All the while of purging my life of my life, I had been looking online for a cat. I naively had thought I would find a cat somewhere, someplace during that past winter in the desert. Fate would bring into my life an abandoned cat at a rest stop, a Walmart parking lot or grocery store give-away of kittens. It didn’t happen. My online searching began with orange Somali cats like Sinbad. There were very few out there and I realized that this would be unfair to the cat. I’d be seeing Sinbad in it. I needed to broaden my search. Most all the cats out there available for adoption were older cats. I wanted a younger cat where we could live out our lives together. I was getting closer to the point of being able to leave the house for good and it looked as if I would be doing so without a companion to share this new chapter in my life.
As I lay in bed one evening Craigslist came to mind. I wonder if people give away animals on Craigslist? The next morning I checked it out. Yes, pets were there. The first cat that came up in my area was this year and half old female tortoiseshell. I scrolled on through the other cats on offer but kept coming back to this tortie. I called the people. Yes, she was still available. We made arrangements to meet midway between our homes at a nearby Pet Smart parking lot the next day. The young man pulled in next to the RV. I could see this dark furry cat sitting in his lap. He stepped out of his car and came around to meet me, thrusting this cutie into my arms. She melted into my caress. I asked what her name was. Rainbow Dash something. “My daughter named her” he said. Well that’s going to change real quick. As I held this sweet cat…. he dug out her litter box, bag of crap cat food and scratching arch. She lived in an apartment with two dogs and the young girl and they felt she needed more attention than they were able to give her. Right. I think there was more to it than that. I gave him the fifty dollar adoption fee, an assurance that the new owner would be sincere or so the general custom was in adopting animals from private parties. I told him she’s going to have a good life and he went back to his car and drove away. We walked into the motor home and I said to her “This is going to be your new home…Beans.”
Why Beans? Beans was a Warner Brothers Looney Tunes cartoon character back in 1935. Unfortunately at the time, Beans the Cat was introduced along with Porky Pig. Theater goers were enamored with the stuttering porker and Beans the Cat was eventually dropped a year later. In more recent times, 2011, a computer-animated western film came out released by Paramount Pictures. Rango. One of the main characters was a no-nonsense strong-willed female desert iguana by the name of Beans. I loved the character and so that is how Beans got her name. She responded to it in no time at all and pretty much has lived up to the character’s personality which includes a good-hearted devotion to the most important person in her life.
Beans spent only a few days in the house quickly making herself at home. In short time she was running around, chasing me or me chasing her. She’d arch her back, take a sideways stance with her fur up and tail fluffed then come at me with a mock attack. She was so cute and I was so happy to have her as I felt she was with me.
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The day soon came for me to drive away from my house for good. I was ready for this. Beans was not! Although she made the ride to the house on adoption day without so much as a squeak, we hadn’t gone a block that morning before she started howling. This was not good. I stopped and tried to console her, then continued on down the street. The howling only intensified. What to do? I pressed on hoping she’d calm down or wear herself out. She didn’t. I stopped again, this time to put in earplugs; that is how loud she wailed. After an hour of this she finally settled down…some.
We made it to my daughter’s house three hours later where I spent a couple days visiting. Beans seemed content to stay in the RV. The next morning we said our goodbyes and I drove away towards my new life. Beans immediately once again started in howling. No, no, this can’t be! In half the time from that first day of trauma she stopped screaming and eventually settled in on my lap. From then on, every day was fine and she never again carried on. Not even a squeak. I sincerely believed that she thought she was being driven off and that I was going to give her away. When she realized I wasn’t going to abandon her she grew confident that she would be with me always.
A few days of travel later we arrived at our first destination Poverty Flats, a free dispersed camping area near Overton, Nevada next to the Utah border. By now Beans had settled in to life on the road very well. She took to wearing Sinbad’s harness with ease and we tried some short walks. She quickly associated the harness with getting to go outside. I thought about it some as we walked and reasoned that she probably had never been in the out-of-doors once in her short life, ever. All she ever knew was that cramped apartment with two dogs and a little girl. There was a whole big wonderful world to explore. The first thing she would do upon going outside would be to roll in the dirt. Sinbad would do this but I had forgotten that. Every day she’d be filthy dirty. During the rest of the day she’d be content to sit in the door looking out, or just lying on the step enjoying the fresh air, as if she’d been living this life all of her life. After a week on the road she understood what “no” meant and would stop whatever she was doing. She grasped the meaning of “come on” and would continue on walking. She figured out how to backtrack her steps to prevent from getting hung up in the retractable leash cord. Then she discovered lizards!
