RV Adventures

Hoodoos, Arches, & More

After 32 years, Jerry & I returned to Wyoming’s Grand Tetons National Park. We camped at Gros Ventre, situated amid a sagebrush prairie, beneath the cottonwoods. With almost 400 sites, the park provided opportunities to cycle and hike while moose grazed among the campsites.

Plans for kayaking Jenny Lake were exchanged for a hike after we found out the cost of permits—$80 for 2 kayaks. We parked at the Lupine Meadows trailhead and tramped to the lake , then followed the forested, rocky path, up and down, for 3 hours. A welcome lunch break was taken atop a large boulder with soothing sounds of a rushing river with small waterfall. Coming across a shuttle-boat landing further down the trail, the vote was unanimous to enjoy a relaxing 10 minute ride back to the south end of the lake.

We resumed our journey south after a hearty breakfast at the Virginian in Jackson. Following Hwy 89 we wound alongside the Snake River among mountains and valleys. An interesting evening was spent feeding alpacas, goats, chickens, and other critters at Harland Homestead. On 9/11 we contemplated that tragic day of 2001 and all who perished while rolling down the road to Capitol Reef National Park in Utah. Found an isolated spot to boondock off Notom-Bullfrog Rd, and then miraculously met up with our CA sailing friends near the closed visitor center without the assist of cell phones. Service is extremely limited here.

The highlight of our 3 days here was the partially paved Loop the Fold Rd. The all-day adventure in our jeep began on a dirt road leading across sandy gulches and through the Waterpocket Fold—a 100 mile wrinkle in the earth’s crust. Forces of erosion have sculpted the towering sandstone into wondrous shapes in vibrant shades of red, brown, ochre, and purple. We were addicted to discovering the surprise around each curve and didn’t stop until we’d completed the 115 mile scenic road at dusk.

The following day we’d planned to hike Grand Wash Trail. Sign at the trailhead: Dangerous flash floods can occur. If caught, climb to high ground.

That’s fine if you’re a mountain goat I thought as we trudged the narrow slot canyon with the sun beating down. After several rest stops in skimpy patches of shade, Jerry and I turned back while Steve and Susan proceeded a bit further. Thankfully all four of us chose to end the trek before conditions deteriorated. Back at the visitor center a crazy storm hit. I’m talking hail and torrential rain. When the squall subsided for enough visibility to drive back to camp, we encountered road conditions like the pictures above. Dry riverbeds became raging rivers, overflowing their banks and burnt sienna waterfalls poured over cliffs. What would our dirt road into our campsite be like? It turned out we were gratefully blessed 3 times: 1) The storm veered away from camp and our area was dry. 2) We had ended hiking early or might have become trapped or worse. 3) The Fruita Campground where we’d originally planned to camp had encountered major flooding.

So many trails were left to tramp, petroglyphs to contemplate, and vistas to admire, but we needed to move on to Horse Thief Campground, a US Forest Service area nestled between Arches and Canyonlands NPs. Our super-friendly camp host instructed us on how to obtain the necessary timed pass for the very popular Arches. We found the amount of people to be the only downside to this magical realm of arches, windows, and monolithic formations created from layers of sandstone.

Among our exploits: Hiking the Windows trail; a scenic drive past the Garden of Eden, Balanced Rock, and Elephant Butte to Delicate Arch viewpoint. Parking was a challenge at busy Devil’s Garden, but eventually found one and wandered a less populated passageway between fins, boulders, and hoodoos.

Escapades continued at the first of Canyonland’s first park—Islands in the Sky, a wide mesa sandwiched between the Green and Colorado Rivers. Its panoramic views offered glimpses of deep gorges and canyon walls reminiscent of the Grand Canyon. Ambled a couple of paths, not venturing too close to sharp vertical drop-offs. The night sky panoramas proved just as spectacular with a Milky Way glowing amid a lavish display of constellations, interrupted only by the occasional streak of a shooting star.

It was a shock to return to civilization, but drove into Moab for laundry duty, stocking up on supplies, and filling gas and water tanks. Steve forced us to stop at McDonalds for yummy mocha frappes, which I didn’t mind too much, before continuing on Hwy 191S to Hwy 211. Nine miles in, we paused at Canyonland’s Needles boundary to read the info signs. A local couple gave us directions to a nearby boondocking spot off the main road. With 30 miles to the park campground and being late afternoon, it sounded ideal. But 10 miles of weaving up Bear Ear mountain, we weren’t so sure as we parked on a large paved viewpoint. However, it did gift us with a beautiful sunset and rainbow the next morning. When we discovered one of the inner tires on our RV was almost flat, the obscure road turned out to be a real blessing. It led into the small town of Monticello. If we’d continued into the national park we would have been stranded without any facilities. By pure intuition (and guidance from above), we stopped at the Welcome Center/Frontier museum, which I highly recommend. The cheerful manager pointed us to Dependable Automotive, a couple of blocks away where the honest and experienced owner had us back on the road quickly.

Whew—Made it to the Needles campground and obtained one of the last available campsites. Beneath sunny skies, surrounded by a red rock wilderness and vast sage-scented prairie, we admired the perfect view of Wooden Shoe Arch in the distance. Lively conversation accompanied taco salad and fresh melon slices our 1st evening.

