Redwoods: Great Sages of the West, according to John

Oh wow, it's been a little while since the last post.  In that time we've encountered the some of the largest and oldest beings on the planet, worshipped with one of the oldest traditions of Christianity and cursed the name of San Francisco.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.  The Redwoods are the first place to start.  Our time with these ancient beings began along the coast near Crescent City.  Just south of the city is a small beach called Crecent Beach and there is a nearby trail that lead into a nice old growth area.  Because the trail is not dog friendly, this worked very well for us because while one of us took the trail, the other could beach-bum it with Seymour all day.  The first day was Amber's, and I'll let her tell you about that.  My first day was on the beach and it was the picture of relaxation.  I spent my time wandering the beach with Seymour, taking in beauty and basking in the sun.  Throw in a nice book and a shady van to escape the sun and I was happy as a clam.  I met Amber at the trailhead at around 6:30 and we had a nice dinner looking out across the ocean.  By the look in Amber's eye and the tired limbs she had, I knew I was in for a treat the next day.

(a smaller Redwood)

And a treat I got!  After a bit of an uphill climb along the coast, with it's wind shaped trees and vast community of spiders I made my way to a little bit of a wider path and all around me were giant trees.  It is hard to describe the effect seeing these trees has and pictures certainly don't do it justice.  Suffice it to say that when I entered this magical place, all I could think to do was sing every sacred song that I knew (and being that I was a Catholic seminarian, I know a few ;) ).  These great trees, who have lived longer than my human mind can really imagine give a sense of endurance and security in life unlike anything I've experienced.  They fill the heart with song and the still the wandering mind with their stability and incredible stillness.

The next day was spent relaxing and making our way down to our second trailhead.  We had meant to go to Gold Bluff Beach, because we had read that it was another haven for the puchums dog, but found that the road leading there was very steep and that the park charged an eight dollar entry fee.  We would have none of that so we settled on the nearby Elk Meadow.  And what a fortunate choice that was!  Unlike the Crescent Beach Trail, the Trillium Falls Trail heading out from Elk Meadow did not require an arduous hike through spiders and dense growth to get the wowing effect of the Redwoods.  The wow started right away.  As soon as you enter the trail you are faced with a gorgeous waterfall and many Redwoods.  The trail had recently been renovated by a local youth group, so it was very cleared of overgrowth and freshly paved with new dirt.  Along it were several benches dedicated to various contributors to the park overlooking stunning groves of Redwoods similarly dedicated.  Although the trail is only about 2 1/2 miles, one can easily spend several hours meandering through in amazement.  And that's just what I did.  I made sure to take full advantage of the benches so as to take in the beauty as fully as possible. Again, it is hard to describe, but if you take the time to still yourself, the trees can speak to your heart and open it in ways that were perhaps scary or inaccessible before.  Their patient endurance and persistent growth throughout the ages are truely inspiring.  I felt a joy on this trail unlike anything I had experience prior.  The next day was Amber's turn and as you will see in her account, the Redwoods are truely great.

Our next stop was Mount Tabor Monastery near Ukiah, CA.  This had been a place of retreat and much spiritual growth for my mother before she passed away in 2007.  Hidden away down a long dirt road, I found it to be just as I remembered.  We were greeted heartily by my mother's friends Dorris and Dave who live in a house just outside the monastery.  Dave immediately fed us a fresh salad and corn on the cob (yum!) and Brother Andrew (the smiliest man you'll every see) set us up with a couple of rooms in the retreat house.  The next day we attended Matins and Divine Liturgy early in the morning with the monks.  Although a long service, it was very refreshing to encounter the mysteries with the forms and symbols which had been so close to my mother's heart.  After a modest breakfast, Father Joseph, my mother's best friend in her last days took us around the monastery, catching us up on old times and gave me a copy of my the book my mother had written on death and dying he had editted and gotten published.  That evening we were treated by Dorris and Dave to a feast of barbequed chicken, salad, potato salad and french bread (a welcome change of pace from our trail mixes and ramen noodles!).  Being that everyone was so hospitible, we decided to stay another night and after attending Sunday Liturgy and eating so many berries we thought we'd explode we headed out on the road again.

(After driving in circles through confusing detours, the only place we seemed to find to see the bridge from was this cemetary. Given the negative experience we had, it seems appropriate.)

