Well, hello, Aristotle (if you have forgotten, Aristotle is the name of our camper)! So good to be back in your gracious confines. It’s been a long seven months without you. Did you miss us? Over the past seven months we were doing a little more luxurious traveling, staying in some nice hotels, and, frankly, I dearly missed my time on the road with Aristotle. I missed the daily hikes, the life in the backcountry, the surprises (some good, some really challenging) that come with life in a camper. We’re only a few days into a few weeks tramp and it feels so right and familiar. So… wondering what we are doing? This picture captures it all
The road to this lovely, secluded spot came with a bit of stress, nail biting bumps and a roller coaster ride in the back while Matt navigated huge potholes and I held cabinets in place. Think massive earthquake – don’t recommend riding the camper roller coaster. Alas, there’s the pot at the end of the rainbow, a dream campsite, in the sun, good weather, lots of nearby hiking, waterfalls, streams, and lakes. Just when all was going perfectly well, the stoic gods and Zeus decided to throw us a challenge – snow and cold weather (so need for lots of propane heat) combined with clouds (so no solar). Should I say that we thought one tank would be good enough for our entire trip? We might be going through one tank in a few days!
The snow didn’t stop us from enjoying a few hikes, so between hovering around the heating duct or snuggled under the thick covers we decided to venture out to the famous “Blue Lakes”. What did we see, learn? That during the seven months we completely forgot the lessons in preparedness! Oh – and we forgot that a bit of snow on the ground at the base of the hike might mean lots of snow on the hike.
From the idyllic beginning of a few waterfalls, wildlife (literally that fox trotted about 20 feet from us), stream crossings, to the challenge of steep hillside snow climbing (at times we would sink in to our knee caps or slip precariously down), and finally the reward of a beautiful lake. Sadly, we hadn’t planned well enough. After a few seemingly near-death experiences of slipping and beginning to fall off the mountain, we found nature-made walking sticks to help in the journey. Of course we also hadn’t planned on the amount of time it would take, so we were pushing the limits of sunlight. Admittedly, I got a bit stressed and tried to rush us along, much to Matt’s chagrin. Would like to do this hike again, but with proper gear – waterproof shoes, hiking sticks, crampons for the shoes (my running shoes proved useless for repelling water and getting a grip on the mountainside). The pictures belie the challenge as I was unwilling to pull out the phone to snap a shot while desperately trying to stay alive. Didn’t want to end up a selfie example or in the Darwin Award column.
Might have more posts later – as we will definitely have stories from a few more hikes, mountain biking rides, and adventures into town (thinking the clothing optional hot springs – and, no, I’m not snapping photos there either). And since we now have Starlink for internet service (FAST) we hopefully can post from just about anywhere.
When bad things happen, good people show up. I find this to be true often, but rarely as spectacularly as it was on this trip. Let’s start at the beginning.
At the end of the last trip (my trip solo), I felt empowered, smart, and lucky. Empowered as I navigated Aristotle on a solo trip. Smart as I was able to find that spot – the last spot available in practically all of Idaho. Lucky as Twin Falls airport allows you to park cars there for free. I nestled Aristotle into a tight 10×30 parking spot, drove to the airport and bid Plato farewell in a convenient and free (!) airport parking spot. All was good in the world. (you are welcome to compliment me on my parking… okay, truth be told, it took me about 30 minutes to maneuver into the spot, but I got it in!!!)
Two months later, I learned that free isn’t always the best option. Good news? The car was still there and battery hadn’t died… it started immediately. Bad news? A nest of rats had also found a free location with tasty wires inside Plato’s engine bay. As we started driving down the road towards Ketchum, Idaho, it became quite apparent that the car just wasn’t in good shape. Check engine light, service light, faulty temperature sensor, no AC, then, finally, limp mode. We were 3 hours from the dealer and stuck down a dirt road in the forest.
Enter stage door left – good people. Meet Dave Stone, the owner of Sun Valley Auto Club. We were desperate to find service for Plato with few options. As Dave’s place both housed, serviced, and dealt with many Porsches (mainly vintage) we hoped he might have a solution. And, if not a solution, then at least looking at pretty cars might cheer up Matt.
At hearing our predicament on our 20th anniversary no less, Dave put on his superhero cape and came to the rescue. He first offered to trailer our car the 2.5 hours to Boise and in the meantime loan us his personal SUV so we could continue camping and getting around. When the SUV wasn’t immediately available, he loaned us his precious 1961 Porsche Cabriolet – red and beautiful. It wouldn’t quite tow Aristotle, but it was great for a day outing. I’ve given his SUV (a Denali) the name “Da Vinci” and his Red Porsche “Florence Nightingale”.
