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:
They’re Tevas, and they’re amazing.
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!
The second half of our BC road trip reminded me of that old children’s book, “Fortunately, Unfortunately.” Except the other way ’round.
Unfortunately, the mid-part of BC that we had to drive through, East-West from Revelstoke to Pemberton, is very dry (which is why it’s so vulnerable to wildfires).
Fortunately, it’s also lovely.
Unfortunately, when we got to Pemberton, so did the rain.
Fortunately, waterfalls don’t care much about rain.
And I thought this hole was just as intriguing as Nairn Falls.Ditto for the mosses, and the river “potholes” in the rock!
Just above Pemberton is Joffre Lakes Prov. Park, which I’d heard was special, so I decided to make the drive up there. Unfortunately, this meant 20 miles up an evilly steep and twisty road. Fortunately, I learned ahead of time that you can’t even peek down the trail without an online reservation.
Oh…maybe that’s why the reservation?
Unfortunately, it was still raining. But fortunately, that meant fewer people competing for reservations, so I was able to get one. (And they’re free.)
Unfortunately, the hike is STEEP. But fortunately…I’ll let the photos do the talking now.
Middle LakeLil’ ol’ waterfall you pass on your way to Upper LakeFirst glimpse of Upper LakeHoly cow, am I looking right at a glacier?!Yep. Glacier. How else does that water get that color?
Unfortunately, I had to hike back down, and next day we had to leave BC and head homewards.
But fortunately, we hit a couple more pretty Provincial Parks on the way down Rt. 99, past Whistler, toward Vancouver: Brandywine Falls…
…which is also an easy hop-on spot for Canada’s exciting Sea to Sky multi-use trail.
Unfortunately the trail was a bit too steep and mountain-bikey for us,
but Fortunately walking your bike is good exercise…and it was still gorgeous!
Or make that “gorge-ous,” as in this one, which hosts a bungee-jumping bridge!
Unfortunately we accidentally drove past Garibaldi Prov. Park, one of the biggest in the province, because we didn’t think its raggedy access road could actually be the right road, and then turning around on the freeway got complicated.
But fortunately I got a nice consolation walk at Alice Lake, the definition of serenity:
So, yeah, unfortunately we finally had to leave “Beyond Compare” BC,
but fortunately I brought THIS image home with me, so I can transport myself with a glance…like right now.
O Canada–thanks for being! O BC–thanks for being the bestest, closest part to us!
The Mate and I have always had a huge crush on British Columbia. We’ve meandered up the Sunshine Coast, used Harrison Hot Springs as a base camp for checking out multiple provincial parks, thrilled ourselves with the Discovery Islands, and last September, spent two weeks exploring the lower half of Vancouver Island. And that’s not even counting the many times we’ve driven through on our way to the Rockies, murmuring, “Why aren’t we stopping here?“
Pictured: “Here,” a.k.a. some throwaway lil’ waterfall along Rt. 23
This trip was all about stopping here. Not traveling too far in any direction. Going in circles, even. Exploring parks we’ve never heard of. All in the name of soaking up the wonders of a place that REALLY needs a better name.
Beautiful Coastline? Best Countryside?
We started in Manning Prov. Park, especially of interest to me because it’s the terminus of the Pacific Crest Trail, of which I’ve hiked many sections.
Note the “You are Here” triangle up top
Since we were camped at Lightning Lakes, it seemed only fair to hike around them.
“2,400 miles–no thanks. 4 is fine.”
Bear Country? Bewitching Conifers?
The weather window started closing behind us at Manning, with snow predicted the next night, so we kept moving, down toward the flat(ter) Okanagan. We’d heard of the famous Kettle Valley rail trail, and in Princeton we did ride a section of it, but we also checked out trails in the community reserve of China Ridge, just above the town.
Thanks to the lovely woman at the Info Centre who sent us here! We’d never have found it.
The trails were more mountain-bikey than we usually ride, but we enjoyed our short stint up there.
Aspens! LOVE aspens.
Biking Country? Best Camping?
Next night we camped by the Kettle River, right where the rail trail crosses. Having had two rides that day, we just strolled some of it; the river was the best part. Notice the burned area in the back left? That’s from a 2015 fire. We were hyper-aware, this whole trip, of the fires still burning near Kelowna, and made sure to avoid the area.
Burning Cruelly? (unfortunately that “BC” could apply many place)
Following lovely Rt. 3 (the Crowsnest Highway) to Castlegar, we once again met up with the Kettle Valley River Trail, and rode another section…along the Columbia River. Yes, THE Columbia River–what we Washingtonians, and probably some Oregonians too, tend to think of as OUR Columbia River.