The following morning we meandered the Slick Rock Canyon Trail, basically a walk on rock that’s marked by stone cairns. Atop this surreal landscape our attention drifted from potholes to sculptured pinnacles and a distant “hoodoo city.” The 2 hour hike turned into 4 with several breaks due to rising temps and lowering energy. We hadn’t brought enough water or food, but the thirst and low blood sugar we suffered was totally worth the experience. On our final evening, after a supper of broccoli casserole and the last of our garden tomatoes, we reclined beneath a blanket of stars in the dark Utah desert. We were privileged to witness the most amazing sight—Starlink’s satellite train, with at least 20 glowing orbs gliding across the sky. What a grand finale to our adventures in 3 of Utah’s captivating parks. We were disappointed not to have time to explore Canyonland’s 3rd and wildest region, The Maze. More remote and only accessible by 2-and-4-wheel drive, its canyons plunge 600 feet to trails that wander into a strange and quiet world of fins, grottoes, minarets and more. Hopefully we ‘ll be back to explore all of these areas and new ones.

The final week of our journey included long drives, a couple of days with family in TN, and a half-day investigating portions of Mesa Verde NP, definitely not enough time. With binoculars we scrutinized extraordinary cliff dwellings, strolled some short paths, and studied museum artifacts plus early style homes dug into the ground.

There’s just too much to see and do in our wonderful country and throughout the world. Even being retired doesn’t allow enough time. However, I’m grateful for each experience along life’s highways, byways, and off its beaten track.

…It seems to me that the strangeness & wonder of existence are emphasized here, in the desert…not crowded upon life as in other places but scattered abroad in spareness and simplicity, with a generous gift of space for each herb and bush and tree, each stem of grass, so that the living organism stands out bold and brave and vivid against the lifeless sand and barren rock.

—Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire-A Season in the Wilderness

Alien Country

Rolling down the highway once more, heading west with good friends, JD & Kim. This is their 1st long adventure in their 26-ft Class A. Although we’ve been planning this trip for almost a year, it almost didn’t happen. Kim’s mom passed away 6 days before departure. And a late June tornado caused extensive damage to our C-Class. But we were able to leave all the unfinished business and worries behind and head out on schedule. Thanks be to God who blessed us with much needed strength and perseverance.

Our 1st night in IL we used Harvest Host and planted ourselves at a peaceful farm with only birds to serenade us. The following day found us camping in IA at Palisades-Kepler State Park where we enjoyed a leisurely hike to a river backdropped by tall limestone cliffs. Of course, our agenda required us to investigate Buchanan Winery set amidst rolling hills, farms, and vineyards. The eye catcher—a fabulous late 1800s Victorian house beside the winery. The bonus—tasty wines served by the friendly owner and a picnic on their patio. The day ended with grilled turkey burgers and squash from the farm, followed by a campfire, smores, and brownies. Don’t worry, we’re going to be getting plenty of exercise in the next few days.

Taking I-90, we arrived in the Badlands of South Dakota on the 4th day. We boon-docked (free camping without hookups in the wild) on a high plateau overlooking rugged canyons and tall grass plains. In the quiet before dusk, only the lowing of cattle and the wind moaning through the gulches could be heard. My birthday was celebrated atop this mystical land with Kim’s homemade chili with all the fixings, cornbread, and carrot cake as a full moon rose casting eerie shadows on canyon walls.

Only a few miles north lay the small town of Wall with the world’s largest drug store. Wall Drugs takes up an entire block and is a little touristy, but its uniqueness makes it totally worth a visit. There’s everything from fresh donuts to western art, postcards to sculpture, boots to books, soda shop, large dining room, and yes—a pharmacy.

We had an extraordinary day exploring Badlands National Park, driving the Loop Road where buffalo roamed and prairie dogs popped out of holes. We also hiked its alien landscape along the Windows, Door, and other trails before cooling down inside the Ben Reifel Visitor Center. Its museum-like exhibits taught us about hearty native Lakota and early homesteaders, the land’s surreal geography, and evolution of extinct animals through the study of fossils within this ancient seabed. I even got to watch an anthropologist meticulously scrape away on a fossilized cat skull.

Using Hwy 44 through Buffalo Gap National Grasslands to Hwy 16, we entered Black Hills National Forest. I checked off one of my bucket list items at our next stop, awe-inspiring Mount Rushmore.

Its creation by sculptor, Gutzon Borglum, boggles the imagination—both its size and construction. From 1927-12941 Borglum first made large mock-ups of each face before miners blasted, drilled, and chiseled away 800 tons of granite. This memorial is definitely a monumental tribute to America’s history and four of its greatest presidents: Washington, Jefferson, Teddy Roosevelt, and Lincoln. The excellent visitor’s center provided videos, photos, and sculptures to show the intricacies of this iconic endeavor.

We continued motoring along another portion of Hwy 16 to the Crazy Horse Memorial. Their vast visitor center complex wore us out, but was amazing. It contained 3 wings of a North American Indian museum, delightful artwork, and huge, tempting gift shop. Above its center loomed the still-in-progress mountain carving of Crazy Horse, a memorial to the Lakota people.

We capped off the daylight hours with a jaunt in our jeep along the scenic, challenging Route 87-Needles Hwy. Around every bend were spires, finger-like formations, and the bizarre Eye of the Needle . The narrow, twisty road squeezed through two narrow tunnels blasted in the rocks. Quite the adventure before hot showers, leftovers, and a restful night at nearby Custer State Park.

Ever since Close Encounters of the Third Kind came out, Devil’s Tower has been on my list of “Places to visit.” We navigated Hwy 24 and the Hwy 14 loop on a short scenic detour on our way through WY.

One word came to mind-surreal-as everyone hiked the 1.3 mile Tower Trail that encircled nature’s fantastic sculpture. Formed from molten magma that seeped into sedimentary rock, it cooled, contracted, and fractured into columns. Erosion eventually exposed this massive tower. And yes, I did keep a lookout for friendly aliens as I softly hummed those 5 unforgettable notes—G-A-F-octave lower F-C…

Parting company with Kim and JD was difficult, but they needed to return home to take care of business and work. It’s always fun sharing the joy and excitement of new places with friends. We look forward to more adventures in the coming years. Jerry and I continued our journey into MT and spent a night at one of the loveliest campgrounds I’ve ever been to.

