Heading South in 2014

The trip began in the early hours of Sunday October 26. It began with a detour to the bank to deposit an unexpected cheque. As it turned out I made this run south just ahead of some rather wintry weather. I groaned at being hit by a gusting North wind as I walked across the lot to my motorhome. The young male customs officer was polite and efficient sending me on my way with a minimum of bother. Pennsylvania Welcome Centre was open and manned when I got there, Ohio’s was open but no one present to give the welcome.

When travelling from state to state or province to province there’s an art to understanding how far after the signpost to look for the turnoff you need to make. When highway speeds are high sometimes they don’t leave enough space to slow down in time. After missing it the first time I eventually found Cross Creek Campground in the middle of nowhere. No overnight frost this time round.

Made my way through Columbus, Ohio and Indianapolis for the 250 mile hop to Terre Haute. Wouldn’t you know a southerly cross wind to match yesterday’s northerly. The quiet parklike KOA there gave me warm welcome in all senses. A cicada buzzed in the trees above my head as darkness fell and the pet donkeys brayed.

Awoke to thunder, lightening and rain. After gassing up contended with ill-lit poorly marked wet streets and highways with worn out markings. I don’t like driving on wet pavement in the dark particularly when the road is not marked. The day didn’t so much dawn as the darkness lessened and the world slowly became apparent. The Dennys west of Chicago remains the only outlet to provide decent coffee. The one I stopped at this day was busy but the Wi-Fi worked. Gas prices remained high in the North.

Allow me to inveigh against idiots who leave highway construction signs up after the construction is finished or when they go home for the night or weekend. I think there should be hefty fines levied against the perpetrators. After the tenth or so such abuse no one takes them seriously. The owners of Tulsa Warrior Campground have been running it too long. I was somewhat peeved after making a supreme effort to arrive during office hours to discover they’d gone home early. At least they leave behind the code for Wi-Fi which I eventually got to work. The place has a rather casual business sense, their residential campers being their principal income. Driving 560 miles in one day may have used up my tolerance. After discovering there’d be no place to park gave up on playing tourist in Tulsa, I needed the rest anyway.

Since my acquaintances in Lubbock couldn’t be bothered to return my attempts at contact gave up on making that detour and drove down to Lewisville just north of Dallas Texas. I-35 is a horror of road construction, dust, and heavy traffic from one end to the other the section through Dallas and south to Austin being bad whatever time of day you travel. All it takes is one collision caused by drivers following too close to back it up for hours and attempting to leave sufficient breaking distance seems to require some moron to occupy it. Detest lane hoppers.

Stopped at the Texas Visitor’s Centre which was open and manned though under construction. I was not attracted to the monument to a youngish vet with rifle in hand outside. Such centres are rarely at the border in Texas. When my GPS informed me I’d reached the exit for Lewisville Lake Campground the construction signs informed me it was closed, permanently. Abandon GPS and use horse sense.

Camping at Lewisville Park is still $8/night for seniors though the list of 20 fineable offences in the handout tends to make one feel unwelcome. In spite of threatening clouds went for a walk. The improvised benches around the lake are a considerable distance from the water these days. The “no fishing” sign at the boat launch is at odds with Texas Best Bass Lake sign elsewhere. Interrupted a session of advanced petting on a rather public picnic table.

Next morning waited out rush hour traffic as a locked gate precludes an early start. To no avail due to a collision blocking 2 of 3 lanes. Didn’t make Austin until 1:30 PM. Driving anywhere in Austin is a pain.

Public Safety and Taxes

Written in response to a questionnaire sent at public expense by a Conservative Government Member:

I still dislike polls and questionnaires because I find them formulated to elicit the response the designer wished to obtain.

Of course I want safer streets but we may differ in our opinion as to the means of obtaining that end. Have you read Jane Jacobs? Our streets remain safe because neighbours use them: Children walk to school, their mothers wheel them to playgrounds, walk to the store, in cities couples walk to work, social events, theatre and use mass transit. In American cities and states where this has ceased to be so it is an offense to allow your child to walk to soccer practice. Children who are taxied everywhere grow up unable to navigate their own neighbourhoods. Parents cause unsafe traffic around school grounds not designed for the volumes that have developed and their children become overweight through lack of exercise. Our massed media are guilty of concentrating on violence and crime at a time when the demographic who commit such offences is at an all-time low along with the crime rate itself. This coverage has created a sense of apprehension that has lead police services to demand ever bigger budgets and politicians such as yourself to pass legislation that invades privacy and civil liberties in the name of protecting us from them.

Who wouldn’t want lower taxes. But remember the state of California where citizens were given that option and the state approached bankruptcy. Alas our politicians set a poor example with the likes of entitled examples such as Bev Oda and Mike Duffy, gold-plated pension plans, and patronage. Canada’s most profitable companies pay no taxes and their owners employ tax accountants to find means such as family trusts to avoid paying taxes. Their donations to political parties are directly deductible from tax paid. Someone miscalculated and tried to build a power station in these donor’s back yards. Most sensible businessmen disagree with the idea of government handouts to corporations but if their competition is capitalizing on one they have no option but to buy in as well. Remember ‘corporate welfare bums’. Meanwhile have you read the auditor general’s report lately. Do we really want to emulate the American model where the rich live in protected gated communities and send their children to private schools while public services shrink, schools deteriorate, and ordinary citizens cope with the likes of Detroit or St. Louis or entire subdivisions taken over by gangs as in Southern California?

To answer your questions I don’t believe your government’s policies are going to attain either ends.

Thoughts on the Civil War

As I travel the American South it becomes more and more apparent to me that to many the war occurred yesterday. In one fell swoop an agrarian way of life, a genteel culture, and an indolent upper class were Gone With the Wind. As the war dragged on it became apparent that the armament industry and the minerals that fed it were all located in the North and Naval Blockades prevented smuggling. What resources existed lacked efficient rail transport because the much-vaunted states rights guaranteed that every state operated on an incompatible gauge. Resistance to central command didn’t help but as the war of attrition continued the South ran out of lambs to send to the slaughter and an entire generation of their brightest and best were wiped out. Even without emancipation and the war the hand-writing was on the wall. Slave labour may have been free but it was inefficient compared to the mechanization of the Industrial Revolution and the Factory Farm. Even today Labour Laws in many Southern States would make Dickens cringe all over again. Unless you work in a White Union Shop you are not guaranteed a minimum wage, workers compensation, regular work hours, a five day week, overtime, or even payment of your wages. Breaks and drinking water in high heat conditions are not guaranteed. In most cases slaves were better treated. With the assassination of Lincoln a punitive reconstruction and system of reparations the likes of which led directly to WW#2 in Europe were instituted one manifestation of which were the despised carpet baggers.

Heading East in 2014

The tale begins with a trip to Kitchener, Ontario to get my sewer hose replaced. As I’ve written many times before I would need at least 5 lifetimes to understand dealerships. Seems I have to remind them to order the parts needed for the work I need done. They did replace my sewer line.

The trip began in earnest at 3:30 AM Tuesday June eleventh in the rain. I’d filled my gas tank the day before so I headed east on the 401 through the construction hazards that litter the top of Toronto.

