Blackness

Okay. You all remember Fionn's sad day of being turned away at the Oregon Caves National Monument. If you haven't read it, it is the posting previous to this one and is worth a quick read so you understand where we are all coming from.

When you love your kids, you hurt with them and share their joy just as much as they do. I HAD to find Fionn a cave. I HAD TO! I was delighted to find that more caves were along the route and these sounded even BETTER!

A million or so years ago, a volcano erupted and sent off lava shoots through the earth which left huge tunnels in its place. The caves were a result of where LAVA actually flowed through at tremendous SPEED! Okay. So we have a "cool" factor, we have our cave, and we have an all ages welcome sign!

Today was our lucky day. We were all going cave exploring. We pulled up in our happy van and camper, got on our jackets, grabbed our flashlights, I got on my baby Ergo Carrier and we headed towards the ticket counter. A forest ranger saw our national pass and let us through and asked if we wanted to rent a lantern. I smiled and waved my Barbie flashlight at her and said smoothly, "No thank you, we've got it covered."

The day was warm and sunny. The path leading down to the earth was dry and paved. Fionn danced as he held his flashlight in one hand and his dad's hand in the other. He was going to see a cave! The earth started to descend and a very cold mist began to blow into our faces. How exciting! We turned the path's corner and there stood a magnificent cave entrance. Wide for a full view of steps leading downward and people coming in and out, some with small children, some with babies and grandparents.

I shouted up to Fionn, "Are you excited, Fionn?"
His little feet jumped down the stairs happily.
"YES!" he shouted back. His flashlight was turned on and he waved it all around, enjoying the beam of light with the sunlit cave mouth at his back. The path narrowed and metal steps continued on down a path that darkened quickly. No interior lights aided our descent.

"Okay, everyone, turn on your flashlights and watch your step!" I called out.

Within a moment, it was really dark. The path was made up of a real fine black powder. Jagged molten rocks were populated in various ascents and descents of the cave which made the path treacherous at times.

"How much were they charging for those lanterns?" I called to Sean.
"I think $3 dollars," he shouted back.
"How about I go back to the camper and get ours?" I yelled again.
"Sure, but we can see fine without them," he answered, keeping a steady pace into the pitch black cave.
"Well hold on then, I'll go fast! I can't see a thing! I'll be right back!" and off I sped, turning around while trying not to crash into anything.

Within a few minutes I reached the mouth of the cave with Keegan on my back and my trusty Barbie flashlight, which already was loosing its battery life. I waved at the forest ranger and motioned I'd be right back. I ran through the parking lot, found our camper, grabbed two lanterns, locked it back up, ran back through the lot, weaved through the tourists and was happy to feel the cold cave air as I had worked up a sweat trying to get back to my family left in the black cave with no light.

The sun shone on my back as I descended, following the friendly path with tourists hugging each other for family photos. I trotted quickly along the metal grates that provided level walking, up the stairs, down the stairs into the waiting darkness, where I had left my family ten minutes ago. I turned on the lanterns so that my family could see that I was coming for them and then they could rid of their silly flashlights that provided them with but a sliver of light.

It was pitch black now and I called for them. Nothing. I stopped wondering if they had decided to turn back and go out of the cave. It was only 40 degrees. I held my lantern in front of my face and watched my breath evaporate into blackness. Keegan was asleep on my back; we shared warmth between us and so I decided to pursue the path a little further. I feared they had gone further in and were still waiting for me with needed light.

I walked for a long time and listened for voices. I could hear children ahead and the path widened and was easier with now only a black powder. I could see about 5-6 feet around me, which was amazing how the darkness seemed to extinguish the light from these two lanterns. I called for them, "Sean! Riley! Liam!" but there was no answer. The voices grew louder, but sadly I could tell it was not my family.

A dim light grew from deep within the cave. Upon approaching I became relieved to finally see the people.

"Hi!" I said happily, "Have you seen a man with dark hair with a bunch of blond little kids?"

The people glowed in my light, "Yes, we saw them about a mile ago."
"A MILE?" I gasped?
"Yeah, little kids, right? I thought they were crazy, but they were making pretty good time," one of the men said.
"Well I hope it's them because if I walk all this way in this pitch black cave and find out it is not them... I'm going to be pissed!" and I smiled a scared smile and began walking again through the ancient lava-shoot cave.

I checked on Keegan's feet dangling from the carrier. They were cold. I put my palms around them and held the lantern handles in my fingertips and then slid them into my pockets of my jacket. "A mile?" I thought to myself, "Why wouldn't he wait for me?"

I walked for over 15 minutes, going deeper and deeper into the cave. I felt panic growing inside of me. The darkness was so thick, so black, it felt like death. I held the lantern up so see if I could get a look at the ceiling. White streaks along the walls of some kind of sediment covered everything. Drops of water landed here and there into the black powder. I could hear no one. I started to loose my courage. I thought of little Fionn. His first cave and he's over a mile deep into this hellhole with a puny flashlight. I started to doubt that Sean would have brought them into this place and each step I pushed forward I began to feel I was making a mistake.

I then heard voices ahead again. Not a few, but many! I pushed forward as fast as I could, made a bend and there were suddenly lanterns lit with people talking with one another. I approached an older couple in their 60s.

"You've got a real little one with you!" the wife said with surprise.
"Yes, unfortunately, I am looking for the rest of my family. Have you seen a man with black hair with four little blond kids with him?"
"Oh my God, yes! Oh, he's way up ahead! We told him that he was crazy and that he should turn back but he was on the go, that's for sure!" and she shook her head and gave me a smile.
"That's what I get for marrying a mountain man," I explained, "They never stop until they've reached the top. When I catch up to him...I'm going to let him know that I am SOOOO writing about this in my blog!"

The couple laughed hysterically and wished me well.
"By the way," I added, "were any of the kids crying?"
"No, but he was holding one of them. He looked cold."
"Thanks," I said, and I was recharged with a quest to save my children.

Again, I walked briskly, with barely enough light to cast a safe path. I no longer held the lantern upwards to view the cave. It was frightening and rather grotesque. I was angry and that was good. It gave me enough nerve to continue on. All I could think of was my poor young ones and what they must be going through in near complete darkness for almost an hour.

It had been a long time since I had seen anyone or heard anything. I began to fear the unknown again. Just when I would feel panic crawl through me, a faint glow or voice would let me know that there were other insane families with children in this cave, underground, miles deep.

"What in the hell is wrong with these people," I kept asking myself, "It all looks the same! Why keep going?"

I received more confirmations that my family was still ahead of me, without injury, and still traveling further in. Finally, a man informed me that the cave did indeed end and that they would eventually have to turn around the way they got in.

"Thank God!" I thanked him, "Let's hope he doesn't find a shovel and start digging!"

I hated this damn cave and I wanted my kids to know I was calmly coming for them so I sang Minuet in G in soprano. I sang it over and over and over until I finally heard my son, Liam, speaking loudly to his sister. They were on their return.

"Mommy!" Riley shouted, "Hi Mom!"
"Hello, sweethearts!" I hugged them all and handed them a lantern, "How were you able to see where you were going?"
"They held onto my shirt!" Sean beamed while holding Bono in his arms.

Bono was cold and Liam was wearing his dad's jacket. Riley's and Liam's flashlights were dead and they stood happily in the light of the lantern.

"Why didn't you wait for me!" I exclaimed.
"What?! Wait for you?!" Sean laughed, "You thought we would just stand there?"
"How could you see anything? And -- Why would you go so far in! The kids must have been scared!" I snapped.
"They were FIIIINE," he said annoyingly, "Now let's go!"

On the way back the kids told me the scary jokes their dad teased them with while he denied it all and laughed the whole incident off like it a day at the park.

I asked Fionn if he was scared at all.
"A little bit," he answered, "Were you?"
"You bet! But not anymore--now that I found my family!" and with that, I took his little, cold hand in mine and sang children's songs with him the whole way back until the blackness ended and the light was found, and the kids ran happily ahead of us without a worry or a care.

Back at the camper, we put our jackets and flashlights away. Sean, satisfied with meeting the end of the cave shouted, "Now wasn't that FUN!?"
"NOOOOOO!" all the children shouted back.

And that's what I get for marrying a mountain man...as the song goes, "to see what he could see." (With a stupid flashlight and four freezing kids, at the end of a three-mile lava cave.)

It Sucks To Be Short

So the long-awaited drive up the mountain nearly wiped out our toddler and about made our pre-schooler curse.

An old hotel had been restored into a gorgeous inn and the entrance to the cave was beautiful with layered rocks, ponds and waterfalls. Being a National Monument, having a season pass to all the national parks gave us free admittance. We were all in line to join the tour when bad news arrived from a Happy Forest Ranger that small children were not allowed under five years of age due to steep stairs and tight crawl spaces.

Now Fionn, being a small kid but smart enough to understand the concept of a cave and its "cool factor", was gently told that he couldn't enter. The disappointment was so great and the rejection was so heartfelt, he held his head upward to not let the tears fall from his eyes. He turned his face away to hide the humiliation. With that, they offered us to join the group for the first 50 feet to see the entrance but then we were turned out afterward.

Fionn's head hung low and I tried to comfort him, but it was no use. I took him and Bono to the restaurant at the Inn and ordered them each a tall milkshake with the works. Fionn ate it slowly and quietly. His disappointment lingered. It downright sucked big time.

About an hour and a half later, the family returned from their tour, all fired up and excited from their journey. They were hungry and Fionn smiled and said, "I had a giant milkshake!"

