It was with high hopes that I intended to publish another post in our RV ALASKA series this week. I’m “this” close to finishing up the trip, and have only a few posts left – including the final, “Alaska by the Numbers.” But, as it often happens, real life gets in the way, and I find myself up to my ears baking Christmas cookies, wrapping gifts and planning Christmas dinner. You can expect the next RV ALASKA post shortly after Christmas. For now . . .
When Alan and I left Ridgway State Park, we made our way back to Interstate 70 and headed east through the Rockies. We’ve crossed this magnificent mountain range many times, but one particular crossing stands out in my mind. It was late March of 2017, and Alan and I had just purchased the Creek Side in Everett, Washington. We were on our way home with our brand new travel trailer, and it was snowing on Interstate 70 in Colorado by the time we hit the Eisenhower Tunnel (elevation: 11,000'+). I still remember how bad the trailer looked covered in snow and mud. What a mess! This time around, we had a blue sky day that allowed us to relax and enjoy the spectacular scenery. We arrived at Inlet Bay Campground on Horsetooth Reservoir just outside of Fort Collins, Colorado, on Tuesday afternoon, excitedly anticipating the arrival of long-time friends who had booked sites just down the loop road from us.
Fortunes were made and lost in the old mining towns of the American west, and some fortunes just never materialized. Many towns went from boom to bust in only a few short years. Some of them turned into ghost towns – or disappeared entirely. Others not only held onto their history, but celebrated it, enticing tourists to visit or even relocate. Although we had passed through Durango, Colorado, on our way to Mesa Verde National Park back in 2010, we had never made it north to the other old mining towns of Silverton, Ouray and Telluride. The Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park remained an elusive check mark on our bucket list, as well. Nearing the end of our expedition to Alaska, we worked our way back east through Colorado to visit with friends and visit the destinations that had remained just out of reach for way too long.
Base camp for our explorations was the Pa-Co-Chu-Pak Campground in Ridgway State Park, located less than 20 miles from Montrose. With a population of just over 21,000, Montrose was an excellent place to reprovision, get the truck washed and enjoy a couple of visits to Culver’s for their scrumptious frozen custard. The weather was a blend of sunshine, clouds and showers, but the rain didn’t hamper our plans, and we managed to accomplish everything we set out to.
Our visit to Golden Spike National Historical Park was a long time in coming. It had been on our bucket list for a while, and was actually on our itinerary in 2021 when we took an extended trip to Idaho to enjoy a number of the state’s many biking trails. Back then, our scheduled visit to Golden Spike was preempted by the first inter-mountain snow storm of the year in the Rockies. Instead of stopping in Utah for our planned visit to the Historical Park, we continued on our way east, trying to stay one step ahead of the storm – and just barely managing to do so. Luckily, there was no snow in the forecast this September, and we not only marked Golden Spike as a completed bucket list item, but also re-scheduled our meet up with Chris Mamula, a fellow blog author who writes over at Can I Retire Yet. A three year delay wasn’t exactly to our liking, but better late than never.
Today’s post is less about the trip and more about the connections we make along the road. Our travels are not just about a check in the box next to a bucket list item, although making that little check mark (either literally or figuratively) always provides a sense of accomplishment. No, our travels include the joy of planning, the excitement of arriving at a new-to-us destination – or an old favorite, the flavor of fresh, local foods, the incredibly scenic vistas we’ve discovered in every single state we’ve traveled to – and the often transient connections we make with people along the way.
Months ago, Alan and I had agreed to book reservations on this extended expedition for those dates and places we thought we might potentially run into trouble – like Banff and Jasper National Parks in Canada and Independence Day and Labor Day weekends. I covered the Fourth of July holiday weekend with reservations at Denali State Park and Denali National Park. Y’all know how that turned out for us. For Labor Day weekend, I had booked reservations at Hood Park – an Army Corps of Engineers (COE) campground in Burbank, Washington. That was the first COE campground we had ever stayed that I crossed off our “Return To” list.
On our trek west across the country a few months back, Alan and I were focused on getting work done on our travel trailer and moving up into Canada as soon as possible thereafter. I didn’t factor in any real vacation-type breaks or visits with friends. We knew we’d have time for that later. Even though five months was feeling like too long a trip for us, Alan and I were happily anticipating the remaining stops on this lengthy expedition. Why? Because “later” was now, and we knew we’d be laying over at a couple of our favorite campgrounds, checking off a bucket list item that had been in the bucket for way too long, and making several stops along the way to hang out with some very special friends.
