A journey on wheels...The Beginning

My camp at Wallowa Fiddle Tunes

This journey is so different than my travels of the last two years. A female "Sherpa" has come into my life in the form of this 2014 F-350 4x4 named Gertrude.  Mind you I did not name this truck. I would have named HIM Hercules as he is strong and mighty.  He totes my home away from home, the Arctic Fox truck camper. I am spoiled with AC, ducted heat, stove, microwave, toilet, shower, refrigerator and a queen size bed with real sheets and my favorite comforter. Charlie must have an image of a Gertude as a strong and steadfast character.  He wins the name game.

Gertrude, the Fox, bikes and us

Works for me.

I was very pleased to be able to set up this camper by myself at the Wallowa Music Alliance Fiddle Tunes Camp the week before the Iowa trip. It was hard and slow work for me.  At the end of the week I took it all down and drove my weary body  home. Pretty good for me as I am six years into a Parkinson's diagnosis.

I remember a time when my husband made all the travel arrangements. These trips included a Volkswagen Rabbit, a black dog named Molly Too, a tent, a couple of sleeping bags, fishing poles, split pea soup and RAIN. At work there was an  administrative assistant to complete the task. I didn't have much experience arranging complex travel arrangements for several people to big cities.  Then there was one huge blooper, was it to Detroit, Galvaston or Independence Iowa I don't remember. I caught it on a credit card statement. I had "stayed" at the conference  hotel several weeks before the conference was to be held. After cleaning up that mess I was prompted to try my hand at travel arrangements. The first time my personal travel was completed flawlessly I sensed a feeling of accomplishment. Then I started to enjoy working out all the details for all our travel. C-Team Walking the Camino de Santiago in 2012 was the result of much planning and organizing of  the 10 travelers who came  from different locations at different times.  Hey, it was fun.  I loved the planning  and the travel. MMMmmm, maybe a new career? NAH.

Walking across France last April and May brought me even  stronger  feelings of confidence.  I thoroughly enjoyed the planning as much as the walk.  I met up with Leslie and we made quite the pair; two women with progressive neurological challenges walking, walking, walking. What a boost of confidence to complete that journey unassisted .

Research into cycling as an  exercise for people with Parkinson's started to appear from many directions. As I searched for local cyclists with PD, I found a Seattle woman named Nan Little. She mentioned the RAGBRAI  (Registers Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa) to me. Nan often tells her story of  holding  her Parkinson's  symptoms at bay with intensive exercise, especially cycling. The ride across Iowa with Pedaling for Parkinson's  intrigued me, then captivated me. I knew I had to go.

The training began.  Between the tandem with Charlie and my single rides, and running (in the car of,course) my dad to doctor after doctor, I cycled over 800 miles in preparation.. Did I feel prepared? Not really.  There was so much to prepare for that I never imagined...  Riding pedal to pedal with thousands of other cyclists. Weather. Sleeping on a cot in a tent. Spending 4-6 hours in a bike saddle. Adjusting medications to time zones.  Heat. Humidity. Planning the travel to and from Iowa and getting the vehicle prepared. ugg!

No matter how hard we plan and prepare stuff happens. Stolen? or lost? cash gone in Yellowstone. We never expected the money Charlie put aside from substitute teaching  would disappear. He was very bitter, understandably. I was thankful no one was hurt or that the money had to be spent on repairs.  We reported the incident to Park Rangers and the Park Vendor  Corporation. The loss of that money continues to be a mystery.  We have developed many scenarios for its disappearance, yet it is still gone. We have to leave that incident behind and get to Iowa.

My cousin Pat Rogers was a joy to have along. She flew to Seattle to spend time with my brother and his wife with the plan we would drive her back to Iowa. We traded memories of childhood visits and told stories as we traveled from West to East. Recently purchased, my Taylor Mini guitar was a perfect fit for this back seat rider. I practiced Blue Grass licks and Irish songs with DADGAD tuning.  My playing offered nothing to sing to.   Yet Pat was a  gracious  listener.  While I dozed on and off, she helped Charlie stay awake.  He completed a  16 hour drive to Grant Village in Yellowstone with Pat as co-pilot.  We will laugh about that marathon day for years to come.

We said goodbye to Pat,  and Gertrude, yesterday July 19. She took the truck and camper to her home near Osage. But before she left we found tiny Doon, Iowa. With my dad's description we located my grandfather's childhood home.  A few miles down the road, in a cemetery near Alvord, were the graves of my great grandparents Joseph and Mary K Kleespies.  The graves nearest to them was of their son,  John H Kleespies, and the Aunt Mame we heard so much about in our childhood.  My great uncle John passed on to the next world at age 21. Noticing some time worn engraving on the tomb stone, we brainstormed techniques to recover its words.  Pat had the idea that with some shaving cream placed over the writing, the letters would be more clearly seen. Shaving cream was located in the camper and we read this epithet:

Behold ye strangers passing by

As you are now so once was I

As I am now you soon shall be

Prepare for death and follow me 

Charlie, Carol, Pat at Great Uncle John H Kleespies grave Alvord, Iowa

Hmm, in all our preparations we did not consider death.  And we aren't exactly strangers.  So....this does not pertain to us at this time...right?

We gave Pat the Round-up Court wave as a goodbye and sadly watched the taillights turn the corner. I held a secret hope she would come back.  We would not see her again until we showed up on our bikes the following Saturday afternoon in Guttenburg, Iowa.