Back in the City by the Bay

The final stop of the trip was at one of our favorite spots in California, Chet & Marty's cabin in Meek's Bay. Driving up over the pass into South Lake Tahoe, the reality of our "summer" road trip coming to an end began to set in as the first snowfall of winter blanketed the road. We raced towards Emerald Bay and were happy to see that Caltrans hadn't declared highway 89 impassable yet. We arrived at sunset and the cabin was just as perfect as it always is. The dog nestled into the fresh snow outside and we torched a huge fire in the stone fireplace. We put our feet up and relaxed as warmth overtook the cozy little log cabin.

After an amazing final weekend, we packed up and hit the road one last time. Interstate 80 proved to be an immediate challenge as we were not used to so many cars--all driving like they had somewhere to be yesterday. We zig-zagged through traffic until the sweet smell of bay air filled the van. We got our first view of the San Francisco skyline and our conversation dwindled as we headed over the bay bridge with big smiles on our faces. We were finally home after 102 days and over 17,000 miles on the road.

Excited to be home, we took Sierra to his favorite place on earth, Crissy Field, and let him romp through the giant grassy knoll. Then, we made way to the Mission for dinner at La Taqueria, SF's finest taco-slinging establishment. With bellies full of sweet Mexican goodness, we made rounds through the city saying hello to friends and family that we hadn't seen in months. The wine and conversation lasted until the early morning and we quickly found ourselves too tired to unpack our gear. This proved to be the wrong decision as we woke up the next morning to our side window broken and the van ransacked. The thieves had a field day with Eeyore and filled their pockets with most everything that we had learned to live with for the last three and a half months.

Lesson learned = car thieves are dicks!

Hot to Cold in a Hurry

We arrived to Joshua Tree National Park at sundown and were shocked to find the place so empty. After fighting the crowds at some of the country’s most popular parks, we simply couldn't believe that there was only one other group in the entire campground. To give you an idea how few people were there, when Brooks got up to take his 4am leak, he didn’t even bother putting clothes on. Standing outside, stark naked, he proceeded to wake Nathalie up just so she knew that he was naked inside a national park and there wasn’t anything that anyone could do about it.

The following morning the crowds were still absent and we took advantage of it by giving Sierra the green light to come and hike the trails with us. We're pretty sure he wasn't aloud, but it was better than coming back to a baked dog. Either way, we all got to enjoy trolling the teddy bear cholla garden and walking under the parks famed giant yuccas. As quickly as we arrived, we departed and made way up the eastern side of the Sierras, over Tioga Pass, and down into the Yosemite Valley.

Our time in Yosemite started off with a bang (literally) as a 6:40am rockfall rumbled the valley and squashed a handful of cabins in Curry Village. The ground shook Eeyore's wheels and the sound waves caused the tent walls to flutter. It was an incredible thunder that lasted for two minutes and guaranteed everyone was awake. As a result, Curry Village closed for the day and sent many hikers out in their pajamas.

We hiked the entire valley floor from Bridal Veil falls to Mirror Lake, a 15-mile loop that we decided, for some reason, to do without water. We couldn't help but lick our lips as Sierra slurped gallon after gallon out of the Merced River. We peaked over Glacier Point and then watched many climbers scramble up the face of El Capitan as we relaxed in the meadow below. Spending three cold nights in the park proved to be the perfect remedy to bring the dog back to life after panting in the dry desert heat.

Spoiled Rotten in Phoenix

Lucky for the whole family (especially the dog), the weather gods cooperated and Phoenix was a frigid 85 instead of the 100+ that it’s capable of this time of year. We spent the weekend swilling fine wine and eating great food in the good company of Suzy (Brooks’ aunt) and Judy (Nat’s sister’s mother-in-law). It was a small miracle that the two of them didn’t convince us to live out the winter months in the desert. We had a fantastic time there and forgot all about living in a van until we crossed the border into California and that reality quickly settled back in…

Raising Arizona

After an eventful family gathering in Zion, we bid farewell to Ale and Dad and pulled out the maps to chart out our next stop. To our delight, our GPS coordinates put us just north of Grand Central Polygamyville, the towns of Hilldale and Colorado City. Warren Jeffs put these two interesting communities and their “religious” beliefs on everyone’s radar with his arrest back in 2006. We had hoped to give Sierra the opportunity to live out his golden years with nine wives, but couldn’t find him a polygamous dog that had wandered outside any of the walled compounds to start his harem. A little disappointed, we settled for lunch at the Merry Wives Café and a few solid afternoon hours of some amazing people watching.

