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

CA Streamin' The Final Act: From Streamin to Screamin

 

Monday morning, waking to the sound of rain on Beagle’s roof yet again, I glanced out the window to low lying fog and lowered my gaze to the muddy pitch.  Despite four days of mostly rain, the weather report promised yet another “Atmospheric River” beginning on Tuesday—and warnings of evacuations along the Central Coast.

              “Opus, we are out of here!,” I yelled.

OK, I didn’t yell, I used my ‘let’s make this fun’ voice as I layered on my raincoat and prepared to walk Opus in yet another California downpour.

You may recall that I cancelled my San Simeon State Park reservation because the rain was coming and I didn’t want to camp on dirt.  So I paid another astronomical amount of money per night for the brand new and fancy Flying Flags RV Park in Avila Beach.  A full hook-up spot with a view of the ocean. 

At their prices I assumed I didn’t have to ask about parking on dirt.

You know what they say about assuming, but there is only one ass in this situation.

Imagine my disbelief and dismay when I pulled up to Site 44 and began to back Beagle into place on dirt (ok, it was fine crushed rock, not dirt but it was still muddy and sticky.)  I was careful to align Beagle so when I first stepped out her door, I could land on the cement patio.  But every time I walked Opus or got in or out of the car, it was a squish-fest of wet, sticky pale pink mud.   Have I said sticky enough?  That stuff was everywhere. 

However soggy, I was glad to have the four nights there as it allowed me time with family but with more rain coming, I cancelled all other reservations for California (including a ski trip to Tahoe—there was no way I was taking Beagle up there again) and hit the road.  All I knew was that it was sunny in the desert and there was nothing but rain and snow all the way up California.  So desert it was!

Luckily I have even more family in Las Vegas so I stopped there one night before heading to this lovely spot you find me in now:

Sand Hollow State Park in Hurricane, Utah—if you want to sound like a local you have to say “Her-Kin.”

With a severe thundershower rolling in, traffic was edgy coming up from Vegas with everyone trying to reach their destination before the heavy rain reached us.  At one point, a dump truck passed me, and when he pulled back in front, Wham!  Rocks came flying out; a couple of them pinging off Wurzig (who already has a small crack following those heavily “sanded” snow roads on the way down.)  Thankfully no new pits in Wurzig’s glass.

Pulling up to the registration booth, I noticed that the lady was looking at me with something like pity.  Does she pity me because I am alone?  It was odd…pity with a bit of a wry smile like, “What can you do, eh?”   Anyway, I happily thanked her and headed to my pitch.  After parking and unhitching Beagle, I stepped inside to make a sandwich and realized the glazed look on Beagle’s front window was not rain.

That dump truck!

Thankfully only a couple of small holes were in the glass although, clearly, the rest was shattered.  But still holding up!  Can you imagine?  If it had all caved in, I would have had a mess of glass and rain and, let’s face it, tears.  As it was, I knew I needed to get something over those holes and the major cracks before the skies really opened up so duct tape it was.  We made it through the heavy rain and the morning dawned without a cloud in the sky.

Did this make me rush home?  Nope.  I had one more day of vacation built in and I was going to use it; this morning Opus and I hiked Quail Creek Lookout at the nearly adjacent Quail Creek Reservoir (some of you may have read my rave reviews of that campground before…these two parks are great but Sand Hollow is definitely for OHV’s—they are everywhere including along the shoreline—whereas Quail Creek is much more suited for quiet fishing, hiking and paddleboarding.)

 

All hope of paddle-boarding was quashed when the wind picked up during our return; gusts strong enough to almost knock me off my feet were not something I wanted to take on while standing on a floating board.  So we returned to Beagle, applied Flex Seal to the small holes and cracks in the window and then covered her up for our seven hundred mile trip home.  Dividing the travel in half, I’ll stop tomorrow night in Antelope Island State Park before making it home on Saturday.

So draws the end of California Streamin’ 2023.  Not nearly what I imagined but a great lesson in enjoying where you are at right now.

