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.

Denali: the Wolf Dog

Something I've learned over the years is to not set expectations about how things will go- how a trip will pan out, how a work meeting will run, what a new place will be like. My experiences are always better when I'm open and receptive to any possibility. This fall, I had to relearn my own lesson. I had three weeks off in between jobs, and made the mistake of setting expectations for it: I envisioned leisurely days filled with yoga, massages, napping, and cooking. Instead, I found myself quarantined in my own apartment subsisting off emergency canned goods. No, I wasn’t on house arrest. We adopted a dog!

Even though we had been looking at dogs for several weeks and talking about it for years, it seemed to all happen so fast. We saw a picture of an adorable little wolf dog online and went to the animal shelter the next day to meet her. She was a rambunctious, nine-month old siberian husky. When she laid down and let us pet her and give her belly rubs, we were sold. She was scheduled to get spayed the next day so we had one night to get supplies and dog proof our entire apartment. We raced around to multiple pet stores and eventually procured the essentials. We also decided on a new name for her: Denali. 

Meeting Denali for the first time at the animal shelter

The first few days the learning curve was steep. Denali wasn’t supposed to do any intense exercising because of the surgery, but she had so much energy. She smacked her plastic cone of shame into steps, fences, the ground, until it eventually cracked in two places. Plus, Owen was at a motorcycle competition those first two days so I was on my own. I wasn’t sure what she’d do in the apartment if I left her alone, so I didn’t leave. We were running very low on groceries and it was a rough couple days.

Resting up after surgery

The next few weeks, things improved drastically but she still wasn’t supposed to do any intense exercising. Instead, we took her on walks, so many walks. One day we racked up nine miles. Owen and I literally injured ourselves trying to walk with her enough to burn off her energy. He got shin splints and I started getting plantar fasciitis and had nerve issues in my arm. Now, we’ve had her for about two months and are loving our new adventure buddy. We've taken her hiking, trail running, camping, and she even flew to NJ with us for the holidays. Adopting her was the biggest risk we’ve taken in a long time, but I am so glad we went for it. 

Exploring the water during a camping trip

Checking out Owen's National Guard Armory

Shaking out our legs during a road trip

So back to that break of mine- luckily I was able to fit in a few trips before we adopted Denali. My first trip, a solo excursion to Yosemite, didn’t go quite according to plan. I had a great hike to North Dome, but when I drove into Yosemite Valley to camp, I encountered a hiccup. The campgrounds were closed due to high winds. I was too tired to drive home and didn’t want to camp outside the park, but luckily there was a third option. According to a piece of paper tacked to the campground office, for one night only the park was letting stranded campers sleep in their cars in various spots around the valley. Now, that might not seem too appealing to most people, but I noticed one designated area was along the road below El Capitan, which sounded like it might be cool. Turns out it was way better than staying in a campground. As I cooked my dinner in a meadow below El Cap, the stars came out and the headlamps of climbers on the rock face turned on one by one, until there were maybe 20 lights scattered across the rock. Even as the temperature plummeted, I sat there for hours, mesmerized by it all.

Approaching North Dome

Fall in Yosemite Valley

I’m ashamed to admit that for all the camping and backpacking I’ve done, I had never actually built a fire myself. I blame Owen, the fire master, who always takes the lead. That changed during another short solo trip I did in Big Sur. Armed with a bundle of wood, some kindling, and a lighter, I was determined to build my own fire once and for all. The first few minutes were shaky: my kindling would not stay lit and I started giving up hope. But then I unleashed my secret weapon: hand sanitizer. I doused it over the kindling and my luck turned. When I finally got the fire roaring, I felt like a cavewoman. Big Sur has been a testing ground of sorts for me for other things too. Earlier this fall I went on a solo backpacking trip, my second time ever to do so. There were steep hill climbs, unrelenting heat, and mosquitos but also the most amazing ocean views.

Limekiln State Park: Testing grounds for my fire making skills

Timber Top Camp

Enjoying my solo adventure

Now, it's officially winter in CA, but winter for Owen and I really started back in late September, when we got caught in our first snowstorm of the season while backpacking in the Ansel Adams Wilderness. You know the trip is off to a good start when there are 50 mph winds on the first night. We lost the trail, then we lost each other for a bit. It was one of those trips where it's so cold, you go to bed at 5pm. We knew there were hot springs a short drive from the trailhead, so the second day we decided to end our trip early and head to the hot springs. No regrets there!

