Monument Hopping

We ended our first run through New Mexico by visiting four national monuments and celebrating Alanna’s birthday in style at her new favorite restaurant in Santa Fe. 

We left Santa Fe last Sunday afternoon, after spending a slow morning with Peter and Antonio. Since the boys have a reliable power source and a legitimate shower, Alanna thought it might be a good idea to shave her head in their backyard. Peter had a better idea—why not use the dog grooming facility they have in their casita! Brilliant! This time around, Alanna donned an official cape, I put on an apron, and, I don’t mind saying, I did a super job for an amateur in the grooming department! Afterwards, we each luxuriated in warm showers, loaded up the fridge with produce from Peter’s garden, and headed off to Bandelier National Monument. 

Bandelier was a wonderful surprise. Our first afternoon was spent relaxing in camp, reading, and watching a curious tarantula wander about seemingly aimlessly before heading off into the brush. We vowed to wear close-toed shoes after that sighting! The next morning, we took the shuttle down into the canyon and headed straight for the trail once the ranger finished her orientation. The walk to and through more Ancestral Puebloan ruins was a beautiful albeit windy one. The dwellings were unique ones in that many of them were carved into the tuff, a rock made from compressed volcanic ash (Alanna’s explanation, thank you). They also built in front of the tuff cliff faces. In a few spots, ladders were set up so that you could climb into the ancient dwellings. It’s fascinating to see soot from their fires still on the ceiling. At the end of the trail, we climbed up numerous steep ladders and made our way along the cliffside to another dwelling. The view was incredible as was the sense of wonder regarding the lives of those who called Bandelier home. 

The walk through the canyon was interesting for another reason—in the past five years, the monument experienced a major fire that was followed by enormous flash floods. Piles of debris lined the trail. Debris in this case means piles of fifty-foot trees, roots and all, that in some spots were easily ten feet high. We were grateful for no rain in the forecast that day. 

The shuttle that we needed to return to the campground was late. Turns out, those high winds we were experiencing on the canyon floor had caused a tree to topple in the campground parking lot. Sadly, a woman lost her life as a result of this freak accident. Oddly, the tree had been alive and healthy. We counted our blessings that evening as we were filled with sadness for this woman’s family. 

On Tuesday morning, we woke up a little foggy after the sobering events of the day before, trying to discern how to reconcile all that we had marveled at with the tragedy. We decided it was time head back towards Santa Fe. We rolled into town just as our bellies started to grumble, so we headed to La Choza for an early birthday lunch for Alanna. The boys had taken us to dinner there the week before, and we were both craving more. We stuffed ourselves on enchiladas and burritos slathered in green chile. Though I felt like I needed a nap, we instead drove to Cochiti Lake, not too far south, thankfully. 

After securing a campsite and digesting for a bit, we went to Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument. Whoa. This was an unbelievable three mile hike that took hours because we kept stopping to look around. Alanna snapped hundreds of photos! We wandered through a slot canyon and then up to the top of the mesa. The tent rocks themselves were formations that we had never seen before—another perfect early birthday present for Alanna! She was so thrilled there was a definite skip in her step. 

After a peaceful and full night of sleep at Cochiti, we drove south on I-25 towards Albuquerque, where we were greeted by over a dozen hot air balloons, stragglers from the very early morning launch at the Balloon Fiesta. After snaking around Albuquerque, we turned west on I-40, jumping off in Grants to check out El Malpais National Monument. These lava fields were fine, but it is really more of a park for caving, a pastime that neither of us enjoy, so for us it did not stack up to everything else we had seen. 

Then, we went to El Morro National Monument, which we really enjoyed. The sandstone cuesta ends in dramatic fashion and harbors a year round watering hole which made it an important stop for travelers in this arid land.  The base of the sandstone cliff is known as Inscription Rock because centuries of Native Americans, Spanish conquistadors and American homesteaders all etched symbols, names and dates as they passed. In a hike up to the top of the mesa, during which Alanna was startled by a large bull snake resting on the trail, we enjoyed seeing a partially excavated Ancestral Pueblo dwelling. 

We now plan to spend some serious time checking out Arizona, especially the northern part of the state, before the cold and snow arrive. Just to whet your appetite, we are starting to write a new series for the blog which I think we will call Minnie Living where we will give you a peek into how we actually live in these wonderful twenty-three feet. Stay tuned!

Bandelier dwellings

Slot canyon fun

La Ventana Arch, largest in New Mexico

Inscription Rock

Santa Fe

After a night of camping and hiking under the pastel cliffs of Ghost Ranch, which were made so famous by Georgia O’Keefe, we wandered south to Santa Fe.

This year long trip that we are on is intended as a break, a chance to be outdoors as much as possible, and an opportunity to try on communities to see if they might be the right fit as our next home. Santa Fe works. Though it is early in the year, and we have no idea where we will in fact end up, we feel relief to have found a place that we believe we could call home. 

I was surprised that Santa Fe is relatively small, under 100,000 people, even though it is the capital of New Mexico. On the way into town last Thursday, we stopped in Espanola for lunch. I, as Alanna expected, ordered a green chile cheeseburger, since I am a lover of the toppings and burgers. She had a burrito, smaller than any she had ever eaten yet packed with delicious pork and guacamole that made the absence of rice and beans actually make sense. With very full bellies and much anticipation of what was to come on the culinary front, we drove to our friends’ house. 

Peter and Antonio moved here two years ago from San Francisco, also looking for change. They were gracious hosts, allowing us to camp in their driveway while also showing us around town and filling us in on SF life. Yep, another SF perhaps! They certainly love it here, which I think went a long way in encouraging us and helping us to feel grounded. 

The city itself is grounding. People don’t seem to be in a hurry. Why would you need to be when you can traverse the town in fifteen to twenty minutes, even in traffic? It had a peaceful feel, no matter where we went, and we felt a sense of equanimity here that we have not felt elsewhere. 

The citizens of Santa Fe are nice! Not the kind of nice you get when someone wants something from you, but the kind of nice you get when people are truly nice and kind and thoughtful. What a relief. 

The adobe architecture is quite lovely and so new to us. Interestingly, many of the homes were not visible since they are tucked away amongst the abundant pinyon pines . We did get to see a great deal of the architecture, though, as we strolled through the plaza and down Canyon Road. 

We need much more time on Canyon—it was described by one working artist as the most significant street for art in America. Though SF may be the center of the state’s government, it really seems to be the center for the arts for the entire southwest. Painters, sculptors, filmmakers, writers—they are all in Santa Fe, it seems, and the creative vibe is a palpable one. The photographer and quilter and all-around artist in the family (not me!) felt right at home strolling through the galleries and visiting the two museums we got to on Saturday (Georgia O’Keefe and the extraordinary Museum of Contemporary Native Arts). There are more museums and more galleries that we are excited to explore when we return, either as residents or tourists. Time will tell. 

Fresh roasted chiles. It’s one of the main reasons we wanted to visit New Mexico in the fall. We have not been disappointed. Driving through town, the smell is everywhere, and when we visited the abundant farmer’s market on Saturday, we were overjoyed not only by the smells but also by the variety of chiles available. Needless to say, we stocked up and Alanna will be creating delectable meals with chile as the star for weeks to come. Tonight she is featuring kale (fresh from the boys’ garden), corn and poblano quesadillas!

Santa Fe feels fresh to us, and new. It’s really unlike anything we have ever experienced and while we have spent time in the southwest, this feels very different. If we do end up here, we are excited to immerse ourselves in this newness—so many new people, new foods, new sights and sounds (really cool new birds!). There will also be new places to explore and seasons to experience. Yes, they have winter, but I think Peter and Antonio were able to convince Alanna that it is doable, with plenty of sunshine along with snow that feels refreshing instead of a burden. 

