As much as our hearts wanted to climb on Sunday, our fingertips said no. There are worse places than Bend to be, though, on a sunny Sunday. I went for a run along the Deschutes River Trail. Though it was getting hot at that point, the tree coverage on both sides of the river was decent, and the trail itself was excellent. It wasn’t just a flat, paved path as most river trails are—it had rolling hills and even some technical terrain.
We used the free time to run errands, first stopping at Trader Joe’s to get the luxury snacks, then Fred Meyer to get the essentials. In between, we went into World Market, which I had seen before but never entered. A curious place. It’s full of home décor, but also different food sections from around the world. We bought discount “Hawaiian Maui Onion” potato chips [not a product of Hawaii] and porcini and truffle gnocchi for dinner later. At less than $5, we’ll take it.
Returning to the house with our haul, we made a sort of charcuterie lunch and watched TV, waiting a couple hours for the heat to die down. We then made our way to downtown to explore some. Though not as lively as the Old Mill District, there seemed to be plenty of solid restaurants and shops in this area. We walked to the riverfront and watched people on paddleboards and in kayaks gliding by. Before returning, we caught the second quarter of the Cowboys v. Giants game (Ryan is a Cowboys fan; I suppose I’m a Giants fan, but after this disastrous showing, I don’t want to admit it).
Now it was nearly sunset, so we parked the car back at the house and walked a short way to an overlook that connects you to the river trail. From there, you could see the concert hall where the Lumineers would be playing, and in fact, James Bay was already warming up. We found a couple groups of friends seated in the grass, effectively tailgating the concert. A few called to us, telling us we could join them on the grass and that they had plenty of food and drinks to share. Others trickled in alongside us, blankets and lawn chairs in tow. The sunset over Mt. Bachelor and the Three Sisters was beautiful, and it felt special being a part of this little listening party overlooking the Old Mill District. There are times when it really feels like humanity has gone to the wayside, and then there are moments like these—folks sharing space and food and drink and company to appreciate music together—that remind me that not all is lost.
Back at the house, I cooked the gnocchi with some vegetables and high-class Ragù sauce, and we sat down to watch Disney/Pixar’s Soul. I’ve seen the movie a couple times and have wanted Ryan to watch it for some time. I don’t recall crying at the ending in the past, but I certainly did this time.
Monday was both unremarkable and extraordinary all at once. We woke up early (Ryan to work, me from existential anxiety) and I made the huckleberry coffee I purchased in Glacier. Around mid-morning, we headed out to run along the Deschutes River Trail, me leading Ryan north as opposed to the southern loop I did the previous day. The weather was cool yet sunny, and the willow trees lining the river so lush. The winding trail was positively perfect, and we finished 10K feeling refreshed.
A couple hours later, we ventured out for some food. We picked up a fresh loaf of bread from Big Ed’s Artisan Bread; a marionberry scone and a giant chipotle chicken sandwich from Nancy P’s Cafe & Bakery; a bag of medium roast coffee from Backporch Coffee Roasters. It was all routine, but the roaming around was comforting and peaceful.
After a bit more work, cleaning up the house, packing up, and saying goodbye to the kitty, we drove to Redmond, the town north of Bend outside of Smith Rock. Unlike our usual bop-around-town exploits, Redmond did not really capture the imagination. The sun beat down on us, but none of the shops we passed really convinced us to go inside and escape the heat. We walked around for an hour before we surrendered at the car. We were trying to delay climbing to avoid getting roasted on the rock again, as well as keep from getting to camp so early that we’d be bored.
At 3:30ish, we committed to heading to Smith to hit a crag that gets shade most of the day, called the Rope-de-Dope block. This area doesn’t have any routes harder than 5.10b, which is pretty moderate. Still, we figured we’d tackle all of the 5.10s it offered (there are 6). And we did.
None of the routes were necessarily extraordinary, but all had at least one or two interesting moves. They were well-bolted and generally easy to follow. There were other climbers hanging out around us. It was kind of zen; we just worked our way left to right along the routes, trading off who put up each one. After a few hours, we were back at the car, a little fatigued but thoroughly content.
Sunset at Smith
We drove back to the campsite at Steelhead Falls, where we made veggie burritos for dinner and had one of our favorite “desserts” (an invention of Ryan’s): Clif Thins spread with peanut butter and topped with bits of dark chocolate. We were in the rooftop tent at 8:30.
I laid there awhile, reflecting on the day. While nothing particularly momentous happened, it felt inexplicably special. I suppose I was just grateful for all that transpired. You don’t always get runs that cruise so nicely. A marionberry scone paired with huckleberry coffee is a small treasure. Casually sending all of the hardest routes at a crag in a world-renowned climbing area is not something you do day every day. And who knew six months ago that I’d be crawling into a rooftop tent in Terrebonne, Oregon, not only excited to sleep there, but genuinely comforted? I can’t quite describe why it was magical. I just know it was.