Thousand Island Lake

A fresh dusting of snow in the eastern Sierra

Sweet relief at the hot springs

We're settling back into CA after two weeks in NJ for Christmas. Denali was in heaven getting lots of attention from our families and playing with all our little nieces and nephews, including three-year-old Antonio who decided "she's a wolf, not a dog." I can't wait to see what adventures are in store for us in 2020!

First hike of the new year 

Denali: The High One

I knew our honeymoon was going to be rugged (c’mon, it’s me and Owen), though I did not expect to find myself wielding two cans of bear spray, my head on a swivel, waiting to fight off a charging grizzly. But let me start from the beginning. 

Planning a trip to Denali National Park is a little intimidating. There are essentially no trails in the backcountry, you can’t drive your own car on the park roads, and there’s nowhere to buy food once you’re in the park. Needless to say, we procrastinated until the last minute to plan our honeymoon. The weeks leading up to our departure date were a whirlwind: we booked flights, trains, campgrounds, hotels; purchased essential gear (gaiters for me, stream crossing sandals for Owen); and carefully stocked up on provisions to last us for two weeks. We hit a small snag when Owen’s backpack was initially 60 pounds and mine was about 20 liters too small. After ditching anything that wasn’t absolutely essential, we were left with two enormous but acceptable bags.   

As with any great adventure, ours did not start according to plan. We missed our connecting flight and our bags nearly did not make it to Anchorage. But thanks to some quick thinking flight attendants we arrived, bags in hand, just a few hours later than scheduled. With the first snag out of the way, we were eager for the next leg of our journey: the Denali Star Train. The ride was gorgeous: we passed through areas so remote that homesteaders flag down the train to travel into town for supplies. We even saw some views of the peak of Denali. After eight hours on the train, we finally made it to the park I'd been dreaming about for years.  

The Denali Star Train

Viewing car

We camped near the park entrance for the next two nights, and our main objective was preparing for our backcountry trip. The most important part: securing a backcountry permit. Without any trails in the backcountry, the park is divided up into 87 units, most of which have a quota. I’d done a lot of research beforehand: some units require expert glacier travel skills, others are only accessible by bush plane, and still others “present the opportunity for trips that will test the abilities of even the most skilled backcountry traveler.” We were left with essentially a handful of units that would not kill us. Luckily, a few of those units had availability, and after filling out several forms, watching a series of videos, and essentially signing our lives away, we were given the coveted permit. With permit in hand, we attended to the next most important task: visiting the Denali sled dog kennels! The dogs don't just look cute, they also work hard. In the summer they train up, and in the winter they travel the park, blazing trails for winter visitors, checking on research equipment, and transporting supplies.

In awe meeting a canine ranger

Planning out meals for the next two weeks

The next morning, we boarded the first camper bus into the park, welcomed by our no-nonsense driver, Tom: “I’ll drive the bus, you look for wildlife.” I spotted the first “bear” of the bus ride, which turned out to be a moose! Over the next few hours, we traveled deeper into the park, and as the road turned from pavement to dirt, we saw even more wildlife: elk, grizzly bears, and even Dall sheep (found only in Alaska and western Canada). Finally, it was time to disembark. The starting point of our five-day backpacking trip was Eielson Visitor Center, which also gave us one last chance to take advantage of indoor plumbing. We spent a little longer than needed packing and repacking the contents of our bags until finally we could delay no longer and set off.  

Day one of our backpacking trip, still clean and dry

The next five days were some of the wildest I’ve ever experienced. The challenges were abundant: river crossings, wet feet, steady rain, bushwhacking, routefinding, avoiding animals, scree fields. The rewards made it all worth it, though: views of Denali poking through the clouds, camping above the Muldrow Glacier, following a river drainage to its headwaters, walking barefoot on the tundra. Easily my favorite part was the wildlife. We saw bears, caribou, a red fox, a Dall sheep skull. At one point we were watching eight grizzly bears, half of which were cubs, lounge, play, and eat off in the distance. It was like something straight out of National Geographic.

Hiking above the Muldrow Glacier

A typical misty Alaskan day

One morning, we had just started packing up our tent when a backpacker traversing the gravel bar below us yelled up, there’s a bear approaching you! I yelled back, from which way? But his answer was incomprehensible, lost to the wind. We quickly devised a plan: Owen would pack everything up while I would stand guard, looking for the incoming bear. Armed with both cans of bear spray, I watched for the bear as if my life depended on it. Finally I spotted him, he got a bit closer, we yelled, looked big, waved trekking poles, and he backed away. We were totally fine. And that was our experience with all of the grizzlies that we observed: they were more interested in eating berries and digging up ground squirrels than investigating us, and we were able to peacefully share the land.