We are now enjoying Bandelier National Monument, another stunning Ancestral Pueblo site. With just three miles of roadway and seventy miles of trails, we expect to be here for a few days getting our boots dirty in some New Mexico soil. Immersing ourselves in ancient cultures has been a real gift of this leg of our trip. After the Bisti Badlands, we went to Aztec Ruins National Monument and walked through rooms with 900 year old roofs and sat in a reconstructed great kiva. We are spending significant time in places that we might bypass if this was a regular vacation in which we were pushing ourselves in a limited time frame. 

It has been a great few weeks after working in Idaho. I feel fully back in explorer/adventurer mode now. As of this writing, we have no idea where we will head after Bandelier or how many days we will elect to stay here—we just know that are two of the luckiest women on this planet!

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Great Kiva, Aztec Ruins

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The Bisti

Before we left San Francisco, we each picked one spot that was a must visit for us. Lisa’s was Glacier National Park and mine was the Bisti/De-Na-Zin Wilderness Area.  Most people have never heard of it. It’s not even on a lot of maps, but if you’re a landscape photographer, Bisti is a necessary pilgrimage. 

No trails, no campground. There aren’t even any clear maps of the area! It takes work to explore here, but the payoff is an eroding wonderland of hoodoos and deep washes that are unbelievably fun to explore and photograph. 

Bisti was once an ancient swamp and shallow sea. Sediments left behind formed mudstone, coal, and shale, which were protected by a later addition of sandstone.  The water flowing off the rising Rockies cut through the sandstone to the softer layers beneath, forming the spires and winding washes seen today. 

We arrived on Monday, and I immediately dragged Lisa out on a hike after downloading a GPS app to her phone. I had never experienced total silence before, but we paused over and over marveling at the quiet. Not even the wind was stirring, there was simply no sound. We hiked for hours each day, never seeing another person, pausing often to marvel at the crazy formations. 

The sunsets were not confined to a small patch of western sky; they were 360 degree shows that lasted well over an hour. By 9pm each night, the sky was littered with stars, more than we have seen since Great Basin! The Milky Way stretched above us in the darkness and we hugged and smiled and spun about in awe. At 4am the wind rattling the Minnie woke us and out our window the barest sliver of orange moon was rising just above the badlands. Lisa was initially confused, thinking it was the sun popping over the hills, and she kept checking for the next thirty minutes to confirm over and over again that it was in fact the moon. We’d never seen such a spectacular moon rise.

Our fellow explorers, all photographers or their patient significant others, arrived as excited as I was and were eager to chat about which direction to hike in order to see the most interesting formations. On Tuesday, a government truck rolled up and out popped Sherman, the BLM New Mexico social media man. We were resting after our second big hike of the day and he came over and chatted with us before he hiked out with his equipment for sunset and star shots. We love that we continue to meet so many fun and interesting and engaging people on the road. 

We’d been a little nervous about dispersed camping at Bisti because we had no idea if others would be around, what the atmosphere would be like, or how safe we would be. Turns out, we were in good company, with super friendly Canadians the first night and then other Californians the second night. With the exception of the wind that woke us the first night, we slept like babies in the comfort of the Bisti.

I’m so happy that we were able to spend two days exploring here, but water, the element that made this amazing place is also forcing us to leave. The forecast called for rain and Bisti is not a place to be in the rain because the clay and coal soils turn to sticky slippery muck and no car or even shoes can make it through what the locals refer to as gumbo.

Never play with large adorable bugs in the desert, this one turned out to be a blister beetle

100!

It’s the evening of day 99, and we have just returned from a walk around a few of the loops in the Mesa Verde National Park campground. We arrived here on Friday as it began to snow, the Minnie’s first (and hopefully last) snowfall, and plan to head out tomorrow. During our walk, we were both pretty dumbfounded that Monday will be day 100 on the road. How did that happen?!!

As of the close of business today, we have hiked 365 miles. Not bad considering we slowed up considerably when we hit some bad weather and I was doing some work. The Minnie has over 12,000 miles on her so we’ve gone somewhere in the neighborhood of 9,000 miles since we bought her in April. We have been to seven national parks, five national monuments, forty-eightother public land areas, and we have slept in the driveways of seven dear friends. 

Leaving everything we know and living in a twenty-three foot motorhome has been a huge change, but we absolutely love the Minnie and already wonder how (or if) we will transition back to living in a house that does not move. Our lives are pretty simple since just the essentials came along, and we’ve adjusted really well to the small space.  Even on freezing rainy days it feels cozy rather than small.  It is, however, a huge challenge to keep the space clean. It takes about five minutes for it to feel like a tornado has run through here, and Alanna is an excellent tornado! Plus, we seem to have a special talent for tracking in dirt & rocks, so we have to sweep almost every day.

For the most part we sleep really well in the Minnie. Last week, we tried out parking lot camping for the first time at Cabela’s in Salt Lake City. TOTAL FAIL! Alanna woke me just after midnight because a semi was idling right next to us. Apparently, it had been there for over twenty minutes. We ended up heading down the road to a county park and sleeping through the rest of the night once I got over the notion that we had entered the Twilight Zone and things were going to end poorly alongside the Jordan River. Those are the times I regret watching so much Law and Order. 

We have been journeying south from Idaho and were intending to explore a number of places in western Colorado along the way, but early season snow storms caused us to alter our plans. We spent a couple of nights atop the gorgeous red rock canyons of the Colorado National Monument watching storms roll across the valley below. A lull in the 60mph winds enabled us to descend the winding road from the monument and head farther south. 

For the last week we’ve travelled roads lined with trees displaying quintessential autumnal colors, but the sharp yellow of the Aspens around Telluride took our breath away. Each leaf seemed as though it was lit from within. We drove through the area in the lull between two snowstorms. The high peaks, the glowing aspens, and the snow dusted spruce trees made for quite a show, and our faces hurt from smiling at so much beauty. 

We both love the history and culture of the southwest, and have had tremendous experiences exploring Ancestral Puebloan cliff dwellings in the past. The sites in Mesa Verde are busier, but still breathtaking and the concentration of sites is remarkable. There are over 600 cliff dwellings and 5000 archeological sites in the park. At one point today we stood atop the canyon and could see 12 different sets of cliff dwellings. Today we hiked through Long House, a 150 room cliff dwelling, with a ranger named Jan who was a retired archeologist. She was tremendous, sharing not just the basic facts of life on the mesa, but also the culture and oral history. Jan’s reverence for the Ancestral Puebloans and their ancestors that still reside within the cliff dwellings was greatly appreciated. 

Tomorrow we head into New Mexico to explore more new places.  It’s been an amazing 100 days and though it is not always easy or simple, we certainly consider every day a gift, assured each night before we drift off that we are incredibly fortunate to be on such a unique and exciting journey.

Fall in the Wasatch Range

Colorado National Monument's crazy road

Fall in Telluride

Balcony House, Mesa Verde

Step House, Mesa Verde

Late afternoon light at Long House

Rocks and Birds and Friends

The Minnie rocks like a boat as soon as the wind gets over 25mph. When we first moved in it was unnerving but has become kind of soothing, which is a good thing given how windy it has been here today. Some friends have a sheep ranch at the base of the mountains and have generously let us camp here for the weekend. It’s a beautiful place with no end of interesting things to see and do, but we’ve spent most of the weekend simply watching the northern harriers soar and dive.  We’ve never seen them in such huge numbers. They are majestic as they dive and glide among the hills and fields, making full use of the howling winds to move themselves along. 

Lisa has been focused on a consulting project this week so I’ve gotten to dust off my running shoes and explore.  I hadn’t driven the Minnie on my own yet, so I was nervous when I dropped her off on Thursday, but I couldn’t pass up a perfect fall day and the plethora of accessible trails in Sun Valley. I haven’t run much this summer, preferring to hike with Lisa. I ended up running the Fox Creek Loop, seven miles and 1000 feet of elevation gain, through meadows and forests along a river and several creeks. As I flew down one hill through a meadow, I was transported back to cross country races in college in New England; only the burning of my lungs in the thin 6000ft air and the snow-capped high peaks in the distance brought me back to this place. 