Smith magic
Tuesday was another pleasant day. We started off at a shop right outside Smith called Redpoint Climbers Supply, advertising “coffee, gear, and beer.” (For a definition of “redpoint,” see this article.) We immediately fell in love with the place. One of the employees, scrambling to unlock the door for us at 8 a.m., explained that he was trying to cut his climbing rope and was currently searching for the midpoint. No trouble at all. We entered and set up at a couple tables, amid the racks of clothes and shelves of chalk and carabiners. The two employees in the shop—rope guy and a French woman—spent nearly the entire morning working on a puzzle. We discussed the bridge closure at Smith with them as well as our experience at Rope-de-Dope. It’s always rad to talk climbing with locals. We left by 1:00 with stickers, a new tank top, a cup of coffee, and a wistfulness that we couldn’t stay longer.
We were headed back into Bend one last time when Ryan proposed we go get more discount chips at World Market. We efficiently located the chips bags and I was practically chasing Ryan to the cash register, when things slowed down significantly. Our cashier was a good-natured elderly woman. She rang up the chips, and Ryan realized she hadn’t actually included the discount, which defeated the purpose of the whole detour. “Oh my,” she commented. “Let me see how to void that. I’m sorry, I’m so tired. This is my fifth day working in a row.”
We waved off her apology and patiently awaited her trying various methods to void the purchase and re-run it with the discount. “Are you working?” she asked.
“I work remotely out of Bethesda, Maryland,” Ryan answered.
Her eyes widened in amazement. “You work there, but you’re here?” Ryan nodded yes.
“That would be so nice,” she continued. “I should get a job like that. There are so many jobs out there, you know. I already have the computer and speakers and everything. I would just need a laptop. And then I wouldn’t have to leave my house so much! I wouldn’t have to stand all day!”
“Standing is good for you, though!” Ryan replied. “Don’t stop standing!”
“OK, but after five days in a row, I’m tired.”
“Haha, fair enough.”
“You two have a wonderful day now,” she said with a smile.
“You as well!”
I knew I’d write about this interaction the moment it began.
We continued into Bend to get some food. We hit a food truck recommended by Guy Fieri (side note: there is a ridiculous number of food trucks in Oregon, as if the entire state eats exclusively out of vehicles), Big Ski’s Pierogis. The pierogis were delicious, of course, and topped with sour cream and onions. Then we walked over to Monkless Belgian Ales, a brewery I really wanted to see; Belgian-style beers are my absolute favorite. Ryan gratefully was willing to sit with me as I tried their “FNG.” The menu described it as follows: “When the F’n new guy makes a mistake that becomes a happy accident, we name the beer after him! Balanced malt, toffee, caramel, notes of clove and pepper in a clean finish.” Too heavy for Ryan’s taste, but perfection to me.
Now we hit the road to Sisters, which I had heard might be one of Oregon’s best-kept small town secrets. We quickly found an abundance of camping just five minutes outside town, so we were able to park and walk around. The town was incredibly cute, and we noted a bunch of places to check out the following day. One spot, The Barn, had a lively courtyard of food trucks. Though we didn’t want to eat out, we wanted to be in the environment. So we sneakily made some burritos and smuggled them into the courtyard, just so we could eat in the fun atmosphere. Well worth it.
After dinner, we set up camp and relaxed, planning out part two of this trip. Ryan and I will both be departing next week for different destinations, but he’ll be returning much sooner than I. We compared various routes based on folks he could visit so we could see where I might join back up with him.
Now we are at Sisters Coffee Company with plans to head to Eugene later today. We’ll be linking up with one of my best friends from boarding school, Tara!
As I settle back into my life in Colorado Springs, it feels as though I’ve never left. All of my routines and rhythms are unchanged. I’m running my trails and climbing at my gym and cooking my staple meals in my kitchen. Life is peaceful, and though I am not racing out on an adventure for the foreseeable future, I am so grateful that I did. Being back has shown me that you’ve got to get out there; home will always be waiting for you when you’ve had enough. Below are some sporadic thoughts I had on the trip — perhaps not full posts unto themselves, but things I noted to write about.
I am notoriously bad at keeping track of jewelry. Especially as a young teen, I would lose priceless necklaces, earrings, and bracelets gifted to me, much to my mother’s and my dismay. I don’t know why I seem to be careless with jewelry, especially when the jewelry I wear usually are pieces that I treasure.
For this trip, I decided I’d just bring a pair of simple studs for my ears and a necklace that didn’t hold too much significance. Just putting them on before departure, I thought: I’m going to lose these. It’s kind of messed up, isn’t it, that I decided before even setting out that they would not return home? I can’t say why I had this premonition in the first place, just that it happened.
A month into the trip, I misplaced the necklace. This is usually how I lose jewelry — I think I’m putting it in a safe place, but then I forget where that clever place I selected is. I shrugged it off, thinking I’d manifested the loss.
Then on a hike in Glacier, while pulling off my sweatshirt, I felt a stud come out of my ear. It was lost in the dirt immediately, far too small to locate. I’d done it again.