Stopped in Napanee for breakfast at Dennys and visited an En Route somewhat later. Refilled my gas tank in Morrisburg just before crossing into Quebec where I stopped to pick up bumph at the Welcome Centre. Paid the $3.00 toll to cross the Saint Lawrence on the new bridge and took the newly finished HWY 30 south of Montreal to Camping Aloutte. Passing through the countryside the bucolic odour of newly spread manure permeated the air. Note to self, don’t waste good money on crummy internet service again. Had supper and went to bed.

The rain continued off and on as I drove the pot-holed roads of the Eastern Townships of Quebec. Quite a bit of truck traffic near Quebec City but it tailed off as I drove down the Saint Lawrence. It was the construction I hit just before Rivière-Du-Loup that was the coup de grace. Stopped in town for a feed of St Hubert’s Chicken and a fuel up before driving across the new finally completed bridge to Rue de L’Ancrage and Camping Du Quai. It’s pleasant to receive a warm welcome from my host if not the weatherman. After driving 650 miles in two days it was time for a rest. The weather finally cleared on Sunday making the walk out to the point a pleasant one.

Monday morning dropped by IGA Extra for a few groceries before striking out for Kouchibouguac National Park in New Brunswick. All but the last stretch of HWY 85 in PQ is complete but that last stretch is a doozy. Drove the temporary dirt road to visit the NB Welcome Centre which was actually open this time. Followed only a brief stretch of HWY 2 in NB before turning at Grand Falls for the drive through New Denmark and Paster Rock Game Reserve. The road through the reserve was pot-holed with broken shoulders a frequent occurrence. Fortunately I met only 15 vehicles in 200 miles. Once I reached HWY 11 South hit first a traffic light and then a train at the level crossing. Didn’t take long for 20 vehicles to get backed up.

Made the park just before the camping kiosk closed. Paid a brief visit to the Interpretive Centre before registering for my site. No probs there as the park was nearly empty. A walk over to the park store found a very bored looking clerk who sits and reads a Quebecois Romance Novel from 8 to 8. Little else open. The park is broadcasting a very strong Wi-Fi Signal but was not hooked up to any ISP, frustrating. In plentiful supply were millions of mosquitoes. Loads of rain, swamps, marshes and standing water make for ideal habitat. Keeping them out of my home proved impossible. What do you do when it rains all day? Read. When it finally stopped went for a walk on the nature trail and donated blood to the winged critters. I heard a ruffed grouse drumming and heard about deer and coyotes wandering the park. A fox walked by my RV and a groundhog resides under a nearby outbuilding. Rode over one morning to see the concession stand and walked out to watch the wet-suit-clad lifeguards in training. The 50º F water did not deter the children. Next day rode the trail system down to the interpretive centre, toured the displays and watched the introductory movie. One hundred and sixty-five families had their homes and livelihoods expropriated and destroyed to create the park. The gal at the desk and the one in the gift shop were both from displaced families.

Friday Morning, June 20 Set out for Nova Scotia. I had enough gas to make it to Sackville where I filled up before crossing into NS where it’s more expensive. Visited the NB Info Centre as well. Crossed into a drizzly NS and met the piper inside the NS Welcome Centre. No Halifax Chronicles on offer there. Got the info I needed and struck out for Masstown paying the Tollway fare on the way. Maple Syrup was in good supply as was honey. Picked up a loaf of raisin bread and fresh strawberries. Drove past the road to the Joudreys in HFX County before turning unto 101 for Falmouth. There I found an extension cord awaiting my hookup. Amy and Greg made it home later with his two daughters in tow, 18 and 15, the younger one has grown considerably in the last year. Saturday morning early a load of rock dust arrived which was wheeled into the pool enclosure where an above ground pool is to be installed. The day was spent dumping and later compacting the fill. Sunday was quiet and chore-filled though quiet was necessary as Greg took an overnight shift. Oscar and Jimmy, the dachshunds exercised my ears. I caught up on E-mail and cartoons after 6 days.

Monday Morning June 22 drove across HWY 14 in NS to 103 and thence to Lunenburg where I found an empty campground. After obtaining my site drove up and spent the day with my 96-year-old Aunt Muriel. Gossip, gossip, gossip. Tuesday drove up to Midville and stopped in to visit with my cousin Charles Smith and catch up on Midville Branch. Next visited the graveyard and walked up to find Milton Williams out. Learned the neighbour beside the cemetery is in hospital in HFX. Found Dan and Fred Gilbert home at the old Mailman place. Little is recognizable. The wood ticks are rampant. After giving a tour of my domain sat and had coffee and chat with Fred. Drove out past the old homestead on the Smith Rd and finding no place to stop drove through Cookville and back to Lunenburg. Walked out to the Top Knot for the recommended bacon-wrapped scallops with fries and a Propeller Bitter. A father and his two late teen sons sat beside me. Walked back along Bluenose Lane noting the forlorn vessel moored beside the fisheries Museum. Lacked the cash to get an ice cream so I walked over and picked up Pear Eau de Vie at Ironworks and raisin bread and sauerkraut at Foodland, no turnipkraut on offer. Settled in for the evening as the fog rolled in off the back harbour and the fog horn sounded.

Drove up to Halifax Wednesday Morning avoiding the Hammond’s Plain Road which read closed in any case due to construction. Made my sister’s just in time for Lunch. Got hooked up and got caught up online. Richard was working. On the only day it rained while I was there we drove out to the valley to visit the Annapolis Historical Gardens. It rained in torrents throughout our visit though the park offered good umbrellas on loan. I didn’t risk my camera in the wet. The days melted into one another. Richard did a second job Saturday Morning and in the evening we walked down for Strawberry Social at the United Church. Marguerite stayed to help with Cleanup. Seems they made $1306 on the day charging $12 each for ham, potato salad, and strawberry shortcake, coffee. Looked through Richard’s DVD collection and watched Leo a depressing unwanted child tale I’d not heard of before and Aurora Borealis with Donald Sutherland and Joshua Jackson. Albuquerque, one of four oaters proved predictable and standard western fare. After church Sunday we drove into Dartmouth for a feed of Clams and Chips. Fisherman’s Cove was crawling with traffic so we drove back home. On Tuesday visited Bedford having no luck finding a lighting fixture for my van. Did get Richard Wolf Hall at Chapters, he loaned me Bring up the Bodies. Richard was able to replace the light switch in my bathroom fixture for which I’m eternally grateful. And I washed my van and Richard and I polished it. On Wednesday drove up to Wilson’s and filled my tank for the first time in Nova Scotia, the price came down the previous Thursday Night. Shopped for a few essentials at Sobeys across the street. Shortly after getting home learned that Stanfest was canceled due to the approach of Hurricane Arthur. Decided to drive up to Saint John Thursday Morning before the wind could pick up.

Stopped twice along the way at RV Dealers with no luck finding lighting fixtures. I did see a 40-foot fifth wheel with working fireplace. Stopped at Masstown for more syrup and a few other bits and pieces. Drove HWY2 past Dieppe and Moncton encountering some crosswinds and turned south on HWY 1 to Saint John. The sarcastic old Quebecois Gatekeeper at Rockwood Park asked again, ‘Why would you want to spend a week in Saint John?’ Tom wasn’t home when I drove past. Set up backing onto young evergreens on the side bank opposite the washrooms in Site 106 finding it a bit downhill but hooked up my landline and settled in. In the fog and rain Wi-Fi can be dodgy and the electrical wires block the signal.