We’ve spent a lot of time in this part of Idaho, but have mostly stayed in the towns of the Wood River Valley, so its been nice to explore some different places on this trip. We spent a few nights camped among the sage and silence of Silver Creek. It was pouring rain most of our stay, but we’ve done a lot this summer so we were happy to slow down and be still for a of couple days. One night we simply sat in the dark and watched a distant storm for almost an hour. It was completely silent where we were, no thunder, but we could see sheets of lightning passing through the clouds. Total magic.

This morning we headed a few miles down the road from the ranch to explore the lava fields of Craters of the Moon National Monument. With the exception of the sage and limber pine trees, the landscape looks much like Hawaii, dotted with cinder cones and draped with miles of black basalt lava flows, some only 2500 years old. It was eerie and fascinating. 

Last week, some dear old friends kindly let us camp in their driveway while we were in town, and it was great to catch up with them. Their daughter was tremendously excited about the RV and asked if she could be our first overnight house guest! She was a fantastic first guest and now has designs on her parents acquiring one. We head back to town for tomorrow, as Lisa has two more days of work before we fly south like geese in search of warmer weather.

School started without me...

School started without me. It did. Last week. School started without me. I’m not there this year, at school, for only the second time in twenty-seven years. Twenty-seven years! 

A fellow educator asked me a few weeks ago if I was having the annual back to school dreams/nightmares/panic attacks, even though I am taking this year off. My answer was simple—no. I hadn’t even thought of those dreams until he asked the question. I am sleeping deeply through the night, no nightmares of any sort thankfully, and even taking naps on some days. 

Why, though, am I not at school this year? So many reasons, any one of which certainly suffices as an explanation: the loss of rent-controlled housing, the unsettling changes in The City, the ridiculous cost of living. These were all very important factors in our decision to leave San Francisco, to leave jobs and friends and community behind. 

Another reason, which I understand on a much deeper level now that it is September, is that I was tired, down to the marrow tired. Not burned out, thankfully. I have seen burn out—it’s so disconcerting and sad. I was just tired. I loved the work, the kids, the parents, and, I carried a heavy emotional load for the last ten years. That was so much of the work, to carry their worries, to take away their fears, to reassure them that all was well because all was well. Ten years in, 400 or so kids later, I knew somewhere deep in the recesses of my body that it was time to give myself a break. 

I’m not impulsive, at least not as much as I was when I was younger. I didn’t want to just take another job in some other place, to dive deep back into work, learning a new role and a new town and finding new community. I needed time. We needed time, to reconnect and relax and be restored. 

We also needed time to untie the knots that city life had tied throughout our bodies. There’s no better place for me toheal and grow than in nature, preferably the wild. Being in bear country much of the summer heightened my senses, pushed me to think differently about each step, to listen more intently to sounds around the trail. Few things fill me up more than standing among mountains, breathing the air, taking in the views, watching raptors soar. 

When this trip began, I spent the much of the first month anxious and worried, even panicked at times. I struggled to locate any sort of relaxed state. I was fearful and sad. Would I find another job? What would we do if I couldn’t find another job and place that I loved as much as Burke’s? How would we build a new community of beloved friends? In time, as the minutes and hours and days in nature increased, my worry dissipated. I found myself letting those fears go and trusting that at the end of this journey, we will be exactly where we are supposed to be. It was good to experience the struggle, and even better to move beyond the fear. 

The first time I took a break, after teaching high school for ten years, I had no idea where that year would take me. I spent that year in Sun Valley, Idaho. San Francisco as my future home was not even on my radar. Turns out, San Francisco was my future, and I am so glad that I got to call it home for fourteen years. When I remember this part of my past, I am reminded that if I just trust in the process and keep an open mind and heart as to what the future looks like, all will be well.

Change is a good thing. When I have made change in my life, forced or elected, I’ve always experienced tremendous growth, both personally and professionally. I knew it was time for change in my work life, time to shake things up, face new challenges, grow in ways I can’t yet imagine. We knew it was time for change in our city life, that it was time to reconnect to nature and to explore what lies beyond San Francisco. Turns out, it’s a big, big country, with lots to offer. We’re curious where we’ll be at the end and grateful that we get this time to walk more deliberately towards our future. 

Do I miss not being at school? Yes and no. What I don’t miss is working, for the time being. I do miss the girls, seeing them on the first day in their clean and crisp uniforms, palpable nerves and excitement. I miss the first graders, now second graders, harassing me to “do the ballet!” Long story. I miss the eager yet fearful faces of the seventh graders at the start of public speaking. I miss watching the eighth graders enter with so much anticipation, knowing that I would take care of them as best I could. I also miss the wonderful people that I worked with the last ten years. What an honor it was, to grow beside them, to share the awesome responsibility of educating those girls. Missing them, all of them, even the kindergartener I didn’t get to meet who would have eventually asked me if I was a boy or a girl, means that I honor them and thank them.

Did I make the wrong decision, to miss the first day of school? Absolutely not. I get to miss them and also know, deep in my reviving marrow, that I made a wise and necessary decision, to give myself the gift of time, to write and to think and to just be, with Alanna alongside, in the wild. 

Road Trip!

It’s all a road trip, I know. We love that we get to be spontaneous, and on Sunday, we bolted from the Tetons for a road trip within the road trip. Our buds Yancy, Brad and Bliss invited us to Island Park, Idaho for Labor Day Weekend. We hemmed and hawed about what we were going to do—go? stay? After confirming that the Minnie was in fact legal to stay at the house they were renting with friends, we hit the road at 6:30am Sunday.

The awesome part about this mini road trip is that our route took us back through Yellowstone! As we pulled out of the campground, a beautiful bull moose with a rack half-covered in velvet was enjoying his breakfast. We saw two more moose as we headed north, which made us incredibly happy because we had not seen any moose when we were in Yellowstone. Oh, did I forget to mention the massive bull that visited our campground the night before? Turns out, the campground stood between him and the river so he strolled right through, scaring the heck out of a couple of guys enjoying their PBRs by the campfire. 

Four hours later, we arrived in Island Park—a town that is 35 miles long. Kind of crazy. It was freezing! Nobody was out on the reservoir enjoying the last days of summer. Instead, we hung out inside and laughed for about ten straight hours. It was a wonderful twenty-four hours. We were in need of time with people that know us. The story of the Minnie and our life is an awesome one that we don't mind telling, yet, with new folks that we meet on the road, it can feel like we are telling the same story over and over again, because we are telling the same story over and over again. With Brad and Yancy, and Bliss, and their friends who are now our friends, the conversation was different and rich and thought-provoking and hilarious! 

Monday morning, then, we had a decision to make: return to the Tetons and hike some more or head towards Ketchum, Idaho to see dear friends from SF who would be traveling through. In need of more time with people that know us, we opted for Ketchum, though we took the long route. 

After an oil change (gotta keep the Minnie in tip top shape!) and some resupplying in Rexburg, we headed north towards Salmon, but stopped short because of the winter weather warnings issued for the area. We camped alongside Birch Creek, which provided us with an excellent soundtrack by which to fall asleep. The clouds drifted in and out occasionally parting so we could see the snow on the peaks. By this morning the storms had passed, and we lingered with our coffee and breakfast before we set off for Salmon, then down to Challis, eventually winding up in Stanley, one of my favorite places on this planet. Alanna declared the drive the prettiest we had done to date, especially from Salmon south as the road follows the almighty Salmon River through stunning peaks of volcanic rock. We stopped to play for a bit in the hot springs in Sunbeam, which gave our feet a much needed soak. Come to find out, reflexology is hard to find outside the City, so we’ve been suffering! 

Tonight, we are camped near Stanley Lake, with the awe-inspiring Sawtooth Mountains as our backdrop. We tent camped in this area over a decade ago and it was a cold rainy miserable experience, for Alanna, who was new to camping. It was years before she would even consider camping again. Thanks goodness for the Minnie and her heater. 

