Changes in Longitude, Changes in Dogitude

 

To Stella:  A bright spot on Earth, now shining above.

Greetings from another of my favorite stops, Chatfield State Park, in Littleton, Colorado.  Camping here in years past I have enjoyed the long walking trails (miles and miles) and view of the reservoir; this year I enjoyed swimming, paddling and, in something I have NEVER seen in a campground, a bright, clean laundry room. 

I may never leave.

My previous trips to this part of the country must have been in late Fall or early Spring as, during preparation, I was very concerned about how cold the nights might get.  Beagle does a great job of keeping me warm running on propane, but if faced with multiple days of below freezing weather (when I would need to run my tank heaters as well), the batteries will only hold out for a few days—not even the bright Colorado sunshine on the solar panels would keep up.  So when I booked this site and noticed that it came with electricity, I thought, “That will be very useful for heating over my 10-day stay.”

Also in preparation, I bought Opus a fluffy deep-donut bed to help him keep warm at night—a bed he would have nothing to do with while on BI but that he would not get out of during our cold nights in Wyoming.  He slept in it all night which he has never done; usually opting to curl up behind my legs at some point.  But not anymore!

Driving down from Wyoming it became increasingly hot and dusty.  In the middle of a driving day I decided to enter a Truck Wash; maybe you have seen them advertised on the freeways, a friend of mine swears by the great job they do, especially with our shinny Airstreams.  I got in line. 

Out walked a young man and I explained that I had never done this before and he assured me that they do RV’s all the time.  Despite me being the sole non-semi in the line, I decided to give it a shot.  Well, actually, by then I had no choice as at least ten semi’s had lined up behind me so there was, literally, no going back.

He explained that they will motion me into the giant warehouse-looking bay and then I can get out and go into the office to pay and wait.  My turn came.  They motioned me in.  A mob of sprayer-wielding men descended upon us and one yelled, “You can come out now.”  I thought, “Can I?!”  It was like a cyclone of wet soapy water in there.  But I got out and managed to get Opus out, both of us getting soaked and Opus thinking, no doubt, that this was the worst dog wash ever.

It took me right back to the first time I took Liebchen through a car wash:  She was still new to me so you can imagine my surprise when, in the middle of the wash, I thought I pushed the button to fold in the rear view mirrors but instead hit the window down button.  Massive amounts of soap and water were flying in and the giant brush was smacking me in the face.  Now, if you have never had this pleasure, I can tell you, your first instinct is to protect your face with your hands, which I did, leaving behind the window button and thus allowing it to go all the way down.  The car moved quickly past the brush, and I hit that button again but automatic windows do not go up as fast as you would like in a situation like that. 

The heat continued into Colorado; it has been near or over 90 degrees my entire stay!   The electricity came in handy to run the A/C and the laundry room came in handy as I did not pack nearly enough short-sleeved t-shirts and shorts.  After sunset, it was delightful outside and Opus, who for years has chosen to be right next to me, took to laying outside Beagle late into the evening.

Some readers have asked what I eat on the road.  My diet has little variety:  I eat a lot of Amy’s Lentil Soup for dinner but with it being so hot, I bought a bag of carrots and some hummus and that has been my dinner most nights—until the last two nights when I have been down to plain toast:  I thought I had contacted food poisoning but since it lasted more than 24 hours, I think I have nailed it down to my hydration tablets.  As some of you know, I was in a couple of tennis tournaments down here and, with it so hot, I started to add a hydration supplement to my water.  Pretty sure that it caused my severe, shall we say, digestive issues.  The irony is not lost on me.

It is a gorgeous day here today with a cool breeze, bright blue sky and large puffy clouds.  I can see a storm cell moving in from the Rockies and it makes me miss living here.  The quintessential Colorado day—and perfect for a recovery day.  I am enjoying it at camp, with short walks with Opus, hydrating without tablets and now listening to the thunder and watching the lightning. It's about to pour!!  Oh how I love the rain on Beagle's roof.

