21 August 2013 - Lake Superior

Today was an opportunity to rise early and join the sun in greeting the morning.  We were able to make it outside about the time the sun rose in splendor over the water. The first blush of pink was tinting the sky, then our source of warmth and light appeared.  We watched it drift through dawn clouds and stream a river of pink across the water.  We enjoyed a wonderful splendor with gentle breezes and warm temperatures.

After a nice morning walk in light drops of rain, we left to explore the north shore of Lake Superior.  There is an expressway leading from Duluth to Canada, be we decided to stray off that road and onto the side roads closer to the shoreline.  Near Duluth, the lake edge is dotted with estates and old homes, each of which has an unobstructed view across this arm of the lake and into Wisconsin.  We turned a corner and discovered a delightful candy shop, with delicious homemade treats and further along a Scandinavian gift shop.  We spent time looking around, but most of all talking with the shop owners about what to do and see, food and crafts.  We bought some wild rice to fix at home and some memory items.

Further along we passed streams flowing into the lake, creating waterfalls and small beaches.  The area is resting on a deep, old lava flow which drops off into the water with sharp cliffs .  One rocky point was the site of a tragic ship sinking in 1906 during one of the terrible winter storms, so a lighthouse was built to warn ships.  It has become a landmark.

We eventually turned about and returned to our hotel and watched the lake turn from a uniform morning gray to bright blue.  As we left to go to dinner, a full flotilla of sailboats emerged under the bridge and scattered onto the lake, raising sails and spreading out in all directions.  It has been a beautiful stay in Duluth.

20 August 2013 - Minnesota

We have decided not to rush things or fatigue us, so today we traveled only 240 miles to Duluth, MN. Tonight we are staying at a lovely place right on the shore of massive Lake Superior.  Our view out the window is spectacular, like being on the shore of the ocean, only the wave action is less.  However, information indicates that in foul weather, the waves on this Great Lake become taller than those of the ocean and closer together.  With a bad Nor'easter, the lake is very dangerous.  Right now it is calm and sailboats are coasting about and a large freighter is anchored offshore.  Tomorrow, we plan to explore the coast of this beautiful lake in further detail.

Our drive today took us through lush and fertile farmland.  We elected to leave the freeway and drive the smaller roads.  We were treated to acres and acres of wheat, corn, sunflowers, beets, potatoes and beans. Here the hay is harvested into large rolls wrapped in a plastic collar and left to mature in the fields.   I am reminded of giant, truncated tootsie rolls scattered at random by a large, careless, child.

We have traveled from the deserts of Idaho and Utah, into the towering mountains around Yellowstone, across Montana's expanse and through the carved badlands of North Dakota.  Now the terrain is so much more green and water is abundant, even though people here feel that it has been dry this year.  Now when we have arrived in the eastern portion of Minnesota, in contrast, we find they feel it has been too cool and wet to be comfortable.  Today has been the hottest day of the year and our waitress declared she was delighted with the warmth.  We have found the fields to be lush, productive and lovely.  Streams abound and much of the land is under dry farming, relying on the moisture that the Lord, in his mercy, gives them.

Once again we are impressed with the wonderful variety of this magnificent country, its productivity and that so many people are honest, hard working, common folk, intent on doing the best they can and providing for themselves and their families.  We have to remember how much of goodness is in this country.  It is also interesting that across the country, so far, I have had nothing but positive comments on my bumper sticker.  As we get closer to the liberal bastions, we will see what happens.

19 August 2013 - Fargo, ND

We did not travel a great distance today.  In the beautiful morning hours, after a spattering of lightning punctuated rain last night, we drove the short distance to the Bismark Temple. We had hoped to do a session, but it is a small temple and is closed on Mondays.   The temple area is lovely, set among quiet residential streets, on a hill surrounded by typically lovely and well-kept grounds.  Since we went there knowing it was closed, we made it the starting point for a brisk walk.  It was a bright, clear-sky morning and we were uplifted by the exercise.

After leaving the motel, we pulled onto the freeway and set the cruise control.  We passed open farmland, stretching miles in either direction, an open view not closed or limited by mountains or cities.  Little towns, clustered around churches and grain silos passed quickly.  Then, to our delight, we started to see huge fields carpeted with sunflowers, all facing east and soaking up the light.  They so caught our fancy, that we pulled off the freeway at Driscoll, ND, and drove the back roads to find the golden acres.  These were not the little blooms we find along Utah's rural roads, but the big sunflower heads, heavy with ripening seeds, waiting to become a snack, bird nourishment or possibly oil.  We have never seen so many, so well-tended and beautiful. 

