The Great Summer Road trip

Irony never escapes me. I look for it or often see at random a convergence of patterns in time and space. That helps a lot when writing a grand story captured in novel form. So it is that while I wrote my newest novel, THE WARRIORS BAUMANN, essentially a journey to a destination with much importance, so too did I travel to a destination of importance. I have also returned to tell you the tale.

I had known from late spring that a trip would likely be called sometime in July or August, and so I prepared myself. This effort would be assigned to relocating the daughter to a new city in a far away state for the grand purpose of reuniting with the boyfriend. I had driven the route previously and longed to return, although not quite as far as we found necessary. While she was widely-traveled in summers with Dad and in many years since gaining adulthood, she hadn't driven such a long route.

Therefore, I suggested we each drive our vehicles, each loaded up, and use the "POD" method to send the bulk of her worldly possessions to her new home. Her car would also contain her two dogs. I calculated the route, the gas stops, the hotels along the way only to find she had done so already. I guess I  taught her well. She also was a user of GPS tracking while I had a bevy of paper maps judiciously folded to display the portions I needed to see.

Setting out one morning, with delays for last minute packing and other errands, we finally got on the highway and headed north then west to Colorado. In my previous passage through the Denver to Cheyenne segment in 2019, I was harried at every turn by extensive road construction and no rooms at the inns. This time we passed successfully through the evening rush hour traffic and found our hotel for the night.

The next day was a little shorter: all the way to Sheridan, Wyoming. The stop was a chance to again dine at a Taco John's, but she chose a sushi restaurant, which was adequate yet expensive. Next day, we carried on, north into Montana and west across southern Montana to Bozeman. Originally intended to be only a gas stop with Missoula the hotel stop, she learned that her Air Force pilot boyfriend was stuck on base so there was less need to rush there. So we stopped in Bozeman for what turned out to be 2 nights.

I enjoyed my stay in Bozeman in 2023 and welcomed the opportunity to return. I took her to the Montana State U campus and got a new Bobcat shirt, then to Barnes & Noble at the mall to gather maps, then to Qdoba even though Bozeman also has a Taco John's. The boyfriend still delayed on base, we elected to spend the next day touring Yellowstone National Park, 90 minutes' drive south of Bozeman. At her direction we went to different areas than I visited in 2023. When we returned to Bozeman the air was cool and rained overnight, so no need for A/C.

The next morning we headed out to Missoula and points beyond. In my 2023 travels, I had considered driving further west from Missoula but after a day in Glacier National Park and traversing the valley west of the mountains I was too tired and so turned east a bit to Missoula. So we would both be driving new pavement:  into the mountains, up and down and curving sharply this way and that with big trucks passing in the next lane. It was harrowing, but we survived to enter Idaho, the narrow part of the state, and onward to Coeur-d'Alene, then into Washington state and the Spokane metroplex.

We arrived in late afternoon, with me following her through the city at the rush hour, and immediately upon entering the apartment complex, the boyfriend flagged us down, pointing to parking spaces. Expecting they would appreciate the chance to reunite, I put myself in a nearby hotel, the idea being to rest before the return drive. The following day the couple escorted me around the city, having brunch in a refurbished train car, and sailing in a pod over the rapids that run through the city center. The next day, Sunday, I did some writing in my hotel room, then did my own car tour of the area and got supplies for the return trip. Later, I met them at the apartment for dinner.

As I mentioned at the start, I had just finished the draft of my new novel about two brothers on a journey to the capital in future-medieval Missouri. While I drove I listened to music I'd compiled as a soundtrack. As I listened to the music, I planned the story - even though it already exists in screenplay form and two attempts at novelization (more next blog post). Thus, as I went on an amazing journey, so too did my heroes in the novel. As I drove back to my home, I repeated the music and the novel planning. It was a win and also a win!

I had ideas of taking another route back, seeing new places, but I have this strange fixation: when I reach my destination, no matter how long it takes or what I experience on the way, I seem to want to return home as quickly as possible. I told myself it was better to plan a separate trip to see those other areas I was skipping this time. So I repeated the route exactly but in reverse, skipping Yellowstone. I stopped in Bozeman again and got to meet my book cover artist to discuss THE WARRIORS BAUMANN cover ideas. Then I faced the same hassle going south as in 2019.

