Camping

Should I Treat This Arch Delicately, a Sunless Black Canyon, and Wrathful Storms

uniquelytheo3 Comments

Having now spent three cushy nights in motels, it was time to quit babying myself and prepare to be back in the tent and camping.  Actually I am preferring my cozy sleeping bag and cot in the tent to a motel room and their pillow top beds — except when the rainfly leaks and I get rained on in the middle of the night. A stop at a grocery store on the way out was in order to have enough food for the next four nights of camping in national parks. After a resupply in Colorado Springs, I made my way out of town. and by now I was driving in Garden of the God’s territory  meaning towering red sandstone formations and landscape that became incrementally more beautiful the further southwest I traveled.

One of the downsides of traveling to the national parks now (or most areas as well) is that it is the “high tourist season” as well as the “high road construction season”. Quite often the two clash! Whether it is the turnpikes, interstates, or the secondary roads, there were not many stretches that I traveled where major road work wasn’t a huge barrier to maximizing quality time outside of my vehicle. I was in Colorado headed to the south rim of Black Canyon on the Gunnison National Park via Route 50  and had to wait almost an hour for a pilot car to lead a line of cars through the area being “refurbished.”  This of course was the time when the major road through Gunnison was also getting a shiny thick new layer of black asphalt and this provided a great olfactory experience of the aroma of fresh asphalt which had just been laid on the road about 100 feet from the campground. Most campsites were pretty squeezed but the one I had selected was quite roomy though I opted out of putting my tent on the area designated for a tent pad on the back of the site (more privacy) as it was clay and definitely would be a slick mess to slip and slide around on should it rain.

With many open site, up pulled a “loud family in training” right across from me, meaning there have been worse on this trip but they were practicing to compete for first place. In an amble about the campground I did not hear any other clearly audible conversation. It wasn’t even the ongoing noise that annoyed me (one comes to expect it) but soon the dad strung up several strings of lights running off a portable power pack (no electricity in this campground) . It wasn’t quite as bright as the Vegas Strip , but Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park has been certified as an International Dark Sky Park due to its exceptional skies and lighting practices. This guy was putting so much wattage into the air , that it definitely compromised the quality of star gazing that evening.

Is it all in the name? It’s moniker ” Black Canyon” is not derived from the color of it’s rocks but because the canyon is so narrow and so deep, reaching a depth of 2,722 feet, that sunlight barely reaches parts of the gorge each day (33 minutes), thus giving off an almost-spooky aura. With such an ominous designation, you might guess it is one of the least known and one of the lesser-visited national parks in the country. It ranks 47 out of 63 overall in annual visits. The Great Smokey Mountains has 13.3 million annual visits whereas Gunnison has 357,00

The next morning, I awoke to the patter of rain on tent but, but fortunately it stopped relatively soon so I did not have to figure out Plan B.   I was able to quickly get breakfast and get on the road.  I arrived at the already crowded visitor’s  center and made a plan to drive the 7 mile south rim road and explore most of its different views. But first I wanted to hiked a portion of the Rim Rock Trail before I wore myself out oohing-and-ahhing at the magnificence of this canyon, 7000 ft above sea level.

Hiking the rim from the visitors center to Tomichi Point was but a half mile and though it is described as relatively flat with some stairs and uneven ground, I found it a bit unnerving given the closeness to the “endless” drop of the canyon, so proceeded with great caution. I was stunned by the sheer depth of the canyon walls and narrowness of these canyon walls, the glimpses of the Gunnison River, the canyon ridges and rock spires that jut into Black Canyon, and panoramic vistas of the West Elk Mountains.

Not want to be miss out on any demarcated views , I motored on and began the routine of stoping at each pullout to and hiking each short trail to the viewing platforms. I began to develop a cadre of acquaintances   as I kept running into the same gazers at each pullout.  starting with Pulpit Rock.

Pulpit Rock .

Cross Fissures Overlook

Rock Point

Chasm View

Painted Wall

Standing 2,250 feet tall from the river to rim, Black Canyon’s Painted Wall is the tallest cliff in Colorado and it has been compared to the Washington Monument standing 555 feet and the Empire State Building at just 1,250 feet. Only Burj Khalifa in Dubai which is the world’s tallest building at 2,717 ft. has beat this massive cliff out.. Jackson Polluck and the many other abstract artist definitely were centuries behind the artistry of the natural forces of nature. My imagination went into high gear when coming upon some of the rocks lining the trail out to the painted wall and I started anthropomorphizing many of rocks and seeing cuddly rock creatures. Can you?

Cedar Point Nature Trail

Sunset View and High Point

At the end of the rim road and with plenty of time for additional adventure, I opted to drive the East Portal Road to Gunnison Dam. The road is paved and two-way but windy and steep, narrow and twisty, and tight curves with a 16 % grade in few places. If you have read previous blogs you know this is my favorite kind of driving. My heart beat rapidly with the sheer excitement of this challenging drive. I managed to avoid burning out my brakes. It ended in the Curecanti National Recreation Area. I had intended to dip my toes in the Gunnison but some how was not motivated at that point to do so.

Since I clearly had not had enough of driving twisty mountain roads, I drove down about 5 miles to route 50 to get ice so my groceries would not spoil. The store definitely had character. . 

It had been an excellent day with so much strong and bold scenery. It was time to head back up to settle into camp. Cook. Write. Organize  and enjoy the sunset all the while again inhaling the wafting fragrance of hot tar.

Friday, August 23 I woke another drenching rain.  The tents raincoat (a poncho I had in the car) which I draped over the netting and under the oozing rainfly had kept the inside of the tent mostly dry and me mostly dry.  The rain finally let up and I was able to get breakfast and coffee but figured there was no time for lingering as I wanted to try and break down camp before the rain started again.  It wasn’t to be.  A constant drizzle began so I was resigned to breaking everything down and wrapping it up, mud and rainwater as well.  The tent must have weighed an extra 5 pounds.  I was so very wet and bedraggled and I finally got loaded up and was off by 10:15.  

I did not have a terribly long drive so I decided to take what I hoped was a more scenic route to Arches National Park in Utah.  As I traveled further west the landscape became more desert like and was colored mostly in tans, yellows, and browns etc. My route took me down #143 and   before long I was in canyon lands with massive rock formations of all sizes and shapes and colors. It ran along the Colorado River and curve after curve got more colorful, fanciful and gorgeous.  

I arrived at Arches Visitors Center Friday 23rd around 4:00pm and learned the campground was 19 miles up the scenic road and would slow going and take about 45 minutes.  I was getting somewhat concerned as I saw some rather ominous looking clouds on the horizon and hoped I could beat any impending storm. 

