On the road with Siyona Yona and Dawn

Posted on July 14, 2011 by Dawn Quyle Landau

Well, THIS was the longest day yet!  As agreed, I picked up my road buddy, Russ (AKA: Siyona Yona- Hello Bear, in Cherokee) as promised at 9:30 AM, and just got in at 9:30 PM.  I stopped at the bakery here in town and bought two fabulous muffins and a decaf latte, and we sat by a wild river and started our day.

True to his Native name, we saw more bears today than I could have dreamed!  Each time, he’d call out a few words in Cherokee, greetings he told me.  Our final sighting, a black bear was about 100′ from me and I could watch it graze, knowing that there were much slower and dumber people between me and that bear!  Russ, however, said he was a tad worried that he might have to drive my car back for me. In all, we spotted 6 bears, including 2 grizzly; as well as 1 wolf;  loads of bison; deer (several types); a fox; pronghorn; bighorn; 2 rainbows; 1 storm; Old Faithful again, and loads of scenery that caused us to stop and sit a spell.

This was an challenging re-introduction to the world again. For nearly 2 weeks, I have really spent almost all of my time entirely alone. I’ve talked with a few people at stops or trails, but have also had days where I spoke to no one for all or most of a day. I haven’t eaten a single meal with anyone for two weeks, until today. For those of you who know me and think I can talk… I said very little today, and there was barely a silent moment. This man can TALK.  And he has stories to tell that are pretty amazing!  His tour in Korea, his “ladies”, his mistakes in life, etc… in lots of detail. It was a sensory over load that I hadn’t anticipated. It is something to digest and think about, as I rejoin my husband tomorrow and return home next week.

A wise man, he had a lot to share with me about interacting in the world, things that matter, things that don’t, and how to manage some of what sent me on this trip in the first place. Great perspectives, wonderful humor and not a person the man doesn’t stop to chat with. If I turned around for a moment, he was off making friends with every tourist in his path. Saying hello in more languages than I could possibly say and asking for a hug as well!  A total gentleman, he pulled out every chair, opened each door and then explained that he would never want me to not feel as special as I am! Nice.  At the Roosevelt Lodge, he announced to all within earshot that I was “his angel, who had come to relieve him from his driving for a day; was an exceptional tour guide;” and then added:  “I want witnesses, she has one of the cutest butts I’ve seen in a long time!”  EEK!  Red faced and flustered, I was out the door in a second! At the car, I told him that was pretty embarrassing. He replied “Lovey, I may be old, but I’m still a man. That’s one cute butt!”  Not what I expected from the sage guru.  We finished our touring at Old Faithful, and headed back. 

Spending the entire day together, driving about 300+ miles, was an interesting challenge for me, as I have realized just how much solitude I actually appreciate. To have someone talking all day and sharing so much, has left me exhausted beyond words and really wondering how I will re-enter life at home.  I feel so changed and know I could keep driving for a while longer, lingering in this golden space.  Some of what he shared I will need a while to process: as knowing what is right, or which path would be happier and healthier, isn’t necessarily the easiest path to take.

Driving down the road with a stranger, sharing stories and personal journeys is a rare thing. The last time I really did something like this was hitch hiking in Australia, when I was 20. I’m a different person now and the challenges, rewards and journey are all different. I have come home tonight drained and energized all at once. I’m so grateful for the 4 sad ice cubes in the ice box at my cabin. That cocktail will be mighty good tonight, after a hot shower and crackers and cheese for dinner!  My final 24 hours alone…

The big viewing of the day, may remain a mystery. We were in Lamar Valley, my favorite place still, when we saw a long line of people far off in the country. We pulled out the binoculars and there in my scope, I believe, was my son! It was definitely a group of kids, backpacking with 2-3 guides. One looked an awful lot like Little Man/AJ and for a moment I was so excited to think that he was that close and seeing the very same vista, that my heart raced. Hard to know for sure if it was in fact his group, but I’m hoping to find an update posted from the group and find out. Ran in to one of my favorite rangers (know several by name now and it’s fun to have a ranger call my name out, when viewing animals), and he wasn’t sure if it was Little Man’s group, but asked me if I wanted to get a message to the group, or have him check the log for me.  Not a chance!   It was a magical encounter and I will go to bed tonight, believing I saw my boy, in beautiful place and looking happy.  Why break the spell?

Photos from the day:

Large bull bison, just off the edge of the road

and spectacular storm, coming in over the hills.  If you look closely, you can see the rainbow bursting

from the peak in the middle. Spectacular day of wildlife and wild places, with one wild and crazy old       man.


Posted in Beautiful places, Humor, road trip, summer vacation, travel | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments

A couple of wrong turns can make all the difference.

Posted on July 14, 2011 by Dawn Quyle Landau

All day certain phrases and emotions were swirling around in my head, and one of them was “one wrong turn.”

I set out this morning from my dumpy little hotel in Cody, with the intention of driving to Cooke City, via the Beartooth Hwy. Passing thru’ Cody, which is essentially one road, and a sudden turn out of town, I made a wrong turn. There in front of me was this cool looking coffee shop: The Beta Coffee house.  I decided that an iced (decaf) coffee would be a great way to start, and I might as well make use of my wrong turn. Amazing little gem of a place, so I got my lap top and decided I’d write for an hour or so, listen to the good music playing and absorb some of the culture/vibe I’ve missed. Before you know it, the sky totally opens up and it begins to just POUR.  The gal behind the counter said: “good thing you stopped in, that road would not be fun or safe in this!”  So I stayed for 3 hours and just wrote, wrote, wrote. The rain came and went, a couple of times and the place was so comfy, I just hunkered down and took advantage of the respite.

I was told that I’d have no phone service for the next 2 days, so I called home to check in. EM called me and we got to catch up a bit, as I sat on the side of the road in the blazing heat. I would have driven, but the call was dropped any time I rounded a hill. I got to speak to EL as well, so felt liked I’d touched base with 2 out of 3 of my babes.  Mostly a good thing, but I’m still grateful for my 48 hrs more of solitude. It was good to hear how they’re doing and what’s been happening in my absence.

When I got on the road, I had no idea how long it would really take to get to Cooke City, but I had read that Charles Kuralt (a God among men, I believe) called it one of the most scenic roads in America… so I expected some pretty views. Today was THE most harrowing, spectacular, peculiar, and spiritual day of this entire trip… and will likely hold a prominent spot on the memories of a life time list!  First was a long straight road that passed along spectacular vistas of desert and plateaus on one side, rising mountains on the other. The photo at the front of this entry, was taken along this stretch. I stopped over and over to snap photos and began to realize it might take a while to get there!

At about 5:15, I took another wrong turn and found myself in the small town of Red Lodge, MT.  What a gem of  a place it is!  I probably could have spent a few hours just exploring, but I figured I might as well grab dinner before heading up in to the pass, and then get on my way.  It would be one of the best decisions possible! I dropped in to the Pollard Hotel, because they had a braised lamb sandwich that sounded too good to pass on. However, once I’d ordered my ice tea, I found out that it was dinner menu only and there were only “tapas.”  I ended up with a roasted beet salad with stilton cheese and tuna tataki with edamame. Got my veggies at least. A wonderful guitarist was playing and every song he performed was a favorite: Simon and Garfunkle, Jim Croce,  Beatles (Here Comes the Sun)… really talented musician. It was a slice of unanticipated heaven, in food and music, and I left feeling relaxed and excited for my ride.

My navigation kept telling me to take a left out of town, but I was sure the Beartooth went right. About 10 miles out, I had to turn the thing off, so the warning wouldn’t continue to worry me. Well, Charles K may have been right about the beauty, but there was not enough mention of the drama!  I was totally unprepared for the road ahead; I have NEVER driven a road like this in my life!  Hairpin does not begin to cover the turns that were every 500 ft or so. U-turns was more like it, each switch back taking me 45 degrees one way and then back the other, with sheer drops on one side, and countless “Danger, rock slide zone” signs on the other… hello? Is there something you’re suppose to do about that?!  I have never seen slide zones like this. Huge, heavy duty metal fences strung from one gap to another, with hundreds to a thousand  feet of boulders, in channels leading from the road, straight up.

It was disorienting to try and look at the road ahead, because often the next section of road was directly above me or across from a chasm from me!  A couple of times, just trying to watch ahead, I felt vertigo and had to just look at the road directly in front of me. Pull outs are great, except when there’s no guard rail and they abut the edge of a several thousand foot drop! This was a road to the clouds and a drop to no where.

At the top of this 11,000 ft peak, I felt like I was driving on the top of the world!  Rolling meadows, with snow fields everywhere. There were places where the road was like a tunnel, with 12′ drifts on either side!  Other spots, I could see forever.  The setting sun made the shadows especially brilliant and magical.  So, I pull over at this spot where there’s a gorgeous lake, melting fields, mts and trees reflected in the water. There was an older gentleman pulled over a ways behind me,  taking a photo too.  I just ignored him at first and took my photos. I had noticed his big truck, with Florida plates, coming up.  As we both headed back to our cars, we looked at each other at the same moment, and to be polite I waved hello and yelled out: “That’s some road!”  He couldn’t hear me, so walked a little closer.  He had on a funny cap with all kinds of pins on it; sun glasses; a peace necklace, as well as a small cross, and some kind of claw; had a scraggly beard and a small pony tail, and jingled when he walked. He explained that they were his “bear bells, and he wears them everywhere here, as you never know when you’ll need them.”  I could not have met a more colorful character, on the top of the world, if I tried!  

