Since I sorted and packed the car of all non essentials last evening, leaving La Crosse by 7:45 was quick and streamlined this morning. We were so happy we had made the stop and now we turned the page and set out for points East. The day was tightly scheduled.

By noon we had made it as far as OshKosh, and since we had hit the road without breakfast, we decided this would make a good lunch break. There was an Olive Garden right off the road, so we pulled in and enjoyed one of their lunch specials. It was quick and hot and filling. Just what we wanted. To my delight, there happened to be a Duluth Trading Outlet Store in the same parking lot . . . so, of course, I had to take a quick look. There was a screaming good deal on pants for my driver, so it was well worth the stop.

At 1:00 p.m. we had arrived at the Experimental Aircraft Association Museum, a private enterprise supported by a group of airplane enthusiasts. The museum houses a collection of planes and items that relate to aviation history since its inception. Some of their displays were quite good and we enjoyed the short movies they had throughout. Since the collection was much larger than anticipated, we hadn’t allowed enough time. But, we continued on knowing that just meant we would arrive at the next stop a little later. The museum was thoroughly enjoyable.

From there we strayed into the farmlands and small towns of Wisconsin in search of the grave sites of ancestors – of both of us. The first stop was in Johnsburg, at Saint John the Baptist Parish Cemetery where Randy’s great, great, great grandparents, Stephan and Katheryn Goeser are buried.  Stephan was the first person buried in that cemetery in 1853. It was a beautiful late afternoon and the place was lovely. We tried to see if we could visit the church, but it was locked up tight, so we slowly walked back to the car and went on.

Just a few miles down the road we found the town of Mount Calvary and the Cemetery of the Holy Cross. Here is the site where Randy’s great, great grandparents, Johann & Gertrude Michaels, lie in their eternal rest.

And most amazing of all, just 25 miles south of Johnsburg, in the Winooski Cemetery – along a rural road near Plymoth, WI – my great, great, great grandfather and grandmother, Nathan and Persis Underhill are buried. How in the world could the same generation of ancestors for both of us have lived so close together? It almost boggles the mind. But, wait, there’s more! Randy has discovered that we have generations on both sides that were born and grew up in France, not more than 30 miles apart. It seems we were destined to find each other as our ancestors have been in similar places through generations – and may even have known each other in some of these small communities in rural America.

It was so exciting to find three for three! We have walked cemeteries for hours and hours in the past without finding any of the names we were searching for! We traveled on, happy to have found what we wanted to see!

Wanting to avoid Milwaukee’s morning rush hour, we passed through the city on I-94 as the sun was setting. It was a long day, but Racine will be a welcome resting place for the night.

While there were places throughout the day along our route where it looked like it had just rained, we met no rain at all on the road. The afternoon was stunning and our time in the cemeteries was marked by the sun streaming through the trees. It was actually quite warm – almost 80 degrees, and we did get in our exercise today. At each site we found, we marveled at how our ancestors had found beautiful places to live and die.

The first delight was an early morning with the sun fully shinning. It seemed like it had been a long time since we saw such a clear day.

We rose early so my driver could take Dixie over to a scheduled road check up (it was just at that mileage where it’s recommended). He walked back from the service station to meet our friend who took us to a delightful breakfast in the St. Rose Convent dinning room. As you can well imagine, everything was delicious and our conversation was fortifying as well.

By the time we had enjoyed our breakfast, the car was done at the service station, so we set out to see the sights. Our friend took us out to St. Joseph Villa where one of their Sisters has built and maintains a fully functioning, self sustaining greenhouse. Unfortunately, she was not available to give us a tour, but we marveled at the workings, the solar panels, and the self-circulating water system. The plants growing inside looked healthy and loved. The Sisters have also created their own Green Burial space on their grounds and the place is covered with wild flowers. Peace and quiet surrounded us as we walked through the gardens. Bees delighted in flowers; butterflies stopped for nectar; crickets chirped merrily and the sun shone brilliantly. Further down the road we saw some of the hermitages the Sisters have for those who want to retreat from the business of the daily grind. There is no disputing, this place was delightfully peaceful. A place not only for quiet and prayer, but also for communing with nature. The vibrant green of the grasses; the stunning blue of the sky; and the varied color of wild flowers made us grateful for a Creator so skilled with a color pallet.

