An Empty Desert Lake

The valley was green and brown, with signs proclaiming drought as we drove through California's Central Valley. Over the grapevine with the engine whining we crossed into Southern California where a controversy over water rights has raged for decades. As we turned east, chasing the distant lights of Las Vegas, pastel pink and periwinkle mountains rose out of the desert foreshadowing the beauty we were to find at Lake Mead.

We'd been warned not to visit Lake Mead this year. Water levels are at an all-time low, the lowest since the Hoover Dam was constructed and Lake Mead was formed by flooding the valley now hidden in its shifting waters. But we persisted, eager to get our sailing Hobie Cat kayak onto water. We envisioned sailing into tight canyons and seeing the southwest rock layers up close and personal.

Our boat, the Queen Bee, followed that yellow line from Temple Bar past The Temple, a large rock outcropping, through the somewhat narrow Virgin Canyon before coming to rest at a lovely sandbar just outside Hualapai Bay.

What we found was a massive lake, rimmed with colorful rocks showing the many levels the lake has rested at and then receded from over the years. The water lines resemble rings on a dirty bathtub, with invasive zebra mussel colonies hanging on for dear life twenty and more feet above the lake's surface. The tight twisty fingers we looked forward to floating in were dried up and instead looked like canyons rising out of the lake.

Enjoying the mesas and pretty clouds on a sunny day from the comfort of our boat.

In our three days on the lake, we saw just three other boaters, all in power boats speeding along in a hurry to get somewhere, I don't know where. One boat was piloted by a gentleman we'd met at Temple Bar when we were simultaneously launching our watercraft. He'd motored out into the lake to find us and make sure we were okay. We assured him we'd brought plenty of provisions and were self-sufficient, perhaps even better equipped than those back in the tiny outpost we'd left.

Our two nights of backcountry kayak-camping were superb. After sailing We set our camp up on a sheltered beach with lovely 360-degree views. Between our 4-man tent, our outdoor rug, our camp chairs and table set, our sun shelter and our doorstep swimming beach, it was like a private palace in the desert.

After sweeping aside some rocks and smoothing out the sand, we had a lovely foundation for our indoor/outdoor, sun-shaded, pop-up, backcountry cabin.

Our only visitors, apart from the concerned stranger, was a curious duck that swam by each evening. The first night as I lay comfy in our tent reading a novel, I heard an animal noise in the distance. It sounded like a howling coyote at first and I was very excited. Then the noise shifted to that of a donkey (wild burros are common at Lake Mead), before eventually revealing it's true source--a couple of lost cows calling out in anguish.

The sunset from our campsite was peaceful and placid, like we were the only people on the planet.

Our final sail started off with light winds and ended with gusts and water waves so strong that my entire cockpit filled up with water. The boat became a floating bathtub and I opted to sit on the trampolines and laugh like a hyena while the cold water pelted me and Josh sailed us back to dry land. It was an epic ending to our incredible adventure on Lake Mead.

 

Returning to Childhood Haunts

My hubby spent several of his formative years living in southern Humboldt County amidst the redwood trees and fog. So as we planned our travel route from the Pacific Northwest to Southern Utah, it came as no surprise that he wanted to take the coastal route and revisit some of his favorite childhood haunts. First up was Prairie Creek and Fern Canyon, which I blogged about already. These two destinations were places he'd taken me early in our romance and I enjoyed reliving those old times with him. Plus, seeing elk up close always makes me smile.

Our second day on the Northern California coast found us in places both familiar and new to me, as we continued along the pathway to Josh's childhood. Driving south on Highway 101, we hugged tight to the coastline and enjoyed sweeping views of rocky shores. Our first stop was at Patrick's Point State Park to take in the epic coastline and so I could pee while surrounded by wildflowers. (You know you would too if given the option.)

Pretty pink heart flowers spring to life on this Manzanita bush.

At Avenue of the Giants, we left the highway and meandered between the big trees and tiny towns enveloped within Humboldt Redwood State Park. A short hike in Founders Grove filled us with awe and harkened us back to both our childhoods spent measuring our smallness against the massive tree trunks. I recalled a grade school trip where it took all 28 of us kids holding hands outstretched to fully hug a redwood tree. And Josh and I laughed as we drove by scenes we'd photographed more than a decade ago on our first coastal California roadtrip together.