Our side trip left us entering Fargo, ND in the afternoon, and feeling tired, we decided to not go further but find a nice place to have a bit longer respite.  Our journey has been so nice thus far.

Sunflowers are some of Ronda's favorite sights and these made her very happy.  I love to see her enjoy something so much a product of the earth and weather.  It brightened her day and mine.

August 18, 2013 - North Dakota

This Sunday, as is our practice when traveling, we started the day by attending church in the Glendive Ward, in Glendive, Montana.  They meet in the stake center for the Glendive Stake, which is about 300 miles in diameter.  The Stake President has to travel 110 miles from his home to get to the stake offices. Presiding over such a large area is a challenge, but much of it is done over Skype and conference calls.  It was also fun to learn that the ward is growing rapidly due to the influx of people caused by the oil and gas boom.  The meetings were great and the spirit the same as we find throughout the world.  It confirms again the brotherhood of Gospel unity.

After meetings, we hit the road and drove out of Montana and into North Dakota. Just over the border we turned off to visit the Theodore Roosevelt National Park.  His ranch is in the park and he came here often to rejuvenate his soul and after the death of his wife and mother (on the same sad day) to find comfort and solace.  He loved the green grasslands and the carved hills and crevasses of the Dakota Badlands.  Now this area is a national park, beautiful in its own rugged way and home to a variety of wildlife.

This prairie dog is alertly watching a coyote saunter into town.

                                                    Wild horses surveying the  distance.

The terrain is somewhat similar to Utah, but greener and thus appears softer and more flowing.  Wildflowers are in abundance, yellows and whites and although we think the real spectacular show has past, we enjoyed the persistent representatives.

Bison lounged in the grass, eagles flew overhead and buckskin colored mule deer feasted on the lush browse.  We had been told that elk roamed the park, but we did not glimpse them.  We loved the spectacular vistas and could feel the sense of serenity that Roosevelt must have embraced.  It is a lovely park and was worth the visit.

Leaving the park, we rolled back onto the freeway and had a pleasant drive to Bismark, ND.  We soon emerged from the badlands and onto the wavelike hills of the high plains country.  It is fruitful farm country, dotted here and there with oil wells and isolated small towns.  The route is nearly straight and an easy drive.  We could see for miles and watched long lightening bolts flash from rain curtains of scattered storms.  The sunset was washed with pinks, golds and purple.  It was a beautiful day and our appreciation for all that God has given us is great.  Tomorrow, we continue east.

Aug 17, 2013, Montana

Yesterday we had a marvelous experience of leaving Jackson, WY and traveling through the length of Teton National park and then through Yellowstone National Park.  This area is one of my most favorite places on earth. I have wonderful memories of trips as a boy and as an adult.  I love the beauty of the area, the trees and meadows and the geysers, the wildlife and just the feel of it.  Every time it makes me feel good, even if we have to contend with construction now and then. We went to the north end of the park and then traveled over Beartooth Pass to Red Lodge, MT.  What a spectacular drive!  We rose to almost 11000 feet to go over the pass and the view was beyond description.  Even the wildflowers seemed to have a special glow.

 These are fire weed near the top of the pass.

 Today we crossed most of the state of Montana, following along the serene Yellowstone River and tracing the path of the Lewis and Clark Expedition.  We stopped to learn about Pompey's Pillar, which contains the only actual physical trace of the expedition, Clark's engraved name on the sandstone.  These high plains are lovely and at times we could picture them back in the early 1800's. Tonight we are staying in Glendive, MT and will go to church here.  It has been a great trip so far.

Here is the view of Pompey's Pillar, it looks over the Yellowstone River and is now a peaceful spot, inhabited by National Monument personnel.

Tomorrow, after church, we plan to venture into North Dakota, home of the Bad Lands.

