The Great Northern Route: deel vijf

Day 4: The last, desperate surge
I was delighted to find that La Quinta had also gone the way of the DIY waffle station. Here, however, you were required to fill your own cup with batter, as opposed to having lots of premeasured cups at hand. I made a terrible miscalculation and ended up with only 3/4 of a waffle. Still, better than 0/4 waffle.

We were out of the parking lot at early dawn, and I carefully navigated us past icy patches in the gloaming. There was a bit of a…discussion prior to leaving concerning the apportioning of driver duties for the day, as foreshadowed ad nauseum in earlier posts. This left me grumpy and taciturn for most of the day.

Eastern Washington is largely ranch land, with some farms scattered here and there along the roadside. It is high desert, meaning that it is a desert environment at an elevated altitude. I was reminded of the lava fields of Hawai’i in some areas, as the rolling hills often appeared to be studded with rocks, such that a lot of work would need to be done before plowing was attempted. It was not the landscape that I expected, as I somehow thought that Washington was completely covered in temperate rainforest. That is only the column of land from the Seattle region on up North into BC.

The wind had picked up a lot by the time I turned the reins over to Jill. Even as the passenger, I could feel the car being affected by the gusts. The day was partly sunny, but we did go through some sprinkles and completely overcast areas. As we approached the Columbia River (which ends just west of Portland, OR) the landscape became more dramatically carved. These foothills are serious business. The river gorge itself was just spectacular. It’s a wide river, and the I-90 bridge offers a fantastic view, although I wondered if we were going to be blown off of the bridge.

After the Columbia River, the Cascades began. I kept checking the map to see how close we were to Snoqualmie. We didn’t speak much during this time, but we were both thinking of the same thing: what if something happens up there? Will we be stranded for a while? Is this place far removed from support services? What about Elaine, does she have enough x, y, and z to make it through a long stoppage?

Finally, we were about 10 miles from the pass. We drove under a huge system that was parked over the mountains, and our blue skies disappeared. A large electronic sign informed us that traction tires were required on the pass, and to expect slush and snow. We kept passing houses and trailer parks that were built near the freeway exits. A third lane opened up. We passed a building advertising towing services. And then…we were there, at the summit, and…and…and there was a ski lodge right at the top. It’s a freaking tourist destination!. Furthermore, there was no twisty curving or tricky driving. As Jill said, one could see that if there was a heavy snowfall, that it would need to be dealt with, but this was nothing compared with Idaho.

A few minutes after cresting the summit, we had come back out into the sunshine. We were about 40 minutes from Seattle.

We reached I-5 and headed north for home.

When we arrived, there was much jubilation. We also faced some unfortunate realities: the house was about 45 degrees inside, and we would be sleeping on the floor for at least two more nights. Still, we had arrived home – our OWN home – and we were ready to get started building our new lives.

However, before we could get started with that, a flock of enormous crows surged down from the trees and attacked us. They pecked and clawed and tore with their strong beaks, until we had succumbed to the inevitability of death. My last, red-stained sight in this world was seeing poor Elaine being almost lovingly carried off by a monstrous crow, about 8 feet from talons to tuft. I think they mean to raise here as a crow-girl. I'm sure she'll be very good at it, if she sets her mind to it.

Sorry that I didn't get any pictures of the crows.


High desert of Washington, approaching the Cascades


Finally!


Elaine's (and my) first ferry ride, as we head to Jill's cousins place at the Naval base in Bremerton, across the Sound

The Great Northern Route: das vierte Teil

Day 3: Punching through to Spokane
The Billings Days Inn had the same complementary breakfast as the one in Wall, with one crucial difference: waffles. There was a waffle batter dispenser flanked by a tiny fleet of 3 waffle irons. In mere minutes, a sleepy traveler can sit down to a piping hot, crispy, malty waffle without having to humor a misanthropic waitperson with the illusion of civility or class. Waffles, people!

We got the car packed and got out just as the sky was lightening. I was Driver One on this lovely Sunday morning, and I was ready for the worst. Gwen had warned of some “difficult driving” in Idaho, so I was worried that some of the Montana passes would pose difficulty, as well. Leaving Billings, the blacktop was smooth and flat, but disconcertingly dusted with frost in some areas. As the sun rose in the northeast behind us, we were treated to an increasingly interesting view.

