Road Chronicles

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

The Ride: Phase 2



From Goodell Creek, we began the first and most grueling climbing session of the trip. That day, Wednesday June 4th, the itinerary called for roughly 4500 feet of elevation - up to Rainy Pass at about 4800 feet, followed by a devilishly heartbreaking descent for 1000 feet, and then the final grind up to Washington Pass at 5477 ft.

Of course it was still raining when we awoke the morning of the 4500 ft. climb. This did wonders for our spirits. There were no services for 75 miles, so we pulled into the final convenience store before the pass and ate stale corn dogs and taquitos for breakfast. Our shoes were damp from the day before and still the mist and rain saturated our weary bodies. But we had to press on. Early on, we passed through two dark, humid tunnels that bore through gnarly rock faces in the lower Cascades. We had to press a button at the tunnel entrances to trigger flashing lights, indicating to automobiles that there were bicycles present in the tunnels. The first few miles were irritating. I kept shedding and then donning different layers of clothing in hopes of reaching a comfortable core temperature, but my efforts were in vain. Gradually we got used to the steady grind uphill at a difficult, but possible grade.

The scenery was breathtaking. All around us towered snow-covered peaks and waterfalls of snowmelt cascading down hundreds of feet of mountain. It was cold but we couldn’t feel it through the sweat and toil of the ascent. We stopped frequently to rest and take pictures of the range, and marveled at the beauty that formed as we climbed higher. We passed a dam and kept climbing. It felt as if we would never reach the top.

Sometime during the early afternoon, the sun poked through for a brief time, and we actually started going down. We knew in the back of our minds that we couldn’t possibly have made it to the pass yet, so each mile of coasting downhill was a dagger in that we would have to make it up eventually in reaching the pass. Even so, I had the distinct naive feeling that maybe we made it to the top already and were truly on the way down. I became giddy with the idea that we had crossed the Rainy and Washington Passes without realizing it. My heart shattered when we began to climb again several miles later and the sun vanished again.

I began to get nervous as we climbed higher and higher, since the number of cars on the road seemed to decrease. It got to the point where we’d see one car every half hour. What if something went wrong and we couldn’t continue? We’d surely freeze to death up here! These were some of the scenarios that played out in my head as the grueling ride ground on. Finally we reached the first desolate pass – Rainy Pass. The name said it all. It was definitely still raining. I dismounted my bike and looked around in all directions. It was silent. The mountains really have a way of making you feel insignificant and helpless in the scheme of things. We took in the vast hills of snow-covered pines, inhaling deeply the scent of pristine forest. The first pass gave us a sense of great triumph. We slapped hands and became confident with our progress thus far. Sure, it wasn’t the high pass, but it was a pass labeled on the map nonetheless. Our brief moment of celebration quickly passed and it dawned on us that we still had a ways to go before the downhill coast. I don’t think we even took pictures at Rainy Pass, since we knew what heartbreak loomed ahead.

From Rainy Pass, we descended rapidly at a very steep grade. Our sweat froze to our bodies as we cut down the mountain. My teeth were chattering and morale was very low. We knew when this downhill section ended it would be followed by another 1000-foot climb. I became angry at the world during this final stretch. It felt as if the pass would never come. The trailer began drag mercilessly, like a pallet of bricks with no wheels. I had serious doubts about my ability to pull it the rest of the trip. Here we were, not even three full days into the 2-month tour and I had doubts.

Blair and I yelled, no, screamed encouragement to each other as we churned our legs slowly, like pistons up to Washington Pass. This was the true test. Could we handle it? We would not face a more difficult stretch on the tour. After awhile, we began to be certain that every turn would produce the Washington Pass elevation sign. We prayed for a leveling and drop-off of the road, and it seemed like it would never come. We waited for the final turn, the green sign – and finally it came. “Washington Pass: 5477 ft.” We made it.

