September/October 2020
Changing Seasons
From early snow on Labor Day to a hurricane just before Halloween, we travel on
At the end of August we finally left the Bighorn Wilderness area and started out to explore other parts of Wyoming. We wandered through Worland (nice fairgrounds for a camping spot, but the town is not doing well), then south through Thermopolis, with its hot springs and dinosaur museum. We had changed to a different part of Wyoming now, and the canyons were very colorful; they were looking more like Utah — lots of red dirt; quite lovely. Then we drove through the Wind River Canyon; it was wonderfully dramatic, though we didn’t take any photos; next time we will do this whole drive going north for better light!
On through part of the Wind River Reservation and into Lander, with its nice city park along the river, a great meeting place for us to cross paths with new Tiger owners, Eric and Fay. We had socially distanced fun sharing experiences and plans until it was time to part ways.
Waving goodby, we moved on to our next target — Dubois. The locals say Duh-boys; or maybe D’Bose; or was it Dew Boyz; but never Doo-Bwah, which may have been the original pronunciation. We drove on up the Wind River Valley, gradually gaining elevation and beginning to see pronghorn antelope in the fields, along with some deer. Nearing Dubois, we located a small lake a few miles off the highway and settled in for the night. It was a really pretty little spot and as it would turn out we’d be back to it again in a few days.
The next morning we picked up some supplies and headed up a high road into the mountains above Dubois, to an open area we’d been to before, along the Continental Divide at about 9200 feet. It’s a great, open, lovely place with vast spaces, few trees and long vistas to admire. Warm and a bit smoky from the fires on the west coast, but breezy and pleasant nonetheless; and so, so quiet. We spent several days before heading back down the hill. We’d seen on the news before we came up that an early season cold front was going to be coming through over Labor Day weekend and we figured we’d probably be better off down in Dubois than out here in the open at higher elevation. It was also getting smokier.
We had mail coming to the local post office so we couldn’t just move on. We dropped back down to our small lake south of Dubois, where the valley was clearer and it was cooler. Then it began getting very cold — and then it SNOWED. It was 23 degrees outside at 10:00 am the next day when we pulled ourselves together and drove into town. The Tiger and everything around it was covered in maybe 3” of the white stuff and it was beautiful. For comparison, the sunny day in the meadow was Saturday afternoon, while the frigid looking - and feeling - Tiger as snowman photo was taken Tuesday morning.
So, we made our way back into town and it turned out the mail had, probably, arrived — but the town was at a standstill because the power was out everywhere, the post office had no way to process what it had received, you couldn’t get fuel — all the usual stuff. I pled with the postal people, asking for help in locating our mail; she said come back late in the day. I did, she had it all ready for me, and had even located a place where we could spend the night without having to drive all the way back to the lake. There was ice on the inside of the truck that night, but at least the snow had stopped. The next day the power was back on in town, we got ourselves organized, and started off to our next adventure.
We continued up Hwy 26 to see the Tetons from one of the world’s best overlooks, then drove on down through Teton NP, which was gorgeous with its new dusting of snow shining in the sun. The weather had chased away the smoke for the time being, and the day was stunning. We gloried in the Tetons— the snow had really made them special. By the end of the day we had dropped further south below the park, enduring a drive through Jackson Hole and its hordes of tourists, and settled for the night at an open wild camp spot down closer to Pinedale; once again by ourselves out on the prairie.
It was now warming up a bit — the pipes didn’t freeze last night for the first time in several days. We headed through Pinedale to Rock Springs which is a main turning point if you are heading toward Flaming Gorge and the dinosaurs. But we headed east towards Baggs and the Colorado border crossing. The pronghorn were prolific, and seemed to be enjoying the beginning of fall.
Crossing the state line, we stopped to visit Mick, another Tiger acquaintance who lives in the area, in a section of mountains with lots of room for isolated developments with plenty of land attached. Good country for folks who want some space. We enjoyed a nice visit, once again socially distanced. There was plenty of room, and we would have liked to stay a few days, but we now had made a promise to get further down into Colorado and stop by to see some friends who were going to get very busy in a few days. So off we went. We drove through Glenwood Springs, down past Leadville and Buena Vista, taking tons of pictures of the lovely scenery as we drove along, then up the Monarch Pass a bit until we stopped to see good buddies Pat and Mike.
