Non exploring projects.

We have not been in places where extended exploration is possible very much this year. While this is unfortunate in that there are far fewer things to write or talk about, it does have an advantage in that there is more time for other interests to be explored. A lack of adventuring also leaves time for important things, like preparing for the fast approaching cold weather.

The Admiral has often mentioned that a good sock is hard to find these days. He tends to make these comments most especially when he notices that I am knitting a pair of socks. Being a very loyal captain, I took the hint. The Admiral's socks have proved an interesting project. He wanted socks that came higher than the tops of his boots. This isn't really a problem, but it is scary to knit socks with long legs. I tried it on a pair for myself once and had to rip out the entire sock and start over because there wasn't enough yarn for the foot. So I knit these toe-up instead of top down. Second, the Admiral does not have really big feet, they are considerably bigger than any feet I had previously made socks for, and I could not find a pattern that catered to his particular foot size, which is really not a big deal, but does require some recalculations. Following some advice that I picked up somewhere or other, I decided to start both socks at the same time. It was excellent advice. When I finally finished the first sock, I really don't know if I would still have had the courage to start on the second if it had not already been halfway through. 

This is the Admiral's sock. 

 This is the Admiral's sock compared with my sock, which 

is about the size sock that I usually make. 

 This is the Admiral's second sock. It is not really benefiting from this post. 

My other project is one that I have been planning to work on for a long time. I never was quite brave enough to begin before, but once begun it turned out not to be so difficult, and thus far, has taken less time than the Admiral's socks. 

Voila! the top piece for a very small log cabin quilt. Of course, it isn't finished yet, it still needs to be quilted, but it is at least started, which is the hardest part. 

Ten things we've learned. Part 2

#1. It is still a good idea to be ready to dodge when opening the cabinets after a drive. The 1st Mate has really taken beatings over this one.

#2. People honestly think that the summer is hot, wherever they live, and however not hot it is. People in Montana WILL insist on commenting on the heat in July, even if you are standing in front of them wearing a sweater.

#3. When going fishing, it is a good idea not to bring the captain.

#4. The Granary in Norfolk, NE is one of the best places to eat EVER. You can choose from beef that taste like it is from West of the Mississippi River, or chicken that tastes like it is from East of the Mississippi.

#5. People can die from being spiked by a catfish, but usually only if that person is allergic to the venom. Also, it is much better to be spiked by a catfish out of a pond than it is to be spiked by one from either the Mississippi or Des Moines Rivers.

#6. The incredible dumpiness of some campgrounds can be negated by the proximity to an excellent Greek restaurant.

#7. The incredible dumpiness or unfriendliness of some campgrounds cannot be negated at all, by any factor that is present. The only option for these is to get out. Fast.

#8. It is cold in North Dakota. This was proposed by a man wearing shorts in the snow in Minnesota, and confirmed by a Montana track inspector who works in -50 degree weather.

#9. Kitty litter is an excellent deterrent for getting stuck in the winter. It can also come in handy during certain scenarios in the summer. The minute you say "Why are we still carrying a twenty pound bag of kitty litter (in case we get stuck and need traction) when we haven't seen ice or snow in three months" and toss it in the nearest dumpster, you will need it.

#10. Freshly baked cinnamon rolls and a cup of hot chocolate are the best remedy for the day when you wake up freezing cold in September and realize that the first frost date is only a couple weeks away.

A quick list.

So, since the last post, a long, long time ago, our travels have looked something like this:
Baytown, TX- camping on Galveston Bay. Fishing.
Scotts Bluff, NE.
Douglas, WY. Home of the Jackolope.
Miles City, Montana.
Jamestown, ND. Home of the World's largest Buffalo and three white buffalo.
Detroit Lakes, MN.
Minneapolis, MN. This is where the 2nd Mate jumped ship and headed for the home port to strike out on her own. Sort of.
York, NE.
Brookfield, MO.
Hannibal, MO.
Quincy, IL.
Granite City, IL. Terrible campground, nice people. Awesome Greek restaurant.
Keokuk, IA. No terrible fishing incidents this time.
North Platte, NE. The best ice cream cones in the world are sold at Cody Park.
Wheatland, WY. Where we are now.

