Tag Archives: National Parks

Junior Ranger at Mt Rainier

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My niece kept forgetting where we were and saying how excited she was to be at Mt Everest, and she asked me once every seven minutes about s’mores — “Can we make s’mores now? Can I make a s’more to take back to my mom? How many s’mores can I eat tonight? Can we have s’mores for breakfast tomorrow?” This, my friends, is what it’s like to camp with a seven-year-old. This, in fact, is one of the best parts of being an aunt.

our campsite at Ohanapecosh

My sister has this ridiculously awesome job that sends her to cities around the U.S. to meet with research partners, including twice yearly trips to Seattle. Last September and this September, she’s also brought along my niece on her business trips, and I’ve driven over to the west side of the Cascades and hung out with Patience in the glorious fall sunshine of Seattle while her mother works. Last year we went to the Pike Place Market at least twice a day (my niece is such a hoot — she doesn’t ask for candy or toys, she begs for fresh fruit and flowers), hung out in various coffee shops (this kid really loves coffee shops, I think because she loves talking to new people and coffee shops are full of people), visited the children’s museum, stood at the bottom of the Space Needle and stared up (because this aunt is afraid of heights and wasn’t about to get on that elevator), took the ferry to Bainbridge Island (twice!), and walked the streets of downtown Seattle hand in hand while Patience sang at the top of her lungs and garnered applause from delighted strangers (no tips, people? come on!).

flowers from Pike Place Market, outside the original Starbucks

On this year’s visit I decided we should venture outside of the city and see Mt Rainier National Park as part of Patience’s trip. Her parents and I took her camping last Easter in North Carolina, the grandest adventure of her young life, and I figured she shouldn’t miss an opportunity to see the tallest mountain in the Cascades. The weather was fine, so in addition to driving out to play at the park, we also decided to camp for a night on the Ohanapecosh River. We pitched a tent, built a fire, cooked “the best mac and cheese ever in the world” (according to Patience, and who am I to argue?), and read library books by flashlight. It was wonderful.

hiking at Grove of the Patriarchs

The visitor centers at the park are open for a couple more weeks, until they close for the season at the first of October, so we also spent a little time talking to a park ranger and finding out what Patience would need to do to earn her Junior Ranger badge from the national park. The ranger gave her an activity book and instructions for which pages to complete for her age level in order to earn the badge. Over the next afternoon and morning, Patience completed a scavenger hunt, worked on sentence scrambles about wilderness safety, logged details about our hike through Grove of the Patriarchs, and told the story of our camping trip through her own artistic interpretation in colored pencil. She learned about the “10 essentials” to take along on a trip into the wilderness and insisted that I carry a bag of nuts and bottles of water on our 20 minute walk to a hot spring the second morning, just in case, because the book said you should always have extra food and water. I decided it would be easier to fill my pockets with nuts than to explain that if something happened to us that morning we were still close enough to the campsite that I could holler for help — better to reinforce the rules of the “10 essentials” at this stage.

junior ranger swearing-in ceremony

Thank you, Suzie, for bringing along Patience and allowing us to have a fantastic adventure at Mt Rainier.

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Crater Lake

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A couple of weeks ago I went with friends to camp at Crater Lake in Oregon — well, we actually camped at nearby Diamond Lake, but our purpose in driving down there was to see Crater Lake. I’ve wanted to post a blog with a few photos since I got back, but time gets away from me these days. I miss blogging regularly, but I also have enjoyed all the other things going on in my life (both creative and personal) that have been taking up my time and kept me from posting.

So here they are, a few photos from the beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, amazing, jaw-dropping, breath-taking corner of God’s creation known as Crater Lake.

Our first view of Crater Lake after entering the park from the north entrance

So much BLUE!

My favorite photo from a day of driving around the rim

View of the Phantom Ship volcanic rock formation

Laura, after our hike down to the lake’s surface that was supposed to be comparable to 65 flights of stairs — we decided it’s not nearly as bad as 65 flights of stairs sounds.

The water is warm after your feet have gone numb from the cold.

