Hello, friends. I haven't actually checked dates but I've done the math and I am pretty sure that it has been 15 days since I last blogged. I have to apologize for this. Not having access to to wifi or cell service has made it difficult to find the inspiration to record life instead of living it. I'm sure nobody's actually reading this anymore, but maybe someday I will write all of this down for the kiddoes. Today is my official last day of our trip, as tomorrow the boys and I head east so we can take care of some local responsibilities. Today, we excitedly headed out to Mt. Washburn, Yellowstone's “if you only do one hike...” hike, on a day with 0% chance of precipitation, and found ourselves in a hailstorm with 40-50 mph winds. Good times.

We spent a week in Grand Tetons, and another nine days in Yellowstone. To this point, likely my last blog post, we have hiked 85 miles in four weeks. I'll have to tell you all about it sometime.

Grand Tetons

We are here at Grand Teton National Park in Wyoming. This is our fifth time coming here, and it is as beautiful and full of wildlife as ever. There is very little cell signal and no wifi so it will be very hard for me to keep up with the ol' blog, but I'm going to try my best. Tonight, weather permitting, all seven of us are hiking five miles out into the backcountry to camp at Hermitage Point. This is an amazing spot that is on a peninsula looking across Jacskon Lake at the Teton Range. 

Yesterday we hiked 6.6 miles around one of our favorite spots, Two Oceans Lake, which we love for its miles and miles of windflowers. 

There and Back Again

So here's my day today, Friday, July 10: Wake up, and fight the daily battle about getting the camper closed up and ready to go. But finally everybody's moving, and chipping in, and super helpful. And the only thing left to do is dump the tanks. Tank 1: Check. Tank 2: We pull the release valve, listening excitedly as we hear the rush down the pipe, sounds like Niagara Falls, works every time! And then it happens. Not at all unlike Old Faithful, except this wasn't spring water from the deep recesses of the Earth. I ask you to again refer to your copies of the movie RV. You see, whatcha need here is a hose spreader. (Dontcha know.) And the sewer has some kind of blockage and if you put in more than just a middling amount, more than just a trickle, more than just a trifling, piddling, insignificant bit, then a terrible, horrible, in-con-theiv-able fate awaits. And so I had Gabe working the valve (as a crowd started to gather and offer advice, just like in RV) and I would coach him: Alright, now less, less, less, okay, just a smidge more, more, just a – NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! And then suddenly there would be a huge regurgitation onto the lawn. And did I mention that in order to gauge the flow, I got to hold the poopchute in my hand and watch how full the sewer was while it filled? Awesome.

Our trusty Lord Commander goes everywhere with us.
He even goes into the Rolex store. Why?
FOR THE WATCH!!!
(too soon?)

But finally we got it taken care of and got packed up and I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed my hands and we started the campers moving. I stopped at the office to let the owners know that it was okay and I wasn't upset, but there was something really really really really wrong with the sewer in site #5 and they should have a look at it. And the lady actually looks at me with a straight face and acts as if it must be my fault. Because maybe I dont know how to dump the poop tank. Because why shouldn't you have to stand there with the poophose in your hand watching to see how splattered you can get while filling the poophole? Because isn't Kamping fun? See you in hell, Hardin KOA.

But then things start looking up as we start a very short drive, only 17 miles to our exit, to see Pompeys Pillar. Incidentally, Pompeys Pillar, like Devils Tower, does not use an apostrophe. This offense has caused Grammar Reservist Gabe to be called up for active duty on the Grammar Police. It is quite upsetting for him. Anyway... it's only 15 minutes to the exit and we make it seven before Montana Fish & Game is there with a mandatory boat inspection. And I tooooooootally get why they do this, but I think the two of them just really needed somebody to talk to and so they were making it a legal requirement for people to stop and talk to them instead of just meeting creepy strangers online like everybody else does.

Anyway... we finally get back on the highway for the remaining eight minutes to our exit. I know this is going to be a great road to take between I-90 and I-94 because it cuts the triangle and it must be okay to drive because it's on the state map. (For those of you following along in your atlas, it's exit 478 off of I-90.) Here's where you cue the sad clown horn: Wah-wah... Because since it's Montana, EVERY road is on the state map. Including this one, that seems to have been hewn this very morning from the bare earth with shovels and pick axes. Jerry reaches the exit and exclaims over the walkie-talkie “I'm not driving on that!” but for me it is much too late. And so I had to execute a perfect K-turn with the Suburban and 35-foot trailer onto a patch of dirt that was eight feet wide (exactly the wheelbase of the trailer). Nailed it. (With Gabe's help, he would like me to mention.) Only took 15 or 20 minutes to turn around. And then we were on our merry way to Pompey[']s Pillar.

