Mountain People

By now many of you know that Owen and I have moved to the Santa Cruz mountains. What you may not know is that it all started with a scam! Back in August, driven to near madness in our tiny apartment, we started the hunt for a new place. We came across a rare specimen early on: a nice three-bedroom house for $2,200 a month. That is unheard of here. We were ecstatic for about two hours... then we sat down to email the owner with some questions. His response was brimming with grammar mistakes, included a weird explanation about why the rent was so cheap, and concluded with a note that we couldn’t actually tour the inside of the house. A few minutes of searching later and we found another listing for the same house (the real listing) for $4,000 a month. Doh! 

We were still determined to find a new place, so the next promising house we came across we applied to without even seeing first. Pets were allowed but not preferred, so in our application I mentioned we had Denali, “a quiet, well behaved dog.” A week or so later, we were able to check it out. Turns out Denali is not well behaved when she’s visiting a new house filled with new smells. She was pulling on the leash so hard that we could barely slow down to get a good look at the place. We saw enough on our speed tour to know that we loved it though, and told the owners such. Somehow, Denali’s behavior didn’t deter them and we got it!

Not sure who was more excited to move- us or her

We had plenty of time- about a month- to prep for the move. I polled friends about their moving experiences, procured cardboard boxes from work, gathered supplies, and obsessively researched and took notes on the best ways to pack. That is to say, I did pretty much everything except pack. Finally, the night before moving day we could delay no more. Besides a few pesky items that just did not want to be packed, it was actually not that bad. I’m pretty sure it’s taken us longer to pack for some backpacking trips. The next day, loading everything into the U-Haul, was when the real work started. We tackled the hardest thing first: lowering our enormous couch off the balcony, which was the only way to get it out. Somehow we got it down without dropping it on my head. Things got a little easier once Owen reminded me of the proper way to lift heavy objects (turns out you’re not supposed to use your back) but it was still one of the most exhausting things I’ve ever done. 

Scoping out her new living quarters

After everything was moved out we went back to our old apartment one last time to clean and turn in our keys. If standing in the empty apartment that you’ve lived in for four years doesn’t make you reflect on your life, I don’t know what will. As excited as I was to move to the mountains, I still felt a little nostalgic leaving. It was our home during so many milestones, both good and bad, like getting engaged, surviving unemployment, starting multiple new jobs, getting married, adopting a dog, and sheltering in place. Starbird Circle, you’ve treated us well!

We’ve been in our new house for about a month now and in that time we’ve lost power twice, picked thousands of burrs off Denali, and I’ve gone on countless terrifying runs in the early morning darkness. We could not be happier. The past month we’ve spent most of our time settling in and exploring our surroundings. Our road is closed about a mile further down because a new bridge is being installed, but I can sneak through the construction fencing and continue along. There are all sorts of homes tucked into the woods and down in the hollows. One driveway has a menacing warning sign: “No trespassing. Thieves and looters will be shot on site and prosecuted upon survival.”  There’s a rustic lodge that isn’t currently operating but used to be a nudist colony. There’s a couple homes for sale nearby, some that are huge luxury estates, others that are little shacks practically falling off cliffs. In our general vicinity there’s a Christmas tree farm where locals walk their dogs, some great mountain biking trails, and a couple farm stands with ice-cold apple cider. Best of all, just a couple miles away there’s a little mountain grocery store that has everything your heart could desire: ice cream bars, fresh sandwiches, and wood-fired pizzas.

Hiking at the Christmas tree farm

Our driveway (it's steeper than it looks!)

