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Vermont in October Part 2

Current Location: Rocky Point, Oregon: 40 degrees F and partly cloudy at midday

Somehow Jeanne and Alan were calm and collected as the wedding day drew closer. Everything was well planned and on schedule, and with a few more days before guests and relatives were to arrive, Jeanne had no qualms about leaving town for a couple of days to take me on a driving tour. Alan joked that Jeanne had given him a 26 page list of “things to do when Sue gets here”. With smiles and hugs of encouragement, he sent us off to play at “the lake”, and to explore some of the hidden gems of Vermont that Jeanne wanted to share with me.

There is nothing quite as delightful as having your very own personal tour guide with an intimate knowledge of the countryside. Jeanne drove and I simply sat back with no agenda except for oohing and aahing as we passed through the countryside. Our first goal was Alan’s family place “The Lake Lodge” on the Vermont side of Lake Champlain, where we planned to spend the night.

Our route took us a couple of hours north toward the southern end of the lake where Jeanne decided that I should see the famous Lake Champlain bridge. What a beauty! The visitor center was open, and with this being a holiday (Columbus Day), even on this cloudy, somewhat blustery day, it was rather crowded. The original bridge had to be rebuilt in 2010, and the new bridge echoes the shape of the old bridge beautifully.

This area is thick with historical significance, with many forts and sites of pre Revolutionary War events. Across the bridge, on the New York side, we found the ruins of the French Fort St Frederic, built in 1734. There wasn’t much left to see, with the ruins buried by time and by the coming of the British, who occupied Crown Point in 1759 and began constructing one of the largest forts they would ever build in North America.

Here the wooden and earth fortified walls were still somewhat visible, with the ruins of the stone barracks and officer’s quarters still standing. Even though she lived nearby, Jeanne had never explored this area and we thoroughly enjoyed wandering around the walls and ruins without benefit of the little tour guide to describe what we were seeing. Neither one of us felt like paying the fee to go into the museum to buy the guide. We had other goals in mind for the day.

After leaving the forts, we didn’t dally much along the way, hoping to arrive and check out the water conditions on Lake Champlain. Big on my list was a kayak on this gorgeous lake, but once we arrived at the house, the winds were up a bit. Lake Champlain is big and can be surprisingly dangerous. We knew that our chances of still water were probably better the next morning rather than late in the afternoon, so we opted to wait for some time on the water.

The house is wonderful, built some time in the 20’s, with lots of sprawling enclosed porches, cozy chairs for reading and watching the water, and plenty of bedrooms. I opted for the “maid’s quarters”, a sweet room just off the kitchen entry, chosen especially for the cushy down comforter and perfect mattress.

Alan was glad to send us off, but of course was a bit jealous of our chance for time on the lake. He and Jeanne come here often to swim, read, kayak, boat, and fish. Over the last couple of years I have received countless photos from Jeanne of the lake from this vantage point, and it was wonderful to finally see it in person.

We didn’t linger long, however, deciding that a country drive to the little village of Vergennes was in order. On the way, we inhaled the lovely fragrance of fields spread with manure, a common occurrence this time of year in rural Vermont. I didn’t find it unpleasant, though, somehow it fit perfectly with the beautiful farms in the valley of Lake Champlain.

Jeanne took me to a favorite little haunt at a nearby state park, Button Bay, where we paid the $6.00 entry fee to drive into the park. It was the last day of the season, and we had the place almost entirely to ourselves. Just a short hike led to the rocky point jutting into Lake Champlain where we hunted for the fossils that Alan had previously found. We had no luck finding fossils, but the wild wind and waves on the lake and the dark clouds were incredibly dramatic and gorgeous.

There is RV and tent camping at this pretty state park, although I would imagine it could get a bit crowded during warm summer days. There were no hookups, but a dump station and nice showers are available.

We then meandered through the countryside to the nearby village of Vergennes, where Jeanne hoped to get some pastries at her favorite spot “Vergennes French Laundry”. Seems as though the place is only open a few days a week, and Monday wasn’t one of them. Instead, we opted for outside dining at the trendy little Three Squares Cafe.

to Lake Champlain (62 of 122) Specials for the day included a butternut squash and pumpkin ravioli, in a sage cream sauce with roasted veggies. Oh My Yum!! I must say Vermont food is some of the best I have ever experienced.

Back to the lake house, we settled in for the evening with cognac and books in the big comfy chairs overlooking the lake. It was so nice to have quality quiet time in such a beautiful place with a good friend.

The next morning dawned a bit cloudy, but the winds were gentle, and by 7am we had the kayaks on the lake. With just a bit of chill to the air, we paddled across the bay toward Otter Creek (actually it looks more like a river) and paddled upstream against the gently current. Jeanne told a great story about a time when the revolutionaries were in the bay and the British thought they had them cornered. Benedict Arnold, the commander at the time, dug a trench through the natural levee to Otter Creek, and his army escaped. We kayaked to a spot where remnants of the trench are still visible.

