Backpacker’s Guide to the Galaxy

I’m thinking this would be a great title for a hiking guide (with 42 hikes of course). But alas, this post is not quite that ambitious.

In early July, when Mr. A and the Towhead were visiting my family, I had a few days to myself. Normally, this is the time I use to catch up on cleaning, organizing, watching movies, and generally relaxing. (The best is the mini-spa treatments that I know won’t be interrupted, like soaking my feet in hot water and tea tree oil and saturating myself with body butter while I watch a sappy romance or cheesy foreign film.)

But this time I couldn’t seem to find the motivation to do it. Sitting on the couch and/or cleaning just didn’t sound good to me. Which is odd. I’m normally a compulsive cleaner, and organizing the house so things are easy to find and function smoothly almost always sounds good to me. Not this time.

I wanted to get out, to do something impulsive. I had the overwhelming urge to throw some stuff in the car and find a remote alpine lake to cool my feet in. So after a bit of research I found a hike that sounded just right – fairly short, some exertion but nothing too ambitious. I had no urge to come back exhausted. Mr. A and I love to backpack, and the Bean is usually a willing cohort on day hikes – I’m sure she’ll be a great backpacking companion when she gets older. But at this stage finding time and a babysitter makes backpacking a seldom-enjoyed luxury for Mr. A and I. And while day hikes can be satisfying, there is nothing quite like the feeling of carrying everything you need on your back, walking into the wilderness and sleeping under the stars.  I’ve missed it. My family worries about me when I decide to take off even for a night to go camp, which I find silly. Studies and statistics show that you’re more likely to run into more dangerous situations in urban and suburban settings than in wilderness areas. But they’re softening, and at this point the safety precautions are second-nature – leave location info and times in and out with at least two other people, whether in bear country or not take stuff to tie up your food (or a bear canister), take enough water (and/or bring a purifier) and leave some at the car. Add poncho, safety whistle, and a Leatherman to the basics – map, food, sleeping bag, clothing layers, headlamp – and you’re good to go. I love my family, and I love taking care of them, but the ease of taking care of just me and not having to worry about logistics for three people can be really refreshing.

Revett Lake sits on the east side of a ridge that separates Idaho and Montana. Situated in the Bitterroot mountains it is one of the few alpine lakes in that area.

I will admit that I got a little turned around getting to the trailhead, but it didn’t matter much to me and the dog (affectionately termed Mutt Butt. See Cast of Characters.)  It was a beautiful drive with sun, a cool wind, and good music.

The trail was so picturesque! Complete with waterfall off to the side, ferns in the gullies, and the late season wildflowers still in bloom.  I saw corn lilies with their broad leaves, purple penstemon among the rocks, cat’s ears and their three fuzzy white petals, vetch, and bear grass. The only downside it that the hike to the lake was too short. As usual, I underestimated what the Mutt and I were capable of doing in a day. However, I overestimated what my new boots were ready for – I had blisters in spite of the moleskin I religiously place on my heels.

But really, what better than to soak your feet in a cold alpine lake? I set up camp, we hiked around one side of the lake, and then crashed out for a nap. I felt a little wimpy, crashing like that after such a short hike, but I figured it was my vacation and it felt good, so who cares, right? I justified it by promising myself I’d do an epic trip in the next year or so. I woke up to a male and female pair of pine grosbeaks sitting in the abandoned fire ring next to my tent.

The only thing that would have made the trip more perfect was if I had come 2-3 weeks later. At that point these cute little pink blooms would be sweet, ripe huckleberries. Oh well, my timing has always been a little off.

After an evening hike around the other side of the lake, the Mutt and I headed back to camp. To make things easier and my load a bit lighter I left the stove at home and opted for pbj and some carrots for dinner. But I couldn’t resit the campfire ring that had been left by previous campers. I grabbed a few dead branches and started a small blaze, then went back behind camp for a few more branches and some dried pieces of wood from a fallen tree. And I heard what I thought sounded like hooves stepping on dirt. I looked around, scanning the brush and trees. “No,” I thought, “you’re paranoid because you’re alone. It’s just the echoes of your own foot-falls.” So I kept gathering wood. Then I heard a branch crack and looked up to see a brown rump about my head/chest height go through the trees to my left and toward the stream outlet of the lake. All I could think was what Mr. A had told me about moose’s tendency to charge at barking dogs. I hurried back to camp and made sure I had Mutt Butt close. Needless to say I was very alert the rest of the evening.

We always say that the Mutt is never happier than when she’s on the trail – that hasn’t changed in 10 years and this trip was no exception. On this trip, the same was true for both of us. There are other places I am equally as happy, but backpacking is easily among the top 5. Staring at the small things that make this world so amazing, how can you help but smile? I forget about material goods, all I need is what I’m carrying on my back. Home becomes something bigger than the house I live in; working is something your muscles do to get you where you want to be, something that feels good as the blood rushes throughout your body letting you know you are alive and connected to everything you see. This backpacking trip was nothing big, but it reminded me of why I love it so much.

