I’m sitting in downtown Denver’s Hotel Monaco remembering all we have experienced and trying to put in all in order.  So many memories already, so much to share.  Okay, here goes something…

Cedar City, as you read in the first entry, was a very welcome site as we rolled in soaking wet and FREAKED from the line of storms we encountered.  After a night of bad take-out pizza and no liquor stores in site, my boots STILL weren’t dry.  I told ya, I was soaked to the core!  I knew there wasn’t a chance they’d be fully dry, but I tried.  Terry even put the blow dryer on cool inside each of my gloves.  Thanks, Mr. T!  It helped, but still smell a tad stale.

I was hoping to connect with Ben, an old friend from Santa Rosa who lives in St. George, but the weather was forcing us to head out earlier than we’d planned.  I didn’t want another day of back-to-back storms, so we had to jet.  Fortunately, I’d been out to Utah on a solo trip in April and was able to hike with Ben and his son, Josh.  Also, we’d promised to get together again in California later in July, so all was not lost.  After a splendid meal at Applebee’s (Ick!  Chain food…), we climbed aboard our respective bikes and headed east on a 2-lane road towards our one-night camping destination, Escalante.  After such a neat-o ride we’d had the day before, we wanted to be off the bikes at a decent time and give Jack some daylight to help set up camp and build a fire.  Trust me, this kid digs setting up his own tent these days (Yay!) and refuses help from anyone.  Rock on, little man, rock on.  After having our heads buried in our computers looking for any changes in the weather pattern, we decided not to go through Springdale and Zion NP.  And boy howdy, we made the right choice!  It was an awesomely beautiful ride along Highway 14.  One lane each way that curved in a way that only a motorcycle rider could appreciate.  Unless, that is, you’re on a Harley.  Okay, I KNOW some of you ride Harley’s, but DUDE!  Is there no such thing as going the speed limit or letting other bikes go around?  Every time I find another bike catching up and I know I can’t go any faster, I always give the 2-finger wave for them to go around.  You get the “Thank you” wave and off everyone rolls away, riding their own ride.  All are happy, no one is pissed, ta da.  But I gotta tell ya, some of these Harley riders are pissing us off!  I get that you’re carbureted and have trouble in the altitude (8,000 feet mind you), but could you PLEASE see your way to pulling over and letting us by?  You have PLENTY of chances at the turnouts!  Crikey!  We did finally find a spot to pass and were once again rolling at a nice pace.  Almost scraped the pegs a couple of times!  If you ride, you know what I mean.  Nice.  But our ride of bliss was quickly squelched when Jack proclaimed he was cold and needed to pee.  You’ve got it, little man.  Come to think of it, I needed to find a tree myself.  We pulled over at the top of an awesome peak and proceeded to layer up and scout the area for a “toilet”.  Being a member of the female persuasion, I have to look a little deeper in the woods, a tad further from the highway than the guys.  I rode up a dirt road that boasted no turnaround areas, but didn’t really have a choice.  Let’s just say this is a learning trip and I managed to turn around on the uphill, fully loaded, without sticking the front tire on the muddy, red ditch.  Whew!

The rest of the ride proved more stellar than we imagined.  How could the ride keep getting better?  Mountain laden trees, winding roads and views of natural lakes and red rock formations were found around every bend.  This breathtaking highway ended just north of Zion.  We looked south into a very dark, stormy skyline.  We really did dodge the storms today.  Very thankful.  Another restroom and Snickers stop and we were almost to our destination for the night, Escalante.  We were hoping to finally break out the camping gear and roast some dogs over an open fire.  We’ve all been itchin’ for charred wienies and burnt marshmallows since day one. It’s just not summer without them.  We rolled into Escalante but did not find the plethora of camping sites we had hoped to find.  Up and down the town we went, only finding one viable camping option at Escalante Outfitters.  Wait, isn’t it just an outdoor shop?  Nope!  Not only did this place have a shop and restaurant, it boasted about 8 small cabins, 10 tent sites, a covered eating area and a communal fire pit framed by 10 foot split logs as benches.  Perfect.  As we were unloading and setting up, we were greeted by 2 long-range cyclists on their way to Virginia.  And where did said cyclists begin their journey?  In San Francisco, of course!  Small world.  They were young; one fresh out of college, both had been working odds and/or just quit their job to take this opportunity to ride the states.  They had met online via an adventure cycling site.  Nope, they did not know each other before this gig.  Rocky, the 22 year old, had actually flown out from Connecticut to meet Isaiah, the other youngin’, in San Francisco to begin the journey together.  Rocky had done this trip with his girlfriend last year, only they began on the east coast and flew home from the west after completing the tour.  They were great guys to talk to.  We all talked about life and it being an adventure.  All of us were looking to reaffirm our sense of good in humanity through our travels.  They’d already encountered many, many good people who offered food and shelter during the storms.  We told them of our encounters from years past and how we, too, were hoping for the same result.  Bottom line from both parties – don’t watch the news, don’t listen to the hype, get off your ass and find out for yourself.  It’s a story for you to tell, not be told to by others.

