Yosemite National Park

She says:

I’ve been hesitant to write, much like the way when I witness something truly breathtaking I am rarely moved to take a picture. I am not a very skilled photographer and I am often disappointed with the photo I’ve taken and more so disappointed in the amount of effort that went into that photo and took me away from the moment. After many failed attempts I’ve decided to take in the beauty of the moment and preserve it in memory. And so, as we approach Yosemite I become overwhelmed with the unbelievable views, and the feelings just get more intense after we entered the park. I felt like I could sit among the incredible edifices of rock for years and I still wouldn’t be able to take it all in.

The west feels so alive to me. As we pass through the rolling granite of Tuolumne Meadows you can almost imagine a sea of liquified granite flowing freely, eons before in this very place. The frozen statues of cresting granite waves now greet the visitors of Yosemite entering from the east. The meadows are punctuated by the clearest of lakes (which Moby whines at as we pass, begging for us to stop so he can go for a swim.) From certain points in the meadows you can capture a glimpse of Half Dome, the 8,836 ft granite dome that explodes out of the 4,000 ft valley floor. The dome that is famous to all rock climbers and most outdoor enthusiasts, a goal for some, demanding respect from all.

The valley is an hour drive from the meadows and a good 6,000 ft elevation loss, as we drive the winding roads with steep drop-offs I am reminded of my mother's fear of heights (a trait I pretend not to have and blame on genetics when my hands start to sweat.) I remember one road trip in particular, it was the summer between 5th and 6th grade and my mother and I were driving up to Cadillac Mountain in Maine. I had been hearing about Acadia National Park and Cadillac Mountain from my 5th Grade teacher Mr. Mac all year, and as we start to ascend the largest coastal mountain on the east coast flutterbugs of excitement formed in my tummy.

I take in the beauty of my surroundings until I hear a muffled whimper coming from the driver's side of the car. I look over to find my mother’s face flush and soaked with tears. A weary voice follows, “I’m sorry Elizabeth, I tried, I know how much you want to see Cadillac Mountain, but I feel like I am going to throw up I’m so nervous. I keep thinking we are going to drive right off the side of the mountain”

Seeing my mother crying as we wind up the steeped cliff road is more than I can handle. I reach in to find some bravery to try to calm her, but all that comes is an explosion of tears to match my mother’s. “Its okay” I tearfully console her, my hands instantly in a sweat. There is no place to turn on this narrow road and with the trail of cars behind us my mother is forced to continue. We sit quietly, trying to imagine ourselves anywhere else, (anywhere that has flat land on either side of the road.) The road finally turns inward and comes to the first overlook in the park. My mother steps out of the car and looks for a friendly face to consult about the rest of the drive to the summit. An elderly couple calms all of my mothers fears telling her that the rest of the drive doesn’t involve any steep cliffs. As we pile back into the car, my mother desperately trying to muster the courage to continue, the man who just a moment ago attempted to comfort her now does one better. "If you would like, we can wait for you and we will drive ahead of you on the way back down the mountain, that way you can just focus on our car, take it slow and not have to think about the way the road looks like it runs right off the cliff."   My mother enthusiastically took them up on their offer and after making it to the top of Cadillac Mountain and back down again, my mother is convinced that this elderly couple is God-sent.

My thoughts come back to the present as we reach the valley floor and are greeted by El Capitain the 7,569 ft granite cliff that you can’t help but gape at. I know it’s a famous climbing area but it seems unfathomable once I’m here in person. After a quick scan of the cliff, most conclude “...no one must be climbing today.” Then as you look around and see others pointing to the cliff and talking about climbers and you think they must be crazy, there is no one there. Then you look again, adjust your scale and notice the ant size orange tee shirt or the sparkle of some climbing gear and the immensity of the granite cliff hits you once again. It takes your average crazy climber 3- 7 days to climb this cliff. If you visit El Capitain at night you can see the headlamps of all the climbers secure in their bivy sacks, strapped into porta-ledges anchored on the cliff side to sleep thousands of feet from horizontal ground. Just incredible.

We decide that after rarely paying for a campsite it is time to fork over some serious cash to the National Park to stay within the park boundaries for a few nights. Cold hard cash is hard to part with, but if I think of the fun serves that it allows us to partake in I am okay with it. At 7:30 with Moby in tow we head to the ranger talk campfire. The ranger talks are a big tradition at Yosemite, one I hope will continue. The rangers talk on a variety of topics; sometimes about their love of this land and how they became a ranger or their scary encounters with predators to interesting tales about the traits and characteristics of some of the animals found in the park. It's the kind of wholesome entertainment I have always loved and I hope I can always seek out. In the morning we grab our coffee mugs and head over to the the campfire circle for a free cup of joe and some mingling with some fellow campers. Chatting amongst the Yosemite campers is a great way to start the day, with the free caffeine running through my veins and stories of other's adventures in the states and around the world I am invigorated for the day.