When we came out of the backcountry in Banff, I asked Ryan to help me purchase a new pair of studs — something simple but would remind me of Banff. He knew exactly what I was looking for. We’d power through gift shops, quickly scanning and moving on if we didn’t land on the right earrings. Finally, I came across these little multi-colored bear studs and we agreed — these were the ones.
About a week later, I was feeling in my shorts pockets for any items to remove before washing, when I pulled out a lucky penny and my necklace. I wasn’t so careless after all!
Now the necklace and the bears are safe and sound in Colorado Springs. I’d like to think the experience shows I’ve improved.
Ryan and I were both reading The Hobbit while on the trip. Though Ryan was ahead of me by many chapters, we could still discuss themes once I had dug in a little more. One of the phrases that kept coming back to me was how Bilbo “longed for his hobbit hole” — his cozy, well-furnished abode. Though he was on the adventure of a lifetime, he failed to recognize it for much of the story; he was so uncomfortable and out of his element that he craved familiarity and home.
What struck me about Bilbo’s experience was how differently I felt. I couldn’t quite place why I didn’t long for home, though several traumatic events occurred on the trip. Usually all I want is my family and my home in times of duress. But out on the road, I couldn’t really imagine a place I’d rather be; I wanted to be there, wherever we were. Ryan felt similarly.
Now that I’m back in my “hobbit hole,” I am ever grateful for it. It doesn’t mean I won’t leave it again, but I sure appreciate it more than I had prior to leaving.
While out on a long hike in East Glacier, Ryan and I stumbled upon a mother ptarmigan and her chicks. For several minutes, we sat and watched her call to them as they made their way down the hillside, their little chirps returning her calls from all angles. It was truly a special moment for us. Once we saw them off, I found myself deeply affected; I couldn’t stop thinking of our moms.
I thought about how protective the ptarmigan mother was — how she wasn’t willing to move until she had all the chicks under her purview. It broke my heart thinking that eventually the chicks will grow up and leave her, after all the time she cared for them.
Then it hit me: we leave our moms once they’ve raised us to go off on our own. While they’re the ones who prepare us for the real world, they are thanked by us departing. I was struck by how incredibly painful that must be — to be a mom letting go of her kids, even though she knows they are ready to go. I had enormous respect for Lisa and Doris unlike I had ever had before, and it brought tears to my eyes just thinking of them seeing me and Ryan off to college and beyond.
Moms are incredibly strong. We should thank them for helping us spread our wings.
In Teton Village, I spotted a restaurant called “The Mangy Moose.” Yuck, I thought. Who would want to eat at a place with a name like that? But then it happened again — in Kalispell, a restaurant named “The Salty Calf.” Suddenly, I recalled Warwick’s own dirty animal restaurant: “The Rusty Goat Grill.”
I’m sorry, but naming a restaurant after an animal and tacking a truly unappetizing adjective in front of it doesn’t seem like sound marketing.
Back when I was getting laid off by Clif Bar, I had a series of panic attacks that always resulted from breathing too hard. I’d be out on a training run, usually with Ryan (he’s my “speed coach”), and once my breathing got labored to a certain degree, I would start panicking. It felt like something horrible was about to happen, when in reality, my body was just working harder than normal.
I thought I had shaken this affliction in the months since, but I was wrong. While camping outside of Glacier, Ryan and I did this run up and down the hill to our campsite, Ryan Road. It was 3 miles roundtrip, and the perfect burn. On our last day at this site, we decided to do the loop one last time, and I think both of us knew we wanted to push it a little.
The way down was fine, but as we started back up the hill and my breath became erratic, I could feel the panic setting in. It’s OK, I told myself. You’re just chasing Ryan up the hill. You’re supposed to be out of breath. It wasn’t enough. By the time we reached our site, I wanted to cry and I couldn’t tell why. I took several laps walking around the site to bring myself down and managed to quell my worries. The human psyche is a frail, frail thing.
There were a few instances while Ryan and I were in Canada that one of us would use the phrase, “When we go home…” — in this case, “home” referred to the U.S., not Colorado Springs, nor Colorado, Warwick, or New York. It was kind of funny to think of “home” as one large expanse south of us, and I suppose in our case, it was. Though we had mapped a general route, with our set-up, we could go anywhere. Be anywhere. Call anywhere “home.”
With further reflection, though, we agreed that home really is where the heart is, as cheesy as it might be. Colorado Springs is home to Ryan because not only does he live there, but so does practically his whole family and most of his friends. In contrast, home is both Colorado and New York to me. While my family is across the country, many of my closest friends and lots of “chosen family” are in the same state as I am. Were my family to visit or even move to Colorado, Colorado would become the resounding answer to “Where is home?” It’s all about the people, less about the place.
I came up with an analogy on this trip that I’m unreasonably proud of: Mountain Project descriptions are like astrological readings. They are simultaneously descriptive and vague enough that any route you look at may or may not be the route you’re viewing on the app.
