Sleeping to the Sound of the Sea

 

My alternate title was, “After the Invasion” but who wants to relive that episode?  Certainly not me. 

Greetings from Crystal Cove State Park, an absolute gem in the (hit and miss) California State Park Campgrounds.   My first time camping here was in Salt, with Alan, Rosco and River, on the night we moved out of our “Movie Star” house in Laguna Beach and into our 19’ Airstream (2011).  The park had just opened and we were too exhausted from that incredibly busy day (weeks, really) to appreciate the view.  Having stayed here numerous times since, I have made up for it with countless hours of staring.

But let’s talk about my hasty leave-taking from Morro Bay State Park:  I had planned to stay there a full week but my last three nights were to be in the middle of that tent-filled encampment so there was no way that was going to happen.  Despite the exorbitant cost, I booked three nights at Flying Flags Avila Beach, a place I have stayed at many times to varying degrees of enjoyment—but I was desperate.

I found myself thinking, on the very short drive between the two, that I do recall times when camping at Morro Bay State Beach was not fun—for the same reasons as this time.  So why was I so unhappy and desperate to leave?  And this is the problem with living alone (might be the only one as far as I can see):  You lose the ability to adapt.  Because you never have to compromise or do something that you might not want to do, you forget how to adjust your mind, how to look for the good in something even if it is driving you crazy.

So it was attitude adjustment time.  

The weather continued to be warm and the beaches filled, so I knew that it was likely to be crowded at Flying Flags as well; I was just hoping that the pricing would keep a little class around and maybe I wouldn’t be treated to a parade of people in their flannel pajamas and slippers heading to the bathrooms each morning.  But above that, I concentrated on the fact that families were out having fun and kids were outside and not attached to an electronic device.  These are important things.  Valuable things.  I pledged to make the most of it.

And what did I get?  Two nights of absolute heaven:  Parked in the dry camping area with no one next to me, Beagle’s back door open to the sea, Opus and I sitting outside Beagle in the warm breeze just staring at the boats in the harbor, the porpoise, seals and otters.

Those few days were filled with long morning walks (of course), a quick stop at Kracken Coffee for a bacon date scone (holy lord almighty), pickleball or paddling, reading, swimming in the ocean, and falling asleep to the sound of waves crashing on the shore.  (A particular benefit of this RV park is that you can walk to Mersea’s at the end of the fishing pier and grab a Crab Louie Salad (twice) or grilled fish over steamed vegetables and rice (once).)  Ya, I haven’t opened a can of soup for days.

Trying to force myself into new experiences (to help me become more adaptable), I decided to launch my paddle board from the beach.  Usually I launch my board from a marina or dock where there are no waves breaking.  But I challenged myself and launched from the beach, pushing my board over the breaking waves and hopping on—I felt like a surfer! 

And what a treat it was to paddle in the ocean!  After the calm of Puget Sound and Morro Bay, to be on a board with the energy of the waves beneath you, out beyond the break, floating over the large swells—it was delightful!  Fortunately, it was cool enough to leave Opus in the Beagle—I didn’t want him out there in the waves and with the many, rowdy and loud seals.

Riding the waves back into shore I managed to hop off without a problem, dragging my board up to the dry sand and returning for a nice swim.   I lived in the area for three years and never swam in the ocean; it was always too cold.  But with El Nino, the water is warm enough for a good long swim.  (It helps to come out and lay on your hot paddleboard which has been soaking up the sun.)

My third night there a giant A-Class Bus Like Thing parked next to me—his slide outs actually touched my picnic table—so I was happy to leave.

I stopped for two nights in Santa Barbara but not at the Ant Farm.  I landed a spot at El Capitan State Park, another of my oldies but goodies, and it did not disappoint.  With my new attitude toward the (is that screaming or just laughter?) loud children and packed campground, I was happy.  My first spot was nestled in the eucalyptus trees with no one next to me, and the second night I moved up to #124; a spot I found years ago, way at the end of the campground.  There are only four spots back there and they are parallel to the ocean.  I parked so Beagle's front door opened to the sea.

And so here I am on the first night of my last week in California, happily ensconced in an end unit where Beagle’s door opens to a lovely view of the canyon and her back door opens to the ocean.  Seven more nights of sleeping to the sound of the sea.

