With a guest appearence for the first time any where, (and unfortunately the last).

BY, none other than,

***Rocky, -Kamakazi- Racoon***

World re-nouned Daredevil/Stunt Racoon.

Soooo, the day sort of went like this:

On a tip from some wonderful folks we met in Quartzsite, and that would be courtesy of Jim and Ellen, we set our sights on a rather remote local known as Alamo Lake. A spot north east of Parker, or south east of Lake Havasu City, depending on how you look at it. Anyway, that is where we truely wanted to end our day. (Funny how things don't always work out the way we planned, isn't it? I mean, not HA HA funny, but funny, in an odd way, though I suppose it could be HA HA funny depending on how it is told! Aw crap. Where was I?)

Oh yah! Our friends told us, the evening before we departed, about a beautiful area they had visited a year prior that they were very enchanted with. The Bill Williams Bird Sanctuary, which strangely enough, follows the Bill Williams river, which oddly enough ends at Alamo Lake! Cool Beans! A quick check of the trusty (I thought at the time.) road atlas told us there would be a bonus at the end of the days treck! Located at Alamo Lake is a State Park, and a network of two small rivers and a dry wash to search for rocks of value. And since we like to watch and potograph birds and other forms of wild life, we just knew we were in for a real treat.

And we were off, with visions of the joys this beautiful state park would bring to our eyes. Visions of deer crossing through our camp. The sound of the stream lulling us to sleep at night. The call of the coyote echoing through the starlit sky. The warmth of the campfire and it's sweet smell. The hope of catching a glimpse of the Big Horns who were in the height of their mating season. The sun was beautiful, and so warm as it came through Vanna's windows, though the air temp was at a mere 60 degrees as we pulled out of the good ol' B-10 Campground. (The camp ground we stayed in at Quartzsite! Boy, you sure have a short memory!)

Anyway, we proceeded on our quest! We followed along the Colorado River, traveling northward through the Colorado Indian Reservation, toward Parker. My co-pilot was absolutely beside herself! (Roller Coasters are not her thing!)

Finally, we spotted a sign for the preserve, but we must have passed the road by! Solution? Turn around and backtrack! Oh boy! Back through some very sizeable hills, if not mountains! Co-pilot says, and I quote,

-Yay!-

Ooops, missed it again, I guess. Back we go! And a few times more! To the point we were getting dizzy. This was getting to be a bit rediculous. However, we did spot a building that was sitting on a bit of property in a gully, between some mountains, with a small white sign which stated the area was part of the Bill Williams Bird Sanctuary. My co-pilot thrilled at the prospect of not having to tour the mountain road once again, cheered my executive decision to stop and ask directions. (No, I do not have the typical male aversion to requesting directions. I had a map which showed clearly there was a road here somewhere, and damnit, I just knew we could find it on our own.)

After wandering aimlessly for about an hour, I spied a golf cart bouncing along in our direction. As they neared, I spotted the telltale material of a State Park uniform on the passenger. I approached him after he got off the cart and inquired about the road we had searched for during the last three hours of our day.

Well, to make a long story a bit shorter, the road had been washed away! The Colorado had thrown a temper tantrum and just flushed the old road away! Gone. Kaput. Non-existant! However, we were extremely relieved to find out that by going back to Quartzsite, and picking up another road, we could make our way to Alamo Lake the back way, through, you guessed it, more mountains! (Need I say more?)

So we were on our way to Lake Havasu City, and were guardidly excited about the fact there were two more State Parks and one County Park along our route. This leg of the journey may just be saved!

We found the first two parks far to crowded, and not really tent friendly, so we held our breath as we entered the third.

Nice place. They were less expensive than the state parks, and wow! The Colorado ran right next to it! But camper trailers dominated that side of the park, and there was no room for a tent to squeeze in. Oooh! Wait!

Over there! Now there's a campsite! Two giant Ponderosa Pines shielding the ground from the sun. A carpet of pine needles to pitch the tent over, and the sweet armoa of pine, the 60 degree air and the fresh scent of the Colorado river. Almost paradise.

But as beautiful a spot that it was, there were two other campsites, not ten feet away which were closed. Evidently there was a beehive with extremely tempramental bee's hanging around. Not necessarily a deal breaker, but something to think about if you are alergic to bee stings. Besides, a little voice in my head  (I know what you are thinking, and no I don't always listen to the voices, so relax!) told me that even though this sight is a possible, there may be better choices a bit farther down the road. We moved on.

To my delight, I was right. There was a bee free zone just within the city limits. The Travel Lodge.

