Strathcona Provincial Park

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The “before” picture

Just like last year, we visited family and are treated to a royal feast. This time it was salmon caught by Corey’s second cousin Phillip (who we’ve never met) and grilled up by his brother David who, along with his daughter Mariah, we are lucky to know quite well. As amazing as the seafood was, so were the potato and kale salads brought by Pam, Dan, Susan, and Mike. Our Ladysmith cousins sure do know how to make us feel at home.

The next day we wolfed down the leftovers right before exploring Strathcona Provincial Park with David and Mariah. Located a few hours north of Victoria, Strathcona offers up some of the most rugged landscape on Vancouver Island. After four and a half hours of hiking through a fern draped wonderland that included an impressive beaver dam and a whole lot of hanging moss, we set up camp a few kilometers shy of Landslide Lake. We then spent the next day contemplating the lake while Mariah caught two good sized trout with cheddar flavored meal worms (a souvenir from Victoria’s Bug Zoo and they actually do not taste half bad). The first we fried up on a small skillet with Mariah letting the second one go. Day three was a long hike back to the car and then a hauntingly desolate ride up to Port Hardy. Three showers later we are toasty and maybe a bit nervous about the road ahead. A lot of people asked us before we left how long it would take to get to Alaska. Well, we almost have an answer. Tomorrow we land in Prince Rupert, B.C. and then the next day we cross into Alaska. So far it has been one heck of a trip.

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Noel and Henna struggle to land a fish.

Mariah shows how it is done

Mariah shows us how it’s done.

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At Landslide Lake. 10 KM hike; 600 meter elevation gain but only a few switch backs. Trail a little difficult to follow the final kilometer. 2 campsite, one at 6 KM and the other at 9 KM. The second one is worth the longer hike.

Along the Waterfront: Victoria, B.C.

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Victoria may have the highest busker per person ratio in North America (aggressive ones too, just try walking away without giving up a few loonies). They also boast an incredibly high number of sidewalk vendors hawking everything from assembly line made miniature totem poles to delicately carved jade figurines. One of the most compelling vendor we met was artist Peter Robertson whose intricate ink drawings are a free flowing association game linking iconic rock stars with numbers, shamanistic imagery, and other artists. For example, his work “All Along the Watchtower” features songwriter Bob Dylan and Jim Hendrix along with a headshot of William Shakespeare, a couple of dates, a few numbers, butterflies, and other seemingly unrelated images. Ask Robertson what it all means, however, and he will walk you through his work until every symbol loops back to what he calls his “quasi-theme.” It is a dizzying process that maybe offers a tad of insight into the sprawling chaos of the universe. This may not be for everyone, but like the brilliant artists Robertson celebrates he does not care much about being popular. Robertson’s art is available as a framed work as well as a silkscreened t-shirt. To check out some of his work, click here or check him out at his booth located in the Inner Harbour.

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Artist Peter Robertson at his booth in Victoria’s Inner Harbour

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One of the many very cool shops in Victoria’s Fan Tan Alley

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Even in Victoria our friends in Edison Park manage to make our day by buying us ice-cream (they did so the day before while on an Alaskan cruise).

Your Safety Cannot Be Guranteed

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Hiking to the Granite Chalet (GNP)

Ryan, a large, tatted up man, flew to Seattle to bike home to Rochester, New York. We met him shirtless and laying on a boat dock, a cold drink by his side. As Henna was about to cannonball into Lake McDonald, I asked her not to splash anyone. Ryan said not to worry, he had just come out of the water and besides, it’s a public place.

Got to talking to Ryan and he told me about his bike ride and his double majors. Ryan also said, at the risk of sounding too much like a hippie (and to that I replied, if you cannot sound like a hippie while biking across America, when can you?), that we all need to shut off our televisions and just talk more to one another. He also mentioned how absolutely kind people were to him, how strangers often invite him to camp in their back yard and then cook him up a meal. Ryan scoffs at the idea of carrying a gun or some other type of protection. He says people are good. And they are. Mostly.

While we were having this nice conversation, a few miles away two friends were mountain biking in the surrounding national forest. Brad Treat, a law enforcement officer with the U.S. Forest Service, apparently startled a grizzly and was pulled off his bike and killed. This was only the eleventh person ever killed by a bear in Glacier National Park. You are much safer backpacking here than you are visiting Chicago.