Jim & Mary’s RV Park in Missoula far exceeded my expectations. I felt at home strolling by multiple themed garden areas filled with colorful flowers, shrubs, and whimsical sculptures. Friendly staff, superb restrooms and showers, and laundry room with attached game/puzzle room with library clinched it for me. I’ll be back!

Day 9 Jerry and I arrived at the furthermost point of our western excursion via Hwy 93, then Hwy 35 alongside Flathead Lake. We entered Glacier National Park in northern MT, specifically the West Glacier entrance and landed at Fish Creek Campground beside Lake McDonald. The stunning landscape captivated us, our spirits only slightly dampened by on/off again rain and gray skies.

A minor glitch popped up on our second day—the kayaks didn’t pass inspection by the dog sniffer. It wasn’t drugs they were searching for, but zebra and quagga mussels. We’d never encountered anything like this in the mid-west where you just plop your boat into whatever body of water you like. Not to be disheartened, I spent at least 2 hours scrubbing every inch, inside and out, until they looked like new.

The following day perseverance paid off and we enjoyed lovely weather and an easy paddle beneath a wide Montana sky—until we turned around. After a peaceful picnic on a tiny deserted beach, encompassed by majestic mountains, we lazily slid the kayaks back into crystal clear water. Rounding a rocky point, wind blasted our faces and choppy seas fought against us with each stroke. It took twice as long to return and my arms felt like limp noodles. But it was a memorable day.

I forgot to mention yesterday’s other trial. Since kayaking failed, we took a picturesque tramp from the campground, following the lakeshore to Rocky Point. Our weather app forecast plenty of time before the next rain system moved in. Surprise! They were wrong. We’d just turned back after climbing boulders and admiring the brilliant view when we got hit. I’m not talking sprinkles, but a heavy downpour that lasted the entire 30 min trot back to camp. Unfortunately, our rain jackets were in the RV. Don’t ask me why. The good news—I got my hair thoroughly washed.

There was one final challenge which turned into a blessing. Fish Creek Camp closed, so we had to find another campground. Labor Day weekend had just ended and we were able to obtain a site at Apgar, near the village. The great news was that a paved bicycle trail began here. After setting up camp, we pedaled its gentle slopes, winding through fern-drenched, cedar/hemlock forests to the Flathead River. Then back to Apgar Village where Jerry and I were forced to indulge in scoops of huckleberry and chocolate ice cream. It’s a good thing we only spent 4 days here, or I might still have to be dieting.

A final note: I’d looked forward to the drive on the popular Going-to-the-Sun Road, but we encountered one final roadblock. The entire road up to the lodge was under major reconstruction with all scenic turnouts closed. On our first day we had observed a continuous, slow-moving train of muddy cars jouncing and snaking back down the mountain in late afternoon, and had made the decision—Not worth it. Maybe on our next western adventure.

Our escapades will continue south into the Grand Tetons and some of Utah’s wonderful national parks in my next blog—after the holiday season. Joy & Serenity to the world. See you in 2024.

Climb the mountains & get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.
John Muir

Hocking Hills Pathways

Veering off the ocean path, Jerry, I, and friends shared our first RV road-trip of the season. It was everything I’d envisioned through Indiana’s cold, wet winter. Camping at Hocking Hills State Park in mid-April turned out to be the perfect time—not too crowded or noisy yet. Our semi-private sites backed up to woods in shades of green. *But be sure to book early as this is a very popular park! After setting up camp we reclined in our loungers, breathed deeply, and sipped our glasses of wine. The first thing I noticed was the quiet. This is why we camp. And then, being the “Organizer,” I began planning our hikes for the next 2-1/2 days. The state park and adjoining forest is a hiker’s mecca with trails varying from paved ADA accessible, to difficult climbs. My only concern was what and how much I could do with only being 4 months post total knee replacement.

Our first trek began at the Visitor’s Center located adjacent to the campground. Early morning was cool with spotty drizzle. We crossed A-Frame Bridge and ambled along the Gorge Trail to Upper Falls. *Note: The most popular trails are 1-way, although in the off-season, no worries. Water levels were high after March rains presenting soothing sounds and lovely cascades. Limestone cliffs with sculpted outcrops rose high on both sides as we clambered up and down stone steps and along a portion of the well-maintained Grandma Gatewood/Buckeye Trail. This followed a creek that transmogrified several times into beautiful pools as it wound its way toward Old Man’s Cave where a hermit resided during the early 1800s.

After a campfire and restful night we were excited for the next adventure—tramping to Rock House. Yes, it was up and down even more stone steps constructed for giants, not 5-ft old ladies, but was well worth the effort. From the huge cave room we peered through “windows” that overlooked a gorge with budding trees where birds chirped, seeking partners for nest-building.

The real challenge came as we drew near the gorge floor. A foot-bridge crossing the creek was damaged so we had to cross the water on branches and stones. We scrambled up the muddy incline using hiking sticks, tree roots, and friend’s outstretched hands. By the time we reached the top my quads were complaining and knee was swollen, but I made it! We savored the wide path lined with violets, blue phlox, and lady slippers strolling back to the parking lot.

Yesterday we’d explored the historical section of Logan hoping to visit the Hocking County Historical Society and Museum. It was closed, but set amid a neighborhood of stylish Victorian homes, it intrigued us with glimpses of ancient printing presses, artifacts, and small replicas of steam-powered machinery. Driving around the area we also discovered several restaurants and quaint shops.

