#20 The Trip, Itself

 (Have you read the post about our 21st day? Click here.)

On these 21st and 22nd days, we were “headed” to Yellowstone, although we didn’t consider it our “destination.”  Instead of a place, every mile, every jaunt, of the trip itself was our destination. This was practice I had developed as a youngster and Ron seemed to come by naturally.

When I was growing up in Michigan, my Daddy and Mama took our family on vacation every year – never across the country or to another continent – but to northern Michigan many times and to Virginia once. The destination was never our focus. The trip was our focus. We stopped along the way at roadside picnic areas where Mama tossed a tablecloth across the table and set out cold fried chicken and homemade lemonade carried in a glass gallon jar that had previously held apple cider vinegar. As we travelled, my brother, sister, and I played games in the car and occasionally fought like cats and dogs, while Daddy and Mama discussed sites we passed. My little ears and mind must have picked up their conversations, as I remember such things as The North Begins at Clare. I learned in those years that the trip, itself, was the destination. 

Then, after Ron and I married, whenever we took our three kids, Matt, Kristen, and Amber, on trips – camping in the Upper Peninsula or the long drive to Florida – we tried to make the trip, itself, our focus, too.

That first travel trailer, a used 20′ 1971 Holiday Adventurer, was probably our all-time favorite – undoubtedly because with it,  we created our first camping memories with the kids. We loved our little trailer, its cushions covered in a green flowered print,  coordinating with the avocado green appliances. (I wish I had it today!) We had some great experiences in that trailer. The first time we took it out, our two new bikes fell off the new bike carrier on the back, and a tree limb took the antenna off the roof when we backed into the campsite. Camping was always an active adventure, from Kristen falling out of the upper drop-down bed to Ron and I yelling at each other nearly every time we backed into a campsite at a State Park!

In addition to camping, the hours spent on the road throughout two days of driving to Florida hold special memories, as well. I wrapped small gifts to keep the kids busy in the car: new crayons and coloring books, small  magnetic checker boards, or my favorite – Colorforms.

The fascinating thing about those long drives was our mode of transportation . I particularly remember traveling in a 1976 Chevy Caprice Estate Station Wagon. Ron and I had driven a couple hours away to buy this used wagon, a few years old but in excellent condition. We lovingly referred to it as The Tank.

The Tank was huge – three full seats, each with plenty of leg room. Behind the third seat was a huge cargo area. The back gate rolled under and the back window rolled up (see the pic). Everything was automatic. It was all decked out with power options. When we went on vacation, we put the second and third seats down flat and placed a full-size foam mattress in the back and let the kids have at it (it’s a redneck term). I placed a suitcase beside each back door so the kids didn’t get near the door handles or automatic windows. Lunches and snacks were packed in shoeboxes, so we only stopped when necessary and for an overnight at a reasonable motel. They played all the way to Florida and napped only occasionally! It was a joyous trip – one for which we would be chastised today – but in those days . . .


Regardless, whenever we left for a vacation – either pulling a travel trailer or in a big old station wagon, my Daddy and Mama reminded us, “Remember now, your vacation starts when you leave home.”  It was a statement they had made all those years ago when they took my brother, sister, and me on family vacations; they repeated it some years later to Ron and me and our kids as we left home for vacation; so Ron and I have the same mindset to this day: the destination isn’t the focus of our travel. Each mile of the trip, itself, is the focus.

So, on these 21st and 22nd days, the trip itself – not Yellowstone –  was our destination. 

The trip today took us further east, through the high desert region of Burns and Hines, Oregon. 

The barrenness of the high desert region eventually gave way to bits of green, first found in small evergreens, then in pasture and hay fields, and finally in a few green corn fields, irrigated, of course. 

Lunch at rest areas in 95+ degree heat meant finding a picnic table shaded by a small pavilion, as trees were rare.  

To look on the map, one would think it a hop, skip, and a jump to cross into Idaho and up to the edge of West Yellowstone, but in reality, it was a long drive. It required another overnight, one which we had expected to spend at a Walmart parking lot or at a roadside rest area, but we had a problem with either: the intense heat, which permeated the surface of our trailer with no means of release without electricity to run the AC or even our little fan. So, I called ahead and booked us a site at Mountain Home, Idaho. The campground and campsite left much to be desired, but we were just thankful to refresh the inside of the trailer with AC!

Ron stopped along the road occasionally to cool the truck in this heat. 

