BC x 3: Bella Coola in British Columbia in Beautiful Canada

Posted on September 19, 2025 by gretchenwing

For those of you who read my 2023 post on the various meanings of “BC”–don’t worry, I won’t subject you to more of that. I just couldn’t resist a nod to one more extraordinary BC discovery.

Since The Mate & I learned that a close friend got an amazing admin job at UBC in Vancouver–just up the road from us–we’ve been itching to go visit. Of course, since said friend’s job is just starting, we realized we needed to give him a little time before popping by…but by then our fires were lit. Maps were out. Venues were calling.

Yes, that’s a glacier, as seen from an airplane. I’ll explain.

Bella Coola is accessible three ways: by ferryboat–if you go to Vancouver Island, drive all the way up to Port Hardy, and ride the ferry for 16 hours. By car–if you drive 350 miles north from Vancouver, then turn left and drive another 250, 60 of which is gravel, including a super-sketchy portion known as “The Hill.”

photo courtesy Wikimedia, by some driver braver than I am!

Or you can fly. That’s the option we chose, and, despite the expense, we were SO glad we did. The sight of so many still-healthy-looking glaciers filled me with joy (despite my very scratchy window). And our descent…!!!

Not for the faint of heart…but worth the ticket if you love thrills. And peaks.

I grabbed this shot of the cockpit of our 20-seater plane, just to show the narrowness of the valley we descended into:

Green = safe. Yellow = LOOKOUTFORTHATMOUNTAIN!!!

Once down, The Mate and I looked around, then looked at each other and said the same thing: “Didn’t we just see this in Yosemite?”

Only this is no national park; this is where folks LIVE. That building? It’s an elementary school.

The town of Bella Coola is at one end of a loooooong inlet, giving way to a looooong, skinny valley, which ends in Tweedsmuir Provincial Park, and The Hill. One thing we quickly realized: with so little flat ground, hiking trails for our aging bodies were somewhat limited. But we managed.

This one included extra perks: suspension bridge, whee!

A couple of them I did alone, like Lost Lake:

But we didn’t let the lack of long hikes interfere with our awe and delight about the place, from large features…

…to small:

I even got to enjoy a fun cultural scavenger hunt, thanks to a Lopez Island friend who told me her Norwegian great-grandpa was buried at a Lutheran church in Bella Coola. I told her I’d try to find his grave, but all I found was an old-looking church, not Lutheran, with no cemetery, and this (closed) cultural center:

“Sorry,” I told my friend, “I’ll keep looking.” But meanwhile–forget humans, we had bears to find! September is full salmon-run season, so we hoped to see both fish, and fishing bears. Not in the Bella Coola River, which is thick with glacial silt…

…but in its clearer tributaries. Nor were we disappointed.

Salmon on the left: alive. Huge, upside-down salmon in the center: Thank you for your service. RIP.

Our first morning, we drove Up Valley to Tweedsmuir PP, and were promptly rewarded by seeing a pretty black fox (not pictured; I was driving), followed by a mama bear with 2 cubs.

I managed to pull over fast enough to capture Cub #2, following her fam into the forest.

The best bear-viewing spot, that first morning, yielded no bears.

Still a pretty good spot to hang out. No complaints!

But the next morning, as everyone was looking upriver at the most obvious fishing spot, a gravel bank, I happened to glance the other direction and spotted this fella, soundlessly swimming from OUR side of the river.

I repeat: he was on OUR side. Just behind us.

We all did like this person here, and activated our cameras. Most of what I took were videos–I wanted to capture sound and movement–but I did get a few stills (apologies for my lack of zoom).

Pointy ears; no hump; flat face = Black, not grizzly. Still a big guy!

Actually, during the salmon run, it’s obvious the bears have zero interest in attacking humans. Nice, oily fish are what they crave. What a gift, to be able to sit and watch them move, without feeling like we should be backing away.