To celebrate the rain, I think I’ll add some homemade blackberry jam to my lunch toast, wish me luck!

-K

Cool Mornings

 

Greetings from Gros Ventre Campground outside Grand Teton National Park, where the frosty cold mornings quickly turn into warm afternoons full of sunshine.  This is my first revisit campground on this trip and it remains one of my all-time favorites.  The pitch I have is perfect:  Beagle’s back window faces the gorgeous mountains across a sagebrush-filled meadow; no pitch across from me so the front windows look upon trees and, best of all, it is at the end of a row so Beagle’s front door opens to more meadow and towering mountains.  The view from my door:

The weather has been unbelievably gorgeous—actually hit 81 the day I pulled into town—today we woke to a chilly 32 degrees but it quickly warmed up to the ever-delightful 72.

Waking on my first morning, as I was rolling down Beagle’s blinds at dawn, I was startled to see a woman crouching not ten feet away from Beagle, aiming her high-powered camera lens toward the meadow.  I looked out the back window to see two moose grazing about twenty yards out.  A peacefull way to start a day that quickly turned into a wind extravaganza.

When I am in this area I like to hike as much as possible; however the prohibition against dogs in the National Park makes this challenging.  Consulting AllTrails, I started up Black Butte, which they have listed as “dog-friendly” and “rarely used”; it is within the park boundary so I was hoping the ‘rarely used’ descriptor carried more purchase than the incorrect ‘dog-friendly’ one.

There was one car at the trailhead as we started up the hillside.  There are plenty of bear warning signs around so I carried bear spray and noted, with joy, that the trail up the hillside meandered along the tree line instead of through it.  I am fine if I can see what’s coming.  Up and up and up we went, my non-altitude-adjusted lungs gasping and the ferocious wind hammering against us.  Since I don’t make a lot of noise (in general or when hiking) I decided to turn on Colorado Public Radio, hoping that the bears were not fans of Bach.

According to Garmin, we climbed 1000 feet (from 6500 to 7500) in ¾ of a mile.  Phew!  There was no break from the wind and it continued to roar so I sat at the top with my back to it, enjoying some hot coffee, a package of Belvita and a little Debussy.  It was magical listening to the music and watching the wind bend the trees as if they were conducting an orchestra.

From there I could see that the trail entered a treed area and, since I had still not seen another hiker, I decided to turn back; that high up is a great place for bears to hang out and I wouldn’t be able to see what was coming. 

Not nearly sated after only three miles, we headed to Cache Creek Trailhead which is definitely dog friendly, just two miles from downtown Jackson, and the start of many miles of trails.  We added two more miles along the creek and by the time we got back to Beagle we were pooped!

Needing a little bit of familiarity for my last day, we returned to Cache Creek this morning, starting our hike in a cool 42 degrees and ending it, 5.5 miles later, at 68.  A wonderful trail system, beautifully maintained and well signed.

But the coolest morning of all came a few days ago:  While preparing Beagle to leave Henry’s Lake State Park, I heard what I thought was an acoustic guitar and I thought, “How nice, one of my neighbors is playing lovely music this morning.”  But I knew something was up when I looked into the back of Liebchen and saw Opus sitting atop his travel crate gazing out the back window.  (He had happily jumped inside the crate after our nice long hike that morning, ready for his mid-morning nap.)

I followed his gaze and saw a young man sitting outside his travel van, dressed like the 70’s (complete with a bandana holding back his long, curly hair) with a large dome shaped item between his legs.  It appeared to be metal and he was playing it half like a drum and half like a piano.  It was soothing and mellow and lovely and very, very cool.

When he was done, I thanked him and Opus returned to the inside of his crate.

-K

PS:  The top photo was actually taken a few years ago on a prior trip…the mountains are much more beautiful in the Spring. 

How Do You Like Me Now?

