The Camping Box

I guess some things are nearly packed. (Pre-packed? Packed in preparation for packing?) I am referring to the Kitchen Stuff. All the Kitchen Stuff is ready because Mom’s Camping Box is going along. Dad built the Camping Box for Mom in their early years together. Gosh, that would make it over 40 years old now. Tightly packed inside that gray plywood box, with its rope handles and hinged door (approximately knee-high, a foot and a half deep and two and a half feet wide), is every kitchen utensil any person could possibly ever need to cook with while camping, including all the dishes, silverware, pots and pans, dishwashing stuff, hot mitts - and oh, yeah, don’t forget the compass, the deck of playing cards and the snakebite kit. It was, and still is, a marvel to me, how the two of them put the Camping Box together. Sure, it's kind of heavy and takes up a bit of space, but I’ll figure out how to fit it in. And nothing will rattle, either. There’s nothing like the fragrance that rushes out when you open the Camping Box - a combination of Dial soap, pepper, matches and Brillo pads. Just opening it takes me back to my childhood. This is what it looks like inside now - but it isn't ready for the trip quite yet. I'll post another picture when it's all organized and ready.



Now that I think about it, it’s quite possible that I may have inherited my Gypsy Heart from my Dad. I think he built the Camping Box and The Gray Box (which was much bigger and was lashed to the roof of the station wagon) specifically for the Cross-Country Camping Trip. We started out in North Carolina and drove across the entire United States, ending up in California, where we visited my Aunt and Uncle. I believe my brother was ten years old at the time, which would make me about six years old and my sister, Pam, just a toddler. I have a renewed appreciation for the patience of my parents - I cannot even imagine taking a long-distance road trip like that with three small children. We tent-camped the entire way, too.

I have a child’s memories of that trip, some of which are still as vivid as a color photograph etched in my mind. No memories of the scenery, particularly, nor of special places we visited - no, what I remember are things like the tiny bandanna halters Mom made for my sister and I. I thought Mom was a magician when made them: she folded two bandannas in half diagonally and tied them in knots. One knot was placed in the center of my scrawny little chest, another under the tangle of curls at the nape of my neck, and the third in the middle of my back. It was magic, pure and simple. Three simple knots and I felt like a movie star.

I remember the hand puppets my parents had hoped would keep us occupied on the road, and Dad pulling over and yanking me out of the car to paddle my behind right there on the side of the road, when the puppets didn’t work. I guess I always was a bit of a troublemaker.

Dad wasn't happy when I opted out of going to see the Anasazi ruins at Mesa Verde,either. The way I saw it, why would I want to traipse around out there looking at a bunch of old rocks when there were toys at the ranger station to play with? He finally relented and my sister and I stayed behind while my Big Brother went with my parents. To me, Mesa Verde was the place where the water froze in the collapsible canvas Army bucket, and the rain froze on the tent fly. Mom and Dad hadn't been prepared for weather like that - they had to buy us each a sweatshirt so we could keep warm.

Oh, yes. Every time I open the Camping Box, memories come flooding back. And the Camping Box definitely has to go with me. It’s what my road trip camping memories are made of!

The Airstream Dream

Last weekend, I went to look at an old Airstream that’s been languishing on a local travel trailer dealer’s lot. To my mind's eye, it was an overlooked gem - I could see such potential when I peeked through the windows. The reality was much different. My first clue should have been the amused smile the salesman gave me when I asked about the Airstream. The second clue probably should have been when he just handed me the key. "You just go take a look at it," he said, with a grin. "We don’t own it - we’re trying to sell it for someone else."

My heart beat a little faster as I approached the only slightly dented aluminum twinkie. I fitted the key into the lock, and when I turned it, the door popped open slightly, as if to invite me inside. I stepped up, and took a serious look at my first used Airstream.

The first thing I noticed were the half-empty boxes of D-Con on the floor. I squared my shoulders and prepared for the worst as I headed to the back of the trailer, to the bathroom. Figured I might as well start at one end and go all the way through.

I really have no idea of the age of this particular trailer, although I suspect it is a 1972, from the photos I've found. Airstream has a reputation for good construction, for being "the best of the best." I suppose at some point in time plastic would have been the wave of the future and the "best of the best." Everything was plastic. All of the trimwork (some of which was detached and laying on the floor); the tambour doors of the cupboards (which, of course, would not open). Even the slightly warped drawers that almost opened when I tugged really hard on them were plastic. The plastic faux-wood grain on the front of the fridge was bowed out of shape from years of exposure to heat and cold. I held my breath and opened the fridge - it was amazingly clean, as was the freezer. The stove, however, was a mess. No wonder the mice had moved in.

