The Blissful Solitude of Solo Camping

My birthday present to myself this year was a roof top tent from Roofnest for my Subaru Crosstrek. I’d been contemplating the best option for my entrance into the solo camping experience — do I buy a small RV? Pull a trailer? Sleep inside my car? Pitch a tent on the ground?

I went with a rooftop tent because … backing up a trailer fills me with anxiety! I’m not going to sleep on the ground; been there, done that. My car is a car, not a bed. And a RV of any size was beyond my means.

So I bought a Sparrow Eye from Roofnest because it’s easy to put up, has a small footprint on top of my car and was the right price! On sale. Free shipping! It came in a HUGE box. There was little to assemble, although I could not have put it on top of my car without help. It’s extremely heavy. And bolting it to my rack took some effort, but it is not going to come off.

My inaugural solo trip was to Morro Strand State Beach; close enough to my California Central Coast home but far enough to feel adventurous. The campground, a parking lot right on the beach, was the perfect site for my first tent experience. Safe with lots of people around! The tent went up in one fell swoop … no problem. Took a long walk on the beach, made soup on my camp stove, watched the sun dip below the horizon and was lulled to sleep by the soothing sounds of the Pacific Ocean.

Next morning I awoke, toasty warm in my overnight cocoon, to the, once again, soothing sounds of the Pacific Ocean. After a leisurely walk on the beach, I collapsed my tent, packed up my gear and headed home up Highway 1. Stopped in Cayucos for a cup of coffee at Cayucos Coffee and a package of cookies at Brown Butter Cookie Company.

Here’s what I discovered as a solo traveler. Anonymity. I wandered aimlessly. The hellos and good mornings and how ya doing were said in passing. I didn’t know the people who I greeted or who greeted me. Didn’t feel the need to stop and catch up or exchange any information. A nod and a smile sufficed as acknowledgement. No thoughts about “who am I presenting to the world?” Just a wayfarer passing through, absorbing the vitality of an area. It was intoxicating!

Tidbits:

Public bathroom met my expectations. I’ve seen better and worse.

Camping in a parking lot was just fine; a safe spot for my first solo camping outing.

Drinking a hot cup of coffee, made on my little camp stove, walking on the beach watching the morning unfold … unforgettable!

Keepin' My Eyes Open

I’m always on the lookout for something different to photograph. I was checking into a hotel in southern California and saw this wild looking female sago palm seed cone. It was too great a shot to pass up!

What I See Through My Viewfinder

I’ve been looking through the viewfinder of a camera most of my life. What to do with so many photos? My latest endeavor: original photographs printed on recycled handmade paper and framed with found repurposed wood. Yep, all done by me. Check out my shop on Etsy: artbysusanhart. Just click the link in the menu bar above.

Photo taken in Wyoming at ylranch.com

Silly Gnome-nclature

When I was a kid, my Dad loved to make words silly. He would say scissors and sword and pronounce the ‘c’ and ‘w.’ He’d say K-night and an-SWer. He’d right upside down and backwards. In fact, the first time I ever wrote my name I wrote: trah nasus.

Suffice it to say, he loved the English language with all of its rules and foibles and imperfections.  I inherited that love from him. He didn’t love gardening, though, I inherited that fondness from my Croatian Dedo. Quite often in the quiet of the garden I hear them both in my head. My Dedo’s voice is loving and kind, about treating plants with tenderness. My Dad’s makes me laugh inside as I harvest this-T-les and cut lim-B’s off of trees or pick ras-P-berries.

But I laugh out loud with the word gnome. Not just because the word is funny — in my head I say ge-nome (my Dad would be so proud) — but because the garden sculptures, themselves, are just ridiculous. And I have a collection. What does that say about me?! It led me on a search to discover the attraction behind these tiny effigies, that we scatter about our yards, that depict men with long white beards and pointed red hats in various states of leisurely pastimes.

Their popularity started in Germany in the 1800s. But it really skyrocketed after Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. All that hi-hoing and off-to-work-we’re-going highlighted their charm … even though a dwarf is not technically the same as a gnome. Really, did you think they were?!

Their mythical DNA shows distinct differences from each other. In the world of fairytale creatures, dwarves are wise, friendly, hardworking and populate the forests and mountains. Gnomes, not so friendly characters who live underground.

So gnomes have different genomes. Aha! Vindication for my quirkiness with the English language. What are the odds that these two words would be so similar? 158,662,334 to 1. Ok, I made that up. But these are storybook characters, so a little exaggeration is forgivable. Except for that fact that these miniature gartenzwerges (that’s German) have been elevated to human-like existence, imbued with rights and freedoms.

The Garden Gnome Liberation Front, an organization with the sole purpose of liberating gnomekind everywhere, has issued a call to arms to alleviate the cruelty garden gnomes are forced to endure when stolen out of their outdoor environment. This is real. There’s even a Facebook page in support of this gnoble endeavor. No longer will gnomes be discriminated against because of their inability to stand-up for themselves … or to stand up at all.

Even the world’s most prestigious gardening event in the world, The Chelsea Flower Show, banned these tacky little people from the grounds of their show for 100 years, only to bend to popular demand and allow them back into the show’s garden beds a few years ago. Gnomophobes took a back seat to kitschy charm.