Came to Saint John to visit with my friend Tom and for two weeks we shared time together. Had him over for a multi-course spread on Friday night. On Saturday around 4:30 AM got the first tendrils of rain from Arthur and torrential rain sluicing down my windows by 6:00. Around 8 the wind started picking up rocking my RV less than gently by mid afternoon. By 6:00 that evening it was all over. Elsewhere 290,000 homes and businesses lost power as far as Fredericton and throughout NS and PEI. Hart Isle Resort in Fredericton was flooded and three RV’s and a car were swallowed by a sink hole. Sunday morning I walked to church in sunshine noting the fallen leaves, twigs and a tree at one point. Ten for worship with coffee after.

Highlights of two weeks in Saint John:

Seeing my friend’s new apartment.
Eating out at Mother Natures, Subway, and Vitos
Compline at Trinity Anglican Cathedral
Worship at Loch Lomond Senior Centre
Tuesday Night Historical Walk with David Goss
Wednesday Noontime Concerts
Harbour Walking Tour to Reversing Falls
Exploring Rockwood Park and Hilly Saint John
Backyard BBQ
Britt’s Pub Theological Discussion


On Wednesday arranged to move to a site where I could access a sewage line. Filled my interior 40L water tank while I was at it and got resettled. Thursday. Didn’t feel like doing anything and took my time getting off. Didn’t feel like driving in heavy fog anyway. The fog followed me all the way to Woodstock, NB where I stopped for fuel. With a rest stop of sorts at the Quebec border drove on to IGA in the Loup. Got a few essentials and a six-pack of Sleemans Cream Ale. Local Quebec Strawberries were almost the size of the wild variety. Stopped for a feed of Saint Hubert’s Chicken after emptying my milk container to make room. Got my usual site at Camping Du Quai. The kids were on duty now that school’s out. Liked the lad but the gal signed me in. Wi-Fi remained poor but I managed and wasn’t up to much Friday as I stayed over. Didn’t stray far. A noisy crew moved in Thursday night but left Friday Morning as I lazed in bed.

Somehow I forgot to change time zones and didn’t discover my mistake until I tried to visit St Hubert’s in Lèvis at 11:35 by my time keeping. They open at 11 EDST. Oh well. Watched a very red sun rise Saturday morning in what felt like the West, I do get turned around. Driving up the Saint Lawrence is a journey to the South-West. Got off around 9:00. No fog and no wind for which I should be thankful. Just a 300 mile drive on Quebec Highways that could be better. Not so much truck traffic Saturday Morning west of Quebec but more ‘Sunday Drivers’. Podcasts relieved the monotony. Gas in Drummondville was 3¢ cheaper than the fill-up I got at the retarded pump in Lèvis. Oh well.

Camping Aloutte saw me stuck beside a 3-generational family grouping nearing 20 with a petit garçon with his belly hanging prominently over his trunks and a butt crack smiling above the band at his rear. At least the A/C covered the racket. Opera on CBC. Toward evening walked up over the hill for the first time to see the extent of this campground. Should have had my camera as I had an excellent view of the ‘mountain’ to the south of HWY 20 whose noise followed even to the nature trail-woods road I found eventually at the back of the site. The insects drove me home again. The rear section extends to 400+ sites including group camping and is mainly residential seasonal camping. I needed the exercise.

Got off slowly again Sunday Morning though this time was off by 7:30. Most of HWY 30 and in particular the bridge across the Saint Lawrence is not in my GPS so it had kittens when I crossed the water. Had just enough cash for the toll booth. Stopped at the Ontario Border to visit the new En Route/Welcome Centre. Picked up a pile of Provincial Park info. Had brunch at the Lancaster Denny’s in part to read the comix. Their Wi-Fi was still in my tablet, my server was a ditz but I wasn’t in a hurry and the food arrived eventually. Had to ask for a coffee refill and it was scalding hot, almost boiling. Gassed up in Napanee and natch found cheaper gas later. Encountered a light shower in Kingston providing an extra reason to slow down beyond their proclivities for speed traps. Stop and go trom Thickson Rd until the highway expanded to 6 lanes before the collectors. Thundershowers around HWY 400 bunched traffic somewhat but I made it home unscathed by 4:30 traffic adding an hour to the journey. Always good that my passkey still opens the door.

Kouchibouguac National Park

The first thing that will impress you about this place is its sheer size. When you finally reach the visitor’s centre realize that you are 7 miles from the campground and the shoreline. The fact that there are 40 miles of biking trails trips lightly off the tongue until you start walking them, bring a bike and realize that mosquitoes and black flies do not require that you sign a blood donor card and come prepared. There are also several miles of board walks and at least 12 miles of nature trails. There are miles upon miles of beach among the sand dunes which are also home to the endangered Piping Plover and scores of shore birds. Don’t be surprised if a bear walks past your site or you see a coyote. Watch your pets.

The organized campground has electrical hook-ups and even Wi-Fi when it’s working but it also has bike to, hike to, or even ski to winter camping. There’s a campground store, food concessions, and rental concession. New are rental cabins and even rental camping gear. In season there’s a full interpretive program in both official languages.

An evening spring hike along the nature trail revealed Bunch Berries, Clintonia, Star Flower, Sweet Clover, Purple Violet, Canada Mayflowers, Pussytoes; Bracken, Sensitive, and Fiddlehead Ferns; a drumming Ruff Grouse, Wood Thrush, a Varying Hare, several woodpeckers, and a couple gurgling brooks. Which of the 70-some species of mosquitoes were droning around my head did not particularly interest me.

The groundhog living under one of the service buildings did not seem perturbed to have me get within 10 feet of him. With woodland, riverine, meadow, grassland, wetland, and shoreline habitat this is a birder’s paradise. Sit yourself down and let the birds come to you. Or book a trip in the voyager canoe.

Lord of the Rings

The ability to use stop action and frame by frame forwarding on DVD has allowed viewers to catch many goofs and losses of continuity in motions pictures both present and past. Tech people who end up onscreen. Motor cars that appear in period pieces, broken bones that shift limbs, clothing that is alternately wet and dirty, clean and dry.

In Lord of the Rings we get to see dramatically the way in which gunpowder made castle battlements obsolete. No longer could rebel nobles hide behind their walls and defy their kings.

Two items relating to Saruman and his Wizard’s Tower Orthanc have troubled me. When Gandalf is lifted by wizardry to the platform atop the tower he appears to have been transported right through solid stone. No stairs or openings lead to it. Saruman stands there to curse the travelers on the mountain top and on other occasions. In his final scene Grima Wormtongue joins him there.

In that same scene Saruman talks of the rings of the seven kings and five wizard’s staffs. Was this a scripting error? There were 9 Nazgul. We know of only 2 wizards in the books. I’ve never quite figured out where Aragon’s Ring of Barahir fits in the scheme of things, seemingly it has no magical powers. Further the third elven ring appears to be worn by Gandalf leaving Galadriel’s husband without one. Is Elrond a wizard, don’t remember seeing him with a staff.

Gandalf seems to go through a number of wizard’s staffs. He loses the original one to Saruman in Orthanc. Has another when he appears at Rivendell. Loses another in Moria. Has his staff broken in the movie by the Witch King of Angmar in Minas Tirith but appears shortly afterward with an identical one outside the Black Gate.