Even my expansive imagination couldn’t wrap its comforting arms all the way around this project.

Maybe once I have my major travel trips out of the way, I could consider buying an Airstream in this kind of shape and refurbishing it. You know, as a hobby or something. But until then, I think I’m going to look at an alternative - a Rockwood Mini-Lite 1809S. I was going to post a photo of it here, but you'll just have to Google it. This little beauty costs a fraction of what the Airstream Flying Cloud I’d been lusting over costs, and I wouldn’t have to buy a heavy-duty truck to haul it, either.

Win/win.

Anticipation vs. Impatience

Okay, I’ve come to the conclusion that I started planning this trip way too early. I now have 23 days left until my departure, and there’s nothing left to do but wait. I haven’t really packed anything, and I really can’t do much serious packing until I have the RV in the driveway. I do have a box in the dining room that I have been tossing things into as I think of them, to be consolidated for travel when the time comes.

This has left me with plenty of time to contemplate the difference between anticipating the trip and being impatient for departure, which took all of two minutes. Anticipation and impatience are the same thing - just ask Webster. In the future, I hereby resolve to plan trips a month or two ahead, tops. (Yeah, right - like I haven’t already planned trips to the Texas coast, the Minnesota Boundary Waters and the East Coast).

Not much has been happening as far as trip preparations go. I have all my final destinations all laid out. I bought "chilly neckerchiefs" and a "chilly pad" for the dogs, to keep them cool while we travel through the desert areas, and for hikes, too - you know, just in case. I’ve tried a couple of the non-refrigerated all-natural Indian entrees I plan to take for dinners. I’ve paid the rental for the RV.

In the meantime, I’ve also caught a head cold. I don’t, however, plan to take that with me.

RVing Accessories

While searching the internet for 50 amp adapters today, I came across some very interesting accessories when I entered the words "RV Camper" into the search engine.

For example, it seems there are entire albums of music dedicated to riding the road - two of them, anyway. "RV Songs - Life on the American Road" and "RV Songs: Bluegrass Hits the Road" were both immediately available. One of them (the bluegrass one) even had a three-star rating. I have no idea who rated it, or why they gave it three stars (three stars out of five? Ten?) but I was fascinated. Who knew there was music tailored to the RVing way of life? There are so many things I’m learning day by day.

I was also surprised that my search revealed no less than six different Bibles (most of which were in Spanish). That was a bit unsettling - why on earth would you need to pray so much on the road?

Refraining from buying RVing doodads on the internet for the time being seems like a good idea right now. Since I’m a neophyte, I think one of the local outfits would be the way to go. I can tell them what I think I need and for what purpose. That way I can be sure I’m getting the right thing. And if I play my cards right, they can also tell me about all the other things I may need but don’t yet know about. I figure I can make another list, call Casey and ask if all these things are included with the RV or if I’m going to have further monetary outlays I don’t know about yet.

I've tried to keep from buying all kinds of stuff for the trip, because who knows if I'll need any of it again. The double-sized airbed was a no-brainer, though. The way I see it, if you don't have a decent night's rest, nothing goes right. Yes, the airbed was an absolute necessity, and so were the sheets for the bed - and the waterproof fitted sheet to go over the whole thing. But other than that and the Brita filter water pitcher, I really haven't bought a whole lot specifically for the trip.

The dogs are all ready. Other than some kibble, their canned food is all set aside. And a couple cowpokes for the road (you may call them bully sticks, but we've always called them cowpokes. Get it? It's what a bull uses it for - a cow poke?) The rawhides are all ready, and the vet records, too. Winnie's travel bed is already downstairs, but I'll be sure to bring her memory foam bed and a few others along, too. One can never have too many dog beds. That's my way of thinking.

Tomorrow is one of the big days - it begins the one-month countdown, and the rent for the RV is due! A day for celebration!

The Sontosky Wormhole Effect

My last big road trip involved assisting my sister with her job-related move from Portland, Oregon to Hurst, Texas, a community roughly halfway between Dallas and Fort Worth.

