So long, farewell, auf weidersehn, goodbye!

So this is it... Here we sit (brokenhearted) in lovely Ogallala, Nebraska, driving back home. As I say every year, the great thing about Nebraska is you can wake up in Nebraska, drive all day long (in a flat, corn-lined, straight line), and at the end of the day, you are still in Nebraska.
If you've joined us here on the ol' blog, I thank you. It's been fun. All we do now is drive and park, drive and park, drive and park, 1,500 miles. Which really isn't bad considering that when we get home, we'll have gone almost 13,000. Usually on the last post, I put together tallies of everything... how many loads of laundry, miles hiked, loaves of bread, etc., but am just too lazy. If you've enjoyed the witty banter, our new coffeetable book titled "Lewis and Clark Were a Couple of Soft-Traveling Pansies", filled with photos and delightful quips, will be available for only $149.99, or 12 monthly payments of $99.99. So, um, that's it. Nothing else to say now. Guess I should just stop typing. Yup, that's a good idea. But it's hard to give up. Really ought to finish this up, though. Definitely. Anytime now I can stop ty

Rocky Mountains... The Moose is on the Loose!

Three glorious days on the west side of Rocky Mountain National Park... We've been three times to this great place before, but never to this side. Rocky is a hiker's park, with hundreds of miles of trails, all interconnected and spiderwebby. We did a couple of great hikes, Coyote Valley, Lulu City (that's for you, Lisa), and the Two Utes Trail. ("The two what? What did you say? What the heck is a Ute? Oh sorry, the two yooooouuuuuuthezzzzz") This was a great one that we'd never done before; it started at the Alpine Ridge Center (alt: 11,800') and then went through four miles of tundra, changing into forest. We got to see several pikas, and Liz drove to the bottom of the trail and hiked up halfway with Izzie. Izzie has just - in the last week - turned into quite a hiker, carrying her own pack, finding the best rocks to climb on, and peeing behind trees.

Speaking of wildlife, we finally got to see the moose that all of those signs throughout Canada and Alaska said existed. First was a juvenile bull that was on a ridge above our campsite. Next, was a mother and calf (that's a big ol' baby) that were in our campsite! Finally, last night, we saw two enormous bulls (BFM's) that were - seriously - like every great pic you've ever seen, but bigger. Unfortunately, it was just after dark, and we didn't think it was a good idea to walk up to a 1500-pound moose and flash it in the face. That of course, put us in the minority, as the place soon filled up with morons, er, people, carrying infants, lashing cameras, and walking six feet from these two big bulls, who were starting to get seriously freaked out. We left before we had to see the ensuing carnage.

Fun on Slickrock!

We arrived in Moab on Monday evening and had a delightful dinner at a great Mexican restaurant here in town. Tuesday morning we rented two Jeep Wrangler Rubicons and headed out into the wilderness. We went on a six-hour adventure that had us climbing cliff walls, descending narrow canyons, and clenching tightly. A good time was had by all, but I must admit it was a lot rougher than I thought it would be. Having done trails over slickrock and similar terrain on my bike, I had an idea that the jeep would be quicker and smoother, but the opposite was actually true. Spots that I would/could have gone 15-20 mph on the bike we had to go 5-10.

Last night I went for a great ride at the Slickrock Trail, on their “practice loop”. It’s the same quality of riding, but it’s 2 ½ miles instead of 12. It’s what everybody (who’s smart) rides as the sun is getting lower in the sky. I had the most spectacular crash I’ve had in a while… there was a ledge, only about a foot, onto some sand. There’s lots of sand on the trail, and I thought it would be the same, and as long as I hit it flat I’d be fine. But the sand was a foot deep, so my front tire sank in, I went over the handlebars, and my bike came over the top of me and hit me in the back of the head. Ouch.

This morning we got up and went for a hike in Arches National Park up to Landscape, Partition, and Navajo Arches. It was great fun, and the most exciting part of the trail was climbing a steep slickrock fin that was maybe 200 feet long and only about 12 wide at its widest point. Landscsape Arch is cool because it’s so delicate (even more delicate than the much more famous Delicate Arch) and thin… more than 300 feet long, less than 11 feet thick at its thinnest point. In 1991, people were just hanging out, enjoying the scenery, chillaxin’, when there was a loud popping and cracking overhead… 60 tons of the arch came crashing down as everybody ran for their lives! Now, it’s off-limits and you have to see the arch from afar. Partition Arch is cool because you have an amazing view into the valley below, and Navajo is the awesomest of all… it’s a slot canyon with the arch as its gateway.

Unfortunately, when we got back from the hike I took the ol’ Denali in to see why the brakes were making noise (which started less than 36 hours after we dropped $2,000 to fix the last noise), and we not only are out another $500, we lost the car for the rest of today. So there’s no more driving to an evening hike or bike trail. Instead, we’re enjoying Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, which was filmed here in Arches. And is just a fantastic movie.

Tomorrow we depart for Grand Lake, Colorado, and a couple days on the west side of Rocky Mountain National Park.

The Loneliest Road & The Oldest Things on Earth

Hi again! It’s now August 17, and we’re on our way to Moab. In fact, by the time you read this, we’ll be in Moab. And by the time you read the posts about San Francisco, we’ll be in Moab. You see, we’ve been traveling the great states of Nevada and Utah for the past three days. We’ve been driving US-50, which is referred to by locals (and even our atlas) as “The Loneliest Road in America.” We have, for three days, been experiencing utter desolation. This is where to come if you need to get rid of a body. It is almost definitely where the government isn't hiding the aliens and testing the weapons they don't have and won't use. This morning, after leaving the Border Inn at the Nevada-Utah state line (more on that later), we drove seventy-five miles (I spelled out the numbers to make it even more dramatic) before we saw a single sign of human existence other than the road and the power lines that parallel it. After we passed this collection of buildings which may have been somebody’s home, it was another 15 miles before we reached the next sign of life. Two nights ago, we stayed in Austin, Nevada. This little town is at a crossroads, and the distances to the next town in each direction is 70, 89, 110, and 117 miles. The RV park in Austin was, shall we say, the most rustic we’ve stayed at this summer. It was a piece of dusty dirt with the owner’s mobile home and room for 8 campers but with no room in between them. It did have a steep, rocky hill directly behind the campers, and the boys immediately wanted to climb it. It looked, however, like exactly the kind of place that an entire kingdom of rattlesnakes would live. So I asked the guy who owns the place if there are snakes. “Snakes? No, there’re no snakes. My kids practically grew up on that hill.” While my first thought was shock and just a bit of sadness that someone actually spent their childhood on that piece of dirt, I sent the kids scampering up the hill. “Nope, no snakes,” he continued as the boys gleefully climbed. “Just that mountain lion that lives up there and patrols the ridge.” Yes, we let them climb anyway – we just sent Alex up there with them!

Before leaving Austin yesterday morning, I had to run over to the gas station. While there, a family who was driving The Loneliest Road had their son lock the keys in their car. And learned to their dismay that the nearest locksmith was 110 miles away. After filling up, we left Austin and drove 200 miles through nothing (it is truly a lovely nothing, all mountains and coolness, not at all like the flat desert we were expecting) to the Utah border and Great Basin National Park. We’ve never been to Great Basin before (I wonder if the ranger/s there really like it or if it is like it seems: the Siberia of the National Park Service), and were glad to have stopped. Up on Wheeler Mountain, 8,000 feet above the valley floor, is something really worth seeing. (I’m proud to say that we climbed all 8,000 vertical feet. Of course, 7,400 of it was in the car.) Up in this desolate wilderness stands a grove of bristlecone pine trees. These trees exist in only a few isolated patches in Nevada and California and they are remarkable to look at. Even more importantly, these trees are, by far, the oldest living things on Earth. The oldest of them are older than America, older than Columbus’ voyage, older than Jesus, or the Roman Empire, or even the Great Pyramids of Giza. As Kieran said, "Even older than you, Daddy?" The oldest of these trees are more than 5,000 years old. I’m pretty sure that the great sequoias and coastal redwoods are the 2nd oldest living things on Earth. And the oldest of the bristlecones are 2½ times as old as the oldest of the redwoods. And after these trees finally die, they don’t rot… they can remain standing for several thousand more years. The tree that Mom, Dad, Alex, Gabe and Kieran are standing in front of (see the picture of the day) is 3,700 years old.