Paradigm Shift

Time was when an unruly child was sent to his/her room or grounded as fitting punishment. Today a more fitting discipline would be to be deprived of all their electronic devices and sent outside to play. A child’s bedroom used to be for sleeping accompanied by teddy bears and dolls. Today it contains a flat screen TV, sophisticated game controllers and remotes; fancy sound systems, tablets, computer systems, smart phones; DVD players, MP3 players, fancy head phones, even virtual reality helmets. Hence the phenomenon of Parents texting their kids that a meal is ready as the only means of making contact with a child totally wired into their devices.

It is ironic that in a world where people are in constant online contact actual human contact is becoming an endangered species. Hanging at the mall has been replaced by online chatrooms and Facebook. In this digital arena it is possible to have thousands of online friends from all over the world that one has never met, never will meet, and of whom you have no idea what they look like or if they actually are the person they claim to be. Cyber bullying has become a new catch-phrase and can be as emotionally damaging as the physical variety.

There’s a price to be paid for all this electronic interaction. Beyond the impossibility of socially interacting with thousands of individuals the lack of physical interaction is alienating. The irony of the situation is that persons with thousands of online friends are lonely. All this electronic ‘activity’ leads to a sedentary lifestyle that results in obesity. The psychological effects of violent electronic games is still under study; what has definitely changed is the desire for instant gratification. Online gaming is instantaneous. Whereas a game of chess by mail with a pen pal could take years online it can be over in minutes.

This addiction to electronic devices has had a definite social cost. Whereas my Father preferred to get in his truck and drive to talk with his friends rather than use a phone today people who are in the same room text one another. Online service providers and cell phone networks are capitalizing on this addiction. The anonymity provided by electronics has become a goldmine for the providers of pornography of all kinds. Even prelates succumb to its dubious charms.

Bemoaning the State of Chapters Book

Recently paid a visit to Chapters Book in Oakville. Can I be forgiven
for thinking that books should be front and centre in a bookstore rather
than a pile of gift crap. I don't go to a bookstore to buy candles and
cookware. As a serious reader I arrive with a list in hand of the books
I wish to find. I do not come principally to browse book covers and the
latest best-sellers though I may glance at them in passing. I do
appreciate finding books in alphabetical order by author and I deplore
the Blockbuster Video approach to placing books they wish to highlight
in favourable positions on the shelf out of order so they show up
better. We all know what happened to Blockbuster. It would seem by the
books featured on the back wall that Young Adult books are a priority.
Most of the titles don't interest me. Didn't know what Manga is and not
sure I needed to learn that it's Japanese Graphic Novels.

The coffeeshop is long gone as are the comfortable chairs where one
could sit and get acquainted with a book. Gone too are the tables. The
computers for accessing the catalogue are new but the interface is as
slow as ever. I stopped visiting here regularly when Heather took over
and banned EYE and NOW along with the Montreal Review of Books from her
stores. I used to drop in weekly to pick them up and buy a book or two
while I was there but no longer. When she banned Mein Kampf from her
stores I decided to download and read it just to see what the fuss was
about. By this action I was introduced to Gutenberg Books.

I suppose my main complaint is the fact that the place is no longer
inviting to bibliophiles. I realize that a bookstore has to make money
to survive but I find this crass commercialism repellant rather than
welcoming and inviting. When I enter a bookstore I want to smell paper
and ink not scented candles, bath salts, and kitchen spice.

May Days Rant

Because my Mother was encouraged to use formula rather than breast feed I was probably predisposed to develop allergies. The sugar and salt unnecessarily added to baby foods sets our palettes to desire sweet and salty foods. The fact that I grew up on the East Coast with soft water means my teeth are softer and the prevalence of Gold in the rocks there also means there’s arsenic in the water. The fact that I now live in a concrete building exposes me to more background radiation and the ‘city’ I live in exposes me to more background noise and pollution.

Every time we turn around we read of another food source that is good for us or bad for us. Can anyone drink enough green tea, eat enough oatmeal, blueberries, or drink enough water to stay healthy. Sitting too long is bad for us, milk, coffee, bread, salt, and now sugar are the great no, nos. The same people who rail against frankenfoods probably drink bottled water in plastic, a major source of dioxins. They also probably complain about the price of gasoline while paying even more for that filtered tap water that has sat who knows how long in a warehouse.

Life is a fatal disease. We all die from it. Our planet is slowly or rapidly dying because there are too many of us. Worry is bad for our health just as is having a high BMI. So let’s take all things in moderation, take that morning walk though not too early if you have allergies, sit for a while and meditate, breath deeply for at least 5 minutes, and take that afternoon nap. It isn’t afternoon yet but I believe I’ll go back to bed and read the comix. Laughter is good for the soul.

Home Stretch

On Wednesday April Ninth slept in until 6:30, guess I needed the rest. Pays to be alert. Starting out later put me in Des Moines during rush hour and I followed my GPS which took me through the middle of it rather than north along the bypass. Fortunately the slow down lasted only four onramps. By the time I reached Iowa City rush hour had passed so all not lost. I started out driving into the rising sun. Fortunately cross-winds were never a factor today.

Stopped just west of La Salle Illinois for Gas, $3.659, then in La Salle for Breakfast at Dennys. Finally a Dennys that makes good coffee--it only took 6 years and 50 states and 10 provinces to find one. No free internet there though so I still haven’t read today’s comix. The day was filled with the usual left lane hogs and truck traffic increased exponentially as I approached Chicago. Nothing worse on a two lane uphill grade than one tractor trailer attempting to pass another. There’s still a $1.10 toll on the highway south of Chicago. It’s finding 10¢ that annoys. Stopped at the Chicago Illinois Tourist Bureau located in an overhead tunnel across the highway. On every other occasion when I passed I was in the wrong lane and couldn’t reach it--I didn’t miss anything. The place isn’t even manned. A collision on I-80 backed traffic for miles so I got off at the Indiana Tourist Bureau. Michigan City does not share info with them. Took a broken narrow winding service road to bypass the highway blockage.  

 Sunset at Michigan City

Michigan City Campground has a new gate system out by the road. Had to call in to get to the office to sign in. Found the manager washing and ironing cabin curtains. The dog who usually welcomes me is south with its vacationing owners, who own the campground. Aside from the staff burning leaves things are fine. I saw snow in a ditch today but it’s 59 here at quarter to six with a predicted low of 42 tonight. I came 400 miles today placing me 400 miles from home, customs permitting.

Decided to stay over until Monday in part due to predicted bad weather. Spring has not arrived here, there are a few robins and the crocuses came out but no spring flowers or expanding tree buds. Got up before Dawn on Friday and found the stars out and crunchy frost on the grass. At 4:00 AM the cockerel on the farm next door was crowing away. Who knew, the sun was out when I woke again and the sky a cerulean blue. 