-K

PS:  For my camping buddies:  There are three campgrounds in Sand Hollow all quite aptly named:  Westside (where Beagle is) is paved with full hook-ups but does not have views of the reservoir; Sand Pit which is gravel and suited for people who love large packs of people with easy access to OHV trails (not sure of the hook-up situation); and Lakeside which is paved, peaceful and delightful.  There is also primitive camping at the end of a dirt road.

The Gift of Knowing It Is the Last Time

 

Greetings, Dear Reader, from Beagle’s northern base, Boise, Idaho.  Yes, it’s been a long time and I have been remiss in that I have, in fact, had the Beagle out at least twice without so much as a hint to you.  I would apologize but the truth is there was very little to say so you should really thank me for not boring you to death.

However, this topic, the gift of knowing it is the last time to experience something, has been rolling around my head for many months. 

Have you noticed that in life there are moments when you can feel the last time coming for years, or maybe just hours or, on occasion, with startling immediacy?  The shorter the time of realization, the more difficult it is to appreciate the gift of knowing it is, indeed, the last time.

In the course of the last couple of Beagle trips, I have covered all three and, am happy to report, that I took notice that it was the last time and appreciated it for everything a last time should be:  The gift of having that time with someone or something knowing you will not have it again, maybe forever, maybe for some period of time you cannot measure, and maybe just for the season.  It makes you utilize all your senses in an attempt to gather as much information as possible so you can carry that love despite the lack of its physical presence.

For the last few years, I have known River was getting close to the end of her time on Earth.  I know I have blogged about her death before, but it is worth repeating with the emphasis on the fact that I knew the last time with her was coming for over a year.  And so I took the time to give her extra huggers and to tell her what a good dog she was and try to love her as much as she needed (which, for those of you who knew River, was never enough.)  I knew the end was coming and when it came, I was glad that I had appreciated the last times with her; it made it easier to accept that it was the last time forever. 

Then there was the day when the last time struck me one bright, sunny morning camping on the shores of a lake in Utah; I didn’t see it coming but when it did, it felt right and I knew I had only a few hours.  A few hours to be able to tell someone how much I appreciated having them in my life; how they made me a better person; and how, suddenly, now, it is time to walk away.  The last hug for time immeasurable.

A few weeks after that, camping on Antelope Island, again in Utah, waking up to a toasty Beagle but everything outside frozen solid (it was 10 degrees when I woke up), I realized it was the last time for Beagle winter camping.  This was a sad realization for me as I had planned on taking Beagle up to McCall skiing at least once a month for a week each time through the winter.  But I found, like when it is over 100 degrees, camping in extremes is not my thing.  So my last night heading back home, I laid in Beagle and savored her smells, the hard bed, the puffy, warm comforter, the encapsulating and safe feeling of having everything you need all around you all the time.  The last night in Beagle for the season.

And so Beagle is parked in her indoor garage, taking a break.  I was just out to see her yesterday and, after opening her back door, I leaned over and hugged her cushions.  I miss her so!  But have no fear, if this cold, grey Boise weather sticks around, she’ll be packed up soon enough and heading south.

-K

PS:  The photo above was taken on the last Beagle trip at a lovely reservoir in southern Utah.  

Scotch on the Rocks, Paper Cup

 

Dedicated to TT who is considering more time on the road; it is not always easy and fun.

Greetings from Beagle’s southern base camp in Morro Bay.  I believe I left you at the Hitch N Post RV Park in Panguitch, Utah, where Beagle was being tossed around in 30 MPH winds and trying not to freeze during the fifteen-degree nights. 

Opus and I were huddled inside, the heater had been running constantly for forty-eight hours (and only set at forty-five degrees!) and the only thing I was happy about was being plugged in.  I was miserable; first and foremost, tired from very little sleep the night before (remember me Googling error codes at three o'clock in the morning?), grumpy because it was so cold outside I was spending many, many hours inside Beagle, and running on very little sleep.  Yes, it needs to be repeated; those of you who know me know that Tired Kit should just be left alone—especially by Any Other Kit.

