Vancation Adventures, Part I: Taking Vanna Grey Where They Spell Her Name Correctly

Posted on June 7, 2024 by gretchenwing

Canada, that is—where the colour grey is spelt the English way. Especially in British Columbia.

Vanna and I both felt most at home–and so did Liza, my bike, who got to enjoy this view.

In the week following Memorial Day, The Mate and I had a nice free chunk of days between various commitments and appointments. Perfect timing to introduce Vanna to our favorite portion of North America…starting with a quick visit to the auto glass shop to fix her poor rear window.

I love when The Mate mows the lawn…but this time the mower threw out a chunk of gravel. Owie.

Heading for the eastern portion of the province, we crossed Washington’s Cascades and spent our first night in Twisp, right next to the Methow River.

Thanks to the window glass, it was late afternoon when we arrived, but also so windy we were just as happy to skip the bike ride we’d normally look forward to there.

Next morning, the Methow got its turn in the sun’s spotlight.

Crossing the border into Osoyoos, the gazillion not-yet-open fruit stands made us regret being there so early in the season. On the other hand, given the fires of recent summers, we felt just as happy to experience lush greenery and cooler temps around Penticton, a region we’d had to skip last fall due to…see the opening words of this sentence.

Our campsite above Lake Skaha used to be an apricot orchard, and the poor ol’ trees were still trying to leaf out.

We were happy to finally poke around Penticton, given its reputation as a bike-trail nexus.

They even have special traffic lights for bikes!!

The Kettle Valley River Trail goes right around Okanagan Lake, through town, and up the other shore…

…with fun add-ons like this trestle, traveling through vineyards…

…and this raven, guarding its throne:

Oh, and speaking of guarding: I also met this guy along the path:

when you’re rich enough to own your own house-sized T-Rex

Can I just say, Okanagan Lake is RIDICULOUS? 84 miles long (135 km), 2.5 – 3.1 miles wide (4-5 km)…it just goes and goes and goes. [thanks, Wikipedia]

Who wouldn’t want to sit and look? Pairs of red Adirondack chairs are kind of a Canadian thing. Haven’t looked that one up yet.

Midway up this endless, snaky lake is the town–city?–of Kelowna. It was very close to Ground Zero in last year’s fire, so we were glad to see it seemed to have survived…but we found it too big and trafficky for the vibe we were in. After riding a short piece of rail-trail, we got out of town. (Might go back in a non-Vanna-sized car someday; tons more trail there.)

[Not pictured: Kelowna traffic jam. But also not pictured, to be fair, the 3-foot long gopher snake we met on the bike path.]

One ridge over from Okanagan, though, is a lake we fell in love with last fall: Kalamalka. Also ringed by a bike path…but right along the shore, zero roads involved.

Tiny in comparison to the endless Okanagan, Kalamalka is twice as deep (over 400 feet in places) and famously color-changing (colour-changing) thanks to molecules from limestone deposits which are temperature-sensitive. I learned all this from a kiosk I had ridden past last year…but I was still more fascinated by the scenery along the ride.

Like this mama grebe and her grebelings. Greeblings? Greebettes? So CUTE.

The water’s so clear I even found myself taking pictures of fish.

But, just as last year, I found myself focused on the parkland across the water, which includes no campgrounds–day use only.

Instead, we spent the night in Dutch’s Campground, a funky old place at the head of the lake. Not a park–but for campering, just our speed.

Next morning broke drizzly but warm, and I was thrilled to finally experience the land across the lake I’d been staring at: Kalamalka Lake Provincial Park.

On the promontory, looking right back at the place from which I’d taken its picture the day before

SO satisfying to finally get in there and hike all through its uppy-downy trails.

From Kalamalka P.P. we turned right and headed straight east, reversing our route from last fall. Truth be told, any road driven in Vanna vs. our Toyota feels like a completely different road. (As in, “Who put all these curves and steep downgrades in here?!”)

The steepest downgrade–12 percent!–took us to the ferry across the Columbia. Did this last year, but it still weirds me out, ferrying over a river.

But we also stopped in places we skipped past last year. Like the town of Nakusp (na-CUSP).

Nakusp’s waterfront, along Arrow Lake (aka the Columbia, dammed up). To be fair, everything’s gorgeous in azalea season, right?

Travel Tip: wherever you go in Canada, look for the Information Centres. Even the smallest towns have them, and we’ve always found them to be staffed by the FRIENDLIEST, most helpful folks. Which might be redundant when describing Canadians.

Nakusp Info Centre–look for the yellow “i” on blue background.

At the RV campground in Nakusp, it wasn’t only the people who were friendly.

