Dear Friends,
Yesterday I spent the night in a Wal-Mart parking lot and today I write to you from a Starbucks. I honestly do not know what has become of me. Although, in my defense, the ratio of bars to coffee shops is drastically different on the East Coast. After driving Aleisha to the Airport on Wednesday, I made an early start of it and began my drive to upstate New York. I did not feel inclined to stop in Buffalo for any reason, although I did have a strange desire to run up to a Buffaloan and shout Buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo! Alas I did not. I continued North to Niagara Falls and contemplated my fleeting mortality as well as the tensile strength of a bungee cord (kidding). There are two main attractions to Niagara Falls State Park, neither one of which is Niagara Falls. They do not exist. The park is the first State Park in the nation and includes American Falls and the more famous Horseshoe Falls. After taking my leave of all things falling and moist I crossed the border into Canada and visited the Butterfly Conservatory which, contrary to popular belief in Canada, is not a front for a terrorist cell. Try convincing a border agent of THAT. I then drove to Rochester and engaged in my most recent hobby, wandering about. The next day was spent driving to Burlington, Vermont which reminded me in no small part of Arcata. I have noted with some dismay that pop culture seems to have homogenized the dialect of our country, and most people in major cities have little to no detectable accent to me. Vermont especially so. Throughout the North East are sprinkled quaint little towns and villages which consist of 1 volunteer fire dept, 1 Lutheran or Anglican or Catholic church (or an Anglican and Catholic church across the street from one another), 2 or 3 bars, and a railroad. The next day I drove from about 11am to 8pm, finally reaching the Atlantic and spending the night in Bar Harbor. The next morning I awoke to the sun rising over an ocean, something of a novelty for me. That day was spent exploring Acadia National Park and driving down the coast of Maine to my present location in Bath. I am sorry to report that there are no pictures to accompany this post (or likely any in the future) as I am without a digital camera. I am afraid you will have to use your imaginations.
I plan on staying in Maine and New Hampshire today before arriving in Boston later this week.
A good day to you all,
Pickles
Current mileage: 10,510.9
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Days 67-82
Hello friends and family!
Much has happened since our last post from Duluth. First, we traveled down to Minneapolis and spent one last day there before we moved on to Milwaukee, which is a pretty but windy city. In Milwaukee we walked around downtown, went to a local park and did a small nature hike, and toured Sprecher brewery. The beer samples at the brewery were a little too much for us unpracticed drinkers, however, and we got a little too toasted and had to sit in the parking lot for a while before driving on.
After Milwaukee we zipped over to Chicago and spent the day walking around Chinatown, Little Italy, and Navy Pier before going out swing dancing that night. One thing we noticed about Chicago is that everyone is really nice, and that was definitely true for the swing dancing scene. One awesome guy we met, named Gordon, even invited us to stay at his house for as long as we were in Chicago. We accepted and spent the next few days exploring the downtown area. The last evening we were there we all went to a swing dance at the Green Mill, a famous jazz club in Chicago, where they had a big band and a tiny (and packed) dance floor. The decor was awesome, and the place has a lot of history as a jazz club and some infamy as one of Al Capone's hangouts, so it felt really neat to be dancing there.
After Chicago we aimed our way towards Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania where my half sister lives. On the way we passed through Detroit and Cleveland. Detroit was a sad little city living in the shell of a much larger one. The population decline has been so dramatic that you can drive on streets (within sight of downtown) where almost every building is abandoned. However, despite being almost empty, standing around is illegal almost everywhere. We found this puzzling.
Also on the way to Pittsburgh, Evan and I changed our traveling plans. Traveling without money of my own has been too hard on me, and we decided that I would go home to Arcata and get a job and live with friends while he would continue on with the trip by himself. It was a really hard decision to make, but we both felt like it was the right thing. When we arrived in Pittsburgh we stayed two days with my sister's family (we met my nephew who is a wild but lovable child) and then I hopped a flight to San Francisco and a bus to Arcata, where I am now. Evan traveled on to New York. I hope everything is wonderful for all of you, and send your thoughts with Evan as he makes his way through the east coast.
Love, Rainbow
P.S. This will be my last post, but look forward to more from Pickles.
Much has happened since our last post from Duluth. First, we traveled down to Minneapolis and spent one last day there before we moved on to Milwaukee, which is a pretty but windy city. In Milwaukee we walked around downtown, went to a local park and did a small nature hike, and toured Sprecher brewery. The beer samples at the brewery were a little too much for us unpracticed drinkers, however, and we got a little too toasted and had to sit in the parking lot for a while before driving on.
After Milwaukee we zipped over to Chicago and spent the day walking around Chinatown, Little Italy, and Navy Pier before going out swing dancing that night. One thing we noticed about Chicago is that everyone is really nice, and that was definitely true for the swing dancing scene. One awesome guy we met, named Gordon, even invited us to stay at his house for as long as we were in Chicago. We accepted and spent the next few days exploring the downtown area. The last evening we were there we all went to a swing dance at the Green Mill, a famous jazz club in Chicago, where they had a big band and a tiny (and packed) dance floor. The decor was awesome, and the place has a lot of history as a jazz club and some infamy as one of Al Capone's hangouts, so it felt really neat to be dancing there.
