We Were There but Where?

By Arlene Blessing

Seasoned traveler Arlene Blessing has roughed it in a tent in Montana, squeezed an old bus through a narrow tunnel in the Black Hills, shopped in Londons Piccadilly Square, and spotted a humpback whale in Alaska. In her amusing and educational travelogue, Blessing combines interesting historical facts with entertaining personal anecdotes that chronicle her many trips within the United States and around the world with family, friends, and acquaintances.

Blessing begins with stories about her travels to Yellowstone, Montana, South Dakota, and beyond as she and her family set out to satiate their curiosity about the world outside the comforts of their own home. As she continues with details about her travels outside the border, Blessing provides a glimpse into her often humorous experiences as she toured Hell in George Town, Grand Cayman; crossed the Taieri Gorge in New Zealand aboard a narrow gauge train; and bravely cruised the Mexican Riviera after a tsunami in Japan.

We Were There But Where? shares the experiences and history surrounding a veteran traveler as she embarked on remarkable adventures in the United States and beyond.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477223666

Arlene Blessing

Arlene (Bright) Blessing, as a youngster was always dreaming of going to faraway places with strange sounding names. Later in life, she and her husband meticulously managed to do just that, which shows that yes dreams can come true.

Book preview

PART I

ROUGHING IT

COVERING MONTANA, AND BEYOND

As a young family with a dad who was a rainbow trout fisherman, we would often pack up and head off to a lake, a pond or a stream.

To begin with, our outdoor home would be a 10x14 tent. Oh wow, when I think back at the crazy things, we’d do looking for a good time. I now wonder about our IQ’s in those days (and that’s still questionable). There is probably a few of you reading this, that haven’t had any of these kinds of experiences, you just might wanta try it.

I’ve came across stories about people in the far North, getting cabin fever and putting the family on sleighs, and off they’d go, for miles and miles, stopping only to build a small campfire to heat up something to eat.

We didn’t actually do any winter camping, however in our state, early springs and early falls can even be winter like conditions.

To begin with in the tenting days, we didn’t even have sleeping bags or cots, we would unroll an old mattress, and some quilts and sleep on the floor of the tent. For a stove we used a 2 burner propane camp stove. Refrigeration? A beat up old ice box, if you placed it in the shade with a cover over it, it did quite well. To keep things in some what of a orderly fashion, I wisely converted a old wooden box with a hinged lid, into a suitcase style kitchen. This invention held all the essential cooking utensils and tableware. Next on the list were a dish pan and a galvanized bucket. We were then ready to set up camping, almost anywhere.

When you are living outdoors, you are sharing your habitat with other living creatures, or vice versa. Anyway once, we were asleep in the tent, and we heard this banging and clanging noise. We peeked out, and here was a bear trying to get the lid off of a near by garbage can, we quickly woke the kids up (and I seldom ever wake a kid up for any reason) so that they could see the bear, and tack that sight into their camping memories.

TWO MEDICINE LAKE

This was one of my favorite places to camp. It has a neat little store near by, and the campground is mapped out nicely, to allow campers a feeling of seclusion in the trees.

No, no, what I am seeing can’t be going on. But it was, I spied a fellow cutting a tree down, because he wanted its spot for his tent. Well as this book goes on, you will find out that, this fellow wasn’t the only villain on the block.

The Two Medicine Lower lake area, is possessed by the Blackfoot Reservation, and was once declared a sacred ground by several Native American Tribes. The long lake, has always been good for trout fishing, and the scenery is magnificent, steep tall mountains flank the upper half of the lake. There is also a neat trail that goes up to Trick Falls a single water fall, that has the appearance of two water falls.

There is also an Upper Two Medicine Lake; this is part of Glacier Park. It is quite a hike, and several miles a way from Lower Two Medicine. A.J. did go try the fishing there once, however he must not have caught a large enough trout to warrant going back.