These gals were ready to hop right into Vanna!

[not pictured: Gretchen cleaning the floormats next morning from what we’d tracked in. Turns out camping around free-range chickens isn’t the best idea.]

Now in the Slocan River Valley, where we’d spent two nights last year, we treated ourselves to an easy walk along the rail-trail, digging the peace.

At the end of this day, we decided to treat ourselves to a night in a hotel, with restaurant food and everything. But I’ll catch up about that in my next installment, OK? Right now I’m going to leave you with these peaceful flowers (…and extra credit if you can name them for me, because Google apparently can’t).

Dipping My Toes Back In…To an Old Habit

Posted on May 26, 2024 by gretchenwing

The creeks in the Hoh rainforest, on Washington’s Olympic Peninsula, are so clear you can barely see them.

Looks like you could stroll right across it, right?

On a recent, brief “campering” trip–getting Vanna Grey used to the idea of short, regional outings instead of 8,000-mile, cross-country odysses–this thought occurred to me: I miss sharing the images of travel, and the thoughts they inspire. I miss the similes, I miss saying “those rainforest creeks are as invisible but as profound as my love of sharing.” I miss blogging!

“It misses you too,” I imagine the Hoh River murmuring.

Two years ago, I embarked on a Master’s program in LA, earning a degree in Creative Writing. As I wrote then, the degree itself wasn’t important; the WORK was. And in order to give myself time and space for that work, I backed off blogging. Backed WAY off. I haven’t counted, but I think I’ve only posted a handful of times in the past two years, mostly just when traveling.

Humptulips River says, “Yep, that seems accurate. Low flow.”

But I’m almost done. Not with my novel; that’ll be easily another year. But done with the program, the requirements, the deadlines. The work is all self-paced now (and a lot cheaper.)

Yep, those requirements are going to disappear…like this magical beach creek!

Which means I’m back, as a blogger. And I’m psyched about that. I get to share all the brilliant diversity of the Pacific Northwest, from tidepools…

to more tidepools:

From the smaller forest inhabitants…

Like these trillium, which start out white but turn purple as they age. Who doesn’t want to do that?!

…to its bigger ones…

Like this guy, who confirmed my family’s unofficial motto, “If you get up early, you might see a moose!” (Or elk, in this case. No one but him & us on the trail that morning.)

…to the biggest of all:

I can’t wait–though, actually, I WILL wait, because our next trip is coming up soon. And then my graduation, which–yes, I will write about.

And then, you know what else I might share? Good old home life, which recently issued a giant “Ahem!” That same weekend we were campering, deep in the sky-obscuring forest? The skies of Lopez were doing THIS:

Lopez Island aurora borealis. Image courtesy of Shari Lane

Sometimes, there really is no place like home. But here, there, or anywhere, I’m looking forward to sharing it with y’all again. See you soon.

Road Trip XII, Days 35-42: Bringin’ it Home

Posted on March 28, 2024 by gretchenwing

Before spending the penultimate night of my 6-week circuit of this immense nation of ours in Seattle, I encountered this show-stopping rainbow over Lake Washington.

Who knew the I-90 bridge could look so magical?

I also encountered a woman taking the same photo. We smiled at each other, and she said, “You know, you really remind me of my sister in Michigan.”

My response: “This is going to sound funny, but I just arrived here…with MY sister…from Michigan.” We both smiled and shook our heads. Whoa.

That’s how this final week of Road Trip XII has gone–the Seester Week. (See previous post for explanation.) Full of kismet, full of symmetry. For example, our 7 nights together went like this: Stay with friend; camp; camp; motel; camp; camp; stay with friend.

But let me break it down a little. We left “Michigan in the rear view” a week ago, with one final walk in a park with these amazing black squirrels who refused to hold still for their photo.

I really need to get a zoom lens for my phone.

Night #1 we spent with a friend of mine from college, in Evanston, IL (pretty much Chicago). He & his family showed us wonderful hospitality, complete with chicken pie from a local bakery.

Yes, I know Hoosiers are from Indiana, not Illinois. Still a great pun.

It snowed a little that night, but Vanna shrugged it off.

Note the open compartment near the rear: one bad curb and the locker door was hanging by a hinge. But that happened before Illinois.

We headed out into the Iowa landscape. Iowa does NOT deserve its reputation for flatness. I found its curves especially beautiful in snow.

We hoped to camp at this park outside of Des Moines, but the campground wasn’t yet open. We settled for a walk…of which the most memorable part was the MUD.

Night #2: the campground we settled into didn’t merit a photo. At least the snow melted!