View from the Lighthouse 

The Lift Bridge in Action

On Saturday drove up to the shore of Lake Michigan in Michigan City. Back in the day the Barker Factory employed 3000 to produce Pullman Train Cars and welded box cars. Nothing of that massive plant survives today and Barker Mansion is closed weekends. I did have a tour of the Lighthouse Museum but enjoyed my talk with the volunteer even more. Had a well-hopped ale at the Shoreline Brewery and enjoyed a pub sandwich. Even at noon drunks sure are loud. The steakhouse up the street is called Swing Belly. The area could best be described as grotty. The Michigan City SWAT Team drive a black Humvee. A major outlet mall is located on the west side of town but downtown is in severe decline and even the mall south of town is largely boarded up. Election signs vie with for sale signs. Lake is running for Judge, Ott for sherif--related to Ott’s Funeral Home? No word on dogcatcher. Ballots here run to thirty-some pages.

The campground gets free copies of the local paper. For the record there are 31,000 people in Michigan City, Indiana. Once you pull out all the advertisements there are 20 pages of New Dispatch in 4 sections at 5¢/page. News, Sports, Classified, and Health. A page of comix and the obits on page 2 along with fire and police calls. Seems the fire department have been very busy lately. The Sports section of course covers local teams. The Catholic High School has a golf team?

Meteorology is still more voodoo than science. Saturday evening a predicted cold front was to bring severe weather--winds, thunder and large hail. Sunday Morning there was still no sign of it though areas in the south-west got tornadoes. Since the bad weather didn’t arrive decided I had no excuse for not going to church so I drove up around 7:00 AM and found a parking space to read the comix and the newspapers I’d picked up. The ringing of church bells disturbed my reverie.

I got the full monte this morning. I sat up top but we had the procession with palm leaves from the basement with the Palm Sunday Lesson, then the four lessons for Passion Sunday with sung Psalm and readers along the outside aisles for the five page printed Gospel. No sermon. We used Lift High the Cross for the processional and My Song is Love Unknown for the second hymn put with the wrong tune in the cranberry book. The church is a traditional nave soaring 5 storeys without transepts with wall-painted Jesus cradling lamb on one side and praying in Gethsemane on the other. An extremely baroque high altar soars 2 storeys. Simple narrow stained glass windows with pipe organ and choir in the balcony. Shorter gray-haired pastor. Twenty-page ledger paper folded bulletin with 8x11 folded insert with announcements. They have service 5 on Saturday, 8-traditional and 10:15 with guitars Sunday. They operate a men’s shelter 20 guests and soup kitchen feeding 69. Went down for coffee and sat and talked. After we helped ourselves to bread brought in for the homeless from a local bakery. I left with a hearty 6-grain round loaf.

Drove down and found the two items I needed at Meijers a massive emporium not unlike Wal-Mart. The liquid toothpaste and pineapple preserves were at polar opposite ends of the store. Rather than stand in line I braved the auto-scanner. We both survived the experience. Then drove down and waited in line for gas at Swift. They have four pumps in line in 3 rows. With people waiting, idiots leave their car at the pump to go shopping. At least I leave tomorrow with a full tank, still $3.519. Imagine thinking that’s cheap. My first fill-up in America was $3.57 in upstate NY back in October 2008. It’s gotten as low as $1.89 in Texas.

The first in a band of showers woke me from my afternoon nap. The temperature dropped from the morning’s low of 72 to 55 and remained there.

Monday morning waited until the worst of the gusting winds eased before starting out around 7:30. Promptly lost an hour crossing into the Eastern Time Zone 30 miles later. Spent most of the day dodging potholes and gusting crosswinds and got lost amid confusing ill-marked construction finding the Bluewater Bridge in Port Huron, Michigan. Remember I’d already drive 200 miles at that point. Stopped at Denny’s in Kalamazoo for brunch and to read the day’s comix. Actually read those before I set out. Kalamazoo does not know how to make coffee but the rest was good.

The young man at customs was kind, thanks for your prayers. Filled up in Emmett, Michigan for $3.699/gal before crossing into Canada. Got an assist from the wind today. Saw snow in shaded ditches along the road in Ontario and expect to see more on the ground in the next 24 hours here. The damage an ice storm did our trees has not yet been cleaned up here. My parking spot was open, big sigh.

Got in around 4:00 and first order of business was visiting with the neighbours who have cared for my apartment and mail in my absence.

I’m having a coffee to find sufficient energy to go to sleep. At least it will be in my own bed and the wind will not be rocking me tonight nor will the rain patter on my roof.

Week Three on the Road

I have visited Salt Lake City twice now and despite camping less than ten miles from the Great Salt Lake both times I have yet to lay eyes on it. Mind you the fact that it was frozen solid each time may have been a factor. Come Monday Morning March 31st a blizzard had closed I-80 east of me and later black ice figured in the highway reports so for the second time I stayed over in Salt Lake another day. The weather looked so innocent in the city but....

Tuesday morning I set out to drive 450 miles East on I-80. Started out with snow flying in Salt Lake City at 6:00 AM. Interstate 80 is a city block from the park. A bit South and then East entering Parleys Canyon. It is one of the ironies of travel that before you start climbing mountains you generally begin by going downhill. Even had it been light the fog and snow obscured the snow-capped peaks I’ve gazed at the last three days. I was amused to note that on a six-lane divided highway a sign announcing passing lane ahead remains from the days when this was a two-lane road.

Plenty of white stuff around today in the air and banked beside the road but although the road was often wet it was not particularly slippery and I encountered only a couple gusts of cross wind. Stopped at Green River, Wyoming for breakfast at Little America Travel Centre. Essentially a truck stop with delusions of grandeur located 20 miles from the nearest town it seems they provide bus service for staff from town. Seventeen trucker showers, motel, store, boutique and children’s play area. Their coffee was serviceable, breakfast was uninspired, the toast drowned in ‘butter?’. Someday a waitress will actually listen to the customer, but not today. The free Wi-Fi was so slow my cartoons never did download. I balked at paying $3.599 for gas and stopped 20 miles later at the same price.

The sanders were out and a snow plough was working the centre lane. LED Signs flash the advised speed limit. Signs whose lights would flash and barrier gates are in place to close the highway. It was closed Sunday Night. Except for the pass out of Salt Lake most of the other heights of land were not precipitous though the pass west of Cheyenne tops out at 8640 ft. This section of I-80 boasts the longest straight stretch at 80 miles anywhere in the Interstate System. So miles of monotonous driving requiring hyper-vigilance.

Filled up at the Pilot Gas Station at the corner when I got to Cheyenne Wyoming at $3.459. They’re too cheap to provide drivers traveling on sanded and salted roads with antifreeze for their squeegees. $75 to stay here two nights on a gravel parking lot with hookups. Trees are in short supply in Wyoming. The weather forecast for Cheyenne claimed mainly sunny. Obviously whoever wrote that wasn’t looking out a window here. It hailed. Well it was April Fools Day. 

Had never driven the stretch of road I traveled today and still haven’t seen it. The Green River Tunnel despite its length didn’t even interrupt my GPS Signal. This isn’t a part of the world noted for scenery though Yellowstone and Grand Teton are just 150 miles to the north. Thirty Degrees F at the coldest this day but 47 in Cheyenne. Despite the hale and thunder the ‘kid’ two spots over was wandering around in a T-shirt. After driving 450 miles stayed over a day before striking out on the next leg.

