Alaska Road Warriors

I know everyone is on the edge of their seats, so I won’t keep you hanging. The white bikini was not fated to be. The camper got done right on time and we were off and on our way before Megs and the girls got to town. I know that will be a big disappointment to the bride, but the Warriors must roll on…

Backing up to where I left off, there was one incident of note on the way to Coalville that I would be remiss not to chronicle. It’s going to tax my atrophied brain in regard to how to post video on a WordPress site, but I’m going to give it my all — because this must be seen to be believed — and a picture will not suffice. If there is no video below, you will know I failed. And IF that happens, I MIGHT consider posting it on instagram… however, I’m still reeling from the backlash I got from posting pics of my cluster canker sores last year and THIS may rival THAT in terms of grossness. (Fwiw, I stand by my canker sores post, Emily. I’m all about keeping it real.)

So THAT footage is of swarms of MORMON CRICKETS crossing the road. It went on for probably 10 miles. It was truly the grossest thing I have seen in a very long time. We didn’t know what they were at first so I googled “giant cricket-like insects near Rangely, CO”… and I read all about the yearly plague of the cricket invasion. It’s both sad and DIGUSTING to drive over millions of giant crickets. (See pic below for scale) The road was RED. It STUNK. And there were cricket guts all over the car and camper. 

And now I will stop talking about it because it still makes me feel sick. But feel free to google it yourself for more ick factor if that’s your thing.

We arrived into Salt Lake City area and washed the guts off the car and camper so we wouldn’t stink up Escapod any more than the neighboring mink farm does already. Despite our trials with the camper suspension, we really do love the team there (and the camper) and are really hoping this is our last visit for a few years! Fingers crossed.

We schlepped around Park City for the afternoon in the heat wave. Had some drinks, some Thai, and then some more drinks. Stayed at a very “meh” Airbnb in a great location. Went to bed.

Did a hike up above Deer Valley in the morning. Had some breakfast. Headed back to Coalville. We were OFFICIALLY on the road by 12:45. 

This stinking heat wave gripping the west is LEGIT. Our first stop was going to be around Boise but the temp was forecasted to be 106. Jennie don’t do no 106 degrees camping. Period. EVER. And, in a rare show of compliance, Dave doesn’t either. So we just kept driving, assuming it would cool off as the night wore on. In so doing, we officially broke our very FIRST AGREEMENT of the trip on the very FIRST DAY. (Agreement #1: We WILL NOT drive more than 7 hours in a day.).

I’m not sorry.

We drove 9 hours to just beyond Le Grande, Oregon where the temperature at 9pm was a nice cool 84 degrees. (That is sarcasm, for those of you who are either new here or simply rusty since it’s been about 10 years since I last wrote one of these.). We simply pulled in, brushed our teeth, put the screens on the camper and went to bed. Everything was hot from the long, baking drive (mattress, pillows, sheets) but as it started to cool off we finally drifted off…

…And woke up around 3 am freezing our asses off because we were butt-naked (see link if you are interested in correct terminology: www.merriam-Webster.com/buck-naked-or-butt-naked) under meager covers and it was a brisk 45 degrees. 

It’s a short-ish drive to the Hood River area where we hope to connect with a good friend/gymnastics teammate of Dave’s for dinner and camp someplace nice-ish — or at least nice-ER than the the dirt turnout we camped in last night.

After that, we plan to get to the coast and drive up to Olympia National Park, maybe taking an extra day… Actually, we HAVE to take an extra day because, after a WHOLE LOT of rigmarole, Dave had two packages sent to Escapod that he needed for the trip that couldn’t be delivered to Eagle in time. When tracking showed delivery had failed, we learned he sent it to the wrong address. So we had to call the local post office to figure it out… blah blah blah. Like I said, a whole lot of rigmarole. It was great news when we confirmed the packages had been delivered the day we arrived in Coalville.

And then we forgot to pick them up. 