I flew into Portland, and after picking me up at the airport, Pam whisked me away to the coast so we could say our goodbyes to the breathtaking beauty of Oregon’s rocky shoreline and crashing untamed ocean. After we got back to her place in Beaverton, we finished stuffing the remainder of her belongings into her brand spanking new Hyundai Santa Fe, and then we were on our way - the two of us and her two furchildren, Sergei and Dani.

Much of that trip is best left in the fuzziness of stress-induced memory loss. I can tell you it was no picnic. Pam was leaving everything and everyone she loved to move to an unknown place in order to remain employed. Be that as it may, we did have lots of fun just being with each other, and we made a new discovery - The Sontosky Wormhole Effect.

The name originates with Pam’s best friend, Valerie, who married a wonderful guy named Andy Sontosky. Pam and I had planned to have dinner and stay overnight with Val and Andy on our way through Colorado. Keep in mind, this was no sightseeing trip. We stopped only for fuel, food and what Pam calls "bio-breaks." Still, we found it was getting later and later and Colorado and the Sontosky B&B were a very long way away.

Pam called Valerie to update her on our progress. I was not privy to the entire conversation, but after Pam got off the phone, I could see even in the twilight that her face was pink with frustration and the effort of remaining civil. "Val asked what was taking us so long!" she exclaimed. "And then Andy grabbed the phone and asked if we were driving 35 mph and stopping at every rest stop!"

I nearly blew a gasket. "What the hell?" I raged. "What do they expect us to do? I’m going 80, and I have been all along!"

We vented at each other until we were all vented out (which was actually quite beneficial, considering the level of stress in the car), with the dogs adding their little sharp-voiced opinions, and after a while we were able to laugh about it.

"This phenomenon needs a name," I declared. "We should call it the ‘Sontosky Effect.’"

"No!" Pam said, laughing. "That’s not good enough - it should be the ‘Sontosky Wormhole Effect.’ No matter how fast you go, it isn’t going to be fast enough and you’re never going to get there quickly enough!"

I know, I know - technically, wormholes transport things at a much faster rate than one would normally expect, but not the Sontosky Wormhole Effect. It works just the opposite. And that’s what makes it special.

We’ve both noticed since then that the Sontosky Wormhole Effect plays a big part in long-distance trips for both of us. I watched for it when I drove down to see Pam in Texas, and she kept a record when she drove up to see me. It seems that no matter what Google says, if we tack on just about an hour, we’ll be right on time. It doesn’t matter how fast or slow we drive, and it doesn’t matter how many "bio-breaks" we take.

Oh, and as for the Sontosky B&B? We finally pulled up there at 2 a.m. So much for dinner! Still, the Sontosky's were gracious hosts, and we got a good night's sleep before heading out the next morning.

Mindful of BSL

I know this entry might ruffle a few feathers - or maybe even raise a few hackles, as it were. Breed Specific Legislation is truly a hot button when you move in the circles I do. But the fact is, I really don’t like worrying about traveling through cities that have enacted BSL and I don't like being banned from specific RV parks because I own a LabraPit.

In truth, I never set out to own a pit bull. I’ve always been an advocate of adopting shelter dogs and have always been very active in supporting our local humane society. I’d never really ever met a pit bull, but even though I prided myself on keeping an open mind and told every person I met that I had no prejudice against any breed, I realized only after I adopted Star that all along I had viewed pit bulls and pit bull mixes as trouble. Someone else’s trouble. I recognize now that back then ("BS" - Before Star), I would just pass by any kennel that held a pittie or pit mix.

On the fateful day I became a pit mix owner, I was at the shelter delivering shoe boxes for the kitties, and (of course) I took a walk through the kennels. And there she was. All alone - the last of her litter. It was plain to see she was depressed. While all the other dogs were voicing their various opinions, Star had nothing left to say. She didn’t even raise her head when I knelt and talked to her. At that point, something changed, and I no longer saw her as a liability - she was a sad, lonely puppy who needed a loving home. Nothing more and nothing less. And so Star came to live with the rest of our pack.

I haven’t been banned from anywhere yet, nor has my insurance company informed me that they’re dropping my coverage because I own a "dangerous" breed. I’m always quick to point out that Star has her Canine Good Citizenship Award, and is certified to do Pet Therapy in nursing homes and hospitals (as are Tim and Winnie). And, just to be safe, I always call Star a "Lab Mix." In fact, when Animal Control first sent me her registration papers, I asked that they change her breed from "Pit Mix" to "Lab Mix." You know, just in case the City of Lincoln ever decides to enact BSL.