And charming they are, literally. Considered a lucky talisman by millions around the world, the garden gnome has moved well past its Germanic motif and into the realm of multi-cultural relevance. You’ll find them with a sombrero, in a bathing suit, with a jersey from a favorite sports team, dressed as Jerry Garcia and Uncle Sam and, now, there are even female gnomes.

Never let it be said that gnome genomes are resting on their garden laurels.

Pumpkin Spice ... Treat, or Trick?

Last April when I planted my pumpkin seeds, I was dreaming of pumpkin pie, pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin soup, pumpkin pancakes and, well, just all things pumpkin. But one thing I wasn’t thinking about was pumpkin spice, a trend that has literally taken over the fall season.

It sent me on a quest to understand what’s up with this spice combination. Clearly it’s not about the pumpkin taste, since this blend does not have one ounce of pumpkin in it … not a smidgeon or a pinch or a dash or even a suggestion of pumpkin flavor.

So, what is it? It’s a mixture of cinnamon, cloves, ginger, nutmeg and sometimes allspice. Are you paying attention? No pumpkin! In a season of trick-or-treating, this is one big trick! My search for understanding of this pumpkin-less phenomenon led me to another shocking discovery.  The canned pumpkin my grandma uses to make her award-winning pumpkin pie (at least in my book) is not … are you ready for this … pumpkin. What!?

It’s true. The sole ingredient in Libby’s, most popular canned pumpkin, is cucurbia moschata, a type of squash also known as Dickinson gourd. It’s similar in shape and size to a butternut squash but very far removed from the species most jack-o-lanterns are carved from. You’d be hard-pressed to carve anything other than you initials on this gourd.

What a ruse! Yet another trick-or-treat gambit, leaving me once again feeling swindled, defrauded and cheated out of my first delicious bite of the de facto culinary icon of the season … pumpkin pie! The experience is forever changed for me knowing that the pumpkin is really a spiced-up squash interloper.

And everywhere I turn, I am reminded of this overwhelming fraud perpetuated on all of us pumpkin lovers. The pumpkin spice flavor-of-the-month marketing ploy has brought us an overflowing cornucopia of products infused with this no-it-does-not-taste-like-pumpkin seasoning (pardon my editorial comments, unless you agree!) and include:

Pumpkin spice french fries - Never.

Bailey’s pumpkin spice Irish Cream - Maybe in my coffee.

Pumpkin spice Cheerios - Why?

Pumpkin spice Triscuit - Served with what?

Pumpkin spice wine - If you’re desperate.

Pumpkin spice chocolate truffles - Chocolate would never be the same for me.

Pumpkin spice latte Peeps - Who eats Peeps of any flavor?

Chipotle pumpkin spice salsa - Ok, perhaps with the right chip.

Pumpkin spice marshmallows - Not even on S’mores.

Pumpkin spice moonshine - Hmmm … a possibility.

Pumpkin spice pretzel nuggets - Yuck.

Pumpkin spice Mini Wheats - Does the milk turn orange?

Nestle pumpkin spice morsels - Not in my cookies.

Keebler pumpkin spice fudge stripe cookies - No, just wrong.

Pumpkin spice coffee liqueur - Again, depends on the morning.

Pumpkin spice stuffed pretzel - Maybe deep fried.

Pumpkin spice caramel corn - Nope!

Pumpkin spice almonds - In with trail mix?

Pumpkin spice M&Ms - No, no, no!

I refuse to be drawn into buying any of these seasonal sensations. Of course, if some bright botanist comes up with a pumpkin spice pumpkin I can grow, I might reconsider.

Dog Day Afternoon

Labor Day. A well-deserved celebration for all who have worked or are still, currently, working. Today, the actual holiday is the final day of this three-day holiday weekend that, in addition to honoring workers, marks the end of the summer season.

The end of summer. Hmmm. Strangely, this got me thinking about hot dogs.

When I was a kid, I pretty much only wanted to eat hot dogs (and Oreos, another story, another time). My dad, a foodie well before that was even a term, liked everything so dinner time meals were always a wide range of cuisine. Didn’t matter to my unsophisticated palate … I was a hot dog devotee.

Fast forward to adulthood and the realization that hot dogs may not be the most nutritious food. This awareness didn’t change my love of frankfurters, just how often I ate them. And that is where the summer season, defined as the months between Memorial Weekend and Labor Day, shines for me. It is a license to eat hot dogs.

In the three months between these two holidays, known as hot dog season, more than 7 billion are eaten by Americans (according to the National Hot Dog and Sausage Council), about 800 per second. This is attributed to a number of factors: July is National Hot Dog Month, people taking vacations, as well as an increase in backyard barbecues.

Disclaimer here: I eat one each on Memorial Day, Fourth of July and Labor Day! And I mix it up. Chicken, turkey, all beef, sausage, foot longs, corn dogs; I like them boiled, grilled, pan or deep fried. And I’ve been known to just buy one at Costco … the convenience, and the yumminess, are hard to pass up.

