Oh, Canada… the people are friendly, the landscape is beautiful, and the towns can be surprising. A friend, in joking, said, “hoping not to lose you to Canada”. It has made me really think about what attracts us to a place for living. Frankly, I LOVE Chapel Hill. Why? Well, I’m not sure you can find another town so cultured, full of business opportunities, strong in diversity of people, surrounded by beauty, and as easy for living as Chapel Hill. But, Canada has a strong pull… especially now. Let me highlight our recent visited town, Nelson.
A bit about Nelson: Nelson is a vibrant city in southeastern British Columbia, Canada, known as the “Queen City”, population of about 11,000, famous for its 350 heritage buildings, and (according to a local) more restaurants per square foot than Manhattan. It’s hilly… more so than San Fran. The people are exceptionally nice, in a sincere way. It feels authentic – real – and not at all pretentious. I would live here. I would live here, but for my good friends and the climate. So, for now, I will visit.
We are already on this road, but it’s been years in the making. Banff has been a destination for Matt and me since 2020. We just assumed it would happen, but after six years we realized that it just doesn’t happen unless you make it happen. So, we are finally back in the camper with an extended timeframe – much longer than we have ever done before – with the destination of Banff. Why Banff, you ask? Well, for starters, images of Banff are rather enticing. But, maybe, Banff just denotes an area of the world, rather than a specific destination. The reality is that we will not camp in Banff (no dispersed camping and all campgrounds are busy), but we will see the beauty and the wonder of what this amazing place in the world offers. Thank you, Mother Earth, Indigenous people, and Canadians for protecting the wonder of Banff’s surrounding environment.
At this point, I should present all the lovely pictures of our travels. Our beautiful dog (yes, I can say that… he’s my dog and all I see is beautiful), our lovely camper, amazing campsites, great hikes (with pics that hopefully hide the sweat marks). AND, much of our trip is so like that… but as I write tonight there is a different story. Before that starts, a few pictures to see our life on the road.
Generally, our goal when camping is to find the perfect dispersed campsite—one tucked away in a wild place, far from other people. While this trip began that way, with dispersed camping in Colorado, that hasn’t been the norm. More often than not, we’ve found ourselves in places filled with other campers. Whether at a dispersed campsite or an organized campground, we’ve been sharing the landscape with many others.
As it turns out, though, perfect campsites may limit your experiences. Along this journey, we’ve met people who will stay with us forever. There was the family of nine living in a trailer and moving every two weeks. Their oldest son slept in the backseat of the car while completing his GED online so he could work during the day to help support the family. We met a young woman working at Glacier National Park who was living in a camper and relocating to a new campsite every few weeks. Then there was the young, vibrant couple traveling the country in a Sprinter van, the Italian couple celebrating their honeymoon, and the Canadian couple camping with their son to mark their tenth anniversary. We also had the privilege of friends joining us along the way, allowing us to share our joy. Thank you Tom and Naomi.
I could go on and on about the many people we’ve met. It’s been a smorgasbord of life. We may not have had the quiet solitude and intimate encounters with nature that we usually seek, but we’ve experienced something equally meaningful—a cross-section of humanity that broadens your perspective and reminds you how many different ways there are to live a life.
I love camping, not just for the natural encounters, but also the human ones. We learn from all of it.
Before I end this post, I should mention that the trip has not been without its wildlife encounters. Four weeks in, Matt has spotted one elk, two grizzly bears, and one black bear. I’ve seen only one grizzly bear and countless chipmunks (which are quite terrifying under a microscope). Matt has had a few bike crashes, and I watched my dog charge full speed through dense brush—only to run straight into a tree.
It all makes life interesting.
ps… if you are wondering who took the picture of us on Lake Louis, it was another couple that was canoeing near us. We swapped photos of each other.
I’ve been very lazy at blogging and posting pictures from our road trips over the last (ahem) few years. While I would love to relive and tell wonderful stories, frankly too much time has passed. Let’s just make this a photo montage of experiences and stories.
Pictures always help me remember events. Well, first, you might notice the furry addition to our camping trips. Yes, we now sleep three in the camper. Luckily he likes swimming in water so his consumption of our precious tank water is only for drinking and he bathes in nearby creeks, lakes, streams, and rivers.
Then… you might wonder, why the picture of a ladder? Well, that picture and the rather strange shot of my head were pictures from a three day trail race I completed in Utah (October 2025). It was a blast, sore legs and all.
How, nice, we are now in 2026… next post will focus on this year!
I’m writing this post on memory of the trip in Ajo, and with my aged brain that is a bit of a challenge. However, it feels unfair to skip Ajo – like overlooking a step child. Not sure what that really means, but I’ll go with the analogy.
Ajo, Arizona – a surprise in the desert. We camped just outside on BLM land next to quite a few dirt trails. The landscape is what you would expect in southern Arizona, lots of cactus, lots of dirt (everywhere), sand devils when the wind picks up, and no water to found. Dirt, dirt everywhere and no water to be found. It’s a stark landscape, but at the right time, it blooms.
And, while I would like to write a lot more… pictures do more justice. If you happen to stumble along the route and end up here, please visit the town and tour on foot. Galleries, interesting lunch spots, art murals, and a farmer’s market will make the foot excursion worth it.
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.
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…