"What!" the older kids said, "NOT FAIR!"
Fionn beamed with pride, "Uh huh! And it had whip cream and chocolate and stuff and it was THIS BIG!" and he held out his hands smiling with delight.

So, the older kids went for a milkshake with dad and I took the younger three for a walk along the paths along side the cave, peering through the mouths, but never going in. My Fionn needed an adventure. Dammit, it sucks to be short.

The Way to Oregon Caves

After romping in the forest a few days, it was time to head back north through Oregon but to new destinations. I picked out the Oregon Caves National Monument just west of Junction City, which is off Highway 199. The drive became more prairie-like, a much dryer climate with sparse vegetation and tumble weeds. Dusty gas stations stood along the small town road with locals fueling up with gas and cigarettes. The earth and nicatine drank years from their skin. This place felt untouched from the world around them and I wondered how they survived in a town without a pulse.

"Junction City!" my man announced, "Want to stop for anything?"
"Naw, I want to find a place to camp before it gets dark. I hate parking in the dark," I replied.

We arrived at a state park seven miles from the caves. It was near dusk and the camp hosts quickly welcomed us in. Overly thin, neither husband or wife had enough combined teeth to eat a cob of corn. They smiled broadly as they asked us what our needs were for the evening.

"Just running water will be enough," my husband inquired, "We can make way without sewer or electric hookups for the night."

"I'm sorry, man," said the man, "but lets ask our neighbor if he's got a hose."

An older, shirtless man came scurring through the dry dirt pulling a hose to our camper as we idled in the check in lane. I felt a little embarrassed. I was afraid to look at his teeth, or lack thereof. A circus of help and soon our camper had water.

That night the children waded in a creek, built a campfire, enjoyed a rustic dinner followed by gooey smores afterward. There was no sound or site of traffic for many miles. We were at the base of the mountains. Home of critters, crawlers and mountain folk.

The next morning we unhitched the trailer for the seven mile drive up the mountain to visit the Oregon Caves. It was a gorgeous morning, sunny and 70 degrees. A light breeze stirred the tall canopy of conifer trees. All the children were excited to see their first cave. Bono sat in his car seat next to Keegan in the first row. I sat with them to monitor Bono's activities with the baby...Bono, our two year old, is known for slugging, biting, kicking and being a terror to the other children.

The road turned and twisted in and out of every part of the mountain. Sean was anxious to get to the top so he drove at a quicker speed. Bono was quiet. Very quiet. I watched ahead to the road so not to get dizzy as my head was already pounding for the day. I could hear some strange noises from Bono, kind of like he had too much spit in his mouth and was trying to swallow it.

Now I don't know what it is about that kid, but the few times in the past when he had the stomach flu, he would refuse to throw up. If he did, he wouldn't open his mouth. He would swallow it back down through locked jaw. This half hour trip up the mountain felt like an eternity of nautious hell. Bono's face was gray. His eyes rolled around and his head drooped from one side to the other.

When we arrived, all the other kids jumped out with a big, "Hooray!" while Bono oozed out of the van and held onto the door while he upchucked into his stubborn cheeks.

"Oh my god, Bono! Are you okay?" I held him and rubbed his back. He was too young for words but he looked up through his sour face and swallowed hard some more.

The breeze set him straight in a fast moment and with that, he marched forward to claim his walking stick that his brother held for him. We were off to find ourselves a cave!

Malibu Barbie and the Redwoods

I perhaps have not mentioned the constant headaches of which I suffer. I live on pain killers and am sometimes disabled by them. Much of it is contributed to hormones and some to stress, but Migrain Excedrin is always part of my morning ritual.

So I was laid out in the second row watching the sand dunes and the new appearance of Crescent City. The ocean mist was heavy and the fog shorted the coastal views. For August, it felt like November. My head lay sideways bumping along the backseat while my eyes peered open now and then to take a glimpse of scenery.

I felt my body sit up when I captured a glittering female's ass riding past my window with the words, "Malibu Barbie" sparkling as she and her colleague road their bikes along Highway 101 toward California.

"Did you see that?" I laughed up front to my husband.
"Yeah!" he turned and gave me a smile.
"Drive up along side of them! I want a better look!"

I had to see what a female bicycling tour team looked like. I had secretly wanted to do the exact thing, but never had a female partner.

We pulled up along side and I watched their cadence and inspected their level of fitness. These girls were made up of granola and unshaven legs. I frowned with puzzlement wondering why the claimed name of Malibu Barbie with glitter. These girls resembled Ken dolls more than Barbie. I shrugged and laughed it off.

"Good for them!" I said after a moment, "Glad to see their freedom and humorous outlook."

We saw them many times throughout the day. It was impressive how much distance they were able to cover, still laughing and talking with each other, eating snacks and sipping from a water bottle as they rode.

We came along the Redwoods and pulled off to the side. They were within inches of the highway and their girth was impossible to measure. We took some nearby paths and walked along the understory of native ferns and brush. The filtered sunlight through the moist coastal air gave the forest a mysterious and surreal appearance.

We spent two days camping and hiking through the Redwoods. The native Indians thought of the place as haunted. I thought it simply beautiful beyond description.
Take time with someone special and get out for a walk in the woods. Find some glitter and write your name. Wear it on your ass, if so inclined. Everyone needs to feel a little special now and then!

A Last Hurrah

We signed the 12-month lease to our apartment and moved what little we had into it. Air mattresses flooded the bedroom floors and clothes were stacked into closets along with cherished toys that made the trip west. The living room and dining room were bare, only paper plates and plastic spoons filled the kitchen cabinets.

"Don't unpack anything more," Sean said, "We're blowing this joint as soon as we find a house."

"Great," I answered back, "I've been living out of a box for the last three months and now you are telling me I can't unpack?"

"Yes! Don't get all comfortable and attached to this place! We're not staying here long!" and off he went carrying boxes to a corner that would remain closed.

Sometimes you have to trust your spouse with things that are really touchy. This was touchy. I missed home and even though I really loved everything I was finding about Washington, the attachment to our home was still very strong, if not too strong.

So, we sat around on the empty living room floor and took a good look at each other. Within an hour we were in the van and heading to the rv storage to pick up our trailer. We were hitting the road.

"We have two more weeks until school starts," I began, "Let's go see the Redwoods!"

We drove through Washington down to Oregon. We were kind of gitty with feeling like we were escaping the pressures and schedules of life again. Watching the open road for hours is oddly theraputic. Just like life, nothing stays the same--no matter how you try to keep it so. The miles pass and with it bring new soil, foliage, air and micro cultures.

I called my brother who lives in Corvallis, Oregon. He was camping along the sand dunes with his wife and kids and riding his off-road dirt bike for the weekend. We had already passed that area and were south of him. The sand dunes run along the coast from mid Oregon all the way to the border to northern California. We were on Hwy 101 and there were areas where the sand blew into the road, making sand drifts of tan/pink crystals.

"Too cool!" I yelled up front, "Let me see if I can find a place to camp out around here for the night!"

I called ahead to a few places but everything was booked. After I had given up hope, Sean found a place and pulled us in for the night. Sand dunes were everywhere and the night was cold. We grabbed the children and gave them their headlamps.

Out above us a spectacular night sky. The big dipper so simple to view. The children gazed and observed the clusters, so full and bright. We turned off our lamps and we could see nothing, not even our hand in front of our face. A sound of moving brush sent us quickly back to the camper. Snuggled in our sleeping bags, our children slept a deep sleep, safe and free amongst the dunes.

Where You Belong

Rarely does one live in a place by choice; most of us live in a place by default, a place where our family grew up or where there was a job available. Many of us have a dream place tucked away that never becomes a reality. Pulling the plug on a life that was working in chase for something better... grander, even, well--that's just suicide.

So, here we are driving around Washington looking for that place in our minds, a place where we belong, and after town after town, I kept bringing up that damn grocery store in Olympia.

"Sure would like to stock up on some of that produce at that Top Foods in Olympia...remember that place?"
"Yep," Sean quietly drove looking at the farmland and day dreaming of owning one.
"Well, you want to start heading back that way? It was really nice there..." I trailed off thinking of the exotic plums and nectorines.

We drove south I-5 hitting every town that was recommended and wondered why anyone would recommend it in the first place. Sure they were nice places, but they were either too far from SEA/TAC or had no shopping/downtown area or had no views of the mountians, etc. We had kids with many needs of good schools, sports, dance, bike paths, nature at their fingertips, and I needed to be near business so I could resume some line of work once the economy picks up. We wanted to be around people like us, outdoor enthusiasts and into healthy living.

We headed back to Olympia and stayed at a campground in Tumwater, WA--a suburb of Olympia that took us in for three weeks at a good rate. We belonged there. The people, the views, the lifestyles, and nature galore. We found an apartment complex high on the hill overlooking the Olympic Mountains, Puget Sound, the State Capitol, and Mt. Rainer--all in one sweeping look out our belcony. It wouldn't be ready for another few weeks for us to move in, so we hit the road and headed to Long Beach, WA. Twenty-eight miles of unobstructed beach just north of the Columbia River outlet into the Pacific.

A beautiful place to rest and explore for the week!

Stuck

There we were, on top of this steep, stupid hill with no turn around. The incline grade was more than 10% and it was impossible to go back down in reverse. Sean got out and looked around. Imagine a huge steak on a small plate. That was our van and camper on top of this big hill.

To the left, the metal gate lead to a grassy area near some kind of city power structure. Sean swung it open and I felt my heart leap with hope. Ah! If we could somehow go in reverse about 20 feet and then drive into it, we could then attempt to turn this thing around.

