US Travel Diary 1

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MAGIC MOMENTS IN MINNESOTA

(Sorry for the bad alliteration!)
( March 6, 2001)
We didn’t make it to Jamaica in the Spring Break as it was too short of a notice to book quickly and
cheaply, but this may yet happen! Anyway, Minnesota is a great place to spend our current vacation
(sorry Australia, but yes I am on vacation even although Jessie and Raymond being in a different
school district are not until the end of the month).
Minnesota is a great place to live, and we have settled in comfortably. I thought that I might try in my
limited way to give everybody some insight in what it is like to live here from day to day.
The biggest and best impression is that of the people here! We have made so many special, helpful
friends in the neighbourhood and at the different schools. The ordinary folks who we meet from day
to day are generally just so friendly and welcoming. They are like Australians, if not friendlier!
Americans may know little about Australia, but I think many seem to be in love with the idea of
Australia and Australians, and are genuinely interested in us. They are very welcoming and one is
getting a little tired sometimes of repeating the same explanation of how we have come to be here!
Living in the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and Saint Paul is special.
The Twin Cities claim to be 2.3 million people total, but this seems to be counting all the suburbs.
The cities are a far cozier size than this.
Minneapolis is a clean and well-organised city with a wonderful system of skyways or glassed in
walkways that join the entire central business district above the streets and out of the winter weather.
There are nice walks along the Mississippi River in Minneapolis around Saint Anthony’s Falls where
the city was founded. To drive around the suburbs of Minneapolis is so easy. The freeway system is
wonderful, and so easy to navigate running generally north south or east west by numbers and blocks.
The various suburbs are small, fairly self contained with interesting individual attributes such as great
theatres in Hopkins, restaurants in other areas and so on. Many of the areas are wonderful, such as
Hyland Park in Bloomington, with its gigantic mansions overlooking the most beautiful lakes.
Saint Paul is the capital city of Minnesota and in some ways even more impressive than Minneapolis.
Saint Paul is beautiful. You can walk it in an hour or so and it makes Canberra look like a large
metropolis! It is so accessible with its skyway system too, but also its well-laid out streets at ground
level. It is a city of theatres, restaurants and wonderful public spaces. The Science Museum and
Minnesota History Museum are both impressive. We joined the former with a reasonable family
membership, which enables us to see the most amazing exhibits. Films are also shown such as one
currently all about wolves. Wonderful.
Most impressive in St Paul, however are the two buildings that dominate the higher parts of the city:
the Cathedral and the Capitol. We parked the car near the Cathedral, were we two weekends ago
attended a Brass and Choir Concert performed by the University of Minnesota, who is celebrating
their 150th anniversary and walked to the History Museum. Just our luck, the exhibits are closed on
Mondays and the people who gathered in the building, where Social workers preparing their march to
the Capitol to protest against the funding cuts.- Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?
So we went ahead of them to visit the Capitol. Inside the building we met a few more small groups,
one called, “moms, who walk for millions” and another wearing yellow buttons saying, “we care for
education”, all delivering letters and hanging around Governor Jesse Ventura’s office in the hope to
meet him. Unfortunately he wasn’t in.
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The St Paul Cathedral is a magnificent domed structure finished in 1912 and is a copy of St Peters in
Rome. It looks something like a white wedding cake but whilst being grand and beautiful it is quite
restrained and not over-ornate. The Capitol building houses the state legislature (the Minnesota
Congress of Senate and House of Representatives). It seems roughly the same age, size and style as
the Victorian Parliament House, but I think in one way more impressive, as unlike the Victorian
Parliament. Here the completed and magnificent dome which was never finished on our Parliament at
home. The colour of the Minnesota Capitol building is an impressive light gray and it is beautifully
proportioned, high on a hill overlooking the city. We observed some debates and were able to actually
enter the governor’s office and admire the astonishing collection of paintings.
The suburb of Bloomington, where we live, is a comfortable and quite well to do middle class suburb.
The snows now have abated although the temperature is still seldom above freezing, but we are
moving towards spring. The fishing huts on the frozen lakes for the ice fishing through a hole in the
ice have had to be removed. Sometimes when the temperature gets above freezing the snow begins to
melt, puddle and then refreeze. This will be happening more often now as spring approaches,
although there will probably be more snow coming in the meantime as we warm up! Then out with
the snow-blower again. Our house is still covered with its blanket of snow at this time. It really is
beautiful as we awake to fresh rabbit tracks at the back of the house, or our resident squirrels
scampering in the snow. We know spring is around the corner by the increased bird life. The cute
little Chickadees, a local species are feeding at the bird feeder.
Our house is cozy and warm and the kids rug up against the weather on the way to school in the
“Yellow peril” busses, and we have learnt to live with the weather. It really isn’t a problem after
awhile, although too much exposure to central heating tends to crack your lips and dry you out if you
don’t remedy this.
The Twin Cities get the last of the Arctic weather in a big “V” that comes down into the Midwest
from the North Pole. Our house in Xylon Road South, Bloomington, Minnesota is actually right at the
very bottom apex of this climatic “V”, as the neighbour’s house over the road is actually warmer. Our
climate tends to have more similarity with Alaska or the Yukon than with our latitudes, although the
Twin Cities lie further north than 70 percent of the population of Canada! We are cold!
Australians will find such weather difficult to contemplate. The Celsius and Fahrenheit scale intersect
only once at minus 40 degrees. The coldest recorded temperature ever in Australia was minus 26
degrees Celsius at Charlotte’s Pass in the Australian Alps. This is about minus 7 degrees Fahrenheit.
Currently in Minnesota we are sitting around freezing (32 degrees F, 0 degrees C), but we have had
several nights and days where it was into the negative Fahrenheit with wind chills approaching minus
40 or even more. One morning a few weeks ago they talked of minus 20 F and a wind chill of minus
60 F though this was an extreme.
This year a couple of toddlers, one 18 month and the other 2 years (two separate incidents) wandered
out of the back doors of their respective houses and were clinically dead when found not so much
later. The 18 month one recovered with frostbite and the other ended up in a coma. Terrible. But
mostly people cope, although energy use is very high here indeed.
BUT the spin off is the most picturesque countryside blanketed in snow. It is really beautiful.
So far, what we have seen of the hinterland around the Twin Cities is equally impressive, and there is
plenty to see. We have had a few nice drives into the countryside. Some highlights are places like
Fort Snelling on the junction of the Mississippi and Minnesota rivers, the first fort going back to the
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1840s and from where Minnesota dispatched its soldiers to the Civil War. Also there is the Mystic
Lake Indian Reservation with a world class casino run by the Dakota, Sioux and Ojibway Indians.
The Indian gift shop is owned and run by a local white person, who not only buys and sells the
beautiful handcraft from the local Indians but also from salespeople, who are travelling around the
States and Canada to buy the craft from other Indian tribes.
For me the highlights are just the various sights and sounds of the countryside. The little and not so
little country towns with names like Cologne, Hamburg, New Germany, New Ulm, and, would you
believe Glencoe and Hutchinson(the odd Scot being here too). These towns despite their colourful
origins look fairly identical. Some how they have industry and make a living. The names indicate the
ethnic origins of the early settlers. Minnesota claims Scandinavian heritage but this is misleading it is
majority German, as are Wisconsin, Nebraska, the Dakotas and other areas around here. This is not
even second to English settlers, although they and the Scots etc were here as co-existing minority
groups. The US really is a fascinating melting pot similar to Australia but more so by a factor of ten.
Driving back through the white countryside, we see deer, snowmobiles and once something straight
out of Jack London, a fellow exercising his dog team: a sled with eight wonderful dogs. We stopped,
chatted, and Jessie got a ride on the sled for a couple of miles. Just wonderful the grin on her face was
something to behold.
The Funny Ways of the Yanks.

You might remember my section of American funnies from last time! I’ll repeat these for those who
missed out:-
“Bananas in Pyjamas” sold here and spelt “Bananas in Pajamas”. When I told the kids that I would
give them new grades once a fortnight, blank looks and they had no idea what I was talking about!
The word “fortnight” is nearly unknown. And what the heck is a “guacamole” or something like that?
It’s an avocado! And I discovered that harbours all have “U’s” in them on the Canadian side of Lake
Superior and have lost them this side. They have “zeds” and not “zees” in Canada too. I think adverbs
and adjectives are nearly extinct here.
Anyway, some new ones.

Why isn’t “color” a homophone for “collar”? And why is “famous” not spelled “famos” here? If
Mum is spelt “Mom”, then why isn’t Bum spelt “Bom” or “Bomb”? Do you have a bum or a bom? I
better not go too far down that track! Spelling “reform” is less logical than the illogical English it
proports to improve.
Bring back traditional spelling I say (whispering it inaudibly here)!! I’ll keep working on it over here,
and by the time we leave at the end of the year, this should be “in the bag” and the whole quarter of a
billion people will have changed back. Not!
Would you believe at present the State Legislature here is debating whether it would issue permits for
individuals to carry concealed handguns. Particularly if you have had a conviction for a drink driving
offence, are you liberties infringed if you are denied the right to carry a concealed handgun on that
basis. This is seriously being discussed even although there has been yet another school shooting in
California.
We are still ever amazed with food shopping in the US and the things that you can and cannot find.
Daggi doesn’t agree, but the kids and I are missing real Aussie meat pies of the Four and Twenty
variety. In spite of being the home of junk food, anything like this is unknown here. You can’t even
buy plain pastry to make your own pies although you can buy scores of sweet confectionery type
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doughs for desserts. I think if someone had the capital to open a real pie shop here, it would end
up being a chain and making this person a fortune.
But what can you buy! Some truly amazing and bizarre stuff! You can buy cheese in spray cans; eggs
minus shells in cardboard tetra packs; whipped cream that looks like melted marshmallows in
margarine-type containers; spreadable cheese that looks and tastes like spackfiller; potatoes in various
of guises (hash browns, French fried, mashed etc) and sugar, salt, offal and chicken bits in hundreds
of clever disguises. Much of these seem to be long life or full of preservatives and if not eaten, would
remain totally useable well into the next millenium..
Now I mustn’t be negative. The above should be seen purely as anthropological interest. Eating such
food is akin to eating camels eyes in the Middle East (which is probably more nutritious but not less
revolting). It in no way detracts from all the positive and wonderful things that I have mentioned
above. We can buy real food here too.
So far so good. We have had a wonderful time in the USA, however are beginning to look forward to
spring and summer, and to travel and see some more of this wonderful country. Our difficulty will be
that because it is so diverse, what parts we shall have to be content with not seeing this time.
We are having the time of our lives!! It is a pity we have to work occasionally.
All for this installment.
Rowan et al
MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota II
(ON CANADA GEESE etc)
(17 April, 2001 or 17-04-01… day, month, year)
Hello again!
It’s over a month since my last long epistle.
Thank goodness spring is sort of here, nearly! I hope that it is not a false start. It still reverts to
freezing quite often. We can actually get outside and do some walking in the neighbourhood. Quite
miraculously the crocus and other plants are sticking their heads up for the short growing season. The
squirrels or rabbits that are now very active are nibbling the hyacinths. The beautiful cardinal birds
and chickadees are eating from our bird feeders.
The Canada geese have come back, and are a wonderful sight for sore eyes. They really are majestic
creatures. A flight of half a dozen flew over the house the other day and they call to one-another in
flight, as if to say “keep up”, “stay in line” or “don’t pass me, I’m the leader”. They land on all the
thawed lakes and ponds, and wander the school grounds as well! Magic!
School is still pedestrian and very difficult to get enthusiastic about (what’s new?). It is a necessary
burden enabling a different perspective on the US. Most of the kids remain good if a little
uninspiring. The subject matter is difficult to get enthused about, but I continue to try!! I realise now
that they are chronologically a year behind Aussie students. My Grade 9s are the same age as
Australian Year 10s. I think the real highlight is most of the American staff I have met in my few
months here. They are friendly, thoroughly professional, very helpful and welcoming!
The real bonus has been how successful our “new” “Recreation Vehicle” (RV) is. Remember it is a
1978 (older than me!) 360 cubic inch (approx. 6 litre) V8 23 footer Dodge (perhaps 10 MPG!!). It has
done “only” 80 odd K miles, new “this” and “that” and had been thoroughly refitted inside two years
ago. It is wonderfully comfortable, with a three-way fridge, a Coleman gas furnace, hot water,
stove/oven and microwave, toilet, bath/shower and could sleep six etc. It is very well designed.
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Anyway, we thoroughly tested the RV well and truly on the Easter weekend. You wouldn’t
believe that the School District of Prior Lake-Savage decided that teachers had to come to school on
Good Friday for conferences, but on Saturday we took off! We began the trip with our Australian
friends Merrill and her daughter Jessica. Merrill is another exchange teachers here, who is staying in
Golden Valley 20-min. drive from us.
On the Saturday we travelled south to the magnificent bluff country of the Mississippi. Near the town
of Harmony we encountered the Amish. We had a great conversation with a wonderful older Amish
lady selling wares on the roadside from her black sulkey (baked pies, preserves and magnificent
patchworks). She had eleven children and seven grandchildren and a fascinating lifestyle.
From there we travelled over the border to Iowa (“Idiots Only Walking Around” as the Minnesotans
call them) but a quite different and very interesting place indeed. We went from there into Wisconsin
to La Crosse and other interesting towns on the Mississippi. Merrill and Jessica then returned to
Minneapolis and we ended up camping at a beautiful town very like Daylesford called Lanesboro.
Lanesboro was apparently a favourite haunt of King Hussein of Jordan when he was attending the
famous Mayo Clinic in nearby Rochester for chemotherapy. His entourage would travel down there
and check out the little gift shops, and the locals wouldn't “turn a hair!”
We met some great people from Winona (as in Winona Rider) in the camping ground and are invited
to their daughter’s place next weekend in St.Paul for an international beer party!
Anyway, the following day was the real test! Predictably the old electrics (the battery died) AND we
got a slow flat! We had to beg numerous jump starts to get the vehicle to Rochester where we had it
repaired. That is ALL the bad luck that we shall have with the vehicle (hopefully).
From Rochester we went through some wonderful state parks and back to the Mississippi and
Winona. Here we stayed and had to use the furnace on the RV as it was such a cold night. We
awakened to snow, did some walking in the forest and had some very icy travelling conditions as we
travelled north along the Mississippi towards the Twin Cities. Along the way we stopped at the
beautiful and historic town of Red Wing on the Mississippi. It is a fascinating place, full of history
and where the Red Wing shoe factory is based. I invested in two pairs of shoes!
Spring of course brings with it the snow thaw, which has brought major flooding this year. The rivers
are like an Inland Sea, and I had to do a major detour miles to get to work this morning. Many town
bridges such as Wabasha of “Grumpier Old Men” fame are under water. People have drowned and
there is a major civil emergency in many areas with sandbagging and constructing levies.
Living in the US remains varied, rich and very interesting: the ethnic mix and the famous theatres,
thespians and movie actors that are part of the everyday scene even here in the Twin Cities. We saw
Patrick Stewart at the theatre the other day.
I am ever struck with the underlying similarities between Aussies and Yanks in most important ways.
Australia is really far more fortunate in almost every respect. I really think that this hinges on our
relative population size. Our standard of living at home is generally much better because we have
only twenty million people sharing our continent. My American friends might find this a little hard to
understand but it really isn’t, as it is a function of all our climatic zones (“a nation for a continent”)
and our small population. Our essential commodities are very much more processed in the US than in
Australia. They are from twice to four time more expensive here and no where near as fresh or natural
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(fruit, meat, dairy). Heating is twice the cost. Gasoline/Petrol is a little cheaper here (about
10cents Aus. per litre cheaper)

Why isn’t “color” pronounced “collar”? (Remember “Mom” and “Bom/Bum” from last time). There
is a restaurant here called “Famous Dave’s”. Why isn’t it called “Famos Dave’s”? That would be
more logical if US spelling was consistent. And if “ass” means “arse” here, what is a donkey? That
would be more logical with their strange variants on Oxford English. Noah Webster has a lot to
answer for!
Also rather irritating is the American habit of, unlike EVERY other country on earth, putting the
month (illogically) before the day. Illogically in that it is MONTH, DAY and YEAR rather than day,
month, year. Apparently our Panetti friends will be in the NT etc from 4 th of July to the 4th of
December or something (or was that the 7th of April to the 12th of April!?)
And as I sit here typing the TV news is interviewing a conservative old fellow about fighting the
floods going by the amazing name of Randy Eddy. We nearly peed ourselves but the Americans don’t
know any difference!
Rowan et al
MAGIC MOMENTS IN MINNESOTA 111

(14 May, 2001)
Just a short “MM in MN” #3 for the month of May to keep pace with Dave’s wonderfully informative
“Down Under Times”. I think our work-a-day life recently has not been as interesting as, what the
Panetti’s have been up to in the Red Centre and Tasmania.
We of course are champing at the bit for the up coming summer break in about three weeks. Then we
shall be OFF!! I shall try to keep up some correspondence using Internet cafes around the country to
send pictures and words. I shall borrow Hidden Oaks’ digital camera if they let me. Our plans are
very ambitious. To head south down the Mississippi Valley to New Orleans; Alabama; Orlando
Florida for Disney World; Savannah; Charleston and all the interesting Southern places. West
Virginia, Virginia, the Shenandoah Valley and Appalachians; Washington and then as far north as we
can make it to be back in Bloomington for the 4th of July. We have to try to be back to celebrate it
with all our friends here. Notably of the Ahern’s new boat on the beautiful Lake Minnetonka (now
thawed out and an absolute picture) It’ll be a tall order to do all this and get back in time!
After this, we shall head north into Canada; then west to the Rockies; Banff; BC et al and south again
to Yellowstone etc etc and home from there on Route 66 or some such. It’ll be all not over-planned
and as we find the adventure unraveling!
I shouldn’t complain too much about the work at this stage, as it has now settled down to quite a nice
routine, and there is not long to go. The kids, by and large continue to be good and “engageable”. The
staff remains great.
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We’ve done great things every weekend and often through the week! Far more in fact than we do at
home in Australia and more than most Minnesotans seem to do themselves! My colleagues at school
are constantly amazed at what we get up to. Some highlights!
After our Easter Saga, we went with Mary and Alan Poulsen and Merrill and Jessica Smead to Saint
Anthony’s Falls, Como Park and to a Jazz Performance. After that to dinner in the Mexican quarter of
St Paul. The weekend after this, there were again several things on, and we had to pick! We visited
the Cinco De Maya (5 of May) Festival in South Saint Paul. This was amazing. It is the big Mexican
national celebration second only to their Independence Day in September. Parades; Maruichi bands,
fun and frivolity. After this we went on to the Festival of the Nations.
The following Thursday we scored two very expensive free tickets to the Minnesota State Orchestra
in Minneapolis from a colleague at work. I gave her a bottle of Australian wine (readily available
here) by way of thank you. The performance: “Puccini and Beyond” was wonderful. Daggi and I then
went to “Brit’s Pub” (an English style pub nearby) for a drink. What a magnificent time.
On Friday we had other neighbours who we had not yet met, Carol, Kent, and their delightful kids
Jacob and Jenny Mueller. Kent is a Saint Paul Policeman. I drank (uncharacteristically) rather too
much Scotch that night.
Then the weekend again, and what a weekend. The highlight was talking to Mum and Muzz in
Australia on the telephone on Saturday (US time) which was Sunday and Mothers’ Day in Australia.
It was wonderful, as we hadn’t actually spoken to one another for over three months since December.
They sounded wonderful. On the Sunday we saw the local Baseball heroes, the Minnesota “Twins’
trounce the Nebraska “Royals” at the Metrodome. We went with Paul Ahern, Jack, Diane and a
friend. Afterwards we were invited to Paul’s parent’s place on Lake Minnetonka for the evening
meal. A magnificent house in an idyllic location where we met and were made welcome by the rest of
the family. What a great night.
And next weekend there’s more! We meet with the other exchangees for a full weekend of fun and
frivolity. More on that then.
That’s roughly all the news for now.
Oooroo for now

Rowan etc.

