Road Warriors

Road Warriors 5, Day 3

May 2, 2014

August 15th, 2013

Breakfast was grab and go. I didn’t even get my coffee in bed. 🙁

We got to Northern Waters around 10 am as planned. The interrogation I have endured from our group about this kayak trip has been relentless. It’s like they don’t trust me or something. Over and over:

“Are you sure they will wait for us?”

“It’s a PRIVATE tour? Just our families?”

“Can we have our own kayaks?” **

Yes. Yes. YESSSS! For CRYING OUT LOUD!

Anyway. We got there and were immediately confronted with a very strange family of four, rifling through the packs, spray skirts, life jackets, etc. They must be with another tour?

No.

Sigh.

I suppose I could have made a big fuss. To say that I was assured over and over and OVER that we would be a group of eight with a single guide is an understatement. I did not make a big fuss because I decided it would be embarrassing and petty. Honestly. What would be the big deal?

Ha! Famous last words. They were so very strange and not at all friendly or enjoyable. However, the flip side of that is that we had people to make fun of for the rest of the trip. Lose/Win.

Who says I’m not a glass half-full kind of person?

All in all, kayaking was a lot of fun. Our lead guide was the “human fun police,” but we still managed in spite of him. The first half of the day we kayaked like his little soldiers, following his constant stream of directives, on the way to our lunch spot at Mosquito Beach.

on the way out

We were all figuring out how to steer, trying, in vain, to make friends with the weird family, and learning all that our fearless leader had to teach. Vast quantities of knowledge, had he.

Lunch was nice. We found a super cool rock shelf with a drop off. The water color was almost Caribbean blue. Gorgeous. Morgan, Charlie and Dave(!) all took the plunge.

After lunch we switched up partners and headed back. I was now steering Morgan. It was awesome. Total control. I relished this time, knowing I may never exert as much influence over her ever again. I steered her AWAY from our leader. We paddled to the cliffs! She was kicking up a great fuss, trying to paddle backwards. But I — I! — had the steering peddles (and a lot more resolve). Simply awesome.

Dave and Charlie take to the cliff and go under the waterfall

We were able to do this because Dan — the other guide — was actually fun. Jen, Mo, Dave and Char (not to mention aforementioned weirdo dad from the other group, dubbed “photo John” because I am pretty sure he took over 1000 pictures. –We were CONSTANTLY waiting for him. I mean seriously, yelling at him and still waiting. Even Dan said ‘JOHN put the camera AWAY and PADDLE’). Anyway — and mostly because of Photo John’s constant dawdling — we separated from the main group and kayaked with Dan — Photo John, because he was busy capturing eternity with his lens. And Dave, Jen, Mo and Char because we just wanted to have some fun and get away from the constant orders to “Stay left! Stay left!” from the leader.

We went thru the “crack”, under cliffs and waterfalls, etc. It was great. I have no idea why our leader would not have insisted we ALL take part. Isn’t that what you are supposed to do? It was not overly wavy or tempestuous water.

But no, while we were enjoying kayaking for the sake of kayaking, our leader was reprimanding anyone who went “too fast” or “too slow” or “too far right” or “too far left” and blah blah blah blah. I had thought Dan’s detour was sanctioned, but as we neared the end of the day, Dan told us to tell the leader that one of us “didn’t feel well” and was “too fatigued” to keep up with the main group (Really? Why not just blame it on Photo John?). It is astonishing to me that our leader, who I think might have been the owner of this business, could not see we wanted to do more than paddle in a straight line. It’s not that we were being dangerous or unsafe. The water was not hypothermic. We had all passed the safety test. We had been told we would be able to paddle through the crack and go under the falls. But he simply didn’t take us there. Anyway. Whatever. Hopefully, Dan still has a job.

