Alaska or Bust: Part 1

Journal entry, August 10, 2022: “Where do I even begin? I’m currently lounging in the tundra staring at a wall of mountains dusted with snow. They drop steeply to the Long Glacier below. To my left is the enormous, glaciated Mount Wrangell, its top hidden in clouds. It looks like it’s so close I could reach out and touch it. Owen is playing cards and Denali is napping in the sunlight. 24 hours ago, I thought we might die here.”

Wrangell Plateau

We were on the Wrangell Plateau in Wrangell- St. Elias National Park, 20 miles as the crow flies from the nearest road, from any semblance of civilization. To explain how we got there in the first place, I need to start at the beginning, one month prior and 4,000 miles south.

Chapter 1: California, Oregon, and Washington 

July 10 - July 16, 2022

The morning of July 10, our departure day for our two-month long road trip to Alaska, we were still packing up our 1987 Toyota 4Runner, carefully selecting any last essentials we’d likely need. We packed our tent, sleeping bags, backpacks, warm weather gear, rain gear, and basic cooking supplies. Two changes of clothes made the cut, as did my camera, a few books and some toiletries. Everything got neatly organized in the custom drawers that Owen made for the back of the 4Runner. Between those, our Bodega refrigerator, and Denali’s gigantic dog bed, there wasn’t space for much else. 

Our cooking supplies in the drawers Owen made

Perched on her gigantic bed

This was a trip we’d been planning for months, a trip only possible because we’d begged our bosses for the time off and both taken pay cuts. But as we neared departure my overwhelming emotion was one of uneasiness and anxiety. There was just so much that could potentially go wrong... getting COVID, a car accident, a sprained ankle, a bear attack, the list was endless. Luckily, I’ve always found something energizing about being on the road, and it was no different that day. Once we rolled out, the noise in my head quieted and I felt a sense of freedom wash over me.

We fell into an easy rhythm the first couple days as we drove through northern California, Oregon, and Washington. What I loved most was that our days were so simple: drive, set up camp, cook dinner, clean up, walk Denali. No Zoom meetings, no endless emails, no house chores. We sat around after dinner drinking cold beers, just happy to be outside. Camping felt like such a simple joy. 

Shasta-Trinity National Forest, northern CA

A relaxed morning in North Cascades, WA

Our first major stop was in the Cascade Mountains in Washington. By night, we camped in moss draped forests, and by day we drove alongside clear, raging rivers, and powerful waterfalls. One night, we were jolted out of slumber by a freight train horn blasting just 50 feet from our tent (that’s what we got for choosing a site near the train tracks!). We feasted on bratwursts, pretzels, and beer in Leavenworth, a Bavarian themed town in the middle of nowhere. We hiked almost to Heather Pass, high above Lake Ann, turned around due to lingering snow, and glissaded part of the way back down.

Checking on the truck on the crazy mountain roads

Okanogan-Wenatchee National Forest

A couple days into the Cascades, we dealt with the first challenges of the trip. One afternoon, the hub of our tent pole snapped as we were setting it up, which rendered the tent unusable. Seeing as we were living in it for the foreseeable future, this was a major issue. After freaking out, then weighing several different options, ranging from buying a new tent ($$$$) to finding a mechanic’s shop and using their tools to repair the pole ($), we finally came up with a solution. We ordered a replacement hub which would be shipped to an REI store in Alaska that we could pick up in a couple weeks. In the meantime, Owen bought a nut, a washer, and a screw which held the pole secure. With that crisis behind us, we decided to find a cheap hotel in Bellingham so we could get clean and relax. After reading online reviews, I determined that the affordable hotels were $150 - $200, and had bedbugs, homeless encampments nearby, stained linens, and reviews with titles such as “DO NOT STAY HERE” and “Worst place I’ve ever slept.” Finally, we decided to splurge and spent $300 on a bed-bug free room. Instead of bed-bugs, we got a gorgeous soaking tub, four free drinks at the bar, and made to order breakfast. It was easily the fanciest hotel we stayed in the entire trip, and I have zero regrets.

Cooling off in Ross Lake National Rec Area

Cleaning up after dinner in our fern-filled campsite

Chapter 2: Canada 

July 17 - July 26, 2022

We crossed into Canada at a small border crossing north of Lyden, WA. We had all our paperwork prepared - truck registration, insurance, Denali’s rabies vaccination - and didn’t need to show any of it. The border patrol agent was more interested in how we were able to take so much time off this summer. 

We drove north on highway 99 towards Whistler, which followed Howe Sound and wound through granite mountains and misty forests dotted with waterfalls. It wasn’t until we checked into our Airbnb in Whistler and I perused a guidebook that I realized we had been driving on the Sea to Sky Highway, a famous route known for its spectacular scenery. Our time in Whistler was a whirlwind. We explored Whistler Village, marveled at the mud-splattered downhill mountain bikers, and I even found a lake on a trail run with Denali, aptly named Lost Lake. 