We saw one other bear during our 4 days in the valley. But plenty of other wonders too, especially when we signed up for a boat tour…which also, surprise! solved the mystery of my friend’s great-grampa’s missing grave.

Our boat captain was full of history, with photos. Turns out the Norwegian families who arrived in the late 1800s built their settlement at the north end of the inlet…I’m guessing to get as far away as possible from the Nuxalk People who lived there.

See the old settlement? Nope. Because it’s gone.

Joke was on the white folks. In 1936, about 40 years after building their settlement, the Norwegians saw the whole place flooded away and destroyed by a king tide. All they could save was their church, which they pushed with canoes over to the road, then carried Up Valley…where it sits today.

No longer Lutheran, and no cemetery, but this was the church I’d been looking at! I was able to share this story with my friend, both of us agreeing her forebear’s bones now rest “full fathom five” in the inlet.

Capt. Daniel also stopped at the site of the Norwegians’ old school, explaining how the kids had to hike along the bluffs above the inlet twice a day to attend.

Far left: site of old school. Far right, not quite in the frame: site of village where kids lived. Yikes.

Capt. Daniel, by the way, had the most awesome First Mate: Buck, the Golden Retriever.

When we arrived at a site, no ramp was lowered: Daniel simply butted the prow against any handy rock…

…and off we clambered. Gingerly.

Our first stop was a hot spring. Have you ever sat in one that didn’t smell like sulphur? We hadn’t. It was MAGNIFICENT.

The big curvy thing above me is a cedar branch.

Here’s the view from Nature’s Best Hot Tub:

Wait. Is that First Mate Buck, asleep on the job?

When we got to the next drop-off site, our guides stayed in their roles: Daniel dropped us off and went fishing; Buck led us to the Big Cedar Tree.

Seriously. Not a guide dog–a dog guide.

Turns out Buck knew the way, all right.

“You’re not even capturing the whole tree in this frame.”

How about this?

Oh, that boat trip. We had waterfalls…

…ancient Nuxhalk pictographs…

That’s supposed to be a person. Telling visitors this land is OCCUPIED, thanks.

…and more glaciers, this time from below.

Before we left the valley, we spent some time in and around the town of Bella Coola itself, where the Nuxhalk culture felt pretty vibrant, at least to us outsiders.

I only wish I could have learned to pronounce that.

A nearby grove of cedars, some ancient, bears the marks of age-old cultural harvesting, both bark…

…and even wood, all without damaging the tree:

The last two days of our trip, the wind shifted and the valley grew smoky. We learned of uncontrolled wildfires to the east; Rt. 20 (The Hill) was closed. When it came time to fly out, this time we stopped in the tiny town of Anahim Lake, and got a good look at the fire-threatened sky for ourselves:

Not pictured: the ash falling from the sky

So after that sobering glimpse of what our planet’s facing, it was doubly gratifying and relieving to see those glaciers from above.

Restraining myself from quoting Robert Frost here…I’ll just say, “Hang in there.”

Next up: More BC! Islands, this time–the littler ones. Thanks for coming along.

Road Trip XII, Days 5-10, Paso Robles to the Chiricahuas: Campering

Posted on February 25, 2024 by gretchenwing

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!

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.

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.

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:

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.

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?

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…

…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.

Costa Rica, Parte Final: Campanario Is Not For Everyone!

Posted on February 17, 2022 by gretchenwing

You know an ecolodge is pretty hard-core when they tell you that right on their website. Then again, Campanario is not exactly an ecolodge. It’s a “biological station,” catering especially to student groups (middle school through grad school), but they will also take tourists ready for “off-the-grid Rain Forest adventure.” Like this:

Don’t worry–Son One checked it out with his flashlight first.

Since Son One worked as an intern here and brought us to visit six years ago, we knew Campanario would be the centerpiece of our tour once more. We found nothing changed, from the stunningly scenic beach…

Arrival = the boat backs in, and you splash ashore!