-K

 

The Day I Didn't Love Camping

 

Greetings from Morro Bay State Park which, like my previous spot at Sun Outdoors Santa Barbara (which is actually in Goleta), used to be one of my favorite camping stops. 

Let’s go back a couple of nights:  I had a restless sleep, waking often thinking that something was crawling on me.  Finally, at 5 AM, I decided to just get up.  I turned on the light to make some coffee and there were ants everywhere.  And I mean EVERYWHERE:  Crawling up the walls, in my sink, inside my tea kettle, it was like a horror movie. 

I immediately began wetting paper towels and wreaking havoc on their lines.  Then I realized Lysol wipes would be better so began pulling them out and swiping as fast as I could.  Soon I was overtaking them and, after about an hour, I was down to seeing only a couple here and there.

That’s when I aired out my bed and discovered ten dead ants in my bed.  Turns out I was right about things crawling on me.  I was so disgusted I almost gagged.

Already disappointed with this stop which has gone from a quiet, elegant (rare in an RV park) stop to a zoo in the last year, I figured out where I could buy some ant bait and packed up Beagle as fast as I could.  That’s when I saw the trail:  From under a bush up my stabilizer and into Beagle; an ant superhighway.  I hosed it down and drove out of there as fast as I could.

Thirty minutes later I was placing the ant traps at strategic locations in Beagle; I had still only seen a couple here and there and figured the ant traps would gather them all in while I drove north.

At this point I decided I needed something fast to eat so I walked into a McDonalds where everyone was speaking Spanish, from the plentiful customers to the people taking the orders. 

This is my love/hate relationship with California.  For one, you can never get away from the sound of another human voice (although, I have to admit, blissfully, right now sitting in Beagle in the cool early morning I cannot hear another voice, ahh) and it is quickly turning into a Spanish speaking mini-country.  I remember living in Laguna Beach when a landscaper knocked on my door and, when I answered, began speaking in Spanish:

I replied, “I do not speak Spanish.”

With pity in his voice he said, “You do not speak Spanish but you live in California?”

I replied, “Parlez-vois Francais?”

That closed the conversation and my door.

But I digress…Having left Goleta so early, I was hours early for my check-in at Morro Bay State Park.  This is where having lived somewhere before comes in handy:  I knew just where to park Beagle so I could walk around the bay, enjoy the many otters, let Opus sniff out the squirrels and retire to Tognazini’s on the Dock for two delicious grilled shrimp tacos.

A delightful respite.

Time came to check in.  I drove through the campground to fill my fresh water tank and looked with growing dismay at the campsites:  It looked, and I’m not kidding, like a refugee camp.  Many pitches had multiple cars in them and every speck of dirt (and now it is all dirt owing to the drying out of California) was taken up with tents.  Laundry was strung between tent poles, Costco sized packages of paper towels were on every picnic table, I thought, “If my pitch is in the middle of this, I am leaving and driving directly to the nearest Four Seasons.”

And you know I would.

Fortunately, my good planning had paid off and I am in a pitch far at the end; I even have a couple of bushes around.

OK, it’s hot in California right now, unusually hot.  And I was hot unhitching Beagle, and disgusted with the state of the campground and all around just in a bad mood.  Then I opened Beagle’s door.

The bait traps were inundated with ants!  They were frantically racing around and coming out of every possible seam in Beagle’s floor and ceiling.

Back into the car, back to the hardware store, this time returning with a giant spray can of Terro Ant Killer. 

But I couldn’t just start spraying everything:  I didn’t want it on my clothes or dishes so first I emptied out Beagle:  Onto the dusty picnic table went all my bedding, my duffel of clothes, my towels and few food items.

Then I sprayed every inch of Beagle.  Inside the cupboards, under the bed, and along the ceiling.  Leashing up Opus, we went for a nice long walk as they all came out to die.

It took a few hours for Beagle to air out, then I washed everything down, lightly respraying along the seams because it says it lasts up to six weeks and washed and loaded everything back in.  All I can say is Ugh.

Thankfully that evening I got to spend a little time with my brother and family which did, in fact, make it all worthwhile.

I still have about two weeks left in California; I am ending it at one of my all-time favorite campgrounds of anywhere I have camped, Crystal Cove State Park, in Laguna Beach; I hope it remains an all-time favorite.