Nothing on language this time, but rather the joke is on me. I had to speak as a favour to the District
School Superintendent to a very nice group of people in what was known as the Optimist’s Club at
Prior lake/Savage. These were mainly local business people. And was I sucked in! At the end, one
“wag” asked me: “And in what part of Australia is New Zealand?” I thought to myself, another
ignorant American who knows nothing of the world, but proceeded to gently begin explaining the
answer, trying hard to not be in any way condescending. It was all a cleverly laid “wind-up”, wasn’t
it, and the Americans laughed their heads off! This was priceless; clever and taught yours truly a bit
of a lesson.
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MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota IV
(or more correctly: “Amazing Adventures in America I”)
(Friday 15 June 2001)
G’day to all our family and friends!
We are finally on the road and it is the summer break (at last). And summer it really is with
temperatures in the nineties. Oh the places we’ve been and the things we’ve seen!
As I sit at the table in the RV typing this correspondence, we continue to head south. The RV is
behaving beautifully (touch wood).
We left Minnesota on Sunday 10 June passing into Iowa (quite boring, with the “rich and fruity”
smell of pig farms and miles of flat corn fields.) We stayed at a pleasant and well-appointed regional
park near Iowa City named F.W.Kent Park. This was the first of many regional or state parks. They
are all really good, and relatively cheaper than private or commercial RV parks. The state parks cost
around twelve to eighteen dollars a night.
Our second night out, we stayed at the Missouri Sate Park of Cuivre River.
We have tried to stick close to the “mighty Mississippi”, and seen some interesting little settlements
and beautiful scenery. Small town highlights include Hannibal (of Mark Twain fame), Louisiana, and
Ste Genevieve (an eighteenth century French settlement) all in Missouri (MO). A really close
encounter driving along the “all mighty” was, when we took a detour to Illinois visiting the very
pretty historical town of Elizah.
(By the way, as we drive, we’ve just entered Mississippi and seen our first orange-clad chain gang on
the side of the road! Talk about enlightened!! What’s got four eyes and can’t see!!? Maybe it can
now!)
Anyway, St Louis was a highlight of the mighty MO. It is a pleasant city of about 300,000. It actually
is a little reminiscent of Melbourne with its streets running in alternate directions. They have the
nearly 200 metre high archway that is the monument to the Western Expansion of the USA. (They
didn’t ask the Indians!) Anyway, it is a marvel, with Imax; a wonderful museum and a trolley to the
view at the top.
The state park outside St Louis appropriately called “Babler”, though very beautiful, unfortunately
had its camp site closed for up-grading, so we actually stayed at a very comfortable, if a little noisy,
truck stop that night on the way to Memphis, Tennessee.
Memphis was great, and at last the “real” South. It is a very interesting city, being full of history but
also quite “go-ahead” being a good example of the “New South”. Memphis is 70% Black (“African-
American”) but seems a very safe and harmonious city for the most part.
Memphis has interesting streetscapes and a cheap “trolley” (tram) system that we made use of. They
are actually old cable trams that have been electrified. We saw the Memphis pyramid (!) which is
their exhibition hall; walked colourful Beale Street (famous for the Blues). The history of the old
South is still commemorated where we walked, Confederate Park and Jefferson Davis Park. Jefferson
Davis of course was the only president of the Confederacy and as such being considered a traitor;
here he is still held to be a great patriot. The people are really friendly. The “new” south was well
represented by the National Civil Rights Museum in the Lorraine Motel where Martin Luther King
was assassinated in 1968. A very impressive exhibition indeed.
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Our day in Memphis would not have been complete without sitting in the palatial lobby of
the Peabody Hotel in Memphis and looking at the mallard ducks in their fountain in the lobby. Yes,
they are real ducks. Generations of these ducks since the 1920s have waddled in at 11-00 am to the
fountain and then toddled off again at 5-00pm. They were originally live decoys belonging to the
hotel manager, who placed them in the fountain after rather too much “Jimmy”, but have been so
popular with patrons that they have been cultivated with food and kindness ever since. When the
ducks are getting to big, they are swapped with young ones from a local duck farmer.
The State Park just outside Memphis, O.T.Fuller Park, wonderful. We of course passed Gracelands
but did not go in. This is rather a tourist trap and quite the “gilded cage”, surrounded by poor and
commercial areas. In a way it is amazing that he stayed in this poor area after reaching stardom.

Outside the Civil Rights Museum at the Lorraine Motel sat an attractive and obviously well educated
Black lady. She petitioned to boycott visiting the museum because of the misuse of the 5 million
dollars collected through entry fees and to rather spent the money lobbying & implementing tighter
gun laws. With doing so preventing some of the very violence exemplified by the death of Civil
Rights workers in the sixties. Daggi & Raymond showed solidarity with not visiting the museum.
When she found out that we were from Australia, she actually asked Daggi whether it was close to
London, half an hour or so away. Many Americans, whilst being so friendly, especially in the South,
remain desperately ignorant of the World. This must be an indictment of both the media and the
education systems here.
Rowan, Daggi, Raymond and Jessie.
MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota V

(or more correctly: “Amazing Adventures in America 2”)
(Monday 18 June 2001)
G’day Again!!
Here we sit with the air-conditioner running, watching the news on our little 12 volt TV, sipping a
cold beer from out RV ‘fridge, in the middle of the Louisiana Bayous! We are at Lake Fausse Pointe
State Park, complete with alligators! Louisiana is special and so far our favourite state, although all
the others we have visited have had their great attributes too. Today we went to the Lafayette public
library and got free Internet access to send our e-mails and pictures (I hope that the pics didn’t
constipate your systems! I only sent a relative FEW of those photos I have taken!).
We have travelled about one thousand miles in the last week since we left Minneapolis!
After leaving Memphis Mississippi, we headed south to Vicksburg. Vicksburg was one of the
decisive two battles in 1863 (the other, Gettysburg) where the Confederacy lost. At Vicksburg the
South lost control of the Mississippi. The town is picturesque and the battlefield where the Union laid
siege to the town for 57 days is beautifully kept with turn of the century monuments that really must
have employed all the stone masons in America. For me, driving through these grandiose monuments
to the nameless dead of the various states (Iowa, Georgia, Wisconsin, Minnesota etc etc) was very
reminiscent of the monuments to whole nations in the Great War two generations later.
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What an eye-opener! Talk about “ancient enmities” of Europe, they have been just as
strong here and this nation really has been washed with blood. It illustrated what I have come
strongly to believe, that the US is far more like Europe than they care to admit. USA is far more “Old
World” than a country like Australia.
We stayed that night at Grand Gulf State Military Park, the site of yet another battle.
From Vickburg and Grand Gulf, we followed many of the minor roads through Mississippi to the
south. Farming is mainly corn and cotton. Miles of sweetcorn on flat “delta” or more correctly, flood
plain land. Some of the small, mainly Negro towns seem desperately poor with run down buildings
and listless inhabitants. When we have had to ask directions however, the people couldn’t do enough
for us.
We followed the famous Natchez Trace a little way. This is the most picturesque and ancient trail
(track) from Natchez to Nashville. On the way we saw such highlights as the ruined plantation of
Windsor, and the still working plantation of Springfield. It had hundreds of slaves before the 1860s.
Mount Locust was another highlight, being now on the National Register. Here we met a direct
descendant of the plantation owner, who now was custodian for the state of Mississippi. He showed
us, amongst other things, where the slave cemetery was. Of course, he claimed that there was never
any deliberate cruelty! We also saw the 14th Century Indian Emerald Mound and finally made it to
Natchez with its many beautiful ante-bellum homes. That night we stayed in another beautiful state
park, the Natchez State Park.
Then Louisiana!
Just over the state line after leaving Mississippi, we visited the Louisiana State Prison at Angola. This
place is extraordinary and says much about the US. The nice lady in the museum/giftshop (yes, you
could buy T-shirts, cups & stubby/can holders) was at pains to tell us how enlightened the prison now
was. Yet this place is rather infamous for its brutality. It was used to breed (“farm”) slaves before the
Civil War. The photos I took from the front, after very friendly conversations with some of the guards
show the front of Death Row, where eightyfour men wait. The warden, named appropriately Warden
Cain, holds hands with prisoners when they receive their lethal injection (the electric chair is no
longer used). Under his reign five so far, the last one in 2000. Of the 5,000 odd inmates, 80% are
black. Being a Sunday outside the buses and cars lined up with relatives waiting to visit. Returning
from the visiting room with lovley crafts made inside.
Angola Prison is where “The farm”&“Dead Man Walking” were filmed. We missed Heath Ledger
and Billy Bob “Whatshisname” (the “Sling Blade” character) by literally a couple of weeks. They had
been filming “Outbreak”, or something or the other, there.
From Angola, we headed to the tidy little town of St Francisville; then the state capital of Baton
Rouge (“Red Stick”.. sounds much better in French!). It is a beautiful and modern city. From there
along an amazing freeway above the swamps (“bayous”) to the heart of Cajun Louisiana, Lafayette.
The Cajuns (or Arcadians) were French whom the British expelled from Nova Scotia after their
victory at the end of the Seven Years War (1745). They still speak a uniquely French accented
English and the old people speak their old variety of French. The street signs are bilingual. Cajun
cuisine is delicious. We tried some “gumbo” and various ways with catfish at Abbeville last night.
Tomorrow we leave the Cajun part of Louisiana and move on to New Orleans. We are really looking
forward to visit the French Quarter & of course the famous “Café du Monde”. Culinary delights await
us there too. However their’s is a different cuisine known as Creole, with French, Spanish, native
American and African influences.
11
My next installment will be all about New Orleans.
The Down Side…

J and R say my letters are too rosy, so hear are some “character building” contra stuff…
1. The exchange rate still sucks and is killing us.
2. The mozzies are diabolical, just like back home.
3. We are getting 9 miles to the (US) gallon in the RV and the petrol price is jumping all over the
place. We are paying anything between US$1.299 to 1.659 per gallon.
4. It’s hot & humid
5. We miss yez all!
6. And there has been a couple arguments, but nothing serious providing we remember who is in the
wrong!
Really, these things pale next to the great experience that we are all having.

And would you believe that public libraries in the USA such as Lafayette public library require armed
security guards. This is particularly sad I think. I can’t help wondering what books a highly literate
criminal might steal, or might he be after the money made through library fines. Maybe the guard is a
deterrent to people bringing back books late!
MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota VI

(Friday 22 June 2001)
NEW ORLEANS!!
What an absolute highlight!

We have had an amazing couple of days in this city. It is truly one of the world’s most interesting
places and is quite unlike any other American city we have seen.
We traveled from Cajun Country (Abbeville etc) along the by-ways through the bayou (swamp).
Because of the recent hurricane, it was sad to see all the road-kill on the highway. Creatures driven to
seek higher ground (alligators, raccoons, armadillos etc.). We finally arrived at a State Park close to
New Orleans. Not a great park although we got our washing done.….And the bugs! Australia has
nothing on the aggressive Louisiana insects, which well and truly put you at the bottom of the food
chain. Even their bush-flies and little ants bite. The locals call them “can’t see me-s”, as you only
know they are there after the painful event!
Then to New Orleans!

It is such an interesting and cosmopolitan city; with a large population of Creoles (French, Spanish,
Negro etc in the wonderful “melting pot” of miscegenation). The Creole cuisine is as interesting as
that of the Cajuns. New Orleans has large populations of Blacks; bohemians people with substance
problems, “gays” and conventional suburban Whites who seem to run a lot of the tourism.
Unconventional is the best term however for New Orleans and this is most refreshing after the “anal
retention” and homogeneity in much of the rest of the United States. It reminds me somewhat of Rio
12
de Janeiro, with its ethnic mix. Part atmosphere and Voodoo undercurrent. It is certainly more
like Rio than any other US city that we have seen so far.
We all had a great time. The panic merchants in the tourist guides etc. warned us about the high crime
rate here, however we didn’t see much evidence of it and at all times, felt safe. We parked the RV
near the stadium on Loyola Street the first day. We had been warned that vehicles sometimes get
totally stripped, so we picked a fairly public, although not fully secure, parking spot. It turned out
however that it was totally okay and our home-on-wheels was safe.
So we did all the tourist things and more. The French Quarter is amazing. It is perhaps something like
the Left Bank of Paris on “speed”. All the hustlers; the activity; the sights sounds and smells. We
started off at Cemetery No. 1 where the famous/infamous voodoo priestess Marie Labeau is buried.
The crypts are above ground as you see in Catholic countries in South America. We then had coffee
and beignets at Café Del Monde and explored the French Market, Jackson Square and Decatur Street
which took most of the day. We ate at an open-air restaurant with live jazz, and dined on “all you can
eat” shrimp (prawns) cooked in Creole sauce. Smaller than out prawns, but delicious. We had eight
large plates of prawns between the four of us and the band leader played “Waltzing Matilda” and
“shouted” drinks!
The following day we left our vehicle at the RV park and took the bus to the French Quarter. The
owners of the park talked about the wisdom of taking the return trip by taxi because of worries about
being mugged, but I doubt they themselves ever used the busses anyway. We ignored their advise
based on what turned out to be a sensible risk assessment and returned happily by bus, changing in
the rather run down and very euphemistically named “Elysian Fields”. No probs!
During the day we explored the wonderful galleries on Royal Avenue, and again were entertained by
an old gallery owner, a 72 year old Czechoslovakian who had been in the country for 40 years. He
fell in love with Daggi, and of course everyone seems to love Australians, so he stood us drinks. I
have my theory, however I don’t really know why, but I’ve heard said by Americans: “I never met an
Australian I didn’t like” at least half a dozen time since being here. My response usually is, “you
haven’t met some of the ones that I have!”
Anyway, then Bourbon Street (the main drag) which defies description. Whilst full of touts, sleaze
and most obviously a tourist trap, it has to rate as amongst the most interesting such places I have
seen. The photos will give you some idea of the place.
We had the most wonderful Creole food etc at the Café Verti, which was cheap and frequented by the
locals. As it was take-away only, we ate in a park and fought off the mosquitoes.
This morning everybody is making a slow start. I am typing this on the laptop to get ready to send
when next we get to a public library. Everybody is looking forward to reading your return e-mails. So
now we have to start heading north again and we are hopefully going to make Alabama and “To Kill
a Mockingbird” country (Monroeville) despite our late start!

Love and best wishes to all

13
MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota VII!
(Saturday 23 June 2001)
G’day All,
Still having a magic time.. Wish you were here and all that!
We are so busy driving and investigating, it’s been quite difficult to find a library and send the
various installments with regularity. So I am just storing them up on disks which we carry awaiting
any opportunity to send them! It took so long to send all the photos last time that I shall only send a
few of the best (some of you will be happy about that) and will just have to leave the rest until our
return.
We reluctantly left New Orleans, which was fabulous and certainly all it was “cracked up to be” and
headed out along the amazing causeways and followed the Mississippi Gulf of Mexico coast towards
Alabama. The coast is beautiful and quite highly developed, with all manner of kitsch casinos and
other developments, interspersed with beautiful and classic ante-bellum homes.
We stayed in a State Park next to partying rednecks from Louisiana that night. These people gave me
another understanding of why the Civil War happened here, and I know which side of the barricade
that I would be on!
Today we went into the little town of Monroeville, which was one of my “must does” before I left
Australia. I think Daggi and Jessie also found it quite interesting, as it was where Harper Lee lived
and what she based “To Kill a Mockingbird” on. Both Jessie and Daggi saw the play in Minneapolis.
Having read the book scores of times and having taught it for umpteen years, it was great to actually
see the place and trace some of the steps in the book. I took plenty of photos for teaching purposes.
Aficionados will understand that we actually saw the site of the Capote, Lee and Ewell houses;
travelled to “Old Sarum” and I photographed the Court House and surrounds. The Court House is
now a museum, where we chatted long to two dear old biddies who run it and couldn’t do enough for
us, coming all the way from Australia as we did. I spoke with Harper Lee’s cousin who runs the drug
store, and he gave me an autographed book. He reminded me of the other Australian who recently
become a local hero with a photographic exhibition, “In Search of Atticus Finch”. I found the whole
visit wonderful indeed.
Tonight we are in the very beautiful and well appointed Blue Springs State Park on the Alabama-
Georgia border. Tomorrow we shall try to make Savannah, which will be a long day of over 300
miles.
All are happy and well including our dear old RV.
(Sunday 24 June)
We have crossed to the east coast and arrived in Georgia, the last of the Thirteen original states.
Savannah at last and we are staying at McAllister Fort Historical Park. This was a famous
Confederate fort, now restored, that withheld Union bombardment and finally fell to General
Sherman in 1864 exposing Savannah to defeat. We shall explore tomorrow.
Randy and Chuck No. 1

We are gradually learning the various dialects of the United States, many of which do approximate a
type of English.
14
Whilst I admit the following conversation may not have actually occurred and may be a little
exaggerated, it may well have occurred in an apocryphal sort of way. I shall try to provide a
translation at the end. To our morethin-skinned American friends, please take no offence as this is
only meant in jest!
RANDY is a “person of color(colour)” or “African-American” (whatever that is), from the urban
North. He wears a bandana, and a back-to-front baseball cap as formal attire on check (cheque) day.
CHUCK is from the deep South, has no front teeth and drives a pickup (ute) with the Stars and Bars
(Confederate Battle Flag) on the hood (bonnet).
(with apologies to Jerry Springer)
RANDY: “Yo yo homie G!”

CHUCK: “Talk to the hand y’all. You don’t know me, ass-hol. Dude, get your hoochie ass ouda my
face!”.
RANDY: “’sup (or) wassup?”
CHUCK: “You call mah goyal frayand (girl friend) a ho?
RANDY: “I didn’t call yoh goyal frayand no ho! Get off of me bro!
CHUCK: “Mah Bad! Ah bin talkin like trailer trash! Ah bin goin now. Y’all come back now, y’hear.
RANDY: Yo bro. Gimme five.
CHUCK: “Good job!”
Exit stage left/stage right.
(please not that in the United States “chuck” does not mean vomit and “randy” has nothing to do with
sexual arousal)
Loosely translated, the conversation might go something like this:
RANDY: “Hello my friend/mate/bosom buddy/cobber/home chum/fellow gang member.”