Driving from Bozeman to Sheridan, stopping for lunch at the Taco John's, I proceeded on across Wyoming with the expectation of stopping for the night in Cheyenne. When I got to Cheyenne, looking for a good gas stop, I decided I could go on to the same hotel we stayed at on the north side of Denver. But it was rush hour and I couldn't make it over to exit and so I continued on, got caught up in the traffic flow but found the way to I-70 eastbound. I decided I could stop for the night at one of the towns along the way. One problem: road construction. It wasn't so much the barrels and one-lanes but the occupancy of the hotels along the way, full of the workers. As night settled around me - much as it had in my 2019 trip - I drove on, weak and weary, feeling dreary, until I landed in Colby, Kansas and got a room. The next morning I timed my checkout to meet the opening of the Taco John's next door.

The remainder of the drive home was a constant battle between my gas mileage and the fierce plains wind, dropping the rate below what it would be for city stop-and-go driving. But I made it home eventually. I unloaded the car and took a nap, then got up and, having no food, ordered a pizza to be delivered. Later, I booted up my desktop machine and copied over my notes from my traveling laptop, ready to write the following morning. With THE WARRIORS BAUMANN on hiatus pending a fresh read-&-revise project, I started in on the next novel, a future-medieval epic titled A TIME OF KINGS (more in a future blog post): think of a war between Midwest city-states c. 3000. That's my story and I'm sticking with it.

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(C) Copyright 2010-2025 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

On The Road Again - 8

My Summer Road Trip, part 8

The hardest part of any endeavor is the end. As a writer, deciding when to end a story, much less a novel, is hard. Deciding when you've said enough and any more would detract from the whole is hard. This includes going on a trip. When have you had enough?

As I traveled I devised bigger plans, grandiose ideas, lofty goals. Yet by the time I had checked off the main destinations on my list, I began to feel anxious and eager to return to the comforts of home. I could've gone farther. I had enough money and maps. Gas prices were tolerable. I was wracking up hotel points. But settling into my hotel in Missoula after a long day going through Glacier National Park and the Flathead Lake area, I knew the end had come.

Awaking to a sunny morning with clear skies, I chose to head east rather than west and called it quits. It would still take two or three days to get home, so I chose a slightly different route than what would've been the most efficient. I continued my pattern of revisiting places first seen in my childhood (reported below). I drove on the accursed I-90 gauntlet back to and through Butte, with the same rocky formations on mountainous curves I dare not try to photograph while driving! I continued on to my second home, Bozeman, and continued on to Billings and turned south as the highway bent, aiming for Wyoming.

I needed gas and stopped at Hardin, MT, close to the Little Bighorn Battlefield Memorial, part of the Crow reservation. After filling my vehicle's tank, I spied a Taco John's and decided to grab lunch. Same item at each location where I ate: the super burrito combo. I must say, this out of the way location was surprisingly good in both the experience with staff (the manager definitely Crow, the staff mixed) and the high quality of the food. I would give it my top score among all the Taco John's on my trip. Excellent!

From there, my destination for the night was the same hotel in Sheridan, Wyoming, just over the border. The next morning I continued on but unlike my west-bound trip coming from Devil's Tower through Gillette, I continued south through Casper - where my 2019 trip troubles began - and veered off toward Nebraska. 

Coming south in 2019, I planned to stop at Casper for the night, but no, the city's hotels were full due to the state baseball tournament. So I drove on. Same, same. I got tired of stopping and checking, decided to go on to Cheyenne. But Cheyenne was full, too, because of the rodeo being held there. Thus, as dusk settled around me, I fill up the tank, grabbed a sandwich and heading south into Colorado. But I quickly discovered the interstate going to Denver was a hellish mess of construction - at one point all traffic was forced to exit the interstate for a detour through back country roads and out to the highway again; I could not have found my way in the dark if not for following everyone else. I thought of stopping, did stop twice, no rooms, continued on until I was arriving in Denver late in the evening. I saw the exit for I-70 and took it, heading due east to Limon where I got the last hotel room (a family suite) but damn glad to get it. In total I had driven from Great Falls, across Montana to Billings, spent 90 minutes at the Little Bighorn Battlefield, then ended up driving all the way through Denver to Limon near the Kansas border. Whew!

I refused to go through Colorado again and took the exit to a state highway that took me to Fort Laramie - near the Nebraska border, far from the city of Laramie in the south-central part of the state. I visited this historic site as a boy, maybe ten or eleven, the perfect age for playing cowboys and cavalry. This time, many years removed, I was surprised to arrive and see the roundabout that took visitors to the site with souvenir shops all around the circle. It jogged my memory! The same place as many years ago. I remembered that roundabout being there way back then. I didn't tour the site again but had a good look. Then I continued on until I entered Nebraska.

