Since I've returned from the roadtrip, I've been feeling blah. I guess it's a bit of a wanderlust hangover, knowing that the end of the roadtrip signals the beginning of the school year, and when I need to go back to work. So, yesterday, I made the effort to get out of the house by going fishing before heading down to Kettler Capitals Iceplex for a skating session for season ticket holders.
Pat has started calling the Weverton Cliffs area on the Potomac the "community pool," and sure enough, there were some people wading when I got to the end of the first path out to the river. I don't understand the people who wade and swim in areas where I lose a ton of lures (and their associated hooks), but that's their problem. Anyway, I moved a bit upstream, and with my Under Armour Bozeman boots, had no problem traversing some marshy area to get out to a group of rocks to fish from.
It ended up being a frustrating two hours of fishing. Early on, I had a fish on a Whopper Plopper that escaped. I switched over to a swimbait, and had a hit.... that evaporated when the line broke; I could clearly see the dark shape swim off with my lure. I had another one on a swim bait that again escaped during a leap into the air.
I should have brought a cup. I could have at least come home with a ton of crayfish.
How many crayfish can you find in this photo?
Just before I was ready to leave, I was visited by Mr. Sneaky-snake. I'd seen this snake swim by maybe a half-hour earlier, and then it came back to poke around in the rocky area directly in front of me. It decided to swim up and poke its head out just feet from where I was standing.
I actually hissed at it to make it go away
My first thought was that it was a copperhead, but Pat says it could have been a "northern watersnake." It was a bit pale brown compared to all of the northern watersnake photos I could find. But, when it swam, it was completely underwater, which I don't think is characteristic of copperheads. I didn't get close enough to see the shape of its head.
The trip down to Arlington for the skating session was awful. Traffic was more miserable than usual, and then of course both Elizabeth and I miss out on winning cool prizes by only a few numbers. We had 273165 and 273265, and 273163 and 273267 were called. :( We consoled ourselves at the former World of Beer location just a block or so away, before calling it a night.
So, this morning, I woke up wanting revenge on the fish who'd escaped me.
I decided to try my luck at Taylor's Landing, and chose poorly. Ninety minutes in, and nothing. No nibbles, just several lost lures.
Giving up there, I drove out to Dam 4. Last time I'd done these two in conjunction, I'd caught nothing at Dam 4, but a smallmouth and a walleye at Taylor's Landing.
My first spot, I was vying with two idiots that if I didn't know any better, I'd just call them frat boys. Loud, obnoxious, and just trying to be disruptive. I just kept casting, and didn't say a word. They quickly got tired of trying to antagonize me, but they'd clearly scared the fish away. When I was sure they'd left the area (and so wouldn't think they'd "won"), I moved further downstream from the dam.
I cast for about fifteen minutes with nary a nibble. I moved further downstream and tried again. Nothing. I moved a total of four times before I found a place with fairly calm water, albeit a huge log about five feet off shore. It was going to make casting interesting if I wanted to reel in directly in front. I opted to cast so that I was bringing in the bait at an angle to the log, and hopefully missing it.
Now, I'd been trying everything I had. Topwater (Zara Puppy and Whopper Plopper). Swimbait (Reaction Innovations Little Dipper and BPS Sassy Sally). TRD Finesse Worms. Nothing was getting even sunfish bumps. So, I went back to my old school setup -- the Spider Classic hook with a BPS Sticko Split-tail worm (minnow color).
The second cast, I felt something, and figured it for a sunfish (which I'd seen chasing some of my bait on the way in). I was wrong.
I'm probably the only person who is disappointed to catch a walleye
It was a skinny little thing, and came in just over eleven inches. Figures, considering I now have a stringer to keep the larger ones! I tossed it back and kept casting, only to lose the lure a few moments later.
I put on a swimbait and promptly caught another walleye; again, it wasn't quite twelve inches. All I could think was that Pat was going to be upset that I'd caught two walleye, and couldn't keep either one.
The swimbait was pretty beat up after the walleye (as usual), so I swapped it out for another one. A few more casts, and I'd gotten it hung up on a log (not the one I could clearly see) twice, bad enough that the hook was slightly bent. It was getting close to six, and I was thinking I should go home, but I wanted one more cast. Just one more.
I tossed out the line, then actually started walking downstream as I reeled it in, to try to avoid both the visible log as well as the one I'd gotten hung up on the past two casts. Then it hit, hard. I knew it had to be a smallmouth. I set the hook and reeled for all I was worth. When I saw the fish, I thought, OMG, it's a monster.
