The New England Coast

The Hampton’s traffic tends to be heavy during peak times, even in the off-season, so we decided to leave Long Island early before the Sunday traffic returns to New York. Connecticut is our first stop along the New England coast. My paternal Aunt Madeline and Uncle Lou, who I haven’t seen in over 50 years, live in Danbury. In the winding hills and heavily tree-lined neighborhood, my Aunt stood on her door step and pulled me into a tight embrace, as if to squeeze out of me all that she has missed from my life in the last half century. Surrounded by antique furniture my great-grandmother brought over from the “old” country and dozens of framed photos of my paternal relatives, we sat and talked for hours, catching up, only to break for a traditional Lebanese lunch, and then an evening visit to meet my cousin Brian, where we sat and talked and laughed for a few more hours. Too soon, the day came to a close and it was time for Dan and me to leave with so many unanswered questions and family stories still needed to be heard. Dan and I feel so fortunate to have experienced such open hospitality during this trip from distant relatives, offering slices of family history with a side of new memories. Thank you, my Connecticut family, for the warm welcome.

Top: Cousin Brian, Aunt Madeline, Uncle Lou; wedding day photo of my paternal grandparents, aunt, and bio dad; Aunt Madeline and me

We awoke the next morning by the alpacas on Bishop’s Orchard and Farm in Guilford, Connecticut. I spoke with one of the farm hands, who was collecting fresh eggs, and he gave me a half dozen to take with us on the road, but they had to be shelved because fresh seafood in Newport, Rhode Island was on the menu for the day. The summer “cottages” of the wealthy during the Gilded Age of the late 1800s on Bellevue Avenue put Downton Abbey to shame. Many of these mansions are open for visits, but Dan and I opted for our own walking tour along the Cliff Walk-a 3.5-mile path with the rocky Atlantic Ocean on one side and views through the iron fences of the grand grounds and homes on the other. An app is available to listen to commentary of each home site. Still the summer playground of the uber rich and famous, Newport provides ample opportunity for the extravagant outdoor sport hobbies of the wealthy.

Clockwise right: Harvest Host Farm; Mystic, CT (made famous by the 80’s movie of the same name); The Wall Walk in Newport, Rhode Island, Start of one week of all seafood; summer “cottage” in Newport

We continued on highway 1 and 1A, which we picked up along the seaport in Mystic, Connecticut and followed along the coast into Cape Cod with its gray-weathered shingle beach cottages and hydrangea filled gardens. After a day of tooling around the Cape, we ferried over to Martha’s Vineyard and spent a few days lazing around the Island. Dan and I slipped into island time with ease, spending our days exploring the end of the road in each direction of the island. On one rainy day, we left our campground in Vineyard Haven for Menemsha Beach-a small tucked away fishing village and beach area. The Menemsha Fish Market has a hot or cold lobster roll special with your choice of clam chowder or lobster bisque and parking at the end of the road, overlooking the Vineyard Sound. Along the calmer waters of Vineyard Haven Harbor, kite surfers take flight when jumping white caps, and the gentle tinkling of sea shells call for a closer look of their iridescent colors with each wash of the current. Our last day on the Vineyard was spent golfing at a seaside course.

Our trip to Maine wouldn’t be complete without a day lobstering, so on our first day in Portland, we did just that. On the Lucky Catch lobster boat, we cruised the harbor, learning all about the lobstering industry, checked the lobster traps for legal-sized catch and threw the rest back. At the end of the 90-minute tour of seal rock, a civil-war fort, and lighthouse, Dan and I picked two of the catch and walked them over to the adjacent dock restaurant who cooked them and served them with sides for a nominal fee.

Clockwise: Dave & Candice (our ship and dinner mates); working the lobster boat in Portland, Maine; BYOL and they cook it!

