Book Club

Forest Bathing

I laid on my back and let the rain drops hit my face. I watched tiny orbs of mist swirl in the air above and gather on leaves until gravity took over and they fell through the sky and ran down my face like tears. Tiny droplets clung to my eyelashes in defiance, they weren’t ready to join the others in their inevitable journey to the ground. I didn’t wipe them away. They created a lens through which my eyes followed the lines of branches of the hardwoods through the green and yellow leaves searching for patterns and fractals and recognition among them, reminding me of the forests I explored as a child.

It was a cool November day and I wasn’t alone there lying in that forest, my book club friends were there too. We were spending the weekend at Laura’s family’s property on Vashon Island, a lovely site with a beach, whimsical cabins hidden away, and an impressive grove of ancient big leaf maples. It was the perfect setting for a day of forest bathing.

We arrived to Vashon Island a day earlier and explored the little town of Vashon. We had a delicious brunch at The Hardware Store, a (you guessed it) hardware store turned restaurant, and couldn’t help but browse the Vashon Bookshop and the Herban Bloom flower shop. But as charming as the town was, we were ready to get our nature fix and headed to the property.

We all know how good being in nature can make us feel. We have known it for millennia. The sounds of the forest, the scent of the trees, the sunlight playing through the leaves, the fresh, clean air – these things give us a sense of comfort. They ease our stress and worry, help us to relax and to think more clearly. Being in nature can restore our mood, give us back our energy and vitality, refresh and rejuvenate us.“

Dr. Qing Li, Forest Bathing

A short trail led us down to the beach were we spent the rest of the evening exploring. We found deer bones in the creek draining to the shore and sand dollars, limpets, tiny snails, and seaweed. We hovered near to each other in silent awe as we watched one of the most beautiful sunsets. The water lapped on the shore and I felt a sense of calm settle in.

We ambled up in a light sprinkle to our little home for the night dubbed the “Pink Palace” due to the hue of its concrete construction. Laura indulged us with lentil soup for dinner along with homemade cider and mulled wine. We warmed by the wood stove while we shared stories and played games by candle light. We bunked up and read ourselves to sleep.

The next morning, after breakfast pastries from Snapdragon Bakery, we prepared for a day of forest bathing. It was raining so we took our time. Rebecca got out her watercolors and painted. Others read the book and I made a plan:

Listen: rain, breeze, water

Look: greens, fractals, patterns

Feel: bare feet, lay on the ground

Taste: fresh air, dirt

Smell: essential oils, dirt, plants

We left our cameras and phones behind and found an open spot in the nearby forest. I read a bit of the “How to Practice Shinrin-Yoku” chapter of the book to get us started. Then it was time for silence and exploration. There was no trail, no destination, no time line, just immersion in the moment and nature around us.

After laying on the ground with raindrops on my face, I got up to wander. I found slugs of many sizes, teeny tiny slugs that I’ve never noticed before, large ones resembling bananas, and medium sized ones with the most intricate patterns and “legs” that looked like delicate eyelashes. The more I looked, the more I found. Tiny mushrooms glissaded down a tree stump, licorice ferns emerged from the huge maples and skeletons of leaves were traced in lacy fractal patterns.

I wish we had better words to describe what we see, like the Japanese word komorebi – sunlight filtering through trees.

I pulled a licorice fern from the moss, wiped the dirt away from the roots and sniffed it. I bit into it just enough to find the taste of anise and loamy earth I was looking for. I picked some soaked sorrel, nibbled on them, and let the spice linger on my tongue while I walked barefoot through a blanket of wet leaves.

I walked along a small brook and listened to the water on its journey to the shore. I found a tree root crossing the water to a cedar tree. I climbed over and sat beneath the branches that were so big they almost touched the ground. I felt so cozy and comforted in this spot. I sniffed at the bark, searching for its essence, but only later got a whiff when doing a little sun salutation. Its like the smell is not of the tree itself, but rather of the tree and all of its surroundings here and now in just the right combination.

I sat for a while under the tree listening. The light rain like the Japanese word shito shito and kasa kasa, leaves rustling underfoot. I pondered a while about a question Dr. Li poses in the book, if there was one natural sound you could preserve forever, what would it be? I could have stayed there under that tree forever and pondered such things. But eventually the trance must be broken.

Laura called us over to the beach to watch a rainbow, yes a rainbow, across the water. We sipped hot tea and ate scones and chatted about what we observed and how we felt. We exchanged our little bottles of essential oils as if the whole experience could be bottled up which felt a little silly. I felt a lightness that lingered for many days and if I close my eyes and focus on each sense, I can grasp just a bit of that lightness again.

Shinrin-yoku is like a bridge. By opening our senses, it bridges the gap between us and the natural world.

Dr. Qing Li, Forest Bathing

Forest Bathing

by Dr. Qing Li

Forest bathing, or shinrin-yoku, was developed in Japan as a way to reduce anxiety, stress and blood pressure, strengthen the immune system, and improve cardiovascular function in the body. Dr. Qing Li is a doctor and chairman of the Japanese Society for forest medicine. He does a fantastic job of explaining the science as well as the steps to take to receive the benefits of the forest on the body. Forest bathing is an accessible way to connect with nature, even in the city or in the home and this book is essential to learn this important practice.

Non-Fiction // Published: 2018 // My Rating: 5 out of 5 stars

Buy on Amazon

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Book Ends

Read :: A beautiful poem by my friend Rebecca inspired by our outing

Watch :: Forest Bathing, A Simple Yet Powerful Nature Meditation

Try :: Take the POMS test before and after forest bathing to see how your mood is elevated

Go :: Best Places in the US to Try Forest Bathing

Book Club Archive

1 year ago: Mushroom Hunting (The Mushroom Hunters w/ Langdon Cook)

*This post contains affiliate links. However, I always encourage finding books at your local library or favorite indie book store.

Book Club

The Light Between Oceans

I’ve been wanting to visit a lighthouse with the book club for a while now, so in April we finally did it. We didn’t go to just any lighthouse, but particularly one on an island. Our book pick was The Light Between Oceans about a young couple who lives in a lighthouse on an island all to themselves. We ferried our way north to San Juan Island for a weekend of exploring, camping, and lighthouse visiting.

I brought my husband and daughter this time and Evie relished in the cold, salty wind of the Salish Sea on the deck of the ferry boat. She ran circles around the inside passenger area and made some new pint-sized friends. I was happy to greet some of the book club members and we got caught up as we soaked up the views.

Upon landing in Friday Harbor, we decided to head directly to the charming little Griffin Bay Bookstore. We could have spent all day in there browsing the books, but we tore ourselves away to visit the Farmers Market and get some grub. We packed up our food and books and headed out to English Camp for a picnic. It was a perfectly comfortable spring day and after our lunch we all unceremoniously lined up and laid down in the grass.

