Days 8, 9 and 10 - Bozeman, Montana

Earthship Le Van Gogh diary

Days 8, 9, & 10 - Bozeman, Montana

I’m tired so I took a rest for a couple of days. My body dictates how far I can go at a time so I respect its request. I rest. I think the kitties appreciate the break from driving as much as I do. Fluffbutt is up front nodding off in the sun with a smile on her face and Chopper is purring because she gets more cuddling when I’m lying down with her. So here I am, 11:04 a.m. and I’m still in p.j.’s, sipping my horrible Folder’s coffee-bag coffee, my hair uncombed and pulled up and out of my way, the heating pad under my back and warm and a nice piano concerto weaving out of NPR. I’m too lazy to brew some proper coffee in my French Press so this will do for now. Later, perhaps, but now? Nah. I’m too comfortable.

You know, I’ve noticed that I’ve really stepped out of time. I know that today is the 10th of September because I asked a friend this morning with whom I was chatting by phone what the day was. I write where I am each day on my calendar because if I don’t I have no idea where I was even two days ago. I can see the time on any number of clocks around the van (the radio clock matches up with Mountain Standard Time and is actually accurate for a bit) so I’m clued in to that, if I so desire. But mostly I don’t.

I get up when I feel like I’ve had enough sleep and hit the road (or not) some time before 11:00 a.m., checkout time for most campgrounds. I have a general guideline of driving about 100 miles each day (or not) and generally aim for a KOA camp… (Excuse me. Kampground) …ground just because they’re good at what they do and provide all the necessary requirements of civilized living. If no KOA’s are available than I aim for the next one on the list that has similar offerings and set up camp.

While on the road I have found that driving with no music, no radio or cassette tapes playing has been surprisingly soothing. It’s peaceful, and I like it. I’ve discovered that this means that I’m at ease in my own mind. Gone, or at least mostly, are the insecurities and terrors that followed me out of childhood and what’s left are only concerns that something with the van will go wrong that I can’t fix myself. Of course, that’s what repair shops are for and why I’ve subscribed to RV Coachnet, the RV version of AAA that hops to it when you call them and cry HAAAAAYYYUUUUULLP! But knowing that I’ve made provisions for getting such services eases even that concern. So my biggest worry now is that I get to my friend, Sharon’s, place in Georgia by October 1st and yet even if I’m a couple of days late that will be ok, too. The gathering of friends will be there until the 5th and as long as I get to see them all together, be it only for one day, I will be happy. They won’t, but I will (grin). I’ll be seeing them individually in my travels, of course, but as a group we are special and produce a gestalt energy that is undeniably strong.

I hear no news, except for what I hear on NPR. No TV, though at first I thought I’d miss the Travel Channel, National Geographic, Discovery, etc., until I realized that I was living those channels and that all around me was beauty and discovery and, of course, travel. And though I’ve been a news hound for most of my life and especially since I turned journalist in the Navy, I’m finding that it’s just fine knowing only what NPR decides is worth mentioning. I realize that even that is expendable because, after all, I love this country and everything within it, the good, the bad and the ridiculous, and the small, piddly stuff in the news never really seems to change. I’m aware, however, that we’re entering a new time of multititudinous changes from within as a country and as a people, but those I keep track of within my dreams. Being precognitive and clairvoyant has its advantages sometimes, ya know?

I think perhaps detaching myself from the usual distractions of every day life was necessary for this trip. It’s not only a travelogue kind of trip, it’s a journey within, and a freeing of most of the restrictions I’ve placed on myself in the past. I pay my bills, oh, yes, but these are all automatically withdrawn online with only one check going out each month to the Humane Society back in Port Angeles, WA. So I’m still attached to reality, of course, and I keep track of my expenses so I can set up a budget for how much I can spend each day and still save money for repairs, etc. The “J-ness” of my Myers-Briggs personality type (INFJ) is still functioning fully and indeed I believe is a necessity for keeping this journey manageable and do-able. I’m an artist and a psychic and a flake in the eyes of some, but hey, I still know how to manage my affairs. LOL!

All in all, it’s a journey within as much as a journey without across America to meet and visit old and new friends and see the wonders of this nation in all its glory. Such a marvelous place, our country is, and for those who have never traveled outside of our borders and don’t know, a place where the general lifestyle is far and above better than just about any other nation on earth. I’m speaking of middle-class America here, but as my friend pointed out this morning in our talk, that even our poor enjoy a standard of living better than the poor of other nations. Sad, but true. I remember that even in Puerto Rico, where I was stationed for 3 years while in the Navy, the poor had poverty levels unheard of here in the states. Oh, San Juan and other touristy places showed happy, smiling ‘natives’ and all the amenities of home, but live off of the Roosevelt Roads Naval Base and up in the rain forest as I did and you saw that few in that area had electricity and that living conditions were more like what you’d see in Bombay, India. And Puerto Rico is a part of our country! Hopefully that has changed and it is more developed in those areas but who knows? Perhaps they liked it that way.