A good 14-15" fish, and a hell of a fighter
I think it looked like a monster right off because of how skinny the walleye were. Still, this fish was feisty, and it was hard for me to even get it off the hook. It was thrashing so much, the swimbait flew off, and I was nervous I'd end up with the naked hook in my hand. Obviously, it calmed down enough that I was able to grab it by the lip and remove the hook.
Since I was pretty satisfied by that last cast, I packed it up afterwards and headed home. Pat scowled at me when I returned, but I will put money on us going fishing this weekend, and him outdoing me. :) Though I might catch more walleye.... ;)
Pat woke me up this morning, saying, "I'm going to go fishing, bye!" I was groggy and was confused. Then he said, "Just kidding."
I was a bit more confused. Was he going fishing or not? I pondered this for a bit, until I heard the ice maker dispensing product. I got up and went to the kitchen. "Are you really going fishing?" He said yes. "Can I come?" He said yes. So I got changed and loaded my Bass Pro Shops Megacast and the Abu Garcia Vendetta into the Lightning, along with my tackle bag.
He wouldn't say where he had in mind on the trek down MD100 to I-70. I thought maybe he'd head to the Monocacy Aqueduct, since I'd had some success there on Wednesday. Or maybe to the Lander Road boat ramp near the Catoctin Aqueduct, since he's talked about going there previously, but I'm not sure if he actually has. In the end, it turned out that our destination was the Antietam Aqueduct, where we often camp (and have reservations for next weekend).
Oops. I did it again.
I started off upstream of Antietam Creek while he wandered downstream somewhere. The first place I went, there were four college-aged kids, along with a pool raft. I turned around and went just a little further downstream to another area with enough open air for me to fish from shore. Sadly, it was only about a 100yds downstream from the brobeans and their girls. While they splashed around and the girls "tee-hee-heed" to some really awful commentary, I tried a Reaction Innovations Little Dipper (lost it in the rocks) and then settled on a TRD Finesse Worm. The Ned Rig was getting some interest, but for the most part, no actual bites. I had one fish almost hooked, but it jumped and the hook went one direction while the fish went elsewhere.
Hearing one of the girls say that they needed to leave by 10AM was heartening. They cleared out around 9:40, and I thought maybe some action would come back. Just some tap-tap-taps, but nothing else. By 10AM, I was done in this area, and figured I'd look elsewhere.
I knew that Pat and I had biked further down from the creek previously, but I couldn't remember how far down. I hiked down to a trail I semi-remembered from a prior trip; it was steep, and it was tough to get out an area where I could cast from shore without getting tangled up in trees or other vegetation, but before long, I was set up. I tossed the TRD Finesse Worm a few more times before it got caught on something, and I laid down that rod.
It was about my third or fourth cast with the Spanish Fly Little Dipper that I felt a hit. It felt like a hard hit, but when I went to set the hook, it seemed more like a big branch. Still, there seemed to be something on the other end, and the closer it came to shore, the more it acted unbranchlike. Finally, I could see it through the water, and my heart dropped.
Using the Megacast as an impromptu ruler
It was a walleye. And I still didn't have a stringer to keep it until we were ready to go home.
Of course, it had to be bigger than the walleye I caught before my Acadia trip.
This one would measure in over 17 inches. It would have made a tasty fillet tonight, but sadly, I tossed it back into the river, hoping to meet it again one day.
These teeth are no joke!
I had to switch out my swimbait after the walleye, because it was pretty beat up. I replaced with the same thing, still the Spanish Fly coloration, and shifted a bit to my left so that I could safely cast away from some downed trees.
It didn't take long to get another hit, and this one was, as Pat likes to say, angry!
A good 13-14" fish
I didn't have my Megacast nearby, nor a ruler, so my best gauge said this was a 13-14 inch fish, though I initially thought it was bigger. It sure fought like a bigger fish, but that's what smallmouth bass are known for, right?
Little fish
I had to do some damage control after that bass, as somehow I'd managed to cut my finger. Fortunately, I have a mini-first aid kit in my tackle bag, and after I got cleaned and bandaged up, I was ready to catch some more fish.
The first few casts were awkward, as the bandage really interfered with what I was doing. Once I got used to the lack of sensation when casting due to the bandage, I was on a roll again, before I shifted a little further to my left, even closer to a weedbed and a rocky area. Lo and behold, I caught another smallmouth, a dinky little 9-10 inch thing.
Then Pat texted that he was done and waiting for me back at the truck. It was time to pack up and head out. :(
Evidently, he had only landed one smallmouth, and lost another while using a topwater lure. :(
I should note that I shouldn't have been surprised to catch a walleye here, as Pat had caught one about a mile further up the river when we'd camped during the beginning of my Spring Break. He'd even caught it on a Reaction Innovations Little Dipper.