Think the pay it forward ends there??? Nope. We took Dave and his wonderful wife, Laura, to dinner as a small token of our appreciation. While at dinner (as an aside, it was a really good dinner at Knob Hill Lodge – highly recommend), another gentleman who clearly was a recipient of Dave’s good graces sent over a nice bottle of wine. Did the generosity stop there? Nope…. Dave and Laura then invited us to join their weekend fun at their amazing compound in the middle of the Sawtooth National Forest. We brought Aristotle to continue the camping feel, but definitely availed ourselves to their whiskey, wine, food and gourmet smores around the campfire.
The generosity of Dave and Laura is astounding and was a reminder of how good people are. Another positive about the whole adventure – we ended up staying in the Ketchum/Sun Valley area longer. Ironically, thousands of miles from our home, we had a very busy social calendar. Dinners with our new friends, the Stones, dinner and too much (way too much – sorry, McNair) drinking with our former neighbors (Will & McNair Bailey – now residents of Ketchum), a nice cocktail hour with Matt’s second cousin, Stephanie, and mountain biking with Dave’s brother. The learning lesson here? Maybe we should be staying in one place a lot longer.
We found Ketchum/Sun Valley to be a little paradise. Last picture is of a wonderful lake on a hike near Galena Lodge.
Why “Wildness”? I’ll get to that at the very end (patience). First apologies. It’s been ages since I’ve posted anything. Sorry. Been busy. So, hi again! We could spend time backtracking on experiences had, but reflecting accurately months later is like remember an evening with a lot of wine. It’s a bit fuzzy. I could post some old pics from the previous time, and may that will happen at the end of the post… for now, let’s be in the now.
I’m solo again. (Much to Matt’s chagrin as his jealously seeps into the “so happy for you” when we chat while I’m on a hike and he’s putting toothpicks in his eyes working 15 hours on a work project at home.) It’s exciting, empowering to be out traveling on my own. Okay, admit it, you are thinking, “is it safe?” Now, would you ask Matt the same if he were solo? No, you say? No, because he’s a male? Bigger than I am? Let me remind you that Matt and I are not far off in the weight category. Weight aside, his punch might do more damage than my punch, but the key is to not need the punch. Just saying, it’s just as safe for me as it is for a male. If a cougar attacked, the outcome might be much the same. If a crazy wanted to hurt you, again, much the same outcome. Of course Matt does have his usefulness. He knows the ins and outs of every part of Plato (the car) and Aristotle (the trailer), so when you come across a sign saying, “danger low hanging (insert danger)”, his reaction may be different than mine. I saw the sign (below) and was struggling to remember Aristotle’s height as a barreled down the road towards the lines that would fry my hair ends. This was after turning onto a road where “the pavement ends” and there are signs of restricted activity everywhere around you. Was I going to disappear from making the wrong turn or burn up into nothing? It did cross my mind. Like Aretha, I said a little prayer, and kept driving.
There was definitely a pot of gold at the end of the journey – one of the best spots I have ever had while camping! I arrived at Jug Hollow Dispersed Camping at Flaming Gorge, picking a fine spot in a bay near a few other campers. I was originally happy with spot, and then an hour later a huge RV, I mean a small city on wheels, showed up and camped in my viewshed. Kinda ruined the experience. A bit depressed I went for a run down the road and found an isolated spot a mile further down on a rocky beach. Ran back, packed up, and made the journey there. It was worth the effort.
Yes, I found the most perfect spot at the Flaming Gorge Recreation Area. I had a private beach, save a few boats once in a while. I was going to make some comparison to the movie, “The Beach”, to be clever, but I just watched the trailer and it’s not really the same.
Next stop was Goodenough Creek Campsite in McCammon, Idaho. A BLM (in other words, public land) campsite. Instead of the normal open range, find the best spot possible, this was more organized campsites. If you have not been to Idaho, it’s really beautiful and has great, diverse geography. The area had only a few campsites and I was lucky to get one, even luckier to have back-up into the campsite without incident. I spent the next four days working, hiking, eating, reading, and just being. I did make a friend, another woman out on her own for quite some time, working from the road and seeing all the beauty our west offers us.
So, now to the point of wildness. It’s really a reference to a book Matt’s cousin gave me. The book is The Abstract Wild by Jack Turner. Essentially it’s a bunch of heady essays on deep ecology. One of the chapters talks about wildness. Wildness is that encounter with nature where you are truly part of the ecosystem as prey or predator, not a consumer of the experience. The thesis is that we really don’t have wildness anymore, we cannot experience what our ecologically minded early settlers experienced – direct interactions with mountain loins, bears, all sorts of top of the chain predators. I’m an environmentalist, but I have to admit, I don’t really want to meet up with a mountain lion while I’m alone on a trail. It’s not a badge I’m looking to earn (post mortem). But, that doesn’t mean that traveling solo, hiking solo, getting out there isn’t a form of wildness. Man, I’ve encountered some pretty wild folks – or at least they smell wild. And, I’ve still had visual and real encounters with the nature around me that stick in my mind.