I’m not blind to the defects of our country, but I love it just the same. And I’m proud of the 14 years I gave in service and know that this is a special sacrifice for all who wear our uniform, even if only for a short time. Until you have served yourself you have no idea of what the life is like and how much of yourself you have to give. Oh, our families do, of course, but even they cannot fully comprehend the tremendous amount of energy that goes into giving yourself to your country. So my heart goes out for those who die or have died or have been injured while giving their service, especially in a time of war and even in a time of peace. And to their families I can only offer the strength and faith I’ve developed over the years. Until Melissa and Brian joined the service (my niece and nephew) I’ve never been the one who has had to stay behind and wait for them to come home safely and hopefully in one piece, both physically and mentally. I think I like being the one gone better. But again I rely on my ability to sense what is going on far away from me and that keeps me from excessive anxiety until Brian returns. Melissa has been back for awhile and is in college now and enjoying a happy relationship and all that so I have less to be concerned about there. Brian, on the other hand, is still in harms way and until he gets back in December I’ll stay in touch and make sure I know he’s safe. And that Mary, his wife, doesn’t get too sad and lonely without him.

Ok. Enough of the waxing philosophical. The downtime has been helpful and has given me space to sort out what I’m experiencing and share that with you. If you’ve been bored with this monologue, sorry ‘bout that. This blog records the boring as well as the funny and interesting. Philosophical won’t happen all the time, just at times when I can reflect.

Lessons Learned:

That the headphone extension cord I bought is just beautiful and works fine…if only it were about 8” longer.

That I see another Wal-Mart visit in my future where I can go get yet another extension.

That I don’t have to be psychic to see that.

Oh, well.

Good thing I’ve enjoyed the quiet, ya?

That I need to get screens for the van.

That little midges of some kind enjoy flying in and out when I leave the door open at sundown and tippety-type on the computer while sitting at a nearby picnic table.

That they’re cute and don’t bite but can be distracting when I’m trying to type.

Fluffbutt likes them too because they’re fun to chase.

But they really need to be outside where they will be happier.

I think.

Observations:

Two elderly, grizzled old ranch wranglers sitting across from each other in a café and downing a hearty breakfast with a baby in a high chair perched at the table between them.

A long chat with the owner of a fine art gallery. She confessed to still feeling guilty after 18 years of suffering after once telling an artist her work wasn’t quite good enough when presented for showing in her gallery. She knew that she hurt the artist‘s feelings and had felt bad about it ever since. I absolved her of her sin and told her that artists won’t grow without this kind of feedback, though it could always be given in a kindly way. She felt better about it and was glad to have chatted with me. Hooray!

A button seen in a funky music store: “This just in - Elvis is still dead.”

T-shirt in the same store: “Green Coalition of Gay Loggers for Jesus.” I’d say that this pretty much about covers it.

Sculpture seen in gallery window of a rodeo girl perched on her horse’s back in full shiny regalia and a tiara and wings and titled, “The Good Queen.”

On NPR this morning, a segment I haven’t heard since I left Maine - Guess this song! A perfectly ordinary song from either a Broadway show or general pop music or even a child’s nursery rhyme is translated into a particular composer’s style of music and at a much slower beat. The challenge: Guess the style, the composer who might have crafted such a style and the actual piece that has been translated. I confess that though I picked up on the style (some kind of nocturne, possibly) I couldn’t quite nail the composer (Beethoven) and the melody was beyond me. It turned out to be “Summertime,” from Porgy and Bess. The melody had been slowed down so much that all I could pick up on was the left-handed-piano bass chords and the present composer had confused that by adding harmony after harmony to the melody. The guy who called in got it all correct, the jerk, but then he was a music teacher at some university so it would have been embarrassing if he hadn’t. I felt better since I’m no music history person though I can still read music. I just like to listen to the sounds of the old composers.

That it takes about 1,000 years for each photo to upload to Blogger.com. At least it feels that way. I do the dishes between each one, or tidy the van or what have you. Annoying but only mildly so and I get alot done at the same time. Oh, well.

Day 6 - Missoula, Montana

Earthship Le Van Gogh Diary

Day 6 - Missoula, Montana

Aaaahhhh. One of my favorite works by Debussy is playing on the local NPR, “Pavane For a Dead Princess.” Macabre title aside, it’s simply a lovely and dreamy piece of music.

