Brake Lights

Original Post: October 11, 2015

We got up at 5:30 am to try our hand at spotting wildlife.  We’d been told by Kirk that wolves and bears are frequently spotted in the Lamar Valley, and Nate had wanted to fish Pebble Creek, so off we went.  Unlike Yosemite, Yellowstone is wonderfully laid out, with roads forming a rather large figure eight and several smaller offshoots here and there.  A figure eight meant that even though there was lots of driving, you weren’t stuck on one long (and positively snore-worthy) road for the entire trip and that you could get where you wanted to go by planning out the best route.  (Get that?  The best route. Not the only route.)

We didn’t make it very far before “Eagle-eye” Nate spotted a bull moose far off in a meadow. We pulled over and took out “the big lenses” to try to capture a good photo of him, but he really was just too far off and constantly on the move.  As we watched him, fascinated by the elegance with which he moved, we were almost equally fascinated at the cars that slowed to a crawl as they passed us.

We quickly discovered in Yellowstone that very few people actually spend time spotting the wildlife on their own.  Most drive around looking for brake lights and people who are already pulled over with a camera lens hanging out the window.

So when you go to take a shot like this:

Everyone is quite clueless as to what it is you must be looking at, which is kind of funny, so every now and again, Nate and I would pull over and start pointing just to see who would follow…

Not far down the road, we found ourselves surrounded by bison on all sides.  And all I could hear was this:

Just start listening at 0:55.  That’s the beginning of what played through my head nonstop for two days straight.  I can’t lie.  I was soaking it in.

Despite the frequent “buffalo jams” (as we’d begun to call them), we remained entranced.  I never tired of watching.  Brake lights frequently confirmed that there was an animal up ahead (buffalo or otherwise, but usually buffalo).

License and registration, please.

We made it all the way to Pebble Creek without a single sign of wolf or bear, despite having seen numerous antelope, elk, and bison along the way.  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly disappointed.  (How silly is that???  Surrounded by more wildlife than I thought I’d see in a million years and I’m disappointed because I didn’t get to see wolves or bears.)

Nate spent a few hours fishing while I put my seat back in the car, read a book, then closed my eyes and snoozed.  You see, the night before had been a bit of a rough one as we had camped next to a most obnoxious family.  As a mother of two, I really hate to call anyone’s family obnoxious. 

We had been woken up at least 4-5 times during the previous night to a young toddler’s blood-curdling screams and coughs, followed by “nonononononononononono!”  The coughing had me feeling bad for the baby since I figured he was sick and his parents were trying to medicate him.  I thought back to all of the times I had a sick young daughter at home and I struggled to get her to take the Tylenol that would make her feel well enough to get some rest. But after the third time, I wasn’t feeling so bad for the kid anymore…  I was just, well, annoyed.  (Anyone who knows me knows I like my sleep.)  Bugger off, kid.  You’re ruining my night.

And what was wrong with those parents anyway?  Who goes camping with a child this young?  We didn’t take our girls camping until they were 4 and 8 years of age.  Who takes a 1 year old camping?  More importantly – WHY?

The parents finally (Finally!) put the kid in the car for a while to calm him down (why they hadn’t thought to do this earlier, I don’t know), but everyone in the entire campground was awake.  (Though they weren’t all as lucky as us – getting to camp right “next door!”)  I will forever be traumatized.

I didn’t get much sleep in the car either, though, as I, 1. couldn’t get comfortable and, 2. had to listen to a family that pulled in for a rest get out and chat right outside my car window.  An entire parking lot and they chose to pull in directly next to the only car in it.

If there’s one thing I learned while going cross-country, it was that people never fail to amaze me.  (And that’s not necessarily a good thing.)

Naturally, I couldn’t get any photographic evidence of the larger ones…

I finally gave up, got out and followed the creek a bit to find Nate fishing.  Despite listening to a man who’d been watching him explain to his wife that “this fisherman’s got his line all in a granny knot,” I was pretty sure Nate was confident in what he was doing.

And I was right.  He was simply changing flies.  Nine cutthroat trout later, Nate and I headed back to the car and back to the campground.  At this point, I could hardly keep my eyes open while Nate, with the prospect of catching bigger fish, couldn’t have been more energized.  He dropped me off at the campground, so I could climb in the tent to get some sleep.

Clearly, we can see where my priorities lie.