We took turns photographing each other under the Washington Pass sign until we got cold. It is important to keep moving all the way down, to keep the blood flowing and the body temperature up, we learned later. But now we were too exhausted to try and pedal down. We threw on every layer we owned in the forty-degree temperature and mist, and bombed down for at least 30 miles – which took about an hour compared to the 6-hour climb. Too exhausted and cold to enjoy the descent, we concentrated on getting to the bottom as fast as possible, to the nearest hotel. Both of us hated the idea of having to resort to a hotel, but we agreed at the pass that tonight was as good a night as any to cave in.

Signs for the Mazama Country Inn popped up as we zipped down the mountain and it was mutually understood that we would be spending the night there. I reveled in the thought of a hot shower and warm bed. We were 13 miles short of where I hoped to be that night, but we were more than pleased with what we’d accomplished. The Inn had a restaurant that was still open, and we quickly tossed in our orders. I wanted the biggest cheeseburger the cook could make, along with a cold Guiness and one of the local Fishtale Pale Ales for good measure. Blair ordered a massive Asian chicken salad and a beer as well. The cook got to work on our meal and we were shown to our room. The food would be ready in 15 minutes so we threw down our stuff and changed out of our spandex. The desk lady informed us that there was a hot tub and I almost kissed her. We got back to the restaurant and devoured our meals like ravenous wolves. After dinner, Blair went to lie down, and was feeling a bit under the weather. I took the rest of my Guiness and had a long soak in the hot tub. My muscles relaxed as I slouched as low as possible into the spa. The tub was outdoors so I was able to breathe the thick, cool Montana air. The worst was now behind us, but there was still the other three passes in the next three days.

...While recounting this leg of the journey, I am sitting comfortably in a blue armchair in the corner of Dave and Brittany’s cozy bungalow in downtown Missoula. But that's another story for another post. Thanks for reading.

The Ride Itself

Thanks for your patience. I will now recount the beginning of the ride.

Day 1: Monday, June 2nd.

We planned to hit the road at 9am, to safely avoid the morning rush hour. By the time we mailed post cards and packed everything, it was more like 11am. We didn't care; we were finally on the road. It was decided that I would pull the trailer the first day, and we would alternate every other day thereafter. I was nervous as hell dragging that thing through downtown Seattle, praying we would get going without a hitch. The magnitude of the madness on which we were embarking had fully set in, and it was exciting to know we were carrying everything we needed to survive by our own power.

I stopped at a starbucks on the way out of town and picked up some grounds for my new coffee press - the dark, rich product of which has become a tenacious addiction each and every morning.

We continued north, battling construction and narrow bicycle lanes, eventually meeting highway 20 - the rode that would take us over the North Cascades and into Idaho. We made 20 miles before stopping for lunch on the lawn of some suburb. Everything was perfect. The bikes were performing well under the load, as were our legs. Our destination for the day was Sedro Woolley, 80 miles north of Seattle, where we would hook up with the Northern Tier Route that would take us to Glacier.
We set a steady pace through green, wet, rural Washington pastures and lush forests. Dense, green foothills began to spring up in front of us, and we became nervous about the days to come. We would face four mountain passes in four days - the most brutal climbing stretch of the tour. The climbing would begin on the third day, giving us little time to prepare. But the current focus was on where to spend the night once we reached Sedro Woolley. Northern Washington stays light until almost 10pm, so we had plenty of daylight if we could only find the campground. Approaching Sedro Woolley, we came to the Skagit River. There was a bridge across to get into Sedro Woolley, but our route remained South of the river, on a road that runs parallel to it. There was a campground marker on the map, but the wonderful folks at Adventure Cycling placed it at the exact center of the river, brilliantly failing to denote whether it was north or south of the river. The next bridge over the Skagit was 40 miles east, so we needed to make a crucial decision – To cross the bridge now and possibly miss the campground if it is south of the river or risk missing it by taking the south road if it was indeed north.

