Tag Archives: Travel

A New Old Birthday Camping Tradition

Posted on by

A few months have passed since I posted a blog about travel, or about anything not related to my recently released books (You’ve heard, right? Check out the links in the left sidebar.). A few things have changed in these months — I moved back to Texas, I got engaged, I got married, I became a step-mom, I moved again. Life is busy. Life is wonderful.

Last weekend was my first camping trip with my new family — my husband and four step-sons (ages 5, 7, 9, and 12). I’m so very outnumbered, but in general the boys do a good job of reminding each other to speak differently and keep the body noises to a minimum in the presence of a lady. We received lots of fun camping gear as wedding presents, and all six of us were excited to venture out on our first trip now that the weather is turning warmer.

IMG_0144

Scoping out the best spot for our tents

In the past few years I’ve become accustomed to camping with a few friends or by myself, so it was a challenge to me to come up with all the food for six people for the weekend and make sure we didn’t forget anything important for meal preparation. I’m ok by myself winging it with peanut butter and honey sandwiches all weekend — I knew the boys, however, would not be satisfied with such little sustenance and variety. I planned and packed accordingly, and the boys ate like they were starving all weekend (heaven help us during the teen years). Of course, I had more than one cup of coffee from my trusty percolator during the weekend.

In the woods is the best place to drink coffee.

In the woods is the best place to drink coffee.

This was my third camping trip in a row on the first weekend of April. Two years ago my sister, brother-in-law, and I took my niece camping on spring break/Easter in the mountains of North Carolina. Last year my friend Jen and I went camping on Easter/my birthday in the Columbia River Gorge and the Oregon Coast. And this year, I decided that three years in a row means it’s now a tradition. From here out, our family will make every attempt to go camping on the first weekend of April/Easter/my birthday. It’s the beginning of a family tradition, and a very good tradition indeed.

Hiking through a nearby meadow

Hiking through a nearby meadow

It was also our first trip with the boys where we used our new Texas State Parks annual pass. The past two years I’ve made good use of a National Parks annual pass. On our honeymoon Stephen and I phased out the National Parks pass a few days before it expired, and we purchased a State Parks pass to use over this year with the boys. So far we’ve visited (either as a couple or with the boys) Dinosaur Valley State Park, Monahans Sandhills, Davis Mountains, and now we’ve camped at Cleburne State Park. The boys enjoyed running around in the wilderness, climbing trees, playing in the dirt and the rocks — we didn’t even have time to take them to the lake this weekend at Cleburne, but they had a blast. With it being only 45 minutes from our house, I’m sure this will be a favorite camping spot for years to come.

Here’s to a new family tradition and the years to come!

A second round of Easter egg hunts -- lots of great hiding places in the trees

A second round of Easter egg hunts — lots of great hiding places in the trees

We also hunted for bugs.

We also hunted for bugs.

My fave part of camping -- sitting and being still. For a moment.

My fave part of camping — sitting and being still. For a moment.

Glow sticks after sundown

Glow sticks after sundown

Post to Twitter

Joseph, Oregon

Posted on by

Joseph, Oregon, is not a big town, but it’s a fun place to spend a morning or an afternoon on your way to or from Wallowa Lake. Last week on our way back from staying at Wallowa Lake, my friend Marilyn and I spent some time walking up and down Main Street, window shopping and admiring the local art and ordering drinks at the soda fountain in Mad Mary & Company.

The main attraction in Joseph is the bronze statues you see along both sides of Main Street. I tried to take photos of all of the ones I came across, although I found some of them more appealing than others. Here are a few that I liked best…

Chief Old Joseph

 

three bronze statues on a corner in Joseph, Oregon

 

cowboy statue in Joseph, Oregon

If you’re looking for a meal in a place that the locals frequent, try Cheyenne Cafe on Main Street. The food was good and hearty, and all the old-timers and ranchers gather here in the mornings for coffee and breakfast.

a great breakfast stop in Joseph, Oregon

In addition to the shops and restaurants in Joseph, I would also recommend stopping by some of the Nez Perce historic sites in the area. Between Joseph and Wallowa Lake you’ll find the grave of Chief Old Joseph on a hill overlooking the lake.

at the grave of Chief Old Joseph

I also highly recommend stopping by the Nez Perce Wallowa Homeland Photography Exhibit on Main Street. Then-and-now photos are on display, and you can read more about the history of the Nez Perce struggle with settlers and the U.S. government over this amazing corner of northeastern Oregon.