So now, we are re-shipping them to an Amazon locker in Washington. But they won’t get there until the 14th. So we have a little recreation on the agenda. Not sure we’ll even know what to do with ourselves. We shall see.

The dirt turnout in the Wallowa National forest was actually quite nice, now that I look back on it (as I am writing these a day or two later — whenever there is cell service). Nice and private — affording us the opportunity to do all the things we have taken for granted in all these years of dispersed camping. Like getting out of the camper naked. The solitude also allowed me to pull out the dumbbells I packed along so that I could say I used them at least once during a two month trip. Since then, and I guess this would be considered a Spoiler Alert, I would have felt like a complete idiot doing my weights in a parking lot of campers. —And I consider this to be the BEST of excuses for skipping my workout in the coming days.

Aside from what is quickly becoming a near obsession with the abysmal gas mileage, the drive has been going well and after puttering around long enough we pulled out and headed to Hood River area to find a site for the next night.

And had our first fight of the trip.

Old Jennie (nickname for Jennie prior to lots and lots of therapy) would delight in writing about this. New Jennie, to be honest, would also delight in writing about this, but is going to try hard to keep it balanced. Not just because I have all kinds of new relational skills and insights and value my marriage, but also because New Dave is actually reading the blog and has, in fact, mass mailed the link to … i literally have no idea how many people. So, the old rules are gone. I can no longer write with abandon and extravagant exaggeration about our fights — which used to truly be one of my favorite Road Warrior blogging activities. I am grieving this loss, and frankly, procrastinating the next paragraph because this is UNCHARTED TERRITORY. 

But, write it I must.

Okay. *slight back story*. Neither one of us are great planners. Dave will say that he actually enjoys planning, but either doesn’t have the time for it or finds himself overwhelmed with information and lost in the options. I simply don’t like it. I don’t like the idea of being pinned down. Having to be somewhere at a certain time. I’m not sure where this comes from but it permeates many areas of my life and I’m trying hard to change it because it is, I feel, really weird. 

So. Because neither of us is the natural planner in the family, we kind of split up the duties. Mine was to research and book the Alaska Marine Highway Ferry and to figure out the route to and from Alaska. Dave’s was to plan our time in Alaska. Shockingly, it worked out pretty well. I mean, I guess it’s still too early to declare that with such confidence, but let’s just say SO FAR it has worked pretty well. However, we had the first test of that TODAY. Hence, THE FIGHT.

I had spent a fair amount of time researching the options for camping near Hood River and landed on what looked to be the best spot given the variables. Of course, you never know until you see it, so I try to hold it loosely. It would be appropriate to now also reveal AGREEMENT #2 of the trip (the first, if you remember, was that we would not drive more than 7 hours in a day). Agreement #2 was that we would not SPEED, since we, 1) have “all the time in the world” and 2) get abysmal gas mileage when we speed. And let’s be honest: we ALWAYS speed. Some of us being worse speeders than others…

After (gently) reminding Dave of Agreement #2 *several* times over the past couple days, the Voices In My Head, told me to let it go. And I did — but let’s add a bit of weight to the little pack on the camel’s back, shall we? So when dave flew past the turn to the Deschutes River Recreation Area (my first choice for camping that night) not once, but TWICE, I was a little stressed out. The temperature was like 98 degrees at noon and the campgrounds we had seen lining the Columbia River along the way were basically black asphalt parking lots with zero shade. So, when I finally laid eyes on The Campground and saw the little shady green oasis that was Loop A — and CLEARLY MARKED on my Gaia map route — I was like, “I am home.”

Of course, we must be FAIR and BALANCED here. Dave does not live inside Jennie’s head. So Dave had no idea that the camel was already carrying a fair bit of weight in the packs, nor does he FULLY understand the affect EXTREME HEAT has on my faculties. So when Dave peeled through Loop A, at about 45 miles per hour in a 10 mile per hour zone, hopped out at the host’s site, despite many, many signs at each site making it clear you needed to reserve online, knocked on his camper door and met just about the crabbiest (and that is putting it nicely) campground host in all of these Unites States of America, he was like, “We can find somewhere better.” And I, practicing all these new life skills, very calmly, replied, “I would really like to stay here.” And he, practicing HIS new skills said “Seriously?!”