We found a place to call home! As Alan drove on through winds and rain that Friday evening, I continued searching for a campground that would hold us over until our reservations in Anacortes, Washington, kicked in on Monday. Although we were still annoyed at the woman’s behavior in the gas station in Hope, British Columbia, we were thankful to be out of the Thompson River Canyon and past the danger of severe rockslides. Before we hit the border, I had found an unlikely base camp for the weekend – and it reminded us an awful lot of Alaska.
When I was young, whenever our family ran into a difficult situation, I remember my dad saying, “It’s a bad day at Black Rock.” It wasn’t until well after he had passed that I wondered where that expression came from and did a little research. As it turns out, “Bad Day at Black Rock” was a 1955 film that was nominated for three Academy Awards – Best Actor in a Leading Role (Spencer Tracy), Best Directing (John Sturges) and Best Writing (Millard Kaufman). “Bad Day at Black Rock” has remained in my repertoire of often used expressions even though my dad passed almost 40 years ago. As we headed into our final days in Canada, I had no idea it was, indeed, about to become a Bad Day at Black Rock.
When Alan and I left Meziadin Lake Provincial Park on the morning of August 19th, we were flying by the seat of our pants. Until our reservations in Washington State kicked in at the end of August, we had no place to be and all the time in the world to get there. Our plan was to just keep working our way south through western Canada, stopping to enjoy any parks or attractions that caught our attention along the way. While I agreed that this plan made perfect sense, having to make reservations along the way continued to stress me out. That day, we’d be coming to the end of the Cassiar Highway near Kitwanga, British Columbia, and picking up the Yellowhead Highway east toward the city of Prince George. After guesstimating our approximate end-of-day location, I decided upon yet another provincial park. This one was a real gem, too!
Maybe our expectations were too high; maybe our timing was all wrong. Whatever the reason, our run down the Cassiar Highway – at least in reference to wildlife sightings – was definitely not all we had hoped for. The drive from Kinaskan Lake Provincial Park to Meziadin Lake Provincial Park was a delightful treat with beautiful scenery everywhere. It would have been much more enjoyable if some of God’s critters had made an appearance. My disappointment made me think of the old proverb, “If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.” Meziadin Lake, however, did NOT disappoint!
It was not without trepidation that we set out along the Cassiar Highway. All the information I had read about it depicted it as one of the most remote highways in western Canada. Honestly, I don’t think it was any more remote than sections of the Alaska Highway, and we did see other vehicles on the road, many of which were RVs. Gas stations weren’t numerous, but they were available. (Expensive, but available.) We never felt that we were in danger of running out of gas. But, again, we were driving off just the top half of our tank – and we had an extra 10 gallons with us. That being said, there was an aspect of traveling the Cassiar Highway that was a bit disconcerting.
From the time we left Alaska, until we branched off on the Cassiar Highway southbound from Watson Lake, Alan and I were just retracing our steps through Canada. We had no planned stops; we were simply working our way back east. As we ate up the road miles, we marveled at the incredible scenery in western Canada. We also talked about how much we were enjoying the provincial parks in the Yukon Territory. This was our first experience with public parks in Canada, and I have to say that we enjoyed them as much as we have enjoyed the public parks and campgrounds in the United States. I was intrigued by the fact that we would find excellent campgrounds even in remote areas – and that they were being enjoyed by a fair number of people. Even though government and provincial parks came with few (if any) amenities, we had quickly become devoted fans.
When we had rolled into Whitehorse on our westward journey, we had no camping reservations, got in too late to snag a spot at the nearby government campground, and ended up next to the RV Wash at Hi Country RV Park. Their system said we’d fit into site 26, but there was absolutely no way that was going to happen – even with Alan’s decades of trailering experience. So, on the return trip, I went with my favorite resource (RV Life’s CampgroundReviews.com), found another private RV park, paid our money and took our chances. That’s one bet that didn’t pay off.
Alan and I retraced our steps along the Alaska Highway from Tok to Destruction Bay to Whitehorse to Watson Lake. It was at Watson Lake that we would head south along the Cassiar Highway through British Columbia instead of continuing back to Mile 0 of the Alaska Highway at Dawson Creek. I thought about combining our three days of travel to Watson Lake into one post, but I would have had to leave out a lot of the photos I wanted to share. Here we go, Day 1.
Moving on from Fairbanks was a bittersweet moment. It was the actual point in the journey where we pointed the truck to the east, and officially began the long trek home. That afternoon, we would arrive back in Tok, and spend our final night in Alaska. But first, we had two stops to make.