So after our hike to Rock House, the afternoon became a downwind sail. We ate a late lunch at The Olde Dutch Restaurant that satisfied our appetites with country cooking. For those unable to choose from their tempting menu, there’s always endless choices from the buffet accompanied by homemade pie. My friend and I recommend the broasted chicken. Afterwards, local wineries beckoned. Our first one, Hocking Hills Winery, was only minutes away. Unfortunately many others had also heard the calling because there was a 30-min wait just for a tasting! So we traveled a narrow country road to Revolution Rockbridge Wine Company and discovered a small, down-to-earth place with some unique varieties—PB&J, cotton candy, and even a few spicy ones!

Evening found us cozied up around a blazing campfire, munching appetizers and sticky s’mores, content to be still after a bustling day. We will definitely return to this new favorite camping area to explore more of its diversified paths, many off the beaten path. Until then, keep trekking.

Lo, then the running water sounds
With gladsome, secret things!
The silent water more abounds,
And more the hidden springs.

Live murmurs then the trees will blend
with all the feathered song;
The waving grass low tribute lend
Earth’s music to prolong.

And thus the great earth I shall hold,
A perfect gift of thine;
Richer by these a thousandfold,
Than if broad lands were mine.
portions from a poem by George MacDonald

The Road Home

Veering off my usual path, I decided to talk about taking the roads back home to our places of origin. This six week RV road trip to California began near Jackson in western Tennessee where Jerry was born amid cotton fields and farmland. One uncle, abundant cousins and their families still reside here. It’s not unusual for fifty or more kin to pack into Uncle Edward and Aunt Jewell’s farmhouse during holidays and get-togethers. Sadly many of the elderly have passed on, but their strong family values and wonderful memories live on.

1,100 miles later we bedded down at Turquoise Campground low in the mountains east of Albuquerque, New Mexico. I hadn’t seen my nephew since his school days and who’s now in the Air Force. Married last year during Covid-19, it was a special blessing to finally meet his wife, discover how much we all have in common, and make tentative plans for camping. Because come early Fall, there will be a new addition to our family!

Continuing along I-40 with nostalgic sections of Route 66, we side-tracked through Petrified Forest National Park and the Painted Desert. A mystical landscape of colorful layered hills rose through ancient Indian petroglyphs, relics, and a forest preserved for future generations of explorers.

None of this wonder compared to reuniting with my younger sister just outside Flagstaff, Arizona. Dad’s archived slides and photographs triggered a common laugh and numerous anecdotes: mountain breakfasts and picnics; clambering up boulder heaps in Joshua Tree; swimming all day at the beach; and fishing creeks of the lower Sierras near Bishop. Memories of our mischievous brother, loving parents, doting grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles were bittersweet, having lost most, but was overpowered by new joys of grandchildren and expanding families.

San Diego’s sunshine and swaying palms provided an idyllic backdrop for kayaking portions of Mission Bay—a nesting area for terns who dive-bombed when venturing too close; a yacht club and marina of sailboats beckoning; a blue heron contemplating his next move…

Other activities included the scenic bike path partway around the bay and treading carefully the tidal moonscape along La Jolla’s shades of blue ocean. Each day we joined my favorite cousin for meals, talks, and walks along sandy shores.

Two hours north the shock of Orange County traffic was only slightly less than the price of gas—over $5.00 per gallon! Huntington Beach and its vicinity had been my home until Jerry and I sailed off into the sunset in 1998. It’s difficult to describe the fullness of emotions upon returning to the individuals and landmarks that helped form you, that are engraved forever into our hearts and minds. For ten glorious days we immersed ourselves within the lives of beloved family not visited in over two years, and close friends, some not seen in over a decade. Relationship trials and losses had challenged us emotionally, and physically we’d altered a bit, but re-entry into our friendships felt like only days had passed.

We shared stories and laughter while visiting old haunts such as Super Mex, known for humongous burritos and Harbor House’s fish and chips, whose cozy nooks and walls are plastered with classic movie posters. My all-time favorite is always fresh sushi downtown at Sushi On Fire. On Tuesdays there’s always “Local’s Night” in Huntington Beach. The gaiety of live bands and colorful dress intermingles with mouth-watering spicy Mexican, sweet funnel cakes frying, sizzling meats, and Farmer’s market scents of strawberries, peaches, lavender, and fresh-cut flowers. Charlie, almost four, didn’t talk much, but held hands and swayed to the music as we sauntered up Main St. All that wonderful food complimented with a margarita or glass of wine was thankfully balanced by plenty of exercise:

—Hikes among Bolsa Chica Wetlands gifted us with wading egrets on stilted legs and common curlews with long curved beaks catching fish in the shallows, protected western snowy plover, scurrying sandpipers, nesting black-helmeted least terns, and low-flying pelicans gliding just above the bay.

—Bike rides along the beach path to the pier, passing squirrel colonies, surfer dudes and dudettes.

—Kayaking narrow canals of Naples, a tiny haven of quiet serenity nestled within congested neighborhoods.

—Building sand castles and wading in the shallows where silky sand sucks at your feet, and the briny air sticks to your skin, curling hair.

—As the sun sank into June gloom’s marine layer the ocean’s rhythmic gentle roar and hiss plus nostalgic smells of beach fires, roasting hot dogs and marshmallows soothed jangled nerves. Always a perfect way to end the day.

We bid a sorrowful farewell to loved ones and the Pacific Ocean which still runs through my veins. But embraced a slower pace venturing inland to high-desert mountains at Silverwood Lake. Two couples joined our camping expedition for peaceful paddling, sweaty hikes along a portion of the Pacific Crest Trail, crackling campfires, and spectacular sunsets. A special evening hosted by our newbie-bachelor friend at his elegant home astonished us with a complete home-cooked meal served on his patio beneath a canopy of stars.