Problem was, the top of the asphalt was chopped up; bits and pieces were missing and deep grooves in the exposed dirt were where we needed to back up the camper. It was a no go. We would bottom out. I suggested we drive it into the bushes and then reverse it in a small clearing to turn it around. Sean disagreed.

Acting like it was no big deal, "Okay, just bring it over there through the gate and then back it up over there," he said matter-of-fact.

"'Just,'" I muttered, "Whenever you say 'just' I know you are trying to minimize something. Turning it into there will get you stuck." I was pissed but couldn't be. We had to work together and doing the blame game wouldn't get us out of this mess.

"I would turn it into there," I said pointing, with the same chipper voice like he used.

"No, that's no good."
"Yes, it is...you'll need to jack knife it real hard though."
"Driving through the gate will be easier. I'll guide you," he persisted.
"Fine."

I hopped in and the kids were quiet. I explained what we were going to do and that I would need it real quiet so I could think. The kids didn't make a sound.

I backed up the camper straight about 20 feet to pull forward so I could pull in through the gate. The weight from the trailer pulled the van back and my wheels started slipping. We went sliding down the hill a couple feet and I locked the breaks. We still slid.

Growing up in Minnesota gave me some advantage: I knew how to drive on slippery roads.

I put it into first gear and held my position. The wheels caught traction and slowly we heaved up to the top again and made the turn. My heart was pounding and my legs were shaking. I pulled into the grass and hopped out to look at what we had to maneuver next.

A chain link fence ran along the right-hand side of the van. Straight back was a big dip and then further back a deep ditch. If I could go part way out and then jack knife it to the right, drive the camper into the bushes, we could clear the gate and the other ditch and make it down the hill.

Sean hopped in. It was his turn to give it a go. He carefully began to back it up but then began some weird turning that made the camper nearly hit the fence.

"STOP! STOP!" I yelled, waiving my arms, "You have to turn it the other way!"

He pulled it back forward to give it another try. This time he made it through the gate but then went into the deep dip. The bike trailer in the back of the camper dug down into the dirt and then hit the asphalt lip bending the frame and making a loud scraping sound.

"STOP! STOP!" I screamed up to him, "DO NOT MOVE!" Sean jumped out to inspect what was going on.

"The dip is too big. You drive it and I will try to lift the bike trailer to clear the lip," he said.

I watched in the rear-view mirrors as he tried to lift the 200lb bike trailer and four bikes up as I backed up. It was no good. We were now stuck further on this damn hill. I started muttering to myself all the things I had to get out like, "If you see a big hill and you think that it looks too steep, STOP DRIVING!"

Over and over we tried to back up. Two hours went by and we were still stuck. The children still silent with fright. Finally, I said,"Sean, let me go back down the way I got in here, I'll pull forward again where I wanted to, and then I'll jackknife it into the bushes."

We cleared the asphalt with a different angle and slid down the hill a few feet until I finally regained some footing. Pulled it up into the bushes, jackknifed it into the bushes while scraping the paint through the wild blackberries and through a few more forward and reverse maneuvers we were facing the right way: looking down the narrow street in front of us.

I jumped over to my seat and looked at Sean as he climbed in. We did it. He slowly made the descent. He made a few chuckles of relief then said, "Now! Let's go look at that house!" I looked at him perplexed how he could be so flippant. I watched the road finally level out. "Okay...but park here. Don't drive up the street."

Trailers and Hills Don't Mix

So finally everyone was feeling fine and well rested after a night of camping nearby the hospital. We were excited to get to Bellingham located just south of the Canadian border. I had researched some real estate and had some listings written down for us to drive by. The drive in was gorgeous with a narrow road with a forested cliff immediately to our right with a 2-inch shoulder and then the Sound to our left with breath taking views.

An upscale neighborhood with craftsman style homes overlooked the water, all ascending along the hillside. Yards were uniquely landscaped and well kept. We were diggin’ it. We looked crazy driving our camper all over their stylish neighborhood. Our van and camper had not seen a wash or a speck of rain since the Midwest, some 1,700 miles ago and we had every bug from Minnesota on west all it.

Some homes were for sale and Sean would jump out and grab a flyer. I am sure the neighbors that saw us were praying, “Oh no! Please, no please, do not buy this house!”
Sean had not cut his hair in a long time nor shaved. I wasn’t any better.

We took a drive down to the marina but it had a lot of industry. Not the place for strolling. I mapped out the properties I had found and we took a drive to see the areas. The first four we saw had too much inconsistency of pride of ownership. If we were to sell in the future, we could face the danger of having the nicest house on the block. In real estate, that is not a good thing. So, we had one last property to look at but it was high on the hillside.

The drive was rather straightforward and it led to a neighborhood less congested with nice views. The voice prompt on our GPS said to make a right turn with our destination 500ft on the right. Sean slowed to take the right but the road ahead looked as if it were a dead end with no turnaround for towing a camper. He drove to the next right hand turn as our road was now ending and was not a turn around. This road was a gradual incline for about 400ft but then made a very steep incline the rest of the way. It was narrow and no homes bordered it.

Now, I have to make a note to all of you that Sean is excellent at driving through small roads, busy towns and scenic narrow roads with no shoulder. He is not, and he agrees, that backing up a trailer is something he is good at. He avoids it if he can.

So avoid he did, and within a split second of thinking it through, he drove up that road that made its steady and ever increasing ascent. Careful not to harm the engine, he climbed the road slowly. The wheels started to slip. They skipped and skidded. I looked back at the children. Their eyes huge with fright. Sean slipped it into first gear. The van tugged upward through the wooded road. A car was parked at the top of the hill. The road ended with little clearance. A deep ditch followed each side.

I looked over to our left and saw a grassy road that was closed with a metal gate. There was no place to turn around and it was impossible to drive in reverse all the distance Sean brought us. The road was just too steep and the ditches posed too much of a danger.

We were stuck and I knew I was going to have to drive us out of there.

The Peanut Incident

There are times, when as a parent, one has to respond in ways during a crisis that puts aside anger and fear. I punched in “Hospitals Near Here” on the GPS and Sean drove following its verbal prompts. I went to the back of the van and sat by Liam.

His breathing was wheezing and short. His stomach was trying to breath for him and it caved in and pushed out with every breath. He was white and the blue ring around his mouth became very dark. We had about ten miles to the hospital. Too far. Liam’s allergy to peanuts is so severe he could die from a heart failure by that time.

“How are ya doing, Liam?” I asked quietly.
“Not so good,” he quietly responded, his voice strained.
I watched him for a few more seconds then went up to Sean, “We need to give him the shot. The Epi-Pen is in the camper in the medicine cabinet. You need to pull over.”

We were on the shoulder of Interstate 5. I had never given the shot myself. I practiced on my leg with the dummy pen out of sight from Liam. Sean held Liam on his lap and held his arms and wept into his back. He kept apologizing to him over and over. I whispered into Sean’s ear to hold him tight and gave a calm smile to Liam, “I am going to give you some medicine to help you breathe, ok?”

He didn’t know it was going to be a shot. If he did, he would kick. He had to stay still for me. I held the pen in my hand and removed the cap. He watched with puzzlement. “Click” went the pen and it shot into his leg. He screamed with pain and he looked at me with the face of “why?”

Sean wept. We held Liam and watched to see how he reacted. In a minute he began to breathe with more ease and we continued on to the hospital. Within ten minutes, Liam’s skin had broken out in hives. Even his eyes were swollen with hives. We arrived at the emergency entrance and I brought him in to the nurse, “Peanut allergy. I just gave him the Epi-Pen.”
“Right this way,” she escorted us immediately in. No one wastes time with peanut allergies.

Liam’s breathing seemed stable at the moment, but his skin was like an elephant’s. The nurse was to administer an IV. No chance. Liam fought and wouldn’t hold still. No matter what we said, we couldn’t get him to cooperate. The doctor came in and stood in front of Liam. He was a thin man around 60 years of age with white hair. He stood silently with his finger to his temple, thinking and watching. I asked if there was any other way to give Liam the medication. I was fearful that if they got the IV in, that Liam would yank it out.

The doctor sympathized and reluctantly gave him the medication via mouth. Liam seemed to be stable but then suddenly within a few seconds had great difficulty breathing again. The nurse came in quickly and gave him another shot in the arm. Liam sobbed and I held his hand. He asked me in a small voice, “Am I dying?” I couldn’t hold back my tears. I held him to my chest so he couldn’t see my face.
“No, honey. You are not dying. Your body just really doesn’t like peanuts, that’s all. We just need to calm your body down and then you’ll be okay.”

His breathing was restored after a few minutes and I stayed in bed with him rubbing his body that itched so terribly from the hives. I knew Sean was worried in the waiting room. I knew he was feeling terrible, too. Liam wouldn’t let me leave his side so I asked the nurse to forward an update to my husband.

I sang songs and held him for hours. His hives started to disappear and he became elated to see his skin heal. He wanted to leave. You always know how sick a child is when they ask to see a doctor and when they ask to leave. He started sitting up and getting antsy. He was hungry and the nurse fed him Jello and ice cream. A perfect dinner.

He was finally discharged and the family greeted him with happy shouts of, “LIAM!!!!” They all hugged him and told him how much he was missed. Sean held him and felt his son strong and breathing again.

For all of you reading this, for the safety of children with peanut allergies, please do not feed the squirrels or any animal peanuts. They carry those nuts into other yards and children often find them and touch/ingest them. A child can die quickly from this type of allergy. It is becoming a common allergy and the reasons are unknown. No one in either side of our family has this allergy, yet two of our sons have it. So, please, keep a safe yard.