Post to Twitter

Wallowa Lake, at last

Posted on by

The second try was a charm for me and Wallowa Lake. After hearing extensively from my friend Marilyn about the state park in northeastern Oregon and the beauty of the Wallowa Mountains, Wallowa Lake, and the Wallowa River, I had attempted to drive over there and camp in June, but was turned back by snow (!!). Marilyn has given me excellent travel advice on Oregon in the past (she introduced me to Cannon Beach, for instance, and many great places in central Oregon, as I wrote about here), and the area is special to her and her family, so I was excited to be able to visit Wallowa Lake with Marilyn herself for an overnight trip this past week.

smoky skies in the Wallowa Mountains

 

the view along the opposite edge of the lake, the peaks of the “Little Alps” behind us

 

The weather was fine, but the skies around the Wallowa Mountains were hazy with smoke from the Cache Creek fire that continues to smolder after burning 73,000 acres. My photos of the mountains aren’t as nice as those you see with perfect blue skies and the crisp outlines of the 8,000+ foot peaks known as the “Little Alps,” but I was more concerned with capturing my memories of the area than perfect photos.

a great spot for drinking morning coffee — on the Wallowa River near the Wallowa Lake Lodge

We spent the afternoon wandering around in the forest near the West Fork of the Wallowa River looking for a waterfall Marilyn had visited years back with her family. Somehow we managed to spend three hours hiking around the area in search of a waterfall about twenty minutes’ walk from the road — we’re blaming it on bad directions from a well meaning local, when we should have gone with Marilyn’s gut instincts, which turned out to be correct three hours later.

three hours later…

Despite being lost, it was a gorgeous day for a walk, great weather, fall colors on the trees, and good conversation. The next morning we drank our coffee on chairs under some trees on our hotel lawn, with a sun-sparkling view of the river running into the lake and the peaceful sound of the water. More walking, more talking, more taking in the forest and river and mountains — it’s a wonderful area, and I wish I’d had more time to spend there earlier in the summer.

My plan in June had been to stay in a yurt at the state park — there are two yurts available amidst the tent sites, and when I saw the campgrounds I was even sadder that my camping trip was preempted. It’s a lovely location and would be a great place to camp.

This time around, Marilyn and I stayed in the Wallowa Lake Lodge, built as a hunting lodge in 1923. It’s the oldest hotel I’ve stayed in in recent years — a decade older than the Stone Village Tourist Camp I stayed at in Fort Davis, Texas, last March. The interior of the Wallowa Lake Lodge was recently refurbished, and the rooms have a charming antique appeal. The fixtures and the decor are so quaint and unique, yet everything worked well in the bathroom. No phones or televisions in the rooms, but they do have wi-fi.

the charming Wallowa Lake Lodge

There’s one telephone in a booth in the lobby — Marilyn told me it used to be the only phone available in the entire lake area, and when they first started camping here decades ago, she would have to come to the hotel if she needed to make a phone call.

I promise the Oregon State Parks don’t pay me, people, but once again I’d like to recommend this latest park I’ve visited, Wallowa Lake State Park. I truly have loved visiting each park I’ve been to in Oregon.

Post to Twitter

Mt. St. Helens

Posted on by

May 18, 1980. I don’t remember the eruption of Mt. St. Helens on that actual day, but I do remember hearing about the volcano as a small child. (Side note: I do have a very distinct memory of January 1, 1980 and being super excited that a new decade was starting — weird thought for a four-year-old.) When my parents came to visit me in Washington a couple of weeks ago, we made a two-day trip to the Cascades and spent most of the second day driving and exploring in the area around Mt. St. Helens.