My favorite, however, is the way my Baba used to make them for me. She’d pan fry them in butter, slice them to fit between two pieces of her home made bread and then slather with a little ketchup. The heat of the hog dog warmed up the ketchup and softened the bread, just a perfect taste sensation and one of my fondest childhood food memories!

So today, in tribute to my Baba, my dog day afternoon will be celebrated with an adaptation of her signature style with a few twists of my own. I’ll add a dollop of sweet pickle relish and a sprinkle of cheddar cheese, complemented by a cold beer!

As the summer season comes to a close, so does hot dog season. I’m resigned to putting my desire for a dawg on hold, held at bay by an eager anticipation of next year’s season.

"I'm Melting, I'm Melting"

In the classic 1939 film version of the Wizard of Oz, Dorothy, played by Judy Garland, inadvertently throws a bucket of water on the Wicked Witch of the West causing her to melt. As she’s shrinking, she cackles, “I’m melting, I’m melting.”

As I stood at the terminus of the Athabasca Glacier recently, which is retreating, aka melting, at a little over 16 feet a year, that refrain was all I could hear in the silence of this spectacular buildup of ice, part of the massive Columbia Ice Field in Canada’s Rocky Mountains. It’s easily accessible, although the hike is sobering. There are markers along the trail identifying how much the glacier has retreated since 1890, about 1500 meters (just short of a mile for us non-metric system people).

I crossed paths with many glaciers on my two-month journey through Alaska and Canada, predominately alpine glaciers I explored through my binoculars from a distance. All were impressive; long white arms of ice seemingly emanating right out of a mountain peak. These frozen rivers, formed over millenniums, creep downward, scraping away at the terrain, sculpting the landscape. I didn’t expect to be so captivated by these breathtaking natural wonders, but I was. And saddened by the fact that they’re disappearing.

It’s impossible to be in the presence of a retreating glacier and not be sobered by the effects of climate change. Not making a political statement, just acknowledging that the weather on this planet we all live on is changing … it’s getting hotter. Why? Well, so many theories compounded by so much disagreement on the cause makes it difficult to answer that. Not going to even try.

I’m not a scientist, just a believer in the merits of doing everything we can to take good care of our communal home. I’m not going to sermonize, experts much more knowledgeable than I am on the climate have done that — so often and so stridently that I think it falls on deaf ears more often than not now. There are just too many variables to a workable solution, one that could be embraced by the world populace.

But there are steps we can all take. One I’ve taken is to participate in the United Nations’ Act Now program. It identifies 17 Sustainable Development Goals designed to transform our world. It is a call for action to all countries in an effort to “promote prosperity while protecting the planet.” Goals include, of course, affordable and clean energy, clean water and sanitation, climate action, as well as addressing broader social issues like poverty, hunger, quality education, reduced inequalities and decent work and economic growth. There’s a call to each of us to choose an issue and make an impact. I chose “Healthy Planet.” And there’s an app — aWorld — where I can track the impact of my actions and those of a a global community committed to making a difference. It’s a simple way to be part of the climate change conversation.

In a moment of undue stress, Dorothy acted! She just wanted to get home. We can’t click red ruby slippers like Dorothy did, but we can, in this moment of undue stress to the planet, act. Because there’s just no place like our home.

Memorable People = Memorable Trip

A road trip is so much more than just heading down the highway. For me, the highlights are the people I meet along the way who make the journey so memorable. Here are some of the unforgettable people I ran into:

Grace - Richardson Highway, on the road to Valdez, AK. There’s a saying here, "8 months of winter and 4 months of road construction!” We were in it! As we headed out of Valdez we ran into Grace at out first traffic stop. It was drippy and cold, so we offered her a pistachio muffin and a fizzy water. What a smile! She passed us on up to our next stop, Allison.

Allison - Richardson Highway, on the road to Valdez, AK. We followed a pilot car to our next traffic stop and met Allison … so kind and considerate about our being delayed; she updated us on the progress of the construction project. We gave her a muffin too!

Taylor, Kluane Museum of History, Burwash Landing, Yukon. This museum is a fascinating compilation of the indigenous plants, animals, rocks, minerals of the Yukon, in addition to an amazing display representing the culture of the Southern Tutchone people. And Taylor was an informative docent.

Emily - Kluane National Park and Reserve, Thachal Dhal Visitor Center, Yukon. Meeting someone who clearly is passionate about their work is a joy. We found that in Emily, just an incredible font of knowledge about the park and so excited to share it!

Ethan - Major Marine Tours, Seward, AK. Ethan made us margaritas with ice from a glacier … nothing better than that!

Sophia, Village Bakery, Haines Junction, Yukon. We met locals Dave and Lois at Kluane Lake Campground. The gave us a lot of good advice about the area. The most important piece of information was to not miss a stop at the Village Bakery. They were right! Sophia makes a fabulous latte. And the food is incredible.

David and Kath, Jilkaat Kwaan Heritage Center, Haines, AK. This brother / sister dynamic duo are the heart and soul of this museum. It houses a phenomenal collection of items representative of the Tlingit tribe’s rich history. It was an honor to spend time with them and hear their stories.