BOWMAN LAKE, MONTANA

Is on the Northwestern portion of Glacier Park. This definitely was our family’s favorite camping spot. There is no way to describe the beauty of this lake. It isn’t always easy to get to it. In 1967, we really chose the wrong way to get to the lake. We were driving our old converted school bus, and we were on the old logging trail, (very narrow and full of rocks and holes) we blew a tire on the old bus. There is no one living on this route, and it is very seldom traveled. Cell phones were not in existence yet. We were on our own. We managed to get the tire changed and went on our way again. Next time we would take the following route:

Another route is the road passing through Polbridge, Mt. on the North Fork Rd. This is a very memorable drive, with many sharp turns, and sometimes you get the feeling that you’ll meet yourself coming back, not to mention the areas where you can look down to see the many miles below you. It is then that you realize that you are ascending a mountain top.

I remember another trip to Bowman Lake, in 1970, when the bridge at Polbridge, had been washed out by flood waters. The bridge had been repaired in a make shift way, temporarily requiring a strict weight limit on it. As we pulled up to the entrance.

A Forest Ranger was standing there with a skeptical look on his face, BUT he didn’t know who he was up against. A.J. looked him in the eye and says This bus, why it doesn’t weigh any more then that Winnebago that just went over the bridge, ahead of us.

Okay, says the Ranger, But you go at your own risk. At this point, Rod didn’t take any chances (he did later on though) he quickly removed his Honda Motorcycle from the front end, and said I’ll just meet you guys at the camp ground. The rest of us stayed on board. Why? I’ll never know, I guess by this time, living dangerously was just part of our lives. Slowly we moved over the bridge, the boards rattled and squeaked furiously beneath the wheels of the bus. Then suddenly we were across, whew. Praise the Lord!

Rod was waiting for us, sitting on his motorcycle. (Later at the lake, he loaned this motorcycle to a young couple that he’d never laid eyes on before). This caused his mama to throw a fit, I swear like father, like son, both of them were always trying to come up with something to stir me up.

In 1974, on a visit to Bowman Lake, we all made friends with a family from Michigan. These folks stayed in a real Indian Tipi with all the trimmings. They were very ardent fans of America’s first occupants. They actually carted all the paraphernalia for the Tipi on the top of their van. I remembered, how we thought it had been such a chore to set up our old tent in days gone by. After promising this family some old Indian artifacts, and a visit to a Tipi site on the Montana prairie, they followed us home.

. A friend Edith S. after her first visit to this beautiful spot said, to return to Bowman Lake, it just wouldn’t be the same again the second time. I too felt sentimental about it back then, and I still do.

In 1979, as a family we made our last trip back to the lake. When I returned home, I was compelled to write the following poem.

"THE ECHOES IN THE TREES’

You remember those yester years,

And yes, you shed a few tears

Gone, gone are the sounds of children scrambling

through the trees,

Now there’s only the quiet rustling of the leaves,

Close your eyes, listen to the breeze,

See them there; hear their echoes in the trees?

In a little boy’s hand fresh off the hook,

Is a fish from a bubbling brook,

Next from the shore of the lake.

He terrorizes his sister with a slithering snake.

Close your eyes, listen to the breeze,

See them there; hear their echoes in the trees?

A wind comes up, the trees are bent,

We all remain snug in our sturdy tent.

Suddenly there’s a crash a way out there,

Kids wake up, see that big ole bear?

Close your eyes, listen to the breeze,

See them there; hear their echoes in the trees?

A majestic mountain looms up above the camp,

Gentle waves slap against the little motor boat,

tied at the ramp.

There’s the aroma of tall pines.

Autumn colors are appearing on the vines,

Close your eyes, listen to the breeze,

See them there; hear their echoes in the trees?

YELLOWSTONE PARK

Is another favorite place of ours to go visit. Scenery changes there all the time. This park was established in 1872. It extends through Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho. Its name comes from two possibilities, either from the sulfuric yellow rocks, or the sandstone that borders the lakes shores. The park has 60% of the world’s geysers, as well as many hot springs.