Sadly and inexplicably, Wes, Jan, Lydia and Grace stayed with the main group. Well, maybe not inexplicably– Wes had gotten sea sick and puked while the leader extolled his diatribe, “Look at the horizon Wes! Look at the horizon!” Wes was totally over it and just wanted to get the hell back to the car. Perhaps that explains the two different groups. I don’t know. Maybe I just like to create drama where there is none.

Anyway.

When we got back, we emptied the kayaks and hopped in the car. I’m not sure what made me ask, since Dave said he was sure we got everything, but whatever. I’m supermom. Explanations for greatness are not necessary. “Did you get my camera?”

“No. I thought you did.”

We turned around. Dave was all agitated with me because he was 100% sure he emptied all the cargo holds. It wasn’t in there. I was equally sure it was not left on the shore. It was in a blue dry bag that I watched Dave personally stow in a hatch as we left our lunch spot. Dave said he did NOT stow it after lunch.

Stalemate.

Unfazed, because that is 100% normal for Dave, I said “It’s either in the hatch or Koos have it.” I didn’t want to take a chance and made him continue driving back.

When we got there, I jogged back down to the beach and Dan helped me look in the hatches. I knew it wasn’t in my hatch, because meanie leader-guy had made me swab it out with a sponge while Dan protested that I was a paying customer (I 100% agreed with Dan. there was a lot of tension between the guides by this point.). Next, I checked the front of Dave’s hatch. Empty. Meanwhile Dan popped the back hatch off, and there it was, just as I suggested in the car to Dave’s confident protestations.

Dan accompanied me to the car to deliver the blow to Dave in person, knowing he would not believe me. It was the true highlight of my day. It was also the perfect time to tip Dan without the other guide seeing. Win/WIN!

Koos made fish and shrimp tacos on the fire for dinner. Very tasty.

After dinner, Wes tested my resolve by asking me, “Where are those Marshmallow bars you have been hoarding all to yourself?”

Hoarding? …and here I thought I was appearing so generous the night before.

He was undaunted and unmoved. Was he kidding? I could not actually tell. Did this hurt my feelings? No. Not at all. Did I hope he would second guess my words and assume maybe I really did want to keep them for myself? Well…maybe. No. Nooo. Really Wes. NO! I continue to be conflicted about these bars. I think it goes back to my childhood. But that’s a whole ‘nuther set of psychology sessions.

At any rate, he strolled over to the “hiding spot” and strolled back with two rather large bars.

Ouch! I shall continue to pray about my attitude.

Morgan went to bed first and others quickly followed.

** I am certain that someone will notice we did not have our own kayaks. Just another misdirection from our fearless dictator, who felt we wouldn’t be “up to the challenge” of our own kayaks. It was “better to go double” in case “someone couldn’t handle it.” I think you all know how I feel about this so I shall say no more.

Road Warriors Five, Day Two

April 28, 2014

August 14, 2013

After a ridiculously delightful meal of Biscuits and Gravy (which I must remember to post sometime here for your own delightful pleasure), we left the comforts of the cabin at 7:45 am.

The Koos somehow (well, I know how) got about 45 minutes ahead of us. (Gas, Preparation H Moist Wipes — don’t ask, won’t tell — Potty, Coffee, Two Wrong turns later…) There were four separate stops when it was all said and done.

We met back up in Munising, MI at the visitor center after Koos had determined that finding a first-come site on the lake was futile. It seems those sites are, according to the locals, expertly jockeyed-for and never available to anyone not “in the know.” We landed, instead, at Widewaters campground in the Hiawatha National Forest — wooded, private and very nice. I have said before that Minnesotans do not need a lake for camping. Private, “pee-worthy” sites are far preferred.

So we set up camp and the group hung at the Menke site, playing “Celebrity”* and enjoying the antics of Jan: surely the lightest-weight drinker that ever lived. How fun would that be? To have one drink and be so buzzed? Think of the calories and time saved. –Not that being buzzed is the goal, of course. No, no, no. Of course not. But still.

The most memorable line of Jan from day one:

(In reference to camping in the Boundary Waters the previous summer) “The more I thought about it, the more it grossed me out. With all those people using the designated camp sites, it is inevitable that you are camping on someone’s poop.”