At this moment of momentous decision, Blair had the first of many "educated guesses," which I would soon discover are not educated at all. From what I could tell, there was no rhyme or reason for Blairman choosing one option over another, unless he is privy to some higher source of intuition to which I am unaware. So Blair guessed the campground was south of the river. "It has to be," he said. So we rode past the only bridge for 40 miles in search of our campground. After two miles of nothing, I said there's no way in hell there's a campground on this side of the river. Blair agreed and we turned around and crossed the bridge into the town of Sedro Woolley. We asked around and found the campground on the NORTH side of the river. The campground host informed us that it would cost $10 for a site for the night. In all of our packing frenzy that morning, we had completely spaced o obtaining cash from an ATM. Between the two of us we scrounged up $7.93, and she reluctantly gave us a site. Oops. We set up for our first night in the tent and everything was beautiful, until it began to pour at 4am. We stayed dry thanks to the excellent tent provided by Blair's dad - (Thanks Glen!)

It was still raining when we awoke, and we dried things as best we could on the picnic tables at the camp shelter. The sky showed no sign of letting up, so we donned our rain gear and set off for Newhalen - The base of the North Cascades Range. It rained steadily all day long, with no pause as we set up the tent in Goodell Creek Campground, just inside North Cascades National Park. Somehow Blair got a fire going, (I am repeatedly amazed by his woodsmen skills), and we attempted to dry our soggy shoes and gloves near the blaze. We eventually warmed up thanks to Blair's fire, and cooked spaghetti for the second night in a row. I was astonished at how much we were eating. We cooked everything we had and were still hungry. It was then that I realized how many calories we must be burning riding all day.


The Goodell Creek campsite was beautiful, even in the rain. Our site was on the creek, which was more like a raging river due to the influx of spring snowmelt. It was densely covered by all sorts of foliage and had a huge redwood near the back of the site.
We loved the site, but the rain was really putting a damper on things. We met a father and daughter who had been kayaking in the San Juan Islands near British Columbia, and were driving home to the Midwest through the Cascades. They were very friendly and gave each of us a beer before we retired for the night. We would see them again several times during our passage through the North Cascades. It was nice to have someone who knew we were out there and could direct rescue teams to our general vicinity if the need should present itself.

Friday, June 13, 2008

Check out New Sequoia Pictures Below!

Seattle


Blair took the first shift at the healm, and managed to get us lost 30 miles outside of Pine Grove. He straightened out after an hour and blasted off toward Seattle on a 14 hour drive. Not much of note happened on the drive, and we were both eager to see Seattle and embark on our bike trip. Finding cousin Maryanne's was easy. We parked the car and went up to the roof of her condo and talked to her and boyfriend Mike over beers.
Talk about great location - Maryanne lives right downtown, almost directly under the 605 ft. Space Needle, and a short walk from the famous Pike's Place Market and both the Mariners and Seahawks stadiums.

We went to breakfast the next morning at the 5 Spot Cafe, a Seattle must. I had a shrimp and Avocado Omelette and about 6 cups of delicious, Seattle coffee. To be continued, I am being kicked off by the mean Library Nazi! In MT, more soon...

Thanks to the help of a wonderful angel who works at the Libby, MT chamber of commerce, I am able to resume my blogging from the chamber office. I stopped by to ask if there were any internet cafes in town. She said there were none, but I could use her computer here in the visitor's center. How nice.

Back to Seattle... So after stuffing ourselves and filling our nervous systems with caffeine at the 5 Spot, Maryanne drove us around the different Seattle neighborhoods, stopping at parks and overlooks, and of course the city-famous Troll Under the Bridge, some community art project my cousin Lucy would really dig. It was very cool. The huge sculpted troll has a real volkswagon beetle in his clutches and is raising it to his mouth to consume. This whole scene takes place under an overpass.