OLD FAITHFUL

This is Yellowstone Park’s prize feature. It shoots up eruptions of boiling water as high as 185 feet and lasting from 1.5 to 5 minutes. It was discovered in 1870 by the Washburn Langford—Doane Expedition.

Did you know that Old Faithful has even been used as a laundry mat? In 1882 General. Sheridan’s men used it to wash their clothes.

Our first visit to Yellowstone was a year after the BIG earthquake (of 7.3 magnitudes) in 1959. It caused a huge landslide that claimed the lives of 28 people. The quake was felt as far as several hundred miles away. At that time we had a new Chevrolet station wagon, and that was our home on wheels. I guess we were uneasy, because we did some quick sight seeing and returned home.

Another memorable trip to Yellowstone was in 1962. We are now traveling in an old pink 48 camp bus. (a poor mans Winnebago) We started out by going to a (planned Church camp, at Camp On the Boulder, Montana). However, it must have been a spur of the moment decision, to go there, because out of 6 family members, our daughter Carol was the only one interested in attending the activities at Camp On The Boulder. My mother Mary V. was content to sit at the camper table in the bus, with the curtains closed and to chain smoke. Our nephew Roy Brown had joined us on this trip, but was at this point, wondering why? Our son Rod, made a stab at being interested in the junior activities at the camp, but only half heartedly. Then there was A.J. he knew that there was some good fishing spots in the area. However getting to them would be another thing, the old bus was set up to stay where it was. To move it, meant we’d have to take the burners off the stove (they rattled and would become damaged on the road) we’d have to repack everything that was stashed under the bus. (My oh my, how were the guys going to get to go fishing)? Then, A.J. spied a Cadillac, belonging to the Church conference superintendent, in the parking lot. This fellow was a fisherman too, surely he wouldn’t mind loaning his car to a fellow fisherman for a few hours. Well this poor Christian was so naïve, he actually thought that A.J. wasn’t going to go fishing accept in the camps free time. As it turned out this Caddy never cooled off for two days, it was carting fishermen to the river all of the time.

Suddenly, Roy wasn’t feeling well his allergies were kicking in, probably from the foliage down by the river. Oh well the Camp was now closing. So we headed out of the parking lot, out onto the main road again. There was a herd of sheep being driven a long, just a head of us, on their way to a new pasture, they were bleating their hearts out. I turns to A.J. and says. That’s just like us, a herd of sheep, each going his own way, and focusing on going astray.

Mary V. put a cigarette out in an ash tray, and with a mischievous smile says Do we have to go home, isn’t there something else to do and see, before we go all the way back home? Actually I could see her point; she had been sitting on the bus with the curtains closed for days. Of course she wanted to do something else. Besides that, she always paid more then her share of expenses, on these excursions. So A.J. pipes up Let’s go on over to Yellowstone, it’s always fun to go there. The tour guide that I am, I was already looking at the road map. Okay, let’s do that, but on the way, why not stop at historical Virginia City?" I was always interested in history. No one objected.

VIRGINIA CITY, MONTANA

It was a gold rush city in 1864. Many California gold rush miners came up the Columbia River, on the Mullen Road to this spot.

10,000 people inhabited the city in 1863-1866. It was the largest town along the Alder Gulch, and it was known as the fourteen mile city. Then it was the largest city, and it being one of the first cities, is also the oldest city in the state of Montana. The mining of gold dust produced thirty million dollars in those three short years. The first public school in the state of Montana was opened in Virginia City during the gold rush as well as the first live theater that opened in 1864. We gals went to see the Virginia City players, and we had a very enjoyable, worthwhile evening.

May V. thought that the old saloons were cool she loved the player piano music.

After seeing what there was to see, we then took off for Yellowstone Park.

I had put a roast beef dinner in the oven, and that’s the time, we ate supper and watched Old Faithful spout off.