Wayside Hell

We arrived Camas, Washington, our final destination. The past seven years of our beloved home and endless sweat equity was now to be exchanged for the moment. Our excitement went from an explosion to a weak fizzle.

We had researched this area via the Internet and based this choice upon schools, demographics and housing costs. A friend of Sean’s from the airlines happened to live in the area and spoke well of Camas. We drove through an old town of small buildings and paper mill. We continued through and found new residential areas with many shopping malls and parking lots. The area was all nicely plotted with sidewalks and landscaping. The homes were often clones of themselves with small lots. Some were more grand but still with small lots. It was crowded.

Sean let out a big sigh. More like a sound of a deflating balloon. All the life was out of him. I shared the feeling and looked out the window as we drove around looking for something that would assure us that we had sold our house and everything in it, drove 3,400 miles in exchange for something incredible; nothing called out to us.

“What do you think?” I finally asked.
“I don’t know…”
“I’m not feeling it.” I admitted bluntly.
“Neither am I.”
“What do you want to do?”
No answer.
Anther deflated sigh came from him.

We ate at Burgerville. That put the nail in the coffin. We were out of there and traveled across the Columbia River to Portland for the night. We stayed at a hotel and the kids were elated to be swimming again. We didn’t know where to go from there the next morning. I didn’t even have any suggestions.

Sean got on the phone and called a few of his local friends for some guidance. We got a list of suggestions and mapped them out. The first was Aberdeen, near the coast, Hwy 101, south of the Olympic National Mountains.

A quick stop in Olympia for breakfast at Denny’s Restaurant started us out on the right foot. People there were at a modest pace and friendly. They appeared conscientious of each other and polite. They were talkative and well traveled. A look of good health was about them and I was intrigued of their lifestyles.

We purchased some groceries at Top Foods, a high-end grocery store of local and organic produce, gourmet meats, wines and bookstore. I teased I would move here just for the store. Sean was quite impressed with the place too. There were many trees and the roads meandered through hills with views of the Olympic Mountains, the State Capitol overlooking the southern tip of Puget Sound, and on a clear day, views of Mount Rainer. This was nice but we were on a mission to find a place to live and we had a list of recommended cities and Olympia was not on it.

We headed west on Hwy 101 to Aberdeen, just south of the Olympic National Forest peninsula, a city recommended. A quick drive through, we knew it was a no go. Too much industry. We drove north on Hwy 101 along the coast and camped at rustic campsites with gigantic driftwood along the shores. Impressive and somewhat eerie, the weather was very cool and misty. We wore jackets and winter hats while we hiked.

To Port Angeles, another recommended town and then onward to Port Townsend, we enjoyed the visits but nothing felt like home. A ferry across to Whidbey Island with the van and camper brought us on the eastern side of Puget Sound, north of Seattle. There we saw some of the most impressive coastline of Deception Pass. This area was very intriguing to explore but not perhaps the best place for us to settle.

Onward to La Connor and to Bellingham. Liam had to go to the bathroom so Sean pulled over to a rest stop. I suggested that Liam go to the camper instead of using the public bathroom – it is faster and cleaner. Sean took him into the rest stop instead, wanting to see the local information and maps posted on the boards for travelers.

After a few minutes I could see Sean walking quickly back to us holding Liam’s hand with a serious look on his face. Liam was crying. Sobbing.

The van door opened up and Sean put Liam in the van and said urgently, “We’ve got to get him to a hospital immediately.”
“Why?” I asked.
“He just ate a peanut cookie,” he replied.
“How did that happen?” I was puzzled.
“I gave it to him. It looked like a sugar cookie with a chocolate kiss in the middle.”
“Those always have peanut butter in them. Remember? You gave one of those to Fionn at your aunts Christmas party and he threw it up all over you,” I said impatiently and growing more angry by the second.
“I don’t remember that,” he replied as he drove looking for a hospital.

“Jesus…” I whispered to myself.

Liam’s face was white and a blue ring was becoming visible around his mouth. He was in serious danger.

Alas! Camas, Washington!

For you that know what my husband and I have gone through with the total remodeling of the house with small children running amuk, seven years of sacrafice from our active, outdoor lifestyle, and a housing market that has left most sellers drained dry of all resources, know that this move west was to fulfill our goals and our dreams for our children.

Camas Washington was waiting, and now only a two-day drive away. I was anxious. I didn't want to site see anymore. I wanted to quick get an apartment, figure out what school our kids would go to, get set up and start living like a normal person with an address and a home telephone number. I wanted a kitchen. I wanted to get a Realtor right away and start looking at properties.

We followed along the Columbia River Gorge along the Washington side. It started out rather dull, but soon became a gorgeous drive. Sheer cliffs were on our right with the Gorge meandering along on our left below. Some tunnels were carved through the mountains and we were small enough to pass through them. We saw wind surfers and kite boarders enjoying the strong winds accumulated through the fetch of water. They looked like they were reaching speeds of near 45mph.

We reached Camas in the evening. Sean's friend, Dan, was away on a trip and he had our other van parked in his driveway that we had shipped from Connecticut. Sean called him on the cell to let him know we arrived. A short conversation between the two of them ended in a referral to a local Burgersville Restaurant nearby. We drove around town to get a feel of the town, and then we drove on the Vancouver side of town to get a feel of what that had to offer.

After about three hours and a dinner at Burgersville, I turned to Sean, "I'm not into it. I just don't feel us here..." I did not know how to tell him that I did not like it there. He sat silently staring ahead in the driver's seat. He let out a sigh. After a long moment he replied, "No, I don't see us here either."

So we sat there in the van and didn't know what to do. We just looked around and our kids were totally confused as why we were not getting out of the van to claim a place to live. After all, they had been waiting for three weeks to get here, and they were told this was the destination.

That night we crossed the Columbia River over to Portland and stayed a night at a hotel. It was late and we were hoping our minds would somehow have an answer in the morning.

The kids swam in the pool without a care in the world. They laughed and played as kids should. Sean and I, had heavy hearts and our mood was somewhat dark. The next morning was a little better when we realized we were starting to laugh at the situation. Imagine selling your perfect home with all your precious memories and selling everything you have, drive 3,400 miles and then go, "OOPS!"

Aw, WTF! Let's keep driving!

Glacier National Park Day Two--Part Two

Keegan and I went down the forested path looking for the rest of the family. I could hear nothing but birds and nearby wildlife. So far, no bears, but no family. I realized that we were too quiet and so I began a little song.

I was wondering how near the next bear was. I noticed my feet were not willing to move forward. I was standing still, my song becoming quieter. I turned around and headed out of there. My stride was quick and my song, too. I walked for about a thousand feet when I heard something familiar: kids! And they were MINE!

Liam came racing toward me and he was as loud as usual. I was really glad for it. Liam is our loudest kid with no volume control. On a scale of 1-10, he is stuck on 11. I was suddenly covered with kids.

"Mom!" they all shouted, "What's down there?"
"I was looking for all of you and thought you were ahead of me. I got scared and turned around and here you all are!" I was releaved thinking we could turn and go back to the van now. They all looked down the path and Liam shrieked with excitement and took off where I had just returned from. Everyone but me followed.

They didn't look back and now I was stuck alone again with my dumb camera. I quickly got my legs together and started after them.

Damn family. Always in need of an adventure.

So Liam and Fionn were singing some loud goofy songs about fat chickens and bear poop and laughing their heads off. A few hikers passed us by from the opposite direction. They all appeared intact and not frightened so I figured that the path ahead posed no threat.

We came along where the waterfalls and streams made another decent into a waterfall of about 50 ft. It lead into another crystal clear stream of icy cold water. A manmade log bridge consisting of an enormous log split in half and a rail crossed it for hikers. Of course my kids danced and jumped around going across it. There was no railing on one side and only wide enough for one person. We made it across.

Now, my kids and husband will keep hiking until it is dark, and then keep hiking. The sun was getting low and I knew that would trigger different animals to get thier own bedtime routine going. I wanted out of there. We had too much bear bait with us. (five kids with chewey centers) So we began our turnaround to head back.

I have to mention the fitness of the people we ran into of all ages. It is proof that no matter ones age, fitness can be acheived with activity. Husbands and wives in their 70s were muscle bound, well-balanced on their feet and healthy.

We made our way out of the forest and were back in people land again. Relief.

Glacier is definately my favorite National Park. Gorgeous and wild beyond belief. That night, Sean read some literature back in camp. It gave facts that the area we were in had the highest bear concentration of all United States. I felt suddenly sick and grabbed a beer. Releaved we were all safe and sound, all my kids with their chewy centers unharmed, enjoying the camp fire and making conversation.

If you haven't gone out camping yet this year, get out there.

Go outside and play!

Glacier National Park Day Two

It was the Fourth of July. Perfect weather for a swim and hiking. We took a dip that morning at the pool. A little boy waded up and asked if we were going to White Fish for fireworks.

“They have a good show there,” the little boy bobbed up and down, “Yeah, we went last year, too, and it was really great.”

“Thanks for the tip! Maybe we’ll see you there.” I replied as I held Keegan in the pool, bouncing his little legs.

We gathered all the children and piled in the van for our afternoon outing at Glacier. The entrance was close by and the place was lined up with cars waiting to get in. A warning sign about campers over 20 feet was posted in a few areas. We had left ours back at the camp.

Now this was my kind of place. The streams were plentiful with gushing rapids, waterfalls dumping onto the roads and lookouts galore with hiking trails marked everywhere. The kids wanted to watch a movie.

