Marmots on the Mountain

June 30th. My neice, Christina's, 16th birthday. Happy birthday, crazy lady.

We set out at 12:30 in the afternoon for Mount Rainier. From the windows in our 5th floor apartment, the mountain looked clear and calm.

Our intended route to the national park entrance was the 705 to highway 7 south, a fairly direct path to the southern corridor leading straight to the Nisqually entrance to Washington's largest peak. We arrived at the park entrance after about 1 hour of driving at a modest clip along what seemed to be endless miles of car dealerships and taco huts.

The trip was punctuated by Mabel getting car sick, marmots whistling to the other nearby marmots signaling danger was afoot, and spotting some of the prettiest and surreal vistas of Mount Rainier.

Take a look at the slide show for the rest of the pictures.

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Lindsay and I are learning that traffic around these parts is enough to make a New Englander go mad. Today, for example, Lindsay and I decided we'd pull a fast one on rush hour traffic, and leave the cliff by 3pm. Surely we'd cruise home in no time flat. Think again, young granola cruncher. We steadily zipped down the Snoqualmie Highway thinking we were in the clear. Whew! We did it! Then BLAM-O!! Everyone and their mother decided it would be a good time to commute. Interstate 5 seemed to be awash with the entire Pacific Northwest commuting populous. I've heard before that the ratio of cars to people around the Seattle metropolitan area is roughly 1 car for every 2 people--Ridiculous!!Having sat in traffic the past few days, I can believe it. Although the traffic was tight and the fumes heavy, we did get some funny sightseeing. A sheepdog wearing Oakley sunglasses sitting in the front seat of a canary yellow H3 Hummer cruised by us, and a road enraged father driving a minivan and waving his hands wildly flew by us at mach 3.

We are certainly enjoying this area, but the traffic feels a bit like NJ...more later (sorry NJ friends and relatives.)

Road Trip--Part Deux

Jackson, Wyoming--Bend, Oregon (12 hours)
At this point, the battery in our digital camera died. We had no back-up cell, so the pictures we took we all mental...sorry folks.

When we started out of Jackson, the weather was clear and crisp. It was 39 degrees Fahrenheit, and snow still filled many of the hillsides abutting the mountain pass. It was slow going, but we managed to get to Idaho well before lunch. Geographically, we weren't in the nicest part of Idaho, but at least the roads were flat, open and fast. I think we averaged 75mph while making our way through the spud state.

Out of Idaho and into eastern Oregon. The road had been lonely for a long while, so when we saw the first bright orange sign that read "Wreck Ahead", we were a little bewildered. All came clear when a little further, we saw a blue SUV that looked like an accordian, then a hundred yards ahead of that, a tractor trailor flipped over on its side, hanging over the guardrail. The metal from the guardrail had been toorn away like the top of a tin can and was now stretched out across two lanes of traffic. We could do nothing but stare and hope that all passengers were safely removed from their vehicles.

Oregon became really boring. In fact, for roughly 200 miles we drove straight through what seemed like a good candidate for the most desolate part of the country. The high mountain plains of Oregon are characterized by dusty prairies, short pines, and long, flat horizons. Occasionally, you'd get a glimpse of the Sisters way off in the distance, but as soon as you'd see them, they'd disappear behind a distant hillside.

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We arrived in Alfalfa to out friends' home. Alfalfa is this beautiful little pocket of farmland attached to Bend, Oregon. No town center, no zipcode. Maybe 300 people. We loved it.

Mabel was greated by their dogs, Jackson and Lulu. She was instantly put in her place, and then the playful fighting began. Jim and Jessie gave us a tour of their quaint little farm named "Big Star Farm". We were totally impressed and inspired by what all of their hard work had yielded. We met their farm animals, and Lindsay was taken to rather quickly by a young horse, and Mabel also received a reminder of what it was like to be chased by horses.

Our stop there was much needed, and Jim and Jessie were more than hospitable with their accomodations: They always are, that's why we love 'em so much. We had some dinner, a few adult beverages, then we sacked out after trying to watch the moon rise (to no avail, as it was behind the clouds). The next morning we were to drive our final leg into Washington.