Fortunately, it was still sunny upon arrival at the campground and I set about trying to dry out the tent, fly, ground cover, tent rain coat and any other sodden item. Though sunny I could hear the rumbling of thunderstorms much closer.  So I shifted into fast forward and basically just dumped everything into the tent that I would want for the evening.

Then, first a strong wind gust and then the rain blasted in so quickly that I ducked into the tent  but was wondering if perhaps I should have rode it out in the car.  But there I was in this flimsy nylon cloth shelter with its compromised polyurethane coating, feeling scared (I don’t scare easily) and fearful, since it felt so close I was sure that the lightening and its companion thunder were about to both fry me and deafen me. I was certain a tree would come crashing down on my not so safe place and the tent would sail away with me in it to OZ. Of course, if it had not been laden with me and all my stuff, it would have blown away. This massive storm raged on for at least a half hour or more and the thunder was so loud and so close as was the lightening, all of that time.   Talk about powerlessness. I could not do anything but just sit there and be frightened.  

The stormed moved on over the distance plateau and valley. Mother/Father Nature subsequently pretended it did not just have a out-of-control rage in the last hour but subsequently served up a beautiful sunset as a peace offering.

On Saturday 24th I was up and out early to hopefully get ahead of the crowds hiking the iconic Delicate Arch Trail. It was a halcyon day and I was psyched to commence the most prized hike of the entire trip. Delicate Arch is the largest free-standing arch in the park and so named because it is “the most delicately chiseled arch in the entire area.” But as I made my left turn to head down the 1.25 mile down to the trail head, I was met at the entrance of the access road with a Road Closed sign. A hiker who had walked the road down and was returning said that there was several feet of red dirt/clay across the road from the deluge of the previous evening and it would be 2-3 hours or more before the road would be opened. If I waited until then (it was already 9:00 am) it would be unbearably hot before I finished since I am the tortoise in the tortoise and the hare race.

So my natural choice was to walk 1.25 miles down the road to the trail head, 1/2 gallon of water in hand. I would worry about the 1.25 mile uphill climb after the strenuous hike i.e could hopefully hitchhike back up. Around 30 minutes later I was ready for the 3.2 mile hike on what is rated as a strenuous trail. The beauty of this choice is that there was hardly anyone hiking yet (no crowds like the normal disneyesque size queue hiking here today) so I encountered only a few more adventurous duos passing me by . This was an exposed trail with no shade. As it began it was quite a well defined trail and soon crossed a bridge over Salt Wash. But soon thereafter I encountered steep grades, rock steps, red rock slabs, areas of open slope of steep slick rock with exposure to heights, and for the final hurrah a ledge with steep drop-off.

The final trek down to the Delicate Arch itself was along open relatively steep slickrock and even I would admit it felt quite dangerous especially with a brisk wind. I had gotten this far so I was not about to waiver now . Most of the other hikers were much younger than myself and when I finally made it out to under the arch and turned around, I received a rousing cheer from my hiker fan base and assists.

Hiking out was quite enjoyable, until about a half hour and over half way down, when I could see that the road was open. It would not be long before the  large volume of hikers would be scrambling up the trail. Shortly, a couple of young women who I had been interacting with “up top” came upon me and asked if my car was down at the trailhead or up top on the road. Since their car was up there too, they offered to hike up and get their car and come down and pick me up. I heartily agreed and it wasn’t long before they were back. They did the hitchhiking up so I soon retrieved my car to begin my “Arch Walk” (kind of like an art walk) via auto of other areas of the park.

Much like in Gunnison, I traveled the length of the park road to view many of the acclaimed arches and do what walking my legs would still accommodate, after my so very inspiring Delicate Arch hike, starting with Panorama Point and North and South Windows Trails. Can you see or imagine what the rock formation namers saw in their names of the formations?

Panorama Point

Elephant Butte, the Buccaneer, and the Double Arch on Windows Road

I loved the Windows section of Arches. Many consider it to be the heart of Arches. There is a significant concentration of arches and I found it to be quite a beautiful location in the park to hike about. South window, North Window, and Turret Arch, Elephant Butte, Cove of Caves, and Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden are just a few of the -inspiring arch formation I found on the Windows Trail and Road.

South Window, North Window, Turret Arch, Elephant Butte, Cove of Caves, and Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden

I knew it was about time to drive into Moab Drove to shop for ice, grocery supplies and gas. Having made that decision I was quite pleased that the storms for the day hit when I was enroute through the park.

Upon my return I continued on my mission to visit the vita as many pullouts as possible … how tragic it would be if I missed something truly remarkable.

Park Avenue, Queen Nefertiti, LaSalle Mountains , Three Gossips, Courthouse Towers and Tower of Babel.

Further on down the road and in spite of the ever present threatening weather, I continued my pursuit of additional vistas including the Petrified Dunes, Fiery Furnace, and for some masochistic reason I drove up to the viewpoints for Delicate Arch to get a view of it from the opposite side . I hiked the one mile round trip slightly strenuous steep climb up to the Upper Viewpoint. Most of the other hikers were quite disappointed about the distance to the arch and that it’ is’s separated by a canyon and not accessible to walk to. This day was a 24,000 step and 9 mile day of splendor!

Petrified Dunes, Delicate Arch Backside, Fiery Furnace

By the time I got back to the campsite it was 7:30.   I thought my site had been vandalized but soon realized that it had been vandalizes indeed — by the wind.  Fortunately that was the culprit. It was getting dark out and I still needed to prepare dinner so I opted for the cold variety. Once I piled everything into the car for the night (total disarray),  I retreated to my tent and to then had clean off most everything in tent from a dusting of red sand.  I finally went to sleep with constant gusts of the wind battering the tent.   I must have been totally exhausted to manage to have slept through an extremely gusty night.

Peeking out of my wind blown tent, I could see thunder and storm clouds in all directions.  So I bounded out of the tent and it was clear that the wind had tried to break camp for me. Hoping to avoid the  red mud slicks that would occur and to escape having a tent wet and stained red if it rained (the wind at least had dried everything with its powerful swirls), I had better move quickly .    As the rumbles kept happening and getting closer, I rushed about just flinging everything into car which was already a jumble.  When done I settled down with my first cup of coffee and observed that I had escaped the storms that were all around. They had headed elsewhere to flood some other unsuspecting area. Before I headed on to Bryce Canyon, I thought I would take a “last stand” and hike Devil’s Garden Trail. I was dragging along and I actually acknowledged that I was “burned out” from yesterday’s mega adventure and I best do an about face and get back on the road.

