Powerful

Today’s events were brought to us by Donovan. It was his day off from Yamon, so Rucker arranged for him to show us some of the island. Our chariot arrived at 9:00 AM, and to our surprise it was the same vehicle that had taken us to our cruise drop-off the last two days. Problem was, we had 9 people and 7 seats –you do the math. It worked on the short ride to the beach, but only with Anna on Marshall’s lap. And now that Donovan was riding along, there was no way we’d fit. Like a gentleman, he volunteered to sit on Sharon’s lap! Her indignant reaction was priceless, as she quickly put a stop to that nonsense. Another form of transport would have to be found.

It was only a few minutes later that another, larger van met us and we switched vehicles. We were to be taken to breakfast in Donovan’s town, Grange Hill, so we left Negril and headed inland and uphill. The road was blacktopped, but narrow and full of potholes. Homes seemed to be clinging to the hillsides, propped by blocks, rocks, or any combination of sticks and stones to keep them upright. The condition of the homes was shocking. Ramshackle dwellings made of cement block, plywood, corrugated tin, tarps, and weathered paint were the norm. As Mark put it, “Everything is either under construction, or destruction”. The unfinished buildings seem to outnumber the finished ones, and most show spires of rebar jutting from the tops. The driver that picked me up at the airport had explained that it is very difficult to get loans in Jamaica, so people save up money to build. They build until the money runs out, hopefully with enough construction done so part of the structure is liveable, then wait until they save more money to continue. It appears that many never save up enough to continue. Nothing seems finished here. Nothing.

As we ascend, the town gives way to a more rural setting. There are fields and cattle, and the ubiquitous goats. They forage in the ditches, on the hillsides, and in yards. We pass sugar cane fields in various stages of growth; the mountains appear in the distance. The road narrows even more as it wends its way between fields. We pass a young girl, filling her water bottle from a leak in the irrigation pipe. Two shirtless men with machetes cut sugar cane while large, open sided wagons wait for their loads of cane. Soon we arrive at our destination, “the best restaurant in Grange Hill,” Donovan assures us.

It’s a small, one-room building that clearly has seen better days. There is one table and a couple counters along one wall, covered in peeling contact paper. They seem unprepared for a group of our size – and we’re only seven! After some discussion, a plate of food appears. It’s a ‘sample’, and I somehow get elected to taste and approve the dish. It consists of dumplings, yam, callaloo, and a thin banana. The dumplings are very dense and doughy, but edible. The yam is light yellow, not orange like we’re used to, and tastes more like a regular potato. So does the banana. I already know what callaloo tastes like. I approve the dish, and more plates are brought out. What’s this? More discussion takes place at the counter. It appears they’re out of something, and plates of chicken curry are brought out for our approval. Chrissy does not care for curry, so we switch plates and forge ahead. Soon everyone has something to eat, and a carton of orange juice to drink. The chicken is tasty, but has been randomly hacked apart and has little bone fragments throughout. It’s how they cut up chicken in Russia! I remember wondering at the time why no one knew the proper way to cut up a chicken. We appear to be attracting attention, and a young man keeps slinking closer to the restaurant. At first he nonchalantly watches from across the street, then he crosses the street and takes up a position near the van, and before long he’s at the side of the restaurant peering through the open side. A laughing man on a motorcycle roars up and checks things out, chattering rapidly with the locals. We finish our breakfasts unmolested and move on.

After a quick stop at the local market for drinks and snacks, we are underway to whatever Donovan has planned for us next. The town falls behind us, and we’re in a more rural area once more. There are fields of sugar cane on both sides, and we pass a sugar mill. The number of abandoned homes is simply unbelievable. One house in particular catches my attention. It is large and roomy, with a beautiful porch and columns in front; a tile roof tops the bright white walls and a solid fence surrounds the entire property. But it is empty. Abandoned. I wonder who owns all those abandoned houses we see, if anyone. Why don’t squatters take over? I will never know.