Ready for a good eyeroll? Back in the 1960’s, they were really curious about how old this really old-looking tree in the grove was. So how did they determine its age? They cut it down. Once the idiots finished counting the rings, they discovered that until a few moments earlier, that tree had been living for 4,900 years. (They now take core samples, which the tree refills with resin within a few hours.) They have taken samples from enough trees that they can now cross-date them… rings from different years look different based on the weather that year, and they can look at a specific ring and know exactly what year it’s from. In this way, we know not only how old the living trees are, when the dead trees lived.

Last night we stayed at the Border Inn (and casino, and restaurant, and gas station, and RV park) that really is at the border. The casino is in the west side of the building because that’s in Nevada, while the gas station and restaurant are in Utah, meaning that the restaurant/bar serves 3.2% beer. But then you can carry your drink across state lines into the casino. I’m not sure how that all works. I had a great time with the boys standing at the welcome to Utah sign, which also welcomes us from Pacific Time into Mountain Time. We spent five minutes or so journeying into the future and back again.

As I mentioned, right now we’re on the road to Moab. Liz is driving this shift while I type, and we’re finally on an Interstate, I-70. If you’ve never driven it, this is probably the most beautiful Interstate drive in America. Right now we’re passing by massive red rock cliffs on one side, painted canyons on the other, and the entire horizon is filled with geologic wonders. It’s just lovely.

A glimpse into the future: We've reserved Jeep Rubicons for tomorrow, and we're a-goin' off-roadin'. Wooooooooooooooo-hoooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!

If you're going to San Francisco...

...Or Sam Bafisto, as Izzie says...

Okay, I’m sorry if there’s confusion about what day I’m talking about when you read this… I started typing yesterday morning, now it’s today’s night, and we won’t get this posted until tomorrow night or even the next day!

So first thing Wednesday we dropped off the Denali (SUV) and the Monaco (RV) for service and headed into San Francisco. We discovered when we returned yesterday that the Denali was not going to be finished until Monday (we're planning on leaving Saturday and our campsites are reserved for someone else) and the Monaco had yet to even be looked at. But the good folks at Victory Chevy in Petaluma (*ding*) called extra folks in and got the work done exactly at 5:00 Friday. We were so happy to get it back that we almost didn't notice that it cost $2,000. On the other hand, Hansel RV (don't say we didn't warn you if you ever need RV service in Petaluma!) not only didn't look at the RV in 48 hours, they wouldn't even return our calls from San Francisco wondering if any progress had been made. We had to drive back from the city to hunt them down and were then told that they had no intention of looking at it before Monday. We're supposed to be departing on Sunday. XXX XXXX XXXXXX-XXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXX XXXX XX XXXXXXX XXX. Sorry, this post has been edited and redacted. And now, onward to lovely San Francisco!

San Francisco, as I may have just said, is lovely. Super lovely. It's also just a bit on the pricey side. We checked into our hotel Wednesday noon and I poked my head into the hotel gift shop for a second having seen nothing of the city... they were selling "half" coffee mugs (in a D shape) that said, "Everything was so expensive in San Francisco that I could only afford half of a souvenir mug. Um, yup. But we won't talk about that anymore.

We drove south from Petaluma and crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, which was an experience unto itself. Completely encased in a wall of fog, it was spooky and cool. We had fog-filled views of the city, and the (Oakland) Bay Bridge and the mountains and Alcatraz. A number of people were walking across the bridge, but it wasn't packed due to the fog. When we went over Friday, it was like the line ride at Disneyworld. There are lots of businesses built on renting bikes to suckers who want to ride over the bridge; problem is, there's so many people on a nice day that you have to walk your bike.

Our hotel was in the famous Fisherman's Wharf area near the waterfront, and as soon as we got checked in we went for a stroll around the area. Our stomachs led us immediately to The Blue Mermaid, a seafood café located in the cannery district right across the street from where they bring the fish in. They had this amazing crab and corn chowder, and the very best fish and chips I’ve had outside of London. After lunch, we discovered that San Francisco is chock full o’ national parks. Right there in Fisherman’s Wharf is Maritime National Historic Park, filled with all sorts of cool ships and vessels and other junk. Get it?!? Junk?!? Too funny. After we visited the ships, we headed over to Ghirardelli Square (note: it’s pronounced Geer-ardelli, not Jeer-ardelli, but don’t try telling that to anybody who’s grown up near the towns of Chye-lye, a-von, or Shar-LOTT) for some chocolate and hot fudge sundaes. Later in the day we walked up to Chinatown and had hoped to find some dinner, but soon came to realize that there was absolutely no way we could tell the essential cuisine from the really sketchy. The highlight was a team of young (high school-age) Chinese drummers and dragon dancers performing on the street. The highlight for Gabe and Kieran was that after an entire summer of swordfighting with sticks, we picked them up “real” wooden Chinese swords. We’ve dialed "91" and are just waiting to dial the final "1".

We also visited the Palace of Fine Arts and the Exploratorium, an incredibly cool and enormous hands-on science museum. Mom and Liz will tell you, however, that everything was based on the WOW factor and didn’t actually encourage you to engage in long-term explorations that left you with meaningful questions you wanted to pursue further. Teachers. Pssshhht. Whatever. Yesterday we also visited the California Academy of Science, which is a great natural history museum, aquarium, planetarium, and indoor rain forest all in one. They have this really cool white alligator. Unfortunately, they don’t seem to know how many people can actually fit in the building, and so you had to stand literally seven people deep to look at the exhibits. They must have violated the fire code. It was like attending a rave in a science museum. And so even though it cost $25 per person to get in (I know I said I wasn’t going to complain about the cost, but 25 bucks?!??!?), we only stayed about an hour.

There are so many great things about San Francisco, its cultural experiences, and its people. There is one area in which you would expect SF to excel, and that is in the quality of its street performers. Sadly, tragically, this is not the case. This is the city that holds the mighty San Francisco Symphony, and has given us some of the defining musicians of several generations, yet the street performers are the most inept, embarrassing, talentless hacks you’ll find anywhere. And I’m being kind. First off, you are only allowed to play the trumpet (badly) or the saxophone (even worse). But the “musicians” aren’t even the worst part. Apparently, somewhere in northern California there is a school for the arts that teaches people to stand still for long periods of time. Now, in any big city with street performers you’ll find these “human statues”. I have to say that would I care for these folks even less than Lucifer’s minions, the evil and dreaded mimes, except that these people are standing still and therefore can’t interact with you. There are two key differences here: First, these people are the dominant group of street performers. They’re everywhere. Second, they don’t actually stand still! They’ll be standing there with their hat or cup or whatever at their feet, standing still, but then their eyes will peek around. And then they’ll turn their head. Or maybe have a nice, long scratch. And they want to be paid for it. But you’re never quite sure if they are performing, or just waiting for the light so they can cross the street. We were also treated to a “Michael Jackson impersonator”, except dude was the only person on the block who couldn’t actually do the moonwalk. And while Michael Jackson (and may you rest in peace and if you didn’t actually do all those things I think you did then I’m sorry and hope you’re in a better place [although I’ll bet Neverland Ranch was awesome with all the roller coasters and whatnot] and Thriller was like the highlight of my life in 6th grade) was a 50-year-old who had so much plastic surgery he no longer looked human, let alone like Michael Jackson, this guy just looked probably like what 50-year-0ld Michael Jackson would have really looked like. And I have to say, in retrospect, maybe all of species-altering facial surgeries weren’t such a bad idea. The only other street “performer” worth noting was Mr. Sparklypants (I’m pretty sure that’s not his Christian name or even what he calls himself, but I don’t know what else to refer to him as) who was pushing eight feet tall (although honestly, a lot of people look that tall from down here) and was completely covered, head to toe in prism-like silver sequins.