The landscape was fascinating. In spite of the heat, I was thankful for these two days of the trip itself through Oregon and Idaho.  

Late in this 22nd day, the Tetons loomed to the east as we turned north toward Montana.

We settled in to our campsite just before dark. Behind us, chalets dotted the mountainside. To the west, the sun set, the end to another beautiful day of the trip itself. 

Tomorrow, our destination would actually be Yellowstone.

Click here to read the next post in this series,

#21 Mi tse a-da-zi

 

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Shh! Listen!

What I tell you now in the darkness, shout abroad when daybreak comes. What I whisper in your ear, shout from the housetops for all to hear! 

Matthew 10:27

I would love to speak to your group!

Now accepting speaking engagements for fall and winter!

#19 Our Own Oregon Trail

We left the Redwoods, our hearts full. (Have you read that post? Click here.) We yearned for more time in these forests, but it was time itself that caused us to move on. We tried not to look at all we left behind – rather at all that lay ahead for us.

We took a bit of the Redwoods with us – a seedling for our grandson, Noah. It would yet travel over 2500 miles with us. I babied it all the way. We headed north on US 199 to Grants Pass and then continued on Highway 62.


As we had done for 20 days, we continued on this 21st day – to observe our surroundings with its varied landscapes and features throughout every mile we traveled. The truck was most comfortable. Ron and I conversed about everything we saw. We drank fresh hot coffee and cold bottled water and munched on trail mix. Unlike other shorter drives near our Michigan home, I did not read or write while we traveled on this trip. Instead, I soaked it all in. Ron and I loved every moment of travel and every moment together. We were creating sweet memories.

It was a hot day, but we found shade as we lunched along the Rogue River.

Shortly after, we stopped to view the remnant of Mt. Mazama in the distance, which now held Crater Lake, the deepest lake in the United States.

But soon an unexpected treasure loomed ahead of us. I quickly looked at my map to find the name of this mountain I had not anticipated. It was Mt. Thielsen, over 9000 ft. high with the sharpest, horn-like peak of any mountain we had seen thus far. 


Called the “Lightning Rod of the Cascades,” its peak often receives lightning strikes, which have actually melted some of its peak, forming fulgarites. We were fascinated by this mountain.

A beautiful, clear day with perfect road conditions, we reached Bend, Oregon, where we had planned to overnight, much earlier than expected. We stopped and had a milkshake, discussed our plans, and pressed on, turning east on US 20. We drove 100 miles through sagebush and tumbleweeds, with no towns in sight, rarely meeting another vehicle, feeling like we were driving our truck through an episode of Death Valley Days. But unlike  those old days of bumpy roads in a covered wagon, this drive was smooth and quiet. 

The sun set to the west, behind us, casting pink rays upon the sagebrush.  It was a sight I’ll never forget.


We settled our little trailer into a quiet rest area just at dusk, looked at each other and smiled. It had been an awesome day on our own Oregon Trail. 

Let’s stay connected. See the places, here on my website, to follow/like my Facebook author’s page and to subscribe to my website posts.

Click here to read the next post, #20 The Trip Itself.

#18 I Walk Among the Giants

From the north, we drove just a short distance into California before gps instructed us to turn east onto Highway U.S. 199 toward our destination campground. I had booked three nights here, which I thought gave us two full days to go into the parks to see the beautiful Redwoods ~ our purpose in coming to this southernmost point of our journey. I assumed we would reach our campsite, set up, and visit the parks the next day, but – once we made that turn onto U.S. 199,  we  discovered were already in the Redwoods:

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#17 The Fog Lifts

We both wished I had booked us another night at  Honeyman State Park along this Oregon Coast. So much to see. So little time. But this and each night’s camping  reservations had been made from over 2000 miles away . Not realizing all we would want to see, we had wished for more time at nearly every site we’d visited so far on this journey and would wish it again over and over in the weeks to come! But we moved on, leaving this beautiful park, 

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#16 Reaching the Pacific!

I think I’m a light sleeper, so it’s amazing how well I can sleep inside a thin-walled travel trailer, on the outer sides of a Walmart parking lot, semis and RVs pulling in and out all night.

But I did. Sleep well. And after a breakfast of pancakes and french press coffee fixed over the gas stove, we were on our way from Corvalis to Newport where we would discover the Oregon Coast on this beautiful sunny day.

