We woke up this morning with company - our old friend rain had decided to come visit us in Idaho.  At least we could laugh about it together now.  Somehow it wasn't as bad knowing that we're on our way home and that we can drive in the rain.  We ate breakfast in the hotel, complete with free english muffins and juice (!!), packed up, and hit the road again.  We drove east through Idaho, passing by Coeur D'Alene Lake and a few mountain passes.  The deciduous trees here are changing colors completely, and the reds and golds accented the steeply sloping green hillsides wherever they could find a spot to grow. 

The rain stopped before too long, and we had some stretches of dry cloudy weather as we wound our way up and down and around the mountains.  We reached the Montana border after an hour or so, and we were greeted by a host of small, wet snow flurries at the pass.  The next stretch of the drive would most accurately be described as serene.  The Bitterroot Range is one of the more impressive mountain ranges that I've seen.  The mountains themselves are steep, staggered, and show deep gray faces at their peaks and along their exposed ridgelines.  The forests are thick, solid carpets of green, not particularly tall, and uniform enough in height to reveal the features of the landscape beneath.  For the first few dozen miles, the mountain slopes plunged abruptly into the river, and gradually we watched a valley bottom appear as the mountains seemed to step apart reluctantly, allowing some sediment to build up and flatten out the earth at their feet.  Tiny cabins and a few half-empty towns began appearing, and the hillsides dried up slowly as we moved farther to the east.  By the time we arrived in Missoula, the valley was broad enough for a few ranches here and there, some hay fields and even a few bends in the river.

Here we headed east on a scenic byway, because we hadn't seen enough of those yet.  We passed through the town of Lincoln, Montana, which was reported to be the closest town to the Unabomber's cabin way back when.  I didn't see anyone suspicious.

From there we headed toward Rogers Pass on the Continental Divide, and on the way we passed some large stands of aspens and cottonwoods in full golden color, and by this time we had filtered sunlight to show them off as we passed by.  We caught some more flurries as we approached the pass, and then we officially entered Big Sky country.  The high plains of Montana have a particular breadth of view and shade of bright sky blue that I've not seen anywhere else, and the contrast with the white fluffy clouds and the crisp golden brown of the shortgrass prairie creates an unforgettable impression of the immensity of the sky. 

We reached the interstate again just north of Great Falls, and we headed north to that particular small town just a little while short of the Canadian border where the O'Brien family lives.  We arrived just a bit after 3 and spent the afternoon and evening catching up with Linda, Mike, Paul, and Dan.  Their hospitality was just as warm and welcoming as I'd remembered, and it was great to be back to see them again.  We talked after a delicious dinner until the weight of our eyelids became too great to ignore, and then it was time for bed.

This morning we woke up to rain.  Again.  The sky was solid slate-gray as far as we could see, and it was raining steadily.  Dad turned on the TV and checked the weather channel - the forecast was for more of the same, three days straight, with one partly cloudy day, and then more rain as far as the meteorologists' eyes could see.  Our plans to go hiking on the beaches in the Olympic National Park were looking soggy - and then the local forecaster mentioned the high winds along the coast.  Our plans to go hiking in the Olympic National Forest were looking less and less enjoyable, as the temperatures were peaking in the low 50s.  Cold and wet - not exactly the best way to have fun hiking.

Normally these would be days for other things, like taxes, laundry, housecleaning, baking, or impromptu visits to the dentist (it's dry there, right?).  We, however, are on a road trip with plans to see the outdoors, walk around the urban landscapes of Seattle, Victoria, and Vancouver, and pay what would equate to outrageous rent for a very small and poorly appointed apartment (no kitchen? no laundry? no old photo albums?). 

There was much hemming.  This was only exceeded in quantity by the ever-present hawing.  Minds were changed more times with more frequency than the diapers of a newborn with baby flu. 

In then end, though, we decided that this was the end.

So, with little fanfare and a moderate amount of hand-wringing (Dad's catholic, after all, and you know what they say about old habits) we packed up and turned to the east, heading for drier parts of the country.  With a little stop to fix a tire leak (we picked up a hitchhiking screw somewhere) we headed east, interstating it all the way. 

The clouds were low over the Cascades, drowning the road with rain and filling the hillside valleys with shadows of mist, hiding bits and pieces of the moss-speckled pine forests.  We swam our way to the eastern foothills and the high, dry plains of eastern Washington, slowly outpacing the massive gray clouds behind us.  Our tires hummed along their first stretch of dry pavement in two days, and we passed over one of the many lakes that used to be part of the Columbia River.  The sun set somewhere in the southwestern sky, but we only caught faint traces of its evening light show in the gently rolling clouds to the east. 