I am convinced we entered the Twilight Zone in early July. It was in a Safeway in New Mexico. Typically, I am a “King Soopers or die” type of gal, but we needed a few items, including chips. Ryan is the king of salty snacks, so I left the decision to him. He spotted a family-size bag of crispy tortilla chips. “‘Juantonio’s’?” I smirked at the bag, questioningly. “Juantonio can’t be a real name. I mean, I suppose it’s something like ‘John-Anthony.’ But still.” The chips looked pretty good, though, so we bought it.
Well, since that moment in the Safeway, we never found Juantonio again. The chips are still in most markets — but they’re called “Juanita’s.” I have damn near lost my mind seeing Juanita’s everywhere, because I know Juantonio’s exists somewhere. I started to wonder if the name difference somehow plays into demographics. After all, Kroger goes by many different names depending on where you are: King Soopers in urban Colorado; City Market in mountain town Colorado; Smith’s in Wyoming; Fred Meyer in Idaho; QVC in Washington.
I have done some research behind this Juantonio/Juanita discrepancy, but I ultimately don’t want to know. Now I understand why people love conspiracy theories.
A month later, I am still reminiscing about Tim Horton’s in Canada. I have been a Dunkin’ fan my whole life, and Tim Horton’s is essentially a Canadian version, with key differences. The food and drink offerings, while not identical, are incredibly similar. However, at Tim Horton’s, you can truly dine in. They give you your coffee in a ceramic mug, your donut on a ceramic plate. When you enter Tim Horton’s, there are undoubtedly several groups of people seated, enjoying their breakfast and coffee together. It makes me actually laugh to imagine the same sight at Dunkin’. Dunkin’ clientele is way too busy for that. Just give me my damn coffee because I’m already late. It’s just further proof that Canada is and always will be superior to the U.S.
The longest stint Ryan and I went without showering on this trip was probably 10 days. Ten days, when you are as active as we are, allows you to get sufficiently smelly and hairy. I think since both of stunk, it didn’t really bother us, though the eventual shower was quite welcome. Before long, we really became comfortable with not knowing when our next shower would be. So much so, that I think I’ve become too comfortable. Though I am once more living in a house with running water, I went four days last week without showering. It just didn’t seem necessary? We’ll say I’m saving the planet, conserving water.
It’ll take a while for this trip to truly sink in. It was everything you could expect from a journey like this and more: joyful, heartbreaking, rewarding, frustrating, challenging, inspiring, spontaneous … the list goes on.
In an effort to process the adventure, Ryan and I sat down on our last day and tried to hone in on our “greatest hits.” These are the people, places, and things we’ll treasure the most, but really. The whole trip was spectacular.
To start, some trip stats:
Days on the road: 56
Nights camping: 37
Miles driven: ~5,800
Miles run: 113.4
Miles hiked: 120.15
Best Hike
We expected to climb a lot more than hike on this trip, but clearly from the mileage above, we gained a great appreciation for walking in the woods—particularly backpacking. We agreed that the best hike was to Two Medicine Lake in East Glacier. It was 12 miles of very little elevation and meandering trail that took you through all sorts of environments, including a huckleberry patch. We encountered a hoary groundhog and ptarmigan mom with her chicks along the way, and the view at the lake itself was stunning. A close second was Delta Lake, since the first time we attempted it, we got hailed on in the gnarliest fashion, and the second time (when we actually made it to the lake), we encountered a grizzly on the way down. Honorable mention goes to our backpack in to Crevice Lake, since it was our first time backpacking together and the lake was also stellar.
Two Medicine LakeDelta Lake Backpacking in Yellowstone
Best Run
While a lot of our runs consisted of roads and paved bike paths, it felt like we should still mention a couple we liked. Running up and down Ryan Road was a great run, since it took you down, down, down, then up, up, up. It was exactly 3 miles and an excellent workout. Similarly, the Mosier Plateau Trail took you up, down, up, down and back again. The views at the top and bottom of the Columbia River were solid and this also really got the heartrate up—in a good way.
Best Beer
We had to distinguish between best beer and best brewery/pub, since they don’t always align. We sampled many beers on this trip, and although we sometimes kicked ourselves for it, it was never egregious. We only really drink a single beer in a sitting, maybe two if it’s a Friday or Saturday. In any event, the best beer we tried was in a random pizza place in Bend: Jeremiah Johnson Honey Weizen (Great Falls, MT). We both love hefeweizens and you could really taste the honey. The best “basic” beer we got was Sneaky Weasel by Balderdash Beer (Vancouver, BC)—a crisp lager with good flavor. And the most unique beer was hands down Más Boss West Coast IPA, which we got at Boss Rambler Beer Club (Bend, OR). This was most unique since we got it topped with a frosé float.
Honorable mentions go to some specific styles: the Tamarack Brewing Keylime Radler (Lakeside, MT), which was sold to us as a margarita radler; Roadhouse Brewing Wilson IPA (Jackson, WY); and Iron Goat Slam Dunkel (Spokane, WA).