Now you may be thinking to yourself, I'm one of the two people who actually reads this blog, and I remember that they were going from the Black Hills of South Dakota to Grand Teton National Park. As I gaze upon my trusty atlas, it looks like they should be traversing through Wyoming, going through Cody to get to Grand Teton. Why in the world are they so far north? Why are they in Montana? It seems like they have gone a full day's drive and hundreds upon hundreds of miles out of their way. I don't understand. It doesn't make sense! Why would anybody ever do that?!? Well, it's good that you've asked. You see, one of our gallant party suggested it would be worth our while to drive down the Beartooth Highway, often referred to as The Most Beautiful Road in America. It's really a spectacular drive, and it's the Northeast entrance to Yellowstone. So we came all the way around to Red Lodge, Montana, the entrance to the Beartooth Highway. And the first thing out of the lady's mouth when we walked into the campground office was “Hi! Y'all aren't planning to drive those things on the Beartooth Highway, are you?!?!? 'Cause you are waaaaaayyyyyy too big to drive on that road.”

That's Capt. Clark's signature behind her.
Yes, she is pink.
"It'll just be a streak", says her mother.

This is that moment where I want you to please refer to the Gownezio blog addendum entitled Ferris Bueller's Day Off, noting the section where Cameron freaks out. This scene approximates my emotional state at this precise moment. I may have been catatonic at pool's edge.

In between these three spectacular moments we stopped for haircuts and grocery shopping (Lewis & Clark would have call it “foraging”, but I'm a lot tougher than that). And since we are preparing to go into the wilds, we spent enough money at Wal-Mart that I am certain they are now paying their employees an honest living wage. I'll have to check on that later. Tonight, we had an amazing dinner at the Red Lodge Cafe. And we also really did make it to Pompeys Pillar, which is a rock. It is a super-famous rock, because a dude in buckskin graffitied on it. A whole bunch of other dudes also wrote graffiti on it for the next 100 years, completely obliterating all of the pre-existing Native American graffiti. Just don't graffiti it now, because that would be graffiti, and what those guys did is history.

I am oversimplifying the P.P. experience a bit, because they have really made this into a fantastic place for visitors to learn about Lewis and Clark's expedition, as well as the effect the expedition had on the west and especially the SE Montana/Yellowstone River area. I really enjoyed the painting depicting Custer and the 7^th Cav's 1873 visit to Pompey's Pillar when all the dudes were swimming nekkid in the water but then suddenly the Sioux all show up and start shooting (laughing their heads off, in the painting at least), but everybody's in their birthday suits. And they've gotta haul ass out of the water and jump on their horses and grab their rifles and, well, everybody's still just completely naked. I'm happy to say that I've never been shot at, but I am still certain that it was absolutely terrifying in the moment. But I'll bet even those cavalrymen had a good laugh about it once they got away. And got their pants on. Fun fact.... Clark and his team did 70 miles a day down the Yellowstone River in a catamaran that they made out of two canoes that they just chopped with axes out of two cottonwood trees. That's hard core. Or perhaps I say should “Hard Corps” because they're the Corps of Discovery. Yeah, that'd be clever because knowledge and stuff. #HardCorps

Yesterday was also a bunch of fun, although it was a very long day in the car. We left the western-most edge of SD and moved into the eastern-most edge of Wyoming, which is like ¾ of an inch on the map but three hours in real life. But we finally made it to Devils Tower and did an awesome 2.8 mile hike around it. And so naturally last night and tonight we introduced the kiddos to Close Encounters of the Third Kind (“Hey Dad, these special effects aren't too bad, considering this movie is almost as old as you are”) which was great fun for the whole family.

Tomorrow we drive through Cody (yes, Cody, on route 16, where we were two days ago) into the eastern entrance to Yellowstone and then down into Grand Teton.

The Black Hills, part deux

Okay, folks, it's been three days and we are about to leave the Black Hills and it had better be time to blog again. We have had a spectacular time here in South Dakota. It was supposed to rain/thunderstorm every single day but we have never once had our plans ruined/changed by the weather. Except that when last we met, I was cooking in the middle of a thunderboomer.

Jewel Cave's spot-on impression of jellyfish

Monday, July 6 we were exhausted with rubbery legs from our not-too-long-but-really-intense hike in Sunday Gulch. So we went to Jewel Cave (New NPS stamp!) for the standard tour. But there was a three-hour wait, so we drove back into the town of Custer for lunch at Black Hills Burger and Bun. I was super excited about this, because Fox News had rated it as the #2 burger place in America. And if there's only one thing I know in this world, it's that you can always trust Fox News as a reliable source of unbiased information. But despite that, it was really, really good. And believe me when I say I have abnormally high standards for burgers.

