About hennacornoelidays

Our family loves to travel, camp, and basically go trapsing across this land. We also love to share our stories as well as our favorite picks for adventures. In 2015 Hennacornoelidays Press published the first of what will hopefully be many travel guides. Check it out!

Dispatches From Home


Today was a low day. The start of Week two essentially and all I could think was, “ok, here we go again”. Like, when things are new and unfamiliar you have that to ride on during the beginning….then things level to a weird new normal. When that is over you’re left with-reality. This is really happening kinda reality. The, I don’t see the end, reality. And when that hits, it hurts. Or at least that was where I was mentally at today.

Interspersed among these moments of heaviness there were bright spots too. Sewing masks for people in need with Henna was definitely a bright spot. Watching her create and use her hands for good filled me up. Seeing the sunshine fill my kitchen also did some good chasing my blues away. And FaceTiming my sister reminded me of all the love out there waiting to scoop me up once we can be together again.

So much good. It’s still there but every now and then it’s easy to lose sight. Tomorrow’s another day. I hope you all find highs within the lows.


Dispatch from…..close to home.

Hello again. I found posting very cathartic yesterday. I hope that it brought you something, if anything a moment outside of this insanity.

Today, Noel and I did some “normal” kind of activities. A Donation drop off, a walk through the forest preserve and a Kappy’s Matza Ball pickup. All activities were in the same vain of trying to continue to do some good through all of this; both for others, a fav business of ours and ourselves.

Although today was cold, gloomy and windy-there were quite a few faces on the trail. It made me wonder what a warm day would bring? Would that be safe? There would be so many more people making hard to keep a safe distance from one another! As my brain ratcheted up a notch, I looked down at my red knitted glove my Mom had given Henna one Xmas a few years ago. Deep breath it beckoned me. Ok Ma, I got it.

I then looked up to see an old couple walking along-heads down, trying to pass quickly perhaps to limit our exposure to them. We met eyes, and I took both my red knitted hands and gave a two handed wave. The huge smile that then greeted me took all my anxiety away. This isn’t a post to try to say anything profound or inspiring, but damn I wanted to hug that old guy. For the rest of our walk, I continued to wave my silly red knitted wave and found most people smiled in happiness. A small gesture saying, “hey, I see you. This is totally insane. But hi”. It gave me some peace. Thanks Mom:)

Fare thee well,


Dispatches From Home

When this blog was created, so long ago now, I never could have imagined a post like this one.  You all are aware that this post is not being written from some far away destination atop a chilly mountain, smelling of wonderful tree smells, with my shelter waiting for night fall.  No. I haven’t escaped to Yosemite National Park to wait out this horrible nightmare.  This post is being written exactly where all of you are, or should be, at home.  Where I have been now for 7 days.  Long days.  With little or no sun.

We are all aware of the surreal nature of this situation. The details that bombard us daily; the facts, the death toll, the flattening of the curve, the toilet paper wars, the empty shelves, the cancelling of just about everything we hold dear, the online concerts, the social distancing, the bizarre messages from Trump,  and the humanity in staying home to protect others.  It’s fucking crazy.  Insane. Disappointing.  We never could have ever predicted this would happen in our life time.  There will be stories someday to fill a whole library.  And we will have said we were there.  Watching from inside our windows, or screens, waiting for this to subside.

During all of this, I have reached out to many of you.  Being connected has never felt so amazingly good to me.  I quick “hello”, or “what’s up”, or a Face Time session with dear friends to share a drink and chat.  All so good.  The one piece missing, that can bring me to my knees, is not having my mom to call.  Don’t get me wrong.  It would have been horrible to worry about her during this time.  She would have been at the top of the compromised list.  My worry would have run deep.  Her loneliness would have pushed me to the edge daily.  But I can’t help but wonder what her take on all this would have been.  She was funny that way.  Hard to predict which angle she would come from.  It’s one of the things I loved so much about her.   But a constant mantra of advice from her throughout my life was,  “Corey, you just can’t worry.  You have to live your life”.  Even if I knew something troubled her, she would repeat that sentiment.  You just can’t worry. Does no good.