We did venture farther out a few weeks ago, to Sonora Pass, the highest point on Route 108 which traverses through the Sierra Nevada mountains. We headed south on the Pacific Crest Trail with a plan to bag Leavitt Peak, then camp at a lake below. It was around 50 degrees when we started our trip and only got colder from there. I experimented with all sorts of combinations of hat, hood, and buff to try to keep my face warm as we fought through the wind on our way up to Leavitt Peak. Denali, for the most part, was completely unaffected by the wind and bitter cold. She was not a fan of the loose rock and scree though. Normally, she hikes out in front of us pulling on her leash. But on the sketchier sections she followed closely behind Owen, nervously darting through the steep parts. By the time we made it off the peak the temperature was starting to plummet so we raced to camp, wolfed down dinner and retreated into our sleeping bags. That night, the wind howled through the mountains and valleys around us, sounding downright evil. I donned almost all my layers and sealed myself into my sleeping bag. Nothing was going to make me get out of the tent until morning, bladder be damned. The next morning as we hiked out in even more wind, I realized that as much type two fun as we were having, it was probably our last trip camping in the mountains before the winter fully sets in.

We had our pick of lakes to camp at

Social distancing at its best on Leavitt Peak

Warming up in the sun

So what did I do with my free day off last week? I went camping in the mountains. I should clarify: I technically went glamping. I had some reservations shelling out a decent chunk of money to sleep in a glorified tent, but the experience was pretty grand. Sure, there was still all the usual outdoors stuff to deal with like bugs, freezing cold temperatures, and squirrels that sound like bears in the darkness. But there was also running water, toilet paper, a real mattress, a hammock, and a table to sit at. So will I stop backpacking and camping? Hell no. But I may not be as quick to dismiss glamping in the future.

I think I could get used to this...

My humble abode

Now it’s that odd time of year where it gets dark at 5pm and I start wondering how early is too early to go to bed. But honestly, I can’t complain. We’ve got nearly a cord of wood to burn in our woodstove, a supersized tub of hot chocolate mix, and a few good books. For the first time in awhile, I don’t mind staying in.

Another Day in Paradise

You know how sometimes the best trips get off to the rockiest of starts? Back in July we were all set to leave for a 10-day trip to the Pacific Northwest, except there was one little problem: Denali’s stomach was revolting. So we did what any couple desperate to escape a tiny apartment during shelter in place would do: we delayed our departure by a day and prayed to the husky gods that her stomach would settle down.

Something we did worked, and the next day she was back to her normal self. Our plan was slightly ambitious: we would drive up to northern Oregon, backpack the 40-mile Timberline Trail around Mt. Hood, visit our friends in their new house outside of Seattle, and then drive 850 miles home in one go. There were quite a few things that could go wrong, in addition to Denali’s stomach issues. We could have car troubles, a forest fire could start near Mt. Hood, the trail could be covered in snow, the river crossings could be impassable, the mosquitoes could drive us mad, Denali might not have enough stamina to finish, and the list of worries goes on. And there was that little thing called COVID that we needed to avoid too.

The Timberline Trail is one big loop and we started at the Timberline Lodge. We passed a few backpackers early on who were about to finish the trail. One warned us about an upcoming river crossing that required a “trust fall onto a huge boulder” and he looked a little shaken up. But most others seemed happy and serene, so I took that as a good sign. There were so many highlights those first few days. We hiked through dense Cascade forest, there were infinite streams for Denali to swim in, and we had view after view of all the nearby volcanoes. But if I’m being completely honest, the first couple days were also pretty brutal. We planned to hike the trail over five days, averaging about eight miles a day. I know that sounds pretty slow, but we wanted to be conservative since we weren’t sure what Denali could handle. What we didn’t account for was how heavy five days of food for two people and a dog would be. I don’t know exactly how much our packs weighed, but mine was heavy enough that I let out an involuntary groan each time I put it on. 

The trail was lined with wildflowers

Denali found a hidden waterfall

Classic PNW mossy stream

The river crossings also presented a challenge, as I predicted. We had an audience for our first major one: two backpackers were intrigued to see how Denali would get across, and we had no issues there. But many of the other crossings had logs, most of them precarious, narrow, and slick. The type that a human could possibly navigate carefully across with the aid of trekking poles, but we had no idea if Denali was nimble enough to balance on them. Our approach the first time we came across this scenario was to have Owen guide her across, holding her up by the top strap of her backpack, which she was not a fan of. For the rest of the major rivers, we usually let Denali cross in the water while we rock hopped or balanced on logs, and she seemed to have an easier time than us.

