Day 15 - Thursday, 9/17/26 : Family Time

Day 15 — Thursday, September 17, 2026

Family Time

We have settled into a nice routine since arriving at Lebanon Hills Regional Park on Sunday.

After a restful night, often accompanied by rain showers periodically tapping away on the roof of our motorhome, we awaken slowly. We take turns getting up and taking Taddy out for his predawn walk, then come back, start the coffee and crawl back into bed while it percolates. Sometimes we doze off. Sometimes one or both of us check our phones for emails, text messages and Facebook posts.

Often we review images captured by the security cameras around the Umpqua Outback Stage to make sure there were no problems overnight from people wandering through the area. So far, we are satisfied that the solar cameras are doing their job. When someone approaches and the cameras light up the space, they generally make a U-turn and head elsewhere.

I find it fascinating that we can be nestled away in our motorhome 1,700 miles from home, two hours ahead of Pacific Time, and still peek in on our little corner of Roseburg.

This morning, after our slow awakening, I got up and took Tad for another walk while Janice worked on her computer. When we returned, I made scrambled eggs while Janice worked on her blog entry from the previous day.

It’s fun trading off days writing the blog. It usually takes an hour or two to review pictures from the previous day, write the story and assemble everything on our phones before publishing it in our blog app and sharing the entry on Facebook with friends and family.

Trading off also gives each of us time to think and reflect on the previous day. Often, I find myself thinking during the night about what I’m going to write, memories from the day before dancing around in my head.

It was still cloudy and damp until around noon, so after breakfast I did the dishes and tidied up the motorhome. Then I received a WhatsApp message from my cousin Cece saying she would be joining us, rain or shine, to camp at Mille Lacs Kathio State Park, about two hours north of where we are staying now.

Cece’s message was the first ray of sunshine on a cloudy morning.

We are really looking forward to spending more quality time with her and with others who might join us this weekend.

All of the campsites at Lebanon Hills that can accommodate us have been reserved for months on the weekends. Oddly, there are plenty of campsites restricted to RVs under 24 feet or tents, even though many of those sites could easily accommodate our 28-foot motorhome.

Instead, we are relegated to a campground where we feel as though we have entered the Land of the Giants. Our moderately sized motorhome is dwarfed by RVs much taller and longer than our little rolling cabin. It’s actually kind of comical. The long parking pads for rv's seem like miniature airport runways.

After finishing my chores, I left Janice to work on editing and uploading radio shows for KQUA Community Radio. I had promised Tad a long walk and some special time together.

The trails around Lebanon Hills are magnificent. They are immaculately maintained, transitioning from paved trails near the campground to broad dirt paths beneath a canopy of trees, wandering beside lakes and ponds. They are well marked, with trails designated for hiking, skiing and horseback riding.

Tad and I hike happily together, both of us curious about what might be around the next bend.

He has an excellent nose and picks up scents from wildlife, becoming completely focused on deciphering them as though he were reading a note left behind specifically for him.

Tad is the fourth Irish Setter who has been a special part of my life.

My first was a rescue named Barney. My Mom surprised my sister Lynn and me with him when she picked us up after school in Kansas City following a very challenging year in our lives. We were moving from Kansas City down to the Lake of the Ozarks, near our grandparents, where we would live for our final two years of high school.

We welcomed Barney into our family, and my love, perhaps obsession, with Irish Setters has never stopped.

They are joyful, inquisitive, friendly and high-energy, always ready for another adventure.

A lot like me.

It was a wonderful hike together, giving me time to think and reflect about our time here with family, our time together, and the road ahead, both figuratively and literally.

When we returned to the motorhome, I enjoyed a Coke and a frozen chimichanga from Costco.

Simple pleasures...

Then I got out the atlas.

Janice and I started talking about our route when we leave Minnesota in a couple of weeks. We are considering heading north to Thunder Bay, crossing into Canada and traveling east all the way to Quebec City before returning to the United States and heading toward Malone, New York, to visit our friend Jonathan Foster and his wife, Susan.

We hope to follow the fall colors as they sweep south.

We also want to spend some time in Canada sharing goodwill and friendship at a time when we have strong concerns about the direction of policies in our own country. We hope the upcoming midterm elections bring changes we believe would be positive, and we look forward to a time when we feel more hopeful about the direction of our national government.