Horribly lowered by drought, dammed to within an inch of its life, clogged with industry…”Roll On, Columbia,” and good luck!
Behold Columbia? (That one at least makes some sense!)
After that ride, we swung north on little Rt. 6 to the tiny town of Slocan. We’d chosen Slocan because of its proximity to Valhalla Prov. Park, whose photos looked more national-park level than provincial.
Zooming in on Gibli Peak–gorgeous, but pretty inaccessible
But we soon discovered how hard it is to get INTO Valhalla.
It’s really a backpackers’ park, and we hadn’t come to backpack.
We ended up just hiking the bottom left portion of the lakeside trail, and that was PLENTY.
Big Cop-out? Maybe. But luckily for us, Slocan boasts its own rail-trail, which follows the Slocan River as it flows out of Slocan Lake.
Oh, OK. We’ll settle for this.
Slocan itself is a sweet, quirky little town with rainbow crosswalks and helpful volunteers in the library. We’d go back there in a minute, and maybe ride all the way down to some other simpatico towns on Rt. 6 with hippy-sounding cafes and bakeries.
Bakery Central? (I guess that applies to lots of places too) Biking Capital?
Even rockslides don’t stop these folks. You can hike right through this one.
Leaving Slocan, we decided to loop around a bit. The plan HAD been to camp 2 nights at Glacier National Park…but that weather window slammed shut, and we didn’t want to camp in snow. With an extra day before our hotel reservation in Revelstoke, we followed Rt. 6 back west in a squiggly semi-circle that took us back to–ta dah! The Columbia.
Or more accurately, ACROSS the Columbia, by FERRY.
They don’t even call it a river there, they call it Arrow Lake! Seeing that mighty river so abused brought us no joy. OK, a little joy. It was still fun ferrying across.
Burdened Columbia?
But that afternoon cheered us right up. First we got to ride yet another rail trail (Okanagon) along Laka Kalamalka, an honest-to-gods, true-blue, undammed stretch of watery glory…
On & on, just like this!
Looking across at another Prov. Park I wish we’d stayed in
…and then, that evening, near the lake, the Mate and I got our first Glamping experience, on a hydroponic farm!
Don’t worry, I didn’t know what a hydroponic farm was either.
Doug, the friendly owner of Utopia Feels glamping, gave us the full tour, including veggies:
Inside that white tube-tower, it’s raining!
…critters:
Silly & Billy, the goats, and Bad Bunny, enjoying veggie trimmings
…and of course, the glamping tents!
If anyone’s looking for an AMAZING wedding venue, I highly recommend this place!
I can’t say we’ll ever do this again, but it was a hoot and a half to do once!
And this is a SMALL tent. Some sleep up to six!!
Bountiful Campgrounds? Bodacious Comfort?
Bunny Cuddles?
Leaving the Okanagan behind, we turned north and east again, as if heading for the grand Rockies. But this time we stopped short, in the town of Revelstoke, home of…
…Columbia?! Is that really you?
…you guessed it: the Columbia River. Still dammed (just upstream from town), but looking closer to a real mountain river than I ever dreamed it could.
Beautiful Clarity!
Revelstoke nestles into a whole batch of mountains, including Mt. Revelstoke, which has its own national park. Clear skies were in short supply when we drove the single road in and up to hike toward the summit:
…but we got the idea.
Over the next couple of days, as the rains moved in, we took advantage of little breaks to revel in local awe (Revel? in Revelstoke? See what I did there?).
Creek showing glacial siltglaciers of Mt. Begbie, part of where that silt comes from
Just up the road (literally, up) from Revelstoke is Canada’s Glacier National Park, and it KILLED me to be so close and not go. But we were disinclined to drive in possible snow & ice. So…next time, B.C.
Best Choice?
But Revelstoke was quirky enough for us. Examples: Woodenhead, apparently carved decades ago by some dude for the fun of it, and adopted by the town:
Not creepy at all!
…and this Indian-German fusion restaurant we found.
Curry mit spaetzle? Jawohl!
After Revelstoke, stymied by weather to the east, we turned west. I’ll save that for Part II, because that part was
Hmmm. Turns out I’m feeling a little conflicted about this getting-back-to-blogging thing.
Seriously? After just two weeks? Why?
Because…I went on a road trip.
So?
So, I’ve always blogged about my road trips! I loved sharing pictures and stories. I think I’m secretly a travel blogger at heart.
What’s wrong with that? You love travel blogs.
Yeah, but I just made a commitment to blog regularly about some of the social causes I care about…making amplification my this-is-all-I-can-do-right-now “contribution.” I can’t just interrupt that for travel photos, can I?
Why can’t you do both?
