Tag Archives: plan B

The Intrepid Journey 2018: One Month to Go

31 Tuesday Jul 2018

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I cannot believe it!

I can count down the days – not weeks, not months, but days – until I take off on The Intrepid Journey 2018! 31 days from today, from this hour, I will be leaving on a jet plane, headed south and west to whatever awaits me.

What’s happened since my last post? Not much… and a lot.

The bus situation has primarily straightened itself out, and I have all my accommodations booked. I just have to book my flight home, and then I’m good to go!

Half-marathon training has been going well…

But a serious summer cold set me back a week, and we had to send Jenny to the emergency vet this past weekend; she’s still there now, having undergone surgery on Monday night. Needless to say, we’re both a little worse for wear right now. My training schedule is shot out of the water. I need to give Jenny and I time to rest and recover, and adjust my race-pace expectations, but it looks like both Jenny and I can be in some kind of running form on race day (47 days from now).

It FINALLY feels real!

I’ve always liked to plan stuff – I should’ve gone to travel agent school – and so planning the logistics has been both frustrating and invigorating. Seeing it all come together, fall apart, and come together again has been amazing, and it’s enabled me to do a lot of things – like run a half-marathon – that I never thought possible.

If you’d like to support this trip and the lessons I learn along the way, please consider donating here, or buy me a coffee… because there’s no such thing as too much coffee!

The Intrepid Journey 2018: Opportunity Knocks

16 Monday Apr 2018

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I hate the saying “everything Happens for a Reason.”

 

Sometimes, there is no reason.

 

But, in many things, I find myself embracing new opportunities where once I had seen closed doors.

 

Does opportunity knock, or do we make our own?

 

Are both true?

 

I’ve made a decision since last I wrote: I’m skipping Missoula. Sure, I booked a bus ticket to Missoula (and not using it will leave me out $30), but other bus route cancellations have made visiting there impractical. I’m spending an extra day and night in Flathead County, making my way to Great Falls by train and bus a couple days earlier than originally planned, which leaves me some time to spend in Butte! I’ve heard both amazing things about Butte, and have been told by other people to skip it. But since I was able to easily find accommodations in Butte (compared to the hostile reception by multiple Missoulian AirBNB hosts), and there’s a ton of historical stuff within walking distance, I figure I can’t REALLY go wrong. I’ve also been able to locate places to stay in Bozeman and Billings, which now completes the accommodation search. YAY!

 

Transportation is still a concern (though research has told me that there may be schedule changes later this month); and here I thought that would be the easy part of trip planning!

 

WRONG!

 

But… opportunities.

 

Wonderful opportunities.

 

I’ve been toying with the idea of running a half-marathon for the past couple years, and I happened to Google what races might be running in Montana while I’m in the State.

 

And I found one.

 

I have signed up for the Montana Marathon in Billings! It’s a day earlier than I planned to get there, but there’s a half-marathon! I’m tired of saying that someday I might run a half-marathon… I am going to run a half-marathon five months from today! I’m still working out some logistics – when I will get into town, who will be my guide runner, and how I plan to train both at home and away – but this is honestly the most right-feeling thing about this trip. It’s yet another way I will grow and stretch and push myself and meet more people… I couldn’t be happier!

 

Without the canceling of bus routes and shuffling my itinerary and putting it all back together again, this wouldn’t be possible.

 

So I’ll be running mile after mile, doing squats and planks and stair-climbs, thanking Opportunity for knocking when I was in a position to answer.

 

Please consider supporting this trip and help making it the best it can be!

The Intrepid Journey 2018: Back to the Drawing Board

03 Saturday Mar 2018

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Well, not quite… but mostly.

 

Since my previous post about my three bus cancellations, I’ve been waiting… and waiting… and waiting. In addition to the three tickets I was alerted had been changed canceled, further research has shown me that one more ticket had been altered, making my accommodations in Helena nearly unusable. I was able to get that ticket refunded as well, but that leaves me in a position of having multiple accommodations and no safe way to get from one to another, unless I book alternate arrangements and/or change my accommodation bookings.

I’ve booked one flight – the one to get me to Seattle – and one bus ticket that appears to have been unaffected by route and schedule changes. Beyond that, I’ve been doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out whether to keep my existing schedule and hope transportation figures itself out or making changes, forfeiting one unaffected bus ticket and hoping things don’t change further.

I am tired.

I’ve also decided to create a crowdfunding page. Many readers have read my Epic Road Trip of Awesome series and expressed their enjoyment of it. Because I plan on blogging about The Intrepid Journey, I’m asking faithful readers to consider supporting this trip to help make it the best trip it can be. 🙂

Please consider supporting this trip and sharing the crowdfunding page (even sharing can help out!)

I’ve got a generally clean slate, and that is both exciting and aggravating.

