Where's Adolfo?

Now that we are beginning our third month on the road and Adolfo and I seem to be caught in icy weather, I thought I'd provide a game. During our travels I like to take pictures of Adolfo. In most of my photos Adolfo is behind a camera, but not always.

Anyway, Here's the quiz: I will post a number of photos of Adolfo. You guess where Adolfo is in each photo. Several of the pictures are from the same place. You will have to be a follower of this site to play.

Tip: It will help if you read Adolfo's blog as well. Good luck.

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One Shitty Park—Literally

Warning: Contents of this post may be offensive to some readers

At the visitors’ centers of most national parks you can buy a children’s book called Who Pooped in the Park. The book has often caught my attention, but not as much so as at Theodore Roosevelt National Park. Here the book is pretty much a “must have” guide to wildlife.

As I noted before, the views here are gorgeous. The wildlife is also spectacular—but they come with a cost. They poop. And they poop a lot. Much of the hikes are spent leaping over huge mounds of buffalo poop.




The wild horses create their share of poop, too. Theirs are smaller patties, but still make up the larger poops.



The deer and elk create smaller, more dainty pellets. Much more pleasant to jump over if not too spread out.



Alas, they even fill the roads with their excrement. I’m surprised they spend enough time on the roads to do their business there. Perhaps they just shit and run.

What's Bad About This Land?

Theodore Roosevelt National Park

Looking at a map we noticed that there is a national park just off the interstate in western North Dakota. Neither of us had heard of the park and weren’t expecting what we found here. This place is beautiful. The locals call this are the Badlands. Who knew there was so much "bad land" in the Dakotas. We visited the Badlands in South Dakota several years ago, but didn’t know there was more of this land in the north.

Whoever decided to call the area "Badlands" was quite mistaken. I’d call it painted mountains. The mountains here are ringed in all shades of yellow, red, grey, blue, and black. Green trees add more to the color. The black rings are coal veins. The red rings are burnt coal. Thank goodness this was made into a national park. If not, surely these hills would have been mined many years ago.

The other great feature of this park is the wildlife. Bison are everywhere, and they like to stand near the side of the road. You can drive right by them and nearly touch them from your car window. Praire dogs towns are very near our campground, so we see these little guys scramble every time we drive by. When Adolfo got out of the car to take a close up shot, one of the praire dogs got up on his hind legs and started barking. I decided he was the praire dog town crier.

Deer don’t seem to be as comfortable with humans as the buffalo and praire dogs, but they are all over and we have seen several groups. I was surprised that the area also has a large number of wild horses. Some stand regally at the top of mountains to look over the valleys below. One group had a small colt that gave us a show when we approached. It started jumping and running! Other animals we’ve seen are elk, a beaver, and plenty of birds.

A Nice Surprise

Fargo, North Dakota
and Moorhead, Minnesota

The name Fargo used to make me shiver. The only picture I had of the area was of snow, frigid weather, pregnant cops, and murder (the movie Fargo). A good friend of ours, Curt Skredergaard, grew up in the area, and his descriptions did little to convince me that Moorhead and Fargo were more than ice cold. So, when we arrived here on a warm spring day, I was pleasantly surprised.


Driving through Broadway, Fargo’s downtown was fun. It seems to be the original downtown, but with striving businesses. Upon seeing a teapot advertisement for a bicycle shop/coffee shop, Adolfo and I decided to stop for coffee. The building was just as interesting as the teapot, it was an old train depot. Better yet, they had Italian gelato, so we skipped the coffee and went straight for the gelato. Yes, it is warm here.

A little later, we passed by a very busy skateboard park. Oh boy. It was way too busy to skate, but we decided to return the next morning. When we returned, the teens were in school, and Adolfo nearly had the park to himself. It was fun watching him skate, and I wasn’t terribly worried about him since the park was right next to a hospital—a very smart location for a skateboard park.

While driving through Moorhead, we came across an art museum. Out front were two of the areas painted bison. One was painted like a punk with a Mohawk. It was named: Don’t judge a bison by it’s cover.