Taking highway 1 the next day along the Atlantic coast, we passed one quaint fishing port after another with small B&Bs, cobblestone streets, unique shops, tap rooms and lobster shacks which are as ubiquitous as Starbucks in Los Angeles. Acadia National Park on Desert Island near Bar Harbor is our last stop in the North Atlantic. On our first day we traversed the 27-mile scenic loop, stopping to walk the Ocean Path at Sand Beach. Rimmed with black flecked pink granite, the rugged coast walk afforded us views through the pines of small bird-clad islands as if drifting away from the mainland and lobster buoys dotting the bay. We ended the circle on the first day with dinner in Bar Harbor. An early wakeup call was on the agenda for the second morning to drive to the top of Cadillac Mountain, the tallest peak on the North Atlantic above Belize. We wanted to be one of the first people in the USA to see the sun rise. After finishing the driving tour around Acadia NP, we turned West to begin our journey home.

Acadia National Park, Desert Island, Maine

A Bite of the Big Apple

The Tuesday after Labor Day, Dan and I packed up the Van, said our farewells to Matthew, and trekked Northward. The traffic was heavy around the Baltimore area. To avoid the morning rush, we decided to make a wider sweep toward the densely populated Amish community of Lancaster, Pennsylvania. The detour rewarded us with glimpses of a-day-in-the-life of those who lead a traditional Amish or Mennonite lifestyle. Like most scenic byways we’ve driven across the States, the area is filled with alternating corn and soybean farms and red barns. The differences, here, are in the details. The homes are manicured to perfection, gardens tended by young women wearing traditional long dress and bonnets, clotheslines are filled with black suits and billowing white sheets, double-team horses pull the farm equipment while the beard-clad men hand harvest the corn at speeds comparable to its diesel-powdered competitors. All transportation on roads is either by horse and buggy, foot, or scooters, and not the Lyft or Uber brand electric scooters found littering most city streets now days. We lunched at Kitchen Kettle Village and stocked up on locally-made specialties, then continued on to New York City.

Surprisingly, we found a RV park along the waterfront in Jersey City, with an easy walk to the Path light rail and Liberty Harbor Ferry to Downtown New York City. The Overpriced parking lot was our fourth RV park in eight weeks. Within 20 minutes of checking in, we hopped on the ferry and were at the 9/11 Memorial. The remainder of the day was spent touring the clean and sophisticated Downtown area. A mix of modern and carefully preserved period buildings, the eclectic architecture of Manhattan creates a cohesive look unique to such cities as London, Paris, and NYC. The sun closed on our whirl-wind day and was replaced with a milky-way of building lights while we dined at a seafood restaurant along the Hudson River.

*Top Left: Liberty Island Ferry Dock, Jersey City; 9/11 Memorial, Empire State Bldg., Time Square, Colgate Clock and Jersey City Skyline*

On day two, Dan and I took a larger bite of the Big Apple and continued our hop-on-hop off tour of Manhattan, including Uptown, Harlem, and the Bronx. At timed intervals, pedestrians flooded from the subway exits, streaming down the sidewalks, bike paths, and streets, while cars inched along, blaring their horns at the masses blocking their path. Sirens wailed, jack hammers thrummed, and trains clacked along the metal tracks; these are a few examples of audio sensory overload we experienced throughout the day. Looking for a respite from the flashing lights, crowds, and city din, a walk around Central Park was needed. A few steps in and all fell away, replaced with green and the sound of children’s laughter. After a short stroll and lunch at Tavern on the Green, we were reenergized and hit the streets once again. We rounded out our second day, with a harbor cruise around Lady Liberty and traversing the streets of Little Italy and China Town, sampling the local delicacies.

Our last day was spent in Brooklyn and Queens, specifically Astoria. After spending the morning touring around Brooklyn, Dan and I took the subway to the end of the line in Astoria to meet his cousin Linda and her husband Chuck, who selflessly drove down from Vermont just to meet us and tour us around the old hometown of her and Dan’s grandparents. For it was approximately 120 years ago that Dan’s great-grandfather came to Astoria from Salle, Italy for the promise of a better life. Retracing the steps his grandfather took to church, local shops, Astoria Park, and his childhood home was like a walking family history tour. We ended the lovely afternoon with a delicious Italian dinner at a local eatery. Thank you, Linda and Chuck, for your time and family knowledge. We recognize and appreciate your efforts.