We approached the mountain from the west and got amazing views of the crater, which is not just a hole in the top of the mountain, but a hole plus half the side of the peak missing. It’s incredibly difficult to wrap my mind around 1,300 feet of a mountain top just exploding, but when you watch the video at the visitor center at the Johnston Ridge Observatory, you see that’s just what happened. Earthquake, massive eruption and landslide, blast of steam, tons of ash, mudslide. Catastrophic.

driving towards Mt St Helens on Hwy 504, view of volcanic sediment along the Toutle River

 

view of Mt St Helens from the blast zone

 

another view from the blast zone

Post to Twitter

Maryhill

Posted on by

On my trip up to Washington from Texas in January 2011, as my dad and I were driving on the Oregon side of the Columbia River Gorge from Portland to the Tri-Cities, we noticed a huge mansion across the river on the Washington side, popping up in the middle of the desert seemingly out of nowhere. There was nothing else around it for a few miles, and it puzzled us why there would be such a large house stuck on the side of a mountain towering over the river. I asked a friend about it after we arrived in the Tri-Cities, and she immediately knew which house we were referring to: “Oh, you’re talking about Maryhill. It’s an art museum. Add that to your list of places you should go while in the Northwest.”

I did add it to my list, and on a recent road trip my friend Jen and I made plans to stop in and see what the museum is all about. Maryhill’s website touts it as “Without question, one of the most unusual and enchanting museums in America.” That’s a big claim to live up to when you’re perched on the side of a mountain a few hours’ drive from a metropolitan area.

Before we discuss the oddity that is this charming little collection of art, however, let me first mention the Stonehenge monument three miles to the east on Highway 14. I was driving along at a nice clip on our way to Maryhill and had to make a sliding stop and turn on two wheels to keep from missing the turn-off for the monument — but there was no way we were going to pass up seeing a replica of Stonehenge overlooking the Columbia, with a windmill farm in the background. Sam Hill, an influential Washington businessman, built the Maryhill version of Stonehenge to be a memorial for local soldiers killed in WWI, as a way of making a statement about the sacrifice of young lives to the cause of war. I really had no idea when I left my house that morning that I would be visiting Stonehenge in rural Washington before the day was out.

The Maryhill Museum itself was a very pleasant stop on our way to spend a couple of days in the Columbia River Gorge, and I recommend it for anyone traveling that direction. The varying collections on each floor are unique and seemingly random, but I was fascinated to read the placards telling how they were all connected — household and personal effects from Queen Marie of Romania (who??), Eastern Orthodox icons, a large number of drawings and sculptures by Auguste Rodin (including a plaster of The Thinker), 73 chess sets from around the world (yes, I did stop to count them), baskets from various Native American tribes, and a display detailing Sam Hill’s contributions to the road systems in Washington and Oregon. Among other things. Goodness.

It was the section on Sam Hill’s life and works that I found most intriguing. I’d never heard his name before arriving at the museum (named for his daughter), and he seems to have a rather depressing story as far as his relationships go, but I was interested to see how much he’d influenced the road system and a couple of the places I enjoy most along the Columbia. The Maryhill Loop on Sam Hill’s property near Goldendale was the first paved road in Washington state (!!) — and he was instrumental in building the Historic Columbia River Highway in Oregon and the Vista House at Crown Point, where you can stand high above the river (if the wind doesn’t blow you over) and gaze out in either direction at the grandeur of the gorge. It was also fun to note that Sam Hill was responsible for the Peace Arch at the border crossing between Blaine, Washington, and Surrey, British Columbia, near where my friends and I posed for this picture on a cold, cold day in January 2008. Who knew at the time that I was visiting my first Sam Hill monument?

Post to Twitter

Emory Peak in the Chisos Mountains

Posted on by

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.)

Post to Twitter

Other People’s Thoughts: On the Pecos River

Posted on by

“We crossed the wild Pecos,

We forded the Nueces,

We swum the Guadalupe,

And we followed the Brazos”

from Texas River Song by Townes Van Zandt

Well, on this trip so far we’ve only crossed the wild Pecos and gazed in the distance at the Rio Grande, but this song keeps going through my head. As does this quote I recently read in Three Dollars Per Mile by the Texas Surveyors Association:

“The Pecos is a remarkable stream, narrow and deep, extremely crooked in its course, and rapid in its current. Its waters are turbid and bitter, and carry, in both mechanical mixture and chemical solution, more impurities than perhaps any other river in the south. Its banks are steep, and, in a course of two hundred and forty miles, there are but few places where an animal can approach them for water in safety. Not a tree or bush marks its course; and one may stand on its banks and not know that the stream is near. The only inhabitants of its water are catfish; and the antelope and wolf alone visit its dreary, silent, and desolate shores. It is avoided even by the Indians.” 