Tanna - Alaska Made Goods, Haines, AK. We were looking for some local salmon. We found it and Tanna, a local expert on what to buy.

Robert - The Beach Rose by Adventure Harvest, Haines, AK. Locally owned shop showcasing locally made artwork and handmade products from local ingredients. Try the spruce tip syrup … you won’t regret it.

Alicia ( on left) - Bamboo Room and Pioneer Bar, Haines, AK. A centerpiece of downtown Haines, this eatery has been serving customers since 1953. We ate here twice, and both times were served by Alicia, a lovely and charming Irish lass who was spending the summer months working and exploring the area.

Teri - Haines, Alaska Marine Ferry System. Our ferry had a engine problem which left our homeward bound voyage in jeopardy of leaving on time. But Teri assured us that all would be well … and it was. She also told us ferry food was great - it was; the showers were hot and refreshing - they were; the beds comfortable - true; and the voyage itself unforgettable … IT WAS!

Ferry Crew - Columbia, Alaska Marine Highway Ferry System. Bosun Wade (left) arranged a tour of the bridge for us where me met the ship’s Pilot, Erica, as well as other members of the bridge crew. Our ferry experience, through the Inland Passage, was a tophighlight of our trip. The seas were calm, the speed slow enough to enjoy the passing scenery, but the entire shipboard crew set a high watermark of service, kindness and just plain fun!

Top of the World

As we traveled the Top of the World Highway, crossing from Canada to Alaska, it was the first time in our trip that I actually felt the enormity of the landscape we’d been driving through. By the time we forded the Yukon River, on the George Black ferry at Dawson City, we’d already pushed through Alberta, British Columba and the Northwest and Yukon Territories … about 3,000 miles … all of which was a panorama of stunning terrains. Snow capped peaks, boreal forests, deep glacier-cut verdant valleys, turquoise-green rivers and lakes, alpine meadows awash with wildflowers. Yes, it was all phenomenal.

But driving along the crest of the mountains and hills over which the Highway traverses unlocked a view that created the illusion that we were, indeed, at the top of the world. Even though, literally, we weren’t.

We were, however, above the tree line at about 5,000 feet. From that vantage point, the massive peaks of the Alaskan range dominated the distant horizon, carving a jagged gash across the skyline. The enormous grandeur of the Yukon River, the largest in the Territory, echoed the size of a rivulet as it snaked along the valley floor, at the base of steep vertical drops originating at the ridge line. A crush of crazy, Dr. Seuss-like black spruce trees, bent and withered by the brutality of their environment covered the hillsides below us.

Above us … blue sky for miles, broken only by the occasional cloud.

Even though I wasn’t, actually, standing at the top of the world, the enormity of feeling incredibly small was humbling. I marveled at the extraordinary scenery as I contemplated the panorama stretched out below me.

What a place, this Earth we all call home. So deserving of our stewardship.

Let’s just be good stewards.

My Memorable Minutiae ... Oh Canada!

Canada is a huge country, the second largest in the world after Russia. It stretches from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean. There are a lot of interesting facts about this, the largest country in North America: Winnie the Pooh was inspired by a bear from here, a few of the country’s national parks are larger than some countries, it is home to 10% of the world’s forests, license plates in the Northwest Territories are shaped like bears, and, well,   too many more to list. Yes, these facts are fascinating, but I discovered some of my own thought-provoking trivia:

Of Greatest Importance

There are no snakes in the Yukon Territory. Hiking is fear-free!

A bonus: there are no ticks either!

Rock Flour

I’m a bread maker. My go to loaf is whole wheat, but I’ve made sourdough, rye, white and pumpernickel. I’ve tried my hand at foccacia, baguettes, ciabatta, brioche and even flatbread. I’ve even made a few bricks. When the bread dries out you can use it as a door stop. You’ll thank me one day for this tip.

What I know about flour is that each one has a different purpose. Bread flour: high protein, good gluten structure. Pastry and cake flour, ok obvious. All purpose flour, that’s self-explanatory. You get my finely ground drift.

When I came across the term rock flour, also known as glacier flour, my curiosity was piqued. Here’s what it is. Glacial erosion grinds down rock into fine-grained, silt-sized particles. The pulverized rock particles absorb and scatter sunlight in a way that I don’t really understand, but what I saw was water with a striking blue-green color.

So grist mills and glaciers have a lot in common. Both grind something into a fine powder. One for food, the other, well, it was, certainly, food for my soul.

Inukshuks

The word means “in the likeness of a human.” These wonderful figures, made of stone, are distinctly Canadian. Built by the Inuit, they are found all over the Canadian Arctic. Similar to a cairn, they were used as markers for navigation, travelers and sacred places. Beautiful and unique, they are characteristic icons of Inuit culture.

I bought one in Tukoyaktuk, NWT made by an artist with stones from the Arctic Circle. It just might help me find my way back.

Sourdough Finisher

I have the following on good authority, from Kristen at the Visitor Center in Dawson City, NWT: During the Gold Rush that brought thousands of “stampeders” to the territory, many did not have enough food to really thrive,. Some made a sourdough starter — flour, water, yeast, which is live in the air — which they kept under their arm during the winter to keep it warm. If the miner made it through the winter he was dubbed a “sourdough.”