And so, when a picture arrived into my Messages app, a picture that made me want to put on The Purple Dress of Devastation and strappy heels, slide on top of a tall bar stool and allow someone to buy me a dirty martini, my first inclination was to reply with, “Fuck you.”  (Sorry Mom.)  But I managed something more charming, I’m sure.

And then, when CH replied to my battery update with a teasing, “You need heated batteries”, intending to be funny because he knows I have been waiting for an appointment with him for just such an upgrade, my first inclination was to suggest he meet up with the person from paragraph three and fuck each other (sorry Mom.)  But I managed something more charming, I’m sure.

At that point I put my phone on Do Not Disturb (because, clearly, the only thing coming out of my mind was going to be that lovely four-letter word [better, Mom?]) and relied on my meditation training to comfort me:  Yes, my situation was less than ideal, but it was My situation, My life, and I welcome all experiences.  Embrace Misery, welcome it, it is the only way you will know Joy.  Deep breath.

And then my phone rang and it was Roomie, one of the few people whose call will break through my Do Not Disturb.  She and her real roomie listened while I complained, set me to laughing, and then we planned our Alaskan adventure.  Life turns on a dime.

The next day dawned sunny and frigid so I bundled up, sent a package on its way knowing it was going to bring joy (one of the greatest feelings on Earth), and headed out for a hike.  Opus and I didn’t see a single soul as we hiked through Red Canyon (a wonderful dog-friendly option given that they are not allowed on most trails in Bryce Canyon) and he enjoyed spazzing out, off leash, in the snow, trying to get me to chase him.

That afternoon I returned to Bryce to see more sites, barely surviving the cold long enough to take some pictures.

The following day I hit the slopes at Brian Head, something I had not done for five years.  Talk about joy!  Sparkling packed powder, bright blue sky, and no lines at the lifts.  After countless runs, I was flying down an intermediate run thinking I was hot shit and decided that should be my last run:  Thinking you are hot shit is always the prelude to a major wipe out.

Saturday was going to be a long drive day, having to leave from Panguitch, pick up River in Las Vegas and try to make it to Barstow, so I decided to treat myself to a night where it all started two weeks earlier, at the Hampton Inn.  I knew there was RV parking and, obviously, it was pet friendly. 

Tired and very road-weary upon arrival, I fed and walked the dogs and moved them into the hotel room, pausing to grab a cup (this being a Hampton Inn, it was paper), and returned to Beagle to make a sandwich for dinner.  I plunked two ice cubes into the cup and poured a hefty helping of scotch, carrying my reward back to the room where my two well-traveled and delightful dogs were sleeping patiently by the door.

I mention their good behavior because at ten o’clock the dog across the hall began to bark.  It was clearly a large dog and vicious so on top of it keeping me awake it also sent my heart racing with irrational fear.  I called the front desk, she said she would try and reach the owners, then she heard the bark and said, “Oh my god, that’s terrifying, I am so sorry.” 

After ninety minutes of blood-curdling barking, I called her again.  She sounded like she was going to cry; by then many other guests had complained and she was not getting an answer from the owners.  There was no use getting upset with her or the hotel.  I got dressed, leashed the dogs, walked out to the dark parking lot and slept in Beagle.

And so you see, TT, times can be trying on the road even when you think you have set yourself up for a treat.  But as long as you have your dogs and your rolling home, it is always worth it.  

And scotch.

-K

Peanut M&Ms Before Noon

 

Greetings from Panguitch, Utah, where Opus and I are riding out below-freezing temperatures and a probable snow storm on Day 10 of Beagle’s Winter Adventure. 

The original trip was going to be just four nights at Red Rock Canyon Campground outside of Las Vegas, and three nights out of Beagle, at the ultra-comfortable Chez C&K, to prepare for- and watch the Superbowl before returning home.  But plans change.

Red Rock Canyon Campground turned out to be a delightful winter stop, a BLM campground surrounded by slightly elevated and challenging hikes.  Opus and I hiked thirteen miles in three days, including a leg-buster up Turtlehead Peak which started at 4,000’ and climbed to over 6,000’ in a mere two miles.  It was grueling with plenty of places where I had to dig my fingers into the rock in order to hoist myself up and over.  (Opus, off leash for those spots, bounded up and down and up and down multiple times.)  The view from the top is not what I am used to from the Sierras (spoiled), so I just enjoyed the fact that I made it.  This was taken along the way up...

