Mushrooms in the North Cascades, Day 1: Getting Started

Posted on October 27, 2015 by Maria Langer

A great drive up, despite the rain, and an introduction to the Learning Center, course, and fellow students.

Posts in this series:
– Introduction
– Day 1: Getting Started
– Day 2: The Mushroom Hunt
– Day 3: Cooking and Heading Home

The weekend-long course started on Friday, October 9. I got an early start, planning to make a leisurely drive on the scenic route and do some hiking along the way.

The Drive Up

Although I’d originally considered making the 170-mile trip to Diablo Lake by motorcycle, reality struck in the form of autumn weather at higher elevations. I was always a fair-weather motorcyclist and don’t like riding when temperatures dip below 50. Add rain in the forecast and it made a lot more sense to take a car.

So I took my Honda S2000. After packing a bag, loading up the car, and dropping off Penny at boarding for a week — I had two back-to-back trips and Penny would miss both of them — I fueled up and got the car washed. Then I headed north on the east side of the Columbia River with the top up so it could dry after the drip through the car wash.

It was a pretty day with filtered sunlight and calm winds. The leaves were just beginning to turn in the Wenatchee area and the reflections of trees on the glassy surface of the river were gorgeous. I looked half-heartedly for a place to stop for a photo, but didn’t find any. In hindsight, I think Lincoln Rock State Park would have been perfect.

I crossed the river at Beebe bridge near Chelan and continued up the west side. The water was no longer glassy; it had become choppy in a light breeze. The clouds were building, too. I made the turn at Pateros to begin my drive up the Methow River Valley. There were more trees turning color here; autumn was in full swing.

I stopped at Twisp for lunch at about 11:30. I almost always stop at Twisp when I’m in the area. This time, I went to the Glover Street Market, sat at the counter, and had the Forbidden Rice Bowl with chicken and tofu. Very tasty. Afterwards, I stopped in at the Cinnamon Twisp Bakery for some baked goods to munch on during the weekend.

And for those of you who are wondering, downtown Twisp is fine after the wildfires. Apparently most of the fire damage is up in the hills outside of town.

I put the top down, covered my head with a scarf in an attempt to keep my long hair under control in the wind, and continued on my way. Route 20 continues north past Winthrop and Mazama — where I usually spend Christmas cross-country skiing these days — and then begins winding into the North Cascades mountains. The weather worsened, the clouds dropped lower. Rain was imminent.

By the time I reached the turn off for the Washington Pass Overlook, it was raining. I pulled in, parked, and put the top up. I debated with myself about hiking up to the overlook and decided not to. I wanted to hike at Rainy Lake and couldn’t see getting wet twice. So I pulled out and continued on my way.

The Rainy Lake trailhead wasn’t far, but it was still raining when I got there. I got the feeling that it would be raining a lot that weekend. (It’s a funny thing about rain: I love it when I’m home — where it seldom rains — but don’t like it when I’m traveling.) If I wasn’t willing to hike in the rain, I suspected I wouldn’t get much hiking in that weekend. So I parked, put on my rain jacket, and headed down the trail.

One of the two creeks I crossed on a bridge on the way to Rainy Lake. This creek does not feed the lake.

There was some fall color along the way, but not much.

I photographed a lot of mushrooms along the trail. I’ll say what you’re thinking: this looks like a pile of poop.

This was my second hike at Rainy Lake. The first was on the way home from my camping trip in August. It’s an extremely easy one-mile trail — paved, for Pete’s sake! — and it winds through the woods, over a few bridges with bubbling creeks beneath them, ending up at an overlook for a small lake fed by glacial runoff that cascades down the cliffs in waterfalls. My goal that rainy afternoon was to get photographs of the fall colors reflecting in the lake’s glassy surface. But I made several stops along the way to photography the many kinds of mushrooms I spotted — after all, I was going to a mushroom class and thought I’d start observing before I arrived — as well as the creeks and fall color.

At the lake, low clouds, raindrops, and scant fall color made the scene a bit disappointing. But I took a few shots anyway, including a panorama. I also began creating what I call “video notes” — using my phone’s video feature to record video images, sound, and my voice narrating what I see, hear, and smell. These are not for publication — they’re personal memory aids. I plan to collect them and refer to them when writing about places in the future. I shot one at the lake and along the trail on the way back.

Rainy Lake on a rainy day. The scene was a bit disappointing.

Two women with a big dog joined me a while later. We chatted for a while and I took a photo of them with their camera. Then I headed back down the trail to my car, taking more photos of mushrooms along the way. You can see the photos and a summary of the hike on the Gaia GPS website; I uploaded it the next day when I got a access to the Internet.

Back at the car, I stripped off my wet rain jacket and got in. I continued west on the North Cascades Highway toward my destination. Little by little, I began to see more autumn color. I don’t think it had much to do with climate — I think it was related to the type of vegetation. I don’t know much about the local trees, but apparently yellow is the predominant autumn color. Back east, we had a lot more red and orange. I did stop at one bunch of trees to get a photo of my little red car in front of them. I really like the contrast here.

My 2003 Honda S2000, which I’ve owned since new. It only has 60,000 miles on it and is my favorite car. It’s a sweet little ride.

Boardwalk trail at Happy Creek.

It wasn’t long until I got to Ross Lake. There are lots of hiking trails around there, but I wanted one that was quick and easy. It was that kind of day. I wound up at the Happy Creek Forest Walk and Falls Trail, which is another very easy trail. This one had a lot of boardwalk through the forest with more interpretive signs and benches. I like the fact that the park services create trails like this to make nature accessible not only to handicapped folks but to families with small kids.

What interested me the most about this trail was the 1.2 mile hike to the falls beyond the easy part. I started along the trail, not even minding the rain coming down on me, eager to see Happy Creek Falls. But when the trail wound close to the road and paralleled it, it lost its charm. Rainy Lake’s trail is within hearing distance of the road for about 2/3 of its length and I was tired of listening to cars and trucks roll by. On a nicer day, I might have stuck with it, but in the rain I simply wasn’t interested. So I turned back and returned to the car, snapping photos along the way.

Happy Creek.

At that point, I was pretty much tired of hiking in the rain. So I headed to my destination with only a few stops along the way:

Diablo Lake on a cloudy, rainy day. Compare it to this shot of nearly the same view, taken in August.
Diablo Lake overlook, where I shot a few images of the lake with the low clouds.
Colonial Creek Campground, where I’d camped in August. I wanted to see how the reflections were in the lake there and was very surprised to see that the lake level had come down so far that there was no lake at the campground.
Newhalem General Store, where I wanted to pick up a book about the Skagit River dam projects. That’s also where I checked voicemail, returned a call from a friend, and sent a few last-minute texts. I knew my phone wouldn’t work at the Learning Center.

Orientation and Introductions

It was about four when I crossed the Diablo Dam and drove up to the Learning Center. I checked in and brought my scant luggage — just two small bags — up to my room. I was in the Fir Lodge, which is where all the Mushroom Course attendees would be staying, in a room that overlooked the whole Learning Center. I’d booked a single room but the rooms are all the same: they accommodate up to four people in two bunk beds. I’d have the room all to myself for the weekend. The lodge was set up like a dorm, with separate mens and ladies bathrooms down the hall. The bedroom doors did not lock — which I admit was kind of weird at first — but there were lockable cupboards in the closets for people who worried about valuables. I didn’t worry.