I’m going to suggest to my brother, who makes an amazing sourdough bread, that this process might make it even better!

Flower Power

As an avid gardener, I pay attention to all things plants, especially flowers. As we drove through British Columbia, Alberta, Yukon and Northwest Territories I noticed hanging baskets, pots, window boxes and gardens full of flowers.

I was told it’s a way to acknowledge the end of winter and celebrate springtime. A tribute to the reawakening of the earth, post winter freeze and the explosion of lushness that happens.

This custom is all about joy … and the lightheartedness that comes with planting flowers for the sheer delight they bring.

The People —

1) Annie - our intrepid hike guide at Tombstone Territorial Park.
2) Sherene and Brian - full of information at the Northwest Territories Visitor Center
3) Jay - ferried us across the Yukon River in Dawson City with no hiccups
4) Depute Chief Taylor - what a tour of the Dawson City Fire Fighters Museum
5) Nick Virgil - USFS Information Officer - an encyclopedia of “best spots” in Alaska
6) Tim and Ashley - the best sourdough pancakes at Sourdough Campground in Tok, AK
7) Kristen - just a delight, at the Dawson City Visitor Information Centre

We Didn't Find Gold in the Yukon or See the Northern Lights in the Northwest Territory but ...

We kept heading north out of British Columbia, jumped on the Alaska Highway towards Whitehorse, YT on our way to wiggle our toes in the Arctic Ocean. The Dempster Highway was our route in, the last big push to our goal … as far north as we could get on a road in the Northwest Territories. Since we weren’t in a hurry, we stopped … a lot … along the way. Our highlights:

• I’m a sucker for leaving and entering signs. Don’t miss taking a pic at the bright blue Yukon sign. Turn around and get a pic of the entering British Columbia sign too!

• We made a pit stop at the Yukon Hotel. Good thing, the cinnamon rolls are gooey delicious.

• The Provincial campgrounds are great, but most don’t have showers. We overnighted at Caribou RV Park, just outside of Whitehorse, YT. Sandra and Stuart have created a welcoming haven for weary travelers who need a bath!

• We were poking around in Carmachs, YT, checking for the visitor center where we ran into a Royal Canadian Mounted Police reserve officer checking us out. She was brimming with information. She will forever be Yukon Deb to us. You might see her cruising town in the summer months.

• Five Fingers Rapids Recreation Site — stop at the overlook for info and incredible views of the Yukon River, the fourth-longest river in North America. It carried a lot of stampeders in search of gold during the Klondike Gold Rush.

• Capture in one photo the trek north at the Arctic Ocean / Dempster Highway sign at the turn-off junction from the Alaska Highway.

• Don’t miss a guided tour of Goldensides Trail at Tombstone Territorial Park. It’s a hike through 2 billion years of geological history.

• Eagle Plains Hotel for fuel for both you and your vehicle.

• Photo op at the Arctic Circle kiosk, plus spectacular panoramic views.

• Haven’t been on a car ferry in awhile, here’s your chance … at Peel, Mackenzie and Yukon Rivers.

• Stop in and say hi to Nikkia at Western Arctic Regional Visitors Center and pick up your Arctic Circle Adventurer certificate. It makes a great placemat!

• At the end of the road, literally, is Tuktoyaktuk and the Arctic Ocean. Try the mukluk with HP sauce at Grandma’s Kitchen.

• Spend a day in Dawson City. This Iconic gold mining town on the banks of the Yukon River has a easy pace about it. A great place to decompress and regroup.

• What’s a pingo? You’ll find out at Pingo National Monument. Hint: it’s not an animal!

• Be on the lookout for bears, moose, caribou and, the ever present, pika.

• Boondock —just about anywhere. Turn everything off and just enjoy the quiet.

Fun Facts — Canada’s Yukon once was home to the Wooly Mammoth. Today, they’ve vanished but it can now boast it has more moose than people. The Northwest Territory is nearly twice the size of Texas and is home of the midnight sun.

As we prepare to leave Canada for Alaska, it is with a heartfelt appreciation for a country that has been ranked “one of the kindest countries in the world.”

See You! Canadian Rockies

Rugged and ragged. Waterfalls. Blue-green glacial lakes. Bears. Columbines. Snow-topped peaks. Avalanches (far away!). Mountain goats. Banff. Jasper. Elk. Glaciers. Hiking. Kayaking. Campground coffee. Pine trees. Aspens. Traveling buddies. Mt. Robson. Indian paintbrush. National Parks.

All of the above enhanced by enormous, stupendous natural beauty, that’s The Canadian Rockies. The country’s branch of the United States’ Rocky Mountain range are just glorious. They’re defined by the glacial activity that formed them. This results in more jagged peaks and broad valleys gouged by moving glaciers. That’s the extent of my geology expertise, but I’ll tell you as I hiked up, around, across and over I knew I was someplace extraordinary. As much as I love California’s Sierra Nevada range, these mountains are nipping at their foothills!