“Can we watch Sponge Bob?” Liam asked.

“Are you kidding me?” I replied with a quick look.

We were barely in the park and Sean had pulled over to let us out to hike a trail. Hiking trails with small children is not as hard as most people think. We let our kids set the pace, which is way faster and further than I care to go. Sean occasionally has to carry Bono, our almost two year old, and I carry Keegan in my Ergo Carrier. They always leave me behind on the trail but mostly because I stop a lot and take pictures and video.

Smaller streams of snow and glacier runoff feed these bright blue rivers. Large boulders line the banks and if one were to fall in, it would be a rough ride, if not fatal. We were headed toward Logan’s Pass and I sat in the second row with my guitar. A tunnel ahead bore right through the mountain’s rock and waterfalls cascaded down the other side. It poured over our van and the kids shrieked, “That was awesome!” and laughed. The road turned and suddenly the scenery was so vast that we pressed our faces upward against the windows to try to capture its full view. We had to get out!

Sean pulled over at a large area of snow covered with kids and their parents. Riley and Liam took off with Fionn and Bono carefully following behind. Haystack Waterfall was nearby and the rock formations that the water tumbled over was just that—it resembled a series of haystacks.

The mountains were simply majestic. They rose straight up into the sky and the faces of them were so steep it was a miracle that trees could grow on them. Looking carefully, I could see narrow streams that gave way to waterfalls. A few large stretches of crushed trees and repaired road could be observed from a previous winter’s avalanche. This stunning beauty was formed by abrupt chaos and unrelenting forces of nature, destruction and rebirth.

The road followed along the cliffs. Narrow with barely enough room for two cars to pass and guardrails large enough only for a tricycle, we could spot many areas of rock that other travelers had hit with their side mirrors. Sean drove with confidence and I kept playing my guitar, strumming faster and faster in attempts to calm my nerves. Folsom Prison Blues was never played so fast.

A woman was spotted above the road perched on a rock taking pictures of a mountain goat. We were nearing Logan’s Pass when suddenly, gray tumultuous clouds and high winds overtook the blue sky. Lightening and thunder clapped and Logan’s Pass’ Welcoming Center had sightseers, hikers and birders running to it for cover. It felt like November and I had left all the jackets back in the camp.

“Where are the kids’ jackets?” Sean asked as we piled out of the van. The kids were shaking with cold and looking at me.
“They are at the camp,” I said stupidly.
“You knew we were gong to Logan’s Pass!” he pulled his coat on.
“It was 80 degrees at the camp! I didn’t think we would need it.”

Sean whipped around the van and returned with umbrellas, rain ponchos and a backpack full of whatever else mountain men carry around.

I tried not to look impressed or in need of what he had. He gave me an umbrella and I struggled keeping it vertical. The wind nearly pushed us over and Riley’s umbrella had blown inside out. I wrapped Keegan in a blanket and grabbed our line of hands and zigzagged our way through the wind. This sucked.

Twenty-five glaciers remain in Glacier National Park and are estimated to be gone by 2020, or sooner. I stayed in the Welcoming Center with the two youngest while Sean took the older three out on a hike. Bono saw he was being left behind and threw himself down on the floor screaming. I was holding Keegan so I couldn’t successfully wrestle some sense into him. About fifty others and I had to wait out his rage.

After an hour, the gang finally returned. Wet and cold, they were happy to get back. I looked them over and did not see Fionn anywhere.

“Where’s Fionn?” I asked Sean.
“Here,” and he pulled down his poncho around his neck and there inside daddy’s coat was Fionn’s little face peeking up.
“A bit of a marsupial, aren’t you?” I joked.

Sean looked in his coat, “How are ya doin’, Fionn?” he laughed.
“Nothing!” and Fionn smiled.
“Nothing?” I jeered.
“FAT CHICKEN!” and he was off, down on the floor running and playing it off. He had to restore his cool.

We started heading back the way we came. I wasn’t so eager to pass those narrow roads over cliffs with practically no guardrails. Riley sat beside me in my row and laughed at how I closed my eyes. I felt nauseous. Thank god we made another stop to see some falls and hike.

Not sure of the name of this place, but to me it was the coolest thing. The mountain had deep rock crevices of at least 1,000 feet. Working like large aqueducts, it looked manmade. Down through these channels came volumes of glacier water cascading down these flat, multi-leveled chutes. Along the walls of rock grew ferns and a refreshing mist traveled over the rushing water. We followed it until it opened into swirling pools and then a picture-perfect waterfall.

The children ran ahead like young mountain goats with their father. Keegan and I took our time taking video footage and pictures. The path became more secluded in the forest and I no longer saw people passing by every few minutes. A sign was posted “Beware! You are in bear country. Many people have died or been seriously injured from black bears or grizzlies. They may attack without warning or reason. When walking, make noise. Use extreme caution!”

I stood there wondering where my family had gone. I took a picture of the sign and looked down the wooded path and listened for any signs of children. I wanted to warn them. After a minute of listening and thinking, I decided to go down the path.

Glacier National Park

Waking up in the Wal-Mart parking lot was a real treat. Parked next to us was an old school bus converted into a ministerial soapbox of misquoted scripture and angry rantings on every window, side-square and hub. It looked like a space ship on the wrong planet. I walked around it, inspecting it and wondered whether or not to inform the long-bearded man sitting in the driver’s seat that he should get a loud speaker so he can shout his thoughts and beliefs at everyone as he drove the highway. Surely his bus alone can’t save the world… he needed a damn loud speaker.

We were in Kalispell, Montana on our way north to the National Park. It was beautiful weather and I was getting gitty. Our kids were rested and asking if we were almost there. We hung out a little longer in the parking lot and ate a bowl of cereal while gazing over at the god bus from our window. Try explaining that site to a bunch of kids. I brushed Riley’s hair and made it smooth again. We were in for a good day.

The KOA at the foot of Glacier National Park brought out a cry of celebration from the kids.

“Do they have a pool?” they asked in unison.
“Yes!” I shouted back.
“Can we take our seatbelts off?” again in unison.
“Yes!” I shouted again.
“Can we ride our bikes?!” once again in unison.
“Yes!” I shouted one more time.

This was one happy van pulling into the campground. We checked in and got to our site. In a flash the kids were yanking their bikes off the bike rack from the camper and were all ready to ride around the campground to the pool. The trees towered above us, spacious enough to create some dappled sun along the grounds. The nettles made the camp smell fresh and clean. I suddenly realized I didn’t know what day it was. Not only the day, but also the date or the month. I knew it was getting close to the end of June, or maybe it was the beginning of July. I asked Sean.

“What day is it?” my face crinkled with childish embarrassment.
“Ummm…I don’t know,” he looked puzzled, “Fourth of July is coming up, we need to find a place to watch some fireworks.”

Of all the places we had stayed, we enjoyed this place the most. Fionn rode his little bike all over the campground with Liam and Riley but kept getting his training wheels caught in the dirt.

“Take ‘em off, dad!” Fionn yelled.
“I don’t think you are ready yet,” Sean said looking him over.
“Take ‘em off! I can ride it!”

Now Fionn is an interesting kid. He is always taking a position opposite of yours. He’ll tell you that the sky is green just to buck the system. If he’s hungry and you ask if he wants food, he’ll say yes—but as soon as you give it to him, he’ll say no and refuse to eat, despite how hungry he is.

He spoke in full sentences two years earlier than his siblings. He sits off on his own with a book. He writes his own songs. The flip side of this wonderful intelligence is his lack of athletic talent. If you throw a ball to him, he closes his eyes and the ball bounces off his body. Wrestling with him, he is like a rag doll with a mouthful of threats and colorful tough guy talk but no ability to even kill a gnat. He would fall standing still. We always lost him at the dinner table. One minute he would be sitting eating, the next on the floor with his plate on top of him. His run was choppy and slow, his shoulders tight to his neck. But it is Fionn’s stubbornness, his determination, however, that has given his athletic brother, Liam, a run for his money. Fionn’s strength is his tenacity. Fionn never gives up.

So Sean took the training wheels off. I watched from the camper’s kitchen window. I figured it would be a short run followed by crying. After a minute I poked my head out and heard a bike fender rattle as it went over a bump. I turned. It was Fionn.

Alone, with a determined look, Fionn rode his bike in without assistance. Sean came running around the corner with a broad smile. My jaw dropped.

“Fionn!” I said cheerfully, “You are riding all by yourself!”
“Watch me, mom!” and he was off again.

At three years old, Fionn had Riley and Liam beat. The youngest of the bunch to ride a two-wheeled bike in the shortest amount of practice time. He rode like he had been doing it all summer. He was in the pack of the big kids now with bragging rights. Kudos, Fionn!

The Lake

We finished our exploration of Yellowstone National Park and it was time to decide whether or not we would track up to northwestern Montana and explore Glacier National Park. Frankly, I was physically tired of all the driving and schedule keeping and now anxious to find a home, but this journey wasn’t all about me. I asked Sean to make the judgment call.

“What do you think?” I asked, “I am kind of spent.”
Sean looked at the map and thought for a while, “It might be a year or more until we make it out this way again. Those glaciers are melting, so…I say let’s go,” and he flipped the map shut and started driving. I started a movie for the kids and mentally prepared myself for another full day in the van.