We lounged and chatted for a long while and then decided to head to the campground to get set up for the night. While we drove, we found an adorable alpaca farm and just had to stop. Evie loved the alpacas and we touched everything in the gift store with an “ahhh.” We met the rest of our group at the San Juan County Campground and lingered on the shoreline nearby after setting up camp. We made sweet potato tacos from the Feast by Firelight camp cookbook. They were SO GOOD. They were also super easy and this is definitely my new go-to camp recipe.

Rebecca brought her daughter who is seven years old. She shared her fuzzy slippers with Evie rendering the two girls inseparable. After dinner, we headed back down towards the shore for sunset. Evie painted watercolors with her new BFF and I brought out a special dessert surprise. It was an applesauce cake, an old favorite family recipe of mine, glazed and lit up with candles for my BFF, Laura’s, birthday. We sang to her and indulged in the cake while sipping wine and watching the gorgeous sunset.

Soon the darkness brought a chill to the air and we snuggled up with blankets around the campfire for our book chat. In the book, the lightkeeper and his wife find a washed up boat with a man and a baby inside. They discovered the man was dead, but the baby was still alive. After a recent miscarriage that was preceded by many before, the young woman decides to keep the baby as their own without telling anyone. Her husband, a law-abiding man, was deeply conflicted with the decision his wife made.

As you can imagine, there is little room for this story to end well. While the plot is heartbreaking, I really enjoyed the sense of living on a secluded island as a lightkeeper. San Juan Island is tiny, but it still holds the largest town of all the San Juans with enough to easily fill up our day with activities. It was hard to imagine being in their shoes, the only people for miles and miles.

For the first time he took in the scale of the view. Hundreds of feet above sea level, he was mesmerized by the drop to the ocean crashing against the cliffs directly below. The water sloshed like white paint, milky-thick, the foam occasionally scraped off long enough to reveal a deep blue undercoat. At the other end of the island, a row of immense boulders created a break against the surf and left the water inside it as calm as a bath. He had the impression he was hanging from the sky, not rising from the earth. Very slowly, he turned a full circle, taking in the nothingness of it all. It seemed his lungs could never be large enough to breathe in this much air, his eyes could never see this much space, nor could he hear the full extent of the rolling, roaring ocean. For the briefest moment, he had no edges.

M.L. Stedman, The Light Between Oceans

The next day we headed to Lime Kiln State Park to visit its lighthouse which dates back to 1919. A short loop trail takes you up to several old and deteriorating lime kilns from the 1920’s. This must have been a busy place back in the day. Evie picked up the green rocks and inspected them as we explored the kilns.

Evie walked all by herself most of the way with her new friend. When she tired and wanted me to hold her, fellow book club member Mala carefully chose a stick and gave it to her to use as a walking stick. Evie’s face lit up and she charged down the trail with her new stick. Mala’s wise motherly gesture was greatly appreciated. Evie even acquired a second stick that transformed her into a little hiking machine.

The trail traversed a spectacular forest with massive old growth madrona trees, the largest I’ve ever seen. The girls climbed on them and posed for pictures, happy as little clams. Soon we were at the end of the loop trail and near the lighthouse. It wasn’t open that day (tours run from mid-May to mid-September) but we poked around a bit.

We wandered along the shore and found a nice spot to share lunch. We lingered lazily and spotted a sea otter and a seal. Rebecca and I picked our way down the rocks to some tide pools with our girls. They loved bending over and getting their faces down close to the water. The longer we looked, the more life we found: anemones, urchins, hermit crabs, gooseneck mussels.

After much exploration we headed back to Friday Harbor to get our spots for the ferry boats. We met one last time for coffee (or tea), a bite, and one last little pop-in to the bookstore before making the long journey home.

The Light Between Oceans by M.L. Stedman

Book Ends

Book Club Archive

Outdoor Life

Hidden Lake Lookout

For my birthday weekend my husband and I packed up Evie and doggie Nali to go camping at Marble Creek Campground. We planned it so that I could go for a solo hike on my birthday to get to my goal of 50 peaks. I decided on Hidden Lake Peak as the grand finale. It’s arguably one of the most beautiful trails in the Cascades and I wanted something challenging. And for an added bonus, there’s a lookout at the top.

We snagged a river-front spot and set up camp. Evie helped me set up the tent (she did actually mostly help!) and we lazed around eating snacks. We brought an Evie-sized chair, but she mostly just wanted to sit it one of our grown-up chairs, sitting up and very proud of herself. One of her favorite things to say these days is “sit down.” We had a bit of a panic moment when we couldn’t find her binky. We only brought one and we knew that getting to sleep was going to be an issue if we didn’t find it asap. We searched for like two hours, scouring the cars and campsite but couldn’t find it. We decided it was just going to have to be the day she gives up the binky cold turkey.

We went for a walk and found a path leading down to Marble Creek. There were gorgeous sandy beaches and the water was cold and turquoise. We sat on the shore and threw rocks for Nali to chase in the water. We had to keep Evie from walking straight into the water. That girl has no fear. We played in the sand and collected rocks until it was dinner time and headed back to camp for a dinner of burgers.

I was very nervous about the missing binky as bedtime approched, but it turned out fine. Evie fussed and cried but eventually fell asleep and I was actually happy that it happened this way. It is much harder to resist giving into her when I have a choice, but this time I had nothing to give her. As I’m writing this, it’s been four days and last night was the first time since that fateful day that she went right to sleep without a peep. Yay! My husband and I distracted ourselves from her cries with a game. We’ve had Bananagrams for years and finally decided to get it out and try it. It’s basically a speed version of scrabble and got hooked.

The next morning my husband made breakfast and I geared up for the day’s climb to Hidden Lake Peak. I lingered for a while before convincing myself that it was time to go off on my own. I said my goodbyes and headed to the trailhead, just a few miles down the road. I noticed that the sky was white and wondered if it was fog or smoke from forest fires. As I started out on the trail, it was clear that it was smoke. The smoke affects the sunlight differently than fog. It filters the sunlight, where fog tends to fully block it. The sun appeared as an eerie orange orb and a fiery orange glow lit up the forest.

After a short and steep climb through the forest I popped out into an open meadow. Now the severity of the smoky haze was apparent. I could hardly see across to the peaks above the valley and looking down was a complete white-out. It was even worse than I thought. The flowers in the meadow made up for the lack of views and the filtered sun made for nice photos, but I was really hoping the smoke would go away.

