Unexpected Couple’s Getaway

I’m sort of a believer in karma, so having great things happen always makes me want to hurry up and find more ways to be really, really good.

Pat and I (okay, really just me) had built a few extra days into our schedule to allow for whatever may come post-wedding.   A few months ago, before the honeymoon was planned, Laurel had mulled over the idea of having a week-long friend gathering after the ceremony.   I got into “make-room-for-anything-to-happen” mode and never got out.

As wedding activities drew to a close on Sunday, we were faced  with the challenge of deciding which of our many, many Northwest friends we should fill our free days with.   We love them all, and like children in a candy store, we were having a terrible time trying to chose.   When I told Laurel about the dilemma, she came up with a brand new solution, “Why don’t you just stay here and think about it?”

Laurel’s parents are really wonderful people — smart, funny, engaging, interested, talented, friendly — so we were excited  to stay and hang out with them and help wrap up the rest of the wedding chores.   We had “whistle-while-you-work” kind of day.   Nothing seems like a burden under the canopy of sweet-smelling ponderosas  alongside the crystal-clear sunny river.

That night we had a fun evening just sitting and chatting, telling stories, and giving Facebook a thorough social examination.   Then Pat and I hemmed and hawed about the “work” we had to do (more trip planning) and whether we should play (visit friends) or go back to Humboldt early and buckle down (start researching).   Dave and Rhonda posited another option — enjoy a few days solo at the cabin while doing what work we could.   Needless to say, we warmed up to the idea pretty quickly and were honored to be welcomed into the “family” (i.e. trusted with the cabin!).

After Rhonda and Dave headed back to Portland on Monday, I started to chip away at the number one thing weighing on my mind over the past few months.   Say it with me now”¦ “Catching up with my blog!”   With a few days of nothingness ahead and no internet access or ringing phones to distract me, suddenly I saw the light at the end of the tunnel!   After they left, I buckled down and started knocking-out entries left and right.   Suddenly, I went from being a month behind to two weeks behind.

In the late afternoon, I finally let Pat take me canoeing.   We walked the ten steps down to the dock and paddled around the miracle of Spring River.   As Dave puts it, this fantastic little hollow happens to be a place where an incredible aquifer just “comes to the surface!”   Born from the earth 100 yards upstream, with several other springs in the riverbed and on shores downstream, the water is crystal clear with a sandy bottom and as wide as a four lane highway.

We launched the blue canoe and lazed  our way down the river, greeting other folks out for a paddle.   We made our way up a fun inlet where we canoed  right up to the water gushing out of the ground.   It was great!   Because of the late hour, we turned around where Spring River flows into the Deschutes River (the main water source through this part of Oregon).   Before docking, we paddled as far as we could under the footbridge upstream.   It was great!   That evening, after a dinner of delightful leftovers, including fresh Alaska smoked salmon, we took off on a hike down the Forest Service road.

I was surprised  to see how far Laurel and I had run days before: I guess the scenery doesn’t register when you’re trying to keep up and avoid mosquitoes!   We came around a corner and saw a huge rock in the middle of a side road.   As we got closer, we realized it was a bird.   Closer still, a gorgeous adult owl came into view.   So majestic to watch it and see it finally fly into the trees!   Another hike highlight: all the tiny tracks in the ancient volcano dust.   For the longest time I thought they had to be baby bobcats, but there were just so many.   Finally the most adorable little froggies you’ve ever seen caught my eye, diligently making their way across the chasms and mounds of dust in the road toward the water.   Cute!

It was luxurious to lie in bed and read the next morning with the trees sunbathing just outside our second story window.   After a long blog session I was finally just a few days behind and ready for a serious canoe trip.   This time we paddled straight to the confluence, hoping we weren’t biting off more than we could chew.   It was a tense thirty seconds before we claimed a small victory over the Deschutes current.   It was strong, but couldn’t beat our consistent paddling.   We had our moments, what with an impatient, demanding, former rafting guide in the engine room, and a greenhorn in the driver’s seat.   However, we made it to the bridge where most boaters put-in (the goal) and beyond.   To our dismay we later discovered just a bit farther upstream the Little Deschutes joined the main — a whole other playground awaits!   Guess we have to save *something* for next time.

When we sat down that afternoon to plan our exodus the next day, I learned that Pat has still never been to Crater Lake.   I’ve been so many times, I can never fathom that there’s anyone who hasn’t.   We added it to the agenda, and then started thinking about other sights  we might squeeze in.   We missed out on the trips to the lava sights  near the cabin on account of our wedding exhaustion, so we started gathering info so we could pick the best one.   As the list of possibilities grew, we lamented the fact that  we’d missed out on so much.   Then we started asking ourselves when we’d have another chance.   Then we convinced ourselves that we’d be crazy not to put off responsibilities just one more teeny-tiny day while we appreciated more of the area’s natural history.   Then we decided to get a jump start on our list and headed out to catch Benham Falls before sunset!

The following day was for sure, definitely our last day in paradise.   First we checked out the Lava Tubes in the Lave Cast Forest — a fun one-mile loop where lava flow poured through 6,000 years ago.   The lava river built up on the upstream side of trees and hardened before the trees burned away, leaving tubes to the bottom of the flow.   Neat!

Then we went to the visitor’s center to answer the many questions we’d been asking each other about surrounding volcanic activity.   There we learned that pumice is the only volcanic product that floats, the end-product of lava flows depends on the amount of silica and gas in the magma, and the “dust” we’d hiked through the other night was ash from when Crater Lake (formerly Mount Mazama) erupted 7,700 years ago.   We also got a “fast-pass” for the Lava Butte Overlook (limited parking).   With over an hour to go before it was our turn, we decided to squeeze in the Lava River Cave.

I would not, for your information, recommend “squeezing” in the cave.   It’s too big, and there are too many tourists.   But we did it!   At the sight of the “lanterns for rent” sign, I cursed the fact that all our sources of light were sitting on the cabin counter instead of in the car where they belonged.   We didn’t know what to expect, so we thought we’d try our luck with the light giving devices we did have.   I won’t embarrass myself by telling what they were.   Suffice to say they were insufficient.   Pat rescued us by hitting up an outgoing group for use of their lantern.   For a few dollars we got the grand view!   Cave highlights were the place it passes under the highway (fun to think about), the sand gardens, the echo chamber, the double tube, and the terminus where the ceiling shrinks and some 1930’s men dug a passage.

We raced out of the cave to make our Lava Butte time with two minutes to spare.   The view was incredible as we walked around the edge of the cinder cone — Mt. Bachelor loomed in the distance with South Sister, Broken Top, Middle Sister, and North Sister hot on its tail.

Maniacs that we are, we decided we could still make it to the Newberry Crater.   Some tense navigational moments delivered us pretty efficiently to one of the crater’s gorgeous obsidian flows.   We enjoyed the lake views from the pinnacle of the hike and took cheesy photos among the huge, light pumice stones and captivating black glass.

After a stop at the falls, it was finally time for dinner.   We restocked at the Sunriver Country Store, then made an amazing quinoa/veggie/peanut curry.   We ate hunched over a map while making a research outline for our future travel plans.

In the morning, we enjoyed breakfast in the sunshine on the dock, did the post-wedding cabin deep clean, and headed off to Crater Lake.   I’ve always been with a different person, and often in the winter in 10-20 feet of snow.   For the first time, I hiked down to the bottom with Pat.   We spent a luxurious afternoon diving into the pristine waters and cliff jumping (Pat).

It’s a bit scary even just swimming when you can see all the way to the bottom (50 to 70 feet!) – better than any tropical destination I’ve ever visited!   If you’re afraid of heights, a panic attack would be in order.   Jumping from the cliff, a 30 foot jump easily looks like a hundred.   It was the perfect end to our glorious mini-vacation.   Then we were off to Arcata to see my CASA kid, catch up with electronic/internet chores, visit friends, and research the next leg of our journey!

Wedding #1 – Nature Aficionados Tie the Knot

The lovely Laurel Frick-Wright and I have been friends for nearly a decade, a companionship born in sea kayaks on the waters of Oregon’s spectacular Waldo Lake.   True to our shared nature (no pun intended), we both chose to begin our first year at the University of Oregon by partaking in a “new student” trip to crystal-clear, infamous sapphire waters.   On a sunny day, it’s possible to see over 100 feet to the bottom!