But bears do sometimes attack and some people are bad. To paraphrase the Park Service, our safety is never guaranteed. Yet we think it is worth it, to leave your house, to meet strangers, to hike amongst bears and other wild animals, to cross swinging bridges, and to hike miles from your car into a place where snow never completely melts and the world is still wild.

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The Swinging Bridge at Kootenai Falls (a little west of Libby, MT on HWY 2)

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Corey’s “Thirsty Boots” and the Kootenai Falls

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Along the Hi-Line

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The pebble hit our windshield like a rifle shot and left behind a distinct dent in the glass. Luckily the wound was to the periphery and did not in any way obscure our vision. But Blue Eyes, the last vehicle we drove to Alaska, received a similar injury years ago. This winter the crack finally expanded across the entire windshield. We feared a similar, more immediate fate for Subie.

The hit occurred Saturday as we drove hundreds of miles from the North Dakota Badlands right up to the border of Canada before veering west via Highway 2 or, as it is more commonly known, the Hi-Line. The original Hi-Line was the rail road track running parallel to the highway. Once referred to as The Great American Desert, the rail road rebranded northern Montana as a potential bread basket that could rival Iowa. The U.S. government then gave away parcels of land to anyone willing to stay a year and make improvements. People came from all over the world to strike it rich in the land of opportunity. Almost everyone failed. The few that stayed consolidated land and traded crops for ranching. The few surviving towns, like Malta, now intermix with virtual ghost town where dogs roam the boarded up downtowns.

For our drive the weather was a constant change with us moving in an out of rain every twenty minutes. Many times we were in sunshine (temperature a low seventies), the rain a few miles ahead of us, a distinct smudge bridging the storm clouds and the earth. Then we would come into the storm and the temperature would drop twenty degrees while the blue sky teased us ahead. Over and over this pattern repeated with the rock hitting us during a rainy streak.

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Luckily we made into Havre without the spider web crack expanding. Havre, a true oasis on the dusty Highway 2, has a special significance for Corey and I. Many years ago, on very hot and similarly unwelcoming day, we holed up here for the night and forgot all our travel worries. For many years after, whenever the road seemed especially tough, we would wish aloud for another Havre.

That night was no different and in the morning we tended to our windshield. Being Sunday, every mechanic was closed but we did find a fix-yourself-kit. The resin took an hour to dry so we took in the Wahkpa Chugn Archaeological Site which showcases how various Native American tribes used the area as a “Buffalo Jump.” In short they would panic them over the cliff then butcher them in the hundreds. Tribes would then camp out for up two months feasting on their handiwork.

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So the road gives and the road takes. So far our crack is holding but it is going to need a touch up before winter. If not for the bump in the road we would have passed on the Buffalo Jump site. Crack remains contained until we get home it was all worth it. If not… well nothing we can do about it now.

Theodore Roosevelt National Park, ND

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The Badlands Motel. I really wish we were staying there. Or at least that was what I was thinking as we fled the outdoor Medora Musical (a show cut short due to the swirling lightning and dark, dark overhead skies). The road back to the campground was a winding five miles in the dark with massive elk (their shape illuminated by lightning) grazing in a meadow. At the campground entrance a bison stood by the side of the road as if to greet us.

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Once at our site we waited out the coming storm. Henna read in the front seat and I fiddled with the stove to boil up some hotdogs. Corey and I moved the camp chairs next to the car and watched the northern sky explode, a constant flicker whose flame was only intermittently heard. The southern sky was not much better and also maybe closer as the thunder was much louder. A few drops, a lot of wind, but the storm never quite reached us. Neither did the bison. As we set up camp the host told us that they often wander through the campground, especially at night. He said just don’t bother them and they won’t bother you. I heard, a bison will stomp on your tent while you lay sleeping. On an earlier hike to the Little Missouri River we were surprised by a dozen or so of those big suckers grazing a few feet from our car. Corey and Henna took pictures from the car while I frantically begged Corey to drive away. Looking back, I think that may have been the first time that I longed for the motel.