Long-time sailing friends followed our route along Highway 395 from Silverwood to Bishop, through the Sierras north to Lassen Volcanic National Park, and then east to Virginia City, Nevada. This spontaneous, adventurous couple kept us laughing as we loaded up on fresh goodies at Schat’s Bakery; tramped the Pond Trail in Rock Creek Canyon; and wound our way along Lassen’s scenic byway, Hwy 89, from Manzanita Lake to the Kohm Yah-mah-nee visitor’s center.

We romped near boiling mud-pots, steamy fumaroles, and among volcanic boulders from the 1914-15 eruptions that were dispersed within this diverse prehistoric vicinity.

One memorable moment was Steve going for an unexpected swim in Cold Boiling Lake, thankfully a dying hydro-thermal lake, now tepid and bubbly. That evening while we roasted marshmallows, he toasted his sneakers!

After 2-1/2 weeks we regretfully parted company in old west era Virginia City. Another step back in time, this once booming gold and silver mining town boasts of 23 saloons, 7 cemeteries, museums, mercantiles, historic sites, and entertaining shoot outs as you stroll authentic boardwalks.

Jerry and I still had several stops ahead amid gorgeous and intriguing environments which we anticipated eagerly. But life and its adventures are always best shared with family and friends. We would miss old and new stories spoken around campfires; genuine camaraderie and bonds strengthened through joint challenges and mutual appreciation of God’s masterful creation. We are overflowing with gratitude for the gift of this time of renewal and growth within our precious relationships, looking forward to creating new memories as we devise our next journey.

The beauty of places is insignificant next to the splendor discovered within the hearts of those we love and that love us.

Yooperland

We do not want merely to see beauty, though God knows even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words—to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, become part of it.—C.S. Lewis, “Weight of Glory”

In the fall of 2020 Jerry & I meandered a few byways of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula—a land of mariners, native tribes, and hearty locals known as Yoopers. Set amidst dense forests lie vast lakes, rushing rivers, and mazes of woodland trails awaiting exploration.

Our C-class RV drove along scenic SR-35, paralleling Lake Michigan’s northwest coast, headed for Delta County, Walleye Capital of the World. Is that really a thing? Nestled within a forest of birch and pine sprinkled with blue asters, our small campground provided views along the lake and Bark River. A serenade of lapping waves accompanied a frolicking otter where the river flowed into this inland sea as we strolled a deserted beach. Autumn foliage bordered the sandy shoreline decorated with driftwood and sea grass. A few miles north lay Esconaba where we ate lunch at Swedish Pantry, a quaint cafe off the main highway. Walls adorned with a wide array of clocks ticked and chimed as we savored homemade soups and sandwiches.

Following Hwy-2 east across the UP we bypassed Manistique this year due to Covid-19 closing many attractions. But 2-years ago, while visiting friends at their cozy lake cabin in the Hiawatha wilderness, we decelerated and embraced a diversity of activities in the area. At Palms Brook State Park we explored the mystique of Kitch-iti-Kipi—The Big Spring, where crystal waters gushed from limestone fissures 40-ft below the surface of a small cove of Indian Lake. A self-propelling observation raft allowed visitors to study ancient tree trunks, calcified branches, massive trout, and sandy shapes swirling near the bottom like dancing apparitions.

Two girlfriends & I paddled some short portions of 51-mile Indian River Canoe & Kayak Trail in Hiawatha National Forest during our stay. Loons, osprey, sand-hill cranes, wood turtles, otter, and other wildlife thrive among this varied landscape of hardwoods, conifers, marshland, & rolling hills. In nearby Gulliver our group toured Seul Choix Pointe Lighthouse, a functioning lighthouse and museum, dating back to 1895. Named by French sailors seeking refuge during a terrifying storm, it translates as Only Chance. After all that outdoor adventure, we’d worked up a thirst so headed to Mackinaw Trail Winery & Brewery in Manistique’s harbor for some tastings. Although small & casual, you can’t beat the ambience while sipping a glass, over-looking the boats.

Continuing east on Hwy-2 my husband & I entered the Great Waters of eastern UP where Lakes Michigan, Superior, & Heron connect. Within the tranquil beauty of lush forests, waterfalls, & burbling streams the air is fresh beneath cerulean skies & prismatic sunsets. Evening’s grand finale radiates the glorious majesty of the infinite heavens, & if you’re fortunate, the aurora borealis…which we have yet to see.

Our jeep traveled a twisty byway from our campground near Brimley following Lakeshore Drive, delving deep into the north woods. There are several side-road jaunts to secluded lakes, beaches, & scenic overlooks. Iroquois Light Station guides ships through a channel leading to St. Mary’s River & the Soo Locks, the only passage between Lake Superior and other Great Lakes.

Heading west on Route 123 delivered us to Tahquamenon Falls State Park near Newbury, Moose Capital of the World. Lots of “Capitals” in the UP! Strolling wide paths and boardwalks through tunnels of birch, maple, oak, & cedar led to areas of the Upper & Lower Falls. Tannin dyed waterfalls shades of browns and golds as they cascaded into the churning Tahquamenon River. For those with disabilities there’s a Track Chair Program, providing free off-road electric wheelchairs able to handle trails, sand, snow, & up to 8-inches of water! 1st come, 1st serve.

