Sanchius in Hoosierland

[sanchius]

Our historic neighborhood goes all out for the Fourth of July holiday.

During the week, we used the Vanagon to take the crack team of volunteers and bins of gear around to line the streets with flags, tree-poofs, and bunting. Unfortunately, Abs, the pic I took of Cupcake the guest husky "helping" us didn't come out.

We tend to name the significant homes around here, this one we call "The Wedding Cake."

That evening, we held a dinner party to catch up with old friends, welcome some interesting new folks to the neighborhood, and properly festoon a few of the nearby homes.

The weekend started out simple with a early-morning drive far out into the countryside to answer a marketplace ad to pick up a vastly underpriced 2-stage self-propelled snowblower "only used 3-times" so I don't kill my back again when we get another wet lake-effect snow storm next spring. The van accepted it and the nice pressure washer that the widow threw into the deal without a problem.

Since we were afield and it was an delightfully cool and low-humidity summer morning, we went exploring deeper into the countryside. First following little backroad signs to "Antiques and More", where we found some rare books and a cute antique brass quail-handled water spigot for the bird bath before just sitting and chatting with the nice owners for awhile.

Then, we picked up some sandwiches and enjoyed a relaxing dock-side lunch alongside the Wabash and Erie Canal park...

...before driving back to town, past grand old houses on the ridgeline overlooking a sea of corn and soybeans growing in the rich river floodplain and the fairweather cumulus humilis marching off to the horizon.

We stopped at a few other parks and galleries along the way.

This sign post pretty much summed up the drive.

We paused to watch the Wabash River flow by for a bit before heading back home, where I immediately fired up the new pressure washer to blast that ugly organic goo off the poptop.

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[sanchius]

The heat and humidity has kept us home for the past couple weeks, but it was a nice dry weekend, so it was time for a trip. With her mom now all healed, our guest Husky has returned home, so it was just Mrs S and I

In Chicago earlier this year.

First, since the Westy has been sitting unused for a couple weeks, I took some time to wash the windows, top off all the tires, check fluid levels and look for any leaks. All good...

We putted south on the curvy Wabash River road, taking in the fields of near-ripe corn, lots of cows and goats, the black vultures soaring along the ridge line, stopping once to make sure a big box turtle made it safely across the road. At Attica, we cruised around to see the historic victorian homes there, then headed out of town and at the end of a gravel road, we parked in the shade at Portland Arch nature preserve.

It was a short walk down the Bear Creek bed to the Arch, where the creek undercut the 230million year old Mansfield Sandstone. The site itself was beautiful, calm, filled with birds, wildflowers and hanging stone terraces overhead, with the dramatic sandstone layers framing the walk-through arch.

Our other destination, the potholes in Fall Creek Gorge was closed, so we declared victory and headed home. By now, the temps had climbed, so a stop at Teays River Brewing for some nachos and yummy cold craft beers, while reading each other interesting stories from off our phones and petting all the dogs on the patio, was in order to wrap up the trip.

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[dodger tom]

coupla nice bucolic drives the past coupla months.

and, beer, too!

thanks, sanchius.
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1978 Champaign Edition 2 Westfalia
Would never find the time to keep up another classic air-cooled.

[sanchius]

The van earned its keep running the lawn chairs and snacks to the Friday night bluegrass-on-the-lawn fundraiser at the art museum down the hill.

A relaxing evening of original music featuring good string work with lots of intricate mandolin transitions, a continuous airshow from the squadron of 30-40 huge black vultures circling just overhead on the updrafts formed by the prefrontal winds hitting the escarpment behind us, and the mounting drama of whether the line of severe thunderstorms and lightning moving NE between us and Champaign all evening would sag far enough south to hit us before the show finished.

The front stayed north, leaving us with a light show, some distant rumbles, and nice cool breezes for the concert. As we were packing out, an older woman stopped us to longingly recount the great adventures she had in her van "just like this one" in the past. She so sincere and heartwarming and we could all tell that she really missed the freedom of her van.
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[jimf909]

Happy Labor Day weekend! It's a beautiful one here in Idaho.
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- Jim

[sanchius]

[sanchius]

Awakened from its winter sleep, The Westy was called into service yesterday to move an electronic organ from St. Mary's Cathedral to the smaller, but acoustically superior, St. Boniface Church for Mrs S's and the town's Master Chorale performance of one of the greatest hits of 1742, Handel's Messiah.