Tomorrow, we’ll follow the Salmon to its headwaters then head over the Galena summit and drop into Ketchum. We have other friends in the Wood River Valley as well, so we plan to spend some good time here catching up with everyone, and doing a little bit of work. More on that later.

When you're as big as this moose you don't have to worry about walking through a campground... Everyone will jump out of your way and then try to take a picture.

Autumn Arrives

We are back in the land of dirty humans and boy does that make us happy.  Yellowstone definitely won the award for cleanest humans in a national park, so we are happy to be back amongst our grubby hiking brethren in Grand Teton National Park.  

Fall is arriving here in the high country of the northern range.  The leaves are turning and the animals are stocking up for winter. Tuesday found us hiking around Jenny Lake up to Inspiration Point. We paused for a long time to watch two fledgling osprey and their mom perching in snags and soaring before settling back in their nest. It’s wonderful to have time to pause and watch and marvel. 

When in the Tetons, it’s easy to focus solely on the soaring peaks. The park, though, is so much more than these stunning mountains. Much of the flat land in Grand Teton was donated to the NPS by the Rockefeller family; 35,000 acres in total, including its newest piece, the Laurance S. Rockefeller Preserve. This preserve was the family’s ranch for decades until Mr. Rockefeller donated it to the NPS and oversaw its conversion to an extraordinary place to commune with the land.  Like his father before him, Laurance Rockefeller understood the renewal of the spirit that takes place while in nature and the importance of places like GTNP for the public. Sadly, the Minnie isn’t allowed to drive to the preserve, so we were disappointed we would not get to explore it, until fate and our new friend Liz, stepped in. A fellow traveler on her last day in the area before heading home, she offered to drive and we’d explore the preserve as a group. 

Our adventure began as we pulled up to an animal jam caused by a momma black bear gorging on black hawthorn berries while her two cubs played up in a tree. She was just a few feet from the road and completely uninterested in the gawking humans, preferring instead to focus on her berries and gaining calories for the coming winter. 

Once in the preserve, we hiked the Phelps Lake trail, pausing frequently to stare at the water and the changing views of the mountains. On the far side of the lake we spotted a bull moose browsing in the willows. He was a reasonable enough distance away that we could watch him for a spell before continuing on our way. 

The trails in the preserve were designed to be meditative, slowly drawing you through all the varied landscapes of the area. We felt it—this was a place not just to push our bodies but to renew our minds. Each time we paused the silence that enveloped us was remarkable.  A brief afternoon thunderstorm capped off our hike. We are incredibly grateful for Liz’s generosity and that we got to spend the day with her, chatting and laughing on this beautiful and serene piece of land. It was truly a highlight of our visit here. 

We’ve walked through our hiking boots and are having some struggles in trying to replace them, so as we set off yesterday to hike Paintbrush Canyon we weren’t sure how far we’d go on this glorious morning.  The trail had been described to us as flat, but was actually what we’ve taken to calling “Wyoming flat,” climbing 1500+ feet in just a couple miles into a granite canyon.  The Tetons are the youngest range in the Rocky Mountains, but are made up of some of the oldest rocks in North America. They are steep, with no foothills, so you go from valley floor to mountainside quickly.  

The quartz flecks in the grey and white granite sparkled in the sun, while patches of huckleberry bushes glowed red. The quaking aspens were beginning to turn gold and we shared the trail with backpackers as well as pika caching branches for winter. We reached a boulder-strewn clearing with a waterfall that stretched a few hundred feet above and decided that was enough for the day, and began our descent back into the valley, arriving at the Minnie just as it began to pour. 

Today, Saturday, we are giving our bodies a break, especially our feet. We are missing the reflexology so readily available to us in San Francisco! It’s time to catch up on email, read and sit in the sunshine. We hope you all have restorative weekends as well, perhaps finding time for your own walk in the wild, wherever that may be.

Wyoming flat going up!

Aspens turning on a glacial erratic

Wyoming flat going down...

And we wander on...

It’s Sunday night, nearing 8pm, and the sun is setting beyond the lodgepole pines. Bright blue sky directly above mixes with cottony clouds. Just clouds, no smoke tonight. The wind blew the right way for us to have clear skies. When we got back to camp around 3:30, the air was fairly thick with smoke. It’s good to sit here and breath in the fresh Yellowstone air, to feel the cool breeze picking up, hoping that it doesn’t get too far into the 30s tonight. 

We’ve had a wonderful nine day run in Yellowstone, and now it is time to move on. What I am most grateful for is the opportunity to make memories in this park with Alanna. It’s not just mine anymore, but ours. 

Today, we hiked up to Mt. Washburn, which is over 10,000 feet in elevation. On a clear day, you can see the Tetons, but not today. Too much smoke all around from the multiple fires burning in the park. This particular hike was led by a ranger. I thought Alanna was going to scream with joy when he announced he was a retired geology professor. Instead, she gave a little leap and then peppered him with questions for the next five hours. Since our trip to southern Utah, she has been deeply intrigued by geology but this was the first time we were hiking with an actual geologist. Heaven in Yellowstone! 

In spite of the smoke, the rim of the caldera was still visible. Fascinating to think about the ancient yet active volcano that formed this landscape. The Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone was also visible, an absolute geologic wonder of this park. During this trip, we had the good fortune of standing on the rim, hiking to the bottom of the canyon and then today, seeing it from elevation. We are fortunate, no doubt. 

For the last nine nights, we camped at Indian Creek, which is between Norris and Mammoth. It’s a smaller campground and quiet. The sites are not on top of one another. We’ve opted to stay here for these reasons, and it has meant a bit more driving. We got on the road a little after six this morning to get to the trailhead early—we fear being late in these situations. The good part about driving your house around is that you can drive in your pajamas if you like, and then open the fridge and have breakfast in the parking lot. It’s ideal! 

On the way, to Dunraven Pass, we saw two small herds of elk, quite a few deer, and one coyote trotting down the middle of the road. He looked back and saw us, kept ambling along, and then when he came to a pull out, he graciously yielded the road. It was a moment. The elk in that part of the park signal that fall is on the way. They are returning from the green grasses of the high country to rut. Though we have not heard them bugling yet, we hope to before we leave elk country for good. 

Every day, I am grounded in gratitude for all that we are experiencing, and for our wise decision to embark on this trip. It’s been such a good long time since I’ve been in Yellowstone at this time of year. It’s good to be in it, to feel the park once again and also to let it go and move on.

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Happy Birthday NPS!

Happy 100th birthday National Park Service! Alanna and I feel so fortunate to be celebrating this event in Yellowstone National Park, which was designated as a park in 1872, well before the formation of the NPS, perhaps the one good thing that US Grant did in his presidency! 

Yellowstone is what I think of as my home park, as this is the park in which I have spent the most time. Granted, it has been around twenty years since I have been here, but during college and my early twenties, I spent a great deal of time grounded in the wonder of this park. When I lived in Cody, I used to take day trips into the park, maybe just to sit at the lake for a few hours or to walk amongst the geysers, marveling at their power and beauty. 

I've had some funny misadventures here, too. One summer, a buddy was working at the lodge at Old Faithful, so a few of us came up to visit. At some point, my car keys disappeared, but that did not deter us from an overnight backcountry excursion to Shoshone Lake. I don't recall that we were super well prepared, yet we were wise enough to string up our food so that any bears poking around in the night would be forced to move along, hopefully. The next day, we hiked out to the south entrance road and then hitched a ride back north. A cute family picked us up in their minivan and we had a mini-vacation on the way back, stopping at a number of sites on the way. It was hilarious and very indicative of the craziness of our age. 