We drown most of the daylight hours idling the dusty streets at the Utah/Arizona border and feeling oddly out of place. However, we did make it to the north rim of the Grand Canyon just as the sun was settling on the horizon. At 9000 feet, the alpine forest was thick, the air was cool and the views down into that giant hole were spectacular. The following night, after a 200 mile drive, we camped just 10 miles away (as the crow flies) on the south rim.

With a couple route options south of the Grand Canyon, we were easily lured towards Sedona as Judy (Nathalie’s sister’s mother-in-law) offered us a night in her creek-side cabin. Winding down Oak Creek Canyon towards Sedona, we quickly fell in love with the place that was recently voted (by Conde Nast) the most beautiful place in America.

Once in town, we stopped at a tourist booth for directions and left with reservations to attend a time-share lecture. Not exactly what we were looking to do, but once we figured out what the guy was talking about, it was too late and he had already signed us up. Luckily, we were able to turn down the hard sell and left our lecture with a wad of cash for wasting everyone’s time. Instead of saving our new-found wealth for gas, we immediately headed for the nicest restaurant in Sedona (L’Auberge) and blew our wad (and then some!) on an incredible meal that will never be ousted from our lifetime’s top ten list.

Along the Utah National Park Highway

Leaving Arches, we drove a stretch of road that would treat us to five National Parks in less than six hundred miles. First up was the needles district of Canyonlands. The short detour off highway 191 into the park turned out to be a long one. The endless canyon was out of this world, but a long series of cattle guards and an extra long wait for some road work to be completed in the hot afternoon sun broke Sierra. He officially lost his marbles and wanted nothing to do with the van as he paced back and forth like a caged animal. Nathalie gave up her front seat and we tried many new arrangements to ease his anxious mind. None seemed to work.

Fortunately, we found a sweet campsite in Glen Canyon, just above the Colorado River and Sierra made it until morning as he relaxed in the dirt and stained his white pelt brick red. He rebounded slightly the next day, but we didn't want to test his fragile state by sightseeing too much in Capitol Reef National Park.

We continued on to Bryce Canyon and managed to do some short hikes into the bowels of the canyon under the famous Thor's Hammer. Bryce's amphitheater of awkwardly sculptured rock spires, or hoodoos, radiate warm yellows and oranges at all hours. It was impressive to see such a drastic change in the landscape after traveling such a short distance.

Last, but not least, we made it to Zion and were greeted by Brooks' dad and sister. It was great to see family and to have them experience life in the van. They gave us a taste of the high life that we left back in the bay area three months ago. We ate and drank like kings and queens and worked off our full bellies each day on Zion's network of trails. The highlight was was slogging back into the narrows. Hiking up the river the canyon walls are 2000 feet high, but in places only 18 feet apart.

Red Rock Playground

Through the center of the Mormon universe, Salt Lake City, we made our way east again to Arches National Park. With one campground inside the park and only 24 total first-come/first-serve sites, Brooks was in line at 4am to secure a spot in the Devil’s Garden. The early morning wake-up call proved to be one of the best choices we’ve made on our trip. Not only did we meet half the campground in line, but we also got the opportunity to pitch our tent amongst the red rock and under the brightest stars imaginable.

Arches might have just set the new standard for National Parks? It’s a photographer’s paradise. At any time of any day you can swivel your head in any direction and see something uniquely beautiful. We hit the famous Delicate Arch for sunset and watched the classic cowboy chaps glow a golden red in the low sun. We watched the sun rise at the Landscape Arch and wondered how its slender long arch has defied gravity for so long.

Ironically, we hiked through the Fiery Furnace at mid-day to avoid the hot afternoon sun. It’s a trail-less maze of towering sandstone needles where the giant red walls close in over your head. We crawled and squeezed through cracks less than 12 inches wide that opened up entirely new labyrinths to explore on the other side. Curiosity lured us deeper into the furnace as you always wanted to know what lay behind the next turn.

We had an amazing time in the Moab area. We hiked our hearts content and Hairy relaxed in Karen's Canine Campground. He played so hard with his new best friend, a one year old border collie, that we had to pry him out of his air conditioned cabin when we picked him up. Our final night in Arches, he slept from 8pm until 10am without even readjusting his position

An Hour in Idaho

Trying to outrun the storm that was crashing down on Jackson Hole, we hit Highway 89 and made way for Utah. The silver dollar-sized rain drops stopped and we poked out ahead of the rain clouds at Bear Lake, the part of Idaho that turns into Utah in the blink of the eye. This lakeside cottage almost crumbled as the sun-soaked cloud exploded with color behind it.