 

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Emory Peak in the Chisos Mountains

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The day after Thanksgiving in 1957, Bob and Ann piled the kids in the station wagon and drove from Sanderson, Texas, to Big Bend National Park. Sanderson to Jacksboro was too far a drive for the family to make for the holiday, so they stayed down on the border and made a true holiday of it by visiting the park.

Santa Elena Canyon, 1957 (notice the height of the people standing by the river, on the right)

For the last leg of my West Texas Interlude trip with Pat and Randy, we ended up at the Chisos Mountain Lodge in the national park — Bob and Ann had made a day trip of it, going all the way to Santa Elena Canyon on the west side of the park and back to Sanderson in one day, but we opted to stop for a couple of nights in the mountains. Shortly after we arrived, we went out for a 1.5 mile loop hike near the lodge and visitor’s center, taking in views of the Window below us. As we set out on the loop, we paused at the map posted at the trailhead, and I recalled a vivid memory of standing in that place with Jen and Janel a year and a half ago, after we’d finished our 5 mile hike to the Window and back. I remembered looking at the dotted lines on the map for the South Rim and Emory Peak and hoping that I would get to come back and see more of the park.

And in that moment of remembrance, I decided that I needed to make it happen. I needed to climb up to the top of Emory Peak. So the next morning, I took my laptop out of my backpack, put in a few snacks and a couple of water bottles instead, and I set off. I tried not to focus too much on the signs posted several times in the first mile of my trip, warning that this is bear and mountain lion country.

I’ll be very honest — I hope I never, ever see a bear or mountain lion. My fear of them is very rational (they’re predators!), so it’s not at all a phobia. Pretty much every step of the way to the top and back I was certain that something was about to lunge for me from the forest. I heard growling a few times (maybe). I also heard something swishing along in the brush beside me once or twice, in step with me, stalking me, stopping when I stopped. It turned out to be my ponytail swishing against the top of my backpack, but for a few moments I was sure my time was up.

Texas Mandrone and agave, on the Pinnacles Trail leading to Emory Peak Trail

For more than an hour, I hiked without seeing another soul coming or going. I was beginning to wonder if I’d made a mistake in coming up there on my own — Pat and Randy and I all felt that it would be crowded enough on the last weekend of spring break that I wouldn’t actually be hiking alone all day. Nine miles is a long way by yourself, just you and the predators. During that first hour I sang to myself and the trees and the Mexican bluejays that hopped along the trail in front of me. After that, I leapfrogged with a couple of families and passed a few other people on the way to and from the top, solitary no more. My thoughts changed from certainty that I was being stalked, to wondering will my size in comparison with the others make me easy prey, or will it make me look less appetizing (I don’t exactly have a lot of meat on my bones)?

Four-and-a-half miles later, I reached the top of Emory Peak. Technically, I didn’t go all the way to the highest point. The last 20 or 25 feet are a scramble up some rocks where you get a 360 degree view — but I and a few others in the groups I’d arrived with were satisfied to watch the brave few climb up there while we enjoyed our slightly-less-than 360 degree view. I am unashamed that I only made it to 7800 feet and not 7825.

view from Emory Peak

I sat down on a rock to snack and rest and chat with the others before heading back down, when I realized I got a cell signal for the first time since we’d arrived in the park. I had received text and voice messages, and with my phone to my ear I heard the guy next to me say, “You’re getting a signal up here? Is that why you made the hike?”

“Yeah, I came up here to check my voicemail.”

view of the Chihuahuan Desert from Emory Peak

I made it back down to the lodge without seeing any bears or mountain lions, nor any prickly pear in bloom (almost, but not quite). Sitting at the restaurant patio with cold drinks later in the afternoon, Randy told me about this article about a mountain lion attacking a 6-year-old kid in February, causing them to close all the Chisos Mountain trails while they tracked the lion — which they didn’t find. Turns out the kid was attacked between the lodge and the restaurant. I later dug around on the NPS website and found a listing of mountain lion sightings in Big Bend for the month of February — one of the seven sightings for the month was at “Chisos Mountains Lodge, room 206, top of stairs.” I was sitting on my bed in room 215 when I read this. I guess I’m just as safe on Emory Peak as I am on the way to breakfast.