Today, Alanna and I move into the backcountry very well-prepared and we are creating our own incredible memories in this place that I love. We did the hardest descent of our lives down the 7-Mile Hole Trail into the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone and sat to eat lunch by the river while an osprey fished overhead. In this park that gets 4.2 million visitors a year, mostly in the summer, we were alone, with the roar of water and wind and the magical shifting light on the walls of this canyon Thomas Moran made so famous. 

On Tuesday, we got up before the sun and drove to Fountain Flat Drive where we had breakfast while watching bison graze by the Firehole River. Mountain bluebirds, both male and female, flitted about. It's thrilling to watch the residents of the park wake up and start their day! Once the sun was high enough, we hit the trail to Fairy Falls by way of Goose Lake. Our bison friends had moved up to rest on the trail so we had to head off trail a bit to create a safe distance between us. While we enjoyed Fairy Falls, we were mesmerized when we got to Imperial Geyser. Just one other person was out there, as opposed to the throngs on the boardwalks at the popular spots. We sat and ate a snack while the geyser erupted and talked about how grateful we are to be doing this trip. The way back was through a wide-open plateau with bison in the distance and raptors soaring well above our heads as well as close to the ground. One rather immense bison was taking his afternoon nap ten feet off the trail, which once again created an interesting detour for us.

After dinner on Tuesday, we headed into Mammoth to get a cell connection and watch the elk lounging about on the lawn. One little one playfully romped and rolled and then darted for his mother for a refill. I was dismayed as we were driving out when we came across a group of people mixing in way too closely to about five or six elk. One woman had her hand out to an elk and a man held a tiny baby up for a picture with an elk right behind him. We prefer to watch and wonder from a respectful and safe distance. 

It never ceases to amaze me when people think a place like Yellowstone is a petting zoo rather than a wild place. Perhaps it's because there is a cell connection in Mammoth or maybe it's because elk have historically enjoyed the lawns of Mammoth, both for nourishment and for safety. This is a wild place, tour busses aside, and while we are enjoying seeing all of the popular sites, usually early in the morning before the mass of humanity descends, we are happiest on the trail as this is where we find peace and the beauty unseen by most. 

On the way back to camp from Mammoth, we stopped at Swan Lake Flat, just to sit and watch and listen. The sun was setting, the trumpeter swans were swimming in the lake, choppers were flying overhead fighting the fires, and then there came an unfamiliar and unusual sound. A very large bird was flying fast and low to the ground. We watched as it landed in a grassy field not far from us and began to feed. It was a sandhill crane, which we have seen before but never heard. By sitting and listening and watching, we end up with gifts like the crane. We know we are fortunate to have this time. 

At midnight, I woke to a long howl which I quickly realized was not the familiar coyote. A wolf was making itself known somewhere to the south of us. I opened the window next to the bed and lay there, thrilled beyond words. Alanna was awake at that point and we listened until the calls faded in the distance, amazed at our good fortune. Though we have not seen a wolf yet, it was a thrill to hear this one's beautiful song. 

These are the gifts provided by the National Park Service. They preserve and protect our wild places, maintain healthy and natural ecosystems and allow folks like us to have splendid adventures. I can live with the crowds in parks like Yellowstone so long as I can hit the trail, surrounded only by the sounds that wild lands produce. Thank you NPS! Happy Birthday!

Imperial Geyser

Yellowstone!

We made it to Yellowstone!!! Its my first time here and Lisa is very excited to show me around.  If you're reading this, you are probably familiar with our immense fondness for public lands, so we are really happy that we will get to celebrate the National Park Service Centennial on August 25  in our country's first national park.  There are over 400 NPS sites in the US, so we hope that you find one near you to join the celebration. We are off to hike into the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, and have some slides of our adventures thus far in this geothermal wonderland.

Mammoth Hot Springs

Echinus Geyser

Orange Spring Mound

Artist's Paintpots

Zygogonium algae

Firehole River

Montana Meandering

We’ve spent the last week wandering through western Montana, unwinding from our hike-filled days in Glacier. We spent a couple of days exploring the Flathead National Forest along the Swan River corridor and then headed south to see a friend in Missoula. 

After leaving Glacier we restocked in Kalispell and poked around in the charming town of Whitefish. Evening found us camped at Tally Lake, a glacier-carved lake set in a forest of western red cedar. The rain paused long enough for us to walk around after dinner and read the signs about the common loon posted around the lake.  As we stood on the beach looking at the mist-covered hills a loon began calling, far away at first, then flying directly overhead.  We feel fortunate to have heard them in several different places, because it turns out they are rare in Montana, only 60 nesting pairs. 

After several days of big storms and cool temperatures Friday broke warm and sunny.  We were dispersed camping along the Swan River and drank our coffee while listening to a raptor call out from the pines above our heads. It was peaceful and we decided to stay for a couple days to relax and sleep in, filling our days with reading, wandering and camp chores. 

On Saturday, we drove a few miles to Holland Lake to hike some highly recommended trails. Unfortunately, we followed the wrong trail and accidentally hiked 10.5 miles very steep miles. It’s amazing that we can now hike that far without batting an eye. 

Once we reached the top of the mountain, we turned on our cell phones to see if we could get any service—we had been completely disconnected for a number of days. We were in luck and texted our buddy Phoebe in Missoula to see if she was up for visitors. The Minnie has now been parked in front of Phoebe’s for three days, and we have absolutely loved exploring this super cool town…

Oh, Missoula, why do you have to have winter? If it wasn’t for your months of snow and cold, we just might be able to say we’ve found our new home. This is a special town and in a few short days, we’ve grown quite fond, but real winters are a deal breaker for us. We want everything this town has to offer except for that one multi-month issue. 

We’ve loved the quaint neighborhoods, eclectic mix of architectural styles and adorable homes. The downtown is vibrant with the old and new blending nicely. We’ve been through too many towns that have downtowns on life-support with all the action happening on the big-box fringe.

The Good Food Store! This store is indicative of a positive food culture in Missoula, which has four farmer’s markets on Saturday alone, in a town of just over 70,000! They take eating local and organic seriously and we were happy to partake in the fresh vegetable offerings that have been so lacking in our travels these last two months.  

We’ve seen plenty of gay peeps, which makes us happy, including the woman at the butcher counter at the Good Food Store who had a buzz cut similar to Alanna’s! We are not an anomaly in Missoula, thank goodness! 

Yesterday, after a quick fifteen minute drive from Phoebe’s, we were hiking in the Rattlesnake National Recreation Area. Missoula offers extensive hiking trails both in and out of the city, and of course, world class rivers. We want, actually we need, such easy access to the outdoors in our next home

Of course, what made Missoula really special was spending such good time with our friend Phoebe. She’s been an incredible host and her love for this town is part of the appeal. Oh, Missoula, why must you insist on this whole winter business?!! 

50 & 51

Day 50: Epic with a side of overcast! This day was our last day in Glacier National Park, so we planned to do the hike up to Scenic Point with a ranger named Pat, whose reputation for humor preceded him. We woke up to very cloudy skies, checked the forecast at the information board, packed rain gear and sandwiches then headed for the trailhead. The group was about twenty-five and after a short side trip to some falls, we headed up and up and up! To get scenic, we had to get elevation. It was worth the climb since much of the view was back over Two Medicine Lake and the surrounding mountains. At one spot, we could look down and see the Minnie in the parking lot 2000 feet below! Eventually, we climbed into the clouds which then seemed to part as we reached the tip top of the point, and then the blustery wind disappeared as everyone ate lunch. We could see the town of East Glacier as well as the entire Two Medicine valley. Alanna and I were thrilled, in spite of the clouds, to have such a wonderful last hike in GNP. 

On the way down, two interesting things happened. First, there was a spirited conversation about the hike up and over Siyeh Pass. We had not done that one, so we were very curious. Ranger Pat proclaimed it his favorite and a fellow hiker who spends the better part of the summer in the park had already done it three times this year. We were now even more curious. If you are curious how this part of the story ends, you’ll need to skip ahead to Day 51, but if you can be patient, another extraordinary thing happened on our descent! 