Unfortunately, I noted that our neighbors’ tent was still set up and I couldn’t figure out why anyone would still be hanging around with a sick kid.  (I discovered only later that the kid didn’t appear to be sick at all…which only made things worse since now he’s just a snot-nosed brat in my book.)

As I collapsed onto the sleeping bags, a huge clap of thunder pealed through the sky, but Nate was already gone and on his way to the Gibbon River.  Crazy.  I found out only later that though the sky had opened up where I was and let loose a downpour, Nate had dealt with hail.  Yep.  Hail.  (Do notice, however, how long it takes him to actually leave the fishing site.  He’s still casting even when the hail is obviously not going to stop.)

Proof?

Despite that it rained for a solid hour, the tent remained dry and cozy.  When Nate arrived back an hour later, he quickly climbed into his sleeping bag in attempts to warm up and catch up on a little sleep of his own.  I guess hail kind of takes the fun out of fishing.  (News to me.  I thought nothing could defeat Nate’s love for fishing!)

At 5:30 pm, we finally got up and headed to the lodge for showers (Showers!  Aaaah!) and laundry!  We followed it up with dinner at the slowest restaurant we’ve ever seen – The Canyon Lodge.  Dinner was okay, mediocre at best.  Cold french fries, meh.  But at least it wasn’t another dehydrated camp meal.

Remember Mel and Tim Johnson and their boys from Crater Lake?  Well, right before we’d lost cell reception in Idaho, we’d gotten a text from them, telling us that they were staying at Bridge Bay Campground.  It was a 45 minute drive from where we were staying at Canyon Village, but what’s 45 minutes in the scheme of hundreds of hours on the road over the course of three weeks?  I mean, really?

Not knowing exactly where in the campground they were staying, we knew we were taking a chance at driving there, but we figured if nothing else, it was just another trip through Yellowstone to see the sights!  We took the gamble and began the trip, but – brake lights – we were quickly stopped in a traffic jam for two gorgeous bull elk!  People were out of their cars and some of them were way too close!  I, too, was out of the car to get a few shots, but you can bet that I didn’t get this close!

Slightly delayed, we got back in the car and were ready to get rolling again…until we encountered a mama bear and her two cubs in the meadow…easily spotted by – you guessed it – brake lights!  Okay, delay.  Like everyone else, we pulled over and got out.  Yellowstone had rangers stationed to the area to make sure that people didn’t get too close to her.  (The den was nearby and these bears are frequently seen here.)  Nate filmed for a while and I snapped some photos.  I didn’t imagine the thrill I’d feel at seeing a Grizzly in person.  They are enormous.  That should go without saying.  Really.  But, in person, it’s just a whole other ballgame.  And we were a good 100 yards away! (Which was plenty close enough for me, thank you very much.)

The cubs were positively adorable, wrestling and running in the tall meadow grasses, playing hide and seek with one another while mom rustled up some grub (literally, I think).  It was quite the sight to witness and I am glad that we had the opportunity to see it!  My photos were nothing to brag about, but Nate was able to get some fun video with his iPhone, a spotting scope, and a cheap adapter.  Worked out okay!

Slightly delayed, we got back in the car and were ready to get rolling again…until we encountered a mama bear and her two cubs in the meadow…easily spotted by – you guessed it – brake lights!  Okay, delay.  Like everyone else, we pulled over and got out.  Yellowstone had rangers stationed to the area to make sure that people didn’t get too close to her.  (The den was nearby and these bears are frequently seen here.)  Nate filmed for a while and I snapped some photos.  I didn’t imagine the thrill I’d feel at seeing a Grizzly in person.  They are enormous.  That should go without saying.  Really.  But, in person, it’s just a whole other ballgame.  And we were a good 100 yards away! (Which was plenty close enough for me, thank you very much.)

The cubs were positively adorable, wrestling and running in the tall meadow grasses, playing hide and seek with one another while mom rustled up some grub (literally, I think).  It was quite the sight to witness and I am glad that we had the opportunity to see it!  My photos were nothing to brag about, but Nate was able to get some fun video with his iPhone, a spotting scope, and a cheap adapter.  Worked out okay!

The wolves…well, they continued to elude us.  We arrived just minutes too late to catch them just a few miles down the road from the bears and disappointingly had to admit that we weren’t going to see them at all.