The trail climbs, sometimes quite steeply, through an open avalanche chute covered in flowers. It was a spectacular display, one of the best I’ve seen in the Cascades. I stopped to catch my breath and took way too many photos. There were lots of small water crossings and I plunged a bandana in the cool water to wrap around the back of my neck. It helped. Eventually, I was above the gulley and the trail mellowed a bit through high alpine heather and granite. Although there were plenty of people on the trail, it was quiet. So quiet. I didn’t hear even a single bird call or pika squeak. With the lack of wildflowers up high, the white of the sky and the white and brown of the granite and trail, it felt like sensory deprivation.

But I continued on and soon the lookout was in view. The descriptions of the trail warned me that it would seem like there is no possible way to get up to the lookout. I already knew this yet I still gaped up at the mountain and wondered how the heck I was going to get up there. It seemed impossible. I was tired and the smoke was giving me a headache. I couldn’t see any of the spectacular views that were supposed to be had and now the trail was getting hard to follow. I emerged on a saddle above Hidden Lake and looked at it with disgust. I could barely make out the outline of the lake and the jagged peaks that surround it, my beloved North Cascade peaks, were obscured by thick smoke.

I thought of turning back, but then I reasoned that getting up to the lookout would brighten my spirits. I followed cairns that led me back and forth between a steep exposed trail and a scrambling route. I did my best to not look down and just go up. I saw that the lookout was much closer now but I still wondered how the heck I was going to get up there. It is vicariously perched on a pile of boulders. They didn’t bother to put a catwalk or even an entryway for that matter on the thing, due to the shear drop-offs on all sides. And when I reached the door it was closed. I could hear people inside, but didn’t want to bother them. I shuffled back down the rocks to the saddle, waited for my nerves to calm and then ate some food.

Instead of appreciating my alone time and reflecting on my 35 years and whatever, I really just wanted to get down the mountain. I was sad that I was expecting an epic hike and didn’t get it. I was sad about the smoky air and that the whole state (and British Columbia for that matter) seems to be on fire. This is not what it was like when we moved here over a decade ago and I’m worried that the smoky summers like this one and last year will become normal or worse.

But as I hiked down the smoke began to clear just a tiny bit. I could make out the green of the meadows and as the wildflowers came back into view, I realized just how beautiful it really was. I even noticed later that there was even some blue sky in my photos. After all these years, it is still an important reminder to find beauty everywhere, even if I have to work to seek it out.

Book Club

A Weekend in Paradise

The waterfall took my breath away. I was perched on a steep slope as close as I could get to Comet Falls. The air was full of spray, my face instantly soaked, and it was hard to breath. I leaned in, yelled AHHHH and then signaled for the others to come see. They leaned in too and I pointed and yelled, RAINBOW! When we stood in just the right spot a brilliant rainbow appeared at the bottom of the waterfall. We put our arms around each other’s shoulders and closed the circle.

This month our book club group took a weekend trip to Paradise, quite literally. We drove up the long road from Ashford to Paradise Inn in Mount Rainier National Park, following in the footsteps (or rather, snowshoe steps) of Floyd Schmoe and his wife Ruth. Floyd and Ruth spent a winter on their own in the inn back in the 1920’s. Floyd then became a guide and naturalist and the couple spent many summers in Paradise and even took their 3-year-old son around the Wonderland trail on horseback. Floyd wrote a memoir about his time at Paradise, our book of the month, A Year in Paradise.

No place on earth except in a few similar alpine settings can you find such gorgeous wild flower gardens as along the streams of Paradise Valley: white water singing songs, gray water ouzels building nests, and massed flowers nodding approval – a combination of sounds, sights, and odors that lacks only an Adam and an Eve to make of it a little Garden of Eden within the larger Paradise.

 

Our adventure weekend started at Comet Falls and Van Trump Park. We spotted a few avalanche lilies about halfway up the trail and swooned. We spent several minutes snapping photos and getting the best angles, only to find out later that the avalanche lilies were in full bloom all along the trail. I’ve never seen so many of the delicate white flowers on a single trail. They blanketed the forest floor, giving the trail a magical feel.

We climbed up and up in the heat of the day until we topped out and finally got a glimpse of Mt Rainier herself. We could see icicles hanging of the glaciers that must have been massive. As we ate lunch we heard the crash of avalanches and rocks in the distance. We reluctantly tore ourselves away from the view and headed back down to set up our campsite at Cougar Rock and meet up with some others in our group.

After settling in and making introductions over delicious snacks, we geared up for a sunset hike to Pinnacle Saddle. Floyd mentions climbing the peak in the book and how from its vantage point on the Tatoosh Range, you can see a perfect view of Paradise Valley. We climbed up, wondering how far we would get before hitting snow. The views of Mt Rainier are non-stop from the beginning and only get better with each foot of elevation. We crossed just a few spots of snow and were thrilled to make it all the way to Pinnacle Saddle.

 

In the evening when the sunset glow climbed quickly up the ice dome of the mountain and was reflected across Paradise Valley, the pearly gates stood wide-open and all our streets were really paved with gold.

 

We cheered each other on as we reached the flat saddle in the golden glow of sunset. In front of us were sweeping views of Mt Adams, Mt St Helens, and even Mt Hood. We snapped photos and turned around to see The Mountain herself, in full glow. The timing was perfect and we relished every second, even though we were getting swarmed by mosquitoes. When we’d had enough we tiptoed back down the scree, quickly realizing just how much we had climbed. Above us, Pinnacle Peak blazed a fiery red. By the time we reached the trailhead, it was dark.

 

 

We returned to the campsite, excited by the sunset hike. We fueled up on Laura’s amazing homemade chocolate chip cookies and chatted about our day. I was exhausted from the heat and all the hiking we did that day, but also energized. I leaned back and counted the stars. When I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore I snuggled up in the tent, sleeping for the first time in a long time, without the rain fly.

 

 

The first patch of bare ground had appeared on the south slope of Alta Vista, and the first creamy-white avalanche lilies were nodding a welcome to us and the warm spring sunshine.

 

The next morning we lazily prepared our breakfasts and slowly sipped tea. Most of us weren’t finished with the book so we took advantage of the morning to sit and read while we ate. Some people might think it’s rude to sit at the table with others and read a book, but here, it was perfectly acceptable.

After breakfast we headed back up to Paradise for the last of our hikes. The Skyline Trail was lined with avalanche lilies, pasque flowers, and heather. Marmots popped up and bid us good day, even sometimes showing off by posing majestically on rocks. We found a perfect spot for lunch with a view of Mt Rainier, of course, and the valley below. It was the perfect spot to chat about the book. I couldn’t help but wonder what Floyd would think of a group of women reading his book and hiking in his footsteps almost 100 years later. From his book he seems like a very forward thinking man for his time and I like to think that he would have got a kick out of it. Later we learned that Floyd lived until 2001 when he died at the ripe old age of 105(!). I like to think that his time on the mountain had something to do with that.