Then the aforementioned three nights at Chez C&K, where I placed my first “prop” bets, reveled in a Van Gogh immersion, and enjoyed time with family.  After losing all my bets on the Superbowl, the ski slopes were calling me and, since I was so close to Brian Head, Utah, I thought about heading that way.  When C&K graciously offered to keep River, the trip became certain and even expanded –I had been worried about her arthritis in the freezing weather.  Plus, after three days at Chez C&K, she started to follow C around rather than me.  Terriers!

Excuse me for a minute while I watch the snow fall outside and change into my cashmere lounging sweater. 

Ahh, lovely.

Leaving Las Vegas, at the recommendation of a friend, I spent my first night at Snow Canyon State Park, just outside of St. George, Utah.  A lovely place with miles of trails (the most interesting of which are not dog friendly) and a strange campground.  I had booked Site #3, I think because it was the only one available, at least I hope that’s what the reason was because the site was horrendous.  Horrendous!  It sat so close to Site #4, it was worse than an RV park. 

So, firing up the Kitness, I ventured into the office to see about changing pitches.  The charming man behind the counter was eager to help and moved me to the much-preferred Site #25, the only neighbors being sage brush, red rocks and a couple of squirrels.  When Mr. Charming ended with a wink and, “I am in Site 18 if you should need anything at all...anything at all”, I thought maybe the Kitness was set a little too high.

We hiked that afternoon and again in the morning before starting the short-mileage but long-duration drive to North Campground in Bryce Canyon National Park.   We were heading into elevation over 7,000’, with nights down in the teens and, scariest of all, the rookie mistake of not arriving before 3:00 PM to a first come campground.  With first come sites, it’s best to be there around 12:01; three o’clock was foolish.  I was feeling nervous; I have my new batteries but they get squirrely when the temperature drops below 25, plus the late arrival, plus the altitude…I did what any self-respecting person would do, I phoned a friend—one on whom I can always count to place a vote for adventure and provide some good, logical advice.

That conversation was no different; I left it feeling excited and brave and ready for anything.

Arriving at North Campground a little after three o’clock, I was fortunate to have my pick of about ten pitches.  I chose Site #6, up on a hill (my favorite) with lots of sun shining down on my solar panels--which I knew my batteries would need were I to survive more than one night.

Unhitched, site registered, and Opus walked (I did break the rules and let him run off leash in the snow for a bit—dogs just love that so much), I drove out to some of the look-outs and gazed in wonder at the scene.  Pictures do not do it justice and I cannot believe I have never spent any time here before.  It being winter, there were very few people and I marveled at the crowd-control devices in place for the more popular overlooks (one-way walks, etc.); thankful that I was not visiting during the high season.

But what a first night!  My heater turned on at 5:00 PM when I entered Beagle and did not stop running (despite being set at only 40) all night long.  Well, no, it did stop at 3:30 AM when I discovered the system had turned itself off and was flashing an error code.  Did I mention it was 3:30 AM?  And around ten degrees outside?  With the thought that Beagle’s pipes could freeze in about ten minutes, I frantically Googled the error message and, after a couple of clicks, learned that the system had over-heated and needed to cool.  So I let it do it’s thing and after about fifteen minutes, it righted itself and started pumping out the heat again.

I did not get much sleep.

In the morning, my lovely lithium batteries had only lost 20% but were down to 50% (having started at 70% in case you didn’t want to do the math.)  I knew without a lot of solar generation, I would not make a second night but the day dawned bright and sunny so I left the solar charging, layered up, and headed out for a morning walk with Opus.  And what a delightful morning walk that was!  From the campground to Sunrise Point and over to Sunset Point, we got in four miles (a very fast four miles as it was well below freezing still) before arriving back at Beagle. 

My plan was to check everything at 3:00 PM then decide if I had enough battery power to go another night.  If it was at 60% or above 13.4 Amps, I would stay.

