In praise of Durango

My new favorite town in America: Durango, Colorado. Cool, green, clean, scenic. The town has just the right amount of western flavor and modern athleticism, my favorite combo. The Animas River runs through town attracting rafters and kayakers. And, of course, there is the famous Durango & Silverton steam train which brings thousands of visitors to the area each summer.

There is a wonderful walking path alongside the Animas dotted with public parks and art. The day was beautiful. People were out on bikes and the river full of people floating in inner tubes. We strolled unknowingly upon a music festival at the Rotary Park where Allie climbed an aspen tree for a better view of the gazebo where players performed Peter and the Wolf. We asked an older couple, long-time residents, for a recommendation on where to go for lunch. Rather than explain, they insisted we hop in their car (an old Cadillac) to be dropped off door-side to Guido's, a cute Italian eatery on Main Street.

All day long Allison and I were singing the praises of Durango and wishing aloud that we could live there. And it did seem like the sirens of Durango were conspiring to lure us to stay. We joked and made references to the Chevy Chase movie, "Funny Farm," where he pays the townspeople to behave as quaint and charming as possible to lure a buyer for his house. It seemed that everyone in Durango was friendly, polite, and attractive.
We did, of course, ride the Silverton train. We opted for the bus ride up and the train ride back. The ride is long, but not dull if you like scenery. We were constantly on the look-out for wildlife and other interesting sights. Besides the gorgeous views of rushing waters and rustic train trestles and enormous drop-offs we saw a bear, deer, prairie dogs standing at attention, and the wildest of wildlife, the young folks floating the river who greeted the passing train by pulling down their swim trunks and mooning us.

Our stay in Durango was short. We next headed toward Silverthorne, Colorado where we spent the past week enjoying more wonderful weather and pine-infused atmosphere. And today I write from the worn sofa of my "permanent" home. Naturally, it's late and everyone's asleep (I'm the night-owl.) The Airstream is parked in the driveway until we get it unloaded. It stands as a beacon to the neighborhood that the wanderers are home at last. At least I think they see it that way. Could be, they're wondering how long that thing will sit in the drive.

I'll probably stop writing as I take time to readjust to home and fall back into the comfortable rhythms of normal life. So, until later, goodnight America.

Escape to San Diego

Now my excuse is that I don't have my camera USB cable to download photos to my Mac. I'm slow to write because we are often without Internet connection. Presently, we are north of San Diego, mostly in Cardiff-by-the-Sea. Allison has two weeks off from school so we decided to follow the Brown family up the Baja to San Diego, a road trip that was uneventfully safe. They left last week, but we're here for awhile longer visiting friends and family, shopping, sight-seeing, eating. Eating. I've sampled it all to my heart's content: In-n-Out burgers, corn dogs, VG's donuts, Red Mango frozen yogurt, pasta, pizza, cotton candy, anything that can not be found in Loreto-by-the-Sea, Baja California Sur.

Yessiree. And that is just the eats. We've towed Allison through Sea World, the Birch Aquarium in La Jolla, hiking and para-gliding in Torrey Pines, (yes, she para-glided) nearly every museum in Balboa Park, two movies of her choice, and several trips to the shopping mall for all those "necessities" we've been without. At some point we will be fat as ticks and need to return to our aesthetic life in Loreto to deflate. We've spent way too much dinero; it is easy to do in the States. My first trip to the grocery store left me aghast at the price of a loaf of bread, the "good" bread--over $4.00 a loaf. I bought five assorted pastry items at a bakery in Coronado that set me back 14 bucks. And that was after $7.50 a single scoop ice cream cone earlier in the stroll.

We pulled Airstream Abby out of storage. (We'd left her in Phoenix, but our friend borrowed her and stored her nearby.) We've stayed at San Elijo State Park when a site was available and at Campland when San Elijo was full, which is nearly always. Campland in Mission Bay is the Wally World of campsites, a full service operation which adds to comfort, but the atmosphere is amusement park-like. One week was enough. Since we can't get continuous time at San Elijo we'll now be roughing it at a RV park next to the Del Mar racetrack--meaning there is no Internet, cable, or showers.

