#3 of  the series.

I’d only met Joe Pachak once, and it was sad to hear that he had passed just a few months ago. But even in that brief encounter he left a lasting impression on me.

This Saturday, we drove up to Edge of the Cedars State Park where they were hosting an indigenous art fair and a memorial for him. His imprint is all over the visitors center. The stucco walls of the interior are covered with rock art he has painstakingly replicated, pulling you into the liminal spaces where his friends said he lived. A plain stairwell now alive with the mystery of the ancients, a high panel above the lights in the room maybe bearing down on you just a little bit. Outside, playful and thought-provoking sculptures adorn the grounds. The Sun Marker, in particular, celebrates the liminal space the solstices represent, harbingers of lighter days becoming darker days, but also hopeful messengers of brighter times ahead.

I think Joe will live on, maybe in the ravens who, according to those that knew him, always seemed to be nearby. But I digress…

The entrance “stone” for Bluff states that it was established in 650 A.D. The Mormons arrived in 1880, after an arduous journey from Cedar Flats, the only wagon train to ever travel eastward as I understand it. But the Chaco culture had established a community here dating back to 600 A.D. and constructed a public Great House sometime around 1100 A.D. So five centuries of occupation before even the Great House was constructed. The Mormons had nearly abandoned Bluff by 1930, apparently due to the short growing season and the overgrazing of cattle. Quickly becoming a town of “outlaws and misfits” as one writer puts it, Bluff has today evolved into a unique little community.

I like it.

And we have arrived! A leisurely 2700 miles through Tennessee, Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Nebraska, Colorado, and Utah. Not all who wander are lost, although I think we got close a couple of times.

Before we started our new stint, we connected up with the BEEC team. Kirsten, Carolyn, Sarah, Semira, and Molly all welcomed us in. And we have a brand-new volunteer joining, camping next door in his truck camper. I say “brand-new,” but this man has wandered these canyons for a couple decades, and we are excited to join him this month. And since Brandon is going to split the schedule with us, we have even more time to explore area and Visit with Respect.

So I’ll keep this post short as I attempt to transition from describing a traveling journey to perhaps a more spiritual and reflective one. It’s a challenge, partly because the days are full and flow by quickly, but also because I may entertain ideas and thoughts with which you may not agree or that may come across as more whimsical. There’s always a risk of sounding, well, silly.

But then again, when I started a blog I made a decision that, if nothing else, it’s just for me. A way to capture memories and the feelings that surround them.

So let’s see where this goes.

#2 of  the series.

Maybe it was the Trail through Time trail. Maybe it was what appeared to be just a few widely-spaced primitive campsites on top of the mesa. Or maybe it was $20/night cut to half-price for being old. Whatever it was, we booked a couple of nights to give us a little breather.

Rabbit Valley campground is split by I-70 and is about two miles from the Utah state line. The southern half is apparently more for OHV and horse camp setups, while the northern part seems to be better suited for smaller rigs and the MTB crowd. We chose the mesa and had just incredible views all around. Nice and clean and quiet. This was the first and only time we unhooked the trailer from the truck in our two weeks west.

We learned that we were overlooking an active dinosaur quarry (the Mygatt-Moore Quarry) and that the interpretive loop trail worked its way along the Morrison Formation, perhaps the richest dinosaur fossil layer in the world.

I was a dinosaur fan before I could read. There was just something fascinating about these “terrible lizards” in all their many species and forms. To imagine how these beasts walked and thrived on the earth for so many millions of years was just so cool. But over time it all became more abstract and distant. The arrival of the movie Jurassic Park in 1993 helped rekindle that fascination.

There were just a handful of fossils on the Trail through Time loop, but they were BIG fossils. The diplodocus vertebrae embedded in the rock just jarred me. A single vertebra the size of a five-gallon bucket. Part of an animal that by reasonable estimates was 70 feet long and easily weighed over 20 tons.

And then we saw the kiosk titled The Dinosaur Diamond. It described a 500-ish mile loop through NW Colorado and NE Utah, complete with a legend of the waypoints. Hmmmm…what are the possibilities? That night we watched Jurassic Park.