Bend, Oregon--Tacoma, Washington (5.5 hours)
The following morning, we awoke, had some eggs, bacon, and toast, said our "good-byes" and were on our way. Out of Bend on highway 99, up to Mount Hood, over the mountain pass, then down into the sprawl of Portland. We eventually found our way out to I-5 North, the final road of our journey. From there, we were in Washington within 2 hours, then on into Tacoma by rush hour.

We quickly learned that city planning in Tacoma was fractured. The streets begin and end with no apparent, thought out schema, leaving us utterly confused. After multiple trips up and down numerous streets named for local volcanoes, we eventually arrived at Bayside Gardens, our new home away from home for the next 3 months. Now, what we didn't realize was that this place is a dog-owners paradise. Upon arrival, we were greeted by a band of no less than 10 dogs. They must've smelled Mabel and probably were curious as to who this new doggie was. She was mortified, and instantly jumped back into the car all the while barking uncontrollably. It didn't take her long, though, to figure out the pecking order of things. Kona and Diesel were the officials of the pack, Lula was the playful one who likes to steal toys, the two French Bulldogs are the two-dog wrecking crew that liked to double-team the larger dogs, and Hanity, our neighbor's black lab, she's a quiet, so Mabel likes to bark into her ear loudly.

Now, only a week into our stay we've met some great folks. I've dubbed this place Melrose Place...drama, a lot of 30 somethings, sunshine, and various characters. The apartment managers are a funny little elderly duo who regularly offer us Cilantro and rhubarb from their miniature window box garden.

Traveling Across the Country--Part 1

Biddeford, ME--Erie, PA (16 hours)

If driving across the country wasn't enough of a prospect, how about driving east from Vermont to Maine, then turning right around and heading west?! Right-O...that is exactly how Lindsay and I began our journey west.

There isn't much to report about this leg of the journey. Oh, maybe the rain, the dreariness of central New York, and the depressing flatness of Erie, could evoke a few minor explitives and/or disgruntled shrugs, but there really wasn't much. When we reached Erie, we did stay in our one and only hotel for the trips duration--a dog-friendly Best Western that was so overpriced, we swore we were staying in a luxury suite overlooking Central Park. What was kind of funny though was the dog show that was scheduled for the following day in downtown Erie. We woke up to perfectly primped poodles, terriers, and what-have-yous prancing around the side door of the hotel. Mabel's feathers were ruffled.

Erie, PA--Chicago, IL (9.5 hours)
Off we go again. By now, I think we had just about had enough of the mid-Atlantic. We quickly got PA behind us, and in under an hour we were enjoying I-90 through Ohio (rain, and a lot of it!). Lindsay slept most of the way through this and the following state (Indiana--go Hoosiers!!), but woke up in Illinois to a tractor trailor blowing out one of its rear tires. Boring, I'm telling you. Once we hit Chicago, we paid our final astronomically-high toll, and slipped rapidly over the bridge into the city.

Once there, we were warned by our friend of a street fair going on throughout the neighborhood he lived in. To add our already bug-eyed shock of big city gawk, we now had to navigate pedestrians and blocked streets. It ended up not being all that traumatic, in fact, we found our buddy's apartment building in no time and herded Mabel right inside and into the safety of his apartment.

What we thought was going to a tricky little endeavor turned out to be pretty fun. Apparently, downtown Chicago is pretty pet-friendly, so we were able to find a Mexican restaurant with outside seating that also accomodated the young ruffian, Mabel. While there, she nearly ate a miniature poodle, but in all her performance was that of a solid "B" student. Not bad for being thrown to the fire after being in the car for over 20 hours.

Chicago also has beaches. It is on one of the great lakes, but it is still so strange and somewhat surreal like a scene from a Ray Bradbury novel. Prior to this trip our only experience with beaches has been at beach towns where the tallest building abutting the ocean beach was a 3 story motel, NOT a 15 story highrise. Mabel ate sand and water, but we are happy to report there were no sand castles.