After doing some roadmapping for our departure from Minnesota, we hopped on our e-bikes for a trip to a nearby Target to pick up supplies before Ashley and the kids came over for the evening.

It was fun riding with Janice. She discovered some beautiful bike trails that we plan to explore more extensively on our next trip to Minnesota.

I continue to be impressed by how wonderfully the e-bikes work with us. They allow us to enjoy the exercise and simple pleasure of biking while taking away the stress and pain of climbing hills.

We feel like kids again! Maybe the next generation of e-bike will enable me to pop an AI-assisted wheelie and I will loudly exclaim Hey Mom, look at me!

We returned home with our bounty, and I bought some firewood and got everything ready for an evening with Janice, my daughter and the grandkids.

My heart sped up with joy when Ash pulled into the visitor parking space near our campsite.

The kids tumbled out of the Jeep, and soon we were all together on a perfect fall evening in Minnesota.

We took a half-mile hike around Wheaton Pond that Tad and I had scouted earlier. It was so much fun hiking with the kids, listening to their chatter as we walked and watching them take turns leading Tad on his leash.

I had a chance to talk with Ash about her wedding in November, while Janice spent time with 12-year-old Rose showing her how to read the trail signs.

When we returned to camp, Bo helped me start the fire and we gathered around it for dinner.

 Odin put on his Spotify playlist, and we all talked and laughed as the sun slowly disappeared and darkness enveloped us, our little gathering illuminated by the warm glow of the fire.

Eventually, Ash and the kids had to leave.

After they drove away, Janice came up behind my camp chair, kissed the top of my head and affectionately massaged my neck.

She knows how special being with my family is to me.

I love her with all my being, and I am so grateful for her support, her understanding and this remarkable time we have together.

Later, after taking Tad for his final walk, we settled into our rolling cabin. We listened to a couple of chapters of our audiobook before quickly drifting off to sleep.

A couple of hours later, I awakened to the unmistakable call of a barred owl.

"Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you-all?"

It sounded incredibly close, almost as though the owl were perched right on top of the motorhome.

I gently touched Janice’s arm, hoping she might wake up and hear it too.

Nothing.

She was sound asleep.

I lay quietly in the darkness and listened.

Tad was there with me.

And somehow it seemed fitting that after a day filled with family, trails, laughter, memories, plans, grandchildren, a glowing campfire and the woman I love sleeping beside me, the day would have one final gift waiting in the darkness.

A barred owl calling through the Minnesota night.

An amazing ending to an amazing day.

And this particular little moment belonged only to Tad and me.

Day 14: Wednesday Sept 16, 2025. Campground Life

The campground is set just off Johnny Cake Ridge Road, so naturally, breakfast called for pancakes. To add a taste of home, we topped them off with delicious homemade applesauce made by our friend Jeri from her own trees. Our morning coffee stretched on for hours as we lounged around the motorhome with nowhere we had to be. We wanted to call Jeri and Woody to tell them we were thinking about them but we are 2 hours ahead of them and they are not early risers.

Kasey spent time digging into a story about his cousin Tommy, details he’d picked up from the papers we were returning to Pam. With copies of old letters providing dates and names, he tracked down where the original media archives were kept. Tommy had lived with cancer until he passed away at age 17, and a news series highlighted his final days. Learning that those video archives were preserved hit Kasey with a wave of emotion, realizing he might actually be able to see the footage if he reaches out to the right archivists. The award-winning series was later turned into a special and touched countless lives. There’ll undoubtedly be more to this story later, but for now, Kasey is simply grateful that Tommy's memory endures.

The weather was delightful, so we  opened the windows and door to catch the breeze. It was a serene morning, right up until it wasn't. Being Wednesday and tucked between rainstorms, the groundskeeper decided it was the prime moment to trim the partially brown, two-inch grass with the noisy riding lawnmower. 

Cutting it once wasn't thorough enough; he made sure every single blade was precisely leveled to 1.5 inches. That meant making several buzzing passes inches from our rig. By the third round, we scrambled to slam the doors and windows shut to muffle the roar.