…the electricity-free cabins…

Also, don’t forget your flashlight when you go back down to the main lodge for dinner!

You reach Campanario via an hour-plus boat ride out of the mangrove-filled mouth of the Sierpe River and along the base of the Osa Peninsula. A handful of other establishments connect via a public coastal trail, but essentially Campanario exists in a little bubble of wildness, adjacent to Costa Rica’s largest National Park, Corcovado. The spider monkeys were there to greet us on our arrival…

…a male curassow paraded for his mate behind our cabin…

…and a coati helped itself to palm fruit nearby. (Coatis are kind of the Costa Rican raccoon–except they have raccoons too, lucky them.)

Campanario has its own trail system–the place where, in 2015, we saw that tapir featured in my last post. They’re pretty rugged…

…and rubber, snakebite-proof boots are so strongly recommended that they have dozens of pairs to loan to guests.

It was wonderful to see Son One in his happiest of Happy Places.

After taking this photo, I stuck my head in that waterfall. Ahhhh…

Hiking into Corcovado N.P., visitors are required to have an official guide. Son One doesn’t have that credential (yet), so Campanario provided one of his old friends, former station manager Freiner, to guide us.

Not only did Freiner lug a hefty scope on his shoulder during our multi-hour hike, he also let us take pictures through it. (He’s especially fond of trogons, he told me.)

It was still Son One’s idea to go inside that tree root, though.

I should pause a moment here, though, to make sure I’m not giving the wrong impression of Campanario. Yes, there’s electricity only in the kitchen of the main lodge. Wifi, are you kidding?! There is plumbing, but showers are…let’s just say refreshing. Dinner is eaten by candlelight. But the food! Campanario also boasts the best meals of any we ate in Costa Rica. “Just” basic Tico dinners, lunches and breakfasts like:

Todos los días: huevos, gallo pinto, plátanos fritos, tortilla, queso fresco, frutas…

Even for our day hike, Flor (Freiner’s wife) packed us gallo pinto (rice & beans) along with our sandwiches!

I’m a new convert to rice & beans as trail lunch. (Note Freiner’s scope in the background. That thing was heavy!)

At one point in our long Corcovado hike, The Mate and our traveling buddy opted to head back, so Son One guided them, leaving me to realize my goal of chatting in Spanish with Freiner for the rest of the route back.

I did notice, however, that my verb conjugation went all to hell as the heat & mileage caught up to me. Still, what a huge difference from six years ago, when I could only manage basic niceties! This time I got some of Freiner’s life story. Of course his English was better than my Spanish, but I’m not sure he would have opened up as much in English. Speaking the local tongue makes a statement of comradeship, I think.

Speaking of comradeship, we were especially lucky on this visit to have Campanario to ourselves! No big group of college kids as we’d hung out with last time–just us four, Freiner & his wife & cute little daughter, three other young local staff members, and Nancy, La Directora. Nancy treated us to a special sugar-cane pressing. We “had” to do the work…

…but our reward was delicious cane juice, mixed with Cacique and served in special bowls with a starfruit garnish .

starfruit from the tree by our cabins

What a special, family feel that afternoon had!

Lodge in the background. Foreground: all the rest of us revelers. (The young lads kept trying to sneak more Cacique.)

When it came time to leave…I didn’t want to. Three days of flashlights at night, rubber boots, warnings about prowling pumas and fer-de-lances on the trails, cold showers, no wifi…and it really felt like Paradise. Son One’s deep affection for the place seeped into me, big-time.

Waiting for the boat to take us back to civilization. Do we hafta?

One more thrilling boat ride, back to Sierpe, and from there our journey just kept going, as Son One drove us all the way back to San Jose for our required COVID test, our scramble to re-book a cancelled flight, our red-eye to JFK and even longer flight back to Seattle…all those delights of modern travel that I refuse to complain about because it was such a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful gift of a trip.

If most of this description leaves you thinking “No thanks!”, I don’t blame you one bit. But if Campanario excites you–as an individual or an educator–I encourage you to be in touch.