The one cool street musician we saw in two full days was a Chinese musician playing the Chinese fiddle (I’m sorry, Professor Malm, I just can’t think of what it’s called right now). He was, however, in true SF street style, playing not traditional Chinese music, but Happy Birthday and Auld Land Syne.

On our way back toward the hotel, as it was starting to get dark, we passed the most formidable person we saw in the whole city. We saw her coming from a block away… tall, statuesque, in a very short dress, with very high heels (yes, it was a woman). But then there was a thick chain (think padlock, not Tiffany) that went all the up her thigh and just disappeared. Somewhere. And with her, wearing a studded leather collar, was the biggest, most vicious looking dog you’ve ever seen. And he was off-leash. In the city. And when they got to the intersection across the street from us, she inaudibly whispered some near-silent command. It was so delicate, so hisslike, it may have been Parseltongue. And the dog immediately heeled. And so did the rest of us.

We were incredibly fortunate to get three solid days of sunshine in the place they call “Fog City”, but by yesterday (Friday) all of the touristy spots had filled beyond capacity. We had planned for a winery tour today, but then learned that there’s actually a wine country festival going on, and all of the wineries will be filled beyond capacity. And it turns out that we don’t actually like people. Well, except you, of course. We like you quite a lot. We’ll except you there in the blue chair. You’d be the first to go.

We’re on the road today, driving the lonely road through Nevada, and will be stopping in Great Basin National Park tonight. We’ll be deciding tonight whether to go to east to Moab or northeast to Rocky.

For what it’s worth, I highly recommend a trip to San Francisco, although you might want to get that second mortgage approved before you go.

We never did locate the nuclear wessels.

California Dreamin'

Hello friends and welcome back… I’ll bet you thought I’d forgotten you!

We’ve been having a swell time here at Redwood, and this morning we’ve just departed and are going to San Francisco. We’ve all made sure to wear some flowers in our hair. We’ve got a long day of driving ahead of us so we were up early, hurrying to depart, and spent most of the day yesterday getting everything packed up. We made it 20 feet before Mom and Dad realized that their super-awesome automatic retracting steps weren’t, um, retracting. So we stopped. And waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. And a crowd gathered, with everyone wanting to help. It was just exactly like that seen in the huh-larious movie RV (the only Robin Williams movie I’ll watch) “Watcha need here is a sewer hose speader.”Except there was no sewage eruption. We finally got on the road at 10:00. (Update 9:00 pm: Upon arrival, we discovered that the super-awesome automatic retracting hydraulic leveling jacks aren't, um, leveling. We're taking the thing in for service in the morning.)

Sunday night Gabe, Kieran and I went on an excellent backcountry overnight adventure. We hiked down the Ossagon Creek Trail (with Mommy and Yaya part of the way) for two miles (all downhill!) and then Monday morning hiked three miles on the Coastal Trail (all flat!) to meet everybody else at Fern Canyon. Which we, of course, always refer to as Fern Gully. It was a great overnight adventure with just about the perfect campsite, a clearing in the woods with a stream on two sides, a quarter-mile from the Pacific. The area of the backcountry campground and that stretch of Coastal Trail are home to a large elk herd. I ran into them (well, through and past, actually) on my bike two years ago and there were dozens of them. It appears by the amount of flattened grass and the hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of examples of what we politely call scat that the herd is even larger now. We’ve been reading and watching Harry Potter books and movies in the evenings this week, and the wizards often transport themselves chimney-to-chimney via the Floo Network. So the boys figured out that we were being transported on the Poo Network.

Sunday morning we went to Hidden Beach, so-named because it’s in a cove unseen from the other beaches and available only via a hike through dense forest. Like, tunnel-dense. We went two hours after high tide and had an experience we’ve never had before. We’ve been to tidepools but never have we seen such an abundant and diverse collection of life. We saw dozens of starfish, anemones, crabs (although the birds had been there and it was like the crab holocaust… you could hardly move without stepping on a piece of some poor, delicious crab. Should have brought butter), snails, mussels, periwinkles, and more. We spent more than an hour examining all of the wonderful things and climbing the rocks. Sadly, we also found a deceased sea lion.

Saturday was a fantastic day of making use of a campground. We didn’t do anything productive (well, maybe some laundry) and instead sat around all day reading, playing at the playground with the kids, cooking on the ol’ campfire, enjoying a nice cold beverage, and berry-picking. The campground (it’s actually the Klamath Camper Corral – luckily not a KOA because then it would be named the Klamath Kamper Korral and you just don’t want those initials) is completely surrounded by blackberry bushes, on the trails out the Klamath River are also lined with blackberry bushes. We’ve had fresh blackberries, blackberry Cheerios, blackberry muffins, blackberry pancakes (Mom cooked! Outside!), blackberry oatmeal, blackberry compote to put on toast, and are currently bringing buckets and buckets of fresh and frozen (for jam) berries with us. We probably got back our week’s fee for camping in berries. The grand champion berry-picker in all categories--spotting, quantity, quality of berries, and efficiency of picking--is none other than three-year-old Izzie. No, we haven't adjusted for age. She's simply amazing at it, like a machine, some kind of berry picking savant.

Friday we went on a spectacular hike through the big trees. This loop took us on the James Irvine, Cintonia, and Miner’s Ridge Trails, and was about eight miles long. We saw every cool thing there is to see with the Redwoods on this hike… trees that are 350 feet high; trees that are just a shell of bark for 200 feet but are still alive and growing at the top; trees that were broken, then grew horizontally, then were broken again, then grew up, giving them a lightning-bolt shape; trees that you can climb under and through. I thought it was probably the greatest hike we’ve been on this summer, but I know that not everyone agrees. If Dad we’re blogging he’d say, “First there were some trees, and then there were trees. After lunch, we saw trees.”

We're camped in Petaluma, and right in the heart of wine country. We passed any number of vineyards and wineries on the way, and for a long while our road (Rte 101) parelled the Russian River. But I'm not drinking any @#*@# merlot!

So tomorrow morning we're dropping off Mom and Dad's RV (step, leveling system failure) and the Denali (exhaust/engine, leveling system failure) at two seperate service centers for, you guessed it, service. We're renting a car and heading into the big city for two nights at a real live hotel! We're not planning on bringing the computers with us, so you're going to have to hold on for a couple of days without my incredible, insightful, wit. (Those who read these words of wit...) I'd suggest reading a book, or watching the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy in one sitting.

Buh-bye!

Redwood Day 1

We spent a fun-filled first day here in Redwood... hiking in the tall old trees, walking on the beach, seeing some elk, picking wild blackberries, finding banana slugs.

The day started nicely enough, as we piled into the car to start the day only 3 1/2 hours after the kids woke up. We visited a couple of visitor centers (Redwoods is actually 1 national and 3 state parks, and each has their own visitor center), and then went for a nice walk on the beach. Those of you who have been to this part of the world know that there are major differences between the Atlantic Ocean in Florida or the Carolinas and the North Coast Pacific. Everything is rocky, with enormous craggy boulders and small mountains rising from the ocean. It's too cold and choppy and rocky to actually swim, but that's okay.. the views are what make it so incredible. While on this walk we did just a bit of rock climbing and a lot of driftwood swordfighting, during which Gabe, who has absolutely zero idea of where his body is at any given time, never mind a long stick, whacked his dear ol' Poppy square in his right temple, denting both his eyeglasses and his head. We also got a quick peek at some grey whales and some harbor seals. It's a great place where you have to watch out for both Sneaker Waves and tsunamis!

We walked through the Ladybird Johnson Grove of redwoods in the early afternoon. Seeing the great coastal redwoods is an amazing thing. It's not just the size of the trees, despite the fact that they are well over 300 feet tall. It's the way they grow in clumps and the "cathedral trees", a cluster growing in a circle that twist into a pillared roof hundreds of feet up. It's the mammoth rhodedendrons, and the ferns that are 10 feet tall. It's the redwoods, with their entire inside burnt out to a height of 200 feet, still alive and thriving and able to be climbed through. It's the gentle mist hanging low in the valley. At any moment you expect to see a brachiosaurus crashing through the understory. It's just awesome.