Finally, just as we were beginning to lose all light from the sky, we arrived at Bay Bridge Campground, about an hour later than we’d originally intended.  We had no way of knowing if the Johnson family expected us at all or if the campground would even let us know which site they were camping in.  To make matters worse, we were in a long line of folks waiting to check into their campsite…  Nate finally made it to the front of the line.  Because we couldn’t confirm the Johnson’s last name (we didn’t yet know it at that time!), they wouldn’t give us the exact site.  They did, however, give us the loop in which they were camping.  So, off we went to find them in the dark. We drove the entire loop and just as we were about to give up, we spotted their van parked at the very last campsite.  Adam and Taylor quickly spotted Nate as we pulled up and jumped out of their seats to greet us!  Despite the fact that it was now 9 pm, the Johnsons offered us a fire, a seat, and hot tea and coffee. We spent a few hours talking and enjoying their company and were glad to talk about a little of everything.  It’s an odd thing to run into friends you’ve only just met, but we were glad we had the opportunity to spend more time with them.  The boys shared their tales of zip-lining in southern Idaho and showed photos that they’d taken of some of the Yellowstone wildlife, while we gave them tips on where to find and photograph bears the next day.  The boys soon climbed into bed, leaving the “grown-ups” to talk.  (Really, who’s actually “grown-up” here?  This trip has made me feel like a kid!)

Their campground was completely opposite of ours, with no trees to block the night sky.  It was easy to see the Milky Way and we quickly spotted a satellite or two making their way across the expanse as we shared our thoughts about how important it is to keep kids fully involved and in love with the outdoors. It appears we share similar philosophies!  Given how quickly we got along, this doesn’t surprise me.

It was close to midnight by the time we left their campground, saying goodbye to our newfound friends and knowing we’ll likely never see them again.  It’s too bad they don’t live on the east coast…  Perhaps we can utilize a blog to convince them to move. 

Okay, probably not.

On the way back to Canyon Village, we were startled by glowing eyes, but not nearly as startled as the male Grizzly that had just finished crossing the road and turned to look at us.  Up close, we were definitely reminded of how large they are!  Holy cow…I mean, bear.

It was off to bed when we reached our campground at 1 am and, thankfully, the campground was quiet. Tomorrow we would be up early to head to the Grand Tetons, in an attempt to attain a campsite at the infamous Jenny Lake Campground.  But that’s a tale for another day.

More than Just Potatoes

Original Post: September 8, 2015

There came a point in our trip when we knew it would be time to turn around and head back home.  Crater Lake didn’t really count (even though we’d changed directions), as it was still an amazing destination that I’d planned as part of the itinerary.

Idaho, however, was…well…

Idaho.

Before leaving for the trip, I’d asked a few friends who lived out west whether it was better to travel northern Idaho or southern.  We needed to get to Yellowstone and I wanted to do it as quickly as possible, but what’s a few extra hours on the road if the scenery is nice, right?  So we added an extra hour and a half and took the northern route as recommended.  Why?  Because it was pretty. 

Or so I was told.

As I’m really not being very fair to Idaho, I should probably clarify.  Northern Idaho is beautiful.  (I’d been told the southern route was all desert, and we’d really seen quite enough of that.)  Eastern Oregon and Washington, however, are not.  Having seen the west coast of Oregon on a past trip, I pictured all of Oregon to be full of the amazingly green, incredibly dark piney forests that make western Oregon such a draw to nature lovers and neohippies everywhere. 

In fact, I couldn’t have been more wrong.  After the mountains faded into the distance, eastern Oregon looks the way I expected Kansas to look. (For the record, I was wrong there, too.  Kansas is not grain.  Kansas is corn.  Oregon is grain.  Lots of it.)  And eastern Washington is very much the same.

Okay, so this part was pretty amazing.  Mountains, horses, and beautiful blue skies, and miles and miles of road to travel.

But this part?

On film, stunning.  In reality, breathtaking.  

For an hour or so.  

Hours upon hours?  Not so much.

Oh, come on. You knew we had to stop.

By the time we reached our cabin in Coeur d’Alene, I was very much contemplating the wisdom of my decision to travel northern Idaho, but Coeur d’Alene itself, particularly the lake, is beautiful.  Our first stop in Idaho, naturally, was this –>

You can take the boy out of Cabela’s (in Hamburg), but you can’t take Cabela’s out of the boy…hence why we ended up in Cabela’s (in Coeur d’Alene).