Going on a stroll through Whistler Village

After Whistler, we continued north along the Sea to Sky Highway to the West Access Route and then onto the Cassiar Highway. The landscapes were stunning, with gigantic snow covered mountains, thick forests, sparkling lakes, and wildlife sightings. I was almost grateful for the sections through flatter agricultural and timber land, as it helped recalibrate my capability to be awed. It was on these roads that I opened up our Milepost guide for the first time. The Milepost has mile-by-mile information on all the roads in western Canada and Alaska, and it became our bible for the next several weeks. It was how we found campgrounds, grocery stores, elusive free WiFi, scenic lunch spots, even short hikes.

Along the Sea to Sky Highway

At this point in the trip, we usually stayed in Provincial campgrounds, and we were in such remote areas that we never had trouble finding available sites. For $20 Canadian ($15 US), we got a flat site, pit toilets, and the peace of mind of not being completely alone, in case a bear decided to stumble into camp at night. While bears were a threat in the back of our minds, a more regular nuisance was the humble but ever present mosquito. To keep them at bay, we donned rain gear, used a Thermacell, built smoky fires, doused ourselves with DEET, but ultimately ended up hiding from them in the truck or in the tent on many a night. No lazy nights lounging in our chairs drinking beers anymore. 

Relaxing on her perch

Luckily there were plenty of sights to lift our spirits. The drive to Salmon Glacier in British Columbia was one such gem. It was listed in the Milepost as an unassuming side trip along the Cassiar Highway that we decided to take. Along the way, the towering mountains were covered in snow, glaciers, and waterfalls. We saw a mama bear and her cub in front of Bear Glacier. The road passed through Alaska briefly, in Hyder, known as Alaska’s friendliest ghost town. The main activity in town was to get “hyderized” at the local saloon by downing a shot of Everclear. We came through at 11am, right as the bar was opening, and Owen couldn’t resist. The bartender spelled out the rules: no sniffing, no sipping, and it must be downed in one swig. He complied and received an official certification card. Back on the road, we noticed the Sprinter van in front of us had a flat tire, and Owen was feeling a little friendlier than normal, perhaps due to the Everclear. We waved the driver down and Owen quickly helped him patch it up. The driver insisted on giving Owen $20 as a thank you! Eventually we arrived at the viewing area for the Salmon Glacier. I ran around feverishly taking pictures from every angle. On the drive back to the Cassiar Highway, we could barely take in any more scenery. At the first stop we came to with free Wi-Fi, I took out my phone and scrolled through Facebook for something ugly to look at, to try to recalibrate.

Along the way to Stewart, BC

Hyder, AK

Salmon Glacier

A couple days after the Salmon Glacier we were ready to try our hand at finding a hotel in remote Canada. Out of a whopping two hotels in Dease Lake, British Columbia, which is more than I expected for a town of 450, one luckily had a room available for the night. We commenced our typical hotel routine: 

• Step 1: Look pitiful and beg to check in early to maximize time indoors.

• Step 2: Do chores- take showers, do laundry, wash dishes, dry gear, comb Denali.

• Step 3: As a reward for chores being complete, lay in bed and watch TV until brain is mush.

• Step 4: Leave the room only to find dinner. On this night we ate from the one restaurant in town that wasn’t the gas station, called The Shack and prayed that we didn’t get food poisoning.

• Step 5: Get dirty immediately after checking out while accidentally brushing up against the muddy, dusty truck. Count down the days until we can stay in a hotel again.

Luckily we didn’t have to wait long to stay in a hotel again. From Dease Lake, we took the Alaska Highway to the Klondike Highway and arrived in Dawson City on our wedding anniversary. To celebrate, we splurged and found a hotel room. We strayed from our typical hotel routine of maximizing time indoors and instead spent the day exploring Dawson City. It was an… interesting town. It’s a well-preserved gold rush town and thrives on tourism, but there are also active gold mines in the area and the colorful characters that accompany that industry. And in some ways, it was no different than any other small town, where everyone knows your business. Exhibit A: Owen stopped in the hardware store and overheard people talking about the old 4Runner from Cali, aka our truck! After a couple hours of exploring antique shops and old buildings in town, we were tired of the tourist scene. We hopped in the truck and explored the dirt roads on the outskirts of town. We’d repeat this routine in many towns throughout our trip. I enjoyed it because it gave me a chance to check out the neat little cabins and camps tucked in the woods. Owen had another motive, though- he was looking for old 4Runners and the potential to find rare parts, like inclinometers, that could be found nowhere else. 

Dawson City, Yukon Territory

10:02pm: still light out

Waiting for the ferry to cross the Yukon River

Just north of Dawson City, we encountered the real reason we had chosen this particular route into Alaska: the Top of the World Highway. With a name like that, how could we resist?  It was 80 miles of mostly dirt road, unimpeded views of the mountains, and zero visitor services. 