Even more, if the thought of tailoring your OWN Costa Rican adventure–maybe without rubber boots?–excites you, please enjoy this shameless plug of Liana Travels!

Costa Rica, Parte Tres: Livin’ La Vida Lowlands

Posted on February 14, 2022 by gretchenwing

Costa Rica, I’ve learned, is the size of West Virginia. But with such diversity, it’s really better to imagine all of California scrunched into the Almost Heaven state. Which is why, just a few hours after leaving the mountains with down vests on, we were sweating in our tank tops down on the beach.

Luckily for us, Son One’s company, Liana Travels, is all about lesser-known spots, so instead of parking us on the obvious stretches of sand we were driving along, he guided his rental car down a very iffy road, crossed a stream, and introduced us to Windows Beach, Playa Las Ventanas, where we could splash, but then rest in the shade.

One of the “windows”–a tunnel through the cliff to the open sea.

Our overnight was Hacienda Barú, a wonderful private preserve, reclaimed from cattle pastures and rice fields by an American, starting in the 1970s. (Ahead of his time, that guy.) He planted a ton of trees preferred by wildlife, and slowly, over the decades, lured the monkeys and sloths and coatis back.

2-toed sloth in a mango tree–very unusual to see it AWAKE and MOVING during the day!

Some of the trees were just plain pretty…

…and some, like this spiky monster, I learned were a sloth favorite.

Seems the mama sloths, when they want to wean their babies, go into the spiky forest and leave their babies. The babies take much longer to work their way out of the spiny trees, and by the time they get home–all done, no more nursing!

The cabins themselves were worth the stay…

…but the best thing about Hacienda Barú was its trail system.

Wonderful to have Son One along, but these trails were pretty self-guide-worthy.

I went out for a solo walk the morning of our departure, and just dug the heck out of the quintessential jungliness.

Look at this lil’ guy trying to dig its roots right into the middle of the trail!

Our last lowland stop, before disappearing into the REAL jungle, was the town of Sierpe. Son One booked us a kayak tour down the Sierpe River.

Not pictured: the baby crocodile we saw, nor the juvenile caiman, nor any of the three species of monkey who came to greet us. It’s hard to paddle and take pictures!

Since rivers aren’t necessarily his thing (yet), Son One booked us a guide, Henry, who also happened to be a member of the Boruca People, indigenous Costa Ricans especially famous for their mask-making and weaving. From Henry, we learned subtle differences in the habits of herons, and Boruca legends.

By the time we returned to Sierpe, I was thrilled with all the wildlife, but ready to get out of the sun.

After a cool drink, it was time to condense our stuff into smaller bags. Leave the iPad in the rental car; no wifi where we were heading. But maybe…just maybe…one of these guys?

Tune in next time for Parte Cuatro, o, el fín emocionante.

O Canada: a Letter of Gratitude

Posted on September 23, 2019 by gretchenwing

Dear Canada,

I know you’ve had it a bit rough this last week, re-discovering your own racism and all. Welcome to the club. Gotta tell you, though–I still need to thank you for the ten days I just spent with The Mate, introducing my parents to your Rocky splendor. You may not be perfect, Canada (big surprise), but you’re still pretty stellar in my book.

Thank you for your waterfalls.

Like this classic: Athabasca Falls in Jasper National Park

Or this one, coming right out of a cliff face! (Jasper)

Another classic, joining the Maligne River in Jasper

Can you ever have too many waterfall pictures?

Thank you for your canyons.

Athabasca

Johnston Canyon, Banff National Park. (Even though it was so crowded there I stopped taking pictures.)

Even your dry canyons are awesome!

Thank you for waterfalls IN canyons!

Maligne Canyon. Got pretty crowded there too…but can you blame us?

Thank you for the colors of your lakes.

The famous Lake Louise.

Lake Agnes in Banff.

The Inkpots, Banff.

