It was hard to leave the Chiricahuas on Monday morning, and they didn’t make it any easier.
Love you too!
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.
Who hasn’t yearned to fly?
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:
It’s not just a wall. It’s a culture.
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:
Come here often?
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:
Not pictured: 86 year-old baker!
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.
Hi there–guess we all survived Post #666 together. Except for my mis-identifying our San Francisco son as Son One instead of Two–lo siento, m’hijos–everything worked. Let’s keep this trip going!
As the World’s Newbiest RVers, The Mate and I are learning the difference between camping and campering. What can go wrong with camping usually has mostly to do with the weather: are you too cold, too hot, too wet? Is your tent trying to blow away?
Campering, in contrast, offers an entire smorgasbord of issues. You are, after all, driving a tiny house.
Not tiny for US, you understand…but Vanna seems much less huge when compared to some of her…peers?
Again, I won’t go into details about propane and appliances and switches and all that other fun stuff that requires you to learn whether…that noise you’re hearing? Is that a GOOD noise or a BAD noise? Let’s just say the last week has been playing a bit of The Fortunately/Unfortunately Game with us.
Fortunately, we got out of Paso Robles and escaped the Atmospheric River drenching the coast.
From the car: crossing the actual Paso of Paso Robles (oak pass)
Unfortunately, the skies were still quite wet & gloomy in Twentynine Palms (see photo #1).
Fortunately, I got enough clearing to take Liza out on her first ride of the trip. Unfortunately, she immediately got a flat rear tire. (Lots of prickly stuff in the desert, even on the roads.)
Fortunately, we found a local bike shop and did errands while Liza’s tire was getting changed.
Unfortunately, Vanna’s battery completely died when we tried to start her up to go pick up Liza.
But FORTUNATELY, we weren’t out in the middle of Joshua Tree National Park, which has zero cell service…
If this isn’t called God’s Fist, it should be.
…so we were able to call a husband-wife mechanic team, one of whom came to jump-start us and lead us back to their shop, where the other replaced our battery. And because we are driving a tiny house, we were able to make & eat lunch while all the work was done!
Next up, Joshua Tree, hooray! Camping in Jumbo Rocks, one of the premier campgrounds we’ve never been able to get a reservation for! Site 92. Where are you, 92? Oh, there you are. Why is someone else’s camper parked in you?
Unfortunately, I had written our reservation into the wrong day of my calendar. It was the night before.At least I couldn’t blame that one on machines.
Oh Site 92, we barely knew ye! (Not pictured: us)
It was a long drive out of the park and back onto Interstate 10. But fortunately, as darkness fell, we were able to find an RV slot right on the Arizona border, which, in the morning, proved to look like this:
Not exactly the Colorado River of my dreams. Another difference between camping and campering.
Despite the unimpressive scenery, the next Fortunate item was the fact that this campground was ever so much closer to our next. So when we got here…
Lost Dutchman State Park, just east of Phoenix
…we had ample time for both hiking and biking! Fortunate fortunate fortunate!
Thanks to our friends Marty & Karen for tipping us off to this place!You just have to love desert survival archetypes!Our own personal campsite guardian
Once in Arizona, our fortune just kept improving. We stopped at the Tucson Airport to pick up our Adventure Buddies Kate and Tom…
adorable art installation at Tucson airport
…and headed straight for our Desert Happy Place, Western Side: The Chiricahua National Monument.
Hoodoo you love?
Since we pass through this area pretty much every road trip we can, I didn’t indulge my photographic impulses as much as I used to.
Tom & Kate provided this one!
But, I mean, you gotta get SOME of the flavor of Chiricahuas 2024.
One more?
OK, that’s it–I’m cutting myself off here.
Since Vanna’s not equipped for four, we stayed in a motel, then next morning drove the LONG way around, into New Mexico and back into AZ, to the tiny hamlet of Portal and the east side of these lovelies:
Desert riparian: my favorite ecosystem!
Since our favorite rental cabin was sold, we’ve started coming to Cave Creek Ranch: quiet, sweet, gorgeous, low-key, and chock full of birds. (And birders.)
Even with only my phone as camera, you should be able to see this Acorn Woodpecker.
They even have cardinals here–yes, actual Arizona Cardinals! (State bird of my home state, NC; I’m fond of these guys.)
Amazingly, Cave Creek has a resident cat, who apparently doesn’t bother the birds. “Beauty” is HUGE…and missing an eye, thanks to tangling with a bobcat, they said.
Beauty is a beast.
But my favorite critters around this desert oasis are the wild javelina. Or as I call ’em, piggies.
Taking a mud bath, right in front of our cabin. “Have you seen the little piggies, stirring up the dirt?”
Really, though–who needs critters when you have crags?
Crags. Salmon-colored crags. O the joy!
Our first night, the full moon rose over our cabin…
…and the next morning, the rising sun lit the crags an even darker color of salmon…
King salmon? Or maybe just lox?
…and my heart sang. Being here, neither camping NOR campering, is enough. Back to #VannaLife tomorrow, but for now, I’m just going to wallow like the piggies.
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…
…this.
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:
No roadrunner. Just coyote!
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?
Waymo stupid than it looks, even
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.
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
“That’s amazing!” said most folks, hearing of my sisters and I road-tripping to cheer on our mother as she raced the 800 meters and the 1500 at the international Masters meet.
I disagree with that assessment. Admirable? Definitely. Humbling? Yes. Pride-inducing? Hugely. But amazing…no. If you know my mom, Martha Klopfer, you would not be at all AMAZED at her racing. You would EXPECT it.
True to form (finishing the 1500)
Martha’s been running since the late 1960s. So have I, for that matter; our whole family formed early part of that first big Fitness Wave. But MY knees called for retirement about four years ago, in my late 50s. Hers still work just fine. My mom has literally outrun me.
Since COVID interfered with my 60th Birthday Sisters Weekend a couple of years ago, I lit on the idea of turning Mom’s race into a way to spend quality time with my sisters. So my Texas sister & I both flew to my Michigan sister, and from there we three “girls” drove down to North Carolina…
Did someone say ROAD TRIP?? Quick stop in the lovely Hocking Hills of southern Ohio
…via Ohio, West Virginia and Virginia…
Another quick stop: New River Gorge in WV (& highest suspension bridge in the western hemisphere, we learned)
…for 48 hours of family…
Family always includes dogs
…and track. While Martha did her stretches in the shade…
her fans braved a sweaty July afternoon to cheer her…
Carolina Friends School Principal Karen Cumberbatch (in CFS tee) brought family members, showing their support for one of CFS’s founders!
through the 800 meters (2 laps)…
They combined all the age groups from 70 up. The woman second from left set a world record for 75 y/o’s in the 5k the day before, 22:41!!!
When she finished (in 5:49), I was so proud I did something I almost never do: took a selfie.
But Mom? She and Dad watched the video I took of her race, then watched it again, like coach and player, and both agreed: Not enough up on my toes. Better try a different pair of shoes.
Believe me, this man would be out there too if his legs would let him.
The result, for a race less than 18 hours later and nearly twice as long: a 1500 meters in 11:06, which translates to a proportionately faster pace than the 800.
I didn’t need to take a selfie for pride this time. I had Mom with Medals.
Can I get some pancakes now?
If this were a different blog post, I might write more about my first-ever Sisters Road Trip. I might even mention the buffets we hit in West Virginia, both south- and northbound.
Or the bath I gave my hot feet in the Huron River in Ann Arbor
But this blog is about how our Amazing Mom isn’t really that amazing, in the sense that she’s trained us not to be amazed at the things she’s still able to do.
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!
Wing's World 