After Chicago we aimed our way towards Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania where my half sister lives. On the way we passed through Detroit and Cleveland. Detroit was a sad little city living in the shell of a much larger one. The population decline has been so dramatic that you can drive on streets (within sight of downtown) where almost every building is abandoned. However, despite being almost empty, standing around is illegal almost everywhere. We found this puzzling.
Also on the way to Pittsburgh, Evan and I changed our traveling plans. Traveling without money of my own has been too hard on me, and we decided that I would go home to Arcata and get a job and live with friends while he would continue on with the trip by himself. It was a really hard decision to make, but we both felt like it was the right thing. When we arrived in Pittsburgh we stayed two days with my sister's family (we met my nephew who is a wild but lovable child) and then I hopped a flight to San Francisco and a bus to Arcata, where I am now. Evan traveled on to New York. I hope everything is wonderful for all of you, and send your thoughts with Evan as he makes his way through the east coast.
Love, Rainbow
P.S. This will be my last post, but look forward to more from Pickles.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Days 42 - 66: Farming to Duluth, MN
Dear Friends,
It has been a strange feeling being back on the road after settling down for a month with home cooked meals, fresh vegetables every day, and intermittent manual labor. I believe I described our duties on the farm in my last correspondence, so I shall not go into further detail. Our gracious hosts were Paul and Becky and their delightful children Hannah and Li. Paul is a full time farmer and teaches part time at the local State University while Becky works for the Department of Natural Resources in land management and conservation. Hannah does just about everything not the least of which is beginning High School, and Li is a leaf blown by the winds of interest and opportunity. We have had a wonderful time being a part of their family and learning many things beside farming. We made a 30 minute goat cheese mozzarella, bottled and spun honey (the process of extracting honey from the comb by centrifuge), baked scones, pickled cucumbers, and became surrogate hens. We took our leave last Monday after the shares went out (the farm is a CSA, dividing shares betwen members) and made our way North to Voyageurs National Park which we discovered is a lake. A really big lake. All of the camp grounds are accessable only by boat (or an ice bridge in the winter) and are scattered throughout the many islands between Minnesota and Ontario, Canada. We did take a short walk in the abutting forest which was a beautiful mix of maple, aspen, cedar and fir trees. Yesterday we came down into Duluth and found that, despite being between beautiful woods and a massive lake, it uses neither of these to improve its aesthetic. We played tourist (i.e. drove aimlessly through town) for most of the day and ate truffels.
Today is a new day and the sun is shining here, as I hope it is in your corner of the globe.
Stay in school and out of drugs,
Pickles
Mileage to date: 7222 mi.
It has been a strange feeling being back on the road after settling down for a month with home cooked meals, fresh vegetables every day, and intermittent manual labor. I believe I described our duties on the farm in my last correspondence, so I shall not go into further detail. Our gracious hosts were Paul and Becky and their delightful children Hannah and Li. Paul is a full time farmer and teaches part time at the local State University while Becky works for the Department of Natural Resources in land management and conservation. Hannah does just about everything not the least of which is beginning High School, and Li is a leaf blown by the winds of interest and opportunity. We have had a wonderful time being a part of their family and learning many things beside farming. We made a 30 minute goat cheese mozzarella, bottled and spun honey (the process of extracting honey from the comb by centrifuge), baked scones, pickled cucumbers, and became surrogate hens. We took our leave last Monday after the shares went out (the farm is a CSA, dividing shares betwen members) and made our way North to Voyageurs National Park which we discovered is a lake. A really big lake. All of the camp grounds are accessable only by boat (or an ice bridge in the winter) and are scattered throughout the many islands between Minnesota and Ontario, Canada. We did take a short walk in the abutting forest which was a beautiful mix of maple, aspen, cedar and fir trees. Yesterday we came down into Duluth and found that, despite being between beautiful woods and a massive lake, it uses neither of these to improve its aesthetic. We played tourist (i.e. drove aimlessly through town) for most of the day and ate truffels.
Today is a new day and the sun is shining here, as I hope it is in your corner of the globe.
Stay in school and out of drugs,
Pickles
Mileage to date: 7222 mi.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Days 26 - 41: Omaha, NB to Minnesota
Dear Friends,
Many things have happened since I last wrote, not the least of which is that we are now volunteering on an organic farm in Northern Minnesota picking vegetables and harassing chickens. But let us not put the cart before the horse. After basking in the reflected glory of sunflower fields outside of Pierre, SD, we headed South for the Maha Music Festival in Omaha, NB. Among others, we saw The Appleseed Cast, Army Navy, G Love & Special Sauce, and Dashboard Confessional. It was Super. We spent the night at yet another rest stop just outside the city before driving into Southern Minnesota and Eastern Iowa the next day. I must confess, the sight of a strange, badly lit, smelly rest stop is becoming quite comforting. After exploring the Northern section of the Mississippi river for a few days, we made our way into the Twin Cities, taking in the Minnesota State Fair (everything you could imagine fried on a stick and, not unrelated, Garrison Keillor), some late night swing dancing, as well as various local flavours. We were welcomed onto Northern Lights Farm on September 5th and have been picking vegetables, feeding cows and chickens, repairing fences, playing badminton, making cheese, and generally raising a ruckus ever since. At least as much as the hippie Quakers we are living with will allow. This morning we saw President Obama give a speech on health care. Live. We were sitting not 20 feet away from his face. He smiled in our general direction. I think I saw him blow us a kiss out of the corner of my eye, but I can't be certain.