Dinner found us at an Italian joint in Spokane, hungry and tired from a long day of driving, with an overeager waiter and a pair of dazed stares.  We decided to head for Idaho for the night, just a little way farther up the road.  There was something oddly fulfilling about crossing the state line that day, and it wasn't raining when we went to bed.

--

Though it's been one of my dad's favorite pieces of music, and though he's played it for me more times than I can remember, I don't know that I ever really heard Rachmaninov's Rhapsody on a theme of Paganini until today, watching the bluffs rise and fall as we rounded corners on the highway, seeing the storm clouds slowly recede in the distance behind us as we slowly drifted home through the high dusty desert. 

Genius.

The alarm went off at 6:20 this morning, but there was a tour bus idling for half an hour starting at 5 am that had kept us all from sleeping in anyhow.  We piled in the car with Jennifer's luggage and headed to the airport to drop her off.  Traffic wasn't so bad heading out through town, but it was pretty packed heading the other way - into the city.  We made it with plenty of time to spare, and Dad and I debated about going back to sleep more at the hotel.  In the end we decided to get breakfast, pack up, and head up to Washington to continue our journey. 

We headed north and then east, out to Mt Rainier National Park.  The clouds were patchy for most of the drive until we got to the southeast  side of the mountain, where they thickened up and sprinkled us with rain.  We stopped for a short hike in the forest before summiting the pass, and the groundcover and low-growing maples were bursting with reds, yellows, and golds.  After we crested the hill and started descending, the clouds lifted a bit, allowing us a few glimpses of the lower parts of the high peaks to our west, freshly dusted with snow.  It was a beautiful landscape with forested hillsides stretching out for miles in every direction, some capped by snowy rocky peaks. 



We next passed through Tacoma and a few suburbs as we headed for the Olympic peninsula.  Tonight we ended up in a city on the coast, where we had a delicious dinner at one of the local restaurants, and we're hoping to explore the peninsula a bit before hopping a ferry to Victoria, BC.  We'll see what the weather has in store for us.

--

Funny road sign of the day:

Foresters plant
Forests anew
So future generations
Can have forests too.

State Trust Lands
Managed With Care

(funny because these signs were posted in series next to a clearcut in the middle of vast swaths of clearcut patches and monocrop replant sites of clearcuts gone by, with no intact forest in sight)

The rain came often and with gusto today.  We headed out to the northwest this morning along the Columbia River as it meanders out to the ocean, and the sky was a low ceiling of ponderous gray clouds.  We had planned to take a trip to the coast on one of the less sunny days, since it would involve plenty of time in the car and less time walking around, and we certainly got what we expected.

We stopped at a grocery store for breakfast - bowls of cereal and fruit all around.  We passed through the industrial port areas northwest of Portland, through a couple of small fishing towns, and rounded the cape near Astoria.  The winds picked up ferociously when we got to the coast proper.  The first spot that we visited - Ecola State Park - had trees bending in the wind, and we could lean forward into it without falling over.  The rain and some spray from the waves below pelted our faces as Jennifer and I walked out along the path toward the cliff overlook. 



We headed back to the car after taking a couple of fun pictures, and then we drove down the road a bit.  We stopped by to see the beach at Hug Point,



Cannon Beach, Manzanita, and I got out to hike to the beach at Oswald West.   The fog rolled in, and the rain got a little heavy, so we decided to turn back inland. 

The rest of the day was driving back to Portland, where we sat and read for a bit before heading to the pub around the corner for dinner.  Then we strolled through the park for a few blocks, where the trees were just starting to turn under the yellow glow of the streetlamps, the wind knocking loose leaves that fell like snow.  The rest of the evening we spent relaxing and talking before turning in early - we had a date with the airport at an unreasonable hour to send Jen back to Michigan.  We all greatly enjoyed our time together out here.

--

Funny road sign of the day:

Kids For Sale!

(seen on a farm that was hopefully raising goats)

This entry is by Jennifer:

The Saturday Market was FUN!  The Chinese Garden was pretty.  And baby did not like the endless walk.  You can erase all that.  Oh Jeez, he's typing what I say.  I'm gonna leave...

This entry is by Steve, who was typing what she was saying:

This morning we got up and headed out to find breakfast as if on a mission.  We stayed at one end of a financial district, so many of the cafes were closed on Saturday morning.  We found one after wandering about 10 blocks and promptly sat for some food.  We finished up around 10-ish and headed over to the Saturday Market - an art and craft open air market under one of the bridges downtown by the river.  We wandered around for an hour or so, enjoying the art, music, and interesting people. 