When Tad gave us "the look," we took it as our cue to go for a walk and leave the mower to his mission. Stepping into the surrounding woods, the noise dissolved almost instantly, bringing immediate relief. It brought to mind the Umpqua Watersheds motto: “More Nature, Less Stress.” It really works. Having the trails all to ourselves, we immersed ourselves in the woods. A pileated woodpecker flew past, a great blue heron glided down toward the water, and Canada geese skimmed across the mirror-still lake. We paused to admire the wildlife while Tad made a few ripples of his own at the shore.

Along the path, we noticed heavy metal rings set in the brush. These containment rings are used by the park’s natural resources team to manage fine fuels. Crews thin out invasive buckthorn and clear excess undergrowth, piling the branches inside the tall rings so staff can burn brush safely without igniting the dry leaf litter on the forest floor.

Looping through the east side, we checked site 85, confirming our coveted spot was still empty. A few other campers were parked nearby, mostly in travel trailers.

By the time we wandered back, our noisy friend on the mower had moved on. Next door, one of the camp hosts was prepping his truck and trailer to head out, finally stowing the unsightly sewer hose that had dominated our view. We reopened the doors, cracked the windows, and flipped on the fan. But just as the fresh air returned, the smell of cigarette smoke forced us to shut things down again. Before long, he drove off. He’s a genuinely nice, helpful guy, impeccably dressed in tan pants and matching shoes, shirt neatly tucked in, looking like he stepped straight off the cover of a Lands' End catalog. I skipped taking a photo to avoid being obvious, but you get the picture.

We played a few hands of cribbage, then hopped on our bikes to grab groceries for an upcoming visit with Ash and the grandkids. Carrying only a backpack and a fanny pack meant sticking strictly to the basics. The ride was smooth, thanks to wide roads and well-maintained bike paths. Kasey couldn't resist picking up a 12-pack of Coca-Cola, though I had serious doubts about how he’d transport it. Watching him strap it down, I had visions of pop cans bouncing across the pavement into traffic and exploding under passing tires. I pleaded with him to let me re-secure the load, and he patiently let me take over.

Shortly after we got back, the family arrived. Kasey already had a fire crackling in the ring, and Ash jumped right in to make grilled cheese, with hot dogs arriving in the second car. The kids were thrilled to be outdoors in the mild weather. Bo immediately made a beeline for the tree line to inspect whatever treasures nature had left—acorns, sticks, and fallen leaves. I warmed up a side of beans and set out the condiments.

Ladderball provided plenty of entertainment as the kids practiced their toss. With our neighbors gone, we had extra space to spread out for the evening. We also reunited Odin with a few items he’d left behind during his visit to Oregon.

As night fell and the family packed up to leave, a damp chill settled over the campsite. We called Jeri and Woody to see how things were in Roseburg and catch up on events. We then hurried around in the twilight, tucking our gear away under cover before the moisture set in.

Day 13: Tuesday, September 15, 2026 - Lebanon Hills Regional Park: Across the Miles and Years

I woke before dawn to Taddy’s request that we get up and discover a new day together. After a rainy Monday, Tuesday promised to be beautiful.

The trails at Lebanon Hills were still cool and damp as we set off in the early morning darkness. Tad earnestly tried to track a bunny while also attending to his necessary morning business along the way.

By the time we returned to the motorhome, daylight had arrived, but the sun was still slowly sneaking up behind the trees on the hill behind our campsite.

I gave Tad a treat, turned up the furnace, started the coffee and crawled back into bed beside Janice. I nestled against her and dozed while the coffee percolated.

Eventually we returned to The Visitor by Craig Falconer, another science-fiction mystery we have been enjoying on the road. We began our day exactly as we had ended the night before: Janice's head resting on my chest as we listened to a couple of chapters together.

After coffee and a light breakfast, I received a text from Ashley. Her wedding-dress fitting had been rescheduled, so after getting the kids off to school she was coming over to see us.

Around 10:00, Ash, as she prefers to be called as an adult, pulled up in the purple Jeep she had gotten since our last visit. Purple was her favorite color as a little girl, and I couldn't help smiling that nearly 40 years later, some things haven't changed.

It was wonderful to see her.

