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!!

Naps...

Mo says:

I like naps. Naps in the mountains, naps in the desert, naps on the coast, naps in the forest. There are so many good places to nap. Caves, under logs, in the tall grass. I like to pretend I am a lion or a wolf, sleeping in the tall grass, waiting to stalk my next meal.  I blend in well in the desert.

Sometimes I nap in the sun. Then I get hot, and move in to the shade. Sometimes after a swim, I shiver while I’m napping. Then I dry off and warm up.  If I get lucky, Mom or Dad will cover me with a sleeping bag to help me warm up.  They always take good care of me.  I have the best pack in the world!

Becoming a Rock Climber

she says:

“I would try this route man, but it looks a little chossy. Besides after that last climb my forearms are totally pumped and my tips are shredded.”

With every new sport comes a new lingo and the case certainly holds true with rock climbing. Before Smith Rock I climbed a bit in some rock gyms and annually at the rock wall at summer camp. I always enjoyed myself however never found the right venue to pursue my interest in rock climbing further, until of course I met Jeffrey who was already a proficient climber (better yet, he had a ton of extra gear I could use.)

And so as I laced up the borrowed climbing shoes, strapped on the worn harness and tied in to the top rope that Jeff set up. I was nervous, but thrilled to be outdoors and climbing. With the first few hand holds and foot pockets what struck me was how the rock almost seemed designed for climbing. I remember being back in the rock gyms and thinking, “these plastic holds are completely unrealistic, no rock has hand holds like this.” Well I was mistaken; Smith Rock has holds like that.

Incredible, what a place! With each day I got a bit more comfortable on my feet, with each evening I tried to digest the techniques Jeffrey has taught me so I could put them into practice the next day. Like with any new skill, you have your good days and your bad days and what keeps you going is the satisfaction of successfully getting through the crux of a route, putting into practice a new technique, feeling the advantage of proper foot placement, reaching out a grabbing that killer hand hold to pull you through and the promise that with perseverance you can keep climbing more challenging and trying routes (and maybe even lead one day.)

Rock n Road trip...

He says:

What next? Showered, tanned, and rested, we head south from Hood River and into the desert. Our destination is a state park called Smith Rock. This park is a river gorge carved out of a welded tuff, or volcanic ash and debris flow that solidified into a massive, very resistant, rock formation. The cliff faces are pocked by small pebbles and cobbles, as well as potholes and finger pockets which makes for excellent rock climbing!


In fact, Smith Rock is one of the premier rock climbing areas in the country, and is often cited as the birthplace of sport climbing (bolt protected climbing, as opposed to traditional gear protected climbing). Anyway, Smith is our destination, rock climbing is our goal!

Elizabeth is new to rock climbing, and my goal is to gradually introduce new techniques and difficulties. I haven’t climbed in over three years, so a gradual approach is for me too!! I need to gently re-calibrate my fear reflexes... something that is required when your 100’ off the deck, clinging to tiny edges, and your last pro is 15’ below you...

So, we settle into a new rhythm. Camping in the desert, the sun rises above the Ochocco Mountains, and warms your face. Coffee, a good book and yoga. Drive 7 miles to the park, packs already loaded with climbing gear (which I packed and brought with us in June... it stayed in the car while we were in AK), and we hike into the gorge.

The sun is heating the walls, Red Wall and Morning Glory Wall are glowing, Zion Wall and the Dihedrals are bright too. The air is still cool, so we head for a sunny wall. We pick a climb, drop our packs, and start to gear up. Moby scratches the earth and picks a spot to nap. I lead, Elizabeth follows. We chat about the new and different techniques required for the climb. Moby moves into the sun. We climb the route again, this time paying particular attention to form. We are lost in our little world. Mo is in the sun now. We pull the rope and move to a new climb, with different features, and we repeat the drill. New challenges, more physical this time, lactic acid builds in our forearms and fatigue is setting in. Mo is in the shade.



At the end of the day, we hike up and out of the gorge, tired but not wiped out. We sit in the grass on the rim of the gorge, the sun is setting behind the tallest spires, and the wind has picked up. We talk about the day’s effort, and what we’d like to try tomorrow. Water jug is full, our faces washed. Flip flops on, lawn chairs deployed, stove heating dinner, a good book in our laps...

Decompression Wilderness Retreat

He says:

PDX... and just in time. A volcano in the aleutian islands erupted just as we left anchorage, grounding all alaska air travel. We just barely escaped indefinite airport-waiting hell, the kind you see on tv when there is a blizzard during the holidays. You seldom take the time to appreciate how much it would suck to be trapped for days in an airport, no hotel spaces left, no way to get to your destination, just hours upon hours of waiting in the manufactured strip-mall environment of the modern airport. It has almost a theme park feeling, where everything looks as though it is convenient and comfortable, the way the Disney eiffel tower looks like the eiffel tower. But it isn’t.

The chairs are designed to be comfortable for an hour, no more. The food is designed to be eaten one time in a day, not three. It all looks normal and thoughtful and modern, but it is really an amusement park facimilie of what an actual comfortable environment could be. No matter...we escaped.

We load the car, and drive west to Mt. Hood. Elizabeth sleeps while I stop and run a few errands: NW forest pass, Oregon gazzeteer (forest road maps), National Forest ranger office for info/updates, groceries, and gas. By noon we are parked at the timberline lodge, with our gear spread all over the parking lot. Sorting, organizing, and packing our backpacks for a week-long hike around Mt. Hood.

By 2:00 we are walking. Mo’s pack is filled with about 8 days of food, and I am carrying one large can of meaty goodness to spice things up for him. He’s never carried such a heavy pack, and he doesn’t seem to mind it at all. Alaska has been good to him, and he is stronger and healthier than I can ever remember.