Chapter 3: Alaska (the beginning)

July 27 - August 7, 2022

We crossed into Alaska on the Top of the World Highway at a tiny border crossing, where the border patrol agent was more interested in checking out our old 4Runner than looking at our paperwork. Why did no one want to see our paperwork?! We headed towards Anchorage via the Taylor Highway, Tok Cutoff route, and Glenn Highway. The scenery was incredible: endless views of the snow-covered Alaska Range, the Wrangell Mountains, and the Matanuska Glacier. By the time we arrived in Girdwood, along the beautiful Turnagain Arm, south of Anchorage, I could barely take in any more epic views. 

Border crossing along Top of the World Highway

Stopped in a town named Chicken, AK

Sheep Mountain, AK

It turned out that the antidote to my funk was going on a hike in Girdwood… to see more beautiful views. But it was totally different being on foot. What we originally intended to be a quick late afternoon jaunt turned into a five hour epic hike to Crow Pass. Along the way, we met a tourist hiking with a gun, who I thought was a hunter, but was just doing it for the photos. Then we met a mountain biker with a husky, who I thought was a wolf, hunting for small critters. We hiked past mine ruins, scree fields, the snow-covered Chugach Mountains, alpine lakes, the Raven Glacier. The highlight was watching a group of five mountain goats running, playing, and eating, not far from us. It was still light out by the time we made it back to the truck at 9:30pm but we were exhausted and starving, and I was ready to drive straight to a restaurant and devour an entire pizza. The universe must’ve heard me because five minutes later a group of backpackers walked up to us with a pizza box and asked if we wanted their leftovers. Hell, yes!

Chugach National Forest

After Girdwood we headed to Seward, on the Kenai Peninsula, with no real concrete plans for what to see. We stopped at a campground along Resurrection Bay near downtown to eat lunch, and decided to camp there for the night. As we set up our tent we got chatting with a guy named Wes who works for the City of Seward. We made plans to meet up with him and his girlfriend for dinner that night. But first, we stopped at a fish weir on a nearby creek. We really wanted Denali to eat fresh salmon in Alaska, and as Owen and I aren’t big into fishing, she’d have to catch one herself. Wes assured us that she had the best chance of catching one at the fish weir. The creek was choked with hundreds of salmon, but at first Denali didn’t seem interested. Then we realized that she didn’t notice them under the water. As soon as they jumped out of the water, she flipped out. We devised a new strategy, which involved me splashing through the water to try to scare the salmon into jumping up. This failed epically, but it sure was fun. 

Looking for salmon on the fish weir

I assumed that Wes and his girlfriend, Lexi, would invite us to their place in town. I should’ve known this would be dinner, Alaskan style. They told us to meet them at a dry river bed along the way to Exit Glacier. We arrived at a mecca of people hanging out, camping, and driving adventure rigs. We cooked tacos on our camp stove and chatted, sharing stories of adventure, work, and life. Then we all headed to a bar in downtown Seward to check out live music. It was a true locals dive bar, cash only, with some interesting regulars. We had to leave Denali in the truck, and when I peaked out to check on her, the band was also outside taking a break. They said that from the stage, they could see her through the side door and she was staring at them the entire time! We didn’t head back to our camp until after midnight, and it was the first time on the trip I had to use my headlamp. Our second day in Steward was a little less fun, since it rained almost the entire day. We went for a scenic drive, unsuccessfully looked for a dog friendly coffee shop, and finally hunkered down in an Ace Hardware store. We had an elaborate meal planned for dinner that we did NOT want to make in the rain, and the universe seemed to answer our pleas when we found a public, covered picnic shelter with amazing views of the water that we cooked in while staying dry.

Sunset in Resurrection Bay

Our last stop on the Kenai Peninsula was in Homer. We originally hadn’t planned on going, but when we polled Alaskans we met along the way, multiple people named Homer as their favorite place in the state. Homer was certainly beautiful, but it also tested my patience like no other place had. Our first night was easy: we strolled the crowded Homer Spit, set up camp on the beach, and talked to a very eccentric and chatty old guy camped next to us. The next morning is when things went south. We had tea and coffee with our new friend, but I didn’t want to spend all morning being talked at, so I politely but firmly excused us from the conversation. We hopped in the truck to drive to a trailhead when it started raining, again. A mix of emotions hit me- sadness over the rain, guilt that I told the old guy off, frustration because there was nowhere to go to be alone and sulk- and I started laughing and crying simultaneously. Unfortunately, the roller coaster of emotions was a common occurrence throughout the trip. But now that I’ve had time to reflect on it, I’m grateful. Each rainy, buggy, gear-malfunction low made the good times that much more rewarding. I felt like I was living life fully, not just watching time go by in our usual climate controlled, sterile, comfortable world. 

Homer boat harbor

Sunset along the Homer Spit

A successful hike, once the rain stopped

After all our adventures on the Kenai Peninsula, we were ready to relax for a couple days. We had just the thing planned: a stay with Owen’s cousin, Shayla in Anchorage. Our timing worked out well, as Owen’s uncle was also visiting. Our stint there was brief but restorative: we took hot showers, did laundry, and dried out and repaired gear. We even had time for some fun. One day, we hiked nearby Flattop Mountain, and as we were picking blueberries on the descent we spotted two bull moose a couple hundred feet away. Perhaps even better than our wildlife spotting was getting to enjoy fresh Alaskan fish and game. One night, we had coho salmon that Shayla had caught just the previous day, and the next night we had pasta with caribou that Shayla’s now-husband had hunted. Fishing and hunting is such a key component of the culture and way of life in Alaska, and I was grateful we could experience a part of that. 