We caught up on her very busy life and then took Tad for a long hike on the trails. Ash and her former husband, Matt, have three kids: Odin, 16; Ike, 14; and Bo, 11. Her fiancé, Orion, and his former spouse have four: Cara, 17; James, 16; Edward, 14; and Rose, 12.

Ash and Orion do an amazing job working as a team to get everyone where they need to go, including three different schools. I am also proud of the respectful relationship Ash and Matt have maintained as they share time with their children. It takes a lot of cooperation, patience and love to make a blended family work.

Ash gave us updates on all the kids and the beginning of the new school year. She and Orion are getting married in November during a cruise to Cabo San Lucas, and all seven kids will be their grooms! I can't imagine the planning involved in pulling everything together. Orion has been working more than 60 hours a week for several weeks, yet Ash says he is always there for her and the kids.

After Ash left, we had a couple of hours before my cousin Pam was coming over so we could take her to lunch for her birthday.

And that's when I discovered a treasure.

Last year, during our Minnesota visit, we scanned hundreds of photographs from my Aunt Jo's photo albums using a high-speed scanner we had purchased for the project. We ran out of time before we could scan a large packet of letters from our parents' cousin Johnny in Norway, so Pam loaned the packet to me. We brought it back to Minnesota on this trip to return to her.

As I looked through it, I noticed a stack of letters and a photograph that I hadn't scanned.

The photograph was of my cousin Tommy.

Tom was 2½ years older than me and was like an older brother. He died of cancer in 1973 when he was only 17 years old.

Inside the photo jacket was a newspaper advertisement from WCCO-TV promoting an eight-part series that had aired as part of the 10 p.m. news about dealing with death. The eighth and final segment featured Tom and his family.

Then I realized what the stack of letters was.

They were letters from viewers who had watched the program and had been moved by Tom's story. Among them was a letter from reporter Don Kladstrup, who had gotten to know Tom and his family well while working on the story.

I sat there reading them and was moved to tears.

More than half a century after Tommy died, here were the words of strangers whose lives had briefly intersected with his. They had watched a courageous 17-year-old boy and his family confront something most of us struggle even to talk about. And then they had taken the time to write.

What an unexpected gift!

Sadly, the videotape of the series that Aunt Jo once had has been lost. I never saw the program myself. I took photographs of the letters and other materials with my phone, and I am going to contact WCCO-TV to see if by some miracle a copy survives in their archives and has been digitized.

Shortly afterward, Pam arrived, and we headed to a nearby Five Guys for her birthday lunch.

We laughed and reminisced about growing up together. Pam and I have always been close. She has always been an excellent athlete, and Tommy was the one who taught us how to throw a football and a baseball. Pam and I played softball and tennis and bowled together as kids, traditions we carried into adulthood.

Sitting across from her at lunch, especially after discovering those letters about Tommy, brought so many memories rushing back.

We returned to the campground and took Tad for another walk. We made plans to get together again next week at Pam's new condominium.

Special times.

Around 5:00, Orion brought Bo and Rose over for a quick visit. It was fun to see them, although our time together was brief. The whole family is coming over tomorrow for a cookout, which should make for a wonderfully lively evening.

Our visit was cut short because at 7:00 we had our monthly two-hour Umpqua Watersheds Board of Directors meeting.

To get a strong enough Wi-Fi signal, Janice and I carried her laptop to a picnic table near the campground office and joined the meeting from there. It was wonderful seeing our friends back in Oregon via Zoom and catching up on the important work everyone continues to do together while we're traveling.

By the time the meeting ended, it was completely dark. We're two hours ahead of Oregon here in Minnesota, which makes those evening meetings feel particularly late!

We walked back to our little rolling home, and I pulled out the final bottle of home-brewed beer that my Brew Brother Al Walker had given me before we left Oregon. It seemed like the perfect excuse to call Al and Trudy and give them an update on our adventures.

They are two of our dear friends, people we spend a lot of time with and frequently camp with. Their dog Tyson is Taddy's best friend. It was simply good to hear their voices.

And so another day came to an end.

It had begun before sunrise with Tad and me walking quietly through the damp Minnesota woods. Along the way there was my daughter, grandchildren, cousin Pam, memories of childhood, a photograph of Tommy, letters written by strangers more than 50 years ago, friends and colleagues gathered on a laptop screen from 1,700 miles away, and finally the voices of Al and Trudy from home.