To add more delight to the morning, we traveled the short distance to Granddad Bluff overlooking the town of La Crosse, Wisconsin which is situated on the Mississippi River. There was a little haze in the distance, but the views were remarkable. This is at the point where the state borders of  Wisconsin, Minnesota and Iowa meet, but it is only possible to see with such an incredible vantage point as the bluffs.

Following another delightful meal at the St. Rose Convent cafeteria, we met with another Sister whom we had met some years ago when she was traveling with our mutual friend. She told of her parish work in northern Michigan and how now, in her retirement, she is leading the charge to eliminate homelessness in La Crosse. The story is astounding and inspirational, giving witness to the fact that one person can make a difference by motivating others, at every level, to join her in such a worthy cause.

We took an afternoon walk into downtown La Crosse and returned for another delightful meal with the sisters at St. Rose. Another delicious offering! Our friend told us affectionately that St. Rose is the best restaurant in town. I have to believe her.

After supper, as the locals say, we were treated to a walk through the St. Rose Convent Archives. It may more appropriately be named a museum of the history of the convent and the many talented and inspiring women who have lived and worked from here. I marveled at how many paintings, vestments, and crafts the sisters have made over the years. Truly, beautiful things!The evening was spent sharing pictures of our family and talking about the “old times” when we first met and had worked together 40 years ago. In some ways it feels like a long time ago, but in many ways it feels like it was just last year. This enduring friendship is one of the graces that came out of that year of teaching so long ago.

It was a delightful day; a delightful visit; and a delightful friendship rekindled. And we are grateful.

Electing not to change our clocks for just one day, we woke up in the Central Time Zone, although we were sleeping in the Eastern Zone. No matter, it was morning in both places and there were parks to see that were closed yesterday.

Just a few blocks from where we stayed we saw the Visitor Center for Isle Royale, a large undeveloped island in Lake Superior. The film about the island informed us of it’s natural wilderness and all the opportunities for backpacking, canoeing and camping. It’s a haven for the “quiet sports” like hiking, biking, and paddling. Not wanting to engage in any of these sports at this time, but just wanting to learn of the land and geography of the area, we felt satisfied. It takes a six hours boat ride to reach the island and then requires an overnight before returning. It really is remote, but I can imagine the rewards of a visit would be memorable. Today we were just happy to stand at the launching point for travelers on their way there.

From there we returned to Calumet to see the Keweenaw National Park dedicated to the copper mining industry that was prevalent in the area until the 1970’s. During the late 1800’s the copper industry lured immigrants from all over Europe. When Calumet was booming, there were 34 different churches – each serving a different ethnic group, not to mention different religious traditions! There were six Catholic churches alone. One each for the Polish; Irish; Italian; French; Spanish; and German miners and their families.

Interestingly, we also learned that since the copper mines have been emptied, the inhabitants of Calumet are trying to reinvent their community. The National Park status for their area and the way of life of their ancestors has given them a renewal and a new direction. Seems I was right on track with my observations from yesterday. They are well on their way to making the shift; to change with the times and meet the needs of today. Adaptability is a huge grace – and one we are not always willing to embrace. It is inspiring to see a whole community facing the changing of their livelihood and with it their town and its attractions.

Leaving the Keweenaw peninsula of Michigan we had 6 hours of driving to reach our destination in La Crosse, Wisconsin. We passed the time by – you guessed it – listening to “Philosophize This.” We are now up to the 1600’s and the thinkers of the day who were trying to explain the existence of God. It’s all quite fascinating, and fun to discuss after each episode. “I like what he said; not so much what he said.” It’s almost like reexamining our own thoughts and beliefs in light of the greatest thinkers of their age. If God is infinite, then all things are a part of God; and another name for God is nature. Courtesy of Baruch Spinoza. Just a short YouTube if you’re not familiar with Spinoza and would like to see some more of his thought. I found I could easily agree with him on most points.

The forests, lakes, rivers, cranberry bogs, dairy farms, corn fields, and farms sped by while the sky grew darker and darker. Finally, about an hour out of La Crosse, the clouds opened and dumped rain right until we reached the city limits. Perfectly timed for us!

We found our dear friend and delighted in reuniting. She graciously set us up for the night and we went in search of nourishment. Breaking bread together was like eucharist and it was so wonderful to pick up the conversation right where we had left it the last time we were together. Good friends are a grace beyond telling . . . and as the contemporary theologian Michael Himes would say, “When you meet with a good friend and share a lively conversation, God is what is happening between you.” I couldn’t agree more!