CHUCK: “Don’t talk to me.. I don’t wish to make your acquaintance/enter into an interlocutor with
you, arse hole (fundamental orifice) (please delete expletive). Sir, kindly go away”.
RANDY: “Why, whatever is the matter/What aggrieves you?”
CHUCK: “Did you insinuate that my lady friend/paramour was a women of dubious virtue (whore)?
RANDY: “(denial of same minus double negatives). Please don’t impute my honour and my
gentlemanly virtue so, my friend.!
CHUCK: “I apologise/I am sorry/With obsequience/ I have been speaking as one challenges socio-
economically or as one lacking socio-economic or educational good fortune/an inhabitant of a
caravan park! Now I must bid you adieu but I hope that our paths will cross once more.
RANDY: Good bye my fraternal friend, and may I shake your hand?.
CHUCK: Well done is a rough translation, but please note that ‘good job’ is the term used by most
Americans in order to avoid any offence, proper discussion or dialectic, confrontation or litigation. It
is also used in order to refrain from critiscism of mediocre performance in order to promote false
expectations amongst those of limited talent (in the guise of “building self-esteem”)

Love and best wishes to all

15
MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota VIII!
(27 June 2001)
A Reply To Dave…
Whew! What a letter! I really do know something of the US political system Dave, and did not mean
to cause offence. What I really like about your letter is that it encourages the dialectic, and gives me a
little more understanding.
A couple of points..
I feel I am qualified to make comments on the US, and it would be a sad state of affairs if I could not.
No Dave, I am not “pushing your buttons” because the US is the biggest, best and brightest (Perhaps
it is, or maybe not!) Quite the contrary. The USA is only one country out of the fifty-odd countries
who I have been fortunate enough to travel too and I would hope that I was an intelligent observer (a
traveller not a tourist).
Receiving letters from other friends, they seem to be enjoying my commentary, and I would rather
not be muzzled for fear of offending over some small point or another. You will recall Dave, us
laughing at similar tongue-in-cheek comments made by the American author Bill Bryson about
Australia, and we took in a light-hearted vein, criticisms and all.
In the letter to which you refer, I was talking about criminal penalties, education and the media in
Mississippi only. I was not “hypergeneralising”, but commenting on the place visited. Please read my
correspondence a little more carefully Dave. Mississippi is making great improvement in recent times
from commentary on public radio and talking to the locals as we usually do on our travels, but many
in the South do remain in somewhat of a time-wharp. A Southerner gave me one definition of a red-
neck, which is someone who had three cars that don’t move and one home that does. He could laugh
at himself.
Anyway, I have asked in the past, and would really welcome considered observations on Australia by
you as an intelligent and interested outsider rather than you seeing some unjustified need to defend
the US against imagined wrongs committed by yours truly. I would find such comments of greater
interest and take them, I hope, open-mindedly. We shall certainly learn much more from this. As
“Rabbie” Burns, the Scots poet said better than I ever could:, “O that the giftie gie us, to see ourselves
as others see us.”
more “Amazing Adventures in America 5

(29 June 2001)
Thanks for all the correspondence!
We are now in Virginia!
We are still having a magic time.
Having left Monroeville Alabama, we travelled by backroads into Georgia. We try to avoid the mayor
interstate highways because they by-pass the interesting little towns, and acres of wonderful
sweetcorn, cotton, peanuts and even sugar further South. We stayed just south of Savannah at Fort
McAllister S.P. These are amazing civil war earthworks were built in vain, to defend Savannah from
Sherman’s Yankees in 1864. It’s interesting, the feeling here held by the locals, that the Confederacy
is still alive and well in people’s imagination and the “South Will Rise Again!” The Fort McAllister
16
State Park was so beautiful with its picturesque, Spanish moss draped trees and its cute little
alligators (pussies compared with Aussie salties!).
Savannah!
What a magic place. I am reading “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil”, a wonderful and
highly recommended novel about this jewel of a city (Raymond is getting into some rather harrowing
Ambrose Bierce Civil War stories & Daggi is reading Anne Butler’s “Weep For The Living”).
Instead of collecting “kitsch” souvenirs, we seem to be purchasing books from the areas we are
travelling through.
Savannah was spared General Sherman’s “scorched earth” vandalism, so preserves much of its
ancient (by New World standards) beauty. It is very English in a tropical way, with a wonderful
waterfront, and magnificent historic squares everywhere set in beautiful streets. Gems like a square
devoted to John Wesley and his American parish here, or Oglethorpe, the founder, or even the Royal
American Regiment who protected the settlement before the Revolution.
Then on to Charleston South Carolina. This is an even older settlement although not quite as
memorable as Savannah, also very interesting. It is still 75% Black and most of the slaves entered
America through this old port. We photographed Fort Sumter (where the Civil War began) and
wandered the streets and the market.
At this stage we had to make up our minds what was going to give. It was either heading inland to the
Blue Ridge Parkway in the Appalachians, or to follow the coast to Jamestown, Norfolk etc in
Virginia.
We decided on the latter, primarily because we will see other mountains (the Rockies) and because of
the need for some car repair (our brake master cylinder went). Murphy’s Law.. it had to happen
sometime! We ended up in the Cliffs of Neuse State Park in North Carolina (sounds like something
out of Monty Python but a really nice park).
This was our second real American bush camp after Carolina Beach, Cape Fear the previous night
(yes, the real Cape Fear from the book and movies (Roberts Mitcham and Di Nero)). These sorts of
campsites don’t provide electricity for our air-conditioning in the RV (we’ve got a bit soft) but we are
more than compensated in other ways, with wild deer, raccoons, scores of squirrels etc. Quite often
we get a long and interesting visit from one of the rangers who usually sits and chats with us for a
while about all and sundry.
The only give away that we were not in pristine wilderness were the occasional overhead flights of
USAF jet aeroplanes due to the many bases nearby. In some ways the whole coast northward from
here is a little like an armed camp, with so many bases from all the Defence Services.
Then on to Virginia, again by the backroads. Tobacco gradually took over as one of the main crops,
along with corn. We ended up at a most amazing coastal area, a little like the Gold Coast on speed,
called Virginia Beach. Miles and miles of interesting kitsch. Of course we couldn’t get
accommodation as it was the beginning of the weekend, so we had to continue to travel across
Chesapeake Sound, passing the famous Norfolk naval base with several gigantic aircraft carriers in
dock, Fort Langley and the twenty mile Narrows bridge across Chesapeake Bay. We finally found a
place to stay near Williamsburg in a private RV park with a pool and inflated charges. I think this
might bode a few more difficulties in getting a place to stay for a reasonable price as we move further
17
north. Oh well, we remain optimistic. Tomorrow, the Colonial Parkway to Williamsburg,
Jamestown, Yorktown etc. More to follow soon!

Bugs! As I mentioned before, American bugs are much worse than our creepy crawlies. In the South
they are called “No See ‘ems”. These are often the little ants that we get at home, but do they bite.
And you only know that they are there AFTER you have been bitten. I didn’t mention the mozzies
though. Down here, they show up on airforce radar screens!
Having walked into a little store in the backblocks, the lady of the store, an African American, asked
me, “Where y’all from?”. I answered, “the South.. way south and south of here.” Initially looking a
little puzzled, she twigged and said, “You’s from Down Under”. I answered yes and thanked her. She
then burst into uncontrolled laughter, which worried me, as I wondered whether my fly was undone
or something. I asked what the matter was and she said, “oh nothing, it’s just that you sound like the
‘Crocodile Man’ ”.
The Funny Ways of Daggi!.

And what about Daggi, asking the lady in McDonalds (yes, they have them here too) the other day
why she couldn’t upgrade a 99 cent double cheese burger to fries (she said “chips” to confuse even
more), and a coke for the advertised 79 cent upgrade. Talk about cheap, but she is great making the
money go as far as it possibly can.
After we left Maccas, Daggi noticed that there were two perfect loaves of bread on the edge of the
highway within about half a mile, that had obviously fallen from a truck. Typical, Daggi wanted to
stop to pick them up. How desperate can you be?. I finally promised that we would stop if we saw a
third one. Luckily we didn’t or I would have had to keep my word!
APOLOGIES TO OUR FRIENDS IN Minnesota!! NO WAY are we going to be able to make it back
by July 4, as some of you have said, there is just too much to see! We shall try to be home in
Bloomington ASAP after July 4.
(01 July 2001)
Sorry that you haven’t heard for a little while as we have been moocho busy and have not been able
to get to a public library to send our e-mails.
Virginia is just packed with interest. “Colonial Williamsburg” was wonderful. It is a recreation on site
with original buildings of the second capital of Virginia circa. 1750, restored by JD Rockerfellar from
the 1920s. Authenic in every detail, it is so extensive, it would take days to fully do justice to. We
even met Lord Corwallis’s troops who had time-warped there to a day in 1780 when they occupied
the town, (in the form of military re-inactors from Warwickshire in England.) Daggi spoke German
with some “Hessian” troops (actually German-speaking Americans playing dress-ups too and fighting
for the British!). My thought for them was, this time they might actually win which could be very
good for America, prevent a bloody Civil War 70 years later, and the debauchal of the last
presidential election! (just joking, my American friends)
From there we took the picturesque by-way called the Colonial Parkway to Yorktown and
Jamestown. Both areas very intereting and well-managed. Thence to Richmond via the James River
Plantations. That night we stayed in the beautiful Pocohontas State Park near Richmond. It celebrates
18
the Algonquin Indians who fought for the British against the French in the Seven Years War
(remember the novel “An Indian in the Cupboard”)
Then we followed General Lee’s retreat from Petersburg to Appomattox Courthouse where the South
finally surrendered in April 1865. So we have seen Fort Sumter in Charleston (The beginning in
1861) and now where the war ended. The places of interest on the road are cleverly explained. You
read the plaques but also tune into your car radio, where automatically a low powered radio signal is
broadcast from a transmitter on the spot explaining the feature. The whole thing is powered by a solar
cell. (In Australia such technology would not last ten minutes without being vandalised or stolen!) A
very interesting journey indeed although “the girls” glazed-over a bit! The US has too many
battlefields for their taste. Like Europe, this place is washed with blood from the past.
Tonight we again stay in a very nice State Park near Appomattox, and tomorrow we head to the Blue
Ridge Parkway and the Shenandoah Valley (with more battlefields!). We hope to be in Washington
DC for July 4, as something, I believe might happen there then for some reason!
Again apologies for not making it back to Minnesota in time. I shall finally try to e-mail this
tomorrow.
Oooroo for now
MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota IX!

(7 July 2001)
A belated HAPPY JULY 4 to our American friends, and thanks for all your replies to our E-mails
from all over the world!
We have now been on the road for four weeks and have probably done three thousand and odds
miles! We figure that all going well; it should be another eight days or so before we arrive back in
Minnesota! (hopefully!). I have just finished cataloguing all our photos of which I shall send a small
selection only! Again it is hard to keep up regular correspondence and to find time to get to a public
library to send the results.
Currently we are sitting in a private camp ground near the town of Intercourse (yes, really!),
Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. This is the main Amish area here and is a little touristed, but
nonetheless, very interesting. The Amish employ clever local circumspection when it comes to
modern conveniences. They drive sulkies, not cars, but can use generators for electricity if it is for
business purposes, and telephones likewise if they are not kept in the house. They seem to make a
“killing” from the tourists.
Oh, the adventures we’ve had to get here!

We left Appomattox and climbed over the famous Blue Ridge to the beautiful little town of
Lexington Virginia, where we saw among other things, the picturesque Lee Chapel at Washington
Lee University (the final resting place of Robert E Lee). We then followed the Blue Ridge Parkway
(built under FDR’s “New Deal”) into the Shenandoah National Park. Very interesting, with stories of
Stonewall Jackson’s campaigns and sightings of deer. US State Parks are very well organised but
quite crowded, especially on the weekends, with scores of locals in RVs and Wall-Mart or K-Mart
19
tents complete with pets. There are few overseas visitors, we figure because of the poor exchange
rate. They suffer somewhat from the big-city syndrome, and will rarely speak to you unless you
initiate the conversation.
From here we hot-footed near Washington DC and stayed in an idyllic county park, Burke Lake Park,
still in Virginia, to the south west of DC. To get there we passed through the Manassas/Bull Run
battlefield.
To go into Washington on July 4, we did as the locals and parked at the Franconia-Springfield Metro,
and took the train past the Pentagon, Arlington Cemetery etc to the Federal Triangle. Washington DC
is great! The city only has 400,000 people and in many ways reminded me of Canberra with its good
planning and neatness. It is beautifully designed with stately public buildings and a beautiful aspect.
Their museums are wonderful, but were very busy due to the holiday. We saw the various
Smithsonian museums (Fight and Space, American History and Natural History) and walked miles.
The Mall had special displays and events of interest. In our three days we saw all the usual sites,
Pennsylvania Avenue, the Capitol, White House, Lincoln Memorial, Jefferson Memorial, FDR
Memorial and the Washington Monument etc etc. All rather grandiose and impressive.
Most impressive was the fireworks display on July 4 between the Washington Monument and
Lincoln Memorial. It was literally nearly rained-out during the evening when we were deluged. An
estimated 500,000 people (and us) were drenched. Yet there was a break at about 9-10 PM just long
enough for it to go ahead. With no exaggeration it was the best fire-works display that we have ever
seen including the Millenium displays. The Americans don’t do things by half measures. It was truly
magic!
Then we left and what “fun” we had. Leaving the railway station at about eleven to drive back to the
State Park, Daggi (driving) noticed the temperature on the RV rise suddenly and immediately stopped
in the emergency lane on the freeway. Not only did we have had a broken fan belt, but also a flat. So I
contacted the AAA, who were no help and we waited on the freeway for five hours for a private (and
expensive) tow to a garage only two miles away where we slept in the car park until the following
morning. Waiting on the highway, friendly Virginia State Police Highway Patrol provided flares to
warn off traffic and kept a protecting eye on us. It took us most of the next day to recover!
On July 6 we spent most of the day in Washington, then set off in peak hour to leave DC. Although
this was our shortest day so far in terms of distance travelled, we saw three states (Virginia, Maryland
and Pennsylvania) and of course the District of Columbia. Maryland and Pennsylvania are beautiful
indeed, reminding one a little of the South Downs of England, and finally we had crossed the Mason-
Dixon Line and left the South behind. That night (last night) we ended up in another State Park in
Pennsylvania. We met our very first Australians on our sojourn who come from Geelong. They were
heading south to Washington from Canada etc, so we chatted for quite some time and swapped tips
and observations. It was good to speak Australian again!
US highways and freeways are fantastic. The county roads and interstates are brilliant and most
impressively and quite unlike Australia, almost free of litter. Civic mindedness is encouraged by the
clever scheme of getting individuals and companies to adopt a mile of highway. Their name appears
on a sign, and they keep the road clean of litter. There are also hefty fines of up to $1,000 for doing
the wrong thing (unlike our pussy $100-odd back home)
Today to Lancaster County via Gettysburg… Tomorrow, on to New York!
Washington DC, Gettysburg, the American Ideal and Myth-making