Before leaving Paradise, we had to go visit Paradise Inn, where Floyd and Ruth spent the winter of 1919. The historic inn is much as it was back in their day, and as we approached, we heard piano music coming from inside. It was easy to close your eyes and imagine Ruth playing it. One of our sweet group members treated us to cold water and ice cream. It was the perfect ending to our weekend in Paradise.

 

… we were both acutely aware of the healing calm of the wilderness around us, of the forests below and the skies above, and of the great silent mountain which stood over us.

 

A Year in Paradise by Floyd Schmoe

Book Ends

 

             

Road Trip

Arizona Part 3: Sedona

Day 5: Red Rock State Park

We started our first full day in Sedona at the Coffee Pot Restaurant. Named after the nearby rock formation, this diner boasts a menu of 101 omelets. I had a wonderful omelet but was overwhelmed by the crowded space and endless choices. We had been in the wilderness for less than a week, but I was certainly not ready for the onslaught of civilization. We quickly ate and retreated to the trails.

There are lots of trails along the Red Rock Loop and it seems like you really can’t go wrong anywhere here. We decided to first check out Red Rock State Park. After sorting out the backpacks and gear and slathering on the SPF, Evie, perhaps feeling my uncomfortable vibes at breakfast, decided to have a complete meltdown in the parking lot when we tried to put her in the backpack.

We packed everything back into the car, including Evie, and went for a short drive to another trailhead. That did the trick and we were back on schedule. We let her walk on her own for a bit and after a short while she was ready for the pack and a nap. The trail started out in a lovely forest and crossed the clear Oak Creek. From there the hardwoods gave way to prickly pear and juniper as we got farther away from the water. I was super excited to find a bright pink hedgehog cactus bloom and even a lone yellow prickly pear bloom.

After climbing to some views, we headed back to the Visitors Center for some shade. There is a nice little patio outside next to a garden with several bird and hummingbird feeders. The birds were everywhere, the hummingbirds buzzed and we even spied a snake resting in the shade. Then we headed to a big picnic area to sit in the shade and made our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch.

It was still early afternoon but too hot to go for another hike. So we headed back up Oak Creek Canyon and stopped at Indian Gardens for something cold. The charming market didn’t disappoint with its selection of cold beverages. I peaked out onto the patio and decided we HAD to go back the next day for breakfast. Then we drove a bit farther and found a spot to pull off the road and access the creek.

The spot was shady and cool. We got Evie into her swimsuit and my husband took her out into the calm, cool water. She couldn’t get enough. She walked right in with zero hesitation and had no intention of leaving the water. She splashed around in the mud and collected more rocks. I lounged on a boulder and sipped a cold crisp cider. We decided this was the only way to survive here.

 

Day 6: Sedona to Scottsdale

The next morning we headed back to Indian Gardens for breakfast. We sat in the cool morning air on the patio surrounded by flowers. Evie dug into her massive toast with almond butter, bananas, and honey. She needed a bath after that! I savored my tasty chai latte and breakfast sandwich. I could definitely get used to this place.

Next we headed back to the Red Rock Loop and found the Margs Draw Trail. I love how easy it is to find a trail in Sedona, there seems to be an endless supply. Evie was more cooperative this time and my husband carried her as I pointed too a bunch of quails that took over a small tree. She looked at them stoically, unimpressed. I scoured the prickly pear for blooms and admired the minty green of the agave.

Rusty rock formations towered above us and I struggled to recognize the shapes they were named after: Snoopy, coffee pot, cathedral, bell, courthouse. Sure, I suppose you could make out the references if you looked really hard, but I preferred to just think of them as wild rocks untarnished of images of ordinary things. They deserve better.

The day grew warmer and warmer and it seemed we had hiked much more than the 1.5 miles one way advertised in the guide book. We dipped into countless washes and I scanned the horizon with eagle eyes looking for coyotes. I wanted to see one so bad! I knew it was unlikely they would be out in the heat of the day. We were getting tired and hot when we decided we had indeed gone farther than 1.5 miles and turned around. Not long after that we ran into a family from Florida who told us they were lost. The mother was convinced they were going the wrong way and we showed them the way back to the road. They hadn’t been out for long and were so close to civilization that there was no way I thought it would be possible to get lost. Right? They didn’t have any water with them but they were joking and having fun. Later we ran into another couple from Phoenix who also told us they were lost. Man, this was not a place where I would want to be even the slightest bit lost.

After what turned out to be closer to a 6 mile round trip hike, we found refuge in the air conditioning of the car. Our plastic America the Beautiful pass had warped beyond repair on the dashboard, but the water in the shade of the back seat stayed cool. As we headed south out of Sedona, I wanted something cold. We stopped at the gas station and they were completely out of ice cream and popsicles of any kind! I was outraged but then decided that it made sense in this crazy desert. I settled for a cherry Slurpee.

Our destination for the day was a hotel with air conditioning and a shower in Scottsdale that I was admittedly very excited to get to. We had a little ways to go though, and we decided to take the scenic route. We drove through the high little mountain towns of Pine and Strawberry and when we saw signs for the Tonto Natural Bridge, I looked it up in the book. It seemed like it might be cool and we needed a break anyway, so we stopped.

We hiked down a short and steep trail into a large canyon of travertine. The tan canyon walls looked like they were melting into the abyss. As we dropped down into the canyon we had to hop across smooth eroded rock to get below the bridge. When we finally saw it our jaws dropped. The bridge and tunnel below it were massive. Up close the massive and porous travertine boulders looked like dinosaur bones. It was one of the most bizarre and fascinating places I’ve ever been. I was so  glad we stopped even if it slightly delayed my cold shower. It was worth it.

As our plane descended into Seattle the next morning, my starved eyes were fed with the most brilliant of greens. While we were gone, the trees had leafed out into piercing spring emerald green. I felt so lucky to live in a place with so much green and water. I also came home with a respect for the desert, for the availability of drinking water, and frankly a love of Arizona that I was not expecting. This trip made a lasting impression on me- I think of that man washing his dishes in such little water often and find myself scanning the road side for wildlife. I look forward to returning to Arizona. Always in the coolest of seasons, and always looking for coyotes.

