What Happens in Vegas ...

Again, this is a post from memory, as I wrote nothing at the time.  And I am not sure what happened to our pictures from this day.  I thought we had taken a bunch, but maybe on one of the kids' cameras.  I only found a few and the were not that interesting.  Oh, except this one advertising an upcoming Air Supply show.  I remember listening to the annual countdown on New Years Eve my Freshman year in high school listening to see how many of their songs made the list.  I had some sort of competition with the neighbor boy between my band and his. 

Day 8, Monday, August 26
Vegas, Baby!  A place that wasn't on the list of sights to see on this trip.  I have nothing tangible against Las Vegas.  But I don't have money to risk losing.  I am far more impressed with the Beauty of God's earth than with glitz and flash of hedonistic America.  And, ... well, they don't call it Sin City for nothing.

It just wasn't high on my list of American Southwest family tourist destinations.

But it was raining on the north rim of the Grand Canyon.  It was raining on the south rim.  It was raining in Zion National Park.  It was raining along this entire section of our route.  And not just a little rain.  One of those steady, three day soakers that sends the water careening down the dry gulches of the American southwest in raging torrents.  As we were coming into Las Vegas there were places the muddy water had washed onto the highway.  The following morning's newspaper had pictures of flash flooding in nearby many areas.

So we ended up in Vegas.  Where we knew no one, and had done no research on what to see or do.  We considered a day trip to Hoover Dam.  But we crossed that off the list after some unsuccessful checking on parks in the vicinity.  We had purchased food for camping that needed to be used.  Some of it needed to be cooked.  Any outing we planned had to include a shelter and a grill for our noon meal.  Most of the park information for that area was somewhat vague as to the availability of grills or fire pits.  We did have our campstove if we needed to use it, but cooking on two small burners is kind of a slow process for the volume of food we needed to cook.

I did find out about a kind of cool sounding place just on the Vegas side of the Hoover Dam area.  On our next trip down to that part of the world, if it ever happens, we'll have to put Hemenway Valley Park, along with Hoover Dam, on our list for the next trip.  "One of this park's main attractions is the Bighorn sheep that come down from the mountains to water and graze." (from the Boulder City website).

Thankfully I was reminded by one of my online friends that she and her family live in Las Vegas.  Oh, yes, online friendships... My daughters tease me because they see the double standard.  We exhort our kids to only have online correspondence with those they know personally.  But on the other hand, we are all part of various on-line communities.  And we come to know and love the people we meet there.  And to depend upon them for support and advice.

I'm part of a Confessional Lutheran women's facebook group.   Many of these women are pastors' wives.  Many homeschool.  Many have large families.  All these women are committed to raising their families to know and understand what it means to be a Lutheran.  To train up our children to know firstly that they are sinful and live in a sin-filled world.  And secondly, but more importantly, that Jesus has died to save us from the guilt of our sin, so that we can one day have eternal life in Heaven with Him.  And that this righteousness, that is ours through Christ, is a free gift.  A totally free gift.  The Lutheran view of Salvation through Grace alone, Faith alone, and Scripture alone, and that also depends totally on God and His grace to give us the gift of faith through His Word and Sacraments, is unique among Christians.  We seek guidance and help in all areas of our parenting through our facebook friendships. 

And so we becomes close friends although we don't really know each other personally.  And to some we become closer to than others.  We have private message or e-mail conversations, or even write letters, call, or visit when  opportunities arise.

Erica S. is one of these friends who I've gotten to know a little better through private conversations.  Besides having in common the Lutheran and mothering and pastor wife parts of our lives, I've often thought that our families would get along especially well.  Various topics of interest that have come up seemed common to us.

And yes, Erica lives in Las Vegas.  But I had forgotten that.  After I posted from the hotel in Vegas about our plans changing, and about being in Las Vegas with no particular plans, Erica sent me a message suggesting that if we have time, we should try to meet in person.  I explained our dilemma of needing an outing that would include cooking our camping food.  And also that my teenaged girls wanted to experience a little bit of Vegas, and to shop at a Ross.

The day turned out splendid from our point of view.  We met the S.es at a park in their neighborhood.  A park with both a shelter and a grill.  Their two little ones played with our little ones on the well-appointed playground.  They got sopping wet in the drizzle, but it didn't seem to bother any of them.  Erica and her husband, Vincent, visited with Joe and I.  Joe cooked burgers, while Erica and I got the other foods set out.  The teen girls worked on photos for the "Planking in Vegas" project they plan to produce.

We had a lovely visit.  After lunch, the S.es invited us over to their home.  Erica had noticed me putting our dirty dishes into a plastic bag to wash later at the hotel, so she kindly offered the use of their kitchen sink.  And she threw the kids' wet clothes in her dryer.  So very thoughtful and kind.

The kids played some more.  The men played.  They watched break-dancing videos and engaged in feats of valor with wooden practice swords, escrima sticks, to be precise.  They talked theology and science fiction/fantasy, among other things. 

After the clothes were dry, we moms and the older five girls took off to see the city.  We shopped at Ross and TJ Max, and found a few things.  We drove the strip and saw the sights.  Said sights would include a moving billboard of three scantily clad or unclad women advertising a certain phone business.  Yep.  Stuck in downtown traffic behind the truck that was the billboard.  Stop, start.  Stop, start.  All the way through downtown.  Mostly naked ladies staring us in the face.  Two pastors' wives and a carload of teenaged girls. 

We went to the Fashion Show Mall on the strip.  We zipped off the strip to catch a quick supper at a fast food Mexican joint. 

Then back to the strip to meet the rest of the gang.  Vincent and the S. children decided to call it a night and so they didn't come downtown.  They were all tuckered out after a day with the Abrahamsons.  Imagine that!  But Vincent gave Joe directions to meet us at the Fountains of the Bellagio.  Louisa had seen the Magic Fountain of Montjuïc, in Barcelona, Spain, so was interested in this famous fountain, too. 