Last stop for trip was a place I’ve already been, Twin Falls, Idaho. I’m camped in a county park on a creek preparing to store Aristotle and fly home.
Damsel in distress. Okay, I’m not generally a damsel in distress. Friends, colleagues have told me that I sometimes frighten others. I think it’s my inherited, angry frown line that belies my feelings… or relays what I’m feeling (beware). Regardless, there are times that we all want to be “saved”. Being saved may mean so much and it doesn’t necessarily indicate weakness, just a moment in time when having someone else help you out makes a huge difference. This was a few days ago.
We are parked in a beautiful area south of Tucson, near a small town called Tombstone (think old west, think famous shoot outs…). Anyway, we are 15 miles outside of town, down a washboard dirt road, parked in a national forest. well, there isn’t much of a forest but amazing “jumbo-rock” like mountains.
I went for a hike, with the intention of heading down… or rather up a trail for about 4 miles. Matt was going to do a mountain bike ride. All was good. Water in hand, satellite communicator ready, mapped out trail on phone, hat and sunscreen applied. The beginning scenery of various cactus species interspersed with oak trees, thorny shrubs, towering rocks, and brilliant blue sky beckoned you onward to even better views. All went well until mile 3 (at least for me, the hiker). At mile 3 the trail became obscured by brush and thorny shrubs while the ascent turned from doable on two feet to scrambling on four feet. Then the rock slides happened while navigating slopes that looked like a 50 -60 degree pitch. It was very sketchy even as a hike/scramble towards the end. There was no real trail and most of the mountain was navigated by using all fours to keep from falling, sliding, or rolling down the mountain. At the top, I looked at my trail map and decided not to ascend the treacherous rock slide hill, but instead take the trails going around the mountain. Being the communicator that I am, I texted Matt letting him know that I would be much later than expected. Instead of taking the route four miles back, I was looking at around nine miles. Matt responded quite quickly, surprisingly. He was also on a challenging trail and decided to finish it, but knew that it would take a while.
Long story short, Matt had taken the same trail I had, but he was riding, hauling, carrying, and finally dragging his bike up the cliff to finish the trail. Here’s a quick clip on his experience.
Why did he not turn around? Beats the hell out of me. In the end, when my calculated nine miles back became eleven and I was just hoping to be saved (ie. hoping that Matt had reached the trailer and would come save me), I was sadly mistaken. Instead of being the one saved, I reached the trailer first and got an SOS call from Matt along the same trail I had taken. It was dark, it was cold, and he had still 10 miles to go. All downhill, but sketchy, 41 degrees and in the shade. Wanting to be saved, instead I became the savior.
So, the moral of the story? Not really sure… you fill in the blanks. Despite the challenges of that one day, we loved, loved this campsite. One of our top five. Pictures from hikes and the campsite for your enjoyment. Oh… and the yellow circle is around a climber.
Really, Bobbi, instead of Lucy, and I’m on a trail, rather than in the sky, and, well, the diamonds are actually quartz crystals, not diamonds. However, the experience of floating above a sea of crystals on a trail in the middle of nowhere is magical and we all need a little bit of magic in our lives right now.
We started Trip Fourteen with a previous favorite spot in Big Bend Ranch State Park, and I ran down memory lane taking Crystal Trail to it’s famous point where crystals line the trails and sparkle like you couldn’t believe. The picture doesn’t do it justice, but believe me, it’s a site worth seeing. I did have a slight fear that it wouldn’t be there… that somehow the masses would have come and taken away the magic. Alas there it is…still sparkling in the sky.
Big Bend was like we remember – out in now where – Matt, me, the few other campers distantly around, the Rio Grande River, lots of trails, starry nights, no cell coverage, and the beauty of nature.
Unfortunately, there is only so many days we can do without cell service. Time to move onward, westwardly, hoping to stay in warm-ish weather. Next on the agenda was still Texas bound, but in a spot we’d never been – the Franklin Mountains State Park just North of El Paso. El Paso looks like an endless array of strip malls surrounding by concrete, asphalt, and lots of gravel-y dirt. Not a place I thought of stopping. And then, out of no where, is a huge natural area dominated by towering mountains. Our campsite looks really good… but in reality it’s a bit of dirt off a parking lot (don’t you love how we can make things look better than they are?). However, there are amazing tent campsites scattered around the park, so don’t discount the place. There are two really amazing RV spots – I just didn’t get them… Blame Matt, he doesn’t like to plan far enough ahead. Regardless the trail experience was lovely.