People separated by miles.

People separated by years.

Some still walking beside us. Some living now only in our memories and in the stories and love they left behind.

Yet somehow, on days like this, they don't seem so far away.

Life is great.

And we are grateful.

Day 12: Sept 14, 2026 Lebanon Hills Campground, Minnesota: turkeys

The rain set the tone early today. It started light, just enough to dampen the pavement while a couple walking their tiny dog came to a sudden halt, confronted by a medium sized, Griffon-looking dog bounding toward them, with a man in a bathrobe in hot pursuit trying to wrangle his wayward pet. It was a funny moment, though it did remind us of the strict pet warnings we’d received earlier.

Between raindrops, we spent part of the morning catching up with family over the phone. We gave Kasey’s local cousin Pam a call to wish her an early happy birthday and invited her out for lunch tomorrow to celebrate.

Before the weather finally cleared enough for a trek, a flock of roaming wild turkeys ambled past our site.

The trails in this campground are impressive for an urban park. Quite nice, groomed and wide in a lot of places. Once the drizzles paused, we went for a walk and found ourselves exploring the east loop of the campground. Back when we stayed here two years ago, we remembered admiring that exact loop, yet somehow we didn't end up staying there then either. Looking around today, we had to ask ourselves the same question: Why didn't we reserve a site over here? The east loop is far more our style, nestled deep within lush tree canopy, mere steps from the walking trail, and filled with spacious sites that could easily accommodate our rig. Sure, they only have electric hookups without water or sewer, but with a dump station right on-site, that wasn't a dealbreaker for us at all.

Driven by inspiration, we walked up to the park office around 12:30 PM to see if we could transfer. To our delight, the staff approved it! We scored Site 85 right by the trail entrance and even got a $93 refund in the process. Excited for the upgraded view, we headed back to the rig and were right in the middle of unplugging and making our getaway when a park staff member pulled up in a motorized cart to throw a wrench in the plans.

He claimed a system error had occurred: the east loop sites cap length at 24 feet, and our rig was supposedly too long. We pointed out that the sites were clearly deep enough, but rules were rules. We were officially banished to the high-density "RV parking lot" section, where you're parked so close your neighbors can practically read your mind.

Kasey headed back to the office to untangle the mess. Naturally, resolving the move, refund, and length policy required calling in supervisors and IT support, stretching the process out so long that he came back to the rig to wait it out. By the time they called him back to pony up the difference, the sky had opened up into a downpour. He waited for a lull to trek back over, while I braved the damp air to unload our bikes from the rack so they'd be ready to ride later.

We made the most of our stay despite the site disappointment. We cleared out the fridge by consuming a smorgasbord of leftover lunches and dinners, took advantage of the  showers, and caught up on laundry (powered by a neat solar hot-water system). 

They even provide convenient bags for recycling, with the list of what they accept printed in the bag.

Later on, we walked back up to the coveted east loop with determination to measure Site 85 ourselves. The gravel parking spot measured a full 42 feet long, at least and our RV is well under 30! The logic remains a total mystery.

So, instead of waking up to serene, forested nature views out our window, we're treated to a front-row seat of our neighbor’s sewer hose connection, the same view 2 years ago! On the bright side, the neighbor decorated their rig with nice little accent lights, so at least we can admire the view after dark. I guess we’ll just be keeping the shades drawn!

Day 11 Sunday, September 13, 2026: West Twin Lake to Lebanon Hills Regional Park - 135 Miles, 3 Hours

An Improbable Day

We woke up after another good night’s sleep in the motorhome at Chuck’s cabin on West Twin Lake. Near sunrise, while Janice worked on completing her blog from Saturday, Tad and I headed out for a long walk to another nearby lake, Lake Edna.

It was a typical cool, crisp Minnesota fall morning, but the bright blue sky and rising sun promised a warmer day ahead. Tad thoroughly enjoyed the walk, exploring all the smells and sights along the way, and I enjoyed simply being outside with my buddy as another beautiful Minnesota morning came to life.

When we returned, my cousin Al was outside sweeping pine needles from the sidewalk. Before long, Janice and I joined Al and Linda for a morning game of Mexican Train.