All afternoon we pushed on. We tried to grab a bite in Missoula but it was around 8:30 p.m. and all the restaurants downtown had restrictions with serving children after a certain hour. We walked down street after street holding our large line of toddler’s hands, pre-school hands, kindergarten hands, and so on. A drunken young dude applauded us for successfully crossing an intersection. (Something I highly doubt he could have done himself.) I looked around the ground for something to whip at his stupid, laughing head but refrained from chucking an empty whisky bottle I spotted near the curb. It was difficult to explain stupidity to our children as they were asking questions about liquor laws and why people act the way they do. I felt especially bad for Riley, who was all dressed up for a night on the town and no one would have her.

We ended up eating dinner in our trailer at a casino’s dirt parking lot. Riley wore a face of disappointment as she chewed her sandwich. Her father gently commented how beautiful she looked and how so many people missed out on her company. I touched her arm and gave her a smile. It was time to gather ourselves back into the van and move on. We had a lot of distance to cover.

I hate driving at night for two main reasons: You cannot see the terrain and secondly, the campgrounds are closed after 10pm so that means we would be camping in another truck stop or a Wal-Mart parking lot. The only benefit then is that the children are asleep and not fighting with each other out of boredom.

We traveled through a few Indian reservations and I pondered how their outlook was on the white people nowadays. Some of these reservations were in gorgeous parts of the country, some were in the middle of nowhere with just dirt. We were passing through a reservation with a flat land area surrounded by mountains. It was dark. Only the moonlight aided our sight. We needed gas and a station was marked nearby off the road. No lights were on but there were a few locals pumping gas.

“Strange,” I said quietly.
“Are they open?” Sean thought out loud, “ATM or credit card, I guess,” and he hopped outside.

The other patrons silently pumped their gas. It was not the place or the right time for small talk. Whoever was out this late or at this location was likely to have a story and I knew I didn’t want to hear it. We pumped our gas and returned back on the road.

The road lay before us, flat and black. The moon just a sliver, but bright. A brilliant canvas of stars shone and if you stood outside stargazing long enough, you could see the depths of space rotate in slow motion. We came upon a town, small and dispersed. A large, meandering lake suddenly appeared with small orbs of light dotted here and there along its dark shores. The silhouettes of mountains rose up around it and the moon cast its light upon the ripples of water. Some homes of slumber could be viewed down close to shore, some windows aglow, but quiet of motion. The road followed the western side and it twisted and followed every cove. I put my window down to take in the alluring site. The night air cool and moist with the smell of wild flowers and field grasses.

Familiar feelings of intimacy, sacredness and tranquility. This lake, so alluring and beguiling, I wanted to know it more and forget the rest of our journey. My feelings were strong about staying; I felt like I had come home. All my creativity came rushing to my fingertips. I needed to express the lake in music, in painting, in holding the earth through pottery. I needed this lake to be a part of me. I needed this lake to carry me. Somehow, I knew this place, somehow I knew I had been here before…

For over forty miles we drove along Flatwater Lake. We continued on for another hour and ended up camping at a local Wal-Mart parking lot. We carried our sleeping children one by one into the camper and tucked them in for the night.

I lied down next to my already sleeping husband. His long dark hair smelled musky and sweet. I watched his shoulder rise and fall as he slept. I touched the warmth of his back. He turned and embraced me. Every cove of his body became mine. I can never know the full man that is my husband. I can never fully anticipate the things he will set out to do or how he will do them. It will take more than a lifetime to know him, so I take it day by day.

I lied there still thinking of the lake while admiring the shadows of his face. It was in that moment when I realized how I knew that lake.

That lake was my husband.

Yellowstone National Park - Day Two

We left the grizzly bear area and made our way to Old Faithful. The kids got their scooters and we grabbed our picnic lunch and headed to the site. The place was full of tourists all ready with their cameras to catch the every 90-minute geyser explosion. We had just shown up, got in a good spot and there she blew, like she was waiting for us.

First, steam began to perculate with sputters of water followed with larger spurts and then full blow. The people awed and ooed with pleasure of the site. It was pretty cool. It lasted for about five minutes and then puttered dormant again. Everyone dispursed and we stayed and ate our sandwiches. A park ranger approached and informed us that Beehive geyser was about to errupt in ten minutes. We scurried on over and caught that erruption just in time. It seemed our timing was impeccable for the day.

There are wonderful walkpaths everywhere where the kids could ride their scooters full speed in the midths of spewing, bubbling and steaming geyser fields everywhere. On the way back Fionn started to get moody and pretended he could no longer ride his scooter and began to wail. His wailing is quite commical. It is a complete shoulder meltdown like he is made from wax and was left in the sun with his mouth all square and a perfect, "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa," comes out of it followed by a closed, stretched out frown that muffles it into a spit muffled, "Waavvvvvvvvvvvvvbblll." It is so goofy one can't help but watch him and chuckle. I ended up riding his scooter with Keegan strapped to me in the Ergo Carrier. Tourists were troubled with the site and so I gave calm smiles with reassuring comments like, "Don't worry, I am a professional."

We went to other geyser sites along Yellowstone Lake that were absolutely fantastic. They call some of them painted pots--the hot spring waters are bright blue, green, orange and some white. The walkpaths were directly over or next to each site for a good look -- or smell-- if you ran out of air and had to breathe in!

We kept our eyes open for bear and while driving I would occassionally see a herd of tourists pulled over in their vehicles with cameras in hand focused intently on something. Knowing they are not the brightest bunch, I stayed in the van and we passed with caution.

Riley was my walking partner and we took silly footage of each other getting gassed out of the geyser fields. If you ever get a chance to go to Yellowstone, spend at least three days. It's well worth it!

Yellowstone National Park - Day One

The Yellowstone National Park lies in the northwestern corner of Wyoming. We entered the western entrance, with a friendly brown sign with yellow letters, "Welcome to Yellowstone." Within a few minutes the site was spectacular. A short drive lead to a full view of the enormous and pristine, Yellowstone Lake. The forest showed signs of a somewhat recent forest fire with new growth beginning to fill in. The rivers and surrounding lakes were clear and bright, turquoise in color and I felt thirsty every time I marveled at it.

“That must be some ice cold water!” I shouted up ahead to my driver.
“Glacier water,” my husband shouted back with the same excitement.
“Pull over! Let’s get out!” I pleaded.

The kids about fell out of the van they were so eager. Their flat, numb butts and bored minds suddenly perked up to notice the perfect rocks on the beach, the bear-proof trashcans and a mirror lake waiting for a ripple. Close to a thousand square acres, the winding road followed much of the shoreline, which also shared some bubbling hot springs and geysers. Wild animal warning signs were near us and we looked around at the rock-filled beach. Fionn noticed a dried up pile of poop near our picnic table.

“Is that bear poop?!” he asked.

We all studied it and then Liam stuck it with a stick.

“Any berries in it?” I inquired from the table.

“Nope,” I heard back.

We couldn’t figure out what it was then noticed the piles were everywhere. Whatever was here was big, and a lot of them. I realized then that my perfect beach was suddenly not the best place to sun bathe.

We followed the lake and came up upon a campground near Fishers Landing. We happened to catch a vacancy and made our reservation. Our camper is 26 feet long with a pop-out queen bed in the front. Due to the large number of grizzly and black bears, the park ranger advised us that we could not put that out for our protection. We agreed and they let us into the park.

We found our site and saw that it was heavily wooded and a little tricky to back up the trailer. We needed to drop it to make it easier to view the wildlife. Sean is excellent at driving forward but backing up he finds not so easy. I am the opposite: I hate driving through towns and such, but can back up like a trucker. So, I jumped out and brought it into the site, quickly unhitched, we all got out of the van to marvel at my talent when suddenly, "Mosquitoes!" we all shouted.

We wanted to take a walk to the camp store to buy some mosquito spray and we all started down the road, which turned into a slapping frenzy, which turned into a grabbing-and-picking-up-children-and-run-like-hell blur. We all arrived in the crowded store red-faced and panting--and still swatting.

Most of you know how we like organic, natural and non-synthetic stuff, but this night all I wanted was DEET.

"Spray me!" I yelled as I jumped around in circles, "Does it have DEET?"
"Yes," my husband replied while creating a fog of the good stuff.
"That natural crap you gave us back at the camp--the guy who developed that ought to be shot!" I yelled as I continued to jump in circles.

After we were all glowing with bug spray, I had a sane moment to look around and act normal. I noticed a bunch of onlookers checking in watch our family. It wasn't a good impression, I am sure, but a lasting one.

Finally, we were off to look for bears. We traveled north and came up upon a site of steam in the air.

Ready to investigate, Riley and I left the sleeping boys with dad and took a run to the steam. Around the corner of the path, we were quickly startled to find Bison grazing near a bridge. A continuous plume of sulfuric steam rose 50 feet beyond and sounds of a jacuzzi caught my attention. I could use a good spa.

Mud Volcano was what we found instead. Bubbling, thick and gray, this geyser was impressive. Such an odd site, too. I had heard that these geysers were all around in Yellowstone, but until one finally stands before one and witnesses it first hand, it is hard to anticipate. All the trees in this part of the park were dead and tipped over with their roots attached and exposed. An earthquake about 30 years ago stirred the gases within and the trees burned from the roots.

I turned to gather the rest of the family to see the site. I was intercepted by five bison who were crossing the boardwalk and jumping down to the other geyser field on the other side of the path. Onlookers did not know how to react so they stood in close proximity taking pictures. A park ranger quickly came upon us and ordered everyone to stand clear. The bison passed with indifference, heavy and slow. The late sun painted a golden hue over mountain backdrop. A thunderstorm was off in the distance leaving a spectacular rainbow across the scene. My husband got out of the van while holding our screaming little one oblivious to the rainbow overhead. I pointed up when he saw me and he turned and shared the site. The sound of hooves hit the dirt and the ruffle of their breath was growing further away. They moved their heavy bodies up a narrow cliff over another large, boiling geyser with ease. I couldn't have even climbed it.