Next day, we hit the jackpot with a lovely park outside of Lincoln, Nebraska.

During our walk, snow fell, turning everything miraculous.

But the biggest miracle of the day came later, approaching the center of the state (along I-80): we met the migrating Sandhill Cranes.

This is only a TEENY FRACTION of all we saw–so hard to capture as we whizzed by! But imagine each bird standing 4 feet tall. That’s what you’re looking at here. I tried capturing them in flight…

Again, may I remind you: each of those specks is a 4-foot-tall bird!

Night #3, we bedded Vanna down at a nearly-deserted campground by the North Platte River…

“What does she mean, she bedded ME down? I’m the one with the bed!”

Before darkness fell, though, I spent most of my time nervously pacing by the river as I listened to the Tarheels successfully grit their way back into the Sweet 16.

Does this mean I have to come back to the North Platte for every game now?

On into Wyoming! We made a walk-stop at Laramie…

Cactus? Yep–we’re in the WEST now, baby!

…but the weather was becoming worrisome.

Knowing we might well have to delay our start next morning for snow & ice, we opted to spend Night #4 in a motel in Rock Springs.

“Sure, and just leave us out here to freeze our seats off!”

But Wyoming was good to us. Snow & ice, yes–but nothing that didn’t melt away by the time we got to the steep parts of the highway. So we were relaxed enough to enjoy gorgeous Bear River State Park, just before crossing into Utah.

The park has its own wee herd of bison, including some albinos.

They look so cuddly! Except for the horns. And, y’know, the thousand-pound bodies.

We hated to leave that park. But most of the trail was snowed over, and Seester didn’t bring boots.

So we just watched the magpies a bit, and went on our way.

‘Bye, Wyoming–ya done right by us.

Not saying I want to LIVE there…but it is beautiful.

Along our route, Utah plays the tiniest part:

Taken from the car. Next time for you, Wasatch Range! We’re kind of done with snow for now, thanks.

Night #5: Twin Falls, Idaho. Not pictured: the actual falls. It was terribly windy & late when we arrived, so we just glimpsed the Snake River Canyon in passing and called it good.

But the moon was pretty wowza that night, rising over the campground.

Next day we stopped for our walk in Boise, along the Boise River. I’m used to riding a bike there, so it was nice to go slow and appreciate the greenbelt.

Crossing into Oregon, I celebrated: finally, back on Pacific Time!

Night #6, our campground view, in Pendleton, OR, looked much the same…

…with the additional reminder that SOMEbody’s still getting snowed on!

The last full day of driving, through Oregon and back into my dear Washington, I took zero pictures, mostly because it was RAINING the whole time. These song lyrics kept running through my head:

“I’m going back to the land of wet/ No winter wonderland regret/ They don’t sell postcards of the rain/ But what you see is what you get.”

(Not pictured: rain. But check out that rainbow at the top of the page!)

That symmetry I mentioned? Night #7 we spent with an old friend of my Seester’s, just as #1 was with an old friend of mine. A lovely palindrome of evenings: friend-van-van-motel-van-van-friend. And to top it all off, while I was gone, lo these many weeks…spring arrived!

I am feeling so FULL of gratitude for this almost-safely-concluded trip. It was so good to travel with my Sees! And now? I get a couple more days before she flies back to Michigan. I get to reunite with The Mate on Lopez Island, and we get to cheer the Tarheels as they try to move on in the tournament.

And Vanna gets some well-earned rest. Because, you know what? I think we’re going to stay home for a bit now. I may check in later about What I Learned On My First Van-cation. But for now…thanks for riding along with us!

Road Trip XII, Days 31-34: Change in the Weather, Change in Us

Posted on March 21, 2024 by gretchenwing

It was still spring when we left North Carolina.

But by the time we’d crossed the northern border into Virginia, our plans were already changing. Our lovely recreational plans: stop at West Virginia’s New River Gorge State Park, camp there, then on the next day to the beautiful Hocking Hills of southern Ohio.

We only did one of those things.

It’s not that Vanna can’t keep us warm in sub-freezing temperatures, which is where the mercury was headed by the time we got to WV. It’s just that the campsites on offer there didn’t involve electricity, and we didn’t want to be running our generator to stay warm. Too high of a learning curve there for me & The Mate.

Knowing this would be our last with eastern mountains for another year, I made the most of their easternness, like my favorite: rhododendron thickets!

If there’s a better word for this than “thicket,” I’d like to hear it.

The woods seemed to know as well as we did that winter wasn’t quite ready to release its grip.

Faced with blowing snow as we pressed northeast, we opted to spend the night in a motel. Gretchen was SAD…until she discovered this motel offered FREE SOUP and a COOKIE.