Nah. It’d be weird.
How d’you know until you try?
*sigh*
Yeah, you’re probably right. Forget I suggested it. I don’t think you could handle the balance. I mean, it’s not like you’re studying writing right now or anything…
FINE. *deep breath* Listen up, people! The Mate and I just took a 2-week discovery jaunt through Wyoming and Idaho, two states that don’t tend to support the progressive political agenda I support. But they do have three things I DO support, wholeheartedly: mountains…
…wild critters…
…and flowers:
OK so far. Now let’s see you tie that promo in with your “progressive political agenda.”
Seriously? You’re just gonna shove Dr. Edwards’ talk into your post like that, then go back to the nature pics? Who’s gonna watch it?
You’d be surprised. I think there are a ton of folks out there like me, folks who love mountains, critters & flowers just like I do, but who also want to keep educating themselves about how to be effective anti-racists, like I do. They may not get to this video right away; I didn’t. But when they have time, they might come back and learn more about “history with eyes wide open”, as Dr. Edwards says.
If you say so. Can we see some trip pics now?
Oh, twist my arm. Ahem. On our way out of Washington, The Mate and I stopped to ride our bikes in Spokane, and marvel at the majesty that is Palouse Falls.
I was SO sad that the bike path bridge was closed for construction!
Our main destination was Grand Tetons National Park. But it turns out, one of the best ways into GTNP is through this place…
Yep, the Grandmother of all NPs: Yellowstone herself
We’ve both been to Yellowstone several times over the decades, and I’m embarrassed to admit I don’t even bother taking photos of their bison and elk any more. (Here’s an old blog post to cover that.)But I COULDN’T stop taking pictures of those prismatic pools.
No diving!
No words.
As planned, we only spent a day in Yellowstone, which was so crowded we remembered why we love traveling during the shoulder seasons (not Memorial Day weekend, for goodness’ sake! Who planned this trip?!) But when we drove across the park border into the Tetons, it was time for us to sit up and take special notice. THESE mountains were something NEW, at least to us.
Nary a foothill in sight. Just a sagebrush plain and then…BAM!
After a fews days of (rather WET) camping, we moved into a motel in Jackson, finally answering the question: what’s the difference between Jackson Hole and Jackson?
Answer: Jackson’s the town……whereas Jackson Hole refers to the entire region, the valley filled by the (not pictured) Snake River.Now you know. But if you’re from Wyoming, you probably don’t give a shit what the rest of us think.
The Mate & I were very favorably impressed by two other aspects of Jackson (besides its proximity to GTNP): its community bike path system…
We saw a TON of bikes at all the public schools. Kids and parents really use these paths!
…and its bakery, Persephone. (Aren’t bakeries and bookstores the best tests of a town, really?)
Just doing research for my own employer, Holly B’s on Lopez Island! 🙂
One more way-cool thing in Jackson: this vertical, rotating greenhouse built into the side of a very tall parking garage. Never seen anything like it!
The company’s called Vertical Harvest. The lettuces looked happy!
Our most prized hike of the trip came on a day when we got up early in order to be the first on the Tetons trails, and were rewarded with a moose AND a bear, in the same video! (You’ll have to take my word for it; it’s not YouTube quality so I didn’t bother uploading.) But here’s the moose:
Not pictured…barely!…is the bear that’s actually lurking just behind and to the right of Ms. Moose
Leaving Wyoming’s western side, we passed into Idaho and took a quick tour of Craters of the Moon National Monument.
I found the dead trees as entrancing as the dead lava.
Anyone else see a monster here?
Thunderstorms were forecast, so we decided against camping and added a night to our motel in Hailey, which is the cheap(er) town 10 miles from swankier Ketchum and swankiest Sun Valley. The Mate & I were pleased to find all three towns connected by bike path…
Heading over the Wood River, which was running HIGH
...and Liza and I rode pretty much every inch of it, including up & around a ski hill.
Definitely helps that Liza’s an e-assist bike! My knees are grateful.
But it wasn’t bike paths that led Liza and I to bumble into the most amazing “superbloom” of wildflowers I’ve ever seen outside the Cascades–it was a plain ol’ dirt road.
Are you for real, Idaho?!Yes. Yes you are.
Those flowers? They followed us into the Sawtooth Wilderness, our last spate of camping right smack in the middle of the state. I mean, yes, the mountains were just as striking as the Tetons…
Still reppin’ Holly B’s!
…but the FLOWERS!!!
I didn’t know Larkspur came in so many shades of blue!