I have to admit that I didn’t give Fairbanks a fair shake – at least not at first. We didn’t spend enough time there on our previous trips to Alaska to really get to know the city. In fact, I remember thinking it was sort of boring. And I wouldn’t want to live anywhere you needed to plug your car in at the grocery store in the winter so that you could be sure it would start when you came out. (The average high in January is 0; the average low is 15 degrees below zero.) Once we were in Fairbanks on our own schedule, we were able to explore the city a bit more – and we really liked what we found!
On our prior visits to Fairbanks, our family had taken the Discovery Riverboat Tour, visited the Alaska Pipeline and panned for gold at Gold Dredge #8. We enjoyed all of those activities, but Alan and I felt no need to do any of them again. Honestly, I was looking at Fairbanks as a reprovisioning stop, and the only other item on our “must do” list was to visit Pioneer Park. Pioneer Park is sort of a living history museum. And a park (with a playground, a carousel and mini-golf). And home to a performing arts center. And you can “camp” in the parking lot. Yup, that’s all it is, an honest-to-goodness parking lot. Nothing but spigots with potable water and public restrooms in Pioneer Park. If there was a trash dumpster, we couldn’t find it, yet we called that parking lot home for four nights. Because we packed in so many activities (some fun, some not so much) into the three full days we were in Fairbanks, I may end up breaking our stay down into two posts. We’ll see how it goes. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, though.
Long-time readers know that Alan and I often arrive at a destination with a scavenger list of sorts. Sure, there might be a museum to visit or a restaurant to try, but sometimes there are simply unusual items on the list that we just want to see. That was the case on the day we traveled from Denali National Park north to Fairbanks. We wanted to see the Nenana Tripod. And we weren’t going to leave Alaska until we did.
When our earlier reservation at the Riley Creek Campground in Denali National Park was canceled due to the wildfire near the Park’s entrance, I was devastated. I had really, really, really been looking forward to visiting the Sled Dog Kennels in the Park; the kennels had been a bucket list item for a long time. When we secured our second reservation for Riley Creek, I was thrilled.
Alan and I had booked just two nights at the National Park campground since our “To Do” list was short: 1) Visit the kennels; 2) drive the Park Road to see what kind of wildlife we could find; and 3) get a good look at Denali (North America’s highest mountain at 20,310 feet) - if the mountain decided to show itself. We figured that, if the weather was cooperative and the wildlife was abundant, we’d book extra days at a local, private RV park if we couldn’t extend our stay at Riley Creek. With fingers crossed, we set up camp.
Back in 2006, our family of four drove down to Florida to spend time with Alan’s brother and sister-in-law, Tom and Joan, and visit Disney World. We had so much fun with Aunt Joan and Uncle Tommy that I gathered our photos into a slide show and set it to music. The last song in the montage was one I think all of you old timers would recognize – if I could just remember the title. Which, of course, I can’t at the moment. Anyway, the music was sort of sad and poignant, and our family, to this day, refers to it as the sad good-bye music. At least one of us will reference it whenever we leave our family’s favorite lake at the end of our summer stay. I warned Alan that I wasn’t going to be happy about having to leave Seward, and that proved to be so very true. And I remember thinking – and probably mentioning to him – that it was time to cue the sad good-bye music. Although I really didn’t want to leave, I knew we still had plenty of Alaskan adventures ahead.
Based on the previous two posts, y’all might think that Alan and I just sat around drinking coffee and gazing lovingly at Resurrection Bay during the 10 days we were in Seward. Not true! We biked around, poked around and found all kinds of interesting things to see and do. And there was one place we went that we probably shouldn’t have.
After looking through our photos and notes, I’m thinking that it will take three, not two, posts to cover our 10 days of adventure in Seward. So, let’s get right to #2.
Alan and I are boat nerds. We have a small power boat, we love being out on the water and we love seeing other boats of any size out on the water. Generally speaking, it doesn’t take much to make us happy. When it comes to boats, it takes even less. From the comfort of our recliners or camp chairs, we spent hours intrigued by the activity going on in the Port of Seward and on Resurrection Bay.
No, not us. Otter. Otter’s livin’ the dream. Truthfully, Alan and I are livin’ the dream, too, but this story is about Otter.
Based upon my trip-planning research, I had already booked reservations for a full week in Seward. Following the day trip Alan and I took down to the port city during the week we were camped at Cooper Landing, we decided to add three more days, giving us a total of 10 nights on a waterfront site on Resurrection Bay. I can’t even begin to tell you how much we enjoyed Seward, but I’m going to try. First, though, let’s get back to Otter.