Hard to tell where sky ends and water begins. (Jasper)

Can’t…stop..photographing…water!

Thank you for your glaciers, even though their shrinkage scares the shit out of us.

Athabasca Glacier, coming off the Columbia Icefield, is still making its own weather…

…but look how far the poor glacier has receded since we first visited in the early 80s!

Thank you for your wildlife, even when it’s right beside the damn road.

Jasper traffic jam.

Big guy. I was hoping to see him fight another big guy, but he was too busy guarding his harem.

Moose are my FAVORITES. We saw four along just this one stretch of Maligne Road.

My second bear on this trip had me wishing for a zoom lens for my phone. Gotta work on that.

After the disappointment of seeing NO bighorn sheep in any of the parks, we met a giant herd on the very edge of the city of Kamloops! This is only some of them.

Thank you for the reassurance that, even when all your pine-beetle-ravaged forests do eventually burn, which they must…

(Yeah, pretty horrible to see–trees weakened by drought)

…Nature WILL know what to do.

Thank you for your mountains, which are not like any other mountains I’ve known.

Maligne Range…rock from 600 million years ago, uplifted

But on second thought–thank you, too, Washington. Your mountains are no slouch either.

The Mate at Washington Pass Overlook

And for that matter…thanks for the reminder, Lopez Island, that I don’t NEED to go to Canada to worship beauty. (But thank the gods I can! And I wish some of it for everyone.)

Welcome home.

¡Pura Vida! This Mind-Broadening Brought to You By Costa Rica

Posted on December 28, 2015 by gretchenwing

Here’s what Son One says about Pura Vida, after 9 months in Costa Rica:

Pura vida. Literally: pure life. But don’t bother with a direct translation. In Costa Rica, it’s a greeting, a goodbye, a thank-you, a you’re welcome, a slogan, an exclamation, and an explanation. It’s a proud toast to your country’s victorious soccer team. It’s an energetic call as you land a dorado in the Carribean. It’s a gracious refusal of payment from a local farmer who gives the stranded backpacker a ride to town. And it’s the humble answer to any tourist’s question of “how can it be so pretty here?” “Pura vida.”

Nearly two weeks of livin’ la vida pura has given me plenty to think about. Actually, as you might guess, my experience was mostly visual, so I’ll share more pictures than words this time.

#1. I never really understood the term “biodiversity” until I realized that I almost never saw more than one of the same kind of tree, flower, or fungus in the same spot. Everything’s competing madly with everything else.

“Poor Man’s Umbrella.”

Passion Flower. Thought these only came in purple!

Biodiversity ain’t always pretty. (Beach Nut)

Plants upon plants upon plants…See any two alike? Right.

Who cares what it’s called? It’s so PRETTY!

#2. Costa Rica ought to be a Mecca for gluten-free folks. Rice and beans are eaten at LITERALLY every meal: gallo pinto for breakfast (rice & black beans stir-fried with onions and red bell peppers), beans or bean soup with rice for lunch, and for dinner–you guessed it. Nary a slice of bread, nor did I see any butter for that matter. As for dessert, who needs it when you have the best fruit on the planet? This might be the healthiest travel-eating I’ve ever done.

Note: I don’t generally take pictures of food. So you’ll just have to imagine.

#3. Sometimes other countries’ wild animals don’t quite match your expectations. We happened on some capuchin monkeys harassing an iguana. “Why are they doing that?” we asked our biologist son. His scientific answer: “Monkeys are little shits.”

People think these guys are cute, huh? Yikes.

OK, this olinga’s cute. But it’s also supposed to be nocturnal, and shy, and hard to spot. Someone should tell it.

And the elusive tapir? This one was LYING IN THE MIDDLE OF OUR PATH and could hardly be bothered to get up.

#4. Idea for next blockbuster horror movie: “Strangler Fig.” Seriously, these things are terrifying! They strangle whole trees from the top down, until…shudder…they BECOME the tree.