He introduced himself as Russ, but then added that his Cherokee name is Siyon Yona: Hello Bear. He shared that he’d hiked the entire Appalachian Trail, the Pyrannese and had buried three people he loves in the past 13 mths. We ended up talking for about a half hour up there, and he confided that he had no where to stay tonight and wasn’t sure where we were headed. He was actually a very sharp guy, but had a few memory issues. So, he followed me down the mountain (the western descent much more manageable than the trip up) and we stopped in Cooke city to see if we could find him a place to sleep. “I’m pretty sure we found each other for a reason” he said, as we headed to our cars. “I’d like to buy you a martini at the bottom.”  Right about then, a drink was sounding might good!

There was no room in town, so they sent my new friend on to the next town, 3 miles down the road. He promised me he’d be back though, and asked me to meet him at the Miner Bar and Grill in about 30 minutes. Time’s a bit different when you’re in your late 70’s, so I was just thinking he’d stood me up, as he was 30 minutes late  (I waited outside, as there were a few too many guys, who’d had a few too many inside), when his truck came back through town.

We spent 2 hours talking in Miner’s, him doing the majority of the talking. He told me all about his “lady” who had died of pancreatic cancer a year ago, and his sister… his first great-grandchild, who he’d just met for the first time, in Montana, and the “love of his life now.”  He told me all about his adventures on the Appalachian trail, his tour of duty in Korea, his failings in life and his joys.

Then, out of the blue (I’d only told him I had 3 kids, and was on a road trip), he took my hands, across the table and said:  “I’m on this journey to finish my grieving. You’re on a journey to figure out what you want. I believe the Lord brought us to the same place on that mountain, to help us both. Just these few hours, you’ve brought me so much joy, and I am sharing my losses with you. And I can tell you some of the things that you’re trying to figure out.”  Some of what he said to me was freaky perceptive (at one point, he suddenly said: “You’re Jewish, aren’t you?”  What!), and a lot of it was very moving.  But one of the most powerful things he said was: “you are very loved; those kids love you. But you have big feelings and a lot in there.  As an artist, you need to find a way to express y0urself and take care of yourself… write, write it all down.”  I swear, that is what he said.   I had not told him a thing about writing or art.

He asked me if I’d travel in the park with him tomorrow (back to Yellowstone), as he wanted to see Old Faithful for the first time, “with a friend.”  I’ve agreed, but told him that these are my last 48 hrs on my own, and I can only spend part of the day with him. “See love, that’s taking care of yourself!” he said, with a wink.  The universe is a very magical place sometimes. I walked the half mile back to cabin in the moonlit night. The sky was gorgeous, and the air smelled so sweet. It was the first time this whole trip, I wasn’t worrying about bears… despite the signs all over town that say: Grizzly country, use caution.  Just as I arrived back, Russ came by in his truck and yelled, “Sweet dreams dear.”

Much of today was like a Twilight  Zone episode:  crazy and scary and weird and wonderful all in one. If you look up Twilight, the dictionary says:

“The soft glowing light from the sky when the sun is below the horizon, caused by the refraction and scattering of the sun’s rays from the atmosphere.• the period of the evening during which this takes place, between daylight and darkness.”

Today, a few wrong turns brought twilight and magic all day.

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I ate his balls for dinner… and other thoughts from a single table.

Posted on July 13, 2011 by Dawn Quyle Landau

I have never minded dining alone. Strangely it is one of the things that most people ask about this trip, wondering how it is to eat alone each meal or how I manage it.  At home, I eat lunch out a lot. It’s part of the social fabric that I most look forward to with friends. However, I am also just as likely to bring a good book and eat alone.

Doing it on the road is definitely a little bit different. At home, I know the places I’m going to and I know a lot of the people who own or work at those places. I don’t feel strange sitting with my book and ignoring people, or chatting with my favorite sushi chef, Steve. Some days, it suits me best.

On the road, every single dinner has been a crap shoot. Thanks to 2 boxes of Ritz crackers and a jar of Adams all natural peanut butter, I’ve eaten breakfast every day in my room or the woods. Strangely, I haven’t gotten tired of this yet. I’m not a big breakfast person anyway, so I don’t really miss it. Lunch has been out of my cooler every day. I brought some cheeses and salami and have managed to make do with that and nori sheet snacks every day. Haven’t bought a single lunch on the road yet either. Most days, I’ve stopped at a pretty pull out, rifled thru’ what’s left of my laundry basket full of snacks and made lunch a brief rest and quick dine thing. The days I’ve been writing, I try to do that before settling in, to avoid attracting any more bugs than necessary. This trip has definitely cost me more mosquito bites than I usually get in 3 summers at home!  We don’t really have them near the water at home, one more reason I love living there!

Dinner is a whole different story. Each night I’ve pulled out my trusty Moon handbook to Yellowstone & Grand Teton guide book and looked for dining ideas. Some of my friends have traveled this area and I’ve gone to places they recommend as well.  I’ve also found Rangers and other travelers to be helpful, but that’s often a crap shoot too, as you really don’t know what other people like.  Along the same lines, I’ve never really understood asking a waitress what her favorite thing is where I’m dining, as she may love liver; I hate it. It works with people you know because you can gauge it by the other things you know about them. You wouldn’t ask your least adventurous friend where to find unusual dining experiences. So, every night, I’ve walked in to places pretty much not knowing just how it will go. Only one night, in W. Yellowstone did I miss the bus all together and end up at the only place open: Dairy Queen. My first fast food dining experiences in nearly 9 yrs and admittedly, at that point, it tasted great!

For the most part, I’ve eaten a hell of a lot of meat this trip. A home, I cook chicken, fish and pork a lot … with red meat about once a week, if that. I eat sushi much more than I should, and have some elevated mercury levels to show for it. (That by the way may explain why I felt so crazy in the first place, if Jeremy Piven is any example!) I could live on chicken and fish, and need some kind of salad or veggies with every dinner. That has not been the case these past 2 wks either. Some days, those nori snacks are my only source of greens. Admittedly, the meats been good. One ranger told me I “just had to have the prime rib at the Lake Lodge over at Yellowstone lake.” It was so good (and reasonable) that I went back twice!  The old dining room also had perfect window seats where I could sit quietly with my book (I ended up reading The Space Between Us, by Thrity Umrigar… set in India and very good) and not be bothered with social niceties.

Except for the Lake Lodge, pretty much every other place has questioned why I’m on my own. The waiter, hostess or other diners just seem to hone in on the fact that I have a book and I’m not sitting with anyone else.  There is also the other single males, who, depending on age and whatever, assume I might prefer to eat with someone… no matter who.  Most staff are very nice and just curious as to why I’d be doing this… hell, lots of friends and my family are asking the same thing! I had a lovely young girl from Wyoming last night who chatted with me most of my meal, about how much she wants to travel and see other places. She “couldn’t imagine being all alone” and wondered if I’m scared something might happen. Not really. May be stupid on my part, but I feel pretty confident handling most things that come up.

Filling my tank yesterday was my biggest challenge so far. The station had an antiquated diesel nozzle that wouldn’t fit my car and I NEEDED gas. I am afraid of running out of it, in the middle of nowhere! (and bears, I remain afraid of bears) The car came with a special adapter for such situations, but I hadn’t used it yet. Surrounded by big Chevy and Ford Trucks, and only men pumping the gas, I wasn’t going to let this throw me.  I set it up like a pro and forged on. However, the small warning that the stop valve doesn’t work with this adapter was for real and before I could guess how close to full I was, gasoline came pouring out the spout, all over my car and the ground. I was grateful that the 2 guys closest figured it was the pump’s fault and offered to help. No thank you, I said. I drove away smelling like a mechanic and my car wreaks! Not expecting to find a car wash any time soon, so hopefully it’s a bear deterrent.

Two nights ago, when every place in Cody seemed to have an hour+ wait (who knew!), I settled on what looked like a popular Mexican restaurant. It looked full and the menu seemed good. I was seated in a fairly lousy location near the kitchen and directly across from a single gentleman. We were the only single diners in the place, our own lonely hearts club. Mr. single diner spent the entire meal smiling over and trying to make eye contact. I read two long chapters and tried to not look up. It was the worst Mexican food I’ve had in a long time and I felt sick all day yesterday. I ended up eating only bits of it, and was too disheartened by the whole thing to go to the rodeo as I’d planned. I came back on the early side, to what has also been my least favorite room (each time I walk in the weird, sweet smell assaults me and the yellowing bedding is a total bummer).  It was not my best night, and had I not visited the museum yesterday (thank you, thank you E!!), I would have left Cody convinced it was a place to skip all together.

Last night, when I first arrived at The Proud Cut Saloon (thanks R!), looking to find Clay and say hi for a friend, they first tried to seat me at the bar. This happens a lot when you’re alone, out here. A single gentleman, seeing me weighing the decision, raised his glass and winked. “Are you sure you don’t have a table?” I asked. They sat me on the back porch, which was suppose to be a less desirable locations (“if you don’t mind” she said), but proved to be outside and pretty nice.  It was a quiet table, with 3 animated waiters working the section (2 of whom hung out at my table most of my meal)and the chatty hostess, who only left to seat others. I read a little of an outdated People magazine, as they had lots of questions.