Glamping at Cuyahoga, Singing Sands, That’s Not a Gate, and Unmowed Grass

uniquelytheo2 Comments

It is always hard to leave family especially sinceI  I have fallen in love with the family dog.  Carmel is a black labrador retriever and two years old.  She loves people and I was her person the whole 10 days I was there. She slept with me and followed me everywhere. Needless to say I am in Carmel withdrawal.  But alas, I also dearly miss my son Nick and daughter-in-law Miriam. But I loaded up my piles of gear into Lady Spitfire. Leaving one’s  car parked on a Philadelphia street loaded with STUFF invites a break in so we wisely unloaded everything for the duration of the stay.  I was off by 9:30 and ,as luck would have it for the sake of efficiency, I ended up driving out on the Schuylkill Expressway – the road I have always desperately wanted to avoid due to  its 24/7, 7 day a week traffic jam. But I didn’t have a meltdown and before too long I was on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, watching the ching-ching chang of the Pikes cash register add up the miles and thus the dollars for me to traverse this massive construction project and truck conveyor belt all the way to Ohio.  Of course Ohio has the same idea about commandeering my wallet and letting  the turnpike authority help itself to the contents. All of this wallet opening happened so I could get from A-Z in a bit more timely fashion than taking the secondary roads.   I grit my teeth and grasp the steering tightly but I am not sure how either one of these response helps me navigate this parade of semi-trucks barreling down the highway at 70 mph all the while squeezing me up close to the unyielding cement barriers on my left and their middle line on hugging  right. I try and weave my way from behind to, around to, ahead of these massive vehicles carrying all that “made-in-China”  merchandise we just can’t live without. But I finally made it to Cuyahoga State Park and my lodging for the next two nights was at Valley Overlook.  I am not sure exactly how one defines glamping but this is the closest I haver come to it since I was on a safari in Africa years ago. This extra large canvas tent was a great way to ease back into “camping” after the hiatus of family and friend visits.  It was an almost real bedroom  except for the fact the walls were canvas, there was no electricity, water  or attached bathroom. The bath/shower unit was up a short steep hill and after trudging up the first time and barely “making it, ” I did something I would never in my wildest dreams imagine me doing. I drove up. An added bonus, I could avoid a massive wasps nest needing to be passed a short distance away.

August 14th was a full day to explore and I had not known how best to approach maximizing my experience of Cuyahoga NP. It is a patchwork of many smaller areas including not only parkland designated to protect the Cuyahoga river but interspersed with villages and farms. I had not done any prior reading about the park and its options. Miriam told me about a train ride through the park so I investigated that and booked a ticket on the Cuyahoga Scenic Railroad for late morning. This two hour train ride out from Peninsula Depot to North Akron and back was pleasant enough and the park volunteer shared a fair amount interesting history but perhaps the route is scenic for Ohio but at no point was I wowed by the surrounds. The scene was of pleasant villages and a countryside of mostly forests, rivers and meadows. The upside was it gave me a good idea of some things I might explore further or NOT. The trip back was a bit “sad.” The train tour guide gave almost no additional commentary. I made my way though our train car and I saw most people focused on their phones, others having loudish conversations drowning out anything the narrator might want to add, some sleeping in their seat, and in general not paying much attention to anything out there. Granted we had “been there” but I often find I can glean a lot more on the “second time round.”

After finding a convenience store to get gas and restock the ice in my cooler, I stopped at the Boston Mill Visitors Center to get more information on trails. It was also an opportunity to get close to the winding Cuyahoga River.

I was eager to get out on a hike with the first hiking choice was the Beaver Marsh Boardwalk . I have been told it is definitely an active area for beaver lodges but either my eyesight is totally myopic or on this day, as often happens, they were doing their interior housekeeping in their hidden lodges. But it did give me a short hike on the Erie Canal Path and a lovely mostly shaded walk in  the woods.

Determined to find something more challenging, I decided on hiking at least part of The Ledges Trail.  The Ledges Overlook is touted for its vista of the Cuyahoga Valley and a hike of moderate difficulty. A coin toss (not really) landed me hiking the route clockwise which was probably the wrong choice but from the starting point I saw several couples headed that way.  The distance to the most notable spot was significant longer than if I had chose the opposite direction  of the loop. This is of course in hindsight. I was quite fascinated by the geology of the area and immediately there was an array of sandstone ledges forming sheer cliffs, narrow and deep crevices , moss and lichen covered rocks, rocky and boulder strewn sections  in between sections of gravel path.

I am glad I had the experience of hiking the trail because, yet again in this park, I was totally unimpressed by the vista.  One would need to be a very very tall person to be able see much of the valley over the tree tops.  The biggest rub was when I turned around at the top to find the continuation of the trail, there was a large grassy field and on the opposite side was the parking lot where I left Lady Spitfire. I definitely did not have to work so hard for  this very mediocre view but I can take pride in accomplishing a challenging hike and experiencing the geological formations of this area. 

By now it was well into the dinner hour so it was back to Valley Overlook (which doesn’t really overlook the valley) for the evening repast and a glamperous night. 

August 15th was a travel day, heading to Indiana Dunes National Park. I dreaded getting back on the Ohio Turnpike and its overabundance of big rigs or eighteen wheelers tearing west (or east): flatbeds, tankers, heavy equipment trailers, trailers with removable sides and tarp covers… the list goes on. This is the first trip I have encountered triple trailers as well of course many double trailers. When not long on the road, I got an alert on my phone that due to accidents it was advisable to seek an alternate route rather than the Ohio Turnpike. I had not a clue what that route would be nor had Siri advised me to go a different route so I decided I would just sit in a back-up if that be the case. Fortunately westbound lanes had been mostly cleared and I could proceed on through. However, it was totally gruesome to see the aftermath of three separate deadly crashes leaving four people dead, all involving at least one tractor trailer, a spill of sulphuric acid, and many mangled vehicles. I remained quite anxious and on high alert for the rest of the day. The only upside was that much of the traffic heading west had exited the turnpike so it was mostly truck and traffic free until a couple exits past the exit advisory zone. Prior to today I had been quite grateful that I had encountered only one minor accident in the almost 7000 miles I had traveled. Gradually the traffic built up again to a “frenzy” and it began to rain. I arrived mid-afternoon at the Indiana Dunes Visitors Center, got myself oriented, talked to a ranger about hikes, got my stamp and headed out to Dunescape Campground

What a horrible night. Camping in areas that are scrunched between cities is less than ideal. The South Shore Line, the train that runs from South Bend to Millennium Stadium in Chicago, is but a couple blocks from the campground and quite impolitely announces its arrival at the Beverly Shores Station numerous times a day (about every 20-30 minutes) almost around the clock. It was not music to my ears as I was trying to fall asleep. But that was finally accomplished only to be awakened in the middle of the night by the flashes of lightening and its notorious  companion thunder! I thought I might have repaired my tent leaks with seam sealer but guess either I did a terrible job or the leak is actually not in the seams.  But at least the drip drip was more of a light spatter instead of a ping! So after the ugly drive and the ugly night I was feeling pretty ugly. 

