A Map, a Camper and Me

A NJ woman’s journey 18,000 miles across America.

July 17, 2014

I've been to the Gates of Hell, Devil’s Tower, The Badlands, Deadwood and the Black Hills of South Dakota. I haven’t gotten kidnapped, mutilated, hijacked, robbed, sucked into quicksand, car jacked, scammed or contracted any strange diseases and I’m here to talk about it.

My introduction to North Dakota was Fargo. As I arrived I saw a big billboard that said, “Fargo, Home of The Misfits.” What kind of slogan is that, I thought? I realized later that the “Misfits” came from the entrepreneurial slogan — “Fargo, you are awesome! If you’re a nonconformist, builder, creator, artist or instigator, Fargo is the place for you.” Although it was not my favorite city, the people were friendly and the city seemed safe. I left Fargo after a sleepless night in a city campground that was basically open to anyone who wandered in — kind of like sleeping in Verona Park back home.

My next stop was Grand Forks, ND, which was amazing. I took a walk on the North Dakota side, strolled over a bridge and realized I was then in Minnesota. Kind of like Lambertville/New Hope — both just delightful towns.

I went into the Cabela’s store on the Minnesota side and their greeter (a gal even older than I) asked me if I needed any help. “May I buy a gun?” I replied. “Of course,” she said, and pointed over there. I explained that I was only kidding but she didn’t get the joke. It’s a different world out here.

I spent four days in Minot, ND with my pal Diane. She arrived with a fractured foot so we stayed in a delightful hotel — a much appreciated reprieve. We met tons of friendly people, one of whom offered us her parents’ backyard to camp. We kindly declined. We went to a Scandinavian exhibit, met a woman who shared with us the history of Minot and learned that the town was named after Henry Davis Minot, a great-great-great uncle of Diane’s. Minot was a feisty guy from Boston who had so many investors ready to invest in the new railroad they shamelessly named the town after him. Hence, Diane was revered. (Not really, but I was impressed.) We also went to the local soup kitchen to see how it ran and got some tips for our own community service at Christ Church. Quite similar in fact.

We asked people what they thought about oil drilling and fracking. Most were unconcerned. One old guy in a tavern in Velva, ND told us “they ain’t told us nothing bad so it’s OK with me.” The water table in ND is rising like crazy. Towns are being flooded out with just their roofs visible. Could this be from fracking? With jobs and money flowing into the state, no one wanted to know. I learned that North Dakota, although definitely a very red state, is one of the most socialist states in the country. It has restricted big agri-business from moving in and taking over family farms. The most distant relative a farm can be passed or sold to is a second cousin. And it has the only state-owned bank in the country. The state is absolutely thriving.

Back on my own, I stopped in Medora, ND and spent two nights in a campground attached to the Theodore Roosevelt National Park where I learned a lot about Teddy and his family. The town was very touristy with lots of shops and restaurants, all done in the Old West style, but the landscape everywhere has just been breathtaking.

I spent nearly two weeks in the Dakotas. Today I drove all day including about 80 miles on a gravel road through an Indian reservation called Pine Ridge. Pine Ridge is the eighth-largest reservation in the United States and the poorest. Its residents suffer severe health problems, high mortality rates, depression, alcoholism, drug abuse, malnutrition and diabetes. Unemployment on the reservation is about 85% and nearly half of the population lives below the federal poverty level. Many have no electricity, telephone, running water or sewer.

During this 80-mile drive, I only saw one person, a woman on an ATV. I was lost (again) and she told me that in another 10 miles I would come to a town and find Rte 79. Meeting her was a mini-highlight of my trip. She was about my age, well-worn, and interested in why the hell I was out there.

After explaining I had retired from work in New Jersey she told me she didn’t like New Jersey or Washington for that matter. We both got a good smile out of each other.

I found my way to the town and it consisted of a feed store and a food shack. The streets were still unpaved, but it was close to the highway.

Off I went to Custer, Crazy Horse, Keystone and Mt. Rushmore. All of these places are interesting but, like Medora, very touristy. Custer goes from a city of 2,000 in the winter to 20,000 in the summer, which gives you an idea of the traveling we Americans do.

So much time to think about stuff. All good except for the occasional anxiety that floods my stomach when I think I may not find my way — when I crest a hill and all I see are miles and miles of more dirt roads. Of course I know I won’t die but someone might grab me and sell me. But who would buy me? I’m old, cranky and I sure can’t cook! So honestly, I feel quite secure. Onward!