As things happen, especially where the Abrahamsons are concerned, things got a little confused.  Erica and the girls and I thought we were meeting in the lobby of the Bellagio.  Joe with the littles thought we were meeting at the fountain, along the road near the parking lot.

We women folk walked through the indoor gardens adjacent to the lobby, and when Joe still wasn't there, we went down the hallway to the chocolate fountain. 

Joe and the kids watched the fountain go.  Every fifteen minutes.  For about 40 minutes.  They saw three of the repetitions.  Inge had to go to the bathroom and so fussed nearly the whole time.  And really, what's a dad to do?  He is trying to keep order on a 4, 6, 7, and 9 year old in a jostling crowd.  The nearest restroom is who knows where, but no doubt at least a several minute walk through the jostling crowd.  And he had no idea when we were finally going to arrive or what the hold up was.

We women finally ran out of things to look at inside the Bellagio and so Erica gave Vincent a call to see how long ago Joe had left and where he expected Joe might be.  Ah-ha!  Down by the road.  So we hurried down the walkway along side the fountain.  Scanning the rows of people gathered to see the fountain.  Stopping so we didn't photo-bomb any of the many shots of people posing along the walkway.  Somehow managing to get separated into three groups on the way down to the road. 

I found Joe, and he kind of threw Inge at me.  "She has to go to the bathroom!  Immediately!"  I grabbed Inge and started the way back up the sidewalk to the lobby.  Along the way I found Erica and the girls with her, and pointed out Joe to them.  I found the bigger girls, and told them where to head.  And then I, continued on to the bathroom, hoping that by the time we were done, everyone else will have found each other. 

All told, we women got to see one of the musical selections that the fountain presented.  Joe and the kids saw three.  But I'm not sure Joe really enjoyed it, since he had a crying little one, and no clue how to help her, and whether she might at any minute wet her pants and her dad.

And where was our cell phone in all this?  Safely in the van, of course.  Where we could use it in case of a roadside emergency...

Oyweh!

Eventually we all found each other, used the bathroom, and saw both the water and the chocolate fountains.  We said our goodbyes to our new friend, Erica.  And then we assembled in the van to head to the hotel.  Tired and ready to sleep.

Unexpected Pleasures, aka, the Silver Lining in a Wet Cloud

Days 5 and 6,  Friday and Saturday, August 23-24 (having been written on Day 6)

Oh, where to start!

I'm not going to start at the beginning. I'm going to start right now. I'm sitting in a cabin! A cabin that's not where we planned to be. And the power is out!

Our lovely van outside the Jacob Lake cabin

Joe, Elsie, Clara, Sophie, and John are at a talk on the Navajo, particularly focusing on the weaving and other handicrafts of the women. Louisa and Rachel took a walk around the lake, and it took them longer than they thought it would, so they were late for the talk. Instead, they shopped at the gift shop and then came to the cabin all tuckered out and ready for bed, and grinning ear to ear. I was here with Inge and Donna and we were playing a Pictionary Card Game I picked up at Wal-Mart today in anticipation of the rainy weather.

But what about Stella, you may ask. Where is Stella?

She is here with me now. But a little bit ago, when the power was still up and running, she had been with Joe at the Navajo talk.

A few minutes ago, Inge, Donna and I were sitting in our cabin playing our card game. Suddenly everything was pitch black. And at the same moment, there was a knock at the door. We were all a bit befuddled, trying to figure out where the lights were, and where the sleeping bags and tote bags were, compared to the walkway.  And who would be knocking at the exact moment the power went off.  All I could do in answer to the knock, in the dark, in a strange place, was to holler, "I'm coming, just a minute."

Fortunately, I had left the door unlatched. And in tumbled Stella. She had become bored at the talk, so Joe said she could come back to the cabin. She was walking back here all alone, in a strange forest, through the roads and paths of an unfamiliar inn and cabin facility. Thankfully, she was just about here when the power went off, so she could find her way all right! Poor little goose. She didn't seem too phased, which I suppose it good. Inge was kind of freaked out, so she crawled into bed with Louisa and Rachel until her heart stopped racing.

We got the littles all jammied by the glow of Sophie's dollar store LED lantern. They crawled into their bed on the floor of the cabin. We sang I am Jesus Little Lamb and Jesus Loves Me. We said prayers. Besides our regular nightly prayers, we thanked God for the blessing of this cozy little cabin, in which we can sit out tonight's storms.

We prayed for Matt, as we've been doing each night all summer long. But this time we included his birthday prayer. His birthday was really a few days ago, but with not much for schedule these days, we'd forgotten it was his birthday. We always say a special birthday prayer for each of our children on their birthdays. We thank God for the precious gift of the child, and his or her particular personality. And we ask God's blessing on the coming year. Particularly, we ask that according to His tender Mercy and Wisdom, God grant us another year with that child.

Now everyone under my immediate care is tucked in tenderly, so I have time to write. To share the excitement of the evening, and to talk about the wonders of the last few days.

Yesterday morning, we were still in South Dakota, in the lovely Black Hills.  We woke the kids early and rolled everyone out of their sleeping bags and bedding. And yes, there were a few whom we quite literally rolled out. They all worked very busily to get the bedding rolled up and the tents taken down. I packed the van, which job traditionally falls to me. I'm a pretty good packer. I learned from my dad, a Navy man and an excellent packer. Joe finds packing very frustrating, trying to make everything fit. I find it kind of a fun puzzle. But I'm also discovering that, well, I'm not as young as I used to be. It's kind of a drag, really. the getting old thing. I want to be tough and be able to work hard and stand anything. But by the time I get the van loaded and unloaded a few times in a few days, I am pretty much worthless. I'm sure that it's mostly my age. But I'm secretly blaming the altitude. That must be it, right? I can fool myself into believing that were I simply vacationing in Minnesota, I'd be just as spry as in years past.  Or maybe it's the bruises all along my hips and rib cage from sleeping on the deflated air mattress.  Or maybe all of the above.  But mostly the altitude.