It should be noted that pretty much all of these beers are from different states!
Best Brewery / Pub
Another very stiff competition. The winner has to be 3 Bears Brewery in Banff, though. Not only was the beer solid, the chicken sandwich we got was out of this world and came with waffle fries. The atmosphere won out, with an open air ceiling and plants hanging all around us. Plus, we’d just finished three days of hard backpacking. Still, we’d also like to recognize Grand Teton Brewing Company in Victor, Idaho, for its unpretentious vibe and delicious beer. We sat in lawn chairs at sunset and ate tons of free popcorn, after being drenched by rain and hail.
Honorable mention goes to Stagecoach, which was a lively brewpub on Teton Pass with lots of solid beers on tap and excellent street food.
Munchin popcorn at GTBC
Best Food
This one was not a competition at all. Hands down, Capones in Coeur d’Alene was the best food we ate. I mean, we ate there twice, it was so good. We ordered only Guy Fieri suggestions, including “sweet hot” boneless wings and a Philly cheesesteak. I could eat those wings for the rest of my life.
That said, we want to shout out Fire Tacos in West Seattle, since it was likely our best food pick without Guy’s guidance. The birria nachos and churros we got were maybe the best we’ve ever eaten. Honorable mention goes to Dump City Dumplings in Bend, as those dumplings were so unique and tasty.
Birria nachos at Fire Tacos
Best Pastry
I think it’s funny that we ingest so many pastries, it was necessary to included them as a category in the Greatest Hits. The best had to be the pecan sticky bun from La Baguette in Revelstoke. We got it twice as well, it was that life-changing. Second is the huckleberry bearclaw from Polebridge Mercantile outside of West Glacier. Though it had gotten a little rain-soaked, it held its claw shape and its integrity. Honorable mentions are split between us: for me, it was the bee sting bun I got at The Daily in Bozeman, which was like a cream cheese-filled, almond- and honey-topped round croissant, and for Ryan, the almond poppy seed croissant he got at Morning Glory Cafe in Eugene.
Pecan sticky bun on left Speaks for itself
Best Coffee Shop
We drank a lot of coffee on this trip, both in and out of shops, as a way to fuel our work. We’re always looking for the best coffee shop “vibe,” and that’s ultimately how we chose the winners in this category. Number one is Coeur d’Alene Coffee Co., which had multiple fireplaces and lots of couches and nooks and crannies to work in. Runners up are Treeline Coffee Roasters in Bozeman—a hipster, botanical vibe—and Sisters Coffee Co. in Sisters, Oregon—a homey, log-cabin vibe. Both were absolutely hopping when we were there, which speaks to their reputation and popularity.
A shout out to Redpoint Climbers Supply, which is really a gear shop first and a coffee shop second. The employees there were straight chillers and they hooked Ryan up with free drip coffee while I was out and about.
Best Song
We are always trying to accumulate new tunes, and it was no different on this trip. The song of the trip is probably “no song without you” by HONNE, which we listened to endlessly. We are very fond of HONNE, especially their songs “Day 1” and “Me & You.” (Fun fact about HONNE, since I’m a music geek: “honne” is a Japanese word that means “true feelings.”) A close runner-up is “cool with it” by brb.—I recommend “your love” and “move” by brb. as well. Finally, we have to call out “Adventure” by Russ. It’s off his new album, released while we were on the trip, and is just fitting.
Honorable mention goes to “Lil Boo Thang” by Paul Russell, also released on the trip and sent to Ryan by our friend Geo.
Best Podcast
Though we listened mostly to music, podcasts were definitely a welcome change of pace. While we couldn’t recall a ton of super noteworthy pods, we did especially like “Why can no one agree on the truth anymore?” a Modern Wisdom podcast in which host Chris Williamson interviews Eric Weinstein, a mathematician, economist, managing director of Thiel Capital, and a podcaster. It will blow your mind.
Best Town
This one was super tough, since we can appreciate virtually any place we go for its charms. We decided to split the category into mountain towns and “town towns.” Of the mountain towns, we liked Victor, Idaho, and Banff, British Columbia, best. Victor was tiny but had some exceptional little spots, and Banff, though crowded with tourists, is just stunning. As for “town towns,” Bozeman, Montana, was one of our faves for its variety of activities and eateries, and Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, for its food, climbing, water, shops … everything!
Downtown Banff View in north Bozeman View over Lake Coeur d’Alene
Best Sport Route
The majority of our climbing was bouldering, but we still did enough sport to call out some routes. Our favorite areas were definitely Smith Rock in Bend and Rattler Gulch in Missoula. Of the routes in those places, we liked Cat Scan (5.11b) in Smith (though we were absolutely roasted by the sun) and Fashion Disaster (5.10d) in Rattler. Cat Scan had great crimps and committing moves, while Fashion Disaster had the most variety of moves, including laybacks and a dyno.