Ahhhh. I’ll have another gin and tonic, please…

Eventually, to Lydia’s relief, I made a move to get dinner going — Spaghetti — which was very good, despite the fact that it was much thicker than normal. And the fact that I heated it up in my über-cute, antique, sky blue, enamel cast iron pot with the — oops! — flaking enamel inside, scraping the bottom as it reheated, causing tiny squares of enamel to flake off and mix with the sauce… Kind of a bummer. Oh well. What’s a cracked crown compared to delicious spaghetti?

Added to the spaghetti was yummy cheese bread and arugula, tomato, mozzarella salad.

S’mores were brought out immediately after — where it should have ended — however, Morgan made the ridiculously fatal mistake of causally walking over to the S’more group eating one of my coveted (and carefully hidden) caramel-rice krispy bars — a H U G E indulgence/sacrifice undertaken by ME to please both Morgan and Charlie, who disagreed (as usual) about which bars to bring this year: regular rice krispy bars or Special K bars with no chocolate frosting. I decided to end the argument by making — drumroll — Aunt Rita’s Caramel Rice Krispy bars. Something that requires actual TIME and PATIENCE (virtues in short supply the day before a Road Warrior Road Trip).

Morgan arriving at the campfire, casually nibbling this delicacy was truly a pivotal moment and required lightning speed attitude readjustment and a silent self-pep talk (let’s be honest and call it a prayer) in order for me to graciously offer the bars to everyone after Lydia spied the dessert intruder with her keen eyes.

But really. It’s fine.

Sugar is a toxin, after all. And I should share the wealth.

Even with that disaster, it was a fun night.

*Celebrity: google it for the rules. Fun group game and way more fun than Charades.

Road Warriors Five? Now?

April 22, 2014

I woke up to a text from Morgan this morning. She sent it at 1:04 am and it said:

(She’s in college now people. She’s allowed to say ass.) Which of course made ME want to read old Road Warriors posts. Which of course I did and went down a long dark rabbit hole from which I am only now emerging.

Anyway. I realized that in my anti-blog state of the past year, that I never posted any of our last camping trip with the Koo’s around Lake Superior last year. And while it is hardly the season for Road Warriors. I thought it might be fun. I have not yet read thru the journal to see if it is even blog-worthy. I do know that I never completed it — which is always the case — because I read the last page. I do that with literally every single thing I pick up to read. First instinct: flip to the last page. I am flawed.

So anyway, I’m just going to do this thing. I’m not going to waste time and find artwork and all that crap. I’m just going to type from the journal. Here we go!!

Lake Superior Circle Tour with the Kooistra’s, 8/13/2013

…I don’t want to write a journal this year.

I need to embroider…

I’ll just start with notes. Here goes:

Jen did most (e.g. ALL) of the prep for the Menke’s. Koo’s did the trip/route/campground planning with the exception of the kayak trip. Initially, the plan was to head to the Porcupine Mountains (oxymoron, despite their beauty. Please. Let’s find a word for in-between “hill” and “mountain”. It’s embarrassing. I’m embarrassed for you, Porkies…) after spending Tuesday night at my parent’s place in Hayward. We’d camp one night in the Porkies, break camp early and make it to Northern Waters Outfitters by 10 am (about 4 hour drive).

Wes was just too nervous about making it on time for the kayak trip, so he made the decision to skip the Porkies altogether and go straight to Munising and find a campground. I did not get a vote. [remember: I’m just writing what the journal says. Obviously I did not like this decision. But it’s April 2014, it’s sunny and I’m over it. Here that Wes? I’m over it!]

We decided for each family to take two dinners and one breakfast each. We’d go out to eat once and figure out the 6th meal on the fly. Menke’s brought spaghetti and rib eye steaks. I also snuck in green curry for the potential 6th meal. Jan dibzed pancakes for her breakfast, so I brought a compilation of eggs, bacon, potatoes with the somewhat haphazard idea of attempting to bake a quiche. [yes. i’m serious. dumb. i know.]