On a previous journey to the area we drove north through Paradise to narrow Whitefish point Road, winding its way to the oldest active lighthouse (1849) on Lake Superior. Among several historic structures was a U.S. Coast Guard life-saving boathouse. Jerry, an old Coastie, loved that (We also visited an operational Coast Guard station on that trip). We spent hours touring the Great lakes Shipwreck Museum containing an extensive collection of artifacts, artwork, & maritime history form several shipwrecks, including the Edmund Fitzgerald (no relation). There’s also a great bird observatory, most spectacular during spring & fall migrations. But year round you can view Boreal owls, woodpeckers, & more.

In Sault Ste. Marie, originally named Bow-wa-ting-Falling Waters, by the Chippewa Indians, the Soo Locks were built to form a passage around the rapid’s 21-ft drop, connecting Lake Superior to lake Huron which joins the other Great Lakes. Today there are 3 operational U.S. locks & 1 Canadian. Due to Covid-19 restrictions the tall observation platforms, tower, & visitor center were closed. But strolling the grounds was still fascinating as huge freighters traversed the locks like slow-moving city blocks. A delightful view was enjoyed in the 2nd story of Lockview Restaurant as we ate scrumptious seafood & scrutinized an assortment of nautical paraphernalia & old photos. Playing tourist in downtown, we walked along historic Water St, studying informational plaques that described life for the early 1800 settlers and their businesses. Several restored homes were planted within season’s end floral gardens, trees draped in fall splendor.

Being mostly fair-weather RVers, we headed south to Indiana, across the Mackinac Bridge to Troll Land—Lower Michigan, stopping for an overnight stay at Crittenden Park. Off the beaten path & at end of season made for a peaceful paddle around the lake followed by an enchanting sunset. A perfect end to the day & another RV quest.

Wisdom acquired in Yooperland:

Slow down, enjoy life, & don’t sweat the small stuff;
Savor every pasty* & the Mackinac Fudge ice cream;
A bad day in the UP beats a good day anywhere else.

*pasty- pronounced pass-tee, a Yooper food staple made from pie crust & stuffed with meat, veggies, & potatoes.

Thank Goodness For The Great Outdoors—Part 2, Rails & Trails

***Climb the mountains & get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees— John Muir***

High in the Rocky Mountains above Colorado Springs lies Mueller State Park. The 9,000+ elevation forced a turtle’s pace as we adjusted. Our campsite overlooked a dense forest of conifer and ponderosa pines alive with the hammering of a Williams sapsucker woodpecker, chirps and squawks of chickadees, bluebirds, and stellar jays. Campsite hosts, a pair of fearless gray jays, kept us company throughout the afternoon.

T-shirts and shorts were exchanged for winter coats the day following our arrival when a freak early September snowstorm sprinkled five inches of snow. High altitude caused problems within our propane heating system making for a couple of very chilly nights. So, hearty campers that we are, we moved down the mountain.

Having planned to visit the Royal Gorge anyway, we set up base camp in Canon City, but opted out of strolling across America’s highest suspension bridge due to frigid weather. My Southern California blood has never adjusted to winter temps, so Jerry and I embarked on a train from the 1880s Santa Fe Railroad Depot. Over eons the surging waters of the Arkansas River cut a deep ravine forming cliffs over 1,000-ft tall. Rails paralleled the rushing waters past sites where silver and lead ore miners once toiled and beneath the swaying bridge high above.

An altered itinerary only blessed us with a few hours to tramp a portion of Garden of the Gods in Manitou Springs. Sauntering past astounding red sandstone formations given names such as The Three Graces, Kissing Camels, and Cathedral Spires humbled our prideful souls. With a wide variety of paved paths and hiking trails beckoning, we’ll be certain to pass this way again.

Glacier Basin Campground in Rocky Mountain National Park didn’t provide many amenities—no electricity or showers; restrooms closed due to Covid-19; and campfires prohibited due to massive wildfires throughout Colorado. But none of that mattered when compared to its fantastic, picturesque setting. Chains of mountain ranges blanketed in lodgepole pine, douglas fir, and quaking aspen encircled our valley.

Among the Swiss Alps-looking pinnacles blustery winds swirled powdery snow across three glaciers and alpine tundra.

Free shuttles offered transport to several hiking trails and lakes enabling us to sit back, enjoy the passing beauty, and search for bighorn sheep. Jerry still hadn’t acclimated to higher altitudes. We limited ourselves to tramping fairly flat perimeters of pristine Bear and Sprague lakes while keeping an eye and ear out for whistling yellow-bellied marmots, meeping pikas, and growling black bears. Breathing deeply of crisp, pine-scented air invigorated while extraordinary views around every bend captivated.

One afternoon in the wide golden meadow of Morraine Park the antics of two elk herds entertained. Dueling bulls clashed antlers, alternately posing and chasing one another, competing for females. Offspring munched grass, unconcerned, near a bubbly brook as their father’s calls rose to high-pitched squeals before dropping to grunts.

At day’s end we’d lie back in outdoor recliners, bundled in quilts, and turn faces upward to diamond-studded blackness. The Milky Way’s brilliance humbled us; silence cleared the chaos in our minds; and solitude brought renewal of body and soul. We departed these majestic mountains on Route 34, following Big Thompson River strewn with boulders and fly-fishermen in waders. Chiselled granite walls rose like a fortress on both sides descending through the gorge. I have no doubt we’ll return to this primeval paradise where eagles soar, elk bugle, and the wilderness whispers its secrets.

***I am well again, I came to life in the cool winds and crystal waters of the mountains— John Muir***

Thank Goodness for the Great Outdoors—Part 1, Hikes & Bikes

“The heavens declare the glory of God; & the firmament shows His handiwork.” Psalm 19:1 NKJV

“Expect the unexpected” and “Be flexible” have been my mantras this year of the Covid-19 pandemic. The summer-that-wasn’t slipped by almost unnoticed without the usual social events of outdoor concerts, wineries, and car shows. Our RV vacation that should have been to Southern CA got reconfigured. Thank goodness outdoor activities were still available.