(For anyone who ended up at this blog because you’re looking to hike Emory Peak, I did the 9 mile round-trip hike with a 2500 foot elevation gain in 5.5 hours — and I highly recommend it, especially if you’ve already been on a lot of the other trails in the park. It’s amazing to stand at the top and look down at the places where you’ve already hiked.)

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Mt Rainier and My National Parks Year in Review

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view of Mt Rainier from White Pass Scenic Byway

Over the weekend I went to Seattle to visit my sister and niece. Since the weather was gorgeous (first time to reach 80 degrees in Seattle this year) and I’m on the last week before my national parks pass expires, I decided to drive the long way from here to there, through Mt Rainier National Park — or Mt Rainy, as my niece calls it.

view of Mt Rainier from Sunrise Point in the national park

view from Sunrise Point, in the opposite direction from Mt Rainier

It’s been a fun year, and I hope to have a reason to buy another annual pass soon. To celebrate a great year of parks, here’s a recap of stories from the blog:

Last July I took my first ride in a bush plane and experienced Alaskan mosquitos in Kobuk Valley National Park.

In September, I bought the annual pass at Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado and drove as far as I could on the Trail Ridge Road.

I fell in love with West Texas on a camping trip in Big Bend and Guadalupe Mountains last October, but missed out on the opportunity to camp in White Sands National Monument in New Mexico.

On the drive to Washington in January, I stopped at Saguaro in Arizona and Joshua Tree in California for a quick intro to a couple of desert southwest parks.

I saw the end of the Lewis and Clark trail at the national historical park in Washington and Oregon in March — and the beginning of the trail at Harpers Ferry in West Virginia in April. I squeezed in a drive through Shenandoah National Park in Virginia on that April trip east, as well.

When my mom came to visit in July, we saw the Whitman Mission National Historical Site near Walla Walla, a couple of bonus parks in Canada (Kootenay in British Columbia and Banff in Alberta), and had a gorgeous drive through Glacier National Park in Montana.

I think I got my money’s worth this year.

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Sandra McCracken Playlist in Montana

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“Isn’t Montana called Big Sky Country or something like that?”

“I think so. Reminds me of a song.”

And so, I had a playlist by Sandra McCracken cycling on my iPod on my drive with my mother through Glacier National Park.

All of the walls in the rooms of the house / Are the usual shape and size / I’m just a person who can’t be for certain that I’m gonna fit inside / Oh, I’ve been tryin’ and tryin’ but it makes me tired…. / You are the water / I am an iceberg / Under a big blue sky (“Big Blue Sky”)

Many Glacier Valley, the eastern side of Glacier National Park

When you go out, when you come home / Like a hedge, like a shield, / I’ll be your guardian / When you are afraid, look out to the mountains / Look out to the mountains / To the One who keeps you safe (“Guardian”)

St Mary Lake, Glacier National Park

There’s a stain on my hands / Of gasoline and sand / And night comes again without asking… / Change comes like the splitting of wood / Like the plow blade turns the soil on the ground / And the change comes like it should / You gotta die before you live / Something’s gotta give for you to find / What comes after (“Traincar”)

driving the eastern part of Going-to-the-Sun Road

The whole field of vision fades beneath me now / And the houses spread for a million miles in this gray town / And the weight of glory, if you held it in your hand / It would pass right through you, so now’s your chance / Would you fall to pieces… / In the high countries? (“The High Countries”)

Jackson Glacier

You can hold your world inside / You can scream out loud / Or you can fight these enemies / And kid fears tonight if you want to / You can drive your car out to L.A. / You can lose yourself just to make your way / You can change your mind / Or change your name if you want to / But you’re under lock and key / All by yourself / And sometimes you just need somebody else (“Lock and Key”)

the road through Logan Pass still closed for winter on July 9

Such beautiful lyrics to ponder as we drove through God’s glorious creation. If you’d like to listen for yourself (and I recommend you do) to Sandra McCracken’s lyrics and music, you can find her albums for sale in the store on her website.

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2,060 miles

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2,060 miles is how far I drove on my road trip through the Northwest U.S. and two Canadian provinces this past couple of weeks. My mom and I pulled into the driveway here in Kennewick late this afternoon, and might I just say it — I’m tired.