If you ever visit Montana, you must drive on I-90 West. Obviously, I-90 East offers a similar view, but when you travel west, the view gets better and better as you go. Montana ranks with Hawai’i (Big Island), Oregon (between Crater Lake and the coast, along the Umquah river), and the stretch of Blue Ridge Parkway between Boone, NC and Asheville, NC, as the most beautiful landscapes that I have encountered in the United States. I have yet to see the American Southwest, so this is by no means a complete list.


Approaching a monolithic front that stretched left to right as far as the eye could see at our first Montana ridge

I drove from Billings to Missoula, nearly the entire Montana trip. I felt kind of bad for Jill, as she only had the side view, but I later realized that she had planned to let me drive until we were close to the “difficult driving”, at which point she would take over. Now I don’t feel so bad. Nearly the entire time, I was murmuring “Whoa!”, and, “Man!”, and, “Wow!” as the spectacle unfolded, shaking my head in wonder.

I’ve never seen valleys as wide as those in Montana. This means that, even though you are in the mountains, you still get the Big Sky effect of the plains states. In many areas, I-90 runs on a plateau in the middle of the valley, and I often felt really vulnerable to the occasional high winds that would sweep across the road. The speed limit was 75, so I drove 80 mph for most of the leg. I wish that we could have taken more time. We passed scenes of buffalo drinking at a crystal blue river that wound through grass-tufted mounds, majestic, steel-blue mountain vistas in every direction, raptors hunting overhead among the mammoth lumbering clouds against a deep blue sky, and the broad, unfenced expanse of the valley floor, and I was completely in love.


Whoa, man, and wow


Another cool feature of the I-90 view: we shared the route with many very long trains, some distant and some near


We pulled into Butte for lunch, and got somewhat reacquainted with the ugliness of civilization before making for Missoula. There was somewhat more ice on the road in the shady patches, but the roads were in otherwise fantastic shape. We checked back with Gwen before making for Idaho, and were told that the highway was colored red on the online traffic map, with a descriptor of “snow, slush and ice on the roadway”. We decided that late afternoon was a better option than first thing in the morning, since there would likely be more ice after a night of sub-zero temps, so we went for it.


Lunching in Butte, Boogerbutt gets in some driving lessons

Most of Idaho on I-90 felt like it was overpass, with guardrails almost constantly in evidence to the left and right. This was a driving nightmare, all curves and hills, slush, and ice. Many drivers felt that they were invincible, and hurtled past us, throwing up water and ice. These included semis, Hummers, and Ford Escorts, demonstrating that idiocy is universal. The scariest moment came when a driver, attempting to pass us, spun out of control at our rear bumper and nearly hit us. I didn’t see it happen, and he was out of sight when I turned to look. It didn’t look like he caused further trouble, since two vehicles appeared around the bend a moment later. This was the most treacherous driving of the trip, and Jill handled it admirably.

While we didn’t take any pictures, I can report that the I-90 view of Idaho is quite dazzling. The road cuts through some unbelievable passes, with mountain rising up like walls at the roadside, covered with menacing, dark green conifers and dusted with snow. I would like to see it in summer.

We rolled into Spokane Valley at around 6pm. After checking in at a really nice La Quinta Inn and Suites, I went for some Thai takeout. As we reflected that evening on the days passage, we felt like we had survived some serious trouble, but Snoqualmie was on our minds. The last two reports said that traction tires (i.e. NOT performance slicks) were required, suggesting that they would be checking. Of course, one small snowfall and they could be requiring chains.

Did conditions worsen?
Did Jill and I argue about who would be driving through the pass?
Did we DIE???
Tune in tomorrow!

The Great Northern Route - Part Tres

Day 2: Passage into Montana
The night’s sleep at the motel was wonderful, as it involved a very large and comfortable bed, as opposed to the floor or the cramped backseat of a car. Elaine got a bath, and we got the car packed up. We were moving slowly, however, as we were the very last car out of the parking lot that morning. By the time we did our lightning-strike stop at Wall Drug (which the entire town was built around), it was approaching 11am.

Jill: "We have to hurry, because the cats are in the car. Someone might call animal control on us!" Didn't she see the billboard yesterday? South Dakotans REJECT animal activists. Punch line, I never got that picture of me sipping my 5-cent coffee.


I should take a moment to mention our navigation support team. First, there is Garmin, the state-of-the-art-but-not-top-of-the-line GPS device that we purchased on the way out of town. Garmin helped us to find food, gas, and gave directions through moderate-sized towns like Rapid City. Second, Jill spent many minutes on the phone with her sister Gwen, who was tracking weather systems online for us. Thanks to Gwen, we had a sense of what the driver requirements were in various passes along the trip, and of whether or not to attack them or take a night off.