Cooling off in a glacial stream

Napping in the water during a quick break

On day three, we were determined to make it to the shelter at Cooper Spur, which was at one of the highest points on the trail and supposedly had excellent views of Mt Hood. Cooper Spur also had no water, and was situated at the top of a long, steep, sandy climb. Owen was hauling so much water up that hill that he couldn’t stand up straight and I burst out laughing, mostly from exhaustion, but also a little bit from watching him hike all stooped over. It was only after the trip, when I studied the elevation profile of the trail, that I realized why we were so tired those first few days: it was pretty much all uphill.

 

Taking a snow bath

The last two days, with all the major climbing behind us, we flew down the trail- sometimes almost literally. At one point, the sandy trail was too hot for Denali’s paws, so we sprinted through the sunny spots and rested in the shade. I have never sprinted with a full pack before, and let me tell you, it was not my most graceful moment. Our last night on the trail we celebrated with an epic three-course feast consisting of cheese and crackers for hors d'oeuvres, macaroni and cheese for the main course, and freeze-dried dark chocolate cheesecake for dessert, washed down with raspberry ice flavored water. It was all very gourmet, as you can imagine. 

Near the trail's high point

Almost at the trail's end: we did it!

We completed the loop early the next morning and with all day ahead of us we decided to take the long way to get to our friend’s house in North Bend, Washington. Using our trusty National Geographic Road Atlas, we mapped out a route in the mountains that steered clear of I-5. We drove along the Columbia River Gorge and then gorged at Backwoods Brewing Company where we made quick work to replenish any calories lost on the trail. We even got an unexpected view of Mount St. Helens. Things started to go south shortly thereafter. Turns out the scenic route was actually all National Forest Service roads, which were remote and beautiful, but perhaps not the best option when you want to cover 200-plus miles in an afternoon. After several hours of navigating pothole-ridden semi-paved roads and a mild temper tantrum from Owen, we finally arrived at Madeline and Evan's house. 

What I saw next can only be described as a bare-footed, bearded hobbit waving merrily from the entrance to his cabin in the woods. (In case you're wondering, that hobbit was named Evan.) We spent the next several days at their cabin living not that differently from hobbits: we ate and drank liberally, we wandered through the woods, and we caught up as only old friends can do. Denali was pretty content there too- she rotated between taking up their entire couch, sleeping in a dark, cool hallway she commandeered as her den, and searching for microscopic crumbs in their kitchen. One night, we prepared a meal so elaborate that according to the recipe it should have taken days to cook. We took a few shortcuts and you know what? It was still one of the most delicious home-cooked meals I’ve ever had. 

Making herself at home

I could not get over the view from their backyard! Photo credit: Madeline

Happy to be back on the trails. Photo credit: Madeline

That Monday, we had to do the grueling drive home: 850 miles and 16 hours including stops. The next morning, still pretty worn down from our long drive, I slept in a bit then logged onto my computer to start the workday. I had blocked off the first couple hours to tackle email. But something caught my eye immediately: a random, reoccurring 9am meeting had been placed on my calendar, organized by someone I didn’t recognize. Odd, but I figured I had been added by accident. I got back to the tedious work of sorting through hundreds of emails that had come in the past week. Eventually, I came across several emails from another person I didn’t recognize, giving me access to different systems I’d never heard off. Also very odd. Finally, I found an email that solved the mystery: I had been activated as a Disaster Service Worker, which is government-speak for saying I’d been pulled from my regular job to work on COVID-19.