Even before we started out on this expedition, we knew we’d have to schedule at least two, and maybe even three, oil changes along the way. Alan has always been a stickler about vehicle maintenance, and both times the percentage of oil life remaining on the truck dropped to a certain level, he started pressing me for more details about our schedule. Our first oil change was done in La Grande, Oregon, while we were there to have work done on the trailer. On an earlier pass through central Alaska, we had already identified an express lube business in Wasilla as a good possibility for an oil change; upon our arrival in Palmer on the 22nd, we were down to 9% oil life remaining. I believe that’s 1% above the point when we start getting alerts to “Change Oil Soon.” (How’s that for timing?!) So, one of the most important items on our list of activities for the Palmer-Wasilla area was an oil change. Once that was accomplished at Wasilla Lube Express on Swanson Avenue (nicely done, we’d go back), we enjoyed breakfast at IHOP, and then headed out to a place that has been close to my heart for almost 20 years.
The next time I tell you that I’m going to try to catch up on blog posts, just ignore my ramblings. When I initially made the switch to posting from the road in relatively real time, I figured I’d publish shorter posts, but more frequently. That’s not working out as well as I had hoped. It’s my own fault. There are so many facets to this trip that I want to share, it’s nearly impossible for me to draft a short post. And longer posts simply take more time to put together. Still, I’d rather be playing catch up than short you on the details because this really is an amazing adventure. So, please bear with the delay; I’ll catch up – eventually. That being said, I do have a confession to make.
No worries. All is well. Our trip didn’t come to an abrupt, tragic end. But we did reach “The End of the Road” when we drove as far as you can go on “the Spit” in Homer. Homer (population: 6,203) had all the charm that I felt Kenai lacked. Yup, it’s a tourist town – especially the Spit, a 4.5 mile sandbar that stretches out from town into Kachemak Bay. The Spit is where the tourists hang out. There are RV parks, hotels, shops, restaurants, fish processors and the Salty Dog Saloon – famous for the dollar bills that patrons sign and tack all over the wall. We liked Homer a lot, and really enjoyed the three days we spent hanging around the Spit. But first, let’s back up just a bit.
On the morning of July 18th, we headed west on the Sterling Highway from Cooper Landing to Deep Creek State Recreation Area in Ninilchik. That state-run campground would be our base camp while exploring Homer, approximately 45 minutes farther down the highway. We had visited Deep Creek earlier in the week, and had identified it as our #1 campground choice in the area (also known as Plan A). We planned to arrive shortly after the 12 noon checkout, and kept our fingers crossed that we’d get a waterfront site with a gorgeous view of Cook Inlet and Mt. Redoubt, a volcano that’s still somewhat active. Most state campgrounds in Alaska don’t offer reservations; otherwise, you can bet we would have had one. We did luck out with a waterfront site. Better yet, it was at the end of a row with no neighbors on our dinette (driver’s) side which is where most of our windows are. On our curb side was a family of six, and they were great neighbors. Out the big back window was a lovely view of Cook Inlet and the mountains beyond. I couldn’t have picked a better site if I had reserved it months in advance. However . . .
A longer post than usual, covering six full days . . . We arrived at the Kenai Princess RV Park in Cooper Landing knowing we had someplace to call home for seven nights. Beyond that, we needed to fill about a week and a half before our reservations at one of the municipal campgrounds in Seward kicked in. Figuring that Cooper Landing was a good base camp for exploring the central part of the Kenai Peninsula and an adequate, if not ideal, base for exploring the western end of the Peninsula, we asked about extending our stay at the Kenai Princess.
Kim, the manager of the RV Park, worked very hard to fit us in. Despite her efforts, there was a two day gap she couldn’t cover, immediately following our current reservation. She promised us that, if we could leave for just two days, we could come back and stay as long as we’d like. Well, if we had to leave for two days, we might as well try to find another campground that would put us in a better position for exploring the western end of the Peninsula. With a heartfelt thank you to Kim for all of her efforts on our behalf, we spent the next couple of days poking around the Peninsula, checking out both private RV parks and State Recreation Areas. We really needed to find a place to call home!
In September of 2004, Alan and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary with our second Alaska land tour and cruise with Princess. Kyra was five, Ryan was ten, and we all had a wonderful time on that trip. One of our overnight stops on the land tour portion of the trip was the Kenai Princess Lodge in Cooper Landing. For our current expedition, I considered Cooper Landing a good base camp for exploring the central part of the Kenai Peninsula. When I began researching campgrounds in the area, I was stunned to learn that Princess also operated an RV Park adjacent to the lodge we had stayed at 20 years ago.