 The logging industry was evidenced here. Plywood, stacked high on railroad cars was of high value in today’s market. Farms – not green farms as in Michigan – but hay – lots of hay. And old barns here, as all across the country, told stories of long ago. We’d already seen such diverse landscape in this beautiful state of Oregon – ice-capped volcanic mountains, dry desert buttes, hay fields – and we weren’t yet at the water. I was anxious to see the coast

 


Soon we turned south on Highway 101, another scenic byway, this one along the Pacific Coast, and we crossed a beautiful arch bridge, The Yaquina Bay Bridge, 133 ft. above the waters of the bay below.


We saw the dark blue waters of the Pacific Ocean to the west.

Anxious to get to the water, we stopped at the first beach pull off we could find. And we were simply amazed! 

Then we continued to stop as often as we could throughout the rest of the day. 

The winding roads of this southern Oregon coast mimicked those to which we’d become accustomed on this trip, but in contrast, these roads were set in clouds atop rocks extending well into the Pacific. 

Heceta Lighthouse on the cliff

Before we knew it, we had arrived at our reserved campground for the night. We would still cover much of the coast tomorrow as we continued south toward the California line.

We found Honeyman State Park to be perfect! 

We checked in at the small office and drove to locate our site in this beautiful park. Shady, Sun-filtered. Mossy trees. Everything I love in a campsite. Yes, it was perfect, at least, until we arrived! Yikes!

Water Spigot when we arrived
Water spigot after we backed in to our site!

When Ron and I were younger and took the kids camping, we struggled to back the trailer in to the campsite every – single – time! But we were well beyond that now. We never had a problem setting up the trailer at ANY site during this trip – until this one! 

In all fairness to us, you “campers” can look at our designated site and perceive the problem: The water spigot is on the edge of the drive – close to the drive – with no support post beside it.  (The wooden post you see is angled behind it.) When one backs in, one must crank . . .

Well, you see the problem. We, on the other hand, missed it!

Water started flushing out . . . oh, it was pitiful.. . . 

Two phone calls, campers walking by and pointing out the problem (as if we didn’t see it!), four park rangers, the water shut off to the campers for 45 minutes,  and over an hour later, the pipe is fixed.

Whew! Let’s take a walk and get away from this embarrassing situation! 

Although the campground is in a deep woods setting, the sand dunes are the key feature of this state park. Dune buggies run the dunes. 

We would have liked to have hidden when the tire of Ron’s truck broke that water pipe, but it’s difficult to hide with a pickup truck and a 24 ft. trailer! Ron kind of blamed me, since, as he backed up, he had called to me out his side window, “Am I okay on the other side?”

“Yes,” I answered. Never considering . . .

I assumed he had checked the area before backing up, so . . . 

But, unlike those early years of marriage and camping, there was no yelling – no anger – very little frustration. Not that we’ve reached any level of perfection . . .  I think we’ve just learned to put our problems in perspective!

We laughed about it then, and we laughed about it today, when I wrote about it!

By nightfall, the tent campers in the area were able to once again access water from the spigot, campsites downhill from the water spigot dried up from their flood of water, and Ron and I both slept well in the dark night of this forest.

See my next post, #17 The Fog Lifts. Click here.

Thank you, Eric Ethridge for your permission to use your awesome photo of the boulders on the Oregon Coast as my featured photo on this post. You’ll find more of his photos on Instagram: Eric Ethridge.

The Calm After the Storm

Storms. They’ve hit hard of recent. All over the world. Oftentimes in a rage I can’t even imagine.

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#14 Adjust your sails, girl. Don’t pick at paradise.

It’s all in perspective.

Dictionary.com defines “perspective” as “the state of one’s ideas, the facts known to one, etc., in having a meaningful interrelationship . . .”

Previously, “the state of” my ideas were that one needed complete solitude to enjoy a campsite. Or at least close to solitude. A quiet, shady setting on a hot summer day would be best. That was the state of my idea. But my perspective changed. My ideas now were based upon this new and different perspective.   I was now looking at the setting through the lens of my new “interrelationship” with the beautiful Columbia River Gorge, which I wrote about in my last post: (The Magic of Multnomah) So from this perspective, I was camping in the midst of a wonderland. 

Where once I thought I could not sleep with the noise of a passing train whistling and roaring throughout the night, I unexpectedly quit noticing the roar of the trains and instead focused on the wonderland. I didn’t even need my pink earplugs I wrote about earlier. (Click here.)