At the end of the day we had spaghetti with Dad's homemade sauce, frozen lo these many moons, and it was a delicious taste of home. After dinner we went to the overlook 1,000 feet above the mouth of the Klamath River and then went down to the beach at False Klamath Cove to do a bit of rock climbing and tidepool searching. Even saw some dolphins swimmin' in the cove.

The day finished with part 1 of a Harry Potter flick, and now we're doing what we do... blogging, reading, planning tomorrow. We'll see you then!

Riders on the Storm

Well, it was actually just a bit breezy and otherwise completely lovely...

We're staying in Diamond Lake National Forest, and decided today to actually not get in the car. We instead took a series of bike rides and walks down to the lake. The area is filled with both mountain bike trails and a paved 11-mile circuit that goes around this beautiful mountain-ringed lake. All of today's pics are taken from bike trails, quite often while in motion.

I got in 30 miles, Gabe did 16 (including 4 miles of hard mtb trail), Mom and Dad did 12. I can't actually sit down right now, but you really don't need all the details.

Just like yesterday, the wind shifted at around 4:00 and blew the forest fire toward us. There was quite a lot of smoke on the water, but fortunately, there was no sign whatsoever of any fire in the sky.

We built the world's hottest campfire tonight. It was drowned three times with logs left actually swimming in water and sprung back to full flame each time. Sorry, no hilarious song reference there.

Tomorrow we go to Redwood, the coolest, foggiest, greatest place there is. The only thing it seems to be lacking, actually, is any sort of modern infrastructure, including wifi. Last time we were there we sat in a cafe 20 miles from our campground trying desperately to get a signal. So there's a good chance we won't be able to post regularly.

Keep in mind, those of you who've been following along for a couple of years, that this is where I, world-class fisherman Mark Gowman, set the year's record on the Klamath River with a 33-pound king salmon. I also hauled in an 80-pound sting ray off the Carolina coast, and have caught a couple of other very large fish. I know this sounds like bragging, but it's just because I'm not actually a fisherman. These are the only fish I've ever caught. Even Babe Ruth couldn't touch that slugging average.

If we don't post anything for a couple of days, but you just have to know what's going on and your life isn't complete without your daily dose o' Gownezio, you can just look here and pretend it's happening right now.

See you soon!

Crater Lake!

Photo Caption... Wizard Island: Volcano-in-a-volcano.

Last night we arrived in Crater Lake, on our third attempt... twice before we had mechanical difficulties right at this point in the trip and never made it here. We had planned on a long day of driving yesterday, but there is a forest fire 40 miles to the west of here. We, of course, were approaching from the west, which means we had to drive all the way around the mountains to come in from another direction!


Today was a truly great day... we drove around the park, got to see the stunningly beautiful, crystal-blue lake, hiked down 700 feet of elevation to the lake, took a swim, took a two-hour-long boat tour (a two-hour tour, a two-hour tour...), hiked back up, all in all it was great fun!


Celebrity Sighting! We were just all hanging out, having lunch at the lake shore after hiking to the bottom, and who comes swimming by? None other than Hollywood superstar Brad Pitt! No, wait, that's just me. It's a fairly common mistake.

Caution: Educational Content. In case you don't know, Crater Lake was once a 12,000-foot-high volcano named Mt. Mazama that got ticked off and done gone and blowed itself up. Done ee-rupted so dang big he done falled in on hisself. It's the deepest lake in the U.S., 9th deepest in the world, and is the clearest lake on Earth. (Yes, they can measure it.)

We drove in through a wicked awestorm thunderstorm last night, hail and everything. Unfortunately the lightning set off a couple more fires in addition to the big one. It's all smokey and whatnot here. Incidentally - and this is important, so pay attention - his name is Smokey Bear. Not Smokey the Bear. He's got no middle name. Yes, I did once get a serious reprimand from a park ranger on this very topic.

How 'bout dem pictures?!?!?

p.s. Izzie has, for the last two days, started referring to herself as Jesus. Don't know why. We suggested to her that if she's Jesus, she might actually have to start being nice to people. Don't think she's going to fall for it, though.

Hot, Majestic Beauty!

But enough about Liz.

We arrived Wednesday at Mt. Rainier. Mt. Rainier is a beautiful little hill and a beautiful place. Many people say that it would still be a national park even if the mountain weren’t there. It is known for its cool, wet climate… except for now. We are here for a remarkable heat wave, with temps each day well into the 90s and over 100. We’re actually faring pretty well… it’s the locals (used to the cool, wet climate) who are having a really hard time. Of course, this heat wave has also crippled the electrical system in our campsite, meaning our big tin can bakes in the 100-degree sun all day but then doesn’t have A/C to cool off at night.

You would think that a heat wave like this would negatively affect the visual impact of the place, but the opposite it true… there is so much sudden snowmelt that the creeks, rivers, and waterfalls are running like we’ve never seen them before. The sky is clear blue, and in the morning you can see for miles.

Today we took a stroll around The Grove of the Patriarchs, an area filled with 1,000 year old, 200-foot-high cedar, fir, hemlock trees. The largest of them, cleverly referred to as The Big Cedar, is about 15 feet in diameter. Yesterday we strolled around Paradise, home to the most beautiful wildflowers anywhere, and then took a 4.5 mile hike on the Wonderland Trail (Mt. Rainier’s perimeter trail) down from Narada Falls. Mom, Dad and I did this hike in 2007, and it is one of our all-time favorites. In November 2006 there was a major flood… bigger than even a once-in-a-century event, this was a landscape-altering flood that did remarkable damage to the natural elements and destroyed the man-made infrastructure to the tune of $25 million. Nature will take years to heal herself… like the Nisqually River which went from being 10-15 feet wide to a flood surge sometimes 500 feet wide and 50 feet deep. See the pics for yourself at the bottom of the post… anywhere you see large boulders or a wide chute or swath (including Liz and Dad hiking across and looking at a gutter that goes all the way up the mountain), that’s the flood.

We love looking for and even on rare occasions seeing bears, but it’s nice to hike here and not have to worry about being something’s next meal. There is a small black bear population here, but that’s a far cry from our campground in Alaska which had “No Tents, No Soft Sided Trailers, No Being Out of Your Camper At Night Due to Regular Visits by Large Grizzlies and WOLVES” posted at the entrance.

Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to camp out here either… since the weather’s been so dry, a lot of people have come down from Seattle and all of the backcountry campsites within our skill/distance level are filled up.

Wednesday we also went Northwest Trek. This is a great zoo that only deals with animals native to this region, with an enormous, 500-acre preserve with the animals in their natural habitat (except for without the carnivores). You hop on a tram and go on an hour-long safari with moose, elk, bison, deer, trumpeter swans, and more. Pretty cool.

We spent Monday night and Tuesday back in civilization in the charming little hamlet of Seattle. We even ate at Outback Steakhouse! In the city we went to the great Seattle Aquarium, then had lunch at one of the outstanding pier seafood restaurants, and then took a stroll around Pike Place Market, Seattle’s great public market. Got some amazing cherries and other goodies, and got a bouquet of flowers for the RV… flowers are one of the most appealing things about the market… they are simply the most beautiful bouquets you’ll find anywhere, and almost all are priced at either $5 or $10. Most would easily go for $40-100 at your local florist.

Sunday we pack up and head (we hope!) to Crater Lake. We have had plans for Crater Lake twice before and twice have had some major mechanical catastrophe keep us from our destination. We think we have on-site access to both the Interwebs and the Googles, so maybe we’ll get a couple of good, regular posts up.

Happy Birthday to Grandma Gowman!!!

Alaska!!!

We made it!

Hello and welcome back to the Gownezio Blogosphere, right here on the internets. When last we met, we were in Jasper, Alberta, having a grand ol’ time. We have been in British Columbia for the last two days and we’ve seen some incredible things, both natural and cultural. We’ve also discovered that—as the saying goes—we’re not in Kansas anymore.