Top Right: Brooklyn tour, Chuck, Linda, Dan, and me in Astoria, the first Italian Methodist Church started by Dan’s great grandparents, the City at night (9/11 Memorial lights)

Exhausted from hours of touring, a couple days of relaxation at the beach was much needed, so we did as most New Yorkers do and escaped to the Hamptons. An oceanfront campground in Mantauk provided the peace and quiet for our rejuvenation. Winds whipped at the waves, spouting sea mist high in the sky; grasses bent, clutching the sand dunes; and our van swayed, rocking us into a peaceful sleep. Fresh seafood and salt air did the trick. Tomorrow we follow along the New England coast to Acadia National Park.

His(her)story

We began our trek along the Ohio River Byway (US 7) on a Sunday, the day of rest for most of the residents in the riverfront towns, with bridges straddling the states of Ohio and West Virginia. The tranquil drive through the green forests and sleepy towns afforded our eyes to take in all the sights while listening to the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes book on Spotify. We lunched in a park overlooking Gallipolis. With flower baskets bursting in color and swing benches along the palisades-type park, lunching by the Ohio River created an old-fashion picnic experience. North of Marietta we picked up the Covered Bridge Scenic Byway (US 27) and started driving inland along the back roads of Ohio-the seams binding America’s counties. We witnessed restored covered bridges, painted barns, and old log homes in Wayne National Forest. Wild turkeys flew across the bow of our touring van as we traversed the back hills’ homes alternating shacks, tin mobile homes, and new development. Still rich in natural resources, some properties house oil rigs known to pump a few barrels of oil per month. At Woodsfield, Ohio we paused, admiring the old theater and court house before turning toward Wheeling, West Virginia.

Clockwise: Ohio Covered Bridge Scenic Byway; center, Gallipolis; Monroe Theater, Woodsfield; Shreffs Hometown BBQ

We parked in Wheeling, West Virginia for a couple nights, staying with my maternal Aunt Barbara, whom I recently connected with on Ancestry.com. With open hospitality, Dan and I were chauffeured all around the “Wild and Wonderful” West Virginia town, given the gold star tour of, not only our nation’s early beginnings, but of my maternal family beginnings as well. For I learned that my maternal ancestors chose Woodsfield, Ohio, which I paused to admire earlier in the day, and Wheeling, West Virginia as their home settlements when arriving to this country from North Western Europe. A break in the heat and humidity allowed for a full day outing to the Oglebay Home and Gardens, a tour of the glass museum, and local specialty eateries among the beautifully resort Victorian homes of the area. A special thank you to Barbara and Debbie for everything.

Top: Oldest suspension bridge in world, Wheeling, WV; Capitol Music Hall-2nd to Grand Ole Opre in Country Music Entertainment; National Historic Road markers; Centre Market for Coleman’s Fish Market and other fun shops; Center-Barbara, Dan, Me, Debbie

From Wheeling we traveled along National Byway 40, National Historic Road, and begin our trek back in time, starting among the hilly roads cascading through Pennsylvania and the small towns George Washington protected during the French and Indian War. The forest thickens as we pass over the Allegheny Mountains and towns begin to thin out. As we roll west into Maryland the colonial red brick homes, churches with tall spires, and farmlands reappear with the forest falling into the background. College Park, The Hotel at University of Maryland, is our destination for the next few days to visit with our son, Matthew, to celebrate his 18th birthday.