20
My visit to Gettysburg crystallised some of my thoughts on the United States and possibly explains
some of the more negative foreign perceptions of America. It brought into focus for me, many of our
experiences in the United States over the last few months. The following observations might also be
said to a degree about Australia and some other countries and my understanding of similar workings
in my own country I think, have finally helped me focus on the issues here.
Before I start I should say something about identity and myth making in Australia. Like all “new”
countries, Australia has had trouble defining itself. A national ideal or ideology is necessary for all
nation-states to create unity and so our past is revised and re-invented to become national myth.
National myth is sometimes elevated to what amounts to almost a secular religion or certainly an
ideology. The measure of the effectiveness of this, and the true unity of the people in the nation-state
is the ability of this national ideology to stand up to critical scrutiny.
In Australia initially, it was White Australia and the British Empire, which was inadequate for this
century. It has been replaced by the Anzac Legend or the Pioneer Legend. Gallipoli and all that were
our defining moment, and the sacrifice of the original Anzacs were eulogised and compared with the
supposed current values of courage in adversity, mateship, fair-play, democracy etc etc of current
Australians. The problem with this is it takes the kernel of truth and expands it into a national myth
for political purposes. Our myth downplays for example the militarist, misogynist, racist aspects of
the Anzac experience, and conveniently ignores the urban softness of our current generation. So other
myths have to be created to serve the needs of our nation-state such as modifying the Pioneer Legend
to emphasise for example, the shared values of generations of immigrants who have built our nation,
and so on. I’m being necessarily brief here, but I think you get my drift.
In the USA, eulogising the past and creating myths is an art form and potentially far more dangerous
than the myth making of a little country like Australia. I think for the US, it is their Civil War that
really explains this and illustrates the grave responsibility educators have here to moderate and
provide balance based on objective history.
My understanding of this came from some historical knowledge, and observing and speaking to
various Americans. Mississippians in Washington observing July 4 with pride, whilst to this day in
their own state at Vicksburg, it is not celebrated as that was the day the Confederates surrendered
there in 1863. The little boy in the baseball cap going misty-eyed at the dioramas at the Gettysburg
visitors’ centre. The US marine, martial breast beating, visiting the battlefield at Gettysburg. All the
US flags EVERYWHERE, and not just for July 4 (as if people need constant reminding where they
are). The odd individual in the South entertaining that forlorn hope that “The South Will Rise Again”.
The funny little guy at Williamsburg who spoke about finally “kicking the British Ass” in the War of
1812 because the guide pointed out that the Brits actually burnt Washington. Americans lining up to
see the original “Old Glory” at the Smithsonian as if it were a holy relic of some religion, and so on.
These are only a few impressions. But what to make of it all?
The answer I think is in looking at how the US mythologises its own past. Today Year Zero seems to
be 1776 and nothing of substance mattered before that, but I think this is a post Civil War creation.
Current Americans forget or overlook the fact that the American colonists separated from Britain in
1776 because their rights as free Englishmen were infringed. They weren’t American, but were
Virginians, Bostonians or whatever, and they were Englishmen whose freedoms derived from
England. That separation from the Mother Country and the lack of national identity created a
problem. It established the precedent of succession but a very limited basis for unity without the
creation of a new national myth.
21
The culmination of this was of course 1861 and the Civil War which really defined America, if
tenuously. It illustrated the lack of unity of the American ideal. 700,000 men from the same
immigrant stock just a generation or so before thought loyalty to their state more important than some
US ideal. The Civil War really was a rather shabby affair, rather than the glorious and chivalrous
encounter frequently portrayed today. The two opposing Armies tended to be amateurs led by
incompetents, no better than British or French generals at the time. Both armies ran away at
Manassas/Bull Run, and no general pressed the advantage. Gettysburg was the first major victory that
the Union had in two years, and that was a near thing. The disaster of Pickett’s charge spelt the end of
international recognition of the South by Britain and so victory for them. Yet the war dragged on for
another two years.
What was the result of this and how did the Americans make sense of it all. Divisions remained
strong with carpetbaggers and military occupation of the South. The bodies buried at Gettysburg are
Union soldiers and it took another five years for Southern dead to get dignified burials.
Recently this history is being re-written to emphasise the magnanimity of the North, in pardonning
Davis’ government and so on. This revision does not square with the facts but suits the national myth.
The biggest myth creation was the creation of all the monuments after the Civil War, the greatest
being monumental Washington DC itself. The only monument that we saw in Washington with
anything like a human scale about it was the impressive FDR Memorial, which was a very recent
addition. The earlier monuments elevate altogether human politicians and quite second-rate generals
to the proportions of demi-gods in stone colossi to become objects of adoration and pilgrimage. These
are impressive to see and meant to be so, but remember that it is the twentieth century where America
really enters the world stage, and these men (all) whilst achievers of note, were also human, flawed
and provincial. They were not the demi-gods they appear to be represented as. Washington was a vain
British-American colonel and mediocre general who won at Yorktown only through French
intervention. He did win however. Thomas Jefferson wrote, like Lincoln, one of the finest documents
on freedom in English or any language, yet sexually exploited his slaves. Grant was a drunk and a
second-rater who won no substantial victory from 1861 to 1863 and more than once apologised for
his errors to his troops. He did eventually win however. Lee ordered Pickett’s Charge and was also
gentlemanly enough to apologise to the survivors for it. They buried Lee and Grant when they died
like medieval knights. Other Civil War generals such as McClellan and Mead were similarly
lacklustre, but from 1865, had statues built and streets named in their honours. Lincoln was an
excellent politician who turned his back on his native Tennessee and used the Emancipation
Proclamation for political ends, only applying it selectively to enemies of the Union late in the Civil
War, when they themselves were already getting rid of slavery. Yet he became a martyr to the
American ideal. John Wilkes Booth became the fanatic.
And so for the Twenty-First Century, all these shortcomings tend to be ignored and the myth is
elevated to something akin to a national religion. Small children gaze at the Lincoln Monument and
ask their parents in hushed tones, “is that Mr Lincoln”. Their parents tell them of how he freed the
slaves and unified the nation with his Gettysburg Address, and the works of Thomas Jefferson and
others is why America is The Land of the Free. Many Americans proudly show the flag and quite
literally talk about Gettysburg as the most hallowed ground on earth. I suppose people need
something to believe in even if it may be a little distorted.
22
In the meantime foreigners sometimes appear slightly bemused and perhaps a little fearful that
some American sense of their own apparently unique mythology will lead them to fail to see the
common humanity in all peoples.
Here I think is where the role of educators is so important to develop a more critical facility in free
citizens of any country. Teachers should be at least slightly subversive of national mythologies
otherwise they become indoctrinators. The development of a critical appreciation of history is a great
antidote to nationalist hubris.
Oooroo for now
PS 11 July
We are now in New York State tomorrow a drive to Massachusetts via the Mohawk Trail to Boston
and Salem. From there to Canada and home to Minnesota.
It’s been ages since we have had a powered site to charge computer and camera batteries, and we
have not been able to get to a public library for a while, so unfortunately my correspondence has been
a little slack. Briefly, because I am running out of battery, we left Gettysburg PA and travelled to
Lancaster County where the Amish are based (I think I mentioned this above). From there we went
up the Delaware Water Gap, a magnificent natural area between Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Then
into New York where we stayed in Harriman State Park near West Point and took the train into the
city. What an amazing experience. I shall try to send a detailed account of this with some photos next
time when I have more battery. It really is all it’s cracked up to be and is a fascinating place.
Today we drove via the beautiful Catskill Mountains to Woodstock, still very “Nimbinesque” (Hippie
and counter-culture) and then Cooperstown: “The Prettiest Town in America”. This is very nearly
true as the layout is quaint and pleasant indeed. Now we are not too far from Albany. New York State
is verdant and beautiful, with lovely little hamlets, so far, few crowds and fantastic mountains, hills
and dales.
All until next time

R etc.
MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota X!

(13 July 2001)
We are now in a State Park near Boston. From here we intend to head north through New Hampshire
to Quebec etc.
We had one minor drama on the way here where we dropped our “grey water” tank as the supports
had rusted through. We shall fix it ourselves with bog and trusty number eight fencing wire! That’ll
fix anything. It worked loose on a back-road following the Delaware River on the border of
Pennsylvania and New York State. More on New York, as promised shortly.
23
From New York we avoided the toll roads, and went through the beautiful Catskill Mountains
(Woodstock and all that), Cooperstown (Baseball Hall of Fame, whatever that is) and the interesting
Shaker villages, such as Mount Lebanon near Pittsfield Massachusetts.
The Shaker buildings date from before the Revolution. And are beautiful wooden structure reflecting
their communitarian lifestyle. The Shakers, you may know, were an eighteenth century break-off
from the Quakers, who, amongst other things, practised celibacy. No wonder they died out! They
apparently used to “speak in tongues” and go into convulsions during religious services. Hence their
name. (Maybe paroxysms of religious zeal were accounted for by a lack of sex!).
Now the Shaker villages have been taken over by entrepreneurial Sufi Mystics of all people. They are
a heretic branch of Islam who borrow common mystical ideas from all the religions and probably
with the help of various substances! I’m not sure how the buzzing of Visa card machines exactly
squares with their mystical search. Perhaps it may pay for their drugs?!
Daggi is currently reading an interesting history of the Shakers.
New York State is the most verdant green, with wide-open spaces, breathtaking mountains and plenty
of wild life. Raymond saw a black bear and we all saw beavers. Then we followed the magnificent
Mohawk Trail across northern Massachusetts to here. The scenery was again quite breathtaking with
mountains, rivers, forests and gorgeous little hamlets and farmlands. And yes, there are both genuine
and ersatz Mohawk trade stores catering for tourists en route, a shadow of their former selves.
New York! New York! (a magic place to visit “but I wouldn’t want to live there”)
New York is all things to all people. First impressions are that it is a little like London on steroids, but
it is a whole lot more than that. I think any epithet or superlative that you could apply to any place on
earth could be accurately applied to New York. It is as beautiful as it is ugly. Maybe it is a vision of
the human condition everywhere in some overpopulated future where everyone must struggle to
survive.
I think that some New Yorkers probably exhibit the same symptoms of mental illness as Skinner’s
rats in his overcrowding experiments. New Yorkers tend to avert their eyes when they speak to you
and not give you the time of day. The several very nice people we spoke to, such as the flautist from
the NY Orchestra who helped us on the subway, were without exception, not originally New Yorkers,
but just living here for some time. With seven million plus on Manhattan and nearly the population of
Australia in Greater New York, this is hardly surprising. And it is a real wonder that the place
functions so well, and function it does, with a vibrant laissez-faire life and an infrastructure that
actually works after their fashion.
New York is like nowhere else I’ve been with the possible exception of some of the technologically
advanced, yet poor and over-crowded cities in India. There are no cows in the street in New York
however! New York very much both a First World and Third World city at the very same time, much
as Bombay, Calcutta or New Delhi. New York, like Calcutta, really is the alpha and the omega of
wealth. Wall Street, Fifth and Park Avenues being the epicentre of wealth, probably in the world.
Such plenty is juxtaposed against the grinding poverty of most people (not just those in the Lower
East Side or Harlem). This desperate financial struggle includes the middle class (such as it is), as
New York is just so expensive to survive in. Necessities and rents are astronomical even by US
standards.
24
Our introduction to New York was far from ideal and most unfriendly, but I think reflect some of the
points that I have made above. Aiming for the Harriman State Park north of New York city and south
of West Point to “Park and Ride” on the train, for the first time we really got quite lost. NY State
seems to have a most unwelcoming regard for visitors. They have non-existent or cryptic road
signage; extortionate toll roads everywhere; maniac drivers who treat traffic control measures (red
lights and speed limits) as guidelines only and no state run Visitors Centres with helpful guidance and
maps when you cross into the state (as in all other states that we have visited).
So we quite literally stumbled by accident onto the wrong end of Harriman State Park. And what a
magnificent vision it was. In the late afternoon, it was quite the most beautiful park that we had thus
far seen. The park is as extensive as it is pristine. It reminded me of some of the enchanting formal
Kyoto gardens you see in Japan, with mirror lakes, breathtaking conifer forests and the artful and
balanced placement of rocks and boulders. And not a speck of litter or graffiti was evident. Yet this
was not a man-made garden, but nature at its most wonderful.
Then we began to discover why! In the twighlight I came across a police car with “Park Police”
painted on the side. I asked the gentleman in the car for directions to the camping area, and in a broad
New York accident was told to put my map away and follow his instructions to get there. I was then
warned, that if the campsite was full and we did not immediately leave the park and camped in an
undesignated area, we would be booked. No smile; no small talk and no eye contact from this fellow.
I smiled and thanked him for his help, and we arrived at the camp.
Here we received the same sort of reception from the park staff. I was told that there were two bears
in the park, and asked what their names were, perhaps Yogi and Booboo? They made no response to
my weak attempt at humour (which is probably understandable!).
We finally found our way to a campsite like no other we had seen. It was packed; noisy and filthy.
The locals were vacationing and the poor fellows who cleaned the ablutions must have got “danger
money” or had given up. I won’t go into elaborate detail, suffice to say that Mr Hankey* had escaped
the bowl in one toilet!
So here was the secret. New York Parks were run a little like a concentration camp to isolate the
damage. This was an interesting introduction to New York indeed.
The following day we attempted to “Park and Ride” an hour away in a suburb called Tarrytown, west
of the Hudson. Having been fleeced of a toll of A$ 18-00 just to cross the very impressive bridge over
the river, we found that parking at the train station was for locals only. Even asking the Police who
offered no help (short of threatening us with another ticket if we “strayed”) we finally found our own
park near McDonalds. And so off to the train.
Even before we got the train to New York, a fellow on the station inquired as to whether I had a
quarter. I thought it nice that he was interested in my pecuniary status, so I answered, “Yes thanks,
nice of you to ask” and walked on. The following day a lady in Wall Street, munching on expensive
roasted peanuts (A$ 4 for a 2 oz package), spat half the contents of her chew at me, as she ask for
money since she was starving, had no food or lodgings (“I’m hungry and I’m homeless”, as this very
overweight lady hid her peanuts behind her!). Appreciating the irony of her solicitation, I wished her
good luck with her quest. At least one fellow had a sense of humour when he asked for money “to put
a down-payment on a condominium”. Being basically mean and cynical by nature, I didn’t give him
25
any, but gave him my good wishes instead (which was probably worth more than the money
I had on me anyway)
The trip by train was great. The Hudson Valley really is something to see, with its broad river, steep
cliffs and beautiful old homes. Then we passed across the East River through Harlem. Derelict
tenements, but at the same time some signs of urban renewal; through Yonkers and Yankee Stadium
to Grand Central. Grand Central Station is indeed impressive in scale and structure; clean; beautiful
and functional.
Then we wandered, and wander we did. Spurning the subway the first day, we probably walked ten
miles in midtown Manhattan (the very best way to see this amazing place!)
Off we trotted, up 42nd Street to the impressive NY Library to give up on e-mail when told of an hour
and a half wait. Then to Broadway; Times Square (complete with a near-naked busker known as “The
Naked Cowboy” whom no one considered arresting) to wonderful Central park.
Central Park is three miles long and one wide and we saw the lot: buskers; kids on roller blades;
joggers; sunbathers; derros and nannies pushing prams. The place was beautiful and a hive of activity.
A chauffeur-driven limo actually pulled up and an old lady in a wheelchair, with carer, dressed as for
a tea-party, alighted to a park bench to feed the pigeons with popcorn and ignoring the “No Feeding”
sign. We walked up to the Dakota Apartments; Strawberry Fields (a beautiful area set aside in honour
of John Lennon); the Rockefeller Castle, the Pond (a Skating Rink in winter); the Metropolitan
Museum of Art etc etc
From there we toddled down Park Avenue, Fifth Avenue etc. with their ritzy apartments Carnegie
Hall; Macy’s Department Store and so on. Finally we wound up at the Empire State Building. All
very impressive and a full day indeed, full of sound and light and wonder.
Day two we used the subway to begin our exploration of lower Manhattan. That in itself is an
experience. Like Tokyo and London, it is very easy to use, but unlike both of these cities, the
platforms are quite grotty and hot, lacking air-conditioning. Although contrary to expectations, they
have been cleaned up appreciably, feel safe in daylight and are very efficient. At one stage we tried to
use a public convenience on a station, again finding escaped Mr Hankeys and someone living there in
the process of shooting-up.
We alighted at the end of the line in Manhattan at the aptly-named Bowling Green Station, Battery
Park and spent a pleasant time there amongst happy tourists and locals trying to get them to part with
their money. The ferry to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty was expensive, and there was a long
queue, so we hopped the free Staaten Island commuter ferry and still got a wonderful view of the “old
girl”, and magnificent she is! The hope of millions of migrants to these shores.
From there we walked to the Brooklyn Bridge via wonderful Wall Street and the fish market. The
bridge is an amazing structure, one hundred and twenty years old, built rivet by rivet, with only hand
tools and steam-powered compressors. To think that the workers who built it did so sans electricity,
the internal combustion motor, modern materials, let alone computer aided design!
Then we shuffled off to the Lower East Side. Not too many of the old tenements left, replaced as they
are with high-rise, and further down to Chinatown, whose hundred plus thousand new arrivals are
taking over the Lower East Side, the Bowrey and even Little Italy as time has gentrified and
assimilated the earlier immigrants. The Asians are merely the latest in the saga of migration to
26
America. Chinatown has to be seen to be believed. It IS Chinese in every way and not of
the prissy Singapore variety, but of markets, businesses and hustle and bustle that would give our
health department a fit! We of course ate there, but not the live crabs in the plastic buckets outside the
little shops. A wonderful, colourful experience was had by all of us.
From Chinatown we got lazy with our marathon walk, taking the subway to Greenwich Village and
had a wander throughout. It is a leafy and very interesting part of the city replete with trendy bars and
restaurants. I walked into one shop and this very dark fellow, when he discovered I was an
Australian, insisted on calling me “brother”, as he was from Pakistan. I asked him how the cricket
was going, and he answered that Pakistan was “in the shit” (or words to that effect). I found it hard to
extricate myself from his effusive clutches.
From there, subway to Grand Central and off to our very “New York” State Park.
What a wonderful time in a magical place!!
Walmarts!
They’re great! They’re everywhere and open 24 hours. You can buy anything there and the kids love
them. Raymond goes to the auto section and Jessie to the food! They are a department store chain that
is a little like a combination of all our supermarkets in Australia in one spot. Many even have a
McDonalds in them (yes, they have McDonalds here too). And if you are really stuck, they will let
you park an RV in their carpark overnight. We haven’t had to do that yet!
(*mooky stick etc)
Oooroo for now
MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota XI!

(16 July 2001)
We’re sitting in the RV in the wilds of New Hampshire next to the Beaver Brook Falls (beautiful!).
The closest little hamlet is Colebrook (where we used the Laundromat), and tomorrow Quebec!
Today we drove through the superlative White Mountains of northern New Hampshire, having stayed
in a very nice wayside area last night.
Today we saw plenty of moose (or is it mooses, meeses or meese?) much to the particular delight of
Jessie.
The poor old RV did it again and we were up for a new fuel pump this morning, as it was losing
petrol through the diaphragm of the pump. Fair wear and tear, and all that, and we shouldn’t really
complain, as it has only been the second major thing that has gone wrong with the beast. The good
thing is that parts are unsophisticated and readily available. I’ve christened her “HaRV” (Harvey): the
happy RV. Raymond thinks this is both sad, sick and lame!
Boston was great. A small, picturesque and safe city, juxtaposing beautiful modern buildings with
historical gems. The aspect of the city from the Charles River, as Murray said, is very reminiscent of
dear old Melbourne.
27
We walked the five mile round trip of the “Freedom Trail”, the red brick road to take you to
all the “historical shrines”. Yes, I’m afraid people here really use that terminology for those few years
from 1775. Other religious terms are also bandied about such as “icon” of the revolution, and we get
little signs saying “Washington passed here on the way to lead the Continental Army at Concord”
outside the today’s Walmart; or “Paul Revere lit his warning lamp here” or some such. It’s all a bit
like the Stations of the Cross at times. Also we have again, wonderful depictions of Revere etc
adorning public squares, all produces eighty years at least after the event and supposed likenesses.
Anyway, we stayed in a well-run state park outside Boston where I encountered my first skunk and a
smell you can never forget and never describe. Subsequently it is instantaneously recogniseable.
We “Parked and Rode” the wonderful Boston metro and alighted at the famous and lively Boston
Common. There was plenty going on with Civil War re-enactors; speakers on soapboxes; roller-
bladers; street vendors etc.
Bostonians tend to be very helpful when they see someone with their face buried in a map. We
checked out the imposing State House (the Massachusetts capitol/legislature) then followed the well
laid out “red brick road” to such sights as the Old State House dating from the Seventeenth Century,
complete with a golden lion and unicorn (destroyed in 1776 and restored in the 1880s).
Boston has some nice, similarly old markets and other civic buildings, lovingly restored and
maintained within the modern city. Always, seemingly a connection with the Revolution is
highlighted on the plaque affixed, to the exclusion of most other history.
The churches, and especially St Stephens (connected with the Kennedys) are also very impressive.
We also saw other “icons” such as Revere’s house; USS Constitution (“old Ironsides”), the oldest still
Commissioned US ship from 1812, and Bunker Hill (something like the Eureka Stockade writ large).
Nineteenth century US monumentalism at its best, with rosettes put on the monuments. even today as
commemorations by “The Daughters of the American Revolution” (I understand, something like the
CWA!).
As with everywhere else, we went to all the free things only, as tickets here are prohibitively
expensive (especially for four) and there are never “family tickets”.
All this however was very interesting indeed, and fascinating to see. Raymond remarked that I was in
“historical heaven”.
Boston has also the most colourful restaurants which are on the north side of the city, reflecting a
surprising ethnic diversity although predominantly Italian, and obvious prosperity. Just everybody
seems to eat out!
From Boston we drove to the suburb of Cambridge and saw MIT and the very impressive Harvard
University campus. The original “red brick” university, buzzing with activity. From there we drove to
Salem. Salem really is a suburb of Boston now as well, but once through the throng, is well
preserved, and retains much of its character..
At Salem (of the Witch Craze, Arthur Millar’s “The Crucible” and Nathaniel Hawthorne fame), we
spent most of the day enthralled. Cynical Raymond (who knows where he gets it from?) remarked
that it was amazing that people could be still making money out of nineteen people hanged after three
28
hundred and fifty years ago. Unconventional semi-religions (professed witches etc) have
opened up shops to flog to the tourists.
There is a fascinating burial ground where the Hawthornes etc are buried back to the 1600s.
Again, there are plenty of beautiful old Seventeenth and Eighteenth buildings that are lovingly
preserved, and it was refreshing not to have too much 1776 drum beating in this city after Boston and
Washington, as much of the history is too old for that.
What I most liked was the strong connection maintained with the sea in Salem. We went aboard the
dinky little sailing ship the “Friendship”, maintained by the National Parks. We didn’t go into the old
Customs House (once run by Nathanial Hawthorne) as it cost! There was a craft fair on the waterfront
where old-timers and new enthusiasts demonstrated maritime model making, knot tying, scrimshaw
etc. Just great! Capstan shanties were being sung by a folk group which included “Bound for South
Australia!”. The whaling fleets from these areas established some of the earliest connections with
Australia from the 1790s, and this was a pleasant reminder that made me a little homesick.
We saw the “House of Seven Gables” and then shot through to the north, to get caught in a traffic jam
on the coast. New Hampshire has only about twenty miles of coastline, and it was packed with
summer vacationers. We couldn’t get accommodation so we headed inland to a trusty State Park. This
time though we arrived too late and were confronted with closed gate. So it was a truck stop!
We are now poised for Canada.
Oooroo for now
MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota XII!

