Snowmobiling the American West, 2003-2008*

We moved to Missoula, Montana, in 1995, first me, then Vicki and Rachel, in 1996. It snows in Montana, a lot in the high country, some years, not so much really in the western valleys, except a couple years. We figured quite early that a winter recreation would be handy, and the logical choice was skiing, the cross country variety. This delusion lasted one lesson, at the end of which I fell and broke and bruised some ribs. Laughing was very painful for a couple months. The doctor prescribed snow shoes, and the next winter we began going out on weekends to get experience in our brand new Atlas snow shoes. The thing about snow shoe-ing, we noticed, is that it doesn't take you very far. It's really great aerobic exercise, but you're basically slogging along at 1 mph. On short winter days, this means you're never going to get more that a few miles from the parking lot. Unless, of course, you plan on over-nighting in a tent with sleeping bags and all the other paraphrenalia required for comfort. And survival.

Sometime in the late 90s when Rebecca was visiting for Xmas, the four of us rented a couple of two-up snowmobiles and spent a day snowmobiling around Seely Lake and the Swan Mountains, not very far from Missoula. Vicki has always been the driving force in our snowmobile adventures (though rarely the driver), and she was intrigued. I was rather more impressed with the noise and sickening pollution of the two-stroke machines and with the snowmobiling "culture" generally.

A few years passed, and then we spent another weekend examining the snowmobile thing from West Yellowstone, with two exceptional days in the Park. The rental machines, even then in the early 00s, were the new and relatively quiet four-stroke machines. I was impressed. The Park had not yet required them, but the matter was under discussion, and one could see that if snowmobiles were allowed at all, they would have to be the four-strokers. 75dB. And far less pollution than any of the three million cars, busses, and trucks that traverse the Park annually. And then there were the extraordinary sights to see and experiences to have on the trail. We both were impressed.

So much so that we bought a 2003 Bombardier, a two-up Grand Touring Ski-Doo, with a 1000cc Rotax engine, that had a season's prior use as a rental in Yellowstone. Very light use and low mileage. And then we rigged it up with gear and saddle bags and everything we figured we would need for longer distance snow touring and emergencies. And bought the obligatory snow suits and helmets and boots and gloves. (Beware any hobby that requires a special wardrobe; especially with 12v connections for heat). And a trailer, first the cheap, light open variety and then a more substantial, enclosed 12 footer. We already had a small 4WD truck/camper. And then we spent the next five seasons snowmobiling all over western Montana, Wyoming, and Idaho, paradise for anyone interested in "getting out there," mountain snowmobiling and seeing some of the West's great sights in winter.

In five years of this, we never encountered any friends, colleagues, associates, or even acquaintances who were into snowmobiling. (Except the superintendent of Yellowstone, but that's another story.) The disapproval (and misunderstanding) was always a bit less than overt among green friends and associates. My several NPS friends did give me a hard time over it, now and then, but it was always good-natured and cognizant of the fact that we owned probably the only tree-hugging four-stroke machine in Montana at the time. And, unlike practically everyone else, winter had become our favorite season!

Our truck and trailer in the later years; except for the year
I turned the truck over on Homestake Pass near Butte; both
sold in 2008, when we sold everything...except the
snowmobile itself, which remains in storage in Missoula;
and for sale...

Vicki on our rig, the Swan Mountains in the background;
we made many trips to Seely and environs, and several
times did or tried the long run from there to Lincoln

Snowmobiling somewhere in Montana

Plenty of snow most years

On the summit of Big Mountain, a ski area near Whitefish

Near West Yellowstone, the Tetons in the distance

Vicki playing in the snow

Me resting

Alas, it was not all fun and games; a 1000cc machine, with
two people and much gear aboard, is heavy; it took us
quite a few tries to learn that we could never ever get off
the groomed trail; here I am digging us out on the Grassy
Lake Trail, which connects Ashton, ID with the Flagg
Ranch in WY, more about which anon

After too many of these experiences,
riding mostly alone but frequently
benefiting from the kindness of other
snowmobilers, we finally bought
and carried a winch, which we used
more than once; a lot more than once

*from the Archives of the Sherouse Family Digitization Project

Still More Europe, 1979*

Gruyere, or was it Emmentaler?