Complicating our departure were two things:

Charlie’s high school soccer “try outs” — if that is a term you can apply to 22 guys going for 16 spots. Perhaps I was overconfident, but Charlie’s pretty much a rock star. Suffice it to say, Charlie made varsity even though he had to miss the last two days of try outs. Regardless, it was a relief because this was the only week we could do a trip with the Koo’s — something that Morgan insisted on. Morgan pretty much insists on everything, but since this was her last trip before heading off to college, we were particularly malleable to her demands. –That, and, we actually do like the Koo’s. 🙂
Dave’s ridiculous work-schedule of late. ’nuff said.

It should go without saying that we did not leave on time. And that I was not happy.

I swear to God, I could pull out a picture from the beginning of a trip from 8 years ago and it would be indiscernable from this years:

We arrived in Hayward about 7:30 pm. My Mom and Dad had made (and held) dinner for us: Chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy and lemon bars for dessert. The Koo’s left home on time and as a result arrived in Hayward long before us. They opted to kill time in town to wait for us.

Where did they go?

To a bar and to Walmart. Go ahead and judge them. I did.

On their way to the cabin, Wes followed his GPS and got hopeless lost since it brought him to a very, very far away “Birch Lane” rather than to our Birch Lane. Hayward has notoriously sketchy cell service, they couldn’t call, blah blah blah. He was pretty irritated, labeling “the Menke’s” as “terrible communicators.” –And here I’m going to just assume he meant the biological “Menke’s” and not those associated by marriage.

After a nice tall Dewars (or two), though, he became quite nice. And we had a lovely evening. Mostly we talked about just staying in Hayward, to be waited on hand and foot by the ever-hospitiable “Morgan family.” (The one I’m related to by birth). Alas, it was not to be.

On a brighter note, however, we were elated to learn that Granny had made biscuits and gravy for breakfast to send us on our way in the morning. YES!

Would anyone believe me if…

January 25, 2013

…I said I couldn’t find the Road Warriors journal?

BECAUSE IT IS TRUE!

And with that, I resume the search.

[ If only to put off working on a proposal for a whole lot of new work. ]

Road Warriors Four. Day Six!

September 29, 2012

Wednesday 8/12.

We got up bright and early to hike to the highest peak we could see from our site. There was no trail, so we blazed our own.

The Reluctant Hiker became the Angry Hiker about half way up.

We find it best to leaver her to wander, bringing up the rear, where she can talk herself into the benefits of an active lifestyle. It usually works and it did today as well.

At the top of our fire scarred peak, we took a bunch of self timers… (sorry in advance. got lots of pictures – finally)

and headed down for a big breakfast — to include BACON! Charlie manned the “toaster,”

Dave cooked the bacon and Morgan…

I can’t remember. I do know she briefly toasted, but lost that duty when she presser her hot poker into Charlie’s knee.

I have no idea how she did it, but amidst all the yelling and drama, somehow she turned it in to Charlie’s fault. He didn’t miss her when she wandered away. Probably to apply make-up in the back seat again…

Morgan had a BLT (where T=turkey). Dave had a BLT (where T=tomato). Charlie had E&T (where T=toast and E=eggs). Then Charlie had a BLS (where S=sandwich) and I had a massive, 2-egg bacon and cheese sandwich on a moldy ciabatta bun.

Sound gross?

Well it wasn’t.

Thunder sounded in the distance and we scrambled to pack up. Jen and Morgan used the leftover warm water from dishes (clean, unused water, that is) to quickly shave our beastly legs. Morgan lacerated herself in many places blaming the carnage on “too many goosebumps.” Honestly, she took like 15 minutes to shave her SHINS. I didn’t know this: you apparently must exfoliate before shaving. How can it be that I’m 47 and have been missing this pre-requisite for smooth legs? And still she managed to cut herself in about six places.