Roy had planned on sleeping in his sleeping bag, under the bus, for the duration of the trip. Here at Yellowstone, he quickly changed his mind. This is a well noted area for lots of bear as inhabitants. As we were seeing the sites, we saw a mama bear with her 2 cubs, coming down into the ditch… A.J. pulled the bus off to the side of the road (everyone does this in the park) and as quick as a wink, Mary V. opened the bus door, would you believe it? Up on the bus step, comes a little cub. However the mama was right behind him. A.J. slammed the door shut. I am sure that, had we started down the road with this bear family, we would have soon made the head lines.

That night, we were late trying to find a camping place. Then near the Yellowstone River, A.J. spotted a vacant spot among some trailer houses and campers. There was even an electrical hook up. He swung the old bus in to the spot, and got out, to plug it in. Just then a man popped out of a trailer, amazed at such gullible people. This was not a camping spot; however, we were allowed to spend the night there. Thank you Lord.

The next morning, we exited our free space in a hurry, and headed on for home. There was only one problem; A.J. hadn’t gotten to do all the fishing that he had wanted to do.

So, near Yellowstone Lake, he found a spot, to pull the bus off the road. He put on his waders, grabbed his tackle box and pole, and headed off into the water. Roy and Rod, didn’t have waders along, they declined to join him. We all waited, and waited, for several hours, no sign of the fisherman. We were beginning to get quite concerned, when at last, A.J. climbed up the river bank, and headed for the bus. He was shaking and was as white as a sheet (A.J. doesn’t get shook easily) He had almost drown, his waders had filled with water, and he had a very difficult time saving himself. (Once again, praise the Lord).

On another occasion that we had visited Yellowstone Park, we had my Aunt Gertrude, (from Ontario, Canada) and her two grand daughters, Amy and Beth with us. Aunt Gertrude despised the sulfur smells in the park and she planned on just staying in the car. A.J. opened the car door and said We didn’t bring you all the way here, for you to miss seeing the sights. Later we exited out of the park, near Cooke City.

COOKE CITY, MONTANA

This happened to be a place that A.J. and I hadn’t seen before. Gold was discovered there in 1870. However the development was hindered, because the area was part of the Crow Reservation. In 1882 the boundaries were released, and the mountains were opened up to the awaiting prospectors. I am a very opinionated person, (this gets me in trouble all the time) however I can’t help but wonder what would have happened to the state of Montana, and the other states, if the Native Americans had kept control of the land. I just feel that these people were here first and that justice wasn’t done to them, when they lost control.

We spent the night in Cooke City. We were low on gas, but it was very pricey there, so when A.J. saw the sign that Red Lodge, Montana, was only 60 miles away, he said, We can make it there. Yeah right, this is mountainous area; we are on the Beartooth highway which has an elevation of over 10,000 feet. We climbed and climbed. The girls were really enjoying the beauty a long the high way. A.J. was gritting his teeth and keeping the pedal to the medal. I was breathlessly watching the gas needle go down, down down. Aunt Gertrude’s eyes were closed; her feet were pushing through the floor board.

She was praying. Her prayers were answered. We did make it into Red Lodge, stopping at the first gas station that we saw. The big old Ford had exactly one gallon of gas left in the tank. There were no cell phones in those days. If you got into trouble, you just hoped that some kind good hearted person would happen to come along and help you out.

RED LODGE, MONTANA

In 1851, this town was ceded to the Crow Indians. Later coal and gold were discovered there. In 1882, the Crow allowed the area to be settled and European people began rushing in and it became a large settlement.

GLASGOW, MONTANA

Our next stay over was to be with Carol and her family in Glasgow.

Glasgow was of course named after the city in Scotland. It was founded by James Hill (a railroader) in 1887. It lies in North Eastern Montana. It features the Valley Pioneer Museum which, really flourishes with Montana history. There are exhibits ranging from remains of dinosaurs, to the Lewis and Clark expedition, Fort Peck and the Great Northern Railroad.