So although all I want to do is worry; hide away inside my covers, and freak out about my loved ones, what will happen, will there be enough, will Henna have friends to reach out to, will we kill each other, will this ever end???  I will take a deep breath and remember her words and try to live by them.  It helps.  She was right.  It does no good to worry.  But it does do good to act; get up and live life, take a shower, form a routine, call a friend,  Face Time with loved ones, read a book, and yes, plan for the future.  That helps more than the worry.

So if you haven’t heard from me, know that I’m thinking about you.  I hope you are in your home doing your thing, with loved ones, doing what you can.  That’s all we can do.  And when you see a photo of a bunch of young folks on a beach in Florida, not thinking about the right thing, know that I too am at home, shouting at the screen, wishing each one of them would get stung by a stingray.  That helps too.

Stay safe friends.

Fare thee well,





Stronger Part 2

The trail to Bertha Lake

The Waterton Lakes National Park Townsite came pretty darn close to being burned to the ground. The only thing saving the park were the thousands of heroic firefighters who worked 24 hour shifts. Despite these efforts, a large campground in the main part of the park and several roads leading from the center of the park were destroyed. The fire also came frightenly close to burning down the historic Prince of Wales hotel. This all occurred during the sleepy part of the summer season (September, 2016) with the entire park evacuated over the course of just one day. It is not hard at all to imagine a scenario where hundreds or maybe even thousands of people were killed while trying to escape via the one narrow road that leads in and out of the park.

Because of the fire, wildflowers bloomed like crazy on the trail

I think of this now while typing at my kitchen table with the AC going and a hundred degree heat outside. Sometimes we go through hard things. Switchbacks are a bitch and you cannot always sense the bear around the corner. But we persevere. We go up. And we become stronger.

The small dot is Henna swimming in Lake Bertha.

Old Man Noel

Sunset at Badlands National Park

This was the summer Corey and Henna started to call me Old Man Noel. As in “Old Man Noel doesn’t like it when people travel without maps.” And of couse they say this in an exagerated grumpy old man voice. Boy do I love that.

Henna at Bertha Lake

Truth is that Corey and I have spent 21 years summer road tripping (16 for Henna). Some things have changed for the better (I do not miss calling cards) but other things have just changed. But enough stays the same (like the crazy fact that in every trip there comes the point where the laundry bag is actually greater than the sum of all the clothes actually brought on the trip) to know we are pretty darn lucky to be able to criss-cross over this continent year after year. And there are no two other people I would ever want to travel with (although maybe I wish they had a better nickname for me).

Cycling at Waterton Lakes National Park (Alberta)


After spending the weekend in Glacier National Park (first at a KOA then the historic Many Glacier Lodge) we came back to what is maybe our second favorite place other than home. Waterton Lakes National Park.

Skipping rocks at Swift Current Lake

What we did not know; in September 2017 a massive wild fire nearly wiped out the whole park. They are still rebuilding and so many of the places we love are not accessible. This includes one of the two campgrounds, Cameron Lake, the road to Red Rock Canyon, and the Bear Hump Hike. Wieners of Waterton though survived as well as the historic movie theater.

So we are bummed. And camping way too far from our car (for some reason they decided to take this time to renovate the sole campground and it is a mess). But we know Waterton will rebuild stronger than ever.

Drive from Many Glacier to Waterton

We Are So Old That Now Even Our Trips Can Drink

View from hotel window on July 4th, 2019 (Bozeman, MT)

After 9 nights of camping we take a break from sleeping on the ground to celebrate the 4th in Bozeman. Population about 40,000, Bozeman is another mountain college town (and another blue dot in a mostly red state). The views are grand, the local breweries (and kambucha makers) are many, and the place definitely has that special feel that makes you want to come back even before you leave.

At Norris Geyser

We left the always chill Signal Mountain Campground like hotel guests trying to skip out on the bill. 4:50 AM! That is the time we woke up to begin packing away the tent in order to hit the road before 5:30 to make it to the Norris Campground in Yellowstone to then stand in a line through a bit of hail for about an hour to then camp in the same area that Corey and I did 21 years ago on our first trip. Was it all worth it? Hell yeah.

Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone

So we rode horses, dodged rain drops, and did our best not to get eaten by a Grizzly. The horses were something Corey and Henna really wanted to do. As for me, well I was just happy not to fall off. But it was fun sitting on a walking horse that made 3 miles in about an hour with three cowhands making sure no one got hurt. Honestly it made us kind of cocky and now we have a shared fantasy of riding the range (with of course the same three cowhands keeping us safe and never going faster than 3 MPH).

A couple of tents and one kid later we again camp alongside the beautiful Gibbon River at the Norris Campground

Ramblings from my campsite

Hej! from the Tetons,

WiFi is very spotty in these mountains, which, believe me has been great. The WiFi spot is near the general store, and it can get crowded here while everyone checks in with their respected worlds they “left” behind for this moment in time. But a world without distractions can leave room for….many thoughts, scenarios, pondering, musings and the such.

This years residence in the Tetons has been wonderful-but man oh man the mosquitoes have been a beast. Forget about the black or grizzly bear, it’s the damn bugs that have made us insane. Which has led me to today’s ramble. I always praised myself as a healthy Momma to Henna. I always chose organic foods, went the less toxic route with cleaning products trying to limit her exposure at an early age (the time I had some control of what entered her body). Among the list of items I banned were suntan lotions with chemicals (which left us looking like we had white war paint on) and bug spray containing Deet. As regular campers you may wonder how I accomplished this feat? Well, I’ve tried various oils, wrist bans, long shirts, smoke from the camp fire and cursing. Luckily, we haven’t had too much trouble throughout the years-but when we have it’s been rough. And to top it all off, these pests love Henna. LOVE her. And she doesn’t just get bit. She reacts with massive swells. One year she woke up with a huge swollen eye, like she had been part of a bar fight the night before. We happened to be in Canada at the time and had to tell her to not joke about getting a beating while going through border crossing. Anyway, I digress. Back to the present. Henna was having a horrible time here. Her mood was rough. She was sullen and one night said she wanted to just go to bed so she wouldn’t have to be awake any longer (fighting bugs). Ugh. That was the worst. So the next day, I urged her and Noel to buy bug spray. I have often done that over the last few years, urged them to buy it. Use the stuff….my reign of control was over. But they never would. But last night they finally did. They sprayed themselves and their clothes. They walked around in a Deet mist……and guess what? My Happy Henna emerged. She was amazed how the bugs flew away from her. Oh the power she now had. She was elated. But she would comment every now and then about how she felt guilt using it, or it made her feel like she’d done something wrong. Holy crap. I hoNestly had unknowingly brain washed her. Our kids are always listening, watching and taking in our every move and belief. It’s a crazy power we have. I’ve always wanted her to have her own ideas and beliefs on everything, but we’ve shaped her for Better or worse. Of course she’ll go into the world with this first foundation and build upon it. I know that. But as she turns 16 I wonder and to be honest worry what other “ideas” I’ve inadvertently instilled in her. Hmm. Things you don’t ponder while at home with Netflix to sidetrack you. Oh well. My favorite saying is “you can’t go back, only forward”. So, I’m moving forward…..especially as both Noel and Henna are awaiting me to take a hike.


carpenter ants at work. We’ve been watching this over the last few days with wonder. Not missing Netflix at all……well maybe Fleabag just a little.

Lord of The Flies Part 2

They had Derek on the run. With sharpened sticks and a blood curling yell they chased him into the woods and past our campsite. Tired of watching this crap go on, I grabbed a flashlight and walked toward the mob. And just like that a dozen ten year old boys scattered in mock terror.

Chilling at Gros Ventre Campground

The boy scout troop camped next to us really sucked. Picture, I don’t know, maybe 3000 ten to twelve year old boys and one well meaning but absolutely inept dad. They cut down live branches, ran recklessly through the campground, were way too close to a ledge, and chased a poor buck around. The kids went to bed way too late (and way too loud) then were up at the crack of dawn mostly to yell at one another. And for some reason they were out to get Derek and thought it was a good idea to threaten him with spears.

Sunset at Gros Ventre (above) and Signal Mountain (below)

By noon they left and Signal Mountain Campground reverted back to its peaceful, calm self. And then they returned back to get Derek.

Just kidding.