I hope this letter finds you all frolicking in meadows of frankincense and myrrh.
Yours,
Pickles
Mileage to date: 6152.5
Times locked out: 0 and counting...Kurt
Many things have happened since I last wrote, not the least of which is that we are now volunteering on an organic farm in Northern Minnesota picking vegetables and harassing chickens. But let us not put the cart before the horse. After basking in the reflected glory of sunflower fields outside of Pierre, SD, we headed South for the Maha Music Festival in Omaha, NB. Among others, we saw The Appleseed Cast, Army Navy, G Love & Special Sauce, and Dashboard Confessional. It was Super. We spent the night at yet another rest stop just outside the city before driving into Southern Minnesota and Eastern Iowa the next day. I must confess, the sight of a strange, badly lit, smelly rest stop is becoming quite comforting. After exploring the Northern section of the Mississippi river for a few days, we made our way into the Twin Cities, taking in the Minnesota State Fair (everything you could imagine fried on a stick and, not unrelated, Garrison Keillor), some late night swing dancing, as well as various local flavours. We were welcomed onto Northern Lights Farm on September 5th and have been picking vegetables, feeding cows and chickens, repairing fences, playing badminton, making cheese, and generally raising a ruckus ever since. At least as much as the hippie Quakers we are living with will allow. This morning we saw President Obama give a speech on health care. Live. We were sitting not 20 feet away from his face. He smiled in our general direction. I think I saw him blow us a kiss out of the corner of my eye, but I can't be certain.
I hope this letter finds you all frolicking in meadows of frankincense and myrrh.
Yours,
Pickles
Mileage to date: 6152.5
Times locked out: 0 and counting...Kurt
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Day 20 - 25: Tetons to South Dakota via sunflour fields
Dear Friends,
I will not bore you with too many details this time - I am just writing to inform you of some of the highlights of our trip to date. After leaving Yellowstone National Park, we traveled South to Jackson Hole Wyoming, a town marketed on the idea that cowboys still exist and that you can be one too by buying this superb leather hat for only $59.99. Despite this we met some very nice people there: one the owner of a music shop/bistro/internet cafe who said that even though tourism has been dying off the past few years, landlords are maintaining an artificially high rent which many stores cannot afford, and are thus moving out of town. She also informed us that Jackson Hole used to be a small hippie ski town until about 5-7 years ago when the mayor and chamber of commerce decided to give the town a face-lift. Another friendly face was the owner of a hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop who was born and raised in Jackson Hole. He didn't complain about the rent, but did say that multimillionaires use Wyoming as a local Swiss bank, buying property locally and claiming it as their primary residence enabling them to take advantage of the state not collecting income tax. We made it into the Tetons for 2 days, both of us hiking up Indian Paintbrush Canyon where we set up camp. The next day Aleisha went back down that canyon while I continued on over Indian Paintbrush divide, and down the adjacent Cascade Canyon. No pictures from the return trip, but Aleisha saw a baby black bear, and I saw a moose, and a ground hog. Returning to civilization, we decided we were tired of WY, and needed to folow the Easternly winds to our next destination, Mt. Rushmore. The pictures unfortunately don't speak for themselves; this is a monument that truely needs to be seen in person to appreciate its scope. Along our route we collected some miscellaneous facts that you may find of interest: Mt. Rushmore is not completed (at least as far as the origional designer was concerned) as congress diverted its funding in 1941 due to an historical event, the designer Gutzon Borglum wanted in addition to Mt. Rushmore to sculpt a hidden cavern behind Lincolns head where all the important historical documents of the US could be stored but he failed to notify Congress of this secret plan and it was halted as soon as they got wind of it. There is still a drillbit stuck in George Washington's left eyeball. After feeling sufficiently patriotic, we continued South into the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, site of controversial shooting of F.B.I agents and arrest of Leonard Peltier. From there we went North to Badlands National Park. Pictures included. We are now safe and sound in Pierre, SD, and 2 hours in the furture compared with most of you. Don't worry, I think all of you are still alive.