The PS to this is that on the way home I found myself behind two RVs that had stopped in the middle of the road for some reason. As I looked off to the left I figured out why. A moose was grazing in a gully next to the road, about 30 feet from where I’d stopped. All I could think was “Now this is how I wanted to meet a moose.”

Summer Mania: A Long-winded Update

OK, I’m aware it’s been awhile. Summer is a wonderful and awful thing for me. I love summer – the way plants and grass smell in the evening after soaking up the sun all day, backpacking to alpine lakes, calling up friends for last-minute backyard BBQs, digging my hands in the garden’s soil, and the inordinate amounts of socializing we do with family and friends that we lost track of during the winter months. But what it means is that I don’t really read, knit, or blog much. Which frustrates me because there’s so much going on, and so much to say! Truthfully, I gave up many years ago and realized that summer and fall is my time to do, and winter and spring are my time to think about and reflect on it all.

The short version is that we were on vacation for the first half of July. Mr. A, the stinky Towhead, and I flew down to Orange county to visit family and attend a wedding. In the process we also got to play at the beach, visit with college friends and their families, and Towhead got to go to Disneyland for the first time.

Every year Mr. A’s parents throws a huge 4th of July celebration – an average of 40 people show up every year and it has become an unofficial extended family reunion of sorts. The last few years someone has brought a BBQ/smoker, the kind that’s 8-10 feet long and has to be pulled on it’s own trailer. The meat that comes out of that thing is heavenly. If that and the pool are not enough, the other major draw is that their house backs up to a baseball field that adjoins the Seal Beach Naval Weapons Station – and those navy guys know how to put on a hell of a fireworks show! The entire neighborhood shows up to spread out blankets and chairs.  Kids run around waving glow sticks (no more sparklers – party-poopers. What’s 4th of July without someone getting burnt fingers from a sparkler they couldn’t bear to part with?) and grandparents cuddle under blankets to watch the colorful lights explode overhead.

Well, that party got canceled this year for the sake of a wedding. Even though it was a different setting, it was still wonderful to see family and friends. The reception was at the Hotel Maya within sight of the Queen Mary and overlooking Long Beach harbor. It was a lovely day in a gorgeous setting. The wedding was beautiful and very thoughtfully put together – I cannot fault them for that. That said, it is hard to get enthusiastic about a wedding when you don’t even remotely agree with the couple’s vows or their view of what marriage means. Marriage is a partnership – two whole individuals that decide to support and enhance one another through life’s changes. One person often takes the lead in certain situations, but it is understandable – I would say expected – that the lead role can and does change regularly. Marriage is a collaborative, fluid, dynamic process – a symbiotic relationship that creates something bigger than the sum of its parts. I will never understand individuals who glorify subservience in a marriage, and elevate the status of one person (in this case the man) over the other. I remember hearing the word “worship” – and I agree only in the sense that every person is worthy of worship and reverence as a fantastic piece of the biological puzzle. However, on oh so many levels I have issues with a partnership based on the male half (either half really) being lauded as a Christ-like figure that inspires and guides the other in a savior/devotee relationship. Even the benevolent verion of these roles makes me cringe. I firmly believe that although religion can be a part of any marriage, marriage itself has nothing to do with religion. That’s the optional part of the ceremony as far as I’m concerned.

Every feminist bone in my body was boiling in outrage – so I boiled, and took it as a good exercise in self-control.

But I also realized mid-ceremony that I am not required to agree with their vows or view of marriage, because I was not the one getting married. This ceremony needed to be meaningful for them, and I have no doubt that it was, which is wonderful.  In spite of it all I am proud of Mr. A’s cousin, who I’ve watched grow from a gangly 10-year old to a confident, polite man with a positive and respectful attitude toward his new wife. I may not agree with him but I still love him dearly. We may have missed dancing at their wedding, but we did arrive back at my in-laws in time to spread out a blanket and curl up with the kids to see the firework display illuminate the neighborhood.

After a week in southern California, Mr. A and the Towhead flew up to Sacramento to visit the other half of the grandparents. (We figured they were already in California, we might as well make the most of the trip. However, I had to fly back home for work, which sucked. I miss my family.) They had a blast! I know only what I heard over the phone and saw from pictures, but the stories and one-liners that emerged from their five-day trip are hilarious! Most of it consisted of the chaos of ordinary life and tasks – like shopping, doing crafts and playing ball. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t hear the laughter across several states. The most quotable moment though involves Towhead’s recurring obsession with playing doctor. When examining her “old Nana” (great-grandma) she told her that, “her brain wasn’t working.” I love where we live but boy, do I miss family! Vacations like these are what summer is all about. Summer always reminds me to live, and not take the world too seriously. That is when we’re not busy laughing and playing, and I have a moment to think about it all.