Chicago, IL--Sioux Falls, SD (11 hours)
Back on the road. Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, all of these states offer mile after mile of straight and bleak roadways spanning endless asphalt along the I-90 corridor through the northern Midwest. Farm land, vast horizons, large trucks, minivans with children strapped to passenger seats playing video games and watching movies on televisions built into seats. This is middle America, and we wanted to forget about it as soon as we passed through it. I think this is where Lindsay and I started to act a little weird too, and Mabel began to notice something was strange with her parents.

One thing of interest was Castle Rock in Wisconsin. Out of the shrub-covered plains of milk country sprouted these strange pinnacles of soft sandstone. Lindsay and I both thought, "Hell, let's climb these!" But we soon found out that it was nothing more than choss (climber lingo for loss, dangerous, and otherwise unappetizing rock) that appeared to be solid.

It was also around this time that Lindsay began to wear her pajamas...all day long.

We arrived that evening to Sioux Falls, SD to a rally car race across the street from our campground and a barking dog with styrofoam-using, car camping owners to our left. We ate and quickly went to sleep.

The following morning was the first morning that it was truly cold out. Where the hell were our hats and gloves? Didn't know, didn't care, just eager to get motoring. By this time is was June 16th, and we were on schedule. Next stop, Eastern Wyoming...

Sioux Falls, SD--somewhere in Eastern Wyoming (15 hours)
With the windy city behind us, a great portion of the monotonous driving to our east and mountains somewhere to our west, Lindsay and I were revitalized and jazzed to get back on I-90 and push the speedometer back up to 80 mph again. She took the first leg of the driving, getting us to the 1880 Town--a put together old west town using original buildings and original artifacts from that time period. I thought it was going to be a tourist trap, but it wasn't. Replete with the "Dances with Wolves Museum" (a good portion of the movie was filmed on the plains surrounding this town), and original photographs of General Custer, Doc Holiday, and Theodore Roosevelt, I was in educator's heaven.

The walk through the town was quick, but you can see the remainder of our pictures on the slide show at the end.

We then headed for the Badlands, then Custer State Park (the Needles climbing area!!), and Mount Rushmore (overrated, but scenic nonetheless). Both Lindsay and I were shocked that the National Park Service allowed Tourons to hike all over the petrified mud towers in the Badlands. Granted, many of them are very low angle, but quite a few rise to dizzying heights with a fair bit of vertical ground to the summit.

After a quick drive thru of the Badlands, we set our sights on the Needles--a section of Custer State Park that is home to bowling pin-shaped spires of exfoliating granite. We were approached by a young, newly-married couple, asking if we'd seen a Brit named Richard. We thought they were talking about the famed British climber, Richard Heap, but they weren't. Nevertheless, they showed a great 3-pitch route up Aquarium Rock. It was climbed in the 50s at a traditional grade of 5.3--now I think it clocks in closer to 5.6. (The route was not very well protected at all...I think we used a total of 6 or 7 pieces of gear for the route, 2 of which were slung chickenheads. However, I think that was about par for any route in the Needles.)

Eastern Wyoming--Jackson, Wy (15 hours)
I'm not going to speak much about this beautiful part of the country. Instead, I'm going to say a few words, then let the slideshow take you on the leg of this journey.

Bison galore, mating burros, geysers, large predatory beasts, small foraging animals and bumper to bumper traffic. This is what Yellowstone was--Grand and glorious, humbling and humorous, the dichotomy of the natural world and American commercialism.

End of part 1...

A Mile A Minute

I can only imagine the thoughts going through Lindsay's mind right now. And I can't really imagine many thoughts are going through young Mabel's mind right now either...oh, maybe there are a few things like, "What is that tasty smell", or "Where is mommy?" Perhaps Mabes is even postulating, "When is this dang trip mommy and daddy are talking so much about going to start?...I want to smell some new smells!!"

Well, I can't help but think tonight, like the past few nights, is going to be a restless night. Lindsay's mind is probably moving at a mile a minute, and I can only imagine the borage of ideas, questions and suggestions I'm going to be dealt when I see her tomorrow for the first time in 2 weeks. There is nothing else is this crazy world that is most vital to me than the steady, youthful vigor pouring from Lindsay.