Charming, historic Hermann was our 1st stop in Missouri. Residents went far beyond common courtesy. Tammy, the Director of Tourism & Economic Dev. stopped to visit our campsite at City Park. She encouraged a 5 minute walk to Stone Hill, the state’s oldest winery, established in 1847. Panoramic views of the old-world town created a perfect backdrop for award-winning wines, fermented from 11 varieties of grapes including Norton, America’s first native grape.

Also recommended was a scenic portion of the Katy Trail to cycle, plus The Corner Restaurant that served a scrumptious home-style breakfast. The owner, Katie, took time from her short-staffed hectic schedule to share family history of the cafe and her air B&B log cabin just down the road. Money earned from the B&B was donated so groups with disabilities could come and stay for free. Then this good-hearted woman refused to let us pay for our meal. “Just pay it forward at your next stop,” she said.

Besides authentic German cuisine, wine trails, breweries, and monthly festivals, Hermann lies just off the Katy Trail. At 240 miles,it’s the longest rails-to-trails in the U.S., most of it meandering alongside the Missouri River. Dramatic limestone bluffs guarded one side of the path we cycled from Bluffton to Portland. Dark patches of forest entangled with thick vines interspersed with wildflowers and scenic glimpses of the river on the trail’s opposite border. We crossed primitive iron bridges and studied signs portraying highlights of the Lewis & Clark Expedition as they paddled the river in keel-boats, exploring, hunting, fishing, and bartering with local Indians. Now that was a REAL adventure! Additional knowledge was gleaned about these early adventurers and the MKT railroad/Katy Trail from a side trip to Boonville’s River, Rails, & Trails Museum along with nearby walks to the historic train depot and Katy Bridge, currently under restoration, which spans the wide Missouri River.

Our next port of call was Thibaut Point Park on Truman Lake adjoining Lake of the Ozarks. Kayaks were slid into the water from our campsite. We crossed a small inlet observing 2 bald eagles perched atop a bare tree who kept a keen eye on the 2 crazy humans below. This 55,000 acre lake is a summer breeding ground and winter habitat for eagles. Reclining near the shore in late afternoon, we delighted as they and turkey vultures soared in wide circles, hunting for dinner. Hummingbirds and butterflies feasted on nectar while bluebirds, cardinals, and a variety of shorebirds flittered about. The only obnoxious critters were the dive-bombing horseflies, making paradise not quite perfect. However, day’s end presented extraordinary sunsets, then starlit skies as we sipped wine around the campfire.

An hour southeast of Truman Lake lay HaHa Tonka State Park. We met our exercise quota there investigating The Castle, a burned out stone mansion constructed in the early 1900s with two tragic tales haunting its impressive ruins and grounds. Overlooking a finger of Lake of the Ozarks, we peered through hardwood forest and glimpsed the natural blue-green spring far below. An anticipated 30 minute jaunt down transformed into a challenging 2+ hour trek. The well-maintained boardwalk of the Del Rim Trail was the preamble to a descent of 360 wooden steps leading to the Spring Trail wandering beside an idyllic spring pool. Lush ferns, flowers, and nutrient-rich earth permeated the cool air. But what comes down must eventually go back up—if you want to get to your car! Only 60 steps and a significantly steep and rocky trail eventually brought us back to where we began.

After a nourishing sleep we packed up and pointed the RV in a westerly direction, heading to Colorado. But 1st we had to make it through the wide, wide state of Kansas. The journey will continue in my next excerpt of “Thank Goodness for the Great Outdoors—Part 2, Rails & Trails”.

“Receive My peace as you lie down to sleep with thankful thoughts playing a lullaby in your mind.”—Sarah Young

Downeast Maine—Where Mountains Embrace The Sea

Everyone needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to body and soul.
John Muir

My husband and I ventured to Maine to explore Acadia National Park and visit the famous Bass Harbor Lighthouse whose idyllic photograph had beckoned me for years. What we discovered in early October 2017 was so much more—a rich maritime history mingling in quaint fishing villages; islands scattered like gems among a sapphire-blue ocean; diversified woodlands showing off their fall splendor; an abundance of wildlife, and more.

**At the southwest tip of Mount Desert Island** stands 158-year-old Bass Harbor Lighthouse.

From Ellsworth our Freelander wound its way along sparsely populated Highway 1 to Mountain View Campground in Flander’s Bay . Set on a bluff, lobster boats chugged out of the cove each morning, returning at dusk, with Cadillac Mountain looming across the wide expanse of Frenchman’s Bay.

Acadia’s 27-mile Park View Loop road began at Hull’s Cove Visitor Center and snaked around Mount Desert Island’s main portion of the national park. Giant granite slabs stepping-stoned downward to Thunder Hole where waves boomed through a blow-hole. Crabs, periwinkles, and sea anemones thrived in nearby velvety-red tide pools. Sunlight danced on the water at Otter Point as we enjoyed a picnic. Seals playfully barked and seagulls glided lazily on the briny breeze.

Historic stone bridges spanned broken-stone carriage roads giving a glimpse into an earlier era at Jordan’s Pond. Modes of transportation included bicycles and horses, but no cars. An easy trail provided excellent views of the crystal-clear pond and Bubble Mountains. An amazing day ended on Cadillac Mountain. At 1,500-feet, highest point in Maine, it boasted a gorgeous panorama of bays, islands, and lakes.