I had this dorm-style room all to myself.

Our classroom at the North Cascades Learning Center.

After taking my car down to the lakeside parking lot — there’s no parking up at the Learning Center — and hiking back, I took it easy for a while, snacking on one of the treats I’d bought at the bakery in Twisp. Then I joined my fellow classmates for an orientation meeting in the classroom we’d be using. It was in a nearby building and featured a long table with chairs on both sides. We were introduced to Lee, who’d lead the course, and several employees of NCI (North Cascades Institute). And we introduced ourselves. There were three women attendees, including me, all from the east side of the cascades, and two men, both from the west side. It soon became apparent that I had the least mushroom knowledge — the others already had experience gathering mushrooms for culinary and/or medicinal use. Lee started us off with an introduction to mushrooms, including a good explanation of what they are: the fruit of a fungus. (Sounds tasty, no?) And it should probably come as no surprise that most mushrooms are not edible — some are downright poisonous and can kill you.

Dinner was in the Dining Hall. The Learning Center prides itself on healthy meals using local sources whenever possible. I honestly can’t remember what we had. (Maybe I was tired.) I do remember it being good and having plenty of it. There was a berry cobbler for desert with fresh whipped cream. (Figures I’d remember that.) The Dining Hall was full; not only was our course being held that weekend, but there was also a watercolor painting course and what’s referred to as “Base Camp” — a sort of free-form educational experience that includes overnight stays and meals.

A nice place to relax in the evening, sheltered from the rain. I was too tired.

Then it was back to the classroom for a mushroom slide show. Lee used photos she’d taken over the years to illustrate different mushroom features that are used to identify them: gills, caps, rings, etc. I didn’t realize how many different kinds of mushrooms there are — although I’d begun getting an idea after all the photos I took that afternoon on my rainy hikes. I admit that I was nodding off in the darkened classroom. I think Lee saw that. When she brought the lights up, she let us go for the night. It was 9:30 PM, very dark, and still raining.

Scouting for a Custom Tiny Home in Idaho

Posted on September 25, 2015 by Maria Langer

I go to Idaho in search of a tiny home solution to winter travel needs.

Tiny houses are big these days. People seem unusually attracted to the idea of living in a very small, very simple space. Tiny home communities are popping up all over the west — such as the one in Portland. There are tiny home books and websites and forums. I’ve been told that there’s even a tiny home television show, although since never bothered to get connected with cable or satellite television, I’ve never seen it. (A quick search on Google for a link shows me at least three of them: Tiny House Builders, Tiny House Nation, and Tiny House Hunters. Seriously?)

While I agree that tiny houses are cute, they’re really not much different from living in an RV — which I did for two years and more summers than I care to remember. It’s nice having less space to heat, cool, clean, and furnish. But it’s not nice to live in cramped quarters with barely enough space to store the things you need to live and work. So while I have no problem with short-term life in a small space, I think people — especially families of two or more people — who turn to tiny homes for their primary living space are, well, nuts.

That said, I’m currently considering a tiny house as a replacement for my mobile mansion, which is now for sale.

The Misunderstandings

When I mentioned this on Facebook, I got a few sarcastic comments from friends of friends who (1) didn’t understand that I was considering this for part-time living and (2) apparently know nothing about tiny houses.

One person said, “I don’t like the idea of my toilet being in the same room as my kitchen sink.” Well, neither do I. And I have to say that I’ve never seen a tiny house design with the toilet in the kitchen. So I don’t know what the hell this clown is talking about.

Another person said, “Why would you want to live in a closet?” I wouldn’t. I don’t know anyone who would. But unless you have a 200+ square foot closet, most tiny houses are considerably bigger that your closets. They even have rooms and windows. Can you imagine?

Seriously: what’s with people on the Internet? Why do they find it necessary to shoot out their opinions in such a nasty, narrow-minded way, especially when they obviously don’t know what the hell they’re talking about?

‘Nuff said.

Tiny House RV

My idea is to have a custom tiny house built as a fully-functional off-the-grid RV. What gave me that idea? The Tiny Portable Cedar Cabins website. Dave, who designs and builds these cabins, constructs them on trailer frames using dimensions that keep them road-worthy without special permits. That means they’re no wider than 8’6″ and no taller than 13’6″.

Just like any RV on the road.

Because they’re built like this, they can be licensed as an RV and they follow all the rules governing how RVs are used and transported. That means I can hook it up to the back of my pickup and take it anywhere I can take an RV.

Of course, Dave doesn’t outfit them as RVs. He outfits them as homes, assuming the owner is going to park the unit and plug it into permanent power, water, and sewer line sources. He does offer off-the grid options like a composting toilet and propane appliances. But he doesn’t normally include the features a true off-the-grid RV needs, such as fresh water storage tanks and holding tanks for gray and black water. To me, that’s what distinguishes his “tiny portable cabins” from a true recreational camping vehicle.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t make one with the things I need in a real RV.

But I’m getting ahead of myself here.

Tiny Home in Marlin, WA

Dave works with Janet, who apparently manages his website and blog and helps him sell the his houses. Janet has one of his tiny house models, a custom “Caretaker” unit. She’s parked it on her property in Marlin, WA where it’s currently sitting, waiting for a tenant to arrive.

I drove out there about two weeks ago. Anyone who says that I live in a remote area really needs to go to Marlin (AKA, Krupp) to put things into perspective. The town has about 300 people and sits at the bottom of valley with the tiny Crab Creek running through it. The closest grocery store is 18 miles away; the closest supermarket is 34 miles away. It took me nearly two hours to drive there and once I was there, there was nothing much there. But there was Janet’s tiny house, sitting inside a fenced in area with a lush green lawn.

How fitting that I drove my tiny car to Janet’s tiny house.

We chatted for a while and then went in to take a look. The house was set up with a generously sized kitchen, tiny — and I do mean tiny — bedroom, and decent sized bathroom that even had a washer and dryer. It had a lot of nice touches, including pocket doors and a stained glass window. It also had two storage lofts that weren’t very tall. The exterior siding was cedar; the interior finish was a natural wood that I really like.

She showed me the composting toilet. Because the house was set in a spot without access to a sewer, she’d chosen this option. As she explained, the “liquids” go through some small holes on the front of the bowl where they collect underneath. If you plan to deposit some “solids,” you prep the bowl by laying in what looks like a giant coffee filter. When you’re finished, you “flush,” which opens the bottom of the bowl and drops the filter and its contents into another container. Somewhere along the line, you sprinkle something on the waste which gets the compost action going. Janet claims that it never stinks, but I find that very hard to believe. And, of course, you eventually have to empty the waste into a compost bin. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather live in a closet than have to deal with a toilet like that on a daily basis.

I asked her about RV-related options and she really didn’t have the information I needed. For that, I’d need to talk to Dave. And since I’m better talking in person to someone than on the phone, it meant making a road trip to Idaho.