The Intrepid Journey 2018: Preparing by the Seat of My Pants

06 Saturday Jan 2018

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A dream of a solo journey through Montana was born while driving down a highway in the summer of 2017, passing cities I thought might be fun. I hadn’t even unpacked my bag from that trip before I started looking up bus routes to make this next trip happen.
Four months later, I’ve waffled almost constantly between excitement, ambivalence, and apprehension. The first thing I booked was my train ticket from Seattle to Whitefish, Montana, splurging on a sleeper car; it seemed like an appropriate celebratory purchase when my work position went from a term contract to a permanent position. Any time I had some extra spending money, I put it into bus tickets – as of this writing, five of them had been booked. My wonderful husband gave me an Alaska Airlines gift card for Christmas, so I’m just waiting for my flight from Edmonton to Seattle to possibly decrease in price; and I’d have no money at all if I booked my flight right now from Denver back home. But that will come.
As for accommodation, my goal is to meet people, which pretty much rules out the segregation and sterility of hotels. An accommodating AirBNB host in Cheyenne put up no resistance regarding Jenny, though he did express concern regarding me navigating his basement steps (and lest anyone think it’s a blind thing, he posted about it in his listing itself, so I doubt it). A friend in Denver has offered to put me up for a weekend (though I won’t identify them at this point). I snapped up pet-friendly accommodations within my (admittedly cheap) budget in Seattle, Helena and Great Falls, with hosts who appear to be more than welcoming. Just this morning, I booked my one night in a hostel in Whitefish – who can go wrong staying in a spot with storage for bags and a vegetarian restaurant and smoothie bar?
And then there’s Missoula.
I’ve had service dog refusals before, but I’ve had two notable AirBNB hosts in Missoula who have been incredibly unwelcoming and rude (not to mention discriminatory and in violation of AirBNB’s inclusion policy regarding assistance animals). Correspondence with AirBNB on this issue has given me little more than reiterations of the policies I already know.

So I promised myself – both as a way to save my pennies for now and a way to preserve my own mental well-being – to put my 25-AirBNB-listing Missoula wish list (and my smaller ones for Bozeman and Billings) on hold temporarily.

And it’s a darn good thing I did!

I got a call from Greyhound this afternoon, telling me that my scheduled trip from Missoula to Great Falls had been canceled outright, and my revised trips from Helena to Bozeman and Bozeman to Billings (thanks to cancellations of my purchased daytime routes) would involve arriving at the bus station in Bozeman in the middle of the night. I had hoped to avoid overnight travel altogether as much as possible, and I found myself standing in my bedroom, laughing uproariously at the absurdity of all this; if I didn’t laugh, I guarantee I would’ve been crying. The Greyhound representative refunded those tickets that had been impacted by the route cancelations, and I’m in contact with Jefferson Lines (the partner company) to see if there are plans for revised daytime schedules in the near future.

My sister-in-law, Sarah – who many readers got to know through my Epic Road Trip of Awesome series – recently described me (and this journey) as “intrepid”. I am resolute and dauntless about this trip, even though I have no idea how it’s all going to pan out. Never has it felt more true – or more freeing or more scary – at this moment.

So, I’ll be putting bookings on hold for the time being, just to wait and see how the stars align in the next few months.

But, hey, I’ve got some extra cash thanks to those refunds, and can start saving more. Maybe I should book those flights!

The Epic Road trip of Awesome Day 8: “Will Run For…?”

27 Friday Oct 2017

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Saturday, September 2, 2017
We’ve got no particular plans for today, but we continue our habit of being up by 7:00 AM. Ben’s use of the larger air mattress has given him (and by extention us) a more restful sleep.
The campers in the site next to us have brought a young kitten with them. This cat has spent most of its time in the car, meowing its little head off. Sarah notices this, and it makes me sad.
The four of us make our way to the showers, where I notice that not only the showers but the washrooms have curtains rather than doors. I think I like it; it’s easy to keep clean and free of mold.
I’ve changed into a pair of shorts and the T-shirt I bought from Mark earlier in the week. The back of the shirt says “Will Run for Pie”, and I am on a mission to eat pie while wearing that shirt. I refuse to be denied!
I’m in the tent, rolling sleeping bags, when a woman comes by our camp site to see if anyone has lost a bracelet. Turns out, it was mine! I had placed the bracelet Dad gave me for my birthday beside my toiletry bag and promptly forgotten about it. I thank her profusely for returning it to me, and the four of us meet our campsite neighbors with the kitten. The kids don’t seem to care that I can’t see, as I snuggle the little ball of kitten fluff. I think of Wolfie, who’s still growing, and remember Dash, who’s the only kitty I’ve ever had be that small. I’m missing them more fiercely than ever, and as much fun as I’m having, I just want to go home.

We pack up the roof bag for the last time, putting all of our camping gear on the roof and cramming our backpacks in the trunk. Dwight wonders why we haven’t always done this, and I don’t have a good answer for him.

We hit the road back to Bozeman, and hoshi is still holding her own. we definitely need to visit a mechanic when we get back to Edmonton, but the immediate crisis is over.

With Jenny, it’s not going so well. We pull up in front of Cafe M, and she limps slightly as we walk to the door. Sarah notices, too, and makes a concerned comment. I wonder if it’s because her paws are tender from the heat of yesterday, or if it’s something else. Sarah has trained with horses for years and describes where she sees the origin of the limp. Thankfully it’s not her hips, but her hock. I worry about my guide, who wears her big open Labrador heart on her sleeve. For her to show this level of pain breaks my heart.

We enter the cafe, and I immediately smell something lemony. Could this be pie? might I have pie with my breakfast and complete my mission of getting a picture of my eating pie while wearing this awesome shirt?

It’s not pie.

We order breakfast – surprisingly large and savory portions – with our coffee, and chat about what we’d like to do in Bozeman today… and the party we’re going to throw in the hotel room tonight. At one point, I get up to take Jenny outside. her limp is more noticeable the longer we walk. I’m not gone for more than ten minutes, and when I come back inside, ben’s gone (for some reason he never shared with me) to go get more money out of the bank machine. Little matter that I have plenty of cash with me; he HAD to get more, and get charged through the nose by our bank for the privilege. I’m more annoyed than I should be. I’m having so much fun here, but I seriously just want to go home, and home has never felt so close – just within my grasp – and yet so far away. It all boils over into an emotional overreaction that makes me feel like crap.

We finish our coffees and walk down E Main St. We pop into brick buildings, new and old. Dwight buys a nice pair of pants – “with ALL the pockets!” he gushes. At every place we stop, I massage Jenny’s hind leg near her hip. She seems to feel better, and she walks a little smoother each time. Sarah notices, too,and thinks that she – like us – is stiff and sore from so many hours curled up in the car, but will otherwise be fine.