Oct. 18, 2014

I cannot believe my trip of nearly 5 months is over. I retired on May 30th, went off for two weeks touring the east coast, home for a week, then my real journey began. I want to attach a map showing my route although, when I look at it now, it doesn’t make perfect sense. I missed a lot the center of the country! Oops. But what I certainly didn’t understand beforehand is — this country is huge! I’ll keep Charley, my camper, and continue this journey focusing on smaller areas in shorter time spans.

I got my first moving violation 200 feet before the Texas border, in New Mexico. The cop was kind, polite and sort of cute. He was so different than the police at home. If you get stopped by a cop in NJ, they just glare at you and snarl. They don’t look you in the eye and are downright rude. At least this has been my past experience.

I’d like to tell you a lot about Texas but I know your attention span is limited so let me tell you just a little. Southwest Texas is strange but beautiful. I went to the McDonald Observatory in Ft. Davis with my high school friend Bill, where we listened to a discussion about the stars. It’s supposed to be the darkest place in the U.S. It was very interesting and incredibly cool.

Austin was wild. I was with my friend BG, who flew in from Florida to join me so I had someone to enjoy the “scene” with. Austin is a place of very young drunk people. Bill gave us a heads up as to where to go for the fun. The music was great, as expected, but the people were hysterical. BG felt like an old person invading their space (which we were) but nobody seemed to care. Young guys were telling us about their true loves and their jobs and young women told us about their aspirations for amazing futures. Obviously they saw us as mother figures. Grandmothers maybe.

Final note on Texas — the people are so friendly that I take back everything bad I’ve ever said about that state. They are wonderful, friendly and, dare I say, God- fearing people. I learned quickly from my sister-in-law, Noreen, you don’t swear in Texas. Seriously, you just don’t.

Every night, no matter where I camped, I could hear trains in the distance — which is a sound I love. It reminds me of being at Grandma Scanlan’s house when I was a little girl. Some nights it sounded like the trains drove right through the center of the campground, which was not quite so charming. The trains out west are everywhere with hundreds of cars attached. An overstatement maybe, but it sure seems like that when you are waiting for them to pass. There is a battle going on in the Dakotas because the oil and gas is filling up most of the train cars which, in the past, used to move fresh produce. The farmers are being told to build more silos which means their produce doesn’t go out fresh. This doesn’t seem fair to me.

I had a dreadful camping experience in Rusk, Texas the other night. The campground had terrible management and unkempt property. I came to find out that it was owned by the bank and, therefore, just a dump. That place and the city campground in Fargo were my two least favorites. I found a spider in one of my containers that looked like a tarantula. Turns out it was a wolf spider — just as scary but it won’t kill you. The next night I slept in a hotel. Speaking of which, I cut my hair (just a trim) while I was there and the next day I got a call from the manager saying they were going to charge me to have the rug cleaned because I had a dog with me. I swore up and down that there was no dog, that it was my hair, but they didn’t believe me. This may be a battle I cannot win.

Two tickets, two flat tires, a hit-and-run driver smashing in my back door, and me backing into a pole — these minor difficulties didn’t spoil my trip in the least. New brakes and four new tires did put a dent in my wallet but even that’s OK. On the friendliness clap-o-meter, I’m questioning if the northeast is, as many claim, less friendly than the rest of the county. Maybe, but plenty of drivers out west gave me the finger so I have to say they can be just as rude as we are. But honestly, I was blown away at how friendly people were everywhere I went. Of course, I was also on my best behavior.

Tidbits: Nearly every car in Texas is white; there are no vegetarians in Wyoming; if you believe all the billboards, everyone in the south is Christian; every town in NM, TX, AL, MS and TN has a donut shop; California is devastatingly dry; everyone west of PA has a gun (similar to people in NJ owning a lawn mower); I am now a coffee drinker; people in TX hate Obama; Kentucky is gorgeous; farms are abundant; and most everyone knows someone from NJ.

Most importantly, people all over the place were just like me. That sounds so trite but it seems all over this lovely country, we’re all the same.

I have to say again that the best part of this trip has been spending time with many friends and family members, old and new, young and old. I feel very fortunate having had this opportunity and I cannot thank you enough for welcoming me into your homes and sharing your time with me. I hope we all stay in touch.

I am home and happy to be. My adventure was all I had hoped for and I look forward to many more trips to come. Thanks for reading along!

After retiring from her job as a human relations manager in a small NJ reinsurance company last year, Mary Jarvis McGee spent five months in a camper traveling the United States. By herself. She covered 18,000 miles. These are excerpts from her journal.

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