Road Warriors

RWGHE: Upper Frying Pan River, Day Two

May 19, 2023

4/29/2023

We had a great night sleep and a great breakfast. Then we went up past the reservoir to fish the Upper Frying Pan. There were a couple campgrounds which I knew were closed but we still thought we should check them out. We parked at the first one and fished the river right off the campground road. The river was quite clear, a little thin, and the rocks were more slippery than I would expect for early spring. Dave fished up from me and got a few — browns, which totally surprised us. He was yelling something at me but I couldn’t hear a word so I made my way closer. I stepped off the bank into the water and fell over – that clear water is so deceptive! I thought it was like 8″ deep and it was more like 18″ deep… I filled my waders with water and got soaked. I spent the next 20 minutes undressing, emptying my waders, etc. etc. Thankfully, it was sunny and calm so I wasn’t freezing. When I finally waddled up to Dave to find out what was so imPORtant, I learned he just wanted to tell me that he caught a couple fish. Good grief.

I did eventually catch ONE. (Also a brown.) So that was good.

We went back to the camper to nosh and were surprised to find two pickups that had just arrived to open the campground up — or so we thought. It was actually the campground host coming to see if HE could get in there and stay yet. He was very nice and we chatted for a long time. He said there were a few turn-offs we could camp at a few miles up the road, so we took out the bikes and rode up to check them out. We saw a couple good options, had a nice ride, and in the end decided to simply stay where we were–by the gate of the still-closed campground–knowing that IF the host came back, he wouldn’t care.

I made a a bizarre dinner of pasta, pesto, sausage, garbanzo bean, cauliflower, pine nut, Parmesan. Does that sound good? No? It was fine. Not my greatest concoction, tbh. But you have to understand: we have this back-and-forth thing from Minnesota to Colorado and back down to a science. We are (I am) EXPERT at cleaning the fridge out and almost NEVER throwing ANYTHING away. Not kidding. It’s a bit OCD if I’m to be honest. If not OCD, then let’s call it a genius-level hobby. And that, my friends, is how that meal came to be. It sounded better in my mind than it looked in the pan. But it tasted fine. and I think Dave actually liked it.

The best part of dinner might have been the vodka tonics for me.

4/30/23

Another Surprise: When we woke up it was 27 degrees.

Our wading boots were frozen bricks. Dave thawed them out by the fire and we had avocado toast while we waited. Eventually we were able to get the boots on and hiked a couple miles up beyond the campground to some very nice bends of the river we had spied from our bike ride the day before. The water looked amazing.

We fished it hard. Dave said he saw two dart from the bank–super spooky-like. Our guess is that they were there, but just too spooked to bite. Actually… to be honest, I can’t even say I believe that. Maybe they go down to the reservoir until it warms up? Like Minnesota snowbirds? I dunno. It was so quiet and peaceful and pretty, I was enjoying just that aspect. Easy walking in the river. Warmish. And good snacks in my pack. Eventually, I heard Dave somewhere very distant yelling some indiscernible stuff (once again) and I assumed he was ready to go. And, Of COURSE, right at that exact moment, a nice fish came to the surface and ate my dry fly! HOURS of fishing and the ONE SECOND you take your eye off the ball, hollering your fool head off at your missing husband… #@!^%$! It was on for a few seconds and came off. Still fun though.

I eventually found Dave in the willows – easier said than done — and we hoofed it back to the car, posting-holing through deep snow for long, trying sections. Nothing worse than trying to stay on top of snow, thinking you’ve made it and falling two feet down. Over and over again.

Eventually, I will stop extolling the amazing delight of not having to pop-down the camper. And then pop-up the camper upon arrival home… the Topo2 is just really fun. And easy. And we are still glowing and crowing at being able to just drive away with it.

Interesting fact: as the crow flies, our house in Eagle is only up and over one ridge, about 30 miles away. There is a (currently closed, of course) forest road that connects the two that we’ve driven two or three times. But today we head back the way we came. As we drove by, now a Sunday afternoon, the lower Frying Pan River was up to its normal tricks with all the turn-outs holding a car or three with lots of fishers in the water. Gorgeous weekend.

Road Warriors 5. Conclusion!

June 30, 2014

August 19th 2013

So, yeah. Apparently my journal ended yesterday.