Pat was storing a lovely Mexican rug for us under their bed, and she reluctantly hauled it out for us to carry off. It blended in so well in her house, and fit in with her other Mexican artifacts and paintings and all; I hated to deprive her of it. But we love it too, and hope to be able to find a spot for it when we we finally settle down in a few years, and were excited to have it back in our arms. After a brief and careful chat, but no hugs, we said goodby to our friends and wandered on. Pat had recently had surgery, and was struggling to regain her usual vigorous life. We didn’t want to interrupt her progress.
Dropping south out of Poncha Springs, we spent a really great night out on a knoll overlooking the area below the pass; the views of the mountains were terrific. We were above 9000’, it was clear and windy and really nice. We love these open spaces.
We were heading for Saguache (sa-wash - somehow) and Alamosa and then into the hills to the east of there — home of Great Sand Dunes NP. We were trying to hook up with Bill and Patti, friends from Oregon. We’d never seen them at their home, of course (although we just missed them back in December), but had caught them in South Africa last year. They were going to be in southern Colorado at this time and we got all organized for a gathering. Well, didn’t happen — the transmission in their van gave out, and they got held up in Salt Lake until eventually it was replaced. But the time had slipped away; we all agreed “next year” and gave up for now. The story of 2020.
And now we had a plan, a real one, for what was going to happen next. We had decided we wanted to vote in person, and our voting booth is in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. So we left southeastern Colorado and the Rocky Mountains, heading back across the prairies. Over the years we’d always voted by mail but both felt that this year was different and we wanted to do it in person. South Dakota is one of several states with the earliest date to begin early voting, September 18th, so that worked to our advantage.
We weren’t in any gargantuan hurry, but we wanted to get this done. We started by enjoying the NW corner of Kansas, then crossing on into Nebraska, where we enjoyed the end of the harvest and the sight of lots of cornhusks (Go You Cornhuskers!!), finally ending the day in Hastings, home of Hastings College. We spent the night in their pretty little American Legion Memorial Park, at the lowest elevation we’d been at in several months — 1905 feet.
Eastern South Dakota wasn’t exactly a straight shot, but we didn’t do much deviating. We crossed the Missouri River into SD at Yankton, and then headed further north towards Sioux Falls. Our plan was to arrive in the city early in the day, so we spent the night a bit south of town, then got ourselves started the next morning. We had no idea what we’d be facing when we went to the voting place, but it was a pleasant surprise.
We stood in a very short line, were asked to identify ourselves and confirm our address, then given ballots to take to a well-distanced voting booth. Marked ballots, put them in the box, and walked out. Easy-peasy; but then this was September 21st, and the voting had only been available since the 18th. I suspect things were a little different a month later.
That done, we got some other business handled, then beat feet out of town. Chores were done and it was time to settle down for a few days, so we went back to one of our favorite spots in SD — the dispersed camping at Carthage Lake. Wow it was lovely; soft and warm and autumn-like. We saw one huge pheasant, and kept looking for more. The fish in the water were jumping for bugs every evening — never caught a picture, but sure heard plenty of splashing. The osprey keeping an eye on them were quite delighted. After a few days it turned cold and rainy and we moved further south, back across the Missouri into Nebraska again, to Hull Lake, a tiny remote wildlife management area near a pond — no people, just us and a squeaky windmill letting us know when the wind was up.
We were seeing more and more dead raccoons and skunks along the side of the road — why? And the flies were getting worse. Ah yes, we were approaching cattle country. And the Halloween decorations along the roadsides were increasing in volume. Nebraska definitely celebrates Halloween — pumpkins and cornstalks and hay bales were common, and the countryside was all fall colors. Brown cleared fields, remains of cornstalks, leaves turning colors beside the streams, all very pleasant.
Our current goal was to stop in Kearney and see if the sandhill cranes had arrived yet. A long time back we’d seen them in Nebraska in November, and also in Alaska one summer. Thought we were probably too early this round but it’s always good to have a goal. If you’ve never seen these cranes, they’re pretty nifty. There are actually more of them in Nebraska in the Spring, so maybe we’ll try again then.