[not pictured: soup, nor cookie. But you can imagine: it was creamy chicken with big, fat noodles. Not quite enough to make up for not camping…but close.]

Next day dawned colder, with wind gusts closing in on 30 mph. Not a day for recreatin’. These through-the-window pictures are all I got of Ohio, for now.

Near this farm, an Amish horse-and-buggy trotted past, but I wasn’t swift enough to capture them.

The wind was HORRIBLE. The Mate & I agreed it was time to get in touch with my Seester in Ann Arbor and ask if we could arrive a day early. She said sure, so we arrived that afternoon.

[not pictured: Seester]

Seester moved her car so Vanna could take her spot.. She BARELY fit. Who’s a big girl?

Being my Seester, she understands about the importance of the Daily Workout, so she & The Mate went to the gym while I went for walk along the Huron River.

Always before I’ve been on my bike there, so for the first time I walked on this WONDERFUL pedestrian–only boardwalk trail down in the river’s flood zone wetlands.

Isn’t it the coolest? It even goes under the railroad bed.

“Adventure awaits” is what this picture says to me.

Not many signs of spring yet, other than the bluebirds…but this pitcher plant looked hopeful.

My favorite, though, was this MASSIVE oak, which called to me through the woods. Oaks like these are one of the Five Things I Miss about the east (yes, Michigan still counts as east to me).

As of today, Road Trip XII is undergoing a change I should probably mention. The Mate has an important commitment in Seattle next Monday, and given Vanna + weather, we knew trying to get home that fast was a terrible idea. That’s where my Seester comes in. This morning I put The Mate on a plane from Detroit to Seattle, and Seester’s going to take his place helping me drive Vanna home.

“What are we waiting for? Bring on the Rockies!”

See you on the road…or maybe at the end of it!

Road Trip XII, Days 24-30: Some Things Old, Some Things New, One Thing Carolina Blue

Posted on March 16, 2024 by gretchenwing

No matter the weather when we get to Tierreich Farm, where I grew up in the Piedmont of North Carolina, we always go find the trout lilies.

Warm as this year is, they were past their peak, though we still found plenty down at New Hope Creek. And, as with almost every constant-seeming aspect of our stay here, they got me musing on how much continues, 6 decades on…and how that background throws into relief anything new.

Constant: my folks’ ridiculous driveway, which never bothered me before I drove a 22-foot-long van.

Don’t worry, Vanna. We’re parking you on this side and walking across. Because of…

Constant: my 93-year-old dad’s enthusiastic curiosity about ALL new gadgets, including Vanna herself. New: these days he needs a golf cart to go see things.

Actually, Dad’s a perfect combo of constancy and novelty. The fact that he had a stair-elevator installed in our basement stairs = a surprise. The fact that he really enjoys it = not at all a surprise.

Another example: he was one of the first I know to avail himself of the amazing technology in electric-assist tricycles (new). And he uses his just as he used to use his legs when he was marathon training: 20+ mile loop, with stop for a treat along the way.

I had to work hard to keep up with this guy!

My 88 year-old mom’s constancy exhibits itself in her physical fitness, her dedication to the woodsy life, and, I have to say, her beauty.

Speaking of Mom’s fitness: click here to read about last summer’s Master’s International track meet in Greensboro, NC.

These tiny bluets, also known as Quaker Ladies, always reminded me of Mom, for their simplicity and lack of ego. (Though “Women” would work better than “Ladies.”)

Speaking of Quakers, something new at the farm is this track, built into what used to be our back pasture. Slowly, my folks are donating the remainder of their land to Carolina Friends School; this track is just the latest piece of that evolution.

If you’d like to understand why this land is going to a Quaker school instead of to me and my sisters, click here for a little history.

But Stevie, World’s Cutest Ass, remains as constant (and cute) as ever–thank goodness!

Pushing 40! There’s a reason people say “donkeys’ years”. (Unless they mean donkeys’ ears?)

I adore the ability to know a stretch of woods so well, I can look up into a huge old oak and know that the thick-looking middle part used to be a hole…which, over the decades, I have seen grow in, and close up.

Off course, the most constant part of The Mate’s and my Road Trips is their raison d’etre: ~~worshipping at the altar of~~ watching Tarheel basketball with our fellow Tarheel fan~~atic~~s. Again, for those of you new to Wing’s World, click here for a brief recap.

Some food is also involved. (NC-style BBQ; collards; slaw; hush puppies & fried okra.)

One new thing I noticed, in DURHAM, of all places–home of arch-~~enemy~~ -rival Duke: this supermarket display, featuring Carolina’s AND Duke’s colors.