I decided to finally try Rocky Mountain Oysters.  For those of you haven’t come across this Western delight, they are (and there is no way to say it nicely) bull testicles.  I know, a far cry from sushi and don’t even start on all the ethical issues! No doubt, men probably find it even more distasteful. They are usually fried and the thin cut sections look pretty much like you know they should.  I’m sure it’s all the beef in general that I’ve consumed that dulled my thresh hold, or maybe it was the way these folks look at me, or question my single dining status, but I was not going to be challenged by some balls. They were actually pretty good and tasted a surprisingly lot like fried clams, necks only. From a non-adventurous dining perspective, both would probably not be on the list… another reason you need to know who you’re asking.

The hostess was almost as amazed that I was eating the RMOs as the fact that I was traveling alone. She kept coming over cautiously to ask what I thought. She was so meek around them, that I couldn’t help but be surprised that she had worked in a restaurant that served them for so long. I told her that if she really wants to get out and see the world, maybe she needs to take a few risks at home. Eating something that seems challenging in one step away from driving off, in my book. She had “never looked at it that way” and agreed with the young waiter that maybe they would try them later, together (strength in numbers?) and plan a road trip East. She’s always wanted to see Boston (my home town) and the fact that I’d done all of the above made me a rock star in her book.  She and her buddy bought me a drink and pumped me for travel stories. I didn’t tell them about leaving the country all together as East of Kentucky seemed to make for enough excitement.

After dinner, I stopped at my depressing little room to wash my gas smelling hands one more time and get an extra sweater for the rodeo. Dark clouds had moved in and the temperature had dropped a lot. I was wiped out from 8 hrs at the Buffalo Bill Historical Center (an amazing place, you could easily spend 2 days at!) and wanted to freshen up and get some warmer clothes. I arrived at the rodeo just before the pledge and prayers (less than Jackson, but boy they love Jesus in these parts!). Again, “ONE ticket only? Are you meetin’ some friends Miss?” (I liked the Miss, for a change).  Nope, on my own. “Well… have fun.”  Is this really THAT unusual people??  Entering the rodeo stands, there was a young cowboy– chaps, rope, hat and all, standing there with this big ass, mean looking bull. “Would you like to have your picture taken on the bull Mam?” he asked. “Nope,” I answered. “I ate his balls for dinner.”

Posted in Honest observations on many things, Humor, road trip, travel, Women's issues, Yee haw | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

Searching for the groove.

Posted on July 12, 2011 by Dawn Quyle Landau

This past two weeks has really been an adventure… and a whole bunch of challenges. I took off to get some space from situations that were making me crazy, but you can’t really just walk away from anything. I’m sure there are lots of examples of how that statement is wrong, but I think most things that challenge us, just follow us until we figure them out and let them go. Like the geyser metaphor, a few entries back, I really do need to challenge myself and step away from the ring from time to time to rediscover myself and feel empowered again, or I implode. It’s just how I’m wired, and I’m finally learning to accept that.  Not everyone needs that, and it’s just one more thing that I judge myself (harshly) about. I am my own worst enemy, no doubt about it… but somehow, when I get away from home, I rediscover the things I do like about myself, and that feels good.

When I was 21, I ran off to Australia because I was in love. No one I knew had ever gone there, and while it is a popular travel destination now, 27 year ago, it was not.  It was my first big adventure and a huge step, leaving my family and friends behind and leaving for 3 months. I was totally on my own financially (starting my Jr. year of high school) and spending that much money, for love, was a huge risk.  I worked for about a year to save the money and frankly, wasn’t sure I’d be coming back.  It was exciting and scary all at the same time.  In the end however, I messed the whole thing up because I wasn’t ready for that big of a leap.  I hurt the person I loved badly and behaved stupidly. At the time, I felt pretty horrible for everything that happened, but now I realize how young I really was and how easy it  might have been for others to have predicted that outcome. I however, was too young to see that then, and it’s been a long processing of that whole thing. The kernel of who I am now was there: leaping in to the unknown and craving the experience, the adventure… but I didn’t have the maturity to manage the experience or emotions of it all.

Since then, there have been a few of these Walk Abouts. I took off solo for the UK and Denmark for 9 wks when EL and EM were 2 and 4. THAT was a challenge! I had friends to stay with, but had none of the other things that were my safety nets at the time and was alone with two babies.  I had just come out of a very serious medical crisis, ICU for weeks and nearly died. It would not be an overstatement to say that I’d had a near death experience. Prior to that, I’d spent 6 years feeling myself disappear in my husband’s Residency and the super bizarre lifestyle that required of us. We lived in a fishbowl; I was a single parent most of the time and married to a zombie the rest. I had had NO idea about  what I was getting in to when I married in to it, naive doesn’t begin to cover it, and it was an easy place to lose your way. When I came out of the hospital (weighing 89 lbs and needing physical therapy to gain strength, etc again), I knew more than anything that I needed to get the hell out of dodge and figure out where Dawn went.

Those 9 weeks were thrilling:  a day trip in a fisherman’s skip out to see the men catching what would be some of the last wild Atlantic Salmon, EL and EM waving and cheering; a bus trip in Denmark to a Viking’s festival, w/2 little people who were shocked to see the nude beach and thrilled to see the viking ships; isolation from my friends at home and family, not to mention my husband; and so many other examples… and I came home electrified. I felt strong and independent again. I had my wits about me and I was ready to finish our final year in the bowl and move on.

It would be a very long time until the next recharge.  The, in 2005, I got the opportunity to travel to India w/my daughter, her sophomore year.  It was organized and there were loads of safety nets, but it changed my life and everything about that 2 weeks was amazing. The intense emotions that I experienced, being in such a place and having the experiences I did, was incredible.  What I really learned there, was that I had the ability to connect with people and that could sometimes make for magic. (Not always true at home, but abroad, it seems to work!)

Africa, in 2007 was definitely a personal challenge. I went totally alone, and aside from a 24 hr period when I met up w/my daughter, then a senior in h.s. and spending her first semester of sr year in Africa (talk about adventure!!), I was totally on my own. I hadn’t done anything like that since Australia, ’82.  It challenged me on levels I had never imagined… being a minority for the first time in my life, and having to look at what that brought up for me; being in a culture and place that was entirely different from my own; being on safari and facing my anxieties, alone (in my tent at night, the sounds were so unnerving!). Again, I came home with a renewed sense of my own strengths and identity.

Then, this past year, April 2010, my 18 yo son, EM and I took off for 2 wks in India: total free fall. We booked our air fare and first night’s hotel, and then did the rest with back packs and prayers. We did not use credit cards to buy our way out of tight spots, nor did we always eat well.  BUT, it was truly one of the greatest 2 wks of my life!  Being with my son was so special,  having to work thru’ issues together, as a team; the heat (115 for a while) and my age, with a back pack (I never asked EM to carry my stuff, I’m proud to say!); and then, just the total and utter culture and sensory experience that makes India my favorite place.  There were moments when we didn’t get along, or things were not going well, that I felt so vulnerable or freaked out.  But I pushed thru’ and we managed.  There were moments that I felt like Queen of the world (telling a hotel that I worked for Lonely Planet, so they opened their closed pool and spa for EM and I: that swim, in that simple pool is one of the greatest memories of my life!). I kicked ass and EM and I kicked it together as well.

Being on the road for the past two weeks, figuring out where I’ll stay; trying to keep a budget and not buy my way in to comfort; sitting alone in the beauty of Yellowstone with my writing; meeting cool people and initiating contact, or spending long days in solitude; have all challenged me to look inside again and reaffirm my groove. That place where I feel good about myself and feel energized. It is sacred. I NEED it and I am blessed to be able to go out and find it… not everyone has that opportunity and I know how lucky I am. It’s so good to have the critical voice in my head silenced for a while. Or, to see that critic be a little kinder, have a little more humor when things go awry. Void of the challenges that exist in raising intelligent, free thinking kids and a strong willed husband, I can trust my own instincts again and not feel the need to defend my choices, my needs or desires. I am free falling and in the groove and it feels sublime.

Posted in Honest observations on many things, road trip, travel, Women's issues | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Pathos, yearning and joy… in The Zone.

Posted on July 11, 2011 by Dawn Quyle Landau

Calling this trip a mid-life crisis seems very optimistic to me. A friend asked if that’s what this was, and I didn’t really know how to answer. At 48, that would mean that I’m guaranteed 96 years, and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that.  On a good day, filled with optimism and sugar, I would live to 100… But, the sugar is that I’d be sharp in mind, relatively healthy in body and have lots of friends and family to fill my time with. I sure as hell wont be jumping in my car and taking off to the Wild West!  The chances of things turning out that favorably are, well, not likely. If you live to 100, you are sure to see a lot of people you love pass on.  To be honest, I’ve already had more than my share of losses and making it to 100 and getting through that many more, is not exactly a tempting thing. Also, given my health, well, I might keep some spark, but it seems that some of this would bring me down a few notches.

Frankly, there have been  moments on this trip when 48 feels a little old. Don’t get me wrong:  I have a lot of adventure left in me, but some of the bumps get me down more than they did in my twenties. Arriving to a hotel that has a “funny” smell and isn’t very cheery: downer.  I am now longing for my wonderful little cabin in W. Yellowstone, where Logan (cute front desk guy) fixed things in my room for me, left fresh baked cookies and little notes and everyone was friendly.  Ok, there’s the pathos.