We packed out of Ironwood, MI about 9:40 and set our sights on Calamut and the Keweenaw National Park – almost all the way across the “thumb” of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. It had rained mercilessly during the night with one big crack of thunder that shook the motel. (So my driver tells me! I was already dead to the world and didn’t hear a thing!) So the morning was a crisp 52 degrees with winds blowing through accumulated clouds. There were small patches of sun from time to time as we traveled on.

Passing by a small lake as one of the rare appearances of the sun broke through, I hollered, “Oh, stop, please!” I wanted so badly to take some photographs and I hadn’t taken hardly anything with my big Nikon. The town was Wakefield and we did get gas, so that made it all worth while. The lake was Sunday Lake. How appropriate; it was Sunday and we had found the lake. Needless to say, in the sun, it was beautiful. (And, probably beautiful without the sun as well, but it had been a long time since we had seen the sun!)

Because of my complaining, my driver took a detour that would bring us closer to the shores of Lake Superior. We stopped in Ontonagon for comfort and asked directions to a place where we could visit the lake. The elderly clerk at the Kwik Stop was kind enough to direct us but we came out and neither of us could reconstruct what the names of the streets were she had mentioned. I whipped out my phone and pulled up maps. I found the city park she had spoke of and then realized the names of the streets were easily identifiable if one simply understood the dialect. We did find the Ontonagon city park and it was well worth the effort. The lake waves rolled up on the thin strip of sand practically at our toes. The wind whipped with ferocity and the waves responded. Standing there it was difficult to remember we were at the lake shore. I photographed with delight and was just about to return to the car when the clouds parted and sun shone down just for my pictures! Nothing like grace to bring the brilliance of the colors out of the landscape.

Arriving in Calmut about 2:00 (only it was actually 3:00 because we had crossed over into the Eastern Time Zone again) we went right to the Kewneeaw National Parks building – only to find it closed! My driver had made extensive notes for our stops and there was no warning that the place wasn’t open on Sundays. Turns out, just from September 15-30 it would be closed on Sundays. Starting October, it would only be open on Wednesdays thru Saturdays; after October it would be closed for the winter! Just a little notice would have been nice.

Well, we both needed a comfort stop, so we turned the corner and decided to walk down the main street of town to see what we might find. Everything looked closed and locked up tight. But, just a few blocks down there was a shop open. We asked the clerk where we might find a coffee shop. “Oh, I don’t know. Well, maybe at the end of the shop, here, we sell some coffee.” That was so vague, I just had to ask, “Is there a restroom anywhere?” There was some hesitation, “Well, the gas station around the corner.” I thanked him, not adding that I might be able to look in his shop if I didn’t need something else worse! We walked to where he thought there might be coffee. The place sold beans, but it didn’t look like there was brewed coffee available. That settled it, I was going to find the gas station. A kind patron at the counter turned around and offered, “There’s a coffee shop across the road and they have a restroom.” Thank you! We went across the road only to find that establishment closed. Now, I really was going to the gas station. Although it was sunny, the wind was blowing strong enough to rip the skin right off your face.

At the gas station, of course, I had to ask for a key, but the station manager was a grizzly old fellow who could have cared less and just handed me the key. Well, relieved, I could now enjoy the little town that looked like a place trapped in time. It’s the kind of place that would make a great movie set for a small town in the mid ’50’s.

Back in the same little shop, Randy saw a sign that said “Fresh Coffee – $1.” So, he asked again and pointed to the sign. “Oh, yeah,” the young man said and got a cup to pump the coffee into. After one pump the pot was empty! So Randy got about an inch of coffee for free since the poor guy didn’t think he should charge a dollar for that. So, we bought a piece of fudge named “Lake Superior Mud,” a mix of vanilla and chocolate with caramel swirled in the middle. Very creative.

An adjoining shop sold products made on the UP (Upper Peninsula) and I saw a shelf full of a variety of my son’s favorite hat. I texted him a picture and we ended up talking by phone – after, of course, the phone died twice in the process. But we did get him a hat in the right size and desired color. Nothing like buying local products. Especially one so unique and made right here on the UP.