I’ve worked in local government long enough to know about the Disaster Service Worker fine print. Hell, I’ve even taken training classes about it. But I never actually thought I would get assigned as a DSW. This may sound dramatic, but in that moment it felt like my world was crashing down. After four months of working from home and enjoying all the perks that come with it, I had to go back to the office full-time. It’s been almost two months since I was activated, and I’ve settled into my new routine at the Emergency Operations Center. Luckily I’m not working directly with the public. My role is behind the scenes, managing a volunteer database. There are surely some benefits to being in the office: free donuts every Friday, an ergonomic sit-stand desk, and the type of satisfaction from completing a task with my teammates that only comes from working in person together. As my new manager likes to say each morning, “it’s another day in paradise.” There's a hint of sarcasm there, but I still can't tell how much.

By now I’m sure you’ve seen the news about the wildfires here. A pandemic, civil unrest, and now some of the worst wildfires in history. What could happen next? My coworker likes to remind me that scientifically speaking, California is supposed to fall off into the ocean one of these days. In the midst of all this was Labor Day weekend. If you’ve read my blog long enough, you know that adventuring is pretty much mandatory for us on holiday weekends. So I scoured the fire maps, checked for closures, and finally settled on a place to go backpacking that wasn’t currently on fire or about to be on fire. Approaching the trailhead in the Carson-Iceberg Wilderness, I second guessed our choice. The forest looked like it had been torched by a wildfire just a year or two ago. We were supposed to hike to a gorgeous backcountry lake, and I worried it’d be just one big burnt forest, an image I was trying to escape from. The other cars at the trailhead were a good sign though, and we hit the trail hopeful. We made it out to the lake pretty quickly, and set up a near perfect basecamp overlooking the water complete with a rock for a makeshift kitchen table and a perch for Denali. The only thing missing was blue skies. The next morning we decided to explore Spicer Meadow Reservoir, which looked close on the map but in reality was about 300 nearly vertical feet below our camp. There was no easy way down, and having Denali made it a little more complicated. At one particularly precarious point, Denali tried to climb on our heads to get down. When we finally reached the lake, we were rewarded with a perfect swimming spot all to ourselves. 

Looking down at the reservoir

Somewhere in the wilderness 

Admiring her valley of squirrels 

So what's next? Are we packing up and leaving California, as some have suggested we do? Not yet. For better or for worse, we are not ready to leave this state and there are still adventures to be had.

The Summer of Social Distancing

I last wrote back in May, back when Zoom fatigue wasn’t a household term yet, when a small part of me still thought I’d get on a plane in August to fly to a friend’s wedding, and when some serious investigative work was needed to figure out where to camp or backpack legally in California. I was so proud of myself for finding a stretch of the PCT north of Lake Tahoe that appeared to be open and snow-free for a Memorial Day weekend trip. My bubble was burst pretty quickly when a couple pulled up alongside us at the trailhead and casually mentioned we’d probably get a hefty parking ticket. I decided whatever fine we got would be worth it, and we set off. 

The fierce wolf stare

My prediction for a snow free trail was correct and we had a pretty low-key trip, doing short enough daily mileage to allow for naps and creek soaks. There was just one hiccup, and that happened the first night. Owen, Denali, and I were heading back to our tent after an evening walk when Denali dove off the trail into the woods, barking hysterically, and practically tore the leash out of Owen’s hand. There was an animal at our tent and my mind felt like it was moving in slow motion as I tried to identify it: light brown color, deer? No, too small. It must be... bear! But I've got to confess that it probably wasn't a coincidence: we hadn't yet stored Denali's food in our bear canister, and it was probably attracted to the scent. Luckily, we shooed it off before it had a chance to score a free meal, but this served as a sobering reminder for us. When we finally got back to the car a couple days later, I braced myself for an expensive piece of paper on the dashboard, but it turns out we got lucky a second time: no ticket!

North Bound on the PCT

Cooling off after a day's hike

After that, we had a couple camp-free weekends, one of which included an epic four hour long wedding shower Zoom call. I also continued my new experiment of screenless Sundays (inspiration here). It's pretty self explanatory: you don’t use any devices with screens for a day. It’s challenging, but it’s a surefire way to guarantee that I don’t spend hours googling things like “do dogs need to wear sunscreen?” or aimlessly sifting through Airbnb listings that I can’t afford. So if I don’t text you back on a Sunday, now you know why. I’m probably busy dusting my plants or trying to train Denali not to chase squirrels (like trying to train a fish not to swim). 