We spent the afternoon wandering through Pike's Place Market. What a vibrant, exciting place. Young men at fish stands throw the freshest fillets back and forth, chopping them up to be sold to gawking tourists. Rainbows of fresh fruits and vegetables line the aisles. Indie girls with short hair and thick rimmed glasses walk around in khakis and chacos searching for organic produce. I watched Blair take it all in. He was loving the different people and panhandlers playing instruments for change. Other cities may try to do the whole market thing, but none will ever hold a candle to Seattle's. The vendors continue outside for blocks and there was a truck full of black gospel singers in pin-stripe suits, belting out soul. It was a Saturday afternoon and the place was crawling. You could hardly walk. We ducked into Kells Irish Pub for an afternoon Guiness, and Maryanne and I discussed respective futures and the states of our parents, etc. We made big plans to rally the entire family for the Waupaca Triathalon next summer, and assigned different legs to different aunts, uncles, and cousins. Hopefully we'll be able to work it out and make it happen. If you're family, take note. The triatholon is next August. Better start training now. Maryanne and I were in the midst of discussing this when Blair ordered two shots of Bushmill's Irish Whiskey - one for him, one for me. He toasted to the trip and we had whiskey at 2pm. I said I don't know if that was entirely necessary at this point in time, but then again, I've never been one to look a gift drink in the mouth. We walked back to Maryanne's condo and planned to go to Mass at 5pm, after Blair and I went to the Seattle REI store to see about some last minute camping odds and ends for the trip. Suddenly everything we saw, we needed. We gradually got over the excitement of wall to wall camping gadgets and focused on items we actually needed. Thinking ahead to Glacier and Yellowstone, we picked up some hiking packs for backcountry hiking. I also picked up a French-press coffee mug that I use every day. We threw the packs on and hiked back to Maryanne's to get ready for church.

After church we drove around until we found Laurelhurst Park, which Blair was dying to see. One of his favorite authors, Don Miller, spent a lot of time in the park, apparently. We walked around the park and caught a glimpse of Lake Washington, and drove to Mike's house (Maryanne's Mike) to pick him up. Mike's garage door was open when we pulled in and my jaw dropped as I stared at his silver Porsche Carrera. I thought Mike was really cool before I saw his car. Man! nice catch Maryanne! We went to dinner at a pizza place called Serious Pie, and it was seriously good. From dinner, we walked to Fado's Irish Pub, where members of the Brazilian Soccer team were hanging out after a game in Seattle. I have no idea why they were in Seattle. Haven't seen sportcenter in awhile. Usually I have a strict policy against establishments that want me to pay a cover charge, but I ponied up the 5 bucks to see some live local music. We got in and ordered beers.
The band was called "The Boys of Greenwood Glen" - a drinking band with an Irish problem. They played terrific old Irish drinking songs and the bar filled up with dancing Seattleites. Mike and Maryanne left and Blair and I eventually made our way back to the condo after walking down to the pier to take pictures of the skyline. Everyone slept in the next morning and we walked to an afternoon Mariners game at Safeco Field. It was no Miller Park, but we did eat sushi at the game. Safeco is the only ballpark in America that sells sushi, and it was sure good. We had fish for dinner at this place on the water called Ivars Salmon House. I had the most delicious halibut. After dinner we drove to Gastworks park and then went to bed early since Blair and I planned to leave at 9am the following morning.

I had a blast with Maryanne and Mike. It was so nice of them to take a weekend and show us around their cool city, picking up meals and drinks left and right. I am truly blessed to have such fine relatives.

After Seattle, my contacts had run dry. From here on out it would be just Blair and I fending for ourselves on the open road. We were very excited, yet nervous to begin.

Rental Car Trouble and Pine Grove, CA

The day after Sequoia, great uncle John drove us to the Fresno airport to pick up our rental car, which I had reserved to drive to Seattle. I was worried there would be some sort of hassle with the company because I am under 25 years of age with no major credit card. Boy was I right. The agent on the phone said I could use my debit card, but the agent behind the desk had a different opinion. I gave her my card; she arbitrarily typed a few numbers into the computer, and said "the computer won't let me process your order because you're under 25." One of my greatest pet peeves is when humans use computers as an excuse to deny people service. I mean really, you have no power over that plastic box in front of you? You're completely enslaved to its processes? Of course there is no manual override in which an actual human being is forced to make a rational decision. Where's the man behind the curtain!?! Sorry for the rant, but that is the weakest excuse a person can give. Realizing there was no way we were leaving the airport in the car I reserved, we tried the next desk over. Luckily Hertz rents to 22 year-olds with no credit, so we said goodbye to Uncle John and sped to Pine Grove in our Nissan Xterra, which cost an arm with the added underage fee. (I thought once you turn 21 there are no more underage fees.)