Where once I thought I could not sleep with the noise of a major highway near (yes, the cars and semis ran just behind the Airstream travel trailer in the site next to us),  I suddenly didn’t hear the noise and instead focused on the wonderland.

It’s all in perspective.

An enlightened perspective sometimes brings great joy! As it did to me at Site 33, Viento State Park along the Columbia River (and along the train tracks, and Highway30  . . .  ha-ha!)

I don’t think I need to explain it. The videos and photos reveal it: my new perspective! 

It brought joy.

Give it a try! You’ll see things quite differently.

(If the background music on the website is playing, please scroll down and pause it while watching the two videos below. Enlarge video to full screen, if you can!:)

 

 

A short walk took us over the railroad tracks and to the river.

Loved our shady spot – sun filtering through the mossy trees! And Highway 30 was just behind the Airstream on the next site!

Click here to see my next post, #15 Escapades, Palisades, Cascades

#13 The Magic of Multnomah

Gorge. The very word has an ugly connotation. but this place is anything and everything but!

It is magical. Mystical. Enchanting. Refreshing. 

I thought I was prepared for its splendor, but I wasn’t.

Weeks before we left Michigan on this adventure, I had second thoughts about the whole long trip. Far away from the kids. What if something happened? 32 days is a long time. I had anxiety. Then something happened that gave me peace. It was a photo – a photo of  the most beautiful waterfall ever – in my opinion.   I had seen this photo often throughout the past few years, mostly online but had no idea where it was located. And so I judged it: the most beautiful waterfall ever.  I never even considered I would ever see it.  Researching the Columbia River Gorge we were to visit on this trip, I suddenly discovered this magnificent waterfall to be in the area. I was so touched to learn this, I choked up and whispered, Thank you, Lord. Now I knew it was His will we take this lengthy journey. I knew He was blessing me. I had peace. 

Isn’t it just like our Abba Father to give us the desires of our heart? Even the things we never asked for! And, in doing so, confirming His blessing upon us?

I had two overnights scheduled for us at the Viento State Park, along the Columbia River, but some way I maneuvered a third overnight at the state park, and we scheduled our days carefully. The first site we would visit would be Multnomah Falls.  We  drove  just  a  short distance to the six mile trail  of waterfalls  along  the Historic route.

We were driving through a mystical, magical  wonderland of massive trees, vibrant greens, and brilliant filtering sunlight. 

 

 

Finding a parking space near Multnomah Falls was challenging, as the lot is quite small. We learned that the state would require advance passes beginning the next month. This was further evidence of God’s blessing upon us this day. It was our time.

Multnomah Falls Visitor Center

This area, and especially Multnomah Falls itself, appears to be the landscape from Middle Earth. When one climbs to the bridge spanning the falls, one expects Tolkein’s elves, Aragorn and Arwen, to be standing there, conversing – to look at us and say, Come, join us.  The bridge, the 611-foot-tall waterfall, and the lush green walls of the mountainside are mirror images of Rivendell. 

(Open to full screen, if you can:)

 

I was simply enchanted. The cool spray of water refreshed my face from this and other waterfalls we would visit on this day. I closed my eyes and went back in time. The moss on the rocks and trees and fallen logs was reminiscent of that on the stepping stones leading to a water fountain in my Grandma Nutt’s rock garden. I find connection in the small and the large details throughout my life, demonstrating the same creator – the One True God. He uses both the minor and the magnificent to reveal Himself to us. The past memory was over 50 years ago and over 2000 miles away; God shows me today that He was in my presence then and He is present now. He is ever with me. Because I am His child.

Wahkeenah Falls, Bridal Veil Falls, Latourell Falls, and Horsetail Falls. We went from one falls to another, climbing to the brink and hiking the stream of bedrock below. Our day was spent in exploring something like a Shangri-la.  I spread a cloth over the thick gray, moss-covered wood of a picnic table, where we lunched in the shade of tall pines and oaks. The trails occasionally took us to overlooks of the River beyond.

 

Open to full screen, if you can:

 

 

As magnificent as Multnomah Falls is, and as beautiful as the other waterfalls are, the last one we visited, Shepperd’s Dell Waterfall was the most meaningful to Ron and me. I’ll explain the reason.

 

 

 

The Shepperd’s Dell website explains,

“We owe our thanks to a modest farmer who gave us his “dell.” George Shepperd was a transplanted Canadian farmer who moved his family to the Gorge in the 1880s, settling on a 160-acre land claim along Young Creek, just west of the mill town of Bridal Veil. He supported his family by farming, dairying and working at the nearby Bridal Veil Lumber Mill.
 