First, we went to Kootenay National Park in Beautiful British Columbia (as the province is called on their license plates). The Canadian Rockies are stunning — they seem more majestic and jaw-dropping than the Colorado Rockies, why is that?

We also saw a grizzly munching on some flowers on the side of the road — equally as stunning. We didn’t get out of the car, but man, my heart started racing while my mom quickly took the picture. Thirty yards is still too close for me and a grizzly.

You just keep munching those flowers where you are...

Next was a quick trip to a few spots in the northern part of Banff National Park in Alberta. Herbert Lake was my favorite area in all of Banff, including the two more popular lakes we visited later in the week. Herbert Lake is a bit neglected by tourists, requires walking a short distance through a mosquito-infested forest section, but the view is so very, very worth it. As I was trying to take this shot, my mom pointed out that the tree I was standing next to had scratch marks on it and a large bear-shaped footprint in the mud underneath it. I snapped the photo quickly and went back to lock myself in the car.

Herbert Lake in Banff National Park, Alberta

We spent our week in Calgary working with kids in the community and with the children whose parents were attending the Canadian National Baptist Convention. I’ll save the space here and write more about that in a later post.

After the convention, our group went to Banff for the day and saw some of the more popular spots: Lake Louise, Moraine Lake, Johnston Canyon. It snowed on us a bit at Moraine Lake, and we were pelted with freezing rain (on July 9!), but the colors of the water and expanse of the mountains and glaciers were so very worth the cold and wet.

windy, cold, and wet at Moraine Lake in Banff National Park

On the drive up to Alberta, I studied the atlas a bit and realized that driving home to the Tri-Cities through Montana wouldn’t be that much further than our original route. So we ended up heading south on the return trip and spent a long, long day driving through Glacier National Park. Words cannot describe the beauty of the eastern part of this park. I’ll post a separate entry on this day of our journey, as well.

When my mom and I got back to Kennewick, we discussed what to do with her last two days before flying back to Texas. Since we had enjoyed all our driving so much, we decided to keep at it. A quick visit with a few friends in town and we were off again, this time west to Portland. We spent the first day stopping at waterfalls along the Columbia River Gorge and trying to get as close as we could to a good view of Mt. Hood.

Mt. Hood, the highest point in Oregon

And then we spent a cold, rainy morning walking around the arboretum and rose garden in Portland, before checking out Powell’s City of Books and making the drive back to Kennewick.

Excuse me, I need to go sleep for 15 hours and recover from this trip.

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History and Hiking in West Virginia

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Before my niece’s spring break started last week, I made use of the first few days of my time on the east coast to drive up to Martinsburg, West Virginia, to visit some good friends. These are the same friends I stayed with last summer in Kotzebue, Alaska, and it’s been a whole seven months since I’ve seen them — definitely time for a visit!

On my first day in Martinsburg, the three girls in the family had school, so their mother and I spent a quiet morning at the house before going out for lunch and shopping in the historic downtown area. Pretty much every old town in the east has a historic downtown, some more historic than others. Martinsburg was fun, but we got quite a bit more history on the second day of my visit.

The girls were out of school for the day, so we packed a picnic and headed out to Charles Town and Harpers Ferry. After a walking tour of Charles Town (including the home of Charles Washington, brother of George, and the courthouse where John Brown was tried and sentenced to be hanged), we began another walking tour through Harpers Ferry National Historical Park. We didn’t realize it before we made our plans to go, but the day following our visit would be the 150th anniversary celebration for the beginning of the Civil War — and Harpers Ferry was a pretty big deal at the beginning of the Civil War. Aside from a few tents sent up for the next day’s events, the town seemed pretty quiet and subdued, and we enjoyed walking up and down the old roads and alleys and looking in the historic stone buildings at the various museums and displays.