Sunset hike in the Santa Cruz Mountains nearby

In late June, I got invited to go camping with Owen’s friends from work. Normally, these are guys-only trips, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Steaks for every meal? Beer with breakfast? We left after work on a Friday and pulled into the parking lot late, around 10pm. As soon as I stepped foot out of the car, I knew this wasn’t going to be a normal camping trip. There was music blasting and trucks rumbling in the distance. This was my initiation into the four-wheeling community. I continued to be surprised the next day, when Owen and I hiked alongside his friends driving their Land Rovers over obstacles. For the 99% of people reading this that don’t know what the definition of an obstacle is in the context of four-wheeling, an obstacle usually comes in the form of a pile of enormous boulders, oftentimes on an extremely steep slope, that you somehow drive a vehicle over without dying. We saw several other groups tackling the obstacles too, and there were lots of American flags, the occasional Trump sign, and of course, cheap beer. It was an unusual trip indeed, but I arrived home with dirt under my fingernails and the inner calm that only comes when camping under a sky full of stars, all signs of a successful weekend.

Can you find Denali?

We joke that she's secretly a crocodile

We had barely aired out our sleeping bags from that trip when it was time to leave for the next one on the long 4th of July weekend. Last year for the 4th, Owen and I tried to backpack the Four Lakes Loop in northern California, only to get turned around by several feet of snow partway through the loop. This year, we were coming back for redemption. Even with snow-free trails, the first day was rough. By dinner time, we were seriously feeling the 4,000 feet of elevation we’d gained, and we still weren’t at Summit Lake, where we aimed to camp. Instead, we found a wooded area alongside a gorgeous grassy meadow and called it a day. The next morning, we figured Summit Lake would be just minutes down the trail. As we climbed over an unexpected pass, I scanned the horizon, looking for water. Finally we came across what can only be described as a large puddle. “Is this Summit Lake?” Owen asked hesitantly. Eventually, we arrived at a legitimate lake. Success! But as we pumped water and ate snacks, I eyed the map suspiciously. Summit Lake was supposed to be huge, and this lake, while larger than a puddle, was not what I would classify as huge. I called out to a group of people camping nearby, asking if we were at Summit Lake. “This lake doesn’t have a name, but you’re almost at Echo Lake.” Echo Lake? Owen and I stared blankly at each other. That must not be on our map, I thought. I quickly searched the map, and realized with horror that Echo Lake was on our map, just in the complete opposite direction from Summit Lake. 

Siligo Meadow

I think we all wanted to curl up and lay in the grass

We ended up hiking around 11 miles that day, first retracing our steps from our epically stupid mistake, then completing the 6-mile Four Lakes Loop. That night, I was so tired I couldn’t stand up to brush my teeth. But the loop was incredible, and when we hit Diamond Lake, with its sparkling water and grassy shore surrounded by jagged peaks, I decided that this was my favorite part of California. I’m pretty sure Denali was a fan too: there were chipmunks to chase, lakes to swim in, and even a few lingering snow patches to roll around on. And while we did finish the loop, I’m not sure you can classify it as a total redemption..We might just have to hike it again next year, to clear up any misgivings...

Deer Lake

Diamond Lake

Somehow, Owen was still standing

Overall, it's been a strange summer, but for the first time in a long time it truly feels like summer. I'm staying up late reading books, eating more meals outside, and most importantly, frequenting our local ice cream shop. Maybe it's a byproduct of working from home or having more time, but I'm definitely not complaining.

Shelter in Place (Or in a Tent)

For nearly the past four years, I’ve been blogging about our adventures. Hiking, backpacking, motorcycle trips. In short, traveling. So all that’s been on pause, right? Welllll… kind of. The first couple weeks of shelter in place, we really tried to stay home. There are a few rainy weekends that are just blank stretches in my mind. I can’t remember a single thing we did. Plus, my motivation to get outside was pretty much zilch. Then, we started exploring some dog-friendly local parks we’d never been to. At one park, we found out just how much Denali loves digging. At another, we learned that she’s got a solid doggie paddle. 