We drove back to Houghton where we had reserved a room. Being famished, we made our usual question to the desk clerk, “Where would you recommend for dinner?” She gave us a number of options and we set out on a walk to take a look and see what sounded the best. The Chinese place was closed; the Italian place was just closing it’s doors at 4:00; the pizza place was open; the bar and grill, closed. It was beginning to look bleak. The only other shop on the street that was open was a book store. Not being able to pass by a book store, even when hungry, I stepped in to look. There was no one anywhere around and the clerk stepped out from a back room. He wanted to know how I was. “Well,” I began, “we’re actually looking for a place to eat. Where do people eat here on a Sunday?” He laughed, obviously having recently immigrated to the area. In his thick accent he recommended “The Library.” Oddly, I could understand him just fine, where the local accent was much harder to decipher!

“The Library,” located right on the canal, proved to be the place. Turns out they had a signature soup, creamy Swiss cheese and onion, and it was delicious. Randy said he had the best sandwich of the trip so far.

Afterward, I walked down along the canal and took some pictures. The sun was setting and the place was so entirely picturesque, it was a delightful walk. One thing I noticed – the entire town is in some way trying to reinvent itself. It had once been a mining town, but now the mines are deserted and turned into tourist attractions. The movie theater is a refurbished insurance agency; the churches are museums; the old library, a bar and grill; the Hanford House, a tattoo parlor; and so on. It’s a tiny little town on a beautiful canal leading into Lake Superior trying to grow up and transform itself into a tourist destination.

We left Thunder Bay, Ontario (and the Eastern Time Zone) by crossing the Pigeon River back into the USA. It was so thick with morning fog we could hardly see the road ahead of us. We needed that great reserve of faith to believe there was a lake out there somewhere. We were closely following the shoreline of Lake Superior, but nothing was visible!

By 8:30 we were back in the Central Time Zone and were just in time for the doors of Grand Portage Visitor Center to open. It’s a lovely spot situated on Lake Superior that tells the story of the French traders and voyageurs working with the Ojibway Indians to find an overland passage for portage of their goods. They needed to carry materials overland to avoid the Pigeon River’s rapids. There was a very informative museum and film detailing the history of the cooperation between the trappers and the Native Americans.  Of course, beaver pelt was the commodity that was in great demand. In 1793, over a period of one year, they shipped 180,000 beaver pelts across the grand portage to Lake Superior and points East, all the way to Europe and beyond. Some even made it as far as Russia.We walked down into the fort of Grand Portage that has been recreated on the exact spot. Electing not to stay for the ranger led tour, we saw what interested us and moved on.

Once again, moving south along the shoreline of Lake Superior, we marveled when about noon the lake revealed itself. We stopped at a Minnesota State Park for comfort and coffee and took a little hike. It was situated on a cliff right at the lake’s edge. Stunningly beautiful . . . what we could see of it. The fog was still lifting.

Eventually we reached Duluth and turned east when the lake allowed and drove into the city of Superior in Wisconsin. The Northern Lakes Visitor Center for the Apostle Islands was our destination. These 22 islands in Lake Superior are a National Park and only accessible by boat. We didn’t allow for the time to go out exploring by boat, but we did learn all about the history and ecology of the region. It looks like another place to plan for a return trip when we can stay longer and fully explore the entire area.

One of the attractions in the museum was a display of tapestries made by an Ojibway woman who wove them on her loom. She combined ancient technique with current technology and computer assisted images, but the results were like nothing I had ever seen. Quite remarkable – and beautiful.

As we made our way to the car after our visit, we realized we were hot! During our travels from Thunder Bay at 7:45 a.m. to Ashland, Michigan at 5:15 p.m. the temperature had gone from 42 degrees to 78 and from dense fog to scattered clouds and showers. That’s quite a difference in one day’s travels. No wonder we felt hot!

Our stomachs told us it was time to stop for fuel, so we made a swing through the main street of Ashland and settled on cheap and quick – pizza. It was nothing great; it wan’t bad; and it filled us satisfactorily. While we ate, a huge cloud burst emptied the skies and we thought we would get drenched going back out to the car. However, by the time we were finished, the rain had stopped and the clouds had parted so we could see tiny streaks of pink across the horizon over the lake.

One more jaunt of about 45 miles before we could rest for the night. We finished our fourth hour of “Philosophize This” for today just in time as we crossed over into Michigan State and found our motel in Ironwood.

It was a full day; filled with information; interesting facts; stunning views; intricate weavings; and philosophical discussions. What more could we ask for? It was Superior in every way.