The second bison was similar to the painted bull we found in Bartlesville, Oklahoma. It was painted with several Van Gogh scenes, only this one had the face of Van Gogh and a bandage covering the missing ear. The artist named this one, Gogh-Bison-Go.


Also in Moorhead we found a Viking ship. Since Moorhead is nowhere near an ocean, it seemed this was an odd place for a ship. There are many people of Norwegian ancestry here, so there had to be a reasonable explanation, and we were determined to get to the bottom of this. Off we went to the Hjemkomst Cultural Center (no that's not the name of the volcano in Iceland). There we learned that the story was a bit more wild than I thought. Back in the 1970s, a very determined man in the area decided he wanted to build a Viking ship and sail it to Norway. In a nearby potato warehouse, he worked on this ship for a decade. Although he died before sailing his ship, in 1982 his children and several others set sail from Lake Superior. They sailed that ship through the great lakes and all the way to Norway! I guess dreams do come true even when they are a bit wacky.

The city, excited to have a Viking ship, decided it needed a traditional Norwegian church to accompany the ship. So, just outside the museum is a wooden church. The guide explained to us that it is popular for weddings even in November. The church has no heating, so the November brides have to wear long-johns under their dresses. Must make for an interesting wedding night.

Ticks on a Log--and on Us

While sitting on a log taking a break after a hike, Adolfo and I noticed some small creatures climbing up our pants. “That’s a tick!” Adolfo warned triggering us to jump up and begin flicking them off. We inspected each other’s clothing as we jumped into the truck and headed back to camp. We found another two ticks on the way back.

Luckily, we are now alone in the campground, so we jumped out of the truck and began stripping off our clothes. It must have been quite a scene for the birds and other creatures watching us. We inspected every corner of each other’s clothing and skin to be sure we were not being sucked by the nasty little ticks. Adolfo found several more ticks on his clothing, but I didn’t find any more. (No, I'm not providing a photo for this entry)

Now, every little tickle or itch we feel is a moment of paranoia. Adolfo is on the Web finding out all there is to know about ticks, lyme disease, and such. He has even learned that some ticks are so small that they cannot be seen. “Great. That’s just great!” I say sarcastically.

Back to Nature?

After several weeks of city hopping from St. Louis, Chicago, Milwaukee, to Minneapolis, we are glad to go back to nature.

Minnesota is covered with state parks—-all attached to one or more of the state’s 10,000 lakes. Not knowing where to start, I typed “best state parks” into Google. On top of the list for Minnesota was Lake Itasca. Before I had the chance to suggest the park to Adolfo, he found it as well. So, Lake Itasca sounded like a good bet. We hitched the trailer and took off for the park that claims fame for being the headwater of the Mississippi River.

State parks in Minnesota are just starting to open. There is no snow on the ground, but paths are still quite wet, lodges closed, and roads blocked off. Also, up this far north very few trees have started turning green. When we arrived at the Visitor Center I asked about the prettiest hikes. The volunteer ranger responded, “None of the trails are particularly nice at this time of year.” Should we have stayed south longer? I wondered.

We pulled into the only campground that is open at this time of year. Only three other visitors were in the park. We got the only pull-through space! You have no idea how important this is if you have never backed a 30ft trailer into a tight parking space. After settling into our site, we decided to check out the lake and find where the Mississippi River begins.


Lake Itasca is large and surrounded by large pine trees. The Mississippi River, however, is a tiny stream you would miss if it weren’t for the big signs informing you of the fact that you are standing at the head of the largest river in the country.

While there were few people around, we heard some strange noises. It sounded as if there was a good bit of construction going on. We heard the sound of hammers pounding in nails and a motor starting—perhaps a chainsaw. I didn’t pay much attention since this would be the perfect time of year for park maintenance before the crowds showed up in the summer. When walking by a closed visitor center, however, we read some of the signs and learned that the construction sounds were all natural. The hammering was, of course, loud woodpeckers. The chainsaw sound was another bird, the ruffed grouse. I can’t see how this call would be attractive to female grouse. But, I’m not a ruffed grouse.