(or more correctly: “Amazing Adventures in America 9 (and Canada!)”)
(20-25 July 2001)
Canada!
After staying at a small and very nice waterfall called Beaver Ponds Falls, in the White Mountains of
New Hampshire, we climbed up into the fog, avoiding the odd moose, to a quiet international frontier
post to go into Quebec.
It is a tribute to the freedom and maturity of both the US and Canada, that this little frontier post was
so small and low-key. It, of course, represented the longest undefended and just about open border in
the world. Just two border “guards” (if that is really a suitable term): one armed one on the US side,
who we didn’t meet and one unarmed one on the Canadian side, who we had difficulty escaping, he
being so friendly!.
A minute or two gave us all six-month stamps in our passports, then it was a forty-minute discussion
of “life, the Universe and everything!”. The genuine friendliness and open good humour of this
fellow became typical of what we could expect from all the Canadians we spoke too. He did however
allude in his conversation to Canada’s on-going linguistic/ethnic problem. What he said was the more
amazing because he was posted in Quebec and spoke French as part of his job. He called himself a
Scots Canadian, which is very like the American idea that you are an Irish American etc, and I
29
suspect a little perpetuating of divisions. I think it fair to say that if people think this way at all, they
should be Canadian or Australian etc. first i.e. a Canadian of Scots descent. Anyway it may explain
the problem, as this fellow then said that the British, when they had the power, should have kicked
the French out of Quebec, as they had done with the Achadian French (Cajuns) in Nova Scotia. He
conceded that it was probably too late now! All this from a Canadian immigration fellow working in
Quebec! Anyway, as I have said, I hope that this attitude is more in the minds of a few, than a real
and widespread phenomenon.
I found out later that the population of Quebec is about (aboot?) seven millions, of which one million
are Anglophones. Francophones are found elsewhere however in Canada. I get the impression that the
differences between the Anglophones and Francophones is exaggerated by the media, as relations
seem businesslike and at least polite to me, even if there is no real love loss between them.
Quebec province and its people are something special. We had our third mechanical hiccough with
HaRV. On a back road just over the border, a mysterious knocking developed in the front end, so we
found our way to a small garage. The problem was diagnosed as worn front break pads and replaced
by very friendly Francophone Quebecois mechanics, who genuinely and happily chatted to us to
practice their English. Evidently the legendary disdain for English in France does not apply to “New
France” if you are sensitive to their language and apologise for your lack of knowledge of the same. I
said something like:"”Je swe (sp!) Australien. Pardon a moi, non parlet Fancais”. The crappy
grammar (and spelling) didn’t seem to matter to them as it showed perhaps a lack of arrogance about
speaking English. They all want to learn good English in order to travel, but I suppose must feel
ambivalent about it. We were invited to the fellow’s home, and the bill was very reasonable,
compared with what we had previously paid below the border.
The Quebec countryside has similarities with the US and many of the same stores (such as the
ubiquitous Wal-Mart), but it is refreshingly different to be working in kilometres again and see
signage almost exclusively in French. It’s the little things, like now being able to use a real “toilette”
again, rather than having to do it in a “washroom” (this is still the preferred translation on the
bilingual signs however!)
Quebec City is very French but transposed to the New World. It is a beautiful old city with interesting
topography. We parked for a tourist-friendly cost, high above the city on the Heights of Abraham.
This is now a beautifully maintained and extensive city park overlooking the wide Saint Lawrence
River. In the 1740s, it had been the site of the battle that decided the fate of Canada, when the British
under General Wolfe climbed the heights from the river and defeated General Montcalm’s French
garrison. Both commanders were killed but the Poms won and proceeded to expand the Citadel
(which is restored and still an active army base), to keep the Quebecois who had come to Canada a
century before under subjugation. It worked, and when the US attacked Quebec in 1776, they were
driven off (though not in Montreal, which they occupied). When Quebec rebelled against the Brits in
1837, they too were defeated.
An Anglophone Canadian told me of course that this was “unfinished business” with the Quebecois
as they are taught in their schools that the cursed English beat them, and he believed that this created
a wonderful opportunity to exploit the chip on the shoulder for political purposes. I rather hope not, as
there have been plenty of antidotes to this. The very year that the Thirteen Colonies rebelled to the
south, Britain was giving the Quebecois more autonomy and the right to their own language and
schools etc. It was Quebec militia who were one of two units who repelled the American invasion in
1776, and to this day French speaking Canadians make up the bulk of the Canadian army, being
imbued with British style drill and discipline. Finally I think about six of the most recent Canadian
30
Prime Ministers (including the current one Jean Gretchin and the Governor General) have been
French Canadians. The Quebecois know that if they “went it alone” they would be the weakest link in
any NAFTA agreement or free trade arrangement with Canada, the US and Mexico. So my guess is
that separation just won’t happen.
Below the citadel is the Old Town of Quebec City, which is the only walled city still existing in
North America. It is picturesque indeed, ancient and very French. There is a British Imperial overlay
in the town from the last century, with monuments to various Governors. One of the earliest was an
American Loyalist born in Massachusetts in the 1750s, who came to Canada after the American
Revolution. Loyalists (35 to 40 % of the population south of the border) were the first of a long line
of émigrés from the US to Canada (escaped slaves and draft resisters in this century) and says
something about Canada’s freedom (notwithstanding the earlier Imperial context.)
There are also monuments aplenty to the Quebec before the 1740s when the French were pre-
eminent. All these monuments are bilingual, and any differences between Francophones and
Anglophones have been put aside or filed under “unfinished business” in the interests of the tourist
dollar!
We were thoroughly entranced by the sights and sounds of Quebec, and the food is wonderful.
Baguettes, the cakes and even escargot.
In all the Canadian cities, Jessie and Raymond were a sight to see. We had purchased two little
“Chinese special” scooters for them in the US and they scooted everywhere on the pavements. When
Daggi and I got a little tired, we were known to borrow them. That was an even more amazing sight!
From Quebec we drove to Montreal. Quite a different city to Quebec, but also very French (or “New
France” perhaps) and equally appealing. Montreal is truly cosmopolitan (with so many immigrants, it
reminded us of Melbourne!). We drove down the guts of the city, through narrow cobblestone streets
and wound up of all places, right at the old waterfront. We took out a $15 parking permit from the
automat and proceeded to the tourist information down the little streets. There we were told that we
could stay if we wished in the heart of the city, overnight. How civilised and welcoming is that? In
Melbourne you’d get clamped! Daggi counted twenty-two mobile homes/RVs parked at the
waterfront carpark. These were mainly vehicles with Quebec numberplates, who knew about this
cheap over-nighter.
This meant that we could see Montreal’s nightlife. The city is amazing and doesn’t seem to sleep.
Various acts, free concerts, jugglers, magicians, portrait artists, little stalls selling bits and pieces to
the tourists, and even music groups and cultural displays from Africa, and so on, all on the streets
until the small hours. The kids particularly thought it was great as they scooted about!
Earlier we had wandered to the main cathedral, feeling rather wounded after an “all you can eat”
buffet in Chinatown for $6-50 each. Vaguely I made out an Australian accent on the steps of the
church. Here was this fellow drumming up business for a show later that evening.
After talking with him for a moment, I realised his face was very familiar, (I have always been
reasonable good with faces but crap with names). I asked, “Aren’t you Lano?” (You may remember
the Lano and Woodley comedy series on the ABC (that’s Australian Broadcasting Corporation for
our American correspondents )). They were very funny indeed with plenty of mine and new spins on
the straight bloke (not meaning “heterosexual”!) and the funny bloke.
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Anyway, I got it a little wrong as it was the “other” one, Frank Woodley to whom I spoke. He
is a good guy, very down to earth, and quite happy to be recognised. They were doing a show here in
one of the main Montreal theatres on the way to the Edinburgh Comedy Festival. We suggested that it
was a shame that their TV show had been canned as we were some of their greatest fans. Jessie in
particular was rather star-struck and quite in awe to meet one half of the duo. Anyway we scored free
tickets from him and went to see the show that evening. It was great, and here we met two other
Aussie girls studying law at McGill University in Montreal (they had paid for their tickets!)
Then off to Ottawa. I didn’t think Quebec or Montreal could be matched. How wrong did I turn out to
be! We had a bit of trouble getting there though, as there are just too many other wonderful
attractions to hold us up!
We decided that, rather than go straight to Ottawa, we would check out the Gatineau National
Conservation Park, a little way north of the city in Quebec. Disaster seems always to be averted, and
we seem to turn trouble into triumph! We got a little lost; arrived late in the heat, to find that there
were absolutely no “hookups”, let alone campsites to be had. It was the holiday season and the whole
place was booked up. (Raymond read a T-shirt the other day that said: “If it’s called ‘The Tourist
Season”, then why can’t you shoot them?”)
Anyway, the Quebec Parks fellow told us that we were welcome to stay in the carpark near the office,
free of charge for the night. Isn’t that generous spirited? The following day, still no spaces, so we
bought a day pass with the intention of doing some walking. During the day we met some wonderful
Canadians who amongst other things, made the offer for us to park at their place, gave us stacks of
tips, drew maps and so on. They are such openhearted people. One of these fellows told about the
Lusk Cave system inside the park. So for a spot of spieliology!
A five-kilometre walk to the caves left most of the throng behind. You descend into the caves, which
are actually an underground river of quite warm water, and squeeze through a passageway under the
mountain. A torch (flashlight) and a little courage were essential. Jessie particularly loved it, and went
through the mountain three times. At one point, it is necessary to hold your breath in the dark and
submerge, as the space between the roof of the cave and the water is just too small. I don’t think there
were any rock-spiders in the cave.
Then off we went, out of the park under a beautiful covered bridge, and onward to Ottawa. For a
capital city, it too is very welcoming as we found an inexpensive campground very centrally indeed.
It was actually next to a gorge of the Ottawa River, with parklands nearby, where we were able to
watch wild ground hogs and black squirrels quite closely.
Ottawa is so picturesque, with such a stately setting, and is well laid out. Apparently Queen Victoria
herself settled the argument over where the Canadian capital was to be in 1867, by giving it to Ottawa
because it was “smack dab” on the language border between French and English speakers. The
Ottawa River (a tributary of the Saint Lawrence) runs through the city, with Francophone suburbs
like Hull and Gatineau to the north and Anglophone to the south.
The imposing public buildings, most dating from the 1850s, are set out on Parliament Hill, a cliff top
high above the Ottawa River.
The view from above, down to the river and the interesting Rideau Locks is brilliant. This series of
locks linked Ottawa with Toronto to improve military communication due to fear of American
invasion in the 1830s.
32
The most impressive building on Parliament Hill is undoubtedly the Parliament itself. It is very
English, with its own Big Ben looking very like Westminster, but with many classic extensions,
wings and offices in a retrained pseudo-Gothic/Gallic style with gargoyles, flying buttresses and
towers. All rather breathtaking and in a lofty and pleasant setting. Tower Hill as they call this
precinct, is well laid out with a rotunda, wonderful views and great public statues. They even have a
little enclosure where volunteers feed stray cats, and to the great amusement of the tourists, wild
raccoons come in at night to steal the cat food.
At ten on Sunday morning, I watched the Changing of the Guard (Canadian Grenadiers resplendent in
busbees and red tunics, military band and pipers). The ceremony was more elaborate than the British
counterpart (doubtless catering for the multitude of tourist). The drill was mesmerising, being of the
more precise and I think, much better British variety. It was almost identical to the Australian Army
but for a few minor points.
We went on the free tour through the House of Commons and the Senate. Raymond went temporarily
missing in the bowels of Parliament and we thought that he may have ended up in the Prime
Minister’s office. While we waited for him, we met a very knowledgeable student teacher who was
working as a guide at parliament and we talked about the differences in our two systems. It is
interesting that the Canadians still have a non-elected Senate appointed by the Commons, however
the Senate still has the power to reject Money Bills. Probably not being elected may make this less
likely due to less partisanship, but maybe not and so there is still the possibility of the Australian
scenario of 1974 happening here too.
In Ottawa we also saw the interesting modern National Gallery of Canada and I visited the Canadian
War Museum. The latter was fascinating, covering as it did the days of General Wolfe; the US
invasion; right up to the Canadian Peacekeepers and their contribution to NATO. Highlights for me
was the treatment of World War One, and notable Canadian support when their soldiers and the First
Australian Division broke the Hindenburg Line and save Amiens on 8 August 1918 (Ludendorff
called it “the Black day for the German Army”). The displays on Dieppe and Arnhem in World War 2
were also very interesting.
We wandered this wonderful city, along the banks of the Ottawa River; to their colourful market
where we had very French cakes and cappuccinos. We also ate Lebanese, which reminded us of
home!! Interestingly there was a peaceful demonstration going on in one main street by assorted
anarchist types against the G8. Possibly a similar “rent-a-crowd” that were in Melbourne last year. So
many other sights and sounds in Ottawa, but we had to tear ourselves away. So we headed southwest
towards Toronto and Niagara.
The journey was an interesting one as we eventually followed Highway 33: “The Loyalist Parkway”
on the north shore of lake Ontario. The route commemorates the hundreds of Loyalist who fled the
American Revolution, lost their lands and came to settle here with land grants from the King.
All this is fascinating and there is a little museum along the way, operated by of all groups, the United
Empire Loyalists, which still exist here and continue to fly the old British flag minus St Patrick. In
2001, they sound a little like the idiot fringe or at least mild fruit cakes. They may have had a place in
the last century, although I’m not even sure of that, as the UEL actually existed in Australia in the
1890s and opposed Federation.
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All this points to the Canadian conundrum. After leaving Quebec and entering Ontario, the
similarity with the US was even more striking, with the same cityscapes and chain stores. Quebec at
least did not have a McDonalds on every second corner. It seems to me that the more alike the
Canadians seem to the Americans, the more Canadians copy American ways to try to illustrate the
differences. For example, on the Loyalist Parkway, there was an echo of the Colonial Parkway at
Williamsburg and Yorktown, complete with the little “Stations of the Cross” plaques with historical
explanations. Also in this part of Ontario, so close to the US border, there are as many Canadian
Maple Leaf flags flying as you see Stars and Stripes in the US. The Canadian flag is everywhere and
in all sizes. They seem to be trying to say that they are proud and different, only to confirm their very
similarities to the US in doing so! A Canadian told me that it had nothing to do with the Americans,
but was merely to inspire the many New Canadians and give them a sense of identity. There are as
many migrants here as there are in Australia, but we don’t do this, so I’m not too sure of his
explanation.
Tomorrow Niagara!
25 July
NIAGARA!
We sit in another superlative Conservation Park near Niagara Falls, having spent a wonderful day
exploring the environs. Thank goodness for the digital camera, as there were so many wonderful
photo opportunities that it has saved us a fortune in processing!
The Falls were indeed impressive, but not as high or grandiose as all the hype had led us to expect.
Nonetheless we thoroughly enjoyed our day there in spite of the thousands of tourists and the traps to
ensnare them.
We arrived last night after battling the Toronto traffic. Toronto is a little like Melbourne, complete
with trams. It’s a big, modern city with a gigantic tower. We took the advise from the Canadians we
met to give it a miss, so we didn’t stop.
This morning after a late start (as usual), we followed the QEW (Queen Elisabeth Way) freeway, and
then drove along the southern shore of Lake Ontario to the quaint and historic little town of Niagara-
On-The-Lake. From there we took the Niagara Parkway south through the most gorgeous scenery.
One of the highlights of the Parkway was the great Brock Monument with its two hundred andthirty
five steps which we climbed, to get a wonderful view. This column is a little like Nelson’s Column,
and marks the site of the Battle of Queenston Heights, which effectively ended the US invasion of
Canada in 1812. Nearly one thousand of their troops were trapped on the Canadian side by the cliffs
and captured. Interestingly, the Canadian-British force was composed partly of Negro militia who,
many being ex-slaves, were loyal to the Crown as slavery was long abolished in the British Empire.
Then we hit the big attraction. Supposedly the best view, and so all the development and hustle and
bustle is on the Canadian side. Since the smaller American Falls and the Horseshoe or Canadian Falls
both form, flow and fall from the US side, the best view is to be had from the Canadian side.
The Canadians have had a National Park there since the 1880s and so the gardens are well established
and quite magnificent. New York State is trying to catch up since the 1960s with a State Park, but
suffer from geographical and topographical disadvantage.
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Linking the two Niagara Falls towns is the imposing Rainbow Bridge, which is testament to
the close relations today between the two countries. We walked the bridge and went through the
passport control (very low key), to view the falls from the US side. I think the beauty in many ways
here is easier to appreciated simply because the US side is not so touristed, nor so frequently
photographed and is more subtle.
Earlier, on the Canadian side, we had paid a king’s ransom to spend fifteen minutes with scores of
other gullible types on the famous “Maid of the Mist” boat (boot) that takes you up to the Canadian
Falls. At least we did it and so have no regrets on that part, and we got some “bottler” photos. I
suppose that it was only a matter of time before we were to become true tourists and succumb to these
temptations.
According to the guide book, we are now sixteen hours straight driving from Minneapolis. We won’t
be doing that though! We shall head north to Lake Superior, crossing to northern Michigan at Sault
Ste. Marie Ontario instead of battling through the crowds of Detroit and Chicago. The distance should
be about the same and should take another few days. This then should be my last correspondence “on
the road”. When next you hear from us, it should be from our home away from home in Minnesota.
Oooroo for now
MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota XIII!