I enjoy looking at the lush foliage that I only see as potted plants at home. Crotons here are large bushes; pothos climbs to the top of tall trees, the leaves getting bigger and bigger as the plant gets higher. My favorites are the fan palms, with their giant fronds fanning outward and upward, like arms reaching for the sky. Riotous blooms of azaleas and bougainvillea make lively spots of color in even the most humble yards.  We pass another abandoned business, and I spot a pile of rubble with broken concrete columns and pillars. It’s exactly what I want for the ‘ruins’ I’d like to create on my back hillside! Too bad…

We arrive at our next destination, Roaring River. Donovan explains that tourists go to places like Dunn River Falls, but locals go to Roaring River. We pay our $12 fee in a tiny decrepit shed, and a young barefoot Rasta sweeps us up. His name is Dirt. Seriously. But he works hard for his money, and shows us every small detail of his world. Dirt wades into the river, picking plants for us to taste. He points out the types of trees, and picks leaves for us to smell. “See the shape of these roots? It’s an elephant. There’s his eye, and his ear, and his trunk reaching out to the water. Powerful.” He randomly shouts out to no one in particular, “Jo! Rastafari! Powerful!” At the top of a short path, we arrive at a cave entrance. We have to duck beneath a low-hanging rock to enter. “Cheap rock. Expensive brain,” Dirt explains.

Inside the cave, he shines a light around the chambers, illuminating the animal and human shapes. “All created by water. Powerful!” In one chamber, 2 drummers play and sing for us. In another, you can see the stubs of candles where people come to pray. Dirt explains there is a cold mineral spring inside the cave and the water has healing properties. He takes us to the spring, where Sharon, Chrissy and I submerge ourselves in the flowing water. Dirt’s final trick for us is a spectacular dive into a ‘bottomless’ pool. Powerful!

After the cave, we are taken down to the river where we can swim. We seem to be attracting the attention of the villagers, who saunter closer and closer, one or two at a time. After a quick dip, we’re on the road back to Negril. But first, we need to pick up the driver’s son at school. He is 3, and cute as a button. The school uniforms are made of purple gingham, and he looks adorable in his little purple shirt and Cars backpack. He sits quietly on the seat next to me as we make our way back to Negril.

Back in the city, Donovan takes us to a couple shopping spots so Sharon can look for the elusive wooden giraffe she’d seen on her first day in town. Funny how all the booths and stalls carry the same merchandise! Back at the castle, everyone disappears for naps before dinner. Are we getting old, or what?!

We try Rick’s café for dinner. It is a popular tourist spot on the cliffs, famous for sunsets and cliff diving. We missed both, but enjoy the starry sky and the ocean waves at an outdoor table. I choose jerk chicken, and Chrissie finally gets the beef she’s been craving. I am disappointed in jerk chicken. Both times I’ve had it, it was kind of blah. Once it was salty, but not spicy. This time it’s just bland. I thought jerk chicken was spicy? I remember when I made a Jamaican dinner for Christmas. Josh and Mariah had honeymooned there, which is why I chose it that year. Mariah said my food was much better than what they had in Jamaica, and now I know what she means.

I ended the day on my balcony, enjoying the warm sea breeze and reggae music from somewhere in the neighborhood. How many people in the world right now are in a castle by the sea? Not many, but I am! Powerful!

Sun Is Shining

I love themes. My whole family does, actually. We can come up with a theme for even the most mundane event, and then feel compelled to carry out the theme to the nth degree. Winter Wonderland weekend, Bacon birthday, Pumpkin Recipe day – yes, we’ve done them. Dr. Seuss Christmas, Rubber Ducky birthday, and Olympic opening ceremonies dinner have all happened. So a castle-themed resort in Jamaica is a perfect fit for me.

Blue Cave Castle is a quirky take on a Medieval castle, perched on limestone cliffs overlooking the Caribbean Sea. The steps to my room are very tall, like they were built for giants. There are wooden shields on the wall, the furniture has crenellated edgings, and gold and red tapestries adorn the windows. My family would call it very ‘Spanish Inquisition’ style. But the artwork on the walls is Jamaican, with carved wooden faces that look like Bob Marley, and one that looks weirdly like P. Diddy. There is a TV in my room, but I haven’t even turned it on yet. I probably won’t. I haven’t turned on the air conditioning either. There is a nice breeze always blowing through my room, and I love having the windows open all the time.