While Matthew was finishing his first week of the semester at UMD, Dan and I tooled around Chesapeake Bay. We began with breakfast on Kent Island overlooking the Bay, then continued north along the Delmarva peninsula (Delaware, Maryland, Virginia) toward Chesapeake City, a 19th century town restored to its original appearance. Passing salt marshlands, fishing boats, and large clap board sided homes, our path north maneuvered in and out of the finger-like inlets and historic villages.

Clockwise: Kent Island; Chesapeake City; Crabs in and on everything

For Matthew’s 18th Birthday weekend we symbolically celebrated his independence into adulthood in the city of independence-Philadelphia. For it was in this town the first rumblings of rebellion began and the declaration of independence occurred in 1776. After becoming accustomed to the pungent odor of the city, we toured, on foot, the Old City, and the historical beginnings of our nation. The American Revolution Museum claimed the majority of our day, but lunch at the City Tavern and our walking tour rounded out the day of independence, culminating in a celebratory dinner at Butcher and Singer.

Top left: Geno’s/Pats Cheese Steaks; Walking tour of Philly; 18th birthday celebration at Butcher and Singer; Once Upon a Nation, short oral historical stories around Old City

At this point, we are seven weeks into our journey, approximately half way. With the beginnings of fall showing itself, Dan and I have decided to take in the fall colors in New England, starting with New York next week.

Birdies and Bourbon

Peru, Indiana was our first night out of Michigan, and we played 9-holes at a rustic golf course and Harvest Host. I call it rustic because this course displayed more tall blonde grasses and natural flora than the last one we visited, which had artfully arranged groupings of plantings and flowers. Deep among the backroads, only country sounds kept us company for the two hours we played. For dinner we ventured into the downtown area and tried a 5-star rated restaurant, which I rarely see, by TripAdvisor (Voodoo Public House). The décor and atmosphere were artsy with a hint of Venice Beach funk, but the food reflected the chef’s true culinary talents by the sophisticated flavor profiles and knife skills in this elevated pub food. Dan and I shared a taco variety of such complex flavors, including roast duck and banh mi.

The next morning, we met for breakfast with a few old work friends of Dan’s, who have retired to the Noblesville area. After catching up over eggs and pancakes, we hit the road down to Kentucky, and by mid-day we were on a trolley touring Louisville-the perfect rainy-day activity. On the tour we learned of the diverse history and cultural influences woven into the fabric of Louisville creating a unique pattern for this small city.

From Louisville we followed the Blue Grass Parkway, tracing the Kentucky Bourbon Trail. The flat farmlands of the north have morphed into rolling blue grass hills the closer we move toward the Appalachian Mountains, and pines have been replaced with oaks. With the slow drawl and everything either smothered or fried, we know we are officially in the south. Our first night in Kentucky we stayed in Frankfort, ate along the Kentucky River at Bourbon on Main and listened to some live country music.

Clockwise: Breakfast with Ira, Dave, me, Dan, Cathy, Haley; trolley tour of Louisville, “if it ain’t fried, it ain’t food”; Kentucky River

Bourbon production 101 at Buffalo Trace Distillery was on the agenda for the next day where we learned the science of making, aging, and storing their caramel colored spirits; bourbon is only made in the USA. Small country towns are the anchor between the distilleries and black-fenced horse farms along the back roads of Northern Kentucky. We lunched in Bardstown at Mammy’s kitchen where Dan and I shared a Hot Brown-a rich open-faced melted sandwich created in Kentucky.

Our last night was spent in Lexington at a golf resort & spa, yet another Harvest Host dry camping spot. Because the resort was kind enough to let us park with views of the 4th green for the night, I won’t mention the name, but the course was a disappointment. This wasn’t a charming country course we’ve become accustomed to, but a large grass park and trees. Pristine greens and fairways were replaced with pocked ones, and any sounds of nature were drowned out by the semis whizzing down the freeway alongside the back nine. We did take full advantage of the clubhouse facilities before departing for the Ohio River Byway, making our way to West Virginia.

