jumpingfish

From the margins of the pond in back, there comes this.

Ingenuity, NASA’s helicopter on Mars is flying again after a recent emergency landing.

In late July during flight #53, the LAND_NOW program in Ingenuity’s avionics directed the vehicle to land due to navigation discrepancies. It immediately landed. The latest news is that the helicopter seems to be ok with normal missions coming soon. (Ok, “more rigorous” missions.)

Trudy and I can bear witness to the utility of such software based on our recent travels.

As I wrote previously, on a fine Sunday morning in June as we were pulling our teardrop northward, our Volvo displayed a Pull over now diagnostic on the dashboard due to tire pressure discrepancies. We immediately pulled over. As a result, we and the car were ok with a several hour delay the only major consequence. (Ok, that and a new set of tires.)

It’s officially an interplanetary fact: Good software is good software.

Here is a snippet from the fourth day of my drive from Michigan to Austin.

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You get a good view of sunrise from campsite #2 at Aux Arc Park. The summer sun comes up from behind the hills on the far side of the river, its peach/pink glow reflected on the still Arkansas River.

After a quick breakfast and the usual closing up of the trailer, as the sun climbed into the summer sky, I was ready for an on-time 8:00am departure.

Sending these pictures to the fair and industrious Trudy was a bit … unfair. You see, there I was advertising a rosy sunrise beside calm waters while she was up before the Austin dawn taking Izzy for a walk in the dark before the scorching heat of day. 

But Trudy couldn’t hear the horn and clang and rumble of the Union Pacific freight trains on the tracks that run along River Street. Nor could she hear the whir of turbo machinery coming from the nearby Army Corps of Engineers powerhouse. Nor do the pictures show the all-night klieg lights at the Butterball plant on the other side of the river. 

Still, we agreed we’ll go to Aux Arc Park together some time.

Here is a snippet from the second day of my drive from Michigan to Austin. 

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Today’s drive was mostly in Illinois but ended in eastern Missouri’s Mark Twain National Forest. Wayne and Evelyn were the camp hosts at the Silver Mines Recreation Area and were sitting around a campfire when I arrived in the early evening. Here are three stories about them. 

1. Being Brave

Life as a camp host in the middle of wilderness must be … an adventure. Wayne and Evelyn talked about dealing with freeloaders camping without paying, about blaring music, about people dragging fallen tree trunks out of the forest to burn, about bonfires with flames leaping into the air and bags of household trash thrown on top. The two of them are clearly patient. And very brave. 

“We’ve had to call the county sheriff three times so far this year,” the said. 

I was puzzled. “How do you call? I have no cell signal.”

“They got us a land line!” they said, pointing to the shed.

Good thing.

2. Cowboy Coffee

Getting on the road by 8:00am was key to success on this trip. Before I left Silver Mines, I came over to say goodbye to Wayne and Evelyn who were already sitting beside their fire.

“Wow,” I said, pointing at a coffee pot sitting on the grate over their fire pit. “That is huge!” The old-fashioned metal pot must have held two gallons.

The two of them like their coffee cowboy-style. They took turns explaining their process — how they grind beans every morning, boil the coffee, and then use cold water to get the grounds to settle.

“It’s the smoothest coffee you’ve ever tasted,” Evelyn said, tapping her cup and smiling.

3. Photography in Palestine

“If you drive thru Palestine on your way home, stop in at the Gallery at the Redlands,” Wayne said. “I have some photographs on display there.” (I later found out that he also sells them online.) 

I was originally going to drive that way, but my plans changed. But when I got home, I called the gallery and left a message. A few minutes later, David called me back. I explained how I had been camping in Missouri.

“Do you know Wayne?” I asked.

“Yes!” David said. “He and I went to school together from second grade thru high school.” 

“And what about Evelyn?” 

“Oh yes,” he said with a chuckle. “She and I knew each other in fourth grade. Can I tell them I spoke to you?”

“Of course,” I said. “But they might remember me as Charlie.” 

The “Charlie thing” is another story, but I promised to stop at three. 

1. Going Home

After Sandy returned to Ohio. After Lexi came and went. After Colin returned to the political grind. After Betty disappeared in her flash of purple. After Burt and Jenny lashed the kayaks and stashed the dogs. After Jasper’s serenades were done and his kitchen closed. After VJ and Jenny Bea and Julia and Katherine returned south for a big school year. After Ben and Vicki had returned once more to their patients in Chicagoland.

After all the cars were gone. After the tents were stowed and the trailers locked. After the waterfront was secured and the cottage windows shut.  After all that, I too turned at last to home afar.

Down the two-rut drive thru the forest right onto Morgan Mills Road and again onto Macclain. Then Lincoln Lake Road. And then west on M-57 and eventually south on US-131. Home lay somewhere far out there.

2. US-131

This summer, I drove the full length of US-131. It’s an odd statement, isn’t it, that one might drive the full length of a US highway? Yet from its northernmost terminus in Petoskey to its southern end just beyond the Indiana state line, I drove the whole thing, the second half of which I covered on this return home.

“Wait,” you say. “The highway stops at the state line? It ends? The US highway runs only thru Michigan?”

Yes, well except for a valiant incursion into Elkhart County in northern Indiana where it extends to the Indiana Tollroad, US-131 ceases to be. The wide, controlled access highway becomes instead two-lane state Indiana 13. It seems that over many decades, Indiana has consistently declined to extend it further. And so, US-131 just stops.

I have a theory for why this is. It is based only on anecdotal evidence consisting of the joy of a narrow, two-lane road under blue sky amid the fields of corn and soy beans and well-kept farmsteads always with flowers out front in full bloom and laundry hanging in the breeze and slow-trotting horses pulling narrow-wheeled buggies. You see, Elkhart County is Amish country.

There is evidently no need for great highways with multiple swift-moving lanes. Here things move at a saner pace. And for that, there is no need for US-131.

At least that’s my theory. Because I was there.