What can I say. I’m getting old. I don’t give a rat’s ass anymore. But still. It’s always just a little shocking for me to realize just how little I actually remember. I always think, “Oh, I’ll remember that.” But aside from some snippets, I remember very little. Maybe it’s a good thing. I used to argue endlessly, with anyone, about anything, because I KNEW I was right. 100% locked. I was right. They were wrong. How long do you want to argue? I can argue longer.

(And no, Mom, you don’t need to leave a comment and tell the whole world how accurate that statement is. Let’s just keep them guessing: maybe she’s exaggerating again?)

Nope. Not exaggerating. Ask Dave, Morgan, Charlie, My mom, dad, brother, former teachers, coaches, friends, ex-boyfriends. The only people who might not have an opinion would be strangers.

So anyway, this new insight into my lack of memory is actually serving me quite well. I never knew relationships and conversations could be so smooth. Why? Because I realize I might actually be wrong. So this is how the other half lives… interesting.

I am digressing because my journal is empty. I have no fun stories written down to share. So I’m using my pictures to clear the cobwebs. This is how I remember it. But should any witnesses want to flesh out the details. I won’t argue. 🙂

To conclude our trip, we drove to the “MUST SEE” falls near Thunder Bay: Kakabeka Falls. It was right near our campground, so we went early and did a quick in-and-out.

They were big, alright.

But let’s just say not quite what I expected.

Well, Dave not smiling and looking 7 day-beard-scary; that I expected. It was just the Mississippi brown color I hadn’t bargained for.

We crossed the border into the US and immediately the car fell into silence as the phones turned on and began searching for signals. And then the repeating soundtrack of Charlie: “AT&T sucks. Dad? Do you have any bars? Mom, does Dad have any bars? Do you have any bars? This sucks.”

And so on and so forth for about 75 miles.

We stopped to eat/shop in Grand Marais. Now THAT town understands traveling tourists, ay?

After hot weather, it was suddenly windy and cold!

That's Jan Koo underneath the hair and blanket — That’s Jan Koo underneath the hair and blanket

Next stop Duluth.

Koo’s got a hotel and Menke’s drove through Duluth to Jay Cooke State Park to secure a campsite. It was pretty quiet and we got a nice spot all to ourselves. We made our last batch of delicious pico quac — fresh tomatoes, avocado, cilantro and devoured it. We all took showers, too… ahhhhhhh.

On our way back to Duluth, we stopped to see the ravages from the flash flood last year, which took the old bridge out. Pretty amazing to think that lazy little brook could have been so violent.

We went back to Duluth and met up with Jan and Wes for a drink on an outside deck while the kids walked around. It’s always fun to re-enter civilization, but was especially so this year after being in Canada for so long. We just didn’t expect our trip around Superior to be so… desolate and remote feeling. We thought we’d be in the midst of cafes and restaurants the whole time. So not the case.

We ate at an amazing swank restaurant, the name of which I cannot remember and do not feel like trying to figure out. I do know it was attached to something like a sausage/dried meat place. Very gourmet. Kids were in HEAVEN.

And so was I

Every meal was a winner. But no one could be quite so happy as this one.

It was a great night and a great end to the trip.

We headed back to our little camper with plans to leave in the morning.

We got up early and stopped at Toby’s for a throw-back breakfast. Really average. How did that place get to be so famous? It had to be based entirely on the cinnamon rolls.

when it's over, it's over. — when it’s over, it’s over.

So that’s a wrap, everyone. We hope to cobble something together for this August, but with Charlie working and in soccer, Morgan living in Madison and also working, it’s going to be tough.

It could be the end of an era.

Is that a tear I see rolling down your cheek?

Road Warriors 5, day 6

June 13, 2014

Don't touch my pastie — Don’t touch my pastie

August 18th, 2013

[sadly, I have no photos from this day, so I’m just throwing some random ones in from the day before.]

Slept like a rock!

Got up and sat on the beach again, drinking coffee. The kids came out and we talked and talked. It was beautiful.

Jan made the most delicious blueberry pancakes. Yum. And also spicy potatoes with sausage. Yum Yum.

We packed up and hit the road at 11 am, stopping for a short hike to see the Agawa pictoglyphs, which involved a dicier-than-anyone-expected traverse across slick rock holding on to chains drilled in to the rock walls while cold waves crashed at our feet. This would not be legal in the U.S.