The Great Parks

The northwest corner of Wyoming is home to two of the oldest and most well known National parks around, Yellowstone and Teton. Up and over Granite Pass and down through the winding red canyon of the Big Horn National Wilderness, we arrived at the Eastern entrance to Yellowstone. We thought our mid-September arrival would mean fewer crowds, but as soon as we hit Yellowstone Lake, without even noticing, we had inadvertently joined a large caravan of RVs and other slow moving passenger vehicles.

We spent three days in the park jumping from geysers to hot springs to rivers to lakes. Up the continental divide and back down into a deep canyon. There’s not another place like it in the world. The colors of the geyser basins, bubbling mud pits and steaming ground make you feel like you’re on a different planet.

We fished, but the Yellowstone trout proved to smart for our woven flies. We woke up before the sun to see a wolf pack nibbling on an elk carcass, but they were too stubborn to come out for us. We hurried to Old Faithful, but searched too long for a shady parking spot for the dog and missed the eruption. Good thing it’s the only predictable schedule in the park and we returned an hour later to see the next go ‘round.

South to the Tetons, the mountains glistened in the warm sun which provided a splendid back drop for our first lunch there. However, looming thunderstorms later played tricks on the majestic peaks. As the wind picked up, dark clouds swirled around the mountain tops and lingered just long enough to provide some heavy contrast to the setting sun.

Camped at Signal Mountain, we woke up before the sun again and it proved to be a good decision this time. Dodging herds of giant elk in the weak morning light, we made it to a crusty old barn just before the Tetons disappeared behind the clouds for the rest of the day…

Cabin Fever

Sierra came down with a serious case of cabin fever over the past week. No matter how much time he got to spend outside the van, he never wanted to come back in. We had to bribe him with cheese and jerky to make the leap of faith back into his seat. He was visibly disgruntled and often times he would just stare at the door in hopes that it would fly open as we drove. He also bullied his way into the front seat, so he could share Nathalie's window.

As a result, we did something that we should have done a long time ago. We ripped out the screen window in the back and cleared off the rear facing seat so he could get a taste of the good life without having to sit on one of our laps. As you can see, the dog is happy again and back to his old self. Hopefully it lasts until California.

The Best Detour

Having heard little about the state, South Dakota had a good chance at exceeding our expectations from the moment we arrived. However, even if we had high hopes, the Mt. Rushmore State would have over delivered on anything that any guide book or brochure had promised. We came to see some old presidents carved into a mountain, and found a slice of country that is almost unmatched. In the south western corner we visited, there is so much to see, it’s a hard place to leave.

After watching the sunrise upon the colossal faces of Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt and Lincoln, we traveled through the Black Hills and gazed at the massive boulders that seem to shoot straight up out of the forest. We took the twisted highway 16 through Custer State Park, known for its coiled wooden “pigtail” bridges and skinny tunnels that pierce through some giant slabs of granite.
We spent a day in Wind Cave National Park, featuring 129 miles of cave cramped under only one square mile of earth. The cave has only one natural entrance that the average American definitely would not fit through. We explored just two miles of Wind Cave and reached a depth of over 200 feet. Although the park is known for its vast underground network, the surface is also spectacular. Bison, pronghorn antelope, white tail deer and prairie dogs roamed the grasslands by the hundreds.
We capped off our time in South Dakota with Badlands National Park, where a hundred miles of South Dakota’s dry plains is abruptly interrupted by fantastic pinnacles and deep canyons of colorful petrified rock. Leaving the state, we were treated to an incredible sunset to the west and a full moon rising into the dark blue sky to the east.

Looks like Wyoming will have some big shoes to fill…

South Dakota Ladies Man

We've arrived in South Dakota, the sun is shinning and George is looking as handsome as ever. As Washington stared off in the distance, Nathalie tried to steal a kiss. Not sure if our first president was too happy about it?

Now, we're going to check out his other three buddies (Tom, Theo & Abe) and then venture off through the Black Hills into the Badlands...

Across Montana to Familiar Faces

From Missoula to Billings we drove straight through the heart of the 100 years storm. It rained so hard and was so dark, we were more than relieved to arrive at the home of our cousins, Cabeto & Amber, before our windshield wipers flew off.