Ryan on Fashion Disaster Smith Rock
Best Boulder
We definitely think the V5 we did at Tubbs Hill in Coeur d’Alene (uncreatively named “Tubbs Hill #4a“) was the best problem; it had a sweet overhanging roof that felt like you were tackling something in the gym. We also just loved a lot of the bouldering areas we hit, generally. Tubbs Hill was the best due to its proximity to the lake, but we also liked the Overhangutang boulder in Bozeman (so wide and had a variety of levels on it), Grohman Boulders outside of Nelson, BC (right above the train tracks, overlooking the town), and the Empire Boulders outside White Salmon, Washington (in the most magical, quintessential PNW forest).
Tubbs Hill bouldering View from Grohman Boulders Empire Boulders
Best Campsite
We slept in everything from designated campgrounds to glorified parking lots, and by the end, felt pretty good at sleeping anywhere. Our favorite campsite had to be Curtis Canyon outside of Jackson, Wyoming. The road to get to our spot was so gnarly and you had to really work for it, but the views of the Tetons the whole way were insane. Sunset and sunrise were excellent, the latter especially since it included cinnamon oat Kodiak Cakes. In second place is Ryan Road outside of West Glacier, since it was not only beautiful, but also offered great running. And finally, we have to highlight our spot outside of Green River, which offered a top-notch sunset and some solace after a very hard week: a broken phone, the passing of my dog, and work stress.
Curtis CanyonRyan RoadGreen River
Best Animal Encounter
I don’t think either of us really considered all the wildlife we’d see (minus preparing for bears with mace), but wow. So many animals. Over the course of the trip, we saw a bear, elk, deer, bison, wolves, marmots, pikas, snakes, lizards, rams, sheep, eagles, hawks, ptarmigans, a hoary groundhog, and even a woolly caterpillar. The best sighting had to be the bison in Yellowstone, since we were absolutely flooded by a herd of them flanking all sides of the car. However, stumbling upon a grizzly bear while hiking was also a sick experience, mainly because it taught us exactly how to handle such a situation, and we handled it well. We’d be remiss to not highlight the wolves, too, since we woke up at 4:00 a.m. two days in a row just to spot them. While tiny in the frame of Ryan’s binoculars, it was still so special to see them.
I also will give an honorable mention to the ptarmigan mom and her chicks on the Two Medicine Lake trail, since we got to sit and watch them for several minutes, so close we could reach out and touch them if we wanted.
Further Reflection
While we each learned particular things about ourselves individually, we learned some lessons together that we’ll carry with us. These lessons weren’t new nor earth-shattering, but the trip hit them home.
First, always be flexible. We never got upset about the changes of plans, the inclement weather, the availability of friends and family, because we always wrote our plans in pencil. We’re highly logistical people, constantly reordering our to-do list to optimize our efficiency. This tactic served us well over and over, and because we’re so prone to changing plans, it almost seems like the first plan will never be how things play out. We have more empathy for others who change plans as a result, too.
The second lesson is always having open and honest communication. It doesn’t matter who you travel with; if you’re on the road for two months and see that person day in and day out, sharing close quarters, you’re going to get under each other’s skin. For the most part, we did not bug each other too much, but there were certainly moments where it felt like we weren’t understanding each other well. The more we pushed ourselves to confront one another when things didn’t feel right or fair, as well as learn to agree to disagree sometimes, the better our relationship became. Moreover, we learned to give each other space by creating space for ourselves— sometimes running separately, going for walks alone, breaking off to call loved ones. It’s a tricky balance, but by the end, we had struck it decently well.
This trip was challenging for us both week to week, for different reasons. The biggest challenge for me was having to grieve while on the road; I was completely separated from familiar people and places when I lost my dog, then my job, then my grandmother—all in the course of a few weeks. I struggled to process these losses tremendously and admittedly haven’t fully processed any of them. Ryan, for his part, thinks the greatest challenge for him was having to watch me endure these losses and try to support me as best as he could. Grief shows up differently for everyone, which makes it challenging as a friend to know exactly how to show up for those grieving. While the loss of a dog was difficult for Ryan to empathize with, as he’s never owned a pet, he was enormously helpful with coping with the job situation. Both of us were taken aback by how it all transpired, and it led to many rich conversations about the meaning of work. By the end of the trip, I think we both improved our approach to this complicated course of events: I tried harder to reach out to others to avoid putting the full emotional, care-taking burden on Ryan, while Ryan developed more grace for my weepy ways as he came to understand my position better.
There were aspects of the trip that surprised us. As mentioned, we never expected to hike so much—and hike more often than run or climb. We learned that all the hiking really made us “mountain tough.” While we weren’t as fit as usual since we weren’t lifting or going to the rock gym, our functional fitness skyrocketed. We weren’t affected by all the scrapes and bumps and bruises we acquired while trekking through rugged terrain. We were absolutely cranking miles with 30-pound packs on our backs. We became more durable, generally—to heat, cold, rain, wind.
We also had no plans to spend time in Idaho, and ended up loving Idaho most. Victor and Coeur d’Alene were some of our favorite spots, and we spent several days in both.
