Moominmama's Adventures

  Wherein Moominmama has a bear of a time crossing the Midwest, facing a near disaster with her Moominhouse but ending happpily among friends... When Moominmama left Gothenburg, Nebraska, it was raining. Omaha, to the east, was in the clear so she figured she'd drive out of the rain in due time. After about two hours of driving and getting passsed by fast-moving semis that sent torrents of water onto her windshield, she pulled into a rest stop and went back into the trailer to get a bite to eat.  The floor and cushions were wet, and when she looked up, there was a 14-inch square hole in her roof. The ceiling fan was gone. Sticking her head out the hole to scope out the roof provided no enlightenment at all. No sign of the thing. And it was raining directly into the trailer. Oh, and it was a Sunday, and there were no dealers or repair services open on God's day of rest in Nebraska. A large quantity of duct tape later, the water was at least directed to a spot where a dishwashin...

In which Moominmama explores the Nebraska plains and its history along the Oregon trail... Moominmama is parked in a municipal campground in Gothenburg, Nebraska, across from the Roping Club, which maintains the local rodeo ground and runs the annual rodeo each July.  On arrival at the campground, I was invited to a fundraising supper for the Roping Club -- so I went. This gave me a chance to meet some Gothenburg locals who were interested to learn I'd come to visit because I once lived in their town's namesake, the city of Gothenburg (or Göteborg) Sweden. Plus I got advice on some places to see, including their local historical museum and a preserved Pony Express station in the center of town. By the time I arrived at the historical museum the next morning, word had spread, and I was asked if I was the woman who'd come to the Roping Club supper the night before. This is a small town in every sense of the word! (Population 3,500.) Exquisitely maintained lawns, farm fields a...

In which Moominmama takes a mental break, returning to Fruita and Grand Junction in Western Colorado... After a week of epic hikes in Utah and little contact with the outside world, Moominmama has returned to a location she visited last year. This provides a welcome opportunity to relax the brain. I know where the supermarket is. I know where the library and town pool are. I know a great pizza place for lunch. This is a welcome break from locations where absolutely everything is new and unfamiliar. I am still in canyon country, but unlike the awe-inspiring heights and towering canyon walls of Capitol Reef or Arches, hiking here is more like being in a nice church than the Notre Dame. Hikes here allow me to appreciate some of the little things, like these small daisy-like flowers. These were only about 6-inches tall and appeared to grow right out of the red sandstone, though I suspect there's a crack under there that provides for the roots. Flume Canyon in McInnis Canyons Conservat...

Wherein Moominmama learns about the Waterpocket Fold and explores a national park that nearly got named Wayne Wonderland... It is almost impossible to convey the scale of Utah's cliffs and canyons in a photograph if you're not Ansel Adams. Instead, Moominmama asks you to scroll closely in the top photo where the sun hits the sand. There you will see two tiny figures hiking ahead of me, and maybe then you get a sense of the scale of just one canyon in the national park known as Capitol Reef. The photo at right shows Fruita Valley, a desert oasis where the national park campground is located at the foot of the red cliffs and along a narrow river. Having visited Zion and Bryce last year, I came across a reference to the Waterpocket Fold. Curious about this unusual geographic feature, Moominmama made a reservation this year in Capitol Reef to learn what this was and what it looks like. What I found in Capitol Reef was a little valley paradise without the crowds of the bigger parks....

In which Moominmama makes a mistake and seeks ways to keep her cool... It turns out smart campers abandon the Phoenix valley by April for good reason. Temperatures in Phoenix today (Sunday) are headed to 98°. Fortunately, Moominmama is not in the city but on the outskirts. Still, the sun has been relentless, and temperatures moved in the high 80°s the last several days. Given I had a week's reservation before my next stop, Moominmama had to think carefully about her daytime activities. One plan involved a two hour's drive to higher (and cooler) elevation in Sedona, where I'd heard of the red rocks and creative community. A morning walk on rust-colored trails plus a bit of scrambling up stone steps got me to the Devil's Bridge above. Another popular activity on this trail is apparently adding to this collection of little cairns at the edge of a cliff face. With the sun climbing and the morning's application of sunscreen wearing thin, I turned to town and followed a r...

In which Moominmama goes on a guided bird walk and learns about the artistry of the Salado cliff dwellers... Moominmama awakes each morning to an orchestra of birds. The funniest of the lot are the male Gambel's quail, which have a dark plume on the top of their heads. It bobs when they peck at the ground or hustle over to the nearest bush. They also make some strange bird calls, one that sounds like a tired squeaky toy, and another to the beat of "Chi-CA-go" as if you'd stepped on and off aforementioned squeaky toy. When I went on a guided bird walk one morning, I had a chance to ask what the quail bird calls were about. Vera, our guide, said they were basically announcing their presence. She also taught us various mnemonic devices for remembering bird calls. Like the owl that hoots: "Are you awake? Me too." Walking to the bath house not long after, I spotted a quail on the limb of a bush, issuing its one-note toot. I imitated -- and that quail took off in ...

Wherein Moominmama laces up her hiking boots and explores the diversity of Arizona's eastern trails... Having made it safely down to the lowlands near Phoenix, Moominmama's first major hike was actually a step backwards and upwards to the Mogollon Rim, a 200-mile escarpment that runs along the east of Arizona, an area I'd crossed with my trailer on the way down to the Superstition Mountains. Arizona has immense public lands with the Tonto National Forest at about 2.9 million acres and the adjacent Coconino National Forest with another 1.86 million acres. The Superstition Wilderness abuts the Tonto, with 160,000 acres.  That's just some of the parkland available on the eastern side of the state, best know for the Grand Canyon National Park in the northwest (1.2 million acres). The White Mountains of New Hampshire and Maine are puny in comparison, coming in at roughly 800,000 acres total. (New York fares better with its 6-million-acre Adirondack Park.) The Rim Country, wi...