This day trip ended up being a bookend of sorts to my trip through Oregon a few weeks back. On that trip, I went to the Lewis and Clark National Historical Park at the site of the Corps of Discovery’s winter camp on the Pacific Ocean before they returned to report their findings to President Jefferson. What a pleasant surprise to stumble upon a Lewis and Clark exhibit in Harpers Ferry, the town where Lewis bought provisions and arms for their expedition! I also got to snap a photo of this sign for the Lewis and Clark Trail that I see all the time on the highway in the Tri-Cities, Washington, area where I live. Pretty fun to have visited both the beginning and the end of the trail.

We had another fun surprise when we looked at the map of the town to plan our hiking route for the afternoon. All we knew before going to Harpers Ferry was that there are trails in the area and that we should go see Jefferson Rock overlooking the Shenandoah River.view from Jefferson Rock

It turns out that the trail to Jefferson Rock is part of the Appalachian Trail, and not much further from the rock is the Appalachian Trail Visitor Center at Harpers Ferry, “the psychological halfway point” of the 2,181 mile trail from Georgia to Maine. So we went to the rock, then to the visitors center, where we chatted for a while with the volunteers at the front desk. They showed us the color coded notebooks with photos of all of the hikers who have done the trail since the 1970s. They’re just getting into the peak season for the visitors center — as of April 19, five thru-hikers had already made it to Harpers Ferry from Georgia, but no one from the north yet this year. Since we had three young girls with us, the volunteers were eager to show us the photo of a 9-year-old boy who hiked the entire AT last year, halfway with his mom and halfway with his dad. Man, I wasn’t anywhere near that focused as a 9-year-old.at the AT visitors center

So, within the last month I have walked three miles of the Pacific Crest Trail and about two miles of the Appalachian Trail. Just 2,647 more miles until I finish the PCT and 2,179 for the AT, if anyone is keeping track (and I am).

 

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The Desert Southwest

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on the loop road in Saguaro National Park

Chihuahuan, Sonoran, Mojave — I’ve seen them all.  And I could actually tell a difference between the three deserts.  Don’t ask me for a comprehensive report of those differences, but I could at least give you a positive ID on ocotillo, saguaro, chollo, and  the Joshua Tree.

Our original plan on the first leg of this winter road trip from Texas to Washington was to head towards the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, but that idea got scrapped when the National Parks Service website reported ice on the roads in the park the day before we left.  Then about 30 minutes (literally — I’m not using my gift of exaggeration here) before we left Fort Worth, we found out that there was ice on the road to Amarillo, which meant we couldn’t go through north Texas that day.

And my dad’s flight from Washington back to Texas next week meant that we really needed to leave that day.  So, we headed for southern Arizona via El Paso.  Back through West Texas, this time with my dad narrating the journey with stories from his childhood.  It’s definitely not the direct route, going to Washington state by driving first to the Mexican border, but I’m glad we ended up doing it.  A little tired as I type this at the end of Day Three of driving, but glad to see West Texas with my dad.

El Paso, I don’t know, I really think I could live there.  They’ve got good tacos.  From there we drove along the border of New Mexico and Mexico, into southern Arizona and through Saguaro National Park.  New desert.  New cactus.  From a distance the saguaro seems to be the steeple of a church on the mountain ridges, but closer up you can see it is the created, raising arms of praise to the Creator.

We spent the night in Phoenix and then headed west to southern California and Joshua Tree National Park for a drive through the huge rocks and yucca.  Bakersfield tonight, somewhere north of Sacramento tomorrow, somewhere in Oregon on Friday, and Tri-Cities, Washington, on Saturday, Lord willing.

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Camping Observations from West Texas

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our campsite at Guadalupe Mountains

The final entry from the road trip series “The West Texas Idea”

I thought it would be fun to end this series of blogs on my road trip in West Texas by listing some observations about camping that Janel, Jen, and I made over the course of our trip.  I don’t think I’ve ever included a bullet-pointed list in my blog before.  Enjoy this “first” for me; it may also be a last.

You see lots of different types of campers at national park campgrounds, especially if you plant yourself and observe the comings and goings for several days at one campsite.  Here are some of the people we saw at Big Bend and Guadalupe Mountains:

The Block Party Family—They camped in a tent, not an RV, but otherwise they had pretty much the same amenities you would find in a suburban home.  Mom covered the wooden picnic table with a tablecloth at each meal, and she set up a clothesline from the table to the grill.  Their site was lit up with several lanterns at night, and at first glance I thought maybe they had strung twinkle lights in the trees for what appeared to be a party to which all the other campers in our campground had been invited.  Nope, that’s just all their lanterns.