I’m parked in a super Wal-Mart parking lot between two pickup trucks with campers on their backs. There are a couple of other trailer-pulled campers nearby and several cars, but I know now that by tomorrow morning there will be more. Many more. Boon docking is very popular in the RV set.

Missoula is either a large town or a small city - I haven’t checked the stats but it’s pretty cool, however big it is. Still having problems catching a roaming signal, drat it. Tell me again why I paid for my own wireless device and a monthly fee to boot when there aren’t enough towers to support this? Bleh.

I parked and took a walk in the downtown area and it was quaint and charming and picturesque and all that. Most shops were closed but there were plenty of folks just out and about to see and get exercise and feel the sun whenever it made a brief appearance. It was good to stretch my legs and see what was popular in this neck of the woods.

After I was tired from walking I returned to my car and asked Charmagne to find the local Wal-Mart. This she could do! And she didn’t dump me in the middle of the road, either! Yay, Charmagne!!

I parked near the gathering cluster of RV’s, set up shop for a 12V night and walked over to the store. I wanted to find a voice activated recorder I could use while I’m driving that was close at hand and that didn’t require me to look away from the road to grasp it. Trying to write down what I see as I drive along is a very bad idea; hence, a tiny recording device that holds about 200 hours of my lovely voice should I choose to not delete as I go. Since I have no intention of saving all of my little notes after I’m done transcribing them into the blog I found the smallest recorder for sale and got it. Now I won’t be such a driving hazard to myself and others.

Tomorrow I drive to Butte, about 125 miles from Missoula. I’m just setting Charmagne to get me to the city center and I’ll take over once I see a good campground for the night. I didn’t bother showering tonight and I’ll need (and want) one a lot tomorrow, for sure, so a full-service campground is required. I’ve become a KOA member and I know they have one close to Butte so I’ll probably stop at that one. I like KOA - it’s clean, has all services including a laundry (important!), the aforementioned showers, a dumping station (I sure hope so because my tanks are getting full again. So quickly! Off I go to beddy by with the kitties tucked in to their nightly areas and me tucked into my little bed. Night all!

Lessons Learned:

That my attempts to figure out how to use the recording device on my own have failed.

That I might have to read the instructions because I can’t figure out how to do it myself.

I hate it when that happens.

That Le Van Gogh doesn’t drive any better with the wind at my back than it did when I was driving into the wind.

That the van is still broad and high (relatively speaking, of course) no matter which way the wind is blowing.

That the van just doesn’t drive easily at any speed above 45 mph.

Which should keep me alert.

And should develop really strong muscles in my hands and arms.

I would think.

That parking in Wal-Mart is cost effective but noisy.

That some moron pulled up close by our little RV area with windows down and bass cranked as high as it can go.

At 12:30 a.m.

That I might have to dig out my hammer and go bash in his windows and side panels.

But that might hurt my hammer.

So never mind.

Observations:

A fenced in area with ‘High Voltage’ signs every five feet and a blackened scorched-earth area where some fool clearly tried to find out if the owners were telling the truth.

Strolling around downtown Missoula I see a mannequin in a store with a truly demented expression on its face. Scary.

A car in front of me with a faded red tattered towel spread across the back area just below the rear window and pink plastic roses scattered all about.

A young couple taking a walk in the downtown area with a large black lab carrying a thick, short branch in his mouth.

Three street kids holding signs saying “Traveling but broke, too ugly to get work.” I spoke to them about the kind of jobs they had applied for and one boy, who was quite nice looking, said that he was too ugly and no one would hire him. Uh huh. The other kid, who was kind of ugly, actually, had tried to find a job, any job no matter how humble, but no one would hire him. The two boys and the girl, all appearing to be anywhere from 15-19 years of age, were dirty and their clothes somewhat tattered which might have been the reason no one would hire them. That and they looked like runaways. Then again, the amusing sign was working and folks were giving them spare change so it could be just an easy scam. No obvious signs of drug use and no bruises or abrasions from being beat up. I wondered, though, how long it would be before some pimp rounded them up and forced them into prostitution. May the gods look favorable upon them! I gave them the two dollars I had in my pocket, wished them well and moved on.

I think I left humidity far behind me. My thumbs have started to crack at the corners of the nails and I’m constantly thirsty (hence, full holding tanks…) so I’m getting the hint that I’m now in dry country. Time to find some bag balm.

I passed a Cracker Barrel restaurant on my way to Missoula. Amazing! This extremely popular chain with delicious, artery-clogging southern cooking is usually found in the South. Or so I thought. It sure looked popular up here as well when I drove past it.

A highway sign saying, “9 Mile Road 1 Mile.”