There is no better feeling for me than the view from the top of a mountain. More often than not, nowadays, getting there pushes me to the ragged edges of my endurance. I start strong, but I always reach a point where I wonder, “what made me think this was a good idea?” And then I’m at the top and well, of course, there’s the reward … the 360° panorama, made just a little better by sitting on a ledge eating a sandwich, admiring the unfolding landscape.

Massive clouds, up-close-and-personal. Distant peaks, so much closer … let’s go there next. (OK, that’s the thin air affecting my brain.) Snow fields begging for snow angels. Snow pack on the verge of avalanche. Little tiny people scurrying up the trail. Enormous snow-melt waterfalls cascading down rock faces.

Headed down there’s always time for reflection (it’s so much easier and faster). John Muir said “The mountains are calling and I must go.” And my Dad said, towards the end of a very active outdoor life, “sadly, eventually your legs just give out.” When mine do, it’ll be fine. The call to a viewpoint will still happen. It might just be a knoll or sand dune, or even just the slope up to my front door. I’ll be happy with the view of the 200-year-old oak tree from that spot.

When in Alberta and British Columbia ...

We spent the last nine days exploring two of Canada’s most beautiful provinces. Here’s what we discovered:

• Even though Going to the Sun Highway in Glacier National Park crosses into Canada, no one’s checking passports.

• Near Canal Flats, just south of Banff, is a lovely HipCamp campground. Blacksmith Landing EcoCamp hosts Berny and Stuart are delightful. Don’t miss the homemade pot pies and cinnamon rolls or the hike to the Kootenay River overlook.

• Banff National Park - hike to the upper Tea House for spectacular views of Lake Louise, yummy sandwiches (fresh-baked bread!), hot tea of course, and a welcome 10 mile downhill basking in the delight of a strenuous accomplishment … and a full tummy.

• Japser National Park - take your bear spray ‘cuz they’re there! Town is charming. Stop at Waffalato —— give the avocado toast on a waffle a try!

• Make the drive along the Yellowhead Highway to Prince Rupert. Along the way say hi to camp host Tim at Beaumont Provincial Park, catch the morning sunrise at Prudhomme Lake Provincial Park, check out the Rinse Rupert laundromat and say hey to attendant Margie, eat fresh-caught halibut fish and chips at Bob’s on the Rocks (even in the rain it was mouthwateringly good), grab a coffee at Cowpuccini Coffee House, stop at every pullout (ok pick a few) along the Skeena River for a photo op.

• Driving the Cassiar Highway … lakes , rivers, lakes , rivers, lakes, rivers! Did I mention the lakes and rivers?!

• We put our kayak in at Boya Lake Provincial Park. The glassy blue/green/turquoise/cobalt glacier water was like gliding through a kaleidoscope.

Off to the Yukon!

A Look at New Worlds

I was sitting in line to cross the border into Canada recently, a little bored, so I started flipping through my passport reminiscing about where I’ve been when I discovered this quote from Ellison S. Onizuka on the very last page: “Every generation has the obligation to free men’s minds for a look at new worlds … to look out from a higher plateau than the last generation,” (He was the first Asian American and the first person of Japanese origin to reach space. Sadly, he died in the Challenger explosion.)

It got me thinking about new worlds and the trip I’ve embarked on. I’ve always wanted to see Alaska. My brother, quite the traveler, has been many times. He says it’s life-changing. He’s older so it’s in my nature to believe him. He supports his opinion with words like expansive, enormous, breathtaking and wild. Ok, maybe wild is my word, but it’s a good one and I think he’d use it, too.

Anyway, as I sat waiting to cross the border, in our moving-through-space RV,, Mr. Ozunika’s words were bouncing around my brain and I realized just how germane his thought was to my desire to see Alaska.

Here’s what I love about traveling. It reminds me of how my life is really so similar to someone’s in Wyoming or Montana or Canada and, soon Alaska. As a traveler I’m on the sidelines of people’s lives, especially traveling in an RV. When you park next to someone in a campground even for just one night, if you’re open to it, you can hear their story. Campground mates are convenient friends. I love that. After just a few minutes of getting-to-know each other it’s clear that their lives are not too dissimilar to mine. Kids, jobs, travel stories … we’re sharing what’s important to us, finding that common thread that creates a connection, no longer strangers. Traveling creates this type of connection over and over … talking to a hiker along a trail or a cashier at the grocery store; getting information at a visitor center or local lore from a waiter.

Circling back around to my starting point to this introspection — “…to free men’s minds for a look at new worlds … .” It occurred to me sitting at the border crossing that new worlds are right in front of us all the time. They don’t have to be as far away as outer space, or even Alaska. We just have to free our minds to see them and the people we meet along the way “from a higher plateau” of understanding.

Hmmm … and actually my brother probably wouldn’t use the adjective wild. He doesn’t like it when I put words in his mouth. It’s an older brother younger sister thing!

National Park Frenzy!

Slipped through Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Park before the crowds! First time on Going to the Sun Road at Glacier National Park …didn’t see the sun much, but what we did see was spectacular!