Inside she developed a means of telling me she wanted food. She’d gently tap me on the arm while I would be sitting at the table. That was all. I reinforced that behavior by immediately stopping whatever I was doing to feed her good canned food and it has been working great ever since. We’re both training each other you could say. Nothing seemed to spook her. If I flip the switch to activate the slide-out and she’s on it, she stays put and goes for the ride. Her favorite place to sleep is on top of the slide-out. Sinbad never ever went up there. She trusts me to step over her not being fearful of being stepped on. I have noticed the heat from the sun affects her more than it did with Sinbad. No doubt her dark coat is the reason. On one walk she over did it and I had to carry her back home. Now she knows her limit and turns back for home when she’s gone far enough. She’s since realized the benefit of shade. One day she slipped out from her harness. Instead of running off she allowed me to come to her and put it back on. Whew! Beans had quickly lived up to be everything I had hoped for and even more in a new travel cat.
We toured nearby Valley of Fire State Park from our camp at Poverty Flats. The park is a geological wonder filled with multi-colored layers of red sandstone. A hundred-fifty million years ago the area was all shifting sands and now is compressed into these scenic rolling hills of rock. The weather forecast called for temperatures approaching one hundred degrees so we needed to move on, preferably to higher elevations and cooler temperatures. We ended up in Utah near Zion National Park along North Creek, a tributary of the Virgin River which runs through Zion canyon. Our camp was idyllic with a creek side setting beneath the shade of towering cottonwoods. Each day I would take a refreshing dip – well the water wasn’t that deep, I had to lie down in it – in the creek right out from our front door. Beans would go down by the water, even getting her feet wet. This is something Sinbad never did. He wanted no part of any body of water, especially the moving kind. I thought it odd as how my swim suit would dry out stiff as a board each day. Then one day a small herd of cattle came waltzing down the creek, pooping and peeing along the way. That was the end of my getting into the water to cool off. At this camp Beans learned about red ants. She got stung on her paw and from that day on she has given ants a wide berth. We pretty much had the campground all to ourselves but with the approach of the coming weekend I knew that would change so we moved on to even higher elevations, just over seven-thousand feet.
I discovered Losee Canyon in Utah. It has the geological formations of better known Bryce Canyon only much smaller area. Losee Canyon had a more intimate feeling to it. A nice mile long trail looped through the canyon where one could enjoy the wind-blown sculptured columns of red sandstone up close. At this camp Beans continued her education of the great outdoors. She found her first Darkling Beetle, more commonly referred to as a stink bug. If irritated the beetle well stick its rump high in the air and emit an invisible toxic smelly spray. Beans received the full effect. As with the red ants, she now just ignores these beetles whenever she comes across them during her walks. Also while here, once again Beans slipped out of her harness. I looked outside to check on her and there in the dirt lay the harness minus cat. Mild panic set in and I rushed outside. I found her on the other side of the motor home. I calmly approached her talking nicely and she just stood there allowing me to pick her up. Whew! It is so nice to know that I don’t have to worry about her running off from me. I immediately adjusted the harness tighter and she never slipped out of it again.
When we arrived at Richfield, Utah, Beans had been on the road for two weeks. After lunch one day I took Bean’s harness and leash, held it up and said “Want to go for a walk?” She jumped down from her perch on top of the slide-out and stood by the door. As I bent over to slip the harness onto her she stood up, put her paws through the loop of the harness, pulled it down slipping her head through the loop while still standing! An unbelievable act to see and it warmed my heart. Here she went for her longest walk, well over a quarter of a mile. I likened it as having a small dog walking alongside of me. While at Richfield we encountered our first electrical storm one evening. Lightning flashed and thunder was immediate and deafening. Beans calmly laid there looking at me. I was astounded. Poor Sinbad would be scared senseless seeking shelter somewhere within the RV. I’ve had cats all my life and all would be frightened by thunder, gunfire or the explosion of fireworks on the Fourth of July. Beans continued to amaze me each day.