But, I digress.   We have been side by side through countless outdoor adventures, indoor dinner experiments, themed fiestas, wild undertakings, and fifteen-minute-between-class-mental-health-moments.   When Laurel took off for a study abroad year in New Zealand  in 2004 and I finished at the U of O, we knew the frequency of our shared adventures would suffer.   When she fell in love with the blond-haired, blue-eyed, German — Fabian – the miracle of affordable international phone rates and email kept me in touch with the highs and lows of their journey through the land of love and through the countryside of New Zealand.

Now, this woman who, in a sense, I “grew up” (and continue to “grow up”) with has done what neither of us was sure we’d ever do — get married!

After driving cross-country and not sleeping for 36 hours, Pat and I arrived at Laurel’s family cabin Wednesday evening in zombie form.   Despite our pre-arrival efforts to rouse our real personalities with a dip in the Tumalo  Creek and a change of clothes, we were in desperate need of a nap.   The cabin had gotten a serious face-lift since our college-get-away-cross-country-skiing days.   Its reincarnation was incredible, and still set in the dry pines on the bank of the crystal clear Spring River.   Pat and I found an unoccupied bed and set an alarm for a one-hour nap.   When I opened my eyes to the Central Oregon darkness, the silence spoke for itself.   Something had gone horribly wrong.   Not only did we fail to wake up and socialize  over dinner, but our napping room was meant  for Laurel’s parents.   I allowed my panic to subside to the old adage: “Everything will be okay in the end.   If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.”   And I went back to sleep.

With more than twelve hours of shut-eye under our belts, we were bright-eyed and bushy tailed  at 6:30 a.m. or so.   Laurel’s brother Peter, who had been assigned  to rouse Pat in time for the bachelor party rafting-trip departure, was relieved  not to have to summon  a complete stranger from his slumber.   I sent the boys packing with a bunch of bananas, a bag of carrots, and well wishes.   Then Laurel, her sister Maren, cousin Kayley, and I flung ourselves head-long into wedding prep.   Who knew a rehearsal dinner, wedding brunch, bug-spray, and a white-just-married-bikini could keep us shopping for almost six hours?

In between Bachelorette Party food prep, we managed showers before most the guests arrived.   Kelsey is a blond-haired Central Oregon native and cousin of Laurel’s.   Carol and Julia (pronounced Karo and You-lee-uh) are the outgoing women-friends of Fabian’s best school-mates.   Geeta  is a smart, fast-talking Chicagoan currently residing  in Germany where she and Laurel met.   Imke  (imm-kuh) is the sweet wife of Fabian’s brother, Killian.

After games of “two truths and a lie about Laurel” and toss the ring around Peter’s peter (I won!), we piled into a fancy limo and were chauffeured  to a Michael Franti  outdoor concert.   On the way, we cracked open Thai fortune cookies to read Laurel predictions about her future”¦ with a twist.   The concert was nice.   I’m not a Franti  follower, but it was great being in the evening sun on the lawn (Carol couldn’t get over the perfection of  the grass).   I love to dance and worked my way up to the front of the stage amidst throngs of teeny-boppers  and clouds of pot smoke several times as the sun set.   Afterwards, we got to play an unexpected game of “find-the-cars-that-had-been-delivered-by-the-boys” before squeezing in the doors of the Deschutes Brewery ten minutes before close.   Laurel’s middle name is eponymous with the river after which the micro-brewing company is named.   Given that and our bachelorette party status, we felt justified in ignoring the blatant annoyance of our waitress.   Afterwards, we found the boys engaged in general debauchery.   A few of them elected to ride back to the cabin in the first wave, while the die-hards didn’t make it back until three a.m.!

An aside:

Laurel had asked me to be  her day-of-wedding coordinator.   Initially this seemed mostly to deal with a post-ceremony canoe trip for all the attendees.   When the trip lost many of it’s complications, I was left with the impression that I’d just be around to pick up any slack.   However, after a pre-arrival phone conversation and a day-before-wedding “staff” meeting, I came to understand my real role.   In the phone conversation I initiated before Pat and I left Wyoming, I demanded that Laurel make the final decision between the two items I had decided on for her wedding gift.   After a long pause, she said in a controlled voice, “Surprise me”¦ I have been making  decisions non-stop for the last two weeks.   I don’t want to make any more decisions.”   Ohhhhh”¦.kay”¦ Duly noted.   Then, at our “staff” meeting as Laurel went over her list of chore assignments for mom, dad, etc., I eyeballed the single directive under my name, “see other lists.”

Now I understood my job description was to carefully study what Laurel had in mind, intercept as many logistics as possible, and shelter her from all but the most critical decisions and demands.   And so, I had three basic interactions with all the wonderful helping hands:

Let’s ask Laurel (Let’s not.)

Let’s do it this way (Let’s not.)

What can I do? (Let me show you.)

While Pat slept off his bachelor party sins (with my blessing), I put together an hour-by-hour lists of to-dos for the next two days.   After double-checking all the materials I needed and assembling a list of helpers, it was about time for the fun to begin!   Everyone was invited  to the rehearsal dinner, and the guests began arriving two hours in advance.   Eventually the open forest around the cabin was filled  with happy family and friends as the wedding party practiced their performance.   The BBQ lasted for several hours, which gave me plenty of time to covertly unearth and organize the post-wedding reception entertainment (an important German tradition).   We still managed to be in bed before ten!

The wedding day dawned clear in the cheerfully sunny woods.   With a minute-by-minute list of things to be done and a list of people to do them, the morning went smoothly and calmly.

By 10:30, most the guests were in place on hay bales, picnic table benches, and the fanciest camp & lawn chairs.   The beautiful bride had been shuttled  away down the serene creek of her youth, food preparation was complete, flowers had been distributed, and everyone was ready.   At 11:00 a.m., Laurel arrived at the family dock wearing the gorgeous dress she made herself, perched in the bow of a canoe paddled by her brother and sister.   Waiting on the dock were her beau, and his brother and sister — a perfectly symmetrical wedding party.

Geeta  played a beautiful serenade as they arrived, and another gorgeous tune as they walked up to the flower covered altar on the porch.   Laurel’s childhood friend Sarah, who as a lawyer really does have the “power vested in her by the State of Oregon”, recited a beautiful ceremony full of only the most genuine axioms about love.   Laurel and Fabian wrote their own vows, and had all of us (and themselves) in tears.   Then he surprised her with the wedding ring he had talked her out of months ago (brought to the altar by his adorable twin nephews), and they became husband and wife.   As they left the altar, Maren, her husband Thomas, and Imke  worked together to perform Norah Jones’ “Come Away With Me.”   It was all so beautiful!

The champagne brunch was up and running shortly thereafter.   An hour later everyone was changed  into canoeing clothes and launching in pairs onto  the Spring River.   With “Just” and “Married” painted onto Laurel & Fabian’s backs respectively, and with plenty of fishing bobbers in tow, the whole  wedding flotilla paddled down Spring River to its confluence with the Deschutes and on to the Benham Falls Sun River takeout.   With 19 canoes in all we were quite a spectacle and drew lots of stares, applause, and excitement from other river patrons.   Pat, wonderful man that he is, let me spend most of the trip lounging in the sun with my paddle in the bottom of the boat.

A bus met us at the end of our canoe trip and shuttled the boaters back to the cabin.   Everyone scattered to prepare for the reception and dinner, and I rushed to shower and drive to the High Desert Museum to get a few final  pieces in place before guests arrived.   To my delight, I was met  by a wonderful museum employee, Marcus, who also happened to be  from Paderborn where Laurel and Fabian first lived in Germany.   Marcus was incredibly enthusiastic and limitlessly  helpful.   Because of the cultural combo the wedding necessitated, I took on the task of making sure the reception entertainment provided by guests (a German tradition) fit into the time we were allowed  to be  in the museum (an American problem).   By the time guests arrived, the schedule was worked  out and synced with the band, caterers, and museum coordinator.

A fantastic evening was had by all.   Amazing appetizers and a delectable family-style  dinner highlighted funny poems, heart-warming speeches, a Bavarian yodel song, piano performances, sing-along parodies, and a dance debut of the Virginia Reel.

The Bluegrass Band was pleased  to have some enthusiastic dancers in the crowd, and even broke out a waltz.   (Pat asked Fabian’s mom to dance at precisely the wrong time — the waltz is the only dance she knows and one of the dances he doesn’t.   Ooops!). During the encore, Killian and Fabian stole the stage with mock, sultry, family-friendly  stripteases.   It was a great segue to the after party at a neighbor’s empty house down the road from Laurel’s cabin.

 We awoke on Sunday with, “Paderborn, Paderborn mein  stadt  das liebe dich”¦” (the city song) stuck in our heads.   Pat and I joined the packing and cleaning team while trying to decide what we would do with the free days we had worked into our schedule.   After packing the car, we found out not everyone was leaving and were invited to stay another day.   One day moved into two, and, well”¦ that’s a whole other blog entry.