And speaking of exfoliation, can you please give Charlie a squirt of that stuff? He has found that he appreciates a good exfoliating face wash. He likes how it makes his face feel…

Oh Lord help me.

We headed out through Challis, toward Stanley and the “majestic mountains” we sought toward our next adventure.

Stanley was…hmmm….How shall I say? Disappointing. Kinda hot. Dusty. And just, well, hickish. The campgrounds sucked — from the Lakeside units to the corrals.

Yes, the scenery was lovely, but the road work, people, and campgrounds were not our “cup of tea” (to quote Carlos again). We considered dispersed camping again, but there really weren’t that many options. Finally I just said “let’s just get the Hell out of here.”

And so we did.

Hightailing it further down I75 and trying to get a little closer to Sun Valley, the designated shopping mecca of the trip.

It’s just crazy to us the campgrounds people choose. Ick. Ick. Ick. And crowded! We all just look at them and think — well maybe it’s only me who thinks this — “Where will I pee?” Or, “What if I walk out of the camper in my underwear?” Or even, “What if I fart too loud?”

You see the problem that a crowded campground presents?

And so it goes. We diss’ed all the lake campgrounds. Western state campers flock to lakes. We, of the 10,000 lakes, don’t need a lake to feel like we are on vacation. We rejected over six campgrounds on our quest, eventually reaching the Sawtooth National Recreation Center Headquarters building and found out that — surprise! — we could disperse camp anywhere! And even have a fire! (No wonder we didn’t get in trouble last night…).

So that’s what we did, finding a pretty good spot just a few miles down from the headquarters building. We passed some PRIMO spots right on the North Fork of the Big Wood River, but most were taken. There was one open spot, but Dainty Dave was too weeny to attempt it. waa! waa!

I will say this: the axel swap we did last year with the new bigger tires is AWESOME. The tires aren’t even bald yet, the camper bounces around like a real 4WD rig. Love it. We researched getting a new camper on the drive home last year and I spent probably 4 straight hours of the last leg that Dave drove reading online, eventually finding all kinds of sights detailing camper modifications. There are people who document every little thing they do to their campers. Can you imagine?

Ha. I only realized as I wrote that last bit how hypocritical I sound.

Anyway, we got the idea to put bigger axle on the camper while in Ouray last year during one of our tire blow outs. Last fall, I brought the trailer to Rodney at Highway 55 Trailer Sales in Rockford. He’s the best! It was a relatively inexpensive upgrade. The three new tires cost more than the actual axel. It really goes over the bumps and rocks well. Dave totally could have gotten into that spot…

INTERJECTION: As I write this, the kids are over by the camp stove brushing their teeth and getting ready for bed. I just heard Charlie ask for Morgan’s exfoliating face wash again. When she said NO he said “But I like how it made my face feel.” END OF INTERJECTION

Anyway, the second best thing about the new tires and axel is that it looks cool. The third best thing is that you can now see it out of the back window and rear view mirror, which is ever-helpful for backing up.

I digress.

We went to a different spot NOT on the river because weeny Dave didn’t want to attempt the back our awesome little camper into such a narrow spot. –It totally could have snuck in there. I swear. It was our 5th night of camping and our fourth site. And even though we say — EVERY YEAR — that we aren’t going to move as much, we always do. We must like it.

One thing we have improved on this year is our timing. We have yet to come screaming into a site at dusk and eating in the dark. Bravo for us. It’s only taken us about ten years to get that part right. Here, outside of Ketchum, we set up camp about 4 pm, leaving us plenty ‘O time for drinks and appies. Charlie and I took a bracing river bath in the stream across the road. I must say, it’s a lot easier camping now that I’m way less vain about my hair. I can’t tell if it’s because I don’t care, but I actually don’t think it looks all that bad! [update: after reviewing the pictures, I must retract this statement.]