Now, folks like to say that Kansas is the most boring drive in these here United States, but lemme tell ya, it's actually Nebraska. That I-80 might be a humdinger of a road over in the east but once you get outta Omaha it ain't nothing to write home about no matter what postage is these days. It almost put the orange-barreled I-90 to shame! Yessiree, I-80 crossing Nebraska is a sight to unsee. But arriving at Scottsbluff, however, there were some sites to see: the geologic formations the area is famous for. On a carefully unfolded paper map you might notice how the Badlands of South Dakota kinda continue southward across western Nebraska and reach this southwest corner.

I continued on, as is my tendency, and decided to stop for gas at Ogallala, NE, where the tall signs tooted $3.04 a gallon. I pulled up to the fanciest of the stations around that exit and found the price was actually $3.74 per gallon. Don't know what the problem was but that ain't right. Collusion, I suspected. Well, I was too fed up to care and filled it anyway. Just for curiosity's sake I went over to another station: same deal with the price difference. Next, I slipped over to the Taco John's there, which was drive-thru only because of a sign on the door saying "short staff" - though I suspected there were no height requirements to work there.

And I continued on, soon realizing that I would not get all the way home by tonight - unless I was willing to drive in the dark several hours. The route I planned to take not being familiar to me, I chose to stop in North Platte for the night. The next morning I continued on, turned south at York to enter Kansas, and made my way to Concordia where I stopped for gas and lunch. More hassles at the pump; I'm supposed to know exactly how much gas I will put into the tank so I can pay in advance rather than swiping my card at the pump? Ridiculous. I guessed low and got $20's worth, which miraculously got me home. I also went to the Taco John's down the street - which was the worst of all of them I stopped at, measuring the condition of the place, the service, and the quality of the food.

Driving on, I encountered more of the orange-barrel curse, plus a few jerks driving aggressively along the gauntlet, cutting me off at one point to get in line ahead of me, including a well-placed finger to indicate their undying love. Mindfulness, baby, mindfulness! And soon I recognized the wonderful exits of Salina, KS, which meant I only had a couple more hours to go. I breathed easy, enjoying the sunny afternoon as I arrived home. I collected a big batch of mail from the box and ordered pizza delivery for dinner, believing I had definitely earned it.

NEXT: The trip is finished so I will shift over to the launch of FLU SEASON 3: DAWN OF THE DAUGHTERS, the conclusion to my pandemic trilogy on September 1, 2023.

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(C) Copyright 2010-2023 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

On The Road Again - 6

My Summer Road Trip, part 6

I wasn't planning to visit Yellowstone National Park on this trip. However, once I got my Senior Lifetime Member card, the parks' the limit! I knew Yellowstone was near Bozeman, me being a map geek, so it seemed like something I should do, especially as I had begun sending selfies to my cousin by way of boasting about the many places I was visiting. A shot of me at Old Faithful would only add to my cousin's aggravation.

But first an oil change! Feeling a bit dry in the first leg of my travel, I thought I'd better get loaded up for my next adventure. So, first thing in the morning, I waited my turn at the Jiffy Lube in Bozeman, arriving before they opened but still only third in line on a Saturday.

Then I hit the road, driving south into the mountains, along the river, with a short stop at Big Sky to see what all the fuss was about (ski resort town), then creeping into the borders of the park as the highway went. Finally I arrived at the town of West Yellowstone where I met the tourists at the intersection of souvenir shops and amusements. The line to enter the park wasn't too bad - early in the season, recently opened - and I could use the member card line to speed past many of the folks who hadn't planned ahead. I had no particular agenda; indeed, if not for my Senior Lifetime Member card, I would feel obligated to make full use of my time in the park just to get my money's worth of the entrance fee.

For those of you who do not know, Yellowstone is the largest of the national parks and covers a huge area, mostly in northwest Wyoming but partly in Montana on the north and west sides and a little of Idaho on the southwest side. The whole thing sits over the hot spot of an ancient volcano. Hence, all the geysers and other geothermal activity. In fact, geologists are expecting it to erupt again rather soon. 

Trivia: I used the coming eruption as a point in my futuristic dragon-heavy epic fantasy novel; the effects of the blast were felt as far away as the future remnants of Pittsburgh, PA, drying up the Ohio River and reshaping the landscape of the story - 8000 years later.

But I digress....