I woke to the sound of rain, but it was just a brief shower and the sun was back out in no time. I tried a Yardie omelet for breakfast, which is a vegetarian omelet with callaloo in it. (Why ‘Yardie’? Because it’s full of stuff growing in your yard?) We ate early so we would be ready for our day trip. Today’s itinerary is an Island Picnic with the same tour group we were with yesterday.

Donovan and Marlon were our guides and captains both days on the catamaran, and took us back to the coral reef for more snorkeling. There was a family of 5 from Burlington, Iowa on today’s cruise. Did I mention I really love to snorkel? I was cursing not having the underwater camera, because there were no clouds so you could see the reef perfectly. And I saw a cannon! Really! How cool is that?

After snorkeling, we cruised to Booby Cay for a lobster dinner. The lobster was grilled and served with, what else? Rice and peas, and callaloo. Then we relaxed on the island, taking photos with Ralphie the puppet and lying in the sun. There was a vendor selling jewelry and souvenirs, but no one bought anything from her because she was a total bitch. She was the exception, though, because everyone else has been very friendly.

Arriving back at the castle, I took a shower and did a total face plant on the bed. I’m talking dead-to-the-world asleep. It felt so good! Our cabdriver sang to us on the way to 3 Dives, where we watched an amazing sunset while waiting for dinner. The grilling is done outdoors in a steel drum, and all seating is outdoors. I had conch, rice and peas, and callaloo. Now, I’m not going to lie, I like rice and beans and callaloo but I’m starting to get a little tired of it. Sharon and Chrissy are done with it entirely. We need a different side dish, mon.

We ended our day with a phone call to Ralph and Mel. It was so good to talk to them, and Ralph loved hearing about our adventures. He wants to see lots of pictures, and we are certainly going to have some great ones to show them. Goodnight, Ironman and Lady Iron!

Come on feel the noise

The view from my room!

Loud. If I had to describe Jamaica in one word, it would be ‘loud’. Perfect example: I am typing this in my room at Blue Cave Castle in Negril, with all my windows open to the warm sea breeze. And I can hear a Jamaican man yelling loudly at someone, or something, or maybe just to hear his own thoughts. But he is LOUD! He is not nearby, but his loud voice carries through the night, letting me and everyone else for blocks know around that he has something to say.

Last night was like that. It was Saturday night, and the Jamaicans were enjoying the weekend. With loud music, loud voices, and loud laughter. Everything seems to be at full volume here. Jamaicans do not snicker – they throw back their heads and let loose with belly-deep guffaws. Their rhythmic patois pounds out like the beats of a hammer. Music is not played as background, for passive listening – reggae booms from speakers, demanding you to pay attention. I fell asleep last night to the unique sounds of a Jamaican night.

Even the animals are noisy. A cacophony of barking dogs can be heard almost continuously. A confused rooster crowed loud and long in the dark morning, hours before daybreak. And though I haven’t seen it yet, there is a very vocal bird lurking around the castle with a voice like a crow on steroids.

As I finished unpacking my suitcase this morning, I listened to a furious Jamaican woman as she sauntered down the road, tossing insults over her shoulder – at top volume - to an unseen adversary.  There was no answer, just her soliloquy; though I couldn’t understand a word, her tone made it quite clear that someone was in very hot water.

Breakfast at the hotel was a leisurely affair. Everything in Jamaica is a leisurely affair, actually. The cook decided to make breakfast when he was good and ready; the waitress finally came to take our orders just as Rucker had stepped away from the table, so she casually sat down on a nearby bench and said she’d wait for him. Sorry, no bacon. Sorry, no sausage either. Fruit? No. Okay. Pancakes or omelets it is.

Breakfast over, we made arrangements for a dinner excursion later on. Mark and I explored the cave beneath the castle, and scared out a couple big bats. The cliffs and caves are made of limestone, created 40 million years ago from marine sediment. The fossilized creatures are visible throughout the rock. Ladders reach from the cliffs into the sea; we climbed down and swam in the crashing waves. (Hey, I’m from the Midwest – they’re all crashing to me!) I tried to sit on a submerged rock and it was like clinging to a greased pig. The waves pummeled me back and forth; I had bleeding lacerations on my palm and rock chips embedded in my fingers from the short time I managed to hang on.