Haha. I’m just kidding. I don’t know what he said, but he did drive around Loop A one more time, pausing at A25 long enough for me to confirm it was available for the night. (Online. Like the signs said.) It was. However, there was a SPRINKLER — and, by sprinkler I mean an agricultural-level irrigation device covering the ENTIRE site. So… Dave peeled out again, now testing Jennie’s resolve. Seeing a guy in a golf cart, I rolled down the window to ask him when the sprinkler’s would turn off. 

It was none other than The Campground Host. And he REALLY WAS the crabbiest. In fact, he was a real asshole — and New Dave and Jennie try not to use adjectives like that anymore. When he said (very rudely), “At 4pm. That’s when check in is. And that’s when I turn off the sprinklers.” Dave peeled out for a third time, saying, “We are NOT staying here.” 

I was quite mad.

Things escalated. I said, not very calmly, “Then YOU can figure out where we are going to stay tonight.” And Dave said, “Then YOU need to drive.” And I said, “Fine.” And about 20 minutes later, careening along Hwy 84, ALSO breaking Agreement #2, Dave, overwhelmed by the internet, and frankly, WAY LESS SKILLED than me online, conceded that Deschutes River Recreation Area Loop A site A25 was INDEED the best place to stay. 

Old Jennie would have refused to turn the car around. New Jennie was still a real bitch (and I get to say this because I am writing about myself), but she did turn the car around and did, actually, let it go. This is called REAL PROGRESS, people.

Addendum: after reading the rough draft, my copy editor requested this clarification: “Dave did not know at the time of the incident that Deschutes River Recreation Area had been researched by Jennie, nor that it was marked on the Gaia map route.” I think it’s safe to say that IF Dave HAD understood this, well then… this post would be far less entertaining.

I guess this is still my favorite kind of thing to write about.

Anyway.

We ran some errands (aka we bought some Easy Cheese and beer) and returned to the campground around 2 pm, thinking we would have to wait until 4. But the place had become packed while we were gone. The sprinkler had been moved just enough for us to back in, but not unpack, without getting wet. And wouldn’t you know, the KINDEST 0f park rangers came and moved the sprinkler for us!

We had plans to meet Dave’s friend around 4:30, so we just sat in the shade and relaxed. I wandered out to the river thinking we’d fish, but it was like 147 degrees and the idea of standing in that blazing sun was just not happening. It’s hard to believe there could even be fish alive with air temps like that (but there were and we definitely should have fished…).

Dinner with Colin and Kristen was LOVELY! Their house was SUPER COOL and I got to “ride the swing” off the front porch. It might end up being the highlight of the trip for me. (See instagram for a video of the epic swing ride.)

I don’t think Dave ever fully appreciated that, in my EXTENSIVE route research, I had placed him on the Deschutes River (Loop A, site A25 to be exact), because at some point he said something like, “This is the Deschutes River?”  (I mean… ) And, “I’ve always wanted to fish the Deschutes River.” So, we abandoned the Gaia map route that would take us to the Washington coast in favor of driving south toward Bend so we could do a float trip and really fish it. See? I’m not UNREASONABLE. I can PIVOT. I have absolutely NO PROBLEM with being spontaneous. (When it suits me.) 

We went to bed with plans to leave at 6 am for the fly shop. The wind was absolutely howling. And — despite my extreme distaste for wind — absolutely DEVINE. The campground was like Disneyland. Wall to wall to wall campers, cars, carts, rafts, dogs, crying babies, generators.

Inexplicably, we slept like babies.

If you remember, we diverted from The Plan and are now heading south to fish the Deschutes River with a guide and a boat. Interestingly, on this stretch of the river, you are not allowed to fish from a boat. You float the water and then get out and wade fish. We were totally cool with that and were looking forward to spending a day on a river that Dave “had always wanted to fish” — but didn’t seem to know that we were camping on.