Next up was the Chinese Garden, which was just a short walk away and pleasantly green and blooming with water lilies.  We walked through it, admiring the stone walkways and the diversity of plantlife, and then we sat on a bench next to the pond and watched the orange and speckled fish swimming beneath the still surface of the water.  We settled on having lunch back at the market because there were so many vendors to choose from, and we sat near the bandstand as one of the local blues groups played the last few songs of their set. 

After lunch we set out on a long walk to the other side of town to check out a particular coffee shop that, unbeknownst to us, wasn't open during the day.  Then it was time for a bus ride back to our part of the city to sit and enjoy hot chocolate and a good book.  We walked to dinner at an Italian restaurant near the theaters on Broadway, where everyone was gussied up to see opening night at the symphony, catch a play, or some other such thing.  We headed back to the hotel to call it a day. 

The most surprising part: it didn't rain on us at all!

An Epic Journey-

This morning started out in a staggered way.  Jennifer, still on east coast time, snuck down to the lobby to read around 6:30 or some other ridiculous hour while the two of us slept a while longer.  We finally headed out for breakfast around 8:30-ish, and we drove from there through the rain to a cute little spot called Sauvie Island.

We arrived as the clouds cleared up a bit, dropping some sunshine on this little agricultural enclave near the city.  The island is mixed between wildlife habitat and small farms, most of which have a stand selling their produce, and many of which give people the option to pick their own fruits or vegetables.  This time of year there's usually a corn maze here and there, fun for the whole family.  We stopped at a farm and picked a few apples, then stopped by the stand for a couple other things, and headed back to the road. 

Due to the rainy weather forecast, we'd been planning on driving to the coast.  Since it cleared up a bit and was looking to do more of that, we decided to head back across town and head up the Columbia River Gorge instead.  We took the old Historic Highway along the ridges above the river, the volcanic rock awash in green trees, bushes, and mosses.  We stopped at every turnoff along the way - some were scenic views of the river, and some were short hikes to some of the waterfalls that flow into it.  All were beautiful and worth the time to appreciate them.  We got rained on at Bridal Veil Falls, so we stopped to make lunch in the car before heading on.  At Multnomah Falls, Jen and I hiked up to the top while Dad sat in a rocking chair in the lodge at the bottom - reading and nodding off to sleep. :)



When we got to the end of the highway, we decided on a whim to drive out to see Mt Hood since it was still mid-afternoon.  The drive from Hood River to the mountain took us through a beautiful valley of orchards and vineyards, with views to the east of the patchwork of clearcuts on the tree farms covering the hillsides.  We crested a hill and caught our first view of Mt Hood, shrouded above treeline in a dense dark cloud.  We caught a glimpse of some snow covering the base of the exposed peak, but the top eluded us the rest of the way. 



The road wound around the east and south of the mountain, and we found ourselves passing from speckled orange maple-pine forests to solid evergreens, staggered in height from two-story spruces to towering pines.  Then we found the snow, falling lightly at first, soon turning wetly heavy and coating the forest, the road, and the cars.  We crested the pass soon enough, and the snow let up and gave way to filtered sunlight as we descended.  Soon enough we could see a panorama of hillsides covered in deep green forests, whose trees were gently frosted with an early snowfall that had now moved off to let the sun set it aglow in early evening light.

We followed the valley down as it dropped below the snowline and led us back to Portland for a pizza dinner and a relaxing evening. 

--

Funny road sign of the day:

Fire Danger: High

(funny because it, along with the whole forest, was covered in an inch of standing snow)

We got up slowly this morning, knowing that we didn't have to be to the airport until 11.  We awoke to the sounds of traffic on the street at a decent hour and took our time about getting showered and out of the hotel.  We stopped for breakfast at a place highly recommended by a trusted source, and arrived at the airport spot on time.

Jennifer, my sister, flew out to spend the long weekend in Portland with Dad and me.  She's about four months pregnant, so we have all been looking forward to this vacation together, since she's soon to be quite busy for the next 20 years or so.



We dropped the luggage off at the hotel and headed out on a walk through the city.  We hiked uphill to the Rose Garden, which was absolutely gorgeous.  Hundreds of rose bushes of all different colors and varieties were in bloom on the terraced hillside to the west of downtown, and we stopped to smell a great portion of them. 



After that, we strolled uphill just a bit more to the Japanese garden, which was an incredibly manicured landscape of beautiful plants, water features, and stones. 