Our desire for charred wienies was quickly extinguished when Isaiah told us that the restaurant attached to Escalante Outfitters had been written up in the New York Times for the tastiness of their pizza.  That’s all we needed to hear!  Fresh pizza and a pint of Utah’s finest 4% alcohol beer….mmmmm.  Yes, Utah has issues with its liquor.  Look it up.  It’s depressing, especially when you’re just off the road from a day of riding.  Anywho, I waited on the outdoor patio for Jack and Terry when a dude on a Harley rolled up.  He was quite friendly and said he was waiting for his friends who were down the road fueling up.  They were looking to camp at the same locale.  After a few minutes of conversation with the first dude, I KNEW it was going to be a night we’d always talk about.  And they didn’t let us down.  The second bike rolled up with another dude and a female on the back.  They looked fun and just solidified my “fun evening” comment.

While the Harley bunch was setting up their camp and we were on the patio eating our grub, a Suburban full of pretty boys pulled up and made their way to the patio.  They talked about a flash flood they encountered a day earlier.  I tried to engage them in conversation, asking where the flood was, etc., but was met with a single sentence answer and a cold shoulder.  Whatever, pretty dudes with manicured hands.  Not 3 minutes later, a couple of Harley’s rolled by and the prettiest of the bunch started making bike gestures and motor noises, spouting forth, “That just seems to boring!  Sitting there all day just VROOM, VROOM.”  Dickhead.  Me being the lady that I am, I couldn’t keep my trap shut, even with the look that Terry shot me before I opened my mouth.  He knew I couldn’t keep quiet on this one.  I immediately spouted back with, “Well, I just rode out from California and I was quite entertained the whole way.”  This was met with a rousing round of “Doh!” from his friends.  Home slice then proceeded to reply with, “Well, it’s just not my bag”, arms folded and an “Hmmph” to end the rant.  And that was that.  There’s a reason why guys like that aren’t married…the ladies are all too smart!    Asshole.

We finished the meal and hit the campground to finish any last minute camp setup.  The cyclists were eating their MRE’s and the Harley’s had made their way to some grub.  I had to run back to the store to grab some more wood and other stuff and returned to find all, cyclists, Harley’s and my family, sitting around the fire, chattin’ it up.  Talk about your motley crew of people!  Now this is what this trip is about, right?  Random people coming together to share stories and make memories.  The Harley rider’s were Bill, Huey and Veronica, all from Texas.  Bill rode solo while Huey and Veronica were an item.  Huey, tall and skinny with Willie Nelson braids, was such a nice guy!  Veronica was a second grade teacher, though I don’t think she wore leathers and smoked cigarettes while on the job.  Bill, we learned later, hadn’t worked in a while, still trying to recover from the death of his girlfriend of 9 years.  That’s a hard one hear.  I’ve got to tell you, we sat in front of that fire until almost midnight, sending the youngin’s out on a 4% beer run and Huey to get more firewood.  Over and over, Huey proclaimed just how much fun he was having and how he was so glad to have met us all.  Piles of empty beer bottles grew as the night sky shed its layers of clouds, replacing it with a comforting sunset.  There were stories of our past, our hopes of rediscovering humanity and goodwill, and our desire to continue this path as long as we could ride, no matter what 2 wheels you rolled in on.  We were all on the same journey.  We were all looking for adventure, to take back what the media stole from us – faith in each other as people.  If you listen to the hype, you start to believe the hype and eventually lose your way.  But, if you turn the TV off, put down the paper and go learn for yourself, you’d be amazed at what you’d find.  I mean seriously, here we all were, BMW’s, Harley’s and cyclists, all looking for the same thing and dammit, loving every single minute of each other’s company.  You can’t plan this, but it happens all the time!  All were taking pictures of Jack as he played his guitar by the fire, proclaiming that he was going to be famous some day.  They wanted to be able to say, “We knew him when…” We’re so proud of our son.  He’s never afraid to put himself out there for all to listen.  Are you starting to catch a glimpse of just how valuable this lesson is?  Can you imagine the memories Jack will have of all the wonderful people he’s met on his family adventures?  We want him to grow up with a passion for life and the desire to find good beyond what we’re “told”.  I think it’s working.