In the course of planning the float trip, we decided to camp at the fly shop because they told us over the phone it had shade. Who knew that those simple words would ever hold so much sway for us?l It’s truly the only thing that matters right now. DOES IT HAVE SHADE? Yes? Done.

It was — and I am not kidding or exaggerating here — 109 degrees at the take out point at 4pm. It was 106 degrees at camp. Remember “Jennie don’t do no 106 degrees”? That is now a false statement. Jennie does. Jennie did. Jennie don’t like. 

The fishing was … not great. It was still fun. It is a beautiful river. The guide was a really nice guy who grew up in Minnesota. The water was clear and cold — very different structure and vibe of rivers in Colorado, which was cool — but the sky was an unrelenting blue, the air was a furnace and the fish were scarce. It became a long day. At some point, Dave had realized he lost his license somewhere along our travels so far and was pretty bummed about it. The guide never stopped talking (and not about fishing, which we would have welcomed), and we were just really, really hot. 

We learned about the assassination attempt on the drive back to camp and all the feelings that came with that news. By the time we got to camp, we both needed some alone time. I grabbed my chair and embarked on a very hot walk about a half mile to the river and set myself up under an over-hanging tree in the water and tried really hard not to let the thousands of caddis moths landing on me gross me out too much. Because aside from that, it was truly heaven. The water was cold enough to make my feet numb while the wind that blew across my face was hot enough to dehydrate rosemary. I’m not kidding. That’s the temp I set my dehydrator at to dry fricken’ rosemary.

After Dave did what Dave needed to do to decompress, he joined me in the river. And even brought me beer on ice! Ahhhhh. We tried to wait out the sun before heading back to make dinner, but it was almost 8pm, so we faced the furnace and headed back. The next hour was tough — though the dinner was AMAZE. Gotta give a shout-out to my garden broccoli which was transported in our carry-on all the way from MSP and then survived another week+ in a cooler and was eaten tonight and SWOONED over.

After the sun went down, we were able to take showers and cool off in the “Camp Showers” — repurposed side-by-side Satellite Port-A-Potties — which were actually quite nice. (Maybe we fried some brain cells today?)

Dave somehow defied nature and the heat and got to sleep quickly, but I had to wait the heat out a bit more. Happily, the wind picked up to help the situation out and I finally fell asleep around 11:30, lulled by the mind-number sound of trucks whizzing by on the highway below us.

When you go to sleep around 8 pm, you tend to wake up around 4 am. And Dave is no exception. When you go to sleep around 11 pm, you tend to want to sleep until around at *least* 6 am. And I am no exception. But do you see the problem here? There is no “sneaking out” of a teardrop camper, so I, too, am getting up (or at least waking up) at 4 am. And I don’t like it.

Thankfully, it did finally cool off a bit over night and the morning was quite pleasant. We had some coffee, breakfast, and watched online church at Westwood since we had a decent cell signal and then packed up and hit the road. 

Given how far south we were in relation to the original plan, we opted to head to the Oregon coast and drive north from there. The morning heated up quickly — hitting 100 before noon. Oregon was baffling to me. I had never been before and, in my mind, it was all lush Pacific Northwesty. This, it is not. However things DID start to change as we went through the Willamette Valley. 

We stopped at a winery — I mean how can you not? We picked…. Well wait. I should say DAVE picked one — unbeknownst to me — while DRIVING. Which SHOULD be Agreement #3 but ISN’T because it should not need to be a formal Agreement. Agreed?

Anyway, he saw two options on his google maps that were less than a mile off the highway and we went to the first one: Lumos. It was AMAZING! And it was COOL — both “cool” as in HIP and “cool” as in NOT HOT! We had a sangria and a rosé as well as some bread with spreads. We also grabbed some chicken from the cooler because we have to eat everything before we cross the Canadian border and we’ve got a lot of work to do in that department. It was a LOVELY diversion. 