When I drove through the mountains Tuesday fog obscured the view, this Thursday April 3 was clear but there was nothing to see. Wyoming for some reason thinks one should not use cruise control when the roads are wet. Were that the case why would anyone on the East or West coast buy it? Nebraska seems to think it important you know how far til the next exit each time they sign an interchange. The highway today was steadily downhill and straight varying no more than 10º from 90 East. Unfortunately the wind was at cross-purposes and tried to blow me off the highway all day. Had there been somewhere to stop and camp I would have.

Stopped in Ogallala at Dennys for brunch and to read the days’ comix. At least they downloaded to my tablet today. In Nebraska eggs are not accompanied by hot sauce. My eggs must have been pullet-sized and the Grand Slam pancakes were small. Coffee is consistently bad but I keep trying. Gasoline prices remain high. Two hours into today’s drive I crossed into Central Standard Time again. On the way passed Cabelais and its sporting goods catalogue centre and Osh Kosh home of the children’s clothing firm. 

My campsite at Camp-A-Way in Lincoln, Nebraska is situate east of the airport between two major highways. The site lacks a backstop to prevent one from backing into a ditch and the power station is at the extreme end of my cable length. Who designs these places? A robin sat on the bicycle seat outside my window Friday morning looking very cold as it was only 36º F. Wind warning today in Iowa East of me and gusts to 50 in Southern Ontario. Could someone hurry Spring along?

Stayed over until Monday Morning in Lincoln Nebraska because I felt the need to recuperate after driving 900 miles. On Saturday morning the thermometer dipped to 24 overnight and my coffeemaker took a long time heating the water I’d placed in it the night before for auto-start. The sun came out and it did warm up, crocuses are in bloom and there’s been an explosion of Robins about. Walked up to the corner to have a look at the Mega-Church across the way. Originally Baptist this independent boasts a Christian School as well. Not my cup of bread and wine. 

Unfortunately neither was Spirit of Hope Lutheran to which I walked Sunday Morning. Getting there I walked past University of Nebraska’s Tech Research Centre, the local Police/Fire/Ambulance Centre and numerous commercial outlets. Spirit of Hope Lutheran Church worships in a a mall complex that includes a mix of doctors offices, fast food outlets--Down the Hatch Bar anyone--all located in matching free-standing buildings. The space was built for a charismatic pentecostal/baptist sect and the only change made was the removal of the baptistery. Members of Evangel Pentecostal Church in Oakville would not feel out of place here. There are Bibles but no hymnals, the words for everything are projected on two screens and the wall behind the congregation, a piano, guitars, and drum kit lead singing with three woman on mike standing in front of the congregation. I’d never heard of any of the hymns and their theology would not be out of place in any Pentecostal Assembly Church. The liturgy would have been more familiar to one of the Methodist or United Church Tradition though there were elements of the Lutheran Book of Worship. There was a single lesson that did not follow the received pericope. They had candles and an eternal flame and an unlit Christ Candle, altar, pulpit little used, paraments and single banner. The pastor wore street clothes and officiates at two services a Sunday. His message was a commentary on Jesus’ Trial before Pilot. We used the Nicene Creed and the King James Version of the Lord’s Prayer. A special sung version of the words of institution was used, wafers were intincted in grape juice. A mission congregation worshiping in this space for three years it has reached the point of self-sufficiency. I found it strange to be unable to sing a single one of the songs used in the service.

Monday Morning April 7 woke at 4:30 AM and set out. The existence of a web page and even a sales flyer is no guarantee the store actually exists and this isn’t the first time this has happened to me. Gave up and drove up to I-80. Saw a Hi-Vee in Omaha from the highway too late to slow down to make the exit and I wasn’t driving back. Omaha’s a big city. Crossed the Missouri on the way in. Made KOA Des Moines West before 9:00 AM. Found a campsite and set up. My hosts actually opened at 9 and didn’t fuss about my early arrival. Read a notice recently that charged by the hour for arrival before 2 and another charging by the hour for not checking out on time. Well, I definitely beat the wind which in this part of the world seems to be a prevailing Northerly. The wife here is from Victoria BC and has never seen the gardens. She was a Navy Brat whose father never went to sea but served in the North, Victoria and Newfoundland. Whether or not I drive down to Winterset a nap is first order of business. Internet speed was 1.5 MB for the entire park. Reading E-mail was a slow process. 

Enjoyed a 2½ hr midday nap. Then decided to take that drive to Winterset 16 miles distant. This is the part of the country where the lads are termed cornfed. The town is surrounded by cornfields growing on beautiful black loam. In my travels I saw irrigation lines being installed in the fields. Town square surrounds the county court house. First searched out the unmarked tourist office and then an angled parking space--no meters. In getting turned around stopped for gas $3.399 at Kum & Go. Lucked out in a space in front of the Chamber of Commerce. Picked up some bumph and a map.

Wouldn’t you know, in honour of the fact that I was driving North and South the wind today was gusting from the West. The volunteer fire department was busy. First the fire I saw north of town on my way down must have gotten out of hand and needed dousing. Then a light rain turned the road slick and caused a multi-car pile-up. I passed 5 ambulances, fire truck and police on my way out of town.

If you’ve seen the movie The Bridges of Madison County and/or read Robert Waller’s book then you’re aware of the covered bridges but did you know they are in and around the County Seat of Winterset named for a geological formation of Limestone? A town surrounded on all sides by corn fields. Did you also know that it was home to this corn-fed lad pictured here at 23:

Name of Marion Morrison. Dated from 1930. Life-sized cardboard cutout in his green beret uniform.  They named main street after his stage name and are in the process of building a major museum in his honour just north of Town Square. His birthplace is a simple affair with a visitor’s centre next door selling memorabilia and showing his movies on a big screen TV along with a donated large collection of wall-hanging plates.

If you go to see all the bridges expect winding, hilly, washboard dirt roads and plenty of dust. Only one of the bridges still serves its original purpose.

 

Before I left town visited Fareway Grocery a place I wish I shopped on a weekly basis. Grocery boys and check out girls, even the men at the meat counter dressed in matching black pants, white shirts and black ties! Good selection for a store serving a town of 5000 and everything fresh. Local products and produce highlighted. In store bakery sold iced raisin bread and cinnamon bread. The meat department was butcher-served, nothing was pre-packaged. And, a grocery boy wheeled my cart out to the car and waited while I unloaded to take it back inside the store. Good prices despite the level of service.

Week Two to Salt Lake

My drive on Saturday March 29th was all a traveler could want. Utah drivers still tend to be left-lane hogs and drive erratically but traffic was light today until I reached the Salt Lake area.

I started out around 6:15 just as dawn was breaking and drove up through the red rocks that mark the ravine in which Moab, Arches, and Canyonlands are located. Once at the plateau above the earth becomes ochre with an overlay of straw-coloured dead grass. As one drives north the solid wall of gray rock that is the Colorado Plateau rises to the north looming vertically ever closer until the turning at its base to go west on I-70. At Green River the route to Salt Lake turns North on Utah 191 a 4-lane highway with level intersections. A sign warning of no services for 100 miles strikes an ominous tone. Eventually the highway rises onto the plateau above on a patch of road that looks like a waterfall streaming off the heights above. As one drives along the snow-capped mountains to the North loom ever higher and higher. The highway follows a valley between two towering plateaus. I stopped at Wellington for fuel as the price seemed right and I used up a lot of fuel yesterday driving around Canyonlands.