Flattop Mountain

Denali even helped us pick berries

Soon enough it was time to leave Shayla’s dry and cozy house and continue on. Of course, it poured the night we left and the next morning while we camped just outside of Whittier, in Prince William Sound. To give you a sense of the type of terrain we were in, Whittier can only be accessed by boat, plane, or by driving through a 2.7 mile long, one-lane tunnel. The tunnel was carved into the rough rock and so narrow it was kind of claustrophobic. I almost expected to emerge into Hogwarts or Mordor. 

Instead, we emerged into Whittier. Whittier was not part of our original itinerary but when someone we met a few weeks earlier suggested we take the ferry from Whittier to Valdez to shorten our drive, we figured why not? We took Denali for a rainy, muddy hike to tire her out, then loaded the truck onto the ferry’s car deck. Dogs have to stay in your vehicle during the ferry ride, so we said goodbye to Denali then went up to the passenger decks to watch the ferry leave port. By that point the rain had stopped, the clouds started to clear, and we finally got a glimpse of what Whittier looked like. It was beautiful! Thin waterfalls cascaded down plush, spongy-looking mountains. 

Passing another ferry in Prince William Sound

There were so many areas to explore on the ferry, I didn’t know where to go first. The upper decks on the front and back, the reading room, an indoor seating area? Plus, there were bathrooms with flush toilets, and a vending machine! I finally settled on the back upper deck, reading and lounging in the sun. I had a view of the fjords, waterfalls, glaciers, and small remote islands we passed, and even spotted a pod of orca whales! I treated myself to two bags of Cheetos from the vending machine. Compared to roughing it in our old dusty, dirty, truck, this felt like a luxury cruise. 

We arrived in Valdez and were immediately greeted with a concert. Owen thought it was for us, but it was actually part of Gold Rush Days, a festival to celebrate the mining history of Valdez. Despite the rain, the outdoor concert was packed. It essentially did not stop raining the next three days we were in town, and I had a little more trouble adjusting to it than the Gold Rush Days partiers. The lows were plentiful: our tent was soaking wet, there was not a single available dog-friendly hotel room in town, and every person camped near us sounded like they had COVID. The highs were rare but extra joyous. In fact, one of my favorite moments on our entire trip happened in Valdez. We took a scenic drive down a dirt road outside of town, as we do when it’s raining. The rough road wound through misty mountains, and we blasted music, drank road sodas, and picked berries. We even sprayed an expired can of bear spray to see what would happen. It was easy, spontaneous, fun. And I realized I hadn’t let myself do that recently. I’d been so preoccupied with staying clean, staying organized, and staying dry that I’d forgotten to enjoy myself. 

Entering Valdez... and the rain

Mineral Creek Canyon

As we left Valdez the forecast predicted rain every day for the next week. This was troubling because we were about to embark on the most remote backpacking trip of our lives, in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. But first, we had to get there…

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To Be Continued

The Summer of the Sabbatical

I’m writing the first draft of what you now read on the shores of upper Cathedral Lake in Yosemite’s backcountry. It’s midweek and I’m on a solo overnight backpacking trip. I didn’t have to work yesterday and I don’t have to work tomorrow, or even the rest of this week. In fact, I don’t have to be back at work for another 11 weeks. How? I’m taking a three-month sabbatical! Actually, Owen and I are both taking a sabbatical. Neither of our companies have formal sabbatical programs, but we convinced our bosses to let us take 3 months off. As we’ve started telling people about it, we’ve gotten a lot of questions. I’ll summarize the common ones here.

Q: A sabbatical at age 30? Really?

A: Yup. The seed was initially planted a few years ago, when Owen heard his company offered a sabbatical program, so we started brainstorming what we’d want to do, where we’d want to go. When he found out that unfortunately there was no program, we were already too excited to not go through with our plans. A sabbatical is based on a biblical practice that involved taking a rest period from working in the fields once every seven years, according to Google. Coincidentally, we’ve been working for seven years since we graduated from college. It’s time we took a break. 

Q: What are you doing with the time off? 

A: The short answer is that we are driving to Alaska in our 35 year old Toyota 4Runner with our husky and going backpacking and hiking along the way. The main destination is Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. Then we’ll drive back to CA and fly to the East Coast to veg out at the Jersey shore and spend time with friends and family.

Q: Wrangell-St who?

A: Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, it’s the largest national park in the United States (six times the size of Yellowstone) and it contains many of the tallest mountains and largest glaciers in the country. There are only a few people we’ve talked to that have heard about it, and only one person I’ve met who’s actually been there. It’s like the forgotten middle child of Alaska’s National Parks. 

Q: Will there be bears?

A: Yes. That’s like asking if there’ll be rain. It’s Alaska!