Sobering Thoughts – In a previous post, I had mentioned the big yellow streak running down my back that has been limiting our outdoor activities to some degree. I know there are other experience-seekers out there who are way more adventurous than I am. And I say, to each his own. We all make our own choices, and I respect theirs. My choices reflect what I believe to be right for me, and I have no regrets about the life experiences I may have missed due to my aversion to risk.
I can’t say that I was sorry to see the K’seugi Ken Campground in Denali State Park in our rearview mirror. Maybe with a different set of circumstances and different weather patterns our visit would have been more enjoyable. It was with no small amount of anticipation for a better experience in Valdez that we packed up and headed south on the Parks Highway.
Valdez was always a possibility in the back of my mind, but it wasn’t a line item on our itinerary. Other destinations in Alaska held a higher priority, but we were hoping to squeeze in some time in this port city at some point during our weeks in Alaska. In retrospect, swapping several days in Valdez for our now useless reservations in Denali National Park turned out to be an excellent idea; Valdez was the salve that healed our wounds.
The only reservations I had made for our entire multi-week stay in Alaska were three nights at the K’seugi Ken Campground in Denali State Park followed by four nights at the Riley Creek Campground in Denali National Park. Those reservations guaranteed us a place to call home over the Fourth of July holiday and the weekend that followed. The plan was to arrive at Denali State Park on July 3rd, then travel north a few days later to Denali National Park. Beyond that, we planned a run south to the Kenai Peninsula. All good, right? No, not good. Not good at all.
At 586,000 square miles of land, Alaska is, by far, the largest state in the union. It’s more than twice the size of Texas, and larger than the next three biggest states combined (Texas, California and Montana). Texas has 314,000 miles of public roads; Alaska has less than 18,000. It doesn’t take long to become familiar with the major highways in Alaska simply because there aren’t that many of them.
There are fewer than 1,400 people living in Tok, Alaska, but there are seven private RV parks in town and several state recreation sites with campgrounds outside of it. Tok is the first town you’ll find along the Alaska Highway after clearing Customs and entering the state of Alaska. For many Rvers, Tok is just a quick one night stop on the way to the state’s more famous attractions. Alan and I planned to stay two nights, then move on to Fairbanks to reprovision and catch up on laundry. It was just after we arrived in Tok that the McDonald fire, burning just south of Fairbanks, became the second wildfire to derail our travel plans.
When planning our route to Alaksa, I had discounted the Top of the World Highway – even though I would have loved to visit Dawson City, Yukon, with its fascinating Gold Rush history. I had read that the Highway wasn’t in the best of condition, and Alan and I were both concerned about damage to the truck and trailer. Having already had two windshields replaced back home within the past year, we weren’t too anxious to go through that again. Comments made by our friend, Bernie, convinced us to give the Top of the World a go. He thought the road wasn’t that bad and better than some. I shook off my reservations, and we decided we’d head north from Whitehorse on the Klondike Highway, travel through Dawson City and follow the Top of the World Highway on to Tok, Alaska. If we did that on the way out, we could take the Alaska Highway on the way back, allowing us to cover new and different territory. On the morning of our departure from Whitehorse, news that a wildfire burning to the north had closed the North Klondike Highway between Pelly and Stewart Crossing stopped us in our tracks. The fire had effectively blocked our way to Dawson City.
Alan and I had been steadily on the move, covering the distance from Jasper, Alberta, to Watson Lake, Yukon, over the course of three days. We usually try to drive no more than two full days before taking an R&R day, but traffic was light and we had been unusually lucky in finding three campsites in a row that didn’t require us to unhitch. Not that unhitching is difficult, but not having to do it saves a little bit of time and makes for a quick and easy getaway in the morning. We had been looking ahead to a two-night layover in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, that would allow us a break from the road, time to reprovision and the opportunity to visit the S.S. Klondike – one of the last remaining steam-powered paddle wheelers that transported goods and passengers up and down the Yukon River between the 1860’s and 1950. The Klondike exceeded our expectations by a longshot.
Alan and I spent a full day traveling from Summit Lake in British Columbia to the town of Watson Lake in southern Yukon Territory. We had been anticipating our stop at the Sign Post Forest in Watson Lake since the beginning of the trip. Since 1942, people from all over the world have been posting a sign to signify their passing through this small town. Names, streets, towns, states, countries, special occasions and even memorials - all of these and more have been commemorated in the Sign Post Forest. Of course, we had to add our own.
