I intended this blog to be much more about food & cooking – and it will be, it will be! It’s just that these national parks are so stunning I’m compelled to write about them here.
There aren’t enough adjectives to describe the beauty of Banff and Lake Louise. Everything was “er” – the mountains seemed higher, the rocks craggier, lakes bluer, wildlife easier to spot. Continue reading
Limited Internet makes keeping this current a bit challenging! The past four days we’ve been in Glacier National Park, hiking and gawking and trying to stay dry. It’s been stormy, with the steep mountains draped in clouds and rain every night. Many of the trails are still closed due to snow. Still, wildflowers are abundant as if a careless gardener threw open packets of seeds all along the roadways and valleys. Continue reading
All night long the thunder cracked and ricocheted down the rocky walls of the Owyhee River Canyon, rain pelting the roof of the Minnie just a foot above our heads in our sleeping loft. Between flashes of lightning, the full moon peeked out through cloud breaks, washing the sagebrush and willows in pale blue light. It was not a restful night, but thrilling to hear the storm crash over us. We slept late and woke to clear skies and a warm breeze. We bumped over the short sandy track up to the main road, and drove out of the red-walled ravine into farmland.
For dinner tonight we indulged in my sentimentality and went to The Red Grape, the place where all of this began. Where, on our very first date we talked so long they started to put the chairs up all around us. The Red Grape, on First St West in Sonoma, a local’s spot for casual pizza and pasta, just down the very same street where we found our first home together.
Where will you go?
It’s the question we hear most often. Where? Where will you stop? Where will you choose? Where will you pass by? A year seems like such a long, lazy, empty-but-for-possibility amount of time. Yet when we begin marking points on a map, measuring the miles against our ability to be cooped up in the rig together, it is quite clear there is not enough time to see all we desire.
So, we’re each making lists of our must-see places and things to do, and trying to find the best way (and best time of the year) to see each one. Our hope is to plan as we go, taking advantage of advice we hear on the road.
Me: Yellowstone, New Orleans, The Grand Canyon, volunteering on an organic farm
Patrick: Southern Utah, Colorado, see some real Midwest thunderstorms
List-making and daydreams take up increasing amounts of my time. Whatever I’m doing, there’s the quiet thrill of knowing I’m leaving. Everything is short-term.
She’s a 2004 Winnebago, 22 feet from bumper to bike rack, equipped with a Queen size bed, two showers (indoor and outdoor), a dinette, sleeper sofa and a three-burner propane stove. She has everything we need, which is important, since she’ll be our home for the next year. Beginning in July, Patrick and I are heading out across the country for small-time adventures and lot (and lots) of meals on the road.
We are awfully excited.
Up Overlook Trail just outside of town on First St West, Sonoma, this May day feels like summer. A week ago the trail was muddy, now the red dust rises in puffs and the light in the meadow wavers in the sun. Seed heads are turning brown. I see a pair of titmice, an orange-bellied snake, and a dozen lizards who race down the trail then freeze, testing their camouflage. The Manzanita vibrates with cicadas, but the creaking buzz stops when I walk by. They’re testing their instruments, sliding their bows against un-tuned violins, too shy to keep up the song if there’s an audience.That’s how a writing project feels after so much time – stiff, squeaking, testing the same old words again, again, again.
Propane Kitchen 