Lake Michigan Circle Tour

Sand dunes, light houses, harbors, cozy little towns, and fruit farms describes some of the sights seen on our Lake Michigan Circle Tour. We’ve replaced the mountain peaks for thick forests stretching down to the water’s edge. We left Manistique, cut north to Munising Bay, and jetted out to picture rocks along the National Lakeshore on Lake Superior, the largest fresh water lake in the world. These sandstone cliffs over 500 million years old have been stained blues, greens, yellows, reds, and golds by daily trailings of mineral rich spring water, creating permanent colored designs on the rocks. Some say water is life giving, others say, it’s destructive. To me, water is nature’s medium, staining, etching, and carving the land into one-of-a-kind masterpieces for us all to view in wonder.

After lunch we drove east to Sault Ste. Marie to observe the Soo Locks. These aquatic engineering marvels allow ships up to 1,000 feet long to descend twenty-one feet from Lake Superior down to Lake Heron without having to portage their loads. Once we arrived through the visitor’s gates, Dan made a beeline to the viewing area and flew up the two floors to see a boat in the locks. The boat left and we walked the length of the locks, but once he saw a new, even larger ship enter the locks area, we booked it back for a front row view. This huge freighter from Lake Superior was held in the locks, dropped twenty-one feet with the water, and then released out the Lake Huron side.

After we viewed the locks in action, we walked across the street and had dinner at the Locks View Restaurant where we could see ships come and go from the second-floor dining room while we ate Michigan white fish beer battered and fried with chips. I think Dan wishes we had done a boat tour of the locks instead of the rocks. This engineering marvel seems to bring the kid out in everyone.

*Painted Rocks, Lake Superior; Soo Locks, Sault Ste. Marie (ship before and after being raised from lower Lake Heron to enter the higher level of Lake Superior); my new mosquito hat.*

A short forty-five-minute drive from Sault St. Marie is the ferry dock for Mackinac Island. Early the next day, we parked in St. Ignace, boarded the ferry, and within fifteen minutes landed on the carless island in the middle of Deep Blue. Stepping off the boat, I half expected to see Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck waddling down the cobblestones, because the downtown area has that Main Street USA of Disneyland feel to it. The streets were filled with excited tourists, peddling bikes or riding in horse-drawn carriages-the only two forms of transportation used to circle the island. The cloudless sky was reflected in the crystal water and the mild weather provided a welcome pause in the humidity we picked up east of the Dakotas. We shopped, strolled, and ate our way around the tiny island, admiring the summer homes of the wealthy mainlanders. After a water-front seafood dinner, we boarded the late evening ferry for our last night in the UP.

Top Left: Walking Macinac Island, mile 0 of 8 miles; crystal blue lake water; sunset dinner over lake

Charlevoix and the lower west coast of Michigan was our destination on Tuesday. An upscale lake and marina community, allowing for the privileged set to enjoy the calm bays in their large speed boats or yachts, Charlevoix reminded me of the many Southern California beach communities (Palos Verdes, Dana Point, Marina Del Rey) that I grew up around. On our initial stroll of the downtown area, we happened upon the Harbor Master’s office in Bridge Park, and with a simple signature, they checked out beach cruisers to us for the day. With map in hand we coasted Shoreline Drive and the Mushroom Houses of the area. These are gnome-looking homes, some with thatch roofs, designed and built of original stones from the area. Only twenty minutes south of Charlevoix we were back in the country and parked in the middle of a fruit orchard by mid-day relaxing on Friske Farm and Market. After buying everything cherry, we settled in for a quiet afternoon and evening on their farm.

Bottom Left: Mackinac Bridge, biking around Charlevoix, Mushroom house of Charlevoix, chilling out at Friske Farm for the evening.