Josh's 6'3" stature is nothing compared to these old redwoods, which were much too tall to get all in the photo. You'll have to imagine them reaching three times as high into the blue sky.

The hollow in this tree is big enough to build a fort inside! Too bad that's against the rules here.

And then we pushed onwards to Redway, a small town where Josh's mom once worked in a bead shop. We drove down the narrow streets trying to identify the house he once lived in, before heading west on a winding road. The road ends at the bluffs of Shelter Cove, where we intended to camp in a public campground overlooking the shoreline that Josh had remembered fondly from his youth. To our disappointment, that campground had disappeared in the 25 years since he was last in Shelter Cove and so we made do with a grassy lawn set away from the bluff. (It was the only tenting option in town and we were much too weary to drive back inland in search of something else, although we wavered for a few minutes.)

Our campsite near one of the only trees in the park. It wasn't private but it was available and that was good enough for one night.

Luckily we came prepared with a nice bottle of sparkling rose from our favorite winery in Oregon's Applegate Valley. And so as afternoon turned to evening I joined Josh in his brown hiking pants and black soft shell jacket traversing the dark rocks that form tide pools just below the crest of Shelter Cove. Behind us yellow mustard flowers and purple prickly thistles climbed the exposed sandy hillside. And beneath my feet, gray polished pebbles filled my slip-on shoes as the sun warmed my shoulders. We listened to the waves crash and tumble against the rocks and a lone gull screeching on the breeze. The salty sea air filled my nose, displacing the earthy scent of redwood forest we'd left behind that morning. The world felt complete as I sipped my wine while watching a momma seal and her young pup play in the rollicking waters.

Seals and seal pups playing in the cold Pacific Ocean. This shot is from the next day at Seal Rock, just a short drive from our campsite, still in Shelter Cove.

Then, hand in hand, Josh and I climbed back up the cliff and returned to our campsite to make dinner and watch the fog roll in, hiding any view of the ocean and wrapping us in its chilly embrace.

Enjoying some Oregon wine from my sippy cup at the retired Cape Mendocino Lighthouse which now stands on the edge of Shelter Cove. I felt a little ironic drinking wine here as the lighthouse door sported a hand-lettered sign announcing Thursday AA meetings upstairs.

 

Hello from the Road

After a year of traveling abroad (off-and-mostly-on), we are back in the United States exploring our backyard and beyond. A recap of the first month:

• On March 26, we arrived in Seattle at midnight and spent the next 19 days catching up with old friends; visiting our doctors, dentists and physical therapists; and enjoying all that Seattle has to offer in the springtime.
• By Tax Day (April 15 for you international readers), we were headed south to see Josh's family in Oregon and then his brother and our nieces and nephew in Redding, California.
• 4/20 brought us back north to the Applegate Valley in Southern Oregon for some paragliding and welcome conversations with our pals there. It was like returning home after a year away and I was so thankful to reconnect with the community and landscape that helped nurse me back to health after my accident last year.
• The following Sunday, April 26, we said farewell to Oregon's wine country and drove the winding road past deer and redwood trees into coastal California. In my mind, our roadtrip began there, in Prairie Creek, California--having already driven more than 900 miles from our home base in Seattle, Washington.

One of several vistas we ogled on the drive along California's wild north coast. These yellow mustard flowers always remind me of my dad who, regardless of the times I picked bouquets for him, is allergic to them.

Prairie Creek

We arrived in the mid-afternoon on a sunny spring day. The golden grasses glowed in the fields, the redwood trees towered in the distance and we were in search of a campsite with a beach view and a flat place to pitch our tent. We settled for a slightly sloping sandy tent site protected on three sides by tall green bushes with a weather-beaten and camper-engraved picnic table just a short jaunt from the ocean. It was divine.

Our plush camping palace complete with plastic outdoor rug and plenty of space for us and our crap inside.

While I drew, Josh walked on the beach. Then together we loaded up into our overloaded Subaru and drove the couple miles to the start of the Fern Canyon trail.