Big Wyoming

Wyoming has many nicknames — Suffrage State, Equality State, Sagebrush State, Cowboy State — but the one I think captures its essence is, Big Wyoming.The enormity of the state is staggering. Not just in  real estate, it’s ranked as only the 10th biggest state in the country in size, but in the character of that real estate. Rugged mountains. Verdant prairie grasslands. Forested hills. Even an arid desert. The vastness of Wyoming is staggering.

We’ve bisected the state, traveling across plateaus at elevations above 6,000 feet, from the Colorado to Montana border, paralleling mountain ranges that boast some of the tallest peaks in the country. There were times, as I sat spellbound in my navigator’s seat staring out the window, that I couldn’t see any visible evidence of human habitation. Just sage brush, from the highway to the horizon. We passed a number of historical markers, identifying segments of the Oregon Trail. It made me reflect on early pioneers, crossing the west on that  rugged thoroughfare. What were they thinking?

Well, here’s what I’m thinking as I travel across Wyoming. The appeal of a landscape as awe-inspiring as this in the least populated state in the country provides an opportunity to really experience quiet moments. The cacophony of the 40 million people in my home state of California is overwhelming. Dissonant noise is ever-present. But here is quiet, broken only by the harmonious sounds emanating from the “wide open spaces” (thank you Dixie Chicks) that populate the state.

Stand still long enough and you just might hear the sharp whinnying call of a pronghorn or the chattering of a magpie or the bugle of an elk. Stand still even longer in the right spot and you might hear the grunt of a moose as it wanders into view.

I’m also thinking that Wyoming’s terrain just makes me feel good. It’s a landscape that says, “take a deep breath and rest in the stillness, for just a little while.” Something we all need, more often than we think.

But in between finding peace and solitude, be sure to stop at the Farson Mercantile in Farson for a colossal ice cream cone. That, too, is a feel good moment.

Wandering With Warti

Warti - Winnebago Revel Sprinter Van! Warti - fellow adventurer & traveling companion!

Road trip! An immediate rush of excitement. curiosity and wanderlust kicks in when I hear these two words. Then my planning genes kick into high gear and a trip to AAA for maps sets the whole get-in-the-RV-and-go feeling in motion. We were all prepped to travel to Alaska and Canada in 2020; then, as we all know, COVID dominated our lives. Canada was closed and California was in lockdown.

Three years later, though, and it’s time to go! Maps unfolded, highlighters came out, mileage was calculated, ferry schedules were double-checked, campgrounds reserved and dates chosen.

Warti got Warti ready… so confusing, even for me. Nevertheless, we packed up the RV and left home for two months of exploration beginning in Savery, WY at our friends’ Boyer YL Ranch. It’s in a spectacular location, situated along the Savery Creek at the northern end of the Little Snake River Valley. You can stay here too!

From here we head north to Grand Teton, Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks. We cross into Canada at Eureka, MT and then …. well, you’ll just have to follow along as our journey unfolds.

A few hints … there’s a good chance we’ll stop at the Farson Merc in Farson, WY, “Home of the Big Cone.”

And sit down for a Huckleberry Burger at Front Porch Dewey Burger & Fish Co. in Eureka, MT. The attraction? It’s served with a scoop of huckleberry ice cream … on the burger!

Maybe we’ll eat blubber at Grandma’s Kitchen in Tukoyaktuk, as far north as we can get in the Northwest Territories.

We’re going to launch our kayak into a few lakes. Travel a few arduous highways. See a moose — I hope! And experience as much of Canada and Alaska as we can.

In short, we’re just going to wander. Stay tuned!

Note: Warti is short for Warthog … known for its strength, perseverance, loyalty and courage.

A few snapshots of the BoyerYL Ranch.

The Upside Down River

The Salinas River, known fondly as the “upside down river,” is the longest underground river in the country, flowing both above and below ground for about 175 miles from its headwaters in the Los Padres National Forest to the Monterey Bay Marine Sanctuary.

I’ve stood on every bridge in the Salinas Valley that crosses this river, captivated by its allure. I’ve explored the tributaries that feed it, ambled along its banks and wiggled my toes in the sand where it meets Monterey Bay. I’ve seen it lush and green in spring, bone dry in summer, slow-moving in fall and dark and grey in winter. I am never disappointed and always delighted by the meandering mark it leaves as it flows northwesterly toward the Pacific Ocean.

John Muir, famous for his rapturous perspective of the outdoors noted that, “Rivers flow not past, but through us; tingling, vibrating, exciting every cell and fiber in our bodies, making them sing and glide.”

He’s so right.

A river represents so much more than just its water flow. It’s a mixture of habitats, a source of energy, a home for wildlife, a wellspring of enjoyment and here, in the Salinas Valley, our river is the lifeblood for more than one million acres of farmland.

In its earliest existence, millenniums ago, the Salinas wasn’t a river at all, but a commingling of water droplets, part of an enormous sea that covered much of northwestern California. As the Santa Lucia and Gabilan mountains formed, not as many millenniums ago, the Salinas Valley began to take shape. Time passed. Erosion, drainage, rising temperatures all coalesced to shape the evolution of our river.