At least the coffee smoothed over some of the rough edges and I decide to get on the road and explore the park. This campground is at the northern end of the park so I settled on a visit to Lake View Beach.  It was still early in the day so there actually were available parking spaces and proximate to the historic homes from the Chicago World Fair.  With relatively few people on the beach it seemed like the perfect time to view the Century of Progress Homes constructed for the 1933 Chicago World’s Fair to show the future of housing and then brought to the Indiana shoreline afterwards. Were these models an accurate depiction of what housing looked like in the future? An aside. They featured the new amenities of garage door openers and dishwasher. When I think about it a whole lot of homes to this day don’t have those.

With temperatures already in the 70’s, sunny skies, and calm waters, I braced my self for very chilly temps of Lake Michigan but the water was actually quite refreshing and not chilling. I decided on a short walk and it definitely seemed a bit incongruous to be in a National Park and see industrial complexes in both directions with Gary Indiana to the west and power plant in Michigan City to the east..For many years I had a preconceived notion that all National Parks were basically in the hinterlands and not easily accessible to city dwellers. Though most are, there are now a cadre of parks that are much more citified (i.e. Cuyahoga, Gateway Arch, Hot Springs) .

The one hike I wanted to do was the Mount Baldy Dune Trail which was the northern most and tallest dune in the park. So I was determined to test it out. I was a bit tenuous as there were cautions all around about the ease of going down the dune but be aware that the hike back up would be a lung buster on the shifting sands. It was a half mile path to the dune apex and when cresting it, the vista was gorgeous and I naturally made my way down the dune face to the waters edge. A short walk east gave a much closer view of the Michigan City Power Generating Station which many mistake for a nuclear power plant instead of a hyperboloid cooling tower. I looked this up min case you thought I was an expert on electrical towers.) Since I am older and wiser than when my youthful endeavors at climbing dunes and mountains were a “timed event, ” I know I do not have to prove anything to anybody anymore so I inched my way a small step at a time and did not have to pant and gasp for air.

Never satisfied until I am bone weary, next up was The Great Marsh Trail. Seems marsh trails have become a theme of my adventures and this one was a sweaty, bug swatting lovely adventure. This was much more proximate to the marsh water as it was basically a built up dirt path through the wetland area often with marsh water on both sides.

The wildflowers were an absolute delight and it showed yet another facet of marsh vegetation.


After dinner at the campsite, it was a relaxing evening and I settled in bed read. But before too long I could hear a rumbling in the distance and what I had not foreseen was yet another thunderstorm heading over to pound my rainfly with a drenching rain and prove once again my rainfly was incapable of doing the job it was designed to do. . Water was pouring down into the tent from numerous spots – which is only possible because the whole upper portions of the tent is net – the better to stargaze through while cozy in one’s sleeping bag. I had never intended to stargaze and had not given the design much thought I will never again get a tent with a net/mesh top.

August 17th  was a driving day…. and once past Chicago, traffic eased up. I   was heading to Carlisle Lake Recreation Area. Thankfully driving wasn’t absolute chaos with fewer truckers, weavers, speeders, pokers,  and tailgaters. I was not in a particularly positive mood after the thunderstorms and the resultant tent debacle of the previous nights. I had already researched motels near that area anticipating another dismal experience because of all my wet and dirt caked gear. But the weather outlook was good and the site I had selected was an A+ selection and just about perfect (except for the barking dog across the way).   It was a large grassy shaded site right on the lake. I spread everything out  and it all dried quite readily and before long I had a camp set up on  this lovely  lakefront spot.

This evening at Carlisle Lake was filled with a  light cooling breeze, the gentle lapping of the waves on the rocky shore, fireflies twinkling about, a  pastel sunset and the moon waxing gibbous and about 98%full and brilliant. It reminded me of my summers as a child at our lakefront home where lakeside evenings were always magical. The only thing missing here was the whistle of a train across the lake. in Topinabee.   But since I had on over-abundance of those train whistle at the dunes, the paucity was a blessing. Now that I am veering farther south, the evenings are not cooling off as much as they had been the rest of this trip so it was time to haul out lighter weight sleepwear and not sliding  down into the depths of my sleeping bag. 

On August 18th I awoke to the shrill barks of the dog across the way – who after putting out the rallying cry, was responded to by several of the fellow canines in the area. I think everyone camping here has a dog as evidence by the chorus of not so sonorous barks. Though wanting to be annoyed, it wasn’t worth the effort and I wanted to be packed up and on the roas by 9:30am( which I accomplished.) I was heading into The Gateway Arch National Park in St. Louis. I discovered that night that the St. Louis Cardinals had an afternoon home game and I was headed to the Gateway Arch which is a very very close neighbor to Busch Stadium. I wanted to get into the city before it got crazy with fans all arriving for the ballgame. I was so grateful I pre-paid for Arch parking the evening before. It was $10:00 . When I got to garage the parking fee was $40.00 for the game.

The Arch is quite an impressive architectural structure. The complex is quite extensive and though I had not intended to take the tram up into the arch, I would not have been able to as it was sold out. I had done the tram many years ago and I disliked it tremendously because of both the claustrophobic cars and the very noticeable sway of the arch I felt at the top.

It was a lovely day and being that this park is right along the river it was quite the enjoyable time meandering along it and taking a gazillion photos of the arch from every angle. My goal was to get on the road and head west once the traffic heading into the area for the Cardinals game cleared. Since the parking garage was right next to the stadium it was kind of fun milling about that area amidst the fans.

When I surmised the worst of the traffic mess was over, I headed out of the garage (which was no easy feat since most exits were blocked off. After taking out a couple of trafic cones trying to wind my way out, I finally came upon the one place one could exit and get on a road out of town. The end point was Columbia MO and since I always feel frazzled by the challenge of executing the complexity of city expressways, I was happy that I had pre-planned a night at a hotel in Columbia MO. Since I had been dining on camp rations, I saw a T. G. Friday’s right next door and though I have not eaten at one in a long time (my recollection was of a menu featuring mostly high fat, high cholesterol, breaded, and fried heart attack inducing foods. I did not want to get back in the car again. So Friday’s it was.