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It was hot too. Like mid 90s unrelenting hot with nowhere near enough cotton woods to offer shade. We found ourselves post-ice cream with two hours to kill before the musical. So we made dinner in a picnic area, strolled a western-themed book store, and played in the park which was almost as nice as taking a late afternoon nap in AC cooled motel room while Henna surfed the channel for cooking shows.

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When I took my nightly stroll to the bathroom the half-moon shone as bright as the sun.  The world was silent and the cold wind was constant. But yet the ground still felt warm on my bare feet. As I crawled back into my sleeping bag I was startled by the riotous call of a thousand birds. There was nowhere else I wanted to be.

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Postcards from North Dakota

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You might not think of North Dakota as being a haven for foodies, but we ate pretty well our second day out on the road. We woke in a KOA Kamping Kabin and had a nice conversation with out neighbors (a very cool family from Iowa in town for their daughter’s dance competion). After a light breakfast followed by a rest stop picnic, we drove out of the humid Midwest (soundtrack to Hamilton playing in the background). Shopping in Valley City an older woman asked us where we were from (guess they do not get many visitors in Valley City). I asked her where one might find a cup of coffee and some ice cream. She pointed us in the right direction but qualified her pick by saying “it might not be as nice as what they have in Chicago.” She said that without a trace of sarcasm.

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I wished I asked the owner how long she had been serving cappuccinos and very good ice-cream. I also wished I asked it’s connection to the first movie theater in town (movie poster were in one corner of the room as well as a framed article from the 1920s announcing the opening of Valley City’s first ever movie theater). But we were just too busy eating, drinking, and playing checkers (I also wish I did not lose to Henna).

DSC_0033A few hours later we were better prepared for Kimi. Kimi’s namesake food truck is the place to eat in Bismarck. Presently parked in a KOA, she has floated about the area serving absolutely delicious cowboy meatballs (sweet onion sautéed in a whiskey sauce, topped with charred bacon- that is what I had and man was it good), homemade mac and cheese, mini-fried donuts (12 for less than $5- you think you will have just one then end up eating the whole dozen), poutine (as good as they serve up north), and a whole lot of other goodies. A friendly and gentle soul, Kimi left her truck to talk with us a while and the conversation closed a long driving day.

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Hannah and Jim

Both on the road and at home we attract amazing neighbors. Last night we shared a fire with Matt, Hannah, and their four year old bearded dragon. All three were a blast and Jim spent a good deal of time cuddled up with Henna.

So right now it is nine. Corey and Henna are sound asleep. Matt, Hannah, and Jim just left town and my stomach is grumbling. Time to make breakfast.

 

 

 

 

 

North Country

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As we drove away today…after everything was packed, the planning was done and we kissed the cats for the last time…and I saw our house in the rear view mirror I felt a sense of weightlessness.  I get it every time we leave.  Every time.  Even as Henna gets older and I feel a sense of guilt that she might miss something, once we are gone all that worry melts away.  Worry, worry.  Too much worry.  Life must be lived today as tomorrow is no guarantee.  So as we headed north toward our first layover, we decided to stop over at Paisley Park and pay our respects to the dearly beloved Prince.   Even the sky was heavy, as if it wanted to cry from the loss.  Yes, life must be lived fully.

Fare thee well for tonight.  Hope everyone is safe from the storms.

Corey

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We Get Set To Drive To Alaska

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Yes, you can drive to Alaska. Per Google, it is about 3,400 miles from Chicago to Fairbanks which clocks in at a little over 59 driving hours. Maybe add a few hours to that if you want to take in the scenery. The route is actually pretty straight forward and involves a lengthy drive on the Alaskan Highway. But that is not in fact our intended route. Nope, we plan on first gliding over to Vancouver Island for a rendezvous with our cousins/friends. After a bit of catching up and a little backpacking, we will then hop a car ferry to Prince Rupert before heading to The Last Frontier via the Alaskan Marine Highway system. A poor man’s cruise, we will visit several islands before anchoring in Haines. From Haines we head to the interior then back to the coast at Seward and Homer. Afterwards we visit Denali and then head home via the Alaskan Highway.

If that sounds a bit audacious to you, well then you have a mighty fine vocabulary. Right now though, typing up our plans from the comfort of our home while listening to the Cubs blow it against the Dodgers, it is a bit intimidating. Honestly, it is always a bit intimidating before we set out but the planning is a good distraction. So are the toys I got for my birthday which include a nifty new netbook (yes, they still make them), a monocular and an oversized French press. All three will hopefully be put to good use.