We had gotten the van mostly loaded the night before, and slept in our traveling clothes. And we'd planned to eat breakfast at a stop later on our way. We didn't want to mess with a fire that morning, and we knew as damp and chilly as it had gotten, nobody would want to eat cold cereal at 6:00 am. (We have done that before and trust me, it's really, really no fun. For the parents or the children.).  So all we had to do that morning was roll up sleeping bags and take down the tents.  And pack said sleeping bags and tents.  Just a quick morning pack-up.  Ten sleeping bags; six or eight other quilts and blankets; pillows for all; and two tents.

We ended up stopping at a rest are in Wyoming to eat breakfast. There was another family there at the same time, doing the same thing. They were a young couple, with six small children. It was fun to visit and to be able to encourage another younger couple. We certainly remember those days when the number of littles was still far too great compared to the number of bigs. It's a very difficult time, but so worth the work.

We traveled many beautiful miles yesterday, through the southwestern Black Hills area, diagonally across Wyoming, and on into Utah. We listened to Ann of Green Gables as we drove.

We arrived at the Hamilton's house for our evening sleep-over at about 8:00 pm. They are in the middle of preparing for a move to Wisconsin! In just a few days! When we found out, we made other plans, to travel a different route instead and see a few different sites. But they encouraged us that they were game for a little bit more crazy yet. I'm not sure they really were, but we totally understand. Their children were kind and welcoming, and they all made every effort to accommodate us even through they were in such an upheaval. We are thankful for this very great offering. And we understand, too, their desire to have us stop. They are a pastor's family, too. And we understand the sense of gratitude that comes with a visit from another pastor's family. It's always a treat. I'm glad Aaron and Joe had those few hours to visit and build each other up in their Holy Callings.

We got up and left kind of quickly this morning. We had to run back in once, just before we pulled out for a pair of flip-flops; and then we circled back a few blocks away from their house because a certain one of us remembered she had left her pillow. This time, when pulling out, we immediately got lost. Not really lost, lost. But mixed up anyway, to the point that Joe and I had differing ideas of where to go.

But that was soon resolved and we hit the road. I was quite bleary-headed the first hour or two. Just felt in a total fog. Joe drove until he felt groggy and then he pulled off at a truck stop/travel center. He parked way out away from everything, thinking since I was so befuddled, we'd just sit awhile and let the kids run a bit and he could nap. But by the time we got everyone pottied and bought some snacks, and one of the older daughters painter her toe nails in the truck stop parking lot, I was fully awake and ready to roll.

What a beautiful drive we had this day!  Since our destination for the day was the North Rim area of the Grand Canyon, we listened to Brighty of the Grand Canyon by Marguerite Henry as we traveled.  We saw view after view of colorful cliffs, lonely looking draws, majestic rim rock, rugged gullies, and mountains and valleys of every shape and color.



The weather continued wet, alternating storm and sun throughout the day. We wound and climbed and coasted and braked. We took time to pull off the highway and photograph the vistas. We drove like old folks, meandering slowing and pulling off to let others pass us when necessary.

John leaving Utah

And so South through Utah, and into Arizona.

And entering Arizona

But with the continuing dreary weather, we really did not feel up to setting up our leaky, somewhat primitive tents. I didn't feel strong enough to deal with a three day cycle of hauling wet bedding to the laundry mat or hanging it all on our clothesline to try to dry between showers. So we just drove. Without worrying. When the kids asked, we'd answer along the lines of, "We don't know yet we'll have to wait and see."  It's always a challenge to find lodging for a group this size. If places have the space available, they often want us to get two or three rooms. Some places even require an adult in each room.  That's really challenging when they sometimes want to put us in three rooms.

We had reservations for three nights in the National Forest Campground, at the Jacob Lake area, about 40 miles north of the North Rim.  When we arrived, we consulted with the nice lady at the Forest Service information desk about the weather forecast and the various options available for lodging.  She said the weather was expected to continue much the same for the next several days, rain and storms with only a bit of sun peeking through.  She called the Inn area nearer the Rim to check on their prices and space availability.
Then I went next door to the lodging complex at Jacob Lake. I had read they had hotel, motel, and cabin options. When I asked at the desk, and explained about our large family, they were very helpful, even recommending we could all squeeze into one cabin, if we put sleeping bags between the beds and in the hallway area. Wow! I was astounded! Rarely have I had anyone encourage me to get fewer rooms! They usually cite fire code or company policy, etc, to get us into more rooms rather than fewer.

And so we had a lovely, relaxing evening. We had to eat cold supper, since there is no cooking of any sort in or outside of the cabins.  But we all filled up on a variety of good things. Sophie took the littles to the playground. Louisa and Rachel took their walk, and Elsie and Clara did dishes. I got the food put away, and the bedding organized for later.   Joe downloaded today's photos. 

The Main Room

Here's a view of the main room of the cabin.  Joe and I in one bed; Louisa, Rachel, and Elsie in another; we put a sleeping bag on each side of the beds and in between, which were occupied by Clara, Sophie, and John.

The Alcove

But that's not all, ... We still had three more kids to bed down.  Here's the little alcove where we made a bed for the remaining three.

A view of the other cabins and the forest setting

The back deck

Later in the evening, those that were interested headed to the cultural talk.  Joe is still there now, at 9:51.  He must have found a kindred spirit in somebody there. By now, the kids who had been at the talk with Joe are back.  They came in almost an hour ago and brought word that he was staying for the discussion afterward.

Everyone here is nicely settled in. The power is not yet on, and I'm at the end of my tales thus far.

Hope all is well with you, my readers.  Goodnight.

A Very Cold Swim and the pursuit of the National Treasure Rock

Sylvan Lake

Part 3, Day Four, Thursday, August 22
After the fun hike and the adventurous drive, we finally made it to Sylvan Lake.  We toted our coolers to the nearest picnic tables, through the natural spring-fed ground that was kind of mushy-muddy.  Ish.  It was grass, like any other park picnic area I've seen, but it was deceiving.  The ground was sodden and sucked at our feet as we walked through it.  Several of us had mud splattered legs and clothes by the time we got to the picnic tables. 