We cooked our last official meal: Flank steak kabobs with onions, peppers, and zucchini. We also had beets that we cooked in the fire a couple nights ago. Tomato/mozzarella/avocado/arugula salad. And a big, fat, happy belly.

OH MY GOSH! Road Warriors Day Five!

September 17, 2012

Tuesday, 8/7/12.

Up early… Well, not really. We’ve pretty much been up early everyday. We, as in Jen, Dave and Charlie. Morgan is working on pushing the weekly average night’s sleep to 15 hours. Today’s 7 am roll call might have cut it down to 14.

We ate a quick breakfast of coffee, toast and pop tarts, depending on who you are.

We met Emmet and Toby right on time (a rarity for a Menke) in the tiny metropolis of Connor. Texts and emails were gathered, as planned, and we headed up to the drop off point on the Bitterroot River. Morgan and I were in a boat with Emmet, and Charlie and Dave were with Toby.

It was super fun. Kind of like a lazy white water trip with no paddling, which is traded out for the fun of casting a fly rod.

Definitely Dave and Charlie had the technique down. Morgan and I… well we followed direction. And we improved. However, by the end, my hand was frozen into a claw from holding the pole, so intent was I to “do it right.” Meanwhile, Morgan, who was up front in the boat, ws so spastically casting that every time she drew her rod back, the fly was ripped out of the water with such force I thought she had a fish. It made for a lot of excitement.

Morgan caught the first fish. (Well actually Emmet caught the first fish on his first cast while demonstrating to us how to cast. No other fish was caught for about an hour). It was a little hybrid trout.

I later caught a big rainbow that Emmet made a lot of fuss over. Fly fishing shouldn’t be stressful, but I will tell you that I was under an extreme amount of stress as I brought that fish in. It seemed to mean an awful lot to Emmet and I didn’t want to disappoint him.

During the last half mile of the float, Morgan’s pole finally gave up the good-fight and actually separated from itself as she casted it apart. Through all our snags and crossed lines, Emmet was ever-patient, gentle and filled with good humor. When she casted her rod apart you could have sliced the tension with a knife. As he told her to “FREEZE. Don’t MOVE.” The only thing I could compare it to would be if he was diffusing a bomb that was strapped to her chest. The rods must be expensive?

Anyway. After we finished and got out and Emmet took the raft out of the river, Dave and Charlie floated up about 15 minutes behind us, all quiet grace and elegance. Long beautiful casts with the sun behind them. Kind of made me feel sorry for Emmet.

They each had caught “a few good sized trout.” But have no pictures to show for it and therefore I don’t believe them.

Because Emmet and Toby didn’t get the message that we switched from a full day to a half day in time, they had already purchased box lunches for us. We bought the box lunches from them and ate them on the way back to camp. It was a good call (my idea, of course). They were DEE-LUXE turkey sammies with sides of sprouts, tomato, lettuce, pickled peppers and onions and came with a veggie pack and ranch dip (that even Morgan liked!). And a cookie.

It saved us time upon returning to camp and breaking down. It was HOT – 93 degrees. But the grotto made it bearable. I love the grotto…

The plan this morning was to head north to Coeur D’Alene, Idaho and camp up there somewhere near the lake. But during the float with Emmet, intermixed with all him humorous “Ah! Black fly!” outbursts, aimed at Morgan to parody her damnation of our infested camping site, he said “Majestic mountains? If you are looking for that, head south toward Stanley and Sun Valley.”

I mentioned that to Dave on the car ride back and low and behold, that is what we are doing. We are literally that uncommitted to a plan. I think that’s a good thing?

But I’m not sure, actually. There might be a fair amount of rationalizing going on, on my part.

Basically, we backtracked about an hour from Darby to Lost Trail Pass and continued south on 93 into Salmon, Idaho. Awesome, awesome road scenery. I was driving that leg and the only bad part was coming around the outside corner on a hairpin turn. A smallish gold car, coming the other way, came screaming around the inside turn and began skidding out toward us. The car was as close to being on two wheels as I’ve ever seen. I fully expected it to either continue to skid directly into us or to roll over and off the cliff, possibly taking us with them.