It was a beautiful day on the water, and we stayed out three hours or so before returning to the lodge and packing up for the trip home.

Jeanne still had much to share with me however, and her route back to Dorset meandered over the mountains to the Appalachian Gap overlook and down into the little village of Waitsfield. Even though Jeanne was technically raised in New Jersey, the house in the mountains above Waitsfield was her preferred childhood home.

Here the family would come during the summers and on winter weekends to ski. Jeanne’s father took her skiing in a backpack when she was merely three months old, so she comes by her love of skiing naturally. Just up the road from the family home is the small local ski hill that Jeanne talked of so often, Mad River Glen. Once again, I delighted in seeing all the places I had heard about for so many years in person.

The Mad River flows through Waitsfield, and the covered bridge across the river was another treat. We meandered around the town, visiting a few little shops where Jeanne found a perfect little dress for her rehearsal dinner. Isn’t is amazing to have a friend that slips a size 6 over her head so effortlessly?! While we shopped, Jeanne regaled me with some kayaking stories of her time on the rapids of the Mad River.

Later she found the gravestones that were being hugged by trees in an old historic cemetery just outside of town. Sherry, I thought of you with these stones, instead of you hugging the trees, the trees are doing the hugging!

The rest of the return trip to Dorset was through the back roads, along beautiful rivers, and down some dramatic canyons, where Jeanne again pointed out the names of the surrounding mountains where she hiked and skied. By the time we rolled into Dorset, it was late afternoon, and more wedding guests were beginning to arrive.

As Alan said, when I arrived, he felt as though it was “really happening, the wedding was really happening”! But with the arrival of Alan’s best friends from around the world, Jeanne’s other friends from Oregon, and Tei and Cecil it was time to focus on the real reason I had come to Vermont. The wedding celebrations were about to begin!

Next: I do a little exploring on my own and then its time for a Wedding!

Vermont in October

Current Location: Rocky Point, Oregon Clear and Cold at 32 degrees F this morning

I had a year to get excited about my trip to Vermont. My friend Jeanne was getting married, and I knew I had to be there one way or another. The trip was wonderful in so many ways, and yet losing our sweet dog Abby, just a few days after my return, made it impossible for me to write about the beautiful days and the beautiful wedding until now.

Around Dorset (28 of 35) Mother Myrick in the morning sunrise above Dorset, Vermont

Some time has passed since Abby left us. We buried her not far from where our also recently deceased cat Jeremy lies, both small rock headstones visible from the kitchen window. The initial grief and sadness has eased a bit. The huge empty space that a beloved pet leaves behind is no less empty, but feels a bit less shocking. The house is very quiet. I did finally clean the dog spit off the sliding glass door, and just recently Mo put Abby’s toys away somewhere, I am not sure where.

I think October is a beautiful month just about anywhere in this wide country. However the classic New England fall was on my bucket list. Mo and I have talked often of attempting to get back there in the MoHo, to fill in those last few states we have yet to experience in our rig. However the timing for such a journey can be daunting at best. It is always a juggle between catching the height of color and still not getting caught in the snows that follow. If we had attempted it this year, we would have no doubt been caught in the early snowstorms that are hitting the South at this very moment.

The Connecticut River Greenway along my route from Boston to Dorset

Instead, I flew to Vermont on my own, while Mo spent the time caring for Abby and keeping the home fires burning, shutting down the sprinklers for winter, raking the rapidly falling pine needles and beginning the fall burning. I think I got the better end of the deal, except for Abby of course.

First sight of fall color at the hotel in Marlborough, Massachusetts

With Jeanne’s wedding scheduled for a Saturday, I planned my trip to give me several days of Vermont time before the wedding and before the major influx of guests. When Jeanne lived in Klamath, and we worked together, she often shared stories of her life in Vermont. We were both excited that I would be there in time for Jeanne to show me her beloved home state. I was also happy for the time to spend with Jeanne and Alan and to get a taste of Jeanne’s new life.

The Vermont Visitor Center as I enter the state for the first time

Flying from Medford, I flew to Portland and then got a nonstop cross country flight directly to Boston. Mo and I had been to Boston a few years ago, but it was on a cruise ship. This would be my first visit to Vermont, and I rented a car with the thought that I would drive the 200 miles or so directly to Dorset. I obviously wasn’t thinking clearly when I planned this, and realized that I needed to stay somewhere close to Boston rather than attempting to drive unknown back country roads in the dark of night.

Finding a hotel in Boston was a bit daunting, with the cheapest rooms beginning at $329 per night! Not in my budget, for sure. I could sleep in the car if I had to pay that much for a few hours sleep. Instead, I drove an hour or so north toward Marlborough, and found a basic decent room for a mere $149. The bed was OK, but the room wasn’t much more than your average Super 8 out west that goes for 49 bucks. Still, when I woke the next morning to brilliant skies and gorgeous color in the trees, I was so glad that I waited.