Once the organ was in place. the performers launched into their hour of pre-concert warm-up and final fine tunings. This was a perfect opportunity for me to duck out to the van, deploy the curtains & Z-bed, fluff the pillows and blankets, set an alarm for 8 minutes before the start time, and stretch out in back for a luxurious and restorative disco-nap that would see me through the long performance without any yawning or nodding off.

The 2.5 hour oratorio was a triumph, the soloists magnificent, and everyone had fun.

Afterwards during breakdown, I approached a pod of fresh-faced and fit young lads who had come en masse from a preparatory school the next state over for the concert and asked the group, "Excuse me, do any of you lift?" One particularly stout lad, who seemed to have have been waiting for someone to ask him that very question his entire life, immediately raised his hand, stepped forward authoritatively, and said, "Yes, I do." "That's so awesome!", I responded, "Come give me a hand moving this organ..."

(link to their practice https://www.facebook.com/share/v/15zeq43aMZ/ )
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[Red Ryder]

Love to read your adventures! The photos and their back story are amusing, delightful, and descriptive. Yours and Mrs. S volunteer involvement in your community is commendable!
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“Most everyone’s mad here. You may have noticed I am not quite all there myself.” — Cheshire Cat, Adventures of Alice in Wonderland

“Scarlett” — 1990 Vanagon Carat Wolfsburg Edition (Tornado Red)
“Nigel” — 1999 Jaguar XK8 convertible (Alpine Green Metallic)

[dodger tom]

great to see the golden chariot (and you) out and about again. looking forward to more excursions…..and naps.
_________________
1978 Champaign Edition 2 Westfalia
Would never find the time to keep up another classic air-cooled.

[coqcitywesty]

Thx for posting - I always look forward to your updates and photos. Hoping all remains well.
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1991 Westfalia EJ251, 1972 Volvo 1800 ES

[Abscate]

Thanks for the guest Husky photo

I’m grieving the loss of daughters 6 year old social mix, sudden AV heart problems. She was deeply bonded to all of US, and my poor kid has to face an empty apartment in NYC alone this week.
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[sanchius]

It was Percheron day last Saturday out at the Prophetstown Historic 1920's Farm just north of town. We couldn't miss that.

We met up with some long-time family friends who had prepared a picnic lunch and we all headed to the farm. Our gifted photographer friend, Rena, brought along her camera to take the good pictures that appear in this post.

Inside the barn, John, the big 18-hand Percheron, was simply magnificent.

He was also very friendly; sniffing and tasting Mrs S's hand.

Cash, the smaller 17-hand, Percheron, was just as calm, relaxed, and friendly as John. Their owner told us about their easyging and gentle nature and the tasks that they were typically used for on a 1920's farm.

Outside, we got another history lesson on how oxen were the tractors at the turn of the century, moving slow and steady to get the job done.

The real stars, though, were Jack and Jill, the beautiful Percheron-crossed mule team who patiently pulled the farm wagon to give visitors a ride around the property. According to John & Cash's keeper, the mules did just about everything better and with less fuss than the horses, except reproduce. We took a meander around the farm property in the mule-drawn farm wagon and really enjoyed the quiet and laid back pace of life at that speed.

But lurking in a side building was the stinky and noisy contraption that would wipe out this quiet, slow-paced, life within just a few short years.

After seeing the horses, mules, oxen, pigs, chickens, ducks, and bees, we journeyed further into the state park to visit some of the memorial sites, hiked down to the river to discover an hidden beaver lodge, then found a nice sunny picnic table to enjoy our lunch and talk. It was a wonderfully relaxed day.

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[sanchius]

Mrs S and I flew out to Telluride for the big blue grass festival. The real agenda was to spend a week with our daughter, son-in-law, and, of course, our wonderful grandson. And maybe listen to a little music along the way. Our son-in-law's family has been going to the TBGF for many decades, and just like the white-water river trip down the San Juan river that they took us on in 2020, they had this all dialed in and told us, "Just show up, we've got everything taken care of." Cool, so it was a week of glamping and fun, surrounded by the beautiful mountains.

Driving into Telluride over Lizard Head Pass, the scenery was amazing!

Although our Westy stayed at home, I expected to see lots of Vanagon's at this festival, so the scan was on. The first Westy to show up was a well-traveled SyncroWesty in the merch paddock. Although it was there all week, I never managed to connect with them.