That night we saw more herds of bison. The elk gathered by a low marsh along a river and were frolicking with their young in a playful game of tag. They, too, know a good joke and a night well spent with family. It was now dark and time to retire for the evening. Old Faithful was ready to blow for tomorrow's tourists so we needed to get some sleep.

That night we listened for bears until we dozed off and knew they lurked around as we slept.

Wyoming

Taking I90 west and then some smaller roads across Wyoming, I saw perhaps a dozen vehicles pass us by during that whole stretch. There is no one out there. I mean no one. Never saw any wildlife there either. I was beginning to wonder why there was a road built here since no one used it, except us. The land was little hills of dirt with barely any sign of life to it. We finally came upon a tiny town of perhaps 40 people with some mobile homes and a bar. A young woman with makeup and some kind makeshift sexy outfit stood leaning against the light post like she was waiting for something. For whatever or whomever she was waiting for, it was not going to happen any time soon. In a minute, we were already out of the tiny town.

The children were asleep while when we approached Cody, Wyoming. A rodeo was in town and the place was jumping with cowboys and cowgirls, all dressed with leather chaps, hats and boots. They were a happy bunch and they all came at once to the local Dairy Queen where we decided to stop for a snack. A campground was next to it with teepees and regular camping. I thought the teepees were a façade, but then a guy came out of one, stretched, and then after a look around, went back in. I chuckled and ate my misty float.

Cody is a very cool town with lots of western flare. We wish we could have explored it better, but Yellowstone was on the list and we needed to find some bears. So we spent our memorial moment at the local Walmart and gave Riley her wish: getting her ears pierced.

It went quite smoothly. Two ladies each did an ear at the count of three. Now she has diamonds sparkling on each lobe. She stole a look at herself from every mirror she spotted throughout the store as we gathered some last-minute stuff like diapers and more paper plates. She felt beautiful, and to her, that is a necessity.

On to Yellowstone with our stuff and some fancy earrings. I had a hard time imagining how a National Park of this magnitude would present itself.

Devils Tower

As a child, I saw the movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind. There is a scene where everyone is mesmerized by the image of Devils Tower and start flocking to the site. The government tried to fake a chemical leak to discourage travel but some were able to sneak through to witness the landing of the gray aliens. I used to buy bubblegum that came with cardboard cards with pictures of the movie. I thought the aliens were so scary and would flip through those pictures real fast so not to frighten myself.

Thirty years later I get to see Devils Tower.

My expectations were quite modest. Something perhaps a thousand feet tall, and thick enough to run around it in a few minutes. When we came upon the sight from a distance of ten miles, I knew my speculations were way off. This tower is magnificent, immense and captivating.

A path follows its base of over 1.3 miles around. The tower is what was left of a mountain’s volcanic cone. The deep shards of vertical rock are actually long hexagons fused together and are stronger than any fitted formation. Imagine honeycomb stretched as high as a mountain and that is Devils Tower.

We brought binoculars to view the rock climbers descending one of the columns. Even through the binoculars, we could barely make them out. There are enormous fallen rocks piled a few thousand feet below the tower and Sean took the older children climbing. I stayed back with Bono and Keegan and made conversation with other tourists. A few would loose their footing and fall, dropping their belongings and cameras. Had they wore proper foot attire instead of flipflops, they would have easily avoided such spills and their cameras would still be functioning.

We picnicked under Devils Tower next to a wooden parameter fence. Liam wanted to sit on the top wrung but instead climbed so fast up he kept on going and his face met the dirt on the other side. He cried and cried but got over it while eating a marshmallow. Had his face still been swollen, it might have broken his fall better. Or not…

The surrounding topography of Devils Tower is prairie with brightly colored rock formations and trees growing along the rivers. We came upon an area filled with prairie dogs and let the kids out for a look without their slingshots because Fionn announced that he was going to shoot one in the face. So, we let them battle it out hand to hand. Riley, Liam and Fionn went out quietly tip toeing to each hole waiting to pounce. I knew they wouldn’t get one so I let them hunt for a while. The little prairie dog faces would poke out through a hole, eek out a warning and then all would disappear. The children started running from hole to hole louder and faster out of desperation. They finally came back all sweaty and dirty with no furry animals.

It was time to evaluate how we were doing on our westward travel. We drove northwest on I90 and headed toward Yellowstone.

I was tired, and Wyoming’s terrain became desolate, barren and lonely. I began to remember the warmth and safety of home back in Connecticut. I missed my bed, I missed the serenity of the gardens, I missed my daughter’s room. I closed my eyes and remembered everything as it were. I stood in my memory at Riley’s dresser putting away her clothes and then I began to cry. It was night now and the van was quiet. Liam said, “I want to go home.” I answered, “Me too.”

Breakfast With Sponge Bob

Breakfast with Sponge Bob

We enjoyed a most amazing pancake breakfast at Mt. Rushmore’s KOA. An old cowboy worked the grill with a squeeze bottle full of pancake batter. An artist, this guy, he quickly drew famous characters on the hot surface, let them lightly brown, then poured a glob of batter over it, waited and then flipped it to cook the other side. On top was an embedded picture of your favorite cartoon, animal, etc on top of your breakfast.

Our kids all got Sponge Bob. They returned for Patrick, his sidekick, and then later for pancakes of spiders with webs, their own faces and some other stuff. Families checked out our family—we are a little bit of a site—and then they all got to witness Bono pour his orange juice on the floor and stab Fionn in the ribs with a fork. Real nice. I love having my parental skills on display in front of a crowd. Bono spent most of breakfast in a time out.

We packed it up and headed to Mt. Rushmore. I attempted to explain what we were going to see to the children but all I got was a bunch of blinking eyes and then questions like, “Are they real?” or “Why?” or “Can I ride my bike?” and “Are we there yet?”

We had lunch in the camper at the top and watched a thunderstorm in the distance send lightening to the surrounding mountaintops. Once cleared, we began our walk to the entrance and saw the spectacular site. We brought the kids into the welcoming center where a small-scale monument sat on display. I heard some giggling and looked over Liam and Fionn with their fingers up the presidents’ noses saying, “Oh! I got a booger!”

Again, real nice.

We took a hike through the walkways, up a thousand stairs and to the lookout under the presidents’ actual site. We looked up in awe and marveled how difficult it was to perform such a task, removing and blasting rock from an area that didn’t have roads at the time.

Liam yelled, “I can see up his nose!”
“And he’s got a booooogggeer!” added Fionn.

We wrecked that moment for the nearby tourists. The boys couldn’t stop saying it. Boys will be boys, I guess.

We continued on and the boys found some little rocks to shoot in their slingshots. Begging for their opportunity to hurl some rocks, we made the mistake and let them have their weapons back. After a moment of bad judgment, they were confiscated again.

The towns surrounding Mt. Rushmore have plenty of activities that looked fun, but we needed to push westward so we headed out. Next stop, Devils Tower, Wyoming.

1880s Town & The Badlands

As a spectator from the side watching my kids have their fun while holding a baby, one sight made me want to quickly pass the baby on for a bout of goofiness. South Dakotas rolling hills start where one ends and are small enough for one to run up and down over and over again until one falls over from laughter or exhaustion. I felt like grabbing a ball and letting it go to see where it would end up. Unfortunately, there were fences everywhere preventing me from fulfilling this childish whim.

We came upon an old 1880s town preserved and used in the movie Dances With Wolves. Our house back in Connecticut was also built in that year so it was interesting to see how life was in that time. Horse and buggy, saloons, baths in the rear of an inn, red corncob to wipe your ass, white to see if you need another red one. Riley was happy to be alive in today’s era with modern conveniences; however, she wished everyone still wore those long frilly dresses and hats. Ah, the Ruby gene.

Preparing your kids to see and explore The Badlands is fun. I told my kids that we were going to a place that looks totally different than anything they have ever seen. Imagine a pink moon surface with bizarre rock formations, but with gravity. And that damn gravity caused a lot of scrapes and mishaps. I don’t know why my kids must run full speed to every cliff’s edge, or why they must climb the steepest cliff faster than a mountain goat and then get stuck on a ledge, but for the most part of the day my nerves were shot.

While driving through the Badlands National Park I asked to stop about every 1,000 feet to take pictures. There are lower yellow layers of exposed rock, which is from the time the dinosaurs roamed the earth. I don’t know about you, but feeling connected to the past is fascinating to me and this gave me great satisfaction.

We bought the boys slingshots and went out together to shoot some tourists. They were quickly confiscated and not returned until Mt. Rushmore, our next stop.

Awaking to Beauty

The drive through Minnesota and South Dakota was a long stretch of endless cornfields. Beautiful in its own right, the expansive sky was accompanied by a dark, forboding wall of clouds almost as dark as night. Sean continued westward and together we watched the storm approach. The children stared ahead and wondered if a tornado was forming. My husband, unfamiliar with these kinds of cloud formations looked the sky over trying to decide if we should seek a shelter.

We entered into the storm wall like a child enters a haunted house. It was within feet that the force surrounded us. Nothing could be seen through the front windshield and wipers were useless. I turned to see how the children were taking the deafening rain and there was Liam, laughing and screaming, feeling the thrill of it all. It was like another Niagara Falls boat ride to him.