So I LOVE the big towering trees of the Redwoods but overall I think Yosemite wins out and my favorite National Park thus far.

The Yosemite

he says:

What can one write or say that hasn’t already been said about America’s favorite national park. During college, I remember reading a lot of John Muir during upstate New York’s winters. His works, his experiences in the wild, untouched Yosemite and Tuolumne valley’s, his view that through wilderness was preservation of the world... spoke to me then, and probably laid the foundation for my love of wild, untouched places. That said, John Muir would be royally pissed if he saw the valley today. I won’t comment further on what the park has become, because even though it is a busy, tourist swamped place, it is still breathtakingly beautiful.
This was our first trip into the Yosemite Valley (I’ve been to the outer park before). Simply incredible. Inorganic wonders: El Capitan, Half Dome, Stately Pleasure Dome. Organic wonders: Tuolomne Meadows, beautiful rivers, and numerous groves of Giant Sequoia.

Our primary goal here is to climb granite. Cracks and slabs, flakes and faces. There is more rock here, more great classic routes, than anywhere else in the U.S. Granite domes, sheer cliffs, split by cracks and littered by detached flakes caused by the exfoliation of these massifs as they weather through the eons. Rough texture and polished patina, fixed bolts and traditional gear. This place is a climber’s playground.

We hit every climbing shop in and near the park, and we can’t seem to locate a climbing guide. So, we borrow guide from a pair of germans at the campsite next to ours. Elizabeth cooks dinner, while I sketch routes into a spiral notebook, marking the locations of anchors, features, and crux notes. It is painstaking, but it does not compare to the anguish we would feel once we were “lost” on a 500’ granite cliff.

With several pages of notes, route descriptions, and descent notes copied into my own hand, we are ready to tackle some new challenges.

Puppy Dome: Puppy Crack, 5.6. A two pitch (rope length) clean hand crack, continuous and fun. Easily protected, but lacking features outside of the crack. So we were literally ‘all in’, two hands and two feet swallowed by the crack, moving up slowly and surely. Ankles barking as we stand up on over supinated toe jams, knuckles bleeding from the bite of quartz and feldspar crystals, and finger tips throbbing from the abrasive treatment. Physical climbing.

Pothole Dome: Assorted toprope routes. Unprotectable slabs. Moving up blank faces on impossibly small hands and feet. Friction. Dime-thick edges. Balance. Delicate climbing.

Lembert Dome: Northwest Books, 5.9 variation. A moderate five pitch, 400’ cliff route with a beautiful pitch of undercling crack climbing, and a very exposed pitch of finger crack in a dihedral up high. We start early in the morning to beat the crowds.
It is cold, the sun is not yet on the west facing cliff, so we dress warmly. The climbing is smooth, our rope work is efficient. The 5.9 crux is awkward and very exposed, but the move is easily protected and we both move past it fluidly. The sun soon warms us as we top out on the bald granite dome. Our first big multi-pitch route together. Elizabeth climbs better every day, and the exposure did not seem to phase her. It would have been very understandable for her to have ‘freaked’ at the crux, but she climbed magnificently. I should have known...

Stately Pleasure Dome: West Country, 5.7. Another 450’ dome route, four moderate pitches and very exposed. The route overlooks a beautiful mountain lake and the Tioga Pass Road. The crack is steeper than I expected, but the moves are solid and is easily protected. Two hanging belays (belay stances on steep rock that require you to sit and hang in your harness) make it feel even more exposed than would big comfortable ledges along the route. Elizabeth impresses me by using the non-verbal communication I taught her when the wind and distance make verbal comms impossible. We use short, sharp tugs on the rope, much like morse code, to communicate “off-belay” “on-belay” “climbing”, etc. We top out, and do two 180’ rappels, followed by a rather steep granite ‘walk-off’.
Great climbs. Unmatched scenery. Unforgettable adventure.

Retire Today!... you may not get another chance...

he says:

What is it that drives a guy, mid-career, to drop it all and retire small?

There are many answers, but I am going to address one of the biggies. It may seem a bit incongruous, but the answer is:

Peak Oil.