Idaho Road Trip

Spirit Lake, where Dave builds his tiny homes, is about 40 minutes north of Coeur d’Alene, where a pilot friend of mine, Jim, lives with his wife Teresa. I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone by visiting them and Dave on the same trip.

I set off last Wednesday morning with Penny in my distance car: my 2003 Honda S2000. Bought new in 2003, it had just under 60,000 miles on it — indeed, it would roll over to 60,000 on my way home. I’d prepped it earlier in the week with an oil change and a check of tire pressures and fluids. (I’d also had the leather armrest repaired; the leather had been shrinking for years and made the car’s interior look shabby. Fixed!) I put the top down, secured a scarf over my head to prevent my hair from flying around and getting all tangled up, and took off.

We took Badger Mountain Road up toward Waterville. It was the first time I’d taken that road in that direction at that time of day and it was the highlight of the drive — the Wenatchee Valley looks amazing from a viewpoint along the way in early morning light.

Wenatchee from Badger Mountain.

I eventually hooked up with Route 2 near Douglas. From there, it was mostly straight roads over the Waterville Plateau, past rolling hills of harvested wheat fields and through small farm towns with tall silos. The road dipped down to cross Moses Coulee, then climbed again for more wheat fields and towns on the other side. I crossed the lower end of Banks Lake on the earthen dam in Coulee City and continued east on Route 2, through even more farm towns. I stopped in a small town along the way — Hartline? Almira? Wilbur? Creston? Davenport? Readan? — for bathroom break, buying an egg sandwich to go and then getting right back in the car.

Although I was enjoying the drive — I really do like a good road trip — I wasn’t disappointed when I arrived on the outskirts of Spokane. Route 2 dumped me on I-90 — which I could have taken from George if I wanted a faster route — and that took me through Spokane and info Idaho. Then Google Maps’ navigation feature directed me to exit onto Route 41. I took that north, passing a homemade billboard that said “Pray the Rosary, Vote for Trump,” and after a few miles and a few turns ended up at Dave’s construction lot outside the town of Spirit Lake.

Dave’s Tiny House Construction Yard

Janet had told me that Dave was working on about 20 houses and she wasn’t kidding. There were tiny houses in various stages of construction all over the yard. All different models, from a 22-foot Caretakers Cabin to much larger and longer models. Dave wasn’t doing any of the actual construction work himself — at least not when I drove up. Instead, he had at least a dozen guys working for him, each busy with a specific task on a specific building. Looks like he’s built himself a nice little business that employs quite a few people.

I told him what I was looking for and he led me over to one of the Caretakers cabins. It had exactly the bathroom and kitchen layout I’d envisioned. We discussed weight and tanks and all the other things I needed. I think he was surprised that I was so well-versed in not only construction but the kinds of features I needed and how they might be implemented in his buildings. For example, we discussed the placement of fresh water tanks up in the loft area and how they could be filled using a standard water connection with a value that switched the water flow to the tanks. I asked if having the tanks high would provide enough water pressure for sink and shower usage and he said it would, but not enough pressure for the instant hot water systems he used; a DC pump like the ones found in most RVs would be required.

We also talked about ways to make the building lighter. In the size unit I wanted — 24 feet max including a 4-foot porch — he estimated the total weight to be around 12,000 pounds. While my one-ton diesel pickup could easily pull that — after all, it pulls my 15,000 pound mobile mansion like its nothing — I was really hoping to replace the truck with a smaller, newer, gasoline model. That wouldn’t be advisable if I had to tow around a 12,000 pound RV. I asked if he could do 2×4 construction rather than 2×6 construction. He said that would allow for less insulation, which I was okay with. We also talked about using metal on the exterior, with the idea of it matching my building at home. That could drop the weight by another 500 or so pounds.

I absolutely love the upper floor windows in this little house.

After checking out how the stairs were constructed in one of the other units, we stopped to look at an unusual model that was taller and wider than the others with a “shed style” roof. It was a custom unit for a family of three in Sacramento that would become their primary residents. (Remember what I said about that idea earlier in this blog post?) It had an upstairs bedroom and a very small downstairs bedroom, a decent sized bathroom and a great room with a kitchen. The main features I liked were the huge windows; the home would be very bright indeed. I wondered whether I could design a unit with the same style roof and still get the sleeping loft I needed in a space only 8-1/2 feet wide.

And that’s where we left it. I told Dave I liked that style and would rework my design with that in mind. I said I’d send him my floorplan with a list of required features. He could then work up a price and try to estimate weight.

I was supposed to do that last weekend, but didn’t. I’d better work on it soon, though. If I decide to go forward, I’m looking at an 18-week wait.

As for pricing — well, one of the reasons I was attracted to Dave’s work is that the prices are within reason. I’d seen 400 square foot tiny homes like the one pictured here selling online for over $80,000. That was absurd. Dave’s prices were much more down to earth and easier to swallow.

Still, there was no doubt that this custom tiny home RV would cost about twice as much as a 20-foot RV — which I’d also been considering.

A Visit with Jim & Teresa

From Dave’s lot, I drove down to Coeur d’Alene. I texted back and forth with Jim and discovered that he was working on a project at his new homesite. I stopped for lunch in town, then drove out to meet him.

Jim and Teresa are building a big, beautiful home on a small lot on the Spokane River just east of the Lake Coeur d’Alene. Their property includes a two slip dock that they share with their next door neighbor. The place is walking distance from one of those Main Street style malls — you know, the ones with shops and restaurants and apartments over the businesses. Odd that we abandon our downtown areas, yet build replicas of those towns to live in.

Teresa and their dog Zeus showed up as Jim was giving me the tour. I saw the whole place and complemented them on the innovative design and unusual features — including L-shaped windows and angular walls. Afterwards, we drove over to the shopping center and had margaritas and nachos while catching up. I hadn’t seen them in two years. Jim, who had been a cherry drying pilot in the Wenatchee area for about 15 years, had sold his helicopter and given up flying.

We walked back to the house from there, letting the dogs run and play off-leash along the way. The we walked along the boardwalk between the homes and the river. The sun had set and nighttime came on. We got back to Jim’s truck, which we’d left at the house, and rode in it back to the restaurant parking lot to fetch Teresa’s truck and my car. Then we rode back, convoy style, to the house they were still living in.

I got the guest room in the basement, which had been their son’s bedroom. It was nice and dark and quiet down there. I slept well.

In the morning, we had breakfast at a restaurant not far from town. I think it was the same business they’d taken my wasband and I years ago, when we’d passed through with my old RV on a sort of road trip vacation. Now it was in a new building. Great breakfast, more great conversation. Teresa recommended that I stop at Blue Dog RV in Post Falls to see what they had in the way of RVs. Since I wasn’t in any hurry to get home, I figured I may as well take a look. After all, there aren’t any RV dealers near where I live.

We said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. It was about 10 AM.

RV Shopping

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s RV shopping. I’d gone through this too many times to like it.

When I bought the mobile mansion back in 2010, I honestly thought it was the last RV I’d ever need. I bought it to fit a specific need: a seasonal home for two grown people and a mid-sized dog. I figured my now wasband and I would live in it every summer for 4 to 6 months, then go home to Arizona for the rest of the year. That’s why it’s so damn big. I wanted it to be comfortable for two people for months at a time. And I fully expected to use it for many years to come, as semi-retired snowbirds.