The Bikers—On our first night at Big Bend, the site nearest to us was occupied by three middle-aged men on Harleys.  Unlike other bikers we saw on this trip (and we saw a lot of bikers), these guys weren’t pulling their bikes on trailers behind an SUV from place to place and then riding through the scenic parts of the park.  All of their camping gear fit with them on their bikes.  I was impressed.  Early that first morning, I waited for the coffee to boil in our percolator and watched them pack up their site, fighting off the covetousness in my heart over one bright red retro bike in particular.  When they were ready to go, one of the guys announced to the other two, “Time to wake up the camp,” and they started their engines and were off with a roar.  “Well, girls,” I said to Jen and Janel, “we just missed our chance to see the park on the back of those bikes.”

The Germans in a Van—I also had a problem coveting the van of a German couple we ran into a couple of times at Guadalupe Mountains.  I keep threatening to buy a van to live out of instead of finding a house to rent, and this German set-up would be perfect.  They actually brought the van over from Germany, and who knows where all they have already gone in the States—probably more places than I’ve been.  They parked near our tent site and planned to stay the night, and by craning our necks as inconspicuously as possible we were able to see in the side door as they were getting stuff out to cook dinner.  Surprisingly, the van was very organized inside.  A place for everything, and everything in its place—made me want that van even more.  Jen got a better view of the interior when our lighter gave out while trying to get the burner on our camp stove lit for dinner, and she went over to borrow some matches.  Sadly, when the campground host made her rounds that evening, she declared the van to belong in the RV category, and the Germans had to move from the tent section to the RV section, which is much less picturesque.

The Americans in a Minivan—On our last night at Big Bend, we observed a couple camping in a minivan in the tent site directly between us and the toilet.  With three girls in our group, there was a lot of walking back and forth from our tent to the toilet, so we made quite a few observations of this couple.  It didn’t take us long to figure out that they hadn’t really planned their trip.  I’m not sure how one ends up this far south on the Mexican border without planning, but somehow they did.  They slept in the minivan that night, and the next morning we were quite intrigued by the items we saw outside the minivan at their picnic table: approximately 15 bags of chips, a ladder, and a brand new electric coffee maker that I’m guessing came from a WalMart in Midland.  Janel said she saw the lady walking back from the bathroom holding the empty coffee maker in one hand and its box in the other.  It never occurred to me to bring an electric coffee maker to the park and try to plug it in in the bathroom—but who am I to judge?

In addition to our observations about the people around us, we also noted a few lessons we learned over the course of our trip.  First, and props to my dad for this one, it’s good to organize all your miscellaneous gear and cooking utensils in an action packer-type box that you can take in and out of the back of your vehicle easily when you’re car camping.  I use the word organize loosely—our stuff started out organized in the box, but by the end of the week we were throwing it back in the box however we could make it fit and still get the lid to shut.  But at least it made it much easier to get stuff in and out of the car than if we were throwing it directly into the backseat instead.

Second, car camping with just girls is OK, but if you’re going to do any backcountry camping, it’s probably better to have a boyfriend along.  I don’t mean a friend who’s a boy, because chances are he isn’t going to feel obligated to carry any of your junk for you.  But from personal experience, and observation of a couple we met who camped near the top of Guadalupe Peak, when backpacks and boyfriends are involved, I know who’s going to end up carrying 50 pounds of gear for bragging rights and who’s going to have a daypack with a change of clothes and a toothbrush.

I loved camping and hiking with Jen and Janel, but they never would carry my stuff for me.

And lastly, even though they might make you move your uber cool German van to the RV section, we learned it’s good to make friends with the campground hosts.  Partly because they might loan you a lighter when you accidentally break the matches from your new German friends and still can’t get your camp stove lit for dinner.  Partly because they have lots of stories to tell from all the places they’ve been since retiring.  And partly because they get lonely and bored living in these remote parks, and it’s a nice gesture to talk to lonely, bored people.

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