WE LOVE AMERICA - WYOMING

As we near the end of this marvelous trip, we found a comfortable place to stay in Cheyenne, Wyoming, marred only by the fact that when we sought out a place to eat, all the restaurants were packed with lines of waiting diners, salivating for the chance to have the next open table and indulge in gustatory fantasies. Rather than hang out in a prolonged state of anticipation, we elected to hit Arby's and had a pleasant meal together back in our room.
The next morning dawned clear, clean and bright as we began the final day of driving. The Yukon was filled with gas, checked and ready to roll. Leaving this cowboy town, we powered up the on-ramp to the quintessential American Freeway, I-80 and headed west. We rode through the rising foothills of the majestic Rocky Mountains. Fields and crops gave way to sagebrush, rolling, open hills and increasing stands of dark green pines. The Medicine Bow Mountains, one of the many ranges in the Rockies, opened before us with infinite vistas, deep blue skies and wisps of streaky white clouds brushed onto the horizon.



I-80, that twisting, concrete and asphalt ribbon that stretches from coast to coast, led us higher and higher into the mountains. Each hill we crested led to short downward coasting stretches of road then on to another climb, even higher than the one before. At last we reached the summit and indeed, the highest point on the entire length of this great, country connector. It was fitting that a visitor center and monument had been erected on that very spot. One might be surprised that a bust of Lincoln dominates this location. Back in the 1930's, a visionary man dreamed of a coast to coast highway and his wish was realized when the nation built just such a road, the first ever in this land to reach from the Atlantic to the Pacific Oceans, and it was called the Lincoln Highway. It was just a two lane road, marked by posts boasting a flat white square with a big blue "L" on it. I-80 now flows along almost the same route as the original Lincoln Highway and that is why Mr. Lincoln gazes, from its highest point, on the busy, rushing traffic that carries people, goods and produce across this great nation.



Lincoln appears somber and contemplative to me, as if he sees how the country he saved has become great and yet how threatened and struggling we are as a people facing huge and complex daily challenges, worries and dangers.



Standing right under Lincoln's visage, we could look along the freeway east as it descends the mountainsides onto the Great Plains and winds towards the wonderful states and locations we have so much enjoyed over the past 3 weeks.



Again we turned west and drove downhill, but remained on the high country of Wyoming, scoured by almost constant winds and home to cattle, antelope, coyotes and patches of whirling, giant windmills, skylined on the ridge, pulling in energy as the wind jousts with the massive blades.



Driving was easy and the miles flowed past. It was a pleasure to feel the freedom of the road as we slipped through country both stark and beautiful and could see the familiar Uintah Mountains become more and more defined and majestic. At last we crossed the border past Evanston and found ourselves once more in Utah. Here, the freeway follows some of the Mormon Trail and leads through Echo Canyon, perhaps at its loveliest this time of year. The afternoon sun seemed to heat the stone so that it glowed with warm orange and highlighted the green of the trees and brush. For us it spoke a welcome and the comfort color of this great State.



Past Echo Reservoir we drove, through the twisting, turning canyon beyond Wanship and into
view of the autumn painted mountains which cup Park City in embracing wraps of green and g0ld, speckled with red. Down Parley's Canyon and into The Valley, home at last.



Our love of this land has increased many fold and gratitude fills our hearts. We are grateful for the freedom to travel almost 6000 miles and not show a passport or be stopped and questioned. This nation is rich in beauty, produce, people and potential. We felt safe and welcome everywhere we went. Wherever we traveled, we were touched by the vast number of American flags flying above city centers, shopping malls, homes, farms and even on cars and motorcycles. The citizens of this land are patriotic by nature and love their country. Our hearts join with those who recognize the privilege it is to live in this unparalleled nation. It has been blessed by the hand of God and is founded on the blood of patriots who were willing to give all, including their lives, that we might live free! We should give daily thanks that we are Americans. Nowhere else on earth do people enjoy what we have, and we too often take those blessings for granted. We are an exceptional land, nation and people.
Our journey was spectacular and yet we only touched a small portion of what is open to us. We will travel again, but are also glad to be home with family and friends. We deeply love America.
God Bless the USA!

WE LOVE AMERICA - NEBRASKA

In Fort Smith, Arkansas, we looked at the map and had a revelation, an epiphany as it were. If we continued on our present course and comfortable speed, we would probably not get home until the middle of the next week. Unfortunately, we did have some responsibilities (such as going to work) and so we decided that a change in direction was indicated. We decided to back track a few miles and turn north on I-29 and head for Omaha and points west. Our course north pulled us into the beautiful, rolling hills of western Arkansas and then up and up and up over the spine of the Ozark Mountains. Small hamlets and towns dotted the hills, looking like a spoon had scooped out some of the rich forest to open a few meadows and mounds where houses could be plopped and fastened. Some farms lay on steep hillsides and looked as if a gentle shaking would slide them down as if on skis.
We found ourselves on one of this country's truly scenic byways. This beautiful four lane masterpiece flowed gently over one hilltop after another, climbing higher and higher in a rich forest panorama sprinkled with autumn colors.
We topped out at Fayetteville, AR and found a city, scattered over a set of goose bump hills and sprawling out to dip into shallow valleys and crevices. It was right on top of the mountain range and the view spread out, down the mountains and onto northern Arkansas and the Missouri plains. We coasted down the mountainsides and accelerated out onto fertile farm land. It was perfect for corn, soybeans (again) and scattered plots of watermelons and pumpkins.