Up the next morning and following the country road, byway 31, we passed one farm with attached market after another, only broken every few miles by an inlet or bay offering every on-water activity available. Our destination on this last evening in West Michigan, along the Lake is not an upscale or must-see destination, but Shelby the location of a Harvest Host golf course and our fish boil dinner. Between the bucket list locales, we enjoy veering off the beaten path to stay at some Harvest Host destinations. They usually take us to non-touristy parts of the states where we can get a real feel for the area. Our favorites have become the farms with the multitude of edible goodies and the golf, of course. Today’s golf course (Oceana Golf Club) looked like a page out of Country Living with cherry orchards stretching alongside the greens and thoughtfully arranged floral landscaping.

We had enough time for 9-holes before our short drive to Cherry Point Farms for a traditional Norwegian fish boil, only available on Lake Michigan. Served family style we dined in the farm’s garden on long white tables with locals of the area. A thirty-gallon cauldron was set ablaze, flash boiling large baskets of white fish, potatoes, and onions. The spectacle was exciting and worth the trip. What a great way to end our last night in West Michigan. Tomorrow we will stop in Holland, MI for lunch and continue on to Indiana.

Clockwise from top: Cherry Point Farm Fish Boil; Sues, Barb, Chuck, John, and other locals who displayed pure Michigan hospitality by inviting us to dine with them at their table during the traditional Norwegian Fish Boil; sunset over dunes by Sable Point; Holland, MI

Great Plains to Great Lakes

My arms were plumb tuckered out by the 17th hole at the emerald-green country course in Mitchell, SD. I don’t know if it was the constant slapping at the mosquitoes or the fact that someone replaced my 7-iron with an old-fashioned sickle, because I seemed to be cutting grass in the rough more than anything else. We finished the day running errands and doing chores for the next morning we had a scheduled 25,000-mile service for the van. Mercedes gave us a loner car for a couple hours while they worked on our van and we ate lunch and toured the fantastic Sioux Falls and the attached multiuse park surrounding them.

Once the van was finished, we were on our way to Minneapolis, Minnesota. Along the three and a half hour drive we saw what Dan calls the three C’s of Minnesota-clouds, cows, and corn. But once we reached the city limits, Minneapolis looked just like any other big city, driving around the streets we could have been in LA, Vegas, or even Seattle. The true character of a state is held in its smaller towns, which we’ve come to love.

We started the next day at Mall of America-the largest mall in USA. After a three and half mile stroll, circling four levels of every retail chain known and gimmicky tourist restaurant available, we left the big city outside of St. Paul and picked up the start of the Great River Road, scenic byway 61, following the Mississippi River down to La Crosse, Wisconsin. At lunchtime we pulled into an overlook at Lake Pepin and watched bald eagles soaring above looking for their own meal while we listened to Huckleberry Finn on Spotify. In Wabasha we stopped at the Eagle Preservation Institute and witnessed more eagles soaring above the banks of Ole Miss.

Bottom left: Golfing before the mosquitoes got us; Sioux Falls, Mall of America, Minnesota; Eagle preserve along Mississippi watching eagles above

Once in La Crosse we drove to the river’s edge to buy tickets for the next morning’s riverboat cruise and happened upon a concert in the park. We parked along the water, pulled out our chairs and enjoyed the 80’s revival band, ate good food, and engaged in lively conversation with a few locals who gave us suggestions on routes and stops. The next morning, we reluctantly left the Great River Road and its quant towns for the cooler weather in Upper Peninsula, Michigan. We drove directly across Wisconsin, passing one corn field and red barn after another, only stopping to sample cheese and squeaky curds, until we settled in the lakeside town of Fish Creek of Door County, Wisconsin.

Door County is called “The Cape Cod of the Midwest.” Lying between Green Bay and Lake Michigan, this lushly forested peninsula is laced with unique shops, galleries, privately owned restaurants, golf courses, spas, and farms selling fresh produce. In Huckleberry Finn speak, “a body could easily spend a week here ‘bouts.” Door County is our start of the Lake Michigan Circle Tour, which will take us through the Upper Peninsula and down through the state along the Eastside of Lake Michigan.