I'm sure Jewel Cave was really very interesting with the caves and the limestone and the stalactites and the claustrophobia. But, you know, the burgers.

I'm also 99% certain we did something really super-interesting on Monday after Jewel Cave but, for the life of me, I can't remember what it was.

But I do remember that Tuesday, July 7 we hiked up to Cathedral Spires. It was awesome. A moderately significant climb with no great pay-off at the end except for a trail sign saying “End of Trail”. (Implication: Turn around before you walk off of the cliff, dummy.) But it was fantastic, walking through the midst of all of the cliffs and canyon and spires. Kieran and especially New SpiderGirl Izzie climbed all over every rock there was to climb.

A striking resemblance to greatness

After that we went to Mount Rushmore, the only national park in America with a parking garage like an airport, and where admission to the park is free but you have to pay $11 to park there. It feels rather like DisneyWorld (I don't mean that as a compliment) and, of course, there are nearly as many people at Mount Rushmore as there are at DisneyWorld. Yes, you get to take in the museum about how awesome America is. Yes, it was cool to see the MASSIVE compressor that ran all of their jackhammers. And good on them for not having hundreds of workers die in the construction, like they would have if they were getting ready for FIFA. Everybody else in the famiglia loooooooooooooooves Mount Rushmore, so who am I to complain? Just the guy with the laptop and the blog address. Alls I'm saying is it would have been sooooooooo much better if Nicolas Cage had shown up and shown us the city of gold.

That evening, after eating WAY too much pasta, I decided to do what I had planned to do every evening since we arrived, which is ride the 7 miles and 1,500 feet of elevation from our campground to the Crazy Horse monument.

#1) I am so out of shape.

#2) But the 24 mph downhilll is totally worth it.

#3) Until getting a flat tire a mile from our campsite, after dark.

#4) In mountain lion country.

(Editor's note: Author was not eaten.)

Wednesday, July 8, we went on an extended drive to the Spearfish Canyon in the northern end of the Black Hills. Bonus: We stopped at Cabela's on the way there. For those of you who have never been to Cabela's, imagine the greatest outdoors store you've ever been too. Now multiply it times 5, and give it a 50-foot-tall roof. Now, go and shoot like 300 animals, and place them strategically around the store. On the upside, they had an iron skillet that was two feet in diameter, and affordably priced, too. I was totally covetous of it. I didn't care what anybody was going to saying about compensating. I was all set to buy one, but then I realized I couldn't actually lift it. Sadly, when the employees saw what a girly-man I was, they had no choice but to shoot me and place me in a diorama.

I've been to the Black Hills a bunch of times before, and Spearfish Canyon was unlike anything I/we have seen here in the southern part/Custer S.P. ever before. Some sections from Dances With Wolves were shot there (really just about the whole movie was shot in western SD), and I just kept seeing Wind In His Hair on the bluff above me as we hiked, telling me that I would always, always be his friend. It was quite touching, really.

That band of Sioux in Dances With Wolves seemed like such nice people. Even though the ending was kind of vague, I'm sure they solved all of their problems with the government and everything turned out okay for them in the end.

Kieran found an abandoned mine!
And what could be more fun than playing in an abandoned mine?!?

Some of our tour members who don't enjoy hiking as much as the rest (cough, cough, Kieran) were worried about the number [5] of hikes we were trying to cram into one day in Spearfish. But we tried to hike Devil's Bathtub (not that one, the other one) but there was no parking. And then the other one was closed. And then... And at the end of it, well, we had only two heuuuuu-jah hikes for a grand total of 3.5 miles. But it was gorge-ous. (You see what I did there, right?) Waterfalls, canyons, flowers, etc. At the end of it Jerry and Kathy offered to buy dinner, so we stopped in Hill City for “Western cowboy fare” at Desperado. The place was filled with Eagles, but they just wouldn't come to their senses. (Age check. If you don't get that joke, you can probably still climb a flight of stairs without getting winded. And I hate you for it.)

Tonight we watched our first TV/movie of the trip with the kids, and tomorrow we move through Wyoming and Devil's Tower to Hardin, MT, a little town where I had some good times back in the day.

The Saga Continues

Hello Gownezio blog fans and welcome back for another exciting installment! I am really letting down my blogger duties, but the upside is that I have been living life instead of recording it.