Patiently waiting to see where a grizzly bear was headed

There are a lot of rules for backpackers: camp at least a mile from the park road, don't hike in a line, cook 100 yards from camp... We tried our best to follow everything, but when we finished our backpacking trip at the Eielson Visitor Center with a park ranger waiting for us, I assumed we were about to get chastised for doing something wrong. And then I saw the “Trails closed” sign. Turns out that recently a hiker had violated the park's most basic rule: don't give your food to wildlife. Apparently a bear had approached and he dropped his pack, allowing the cub to feast on all his snacks. The scary part is that now, the cub will associate humans with food for the rest of his life and may try to approach more people for some easy grub. As a result, the park closed all the trails and backcountry units nearby, including our units, though we had no idea since they had no way to contact us.

Trails closed: news to us!

With a sigh of relief that we weren’t going to be arrested, we grabbed our cached food and caught the next bus heading deeper into the park, to Wonder Lake Campground. Most of the passengers were cruise-shippers that had been on the bus for hours and were drifting off to sleep. We stood out with our big packs, hiking boots, and dirty clothes, and the ones that were still awake were intrigued with us. Owen attracted quite the crowd as he fielded questions about where we slept, what we ate, what animals we saw. It was a worthwhile conversation, as we learned there was a good chance of seeing the northern lights the next few nights!

Wildlife viewing from the bus

Our campsite at Wonder Lake Campground was the one thing we booked months in advance, and I had been eagerly anticipating our stay there. For one, it’s deep in the park, a six hour bus ride from the entrance. It’s also only 26 miles from Denali, and supposedly offers spectacular views of the mountain on clear days. Our three days at the campground certainly lived up to my expectations. The tundra was alive with fall colors: fiery reds, oranges, and purples. The weather was incredible and we saw the mountain every single day. We even saw the northern lights one night! What I wasn’t expecting, but enjoyed the most, were the characters of Wonder Lake- the friends we met during our stay. One lady had been coming to the park so often that she could “write a book about the showers and bathrooms of Denali." Another older couple shared stories from a lifetime of traveling, and reflected on how their experience in the outdoors is changing now that they’re older. A group of friends who meet up every Memorial Day weekend at Wonder Lake, told us of backcountry skiing in the Alaska Range just a few miles below the summit of Denali.

Our campsite at Wonder Lake

Wandering off trail in the shadow of Denali

Have you ever wanted to shower so badly that you would pay $1,000 to do so? After nine days of backpacking, camping, and wearing the same pair of pants, that’s the position we found ourselves in. Luckily, we had hotel reservations for a backcountry lodge just a couple miles down the road from Wonder Lake Campground. So we said goodbye to our friends, promised we’d let them use our shower if they made the trip out to our hotel, and hit the road to catch our ride. We were the youngest people at the lodge by about thirty years, and we were not their typical guests. We stuffed our faces at every meal, did not go on a single guided hike or tour, and drank with the employees. We bummed a razor and deodorant off the front desk, begged for the manager to let us do laundry, and commandeered the outdoor fireplace as our own. I never thought I’d spend $1,000 a night on a hotel, and I probably never will again, but it was absolutely perfect and worth every penny. 

We pulled ourselves off the couch once to go mountain biking

Our post for our stay at the lodge

Many of you know that my family affectionately refers to Owen as “superman” for his uncanny ability to fix things and make things better. He’s brought back cars from the dead, fixed frozen pipes, and deep cleaned toxic college apartments. So you can imagine I wasn’t surprised when our bus heading to another campground after our stay from the lodge broke down, four hours from the nearest help, and Owen whispered “I think I know what’s wrong.” With my coaxing, he approached our bus driver and offered up some help. All I could do was watch from my seat, watch his freshly washed clothes get dirtier and dirtier as he pulled, shoved, and pounded something heavy. Not even twenty minutes later, our bus driver successfully turned the bus back on, and Owen got a standing ovation. 