(or more correctly: “Amazing Adventures in America 10
(30 July 2001)
Whew! We made it back to Minneapolis!
Seven weeks and over seven thousand miles or about twelve thousand kilometres. The places we’ve
been and the things that we’ve seen!
We kept going north on the way home. After Niagara, we initially wanted to head back to Minnesota
through Detroit and Chicago, but on reflection decided against travelling through these two big cities.
So we went north to the interesting nickel-mining town of Sudbury and it is as well we did, because
as you leave the more fertile areas of the big cities in Canada, after literally only one hundred and
fifty or so kilometers, you enter the Canadian Shield.
The shield is an ancient geological formation of inhospitable rock that prevented major settlement.
Canada is even more underpopulated here than comparable distances from the cities in Australia. So
it is pristine. The scenery is truly breathtaking.
Once at Sault Ste. Marie, where I sent a world record e-mail from the library that was closing in
fifteen minutes, we picked up a hitchhiker. (we didn’t see hitchhikers, nore many foreign tourists in
the US). He was an interesting fellow, fifty-sh and a bit like an aged hippie with a story.
Professionally he was a social worker on vacation, hitching to BC to meet with his son. This fellow
recommended that we didn’t cross into the US at Sault Ste. Marie, but drive the “North Shore” of
Lake Superior. And what a great decision this turned out to be!
About this time we realised that we were about half way across Canada on the Trans Canada
Highway. The highway is well maintained and has some magnificent scenery. Little rock mounds or
cairns point the way on the sides of the roads, following Indian tradition, but added by travellers.
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The North Shore was great with nice state parks to stop at and plenty of extraordinary viewing
points overlooking rapidly running rivers and vistas of lake and mountain. We actually saw a black
bear in the wild just before the US border.
After a very friendly and laid back crossing into the US, we visited the impressive Grand Portage
Historical site, with its recreated Seventeenth Century trading centre for the early fur traders. This has
been accurately rebuilt, including palisades, Great Hall and Indian village, based on archaeological,
historical and anthropological records. Knowledgeable volunteers in period costume completed a very
fascinating picture.
From there we visited the famous Split Rock lighthouse, built high above Lake Superior.
Then Gooseberry Falls, where we knew that we were back into populated areas. It was just so
crowded with people, which did spoil it a little for us. Or were we spoilt after travelling so far and
generally avoiding the throng? The only places we really found crowds were in the cities and the two
times that we strayed too close to the sea. Tourists I think may avoid the South this time of year.
Then to Duluth and Minneapolis.
We shall spend a couple of days gardening, washing, bill-paying, seeing neighbours and fixing the
RV and then off again for a couple of weeks only this time. Perhaps a smaller circle to BC and the
Canadian Rockies and then back via the Dakotas etc. More to follow as the saga continues!
Oooroo for now

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PART 2 Second Trip
MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota XIV!

(07 August 2001)
THE WEST!!
Yes, we’re off again is search of adventure! We said good-bye to Minneapolis last Saturday, having
caught up with all our nice neighbours; letters and bills and Raymond mowing the lawn. Unpacking,
washing and repacking, and then we took off again last Saturday 5/8 on our second odyssey. We have
to make it back as promised this time, as the Minnesota State Fair begins around 24/8 and I have to be
back at work three days later. Oh well, I shouldn’t complain as no one else anywhere has the long
summer break that I have been given here.
We left Minneapolis and followed Interstate 94 towards Fargo, staying at the Buffalo River State
Park that evening. As we have joined State Parks Minnesota, this saved us $4-00 in camping fees.
The park was pleasant though not spectacular and rather empty due to the heat (well into the late
nineties with high humidity) and the high petrol prices which have kept people home.
The US, with their “States Rights” imperative, means that there is no reciprocity between states in
terms of membership or tie-up between state parks. As a lot of their states are not much bigger than
postage stamps, this is not very good for the few overseas visitors silly enough to put up with the
present exchange rate. You see such variations in everything between the states, from electoral rules
to the wearing of motorcycle helmets, all controlled by parish politics. If it’s not actually
“democracy” or even federalism as we know it (being more of a confederation here) it is certainly
what they mean by “liberty”. Liberty is paramount and seems to mean the liberty to make sometimes
quite strange political decisions (when is a chad not a chad?!) or potentially harmful personally
decisions such as not wearing a seatbelt. Perhaps because there is no effective government health
schemes, the latter doesn’t matter to the politicians as the taxpayers won’t have to pay for any
motorcycle quadriplegics as they do in “socialist” (a really dirty word here) countries. Oh well, viva
la difference!
Then North Dakota… miles and miles of flat, boring wheatbelt prairie with un-impressive little towns
a long way apart, much like our Wimmera and Mallee. US and Canadian country towns on the
Interstates lack any charm if they have not retained any historical character. They are like some of the
worst commercial bits of any city (fast food outlets, petrol stations and retail strips) picked up and
magically dumped amongst the fields. At least you know what to expect in the next town I suppose.
How all these merchants make a living beats me, but the towns tend to be the same from Mississippi
to Montreal. The more interesting little hamlets are those bypassed by “progress”.
The country roads are generally excellent, with comfortable wayside stops complete with picnic
tables, tourist information and clean and well appointed toilets.
Numbers of American families seem to be moving for the vacation, but the travellers are dominated
by retirees fleeing the empty nest. One wonders whether a life time of few holidays, hard work and
material acquisition has really left them with enough time or health to see “the world” i.e. generally
North America. Mostly they are elderly couples with a little yapper or a cat in a thirty five footer: a
so-called “five wheel” with names like “Vagabond”, “Prowler” or even “Sundowner”. These
monsters are “the third heart attack waiting to happen” when it comes to manoueverability. They have
everything that opens and shuts including satellite television automatic awnings, side steps and
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leveling. Some stick little maps of the US states on the vehicle to show what they have done. As
Raymond says: “been there, done that, can’t remember it”.
Of course the real worry in Canada and the US is that many of these people are on the road at all in
their forty five-foot machines, some towing cars. We have been cut off by some whom forget that
they were towing a vehicle. In Australia to drive anything approaching these lengths, you need to sit
for a “heavy” endorsed licence. But not in North America. Personal liberty taken to an extreme to
threaten the rights of other road users.
In quite a contrast are the bikies (or as they are known here, “bikers”) on the move. Most of them are
late middle aged. Ninety percent ride Harleys, sans helmet and dress in leather cowboy chaps and
bandanas. There is a big bike meeting in Sheridan Wyoming, and many are heading there. They do
seem much freer spirits.
In North Dakota we “rough camped” at the southern part of Theodore Roosevelt National Park. The
area is the famous Badlands and is picturesque and full of interesting wildlife. According to Daggi is
a little like a less grand version of parts of the Grand Canyon. I thought it a little like the Flinders
Ranges. Highlights here were the wild bison and the prairie dog “cities”.
Before I write about the bison I fell the iconoclastic urge coming on again.
Theodore Roosevelt has a museum dedicated to him at the park gate, and of course everybody
apologised, excuses and mitigates that he was a product of his time and was a great American
president who charged up San Juan Hill, established National Parks and this and that. Another
American icon complete with his face on Mount Rushmore.
It appears that Teddy Roosevelt was really a bit of a “bastard”, yet he has the park named for him. We
saw his “log cabin” (Maltese Cross Cabin)… log cabin to president life most of the rest with the
fortune his family made in trade in New York. He was a myopic, self promoting demagogue who
bought a place in the US army for the unjust war against Spain in 1898, given a honourary rank of
Lieutenant Colonel with none of the hard work and not to be trusted with any real military authority.
Then he promoted himself as a hero after the run up the aforementioned hill. The Republicans made
him vice-president to get rid of him, which backfired when President McKinley was gunned down.
He rewarded his friends by, for example making his hunting guide the Federal Marshall of Montana.
So Teddy loved the badlands. To slaughter game! Bear, wolves, buffalo, bighorn sheep etc. and he
was such a poor shot that local guides were employed to set up “unsportsmanlike” shots for him.
Even when he helped set up the National Park Service as president, mostly this was to help conserve
game species for hunters that he had contributed to wiping out. In the Badlands the Bighorn sheep
species was brought to total extinction and a related but different species was re-introduced this
century from Canada. All the bears, wolves and the bison herd were totally wiped out in the Badlands
as well.
The bison were re-introduced to the Badlands in 1958, and the herd now numbers over three hundred.
We saw and photographed part of it and an impressive sight it was. Before leaving on our first big
trip, we went to a Native American festival at Stillwater, Minnesota. There, an elderly Indian
gentlemen told us that in Montana he helped try to bring back the bison by beginning the many
private commercial herds on the Reservations. Apparently the local cattlemen didn’t like this
competition and screamed “bruscillosis”, claiming that the bison were giving it to their cattle. So in
the 1980s, one of these cattlemen “got the ear” of the State Governor, who authorised the slaughter of
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the herd. The old chap and others have now rebuilt their herds but there are still problems in
this regard, notably around Yellowstone National Park.
According to the Ranger at Theodore Roosevelt NP, the latest is that bison don’t carry bruscillosis at
all! The bison herd there he says is perhaps the purest in North America. Currently they are doing
genetic profiling of this herd and others, and proving that most bison have inherited a DNA strand
from some ancestral “funny business” with cattle, and it is this DNA strand that carries the disease.
Bison are innocent! All very interesting. The wonders of modern science and all that!
Theodore Roosevelt NP held plenty of interest. We joined the other “rubber necks” to photograph the
majestic bison herd (including an old fellow very close to the road) and the endearing little prairie
dogs (or more correctly, barking squirrels.) They actually live in “villages” or “towns” of several
hundred mutually supporting individuals. Their burrows are elaborate, many-chambered and deep and
come right up to the road. The little individuals stand on their hind legs and bark at the cars to give
warning to their fellows. Very cute.
Someone said that when you cross the Missouri River the farmers stop wearing baseball caps and
start wearing Stetsons. This is a bit of an exaggeration, but there is a sense of difference, and that we
are “West”. Medora, at the gateway to Theodore Roosevelt NP was such a place. An old cattle town,
now with mock Western facades to trap the tourists!
12 August 01
CATCH-UP TIME! We sit in a comfortable RV park at Lake Louise, British Columbia having been
in “the Bush” for several days… no electricity or showers for that matter, so this is the first
opportunity that I have had to catch up on our travels. And the places we’ve been and the things that
we have seen!
From North Dakota, we ventured into Montana and to the Little Bighorn National Historic Site. Poor
old General Custer was certainly a collapsible American historical figure, but it turns out recent
history has actually done him a bit of a dis-service. Archaeological research has recently shown up
that although there was no “Last Stand” but rather a rout, there were also sorts of mitigating factors in
Custer’s favour, such as poor command and intelligence higher up. I’m reading a fascinating book on
it at present!
The sight was wonderfully evocative, being virtually unchanged prairie with a great museum and
interpretative centre. Outside “The Custer Battlefield Trade Store” run by the Crow Reservation is
also interesting, and really demonstrates who persevered. The Crow Reservation looks prosperous
enough apart from some “Springervilles” amongst it.
“Springervilles(?)”… Throughout the US you see these curious oblong dismounted trailers. Just
simple cabins, all the same but in various colours and conditions. This is were the rural poor live, and
they are everywhere, especially in the South and on Indian Reservations. During the Great
Depression, the shanties where the poor lived were called “Hoovervilles”. Today they might be called
“Springervilles”, after the famous American TV Host and philosopher, Jerry Springer esq.
Anyway Montana is an amazing place! Superlative scenery that keeps getting better as you travel
west and north towards the Rockies and wonderfully hospitable locals! The people here are
particularly friendly, and everywhere we went, we were made just so welcome. It is really quite a
contrast to the Easterners. I’m certainly generalising a bit, but this was very much our experience.
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The Hardin Trailer Park near Little Bighorn we could hardly escape, then we found ourselves at a
fishing access to a beautiful river north of the state capital, Helena, with some very friendly
Montanans with whom we shared the fire and discussed the world.
From there we were off to Glacier-Waterton Peace Park on the US Glacier National Park side of the
border. Here I was particularly glad I had the digital camera, because it is not possible to take a bad
picture. At Glacier we drove through the most sublime mountains, up to about 3,000 metres high,
topped with glaciers and surrounded by mirror lakes and pristine forests. We saw a black bear in the
wild again, which created a traffic jam on the approach to the park.
The old RV was two feet too long to be allowed to drive right through the park, so we went half way
to camp and later skirted it and went in again at the northern end.
Settling in to our camp site we were welcomed by the camp deer and did some bush-walking up to
the Avalanche Lake and Glacier. A small walk of only four miles and about three hours, but this walk
defied superlatives. It was positively mind-blowing. We walked past mountain torrents into a hidden
Shangri-La: a mirror lake surrounded by high cliffs, waterfalls and melting glaciers. Walking around
the lake, Daggi and Jessie spotted a deer, and as I fumbled to get a new battery for the camera, I
turned to see another deer a metre behind me, not the least bit perturbed, probably never having seen
or heard a rifle.
From here we crossed the border into Alberta, and the second half of the Peace Park, the Waterton
National Park. This too was quite impressive and very crowded, but not quite as large as the US park
at Glacier. Here we walked fifteen kilometres in about five and half hours to the picturesque Goat
Lake. The walk did follow a real goat track, which seemed to rise a thousand metres in as many
kilometres. But it was breathtaking. Leaving the park, we again saw bison.
For us the border crossing was not a problem, although a much more serious crossing place than
when we came into Quebec earlier. We were not apparently supposed to bring in firewood to Canada,
because of Dutch Elm Disease. We did, but we weren’t told about it! The vehicle before us, high
school employees from Illinois, were picked at random, and to their embarrassment, the Canadian
customs went through everything in their vehicle. They too had firewood, which was confiscated. At
the campsite later we found out that they had to wait over an hour for the required interview that is
mandated under the circumstances. The cause of the delay apparently was a US citizen who had a
criminal record and was being held to be sent back to the US and refused entry.
Once in Alberta we had a near-religious experience! We went shopping in the Co-op of a little one
horse town with a dead horse, known as Pincher Creek. And guess what I found in their bakery…
sausage rolls, just like home. I excitedly bought out the store and we were in rapture eating them for
lunch and feeling homesick.. quite pathetic really!
From here we climbed over the Great Divide at Crowsnest Pass, following the route of the Canadian
Pacific Rail. The rivers to the west of the divide flow to the Pacific, and those to the east flow into
Hudson’s Bay. The pass was intriguing and a monument to Nineteenth Century courage and
ingenuity. We spent quite a while at the ruins of the Leitch Coal Mine on the pass. Set up, of course
by Scots, it folded by the end of the First World War, Interestingly the partner was one William
Hamilton, married to Ellen and with a daughter, Jessie Hamilton, who rode her pony around the mine.
Nearby, there was an interpretive centre on the Frank slide disaster, when much of this town was
buried by the landslide. Times were tough.
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We wended our way up the scenic route west of the Rockies, to Kootenay National Park above
Lake Louise. Delightful! We entered the park and travelled through deep gorges replete with Bighorn
or Rocky Mountain sheep, high mountain passes and perfect lakes such as Olive Lake fed by a spring
and crystal clear.
That night in the park, Daggi and I both awoke at about 2-00 AM to an inhuman growling or
grunting. I thought it may have been a bear or a moose very nearby. It wasn’t of course. It was just
Jessie snoring!
We did however hear wolves howling at night. Packs of wolves move up and down the corridor from
Jasper to Yellowstone, but they are apparently still a bit gun-shy as the odd US farmer still takes pot
shots at them. Similar unspeakable (c.f. Oscar Wilde: “The Unspeakable hunting the Uneatable”)
individuals come up from the US to hunt grizzly bears here. The Canadian government does charge
them a small fortune for licences, and claim to use some of this money for conservation.
Then Lake Louise! How do I begin? It’s just SO wonderfful! Anyway I’ve run out of puff and we
have to go off to Banff to find a Laundromat, so more on that in the next installment.
Oooroo for now
MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota XV!