We had more adventures than pictured, of course: elk and antelope and lakes and crags. But I think you got the idea. And I want to leave you enough time to go back and dip into that lecture of Dr. Edwards’, if you feel so moved. But whether you do or not–thanks for bearing with me all this way (or moosing with me). Here–I got you flowers.
Like my new word? I was trying to find a way to describe the way The Mate and I tend to travel, and it occurred to me: pretty much all we do, wherever we are, is look for trails to walk or paths to bike (or vice-versa).
Cathedral Grove, near Port Alberni
Leaving Tofino, we drove less than 20 miles down the road to Pacific Rim National Park, a thin strip of forest and beach that runs a good length down Vancouver Island’s Wild West Coast. The hiking trails are all short, but the longest of them is run by the Nuu-chah-nulth people, whose land it occupies.
It’s hard to get The Mate to turn around for a photo.
Along with offering some moments in the best parts of the forest, the trail tries to deepen one’s awareness of that culture, like this:
If only I knew how to pronounce those words…
This totem pole along the trail is maybe the most beautiful I’ve ever beheld.
I had a hard time leaving this.
Everywhere you go in that park, signs remind you whose land you are on–a convention our US parks would do well to emulate.
That sign, by the way, greets walkers and bikers for MILES as they traverse the longest path of all: the bike path that runs the entire 20+ miles of the park. The Mate & I LIVED on this path during our camping days there, using it to move from one beach or hiking trail to the next. And, given the number of poop-piles we counted, the local bears live on this path too!
Does the bear shit in the woods? Actually, no…not when there’s pavement available. (Not sure why someone placed a rock on this batch)
Of course we didn’t spend ALL our camping time on the move.
Not when there’s giant fungus to groove on! (foot included just for scale)
I’m not a “beach person” in the sense of lying on them for hours, but give me a beach with tidepools and I’m good–at least till the next mealtime! 🙂 PRNP has some AMAZING rocks and tide pools.
This one comes with its own window.
In one pool, I was amazed to discover an eating-sized fish who appeared trapped, as if in an aquarium. I vowed to come back next morning to try to save him if the tide hadn’t come in far enough…
Hang in there, dude!
…only to discover him, to my chagrin, still there…along with an even larger buddy…both of them attached through the gills by a nylon line, and the fisherman who’d caught them still trying to augment his catch. Apparently he was using this tide pool as his bucket to stash his fish, even overnight!
[Not pictured: pathetic caught fish in tide pool. I’m a terrible hypocrite; I just like to eat ’em.]
Seriously, though, I can’t say enough about this part of Canada. Come for the big trees…
…stay for the big trees at sunset!
Leaving the Wild West (regretfully), we moved slowly back through the center of the island, spending the night in Port Alberni. Not much pathing nor trailing there–but I did fall deeply in love with their bakery. If you want to know more about this very blue-collar town at the far end of the LOOOONG inlet which bisects the west coast, let me refer you to my friends’ blog–they do a good bit more than pathing and trailing when they travel.
[Not pictured: Port Alberni. Nothing really grabbed me there, visually; probably due to lack of trails & paths.]
On the way out, however, we walked in the Cathedral Grove (pictured at top), and later stopped at Little Qualicum Falls Provincial Park, where we vowed to come back sometime and camp. Here’s why.
Any salmon in there?
Luckily, we’d already had our leaping-salmon experience the week before at Stamp River, because…
Yeah, no.
…these falls were not exactly leap-able. Ridiculously gorgeous, yes. We had some of our best “trailing” around this river, seeing its falls from all angles.
Our final stop was Lake Cowichan, where I’d attempted to take The Mate on last fall’s ill-fated Mystery Birthday Trip (see previous post). The Trans Canada Trail runs through there, so we had high hopes of pathing it on our bikes.
But it was closed for construction. So we had to make do with the lake.
Oh darn.
Lake Cowichan looked even better from above, although the trail itself led mostly through the scruffy results of clearcutting.
The scenery finally got pretty just about when we were ready to turn around. Oh well.
We spent our final Vancouver Island night near Nanaimo, where we’d be boarding the ferry next morning. Yes, we did manage to find a couple more trails & paths nearby, but by this time we were starting to feel all that mileage in our legs. So we kept the walks short, and fell gratefully into the bed which took up our entire tiny room in this adorable pub/hotel.
Did I order the poutine for dinner? Yes I did.
We arrived home to find the Cascade skies still hazy with wildfire smoke. Happy as I am to be reunited with Maya the Malamute, I’ll end with this photo from the ferry back to the Canadian mainland, because…
[not pictured: the orcas we saw splashing along the way]
…see all those mountains out there? Can you imagine how many paths and trails they’re hoarding?
Thanks, Canada. With or without the doggone excuse, we’ll be back, eh?