All of our best,
Pickles
Current mileage: 4137.2
Times locked out: 0.00
I will not bore you with too many details this time - I am just writing to inform you of some of the highlights of our trip to date. After leaving Yellowstone National Park, we traveled South to Jackson Hole Wyoming, a town marketed on the idea that cowboys still exist and that you can be one too by buying this superb leather hat for only $59.99. Despite this we met some very nice people there: one the owner of a music shop/bistro/internet cafe who said that even though tourism has been dying off the past few years, landlords are maintaining an artificially high rent which many stores cannot afford, and are thus moving out of town. She also informed us that Jackson Hole used to be a small hippie ski town until about 5-7 years ago when the mayor and chamber of commerce decided to give the town a face-lift. Another friendly face was the owner of a hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop who was born and raised in Jackson Hole. He didn't complain about the rent, but did say that multimillionaires use Wyoming as a local Swiss bank, buying property locally and claiming it as their primary residence enabling them to take advantage of the state not collecting income tax. We made it into the Tetons for 2 days, both of us hiking up Indian Paintbrush Canyon where we set up camp. The next day Aleisha went back down that canyon while I continued on over Indian Paintbrush divide, and down the adjacent Cascade Canyon. No pictures from the return trip, but Aleisha saw a baby black bear, and I saw a moose, and a ground hog. Returning to civilization, we decided we were tired of WY, and needed to folow the Easternly winds to our next destination, Mt. Rushmore. The pictures unfortunately don't speak for themselves; this is a monument that truely needs to be seen in person to appreciate its scope. Along our route we collected some miscellaneous facts that you may find of interest: Mt. Rushmore is not completed (at least as far as the origional designer was concerned) as congress diverted its funding in 1941 due to an historical event, the designer Gutzon Borglum wanted in addition to Mt. Rushmore to sculpt a hidden cavern behind Lincolns head where all the important historical documents of the US could be stored but he failed to notify Congress of this secret plan and it was halted as soon as they got wind of it. There is still a drillbit stuck in George Washington's left eyeball. After feeling sufficiently patriotic, we continued South into the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, site of controversial shooting of F.B.I agents and arrest of Leonard Peltier. From there we went North to Badlands National Park. Pictures included. We are now safe and sound in Pierre, SD, and 2 hours in the furture compared with most of you. Don't worry, I think all of you are still alive.
All of our best,
Pickles
Current mileage: 4137.2
Times locked out: 0.00
Friday, August 21, 2009
Glacier National Park to Yellowstone
Hello Dear Friends!
We've done so much since we last posted that it's hard for me to remember where to begin.
Let's see... our last post was in Whitefish. After that, we drove to Glacier National Park and spent the night just outside of it. We saw our first sign of sun since Washington, and the brightest, fullest rainbow I've ever seen. The area around Glacier was hit by a huge forest fire not too long ago, so the whole place was a forest of charred, dead trees, but in some strange way it was actually beautiful. We cut part of my mane there, and maybe the birds that are returning will use my hair to build nests.
The next day we entered Glacier and obtained a permit to do some backpacking. We got all our stuff together and found the trailhead, which turned out to be a heavily trafficked route for horseback tours. And mind you, it's been raining for the past week. Basically, the first several miles of the trail were a trough of mud and horse poo. It was almost impossible to traverse, and by the end of it I never wanted to see another horse again. Or I did actually, but only to punch it. Our destination (Cracker Lake) was gorgeous though, so totally (mostly) worth it. The mountains reared up impossibly high behind an impossibly blue lake. It looked tropic (but felt like an iceburg). We got lucky and had some sun upon arrival, but it actually rained all night, so the next day, after trekking back through all the horse crap and rain, we decided to push on instead of going on another backpacking trip in the park.
After driving through some cities in middle Montana, forgetting Evan's debit card at Subway and going back for it, and staying the night in a few rest stops, we arrived at Yellowstone National Park. The first thing we noticed about Yellowstone is that the people who live around there and work there are really quirky. One guy we met at a rest stop (who was also travelling the country like us) was convinced that sulphur fumes are really dangerous, and y'know...maybe he was right. Maybe too much exposure makes you a little batty. Everyone was really nice though. If the people seem strange, they're nothing next to the landscape. Yellowstone is like another planet. The very ground boils and steams, and there are vibrant colors and strange shapes everywhere. We went backpacking in a canyon in the park, and we'd be hiking in full forest and come out in a clearing with blinding white soil and steam rising. You could walk next to a small hole in the ground and hear water boiling and gurgling inside. There was also so much wildlife. On this same backpacking trip we saw a grizzly bear foraging a few hundred feet from us. Driving along the road we spotted elk and bison, grazing right in full view.
Yellowstone is very touristy. To stop at any one of the "villiages" means battling crowds, eating tastless and expensive fast food, and wading through tons of souvinirs. We stopped to watch Old Faithful erupt, and we were elbow-to-elbow with families from all over the country and the world. Despite this, the backcountry was actually pretty private. Each of the camping spots were for only one party, which means we got to be alone on both the overnight trips that we took. We actually would have stayed longer in Yellowstone, because we liked it a lot, but I got sick on the last day (probably a bit of sun stroke, but i dunno), so we headed out to hang out in Jackson, Wy (where we are now) and get our energy up before heading back to Grand Teton National Park, which we are going to do today. Evan has aspirations for a 38 mile backpacking trip through those incredibly steep mountains, and we'll see if I'm up to it (actually, i'm trying to knock it down about 10-20 miles), but that's what we may be reporting to you next. We hope all is well and wonderful and maybe even sunny in Arcata, Mt Shasta and Seattle. Love to you all!
We've done so much since we last posted that it's hard for me to remember where to begin.
Let's see... our last post was in Whitefish. After that, we drove to Glacier National Park and spent the night just outside of it. We saw our first sign of sun since Washington, and the brightest, fullest rainbow I've ever seen. The area around Glacier was hit by a huge forest fire not too long ago, so the whole place was a forest of charred, dead trees, but in some strange way it was actually beautiful. We cut part of my mane there, and maybe the birds that are returning will use my hair to build nests.