The San Elijo campground is in Cardiff-by-the-Sea, a little hamlet called along the ocean north of Del Mar with iconic eateries and cute hang-outs. We had breakfast one morning at Pipes, the favorite of surfer dudes. I love to haunt the Seaside Market, a super-cute grocery with eye-popping produce. The campground is booked solid through October. Easy to understand why--a prime location oceanside. It's also surfer central. There is even a surf school on site. At the crossroads of Highway 101 and Chesterfield Drive sits a bronze sculpture of a surfer. He's supposed to represent the heart of Cardiff surf culture, but he's been met with a lot of playful ribbing by residents who've nicknamed him "The Kook," and dress him regularly in goofy attire.

We've been hanging with our good friend, David, who lives in Cardiff, and my cousin who is in Carlsbad. She had us all over for Easter Sunday, Italian-style. She's a W.A.S.P like me, but married an Italian, learned to cook mouth-watering lasagna and command, "Manga!" My mother drove up from Mesa, AZ with a good friend for several days. The days and their events have become blurred--we've packed in so much. I intend to pack in a lot more in the week left to us.

I'm not too far gone, yet

I thought I'd check back in for just a bit. I notice that people still check in on me. Sorry to disappoint. We spent a few months at home regrouping. Robert had some tests and is back on track. His health is good. We are currently in our second home in Loreto Bay enjoying the great weather. I've been here over two months and feel like I should have been writing about it, but I'm afraid to get started blogging about travel and living in Loreto if we are soon to end it by going home.

However, we aren't so sure we will end it. We still want to travel. We talk daily about what places we'd like to visit. We're saying crazy things like, "I wonder what it's like to live in Croatia?" and, "Do you think Buenos Aires is still a bargain?" "Wonder if we could ship the Airstream overseas?"

IF we do something crazy you know I'll be back blogging about it. I hate to ask anyone to stay tuned---but you never know.

Abby gets a rest

We cleared our things out of Airstream Abby in preparation for storage. Our plan is to fly home for the month of December then return to Phoenix to resume our year-long journey.

We started by removing all the perishables, but soon it was all things valuable and the project turned into an all morning affair. I am the more trusting of us two: I say leave it all. Robert emptied every little thing down to the bottle of aspirin. Now all our trailer possessions are in my mom's garage closets.
I guess I'll be leaving my shorts too, since it is winter back in Missouri.

My sister's boyfriend took this photo of Robert and me just minutes before he and Robert drove it away. It will be the last I see of our Airstream for awhile. The parting is temporary so I have no troubled feelings about it. I'll be happy to go home to my sprawling suburban house and I'll be just as happy to return to my compact streamlined habitat. It's all good.

Ralph and Abby Get a Bath

This was the best truck wash ever. It's next door to the Flying J truck stop on Ramon Road in Thousand Palms.

For $45 bucks this crew scrubbed down our Tahoe and Airstream. Money well spent considering whenever we try to wash them at a self-serve wash we go through half as much in quarters. Then later, we discover how bad a job we did. Abby is streaky and Ralph's lower panels are still grimy. Plus, my shoes and pant legs are soaked and my fingers numb from the cold water.

I'm sure the neighbors will miss us

Pack it up and move it out. We are leaving the sweet bliss of Julie and Pete's house for the great unknown--some RV or state park in Palm Springs. I'm thinking San Jacinto State Park might be a possibility. However, we may hook up with our new friends we met in San Simeon who are in Indian Wells right now. They have the 66 Tradewind Airstream and have rented a home in Indian Wells for a month. We could end up parked in front out another home again, just like here at Julie's.

We did no site-seeing at all while in Santa Barbara (unless you count shopping in old town Santa Barbara.) Most of the time our Tahoe was at the dealer's getting maintenance done. We also had a problem with the pin in the receiver hitch wearing down and had to get a replacement part delivered. We don't know why exactly the pin was doing that, but Robert felt it important to fix it. Probably a good idea, hey?