The next morning, I awoke at 6AM as I’d promised fresh, pressed Peet’s coffee for all.  Bill was the first to roll out with the others not far behind.  As we all packed up for the day’s travels, blue sky enveloping the entire valley, we talked about meeting for breakfast just down the way.  The others left before us, promising to save seats.  And they did.  It wasn’t just a night of idle chatter; it was a night of bonding, sharing, true friendship.  We parked in front of the restaurant, all 2-wheel modes of transportation lined up, and found our seats waiting for us, just as promised.  After a hearty meal (which Veronica and Huey covered for the youngin’s), we headed out to our “vehicles” and began suiting up.  It was a bittersweet moment, Huey still expressing his enthusiasm for meeting us all.  We exchanged cards and made promises to keep in touch, I mean REALLY keep in touch.  There were photos that needed to be swapped and stories to finish about our journey’s home.  We wanted to make sure the boy’s made it to Virginia safely.  Veronica promised to make me a bling doo rag.  I’m holding you to that, Veronica!  With more pictures, hugs and handshakes, we all departed, heading east, in search of another memory.

Our goal on this day was Moab, Utah, site of the Delicate Arch and home to some fantastic scenery.  We rolled in with plenty of time to find a campsite.  But, where to find one that wasn’t home to full-timers, retirees and icky people!  We rolled through town and found Canyonlands RV Park and Campground on the other side of town.  It had a pool, Laundromat and tent sites.  Perfect!  We set up camp and were the only one’s for quite some time.  It wasn’t until later that 2 chicks from Canada drove in and set up next to us.  They were very cool with hopes if staying for several days to get in some good hikes.  I don’t think that’ll be much of a problem in Moab.

We headed to the town grocery store for some provisions (Finally, charred wienies!), and whom do we run into but A FAMILY FROM DAVIS WHO ATTENDS THE SAME SCHOOL AS JACK!  I’m now convinced that our planet is tiny.  I spotted the mom first and asked, “Are you from Davis?”  I was met with an odd look and a, “Yesssss.”  “Your kids go to Cesar Chavez, right?”  “Yesssss.”  “We’re from Davis and Chavez, too!”, I exclaimed.  Laughter and rounds of, “Oh my god!” ensued as we swapped stories of our travels, where we came from and where we were headed.  Funny!

A night of dogs, Jack Daniels, and marshmallows quickly came to a close as we were all bushed.  It was Terry’s turn to sleep in Jack’s tent.  Ah!  A night of not having to pull Jack back on his bed pad or check to make sure he was warm enough.  Nighty-night.

So, kids, have we learned anything from today’s passage?  Love thy neighbor, learn from your travels, trust in others and trust in humanity.  It doesn’t matter what you ride or how many wheels you’re on, the ride is meant for all to enjoy – you just have to be willing to make the leap and keep moving forward, looking back only to reflect on those you’ve made along the way.  I’m off to a Rockies game!  Timing is everything.  Cheers!

“Do one thing everyday that scares you.”  Eleanor Roosevelt

First of all, a tremendous “Hey!” to all of our followers and a hearty “Welcome to Adventure Trio!” for all of our newbie’s.  I promise you won’t be disappointed but just in case you are, you’re not reading it properly.   Try again but this time with an open mind and a promise to keep reading.  This site is meant to inform, entertain and get you off your bum and outta the house.  There’s a whole world out there waiting to be explored by YOU.  All you have to do is put down the remote and take that first step.  But now, back to our story…

As has become our tradition, we picked Jack up from his last day of school with bikes loaded and ready to depart.  They do look a bit out of place in the teacher parking lot, but isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?  Don’t blend; shake with conviction.  And as usual, we had a crowd of people completely flabbergasted, mouths agape (honestly), as they pondered the idea of riding a motorcycle from Davis, California, all the way to Chicago, Illinois.  I mean, truly shocked.  Awesome.  (A huge “Thank you” to Valerie for taking our departing pictures and Jack’s backpack!)   As Jack suited up, he was approached by many of his friends and even more acquaintances asking where he was going, was he really riding a motorcycle, the list goes on.  He was proud, very proud…so are we.  On the bikes we hopped and away we rode.  Our first night’s destination – Reno!  Yes, Circus, Circus beckoned for a night of games, toys and celebrating the end of 3rd grade.  Hey, you have to celebrate these milestones in style, right?  The kid had a ball!  And what did he want to do the most?  Video games with mom and dad!  I mean, he has the whole circus floor to himself, but he’d rather be entertained with Air Hockey and driving games.  And speaking of Air Hockey, I CRUSHED Terry 5 games in a row.  Sorry, honey, but I had to share.