At Helper the mountains ahead rise in a seeming unbroken wall towering overhead. Plumes of steam rise from the mines and a large hoarding reads:

COAL = JOBS

After Helper the road takes a left turn to HWY 6 and enters a previously unseen ravine with a solid wall of light gray rock on the left-side and the familiar red sandstone on the right. Hats off to the surveyors who found this pass and charted the route through these canyons and ravines. There are few precipitous rises and only one major switchback though the busy railway line that parallels the highway takes a more circuitous route. The town below derives its name from the helper locomotives that pushed trains to the summit. On an open plateau half-way up sits a ranch and the summit itself is an open meadow. A month makes a great deal of difference. I last drove this stretch in February with snow banks lining the road and the temperature dropping to 9 above. Although the temperature dropped below freezing as I gained elevation and the squeegees at the gas station were surrounded by ice by the time I reached the summit it was a balmy 42 above.

At Spanish Fork I-15 joins 6 south of Provo. The stretch of highway I’d just driven is rated one of the most dangerous in America. Today it seemed fairly innocuous though it is novel coming down to be passing a truck with a foot   firmly on the brake pedal. The valley between Utah Lake and Salt Lake which lies between two mountain ranges acts as a wind tunnel so I was thankful to arrive around 11 before the wind got too strong. After the other mountain routes I’ve since driven this one doesn’t seem so intimidating any more though it is rated as one of Americas most dangerous highways.

Wonderful after 5 years to find the Salt Lake City KOA still unchanged. Unlike last time I did not get lost finding it. It’s all in knowing how to work your GPS. Streets near Temple Square have N and S, E and W designations that make navigation confusing. The staff here are polite, efficient, and eminently helpful, a refreshing change.

Temple Square Volunteers run a van service from the local airport that stops at the campground and took I and others in to witness Music and the Spoken Word Sunday Morning. Nothing can compare with seeing 360 choir members, full orchestra, organist, and today 30 handbell ringers performing live at 8:30 in the morning. Dedicated in 1870 the Tabernacle boasts perfect acoustics and its pipe organ claims nearly 12,000 pipes. Added since my last visit is a massive boom web cam counterbalanced with 650 pounds of weights. Not sure what the orchestra thinks of having it zoom over their heads barely missing their conductor.

Windy but balmy this morning when the shuttle picked us up for the drive into Temple Square. We arrived to find the choir rehearsing. Always fun to see what goes on behind the scenes. The 180 women of the choir were dressed in purple, the men in black suits with white shirts and black ties. With a nearly full house and the A/C not turned on choir members were fanning themselves. Mack Wilberg conducts a large orchestra--8 cellos, 4 double basses and today a 30-strong handbell choir wearing black gloves an octave lower than I’m accustomed to seeing with bells big enough to require two hands. The handbells played Kingsfold, one of the tunes to which we sing the Twenty-Third Psalm. While the 500 musicians went out to freshen up we were given a talk. Just before the concert went live to air a make-up person walked up and combed organist Andrew Unsworth’s hair without his paying any notice. Choir members must audition and live within 100 miles of Temple Square, (it used to be 50), be at least 25 and retire after 20 years or upon reaching 60. Lloyd Newell does his commentaries from a stand in the balcony. He came forward to the stage at the end of the broadcast to talk, and then the entire stage crew turned to face the audience and sing God be with you till we meet again. This was show number 4,411, it has continued weekly since July 15, 1929. To a man the coats were shed as soon as the lights were turned down at the end of broadcast for the rehearsal that followed. Can you imagine driving 200 miles on a Thursday Night for a 90 minute rehearsal. None of the musicians or technicians is paid.   

After touring the museum walked down for beet salad and fish and chips then came back for the 2 PM organ concert. The General Conference is next week so even this concert was well attended. Once more, an elder gave us a talk. Selections were picked to show off the organ. The principal chorus, the strings, the weirder theatre organ stops, and in the final toccata a finale featuring full organ.           

At end of concert I raced out to catch my ride home at 2:30. Everyone on Temple Square and our drivers were exaggeratedly polite and solicitous. I was amused to learn that the Americans in the crew were told the pickup was 15 minutes before the actual time.

Could have done without the white stuff but an inspiring day. It started raining with several lightening flashes and claps of thunder while I was having lunch, then the temperature started dropping dramatically. When I left the organ concert it was snowing heavily.

Canyonlands National Park

Moab like the National Parks for which it serves as the jumping off point was carved from the surrounding beige plateau by the Colorado River. It is so named because just as it’s namesake in the Middle East its rock is bright red. The area was settled originally by Mormons. To reach Canyonlands you drive north 10 miles climbing back up to the plateau, then hang a left and drive 22 more miles along a broken winding hilly two-lane to the park entrance. I stopped at the visitors centre to pick up an audio guide and watch their introductory movie. Canyonlands has a history not unlike Palo Duro in Texas however here it was the Island in the Sky Mesa--tablelands--surrounded by 2000 ft cliffs that kept the cattle in on meadowland where grass formerly grew belly-high to a horse. The Mesa is separated from the adjoining plateau by a 40-ft neck which made keeping cattle contained rather easy. A well-maintained roadway leads to various parking areas from which trails lead off in all directions. The easy ones lead to breathtaking vistas; the difficult ones with a 1000-ft change in elevation would take one’s breath away. I’ll add pictures and commentary. 

 Suspended over the edge of a massive cliff Mesa Arch impresses. 

Canyons cut into the valley floor below reveal another strata of rock with snow-capped peaks in the background.

 

The Green River meets the Colorado

Look closely and you'll see people and cars on the 100-mile back-country trail.

For the venturesome there is a 100-mile high-profile all-terrain-vehicle single-lane roadway that snakes through the canyons. One vista shows the larger Green River joining the Colorado. Only one picnic site was too busy for stopping. In all I drove 100 miles this Friday. Alas, I had to drive back down to my campground for the night and drive back up the next day.

My Spring Odyssey 2014

The challenge is to describe a 3500-mile journey of 25 days and not sound boring. After packing the last few items in my RV, though not particularly organized, I locked myself out of the home I’ve occupied for the past 4 months and headed out. The first challenge was to defy my GPS which wanted to go down I-35 instead of up 183 to MOPAC. Then to defy it again as it insisted on trying to take me directly south to I-10 rather than my chosen route out 290 through Johnson City. A check of the map will show you why. Of course since I left at 4:30 there was nothing to see but traffic lights and gas stations along the road. One would prefer not to see deer at that hour.

Two hundred and thirty miles later I stopped in Ozona for some rather over-priced $3.99 gas. The only thing worse would have been running out 100 miles from anywhere. In downtown Ozona, Population 3225 , I stopped at Sonic for a Tex-Mex Breakfast Burrito which I came to regret as I ‘enjoyed’ it for the next few hours. In West Texas I-10 is rated at 80 mph but whatever speed you drive there is little to miss besides steely gray stratified clouds they wish yielded some rain and rolling hills that become rocky mesas as one ascends to nearly 5000 ft above sea level. Fort Davis is another 220 miles from Ozona after taking a left turn along a highway that follows valleys cut by the local arroyos where the only green one sees is that of early budding trees along the ravines. The one thing one doesn’t want to see at 70 to 80 MPH is a Texas Long Horn. Much of West Texas is open range grazing land.