Unfortunately, plans change. My wasband is now nothing more to me than a sad, bitter memory. I live in my own home in Washington state where I make most of my living in the summer months as a cherry drying pilot. I keep busy enough in the spring and fall to stay home. But I want to travel in the winter and spend some time in California in the early spring, where my helicopter is parked on frost control duty. I figure that I’ll only be on the road 2 to 4 months out of the year and, during that time, I won’t be parked in one place. Since it’s just me and Penny the Tiny Dog, I don’t need a lot of space. And I definitely don’t want a big rig. I want something easy to tow and easy to park. While towing the mobile mansion isn’t difficult with my big truck, parking it is a pain in the ass. And because of it’s size, I’m automatically closed out of more than a few park campgrounds.

So here I am, looking for a new solution to meet a new need.

One thing I learned the last time around is that it’s all about floor plans and features. I want the length under 20 feet, but I want the bigger refrigerator and I want the stove with the oven. That cuts out about 3/4 of the shorter models. I don’t want slides (or pop-outs) — they add weight and maintenance concerns. I want plenty of windows, a power-controlled awning, stereo sound system with DVD player, and television.

I am a sucker for big windows in an RV. This Hideout was a bit longer than I wanted but the big window in the back made it nearly irresistible.

So that’s what I proposed to the very patient salesperson, Lydia, at Blue Dog in Post Falls, ID. After reviewing a few models online, she loaded me into her golf cart and drove me out onto the huge lot. We looked at about a half dozen models. We even drove back to their other lot in Coeur d’Alene to look at models there. Just when I started to glaze over, she focused me back on what we’d seen. She priced up a new and a used Keystone Hideout, each in a different style. The prices were workable, but the deal wasn’t good enough for me buy that day. I wanted to sell the mobile mansion — which was worth far more than these smaller rigs, making a trade-in impractical — before I bought a replacement.

And I was still thinking about the tiny house idea.

Spokane’s Falls

It was nearly 2 pm when Penny and I drove away. By this time, I was very hungry. But I also felt that I needed to see more of the area before I went home. I’d heard of Spokane Falls and decided to check that out. Google guided me.

I knew nothing about the area, but when I drove over a bridge and saw an aerial tram, I decided I needed to get on it. I navigated back to a shopping mall called River Park Square and got a parking space across the street in the shade. I cracked the car’s windows, leaving Penny inside, fed the meter with my credit card, and went inside.

Conveyor belt sushi, Spokane style.

Back in the 1980s, I worked in New York City for New York City. My partner, a Chinese woman from Hong Kong, occasionally took me for lunch at a restaurant near the Empire State Building that served up dim sum and sushi on a conveyor belt that wound past all the seats. Since then, I’d seen conveyor belt sushi only one other time — in San Francisco. Believe it or not, they have it in Spokane at the mall I found myself in that afternoon.

Needless to say, that’s where I ate.

And maybe it won’t surprise you when I tell you it wasn’t that good.

On the Spokane Falls Sky Ride.

Afterwards, I made my way out to the ticket booth for the Spokane Falls Sky Ride. It was pretty much deserted on that Thursday afternoon, so I didn’t have to wait. I paid $6.50 (with a AAA discount) and was loaded aboard my own car.

I’ve seen reviews of this ride and some of them pretty much bash it. But I thought it was kind of fun. I even did a live broadcast on Periscope which had quite a few viewers. And the view of the falls is great!

The Trip Home

By that time, my two hours of meter time was nearly up. I went back to the car, leashed Penny, and took her for a walk around the block. We got back into the car and headed toward the freeway. I’d already decided to pass on the long ride through the wheat fields. I got on I-90 and headed west.

The drive was long and dull, made only marginally more interesting by the string of podcasts I listened to along the way. I exited at George and followed familiar roads all the way home. It was probably around 8 when I pulled into my driveway.

Was my trip a success? I think so. I got a chance to see Dave’s tiny homes first hand and learn that what I wanted was definitely possible. I also got to see some friends I’d missed — and get an invitation to return in the spring with my boat when their house is done. And although it had taken longer than I wanted to price up a few RVs, it was good to see what was available.

Now I’ve got work to do: sketch out a floor plan for a tiny home and see if Dave can make it happen. I’d love to hit the road with something different next winter.

A Trip to Portland

Posted on September 23, 2015 by Maria Langer

An activity-packed road trip with a foodie bonus.

My helicopter was due for an annual inspection before the end of August. The Robinson mechanic with the local fix-it guys, Alpine Aviation, had moved on to another job elsewhere, so there wasn’t a qualified mechanic on staff to do the job. That meant taking it out of town to my backup “local” Robinson shop in Hillsboro, OR. I’d brought the helicopter there a few years before when I was in the same situation. They treated me fairly, recognizing that I needed the helicopter safe and legal but not necessarily factory-perfect. And because they worked on Robinson helicopters all the time, they had a lot of experience with the various things that needed special attention.

After too much time flying in low-visibility, smoke-filled skies, it was a real pleasure to drop down into the Klickitat River Valley.

So on August 24, I left Wenatchee’s smoky skies and headed south with an old Macworld Expo friend of mine, Raines Cohen. Although the trip should have taken us about 90 minutes on a direct route, heavy wildfire smoke and a TFR near Mt. Adams forced us to go past Yakima and down the Klickitat River Valley, then down the Columbia River to Troutdale before cutting southwest to Hillsboro (HIO). Total time in the air was just over two hours. We caught a train to downtown Portland where Raines bought me lunch at a block full of food trucks. I had no time to dawdle; I hopped on another train to Portland International Airport (PDX) to catch a flight back to Wenatchee.

I’d originally planned to catch another flight back to Portland with a cab to Hillsboro to pick up the helicopter. When I asked Kirk if he wanted to join me and spend a few days in Portland, he suggested that we drive. I admit I wasn’t too happy with the idea. It’s more than five hours from Wenatchee to Portland and he’d have to drive back alone. But he said there were things we could see along the way. I’m always up for a road trip, so I cancelled my flight arrangements and made plans for the trip. That included getting a house-sitter — my friend Alix with her dog Remi — to watch the kittens I’m fostering in the garage and Penny the Tiny Dog, who I’d decided to leave behind to keep things simple.

Day 1: Wenatchee to Hood River

We left in the morning on Tuesday, September 1. We would have gotten an earlier start, but I had to drop my motorcycle off for servicing and the shop didn’t open until 9. So it wasn’t until after 10 AM that we rolled out of town.

Yes, the freeway would have been quicker, but just look at the twists and turns of Route 821 in the Yakima River Canyon!

We took Route 2 to Route 97 over Blewett Pass. After a quick pit stop at a truck stop in Ellensburg, we continued south on a road I’d been dying to drive: Route 821. This road twists and turns inside the Yakima River Canyon, following the course of the river the whole way. It was a great drive, even in Kirk’s Equinox, but one of these days I’m going to get back down there on my motorcycle.