Said goodbye to Big Frank, Mike and the gang today, and they roared off in one direction, while I headed out to Cody, WY. The ride was spectacular. Stopped to see the wolves in Hayden Valley, but didn’t get a good sighting today, too hot. But the colors in Yellowstone and the changing landscape is just plane old hypnotizing. The drive down thru’ the Shashone National Forest, Watiti Valley, Bearclaw highway were spectacular. As you come down out of the East entrance, off the mountains, the canyons begin to rise up on either side and you can practically hear ancient voices. I stopped a few times to just listen to the wind thru’ the canyon, and it was haunting. The stone becomes so different and areas rise up like spires to create cathedrals in nature. It is just beautiful!

The Big Bear hotel, where I landed late today…. not so much. Of course the listing on the internet made it look much better and I got sucked in by the idea of an outdoor pool. The dry heat here makes you hanker for the water we disdain at home.  The pool was filled with a bunch of young kids and a few moms, sitting in the big pine chairs. I suddenly felt really funny going out there… especially in a two piece.  I’ll be honest, if I look in a mirror on the way out, I shouldn’t be wearing it anyway. BUT, I hate the feel of one pieces and I just don’t look. I pretend I look better and then repeat to myself over and over: I don’t care what anyone else thinks, I don’t care what anyone else thinks. However, somehow today I cared. I would have felt slutty walking out in this small, western town, in anything other than a mumu and one piece. Couldn’t find the one piece, don’t own the mumu.  As it is, I seem to stand out in this town a bit more than I did over the past 10 days, I maybe appear… well, I’ll get to the word in a minute.

Last night I was walking around West Yellowstone looking for an ice cream place a friend had suggested. I popped in to the strangest place and got a lesson in wolf management from an elderly couple who owned the business.  I  walked in a large barn door, covered in touristy stuff,  and there was a giant stuffed moose (8′ tall), a buffalo, a bronking buck, and something else, all with saddles on them. Frankly, I was so stunned that I stopped looking around and plastered a super friendly smile on my face to greet the elderly lady, who had a giant white beehive hairdo and a bright pink boa on. Her husband, I assume, was pure cowboy.  The idea of the place is that you get to sit up on these (real) stuffed animals and they take your picture, with a realistic background and you can tell friends you rode one of the aforementioned animals. Gave me the creeps! I was trying not to insult, with my “what the…” gape, so, again, I just smiled.  I had come in to ask directions for ice cream, not insult the local folk.  (There are plenty of funky places in W. Yellowstone.)

(One of the many touristy places to eat in W. Yellowstone, MT)

Instead, we got in to a discussion that started with moose. Having spent a good deal of time in Maine and NH where there are lots of moose, and having seen them in the wild, I knew that the enormous stuffed one there was real. Others popping their heads in (I noticed that on one else actually came all the way in), thought it was fake, something that clearly bothered the owners. Anyway, talking about moose, lead to why they’re a rare sighting in Yellowstone.  A moose sighting is a highly coveted “bucket list” item, a term you hear daily as people scramble to photograph anything that moves in the brush. I am not even trying to see one. I know I wont.

That’s when the man sprung it on me. He was explaining that the wolf population in Yellowstone has gotten way too big, and they need to open the hunting season on wolves. I held my gasp. Having spent days trying to see these amazing animals, I was appalled. But then, I have to admit that I don’t really know… maybe the wolves have become a problem?  This couple was explaining that the wolves kill all the moose babies (awww) and they “don’t even eat ’em, they just do it for sport, nasty animals,”  he told me. But, the man explained, these (wait, wait, here comes the word) “HIGHFALUTIN lawyers come in and make it hard, let those baby moose be kilt.”  Honestly, he used that word!  Highfalutin.  I think they caught on that I wasn’t showing the same wolf killing enthusiasm and they clammed up (a term that most Montanans probably don’t use) right quick and told me to try the place two blocks down for home made ice cream.  They pleasantly informed me that they hadn’t tried it themselves, but that “all the other tourists like it.”  Feh. Again, for the sake of fairness and the record:  They were very nice people, very nice.  The fact that we have different opinions about killing wolves doesn’t change that fact. They were very nice.

Well, that word stuck in my head: High falootin, or so I imagined it spelled.  All day, as I drove, I wondered if it was a real word, or just a term that you hear in hokey Western movies and in stuffed animal kitsch tourist shops. Well folks, it’s a real word, in the dictionary!  It can actually be spelled: highfalutin or (for you sticklers of grammar) highfaluting. The first probably being the slang for the second?  They’re both in the dictionary.  And, that’s what I would have felt like in my two piece: highfalutin.  I’m feeling edgy, so I’m going with the slang people. Just when you were wondering if I’d get back to the bathing suit…

My BMW seems to stand out here, my style stands out–and really, it’s very Bellingham… nothing that shouts out highfalutin. But, the two piece, I think would have come under the W word, or possibly the S word.  The car, I get. Plenty of folks have asked me about it. It was the car that brought Ranger John K. and I together, and set me on my wolf expedition. I helped him post grizzly signs in Lamar, while he told me stories.  He liked my car he said. He was fond of the x5 and told me he’d driven a manual once and liked it so much, he “would have traded in his truck right there.” No doubt.  The ranger truck was tempting, given my new desire to be a real ranger, BUT, it doesn’t take turns and go 0-60 like my baby.

However, ’round these here parts… I think I look a bit highfalutin in it.  Why else when I pulled up tonight, in downtown Cody (a strip of a town), would 3 gentleman watch me park, watch me lock it up, look it up and down and then when I met their stares, tip their hats and say “evenin’ mam.”  Do they greet everyone?  By the way, they say mam and sir a lot here. Talk to a young waiter/waitress and they say “How you doin’ mam? Yes mam. Can I help you mam.”  I just smiled and said “Evenin’ sirs.” The lack of good dining and then the sense that I didn’t fit in, led me to skip the rodeo tonight (I’ll go tomorrow) and come back to my sad little room. Sorry, a little more pathos. Yesterday was a very strange and incredibly productive day, which probably helps make tonight feel even more shoddy by comparison.

(Spoiler: joy)  Yesterday I got an amazing amount of writing done in two exceptionally beautiful places!  I found a spot in Firehole canyon: a rock bluff just above the rapids and falls, and did a lot of the writing there.  No need to spell it out, if you read the fly fishing entry, but this was more adult material. Suffice it to say, rapids are highly conducive to very mature writing. I then drove over to Yellowstone Lake and found a calm, quiet spot by the water to finish the chapter. I had a total brain storm the night before (was up ’til 2:00 thinking through plot, etc) and knew just how I wanted this chapter to end.  I can say, because it’s my blog, this is a kick ass chapter!  I was totally in The Zone and it just flowed.  The plot came together perfectly and as the dialogue and scene wrote itself, I was totally lost to the process. When I finished, I just knew this would be the final chapter of the novel. I will need to do a little editing of other chapter, to accommodate the changes, and will scrap about 4 other chapters, but this is it.  I had a moment of homesickness, when I wished I could give it to my writing group right now and get their feedback. They don’t mince words; they’ll tell me if it’s as good as I think.  When I typed the last words, I just burst in to tears. Really. There in that gorgeous spot, alone with my lap top… I cried like a fool.  Joy, joy, unbridled joy.  This place just brings big emotions right out!  Face it, I’ve been working on this for years and it finally seems like an end is in sight, that is worthy of some high emotion!

The other big thing that happened, that effected my entire day, was that just before heading out yesterday, I checked my email and found an update from the program leader of the wilderness trip AJ is taking. Though I think of him each day (wonder where in this incredible park he is) I wasn’t thinking about him right then. I was thinking about the chapter I was going to work on.  However, as it turned out, the group was camping just 20 minutes from me!!  In fact, I was going to have to drive right by their camp site to get where I was going, to write, yesterday.  They had stopped at a formal camp site to gear up for a big back packing section.  In a park this big, it was amazing to me that he would end up right down the road from me!

So, for the (all important) record: I would not have gone driving down there to look for him.  I would not have! However, a friend in MN  who I was chatting on line with, did give me a stern warning: Don’t you dare go!  I might have, perhaps, driven nearby and used my binocs to see if perhaps I could spot the elusive AJ in the wild… but I would not have approached him. Said friend forbid even that.  But, solo loving me cannot deny, I ached to see my boy. I would have given anything to just get a little glimpse, preferably of him smiling, laughing even, with a group of kids who he seemed to have made friends with. A bonus would be him holding up his prize catch.  I was sorely tempted.

Ok, say it: weeny.  I just can’t shake the mom thing. Can’t wait to get away from them, miss them and think about them when I do. I resent that they don’t write me notes, telling me how much they miss me, but know that my behavior before I left set that up. The older two, I presume (hope) are giving me my space, and little man (AJ) has no choice. He’s working on that maturity, independence thing. This is what I wanted, what I demanded: isolation and space. Got it. Still, for the rest of the day, I kept wondering if I would see the group somewhere, stumble upon them… by accident.