Okay, so first of all, how is it possible that in my hometown of Monroe, Michigan, where nothing has ever happened in the history of ever, I visit, and then THREE DAYS LATER Stephen Colbert hosts the public access TV show and has Eminem on as his guest?!?? It's a scandal!!! It's an outrage!!! (p.s. Don't watch this until you finish reading the blog because you will forget to come back.)

Wednesday, July 1: When last we met, we had just climbed the bluffs above the Mississippi River Valley in Minnesota. We then continued on to the middle of South Dakota, and camped at a campground on the Missouri River where they have a tiki bar. I ordered a pina colada because it is a tiki bar, but there WERE NO CUTE LITTLE UMBRELLAS to go in my umbrella drink. The struggle continues, my friends. It continues. We arrived at this tiki-bar-havin' campground in early afternoon and were greeted by a campground manager screaming at us because we weren't supposed to be there. It turns out that at some point her computer had crashed and she had lost a great quantity of reservation info. And so she was greeting every person who arrived (that she didn't know to expect, because she lost their information) by screaming at them and making it clear that they weren't welcome. Peculiar, because South Dakotans as a rule are friendly to a fault.

That night I tried riding my bike on a bridge over the Missouri River into the next town and was at the apex of the bridge when I realized that the “bike lane” was now six inches wide, and the guardrail was half the height of my tire. So after a brief moment of panic where I envisioned myself still attached to the bike but in the water, I hopped off, and walked my bike back down the bridge. And every single pickup truck driver (which is everybody, because, ya know, South Dakota), whether they were male or female, young or old, white or just nearly white, slowed down to make sure I was safe, gave me a wave and a smile, and continued past. And not one single person scowled or honked or got crabby because I was completely in their way. South Dakota.

The view from our campsite on the Missouri River

Thursday, July 2, we woke up to another fantastic downpour that gave us another fantastic lakefront view from our camper. (If you don't get it yet, our camper has been swamped every frickin' morning of the trip. The day starts by stepping down into cold water that usually isn't terribly clean or pure.)There have been two times that we have traveled out west and had every single place we visited or wanted to visit be in the midst of a massive forest fire. In fact, in Glacier National Park, they simply refer to that massive 2003 fire as “The Burn”, although a few of the old-timers still call it “That time the Gownezios came to visit.” Anyway, it seems like this year we bring the flood. Every place we go. I would suggest that it seemed like a Noah-level event, except that the only thing more horrible to imagine than a gigantic flood destroying the world would be that movie starring Russell Crowe with the flood and the stone monsters and just the worst thing ever. But I (as usual) digress.

Two things were noteworthy on this morning: One is that I started the truck as I often do with the windows down and began pulling out of the campsite. Those of you who continue to not only read the blog but pay attention know that

1. My windows are down
2. The kayaks are on top of the truck
3. It has poured rain all night long
4. The aforementioned rain has collected by the many, many gallons-full all night long in the aforementioned kayaks
5. I really, really should know better by now

Therefore, ergo, hilarity ensued. I only wish I could have seen myself, screaming no, no, NO, NO, NOOOO as the window slooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooowly went up. You might think your car windows move up or down slowly. You really have no idea.

The second most wonderful thing that happened is that Jerry had his very first poopmergency with the brand-new RV. A poopmergency in which he had to acquire a plunger. And in which as he plunged, he didn't realize that he would need to open the flush valve in the toilet. An RV toilet is really a simple thing. Poop goes in, you step on a pedal that opens a trap door, poop goes down. It's like poop magic. But if you plunge without stepping on that pedal, then you are adding the pressure of the plunger to the toilet that is already full. Of poop. I will give you a moment to visualize that, laugh, retch, and laugh again. And, if needed, please feel free to retch a second time.

Um, nice teeth

We drove west across South Dakota, in love with the fact that it looked like South Dakota with its prairie grass and ranches and rolling hills and puffy clouds on blue skies. If you've been to South Dakota, you know what I'm talking about. We stopped at Badlands National Park for what I think was my tenth visit there, but the kids didn't remember it. The kids and I scrambled on rocks while Liz supervised and Jerry and Kathy went on a short hike. We were fortunate enough to get into the visitor center while the fossil lab was open for visitors and got to see a bunch of cool stuff, including the skull of a cat-like predator that a 7-year-old girl had discovered while on a Junior Ranger program. And the highlight was when the ranger went into the storage closet to show Izzie the saber-toothed tiger skull.

 

The Gowfolk stopped for a lovely hour of camper shopping (one of our favorite pasttimes) in Rapid City and then we all met up to begin our weeklong residence at the Rafter J Bar Ranch in the Black Hills.