 

OK, all I can say is I gave it my best shot:  I am just not meant to be domesticated.  It’s been two years since my last Beagle post and during that time I purchased a lovely home on Bainbridge Island and tried my best to sit still.  I even built a pottery studio—talk about sitting still!  I picked wild blackberries from my yard and made jam, I canned pint after pint of apples as they fell off my trees, I gorged on blueberries that grew in my little fruit orchard.  How much more domesticated could I be?

But this past summer I found myself becoming more and more unhappy; I didn’t feel like myself and, looking back now, I can see I had become depressed.  Despite being in the PNW during the summer (which I do enjoy), the burden of home-ownership and the feeling of being trapped on an island combined to make me claustrophobic and unhappy. 

And all this time Beagle was patiently waiting adjacent to my house.  I would hitch her up on occasion and take her for a drive which only served to enhance my feeling of living a lie; I belong in Beagle.  It hurt to lock her back up.

Then I realized that just because I own a house doesn’t mean I have to stay in it.  I considered getting back to spending one-third of my time in Beagle, but was that a good idea?  At some point, in advancing age, shouldn’t you welcome the familiar and the known?  Was I crazy? 

All it took was opening Google Maps; all that open space, all those places yet unseen.  I started planning a two-month journey through Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, Utah, Nevada, California & Arizona, a giant Z across the western states which would allow me to visit dear friends and family. 

I felt like Me again and received the bonus effect of suddenly realizing that my lovely BI home can just be looked at like a fantastic VRBO which I have for three to five months a year—during the glorious months of fruit harvesting and paddling on Puget Sound.

I already felt lighter.

Knowing that I wanted to visit the Grand Tetons, one of my favorite places on this entire planet, and end up in Colorado by the 10^th of September for two tennis tournaments with one of my favorite people on this entire planet, I had a bit of a time constraint.  So, oddly for me, I plotted the first four nights as one-night stops and learned that I love it.  The mileage per day was low—the longest was 280 and the shortest was 126 which allowed me plenty of time in the afternoon for a long walk and leisurely mornings of exploration, hiking and paddleboarding. (Two campgrounds I stayed in had a 1:00 PM checkout of which I took full advantage)

One such morning dawned in Salmon Lake State Park, Montana.   Having done the quick campground trail to the day use area, I packed up Opus and we set off in Lebchen (Wurzig’s replacement, still a Cayenne, of course), leaving Beagle behind.  And oh the joy of driving without the trailer after two rather long days on the road!   This day we found nirvana:  Placid Lake State Park in Montana.  It is worth breaking my rule of no gravel roads for Beagle (a mere two miles of it) to reach the park along the shores of the shimmering Placid Lake.  From the campground there are miles of trails and we Carpe Hikem’ed; parking Lebchen on the side of the road, to hike a couple of miles of the Lakeview Trail.  It will be a revisit next year.

It has been twelve years since I traveled through Montana in Salt with Alan (and the three dogs and five chickens) and I had forgotten how much I love that state.  It’s like Colorado with water and like Idaho without the guns and Jesus.   I will do this again next fall and plan on spending a lot more time there. 

Early on in the trip, like as soon as I was driving off the ferry in Seattle, I knew I had made the right decision.  I felt like me, I felt free and adventuresome.   On the fourth day of travel, driving south on the gorgeous Highway 287 in Montana, the Zac Brown Band’s “Free” song came on, I wanted to belt out the lyrics but since my aneurysm situation, I knew that doing so will bring about a screeching pain a few minutes later.  So I quietly sang along.  But then Toby Keith’s “How Do You Like Me Now” came on and I threw open the sunroof and sang along at the top of my lungs thinking about that woman back on BI who wondered if living this life was crazy.             

How do you like me now?  Now that I’m on my way?  Do you still think                I’m crazy standing here today?

Couldn’t have been more perfect.

Well, I could have done without the screeching pain.  But it was worth it.

***

PS:  If you are wondering how an atheist and confirmed bachelorette can stand listening to country music, it’s simple:  I substitute “kit” for “jesus” and think of Opus when the songs turn to love.