I am officially out of my comfort zone. Our stay at Whistlers Campground in Jasper National Park marked the last place we had reservations anywhere until we reach Denali State Park in Alaska. For an overly zealous planner like me, this situation is causing an undue amount of stress.
Alan and I had made a conscious decision to keep our calendar as wide open as possible for the weeks we would be spending in Canada and Alaska. (Our friend Bernie would be proud of us.) That would allow plenty of flexibility in our itinerary so that we could stay a bit longer in any town or campground that caught and held our attention. Despite the angst, I do still think that was the right choice for this kind of trip, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. And for the record, I don’t.
The weather continues to be “iffy” with big dark clouds appearing daily in the late afternoon, often accompanied by intermittent showers here in Jasper. We’re still making the most of every day – we just toss our rain jackets in the truck and go on with our plans. My efforts to not fall behind in posts are failing, so this one will cover everything we did during the four days we were in Jasper.
On one of the four days, we took a leisurely drive down Maligne Lake Road to see the lake. On another, we retraced our steps along the Icefields Parkway as far as Peyto Lake (which was the first stop we missed). The remaining two days were spent exploring the town of Jasper, bicycling around the campground and catching up on camp and household chores. We really had a great time in Jasper, and I’d go back there in a heartbeat.
The first thing Alan and I did on the morning of our departure from the Tunnel Mountain Trailer Court in Banff was peek out the window as soon as we woke up. Ah, no snow on the ground. What a relief! Once we were on the road, we did take note of the gray and gloomy skies ahead.
In the “Road Trips” section in the Summer 2024 issue of “Where: Canadian Rockies,” the tourist guide describes the Icefields Parkway like this: “Touted as one of the most beautiful drives in the world, this 230 km/143 mile route between Lake Louise and Jasper traces the Continental Divide. See glaciers, rugged peaks and frequent wildlife.” “Frequent” wildlife was not our experience – “entertaining” wildlife was. But Alan and I agreed the Icefields Parkway was the most spectacular road we’ve ever driven during our entire relationship spanning nearly five decades. We hadn’t even reached Jasper before we had vowed to make the drive again.
Aside from the nine
elk dining outside our window, we had yet to see any of the other wildlife for
which this area of Canada is known.
Disappointed, yes, but that didn’t deter us from keeping an eye out
anywhere and everywhere we went. Our luck was about to change.
As we transition into sightseeing mode, I’ll take a moment to set the stage for this great adventure. Alan and I are traveling in a 2024 GMC Sierra 2500HD 4x4 pickup truck and towing a 2017 32’ Outdoors RV Creek Side travel trailer, affectionately known as “The Lodge.” We left our kayaks at home, but brought our bikes – two Diamondback hybrids that work well on pavement and adequately on dirt or gravel trails. We lock ‘em up everywhere we go because we love them and don’t want to lose them. We’re also traveling with a small Honda EU2000i generator, a bunch of tools, two spare trailer tires, one spare truck tire, 10 extra gallons of gas, a marine radio with weather alerts and, believe it or not, a porta-potty for day-long expeditions in the outback. Combine camping with boating (or boating with camping, depending on your perspective) and you come up with the oddest selection of gear.
After Alan and I left the Bonner County Fairgrounds in Sandpoint, Idaho, and were heading north toward the Canadian border, we agreed that we finally felt like the RV ALASKA trip had begun. Although we had been on the road for just over three weeks, our days had been full of camping with family and friends and dealing with routine chores and the infamous truck/trailer issue. With all of the angst behind us, our spirits were lighter and our sense of adventure had rejoined the trip.
We came to La Grande, Oregon, to have our trailer brakes and bearings replaced by an RV repair shop in town, run by a couple of guys with long histories in the RV industry. Just routine maintenance – or so we thought. After all, this travel trailer has over 40,000 miles on it. While we were in La Grande, we were trying to resolve the “check trailer wiring” and “service trailer brake system” messages we were getting on the new truck. Luckily, the GMC dealer in Baker City squeezed us in to take a look. They said it was the plug where the trailer connects to the truck, but they didn’t have one in stock. They were kind enough to call around for us, and found a shop along our route in Spokane, Washington, that had the plug and said they would be able to fit us in on Saturday morning at 11:00 a.m. With a four-hour drive and at least one gas stop ahead of us, we left La Grande a little after 6:00 a.m. on Saturday. Until that day, the alerts we had been getting were intermittent, and the trailer brakes always came back on. Not so on Saturday. We had no trouble at all during the entire drive to Spokane, and we believed that replacing the trailer brakes had fixed a problem we didn’t realize we had. But when we were about a mile from the dealership, our trailer brakes went out completely – and didn’t come back.