No problem, though, since we're finally going swimming!

Playing in the sand

We quickly ate lunch, but not quickly enough to please all the kiddos, especially the older ones who'd been waiting to swim since we started out Monday morning.  Some kids had swimwear on under their clothes and others changed in the van.  The off we went to the lake.  To the beach.  Along the path.

Until we once again got into some spongy ground.  Thinking it to be only about the same as the ground in the picnic area, since there was a path there, after all, we continued on.  Only to learn too late that we really, really ought to have turned around and found another way.  There was a paved walkway further in, but we hadn't seen it until things got gooey.  But this time, besides just the gooey, spongy ground, we also found the water was sedentary.  Whereas on the hillside where the picnic area was, the springs flowed downhill toward the lake, here on the path too the lake, the ground was level enough it simply sat.

And stank.

So that by the time we had gotten through the quagmire, we were all quite coated with stinky, smelly mud.  Most had on flip-flops, so it wasn't too much trouble. 

But I had my tennis shoes.  Ish!  As soon as I got to the lake, I dipped them in and swished them around to get the stink out.  Which would have been fine had we sunny weather in the days to come.  But those poor shoes ended up in a bag in the car for several days.  And ended up in a gas station dumpster somewhere in Arizona or New Mexico.

But I get ahead of myself.

John trying to open the cave

One of the fun bonuses to which the kids looked forward at Sylvan Lake was the possibility of finding The Rock.  The rock into which one of the treasure hunters in National Treasure Book of Secrets had to stick his or her hand to open the cave or whatever it was to solve the mystery. 

Stella trying to open the cave

But they all knew just what Joe meant when he said, "Sylvan Lake is the Lake where they filmed parts of National Treasure.  The one that's alleged to be above Mt. Rushmore, but isn't really.  But it is a real lake and we'll get to go there when we're in the Black Hills." 

"Can we stick our hand in the rock?"

Sohpie getting bitten by a brown recluse--JK

As it turned out, no, they didn't get to stick their hand in the rock.  That particular rock must have been a prop.  But they found the promontory which was where the rock was supposed to be.  At least they think they did.  Joe took some of the littles around to other places until they found a similar enough looking rock that the kids could stick their hands in.  What a guy!

Climbing the rocks

By the time we were done with lunch and ready to swim, the wind had come up and it was quite chilly out.  The more mountainous lake temp compared to our still shallow lakes in Minnesota was also colder than they expected.  So as it turned out, nobody really swam much.  But they played in the sand, took walks and climbed the rocks.

Trying to keep warm

We listened to the chit-chat of the other tourists in many languages.  We heard German and Turkish and Russian, just at the beach among the few families that were there.

When we tired of shivering, we headed back to the campground to get an early bedtime.  In the morning it'd be time to break camp and hit the road again.

Rock Climbing

Hang on, girls!

Rachel and Louisa

Teeny Sophie

Sophie

Inge

John

Clara

Donna

The Majesty of Needles Highway

Part 2, Day Four, Thursday, August 22
After our very nice hike in the French Creek Natural Area, and our surprise visit with old friends, we continued on our way.  The kids were all very ready for a nice swim, after sitting in the back of the hot van while we chatted away with the Timms, the couple we ran into from Joe's hometown. 

So we continued on our way to Sylvan Lake.  The scenery along the Needles Highway was tremendous.  We had picked up a couple of more detailed maps of the areas and the kids had noticed we'd be driving through three tunnels.  Oooh, the anticipation mounted with each curve of the highway.  Until finally, ...

The first tunnel one finds driving north on SD 87.  I believe it's officially called Tunnel 6 or Iron Creek Tunnel.  This seems unnerving until one sees the later ones.

But the views only got better after the first tunnel, each progressively more marvelous and rugged than the last.

A view of some of the Needles formations for which the route is named.  I like the roadway curving along further ahead.

More Needles.  I obviously took this shot out the car window, so the areal is in the way.  But it showed how narrow the roadway is along this stretch of highway.

More pretty views.  I think one of the kids took this shot.  Maybe Sophie.  I love how the dark rock along the right contrasts with the blues of the hills.  And the green leaves in the foreground sparkling in the sun.  Can't you almost see them swaying in the mountain breezes?

I think I took this shot looking straight up.  Joe warned me it wouldn't capture the reality of the view.  And he was right, of course.  But it's still a cool shot.

Another "looking up from the car window" shot.  A bit askew, but only that makes it more cool, I think.

The approach to the Needles Eye tunnel.

And a closer view of the 8'4" wide tunnel

Shortly after the Needles Eye, we arrived at Sylvan Lake, hungry and ready to swim.

Family Fun in Tight Quarters

What does a carload of kids do to keep entertained for several hours in vehicle?

All Packed up and Ready to Go

A view from the back.

Day one, Monday, August 19
The goal was to leave at 4:00am, to get an early start. But by the time Joe and I finally had everything ready the night before, it was no longer the night before. It was 2:10 am. Time for a change of plans. Joe was all for getting the kids up, and leaving right then. So that we wouldn't have to drag ourselves awake after less than two hours of sleep. I was thinking more along the lines of postponing our departure time for couple of hours. So that we wouldn't have to drag ourselves awake after less than two hours of sleep.

I won.

It wasn't really a very big disagreement. I simply asked Joe, “Considering my chronic headache lately, I'd really like to sleep horizontally for at least a few hours. Could we please leave a little bit later?” He sighed heavily, grunted and groaned and carried on, and then said, “Sure.”

Not really. Really, he just said that it would be fine that way, too.

So we set the alarm for 5:30 and fell into bed. I think we were both sleeping before we hit the pillows. At 5:30, we got up. Well, I got up.