It took me nearly four hours to get to Dorset because I just couldn’t resist stopping a bit for photos along the way. It was my first time in Vermont, and the timing was very nearly perfect. The visitor center at the Vermont state line was state of the art, beautiful, and I began to get a feel for the rural nature of the landscape, and the focus on dairy farming, agriculture, and forestry that is the hallmark of this lovely place.

driving to Dorset (12 of 18) On the winding highway along the West River I came upon the beautiful West Dummerston Covered Bridge, remembering that Vermont has more than 100 covered bridges, and that there are more covered bridges per square mile in Vermont than any state in the country. Of course, after our springtime covered bridge tour of Oregon, I couldn’t miss taking a photo of this lovely bridge. I learned later that it is the second longest covered bridge in the state, but at the time I was taking the photos, I only remembered some of what I had previously learned about trusses and joists and supports. I loved the open window on one side of the bridge especially.Alan’s home on the hill above Dorset.

I really had to make some tracks because the weather was cooperating perfectly for Alan’s offer to take me up in his airplane that afternoon. It was a gorgeous, completely cloudless sunny day, and the rest of the week was forecasted to be rainy and dreary. No time to waste. If I was to see Vermont from the air, I would need to do it on this beautiful Sunday afternoon.

I arrived at Alan’s place by noon, and after greetings and settling in to his brother’s home down the path, Jeanne and I walked to town to the local farmer’s market to get some veggies for supper.

Alan was brining a beautiful “happy chicken”, and only fresh grown organic veggies would be worthy of the meal. Dorset is a beautiful small burgh with lovely historic homes and inns, winding country roads, a town green, and lovely historic churches, one of which would be the location of the wedding the following weekend.

Around Dorset 2 (1 of 21) My home for the week, just down the path from the main house.

My home for the week belonged to Alan’s brother, at the moment traveling around the world on a sailboat, and later the three bedrooms would be filled with other wedding guests. It is a dramatic timber frame home, with great views of Mother Myrick towering over Dorset.

Within a short time, the three of us piled into Alan’s new truck for the drive north to Rutland airport. Needless to say, I was excited. Flying in a small plane is thrilling to me, and as a map maker, seeing the landscape below up close is magical. Alan is a forester, and his understanding of the patterns of the vegetation, his explanation of the various timber communities, and the history of the logging industry in Vermont added tremendously to the flight.

airplane over Dorset (18 of 37) airplane over Dorset (36 of 37) Alan was excited about the flight as well, exclaiming over and over how incredibly lucky we were with the clear skies and the beautiful color playing out over the mountains. Alan and Jeanne pointed out the local mountains, and told some sweet stories about their first hike together on Haystack as they flew past the dramatic glaciated peak. It was a perfect introduction for my week in Vermont.

After our flight, Alan drove some of the back country roads around Dorset, searching for color on the hillsides. I learned that Vermont was almost completely denuded of forest when it was first settled in the 1700’s, with more than 80 percent of the state being cleared for agriculture. In the ensuing years, the trees have once again taken over the landscape and there is now only about 25 percent of the state cleared for agriculture.

I knew I wanted to see New England stone walls, but what I didn’t know was that many of those old walls are found in the forests, marking what were once open fields. Now taken over by the forest again, the old stone walls are crumbling and tucked away in the shadowy undergrowth.

After that breathtaking afternoon, we returned home to Alan’s place to partake of one of the most amazing roast chicken dinners I ever experienced. Alan is a fabulous cook, and his favorite resource is Cook’s Illustrated, also a favorite of mine. I have never ever ever in my entire life had such a succulent chicken, set off with Jeanne’s homemade cranberry sauce and fresh beets from the market. The gravy (another favorite food group of mine) was beyond incredible. Thus began a week of some rather fabulous meals, both home cooked and at inns and restaurants throughout Vermont.

Next: Lake Champlain, Mad River Glenn, and more of “Jeanne’s Vermont”

9-27-2014 A Day on Lopez Island

Current Location: Rocky Point Oregon Clear and 37 F at 8AM

I was so excited when I went to sleep after our beautiful evening sunset, knowing that the skies were clearing and we had a sunny day ahead for our trip to Lopez Island. What I forgot about being around all that water, was the clear skies often bring fog. We woke early Saturday morning to thick fog blanketing our campground with all views completely obscured.

Ah well, it should lift eventually, right? The weather people were predicting a gorgeous sunny day in the San Juan Islands. Hoping for as much time as possible on the island, we left camp around 7 and arrived at the ferry terminal in Anacortes before 8. What I didn’t understand properly was how to interpret the ferry schedules, and after we paid $44 for our round trip fare, the cashier told us to get in line in lane 1 for the first ferry to Lopez that would leave at 10:30 AM. Hmmm.