The Saturday to Wednesday prefestival was an event itself. The campground opened up five days before the festival and the landrush for great spots went to those who showed up early and moved fast. We were barracked in a great spot with Camp Happy (a fun crowd of southwest archeologists and anthropologists neighbors, with a hard-partying preacherlady and some medical types thrown in to round out the group) and Camp Flamingo (families with lots of delightfully well behaved kids).

Every day of prefest was an event. We rolled in Caterday afternoon and had our tent set up just in time for the Creole Crawfish Boil, where you toss a couple bucks into the kitty and dive in to the pile of mudbugs to pinch tail and suck head. Sunday was the Goddess Walk where the goddesses dressed up in their finest and paraded en-masse though the camps, collecting gifts, bribes, and libations along the way. Bloody Marys and Mimosas started promptly 10am Monday morning, Tuesday was the TaterTotstravaganza and Waffle Wednesday finished it out.

A resort town, Telluride was packed with things to do, gondola rides, mountain hikes to waterfalls, with lots of restaurants and fun stores, and we spent hours with the kids cooling off in the hot afternoons at the nice public pool next to the festival grounds. There was so much random talent there that impromptu blue grass bands would form spontaneously and there was a constant background of gentle acoustical music in the campgrounds every evening, going late into the night.

The soft launch to the TBGF was Wednesday evening, with a small town "Music on the Mesa" festival in nearby Norwood. At the San Miguel Country fairgrounds, we contributed to the local economy by getting dinner at the the food booths and buying up t-shirts from the crafts stands, then took in the very energetic Pixie and the Partygrass Boys, who had everyone up and dancing.

I strolled around the camps trying to to find more Westys, but they proved to be very elusive. A assuan brown round-eyed Westy flashed by one evening, and a white syncrowesty also cruised by in town, going too fast to grab a picture. Fortunately, I got to see this nice Subie-powered 2WD beauty every day and talked with the owners towards the end of the week

Thurs the BGF kicked off in earnest, with 14 hours of full-frontal professional bluegrass. Mrs S in the foreground, the low-backed chair, then high-backed chair, then shade structure sections shown mid-picture and Bridal Veil falls in the background.

As with Saturdays campground land-rush, every morning the best spots to watch the festival shows were secured via a land-rush. The key to the land-rush was to draw low numbers in the land-rush lottery the previous day, which put your best runners near the front of the land-rush release line. Because we had so many folks between Camp Happy and Camp Flamingo, we would pool our numbers and invariably end up with a couple great starting spots for the tarp land-rush.

Each morning around 10am, with a bevy of banjos and mandolins up on stage plucking out the start of the William Tell overture, the hundreds of runners were released into the field, metered by lottery number, running full-out with tarps in hand, to claim the best view spots. Our camp's fast-runners, often wearing tall pink flamingo hats so we could track them, would sprint out to claim our spots by throwing down a couple 10x10 tarps. We had two priorities, two spots right in front of the stage in the low-backed-chair-only area and another couple tarps back in the shade structure area.

We would watch the land-rush from the sidelines. Our grandson's favorite part was when the land-rusher dressed in an inflatable T-Rex suit would come out and dance in front of us spectators. Then, someone dressed as a piece of bacon would run by and the startled T-rex would take up the chase. Every day we cheered on Bacon, and once or twice Bacon almost got away, but T-rex always ended up catching and devouring Bacon right in front of us, as the crowd groaned in disappointment.

Did I mention the scenery was simply spectacular?

Back at the venue, we mainly stayed in the shade structure area and out of the intense high-altitude sun. This is what it's like when you are with an organized group with fast runners; out of the sun, but a great view of the stage, close, but not too close, and sharing our shade with anyone who asked.

It was an awesome week with family and friends, great music, and day after day a heartbeat of beautiful Colorado weather.

The only disappointment was that, at the end of it all, there seemed to be 50 newer SprinterTransitRam camper vans for every Westy I saw, like this wall of white parked outside Camp Flamingo. Perhaps it is to be expected, but it is clear that Westies seem to be getting rarer and rarer at events like this as the years go on.
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[67rustavenger]

Thanks for posting the TBGF story.

Great pics and fantastic narration regarding your time there.
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I have learned over the years.
Cheap parts are gonna disappoint you.
Buy Once, Cry Once!