As I was making my second breakfast, the wind picked up and the sky filled with clouds—there went any hope of solar.  I turned on my inverter to make some toast and, despite my meter saying the batteries were at 49%, it started beeping an alarm and the monitor started freaking out.  (These are the exact words I texted to CH, my installer and ever-ready technical support, who by now can interpret “freaking out”—whether displayed on a machine or coming from me, quite easily.)  The monitor suddenly dropped to zero percent and less than 13 volts; there was no way I could ride out another night in the teens.  Even if I managed to get the batteries to charge more, the thought of that alarm going off at 3:00 AM was enough to start me packing.

I hitched up in the freezing wind as the first snow flakes began to pelt my face.  Opus had long since retired into his crate in the back of the warm car.  As a matter of fact, I haven’t seen his eyeballs in about three hours.  Dogs know what to do in a storm.

Just after leaving the park entrance, I broke open a bag of Peanut M&Ms, it was 11:48 AM.

And so we are down in Panguitch, Utah, at Henrie’s Hitch ‘N Post RV Park (yep) which, despite its location adjacent to Highway 89, is delightful.  I am plugged in, my monitor is no longer freaking out, the heater is blasting almost as hard as the wind is knocking Beagle around.  To keep life simple, I’ll stay here three nights and just day trip back up into Bryce (tomorrow) and then try my hand at skiing Brian Head on Friday.  Providing, of course, that this storm passes as it should.

At some point I do have to return for River--whether she likes it or not.

-K

The Night I Brought in My Snow Boots

 

An alternate title:  There’s a Reason for Everything, Including Decaffeinated Coffee

I have long said that the only time I feel at home is when I shut the door on the Beagle; it doesn’t matter where she is parked.  But there are some places that are great to come back to, and, for me, Colorado is one of them.   After five days of pulling Beagle over unfamiliar roads to unfamiliar places (all part of the plan) I drew great comfort when I saw the “Welcome to Colorful Colorado” sign.  It’s nice to know where you are.

Turns out I am here two days early:  I did, in fact, tow Beagle up to Fish Lake, Utah, where we drove up a pitted dirt road in the “rv park” to a surprisingly delightful pitch up on a hill overlooking the lake.  (The Fish Lake Lodge RV Park is not my idea of an RV park; I don’t stay at them often, but when I do it’s because I need a long, hot shower and to do some laundry.  This place had no showers and the laundry room was a quarter of a mile away from my pitch.)  But a lovely view:

 

With rain due the next day, I didn’t want to waste any of the wonderful sunshine unhitching Beagle, rather, I hitched up the noses and we went for a walk.  After returning River to the car, Opus and I set out along the Lakeshore Path, much in need of some strenuous exercise. 

It was a gorgeous trail (pictured above) and flat; I couldn’t figure out why I was breathless.  We pressed on at a good 3+ MPH pace, clocking 5.5 miles total.  Midway through we stumbled upon a creek filled with one of nature’s most amazing wonders; migrating salmon.

 

I sat by the creek for a few minutes watching them in their quest.  I felt a keen fellowship with these beings who follow their intuition to get somewhere no matter the effort.

Back at Beagle I was not feeling well.  My head was pounding and I was becoming nauseous.  I tried to make myself eat and drink but it was difficult.  After doing some meditation, I fired up Garmin to see what altitude we were at and was surprised to see it was 9,000’.  Which explains my symptoms; I can hike above 10,000’ but need to come back down to at least 7,000’ for sleeping purposes.  Tried and tested in Machu Picchu and on Kilimanjaro, I did not need to repeat either of those experiences in Utah, particularly with no cell service.

So, despite it being 4:00 PM, I put the noses in the car (see?  Good thing I didn’t bother to unhitch earlier) and we headed back to Richfield, back to the KOA—a real RV park with long, hot showers, a 24-hour laundry room, and good cell service.  I needed to develop a Plan B.