We made fantastic time to Pine Grove as we blew by acre after acre of meticulously cared for wine-grapes and other California fruits. Sean and Michelle both work at school, and their two kids Derrick and Natalie were not playing hooky that day, so it was no surprise that no one was home when we arrived an hour before school let out. I attempted to gain access to the house, but re-evaluated after Sean and Michelle's dog Abigail threatened to tear me limb from limb. Okay, maybe we'll just hang out on the driveway and tinker with our bikes until they get home. Michelle's folks live right down the street, and Bonnie stopped by to welcome us. A bit later, Michelle's dad Roy came over to hang out for awhile and let us in the house. We talked about where we'd been and where we were going. Roy offered us a beer from Sean's fridge - not yet, but he looked up at the sky, stated that it was after noon, and cracked one open. I liked Roy. He showed us the outdoor kitchen he and Michelle were working on. It looked like a great place to throw a packer party. I'll have to return during football season. Soon Sean and family got home from work/school and Sean and I drank Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and caught up on his deck. Derrick did back flips on the trampoline and tried not to land on his little sister bouncing below. Sean told me how it happened that he became a permanent resident of California - taking a year's hiatus, bartending and substitute teaching, when the local school district offered him a full time position. He accepted, took some administrative courses on the side, and is now Principal of Sutter Creek Elementary.

After we chatted for awhile, Sean started the grill for the delicious tri-tip dinner. If you've never had tri-tip beef, marinated perfectly by a California meat market, this is reason enough to take a trip west, for tri-tips are only available in California - to my knowledge. Sean grilled a mean tip, and Michelle cooked delicious potatoes and sweet corn on the cob! This was a feast fit for a king and we thoroughly enjoyed it. I had a really nice visit with Sean, Michelle and the kids, and am very glad we had the opportunity to stop. We spent the night and left with them in the morning, taking the leftover tri-tips for road sandwiches.

Monday, June 9, 2008

Sequoia National Park


As I said in the Tulare Post, mom's cousin Tom Greisbach was nice enough to take a day off work and drive us up to Sequoia National Park in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Tom picked us up at Mike Lampe's at noon on Wednesday May 28th, and told stories about his side of the family the whole way there. I discovered how extraordinary my great-grandparents were - with Grandpa Lampe starting the Lumber company and grandma keeping the books but still finding the time to teach young black girls in a time when that was mostly unheard of. A few of her children and grandchildren have run into former pupils who still sing grandma's praises, saying if not for her they would never have gone through college. I had no idea about all this rich family history out west, and am glad to have had the chance to learn all about it.

After stopping at Fr. Johnny's retreat center, we continued through the town of Three Rivers at the base of the mountains, where supposedly some movie stars have secluded vacation homes, and gradually made our way up the winding road to Sequoia.
It was beautiful. The higher peaks were covered in snow, and Tom explained the different seasons of the different elevations. It could be late spring at the bottom of the mountains, but winter and early spring the higher up you get. The vegetation changes depending on the elevation and there are many different micro-climates, each supporting an array of different species. We drove up and up, looking out the window at green, jagged mountains. The first stop was Hospital Rock, an Indian pictograph site in which Indians nursed a white explorer back to health. The red ink figures are still fully visible on the side of the huge boulder, which had come to rest thousands of years ago.