We had to ford a couple streams to get out to the trailhead. Luckily, we didn't need to unpack our boat from the roof to make it.

More than a decade ago, Josh took me to Prairie Creek and Fern Canyon on a camping trip with his high school besties. That same trip, his friend Jonny declared us a perfect couple when I emerged from our tent wearing a dorky headlamp which matched the one Josh sported. Little did Jonny know that thousands of other practical outdoorsmen rely on headlamps, and little did we know that Jonny's declaration would be proven out over the following many years. But I digress.

The hike up Fern Canyon at the end of April this year was beautiful. The ferns flanked the hillsides--albeit not as densely as in pre-drought days--and the winding canyon and its creek provided amble opportunities for Josh to show off his strength as he piggybacked me over the wettest stretches. You see, although my feet are about 75% back to normal, I still need to wear sneakers when I hike, while Josh can skip upcreek in his trusty Chaco sandals.

My matching top and sneakers was a happy accident; the smile plastered on my face is the result of our adventurous life.

On our return to the car, we met an unperturbed juvenile elk peacefully grazing alongside the trail. For more than ten minutes we watched him chew green grass, pose for photos, and generally do his elk-thing while wild children and loud adults hiked past just feet away. I was amazed that a 800+ lb creature calmly devoured his vegetarian dinner while I gazed on. This was one of the highlights of my day and probably even of the week. What can I say? I love wildlife.

So I drew the elk and all his velvet-horned glory.

Back at camp that night we feasted on sausage and vegetables grilled in a single pan and eaten straight from it to avoid any unnecessary washing up. The evening ended with stars overhead and comfy sleeping bags beneath us. Our Western States road trip was off to a good start.

 

 

Exploring Glacier with Limits

For years, hubby and I have wanted to visit Glacier National Park. Twice we even attempted to visit. Once we diverted due to thunderstorms and bad weather. The second time a raging fire was sweeping through the park making the air hardly breathable. So when we thrice again planned our visit Glacier we were determined to make it stick. And we succeeded!

However, our previous plans had always imagined us backpacking through the wilderness and taking in Glacier's stunning scenery in peaceful solitude far from the masses of tourists and the crying of small children. But, as you already know if you've been reading this blog, that vision was not to be realized -- at least not this time around.

Instead, we opted to invite our niece (age 6) and nephew (age 8) along for some quality Auntie/Uncle time in the good ole out-of-doors. With me recovering from two broken feet, having two smallish kids along expunged my guilt over not being able to hike far or fast. That is, the kids provided a handy limiting factor for distance and speed.... Although, truth be told, sometimes I held up the crew.

So, in anticipation that you too may be interested in exploring Glacier at a somewhat less challenging pace, I'm sharing here our itinerary in hopes that it might inspire others to take their kids (or someone else's kids--with proper permission of course!) to visit the majestic landscape that is Glacier National Park.

Our basic trip outline, in map form above and list form below. Your welcome :)

Day 1: Arrive in Glacier National Park via West Glacier!
Camp at Fish Creek (last spot available!)
Swim in and Sail on Lake McDonald

Day 2: Hike to Avalanche Lake
Drive Going-to-the-Sun Road to Logan Pass
Build snowman and play in snow at Logan Pass
Play in hammocks and camp at Avalanche Creek

Day 3: Drive Going-to-the-Sun Road to St. Mary Lake
View Jackson Glacier from the road
Camp at Rising Sun
Sail on St. Mary Lake

Day 4: Hike to St. Mary & Virginia Falls
Attend Ranger-led programs for kids and laugh
Camp again at Rising Sun

Day 5: Drive to Many Glacier and check out lodge
Sail on Sherbourne Lake
View wildlife through spotting scope
Camp at Many Glacier

Day 6: Hike to Redrock Falls
Play in Redrock Lake
Drive to and ogle Two Medicine Lake
Exit via East Glacier and call it a successful adventure!

 

If you haven't been to Glacier yet, I encourage you to give it a go! And in case you suck at making reservations like we do, no need to stress.... most of the campgrounds are first-come anyway.

 

Raw beauty meets wild beasts

View from the car (sailing kayak on roof) as we prepare to pass the weeping wall on the Going-to-the-Sun Road. Epic beauty. Super loud kids.