Alaska: The Majestic Landscape (bum-bum-buhhhhhhhhhh, bum-bum-bahhhhhhhhhh)

This is really a remarkable land. Everything is green. Everywhere you turn is another mountain, another waterfall, another glacier. An eagle’s nest. A spectacular rock formation. All you Lord of the Rings fans who have seen the incredible terrain of New Zealand where lush green mountains are everywhere… this is that place. We unfortunately ran into a lot of road construction in the last two days, but even the construction stops were beautiful!

Alaska: The Incredible Wildlife (duh-duh-duh duuhhh-dut – duh duh duh dee dah duh dee dah duhhhhhhhhh)

So in the last 24 hours, we’ve seen more bears than in all of the rest of our lives. Black bears, grizzly bears, young bears… you name it, we’ve seen it. Izzie and Kieran and I went to use a latrine of the type found in the wilderness areas, and when we opened the door to come out, a 3-year-old grizzly was hanging out, just looking at us, from 10 feet away. It was so surprising that it was good that we'd just taken care of business. We got to see another young grizzly standing up, and several just crossing the road. The highlight: We got to watch an adult grizzly chase down and catch salmon in a creek for about 30 minutes, while under the watchful eye of bald eagles. We’ve got a number of spectacular photos from Dad, and a great video of one of the feedings from Liz and Kieran.

Alaska: The Weirdness (reet-reet-reet-reet-reet)

Okay, so here’s the thing… this place, apart from all of the beauty, is really weird. The people here don’t actually see the sun for a couple months out of the year, and it seems to have affected them. But I don't mean in a funny, offbeat kind of way. They’re not actually all that friendly. Except for our new BFF, the border guard at Canadian customs, who just wanted to chat with us and let a line of cars build up at the border while we were hanging.

We have also been, for the last 24 hours, deep inside of a cloud. Visibility was so low that we could only see the sides of the road. We would have a vague knowledge that there was a river next to us, but not actually be able to see it through the mist. It was spooky, and we kept asking if any of us had ever been in a Stephen King novel before. (On the other hand, it did give us an excuse to play Misty Mountain Hop.) The spookiest place was when we decided to follow a one-lane road, which turned into a one-lane land bridge, which turned into a one-lane wooden bridge. And all the while we couldn’t turn around, we couldn’t see in front of us, and all we knew was that at any moment we were going to be swallowed up by the Pacific Ocean. When we finally got out of the car, I said, “Well, Mom, we did it. We finally made it to Alaska!” And then without plan, Dad and I both said “Can we go home now?”

But that was only the first Bridge to Nowhere we found. Here’s another:

Hyder, Alaska was once, in the late 1890s during the Gold Rush, the largest city north of San Fransisco. Yeah, um, not so much anymore. The government officially lists it as a ghost town. But there’s still people there. Hmmmm….

Incidentally, you don’t actually have to go through US Customs to get into Hyder. It’s a very odd thing… you see Canadian customs there, checking people, but you just drive right into the U.S. There’s not even a sign that says “Welcome to the United States of America.” It’s just “Welcome to Hyder.” And everybody uses Canadian money. And the metric system.

When we arrived at our campground, in the middle of a thick fog, in the middle of a downpour, Dad told the guy who runs the place that we’d waited a really long time to come and we were excited to be there. He looked around at the mud and the wet and the sorry conditions, put his arms out as if presenting us with his own part of the world, and deadpanned, “Welcome to Paradise.” I nearly peed in my pants from laughing so hard. His campground, however, is for sale, as is nearly every other business and piece of property around here. Bob, the owner, did give us some tips on places to go for a good meal. Places the locals like. He told us about a place that is hands-down the best place in town, a restaurant of such exceptional quality that even the finest French chefs would be embarrassed to have their food put side-by-side. Okay, maybe I made up that last part. Anyway, when we drove into town, we finally got to experience The Glacier Inn. Wow. One thing we discovered while there is that several movies have been filmed in Hyder and the Glacier Inn. This includes one called Leaving Normal. How appropriate.

So in the past few days we’ve been driving through northwestern Canada (I find it hard to believe when I say it like that), and we love it here. It is so beautiful, and the people have all been so friendly. Most of the people we have run into have been the native people, whom Canadians refer to as First Nations. We have stayed in the towns, visited the sites, and met the people of the Gitksan, Gitanyow, and Kitwanga. Git or Kit means either “people” or “river”, I forget which. Gitksan means “People of the River of Mist.” Now that’s cool. Gitanyow means “The place of many people”. This is the ancient name of the people which they have just started using again after calling it Gitancool (“The place of few people” for 150 years after smallpox reduced their population from 10,000 to 132. Bummer. They now have a population of about 3,000 and are very proud people, and they were very happy to show us their totems. They have just opened a small museum containing totem poles from as early as 1650, which were very cool.

Everything up here is made of cedar. When we visited the ‘Ksan village, the ancient longhouses were made entirely of cedar. Their furniture, plates, decorations, everything is made of cedar. It smells soooooooooooooooooooo good. And they were selling these awesome bench/planters, the bench about five feet long with a two-foot planter box at each end, all handmade, all cedar. Forty bucks. Canadian. And us with no place to put it.

Side note: Mom and dad accidentally left the bathroom ventilation fan (henceforth referred to as the “fart-blower”) on all night a couple of nights ago, and woke to found that even their bathroom had turned into a cedar closet.

Have I mentioned how cool it is to see bald eagles just flying around and hear them talking to their babies?

Just a quick recap… our last couple of days in Jasper were splendid. We went on a beautiful short walk around a lake, and also hiked up 1200 vertical feet to Cavell Meadows on Mt. Edith Cavell to have lunch with the marmots. I went on a great mountain bike ride (on real mountains!), covering nearly every trail in the immediate Jasper vicinity in one ride. During the most remote section of trail, I heard a grizzly “huffing” at me from just behind. And I was happily surprised to learn that I actually can stay on course on my bike, pull the bear spray from the holster, and get the safety off, all with gloves on, without falling. Luckily, that was the end of the encounter and I didn’t have to use it. But a while later, as I was riding along noisy terrain, getting a sip from my Camelbak, in an area with reported cougar activity, I heard a growl. Again, out with the spray, but immediately hitting the brakes this time, as cougars are the ultimate “chase” predator. Again, the senses heighten. I squint into the trees. I spin and seek my adversary. I call out “ Where are you?!?!?!” I wait for this moment that will decide my fate. So thirsty. But I wait. Wait for the ancient warrior. Finally, I take another sip, and for an instant, I realize the beast is upon me. But then I realize that my water reservoir is empty. And that growl I’d heard was the gurgle of an empty drain. So much for master of the hunt.

Alaska… The Farewell

So it’s a funny thing driving to Alaska… when you get to Seattle, you’re halfway there, more or less. We’ve been planning this trip for more than a year now, and we’ve always had a concept of what the mileage would be like. But the fact is, we’ve been defeated. I won’t say that all of this driving has worn the kids out, but the kids have worn us out. To get to our next stop in Alaska is 1,000 miles. To get to the next stop after that is another 1,000 miles, and it goes on from there. This loop of Alaska would be essentially like driving from New York to Atlanta to Dallas and back. And at the end of it, we would be almost 2,000 miles further from home than we are now. It’s not just the mileage there… it’s there and back. So this is it. We’re bailing on the plan. (At this point, I’d like to once again recommend the book Deep Survival, in which he points out that survivors have a plan, embrace the plan, love the plan, but ditch the plan when needed.) But we can now legally put the Alaska sticker on our official RVer’s map-of-all-the-places-I’ve-been.

Remember when the penguins finally made it to Antartica in Madagascar?

Right now we are back in Vanderhoof, BC, 400 miles east of the Alaskan border, at the junction that will take us straight south to Vancouver and Seattle. We’ll be in Seattle for Mom’s birthday (the 27th) and then are heading to Mt. Rainier, Crater Lake, and then a full week in Redwood National Park, one of our favorite places. We will finish before heading home by visiting San Francisco and Monterey.

So there it is, in a nutshell. We said we were going to go to Alaska, and we went to Alaska. We still hope to get to other parts another time… the Inner Passage, Denali, Kenai Fjords. We may come by plane or by boat, or maybe even have somebody else drive our RV’s for us, but for now this will have to do.