The dilemma of course is that if AJ is miserable, it would be terrible to see that and then leave him… if he is having the time of his life, it would tarnish that experience, running in to mom… out in the wild. It would change the etnire experience.  As I wrote the final section of what I now believe is the final chapter of my novel, 2 white vans with a bunch of kids drove by. I’m sure they didn’t see me, over in the trees, by the water. I happened to look up right then, and (seriously) got goose bumps as the vans passed. My baby? Could he have been in one of those vans? I may never know. But, I passed on the most obvious chance to fill my yearning and went way around the camp area where he was staying.  Even if I had parked and then hid in the bushes, using my trusty binoculars, chances are, he would have spotted my highfalutin car and the gig would be up.

Posted in Honest observations on many things, Humor, Mothers, Parenting, road trip, travel, Women's issues | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

When I’m wrong… it’s rare.

Posted on July 9, 2011 by Dawn Quyle Landau

Ok, when I’m wrong, I’ll post a retraction. It’s rare, but here goes… the biker dudes I met at Alpine Motel, are nice guys from NY.  Upstate NY.  Don’t like the Red Sox, but I can forgive that… if you’re from Boston you have to like the Red Sox, but let’s face it, I’m not exactly a sports fan.

So cute young front desk guy, at the cool cottages I’m staying at, told biker dudes that they should talk to “Dawn in cottage 10, she knows a lot about the park.”  Go figure.  I think that because I like to write about places, I just get to the bottom of things/places/etc quickly… and I’m flying solo, so I have in fact driven down most of the open roads in the park in the past 5 days. I’ve driven miles and miles of that park and spent about 13-15 hrs a day there, each day. Still, it was amusing to have Mike show up at my door, and ask if I’d help.  We walked back to the office to use cute guy’s big map and Mike introduced me to “big Frank, the God of travel.”  Cute young guy chimed in, “Well, meet the Godess of travel!”  Quite an introduction from a guy I met 24 hrs ago. Admittedly, cute guy and I have hit it off and have shared park stories, but this was a whole new charming.  Frank and I did a play face off and Frank lead with “show me what you got Goddess.”  While I hate the use of “lol”… LOL.

So big Frank, who is in fact about 6’3”, and huge, with a Harley t-shirt and big muscles, continues:  “they tell me you really know this park Dawn, can you help us plan our trip.”  THIS  whole scene was amusing, even for jaded me.  Forget cliches, big Frank was a big pussycat, from upstate NY. He and Mike made fun of the sox in bad Boston accent imitations, to rattle me and see if I’d whimper,  but chuckled and gave up when I gave them a spot on “Don’t you know it” in my best NY accent (which, is good).  Frank’s wife had joined us by now and was asking all kinds of questions… but Frank just said “We’re gonna do what Dawn says” and that was the end of all discussion.  Mike and Frank thanked me, gave me that hand sign that any good Hawaiian knows means “hang ten, take it easy”, and left me laughing with cute desk guy.  By then, I was starving and asked for burger advice from cute guy. He gave me the town map and sent me on what ended up being a wild goose chase. I made the mistake of going to the market first, to get a few quick essentials, and then trying to find a place called “the lounge”, the cute guy said had real burgers and was quieter.  Headache demanded quieter, stomach wanted real burgers, not frozen patties.

However, even with a map, I could not find this place.  I found the local theater, which was doing a live performance of Joseph and the Joseph and the  Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat (right at the good part when Pharoah does Elvis) and I couldn’t help but watch for a few minutes. Having seen Donny Osmond in the role, twice, I feel I can say: this was a damned good little performance.  But, I was hungry and set out again to find the lounge. I was walking down this dark street, back an forth and finally a shadow, who had been loading his car, said “do you need some help”… it occurred to me that it was dark and who knows who he was, but I stopped and admitted to being very lost.  Slap me now, because this man was movie star gorgeous!  Rugged, salt and pepper short cut, with a day of face hair, built and super smile… I was dying to ask him if he did any fly fishing. My age and fine, fine, fine… nice to see stepping out of a dark street.  He didn’t know where “the lounge” was but chatted with me for longer than we needed to and suggested another place, across the street.  This guy was flirting so nicely, I ALMOST forgot the burger.  When I crossed the street, the place was just turning their “closed” sign over.  “Need another suggestion” cute guy my age called, across the street. Oh so tempting, but I just thanked him and pretended to know where I was walking to.

Who do I run in to next?  Biker Mike.  He’s on his way to buy fruit at the market… “hey Dawn!  Travel Goddess, it’s me, Mike.” he calls out.  Cute guy my age looked over and waved, as he drove off.  I just wanted a burger so badly by then! But before you know it, Mike is telling me all about how he doesn’t really fit in with the other bikers (he’s “new to it, the others have been riding together for years”); he sure wishes he had his ex and 3 grown kids with him (um, what would current biker girlfriend think of that, he told me about gf too); all the places they stopped on their way out (Badlands, Sturgis, Devil’s claw); and he’s wondering why I’m all alone.  Well Mike, I’m alone because I like to be alone.  I am polite, even friendly, but I tell Mike I need a hamburger before I die.  However, every place in town, except for one bar, that I just couldn’t handle, was closed.

For the first time in umpteen years, I ate a Dairy Queen burger, in my room… broke my solemn vow to not eat fast food. It’s been about 8 yrs since I’ve eaten at a McDonalds, and this was awfully close…  But damn, when you need a burger, you need a burger.  Arriving back to my cottage, Frank and some buddies were sitting outside talking. “Night Dawn!  Thanks for all the help” he yelled.  I sat alone in my unit, eating that burger, and it tasted good.  

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Sex and flyfishing, bad parents and bikers. Not that they’re connected…

Posted on July 9, 2011 by Dawn Quyle Landau

Warning:   May not be appropriate for the sexually squeamish, my children, spouse, or those who like to gossip.

Ok, I’ll say it: I’m seeing a lot of very sexy fly fishermen. Yea, Brad Pitt made it look good in A River Runs Through It, and I’ve always wanted to learn… but frankly, I had kind of pictured heavy set men, in weird green waders, standing along the banks. Not so here in Yellowstone. While others are pulling over to watch elk and bears, I find myself wanting to just pull over and watch a few of these fine looking men throw that line thingy out in to the water over and over.  Stepping back, there is pure poetry and beauty in the way these guys fish. It’s a beautiful thing, and I could probably watch an ugly guy do it for a while and still be happy. However, some of them are just down right gorgeous hunks of manly outdoorsy sexiness, in rubber overalls and vests. And that sets me back a bit… it’s just in my nature to make fun of these guys. The waders, the vest they all seem to wear, the funny hats (for those not wearing baseball type hats)… I am just so tempted to put on my best drawl and make fun.

BUT… the men here in Montana just look different, even in those clothes.  I have seen so many broad shouldered, trim men who make those waders look hot, and I don’t mean weather conditions. Suddenly I’m driving down the road, dreaming of fishing encounters, instead of looking for geysers and other wild life. It could be the time traveling alone. Men can say it, so I will:  you just miss knowing that you can have sex if you want to. While I can single handedly take care of all of my needs (read that however you want), this is when you miss a companion. This is when the solitary life loses just a tiny bit of its shimmer, not enough to send me running home… but enough to cause some oggling of fly fishermen.

This may also have to do with why I got so much writing done today, as well. I’m working on two particular chapters of the novel,  that have some very explicit sexual content.  Stating a fact, I can write sex really well. While it’s been a tad awkward to submit some of those chapters (ok, yes, there are more than a couple) to my writing group, the feedback has been very positive. I’m not exactly bragging about that… but for those of you who gossip, that’s how it will be retold anyway, and for my kids… if you read this far despite the warning: Mom writes good sex.  Today, with manly men all around, missing the the chance to act on such feelings, I think my writing took a decidedly exciting step forward. Inspiration: it is all over this park!

Regarding bad parents… there are a lot of them in wild places. Maybe because my own children are not here, for me to make my own mistakes with, I’m noticing all these other parents making them. At Old Faithful, 6 yr old (ish) child takes his cup and just tosses it out on to the gravel area around the geyser.  I am aghast. My kids would never do that! Good mom, pulls jr aside and quietly has a fairly lengthy, serious looking chat with him.  Good mom, good mom I’m thinking… teach your son that we never throw garbage anywhere but in the trash, especially in these special places. I sit there on the bench, pleased that other moms teach this. However, when she is finished, she looks over at the cup, no doubt realizing she’ll have to step off the platform to get it, and walks away. Bad mom. What was the point in scolding jr if, in the end, your message is “well, if it’s too much trouble, littering is ok for now”?  I picked the cup up and threw it away.  I pick up a lot of people’s litter as I walk.

Case #2- pulled in to a picnic area, as there was this amazingly huge bison bull standing right there, 3 ft from the paved area. The setting was beautiful and I saw a great picture in my grasp. One other carload of people was already there, watching quietly, and we all exchanged knowing smiles… we were catching a moment in Yellowstone. A third car, minivan, pulled up and promptly a father jumped out. The bull looked his way, at the sudden movement, but stayed where he was standing. Before we could say “are you out of your fucking mind”, he pulls out his 3 little girls and lines them up about 6′ in front of the bull for a photo. I glance at car 1 and we all have the same horrified look. (Ok, so maybe this bull is going to just stand there, but given that bison are by far the most dangerous animals in the park, what I’m seeing seems pretty damned scary).