After coming to grips with our sweet Maya’s need for intensive training to ease her reactivity to other dogs, the Mate and I booked her a two-week stay with local dog whisperer Stephanie Vallejo (highly recommended, but get in line: she’s very much in demand!). Then we looked at each other.
“You thinking what I’m thinking? If our dog is already being cared for…”
Washington State Ferries hasn’t resumed its service to Sidney, British Columbia, so we had to take the long way round. Oh darn.
Our first stop was the town of Sooke, just west of Victoria, where most tourists go. We’re not really into cities–particularly very Anglophile cities like Victoria immediately following the death of the Queen. Plus Sooke is known for its glorious rail-trail, the Galloping Goose, which the Mate & I have been eager to try out.
You can see why.
“The Goose” stretches 55 kilometers, much of which is as gorgeous as this part (where I saw a bear the next day). With a few exceptions, it’s perfectly level, and includes fun little additions like…some VERY high trestle bridges…
Don’t look down
…mixed forests, and shoreline, like this part fronted by what Canadians call Arbutus, and we call Madrona (or Madrone, in California).
Beautiful, eh
From Sooke we headed back toward Victoria, then followed the main highway north to not-quite-halfway up this INCREDIBLY big island, where we entered its mountainous middle. I was on a mission. I wanted to see bears, and leaping salmon. Maybe even together!
I got my wish. Sorry about the poor zoom quality on my phone.
That bear’s two cubs showed up a moment later, but I took a video of them instead of stills, so you just have to imagine. Were we nervous about the bears being only one river away from our campsite? Well…we would have been, had the ranger not assured us that these particular bears had been coming every evening, checking for fish and leaving, without seeming to care about crossing over.
Good enough for us to sleep well. We happened to know that the fish were just downriver…
…nope, further downriver…
…where the BIG falls are, summoning the energy to leap. As with the bears, I took videos of the salmon doing their thing and forgot to take stills. But if you look very closely…
VERY closely!
…you can see them massing in the canyon just below the falls. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Several specials. Getting ready for the big push. (But they also have a fish ladder to fall back on, in case they give up after 80 or 90 tries.)
Our next night of camping was on Sproat Lake, where the scenery was nice but not breathtaking. However, following my nose and some truly baffling maps, I stumbled upon one of the most magical waterfall pools I’ve ever encountered.
Did I skinny dip? Are you kidding? Of COURSE.
What’s weird is, I accessed this place via an ugly logging road under a power line, then had to climb down a bluff using a VERY scary rope “ladder”–to find this lil’ piece of Narnia waiting below.
Oh, and then climb back up again.
Good job, Vancouver Island–make us work a little for your treasures.
One of our two weeks is now behind us, and The Mate and I are at the end of the world, or what feels like it: the towns of Ucluelet and Tofino, one at each end of a peninsula hanging off the Big Island.
Image courtesy of VisitTofino.ca
Tofino’s where the kayak photo came from. “But Gretchen,” you may ask, “don’t you already live on an island? Why would you vacation somewhere so similar to your regular ol’ life?”
Could this photo have been taken in the San Juan Islands? Possibly.
But my answer is:
Nothing “regular” about THIS…
…or THIS: the First Nations village of Opitsat, which our kayak guide told us was the oldest continuously-inhabited settlement in North America, dating back at least 5,000 years (but more likely, he had learned, 10,000). Seeing it gave me goose bumps. (again–apologies for poor zoom lens)
The background snowy peaks of the mountains in Strathcona Provincial Park are just…extra.
And I’ll let Ucluelet speak for itself:
Just a teensy bit wilder than where I live.And so are the trees.
One more thing The Mate and I are really enjoying about this part of B.C.: its quirkiness. For example, our rented room is in the lower part of this…structure?
Home, sweet whatever you want to call this.
And their official control-your-dogs-at-the-beach signs are hilarious:
Wait, did somebody say Good Dog? Oh, we sure hope so. But meanwhile–thanks for the vacation, Maya! See you in a week!
It’s official: COVID-19 is no longer cool. It’s hanging out with me and the Mate.
8 days and counting…
Understand, we’re the kind of folks who started watching “The Office” in its fourth season. Who are only now talking about maybe watching “The Mandalorian.” Want to know why Facebook’s been on a slow downward slide among young people since 2010? That’s when I joined. (The Mate is actually cooler than I am; he’ll never join.)
Luckily, we have a whole bunch of “luckilies”: We were in good health. We both got only mild symptoms (the Mate, mostly fatigue; me, a juicy head cold with a lingering cough). While we did have to cancel some parts of our lives that affected other people (sorry, my fellow bakers & musicians!), we didn’t have to miss anything huge like a family gathering (or, I don’t know, an MFA residency). Most importantly, we have not, to our knowledge, spread the virus to anyone else.