Dave is doing way more than his share of the driving. WAY more. I think he thinks it’s his contribution since I do basically everything else. (Let’s see if this gets by my copy editor.) He drove all day, really. As we went over the “pass” from Willamette to the coast (pass elevation of 5,128 ft) the temp dropped to 52 degrees. That’s more than a 50 degree swing in a matter of hours. It felt great. 

The coast was great. And then, honestly, I’ve seen enough of the coast. I got to walk and run in the water, watch a crab dig under the sand and get my hair whipped around. Awesome.

Then I had to get every grain of sand out from between my toes. Not awesome.

I could not live on a beach. Nor do I want to camp on a beach. I think maybe I have become the ultimate weirdo in my old age. 

More driving as we went back and forth and back and forth about what route to take to Olympic National Park. Which, by the way we have been calling Olympia National Park for all our lives. Not until today did we realize it is Olympic. And honestly, I’d like to petition a name change. You’ve got nearby Olympia, no doubt where we got the Olympia idea. You’ve got Mount Olympus at the center of Olympic National Park… ??? I mean, at the VERY LEAST call it Olympus? But whatever. I’ve got this blog to write. I don’t have time to petition the government. And no, I’m not going to make a joke about the government here, though I am sorely tempted. 

We finally landed on NOT going to Astoria (to see the mouth of the Columbia River), so we headed inland toward Portland along the very scenic Wilson River. (Remember, dear reader, we also have an AMAZON LOCKER to stop at near Seattle.) As we craned our necks and salivated at the amazing trout water we also noticed more and more cars on the turnouts along the river. “Ah HA!” We exclaimed! “Finally, signs of fly fishing pressure like we see in Colorado!”

But as we neared our camping destination for the night, we kept catching glimpses of what looked like a veritable carnival in the water and lining the banks. Scads of people. SCADS! (Such a great word.) Floaties, tubes, chairs, boom boxes (yes. Actual boom boxes). Babies. Overall-wearing men…

I cannot exaggerate this. It felt like we were on another planet. It was 6 pm on a SUNDAY NIGHT for heaven’s sake! Don’t people work? Apparently not in Portland! Haha. I’m KIDDING. But seriously. It wasn’t even hot and there were more people than we could count at every bend in the river acting like it was 110 degrees. …I’ll show you 110 degrees…

We did our best to ignore the un-ignorable, drove past them, trying to keep our jaws off the floor and did our usual cruising of the campground loops, in this case A, B and C. Inexplicably, given the SCADS of people, it was nearly empty. We settled in and got to making some dinner. 

I don’t have the energy to tell another Dave story and do it the justice it deserves. Suffice to say, we will not be using the grill that is STRAPPED TO THE TOP of the camper (and seriously compromising our FUEL ECONOMY) because we don’t have the regulator. But that is OK because chicken thighs on the stove basted with butter is a FINE COMPROMISE.

Good night from the Rockin’ Wilson River, OR.

This is a beautiful – and very strange – area. I don’t know if it’s me, my age, my general hermitage life, but when did people get so weird? There seems to be a much higher density of weird people out here. I don’t know how else to put it. And it’s also sad (really sad!) to see how people treat nature. We walked down to the river as it got dark last night and there was so much garbage. Dirty diapers, plastic water bottles (why are these even still being made?), toilet paper, broken glass. Ugh. 

There was also the strangest thing going on in the mostly empty campground. We have tried so hard to figure out what ON EARTH was going on — definitely some type of scam or way around paying — but for the life of us we couldn’t figure it out. It just left us with that whole, “Let’s get out of here” vibe. We didn’t even eat breakfast. Just coffee and a chat with a weird campground host. But that wasn’t weird cause most campground hosts are weird. That’s why they’re campground hosts. 

No breakfast meant a much delayed Road Warrior ritual: Egg McMuffins FTW! (At a weird McDonalds for what it’s worth). 

More driving. Lots of driving. It’s what we do. We drive.