We enjoyed two nights in Billings and the kind hospitality of family. Cabeto's mom, Charo, was visiting from Peru as well, which made for the perfect reunion. We watched Adriana inch towards her first steps just as Cabeto cast his first fly into Rock Creek.

In all, it was great to catch up, but tough to pull away from good company and a warm bed. Sierra was also sad to leave his new pal Cuzco and the comforts of a large back yard behind. We packed up, kissed Montana good-bye and drove off towards South Dakota.

The Albatross & The Jackpot

Our arrival in Missoula, Montana sparked a series of memorable events for us. A surprise visit to Boomers (our friend James' bar) paid immediate dividends with Nathalie rolling a Yahtzee to win the $486 jackpot. The beer flowed like wine and the two of us over-indulged in Pabst Blue Ribbon, mozzarella sticks and buffalo wings. That made the brain a little slow to react when the following morning we woke up to a vagrant stealing our flip-flops and Sierra getting a ticket for being off-leash.

An afternoon round of golf seemed to be a good idea for Brooks to pass his first hangover in months. The round itself wasn't brilliant, but the 515 yard 16th hole sure was. A 314 yard drive and a 201 yard 4-iron granted Brooks his first ever albatross. A two on a par 5, in his new par of lucky flip-flops and not so fancy rental clubs. His emotional high was short lived, however, as he scored a 6 on the par 3 17th hole and returned to his regular form.

Back in the Mother Country

We've bid farewell to our friendly neighbors from the North and rolled back into the lower 48. Celebrating our homecoming, we drove up and over Going to the Sun Road and nestled into the heart of Glacier National Park .

With Montana's endless supply of rivers and lakes, we quickly replaced our daily hikes with fishing. It wasn't long before Nathalie landed the trip's trophy fish at Rainy Lake, a two plus pound cut-throat trout with brilliant rainbow colors that glistened in the first sun we've seen in weeks. Photographic evidence of this catch was denied as Brooks reached for the frying pan instead of the camera and Nathalie hurried to let the big guy swim free. This brief altercation put Hairy and Brooks in a foul mood for the rest of the morning. They got no fish and an earful of "Nathalie is a great fisherwoman" all the way to Missoula.

Since being back in the lower 48 always seemed so far away, we never actually picked up a map and nailed down a route south. Such indecisiveness resulted in another detour from the journey we envisioned. Looks like we're headed to South Dakota now...

We've posted more pics to the end of our Canada album and started a Montana album. Check them out by clicking here.

Backcountry Hiking

The weather man predicted a low of 21 and a high of 50 with a combination of rain and snow. That forecast was for the town of Field, B.C. (over 2000 ft. below where Brooks and Sierra were camping for three days). We got our first two snow falls of the summer and a nice dusting of freezing rain. In all, we logged over 35 miles of back country trails in three days and got to spend some quality daddy/doggy time along the way.

In hindsight, Brooks made only one costly mistake during their time on the trail. Against his instincts, he decided to carry 10 hot dogs and two pounds of beef jerky for Sierra in lieu of his normal dog food. That lapse in good judgement, resulted in the dog having the worst gas of all time. And to make matters worse, Sierra broke trail every day and occupied half of the duo's small tent each night. On the bright side, maybe it kept the bears away at least?

Jasper & Banff

Clearly, we saved some of Canada's finest for last. Even with an undesirable weather front upon us, both Jasper & Banff teed up some amazing scenery that shined right through the often overcast and rainy horizons. From the vast Columbia Ice field to the incredibly blue water of Lake Louise, we were both very glad to have sped through the last section to make more time to enjoy ourselves here.

Sierra was pretty excited too as he found out that he was aloud to set his paws in every inch of the parks' back country except a few sections in Jasper where the caribou roam. Hiking again became a huge part of our daily life and the whole family got to enjoy it. Each night, we torched some of the biggest campfires ever to keep warm and Brooks never got tired of chopping the endless supply of wood. The only downside was that we were soon overwhelmed with too many beautiful side trips to choose from.

A dip in the Banff hot springs brought some life back to our legs. However, upon entering the hot pools, we quickly found out there weren't many others that had opted to sport the old school suits...

For the long weekend, Nathalie has returned home for Lara's bachlorette party and Brooks and Sierra are headed to the neighboring Yoho National Park, for a four day back country trek.

Step on it Gramps!