I felt immediately better when I dropped down to Richfield which sits at 5,300’; my pull-through site needed no adjustments side to side or front to back, so I quickly walked the noses, threw in a load of laundry and headed to the wonderful showers.  (I do shower every day in Beagle, but nothing compares to endless amounts of hot water pouring down upon your head—a Beagle shower is military style; get in, get wet, turn water off, soap up, rinse off, get out, dry your goosebumps.)

After getting all clean and toasty, I set about making my Plan B; I was supposed to ride out the snow storm at Fish Lake and just because I wasn't there didn't mean the storm wasn't coming.  I certainly wasn’t going to stay another night at the KOA.   I decided to head toward Denver and spend my extra days in Colorado; a place I know and love. 

So here you find me tonight at the James Robb Island Acres State Park for two nights.  It should rain here tomorrow and snow up higher, so we’ll just hunker down and see what happens.  I do not want to traverse any of the passes in the snow, that’s for sure.  I love the Colorado storms (and miss this kind of weather more than I thought) and know how quickly they can come and go.

It’s a lovely campground, right along the Colorado River.  I remember passing it when heading out with Alan in Salt and thinking it would be a great place to stop.  And here I am. 

***

It is now Tuesday morning and other than River hopping out for a quick pee, we three are sequestered inside (Opus can hold it forever.)  The rain is pouring down and the wind whipping around.  While parking Beagle yesterday, I made note of the branches and, thankfully, parked her in the open—no need to have a branch blow down on my solar panels, I thought.

New to the food options in this Beagle trip is the addition of decaffeinated coffee; I love coffee but can only have two “real” cups a day and clearly this day is going to require more like four.  Or six.

You know me, I believe everything happens for a reason; the trick is pausing long enough to listen to your intuition; and then, like the salmon, having the drive to experience your unique path in life.

-K

PS:  Really glad we are not on the road as a gust of wind just blew so hard Wurzig’s lights came on. 

The Space Between

 

Greetings from the KOA in Richfield, Utah, where I am writing as I watch some seriously dark clouds roll in from the North-West.  We are between storms, but don’t let me get ahead of myself.

***

“Where are you heading?”, asked the nice waitress at the Little A’le’Inn Café as I was paying my tab, “East, toward the storm”, I replied, as I looked out the windows toward the darkening sky and watched a tumbleweed cross the highway—unimpeded you know, because THERE ARE NO CARS ON THAT ROAD.

And so we headed out, confident in my route and knowing the end point; the Cedar Canyon RV Park in Cedar City, Utah.  Thankfully the night before I had thought to call the RV park, turns out everyone in the area was filling up fast; the National Forest campgrounds had all closed on October 1 (note to self) and the weather was questionable so folks were flocking to the RV parks.

I asked for two nights but Tom could only promise one.  After that he offered his overflow parking area since I didn’t need any hook-ups.  I took the one night still hoping that something more interesting would turn up.

With a known stop for the night, I decided to do my best to explore the area as I drove along, take time off the route, enjoy the space between. 

We quickly entered the storm and enjoyed the rain pounding on the windshield, washing away all the dirt and dust that had accumulated over the last, what?  Eleven days?  Time has lost all meaning once again.

As luck would have it, the rain took a break right when we needed one and I saw a sign for a State Park with camping two miles outside of Caliente.  Obviously, I didn’t need to camp, but the camping sign let me know that I would be able to (a) drive to the State Park despite it being down a narrow road, and (b) park Beagle somewhere for an hour or so.

We parked just outside the campground and immediately found a nice trail heading up into the valley, far enough from the road so the dogs could be off leash.  After River had her fill, we plopped her back in the car and Opus and I set off for a longer hike.  It felt so good to be out hiking!  It had only been one day without hiking but I still missed it.  We ended up taking a ridge hike which afforded this picture back down to the valley:

On the way back it began to rain again causing us to run—mostly with joy.  The rain hitting my face, the smell of wet dirt and sage brush, and the clean, crisp air made me literally whoop with happiness.

The rain continued right up until we reached Cedar City, then it broke off for a few minutes allowing me to park Beagle in site #11; a narrow back-in spot surrounded by rocks.  It was a bit tricky particularly considering that the road was mostly dirt quickly turning into mud and I had to back her up a hill. 