About two-thirds of the way down, we passed an elderly woman sitting under a tree eating a sandwich. Ranger Pat knew her and they talked as we passed. A little ways down the trail, a hiker asked Pat who she was, and he replied, Alice Kehoe. I then brought the group to an immediate halt and exclaimed, “Alice Kehoe! The Alice Kehoe?!!” My guess is that most of you are scratching your heads and saying who the heck is Alice Kehoe. Turns out, the rest of the group was in your shoes, and Pat was astonished that I knew of her—this was a first for him. 

Alice Kehoe is a world-renowned anthropologist who studies American Indian culture, specifically the Blackfeet. I was incredibly lucky, back in 2000, to study with Dr. Kehoe at Marquette University as part of a National Endowment for the Humanities summer seminar. Five weeks studying American Indians with Alice Kehoe! For those of you that don’t know, I taught American History as well as humanities for quite some time, and I have a MA in history. My thesis was on the Nez Perce tribe and how education was used in the forced assimilation process. This may all be too much information, but it does explain why I was so ecstatic to learn it was her on the trail. 

Pat, being a stand up guy, brought her by our campsite a few hours later when she was back from her hike. Dr. Kehoe remembered me!!!! We spent over an hour talking about the seminar and what various participants are up to today as well as a variety of other academic and Indian related topics. On board the Minnie, I actually have a bracelet that I bought at the pow wow we went to as part of the seminar. We traded contact information and though it had started to rain, Dr. Kehoe insisted she would walk across camp to her site. When we were chatting with the campground host later, we learned that Dr. Kehoe is now in her late 80s, and still comes every summer for a month or so since this is Blackfeet country. She is amazing! And, she was getting ready to head to Japan once she got home to attend a conference. I can only hope I have such energy and drive at that age. What a day!!!!

Day 51: We stayed in Glacier one more day! The beauty of our life right now is that we don’t have to be anywhere and after hearing about the Siyeh Pass hike, recognizing we had one good day of weather on Monday before a series of storms rolled in, we opted for one more day and one more hike. Superb decision! The hike was an epic ten plus miles. Visually stunning—this is the phrase I kept coming back to as we walked up and down dozens of switchbacks pausing every few minutes to look around. I am not confident that I can do it justice with words; you have to come to Glacier and do this hike. That said, here’s a few tidbits: tight switchbacks up a scree field, views of the Sexton and Piegan glaciers, more wildflowers (!!!!), bighorn sheep, multiple glacial carved valleys, a burn scar from last summer that smelled like a fireplace, and mammoth waterfalls. It went on and on with every step. We agreed that it was a fitting end to our now eleven day stay. 

Glacier has been good for our bodies and our souls. We needed this time, in this peaceful setting, and though we will in fact move on tomorrow, we know we are coming back. After all, there are 700 miles of trails available in this park, and we’ve only hiked 75 miles of them! Glacier has permanently implanted itself deep within us both, and we are incredibly grateful to have had the time and the energy and the curiosity to immerse ourselves in this most wonderful spot in the world.

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Ice and Fire

Glacier is a park carved by the prodigious ice of the Pleistocene and protected today because of the newer glaciers that formed here during the Little Ice Age (1300-1850). These glaciers won’t be around much longer; of the 150 originally found in the park there are only 25 left and those are expected to vanish between 2020 and 2030.  

We were fortunate to hike to Grinnell Glacier with an interpretive ranger named Bob.  This is Bob’s 50th summer working as a ranger in Glacier, and we were thrilled to be able to listen to his stories and pepper him with questions about the geology and ecology of the park.  He showed us where the edge of Grinnell Glacier was in his first summer in 1966, which is difficult for him to fathom given that Grinnell has retreated almost a mile since then, leaving bare rock and the ever expanding Upper Grinnell Lake. Bob also explained how he used to be able to take visitors onto the glacier, but given its precarious state, that is no longer safe. 

The melting of the glaciers here is a consequence of our warming world and this place is especially vulnerable.  The local mean summer temperatures in northern Montana have increased 3 degrees compared to 1.5 in the rest of the country.  Bob made it clear that the glaciers in this park can’t be saved, but if we change our behaviors perhaps the glaciers elsewhere can be, and saving glaciers matters because worldwide over 50% of our drinking and irrigation water is derived from glaciers. We feel fortunate to have stood at the foot of Grinnell, to have seen not just the beauty but the dramatic change, knowing it will soon be gone. The absence of the glaciers will be an incredible loss to this park, and in their absence, there will still be much to learn and so much to do. 

Though we didn’t really know what to expect when we arrived in Glacier, we certainly didn’texpect the extraordinary colors. The mountains and rocks are striped with red and green argillite and grey limestone remnants of the ancient Belt Sea, the lakes and streams are brilliant navy blue or cloudy turquoise from glacial flour, and wildflowers of every shade pepper the alpine meadows and fire scars. The ever-changing colors have found us stopping frequently on the trail, to marvel at a shade of rock we have never seen before or doing a slow 360 taking in all of the flowers. This place is surreal and food for the soul. 

It’s Saturday, and our legs and feet are resting today; we’ve hiked over 50 miles in the last six days. They say at its core Glacier is a hiker’s park, which makes sense given that there are over 700 miles of trails. We’ve experienced firsthand how spectacularly the park lives up to this core. Most of the hikes here are long and we weren’t sure what we were capable of because we’d never done a hike over nine miles before getting here.  Now we’ve done four long hikes in a week, all of them spectacular!  In most places we have visited thus far, the longer trails are empty, but not in Glacier.  We have loved seeing people of all fitness levels and ages, even tiny kids, out on these huge hikes. 

One of our favorite hikes was a trek to Iceberg Lake on Thursday. We’ve never seen anything like it;  the lake freezes solid in the winter and by midsummer the ice has broken up into dozens of icebergs floating on cobalt blue water.  The water was numbingly cold but a perfect place to dip trail weary feet. 

Friday found us on the Highline trail to the Granite Park Chalet, a backcountry inn built by the Great Northern Railroad that is on the National Register of Historic Places. The Highline trail is narrow and etched into the side of the Garden Wall, a skinny ridge of mountain.  It’s surrounded by alpine meadows with views of towering peaks and valleys carved by the Pleistocene glaciers. After a picnic lunch at the chalet, we descended through the scar of the 2003 Trapper Fire. The fire narrowly missed the chalet, and burned so hot that the trees will take decades to recover. The trail down was steep, 2500 feet in just four miles, with the temperature climbing with every switchback. The burned trees stood like ghostly sentinels over the small shrubs and wildflowers that have regrown, a reminder that forests do need fire as part of their regeneration process,and that there is beauty in the wake of such destructive forces. 

Glacier has been a terrific stop for us—ten days in all. On Monday, we will head west to see what is on the other side of the park, which will set us on a meandering route to Yellowstone, where we hope to arrive sometime around Labor Day. 

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Rocks once covered by Grinnell Glacier

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Remnants of the Trapper Fire

Alpine Wonderland

Glacier National Park is spectacular! We arrived on Friday, very early, having learned the day before that the scramble for first come, first served campsites was an intense one. Glacier’s popularity has boomed dramatically in the last few years, so these sites often fill up between 8am and 9am. We arrived in the Two Medicine Campground around 7:30 and felt the anxious frenzy almost immediately. Fortunately, we were able to secure an excellent site, and the campground host advised us to stay put and use this as our base for exploring the entire park. Excellent advice! 

We have been here for six nights and expect to stay longer, knowing our limit, sadly, is fourteen. The NPS imposed limit is understandable; I’m sure many people would gladly come and stay the summer! 