The next day we entered Glacier and obtained a permit to do some backpacking. We got all our stuff together and found the trailhead, which turned out to be a heavily trafficked route for horseback tours. And mind you, it's been raining for the past week. Basically, the first several miles of the trail were a trough of mud and horse poo. It was almost impossible to traverse, and by the end of it I never wanted to see another horse again. Or I did actually, but only to punch it. Our destination (Cracker Lake) was gorgeous though, so totally (mostly) worth it. The mountains reared up impossibly high behind an impossibly blue lake. It looked tropic (but felt like an iceburg). We got lucky and had some sun upon arrival, but it actually rained all night, so the next day, after trekking back through all the horse crap and rain, we decided to push on instead of going on another backpacking trip in the park.
After driving through some cities in middle Montana, forgetting Evan's debit card at Subway and going back for it, and staying the night in a few rest stops, we arrived at Yellowstone National Park. The first thing we noticed about Yellowstone is that the people who live around there and work there are really quirky. One guy we met at a rest stop (who was also travelling the country like us) was convinced that sulphur fumes are really dangerous, and y'know...maybe he was right. Maybe too much exposure makes you a little batty. Everyone was really nice though. If the people seem strange, they're nothing next to the landscape. Yellowstone is like another planet. The very ground boils and steams, and there are vibrant colors and strange shapes everywhere. We went backpacking in a canyon in the park, and we'd be hiking in full forest and come out in a clearing with blinding white soil and steam rising. You could walk next to a small hole in the ground and hear water boiling and gurgling inside. There was also so much wildlife. On this same backpacking trip we saw a grizzly bear foraging a few hundred feet from us. Driving along the road we spotted elk and bison, grazing right in full view.
Yellowstone is very touristy. To stop at any one of the "villiages" means battling crowds, eating tastless and expensive fast food, and wading through tons of souvinirs. We stopped to watch Old Faithful erupt, and we were elbow-to-elbow with families from all over the country and the world. Despite this, the backcountry was actually pretty private. Each of the camping spots were for only one party, which means we got to be alone on both the overnight trips that we took. We actually would have stayed longer in Yellowstone, because we liked it a lot, but I got sick on the last day (probably a bit of sun stroke, but i dunno), so we headed out to hang out in Jackson, Wy (where we are now) and get our energy up before heading back to Grand Teton National Park, which we are going to do today. Evan has aspirations for a 38 mile backpacking trip through those incredibly steep mountains, and we'll see if I'm up to it (actually, i'm trying to knock it down about 10-20 miles), but that's what we may be reporting to you next. We hope all is well and wonderful and maybe even sunny in Arcata, Mt Shasta and Seattle. Love to you all!
Friday, August 14, 2009
Days 6 thru 12: Seattle to Montana Via Canada
Dear Friends,
I hope that I might remember all that has happened in these six days since writing you last so that you may better follow our travels, but I am afraid that my memory may not be up to the task. I shall endeavor to relay as best I can the events leading up to our present condition in Whitefish, Montana. Our time in Seattle was used well, spending a significant amount of time with my family and seeing a few of Seattle's sights, including Harry Potter in 3-D (well, at least twelve minutes in 3-D, including credits), as well as a butterfly exhibit at the Seattle Science Center in which one may walk through a dome filled with plants and butterflies from various locales. We were fortunate enough to see one emerge from a cocoon, but not fortunate enough to have remembered to charge the camera batteries to preserve the event for you. We had considered attending the Seattle Lindy Exchange, however the dance on Saturday night was $25 per person, a prohibitive price in our case, but we managed to entertain ourselves Monday night by going to a regularly scheduled dance at Sonny Newman's. We left Seattle on Wednesday morning on Highway 2 which took us over Stevens Pass through Wenatchee and into Leavenworth, a "Bavarian Village". I hope the pictures will accurately portray the fanciful whimsy that the Leavenworth Chamber of Commerce has so rigorously maintained despite the setback of being in the 21st century and in the United States. From there we traveled onward to Spokane and from there, Idaho. I should mention that between Leavenworth and Spokane we managed to drive through two monsoons and had the pleasure of learning the difficulties of driving a 1-ton hydroplane. None the worse for wear, we spent Wednesday night in Idaho at a location I cannot remember. We are slowly learning the intricacies of spending the night on privately owned land: finding a site out of the way enough so as not to be on a regular patrol route for the local law enforcement, but not so far off the beaten path that we might be shot for trespassing. Thursday we continued to Sandpoint, ID where we found a small coffee shop. It is here we made our first attempt to get jobs. Telling us she would call by Saturday if she was interested in some vagabonds, we left the owner to her brewing and made our way into Canada via Highway 95. Let me tell you my impressions of Canada: It costs $3.00 for an avocado. I know of no God-fearing man heartless enough to charge a starving fellow human being $3.00 for an avocado (organic of course). Until now...Canada. More of my observations about Canada include: It has clouds at all elevations, from a few hundred feet, into the stratosphere (granted I'm not entirely certain where the stratosphere begins) that form citadels of billowy, white cotton candy. Canada grows potatoes while Idaho does not (at least where South Eastern British Columbia and Northern Idaho are concerned). Canada has hot springs, but they have been dug out and used to heat chlorinated pools filled with more obnoxious tourists than anything resembling water from a natural source. But these facts are neither here nor there, and I shall move us back to the narrative, which I find much more edifying. After the aforementioned displeasure at the state of the local water resources, we obtained directions to an undeveloped hot springs, where we met a friendly Canadian Gent whose every sentence came out as a question. The springs were tiered with the highest being closest to the source and the lowest combining with a small river which was icy cold. We spent about an hour and a half chatting about this and that, later staying at a nearby campground. I can still smell the sulpher being exuded from my pores. Leaving the camp ground bright and early (around 4:30 a.m.) we eluded the Canadian Provincial Forest Rangers and found somewhere to spend the rest of the night that didn't cost $15. That brings us more or less to our present location in Montana. Whitefish is a nice town of medium size that hosts a large population of outdoor enthusiasts, a middle school that is about as big as my high school (my graduating class was over 400 strong), and at least 2 NFIB members. This weekend is a National Parks free day which we will take advantage of in Glacier National Park, and I hope you will enjoy it just as much in your part of the world. I trust that you are all well and staying out of more trouble than we are getting into.