This is where things took wayward turn.  Amber will tell a fuller telling the nightmare that was San Francisco, but I will give some highlights.  For one, we had many difficulties with our map and the actual streets and rest areas which seemed nonsensical and sometimes nonexistent.  Add to that the psychological shock of suddenly being surrounded by thousands of busy people and busy noises after weeks of silent contemplation of nature and already I had a bad taste in my mouth.  But it did not stop there! Soon we had bits of Seymour poop all over the van, a rest stop that wouldn't work, and a seemingly endless drive down Hwy 130, a ridiculously winding road about as wide as my forearm  along steeply dropping hills I have dubbed "The Road of Butt Clenching Terror". 

Yet, we made it out alive and after getting some In and Out in our bellies, we finally made it to our rest stop and got to sleep surrounded by bunny rabbits. 

Today is a new day and we are making some final preparations for Yosemite.  We should be there by the end of the day if all goes well!

-John

Oregon Coast

(Seymour loooves eating cars.)

After the grueling hikes of Mount Rainier, Amber and I needed some serious R&R.  As our last entry indicated, we arrived in Astoria, Oregon, Tuesday night.  We found a very pleasant little coffee house and a beautiful paved path that ran along the coastline facing the state we had just left.  With each step away from home, the trip grows in intensity and seeing our homeland as a barely visible coastline made our wings feel that much bigger.  Tuesday night was also the first night we spent sleeping in a town.  It was a little bit of an adventure finding a suitable spot to sleep, private enough to feel safe and not be in anyone’s way and flat enough to manage to sleep without rolling all over each other during the night.  After a little searching we found the perfect spot nestled in a corner of bushes outside a church. 

The next morning we wandered back to our newfound coffeehouse and hung out for a good couple hours.  We were greeted by a local named Sam Coffey (at a coffee house no less!) and chatted with him while I played the guitar they had available for patrons.  Once caffeinated thoroughly, we hit the road again to find our next place to stay for the night. 

(Warning: not as many free samples as you dream of.)

At this point we hit our first “bump in the road”.  Not only were the Oregon speed limit signs obnoxiously fickle down Hwy 101 (it was not unusual to see a 55mph sign followed 200 feet later by a 35mph sign and then followed another couple hundred yards later by a 45mph sign and then a 55mph sign again), but because it was so hilly and most turn offs had clear postings saying No Overnight Parking, it was very hard to find a place to park.  The hours rolled on and on and it was approaching 7:30 when we finally came to the perfect little oasis for car-bound travelers in the little town of Depoe Bay, Oregon, which boasted the world’s smallest harbor. 

Here we found excellent flat parking facing a beautiful rocky shore.  And there were even picnic tables to cook on and a public bathroom nearby!  We cooked ourselves up some noodles with a red sauce and TVP (textured vegetable protein) and with a half a bottle of wine each we forgot all our cares. 

The next day (Thursday) we hit the road again, this time with the resolve to find a sandy beach and live like bums.  And that we did, only a few miles later in Southbeach.  Although very windy that day, we managed to find a little spot next to some bushes that was protected from the wind.  Together with a blanket and some sunscreen, we laid our bodies out for a good couple of hours and soaked up the sun.  Feeling adequately saturated in the goodness of the heavens we looked for a place to settle down for the night. 

Unlike the previous night, we found an excellent spot almost right away overlooking a beautiful sandy beach.  Feeling satisfied, we lounged around until sunset when we went for a nice walk on the beach with Seymour dog, who found the largest pieces of driftwood possible and attempted to drag it across the sand.  End the night with some freezing toes in the Pacific Ocean and the day is a success!

-          John

So we’re 13 days into living in the car, about 8 days of the actual trip part of it all, and I already feel haggard. The days are filled with more survival-type tasks than I expected. The morning ritual of taking down the bed, setting up the car for the day, making breakfast and getting ourselves and Seymour ready for the day is about 3 hours. I’ve never been a morning person, poor John.

The last couple days have been spent hanging out on the beach, hanging out in the car, or just driving, usually looking for a spot on the side of the road. Sleeping on the side of the road is taking some getting used to. I wonder if and when I will get used to sleeping on streets and shoulders of highways. The first couple of nights, every time a pair of headlights would drive by I would feel sure that they were about to stop and knock on our window or slash our tires. Now it’s only every 3^rd car or so that I feel that way, so I’m already feeling more comfortable with it.