"Tornado!" I yelled.
"WHAT?" Sean suddenly yelled and quickly looked up close in the front windshield, looking with great effort back and forth.
"Just joking!" I said laughing.

It was fun to watch him a little annoyed and embarrassed at my stupid joke. It was to be a long ride so I was going to make the most fun out of it. Around 1 am we pulled into a rest stop and stayed the night. We carried each child from the van into the camper and put them to bed. I couldn't wait for morning to see where we were. I could tell we were getting closer to the Badlands.

Thumbs Up!

Leaving Minnesota for me was the real beginning of leaving everything I know. I am not too familiar with the northwestern states and the drive south on I35 to catch I90 was full of anticipation of what was to come.

It was 85 degrees, sunny and a wind of gusts over 40 mph. I sat anxiously in the middle of the first row of seats watching the Twin Cities dissolve into cornfields. The winds met us head on yet our merriment grew stronger with every mile.

A car drove up along side us and an attractive blond waved at my husband and pointed upwards. Thinking that our kayak cover came loose again, my husband waved back, gave an eager smile with a thumbs up. We continued driving listening to the radio as another vehicle came up along side us and this time a balding middle-aged man urgently motioned to us and pointed. Again, my husband gave a jolly thumbs up with a knowingly and calm "I'll-get-to-it" nod.

About a mile passed and another song was about to start when a faint metal scraping sound could be detected from the side of our trailer. My husband looked in his side mirror and pulled off onto the shoulder immediately.

"What's wrong!" I asked.
"The awning!" he replied as he jumped out of the van.
I followed him to the side and there it was: the awning and all its metal framing on the ground alongside the trailer.

"Oh my God!" I said with my hand over my mouth.
"Must have dragged it a good mile," he paused, "Oh geez! Everyone must uv looked at me smiling and giving the 'ol thumbs up and thought, 'What an idiot!'"
I stared at the ripped awning and mangled metalin disbelief.

"How are we going to move this thing?" I asked.
"Going to have to stabalize it to get to the nearest exit. Maybe there is a gas station--where all those people might uv stopped--and then I'll come dragging in and they'll all go, 'Hey! There's that idiot!'"

Sean groaned and worked at getting the awning off at the next exit, watching if anyone recognized him. The awning had ripped from the sewing patch job he had done the day earlier when he had an accident while trying to wash it. He had spent a couple hours trying to sew it together and the high winds undid his patchwork.

We finally got back on the road and for the next few hours I listened to him mock what onlookers must have thought and I remained quiet. If he would have turned back to look at me I would have smiled at him and given the 'ol thumbs up!

Hay is for Horses and Cows Eat it Too

Spent a relaxing time at my step dad's farm. It is about 15 acres of alfalfa, corrals, barn and some rolling hills in the back good for cross country skiing and snowmobiling. He once had about ten horses but now has begun collecting antique cars so the barn has been converted to accomodate storing them.

A cat named Gorgeous greeted our ancles and circled around to each child's leg. Bono yelled with excitement and picked her up enthusiastically -- or should I say -- by the tail.

We got some carrots to feed the horse. Bono ate his carrot, Riley only wanted to watch, Liam fed the horse with confidence and Fionn tried throwing the carrots to the horse. In case you don't know, horses can't catch. (A little FYI there for ya)

About seven years ago an inground pool was added to the south side of the house and at night it glows different colors. We swam day and night and played silly contests of who could make the biggest splash or the most funny jump. Sean won with jumping high and landing on his butt on the diving board. He would bounce and fall into the water. The kids loved it and asked for more.

The next day Sean spent the afternoon cleaning the inside/outside of the camper and van to get it ready for the next leg of our trip. He had a setback with some awning trouble but got it resolved. The rest of the evening was spent helping bail hay and stacking it. Hard work is always satisfying and to see a job well done is one of my husband's best rewards.

It was time to head into South Dakota to see the Badlands and Mt. Rushmore so the next morning we said our goodbyes.

Where the Swedish Folk Live

We took a northern detour to Minneapolis, my home city to visit my relatives.
I am Swedish, come from a good-looking, tall and fair-skinned family. My grandfather, Roy, is truly eccentric. When I was a kid, he made homemade kites that were transparent and strong enough to send up lawn chairs with dummies sitting in them so it looked like people were floating in the clouds. He’d attach a timed bucket to release hundreds of notes to float through the air with little messages like, “Where am I?” or "How far are you from here?"

He made homemade ice cream, peanut brittle and fudge—the old fashioned way. He hated modern technology and often destroyed his television. He would go on juice fasts and preach health to everyone but loved Kozy Shack Rice Pudding. He would re-invent things like the toilet lever to flush. He’d rip it out and replace it with a string and a cork. Of course you wouldn't know about some of these re-inventions until you used his bathroom and then sat perplexed with the prehistoric levers he would put in modern's place.

Roy was a fantastic pianist and painter. He would turn to you in the middle of doing something and share a deep thought of his. He was always thinking about the wonderful and amazing things the body could do: He would call feet "earth pads" and would sit down with you and demonstrate the dexterity of your hand or how amazing it is to hold chop sticks.

My mother would tell me stories how he could lie on his back and hover a round grape over his mouth by simply blowing steadily on it. He would use fruit to explain the solar system. He would have his children gather the edges of a sheet and walk into high wind storms to really feel the gust and respect the force of nature.

He’s 94 now and my Uncle Roger picked up Roy to bring him to see us at a little sendoff for us organized by the family. He looked good despite a rough past six months and he asked to hold baby Keegan. I carefully placed him in Roy's arms and Keegan looked up and touched his great grandfather's face. A long gaze was shared and we all watched with great pleasure.

Also at the party was my Great Auntie La La. Fancy as they come, with false eyelashes and enough flare to send any room afire. Age cannot tarnish her beauty and wit.

At 88, she came into the party room with, “I need a drink before the fight starts!”

My mother, puzzled and a little curious, “What fight?”

“The fight between me and the bar tender when he finds out I have no money!” she laughs.

Now understand this: Auntie La has come from a legend--Great Grandma Ruby. Ruby was known to call the ambulance for her husband reporting that he was sick. Upon admittance, the doctors would find nothing wrong with him and he would return home only to find his wife, Ruby, all dressed up and ready to go out and party. That "Ruby Gene" has gotten a lot of us women in trouble... including myself. That's how I met my husband--having a "Ruby Moment."

So all was well and we enjoyed a good evening together. The children behaived as well as they could. Bono chucked a pool ball down the steps but did no harm. It was late and we continued on to my step-dad's farm to spend the night.

Day Five -- Our Final Departure From Wisconsin Dells

The weather has been in the low 100s. All of us carry frozen bottles of water and drink them as they melt. It is just too hot to stand in any line. Liam woke up late and stumbled into the kitchen for some breakfast. I casually placed a bowl of cereal in front of him, which he quietly ate. Everyone else was outside. After a few moments, he turned to me and said, "Here's my bowl, mom." I turned to get it from his hands and looked down at him with sudden alarm.

"Woa! Liam! Holy Cow!" I almost screamed.

"What, mom?" he curiously looked up at me.

"Your face! Your FACE!"

There Liam stood. A giant chipmunk, face so swollen he looked like he was storing over 100 nuts in his cheeks. His eyes were slits, his nose was a button in a massive pillow of roundness. I could barely recognize him. The sun and heat mixed with a severe overdose of waterproof sunscreen caused him to swell.

I called out the camper to Sean to quick have a look at him. Fionn awoke to see what the commotion was and came to the kitchen. I looked at Fionn and shrieked, "Oh my God! YOU TOO?!!!"

We were to drive to Minnesota to visit my relatives. Two of my kids weren't even recognizable.

Liam held a mirror and cried, "Am I going to look like this forever?"

"No, no," I assured him, handing him an icepack.

"Just a day or two," my voice starting to crack--holding back the sick, unexplainable laughter that I get when someone suffers from something absurd.

The drive to Minneapolis was one of me constantly checking back on my two fat-faced boys and forcing a calm smile across my face. It was a long ride.

Day Four At Wisconsin Dells

Our fourth day at Wisconsin Dells we spent yet another day playing at Mt. Olympus / Rome Water Park, and I was wondering if we would ever grow tired of all this much fun. We found a campground & RV place across the street of Hotel Rome for $40 a night that also included free passes to the Rome amusement park. Heck-uv-a deal! So we spent two nights and did the endless amount of go-karts and roller coasters.

There are little go-karts for the little tots and it is hilarious to watch! Fionn and Liam are competitive brothers and they each got a car. Lap after lap Liam raced other drivers and paid no attention to where Fionn was. Near the end of the race, Fionn suddenly made a break from the pack and passed his older brother Liam. A fierce race of the brothers took over the track on the last lap. Weaving back and forth, they pushed and bumped each other around tight turns and straights. The track assistant pushed the curb across the track to funnel the kids into the enclosed exit lane. Both brothers raced forward trying to be the first to enter the lane. Fionn and Liam smashed full speed into the lane, which caused all the other cars to crash into the back of them. One after one they came until there was a serious pile up. Fionn’s front wheel was over the curb and they both sat there looking at each other waiting for someone to announce the winner. On lookers realized they were brothers and had a good laugh. So the race was called a tie, and the brothers still tease each other of who was the better driver.

We closed our trip with a ride on the Wisconsin Ducks and toured Lake Dalton. The Duck ride is an amphibious vehicle used in WWII that would carry soldiers on and off land / water. It was a fun and fast trip through the woods, river and lake. One cannot truly say they toured Wisconsin Dells until you have ridden the Ducks!