Stopped for lunch in White River Park — a long drive in to a fairly ugly campground. We ate the last of our RIDICULOUSLY DELICIOUS grilled/smoked spare ribs that I made in lieu of fried chicken to eat in the car, grab from the cooler, etc. The ribs were a huge hit — they became a bit like the rice krispy bars (long gone, may they rest in peace). We thought by going in to the park we’d find a pretty picnic area, but instead we found a gross and uninspiring playground and boat launch where we ate things from the cooler that no one was real interested in (except aforementioned ribs). Ick.

It’s ironic our lunch spot was so dismal, because the scenery from the car over the past two hours has been jaw dropping. Just so, so beautiful. Easily the best of the trip.

Also jaw dropping is Canada’s lack of charm regarding anything — and I mean anything — man made. The towns. The houses. And most notably, the hotels and motels. They are all cold-war era Russia in appearance. It is really, really weird. Are there NO entrepreneurs in Canada? No ambitious restauranteurs who dream of living up north and catering to travelers? It’s twilight-zone material. Like a nuclear bomb killed everyone in 1961 and we are the first people passing through since.

OK, OK, I’ll stop. But really. Anyone got any insight into this? The beauty of this area in fall must be amazing…

We arrived in Thunder Bay at 7:30 pm. Did I mention the cities are ugly? Oh my gosh…

–But I was looking very forward to arriving in Thunder Bay, regardless of it’s lack of curb appeal, for one reason and one reason alone: WALMART AND THE MOONCHAIR. The thought of writing the whole saga of the quest for this chair is a bit overwhelming, but I shall try:

Background: I bought two $15 Moon Chairs on impulse several years ago while at the WalMart in Buffalo. They became the most coveted chairs of all time and the cousins often bickered over them — not to mention me, trying to muscle the kids out so that I could curl up in their cozy goodness.

Our beloved moon chairs, in better days... — Our beloved moon chairs, in better days…

Well, the chairs were not really made for hard-core camping and they finally broke last season. First, I tried relentlessly to fix them. And failed. So, for the past 10 months, I have been obsessivelysearching for them online. One day, I hit the jackpot: apparently Walmart in CANADA continued to carry them. I called the Walmart in Thunder Bay, and they had ONE LEFT. The sales associate said they were not allowed to hold them — nor could I purchase and pick up later — but that I could just look it up online and see if the chair had been sold. This, I was not happy about, but even after long debate the sales associate remained firm.

All throughout this road trip, I have been looking it up whenever Dave’s phone had service. As we got closer, and the Moon Chair continued to be available, I got more and more excited. What a coup this would be!! Dave finally dropped me off and I all but RAN to the sporting goods dept. to pick up my chair.

But of course, it was not there.

Ever wander around a Walmart looking for help? Suffice it to say, I was in Walmart far longer than the “I’ll be right back,” that I lobbed at Dave as I hopped out of the car five minutes earlier. Dave was SO mad at me. —But at least *I* couldn’t have fallen over a waterfall, ay (as they say in Canada)? Maybe he was picturing the plot from “The Vanishing” when Sandra Bullock disappeared without a trace from a gas station while vacationing with Kiefer Sutherland….

ANYWAY.

No one could find the chair. I was obsessed, I was MORE obsessed than Kiefer Sutherland in The Vanishing. Workers confirmed the chair to be in the store. But no one could tell me where. What would YOU do? I looked for it. Eventually, I gave up. I bought some chicken thighs and left. My plan was to come back the next day when the “A” squad was back at work and presumably the woman I talked to on the phone.

After eventually finding Dave, who had disappeared deep in the bowels of Walmart to save me from Jeff Bridges, we left to find our campsite. We drove 20 minutes to the campground to set up. The plan was to eat out in Thunder Bay, but let me tell you: this was not a single inviting prospect. –Even coming from 8 people who hadn’t eaten out in over a week.

We/I decided to pull green curry together for tonight (ha! I KNEW we would end up using it!) and eat out tomorrow — perhaps in Duluth, part of the good old U.S.A). Wes had begun dropping hints that they wanted to bail on our last night of camping in favor of staying at a hotel in Duluth, so dinner there just might work out.

We had a fabbie meal, had copious amounts of marshmallows (Jan & Lydie) and listened to our very loud and drunk neighbors through the woods. They partied nearly all night. Losers.

Oh well, it just makes leaving that much sweeter.