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The car is packed to the gills. Not much will fit in it...a bike will fit on top, and perhaps a few pairs of running shoes will find their way into the recesses of the car's remaining nooks and crannies, but not much else.


Tomorrow we leave for our first trip across the country together. 7 days in the car, and the weather report is calling for semi-amicable conditions, and luckily NOT the Hammer-of-Thor deluge promised then delivered to us earlier this week. We love Vermont and for the next year it will slip quietly into the role as a place we look back on through the window of our warm minds and contemplate.

Glorified and Bohemian

The little things are what slow you down the most when packing. Every time I think I am getting closer to the bottom of the pile, there seems to be a few more things here, a couple of trinkets over there...what I would give to be able to snap my fingers and have things instantly in order and boxed neatly in my car ready for departure.

I was thinking late yesterday afternoon about how long a year really isn't. Think about it: So far, Lindsay and I have spent roughly a month cleaning up our home, preparing it for our tenants and our trip. A year is only 12 months...we've spent a 12th of that time preparing ourselves to live a simple life for the next year.

Now that our home is packed up, and Lindsay is finishing up her final shifts in Portland, ME, I am left couch-surfing. As glorified, and bohemian as that sounds, it makes me feel no more than a dirty vagrant. I suspect that feeling will subside the more we move from town to town and city to city.

packaged

Today, like many other days recently, our world became increasingly more consensed and less spread out. More boxes went into storage, and a few more things were given away or sold. Knowing that over the next 12 months, both of our worldly possessions will be totally packaged and, for the most part, will be within a short reach is a crazy thought. Everything neatly organized. The bare essentials of our kitchen--one Tupperware bin and a cooler; our bedroom--one Tupperware and a bag; Bathroom?--you guessed it, a small plastic bin and couple small shaving kits. Shoes--a ratty old duffle bag.

We will be a compact unit of essentials and resources. As the days clip past, and the snapshots of a new world begin to fill the volumes of our daily ins and outs. sharing little discoveries and the colorful intricacies of a different life will, most assuredly, give us a fresh perspective on life and the way it should be lived.

(I also heard Mabel's been up to no good at her grandmother's house...go figure.)

B.C.

Mabel has also been an integral component to our packing team. She not only inspected the vaccuum cleaner regularly, but she makes sure we all take advantage of downtime and fill it with play and shenanigans. I don't know what she is doing in this picture, but I guarantee you that she is thinking how pretty she looks. Here are a few pictures documenting the life and mischeivous times of the dog we've dubbed "Bad Choices", or "B.C.":

If you look closely, you can see the miniature pitchfork under her paw...

Mabel wanting so badly to get along with the neighbor's cat...

Can't hide with ears that large!!

Cleaning House

T-minus 12 days.

If it weren't for the next exciting chapter of our lives waiting less than two weeks away, I think Lindsay and I would be hatin' the hours of cleaning and packing we've jumped into over the past few days. It's been nutso around here. But, as we've found with all big projects, there IS, in fact, a brilliant light at the end of the tunnel.

Our intended route across the country is planned. I-90, which streaks across Illinois, South Dakota, Wyoming into Montana, Idaho, then clear across Washington, is it. We plan on bee-lining it from Maine to Chicago in one long day, possibly taking about 17 hours to drive. Luckily, our good friend, Jim, will have a warm place for us to sleep in. From there, we haven't exactly decided upon our next stop off: Either Devil's Tower in Wyoming or Spearfish Canyon/Custer State Park in South Dakota...you'll her more later about our second leg of the journey.

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It is pretty sad bidding a "farewell" to friends. We'll miss everyone for the next year, but we'll also be spending time with other friends we haven't been able to see in quite a while or frequently. Most of all, though, Lindsay and I will be spending time with one another. After a very long 7 months of being in separate places in neighboring states, we'll finally be co-habitating under the same roof again. I woke up this morning and, again, smiled....not because Mabel was weaseling her way onto the bed, or because the sun was shining in our bedroom window, but because Lindsay was lying there, sound alseep next to me.