We deeply regret not getting to meet Aunt Patti, and hope to have another chance.

There was one more thing, however, that we had hoped to see in Alaska that was missing from our visit. After we had decided to depart a great sadness came over us realizing that we’d come all this way and still missed it. And then, just as we left, as if just for us, the sun came out. The clouds parted and the sky turned blue and the great panorama opened for us and there it was. Big as life, the object of our vision. We finally saw it.

Russia.

We’ll keep you posted. See you soon!

More about the fort from the children's perspective...

We had so much fun going to Fort St. James. One of our favorite parts was getting molasses cookies from a tour guide that were slightly burnt on the bottom - they were supposed to be fed to the chickens, but she shared them with us instead. Our favorite part was meeting a local Carrier (a First Nations) man who showed us how they make leather. At the end of his talk, he gave us each a real rabbit fur to take to the general store and trade for a treat. We had to make up a good story to get a good trade. Here is my story:

I came from far, far away trapping animals. I caught a black bear while it was hibernating. It kicked me really hard and knocked out a tooth.

I traded my pelt for 'gold bars' - the best kind really, filled with chocolate!

Yaya didn't think she could survive an entire winter on canned fruit and dried salmon jerky day after day. Winter comes early and stays late here - their flowers (bulbs) are just coming up now! BRRR... I don't really know what this means but the lady said the average low temperatures in this area are -30 degrees Celsius.

The RV park we are staying in is cool - Dave made a mini golf course with real grass. He planted lovely gardens all around it with fountains and water and everything. They even had a life-sized checkerboard with pieces so big you could play wizard's chess (okay checkers, but the battles from Harry Potter are so much cooler - I can't imagine checkers fighting)

Today we are visiting a 'Ksan village - a First Nations village with totem poles. I'll write more later.

Talk to you soon...

After more than a week without a campsite wifi connection, we've got one now... but we're packing up to move on. Tuesday night in Jasper, sunset was at 11:15. We are currently in BC, and yesterday we visited Fort St. James, the Hudson Bay Co's most remote trading post that was known as the Siberia of the Northwest. Today we are traveling to Kitwanga (the town names are getting cooler) and are stopping at Ksan, a First Nations village. Tomorrow, we arrive in Hyder, Alaska. We don't know when/if we'll have net connections, but we'll post whenever we do. Talk to you then!

p.s. Brian and Eva... Driving BC is like driving Kansas in that the view never changes from start to finish, except the constant view is thick, river-filled pine & cedar forest. And it smells sooooooooo good.

XOXOXO

The Beautiful Canadian Rockies!

Hello everybody! Hope you are all having a terrific mid-July! We’ve been as busy as beavers (but we haven’t seen any) and are currently in beautiful Jasper, Alberta, just over the border from British Columbia. So close, in fact, that I always thought Jasper was actually in British Columbia. We’ve got no wifi here or in Banff where we’ve been the past couple few days, but we’re making a run into the internet café in town just so we can keep you up to date on the goings-on. But I’ll bet you don’t even appreciate it, do you? DO YOU??? Bunch of lousy ingrates.

Oh, sorry about that. Continuing on... It is absolutely remarkable here. We are staying at the campground on Whistlers Mountain, which is named that because of the loud shrill whistle that the hoary marmots make. (Yes, I would also be offended if I was a marmot and got called that name.) It is a sound, incidentally, that Kieran can exactly duplicate, just as he was able to exactly mimic the “peep” of the ground squirrel in Glacier. This talent of his is really a point of pride for me… I mean, sure, maybe you have a kid that can throw a decent fastball or is good at math or can play the tuba or whatever. But lots of kids can do that stuff. How many five-year-olds can carry on an intelligent conservation with not one, but two species of rodent? And I think I should mention that it’s only two that we know of, so far.

If you’ve ever camped in a non-primitive campground—a KOA or some other type of RV park—there’s a certain aura about them, the way everything is in its place and all the ducks are in a row. Everything is arranged into a very special sort of blandness, a natural experience that seems to not have any nature. That’s not Whistlers. Here, we are in the midst of a mountainside forest. Right now I sit surrounded by dozens of pines trees, as birds flutter by and squirrels scurry through. The kids have a meadow right next to us to play ball or run or do whatever. Two years ago when we were here we actually had elk for breakfast! Whoa, don’t freak out Paul/ Darlene/ Rosemary/ anybody else… I mean they were our guests for breakfast, the whole herd of them hanging out in our campsites every morning for several hours. Today was our first wake-up here and we didn’t see any, but we remain hopeful.

Our campsite:

I just got back from maybe the hardest bike ride of my life, the only time I can remember that I almost barfed… I can barely stand up, so I’m here typing away and stirring chili for dinner while everyone else is on a short little hike to The Five Lakes. Check out the dude-sweet pics from my ride, including the black bear and the fantastic bit above and along the Athabasca River:

Note to you: All the other pics are going to be in one handy slideshow that covers the past few days. Quite simply, I’m just too lazy to split them up.

Last night we had Dad’s birthday dinner at Evil Dave’s, a one-of-a-kind restaurant here in Jasper that has a wonderfully evil theme. Since my fate has long since been decided I especially enjoyed this meal, but I want Gabe and Kieran’s Catholic school teachers to know that I had them do a Hail Mary in between every bite. The meal really was fantastic and quite delicious, decadent almost, but I suppose that’s to be expected when You-Know-Who is in the kitchen working up recipes for the mortals. Everything on the menu had names like “Evil Diva” (Mom ordered that, of course), and “Evil Genius” (yours truly). But our favorite name was the vegan dish known as a “Vicious Hippie”.

Driving from Banff to Jasper means driving the Icefields Parkway. This is, of course, an incredibly frightening thing to do while towing a five-ton trailer with a two-ton vehicle. But it is also exhilarating. When you visit the American Rockies, they are absolutely spectacular. But the Canadian Rockies are possibly even more spectacular in appearance and they go on forever. Every time you come around a bend a new line of ridges or mountains presents itself for your amazement. And yet there are some parts that are so straight that even the driver is able to enjoy it.

I’m sure we did something fantastically exciting on July 17, but for the life of me, I can’t remember what it was. I think I went on a bike ride and we probably hiked someplace and then I think there was some shopping or something.

July 16 was a great festive day for us in Banff… we hiked Johnston Canyon, and it doesn’t have a trail so much as a 1.5-mile catwalk above the river. Good fun with Izzie. But the views of the river and waterfalls were extraordinary. After our hike we drove to Lake Louise, a spectacular place with a resort built on it. I read somewhere last week that sunrise at Lake Louise has been called one of the ten wonders of the natural world. It was pretty amazing, packed with tourists, at four in the afternoon. On our way out of town, sitting in traffic, right on the main drag, a grizzly bear crawled up the embankment ten feet from our car. It was an amazing sight (to see while in a car), and all of the other travelers there were amazed and getting out cameras. That is until some jackass didn’t like sitting there for six whole seconds watching some stupid bear while his meatloaf got cold, honked his horn, and scared it off before anybody could really appreciate it or get much of a decent shot.

That evening was a real highlight, as Mom stayed with Kieran and Izzie while everybody else enjoyed our nearly-annual tradition of watching the new Harry Potter movie. The best part was (kids, stop reading here and leave the room until a grown-up says you can come back) when they’re all at the pompous professor’s little gathering for his favorite pet students, and there’s this really gross guy, and Harry somehow ends of holding this platter of the absolutely worst-tasting hors-d’oevres, and of course this guy takes one, eats it, wretches, and says “What is that???” Harry’s unexpected deadpan response? “Dragon Balls.” So Liz and I, being the immature cretins we are, simultaneously issue forth two of those side-splitting, milk-through-the-nose, raspberries-with-the-lips, 100 decibel guffaws. And everybody else, ever single freaking person in the entire freaking theater, was absolutely silent. Awk-ward.