Q: Are you bringing a gun?

A: No, but we are bringing bear spray. This article helps explain our thinking: https://www.nps.gov/articles/bearsprayfirearms.htm 

Q: Are you going to sleep in the back of the 4Runner?

A: No, we’ll be sleeping in our trusty old tent. Back in 1987, they made 4Runners much smaller than they do these days. Between Denali's bed, our portable refrigerator, and the drawers, there is pretty much no space left. Even with zero stuff in the back, Owen, Denali, and I can’t fit comfortably. And as much as Denali would probably love to sleep outside, we don’t trust her to resist the temptation of late night explorations.

Q: Are you subletting your house?

A: Nope. We’re technically not allowed to. I did offer it to my sister for the summer but she declined, saying she’d miss her boyfriend too much ;)

Q: Will you be posting blogs during the trip?

A: Likely not. This way, I can fully immerse myself in our travels and be totally unplugged. Look for a mega-blog post when we get back!

Needless to say, we have been quite busy the last few weeks getting things ready. I’ve been researching our route, backpacking options, and a million other little logistics. A couple resources have been invaluable, namely Greg Fensterman’s Hiking Alaska’s Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Preserve. It includes sub-chapters with names like “Bear Wrestling and Other Critter Encounters” or just simply “Bugs.” He lists a myriad of hiking and backpacking options, and for each one he warns you of the challenges. Some have none listed, others have several: “Stream crossings, difficult moraine, very difficult glacier crossings, route finding, bushwhacking.” In some places he elaborates, with foreboding details like “Some may find the exposure to be more than they care to take on.” Any route with more challenges than I can count on one hand got eliminated from our consideration. This is a vacation after all, and we want to have some fun. 

While I’ve been reading books and researching online until my eyeballs feel like they’ll fall off, Owen has been working feverishly on the 4Runner late into the night, doing oil changes, tire replacement, fixing broken bolts, building drawers and way more. We’ve gone on a few trips recently to test the truck setup. One was to Lake Tahoe, where we car camped and I ran the Broken Arrow Skyrace 26K (about 16 miles). While the race itself was “short” by my skewed standards, it wasn’t without challenges: over 5,000 feet of elevation change, snow steps, loose rock, mud, basically terrain that will twist your ankle the second you stop paying attention. I survived unscathed, but when I got to the finish line Owen and Denali were nowhere to be seen. About 15 minutes later they arrived. It turned out that they hiked up the mountain to try to catch me at the last aid station, but Owen underestimated the climb (a common mistake of his at my trail races) and didn’t make it in time. They rode the gondola back down but I still beat them to the finish. The celebration afterwards was one of the best I’ve seen at trail races: live music, a free buffet, and a rambunctious dog that kept trying to steal unattended food from said buffet. As for the truck setup? The drawers were great, but they needed dividers, and we needed tie downs for all the gear on top of the drawers. There was still work to be done. 

I finished!

Snow steps on the course

Lounging on top of the new drawers

Round two: another shake out trip to Sawmill Lake in Tahoe National Forest for the 4th of July weekend. We packed as if we were heading up to Alaska so we could test the storage systems at full capacity. As a minimalist, it did stress me out a bit. For example, Owen brought a Queen sized air mattress- not to sleep on, but to use as a raft to float on the lake, which he never actually used. Besides testing out our setup, it was supposed to be a relaxing trip, just eating, drinking, and enjoying the lake. Instead, we ended up going on a 6ish mile hike, half of which involved bushwhacking up a creek and in the surrounding canyon, to get to another lake which it turned out was overrun with grazing cattle. Hey, it happens. 

Enjoying Sawmill Lake

View from the top of a waterfall

Taking a break during the hike 

And that brings me back to now, to the lake in Yosemite. I walked around almost the entire lake to find a great campsite and finally selected one. I discovered the tent I brought has shot elastic in the poles, but I very carefully set it up and staked it out, hoping a gust of wind won’t take it out. About 30 seconds later, a cowboy with five mules came over and very politely informed me that there was nowhere else for him to set up so he’d be camped nearby if I didn’t mind and that dinner would be loud. I had so many questions (Why would dinner be loud? Dinner for the mules or dinner for people?), but I settled on “Oh, is it a big group of people coming?” Only four others apparently. Four, I could deal with. 

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Update from the next morning: Because the polite cowboy’s group had to camp so close by, they invited me to dinner and to hang out with them. Along with a wilderness guide there were three clients, and they were hiking a section of the JMT, from Mammoth Lakes to Yosemite. As the guide described it, they were doing the backpacking version of RVing, since the mules could carry luxuries like camp chairs, gourmet food, and drinks. They were all friendly and fun to talk to, but I came out here to test myself, to see if I could handle a solo trip in the Sierras. I almost feel like I cheated. I mean, I had a wilderness guide, a cowboy, and 5 tough looking mules camped within 100 feet of me. If a bear were to saunter into camp in the middle of the night, I wouldn’t have to single-handedly fight it off. I guess I’ll just have to do another solo trip!