We headed over to my mom's in Sharpsburg to say hello to her and the spaz dog before heading home. Bruce was, as always, super happy to see Pat.
One more week until the road trip, so I know we'll be back here next weekend! :)
Western Nebraska isn't much different, visually, than Wyoming or South Dakota.
The previous night, mom had expressed interest in going to Agate Fossil Beds, saying it was "right next door" to the Robidoux RV Park. Well, the guide she was going by had mislocated Agate by saying it was in Gehring; it was over fifty miles to the north. Still, when I sat down and planned out our day, I figured if we left the RV Park by 7AM, we could do Agate, Scott's Bluff and the two Pony Express Stations easily.
So, we left just before 7, and headed up towards Agate Fossil Beds National Monument. Like Fossil Butte and John Day, it is a post-Jurassic, Miocene era fossil site; no dinosaurs here. The visitor center also includes a rare look at Lakota Sioux artifacts given by Red Cloud and his family to the original ranch owner, James H. Cook.
Cook's "bone barn"
Paleocaster, an ancient burrowing beaver found within the strange daemonelix structures that were originally thought to be fossilized tree roots. We know now that the daemonelix is a fossilized burrow.
Hiking out to the two hills (University and Carnegie) where the bone beds were discovered was out of the question, partly because of mom's knee, but also because we'd been told there were no fossils on display any more due to past vandalism. I did stop by the Daemonelix Trail on the way out of the park, which was about a mile.
Flower along the trail
This daemonelix was over six feet tall
More flowers along the trail
From Agate, we headed back towards Scottsbluff and the National Monument there. In the visitor center, we saw quite a few fossils (especially turtles), and learned that the bluff was named for a fur trader who died there on the Oregon Trail.
A model of a wagon odometer. I didn't get a picture of the full-size thing when we were at the California Trail Interpretive Center.
Along the Oregon Trail
After exploring the visitor center and the Oregon Trail area, we drove up to the summit.
Looking down towards Scottsbluff and Gehring
While there, we were approached by a group of motorcyclists who asked about the RV. It turned out they were also from Maryland, and had been at the Sturgis Rally the previous week. Not only were they from Maryland, but one of the guys was from Glen Burnie, and another was from Frederick. Small world.
We drove past Chimney Rock on our way out of the area, towards I-80, and should have stopped. Mom thought it was just a state historic site, but it turns out that it actually is a National Parks Passport stamping location. Oh well.
Ogallala was where we got back on I-80, and we'd be on the interstate (80 or the linked ones 76 and 70) for most of the rest of our trip. Our last two stops for day fifteen were original-but-relocated Pony Express Stations, one in Gothenburg and one in Cozad. The Gothenburg one is in better condition, and is used as a gift shop. The Cozad one is just an historical stop in the town's park.
Gothenburg Pony Express station
Cozad Pony Express station, the Willow Island stop
The drive to Agate and extended time at Scottsbluff saw my anticipated stop in Council Bluffs not happening. So, we opted to call it a night in Grand Island, which wasn't very far from where the Rallycross Nationals were held. As a result, we did see several westbound rallycrossers on I-80 on Sunday afternoon/evening.
The obligatory "I'm driving I-80 west through Kearney" photo
With two days left, and the itinerary pretty much done, we decided to stop in Lincoln on Monday morning to see what the State Natural History museum at the University's Morrill Hall held. Turns out, it has a ton of fossils, primarily because Nebraska is apparently one gigantic bone bed.
Oh, yeah, Morrill Hall is just outside Memorial Stadium
Mammoths
Four tusker elephants
Equus excelsior
Poor turtles
Smilodon and dire wolf
Bone bed from Agate
Giant tortoise with recreated skin based off the Galapagos tortoise
Pleiosaur head. The entire skeleton was monstrous, and actually in the floor
One part of the fossil exhibit was Highway Paleontology. Like the Vore Buffalo Jump we'd visited earlier in our trip, many fossils in Nebraska are discovered during road construction. Because of that, there is actually a highway paleontology division that is present during road construction in the state.
The road they were found on is indicated
The latest highway paleontology find. This one was over two and a half feet long.
There were also some dinosaur fossils present. Not as many dinosaurs are found in Nebraska as in Utah or Wyoming.
Stegosaurus has a really small head
Allosaur
The museum also had a rocks and minerals display on the third floor, as well as a natives exhibit and an "Exploring Evolution" room. We didn't spend as much time on the non-fossils displays.