Family Fun & Celebrating 50 years!

Getting to spend so much time in Gillette was great.   The Suchor’s, et al are definitely my second family and our visits are always pleasant, relaxing, and fun.   We got to babysit Pat’s brother’s (Landon & Leslie’s) kids a few times and spent a few late nights at their place drinking beers and catching up.   We shared several wonderful meals with Pat’s mom, dad, and sister (Sally, Paul and Amy), including a visit to the new Hibachi grill!

I also had the sobering opportunity to support my good friend, Nicole, at the end of her mom’s battle with cancer.   While I wish our time together could have been under happier circumstances, I am glad I could be there for her and her sisters.   The Glenn’s are a family I had grown up with, first best friends with Julie and later becoming really close with Nicole.   I feel like one of the family, and was thankful to be  near and to be able to offer a shoulder to lean on.

Nicole headed off to a mind-clearing mountain trip, and Pat and I welcomed my youngest sister, Jerrica, back to Gillette.   She had made a detour to Casper to pick up my nephew Izziah  (thanks for making this happen, Mom & Dad!), and arrived with the two little boys in the evening.   Pat’s dad, Paul is great with kids and soon he had them digging in the garden, exploring the backyard, picking peas, and pulling carrots.   While Pat studied the next day, Jerrica and I ran errands and took the boys on several adventures.

First we went swimming at the new rec-center (described in previous blog footnote).   It is an amazing place for kids.   The “river” pool is a maze of channels lined with “rocks” and all sorts of colorful water-spurting equipment along the sides and on the islands.   A graded baby pool features tons of fun equipment for toddlers, and there are two awesome waterslides.   Kyler  was afraid at first, but finally trusted that his life jacket would keep him from drowning (no thanks to me!).   He was cute, and loved floating in the current.   We got to go down the waterslide  several times on a double tube sans lifejacket.   Each time we reached the splash-down pool he joyfully announced, “Hey!   We didn’t drowned!   That was fun!   Okay, I’m ready to go again.”   Izziah, independent little soul that he is, loved everything.   I’m guessing his favorite part was the lily pad challenge.   A series of five floating pads (a rounded turtle surrounded by four flat lilies) forms a line from pool-side to pool-side.   After slipping off the turtle several times, I described a new technique he should try.   He got it, and after that, we could barely tear him away!

After swimming, food was in order.   We went to Jerrica’s favorite Chinese restaurant and then took the boys to the rollerskating  rink.   Amazingly, nothing about the rink has changed from our childhoods.   Izziah did great (he was very impressed with himself) and is learning more and more how to actually skate (versus the beginner’s “walk-skate”).   It was Kyler’s first time.   Like any four-year old, he’s prone to immediately announcing the slightest dissatisfactions with whining or crying.   We warned him that falling is part of skating and you just have to get back up and try again.   By the end, especially with his tough older cousin as an example, he was popping back up after every tumble.

The hope was, after skating, that my dad’s flight would arrive and he would baby sit the boys while Jerrica  and I (and Jeana if she could get off work) did some sister bonding.   However, seriously awful airport bungling had him stuck in Denver for the night.   So, we had a night in at Paul and Sally’s instead and all just stayed up chatting.

The next morning we re-coordinated schedules and Pat and I headed to my grandparent’s place near Sundance to kick off their 50th  Anniversary celebration.   We got to spend a bit of time there in the morning before driving over to Rapid City (South Dakota) to pick my mom up.   Sally had traded us cars for the weekend, and my mom was thankful (as were we): she fully expected to be  picked up in our old Honda!   We arrived back at “the land,” as my grandparent’s acreage has always been known, about the time that my dad and Jerrica arrived.   All four of my grandparents sons (my dad plus three) and their families were there.   As the dinner hour got closer, two of my grandmothers brothers, one of her sisters, and many of their children turned up as well.   We had a fun evening catching up with everyone and in some cases meeting each other.

Of course we had to stay up late playing cards.   Our favorite new game is called  “Hand and Foot.”   I’m told it’s like canasta, whatever that is.   The only downside is, the game length increases exponentially with each pair of players that are added.   As some began to fall asleep with cards in hand, we gave up and went to bed!

 The next day we took a family photo and went to the nearby reservoir where I spent many summer days growing up.   We played on the lakeshore and took turns being launched off of  Pat’s shoulders into the water.   My uncle recently bought a power boat, so everyone took turns riding the inflatables in the wake.   Owing to my lack of health insurance, I begged out of my turn at the end of the day as things were cooling down.   We should have gone home after the lake, but we went back to “the land” instead to eat and play more cards — a decision we didn’t regret!   It was great getting to see everyone and disappointing to have to rush off in the morning to go pack for the next leg of our summer adventure!

My dad was staying in town on a job at one of the mines, and Jerrica  was able to wrangle her work schedule at the last minute  to join Pat and I at a big Suchor family BBQ that night.   We ended up taking longer than we thought packing.   Instead of leaving Tuesday morning, we were finally ready Tuesday night.   My dad got to stop by on his way back into town to wish us well, and after tearful goodbyes with Pat’s family, we set out for Oregon and our first of three summer 2010 weddings.

Gillette Employment Adventures

We raced home from Casper so I could make my concessions date at the rodeo.   I told them I was outgoing and good with the public, so they said hawking would be my role.   Walking around shouting about hot dogs and iced tea is not a problem for me, and it’s the best money this type of gig has to offer.   I spent the evening toting around my goods going up and down the grandstand stairs.   I walked away with $.50 per item — worth it for a short term thing!

I had an appointment  the following morning at Tom’s Hot Shot.   “Hot Shots,” in Wyoming, are really “immediate delivery services.”   Basically, when a coal mine (located anywhere from 20 to 90 minutes from town) has an equipment  breakdown, it’s money down the drain.   It can mean a loss of anywhere from hundreds to thousands of dollars per hour, and the mine can’t afford to stock parts it needs unpredictably.   Therefore, it’s a priority to get the parts needed to fix something pronto.   Enter the Hot Shot service.   A call is placed, and within 15 minutes a driver is on the way to pick up the necessary part and drive it out to the mine.

Having spent a few months driving the parts truck for a mine in the past, and having grown up exploring the roads of Campbell County, and having a clean driving record, I was a great candidate for the job.   I was filling out employment paperwork within fifteen minutes of arriving, and before I could finish my “training,” the dispatcher had me out on a run!

For the rest of the week, I did the morning courier (scheduled) run out to the mine where I used to drive haul truck, and did other runs as needed in the afternoon.   All in all, it was not too bad for temporary work.   Most of the rigs didn’t have A/C, but it wasn’t too much of a hardship.   My favorite thing was probably the candy dishes at all the different parts places. (And the nice people and bits of Wyoming culture.   At one parts shop, on the window is a sticker like those used in police or military firearm training with a human silhouette and x’s in the center of different target zones.   The text reads: “Nothing in here”¦ is worth dying for.”)

During the day on Monday, the rodeo concessionaires called me with the “bad” news that they’d be too short-staffed to do hawking anymore and didn’t need me.   You can imagine I wasn’t heartbroken.   However, Tuesday afternoon they called again and asked if I could replace someone who’d quit inside the concession stand.   I agreed and had an interesting week.   I worked with:

1) Karen — the wife of Darrell who owned the operation

2) Luke — the sweet, tall, blonde teenage fry-cook who’d traveled from New Mexico where the rodeo is held other years

3) Amber — a shy, hard-working teenage fry-cook from Gillette just earning extra summer cash

4) Gabi — a mid-twenties cashier whose husband works in the food-prep trailer: they also travel from New Mexico

5) Brittany — daughter of the food supply guy and a teenage cashier from Gillette who for some reason totally hated me.   My guess is she didn’t like that I was on friendly terms with (everyone, but especially) her crush, Luke, AND I was quick and efficient enough to bump her out of her cushy-front-counter spot.

Karen and I ran the front counter, while Gabi and Brittany ran the back.   Luke and Amber worked in between handing off fries, catfish baskets, hot dogs, etc. to whichever side called for them.   In between handing out sodas, chicken-on-a-stick, jambalaya, etc., I tried to kill Brittany with kindness.   The owner Darrell has a gruff, demanding persona, which I was having none of.