Sow and two grizzly cubs

After nearly two weeks in the park, we had seen it by bus, foot, and bike, and there was only one mode left: plane. We had no shame being the ultimate tourists on our flightseeing tour of the park. I was crammed in the very back of our little Turbo Beaver, right next to the emergency supplies and blankets. The upside was that I had both windows to myself, and I constantly looked left and right, mesmerized by the world of snow, ice, and rock that we were in. Eventually we landed at Denali base camp, where most mountaineers start their expeditions to the summit in early summer every year. We were there for less than half an hour, and I somehow managed to fill my boots with snow and numb my hands. I don’t know how people survive the climb. 

My perch in the back of the plane

The Alaska Range, in all its glory

Denali Upper Base Camp

There is nothing more depressing than flying home after an incredible two weeks spent in the wilderness. $2,000 and two free first class tickets does soften the blow, though. Yes, you read that right. Our flight home was overbooked, and they were offering $1,000 each and a first class ticket if you got on a later flight. Owen and I practically shoved each other out of the way running up to the counter to volunteer. Gorging on free food and drinks in plush seats that we didn’t pay for was the perfect way to end our honeymoon.

Despite our lavish arrival home, the post-vacation blues hit me really hard when I went back to work, so much so that I took stock of my life and realized I needed to make a change. So, as of today, I am no longer working for San Mateo County. I start my new gig in (surprise) another local government agency: Santa Clara County, on November 18. Look for more stories on my adventures during my time off in a couple weeks!

Nine Years in the Making

Nearly nine years ago, Owen and I headed off to separate colleges after a couple weeks of dating. We didn't know if our relationship would last until Thanksgiving break. We definitely didn't anticipate the years of adventures that lay ahead for us: studying abroad, joining the National Guard, living in the deep South, moving to the West Coast, adventuring on a motorcycle. We have come a long way from the two high-schoolers we once were, and I'm so proud to say that we're now husband and wife!

Photo credits: Daryl Gillum

Almost a month later, I still can’t believe that we pulled off such an incredible wedding. As two people who are both laid back, don’t ever plan parties, have no eye for decorations, and tend to procrastinate, we are truly the opposite of wedding planners. But somehow, it all came together and the whole weekend felt like a celebration of our favorite things: motorcycle rides, redwood trees, fire pits, wild dance parties, hiking, delicious food, and fancy drinks. 

Photo credits: Daryl Gillum

The weekend of the wedding, I thought I was well prepared, armed with our detailed schedule that mapped out every single thing happening. But nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming generosity of our family and friends. They bought last-minute supplies, assembled bouquets, loaded cars, brought us pizzas, made amazing toasts, shuttled people around, fixed my makeup, set up centerpieces, made us s'mores, bustled my dress, retrieved my vows, hosted an after party, and that's just scratching the surface. I like to think of Owen and I as pretty low maintenance people, but there is no way we could have gotten through the day without the help and support of all our guests. 

We couldn't have done it without them! Photo credits: Daryl Gillum

There were so many memorable moments that I’ll cherish forever: looking into Owen's eyes during the ceremony and feeling like we were the only two people in the world, listening to Kelli totally rock her maid of honor toast, watching the sun set over the Bay as our guests danced into the night... It was an incredible day, and a lot to take in. After the wedding weekend, we escaped to a treehouse in Santa Cruz for a night to unwind, just the two of us: our first trip as a married couple!

Our humble abode

Skylights above the bed

Reality check, though: planning a wedding is freaking stressful. So in the weeks leading up to it, we sprinkled in a few trips in the mountains so we could clear our minds and for a few days pretend like our world did not revolve around place cards or centerpieces or wedding cake toppers. 

Running a 16 mile race in the snow with 5,000 feet of elevation gain was a good way to do that. Back in June, Madeline and Evan flew down from Seattle and we all headed up to Squaw Valley in Lake Tahoe so Madeline and I could run the Broken Arrow Skyrace. Before the race, we had gotten multiple email warnings from the race directors that there would be some snow on the course, but they weren’t exactly sure how much would remain on race day. A lot remained on race day, that’s how much. I realized this race wasn’t like anything else I’d run before when I looked to my right and saw skiers and snowboarders queuing up for a ski lift. Yes, you heard that right: the ski resort was still open at the end of June and we were running past skiers and snowboarders. Two of those skiers/snowboarders were Owen and Evan! The race had it all: stream crossings, ropes to pull ourselves up steep, snow-covered slopes, glissading, and even a ladder, dubbed “Stairway to Heaven” on the rockiest, steepest part of the course. When I wasn’t cursing myself for signing up for something this difficult, I was pretty much in heaven. Plus, we got to spend the weekend with our best friends. Wedding stress couldn’t hold a candle to it. 