Then we pop into the Montana Gift Corral. We are greeted warmly and offered coffee, and I just know I could spend hours here. I browse around for T-shirts, and find one that’s the softest fabric. It’s black, with a saying I love on the front. I zip into the washroom to try it on, and it fits nicely. I come out to the front, triumphant, and Ben shows me what he’s found.

He’s found a small plaque with a picture of a black Lab that says “Never camp Alone”. My eyes well with tears as the poignancy of this whole week, camping with this beautiful guide, hits me full force.

I’m standing at the counter, paying for my T-shirt, when Ben tells me he’d like to give me a bracelet. It caught Sarah’s eye, and Ben agreed it looks gorgeous. I try it on. I like it a lot, but it fits a little big, and I worry about the clasp staying closed and the bracelet remaining on my wrist. The words don’t come out right; I don’t want Ben and Sarah to think I don’t appreciate it – because I do! – but it doesn’t quite suit me. At a loss, I say only that I worry about it staying on my hand because of its size and my wrist because of the clasp. The bracelet is purchased along with the plaque, and once again, I feel like crap.

We walk up and down East Main Street, as the day heats up and smoke lingers in the air from ever-present wildfires. Ben seems equally as edgy as I feel, because without warning he goes off to be alone for a few minutes and the three of us continue browsing Main Street. When ben meets up with us a few minutes later, we come across a small park, and sit down to wait a few minutes before making our way to a tattoo parlor that opens at noon. We get to that place only to find them closed. Sarah finds another one up the block, and she walks down there as we make our way back to the car. Less than 30 minutes later, we pick up a newly-tattooed Sarah and hit the road for our hotel.

 

Bozeman, MT – Izaak Walton Inn

Distance: 312 miles (502 km)

Travel Time: 6 hours (including stops)

We’re all weary and exhausted. Bozeman has been just as hot as Billings was yesterday. We just want to get to the hotel, let our hair down, and PARTY!

The miles go by as we fly down the interstates. When we reach Butte, I’m disappointed we have no time to stop. When helena is within spitting distance, I realize I can’t add to the list of state capitals I’ve visited. I muse dreamily about how it would be to travel Montana by bus, from city to city, and the spark of a dream was born.

We stop in a small town near Augusta, where we pay for fuel at a station that feels like it’s entirely made of wood. The floors creak, the washrooms are so small that they might as well be called closets, and the muggy air is blown around by a single fan near the cashier counter. It feels good to stand around and chat, but soon it’s time to hit the road again.

We make it to Browning right on schedule – 5:30. We stop at one grocery store, who doesn’t seem to have anything we’re looking for. We go back to the car and go to another store, where we buy a fried chicken meal from the deli, the best of the meagre chip selection that seems to be prevalent in the States,  and enough alcohol for a group twice our size. We come out paying less than $20 a person, and giddily drive the next hour to the Izaak Walton Inn.

We check in just after 6:30 and get our room keys. I ask if the restaurant has pie, and am told they don’t, but the bar downstairs should. I’m giddy; I might JUST get my picture!

It takes us two full trips to carry our backpacks, food, booze, and other supplies the three flights of stairs to our room. It’s huge! There’s a queen bed in each of the two rooms, along with a twin bed and a twin futon. We chill 4 drinks in the sink as we dig into the chicken. ben wants to go take pictures of trains, Dwight and Sarah want to go down to the bar, and I want my pie! The three of us go downstairs as Ben goes to take his pictures.

My hopes for pie are dashed… again.

There is no pie.

But there IS cobbler!

I’ll run for cobbler!

 

My T-shirt says “Will Run for Pie”, with “Cobbler” written on a napkin. You can also see the cobbler

 

I have already had one drink, plus the chicken, and I’m not feeling well. I think it’s the chicken, so I guzzle a ton of water while picking at my delicious cobbler. I make a comment that the piano in the bar is out of tune, and Dwight and I disagree about whether it sounds harmonious or not. Dwight says he’ll refrain from telling the bartender that I play, for which I thank him profusely.

Eventually, Dwight and Sarah go for a walk outside, leaving Ben and I alone for a few precious moments. We are now relaxed, more relaxed than we’ve been in a while, and we talk openly about this trip – what we wish had been different, our personal highlights, what changed in us. I tell him about my dream – of traveling Montana by bus – alone – and he’s surprised. I think in a way he’s a little hurt, too, or maybe confused is a better word. But the idea has gripped me so strongly that I know it’s something I need to do. The pieces haven’t fallen into place, but I’ve fallen in love with this state and its people, and I have a feeling I will learn even more about myself on this upcoming dream-trip than I have on this awesome adventure we’ve been on for the past week. It’s not logical, it doesn’t make sense even to me, but it’s something I know I just HAVE to do, and I’ll work out the details later.

Sarah and Dwight come back, giddy with alcohol and the night air, and we break into the chips and the drinks and a rousing game of Cards against Humanity. Over the past year, ben’s collected almost all the expantion packs, and the game is spread out over the bench seat. Dwight sits on Ben’s and by Bed, while Ben takes the couch and Sarah and I grab chairs. We keep drinks out of the way of hands and feet, laugh uproariously at the questions and answers, go on rabbit trails, talk more, drink more, eat more chips…

The clock strikes midnight, and we’re suddenly exhausted. Ben and I retired to our bed, while Sarah and Dwight stay up later, chatting. Their voices and laughter soothe me to sleep as our last night in Montana draws to a close.

The Epic Road trip Of Awesome Day 7: “I’ll have a Bucket of Chili and a Wad of potatoes, Please!”