So, who out there has actually stayed at a Circus, Circus?  I mean, seriously, even Buddy the Elf would’ve been on “purpley” overload in this room!  I wanted gaudy and I got Barney.  Nice.  Perfect.  Jack dug the view (top floor) and we dug watching him and spending time together.  And did I mention that I won $20 within 2 minutes at the slot machine?  I really don’t like to gamble.  If I’m going to spend/lose money, I want a receipt.  But, when in Rome, I make $20 my max to lose.  I giggled with glee knowing that I just covered gas money for the next day.

One very good night’s sleep later and we were earnestly checking weather.com for updates on our third night’s destination, Park City, Utah.  What do you MEAN it’s supposed to rain, thunder and snow?!?  Is it not June?  Does Mother Nature have a hangover?  Yikes, dude!  With the third day destination on shaky ground, we continued on our original day two plan of heading east on Highway 50, The Loneliest Highway.  Loneliest my big ol’ white butt!  Motorhomes, motorcycles, tractor trailers, you name it, and all were heading west, except for us.  And once we were east of Fallon, the wind gusts began.  I hate the wind.  I loathe the wind.  Not a fan.  We literally rode sideways across Nevada.  No joke!  I’d see Terry get hit with a gust sending him 3 feet to the right and not a split second later I, too, was feeling the pain.  Every bike we passed had the same tilted look as they rode on by, still waving, but holding on, awaiting the next blast.  We did stop at “The Shoe Tree” for a bite and a stretch.  The Shoe Tree, you say quizzically?  Why, yes!  It literally is a large tree COVERED in layers of old shoes.  Years worth of foot fungus tossed high above, some even scattered along the ground below when their laces could no longer hold the weight.  It was stellar!  And man, there were some nice shoes up there!  Had I remembered to bring them, I would’ve added Jack’s old moto boots into the mix.  Ah, hindsight.  We did meet some pretty cool gents from Utah who were making their way to the Tahoe area for several days of dirt and street riding.  Very nice ex-Air Force men yearning for dirt and speed.  Ride on, gentlemen!

From the tree, we still had at least another 3 hours to get to Ely, Nevada, to stop for the night.  But, the ride was not without a damp moment or two.  Seriously, is it not June?  What the hell!  When we rode through Austin (a very cool old mining town I highly recommend), we were hit not just with rain but snow!  SNOW!  And yes, I need to say it again…SNOW!  Alrighty then.  Is this going to be a trip that we cover ALL of nature’s elements?  Guess so!  But guess what, I’m ready for the challenge as are the rest of the Adventure Trio.  Jack, especially, was delighted with the snow.  A stop in Eureka and another 60 miles finally found us at a hotel in Ely.  And how perfect of a place can you get – indoor room entry, indoor pool and hot tub, a smattering of older slot machines (my favorite was the Enchanted Unicorn), bar, restaurant, we were covered!  Remember when you were a kid how much a pool at a hotel meant?  It was freedom, it was making friends, a tad bit o’ heaven.  We literally could see him in the pool from our door.  Hey, a shot of Jagger, a hot tub and an entertained child makes for a fabulous evening.  But, what could make it even better?  How about winning $90 dollars within one minute of the first press of the spin button.  Yes, I really mean one minute!  Do you know how hard I was laughing when I cashed in and headed to the room?  All three of us were rolling with laughter.  In between trips to the pool, Jack kept himself busy writing in his journal about his adventure thus far.  I gotta tell ya, he’s really taken to chronicling events as of late.  Think how cool it will be for him to read his journal years down the road, reliving his experiences, hopefully with a desire to continue.