Road Warriors 5, Day 4

May 12, 2014

August 16, 2013

I took breakfast, which was a success — the egg bake turned out great, which defied all odds. First, I realized that Dave’s mom’s recipe called for flour, which I did not bring. In my defense: never in all my cooking years have I made an egg bake that uses flour. I also apparently needed baking soda. Nope. So I, master of all substitutions, used some of Jan’s pancake mix. Which worked awesomely. Cooked it in the cast iron pot over the fire. Now THAT’S camping, people. We also had fried potatoes and bacon.

We packed up around noon after a short hike around the campground (which I had failed to investigate at all, but which was quite pretty. Wes found an intimidating mushroom, which I am fairly certain graced the cover of my dad’s mushroom book that I used to look at when I was a kid. And if I am right, is quite poisonous. Dad? Can you elucidate?

Always eat unidentified mushrooms. Survival of the fittest, and all.

We stopped for Michigan’s famous pasties at Muldans as we headed out of town. We “sampled” the chicken and ground beef offerings. The ground beef was the unanimous favorite even though the chicken sounded way better on paper. Go figure.

Muldon's pasties are approximately the size of my head, fwiw. — Muldon’s pasties are approximately the size of my head, fwiw.

That is not Dave Menke, you crazy internet stalkers.

Another stop for gas and bread (I no longer try to make our bread stretch 10 days, much to the relief of everyone, including me) and we were off, seeking our next stop at Lake Superior Provincial Park.

…And also seeking cell service. AT & T? Not so good when compared to Verizon on this lonely and long stretch of road. We go hours with nothing but blips, while Dave talks away merrily, solving the midwest’s real estate problems… [Those tables will turn eventually in our favor, but I am getting ahead of the story. ] Sit back and I will spin a yarn of family togetherness, love and peace.

Kidding. It’s always hard to get going on this damn journal again.

Dave has driven this whole trip, just about. It is AMAZING!! I love it! I grew up taking long family road trips and literally my dad drove fricken 26 hours straight. Oh, yeah, yeah. My mom will probably chime in here and try to say she drove too, but if she did, I do not remember it. And if so, it was an hour here, an hour there. Imagine my disillusionment with my new husband 24 years ago when he could make it barely three hours before having to turn the wheel over to his blushing bride, lest he kill us both by falling asleep at the wheel.

I mostly hate driving. I basically want to sit and read and read and read. –For when else do I ever have the ability to do that without guilt?

NEVER. NEVER. never never never never NEVER!

So anyway. I love this. I love it i love it i love it i love it!

We crossed into Canada in Sault St. Marie. Wow. What an ugly city — at least what we saw of it.

Bridge to the border crossing in Sault St. Marie

All the phones got turned to airplane mode with many tears of regret and sadness. Dave, of course, did not intend to either buy an international plan OR turn his phone off. [This is just some weird attribute of Dave that I am done trying to change. Inevitably it bites him in the butt and I just try to be there to pick up the pieces.]

–Like the time we were on the train going from Barcelona to Madrid and he was happily pecking away on his iPad. I assumed he was on the free wireless when I received a text (on the free wireless) saying someone on my plan had consumed copious amounts of international data (copious=more than $200). WTH? I had forgotten that his iPad was on MY plan. His phone, being Verizon, is not on my plan. So I don’t really care how much international overages he wracks up.

Ironically, Dave’s service was cut off shortly after crossing the border and took days to straighten out. Ahhhh. Peace and quiet in the car!

Dave? Dave? YES… It’s US: your FAMILY. Welcome to CANADA. We are on VACATION. You don’t remember getting here? Well RELAX. Have a DRINK. ENJOY yourself.

(and he did.)

Immediately, upon leaving the city of Sault St. Marie, the scenery became unbelievably majestic. It felt like we were in the mountains — the Suburban changing gears as we climbed steep inclines surrounded by jagged rock. Crazy!

Beautiful scenery on drive to Lake Superior Provincial Park

I don’t think I’ve mentioned how blue-green the water is [though you probably have seen the pictures from kayaking]. It is so clear! It feels like the ocean. Honestly, it’s really hard to believe we are just north of Minnesota.