(PROBABLY OUR LAST CORRESPONDENCE ON OUR SAGA AROUND NORTH AMERICA)
(19-23 August 2001)
When we were still fifteen hundred miles from Minneapolis in the middle of British Columbia we
realised that we have to give Vancouver a miss and start back south. Everybody is philosophical
about this, as you can only see so much, and we have seen plenty. We have to leave something for
next time!
The Canadian Rockies! Where can I begin. This has been the absolute highlight of all the places we
have travelled. Daggi regrets somewhat not having done this first and spending more time here. With
plenty of bushwalking in a “gob smacking”, very special and idyllic setting, and a decided lack of
“development” or so-called progress, it has been wonderful and we are rather sad to be leaving to
return to reality. We have seen nearly every wild creature on the walking tracks including black bears.
Although we have not actually seen wolves, we heard them. We have climbed magnificent, nearly
four thousand metre mountains and walked glaciers.
If parts of the US were nine and a half out of ten, then the Canadian Rockies have to be fifteen out of
ten. At the risk of “stirring the possum” again, all in the name of free speech, here goes! (Gee, but I
can’t keep my mouth shut).. unlike the Canadians, AmericanWildlife Management has a much harder
time due to problems with the attitudes of SOME Americans who seem to have the ear of “the powers
that be” who seem deaf to a much larger sensible silent majority. The big exception seems to be the
wonderful Yellowstone National Park, but plentiful wildlife here creates other problems because of
greater human population in the US than in Canada.
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Quite simply, the attitude of this noisy minority of Americans to Wildlife (generally) is quite
backward. There seems a lack of democratic will to change and an indulgence of the personal liberty
of the hunters at the expense of wild creatures. When you drive through Wyoming, the roadside
warning signs are not “Wildlife Crossing”, but rather “Game Crossing”. It’s a psychological
difference.
There are plenty of examples: everywhere the pawnshop and the gun shop; the hunting outfitters; the
taxidermist; animal parts from stuffed alligators and bears to deer antlers and an exploitative frontier
mentality which has little place in a developed and modern society. You see this a little in Canada
too, but to a much lesser extent, and they apologise for it, saying for example, that these stuffed
animals are from an earler time when attitudes to wildlife were different! Hunters are given game
permits by greedy state governments here (and in Canada as well for the almighty dollar.. but they are
mostly hunters from the US) I have heard some of these individuals use spurious excuses like the deer
will starve to death in winter so it’s better to shoot them. At best I shrink away in quiet disgust, and
on a generous day feel sorry for their lack of enlightenment.
Even the Parks people seem to allow culls and let dogs and powerboats into some pristine areas.
Jessie suggested to one Park's person that if they restricted powerboats, the loons might come back.
The parks people in the US have had to restock wild populations south of the border from Canada.
Between hunters and these people being indulged by the authorities in the name of liberty and
revenue; and the encroaching of the housing requirements of two hundred million people, this is no
wonder.
The “best practice” the US might learn from with Wildlife management is probably their Northern
neighbour. Unfortunately most Americans seem to know little about Canada! But as President
Kennedy said, “the boundary between Canada and the United States is a typically human creation; it
is physically invisible, geologically illogical, militarily indefensible and emotionally inescapable.”
Apologies for my candour, but as you can see this has got “under my skin” and it can be a little
annoying and upsetting at times.
Glacier National Park, on the US side of the border is a magic place and really is a credit to the US
National Parks Service. In Glacier National Park we had walked four hours to Avalanche Falls and
Lake. I think I told you how wonderful this was in my last letter: the classic Sir Edward Landseer
image of the wild deer on the shoreline of a mirror lake surrounded by towering glacial mountains.
One of the few indescribably superlative images in your life that prints, like a photograph, indelibly
on your brain.
The seven-hour walk at Waterton National Park, up the mountain to Goat Lake was also good
preparation for our future walks, and how wonderful they would be.
Lightning strikes had created forest fires, so we were lucky to be amongst the last vehicles through
the beautiful Kootenay National Park before they closed the road for several days. After crossing the
Kootenay National Park, through one of the extraordinary passes that cuts the Great Divide, we
arrived in Lake Louise. It is everything that it is cracked up to be! The Trailer Park was well
appointed, catered for hundreds, and was run by Canada Parks. Even then we had to queue to get a
place, and had to be lucky! A wonderful idea was the free busses that ran from here to the village and
lake to avoid congestion on the roads. Our neighbours in the camp sight were a very nice older
couple, Gill and Anne from New Brunswick driving a 45-foot motor home. We had a few drinks with
them and they highlighted what we already knew, that we need to see the Canadian Maritime
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Provinces one-day. We will be back to Canada! (if Daggi goes missing one day, we are sure to
find her in Banff or Lake Louise climbing a mountain!)
Gill and Anne highlight one of the great attractions of travelling in Canada. You actually meet
people! Unlike the US, with its crazy exchange rate, people travel in Canada, and the nice thing is to
make the acquaintance of someone you have met earlier further along the track (trail). (We met Gill
and Anne later again at Banff).
We met numerous Australians travelling and working in Canada and so many very friendly
Canadians, many of whom have been to Australia. You also meet some very interesting Americans.
These tend not to only be the family groups who have come up for a cheap holiday, but older people
as well, who are quite travelled themselves.
In Banff we met Alex and his wife, in a new 26-foot RV. They were from Memphis Tennessee, and
had been coming to holiday in the Canadian Rockies for ten years. Alex was an eighty-one year old
retired lawyer with a healthy fatalism and sense of irony, who had had several heart attacks and the
big “C”. He was still full of beans and a mad keen photographer.
They were Jewish (although, unlike his wife, Alex did not seriously practise his religion). He told a
wonderful story about one of his lawyer acquaintances who followed one of those Christian
evangelising sects where you get “a bronze star in heaven for an ordinary conversion, and a gold star
for converting a Jew”. Anyway, this fellow kept badgering old Alex to come to his church and be
“saved” (this fellow of course, claiming to have the correct and exclusive solution to the Hereafter).
After a while he became quite a pest with his badgering so Alex fixed him! He asked this fellow if he
had any children, to which he replied that he had two lovely and god-fearing teenagers. Alex then
said that he had a friend he had met through the law who lived in one of the rougher areas of
Memphis. This fellow was a Black Muslim who conducted education programmes for young people
at the Mosque during the week. Alex said that if he could get a written invitation from the Mosque
inviting the fellows kids to attend and they went, HE would go to the fellow’s church. The response
was…”ARE YOU MAD”, to which the old fellow replied, “Why? How the shoe hurts when it is on
the other foot”. Apparently the young evangelist was too dim witted to understand the lesson on
hypocrisy he had been dealt, but he at least stopped pestering Alex. We met this interesting couple
again at Bow Falls, Banff.
Lake Louise, Banff and to a lesser extent, Jasper, are just so full of tourists. You hear just so many
languages spoken. Americans and Germans are well represented, but the biggest group seems to be
the Japanese. The Canadians cater brilliantly for them, going so far as employing Japanese shop
assistants in most of the stores. These Japanese make up about ten percent of the residents here! There
is just so much work available in tourism that, had circumstances been different, it would have been a
wonderful opportunity for us to make some money so our trip wouldn’t have been so financially
disasterous.
Just like at home in Queensland the Japanese arrive. They get but a few days vacation, and fly into
Calgary or Vancouver to spend it in the Canadian Rockies. The Japanese dress in designer walking
gear that you see them wearing on Mount Fuji, and Japanese guides employed by Parks Canada
shepherd little groups of them on short walks around Lake Louise like Border Collies. They don’t go
much further than the beautiful Lake Louise Chalet/Chateau.
The Chateau is chocolate-box picturesque, with Japanese weddings out the front, and luxury shopping
inside. One of the more interesting shops was “Sergeant Preston’s Mounty Shop.” Quite a scandal
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was created a few years ago when this national “icon”, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, sold
for about seven million dollars their marketing rights to Walt Disney. So today Disney owns these
stores, and at Lake Louise at least, hires Japanese shop assistants to run them.
At Lake Louise we walked! Daggi and I took about six hours to climb up above the lake to the Plain
of Six Glaciers. On or return Daggi took another two-hour detour up to Lake Agnes. I decide not to
add to my already long walk and return to the Chalet. Raymond had Christened Daggi on the walking
track, “the Energizer Bunny”, because she just goes on and on!
On the trail (track) we met an American fellow on vacation who was an optical fibre expert and who
worked for Bill Gates in Oregon. He had just flown in from a week in Alaska where he learnt all
about bears. He was panicked and wouldn’t walk any further up the track, as a ranger in Alaska had
told him that bears eat berries along the track, and he pointed out to us that the berries were gone
from the bushes. He also pointed out the fresh bear dropping on the track. Gently, and trying not to
fall over in a giggling heap on the ground, we pointed out that the dropping were actually fresh horse
manure as the track was also a horse trail, and that birds have been known to eat berries. Although he
was still doubtful and said he had to catch a aeroplane back home from Calgary in just two hours, he
continued on the walk after we assured him it was quite safe, with all the people on the track. He may
have known the difference between a megabyte and a kilobyte, but he didn’t certainly know the
difference between bear shit and horse shit. I’m happy to say that he was perhaps a little wiser having
met us!
I can’t afford to be too smug myself however! Smart Alec me a few days later went to the wonderful
Cascade Gardens in Banff, where I saw whom I supposed to be a Japanese couple in one of the
beautiful gazebos there getting wedding photos taken. With my six words of polite Japanese, I
inquired as to whether I may take their photograph: “Konban wa, Sumimasen, Photo Okay?”. In
perfect English they answered, “sure, it was all right, but (grinning), we’re not Japanese!” The guy
from Oregon may have had identification problems, but so did I!
From beautiful Lake Louise, we went on to Banff. How wonderful! Again full of Japanese tourists,
but plenty of other nationalities including Australians! The little bars, restaurants and tourist traps
were all interesting. The Cascade Gardens above the town are very special indeed. The Banff Springs
Chalet near Bow Falls was a wonderfully imposing early twentieth century structure, but so touristed,
we couldn’t even find a park.
We visited one of the finest little museums that any of us had ever seen: The Whyte Museum of
Banff. Apart from fascinating exhibits on local history, they had a special exhibition on North
American Bears for “The Year of the Bear” brought there from the University of Minnesota. Most of
the stuffed specimens were “illegally killed” or “killed in defense of life and property” (“..he’s
comin’ right for us!”).
It was well that Daggi and Jessie took note of what to do if you meet a bear in the wild! More on this
later..
Just out of Banff we drove to Lake Minnewanka. Although it is very beautiful it was really just
because of its name! Locals understand the connotation put on this by Australians and Brits and insist
that it be pronounced “Minni-WONKER”. I think it sounds more like something out of an Austin
Powers movie. Interestingly there were no “Lake Minnewanka” signs anywhere. Either they had been
souvenired or someone was afraid they would be. Instead, I sought out some postcards containing the
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name for my friends. I said that I would probably only need two, to which Raymond replied, ..”and
one wouldn’t need any postage!” Thanks Raymond.
Then the “Icefields Parkway”, north to Jasper. This was probably the penultimate part of our journey.
Parks Canada bill this as “the Most Beautiful Highway in the World”. A big claim, but certainly not
far of the mark. The Icefields Parkway passes two hundred and thirty-odd kilometres through four
superlative National Parks: Kootenay, Banff, Yoho and Jasper National Parks. These form a critical
link in the Y2Y (or Yukon to Yellowstone) wildlife corridor. The magnificent glacial mountains,
climbing to nearly four thousand metres, the alpine valleys and swift rivers defy adequate description.
The south of the parkway is fenced to protect wildlife and the Canadians Parks Service has
constructed tunnels and bridges for animals to pass safely. These concrete bridges are most
impressive, at over a million dollars each, they are wide, fenced and covered with turf, vegetation and
trees. Apart from bonafide researchers, humans are forbidden on them.
A real highlight of the Icefields Parkway was the Athabasca Glacier. This glacier is part of the
Columbia Ice Shelf, which is the lowest part of the Arctic ice sheet. It is accessible to all by special,
wide wheeled bus tours. We walked. Disclaimers warn you to be careful, as in 1994 a tourist fell
down a crevasse and froze to death before he could be rescued. We went carefully! It was
overwhelming with its sheer scale, alien beauty and the melting glacial streams.
A century ago all the numerous glaciers here extended much further. They have greatly receded
possibly through global warming.
From here we drove north towards Jasper and visited the impressive Athabasca Falls. Plenty of
tourists and buses. By the falls, a Canadian character was dashing off acrylic “sketches” of the falls
and surrounds. Each took him about half and hour or so, and he would do about four a day and sell
each to the tourists for eighty dollars. Not a bad little earner.
Jasper was also an great little town geared to tourism and the Canadian Pacific Railway, Luxurious
looking railway carriages with bubble window roofs and names like “The American Orient Express”
were met by buses at the station to take the tourists to the resort hotels. We stayed in the RV Park
which was better! Really. It was very comfortable and wild elk (mother and calf) paid us a visit to
Jessie’s particular delight the following morning.
You really see wildlife in this part of North America. The farthest north that we got was Mietta Hot
Springs past Banff. These are delightful thermal springs that feed open air swimming pools set in the
most idyllic mountain setting a little reminiscent of spas in rural Japan (also with plenty of Japanese
and other tourists). Admission to the pool is very reasonably priced and there is a wonderful little
café. On our drive to Mietta, we saw several bull elk of various ages by the road, complete with a
tourist traffic jam of shutter clickers. I tried to keep at least two tourists between me and the elk, and
save one picture for the classic action shot when the elk got really annoyed! It actually bluff charged
one silly lady who went too close. The car park of the springs had a herd of mooching bighorn sheep
who posed for photographs more willingly!
Raymond and I decided to let Jessie and “The Energizer Bunny” (Daggi) go on their four to six hour
(they took four) mountain walk to Sulpher Ridge, high up above Mietta Springs whilst we would laze
by the pool! This was quite okay really, but Jessie and Daggi were in for a real treat, according to the
locals, seen perhaps by one in a hundred travellers.
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Only after a ten minute walk along the track they saw a black bear cub on the track. Luckily,
having seen the Whyte Museum exhibition on bears, they knew what to do. Mamma bear had to be
nearby, and after a few minutes she appeared with two other cubs. The first little cub, curious,
ventured down the path towards our girls. Mum sniffed the air. The normal reaction at this point
would have been for Daggi and Jessie (now furiously operating the camera) to be shocked into
stunned silence. This would have been positively the worst thing to do, apparently because the bear
equates silence with the stalking behaviour of a potential predator. But, now educated “bear experts”,
our girls knew what to do! You literally talk to the bear in a non-threatening way. As the curious little
cub wandered towards them down the track, Daggi spoke to its mum saying something like: “Go
away.. take your baby away, we don’t want your cub!” So she did. Calmly our little family of bears
turned around and wandered away down the track. Jessie took about a day to stop talking about this
amazing experience!
From Mietta we returned to Jasper and again crossed the Kootenay National Park going over the
Jasper and the Yellowhead Pass and down the magnificent valleys past Mount Robson and the
McKenzie River Valley of British Columbia. The McKenzie river is named for Alexander McKenzie,
a Scot, and the first to cross Canada and North America in the 1790s, nearly twenty years before the
much more celebrated Lewis and Clark (or were they Lois and Clark?).
Finally we made our crossing back into Washington State at Oroville. We managed to find quite a
good little Duty Free shop on the Canadian side, and made the most of the cheaper fuel prices on the
US side.
Then to the town Republic, Washington, with mock Western architecture, and establishments like
“The Loose Blue Moose Bar” and “Billy-Bob’s Pawn and Guns” (that’s “pawn” with an “aw”!). The
surrounding countryside was beautiful, and we stayed in an idyllic State Park called “Bonaparte
Lake” (another republican!) We met some very friendly locals and shared a drink with them. And the
lake had loons!
Loons are almost magical as they are ethereal. Their sound is haunting, almost like a wolf’s howl, and
they are shy and allusive, which makes them all the more appealing. A family will claim a lake and
nest there for generations. There is something “other-worldly” about them.
When we first camped in the wilds of North America, there was something that I missed. It was just
too quiet. What was missing was the morning greeting of the magpies, and the evening kookaburras. I
think the presence of the wonderful little loon now more than makes up for that.
We then wended our way through Spokane Washington, into Idaho, Missoula Montana and then back
into Idaho towards Jackson Hole and the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone.
That’s another story indeed!!
You’ve probably heard of the vehicle “mishap” by now. The following is the letter that I sent to all
our American friends on a “need to know” basis, whilst keeping Australia in the dark as we didn’t
want to unnecessarily worry them until things were sorted.
VEHICLE MISHAP..
We've run into a little bad luck four days from home. We also might count it as good luck as someone
was looking after us! Please don't stress, and PLEASE DON'T let anyone in Australia know yet
(including Dave, as it will get back to our family there!). I don't want to worry them unnecessarily
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until we need to.
Coming down Teton Pass into Jackson Hole Wy. our brakes melted and we ended up going fifty
yards up an emergency truck ramp. The vehicle did not tip and sustained no damage apart from front
tyres and all brakes! Daggi, who was driving was the only injury. She sustained a compound fracture
of her right wrist (called a "Smith Fracture" apparently). She was operated on last night here at JH St
John's Hospital, and had to have two pins inserted and there being observed for how long we don't yet
know. The pins will stay for two months and she will really be out of action for that long. The main
thing is that she is in good spirits and is okay. The car is under repair.
We really are okay and will come through this all right, so don't worry at your end. This is just to let
you know that we may be a little late back to Minneapolis and Hidden Oaks MS. I will try to keep
you posted via email.
We are okay!
Fond Regards
Rowan (and family)
Every good story has an introduction, climax and denouement. Teton Pass. Jackson Hole, Wyoming
USA is a bit the climax to the story of our odyssey…
God, Fate, Kismet, Causality, Khama, Chance, Luck or Chaos Theory: it’s all a bit the same! Who
really knows?.. but it wasn’t Our Time and we live to tell the tale, not forgetting that Someone must
have been looking after us. As I look at our photos taken from the top of the pass before “Mr Toad’s
incredible ride”(that people pay big money for in amusement parks), I am reminded that Life has no
“fast rewind” and it can be all over in the batting of an eye-lid. You only get one chance. We, in the
end, were very lucky indeed to survive this little adventure!
Causality without blame is a good way to go. So here I go…
1. Teton Pass cautions a 10% grade and recommends trucks to use a lower gear.(we did!) It’s more
than 10%. Probably over 12%. Warnings are not adequate for people who don’t know the road
and even locals get into trouble. It was far steeper than any other of the numerous passes that we
had travelled without problems elsewhere in the Rockies.
2. Teton Pass is notorious for many accidents and fatalities, including many locals. ( a fellow, two
days before us went over the other side, wasn’t discovered for seventeen hours, and ended up a
quadriplegic. Most truckies (truckers) die on these ramps, which are there really just to protect
other road users!)
3. Later we found out that our rear drum brakes were leaking brake fluid, tranferring all braking to
the front discs.
4. Our handbrake didn’t work, as (we thought) who really needs it when you have an automatic with
a Park gear? Save money!
5. We have a three speed automatic weighing at least two and a half tons, and not more useful (with
regard to engine braking) four speed auto.
6. The vehicle is not a manual transmission. Then the problem could not have occurred.
7. I was always under the impression that First gear was merely to start a vehicle, not as an engine
brake as this would rev the motor too much. We were perhaps too concerned with nursing an old
motor and not doing major damage to it by using First. Maybe we were misinformed.. I don’t
know. Second, however in a three speed auto was too fast for the conditions.
8. The brakes and second gear were not enough to slow the vehicle.
9. The brakes pads melted, the brake rotors became red hot and the brake fluid boiled.
10. Although we tried, selection of first gear under these circumstances is nearly impossible unless
the vehicle is nearly stationary. It’s too late otherwise.
11. Split seconds increased momentum to (the police estimated) fifty-plus miles an hour.
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12. Steering eventually became uncontrollable and the steering wheel slapped back with such
force that it sent Daggi’s arm into the air. Like a stock whip breaking her wrist. There was no
direct impact of her wrist on any object, and it snapped in midair!
It is all a salutary lesson how such things can happen. All I know is that life is fleeting and we have to
learn lessons from all this if possible. Or maybe we should have stayed home in Bloomington and
hidden under the bed, peering out only to vicariously watch something like this all happen to
someone else on the Discovery Channel! (NOT!)
All I can say is thank goodness for the emergency gravel runaway truck ramp. It took sixty yards, and
BRILLIANT and heroic driving from Daggi to halt the vehicle safely. When the steering wheel
swung back it cost her her broken wrist and two months of discomfort, but she “saved our bacon”.
Another bit of luck was that our great old RV seems to look after itself and us. It held together
remarkably well and the only damage seemed to be with the brakes and the wheel alignment. Had the
RV leant over a few more inches it would have rolled onto it’s side, but thankfully it didn’t. Apart
from that the only internal damage was a favourite whisky glass which broke in the shelf and a few
objects which were thrown around.
Average Americans who stopped, witnesses to the accident, demonstrated the generosity of this
country at its best and called for help on their mobile phones. The Wyoming State Troopers were
wonderful, and went “above and beyond”. As for medical care for Daggi, it was second to none and if
it had to happen, Jackson Hole has some of the best orthodontic surgeons in the world. They look
after the US Olympic Ski Team and Jackson Hole is after all a major ski resort in winter. The surgeon
who looked after Daggi, a Dr Rork, has worked in Germany and Austria in the Alps and has been
invited and is itching to get back to Mount Buller (Australia) with his son Buller again. She is still in
for a lot more pain, discomfort and inconvenience however and must now get used to being treated
like the Queen of Sheba and not lift a finger!
Now we have to pay the bills. Insurance should help, but “life wasn’t meant to be easy” and it really
is insignificant considering the horrible potential of this event.
23/8
Still stuck in Jackson Hole. It’s a bit like “Ground Hog Day” as this is our third day to wake up in the
car park of "“Flat Automotive Creek” (how their sign reads.. actually “Flat Creek Automotive”. What
a nightmare. The scheduled work waits to be done
1/9
Were back “home” in Bloomington thank goodness! We’ve now completed our fifteen thousand mile
odyssey, covering twenty five US states and four Canadian provinces! Given our recent adventure, I
haven’t really kept up to date with this final letter describing our journeys, so I shall try to scratch my
brain to do so retrospectively.
If there is one abiding impression of our recent days, it is just how generous and wonderful our
friends have been in our time of troubles. Total strangers likewise have been so open hearted and
helpful.
Daggi spent two nights in St John’s Hospital, Jackson Hole after her hour operation. Who knows
what they charged, but thank goodness our insurance picked up the tab. Likewise the vehicle repairs
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were picked up by our insurance at a cost of $80 US per hour labour. (obscene!). We did get free
camping for three nights next to the garage with access to power however!
Jackson Hole is so expensive that it is known even to other Wyoming locals as “S… Hole”. It is
supposed to be the most expensive and wealthy county in the US. Nurses and teachers in the town
can’t afford to live there. One ranch of four hundred plus acres was on the market for $75 million.
Harrison Ford has a ranch next door to it, and is held in high esteem by the locals, as a “local” who is
“down to earth” and contributes to the community. He uses his personal helicopter to aid in local
search and rescue. “Harry”, as he is known, is seen in Kmart and gives his occupation as a carpenter.
He evidently still makes his own furniture. He began his career building sets, when he was
“discovered” at Paramount. Arnold Schwarzenegger apparently, in contrast, is not well liked. He tried
to buy a whole mountain near the town, and had a public tantrum when the owners refused. Vice
President Dick Cheney has a house in Jackson Hole, as does Debbie Reynolds.
Too rich for our blood, both literally and metaphorically, so we finally “got out of jail” (that’s what it
felt like!) and departed Jackson Hole. Before we left, we tried to make the best out of our visit and
found it to be an interesting, quite picturesque little town, trading heavily on tourism and the Western
myth. Visiting the local Internet Café to let everybody know of our plight, it was great to get an e-
mail from our friend Paul Ahern, saying something to the effect of,..”if we made it to Jackson Hole
(the irony did not escape me), make sure that we visited the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar, sit on the
saddles for barstools and order Rocky Mountain Oysters”. We passed on the last! For the uninitiated
they are sweetmeat not available from cows! So we went there, and it was an anthropological
experience indeed, right down to the bison skulls in glass cases; Western murals and a stuffed grizzly
that was said to have been killed by hand by a local identity who dispatched the bear by biting it in
the jugular. The bouncer, complete with Stetson, though he could hardly string two words together,
was the Western stereotype personified.
Jackson Hole has an interesting town square, complete with entrance arches made from shedded deer
antlers picked up in the forest (not slaughtered. Only the pronghorn antelope, rocky mountain sheep
and goats are unfortunate enough to have horn that are not detachable). Tourists are driven around the
square in a Wells Fargo horse drawn coach. The town pays for a free bus service, which we came to
be very thankful for.
From Jackson Hole, we travelled to the Teton National Park, with their peaks rising abruptly to nearly
four thousand metres. We saw cute little Snow Shoe Rabbits complete with strange looking white
feet, who turn completely white in winter, hopping around our charming campsite that night.
Then to Yellowstone! My cynical nature made me want to doubt the hype about the oldest and first
National Park in the world (1872). After all I’d been to Rotorua and seen thermal areas before, hadn’t
I! Old Faithful geyser and all that, trumpeted as they have been, as so amazing. How wrong I was,
and my cynicism quickly turned into wonder. The place is everything it is cracked up to be. Sure, the
Old Faithful area was crowded with visitors. Nevertheless, unlike Rotorua, the thermal are is
extensive, with unique and discrete areas, all with their particular beauty, separated so that you can
avoid the masses if you wish. And as for Old Faithful, it is amazing, erupting a hundred and fifty feet
every eighty minutes or so. Many of these thermal areas are a little like Dante’s Inferno, with unusual
and stark beauty. The camera worked overtime. (I’ve now taken something like two thousand
photographs on our trip with no processing cost..) Thank goodness for digital cameras.
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Yellowstone has plenty of wildlife too. The hot springs are a magnet for them, particularly in
winter. We saw wild elk and plenty of bison on our way out of the park, wandering along the road in
large herds.
There are always two sides to a story.
Outside Old Faithful some young people were protesting the treatment of the bison by the National
Parks. I have already talked about the fear of bruscillosis spreading from the wild herd to surrounding
cattle ranches, being a pretext to shoot bison by the National Parks and the State governments. They
were complaining that it was still going on. US Parks had an interesting disclaimer posted nearby
stating that this group were exercising their First Amendment Constitutional Rights and their opinions
were not endorsed by the National Parks. Quite the understatement!
Later we heard the “other” side from a very wonderful man we met, who helped us later on on our
trip. How he did this, I shall tell you later. His name: John Hansen, and he was a real Wyoming
rancher who, though he claimed to be “just a cowboy” (and he certainly dressed as such), was rather
more than this. Apparently the problem stems from the fact that the Yellowstone area was the
summer area for wildlife, and is just too cold in winter. So Bison etc stray onto the surrounding
farms. John operates Australian electric fencing on his property, and suggested that money for a
similar, larger system might be spent by National Parks, and Parks should feed the animals in winter.
All of course meaning more money. There is never an easy answer.
Reluctantly leaving Yellowstone after travelling the beautiful Firehole Gorge byway, we passed the
very impressive Buffalo Bill Dam (named for another collapsable American hero, William Cody)
which reminded me of a smaller version of the Ord River Dam in Western Australia. Then we
continued east through the stark and breathtaking Bighorn National Park in Wyoming. Some of the
grades on these mountain roads were rather frightening after our experience, but the RV handled them
well (or did it?.. more on this later!). US Parks were reintroducing the Bighorn sheep from which the
park is named, as they had been wiped out by past hunting!
Blissfully driving east about sixteen mile past the little town of Buffalo Wyoming, we notice smoke
belching from the back of the vehicle. Pulling over, Raymond, mechanical genius that he is, quickly
located and diagnosed the problem. We had lost our automatic transmission fluid. Why? Due to our
previous mishap we ended up discovering after Flat Creek Automotive had done their expensive
repair job on the brakes etc. that the vehicle’s radiator had been holed by the gravel in the truck ramp.
So we had to front up to Jackson Hole’s “Bob’s Radiator”. Bob was a nice bloke, and a real character,
who seemed to be the only resident of Jackson Hole who did not overcharge. He did however make a
potentially devastating and life-threatening error. The radiator on the RV was new and deliberately
outsized to prevent overheating. It only needed a little welding. But because it was so large it was
hard to remove and to put back. So old Bob forced the steel pipe carrying the autotrans fluid down
next to the flywheel. Therefore whilst we were blissfully descending the 10% grades of BigHorn
National Park, the fly wheel was grinding away at this pipe, gradually laying it open. I think someone
was again looking after us, as it held out until we hit the flat country. The thought of having no
automatic transmission fluid on those steep descents doesn’t bare thinking about.
Again we had to spend the night on the side of the road after fifteen thousand miles of near perfect
performance of the vehicle (really only one fanbelt broken and a little wear and tear). The following
morning local drivers were wonderful, as we hitched to the car parts place in Buffalo. Raymond and I
bought a pipe cutter, and extra long replacement hose and clamps (to take up the part of the pipe to be
amputated) and some autotrans fluid. It was John Hansen who picked us up on the return. What a
50
man! Dressed in his Stetson, with his Australian Shepherd cattle dog, he couldn’t do enough for
us. He brought us soft drink from his nearby farm, helped us with our repair and invited us home to
take showers and even made us some lunch. His farm could have been in outback New South Wales.
The terrain, climate and indeed the generosity of the locals are very similar . He is a marvellous man.
We stayed long enough to check our e-mail on his computer and to meet his wife. After a reluctant
farewell and copious thank yous, we were off again. This time with a vehicle with a totally clean bill
of health, unlike poor Daggi.
That night we found our way the America’s first proclaimed National Monument, the Devil’s Tower,
of Spielberg’s “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” fame. I half expected to see Richard Dreyfus
scaling the hights to meet a UFO. The National Parks people are a little snooty about the film,
wanting to promote the educational and geological importance of the place rather than some film
made way back in 1977 (yes, twenty-five years ago!) When I enquired if there was any info on the
making of the film, the ranger suggested that I asked at the tourist places outside the park!
The Devil’s Tower is an impressive place. It is a large volcanic plug that seems to rise high from
nothing out of the surrounding hills and forests. Its shape is like a very symmetrical cone with a flat
top inhabited by hawks and eagles. Like Ayres Rock (Uluru), it changes colour in the most
impressive way depending on the time of day.
The next day, finally we left Wyoming, and drove into South Dakota. We received a most friendly
welcome at the Visitors’ Centre on the highway with plenty of freebees and information. Then we
detoured down the Spearfish Canyon byway in the Black Hills National Park to see some wonderful
waterfalls and a few of the sights associated with that great film “Dances With Wolves”. Kevin
Costner was no where to be seen however.
The Black Hills are quite special. Apparently the hunting grounds here were so good for the Indians
that the Sioux kicked out the Crow and other original inhabitants only a century or so before the
Battle of Little Big Horn, showing that it wasn’t only the Whites who stole land!.
Then we arrived in Deadwood South Dakota. An anthropologically amazing town trading on the very
thin mythology of the old West. The aspect of the town is not unlike Walhalla, Victoria only the town
is larger. The surrounding scenery is similar rugged mountain forests and it was a gold town. Here
however the similarity ends as Deadwood is primarily now a tourist town. Down one side of Main
Street are numerous casinos trading on the old gambling past and bring money back into the
community for restoration etc. On the other side of the street are the tourist traps and bars. There is
even a mock brothel complete with scantily dressed mannequins adorning the upper windows. The
only real claim to posterity is that it was at Deadwood that the thug Wild Bill Hickock was shot
playing “the Dead Man’s Hand” in Saloon Number Ten. And there is the plaque to prove it!
And they of course have Boot Hill, where the gunslingers are buried. (Most of them really died of old
age or from shot guns in the back at close range. The Dime Novels of “Deadwood Dick” (who never
really existed) popularised the mythology of the draw-down on Main Street at fifty paces in the 1890s
after it was all over. Black powder revolvers could hardly shoot that far accurately.)
Up and down the street ran the busses decked out like trolleys (Trams) of the period full of Senior
Citizens. Then walking down the street I saw him. It was Wild Bill himself, dressed in full regalia
including twin pearl handled replica revolvers (he said he didn’t get to shoot according to the plot!)
And he was the dead ringer of the old photographs. I asked if I could photograph him but said I
understood that he wasn’t supposed to smile. He said this was okay. Then I enquired of this actor,
51
how many times a day that he was required to get shot in the back of the head for the tourists. He
said four, and that it was a living! So that was Deadwood, and I and met Wild Bill!
Impressive was the gigantic unfinished statue of Crazy Horse pointing from the mountain to the
surrounding Black Hills and saying something like, where my ancestors are buried, this is my land
(even though the Sioux pinched the land themselves.) The carving is much bigger than the celebrated
Mount Rushmore, and was the life’s work of a Boston Polish-American sculptor. His children have
taken over and but will take years to finish it, but they are getting plenty of tourist dollars already,
overcharging admission in the wonderful way of American entrepreneurs. We save our hard gotten
money and photographed it from the road!
Then Mount Rushmore, and here it seems, totalitarian-style architectural monumentalism meets
Disneyland and marketing kitsch.
They call Mt Rushmore a National “Shrine”, whereas the term is not even used for the Arlington
National Cemetery in Washington.
We parked in the free carpark as , since National Monuments are supposed to be free, there was a
parking charge close to the monument that we avoided. A ranger vehicle, complete with a rack of
pump action riot shotguns (why on earth these were needed beats me) stopped and the fellow said we
could park where we did if we moved a little off the road.
The statues of Washington, Jefferson, T. Roosevelt and Lincoln, or “The Presidents” was quite an
impressive thing although somewhat smaller than we expected. Yet they very nearly were Wild Bill,
Annie Oakley etc., as it was originally proposed that they would be figures from the Old West (the
other great US myth). This myth was considered not worthy enough nor strong enough. The idea for
the presidents only came in the 1920s.
I think more endearing, enduring and internationally significant American icons might have been
perhaps Daffy Duck, Micky Mouse, Scoobie Doo and Bugs Bunny. Apparently, so the current joke
goes, they couldn’t add Bill Clinton because it would require the sculpturing of two faces.
Nonetheless, it’s a very imposing monument.
The surrounding structures, such as the marble colonnades on the approach are very Stalinist Russia
in architectural style, being from the same period. In the forecourt were all fifty state flags and when
they entered to Union. This was impressive. We of course found Minnesota.
Raymond jokingly said that today, Mount Rushmore wouldn’t have even been built. The
Congressional Committees couldn’t agree; the Greenies would want an environmental impact study
and Indians would protest about the desecration of a sacred site; the Unions would want penalty rates;
there would be cost over-runs and the left would probably object to the subject matter. The National
Parks would need to seek private sponsorship from McDonalds to be able to afford to do it!
Nevertheless we felt that it was importance to see Mount Rushmore. On the way out, we could have
taken a 10% grade, complete with decent warning sign for trucks and RVs, one and a half miles, or
do an eighteen mile gentler detour and backtrack to cover the same distance. We chose the latter!
Our next stop was at a private camping ground near Rapid City, at Peidmont Wyoming, which where
was billed the “World’s Largest Petrified Forest”. Let me tell you, that it’s no where near the largest
compared to the Pinnacles National Park in Cevantes, Western Australia. Owned by a private family
52
and run well by them, it was a good testament to American private enterprise. This country is still
a land of opportunity for people to make money with hard work and a good idea. The petrification
was well explained, there was a good little museum and the hundreds of thousand year old specimens
were fascinating. One ancient stone log sat next to a modern tree in curious juxtaposition. Many logs
had been strangely fractured by the earth‘s ancient upthrusting upheavals, so they looked as though
someone had run a chainsaw through them!.
Then we were on the home stretch. We detoured through the South Dakota Badlands National Park,
with its stark, almost moonscape of brilliant coloured canyons and desert. We finally crossed the wide
Missouri River, and left the West behind us.
Daggi wanted to do a detour to De Smet South Dakota just before we re-entered Minnesota. Though
I’d never read the books nor seen any of the TV series ( they’re a bit “girlie” for me), it was all about
America’s version of Jeannie Gunn’s “We of the Never Never”: Laura Ingalls Wilder’s “The Little
House on the Prairie”. Again the site was an enterprising example of private ownership run by a very
nice family. Daggi bought the books to help her through her coming months of “house arrest” with
her wrist, and Jessie went on the excellent tour. Like a small Sovereign Hill or Emu Bottom historical
park, it turned out to be real value for the five dollar charge. Jessie saw everything and it took over an
hour.
Back in Minnesota, to Raymond’s delight, we detoured to the hamlet of Raymond, Minnesota, where
we took photos of him by street signs saying such things as the “Farmer’s Bank of Raymond”;
“Welcome to Raymond” and “The Reformed Church of Raymond”. There was another “Raymond” in
New Hampshire that we had missed to our Raymond’s disappointment, so this made it up to him.
And now back to reality after a fantastic and eventful trip. Progressive Insurance has come good with
all aspects of our mishap, both medical and property, and the adjusters we dealt with didn’t demur
and couldn’t have done more for us. They were great. Our only regret is that our delay has made me a
little late for work, and we have missed many of the end of Summer Vacation frivolity. Oh well
them’s the breaks (sorry Daggi)
4/9/01
Back to reality! The first day at school and I started “behind the eight-ball”. Everyone was wonderful
and so supportive and I survived.
Daggi got a truer persepective on the American health system. It sucks! Some of the best practitioners
in the world are nonetheless primarily concerned with “running up the tab” on the medical insurance
companies. As I have said, in Jackson Hole she had had the very best of treatment, if very costly for
our insurance company. We found an orthopaeidic specialist firm/business in Minneapolis. They are
really just money-making, obviously highly qualified but with a greed verging on criminal
malpractice. I have heard of clinics discharging young Hispanic mothers with premature babies a day
after birth because they didn’t have insurance.
Daggi had an X-ray, then in came the thirty-something surgeon who, inspite of perfect healing of
Daggi’s injury, suggested another operation to replace the four pins (although they were doing the job
perfectly) and put a plate in. Their clinic had missed out on the lion’s share of the insurance gravy
train! They preceded to “can” the excellent treatment from Jackson Hole (remember that they look
after the US Olympic Ski team), by saying that “we” don’t do it that way! Then when queried,
bragged that they looked after the Minnesota Twins baseball and Vikings football teams. Big deal!
Anyway, when Daggi declined the operation, that was it. The surgeon walked out with scarcely a
53
word, and the nurses became decidedly perfunctory with her dressings. Thank goodness
for private enterprise! Here a mixed system of health care with a real public component as well as
private practice will never be possible because of that filthy “s” word.. “socialism” which is
misconstrued to be synonymous with real public health.
Oooroo for now