It also wasn’t level so, as the rain began again, I laid down a few leveling blocks and reposition Beagle.  Unbeknownst to me, while I was adjusting the left side up, the right side was sinking into the mud.  I did not double check the balance, the rain was pouring down by then, so ended up sleeping with my feet slightly higher than my head.  Not the end of the world.

Thankfully, with my lithium batteries (have I mentioned how much I love them?) I did not need to plug into the electrical system but I did have to take on some fresh water.  So I sloshed through the mud with rain pouring off my hood in front of my face and filled her up--difficult with cold fingers; the temperature was nearing 40.  The noses were dry and toasty inside Wurzig.

But they had to come out and get into Beagle.

Now, there is the joy of getting wet dogs into Beagle and the immense jubilation of getting wet and muddy dogs into Beagle; we clearly had immense jubilation.

We hunkered down for a couple of hours and around 6:00 PM, there was a break in the rain so I Ieashed them up for their evening constitutional.  We headed out one of the short hiking trails which just so happened to leave from the overflow parking area.  It was a mud pit.  I knew right then I would not stay another night. 

The path seemed to have a lot of gravel until squish!  Down went Opus’ legs into about three inches of sticky red mud.  He jumped forward which pulled me into the mud and then, of course, River.  We all three jumped out of there but not before all ten feet were covered in mud.

But I can take off my shoes.

The rain was picking up again so we were wet and muddy when we returned to Beagle.  Some experiences you just simply have to get through.

I spent a lot of time that evening trying to figure out where I would spend the next night.  Frustrating with no cell service and minimal WIFI at the park—but I knew I wasn’t going to spend another night in the mud pit.  My last line in my journal that night was, “I am tired of thinking about where I am going to sleep tomorrow.”

You know how much I love to sit in Beagle, but after fourteen hours (albeit lovely hours listening to the rain on Beagle’s roof—one of my favorite things in the world) we were ready to get out.  The sun was up, the blue sky clear, the air crisp.  I was dying to hike but realized the trails would all be muddy plus I had to check-out by 11.  Then I remembered seeing a paved path along the river as we drove up Highway 14.  So I threw the noses in the car and headed to that spot.

What a lovely path!  It wound along the river and there was a breast cancer walk happening so there were a bunch of happy, pink-clad people with whom to exchange “good mornings.”  Opus and I eventually did four miles (after returning River to the car.)

Back at Beagle, I hurriedly packed up, made a plan to drive up Highway 14 toward Brian Head and Bryce Canyon, then skirt over and catch Highway 89.  For some reason I was completely calm about not having a place to stay which allowed me to enjoy the gorgeous drive—pictures do not do it justice—up the canyon and into the mountains freshly covered with at least a foot of snow.

We came down the other side of the pass and when I stopped for gas at 1:00, I thought I should try and figure out where we would rest for the night.  I had some cell service so called the KOA in Richfield who had spots available.  Another hour should have gotten us there but, as we were driving along the beautiful Highway 89, I noticed another paved path that ran for miles on the other side of the river.  I kept my eye out for access and found a spot to pull off the road, grabbed the dogs, scampered up a small rise and onto the path.  River did almost two miles and she rarely does that any more.

That brings you to now:  As I mentioned, another storm is coming, with more snow on Tuesday.  So I decided I better hunker down.  I have one night here and then I am moving over to the Fishlake RV Park for at least three nights which should get us through the snow storm hopefully with enough fair weather along the way to get back up onto some trails.

-K

Today was Half as Hot as Tuesday

 

Hi Dear Readers!  I am writing from Dutch John, Utah, my first visit to the Flaming Gorge Recreation Area.  Much like Idaho, I have driven through this area many times and read the signs as Alan and I zoomed past—always too intent on getting to either Colorado or back to the San Juan Islands.  We never had more than a one-night stop in Idaho, nor did we take the time to duck into this canyon.  It’s delightful.  And cool.  And, get this, raining!  Not just a trickle either; on the drive today we were treated to lightening and thunder and drops larger than quarters pounding on Wurzig’s windshield.