Since I am prone to exaggeration, I read the above to Dave and Charlie and they agree it is true:

[I am in the Porcupine Mountains and forgot to scan the signatures! Check back in a week]

What? Why isn’t Morgan’s signature on there? No, she isn’t sleeping. She’s watching “Step Up Two,” which I believe we stole from the Murnane cabin and which I believe I later tried to pay for, but Kathy wouldn’t let me. Anyway, I’m not asking for her signature because she exaggerates just as much as I do — if not more — and because when the incident occurred, she was in the back seat watching a movie and probably doesn’t even know it happened. Mostly, we only hear from her when we go thru a town and she deigns to grace us with her verbal skills: “HEY. Is there any SERVICE here?” Or, more commonly, when she has her headphones on and is whisper-singing far too loudly. Other than that, we could be driving in circles for hours and she would never know. As long as we set up camp in a different spot, we could probably stay within 5 miles every day and she would be none the wiser.

It started to get late, so we began poking around campsites off of 93 starting with the Cottonwood Recreation Area. I can’t speak for others, but Charlie said it best as we spun thru the paved sites on the Salmon River at about 30 mph: “This is not the campground for us.”

We are learning (all over again, as we can never seem to remember this from year to year) that “Recreation Areas” are a sure tip-off that we will not like the camping options. So I don’t know why we even bother to look. Instead, we drove up Morgan Creek Road, encouraged by the good karma of the name. Ten miles up a gorgeous road along a green draw, we came upon Morgan Creek Campground. Basically it was a gravel parking lot with two itty bitty tents pitched and a forest service truck parked next to one with two guys inside eating.

Disbelieving the obvious, we asked, “Is this Morgan Creek Campground?” Yep.

“How is Little West Fork Campground?” (the next and last option further up the road.) They said, “Really, really nice!”

So on we drove, eventually coming upon Little Fork, which was virtually identical to Morgan Creek with the exception that instead of two tiny tents, it included a pop-up camper, an outhouse and a picnic table inside a corral. To keep you safe from charging cattle? Seriously odd.There were no actual sites. You apparently just set up on the cul de sac.

Curiosity got the better of us: Where does this well maintained, single-lane road go, do you suppose?

Up. Up. Up. To a trailhead that goes in to Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness Area. That’s the God’s honest truth. It’s the largest wilderness area in the U.S.A. At the very, very top, which took another 30 minutes to drive, there were yet another two itty bitty tents set up. It slays me that you can drive for hours on a road, never seeing another car or live person for miles and miles and find, at the end of the road, at the top of a mountain, a “full” campsite. Because we have a penchant for solitude, we turned around and headed back down to a flat little turn-out we had spied on the way up and disperse camped.

We knew that was legal. We just didn’t know if a campfire was legal. But seriously, who would ever know?

To explain just how remote we were is difficult.

So it was a bit of a surprise, about 8:30 pm, as dusk set in and we were finishing dinner, to hear a car coming up the road from far away. With a small fire burning and camping right off the road, we were totally busted. Charlie, rule follower that he is, was a nervous wreck. He had about five minutes of agony because it took that long for the car to appear. By that time he had scurried in to the Suburban to hide. And it wasn’t a car. it was a Forest Service truck. We braced for the encounter, each of us running over in our minds how best to profess our ignorance and play dumb. The truck drove by. Each occupant smiling and waving.

Huh. I guess you can have fires.

Charlie was relieved!

Morgan was never worried.

Dinner was MY favorite: Green Curry, together with Morgan’s 2nd favorite: boil-in-a-bag rice. This year we added chinese long beans, zucchini, eggplant and a sad handful of my sugar snap peas. It was awesome.

Dave bet me I couldn’t stay up till 10 pm. So I did. Writing this very entry to it’s full conclusion, enjoying this apparently totally legal fire.