While investigating a trailhead, we met a local couple who thought that Rabbit Ears would be better for us, since this was our first time in the area. A loop hike atop a mesa with views of the Colorado river. They were right! Just what we were looking for on a lovely day.

Wind and rain were the rule for Sunday, so we took some downtime and did a little planning. We decided to reserve a few more days, upping our two-night stay to six. The solar power system was working great, but we were beginning to push the limits of our tanks.

A strong storm front manifested itself near dusk, with 40 mph gust really rockin’ the camper. As it passed through, Patricia’s eye caught the beginning of one of the best rainbows we’ve ever seen. And in a moment, it was gone!

That evening we laid out a plan to hit a few spots along the eastern part of the Dinosaur Diamond loop. Swing up to Rangely, west to Dinosaur National Monument and then turn back, hitting as many locations as we could. It was going to be a long day and several hundred miles, but who knew when we’d be back this way?

With an early start on a chilly, blustery morning, we hit Colorado highway 139 heading north to Rangely. This is when I learned that in Colorado one should also look up the “Indian name” of the road. Especially if it includes “pass” like “Douglas Pass Road.” After rolling an hour through flat country, we began to climb and it began to snow. The temperature dropped to freezing and the road was disappearing fast. We had no cell coverage and no mapping available. There was a sign that said “Avalanche Area.”

With 4WD, we should be able to make it, right? But what if it keeps snowing? We’ll be a long way from the camper and the only other route will be over 300 miles back. Yeah, Shakespeare said it best, “The better part of valor is discretion.” We turned back (we found out later that the pass had been closed until the snow plow could clear it).

Switching our days, we checked out a few sites around Fruita. Riggs Hill, Dinosaur Hill, the Fruita Paleo Loop trail, and the Dinosaur Discovery Museum made for an amazing day! And that night we watched the second Jurassic Park movie. And it was so.

---

I am not sure how I feel about the whole thing! Which is more weird? A man that decided to dropper-feed a headless chicken for 18 months? Or that people were so amazed that Mike became a national sensation, with the brainless wonder pulling in over $60,000 a month (in today’s dollars)!? Fruita continues to hold a yearly festival the weekend after Memorial Day for Mike!

---

Whew, enough of that.

We checked out a few pictographs in Cañon Pintado, and then made a beeline for Dinosaur National Monument, the crown jewel of the Diamond Loop.

While the monument is big, our time was limited and it was the quarry site that had my main interest. At the visitors center we were warned to watch out for the construction at the quarry. Rolling in, we saw the digging in the newly-paved parking lot. Walking to the quarry, we realized that the construction was actually a dinosaur dig site! Three paleontologists were extracting and prepping a large bone for removal.

I asked one, “Did you just run out of places to dig?” She smiled and replied, “Well, it’s close to the restrooms.” She then explained that when the parking lot was being remade and enlarged, that more bones had been found and extracted. This was the last little piece and would be paved over soon.

The quarry is unique in the world. Here, an ancient river flowed fast enough to sweep the small bones away but the largest were deposited in a “logjam” of giants. Excavations started around 1902, but around 1940 a new idea was considered. What if the face of the rock layer could be cleaned to show the many bones, leaving them in place for all to see? A building was placed over the site and over the next 40 years(!) the rock was slowly and painstakingly chiseled around the bones. Today you can see over 1500 bones from dozens of species. It’s a truly incredible sight to see (and if you are smart, like me, you will take your binoculars 🙂 ).

Vernal, UT is the home of the Utah Field House of Natural History State Museum. Another wonderful stop with a variety of fossils including a saber-tooth herbivore?!

After lunch we burned our way back down Douglas Pass road, made camp and started packing for Bears Ears. By morning the wind had calmed, the skies had cleared, and it was time to move on.

Going to Bluff today! We turned off of I-70 and onto Utah highway 128 along the Colorado River. They say it’s a scenic byway, you decide.

The road carried us into Moab, where we briefly considered stopping. Nah. Nothing to see here…

The start of  the series.

hiatus /hī-ā′təs/ – A gap or interruption in space, time, or continuity; a break.