He never yelled at me, but I sure saw him yell at the others.   This created an environment of  urgency and blame where everyone was always snapping at their fellow co-workers about hurrying up, even when things were running at breakneck pace.   Brittany especially took advantage of this, and barked random commands at me (backed with no authority, obviously).   I either ignored her completely, forced her to repeat her demand politely, or did as asked with a smile.   The bad karma came back to get her in the form of nightly dish duty in a greasy concession kitchen with no dishwasher.   Poor thing!

 I didn’t realize, when I agreed to move into the concession stand, that I was also agreeing to after-hours clean-up duty.   It took 30 minutes of refilling condiments on the first night before I realized what was going on.   I was too befuddled to do anything about it right away, so I waited until the end of the second night (so as not to leave them short with less than 24-hours notice) to set things straight.

 
Overall the concession-owning couple were not the kind of folks you’d be proud to have as friends.   They were unethical and stingy.   When food got dropped on the nasty floor, they thought the ten second rule was in effect.   When the wrong soda got dispensed, they insisted it was fine to let it sit around for thirty minutes until someone ordered it.   When the wrong soup got poured over rice, instead of tossing it out, they just poured it back into the soup pot — rice and all.   When the fry cook started tearing apart rolls  to be  served with his disgustingly dirty hands, not a word was said!   Karen told me, in front of customers, not to give so much cheese on nachos, not to give so much pork on sandwiches, etc.   It was less than admirable.   As you can imagine, I had to fight them for every dime of my meager wage at the end of the week.   When it was clear things would have to be fair for this woman, they ended up giving me the entire tip jar just to get me out of their hair.   I think the most valuable thing I got out of the whole deal was a few good stories!

The rodeo ended Saturday.   Manpower had called and scheduled me to take down a trade show booth (part of the rodeo) on Sunday.   I spent the whole  day working for the polar opposites of the concessionaires.   These folks were nice, overly generous, bought us lunch, and paid me and the boys for an extra hour of work.   Usually, in male-centric situations I am feisty and demand to be  treated like everyone else (aka the dudes).   I don’t shirk any heavy-lifting, I can run power tools with the best of them, and I’m not afraid to get dirty.   However, the booth managers were chivalrous Texans, and I was exhausted from working 12-16 hour days.   I carried plenty of grids, displays, and boxes, but I also gave in pretty easily when J.P. continuously assigned me to the easy jobs.

So, that’s it!   I pulled carpet, moved office furniture at the hospital, built cafeteria tables, worked rodeo concessions, took down a trade show booth, and spent several days driving hot shot (right up until we left for the family gathering).   All-in-all a full chapter for the history books!

Casper (Not The Friendly Ghost)

On our way to Casper Thursday morning, Pat studied furiously in the passenger seat.

Since there are no testing centers in Gillette, we worked it out so that he could take his first July CPA exam when we went to visit my sister, Jeana.   A phone call came in as I navigated the gentle rise and fall of the grasslands — it was Tom’s Hot Shot Service telling me the unconventional method I had suggested for okaying my driving record with their insurance had worked.   Could I start tomorrow?!   (No, but I’ll be in first thing Monday!)

I dropped Pat off at the nicest testing center he’s been to yet.   Usually they won’t let you take anything into the testing room — no food, drinks, watches, chapstick, calculator, pens, pencil, gum, nothing.   No breaks, either, except for whatever you’d like to sacrifice of your testing time.   And the staff is generally unfazed by the urgency of the test-takers, whose futures often depend on the outcomes of those few hours.   The Casper center was far friendlier — a testament to my beloved Wyoming, I think.   They were willing to accommodate hunger, provide plastic baggies and candy, and support their test-takers in anyway reasonable and within the rules.   Yay!

While he tested, I went with Jeana  to pick up my nephew, Izziah, from a summer program at the local school.   A bundle of energy, he came charging out to greet us.   A few hours later, Jeana  headed off to work and Izziah  and I went down to the local Goodwill.   He was an excellent shopping buddy, and from the seat of the cart helped me pick out shirts with collars (the dress code for the rodeo concessions) to try on.   He did a great job with design parameters, but when it came to prints he thought every shirt was, “Awesome!”   I had to acquiesce  and add a few horrible floral numbers to the dressing room pile.   And of course, when I was done, he more than deserved the “turn” he asked for.   It was wonderful to watch him weigh his six-year-old values as he lobbied for more than one shirt and had to slowly weed out which of the six shirts he would keep.   Yellowstone animals was first to go!   The light-up Power Rangers shirt just barely won out over Batman and a Skulls shirt.   Then it was time to pick up Pat and head over to my grandparent’s for dinner.

Izziah is an awesome kid with a strong independent streak.

Between playing with grandma, he helped in the kitchen as Pat and I whipped together a simple dinner of honey-mustard chicken, broccoli, and roasted potatoes.   We had a lovely evening chatting and catching up, topped off with ice cream and a walk down to the neighborhood park where we played on the swings, chased Izziah, and raced down the old-style metal slide.

In the morning, we took Izziah  to the summer program (against his will – he was adamant about being sick, but got better when we reminded him that sick kids can’t go swimming), and Jeana  and I walked down to the Goodwill to get some cards.   We played Rummy  with Pat until it was time to pick up Izziah.   Jeana  had to work, so Pat and I took my nephew to one of the local swimming pools complete with waterslides.

He loved it!   The weather was perfect — just short of scorching.   He rode on my lap down the waterslides  until I was confident that he could struggle through the nose-deep turbulent water successfully.   Then he was, to his delight, on his own (with Aunt Jema  always seconds away just in case).   I definitely got my exercise in a nearly unbroken circuit of up-the-stairs-down-the-slide-up-the-stairs!
That night, we put into motion our plans with one of Pat’s best-high-school-friends and his wife.   We were treated to an amazing evening of food a drinks in “Bar Nunn” — a little community outside of Casper.
Their adorable baby girl toddled around the kitchen as we had cocktails (the secret to their Margaritas is a 7Up and a Corona), amazing jalapeño bacon poppers, and BBQ German sausages fresh from Kyle’s family farm in South Dakota.   We chatted late into the night, including a phone-conference session with their third musketeer — Logan – who now lives on the east coast.

Saturday morning we got up early to hike up Casper Mountain to the falls.   Jeana’s man, Mark, had to work, so it was just the four of us.   Izziah  loved the waterfalls, and we discovered that new trails had been built  since Jeana last visited.   Fortunately, they were also all well marked  for a race that was to take place the following day.   We had no problem following the  four-mile loop, and Izziah had lots of fun “rock climbing” and exploring “caves” and other nooks and crannies.   We also had a great picnic!

Mark was home from work when we returned from our hike, so we all went to mini golf while Pat started study for his next (and hopefully final) CPA exam.   Izziah  loves golfing, and even has his own clubs.   So, no surprise that Aunt Jema  came in fourth (out of four), behind Izziah by more than a few strokes!   Back at home, after a Wyoming thundercloud rolled through, we fired up the pit in the backyard and sat around the fire as the sun set.

Going back a bit, one morning early in our stay, Jeana  and I had “disappeared” (from Izziah’s perspective) on a walk.   He was very upset that he was not invited along and made sure to remind up throughout the morning and afternoon that he was still “mad” at us.   So, I promised him a walk that just he and I would go on, and no-one else.   On our departure day, I got up early, went for a run, and then came back to the house to pick him up on his bike.   I ran and he pedaled several blocks until I suggested we visit a park near his house.   After playing on all the equipment, we started a game of make-believe with the crawl-through tube as our horse we were riding cross-country to California.   I believe we named her Annabelle, and stopped several times to shop and eat at the “Free” store and feed Annabelle  popcorn and hay.   Izziah was sad when it was time for breakfast, but I assured him we could come back and ride Annabelle anytime.

After morning munchies and few games of cards, it was time for Pat and I to head back to Gillette.     I had a date with the rodeo! (Concessions, that is”¦)

Homecoming – Oh, Gillette, How I Love Thee

Once time has pulled away the husks of hometown repression, there is nothing quite like arriving back for a visit.

It was wonderful to wander the familiar roadways from Cody, over “our” mountains past favorite hunting, backpacking, and four-wheeling trails, and down the unfolding ribbon of I-90 to ultimately pull into 6700 Robin Drive.   When Pat and I first started dating, his parents’ house became my second home.   Pat’s family welcomes me with open arms, and even though my parents have moved out-of-state, I feel at home and like one of the family when we return to Gillette.