The aftereffects of a digging bender 

One weekend, we branched out a little farther to go backpacking in Los Padres National Forest in Big Sur. Denali was a trooper, hanging in there for seven uphill miles the first day. We were all feeling it by the time we got to camp. She dozed by the fire that night, but when it was time to go to bed for real in the tent she was wide awake, sitting up every time she heard a noise outside. They say huskies aren’t good guard dogs because they’re too friendly, but I swear if a squirrel or mouse approached our tent she would have crashed through the mesh to “protect” us.

Soaking up the sun in Big Sur after the clouds burned off

Goofing off along Highway 1

Then, a new shelter in place order was issued, which scared us back into hunkering down again. But after a weekend or two in the Bay Area I was itching to get out. When a coworker passed along intel about a remote spot to dispersed camp in Tahoe National Forest, I took it as a sign that we just had to go. We went full-on glamping: we brought our new 3-person tent which felt like a palace and we had a three course meal: bruschetta for hors d’oeuvres, stuffing with turkey and cranberries as our main dish, and s’mores for dessert. Don’t worry though, we’re still grungy at heart: we sat in the dirt and picked pine needles out of our food. It was a pretty low-key weekend so we had plenty of time to relax at camp and decided to work on Denali’s recall training. Huskies are notoriously challenging to train to be off-leash so we’ve been taking baby steps. But after a couple hours it seemed like she wasn’t going to stray from our camp, so we tied her long leash to a heavy branch and called it good. You can imagine my surprise then, during a bathroom break, when she came bolting towards me. Apparently she got nervous when I walked away and couldn’t see me. The “heavy” branch that was supposed to slow her down snagged on a tree and broke off instantly. The whole thing was really sweet but also pretty scary, and we’ve since been more careful with her.

Tahoe National Forest

Denali is sitting in a hole she dug out for herself!

Our watchdog approves of our new tent

Feeling inspired by our first Tahoe National Forest trip, we went again the next weekend to a different spot. We picked a lake on the map and steered our trusty Toyota Yaris north. We’ve had pretty good luck taking her on dirt roads of all kinds, but this time she put her foot down. The road to Bowman Lake was described online as “very rough, rocky and narrow. A high clearance vehicle is needed.” So it wasn’t a huge surprise that we couldn’t make it all the way there. Instead, we found another neat spot tucked off a dirt road that even had a few melting snow patches nearby for Denali to take a snow bath in. Like last weekend, we had lots of time to chill. I had a minor emotional breakdown (the stress of shelter in place finally caught up to me, I guess), we all took dirt naps, and we again had a three-course meal. This time: sundried tomato goat cheese and crackers, a dish aptly called “skillet potato mess,” and s’mores. The next morning we explored some nearby lakes and rivers swollen from the spring snowmelt. 

Fuller Lake

Our trusty Yaris

South Yuba River

Undoubtedly, some people reading this will totally disagree with our choices to camp. But we’ve gone to some extremes to avoid interacting with anyone during our trips...even stopping for “bathroom breaks” on the side of the road during the drives there and back. I know we’re not being perfect, but it’s what’s been keeping us sane these past two months. What else has been keeping me sane? Running through the fields of our neighborhood park with Denali at night when the sprinklers are on, watching her stalk squirrels, going for walks when Owen gets home from work, having impromptu dance parties, just normal, silly stuff. I haven’t taken up any new hobbies (unless dragging myself out of bed daily at 6am to run with Denali counts), I’m not doing any house projects (besides coercing Owen to put his stuff away), and I haven’t perfected a recipe for chocolate chip cookies yet (first attempt was a failure), but I am feeling pretty appreciative of the extra time I get to spend with my little family. 

Peering out at her kingdom (btw Owen made the artwork on the wall!)