For The next couple of days I was headed into the relatively flatland and featureless areas of the mid-west. Western Missouri and Eastern Kansas had a slight bit of definition to them i.e some mildly rolling hills and trees mixed in with the cornfields. Western section of Kansas did not. It was a bit saddening to be traveling through this area which clearly has suffered from drought and observing mile upon mile of corn fields clearly devastated by it. Stalks were all browned and yellowed except for a very few fields which had the capacity to be irrigated. The one highlight of my traverse through Kanas was a stop at Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve.

Tallgrass Prairie is one of the very few areas that remains today ( less than 4% of the 70 millions of acres) remains intact, mostly in this area, the Kansas Flint Hills. According to the NP brochure “ the preserve protects a nationally significant remnant of the once vast tallgrass prairie ecosystem. Here the tallgrass makes its last stand.” But most noteworthy and exciting for me was to discover there is a resident bison herd and I was again fortunate to be able to observe it off in a distant field. Now these enormously large bovines with their unpredictable temperament were proximate to an identified hiking trail in the preserve and I discovered I could access that trail via an unlocked gate. I wandered in a short distance and I was quite tempted to get a bit closer to these massive elegant beasts but the rational side of my brain won out and I settled on a few snapshots and was on my way.

I had been planning to camp in Marion KS west of the Topeka Kansas area but was not one iota motivated to roughing it. Instead of the campground, I just continued heading westerly and stayed at Comfort Suites in Salina KS. The next night I had a motel reservation in western Kansas but decided to push farther west with the goal being Colorado Springs on August 20th.   In trying to think about what might have been remarkable about today’s drive, terrain wise it was mostly flat until just sort of Colorado Springs.  Lots of dead corn, lots of silos, and lots of windmills.  I know there is a lot of controversy around windmills dotting the landsscape, but there is something I find calming and peaceful about watching them, the blades slowly turning agaist the backdrop of a vast sky. The time sped on along with my car speeding on and soon I was in the eastern part of Colorado Springs negotiating rush hour traffic getting lost, never being in the correct lane, getting  thoroughly turned around, missing exits, and spending about one-half-hour + finding my motel which was originally less than 1 mile away.  Once there and checked in was not going anywhere. 

How Did I End Up in England, Parle Vous Francais, and White Knuckling It…

uniquelytheo2 Comments

A new itinerary for a new day was to have Lady Spitfire with myself as guide tour Ottawa’s Parliament Hill and then head to Montreal. I have not encountered many opportunities to negotiate big city driving anymore, so I wan’t sure if this was the wisest plan but wise or not I was determined to see a bit of Canada’s capitol city. The first challenge was negotiating the plethora of construction areas on the Canadian cloverleafs to reach Parliament Hill, the prime (not Amazon) tourist destination. Getting there with my trusted navigator Siri was quite easy but where to park was the dilemma. Siri led me to a lot for government employees only. Since there was a plenitude of open spaces, I thought I would risk leaving the car there and take a short walk, snap a few pictures and then be on my way out of the city if I could not locate suitable parking afterwards. It worked well since I did not get ticketed or hauled off to an Ottowanian (I made this up) brig. I headed on through the very congested streets and marveled at the plethora of government building in the area. It was akin to the huge swath of buildings of our government in Washington DC but these all had a distinctive British Parliament and Buckingham Palace look . I wanted to wave to the King Charles but alas I guess he is quite far off across the ocean in London. With no available parking closer to leave Lady Spitfire while I ambled about Parliament Hill, I opted to head out of town.

It was only a 2-3 hour drive to Montreal where I had reserved a boutique hotel room in Centre de Ville and within walking distance of the Port Vieux. Upon crossing the border into Quebec, I felt like I was entering a very different world. All I could think of was French snobbery. Whereas in all the other provinces I had traveled through, all signs were in both English and French. They are primarily English speaking but a subset of the population speaks French. Here the language is French and almost all of the signage everywhere had only French. I found that annoying though I recollected enough of the French I studied for two years in college to read a good portion of them. Though I am feeling a bit softer about France since the Olympics, but having lived a summer in France during college, the elitism and attitudes of the locals was that of cultural superiority and exclusivity. This to me was reflected in almost all of the signage in the city. The roads into the city were mostly limited access but were in horrible condition and huge parts were under construction.. The drivers were not particularily yielding to mergers and of course they also loved to speed. But I managed to find my way to my hotel with my nerves frayed just a bit. I really liked this pension and the desk clerk was about the only pleasant and solicitous person I encountered during my stay. I unloaded my belongings and as there was no onsite parking I had to take Lady Spitfire to her “parkingtel” down the street.

After settling my stuff in my room it was time to commence my walking adventure of Old Montreal. My mission was to find a restaurant where I might get some out-of-this-world French onion soup.. According to the hotel operand, that traditional soup is quite out of favor here in French Quebec and the darling is poutine (it’s a mish-mash of french fries, cheese curds and brown gravy.) Poutine did not sound the least bit appetizing and since I had first been introduced to French onion soup in Montreal almost 60 years ago when I was on my honeymoon, I wanted to recreate a happy memory. He suggested Jardin Nelson down in the port district, about a one mile walk. So I was off to experience this historic portion of this city. Wisely, I selected a route with the least steep hills (so noted in iMaps). The weather was predicted to be clear but 5 minutes out there began several small spatters of rain. I finally arrived at my destination and only slightly damp. I was ecstatic to find French onion soup on the menu and order that followed by a hearty crepe. I definitely don’t have any clue of how it compared to the original but it was quite satisfying and I accomplished my mission.

The crowds in the area were plentiful, the feeling quite festive, and after a brief cruise around the old port I headed on back “uphill” to the hotel to enjoy a second night of comfort sleeping.

The next day when I was checking out at the desk, the clerk asked if I had my parking garage ticket and of course I did not as I always leave it under the visor in the car. So she instructed me on how to get into this very secure parking garage. Since the ticket is the way to unlock the door, I would need to head down the car entrance ramp to the garage and position myself under the sensor and flail my arms to activate it. I also took a brochure to add height to my short arms and body. Unfortunately I was not able to apply this technique because just as I approached a car was exiting the garage and I could just walk down the ramp. So much for a secure facility.

I was off around noon and was tightly gripping the steering wheel and gritting my teeth as I had to make my way through the city with its rude hurried drivers hell bent on not ever giving anyone a break. But I made it out with nary a dent and for the first 50 or so miles I thought I was on I-75 or I-95 during spring break when there is a solid stream of rushing cars heading out of town to a Florida beach party and then back home again at top speed. As I finally reached the point where I headed south toward Vermont, the traffic magically disappeared. Guess these Quebecans were all traveling east to destination that was beckoning their holiday spirit and trying to maximize the time at their destination. The rest of the drive to Dolly Copp campground, located at the base of Mt. Washington in the White Mountains of New Hampshire was smooth and a non- event.