At first, being in such heavily populated bear country was highly intimidating, and while it still definitely makes us nervous, we are more at ease hiking now because we started our hiking here with a ranger led hike to Cobalt Lake. It was a great way to break into hiking in Glacier, especially since only three other people joined us, and our ranger, Lynne, was incredibly knowledgable and more than willing to carry on a spirited conversation with Alanna, answering all of her questions. The hike itself, all 12 miles of it, was amazing. We moved through a number of different vegetation zones, reaching alpine near the lake, and we saw wildflowers like we had never seen before. Nothing like standing on rocks in the middle of a stream, surrounded by bright pink Lewis Monkey Flower on every side and as far as the eye can see. We are fortunate to be here at a time when the flowers are in peak bloom. 

When we reached the lake, we met a hoary marmot, quite fat and quite unafraid. He was busy trying to eat his way into the outhouse, which we desperately needed to utilize. Apparently, these critters love the salt in urine, so they munch through the wooden structure to get inside. They keep the backcountry rangers very busy, fighting the pit toilet-hoary marmot battle!

The next day, we headed up Going to the Sun Road via the shuttle system. The Minnie is too big to travel that road, which was fine with me as it allowed me to fully take in the views, which is tough to do behind the wheel. St. Mary’s Lake, nine miles long, was gorgeous, as was every mountain peak, valley and meadow we passed. Once we reached Logan Pass, our systems went into shock. There were more people in one place than we had seen since leaving San Francisco. We spent a short time looking over the exhibits in the visitor’s center and then headed out the Highline Trail. We didn’t cover a great distance, only hiking for an hour or so, though we loved the views and the possibility of hiking to the chalet on another day. 

We eventually made our way down to the west side, going as far as Lake McDonald Lodge. Again, tons of people, many more than were at the top. The west side is certainly the busier side of the park. We ate our PB&J sandwiches by the lake, then began the arduous journey back to St. Mary’s.  Arduous because the shuttle system is not efficient or equipped to deal with the increased crowds heading east, and people were getting cranky and trying to cut in line. Felt like MUNI all over again! 

The next day found us on a ranger led hike to Grinnell Glacier. I will write more about that one in the next post as I think the glaciers deserve their own space in this blog. What I can say is that we hiked the better part of the way down with a couple from Redondo Beach and got to share with them the experience of a very close and displeased moose on the trail! They were so much fun to chat with, and they kindly gifted us their can of bear spray when we boarded the boat to take us back across the lake. Bear spray can’t go on an airplane and they were heading home the next day. We are grateful to be meeting such wonderful people on the trail and in camp, and to be seeing such spectacular places and wildlife.

Lastly some slides of this amazing place.

Grinnell Lake

Daybreak over Two Medicine Lake

Grinnell Glacier & Upper Grinnell Lake

Mountain Goat

Hoary Marmot

Why you never throw trash in your fire pit...

A very unhappy moose

Driving Days...

We've been traversing northern Montana en route to Glacier National Park.  The long distances can be hard, especially since Lisa does all the driving, and I can't stand sitting for long periods, but we make lots of detours and had some interesting stops along the way, especially yesterday. Our first stop was Fort Union Trading Post National Historic Site, a beautiful reconstruction of an old fur trading post on the Missouri River. It provided much fodder for our nerdy history loving brains, and included two park rangers in full period dress. After a walk to the confluence on the Yellowstone and Missouri Rivers we got back on the road and headed into Montana.

The rangers at Fort Union recommended we stop at the Fort Peck Dam Interpretive Center as well, so after a few hours of driving and 12 miles of "highway" stripped of its pavement (with no warning signs) we got to check out the massive earthen dam constructed by the WPA in the 1930's. The interpretive center had great exhibits on the dinosaurs and ancient marine life of the area as well as the history of the dam project.

More driving led us to Sleeping Buffalo Hot Springs Resort for a couple of hours of much needed soaking and a long chat with some fellow full-time RVers on a journey similar to ours. After some delightful observations of a burrowing owl while looking for camping, and a night spent indoors due to thick clouds of mosquitos, we headed south to the Charles M. Russell National Wildlife Refuge.  It's rugged country and there are only a few roads suitable for the Minnie so we poked around for a bit hoping for some fun wildlife sightings but were ultimately unsuccessful.

After the refuge, we headed to Lewiston, hopeful, based upon guidebooks, to see some interesting art and a bustling small town. Alas. The potential is definitely there, yet too many storefronts were shuttered and the art, which is plentiful, just did not grab us. The drive through beef and grain country to Great Falls was lovely. We pushed on from Great Falls as we need to be in striking distance of Glacier National Park if we have any chance of getting camping in the park. 

As the sun sets on one side of the Minnie, a wonderful rainbow lights up the other side, and the gentle rain is making us sleepy.

We have no idea what was growing in this field off Highway 2, but it glowed like no plant we've ever seen.

The Hour of Land

The Hour of Land. Alanna and I were fortunate to be gifted this book by Terry Tempest Williams just prior to our departure from San Francisco. By the end of the third week, we had each read it and been deeply moved by her thoughts, wisdom and call to action. We felt doubly fortunate to have heard her speak on July 24 at Theodore Roosevelt National Park, the park which she says is the heart of her book. She spoke to a full house of like-minded folks, meaning people who, like her, care deeply about the wild places in the US and who mean to see them protected and preserved for future generations.

This park is aptly named. Theodore Roosevelt credited his time in North Dakota with shaping him into a conservationist, and as President of the United States, he did more for preserving our wild places than any other president before or since. In total, TR set aside, “150 national forests, 51 federal bird preserves, 4 federal wildlife preserves, 18 national monuments, and 5 national parks, 230 million acres in all” (The Hour of Land, 81). This, the land we have been traversing and resting our heads upon each night for the last five, is the land that gave birth to our modern conservation movement. Most assuredly, our time in North Dakota will have its own lasting impact in shaping the rest of our trip and perhaps our lives beyond.

Thank goodness we came to North Dakota, the first time here for each of us. We have been moved by these badlands, which look unlike any we have ever seen. Harsh yet beautiful rock interspersed with luscious grasses, rolling hills, ample trees and the Little Missouri River. We didn’t expect this, nor did we expect to be so moved by our walks through both units of the park. Though we were thwarted one day by a bison who seemed to have staked his claim to the trail we had just begun to hike, and were startled on two separate days by rattlesnakes, our walks have been quiet ones, save for the trilling of meadowlarks and the sound of the breeze through the cottonwoods. 

Tempest Williams spoke of our National Parks as places of peace, perhaps the last and only such places we have in the United States. When Alanna and I decided to take this year to renew ourselves, our plan immediately took shape around these parks and other federal land holdings. These were the places, we instinctively knew, which would allow us to shake off city life and begin the inward and outward search for our new home. This is where we expect to gain clarity. On the trail is where we have some of our best talks and our most powerful silences. 

The outdoors has always been where I have found my center, whether it was running through the field that lay behind our house as a kid, hunting pheasant with my father, hiking Vedauwoo outside Laramie, or spending time in Yellowstone and Grand Teton as a college student. Alanna, being from the urban east, only learned of the solace found outdoors as an adult.  In the west’s rocks and big skies she learned that she too had a place in the wilderness.

This could all disappear though. Soon. Tempest Williams spoke about the planks in the Republican Party platform that deal with the dismantling of all federal lands—our wild places. Alanna and I were curious so we read for ourselves this morning. It is alarming to think that the lands that have been protected for so many generations could shortly be turned over to “individuals”—read energy and timber companies—so that the land can be used for “economic opportunity.” I am frightened for what may lie ahead. 

Though we read about the oil production in the Bakken in The Hour of Land, it was too abstract and distant until we saw for ourselves the ways in which the energy companies are setting up shop adjacent to Theodore Roosevelt National Park. I had never heard the term view shed, nor understood its importance until I stood atop Buck Hill in the south unit of the park and saw oil derricks pumping away just outside the park’s boundary. “Its harder for people to understand a native ecosystem when they are surrounded by human encroachment.”  This was Alanna’s response to the vital importance of an uninterrupted view shed. I have no doubt that if they could, these companies would be pumping away in the campground in which I currently sit if given the green light.