It was a spectacularly beautiful drive to our destination of Agawa Bay Campground, where we had reservations. We pulled in — I can’t remember exactly. 3:00? 4:00? No, I remember now. It was after 5, because before we could start unpacking, Jan and Wes came over very sour-faced and sad “ISH! This place is like the Ghetto! We can’t stay here!” [and yes. i really do need all those exclamation marks.] And so, a contingent trooped back up to the check-in building to try to get more private sites and determine our options. I remember it was after 5 because I was on for dinner and I remember thinking if we moved, we wouldn’t be eating until well after dark. [and yes. i really AM writing this entry days later and hence the fuzzy memory. this journal-writing blows.]

Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because we ended up staying put. There really weren’t any other options unless we wanted sites that backed right up to the highway, which was very noisy and busy.

And even then we didn’t eat until after dark!

We had rib eye steaks cooked over the campfire with big bakers (potatoes), and eggplant and zucchini from the garden. soooo good! And worth the wait.

The ghetto campground? Well, you will just have to wait until day five!

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 Four. Day Four.

August 27, 2012

Monday, 8/6/12.

“Did you take a dump in my bathroom?”

Yes, folks, that was probably the first words out of the ever-rested Morgan Menke’s mouth this morning.

Good morning to you, too, honey! Morgan has taken ownership of the outhouse here at Miner’s Lake Campground. “It’s clean. It smells good. And there are no flies.”

But, apparently not so much this morning. And she — for some reason — blames me for that. I take no ownership, for what it’s worth.

Dave fried up the leftover baked potato from our Rib Eye dinner the first night and force-fed it to Charlie. He didn’t have to work too hard at it, as Charlie will eat anything that has Lawry’s on it when we are camping. Though he pronounces it “Lories.” We had forgotten about the banana bread until this morning, tucked as it was under the bin in the cooler that holds the fragile items like tomatoes, soft cheese, etc… So we toasted several pieces of that for breakfast. –a BIG improvement over eating it sliced cold.

After the obligatory feeding of the wildlife and another visit from Mr. Fox, we started packing up to leave. Much like in year’s past, we are udderless — mostly without direction — divided in our opions of which way to go next. Not surprisingly, Morgan is the loudest dissenting voice. She desires “majestic mountains.” But really, who doesn’t? And I find that, much as I want to, I can hardly disagree with her. Secretly, I keep wondering how we ended up where we are. Don’t get me wrong, it’s very pretty. I’m having fun. No complaints. I just wonder: there aren’t really any big distinguishing features to the area…

When I ask Dave (as nonchalantly as possible — these men can be so sensitive!), “So how’d you pick this place?” He doesn’t have much of an answer other than that we’d never been here before. Fair enough.

Dave had been studying his maps last night and this morning and had earmarked the Hamilton/Wisdom/Head North for our next leg, since the one thing we knew we wanted to do for sure this year was to fly fish on a river. The Bitterroot Valley is one of “thee” places to do that. So, from Jackson, we went north to Wisdom, west over Lost Trail Pass, past a ski resort of the same name, and on up to the Bitterroot Valley. Pretty road, but then it quickly and suddenly gave way to a very, very big burn area near Sula. I’d like to have looked a lot of this stuff up online, but we seriously continue to have no cell coverage at all. It’s shocking. No Verizon (dave). No AT&T (me and the kids). I’d like to say how awesome it is to be totally unplugged — in many ways it is — but in all honesty, I’m just as bad as my kids. I’m not a texter, but a life without Google is not a life worth living. So remind me to google “Sula fire” when I get home.

[ MONTANA FIRES: Federal and state land management organizations recognized the wildfires of 2000 as historic in both extent and duration. Through late September, more than 79,700 wildfires scorched over 6.8 million acres of public and private land. This exceeds the 10-year average of 66,120 wildfires and 3.1 million acres burned annually. The number, size and intensity of these wildfires stretched land management suppression resources to the limit, threatened entire communities and caught the attention of the public and media throughout the world. The suppression effort was likely the largest peacetime mobilization of resources in our Nation’s history. The U.S. military provided valuable resources to the suppression effort.]

We stopped at a ranger station and got very little info on campgrounds. Some ranger stations are great, some not. But they all have bathrooms, so it was not a total waste of time.

North just another 20 miles made a world of difference in the scenery. We checked out a few campgrounds. One was closed for beetle damage repair. Another was oh-so-depressing. The third, up the Nez Perce Road was called, unbeknownst to us, a “group camp”, which is never good, turned out to be OK. We found a solitary site away from the the big group camp area that backed up to a little creek. Not too shabby!