Also luckily for me, thanks to my MFA homework, I have a voracious appetite for all the extra time COVID has gifted me. For example, here’s what I’ve read since I came home from LA just under a month ago:
I especially recommend Euphoria & the nonfiction Strangers in Their Own Land
I’m also super grateful for having to isolate myself during such stellar weather, as Lopez Island is (so far) not suffering from the heat wave overtaking most of the rest of the globe.
…because it takes extra time and attention to spot the small, subtle Elegant Reign Orchid
I do confess to being VERY tired of the gunk in my lungs. But it also reminds me of my English teaching days, when I’d introduce a Shakespeare unit by teaching the kids about the “Four Humors” of medieval “medicine.” Depending on which planet you were born under, one of the liquids running through your body would dominate the others, thereby determining your personality.
Those four humors? Blood, yellow bile, black bile, and…wait for it…phlegm.
Image courtesy Wikipedia
We still carry the vestiges of the Four Humors in our personality adjectives today. You can be sanguine (cheerful), bilious or choleric (angry), or, my own humor–phlegmatic! (Students were much less grossed out once they learned this meant “deep” or “hard to read”.)
As an on-the-cusp Scorpio, I’ve never felt very in tune with my sign. But right now, thanks to COVID, I’ve never felt more phlegmy–I mean phlegmatic. And I’ll take that Humor right now, thank you very much. Gotta accentuate the positive till it finally turns negative.
My first day back in the Evergreen State after returning from the first residency for my MFA in Creative Writing, I went for a short hike in the Cascade foothills.
Southern California’s beautiful…but man, I missed THIS.
As I headed up the trail, I glimpsed a cliff through the woods, and hearing voices, stopped to look. Of course: a climbing group was gathering at the base. I couldn’t make out their words, but I assumed they were talking about routes, or gear, or who was going to try what. Since I’m a hiker, not a climber, I headed on up the trail, silently wishing them safe fun.
Then it hit me: that giddiness from the steep learning curve of my first residency? That wasn’t just fear of inadequacy or excitement over reaching new levels in my art–though yes, it was also both. That curve is even steeper than I’d thought. And what’s really happening is, as a writer, I’m trading hiking for cliff-scaling.
For the past 25 years, I’ve been step-by-cautious step, trudging up a marked path…
Granted, that trail can get plenty gnarly, and it has!
…but now, I’m going vertical. Straight up. I’m trying things I’ve never tried as a writer, and I’m all in. No more dabbling, fitting writing in where I can, taking whole seasons off. No more excuses. I’m learning craft, and my teachers are going to expect craft back.
…that same cliff those climbers were preparing to scale. And I gave myself this little pep-talk:
“Yes, you’re spending a huge amount of money and time to learn to write the kind of book you most want to read. But you have new tools and a crew now, you’re all roped up, and you get to spend the next 2 years discussing routes and gear and who’s going to try what. Yes, you might fall, but you won’t die, and your crew will help you find your way back up.”
(or words to that effect)
If you look closely at the bottom of that cliff, you’ll see them there: my imaginary writing crew.
Now imagine me halfway up that cliff, scared to death, but finding my route. Here we go.
Road Trip XI …by the numbers: 8 weeks. 10,000 miles (best guess). 26 states. 62 far-and-dear friends and family members. 14 national parks/monuments. 20 state parks. 6 post-season Tarheel men’s basketball games (5 victories + 1 almost!)
One of these was waiting for us in our pile of mail. Order yours at johnnytshirt.com 🙂
…and by the category:
Best hike: Custer State Park, South Dakota, Needles region
My kind of needles
Best bike ride: Colorado National Monument rim road
Wheeeee!
(Honorable mention: Bizz Johnson trail in Susanville, CA …but it doesn’t win because it gave The Mate a flat tire)
The tunnels are part of its charm.
Best waterfall: Sioux Falls…even though conflicted feelings arose when I read about its blasted, quarried history
So it used to be MORE beautiful???
Best trees: California redwoods
I mean…c’mon. What’s going to beat a redwood?
Best wildflowers: Rogue River National Recreation Trail, near Merlin, Oregon
I didn’t even know larkspurs came in scarlet!Mariposa Lily!!
Best wildlife: tie between javelinas in Arizona…
piggie!!!
…and [not pictured] wild burros spotted in Utah off I-70 (a first for us)
Best sunset: outside our Virginia motel on our loversary
When God says, “Happy anniversary, y’all!”