We were greeted by Grandma Johnny and Aunt Di who were in town for the holiday and to celebrate all the family birthdays that follow on July 5th  .   We got to have everyone over for a homecoming dinner and enjoyed fun family meals each night while the Minnesota ladies were in town.   The next few days were a whirlwind of moving chores, unpacking & repacking, and looking for odd jobs.
Allow me to explain:

Moving chores — obviously, when you move, there are the things you think of.   Packing boxes.   Changing your address.   Unpacking boxes.   When the move involves changing lifestyles, there are other things one might not immediately think of: paying the end of utility bills, getting vehicle registrations changed, setting up finances to be managed from the front seat of a 1986 Honda Accord, getting more pages in the passport, etc.   And have I mentioned that I’m trying to catch up on my blog?

Unpacking & repacking — for the time being, we are keeping what little we haven’t sold or given away in a handful of boxes in the corner of Paul and Sally’s basement storage room.   These are things like photo albums, old year books, financial papers, diplomas, a box of clothes, a few boxes of backpacking gear, a kitchen “starter” kit, and some blankets.   It all fits into the trunk and cab area of our Honda, but not in its organized, final  boxes.   In short, for the trip to Wyoming, the car was the box – packed to the hilt with every little crevice crammed with pairs of socks and myriad small items.   Untangling and categorizing everything was quite the project!

Looking for odd jobs — Pat’s month of July was already usurped by the CPA exam.   He’s on his final two sections and for best results needed to study non-stop.   This left me with the painful job of trying not to interrupt my best friend, with whom I like to discuss every little thing that flits across my mind.   Lucky (?) for me, I had completely blown my summer budget.   My vision of visiting all my Northwest friends and living economically didn’t exactly pan out.   It’s hard, when you haven’t seen a friend for ages, to deny them the joy of celebrating the reunion by doing something exciting and outside their normal daily routine.   This usually involves establishments that deliver food and/or beverage items into your hands while you sit and chat.   Fees vary.

In short, my funds allotted for summer expenditures had dwindled to nothing.   Budget stickler that I am, there was only one thing to do — get a job!   My first stop was “Manpower” — a classic Wyoming temp agency — where I filled out paperwork and watched safety videos for over an hour just to get on their list.   Gillette also hosts the National High School Finals Rodeo, due  into town during our stay.   I called the concessionaire scheduler who connected me with folks looking for a few extra hands.   Then, while thumbing through a local ad-magazine, I stumbled across a hokey ad* for another temp agency.   After sharing my disbelief over their media choice, I eventually decided I would check into the time required to get on their list.   Home from the gym** the next morning, I dialed up the agency so I’d have details to mentally plan my day in the shower.   “Hi, I’m Jema and I have a variety of skills.   Tell me about Adecco and my chances of actually getting work with you folks if I go through your sign-up process.”

“Well,” says Robin, “actually, could you be on a downtown jobsite  in thirty minutes?”   Um, okay.   Uh, yes!   Pat helped pack my lunch, Sally helped me track town work gloves, and I was showered  and out the door in fifteen minutes.   I spent all day with Marcus, Rick, and John pulling up berber  carpet that had been glued to the cement floor in an old commercial building.   What a day job!   Marcus told me about a hot-shot service that was looking for drivers.   He was going to work for them until he started his accounting job the following week, but was still waiting on his out-of-state (red flag! ) driving record to show up.   I put a follow-up on my Monday list of to-do’s before heading off to enjoy Toy Story 3 and a delicious dinner out at the Prime Rib with the family!

Before we went to Casper, I spent a day arranging more temp work opportunities while Pat babysat  his nephews!   I joined him for the last few hours of the day with the 8, 6, 4, and almost 2 year old boys — they are a handful, and it was fun to watch Pat manage the wild bunch (and adorable to watch him fall asleep in the recliner with the napping youngest tucked on his shoulder).   At some point, I also got to hang out with my friend, Chase, (see Stanford & Steinbeck entry).   He’d come into town for a wedding, and was spending a few days relaxing.   I drove over, and true to our history, we sat around drinking water (we are former running buddies) and talking.   Then his mother told us about some videos we made in our high-school days that she and another of the boys had come across months ago.   After some technological challenges, we spent the rest of the night in stitches over our ridiculous antics involving dead fish and making fun of anyone and everything.

Adecco  ended up having two more jobs for me in the days before our visit to my sister/grandparents/Pat’s test in Casper — one moving furniture at the local hospital all day, and the other building their cafeteria tables for seven hours.   I worked with Rick, who I knew from the carpet pulling job.   He was quite  a character — wiry, on the small side, a cynical smoker, shameless soup-kitchen-user, leathery skin, and a growly  manner.   He’s a fighter, and I’m sure it was interesting for him to have a young woman bluntly but calmly explain that he was going to need to work on his patience.   We got along well, however.   To listen to him talk, you would assume a horrendous work ethic (always saying we should sneak off and hide, comments about getting paid by the hour, posturing about not wanting to lift a finger more than he had to).   Maybe it’s just because he did want to be shown up by a woman, but he was actually a good teammate and pulled his weight.   On the second day, we built our last table by 4:00 p.m. and I headed home to pack for our Casper trip!

Footnotes of sorts:

* This ad was both hilarious and horrifying.   It had two sultry women dressed in full camo hunting gear behind a waterline in front of a marshy hill.   They kneeled in a lunge, angled toward each other wheel-of-fortune-style, with shotguns pointed skyward, the butts resting on their thighs.   Their smoldering gazes reached right through the camera lens.   The headline read, “Job Hunting?   Call Adecco.”   Subtext: “We have benefits!”

** Campbell County, much like the rest of Wyoming, has been well known for its budget surpluses.   I don’t want to steal any thunder from the masterminds managing the money, but I do want to point out the remarkably small number of “mouths to feed.”   [Wyoming is the least populated state out of 50, and the 9th largest.   The 500,000 inhabitants have lots of resources to share around, and not as many outstretched hands to deal with.]   One of the fantastic side-effects, for me, is a wildly affordable, multi-million dollar county-run recreation center.   Lots of upheaval and disapproval has surrounded the construction and decisions around this facility.   However, it’s there now, and I used it!   It has multiple indoor tennis courts, racquetball courts, basketball cum volleyball courts, a standard pool, an indoor “river”, weight lifting, cardio galore, group exercise, and indoor track, and indoor walking loop, AND a climbing wall.   To top it all off, because it’s subsidized, a one month couples membership (no initiation of course) was”¦ oh, guess! ”¦.. yes, $69!

~ not a footnote, but a good place to stick this tidbit I want to have for future reflection:

One of the things I adore about Wyoming is the frequency of less-than-professional workplaces.   Most the folks there just can’t see why you should bother, and they find “professional” behavior quite pretentious.   It’s actually great.   At the DMV, at the Country Treasurer’s, at the Post Office”¦ no one enforces silly rules just because they can.   Bureaucracy is almost nil in Wyoming, especially for someone used to California..

Amtrak, Arcata, the Big Cleanse, the epic roadie

It was fun riding the Amtrak back from Canada.   My ticket would take me to Eugene, where I had left my car with Lauren and Matt (thank you!).   From there I would wend my way the five hours back to Arcata.

It’s been  a long time since I’ve done the Amtrak.   The leg room was fantastic, as were the views.

My exuberantly chtty seat partner was interesting – I know more about her mom, her step daughter, her step daughter’s mother, and her magazines than I probably ever wanted to.   I excused myself after awhile  to read my book in the dining car where I encountered  another chatty Cathy who educated me about her boyfriend’s truck driving, where they would be buying a house, how much she hates the west coast because people aren’t “real” like they are in the south, and the god-awful outfits some people wear.   Somehow (probably due to the dead horse in our path and having to wait for commercial trains to pass on the shared track), I still managed to finish 1984 and tackle the awkward feat of getting my Canadian and American money combined into one Canadian bill via the willingness of other passengers.   All this so when I broke the bill, I would get back American change (the dining car can’t provide an exchange service, but they can let you pull  this little trick).
Our hero, Garrett, comes to the rescue again.   He has agreed to meet me at the station to drive me to the farm to get my car.   Not only that, but due to my lack of cell phone, he’s also allowed me to hand off logistics for craigslist  riders who want to come to Arcata with me.   So, my chariot arrived, we tracked down Jacob – a bum kid from the east coast – and headed out to the farm.   I was excited  to finally introduce Garrett to Matt and Lauren, and we chatted awhile before Jacob and I took off.   The ride back was uneventful and somewhat entertaining.   Jacob is just another kid who feels entitled to ride the coat tails of society – annoying.   He’s been squatting in a tree house in a college town in Washington and is on the road to see the coast.   He thinks his Ohio parents should just stop worrying and accept that he’s going to do what he’s going to do anyway.   They might as well not worry about it.   He proudly told me about how he’s been living off food stamps and how awesome it is to get his monthly allowance and go gorge himself at the grocery store.   He also really believes that alien activity is the foundation of planet earth and he can’t wait for 2012.   He tried to get my sympathy vote on the petrol bill, casually mentioning that he only has $120 in his bank account.   Too bad, entitled child!   $25 of it is going in the gas tank!   I make him sound terrible, but really he wasn’t bad.   I’m sure one day he’ll be horribly embarrassed to look back on what a misguided 20 year-old he was.   I hope.