This reminds me of my basketball days and Dad teaching us the fundamentals of a pivot. The trick is to stay solid on the ground with one foot, while improving your position with the other. I’m still learning to pivot, and it’s an important skill to have when your environment changes.
So, pivoting is the theme of today’s post. What started off as a planned route (Las Vegas to Flagstaff to Santa Fe down the chimney of Texas to Austin) became a pivot around cold weather. Why, you ask, because, frankly, a high of the mid-thirties and a low in single digits shrinks the amount of time we spend outdoors and thereby shrinks our living space considerably. I do love my husband, but spending 24/7 in a space the size of a shoebox can create friction even in the best relationship. I like avoiding conflict (yes, brother Jim, contrary to your opinion, I do). So, in the middle of the night (really it was 8 pm and we were already under the covers in bed to stay warm) we decided to pivot from an easterly route to a southern one.
We did have a short opportunity to hike around Lake Mead on our overnight stop at the Boulder Beach Campground. Some pics of the scenery.
Next morning it was off to warmer pastures, pastures we have known, Craggy Wash near Lake Havasu City, AZ. Craggy Wash is off the grid campers’/squatters’ mecca. It’s designated as Bureau of Land Management (BLM) lands, so a lot is tolerated. ATVs, hunting, mining, and extended camping. We had some experience here, so knew that going deeper into Craggy Wash, would distance us from the the rumble of ATV exhausts and confederate flag flying homesteaders. Found a great spot to call home for a few days, not too far from some protected trails (SARA Park) that supported Matt’s addiction of mountain biking and my addiction to hiking.
The only downside of our pivot to Lake Havasu is that it got us no closer to Austin. Going to have to make up some miles in the next week so that we don’t miss out on Jim’s and Holly’s Thanksgiving extravaganza. Next stop? Still pondering the options. Flagstaff is getting warmer and more attractive. Oh… also found out that New Mexico is requiring any visitor from a “high-risk” state to quarantine. What states do they list as high risk? ALL of them. So, will have to plan ahead and decide if we are going to camp somewhere along that 373.5 mile stretch.
Matt and I disagree about photos. For him, landscape photos are meaningless without a human, pet, or toy in the picture. He says, “If you want a picture of the landscape, buy a postcard. It will be a better picture.” The postcard, though, isn’t proof that I saw it, that I was there. Whereas when I take a picture with my phone, I am saying, “I was here!” And, in Bryce Canyon National Park, I said, “I was here!” at least a thousand times.
Every turn in the park becomes a vision of pink, yellow, white, green with a backdrop of deep blue skies. It’s unreal. I took a hike from Bryce Point down into the canyon along Peek-a-boo trail, Navajo Trail, Horse Trail, and then back up along Rim Trail. Couldn’t stop taking pictures. Each time I put my iPhone away, I would turn a corner and come face to face with another gorgeous view. I finally just kept my phone in hand and just snapped away at will. Here are just a smattering from that hike (and, yes, I did feature myself in one and my shadow in another).
After the hike, it was time to rest by the lake near my campsite (Pine Lake). I alternated between reading, reading with my eyes closed, and casting a lure in hopes of scoring dinner. Well, my casting talents failed, but my friendly, smilingly talents paid off when another fisherman offered me his catch (he didn’t want to clean it). In case you are interested, the trout was stuffed with a butter, garlic, random herbs and lemon slices. It was then sauteed the over onions, shallots, peppers and mustard greens with lemon juice, dijon mustard and a little beer (was already drinking the beer so, what the heck!). Delish!
Of course, one day of hiking wasn’t enough, so the next day I hiked Fairyland Loop. Did you think that was the end of pictures. Oh no… so many more to enjoy….
Well, tomorrow will be the last day of enjoying this incredible scenery. So, as I leave it behind, I also leave you with a parting shot of the campsite at sunset.
Aristotle and Plato head for storage in Las Vegas, and I head home. Happy to be going home, but also anticipating the next adventure…
Usually I wait until the end of a trip to talk about it. But today was just one of those experiences I need to share in greater detail than I would in a normal trip post. It was the day I almost became one of those headlines “woman gets lost and dies 4 miles from campsite”. I always wondered how someone can be a few miles from their car in the woods and get completely lost. Now I know how that happens.