Plainly put, it is the growing scientific consensus that we are at the world peak of petroleum production. The rate at which we can produce crude oil is at a maximum. It is not that we are running out, it is that we are running out of the ability to find and exploit large new fields that can replace the “elephants” that are currently in decline. So, as the rate of production falls, and world demand rises (on the backs of huge developing economies such as China, India, Russia, etc.)... we have a problem. (Google: M. King Hubbard, Matt Simmons, James H. Kuntsler to read more on peak oil)

Oil is everything. The fuel in our cars (obvious), the lights in our homes (still obvious), the food on our tables (fertilized with petroleum, protected with petroleum pesticides, harvested, processed, and transported with petroleum), the water we drink (pumped, filtered, and disposed of with petro-energy), the products we depend on (plastics! made from and shipped with petroleum)...on and on.

Some argue that the world population boom is the direct human recycling of petroleum. Billions of additional humans on this planet, only because we have been able to stretch the carrying capacity of the ecosystem using fossil fuel. Billions of extra mouths, all eating oil derivatives. Think about that one for a second. We’ve recycled a limited natural resource into the project of human reproduction, for the sole sake of human reproduction. Talk about futile.

The American Century (the 20th) was a story of industrial growth, economic vitality, and a middle class expansion that the world has never seen before. But I would submit to you that every bit of that growth was directly proportional to the increased production of oil. A 1:1 ratio. Pump more oil, experience more growth. The average American currently has the equivalent of 80-100 slaves working for him or her, and that slave power is derived from ancient solar energy that was captured and stored in the ancient sea life that became our dwindling fossil fuel reserves.

Think about that. We are so oil wealthy (sort of...but that is another blog) that the average american lives like a king of old. We are so far away from the mean human existence, that a modest return to something closer to normal is likely to spell serious political and social trouble.

So what? As we pass peak (2005 is widely believed to have been the world production peak), strange things will happen in the markets. $150 a barrel oil is just a warm up. The current credit crisis is only a symptom, and a minor one at that. Less cheap oil means a falling standard of living, across the board. Period.

So, for the middle-class American (me), I would expect:

• You will never be as wealthy as you were in 2005-06. Ever. Never. Get used to it.
  
• Your standard of living will slowly grind down, imperceptibly at first, then at an increasingly rapid rate as time marches on. In time, food will become the most expensive item in your family budget. 
  
• We will re-learn the following, very expensive, hard earned nugget: Real Estate is NOT an investment! A house is a depreciating asset, just like a car. It is expensive to maintain, and the taxes levied against it are significant. The over-worked printing presses of the US Treasury department have been printing cash (to buy huge quantities of foreign oil) so fast and for so long that the inflation created the illusion of wealth, and a post-war population bubble seemed to provide an endless supply of “greater fools” to bid up the prices.
  
• Retirement, in the standard mode of thinking, will never happen for my generation, and those that follow. We will work until the day we die. 
  
• We will care for our parents. We will re-learn the importance of family that was lost during the cheap oil land rush that made people think Phoenix was a nice place to live.
  
• Our lives will become “intensely local” to quote J.H. Kuntsler. We will walk places. Like to work, to the grocery. To dinner with friends.
  

Sounds grim, but it doesn’t have to be. That’s why I am retired today. I am determined to enjoy what the oil orgy has to offer. Gas at $15 a gallon would make this road trip impossible. Gas at $15 will seem cheap before long... I don’t pretend to have it all worked out yet, but what I do know is that the cheap oil bubble has popped. It’s gone forever. We will soon realize that what we’ve been thinking of as normal life, was far from it.

The real world, a place where invaluable, non-renewable, highly concentrated forms of energy are as expensive as they should be.

And yes, the book is in the works... hopefully I’ll have a manuscript completed this winter!!

Lake Tahoe!!

he says:

An outdoor playground, no matter the season. The cobalt blue lake, at 6,250’ above msl, is perfect for sailing, kayaking, swimming... you name the water sport, and it is happening on Lake Tahoe. The lake is ringed by mountains... granite massifs that contain some of the best big moderate rock routes in the west... places like Donner Summit, Lover’s Leap, and even the lil’ Pie Shop, just south of town. And the mountains, national forests, and the Desolation Wilderness, are all fantastic backpacking.

Add to that world class mountain biking and road riding, big mountain ski resorts, and casino’s on the Nevada side of town, and you’ve got yourself a playground!