Now we are good to go. Time to get back into compact mode. We've been spoiled by the space and luxuries of a house and now we have to reign it in again and get lean. After Julie and Pete left for Merced, we sort of migrated to the house. We mastered the television remote, the dishwasher, the washing machine, the slippery temperature knob on the oven. I even located the circuit box when we blew a fuse. I know where Julie keeps her tin foil and Tupperware lids. I know which light switches work for which lights. The homemaker in me was arising from deep sleep. It's like riding a bike.

One by one, items from the trailer found their way into the house. We'll probably forget a bunch of stuff. We were here longer than expected. I might have worried that our Airstream in the street would perturb neighbors, but there are other RVs parked throughout the neighborhood. At least ours is pretty to look at. It has been nice to wake up to perfect warm weather every day, but where we're going there will be more of it. From there we head to Phoenix. And then we fly home for about a month for the holidays.

Is That Your Airstream?

I like to mix it up a little--a few nights camping followed by a night or two in RV luxury where I can catch up on laundry and get my fill of obnoxious cable news programming.

Talk about one extreme to the other: From the rustic campground of Yosemite we moved to a resort-like RV park in Paso Robles near the coast. For a pricey $46.50 a night we got a level piece of concrete complete with full hook-ups, cable, and amenities galore. The grounds were immaculate as well as the pool and hot tub (which we actually used.) Our Airstream Abby, which to us is a luxury apartment, sat like a pipsqueak among the McMansion motor coaches that filled the park. There must have been $50 million dollars worth of polished luxury units out there. However, we were not alone: I counted three other Airstreams, including this 1966 mirror-finished Tradewind.


Like Airstreamers tend to do, we gravitated over to the owners of this rig. Or maybe, they wandered over to us first, but anyway we got friendly and now we find ourselves having dinner together in our new spot--the rustic bliss of San Simeon State Park.
Our new friends are a wonderful couple from Seattle. We knew them all of 20 minutes before deciding to reunite at San Simeon. That's the weirdness of "Club Airstream"--instant friendship based on owning a certain aluminum tube on wheels. No back-ground checks necessary.

Here at our new digs we pay $20 dollars a night. We get a semi-level space with no hook-ups, but a partial view of the Pacific Ocean, a mere short walk from our door. The park is quiet and practically empty. Now that the generator is off we can hear the surf pounding the shore. The little town of Cambria is a couple miles away so we will do some exploring tomorrow after we stroll the beach. It is such a wonderful spot. We are thinking we might stay here a few days.

What we saw of Paso Robles was very nice. There are something like 200 wineries in the vicinity, but we didn't visit one. Again, with an 8 year old in tow, it is difficult. Instead, we went to a spa where we dipped into a mineral tub (stunk like sulphur) and strolled the historic square downtown and ate Thai food at a place called Basil. We kept wondering why the buildings all looked so new and we learned that a recent earthquake resulted in a lot of rebuilding. We also wondered why a place so temperate in climate and so close to the ocean is not a sprawling metropolis, but I'm guessing it may have to do with lack of water, or the occasional smell of sulphur, or maybe it's actively quaking. I don't know, but it seems like a lovely place to live.

Me and John

Twelve hours later and I am already dreaming of returning to Yosemite. I can't name one other spot on this trip that has the spiritual pull of that holy place. No surprise to me that John Muir became obsessive about it. There's no revelation he's proclaimed that I, too, would not have arrived at myself. So, that makes me a transcendentalist, like Mr. Muir. I always suspected so.

Muir wrote: I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown,
for going out, I found, was really going in.
Yeah, me too.

Yosemite: IMHO

Wherever we go I'm always scouting out internet access. Doesn't matter how beautiful the spot; I have to know where I can get online. I waste a fair amount of time in this pursuit.
Sometimes it pisses me off how difficult it can be when it doesn't have to be. I believe too, that some people, i.e., park employees, get a smug satisfaction in my discomfort. I imagine they have a prejudice against "tourists," with laptops in tow, as if we were addicts unable to enjoy the brief disconnect from our habit.