So first, let’s just appreciate the beauty of Castle Rock Campsite in the middle of Utah. It’s lovely and nestled into a small canyon. Beyond the stunning backdrop of these unique rock formations, there is a quaint creek that runs through the campsite and each spot is private. The one drawback – none of my trail finding apps showed any meaningful hikes in the area. Then, on a whim, I found that someone had done a “mapmyrun” at the back of the campsite, going about 1.5 miles up the canyon and along the creek. I found a trail! Noticing that this trail was not marked on TrailForks or even AllTrails, I decided it was my duty to hike the entire trail and plot the hike on an app for other dedicated trail users.
Online sleuthing uncovered the fact that this trail is marked on a US Forest Service map, but not easy to find. It indicated that the trail from the campsite (Joe Lott Trail) extended about 3 miles from the campsite to an interpretive display at the other end. Right before the display, another trail loops back and then you intersect one more trail that finally brings you back to an early section of the Joe Lott Trail. Seemed really doable, estimated around 6 miles for the hike, not a huge hike. So I grabbed my usual gear: bear spray (also usable on mountain lions and aggressive men); GPS tracker (with an SOS function just in case the mountain lion got a swipe in before I hit it with the bear spray); 12 ounce water bottle (it’s only about 6 miles); and my phone to track the hike into the TrailForks app.
Let’s just say, things don’t always turn out the way you expect. The Joe Lott trail isn’t used much, likely because, after mile 3, much of the trail is unmarked. It’s also not 3 miles long, it’s more like 6. After trudging along about 4 miles, all uphill, I found a collection of bones. May have been the last hiker that tried this trail and failed. At mile 4.5 the trail runs into a large meadow and there is no way to tell where it continues. No cell signal meant no way to look at an online map. I assumed continuing to walk in the same direction might be the best solution, and it would be easier to backtrack if all else failed. At that point I was thinking that I should have left markers/bread crumbs along the way to be sure to find my way back. Then mile 5 reaches a summit, but still no easily traceable trail. I took various deer/bear/elk paths hoping one might be the trail. One side path stopped at a deserted campsite where a pair of hiking shoes were left in desperation (maybe connected to the collection of bones found earlier?). Finally a rock cairns indicating signs of hope – there was a direction to be had. Finally, just before mile 6, I got a weak signal and was able to ascertain where the trail was and soon connected not just to the trail, but to the junction of the next trail. I would live another day.
Relief was instant. An easy to follow trail and it looked like it would just be downhill. No more uphill! It would be smooth sailing, downhill, back to the campsite. While that trail was downhill, my next trail needed to cross back over a mountain to get back into the original canyon. This trail, like Joe Lott, was occasionally obscured by overgrowth and was hard to follow.
By mile 8, I ran out of water. Mile 10 brought a few tears as I stared straight up. Finally at mile 11 the current connector trail ran into the early portion of the Joe Lott Trail. After 3.75 hours of hiking (and occasionally running, I arrived back at the campsite. As a side note, mile 5 took me almost 30 minutes between the uphill and wandering off side paths. Mile 10 took me 25 minutes with a steepness that challenged gravity. Here’s a link to my route on TrailForks.
Pictures along the way… I did stop to blend into the landscape. Didn’t realize that pink is useful camouflage.
COVID and foot surgery messed up a few things, like our plan to wander up to Banff, Canada this summer. Instead, we were lucky to make it to southern Montana. So while the final northern destination wasn’t so north, the experience and friends we saw along the way made time during COVID not so bad.
Like the last trip, this one began slowly with Matt finishing various improvement projects. He is a wanna-be engineer, architect, mechanic, and inventor all-in-one when it comes his projects. There is nothing he cannot tweak, sometimes with less-thandesirable outcomes. But, hey, that’s the joy in inventing. When the first attempt doesn’t work, try, try again.
This time the project was installing a pre-designed (courtesy of his newly learned CAD programming skills) under-belly storage. Airstreams, and Aristotle in particular, are high on design, and sometimes low on function. The only outside storage, or even storage space that is accessible from outside, is what they call a “trunk”. Think fanny pack on the back of the trailer. It’s narrow and thin and fits almost nothing. So after much designing, even planning each items location, Matt had an aluminum (he has corrected me to be exact, 0.09” 5052 aluminum) “belly” box that would supposedly install across the belly of Aristotle and slide out from either side. I could go hours and hours on the installation process, as it took many, many hours, but instead I will just show you the result.
Exciting… right?? There’s actually a lot to be said for having outside storage of things that deal with the black/grey tank.
Matt’s installation held as we got to our first campsite in the Dinosaur National Monument. Lovely spot, by the way, but lacks any cell service and if you are going to work on the road, it’s just not the right spot. We did venture out for a short hike before packing up and heading onward.