25 Wednesday Oct 2017

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Friday, September 1, 2017
The crickets are now silent. Jenny has not left my side. I wake up with my legs squished between my dog and my husband, whose snoring has helped keep some of us awake. We’re going to try and reconfigure the sleeping arrangements tonight, to see if we can get a better sleep.
Smoke hangs heavy in the air from wildfires in the area. But it’s so cold outside that I wish I’d packed gloves. I’m glad I packed a pair of jeans and a heavier sweater; I’m going to need it today.
While I grab my toiletry bag from my backpack, Jenny goes outside with Sarah, and she’s fascinated by the kitty cat roaming around the camp site. She does a great job of sniffing the grass instead of investigating the cat. I’m reminded of our three sweet kitties at home and I miss them terribly.
Sarah and I make our way to the showers. They aren’t quite as nice as yesterday’s, but both of us want to stand under the water for longer than we really need to. I turn off my shower first, Sarah calls me a rude name, and we laugh about the absurdity of this. I change into my jeans and sweater and I’m suddenly not shivering as we make our way back to the camp site.
We bring the mattress bags out of the car and start unloading them and sorting clothes. I sort my clean laundry into outfits, roll them, and pack them into my bag. For a few minutes I think I have misplaced a sock, only to find that sock right where I tucked it in the back pocket of my jeans. While we’re packing our laundry into our backpacks, Jenny has figured out how to open the zipper on the tent…

jenny’s head is sticking out of the tent

 

Lori told us last night that we don’t have to worry about a checkout time. We leave the tent and sleeping bags at the camp site and head over to Lariat Country Kitchen. The chairs and tables are so close together that Jenny’s quite confused as to how she’s going to guide me through them. She does a stellar job and curls up beside my chair to the ooooohs and aahhhhhs of fellow diners.
We order our coffee (no pitcher today) and our breakfasts. I choose the chili skillet, of which everyone tries a sample. Sarah likes it so much that she wants to take that chili home in a bucket. I admit that I prefer these potatoes to the ones we had in Idaho; THOSE ones were just kinda clumped together – like a wad of potatoes. The joke around the table is that someone should order a bucket of chili and a wad of potatoes; no one dreamed that Sarrah would get part of her wish. When our waitress comes back to ask if we need anything, Sarah asks if they have buckets of that chili to order. “Well, not really a bucket, but a to-go cup,” comes the reply. She brings out the to-go cup, which is the size of…. a small bucket.
So… a bucket of chili it is!
We drive from Lariat Country Kitchen the 16 miles (26 km) to Little Bighorn National Monument. Ben and I travel around the paths, reading the plaques and eavesdropping on the cell phones of other visitors who downloaded the local app. Sarah and Dwight take another route because Dwight needs another bathroom break, prompting us all to joke about his inopportune timing. jenny guides me along the paved path, but I keep her Newtrix on her to keep her nose out of the grass (there are signs indicating there are rattlesnakes in the area).

It’s incredibly moving to see the headstones, marking the actual places where people died. The plaques all provide information about a battle I’ve barely even heard of, and I wish we could spend more time here, learning about the war and the people who fought it.

 

Custer's Headstone

 

 

We agreed to meet Sarah and Dwight back at the visitors centre. They aren’t done their tour yet, but Ben and I can explore. As soon as we walk in, we are told about the film they show (hourly?) and are offered the opportunity to watch it using descriptive video. If we didn’t have a long drive ahead of us tonight, I would’ve jumped at the chance to catch it. As it is, I thank them for not only knowing what descriptive video is, but for offering it to me with no questions asked.

We make our way to the gift shop, Where we meet Kay. She works for one of the tour companies, and she’s super friendly. She asks great quesitons about Jenny, including why she wears a “muzzle.” I show her how Jenny can open her mouth fully while wearing the Newtrix, and explain that it gives me a little more tactile feedback of her head movements. Kay thanks me, and then shows Ben and I some books she thinks he should check out. Ben buys two books, with complementary perspectives on the Battle of Little Bighorn – one written from the military point of view, the other in support of the native Americans. (As an aside, the use of the word “Indian” is seemingly acceptable to describe Native Americans, and I wonder if it’s how they refer to themselves; in Canada, the word “Indian” is considered an insult). We thank Kay for her suggestions, and she tells us to come on back and bring her some ketchup chips.

I find a badge for Jenny’s blanket and a keychain, and go wait for the others in the car. Ben meets up with Dwight and Sarah, and they tour around the graveyard for a while, while I’m sitting and waiting impatiently in the hot car and Jenny’s trying to eat the fruit flies that have taken over our $8 bag of grapes. My choice of jeans and a sweater now seems foolish; It’s warm and sunny outside, and I am BOILING.

We drive back to the camp site, throw out the grapes, and start packing up the tent. On our way out, we stop by the gift shop to check out. Lori tells us about the fire last December that damaged much of her merchandise, and the smoke – not unpleasantly – can still be sensed in the air. Lori’s thrilled that she was able to find an entire box of medium T-shirts, and I buy a red one with a couple of bears on it, while Dwight and Sarah browse around for mugs. She also has nightgowns, and I buy one with wolves painted on it. My discretionary money is dwindling rapidly, but I can’t go wrong with clothing.

We wave our goodbyes, and promise to return, and make our way to solo time in Billings.

 

Grandview Campground – Billings, MT
Distance: 47 miles (76 km)
Travel Time: 45 minutes

 

As soon as the car starts moving, I realize that I have a solution to my clothing dilemma. I duck below the window of the car and quickly change from my sweater to my new T-shirt. The relief is intense!

We’re all itching to go off and do our own thing today. Seven full days of pretty much 24/7 togetherness has proven to be almost too much. I hope we can all reset, regroup, and come back together and enjoy the last two days of our trip.