— Captain S.G. French’s description of the Pecos River from an 1849 exploratory mission for the U.S. Army

Post to Twitter

Fort Davis, Texas

Posted on by

The Stone Village Tourist Camp in Fort Davis is to quirky hangouts and people-watching what the Eleven Inn in Balmorhea was to peace and relaxation.

Before Pat made our reservation, she called me to let me know what the sleeping arrangements would be like. She and Randy got a little motel room at this renovated 1935 facility, and I got a “camp room.”

My camp room reminded me of rural guesthouses I’ve stayed at many times in China, with a separate public bathroom a few doors down from where I slept. Well, that’s not an entirely fair assessment — the Stone Village camp rooms are clean and have an aesthetically pleasing decor, so the comparison to a Chinese guesthouse does eventually break down. My room had concrete floors and stone walls, while Pat and Randy’s room (with private bath) had wood floors and finished walls.

The thing that caught me off guard when I first saw my camp room was the entryway. There wasn’t a solid door — the entire front of the room was a screen. One section of the screen opens, and a thick curtain pulls across to give the semblance of privacy. The curtain doesn’t shut all the way, and since my room faced the main driveway leading to the highway, I felt a bit like I was on display the entire time I was in the room. I was also a little concerned at first that I might get cold at night, since the desert sky was mostly clear and the temperature would drop with the sun, but the down comforter on my bed kept me very toasty all night. Overall, I had a comfortable stay and would recommend the camp room if you’re wanting to sleep in a bed instead of a tent, but don’t want to shell out the money for a private bath.

The next morning, I wandered from my bed to the Stone Village Market across the courtyard — a fun little whole foods store where you can sit on the front patio under dried chilies and wildflowers and watch the town wake up. I drank a couple of cups of the West Texas Wildfire roast from Big Bend Coffee Roasters in Marfa (with agave nectar and organic half-and-half added), wrote a few postcards, and savored the lazy morning before getting back in the car for our next destination: Sanderson, Langtry, and the Pecos River Bridge.

Post to Twitter

Balmorhea, TX, pop. 435

Posted on by

It took me approximately 5 minutes after our arrival at Eleven Inn in Balmorhea to decide I wanted to come back and stay a few more days. We weren’t even planning to stay in Balmorhea when we first marked out our itinerary for this trip for West Texas Interlude, but every hotel in Pecos is currently booked solid by oil companies doing new drilling. Ironic that I’m taking a trip to visit towns once prosperous in the 1950s that have supposedly been in decline for decades because of the end of the West Texas oil boom and the building of I-20 to replace old Highway 80…and we couldn’t find a hotel on I-20 because of a new oil boom.

The boom worked in our favor by sending us to Balmorhea for the night. There are eleven rooms at Eleven Inn, each with its own quirky furniture and chenille bedspread. My room had a fuzzy stool at a wooden desk, two “distressed” nightstands (certainly not distressed to make them appear shabby chic, but distressed naturally over the years), a comfy bed, and a tiny tv perched on the top shelf of the closet. I never turned on the tv, but opted to listen instead to the glorious quiet of a motel courtyard located away from the highway. This morning I heard a rooster and what I think might have been the motel owner singing in the yard.

We made a stop at the state park and the famous pool filled by San Solomon Springs — 1 million gallons of water per hour gurgle out of the spring into the 3.5 million gallon pool, whose overflow heads to Balmorhea Lake and nearby irrigation channels. Tiny fish bumped against our toes when we dangled our feet over the concrete edge into the water that maintains a constant 72-76 degree temperature year-round.

Before leaving this morning for Fort Davis, I checked with the owners of Eleven Inn to see if they would have space for me to come back the following weekend. No worries — spring break will be over by then, and I should be able to come and sit for a while. Pat and Randy will head back to Denton on Sunday, but I think I’ll stay behind and enjoy the quiet, write in the mornings, hike in the Davis Mountains in the afternoons, and stare up at the star-filled sky at night.

Post to Twitter