Pickles
Current Mileage: 1836 mi.
Times locked out: 0
I hope that I might remember all that has happened in these six days since writing you last so that you may better follow our travels, but I am afraid that my memory may not be up to the task. I shall endeavor to relay as best I can the events leading up to our present condition in Whitefish, Montana. Our time in Seattle was used well, spending a significant amount of time with my family and seeing a few of Seattle's sights, including Harry Potter in 3-D (well, at least twelve minutes in 3-D, including credits), as well as a butterfly exhibit at the Seattle Science Center in which one may walk through a dome filled with plants and butterflies from various locales. We were fortunate enough to see one emerge from a cocoon, but not fortunate enough to have remembered to charge the camera batteries to preserve the event for you. We had considered attending the Seattle Lindy Exchange, however the dance on Saturday night was $25 per person, a prohibitive price in our case, but we managed to entertain ourselves Monday night by going to a regularly scheduled dance at Sonny Newman's. We left Seattle on Wednesday morning on Highway 2 which took us over Stevens Pass through Wenatchee and into Leavenworth, a "Bavarian Village". I hope the pictures will accurately portray the fanciful whimsy that the Leavenworth Chamber of Commerce has so rigorously maintained despite the setback of being in the 21st century and in the United States. From there we traveled onward to Spokane and from there, Idaho. I should mention that between Leavenworth and Spokane we managed to drive through two monsoons and had the pleasure of learning the difficulties of driving a 1-ton hydroplane. None the worse for wear, we spent Wednesday night in Idaho at a location I cannot remember. We are slowly learning the intricacies of spending the night on privately owned land: finding a site out of the way enough so as not to be on a regular patrol route for the local law enforcement, but not so far off the beaten path that we might be shot for trespassing. Thursday we continued to Sandpoint, ID where we found a small coffee shop. It is here we made our first attempt to get jobs. Telling us she would call by Saturday if she was interested in some vagabonds, we left the owner to her brewing and made our way into Canada via Highway 95. Let me tell you my impressions of Canada: It costs $3.00 for an avocado. I know of no God-fearing man heartless enough to charge a starving fellow human being $3.00 for an avocado (organic of course). Until now...Canada. More of my observations about Canada include: It has clouds at all elevations, from a few hundred feet, into the stratosphere (granted I'm not entirely certain where the stratosphere begins) that form citadels of billowy, white cotton candy. Canada grows potatoes while Idaho does not (at least where South Eastern British Columbia and Northern Idaho are concerned). Canada has hot springs, but they have been dug out and used to heat chlorinated pools filled with more obnoxious tourists than anything resembling water from a natural source. But these facts are neither here nor there, and I shall move us back to the narrative, which I find much more edifying. After the aforementioned displeasure at the state of the local water resources, we obtained directions to an undeveloped hot springs, where we met a friendly Canadian Gent whose every sentence came out as a question. The springs were tiered with the highest being closest to the source and the lowest combining with a small river which was icy cold. We spent about an hour and a half chatting about this and that, later staying at a nearby campground. I can still smell the sulpher being exuded from my pores. Leaving the camp ground bright and early (around 4:30 a.m.) we eluded the Canadian Provincial Forest Rangers and found somewhere to spend the rest of the night that didn't cost $15. That brings us more or less to our present location in Montana. Whitefish is a nice town of medium size that hosts a large population of outdoor enthusiasts, a middle school that is about as big as my high school (my graduating class was over 400 strong), and at least 2 NFIB members. This weekend is a National Parks free day which we will take advantage of in Glacier National Park, and I hope you will enjoy it just as much in your part of the world. I trust that you are all well and staying out of more trouble than we are getting into.
Pickles
Current Mileage: 1836 mi.
Times locked out: 0
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Road of Death
This is the hellish road we took over the cascades. At one point I'm looking over to the left where I can see a cliff thinly veiled by an occasional tree and some bushes. I look to the right and realize I can see past a layer of trees to thin air. As if it wasn't bad enough that there was a cliff on one side...there was a cliff on both sides! Definitely the stuff of nightmares. I actually started panicking when we came to a part in the road where it divided four times and only two ways was it labeled...neither one being our destination. We'd already had car trouble and we hadn't seen a sign of another person in an hour. It sure was pretty though...
Dad and Kim
This is my dad and stepmom. They took us on this crazy hike that required much bushwhacking, but it eventually took us to a trail that was totally worth it. Hidden, green and luscious. At this one spot Dad and Kim sit down in this grove of trees that were gnarled and dark. My dad tells me they're yew trees that are actually hundreds of years old. It was pretty amazing to stumble on.