Jill took over the initial driving duties. The roads had patchy ice and slush, but the sky was clear and sunny. We passed many abandoned cars along the side of the road, pointed in various directions, in the first 10 miles past Wall, indicating that our instinct to pack it in the night before was fortunate. I snoozed most of the way to Rapid City, where we spent too much time at a Wal*Mart getting some provisions.

The countryside began to appear more rugged as we left South Dakota. Farms had to get more creative with the landscape, and ranching was more in evidence. We passed many oil wells along the road – tiny ones, like little drinky-birds, stood 20 feet tall or so. There were also more icy patches as the terrain became more hilly. Due to the oblique aspect of the winter sun, many parts of the roadway never get sunlight, even on the clearest of days, so any ice remains much longer.

Refreshed, I took over driving in Buffalo, WY, where I-90 and I-25 merge for a time. We were already farther north than in Ann Arbor, and on the edge of mountains, so the days end rather abruptly around 4:30. Our previous, optimistic estimate was to make for Missoula, on Montana’s western edge. At 3:30, headed north, we revised our plans to get to Butte, around the middle of the Montana leg. I encountered my first ice a few minutes outside of Buffalo. It was a steady climb through foothills toward the Montana border, and the icy patches became icy lanes. As the rises and falls became steeper, and the day grew darker, the bare road was reduced to a single strip in the passing lane.

Most cars stayed in the passing lane, keeping the two driver’s side tires in the bare strip. Traffic still flowed at about 55mph, and I was being passed by people in the all-icy lane. My hope was that when we crossed into Montana, the roads would be better. I hoped in vain.

The ice was knobby and gnarled, like a lava flow, and clearly wasn’t going anywhere soon. The Montana D.O.T. had scattered sand all over the roadway, which had gotten embedded in the ice, and probably enhanced traction. However, it also made the entire width of the road a uniform brown. It was often difficult to see any lane stripes, including the white line on the edge of the road.

Throughout this leg, Jill was quite unhappy with my decision to continue at the prevailing traffic speed, and she said that it would be “absolutely fine” with her if I slowed to 40-45 and employed my hazard lights. As a general rule of safety, she was right, but I felt little slipping, and I simply wanted to be out of this pass before full dark. This 40-mile stretch ranked highly among the more harrowing driving that I have ever attempted, given the precious cargo. This, not coincidentally, was the last mountain pass that Jill would permit me to captain on the trip.

As full dark arrived, the road abruptly flattened, and we were going 80 mph again on a clear, black freeway. We were in Billings within the hour, and we decided that that was enough for one day. Garmin found us another Day’s Inn (they tend to have a handful of pet-friendly rooms available), and we took our rest.

A Photographic Interlude

The punchline to the trip is that we made it, so there.

"Thee Phurther Adventures of..." will return tomorrow.

Here's some pics to get up to date with our story:

Prior to the farewell party at Mustafa and Kathy's on Sunday, we had folks over for a help-us-drink-all-of-our-alcohol party.



This stuff is amazing. Italian Cham-pag-nay!


Elaine wonders, "What happened to all the stuff?"



Very sad and fond farewell to the mighty Polypterus. We hope you enjoy your new home.


The night before the departure. Sleeping on the floor sucks.


Nestled in at Wall, SD.

The Great Northern Route, Part Deux

Leaving, Day 1

After Jill’s skillful packing of the car, we loaded Zoe, Arya, and Elaine into their respective slots for the trip. The cats were stacked in separate carriers in the front seat. Elaine was in the middle of the back seat, attended by an adult on one side. Thus, the non-driver could not see the road ahead, and the driver could not see the view to the right. This was fine for the first day, as we took turns driving and sleeping for about 22 hours. Jill took the first shift, from Ann Arbor to the suburbs beyond Chicago. I got us to Minnesota, and Jill went about 4 hours to dawn. I had about an hour of Minnesota and 2 hours of South Dakota. A few hours later, Jill ran into some bad weather and called 511. They recommended no travel west of Rapid City, which was less than an hour away, so we pulled off and booked a room at the Day’s Inn in Wall, SD.

In a bit more detail…Elaine and I snoozed for the first leg of the journey. The cats had their say, in turns, to register their dissatisfaction with the suite of decisions that had landed them in carriers. Jill, having not slept for about 41 hours, crashed out for the second leg. Thus, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, and Wisconsin were resolved with a minimum of fuss. Dry roads and light traffic made it a swift and pleasant night. However, as I approached Minnesota, a fog had begun to settle in, particularly after crossing the Mississippi. So the third leg ended up being quite difficult for Jill, as she strained to see through the pea soup. She says that she tried waking me a few times, but that I was just completely out.