We realized we’re not city people. We felt so uncomfortable in Spokane that we left after 24 hours, and we didn’t even get out of the car in Portland. I remembered how we similarly struggled in San Francisco last fall, too. In all instances, we’d felt sort of weird, decided to go for a hike instead, and felt immediately better. The one exception to this rule was Seattle—we had a great time there. I think it’s because not only did we do a lot of exploring by bike, but also we had friends to direct us where to go.
Looking back, we’re also kind of shocked at how much we accomplished in every National Park. We did double hikes and fully explored the surrounding towns. We made that pass worth it!
What would we change? Not much, honestly. Obviously we’d have fewer rainy or smoky days, but we didn’t get hampered too much by either. Ryan would have the car set-up a little more organized and dialed, but given the time we had before leaving, it worked pretty well. I think I would take back times where we ate out at chains or settled on mediocre food—there was so much GOOD food to be had, why waste calories and money on stuff that we can get any time or isn’t that appealing?
Things we’d do again? Is it a cop out to say “the whole trip”? Really, we are still a little floored about how it turned out. We’ve discussed doing the whole thing over every 3-5 years. The next time we do it, we’d like to go in reverse. We’ll head toward Arizona first, to Sedona in particular, then work through parks in California. And hit more hikes and waterfalls in the PNW!
The interactions we had on this trip were 99% positive. We tried to pick the funniest conversation, but it was hard to choose. The old man at the Apple Store in Spokane; the gentleman at the natural spring outside West Glacier; the Canadians who ran down the Delta Lake trail with us in the Tetons; the liquor store owner in Revelstoke; the man named Bones in Mansface Liquor in Green River. There’s one interaction I never wrote about but STILL cracks Ryan up, as it’s something that only would happen to me.
In Jackson, while checking out the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar, a woman came up to me. She had clearly had a few drinks and was quite animated.
“Excuse me, sorry. Could you take a picture of me and my husband?”
“Of course!”
“OK, great! The thing is, we never have any candid photos and I really want this to look natural. He’s in the bathroom right now, and I’m hoping you can get a picture of us here, with the bar sign in the background, without him noticing.”
“I will certainly try my best…”
I walked about 15 feet past their table and turned around. It already looked so choreographed. She had her seat side by side with her husband’s and had arranged everything on the table. And she was staring right at me. There was no way I was going to be unnoticeable. As I tried to figure out a way to hide myself a little, someone at the bar took the seat next to Ryan (who was trying to stay as uninvolved as possible), and the woman freaked out. She was gesturing wildly to me that SOMEONE TOOK YOUR SEAT!!! and I kept waving her off to assure it really did not matter to me. She got so upset about it that by the time her husband returned, she spilled the beans immediately and told him how I was going to get a photo of them but someone had TAKEN HER SEAT!!! Ryan was laughing mercilessly at me. I don’t know how I get into these situations so often, but it seems to be a pattern.
The bad interactions, on the other hand, were few and far between. We frequently got suspicious looks at bars since folks seemed distrustful of Colorado licenses, plus our licenses look different since we’re two years apart and the style changed during that time. There were the jerks who honked on the dirt road in Green River where we were camping, at 3:00 am. And there was a dude on a longboard who cursed out an elderly couple when they refused to take a flower from him.
There are a lot of things we’ll miss. Ryan admittedly will miss pooping in the woods (just feels natural now). We both will miss sleeping in the tent and waking up to new views and places every week. I will miss Ryan singing to me every morning, to the tune of “You Are My Sunshine,” a song with the first lyrics always being “Her name is Sarah…” We’ll miss the coffee in the morning at camp and crawling into the tent at night, the sound of rain on the roof, the crisp mountain air.
That said, we’re glad for some things to be over. For me, I got sick of all the shenanigans to keep devices charged all the time. Ryan got frustrated at times by trying to make workspaces outdoors function well (mostly just in the rain). It’ll be a welcome change to not worry about where we’ll shower or do laundry next, and we’re looking forward to reconnecting with friends and family we’ve sorely missed.
We want to thank a lot of folks for their support during our journey.
To Amaury, thanks for taking us out in Aspen before the journey began and letting us crash under your standing desk.
To the Atencios, thanks for letting us join your Vail vacation by having us out to dinner, letting us stay overnight, going fly fishing, and making us homemade waffles.
To “Captain” John Mastrangelo, thanks for hosting us at the front end of the trip when Ryan’s phone malfunctioned and Chowder was in the hospital, and on short notice.
To Landon, thanks for meeting up with us in Missoula and for the climbing, beers, and camping. It was so great to see a friendly face after weeks of being out!
To Uncle Carey, thanks for hosting us in Mosier, feeding us dinner, letting us play with Bella, and having all the lively conversations.
To Tara, thanks for hosting us in Eugene and being down for BLTs and face masks, showing us your favorite spots to eat and drink, taking time at the bookstore to explore, and just being a magical human being overall.