But as we crossed from Arkansas into Missouri, we began to see large fields, dry and cracking in the sun and looking like abandoned lake beds. Then we would pass another field and it would be covered with water, scattered corn stalks slumped over, their leaves stirring faint wavelets in the wind. We kept questioning why so much rich land had become so desolate, what had happened here? We were driving along the east side of the Missouri River and we later found that last June it surged out of its banks in a devastating flood. In Montana, the river's origin, snowfall last winter was 212% of normal and the spring stayed cold until June. Then the weather rapidly warmed and to make the situation worse the upstream mountains received as much rain in one month as they usually get in a whole year. All that water rolled downstream like an inland tsunami until the banks and levees could hold no more and acres and acres of farms filled with water. For the Corps of Engineers, it was a question of which levees to dynamite to release the pressure but cities and population won over farm lands. It was a sobering manifestation of nature's power and impact.
Finally we slipped into Omaha and found a place to lay our weary heads. In the morning, bright crisp and blue, we decided that we could not miss the Mormon Trail Visitor Center at Winter Quarters.



It was at this location, across the Missouri River from Council Bluffs, that the Mormon Pioneers, driven out of their lovely and cherished city of Nauvoo, abandoning beautiful and sturdy homes, found refuge on Indian land. In a terrible journey of suffering and deprivation they made their agonizing way, in the depth of a ferocious winter, across the entire State of Iowa. Crossing the Missouri River on ferry boats, they parked their wagons, put up drafty tents and crafted dugouts and a few sod roofed log cabins to create Winter Quarters, a haven from persecution. The winter was hard, with sticky mud, snow and merciless ice and devastating disease stalked and ravished the Saints. On a hill overlooking the camp, day upon day, body after body was buried. Over 600 suffering souls left this earth that winter, tragically, many of them little children. But it was also from here that the Pioneers turned their faces west and with wagons and handcarts, marched into the wilderness of the Great Plains to carve a new and safe home in the Rocky Mountains.



We owe an eternal debt to these faithful ancestors and our hearts were touched and softened by the knowledge of the agony and suffering they endured and the fire of faith that powered their triumph. Those who endured the trial of Winter Quarters rose out of that frozen cauldron with a renewed testimony, a mighty knowledge that God knew and loved them and a bright, fixed and firm commitment to go on to Zion.



It is fitting that next to the Pioneer Cemetery, a temple now stands whose spire reaches heavenward and the Angel Moroni sounds the trump to usher in the Dispensation that will welcome the Savior again. The struggles and suffering of the Saints buried here are over, and a solid symbol of Eternal Life looks upon their resting place. The oak trees stand straight and tall, sheltering this hallowed ground.



Gravestones are weathered and worn and most of the resting places lie unmarked, waiting that glorious day when eternal light will explode from the east and the graves will yield up their immortal dead.



Avard Fairbanks sculpted this statue of a pioneer couple, weeping in anguish over the little open grave of their child, taken from them by unyielding death, which could not be forestalled. Now they must tenderly and gently cover their precious babe in the cold and dark soil. It is a fitting and touching tribute, standing in a place of honor in the cemetery.



With full hearts, we left Winter Quarters and Omaha and sped west into the Great Plains of America. Field after field of ripened corn, bounded and defined by windrows of green, spoke of the breadbasket and fertile power of this choice nation. We have the potential to feed billions from the produce of this chosen land. God has smiled on this continent and country.



Ranch houses dot the path of the freeway and many of them have their own beautiful lake right at their doorstep, stocked with fish. Most have a little dock and small boat to enjoy a private, quite moment, floating in peace and perhaps enticing an unwary fish to come home for dinner. Our drive was smooth, the miles clicking past faster than any other time on our journey and the wide open spaces refreshed the spirit and lifted our hearts.