Coolest thing we saw in Banff (according to me, other opinions may vary) was a double rainbow that went deep into the valley below us. It seemed to go on forever, and we could actually see the end of it down in the trees, and it had absolutely the most brilliant colors we’ve ever seen In Rainbows. I’ll put that picture right here for your cute little eyeballs.



Less than 24 hours after crossing into Canada, Liz flew Grandma home and then returned to us. Three border crossings in less than 48 hours. While I went and picked Liz up at the airport, Mom and Dad took the young’ns to the Calgary Zoo, where they saw The Fattest Prairie Dogs On Earth. Liz would like to place an addendum here, detailing her adventures in travel while escorting Grandma home:

I don’t much care for flying. Neither does Grandma. We tried to be troopers
though at times it was not easy. Customs went fine for grandma and I, although
watching the security officer use a wand to assure that grandma was not a threat
to national security could only be described as ludicrous. Our flight was 30
minutes late landing – it was a mad rush to make our connection three terminals
away. Luckily, the gate was the closest to the bridge between terminals and left
us time to grab iced coffee and scones for 2. Darlene picked us up in Rochester
at the airport.

Hugs all around and then off for a midnight Friendly’s
feeding with Sarah. Sarah dropped me back off at the airport, and a lovely
middle of the night conversation was had with Omeri – I was assured it was the
perfect time to have called. I spent the rest of the evening mostly creeped out
by the escalator noises and reading books to stay awake. Much sleep deprived, I
fell soundly asleep on the floor of the terminal in St. Paul. I woke up just as
the flight was called for loading to Calgary.

When we arrived I was a
little nervous about my chances at Customs. The fact that I had crossed the
border three times in three days was, I admit, a little strange. It did not help
that the customs agent above Glacier National Park not stamping my passport to
prove that I had gained permission to enter Canada and that my family had come
with us added some question marks to my story. I was selected for “additional
screening”.

It is times like that I thank my guardian angels for sending
me an avid RVer for a Customs agent who has family up in Jasper. He was kind and
talkative while checking out the details of my story. I made it. Isabella ran up
and said, “I knew you could do it”. It’s funny – there were times I thought I
wasn’t going to make it. In a 24-hour period, I had three hours of sleep. Not a
bad price to pay for Grandma to come along! (Again, major props to Jessica for
her competence with sleep deprivation with the twins)

It’s probably going to be a few days before we post again. It’s so incredibly remote out here it’s like we’re in 2003 or something. If it were any more rustic or primitive, we’d probably have to turn the coffeemaker on by hand, instead of programming the time we’d like our morning joe. We can’t even follow the stock market on-line. Yup, sure is bad being out here away from the daily news cycle.

So until then, stay safe, keep out of trouble, keep your campsite clean, and tell somebody at home you love ‘em.

Photos:

A blast from the past...

Liz is currently on a 24-hour round trip to Rochester (Yo! Roc City in the hizzouse!!! Straight up gangsta!) so we're here in a campground outside of Calgary waiting for her return. There is so much to do here... outside. Unfortunately, it's been 50 degrees and raining nonstop for 33 hours since we arrived. So today, I did $30 worth of laundry, and got an oil change. Here then, for your reading enjoyment, is one of my favorites from the last trip to Glacier, Gabe's first backcountry overnight, about what bears really do do (I said "do do") in the woods:



From Gabe: At 3 o'clock, mommy dropped daddy and I off to go backcountry camping in the wild. We saw tons of flowers, but no animals. Going out to our campsite at Atlantic Creek daddy slipped on a rock and fell in to a creek. What made it funny was that he was telling me to be careful. And he said, "you know Gabe, sometimes rocks move." followed by a big SPLASH. I think we crossed the water about 20 times, sometimes with bridges, sometimes with rocks. We met some other people, and they took our picture. When we got to the campsite we hung up our food on a tree so that animals couldn't get it. Then we set up camp. We ate Velveeta shells and cheese with hot dogs for supper. After we ate, we played crazy eights and played three rounds of it. We went to bed after 10 o'clock. (that would be midnight at home) When we woke up in the morning - after 6:30 - we packed up, had breakfast, and came back. I would definitely go backpacking again, but would like a shorter hike.

Daddy adds: Gabe was amazing on his first overnight in the backcountry. You would have thought he'd been doing this for years. For me the most exciting part was this... we left camp on our return trip at 7:00 am. If you've ever done this sort of thing, you know that one of the things they tell you is that bears are more active in the early morning. We were just about at the halfway point—read that as "two miles from any other human being"—going through deep forest; with the sun low in the sky, the forest was either pitch black or, with a break in the trees, blindingly bright. We couldn't see anything except for the trail... nothing to the sides. Suddenly, Gabe says, "Eww, Daddy! Did you fart?" Um, no. "It smells like poop right here." It sure did. This poop (as budding naturalists we're really supposed to say scat) had been deposited feet from us not more than a few minutes earlier. I was a bit freaked out by this. In bear country, you're supposed to sing to let the bears know that you are there so you don't surprise them, but we had stopped singing, clapping and making noise a few minutes earlier. So I ask Gabe to start singing again. What song does he choose? The church hymn Shepherd Me O Lord, a setting of the 23rd psalm (for you pagans out there, it's sometimes thought of as the prayer one uses at the time of one's passing). Gabe and I never discussed this on the rest of our hike. I'm pretty sure he still thinks I farted in the woods.


And just in case that's not a close enough grizzly encounter, here's from exactly one year ago in the Grand Tetons... but bears weren't the scariest creatures there...


July 14: Yesterday (Monday) was our greatest adventure so far! We left our campground on foot at about noon, and began the five-mile hike out to Hermitage Point, a peninsula that juts out into Jackson Lake across from the Teton Range. When we arrived, Mark, Alex, Jack, Gabe, and Kieran set up camp for an overnight stay, while Jerry, Kathy, Lisa, Liz, and Izzie (on Liz's back the entire way!) continued the loop and completed a 10-mile hike.

Our backcountry camp was loads of fun... Gabe and Kieran cooled off in an underpants swim in the lake as soon as we arrived, and Alex and Jack started fishing for our dinner. Unfortunately, after much fun swimming and splashing in the lake, we discovered that the fish weren't biting, Kieran almost got hypothermic, and Gabe discovered that there was a "worm" attached to his body that wouldn't let go. Ewwwww...leeches! So I did a full crack check of the young boys, but we were all clear.

We had, of course, brought plenty of food in case we didn't catch fish, so we enjoyed a great dinner of hot dogs and mac and cheese. After that, we finished setting up camp, and wondered what to do, as it was only about 6:00. It was at the time that the western sun started moving just slightly downward, and They arrived. The swarms. By the millions. Have you ever seen footage from Alaska or other remote location and the sky is darkened by flies? It was like that, except mosquitoes. So the rest of the evening was spent in tents playing cards, reading books, and trying to stay cool. Be sure to check out the mosquito bite gallery below.
Despite the fact that the temperature was still in the 80's when the sun went down at around 9:30, it got down into the 30's by the middle of the night. I was in my "two-man" ultra-light tent with Kieran, who was stirring constantly in our little spoon nest, so I was sleeping quite lightly. It was at 3:30 that I was awakened by the wind rustling the tree right next to our tent. But after a few seconds, I realized that it wasn't wind rustling the tree, but breathing and rubbing against the tree. This was soon followed by the sound of heavy, slow steps moving through our campsite. Apparently, Jack was also woken up in the other tent, and he was nearly as close to soiling himself as I was. No, neither of us actually mustered up the courage to look out. When we got up in the morning, we found several tracks in camp, with circular points out in front of the print - the defining clawprint of a bear. We spoke to the backcountry ranger when we got back. It is believed that the bear is a rather famous three-year-old male grizzly (Ursus arctos horribilis). Two years ago, when he was just a cub, his mother, bear #399, chased down an elk and killed it near the Jackson Lake Lodge. She was feeding her three cubs from the carcass, when an unsuspecting visitor/hiker walked out of the lodge and in between the mother and her cubs and their dinner. He survived, but received more than 200 stitches from the mauling. The man who was mauled, rather than demanding her extermination, begged for the life of the bear, saying that she was acting as a bear and a mother are supposed to act. Since then, the story of bear #399 and her cubs has been followed in the local papers and even books, and has brought much-due attention to the needs of wild bears and their interactions with humans in GTNP. So it turns out we were a part of bear history, and didn't even need stitches. Just a change of shorts.