The plan was for me to make coffee and get the coolers filled. Joe was to empty the household garbages, and then get kids up and rolling.

I got up. I put the coffee on.

But alas!

I ran a nice pot of clear coffee.

And Joe fell back to sleep.

I thought I'd do up the last few dishes, and spilled dish water out the edge of the dish drainer.

The kids had trouble thinking, too, and wandered around in a somewhat clueless fashion.

We finally left home about 6:15. Not exactly our goal, but at least we were on the road.

All the happy kiddos!

Even with all our great cargo space, we still needed to have the coolers right inside the doors. It makes getting in and out a bit complicated. But lunches on the road are easier this way.

We also had to stop in Red Lake Falls to return library books that would come due while we'd be gone. I think we had about 30-35 to return. I had to keep reaching my arm into the little door and flinging the pile to the sides in order to fit all the books in. So, … I'm sorry, ladies, if I left a mess in there for you to pick up. I would have much preferred returning them the previous week, when you were open. We could have had a little visit. And we'd have not had to plan an extra stop first thing after we got going.

But I ran out of time.

Once we were on the road, everything went smoothly. It always does. We generally think of a few things here and there that we've forgotten.

But we were free!

Free of the everyday responsibilities of life. We're on VACATION! It's such a fun feeling to hit the open road. There's rarely anything we could forget that we can't either live without, or pick up along the way.

A few days before we left, in response to a facebook post about our coming trip, our friend, Sudesh (the primary mover and shaker behind this website and fund drive, by the way) posted a fun video. It was from an “Indian Beach Movie” from the 70s, Bombay to Goa. The scene he posted was of a busload of tourists, all looking a bit like Elvis or Annette Funicello, singing and dancing about their trip. The tune to the song was that of the Beach Boys' Help me Rhonda. “Bom-bay-bom-bom, Bombay to Goa! Bom-bay-bom-bom, Bombay to Goa! ...” and so on. The driver was swaying back and forth, and his steering wheel was freely swaying with him. We had all laughed as we watched it.

After we left home, somewhere heading south on I-29, I dozed off. But in one of those fun twists of happenstance, when Help Me Rhonda came on the radio, Joe excitedly woke me up so we could all sing and dance as we drove. Unlike the folks in the movie, though, we stayed safely buckled in our seats. And Joe only pretended to freely wave the steering wheel back and forth.

For the most part, the kids got along well during the entire drive. When the kids first started clambering for something on the radio, Joe hooked up his mp3 player to his little broadcaster doohicky so we could all listen to his audio files. But which would he choose? We never quite know with Joe. And he had that mischievous gleam in his eye.

It might be the New Testament in Koine Greek or modern Hebrew language lessons. It might be an audio book of classic sci-fi tale such as John Carter of Mars or something by H. G. Wells. Or it might be a podcast of anything from the Lutheran radio show, Issues, Etc, to Michio Kaku's Science Fantastic.

We were pleasantly surprised to hear that our listening entree for the morning would be an NPR radio theater production of Don Quixote. That title has always been on my to-read list, so I was kind of excited. But it turned out to be kind of only so-so. It really wasn't very enjoyable. We listened for awhile, but it just didn't capture any of us.

After lunch, we put on C. S. Lewis' The Magician's Nephew. The older kids have all heard or read the entire Chronicles of Narnia, but we've not done as much read-aloud with our younger children. So for many of them, this was a new story.

It was fun to see the kids notice the parallels to the Biblical texts. Aslan creating Narnia of course, being the primary one. Some of the younger kids have read or been read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It was fun to see the lightbulbs come on as they pieced together who the characters were in the Magician's Nephew, compared to those in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

That story took us across the eastern end of South Dakota, from Watertown, to about Pierre.

The South Dakota Capitol in Pierre

At Pierre, we drove past the capitol. It's a pretty building. I like the contrast of the dark colored dome.

The fields of golden sunflowers holding their heads up toward the sun, or the heavier ones drooping their darker heads toward the ground was one of my favorite views of the day. There were many places where the dusty golden bales of hay in adjacent fields contrasted nicely with the bright yellow of the flowers and the deep green of their leaves.

Not a very clear picture, since it was taken as we were driving.  But it gives a little taste of the pretty colors.

Later as we got into the more arid landscape of the west, we saw some very pretty draws. The grasses were a light, almost silvery green, and the treetops of what was likely primarily cottonwoods tufted out of the meandering shadows in a dark green. The sandy color of the ground where the soils had eroded added nicely to the texture of the landscape.

After Pierre, we quizzed the kids on the number of state capital's we've driven through or been to. John remembered having been to Bismarck and now Pierre, but he didn't remember the others until we prompted him. “Where do Aunt Kathy and Uncle Joel live?” “Olympia?” “What about Boise when we went to see Aunt Beth?” “Oh, yeah, Idaho!” “Or what about driving through Iowa when we went to Aunt Aimee's?“ “Hmmm, Des Moines!” “Where do Kristi and John live?” “Or how about when we camped with Lisa Hecht?”

Gradually they named Bismark, Pierre, Boise, Olympia, Des Moines, and Madison. The older kids weren't in this conversation, but some of them also might have added Lincoln, Wichita, Springfield, and St. Paul. We live quite far from all of my relatives, so most of our vacations have been road trips to see the Aunts and Uncles. That's one reason why this trip is such a treat. We'd be seeing different areas of the country. Areas we'd not usually have the luxury to choose to explore.

When we were done talking about the states, the bigger girls asked if we could hook up Rachel's iPod, so they could hear some country music. We jammed to Taylor Swift, Tim McGraw and others. Singing and swaying just like the tourists in Bombay to Goa. I was driving at this point.

I, like Joe earlier, avoided swinging the steering wheel like the driver in that movie.

Instead, I simply let go and let the car go where it wanted on the empty South Dakota highways.