How open-minded! Maybe this diversity stuff is taking hold after all. Or maybe they just want to sell more soda.

Another new thing, on the disturbing end of the scale: the heat here. 70-degree weather in March is quite common in this part of the state (as is snow and ice storms…click here on that topic). But 80 degrees? When the woods haven’t leafed out yet? That just feels WEIRD.

Pictured here: Gretchen trying to make the most out of too much sun in trees.

Unsettling as climate change is for all of us, I still take heart in this single tiny flower I met down at the creek. Not only is it persevering in the heat…it’s also just about the right shade of blue.

Road Trip XII, Days 19-23: Blueridge Blues (If Blues Were Happy)

Posted on March 8, 2024 by gretchenwing

The Mate and I know already what fortunate folks we are. But when we come back to the Blueridge of NC, we REALLY know it.

Thanks to accidents of history and confluence of taste, we have an embarrassment of dear friends in these mountains, and this year we were able to spend time with most of them.

Vanna, not so much. Our first set of friends live up at 3,500 feet; the drive up was only half as terrifying as the drive down. And their driveway?

Because they’re wonderful people, our friends were able to secure a parking spot for Vanna at the edge of a neighbor’s property. We left her there for 3 days, schlepping our stuff the remaining 1/4 mile up the mountain on foot.

What happened to dancing w/ her what brung ya?!

This mountaintop neighborhood is a wealthy one. Some of the houses are, in my opinion, ridiculously large–especially when I learned that this one is empty more often than not.

But I have to admit, it’s pretty enough that I took its picture.

The lots up there are large enough to protect the sense of mountain-ness, and care was clearly taken in building the road.

Aside from the fact that we adore our friends and they spoil us rotten, this was simply a very peaceful spot to hang out. It’s always hard to leave Butler Mountain.

Yes, that is the moon hanging out, waiting to say Good Morning to the sun. Honestly.

But our next stop was a picnic date with one of my VERY oldest friends (from Middle School) + husband + sister, down a few thousand feet at the French Broad River, which flows through Asheville. We chose this spot because we knew we couldn’t get Vanna into our friends’ driveway either. (slightly embarrassed eyeroll)

Lucky for us, the French Broad boasts a terrific bike path! And it was a gorgeous day. All this plus good friends & a picnic too.

Asheville is super trendy right now, and expensive, but I did find myself intrigued by this row of what I take to be “Tiny houses” down by the river.

Cute, right? But probably not a Tiny Price Tag.

From there we journeyed an hour to the northeast, to the South Toe River valley, home of the Celo Community and the Arthur Morgan School. I wrote about my Celo history two years ago; you can read about it here if you’d like some background (or just to learn more about this cool place).

THIS friend’s driveway was, finally, fully Vanna-accessible…as long as we took it slowly.

Also magically mossy. Believe it or not, our friend is not an Elf.

The sunny blue of Asheville departed at Celo, but the wintry woods are just as beautiful in fog.

The Mate doing his best impression of a rhododendron

To know these woods with such intimacy…to stare at them from a kitchen window or a sofa, to walk right out the door, to say the names of the creeks and the peaks…this, to me, is a privilege far beyond the simple joy of SEEING this place. That is our greatest gratitude, to the friends who have sunk roots here, allowing us to return again and again.

Till next time, White Oak Creek! Don’t you change.

Road Trip XII, Days 14-18, Albuquerque to Alabama: “Not Pictured”

Posted on March 4, 2024 by gretchenwing

Campering may be different from camping, but in one respect, road-tripping in Vanna Grey is no different than in any other vehicle. When it comes to route, THE WEATHER IS IN CHARGE.

And thanks to climate change, late-February weather has tricks up its sleeve we’d never have dreamed of when we started this road-tripping business a dozen years ago.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. We left Albuquerque on Thursday in bright, innocent sunshine. If my Adventure Buddy Beth hadn’t been leaving too, we’d have been mighty tempted to stay.

Drawing us forward, though, was a reservation that night for one of our favorite road-trip discoveries: gorgeous Palo Duro Canyon.

Pictured: Palo Duro in 2017. Not pictured: Palo Duro in 2024.

Imagine the prettiest little cousin of Grand Canyon, only 30 minutes from Amarillo (the big ugly child of a cattle feedlot and a monster truck rally).

But I shouldn’t be saying mean things about Amarillo. Right now it’s an endangered oasis in a hot desert of suffering, thanks to the million-plus-square-mile fire that was burning out of control just north of there. Just when we wanted to drive on through.