I knew we were supposed to be in line an hour early, but two and an half hours wasn’t exactly on our agenda. Especially in the fog. There was a small coffee shop near the lines that advertised fresh hot coffee, but when I reached the cashier, they were out of coffee. Just down the road, however, in the terminal building was another coffee shop and I didn’t mind the wait in line. Not much difference between waiting in the car or in the terminal. I picked up a couple of coffees and gathered a big stack of brochures for the islands. It was the smartest move of the day, since there is very little phone service on Lopez, and my most useful find was an excellent fold out map of Lopez Island. Our day would have been much more difficult without that map.

The fog refused to lift or lighten, and by the time we were actually on the ferry traveling west, the skies and the views were still completely obscured. The fog was so dense that they had a person spotting at the front of the ferry to give notice to the bridge of any hidden obstacles. Lopez Island (5 of 51)

Arriving at the tiny ferry terminal at the northern end of the island, I was impressed with the number of bikers in their northwest gear that lined up to get off on Lopez. With a more level landscape than the other major islands, Lopez is very popular with bicyclists. Driving up that first hill off the ferry and as we continued south along the two lane roads toward “town”, it did not look level to me! I was glad to be in a car.

In the fog shrouded landscape, a visit to Holly B’s Bakery was a perfect way to begin our tour of the island. Kayaking in the chilly fog wasn’t big on the agenda. Holly B’s was busy on this Saturday morning, and I must say that the cinnamon roll I purchased was perfect. Dense and not too sweet filled with nutty goodness, it was my favorite kind of pastry. Next to the bakery is the local bookstore, with both new and used books. A “real” bookstore, and we spent some time perusing the shelves and enjoying the ambiance of the place with lots of other folks who were visiting Lopez on this foggy Saturday morning.

I knew there was a Saturday Farmer’s Market but it ended in mid September. A nice surprise was finding two small booths filled with fresh produce from the local farmers. I bought some heirloom tomatoes, one called “the mortgage lifter” because the variety paid off someone’s mortgage. Yum! I also bought some kind of giant purple carrot that we sliced for carrot chips and some greens, some fingerling potatoes, and a couple of ears of tiny corn. I should have taken out the camera a bit more, but the fog was dampening my photo spirits and I didn’t bother.

Lopez Island (38 of 51) Best part of the farmer booths was the young man running one of them who told me, “Just head south!. The southern end of the island is in full sunshine right now. I had to leave it to drive into the fog to come to market”. Yayay! It was already after noon, and in Lopez Village the fog was thick.

Following our trusty little map, we traveled south over the narrow and picturesque roads right into the sunlight shining across the beautiful pastoral landscape. The forests are dark, but where the land has been cleared the light is gorgeous and the farms are lovely.

Our destination was Mackaye Harbor, suggested by Laurel, who volunteered on Lopez for a couple of months, as a good place to kayak. The skies were clear and the sun was gorgeous as we arrived at the boat launch, and the winds were almost non existent across the bay. Perfect. As warned, however, that water was cold! I have heard since forever that kayaking in the San Juan’s requires good skills and either a wet or dry suit because of the cold water. We had neither, but with the sunshine and light winds it seemed perfectly fine.

For a long time it was perfectly fine. The water was clear and the rocky shoreline on the north side of the bay provided interest. Our plan was to head north along the shoreline, hopefully rounding the point toward Davis Bay. The closer we got to the narrows, however, the rougher the water became and the swells although not bad, I had no idea how bad they could get. After all, it was Puget Sound, it was cold, the wind was coming up, and we had no wetsuits. I have to say I got a bit wussy, and suggested to Mo that maybe we should head across the bay toward the southern shoreline rather than going farther out into the straits between Lopez and San Juan.

Even though our time on the water wasn’t as long as expected, it was good that we turned around, because by the time we got back to the launch, the winds were rising considerably and I could see little fog fingers coming across the hills toward the south. Our kayaks are wonderful on lakes, even in the wind they track well, and we have managed mild currents in rivers and high waves on windy lakes. Still, something about these waters gave me an inner chill and I didn’t want to push my luck. Especially with Abby in Mo’s boat and that cold water.

Laugh if you will, but kayaking dark clear rivers in Florida with alligators on the shoreline didn’t create the bit of apprehension that I felt in the cold water of the San Juan’s. I know I would like to go back again, maybe when the weather is a bit more predictable, if it ever is, and explore the many other bays and shorelines of the islands. I might like to actually pay for a guided tour in a sea kayak with someone who understands how these waters work and then it wouldn’t be such an unknown. Still, I am so glad that we managed to at least get on the water and that the fog cleared up enough in the afternoon for us to do it.

The timing was all good, and we loaded up the boats and followed a different route back north to the ferry landing. The ferry was scheduled to leave at 5 and we were in line by 4. However, because of the fog, the ferry was delayed and we didn’t board until 5:30. So again, our lovely tiny bit of afternoon on Lopez was bracketed by several hours of ferry time.