Star could help things if she would just look relaxed and happy. From most angles, her head is definitely shaped like a Labrador’s. But at just the right angle - just so - her Pit Bull heritage is plain. Honestly, I think it is physically impossible for Star’s face to ever get a doggy grin on it. Her flews, her eyes - nothing about Star’s face can look anything but serious. Not threatening or particularly unhappy - just serious. Star looks serious with ropes of drool hanging from her face when she’s begging for treats. She looks serious when she’s stealing Tim’s toys. She even looks serious while her tail is wagging her whole body when I come in the front door. And she looks serious when she’s rolling around on her back in the grass (well, actually, I can’t see her face when she’s rolling in grass - maybe she looks happy then). I can’t help but smile when I look over and she’s sitting in the passenger seat, looking straight ahead while I drive. The perfect, serious copilot.

But, to get to the point, one of the cities I’m driving through is Denver, Colorado. I read very sad stories about Denver’s enactment of BSL. Authorities went from house to house and confiscated family pets - dogs who had never done anything wrong - and these loving family pets were euthanized, just because they happened to be pit bulls. And I do worry - if I want to walk Star in a park, will I be ticketed? Do I need to hide in the shadows, or race from the shelter of one tree to the next? If I am seen walking Star, could she be confiscated, whisked away to be euthanized because I had the audacity to bring her with me?

I know, it sounds a bit melodramatic.

But I think about it, just the same.

Sustainable Energy (or, How to Keep Things Shiny When the Clouds Come Up)

One thing I’ve noticed is that not everyone shares my enthusiasm for The Big Trip. The tally is almost even - for every person who is excited for me, there is nearly always one person who will give me at least one (and sometimes more) of the following responses:

"Isn’t your husband going with you?"
"Aren’t you afraid to go alone?"
"Isn’t that an awfully long way?"
"What if something bad happens?"

I’ll have to admit, sometimes even my chrome-plated enthusiasm can occasionally become slightly tarnished.

One thing I’ve learned is that it takes a lot of energy to keep a positive attitude. Good weather helps. So does lots of sleep. If you don’t have good weather and you can't sleep (because the weather sucks and you can't stop thinking about the trip), a cup of tea or a mocha can give you a bit of a boost in the afternoons. Those 10-hour Energy drinks are kind of nice, too.

Making lists can also be very therapeutic for those times when doubts arise. The way I see it, if every contingency I can possibly think of is covered, nothing can go horribly awry because I will have a plan for taking care of every one of those contingencies. Take, for example, one of the most often mentioned possibilities: road trouble. I plan to bring a toolbox that contains, among other things, duct tape (every man’s favorite tool), an adjustable wrench, vice grips, a multi-blade screwdriver, baling wire, needlenose pliers (with wire cutters), a tire pressure gauge and superglue. I also have a milk crate set aside that will hold windshield washer fluid, a bottle of antifreeze and a couple of quarts of oil. One should never forget bungees and a hank of rope - and a rubber hammer. You never know when a rubber hammer can come in handy.

Oh, right. For when all else fails, my cell phone and AAA card. (Those are for the "Flat Tire Contingency" and/or the "Total Breakdown Contingency.")

If good weather, a cup of tea and making a list fails to renew my enthusiasm for the trip, I’ve found that pulling out the atlas can catapult me back into Trip Dreamland. I sometimes wonder if I inherited my love of maps from my Dad. What a collection of maps he had! I'll bet Dad would have loved the Internet. You can investigate virtually anywhere you want to go quickly and thoroughly. Nothing fuels dreams better than photographs of those faraway places you want to see in person. Just a couple of clicks, and before you know it, everything’s shiny again!

Traveling with the Ancient One

This morning, when I rolled over to pet Winnie, she wasn’t in her bed. Unfortunately, she left something behind.

As I picked it up and deposited it in the toilet, it occurred to me that traveling with one ancient dog, one senior dog and one dog in the prime of life may prove to be something of a challenge.

Sadly enough, time has not slowed its unkind march for Winnie. She’s still spry enough, although she thinks twice these days before she decides if she really wants to go upstairs, and is content to let me lift her into the back of the Dogmobile. Harry says Winnie seems to be a little on the forgetful side, too. She’ll wander into the kitchen and get that look on her face (that look I so often get). You know, that look that says, "Now, why did I come in here?" And sometimes, while we’re on a walk, she’ll stop suddenly, get a surprised look on her face, and just drop a turd right there in the middle of the sidewalk.