At length we did make it to Venice and
a few other towns in northern Italy

And then back north to Salzburg, in Austria, the ancestral
Scheraus home

And still further back north, to Bayreuth and Wagner's
Haus Wahnfried, back in the days before the "no fotos"
policy

And then, moving right along, through the Rhine, etc., to
Merry Olde England

Taking the same shots at Canterbury I did when I was last
there, in 2009;  comparing the 600 35mm slides I took in
1979 with those of the last few years in Europe, I am struck
by the many similarities in subject, composition, etc; I am
not quite sure whether to be pleased or concerned

We spent most of our time in or around London; this was about as
close to Scotland as we got in 1979

But we did make it up to Stratford

And out to Stonehenge, back in the days when you could
walk right out to it and touch the stones; the beginning of
our megalithic interests

All in this brown (ick!) Austin Mini, rented for a week; it's
amazing how much crap you could pile into a Mini

The End

*from the Archives of the Sherouse Family Digitization Project

More Europe, 1979*

The d'Orsay wasn't in the train station in those days

Montmarte, Basilica of the Sacred Heart; still where it
was then

No longer there department: the Cafe Wagner (commemorating the infamous
Paris  debut of Tannhauser) across from the old opera; I remember a young
store clerk laughing at our pronunciation of "opera"

And on to Versailles

And the Loire...

With many fine pique-niques along the
way

The amphitheater at Autun that we skipped last July

Our first visit to Lauterbrunnen

At the cemetery in Zermatt, the grave of the famous Swiss guide Michel Croz,
who died in the Matterhorn's first descent

After three days and two freezing nights, this was all we
got to see of the Matterhorn

To be continued...

*from the Archives of the Sherouse Family Digitization Project

Europe, 1979*

And so it came to pass that in June, 1979, The Ohio State University conferred upon me the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, in philosophy; after a mere 9 years in graduate school. In my defense, I offer that I actually earned 3 degrees in that time, including the one that eventually lead me into university and non-profit administration, where I would spend the next 28 years. Even before my graduation became certain, Vicki announced that she was going to Europe that summer and that I was welcome to join her if I got my work done. Fortunately, in the eyes of my advisor and dissertation committee, I did. After the graduation--the only one of 4 I attended--we shipped daughter Rebecca off to Miami to stay with her grandparents and then, in the usual whirlwind of activity, departed for 5 weeks of car-camping in Europe. It was our first trip abroad and, with some 30 years' perspective, I can say now that it was immensely formative for us both.

The Graduate, and family, on the porch of our Minerva Park home; my parents
drove up from Miami for the occasion; a moment of great pride and relief, although
I still have nightmares about getting the dissertation done; upon graduation and as
we embarked for Europe, I was, of course, completely unemployed; but that worked
out all right; eventually

At a rice table in Amsterdam; I had always liked food, but 1979 was my
introduction to fine and interesting food, and a foodie thus was born; it only
got better

The caramel Opel from which we tent-camped and toured much of Europe
in the next month

At the Rijksmuseum was born our interest in Brueghel and ilk, which lasts to
this day

We spent a week or more in the Netherlands, Delft
 and the coast, and then Brussels and Brugge; but then
had to move on to Paris...here, St. Chapelle, for the
first of many visits

Among scores of Paris sights...

Vicki, atop the Eiffel Tower; the postcard was for
Rebecca

The Trocadero, and more of Paris

Napoleon's tomb, at the Invalides

First visit to the Louvre

To be continued...

*From the Archives of the Sherouse Family Digitization Product.

Vernal Yosemite

The waterfalls of Yosemite are at their fullest in the spring, we had a few days off, and so drove back over to the park to see them, staying two cold nights at Curry Village. But three nice days of hiking and driving.

In addition to all the usual waterfalls, there were some new
ones too; temporarily

Here, Yosemite Falls crashing down its 2400 feet to the valley; highest in North
America, 6th or 7th highest in the world

I wasn't the only one taking pix

More seasonal falls

Next day, Upper Yosemite Falls; note Lost Arrow Spire to
the right of the Falls

From the top of the Falls; plenty more snow in the high
country

Yosemite Creek just as it plunges to the Valley below

The western dogwoods were in full bloom (you can tell
them by their bark) (nyuk, nyuk, nyuk)

Another day, another hike...Nevada Falls

Vernal Falls

All a-bud along Tenaya Creek

Half Dome above Mirror Lake

Bridalveil Fall

Bridalveil from afar

And what account of Yosemite water features would be complete without Hetch
Hetchy, the dam?

And reservoir? and canyon, itself with great waterfalls...OK, I know it has always
been controversial, and still is; Grand Teton National Park has a commercial airport
within its boundaries; and Mt. Rushmore is an abomination unto itself...

Source of the Hetch Hetchy water system, which brings water from the Tuolomne
River, via the reservoir, and 170 miles of pipeline, under San Francisco Bay,
up the peninsula, ultimately to San Francisco; as alert readers know, our present
abode sits nearly on top of the main (buried) pipeline; I guess you could say we
live on the Tuolomne River...