After such a long day yesterday, we didn’t crack out quite so early. By 10:00 a.m. we were crossing the border back into the USA to visit Voyageurs National Park. This is the place where French voyageurs came to trap the much sought after beaver, then found routes to return East with their valuable pelts. The day was overcast and grey, but the lakes were beautiful, nonetheless.  We walked down to the shoreline and visited the native tepee made of birch bark, as well as watched the informative firm and visited the museum. We learned there are 122,000 acres of park, but only 10 miles of road. Most of the park is water, and best explored by canoe or kayak. Since we had forgotten to strap a canoe on our little Prius, we had to make do with what we could see from land. It was still beautiful. But, someday, maybe a water exploration is in order.

Crossing back into Canada, we traveled the Trans Canadian Highway 11 on to Thunder Bay where we had reserved a room for the night. There is a LOT of water and marshlands and very little evidence of civilization over the almost 200 miles! The trees were turning – yellow and red – and at one point we almost hit a hawk or an osprey. Two large birds were feeding on some road kill and swooped up when we approached. Then one swerved to the left, then back right and got dangerously close to our windshield. We heard it lightly skim the roof of the car. That was an experience of nature up close and personal . . . well, maybe just a tiny bit too close.

After driving about two hours we knew we needed a comfort stop. There was nothing on the map, nothing on the GPS, nothing giving any information of any possible stop. Finally, we saw a sign for Atikokan. We turned off. Atikokan is a tiny town of about 1,000 inhabitants. We drove down Main Street and decided to stop at a bar and grill. It wasn’t open. We went farther down the street to PJ’s Pizza. It wasn’t open. We crossed the street to ask someone in the Bargain Market where we might find a bit of lunch. Just then two women emerged and I asked, “Where might we find a little lunch in town?” They graciously directed us to “the mall” and a tiny restaurant called “Little Darling.” They assured us we would find something delicious there.

The “mall” was a building with maybe 3 shops in it, and in the back was “Little Darling.” We hesitated, but we didn’t have much other choice.  And, besides, we were more interested in their comfort facilities, and not so much their food. Ordering hamburgers, thinking that would be quick, we took a seat and waited. The hamburgers came in a homemade bun, the meat mixed with spices and onion. They were juicy, hot and entirely delicious! Those ladies knew what they were talking about. Always trust the recommendations of the locals!

More and more and more of Trans Canadian 11, until Randy said “Oh! I saw a beaver dam. We have to turn around.” Which he did. I jumped out of the car – there was no one on the road but us – and ran across the street to take some pictures. It was a full-blown beaver dam, with a lake at the highest level of the dam, and a stream flowing out at a lower level. It was almost more exciting than seeing the hawk just about hit the windshield!

People always ask why I like beavers so much. Well, I tell them, beavers are industrious, hard working and very family oriented. They spend a major part of their time building and maintaining a home for their family. And, most interesting of all, people think beavers live in lakes, but they don’t. Beavers live in streams and create a lake around them. I feel like that’s the story of my life. And, so beyond being very cute and furry creatures, I identify with the hard working, creative and family minded beaver.

There were 4 more hours today of “Philosophize This” to entertain us and we learned about Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas. Spirited conversations followed each episode. The miles (or kilometers) flew away behind us.

About 5:00 we needed another comfort stop and by this time we were coming close to some habitation. Stopping in the village of Kakabeka Falls, we also got some petrol for Dixie before making the final kilometers to Thunder Bay.

Checking into the motel, we asked the clerk for a recommendation for dinner. He directed us to “Naxos” just a block away. We could walk! So, we did. It was Greek food and was tasty and delicious. Just perfect after a long day. I had never had avgolemono soup before, but I will be trying the recipe at home as soon as I can. It was unforgettably delicious.

Although few, the local Canadians we met today were delightful and we will long remember the kind advice they gave us for finding some delicious local cuisine. Everything is grace.

We left Stanley with an early roll out and were on the road at 8:06! But, we knew it was going to be a long road day. Overnight it had rained, so the air felt blessedly fresh and clear, even though the skies were overcast.

Having started listening to “Philosophize This,” we spent the entire day (8 hours of driving . . . so about 6 hours of “Philosophize This”) listening to more. It was especially fun to stop after each episode and discuss what we had learned.

We made our first comfort stop in Rugby, ND which boasts the notoriety of being the geographical center of the North American Continent. We remember stopping there for gas in 1989 when we were traveling with the kids on the way to grandma’s house. The station manager was so delighted we were interested in their unique geographical statistic that he gave each of the kids a Popsicle! It wasn’t as hot today, however, as it was on that day! A light rain continued to fall throughout the day today, but it was blessedly fresh after so many days of being in a cloud of smoke. I’m sure this rain is the answer to so many prayers.