Frankly, I'm shocked that I didn't know how awesome this museum is until we visited. All the times I've been in Lincoln for Nationals, plus passing through on trips to Wendover and on the way home from Packwood....
A giant HIV model in the "Exploring Evolution" exhibit
See you.... sometime, Lincoln
From Lincoln, we drove as far as we could so that Toledo and home were doable for Tuesday.
A bed of flowers at an Iowa rest stop. Seemed to be a rest stop for a variety of butterflies as well
This meant our latest stop ever -- 9PM -- in Indiana at the Lakeside RV Resort. The manager was really nice though, and met us at the office and she and her son were really helpful with getting us situated for the night. We even were given a little gift bag (an insulated lunch bag) with cups and hot/cold packs, which was neat.
Toledo was the last point of interest, and we have two places to go. The first was a stop at the Fish Market to see if they had walleye.
The answer was "yes!" and so I bought two large fillets for Pat and we stuck them in the freezer.
Then we headed over to the Toledo Museum of Art. Mom's first experience as we entered wasn't exactly pleasant. An overzealous docent with a lazy eye looked at me and said that there was a "new policy" and "over-the-shoulder bags had to be hand held." And then she kept looking at me, and I put my hands out to the side, saying "What are you talking about? I don't have a bag!" Then she looks at mom and says, "Well, she does." So, mom sighs and moves to secure the bag (actually a convertible fanny pack) around her waist, and the docent says that's not acceptable either. I'm rolling my eyes, mom's ready to just leave, and I grab her bag and say, "Let's just go" to get away from the woman. Meanwhile, others are coming in with shoulder straps and none of the other docents are saying anything. I kind of wanted to hit the restroom, and started that way, when mom is still perturbed by the docent's attitude. Another woman going into the restroom overheard her, stopped and said, "Are you serious?" We both nodded, and the other woman said something to the effect of, "That's bullshit."
We went upstairs and then outside to cross Monroe Street to the Glass Pavilion. Mom took her bag back, slung it over her shoulder, and guess what? The pleasant docent there opened the door for us, remarked on the beautiful weather they were having, and didn't say a word about shoulder straps.
[for the record, the "collection safety" section on the museum's website only mentions "umbrellas, backpacks and other bulky items"]
So, mom calmed down and we perused the glass collections.
Nematocyst, Robert Mickelsen, 1998.
Greek Gods vs. Norse Gods glass chess set, part of the Play Time exhibit
We made our way over to the main building, and again, the docent welcoming us in didn't say a word about mom's bag. We checked out the ancient civilizations gallery, then moved back through the main lobby towards the Claude Monet mom had seen when we came in. The lazy eyed docent was now in the lobby, but we ignored her and I couldn't help but notice she wasn't saying anything to anyone. I have to wonder if someone finally said something to her superior for badgering the guests.
Anyway, we looked through some of the other paintings and finally headed out, as we needed to be on the road really by 12:30 to be home at a reasonable time. I had kind of wanted to see some of the interactive Play Time installations, but I was started to become annoyed by children who were allowed to run (literally run) around in the regular galleries, so it wasn't worth the irritation. I can't imagine how the guards hadn't already had heart attacks over potential damage to some of the artwork. We saw a small child running through gallery 35, trailing his hand against the wall, moments from trailing his hand across Monet's Water Lilies. As it was, he barely lifted his hand as he ran past the painting, and his mother said nothing. SMH
Children everywhere in the museum should have been accompanied by an adult, or someone who acted like one
The rest of the trip was thankfully uneventful.
The Allegheny Tunnel on the Pennsylvania Turnpike
We pulled into the driveway at nearly 8PM exactly, and we'd only been there for maybe five minutes when Pat pulled in. As soon as I saw him, I yelled, "Bruce!" and the spaz dog started jumping around in the cab of the Lightning.
It took about an hour to unpack things from the RV and transfer them either into the house or into the Camaro. Of course, it also took me nearly ten minutes just to figure out what I'd done with the keys to the Camaro. I still managed to leave several things behind, but oh well.
Sorting through the post cards I got and starting to put them in an album on Wednesday, it turns out that I came home with 248 cards. I did get an excessive number of post cards of various military planes and jets when I was at the South Dakota Air and Space Museum, as well as from the Wendover Historic Airfield. It was still more than I expected.
It was a long journey, but oh, so short. It was sad. It was joyous. It was frustrating. It was awesome.
There were many times that I woke up in the middle of the night thinking I shouldn't be there, that it was dad's place to be in that bed. I dreamed of him several times during the trip. But I was also happy for the time with my mom, to be able to share some of my favorite places with her, as well being able to see things together for the first time.
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