[Not pictured: The Smokehouse Creek Fire. Nor all the fires in Oklahoma, along the length of I-40…the route we’d planned to take.]

Weirdly enough, the top of the Texas Panhandle was also getting SNOW that morning—good for the fires, I guess, but one more reason for us to keep ourselves and Vanna out of trouble.

[Not pictured: “Some say the world will end in fire/Some say in ice.”]

So we ditched all plans, and our camping reservation (sob) and headed SSE to Roswell (not pictured: aliens), then straight east into…big sigh…West Texas. Which, as it happened, was delightfully snow-free, and NOT ON FIRE.

[Not pictured: West Texas, or the motel we defaulted to when we couldn’t find a campground that felt like it catered to—well, folks with discretionary funds and time. Vacationers, not those planted by necessity. I’m glad those campgrounds are there for those who need them. I just didn’t want to stay there.]

[Not pictured: those campgrounds.]

Our second day driving through Texas, we did score a decent bike path on the outskirts of Dallas…

(Not pictured: the stench from either a dump or a sewage plant—or both)

…and a pleasant campground at a state park near the Louisiana border. We got there as darkness fell, and next morning I forgot to take a picture, so…

[Not pictured: Eastern Texas’s Martin Creek Lake State Park]

Next day we got another nice bike ride in Shreveport, Louisiana.

It’s the Red River, but it’s doing a pretty good Mississippi impression.

Along the way, I noticed that the clover we were zooming past all seemed to have spotted leaves. On closer examination…

Happy St. Pattentines Day? St. Valentrick’s Day? “I love you; good luck!”

It was a Tarheel Men’s Basketball Day, and since we’ve been missing a lot of games due to travel, we decided to treat ourselves to a motel in Clinton, Mississippi with a TV. Afterward, I took myself on a walk around the nearby campus of Mississippi College and made the acquaintance of some attractive trees.

when it’s such a relief just to have something to photograph

#treenerd (Doesn’t it seem like this one needs a swamp instead of a lawn?)

The trees didn’t care about the Heels’ victory as much as I did.

On our last day that doesn’t include my home state of North Carolina, we managed to combine both recreation and camping by stopping at Oak Mountain State Park, just outside of Birmingham, Alabama. We’ve stayed here twice before and I’ve recorded our admiration for the park’s trails both times.

Spring was busting out…

Sometimes this is all you need. Which is good, because this is all you get.

…including my favorite southern treat, the redbud:

Our last visit, however, was a few years ago and since then I’ve read a book which has changed the way I experience Oak Mountain. Economist Heather McGhee’s book, The Sum of Us: What Racism Costs Everyone and How We Can Prosper Together, explores the lengths to which white America cut off its own nose to spite its segregationist face, when forced to integrate public facilities following the Brown v. Board decision.

Rather than swim with Black folks, white folks all over the country FILLED IN AND DESTROYED THEIR PUBLIC SWIMMING POOLS. The largest such public pool in the U.S. at the time? According to Dr. McGhee, it was right here at Oak Mountain, and it’s now an equestrian field. Next to which we camped.

(Not pictured: a huge public swimming pool filled with multi-racial families.)

Talk about erasure! We’d enjoyed the place twice and would have continued to blithely enjoy it without knowledge of this despicable history, had it not been for Dr. McGhee’s scholarship. I highly recommend her book; it will actually fill you with more zeal than despair.

But for now? It’s on to North Carolina, and all the friends and family and fried chicken and Tarheels that entails. I can just picture it. See you there!

Oh, so you finally remembered to take a picture of ME? This whole NC thing better be worth it…

Road Trip XII, Days 11-13: Shameless Self-Promotion–and Albuquerque Too

Posted on February 28, 2024 by gretchenwing

It was hard to leave the Chiricahuas on Monday morning, and they didn’t make it any easier.

But we knew we were headed to a sweet spot on Road Trip XII: Albuquerque, home of my Adventure Buddy Beth (a former Lopezian & very gifted musician). It, and she, did not disappoint…and I’ll get to that in a moment.

Before that, though, social media has reminded me that this month marks the 10-year anniversary of my publication of The Flying Burgowski. Social media also reminds me (like a pushy theater mom) to make a little something of this fact. So here goes.

Need a good, edgy, but heartwarming story to distract you from the headlines? Have a young person in your life (age 11 & up) who loves both fantasy AND real life? Click here to get your copy now…or, even better, ask your local bookstore to order it for you!

Shameless self-promotion: check. Now, back to Albuquerque.

The Mate and I love the place. Twenty years ago we spent 5 months in Santa Fe as part of his sabbatical, but realized later that its big, gritty cousin down I-25 was a better fit for us: less touristy, less expensive, and much better for athletic endeavors. Plus, ABQ has plenty of artsiness of its own.

