After two nights in Redding, CA, we were rested from several long days of driving and were mentally prepared for another long day on the road, two more to be exact if we were to make a stop at Yellowstone National Park.Our Shingletown friends told us that no visit to their neck of the woods would be complete without seeing nearby Mt. Lassen National Park, whose questionable distinction is that of the least visited of all the national parks. But, considering snow and ice on the roads within the park prevented it from opening until July 4th this summer, one can understand the relatively short time frame in which the park can be visited. And, as it only added a few more miles to our trip we decided to take the highway tour of Mt. Lassen.
The scenery was wonderful, and we actually drove alongside large patches of ice, which we could almost reach out and touch. My fear of heights was intensified by the lack of guardrails throughout the park (we only saw one). There were many pullouts along the roadway that I utilized to let faster motorists pass me, and Barbara made photos at the more scenic of the pullouts. With respect to driving, this drive through Mt. Lassen National Park would be my most nerve-wracking adventure, thus far, and I was glad to exit the park for less treacherous conditions.
We stopped in Susanville, CA, and lunched at the Black Bear Diner, one of a small chain of regional diners. Afterwards, we traveled to Reno, NV and then headed across the northern area of Nevada to spend a night in Elko, NV, before continuing to Jackson, WY, which is set in a valley midst the Grand Teton Mountains, and not too far from Yellowstone.
We were tired by the time we reached our motel in Elko and didn’t want to hunt for a restaurant, so we chose to eat at a Pizza Barn adjacent to our motel. I don’t know how long the Pizza Barn has been in business, but it looked rather dated. This particular business was set up so one placed an order before being seated. Barbara and I made small talk with the child or grandchild of one of the workers, asking her if she where the state of Mississippi was and if she knew anything about Mississippi.
Afterwards, as we selected a table and were seating ourselves, a gentleman in a nearby booth, who had apparently overheard our conversation with the child, had a few questions for us. Well, pretty soon, I was explaining “The Ridge Rider News,” both the California and the Mississippi version.
Since we’d gotten into a full-blown conversation, it was suggested we dine together and continue our discussion. Mr. Sheaffer had flown to Boston to meet his daughter who wanted him to accompany her on a cross-country trip back to California. She had quit her corporate job to pursue other interest and was moving back home.
Barbara and I had a great time talking to the Sheaffers and learned the route they had taken from Boston to Elko was one that we would take toward Iowa before we headed south to Mississippi. They had spent the previous night at a lodge in Yellowstone.
“We got lucky and got a room in the park,” he stated. “My daughter wanted to see Old Faithful and it was getting dark at the time.”
They warned us that we would see a lot of road construction, and they were right.
Mr. Sheaffer and I were about the same age. His daughter expressed a desire to travel as she sorted out what she wanted to do with her life and indicated she would soon be going to Israel. I told her if she was looking for a mate, I had a son in Pontotoc, that I could fix her up with, and while I made the offer more tempting by throwing a house in the deal, she was non-committal.
By this time we had consumed our respective pizza, among the best we’d ever eaten, or so we agreed. But, it may have been the combination of good conversation and good food that made us think so. We said goodbye to our new-found friends and offered them a ride back to our motel, where they were also staying, but they chose to walk the 100-yard distance, instead.
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