I should mention that while the belly box held during our quick stay at Dinosaur, our electric hitch literally burned up. Say what? Well, that’s kinda of an inconvenience and a lot of workout when you have to hand crank 1,000 pounds of tongue weight on our 8000 lbs of a trailer up and down.
To make it even more interesting, Matt tried really hard at the second campsite to lose the belly box. I distinctly heard something like, “WATCH THIS!” while Matt proceeded to drive up a steep, gnarly, boulder strewn, pot-hole ridden forest service excuse for a road outside the Grand Tetons. It was definitely not meant for cars pulling 28’ trailers. After about an hour of inching up the road, being chastised by locals passing us by running over the bushes on the side, and a little bit of yelling at each other, we called uncle and u-turned at an already occupied site. The following video is part of our downhill crawl. Hey, at least the belly box stayed intact.
That video showed us coming back down the road with our tail between our legs. Why, you ask, did we think torturing Aristotle and Plato by traversing a steep, pot-hole, rock ridden road? Well, frankly we arrived late to this popular national forest area and all the flatland spots were taken. Unfortunately, all the spots up the crazy road, at least as far as we got, were also taken. Luckily, someone took pity on us after our descent and offered to share their rather nice, large spot on the flatland campsites. Our campsite was officially called, Antelope Springs Designated Dispersed Campsite. We ended up spending four nights there sharing food, beer, wine, and dog walking fun (that’s a shout-out to TJ and his four-legged kids, Achilles and Hades). All in all, it was a great stay, good biking from the site, good biking east of Jackson, and, of course, a great hike in the Grand Tetons to Delta Lake.
For those of you interested in staying at this area, know that it’s very popular and a vacant site is like gold. But, people, in general, are quite nice, and there are some that will offer to share their spots. Also you never know when someone is going to bug out and leave a vacant spot.
Alas, it was time to explore again, so we hit the road headed North. This time, I selected Red Cliff Campground in Gallatin National Forest just north of Yellowstone and south of Big Sky. Would I recommend it? Not really my style, but the hosts were nice and it was convenient. The silver lining was the crazy coincidence of meeting a couple that grew up in the same area of Austin that I did! We first connected as they also had an airstream. It’s a small, small world. However much I would have loved to swap stories, the smoke was rolling into the area and the campground was a bit too close to the road to really enjoy. We did find a good hike/bike near Big Sky, though. Notice the smoke… that’s from California and Oregon. It was suffocating. Can you imagine what it was like in Cali or Oregon?
Bozeman was our next target, not just because one of my college friends, Shawnee Spitler, lives there, and that was a strong attraction, but also because we could get an electric jack replacement. I love exercise, but cranking that jack is a bit more than I wanted.
Bozeman, what a great college town! We marveled at its thriving downtown with eclectic shops and a local flair. Too bad the smoke from western fires were a bit overwhelming. Otherwise we would have stayed much longer. Instead we had a nice dinner with friends, overnighted on a fellow Airstream owner’s yard, spent about four hours installing a new electric hitch, and hit the road to cleaner air. Bozeman, we will see you again – you can count on it.
Better air was found in Pocatello, ID, at the southeastern part of the state. We pulled into town a bit too late to ascertain campsites, so used our handy Harvest Hosts and camped out at the Museum of Clean. Yes siree, there is a Museum dedicated to a clean world – not just cleaning appliances, though they have corned the market in older vacuum models, but also a clean outdoors, clean energy, and clean people inside and out. As expected the parking lot was also very clean and suited us, along with three other RVers.
An early rise (think clean living), gave us a jump start on securing a perfect campsite outside of Pocatello on Scout’s Mountain. This was a great base for tons of hiking and mountain biking. If you love mountain biking, there are tons of trails to be had in Pocatello. If you like food, well, it’s not a foodie’s mecca. It’s definitely not in the Bozeman category, but does have one fabulous brewery, Jim Dandy Brewery. So, if you stop in Pocatello, learn from the cleaning masters at the Museum of Clean, do an epic bike/hike, and recovery while drinking beers at Jim Dandy Brewery.
This marked the end of Trip Twelve A…. I’m separating the trip into two parts, the first part with Matt (Trip Twelve A) and then the second part of the trip without Matt (Trip Twelve Solo). But before I go, here are a few shots of friends found on the road…
Sometimes the path to paradise is a bit rough. At least that was our experience at the beginning of this trip. But before I start rolling down the road trip, I need to give a big shout out to my Uncle John. Yes, uncle, not cousin as he likes to say when introducing me to others trying to shed a few years. John gave Aristotle a home for a few weeks at his ranch in Rifle and allowed Matt to send countless packages. Beyond hosting us for a few nights, we raided his barn and toolshed for tools while finishing up a few new projects on Aristotle. We also emptied his water tank to fill up with fresh water on our departure. Thank you, UNCLE JOHN!