Yep, today on my drive down from Blackfoot Reservoir, the lowest temperature was 50 degrees—half of what it was when I pulled out of the Porsche dealership in Boise on Tuesday.  You read that right, but I will not go into details other than to say the people there were wonderful and Beagle, who never is short of admirers, was a hit parked in front of the showroom.  I spent two hours giving tours to visitors and staff; two people came in to the showroom to see if she was for sale. 

As if.

While in Boise, the Noses and I enjoyed five nights in a VRBO; a delightful house with an Opus-escape-proof backyard for them and A/C for all of us.  

Wurzig is fixed for now (same message as before, they replaced the second most likely culprit, all being done under warranty--sorry I did go into details) but there are no guarantees since the light does not come on regularly.  Having spent some time discussing the issue with a friend as well as the mechanic, I am confident that, even if the light returns, I do not need to alter my plans.

Whatever those are.

During one of the hot days in Boise, I took a drive up to Cascade Lake to look at some properties.  I was discouraged:  The prices were atrocious for what you were getting.   Nothing was feeling right:  Canada was still closed, the heat was oppressive, and I was considering ending not only that day trip, but my entire trip as well.   I decided to rest a minute near the lake and called a friend who encouraged me to continue north to McCall; he has a cabin there and knowing for what I have been searching, was quite sure I would love it.

And I did.

Sitting at the Shore Lodge eating lunch in the sunshine (it was a mere 75 degrees up there) looking over the marina and up the long, dark, gorgeous lake, I thought, “Beagle who?”  I could have stayed there the entire summer. 

So why am I in Utah?  Meeting up with family for four days but then I am returning to Idaho.  I’ll swing through Sun Valley and up into Stanley (highly recommended by the camping-crazy locals in Boise) before returning to McCall.

And how about the trip down here?  You ask such good questions!   Well, the first night, as I said, it was 100 degrees and 1:00 when I left Boise with the intention of getting in a hundred miles or so before stopping at an RV park along the route.  I needed electricity:  We all needed A/C.

But all the RV parks were full, so I used Campendium and found the Rock Creek RV Park, a county park in Twin Falls that had electric hook-ups.  Yes!  They were first come first serve only, I was counting on a lot of Kitness.

I pulled in and the first loop was completely taken.  As I started my right turn into the second loop, I noticed an open spot at the end of the loop on the left.  So I did what any desperate woman would do, I turned the wrong way up the one-way drive, drove just far enough to be able to back Beagle into position, jumped out, plugged in Beagle and then sat in the car until the A/C had cooled her down.  I nabbed one of only three spots left—the other two filled up within thirty minutes.  And the Kitness was working—most people had another RV right in their face but, being on the end, we had a large tree and acres of green across the way.

Just after sunset I felt a huge wind hit Beagle and then my phone alerted me to a weather advisory; the area was due for wind gusts up to 60 MPH with blowing sand and dirt, warning people off the highway due to lack of visibility.

I’ll say.

I hopped out of Beagle to safely stow my chair and couldn’t see more than twenty feet!  The dirt was everywhere!  It smacked you in the face, blew up your nose and into your eyes.  Between the wind, dirt and heat, I felt like I was camping on Mars. 

The second night we stopped at Blackfoot Reservoir, where we were welcomed with 75 degrees and this as our view:  (The picture at the top of this post was taken this morning from inside Beagle as the sun was rising—didn’t even open the door.) 

And the drive today was fantastic:  Rolling hills, lush, green farmland with happy cows, two lane highways (one lane each direction) the entire time and then, along Highway 414 in south-western Wyoming, some of the most beautiful hillsides I have ever seen:  They looked like they were made with layers of sand and the thickest layer was, I am not kidding you, a light greenish blue.  Being on the aforementioned two-lane highway with no pull outs, I was unable to stop and take a picture.  But it was stunning. 

This is what I have missed.

I’m back.  The rain stopped so I walked Opus down to the marina where they rent stand-up paddleboards as well as boats.  Tomorrow another storm is due to roll through but Saturday and Sunday look as delightful as the clear, deep water.  I cannot wait to swim!

-K