I had my map and I had my plan: get a selfie at Old Faithful to send to my cousin. So I followed the line of cars, moving at a steady clip, into the park. At times it didn't so much resemble a park as a wilderness. Plenty of forest and meadow with lots of elk out showing off. Fishermen along the stream. Finally arriving at a big intersection, I determined that everyone in the park today would be converging on Old Faithful, so I made a command decision to go the other way. That other way sent me north, ultimately to the north entrance and homeward. But I still had quite a way to go in miles - and dramatic mountain scenery I did not anticipate.

One reason I didn't plan to visit Yellowstone was because I had visited it as a boy on a family vacation trip. We did stop and see Old Faithful erupt then. For a young geologist wannabe, it was impressive. We waited for a second eruption. I couldn't remember exactly what our route was back then but as I drove north toward Mammoth Hot Springs, the resort town at the north end of the park, I didn't seem to remember seeing the area previously. At the end of the day, I was glad I visited the park again.

Glancing at my official park map, handed over gleefully to me by the pretty park officer at the entrance, her hair tied back in a tight bun, smiling at the presentation of my Senior Lifetime Member card, I noted the places to stop and see something. I needed a place that would scream "Yellowstone" so my cousin would be further annoyed. I considered stops here and there as I followed the other vehicles. There were places to pull over and others stopped, but some spots did not have (in my humble estimation) an easy in and out compared to the relative suitability of the location for photography (i.e., worth the stop?), so I drove on. I decided my best chance to get a good selfie with a background that would shout "Yellowstone" was what they called the geyser basin. A multicolored "hot pot" was the famous subject there.

I pulled into the parking lot, hit the lavatory, and hiked down the trail to get the view of, yes, a basin full of spouting vents. A vast field (definitely not a grassy field!), like a desert. With gas. I've always been sensitive to sulfur (Hawaii was a smelly experience for me.) so I cringed at the families taking their babies and toddlers in buggies down the trail. I could barely stand it long enough to take a few pictures. Then I returned to the gift shop and bought another, better map and a water bottle - a Montana brand which were in aluminum cans.

Continuing along the steep mountain roads, I eventually arrived at Mammoth Hot Springs. The grounds around the rustic hotel and shops were spotted with very tall elk making their way at a leisurely pace over to munching patches further afield. Everyone drove slowly to let them pass. I took a wrong turn trying to continue north and found myself instead heading out east to the northeast entrance, which would be much too far in the wrong direction. So, after a couple miles, I found a spot to make a U-turn and head back the way I came. 

As I approached Mammoth Hot Springs again, I had to stop for a huge mama elk who paraded onto the roadway where she paused as if playing crossing guard. Then, after checking me out, making sure I'd come to a complete stop, she glanced back over her shoulder and out from the brush bounded a little elk kid, as cute as could be! Both continued across the road and disappeared into the brush. There were other elk nearby that I managed to get pictures of, being stopped to let mama and child pass.

Then the real adventure began! The road continued north, but it began twisting and turning to hug the mountainsides and I was forced to view dramatic scenes of sharp drops and rugged slopes. There were few places to stop for pictures but one I did pause at was so crowded that many cars came close to bumping into each other as they jockeyed for parking spots. Otherwise, I thought it best to focus on driving the challenging road rather than trying to also snap a photo. Thus, I don't have a lot of pictures of that scenery.

The route winding down from the heights to the town of Gardiner, the village at the north entrance to the park, was quite grand, despite the gathering clouds which darkened the view. Arriving at the village after too many switchbacks and steering wheel clenching near-wipeouts, foot on the brakes, more elk greeted me. 

I came to the famous Roosevelt Arch where too many folks huddled to take their turns getting pictures; I slowly drove through, making them wait. I had to stop behind a car at the only stop light in the village and was about to honk for them to go on when suddenly I saw the elk strolling past in front of that car...and on to the souvenir shops lined up there, no doubt wanting a t-shirt. The elk seemed quite unimpressed with us mere humans.

I exited the park as the clouds darkened and drizzle fell. The road north to Livingston was less mountainous than the highway going south from Bozeman, but 

it had its own special scenery: grassy valleys and a snaking river, some patches of bare rock on the bordering mountains. From Livingston, I turned onto I-90 again and headed home to Bozeman. Dinner was at Taco John's.

NEXT: Three Forks & the Great Falls

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(C) Copyright 2010-2023 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

On The Road Again - 5

My Summer Road Trip, part 5

I didn't actually throw a dart at a map to decide where to go. I had a plan. After visiting three minor destinations (Cedar Falls, Waldorf College, Devil's Gulch), I drove on to visit three major destinations (Badlands National Park, Mt. Rushmore, Devil's Tower). After leaving Sheridan, WY, with a stop at the Little Bighorn Battlefield memorial and a detour through Billings, MT, I continued west on the orange-barreled I-90 to my next destination: Bozeman.