A few dehydrated meals later, we were back on our way and reached the Osprey Perch Cabin at the Wolf Lodge Campground within a half hour.  Nestled against the back of a mountain, it was a positively charming little A-frame…even if it did slant uphill and made me feel as though I was a little tipsy.  Seriously, It’s odd the way a slight incline outdoors does nothing to your equilibrium, but the same slant inside is downright disturbing. Still, it didn’t detract from the charm.

We finally had a slow evening to ourselves, so we headed to Lake Coeur d’Alene for Nate to try his hand at fishing.  I sat with camera at the ready, hoping to capture a bald eagle or two in the area, but to no avail.  However, I did manage to capture a spectacular sunset!

Lake Coeur D’Alene

Back at the cabin, we ate another dehydrated meal, shared a couple of mugs of hot tea and enjoyed the stars as they begin to dot the sky.  At least until the mosquitoes showed up.  Then it was inside and time for fun on the computer.  We actually had a few hours to load photos and view them.  Throughout the trip, I would try to download photos to my laptop every few days, but now I finally had time to look at them.  (Imagine that!)

In the end, I was glad we took the northern Idaho route instead of southern, but those 9 hours in eastern Oregon and Washington was quite the test.  A test of patience, a test of willpower, or a test of sanity – I’m not sure.  But it was a test.

But I did discover that there was more to Idaho than just potatoes.

Come to think of it, I didn’t see a single potato.  Maybe I should write the Idaho bureau of tourism.

No eagles, but plenty of osprey.

To See a Giant

Original Post: August 11, 2015

Though we could have enjoyed the coast forever (And really, who couldn’t?), we packed up early and hit the road for Sequoia National Park to meet with The General.  (Sherman, that is.)  We were on our way early and fully prepared for hitting LA traffic in full-on rush hour.  Yeah. Well. It’s one thing to say that and another to do it.  We weren’t really prepared.

How can you be prepared for this?  See those red dashes?  That’s a delay.

Los Angeles traffic only added an extra hour to the trip and I guess we should have been grateful for that.  It could have been worse.

One thing we discovered along the way was that most of California looks like this:

With the exception of the times it looked like this:

Or like this:

Seriously – weird, grassy, rolling hills or orange orchards or vineyards.  That was it.  I’m certain there must be more to California than this, but in all the miles we traveled (from San Diego to the Redwoods) this was, more or less, what we saw.

We reached Sequoia National Park at three in the afternoon and headed straight for the world’s largest tree. But first, a massive downpour.  It was hard to imagine that California was in a drought when the view through our windshield was hardly visible at all.

When we finally got to into the park and had our first views of Sequoias, our jaws dropped.  There is nothing that can prepare one for the sheer mass that is a few-thousand year old Sequoia.  They are awesome in the true sense of the word. The gorgeous rust-hued trunks are not what you would expect.  I put my hand on one and expected to feel a tree trunk (duh, right?), but I was shocked to feel a soft texture, almost spongy.

We made our way down the path to General Sherman, and while he was not the most gorgeous specimen, he was regal nonetheless.  There was a line to take photos next to him.  Dutifully, I stood in line so that Nate could get a picture of me with the tree, but no camera could really capture the stunning presence that these trees have.  (So go see them in person!  You won’t be sorry!)

If Sequoias can convince Nate to hug a tree, they can convince anyone.

We made our way to Lodgepole Campground, which was, hands down, one of the best sites we booked on the trip.  The park ranger who checked us in quickly reminded us that we were in bear country and that just the night before, they’d had to shoo away a black bear from the campgrounds.  This made me somewhat nervous, as I’d booked a campsite on the outskirts of the grounds.  Oh well.  You only live once, right?  And that’s what bear boxes are for.

The campsite was perfect, and right next to the Kaweah River (which was more like a creek at that point in time) and you know exactly where Nate went.  Fishing, of course.

The native brook trout, though tiny, were feisty and Nate caught several.  Since they weren’t used to people, Nate discovered that some stealth was required to catch them.  If they saw you, they were gone…  

Of the woods, Sequoia National Park was one of my favorites.  It’s a long and windy drive to get to (But unlike the Rockies, there were guard rails and stone walls!) and it’s a hike to see General Sherman (although there is handicapped access available), but it was worth every second. 

And we managed to avoid a bear encounter.  Woohoo – that’s two for two in bear country!  Safe!