We continued the ascent until great Morrow Rock came into view above us, with clouds fragmenting upon contact and drifting over the top. We elected to come back to the rock later in hopes of the fog clearing for a better view. Soon we entered the Giant Forest, which is the exact elevation and climate for monstrous redwood trees.
Sequoia is home to the largest trees in the world and I couldn't believe the size of the small ones! Most of the trunks are charred and split at the base of the trunk, evidence of the trees having survived various forest fires over thousands of years. The spongy bark can be two-three feet thick and is fire-retardant, which explains why these giants are still standing. We parked and walked the trail to General Sherman, the largest tree and living entity on the planet. There are taller trees, but nothing rivals Sherman in mass. Neither words nor pictures can describe the magnificent presence of Sherman. The size and beauty of these leviathans must be experienced in person. Sherman is over 2200 years old, and over 100 feet in circumference. It is 36.5 feet in diameter and 180 feet tall. The largest Branch is 6.8 feet in diameter. We took pictures in front of Sherman, marveled at him, and piled back in the truck to go climb Morrow Rock.

As we climbed the rock stairway, we felt the clouds rushing through us. It was cold and misty, yet soothing as I breathed in the moist, mountain air. Every so often, there would be a break in the clouds and we could see the valley and road on which we came up. It was too foggy to see the 14,000 ft. high peaks across the way, but it was still incredible to stand out on the cliff and peer over the edge. The final stop in Sequoia was Crescent Meadow, which John Muir called "the gem of the Sierras." Sequoia is full of John Muir quotes and stories. The naturalist and writer once climbed to the top of a tall tree in a thunderstorm to revel in the natural beauty of the wilderness around him. Madness - I had found a new hero. Anyway, the meadow marks a break in the forest roughly the size of a football field, in which lush, emerald grasses grow out of saturated swampland. Across the middle lies a giant fallen redwood, where my great-grandfather had his picture taken decades earlier. Tom took my picture at the same spot so we could send it to Grandma Griesbach in Wisconsin. The afternoon sunlight struck the meadow producing electric shades and colors.
Tom said the Sierras were called the "range of light." I fully grasped what he was talking about. We walked around the glowing, heavenly meadow and paused at a trout stream where Tom used to fish. Small speckled trout still fought against the current under the small bridge. Blair vowed he could catch one with his bare hands, but Tom and I were too hungry to wait around for such a futile exercise.

Starving, we began the long descent through the park, stopping frequently to examine beautiful dogwood flowers and rare, red snow flowers. Tom was close to entering forestry school some time ago, so he was able to tell us the names of every plant species we encountered. We stopped to photograph a black bear, a mangy coyote, and a half- dozen mule deer. Tom took us out for a delicious, fancy dinner at the Gateway restaurant in Three Rivers. There was outside seating on a deck that was perched over one of the three rivers, and I ate sautéed scallops as it rushed below us. It was so nice of Tom to take a day off and show us the beautiful park where he spent so much time growing up. When he explained things, his face would light up with joy -making it easy to tell how much he truly loves this place. His kindness and generosity will never be forgotten.

Sunday, June 1, 2008

Tulare and Visalia


Mark drove us to Paso Robles to meet my great uncle John Lampe, who would drive us two hours to his home in Tulare, CA. It was here, in the denny's parking lot that we would say goodbye to Mark. Having crossed the country twice with Mark and his trusty Ram pickup, I can confidently say there is no better road trip companion. I'm going to miss him.

My grandma's family on my mothers side were Okies who moved to Tulare, CA in 1937 seeking a better life after the depression - straight out of a Steinbeck novel. My great-grandparents started the Lampe Lumber company and most children and grandchildren worked for some time at the saw mill. My grandma came to Marquette University by train when she was 16 years old to study journalism, and ended up staying. Th rest of the Lampe clan remains on the West coast. Great Uncle John, my grandma's brother, hauled lumber from the Sierras to LA for over 50 years. On the ride home he told stories of spending an entire day cutting down one giant redwood, making a soft bed for it to fall on, and quartering the fallen tree lengthwise in order to load it onto the trailer. I liked uncle John immediately. He was in excellent health for 80, except for an absessed tooth for which he would have to see the "god-damned dentist" the following day. He told us about his children, and riffed about the mass ammounts of wine-grapes we drove past in the central valley. John argued that there is no difference between a $6 bottle and a $60 bottle. He said his son Mike thinks he knows a lot about wine, but he's really full of shit. I liked uncle John.