So, we arrived in the area... and just like moving to a new town, it takes a bit of time to figure out the lay of the land. We spend the first few days kinda’ doing recon. Where are the cliffs and crags, where are the best beaches for dogs, and where is the nearest free camping. Not to mention, where can we go to get semi-free wi-fi (we will buy a cup of coffee for this convenience).

So after three days on the scene, here is how we spent our Wednesday.

Up before dawn, because we usually go to bed early (dark at ~8:15). I make a pot of turkish coffee (fine grounds in the water, strained through your teeth), Elizabeth makes a breakie of frosted mini-wheats with sliced banana and powdered milk. Once we are fueled up, we commute into town (7 miles, no traffic) and park at the beach.

We gear up for a run on the extensive bike path network that rings the lake. Mo, is going to sit this one out. He got stung on the paw in the Trinity Alps, and his left paw is still tender (he really hates bees now). We run for two hours, nice and easy considering the elevation. Then we walk with Mo and a pair of water bottles, hydrating and cooling down. It doesn’t take long to cool down, the wind is picking up, and the air temperature is in the low 70’s.

After the run, we roll across the road to Safeway, which has a wi-fi cafe at the front of the store. Endless internet, no purchase necessary. We email, blog, and surf the news. Nothing new.

Once we’ve had our fill of that, we roll back to the car, pack a beach bag, get Mo, and head to the beach. Elizabeth, Mo, and I swim in the startlingly clear water of the lake. The water is still warm, as the night time temperatures have only recently started to fall into the high 30’s. So, we swim and wash away the salt that accumulated on our skin while we ran. And Mo chases stick and fetches the tennis ball we found yesterday. Then we lie in the sun and dry and warm our skin/fur. We read our books, Mo curls in a ball and shivers himself warm. He always stays in the water too long.

At about 4:30ish, we pack up and head to the rock climbing crag we’ve been haunting, called The Pie Shop. A 200’ granite cliff that has a nice mix of routes. But today, the cliff is off the radar. Today, we are going to work on some boulder problems. Short, steep, tremendously difficult problems on, well, boulders. The idea is to crank really hard moves low to the ground (with a spotter), so that when you are climbing, you can crank through similar moves with confidence and ease. We find a few problems that seem reasonable, and we work on them for about 2 hours. We each top out on a couple of easier ones, and struggle on a more difficult problem. Next time. We’ll be sore tomorrow.

Back to camp, I start dinner, Elizabeth does yoga in the forest. I look over at her, and see moby taking a dump just beyond her. I guess he doesn’t get the subtle energies necessary to E’s focus. He is, however, ready for dinner. In a short while, we will share a bowl of rice and vegetables, seasoned with our new favorite spice, Goya Adobo.

After dark, a cup of tea while we read by headlamp. The moon has risen and Jupiter is bright. Soon, the three of us will crawl in and sleep well...

The National Park(way) Service

...an interview with a ranger...Ranger X.

I encountered an off duty national park(way) service ranger in a dimly lit bar, in a small town on the outskirts of one of the park(way)s. I lubed him with a few free drinks, knowing that his meager salary was probably the only limiting factor in this evenings binge. After a few hours of chit-chat, I asked if he would go on the record, anonymously, of course...

Me: Thanks for accepting my invitation. I bet you get few opportunities to speak candidly about the NPwS.

Mr. X: It is true, but what does it matter, the public is not smart enough to read anyway...

M: Wow! That is a fairly contemptuous thing to say. Is that view widely held?

X: Oh yes. We feel that the national park(way)s would be much much better if the public stayed at home. We find them to be fat, stupid, and bothersome.

M: But aren’t the national park(way)s supposed to be for the people to enjoy?

X: No. Absolutely not. That is a common misunderstanding. The national park(way)s are an elaborate series of very expensive toll roads, which wind through areas that we have deemed too valuable for the common public to enjoy. That is why we encourage people to come, pay the toll, ahem...I mean entry fee, and drive through.

M: Wait. You’re saying that you don’t want people to get out of their cars and enjoy the park(way)s?

X: No, of course not. We want people to enjoy the park(way)s from the climate controlled comfort of their vehicles. Oh, and we want them to stop at the gift shop, too! Very important for the mark, ahem...I mean guest, to spend time shopping along the park(way).

M: So in your view, the public is like a herd of sheep, to be corralled and fleeced... and by all means they should not spend time enjoying the beautiful portions of America that have been preserved for their benefit?

X: Better. If they were to linger along the park(way), could you imagine the traffic congestion, and parking issues? Not to mention how many trucks full of keychains and posters we would need to bring in to satisfy their compulsive shopping? It would destroy the roads, and we would have to raise the entrance fees, and the campground fees, and the shower fees...again, so that we can maintain the park(way).