Wheatland is a nice town. There isn't a lot to do, but it has a great view of the mountains in the west.

And that is where we've been.

Squashed neighbors and two minute thunderstorms.

When we first started traveling, the 1st mate spent about a month going through the atlas finding routes to places where we might be going. Every one of them, no matter where it ended, went through Texas. We did manage a weekend trip to Texas for Triduum/Easter two years ago, but this is the first time that we've made it here for more than a few days.
We began noticing "Southern" things in OK. A mimosa tree or pecan tree here or there, grits, 500 degree heat,  a little boy named Striker, who was called Bubba...etc. Once we got to Texas, things really hit home. The accents, the fact that it never cools down at all, it's all here, very much like Alabama.

On July 3, we were camped on the shore of Lake Texoma. The campground was exceedingly crowded because of the holiday, and the sites were uncomfortably close together, but that could all be got over when one considered the fishing, or so I am told. Our neighbors on the right where a loud, but friendly group, who accorded us plenty of amusement during our stay.
We  decided to have fajitas for supper. Because we were on 30 amp and could not run two air conditioners (the front one and the back one) we decided to cook outside so that we would not heat the house up with our dinner. The Commodore and the crew were down at the lake, fishing, and the Admiral was starting to get really hungry, and so after a bit of discussion, he and I decided to go ahead and cook supper. But we had not the wood for our fire. It had just rained and everything good was soaked.
The commodore returned in time to suggest that rather than building a we fire we should just buy a bundle of wood. I agreed to start a fire while the Commodore and Admiral went for the wood. I was just beginning to light our little fire when the Head of the Neighbors on the Right came over and called out that they had a very hot pile of briquettes that they had finished with, and that we were more than welcome to use. We declined politely, preferring to have a campfire. The Commodore and Admiral left, and I got some small sticks burning steadily. The Head of the Neighbors came again to repeat his offer. I assured him that our fire was well on its way.
Sometime in the next minute or so, something of great importance was spotted  by everyone. A great black thunderhead was looming over the campground. About thirty seconds later the winds began to rise. Persons began hauling in awnings and blow-away-able objects to safety. I calmly continued building my fire. The Commodore and the Admiral returned. Another of the neighbors pointed out that we really were welcome to use their fire. As the first drops of rain fell, the Commodore accepted the offer. We dragged our frying pan and our steak over to the fire and let the rain destroy my infant flames. The neighbors' fire was a two foot long, two foot wide bed of red hot coals. The commodore slapped the steaks on just as the skies let loose. I held the umbrella over the food. The neighbors lowered the roof of their little tent and went on eating their supper. One of them noticed us with our umbrella and brought another so that we would have better coverage. We cooked our steaks. The rain poured down and the wind blew. We finished the steaks and returned the umbrella.

We cooked the peppers and onions in Tallulah.