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1

MAGIC MOMENTS IN MINNESOTA

Living in the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and Saint Paul is special.

The Funny Ways of the Yanks.

Anyway, some new ones.

The Funny Ways of the Yanks.

MAGIC MOMENTS IN MINNESOTA 111

That’s roughly all the news for now.

Oooroo for now

The Funny Ways of the Yanks.

The Funny Ways of the Yanks.

All for this installment.

Rowan, Daggi, Raymond and Jessie.

MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota V

My next installment will be all about New Orleans.

The Down Side…

The Funny Ways of the Yanks.

All for this installment.

Rowan, Daggi, Raymond and Jessie.

MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota VI

What an absolute highlight!

Then to New Orleans!

All for this installment.

Rowan, Daggi, Raymond and Jessie.

The Funny Ways of the Yanks.

Randy and Chuck No. 1

RANDY: “Yo yo homie G!”

Loosely translated, the conversation might go something like this:

RANDY: “Hello my friend/mate/bosom buddy/cobber/home chum/fellow gang member.”

All for this installment.

Rowan, Daggi, Raymond and Jessie.

more “Amazing Adventures in America 5

The Funny Ways of the Yanks.

The Funny Ways of Daggi!.

(01 July 2001)

Oooroo for now

Rowan, Daggi, Raymond and Jessie.

MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota IX!

Oh, the adventures we’ve had to get here!

Today to Lancaster County via Gettysburg… Tomorrow, on to New York!

Washington DC, Gettysburg, the American Ideal and Myth-making

Oooroo for now

Rowan, Daggi, Raymond and Jessie.

All until next time

MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota X!

Daggi is currently reading an interesting history of the Shakers.

What a wonderful time in a magical place!!

(*mooky stick etc)

Oooroo for now

Rowan, Daggi, Raymond and Jessie.

MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota XI!

We are now poised for Canada.

Oooroo for now

Rowan, Daggi, Raymond and Jessie.

MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota XII!

Oooroo for now

Rowan, Daggi, Raymond and Jessie.

MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota XIII!

Then to Duluth and Minneapolis.

Oooroo for now

Rowan, Daggi, Raymond and Jessie.

MAGIC MOMENTS IN Minnesota XIV!

Oooroo for now