Now, at this point, one may say:

-But Akeejaho, you were looking foward to nature and animals and sun and...-

Yah, I know. Please don't remind me.

Some thing good did come of all this however. Had we found that road, and had we made our way out to Lake Alamo, or had we pitched our tent in that sweet little camp spot, we would not have been able to watch TV that evening.

To which, I would expect my readers to question how Television could in anyway compare to actually experiencing nature? It dosen't, but to tell you the truth, I am sure glad we did check in, because a quick look at the weather on the nightly news for-warned us of two rather large storms which were already beating the crap out of California, just over the mountains we had been driving along all day!

As we burned rubber out of there the next morning, the storm was already hot on our heels. And, there was a nasty four lettered word associated with this particular set of storms. Cover the kids ears!

SNOW!!!!

For those of you who have been following along, you may recall this entire trip was a quest. A quest for the sun, and for some more temperate temperatures than those available in Minnesota. Now I don't really think that is asking all that much. Do you? I mean, good grief, can't a guy catch a break?

The worst thing is, to travel back to the Quartzsite area would be a waste of time because the storms were due to track right across that area. Of course!

A quick look at the map told us we could possibly out run the storm if we were to head east. Okay! That is what we would do. And, surprisingly, that is just what we did!

There was, yuck, snow on the ground as we got on our way. Not a lot. Just a half inch, but it is the thought that counts, and even a half inch was far too much to bare! We once again, were on our way. But Eastward. Toward Flagstaff on good old east bound 40. Our target was Holbrook. We had already found a hotel using some of the free literature we had picked up along the way, and we were determined to make it there.

As we drove, and were slapped around by wind gusts of 40 MPH, I watched the rear view mirror, keeping an eye on the storm front that seemed to follow us at a steady pace. The few stops we made only allowed the storm to close on us, but I found it impossible not to stop every once in a while to photograph the boiling mass of clouds which, according to the radio, were dumping snow as they crawled along the mountain ridges. In fact, after we passed Flagstaff, they received 8 1/2 inches of the white stuff! Lucky we missed it, huh?

To add insult to injury, a call home informed us of the thaw southwestern Minnesota had been blessed with, after we left. Very funny! Of course they had a thaw. The crappy weather decided to go on vacation, with us. I'm not a complainer though, so let me just interject the fact that even though the storms are all around us, I and my S.O. are still having a great time, even though our new tans are already fading fast!

Sitting in the hot tub in Holbrook, we made the decision to head into Colorado Springs once again. The initial plan was to head south from Holbrook to venture into the plethora of National and State parks that fill the central section of Arizona. However, the weather was in no way going to let us do so. Or, at least it wouldn't allow us to be able to camp because the temperatures all over the area were dropping down into the thirties and low four-ties overnight. Sorry, if I want to camp out in the cold, I can go home and set up a sleeping bag in the chest freezer in the basement.

The next day, we were astounded by the fact that we had made the decision to go to Colorado Springs on gut instinct, and even more that we had been dead on. About 45 minutes out of Colorado Springs, we stopped for just one more photo opportunity in a rest stop. The storm that had been following us for virtually the entire trip (Okay, it wasn't the very same storm following for the entire trip, but it may as well have been!) was surprisingly close, and actually threatening a couple of times to cut us off by riding a Canadian born front down out of the north and throwing some heavy flurries at us.

It was in that rest stop Vanna, poor thing, got the runs. (No doubt she had some bad gas! Must have been the water some where.) Yup. Right there, in the middle of the parking lot. She just let it go. (I know she was embarrassed, so don't tell her I mentioned it in the Hub.)

After the initial shock, I poured some water in her, checked the guages and we were off once again, though Vanna wasn't quite herself. Her water pump had pooped out. Let me tell you what! It got pretty stinkin cold in that van by the time we got to Colorado Springs. But we made it! (Well, to Colorado Springs, anyway.)

Oh, I'm getting to that. Don't rush me!

I have to say, I was mesmerized by Colorado Springs the first time through, and the second visit was no different. The views are simply spectacular, the people are warm and friendly, and the city is friendly and progressive. There is an attitude in Colorado Springs that is easily adopted by any visitor. A relaxed and light hearted attitude that makes it a very nice place to spend time in, despite the temperature, which is sort of temperate as long as we aren't there! (So if you are going to visit, find out if we are there. If we aren't, you will have great weather, if we are, go somewhere else.)