Like this installation near Beth’s house, set up after the 2011 tsunami in Japan: it’s a “phone booth” for “calling” and connecting with faraway and/or lost loved ones around the world.

…or this bridge over one of the old local irrigation ditches (not yet open, but still in use)

Though not as ancient as Santa Fe, ABQ still oozes that wonderfully understated adobe style:

Most houses, modest or not, fall in with the local groove (though it’s not mandated, as in SF):

just some random house on my walk–but notice the basic materials.

Then there are the local flora and fauna, like this cottonwood…

My buddy Beth’s not a large person, but this tree makes her look like a Hobbit!

…and these Sandhill Cranes, stopping on their northerly migration to glean a field in the middle of the neighborhood:

Probably my favorite piece of Albu-quirkiness on this trip, though, was this vending machine installed outside a 50 year-old bakery…

Bakery’s closed? No worries, we got your treats right here!

…whose 86 year-old owner was still hard at work inside making empanadas, and New Mexico’s “state cookie”, the biscochito:

Despite greeting us with two days of HORRIBLE wind and blowing dust, Albuquerque redeemed itself today with perfect, still sunshine. It’s going to be hard to leave this place too.

Especially since the Texas Panhandle, and a good portion of Oklahoma, seem to be on fire. Not sure Vanna wants to go there! See you along the way…wherever that turns out to be.

Road Trip XII: Chasing Sun, from WA to OR to CA (good choice)

Posted on February 19, 2024 by gretchenwing

Note/warning: my WordPress stats inform me that this post I’m writing will be # 666. Here’s hoping nothing dire happens when I hit publish. Or maybe you should just stop reading now.

Still here? High-5! (and thank you, SF’s Golden Gate Park)

Road Trip XII got off to a rocky start. How rocky? Try broken emergency brake release lever…in the ferry line…in the dark…in the rain. That’s all you need to know. That, and the fact that wonderful Lopez supplied enough community magic to get Vanna Grey unstuck and off the island, eventually.

And we were off. Thanks to an appointment with our Darling Dentist of 30+ years, Dr. Norooz in Tacoma, we didn’t aim ourselves further than southern WA for our very first night of RV camping. Specifically: Paradise Point State Park.

A tad hyperbolic, the name, but the E. Fork of the Lewis River was pretty.

Because it was our First Meal in Vanna…

The stuff in the ziplock? Homemade bacon from Lopez piggies!

…I had to capture it for posterity:

Could I have cooked this outside? Yes I could. But not comfortably.

I won’t go into much detail about our RV learning curve: it exists! But I think talking about it might be pretty boring, except maybe to other RVers. Suffice to say I’m already surfing the blogosphere of other Roadtrek owners to answer my gazillions of questions, trying not to overburden our kind sellers by asking THEM. But this is a travel blog, so I prefer to focus on the places, not the transport. I covered that topic last post!

Next day it RAINED. ALL DAY. We took it slow, not expecting to get further than Crescent City, and we didn’t. The federal/state Redwood Park campsites were either closed or full, so I had reserved us a site at my very first KOA.

I call this “KOA Sunrise.” Because that’s what it is.

So far, so good. Vanna’s doing fine; we’re learning the art of downshifting on steeper hills without causing terrible grinding sounds. But really, all we’re longing for is…

Redwoods are why we road-trip. Also waterfalls, cliffs, crags, hoodoos, flowers…you get the idea. But just stepping into the forest at Prairie Creek (between Crescent City and Eureka, CA) is–well, it’s all we need.

They don’t even have to be fully alive redwoods! Except they all are.

In that place, even the non-redwoods assume some extra glory:

To be fair: you don’t need to go to CA to see maples like these; WA & OR have their share.

Fully soaked with beauty, we persevered on through several hours of truly HORRENDOUS rain and wind, including a scary crossing of the Golden Gate Bridge, to San Francisco and the current home of Son Two.

Amazingly, Son Two found us parking on his street along the Panhandle of GG Park…just three spaces up from our old baby, Red Rover the Subaru! Awww…

Immediately, it was damn the raindrops, full speed ahead! to get a speedwalk in Golden Gate Park, shedding the tension of all those driving hours.

Nothing like a little Street Whale to reduce tension! (Or Street Narwhal maybe?)

That park is such a blessing. I didn’t photograph the Great Blue Heron I took for a statue before it flew, but I did capture this guy trotting across the street:

This being San Francisco, I had to take a picture of a driverless car, because, really, can you think of an easier, flatter, more open city than SF to experiment with one of these?