We continued on northward through Utah and crossed over into Colorado just west of Grand Junction to Rabbit Valley, a Bureau of Land Management (otherwise known as BLM) site. This was a great free camp area in high desert type environment. I was able to ride my little motor-powered mountain bike all around exploring areas I would not be able to drive to and were too far to hike. After a few days of peace and quiet the nomadic urge to move on was too great to resist and so move on we did, to Dinosaur National Monument. I found there were free places to camp at the eastern most edge of the Monument. Once there the directions were confusing. I drove a mile or so in on a road which only looked to get worse. With no place to turn around I backed out all that way. Having got myself in situations like this before I am pretty good driving a small house in reverse. I eventually found the proper place to go but all the spots were not RV friendly, none anywhere near level. I had to use the leveling blocks which made it manageable. Here Beans walked into some low ground hugging cactus and got a few stickers in her hind foot. I carried her back to the RV and wondered if she’d tolerate my trying to get the stickers out. Nope! I had to sit on her while she howled and finally pulled a clump of three out and turned loose one pissed-off cat. A few minutes later we were friends again. I sincerely believe she reasoned out what I did was for her good. I didn’t bother driving over to the main part of Dinosaur. I’ve been there before and doubt nothing had been added in sixty-five million years and why deal with all those tourists?
Now, even being mid-May, I found myself seeking warmer weather. As I toured the Utah Museum of Natural History in Vernal, tiny snowflakes floated through the air outside the windows. We headed for nearby Pelican Lake following Claire’s (my GPS girl) directions through someone’s ranch which eventually became a road suited only for a tractor and was no longer feasible in a RV. After retracing my route I took the long way around following the satellite image on Google maps. Finally we made it to Pelican Lake which should be renamed Mosquito Lake. The only redeeming factor was although there were a bazillion of these pests flying around I wasn’t bit once. Beans was fascinated with the water, walking out onto the flattened beds of reeds even getting her feet wet. Sinbad would have had nothing of that.
We went back towards Vernal and I caught sight of a brown BLM sign on the road pointing off to McCoy Flats. This was unlisted on my free campsites website so I drove in to investigate. It turned out to be a great place, peaceful and quiet but otherwise just brush and rocks. Unfortunately there was nothing really worth hiking off into to explore. Yet here it would be Bean’s first real capture in the wild. She did get a grasshopper at Rabbit Valley but more importantly here she caught her first lizard. She dove into a bush and came out with this lizard in her mouth. Being that Sinbad never hunted or if he did was never successful, I was amazed at Bean’s catching this reptile. She toyed with it a little and the lizard’s tail broke free wiggling about doing just what the deception was supposed to. It distracted Bean’s attention and the lizard made its escape to live on – minus a tail. Bean’s was baffled. Where did it go? The next morning we went for a walk and she wanted to go back to the same wash. In no time at all she had herself another lizard, twice as large as the first one. This lizard did something I’ve never seen a lizard do before. It just stopped moving, as if playing possum. Bean’s lost interest and walked off. I picked up the lizard but couldn’t see any injury. Sitting on my arm I carried it back to camp where I took some good close-up photos of it. Then it seemed to come to, moved a bit then scurried off with lighting speed. Seeing how fast it moved just amazed me that this cat is even faster.
By now I had worked up a strong desire to be in the forest. Months of desert living and then being just plain old scrubland will do that to me. We moved northward to the Ashely National Forest near the Wyoming border with Utah. We were at high altitude at 8343 feet and filled with aspens. Beans was ecstatic to be here. I doubt she had ever been in a forest in her short life. Ah but there was a catch in all of this. Even only days away from the official start of summer the wind at that altitude was cold, too cold for this west coast boy to be happy so our stay there didn’t last long. I had to get back down to lower elevations. We dropped down 2000 feet to Fort Bridger, Wyoming, an unexpected find. Fort Bridger was a 19th century trading post later turned into a military post in 1858. Many of the buildings still stand and the tourist can walk around viewing the history there. But what really peaked my interest were the nearby “Black and Orange” garage camp traveler cabins built on the Lincoln Highway back in 1929. These are the only remaining traveler cabins along the Lincoln Highway to my knowledge. Sinbad and I toured the Lincoln Highway back in 2014 but I somehow missed this. The best part is that the cabins were restored in 2009 to how they looked back in 1930. Several of the cabins were staged with period clothing and luggage inside just as if you had traveled back in time and were peering through the windows into someone’s vacation cabin. It is definitely worth a stop and see.