Traveling by RV is often romanticized in movies, books and, of course, on social media. Every new day is full of adventure and perfection. Well, in real life, that’s not always true. As Alan likes to say, “No bad days,” but that’s more about our attitude toward the day and less about what the day, itself, contains.
There’s a reason we don’t usually travel through the Midwest during the spring and early summer. It looks like this:
We often pack our handheld marine radio on our travels for access to NOAA weather radio alerts. Crossing the Midwest at this time of year made the radio more of a necessity than a luxury. When we left Shady Creek Recreation Area in Iowa, Alan and I were planning to spend one night at the Buffalo Country Fairgrounds in Kearney, Nebraska, and the next at Cabela’s campground in Sidney, also in Nebraska. After checking the weather forecast on the morning of our departure from Shady Creek, we realized we might need a Plan B.
Life on the road. I don’t want to say that you love it or hate it. I think it’s more that you take to it – or you don’t. Alan and I must be kindred spirits; we’ve been roadtripping together forever. There’s a certain rhythm to life on the road, with responsibilities and routines falling into place. Because we don’t camp at all from late fall until spring, the first outing of the year always involves a little bit of discombobulation – for me, anyway. Inevitably, I make rookie mistakes – turning the water heater on LP gas when we’re plugged into electric. Failing to get the black tank chemicals and two gallons of water we add to it after we dump prepped before we need them – nothing serious, just annoying. Then, we fall into the rhythm of the road, and all is well. I love life on the road.
Our family camped at Northampton Beach Campground on Great Lake Sacandaga for the first time in the summer of 2009, and we immediately fell in love with “the lake.” Located on a beautiful piece of property in the foothills of New York’s Adirondack Mountains, the state-run park also offers a boat launch and a day use area with a beach and picnic tables. This year would mark our 16th year of family vacations there, and we didn’t want to break our consecutive streak. So, even before knowing our exact travel dates for Alaska, we booked two waterfront sites at the lake for opening weekend in mid-May through Memorial Day.
Five years ago, in celebration of our 40th wedding anniversary, Alan and I planned a trip to Alaska, just the two of us. Our airline, car rental and hotel reservations for a week were in place, plus we had booked a sweet little balcony cabin on a cruise ship for a one-week trip down the Inside Passage. Then, we had to cancel for business-related reasons. SO disappointing! COVID followed, and we ended up canceling an extended trip to the Oregon coast, too, leaving our travel calendar in even worse shape. Here we are, five years later, with the 49th state back on the schedule and our 45th anniversary just ahead.
This post represents another installment in the series documenting our West Coast National Parks trip in the summer of 2017. Alan and I, along with our 18 year old daughter, Kyra, logged a total of 8,513 memorable miles of adventure over the course of five and a half weeks during the months of July and August.
Whenever we visit a National Park, our preference is to camp within the park itself – assuming there’s a campground that will accommodate our 32’ travel trailer. On this trip, though, we had planned a one day visit to Crater Lake, and it seemed like it was more trouble than it was worth to haul the trailer all the way east to the National Park for just two nights. So, I decided to look for a campground west of Crater Lake, trading a longer drive on the actual day of our visit for a shorter one during which we’d be towing the trailer. It wasn’t ideal but, as with any trip of this magnitude, concessions were inevitable. As it turned out, this particular concession proved to be beneficial.
This post represents another installment in the series documenting our West Coast National Parks trip in the summer of 2017. Alan and I, along with our 18 year old daughter, Kyra, logged a total of 8,513 memorable miles of adventure over the course of five and a half weeks during the months of July and August.
The next stop on our West Coast National Parks trip was Crater Lake National Park. Our destination on this Day #22 was Griffin Park, a county park about 14 miles west of Grants Pass, Oregon, that would be our base camp for a visit to Crater Lake. Trip planning for this expedition was like working a jigsaw puzzle. There were quite a few irregularly shaped pieces that needed to be fit together to successfully complete the picture. From Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park campground, it was a straight shot to Grants Pass which was about an hour and a half to the northeast. But we had no intention of missing anything along the Oregon coast that had made the trip’s bucket list. So, back to Highway 101 it was for another jaunt up the coast on a circuitous route that would, eventually, deposit us at the campground in Griffin Park.
This post represents another installment in the series documenting our West Coast National Parks trip in the summer of 2017. Alan and I, along with our 18 year old daughter, Kyra, logged a total of 8,513 memorable miles of adventure over the course of five and a half weeks during the months of July and August.