In the water Adolfo spotted a large creature, not another duck. I took out my binoculars and saw a very comfortable looking beaver. It was moving quickly along the lake, but didn’t appear to be doing any work. Adolfo watched closely through his camera lens and suggested that its tail was doing all the work. He said it looked like the beaver had a propeller behind it.

With all the hammering, chainsawing, and propellers, it just seemed like nature was getting a bit too city-like.

Crashing a Tea Party

After a wonderful morning touring Minneapolis, Adolfo and I decided to check out St. Paul. Adolfo set his GPS for the State Capitol and off we went. After finding a parking place, we walked to the Cathedral and around a very ritzy neighborhood where such famous people as F. Scott Fitzgerald, Upton Sinclair, and Garrison Keillor have lived. After an hour or so we made our way down the hill toward the Capitol. There we found a gathering of people.



I wonder what’s going on, I thought just as Adolfo noticed the Don’t Tread on Me flags.

“It’s a tea party” Adolfo announced with glee, noting the date. For Adolfo this was a perfect photo opportunity. He nearly started running toward the crowd.



We spent about an hour there taking photos and dodging news cameras. I didn’t want to appear on FOX news or have them interview me. We were both a bit afraid of being found out as “liberals” among this group of conservative anti-government types.

Small World

I haven’t been in Milwaukee since I was in college, and I didn’t recognize it as the same city I visited then. Still, it is a wonderful city. Adolfo and I were especially impressed with the architecture of the Art Museum.

As we walked through the city I looked over and saw a familiar face. I had to blink hard and look again. Waiting for a bus was a friend from Austin. She was visiting family. What a small world.

Huge Antiques

While driving into Illinois, I noticed a large pink elephant up ahead on the side of the road. I immediately started digging through my bag for my camera. As usual, I was too slow. As we drove by, I noticed a UFO and a ice cream shaped building. Jeez, how could I miss that?

Luckily, Adolfo was equally interested, and although we were towing the trailer at the time, he took the next off-ramp and maneuvered through some tight side roads to return to the site.

Back at the site, we found an antiques store, but the best part was the surroundings.

Roots

For the last week I have been on a mission to learn more about my family--a mission Adolfo is glad to have finished. Still, I think he liked my family and had a good time.


First we went to Bartlesville, Oklahoma where we stayed with my first cousin once removed, Bernie Baldwin. He is a history buff and antiques collector. He collects classic cars and fixes them up. Like me, he has tons of projects, and not nearly enough time to do them all. Bernie took us in on very little notice and toured us around the city. We had a great time getting to know him better and seeing Bartlesville—-a small city with a lot of character. Just before we left, my second cousin and her children came over too. I hadn't seen them for years and it was fun to get to know them as well.

Photo: Bernie and Kim Baldwin


After leaving Bartlesville, we took off for Missouri. The town of Versailles has interested me for years since all roads on my father's genealogy seem to lead back to this town and the Bethel Mennonite Church. I sent an email to the one person I've communicated with in Versailles, but got no response since the email I had was his work address, and it was a weekend. Since we were there on Sunday, I decided just to show up at the church and see what I could find. It was Easter Sunday.

Adolfo and I didn't know what to expect of the church. Would this be a very traditional church where women wore bonnets? The nicest clothing I have is a pair of black pants; would this be acceptable? As we drove up the lane to the church, we passed a parking lot full of horse and buggies. Tell me this is not the church, I thought. It wasn't, the Bethel church was at the end of the road with contemporary cars sitting out front. To the side was the cemetery where so many of my ancestors are buried. We were late for Sunday school, and early for church, so Adolfo and I decided to walk through the cemetery. There we found plots for Ulrich and Caroline Aeschbacher, my great great grandparents. I found the plot for my grandpa's brother Ralph who died when he was just 6 years old. The tombstones in the cemetery all had names I recognized from my genealogical research--Aeschbachers, Baumgartners, Garbers, Gerbers, Lehmans, Hiltys, and Mosers. I could find ties to almost every name in the Aeschbacher family tree.