Best restaurant meal: sushi in Chapel Hill with my parents
Mom, in her natural habitat [not pictured: sushi]
Best home-cooked dinner: our friend Ben’s roast lamb with chimichurri
Our friends Lynn & Ben in the Blue Ridge [not pictured: lamb w/ chimichurri]
Best gift from our hosts: kumquats/avocados/oranges from our Hollywood cousins’ trees
Best car snack ever! Thanks, Cuzzies!
Biggest detour: dropping south all the way to Las Vegas in order to avoid dangerous, truck-toppling winds
The sand-filled sky, seen from our motel room, blotting out the mountains [not pictured: 2 toppled semi trucks we passed on Rt. 395 when we finally escaped the winds]
Best silver lining: getting to hike & clamber in Red Rocks National Preservation Area (or whatever it’s called) just outside of Vegas, just before the winds hit
Some people like casinos. I prefer rocks.
additional bonus to silver lining: the desert in bloom!
Yucca? Should be called yumma!
Longest day’s drive: Moab to Las Vegas (460 miles)
good excuse for one more Canyonlands picture!
Scariest drive: crossing the Cascades on snowy lil’ Rt. 89 past Mt. Lassen in California
The cute lil’ motel we stayed in at Old Station, CA [not pictured: next morning’s snow; too busy helping The Mate watch for ice patches]]
And now for a couple of less-traditional categories.
Best basketball game: UNC vs. Duke in the national semifinal (81-77)
South Dakota Black Hills, I’ll always associate you with that game!
Best dog: Ramses in Olympia
Also best-DRESSED dog–thanks to Dia Tornatore for the photo & the hospitality!
And finally, the Grand Travel Blog Award for Best New Discovery goes to…Oregon’s Rogue River Trail!
I never could catch my breath on this hike–just too much beauty!
We’re already talking about how to get back there.
See what I mean?Waterfall over the trail? Eh…time for a photo.New favorite place, old favorite person
…but for now, oh my goodness–it’s good to be home, safe and sound and grateful as all get-out for this long, LONG getting-out.And now, as Wing’s World morphs back into its non-travel mode…thanks for traveling with me anyway!
What camping enthusiast wouldn’t enthuse to camp near this?
Meet Canyonlands National Park!
That’s exactly the problem, as The Mate and I began to learn a few years ago, and now, in the post-COVID travel boom, multiplied by ever more active Boomers actively booming around the same places we like, we’ve discovered a basic flaw with our mode of road trippin’: it doesn’t work any more.
But let me back up to where I left off a week ago. Knowing we were in for some dangerous winds, we veered south from the Black Hills and holed up in one of our favorite mountain towns, Estes Park, CO.
I took this photo entering town because I knew the Rockies would soon disappear in the winter storm. They did.
Estes Park is uber-cute, and probably a complete zoo in high season, which we vowed always to miss.
Riverwalk, with a lil’ snow still…but hardly any people. Score!
EP is so cool, it has its own elk herd!
I biked right past; they never stopped grazing.
While the trails of Rocky Mt. National Park (just up the road) remained inaccessible to folks without snowshoes, we were able to traipse up to my favorite Gem Lake with only a little bit of scary ice & blow-you-down wind.
a gem indeed
After two days in Estes–which included watching our beloved Carolina Tarheels come within inches and seconds of winning a national championship they were never supposed to be in the running for, taking the game down to the wire and giving it their full hearts and ankles (so proud of those guys, can you tell?)–we decided to move our trip a little further on, while still waiting one more day for the winds to abate before crossing the Rockies.
Luckily for us, we have friends in Denver (one of whom had just returned from watching the Final Four in New Orleans!). They invited us to stay. We enjoyed them nearly as much as we enjoyed their charismatic dogs.
Meet Sherlock.
Thursday, when it finally felt safe, we joined the semis crossing the 11,000-foot pass on I-70, marveling as ever at the peaks and wishing that downhill skiing had less of an impact on them. [Not pictured: marvelous Rocky peaks]
After dropping down, down, down, down, we aimed for Colorado National Monument, a gorgeous hunk of sculpted rock erupting above the town of Grand Junction. Knowing we had no reservation for a campsite, I kept my fingers crossed: Please let there be one! Please let there be one!
There was.
We got lucky that time–thanks to having a tent, not an RV, and arriving on a Thursday, and, oh yeah–it’s the Colorado National Monument, NOT National Park. Huge difference.
Still completely stunning–especially riding the Rim Road, which goes right along this cliff. I adore cliffs.
It’s always hard to stop taking pictures of rock formations; bear with me.
They call these “The Coke Ovens.”