We set up camp and by the time we were finished, we realized our folly. We were camping in Hell — aka a horse camp. Black flies and black ants EVERYWHERE. Morgan was wild-eyed and freaking out. It was entirely too hot to even consider moving elsewhere. We soothed our nerves (as we stomped our feet and flailed our arms) by telling ourselves it would get better as evening progressed. I remembered an ancient can of Raid in the camper that has seriously been in there since maybe before we even took possession of it more than 10 years ago. I sprayed the “Circle of Death” on the ground all around the picnic table and fire ring, which took care of the ants, more or less. The flies, not so much.

We decided to bring our chairs, books and many, many snacks down to the creek and relax and to escape the flies which were surely so bad because of the horse poop so near to our camp.

Only they weren’t any better there at all. Odd. Creepy. Makes me think there are dead bodies in the woods somewhere.

We all doused ourselves in Repel 100% feet. Who knew they even made such a thing. 100% deet? Is that even legal Who on earth would by something so toxic? Why did we buy it?

Nevermind. We used it. No one died. We were thankful to have it.

It was an idyllic afternoon, if you could get past the satanic flies.

Some of us did better than others. And after a ridiculous amount of snacking, which included but was not limited to: beer, pop, cowboy caviar, salt and vinegar chips, trail mix, cambozola, and maybe even a special K bar.

I started cooking dinner: Spaghetti with 4-cheese (provolone, cambozola, mozzarella, parmesan!) bread and arugula/tomato/mozzarella salad. Yum.

Morgan spent as little time outside the camper as possible. I must say though: aside from the flies, the site was awesome. The camper fit into this perfect little camper-sized grotto (see pic above) of trees which kept us nicely shaded. It was totally private, no one around. You could hear the babbling creek. Beautiful! Just a little Hellish at the same time.

The plans were to fish the next morning with Osprey Outfitters — meeting them at 8:30 am in Connor, MT after buying licenses, and of course, loading up our texts and emails in the 1 mile stretch of town that provides cell service!

Oooooh. So. Full. No dessert for me. No dessert. …well, maybe just one Baby Ruth… And then to bed. Once again, no headlamps were necessary as we were all in bed by dark.

Road Warriors Four. Day Three.

August 22, 2012

Sunday, 8/5/12

Charlie was the first up and had a fire built. I, of course, thought it was Dave out there. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I rolled over and he was laying inches away from my face, still sleeping. Yikes. A very odd occurrence, indeed.

Morgan, who went to bed at about… oh… 7:30 pm was the last to get up. I clock her at about 16 hours of sleep.

We lounged around most of the morning. Dave made some hash browns — the kind from Costco that come in a little milk carton you fill with water and then put in a fry pan. They apparently have an expiration date. yeah, yeah, yeah… THEY’RE FINE! That’s just a ruse. When is he going to start believing me?

Meanwhile, I got an egg and Charlie toasted a ciabatta bun, which might be a little too thick for his standard campfire technique, but do absorb an impressive amount of butter, which more than makes up for the thickness.

Eventually, we made some sandwiches and headed off in the car to the Continental Divide trail. It took us 20 minutes to drive three miles to the trailhead on the 4-wheel drive road, nervously testing the new Michelins. Dave was lamenting, yet again, the fact I hadn’t gotten the “big-ass knobby ones”. When I reminded him that less than 1% of my driving is off-road, he insisted that I still should have gotten the big ones and that the next set would BE the big ones.

First, don’t be telling me what kind of tires I’m going to be getting on a car I don’t even want in the first place. And, second, …there is no second.

I countered that there wouldn’t BE A NEXT SET. I reminded him of the deal we made a year and a half ago when we bought this Suburban: when Morgan goes to college, I get to kick my 16 year Suburban habit. Dave’s look told me a lot — like maybe he would be trying to, yet again, talk me out of our deal. No way buddy. We don’t need two huge SUVs, period. Correctly, he swallowed his words and instead asked, “So, what kind of car are you thinking you’ll get?”

“A small car. A wind-up car.”

He just stared straight ahead and pretended I hadn’t said anything at all — clearly perturbed.

Wait. That’s how he always looks. Never mind.

It was quickly determined that we wouldn’t be hiking the Continental Divide trail, since it was an 18 mile hike.