Some might say I should just leave Winnie at home. You know, the "let a sleeping dog lie" thing; just let her relax on her couch and go on with her days as they always are. But Harry and I both agree - Winnie would be heartbroken if she was left behind without Tim and Star. Anthropomorphism? Nope. The three of them are a pack. They truly love each other, and they love doing things together. And Winnie, Star, and Tim love me more than anything in the world.

So, Winnie is definitely going. But I have to face some hard facts. Winnie may die on this trip. When you’re an eighteen year old greyhound, the promise of another morning is by no means guaranteed, and although not all stress is bad stress, traveling in an unknown vehicle to unknown parts and sleeping in unknown places, even though she will be with almost all of her family, is going to be stressful. And stress takes a toll on a body.

Of course, Tim could also die. He’s on daily medications to help his failing kidneys. Still, Tim seems to be holding his own. His blood values have stabilized, and his seizures have ceased, so I’m comfortable that he’ll make it with no troubles. I’m not worried at all about my Star. She’s in the prime of her life, a happy, lively, sinewy bundle of muscle and bone that just exudes health and vigor. Yes, I know, there’s always the possibility that we could all get into a fiery accident and die a horrible death. And I could walk out of my office building and get hit by a bus. But, for some reason, none of that worried me nearly as much as figuring out what to do with the shell of what used to be a beautiful, fleet-footed, loving sighthound if she abandons her mortal coil when we are far from home.

I was contemplating these deep thoughts when my sister called.

"Hi, Pam! Hey, what am I going to do if Winnie dies on the trip?" I asked.

"Excuse me?" Her voice almost squeaked on the last bit. I must have caught her unprepared.

"I was just thinking about it. Winnie could die on the trip. What would I do with her body?"

Pam was silent as she considered.

I couldn’t help it - I burst out laughing. "Sorry! I just had this mental image of tying her on top of the RV, like in ‘Summer Vacation.’"

"Or ‘Little Miss Sunshine!’" We both laughed for a while. It was cathartic.

She said, "Well, you know what you could do is put her in a trash bag, and then put her in the bathroom and close the door."

"And then what? I can’t imagine leaving her in there for the whole trip!" I made a face as I considered the smell. (I have a very good imagination.) "I suppose I could take her to the next town and see if there’s a veterinary hospital that would cremate her and send me the ashes."

Another thoughtful silence. "Yeah, you could do that."

"Or I guess I could just bury her somewhere." I paused and reconsidered. "No. I couldn’t do that. It just doesn’t seem dignified, and I would hate it if something dug her up and ate her. Plus, it might not be legal."

To Pam's relief, our conversation moved on to other things, but when Harry picked me up for lunch, I brought the topic up and we talked about it on the way home. I was surprised when Harry told me he doesn’t think Winnie is even going to last until our departure date. I definitely don't agree with that assessment. I have to keep in mind, though, that Harry doesn't see Winnie chasing Star around; hasn't seen her dive into a play bow, barking at me while patting the carpet with her front paws. He doesn't see her jump into bushes looking for bunnies. These are things I see almost daily. The Winnie he sees is the one who's tired from a long run; the one who carefully looks before leaping onto the settle; the one who waits patiently for me to lift her up into the Dogmobile.

When we pulled up in front of the house, Winnie was at the front door looking for us, those big, long ears of hers standing straight up, and Harry and I high-fived each other, just like we do every day we see her standing there.

I feel much better, having had those conversations. Kind of like I have a plan. And so, with that out of the way, my course is clear. This weekend, I will buy rubber sheets.

And, hopefully, I won’t need them.

Some Major Modifications; the Final Plan

Sometimes I wish I were a spontaneous person. I have a friend who just jumps in her car and takes off, wherever the road may take her. Unfortunately, I'm just not built that way. I love to plan. To me, that's a big part of the fun of a trip.

April 1st was when I started making my reservations, early enough that I wouldn’t have any troubles finding openings. Seems I was the April Fool! Two of my intended destinations are already booked solid, one of which was Best Friends Animal Sanctuary - one of the principal "reasons" for my trip!

A hot debate had already gone on in my head about how a visit to Best Friends was going to work, because I would have the pups with me. Best Friends doesn't have kenneling facilities, so my choices would be to leave them locked up in the RV while I did a tour, or just camp on-site and cling to the fence, longingly looking in. Since Best Friends was full, the decision came easily. I’d skip that part of the trip this time around, and make plans to go another time, sans pups, with one of my friends who had expressed interest in going with me.