Top Right: Wisconsin; American Duchess on Mississippi in La Crosse, WI; *Door County-cherries*; Amish riding on country roads across Wisconsin

The Canadian Rockies

The Canadian Rockies, while similar in geography to Glacier National Park, is in a league all its own with untamed, pristine beauty frozen in time. The first part of our stay we explored Banff National Park, including the three iconic glacial fed lakes: Louise, Emerald, and Moraine. While we enjoyed the views from a six-mile hike to the tea house high above the milky sage colored Lake Louise for a cuppa and some scones, and later lounged on its banks, resting our weary muscles, it was Emerald Lake that stole our hearts. Maybe it was the rustic lodge with its plush leather chairs that beckoned us in for the view of the jewel-toned lake with our lunch or the serine environment, sans the masses and tedious shuttle busses that we experienced at the other two silty bodies of water. Emerald lodge serves Rocky Mountain Cuisine, which I would describe as similar to that of the lodge, elevated quality with rustic influence. After lunch we looped the lake, taking in the beauty from all angles.

Lake Louise; we hiked to the tiny speck in middle of forest

The Gypsy Guide App directed us to the equally as beautiful, yet less chaotic Yoho National Park for sites skipped by many other park dwellers. We spent the day following his suggestions, which always afforded exceptional sites and a unique experience. There was even one time we were driving back to our base camp and Gypsy Guide said to look up along the train tracks because it’s common to see bears feeding off of the spilled grain, and, I kid you not, a momma and her two cubs were galloping along the tracks right on cue. Now, how did he do that?

Day three was spent at a relaxed pace, touring Banff townsite, golfing at the Fairmont Banff Springs, and lunching along the Bow River – a nice reprieve from the first two busy days. The next day we decided to drive north, away from the crowds, toward Jasper and stopped at a brand-new campsite along the Icefields Parkway (Silverhorn). After cruising the sites, we picked a prime spot next to the babbling creek with views of towering mountains and hanging glaciers. A few miles before the campground, we pulled into a suggested photo op stop of Peyto lake. Here we could follow the glacial stream water right from its source, feeding the aqua blue lake. I don’t think Crayola makes a crayon this color.

It’s 4:30pm. As I sit here writing this blog entry let me describe to you my surroundings. Perched on our plush King wide bed, both back doors and side slider are fully opened, completely screened – of course, wafting the sweet mountain air in and through the van. Dances with Wolves CD is playing on the blu ray, but not too loud as to drown out the tumbling Silverhorn Creek running past our backyard or my Man working out back on the fire. The wall to wall windows in the Van allow for 300-degree views, binging the outdoors in while we enjoy the modern amenities we are accustomed to. Tonight, we’re having apple cider bison sausages on the open-wood grill, along with other fresh fruits and veggies we picked up at the store before our trek northbound. This is my kind of camping!

Today we beat the crowds to the Columbia Icefields – the halfway point to Jasper townsite. Camping this far north on the Parkway gave us a one-hour head start from others departing the Banff or Lake Louise area. As soon as we left the Banff National Park and entered into Jasper National Park the geography dramatically changed. No longer are the mountains lined with mature pine-forests, meadows filled with wildflowers, or sweeping displays of vegetation; the landscape is stark, draped only with glaciers and high-alpine fur. We’ve stepped back in time. Just standing on the edge of a glacier, we’re witnessing history. The glacier melt trickling down the face to meet the stream below could be from snow fall over one hundred or more years ago. To gain a better perspective we took a popular hike in the area called Wilcox for a birds’ eye view of Athabasca Glacier, the one we walked to earlier in the morning. There we met and chatted with Jenny F., her husband, and their friends visiting from Tennessee, who were nice enough to offer up a spot on the property of their mountain home in the Great Smokies for us to park after we told them of our travel plans to the area.