“In the early 1900s, HCRH engineer and designer Samuel Lancaster began surveying a possible highway route through the Gorge. Travel in the Gorge at that time was mostly by train, and the Shepperd farm was one of the many stops along the route. . .  George was described as an early supporter of the highway, and this is surely the time when he realized that he could be part of Lancaster’s grand vision.
 
“Newspaper accounts show that Shepperd had many opportunities to sell his property for substantial profit, as the new highway was quickly dotted with roadhouses and gift shops aimed at the new stream of tourists. The Oregonian later reported: “ever since the highway was constructed, Mr. Shepperd has received offers to purchase the tract, but has refused them, having in mind an intention to dedicate the property to the use of the public.” In March 1914, George Shepperd’s land was donated to the public.”

So, here is a man who thought of others above himself. But greater yet, a placard at the sight told us that Shepperd and his family came to the waterfall on their property to worship. To worship! So that’s just what Ron and I did that day – at that last waterfall. We worshipped God. It was a blessed time.

Following are photos of Shepperd’s Dell Waterfall and the beautiful bridge and walkway leading to it. Notice the moss!

Ron and I love shady forests with the sunlight streaming down from above.  We love streams and rivers and waterfalls. We love being in the quiet woods away from the noise of highways. We love listening to the birds. And I love green moss! 

You might cherish other things in nature: certain animals, the atmosphere, the heights of the mountains or the depths of the valleys. The smell of freshly mown hay or of a rose in your garden. Perhaps you love the busyness and noise of the city, the whistle of the train, or the roar of race cars. 

How does God reveal Himself to you? Speak to you? Give you evidence of His presence?

He is always present and He cares for you. He wants to meet the longings of your heart. He desires communion with us.  Sometimes it’s a massive revelation; sometimes it’s tiny – like green moss.

Look for Him. Listen for Him. He’s there! Find your spot and worship!

Before you leave my wonderland, join me in the woods. I’m quite sure I saw Aragorn and Arwen flitting across the rocks along this stream:

You’ll find all the Adventure Travel posts in the “Home Sweet Home” Tab of this website. 

Here’s a link to the first. At the bottom of each post, you’ll find a link to the next. Subscribe and look for a new post tomorrow in your email.

Click here to read the next Post – #14 “Adjust your sails, girl  . . ” 

#12 Into the Gorge

Oh my word – Mt. Rainier was beautiful to view much of the way from Yakima, Washington, south to the Columbia River Gorge.  First, Rainier was the backdrop of acres of fruit. How appropriate, for as we traveled, we munched on deep red sweet cherries from the area. Never so fresh!

Then Rainier stood white-capped and massive behind green fields of hay; farmers were cutting and raking as we drove on. Soon we discovered corn fields, which we hadn’t seen this far west since Minnesota.

At a later point, we viewed both Mts. Adams and Rainier at the same time. How very beautiful! Their peaks were covered in snow, and it was somehow physically refreshing to look westward toward them, as this day was extremely hot and dry. Eventually, most of the green farmland gave way to hot, dry field and rolling hills,  colorless other than a few small trees that can root in the rock.We stopped high upon a butte to look out over the valley below. Unlike the Wenatchee Valley, this valley was hot and dry and brown, yet it was beautiful. Green fields evidenced ingenuity of the farmers in the area.  It was not my favorite kind of landscape or climate, yet I loved it for God’s people were in the land and worked the land. This land had resources and purpose, just as all His creation does.

Soon we saw an unwelcomed site in this wind-whipped land: smoke. As we neared, we saw the blackened buttes to the east and helicopters dropping bags of water upon the earth below:

We drove past the smoke today, but in days to come smoke from fires such as this would fill the skies around us and traces would penetrate our lungs, as well.

Finally the blue water and green steeps around the Columbia River Gorge came into view. It was a welcomed sight.

We followed the river westward on the Washington side, high upon the edge of the buttes for miles and miles before we descended and crossed the bridge near Hood River. We said goodbye to Washington and hello to Oregon. It seemed a different land – green and cool. But it was still windy  – very windy! 

The next days in the Columbia River Gorge were refreshing – like living in a magical land! 

Click here to read the next post: The Magic of Multnomah! https://kathiwaligora.com/13-the-magic-of-multnomah/

Have you read my other posts from this trip? Click here to Start with #1 – The North Begins at Clare