Canoe Trippin’

I posted the picture of the new canoe, and though we’ve taken three trips so far, I’ve yet to post a picture!!

Well, here are a few from our last trip about three weeks ago.

We drove south of Spokane to Hole in the Ground, a marshy area right between two finger lakes – Bonney and Rock Lakes. From there we paddled north to Bonney Lake. It was a gorgeous day! 

Highlights and memorable moments: We saw a huge colony of cliff swallow nests, and were able to paddle close enough to see babies popping their heads out, looking for food.

 

Lunch on an island mid-lake, where we got to see a garter snake up close as we got out of the canoe. I was pulling the canoe up on some flat rocks when I looked down and saw it about three feet in front of me. I stopped and pointed it out to the Towhead before he slithered off into the brush. No startling “ahhh!”s on either of our parts. Just a quiet, slow “Hi. You can go now.” Mr. A tried to catch it, but didn’t get out of the canoe quick enough  I also my first glimpse of poison ivy (yikes!)

We paddled to the far end of the lake, a bit farther than we were in shape  prepared to paddle, though we didn’t realize that until the last hour of the trip. All of this was based on the fact that someone told us there was a waterfall at the end of the lake – the things we’ll put ourselves through for the sake of a little beauty We didn’t get to see the waterfall we were looking for, but we did get to see a waterfall. And lots  of painted turtles. I don’t have any pictures because we spent too much time trying to get close to them and maybe pull one in the boat for the Towhead to see. They were good size – imagine small dinner plate – with the characteristic red around the outer carapace. We got really close but never managed to catch one.

 

Then there was the last hour. Oh, that last hour was painful. And we almost tipped the whole family and everything that came with us into the lake when we went to retrieve a water gun the Bean (aka Towhead) had dropped into the water for the third time. Combine the long day, near dump into the lake, sore arms, and too much sun (no sunburns though) and the result was me sitting in the bottom of the canoe holding a tearful Towhead while Mr. A tried to navigate the windy path through the marsh by himself – not an easy task.

But that was the only downside of the day. After a Popsicle a wonderful stranger handed us, and a power nap in the truck, the Bean was ready to roar. One of the couples that went with us owns 300+ acres right next to Turnbull Wildlife and Elk Refuge just north of the lake. They fed us salmon, fresh corn, and coleslaw, and gave us a tour of the barns where they have sheep, goats, cows, turkeys, and chickens. Then the adults got to watch as the Bean and the other two kids ran around and tackled each other in the grass.

We head out again this weekend (or at least that’s the plan).

Raising Lady Godiva

This post-bath time shot of Crazy Towhead and Ra-Ra was taken on our last trip to Portland. I think it will always be one of my favorites. What can I say? A naked girl in the woods breeds naked girl on a horse.

On How to Treat Dental Rash

This may be a bit out of sync chronologically but it’s too good a story not to share.

One of our first mornings in Portland visiting Mr. A’s sister and her family, I woke up bleary-eyed and tired after a late night of talking, eating, and catching up with family. I went in to take a shower since the kids were entertaining themselves watching “Wow, Wow, Wubzy” (groan. my frustration with Nick Jr. is another story entirely). Hot showers are how I wake up, rejuvenate, and convince myself that I really do have the energy and stamina to carry on in spite of body aches and little sleep. I love ADORE hot showers. I also adore camping trips like the one we’d just returned from, full of wildflowers, shallow rivers to wade in, and campfire smoke that permeates every article of clothing I own. I love getting dirty. And I LOVE getting clean afterwards.

So I get out of the shower, dry myself off and pull out the toothbrush. No toothpaste. Mr. A has not unpacked his bathroom bag with the toothpaste yet. Damnit. OK, Mrs. L (Mr. A’s sis) must have some spare toothpaste up here in the medicine cabinet somewhere. So I search. Keep in mind, having just gotten out of the shower I do not have my glasses on. Without them I can see fine, provided the object is within 2-3 inches of my face. After that I’m living in fuzzy -blur world. So I get my face inside, and I mean directly inside the medicine cabinet and I find a tube of toothpaste. I squeeze it onto the brush and begin scrubbing. But something doesn’t feel right. No suds. No foam. So I scrub a little harder, a little more. No, something’s not right. The toothpaste feels tacky, pasty. I keep brushing. It takes me a minute in my still-waking-up state to realize that perhaps what I put on my toothbrush was not toothpaste??