It’s hard work, though our Apple Watches don’t seem to want to give us credit for it. I am more exhausted after driving all day than when I hike 8 miles and spend my day with boots on the ground. Seems unfair. Apple Watch should have a Drive activity.  

There isn’t much to report in the way of vacation activity for the day. We definitely drove more than we needed to, due to my distaste for backtracking. We should have backtracked. Dave wanted to backtrack. Oh well. 

One of the things that has been absolutely dogging us since starting out is the refrigerator in the camper. Due to a problem we had last year, I had to re-route the electrical. And now, the connection for the electrical is ridiculously erratic. It’s been super stressful, especially with such hot weather. On our drive today, we stopped to get some new hardware so I could go after it. —Among my many and varied talents is a strange affinity for electrical work. (Though I think it’s less talent and more a disregard for danger. )

We went more out of our way than we needed to for a decent spot to stop (because we wanted SHADE). And, of course, it took way longer than I thought it would. I couldn’t use the stuff I had just bought. I pinched my hand with the pliers and now have an angry red blister… but… I think I fixed it! My confidence is growing each time I open the back hatch that, once opened, the fridge will, indeed, still be on. 

So we drove on.

We had delusions that we might be able to find a spot to stay along the Washington coast, but one turn into a promising campground on the map turned out to be more shocking than the circus in Wilson River. It was a cacophony of campers and just… total chaos. I physically recoiled. No possible way. We peeled out so fast I didn’t even get a picture.

We drove on.

And headed toward what we know best (besides driving): 4WD roads in national forest. We knew we wanted to see the Hoh Rainforest in Olympic National Park, so we headed up the road toward that and veered off onto a dirt road and found a decent spot to park it for the night.

We took a nice little walk (finally getting some exercise) and had another RIDIC dinner. The only problem being that the STEAK I brought from home was actually fricken’ lamb chops. Who eats LAMB CHOPS camping? Even I am embarrassed about that. Given that we no longer have a functioning grill, Dave got to work finding wood for a fire (our first of the trip!) — and harder than you might think, given we were in a rainforest. Injured himself chopping it up. But redeemed himself in the grill mastering.

And the mosquitos were baaaaad. I fired up the Thermocell I had the presence of mind to bring with from MN. I even had the foresight to order replacement fuel for it ahead of time. I could not believe how well it worked! Wow! Amazing! It gives me hope for Alaska…

I seared a head of cabbage from MN to go with the lamb that was — and I’m starting to think it’s just cuz we are camping — THE BEST WE’VE EVER HAD.

We do way more talking about food, Dave and I, than almost anything else, so it’s in our nature to rate the meals so far — and while our rankings are different — the veggies have been the stars of the show for sure. Yum. But sadly we are reaching the end of those. We are not supposed to bring any fresh meat or vegetables over the border to Canada, so we’ve got to eat them fast. I still have one head of cabbage and lots of Napa cabbage to get through. 

Dave says we have to also drink all the wine and beer and vodka, and I am working hard to comply. 

Today’s itinerary includes something other than driving. We are visiting the Hoh Rainforest to take a hike on the river trail. 

We drive a bit and see very few cars. So it is with utter confusion that we start seeing signs saying “Parking lot full. Expect waits exceeding one hour” lining the road every few hundred feet like signs for Wall Drug in South Dakota. It was 9 am. Could it really be full?

Eventually we reached the park gate where there were six cars ahead of us. They were moving slowly — seemingly paying and proceeding — so that was good. When it was our turn we paid $30 for the privilege and proceeded toward the visitor center. We rounded a bend to utter chaos. Where on EARTH did these people come from? The lot, the roads leading to the lot, the overflows were all full.

However in an unexpected turn of events, the OVERSIZED parking was OPEN! You had to be an RV or a car with a trailer to park — which we are! When does that ever happen?

I don’t like crowds. And I REALLY don’t like crowds when I’m hiking. But that’s what National Parks kind of are. I thought I was prepared, but I guess I wasn’t. The good news was that the river trail was the least trafficked of the three options. It still lots of people but it was tolerable. 