Driving that winding road I couldn't help but marvel at the raw beauty that lay before me. Vista after breathtaking vista. A new sight more enchanting than the last around every bend. Glacier National Park--stunning in its landscapes, even as its peacefulness was drowned out by the loud singing of two cute, cuddly wild beasts--my niece and nephew.

It has been more than a month (sorry for the delay) since we left the wonderland that is Glacier National Park, taking our wild beasts with us. And yet, the vistas that we viewed, the waters that we walked in and the skies that shined above us are still stirring my soul. If you haven't experience Glacier, you should go. And if you, like us, don't have any kids of your own, borrow some and bring them along... as there is nothing quite like exploring a new and magical world with children.

Swimming and playing in Lake McDonald.

Sailing on Lake McDonald

Annabelle on Avalanche Lake

The raging rapids of Avalanche Creek; a perfect place to ice my cranky healing feet!

Glorious views along the Going-to-the-Sun Road.

So pretty!

Making snow friends at Logan Pass.

Mountain goats! Hooray!

St. Mary Lake with strange clouds. Any know what those are?

Quiet (at last!) contemplation at St. Mary Falls.

On the way back from St. Mary Falls.

Hiking along the other side of St. Mary Lake.

St. Mary Lake showing its pebble floor.

Post-fire purple mountain.

Mountains across the wetland near St. Mary Lake.

Sailing on Sherbourne Lake.

So many wildflowers! So many reasons to take a break from hiking :)

More wildflowers!

Road tripping with kids*

*First, I must say, these kids are not ours, per se. They are belong to Josh's brother and his lovely wife and they normally live far away from us in Northern California. But for this adventure we invited them along. And luckily for us, our niece and nephew jumped (literally) at the opportunity to join us. (Oh, and their parents say yes too.)

Today is day 2 of our road trip adventure with our niece (6) and nephew (8). And so far, so good.

Day One was a lot of driving. 553 miles to be exact (plus additional miles getting gas, stopping at parks and eating dinner). The highlights for me were listening to the kids giggling in the backseat, singing along to Disney movies and asking me to pretend I was boarding a real train at the mining history park in Wallace, Idaho. We left Grandma's house near Albany, OR around 10am and rolled into the Super 8 in Saint Regis, MT around 12.5 hrs later.

Day Two (today) included a few more hours of driving, followed by setting up camp, swimming, sailing our boat and enjoying a sunny beautiful day on Lake McDonald in Glacier National Park. My highlights were inspecting Annabelle's favorite rocks found on the beach, playing in our sailing kayak on a pristine lake with majestic mountains all around and reminding myself that my hubby and I make a good team -- whether it's our navigation/driving division of labor, our willingness to let the other take the lead with the kids, or our ability to look lovingly at each other as the kids claim they will never spot the hay bale on their bingo card as we approach a dozen fields of hay along the highway.

Road tripping with kids, especially when they aren't your kids but rather "loaner kids" as I call them when no one is looking, can help you see the world anew. For example,

• A young male deer peacefully entering your campsite during dinner can be "scary" to one kid, while pleasant to another.
• It is possible to imagine you are being attacked by a great white shark while sailing in an inland lake. And yelling for help during this imaginary attack is perfectly acceptable.
• Longhorn cows are funny. "Why are their horns so big?!"
• Juice boxes are awesome and baby Swiss cheese-it's can be your favorite type even if you've never had them before.
• Cheap hotels are fancy, especially if they give you free cereal and yogurt in the morning and have beds with sheets and rooms with showers. "This room has everything!"
• Mountains that still have snow on them, or even more wild--HAVE SNOW YEAR ROUND--are totally wacky.
• 1.5hr drive = one Disney movie, not including the bonus features which kids actually watch. So that's about 2 hrs of driving per movie.
• Homemade BINGO is a surprising hit, especially when the kids get to pick some of the things to be in the bingo card. Like trees. And power lines. Also, you get to see how much of a stickler your hubby is when he insists that a big rock only counts if it is in a field and a lake is only a lake if it is bigger than a football field.

Alright, the kids are back so time for me to go.