And now that Best Friends is no longer my principal destination, it looks like I’m going to get my kicks on Route 66! (Well, what used to be Route 66. It’s now mostly Route 40, I believe). The Mother Road has been on my "list" since the movie "Cars." I'd even bought a book about the whole experience. So, I’ll postpone one trip, and substitute another!

With Kanab no longer part of the equation and the Mother Road now part of it, I could accept the invitation of a long-time friend of mine who lives in Albuquerque. From Albuquerque, it's a hop, skip and a jump up to Raton, and then back through Denver, on to Ogallala, and then back home.

(I think this might be a good time and place for a plug for the Good Sam Club. If you ever decide to try Rving, I would highly recommend joining. The research available on their site is thorough, and members get discounts at every park. I have to admit, I was resistant to signing up. When I thought of the Good Sam Club, I thought of Wes, my boss when I worked for the IREA right out of high school. I can still see Wes, with his carefully combed and Brylcreemed steel-grey hair, deep tan, piercing dark eyes and cigarette stained fingers. He was a crabby, crusty old fart, and a hard-core Rver. He and his wife would start on their trips early in the Spring, and they were gone every weekend until it started getting cold - and then sometimes they’d pack things up and head out for a month to warmer climes. After Wes, I couldn’t help but link Good Sam with crabby old men.)

This past weekend, I finally finished making all my reservations. It was a lot like work, but today, I confirmed the last two reservations over the phone (the rest were over the Internet), and I’m really very happy.

Here’s a list of places I’m going to stay, in order (friends houses are not included):

Country View RV Park, Ogallala, NE
http://www.cvcampground.com/
(I’ll be staying here twice - once on the way out, and again on the way back)

Buckboard Crossing, Wyoming
http://www.recreation.gov/campgroundDetails.do?topTabIndex=CampingSpot&contractCode=NRSO&parkId=70083

Double Dice RV Park in Elko, NV
http://doubledicervpark.com/

Coachland RV Park in Truckee, CA
http://www.coachlandrvpark.com/

Orange Grove RV Park in Bakersfield, CA
http://www.orangegrovervpark.com/

Canyon Gateway RV Park in Williams, AZ
http://www.grandcanyonrvparks.com/

I know - some of them look kind of "different." I don’t mind different; in fact, I really kind of like it. Anyway, I figure I’m only staying one night at each place. My criteria for the places I chose were that they had to be pet friendly, and they had to have some sort of hiking nearby - or at least what appeared to be a nice place to walk the dogs after a long day of driving. Internet access was a plus, too.

All of these seem to qualify. I’ll make reports on them while I’m on the road!

The Next Step: Planning the Route

Okay, so the next thing to do was sit down with a map and my computer to figure mileage and what there was along the way that looked interesting.

As I thumbed through my well-loved, dog-eared, battered atlas, a sudden realization came to mind:

This trip is mine.

I can do whatever I want and go see whatever I want to see.
The only schedule will be my schedule.
I can eat what (and when) I want to eat, when (and if) I want to eat.
I can stop where I want to stop and for as long as I want to.
I can take a hike in the middle of the day if I see an interesting lake or state park;
Or
I can just pull over and take a nap if I get sleepy.
The choice will be mine.

Just the thought of all that freedom went straight to my head. How intoxicating!

Then I heard my father’s voice in my head, intoning one of his famous Dad-isms: “With freedom comes responsibility.”

I will be responsible for everything on this trip: how long I want to drive each day (keeping in mind that there will be nobody to take over driving when I get tired); what food I’m going to take and all the utensils I will need to prepare that food; finding places to stay; taking care of the RV (including any emergencies that could arise); and the riding and sleeping arrangements for the dogs and all of their needs.

You'd think that might dampen the spirit just a bit, wouldn't you? But by this time, I was grinning from ear to ear. It’s a list-maker’s dream come true! (Good thing I’m a dyed-in-the-wool, hardcore list maker).

I have a general overview map of my route all ready for this post, but I can't get Blogger to upload it. I'll continue trying to upload it, I promise. When you do get to see the map, keep in mind that this is kind of a rough draft. The first part is pretty well set, but if the Kanab area is really hot and dry, we may not stay more than one night. We might stop in the mountains somewhere on the way back, or even in Denver to see a few folks.

Know what the best part of this wonderful, nebulous plan is?
The choice will be mine!