We got hungry with all of this walking, so we headed back down into town and stopped for burgers and such at one of the McMenamins establishments before heading over to Powell's Books to round out our urban escapade for the day.  We gave ourselves an hour and a half to get lost in the endless stacks of books, and we took a long leisurely stroll back across town to the hotel, where we relaxed for the rest of the evening with good conversation and an early night. 

--

Funny road sign of the day:

Skate Route (with arrows and images of skateboards and rollerblades)

(seen in downtown Portland)

The continental breakfast at the hotel this morning was simple, even by my standards.  There was a plastic box in the kitchen behind the hotel office that read,

"One Donut Per Person
Please and Thank You"

and that was it.  We stopped by a bakery and a coffee shop up the road a bit to supplement the Donut.  Then we took the Three Capes Scenic Drive on our way north to Tillamook, stopping occasionally to enjoy a view or to wander down to a lighthouse.  It was gorgeous, and the rocks and cliffs along this stretch of the coast are incredible. 



At Tillamook we turned east to head into Portland.  Our goal for today was to find a hotel that would work well for a good place to stay while Jennifer is in town visiting.  After driving through town and consulting Dad's "girlfriend" (as we've nicknamed his GPS unit with the female computer voice), we found a good place close to downtown to call home for a few days.  After we unpacked the car, no small feat in itself, and completely filled the closet in the hotel room to a height of 6 feet with our camping gear, we headed out for lunch.

At the Indonesian place up the street from the hotel, we picked up a local paper and perused it for things to do.  After lunch, we walked across the river to the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry for the Bodyworlds exhibit (you know, the one with all of the plastinated human bodies in various stages of dissection).  It was a warm, sunny walk and an incredible exhibit - artistic and educational simultaneously, with plenty of interesting things to ponder about our bodies.

The newspaper had mentioned something about a Harvest Festival at the People's Food Co-op on the east side of town, so Dad and I hiked about 25 blocks to find it.  We arrived before the corn barbecue, during the farmer's market, and just in time to catch the square dancing in the street.  It was a great little neighborhood street festival, full of fresh local food and foot-stompin' good times.

We stopped by a little Italian place for some light dinner on our way back, then caught the bus back across the bridge as the full moon was coming up above the trees to the east.  It was a comfortable walk to the hotel, and a pleasant end to a beautiful day.

Funny road sign(s) of the day:

Slow
Deer

and then:

And Fast
Ones Too!

(seen in Oceanside, OR)

This morning we feasted on the continental breakfast at the hotel, along with some delicious banana pancakes.  There were fresh pastries, fresh fruit, granola and cereals, juices, teas, and coffee.  We packed up, headed down to the car, and found our way back to the highway.  This morning we were headed south for a bit, back down across the bay to the Oregon Coast Aquarium.

We arrived around 10 am, a bit before feeding time for the sea otters.  We wandered around a bit to look at a few of the native plants that were labeled along the walkways and stop to see some of the other animals.  At 10:30, the cutest little bundle of fur ever to be rescued from an oil spill swam out into the big tank in front of us and caught chunks of shellfish meat tossed out by the attendant.  Then, one of his friends swam out to join him for brunch.

Half an hour later, after we'd stopped in to check on the octopus (who was hiding during the daylight hours, tucked up in a ball) and the sea birds (who dive and fly underwater, and yes, it really is like flying) it was time for the seals and sea lions to be fed.  Dad and I both loved just watching them swim from the plastic walls below the water line.  They're so graceful and playful, and they soar effortlessly in the water.

Next we went to see the underwater exhibits where we walked through clear tubes through a reef, a sandy shore ecosystem, and a deep ocean tank, watching the fish, plants, and other animals above, beside, and below us.  It was accented by the photography of a local artist, and the experience was fantastic.  It's not every day that one gets the chance to look sharks in the eye or to watch kelp and anenomes swaying in the waves.

After that we headed for the exhibits of coastal areas - the tide pools, sand shores, and piers.  The jellyfish glowed iridescent in the deep blue water, and I got to pet the starfish, abalones, and some other things I don't know how to spell.  It was a wonderful and highly educational place, and I'd highly recommend it to anyone who makes it out this way.

--

After our brains were completely exhausted, we headed across the street to the local brewpub for some sandwiches and a nice view over the harbor - it was built in a converted marine repair shop.  After lunch, it was time for some coffee and laundry, and then we headed on up the highway to Lincoln City, where we had some delicious Mexican food and crashed for the night.It was a pretty mellow day, and we both were happy to spend it that way.