Glasgow grew rapidly during the 1930’s, when President Franklin Roosevelt authorized the construction of the Fort Peck Dam, which lies just 20 miles from Glasgow.

OLD FORT PECK

Old Fort Peck was an old trading post that was built on a bluff above the Missouri River, it had a good wharf. Steamboats would stop there to pick up cargo, and then go on to Fort Benton, Montana. Politics were running strong there in 1871. The Milk River Indian Agency, consisted of several Indian Tribes, two of which were the Assinaboine, and the Sioux, Old Fort Peck was finally abandoned due to the Missouri River washing away the ledge upon where it had stood.

NEW FORT PECK

It was then re-established, not as an Army Post, but as a temporary military headquarters for military men and government officials, that were sent there to negotiate with the Indians during the period, preceding the historic Custer Massacre. Sitting Bull refused to confer with those sent to manipulate the Indian tribes.

During those days, the Indians of the Fort Peck area were friendly and they didn’t mind visitors. However if a visitor wasn’t familiar with their ways, he might get the shock of his life A visitor might be walking a long a line of poles, look up and "oh my there would be bodies up there. These Natives had a custom of burying their dead, on platforms at the top of poles.

THE FORT PECK THEATER

Established in 1934, and built by the Army Corps of Engineers, this theater is the jewel of the rolling plains. It started right out with a vaudeville type of format(and Swiss Chalet Motif) The over head light fixtures on the ceiling of the auditorium were hand crafted of metal strapping and hand blown glass. The production of live plays there is superbly done by gifted actors and actresses.

After supper the night that we arrived in Glasgow, Carol suggested we take in the play Oklahoma at the Fort Peck theater. A.J. and Aunt Gertrude had both grown travel weary, they stayed home. Carol, Beth, Amy and I went and we truly enjoyed the play.

TALLY LAKE, MONTANA

On this trip, our friend Irene Jackson (from Rudyard, Montana) accompanied us. (After all Irene had mentioned that there was good fishing there). So of course A.J. wanted to go. (No matter that we would be crashing Irene’s daughter Dorla and her family’s summer vacation).

Irene had been to Tally Lake before, and she was trying to direct us, and A.J. thought he knew where he was going. As it turned out, he was wrong, and we drove for miles on a old beat up road. So what else is new? Finally we did find the lake.

There isn’t too much to say about this charming lake, except to tell you that, it is located in the Flathead National Forest in North West Montana. It is at an elevation of 3500 feet, and is one of the deepest lakes in the state.

Dorla, Wayne and kids, were a fun family to visit. We ate, we sunned, and A.J. fished.

(It was turning out to be a peaceful quiet vacation.) Then Irene decided that she would like to take a couple of pine trees home, to put into her yard. A.J. says Okay, lets go digging. Dorla handed him a shovel (with a smirk on her face) and off they went, right past a sign telling them to preserve the forests. They were mumbling as they walked along the road. A.J. exclaimed Naw, that sign wasn’t meant for these trees along the road! And. Irene says No, of course not, these trees will end up getting destroyed anyway, they will be better off with me taking care of them in my yard. (The rest of the story?) That is exactly where the two dug up trees landed, and one of them did a wonderful job of adapting to its new home. I once had a clipping on my fridge that read. An optimist is someone who can convince himself that the No in a parking sign is meant to say Now This person was A.J. my husband.

THE GRAND TETONS WYOMING

At one time coming home from one of our excursions, I had noted a bumper sticker, promoting the Grand Tetons in Wyoming. I made the comment. That can be the next place that we go to see. So during the summer of 1973, we loaded up Mary V, Rod, A.J. and I, and we headed for Wyoming.

A.J.’s cousin Justine owned a campground in Jackson Hole, we hadn’t seen her for a while, it was time for a little visit.