Days 4 thru 5: Mt. Shasta to Seattle
Dear Friends,
So much has happened the past two days; it feels as though a week has past since I wrote you last. We departed Mt. Shasta on day 3 after taking a walk with Aleisha's dad, Jack, and his girlfriend, Kim, and landed just North of Grants Pass. That night we slept beside the Rogue River - it made me feel positively mischievous. Aleisha started driving early while I slumbered peacefully in the back. The next town we stopped in was Roseburg which I deemed a small-large town (one which has no character, and has nothing of interest). We said hello to the local welcoming committee at the City Center where a kindly old lady with an evil twinkle in her eye told us of marvelous waterfalls, spectacular craters, and bizarre otherworldly rock formations, all to be seen on a minor detour through the back country roads of Oregon. We, being foolish city slickers, took her at her word and jumped into the car with what can best be described as "giddiness". Little did we know that before the day was done we would be transported to a land of nightmares and almost certain death. It all began in Cottage Grove, a small unassuming town of which we saw none of. Turning onto a side road almost as soon as we entered the town, we headed east, hesitating at every fork in the road, questioning every turn we took. After turning around and crossing a few uncovered covered bridges, we were on the right path...or so we thought. The road took us through lush forests, filled with moss and camping Hippies, and babbling brooks, filled I assume with fish and possibly more Hippies. I can only guess that this scene of Kinkadian (obscure reference to Thomas Kinkaid, painter of quaint scenery) rusticity was meant to lure us into complacency as the shadows crept in around us. Soon we were climbing over the Cascade range, mist swirling about us, wild brush creeping in and grabbing at us with twiggy branches, small game running madly about us in an attempt to confuse us into driving off the cliff which was eating away the road as we drove across it. The nightmare had begun. At every turn we looked for some direction, a guide back to the world of sunlight, landscaping, and domesticated fowl, but little help was to be found. Instead we meandered, directionless, through the Cascades, first up then down, first right and then left. And then, when all hope was lost, a sign. Oh what a glorious sign it was, colored brown like the soft dirt of my youth, painted with white letters like the wings of a dove and beat into the ground like my present morale. "Hwy 58 - 16 mi." was all it said, but those words rang in my ears for the next hour as we made our descent back into sanity. Then our car broke down. I will not suffer you the details of this setback, dear friends, only to say that we are now safely in Seattle, car only slightly the worse for wear. And as it is now my turn to hop in the shower a shall bid my adieu. As always I trust that this letter finds you in good health and spirits. Please write and tell me of your own adventures.
Pickles
Miles to date: 985.5
Times locked out: 0
So much has happened the past two days; it feels as though a week has past since I wrote you last. We departed Mt. Shasta on day 3 after taking a walk with Aleisha's dad, Jack, and his girlfriend, Kim, and landed just North of Grants Pass. That night we slept beside the Rogue River - it made me feel positively mischievous. Aleisha started driving early while I slumbered peacefully in the back. The next town we stopped in was Roseburg which I deemed a small-large town (one which has no character, and has nothing of interest). We said hello to the local welcoming committee at the City Center where a kindly old lady with an evil twinkle in her eye told us of marvelous waterfalls, spectacular craters, and bizarre otherworldly rock formations, all to be seen on a minor detour through the back country roads of Oregon. We, being foolish city slickers, took her at her word and jumped into the car with what can best be described as "giddiness". Little did we know that before the day was done we would be transported to a land of nightmares and almost certain death. It all began in Cottage Grove, a small unassuming town of which we saw none of. Turning onto a side road almost as soon as we entered the town, we headed east, hesitating at every fork in the road, questioning every turn we took. After turning around and crossing a few uncovered covered bridges, we were on the right path...or so we thought. The road took us through lush forests, filled with moss and camping Hippies, and babbling brooks, filled I assume with fish and possibly more Hippies. I can only guess that this scene of Kinkadian (obscure reference to Thomas Kinkaid, painter of quaint scenery) rusticity was meant to lure us into complacency as the shadows crept in around us. Soon we were climbing over the Cascade range, mist swirling about us, wild brush creeping in and grabbing at us with twiggy branches, small game running madly about us in an attempt to confuse us into driving off the cliff which was eating away the road as we drove across it. The nightmare had begun. At every turn we looked for some direction, a guide back to the world of sunlight, landscaping, and domesticated fowl, but little help was to be found. Instead we meandered, directionless, through the Cascades, first up then down, first right and then left. And then, when all hope was lost, a sign. Oh what a glorious sign it was, colored brown like the soft dirt of my youth, painted with white letters like the wings of a dove and beat into the ground like my present morale. "Hwy 58 - 16 mi." was all it said, but those words rang in my ears for the next hour as we made our descent back into sanity. Then our car broke down. I will not suffer you the details of this setback, dear friends, only to say that we are now safely in Seattle, car only slightly the worse for wear. And as it is now my turn to hop in the shower a shall bid my adieu. As always I trust that this letter finds you in good health and spirits. Please write and tell me of your own adventures.