For now, though, we have a road trip to take. We are supposed to leave tomorrow, and we have a tentative plan but as we all know the best laid plans never survive first contact with the enemy, especially when you involve a 35 year old truck and a strong willed husky. So what will really unfold over the next 3 months? Your guess is as good as any. 

Researching with my assistant

Some Type 1 Fun

 One silver lining of the pandemic is that it’s made me very grateful to host visitors. So I was thrilled when our good friends Madeline and Evan visited from Washington for a few days with their new dog, Pippin, back in April. I got to show them all the highlights of the Santa Cruz mountains. We started with a beach day where an unsure Pippin went into the ocean for his first time, followed by dinner at an oceanside restaurant in Capitola. Another day, I took them, plus a few other friends, on my favorite local hike. They were a little hesitant when we pulled up to the trailhead at a quarry, but they were quickly won over as we climbed through a beautiful redwood forest to an overlook. I often run this trail, so it’s easy for me to forget that the climb is pretty brutal. Luckily, we hit up a winery afterwards to ease the soreness. Their visit wasn’t all smooth sailing- Denali and Pippin got into an altercation, Madeline was feeling under the weather- but what trip ever is? There’s few things better in life than spending time with an old friend. 

Photo credit: Evan Long

Shortly after they left, we flew to North Carolina for a 90th birthday celebration for Owen’s grandma. It was a journey to get there, which involved wearing a mask for nearly 24 hours, between having it on at work, in the airport, and on our red eye flight. By the time we arrived, my face felt greasier than a pepperoni pizza. The upside was that during our connection in Charlotte, my sister also had a layover there due to a last minute flight change. We hadn’t seen her since December, and we won’t see her again for several months, so it was quite a nice surprise! Though she did tempt me with a New Jersey bagel that I couldn’t eat since I was avoiding gluten and dairy at the time, but I'll forgive her.

We had a great couple days in Wilmington, North Carolina, going to the beach, lounging outside, playing with our nieces and nephews, and celebrating Gram. Even after our red eye flight, somehow we were not the most tired ones there. There were eight kids under age six, and a lot of tired parents. The day after we got back home, we received the dreaded text: one of the families tested positive for COVID. Several others ended up testing positive too. Owen and I got bad colds, but fortunately never tested positive. 

Luckily, we were fully recovered in time for closing day at our favorite ski resort in Lake Tahoe. Owen and I drove up the night before and slept in the truck in the nearby national forest. I wasn’t sure what to expect for closing day, especially since I’d never snowboarded as late as May. I figured there’d be crappy snow and a few trails open. What I wasn’t expecting was tailgating setups complete with full size couches, people skiing in head to toe denim, someone skiing down a groomer with a guitar case strung on their back, and a girl skiing in nothing but a bikini. That last one was a rumor, but I believe it.  After snowboarding for a half day, Owen and I chilled in the back of the 4Runner, cooked lunch on our backpacking stove, and enjoyed some cold beverages. It was easily the most fun I had all season. 

After saying our official goodbye to winter, it was time to welcome in summer with a trip to Yosemite in May. It was our first time taking Denali, and I knew most trails in the park would be off limits to dogs. However, there are a few exceptions and I researched the hell out of those exceptions, or at least I thought I did. After reviewing the park map we got at the entrance station, my heart sank when I realized the 11 mile Valley Loop Trail, which I’d been planning for us to do that day, was not dog friendly. So we pivoted and hiked the paved bike paths in Yosemite Valley, which allow dogs. There were great views of Yosemite Falls, several access points for Denali to swim in the Merced River, and it was an infinitely better way to see the Valley than sitting in a line of traffic. That night, we didn’t have a reservation to stay in one of the park campgrounds- that would be too easy. Instead, Owen turned us down a dirt road that he was convinced would have a place for us to dispersed camp. After a couple wrong turns, heading a half mile down a private driveway that was not well marked, and then some beginner-level rock crawling, we finally found a spot to park the truck. It also happened to have an amazing view looking into Yosemite, so even in my hunger-fueled bad mood, it was hard to stay mad. 

The next morning we drove into the park for a short hike to the Lower Yosemite Falls viewpoint, which was also dog friendly. Denali was more interested in looking for deer and squirrels than admiring the waterfall, but we were able to convince her to let us take a couple photos of her pretending to enjoy the view. Even without doing the 11 mile Valley Loop Trail, we were still exhausted, and we sat outside at a cafe recovering for a long time. While we were passed out at a table, I was reminded of one of my favorite parts of taking Denali with us on trips: It’s so much easier to strike up a conversation with strangers. A couple’s baby daughter was curious about Denali, and we learned that they were from England, on a whirlwind trip to see California’s highlights: Yosemite, Lake Tahoe, Napa Valley, Monterey. I was impressed with their choices, because in a state with so many diverse places, it can be hard to narrow it down.