[Note the bag Charlie is carrying. For the LOVE of GOD, WHEN —when?— will Dave Menke stop making us carry fishing equipment on long hikes? At least now I have children I can force to do it instead of me.]

We headed instead for Rock Lake — a six mile hike. It was also quickly determined that Morgan wouldn’t be joining us. I began to suspect that she intenionally mutilated her feet to avoid hiking. I wouldn’t put it past her…

It was a hot and dusty trail. I don’t have much good to say about it, except that it made for some funny conversations with Charlie on the way up. We couldn’t help but comment about the absence of the Reluctant Hiker. We were certainly going a lot faster than normal (sorry Morgan!) and had some chuckles about that… The hot dust inevitably led to the a comparison with the Sperry Glacier trail that we did in Glacier Park several years ago. It was record heat there — in the 90’s, as it was today. That trail, too, was a horse trail with random horse poop and flies. (I’m making this sound worse than it was, but still.) Charlie said, “I HATE horseback riding. I hated every single horseback ride we ever went on.” —Seriously? “I hated every single minute of every single ride.” No way! Could Charlie be developing the exaggeration gene? When I told him I didn’t remember him hating it so much he said it was true.

Apparently, even when he was little he was “on edge.” and, “always stressed out” on “dangerous trails” worried when those “stupid horses stumbled.” I don’t know why it made me laugh so hard. The idea of Charlie being stressed out on a horse… it just made me laugh. –There was this time he almost got hit by a truck crossing the highway to get to a trail [a seriously bad deal of which he was completely oblivious at the time] which may have planted some deep-seated unease about the dangers of trail riding , but that’s a long story. [Maybe someday I’ll pull out all the journals and eventually post them all here. Like prequels to Road Warriors.]

The payoff — the lake — was very pretty.

We were so hot and sweaty.

Incredibly, Dave was the first to go in the water. [I have the pictures to prove it, but am forbade from posting. I’m sure they’ll show up — unintentionally — on the AppleTV, which auto-syncs from my computer. And that will be a grave day indeed. However, about damn time there are a couple incriminating ones of Dave, since there are plenty of me, which pop up at the most inopportune times and which I cannot find in the thousands of photos on there to delete and which torment Morgan to no end.] I followed, while Charlie freaked out on us. We couldn’t talk him in to the skinny dip club though. We lingered at the lake for about 45 minutes

[with our clothes on. it was all very tasteful.] and then headed back down.

At the start of the hike I had told Dave to, “Go at a good clip so we get a workout.”

Seriously, I didn’t know the guy with the bad hip could walk that fast. He’s certainly never done it with me on the gravel road at home. I was spent. He hasn’t ever out-hiked me before, but he did. And it made me pretty crabby to be bested. We power walked, even running at times, all the way back down to the bottom. Charlie and I tripping and stumbling to keep up with Ibuprofen-Enhanced Dave Menke.

Morgan welcomed us back to the car well-rested, well-feed, well-read and well-movied. Not well-networked though, because there is no cell service here. Ha!

I couldn’t figure out why she jumped at the chance to ride with Dave to Jackson for ice. I thought it was so nice of her. But then I realized it was to retrieve messages and get a few of her own out to the world beyond. [We later learned she also talked “daddy” into an ice cream cone.] While they were gone, Charlie and I split some Cambozola and ridiculously good Rosemary Raisin crackers from Trader Joes while I nursed my crabby with both a Bud Lite and a vodka tonic. Dave had handed them both to me as he left.

He’s a prophet.

After a proper amount of sulking and snacking, I started chopping stuff for tacos. I had realized we forgot to bring shredded cheese before Dave and Morgan left, so they were picking some up. Only Jackson didn’t have any shredded cheese. Just blocks. So I chopped it, which worked surprisingly well and made the natives very happy.

After a disproportionate amount of ribbing directed at Charlie for being “dramatic” about injuries and life in general, we finally tipped him over. It took about two hours to get the old Charlie back. During this time, I reflected on my own character flaws and came to the conclusion that I’m pretty mean. This isn’t new information, of course, but there is no sugar coating it. You gotta have thick skin to share a table with me. Charlie — bless his heart — still doesn’t meet the grade. I want to be clear that this is a virtue rather than a flaw.

I am happy to report that by sunset, Charlie had returned to his happy self. My job is done here. There will be plenty of egos to bruise tomorrow. I will need my rest.