So, to Trip Eleven…. Even advance planning cannot predict 25 miles of a dirt, rutted, washboard county road that was the “quick route” to our first stop. The jostling really put Aristotle to the limit. A drawer ran away from its track, the wardrobe door almost rattled loose, the coffee maker shook free from its “secured” spot and dumped water everywhere, and we found some random small parts rolling around the floor. We stick those in a baggy and someday we may solve the mystery. What should have been about a 40-minute drive on that 25 miles turned into about an hour and a half. Then came the taller parts of the Rocky Mountains, and just when we needed the trailer brakes to work… nothing. They worked before we stopped for lunch which, of course, was all uphill. On a positive note, we had plenty of time to do some preliminary troubleshooting while stopped on the quiet county road due some poor souls medical emergency requiring a life flight out of the national forest. The highway must have been the best place for the helicopter to land. However, back to us. Still no luck on the brakes so we pulled off twice and Matt spent an hour or two lying under the rear bumper trying to figure out the problem. Volt meter testing, fuse changing, and lots of cursing didn’t seem to help. Could we make it to the camp site? Were there dangerous downhill sections? Luckily a local informed us that the descents between us the campsites and Fort Collins wouldn’t be so bad, so we pushed our luck. And, luck is what we would need to find a camp site on what was now a busy Saturday evening. I was sure that we would have to scrap the first stop and head to Ft. Collins. Maybe it was luck, but the reality is it was goodwill of another camping couple to be willing to share a peaceful part of paradise.
This campsite is Skyline Campground, a boondocking site just North of Chambers Lake (GPS coordinates for our spot: 4038’50”N 10551’30”W) in the Roosevelt National Forest in Colorado. It hugs the Laramie River, which is not terribly wide in this part. No cell signal, no wifi, just nature, some humans, and, generally, peace. I serenely watched a cute little bird body slam a beetle, during which time a hummingbird buzzed around my head, checking me out, and chipmunks searching for food all in the matter of minutes. While eating dinner one night, luckily inside Aristotle, we watched a brown bear amble through our campsite (maybe black bear?). Matt took a picture through our screened window, so it’s not great, but is proof! I will say the mosquitoes are abundant here. Somehow, they have adapted to 9,000 feet of altitude and nighttime lows of 40 degrees. But that 40 degrees certainly makes for wonderful sleeping weather!
Skyline is also near some nice hiking and mountain biking. I did a relatively short ride (6.5 miles) with Matt on a trail that ascended the forest and traversed some beautiful meadows with lakes. We would have stopped and enjoyed the scenery if it were not for the millions of aggressive, bird-sized mosquitoes that saw us as their last chance for a meal. “Knowledgable” people say mosquitos are bad flyers, but I swear a few swooped down as we descended some high-speed trails and lodged on the back of our exposed body parts long enough to get a good blood-meal.
The first segment of the trip highlighted that I am a bit out of practice in trip planning. Matt likes to say that we just roll down the road and don’t really plan that much. That’s because he doesn’t witness the hours and hours of planning that I do to research potential camping sites and routes for us to take. Given that I haven’t planned the trip in a few months, I forgot a few key rules of mine.
Working from the road requires access to a cell signal or wifi within 20 minutes of our site. Many campsite reviews through the apps/online websites will indicate cell signal for different plans.
It’s good to know where the diesel gas stations are on your route. We are about 60 miles from, what we have discovered, is the nearest diesel gas station. We have about 80-90 miles range left. It will be an interesting drive if we run out of gas and brakes. Had I planned ahead, we would have gotten gas enroute to the national forest.
Like gas stations, know where all the dump stations are. Generally you can use AllStays app or Sani-dump website to find those, but good to do that identification early in case of no cell signal.
But, I digress. We had a wonderful few days at the Skyline, and then hit the road again for a quick trip to Ft. Collins to visit friends, then onward in a northern trek.
Feeling the groove of the road, we headed to the Wyoming side of Medicine Bow National Forest. Ever heard of it? No? I hadn’t either. All I can say is “Wow” another less discovered gem of a forest. Even in peak season, with a rash of COVID-bored seeking an escape to camp, we found a lovely boondocking site just beyond the road to Brooklyn Lake (happy to give you the GPS coordinates… just ping me). This area does have tremendous wind that acts as a training wheel for the aggressive, and rather prehistorically sized mosquitoes. But that did not dampen our experience.