“Noooo!” is all they heard from the other end of the hall. All I could think was “Surely, I am not stupid enough to have made this mistake.” But, I did. In my blinded, going-through-the-morning-routine-on-autopilot mode I really did grab the other staple, besides toothpaste, that’s in the medicine cabinet of every toddler’s mom – Diaper paste. Yep, butt paste for the gums. And, man is that shit hard to clean out of toothbrush.

I can’t wait until I can afford Lasik.

Summer Mania

Even with the move, this summer has really been no different from the usual. There’s a laundry list a page long of things we want to do, and always so little time. Why am I surprised? So many of our friends have accused Mr. A and I of being a bit overambitious in our plans and activities. I guess our philosophy is that we only live once. If we can travel to see family, get outside as much as possible, make plans to see friends, maintain jobs and kids, indulge hobbies periodically, and still maintain our sanity, why not? (Maintaining sanity has been high on my list these past months, which is one (though poor) explanation why I haven’t been writing more).

So this Friday we’re off to Portland to visit Mr. A’s sister and her family (for the sake of anonymity, I dub them the L’s). Mr. A is presenting his sage grouse data at the conference for the American Ornithological Union (AOU). So we get to run over two squirrels with one car (sorry, birds and stones are boring), and combine both work and family interests. We will embark Friday evening, drive six hours, and then crash briefly before heading out to camp with Mr. and Mrs. L Saturday and Sunday nights. Crazy Towhead is crazed at the opportunity to visit with her cousin Sarah. CT, of course, has dubbed her Ra-Ra. Then we get to spend the rest of the week visiting with friends of ours from Reno who will also be at the conference. Did I mention that Mr. A’s parents will also be driving in for the last part of the week? It’s going to be a crazy family/friend/camping/conference-filled week. Perhaps four squirrels and a car is a better analogy for this one?

In spite of the packed itinerary, I’m really excited. Mrs. L brings out my darker side, and around her I am better able to let go of things. This is good for me, especially when my perfectionist/OCD nature begins to get the best of me, which happens when I’m away from good friends for too long. I also can’t wait to see friends from Reno. With the immediacy of Facebook, I’ve been able to talk to them much more than I would by email or phone. But it’s a double-edged sword. I talk to them more, which fulfills my need to communicate with friends, but it does make me miss them more in other ways.

After Portland Mr. A and I are home for a week and a half before we head to Alaska (sans Towhead) for 5 days to see two of our close friends from Reno tie the knot outside Homer. Picturesque lodge overlooking Kachemak Bay, wildlife and bird watching, kayaking, fishing, and catching up with good friends are just a few of the things on the agenda. Given that we get 5 child-free days for the first time in six months, there are definitely other things we have in mind as well, but I have to keep this somewhat G-rated since my grandma is a regular reader Mr. A and I both are shivering with anticipation. The alone time will be fantastic, don’t get me wrong, but Alaska is huge on our list of “Places I Must Go Someday,” and there’s  little bit of history to this one.

Mr. A grew up in the concrete suburban jungle of Orange County. He grew up wanting to go to the woods. From the age of 10 his dream was to go to Alaska someday and study wolves. He figured he would grow old, living much like a hermit in an igloo or field camp somewhere in the far north. At 30ish he might find a nice, practical girl and get married but Alaska and the wolves definitely came first. Enter me: lively little blonde from his college martial arts class. I visited him everyday at the sandwich shop where he worked until I had the courage to ask him out. He was befuddled and accepted. Needless to say Alaska never materialized the way Mr. A thought it would. We often accuse each other of showing up 5 years too soon. I hadn’t planned to marry until later either, but love and timing have never been synonamous in anyone’s book. The two years ago, the opportunity came up. Mr. A’s work was accepted at the Wildlife Society conference being held in Anchorage. We  were thrilled! The acceptance in itself was an achievement, and it’s location was a major incentive to pull some money from our savings and make it happen. The assumption we made when budgeting though was that Mr. A’s project money would pay for his ticket up there and the conference fees. Wrong. He had to call and ask them to take his name out of the presentation schedule. It was a dark day.

Fast forward to this spring. Two of our good friends move to Alaska about the same time we move to Spokane. Their wedding was originally going to be in Reno so more of our friends could attend. When that turned out to be too much hassle they polled friends and family to see who could make it to AK instead. We hemmed and hawed for a long time. Moving is expensive and finances have been adequate but tight. Finally we broke. It’s Alaska! And we knew if we passed up another opportunity to go, that the spectacular “trip to Alaska” we’ve been dreaming about would end up being a less-than-spectacular cruise when we were semi-retired. That’s not how either of us want to see Alaska. So why not break the ice (metaphorically of course), see the glaciers and wildlife with friends, and whet our appetites now while we still can kayak, hike, and wander wherever our fancy takes us. It’s a short trip but if we keep waiting for that long spectacular trip, it will never happen.

So that’s August. I’ll let ya’ll know later what the plans are for September and October.