After another night of great sleep, we awoke to yet another rainstorm complete with gusty wind and freezing temps.  In the words of Ace Ventura, “Alrighty then.”  Not much we could do.  We packed our gear, covered the backpacks with plastic and added another layer onto Jack’s guitar, just in case.  We made sure to layer our own bodies, knowing that the day was going to hold pretty much all the elements that this planet has to offer.  There was no way around it and we needed to get east, hoping for Zion but knowing that we may have to stop in Cedar City, Utah.  The storm broke just as we were rolling out, around 10AM.  Jack was ready for anything the skies had to offer, and Terry and I were thankful that we had a kid ready to conquer the roads.  LOVE this kid!  There was a smattering of storms on either side of us just waiting to saturate all as we rolled down Highway 93, but we only saw rain from one of them.  There was NO WAY we were heading through Great Basin.  It was maybe 37 degrees out and the mountain wore a halo of black.  Not an ideal situation.  We continued to head south on 93.  It was a beautiful valley, mountain ranges on either side, the ground covered in bright yellow flowers and sage.  The smells were incredible!  It’s amazing how a fresh rain will bring out the scents of the high desert.  About 100 miles in, we decided to eat and explore a small town called Pioche.  Pioche?  Hell, yes!  We were only looking to stay about an hour (remember, we had to stay ahead of impending weather), but ended up staying almost three.  Why?  You want to talk about a town with history; Pioche fits the bill to a T.  We visited the museum, a place just FILLED with old mining gear, clothing, appliances, rocks and gems, everything!  They even boasted a black and white picture of a doctor amputating the leg of an indian that was injured in a mining accident.  Dude, no anesthesia and done right on the mountaintop.  Are you fucking kidding me?!?  The second picture taken included said amputated leg propped up against the table.  Wild, wild, wild.  I love small towns and their stories.  And speaking of stories, we were told that we needed to visit the old courthouse and jail.  Jack was all over it!  We hiked around the corner and met Jane, the courthouse museum’s historian and all around nice lady.  I told her that we heard about the jail we could walk into, and she immediately led us up the original stairway, past the DA’s office, through the courtroom set up with “dummies” as the jury and judge, and out the back door to the jail.  Oh, the stories this woman had!  It was all original, very dark and cold, and boasted a “drunk” loft for the guys to sleep it off.  Jane told us that at one time, Pioche was home to around 75 bars and 58 brothels.  Nice!  It was THEE mining spot in the late 1800’s.  This place was so wild there was at least one murder a day.  The Earp brother’s passed through thinking they were going to stay a while…they left the next day.  In its heyday, the town held around 10,000 people.  Now, it has maybe 1,000 full timers.  I’m telling you, this is the reason we’re on this trip – meeting people, visiting small towns and swapping stories.  Thanks, Jane, for a great tour.

Suiting up to leave Pioche, I noticed a not-so-friendly sky awaiting our arrival.  It was coming in from ALL sides with no escaping.  Fine.  Whatever.  We headed down the road about 15 miles and stopped for gas outside of a town whose name escapes me.  The road leading us east towards Utah was lined on both sides with storms, some of them offering a chance of thunder.  I took a few pictures, checked the rain-proofed items, and away we rolled towards the gates of hell.  We were 9 miles in when a bolt of lightening flashed over my right shoulder.  A scream came over the mic but was quickly drowned out by the clap of thunder that shook not only the ground but moved Terry’s bike a few feet left.  Terry immediately keyed up on the radio and asked, “So, do we turn around?”  I screamed back with, “Fuck no!  Put the hammer down and let’s get the fuck outta here!”  Turning back meant putting ourselves in the eye of 2 storms.  Moving forward at a high rate of speed meant putting it behind us, hoping now for Cedar City in a timely manner.  We had about 100 miles to go.  The rain finally stopped, but the barrage of storms continued to chase us east.  Fuck.  It took Terry about 1/2 hour to get Jack off the ledge.  Poor kid got spooked just as much as the rest of us.  What would happen if we hit another thunderstorm?  We pressed on, upping our speed when the pavement was dry, slowing 10-15 MPH when we hit rain.  I kept one eye north as a major, MAJOR storm cloud surrounded the mountain range.  It was doing its best to catch up with us.  We managed to stay ahead of it but did have to skirt around the eastern edge of it.  I was scared.  I’ve never felt so vulnerable in such an ominous situation.  Jack, thankfully, didn’t know any better, so I wasn’t worried about him.  (And for you you naysayers, we’d never put Jack in a situation that would threaten his safety or life.  Nuff said.)  The goal was Utah by 5PM; we had no choice.  We had about another 45 minutes and found ourselves heading straight into yet another dark cloud.  It surrounded the mountains and promised a damp ride.  Well, it was damp.  Too damp!  Water immediately started running into both boots.  My lined gloves were now rendered useless as was my riding suit.  The sound of hail against the helmet was not comforting, but at least there was no thunder and lightening.  Jack and Terry were dry and warm.  That’s all a momma could ask for at that moment.  We arrived safely in Cedar City by 5PM.  I, unfortunately, had water up to my ankles in both boots and a wicked case of the shivering shakes.  Poor Jack kept asking Terry, “Is momma going to get hypothermia?”  Almost, buddy, but the warm room and hot tub at the Holiday Inn Express helped keep me from going over the edge.  Time for laundry…ugh…