Road Trip

Arizona Part 2: Grand Canyon

Day 3: Grand Canyon National Park

The next morning was like Christmas. We woke up to the soft rays of the rising sun through the juniper and prickly pear. We bundled up, made breakfast (I rushed it as much as possible), and then headed over to Desert Tower, not far from our campsite. The sky was a dark, piercing blue, the kind you get on a crisp fall day, and just a few clouds lingered from the interesting weather from the past day. The strange-looking stone tower was not open yet and we had the place to ourselves. We took in the sweeping views, down into the heart of the canyon as the Colorado shined like a silver snake.

The scale of the canyon is of course difficult to describe. It is a thing that you have to see to believe. One could sit and look for days into the canyon and see a thousand new things. I know people hike rim to rim, but from here it seemed an impossible task. The north rim must be at least 10 miles away as the crow flies, if not more. I am used to thinking that the higher up you go into the mountains, the more remote it is. Here, though, it is the opposite. It felt kind of strange and voyeuristic to look down into the remote canyon, knowing that people were down there with little in the way of amenities tackling their journeys while we were watching cozy and comfy from above.

After we tore ourselves away from the gorgeous views, we drove to the Grand Canyon Visitor Center to start our hike. The vibe here was much different than what we got at Desert Tower. We pulled into a massive parking lot that was already almost full and we committed the red antelope on the parking lot sign to memory like we were in an amusement park. We followed the people to the visitor center and found the Rim Trail.

The Rim Trail is nice in that it is mostly accessible for anyone, is easy to follow, and you can walk as long as you’d like and then hop on a shuttle bus to get back to the car. I appreciated the setup with the shuttle buses and how it keeps cars off the roads and in turn keeps pollution and noise down. There were lots of people on the trail in the beginning but then the crowds thinned as we kept on. Our first stop was the geology museum at Yavapai Point in a little stone building perched on the rim. It wasn’t all that impressive to be honest, but as we left the museum and continued on the trail, we entered into the “Trail of Time” where time was depicted as golden markers on the trail.

We passed through a few hundred years quite quickly and kept into the thousands. After a while we passed by examples of the type of rock that was formed during that time period. Once we got into the millions of years ago, it started to get good. I enjoyed reading off the familiar names of the rock formations like Kaibab, Coconino, Supai, Bright Angel, Temple Butte. Then we got into the really fun ones, like folded Vishnu basement rock and Jupiter granite. These rocks were billions of years old! It was kind of mind-blowing.

Next we stopped to check out the Hopi House store. It was architect Mary Colter’s first work in the Grand Canyon and she modeled it after a pueblo. Native Americans were welcome to come and sell their goods here, and today it still serves as the best place along the south rim to souvenir shop. I picked up some things there including the gorgeous children’s book, The Girl Who Loved Wild Horses, and another one called Everybody Needs a Rock since Evie was in a serious rock collecting phase (we actually found little rocks in her baby pockets when we got home which almost made my heart explode with love).

We watched some hikers complete the long uphill climb of the Bright Angel Trail and then grabbed some lunch at the famous Bright Angel Lodge. Then we kept on walking. The views never got old and there was so much history to see. We checked out the Kolb Studio where the famous Kolb brothers showed the first motion picture from the inside of the canyon, filmed on their own journey down the Colorado. There was also its sleek rival, Lookout Studio. Unfortunately, both studios are now just souvenir shops without much reference to what they once were. We walked some more until we got tired and hopped on the shuttle to the end of the road at Hermit’s Rest.

There we basked in the sun and ordered ice cream at the little walk up store window. I waited in line while my husband and Evie went off to find a place to sit in the shade. Someone in front of me was asking where everyone was from. They answered: California, Australia, France, Germany. We Americans were in the minority and that felt kind of nice. I found my husband and Evie under a tree and Evie was making a little pile of rocks as became her favorite thing to do on this trip. We found respite from our day’s journey, as intended, and when we’d had enough, we hopped back on the shuttle to the village. On the way back we saw tons of elk along the road, just hanging out.

At the village we walked back the few miles to the parking lot. All of the sudden we noticed the clouds. Virga hung in the air in the canyon and it felt like you could reach out and touch it. Sunlight filtered through the openings in the clouds and highlighted ridges in the canyon, giving it even more dimension. We watched the clouds move around us and then we could see the hail coming down up ahead of us. It was only a matter of time until it hit us and turned to rain. It seemed that we missed the worst of it, though, as we watched people drenched from head to toe walking past us.

Later that night after dinner we headed back to the Desert Tower to watch the sunset. There was a crowd of people sitting along the edge. A few of the dramatic rain clouds stuck around for a show and we admired one as we found a nice rock to sit on among the crowd. It was quiet and we were all there for the same reason. Together we watched the blaze of yellow disappear behind the north rim and we experienced a famous Grand Canyon sunset. I have to say, it was quite grand.

Day 4: Grand Canyon to Sedona

The next morning we got a later start and headed back to Desert Tower. This time it was open so we went in to check it out. I didn’t know anything about the tower so when we walked up the stairs to the tower part, my jaw dropped. The inside of the tower was, from bottom to top, covered in Native American art. It was so beautiful and I wondered where it all came from. Turns out is was another of Mary Colter’s creations. I made a mental note to find out more about this woman (more about her later). I was so glad that we took the time to go back and see the inside of it. It is now one of my very favorite places.

Before we headed back out of the National Park, we stopped at the Tusayan ruins. The pueblo-like structures date back to 1185 AD and include the remains of a small Kiva. This is a room where the ancient people would gather for ceremonies, rituals, and meetings. Nearby, there was an open field where it is believed that people grew crops and collected water. The surrounding forest was full of useful plants. The information signs called it a “supermarket.” Pinon pines and Utah Juniper supplied wood for construction, heating, and cooking. The pine needles were used to make baskets and brewed into tea. The tree bark was used to make sandals and insulation, and pinon nuts and juniper berries were collected and eaten. The tough leaves of the yucca were braided into rope or made into shoes.

Next we headed back south toward Flagstaff and decided to stop and check out the Wupatki ruins in the Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument. This part of the park was much different than near the volcano. It was an open desert, prairie-like with little to no trees, just a few shrubs here and there. As we drove along the winding loop road we spotted some pronghorns watching us from a small hill. The loop road has several stops with short trails leading to ruins. These ruins also date back to the 1100’s and are pueblo-style.

The first ruin was Lomaki, meaning “beautiful house.” Evie fell asleep on the drive so my husband and I took turns on the short trail to let her nap in the car. The pueblo was situated above a small box canyon with views of the snow-capped San Fransisco peaks. These are the remains of a large stratovolcano and include Arizona’s highest peak, Humphreys Peak. It felt lonely there, out in the middle of nowhere, and I really really wanted to spot coyote or some more pronghorns, but no luck.