When the earliest peoples arrived about 10,000 years ago, the Salinas Valley was a patchwork of marshes and sloughs, vast grasslands and a slow-moving river that met the ocean in a salty quagmire, creating a jumble of lagoons that, as they shriveled in the summer heat, dried up leaving a coating of salt. That was the beginning of the nomenclature for the town to come. Salinas more or less translates to salt marsh.

The Ohlone, descendants of those first people, occupied the Salinas Valley for several thousands of years, making the most of the lush wetlands as hunter-gatherers, using the native grasses to create bee hive shaped huts, the abundant cottonwoods as fuel and harvesting acorns from the native oaks.

It wasn’t until 1769 when Spanish Captain Gaspar de Portola launched the first land expedition to traverse California in search of the bay General Sebastian Vizcaino described in 1602 that the river, snaking through the Salinas Plain, got its first moniker. He and his expedition were the first white men to lay eyes on it.

Portola named it the Rio San Elziario. Before cartographers settled on the name Salinas River in the 1860s, it was also known as Rio San Delfina, Rio del Monterey, Rio Santa Buenaventura and Rio Salinas. Along with the Spanish came Franciscan padres, architects of the mission system, which set in motion the commandeering of native land, culture and religion. The river was unscathed, but life changed dramatically for the peaceful people who had flourished on its banks.

The river, though, had a secret life that only the Native Indians, who had lived in harmony with it for centuries, understood — it was ungovernable. Cycles of flooding and drought made the river destructive and undependable. As the river flowed, fortunes were made and lost. But that didn’t stop ranchers and farmers from trying to tame it, control it, bend it to their will.

Only natural forces could make that happen. In 1906, the earthquake that rocked San Francisco diverted the river six miles south from its original outlet, cutting a new channel north of Marina.

What a reminder about the formidable forces that govern our planet. Nature’s hidden power is found in its yin and yang temperament, the symmetry of strength and surrender is the essence of its resilience.

The irrepressible Salinas River is, indeed, resilient. Its course has been changed, dams have impeded its flow, irrigation has siphoned off its water, drought has impacted its effectiveness, flooding its bearing and yet it, with quiet solemnity, drifts along.

It's Pumpkin Time

Last April when I planted my pumpkin seeds, I was dreaming of pumpkin pie, pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin soup, pumpkin pancakes and, well, just all things pumpkin. But one thing I wasn’t thinking about was pumpkin spice, a trend that has literally taken over the fall season. 

It sent me on a quest to understand what’s up with this spice combination. Clearly it’s not about the pumpkin taste, since this blend does not have one ounce of pumpkin in it … not a smidgeon or a pinch or a dash or even a suggestion of pumpkin flavor.

So, what is it? It’s a mixture of cinnamon, cloves, ginger, nutmeg and sometimes allspice. Are you paying attention? No pumpkin! In a season of trick-or-treating, this is one big trick! My search for understanding of this pumpkin-less phenomenon led me to another shocking discovery.  The canned pumpkin my grandma uses to make her award-winning pumpkin pie (at least in my book) is not … are you ready for this … pumpkin. What!?

It’s true. The sole ingredient in Libby’s,the most popular canned pumpkin, is cucurbia moschata, a type of squash also known as Dickinson gourd. It’s similar in shape and size to a butternut squash but very far removed from the species most jack-o-lanterns are carved from. You’d be hard-pressed to carve anything other than you initials on this gourd. 

What a ruse! Yet another trick-or-treat gambit, leaving me once again feeling swindled, defrauded and cheated out of my first delicious bite of the de facto culinary icon of the season … pumpkin pie! The experience is forever changed for me knowing that the pumpkin is really a spiced-up squash interloper. 

And everywhere I turn, I am reminded of this overwhelming fraud perpetuated on all of us pumpkin lovers. The pumpkin spice flavor-of-the-month marketing ploy has brought us an overflowing cornucopia of products infused with this no-it-does-not-taste-like-pumpkin seasoning and include (pardon my editorial comments, unless you agree!):

Pumpkin spice french fries - Never.
Bailey’s pumpkin spice Irish Cream - Maybe in my coffee.
Pumpkin spice Cheerios - Why?
Pumpkin spice Triscuit - Served with what?
Pumpkin spice wine - If you’re desperate.
Pumpkin spice chocolate truffles - Chocolate would never be the same for me.
Pumpkin spice latte Peeps - Who eats Peeps of any flavor?
Chipotle pumpkin spice salsa - Ok, perhaps with the right chip.
Pumpkin spice marshmallows - Not even on S’mores.
Pumpkin spice moonshine - Hmmm … a possibility.
Pumpkin spice pretzel nuggets - Yuck.
Pumpkin spice Mini Wheats - Does the milk turn orange?
Nestle pumpkin spice morsels - Not in my cookies.
Keebler pumpkin spice fudge stripe cookies - No, just wrong.
Pumpkin spice coffee liqueur - Again, depends on the morning.
Pumpkin spice stuffed pretzel - Maybe deep fried.
Pumpkin spice caramel corn - Nope!
Pumpkin spice almonds - In with trail mix? 
Pumpkin spice M&Ms - No, no, no!

I refuse to be drawn into buying any of these seasonal sensations. Of course, if some bright botanist comes up with a pumpkin spice pumpkin I can grow, I might reconsider.