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.