We got on the freeway near Yakima and took that to Route 97, which goes through Washington and Oregon into California. It’s the fastest route between Central Washington and northern California — the route I take when I drive between Wenatchee and the Sacramento area for frost work each spring. In this part of Washington, it cuts across the Yakama Nation, with wild horses sometimes visible grazing near the road.

One interesting stop along the way: St. John’s Monastery & Bakery. This is a Greek Orthodox monastery with a bakery operated by nuns. The bakery sells all kinds of Greek foods, including pastries, breads, ready-made meals, and honey. We bought and shared a baklava which may have been the best I’ve ever eaten. I highly recommend a stop here if you’re driving through the area. It’s the only thing in the Goldendale area worth visiting (in my opinion).

At my request, Kirk hammed it up on the Stonehenge “altar.”

One of the reasons we took Route 97 south was because Kirk wanted to show me the Maryhill Stonehenge. This is a replica of the famous Stonehenge in England, built the way the original was originally built — in other words, not in ruins. It’s situated on a hillside overlooking the Columbia River. It’s a weird spot, mostly deserted but kept clean. We walked around the rocks and then hiked down to the gravesite of Samuel Hill, the man who’d built it. Hill was also one of the driving forces behind the construction of the amazing Columbia River Highway, which we’d drive over the next day or so.

We drove down the hill from Stonehenge and made a stop at a farm stand surrounded by orchards. Kirk bought a 20-lb box of peaches. I introduced Kirk to paletas (Mexican ice pops), one of my favorite local treats.

By this time, it was nearly 4 PM. We’d taken a lot longer to drive south than we expected. But that didn’t matter. We weren’t in a hurry. I had reservations for a place in Portland, but not until the next day. We could stay anywhere that night. I like that — being able to travel at my own pace, visiting places of interest that I stumble onto.

Kirk had always wanted to visit the Maryhill Museum of Art, so that’s where we went next. The museum is housed in a mansion built by Samuel Hill in the early 1900s. Although it wasn’t quite finished, it was dedicated in 1926 by Queen Marie of Romania; there are many paintings of her and furniture items she designed in the museum’s lobby. The museum also has a huge collection of Rodin sketches and sculptures, as well as a variety of other interesting collections. Although it had turned into a gray day, after walking through the museum, we took a nice walk on the grounds overlooking the river. If you like art and you’re in the area, it’s worth a stop.

Théâtre de la Mode is an exhibit that shows fashions of post World War II France on 1/3 size mannequins.

I had the pleasure of riding east on these switchbacks on my motorcycle back in 2011.

We headed west on Route 14, which winds along the Washington side of the Columbia River. By this time, it was well after 5 PM and time to start thinking about a place to spend the night. We crossed the river at The Dalles, got on Route 30, the Historic Columbia River Highway, and headed west on the Oregon side of the river. That brought us up a steep, switchbacked road to the Rowena Crest Viewpoint. This is a must-stop along the drive, with sweeping views up and down the Columbia River. For folks with time who arrive earlier in the day, there’s also a number of hikes that’ll take you higher onto the plateau to the south.

The view from Rowena Crest on that gray afternoon. This shot is looking up the Columbia River toward Rowena and The Dalles.

We got back on Route 30, which dumped us onto I-84 after a while. We exited at Hood River. We then followed a series of signs for the “Historic Hood River Hotel,” winding up in town in front of a three-story brick building. Since I’ll take a night in a historic hotel over a night in a Quality Inn (etc.) any day — as long as it’s not crazy expensive — I voted to check it out. The room we got on the top floor was clean and comfortable for only $100. Best of all, the place was walking distance from numerous restaurants. The desk clerk suggested Kin Eatery, which was new, and that’s where we wound up. We had a great dinner with even better wine. (I’d link to their website, but it’s so completely useless that I don’t want to waste my time or yours.)

It had been a great, busy day. We both slept well.

Day 2: Hood River to Portland

The hotel had a very nice buffet breakfast that was included in our room rate. Fresh baked scones, yogurt, cereal, fruit, juices, and other healthy choices. And I got a latte. What else could I want?

We continued on our way, following I-84/SR-30 to the Bonneville Dam Fish Hatchery. I wanted to show Kirk the huge sturgeon I’d seen there way back in 2005, the year of my “midlife crisis road trip.” I don’t think he believed that the fish was as big as I claimed. But he is. His name is Herman the Sturgeon and he’s 10 feet long and 500 pounds. He’s still swimming around in the sturgeon pond, accompanied by several large friends, all of which are visible in a fish window or from walkways around the pond.

It poured like hell while we were at the fish hatchery, but we dodged raindrops and eventually made our way back to the car. From there, we went into the Bradford Island Visitor Center at the Bonneville Dam. There are quite a few displays there covering the salmon runs, dam construction, and native people. There’s also a fish ladder with a viewing window — quite a few salmon were running upstream. We left just as a tour was beginning.

Here’s a view of the Bonneville Dam complex shot with my helicopter’s nosecam on my way home that Friday. The fish hatchery is in the lower right and Bradford Island is about dead center.

It was while we were at the visitor center that I listened to my voicemail messages and got some bad news. During the final part of the inspection the day before, the mechanics had found a screw and washer in the oil pan screen. They didn’t know where it had come from but they obviously had to find out. I called the maintenance boss to talk to him about it. He said he’d gotten some info from Lycoming, the engine manufacturer, and the guys were working on it. But it would definitely delay my pickup. Instead of coming for it on Thursday morning, as planned, it might not even be ready by Friday afternoon. This was very bad news for me since I had a rides gig on Saturday and three charters on Sunday. I told him to do the best he could and hung up. It looked as if at least one of us would be spending an extra day or two in Portland.

When we left the visitor center, we were dumped back on the freeway until we could finally exit back where Route 30 continued on its own. This is probably the most well-known stretch of the Columbia River Highway, where one waterfall after another tumbles off the cliffs alongside the road. There are countless hiking trails with ample parking and no shortage of scenery. I could easily spend a week just exploring this part of Washington on foot.

The iconic Multnomah Falls.

We passed one waterfall after another, but didn’t stop. Our destination, which I hoped to make in time for lunch, was Multnomah Falls. This is the iconic waterfall of the Columbia River Highway — the one with the bridge across it. You know. That one.

We arrived at 11:30 and, by some miracle, got a parking space close to the front door. That was a good thing because it was raining again. I dashed inside the lodge while Kirk went in search of a restroom. I got us one of the last tables in the restaurant. I had a nice sautéed trout with vegetables for lunch.

The Multnomah Falls area includes a trail with 11 switchbacks that climbs to the top of the falls.

After lunch, we headed out for a closer look at the falls. It had stopped raining by then and the sun was poking out. We did the quarter-mile hike up to the bridge, where we stopped and looked at the water falling from far above us. The trail continued and so did we.

Yep. 11 switchbacks.

It was a long hike to the top of the falls. Not distance — it’s only about a mile from the bridge — but in time. There are 11 switchbacks, each of which was marked so you could track your progress. The switchbacks were needed because we were basically climbing up the side of a cliff. I don’t do well on uphill climbs and I needed a lot of rest stops. Kirk was very patient. It rained on us, of course — hard at times — and we found shelter up against the large trees alongside the trail. There were plenty of people on the trail, but I wouldn’t call it crowded.