My cellular service is out of range therefore my data card is useless. I must find wi-fi which is severely limited to the two hotels here in Yosemite. The Ahwahnee offers its wi-fi free (supposedly to guests only), but the Yosemite Lodge charges a fee and requires a passcode. But to purchase this service you must wait in the 20-deep line of guest registrants. If that is too much trouble, you can purchase time on one of two internet kiosks at $.25 cents a minute. Same at the cafe near the Visitor Center, though there are a few more there. No thanks.

I do understand the concept of intentional disconnect. People complain that they can't get away from their work, or all things tech, but some of us think we can do it all. God knows I can spend 10 hours in the great outdoors taking in the meaning of wilderness. I just want to not spend one more driving around the park, wasting resources and time, parking and trekking to the hotel interiors to get online. Especially after dinner, when the sky is so incredibly dark that driving is not recommended and you're likely to run over something. What would be so hard about friendly locations for wi-fi? I have some other recommendations for the powers that be in Yosemite, but I don't think anybody much would care to hear them.

The Ahwahnee Lodge is impressive in its architecture and setting. And no one frowns on me for plopping in front of the huge fireplace with my laptop or has yet to ask me if I am a guest. At $400 plus dollars a night, I'll pass. Again, I sound like a complainer, but the Lodge did not blow me away. It is very nice, but not as grand in atmosphere as I had expected, which makes staying in the campground in my Airstream a fine alternative. Someplace like the Biltmore in Arizona puts out a better, more awake, atmosphere. The Ahwahnee is stuffy and unattended. The dining hall is the best feature inside. We tried to have dinner here last night, but the hall was reserved for a vintners' party. Maybe a fun party to crash, but we'll wait and have lunch or coffee later.

Airstreaming in Yosemite

Yosemite National Park. If we stayed one week it wouldn't be enough for me. I'm already anxious that I won't get the time or weather to explore all the sites and activities available. We are incredibly lucky that the weather is sunny and warm for our visit--the forecast being at least three days of sunshine and temps in the 70's. I awoke early today (an amazing feat for me) and brewed coffee the primitive way--on the stove since it was too early to crank up the generator. I showered and was pushing Robert out the door to take a long stroll through the village leaving Allison with the Luhr's.


We are in the Upper Pines campground alongside Rich and Eleanor. They arrived about an hour after we did yesterday. The girls are thrilled to be reunited. First thing we did was purchase the Junior Ranger program book and make plans for the ranger-led excursion through Cooks Meadow this afternoon. Ranger Eric was our guide (another lucky stroke.) He's a guy who really likes his job. He seemed as excited as the rest of us to spot a red-tailed hawk swoop through the meadow as well as the acorn woodpecker and five-point buck under the trees in the village.



I think I've been on my feet for 10 hours straight. Everyone is back at the campground but Rich and I who have found a spot in the Ahwahnee Lodge to get online and do our important work of informing everyone about how much fun we are having. Of course, the lodge is fabulously and rustically beautiful, but we've got our heads in our laptops. Tomorrow, Robert and I plan to have dinner here in the grand dining hall. That should top off another exhausting day of walking, gawking and ahhing at the beautiful sites. Also, since I've proven I can rise early, I plan to join in the Ansel Adams photography walk in the morning. I could sure use the photography tips since I'm not doing so well on my own. Maybe I'll have something wonderful to show for it tomorrow.

Trying to Get it Right

I think it's goodbye to Oregon for good. We kept lingering there because we liked it so much. The Valley of the Rogue State Park was nice though we didn't do any site-seeing or hiking. We spent our time getting to know Eleanor and Rich and watching Allison play with Emma. They hit it off so well we hated to pull them apart, but a good weather forecast for Yosemite urges us forward. We broke camp yesterday. Rich and Eleanor headed to Chico to visit friends; we headed to Redding. I had a vague idea that we'd find a state park close to Turtle Bay, but my research was shoddy and we ended up on the road to Whiskeytown and closed campgrounds. "Mrs. Jeeps," our GPS voice guide, was little help. She was as lost as we were. What information I could find online was incomplete and confusing. I was looking for Brandy Creek campgrounds but could never find it and finally Robert, worn out and frustrated, pulled into the parking lot of the Oak Bottom Marina and called it a night.