M: So, essentially, you’re organization is a road maintenance outfit, with gift shops, elaborate rest areas called campgrounds, and elaborate viewpoints called trailheads.

X: Bingo.

M: What about the wilderness? What what would John Muir think of the national park(way) service today?

X: Isn’t he dead? Besides, wilderness is for poor people... pioneers, settlers, people with everything to lose and very little to spend in our gift shops. Poor people enjoying the wilderness does not pay the blacktop and gravel contractors!

M: Well, Mr. X, thanks for your time and insight. America appreciates it.

X: Stay at home next summer!

Transition Days...

he says:

Transition days are the days when you emerge from the wilderness and re-enter the civilized world (or vice-versa). For any number of reasons, these days can be difficult: your own expectations may be unrealistic, or the mental gear-shift can be tough. Coming out of the woods, we have to plan our route of travel, get chores done (clean up, repack our gear in the car, do laundry, get supplies), and find a free place to camp that night on the way to our next target.

So, we spill out of the Trinity Alps, and find a picnic table at the trailhead where we unpack our gear on a big tarp. We sort and pack away our backpacking gear while we cook a breakfast of potatoes and salmon (from a can). Then we fill a bucket with water and give Mo a bath. He is filthy, covered with dust and a little stinky after days and days of swimming in mountain lakes.

Next we find a campground, about 4 miles from the trailhead, with $2.50 showers (unlimited time). We each shower and shave and shampoo until we see clean skin emerge from the dusty armor of a week in the woods. However, we are cleaner than usual, surely because of all of the swimming we did in Deer Lake.

So, three clean bodies pile into the car stinking of shampoo and soap, and head for the nearest berg... Weaverville, CA. An artsy little mountain town that makes a living off of the tourist trade. We hit the laundro-mat with a big bag of stinky clothes. While the machine works, we hit the grocery store and re-supply the pantry. Next, a quick $1 do-it-yourself car wash to take a layer of filth off of the car. Back to the laundry, to start the dryer. Then to the thrift store, where I pick up 5 used paperbacks for $8.

Then to Mamma Lamas, the internet coffee house in town. We email, pay bills, and check on the general health of the world. We plan our route, and hit the road.

We roll into Redding, CA in time for dinner, and we locate a chinese buffet that will allow us to do unlimited damage for $11. Perfect. We’re still in pain.

A quick stop at the pet food store, and we hit the road, east toward Lassen Volcanic N. P. Three miles short of the park, we enter the national forest. An immediate left turn onto a dirt road, and another left onto an old logging road, 20 yards later we are in a grassy stand of firs and cedars.

It’s twilight. Mo is sleeping, curled in a ball in the grass. Elizabeth and I sit in our lawn chairs, reading our books by headlamp... nearing bedtime. This has been a nearly perfect transition day!

Every Meal a Feast!!

Mo says:
I’ve been eating the exact same food since I was one. I was still a puppy, and I was having all sorts of stomach trouble, and I was even losing hair on my face! So, Poppa found a really great food for me, and my allergies went away. I liked the way it tasted.

When I moved to New Jersey a few years ago, I was really stressed out. I just didn’t feel like eating any more. So, Poppa started feeding really meaty food from a can. I liked the way it tasted.

When we went to Alaska, I got to eat all sorts of great food. Fish, potatoes, meat... you name it. But when we came back, my stomach started acting funny again. So, poppa found me a new food, ‘specially made for “seasoned” dogs, like me. It has extra vitamins, stuff to keep my teeth healthy, oil for my coat, extra fiber so I can take healthy grumpies, and it even has glucosamine, which pop says will keep me from getting twinges in my hinges. I love the way it tastes!!

This is the best food yet!

Falling for the West

she says:

I grew up on Long Island, went to college in the capital region of New York and after finishing up my degree I fled to New York City to enjoy urban life for a few years. I am an east coast girl. I love the North Fork of Long Island especially in the summer and fall, dinning at the Lobster Roll, canoeing down the Peconic River, picking up a fresh baked pie at Briermier Farm as I make my way through rolling vineyards and farmlands to my cousins boat for a weekend of liquid indulgences. I love corn field mazes, pumpkin picking and making the annual visit to apple orchards up north and dreaming of all the apple treats I will concoct later that week. I take pride in being from Long Island, (more so, being from Long Island and not being the tanned, Gucci wearing, Prada toting girl that Long Island is famous for.)