We continued on to the next ruins, Nalakihu and Citadel pueblos. Evie woke up so we all ate some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the blazing sun before tackling this one. Then she walked on her own all the way up to the top of the Citadel! I was so proud of her, even if we did have to stop and look at at least 500 rocks on the way. I’m totally ok with that.

Our last stop on the loop road was Wupatki, the largest and most impressive ruin. The National Parks paper says that life at Wupatki, “revolved around growing corn, praying for rain, and finding ways for people with diverse backgrounds to live together as a community.” The name Wupatki, means “tall house” in the Hopi language. It is several stories tall and contains over 100 rooms. This was a major trade center where traders would bring all kinds of exotic goods like scarlet macaws brought from tropical places and of course pottery, jewelry, and turquoise. Life here must have been very difficult, given there is little rain and vegetation.

In the visitor center you can borrow guide books that give information at certain locations along the trail. One of the most surprising things I read in the guide was that when this area became a National Monument, the rangers actually lived inside the ruins. They had kitchens and everything and often brought their wives to come live with them. Before that, it was common for sheepherders and cattlemen to live there too. I can’t imagine this happening now as it is so protected.

Back on road we drove for a bit and stopped at Walnut Canyon. It was getting quite hot outside now and the short trail from the visitor’s center dropped down 200 feet into the canyon and onto an “island.” The surrounding canyon was full of cliff dwellings. We pointed them out to each other and then pondered how on earth anyone could get to them. They were created roughly 800 years ago by the Sinagua people. They were most likely attracted to this canyon because of its abundance of plants and wildlife. It seems desolate now, but it is cool to think that long ago this canyon was full of people and you could just climb over to visit your neighbor’s dwelling.

It was getting late in the afternoon and it was also getting seriously hot. We drove to our next destination, Sedona, and found a campsite in Oak Creek Canyon. We set up camp and drove into town to find some food and refuge from the sun. We found some delicious Mexican food with lovely views of the surrounding red rocks. Then we came back to the campsite for our evening ritual of prickly pear candy and prickly pear tea before bed. There weren’t many rocks at this campsite, so I showed Evie that she could also collect pine cones. She went straight to work. When she was done we got her ready for bed and read her favorite Pancakes, Pancakes book and an adorable Native American board book about weather that I picked up at Brightside Books in Flagstaff. We were getting into a new routine now. I preferred this one and I knew it would be tough to go back to our old one.

Road Trip

Arizona Part 1: Verde Valley

Day 1: Phoenix to Dead Horse Ranch State Park

In the beginning of May we headed to Arizona for our annual spring road trip. (We did a spring road trip last year, so now it’s a tradition, right?) I was super excited because I had never been there and had been wanting to go there for a long time. We flew into Phoenix and headed north. Like last year, we didn’t have much of a plan. We stopped at REI and bought a map and a National Parks pass and I cracked open my guide book while my husband drove.

We headed to the small town of Cottonwood where I found Dead Horse State Park on the map. We found great camping there with gorgeous views. They even had showers AND a dish washing station. It was a little chilly and dark clouds threatened as we set up and got our bearings. We were in the Verde Valley and could see the “J” indicating the mining town of Jerome up in the mountains above us. Virga hung in the air toward Jerome and the smell of ozone overwhelmed us. We made a quick dinner and prepped for stormy weather in the tent. We bundled up and put Evie in her winter jam jams and sleep sack. It was not exactly the desert weather we were expecting!

Rain showers came and went all night but it was mostly dry when we woke up. We made breakfast and I took the dishes to wash at the station. An older man was already there, just getting started. I made myself cozy nearby and waited. It was a beautiful morning and it felt so good to just sit and watch a little yellow bird twitter around in a tree. The man finished with his dishes and I realized that I barely heard him use any water. Ah yes, of course, we were in a desert. Water is a valued resource here and not to be wasted. This was a good reminder of the importance of clean and fresh water and one that stuck with me.

Day 2: Tuzigoot to Desert View & Everything in between

We started the day at the nearby Tuzigoot Ruins. This ancient 110-room pueblo was built by the Sinagua people who lived there between 1000 and 1400. The stone structure sits atop a small hill with a view of the river valley below. We were surprised by how green it was along the Verde River, but should have guessed. We decided it was a nice place to make a home, beside the river and up high to see everything around. But it was exposed, and must get incredibly hot.

On this day, however, it was not hot. As we walked along the short path it began to rain and as each drop hit the ground it seemed to release every smell the surface had ever encountered. It smelled of coyote urine and dried grass. Ghosts of all the fauna that visited and all the flora that lived and died since the last rain were released all at once. The rain then picked up and converged into hail. We moved more quickly and covered up Evie. The marble-sized hail stung my exposed toes (I insisted on wearing my Chacos despite the weather) and we took shelter in the visitor center. We and the park rangers on duty watched the hail out the window. The rangers were stunned and told us we were so lucky to be there in the rain. I squinted my eyes and told them we were from Seattle. They laughed and told us it hadn’t rained a drop since October, seven months ago.

It hailed and rained a bit longer while we ran to the car and snaked up to Jerome, an old ghost town perched on a 30 degree slope at 5200 feet. The town looks much like it did when it was a booming copper mining town with its wooden storefronts and rough exterior. It once boasted a population of over 10,000 people before the depression of the 1930’s. A hardy group of 50-100 stuck it out after the mine closed in the 1950’s. It regained popularity in the last 30 years and is now touted as a tourist destination and art community. We wandered around the old mine while Evie had her morning snacks.

Our next destination was Montezuma Castle. The impressive cliff dwellings were also built by the Sinagua people. It is one of the best preserved dwellings because of the protective alcove it was built in. It’s name is misleading. It didn’t have anything to do with Montezuma and was not a castle. It was more of an apartment complex with many rooms that were accessed by ladders and stood high above Beaver Creek which frequently flooded in monsoon season. When it was designated a National Monument by Theodore Roosevelt in 1906, visitors could climb up and tour the dwellings. Safety became an issue, though, and the ladders were removed to also help preserve the space.

We then headed north again on the highway toward Flagstaff. As we climbed up in elevation it began to snow. It snowed and snowed until we got into town where the sunshine melted it away. We found a nice little restaurant with delicious tacos and I discovered the local Wild Tonic kombucha tea. We also discovered the most adorable Brightside Books next door. I could have stayed there all day perusing the books and chatting with the friendly staff, but alas, we were hoping to make it to the Grand Canyon that day, so we had to keep on our way.

We had time for another adventure, though, so we stopped at Sunset Crater Volcano for a short hike to stretch our legs. The black and red cinder cone is the dormant remnant of the volcano that last erupted around the year 1085. The landscape seems little changed since then. Pumice covers the mountain and lava pillows on the ground below it. The lava beds are extensive and reminiscent of those in Hawaii. It is amazing how little has grown here in the last 1000 years. Another reminder of how harsh the desert climate can be.