I know sound like a total hypocrite. It isn’t lost on my, I assure you. I mean *I AM* a visitor. What makes me special? Nothing. I know that. I’m just telling you what’s in my crazy head.

Dave and I were trying to remember when we last visited a National Park and neither of us can remember — which oughta tell you something. 

After we finished our hike (very nice but nothing over-the-top special), we stopped at a turnout to make some lunch. It was during this sojourn that I finally agreed with Dave’s continual and unending obsession with the state of the Bronco hitch. He had been going on and on and about it since leaving. And I finally said, “Yeah. It looks really terrible.” I had not told him that since I had begun SECRETLY obsessing about it maybe 24 or 48 hours earlier. I didn’t TELL him because I didn’t want to 1) admit it, and 2) add to his obsession or 3) have to deal with it.

Adding insult to injury, we just REPLACED the 4Runner because of how it towed the camper. How can we STILL be having problems towing the camper? The Topo 2 camper is not like some behemoth. It’s 2000 dry weight with 250 lb tongue weight. While the Bronco isn’t like a pick-up; it’s not made to be a towing vehicle. It still has a 3500 lb towing capacity with a max tongue weight of 350. And we aren’t anywhere near that!

You may remember from Alaska 1, the first post, that Dave had literally JUST replaced the hitch receiver on the Bronco. When he brought it home the day before we left and hitched up the camper, the hitch went straight out. It was perfect. In fact, the spare tire just barely hit the ball as the gate was swung open. Now, it had more than 2” of clearance. What this tells us is that the hitch receiver has bent once again. Originally, we thought the Bronco came with a bent hitch receiver from the factory. But we know that when we started the trip the replacement hitch was straight. So it has definitely bent since we left – a seriously FREAKY situation. 

Much, much googling and research ensued. 

And where we have landed is that we (but really he because I haven’t had a lot to do with the Bronco), greatly underestimated the affect the 12” hitch extender impacted the hitch capacity. We have the hitch extender so that we can open the stupid back gate on the Bronco. It is HUGE and LONG and HEAVY! Opening that gate and risking it hitting the camper and cracking the fiberglass would be no bueno — though online I found plenty of people on forums carving idiots like us up for being so “incredibly stupid.”

I found a calculation online to figure out what our actual tongue weight/hitch capacity was with the set-up we were using, and I think we have determined we overtaxed the Bronco hitch. So it’s our fault. BUT SERIOUSLY. All this tells me is that the Bronco is all show, no go. Like a lot of the guys that drive them. Not Dave of course. Just an observation.

Dave is now saying, “I guess I’m just gonna have to get a pick-up.” And I have just kept my head down, on my computer, writing this damn blog. Nothing good can come from me responding to this. 

Guess what we did next?

We drove.

And drove and drove and drove.

And when there was one bar of cell service we googled hitch repair places. And Bronco forums. And when there wasn’t, we talked about the hitch. It was a really fun day. 

We drove all the way around Olympic National Park. At the very top we drove out to a spot called Dungeness Spit Recreation Area, assuming it would look like all the other beachy-type campgrounds we’d see so far, but oddly it was very quiet, not ON the beach and kind of cute — in a Florida/brackish way. (Forgot to take a picture). So we picked the most secluded spot and I made a crazy concoction of ingredients and called it a pasta for . I’m so sad I forgot to take a picture!! Here is a list of what all went in to it:

Italian sausage, onion, peppers, garlic, cherry tomatoes, Napa cabbage, Rosé, fresh mozzarella, Parmesan, penne pasta. 

I’m going to patent it. 

We wandered out to the bluff, just steps away from our spot and watched the sun set over Vancouver Island while I forced Dave to play a game of cribbage to keep him awake until 9pm (the time of the sunset). And you’ve just got to see this:

We had the SAME HAND! He led and every card he laid down, I played the same one (for 2 points each). Have you EVER heard of such a thing?

The sun set and we were asleep less than 15 minutes later. I’m telling you, driving is hard work!