Once there and with no one camped out on my reserved site, I began the chore of drying everything out from the drenching storms at the last camp a couple days ago. I was even more certain that my choice to bail on Fitzroy of Canada was right, as even though the rain had diminished to a light drizzle and, given the real mess of mud and debris on the tent and the infamous leaking rain fly needing repair and still oozing water, I would probably have sat down in one of puddles in the campsite and cried. At least here it was dry, sunny and about 72 degrees with very few airborne pest at the campsite. The main insect to watch out for was tiny buzzing bees but they were mostly attract to my food and not me. Guess no sweetness oozing out of me. But the hot hood of the car did wonders on the rainfly and with the muddy underside the tent laid up over the picnic table I accomplished my household chores in no time.

I have come to the realization that every campground has to have a loud family. So tonight I have the good fortune to be on a site next to “the loud family” that is having their yearly reunion of all the sibs and cousins. They are having a marvelous time and sharing their celebratory mood with a large swath of the camp ground around them. But I recall a day when we might have been dubbed the loud family by some others when our family and/or friends gathered, so I just smile and comment on how wonderful it is to be able to be together. I was in my tent reading and wondering when the raucousness would end but at almost exactly 10:00 it went silent. I wasn’t aware until the morrow that the quiet hours bean at 10:00 pm.

After a good nights sleep, coffee and breakfast I planned to head down to drive the Mt. Washington Summit Road.  Mt. Washington is New Englands’s highest peak (6,288ft) and is famous and infamous for its  weather patterns that can change drastically.  Unprepared hikers have suffered horrible fates for not being prepared . The Mt. Washington Auto Road is steep and narrow with precipitous drop offs, NO guard rails and one could smoke their brakes on the decent. I have always enjoyed driving curvy mountainous roads but this one is in a class by itself.  The first chapter of this driving drama was the price tag.  I actually paid $45.00 to  terrify myself but having read so many gruesome tales about Mt. Washington, I was willing to fork it over. With the hundreds who drove this road today, you would think they could afford a guard rail or two… but then it would definitely temper the utter terror of driving it and the “war story” to tell afterwards. The price tag did give me pause to think about whether I wanted to and I am sure it keeps the number of vehicles at more manageable levels. Did  I really want to do this. Of course. 

To add to the drama of driving it, even at 11:00 am there was a steady stream of cars descending and though most drivers do have a sense of the width and position of their cars on the road, there are those terrified few who prefer to err on the side of caution, hugging the middle of the road to avoid the ditch on the inside edge but inadvertently forcing you to almost tilt off the steep precipice on the valley side. So I tensely did the 7 mile drive and at points certainly asked myself why I thought this was a good idea? But once at the top I immediately pulled into the first spot in lower parking lot and dried my sweaty palms.

I was determined to spend a fair amount of time up there (to get my moneys worth???). No quick in, snap a picture, and then out. The top of Mt. Washington held not only several weather related installations but it is also a bit of a tourist mecca with tourist information facilities, a large viewing platform, a couple of souvenir shops, a food “emporium” . I found it cluttered, utilitarian and industrial in appearance. Particularly interesting was seeing the buildings “tied” down. As with many mountain valleys, especially in the summer, the high humidity levels result in a foggy or hazy effect and thus reduced visibility of the valleys. This is no natural and untouched mountaintop.

Of course, I had to wait in line to get the “obligatory” picture of me at the Mt. Washington summit sign. Again, to keep the crowds down it was a rocky spot to negotiate and keep it a “real” summit it was definitely not an improved trail to get the last 50 feet. But it was fun watching people, talking to some other adventurers, and deciding I did not need to but any kind of decal or t-shirt to mark the occasion.

I could also forgo the cafeteria like food line. It was after 1:00 by now and often I will fix my lunch and eat it while driving. NOT TODAY. Though I could see people were waiting for parking spots, I calmly sat there and ate, congratulating myself for getting out early before the even larger throngs ascended. I steeled myself for the drive down and actually found it much “easier” that traveling up. I knew enough not to ride my brakes and leave a smoke trail to follow and could not forget it since all the way down there were signs at frequent interval to pull over and let ones brake cool. Since I mostly pumped them and used some engine braking I left no trail of smoke or breadcrumbs.

Before heading back to visit Dolly I drove a bit farther south to visit the town of Jackson. It is home to “Wentworth” and that whole area was what I picture classically New England. But tired of driving, I headed back to the campground. I wanted time to sit back and relax, have dinner, read etc. and do a bit of organization to head to Maine tomorrow. It was a very quiet afternoon amnd evening next door. The “Loud Family” was nowhere to be seen or heard and yet their cars and equipment were still there. Needless to say it was a very tranquil evening.

Who Painted the Rocks, ding-ping-ring-zing… drip drip drip, and a Fairbanks not in Alaska!

uniquelytheo1 Comment

I continued east from Duluth after a great week with two of my offspring rand arrived at my campground, Island Lake in the Hiawatha Forest National around 9:15 which gave me about 45 minutes of light. BUT as I pulled into my campsite there were “squatters” occupying it (as there were no other available sites in the campground). These two young men saw an empty site in the early evening and probably anticipated a “no-show” at this reservation only campsite. They were sitting there by a fire eating their s’mores and I am sure it really sucked that they had to up and leave, take down their tent, pack up there gear and leave their perfect for s’mores campfire. I naturally asked them to leave and fortunately they were decent about it. I for a brief moment felt a tad bad about it. They said there had been no sign marking the site as reserved – a slip up by the forest ranger perhaps – but none-the-less I had paid for the site months ago. So by the time they vacated the campsite it was 9:45 and the sun was setting. I was able to get the basic done (tent / bed) before it was too dark and had a pretty good “flood” flashlight to accomplish the rest. It was not long however before I was in bed.

The following day was a layover day and I wanted to explore the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. After a very normal morning camp routine with my biggest challenge being finding my Starbuck’s Via coffee in the chaos of the inside of my car,   I was off – or at least I thought I was off – until I could not figure out the directions to get to the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. Perhaps too much like Hansel and Gretel who dropped breadcrumbs to be able to find their way, my breadcrumbs was my iMaps program which led right to the campsite . I did not have to pay any attention to the route road names, identifying features, direction heading etc. and only had to follow that line on the iMap and Siri’s coaching.  Well Siri must have taken the day off and I was without guidance given the lack of a cell tower here in the Hiawatha National Forrest. So I set out  not knowing that I would be setting a personal record of the most U-turns in one day.  I was not in danger of being eaten by a wolf thank goodness. I still have no idea of how I found my way but I finally did arrive at the Munising Falls Visitors center, picked up the NP map, got the park stamp,  and decided to take the hike up to the top of the falls via a trail up the cool, shaded sandstone canyon along Munising Creek to view the 50-foot waterfall. I not sure if I have ever visited it before (I’m a Michigan native and spent many summers in the northern Lower and Upper Peninsulas) but though it was lovely I was tad underwhelmed by it. 