Pickles
Miles to date: 985.5
Times locked out: 0
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Days 1 thru 3 - Leaving Arcata and into Mt. Shasta
Dear Friends,
With laden carriage and tearful goodbyes we began our Greate Journie this Tuesday the 4th of August at 4pm. There was much this week that remained to be done, and there was no shortage of internal speculation on my part as to the abilities of myself and my dear partner Aleisha to accomplish all of the tasks necessary for our departure in a timely fashion. However we were availed by the winds of fortune and all loose ends were more or less tied by the time of our departure. We arrived in Dunsmuir at approximately 8:30 in the evening to a warm house, a clean bed, and a hot meal, luxuries I shall much miss while on the road. The next morning we got off to a late start, continuing on to picayune lake where we met Aleisha’s mom, Feather, her step dad, Bob, and Lewis, a family friend. Traversing the road to the lake was no mean feat, requiring much wincing in empathetic pain as we bottomed out several times and acquired several new squeaks and creaks. The remainder of the day was spent kayaking, swimming (with significant attention spent to avoiding the lake monster), hiking, and listening to many tales of fancy from Lewis. That night I soundly trounced Aleisha at horseshoes (7-0) and we slept in full view of the lake. This morning I woke before the sun had crested the top of the surrounding hills and we watched as the sun heated lake picayune, creating steam which was then blown, swirling, across the lake. I sit now, safely indoors, as rain pours down outside and thunder booms in the distance eating eggs and toast. I trust that you are all doing well and in good health, please do not hesitate to respond with news from your corner of the earth. Until next time.
Pickles
Mileage to date: 269
Times locked out: 0
Days 1 thru 3-- Aleisha's perspective
Dear Friends,
Leaving was hard, but it not as hard, I imagine, as it will be in a week or two when I finally realize we’ve left. We managed to get out of Arcata despite numerous small things to do at every turn of every hour, and despite Kurt’s threats to disable our car (if he did, in fact, do some tampering, it hasn’t yet become evident). We haven’t quite found a good rhythm and a good organization for living out of the car yet, but it’s getting a little easier everyday.
We’re on our third day right now, and the first day we arrived to my mom’s house (which was empty) and made dinner. I showed Evan a home video that a family friend made when I was about 15, which showed my siblings tromping barefooted and half-naked through the woods as they reenacted a scene of rural squalor. I played the part of the mild-mannered older sister who occasionally scolded my siblings. Needless to say, not much acting was required on any of our parts. Evan said it was a very enlightening video.
The second day we decided to follow my mom’s directions out to a remote alpine lake where she was staying with her husband and our crazy but lovable family friend Lewis (and by crazy I mean schizophrenic). Unfortunately, what my mom will drive her van through differs from what we will drive a van through…considerably. This road was bad…really bad. We’re talking stuff of my nightmares. Long, winding, narrow, unpaved, full of potholes, and set on an eroding cliff. It took 30-40 minutes to travel 7 miles! We survived though, and the lake was peaceful and beautiful. The cabin was plush too (it had a flushing toilet). To give an idea of the remoteness though: occasionally people will visit during the winter, but they have to cross-country ski 15 miles in. Normally there is a shovel mounted above the second storey window so that when they arrive they can dig through some of the 18 feet of snow to get in.
Anyways, we left the cabin this morning and we got to drive back on a different road (which was paved). Right now we are cozy in my mom’s house, listening to thunder and hoping the rain washes some of the dust off the faithful Avocado.
I hope all is well with you, and that life has somehow managed to continue without us ;)
Love, Rainbow
Leaving was hard, but it not as hard, I imagine, as it will be in a week or two when I finally realize we’ve left. We managed to get out of Arcata despite numerous small things to do at every turn of every hour, and despite Kurt’s threats to disable our car (if he did, in fact, do some tampering, it hasn’t yet become evident). We haven’t quite found a good rhythm and a good organization for living out of the car yet, but it’s getting a little easier everyday.
We’re on our third day right now, and the first day we arrived to my mom’s house (which was empty) and made dinner. I showed Evan a home video that a family friend made when I was about 15, which showed my siblings tromping barefooted and half-naked through the woods as they reenacted a scene of rural squalor. I played the part of the mild-mannered older sister who occasionally scolded my siblings. Needless to say, not much acting was required on any of our parts. Evan said it was a very enlightening video.
The second day we decided to follow my mom’s directions out to a remote alpine lake where she was staying with her husband and our crazy but lovable family friend Lewis (and by crazy I mean schizophrenic). Unfortunately, what my mom will drive her van through differs from what we will drive a van through…considerably. This road was bad…really bad. We’re talking stuff of my nightmares. Long, winding, narrow, unpaved, full of potholes, and set on an eroding cliff. It took 30-40 minutes to travel 7 miles! We survived though, and the lake was peaceful and beautiful. The cabin was plush too (it had a flushing toilet). To give an idea of the remoteness though: occasionally people will visit during the winter, but they have to cross-country ski 15 miles in. Normally there is a shovel mounted above the second storey window so that when they arrive they can dig through some of the 18 feet of snow to get in.
Anyways, we left the cabin this morning and we got to drive back on a different road (which was paved). Right now we are cozy in my mom’s house, listening to thunder and hoping the rain washes some of the dust off the faithful Avocado.
I hope all is well with you, and that life has somehow managed to continue without us ;)
Love, Rainbow
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