The evenings are the best. When our spot is already picked, the dinner has already been made and eaten with everything put away. Our bed is set up and waiting for us and Seymour Dog has tuckered himself out. John and I watch the sunset together, sharing tea or wine or popcorn or just a conversation from the front seat of Luna Van. These are my favorite moments, the moments we’ve worked so hard for, saving and planning for the last year and a half, and then spent the day building towards. This is MY life! And this amazing man next to me is MY man! These are the days.

-          Amber

(there were Grey Whales in there too.)

Mount Rainier

Hey y'all!

It's a few days into the trip and already we have seen some spectacular sites. On Saturday we rolled out of our friend Kecia Doolittle's apartment and headed form Mt. Rainier National Park. It was a bit of a drive but as we climbed through the mountains, but we were greeted by a snowcovered Rainier standing tall and proud. We hit the Pacific Crest Trail (the only dog friendly trail in the park). After about an hour of walking we hit some snow and the path became unclear. We were all pretty tired, so we headed back and made some dinner at Tipsoo Lake which overlooks the mountain. After getting some food in the belly we found a nice spot on the side of the road in the nearby Snoqualmie National Forest and called it a night.

The next two days were filled with many hikes around the park. Because most of the good trails are not dog friendly we split up, one of us choosing a trail in the park and one of us taking the Pacific Crest with Seymour.  I'll leave it to Amber to describe her exprerience.

My first day was with the doggywog, Seymour Butts (thusly named because he compulsively lickes all the hair of his butt).  We took the Pacific Crest down the side of the mountains and then into the woods.  Like before we hit a bunch of snow and I wasn't too sure where to go.  Behind me another couple had been walking and I turned to see if they knew where to go.  They told me "We'd been following you".  Nuts.  So I decided to climb my way up the creek nearby and besides being a bunch of fun, led me straight to the trail.  After that it was more of a walk inward toward the nearby lake.  We kicked it there for a while and headed back.

My second day was much different.  I decided to take part of the Wonderland Trail, known for its intimidating climbs and epic views.  I headed over the the White River Campgrounds where I knew the trail split off and started climbing.  Oh boy, did was I in for a treat: an hour and a half of grueling uphill climb with little else to look at but a bunch of trees.  Just before my spirit was starting to wain, however, I came across a huge waterfall, probably close to 120 tall that crossed trail.  After spashing my face with water to refresh my heart, I plodded on.  After just a short journey I hit a fantastic view of the mountain and knew that I couldn't give up the journey.  After about another half hour of hiking up hill the ground became pretty flat and before I knew it, I was in this "Wonderland" which up until this point I had honestly been "wondering" about.  View after view of the mountains and Rainier filled my vision and creek after creek, meadow after meadow, and flower after flower filled my imagination.  I completed the journey at the top of the Bourough Mountain Trail where I was gifted an almost surreal view of Rainier and the surrounding landscapes.  Words are simply not enough for it.  You'll have to see it for yourself ;) After that I was a pretty easy climb down the mountain and a comfy dinner with my love. 

It is now Tuesday and we are sitting in a cafe in Astoria, Oregon, ready for some relaxation in the sun for the next few days.

-John

Well, John has basically told you our tale of Mount Rainier. My hike on day two was not as epic as John's solo hike, but the solitude and silence was epic for my heart. At one point on the hike I realized I had only seen a couple people, and that had been quite awhile ago. It only delighted me for a second, then I remembered hearing the ranger tell some people the day before that there was an agressive bear they were trying to find and put down. So I disturbed the silence by clapping and yelling, hoping to let the animals know I was there.
On my hike I saw several small waterfalls, and one epic huge one. In an attempt to get a better view of the huge, powerful waterfall, I stepped off the trail and fell, getting myself our first battle wound of the trip-several scrapes on the side of my right leg with a solid bruise underneath. It doesn't hurt enough to outweigh how badass I feel about it. The trail was supposed to lead to a Owywich lake, however the snow eventually became too deep and the trail was impassable. I turned back and sat on a log, soaked my feet in my favorite little waterfall and read.
We slept on shoulders on the road the winding road through the National Forest. The first night we freaked ourselves out, determined that every headlight that passed by was either a ranger about to stop and tell us we couldn't sleep there, or some drunk jerks ready to screw with us. On the third and last night we were finally starting to get used to it and feel safe when a car did stop, headlights pointed at us. They never got out, they were probably just checking their maps or peeing on the side of the road, but we must have held our breath the entire time. I wonder at what point I'll get used to sleeping on the side of the road, if I ever will.
The van is holding up, the dog is loving every minute of every hike and car ride, and the bed set-up is everything we dreamed of.
Unfortunately, as sturdy as old Luna is, we've made a mess of her, and the camera's cords have been lost of misplaced. (better than my wallet, which we spent 20 furried minutes at the Safeway gas station searching for.) We will update this post with our pictures of making burritos in front of Mount Rainier and all those waterfalls.
My first sight of Mount Rainier made my heart cry a little bit. I look forward to all the other landscapes we'll see trying to top it.
-Amber