Along the way we were reminded that the midwest is full of train tracks, most of them with trains either sitting still or racing by, but always in huge long streams. It’s easy to forget that much of the middle of the country was settled as a result of the construction of the transcontinental rails — and how much stuff still travels on them. The trains are just plain everywhere! Mostly where you don’t want them to be! Not if you are attempting to negotiate your way through a town. At one point, trying to get to a city park, we were thwarted time after time by blinking lights and lowered barriers as we tried to get from one side of town to the other; finally arriving we found out the park had been closed down due to spring flooding. In these wars, the trains always win. We still like the midwest.
Heading toward Kearney from a bit east, we took the Lincoln Highway (Hwy 30), which once was a rural, charming route through one small town with silo after another. This year so many of those towns look like they aren’t going to survive much longer. They’ve lost their sparkle, between the effects of the virus and the general economic downturn out here. It’s quite sad.
Kearney seems to be doing all right, although no cranes in sight. We wandered the city a bit, picked up a package that had been sent to us there, and particularly enjoyed the area around the Memorial Archway, a quiet (in the off season) park with lots of display buildings commemorating the area’s history. It’s a pretty place, and full of fall color these days.
We made one last stop in Nebraska, in a splendid city park in Superior, right on the Kansas border. Lincoln Park has cool things to enjoy (including a World War II tank, for some reason), beautiful trees turning color, a creek to wander, and an easy walk into the small town next to it. Oh, and lovely sunsets, that’s for sure. This is one of the nicest city parks we’ve ever stayed in. Write it down. If you’re wandering across southern Nebraska you need to stop there.
After a few restful nights, we packed up and crossed into Kansas. Kansas, well, what can I say? It was rather boring, ultimately. Like Nebraska better. We mostly just spent a few days dropping straight down into Oklahoma. One delight — Kansas has a bunch of fishing lakes that are mostly just sort of a dammed up pond of water with camping all around the edges, sometimes with trees for shade and sometimes just sitting there in the sun (in the 80’s at this point). We spent a few days each at two of them, and really enjoyed it. Very casual, with a few small boats out on the water, a stream to wander along that feeds into the lake, and some porta-potties that have kind of been taken over by cute little spiders. Rural bliss. Kansas really is out there in the middle of not-much.
On to Oklahoma, by way of Arkansas City and back across the Arkansas River yet again. Now here, we had a plan to visit our good friend Gloria in Tulsa, so we headed in that direction. As we drove eastward across the state, we stopped at various spots for a couple of days, mostly near water (all these midwestern states seem to be big on water spots for camping) — boat launching sites, city lakes, and the like. Nice, mostly quiet, and pleasant. Driving along, we regularly spotted large wind farms, gracefully turning in the wind — often with little oil well pumps working away at their feet. It made a thought-provoking sight for contemplating the coming (hopefully) energy transition. Coincidentally, about this time we read an article on the growth of wind farms throughout the midwest and learned that a large cone shaped region right through the middle of the country has steady, strong winds all year round. No news to folks who live there, but for the rest of us, hey, you learn something new everyday — or try to anyway.
After a great visit in Tulsa, which took place over our first restaurant dine-in meal in at least seven months, we continued southeast, heading for Arkansas. We had spotted an old friend on the map — the Talimena Scenic Highway — that crosses over the Ouachita Mountains heading east into Arkansas. This is a very special scenic road that we’d been over about 20 years ago on a motorcycle trip. It’s lovely, and most beautiful right now, in full autumn splendor. The day we drove it, sadly, it was very foggy, and we weren’t able to get the best of the best. But we drove slowly, with flashers flashing in the thick mist, and it was still well worth the effort.
And now we were back in Arkansas, in the same mountains we’d camped in earlier this year. We found our way back to a favorite spot from before, and settled in for a few additional days of local beauty and solitude. Finally, running low on both water and chocolate cookies, we had to move on.