The quant railroad town of Jasper, about one hour north of the Icefields, has a little more casual, laid-back feel than Banff, but similar in appearance. The surrounding landscape, though, is quite different. The naked mountain tops are scarred from eons of glacial ware, and at first blush the thick pine forests appear to be changing in color, like one would expect to see with some trees during autumn, but we later learned that the yellow and brown evergreens are evidence of the tiny pine beetle devastating the mature forest.

Hike Around Maligne Lake, Bull Elk, Dan’s Mosquito Abatement Outfit

After two days of hiking with the mosquitos and sightseeing, we found ourselves back down south at our favorite spot by Silverhorn Creek. But on our last evening in Jasper we took a long twilight soak in the open-air Miette Hot Springs. While crowded with other heat seekers, the views of the surrounding mountains were spectacular. I can only guess how cool it would be to soak under the field of stars from the late-night sky. Tomorrow we leave the Canadian Rockies for the Columbia Valley Golf Trail for some golf and relaxation at the Copper Point Golf Resort, then it’s back to Whitefish, Montana where we turn East toward Mount Rushmore.

A River Runs Through It; Going to the Sun Road

July 23, 2019

Scenic Byway 93 carves north from the luxury resort town of Sun Valley, Idaho through the serrated peaks of the Sawtooth National Forest where we camped one night at Redfish Lake in Stanley, Idaho. The next morning, we stopped at a local’s bakery in the small town of Stanley for some buttery flakiness then traced the Salmon River into the Bitterroot Valley of Montana, famously known for the fly-fishing movie A River Runs Through it. Figures in waders can be seen standing on the shore rhythmically casting their line to and fro with the hopes of catching “the big one.”

Redfish Lake in Sawtooth Mountains – Stanley, Idaho

The University of Montana Golf Course in Missoula was our end destination for our first night in Montana – a Harvest Host spot tucked against rolling hills with deer roaming the grounds. We regretted not eating dinner at the course restaurant where the chef utilizes fresh ingredients from its very own organic garden, serving such dishes as goat cheese-stuffed zucchini blossoms. At least that’s what the gardener told me the next morning when I bummed a couple pieces of lettuce from her for our lunch that day.

We played 9-holes that morning and then continued up the 93 to the cute little town of Whitefish, one of the gateway towns of Glacier National Park. The drive was short, but the day was filled with errands and chores, preparing for the next three days in Glacier National Park. That night we had dinner at one of the best comfort food restaurants within the past six states – Loula’s. I have to agree with the other 1,000 reviews on TripAdvisor that gave it 4.5 stars.

Glacier National Park, the Jewel of the Continent, for us was all about hikes, huckleberries, and glacial waters. We scored a first come-first serve lakeside campsite on McDonald lake, two minutes from the log-style lodge of the same name. Sometimes it’s better to be lucky than good. We returned for a mediocre dinner at the lodge after a full day of Park exploration and the Going to the Sun Road tour using one of my favorite apps, Gypsy Guide. The next two days were filled with popular hikes in the park, one along the mudrocks and cascading turquoise waters of McDonald Creek and the second to see St. Mary’s and Virginia waterfalls. While the single park road was busy, we never felt crowded on the trails by other visitors. Good food was limited in the park, but Apgar campground has a decent sandwich and burger stand and huckleberries served in many forms, our favorite being the ice cream. Tomorrow we leave for Canada. Still looking for campground suggestions for Jasper/Banff area.

Iconic Big Horn Sheep of Glacier National Park

Hidden Lake at Logan Pass. Bear sightings so could only hike to overlook

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do…Explore. Dream. Discover.” -Mark Twain

After two years of FreeWheeling through 45 out of the 50 United States and Alberta, Canada in our twenty-foot long touring van with a built-in kitchenette, wet bath, and king-size bed. We have perfected glamping and luxury vanning. With a few travel apps and National Geographic’s Scenic Highways & Byways, we chase good weather and hop from one national park to the next. This blog reflects the locations we explore, the apps we use, and how we maintain a healthful lifestyle while living full-time on the road.

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