Funny road sign of the day:

D River
Wold's Shortest

(seen on the bridge outside our hotel, on the D River, which is only 120 feet long)

This morning we woke up in Coos Bay, Oregon, in a sleepy roadside motel on 101. Neither of us had slept too well – Dad blamed random noises from the road and the neighbors, and for me it was one of those nights when my mind wouldn't stop thinking about whatever came its way.

We had some cereal for breakfast and decided to spend some time cleaning out and reorganizing the car. Neither of us is much of a neat freak, and a week and a couple of thousand miles in the car had taken a toll on the cleanliness of the vehicle. We pulled everything out of the back and put it into two piles: camping stuff (which we're not likely to use anymore) and other luggage (which we will). Then we re-packed everything and straightened our half-dozen food bags in the back seat.

Off we went, heading north along the coast with no place in particular in mind. We stopped at a lighthouse that also happened to be a great place to watch gray whales migrate (no, not this time of year), and then headed on up to a state park in the Oregon dunes. We climbed up one dune, and then upon realizing how far we'd have to walk through sand to reach the shore, decided to relax in the dune grass and read for a while. There were some people sandboarding nearby (like snowboarding but warmer and less forgiving when you fall), and a cool breeze off of the ocean.

On up the road we stopped to check out another beach by another lighthouse that was dotted with black stones polished smooth by the waves. Seagulls waded and bathed in the small river outlet at the south end where the fresh water trickled into the ocean, splashing and squawking to one another. Dad and I walked north along the shore to some rocky areas that led to a couple of tall rocky islands that made up the local nesting grounds for some migratory seabirds. We stood on the shore and looked out at the black rock speckled with white droppings and the chatting birds that painted them, watching as the waves crashed against the rocks and sprayed up into the air.

We looked back to the south from here, and the scene was picturesque – the grayish sandy beach at low tide laid flat below the suddenly tall cliffs of old volcanic rock that were carpeted with green, three promontories visible in succession, the last fading gently into the mist of distance.

--

Up the road a little we stopped by Devil's Churn, a small collection of tidepools and rocky outcroppings with a unique shape. When the waves rolled in up the small natural channel, they collided with the sides and with each other, spraying roiling seawater to and fro. We wandered around the tidepools and looked for crabs, mussels, and barnacles. Then we stood and watched as successive waves rolled in, each one slightly different in where and how it sprayed the shore.

The trees above were old and windworn. They grew sideways until their canopies were tall enough, sometimes using the dead limbs of their neighboring trees (or even themselves) to shield them from the steady cold breezes coming off of the ocean. One of the trees had a pair of branches that told of such a story. The first branch grew horizontally, then curved up slightly, then went horizontal again. The second branch was higher on the trunk, and therefore younger. It grew straight sideways and then straight up, but it crossed the crooked branch in two places. Over the years, their growth had fused them together in two places, creating a wooden window of sorts, and showing that the newer branch had been able to grow up in place because it was sheltered by its older brother.

--

We ended our day in Newport at the Sylvia Beach Hotel. When we arrived, most of the rooms were full, but we lucked out and got the Dr. Seuss room. The what? Well, this particular hotel is actually a B&B, and each of the rooms is themed after a famous writer. There's the Melville, the E.B. White, the Oscar Wilde, Willa Cather, and yes, the Dr. Seuss (trivia fact – he's the best-selling author of modern history, with over 200,000,000 books sold), among many others. The rooms are all decorated, some more outrageously than others (ours had old comics done by Seuss, along with a collection of books and stuffed animals, and a giant mural of the Cat in the Hat on the wall). Instead of TVs and phones in each room, this place has a library and reading room on the third floor with complementary tea and coffee, big comfy chairs, an ocean view, and spiced hot wine each evening.

We had dinner in the dining room downstairs, family style, with about 20 other guests, six of whom we shared a table with. As we watched the sun set in the ocean, we ate heartily and learned a few interesting things about everyone there. One woman had gotten a tattoo to celebrate her 60^th birthday, one had dated Shel Silverstein, one was a hypnotherapist, and one couple had to hire armed guards to keep their daughter-in-law's anti-semitic parents from disrupting the wedding... As the only out-of-state travelers in the bunch, we also got a boatload of tips on things to see and do on the rest of our trip.

After such a big, filling meal and some rousing conversation with plenty of laughter, we all retired for the evening, some to the library for hot wine and a good book, and some to equally pleasant slumber.