So there you have it, folks, a brief summary of our first 3 days on the road.  They were something now, weren’t they?  I know some (a lot?) of you are wondering why we do this, why we allow ourselves to go through such situations.  “Why not take the car?   You can still visit all the same places; you’ll be warm and dry!”  Because it’s just not the same!  So many of us go through life in comfort, never wanting to put ourselves in vulnerable situations.  These experiences are not only grand for Terry and I, but Jack is getting an experience that not many his age share.  He’s learning to push forward, never giving up.  He’s meeting people that would never have approached us if we were in a car.  Everyone does the car thing, but we’re an anomaly.  I like that.  Jack likes it, too.  If he didn’t want to go, he’d let us know, trust me.  We’d never force him into a situation he doesn’t want to experience.  This kid has such a bounce in his step every time we pull into a new place!   How can I NOT give him these memories?  Like Terry and I have said, we wished our families had done this for us when we were his age.

So, away we ride once again bound for Escalante, Utah.  I shall return later with more stories and anecdotes.  Till then, put down the remote, grab your family, and get out there!  There’s so much beauty to see, I promise.

You have no idea how HARD it’s been to come up with the words for this final entry about our venture.  As soon as I knew I was 1/2 hour from home, the constant high I had been feeling for 16 days began to wane, the level dropping with every click on the odometer.  I didn’t want to return to suburban life.  None of us really did, except maybe for Jack (and that’s only because he missed his friends).  We’d shared such an amazing experience, we weren’t ready to be thrown back into our day to day reality.  And I’m not even talking about the work or home grind.  I’m talking about the neighborhood grind, the “houses on top of each other” and “families pretending that they’re happy” grind.  Since we began pulling away from the usual several years ago, crossing over to the dark side, we’ve really noticed the vast amount of families that are just going with the flow, afraid to “break out” of the expected.  There’s too much fear in ruffling your spouse’s feathers, no suggestions of packing up and taking off without a game plan.  Oh, we have heard stories (first hand) from husbands suggesting to their wives that they do X,Y or Z, only to be met with a scowl and a stern warning to never bring it up again.  Wow.  So, you’re really not strong enough to stand up for yourself and how you feel?  You really are THAT afraid of your significant other?  Afraid to “start” something?  Are you THAT willing to just swallow your desires, shoving them into the closet for another 5, 10 years, maybe to be brought out after the kids go off to college?  Huh.  I’m not that willing nor do I want my husband to be, and it certainly is not a trait I plan to pass onto my son.  Why do you want to be together with someone you’re afraid of pissing off?  Why do you want to exist rather than take a chance on living?  If you can’t voice your desires for yourself and/or your family, then you’re in the wrong relationship.  Sorry, but it’s true.  Do you want to be that couple that, as soon as the kids are out of the house, goes their separate ways just because they were too afraid to be honest with each other?  I don’t know about you, but I’d rather grow WITH my spouse rather than grow apart.  Why not take that chance because, maybe, they may feel the same as you.  They may even be a little MORE afraid than you.  But together you can become a strong unit, forging ahead into an unknown direction.  And it’s okay to not know what you’re going to be doing EVERY SINGLE WEEKEND UNTIL CHRISTMAS!  I DARE you to leave a weekend or two open in October with the promise to try something new.  It can be anything, but it just has to be out of your comfort zone.  Change is imminent, constant.  Why not take charge of the change instead of letting others choose for you?  OF COURSE it’s scary!  OF COURSE you’re going to argue!  BUT SO WHAT!  You’re going to argue anyway, so why not argue about what you believe in- your family, yourselves, your future, your relationship.  Do you see yourself in any of what you just read?  I was once there but chose to stop drinking the Kool-Aid.  Are you going to put the glass down?

So, back from my rant….yes, the trip was awesome!  Yes, we are going to do a long trip again next year.  On the books?  Hopefully Alaska, maybe Route 66.  We have plenty of options keeping us awake at night, so we’ll have to narrow it down soon and start saving and planning.  Again, it will take A LOT of work and extra hours, but it truly is worth it.  I promise.  Now put down the Kool Aid, pick up a Sierra Nevada and promise to take even the tiniest of steps forward.  Nothin’ but love.

Cheers.

After the clothes were washed, the bellies fed and the stuff sacks stuffed, we headed outta the Holiday Inn Express in Astoria, our sites set on Mt. Hood.  Where in Mt. Hood?  Not sure yet, but with the bikes full of clean undies, we were confident that it really didn’t matter where we rolled out our tents.  As long as we were camping, we were all giddy.