The ancient Sinagua people that lived nearby were forced to flee their settlements during the eruption. The lava flows extended to six miles in some places and the area was covered in ash. We passed by a hornito, Spanish for “little oven” on the trail. It was a perfectly circular area, flattened in the middle and ringed by lava rocks. It was a spatter cone formed by lava forced up through a chamber and accumulated on the edges. It was huge and I wondered what it would be like to see it’s formation. The eruption affected the people of the area profoundly. The Navajo people believe this cinder cone and others around the San Francisco Peaks are guardians and protectors. They still come here to give the mountain honor through offerings.

After our otherworldly visit to Sunset Crater, we seemed to enter yet another world as we continued north. The landscape changed abruptly and become quite flat and rusty red. The highway continued in what seemed like a perfectly straight line with nothing around except for an occasional group of cattle. When we turned west we began to climb again into dirt mountains with no trees, only brush. We climbed slowly until we saw a crack in the ground.

If we weren’t on the road just slightly above the Little Colorado River Gorge, we may have never known it was there. We found a pull off and looked down into the canyon below. We could barely see the bottom and it gave me little butterflies in my stomach. The Little Colorado River is the largest of the tributaries of the bigger Colorado, you know, the grand one. We were getting closer.

We drove up and up. We were surrounded by a sea of funny juniper trees. They are not very tall compared to the giants in the northwest and it just felt like we were on top of something. It is hard to describe this feeling. I kept scooching up in my seat like I might be able to see something in the distance. It was dinner time when we finally reached the Desert View campground just inside the boundary of the National Park. We pitched the tent and made some food in the last of the day’s light and warmed ourselves with prickly pear tea I picked up at the Montezuma Castle gift shop. I also got some deep red sugar-coated prickly pear jelly candy which we had for desert. It was delicious.

The temperature dropped quickly with the sunset and we braced ourselves and Evie for a cold night in the tent. I couldn’t get to sleep right away, not just because of the cold and the tea and the candy, but because of the excitement. Here we were, just the shortest distance away from the edge of the Grand Canyon, but we hadn’t even the tiniest glimpse of it yet. I couldn’t wait for my first ever Grand views in the morning. I felt like a kid on Christmas Eve.

Book Club

Animal Dialogues

My worn paperback copy of The Animal Dialogues lives on the “dad” shelf of my living room bookshelves. Most of the spines happen to be black, brown, or gold (dad colors, right?) and have either been given to me from my dad or remind me of him. Some I picked up on our road trip through Alaska ten years ago, others are his old bird identification books, their covers tattered from use. Most are about wildlife, adventure, or nature in some way, books I’ve read and loved and sent him for his birthday or Fathers Day so he could read them too. A simply framed box, given to me on my 28th birthday, holds four sharply cut arrowheads found by my dad or my grandfather and rests on a pile of books in the center of the shelf. A carefully detailed account of when and where each was found tucked behind the casing. Other little items that my dad has passed onto me through the years are carefully placed between the books like one of his high school report cards (his best grade was in Biology) and an old engineer’s handbooks from the 1940’s. My grandfather was a train engineer and I love flipping through the delicate blueprints of steam locomotive systems that fold out of the books. One could learn much about my dad and his interests from this shelf, and consequently, much about myself and the traits I get from him and my grandfather.

So needless to say,  I was thrilled when mountain guide and adventure writer, Charlotte Austin, recommended reading this book and collaborating with her online book club, Adventure Grapes. I first read this book about a decade ago and I could immediately and vividly recall the Raven and Mountain Lion chapters. I was excited to revisit it and since Craig grew up in Arizona and many of his stories are set there, it would pair nicely with an upcoming road trip to his home state. We planned our May book club outing to Icicle Ridge, a nice early season hike near Leavenworth. Laura invited us to camp at her family’s nearby cabin so I brought the whole family- my husband, Evie, and doggie Nali. It’s been awhile since we’ve all been out on an adventure together.

We were greeted at the cabin with hugs and bug spray. I was secretly hoping that we would have some epic wildlife encounters over the weekend and I was encouraged when I spotted a coyote trotting down the railroad tracks next to highway 2 on our drive to the cabin. BUT, as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for. We did have an epic encounter with an animal highlighted in the book. Unfortunately, it was with a less desirable species: the mosquito. I played it cool for awhile and nonchalantly swatted the bugs while I listened intently to my friends, concentrating on making eye contact and nodding in agreement, uh-huh (slap, slap). This lasted a little while until I couldn’t take it anymore. I  jumped up and really sprayed myself with bug spray this time, hovering the bottle for a long time over my limbs and head. I felt like Craig’s friend who had gone crazy from the mosquitoes in Alaska. We had been at the cabin for approximately 30 minutes. Ugh.

Laura and I and some others who had arrived decided to take refuge in the car and head over to Lake Wenatchee for a short hike while the sun was beginning to set. We lingered along the shoreline, basking in the fresh and bug-free air until we got too hungry and headed back to the cabin for dinner. As we drove, it started unexpectedly raining. Then it rained harder. Our husbands had stayed behind to keep a fire going and we found them huddled on the porch out of the rain. The fire still burned and they found round pieces of bark to place on the fire grate that made perfect little houses to cook our sausages. The rain dispersed the bugs, the porch kept us dry, and we ate via lantern light as we told our own scary wildlife encounters. This was after hearing the news that someone had been killed by a mountain lion that morning in an area where we all regularly hike. It was the first fatal attack by a mountain lion in Washington in nearly 100 years. Sadly, the victim had done everything they were supposed to do. It was a sobering reminder that we too have a place in nature’s food chain.

The next morning we headed to Leavenworth to fuel up on caffeine at the adorable Argonaut Espresso Bar. We met the rest of our group at the Icicle Ridge trailhead and headed up the trail through a thick stand of green maples. The lushness soon gave way to the typical dusty trail lined by ponderosa pine, lupine, and balsamroot (that magical combination again!). It was warm and getting hotter by the minute on the exposed trail. But the views of the Icicle Valley and the Wenatchee River below were getting better and better. I slogged up the switchbacks, happy to have time to clear my mind. That’s the thing about hiking, you don’t have to make many decisions. You just follow the trail. I thought of the part in the book when Craig yearns to be an animal with no plans, no quarrels, just sticks and stones.

It is the wish to be an animal again, to have the eyes that I have lost. No presuppositions. Just sticks and stones. I want something that is gone, something unacceptable, irrational. Where it is known when to sleep, where to seek food, which direction to turn. Where it is understood, without quarrel or reason. I want to lose my fingers and plans and I want to fly.