A third section of Acadia NP is found on Schoodic Peninsula. Quieter and less traveled, the National Scenic Byway meanders past enchanting ocean views; small fishing villages where colorful buoys,glass balls, and lobster traps decorate front yards; and woodlands alive with birdsong amidst fall foliage. On the wharf at the tiny marina in Winter Harbor we encountered a friendly young fisherman whose legacy of fishing and lobstering spans generations. “The money is great,” he admitted, “but battling storms and frigid temps can be a bit much at times.” Further along the road in Corea, built around its picturesque fishing harbor, I devoured my first, but not last lobster roll, dining alfresco.

The only sounds on Flander’s Pond were our paddles swishing through the water and an occasional loon. In solitude in the crisp air with eagles, turtles, and beavers. a little slice of heaven.

A day in Brooklin, the “boat-building capital of the world”, was a highlight for my sailor husband, who renovated our cruising sailboat and is currently building a 10-foot sailing dinghy. We accepted an invitation into a boathouse where the builder proudly described the intricacies of a 92-f00t yacht in progress from the vantage point of scaffolding high above .

***The Wooden Boat School & Store where a popular boating magazine is published and boat-building plus sailing classes are taught.***

Driving through a misty rain took us northward to Lubec where West Quoddy Lighthouse has stood as a beacon of hope and warning for ships since 1808. Trekking a nearby trail where ferns, firs, and pines proliferate, reminded me of Oregon’s forests. High on a bluff overlooking the Bay of Fundy, we sighted with binoculars the International Bridge, spanning the eastern-most point in the U.S. with New Brunswick, Canada.

Off Sunshine Road on Deer Island is a unique tearoom and store, Nervous Nellie’s, where you can sample over 15 yummy homemade jams. Then wander a fantasy land of trails where whimsical sculptures delight the young and old. On a rainy day you can wander through The Big Chicken Barn. This humongous antiquarian book dealer and antique shop offered everything from armoires to nautical paraphernalia, rare books to sleds.

The gate shut behind us as we drove away from the campground. It was the end of the season, shops and restaurants closing, and many locals heading south to warmer temperatures. Jerry and I had come to Maine for the gorgeous scenery and hadn’t been disappointed, but additionally grateful for the abundance of experiences. The fresh seafood alone could lure me back, but also its maritime ambience, friendly locals, and rugged beauty.

Detours

Lakeside with the C-class in N. Carolina

Driving east on I-64, Jerry and I anticipated exploration of the Outer Banks in North Carolina. After weeks of research and preparation we had several campground reservations for the barrier islands and the Ocracoke/Cedar Island ferry, plus a list of historical sites. Visions of swaying sea grasses amid sand dunes, the effervescent rumble of waves, fresh salty air, and stunning sunsets beckoned.

Plans disintegrated with the turbulent news of Hurricane Dorian battering its way across and up the Atlantic seaboard. It not only stalled, causing catastrophic damage in the Bahamas, but never veered from its course, landing a direct hit over Ocracoke and Hatteras Islands—our main destinations. Mandatory evacuations due to 70-80mph winds altered our calculated route from low-lying Hwy-12 where flooding storm surge was predicted.

After a night in Virginia Beach we set our sights inland, choosing a campground below Richmond. Pocahontas State Park offered extensive trails for hiking, biking, and other uses. Only 30 minutes south of this historic city, we played at the interactive Science Museum and strolled a canal pathway along the James River.

“Now where?” we both wondered after two days in a holding pattern awaiting updated news. Staying inland due to coastal destruction, we followed I-85 south to Kerr Lake SRA located at the top of North Carolina. There were seven state parks to chose from the 850 miles of wooded shoreline. From our campsite at Satterwhite Point we kayaked secluded coves inhabited by egrets and herons. The music of dancing waters lapped the shore; a sailboat glided downwind, its colorful spinnaker billowing; songbirds harmonized beneath a cerulean sky. I breathed in the pine scent and the peace.

Venturing to the southern borders of N. Carolina/S. Carolina, we discovered hidden among the farms, quaint Carroll Woods RV Park, situated within the vineyards of Grapefull Sisters Winery. A perfect combination, which I hear is becoming popular across the country. One day we toured the 1940s Battleship NORTH CAROLINA in Wilmington—all 728-feet of her, on multiple decks, from the bridge’s chart-house to the depths of the steamy 90+ heat of its engine rooms.

Apache Family Campground in Myrtle Beach, S. Carolina is not off the beaten path! But the powdery sand was a mere 20-feet away over a short grassy sand dune. There were beach chairs at surf’s edge; walks on the long fishing pier; sunsets accompanied by a briny breeze; reflections of moonrise in the gentle swells.

South Carolina also gave us an extraordinary visit with cruising friends, Bill and Debbie off sailboat ROMANCE, whom we had met in the South Pacific. Not having seen each other in 20-years, it was quite the journey down memory lane! They live in Chapin on the shore of Lake Murray for half the year and cruise the coasts of western Malaysia and Thailand the other 6-months. While there we drove across to explore Dreher Island State Park which offers campsites, cabins, hiking, boating, and great fishing.

Our final stop was Harrison Bay State Park outside Chattanooga, Tennessee. There were shared meals, conversations, and music with long-time friends, Barry and Amy. and of course, more kayaking, cycling, and hikes.

I choose to be thankful for this interrupted trip which led to God blessing us with so many of his creations: the vast ocean, majestic mountains, abundant lakes and rivers, restful mornings, tranquil sunsets, and best of all—reuniting and having extra time with friends.

“Interruptions. They can bring upheaval and frustration. But God often interrupts our journeys by offering a divine invitation to be part of something more“—The Interrupted Life by Priscilla Shirer