June 02, 1994 - Coast to Coast and Home, Sweet Home,tune 2, 1994 • The Suffolk Times • SA
Coast to Coast and Home., Sweet Home
By Paul Stoutenburgh
Home again with 13,500 miles behind
us. It all started when we thought
"enough is enough" with the snow this
winter. Actually, we had planned to get
off before March, but one snowstorm
after another prevented us from getting
out of our 300 -loot driveway. Normally
I wouldn't mind, for I rather like the idea
of being snowbound, but when the
camper is packed and you're ready to
go, it's a different
Focus on st °r
y.
The first night
Nature out we stayed at a
motel and from
then on it was
camping every night except for visiting
family and friends along the way. We
first traveled down our eastern seaboard
to Florida, stopping each night at a dif-
ferent place. We crossed the panhandle
of Florida into Alabama, then
Mississippi and Louisiana, enjoying
camping in the Gulf Islands National
Seashore along the way. After the long
ride across Texas, where we have vaca-
tioned before, we arrived in New
Mexico only to find it cold and snowing
in the Guadalupe Mountains and made a
quick exit into Arizona. There we
enjoyed the warmth of the Chiricahua
Mountain area and found the Saguaro
National Monument area, with its hum-
mingbirds, quail, woodpeckers and
curved bill thrashers, appealing that we
stayed for days enjoying sunsets in the
dessert with the giant saguaros all
around us.
California found us in the Yosemite
National Park, which was breathtaking
in its stately grandeur. The redwoods
captured me in their magnificence. The
Avenue of the Giants humbled us as we
drove between the towering monarchs.
We toured the Napa Valley and sampled
some of their wine, which was okay, but
I think our local vineyards outshine
them. (When mentioning we were from
the Long Island wine area, one re-
marked, "Oh, yes, that's where the Har-
graves are. ")
The Pacific Panorama
Oregon and Washington were next on
our venture and we saw some of that
part of the country's great scenery. The
sight of the Pacific brought back memo-
ries of the war years where out on that
great ocean I saw many of those fabu-
lous sunsets the Pacific is so well known
for. We camped along its wide, open
beach and watched the sun sink in all its
glory once again.
In Washington State we visited the
Olympic National Park where we
camped in its dripping moss - covered
forests. Later friends took us to the
North Cascades where six feet of snow
still lay in drifts along the roadsides and
grey jays flitted about looking for a
handout.
We had camped all the way across the
country and found the off - season camp-
ing clean and uncrowded, but tulip fes-
tivals and the
greening of the
trees told us we
should be head-
ing eastward.
On to Idaho and
Utah where we
saw lots of
w i l d l i f e.
Probably the
most memo-
rable was the
sight of western
grebes courting.
Those of you
who have seen
nature shows on
television
would recog-
nize these as the
large, black -
and -white birds
that actually get
up on the water
and race across
it together. An
amazing sight
never to be for-
gotten.
We couldn't
pass up Salt
Lake City and
the wonders of
the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in all its
magnificence. Arches National Park in
southeast Utah kept us for days where
1,000 arches have been recorded and
new ones are formed every year.
By now the weather was warm enough
so we enjoyed New Mexico with its
rodeo and wonderful parks that state
offers. Going north, we traveled through
a little of Texas, Oklahoma, Colorado
and then into Nebraska. Hoping to see
buffalo (bison) in the prairies as we fol-
lowed much of the Lewis and Clark trail
across the country, we finally found a
herd with their young as we entered the
state of Minnesota. It's hard to imagine
them by the millions at one time in our
country.
We had also wanted to see some of
the migrating sandhill cranes when we
passed through Nebraska, but were too
late for them. So we hoped we might
catch up with them farther north. Luck
would have it that in a campground in
Wisconsin Barbara woke me one night
when she heard an unusual call. I lis-
tened and recognized it as the call of
the sandhill crane. In the morning I did
some calculating to figure out where
the calls had come from. Then I walked
about a mile through pines and scrub
until I came to a marsh. Quietly, ever so
quietly, I walked around the edge and
there in front of me was a crane, feed-
ing.
Photo by Barbara Stoutenburgh
ARCHES NATIONAL PARK —This was just one of the magnificent parks our country has to
offer those who have time to visit them.
Playing Hide and Seek
At first it didn't see me, but then it
stopped short and eyed me for a good
three to four minutes, neither of us mov-
ing. Then it slowly walked away. I fol-
lowed it with my binoculars until it went
out of sight. I waited for 10 to 15 min-
That must have been you, Midgette. Saw you filling
your plate at the Sunday brunch at Mill Creek Inn
in your new windsuit from
X10 MAME ST:
utes and then went to where I had last
seen it. Ever so quietly, I walked in a
half - crouched position as if stalking a
lion.
Then I heard the call. It seemed almost
on top of me so I stopped and squatted
down. Then I saw it again, standing al-
most four feet tall with its reddish cap. It
seemed to be searching for something.
Then I saw another one. Could it be they
were nesting? Again a long wait as I
watched through my binoculars. Then to
my greatest joy I saw a small, fluffy,
brown, long - legged chick come off a
clump of grass and follow its parents
through the marsh. I had found a nesting
pair of sandhill cranes! Something few
have seen. Something I never dreamed
I'd ever see.
I was so excited I cold hardly contain
myself. When the pair drifted off out of
sight I retraced my steps and rushed
back to the camper to tell Barbara. What
we had heard during the night, I'm sure,
was the parents telling the world their
new chick had arrived.
At the Horicon National Wildlife
Refuge in Wisconsin, the largest fresh-
water marsh in the country, we canoed
out to where blue herons were nesting. A
sight not seen here on Long Island. We
■
see herons here but not nesting pairs.
They were not nesting in trees but in
manmade nesting sites on telephone
poles, something like our osprey plat-
forms here on the East End. It surely was
handy to have a canoe along with us for
such excursions.
Homeward Bound
State after state rolled by, each with
its own wonders. Mammoth Cave in
Kentucky is jusk as the name implies
... mammoth. It's a sight to see and we
were told its tunnels total over 345
miles. Passing West Virginia we found
coal ruled the economy in that hilly,
beautiful country where there always
seemed to be a coal truck in sight. We
couldn't go through Pennsylvania
without stopping at the Amish country
with its big, tidy farms where we
watched a team of six work horses
discing a field.
The worst part of the trip was getting
through New York and the busy, crowd-
ed highway but once out on our island I
felt a new excitement flowing through
me. As we pulled into the cottage on the
bay where we'll spend the summer, an
osprey called from above. I think he was
welcoming us home. It's good to be
back.
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