Of course you can’t put railings around an entire canyon, but this particular railing seemed designed just for me…because OF COURSE all I wanted to do was crawl out onto that ledge, a.k.a. that flat-topped, nearly free-standing pillar of red stone.
Did I mention that I love cliffs? It’s not an entirely healthy affection, I’m afraid.
After a happy camping night–first time since early March that we’ve been able to camp on this trip!–we continued on down toward the town of Moab. Again: no reservations, so we had no hope of camping in either Arches or Canyonlands N.P. BUT we knew there were several BLM campgrounds strung along the Colorado River, which operate on a first-come, first-served basis. It was Friday; we didn’t love our chances. But once more…
SCORE!!!
We got the very last one, at 10:45 in the morning. (Then we spent the afternoon & evening hours watching disappointed would-be campers like ourselves drive by, turn around, and move sadly on. We felt for them; we were them. There are so many of us now!) [Not pictured: dust from cars of disappointed would-be campers.]
Because who doesn’t want to cuddle up to this???
Since we only had a half-day to recreate, we opted for Moab’s famous bike trails, saving the hiking for next day.
I imagine this is what the Ten Commandments would have looked like had God given Thirty instead of Ten.
We celebrated our special spot that night by sharing an enormous microbrew from the Black Hills.
First come, first served all right!
We could have opted to stay another night. One of the curses of the BLM system is also its blessing: once you’ve pitched your tent, you can stay up to two weeks, $20/night or $10 for seniors with passes. (Two more years till I get mine!) No wonder there are never any spots during high season.
By “high season” I mean spring. June-August, this place is WAY too hot.
But the winds were picking up again, and we wanted wifi & showers (BLM sites are pit-toilet only, and BYO water). So we reserved ourselves a basic cabin in town, and took ourselves to Canyonlands–the 30-miles-distant part, not the 85-miles-distant; Canyonlands is VERY spread out!–for a day of hiking.
Because there are too many types of rock to choose from, we opted for several shorter hikes. First up: Aztez Mesa. Yep–right up to the tippy-top…
…looks easy-peasy from here…
I love cliffs, remember? And ledges? Turns out I DON’T love ledges that look like they could crumble beneath your feet. This trail sent me scrambling to the left.
Seriously??!!
Next up: smooth red slickrock.
They call this one The Whale.How many blowholes does a whale need? And shouldn’t they be up top?
From the up-close to the faraway, this view of the Green River’s work, etching itself through layers of time:
Same theme, different view:
Totally happy to stand on that cliff! (Just don’t ask me to CLIMB it. I’m unhealthy, not completely nuts.)
One last look…just not quite believing it’s real:
The Mate would not hear of me hopping onto those flat, tempting red tower-tops. Can’t blame him; I actually don’t care to look at OTHER people on cliffs, even while I enjoy being there myself. Weird.
And just to throw one other rock formation into the mix, here’s Upheaval Dome, a mysterious , rainbow-colored pile inside a crater that geologists are still arguing over.
Slow uprising, or meteor crater? I like the latter hypothesis. Wish the colors had come out better; some of that sand is actually GREEN. Much of it, we learned, is salt.
Need a break from all the red rock? How about some red Paintbrush?
Go guys, go–you can do it!
We left Moab feeling both grateful and a bit deflated. Now we know that, if we want to nestle into that amazing habitat anywhere closer than a commercial room, we’re going to have to do the P-word: PLAN. Plan WAY ahead, like 6 months at least. One of the best parts of our road-trippin’ is its haphazardness, but that luxury seems to be evaporating.
But we found a silver lining.
Next morning, hopping back onto Interstate 70 West, The Mate & I were treated to three and a half hours of almost nonstop geological wonder. Starting with…
Wait–who put THESE here?
We kept turning to each other in confusion: Hold on. Have we not driven this stretch before? Wouldn’t we remember this if we had?
Yes. Yes we would.
The above photo I took at a viewpoint, where we parked. All the following, I simply snapped as we drove past.
Not a park. Just a bunch of roadside rocks.
The colors changed with every curve or hill.
Raspberry mint? What would you call this?
I think we saw every color except blue. Even black got into the mix.
Not my fault the black rock was on The Mate’s side! So yep, that’s his schnozz.
The colors and formations simply Did. Not. Stop…till eventually we bumped into I-15, and that, my friends, is where I-70 ends (after starting in Baltimore; we looked it up).
Mint raspberry? Give yourself a hand, I-70. I’m sorry I ever dissed you as boring!
So my takeaway from the past week is this: if you find yourself one of those disappointed, non-planning-ahead would-be campers…don’t whine; find your blessings where you can. Take a hike, and then go drive the interstate! #silverlinings #redrocks #istilladorecliffs
Wing's World 