Tree, or nightmare?

This would be beautiful if it weren’t so gruesome.

#5. Just because a country is “developed” doesn’t mean it matches up to our wealthy, take-everything-for-granted standards. Example: many places we stayed at could not handle toilet paper in their septic systems. And even when we were zipping along on an American-style freeway, we could see that one little dead-engine incident in the opposite lanes had created a miles-long backup, because there was no shoulder, nor any “Rapid Response” state trooper just minutes from the scene. Reminder: appreciate.

No, I did not take pictures of the plumbing or the highways either.

#6. I am far too poor a photographer to capture the color-diversity of Costa Rican birds. The rarest bird of all, the Resplendent Quetzal, I only got to peek at through a scope: look, it’s a Christmas bird! But here are some of my attempts:

J/K. We never saw a real toucan, but I loved the way the Ticos made ’em out of used tires.

This big, gorgeous hummingbird’s called a Violet Sabrewing. I want that as my Roller Derby name.

Even prettier than its picture in all that tourist schlock: Scarlet Macaw (hey, another great name!)

#7. When you’re with a competent guide, the scary creatures are just as exciting as the pretty ones…maybe more so.

Son One’s finger–I’m surprised he didn’t try to pat the tarantula.

The deadly fer-de-lance. No fingers near this guy.

Why we didn’t swim in the Rio Sierpe.

#8. Beauty is universal. Every Tico we met let us know that yes, they KNEW they were living in Paradise.

Pura Vida…

Thanks, Ticos. Thank you for taking so much better care of your incredible land than most countries do. You are providing a very much-needed example. And who needs to flush toilet paper anyway?

…y Pura Vida otra vez…

Road Trip V, Days 29-31, Dallas to Flagstaff: News Flash, Scenic Texas NOT An Oxymoron!

Posted on March 23, 2015 by gretchenwing

Texas, I owe you an apology. You know you’re my favorite love-to-hate state. You’ve heard me say that someone must have picked you up and shook you so that all your scenery ran down into one corner, down at Big Bend. Oh, you pretend you don’t give a gosh durn, Texas, but I know I’ve hurt your feelings.

No scenery in Texas? I stand corrected. The Mate and I have discovered Capstone Canyon. It’s a lil’ ol’ state park about 90 miles south of Amarillo. For hikers and bikers and campers like us, it’s a lil’ ol’ slice of joy.

Crumbly red rock striated like glittery bacon with stripes of quartz:

People-imitating red hoodoos like something you’d see in Arches National Park:

Slickrock a la 127 Hours:

Balancing white capstones fallen from the canyon rim like giant clamshells dropped by giant seagulls:

And…bison?!

Yes, bison. Wandering around free. Capstone is apparently home to the Official Texas State Bison Herd. (Note to other western states: do YOU have a bison herd? Why not? Talking to YOU, Colorado!)

Now add to these images a perfect blue sky, 75 degrees with a cooling breeze, the honey scent of blooming mesquite and the buzz of happy bees, and…scene. Bucolic western scene. Within a stone’s throw of Amarillo! Texas, please accept my apology.

How The Mate and I wished we had planned to camp in Capstone Canyon! But we had only paid a day fee, and changing our minds would have meant driving all the way back to the entrance. Plus we wanted to make some miles that night to get us closer to Grand Canyon. Plus there were, ahem…some basketball games we wanted to watch. But we will be back to spend a couple of nights, weather permitting, and I can’t wait.

Leaving the scenic area, Red Rover climbed up out of the rolling redness and suddenly–boom, there we were back on the North Texas plains, and let me tell you, they are PLAIN. As in plain ugly. But now The Mate and I know their pretty little secret: beneath that flat brownness lies a curvy red heart.

If only more Texans knew about it! No one we know has ever heard of Capstone, or its more famous cousin Palo Duro Canyon. On the other hand…maybe it’s better this way. Bison don’t really enjoy company.