There's never enough time to do it right the first time. But there's always enough time to do it thrice.
GFY's Xevin and VW_Jimbo!
2003 Astrovan? GFYS again, Xevin!

[shadetreemech]

Thanks for the write-up and the rundown.

Dan
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'01 Volvo V70 T5
'88 Westy - "MZDRTHY"

[sanchius]

Back home in Indiana, Mrs S and I enjoyed a spirited cool morning drive through the fresh country air in our red Vanagon, joining some friends and their parents for the annual Fourth of July antiques auction in the nearby farm town of Rossville, where the gentlemen who we always try to buy from at the Lafayette Farmer's Market have their farm.

Deep in the heart of German Baptist country, spending some time with the Old Brethren would provide a glimpse into a simpler time gone by.

And indeed it was. Inside the auction house, they got right down to business, the auctioneer launched into his mesmerizing chant, and they rapidly moved though a couple dozen lots of wooden chests, cast iron, firearms, quilts, hand-cranked coffee grinders and the like, in short order.

After an hour or so, my enthusiasm began to wane. Seeing nothing of interest for me in the antiques auction, my butt going numb from the folding chairs, and unwilling sit through watching another person pay $20 for an old wooden bucket, it was time for me to punch out of there. I left Mrs S to soldier on there with our friends and their parents, while I blasted off in the Jag to made better use of the day.

My first stop was just a mile away at Rossville's famed Flour Mill Bakery for a couple of their most amazing raspberry jelly-filled bismark donuts. Tasty, light, and fluffy, yet still substantial enough for me not to feel like I had just wasted my money buying some expensive air, these have to be the very BEST donuts I have ever had in my life.

Six hours later, I got the call to return with the van; the auction was over and there were treasures to bring home! A heavy chest of drawers, a marble top credenza, and a 300lb antique oaken ice box. I downed two preparatory ibuprofen and hit the road. I haven't been driving the van much lately, so I was listening closely for any issues as I drove.

Once back at the auction house, the ice box was every bit as heavy as advertised, but it loaded into the van just fine with the aid of a couple of stout brethren. But the van seemed to be driving a bit sluggishly.

After the ice box was loaded, we were invited to a hearty farm dinner at our friends' parents' place just outside of Rossville. So we putted over there from the auction house to relax in the shade and hear tales of the old days over lemonade, delicious ribs, fresh corn, a spread of vegetables, then cherry pie and fruit for dessert. Along the way we learned how it was once a renown cattle ranch whose abundant fertilizer also made it a very productive vegetable farm famous for its tasty tomatoes. We learned how the family reclaimed the farm, originally homesteaded by John Clark of Lewis and Clark fame, after a series of unfortunate events briefly took it outside their family. We got to see the massive 200-year old black walnut beams under the old log cabin portion of the house and the numerous train sets in the garage. It was unexpected, fun, fascinating, and a great evening of conversation.

Driving back into town as the sun began to set, the van again felt a little slow. Still, we got heavy ice box unloaded at our friends and the van back home just before it got dark.

The next morning, we encountered trouble. As we drove out to pick up the other two furniture pieces, the front end began to make a horrible grinding sound with heavy & increasing resistance to movement. When I pulled over the check it out, the PX front alloy rim was much hotter to the touch than the other three. Either I was burning up a front wheel bearing or something was going on with the brakes. I parked the van at a nearby hospital and, since we only had a narrow pick-up window at the auction house, we used our friend's Q7 to retrieve the other two pieces.

Later that day, I drove out to the van with a floor jack and more tools to see whether I could fix it there or if it would need to be flat-bedded home. I pulled the PX front wheel and saw evidence of a stuck brake piston: extreme wear on the outer edge of the brake rotor and the wheel & disk locked firmly in place. The brake pad wouldn't push back, so I cracked the brake line at the closest joint to release some fluid, at which point the rotor freed up and the hub turned easily with no grinding noise nor any wiggle that might indicate a toasted front wheel bearing.

Cool, I'd much rather rebuild the brake pistons and renew the brake rotors & pads than replace a ruined front wheel spindle. I retightened the brake line, double checked that the wheel still spun freely, and drove it slowly back home without ever touching the brake pedal. Safely back in the driveway, I can now debug and fix it at my leisure, with all my tools right at hand.

The adventure continues...
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