The Trip is On!

After many days of cleaning, getting rid of stuff, more cleaning, moving, packing and dropping off our extra belongings to our friends, the trip has actually started!  I suppose you could say it started when we left our keys in our apartment and said goodbye to the walls which gave us a home for the last year, but there is another sense of readiness and setting out now that the van is filled only with our trip supplies and we have waved goodbye to the friends who have been our home in the grand state of Washington. 

(a sideways tree growing in Washington Park in Anacortes, WA)

Our first stop has been my home town of Anactores, WA.  It is located in the San Juan Islands and is home to some of the most beautiful scenes this country has to offer.  The hypnotic motions of the Puget Sound, the regal poise of Cap Sante and the gorgeous clear skies speckled with clouds that only an archipelago can produce. 
We met with my brother, Mark Richcreek, late last night and after a cup of coffee and some oatmeal we headed out for a hike aroud Deception Pass, know for its misleading sailors who thought it went straight through.  To me it has always been known for it's curved beaches and epic views.  We then went for a nice dinner over at Washington Park and after a few minutes of messing with the stove, managed to get some quesadillas in our bellies while enjoying a nice beach breeze and a lovely sunset.  After that, Amber and I headed over to Cap Sante and chilled out watching the rest of the sunset give way to an incredibly clear crecent moon. 

(the moon was much bigger and more epic in person.. Still figuring out landscape pictures.)

(Also, a paypal donation button has been created. Not out of an assumption that anyone would want to contribute to our adventure, but because of the urging of others to post it.)

It's Happening!

So the trip is coming up in 12 short days. It has morphed and changed in recent weeks, getting 2 months and many miles shorter due to finances-however, we feel confident that it will still be uber epic. How could 5 months living on the road not be? The bulk of the planning has been done for months, and there is nothing left to do but wait out the last days. Well, wait, and get rid of all our belongings, get a root canal (for Amber), say our goodbyes, leave our jobs, repaint the apartment, hand over the keys (with fingers crossed to get some deposit back) and pack up the van.
This trip is something I have dreamt of since I was a small child and our car broke down on the highway. My mom and we 3 little kids started walking towards the nearest gas station or pay phone when a young hippie man offered us a ride in his VW bus. The kindness of a stranger always triggers to me remember "this is a good place to be." And I thought having a bed in the back of your van was super cool.
My mom and dad traveled the country like this, living in a teepee that my mother had sewed, hopping between the California National Forests, eventually ending up near the Ozarks. Somehow I always assumed I would follow their footsteps-except instead of having a husband (without a drivers license) and two toddlers in tow, I would have a boyfriend (with a drivers license) and a dog. Flash forward many years and a couple boyfriends later, I decide I want a man with enough adventure in his blood to be willing to do something like this with me, but enough calm that I don't have to struggle to keep up with him. In comes John, a homebody who perks up at the mention of this dream, whose parents have also done this journey. John is the kind of man that decides he wants to live in the woods for an indefinite amount of time, and so he does it. And now of course here we are, 12 days away from the adventure of a lifetime.
We've spent a year and a half planning and saving together, and now I feel as if I'm at the top of a roller coaster and I need to close my eyes. The climb up here was scary and exciting-now we're about to free fall and it's terrifying and exhilarating. "It's happening!" goes through my head and out of my mouth several times a day. Shortened or not, this is going to be spectacular.
Plus I get to have a bed in the back of my van.
Amber