We spent four days there with some folks who are very close to our hearts. We enjoyed their company and the beautiful views and crisp fresh air all the while we were there. Oh, and Vanna, although needing a trip to the emergency room when we arrived, I am happy to report, recovered well during this break. But, we are off once again!

Yup! You will never guess where! Or, maybe you already have.

If your guess is that we were turning southwesterly once again to return to the warmth promised by perhaps, southern California, (or perhaps crossing the border and heading to a secluded beach somewhere along the Mexican Coast to suck Margarita's down by the bucket fulls while being slavered with suntan lotion) then, surprisingly enough, you would be wrong.

I know!

It surprised me as well! Well, it started as we watched the weather on the fourth night in Colorado Springs. (Would it surprise any reader that the report was not a good one?) Let it suffice to say there was some stuff coming, and it was looking rather unfavorable to stay put any longer. So, in fair warning to those poor souls who live through the mid-west winters already, hold on to your hats, we are coming home!

And it was so. We began in the bright and shiney morning. I say bright and shiny because the sun was glistening (And glaring) off the newly fallen snow which amounted to a couple inches. What a shock. But we were off none the less.

We were heading north, toward Wyoming. The plan was to pick up a major interstate to get home as quickly, (and somewhat scenically) as possible, ahead of the bad weather. Ironically, that plan was flushed in a rest stop (as giant snow flakes poured from the heavens) and a new route was plotted by my most excellent co-pilot. (Take a bow honey! I couldn't have done it without you![but next year I am getting the passenger door handle re-inforced])

We made to Lusk, Wyoming and turned right along a small highway into Nebraska. A choice made on the gut instinct that although the storm had moved in from the north, we could out run it once again by heading east. It worked. This was route 20, and marked as a scenic highway, which it was indeed. (Forgive the lack of pictures, but real yucky-poo stuff was coming, and we just could not afford a stop! But trust me and take the drive if you ever have the opportunity)

Although, I must warn you of the little birds that live in the area. They are most un-nerving. I am unsure if it is a phenomena which takes place only in the winter, or only when I am driving, or if it is a regular pass time. See, these little bitty birds, which appear to be some sort of swallow, like to land all over the road, in a rather size-able number. They will sit there, egging you on, and ignoring you until you are say an inch and a half away from them. At this point, they all just spring into flight in an infinite number of directions, with the bravest flying straight ahead, in the direction you are driving until, at the last minute, altering their direction into the safety of the open sky. I suppose the object of the game is to out run the big noisy machine, but I fail to see the thrill. Especially as it is repeated every 100 feet of so.

Other than the birds, the rest of the trip was pretty much a safe and pleasurable (though cut shorter than we had planned) journey from Nebraska into South Dakota. Unfortunately, darkness had overtaken us and the beauty of the countryside was passing by, unseen. And there were other things out there we couldn't see either.

***INTRODUCING***

You guessed it!

Rocky -Kamikaze- Raccoon

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and children of all ages, may I draw your eyes to the left side of the rode. Just there, hiding behind the giant rock:

Who will, before your very eyes!

Run for all he is worth!

Dive under the 75 MPH van!

And emerge on the other side of the road!

He's off ladies and gentlemen. Look at the blinding speed! The cunning strategy, the fancy foot work!

And there he goes boys and girls, right there! And under the van he goes! Oh!

Ick! OOOh! Ouch! (Oh man, that's gonna leave a mark!)

Um, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and children of all ages. Lest Rockie's life was to be in vain, we should all learn this valuable lesson.

No matter how shiney the rock is on the other side of the street, look before you leap cause you never know when life will come along at 75 MPH and knock you for a loop.

So, I sit here at my desk, putting the final touches on this thing, adding pictures, editing (Yes I actually do edit, from time to time) and doing all that fancy writing type stuff, and lamenting on the trip we just took. A journey which took us over 4,400 miles in three weeks, through some of the most beautiful country the United States has to offer. I read the words I wrote, and am a bit saddened that I look disfavorably on the weather which PLAGUED us for the trip, because it was not a sad trip at all.

We enjoyed every moment of the time we spent on the road. We enjoyed all those we met and shared a word or meal with. And we met all different types of people. The have and the have nots. Those who were on hard times and those who were not.

We saw things some may never see, and learned things we would not have had we not set out on our journey. We witnessed with our eyes the beauty that nature can carve from rock and dirt, and the wonder of life as we saw things growing in conditions so harsh that man is challenged living under the same rules. And we realized we were thankful for the experience, for each other, and for those waiting for us at home.

Thanks for riding along!

Untill next time.

Happy BiPolaring!