--

Funny road sign of the day:

Organic Firewood

(seen in Reedsport, OR)

This morning we woke up to a cacaphony of geese on Lake Selmac.  Last night we'd decided to try for warmer temperatures inland in a last-ditch attempt to keep up our camping.  The low last night was probably in the low 40s, and this morning we agreed that there wouldn't be any more camping unless the weather warmed up.  That's quite unlikely, since this time of year isn't balmy anywhere in the pacific northwest. 

We did have a pretty nice view of the mist slowly clearing off over the lake this morning, so it wasn't all that bad.



After breakfast we packed up asap to get on the road (and in the heated car).  We stopped in Grants Pass, OR for some coffee (I'll quit after this trip, possibly, but the coffee up here is so good!), and hit yet another scenic route on our way to Crater Lake National Park.

A couple of hours later, after following the Rogue River for several miles, we arrived in time to catch the orientation video and learn all about the history of the park.  It was also nice to be indoors for a bit, as it was a sunny 39 degrees outside.

We ate some lunch and headed up the trail to an overlook above the lake, right over Wizard Island.  The wind was brisk, but the view was worth it!



On the way back down, I even got one of the first shots of Dad and me of the whole trip! (I'll take more, I swear.)



--

Since our camping days are over, we decided to head back to the coast to take it easy until Thursday.  We found a hotel in Coos Bay, OR and got some pizza for dinner.  Tomorrow morning, by the decree of the Automobile Beautification Committee, we're going to clean out some of the junk from the car.  It's only been a week, and we've already lost a few things inexplicably, and there's a good chance that we have multiple trash bags going right now, but we can't tell what's what in the back seat... 

--

Funny road sign of the day:

Congestion

(seen in some podunk town with no traffic, no traffic signals or stop signs, and two cars that didn't look likely to run in any given yard)

Cold night last night. Dad got chilled, and we reached an unstated understanding that our camping days are numbered. A couple of hours after breakfast, the fog that rolled in overnight cleared off and the sun came out. We warmed up enough to feel human again, and then we headed north along the coast to spend some time at Redwoods National Park.

We stopped at the visitor center and got some tips on a couple of short hikes through the groves of giant trees. Our first stop was to see the interpretive trail in the Lady Bird Johnson grove, which was a mile walk among some unbelievable trees. Some had trunks that had been hollowed out by fires, yet the trees were still alive and growing a couple of hundred feet tall. When I say that they were hollowed out, I don't just mean a little bit – I could stand in the center of what used to be the trunk with my arms outstretched (I have a six-foot wingspan) and not touch the sides.

There were places where trees had fallen relatively recently, including a couple that crossed the trail. I climbed up on one side and Dad the other, and we walked to our respective ends and turned to face each other. We had to shout to hear one another, and I took a photo of him standing at the other end... he looked about two inches tall. (this photo was zoomed in all the way)

After lunch, we drove up the road a bit to the Cathedral Trail loop, which took us on a 2.5 mile trek through the redwoods again. At one point, we both commented that our necks were starting to get tired from looking skyward so much. I felt like a tourist on my first trip to Manhattan, craning my neck to gawk at all of the tall buildings. Only this place was much safer, more peaceful, and more beautiful. And it smelled much better. But the trees were certainly tall!

About halfway along our hike, we stopped at a point where the trail passed through two groups of redwoods that were growing very densely. Each side of the trail had a cluster of at least 8 trees growing together, many of which had started wrapping their bark around one another. Here we decided to lie down and give our necks a rest. The trees had dropped enough bunches of needles to make a mat several inches thick against the slanted roots, so we really just leaned back and reclined, our feet still resting on the edge of the trail, and looked up at the sky twinkling from between the branches of these immensely tall trees as they swayed gently in the wind.

--

We started driving again around 4, and due to the cold weather we decided to turn inland for the night. We passed through Crescent City and turned to the northeast, passing into southwestern Oregon for the night. We watched as the forest changed from coastal redwoods to sugar pines, and before long a few clearcuts started appearing on the hillsides.

Tonight we're camping inland where it's warmer, and tomorrow we're hoping to head up to Crater Lake National Park. Tonight, the geese have been honking on the lake, and the frogs have been chirping in the trees.

So, we stayed at a Motel 6 in Reno last night, and it was a pretty funny experience. For 10 times the price of our previous night's campsite, we enjoyed a hotel room that smelled like wet dog, in which the bathroom light didn't work, the fan didn't work, the sink drained at a glacial pace, and the ventilation fan rattled like a beat-up old chevy.

For all of that, we slept decently after driving around Reno for half an hour in a Harley convention (no, seriously, downtown was blocked off for the bikers) trying to find a Chinese restaurant. The food we ended up with was mediocre but not toxic, which wasn't bad at all for Reno...