Essay on the Amazingness of my Sister the Harbor Master

Quite Frankly, I doubt this post even needs to be written. Those who know her know just how amazing she is, and I hesitate to mention her wonderfulness to anyone who doesn't know of it, as they will certainly feel the pain of not knowing her. But I promised her, and so it must be.
I first met the Harbor Master sometime around the time I was born. Her first kindness to me was rendered before my birth; she so thoroughly trained my parents that they had no difficulty whatsoever in looking after me. Later, while the Stowaway was trying to teach me how to fly (an exercise that resulted in my first trip to the emergency room and a concussion) the Harbor Master was helping our mother teach me such important things as How To Clean Up Your Toys So That Mom Will Not Yell At You. Later, when she acquired a tiny, adorable, half Cocker spaniel half Chihuahua puppy, she appointed me to guard the puppy from our then very little, very puppy hugging sister.On our first camping trip, she gently informed me of the many, many dangers that lurk in Alabama forests. Because of this, I (and the Stowaway) wisely moved into the nice safe cabin, leaving her to comfortably defend the tent with the 2nd Mate.
When we were older, the Harbor Master began to pave the way for us. She was the first to cut her hair short, taking the brunt of the Admiral's displeasure (he grumbled for several months) and the first to drive, and the first to go on a date, and the first to get married. These are all difficult things for parents to handle and she was the pioneer for us all.
Most recently, the Harbor Master showed me the kindness of allowing me to spend an entire month in her company. I flew to Florida for her Graduation ceremony (her actual graduation was last December) and from there drove back to Alabama with her and RC (her husband). They have kindly occupied base camp while we are voyaging.
The Harbor Master assured me at once that I was not at all a guest, and should not behave, nor feel like one. While this sounds very blunt when written, it was in fact, very kind in person. One who is not a guest may do as one pleases without bothering to check with one's host. One who is not a guest may eat any food in the kitchen without asking. One who is not a guest may mow the grass and wash the dishes, without any of the awkwardness of the host insisting that it is not necessary. It is absolutely mind boggling how quickly a month can go by when one is not a guest.
So to thank the Harbor Master for her kindness throughout my life, and particularly during the month of May, I have put it here, for ever and ever.
Harbor Master, you are one amazing sister. Thank you.

I will probably now be hounded by my remaining siblings. To them I can only say that when you welcome me into your home for a month and let me rant about everything that ever bothered me, and feed me all of my favorite foods, and introduce me to new favorite foods, and help me get volunteered to help at some dinner thing that I get a free t-shirt for helping with, and just generally give me a totally awesome vacation, I'll write something on how amazing you are too.

Warning: Catfish were harmed in the making of this post.

Today we returned to the pond. Never fear, we were very careful this time to remove all of the dangerous fins. Here are the pics.

This is the Fish that Dan caught.

Here it is again.

Not much for a noodler, but not too bad for a kid. 

This is the Fish that the 2nd Mate caught.

And again.

Getting him off the hook. 

Ruler, what ruler?

Back to the pond. 

Wait for it....

Got him. Not bad. 

The fisherfolk and their catch. From left to right, 1st AB's little one, 2nd Mate's, and the 1st AB's big ones. 

AKA, Dinner.

A word over the campfire and concerning Fish.

Well, Spring is here, and has finally brought some warmth, and greeness, inspiring us to try out the newly opened-for-the-season parks.

Last week, we hit a KOA. These were, at one point in time, anathema, "Hotels without walls" and all that. But sometimes, a hotel without walls is exactly what the doctor ordered and this was one of them. A nice place to ease us out of the winter routine and back into the camping life. A pleasant place to remind ourselves that we are a crew, and a chance to air out the tent, who came away with a new name. That's right. The tent's name is now Peggy. The boys spent the entire stay lounging around reading and fishing. They caught several stringers of chubs out of a creek that no one has ever really caught anything out of.We cooked s'mores every night, and tried out s'mores with chocolate-swirl marshmallows. The Commodore says that they taste like coco puffs, but everyone else liked them.

 A fire is a very humanizing thing. almost as humanizing as making bread. 

 The Setup: Tallulah in the back, Peggy, and then the sewing machine on the table so that the Commodore could make some new curtains. 

The First day in the park, we decided to go sightseeing in the nearby town. The Admiral was still at work, and since we had no other mode of transportation, we packed up Tallulah and went to town. We discovered the Starved Rock Lock and Dam and settled in to watch for passing barges. We were wandering around the museum part, when the Commodore's communication device went off. It was the Admiral, wondering where his house had gone. The Commodore calmly informed him that we had left the coordinates on the kitchen table. Hmmm. And then she asked the lady at the desk what the address of the place was. The Admiral's GPS failed him anyway, and he took the very, very long way home. 

The next day, we set up Peggy, and went out again. This time, at least, when the Admiral came back to the campground, he had a tent to wait in. 