I love NYC, running down the west side highway, riding my bike through central park, walking from my apartment on the UES to the Union Square farmers market for some fresh produce and decadent cheese. I LOVE Sunday brunch, chatting with friends at a new wine bar or coffee shop and of course grabbing a bite to eat at any of the copious, quaint eateries that shape the palate of all New York Foodies.

Though I am a New Yorker I love the Red Sox, New England clam chowder and have always been charmed by the cobble stone streets of Boston, the crisp sea salt air of Perkins’ Cove in Maine. I embrace New England and largely the Northeast I’ve always imagined my life there.

However after traveling 3,000 miles to the West coast I find myself needing to make some room in my heart for what I’ve found here:

1. The most striking is (not surprisingly) the weather, after spending 23 years in the humid, barely sufferable summers in New York the dry heat of the west is absolutely superb. If you are hot in the sun, well you move to the shade and there is actually a difference and one can cool down. You don’t sweat just from being outside in August, in fact its hard to sweat even when exerting one self. 
   
   
2. Fruit of the Earth, like the salmon berries of Alaska I am tickled by being able to harvest blackberries all over the west coast. The simple act of picking fruit for free from nature’s bounty make me feel closure to past generations who I’m sure made the most of the free fruit and moreover probably looked forward to the berry season. More than that the berries are DELICIOUS, not only the best blackberries I’ve ever tasted, but the best berries period. 
   
   
   
3. The Produce is mouth-wateringly good; because the west coast has a large amount of agriculture much of the produce in the grocery is fresher, tastes better and is substantially cheaper than the east coast. 
   
4. The store brand versions of any drug store or grocery item is ascetically pleasing. (I know that sounds silly, but it makes a difference I swear, especially since Jeffrey and I are being so cheap and eating a bunch of canned items, it doesn’t feel like as much of a sacrifice when the can is just as pretty as the high priced can ... and often prettier) 
   
   
5. Free camping, Jeff touched on this, but the idea of being able to Car camp in the wilderness for free isn’t only fantastic, but it makes a lot of sense (and seriously make we question the camping situation on the East coast)
   
   
6. No tolls. After growing up on Long Island where no matter what route you take to get off the island you are paying a toll, to living in NYC and commuting to White Plains were tolls were just another expense I needed to factor in each month... traveling out west on well maintained roads sans extraneous fees has again seriously made me question why east coasters have let such ridiculous practices like tolls take root. 
   
   
7. I’ve always considered myself to be athletic, outdoorsy (and dare I admit it, tough.) However between dating Jeffrey and tromping around in the woods out west I find myself continually challenged by the rugged environment (as well as Jeff abilities.) And I find myself constantly question if I am really tough or not, I’m slowly coming to the conclusion that maybe I'm not as tough as I thought.. or maybe I’m east coast tough.  In either case I have to recalibrate and conquer the untamed west! 
   
8. The access to nature just seems easier. I know we are on an outdoors trip so this maybe biased, but it just seems like the culture is much more outdoorsy here and access your outdoor desire doesn’t require driving hours away from your home on toll roads just to ride your bike with out being blasted by the horns of impatient drivers who are unwilling to share the road.
   

So I’m feeling a bit conflicted, do I stay loyal to my roots and my love of the east coast or do I jump ship and feel out this new love and see what adventures it brings. I hope I can continue to do both for awhile.

The Trinity Alps Wilderness

he says:

It’s funny how emotions can shade an experience. Rolling east out of Eureka, headed toward the Trinity Alps, the road was miserably windy, faithfully following the Trinity River to the Pacific. None of the ranger stations were open, so we were not able to get a detailed hiking map of the area. Add to that a series of forest fire closures in the area which were making it seem as though we would have to by-pass the entire region. The end of the day, still no map, and despite being in a national forest we had a difficult time finding a side road to find a suitable camp. Then Mo wakes up in the middle of the night with serious stomach issues (you do the math)... so far, not a good start.

The next day, we drive into the half empty Trinity Lake (a years long drought is starting to have an effect) and make breakfast along the tributary stream that is now crawling along the lake bed. With resolve brought by the new day, we make a plan. We’ll drive up the nearest road, park at the trailhead there, and hike using the topo map in the Gazetteer. I pull the staples from the spine, and remove the appropriate page. The scale is 1:150,000. A mile is the width of my pinky nail. Not a lot of detail, but it will suffice. The major trails are shown, and we’ll bring a gps for back-up.