We dropped down to Hot Springs to get ourselves squared away again, then headed north a bit, up through the lovely Petit-Jean state park, to get to a museum that Rick was interested in revisiting. We’d discussed some of the potential problems inherent in such a visit (indoors, public space, etc.), but Rick wanted to go, promised it wouldn’t be busy and off we went.
The Museum of the Automobile is near Morrilton, Arkansas, and it was established by former governor Winthrop Rockefeller. We had visited once before but that was before digital photography so we had no photos to add to our motor-museums.com website. It’s not an enormous collection, maybe fifty cars, and neither glamorous nor exotic. Just Plain Jane Americana in an attractive and well maintained space. It was nice and Rick was basically alone the entire time, sharing the large room with one other couple.
All this traipsing around had taken us north of Little Rock, which is an area we like. We decided to drop down through there, arranged for a package to be picked up at the Bass Pro store in town, and tried to renew our acquaintance with terrific Shorty Smalls BBQ. Sadly, that didn’t come to fruition (their takeout menu was too abbreviated to include some necessary items), so we found another source of Excellent Q before hitting the road. We enjoy Arkansas a lot, and will spend more time here down the road.
But by now we were working on deadline. We’d booked a spot for ourselves at the Plantation, the campground we like so well down in southern Alabama, and the clock was ticking. So we took a very nice drive east through Stuttgart (the Duck and Rice Capital of the World) — as you can guess, it’s the duck hunting capital of the world as well. Heading on, we spent our last Arkansas night in Helena, almost on the banks of the Mississippi River. Helena and the immediate area is the home of Delta blues, and in the summertime it’s a really hopping place. Right now, about the end of October, it was very quiet. Not surprisingly, in the delta region they do still grow a fair amount of cotton and we saw it in the fields, little puffs of white on the short sort of straggly bushes. We don’t know enough to say whether these are crops waiting for harvest or just the leftovers afterward, but it is certainly representative of the area.
The next morning we crossed the Mississippi on a great big hunking bridge, and were reminded that all year long we’d been repeatedly crossing these three main huge rivers: the Mississippi, the Arkansas, and the Missouri. That’s the Mid-West in a nutshell.
The weather has mostly gotten much cooler now, even as we drop further south. We have been really, really fortunate with the weather this year. In the late Spring, early Summer we had wonderful sunshine and moderate temps on the plains of South Dakota. Then we moved into Wyoming for the hottest months of July and August, spending most of our time at higher elevations to be cool. Now, as we move south and east we are literally just staying ahead of a huge arctic air mass that is causing freezing temps throughout the area we’ve just been through. Our beloved Bighorns are buried in snow now, and places we’ve just been to across Kansas and Oklahoma are frozen solid with freezing rain and ice. Whew!
It’s a strange time, weather-wise, mostly cloudy; still kind of warmish here but getting cooler. Not very pretty but not a problem either. As we are preparing this message we’ve gone to ground in a lovely Corps of Engineers park in northern Mississippi. Zeta, the next big hurricane, is preparing to come ashore along the Gulf Coast, a few hundred miles south of us, and as you may know, it is being affected by the very strong dip in the jet stream north of us that’s causing all that cold weather. Not wanting to arrive too soon in Alabama and running into hurricane issues, but unable to stay too far north either, we are hunkered down and we’re none too warm as we sit here on a rainy day and wait for Zeta to pass by.
In the Fall, due to shorter days and the lower angle of the sun, we begin to have trouble getting enough sun on our solar panels to keep out batteries charged — what was a matter of a couple of hours a day all summer is a struggle now. Add in all the cloudy weather and it can be a problem. So we are not just waiting out the weather but we’re doing it in a campground with electricity! Wow! Really cool and greatly appreciated. A rare luxury for team Tortuga.
We expect to leave in a couple more days; we’ll drive down to Foley, Alabama and settle into a spot out in the country near there until the first of the year. After that? Who knows! So stay with us, and think of us as you watch those weather reports.
Love from us both,
PS: By the bye, we invite you to raise a glass of whatever you like and join us in a happy anniversary celebration. Halloween marks the end of our Nineteenth year of life on the road; happy and homeless, wonderfully wandering the world, with all of you for company. Thanks for hanging in there.
Be sure to check out the photo page for this story for lots more pictures