In case you are wondering, we are grateful to be staying busy 9-5, Monday-Friday: I’ve been working from home, Owen's National Guard unit got activated and he’s been doing logistics for them, and Denali is enjoying her approximately four naps and six walks each day. It's been a little shaky at times, but we are getting through it. I’ll sign off with this: I was on a video call with my parents and sister a few weeks ago, and apologized that I had to hop off early because Denali was literally clawing at the door, desperate to get out for a walk. We all looked at each other and laughed… it’s exactly how we feel too sometimes. Stay safe and stay sane out there, friends!

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Owen and I have been learning a lot, living with a husky these past few months. Denali loves chasing squirrels, taking naps, playing with squeaky toys, and boy does she have a fluffy coat. This dog was built for the snow! So we had no choice but to take her to the mountains in search of snow as much as we could this winter. There's been even more to learn...

This was totally not staged  

Lesson #1: Denali doesn't mind when it's 20 degrees and snowing with 50 mph winds, but Owen and I do! On this particular outing to a National Forest south of Lake Tahoe, I wouldn't have been warm enough if I wore every piece of clothing I owned (though that's not saying much because I have a pretty small wardrobe... I digress). Also: if it's going to be icy, we need booties for her. She left a small trail of blood in the snow from a cut paw :( 

Totally oblivious to the freezing temps, playing with a sprig of pine

A successful first snow day!

Lesson #2: Denali can't tell it's a powder day when she wakes up, but Owen and I sure can! Hint: if you hear a loud "whoop" early in the morning, look outside your window. There may be a foot of powder blanketing South Lake Tahoe just waiting to be played in! Before we adopted Denali, Owen literally had reoccurring dreams about our future dog waking us up in the morning to play in the snow, so we were pretty stoked when this (almost) actually happened. Also: Denali can go snowboarding. By snowboarding, I mean running alongside us in the snow while we snowboard, but still. This was pretty revolutionary. 

Still teaching Denali the art of the family selfie 

Our sled dog in action!

Lesson #3: Well, we don't always have to bring Denali to have fun. Just the two of us went snowboarding a couple times this winter. We had a range of conditions from east coast ice to two feet of powder. I even survived a short black diamond run. And you know those little kids that you see zooming down the mountain? Some of them are so small they can't even get on the lift by themselves! I know this because I was directed by a kid's ski instructor to pull her onto the lift by a strap on the back of her jacket! I now have even more respect for these crazy, tiny athletes. 

The ultimate powder day

We balanced out all the snow with a motorcycle trip to the desert back in February. There was the slight complication of what to do with Denali, since she can't exactly fit on the back of Owen's motorcycle. Fortunately we found a great sitter who was willing to make sure she didn't get into too much husky trouble over the weekend. The objective for this year's trip: finally conquer Titus Canyon, the infamous back-country road that we have been itching to ride for years. It was worth the wait, though: we rode through canyons painted every shade of red, brown, and purple, we saw bighorn sheep grazing, and we marveled as the canyon squeezed down to less than 20 feet wide in some places. We finally got to witness why it earned its nickname of "Tight-Ass Canyon."

In the depths of Titus Canyon

For all the times we've visited the park we hadn't done much canyon hiking, so we spent the next couple days doing just that. What I didn't expect was how damn hot these canyons can get, even in February! Still, we had a grand time exploring side canyons, hauling ourselves up vertical ledges, and watching a family with four youngsters climb up a ledge that I could barely pull myself over.

Hiking during the hottest part of the day- oops

Zipping past salt flats

Now, as you might have heard we are essentially stuck in the house for 3 weeks with a husky that literally bounces off the walls if she doesn't get enough exercise. Plus, she's blowing her coat right now (mom, stop reading here). As a new dog owner, I was surprised at just how persistent those hairs are, and they're everywhere: on my clothes, in my hair, on my face, no matter how much we vacuum...how?! So, our mission these next few weeks is to survive, unscathed. We're armed with a bunch of books, some booze, and not much else...wish us luck.