Linda and Al love playing games as much as I do, and Mexican Train is one of my favorites because it is fast-paced but can last quite a while. More than the game itself, I love the banter, the laughter, and watching everyone as they contemplate their next move. We had such a good time together.

After our game, Janice and I took Tad for another walk to Lake Edna, just north of West Twin Lake.

Minnesota is famous as the “Land of 10,000 Lakes,” but that is actually an understatement. There are 11,842 lakes of 10 acres or larger, and if you include lakes of 2.5 acres or more, the number soars to 21,871!

Our second trip to Lake Edna proved considerably more dramatic than my peaceful morning walk with Tad.

Tad, naturally, decided to go swimming. Afterward, he wandered onto the shoreline into what looked innocent enough but turned out to be a boggy area. Before we knew it, he had sunk into thick, gooey mud nearly to his shoulders!

We called and encouraged him toward shore, and Tad would try to bolt free, only to struggle again in the muck. I began seriously contemplating stripping off all my clothes and wading into the bog to rescue him. Janice, displaying considerably better judgment, suggested that if just let him rest, kept encouraging him toward shore, heroics, and nudity probably wouldn’t be necessary.

Finally, Tad managed to free himself!

I waded into the clear water with him near the boat launch and thoroughly washed the mud from his coat. I was enormously relieved that I wouldn’t have to walk back to Chuck’s cabin naked and covered in mud, looking like the Creature from the Black Lagoon!

Here is a rendering of what that might have looked like had I not heeded Janice's advice.

When we returned to the cabin, Chuck and his partner, Barb, had arrived. We all gathered in the living room for another Minnesota tradition: watching the Vikings play the Packers in the first game of the season.

We contributed to a wonderful pregame charcuterie tray that Linda prepared to help us cheer on the Vikings to victory.

While waiting for kickoff, we advised Chuck on how to can the bushels of tomatoes he had grown in his garden and encouraged him to bring them to the cabin so Linda and Al could help with the process.

I chuckled at the thought that a few decades earlier, a project involving that many tomatoes and the Huff brothers might easily have ended with a playful tomato fight.

Soon it was game time.

Linda and I were the only true fans committed enough to don our Vikings jerseys, although Al did wear his lucky T-shirt.

For the first two and a half quarters, things looked bleak. The Packers completely dominated the Vikings. Then came the moment that changed everything.

Green Bay faced fourth down with only about six inches to go near the Vikings’ 20-yard line, and Minnesota stopped them.

Suddenly, the entire game changed.

From that moment on, we cheered, whooped, hollered, and probably frightened Tad in motorhome a few times as the Vikings came roaring back, scoring 29 straight points and winning 39–22!

Over the years, I have accumulated so many memories of watching Vikings games with my dad, my kids, and my cousins. Football games come and go, and eventually the scores fade from memory. But the people sitting beside you, the laughter, yelling, teasing, celebrating, and simply being together remain.

This was one more very special Vikings memory to add to that collection.

After the game, Linda and Al prepared a spaghetti feast for us, along with a wonderful salad featuring some of Chuck’s freshly grown tomatoes. It was the perfect ending to an already memorable visit.

Then it was time for Janice and me to climb back into our rolling cabin and continue the Grand Adventure.

We had about a three-hour drive ahead of us to Lebanon Hills Regional Park in Apple Valley, where we would camp near my daughter Ashley’s home.

It was difficult saying goodbye to my cousins. We had laughed, played games, shared meals, watched an improbable Vikings comeback, and simply enjoyed being together.

And perhaps that was the theme of the entire day.

Our time together had not been carefully planned. In many ways, it was improbable. But we made it happen.

Life is filled with schedules, distances, responsibilities, and reasons why something might not work. Yet every once in a while, circumstances align and sometimes we help them align and we find ourselves sitting around a table playing dominoes, laughing with cousins, rescuing a muddy dog, cheering wildly for a football team, and sharing spaghetti before saying goodbye.

Those are the moments worth making room for.

As we headed toward Apple Valley, the sadness of leaving was mixed with excitement for what waited just down the road.

Ashley. Her fiance, Orion. My grandkids.

More family.

More memories.

And another chapter of our Grand Adventure waiting to be written.