We are starting to get into the rhythm of the road. Some of our old stomping grounds have changed with time. We always stay at a little city campground in Ironwood, MI, right on the Wisconsin border. This trip our quiet little knoll in the woods had turned into a dirt bike sound machine. The fairgrounds behind the campground is now a dirt bike track. Instead of bird sounds we enjoyed an evening of unmuffled muffler goosing. Then at 7A.M. it started again.
We are not moving too fast. Quaint little up north towns keep inviting us in to explore. One we really enjoyed was Ashland, WI. There was a mural walk which was an artistic trip through Ashland’s history. It was so cool. Make sure you click on all the pages to see all the amazing murals.
As we get closer to the plains the trees begin to shrink. Parts of Minnesota remind us of the Alaska Highway, very tundra looking.
Funny Face is beginning to adjust to traveling. She has only upchucked once and comes out of her burrow beneath the shower every time we make a pit stop.
Dick is a rambling commentary. We passed a sign on a motel today that said, “$35 a night with a sign below it that read JESUS SAVES.” Dick added, “Everyone else pays full price.”
We drove after dark last night for about an hour. Big mistake. The front of our nice clean motorhome now has a thick coating of kamikaze Minnesota bugs. We’re trying to catch up to my parents who are traveling in their camper. We figure they’re about 2 hours ahead of us and we’ll camp together tonight. They left Michigan two days before us and are heading for Glacier National Park too.
I have enjoyed the comments about the picture on Gaila’s Blog of the Mallery clan heading for Seattle in 1962. Yes, I was even good looking way back then. Gaila mentioned that trip being the beginning of my wanderlust, but it really began in 1957 at the age of 8 when my dad bought this Airstream directly from the factory in Jackson, Ohio. It was the beginning of many trips west with my family and Highway 2 across the northern spine of the country holds many memories for me. Several of them from the era of this picture. Pulling an Airstream travel trailer was kind of a novelty in those days. People would say, “What’s that tin can you’re hauling.” There were few commercial campgrounds back then. My dad would stop and ask small town businesses if we could park and plug into electricity. Often we camped at gas stations, but our favorites were the A&W Root Beer stands. We went through Bemidji, MN today. I remember sitting on the lap of Paul Bunyan and petting Babe the Blue Ox on that trip west. We never missed photo opportunities like that.
The convertible with the wings was a 1959 Buick. The trailer was a 1957, 22 ft, Airstream. The dog (Duke) was a mutt, mostly collie. We got him from Uncle Vic. We never did get a horse--if you’re reading this Victor. The kid next to me, who used to beat me up a lot, is my much older brother Tom. He’s a great sailor now, but still a lousy golfer.