We walked to a nearby hotel to find lunch, where we were the only customers. I think the restaurant is open only if and when anyone shows up. I ate red snapper, salad, and rice and peas while listening to some crazy religious songs on the radio – our church service for Sunday? The short walk to and from the restaurant was interesting – there are no shoulders or sidewalks so you just walk along the road, dodging cars (they love to honk their loud horns), noisy motorcycles, potholes and trash. Lots of trash.

It was starting to spit rain just as we were picked up for our catamaran cruise, but it was a brief shower and didn’t dampen our spirits. Our first stop was at a coral reef, where we could snorkel. We geared up, and went over the side. Breathe, Sandy, breathe. While I love to snorkel, it takes every bit of my willpower to overcome the panic I feel when I put my face in the water. Irrational, I know. But it’s there just the same, and I have to talk myself into the fact that I can breathe through the snorkel. Once my initial panic is over, the rest is pure magic. There is a lot to see – corals, sea fans, sea urchins, and brightly colored little fish – and our 45 minutes is over far too quickly. Once I’m back on the boat, I can finally relax with a rum punch!

Tis is when my camera fails. One second I’m taking a photo of one of our guides; the next a message pops up that the battery door is open (which it’s not) and I cannot take another shot. Fabulous – my first full day of vacation and the camera quits. No more pictures for me. Damn, damn, damn.

Our next stop is Pirate’s Cave, and we bail off the boat to swim to the cave. These cliffs are full of caves and undercuts, large and small. Inside the cave is a place to climb out of the water, where we catch our breath before swimming back to the boat. Of course I don’t have any pictures of this since my camera decided to die! Once aboard, dinner is served. The traditional Jamaican meal of jerk chicken, rice and peas, and callaloo (cooked greens of some sort) is washed down with plenty of Red Stripe beer or rum punch.

We motor along the cliffs to Rick’s place, where brave souls can dive off the cliffs from platforms of varying heights. None of our group wants to dive, so we watch and cheer the more daring people as they plunge into the waves. We stop one more time on the way home, to watch the gorgeous sunset. Ralphie (Mark’s newest puppet) comes out for a photo shoot and to entertain the crew. They want to keep Ralphie. Wouldn’t a Jamaican puppet, with dreads and a Marley shirt, be awesome? Mark’s next  project?

Back at the castle, I start searching Google for information about the camera malfunction. Bad news. It seems the error message I saw was a common problem when these cameras were first introduced. This is an older model, but it has always been a great camera and has been all over the world with no other issues. No suggestions for overriding the message are available. L

What’s that? Oh goody, a dogfight. And that stupid rooster is at it again! GOODNIGHT JAMAICA!

You know, I don't know!

Well, that was interesting! I spent the night trying to sleep in a 'bed' made of two armchairs pushed together. I say trying because the only way to lie down was on my side curled up like a shrimp. That would last long enough for me to doze off, when my hip would start to ache and wake me up. I would then flip over and repeat the process on the other side. At one point I made the mistake of stretching out, which caused the chairs to slide apart and left my butt hanging in mid-air. That necessitated a complete repositioning of both the chairs and myself. Good grief!

5 AM arrived, and apparently I had actually fallen asleep at some point because 2 of the soldiers and their cots were gone. They may have simply fled in terror after glimpsing me in my sleep mask, earplugs, and bedhead. But Tumbleweed was still there, albeit groggy. (The nickname came from his disjointed story about a tumbleweed changing his life. No, I have no clue.) I said goodbye to him and Renee and left for my next connection.

I felt almost human again after brushing my teeth and drinking a cup of hot tea. We flew out over a sleeping Dallas, the city lights brilliant in the pre-dawn. I hadn't realized Dallas was so flat. No, actually I had never even thought about it before until I saw it stretched out for miles beneath me. It's odd how there are things you don't even know you don't know until you know them.