With only one stop, it took us less than 3 hours to reach Mt. Hood.  Unsure of where to camp, we checked in with the information center in Government Camp for some camping info.  Lake Trillium?  And they may only have a couple of spots left?  We’re outta here!  It was only about a mile or so down the highway.  Hmmmm.  This place looks a little familiar.  Could it be?  Hell ya, it could!  A little history for you…

When I was 6 months pregnant with Jack, Terry and I took a motorhome road trip to Seattle, making our way back south through Oregon.  We needed a place to park our ride for the night and practically tripped over this location.  We pulled in, hooked up and walked around the pathways, stumbling upon one of the most picturesque locales we’d ever seen.  Spanned before us was the snow covered peak of Mt. Hood, framed in a sea of green and sky of azure.  Awesome.  So guess where we just happened to almost trip over again?  You got it.

Jack was so determined to set up his own tent, he wouldn’t accept help from ANYONE.  It may have taken him twice as long, but he was on it, taking his time not to get frustrated, never giving up.  In about 20 minutes, he had the whole sleeping quarters up and ready for slumber.  Dig this kid.  He was also, as always, quick to make some friends.  This time, he took an interest in some older boys who were playing catch.  Would he like to play, too?  WOULD HE!  We had brought our gloves to keep his arm ready for the All-Star game on the weekend of the 4th, so this was the perfect opportunity to stay loose.  Hell, I’ll even go throw some balls with the father/son team.  So there we were, having a grand time with a 4-way throwing square when ol’ Sandy at the mound throws a wild pitch and THUNK!, hits the dad’s truck right smack in the front right fender.  HOLY SHIT, SANDY!  Nice one!  I was mortified!  The guy was so cool as he kept saying, “Do you have any idea how many dents I have in this truck from baseballs?”  Doesn’t matter ‘cause now one of those dents was put there by ME.  Shit.  Are you SURE I can’t help pay for it?  Are you SURE?  Dude was waaaaaay too nice of a guy.  Terry just shook his head in not-so-disbelief, remembering that I have a knack for such a feat (Hello!  Epi-Pen!).  I decided it might be time to put down the glove and head back to camp.  Idiot.

And what kind of place is Government Camp anyway?  It’s literally a ski and snowboard haven for bratty rich kids whose parents fly or bus them in from all over the U.S.  No joke.  Rows of daddy’s little girls wielding the parents’ credit card and future republican senators holding skis littered the sidewalks.  Sometimes the parents’ were in tow, only present for their transportation and economic duties.  It was icky.  Trust me, I’m all for and into the winter sports scene, but THIS scene was far from the lifts of Mt. Shasta Ski Park, even Tahoe.   I had to hit the grocery store for our daily rations and was LITERALLY squeezed outta the way by said bratty rich kid.  No excuse me or I’m sorry.  It was like that with all the kids we encountered and I’m not exaggerating (though I wish I were).  Bummer.  And trust me, we called them on it each time they shoved their way through.  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, dude!  Where do you think you’re going?”  Sorry, junior, just because daddy’s rich doesn’t mean you’re entitled.   Now run along and the geezers get their grub.  Even Jack was in awe of their disrespect.

But here’s a very inspiring story worth sharing with the masses.  On our way out of the area, we headed up the mountain to the lodge for one last picture.  When we parked in front of the steep, lodge steps, we were immediately surrounded with what appeared to be members of the US Ski Team’s physically handicapped team.  But mind you, none of the athlete’s we encountered were limited by their disabilities in any way.  Paraplegic, wheel-chair confined, no lower extremities, one lower extremity, it didn’t matter.  These athletes were out there DOING IT!  Suited up, geared up, they were ready to hit the slopes, no holds barred.  After we took off our motorcycle helmets, we were immediately approached by one of the ski team members, a young man with only one leg, maneuvering along with the help of crutches.  He said he watched us pull up and had to strike up a conversation.  Are you kidding?!?  YOU are the person I want to talk to!   This dude was cool, totally personable.  Another wheel-chair athlete offered to take a family picture.  Thanks, dude!  And you’re a UCD alumni?  Even better.  As we rehydrated, I watched as the skier we had been chatting with made his way up the steps.  There was no complaining, no hesitation, just determination and a big ass grin.  Wow.  I want to be him when I grow up.

Our time at Lake Trillium was the camping trip we needed before our last couple of nights.  And our meeting with the athletes was the inspiration WE needed to be thankful for, well, everything.  The next time you bitch and moan that you can’t do something, just think of the guy climbing the stairs with his crutches or the young kid without any legs gearing up for a ski run.  I don’t hear them complaining, do you?  I didn’t think so.

Cheers.