As Adolfo and I walked back toward the church, a woman asked if we needed some help. I introduced myself and explained that I was looking for family. She introduced herself as Brenda Hilty. I laughed. The first person I met was a relative. She married my great uncle's brother's son. I explained that Calvin Hilty was my great uncle. Brenda took me into the church where Ken Aeschbacher was teaching Sunday school. Before and after church, Brenda introduced me to many other relatives. I Uncle Calvin Hilty's only surviving sister, Dorothy.

After church, Brenda and Phil Hilty invited me and Adolfo to crash their Easter Dinner. I felt bad interrupting their family dinner, but I was excited to get to know them better. The food was wonderful, and it was such a great pleasure to learn more about their family. Again, these are wonderful people. I have awesome relatives.

On Monday I went downtown to see what information I could get from the Chamber of Commerce, Library, Historical Society, and the Kidwell-Garber Funeral Home. Brenda said she worked for the Versailles Bank, so I stopped by to say hello. While talking, she called the funeral home because Raymond Garber, an owner, is married to Suzanne Aeschbacher, my grandfather's cousin. Unfortunatly, Suzanne and Raymond were not in. Also the library, chamber of congress, and historical society were all closed. Bummer. After walking around downtown a bit, Adolfo and I took off.

Photo:Vincil Aeschbacher, Bruce Aeschbacher, Ken Aeschbacher

I called Bruce Aeschbacher, my original contact, and he contacted his father, Vincil, and uncle, Ken. They invited me to meet with them at Bruce's house. They then took me around the community and pointed out the homes of the family. They showed me the original home of Ulrich and their later home. We walked through the barn that Ulrich had built. They took me past other homes owned by Aeschbachers, Hiltys, Garbers...etc. I even saw the old school house where my grandpa and great grandpa had gone to school.

We decided to leave on Tuesday, but before we did, I took one last trip to downtown Versailles. This time I did meet Raymond Garber of the funeral home. He shared some files with me. Then I went to the library. The library had a large section for genealogy, and I had a half hour to explore it. I copied a few materials before I had to leave. Jeez, I could have spent several days there going through all those materials.

As we left town, I called Suzanne Aeschbacher Garber. She is 94 years old. We talked for a short time before my phone cut out. I hope I can call her again and talk longer in the next few days. It was hard to do on a cell phone, though.

This experience has been very moving for me. Perhaps you have to be into genealogy to understand, or perhaps you just have to have such a loving family.

Ulrich and Caroline Aeschbacher's Barn

Mennonite Diversity

While visiting my grandfather’s hometown in Versailles Missouri, I found a kind of diversity I’ve never thought much about.

The city has a large number of Mennonite churches. The first Mennonite church, Bethel Mennonite, is the church my grandfather grew up in. My cousins explained that this church is now the most progressive church. People drive cars to church and wear contemporary clothing.

While driving up to the Bethel Church on Sunday, Adolfo and I passed another Mennonite church. It was not clear that this was a church because it had no cross on top and was a very plain looking building. But the building wasn’t what caught our attention. Adolfo and I were blown away by the parking lot. It was jam packed with horses and buggies. On the sides were bicycles. A woman came out of the church to calm a baby. The woman was dressed in a black dress and white bonnet. She looked just like an Amish woman. Later my cousins explained that this church was one of the newer churches.

While on tour with my cousins, we passed two other Mennonite churches. One was a breakoff from the Bethel Church. It was called the Mt. Zion Church, but my cousins called it the Wenger church since most of the members had the last name Wenger. The two churches split over the issue of joining different districts of the denomination. Now, the Wenger Church is no longer in existence, and most of its members have gone back to the Bethel Church.

The other church we passed was a middle-of-the-road church. These folks dressed in simpler clothing—-women in bonnets--but drove cars. My cousin explained that these folks were a bit strange. I wonder what was so strange about them.

Coming from racially diverse communities, Mennonite diversity seems a bit odd. My cousins also mentioned that the Amish had moved into the area a while back, but that they moved out when the Pennsylvania Dutch Mennonite moved in. I guess there was too much competition for being simple.