This morning we stopped for an oil change, and the man who filled out the paperwork with Dad had an enormous wad of chewing tobacco stuck in his lower lip. I don't know if he thought that no one could tell, but it was so obvious that it was hard not to laugh. It's the little things...

We hit the road out of town around 10, and headed northwest toward the California coast. We drove through a couple hundred miles of forests, which dropped from 5000 feet to sea level by the time we finished. Lunch was a couple of sandwiches by the side of a dammed lake just west of Redding, and we hit highway 101 by five o'clock. A little punchy from so many days behind the wheel, we both decided to take the first campground that we came upon, which happened to be an RV park (the state park on the beach was full). Once again it was time for some pasta, salad, and good conversation for dinner.

Bedtime was early for us, since the coast is quite a bit cooler than points inland. The temperature dropped from 80 in the mountains west of Redding to around 55 just north of McKinleyville where we camped. That and the humidity cooled us down and drove us tentward pretty quickly, an appropriate welcome to Autumn for these weary travelers.

The sea lions out on Patrick's Point sang us to sleep...

--

Funny road sign of the day:

Welcome to Big Flat - Population 0

(Seen in Big Flat, CA)

 

We woke up this morning in the Oak Creek campground. Fall was in the air, and it was cool enough that the sleeping bag felt warm enough to not want to get up yet.

On the road, heading west from Delta, Utah, we drove down into a basin where there was an enormous dry lake bed that had become a salt flat that stretched for miles. It was a blanket of white that crawled to the feet of the mountains to the south.

Just on the other side of the Nevada border, we turned south for a detour to the Great Basin National Park. Our road up was narrow, steep, and winding for 12 miles until we reached the 10,000' it ended at a trailhead tucked under some gold and yellow aspens.

Up the trail 1.5 miles live some of the oldest living things on earth – a stand of Bristlecone Pines. They're perched on a ridge on the east side of Mount Wheeler, growing up out of the rock. Most have been alive for longer than we can reasonably understand. Some sprouted around the time that Mohammed marched on Mecca, some when Christ was born, some when the Pyramids were built in Egypt...

Walking among these ancient trees was a humbling experience – I am to them what a mouse might be to me: they've been around since before my family tree, and they'll still be growing long after my descendants have forgotten that I was. To them my lifetime is but the blink of an eye, the sprouting of a new branch, the dropping of the next generation's cones. Some of these trees are estimated to grow from a seedling to a height of four feet in 200 years.

Their wood had a slight smoky scent to it, as if they were still exhaling the soot from the last set of California wildfires that had settled this far downwind. The dust, ice, and harsh winter winds had polished smooth the barkless wood that was exposed, yet the trees still stood and grew, their gnarled limbs reaching slantily to the sky.

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The next stop was Eureka, NV, where Dad and I had some lunch before he took the wheel. We kept driving onward to the ceaseless series of mountain ranges that kept interrupting the desert to our west. We passed salt flats, sand dunes, and dry dustbowls of land that looked much like Colorado without the snow and rain.

About 20 miles shy of a town called Fallon, we came upon a fenceless expanse of sand that reached for a couple miles in either direction. The earth had dried and crusted over here, resembling the leathery skin of an old man who'd lived too many years in the desert sun, cracked and wrinkled... For a few miles, there were beds of rocks scattered several hundred feet from the road, and then some graffiti appeared along the side of the road. Travelers had stopped, walked out across the hardened sand, gathered armloads of rocks, and written notes for all to see in the whitish sands in the middle of nowhere.

What a way to leave one's mark on what will, after all, one day be nothing more than an artifact of a time long gone: Highway 50.

This brings us to today's funniest road sign:

The Loneliest Road in America

(seen all along Highway 50 in Nevada)

This morning we woke up just outside of Moab, UT. We had breakfast, packed up camp, and hit the road for a little detour that was well worth taking.

Arches National Park was our first stop. It's an incredible section of sandstone in the desert that has been slowly eroded over a few million years to create some uniquely beautiful landscapes. Rock of varying hardnesses that's been eaten away by ages of rain and wind create geologic formations that are seemingly inexplicable.

      

Balanced Rock consists of a 3,500 ton chunk of sandstone resting on a thin spire that looks impossibly precarious.

 

We stopped by and visited a few arches and “windows” (where a giant hole had been eroded in a solid wall of sandstone), and had some nice walks among the stones and a leisurely drive through the petrified sand dunes from some ancient shore.