Elizabeth and I have packed food and gear for 8 days out. Our planned route is about 50 miles, with a lot of climbing and descending. The Timberline Trail circumnavigates the mountain, crossing rushing creeks, ridges, and alpine meadows between 3,000’ and 6,000’

above sea level. The trail has become less popular in recent years, mostly because a huge section of the trail was washed out in 2006, and has yet to be repaired. But we are looking forward to bushwhacking our own solution to the problem.

First day out: Clouds and fog, cool temps. We made camp in a high alpine meadow amongst a cluster of trees. Starting easy, and we relax and sip tea and study the map and try to plan out what the days ahead will bring.
The morning breaks sunny and warm. In fact, clouds never re-appear the entire time we are on the trip. Sunny, dry and warm... just what Oregon summers are supposed to be.

“What’s a ‘good’ pace for this trail”
“There’s no such thing as a good pace, just the pace your walking”

We wonder about pace, only because we have so much food, and so much ground to cover. No other reason. We have all the time we need, and we don’t want to finish too quickly. We plan to make this trip last.Stream crossings can be challenging, and we worry about Mo and the very fast moving water. Needless worry. Mo has four legs, and crosses the fasting moving streams with ease. We are amazed to watch him pace the banks looking for the best spot to cross. He even eyes the opposite bank to evaluate how he will get out of the stream beds. Amazing.

We do our best to hop from rocks to logs to the far bank. Some of the more complicated crossings (5 braided streams, with dense bushwhacking through scrub alder between each) take as long as 45 minutes. A total distance of 200 yards in just under an hour. Pace? Fugitaboutit! Now we begin the long, steep climb up and out of the stream gorge. Hot, dusty... why didn’t I splash my face with water when we were at the creek??

We camp in old growth forest, near a small meltwater stream. Mo is happy to have his pack off, and he immediately finds a spot to nap.

The mountain is a huge, living landscape. It is so easy to forget that the earth is constantly changing under our feet. Water, wind and their accomplice, gravity, are always working to undo the works of our optimistic visions. The trail, it seems, is not exempt. The impossibly steep sided canyon that we are traversing has been hit with a series of major landslides in the last year. The trail is gone, and so is everything else, right down to bedrock!! We decide to press on, and the progress is slow and very sketchy. Loose rock, gravel, wet sand and ancient volcanic ash. 

Adrenaline flows at a steady rate, making us hyper aware of the vast wide open space to our lower left. Back on solid trail, we sigh and giggle, mostly as a post-adrenal blow-off... thankfully back to the mundane business of walking!

“How far do we want to go today?”“Let’s walk until we don’t feel like walking anymore”

“Why don’t we stop at the next beautiful campsite?”
“Sounds like perfection to me!”

I’ve never really felt free in the hills, the mountains have always held objectives for me, with timelines and goals. This trip is different. Right now, I am exactly where I want to be. I don’t need to be ‘anywhere’ by tonight, tomorrow night, or monday morning. Our schedule is dictated by how much food we have left, and our desire to walk. So simple. And the thing is, I’ve read about this kind of simple freedom, we all have. Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer, Stand By Me....yeah, all about kids, I know. But still, the lesson can get lost if you let that simple fact overshadow the real meaning of those stories. Innocence can be lost, but only when you stop looking for it is it truly gone. On this trip, we are experiencing our newly found innocence, and it is liberating.

Tonight we camp in a stand of trees near a flooded meadow, ringed by snow that shines so bright we have to keep our sunglasses on until dusk. Mo romps in the frigid meltwater, spooking two mule deer that ventured up the ridge, probably hoping to get a drink from Mo’s new swimming hole. The mountain is reddish-pink with alpenglow, the breeze is light and sounds fantastic. I love the sound of wind blowing through stands of alpine fir and spruce. Sounds and feels like music.

Up before the sun, I brew coffee and stand in the meadow with Mo. He took so long to warm up last night, shivering in the tent, that he now avoids the cold pool. 

We watch the red sunrise, an eerie cast. Later that morning, we encounter a group of day-hikers that informs us of a forest fire on the east side of the mountain. The dry heat of the day and the wind have aggravated the situation, and the east side trailheads are now closed. We press on for the rest of the day, but we each know that we need to come up with a plan B. We camp on a high ridge overlooking the desert on the east side, this will be the turn-around point of our trip.

We put together a return trip that takes us down to nearly 2,800’, and back up to a great little spot called Burnt Lake. We camp and swim and swim some more, washing off the trail dust and grime. The temps reached into the high 90’s, and we climbed over 3,000’ today... so there was a lot of grime. We feel renewed. A cool swimming hole was worth every foot of climbing. We sleep hard.

We are up early, and we pack up camp and finish off our breakfast. We have little food left, so it is fitting that we hope to make the Timberline Lodge this afternoon. We encounter an increasing stream of day-hikers. We stop and chat with any and all, and talk about the weather, the fire, politics. There are little kids, tots, on the trail...we are close.

At the lodge we drink water, slowly unpack into the car, and enjoy sitting in our folding chairs (with backs).
“What’s next?”
“I don’t really know yet. East to the desert? West to the ocean? North the the high cascades volcanoes? South to the Willamette Valley?”
“We can’t make a decision in this state...”
“How about Hood River, OR, then. It’s only 40 miles from here, I’m sure we can find a shower there, it’ll be windy there and we can watch the kite-surfers, and Mo can swim in the Columbia River. We can just relax for a few days until we make up our minds.”
“Sounds like perfection.”