We pull up to Brockel’s Chocolates and agree to meet back there in two hours. Dwight wants a coffee, and I’m feeling adventurous, so I ask if he wants me to help locate a coffee shop. He agrees, and follows me and Jenny as we open the door to a hair salon. I crack a joke about needing a haircut, and they tell me they’re booked all day. But they tell me about the great coffee shop around the corner at the end of the block. Jenny guides us flawlessly to the door, and I wave goodbye to Dwight, as I duck out of the coffee shop in search of my own adventures.

Nearby Explorer comes to the rescue again, providing me location information as I walk up and down the city streets. I’m stunned by the audible signals that – unlike the ones that “chirp” and “coocoo” at home – actually have a human voice indicate which direction has the red or green light. I stop myself from standing at the corner and listening to it talk for several cycles.

I’m feeling like going into businesses and seeing what they sell or do. Up one block, I find a shop that sells “Indian” art (a term that makes me flinch), another that sells vintage clothing (that turns me off with its faux fur-trimmed jackets), and a couple of restaurant patios. I walk back the way Dwight and I came, and ask a couple of fellow pedestrians for recommendations for coffee shops. They point out the one Dwight’s currently sitting in, and I ask them for another recommendation. They laugh, telling me they just arrived yesterday from Texas, but they heard about this cool coffee shop around the corner…

I wind up at Mazevo Coffee, where I order a coffee and a sandwich. I chat with the guy behind the counter (whose name I can’t remember) and he talks about traveling through Montana and cool places to see. Other locals come in and are greeted warmly. I soak in the atmosphere of this tiny coffee shop and learn a few things about Billings. By the time I stand up to leave, an hour has passed and I know I’ll be back to Mazevo next time I get out this way.

I backtrack slightly, past the restaurant patios, then try and find another cool place to spend some time. I open the door to Magpie Jewelry Gallery, and I am asked if Jenny is my service dog. The use of the word “your” instead of “a” takes me aback slightly, but I decide I like it. I answer the question (“Yes”) and Sam introduces herself. We talk about her shop and the designers she supports, and I choose a crocheted wrap bracelet. As Sam and I chat, I almost buy an adorable mug with a black dog and an orange-and-white cat on it, but that would stretch my budget far too thin. I tell Sam I’m from Edmonton, and she asks if I’m traveling with anyone – no one comes from Edmonton, and a woman came in an hour ago from there. I’m surprised, and ask more questions, and it turns out that Sarah made her way here! As I ring up my purchases (the wrap bracelet and a cool magnet a friend back home will love), Sam tells me that she’s surprised at another coincidence – she supports more than 30 jewelry designers, and Sarah and I chose pieces by the same one. I laugh, wave goodbye, and get ready to head back to the car.

It’s twenty minutes before we’d agreed to meet up, but I’m feeling refreshed and happy and, frankly, tired of my own company. Jenny finds the car like she’s got doggie radar, and wiggles and waggles when she sees Ben waiting for her. He’s feeling refreshed and happy, too, and we make our way into Brockel’s Chocolates for ice cream.

Sarah makes her way to us as we are eating our ice cream bars. Dwight has gotten turned around but has made the acquaintance of someone who’s agreed to walk with him to meet us. As we stand on the hot pavement, we have an impromptu team meeting.

I’ve been looking forward to visiting Garnet, a real ghost town, since we planned this trip. It’s now 3:30, and Garnet’s no fewer than five hours away. I ask if we really want to take that drive to Garnet, or if we want to go back and see Bozeman. It’s no choice at all; we can get into Bozeman by suppertime, then drive for 5 hours to our hotel tomorrow. I’m surprisingly not disappointed by this change of plans.

We pile into the car and, as we hit the road, we compare our notes and impressions and marvel at the places we overlapped.

 

Billings, MT – Bear Canyon Campground
Distance: 136 miles (219 km)
Travel Time: 2.5 hours (including stops)

 

Somehow, Sarah’s bucket of chili has been knocked over and has now spilled into the plastic bag containing it. I’m disappointed by this; it’s our bucket of chili! We laugh about Sarah and I stumbling into the same jewelry shop; apparently Ben and Dwight wound up in the same coffee shop. Dwight people-watched at one of the restaurants I passed more than once. I’m refreshed and happy and I’m so excited we’re going to see Bozeman.

I pull up Nearby Explorer and find a campground near Bozeman. We’re a bit concerned we may not find one, because it’s the Friday of the Labour Day weekend. Phone calls to several campsites go unanswered, and we decide to just cross our fingers and hope for the best.

we pull into Bear Canyon Campground just after 6:00. A sign says there are no vacancies, but Ben goes in to see if there’s space for our tent. There is! We pull into our camp site, pitch the tent, and take off for supper.

There are a couple of things that concern us. Hoshi, our beloved Nissan, has started making rumbling sounds as Ben accelerates. Jenny’s limping slightly on her back legs. One or both of these things could be something minor… or something very serious. But there’s nothing we can do about it at this exact second. We need to eat sooner rather than later.

We end up at a Wendy’s that appears to be having an identity crisis. There’s more than 40 flavors of pop in the fountain machine, many varieties of which I’ve never seen before. Jenny backs away from the machine as it hisses and pops, but takes me to an empty table. We eat our dinner while checking for mechanic shops, surprised by the soothing music that would be more at home than a spa juxtaposed against the college football being shown on TV screens. I’ve been in spas that are less zen than this Wendy’s.

Ben and I brood some, about the car and Miss Jenn. In the middle of dinner, ben goes out to the car to check under the hood, and finds there is no motor oil at all. This buoys my spirits; hopefully we can add oil and all will be well.