Yeah, that’s it. That’s what I’ve been on, a hiatus. I had bigger plans for the past year, we’ve actually had a very busy and exciting past year with both family and adventure! And I wanted to share. But I’ve always said to accomplish anything that you need time, money, and energy. Two of those are generally easy to come by, having all three can be fairly difficult. So for the blog, the energy has been lacking. Maybe this journey will help with that.

This year, we had even bigger plans spaced throughout the year, finishing up with a couple of major adventures this fall.

And then an unexpected thing happened.

Our family of 12 is becoming a baker’s dozen! Right in the midst of the fall finish. And in a moment, a natural adjustment of priorities has cleared the harvest time calendar and crowded the next few months with blessings, what a nice problem to have.

So as we started our trip west, we took a few days to swing north and sneak in some quality time with family.

Our first stop was Buchanan, TN to visit my sister Pat and her husband Don. They have a nice spot in the country and spring was in full swing. And it was such a treat when their daughter Sheri came up to see us as well! With what has become a tradition, we had dinner at the Stockade in Murray, KY. Locally known as the Bull, it’s a fine all-you-can-eat buffet.

And here I made a mistake. A harbinger of sorts. The weather in middle Tennessee has been very dry this spring, and there was only a slight chance of rain in the evening. As we were finishing up our meal, thunder rattled the restaurant. “Uh oh,” I thought, I left the camper door and roof vent open! A strong line of storms had swept in and we were 30 minutes away. Don hurried us home, but the squall line had outrun us before we ever left the parking lot.

On a personal note, I actually feel like I handled the stress pretty well hahaha. Not a thing I could do except to just relax and hope maybe the storm didn’t reach that far south.

But it had. And the door was facing it. Even with the screen door closed, all the cabinets and much of the interior was soaked, all the way to the far side. At first the floor didn’t look too bad, but that was because the water was running into the bathroom and pooling in front of the shower, over an inch deep. Well, I had been meaning to wipe down the interior before we left…

But there was much good news. We hadn’t set the tv up, so it was spared. Airstream had switched to a non-wood laminate subfloor the year our camper was made, so no damage there. And the new roof vent was guaranteed to ward off the rain when open, which it did admirably.

Lesson learned. Count your blessings.

After a nice visit, we headed north to Indianapolis, having avoided interstate highway the entire way so far. The expectant couple was already feathering the nest for the new arrival. They live in a big subdivision, with tight housing and parking. There are tons of kids in the neighborhood too, with a parade of school busses rolling through on schedule. Bret and Rachel’s house is pretty unique in that the back yard is up against a large pond used for runoff control, it even has a fountain! As such, they get to enjoy much wildlife around the pond throughout the year. And about once a quarter, they do a trash pickup around it to keep it looking nice and to protect the critters from all the entangling plastic and other trash. Kudos to them!

We just parked Ooo Shiny on the street (with one eye peeled for errant soccer balls until Rachel assured me that the kids were mindful) and enjoyed a couple of days of just chillin’. Walking the ‘hood, watching movies, and just plain ‘ol hanging out. Honestly, it was the most that I had slowed down in months. Such a sweet visit!

We were, at this point, undecided towards a more northerly route over to Utah, so we thought Ray Behrens Campground on Mark Twain Lake would keep our options open. Besides, it was morel mushroom hunting season, with Missouri and Illinois being prime hunting grounds…

Upon our arrival, we found our spot and Patricia started to guide me as I backed in. I heard a shout, and lo and behold, there was a blond morel literally sprouting out of the ground right beside the driveway! The first we have ever found east of the Rockies! We were so excited we didn’t even unpack. We walked the woods, looking and looking for supper!

And we didn’t find another one. We did find a severed stem, apparently the morel hunters had beat us out. And the one we did find had the top bitten out of it, probably why the morel hunters left it.

I hate morel hunters. They don’t share and they’re just full of lies, lies, lies concerning the little gems whereabouts. And then they just gloat over their full baskets. Ugg. Okay, I don’t really hate them, but I disdain them as a general rule.