I really stink as a navigator. I don't get everything lined up before we take off and then I scramble to put it together in route. Maybe I think I'll have plenty of time on the road to research our next destination. Or maybe I think we'll change our minds and then my research will be wasted. Something wants me to be flexible, but more often it causes lost time and energy. I've promised to work on this, after all I'm not the one saddled with the job of driving. In fact, I get to relax, look at the scenery, play on my computer, and occasionally drift off to sleep. The least I can do it get us somewhere decent before dark.

But, selecting a place to land in a place you've never been before is not easy. You are considering so many factors. We've decided we like state and national parks best, but not all have campgrounds, and many campgrounds are closing for the season. Robert dislikes commercial RV parks. He hates being right up against another RV, and he hates paying for the night when the plan is to leave the next morning. My considerations are slightly different: I like laundry and shower facilities and internet access.



Three months on the road and we are getting wiser (the benefit of making mistakes), but we have much to improve on. Cutting back on expenses would be the first. It is easy to overspend. $30 dollars for an RV park is not uncommon. Restaurants, admission fees to various attractions, shopping, groceries, and gasoline can put us at $200 dollars in one day. If we were frugal we could bring that figure down considerably. This is the aspect of RV travel that I'd like to pay attention to now that the "honeymoon" is over.

Actually, in the last 24 hours I thought we'd done pretty well. $10 dollars for the overnight parking at Oak Bottom. I made potato and leek soup for dinner. Lunch, today, was leftovers eaten in the trailer at a rest stop. And tonight we are overnighting in the parking lot of the Flying J Truck Stop in Modesto. Pretty frugal, heh? However, we treated my aunt Rose and cousin Gigi in Folsom (the town, not the prison!) to dinner tonight and filled the gas tank twice. And with gas at $3.30 a gallon, well--goodbye, greenbacks.

Maybe we'll make more progress with this in Yosemite. But, once again, I don't really know what to expect there in spite of everything I'll read beforehand. This is the nature of the unknown. You just have to learn as you go.

Just your local folk

After our hike up McCloud River we dropped into Mt. Shasta to stroll around. Mt. Shasta is a sweet little city next door to Weed. The book store on the main drag looked appealing so we stepped in, ordered some coffee and a hot chocolate for Allison, and looked through some books. I love bookstores so much, it hurts. I get a certain anxiety from a room filled with new books and magazines. Instead of relaxing with a book, sipping my latte, making polite conversation, I get overexcited about the choices. So much to read, so little days left in my life. And I can't stay focused. Every section beckons to me. Do I want to know about logging history or the ecology atop old-growth redwoods? And, God, how distracting are those Log and Timber dream home magazines. I finally settled on a book of first-hand accounts of the women who traveled west on the Oregon trail, probably a real downer, but surely good perspective for a woman traveling in the luxury of a new aluminum, fully appointed, Airstream trailer.

And what else gets my eye is the local character of the townsfolk who gather here. There are odd people everywhere, but there is a particular oddness to the California/Oregon "hippy" folk. I think it's their gentleness. I snapped a photo of this gentleman outside the bookstore puffing on his hand-rolled cigarette. Not weed, but something else, though I'm not sure it was tobacco either. I liked the care he gave to twisting his hair into a pretty knot on top.

I am the Ag Man, goo goo g'joob

Success! We managed to get Carly on her plane back to Portland. As extra security we had purchased a reservation for the 1:00 ferry and left Roch and Cath's house in Victoria two hours early. When the ferry arrived in Vancouver we had some time to kill so we decided to visit the Granville Market. We pulled Airstream Abby through the city streets of Vancouver and into the Market drawing stares as we searched for a place to park. By the time we settled we only had an hour to see the place. Too bad, because we could have spent an afternoon loitering through the market. All that beautiful fruit laid out like boxes of jewels and the cheese and meat and fish and flowers and delicate desserts behind glass--what temptations!