The Tetons are a 40 mile mountain range, with the tallest being the Grand Teton, it has a elevation of 13,770 feet. The other mountains are in the 9000 foot range.

One of the sites there that we enjoyed was the reverent atmosphere of the Chapel of Transfiguration. The worshippers in this Church get to see the wonders of God’s creation The Teton Mountains, as back drop right behind the pulpit.

We enjoyed a chair lift ride. After a little more site seeing, we headed out with Rod at the wheel.

Next it was a speedy drive through Wind River Canyon; believe me, even the wind would have a hard time competing with our young driver, behind the wheel of the old bus. I do somehow remember seeing some lovely pink and red cliff sides.

Soon we found ourselves in Thermopolis Wyoming. We stopped long enough for A.J. to have a dip in one of the mineral pools there. Come on you guys, you’ll get your pores all opened up. But the rest of us declined.

THE BLACK HILLS, SOUTH DAKOTA

We had been making such good time on the road, this trip. We decided we would take in the Black Hills on the way home.

The Black Hills proved to be a very rewarding experience. I personally was quite impressed with Mt. Rushmore, it is just awesome. It seemed to stand still in time.

The planning of the Shrine began in 1915. Idaho born Gutzon Borglum decided to take the job. He was a well known sculptor on the East Coast. Looking up at the shrine, one would never guess that the eyes of the presidents are 11 feet wide and the pupils are 22 inches across. The eyes powered life in to the faces.

This shrine of Democracy was begun in 1927, and completed in 1941. The total cost of the project was $900,000. There is a never ending up keep, there are yearly clean ups and touch ups being done. The name came from a New York lawyer by the name of Charles Rushmore, when he came through the area in 1884. He asked the state host What is this mountain’s name? His host grinned and said Mt. Rushmore All I can say is, That host must have been important in the political realm at that time.

CRAZY HORSE MEMORIAL

The Lacota Indian Tribe was not in favor of Mount Rushmore being carved into that mountain. They considered this mountain to be a spiritual benefit to their people. In response to the Rushmore memorial, the Indian tribe began plans for a memorial to Crazy Horse in 1948. Crazy Horse was born in 1842 and he died info 1877. He was considered to be a great warrior, and a good family man. He refused to be forced to live on an assigned Indian reservation in the Black Hills, therefore he joined Sitting Bull and other warriors and attempted to defeat the armies of Brooks and Custer, they succeeded in defeating Brooks, but by this time, the warriors were running out of food, and becoming weak. When it was apparent that the Lacota’s were going to lose, Crazy Horse gave up. He was later killed at the Brooks army barracks.

Boston born Korczak Ziolkowski, another great sculptor of the time, took on the making of the Crazy Horse memorial project in 1948, he worked on it for 36 years. When Ziolkowski became ill, he asked his wife Ruth and his children to finish the work.

The head of Crazy Horse is 87 ft. 6 in. high, and his face is 88 feet long. The head of the horse is 22 stories high. At the time that we were there, the memorial was not yet completed. The unstable weather in the area and the lack of funding had been the drawbacks in its completion.

THE NEEDLES PARK SOUTH DAKOTA

We left the Black Hills, and we took the 14 mile winding drive through narrow roads, past granite structures, and pine covered mountains on to the next park.

At the west entrance to the park, there is the beautiful Sylvan Lake, it and the Needles Eye are two very picturesque spots to see. The Needles Eye is a granite needle, with a signature eye formed by countless years of rain, ice, snow, and wind. A narrow tunnel goes through this needle. (There was a large WARNING sign, it read: R.V s, and vehicles with large trailers aren’t recommended to enter the tunnel). Now what? Could this mean us? A.J. hesitated, but for a minute. No of course not So enter the tunnel, we did. People near the entrance backed off, not believing their eyes.(They wondered, how is that weirdo going to get that bus to the other end?) Then the noises began, screech, scrunch, by now we are leaving pink paint on the tunnel walls. Oh oh, there went a rear