This morning we left SF (once more in driving rain) for points south, and as I’m writing this (Post #666) I can affirm that the sun DID come out, and we DID receive its rainbow promise. But it was a pale version of this Tree of Light in the park near Son Two’s house:

a video does it more justice–google it and see!

Tomorrow we hope to meet the desert, with some REAL sun. But for now, on behalf of California, I’d just like to say: you know what? THANK YOU for all that rain. It was awful to drive through. But knowing what it means, we’ll take it any day.

See you in the desert!

Road Trip XII: Introducing…Vanna Grey

Posted on February 15, 2024 by gretchenwing

When it comes to vehicles–hell, when it comes to MOST things except politics–The Mate and I are pretty conservative. Comfy with routine. Change-averse. Sure, we have our “ooh, shiny!” moments…but they’re mostly about stuff like new rain gear or boots. Maybe lawn mowers and nice casserole dishes.

But not cars.

“Who, me? Your devoted Red Rover who just got passed from Son One to Son Two?”

We’ve owned a good number in our nearly 45 years as a couple, and we’ve usually hated every minute of buying them. Our favorite moments come when our car hits that comfy-old-shoe phase. That’s our sweet spot.

Pictured: a sweet spot (Road Trip VIII, Great Basin NP, Nevada)

Since 2011, when we began our annual Road Trips from Lopez Island, WA to Durham/Chapel Hill, N.C. (where I grew up and where The Mate and I met), any car we buy becomes our official Road Trip vehicle. Starting with our then-car, Kiwi the Ford Escape hybrid:

R.T. I, hangin’ out at Jumbo Rocks in Joshua Tree NP…

She served us well.

It was cold enough in Zion NP, back in 2012, we considered sleeping inside Kiwi!

At the end of 2012, Son One’s hand-me-down car broke down once too often, so he inherited Kiwi, and we treated ourselves to the first-model Subaru Crosstrek. Who knew what trendsetters we were! You’ve already met Red Rover, but here’s one more look at her doing her Road Trip thing:

“Road-tripping to Vermont in March, REALLY? Who ARE these people?”

Lil’ Red drove us faithfully every year from 2013 to 2020–the year we headed home super-quick, in the middle of the first wave of COVID lockdowns, fearing our island might be quarantined by the time we got home. Later that year, Son One had to leave Costa Rica and refugeed on Lopez near us, so we used him as an excuse to hand-me-down Red Rover to him…and told ourselves we were doing our part to boost the economy by buying a Toyota RAV4 hybrid.

In 2021, of course, RAVie didn’t get out much. Vaccinations were just beginning. Her first road trip had to wait till 2022. But she got there!

RAVie in the Badlands: “So THAT’s what this road-trip gig is all about. I’m in!”

Today, RAVie is a sprightly four years old, roomy, running great–the perfect road-trip car. What’s NOT perfect: my back. Even after surgery, sitting hour after hour has proven to be…a challenge. Add to that the fact that, road-tripping in February and March, our camping gear only gets used a handful of days despite being lugged around the country for 6-7 weeks, and you get…

...the great Camper Search. Yes. Once The Mate and I decided a campervan would be the best solution to keeping cross-country road trips in our life, and once we’d gotten over our sticker shock of even USED vans (forget new ones!), I started looking at vans. So many vans. Van porn, it felt like. Facebook Marketplace and TheVanCamper.com never had such a faithful viewer.

And that’s how we met Vanna Grey. But! Before I introduce you, I just want to underscore how incredibly off-brand she is for The Mate and me. I don’t mean brand as in Chevy Roadtrek–which she is. I mean “brand” as in habit.

Example. Here’s the pair of new slippers The Mate got me for my birthday, because I specifically asked for them:

But now go ahead and ask me: “Gretchen, for WHICH birthday did you receive those slippers?” I will tell you: “2021.” And if you follow up with, “So WHY haven’t you worn them yet???” I’ll respond:

“Because my old ones haven’t actually worn out yet.” Yep–over 2 years after I thought I’d need new ones, these are still going strong.

NOW you’re ready to meet Vanna Grey. NOW you’ll understand just what a momentous life change this is for me & The Mate.

Vanna Grey: more than a new car. SO much more.

To say we are a little intimidated is putting it mildly. We’ve never been RVers; our learning curve is STEEP. Bring on that comfy-shoe feeling!

“Just remember, if Vanna’s too much for you…you can always come back to me! Unless one of the Sons gets there first…”

But we’re also conscious of our incredible good fortune to be taking this step, and so very grateful to all the help we’ve had along the way. See you on the road!