Louisa had asked recently, when we were also singing something or other, “When you and dad were first married, did you drive him a little bit crazy always singing?” I'm glad he's patient with us girls. Because we sure have fun with our music. But I suppose he and the boys do, too. Or all of us, even, really. Just different music among different family members. Earlier in the morning when Joe had been listening to oldies, we were all singing along gustily to Joan Jett in I Love Rock and Roll.

Another kind of tradition we have fun with on vacations is something perhaps unique to families living in areas as flat as northwest Minnesota. When we go up and down big hills, we wave our arms in the air like we're on a roller coaster and holler, “Wheeeeeee!” Inge's a little young to have much memory of that kind of hills, since they're so rare in the areas we generally drive. When several of us waved our arms on one biggish hill, most of us yelled, “Wheeeeeee!” But Inge instead started singing “Like the ceiling can't hold us, like the ceiling can't hold us,” a line from the song by Macklemore that she's heard her sister playing.

We stopped for a quick trip at Wall to fuel up and to look around. It turned into an hour, of course, since it's hard to stop quickly at Wall Drug.

Later, we were wending our way through the Black Hills on the way to our campground, I told the story of when we had come this way on a different trip long ago. We had just four kids then, and we were camping in the area overnight on the way out to Washington to see my family. We had checked out books on the area from the library ahead of time. We had read about Mt. Rushmore and the artist, Gutzon Borglum. We had talked about the presidents and why Borglum might have chosen each of them to carve into stone, representing forever our great Land. As we got nearer and nearer the Monument, the excitement was building in the older boys. Finally we came around a curve that gave us our first glimpse of Mt. Rushmore. Matt was so excited, he couldn't get the words out fast enough. “Rount Mushmore. Mount Borglum. Gutzland Rushman!” It took him five or six tried to finally get the right words out. “Mount Rushmore! Gutzon Borglum!”

We drove a slightly different route down to Custer this trip, and only had a tiny glimpse of the mountain this time. But we'd spend a day there later in the week.

We arrived at the very quiet and peaceful National Forest Campground, Comanche Park. We breathed deeply of the heavy scent of pine. The kids and I set up the tents and sleeping areas, while Joe made supper.

Then we tucked ourselves in and slept like babies. 

The camp is set up

A Mile is a Mile is a Mile. Or Not.

When I first moved to this very remote area of Minnesota I had a hard time acclimating to the distances here.  The nearest neighbors are a mile away.  The nearest very small towns are thirteen miles away.  Cities are further yet and they are still small cities. 

I had reason to chuckle at this relativity of distance last night.  A friend who lives in the Chicago area was searching his on-line resources to see what national banks were near us.  He said, "Oh,  nope, nothing within 30 miles." 

I quickly said something like, "Oh, no, no, NO!  The closest we'd find one of those might possibly be Fargo, and that's 150 miles.  And really, the chance is slim there.  Otherwise the Twin Cities is almost 300 miles."  We get used to such distances.  But I remember when we first found out we were moving here.  We did a search, just out of curiosity, to see how far to the nearest Starbucks.  The nearest one at that time was Winnipeg, MB, Canada. 

Just out of curiosity, and to illustrate just how remote we are, I made up this little chart to give a little picture of where we live.

City (metro areas)	Miles from us	Population in 2010
Firstly, the two closest towns to us. They each have a gas station. Oklee has a local bank and a grocery store. The each have a liquor store and an eatery or two.
Oklee	13	435
Goodridge	14	132
This next round of distance. Thief River has most small city services such as a hospital and clinic, several locally owned businesses and industries, multiple gas stations, two hardware stores, a Wal-Mart and a K-Mart, and a few national chain stores. This is where we do most of our regular shopping.  There are a handful of fast food joints and another handful of full service restaurants. Fosston and Red Lake Falls each have a few gas stations, a grocery store, bank, hardware and drug stores, branch library, an industry or two, and some locally owned businesses.
Thief River Falls	26	8,573
Red Lake Falls	30	1,427
Fosston	30	1527
Following, you see, we're getting into the next level of distance, and the next level of urban convenience. Bemidji is still quite a small town, but caters to tourists, has several big box retailers, and even has its own mall. Albeit a quite small one with, I believe two or three department stores, and Minnesota State University, Bemidji. Grand Forks has a pretty nice small town mall, many big box retailers, and many of the things people consider part of city life. As you can see by the population, it's still quite a small city, but it's the big place to go for all the area towns that are much smaller. Grand Forks is home to University of North Dakota. But these towns area about 70 miles away each.  We only get to either Grand Forks or Bemidji a handful of times a year.
Bemidji	71	13,431
Grand Forks/East Grand Forks	68	98,461
Oooh, now we're really getting places. We're up into the hundreds of thousands in population. Fargo/Moorhead has a very nice mall, but still probably quite small compared to a big city shopping experience. This area has multiple hospitals and colleges and much business and manufacturing. We might or might not get to the Fargo area a time or two each year.
Fargo/Moorhead	122	216,312
The closest really big urban area is the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul, Minnesota. This area is still comparatively not as urban as many areas, ranking only the 16th in the US. We've only been to the Twin Cities perhaps 4 times in the last 12 years.
Twin cities	285	3317308
The following cities I've included only to give a reference for the next biggest metro areas near us. We do not use them for shopping unless driving through on the way elsewhere.
Winnipeg, MB, Canada	165	730,018
Bismarck,ND	315	61,272
Souix Falls, SD	378	228,261

And so you see, Sudesh, why I chuckled when you said you didn't see any within 30 miles of us.  Basically, within 30 miles, ... There is, well, nothing.  And of course I don't mean to say this nothingness ss a bad thing.  I very much love where we live.  But to those unaccustomed to such an extreme rural existence, this is rather empty.

Synod Convention Memories

Our church body, the Evengelical Lutheran Synod (ELS), has a meeting each June in Mankato, on the campus of Bethany Lutheran College.  The pastors of every congregation, plus two delegates, are the official attendees, but others can attend and listen to the papers and the business discussion. 

It's a time of reunion.  Many people bring their families.  There is also a music camp and art camp that week on the BLC campus, so older kids often attend one of those.