I watched the sun rise from 30,000 feet. After a short layover in Charlotte and a quick breakfast, I was back on a plane - this time for Jamaica! As we descended to the island, the dark blue of deep ocean water gave way to the lovely aquamarine of shallower seas. The kids in front of me were giddy with delight, planning how quickly they could change into swimsuits on and get in the water.

Unfortunately, it wasn't going to be very quick at all. With 4 planes arriving within 30 minutes of each other, the crush of incoming tourists caused an immense bottleneck at immigration. I spent over an hour in line, and another 30 minutes at customs. The delay caused me to miss Rucker, Sharon, Mark, and Chrissy who actually arrived on a later flight but got through customs faster. (More on that later!) By the time I found a ride to Negril, I had been at the airport for over 3 hours. Not gonna make the beach today, I'm afraid!


One for the road!

The drive from Montego Bay to Negril takes about an hour and a half, over a narrow winding road full of potholes and bad drivers. We stopped at a roadside bar (with a goat) for a Red Stripe beer. There are obviously no open container laws here - we grabbed our drinks and kept on going. When I finally arrived at Blue Cave Castle, it was raining. Sigh. I joined the Poseys and Souzas for warm hugs, lively conversation and cold drinks; we toasted Ralph and Mel who were unable to make it. We miss you, Ironman and Lady Iron!

Over peanut butter crackers, rum, and Diet Pepsi, I found out that the reason everyone made it through immigration and customs ahead of me involved speeding wheelchairs and big tips. All those handicapped tourists in wheelchairs - they're not handicapped at all! Who knew? And the peanut butter crackers were all there was for dinner because the hotel restaurant was closed due to the
waitress not showing up. Seriously. You can't make this shit up! But somehow Sharon used her Southern charm to get somebody to make us some dinner, and he even delivered. Fried chicken, rice and peas, and coleslaw never tasted so good! (And peas aren't what you know as peas - they're red beans.)

Tomorrow we will explore. And there will be pictures! Goodnight, mon!

Travel...it's always an adventure!

I’ve never been to Texas. But I’m here now- at the Dallas Fort Worth airport to be exact. Not exactly seeing the sights, but having an adventure just the same. If I were a gazillionaire, I could get afford a flight without an overnight layover. But I’m not, so I couldn’t. And the thought of paying for a hotel room for a few hours just didn’t work for me, so here I am in an airport lounge preparing to do a sleepover.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to be too bad, really. The chairs are comfy, the lights are dim, I have a blankie and pillow and warm socks. I’m sharing the lounge with a nice lady named Renee who works for the airlines and has been flying standby but hasn’t made it home yet.  She’s stuck here until morning too, and we’ve been sharing stories of travel and kids and life.

Did you know there are websites dedicated to sleeping in airports? Seriously. With lists of the best and worst airports for overnight stays, and tips and reviews and true stories. Check out www.sleepinginairports.net. Apparently I’m not the only cheap ass out there.

Hey, more company! We’ve now gained 2 army guys and a Marine. Some girls dropped their packs too but I don’t know where they wandered off to. There’s a stack of cots from the USO, and the Marine offered me his. It’s shaping up to be a party! Or would be if someone could get his game connected to the TV…then it would be Just Dance in this lounge! No luck – the USB port is behind the TV and short of taking it down off the wall there’s no way to connect. But wait...they’re not giving up yet! The Marine has turned his phone into a remote and is in control of the TV now. Here come the wheelchairs! Wheelchair races in the hall? Maybe!

That bitch on the intercom needs to shut up. Her announcement is getting on my last nerve! The earplugs will be coming out soon. By the time my flight leaves in the morning I will have heard her grating voice about 100 times. Oh joy there she goes again!

What goes on in the airport at night? So far they have installed a new TV and vacuumed. Exciting, right? Hey, in 20 minutes it will be tomorrow and then I will be in Jamaica today! Goodnight Texas!