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Ever since I was a young boy and learned about the building of the first trans-continental railroad and the famous golden spike, I wanted to go to the place where the two tracks met, Promontory Point on the north end of the Great Salt Lake in Utah. You have to drive some thirty miles out of the way of going anywhere else just to reach the site. Who’d want to do that? Or so I thought. When I arrived I was amazed at hundreds of people milling around generally being a nuisance waiting for one the trains to arrive. I honestly felt I would drive out to the middle of some grassy plain where a tall granite monument stood with a brass plaque bolted to it describing “On this very spot on May 10, 1869, the Central Pacific’s Jupiter and the Union Pacific’s No.119 met to complete the first trans-continental railroad…blah, blah, blah.”
The Park Service stages an reenactment of the ceremony that took place on May 10, 1869, complete with players in period dress reciting speeches given for the event. Now I say “nuisance” for it seemed a fair number of people were going around doing just what they were told not to do when they paid their admission fee. That would be taking souvenir rocks from the track bed, walking around areas you were not supposed to be walking such as along the track where the approaching steam locomotive would be spewing out boiling hot jets of steam, or laying coins on the track for the train to flatten. I notice things like that. I watch people. One lady had parked her big fat butt on a wooden wagon next to the sign PLEASE KEEP OFF WAGON while waiting for the train to arrive so she could snap her picture. When the ceremony began there were kids yelling and screaming, babies crying and the ceaseless murmur within the crowd of people not paying attention. Even with the aid of a sound system I was able to only pick up bits and pieces of what was being said. I gave up and walked off to read signs and browse the gift shop while the herd was corralled out by the ceremony site. I find myself taking this tactic more and more of late. I can read information signs and look at displays without having kids walk in front of me or simple-minded adults standing next to me reading the information out loud. Use your inside voices people! After the ceremony ended and the crowd dispersed I returned to the locomotives to take some pictures. The two locomotives are replicas faithfully recreated down to the finest detail. The only bad part in my opinion was that they were all shiny and carefully painted up in bright colors as if they just came off the assembly line back east. I’d better appreciate it if they looked as they did back in 1869 for consider, they had just worked their way across the country building this railroad and were obviously filthy dirty, weather worn, all black, and completely covered with dirt, soot and grime. The bling was more attractive and everyone was impressed, except me .
Nothing is real. In fact today there are no railroad tracks leading to or from the area at all. That original first line was out of use by…??? (one of the facts lost to me due to the cacophony of noise from the inattentive crowd) as a new line was built at (where did he say?). What exists today at Promontory Point is 1.7 miles of track laid down on the original track bed for the monument. This short section of tracks enables the Park Service to run two fancy colorful locomotives back and forth upon for the tourist’s amusement. The original 19th century rails were torn up and repurposed. The newer track is of steel for they used iron back in 1869 due to the Civil War. Of course, none of the original railroad ties exist either. And who’s to say this is the very exact spot that the last railroad tie made of ash from the state of…??? (insert another fact lost to the ceaseless clamor) was laid? As I was trying to compose my shot of the replica last tie this twelve year old or so juvenile delinquent was standing on the nicely stained and polished beam of wood embedded in the gravel. His mom eventually told him to move so “…the man could get a photo”. He moved over some leaving a foot inside the track as a token of protest for having to even move at all. “Your foot is still in my photo” I said. He moved it. “Click” “Now you can put your foot back” you little shithead and I walked away. In the photo you can see how someone had stood there grinding the sole of their shoe onto the small shiny stainless steel plaque nailed onto the tie. There! I left my mark.
It seems that families are more unruly and disrespectful towards others than they used to be not all that long ago or is it just me who has become less tolerant of the ill-mannered? As I drove back the thirty or so miles I thought about not only this but many of my experiences at popular National Park tourist attractions. It never gets better with the passing of years, only worse, and is amplified by the ever increasing numbers visiting our nation’s wonders.