And that’s what we do. We drive to the nearest gas station and buy motor oil. ben adds it, waits a moment, then starts the car. As we make our way back to Bear Canyon, our car is happily soaking up the oil and purring like a kitten.

It’s still early – barely 9:00 – but we’re all a little tired from the day. I change into the nightgown I bought at Grandview… and it’s the size of a tent. I laugh and show Ben; even HE might be able to fit in it. But it’s nice and comfortable, so I join the others in curling up in our individual sleeping bags. We close off the day with our respective books or Youtube videos, and each contentedly drift off to sleep.

The Epic Road trip of Awesome Day 3: “I visited the Cascades! I Almost Died… but It was Fun!”

16 Saturday Sep 2017

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Monday, August 28, 2017
Once again, Jenny has decided that it’s her job to wake up EVERYONE in the tent.
At 5:30 in the morning.
She’s happily wriggling and tail-wagging and making a general nuisance of herself, and finally Sarah opens the zipper on the tent and lets Jenny kill some grass. She’s now happy to snuggle with me a few minutes, until she can’t possibly wait for food for one more millisecond.
I crawl out of the tent and walk with Jenny to the car. Dwight is awake after having slept in the car last night. He says it “wasn’t that bad”, but I’m not sure I believe him.
Jenny’s much less beetleheaded now that she’s been fed. Ben, Sarah, Dwight and I deflate air mattresses and roll up sleeping bags and otherwise get ready to face the day and the road ahead.
max REALLY wants to play with Jenny, but Jenny’s disinterested in him; she’s got her eye on the beehives. Mom and I call her back to us and she listens reluctantly, deciding to sniff all the grass she possibly can.
We load Jenny into the car and start packing the roof bag. Mom has some great suggestions on packing it so that more fits in the bag and we take up less room in the trunk and the back seat. Yesterday we asked Dad about our vibrating roof bag, and he suggested knotting the straps so they don’t flap loosely in the wind. We’ve taken his suggestion to heart and are hopeful for a more quiet ride into Washington.
We all pile into the car and follow Mom to a McDonald’s near the border. Mom’s not a coffee drinker, so if we want some as soon as possible, you can’t beat a Canadian McDonald’s for good road coffee.
I’m annoyed by an email that I’m trying to respond to, but my phone won’t take my password. I spend far too much time fiddling with it, drinking my coffee and wanting to curse Google for being annoying.
It’s 8:00, and the Aldergrove border crossing is open. We say goodbye to Mom, thank her for her hospitality, and pile into our car.

Aldergrove, BC – Seattle, Washington
Distance: 186 km
Travel Time: 2.5 hours (including stops)

 

We pull up to the border crossing at Aldergrove and hand over our passports. because Dwight is not a Canadian citizen, he has to get further processed through customs, so we have to pull over and walk into the building to talk to customs officers. It’s been years – maybe decades – since I’ve had to stop when driving across the border. The customs officer is friendly and chatty while Dwight’s paperwork is processed. He asks where we’re spending tonight, and when we tell him we’re staying at Cascade Peaks Campground, his enthusiasm is obvious. “Oh! I went through the Cascades once!” he says cheerily. “I almost died… but it was fun!”

After a brief pause, we all clamber for the story. He tells us about when he was moving to take his current job, and he had to move a bunch of his stuff. He didn’t realize his truck wasn’t in the right gear for the curvy mountainous terrain, and he white-knuckled it most of the way through until he realized he could fix the problem. He cracks a joke about his life flashing before his eyes, but at least the outside scenery was great.

We all laugh, collect our passports, and head back to the car.

Since gasoline is much cheaper in the States than in Canada, we fill up the car. While Ben’s filling the gas tank, I take out my phone and swap my Canadian Sim card for a USA one… that’s too small! By the time I realize my mistake, the American sim card has lodged itself into the sim card reader on my phone, and I can’t get it out!

Sarah tries to see if she can put one in her phone, but her phone is locked to her carrier. Ben tries to get the card out of my phone, but it’s lodged in there good. Of the three sim cards we purchased, only one (Ben’s), it seems, will be used in the very near future.

The first thing we notice after crossing the border is the amount of traffic circles (roundabouts). Every mile for five miles has another roundabout, and (unlike back home) everyone seems to know how to drive on them.

The second thing?

“Cheap weed!” Ben cries from the driver’s seat. We all laugh, wondering if you have to be a resident to get some. We keep driving. There’s another pot shop… and another down the way. We pass a Walmart and Ben regrets not stopping. Someone cracks a joke about him driving past the only existing Walmart in the USA. Ben laughs and drives on.

Sarah spots a creepy-looking handmade sign for Giggles the Clown Fun Park, and we somehow find it hilarious. As we drive down the highway, we read out signs of businesses and cities and schools, wrapping our tongues around many words with Ws and Tcs and Ms.

We pull in to one of the parking areas at Pike Place Market and are glad to stretch our legs. Ben grabs his camera, and I strap a GoPro to Jenny’s back. We haven’t made it twenty feet before the camera – which in any previous testing attempts has tilted slightly to the right – has tilted to the left so far that it’s literally resting against Jenny’s side. I tighten and reconfigure the straps and keep on going.

We stop at a coffee shop for coffee and water, then walk down the narrow, crowded streets. We step into meat markets, produce shops, and Jenny tries to take me into three cafes. A friend told me to find a spot with the giant cookies, and I’m thrilled to find one so easily. I buy two cookies (that are the size of my face and are immediately dubbed “face cookies”), get frustrated with the GoPro again, and put it and the cookies in Ben’s camera bag.

Pike Place Sign

 

We make it to the fish market, where we stand just outside and listen to a busker with an acoustic guitar. he’s singing a Foo Fighters song but his voice sounds more like Green Day. I like it.