We haven't attended for years.  For a variety of reasons, but the one that's easiest to explain is that it's hard for Joe, with his Gluten Free diet, to stay in a hotel and eat restaurant or cafeteria food for a week.  The first year he was GF, he did attend, and camped in our little trailer and grilled on a little grill right in the parking lot.  That worked well. 

But that was many years ago now.  Many things have changed. 

Joe is planning to attend again this summer. 

The kids and I will not be joining him. 

But thinking about convention, and hearing other friends on fb talk of it, reminded me of this fun story of the the last time all of us went.  At least it's fun now.  At the time, spending the week camping in 90+ degree heat and humidity, being six months pregnant, chasing after six small children... well, it was more frustrating than fun. 

But like many things in life, it makes a good story years later.

The last time we all went, I was expecting John in September.  So Sophie would have been 1 1/2; Clara 3; Elsie 5; Louisa 7; Matt 8; and Jeremy 10.  We camped at the Land of Memories campground.  It was extremely hot and humid, which it always seems to be during convention. 

The kids and I bummed around in the park during the days.  I had two umbrella strollers, which helped to contain the littlest ones.   We took walks and explored.  We also had an enforced quiet time in the afternoons with books and quiet activities planned.  We spent a day at the playground at Sibley Park with several other young moms and kids who we had known when Joe taught at Bethany. 

By by Wednesday, I was pretty fried.  Kids were naughty and whiney.  Joe was frustrated, between trying to help me with kids and also spend time relaxing with his friends, plus the stress of whatever was going on at convention that year. 

We decided to go out for supper that night to get a little air conditioning.  This was before GF days, so we could still do that more easily than now.  We went to the Wagon Wheel.  If I remember right we were pleasantly surprised by the quality/quantity vs price for feeding a family such as ours.

After a supper of trying to keep the passel of little ones in line, in a public place, we sent the four oldest into the restroom to wash up.  Jeremy and Matt to the mens' room.  Louisa and Elsie into the womens'.  After a while, we realized that Matt and Jeremy had not returned in an acceptable amount of time.  Joe went in to check on them, to see what was going on. 

Yes.

They were playing.

With the soap.

I don't remember for sure if it was a foaming soap, or if they had simply foamed up the regular soap.

At any rate there was a sinkful of foam.  A sinkful!  Bubbling out to other surfaces.  On floors and walls and mirrors.

Joe sent them out to me.  And he cleaned up their mess.

After which we went immediately back to the campground, in a heat of anger and frustration.

And we packed up to leave.  We left Mankato at about 8:00 pm and drove home that night.  Joe just skipped the last day of the convention. 

I remember that the Northern Lights were phenomenal that night.  Really.  I've never seen anything like them since. 

I also remember that I had to wake Joe up after Akeley.  I missed the corner heading north.  In my inexperience of puling a trailer, I didn't slow down quite enough, soon enough to make the corner.  I came to a stop a few yards past the intersection. 

"No problem.  I can just back up that little ways and then head north.  There's no traffic out here at this time of night," thought I to myself.  "Besides, I used to drive tractors with trailers on Steve and Collete's dairy farm.  How different could this be?"  I figured I could handle it without waking Joe.

Yes, well, such was not the case.  In my attempt to back up those few yards, I nearly jackknifed the trailer.  So I did have to wake up Joe so he could fix the problem in his fog of sleep. 

I don't think that really helped his mood.

We made it home and all was well. 

But did I mention that we've not been to convention as a family since then.

And local another mystery to solve

How about Pelan, MN?  Can anyone help me with that mystery, too?  Pelan is an abandoned town site up toward Lake Bronson.  A township or county park is rumored to be at the former town site.  But I can't find the park on most maps, and when I drove past the area where I think the town was supposed to have been, and where a park does show up on a few maps, there does not appear to be a park at all. 

Mystery Solved! Val Hall, Rocksbury Township, Pennington County, MN

Thanks to several readers, especially Diane L, I now know where to find the mysterious and elusive community of which I wrote earlier today.  The images are screen shots courtesy of Google maps.

The green arrow is pointing just north of Val Hall

Here we are again, closer in.  Val Hall is the building on the left.  The house on the right is the one I remember having such a lovely setting.

The Townhall of Rocksbury Township is apparently called Val Hall.  I will have to drive there again, now that I know where to find it.  Turns out I only missed it by a mile.

In Search of Vahalla, or a Springtime Jaunt

I had a lovely trip into TRF last night to deposit Joe's paycheck.  The weather was perfect.  The music on the radio was a good fit for my mood.  I took the backroads.  Pure fun.  But I have to tell you, I was feeling just a smidgeon nervous by the time I got home.  I like to think I'm brave.  But it's sometimes easy to confuse brave with foolhardy.  Especially in the spring.

Here's how it happened.

I was looking for this little place I found once out in the country between Pennington/140th Ave, and US59; and Center Street and TRF.  It was a cute little township hall or school house or something, with several other farm sites on the adjacent land.  I think it was called something like Valhalla, but I'm not sure.  It's almost as if it was some time warp thing I slid into.  Another dimension or something.  I've never been able to find that spot again, and it doesn't show up on any county maps or township lists or anything.

The only thing I remember from that accidental find is that I had been on 59, going north, behind some sort of slow moving vehicle, with oncoming traffic or poor visibility or something that deterred me from passing.  So I turned off instead.  And discovered this cute little place.  And have never seen it since. 

The parameters I've described do not mark a very big area.  Maybe six or seven miles long and, because 59 goes at a diagonal, the width starts at about five miles wide and tapers to a triangle at TRF.  So really, really, with the pretty much perfectly square mile roads in this part of Minnesota, there are not that many places it could have been.  It's as if Valhalla was never really there. 

So last night, on an unplanned trip into town, with no real time frame or rush binding me, and after having cared for sick kids all day, I did a little exploring. 