I drove east a short way to the shore of the Bear River for the night and try to clear my head of the circus I had just left behind. The first order of business, clean up all the litter strewn about the small boat launch area as I wouldn’t be able to sit outside and enjoy the scenery with all that trash in my view. I’ll refrain on going off on this topic for now. The next day we moved on into Idaho where I picked up the Oregon Trail at Soda Springs. Soda Springs was a much anticipated stop for the pioneers on the Trail for here they could relax, refresh their livestock and take in the warm therapeutic waters of the warm thermal springs. Unfortunately this piece of history now lies submerged beneath a man-made reservoir. Also it is said that you can still see the Trail as the wagons wheels ground deep ruts into the earth as they passed right by where we were camped. Unfortunately at this time of the year the grasses were thick and lush and I was unable to locate the wagon wheel ruts.
I saw on my paper map the little town of Freedom situated right on the Wyoming/Idaho border. I had to go see it. Freedom has a population of two-hundred fourteen and sets at 5,777’ in elevation. The border of the two states runs right down the middle of Main Street. Being that the Post Office sits on the east side of the street, Freedom is Freedom, Wyoming. The community was settled in 1879 by Mormon polygamists in order to escape arrest for polygamy. They could be free from Idaho police by simply walking across Main Street into Wyoming. We were now on the Mesa Falls Scenic Drive out of Ashton, Idaho. I pulled over into a turnout to view the Lower Mesa Falls that are sixty-five feet high. Up the road a way was Upper Mesa Falls at one hundred fourteen feet high. Ah, but there they wanted to charge me five dollars to see a bunch of water fall over a cliff. Ha! I continued on up the road.
I found a free camp area online near Island Park, Idaho along the Henrys Fork River. This was an ideal little camp right along a flowing stream of water. All the other campers were nestled back in under the trees and as the spot I chose was out in the open, I had no one around us for the two days we stayed. I like to be out in the open plus with two hundred forty five watts of solar panels on top I do need the sunlight. The site was just west of West Yellowstone by twenty three miles. We did go into town and that was enough tourist exposure for me. I had no aspirations of going into the park and dealing with the traffic and the hoard of tourists. Instead we continued northward on into Montana for a couple of free camps. I stopped at a Walmart in Whitefish-Columbia-Kalispell (I never knew which town I was in) to resupply. When I came out from the store and was walking across the parking to my horror I saw the wind had caught and flipped up and open the skylight vent on the cab-over portion of the motor home. The horror part is that Beans likes to lie on top of the slide-out and is now only eighteen inches from the opening! I panicked thinking for sure she climbed out to do some exploring. Oh the relief to find her calming lying on the slide-out as if nothing had happened. This clear Plexiglas vent cover had been nothing but a nuisance. It has three settings of open and any one of the first two is prone to the wind catching it and throw it wide open to number three position which is what had just happened. I have to remember to shut it tight and latch it whenever leaving the RV. In addition to that, being clear the sun just pours into that opening. I have to keep a foil covered insulated Styrofoam panel in the space most of the time. One good thing is that it would be so hot in that space I use it to defrost meat or keep pizza or cooked chicken warm by setting them on the panel. We stayed at a Forest Service camp, Yaak River Camp along the Kootenai River near the Idaho border. The two rivers met right at this campground. Here Beans discovered climbing trees is fun. Coming back down was something yet to be learned but after several more trees she started getting pretty good at it. Her going up is limited to the length of the retractable cord on her leash.
Crossing the panhandle of Idaho was as far north as we could go without going into Canada. You may be wondering why we didn’t go on into Canada. Well I have a little bit into British Columbia years ago. That was long before 9/11. Now the world has changed. Along with air travel security, border security I just don’t have the tolerance or patience for anymore. Also, I don’t have the necessary paperwork for Beans to cross borders. With Sinbad it wouldn’t have been a problem for he’d hide if someone came to the window. Not Miss Beans! She’d be right there in the window in the border agent’s face. “Meow”.