The market is bustling, with fishmongers throwing fish to the customers who order them. The atmosphere is chaotic, and we move away after a few minutes.

We stop at a Target store to see if my sim card can be removed by a phone technician. The clerk is hesitant to do anything, stating unconvincingly that he doesn’t want to ruin my phone. The fact that I told him that the phone is basically a tablet now doesn’t change his mind. So we pick up eyebrow tweezers and a few other items we need for the road.

Sarah likes the look of this pub down the street. We walk down and enter Elysian Bar, an amazingly open space with wooden floors and tables and high ceilings. Ben asks if he can take pictures, and he is told he can. While we wait for our lunch, Ben teases the sim card out of the card reader with the eyebrow tweezers and I attempt to re-insert it (with an adapter this time), no joy. I try my Canadian sim card, and no success there, either. My phone is effectively not a phone anymore, and I wonder how useful it will be. But I need to let it go; nothing I can do about it now. We order our food – smaller portions that are still massive – and enjoy the atmosphere.

Elysian Brewery has great Atmosphere

 

It’s 2:00 now, time to hit the road; we want to beat rush hour out of Seattle.

 

Seattle, Washington – Mount St. helen’s Visitor’s Center

Distance: 122 miles (196 km)

Travel Time: 2 hours, 15 minutes

We eat the “face cookies” on the way to the Mount St. Helen’s visitors center. We enjoyed our time at Pike Place, but definitely found it crowded and congested in very small space. Glad to be back on the road, we settle in and hope for some views of the mountains. Unfortunately, wildfires from BC (and other areas as well) have given the air a hazy tint, making the view of the mountains much less majestic.

We pull in to the visitors centre just after 4:30. A wall of heat greets us as we exit the car. It’s a short walk from the car to the building, but even so it feels like we’re breathing fire.

The centre closes at 5:00. We are told that we can pay the $5/person entry fee and see the end of the film that is playing, or we can browse the souvenir shop for a couple minutes and then see the exhibits for free before closing. We take the second option, and I’m thrilled to find a Mount St. helens key chain and a badge for Jenny’s travel blanket. The film has concluded, so we walk down and view the exhibits, seeing the progression of the eruption. It is sobering, and the building around me has a hushed sense of reverence to it.

We hear an announcement that the doors are closing, so we head outside into the heat and get ready to head to our campsite for the night.

 

Mount St. Helen’s Visitors Center – Cascade Peaks Campground

Distance: 80 miles (130 km)

Travel time: 2 hours (including stops)

 

Ben’s phone doesn’t have good GPS service right now so he asks me to locate a grocery store. We need food for tonight and propane for the camp stove. I load up Nearby Explorer on my “semi-intelligent brick” (as we’ve affectionately dubbed my phone), and give directions to the nearest grocery store. We walk in and notice a lot of snack items, but no propane and nothing we can use for supper. We ask for recommendations and are given slightly complicated directions to a larger grocery store only a mile away. We find everything we need – propane for the stove, everything to make burgers for supper, adult beverages to go with those burgers, bacon and eggs for breakfast tomorrow – and take it all to the cashier. We know we’re in a small town, where you stop and chat with your friends and neighbors. A couple of people beside us say hello to each other and carry on a conversation as though they are in a meeting hall or a county fair. It’s quaint and charming, and I am enchanted.

We load up the cooler with our newly-purchased food and head to our camp site. at the main building there’s a weak wifi signal, so I shoot a couple of messages to a couple of people I had planned to meet along the way. We are given directions to a site that’s close to the washrooms and showers and we drive over to it.

The burgers are made as the crickets start to sing their evening song. The mountain air feels cool and clear to me, though there’s still a visible smoky haze. We each take a few minutes to just be alone before we come back together as a group to enjoy our burgers with macaroni salad and beer.

It’s time to set up the tent. We borrowed this one from a friend, and we’re thrilled that it seems to sleep six people (four people and one dog take up a lot of space). Sarah and I start to put it up, clipping the poles to the tent and the fly to the poles. The tent looks huge, and Sarah and I are pretty convinced that there’s plenty of space. We bring out the air mattresses…

And they all still don’t fit.

I am frustrated.

The obvious solution is to get rid of our double air mattress in favor of something smaller, but that doesn’t solve our immediate problem. It’s 9:00 at night and nothing in the immediate viscinity would be open. It isn’t fair to have someone sleep in the car again, so we decide to deflate the bigger air mattresses as much as possible, and we cram them all in. The double mattress has enough air in it to feel like a water bed any time someone moves. I take a deep breath of clear mountain air and hope for a restful sleep as the crickets sing their lullaby.

The Epic Road trip of Awesome Day 2: “Is that a Watermelon, or a Tomato?”

13 Wednesday Sep 2017

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Sunday, August 27, 2017
Jenny shuffles around on the floor and lets out a whimper. I bury myself under the blankets, nice and warm, eager for another hour (or three) of sleep.
But Jenny will not be silenced. I check the time on my phone. It’s 5:30 in Richmond, BC, which means it’s 6:30 in Edmonton. My dog… the Labrador alarm clock.
I quickly throw on yesterday’s clothes, swipe a baggie from the roll by the front door, and take Jenny outside to answer nature’s call.
Happy now, Jenny permits me to curl up under those blankets beside my husband, but sleep eludes me. I listen to my audiobook for an hour or so, then hear movement in the kitchen.
My dad is awake, getting breakfast started. He’s amused by Ayce, who has curled up with Dwight on the sofa bed. Both seem pleased as punch, so we try and stay as quiet as possible to let them sleep.
One by one, we all wake up and help with breakfast. Whether it’s grabbing food items from the fridge or freezer, cubing cheese, prepping coffee, or using the stove, most hands are on deck. While breakfast is cooking, Ben, Sarah, Dwight and I sit on Dad’s back porch, watching Jenny demolish two sticks in the span of fifteen minutes and then decide that one of Dad’s bushes needs “pruning.”
We gather around the dining table, realize there’s not enough coffee, then someone goes to make more. We eat our fill of an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink breakfast and make plans for the day.
Dad and Karen head off to church, and the four of us have the house to ourselves. It’s nice to have some unstructured time. We read some, chat some, and head down to Steveston for a walk along the boardwalk, some shopping and some coffee.