At some point of almost every day, Brooks hears these magic words from his beloved co-pilot, "Step on it gramps!". Well, with a stretch of terrible weather ahead and some familiar terrain, Nathalie finally got what she's been wishing for. Up and over the Top of the World Highway, a ferry ride across the Yukon river to Dawson City and a scenic Highway 2 brought us back to Whitehorse and the stretch of tarmac that we drove on our way North. The windshield got used to the continuous spatter of rain drops and we got used to driving some long stints to keep dry.

We drove the Cassiar Highway again and returned to Alaska's friendliest ghost town, Hyder. This time around, we didn't get skunked at Fish Creek. We saw four grizzlies fishing for some tired chum salmon and some playful ermin (small weasel-esq ferret-like critters) wrestling in the rock beds.

After Hyder, we punched it like Chewy at the wheel of the Millennium Falcon in Empire Strikes Back and whizzed over to Alberta and the much anticipated Jasper & Banff National Parks. We'll spend four days in the parks before heading to Calgary so Nathalie can fly home to celebrate Lara's last hoorah as a single girl.

Wildlife Crossing

As we were heading North to the Top of the World Highway, the portal to Dawson City and the Yukon Territory, we couldn't help but be a little sad that our time in Alaska was running out. Driving late in the evening, we started talking about how we were going to miss seeing Alaska's abundant wildlife on a daily basis. Nathalie clearly had given up as her lead foot made Eeyore whistle down the highway at a non-optimal animal viewing speed.

Just as our spirits were getting low, we were treated to another close encounter with a fox. This time, it was the red arctic fox. Nat, pleased with one final wildlife sighting, floored it again and reached near maximum speed just in time to hit the brakes again for the big cat in the middle of the road, the elusive lynx.

After learning in Denali that a lynx often runs away and then circles back to check you out, we got out of the van and tracked him down in the tall grass. As camouflaged as he was, we did manage to get a few pics and some video footage of the rare creature. Nathalie could hardly wait to watch her cinematography and made Brooks steer while she pulled out the video camera, simultaneously working the pedals. As Brooks watched the road and Nathalie watched the small LCD screen, a moose and its kid darted out ahead of us and we nearly had a freezer full of moose meat for the winter... Not a bad last hoorah for The Last Frontier.

Wrangell-St. Elias National Park

Another bumpy dusty road took us into Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and the towns of McCarthy and Kennecott. The park itself is North America's biggest at 13.2 million acres. It dwarfs it's neighbor (Denali N.P.) in a big way which only has a measly 6 million acres, slightly larger than Massachusetts.

Camped at the base of the Root Glacier, we hiked up to Kennecott. A lucrative old copper mine that would probably still be in business today if getting the metal out wasn't such a pricey chore. Instead, the mine is closed and the mill is falling down, but the town's rich colors paint a pretty clear picture of how lively the town must have been in the early 1900s. Working or not, exploring the intricate rail system and tram cables that stretched 4000 feet above to the actual mine was fascinating.

Another highlight of St. Elias was watching Sierra conquer a ten year old fear of walking on a see-through grated bridge. He had no choice but to cross the foot bridge on the Kennicott river each day we were there. We can't say he ever really enjoyed it, but he did it. Nice work Hairy!

No Regrets in Valdez

The last time we were in Valdez, it was cold and raining sideways which made kayaking through the Prince William Sound and the ice bergs of the Columbia Glacier seem a little less than spectacular. So, we came back and we brought the sun with us.

We had an amazing day on the Sound as we paddled through the ever-shifting ice bergs and watched in awe as the enormous hunks of ice floated and flipped passed us with the tide.

Chasing down sea otters and getting a close look at a pod of orcas was the icing on the cake. It proved, beyond a reasonable doubt, that we made the right choice coming back here.

Following in the footsteps of Joseph Hazlewood, captain of the Exxon Valdez, we turned out the lights on Valdez with a scotch on the rocks at The Pipeline Club, the city's favorite drinkery.

Denali Highway Birthday

After leaving Denali, we decided to try our luck on the Denali Highway--The main artery to the park prior to the completion of the Parks Highway (Anchorage to Fairbanks) in 1971. It's a 135-mile dirt road through some rugged country, but the beautiful landscapes heavily outweigh its wash board and pot-holed surface.

Our route was immediately rewarded with our arrival at The Sluice Box at mile post 88. Outside the bar, a sign hung around the gas pump reading "If you need service, HONK". We did, and five minutes later the bartender showed up on a four wheeler, opened the bar and poured Brooks his birthday brew. The fine Alaskan Summer Ale slid down real nice and we toasted to 32 great years.