Now had I seen it was a kid on one of our trips to the upper peninsula it might have been a bit more impressive. But perhaps my judgement is warped by our fast paced culture that believes bigger is better , and louder is the best. None-the-less it was a nice little hike and a good beginning of a day of a lot more driving than I anticipated (150 MILES round trip including u-turns.) My plan was to drive the distance of lakeshore and travel most side roads to identified points of interest.  The Pictured Rocks stretches 48 miles along Lake Superior and was the first National Lakeshore. To really appreciate the lake vistas, rock formations, sand dunes, and beaches I would need to take a kayak or boat tour. Since I did not bring my kayak (I sold it 6 years ago because I could no longer heave-ho on top of my car ) and did not have the foresight to arrange a boat tour (I will blame this on no wi-fi or cell service this am and not my lack of planning). I had to be content with a drive-along the main artery (not even close to the lakeshore) and then drive in and back out again on the “local” the access roads …. a not very environmentally friendly method. But I guess it would be less environmentally friendly to engineer a road right along the lakeshore and thus increase the volume, noise and auto pollutants and mix them into the forests and lakes of this mostly unspoiled wilderness and replicate the contaminated environment in a city .

If I had been of a mind to swim I would have chosen Sand Beach, a white sand beach with clear waters on Lake Superior. It was my first stop. According to NPS its clear shallow water has less waves and usually slightly warmer water than other NP park beaches (the average surface water temperature of Lake Superior in July ranges from 55°F to 65°F – what I would consider wet suit necessary and its was not on my list of packables for this trip (aside for the fact I don’t own one anymore. )

I was quite disappointed that very little of the Pictured Rocks part of the coastline was not accessible for the motorist. The Miners Castle, one of the most famous landmarks along the Pictured Rocks shoreline, was the only cliff area in the park reachable from the park road. I traversed both the upper overlook of Lake Superior and Grand Island and took a steeper trail leading to the lower overlook adjacent to Miners Castle. I recollect doing a kayak voyage of the coastline several years ago and the recall being quite taken with the beauty of the rocky multi colored sandstone cliffs. Not much of the vibrant hues of red, orange, yellow and green and the arches and caves were in evidence from this overlook.

So I motored on to check out the 12-mile beach, and nary a mile of it did I trek (nor did I descend the long flight of stairs down from the bluff). Pretty to look at but not for me today to sink my toes into the soft white sand and huff and puff along. The “log slide” area was intriguing. The site was used by lumberjacks in days gone by to propel logs down to the waters edge. I saw many a tourist slipping and sliding down this steep dune (500 feet) in a few minutes only to be faced with the daunting challenge of ascending the slippery sand with each step the sand giving way and a sliding back with each step. Caution! Caution! Caution! says the sign at the top. For a change I paid attention and that meant staying up top and not pretending I was a log heading down a chute . But most appreciated was the expansive view of the Grand Sable Banks and Dunes to the east.. The dunes themselves are just the top layer of a large pile of rock rubble and debris left by ancient glaciers.

Sated with nature’s beauty, I needed to stop in Munising to pick up a few grocery items but I could not find a store. I picked up some things at the pricey Quickmart and naturally on spur road out to highway, I went past a big grocery store. I kind of rattled around the campsite unfocused but finely manage to build a campfire. This was the first – though I’m not too keen on all that work to not have the ingredients to roast marshmallows and make the old Girl Scout Camp favorite of s’mores.

Awakening to the cawing crows, and after the usual camp oatmeal concoction and coffee, it was time to break camp and head east. Normally I am not totally directionally challenged but some how either I have aged out of that skill set or my cars U-Connect Navigation Guidance system software was impacted by the Crowdstrike security update meltdown. This was definitely not the time to rely on anything other than one’s own brain and intuition as foggy as it might be. I knew I need to basically head north. The throaty female directional guide on U-Connect (since no cell service) had me going the wrong way for starters and, after actually only two u-turns, I was basically headed out of the Hiawatha National Forest. I left Throaty’s guidance on just to see if she had any brains at all and sadly this was not the case. Whenever there was a “road” (term used loosely as she considered ever forest service gravel road, every single sandy lane with a grass centerpiece, and even some that appeared to be no wider than a hiking trails roads) I was told to turn right. I think she was stuck in auto replay mode . But I ended up on M28 by my own shot in the dark guidance and found the grocery store in Munising.

After stocking up on some healthy food such as vegetables and fruit and chicken, I headed across the Michigan Upper Peninsula toward my nights lodging at Lac Fairbank (I like the sound of the French name vs Lake Fairbanks). The names of the parks in Ottawa are boring compared to those in Western Canada (such as Buffalo Pound and Sleeping Giant). There wasn’t much remarkable about this journey though there was a lot of commercial traffic (evidence by the large number of trucks), and tourist traffic ( evidence by the volume of RV’s, campers, pickup trucks loaded down with bikes and kayaks etc). Construction stops were several but not of significant duration. All of the roads were two lane though fortunately there appeared to be passing lanes often enough so I did not have to take too many chances swinging out into the opposite lane, drive 90 miles an hour to get past a slow moving vehicle that always seems to speed up when tryin to pass it, and then scare the bejesus out of the oncoming car as I swing back in. I think these drivers are in a fog and all of a sudden have an awareness of the fact that they are crawling down the road and thus frustrating the 20 cars behind, and voila they are off to get up to speed while you try to pass. Or they are just mean spirited.

The most interesting point on this trip was crossing the international bridge to Canada. I gazed to my left at the first span and I saw rusted steel vertical lift railroad bridge. Since this type of bridge had entered our awareness with a bang during this trip, I could make it my obsession to visit as many as I could in the USA. NOT going to happen as I am not that obsessed. Due to construction on the bridge there was about a 25 minute back-up to get off and down to the Canadian Border Crossing Point. Because they were releasing a significant number of cars at once there was a wait there as well. I think all border crossing agents are cut from the same mold and one very similar to the interactional style of policeman – very curt and terse with their routine questions that I feel like I’m either doing something wrong or going to do something wrong. When this dude asked if I planned to leave anything in Canada, I so wanted to say “Oh, just some pee and poop!” but thought better of it. But soon I was on my way with still a 200 or so to go and along the way I did find several places to leave my pee. After the last 12 miles of dusty, rattly gravel road, I arrived at Fairbanks Provincial Park, and contrary to the last adventure of finding my campsite occupied, mine was just sitting there waiting for me and was one of those winners. It was large site, with a short path down to the fresh water swimmable lake and good vegetation buffers for privacy. Now these vegetation buffers might be good for visual privacy but do very little to soundproof the site from the many gleeful children all around. But it goes with the territory unless I want to exclusively go only to 55 and older park and I don’t plan to find out.

