All around the country, signs of change are everywhere.

For the better.

Six. More. Days.

Please Vote.

Did we happen to mention how we nearly got arrested in Denver? Twice.

We were pretty preoccupied after leaving Denver, and while René is still trying to put the incidents behind her, It’s about time I share our encounter with the cops and a certain authoritative state park ranger.

First off, we headed out after setting up our home for the week and quickly got pulled over by a Colorado state trooper. Needless to say René was totally freaking out. But luckily, this brush with the law was just that. René was doing nothing wrong, we were only guilty of being Californicators.

The officer walked up and immediately explained how he read the expiration tag on our California license plate wrong. He proceeded to run Rene’s license anyway. Thankfully she has no warrants, and we were on our way. OK, so no big deal. That was the next day back at Cherry Creek State Park.

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Back in the day when we lived the conventional life, I had some pretty conventional hobbies. Sewing, baking, scrapbooking, you name it.

Out of all the stuff we’ve put in storage, about the only things I miss are ny scrapbooking and stamp stuff, my gardening tools, and my cookware, like my bread machine.

I wish our RV was bigger so I could’ve brought some of these things along. Even if I could, where would I draw the line? You bring one stamp, you bring ‘em all!

To satisfy my urge creative urges, I’ve managed to find ways to do some of these things in our RV.

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Sixteen months into our road trip journey, we feel comfortable making some conclusions about our future.

1. We like our vagabondish lifestyle far too much to give it up anytime soon.
2. Continuing to pay rent on our storage unit is a waste of money.
3. We want a home base. Even a small cabin on some acreage will do. Somewhere we don’t have to pay rent. A spot of land that we can go back to in-between our seasonal workamper jobs.
4. Our goal is to close escrow on something, somewhere, before March, 2009.

With this in mind, our travels are taking on more of a sense of urgency these days.

We’ve been wandering around the Northwest, taking serious looks at places we’ve been curious about. Based on what I’ve heard about Missoula, Montana, it always sounded like a great fit for us, and consistently makes “Best Small Towns” lists. Recently, we visited to learn more for ourselves.

We stayed at this RV park just outside of town. A great park, with a great name; Jim’s parents were also “Jim and Mary.” The days were getting cold, so we only spent a few days there, looking around, talking to economic development people, and getting a feel for the area. We were so busy I hardly took any photos. Here’s what we learned.

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Speaking of Yellowstone … you’re not about to find any cell phone service in the campgrounds there. Not yet.

But if you’re lucky enough, all you need is a little sliver of sky for satellite internet reception.

We actually couldn’t lock on to 91 West from our wooded site in Madison campground until we backed up about two feet. Sometimes that’s all it takes!

Way back in 1995, I was planning a solo motorcycle trip from San Francisco to Yellowstone. But two months before leaving, Spoonie introduced me to this long haired geek named Jim. He was cool, but he didn’t have his own motorcycle, which was a problem. After falling head over heels in love with this guy, I really wanted him to go with me on the trip, but what was he going to do? Ride bitch on the back of my Virago?

Ultimately, I knew I just had to take that trip alone. I sensed that my life was about to change forever, and it could be my last chance to prove to myself that I could survive a solo trip on my own. Kinda like my friend Eva is doing now.

My bike and I made it to Yellowstone. But as beautiful as the scenery was, I was lonely and missed Jim terribly. I swore that one day we would go there together.

Thirteen years later, we made it.

If only we had arrived under better circumstances. As we saw the way the events around Jerry’s health were unfolding, it was clear that this visit wasn’t going to be the happy adventure I had always hoped it would be. On the road or not, life continued to happen around us, and we were forced to deal with the sad events at hand.

After we said goodbye to our boy, grief moved into our lives. We found some consolation in the fact that at least the surreal landscape of Yellowstone helped to ease the pain just a little.

The days were long and sad, but looking out into the wilds of Yellowstone was soothing. Glimpses of the awesome power of nature continued to reassure us of our small place in the world, and Jerry’s larger place in the universe, as a powerful life force that has gone on to greater things.

Oh I’m picking out a Thermos for you,
 
Not an ordinary Thermos for you,
 
But the extra best Thermos you can buy …

Now my Thermos doesn’t have vinyl and stripes, but it does have a cup built right in. And it is way better than any barometer. (To any “non” Steve Martin fans, I apologize.)

But one thing my travels have confirmed, is that I really do have the extra best Thermos you can buy. I’ve enjoyed hot coffee from my manly Stanley on many a brisk morning since we left, thanks to el Jefe.

Then while at the ranch, I noticed a lot of old-timers and hardcore outdoorsmen also own a Stanley Classic Bottle Thermos.

It really does keep beverages hot – not just warm – even after a couple hours of cold mountain fishing. What I like most, however, is that you don’t have to take the screw top off to pour. You do have to take off the cap, duh. That’s the cup! But by unscrewing just a bit, and lifting on the top, out comes your steamy beverage of choice. Pretty handy when your hands are already full with a rod, camera, leash or all of the above.

Just had to share this with you. Another one of those classic 20th century icons of design.

OK. Life must go on I suppose, as lonely as it is without Jerry …

But enough about my hay stories. By now, I’m sure you’re as tired of the hayin’ as I was when we finished. How ’bout some fishing?

This isn’t exactly timely anymore, but consider it my summer fishing report for Lake City, Colorado – from the Vickers Ranch fish ponds, to their upper ranch mountain lakes, to the Lake Fork of the Gunnison River.

A fun time was had. No gear was broken. And a few fish were caught. But not too many.

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The past few weeks since we left the ranch have been a whirlwind of miles and emotions. We have lots of tales to tell, but our hearts and minds have been occupied with saying goodbye to our baby, our cancer hero who taught us the meaning of the word courage.

For the last several weeks, we’ve been unconsciously walking a fine line between helping him stay comfortable, and trying to keep him going because of our own selfish, human need to avoid the inevitable.

Everyone said he would tell us when he was ready to say goodbye, and last Friday morning, his eyes said it all. But acknowledging his wishes, and moving forward with our duty to release him from the pain of cancer, was one of the hardest things we’ve ever had to do.

Maybe Jerry waited for us to land someplace spectacular before he was ready to move on. He might have sensed that our jangled nerves were getting calmed by the soothing landscape of Yellowstone. It could’ve been the spirits of ancient prairie animals whispering his name. But most likely, he heard St. Francis calling him home.

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Today under rainy skies in Yellowstone park, we grieve.

Our Jerry is gone.