Yellowstone or Bust! Reflections

Saturday, July 6, 2013. I always find the day after returning from vacation to be…difficult. It’s a comfort to be at home in familiar surroundings, but it’s disappointing not to be looking forward to new, exciting things each day. It’s nice to be able to shed the vacation routine of packing suitcases and loading up the van every morning, yet it’s wearisome to pick up my old routine, which now seems rather mundane. It’s good to be sleeping in my own bed, but I miss the camaraderie and foolishness that occurs when sharing a room with others. At mealtimes, it’s nice to be able to eat what I want, when I want, but I miss cooking for everyone and sitting around the table in a group discussing the day’s events and planning the next day’s adventures.

So today, I’m reflecting on the past two weeks and the amazing “Yellowstone or Bust” tour. It was a different sort of vacation than I’ve ever taken, involving three generations of three families and all the diversity that comes along with that type of situation. Was it trouble free? No, of course not. Would I do it again? Absolutely! Here are some random thoughts on what worked and what didn’t, and how it could be even better next time.

TRANSPORTATION

To transport seven people and their luggage, plus camping gear and food, we rented a 12-passenger van with the back seat removed. That gave us plenty of cargo space, in fact, we had much more space than we had anticipated. It may be a good thing that we weren’t aware of the extra room we would have because we would likely have just brought more stuff along! It was the perfect size for our group.

That said, we should not have rented a van sight unseen. There were a few problems with it, most notably the tires that were not suitable for a 3,000-mile trip over mountainous terrain. Two didn’t make the trip home, including one that blew out at 75 mph on Interstate 80! The brakes squealed the entire trip, there were assorted squeaks and rattles that could get really irksome when listening to them for hours at a time, and the back door was missing the mechanism that kept it from swinging wide and banging into the open

This is Carlton, your doorman.

front door if it wasn’t held all the time. One of the seatbelts didn’t work at all, and one worked only part-time.

On a lesser scale, it would have been nice to have had windows that opened for the back-seat passengers. The side windows only swung open from the bottom about an inch, which meant no photos could be taken without getting out of the van. And when wildlife is involved, that might be the only provocation needed for flight. Even a sliding door would have provided the ability to take pictures without leaving the vehicle. We would have liked to have cup holders in the back seats. A test drive prior to leaving would have alerted us that the step was too high for Deb and would require a stool.  But then, we wouldn’t have needed “Carlton the doorman” to open the door and put a cement block down every time we stopped!

Words to the wise: See the actual vehicle you will be renting in advance. And take a test drive. Seriously.

ACCOMODATIONS

For the record, KOAs rock! The cabins are all the same so we knew what to expect, the bathroom and showers are clean, and laundry facilities are available. Some have pools and miniature golf for the kids. Non-KOA facilities were a crap shoot. Custer State Park in South Dakota had the best cabins anywhere; Flagg Ranch in Moran, WY was a shock: no electricity, dirty bathrooms and showers, and a filthy sink to do dishes. The Hostel in Jackson, WY was clean and comfortable, but there were no cooking facilities so we had to eat out.

We actually waited too long to make reservations. If we had started earlier, every stay would have been at a KOA. We had originally thought we would tent camp part of the time, but on our first night out when it was hailing and raining all night, the cabins got everyone’s full support! And the logistics of tent set-up and tear-down adds at least an hour of work daily; frankly, we felt our time was better spent at other things.

Words to the wise: Book early. Book KOA.

FOOD

None of us went hungry, that’s for sure! We had a giant cooler for perishables, and Rubbermaid tubs for the other food. It was loosely organized by category: one tub was for breakfast foods and bread, one tub held mostly snacks, and one tub held food that wouldn’t be needed until dinnertime like canned goods and S’More ingredients.

Breakfasts usually consisted of cold cereal, Pop Tarts, granola bars, yogurt, sometimes PB & J, and fruit when we had it. A couple of times Dan treated us to hot breakfasts at a restaurant. We never cooked breakfast; we were always in too much of a hurry to get a fire going and wait for a hot meal. In hindsight, it wouldn’t have taken very long to scramble some eggs or make pancakes once in awhile, and I brought precooked bacon. But we always seemed to be in a rush in the morning to get going.