This national forest has crystal clear lakes everywhere, many teeming with trout. There are endless trails that snake from one lake to another, through alpine forests, meadows exploding with ornamental flowers and grasses, and out-croppings of rocks with intermittent snow patches. I tested my recovering foot on a solo hike, while Matt, as usual, tried to kill himself on a 3 1/2-hour mountain bike ride. Enjoy the scenery.
Yes, the rocks were part of Matt’s route, and, YES, that is snow!
The weather started turning a bit, clouds, spitting rain… would it snow? Does it snow at 10,600 ft in summer (that was the altitude at which we camped… we hiked / biked higher)? We really didn’t want to find out, nor did we want to spin our wheels in mud while trying to maneuver around the campsite. Time to pull chocks and move north. This time to Black Hills National Forest. Just so you know, we were kind of rolling the dice on whether a nice spot would be found. It’s late Friday afternoon. It’s summer. It’s COVID-escape time. Every other vehicle on the road is an RV/camper (many with side-by-side ATV’s in tow). We figured everyone would be looking for the same idyllic camping spot that we were and our nervousness was rising. There are only a smattering of “known” boondocking sites in Black Hills, and the organized campgrounds showed no vacancy. Moreover, I read that many of the roads start out rough and turn into traps for adventurously naïve RVers. This was going to be an adventure, an adventure I’m not sure I wanted after a 5 hour drive.
We arrived around 5 pm and headed up a road only to find a couple of the “known” spots were taken. To tell you the truth, those known spots were not so great, essentially pull-offs on the side of a somewhat narrow dirt road. In fact there were only pull-offs, and we had to do a creative 10-point turnaround to get out of that area. Finally, after about 30 minutes of searching, we settled on a spot requiring a tightrope drive straddling large washed out portions of road. The short video that I took while Matt navigated the road belies the obstacles, but does look cool…
Now, here’s the view from the windshield…
We finally nestled into our serene spot next to a babbling creek, wedged between a few pine trees, tall grasses, a band of flowers, and a ton of cow patties, some bordering on the obscene. Really. I wondered if some of these cows only poop once a month. We traded the nuisance of mosquitoes for hop scotching around cow poop. Let’s just say I’m better at hop scotch than Matt. As a result, Matt tried to flick a patty away from our door so we wouldn’t inadvertently step on it, and instead stirred up a fresh scent and marred the side of Aristotle with fragments of poop. Still, it’s a lovely campsite. And we figured out that covering/marking the cow-patties with rocks and sticks was better than trying to relocate them! (GPS coordinates: 43.9945 -103.4528). In short we totally lucked out. Seems most of the folks camping in the Black Hills prefer organized campgrounds, and that, along with a bit of luck and patience, worked out in our favor.
A few days of hiking, mountain biking, and swimming in the nearby lake was about all the fun we could take. It was time to move on to what we hoped might be another amazing spot overlooking the Badlands National Forest. And the view did not disappoint (GPS coordinates: 43.890031, -102.226789). Of course, we are sharing the area with a lot of other people that wanted the same view. If you happen to want to camp here, take a look at the spot via satellite image. You will see that the one road into the boondocking area splits at the ridge. You can go left or right. We went right – wrong choice (not necessarily a political comment). Go left instead, head about 2-3 miles down the dirt road, and you will find some amazing spots without being stacked on top of other people. Regardless it’s a pretty unique landscape.
At this point we started to think about the exit home, so decided to do a quick route back to Carbondale and use that as our starting point for the next trip. This meant about two stops, as, while I am a driving machine, pulling a hefty load for more than 5 hours is a bit tiresome. After some deliberation, debate, okay… maybe a little arguing, we decided on an overnight in Douglas, Wyoming at a very clean, small park on a river. Highly recommend if you need an overnight. Not only is the park clean, with grills and picnic tables, they also have a much coveted dump site and fresh water. That’s like gold on the road!
The last stop (Big Creek Lakes Campground in Colorado) for this trip was a bit off the beaten path – or it was on a path that really beat us up! Again, maps don’t really say the whole story. Like the story of a washboarded road that rattles your teeth out, your cabinets loose, shreds your coffee mugs and creates a small disaster zone inside the trailer. Luckily we remembered to drain the toilet. I would say the spot at the end of the road was worth it, and it was quite lovely, but I’m afraid the journey to that spot was a bit more expensive than we would have liked. We spent the first hour at the campsite reassembling the closet, cleaning up bits of ceramic mug, and finding random rivets here and there. The good news… all wine glasses remained intact! Wine was much needed to relax after the drive. Wine, a bit of hiking, and some fishing rounded out our last camping spot on this trip.
So, we packed up and got back to civilization in Carbondale, Colorado. Aristotle and Plato will be spending a few weeks in Carbondale until our next adventure.