The view from our campsite at the Rafter J 

On Friday, July 3, we began by driving on the Needles Highway. This is an incredible sightseeing road, but it does not agree with my children's stomachs.

FLASHBACK: When Liz and I drove to Montana in Jerry and Kathy's first RV in 1997, we stopped in the Black Hills. We looked at the map, and saw a shortcut – the Needles Highway. By the time we realized our error, there was nowhere to turn around, and the onlt way was forward. I ended up driving this RV on a hairpin-turning cliffside road for 20 miles. But then there were the tunnels. The smallest of these is 8'4” wide. The RV was 8' wide, allowing me 2 inches on either side for the entire length of the tunnel. Not. A. Scratch. Except for on my psyche. When I cleared that tunnel and came to the end of the road I pulled over and wept. And my blood pressure is up just thinking about it.

But on this past Friday, we drove Needles to the trailhead for Lovers' Leap, a scenic first “real” hike with lots of beautiful scenery.

Saturday was our anniversary, as Liz and I got married on the 4^th of July in 1998. We gazed into each others' eyes and said “Awww, there'll always be fireworks.” But what getting married on July 4 really means is it that you will almost never be able to find a good restaurant open on your anniversary. And your kids will always want to stay up really, really late. But at least we are almost always someplace really, really cool on our anniversary. On Saturday morning we completed our first successful separation of the Gowmans and the Conezios. Jerry and Kathy went on the Prairie Ridge hike, which is the first hike we ever did on our first family trip out west in 2002.

FLASHBACK #2: Our first extended family trip out west in 2002 was really stressful. Just this week we have been thinking about it and the reasons why we may have been on edge. I believe I have pieced together our first week:

Day 1 – Rochester to Ohio/Indiana: While driving down I-90, THE WINDSHIELD FALLS OUT OF THE RV. I am not making this up. For repairs, Jerry and I climb on the roof of the RV. He holds me by my ankles, upside-down off the roof of the RV, while I duct tape the windshield back in.

Day 2 – Ohio/Indiana to Chicago: Within 3 minutes of Jerry asking me to drive the RV, it begins to lose power as we ascend the Chicago Skyway Bridge. It breaks down dead, at rush hour, on a Friday, where several major highways all converge. And we are in the left lane, with no shoulder. All occupants of the RV including toddler Gabe and dog Nala climb out the driver's window and wait for rescue.

Day 3 – RV can't be repaired. Kathy says, “ I've waited my whole life for this trip and we've planned it for a year. I'm not going home.” Jerry says, “Do you take American Express?”

Day 4 – Pickup the new RV

Day 5 – In Minnesota, a tornado nearly drops on our campground and we are forced to take shelter in , coincidentally, the only RV campground tornado shelter we are aware of.

Day 6 – Upon arriving in South Dakota, we take our first ever group/family hike at Prairie Ridge. And get lost. And then the thunderstorm. And then the hailstorm.

But now, back to the present...

And while Jerry and Kathy hiked Prairie Ridge, the Gows went kayaking at Stockade Lake, the largest of several dammed man-made lakes in Custer State Park. And it was awesome, except that there were powerboats with tubers (kids on tubes, not potatoes), and teenagers driving jet-ski's at full speed between our two kayaks. So it wasn't actually awesome. But maybe it was.

We reformed the Gownezio Clan and headed over to French Creek, famous because this is where Custer's 1872 expedition found gold, leading to the Black Hills gold rush, the breaking of treaties, the escalation of war with the Sioux, etc., etc., etc. Hey, what would General Custer be famous for if he was still alive today? His age. Buh-dum boom. Now, French Creek is the natural area in Custer State Park where you can't take cars or trucks or even jet-ski's. But there are 51 creek crossings in 12 miles. So we put on the Tevas and went exploring. It was great fun. As we hiked across a meadow, we saw two sets of ears perk up, and then in a burst of speed saw a big coyote go after a deer.

And today, July 5, we went on a serious hike, Sunday Gulch, which was only 4 miles long but had us climbing over, above, around, and through a cascading river through much of it. First hike we've done in a while that was labeled “strenuous”. Funny thing about the kids is that the more challenging the hike is, the more they love it. Their grandparents don't necessarily enjoy the technical scrambling and climbing quite as much, and it's possible that there was some deception involved in getting their Poppy on this hike.

It has threatened to rain and thunderstorm every day since we arrived here in the Black Hills and it finally has. Tonight, I found myself cooking burgers over a wood fire in a downpouring thunderstorm.

To be continued...