We got Carly off and drove towards to border. At Peace Arch we were delayed a bit while the agriculture inspector took us aside. He asked for the keys to our trailer before grilling us on what illegal items we might be harboring. Do you have any beef? Robert shakes his head no. Then the inspector looks at me and I must have inhaled suspiciously for he followed with, "Now, if I find any in there, you're going to be paying a big fine." Now that he identified me as the weak partner he began directing his inquiries to me: "Any produce, any citrus, any flowers or plants?"

We were asked to wait inside the office while he searched our vehicles. He came back holding our frozen packages of Alberta beef, my fresh-cut flowers from the Granville Market, and the one forbidden lemon I forgot to claim. He held the lemon before my horror-stricken face and told me that not claiming this lemon could cost me $300 dollars, but since he was sure I had innocently forgotten the offending citrus he would let me off. Just tell your friends who plan to cross the border how serious we are. Then he handed me the flowers that he had checked for insects and said some cute things to Allison and off we went.

Our precious Alberta beef went into a special border freezer to be disposed of in a special sanitized landfill of which its owner was sure to be getting rich over, the ag inspector told us. All confiscated items must be destroyed. Yeah, right, we thought to ourselves. We imagined the guy rubbing his palms together saying, "Hmmm, what's for dinner tonight? New York strips, or ribeye?"

Butchart Gardens

You can't come to Vancouver Island and not see the Butchart Gardens, so that's what we did. We rode the ferry from Mill Bay over to Brentwood and lucky for us it was a partly sunny day. The gardens are phenomenal. I wished I could pick a bouquet full of these luscious flowers. Allie snipped a tiny piece of something that smelled wonderful and I hid it in my pocket. Hours later I was tossing it out with the tissue and crumpled receipts as it was no longer recognizable.

We were supposed to get Carly to Vancouver Airport this afternoon, but when we arrived to the Swartz Bay ferry we found it full. Incredible for a Tuesday we were told, but still, it threw us into panic mode wondering how to develop Plan B on the fly. Remember, we are on an island, you just can't hop over to Vancouver at will. We drove straight to the airport to see about putting her on a plane to Vancouver, but three air carriers later, we were nowhere. How about a helicopter, a concerned bystander suggested. Well, we're just not that panicked, thank you, we'll work something out.

We worked it out by rescheduling her flight to tomorrow--same carrier, same flight numbers, same escorts. Tomorrow will be our own personal Groundhog Day as we re-live the preparations and drive to the ferry again. On the bright side, Allison and James get Carly as a playmate for another day. Oh, and we stopped for lunch in Sidney, something we wouldn't have done, for fish and chips. We had the most fabulous plate of F&C's served with french-fried yams and curry-mayonnaise dip at Fish on Fifth where the world's most enthusiastic waiter, Sean, responded to our news that we were traveling North America by Airstream with "AWESOME!" about a dozen times. I could hear him from the kitchen repeating it over and over again. I felt inclined to take him along.

Togetherness

Down the coast to Victoria. We tried to get a spot at the Westbay Marine Village RV park, but it was full. The site was like an ugly parking lot, but the location was great--right on the harbor. The attendant was sorry not to have room for us; she loved Airstreams. "They class up the place," she said. Interestingly, we see few Airstreams on the road. Now that we have one we are always on the lookout for others. When we spot one we wave like fools trying to catch the attention of the owner. We imagine we are united in some exclusive club which ownership of the iconic silver bullet is claim enough to brotherhood.

We found another RV park, Fort Victoria, that for the time being will have to do, though I hate it. It is an unattractive parking lot, basically. We are used to the beautiful park settings of past campgrounds. We've developed definite likes and dislikes regarding our digs. We like to have a campfire, lots of space, good views, privacy. I like reasonable access to the internet and laundry facilities if possible. So, this morning we are packing up and heading a few kilometers north to Malahat Mountain Meadows Park in a more scenic setting among the cedars.



Yesterday, we picked up Allison's friend, Carly, from the Victoria airport. She flew in to spend a few days with us. Allison is thrilled beyond words. The atmosphere has altered dramatically towards all things girly. Giggles and games and slumber party antics. Robert and I are relegated to our bedroom to give them the space they need to be kids. Carly and Allison are friends from their schooldays at Colegio Calafia in Loreto. They share a unique experience that should bond them for a lifetime. An exclusive club, so to speak.