We made Humboldt at 3 a.m., greeted by the ubiquitous fog.   I dropped him at the edge of the community forest with well wishes and joined my sweetie in a very much changed apartment!   With the advent of Pat joining me on the road came the need to get rid of everything.   I had done this with most of my personal possessions when I had moved out at the end of April.   But when you share a space for four years, 80% of things are “ours.”   Pat had gotten rid of our bed and was now sleeping on the twin that used to go in the guest bedroom.   For the next seven days we would get terrible sleep – one average and one large person sharing a very tiny mattress!

While Pat worked, I did myriad moving chores, chatted with Pat’s new roommate and her boyfriend, and prepped for our garage sale on Saturday.   Our heaven-sent friend, Phil, got up at 6 a.m., bless his soul, to help us move stuff out onto  a friend’s well-located lawn.   Unbelievably, we had shoppers by 6:30!   A.M.!   On a Saturday!   For an 8:00 sale!   The garage sale was exhausting, but we got rid of almost everything – at least 70%.   However, we didn’t have any place to put the remaining 30%, so we decided to give it another go on Sunday.   I spent the evening at a cupcake decorating party at Tai’s chatting with some lovely ladies, and brought the leftover delicacies to the sale in the morning.   Sunday was slower than Saturday and ended with me dancing on the corner waving a “FREE” sign for 45 minutes.   It worked!   We ended up with just one box of stuff to deliver to St. Vinny’s, and it is such an amazing thing to get rid of so many possessions.   “The things you own end up owning you,” the saying goes.

We scrubbed ferociously Sunday afternoon, then took the wonderful Phil out to dinner at Ritas where we plied him incessantly with margaritas. (Now you want to be  our friend?)   I kept up the cleaning, babysitting kids at the gym (I’m still trading for a membership), and visiting my CASA kid for the rest of the week.   Pat and I did our final scrub when he came home from work on Tuesday, and then we started packing the car – a tricky proposition.   How do you fit everything you own into a 1986 Honda Accord?   For starters, you don’t organize it into categories and pack it in boxes.   That would leave far too much space under-utilized.   So, the car is the box.   You start with the biggest items and slowly fill in the holes.   It worked!   I even got to pack my guitar which I insisted on keeping, even though I hardly play.

The day before we left, we had a little drama with our Volvo.   It was due for an oil change, and we found out the water pump was leaking.   Finding parts for a ’71 Volvo is a chore.   Nothing would be available that day, so we decided to drive it anyway.   After Pat’s going away party at work, we delivered a few six packs to Peter (our friend who let us use his hot garage sale spot), had our last visit to the “Arcata Scoop” (favorite ice cream shop), and slept!

July 1st dawned after we were already on the road.   I knew it was going to be a hilarious journey when I lost Pat before we even got on the freeway.   I was driving the Volvo (to be dropped off at Matt and Lauren’s), and he the Honda.   Turns out the Accord was so heavily loaded, that Pat couldn’t make it up the steep hill outside our driveway!   Ha!

We stopped several times to check the water pump in the Volv, including a pull off where we happened upon a small herd of elk!

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You know your man-friend is an elk hunter when he says, “Oh yeah.   Look at that shot.   Broadside!   *insert gun firing noise here*   That’d be some good meat!   Strap it to the roof!”   OMG.   The funniest part was, my camera was unknowingly set on video, so I’ve got it on tape!

Due to our snail-like pace babying  the cars, we made it to Matt and Lauren’s right at lunch.   They invited us for burgers, and Pat was in heaven!   Matt has his own still, which Pat is in love with.   Pat had brought them some of his home brew, so of course a tasting session ensued.   Before I knew it, every kind of alcohol Matt has ever made was out for a taste test and we began to question who would be driving!   We made it back to the interstate, with 18 hours to go, at 3 p.m. with me behind the wheel.   We forgot to figure Portland traffic into the equation, and took the jams as an opportunity to get the oil changed.   I had deja vu  driving back through the Gorge, as I had been there so recently with the boys on our sailing adventure.   Pat and I switched in The Dalles, and so began our sleep/drive tag team bout all the way back to Wyoming.   Pat covered the rest of I-84, I got us to Spokane, he drove us through Idaho in the dark, and I took sunrise in Missoula all the way to Cody.   We made it!

Vancouver, B.C. – city of glass, mountain highways, and harbors

After our morning rituals in our now-favorite camp spot, we eased back into civilization with a stop for lunch items at Chelan’s local Safeway.   We took advantage of the cell service, and I got to call my parents on their anniversary!

I jumped behind the wheel for the next several hours and took us through the irrigated Columbia River Valley (looks a lot like home!), quaint little foothill towns (Toby said they were so cute he wanted to puke – I thought they were fantastic!), and finally back into the North Cascades!   One of the great  ironies of our journey: to get to Canada from our northern most point on our recent backpack trip we had to
1) hike 15 miles south,
2) sail 35 miles south
3) drive 20 miles south
4) drive 30 miles east
5) drive 70 miles north, and then
6) head west back into the Cascades.
Full circle, basically.   I have been the grateful recipient of many incredible mountain vistas, but the North Cascades take the cake.   I think it’s as close to New Zealand (think Lord of the Rings) as one can get in North America.   Soaring, jagged peak after soaring, jagged peak for miles and miles and miles.   If you ever get a chance to drive Washington’s Highway 20, don’t pass it up!

Of course there was intermittent pounding rain (it wouldn’t be Washington or spring  without it!), but we took advantage of a dry spell to throw down the tailgate and make lunch.

At our last U.S. gas stop, I succumbed to the attached McDonalds  and sucked down and ice cream cone.   Yay!   Then we were off for the border.   As my luck would have it, we were of course asked to pull to the holding area and step inside while our vehicle was searched and we were questioned.   Toby, Nathan, and Chhimi  managed to cross the border in the same strange vehicle combo, late at night, with a mish-mash of passports including one Bhutanese with no problems.   But throw “always-gets-stopped-at-customs-every-single-freaking-time” woman in the mix, and there is gonna be trouble! (sorry!!!!).   Of course there was nothing for them to “find,” so we were off and made it to Nathan’s dad’s house mid-evening!   Laundry and dinner were in order.   We made 11p.m. plans with Nathan’s sister and cousin in from out of town.   I took a nap so I could rally, but they ended up cancelling the plans and I didn’t wake up again until the early morning!

Given our time spent at high elevation, my morning Vancouver runs were especially glorious.   Not only is the city covered in beautiful vegetation, but my hemoglobin levels were sky high.   I felt like I could run forever! (Except, of course, the inevitable end of each journey – Nathan’s dad lives at the top of a very steep hill.   We’ll be walking this one.   Always.)

Our first full day in Vancouver (“North Van” actually) was spent  dealing with life logistics (laundry, email, budgeting, journaling, etc.).   Then we took various forms of public transport (Sea Ferry across the harbor and Sky Train to one end of the city) to the  “Bike Free Day” celebration.   The highlight, for me, was being on the Sky Train right after the Brazil/Ghana (I think) game let out.   A million Brazilians and Brazil fans flooded the streets.   We got on a sky train car with a bunch of them who were shouting and chanting and singing homage to their team.   It was great!   Highlights of the “Bike Free Day,” since I’m not much of a vendor visitor, were all people watching: dancers in costume, people on roller skates, people dancing on a couch, a tall, shirtless, hot-bodied, mini-dreads-to-his-chin African man picking up a middle-aged white woman and dancing with her wrapped around his waist (more than once!)… wow!   We ended the evening with a fantastic Father’s Day Dinner back at the house joined by Nathan’s sister Megan who met up with us at the previous  celebrations.   Ahh… friends, family, good food, and wine!