We gathered at the top of the ridge in the shade and lingered a while. We marveled at our new view of the Wenatchee River raging through Tumwater Canyon, a stark contrast to the lazy version flowing through town. Waterfalls blazed white on the far reaches of the ridge and carved their way down to the river in impressive ribbons. We all agreed that it seemed early for the amount of snow melt happening already this year. We walked along the ridge through balsamroot to the overlook, Leavenworth spread out below, and asked someone to take our picture. We had sunglasses and hats on, full of mosquito bites and sweat. Ah, it felt like summer.

I wanted to share the discussion questions I came up with for Adventure Grapes, you can see them here. I would love to hear your thoughts on the book. It is one of my favorites and brings up so may fascinating questions about our relationship with wild animals. We can’t possibly know what goes on in an animal’s mind, but I know that we are not the first animals to think, remember, love, and see beauty and we should treat them accordingly. As Robin Wall Kimmerer says in her book, Braiding Sweetgrass, we have so much to learn from these species who have been on the earth much longer than us.

The life of an animal lies outside of conjecture. It is far beyond the scientific papers and the campfire stories. It is as true as breath. It is important as the words of children.

 

The Animal Dialogues by Craig Childs

 

Book Ends
Road Trip

Eastern Oregon: Part 3

Day 5: Kimberly to Maupin

From Kimberly, we headed south following the John Day River. It was early in the morning and cold and cloudy. Light precipitation saturated the rainbow-colored hills: red, yellow, blue. As if in an effort to stifle the color, snow dusted the tops of the hills. We pulled into the small, deserted Blue Basin parking area in the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument and got out to take a look around. My husband carried Evie and I skipped ahead to snap photos. I crossed a little bridge and my jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe my eyes. A tiny ribbon of water meandered below. The water was the most brilliant milky turquoise blue.

I was blown away years ago when I visited the nearby Painted Hills and I was most excited to see more of the John Day Fossil Bed area on this trip. I didn’t think it could get much better than those striped hills, but Blue Basin after the rain exceeded all of my expectations.  As we walked farther, you could see where the earth had eroded down into the namesake’s blue bowl. The jagged edges seemed to calve with the messiness and brilliant blue of glaciers. It was so quiet, no sign of life in any direction. We just stood and stared and wondered how we got to this alternate universe.

As we drove a little farther, we found a sign of civilization. The enormous white house and barn spread out on lush green grass seemed out of place against the arid backdrop of sagebrush and pine. We found that we had stumbled upon the Cant Ranch, established in the early 1900’s by James and Elizabeth Cant. They had come from Scotland and acquired the land through the Homestead Act. They raised cattle and sheep to supply the nearby mining villages and grew crops to sustain them and the animals thanks to the John Day River that ran wide and lazy through the property. After the Cants died in the 1970’s, the building became the National Park Headquarters and an interpretive center. It was closed while we were there, but a sign invited us to walk along a short trail to see the grounds and the towering Sheep Rock across the river.

We lingered for a bit and then headed across the road to the Paleontology Center. The center was full of fossils found in the area and renditions of the kind of life that lived in this bizarre locale millions of years ago. My favorites were perfectly preserved ferns and leaves. It was comforting to recognize them, to know they have flourished so long in this world. In the lobby, we watched video monitors of scientists studying fossils in real time. I picked up a National Parks passport for Evie and a bright futuristic postcard beckoning visitors back in August 2017 to watch the total solar eclipse. I thought what an ideally strange place to watch an equally strange phenomena.

Next, we headed to the old mining town of Mitchell to see if we could find something to eat. We found a promising cafe on the way to town but as we pulled into the parking lot, we noticed something seemed a little off. A woman with gray hair and an apron fussed with the cash register as I asked her if they were open. She said, sure, honey, we’re open. We just don’t have any electricity at the moment. I asked her how long they’ve been without power and she said all morning. I broke the news to my husband and we continued driving through town to see if there were any other options. In less than two minutes, we were through town and it appeared that the entire place was without power. People were standing outside just looking around like the sky may have answers. This place is weird, I told my husband. He gave me an mmm hmmm in agreement. We snacked on what we had in the car and moved on.

Our next stop was my beloved Painted Hills. I couldn’t wait to show my husband and Evie this place and enjoy it without the stifling heat that accompanied Nali and I on our first visit. We drove the long dirt road through ranch land as I kept repeating, just wait, it gets better! over and over. We parked among the dusty vans with plates from all over the country and I smiled with glee. I love it here so much! became my new mantra. My even-keeled husband seemed to enjoy it despite the impossibility of the place living up to all my accolades. He was used to my drama by now. Evie’s sharp little eyes surveyed with laser focus, but she too seemed to be becoming immune to my enthusiasm as she didn’t mutter a peep. It was ok, I was in my happy place.

We headed to the Painted Cove trail with its mounds of sculpted red clay. Here, the water ran orange as it braided itself to lower ground. The cloud ceiling was beginning to break and the deep blue sky emerged along with some sunshine. I lingered, I absorbed, I soaked it all up, not wanting the short trail, the trip, the sunshine to end.

We drove on. We took a back road through a gorgeous canyon that we couldn’t believe wasn’t a famous National Park or something. Tiny homesteads crumbled next to modern cabins and houses and we wondered if the originals had been there since the Homestead Act and the land passed down through generations. Occasionally a ghost town would appear out of nowhere and I’d check the map. Antelope, Shaniko, Bakeoven. We stopped to get some beef jerky and popcorn and I picked a homemade magnet that says, I’ve been to Fossil, Oregon with a picture of a triceratops.

We drove all the way to Maupin, a small town (which seemed like a sprawling city to us at this point) at the bottom of a steep canyon and snuggled into a bend of the Deschutes River. We found a city park jam packed with RV’s but it had a strip of grass they let us tent campers have for the night. We found a decent restaurant that catered to the tourists coming to raft the river and had a table outside that we could sit at with Nali and a messy baby. As the day turned to evening, we watched a rafting crew get ready for a trip down the river.

Day 6: Maupin to Seattle

We had been on the road for 5 days and it seemed like a lifetime, and I mean that in the best way. We had developed a routine and it seemed Evie was loving, or at least tolerating, all the travel. But alas, it was time to return to Seattle. It was a beautiful bluebird day, the warmth and sun finally arrived just as we were leaving. We decided to take advantage of it and drove up to Mount Hood. We showed Evie the Timberline Lodge and I scribbled one last postcard and dropped it in the mailbox in the lobby. I gave Evie a kiss and told her we would return when she was older.

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