Finally, the night before we left, the crew and I (minus the 2nd Mate, who opted for luxury) slept in the tent in freezing weather for the first time. We had done so for four nights by that time, in steadily lowering temperatures and had discovered that air mattresses are perfectly horrid in cold weather. The best way to keep warm is just to all cram in under as many blankets as possible.
By the time we left, we had gotten back into the swing of camping, or at least kamping, so much so, that we had even recovered the skill of lighting the fire with only one match.
Note: It is very important to use only one match. I do not really know why, only that it is shameful to use more than one. It is kind of like the pegs-in-the-board game, only easier. It does not count if the match doesn't light because you scratched all of the stuff off of the top while trying to light the match on the fire ring. It does not count against you if you subsequently use an entire newspaper shredded into tiny bits to keep the fire going until it decides to catch on the sticks. It does count against you if the wind blows your match out. That first flame is delicate and must be guarded carefully.

So then we departed from that pleasant place and moved on down the road to Keokuk, IA. Here at Hicory Haven campgrounds, we have found the usual conveniences along with a bonus. There is a pond, full, the owner assures us, of large, savory catfish. Catfish is a particular favorite of both the Admiral and the Commodore, and most of the crew members.Fishing, therefore, became not a luxurious pastime, but a race for the delicacy. So it began. The Commodore and the younger crew members fished between their school work hours. The Commodore took every smelly food in the house and threw it together to make bait. At last, she went out to catch a catfish, leaving the crew to clean up supper. The Admiral was stricken by a bout of worry, and insisted that it was not safe for the Commodore to fish alone. I, as Captain, was ordered to go and stay with her, and for that reason, I witnessed what happened. The First Mate came down to ask a question, which the Commodore could not answer from the pond. She left her pole in the care of the first Mate, and went to the house. Dutiful sailor that he is, the Mate became entranced watching fish strike the far off surface of the pond. I, as Captain, was paying somewhat more attention to his line. I knew that it was useless to watch my own line, as the fish had been swimming around it and picking bugs off the surface of the water for at least a quarter of an hour. I saw the Mate's line tighten, and called a warning to him. He responded admirably, and hauled the creature ashore with great skill. Knowing that catfish are extremely good at leaping off of a line, and knowing that they are dangerous to touch, he proceeded to pin the beastie to the ground with his feet. I, as the Captain, called to him to hold on, and ran for the Admiral. It was recently stated by one of his co-workers that there are not many things that will make the Admiral run. I am amused to add that a catfish is on the list of those things. At some point during the First Mate vs. the Catfish struggle, the fishing line got broken, and the fish was once again  in the process of escaping, but was held back again by the First Mate's feet. Fortunately, the Admiral arrived in time to secure the fish and we returned to Tallulah triumphant. The Admiral had to leave early in the morning, so he decided to skin the fish at once and have done with it. He was rather in a hurry, and forgot, as anyone might, to cut of the top fin. There was a great deal of banging and fighting the fish, and in the process, the catfish flipped himself off of the table and right onto the commodore's foot. Fin first. There was a great deal of commotion then, as the Commodore was bleeding quite profusely from the wound in her foot, which we imagined must be very severe. Fortunately, I have, for some years been worried about injuring myself and having to create a makeshift bandage. I was ready at once with cloths and a bandanna to staunch the flow of blood. The Admiral hastily rectified his error and removed the dangerous fin, then left the fish to the First Mate to be readied for storage. He then took the Commodore to the closest hospital. The emergency room was very busy at that time. Of course, it was only natural that someone would ask the Commodore what had happened. She admitted that she had been impaled by a catfish. One of the persons waiting then informed the Commodore that he had frequently been spiked by catfish. He caught them by hand, a practice known as catfish noodling. The Emergency room staff were very sympathetic. The doctor googled what to do for catfish spikes, and discovered that although the amount of blood shed looked as though the Commodore had a four inch gash in her foot, she had actually only sustained a puncture wound. Then, the x-ray tech kindly pointed out what a shame it was that she got spiked, because "it's a great night for catching catfish!" And so it was, but we did not care to do any more fishing just then, and we have not got back down to the pond yet. Perhaps Friday, says the Commodore, when she can hobble a bit better.

The First Mate, slightly nervous about his fish.

Just look at that catfish. 

And the official measurement is...umm...well, he's longer than the ruler.