Day Two: we attacked the Vancouver sight-seeing possibilities with plans to have dinner with mom that night and sail on day three.   We had a quick stop at the bank where Toby had to salivate  over the Mountain Equipment Co-op across the street (Canada’s REI), while Nathan and I found out the US dollar is extremely weak.   Then it was off to a quaint, hot new grocery store on the side of town famous for its sidewalk heroin users.   Finally we made it to gas town, where Nathan says the loggers used to “get gassed” back in the day.   The official Gas Town website says it’s named after Gassy Jack, a tall-tale slinger who opened up the first saloon on the otherwise deserted stretch next to the mill.   The charming cobblestone streets and historic buildings are now the backdrop for many large cultural events, including the upcoming International Jazz Festival!

Afterwards we drove past Chinatown’s remaining street, stopped to check out the shreds remaining of the Olympic Village near the science museum, and ended up at Granville Island – my favorite destination for the day.   We watched a glassblower for awhile  (I really want to learn to do this!), visited the vibrant market where Nathan and Toby indulged in smoked salmon and sausages, walked around the docks checking out sail boats, and then visited the Kid’s Market and played with all the toys!   From that fun, we retired to Nate’s mom’s house in “West Van” – a cute little high rise  called the Lion’s Gate.   We had a cheese freakout in the form of appetizers: we got so full on feta, brie, and this amazing middle-eastern eggplant concoction that we couldn’t even imagine eating dinner without going on a walk first.

A few blocks down the street is the famed Vancouver sea wall walking path.   People come from all over the city for their evening stroll.   It was pleasantly populated and we enjoyed both the people watching and the view as the sun sank toward the horizon.   We were marveling at how the time slipped away when we realized it was the solstice!   So, with the sun still well above the horizon at 9:30 p.m., we headed back to make Thai curry.   Toby fixed it up, while Nathan chatted on the phone and I agonized over my next travel plans.   Not that we needed more food, but we ate Toby’s wonderful curry anyway, then we went ahead and had dessert.   Then Esther (Nathan’s delightful mother) brought out the chocolates – the delicious death kiss!   The highlight of the evening was getting to know Esther.   She is a truly incredible woman, so interesting, warm, sweet… wish she was my aunt so I’d get to see her at family reunions every few years!

Day Three was more my style (not that I don’t love exploring cities).   We took the boat to an inlet known as Indian Arm and got it all set up (quite  the process stepping the mast, getting all the lines attached, putting the motor on, attaching the rudder, dropping the keel, etc.).   Then we loaded more people than should probably fit on such a small boat – the three musketeers (Toby, Nathan, Jema), plus Taras, Melanie, and Esther.   As the wind puffed off and on, I worked on finishing 1984 (There are several classics I’ve yet to read).   We finally made it to the Twin Islands – a marine park that was fun to explore.   I hiked all the way around the main island, and then watched a testosterone war between Nathan and Taras thinly disguised as “Nathan learns to do a back flip off the dock.”   Silly boys!

Back on shore, we de-rigged and then headed to a quaint inlet town for some famous Gelato (like ice cream, but better and healthier).   It was to-die-for, and the people watching at the marina was great!

From there we gathered up items for a BBQ at Esther’s, collected my things for my morning journey, and headed back to West Van to spend my last Canadian evening barbecuing on the shore.   Thanks to the long, long days we were on the beach until past ten enjoying our chicken, salad, etc.   Then we drove up to an overlook with Taras to see the city lights and play with his new camera concocting all sorts of silly shots.   Of course we were late to bed and early to rise (me at least).   I was thankful to say goodbyes through the haze of sleepiness before Esther drove me to the train station.   Toby and Nathan are like brothers to me, and there is a pretty solid chance this is the last we’ll really see of each other, save weddings and the occasional visit each decade.   *sniffle*   I’ll miss you guys!

Stehekin & North Cascades National Park

Our arrival in Stehekin was glorious.   It’s a quaint little resort… well, “town” is pushing it.   The main building   off the dock is a restaurant, marina store, office, info booth complex.

Given the “canyon” character of the lake, there isn’t a lot of horizontal real estate too far from shore.    A road follows the lake shore and eventually the river with cabins on either side.   We would have loved to spend the morning exploring the town, but our hiking desires didn’t allow it.   We landed, rushed around collecting information about trails, made our choices, found out we had less than two hours to be  on the shuttle, and began the packing frenzy for our multi-day trip into North Cascades National Park.   The park has a shuttle that runs a few times a day up past several trailheads.   Our pick was at the end of the 11-mile road to nowhere.   (How does a lake town with no roads in or out get vehicles?   Tom’s Barge Service!)Dock permits were purchased  at the quaint marina store, our food holds in the boat were rummaged  through, meals were pieced  together, turns packing in the boat cabin were taken, and logistics phone calls were made  using my phone card on a courtesy satellite phone (Our last minute lake plans meant we had disappeared without telling anyone).   We threw out our thumbs for the shuttle bus, glimpsed the gorgeous Rainbow Falls on the way, and landed at High Bridge by noon!

Words can’t truly describe the feeling I get in the (real)  mountains – an overwhelming inner peace.   Glee and tranquility.   Maybe it’s how an anxious person feels after popping a Xanax?   I love it!   We had lunch atop enormous house sized boulders looking up the valley and I felt like I was home in the Big Horns (the Rockies where I grew up).   Our hasty packing combined with not wanting to carry more than we needed set us up for a hilarious food rationing situation.   Really, it was only a stressor for Toby, but it made every meal and snack a project. (Operation-Keep-Toby-From-Eating-All-The-Food!)

We made it to the gorgeous Flat Creek camp spot, complete with bear box, by late afternoon after eight to ten trail miles.   My new pack performed fantastically and I felt great!   We got our base camp set up, cooked dinner, and then tried for a fire in an on-off drizzle.   The boys got some good flames for a bit before the rain picked up and beat the fire.   Meanwhile, I worked on some correspondence and read my book.   Finally we retired to the dry tent, played crazy eights, and then war (which I won!).

I couldn’t wait for our hike the next day.   My only sadness about the Arcteryx  is that the “brain” (top of the pack) isn’t designed specifically to double as a day pack as many often are.   We pulled some buckles off of  other parts of my pack and made it work, though.   I wrote the company and am expecting a solution to arrive in the mail.   So, makeshift pack in tow, we ascended through maple, cedar, and fir forests into high meadows with cottonwoods.   I miss Wyoming!   Snow on the trail was intermittent, and it was still early spring in the high country.   Horseshoe Basin, our ultimate destination, was filled to the brim with snow, which was just as well.   After six or seven miles on the trail, we got to admire it among other soaring peaks from the other side of a flooded Basin Creek – gushing and not worth crossing twice in one day.

We lunched to an incredible view and had a gorgeous return hike.   The most eventful part of the day was still to come!   More evening drizzle caused us to turn in early and I was back to reading and writing letters.   I turned off my headlamp and had been asleep in the tent I shared with Nathan for an hour or so, when I my slumber was disturbed.

Nathan:   “Jema… [silence]  Jema.”

Me: “Huh?”

Nathan: “Could you turn on your headlamp?”

Me: “Huh?”

Nathan: “Could you turn on your headlamp?   I think I got electrocuted.”

Me: “Electrocuted?”
[thinking… we’re over twenty miles from the nearest sign of civilization, and 70 more from the nearest power pole.   You did NOT get electrocuted.]

Nathan: “Yeah.   Can you turn on the light?”

So I twist the light on, hand it to him, and roll over to go back to sleep.   After a few minutes of him rummaging around he says, “I think I got bitten.”   Of course this perks me up a bit more than the electrocution theory.   “Look over here.”   I do.   There is a mouse poo.   Nathan thinks, rather logically now, that he has been bitten  by a mouse.   If this is the case, there is a 99.9% chance that we are now rooming with a mouse in a very small tent.   What choice do we have but to investigate?   Yes, the tent door did get left two inches open.   We gently and hesitantly move around the what-nots in the tent until, “There it is!!!!!”   Of course the mouse freaks out and goes running – all very exciting for the two of us who would prefer not to be run across by a mouse.   After ten or fifteen minutes of adrenaline fueled quick thinking, resource calculating, and shouting and jumping around in the tent, I finally trap the mouse in a plastic bag.   What a hilarious night!

We had already planned on leaving the next day, but now we wanted to be  sure to get the earliest shuttle we could in case  Nathan needed to take the ferry down the lake for bite treatment.   We rose early, packed up wet camp gear (my least favorite camp chore), and hit the trail.   The skies were sunny, but the meadows we crossed soaked our pants.   We hustled back to High Bridge and lunched while we waited for the shuttle.   And you’ve never seen a woman so excited to see an outhouse!   Right before the shuttle arrived, a motley crew poured off the trail, including my favorite character: a shirtless, pot-bellied, former heavy-weight fighter with a bad hip covered in sweat who later hit up Nathan  in hopes of acquiring  some Mary Jane!