When the sun hit noon-high, we headed north and then west a bit to get to the Island in the Sky district of Canyonlands National Park. The drive there was impressive, as we climbed through several layers of geologic-timescale history and crossed “The Neck” (a narrow bridge of rock that connects the Island to the rest of the high plateau) and entered the park.

Sweeping views that stretched for tens of miles in every direction met us around every turn. Here, the Colorado River had carved a channel over 1,000 feet deep in the red, white, and yellowish sandstone. Over there, the Green River had dug a similar trench as it wound its way from the mountains in western Wyoming to meet its end in this series of canyons as it joined with the river from the Rockies. Off in the distance, we could see the spires of sandstone that remained after rains had washed away the surrounding rock, giving rise to the Needles in the south.

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We ate lunch on some slickrock, tucked between a juniper and a twisted piece of dead wood in the early afternoon sun. Spread out several hundred feet below was a valley where the white sandstone had mostly resisted the attempts of the air and water to scrape it away. There was a meandering gully where the valley drained its infrequent rain to the river of in the distance, where the chunks of white fell as smooth boulders into the red stone below. Off to the east, some mountains loomed darkly in the haze, with hints of snow at their peaks.

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So, when I was trying to figure out how to work the camera, I accidentally deleted all of the pictures that I'd taken up to that point, including the ones of Hanging Lake, the Colorado River in Glenwood Canyon, and the shots of Dad and I at camp our first night. Oops. Hopefully I won't make that mistake again. The ones that I do have should be uploaded soon, so keep your eyes out for some fun pictures of Arches, Canyonlands, and some other parts of Utah.

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This afternoon we drove most of the way across Utah, which is a stunningly beautiful area. Tonight we're camped in the Fish Lake National Forest, with our tents nestled under a small grove of maple trees in some gently sloping hills. Dinner tonight was pretty simple – some pasta, bread, and salad. The half moon is up and slowly making its way across the sky, and it's still t-shirt comfortable around here at twilight. Tomorrow morning we're off across 100 miles of desert to the Great Basin National Park.

Funny road sign of the day:

Next Services 110 Miles

(seen on I-70 just before the exit for Green River, UT)

We hit the road out of Nederland around 11:30 this morning after packing up the car, running errands, and figuring out what on earth we were doing. It was my turn to drive until we got through most of Colorado, as Dad had never seen this route before, and the day was full of spectacular views.

We took the peak-to-peak down through the casino towns to the interstate, and the aspens were already turning for most of our drive – specks of yellow and gold along the hillsides scattered here and there. Lunch found us in Glenwood Canyon, having passed through Idaho Springs, Dillon, Frisco, and Vail – all awash in their fall colors. There'd been some snow already on some of the rocky gray peaks, and the sun was leaning south in the sky, just a few days from the equinox.

We started up the trail to Hanging Lake – one of the spots on my “to do: Colorado” list. It's a beautiful spring-fed lake that's about a mile off the Colorado River as it meanders slowly through the thousand-foot-high canyon on its way out of its namesake state. The hike was pretty grueling – over 1,000 vertical feet in a mile (roughly a 20% grade), and Dad chose the better part of valor and let me go on ahead while he went back to the rest area.

The views on the way up were spectacular, and the lake itself was gorgeous – waterfalls dropping into the lake, moss growing around rocks above and below it, and a clear turquoise-blue color to the shallow pool surrounded by steep, terraced cliffs.

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Back at the car, we packed up, having settled that troublesome question about our different activity levels... We agreed that we'd hike together when it was reasonable, and that there would also be times when I'd head off to do a few more strenuous things on my own. It seemed like the best solution to having a 26 year old and a 62 year old traveling to all sorts of beautiful outdoor spaces together.

We left the Rocky Mountains through the western slope, past the point where the last of the ancient cliffs tower over the winding river, past the irrigated vineyards, past the transition from Ponderosa to Pinon/Juniper forest, past the wide expanse of scrub brush...

Utah welcomed us with miles of desert in every direction, and we turned south to descend into the red-rock canyons around Moab. We pitched camp just a few miles out of town, in country that can most readily be recognized as the scenes from the road-runner cartoons. You know the ones...

We caught up with the Colorado River again as it wound its way toward the confluence with the Green River. On its way to what we would call Moab, it started carving out a trench several hundred feet deep in the red sandstone of eastern Utah's gently sloping desert. Our route took us along its banks for several miles, and we found a nice spot to camp a bit before sundown.

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When packing for a camping trip, it's always a good idea to bring a can opener... Luckily, instead of sandwiches for dinner, we borrowed one from the guys in the next site. Perhaps we'll pick one up next time we buy canned soup for dinner.