We pull up to a parking meter that won’t take our cash. Sarah buys three hours worth of parking, and Dwight and I stand by the car, our faces toward the sun. One of us makes a comment that, unlike up north in Edmonton, we can look toward the sun without it hurting our eyes, allowing us to leave our sunglasses behind.

We stop in a souvenir store where Ben buys a magnet that has a joke about financial responsibility being unimaginative. There’s a consignment clothing store down the block, so Sarah and I step inside, generally dragging the guys along for the ride. A unique dress catches my fancy, and I end up spending far too much time (according to Ben… okay, me, too) trying on clothes. Unfortunately, nothing fits quite right, so I leave empty-handed.

We’re all a little hungry, so we make our way to Blenz, a coffee shop my dad visits frequently. After purchasing our drinks, Dad and Karen meet us and we sit outside where we chat and enjoy the beautiful day.

Our stomachs are rumbling, so we walk down to the Buck & Ear. It’s a sports bar that doesn’t feel like a sports bar. We crowd around a table and devour our sandwiches, salads and (in my case) fish tacos. Dad and Karen generously treat us, and we head back to our cars.

When we pull in to Dad and Karen’s carport, Sarah exclaims, “Is that a watermelon… or a tomato?” Karen’s been growing tomatoes this year, and this one is massive!

Jenny and I make our way inside, where Jenny promptly empties Ayce’s toybox of all the toys we’ve put away and settles on the loudest toy in there – the squeaker ball. Ayce decides that barking at her doesn’t phase her, so he toodles out the doggie door and ignores her instead.

Dad and Karen have recently returned from a trip to England and Sweden. They have brought souvenirs home with them (like tea from a teashop, Swedish dark chocolate, prints of trains for Ben). In addition to my no-tattoo-allowed generous birthday gift from Dad and Karen, I open a wooden box to store my newly-acquired tea, and a bracelet my father made that jangles every time I move my arm. For reasons both spacial and practical, we leave the tea and the box behind because we’re not sure about space in the car, and we’re equally not sure if we can take them (the tea in particular) across the border. We thank them profusely, then settle in for a post-lunch nap.

It’s hard to describe how things go south. Ben and Sarah had made plans to meet their family friend – their “uncle” – in the afternoon, and my mom was going to host us for dinner in Abbotsford at 5:30. I start to get anxious when Ben and Sarah haven’t left and it’s 3:30; I hope they have a great visit with their uncle, and there’s someone coming to dinner at Mom’s that I haven’t seen in years. There’s no reason we couldn’t do both, right? They take off, and I load up the roof bag for a quick load-and-go.

I don’t handle this well. I send texts, I pace, I get angry. I make watermelons out of tomatoes. Dad offers to drive me over to Mom’s and I tell him that’s not his responsibility. When Ben and Sarah arrive back at 5:45, I am fuming, and so is Ben. Ben, Sarah and I meet on the back patio. We make our feelings and expectations clear, and nothing really gets resolved. We load the roof bag on to Hoshi, put Jenny in the back seat, and hug Dad and Karen goodbye.

 

Richmond, BC – Abbotsford, BC

Distance: 67 km

Travel Time: 1 hour

 

For me, it’s a tense drive to Mom’s place. We make it there by 7:00 PM, and we climb out of the car. Mom greets us, smiling. It’s quiet and peaceful here; you’d never know that you’re not too far off of a major roadway.

I expect Jenny and Max – mom’s Bouvier – to pick up their intense doggie love affair where it left off last year. Jenny has other ideas; there’s SO much to explore!

We get a tour of the property, Jenny and Max generally leading the way. Jenny is fascinated by the chickens, though she makes no move to do anything about them. When we walk past the barn, Jenny discovers the blackberry bushes, eating only the ripe berries and wagging her tail merrily. Mom tells us they’ve had coyotes in the area, so after dark I plan on keeping Jenny close.

The makings for pulled pork sandwiches and potato salad sit on a folding table behind the house. A cooler is well-stocked with beverages both alcoholic and carbonated, and we sit outside and eat and drink and chat with Mom and her partner (who, among many other things, was a chef in a past life).

Mom has a tent that she offers to set up for us so we don’t have to set up the one we’re borrowing. we take the roof bag off of Hoshi to get our backpacks and sleeping bags and start blowing up air mattresses…

And they won’t all fit in the tent.

Ben and I have a double air mattress, we bought Dwight a single, and Sarah has a mat. They will not all fit in the tent, no matter what we try.

A team meeting is called. The only viable option is for one of us to sleep in the car. With Ben and Sarah driving, we all agree that they need the flat horizontal surface in the tent. It’s down to Dwight and me. Dwight says this is a great adventure, and besides, he can sleep anywhere. I feel a pang of guilt, ask him if he’s sure.

I toss him a pillow.

While the guys are getting ready for bed, I get a chance to take Sarah aside. We rationally air out our feelings from earlier and bury the hatchet. The awkwardness for me is gone, and I’m glad of it; I can sleep better tonight.

I crawl into the tent with Jenny, Ben and Sarah. We can hear distant calls of coyotes and far-off road traffic. I hope Dwight is sleeping well in the car as I drift off to my own peaceful sleep.