After successfully getting the bikes off the ferry (aka “not dropping them on the ramp”), we found our way onto Highway 101 and headed toward Forks, Washington.  With our sights set on Forks, home of the Twilight phenomenon, we weren’t sure if we’d make it.  The ferry didn’t dock until around 5PM and we were fading fast.  We chose to pull off at the first lodging sign, Log Cabin Lodge at Lake Crescent, Olympic National Park.  What a beautifully awesome vision of nature!  Highly recommended.  The mountains were grand, something that just couldn’t be captured on film. We followed the winding road to the lodge, finding ourselves at a very “rustic” lodge and set of cabins.  I don’t believe that rustic quite captures the essence of this place.  I believe ‘old and kept up best as possible’ really captures it better.  There was a very kind, smokey voiced woman behind the counter, the owner, Becky.  Becky turned out to be very entertaining, telling some cool stories about the location and herself.  She was actually very, very pretty.  I only hope to be as attractive when I hit the “golden” years (but if you ask me, all years are golden).  We hit the beds early in hope of a good nights sleep with the promise of clear skies in the morning.

Well, we kind of got a good night’s sleep.  Seems we weren’t alone in our cabin for the night.  Something was trying to work its way into the cabin, but what?  We could hear what sounded like a crunching noise, but couldn’t see anything.  Finally, a tiny little mouse, clutching a dead leaf in its mouth, emerged from a small hole by the door, raced through the room  and popped back into a hole by the kitchen cabinet.  It wasn’t alone – another mouse wasn’t far behind him, again with a leaf.  These things were fast!  They were the only two to make a mad dash.  We’re just thankful we didn’t have any hitchhikers along for the ride.  Crisis averted, it was time to move on.

We couldn’t have asked for a more serene landscape along Highway 101.  It hugged the shores of Lake Crescent that were abundant with colors of fuschia, gold and white, framing the turquoise water that edged the mountain range.  I wanted so badly to pull over and take a picture, but there was no safe place to stop.  That’s okay.  I guess some pictures are meant only for me.

Terry was more than a willing participant in our search for Forks landmarks.  Jack, not so much.  But as long as he had music in the iPhone, he was a champ.  I was determined to find as many of the books’ highlight points as possible.  We were given a map of all the pertinent locales and set out to find as many as possible.  Carloads of teenagers, some with their mothers to help drive them around, dashed from place to place, cameras at the ready.  It was fun to watch and I had no problem joining in the madness.  Hey, it may be a silly phenomenon, but why not be a part of it if only for a moment.  I took my pictures, got lost (helps if you have the map right side up), bought the tee & some stickers, then headed south to make our destination by sundown.  Forks was fun and well worth the tour.

South we headed, ready for another long day on the road.  Okay, so Jack wasn’t as ready as the rest of the trio.  That’s okay, buddy.  You hang back and catch a nap while we drive.  Unfortunately, we did encounter one not-so-nice person at a one-pump gas station.  Terry pulled in, followed by me.  A silver car pulled up behind me about 10 seconds later, occupied by an older dude and his wife.  As we geared down, the older dude jumped inside to get ahead of us, gave his charge card then proceeded to grab the gas hose in an attempt to fill up before us.  Excuse me, rude dude, but we were clearly here before you.  You’re REALLY going to take cuts, just like in line at recess?  The attendant inside said yes, we were first. The rude dude began mouthing off, blah, blah, blah.  But once Terry shot right back, the guy was, “Whoa! Whoa!”, hands up in defeat.  Even his wife told him to calm down.  What an ass.  Hey, if that’s the only ass we’re going to encounter in this entire journey, then no problemo.  We left without anymore words exchanged, bound for Astoria.

We rolled into the Holiday Inn Express in Astoria after another long day, almost 6 hours on the road  It has a guest laundry?  Nice.  Indoor pool and hot tub?  Nicer.  We unloaded, got my piles separated and dove head first into 4 loads of stinky, disgusting bags of cotton and man-made fabrics.  We soooo needed to freshen up!  With pizza on the way and cold Sierra Nevada in the room’s fridge, we were ready to settle into a night of food, libations, pool and chill time.  Golden.

Off we were the next morning by 11AM.  It was going to be a  shorter riding day, only about 140 miles to Mt. Hood with a stop at the BMW dealer south of Portland for some oil for Terry’s bike.

So there you have it, folks!  Almost completely updated, pics and all.  Whew!  I normally need at least 3 hours of uninterrupted time to complete these updates.  Between uploading, sorting and labeling pictures plus trying to remember all the hap’s from the road, it’s quite a job.  But it’s one that I love, especially when I get such positive feedback from my readers. Thanks.  I’m off to enjoy the beautiful weather and find my family.  They’re wandering the streets of Government Camp now in search of some new stickers for our side cases.  Enjoy the day and savor every moment.

Cheers.