By noon we are walking. Elizabeth has packed enough food for 3 days +2. That means we are planning on a three day trip, with two days of emergency food. She is great at planning trail meals, so I seldom interfere.

That night we camp along a creek in a deep valley. A small flat gives us a great camp, and we can swim in the deep pools. We hang the food in a tree, because we have entered bear country. At dusk, as we sit and talk by the creek, I sense motion out of the corner of my eye. Across the creek valley, about 100 feet away, a black bear is making his way down the valley. We shout and bang pots, Mo looks at us like we’re nuts. About 30 minutes later we hear, but can no longer see, something moving across the creek. We repeat the noisy drill, and hear nothing more. Perhaps it was enough, perhaps we were just hearing things. We sleep soundly.


The next day, we start climbing in earnest. Our planned destination is a mountain lake about 12 miles away and at approximately 7,150 feet above sea level. We start the day at about 2,400 feet. We are getting used to the map scale, and we mark each trail junction with the gps. In a worst case scenario, we can backtrack using just the gps. By early afternoon, we have entered a granite cirque, with no where to go but up. We climb dusty switchbacks in the hot sun, until a deep green lake in a bowl of rock appears before us. We’re home.

We set up camp, swim, and lounge in the sun. We decide immediately that we will be staying in the wilderness for longer than three days. We figure that if we ration carefully, we can stay for six days... but it means living on less than 1000 calories a day. Well worth it.

Sunset lights the granite walls on fire. Bright red light in a darkening sky. Beautiful.

Sunrise slowly creeps down the opposite wall, and makes it’s way across the lake to camp by 9:30. The alpine meadows come alive with he buzzing of insects, the snapping of grasshoppers, and hummingbirds whipping from flower to bush.

We rest. The climb the day before was tiring. We do laundry, swim, read, and just sit still. A great day in the mountains. We also notice the altitude. We get winded easily, light headed when we stand up too quickly. The rest day will give us a chance to acclimatize.

We climb. Siligo Peak is a grayish granite spire that rises another thousand feet above the lake. We climb with ease through the thin mountain air, and explore the summit ridges, the other alpine lakes, and the passes between peaks that exit to the south and west. We save the peak for last, and climb the last 500 feet or so quickly. Huge views. The white granite peaks of the range to the west shine brightly. Mt. Shasta to the north. And the smoke plume from the fires to the southwest.

An explosion of mayflies has drifted in on a thermal, and we watch them swarm in the light of a setting sun. Thousands have had the misfortune of landing on the lake, and the trout are having a field day. The lake is alive with feeding fish.

Eventually we must say goodbye to this place. We pack our loads, significantly lighter now, and head down the valley. We know where we are headed, and camp along Stuart Fork Creek beneath a water-slide with several deep pools. We swim in the sun, and dry off quickly in the near zero-humidity. Our last night in the Trinity Alps, the sound of the rushing creek puts us to sleep.

Running with the Giants

she says:

When I was in elementary school (which is much more recent then when Jeff was in elementary school) I remember having conversations about things that were of this earth but were beyond my limited experience.  Like the dangers of quick sand, the power of Niagara Falls or the massiveness of the Himalayan Mountains.  The Redwoods were one of those things, "There are trees in California that are soo big you can drive a car through them!"  "No way,"  I thought and simultaneously, "I can't wait to see them."  

And so after waiting far too long, on a day off at Smith Rock, with an hour run under our belt and nothing on the agenda except figuring out what was next, Jeff and I pretty quickly decided that is was time to head south: Crater Lake, the Redwoods, Lake Tahoe, Yosemite (just to name a few.) 

 

So with Moby in the back seat, Johnny Cash on the iPod and a flavored cigar in hand we hit the open road.  We take in the foggy Oregon coast, have handpicked blackberry pancakes for breakie, and ultimately arrive at the Redwoods! 

Those large trees do make an impression (I'm still impressed by their size and it's been a week). We decided to take in some of the prominent Sequoia and Redwood groves by going for a morning run.  As we started running my thoughts wandered to how old these trees must be, the lush rainforest floor at the base of their trunks, and the feeling that now-extinct animals have passed by them.  Their immensity does remind you of prehistoric times and you almost think that a velociraptor is about to come barreling towards you from hind the closest overturned Giant.

So I had to wait 15 years to see these giants, but the wait was worth it.  One more thing to check off the bucket list.