In our drive up to the north unit today, just 50 odd miles up on state highway 85, we lost count of the number of oil and fracking trucks on the road and we lost count of the number of wells. It is startling to be driving next to a luscious field of golden barley, top a hill, only to see a huge field of crushed red rock atop which sits oil wells and massive containment units. It was also startling to drive past a herd of a few hundred buffalo today and see in the near distance what looked like a fire—yikes!—only to realize it was a well burning off natural gas, the flame of which shot ten feet or more into the air, with smoke that was visible for many miles. The impact on view, air quality, water quality, and quality of life is just not quantifiable. 

There is no way I would have understood the peril that our parks and federal lands are in if we were still living in San Francisco. No doubt we would have picked up The Hour of Land because we are interested, but we would not have felt it the way we do now, and we feel it even more deeply after listening to the lyrical way in which Terry brought it to life through her reading last night.  

We all have a part to play in saving our National Parks. Yes, saving! First, make sure that you visit one! And don’t just do a drive by—get out and hike and explore and talk to rangers and other visitors. Read the Republican Party platform so that you can more clearly understand the gravity of the situation. Write to your elected officials as well as those who head up the various agencies related to the stewardship of our lands. And, buy The Hour of Land, read it, and seek out Terry Tempest Williams when she is speaking. I have no doubt that you, too, will be deeply affected.

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The bison thwarting our hike

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Lisa's leap into lignite

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Hills of the north unit

Dakotas

Just a quick slideshow today of this land of amazing sunsets, rugged badlands, and incredible wildlife.

And Then a Buffalo Came to Breakfast...

It’s 102 degrees outside right now, and I am sitting outside. It’s hot!!! This is not the focus of the post, though it’s good context, at least in my warm mind. 

This is our fourth day in Badlands National Park in South Dakota. I’ve driven by it a number of times (it’s south of I-90) but never stopped. It’s well worth the time. We rather enjoy the stark beauty of badlands, and while these aren’t as colorful as others we’ve encountered their scale is unbelievable.

Our first two nights were spent at Sage Creek, which is a designated camping area seemingly without any rules or regs or park service personnel. First come, first to snag a picnic table, then it’s a battle for every inch of grass! When we pulled in, an old-timer named Jerry from San Diego came out of his new Sprinter to greet us. He spends at least a week in the Badlands every year. Funny old guy. He was in the process of outfitting his new rig, sewing a bed or something. We didn’t see much of him after that. I love the characters out here, but then I guess we’re part of the character landscape as well. 

We were also welcomed by two-striped grasshoppers occupying every other blade of grass! I have no idea when the last time was that I saw a grasshopper, let alone so darn many. When I looked down at the ground, it seemed to be moving in a mysterious way and when I’d walk through the grass, they’d hop and fly in every direction. They were fascinating and entertaining.

As dusk settled in on the first night, a buffalo came wandering by on the other side of camp. People grabbed their cameras and run-walked towards it. We watched with our binoculars. I am always surprised when people seem to lose all of their senses when an animal appears, forgetting that they are in the wild rather than a zoo, and approach wildlife so closely. Great photo for Facebook, maybe. Or fodder for Facebook if you are gored! He ambled on by and went into the hills for the night. 

The next morning, we were sitting out at our picnic table, eating cereal and talking about the coyotes we heard close to camp in the wee hours of the morning when all of a sudden, not twenty feet away, a buffalo ambled out from behind the Minnie. Stunned, I looked over at Alanna who also had a look of wild astonishment on her face. We didn’t say anything, just looked back at the bison who was looking at us. Then Alanna crept to the RV, five feet away, grabbed her camera and got a decent shot. It was really exciting, and a little scary. Glad he was just doing his own thing and could have cared less about us! 

We did some hiking out in the Sage Creek Wilderness Area, but kept it limited. There are no designated trails and once a buffalo trail runs out, we were pretty much bushwhacking, and looking out for rattlesnakes. 

After two peaceful nights at Sage Creek, we headed up to Cedar Pass, the developed campground so that we could hike the trails around this end of the park.We hit the trail early this morning, 7:30 am, in order to do a longer hike on the Castle Trail.  We know enough to know that in this heat, I melt, and quickly. I’m glad we got up—the hike was an excellent one, and true to its name, it looked and felt like we were walking through drip sand castles. I was glad we finished before eleven—the last 30 minutes were a slog for me. Did I mention it’s over 100 degrees out? Thank goodness, no humidity.

To combat the heat, we drove to Wall. Yes, we went to Wall Drug, a bastion of tourist-trap Americana, that’s advertised for a hundred miles. Finally, Wall Drug. Never again. Too many people. Too many trinkets. And mediocre ice cream. The bulk of our time in town was spent in the Buffalo Gap National Grasslands Visitor’s Center (air-conditioned!). During our hike this morning, we became more interested in learning about the grasslands as we spent part of our time walking through Buffalo Gap. Good stuff and really nice people working for the Forest Service. I was bummed, though, that the Wounded Knee Museum was closed for the season. This was one I’d been looking forward to for the last few weeks. 

Now, I sit, and read, and nap, and towel off. We are not, as of yet, generator running folks who want to sit inside with the AC running. That could change. One never knows. I doubt it though. We are enjoying being out, even in 100 degree weather. 

10 and 1 and 101.4

101.4 isn’t a radio station. Well, I am sure it is a radio station somewhere in America, but in our case, it refers to the number of miles we hiked since we set out on this trip. After hiking all the trails associated with Devil’s Tower, this is the number, and though it does not equal the 126 that we racked up in a month last summer, I feel good about this number. We’ve pushed ourselves a little, and we’ve also listened to our bodies and looked for shorter distances when either one of us, or both of us, needed a break. 

Friday morning we did 4.9 miles, from the campground, up part of the Red Beds trail (the entirety of which we did yesterday), and then up to the Joyner Ridge Trail. We saw fewer than ten people even though thousands visit this monument each day. Though there are not a ton of trails in Devil’s Tower, once you leave the visitor’s center and the paved loop trail around the base of the tower, it’s quiet. While I welcome the solitude, it bums me out that so many people are missing out. 

Come Sunday, it will be one month since we hit the road—that’s the one in the title. It has gone fast thus far! The Minnie has logged some miles, and we are settling into life in 100ish square feet. We are feeling pretty dialed in, as far as Minnie Life goes, though we know we still have things to learn, understand and discover. After all, the longest we’ve lived on the road is one month, and that was in a minivan, so the weeks ahead will be new and fun and challenging and interesting. There’s more to see and more to do, and certainly more to write about. More pictures—that’s definite!

The ten in the title refers to our ten year wedding anniversary on July 16. If you are scratching your head and thinking, wait, I thought they celebrated eight years last month, you are not losing your mind. It’s both actually: 8 years legal in June and 10 years illegal in July! Now that we are legal, we refer to the first wedding as our illegal one, both to be funny and to make a point, an important point. When we first decided to commit our lives to each other, it was not recognized by our government. In spite of that fact, we thought it important to pledge our lives to each other in front of our family and friends, so that we could in turn count on their support and guidance and love in the years ahead. That was an incredible day ten years ago! Alanna was worried I wasn’t going to turn up—she said when she left the house with friends I was a disturbing shade of green! I was nervous, of course, getting married is a big deal, a huge deal, even if it was not legal at the time. 

I’m grateful to have two anniversaries to celebrate, to have taken the plunge ten years ago, to have worked hard in partnership with Alanna to make this relationship a thriving one that is filled with love and kindness and compassion. We’ve been through some challenging times together, as any couple has, and it feels great to be where we are today and to be on this great adventure, to have had the courage to leave our friends and family in San Francisco, our jobs, everything we know, and to be open to what lies ahead. That’s love my friends, and I am lucky to have found it, or maybe it found me. Either way, it’s a tremendous life!