For the long Memorial Day Weekend, Owen took the lead on planning a backpacking trip. I knew we were starting at Kennedy Meadows, a common stop for PCT thru-hikers, but I didn’t know much else. Owen was just as surprised as I was when we pulled up to Kennedy Meadows to what can only be described as summer camp, but with adults too. There were cabins, American flags, dogs, beers, a general store, horse rides, and it was as crowded as you could expect for the first holiday weekend of the summer. The first few miles of the trail were similarly crowded, and I wondered if we’d be able to find a good campsite. Denali must have sensed that too, since she tried pulling us slowpokes as quick as she could through the mountains. Despite her best efforts, we took lots of breaks and a long afternoon dirt nap, but eventually made it to the meadows that served as our basecamp for the weekend. And we practically had the place to ourselves! I don’t know where the crowds went, but I wasn’t complaining.  

The next day was as relaxing as any I’ve had in the backcountry. We slept in, then hiked to Kennedy Lake, just a mile or so away, and lounged there for a couple hours. Later that afternoon we explored a nearby meadow and found an unmarked trail that led us high up Soda Canyon. We weren’t expecting to find a trail so we hadn’t carried food or water, and eventually I started worrying that we’d have to eat Denali’s treats if we couldn’t find our way back to our tent that night. Luckily, that wasn’t necessary and we enjoyed our planned dinner for the night, topped off with s’mores between Ghirardelli chocolates. The next morning on our hike back out, we came across a unique sight: a horse carrying snowboards. They were hauling them into the backcountry for two clients that were going backcountry snowboarding. Now that’s the way to do it!

This spring instead of following a strict running plan, I’ve been going out of my way to find group trail runs, to change things up from my usual solo sufferfests. Because suffering is much more enjoyable with others, right? One such run was in the Marin Headlands, a 15 mile loop. There was a massive turnout, at least 50 runners so I figured there was no way I could get lost. But then I did, ironically with the same two older gentlemen I got lost with at the last group training run I did. Luckily they knew the area well, so we improvised until we met back up with the planned route. Getting lost is much more enjoyable with others, too.

I had one last adventure recently- I took the long way to work. Meaning, I biked 20 miles, then took the train the last 8 miles or so to my office. The ride had a little bit of everything: desolate country roads, a short but terrifying stretch along a major highway, steep dirt trails, and a paved bike path. I saw turkeys, deer, dogs, and someone dressed up in a Santa suit on a run. There is never a shortage of adventures to be had, if only you are willing to seek them out.

Forever Young

Age is a fickle thing. I spent the very last night of my 20s in a little cabin in the Sierra Nevada mountains, listening to Bob Dylan records by a fireplace with Owen and Denali. It could not have been more perfect. But to be completely honest, I was kind of freaking out. A couple days prior, I started having abdominal pain, nothing major, but according to Google it could be anything from a stomach bug to appendicitis. It set in motion the realization that even though I could run far, carry a heavy pack, and hike long days, I wasn’t invincible. And for the first time in my life, I felt old. My aunt wrote to me, “I’ll bet 30 feels ancient to you. But take it from someone on the other side of 60, it’s a drop in the bucket.” And she’s right. It’s just taking some time for that to sink in.

The first day of my 30s, I tried to push aside my worries and enjoy the day. On the recommendation of the cabin owner, we went on a quest to find Sardine Lake. We had vague directions to park at the nearby general store and walk a couple miles. It wasn’t hard to find, though. All we had to do was follow the snowmobiles cruising up an unpaved road and eventually we arrived at Lower Sardine Lake. It was completely frozen and Denali loved walking on the ice. We carefully made our way along a smaller trail to Upper Sardine Lake. It was stunning, mostly frozen and surrounded by snow covered peaks. The best part was that we had it almost entirely to ourselves. Denali was beside herself playing in the snow and only took out Owen once. 

Upper Sardine Lake

En route to the lakes

Our cabin for the weekend

I love doing snowy trips in the winter but sometimes it’s nice to have a change of pace. A long weekend in Big Sur back in January provided just that. We wanted to check out Sykes Hot Springs, which had recently reopened after five years of closures due to wildfire damage and overuse. This was our first time backpacking since last summer, and it was the perfect trip to ease back into it with just enough adventure to keep it interesting. For example, I used an open air toilet for the first time, which is not for the faint of heart. And we navigated multiple stream crossings and a steep, muddy trail to the hot springs. The springs were pretty small, so small that it was more like a foot bath than a full body soak. But I’m just grateful we were finally able to go. A week later, a wildfire burned a couple hundred acres in Big Sur, not too far from the hot springs. 

Hiking through the Ventana Wilderness

One of many stream crossings

Come President’s Day weekend in February, it was time for our annual trip to Death Valley. We planned to go back to Saline Valley (that’s the hot springs we discovered on a whim a couple years ago). This year for the first time we were driving the 4Runner, instead of the motorcycle, so we could bring Denali. And also so we could be a little more comfortable. See? We’re getting old!