We made another stop at the intersection of Highway 66 and 44 – just a bump in the road. This is in the northern most area of North Dakota, and we were traveling east to Fort Frances, Ontario. The landscape was surprisingly beautiful, even in the rain! Road work delayed us for about 20 minutes along the way and we made our last U.S. comfort stop in Warroad, MN, right at the foot of Lake of the Woods. A few miles farther down the road and we crossed into Canada at Boudette as we took the bridge over the Rainy River that marks the border.

Canada seemed more colorful, even in the rain. The trees are turning and with the fields of sunflowers, hay and what we think may have been a golden wheat, as well as some pumpkins . . . it was a delightful ride.

Our room for the night is on the Ontario side of  Rainy Lake at the La Place Rendez-vous. And it is RIGHT on the lake. Even in the rain and waning light, it’s beautiful.

We were so hungry after such a long day in the car without stopping for food, that we checked into our room and went directly to the restaurant. Thankfully, the second to the last empty table in the dining room was available for us. Gratefully, we enjoyed a hot meal that was more than adequate. And, afterward, even before bringing in the luggage, we walked out to the lake shore to take some pictures.

When we finally went inside it was still lightly raining, baptizing everything in sight.

The wildfires throughout the West have seemed to consume so much of our worry about where to go and what we can see this trip that they even invaded my dreams last night. I kept hearing helicopters coming over our motel and landing on the rooftop – over and over again. I was sure we were supposed to get word of an evacuation to get out of our room and to the helicopters, yet no one was coming to wake us with the warning. Eventually, I woke up enough to realize it was simply the very loud air conditioner kicking on in its effort to keep our room comfortable.

As I checked out of our room this morning I asked the clerk how the name of this town is pronounced. We were saying “Have’ ra” with short “a”s, somewhat like we thought Havre would be pronounced in France.  But the clerk was incensed. “Well, we’re not French around here! It’s “Haw’ ver”.” I’ve learned to always ask the locals and never assume I know something I don’t! Traveling is a learning experience, too.

Today was a long day in the car just making tracks. Some days simply have to be like that to get to the next place of adventure along our route.

The sky was overcast, still laced with smoke from fires, and the temperature 39 when we packed the car to head out. We slid onto Highway 2 and just kept going. The landscape was Montana ranch lands and hay fields with that signature Big Sky as far as the eye could see. Well, today that wasn’t as far as usual because of the lingering smoke coming down from the wildfires in Canada.

To keep us entertained as we drove, we listened to Steve West’s podcast “Philosophize This.” Randy had downloaded 5 years of his by-monthly recordings and we were rapt. At one point he taught us about how Plato, as a young man, had gone on a long road trip and how it had expanded and enriched his life. “That’s what we’re doing,” we exclaimed to each other. At the end of every episode, Steve West says “Thank you for wanting to know more today than you knew yesterday.” I can’t help but think there is grace in that gratitude – and grace in the knowledge that comes from being inquisitive. I think we’ll be learning a lot more as we go.

We made comfort stops along the way: at a town park in Malta, where I saw two deer; in Glasgow, where we also filled the gas tank and had a cup of delicious tortilla soup; in Wolfe Point; and after crossing over into North Dakota and the Central Time Zone, one final stop in Williston before reaching our destination for the night in Stanley, N.D.

We had a quick sandwich at the motel restaurant and wish we hadn’t. It was a reminder that some places are better than others . . . but you never know until you try!

I took a long walk out along the parking lot and the prairie. It was a beautiful evening with the sun trying to peek through the gathered clouds and haze. A small river flows right along the parking lot of the hotel and wild flowers fill the adjacent fields. As I walked I prayed and sang: “From the ocean, through the mountains, to the prairie, now I roam. God bless America, my home sweet home.”

Our last morning in our little apartment began with scrambled eggs with cheese and toast – just because we had to eat the last of our provisions. We washed up the dishes and packed the car. We were set to go by 8:30 and leaving Meadow Lake by 8:45 after my driver got his morning coffee. But, first . . . a warning light was telling us that tire pressure was low. Thankfully, we were still in town and pulled into a station to put some air in the tires. After a bit of fumbling around, we realized the air hose wasn’t working properly. Off to another station farther down the road. Their air hose worked just fine and the tires were happy again; the light went off and we went on.