The ferry trip back to Anacortes, however, was clear and beautiful, with no fog to mar the view. I again went outside to try for some photos, but that cold wind drove me back indoors. I wasn’t dressed in fleece and windbreakers the way locals know how to dress. We arrived home at Cliffside RV Park on Whidbey Island just at dark.

Lopez Island (45 of 51) Our day on Lopez was wonderful in spite of the fog and the delays, and I am so glad that we managed the trip. I re-read Nina’s post about visiting the San Juan’s again recently, and can only say that she is so right about her suggestions. It is incredibly spendy to travel on the ferries with a motorhome, and there are delays and weather to consider. We will go back for sure, possibly to Orcas, possibly to San Juan, and will pay the big bucks to get the MoHo to a spendy campground on one of those islands and actually stay for a few days.

Lopez Island (41 of 51) The islands are beautiful, the water is everywhere, I would love to have more time to go slowly and see more. I am not sure when the weather would be best, I think that part may be a crapshoot, with summer fog a possibility and winter cold rains a complete deterrent.

Lopez Island (48 of 51) We planned our exit from Puget Sound perfectly, leaving Whidbey Island early on Sunday morning and traveling the dreaded route north to Mt Vernon and I-5, skipping the ferries. We passed right through downtown Seattle around 8 am, without any traffic to speak of, and were in Portland in mid afternoon as the traffic started picking up. In the future, when we go back to the islands, our choice might be to stay at Fort Lewis on a Saturday night and drive north to Whidbey Island via I-5 early on a Sunday morning. It could work, and then our only big ferry expenses would be getting the rig onto the islands.

Spending the night in Beavercreek near Portland with Mo’s brother Dan and wife Chere was delightful. Hookups on the driveway and a great Mexican dinner topped off our visit. On Monday morning we decided that rather than taking boring I-5 and Highway 58 back home, the longer route over Mt Hood on Highway 26 would be beautiful. Sunny skies and a nice rest stop along the Deschutes River mid morning gave Abby a chance to test the waters and us a chance to warm up a bit.

No big trips for the MoHo are on the agenda in the next few weeks, but I am heading east to Vermont in a couple of days for Jeanne’s wedding. It will be my first time in Vermont, and from what I hear the leaves are waiting for me to get there before they fall. Mo will be holding down the fort here in Rocky Point this time while I go off adventuring on my own.

Abby is still with us, still eating and doing OK for now. She does sleep a lot, and now she pants loudly and snores even more loudly. The vet said that is a common side effect of the prednisone. But she is still here, she still is smiling, and still enjoying pets and hugs and Mo and I are appreciating the time we have with her beyond what the vet predicted.

09-25-2014 North toward Whidbey Island

Current Location: Rocky Point Oregon, gorgeous fall weather clear skies 79 degrees F

Deception Pass SP (1 of 73) After two days of exploring traffic patterns in Puget Sound, we were definitely ready to travel north toward something a bit less crowded. After thoroughly reading everything Laurel and Nina had written about getting around in the San Juan Islands, I decided that traveling north via the Tacoma Narrows Bridge to the Kitsap Peninsula and taking a ferry from Port Townsend to Coupeville was our best route.

To the left is our original planned route, 114 miles, to the right is the alternate route, 195 miles and 5 extra hours!

Even with a ferry trip, it seemed better than dealing once again with the traffic on I-5 north to Mount Vernon and accessing Whidbey Island from the north. I went to the Washington State Ferry website and made a reservation for the MoHo and the Tracker, where the fare was calculated to be something in the vicinity of 67 bucks for both rigs. Seemed reasonable enough.

The drive north was uneventful, with clouds parting a bit for lighter gray skies and even a bit of sunshine here and there. I was a bit sad because I knew that Port Townsend was a great destination, and with our ferry reservation, we probably wouldn’t get much of a chance to see it. Fate stepped in, however, and as we approached the terminal an hour in advance, as recommended, I was surprised to see large red CLOSED sign at the gates.

Seems as though the bridge to land from the ferry on the Coupeville side had somehow broken, and the ferry had been turned around. I can only imagine how all those folks felt! The ferry was cancelled until the bridge could be repaired. We could return via Tacoma and drive north along I-5, or we could drive back to Kingston and catch the Edmonds ferry there.

Rather than worry about it, we decided to take a bit of time and enjoy walking around the downtown picturesque portion of Port Townsend where we had a good parking place for a few hours.

