Michigan to California
Spring Tour '98
PART IV; Page One of Two

Gotta press on to reach Minneapolis as early as possible We ride down through northern Wisconsin. Right away the geography changes. There are more hills. The famous dairy farms abound. We’re entering Scandinavian country where the religion is mostly Lutheran. It’s also lake country. Northern Minnesota has 10,000 lakes! We stop to buy cheese along the way. Our route 63 takes us across the river at LeCroix just east of the Twin Cities of St. Paul and Minneapolis.

Last summer we had a great visit here with our Nigerian friend, Wilson whom we had met at the B.W.M.T. ( (Black and White Men Together)national convention in Charlotte, North Carolina He invited us up so we came up from Chicago. Gay life here is very progressive. The huge entertainment complex called ‘Gay 90’s’ is a block square and accommodates one and all at the same time.

But this time for some reason we miss the connection with Wilson. So we used the afternoon to service the truck, repack, and walk along the Mississippi River that goes through the center of the city. I had planned to do this maintenance while the boys visited, but that didn’t happen. We finally decided to move on into the evening and we camped for the third night in a row out in the country in a little county park next to a lake.

Our mistake was not calling our voice mail in San Francisco. Wilson had left detailed instructions to meet him after school. Damn ! And this turned out to be our night to get rousted. We were tired and disappointed and the park we found was not for camping. Shortly after going to sleep the sheriff came banging on the van. The windows were covered so they didn’t see us. I think we opened the doors so they could see us. - and they turned out to be cool. They let us stay and didn’t ask for any credentials. But they said they would be back at six in the morning so we decided to leave out before then. We made if out be 5:45am. It was psyche up time because it was a 700 mile drive across the plains now across Minnesota, South Dakota and into Wyoming.

We did it, too; stopping for lunch as we crossed the Missouri River just like the pioneers did - except that we used a bridge instead of floating our covered wagon across. There was almost no traffic on the back roads - open range, and before dark we entered Buffalo, Wyoming where we decided to treat ourselves to our only motel on this trip. It was the right thing to do. Computer access and a bath tub for Dad.

On the way into town it had rained and our wipers quit. I needed to fix them before leaving out. It was a rod that fell off up inside and I had to remove some sheet metal to get at the problem. Not too serious. During the day we had taken turns driving and resting. We stopped along the Missouri river just like the pioneers had done before us. There’s a bridge now of course, and we didn’t have to float our wagon across; but the road was under repair with dirt and mud for miles and miles. Really, really remote. Open range. Cattle on the road. Most everyone lives in a mobile home out here - just like in parts of the Deep South. And the storms come up out of nowhere. Eighty mile an hour winds each time we’ve crossed the Great Plains. In Kansas, in Nebraska, in South Dakota. The sky is part of the landscape in these parts - especially when there is lightning.

At one point I pulled off the road onto what looked like gravel but wasn’t. It was pure sllck mud that it quickly stuck the wheels to the fenders. We couldn’t move a lick. I finally got a rear wheel up onto a board we carry along and made a run for it. We almost slid into a gulch. What it turned out to be was bentonite which is actually used as a lubricant for well drilling. Super slick stuff. The mud on the van is actually another kind of souvenir in some parts. The color tells people where you’ve been and the amount tells them how much fun you had - the more dirt; the more fun. So we didn’t wash the truck for a long time.

We didn’t visit the Black Hills this time because we’d done that last summer when we cut our trip short to make it home for Dori Alley "Up Your Alley’ Leather street fair in San Francisco. This time we are set to do Yellowstone National Park - America’s first. This is a time when getting there is more than half the fun. The next morning I went to the auto parts house for parts to fix the windshield wipers while boi packed up and finished the e-mail. At the end of the street was a most beautiful mountain stream running through this foothill town. Makes you want to just stay right there.

I got the part OK (It's great fun listening and talking to the local mechanics at the shop). I took it to the motel and put it on and adjusted the windshield washers too - we’re going to need them. We loaded up and got gas down the street (we carry an extra six gallons on board but we’ve never had to use it.) and off we go up Highway 16 over the highest pass in the Big Horn Mountains - 9,600 feet! on our way to the East gate to the park. It began to snow - more and more until the road was covered in a blizzard. Forget spring here - go straight to summer; or is it forget summer - go straight to fall. This is winter still - and it’s a real rush with snow suspended from the huge pine trees.

On the way down into Cody, Wyoming, the sun peeks out to perfectly back-light mirror clear alpine lakes. We’re not even thinking of Yellowstone at this point. We stop in to buy ‘last chance’ gas - just in case. There may not be any more until we get to Jackson. This is our day in the park. Our only deadline: Old Faithful by dark and we want to circle the interior of the park first. It costs twenty dollars to get in this year. There’s talk about closing the roads and taking people only by tour bus. Ya might as well just sell it to Disneyland. We’re glad we’re here now when there’s very little traffic. We can move at our own pace.

There’s an overlook high above Yellowstone lake. We stop before entering the valley. As we do we stop again to take pictures of deer, elk and moose - but no bears and we’re not looking for them especially. They can be really bad news.

The hardest part of enjoying the mud pits and other emerald pools effervescing from below the earth’s crust is the sulfur smell. I wonder if they’ve done an environmental impact study? No matter. It comes with the territory and there’s a lot of it. We continue through meadows and along rushing rivers. Old Faithful is sixteen more miles through an entire valley of plumes from thermals rising up into the sky. Excitement rises along with them. The sun is setting. There’s the parking lot. Let’s go find out when the next eruption is.. ah ha: It’s at 9:12 and he time is 8:50. Perfect timing. We go inside the lodge to shop for trinkets and buy place mats for our breakfast nook. Places everyone. It’s easy - only few people. Here it comes! Pouf! Again and again.. Up, up and away. We’re seeing Old Faithful. But somehow it doesn’t look quite as high as it did when I first saw it in the summer of ’54. Maybe it isn’t. There have been recent earthquakes that have affected the timing. And another geyser nearby has begun to erupt after a long dormant period. Perhaps it’s taking pressure off of Old Faithful. Still, it’s an amazing display of nature.

Time to eat and rest. No camping in the park unless you make reservations months ahead. We didn’t. But we find a turn-out at Lake Lewis and back up into the trees. It’s 35 degrees tonight. Didn’t even consider the bears at this point. I always position the van so the sun comes in the window just so - to wake me up. We light the stove before we get up in the morning, though - to warm up the van. This time we don’t take long to be off and running. Breakfast is ahead at Jackson Lake and the Grand Titons. There are some moose on the road so we pull off the road. Rodtney goes towards the lake. I climb a bluff to take some pictures. When I come down there’s a Park Ranger visiting with boi (he hasn’t seen me). He’s casual, cool and coy. I sense he’s checking boi (and us) out with our California license plates and darkened van. So I enter into the conversation and tell him we sneaked a parking spot last night. He tells us about his ten years riding horses patrolling 2,000 acres out on the north quarter. I really should have asked him about his sex life out there.