Day #21 of our expedition dawned clear and sunny. Alan, Kyra and I were looking forward to crossing into Oregon and exploring along the coast. We couldn’t have asked for more beautiful weather. Looking back on our photos of the trip, I realized that we were extremely fortunate weather-wise. With a tight schedule to keep, we wouldn’t have let bad weather derail our plans; still, it was such a pleasure to be out and about on so many gorgeous days.
Before we headed up the coast for the day, we had planned on a short and easy hike over to Stout Grove – accessible directly from our campground in Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park. Kyra decided to sleep in and skip the hike. Whether she was well and truly tired or simply needing a break from being with her parents 24/7, we’ll never know. You can’t always tell what lurks in the minds of teenagers. On to Stout Grove!
I just couldn’t contain myself, so I’m jumping up on my customer service soapbox. Please note that I am not receiving compensation of any kind from the companies mentioned favorably below; I’m simply sharing my opinions and observations. The photos accompanying this post were taken at the Missouri Route 66 Welcome Center Rest Area located at milepost 111 (eastbound and westbound) on Interstate 44 in Conway, Missouri. The picnic table shelters are all miniature versions of Route 66 buildings, and they are ADORABLE! In case you’re interested, we enjoyed our picnic lunch in the Texaco gas station.
Customer service has been a frequent topic “around the campfire” here lately. Regular readers might remember that Alan and I are sticklers for good customer service. Over the course of the past several weeks, we’ve had an exceptional run of bad customer service experiences, mitigated by a couple of shining stars. It boggles our minds that management at so many companies does not stress the importance of good customer service with their staff. Alan and I are favoring two main reasons for this inattentiveness to customer service and satisfaction.
This post represents another installment in the series documenting our West Coast National Parks trip in the summer of 2017. Alan and I, along with our 18 year old daughter, Kyra, logged a total of 8,513 memorable miles of adventure over the course of five and a half weeks during the months of July and August.
As I’ve noted in the past, this National Parks trip was intended to be a “sampler” trip – as were our two previous cross-country National Parks trips. When vacations were constrained by work and school schedules, we squeezed as much sightseeing and as many experiences into our travels as possible. The theory was that when we stumbled on a place we really enjoyed, we could always return in the future. Our schedule allowed just two days to explore Redwood National and State Parks and the coast of southern Oregon, so we planned to pack those two days with as much adventure as we could.
Jump aboard for a little bit of time and space travel from our New England adventures of 2023 back to 2017 and the National Parks of the West Coast. This post marks a return to the series documenting our West Coast National Parks trip in the summer of 2017. Alan and I, along with our 18 year old daughter, Kyra, logged a total of 8,513 memorable miles of adventure over the course of five and a half weeks during the months of July and August. Although we had a brand new Outdoors RV travel trailer at home, we had decided to take our older Jayco on this trip because it had bunk space for Kyra. That would preclude having to make up the bed in the ORV every night we were on the road. Plus, with our son, Ryan, having aged out of traveling with us, his empty bunk provided a bit more space for Kyra’s clothes and gear on this extended trip. Truth be told, this mama’s heart would have been much happier if it had been Ryan in that bunk instead of extra camping paraphernalia. I absolutely loved traveling with our kids, and I still miss having them along.
The last time I posted about our third cross-country National Parks trip, the three of us had just finished up a three-night stay at Yosemite National Park. From there, it was a quick (really quick!) one-day tour of San Francisco and Point Reyes National Seashore, then on to Redwood National and State Park in northern California. Let’s pick up the story on the morning we left the Hodgdon Meadow Campground in Yosemite and headed for Lake Solano County Park in Winters, California. This would be Day #17 in the five and a half week trip.
When
Alan and I spent a week in Maine last May, my only major disappointment was
arriving at Five Islands Lobster Company in Georgetown to find it
closed. We stopped by on a Friday
afternoon and the quintessential lobster shack wasn’t open on weekdays until
June. Unfortunately, we were heading back home early the next morning. I was so dejected that Alan
immediately starting working on making it right, and we returned to Maine “for
lunch” on a long weekend that just so happened to include my birthday. Was our Five Islands experience worth the
return trip? Come along and find out . . .
The final stop on our Little States trip of June 2023 was Hammonasset Beach State Park in Madison, Connecticut. Alan and I had been looking forward to fitting in a camping expedition to this park since we had discovered it a year or two ago while in Connecticut on personal business. The park is located directly on Long Island Sound and the campground is huge and well-maintained. There were a lot of things we liked about Hammonasset Beach – and one thing we didn’t.