Port Townsend was as magically lovely as I expected, with wonderful shops and a vibrant feeling of both tourism and locals. We found a sweet little cafe where the cappucino was not only tasty, but pretty, with a little window table to sit and enjoy watching the changing and somewhat chilly weather outside. With the weather cool enough that Abby could wait in the MoHo, we enjoyed a leisurely walk through town, going in and out of interesting shops filled with color, art and creativity. I was completely enthralled with a shop that celebrated the fiber arts with quilting, knitting, and beading as a focus. I do love color, and the displays of fabric, yarn, beads and notions, all creatively jumbled together by color had me oohing and ahhing. I did manage to keep my wallet intact, but it was a challenge. to Fort Lewis (77 of 97) After deciding that we definitely will come back to spend more time in Port Townsend, we reluctantly traveled back south toward Kingston. In line for the ferry with time to spare, we coughed up the 86 bucks for the MoHo and Tracker to cross the sound toward Edmonds. The crossing was uneventful, and I didn’t even bother to try to get up top for the view. By the time we reached Edmonds, it was mid-afternoon and the drive to Mukilteo wasn’t terribly difficult. In line once again, and coughing up another 56 bucks for another ferry, we waited as the sunshine came out and illuminated the sound and the islands in the distance.

to Fort Lewis (93 of 97) We again enjoyed the ride, and this time I went top side to get some photos while Mo relaxed with Abby in the MoHo with a glass of wine and a good book. However,as the day progressed we were getting a bit concerned about our arrival time at Whidbey NAS. Google was telling me so many minutes, and we had a few less than needed to get to the Porter Gate where RV’s are allowed to enter the base. We made it with just 3 minutes before closing. It wouldn’t have been too awful if we had been late, as there is a special phone number to call and security will open the gate for you after a short wait.

Once on base, we tried to follow the written directions from the website, and managed to get a bit lost before a nice guy in a car and a Navy uniform offered to lead us in to the Cliffside RV Park. Of course, after being on base for a few days, it was so simple, but that first time in was a bit goofy.

It was approaching early evening as we checked into the south loop of the park, where the manager had told us by telephone to go if we arrived after six. He came down to meet us as we settled in, saying it was no problem for us to come to his office the following morning to settle up our camp fees. I must say that the view from the campground was incredible. After being in a deep dark forest at Lewis McChord, it was a delight to be camped on a high bluff directly above the sea with a 180 degree view of sky and water and islands in the distance.

The sites were level and the lack of shade completely irrelevant in the cool, cloudy skies of this part of the northwest. Full hookups and a spotless laundry right across from our site were added benefits. Just below us was a fitness trail, paved for bikes and used by runners and walkers of all sorts. The beach was just below the path a few hundred feet and was littered with beautiful weathered driftwood and covered with tiny pea gravels rather than sand. I think it was the nicest Family Camp we have ever experienced.

Deception Pass SP (16 of 73) One of the sweetest benefits are the flowers! A camp host is a dahlia fan, and he plants more than 1,000 dahlias in the campground. Dahlias love that moist air and mild sunshine and they were in full bloom. At the campground office, on a table outside the door, are a large selection of vases filled with dahlias for each camper to take to their rig. Just return the vase when you leave. Without a doubt we will return for an extended stay to this camp. In a great location for exploring the area, at $30 per night it was a good deal for this part of the west where decent campgrounds are hard to find.

We originally planned to visit Lopez Island on Friday, but with the rainy weather predicted for that day, and the sunshine predicted for the next day, it seemed smarter to deal with Saturday ferry traffic and stay close to Whidbey and our home on Friday. Waking to misty rain, I read about visiting Deception Pass State Park and after our leisurely morning, we jumped in the Tracker to explore.

Deception Pass State Park covers more than 4,000 acres on two islands. The islands are connected by the Deception Pass Bridge, spanning the salt waters of Deception Pass 177 feet below. There are annual kayak races through the pass, but watching that swirling current and the incoming tide, you couldn’t pay me to drop a kayak into that water. In fact, much of the San Juan Islands and surrounding area require a more seaworthy kayak than our sweet flat water boats.

With the pass just minutes from the campground, we had the entire day to wander out to Rosario Beach and walk the trails on Rosario Head and then back toward Bowman Bay. At Bowman Bay there was a beautiful CCC interpretation center, but it was closed for the season. There was also a perfect kayak launch site and with better weather, it would have been a lovely paddle. We would have loved to have a bit more time to hike out to Lighthouse Point, but decided to save that hike for another visit. One could spend many days hiking around this beautiful park.

As I have often mentioned, I live in a forest. I do know that forests are often shaded and quite dark. However shaded and dark is a mild description of the depths of darkness in the thick forests of Deception Pass State Park. The firs and hemlocks are huge and the understory is impenetrable. The shades of green are beyond counting, but most of them are in the darker range of shades, and the deep blues of the water and gray skies added much to the gloom. It was a beautiful gloom, just not one where I would want to spend any great length of time. Beautiful to visit, but I wouldn’t live there. I need more light!

Light arrived in full force just as we returned in early evening to our camp. The sun burst below the cloud cover over the water to the west just a bit before sunset, turning the grass green gold and lighting up the skies. With Abby on her leash, we walked south on the trail, waiting for the sunset. High over the water, we found a perfect viewing bench. No green flash, but the light and the color was a perfect end to a wonderful day.

Playing in Puget

Current Location: Whidbey Island NAS Cliffside RV Park 55 degrees F and dark skies

Fort Lewis Travel Camp site 107

When planning our Puget Sound trip, I discovered again the fabulous retired military benefit of camping at Military Family Camps that are on many bases throughout the country. Finding good camping in this highly populated part of the west isn’t easy. Boondocking sites are few and far between, with no public lands in the vicinity, and state parks are expensive. I was delighted to locate two FamCamps in the vicinity of our planned travels.

Just south of Tacoma, at Joint Base Fort Lewis-McChord in what is called North Lewis, is a lovely forested spacious camp along American Lake. Within noise distance of I-5, the thick forest muffles the sound of the interstate and I only heard traffic in the dark at 5am as the morning commute commenced.

We had reservations, and were efficiently sent to site 106, a back-in spot surrounded by trees. Cable is provided and until we turned on the TV we didn’t know that a digital television was required. Ah well then, let’s set up the satellite. Of course, we were surrounded by trees, but the empty site across the way, a pull through site, had full view of the southern sky.

Without any difficulty, I went back to the office, requested the change, and in minutes we were settled into the new site with the satellite all hooked up. Until the rain started and the signal scrambled. Often camping without benefit of hookups, much less television, it was no big deal, but it is nice to keep abreast of world events now and then.

My Verizon MiFi worked great, which was also a good thing since I saw nary a sign of the base wifi that was supposed to be available in this campground. Mo was running low on prednisone for Abby and we needed to find a vet who would refill her prescription.

We found a vet at a nearby PetSmart who agreed to see Abby, and decided that we could continue north to visit Gig Harbor for the rest of the afternoon. Gig Harbor is a beautiful small town with a famous walking waterfront, lots of good restaurants, and art galleries. A trendy, touristy, fun place. I have read about it often, and always wanted to visit.

As we crossed the Tacoma Narrows bridge on Highway 16 we were warned that traffic backup in Gig Harbor was more than 4 miles out. Having no clue as to the cause, we simply assumed that it was standard traffic stuff for an area known for congested traffic. We made it to town eventually and parked a few blocks up from the waterfront and the Tides Tavern, our destination restaurant.

Tides was delightful, and I did have to do a “food porn” shot of my incredible salmon sliders. We were just in time for happy hour, and in addition to a great beer selection, the happy hour menu was perfect for our late afternoon lunch/early supper. Mo had a single piece of fish and chips, but my sliders were on fresh baked slider buns, slathered with chipotle aioli on one side and basil pesto on the other. Yum. Oh, and don’t forget the fried pickles as well. First time I had them was in Seaside Florida, and these weren’t as good, but still yummy.

Our waiter was perfect, just chatty enough and the service was excellent. Our waiter showed us where Mt Rainier was located in the clouds. The tavern is famous for its view of the mountain. He told us where we might walk to see the town, but as we watched the rain pour down we decided that a drive through might be a better choice. Gig Harbor is great, but not so much in a heavy pouring rain.

That is when it got interesting. The traffic was bumper to bumper, completely stopped no matter which way we turned. It was impossible to get over to the freeway, so we drove north a bit, while I navigated with the phone to try to find a way around to get back south. We turned off into no man’s land, only to find more bumper to bumper traffic in the middle of nowhere.

It seems there had been a huge wreck on the freeway, with both directions closed for many miles. With some creative navigating, I got us to the exit just before the bridge and we finally got out of the stop and go traffic. It was an interesting experience…many hours of complicated driving and navigating for an hour or so of relaxing at a nice tavern on the water.

The next morning was our “Seattle Day” and after perusing several options, we decided to attempt a visit to the Chihuly Glass and Gardens show at the Seattle Center. Neither of us wanted to do the same things we had done in past Seattle visits, aka Pioneer Square, Downtown, Pikes Market, all that “stuff”. Also on our list was a visit to the Fremont District and the Ballard District, with perhaps a side trip to the Washington Park Arboretum.

It didn’t sound like a big deal or too much of an agenda until we actually got on the Interstate north into downtown Seattle. Bumper to Bumper. Dead stop. All roads on the Google Map traffic completely red. Signs saying the interstate is gridlocked. So. Getting off the interstate, we drove downtown on the 99, enjoying the high level view of the city from the Viaduct…the one that needs some serious earthquake protection work, but that is another story. The Seattle skyline is always magical no matter the vantage point.

As we drove north, thinking we could bypass Seattle Center for the time being, we somehow ended up on 99, considerably west of our Ballard destination, but right in the middle of the Fremont district. I was trying to navigate with the phone, trying to figure out where to go, when we somehow turned into a tiny side road that led us directly to the famous Troll under the Bridge. I had read about the troll in years past, but it wasn’t even on our radar for this day of exploration.

The story of the troll is here, and definitely worth checking out. For us, it was a happy accident and we continued driving through the Fremont feeling as though we had been lucky. We were in the baby car/Tracker, and even so the streets in the Fremont area are incredibly narrow and tight.

Continuing through the district, we found the corner with the famous statue of Lenin that to this day is controversial. There is another story behind this statue as well that is interesting. The alternative culture of the Fremont is evident everywhere, with cannabis shops, art studios, artistic grafitti, and interesting people walking around.

Without a good city map (a paper map!) I had to rely on the phone to try to navigate and without actual addresses it was a bit of a stretch to find “the Ballard District”. We knew it was somewhere west, so kept driving narrow streets and tight traffic until we came to the Scandinavian Museum. The Ballard District was originally very Scandinavian, but has since become more upscale urban and I didn’t see a lot of Scandinavian influence. It was a bit confusing, but we drove most of Market Street.

Once again, this is the kind of neighborhood that requires more time to truly enjoy. In the rain and with limited time, neither of us were really into the shopping eating and walking kind of thing that should be savored slowly. Both the Fremont and the Ballard districts would lend themselves well to a B and B stay for a few days with ample time to sample the shops and brews and food. Still, we at least got a taste, if a tiny one.

The Ballard Locks are in this area as well, and would be another fun place to visit with more time and less rain.

We could see the Space Needle to the south, and managed to navigate to the area, but then finding parking was daunting. There are several public parking lots and one even had a weekday special for ten bucks. I knew going in that parking would be difficult and expensive, but somehow when we actually got there neither of us was in the mood to pay a bunch for parking and a bunch more for the exhibition and we just decided to skip it. I think both of us were getting pretty tired of traffic and crazy circuitous routes by that time.

Thinking perhaps a walk in the Arboretum would be more to our liking, I attempted once again to navigate our way out of downtown Seattle toward the Interstate 5 and Washington Park. The interstate north wasn’t too bad until we somehow managed to get into the Express lane and couldn’t get off until we crossed a bridge and then had to find our way back south over another bridge.

When we finally arrived at the spacious green expanse of the Arboretum, we were definitely ready for the calming effect of a walk among the trees.

I used to love the energy of Seattle, it is a great city. It is a city that should be seen without a car, arriving on a cruise ship, staying in a downtown hotel, making use of public transportation and walking a lot. It isn’t a place to go to in a day with a car. Ever again. Not for me. I was exhausted from continually trying to navigate, reroute, navigate again and keep up with the shifts.

The Arboretum is a treasure, a respite in the midst of a crazy day and we loved every minute we were there. Again, it is a place that requires much more than just dropping in for a walk. One could walk here for days and not see all the wonders, especially the 500 varieties of Japanese maples.

Our respite didn’t last long because we knew that in order to avoid complete gridlock we needed to leave Seattle no later than 2:30. Daughter Deanna later told me we should have left by 2 at the latest. I think that would mean we should leave before we get there to avoid traffic. Deciding to skip I-5 altogether, which was already gridlocked, we drove across the 520 toll bridge (where the fees are only the pay by mail version if you don’t have a pass) to Bellevue and onto the 405 south toward Renton. Again, bumper to bumper, stop and go…and this was 2:30 in the afternoon on a Wednesday! By the time we hit Tacoma, it was 3:30 and once again it was stop and go bumper to bumper.

Ignore the google time thing. WRONG!

We were both starving and I seriously wanted a beer! I searched for and found a brewery not too far off the interstate north of our home destination, and we managed to slip into the Tacoma Mall. Turns out the brewery was right in the middle of the huge mall and the huge parking lot was very full. Ack! Instead, we opted for sliding into the Red Robin parking lot nearby. With a draft Octoberfest and some kind of southern whiskey hamburger, I finally began to relax, preparing for the next jaunt south on I-5 to our campsite.

Excited about finally getting back home, I prepared for our base gate entrance by getting out our ID. Fort Lewis is a 100% ID check base. UhOh. Mo’s wallet was nowhere to be found. Seems as though we spent the entire day with her driving and her wallet back on base in the MoHo. With no clue how we were going to get back on base, we looked at each other and just kept driving.

At the gate, I had said specifically that I would be sure to keep my mouth shut and let Mo do the talking. Of course, I am nothing if not mouthy at the wrong times, and in spite of my desire to keep my mouth shut, I started blabbering at the guard. Sheesh. In spite of my mouth, when Mo fully explained the problem, he let us in the gate, saying, “Just go ahead”. whew!

Back to the rig, wallet in hand, we got back in the car to go across to the other side of the base for provisions from the commissary. Whew again. Just writing about this day has exhausted me again, so I am not going to continue writing about our trip north to the Port Townsend ferry the next morning, reservations in hand. Another crazy thing….but that is next.