I reached far out with my camera and shot this view looking down the falls. If you look closely, you can see the bridge.

Eventually, we reached the highest point of the trail and started a descent to Multnomah Creek. A few steps down to a circular platform and we were there, at the top of the falls. I’ll be the first to admit that if I hadn’t been encouraged all the way by Kirk, I probably wouldn’t have finished the hike. But I was so glad I did! The view looking back down was amazing. We stayed for about 20 minutes. During that time, the rain stopped and the sun came out. It was a beautiful afternoon, with wispy clouds floating up the Columbia River valley.

Here’s a view of the Columbia River from the top of Multnomah Falls.

We hiked back down and continued down Route 30. From that point, we made several waterfall stops: Wahkeena, Bridal Veil, and Latourell. We stopped and did short hikes at some of them. I tried Periscoping once or twice but didn’t have a good, strong signal. The weather pretty much held, although it did drizzle a bit while we were at Latourell Falls.

Wahkeena (left) and Latourell (right) Falls are stops right along Route 30.

After some more twisting road that led away from the river briefly, we wound up at Vista House, yet another historic overlook along the road. The view was so spectacular — especially with the post-storm clouds and blue sky — that I took several pictures of that and none of the building itself. It’s a small domed building with a second floor, walk-around viewing area. I managed to capture a good image as I flew over it a few days later in my helicopter.

The view from Vista House that Wednesday afternoon.

A view of Vista House from the air shot from my helicopter two days later.

Although the Columbia River Highway continued on toward Springdale and Troutdale, the scenic parts pretty much ended at Vista House. We continued down the road to I-84 and pointed the car toward Portland. I worked my phone’s navigation features to guide us to the AirBnB property I’d reserved for our overnight stay. We arrived at about 5:15 in a quiet Portland neighborhood, let ourselves in with the hide-a-key, and relaxed for a while.

Pok Pok features indoor/outdoor seating.

Our hosts arrived a while later and after having a nice chat with them and marveling at the huge size of one of their cats, we headed out on foot for dinner. My Twitter friend Terry had recommended a Thai place called Pok Pok, whicih was about five blocks away. (I didn’t realize it when I made the reservation, but the AirBnB property I’d booked was within walking distance of one of Portland’s many foodie areas.) There was a wait to get in, but they had openings at the bar so we took two seats there. We ordered the Fish Sauce Wings that Terry had told me about, as well as Kai Tuun (a chicken dish) and Kaeng hang Leh (a pork dish). Kirk had a Thai beer and I had one of their weird drinks, a Lord Bergamot (Smith Teas bergamot tea infused vodka with Som honey drinking vinegar, orange liqueur, and soda on the rocks), which was so tasty I had two. Although the food was great, I didn’t think it was worth waiting for the amount of time we would have had to wait for a regular table. And when the two people who sat near us admitted to also being out-of-towners, I began to suspect that Pok Pok is a tourist joint. Still, no regrets. It was a great meal.

Afterwards, we walked down the block to Salt & Straw, a “small, hip ice cream parlor featuring unique, housemade flavors like blue cheese & olive oil,” according to Google. It had been recommended by our AirBnB hosts. The line stretched out the door about a half block and didn’t move very fast. I couldn’t imagine any ice cream being good enough to wait an hour for and neither could Kirk. So we had a pastry at the French bakery next door, sitting outside and watching the folks on line as we ate.

A nice evening walk back to our lodging finished the day.

Day 3: Portland

The only thing disappointing about the AirBnB place we stayed was breakfast: they put a French press and hot pot in our room and left cold cereal in the kitchen for us. While weak coffee and cold cereal is apparently enough of a meal for Kirk, I needed some decent coffee. So after getting dressed for the day, we drove about halfway to the K&F Clinton Street Coffeehouse and walked the rest of the way. I got a latte and a breakfast pastry; Kirk passed on a second cup of coffee. Afterwards, we took the long way around back to the car, walking on Division Street. We discussed whether Kirk would stay an extra day with me and he told me he would. Later, I booked the same place for that night.

We headed into Portland. Kirk wanted to visit the Lan Su Chinese Garden. We found the place, parked, and then discovered it wasn’t open yet.

So we walked to the destination I wanted to visit: the famous Powell’s City of Books. All I can say is wow. I’ve never been in a bookstore with so many books. With limited time — the meter was running at our parking spot 10 blocks away — I had to choose one topic to explore. I went to the Writing books area and found hundreds of books about writing. What’s neat about Powell’s is that they have both new and used books and don’t seem too worried about how much shelf space they use. It was an amazing selection. I bought two books, both of which were used and much cheaper than if they’d been new. I could easily spend an entire day in this bookstore, but I worry about how many books I’d carry out with me.

Lan Su Chinese Garden is a beautiful oasis of nature in downtown Portland.

Back at the garden, Kirk fed the meter and bought tickets for the garden. It was a beautiful place, with a carp-stocked pond, Chinese style buildings, and lush vegetation, all surrounded by a tall wall that blocked out most views (but not sounds, unfortunately) of the city beyond. We spent about an hour wandering around while a tai chi class moved silently on a platform overlooking the pond.

From Chinatown, we went in search of lunch. I wanted to show Kirk the block of food trucks I’d seen with Raines two weeks before. I don’t think he understood that there was an entire block of them. I had a rough idea of where it was so we moved the car and parked near there. After walking around for a while, trying to find something that looked remotely familiar, I finally asked for directions. The place we wanted was the block bordered by SW Alder, SW 10th, SW Washington, and SW 9th. It’s a full block lined with at least 50 food trucks selling all kinds of food. We walked the entire block, looking for something that struck our fancy. (I’d had a gyro two weeks before but wanted something more exotic.) Finally, we split up. I had a Tangine meal from a Moroccan food truck and Kirk had something Asian.

We ate on a bench in nearby O’Bryant Square, a park with a weird collection of people. I’m not sure if Kirk realized that the woman sitting at the far end of our bench, tapping away at her smartphone with long, manicured fingernails, was actually a man. The two of us did spend some time wondering why an extremely clean and well-dressed Hispanic man, who had a smart phone, was eating food from the garbage. And we disagreed entirely about the musical talents of the homeless-looking man who strummed away on a guitar in the middle of the crowd — I said he had no talent but Kirk was more inclined to think he did. Whatever. The highlight of the park — if that isn’t enough — was the bicycle pedal driven blender some guys were using to make and sell iced smoothies. They gave me a sample as we walked by for a closer look and it was awful.

After a walk in Pioneer Courthouse Square, we got back in the car and headed out to Washington Park in search of a hike. We’d been directed to the Hoyt Arboretum visitor center. That’s where we got a nice trail map and picked a combination of several trails that wound through tall pine forests. Kirk knows a lot about trees and shared some of his knowledge of what we saw. There’s a stand of giant redwoods and even a few sequoias in there and our path took us past all of them. Of course, it rained when we started the hike, but I kept dry in a $3 poncho I bought at the visitor center. I was seriously tired of being wet. But it was a pleasant walk all the same and, for most of the walk, the sound of the city and highway faded away.