So come the last couple of weeks before our trip starts.  I’ve been in this position a few times before, transitioning from the comfortable, rhythmic, settled nature of domestic living toward an adventure whose freshness and discomfort offer unspoken promises.  Giving up a bed and a home, I go to lay claim to those promises.  Inside, I will build a lasting home out of the experiences and wisdom the land will give me.  There is a sense of security that must be given up if one desires to live intensely. 
A big part of that is the great purge of stuff.  Many of the items which have been enormously useful, practical, sentimental and decorative must be left behind. When you are going to be living a van for a few months, there is simply not enough room to bring everything.   And even more than that, if the adventure is to be assumed with the greatest openness to the treasures it will give, space needs to be cleared inside.  With every piece of clothing donated, with every kitchen appliance sold on craigslist, with every book given away, a bit of the old life moves aside to give way to the new.
It is not without irony that the novelty and freshness come from the timeless land.  As we set off on our journey, I look at the many atlases and books of pictures that one might find on the floor of our apartment.  In them are the towering Sequoias of California, the fathomlessly deep canyons of the Southwest, the endless plains of the Midwest and the ancient weather drawn faces of myriads of mountains.  These features of our American landscape have inspired countless generations and have been the homes of more life than a small human mind can grasp. 
And I will be a bit of that life.  To me these are all imaginings and pictures in books.  When I see them for the first time with my eyes, in my little life, they will be born anew and I will be drawn back into the depth of time beyond remembering.  As a Catholic seminarian I would often reflect on the connective quality of tradition, how the same songs, the same prayers had been spoken and heard by so many over the course of hundreds of years.  How much more have the mountains and rivers been seen and heard over the course of millennia! Taking them into myself will be as a holy communion, linking me to the body and blood of the land as well as my fellow humans who walk her surface and taste her treasures.  

Such a communion has been the heart of America since her earliest days.  From the natives who had a deeper connection to this land that perhaps we will ever know, to the settlers who, in their quest for freedom, stumbled across some of the most liberating scenes any human has beheld.  In the more recent past, my own parents set out to live on the road in a revamped school bus.  My girlfriend’s parents lived out of a teepee in the national forests.  And many other Americans have done the same. Absent the great frontier to explore and settle they have taken to the road.  
John

 

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to." - Tolkien

The Car!

After an unsuccessful walking tour of several dealerships, we went online to find the specific car we were looking for. We found everything we wanted in a 1991 Chevy Astrovan, extended cab AWD. A test drive and a thorough look through confirmed that it was destined to be our vessel on our great American Road Trip.

Parking the car (and moving it every third day) in Capitol Hill is the trickiest part.

The next step is to take out the rear seat, flip the middle and build the bed/storage area. Most of the parts for this have fallen in our lap already-things are seeming too good to be true!



Seymour is ready to go.

With the car (aka: home for 7 months) officially ours, suddenly the trip is becoming very real.

"The car has become a secular sanctuary for the individual, his shrine to the self, his mobile Walden Pond."
-Edward McDonagh

The Planning Process

My turn for a blog post! It is my intention with this adventure to connect with my nationality. I have always been jealous of people that can identify their ethnicity or nationality with pride, and feeling lost with my mixed Caucasian American identity. I hope to be able to wear "I am American" comfortably with all the pride and embarrassment and knowledge that can be associated with it. The blog is because I love living vicariously through my traveling friends, and so I think it's important for us to reciprocate.
In the 163 days until the trip actually begins, we'll be posting our planning status. Kinda so we have it solidified and typed, kinda so we can share with our loved ones when we're visiting their areas. The living vicariously through us part will probably not happen for another 163 days or so.
We've broken the trip into 9 "legs" of varying mileages and times allotted.
The Legs are broken up as such:
1. Seattle-Los Angeles
2. Los Angeles-Yellowstone
3. Yellowstone-Chicago
4. Chicago-Maine
5. Maine-Florida
6. Florida-New Orleans
7. New Orleans-St Louis
8. St Louis-Carlsbad Caverns
9. Carlsbad-Seattle













A rough map of the route, minus a few little wiggles here and there.
I want to second what John said about feedback and advice! If you know any great (free) campsites or little towns or Civil War battlefields, etc, don't hesitate to let us know!

Live, travel, adventure, bless, and don't be sorry. - Jack Kerouac

-Amber