-K

PS:  The lead-in picture was taken in Goleta; yes, the waves are coming from both directions!  Opus and I discovered this delightful spot at the end of our wonderful beach tour day of Santa Barbara.  We walked onto the sandbar and enjoyed the water washing over our feet.  Well, one of us did.

PPS:  I haven’t seen an ant in two days!

Snow Canyon State Park

 

A place so delightful it earns its own post.  But first I have to get here…

It was a very short drive day, leaving from Quail Creek State Park; a mere twenty-nine miles.  It is amazing how much can go awry in such a short time.

The day started off weird anyway as Opus did not want to go on his morning walk and then became frantic to find grass to eat when we returned.  All grass-like growth around here is some form of foxtail so I could not indulge him.  His strange behavior continued in the car where normally he would jump into his kennel and I wouldn’t see him until I dragged him out.  But not yesterday; at every stop he would jump to the front with a wild look in his eye.  I stopped at two parks and walked him around but nothing changed.

Having lots of time between check-out and check-in, I decided to go to a self-service car wash and give both Liebchen and Beagle a nice wash.  I turned on the high-power spray nozzle to remove all the dirt and bugs then switched to the foaming brush.  And man was it foaming!  Gallons of hot pink (and I mean Hot Pink) suds frothed out of the brush faster than I could make use of them.  Going up the side of Beagle, brush high in the air, foam thrusting itself out of the brush, and Whoosh!  A gust of wind blew it all back into my face.  I had hot pink foam all over:  Head, shirt, shorts, legs.  Lovely.  But I thought, “Whatever, it’s just foam.” Not bothering to attempt to wash it off (what with, the high-powered rinse sprayer?), I rinsed Beagle and Liebchen and continued on my way.

I had also planned on stopping for some groceries but by mid-day it was too hot (again above 80) so I just continued into Snow Canyon, making my early arrival even earlier.  The very pleasant park attendant assured me no one was in my site the previous night so I was welcome to go park. 

It seems no one would be in it again that night:  In a maneuver very alien to me, I had booked a site that was not big enough for Beagle.  Making mistakes like that used to be easy to do as you never had any indication of the spot you were reserving (which is why, years ago, we would all just show up and drive around to pick out a spot, that does not work anymore; most parks are reservation only.) Now that everything is booked online, most parks do a great job showing you the campground layout and the width and depth of the pitch.  Snow Canyon is no exception. 

I was the exception this time; I guess I was just so thrilled to find a spot (having camped here at least twice before, it remains a favorite), I didn’t bother to look at the size; usually Beagle has no trouble fitting anywhere.

So I drove right by my spot and back to the registration office.  Same nice attendant, he actually apologized for the spot being so small wherein I assured him it was entirely my fault.  Folding my hands in front of me at the desk I saw that they were splattered in Hot Pink.  At first I thought they were oddly sunburned but then realized it was the car wash foam and, oh my god, it must be all over me.  This is what happens when you live alone; you can go a long time looking ridiculous.  I am sure Opus would have said something but, you know, he is color blind.

The only option they had was a spot in the group area which was currently vacant but ran the risk of having really close neighbors.  I could not wait to get back into Liebchen and find a mirror so I took the offer. 

Yep, Hot Pink splotches all over my face.  What is it with me and car washes?

Turns out this pitch is ideal; only one small camper joined me in the large area last night and they parked at the far end. 

The view out my front door this morning:

There was a huge rain storm last night which dropped the temperature into the 60’s this morning.  Opus and I could not wait to get out and hike!  (And he was back to his normal bouncy self.)

There is an asphalt hike/bike path than runs through the entire park and many dirt trails stem from it.   The rain had packed the deep sand down so walking was very pleasant on the trails and we happily headed into the canyon.

It’s not often you get to find your own path over giant rocks; most of the trail markers looked like this:

We climbed up a rock formation to sit still in the early morning sunshine and it dawned on me that tomorrow is my 61^st birthday; the brevity of our time on Earth hit me so suddenly tears fell down my cheeks.  It all goes so fast; this planet is so gorgeous.

Not long after returning from the hike, a heard, “Hello!  Anyone home?”  and stepped outside to see a lady approaching me with an odd smile on her face and her right hand held out, fist down, as she was holding something in it.  I could hear her dogs in the car so I assumed it was a treat for Opus.  Smiling, I held out my hand and in dropped a small plastic flamingo. 