As we watch, the dad keeps ushering the girls back a little more with a flutter of his hand… a more exciting picture would be for them to pet the bull no doubt. He speaks no English, because when I try to say quietly, “that’s not a good idea”, he smiles and nods.  Then the little girls, all blowing bubbles with their gum and laughing, begin clapping their hands and clicking, like you would to get a horse moving.  Damn!  I snapped.  “Stop that, stop that now” I hissed loudly, wagging my finger at dad. The girls looked my way, trying to figure out what this meant, the dad paused and then started to take another picture… “right now!! stop that!!”   He may not have spoken English but he figured out that he didn’t want this crazy lady coming after him. I am clearly more frightening than a 2000 lb bison, when angered. He promptly ushered the girls back in the car and they drove away.  The other car rolled down their windows and congratulated me on taking charge… I felt a moment’s  guilt frankly, knowing that perhaps I really should just mind my own business, the bull was still just standing there. No harm.  But I hadn’t stopped to photograph 3 little pink girls get gored by a pissed off bison.

The stories of bad parents abound here. People actually feeding water mellon to a coyote: illegal, dangerous, and plain old stupid, and then throwing the water mellon on the ground as they leave, while their kids take pictures and clamber to get closer.  As I pulled up the mother told me: “There’s a wolf in there, my husband’s feeding it water mellon” (she had a deep drawl) “A wolf? are you sure? I’ve just spent 3 days with one of the world’s leading wolf experts and a lot of wolfers over in Lamar, and wolves really don’t come over here.”  I said.  “Weeeell, my husband told me it’s a wolf, and he’s feeding it right over there.”    “Well, no one should be feeding any of these animals, but how exciting for you all.”  Ok, I did sound sanctimonious. I did. And, just in case I was wrong, I crept over closer, past the young boy clicking away with his camera, and there was a man throwing pieces of water mellon to a coyote.

I walked back to my car and she smiled, “See, is it a wolf?”   “No, I’m absolutely sure it’s a coyote” I stated.  My wolf expertise expanded as I spoke and my arrogance as well.  Right then her husband Jimmy  came over with a huge grin and before I could say bohicky  his wife said:  “This here lady’s a wolf expert and she says that’s a coyote Jimmy.” Jimmy did not look pleased and turned on me quickly:  “That’s a woof lady, I’m pretty certain of that fact.  And how would you know anyway?”   I wasn’t actually looking to have a fight with Jimmy, in some isolated canyon, but his tone just bothered me.   “Well sir, I’ve been watching wolves for 3 days in the Lamar Valley, where they live.  They don’t come over here. I’m absolutely certain that is coyote.”   “I’ve been around the block a few times lady and that there is a woof.”  Ok, this is where I had to draw the line… be the stream I so often miss being.  I smiled and said “Then that was a very amazing sighting. When you get those pictures back, it will be pretty cool to show them to your friends.”  His wife looked at me knowingly and followed Jimmy back to their camper.

Let Jimmy show his friends those photos.  I can only wonder what block he’s been around, but that thar was a cayote.  As I exited the park today, I couldn’t help myself.  “Excuse me ranger… are there any wolves over in Firehole canyon?”  “Absolutely not, why?”   “Well, I saw this man feeding water mellon to what he insisted was a wolf.  Looked like a coyote to me.”  “Idiot!  I hope you told him not to feed that coyote… loads of coyote back there, but people like that get them killed, feeding them…(blah blah blah, Ranger info)  they start getting aggressive around humans, because they want food.” I smiled appreciatively.  Ranger had me at “Idiot.”

I had planned to eat dinner in the park, and headed out toward Old Faithful, hoping to find a good burger tonight. However, I’ve had a sinus infection since day 2 of this trip and it took a bad turn over night. I’ve now got a bit of a fever and a killer headache that I just can’t seem to shake.  Here in West Yellowstone, pharmacy’s only open M-F … Montanans don’t get sick on weekends I presume.  I was stupid to leave home without antibiotics, given my immune deficiency. When I get sick, it can get bad quickly. However, I figured my pharmacy at home could just ok an antibiotic (there’s always one on record at home) and I’d be much better by tomorrow. Nope. I have to wait this baby out until Monday.  I was planning to go to the rodeo tonight, but not sure I could handle all those Rodeo princesses and prayers, with this particular headache.

I realized 3/4 of the way to O.F. that all I wanted to do was come back to my quiet little cabin, find a good burger, read my book and finish another chapter I started writing.  Bikers.  About 15 motorcycles, all red, white or blue (for real folks) lined up where cars had been this morning.  The rumbling of their coming and going has already changed my night. The fact that this particular group seems to need to yell their laundry plans, dinner plans and jokes across the parking lot, doesn’t help. “Carl, you want me to run some of your under ware baby?”

Ok, so no doubt this headache is not helping my tendency for somewhat prejudiced cliches and snarky comments here, but NO doubt, somewhere out there, Jimmy is telling his friends about that uppity East coast lady (I’m sure he read that in my manners) who couldn’t tell a cayote from a woof.

Posted in Honest observations on many things, Humor, Nature, Parenting, road trip, summer vacation, travel, Women's issues | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Spontaneous combustion

Posted on July 8, 2011 by Dawn Quyle Landau

I arrived tonight in West Yellowstone, at the far west side of the park. It was another glorious day of rambling, exploring the world around me and my thoughts. The endless beauty of this place blows my mind. Today, as I hiked around the loop at Old Faithful, nearing dusk, I stopped for a moment to look around and truly felt high. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion and all my senses were so heightened.  A crazy storm had come through as I drove to O.F…. serious thunder and lightening, downpour and then hail that was so hard I thought it would damage my car! I had to pull off on this isolated stretch, where I had a glimpse of Lake Yellowstone, and the alpine-like forest surrounding. It was unreal! I just sat there, pulled as far under the tree cover as possible, and listened to the thunder and hail assault the world around me.  To then be in full sun and the magical colors of late day, early dusk, surrounded by geysers, steam, crystal aquamarine pools of water and grasses… just 30 minutes later, was a trip without shrooms.

I wondered how Little Man is doing out there in this wilderness.  Is he as amazed by all this splendor and wonder, or is he overwhelmed?  He is a kid who sees beauty, really sees it. He often stops to point out something that I would appreciate too and frequently calls “mom!  do you see this sunset tonight!”  So, I paused during the storm and wondered if he was safe, away from harm, and amazed like me. Again, the constant whisper of my kid’s presence… even when I am actively not being a mom.

That.  Funny how that mom thing permeates so many experiences, but how I also fight to let it take over the moment. Last night, I pulled over upon coming to a crowd.  Want to see wild life in Yellowstone?  Stop where the crowds have gathered.  There, high in a very thin aspen were two tiny bear cubs. Clearly frightened by the strangers (and VERY young) they had rushed up the tree and were trying to get away. The mother, sat quietly at the base of the tree, barely visible to most viewers. Occasionally, her ears would perk up at the sound of a motor cycle (animals do not like motor cycles it seems) or some other scent or sound; otherwise, she was barely visible. The cubs would reach the  very tip of the tree, their weight making the limb bend precariously. The crowd would gasp’ all of us afraid that one of them would fall to the bottom, but all hoping to get the perfect photo. Three-four dozen lenses, including mine, aimed at the two babies, who were clearly frightened and just trying to get away. They would try to come down, but slip, get startled and scamper further up again.

Suddenly, I became very aware, as a mother, that we were putting this other mother’s babies in peril.  We were all waiting, watching, hoping to see something, as these two tiny cubs, tried to get away from the danger, but didn’t know what to do.  Who knows what bears really feel and think; they may have been curious, but seeing that top limb bend and the smaller cub cling to the trunk, they looked terrified.  The mother, seeing the large crowd, could only wait and watch as well.  I felt terrible. As a mom, I really felt like I have when I see one of my kids, or another child somewhere, being bullied. I wanted to call out… Ok, folks, let’s leave these babies alone.  Instinct. A defensive tug that made me want to jump in help the cubs.

It passed though, as I realized that the ranger, walking up and down the group of people, making sure no one wandered closer, called out, or “harassed” the bears, was doing that job.  I like all the others,  stayed and took my photos, shots of two black blobs in a tree, in dimming light. I waited until both were down from the tree and ambling off in to the darkening dusk with their mom, the show over.  I hope my cub is safe and warm as well.

Today, I listened to Eddie Vedders soundtrack from Into the Wild… yes, I hear the groans… but, music is my companion on this trip.  It is what feeds me on any given day, but here, it is the other passenger in my car. I get to choose who I hang out with. “The music divides us in to tribes” (Arcade Fire) and right now I choose my companions carefully.  The book In To the Wild was very powerful, as was the movie. The music, I loved from the first time I listened.  Eddie Vedder captured the story so well and the music speaks to wild place, personal journeys and losing yourself.  Isolation.  Today, in this place, I heard it all in a new light. I listened twice as I drove up and down the Lamar Valley, watching for wolves.