In the last few weeks we have also purchased a cheap Coleman tent (big enough for three to sit in while escaping insects), some good wicking clothes, and a few other do-dads. The car has been looked over as well and now sports a new and quite pricy rear drive shaft. A quick look through of the house uncovered a few not too banged up lenses along with our trusty Nikon D40 that boasts a whopping 6.1 megapixels. We are not quite ready to leave the comfort of our home, but if I listen carefully I can hear the lone howl of a coyote welcoming us back to the road.

Birding With Tom

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People outside of Chicago often stare at me in disbelief when I tell them how open and green the city is. I talk about forest preserves and bike paths and they answer with gunshots and beeping horns. But really, Chicago has coyotes aplenty to go with deer, skunks, possums, and way too many raccoons. Oh, and there was that time a cougar was shot by the Chicago Police Department a few blocks west of Wrigley Field. Less dramatic was the time Corey and I spied a fox one late night burying a mouse across the street from our house. The birding is even more impressive with dozens of species nesting and flying over my city block including a large hawk that often perches across the street from my house. On occasion we spy a bit of fur sticking to its claws.

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House Wren at Bunker Hill/ photo by Tom Lally

If the Edison Park neighborhood is teeming with wildlife, you better believe the nearby Forest Preserve is as well. It just so happens that last Sunday our good friend Tom was leading a guided birding walk through the Bunker Hill Forest Preserve as part of the “Bird the Preserves Big Year.” The contests pits the forest preserves of Cook County against one another to see which team can identify the most birds. My money is on the team that has Tom. Why? Because if Audubon was still alive he would probably be asking Tom’s help in identifying birds. Thus far, Tom has witness all but two of the 138 species of spotted at Bunker Hill since March of this year.

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Tom helping us identify some birds

Now I have known this stretch of Forest Preserve for quite a long time with my first introduction as a toddler riding on the back of my father’s bike. But I tend to rush through most sceneries with my eyes fixed to the road. I may cover a lot of miles but often see too few of them. Tom, however, has mastered the art of watchful lingering and knows well how to look and listen. Luckily for us he also enjoys sharing this perspective.

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Yellow Warbler at Bunker Hill Forest Preserve/ photo by Tom Lally

So at 7 A.M. the three of us, along with a crowd of fellow first timers and repeat offenders, were treated to a world of nests, birds, and avian intentions. A highlight for me was watching a Barn Swallow repeatedly scooping up little bits of mud in its beak to take back to its nest. Henna loved the many colorful Orioles she spied as well as an impressive Cooper Hawk sitting in its nest. Corey just liked being up earlier than maybe she has ever been on a Sunday.

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Orchard Oriole at Bunker Hill Forest Preserve/ photo by Tom Lally

This was a completely free event with Tom even bringing donut holes and binoculars for everyone. Tom leads one more guided bird expedition this spring but plans on leading more in the fall. For more information about guided birding walks throughout the Cook County Forest Preserve system, click here. And know this, there are not many things Corey and Henna will wake up early for. This is one of them.

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Hennacornoeliday’s Family Theater Pick: Connected

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This is really one trippy piece of family theater. Although at times it is a bit preachy (and I’m not so sure about the extended audience participation bit), Connected is a very creative visualization of time from the Big Bang to the present and then on to the terrifying future. Henna loved it. Corey really like it. I liked it. Hey if nothing else, it’s a good excuse to visit the hippie commune like Flat Iron Arts Building (1579 North Milwaukee Avenue). Also check out the awesome used book store across the street. Be warned, young minds might find the closing scenes a bit too intense.  

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L-R Luis Crespo, Mary Mikva, Antonio Brunetti, Stella Moseley (center), Justin Michael Dietzel, Amber Hugee, Warren Levon and Rasika Ranganathan/ Photo by Joel Maisonet

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L-R Luis Crespo, Annie Prichard, Stella Moseley, Justin Michael Dietzel, Rasika Ranganathan, Mary Mikva, and Antonio Brunetti/ Photo by Joel Maisonet

Tickets are $15-$30 with Sundays cheaper for families. Running through May 29. To purchase tickets go here. For my full review click here.