I should mention here that I’d been to Washington Park’s International Rose Test Garden a few years before and although we didn’t visit it on this trip, I do highly recommend it.

Afterward, we headed back into town. I wanted to visit the Pendleton Home Store with the thought of buying a king-size blanket for my bed. I’d gotten a bedspread months ago, but thought I could do better. We found the store and parked nearby, then spent some time browsing the store. I worked with a salesperson to go through the catalog for options. Unfortunately Pendleton doesn’t carry all of its styles in king size and, if I’m going to spend $400 for a blanket, I have to really love it. So I walked away empty-handed.

It was nearly 5 PM when we headed back to our lodging. We relaxed for a while before heading out to dinner. We walked again — the weather had cleared out and it was very pleasant — this time going to Bollywood Theater, an Indian restaurant recommended by our hosts. I snagged us a seat inside and we waited on line to order. I can’t really remember what we ordered, but we shared it and it was delicious. Afterwards, I checked out the attached Indian market, where I could buy all the grains and spices I needed to make authentic Indian food. Unfortunately, I hadn’t come with any lists of ingredients I’d need in the future. Next time, I’ll be better prepared. I really love Indian food.

We got lucky on the way back to our room. Salt & Straw’s line was much shorter and, not willing to leave the area without a taste, we got on line. Ten minutes later, we were inside, tasting some of the unusual flavors they offered. I tasted Pear and Blue Cheese. It was interesting, but I ended up with a half scoop of Freckled Woodblock Chocolate and a half scoop of Honey Lavender. They were both good, but next time I’ll go for the Stumptown Coffee & Burnside Bourbon. (Don’t know how I missed that.)

The flavor board at Salt & Straw.

We took a different route back to our room and settled in for the night, exhausted from a full day.

Day 4: Portland to Hillsboro to Home

Kirk had his weak coffee and cold cereal breakfast again. I tried the coffee again, but really couldn’t drink it. Then we packed up and said goodbye to our host. I navigated us to Hillsboro, which is southwest of Portland. Along the way, I suggested a few return routes to Kirk. The weather looked good and I know he wanted to make a few stops, possibly for some hiking, along the way.

Despite being partially undressed, my helicopter was almost ready to go.

My helicopter was out on the ramp, running with a few panels still off when we arrived. That was a good sign. It meant it was mostly assembled. Kirk came inside the shop with me were I chatted with the mechanics. They needed a few more hours. That was no problem; I’d rented a car from Avis for the day and would keep busy while Kirk started the long drive home. So Kirk dropped me and my luggage off at the Avis desk nearby and we said our goodbyes. I got the keys to a small car that would cost a whopping $30 for the day, loaded up my stuff, and headed out on my own.

I got coffee and a breakfast sandwich at a local coffee shop. Hell, I have my priorities straight!

Then I went shopping. I found a Trader Joe’s and stocked up on the various things they sell that I really love. I also snagged a 2-lb box of fresh figs, which I love. Then I stopped at a number of other places: Pier 1, Michael’s, Sportsman’s Outfitters, others. I bought a few small things along the way — after all, they needed to fit inside the helicopter. I went into REI and bought Kirk a map and book about the Pacific Crest Trail, which he kept telling me he wanted to hike. Around then is when my phone rang. My helicopter was ready.

I headed back, returned the car, and managed to carry all my luggage and purchases down the ramp to my helicopter. I stowed it on board and went inside to settle my bill and order some fuel. The bill was a lot higher than I expected, mostly because of that damn screw, which required 14 hours of labor to replace in the oil pan baffle. Sheesh.

I was airborne by about 3 PM. It didn’t take much research to realize that a direct route home would not be possible. There were storms with low clouds to the north, heading east. I figured I’d follow the same route I’d taken down two weeks before, but was over Klickitat when I realized even that would be difficult. So instead, I headed east to the Columbia at Mattawa and followed the river up from there. I wrote about part of the flight elsewhere in this blog and have shown some of the photos my helicopter’s nosecam captured in this post.

Here’s one more photo: Multnomah Falls from the air, shot on my way home.

I was home by 5 PM and put the helicopter away. Penny was very happy to see me. Kirk got home an hour or two later. He’d taken his time on the way home, making a few stops along the way.

Postscript

That trip to Portland was likely my last trip with Kirk. A few days after our return from Portland, I ended our relationship.

Things had started off very well, but soon settled into the kind of frustrating rut you’d expect when two smart people, set in their ways after 50+ years of life experiences, end the good-behavior courtship phase of the relationship and reveal what they’re really all about. I realized that we were not as compatible as I’d hoped and pulled the plug before either of us could get too emotionally involved.

If there’s one thing my disastrous marriage taught me, it’s this: I’d rather be alone than with the wrong man. Life is too short to let someone else make you unhappy.

So I’m single again, without any new emotional scars, enjoying life on my terms. But I’m still keeping an eye out for a guy who might be the right companion for future adventures.

I’m thinking of the Florida Keys in November. Any takers?

Jumpoff Ridge and Clear Lake

Posted on July 25, 2015 by Maria Langer

A Jeep drive to an exploratory hike.

Kirk and I spent much of Wednesday morning clearing boxes of items out of my RV (AKA the “Mobile Mansion”) as part of a major cleanup. It was a big job made more manageable by a helper who kept me focused and moving. I suspect that if Kirk and I joined forces for any big job, we’d get it done in record time.

Afterwards, we went inside for a break and lunch. I whipped up some pizza dough and picked eggplant, zucchini, and tomatoes from my garden. By 1 PM, we were each making our own pizza masterpieces, which we later ate out in the shade on the deck.

That took us to 2 PM. Half the day was still ahead of us.

We’d talked about taking out the boat for a short ride, but it was windy down on the Columbia so we put it off for another day. Then Kirk suggested taking the Jeep up onto Jumpoff Ridge, where a road wound along the edge of the cliff. I’m always game for a Jeep ride, so we pulled out the Jeep, loaded Penny and some bottled water on board, and took off.

On Jumpoff Ridge

Jumpoff Ridge is the name of the cliff face due south of my home. It rises more than 1,000 feet from the shelf where my home sits. The side facing me is layered basalt columns that are strikingly beautiful, especially with golden first or last light shining on them. Topo maps and satellite images show a road up there that meanders along the top of the cliff. One of the local property owners, in an attempt to avoid contributing to road association fees, claimed he’d use that road to access his land — yes, his 20 acres does include the cliff face and a sliver of land on top. I’d been wanting to check out the road for at least a year and was looking forward to the drive up there.

Jumpoff Ridge Topo
A topo map shows the steep cliff on the north side of Jumpoff Ridge. The road we planned to drive is indicated by the double dashed line atop the cliff. The blue track line to the right of the sharp turn is the road I live on, which was built after USGS topo maps were published.

I knew how to get to the road we sought. Follow Joe Miller Road to Stemilt Loop Road and turn left at the church. Then follow that to Jumpoff Ridge Road. From there, it turns to improved gravel. It’s a moderately steep climb through ponderosa pine with tantalizing glimpses of the orchard-filled land in the Stemilt Hill and Wenatchee Heights areas below. There are about a dozen lots, some of them with homes on them, at the top of the road. One of them belongs to one of my charter clients and I’ve landed and departed with the helicopter from his yard at least a dozen times over the past two or three years.