“Comes the morning, when I can feel, that there’s nothing left to be concealed, moving on a scene surreal, no my heart will never be far from here… sure as I’m breathing, sure as I’m sad, I’ll keep this wisdom in my flesh, I’ll leave here believin’ more than I had, that there’s  a reason,  I’ll be back.  As I walk , The Hemisphere,  I’ve got my wish  To up and disappear, I’ve been wounded, I’ve been healed…
I leave here believing
More than I had
This Love has got
No Ceiling”

Man, that man can write and his voice, which I love anyway, brings me to my knees in this wild place. THAT is not a figure of speech. To my knees. His voice echoed the sound of the wolves, and the place I was and I just cried in the total beauty and rapture of the place and moment. Why have I not done this before? I’ve gone off to cities, gone off to see people… but “I think I need to find a bigger space”… The air is so sweet here, the clean sweetness of sage, pine and fresh air.  Every bend in the road takes my breath away. Like touring a good museum, full of the masters, I am exhausted and invigorated all at once. Each vista takes my emotions to new levels.

All this emotion, this passion, is draining and yet such a part of me… I’ve finally found a place big enough, expansive enough, to just be in it and not feel like I have to explain myself or apologize for my actions. I could feel it all and it would still drift away on the sage scented breeze here. How strange to spend hours not talking to anyone (those who know me, will laugh), but only hear my own voice finally, singing along to a song. I’ve gotten to know a few of the “wolf people” the past few days and have chatted with them, but sometimes spend hours not talking to anyone. By the way, wolfers are very eccentric people. Spending two days with them was just about enough, but it was fun to be accepted in to their pack for that time and welcomed at each new vista. Got to meet Rick McIntyre, one the world’s leading experts on wolves, and share some stories. Ranger John had told me that Rick was a bit “eccentric”, but then, aren’t we all, out here?

I was struck, over and over today, that this adventure, in THIS place has really brought home one of the big challenges I have:  Stop and appreciate the moment, take this experience in and be present… vs… hurry, on to the next viewing, what am I missing, push, push to the next experience.  That moment when everything slowed tonight, or today when hundreds of bison were across the Lamar Valley and no one else was there, those moments were so grounding, so special. I was absolutely present and calm.  However, the excitement of racing up the valley to see a grizzly and wolf fight for a carcass, to catch a glimpse of 2 grizzlies in a clearing, to see the NE entrance and know I went from one end to the other… each made me feel alive, excited.  How to find that balance in life, accepting that I am not content to remain in either state for too long.

How to go home from this?  I could just disappear and at what point would I miss what I have?  I NEED this, I need to get out and do this more often, in the hopes that I am then content to really enjoy book group, my friends, my family, the social person I am at home: all of the things that make up my life back there….outside these open spaces. My 2 trips to India and then Africa were this same thing, but met very different needs.  India is part of me, somewhere I will return over and over. There it is the infinite experiences, the intensity of life in such a different and colorful world. It assaults my sense, but fills me in a way that is hard to share.  I think now, that this place is the same, but for completely different reasons. Here, I can be totally silent and my senses are assaulted in a less visceral way.  Both places fill me and I will return to both.

I watched a geyser today that erupts about every 12 hrs, for anywhere from 15-40 minutes. Intense bursts of steam shooting in to the sky and just continuing until it gurgles down again. It reminded me of the volcano that Middle Man made in elementary school. Pour the ingredients in the top and it just boils over. Standing there, my son and his  science project whispered to me, my daughter’s journey to discover who she is (and my struggle to let her), the thoughts of whether my youngest is safe and getting something important from his experience… all this played in my head as I watched the eruption. The same whispers were there as the thunder and lightening crashed around me; I have always loved the big storms, the release of energy and the calm that comes after.  I am not made to drift along peacefully, as many of the people I admire do. How I’ve tried to be like that, wanting to fit in and be part of that way of thinking and acting:  Having my “act together”, saying the right things or not saying anything (as others would like so often), drifting along and not making too many waves.

I just don’t flow as easily.  Over and over, I end up missing the mark that way, and then judge myself or feel let down, wondering why I can’t fit with this or that group.  Here, surrounded by all the metaphors, seeing that they all have a place and purpose, it is easier to see and accept that I am like that geyser:   My frustrations, my joys, all the emotions and issues that make me work the way I do, are gurgling under the surface all the time, building up, until I spontaneously combust… blow off steam… get in my car and go.  Then float back to earth.

Posted in Honest observations on many things, Natural beauty, Nature, Parenting, road trip, travel, Women's issues | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Freedom and grizzly bears

Posted on July 6, 2011 by Dawn Quyle Landau

Thanks to very spotty wifi at the little hotel I’ve landed in, in Gardiner, MT, I haven’t been able to post for the past couple of days. That’s ok, it’s given me more time to think and experience this adventure I wanted.  I keep telling friends that I’m “free falling”… Tom Petty wasn’t my inspiration, but the lyrics:  “I wanna free fall out into nothin’,  Gonna leave this world for awhile,  And I’m free, I’m free fallin'”, do suit me right now.  I’ve left my world for a while and I’m just taking it as it comes.  Exploring Yellowstone Nat. Park at my own speed.

Freedom is an interesting thing.  This probably takes me out of the  running for mother of the year, or best wife acollades either, but I don’t really miss my family.  I love them, but I don’t miss them.  As I drive along all day, alone in my car, I love the freedom:  listening to whatever I want on the iPod; turning down whichever road inspires ME; choosing what to do and when to do it, without 4 arguments as to why another direction would be better.  No doubt some would call it narcissistic, selfish.  But for these 10 days, I’m not listening to those people. For these 10 days, I eat when I feel like it (and so far, Ritz crackers and Peanut butter have gotten me thru’ until dinner each night) and I don’t worry about much.  Except bears.

Admittedly, bears have worried me a bit, they always have.  But today, I woke with an anxious feeling about bears in the park. This prompted me to do a quick search of what to do, in my guide book and on line, if I were to encounter a bear, out hiking alone in the park. I also checked with my trusty host, at the little motel I’m at.  He told me, in typical Montana fashion “Yep, there are a lot of bears right now. Bit of a problem for sure.”  However, hiking alone is one of the things I wanted to challenge myself to do and my fear is not new to Yellowstone.  I’ve always been  a bit nervous about bears and mt. lions.

So, I did some research and actually found myself practicing the suggested position that is recommended in the event of a grizzly attack:  hands around head, elbows in front of your face… yes, that is possible, but awkward… in a fetal position.  This by the way is only for Grizzlies. If a grizzly attacks, you face it and don’t run. You yell. They often charge and then retreat. The book noted that this would take a great deal of courage. Um, yea.  With black bears, you do not take this position, because ironically, when a black bear attacks they tend to be more violent and see you as prey.  This, by the way came as a surprise to me.  As I set out hiking today, I hoped to see no bears, grizzly or black, while on the trail.  A sighting from the car, at a photogenic distance,  was much desired.

It’s one thing to brag about choosing the road, food or music you want and being all independent and free while driving:  knowing that you have enough Ritz, peanut butter, hot tamales, and water to survive, should that freak storm arrive, when you’ve taken the wrong road and are stuck, and your cell doesn’t work, and you think you may not be found… I have big balls in those circumstances.  I even stopped by a high mt stream, with no one around, and took a swim.  There were small rapids and I decided to float down stream. Admittedly, when I sunk for a second, it occurred to me that I hoped a car would come by… in case I really was drowning. I exited the water invigorated, cooler (in every sense) and with a small bruise on my ankle, from a tree I hit.  But I walked back upstream and did it again, 3 times. When a group of twenty somethings stopped, they were pretty shocked to see me come floating around the bend… but I had them all in the water in about 10 minutes. Yes, it’s easy to be independent when the field seems safe.

However, I have to also admit to much more trepidation and some mild anxiety, when I set out on a 2 mile hike to a water fall.  The idea of bears came back to me (not to mention elk, bison and other killers) and it suddenly struck me that I never go hiking alone, at home. I am always with one of my kids or my husband. Frankly, I rarely have much choice in those hikes. I can say whether I’ll go or not, but my husband does seem to pick most of our hikes. I have asked him whether he is actually much worse with maps than he admits, or whether he’s a bold faced liar, each time he tells me there will be limited elevation (climbing) and nice easy trails.  I always find myself on some killer switch back, huffing and puffing and whining away. Swearing and cursing myself for not choosing the trail myself. I seem to just hand over the rains, and then complain about the outcome.  For the record, he admitted to both: perhaps not reading the maps as well as he likes to believe, and lying to get the hike he wants. I still fall in to the same trap each time… swearing all the way up and exhilerated when I get there.

That my friends is where freedom can be a bitch. If YOU are making all the choices, you can’t blame anyone else when you miss the turn, or end up on a hot trail that doesn’t go where you hoped.  You can’t ask someone else if they think there might really be bears on this trail, or whether this seems like the right direction. It’s all squarely on my shoulders and I can only bitch at myself.  I can’t deny a moment of goose bumps when I saw a bear track in the mud near one of the geysers, on a long trail I took.  There were other people, theoretically, but there were long gaps when no one was there, and I wondered if I would really have the courage to stand and face a charging bear. For the other record:  I don’t think so.