After just an hour’s drive we were in Washington. Washington proved challenging to stay at. You needed a Discovery Pass (thirty dollars…I think) and I just couldn’t figure out how to get one through their online site. Well to be honest, I wasn’t planning on getting one as I didn’t think I’d be in the state long enough to make it worth the expense. With some work I was able to locate a few free places on our route over to the Grand Coulee Dam. By then I was fairly frustrated with Washington and put together a couple of long drive days south and east back into Idaho at Moscow. On those drives we passed through Lind, Kahlotus, Washtucna, Hooper, Pampas and Dusty. All were little towns that now showed very little life left in them. Their Main Streets had more closed and boarded-up businesses than they did stores with WE’RE OPEN signs in the windows. Lind seemed the least distressed. It had a very nice city park with banners on the lampposts welcoming the traveler and advising them that Lind is “Home of the Combine Demolition Derby”. Now that would be something to see.
We worked our way south along Highway 95 that skirts along the Salmon River, then the Little Salmon River and over on to Highway 55 towards Boise, Idaho. Everywhere we went the presence of mosquitoes would be the deciding factor as to whether we stayed or not. I can tolerate most any pest but with mosquitoes I draw the line. At one camp in a forest setting I thought we were good but when I took Beans out for her initial exploratory walk the little blood suckers soon found us. Yes, even Beans was under attack. The remainder of the day and that evening we were prisoners inside of the motor home. I don’t like to use repellent for it just leaves this sticky smelly feel to you−must be the DEET. I found an alternative online, Picadridin, and pick up a can on the next shopping trip. At the next mosquito infested camp I gave it the test. It smelled okay, felt fine and by god, it actually worked keeping the little buggers at bay. They would fly around my head but never land. Once I developed some faith I was able to let go the annoyance of them flying about and enjoy myself out of doors. It is really a rewarding to buy a product that actually does what it is advertised to do.
Being in hot weather was another unexpected issue. I just didn’t expect it here in Idaho. So I reset my focus on camp prospects at altitude. I located Prairie Campground which was not hot, had shade, and was at the confluence of two streams which drowned out the nearby highway noise and best of all…no mosquitoes! I visited with our neighbors who were an older couple from Idaho and had been camping for years. We were comparing notes as to how things have changed particularly in the fellow campers we encountered in these modern times. The old guy would bring up the very exact observations I had been having which had gave me concern as perhaps I’ve just become some old curmudgeon. So it wasn’t just me with a bad attitude. I gave it more thought after our visit which concluded how some people are just Disrespectful, Inconsiderate, Rude Tourists or otherwise known as DIRT. And with that, later in the day some DIRT moved in nearby and so Beans and I left the next morning. This proved to be a good in the end for the next camp just down the road a few dozen miles had a very good cell signal. The camp was situated in a broad flat valley. Being wide open I could see for miles and miles. Here that fact really set in with me. I like wide open places. That is why I like the desert so much. Most people like forest settings and as they are nice, I just don’t seem to set well within them. I get this confined, closed in feeling especially if I cannot see any further than I can throw a rock, that’s if I didn’t hit a tree first. I like the wide open sky filled with sunlight in the day and stars at night. And, most will think I am truly nuts on this one, being camped right next to a fast flowing rushing stream isn’t all that romantic as I imagined it would be. That first night at the previous camp I couldn’t get back to sleep from all the rushing water noise. I had to put in my ear plugs. Then the next morning I found myself shutting the door to the RV just for some quiet as the constant noise was getting to me. So this new place was like heaven. In talking with the old couple that day the lady brought up the point that the upcoming weekend was a four day holiday weekend – Fourth of July! I had no idea. I just don’t pay attention to holidays anymore for everyday is a holiday for me now. So I kind of panicked wondering what was I going to do and where can we go to escape the madness. This little valley, Lake Creek just north of Sun Valley, Idaho would do just fine.
There was a side road right near camp that went up into a little canyon to the Taylor Creek trail head. One weekday when the crowds were away I decided to go for a little hike. I was on my way fairly early in the morning so the canyon was still in shade as I walked to the trail head. Once there a local woman had just pulled in and parked. I mentioned to her how I had wished I had brought my gloves being as it was so cold out of doors. She agreed which I am sure was out of total kindness on her part for she was wearing shorts and a tank top. Idaho women! She said she was going