When I took over Minnesota duties, it was just barely dawn and still a bit foggy. Flat and farmy, there wasn’t much in the way of a view. Eventually, as the light increased, I was able to make out larger stretches of the landscape. Ghostly wind farms rose out of the rolling hills, white steel on white mist. Faint red barns emerged through the haze, and traffic picked up. All was quietly beautiful. Then, we entered the strangeness that is South Dakota.

South Dakota contains the Badlands, Mount Rushmore, and the geographical center of North America. I-90 runs basically E->W through the center of the state, which is mostly flat. But somehow, it’s flat in a pretty way. I actually enjoyed the view, although I can see that it would get old if you had to drive it regularly. Still, it beats the Ohio Turnpike, or really anywhere in Ohio. South Dakota is the billboard capital of the United States. I don’t actually know that that is true, but they must have more billboards and signs, per capita, at least, than anywhere else. One interesting hand-painted sign declared, “South Dakotans reject animal activists! Meat, fur, and livestock are OUR ECONOMY”.

Roughly one third (my estimate) of South Dakota billboards are generated by Wall Drug, a drugstore in Wall, South Dakota. An interesting feature of the Wall Drug billboards is the absence of any reference to the location of Wall Drug. A sign with a picture of a rodeo cowboy says simply, “Giddy Up! Wall Drug”. Another with a cowboy roping a doggie says, “Dally Up! Wall Drug”. Then there’s the famous “Free Ice Water! Wall Drug”, as well as the signs disclaiming that Wall Drug has received the attention of the New York Times and Time magazine. “This sign in Kenya, Africa – Wall Drug” indicates that South Dakota is not alone in its billboard-associated reverence of Wall Drug.

When Jill encountered harsh, blowing winds and snow on her shift, we located the nearest pet-friendly hotel. Was it fate, or chance, that the Days Inn we found was in Wall, SD? Fate? Or Chance? Fate….? Anyway, we got some crappy food at the Cactus Bar (seriously, the food totally sucked. What’s the deal, Cactus Bar? They can’t even make a decent sausage gravy, and there’s a SIGN on the outside of the building raving about how they have biscuits and gravy. Your gravy sucks. Sorry you had to hear it here. Hope you had a great Christmas.) and got a decent night’s sleep. I practiced putting chains on the car the next morning, in anticipation of the dreaded Snoqualmie Pass in the Cascades. We also had our first of three free hotel breakfasts that day. This was easily the worst. Also, I saw a guy who had a dreadlock mullet. Seriously, a white dude with dreads, except the top front part was all teased up and short. Really bizarre. To be fair, since this was a bit of a touristy spot, he could have been from North Dakota.

After a brief stop at Wall Drug, which, as you’d expect, has five times more space devoted to hideous souvenirs than to drug store items, we hit the road again.

To be continued…


(pictures forthcoming once we get a bit more organized)

The Great Northern Route = 21 pts

Packing

Our packing adventure was based upon the fallacy that it is easier to only pack the things that you need. That is, to prune down your possessions to a manageable size will facilitate the packing process. Instead, it leads to a kind of paralysis, where you put off difficult decisions until the time of the move. In our case, this effect was exacerbated by Jill’s insane schedule, Elaine’s understandable neediness, and my keen ability to procrastinate, which combined to prevent our boxing up of our possessions until the week before the move.

We used ABF, or U-Pack. This outstanding company, which I unreservedly recommend, drops off a trailer one day, and picks it up a few days later. We used about 13 feet of this truck for our belongings. The truck arrived on Friday. I got up early on Saturday, and made sure that I was ready to go. My dad and brother showed up to help with the loading. We had loaded the heavy furniture and most of the boxes in a few hours. Of course, I had not yet packed up the kitchen, bathrooms, clothes, nursery, or basement. So we stayed up all night Saturday packing the various rooms. By morning, it was clear that we had only just made a dent. Also, there was a bit of a blizzard going on outside. The latter detail meant that my dad and mom couldn’t make it, so Elaine was without a sitter. We did the best we could over the course of the day and night, and by pre-dawn Monday, I felt that we were ready to get the truck packed up.

Unfortunately, the lack of sleep had taken its toll. I carried quite a few things out to the truck, but I couldn’t see how to pack it efficiently. Total brain lock. So I called my parents and brother for assistance. Jim stood in the truck calling out what he needed. “Big boxes. Flat boxes. Anything shaped like the letter K.” I carried everything out to him, and we had the truck packed, using a 13.5 x 8 x 9 volume, by 3pm, with the bulkhead rammed in tight. After verifying that the paperwork was in order and the truck on its way, I got some much-needed sleep.