"Stairway to Heaven" ladder

Trying not to fall into the lake after the race

You would think that a backpacking trip marked as appropriate for kids ages eight and older would be a walk in the park for Owen and I, right? Well, you would be wrong. Let me explain. There was an article in Backpacker Magazine about teaching kids to backpack, and one of the trip ideas for "big kids" was a loop in the Trinity Alps Wilderness in northern CA. It seemed like the perfect mellow trip for a long weekend. Day one, we got a late start as it was July 4th, and we had made an impromptu stop to watch a Fourth of July parade at a small town on our way to the trail head. We weren’t worried though, as we had half the day to cover five miles to the first good campsite. The hiking got hard immediately, and did not let up. What we didn’t realize, because our map didn’t have elevation, was that the trail gained 4,000 feet in those first five miles. I should also probably mention that, somehow, we hadn’t gone backpacking in about eight months so we were wildly out of shape. At one point, hours into our hike, we were scaling a very steep slope, grabbing onto trees to pull ourselves up the loose dirt, and I kept thinking “This can’t be the trail.” Turns out it wasn’t the trail. The actual trail was still covered under several feet of snow. By the time we finally rolled into camp, right before dark, I didn’t care if we were sleeping on a boulder field, I just wanted to get horizontal. 

The next morning we regrouped. After talking with other hikers we learned that much of the rest of the hike was covered in snow so we reset our expectations. We would ditch our heavy packs at our basecamps and go for a day hike, with the hopes of making it to at least one of the four lakes on the loop. Hiking uphill in the snow wasn’t bad. Hiking downhill, though? That required too much effort. Instead, we glissaded down all the big slopes. If you’re not familiar, glissading is basically sledding without a sled. You’re supposed to use an ice axe to stop yourself, but we didn’t have ice axes so we used our trekking poles. It was scary, but also fun as hell, and we even got a round of applause from another group of hikers across the lake. We may not have conquered the loop made for eight-year olds, but at least we got to play like we were eight years old again.

After our wedding, Kelli and Cam stuck around and borrowed our car to take a road trip through the Sierra. Our car that had "Just Married" written all over it. Honestly, there's no better way to embarrass your sister than making her drive that around with her boyfriend. I was actually really grateful they could spend more time out here, though. That next weekend, the four of us drove out to Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. After battling it out with Bay Area traffic, we didn’t arrive in the national forest outside the park until the moon had already risen, so we carefully navigated a dirt road and found a decent camping spot. Owen and I got to work setting up our tent, while Kelli and Cam reclined the front seats of our car and cracked the windows. When they say “car camping” they literally mean sleeping in a car.

The last time we were here it was so busy that there was no place to pull over to actually see the giant sequoia trees. I was not going to make that same mistake again. Which meant we woke up at 5:45am Saturday morning, threw everything in the car, and quickly got on the road. Our Toyota Yaris, now dubbed the “jellybean” is not an expansive vehicle by any means. It’s the perfect size for a two-person road trip, but when packed with four adults and their stuff (Kelli brought a suitcase for god’s sake!) it was reaching its capacity and things started to go missing. At one point, I don’t think any of us knew exactly where our wallets were. Anyway, we didn’t need wallets to see sequoia trees, so we hightailed it to the Giant Forest, then basked in the early morning glory of having the grove almost entirely to ourselves.  

Photo credits: Cam McCall (this was a vertical panorama!)

That afternoon we hiked the Lakes Trail and had two options: book it out to the farthest lake, six miles away, or arrive at the first lake, swim, nap, and lounge for a few hours. We opted for the latter with no regrets. We even got to do a bit of scrambling to get to the top of the Watchtower, a massive granite rock formation. That night before we went to bed, we established ground rules for proper bear etiquette: one honk of the car horn meant Kelli and Cam were simply trying to drive the bear away. Two honks meant they were actually driving away, and Owen and I would be left to fend for ourselves. Luckily, we never had to test out the system.

We leave for Denali National Park, for our honeymoon, tomorrow! The past two weeks have been a whirlwind, not just because we had to plan the entire trip, but also because we've been tracking conditions in the park and they weren't looking great: heavy rains, mudslides, and wildfires. As of now, everything is open but fingers crossed that it stays that way. Our trip hasn't even started yet and it already feels like an adventure!