Toby, Nathan and I had become quite  the little tribe spending so much time in close quarters.   Our joy at being back in civilization, taking hot showers, getting to use the satellite phone, buying fresh chevre  from the gardener up the road, and cooking chevre/spinach/scallion crepes in  a shelter with an amazing view while drinking wine melted away tension if there was any!

Nathan didn’t have rabies, but the lead ranger on the med team who examined him was hilarious – an older gentleman who takes his job a little too seriously.   I loved the whole evening, including listening to Nathan play the fiddle lounging on the boat at the docks.

The highlight was getting to spend an indefinite time on the phone with Pat.   I sure am missing him, and absence really does make the heart grow fonder.   I am so glad he’s coming with me for the rest of the summer!

I christened the V-berth that night since Toby finally joined us on the boat (no convenient hammock set up options presented themselves).   It was wonderful being rocked to sleep, and waking to the sun on the hills around the lake.   We motored out of Stehekin and down the lake until the wind picked up.    After a bathroom break, suddenly the fierce winds were back.   We reefed the sail, and tacked almost all the way back.   Finally the wind died, we motored up to our take out, put the boat away, and spent another night under the stars in our former camp spot overlooking the river valley.   Heaven!

Lake Chelan – 55 miles of a canyon filled with glacier water!

The instant I laid eyes on them, Lake Chelan, Stehekin, and the North Cascades National Park automatically catapulted to the top of my favorites list for this summer.   Each is brilliant, breathtaking, captivating… truly magical.

After leaving Garrett in Salem, for the first time we stuffed all three of us into the cab of Toby’s 80’s Ford diesel (F250?).   We got a big bite out of our Lake Chelan drive before stopping at a campground near Multnomah Falls (Oregon’s tallest and quite famous) off of I-84.   When the  boat is on a trailer, it’s more like an RV.   Toby is very particular when it comes  to his personal comfort.   His insistence on his  hammock set-up ended up being  convenient, as it left the two spots in the cockpit open for Nathan and I.   Shortly after ten, we tossed a tarp over the boom  to ward off any of the ubiquitous Oregon rains that might materialize and snuggled into our sleeping bags for the night.

We awoke under the canopy of Oregon’s “jurassic” forests (they really do make you feel like dinosaurs are just around the corner)!   Not to break character, I rolled out first and early to race along the trails outside the campground and then stumbled upon – SHOWERS!!   When you’re on the road camp-style, finding a shower is similar to  stumbling across a $20 on the sidewalk in your every day life.   We tried to fit a visit to Multnomah  in, but it was clear parking a truck and trailer was going to be a non-option.   We settled for a quick photo taken in the middle of the road!

On our way to ‘The Dalles’ (rhymes with “pals” and yes, you must say *The* Dalles), we hemmed and hawed about how we would spend the next ten days.   Our original dreams were to sail two of the longest lakes in the Pacific Northwest – Lake Chelan Washington) and Kootenay Lake (Canada).   Eventually we chose the option that would cut two and a half days of driving out of the equation.

True to form, our trio turned what could have been a thirty minute stop into a two hour  foray.   We spent over an hour in The Dalles’ Fred Meyer parking lot epoxying  something-or-other, drying out clothes, remembering other things on the shopping list, etc.   Ridiculous.     And totally par for the course.   This put us in Chelan (the town at the foot of the lake) right around sunset – 9 p.m.-ish this time of year.   We did as much re-con as we could before heading up to find camping.   Side story: we are quite  the picture.   Our combined styles of dress, vehicle,  boat, etc. don’t quite add up.   We’re like a teenage boy who doesn’t know that stripes, red, polka dots, green, plaid, and platform shoes don’t really go together.   The best “look” we got was while obtaining ‘boat gas’ in Chelan.   Need to know: 1) Chelan is a resort town – think Tahoe or Vail.   2) our boat gas system is janky  – fill container  one with measuring capabilities, add to container two to mix additive, continue doing math possibly involving container three.   Repeat.   As we were working our magic on the gas, this brand new Mercedes Benz with two sixty-something country-club type people pulled in.   After seeing back seat Ms. Snooty’s lips clearly say to her companions, “What are those people DOING?!” they decided to go to another gas station.   Hilarious!

Finding camping turned into a hallmark story a week later.   It all started when Nathan and I agreed it would be silly to pay to camp.   We didn’t need any facilities, it was late so we’d be straight to bed, we were getting up early to launch the boat, and campgrounds are far less pleasant than your own little cozy pull-out on a country road.   Toby, however, didn’t see it this way.   For him, it was late, we didn’t know our way around, and any pullout – including ones we had seen on our way to the launch point – would require re-con and more driving.   This classic two-against-one scenario would repeat itself again and again over the next few weeks.   Anyway, Nathan and I prevailed in the face of Toby’s extreme irritation and landed a gorgeous spot in the National Forest overlooking a river valley under pine trees!

The morning run left my quads aching for days as I unintentionally ended up running hills – all the way down to the bottom of the river valley, up the other side, and back again.   It was gorgeous!   We were quite  the show in camp, as all of us have committed to our fitness on the road.   Push-ups, ab work using rocks as weights, substituting our five gallon bucket for a yoga ball, grabbing boat cushions for sit-up mats – all amongst the sage brush under the trees!

Our launch was lengthy (of course) and uneventful.   Eventually we were under way in a gentle breeze – perfect for practicing maneuvers, soaking up the sun, and reading my book.   Chelan is a 55 mile long lake carved by glaciers.   It’s basically like sailing up a wide, pristine, canyon on dazzling blue waters that plunge over 1,400 feet to the lake floor.   The lake drops off almost immediately, so there are no beaches, really.   Just rocks along the shore that give way to 20 foot drop-offs.   It’s breathtaking!   And did I mention the water is freezing?   Oh yeah, and after our launch point at Twenty-five Mile Creek, there are no roads in or out.   Communities, yes.   Roads to the outside world? No.

We spent the night a Graham Harbor – a tiny pullout along the lake.   Four men were having their 30th annual high-school reunion and had taken over the best tables and fire pits for their shenanigans.

After cooking curry with a beautiful view up the lake, and a quick lake shower before sunset, we cozied  in alongside them and listened to their tales.   Dick, the investment banker from Seattle, kept encouraging us to stay late into the night as he plied us with questions about which drugs are in style now, what raves and parties are like, etc.   I don’t know how we finally got away for bed!

The morning didn’t deliver the breezes we had hoped for, so I enjoyed more sunbathing as we lazed  our way up the lake.   We stopped at the intense, gushing Domke Falls (like a Brit might say Donkey) for lunch with an impressive view.

Twenty minutes later, we got the wind we’d been wishing for and then some.   Soon we were sailing through the most intense weather Toby and Nathan had seen in Lhungta.   The nearly gale-force winds  blew straight down the lake into our faces, covering us in spray as we crashed through three and four foot  waves.   Tacking back and forth was nerve-racking as we slammed from side to side.   Each tack felt like we would tip the sailboat into the water for sure as we scrambled from high side to high side.   What did I sign up for?!   It was clear just how bad it was when Nathan-the-risk-taker started saying we should think about turning around.   This time the two-against-one was Toby and I insisting that we were almost to our destination.   When we finally landed at Refrigerator Harbor, the boater/campers who watched us come in couldn’t wait to tell us how crazy they thought we were!

 As we set up camp on the remarkably calm shore, we could see the mast of the boat tipping back and forth like an out-of-control metronome.   We explored the cave formerly used to keep mining dynamite cool back in the day before making dinner and joining our buddies – let’s call them Chad and Eric, local boys  up camping  – at the campfire.   There was also a little lake-shore community a quarter-mile from the campground.   The caretaker joined us at the fire, a classic “old guy” plying us with tales of his Vietnam days.     In the morning, due to fierce winds, we decided to stay another day at Refrigerator Harbor.   We had a relaxing morning before hiking up to Domke Lake for a picnic.   The lake is big enough to land a float plane and has one “full-time” resident who stays nine-months a year with his horses, dirt bike to get up and down, cabin, and various outbuildings.   We also hiked toward Emerald Lake swatting mosquitoes through the swampy areas until we reached a creek we couldn’t cross.

The only events that night were meeting the local volunteer ranger and his friends up to visit, and Nathan trying to kill himself with the pressure cooker (how else are we going to make killer food in camp?!).   We turned in early with an agreement to be  on the lake no later than 6:30 a.m. to beat the winds up the lake.   We made it to Stehekin at the head of the lake by 8:30!   Finally!