Lunches were eaten on the road. We’d find a likely picnic spot and pull out bread, lunchmeat, cheese, chips, peanut butter, and jelly. We also had some fruit cups, apples, homemade potato salad, and a few

Lunch on the road

Lunchables during the first part of the trip. I know sandwiches got boring, but when you’re on the move, there are just not a lot of other options. I’m going to watch for different, quick, and easily transportable lunch ideas for the next time. Pinterest?

Dinners were a mixed bag. If we were in a campground with time to cook, we’d make dinner. If it was late or we didn’t have cooking facilities, we would eat out. It was always a guess as to what type of heat source would be available. One campground didn’t have fire pits so we used propane. At another we burned charcoal. But Tim was good at getting a wood fire started fast so that is what we usually used for cooking. We didn’t stick to just hot dogs, although we did eat wieners a couple times. Some other meals were Italian Beef, brats, Polish sausage and fried potatoes with onions and peppers, ham and potato soup with cheesy bread, Rueben sandwiches, and

Polish Sausage & Fried Potatoes

chicken and rice casserole with garlic bread. I had fun putting some recipes together that were made with ingredients that could be purchased ahead and didn’t require refrigeration, or included precooked ingredients that kept well in the cooler until needed. Because I’m rather frugal, I wanted to purchase food at home, on sale, so we weren’t at the mercy of little overpriced stores in tourist towns. I enjoyed it when these recipes were well received, even by the kids. And we could put a meal on the table and have it all cleaned up more quickly – and much cheaper – than eating out.

For some reason, snacks were always necessary when driving! We had quite a few homemade cookies – Snickerdoodles, Oatmeal Raisin, Gingersnaps, Peanut Butter, and Scotcheroos. Goldfish crackers, licorice, cheese balls, and string cheese were other popular snack foods. Again, it was much cheaper to buy these things at home than on the road. In tourist areas, prices could be more than double what we pay at home.

Words to the wise: If you’re on a budget, plan ahead. Cook and bake before you go. Buy everything possible on sale at home. Purchase only the necessities like fruit, milk, bread and lettuce on the road.

ELECTRONICS

The quantity of electronic devices we had was insane! Computers, cell phones, I-Pod, Kindle, Mp3 players, cameras – all required power almost daily. Coordinating the usage of the few available outlets required a wild combination of cords strung overhead, snaking along the floor, across doorways, and through windows. Our stunned reactions when we discovered we wouldn’t have power for two days are rather funny in retrospect. But with a little creativity – power boxes at unused campsites, bathroom outlets - we made it. Unplugged? Not this group!

Words to the wise: Bring extension cords. With power strips or 3-way adapters. To avoid concussions, don’t drape power cords across doorways! LOL

CLOTHING

Try to pack light - there are laundry facilities available at most campgrounds. But it is difficult to know in advance what you are going to need when traveling to higher elevations that are traditionally cooler. For example, I packed three types of outfits: hot weather (tanks and shorts), intermediate weather (t-shirts and capris) and cold weather (jeans and long sleeved tees). As it was, northwestern Wyoming was having unseasonably hot weather so all I needed were tanks and shorts. Who knew?

Words to the wise: I have none. You’re going to bring what you want anyway. Just remember that you’re the one who is going to have to carry it all.

BLOGGING

I have mixed feelings about this. Obviously, I like to do it because you saw my daily posts. But it does take a whole lot of time. I stayed up late many nights just so I didn’t get behind. While I love having a real-time journal to capture my immediate thoughts and feelings, the time it takes detracts from other activities like sitting around the campfire and telling stories. Staying up too late left me tired the next day. So, I can’t decide. On my WIU ag trips, we kept copious notes and I wrote my journal after I got home. It left my nights free for fun and/or sleeping. Going this route works too, but then you must keep a notebook with you at all times to record everything. I’ve done it both ways, and I still can’t decide which I like best.

Words to the wise: Do what feels right for you. Blog, journal, whatever. But do record something! Those spontaneous thoughts and feelings will be forgotten in a few days or weeks, and by putting it into words you will be able to go back and recapture those moments for the rest of your life. Your grandchildren will thank you someday!