Early the next morning, we rented a 14’ U-Haul truck to dispose of the rest of the stuff in the house. This process turned out to be much more of a chore than expected. We had three stops to make: First, the Food Gatherers to drop off our unopened non-perishables; second, the Salvation Army to donate our furniture, kitchen goods, etc.; and third, the Ann Arbor ReUse/Recycle Center. It took several hours to load the truck, and I made a poor job of it again, such that a second trip would be necessary. The Salvation Army was decidedly picky about the donations, and I ended up with much more of a load to take to the Recycling center.

At the Recycling center, I encountered a very special group of people, starting with Cathy (I think). Here’s the setup: I’m pulling into the center with a U-Haul about half-full of a wide variety of stuff. Cathy was working the guard/payment booth. I pulled in and told her that she’d probably want to take a look, since there are charges for a variety of items. Ann Arbor only allows a certain amount of free garbage pickup at your home each week, so any excess needs to be saved for the next week or taken to the center for disposal. They charge about $2 per large black bag, plus fees for large items like TVs or computers. Many people are taken aback by the charges, but I like the idea of actually paying for the service. Seems more sustainable than having the center be subject to the whims of city/county/state budgets.

So Cathy was pleased that I knew the drill, and was pleasant about it. I got out and opened the back of the truck and bantered a bit while she ogled my disposable goods. She ended up snagging a few items and taking them to her car before giving me directions on where to take things. I headed into the recycling part, where a long-haired fellow explained to me about the difference between cardboard and greyboard. I quickly learned to separate all of the different types of paper goods, and I disposed of several boxes of bottles. Cathy took another look at the truck and found another gem or two for her collection. It’s not like I was throwing away crap—we just didn’t have room on the truck. I had to double back through the gate to go up to the refuse bins, and Cathy stopped me to say that I had made her day by being pleasant and positive. I returned the sentiment and headed for the tip-in area. As I was lugging my 20 or so heavy trash bags to the bin, one by one, a gentleman driving a mini-dozer pulled right up to the back of the truck and raised the scoop up to floor level. All I had to do was pitch the bags off the back of the truck. I suspect Cathy sent him over to help me out.

Since the center would be closing in an hour, I returned the truck to U-Haul, where I reserved a cargo van for the next morning. That evening, we went to Mustafa and Kathy’s for a nice going away dinner. Joanna, Jonathan and Emilie were all there, and great merriment ensued. It is really tough to leave people.

The next day, Mustafa had to come by the house to pick up the famous Johnsen family sourdough starter, and ended up with a few other things that we were “donating” or “foisting upon” them. He jumped in and helped me to load the van, and then volunteered to ride along. Thus, he got to experience firsthand the friendly and scavengy nature of the kind Recycle center folks. This time, Cathy and a few other workers there ended up with our ex-household items. Cathy fairly filled her car with loot. After bidding farewell to Mustafa, I made one more trip with the van, and then turned it in. Several hours and many trash bags later, we had finally reached the point where we could pack the car. It was 5:30pm on Thursday.

To be continued

going off the grid

As of some undetermined time today, I will be cut off from the electronic teat. Reconnection occurs on Dec. 26. Be strong.

The Slow Decline Into Gray

In case you haven't guessed, the great 2007 Pack-a-thon is in full swing. I have been performing triage on various aspects of our household goods, and creating nearly as many donation boxes as keeper boxes. We're doing a "load it your own damn self" deal, where they drop off a semi trailer (that's a lorry trailer to the UK contingent) and we have a few days to pack it. Today, my family came over to help load most of the heavy stuff (books, furniture). Tonight, we'll try to get most of the rest of the house into boxes so that tomorrow we can just mindlessly lug things out to the truck.

Did I mention the blizzard? Well, there's not one yet; it's merely snowing. But the National Weather Service warns of "blizzard-like conditions" in the morning, following an evening of approximately 5 inches of snowfall. That should keep us cool as we work.

I had thought that we would be slipping out of Michigan prior to the crappy winter, since it usually starts getting really sucky around Christmastime, but now I'm convinced that Michigan Winter actively dislikes me and my plan, and did resolve to be as sucky as possible starting on Thanksgiving day and continuing until we leave the state.

OK, back to work with me. May you all have a safe and happy holiday, and I'll see you on the other side.