Being near the Mark Twain birthplace, we wanted to check out the museum. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn were staples growing up! Losing yourself in one of Twain’s adventures as a youngster is almost like teleportation.

The museum was closed, so we set our sights on USACE campground Tuttle Creek near Manhattan, Kansas, home of Kansas State University. Backroads all the way today.

We found ourselves on Route 36 for most of it. We began noticing silhouettes of riders on galloping horses randomly placed on hilltops along the highway. Did you know that this was part of the route for the Pony Express? Do you even know what the Pony Express was? Well, dear reader, it was, according to https://www.nps.gov/poex/index.htm :

“…the west’s most direct means of east–west communication before the first transcontinental telegraph was established…”

Between Missouri and California, the express shaved communication down to an unheard of 10 days! And it was in operation for about 18 months until the telegraph was constructed.

Traveling through Seneca, KS, there was a sign pointing to the historical downtown. Should we take the side trip? Patricia says jokingly, “Why not? We might see a hand-dug well or something!” She was referring to the Big Well we had discovered last year in Greensberg, KS.

As we turned off of the Pony Express route, we now found ourselves on the Road to Oz!! How crazy is that?! Well, it is Kansas. Fortunately, we turned again before we got there. I didn’t want to go to Oz, I’m still traumatized from childhood by all the flying monkeys pulling the stuffings out of the Straw Man…

We had a nice dinner in downtown Manhattan (Kansas lol) at the Tallgrass Taphouse and snagged a couple of local brews for the journey. Stretching west the next day, we were looking to stop around Brush, Colorado at a city park for the next night, and it was going to be a long day. The park was first come, first serve, and there wasn’t the best feeling about it when I called. So we’ll see.

Rolling up through Nebraska, we were amazed at the extent of irrigation, cattle farming, and grain hauling. While all of the secondary roads were is really good shape, the grain trucks doing 90mph and the heavy winds were taking a toll. We were still 100 miles from Brush when we spotted Enders SRA, located beside the eponymous reservoir.

Yeah, it’s time to take a break. There was an attendant attempting to water newly planted saplings, but he was having a go of it with the wind and dust whipping around. I pulled down to ask how to register, and he suggested I go a little further down, where the cottonwoods would better block the wind. He kept trying to show us the place on his phone, and kept apologizing for all the dust that kept covering it up! We took his advice, which added several miles of dusty, washboard road, but ended up at a nice, grassy spot creekside. The whole enterprise was a bit run down, but we had it to ourselves and around midnight the wind finally calmed itself.

The little park was surrounded by huge irrigation plots. While the entire upper midwest is under a severe fire risk, the plots are using ancient water pulled from the Ogallala Aquifer.

It was good to relax! We figured we could leave early to make up the miles, but determining the next camp would have to wait, this place was isolated and there was no cell service. Which in itself was nice, we found ourselves chatting about stuff we normally wouldn’t chat about, took outside showers, and listened to the only six songs I had downloaded on my phone. The next morning we were greeted with a cacophony of mourning doves, turkey gobbles, and woodpecker discussions. And not another manmade sound.

Loading up with fresh water, we followed Route 6 all the way to I-70 at Sterling, arriving with a whisper of fuel left in the gas tank.

We rolled through Colorado, stopping only for fuel and the occasional break. Colorado may be the only state where you generally cannot do the speed limit safely! Between the rough roads, potholes, construction, and oh yeah, the Rockies, I rarely kept up with the speed limit.

Strange as it may seem, we almost completely ignored the State of Colorado and traveled nearly to the Utah border from Nebraska. This was all a bit punishing, but it takes effort to find a camping spot unless you want to be in a parking lot somewhere, especially at this time of the year. For just an overnighter, we didn’t want a high-dollar RV park. And for Colorado state parks, there’s a hefty vehicle permit fee added. Opting to avoid all the humanity, we eventually aimed for Rabbit Valley as our destination. I don’t know why, just a feeling I guess. A primitive BLM campground on the other side of Grand Junction and just a couple of miles from the Utah border.

This turned out to be a good choice and a turning point in the quest west.