As I passed other families, part of me couldn’t help but think about what my own kids would or wouldn’t like about this adventure. Who would complain and who would be as amazed as I am at what I’m seeing. In those moments, I don’t know if it was actually missing, but it registered that I am in a different skin this week. Lots of people like to say hi out here and many ask if I’m alone. It occurs to me several times a day that I’m doing many of the things that I’ve warned my kids of for years… talking to strangers and telling them “where I live.”  Not literally, but who knows if that nice guy who stopped to chat with me while I ate my solitary lunch today, is really a nice guy from “Missura” or the stranger I’ve warned my kids about.  You start to notice anyone who ends up at more than one of the same stops as you, in the course of a day. At one point, a young guy who had been on “my” same tour most of the day, finally said hi and we each took a picture for the other one. (That is another thing about being solo: you don’t end up in many of your own pictures).  As a woman alone, I definitely have to think twice about a few more things.

I wonder if I should feel more guilty in enjoying my carefree ramblings, than I do. Am I a bad mom for not missing my kids more? A few people who have struck up conversations seem to register an odd expression when I tell them I’m taking time away from home and hearth. Am I reading too much in to their expressions?  Some women have said “lucky you!”  as they grapple with crying little ones and sullen teens. I do feel lucky.  I would be a big, fat liar if  I didn’t say I don’t think about my own and my husband. I have been a mom for 21 years now and married for 25. It has become part of me that is impossible to truly leave at home. Some of the connections are unconscious, they just are there.  “AJ would love this;  EL would love that; I’d like to show EM this”… not fully expressed thoughts, but mere whispers in my mind. Their presence there, whether I invite it or not.

But as I drive, listening to U2s Wild Honey, or Bon Jovi’s It’s My Life (so cliche,but spectacular crossing a wide, sweeping vista), or any other song I choose and sing along to, turning off whenever a sign or road catches my interest, I do not miss anyone. I am grinning like a Cheshire Cat and enjoying the day.

The bear.  Tonight, when I finally made it back to Gardiner  (a tiny little town just a half mile from the North entrance) and had settled down at the local restaurant I like, I used my cell phone to check up on emails and messages. With a pint of local beer and a steak, and a rainbow across the wide field I was looking at, life looked pretty golden and freedom was sweet. On my facebook page were several notes from friends, the last three asking me (fairly anxiously ) if I was ok. One friend had made a comment about a bear attack… which, I actually thought was a joke. Until other posts popped up asking me if I was ok. I quickly checked the online news, to see that a middle aged man, hiking with his wife, was attacked and killed by a grizzly, in the exact area I was exploring today.  Of note, hundreds of other travelers were exploring there too (it’s a crowded park)…. but I did have some moments today when I was totally alone.  The poor wife who survived this attack– she was grabbed by the bear but was thrown down. Her husband yelled run (which, by the way they advice not to do… but again, courage would fail most of us given those circumstances) and he was killed, while she ran for help.

Thank goodness, there was also an email from the director of the program that my youngest, AJ, is doing in the back country of Yellowstone. He was very worried about bears, and I reassured him that it was unlikely he’d even see one. It was a huge relief to get the email, right after seeing the story.  The director reassured us all that in 39 yrs, their groups have never had to use their bear mace and that they are always in large groups, and well trained in bear encounters. Just the same, I am hoping that AJ did not hear about this story. I know it will scare him, and that is something that I will think about now. It’s instinct. The bear killed the man to protect her cubs. I worry about my son being scared, because, well, I’m a mom…. instinct.

The story brought me crashing back to reality for a big chunk of my dinner. In addition to thinking about AJ and hoping that he wasn’t scared out there, that he’s having all the fun we wanted him to have, it brought my fears front and center.  What would I have done if I’d happened upon this same bear and her cubs. Would I have been more prepared, because I had done my research?  Or, would I be dead, because I’m “free falling” and there would have been no spouse to yell “run”?  Would my spouse actually yell run, or would he run ahead?  He’s been known to.  Would freedom have cost me more than this adventure is worth?

Though I had asked for a small beer, I drank the entire pint that the waiter brought by accident, and decided that maybe I’ll stick to freedom in my car for the duration. I will hike, but will choose only the well constructed board walks that abound in this park. I will be a little more nervous, so I might just cosy up to other families,  and while on the trails, pretend I’m free.  The reality:  my freedom just took a small detour.

Posted in Natural beauty, Parenting, travel, traveling alone, Women's issues | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Giddy up.

Posted on July 3, 2011 by Dawn Quyle Landau

Arrived in Jackson Hole today and so far love it.  The first day of driving, Friday the 1st, was a bit tough, as I’d had only 5 hrs sleep the night before and was wiped out. AJ and I stopped in Spokane the first night, where I got my new MacBook Air and we made the most of some time out of the car, in a fun city. We may stop there en route back.  Can’t deny some misgivings when I had to pull of the hwy on the way and take a nap, outside a farmhouse. AJ listened to David Sedaris‘ Me Talk Pretyy One Day, while I snoozed in the hot eastern Washington heat. A second nap came at a rest stop, where I woke drooling on the grass. AJ pointed out that it occurred to him, while I dozed on the grass, that this was how kids like him were grabbed and sold in to slavery… mother of the year. We made it just outside Coer D’Alene, ID after dinner, and crashed at a Best Western.

Next day we made great time and took a detour to the National Buffalo Refuge in Moiese, Montana. Cool place with beautiful scenery and not enough buffalo to thrill mama bear. For a change, AJ was the glass half full member of our party and he felt that a herd of 15-20 was great! I was looking for a Dances with Wolves moment when all those tatonka would appear over the hill. Not in the cards. We managed to find one lone buffalo, about 100 ft from the road, rocking mysteriously back and forth and breathing heavily. We thought we’d lucked upon a female giving birth, and settled in to watch the amazing moment when the calf arrived. Nope, just a lone bull, rubbing himself against a big rock. That was the thrill of the day, as the rest of the “thousands of buffalo” could only be seen from a significant distance and were mostly lying around in the heat. No Kevin Costner moment, but AJ loved it.

As the roads were empty and the gravel road easy to drive, and we were in Montana (where kids seem to drive by 6), I pulled over and offered to let AJ have his first try at driving a car. This came as a shock initially, but he got past his nerves and eventually took the wheel.  Within minutes he was taking the curvy road at 30 mph (which frankly, did feel a bit fast) and grinning like a Cheshire.  I kept telling him how well he was doing and just when he was getting a tad cocky and believing that he could actually handle the beast, he realized that we had gained quite a bit of elevation and there was a considerable drop off the one side. This was enough to remind him that maybe drivers ed would come in handy and he let me take the driver’s seat back. A shiny moment for both of us, on our grand adventure.

We drove on to Bozeman and had to really scramble for a room to sleep in, night 2… we made the mistake of having the best pizza (and a micro brew for me) at Mackenzie River Pizza Co. The dinner was great, but when done, all rooms were gone. We ended up driving back up the hwy, stopping at exit after exit and finally staying at a place that gave AJ the willies, though it turned out just fine.  Note to self:  room first, food second from now on.

Today, Bozeman to Jackson Hole was endless vistas and wide open roads, where I could take the baby up to 85, easily. We missed the west entrance of Yellowstone (too much podcast, not enough GPS), but managed to hit a section of the park anyway, as well as the Teton pass. Hit Jackson Hole just in time for dinner… Cadillac Steakhouse got me my cocktail (hello, much needed by then!), a 16 ounce porterhouse (and yes, I ate it all) and scored AJ the kickass burger he’s been waiting for.

Everything comes down to “my last” right now for him:  My last soft bed for 2 wks; my last burger; my last day with a shower; etc  He’s nervous and excited all at once, but more nervous.  I don’t want to give him false optimism, but am trying to reassure him that this will probably go very well and end up being one the great adventures of his life. There will be bigger, better ones, no doubt… but the ones you have in your childhood, as with so many experiences, are often elevated to magical heights. We tend to remember the good and bad of our youth in mythical proportions. My honest belief is that when all of these kids are out there in the wilderness, the cliques and other stuff falls away and they will all bond.

AJ is definitely an odd kid, by many 15 yo boy standards. He’s prone to crazy accents (done well I might add), silliness, and hyper energy. He’s been diagnosed with severe ADHD and his energy level is definitely something to be reckoned with at times. Just the same, he is also one of the nicest, sincerest, fun kids I know. When given a chance, I think he will find that he has strengths that he doesn’t know he has. This is what I hope for him. Right now, his nerves have the best of him and I think tomorrow will be a bit tough for him.

As the time comes, I can’t deny some ambivalence of my own.  This is a free fall. I really don’t know what I plan to do for the next couple weeks… if I last that long. I like Jackson Hole so far and will probably spend a few days here to start. I need to find the right place to stay though. In my mind, I’ve pictured a bubolic place, with a river and privacy, near town. If I could find the right place in town, where I could sit at cafes and soak in the local scene, I’d sacrifice the river.

I also want to drive back to W. Yellowstone and find a similar place to hang for a few days while I explore the park by day and write and take in the local flavor by night. The other thought is a dude ranch. I’ve missed riding and would love to hang on a farm for a while, ride and be around a barn again.  A day of white water rafting is on the list as well.  However, aside from these images, I have no actual plan. I have nothing booked, and no plans set yet. It’s both scary and exciting… as the possibilities seem endless and totally limited, depending on my own motivation and drive.

I drop AJ at the Jackson Hole airport at 2:45 tomorrow and the free fall begins.  It will be a whole different adventure without my co-pilot, but I think I’m ready for my  solo flight. Bring on horses, giddy up.

Posted in Mothers, Natural beauty, Parenting, travel, traveling alone, Yee haw | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment