A Quick Update

Well the travelers in the slow lane have taken a serious detour and have been horrible about posting lately. We sincerely apologize to our regular readers.  Since our days in the redwoods, we have spent a great deal of time living life, and not a lot of time writing about it. Here is a brief overview of the last month. There will be more details of these places and people to come in future posts.

We found Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox in Klamath, CA. That is Maggie next to Babe's leg.

We explored Half Moon Bay, CA and the surrounding area. It was fun to visit all the places we used to go when the elder Hake's lived here. The area hasn't changed much in 8 years.

Maggie made a new friend in the campground in Pacific, CA. 

We had a blast down on Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco. 

We got a tour of Hollywood, Rodeo Drive and Beverly Hills from an old friend who lives in LA. 

And Maggie got to go to Disneyland and met all of her favorite characters. 

We then headed to Tucson to help Lisa's parents open up their house for the winter. We are currently enjoying beautiful fall days in the desert. 

Thanks Greg!

I logged in today to check for any comments on our recent blogs and found the following comment from Mr. Greg King, the Executive Director of the Northcoast Environmental Center.  They are located in Arcata, CA, very near the redwoods we visited.  Please read his nice comments (I learn something every day) and check out their website.

"This entry is much appreciated. However, do note that virtually every ancient redwood tree is now protected in some form. Second-growth, however, is not, and these already cut-over forests are being hammered all over again. Worse, their biodiversity is being converted in an ecological instant to monocultural tree farms full of cloned conifers. 

National Forests, where old-growth is still being cut at a feverish pace, don't fare much better. Here at the Northcoast Environmental Center we're gearing up for "salvage sales" of trees that burned during this summer's big fires. These stands in particular are very fragile and need to be left alone.

Good for you for recommending contributions to a conservation outfit. Your readers may want to know that the Northcoast Environmental Center is the largest and oldest regional conservation organization in northwestern California. We are in the trenches every day protecting these vital North Coast gems.

Enjoy the ride!"

Greg King
Executive Director
Northcoast Environmental Center
1465 G Street
Arcata, CA 95521
www.yournec.org
707-822-6918

The Mighty Trees

I worry at times that these blog entries become too mundane.  Another round of “we went here, saw this, it was beautiful, here are the pictures.”  I try to find interesting stories, or different angles to describe things to keep it somewhat interesting for those of you who read.  It is a testament to the natural beauty left in this country that we have been blessed to see so much.  In spite of all we have seen and all the places we have been, there have been few days that are indescribable.  For a brief few days in mid-October, we experienced a place that truly is impossible to communicate in words or pictures.

After leaving Oregon by way of Highway 199, we crossed the boarder into California late in the afternoon.  We drove down the Smith River valley towards the town of Hiuchi, which is the gateway to Jedidiah Smith State Park and Redwoods National Park.  If you have never been to Northern California and seen the giant redwoods, I honestly cannot describe their grandeur.  Believed to possibly be the largest, and some of the oldest, living organisms in the world, the redwood forests are a trip back in time.  And I am not talking about a trip back to the turn of the 20th century when the Save the Redwoods League began organizing to protect the remaining stands of these ancient monsters, I am talking about a trip back to the time of monsters.  It is believed by many scientists that redwoods populated much of the area we now recognize as North America during the time dinosaurs roamed the earth.  It is further believed that although a giant meteor and its subsequent cataclysmic fire wiped out the dinosaurs, the fire resistant nature of the redwoods allowed them to survive.

What the redwoods couldn’t survive, and still can’t, is the saw, axe, and logging truck.  Three creations of man that still reduce their numbers to this day.  But, in the cobbled together sections of state and national parks that protect various old growth stands, you can glimpse a small picture of what this great forest looked like 2,000 or 3,000 years ago, when the largest trees still living today were sprouting from seed.  And while what remains is a small piece of history, it is nonetheless breathtaking.

The largest of the redwoods stand more than 300 feet in the air, with trunk diameters reaching more than 20 feet around.  They grow to these astounding sizes with a broad, shallow root structure, that is rarely more than 6 feet deep.  Stand at the base of one of these giants and look up and all you will see is the beginning of the canopy, which often doesn’t start until 200 feet.  Walk into a grove of large trees and you feel like you are surrounded with massive living columns that reach farther into the sky than you can see.  The forest floor in these groves is dark and cool all day, with ferns, redwood sorrel, and fungus growing in the undergrowth.

This is our second visit to the redwoods, and just like our previous one 10 years ago, it will remain etched on our minds forever.  The forests feel haunted.  Not in a scary, uncomfortable way, but with a sense that you can feel the eons that these trees have seen.  You can look at their bark, almost totally covered in moss and ferns; see the giant fire holes that the tree grows right around; marvel at the car sized burls hanging off the trunks; all the while feeling your insignificance in comparison.  The oldest of these trees has lived for about 40 average human lifetimes.

What we didn’t know on our previous visit, and are only know finding out, is how amazingly complex the canopies of these trees are.  I just finished reading a book about the scientists who study the redwood canopies.  The book is called Wild Trees by Richard Preston, and it is astounding.  What scientists have learned is that there are entire ecosystems living in these canopies that never have contact with the ground.  Ferns and huckleberry bushes grow in giant nooks and crannies, squirrels and birds abound.  There are species of salamanders that live high in the trees and never come down.  One species was just discovered this year.  There were even crustaceans found in the trees.  A species that scientists never knew could exist out of the ocean: and they have no idea how it got there.

Despite this amazing, relatively unexplored ecosystem, as you drive up and down the California coast, you are nearly colliding with logging trucks at every turn.  In writing this blog, I have tried my best to avoid politics and preaching, following the rules of good dinner conversation, but the fact that these forests are still coming down is a complete and utter freaking tragedy.  If we keep logging out these forests, leaving just a few museum curiosity anachronisms to gawk at, the ecosystem will fade and die.  It takes many hundreds of years for these trees to mature and the biggest ones are at the apex of their lives.  They won’t be around too much longer (at least in redwood time).

So, go see the redwoods when you have a chance, it is worth the miniscule price of admission.  While you are at, send a few bucks to the Save the Redwoods League.  They have been fighting a Quixotic battle since 1917 . . . they could use some reinforcements.

Programming Note

Over the last few days we have made our way from Bend, Oregon, through the Redwoods of Northern California, and down the the San Francisco Bay area.

While there will be posts forthcoming to describe some of these destinations in detail, please know one thing before I crack open a beer and relax.  If you wish to take a year or two off of your life, go ahead and pilot a 20 foot pickup with a 21 foot trailer down Highway 101, across the Golden Gate Bridge (there is a toll, in case you didn't know . . . more on that later), then through downtown San Francisco and out to Pacifica, CA.  Oh yeah, then do it at night.  Needless to say, the folks who park their cars along 19th Avenue in San Fran are blessed to have there rear view mirrors tonight.  Now, where did I set that beer?

National Bosses Day

Since I am thankfully not, at the present time, intimately involved in the vacuum formerly known as the American economy (with the exception of making an unhealthy contribution to Exxon, Chevron, Shell, and BP), I was not aware of the passing of that most precious of holidays: Bosses Day.

I was only made aware of this monumental passing by a truly kind woman working in the flower department at the Bend, Oregon Safeway.  As we were pacing around the pharmacy department waiting to get our flu shots, this woman, resplendent in her Safeway embroidered golf shirt, black Safeway apron, regulation black slacks, and sensible black shoes came up to us and asked: “can she have a balloon?”

Being the truly cruel parents that we are, we had just denied Maggie a helium balloon, not wanting to go through another two weeks of running into that crinkly floating chunk of mylar in every corner of Francine.  Despite grasping tightly to the new box of Barbie Band-Aids we were going to let her get (in anticipation of needing them to calm her after the flu-shot experience), she was pretty grumpy about the no-balloon situation.  She has always loved balloons.  

Needless to say, in Maggie’s eyes, the Safeway woman was an angel from heaven.  An angel bearing a bouquet of balloons for bosses.  Maggie settled on a beautiful light blue number which said: “You’re a Great Boss!”  The Safeway Angel informed us that since Bosses Day had recently passed, her boss had instructed her to throw away all the pre-inflated, un-purchased Bosses Day Balloons.  However, rather than just toss them in the trash, this lovely women came to the conclusion that she would just give them away to all the little kids in the store that day.  As she put it: “this is much more fun than just throwing them away.”  How true.

Not only did this gift make Maggie’s day, it illustrated the insanity of having a holiday honoring bosses.  On this one day, the boss just wanted to be rid of the old stock of balloons, while the employee saw an opportunity to spread joy to young kids, all the while creating thankful paying parents/customers.  Who was the leader in that situation?

I have always wondered who the narcissist was who created Bosses Day.  I suppose it is conceivable that it was created by some incredibly thankful staff member who had the best job in the entire world, but I doubt it.  More likely it was created by some advertising executive, or that mysterious Hallmark marketing genius who men like to blame for the proliferation of inane holidays in which cards, flowers, or gifts “must” be purchased.  Do we really need a day celebrating Bosses Day?  Isn’t absolutely every day Bosses Day?  On which day does the average American employee, who isn’t the boss, go to work with an agenda other than performing his or her tasks in accordance with the boss’s general wishes?

When I was in my first year of private practice, my legal assistant came into my office and asked me what I wanted for Bosses Day.  It turned out that all the staff would make treats for the attorneys they worked for and the whole office would have a little celebration.  Completely embarrassed, I asked suggested that nothing would be appropriate, given how much she did to keep me organized and productive on a daily basis.  Despite my plea, she assured me that this was not an option and the “holiday” went on as planned.

As we walked out into the bright sunshine on a beautiful fall day, I was again thankful (for the countless time) that for a while I didn’t have a boss, didn’t have any staff, and was free to travel this great country with my family.  Then, I looked over at Maggie, who was clutching tightly to her “You’re a Great Boss” balloon while asking for this, wanting to go there, and expecting us to provide her what she wanted.  Lisa and I looked at each other with a smile and realized that maybe the balloon’s message was more accurate than we thought.  Maybe we do have a 40 inch, 35 pound boss.  She is just really cute, funny, and a joy to go to work for every day.

The Oregon Coast

After our days exploring Portland, we headed back out to the coast, arriving first in the town of Newport, OR.  Newport is definitely a tourist town, you can tell immediately.  Scores of restaurants, shops, and attractions abound.  At the same time, it feels like a real town, like most of the towns on the Oregon coast do.  There is a sense that real people live here still and that the area is not just populated with tourists and second homeowners.  Some of the coast towns are still a bit gritty, in a way that hints at the fact that boats still come in and out and the people in these towns still work on those boats and on the docks.

In Newport we stayed at South Beach State Park, which is one of the largest parks in the Oregon park system.  Even in October, it was till relatively crowded, with a large number of campsites filled.  South Beach has an incredible dune ecosystem on its beach, which is made slightly incongruous by the view of the huge Newport bridge and the town when you reach certain parts of the beach.

In addition to hiking the dunes and exploring the park a little bit, we took Maggie to the Oregon Coast Aquarium to see fish, sea otters, seals, crabs, sharks, rays, and tons of other marine life.  Needless to say, she had a blast.  Running from exhibit to exhibit, giving lectures on every fact she had just learned moments ago.  After the aquarium, as we were crossing over the Newport bridge, a stunning double rainbow appeared as the sun broke through the clouds (see, I didn’t even mention that it was raining…).  The typical legend has it that if one finds the end of the rainbow, a pot of gold awaits.  Well, at the end of this rainbow, jutting out into the harbor, was the Rogue Brewery, which was close enough to gold as far as we were concerned.  We lunched heartily on Kobe beef hamburgers and enjoyed some of their fermented artistry while Maggie held forth on the sights at the aquarium with the waitress and whoever else would listen.

After leaving Newport we headed further down the coast to Sunset Bay State Park.  Rarely is a park more aptly named than this.  The beach at this park is a beautiful protected bay, with quiet water and towering sea cliffs that frame the western sky perfectly for each sunset.  Last night we hiked down to the beach, with a bucket of sand toys for Maggie, so that we could watch the sunset after a beautiful, and surprisingly bright and sunny, October day.  The sunset didn’t disappoint.  There was not a cloud in the sky, save for a few, beautiful bands of clouds out over the Pacific, that appeared to be divinely applied to the sky to magnify the beauty of the setting sun.  

For me, it really felt like a spiritual bookend to the sunrise we watched in South Carolina months ago.  It now feels like we really have come all the way.  This feels like a trip that is beginning to wind down: to set as the sun, to come to a close with the change from fall to winter.  For all of us, it is beginning to feel like it is time to settle down, to find a home, and to start building a new life in that place, whether it be a new place or an old one.

As I stood on the beach with Lisa, watching the sky turn colors, then fade away, I had that palpable sense that this was a moment I would remember for the rest of my life.  One that we will look back on and talk about for years to come when we reflect on this journey.  Probably too because the moment was perfectly framed by Maggie, who was tearing around in circles on the beach, roaring like a lion at her imaginary friends (yes, their still with us), who she was trying to scare.  Unique is one word that definitely comes to mind. 

Today we are off to California and the great groves of Redwoods on its northern coast.  This is the last part of our journey that we have really planned.  We will see the Redwoods, make a quick jaunt back up to Ashland, Oregon, and then, from there, we are completely unsure.  In fact, we are so unsure that we may even engage some reader participation, on the form of a poll, to help us decide the next phase of the adventure.

Portland Gardens

Portland earned its nickname, The Rose City, in battle, or at least because of it.  Not many cities can say that, I would guess.  In the early 20th century, as World War I was raging in Europe, Portland planted a garden.  This was not just any garden, it was the International Rose Test Garden.  A safe haven, to be exact.  While men were dying in battle, a certain subset of Europeans (namely gardeners), feared not only for the fate of their countries, but the fate of their roses.  In order to prevent those roses from being bombed, burned, and trampled into extinction, they sent samples of them to Portland for safe keeping, trusting in the knowledge that the green thumbs of Oregon would preserve them.  Well, mission accomplished (and not in the premature standing on an aircraft sense).  That rose garden now holds something crazy like 5,000 species of roses.

You might think, after an introduction like that, that we would have visited this garden.  Sorry, we didn’t.  I just really liked the story.  We did, however, visit two other phenomenal gardens in Portland, which certainly did nothing to dissuade us from the belief that in the hands of the Portland gardening community, nearly every plant on the planet is safe.  The first garden on our itinerary was the Portland Classical Chinese Garden.  This garden is, indeed, a classical Chinese garden, and a beautiful one at that.  To build it, the city ripped up a parking lot and facilitated the creation of the garden on one city block in the middle of Portland’s China Town (which was once one of the 4 largest China towns in the U.S.).  The garden is spectacular.  With plants, trees, bodies of water, and traditional Chinese buildings creating an incredible oasis in the middle of the city.

Our second garden visit was to the Portland Japanese Garden.  I love Japanese gardens.  In fact, when we re-landscaped our mini backyard in Erie, I specifically had the designer incorporate elements of Japanese gardens into it.  While our backyard turned out wonderfully, you will not be surprised to hear that the Portland Japanese Garden is better.  It is so good that the former Japanese Ambassador to the United States once said that he believed it might be the finest traditional Japanese garden in the world, including in Japan.  Now you can see why those European rose growers felt confident in the fact that Portland was a good choice.  This garden spreads across 5 acres and includes formal tea gardens complete with a tea house, strolling pond filled gardens, and Maggie’s favorite, the Zen garden: a classical sand and stone garden usually reserved for Buddhist monasteries.  The Zen garden is about the size of 1/2 of a football field and it takes the gardener who rakes the sand 3-4 hours to complete the job.

We coupled our visits to the gardens with little journeys through parts of the city.  Portland is a great city.  If Seattle is the high tech, green, progressive city, of the west coast, Portland would be its younger sibling.  That younger sibling that maybe dyed his hair, got a few tattoos, ran with the wrong crowd a bit, but still could solve differential equations while quoting poetry over a cup of coffee.  While Portland certainly has its hip, trendy, glass building/imported car neighborhood, it also is still awash in funky, bohemian neighborhoods that attract all kinds of people and give off a great energy.  A huge plus for Portland is also the fact that it is home to the finest bookstore in the United States of America (without hyperbole), Powell’s City of Books.

Powell’s is a book lovers nirvana.  The flagship store in the center of Portland is a four story building that covers an entire city block.  Apparently, you could put the Chinese Garden in there.  I wouldn’t know for sure, but I can tell you that if you are looking for a book, you can find it here.  Or more likely, you can ask one of the myriad employees who work there to find it for you.  If you don’t seek help, you may find yourself far enough away from your starting point that water and some trail mix would be appreciated.  In addition to the flagship store, Powell’s has stores dedicated to technical books, home and garden books, and neighborhood branches in other parts of the city so that you don’t need to burn an ounce of foreign oil to get your books, which are probably printed on paper from the many clear cut forests of Oregon.  Kind of a Hobson’s Choice it would seem, but one that at least can provide for a dose of written enlightenment.  

Our 3 days in Portland were outstanding, it is a city that I look forward to going back to each and every opportunity I get.  

Beacons in a Storm

Many sailors over the years have looked for beacons in a storm.  Those lights in a distance that guided while providing assurance that civilization was there somewhere, through the fog, wind, and rain.  We have seen the source of a few of these beacons over the last week or so, but on Friday, we were in need of a beacon or two, metaphorically speaking.

 Let me explain by digressing.  As many of you know, it rains a bit in the Pacific Northwest.  Okay, it rains quite a bit.  For those of us who have essentially lived in a high desert climate for the last decade, this place can give you a vague sense that you might be Noah as you start ushering the two banana slugs at your campsite onto your ARK/V.  To say it rained on Friday would be an understatement, even by Oregon standards.  The National Weather Service called it the first big storm of the rainy season and it brought more than 2 inches of rain in the matter of a few hours.  After that, it just kept raining.

(There were two of these guys, so we could have started our 2 by 2)

So there we were, packing up one campsite in the rain, driving in the rain, stopping for lunch in the rain, driving again in the rain, and wondering where to camp next . . . in the rain.  Our spirits were much buoyed by the kind gentleman who ran the all things pirate shop in Cannon Beach (Maggie loves pirates and now has a new eye patch to show it), when he said: "Yup, it will probably do this until April or so."  Great.  Excellent timing.  Apparently our hopes at beating the winter weather were misplaced.  We were feeling a bit soggy and not looking forward to another night sitting in Francine while listening to the rain together with Maggie bouncing off the walls.

Fortunately for us, our beacons did appear, in the form of cheese (remember, we're from the midwest) and a Best Western Parking lot.  While driving through Tillamook, we saw the Tillamook Cheese Factory, followed closely by a Best Western.  Hmmmmm, a plan begins to form . . . 

Lisa: "what did that sign say?"

Jay: "I think it said 'RV parking, pool, spa, breakfast, and WiFi for $19.95."

Lisa: "are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Jay:  "Yes, Oh my God, Yes!"

(The Beacon)

Understand, $19.95 for an RV campsite is a good price, in fact, it is really good.  With that price usually comes an average site, no pool, no spa, no breakfast, and spotty WiFi.  While parking in a Best Western parking lot seems pretty depressing at first, when you realize you can exercise your 4 year old in a heated indoor pool, sit in a hot tub while it pours rain all night, and then kill a rainy morning eating biscuits and gravy and watching people make cheese and ice cream, it just may start to appear like Walt Disney showed up from the beyond to point the way.

Just like that we set up in site #5 at the Best Western, walked the dog, ate a quick dinner, and were splashing around in the heated pool, rain and cold forgotten.  And when the sun "rose" the next day with the rain still falling it was off to the Tillamook factory for a great time.  See, they have been making cheese and ice cream in Tillamook for about 100 some odd years, and let me tell you, they are pretty darn good at it.  It was like a little slice of Wisconsin with an ocean view.

(Midwestern girls run for their cheese)

By the way, it is still raining, mostly.  Did I mention the rain?  Okay, one more time.  When it mists here, you go outside and say to yourself "it's hardly raining", then you head back in and wonder, as you wring out your clothes, how you got so wet.  Given the rain, we decided to head inland, to Portland.  Here is is supposed to rain a bit less (you can walk, rather than swim), and there is a greater variety of indoor oriented activities if necessary.  Plus, if it really keeps up, we will just keep heading south, where things should dry out, at least by the time we hit the Mexican boarder.

(The Reward)

.

Certainly No Disappointment

Captain John Meares is probably the only person ever who has been disappointed by his visit to Cape Disappointment.  Captain Meares arrived on the southern Washington coast in 1788 and looked for a way to cross the huge river sandbar at the mouth of the Columbia river.  Due to his lack of success in this endeavor, he gave the area its name.

Captains Merriweather Lewis and William Clark were certainly not disappointed to arrive here in 1805, as it marked the end of their very long journey to the Pacific.  The Corp of Discovery stayed here for several days upon their arrival before crossing the Columbia to the south and setting up camp for the winter at Ft. Clatsop.  

For the visitor today, either by land or sea, the area is far from a disappointment.  The sandbar has been controlled by the construction of an amazing jetty and the natural beauty of the southern Washington coast is amazing.  Today, the area is Cape Disappointment State Park, with a big beach complete with driftwood shanties and teepees, cliffs that fall right into the sea, two lighthouses, a coastal forest, and a Lewis and Clark interpretive center and historic military battery.  We have spent the last four days at the park and it has been brilliant, one of the true jewels on our travels.  

For our journey, this stop also represents a milestone.  As of this stay, we have officially crossed the entire United States from east to west.  Four months ago, we we camping at Huntington Beach in South Carolina, staring out at the Atlantic Ocean.  This morning, we woke up to the roar of the mighty Pacific just beyond our campsite.  Our journey has covered 25 states and more than 20,000 miles in the last 6 1/2 months.  While our journey has certainly been far, far simpler, comfortable, and predictable than the Corp of Discovery's it still has been an eye opening and life changing one.  From a historical standpoint, it is both amazing and a bit disheartening to see and imagine the changes this country has undergone in the last 200 years.  However, what remains clear, is that a journey across this wonderful country of ours is still an amazing adventure.  The natural and human diversity of this place still remains startling at times.

Today we are beginning our drive down to Oregon Coast and are currently planning to stay in Cannon Beach, OR.  The Oregon Coast is a national treasure, particularly given that the entire coastline is open to the public; access that is guaranteed by Oregon Law.  We plan to camp on the coast for the next week or two, as we make our way to Redwoods National Park in Northern California.  While it is rainy today, we remain hopeful for sunny days ahead.

A Landing in the Emerald City

After a windy drive across western Montana, the Idaho Panhandle, and eastern Washington, Francine landed in the Emerald City with all her Munchkins safely aboard. We have done this drive before, a couple of times in fact, but the dramatic change in the landscape never fails to amaze me. You drives for miles across high desert, arid Mountain regions, and a few steep, green river valleys in the Idaho only to find more desert plains, more parched grass, and always more wind.

Just when you think this will go on forever, you start climbing, and in what seems like a blink of an eye, the color green begins to saturate your view. As we entered the Cascade range, Washington put on its most dramatic show, with clouds sprinting in and out of steep misty mountain valleys, rays of sunshine peeking through pine forests, and as you start to descend, Seattle unfolds before you, surrounded by the water. It truly is a wonderful juxtaposition.

Seattle is aptly nicknamed. It has been nearly 10 years since we have spent any time in this city and I had forgotten how wonderful it is. Wonderfully hilly neighborhoods of old houses, funky local shops and restaurants, vibrant gardens, and active, engaged, and intelligent people. While I tend to be personally skeptical of cities as possible long term living environs, if I were forced to choose a bigger city, Seattle would be at the top of the list.

The difference between this visit and our previous one was the weather, which has been amazing. Sunny, warm, and almost no rain. We have spent our time outside walking, sitting on our friends' porch, playing at the park, and touring the city. Yesterday was a quintessential day for us, we took a great walk around Green Lake, a city lake with a fabulous walking path around it. Given the weather, it was packed with a great cast of characters, both young and old. There were musicians, dancers, dancing rollerbladers, an old man on a recumbant bike "walking" a 4 pound dog, bearded guys in camo fishing for carp, voter registration tables, and a little kid going sailing with his dad while wearing his Darth Vader costume. Fabulous. And everyone was talking politics after the previous night's debate.

After our stroll we headed straight to the Pike Place Market, the epicenter of Seattle. If you like food, and who doesn't, Pike Place Market is heaven. We started out at Beechers for some of the finest macaroni and cheese on earth, moved on to have asian barbecued beef baked into bread, then on to some ice cream. In between, we saw flying sea food, acquired halibut, bread, vegetables, and flowers for dinner, checked out the original Starbucks complete with a significantly more racy logo than the current one, and listened to buskers playing everything from the Violent Femmes to Johnny Cash on a guitar and an accordion.

Today, after recovering from last night's festivities, which included a Maggie led dance party, we did absolutely nothing. We sat outside, enjoyed the phenomenal day, and spent time with good friends, both old and new. It has been a brilliant few days in the Emerald City, almost magic in fact.

Tomorrow we are off to explore more of Washington and looking forward to getting back into our road routine. As Dorothy said: "there is no place like home." Even if that home is an RV roaming across the country.

A Post for Team Panic

We purchased fuel here and thought of you.  Hope you are well and the future Team Panic member is coming along nicely . . . 

It Begins Again . . . Finally

Well folks, after fits, starts, stops, backtracking, foretracking, backpaining, wedding attending, and many other diversions, the Slow Lane is rolling again!  We are headed to Seattle tomorrow and will be spending the next couple month or two traveling the west coast.  We will be back to regular posting, with pictures and stories of the journey.  We appreciate all who read and are looking forward to sharing the next part of the journey with you.

Speaking of Following . . .

We have added a new feature on the right side of the blog for followers.  We always enjoy hearing from and knowing who is reading.  If you feel so inclined, please add yourself as a follower.

Follow Your Folly

There is a micro-brewery in Fort Collins, CO called the New Belgium Brewery.  They make excellent beer in a wind-powered, green, employee owned brewery, located just north of my parents house in Boulder, CO.  Over the last couple of years, they have had a really entertaining advertising campaign featuring the slogan "Follow Your Folly."  You can check out their website here:  www.followyourfolly.com

Don't worry, this post isn't an advertisement for 

New Belgium, nor did The Slow Lane sell out the blog to a massive corporate sponsorship deal to fund our journey (although a little extra coin would be nice).  No, this post is about the fact that for my 21st birthday (ahem), I decided to take New Belgium's advice.  I am following my folly.  Back in the day when I was still in grade school, and Ronald Reagan was president (see I really am 21), I was an avid skateboarder.  With a friendly group of miscreants, I would ride streets, curbs, and ramps all over the Greater Orono and Maple Plain area (we were big time).  They were fun times.  It was a good crew.  There were exhilarating runs down big "bomber"hills, which sometimes resulted in road rash, and there was the occasional broken bone when someone crashed down the roll in deck of a big half pipe.  But mostly, there were just long summer days spent riding your board all over the place.  Days when you arrived home tired, dirty, and happy.

In a fit of insanity (maybe inspired by New Belgium's products), I decided that I needed to relive those days a bit.  Who knew you could have a midlife crisis at 21?  Sure I have snowboarded for years, and even surfed the occasional break on a warm winter vacation, but I hadn't been on a skateboard in . . . well . . . at least 5 or 10 years (okay, maybe 15 or 20).  So what did I do? Well, I jumped on the trusty 'ole world wide web and ordered myself a 46 inch Arbor pin tail longboard, with Randall II trucks,  and Abec 11 wheels.  What does that mean exactly?  Even I don't fully know, but suffice it to say, the longboarding grandmother (true) who helped me pick it out says it is a great long cruising skateboard for an "older" skateboarder like me.  No more ramps, curbs, or pools for this camper, just some mellow sidewalk surfing is in order.

Operation Folly was initiated last week when I placed the order and then the waiting set in.  There truly is something to be said for not getting instant gratification.  I intentionally didn't choose to expedite the delivery, but rather accepted the offered ground shipping and bided my time.  I spent days thinking about my purchase and surprisingly, I felt no buyers remorse or sense of having come back to earth having been temporarily abducted by aliens.  No, I was genuinely excited.  I felt like a kid again and it felt good.

Yesterday was D-Day.  UPS so helpfully informed my that my package would arrive "sometime between 8 AM and 7 PM" and would have to be signed for.  They actually took the time to place an automated call to my cell phone to let me know that valuable information.  Phew, at least I didn't have to wait ALL day for it to arrive. (They make the cable guy look like an attorney billing every 6 minutes.)  So there I was, arms deep in skinning a chicken for an Indian feast when the UPS man arrived.  Then, I really felt like a kid again.  Cutting open the box, pulling out the goods, and trying on my new helmet for fit (I thought the helmet a prudent idea, given the circumstances).

After getting everything set up, it was off to the driveway for a test ride.  Surprisingly, it was a bit like riding a bike.  I actually didn't feel like a total beginner and was soon swerving around the cul-du-sac like a pro.  Well, at least as pro-like as a XX year old with 20 pounds to lose and two bulging disks in his back can look.  Nonetheless, it was a blast.  Even more so because I could put Maggie on the board with me and listen to her yell, cheer, and giggle as we carved some turns down the driveway.  At the end of our little session, we both were a little tired, a little dirty, and very happy.

So, here is to following your folly, which is what I will be doing on the next leg of the journey.  Carving down the sidewalks, bike paths, and RV parks of the Pacific Northwest.

Let the Games Begin!!!!!

Every fall a great event begins.  Across the nation families, friends, and co-workers come together in a spirit of sportsmanship and competition to drink beer, scream at the TV, and lament the fate of their chosen squad of football warriors.  I am no different . . . except . . . I bring my own cheering section.

All I can say is: GO VIKINGS!!!!!!

Piloting the V8 Prairie Schooner

After many fits and starts, the Slow Lane is headed back west.  While we have been west, then east, then west, then east, we are now really headed west for the rest of the journey.  To kick off the final phase (maybe) of the journey, we loaded up Sasquatch, our V8 Prairie Schooner and headed out across the Great Plains.  While we have previously crisscrossed both North Dakota and South Dakota, we had not made the journey across Nebraska, the gateway to the west, the manifest destiny superhighway.

In my past as a student at the University of Colorado, I had crossed Nebraska more times than I care to count.  In the early days, it was at least twice a year, as I stormed across the state in the middle of the night, headed home to Minnesota for Christmas, Spring Break, Summer Vacation, or other school season hiatuses. One year, in a fit of lunacy, I actually drove to Minnesota for the weekend, a feat I do not long to repeat.

 In fact, I can still tell you roughly where I am in Nebraska, just by looking at the scenery along I-80.  This is surprising to me, given the relative lack of scenery by mountain living standards, but goes to show that the subtle geography of place still exists in our ever developing world.  I always remember the feedlot west of North Platte, the hill country between Omaha and Lincoln, and the flat prairies between Grand Island and Kearny that roll past as the lush green of the midwest slowly morphs into the faded brown of the late summer west. This time, I only realized post haste that the Maranantha sign and white cross that used to adorn the roadside in central Nebraska is no longer there.  Or maybe it is and I just didn’t notice as the road blur lulled me into near oblivion.

When I was younger, Nebraska was to be crossed as quickly as possible.  Especially once I started long distance dating my then future wife, who still resided in Minnesota ( a fact I couldn’t fully comprehend at the time).  Today, with a child, a dog, and slower pace, we actually take a bit of time across Nebraska.  And while it isn’t a world tourist destination by most people’s accounts, there are some interesting sights to see, both kitschy and otherwise.  You could opt for the world’s largest ball of stamps, the Kool Aid museum, or Carhenge (yes, a Stonehenge of cars) if you so choose, but you can also get a sense of what it was like for the pioneers who traversed Nebraska on the Oregon Trail, the Mormon Trail, the Pony Express route; American pioneers in search of wealth, opportunity, and religious freedom.  For example, in Gothenburg, NE, you can see a sod house preserved from the 1800s and truly appreciate how hard frontier living was.

One way to experience a bit of Nebraska’s travel history is offered up in an unusual package.  As you drive down I-80 near Kearny, you will see a bizarre, giant highway overpass called the Great Platte River Road Archway Monument.  For those if you who have traveled across Illinois (God help you), the Archway Monument looks like one of those crazy highway rest stops built over the interstate, but it’s a museum, not a Starbucks, McDonald’s, and Cinnabun all rolled into one blood pressure and cholesterol increasing gas station.

As we have passed the Archway over the years we have always said: “we should stop at that place someday.”  Well, as one of Maggie’s favorite books so eloquently reminds us, “someday is not a day of the week.”  So, in a nod to the spirit of the Slow Lane, we gave this particular someday a permanent place on our calendar and stopped.  It was well worth it.  Through a series of exhibits, video clips, and an audio tour, this little museum takes you on a guided journey of the history of travel across Nebraska, starting with the pioneers and leading right up to the construction of the Interstate Highway System.  The museum - which sits very near the original site of Ft. Kearny, a way station for weary travelers of days gone by - is incredibly well done.  Maggie particularly enjoyed the authentic replica of a 60s diner, which is perched high above the cars speeding by on the highway below.

Over my many years of taking driving trips around the country, I can’t tell you how many times I have driven by something, only to offer up the almost reflexive: “we should stop and check that place out sometime.”  If you have experienced something similar, the best advice I can give you is this: STOP.  These little diversions are almost always short, interesting, and memorable.  They will stick with you.  You will laugh about them later.  You WILL remember them, no matter how silly.  As we continue to learn time and again on this trip, the journey is the destination.

A Family Tradition

In my family, like all families, we have a few holiday traditions.  Growing up, we had ham on Christmas Eve and Turkey on Christmas Day.  We would cut our own tree.  We would open presents on Christmas Eve.

You may be wondering why I am writing about holiday traditions in August.  The answer is because yesterday our family engaged in our most sacred, long running, and important (at least from my mother's point of view), family tradition.  We took the family Christmas picture.

For as long as I can remember, there was a family Christmas picture.  Back in the early days, this was a relatively simple affair involving my sister and me and our dogs.  It was over and done with pretty quick and you didn't complain because you were reminded that Santa would remember if you did.  Clearly, you weren't gonna roll the dice on that one.

Over the years, as husbands, wives, grandchildren, dogs, cats and fish have been added to the family capturing the family photo has become more complex.  Add in the fact that my parents are in Boulder, CO; my sister, her husband, and their 4 children are in Delano, MN; and Lisa, Maggie and I are often hanging out with Dick Cheney in "undisclosed" locations across the country and taking the family photo becomes a logistical nightmare requiring the quartermaster general skills of Major General Nathanael Greene. 

That nightmare used to be compounded by the fact that it was not enough to just show up.  No, no, no.  This photo had to be coordinated.  Khaki pants this year.  Red shirts that year.  Hula skirts the next year and lederhosen after that.  That's 6 adults, 5 kids, 4 dogs, 1 cat, and several fish (okay we don't really put the fish in the picture).  Now try to get them all dressed, cleaned, hair combed, and happy into a line.  Then try to keep them from diving onto the ground after the dogs run away for the fifth time while the photographer (usually some poor, unexpecting neighbor or friend who has been suckered into the task) struggles to compose.  Oh, and I forgot to remind you, you BETTER HAVE A GOOD ATTITUDE TOO!!!

While the family photo is still a REQUIRED tradition, the standards have fortunately been relaxed a wee bit.  Grandma doesn't require coordinated outfits anymore.  Pets are mercifully excused. But, you still better show up and you still better not complain . . . well too much.  Actually, we all complain.  In fact, we whine like babies.  That has become, as much a part of the tradition.  We march around the house ordering people out to the picture location.  We call grandma the general.  We groan, we moan, we make a big old stink out of it.  It is just part of the fun.  To make up for our whining, my mom now seeks to take advantage of every opportunity to take a family portrait.  This may be a bit of secret punishment for our complaining.  In fact, last nights picture was the 14th family photo we have taken this year.  She justifies this by saying things like: "well, Maggie was three months younger when we took the last picture, see how much she's grown?"  Or, "that last picture was just for me, this one is the ACTUAL Christmas picture."

So last night, we all lined up in t-shirts, shorts, flip flops, and bad hair to get the quarterly Christmas card picture taken.  And you know what?  It was actually, despite the required moaning and complaining, relatively painless.  We can thank digital photography for that. Grandma can see right away whether she has gotten what she wants.  In the old days, you burned through 13 rolls of film, just to be sure.

The last thing you need to know about the family picture is this.  It is classified.  Top secret stuff that is "eyes only" for Nana, right up until the cards go in the mail.  It doesn't matter if you are blood, you won't know if you have buggers hanging out of your nose until that baby arrives in you mailbox (and the mailboxes of the other 237 people who get a card.)

The great thing about long running traditions is you can add new twists to them to spice things up and keep it fresh.  This year, I decided to add a new component to the tradition.  I have decided to start to try to steal the picture before it goes to press and leak the photo (anonymously of course), to certain well respected press outlets.  In the first year of adding in this tradition, I am happy to report that I have succeeded.  I have successfully "obtained" the family Christmas picture from unnamed sources.

So, without further ado, I bring you the family Christmas picture in all of it's unvarnished glory.  No "Peace on Earth," no "Happy Holidays" or garland boarders to soften the glare . . . 

No, obviously that is not the family picture (at least as far as you know), that is just a picture of a cool caterpillar.  Did you seriously think I would show it?  No way.  I am not nearly that brave.  Because while the picture is a serious tradition, so is food, drink, and presents at Christmas time and I don't dare jeopardize that.

Oh to be 3 (. . . going on 4)

The life of a three (almost 4) year old is filled with wonder, awe . . . and teenage angst? There are days when it seems Maggie is 3 going on 13. One minute she is laughing and having fun, the next she is crying with her lower lip out so far she might actually trip on it, all while yelling at me that she will never speak to me again. It is a constant job to keep her busy but not too busy. Boredom and over-stimulation lead to equally large meltdowns.

After a few weeks of fun with her cousins, Maggie, Zoe and I went to the lake for a visit with Grandma and Grandpa on Lake Hubert. Maggie usually enjoyes reveling in the one on one attention she receives at the lake, but this time she really missed the constant activity of her cousins and their neighborhood. The first full day here we got out all of Maggie's toys including her tea set, dolls, bean bag toss game, books and puzzles. Grandpa made the driveway safe to ride her tricycle and scooter. He also readied his boat for a ride around the lake. We pumped up the tires on Grandma's bike and the trailer so I could ride it to Nisswa a few miles away. After peddling my way, trailering Maggie, to Nisswa, playing tea party, reading and puzzling with Maggie and joining her on a boat ride, I decided I wanted to sit and check my e-mail. 

Grandma and Grandpa had played a ton with her and needed a break as well. Maggie did not like this idea at all. After I told her for the 3rd time that I didn't want to play dolls, she looked at me, rolled her eyes, threw head head back and indignantly cried - YOU HAVEN'T PLAYED WITH ME ALL DAY!  As she stomped her foot, crossed her arms in front of her, and pouted, I thought to myself, boy she needs a friend to play with today. What I said to her was "HUH????" and  proceeded to review the day with Maggie, pointing out all the things we did together. I also glanced at the clock to see if it cocktail hour and/or bed time yet. Unfortunately, Nope. What are we going to do???

Enter Lilia. A few cabins down from my parents place their friends, the Holbrooks, reside. Jay, Maggie and I have spent some wonderful evening chatting with John and Mary Holbrook. Often, those conversations revolve around Lilia, their grand-daughter who lives in Germany. She and Maggie are a lot alike. They are both almost 4. They both talk like 8 or 9 year olds. They both keep all adults on their toes. We always finish the conversation saying one of these days we'll have to get the girls together.

Fortunately, on this trip, we are all at the lake at the same time. The very next morning, (yes I made it through the night, after swimming in the lake with Maggie and Zoe, and then somehow making it to her bed time) we called the Holbrooks to see when Lilia could play. Thankfully, she needed some playtime too. Though still jet lagged, Lilia came over for a few hours of playtime with Maggie. The girls ran through thousands of bubbles generated by the Gazillion Bubble Machine (one of the best inventions around, in my opinion). Then they worked on puzzles and played with the kitchen set. 

Then we really got into it and made M&M cookies. The girls helped put the ingredients in the bowl and then, after I scooped the dough onto the cookie sheets, the girls added "the right" amount of M&Ms on each cookie. 

Once we cleaned up the kitchen, it was time to head back outside for another round of bubble dancing. This time the girls wanted to use the sand toys to scoop and pour water while I made Oobleck (a science experiment from my teaching days). By the time Lilia went home, both girls

 were worn out! 

The girls decided a few days later that they would like to play together again. This time we went to Lilia's house. There, the girls hunted for toads in the window wells, caught fish in the lake and watched them swim around in a washtub. They made large Lego compounds, played with puzzles and chased each other around the house. Much time was spent keeping toys away from Johanna, Lilia's younger sister, but it was all part of the fun. Then Lilia's dad, who is a chemist, made Glup which is like Silly Putty. After all that activity, the girls began to feel a little grumpy and we decided it was time for lunch. Both girls wanted Macaroni and Cheese - not surprisingly. Fortified for the afternoon the girls decided to try their hand at Turtle Racing in Nisswa. 

                                

While neither of the girls won their heat, both had a blast. They cheered their turtles on like champions and consoled each other over a large chocolate ice cream cones.  

If it weren't for Lilia and her family, I might have lost more of my mind. Not only did I walk away, both days, with a tired and mostly sated girl, but I also got to chat (albeit with many interruptions) with Jill and Thorsten, Lilia's parents. It was great getting to know them and their daughters. Hopefully we can coordinate our vacations to lake in the future and spend more time keeping the pouty lips at bay. 

A Tall Tale and Oxen a Plenty

Since 1910 the legend of Paul Bunyan has delighted children of all ages. I can remember listening to stories about the giant lumberjack and his faithful companion Babe the Blue Ox as I was growing up. While there are some arguments as to the true birthplace of Paul, I know of nowhere else that has as many statues and references to the giant as the Brainerd Lakes area does. As we travel around in the north woods of Minnesota there are constant reminders of this legend. In Pine River there are a pair of Paul's baby booties, which you can stand in, as well as a pair of his boots which you can lace. 

In Akeley, MN they claim to have his razor and several other things that belonged to him. And as recent as a few years back, Paul Bunyan Land, a theme park devoted to Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox was located right in the heart of Brainerd. MN. (In recent years Paul, Babe and the park were moved a few miles away to make room for "progress" in the form of Kohls department store.) Paul still talks when you visit him and he even knows your name. This delighted Maggie to no end! 

There are many shops and restaurants in the area that refer to the Bunyan Legend, including our favorite, the Chocolate Ox ice cream parlor in Nisswa. Most restaurants refer to the different size cuts of beef as Paul, Babe or Paulina (Paul's girlfriend). Don't get the Paul cut unless you are REALLY hungry!  The rails to trails program in the Brainerd Lakes Area converted to old railroad tracks into a walking and biking path that runs 100 miles from Brainerd, MN to Bemidji, MN. The path is named the Paul Bunyan Trail. In Bemidji, the trail leads to Bemidji State Park and from there you can connect to the Blue Ox trail as well as the Heartland trail. 

Today we spent time in Pequot Lakes. It may be best known around these parts for it's water tower which is shaped and painted to look like a fishing bobber. Wouldn't you know it, but the bobber is said to have gotten caught on a construction tower there when Paul was fishing in a nearby Whitefish lake. He fought Notorious Nate the 40 foot Northern Pike, but Nate got the better of Paul's hook and broke Paul's line. The line with the bobber went flying back and caught on the tower, where it still sits today.  Now, in addition to the bobber, there is a new attraction that sits just below the tower. It is a giant chair and a statue of Babe. Maggie has a new fascination in the Paul Bunyan Legends as of late, and sitting in this chair amazed her. To read the legend of Paul Bunyan check out this website.  http://www.paulbunyantrail.com/talltale.html

As I mentioned in front of Paul's large chair was a very fancy Babe statue. As I gazed upon the statue I realized that it reminded me of similar statues I had seen on our travels. As we have traveled the country we have noticed that there is a public art initiative involving animal statues. They are beautifully painted and catch your eye as you drive through an area. It is amazing to see how many different ways there are to paint the same statue. We have seen bears in Cherokee, NC near the Great Smoky Mountains, buffaloes in Buffalo, MN and now oxen in the north woods of MN. There are also horses in Billings, MT, Grizzly Bears in Missoula, MT, buffalo in West Yellowstone and winged horses in Kitty Hawk, NC. Many of these brightly decorated animals will be displayed for the summer and then put up for auction in the fall, with the proceeds going to local charities. You can find out more about these art initiatives at www.fiberstock.com. It is company in Buffalo. MN that produces the fiberglass statues. 

Babe was the first one of these art installations that we have seen up close. Apparently there are 22 other statues in the surrounding cities and here they are only on display until Labor Day. Then they will be auctioned off to raise money for The Crossing Arts Alliance which has identified a need in area communities and will use funds raised through this project to expand, offer and implement art classes for K-12 students in Lakes Area schools. With my background in teaching and Maggie's love of art we have seriously considered buying one of these statues and putting it in the yard of my parent's lake home. In order to make an educated decision as to which Babe would suit my parents yard the best, we decided to drive around and see as many oxen as we could find. Maggie was constantly on the lookout for Babe and she would strive to be the first one in the car to spot the statue. Here are some photos from our Lakes Area search.