Camp set up is much easier in the light and went smoothly as did cooking a dinner and sitting peacefully and enjoying the lake view (narrow as it was). Since this is a minimal, if any, cell service area I am totally clueless about world events for a couple days and right now that is just fine with me. I can sometimes squeak out a plain text. After a few texts back and forth with my offspring, fellow travelers for last week’s adventure, and catching up on their saga of plane cancellations and delays, it was tent time.

Today’s awakening was to the shrill barks of a very yappy dog in the next tent site … clearly somebody’s spoiled “child.” But it was already 7:45 as I sleep sound and cozy in my little tent. So I laid around here for a while pondering the spider crawling on the netting of my tent but when it failed to find any lucrative location for a web traveled on. So I crawled out of the cozy confines of my lodging and coffeed up and chowed oatmeal and then tried to figure the plan for the day off traveling. It was pretty gray out and on the cooler side (lower 50’s) and the sky was hanging onto the possibility of dumping a bit of rain on we tenters. But not having any clue what the forecast is – recall I have been involuntarily unplugged from our information society due to the propensity of parks to not have cell coverage and having wi-fi would be anathema (by the way I heartily agree with this but it doesn’t mean that I am not in withdrawal.)

So I set out to walk the park roads to the one hiking trail in the park, the WA-SHAI-GA-MOG Trail (Ojibway for “clear water” ). Marked as an easy 1//2 K trail, it was none-the-less slightly challenging for one who would prefer not to break any bones by leaping down the bedrock outcrops and sliding on some steeper clay sections (though thankfully not oozingly slick right now .) It did provided views of the gray waters of Fairbank Lake (the brochure says “beautiful blue waters” but that definitely requires sun). An aside: I am not complaining about lack of sun because I have yet to get any measurable rain while I have been camping.

But between the hike and traverse of the park I managed to get 2 miles in and was back in time for lunch. This is not particularly a very large or well funded park (per conversation with a local) , hence minimal infrastructure — and thus I am saddled with using a stinky loo (though not as bad as the worst of the worst at our campsite loop at Rushing River.) I am wondering if I should start a website rating Canadian and US National and Provincial Parks for their toilet facilities. I don’t see that on trip advisor. I had planned on swimming in this clear lake with a sandy bottom at my campsite entrance but the gray, cool, mildly windy conditions and my rational brain convinced me that if I went in I would be picking leaches of my body and my teeth would be chattering all afternoon. I preferred not to waste my salt nor sit in my car for the afternoon with the heater blasting.

So, I decided I was being a lazy camper and not having the full experience and I really should go buy some wood to build a campfire despite the fact that there would be no s’mores. I could use a bag of ice as well. So I plopped in my car and drove to the office where ice and wood were sold. I got a small ice and one bag of wood. I was expecting ice cubes but ended up with an unbreakable block of ice which took up half the cooler and a very large bag of un-burnable wood (which of course I would not realize until later.) I didn’t inquire if they had a “return policy” but a big bag of wet wood and a big block of wet ice was not what I thought I was purchasing. I totally understand now that the wood has char marks on it from my fire starters that they might consider it having been used and hence no refund. Same as to the melting ice would be considered used. So I prepared my dinner next to some smoldering wood, managed to get all my clothing smelling like smoke, and have not had the benefit of a roaring fire. What if I really was planning on s’mores?

So there I sat post dinner writing away and getting ready to retreat to the warmer confines of my tent with the cacophony of shrill little voices, buzzing mosquitos (though they aren’t actually very bad here), barky dogs, and campfire songs in the background. It’s a sweat life and the moment I would not change a thing (except perhaps dry wood and ice cubes).

Well I wrote last night I would not change a thing. I am now of the mindset that there is one major thing I would change about this area as well as camping in general. Please hold off the rain. Just as I was beginning to drift off to sleep I began to hear the ping of rain on my tent rain fly which is supposed to protect me from getting wet in the event of a rain occurrence. However despite the ding-ping-ring-sing-ting and zing of the rain I drifted off to sleep only to be awaked a couple hours late by a drip-drip-dripping of rain onto my shoulders and face. I did not quite have my whits about me in my semi -coma of sleep so just pulled a blanket up higher and drifted back into slumber land. When I awakened again to the dribble and drop of the wet stuff, I could not think clearly enough to move my cot over but just slid deeper in to my sleeping bag and hoped it would not soak through. My tent is brand new so I certainly could not have forecast a leaking rain fly (the tent itself is mostly netting so one can enjoy the cool breezes and feel of sleeping under the stars.) I awoke around 7:00 to the rattle or rain and began obsessing about how I would make breakfast and pack up my gear without getting bone chilling cold. Then it suddenly STOPPED. So I went about trying to get coffee and breakfast and break camp as quickly as possible while also trying to minimize the amount of sand, gravel, dirt and rain I would deposit in my car. I wasn’t particularly successful but did manage to lay out my sodden blanket and sleeping bag on top of all the other equipment to hopefully dry out. I managed to be on the road without any more rain episodes and was heading toward Fitzroy Provincial Park all the while brooding about what to do about my leaking tent as I traversed the country-side all the way to Fitzroy Provincial Park in drenching rain and amidst thunder storms.

Upon arriving at the provincial park I had already made a decision that I would go into Ottawa and get a motel. But first I wanted to check out the campsite in case I wanted to return the following day for my other reserved night. The site was totally remarkable in that it was very wet, mosquito infested and there was nothing appealing about it. I would not return on the morrow. I chose not to be a slave to my original plan and headed to the Comfort Inn in Suburban Ottawa. I thoroughly congratualted myself on a good decision. Since it did not appear that there was any imminent rain and this motel was old style with an exit sliding glass door to the parked car, I laid out a few thing to rain dry enough so I could shake the gravel, sand and clumps of mud off. I had some leftover food from the previous nights dinner in my cooler and thus had a microwaved meal, prefering not to have to get back into the car to go out to a restaurant as there was nothing within walking distance. So after reorganizing the drier equipment and the rest of the paraphernalia I thoroughly enjoyed a comfy rainproof structure, a motel room, for the night.