Information on the Prude Ranch being difficult to find I decided to camp south of town. MacMillan in the HIghlands may have come out of receivership but it still hasn’t entered the 20th Century--the functionary I met demanded cash for my two-day stay. At least the Wi-Fi and Hydro were contemporary. I’d come here to see the stars at the MacDonald Observatory up in the mountains North-West of Town. Alas the weatherman had other ideas and socked the sky in with clouds. The astronomers may have the co-operation of the County in preventing extraneous light but they have no control over weather. I’d  walked or biked every street in town and toured the National Park previously so I relaxed in camp. 

El Paso, 200 miles west, is a long narrow stretch north of the Mexican border and south of a mountain range to the North. In many ways it is a frontier town and the Roadrunner RV Park is not in the best part. Didn’t find anyone to sign me in until the next morning. The Albertsons I shopped at before parking was the worst dump I’ve ever shopped at. Obviously slated for closure everything I looked at was days or weeks past its best before date and the selection was pitiful. When I did find someone in the office discovered their on site garage did not have the supplies to fix my sewage hose. Took another rest day before heading out. As the metal plaque beside the office reads:

On this site in 1897

Nothing happened

Set out early Tuesday morning March 25th for Albuquerque, New Mexico 300 miles distant. The trip North West along I-25 involves a 2000 ft gain in elevation. Getting out of El Paso in the dark is no mean feat as I-10 wanders hither and yon. Just into New Mexico one passes through the Border Control Shed. They didn’t seem interested in this canuck. I started out early to beat the cross-winds and succeeded mainly. The American RV Park in Albuquerque is a class act owned by a chain. Unfortunately the new gal at the desk placed me at the far end of the park rather than opposite the washroom for no good reason I could see. No pop corn either as the machine is bust. But they still offer complimentary breakfast with waffles Wednesday Morning. Hmm Good. Some wicked cloud formations, a few spatterings of rain and a minor twister or two but the landscape is still dangerously drought ridden. I got some cooking done. 

Drove into town to shop at Smiths and get gas early Thursday Morning and was not impressed with the rowdy Latinos in the parking lot of the mall. At 6:45 decided I wasn’t waiting around for breakfast and began driving West on I-40 which follows old Route 66. Shook my head at the Left-Lane Hog driving a U-haul truck and trailer with no car in sight for 100 miles in front or behind him. Stopped east of Gallop for breakfast just after crossing the continental divide and staring at the snow on either side of the highway. At this point the way turned north on 491 at first a 4 lane and then a two-lane highway. The route passes through Cortez where I stayed when I visited Mesa Verde. I dodged snow and hale most of the day. Stopped in Monticello for gas and then took Utah 191 North 50 miles to Moab. Stopped at the info centre there. A month later than my last visit here there was actually someone in the office when I arrived at my campground. Having driven all day I elected to walk down to find a campsite. The gal at the desk thought it a large 300-site park and recommended driving, she obviously hasn’t seen the 5000 sites at Whistlers Park in Jasper.

Red slickrock looms high across the road from the campground. Opted to stay over an entire day and see Canyonlands and since there was nothing playing in town went to bed early.

End of Week One.

The Attack on Labour

Industry and by that I mean large mutli-national corporations have used recent downturns in the economy and near bankruptcies of economic sectors too big to fail to roll back advances labour unions have fought for over the past half century and even wage an attack on the unions’ very existence. While quick to ask for concessions restoring wages and benefits to their former levels when prosperity returns is quite another matter. They will, however, spend years paying no taxes as they write off past losses while you and I pick up the tab. Large conglomerates have gleefully snapped up smaller business, laid off workers, shut down factories, and put thousands out of work. Recent recessions have provided them with a golden opportunity roll back benefits and reduce workforces. Businesses that once argued they be allowed to raid bloated pension funds are now crying poor because those same funds lack sufficient premiums coming in to sustain their outlays.

The number of government jobs lost in the past few years is staggering. In the private sector industry has outsourced production to Third World Countries with lower wages, lower labour standards, few to no environmental controls, and appalling working conditions. Retail operations have made Made in the USA or Canada labels an almost extinct commodity. Only recently is it dawning on these entrepreneurs that if no one locally has a job no one will have an income to buy their merchandise. Fires and building collapses in off-shore sweat shops, online videos of working conditions and child labour, product recalls due to unsafe chemicals, and inferior products have all contributed to bad publicity and shamed CEO’s. The divide between salaries paid those CEO’s and the laborers who work for them is widening exponentially.

In their headlong pursuit of dividends for their corporate shareholders companies have forgotten that their most valuable resource is a loyal workforce. At the same time their employees increasingly look at their work as a means of paying their bills, not a career. Getting through the day, collecting a paycheque, and getting home safely have replaced pride in workmanship. Too many employers are like those recently caught replacing local workers with cheaper foreign labour; it was the bad publicity it generated and the possible effects on their corporate profits that concerned them. Too many are like the mine owner in the town of Frank; he was not concerned about the destruction of most of the town or the loss of 700 lives but how many days of production he would lose from the mine. Analyzed in psychiatric terms most big corporations are morally psychotic. The governments whose war chests they support through their donations are little better.

War and Peace

No, not Tolstoy though I have read that tome. First an aside. What was it with the military and flat feet? With wet feet I leave no sign of an instep with my perfectly flat feet but I managed to walk 72,000 miles with a thirty-five pound mailbag with nary a twinge.

Second a reveal. From lifelong I have been a pacifist opposed to war in any form and the military establishment in general. As a flat-footed allergic asthmatic about to become a full-fledged senior I am in no danger of being recruited. Furthermore I am appalled at the distortion of the second amendment rights in the US Constitution to bear arms and the gun culture it fosters. I do not understand how having a lethal weapon around whose only purpose is the taking of human life can add to anyone’s sense of security.

That said I feel America pays an awful price for training so many of its citizens to be experts in the taking of human life and so arming them. But I also say that having so trained them and deployed them it owes them the even higher cost of rehabilitation and re-integration into society when they return. The cost of such care typically is triple the cost of any war ever waged. Politicians and Generals too often do not budget for these expenses. Did you know there is still an open file left over from the American Civil War?

Military training is aimed at creating killing machines who follow orders without thinking. Is it really wise to train so many to ignore the moral imperative against the taking of human life? Having taken impressionable boys on the cusp of manhood and so inculcated them they are sent off to experience inhuman conditions, be subjected to violent heart-stopping stress, where human life is little valued, they witness scenes of depravity, and the death and maiming of their mates. Having been subjected to these conditions for a year or longer they are sent back home and suddenly expected to adjust to North American Society.

Should we be surprised that victims of Post Traumatic Stress act out? Who is qualified to deal with their emotional distress even did they wish to relive it? Do we do them or society any favours in training them to be strong and tough it out? Are we failing them in teaching them that to seek help is a sign of weakness and failure?

I'm Back

It's not that I haven't made blog entries in the past six months, just not in this section of Blogger. I've kept busy in  Austin this past Winter but there has been a sameness about events that just didn't bear boring repetition here. Now that I'm back home in Oakville with time on my hands expect the expression of some moral outrage and an overdue

account of my journey back home. Just give it time.