On our way to Havre, MT, our destination for today, we took Highway 2 all the way, noticing how the landscape went from mountains to rolling hills before flattening for grazing or agriculture that supported livestock. There were lots of fields with hay bales as we moved East through the area. But, the land is very dry here, too, and we could still see clouds of fire smoke hanging over everything.

Arriving in Havre by about 2:00 we promptly found a place for lunner (that’s lunch and dinner). Deciding where to eat on the road is always an exercise in discernment . . . and then trusting that what we do find is actually what we really wanted. We set out for a place called Duckie’s Cafe and ended up at Wolfer’s instead because we’d missed a turn and were trying to backtrack. However, Wolfer’s was between here and there and it looked inviting. It was a tiny diner right out of the 1950’s with a menu to match. We ate and were more than satisfied, taking half of our plates with us to finish later.

Next stop, the nearby town of Chinook and the Blaine County Museum. This museum also covers as a National Park site for the Bear Paw Battlefield where the Nez Perce Indians were forced to surrender their lands to U.S. troops after a four month battle in September of 1877. It was the last battle of the Indian Wars. It’s always so sobering to learn the details of some of the injustices that our country has inflicted on others. But, it is a necessary learning. If we are not aware, we are destined to repeat our mistakes instead of learning how to work to overcome them the next time.

As we have found so many times, some of the little county museums are amazingly detailed. Only this one was not little at all. It was two full floors packed with Montana history from the earliest days of settlers in the area.  One of the most fascinating displays for me was a photo collection of locals who had sat for the town photographer in the late 1800’s to early 1900’s. The collection is extensive, as the family of the photographer donated all his work to the museum. The selected subjects that were displayed were engaging and haunting. One of the most touching for me was a photo of an Hispanic man, a migrant worker who came to these parts to work in the sugar beet fields. In the portrait he is wearing suit and tie and hat, with a small picture of his wife and three daughters tucked in his jacket pocket.  It was probably the only way he could have a family photo.

There were also rooms and rooms of beautiful Native American hand crafts; settler quilts and lace; as well as tools and implements for both home and farm.

There were two objects that I could not help capture in a photo. I could hardly imagine what use they once had! See if you can figure out. The answers will be posted tomorrow.

We stayed until the museum closed and Randy helped the curator take down her flag signaling she was going home. It was an informative and  educational afternoon. Since all the signage that was once at the Bear Paw Battlefield was now located in the museum, we elected to skip driving the extra hour to stand on the actual site.

Instead, we found our way to the motel and packed in for the night. I took a two mile walk along Highway 2 (there was a wide sidewalk through town) and then we settled in to rest up for tomorrow’s adventures.

The day began slowly, with more haze and smoke in the atmosphere. That’s certainly what slowed us down. We ate breakfast late and didn’t make it down to the coffee cart until they had closed for the day!

So, we read, did the wash, and started packing up our belongings before we decided on an afternoon ride over to Whitefish Lake. It turned out to be a most welcome journey. There are not superlatives enough to describe the beauty of this spot! I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves. There were only about ten people on the beach on this 80 degree day in September. Someone had strung two hammocks between the trees and I had to capture the iconic shot. What’s a day at the lake for if you can’t spend it in a hammock reading a good book?

As the afternoon progressed, the smoky haze lessened and we saw some more of the panoramic Montana countryside. Mountains providing a backdrop for fields of hay; horses enjoying the sunshine; and deer out walking at the same time I was!We came back to make our chicken salad for dinner and then walked down to the Pro Shop where we had made arrangements to rent a golf cart for the evening. Neither one of us having ever golfed, we had never even ridden in one. This golf course is so beautiful and so expansive – and because of the fires, so sparsely used, I had asked if we could just get a golf cart and drive around the course for the pleasure of it. The manager told us to come back at 7:00 and we could have a cart until dark.

We felt like two little kids at the carnival. It was so much fun just driving through the trees, along the greens, and in and among the meadows with deer casually munching their dinner. We got lost several times, not really knowing how to read golf maps, but eventually found our way back to the Pro Shop just after sunset. If anyone thought we were crazy, they never let on. The two guys at the Pro Shop were gracious and helpful in every way. We only wish we had asked for a few directions!

As we returned to our place, the pink sky over the mountains was fading fast. This being our last day, we admired it before going in. We want to remember this beauty and this time forever.