On the way into town, by the time I got near the Casino, I was again behind someone going kind of slowly, and I didn't want to follow him all the way into Thief River.  I turned off and so began my adventure.  I found St. Pauli church, and a paved road I didn't know was there.  But that was the extend of my outgoing travels.

I turned north at the church and followed the paved road until it again joined 59 at that funky angle.  It was a pleasant little drive and I saw and learned some new things.  But it wasn't Valhalla.

After picking up a few things at Wal-Mart, depositing Joe's check, and filling the car with gas, I headed south out of town on Pennington.  I was bound and determined to find Valhalla. 

I passed the corner by Challenger, since I know where that road goes.  No mystery there.  I passed the first mile road, since I didn't think there was any mystery there.  I feels too close to town for my memory.

I passed the next mile road, since that's the one that goes to the Smiley bridge eventually.  I know that one, too.  The next mile, the one that should come out where the road curves past the airport, ... I don't think it goes through.  I'll have to check next time.  It's on the map, but I don't remember it. 

So I took the next one.

By that time, I had curved back to the west, so I felt kind of stupid meandering around out of the way, just for this silly notion I have about some cute place.  But, as I said, I was determined.  And the music was good.  The DJ had promised Miranda Lambert's new song, Mama's Broken Heart, which always make me smile.  It's such a fun song. 

Shortly after I turned east, the anticipated song came on, and I cranked up the volume.  I had opened my window while driving around town, and hadn't bothered to shut it.  So I felt kind of silly.  But I was loving every minute.  I felt like a teenager, which I kind of needed after caring for a sick child all day.

The sun was going down, but the light was still good.  The road was open.  The air was filled with the flavors of spring.  And the song was loud and fun. 

But suddenly there were ruts.  Deep ruts.  I heard the car bottom out.  Oh, shoot.  I guess I better slow down and stop cutting loose.  Like in the song, I guess.  I better hide my crazy and act like a lady.

I debated whether to stop and look at the underside of the car, but I figured I wouldn't really know what I was looking for anyway, ... Oh dear. 

I did stop briefly at the next intersection.  Kind of sat for a minute.  I figured in case something was leaking out the bottom, I'd give it a chance to make a puddle.  Then when I pulled forward, I'd see it in the mirror, right?

No puddle, so I guessed all was good.

"Hmm, I think that this must be about where Brian and Beth live.  Maybe I should stop and have Brian look underneath there."

And soon, sure enough, I saw their house up ahead.  To stop or not to stop?

"It looks pretty quiet there.  It's about 9:00.  They're probably trying to get kids settled down," I thought to myself.  "I've been OK so far.  If there was something badly wrong, wouldn't I know it by now?"

And so I drove past.  I did, however, turn my radio down before I got there.  THAT would have been totally embarrassing.

"What is that noise, Brian?"
"Some obnoxious teens out blaring their speakers."
"Wait! Look!"
"That was Mary!"

And so I came once again to 59.  And here is where I did the thing that probably defies common sense.  But hey.  I had been dealing with puke all day.  I really, really needed a little fun.

I continued east across 59.  At twilight.  Roads I had never traveled.  With a car that had bottomed out on the ruts a few minutes before.

In my defense, as I've said, the roads are all square.  Except where the river goes through.  I knew that as far south as I was, I'd get to the Kratka road and even, if the road went through, to the High Landing road before getting to the river.  I figured I was good.  What could go wrong?  I mean, even if something did happen, the people here are Minnesota nice.  I'd just ask for help at the nearest place. 

And so I drove on.  Window still open.  Music loud during the good songs.  The smells of spring filling the car.  The sights of spring filling my view.

It gave me wonderful sense of freedom and optimism.  And adventure.  Anything could happen, right?  What might I see?  What might I find?

I came to the Kratka road.  I briefly considered turning back toward familiar roads.  But I decided to stay on my little back road.  I knew the river would be up ahead.  I suspected that I'd have to turn south soon.  I knew there ought to be one more mile of east-west road between me and the highway.  I hoped that it was not too little a road.  I really, really was not ready for the highway yet.

One mile after the Kratka road, I came to the turn.  One of those places where to continue on would take me onto a minimum maintenance road.  Probably also a dead end, since I knew the river was angling south towards the River Valley Bridge.  So I tuned to the south for one mile, and then again went east.  I knew where I was, of course.  I was one mile north of the highway, and I could watch the road signs to keep track of each passing mile.  I know 290th is the Oklee road.  I was coming to an area I know, even if I'd never been on this particular stretch of road.

All was good in Mary's world.

Except that suddenly it was dark.

Then there wasn't much to look at.  There was a kind of deep ditch following along the right hand side of the road.  The road became minimum maintenance.  The ruts got bigger.  And there were no more farm places to run to in case something happened.

I started seeing things.  The deepening shadows became bears.  Or boogie men.  Or maybe cougars, out prowling for their supper. 

There were a few deer out, so I had to slow way down and keep a sharp eye.  I could just imagine hitting a deer out here in the middle of nowhere.

Or what if there was something falling apart from when I bottomed out?  What if it wasn't bad enough to cause a problem until just now?  Here.  Far from anything.

I watched the road signs.  I saw when I was on the north side of the section where Tyler lives.  Next I came to the north side of the section with the poplars across from Quinten and Alyssa's, that Tyler and Ryan are clearing.

I could see the radio tower.  Just over there.  Getting nearer.

I knew where I was.  I knew I could find someone if I needed.

But a whole section.  That's a mile.  I'd have to wander in the dark and lonesome night a whole mile before getting to any homes.

I began to see the folly of my actions.

I must admit that I breathed a big, giant sigh of relief when I hit the High Landing road.  And I gladly stayed on the tar the rest of the way home.

I had a little fun.  I lived a little dangerously.  I breathed the spring air.  I saw the spring.  The sides of the roadways and pastures are greening up.  The tractors are sitting out where fieldwork is beginning.  I was home safely.

But I never did find Valhalla.  Maybe next time.