Our first night we camped just inside the park boundary in a Joshua tree forest, and enjoyed a star-filled night sky until something even better happened: the moonrise over the Nelson Range. The next morning we had an uneventful drive over 40 miles of unpaved roads into Saline Valley. Arriving at the hot springs after that quiet, desolate drive through the desert was like being transported into a different planet. There were hundreds of tents, people and dogs everywhere, and naked people. Naked people hanging off the backs of trucks and riding bikes and walking through camp. It shouldn’t have been a surprise but when we’d been here in years past it had always been cold and windy, and everyone was bundled up if they weren't in the springs.

After we finally found a spot to set up camp, we went into full on relaxation mode for the next couple days. This wasn’t a trip for big mileage, minimalist gear, and type II fun. This was a trip for lounging in the sun, taking midday naps, and eating like kings. Exhibit A: we had steak, mashed potatoes, broccoli and wine one night. Eaten with spoons, of course, because that’s all we brought. When we got bored of doing nothing, we went exploring. At the suggestion of the camp host, we went in search of Beveridge Canyon, which supposedly had an abandoned mine. Finding it on our map was the easy part. Finding it in real life was another story. There are endless canyons in the Inyo Mountains and they all look the same to the unfamiliar eye. Eventually we found a couple landmarks, picked a dirt road to try, and guessed right. We explored the old ruins, and found a cabin claiming that you could stay the night (if you wanted to promptly contract hantavirus). On our drive back to camp we spotted two hitchhikers. It took us half a second to agree to offer them a ride, as long as they were okay cramming into our vehicle with Denali, which they were. We were happy to pay it back for all the rides we had gotten over the years. 

Relaxing at camp

A trip to the Saline Valley wouldn’t be complete without some soaks in the hot springs, so that was how we capped off each day. These hot springs are much larger than the ones in Big Sur, so we always had company and I never knew what kind of conversation to expect. One night the group talked at length about mountain biking in Lake Tahoe, another night it turned darker, to friends lost too young.  

After we left the Saline Valley, we made one last stop in Death Valley, to Eureka Dunes in the remote northwest corner of the park. They're the tallest dunes in California and we had actually driven by them last year when we were on the motorcycle but we were too exhausted to appreciate them. And then we dropped the motorcycle on Owen’s foot in the deep sand. We were coming back for redemption, albeit in a less risky vehicle. We made it to the dunes just fine, and to celebrate I did a solo sunset hike up one of the smaller dunes. It was surprisingly windy up there as I walked along a knife edge and I was a little uneasy from the exposure, even though there was nothing to be afraid of. A fall would just mean playing in the sand. 

Hiking Eureka Dunes

That night as we were cooking dinner we spotted the glowing green eyes of an animal in our headlamps. Our special visitor was a little kit fox! As much as we wanted to get a closer look, we didn’t want to give it an opportunity to sample our dinner so we tried to scare it off. But he was a curious fellow and wandered around the outskirts of our camp throughout the evening. That night was the fourth night in a row of camping in the desert and we joked that our tent had turned into a dust prison. Over a month later, I’m still finding Death Valley dust in my gear. 

Sunset over Eureka Dunes

It hasn’t been a great snow year in California but we’ve been trying to enjoy what we can of it before spring turns to summer. We got lucky back in early March when the weekend we planned to go up coincided with a snow storm. When we arrived at our Airbnb just outside South Lake Tahoe late at night, Denali jumped out of the truck and immediately started doing zoomies in the snow. She could barely contain her excitement as she ran and leapt through the powder. And I was just as happy as her! It brought me back to my days as a kid, playing for hours outside on snow days. That weekend we all got our snow fix: Owen and I went snowboarding, and the next day we took Denali for a hike out to Silver Lake, which was totally frozen and covered with fresh powder. The only thing missing was a sled for Denali to pull us in.

Enjoying a powder day

Getting her snow fix

We took one more trip up to the snow last weekend. The objective was to go snowboarding, but also to sleep in the back of the 4Runner. As Kelli calls it, “car camping” in its truest form. First we took Denali for a hike, back to Silver Lake. It was just three weeks later, but the lake was no longer totally frozen. The ice along the lake edges was starting to melt so instead of a hike on the lake Denali went for a swim in the shallows. The upside of the warmer weather meant that it wasn’t miserably cold when we camped that night. Even though we were up at 6,700 feet, and there was still snow on the ground, we were cozy and warm packed in the back of the 4Runner. The next morning we snowboarded for a couple hours at Kirkwood and I felt like we were getting away with something: we finally hacked the system and went to a ski resort for the weekend without the overpriced hotel stay.

Swimming through the icy slush

I’ve rounded out the past couple weeks with a few epic runs, proof that I can’t be getting that old if I can knock out some double digit runs with little training. One was up in Marin, with lots of views of the Golden Gate Bridge, with a small group of women and a dog that was in far better shape than me. The next was a group training run in Mount Diablo State Park. I wasn’t intending on going all the way to the summit of Mount Diablo, about seven miles each way, but I got so caught up in good conversation with others that I went all the way to the top. We all agreed afterwards that the run would have been a complete sufferfest if we’d done it solo. And that’s what these past few months have taught me. Health scares, work stress, general pandemic frustrations…it’s all much easier to get through with the companionship and support of others. 

Trail running near the Golden Gate Bridge