Ferry to Forest

We arrived in Vancouver today after an overnight in a campsite somewhere near Yale, British Columbia. We meant to stay at Hell's Gate, but it was so insanely dark when we arrived and there was no campgrounds in sight. We thought of overnighting in the parking lot of Hell's Gate, an attraction like involves gondolas and deep gorges probably like the Royal Gorge in Colorado, that but we were too spooked being the only ones there under a massive sign reading "Welcome to Hell's Gate." No thanks. We found a almost equally deserted campground further up the road and timidly pulled in. In the morning there was no one to pay; in fact the campground was void of all human presence, so we scatted.

No one warned us how spooky dark Canada can be. If not for your car headlights you'd be immobilized. Still, we made it to Vancouver by noon and went straight to the Horseshoe Bay Ferry crossing. Our first ride with Airstream Abby on a ferry and it was a perfectly smooth and comfortable trip. I think it cost about 158 dollars for us to cross the hour-and-a-half distance to Departure Bay on Vancouver Island. I had the bright idea of videotaping our disembarking the ferry. I watched as Robert drove right past me and on to the freeway as he had nowhere to stop. I had to hike a bit till I found him parked alongside traffic waiting for his nutty wife.

I made up for it by locating a perfectly sweet rhododendron-thicket of an RV park called, Living Forest. Once again Robert went for view over internet access and we are perched oceanfront. As usual I am in the Tahoe next to the office where I can get wi-fi. Allison has cable t.v. so she's a happy camper. Overall, we all are.

The Incredibles!

Add this to our list of dumb things we've done: Last night we locked ourselves out of our Airstream. Robert was preparing dinner, homemade meatballs and spaghetti and had shooed us away like all good cooks (after I had to give him tips on how to make meatballs.) The trailer was steamy and fragrant with his blossoming creation. I could no longer see into the fogged windows. When he emerged to announce dinner, he pulled the door shut. It locked. Or the lock was set and it just caught the latch. We don't know. And worse, both sets of keys were in the trailer.

We considered all the possible ways to get back in. Which window would be the least expensive to replace? What possible orifice could a human pass through? There has to be a way. I suggested going in through the storage compartment in the back. We would have to squeeze in and remove the back panel to the bed platform. But that task looked improbable. The bed on the other side would be heavy to lift and we'd have little leverage. Plus we'd probably tear things up. We had some things in our favor: We had a spare ignition key to hidden on the Tahoe. My laptop and phone were in there. We could call a locksmith though it might be morning before one could come, if there were any in the area. Best of all, we were parked outside Grant and Joanne's cabin and we'd cleverly spied where Grant hid the house key.

But, waaaahhh, we want in our trailer. ME: There's dinner in there!" ALLISON: "My Webkinz are in there!" ROBERT: "There's beer in there!" WE"RE GOING IN!

Being the smaller adult I stuffed myself into the storage compartment and commenced to removing the rows of screws so intensively implanted there by high speed factory drills, no doubt. Anyone thinking this would be a simple route to break into an Airstream be forewarned: IT"S NOT! After the first three or four screws I was re-thinking the hijacked cabin as a cozy possibility, but I'm a trouper so I carried on. Allison fretted and worried for me and Robert spoke silly encouragements. With three more screws to go I begged him to finish the job. He stuffed what he could of his torso into the compartment and began work. When the screws were removed there was still the plywood separating the compartment from the interior to unwedge. Finally, when he managed enough space we called for Allison. Someone small was needed to squeeze through. She was in within seconds and running the seven or eight steps to the door. After some encouragement on how to manage open the lock, she let us in.

Cheers! What teamwork! We were as proud as thieves after the heist. Dinner was served and we all got to sleep in our own beds. That is, after Robert reassembled ours and reattached the plywood partition. How he managed, I don't know. By then, Allie and I were on to other things. Apparently, he was feeling so giddy from our success and the savings of hundreds of dollars in locksmith fees that he suddenly grew svelte and agile. He-he.