When we arrived at John's house, his sweet wife Joyce opened the door and immediately offered us a beer. It was almost 3:00pm, why not? Joyce had arranged for most of the family in the area to gather at her home to meet me, one of the long lost relatives from Wisconsin. Great Uncle Tom and Aunt Joan soon arrived followed by their son Paul, and John and Joyce's daughter Susie, with two of her kids. My grandma's sister katie married my grandpa's brother, so there is a line of double cousins. Tom Griesbach is one such cousin. He told stories of hiking with my Wisconsin Uncles in the mountains. Tom arranged to take us up to see Fr. Johnny the next morning - another of my mom's cousins who had become a priest and director of a beautiful retreat center in the foothills of the Sierras. We visited awhile and ate a couple pizzas with Uncle John over an intense conversation about politics.

John and Joyce drove us 10 miles to Visalia after dinner to stay with their son Mike, who has plenty of room for an army in his family's enormous home in a gated community. Uncle John told the security guard at the gate he had to drop off a couple jailbirds. Blair and I both got our own rooms and bathrooms, and marveled at the beautiful home. We were introduced to Mike Lampe's stepson Nick who was a Junior at Fresno State, and his younger son, Caihlen. Nick took us for a pontoon boat ride in the man-made lake behind the home that was more like a canal offering views of the other ridiculous estates in the neighborhood. Mike and Cindy were away at a concert, so we had the place to ourselves. We had a couple cocktails with expensive rum and talked to Nick. Mike and Cindy didn't get home until after we crashed, so I had yet to meet our host.

The next night we returned home late after seeing Sequoia and eating a delicious dinner in Three Rivers. That expedition is deserving of its own posting, since it is so beautiful and magnificient. Mike and Cindy were in bed when we got in, so I met Mike Lampe for two minutes when he let us in, and that was it for the two nights we stayed at his house. Uncle John picked us up the following morning and drove us to Fresno to pick up our rental car. I'm very glad I had the opportunity to meet my Grandma's family in California. They were extremely kind and generous.

General Sherman: The Largest Living Thing in the World

General Sherman: The Largest Living Thing in the World

Giant Forest, Sequoia

Giant Forest, Sequoia

Sierra Nevadas

Sierra Nevadas

Welcome to Sequoia

Welcome to Sequoia

Indian Pictographs at Sequoia

Indian Pictographs at Sequoia

One of Fr. Jonny's Paintings

One of Fr. Jonny's Paintings

Fr. Johnny's Retreat in the Sierra Nevadas

Fr. Johnny's Retreat in the Sierra Nevadas

Street Painting, I Madonnari, Santa Barbara Mission

Street Painting, I Madonnari, Santa Barbara Mission

Fr. Virgil Painting

Fr. Virgil Painting

Man Hands, I Madonarri Street Painting, Santa Barbara Mission

Man Hands, I Madonarri Street Painting, Santa Barbara Mission

I Madonarri

I Madonarri

Some Chick

Some Chick

Fishin With Goebel

Fishin With Goebel

Goebel's dad cleaning fish

Goebel's dad cleaning fish

Blair's Haircut

Blair's Haircut

Von Dollen Chickens

Von Dollen Chickens

The Group at the Grand Canyon

The Group at the Grand Canyon

Trail Crew Bunkhouse, Indian Gardens, Grand Canyon

Trail Crew Bunkhouse, Indian Gardens, Grand Canyon

Me and some Mules at Indian Gardens

Me and some Mules at Indian Gardens

Hiking Down to Phantom Ranch

Hiking Down to Phantom Ranch

Blair. Down for the Count

Blair. Down for the Count

Camp Stove Grilled Cheese

Camp Stove Grilled Cheese

About Me

a tent, between the pacific ocean and WI, United States
I started writing this to keep friends and family posted about my adventures this summer.