Living in Your Car - Homeless and Happy!!

she says:

I am really proud of the way that Jeff and I are living. We are living simply, with but we are taken in much of this great country and living in Jeff’s rig has allowed us to venture where ever our heart’s desire. Many have asked how we can afford to do this:

“Don’t you have student loans still?”
“Did you win the lottery?”
“Well live it up now because you will be paying for such misappropriated time later in life.”

To which I respond,
“Most certainly.”
“I wish” and
“I really don’t think that will be the case.”

Anyway, every once in a while my heart starts to race a bit after one of those comments and I think, “Oh no, we have it all wrong, we’re not making any money, we’re screwing up our retirement, we’re never going to be able to have a normal life.” Fortunately within about 5 minutes my head becomes screwed on straight and I realize that we are living smartly and simply, rationing our money, food and gas. And more than anything else, Jeffrey and I have each other (and Moby) and we are genuinely happy and enjoying life completely.

I am saying all this to let you know that living the way we are is not out of reach for anyone. You merely have dig deep and find the courage to step outside of the boundaries of typical Americana... job, house, two cars, picket fence... you know the drill. If you can, stop letting your debts hold you to a job if you don’t find happiness in it. Yes, some are more tied down than others (namely the three things I can think of: kids, an abundance of animals, and “owning” a home) for you this life would require some serious rearranging... however, it could still happen.

Anyway if through the course of reading these blogs we have tickled a nerve with you and you find yourself wishing you could break free and do something similar, YOU CAN! The hardest part is deciding to do so. After that... it's easy.

So here is a little photo journal of how we are doing it.

Last fall, we built a cabinet conversion for the back of the rig. Two large capacity slide drawers and a sleeping deck that slides over the top of the folded down back seats. There is additional forward storage beneath the sleeping deck.



The drawers are our pantry and supply closet. The supply closet holds the stove, fuel, dishes, utensils, cleaning supplies, laundry soap, water filter, first aid kits, sewing kits, stove repair kit, guide books and maps, general storage, etc. The pantry holds all of our food, spices, drinks, snacks, etc. Pretty straight forward.


The side passenger doors have small packs attached to hold personal items and clothes. We each have a side, under the sleeping deck, for our personal supplies... and Jeff shares his space with Moby.

We installed an 800 watt inverter for small electrical loads. Generally, we only use it to charge the laptop while we're on the road... but I suppose we could install a microwave and Kitchen Aid mixer....

And that is that. It ain't much, but it is home for now. It is a very simple, uncomplicated life. And it is ours.

Trust Fund???

he says:

How are we doing this? How can we afford it?

We don’t spend any money we don’t absolutely have to. In the last month we’ve paid for camping one time. Fourteen bucks. We took much needed showers to make it seem like it was worth it... But in reality, so called “primitive” camping is fantastic!! If you’re from the east coast, you probably are not aware, but the federal gov’t owns a vast quantity of land in the west. The U.S. Forest Service and the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) are the biggies, and you can camp anywhere on federal land as long as you are more than 1/4 mile from an existing campground (pay site). Every now and then you’ll find a designated primitive camp site with pit toilets (National Recreation Areas and BLM), but if not, it isn’t all that difficult to dig a hole.


So, our rent for the month of August...$14. Not bad. We don’t eat out. OK... we went to the Izzy’s pizza buffet once, after a long and fantastic week of rock climbing at Smith Rock, but it’s not the norm. We eat three meals a day, cooking on the MSR stove when a hot meal is in order. Coffee, tea, oats, rice, noodles, soups, burritos, sandwiches, etc. We don’t keep ice in the cooler, so we don’t make/keep leftovers. We cook exactly what we want to eat. As you might imagine, our food bill is quite low...probably in the neighborhood of $3 to $4 a day, including Moby.

Gas for the month of August...3 tanks, $240. Too much, I know, but we’re getting better. Unfortunately, we have a list of parks and places we really want to see, so we’ll have to spend the money on gas. While it is another blog entry, I think gas is super-cheap right now (.25 per cup), and the opportunity to see these far flung places may soon be financially out of reach for most Americans... (more on that topic later).

I am happy to report that we got over 22 mpg on the last tank!! YEAH!!!

The only other one-time, big ticket items include: State Gazetteers (detailed topographic maps of OR, WA, CA - $40), State Park, National Park, and NW Forest Pass - $110 total, and a new 60m 10.3mm climbing rope - $80 after using my REI dividend!! All one-time purchases... and we can use the maps on the trails too!

So, that is the financial picture. It does not take a big pile of cash to live small. You do have to get comfortable with uncertainty though... you must be flexible, if you will. And you really should love being outdoors! That last one really matters!!