But I digress... We got up in the morning and, since the temperature was only the 40's, were glad to shiver in trade for mosquitoes. Unfortunately, the little devils soon realized we were there and exposed, and we were treated to swarms and cold. We hike the five-miles back, had some ice cream, and were glad to be home! I don't want to sound like it was entirely a negative experience... we had a great time, saw amazing views, took some fantastic pictures, just HATE mosquitoes.

See you next time, from beautiful Banff National Park in the Canadian Rockies.

Wet in the Wilds

Okay, it's not that wild.

This morning we left the beauty of Glacier National Park behind us. A thunderstorm started as we were packing up, leading to a good thorough soaking, and the storms continued right up through our arrival in Calgary. Setting up camp here led to an even more impressive soaking. It's all good though, got to try out the new rain jacket and see if it actually works.

It does, but that sort of made it obvious how wet the rest of me was.

It's great to be oot here in Canada, to see what the great city of Calgary is all ahboot.

It really has been pouring nonstop... when we stopped to fill up on petrol, I had to keep one foot on the pump island and the other on my tire as there was an 8-inch river flowing through.

We had PKF for dinner tonight. Poulet Kentucky Frit.

We don't actually have anything to do here, 'cause it's pouring rain. Although this is the first RV park we've ever stayed at with a fantastic on-site liquor store.

And some of our children are on day 19 of a nonstop temper tantrum. Need to find some sort of Zen self-help book to get the rage under control. Um, I mean mine.

Tomorrow morning Grandma is flying back to Rochester; Liz is accompanying her and then flying back to Calgary. We wish them the best of luck!

We also wish good luck to Ms. Carroll and company from St. Louis on their trip to Kenya! Liz says take lots of pictures and bring home some audio.

This campground has the best WiFi connection we've had the whole trip, but I've got nuthin to right about.

Wild Animals and Death-Defying Danger!

We sure have had a couple of exciting days here on the east side of Glacier! We’re staying in St. Mary, with our campsite on a ridge that overlooks both St. Mary and Lower St. Mary Lakes. We’re a quarter-mile from the park entrance. (This pic to the left is the view out of the windshield of Mom and Dad's RV.)

July 10: Yesterday we moved camp and arrived on the east side around 1:30, and by 3:00, we were already out on the trail again. Liz was kind enough to stay at the campers with Kieran and Izzie while they napped (a decision she would come to regret), and Jerry, Kathy, Alex, Gabe and I headed into the park. We left from Sun Point at St. Mary’s Lake and departed on what Mom told us was a 3-mile hike. But she forgot to mention it was three miles each way!

The hike was a terrific adventure full of drama, excitement, wild animals, religious cults, and staggering views. There were three main waterfalls on the trail, Bering Falls, St. Mary Falls, and Virginia Falls, and all along the way were rapids, cascades, and smaller falls. We did this hike two years ago, but stopped at the upper cascades. Yesterday we pushed on and were rewarded with the arrival at Virginia Falls, a 100-foot tall waterfall set in a round amphitheatre of rock.

We spent much of the time leapfrogging with a group of about 30 college-age hikers, all looking normal, talking normal, being normal, but all fifteen of the women were on this challenging hike in full-length skirts. Hmmmmmm…

We also ran into a guy on our return to the trailhead (about 6:15 pm by this point) who was looking for a backcountry campsite that was miles away, all by himself, in grizzly country, who had absolutely no idea where he was despite the fact that he was holding a map and we were on perhaps the most clearly defined trail in America. Now close your eyes and picture this… this is a big guy… real big… like six-foot-something, lots of muscles, broad shoulders. Plus he adds on an enormous pack, and he looks also six feet wide… but then below the waist, besides the hiking boots, all he has on is UnderArmour spandex undershorts. And the view was, well…. ewwwwwwwwwwww. So then Dad whips (be sure to pronounce the H first, as in “Cool h-wip”) out his awesome new $500 superduperawesomewickedthrashinboominsickphatnasty Garmin GPS, and can’t actually figure out how to get it to just tell us where we freaking are. Wahhh-wahhh…

We did, in addition to the amazing views of the falls, forest, and river, see the most beautiful and enormous buck.

And then, on the way home, we had the wildlife moment of our lives. We spotted a black bear… a HeeeyuuuuuuuuuJah male black bear the size of a grizzly, about 100 yards from the road. We watched this bear for about ten minutes, taking many pictures, videos, and looking through binoculars. Then, suddenly, there was movement to the right…. And out came a large canine creature… we have checked this photo against our guidebooks and consulted a number of Rangers, but have not yet determined if it is an extremely large coyote or one of Glacier’s nearly unseen grey wolves. But what we do have is a set of unique pictures not only of an enormous black bear, but of a second predator alongside it.

p.s. Note to Joe & Maureen: While we were away Liz cracked open the summer kits, and the kids went nuts, especially so far for the jumbo bubble wands!

(July 11 follows the slide show!)

July 11: We actually got on the road early today, taking only 1hr40min for our departure instead of the usual 2 hours! We drove up to Logan Pass, and hiked exactly one mile of the Highline Trail, along a section known as The Garden Wall. This trail provides a unique experience for those hiking with children in Glacier, as just to your left are the most spectacular views you will find anywhere in the park, as well as your certain, untimely, and scream-filled death. The Garden Wall is a remarkable place… this cliff (next to you) is what is known as a weeping wall, and water continuously flows from the melting snow above. This causes the cracks and slopes in the wall to fill with the most remarkable plant life you will find anywhere. Unfortunately, we found that the level of nervous attention we were having to pay to the children was causing both them and us to not have as good of a time as we could have had. So, after exactly one mile (which we knew because last night Dad learned how to work the GPS!) we turned back and returned to the trailhead.

We stopped for a brief snack and rest, and then continued up in the other direction from Logan Pass toward Hidden Lake. Snow still covered much of the trail, and we all had a great time throwing snowballs and slipsliding away. Izzie especially enjoyed throwing snowballs at people we didn’t know.

We had dinner and pie at the Park Café which is located between us and the park entrance at the end of Going-to-the-Sun Road. The Park Café is well-known in these here parts… there’s actually a terrific magazine ad I saw a couple of months ago for tourism in Montana, but it’s actually about coming to Glacier and seeing everything and hiking everywhere… but the whole ad is actually about the pie at the Park Café! The title is something like “It’s all about the pie.” And their entire message is: if you drive 2500 miles to Montana, and you go all the way to Glacier, and you hike a gazillion miles, and you fight off bears, lions, and rattlesnakes, then you’ve earned a piece of this pie. And the state actually put this ad together and the café had nothing to do with it. Pie’s pretty good, though.

After dinner we drove back to Logan Pass, this time with Alex and Grandma. This means that Grandma got to ride on Going-to-the-Sun Road for the very first time. If you’re not familiar with it, Going-to-the-Sun Road is often referred to as America’s most beautiful road. It’s also one of the scariest if you’ve never been on it. It’s an interesting experience taking Grandma on a cliff-side drive, which we’ve actually done a few times now. She makes these different types of noises as we drive, alternating between a high giggle and a low, painful moan. But I digress… up at Logan Pass, we saw even more unexpected wildlife. First, most surprisingly, was a 22-or-so-year-old female changing out of her itty-bitty, well-fitting, bright pink, possibly sequined bikini. Yes, in a parking lot. On a mountain pass. When it was 55 degrees out. Second most surprising was that there a bighorn ram standing not 10 feet behind her, apparently checking this out, just bemused and shocked as the rest of us.

We took Grandma and the gang on the loop around the visitors center, played in the snow a bit more, and saw four bighorn rams. All appeared to be brothers, and they enjoyed messing with each other quite a bit. Lucky for us, that means we got them see them doing lots of headbutting. Also, lucky for us, they kept their somewhat aggressive play limited to their own species.