On the way to Bozeman I pulled into the only rest stop along the route (near Big Timber), with mountains rising on my left along the Wyoming-Montana border and pastoral hills to my right, and the darkening sky ahead of me as storm clouds billowed over the mountains to the west. The rest stop was surprisingly crowded with vacationers but I continued on.

As scenic as the route was, I couldn't take any good pictures. The shaking of the car, the dirty windows, rain, and my speed prevented quality photography. Later, as I drove up and down narrow and curving mountain roads, I needed to focus of the road as much as I would've wished to take a dramatic shot. Seldom was there a place to pull over. Even when there were pullouts in the national parks I didn't want to stop at every one for a picture. So you get what you get here; I have the full pictures locked in my mind's eyes.

As I drove I was reminded of an episode from my youth. In one childhood road trip with my parents, we stopped at the small town of Livingston (just east of Bozeman) because my father wanted to visit a certain fly fishing supply store he'd read about in a fishing magazine. He wanted to get all the materials for making fishing flies (lures) and have me make some for him to use. I suppose he thought it would be cheaper than buying a ready-made lure. But I was the creative type and constructed all kinds of "flies" according to my whims, not matching flies based on actual insects that fish leap at. I used up all the materials and my father never caught any fish with the flies I made. 

Why Bozeman? Besides being an excellent base for exploring the 100 miles in every direction, I'd gained an interest in the town because of a friend moving there (from Canada) and posting about her new life there over the past couple of years. It is a scenic place: forested mountains on all sides with grassy valleys sprinkled with cattle, and featuring Montana State University. I mentioned to my artist friend, who has designed many of my book covers, that I would be driving up there. She said she was going to Europe at that time but I could stay in her family's house. She gave me the door code but I politely declined, afraid of messing it up, and opted for a hotel by the I-90 exit.

The rain I met driving west to Bozeman intensified as I arrived and I struggled through the deluge, checking in and then going out for something to eat - all while everyone was heading home. I knew from maps there was a Barnes &Noble bookstore at a mall on the west end of town. I made my way there through a dark, rainy, rush hour on streets I only knew vaguely from what I remembered from the Google map on my phone. But I made it: dashed inside, got a hot coffee and an apple tart, then gathered some maps and browsed the shelves as usual, before returning back through the town to my hotel. With the rain continuing into the night all I could do was study my maps and plan my three days there.

The next day was much better: sunny and cool. First, I went to the Montana State campus and toured it almost like I was a prospective MSU parent. As is my quirk, I went through the library, hit the bookstore in the student union, checked out their selection of English textbooks and got a university logo t-shirt (Bobcats). 

Next, I drove around the town and the area, dodging more orange barrels, and noted what my friend had complained about: a cowboy town that grew a university was now a hipster community where many people flocked, expecting a paradise for ski bums and the freedom-loving camper crowd. (Wait until winter!) The expanding "suburbs" appeared rather Disneyesque as carefully planned neighborhoods, with a patina of artificiality that made you wonder if cameras were monitoring your every move. There seemed little of the rustic and country left outside the "old town" blocks. 

Indeed, apartment complexes sprouted everywhere, some yet under construction, hurrying to house the influx of new residents, far beyond just making more student housing. It wasn't unattractive, but I could understand how the locals would take the developments as a destruction of their traditional home. Honestly, I wouldn't mind living there, could wear cowboy boots and cowboy hat and speak with a country drawl.

When I travel, I like to imagine living in the place, seeing how life would be were I to be a full-time resident. I did that in Bozeman. I even shopped at Walmart, rubbing shoulders with the locals, much to their chagrin. But I had to be honest with myself: if I were a full-time resident, at any location, I'm likely to spend most of my time indoors, writing and reading, and only go out for errands - and that would be the only time I enjoyed the great outdoors. Now I'm no longer the great adventurer, ready to hike anywhere my whims lead me.

What else to do? I thought through my next novel as I drove, then typed notes in my hotel room. I watched TV. I downloaded pictures from my phone and my camera. I thought I'd seen enough of Bozeman. However, I realized that, using Bozeman as a base, I could visit Yellowstone National Park...because it was right there, 90 minutes south through the mountains, plus I already had my Senior Lifetime Member card.

NEXT: Yellowstone National Park

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(C) Copyright 2010-2023 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.