By the way, his meatballs and spaghetti was divine!

Hidden Treasures

Today was Allison's eighth birthday. We spent it searching for letterboxes hidden in Miligne Canyon and Lake in Jasper National Park. This was our first attempt at this game since learning about it just days ago. People make and hide these boxes in the outdoors for others to find by following clues online. It is very simple really and fun. It makes the hike up a steep terrain a little more tolerable for a kid knowing there's a mystery to solve. Allison just loved it. Now we are planning our own letterbox project.

Our friends, Grant and Joanne left for their home in Edmonton, sorry to say. They are so fun and it was cozy to hang with them in the cabin on Lake Edith. We parked the Airstream right outside the door and made ourselves comfortable. We would be happy to stay longer; it is so beautiful. The lake is glacier fed so it is that aqua blue color. I have seen elk, sheep and a coyote, but no bears yet. At night it is so dark you cannot see the ground you walk on. Elk are in mating season so there is a lot of bellowing or whatever it's called. I have to say I am a little fearful of the 50 steps from the cabin to the trailer for what could be lurking there.

Grant told us a story of how years ago he was unable to get out his front door for work because there were two huge elk in the yard. One charged at him hastening him back into the house where he phoned his boss with the worlds most improbable excuse for tardiness. Or, maybe not so improbable to a Canadian living in the Rockies. Now there's one good advantage to being a Canadian right there, eh?

She'll be Coming Round the Mountain Every Hour

After Flathead Lake we landed in Whitefish, Montana to a tiny campsite along Whitefish Lake. At seven miles long, this lake is tiny compared to Flathead, but more charming. This photo shows the view from the campground. The other is of the view from our bedroom in the Airstream.

It would be mini-nirvana but for one thing: the Great Northern Railway. The tracks run not some 100-feet from our campsite and a train runs practically every hour 24/7 bellowing its horn as it passes.

We will endure it one more night and then we're on the Glacier Park and Canada.

Follow the Salmon River

We woke up still exuberant about our previously fabulous day in Blaine County. We love this little piece of Idaho. So naturally, we couldn't wait to see more. We left beautiful Ketchum to take the scenic rode to Salmon, Idaho. And it was picture-perfect scenic. Every mile following along the Salmon River was breathtaking. The river is shallow so it's always rippling over the round rocks that make up its bed. I hung my head out the window like a dog lapping up the fresh air, trying to snap photos. I wished Robert could hang his head out too, but somebody had to drive. We should have just stopped and camped for the night, but the drive was so exhilarating we just kept going and going. Hours and hours. Not knowing any better I kept urging us on to Salmon like it was the Emerald City at the end of a long winding road. Was I wrong. So today, I added another new nugget to our travel wisdom bag: Don't pass up a good thing believing a better thing awaits you just a tad further down the road.

When we finally got to the town of Salmon we were met with two disappointments: The beauty of the drive suddenly dissolved into an unattractive town, and, there was a heavy smoky haze in the air. We wondered if it was smoke from the central Idaho fires just blowing up the state, but it only got worse as we kept driving. We asked someone about it and she shrugged, unconcerned. "We have fires all the time. Sometimes it's smoky. If you'd been here this morning you'd seen clear skies." Well, then.

We passed up North Fork as too claustrophobic with the dense forest and heavy fire smoke. If there is a fire nearby, we'd like a good vantage point to see it from and a quick route to escape. Suddenly we were climbing over the Bitterroot Mountains. The smoke was so thick that the sun turned red. Next thing we know, we're in Montana, (probably the ugliest entrance, too with all the burnt trees) and wondering where to find a campsite. This corner of Montana seems to be a center for logging and businesses related to the building trades. Also we noticed quite a few chiropractic offices tucked between the casinos. Logging has to be hard on the back.

So here we are in a campground south of Missoula I don't even know the name of. We pulled in at dusk and didn't bother to unhitch. We'll sleep, get up early and head north to Glacier Park, hopefully to clear skies.