At the top of Jumpoff Ridge, the topo map showed a 4-way intersection. But there was no left turn to the radio facility.

That’s also where the road splits. A left hand turn at my client’s house would take us to the road we sought, but the only left hand turn we saw looked like my client’s driveway. We could see the antennas — marked “Radio Facility” on the topo map — beyond and knew that’s where we needed to be. But there didn’t seem to be a way to drive through. So we went straight, looking for another left hand turn.

We found it a while later, but it was gated and locked. We kept going, passing under the Bonneville power lines and a handful of other homes. (When people say I live “out there,” they should come visit these people. They’re way out there.) Realizing the road was not likely to take us where we wanted to go, we turned back and had a closer look at that gate. It was securely locked with signs warning against trespassing. The road was strictly for communications company and power company use.

I guess my freeloading neighbor had no idea what he was talking about when he claimed he’d use that road to access his property. (Or, more likely, he was just a lying sack of sh*t.)

We stopped to consult the map I’d preloaded onto my phone’s Gaia GPS app. I’d already told Kirk about Clear Lake, where I’d stopped in November with my friend Don. It had been frozen hard that pre-winter day, after an early hard freeze. Don had bowled rocks across its surface just to hear the weird echoing sound as they bounced and slid. I thought it was a good alternative destination. The map showed a road off the southwest-bound powerline road (which was not gated) that would “shortcut” to it. It even had a name: Rock Ridge Road. We headed off to find it.

The road climbed steeply up a rocky slope and joined up with the Bonneville Power lines. It veered off into the forest and rejoined the powerlines. Then there was our right hand turn, right where the map said it would be. But there was also an “Authorized Vehicles Only” sign. Really? Ugh.

Faced with the choice of going back or taking the longer way around, we kept moving forward. The road was a lot longer than I remembered. It joined and left the powerlines several times, mostly climbing. There were tall pines, surprisingly green grass, and large meadows. I could easily imagine elk grazing there.

My 1999 Jeep Wrangler drove like a champ. I’ve owned this vehicle since new and, quite frankly, I don’t take very good care of it. In fact, I think it’s safe to say that I routinely beat the crap out of it. It had been flashing the Check Engine light on rough terrain on and off, coupled with a stuttering engine, for months.. Earlier in July I’d finally had it checked and fixed. Turned out to be a wiring harness damaged by rodents — a much cheaper fix than I’d been prepared for. This was a good practice run for our upcoming camping trip to Glacier National Park and I was glad to see it running so smoothly.

After miles of rough road, we finally found and made the right hand turn that would take us down off the ridge: Schaller Road, according to the map. It was rocky, rough, and full of switchbacks. That dumped us onto Upper Basin Loop Road. We caught a glimpse of a pickup truck turning onto a road up ahead — the first vehicle we’d seen in over an hour — and kept on straight until we reached the turn for Clear Lake.

At Clear Lake

Clear Lake is a small reservoir in the woods.

Clear Lake is a very small reservoir in the Stemilt Basin. It likely collects and stores water for one of the dozens of Stemilt cherry, apple, or pear orchards in the Stemilt Hill area. The road ends at a locked gate close to the lake. We parked and got out for a walk. Penny was very happy to get out of the Jeep, where she’d been riding on Kirk’s lap since our departure from home. There was no one around and it was peaceful.

The topo map showed another larger lake to the west, on the other side of the ridge: Lily Lake. Although our time was somewhat limited — Kirk had a meeting later that evening in Cashmere and the drive had already taken longer than planned — we set off to see if we could catch a glimpse of the other lake. Like me, Kirk has kayaks and we’re always interested in finding new destinations for a leisurely paddle.

Lean To in the Woods
We stumbled upon this old lean-to in the woods up the hill from Clear Lake.

We followed a trail and then a road and then a trail o the west side of the lake and started the climb up the ridge. Near the top, we found an old lean-to made with branches and the remains of a campsite. But not much else.

Ripening thimbleberries. While not as tasty as raspberries or blackberries, they do make a nice treat.

We dropped down and followed the road back to the southeast. There was another locked gate and we walked around it. That took us southwest on a road that small trees were already starting to reclaim. Thimbleberry bushes lined the road and Kirk and I picked and ate the reddest ones. A small creek roared in a steep but narrow canyon beside us. After about a quarter mile, the road dead-ended at a dam with a valve: the control for the underground pipeline that was filling Clear Lake from the creek. There was no road or trail beyond to Lily Lake.

Dam
A concrete dam in the forest formed a small pond where a buried pipeline fed Clear Lake. Water over the spillway fed the creek we heard in the ravine beside the road.

After snapping a few photographs, we headed back to where the Jeep waited. We’d visit Lily Lake another day from a road on the other side of the ridge that I’d already spotted on the map. There were other lakes up that way and it would make a good day trip for us, giving me the Jeep outing I wanted with the hiking Kirk preferred. Win-win.

Heading Home

The trip home was uneventful. It was less than a mile back to pavement from Clear Lake. Then back to the church and Joe Miller Road and, eventually, my road.

Kirk snacked on some cold pizza as we loaded up his car. He headed out for his meeting. I heated the rest of the pizza in the oven and snacked on it while unwinding from the bumpy trip, glad to have found an excellent traveling companion for future adventures.

Curious about our route? Click here to see it and all the photos I took.

Putting Away My Toys

Posted on July 13, 2014 by Maria Langer

Well, most of them, anyway.

July 4th was a big day for me. It marked one week after the concrete had been poured for the slab of my new home. That meant it was safe to drive on it.

But what that really meant to me was that I could move most of my vehicles back into covered parking.

Three of my four garage bays were cleared out and ready to accept vehicles. The fourth was my temporary dining area for entertaining dinner guests. I couldn’t really get a vehicle into that garage anyway because of the pile of scrap lumber out front, effectively blocking the entrance.

My Four-Car Garage
Here’s what the inside of my garage looked like on July 4. It’s a panoramic image; the only way I could shoot the whole thing.

Up for storage: my 1999 Jeep Wrangler, my 2003 Honda S2000, and my 1995 Searay Sea Rayder boat. My 2003 Ford F350 SuperDuty diesel truck would have to wait outdoors.

I backed them all in and took a photo before closing and locking the doors.

Toys Stowed
This might explain why I wanted a 4-car garage.

Later in the week, I parked my 1992 Yamaha Seca II motorcycle between the boat and the table and my 1999 Yamaha Grizzly ATV between the Jeep and the Honda. eventually, they’ll be moved into the RV garage where they’ll be easier to get out when needed.

(None of my vehicles are new, but I like to think they’re in decent shape. And they’re all paid for, which is more than most people can say about the flashy new vehicles that are part of their credit-driven lifestyles.)

After more than 10 years living with my vehicles scattered all over the place or parked out in the hot sun, it’s nice to finally have them all under one roof.

An Eclectic Mind

Web site and blog for Maria Langer, writer, video producer, jewelry artist, boat captain, and helicopter pilot. Blogging since 2004.

Tag Archives: driving