“Consider yourself Flamingo’ed”, she said.

And I thought, “Fuck, is this some kind of a Mormon greeting ritual?”  But managed to say out loud, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”  Yep, from street gang to Queen Elizabeth in 1.5 seconds.

“It’s an Airstream thing!”, she replied, “’Streamers leave flamingos on other Airstreams, often without anyone seeing.”

I have had Beagle for nine years and have never been Flamingo’ed.  Didn’t even know it was a thing. 

Happy Birthday to Me.  I am, thankfully, just where I want to be.

-K

The Ever Changing Sky

 

Greetings reader from Highline Lake State Park in Western Colorado where, unbelievably, it will reach 82 degrees today—the 26^th of September.  We are here for two nights—a brief stop on the Zag portion of the Zig Zag Zig Tour.

It was with a heavy heart that I pulled out of the Denver area; ever since Alan and I camped there at the beginning of Salt & Pepper Adventures (2011) it has felt like home.  Just a natural place for me to be—and Alan too apparently, since we moved there upon our return from Europe, already a well-documented story.

Just a few weeks ago I wrote about Placid Lake State Park in Montana calling it camping nirvana; the stop in Denver was a nirvana of another kind.  I wrote about Chatfield State Park before so I’ll just add that fifteen nights there is not enough (although one more than you are technically allowed.)  The joy of paved roads, hot showers, laundry and a cement pitch was addictive and I added four nights to my original eleven. 

What I was less prepared for was the joy of being near dear friends and a city!  We are talking multiple trips to PetSmart, REI, Whole Foods and Taco Bell.  Over the course of the fifteen days, Liebchen was washed four times; once by Porsche where she had her 30,000 mile check-up.  Liebchen was sparkly clean for over two weeks!

Why so many washes?  Often during the afternoon and into the night, strong thunder and lightening storms would roll through bringing with them a pounding, soaking rain that made my morning walks an absolute delight of fresh smells but left Liebchen spotty.  The sky was rarely the same; always with a deep blue background but often with large white puffy clouds until, of course, the black clouds rolled in and the excitement began.  The ever-changing sky of delightful Colorado.

And Liebchen was beside herself with her check-up complete, six quarts of new oil pumped in, always bright and shiny, and two weeks of not pulling Beagle.  We flew around the city (55 MPH surface streets!) and up into the mountains visiting Evergreen and Guanella Pass.

So you can imagine my dread yesterday when, after 258 miles, I turned into the West Entrance of Highline State Park onto a gravel road; with a strong wind, dust was flying everywhere.  Immediately Liebchen and Beagle were filthy.  Thankfully the pitch itself is loose rock of varying colors (living up to Colorado’s knick-name of the “Colorful State”), so minimum dirt gets tracked inside.  After so many days on the clean cement pad, I was spoiled! 

I have to remind myself that I am always grumpy when I pull in somewhere and it’s over 80 degrees; I certainly was yesterday afternoon.  The dirt, the wide-open campground without a spec of shade other than the (really nice) shades they have over your picnic table.  Plus I missed Denver!   To top it off, I looked across the lake to an oasis of green leafy trees—the location of the other campground.  Sigh.

Hot and tired, I set to putting up the Moon Shade for some added protection from the beating sun and settled in with a nice, cold NA Blue Moon.  Attitude adjustment hour; I turned on my piano music therapy and I took a moment to appreciate the mountains in the distance and, much later, the gorgeous full moon.

All that moodiness was washed away this morning as I watch the sun rise over the lake before taking Opus off on our morning walk.  We headed toward the oasis on the eastern side intending to check out the other campground.  As we got close to the main beach, I heard some loud music and thought someone was waking up really happy, then we came around a corner and there was a huge blow-up arch and an MC who announced, “Good morning athletes!” 

Turns out it was a triathlon; never have I seen so many zero body fat bodies in one location.

We climbed to the top of a hill and watched the first leg of the swim—so impressive!  And the sound of all those swimmers splashing through the water was mesmerizing.  The thin line you see mid-way through the water are the swimmers:

Now that said swimmers have completed their first leg, Opus and I are headed off to paddle; it will not be vigorous—those of you who have paddled with me before know I love to lay down on my paddle board and drift—which explains my higher than zero body fat.

-K

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.