PLANNING AND PREPARATION

Some people are fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants kind of people. I’m not. I like to know in advance what I’m going to see and do. Fortunately, most of the rest of the group was that way too. Although no one had a ton of time to devote to research, each of us women had done a little bit. I had a wonderful guidebook about Yellowstone, and Gin had one for Grand Teton. These gave us directions, history and fun facts about what we were seeing and gave us ideas for what we might like to see. That said, don’t be afraid to slam on the brakes when something interesting like a cemetery catches your eye! Those moments when we struck out to find an obscure sight were a lot of fun. But it was ultimately the guidebooks and brochures that tipped us off.

Words to the wise: Do some reading beforehand. Buy a good guidebook. You’ll be mad if you get home and realize that you were only minutes away from something that’s on your bucket list. Read!

FUN

Ultimately, a vacation is about having fun. There were plenty of goofy moments when every one of us was acting like a silly kid. We photo bombed each other, and made snide remarks when others inadvertently bombed us or others. We made ridiculous Vines. Certain catchphrases made us giggle every time we heard them. (French Whore Campground. Wah! Have the convicts to do that! Quit touching my ball sac!) I humiliated the kids when I wore my mountain man pajamas in public. Yes, we had a lot of fun!

Words to the wise: Act stupid. That is all.

Photo bomb!

Mountain man jammies (with trapdoor) and a coonskin cap!

Check out my ball sac!

FINAL THOUGHTS

Not everyone would consider traveling with extended family like we did. It does require cooperation and patience on everyone’s part. But I think that what we gained by getting to know each other better, sharing the work load, and learning from each other far outweighed the few tense moments that occurred. All in all, it was a great experience!

Words to the wise: Just do it!

Yellowstone or Bust! Day 14

Friday, July 5, 2013. We awoke in North Platte, Nebraska on our last day of vacation. We had arrived late last night, so when we got on the road the change in scenery from previous days' was quite a surprise. Once again, I could see green – green grass, green fields, green trees. Though it didn’t look exactly like home, the countryside was starting to look a bit more familiar.

At 9:00 am sharp, we rolled into the parking lot of The Great Platte River Road Archway Monument. All of us that had passed this way before had seen the giant arch directly over I-80 just east of Kearney, Nebraska but had never fit it into our travel plans. We didn’t want to miss it this time.

The Great Platte River Road Archway Monument is a museum of the Platte River valley's role in westward expansion. To enter the museum, an escalator leads up and through a moving video display of the prairie and into a multi-media experience designed by a Disney team. Interactive displays and dioramas tell the stories of the exploration and settlement of the west. History unfolds before you in chronological order, from the white man’s first exploration to the pioneers in wagon trains struggling across this vast land; from the California Gold Rush to the overland stage coach; from the coming of the transcontinental railroad to the era of the highway and car travel along the Lincoln Highway, now I-80.

The displays are very professionally done and portray the stories so well you are taken back into the past. One of the most poignant scenes depicted the extreme difficulty of the wagon trail, as emigrants left their belongings by the side of the road to lighten their load and buried family members lost to accidents and disease. One of the most fun scenes portrays an early auto camp, as highways became an easy way for families to travel to see the wonders of the west. There are also windows facing directly over I-80, where you can watch traffic speed under the arch.

We were all happy we took the time to visit this fascinating museum. It was to be our last stop except for gas, food and bathroom breaks for the next 7 hours. Everyone passed the time in their own way; Gin read, Deb and I listened to audio books, Sierra and Dane had their electronic devices to play with, Deb also wrote a letter to the van rental company about our tire problems, Dane and I played some golf and disc golf on his I-Pod, and we all napped while the men drove. For long periods of time we were quiet, which prompted Deb to ask if we had finally run out of stuff to talk about!

Sleeping!

Who knows?

At Gin and Tim’s house we unloaded the van for the last time, and got everything sorted and back to its rightful owners. Hugs were shared all around, and we went our separate ways – back to our homes, our lives, our families. These past two weeks have given us many unforgettable memories and left us both exhilarated and exhausted.  But we are all immeasurably richer from the amazing experiences we shared on our “Yellowstone or Bust!” vacation.