To Jenna and Jake, thanks for not only treating us to gourmet food, but also saving us the worry of where to go the night before our early flights. We are indebted to you for letting us leave our valuables at your house and giving us a safe place to stay before leaving.
Thanks to our families for trusting us to figure things out and being a support from afar throughout; to our friends who checked in and friends who took our calls. It would be difficult to name each and every one of you, but please know how much we appreciated hearing your voices and reading your texts and emails. It made us feel less far from home.
And last but not least, thanks to YOU, the reader of this nonsense, whether it was every single post, just the first and last, or some in between. I have always loved to write for my own enjoyment, and it means the absolute world to me that anyone cares to read my writing. To know that my words may have had a positive impact on even one person brings me immense joy.
Our second day in Lacey was similarly mellow. We went for a 10K run, then made lunch with as many of our remaining ingredients as possible. By late afternoon, we had finished working, packed up all our things, cleaned up the house, and gotten the dogs squared away. On to our final night of camping!
We had picked out our campsite on Snoqualmie Pass, an hour and 45 minutes away. There were lots of options to stop between Lacey and there, but we ultimately landed on North Bend — only 30 minutes from camp. We pulled into town and it was actually rather busy. All the parking spots on Main Street were full. We hopped out and strolled around a bit. I forced Ryan to take a picture as “a beautiful butterfly,” and a woman walking by paused. “My friend painted that. She used to own this place on the corner, and she painted the black and white section. Then when she sold it, the new owners had another artist add the colorful section.” The more you know.
We got beers at Volition Brewing (solid Oktoberfests) and discussed our next business venture by a fire. The temperature range in North Bend looked to be a low of 40 and high of 50 for the whole week, and it felt like it. We then moved on to El Caporal, a Mexican place just a quarter mile away. While it was not spectacular, the food was pretty solid, and I will never turn away free chips.
We made our way to camp, where we promptly set up for the last time. It was drizzling when we arrived and continued to rain through the whole night. It felt familiar. It was bittersweet to think that sleeping out in the rain had become so normal for us, just for it to end.
The next morning, we got up and headed to our last coffee shop adventure, Huxdotter in North Bend. Naturally, we needed to get one last pastry. I got a pumpkin scone (delish). We spent a solid hour at Huxdotter reviewing the trip, compiling the highlights: everything from our favorite hike to the best song we found. It was fitting and proper to reminisce this way on our last day, though somewhat sad. It really was the trip of a lifetime.
Once we were satisfied with our picks, we headed back into Seattle to meet a mountain guide friend of mine, Rob. Rob took me out climbing in Boulder when I was visiting Colorado College as a soon-to-be-senior and again the following summer, when I had enrolled as a freshman. He’s got an incredible guiding résumé and in recent years was working in Chamonix, France. He and his wife and twin sons moved to Seattle in 2021.
We wanted to meet up to climb, but given all the rain, outdoors wasn’t really an option. Rob very generously offered his two guest passes at Seattle Bouldering Project, so we met him there at midday. We had an excellent time catching up with him and getting to pull on some plastic again. Though he likes Seattle, Rob admits that he hasn’t gotten used to all the driving it requires. “I had access to trails via biking or running from the age of 18 to 49,” he lamented. “It’s a hard adjustment.”
Rob sending! A selfie for my dad
After an hour and a half or so, Rob had to skedaddle, but we stayed longer to utilize the guest passes to the fullest. By the time we truly departed, it was almost 3:00 and we hadn’t had lunch. Trusting foodies Jake and Jenna for recommendations, we headed to University Village to grab food at Mr. West. As a final meal out, this really hit the spot. Ryan got a massive turkey club and I got shakshuka — probably the best shakshuka I’ve ever had. My battery life had gotten really low, and this food restored me.
Behold!
For the next couple hours, we did our usual exploring. The University Village was full of lots of shops and restaurants, so we popped in and out of a handful, including Kiehl’s and Backcountry. At some point we stumbled on Tesla and spent a good while there, talking to one of the representatives and asking questions about the Model Y’s features. If Tesla is not the future of cars, I don’t know what is.
Traffic was a real headache, so we decided to go for a little stroll at Magnuson Park. While we did not find a very long pathway to walk, we did get some picturesque sunset views of the water and sailboats floating by. Still stalling, we went to Magnuson Cafe and Brewery to get the final brew as well. It was hard to ignore the feelings of the impending end to the trip, but we still had a fun time.
As we drove toward Jake and Jenna’s, we decided we really wanted to climb just a little bit more — we had missed a whole bouldering section at the gym earlier. So we resolved to go back to SBP for just 30 minutes to hit them. While the gym was very chill at noon, it was an absolute madhouse at 8:00 p.m. We blitzkrieg-ed the problems we hadn’t yet touched, weaving in and out of swarms of people. We’re used to CityROCK getting pretty swamped from 4:00-7:00, but it usually cools down after that. It was completely opposite here, and we didn’t know anyone on top of it. While we were happy to get one last session in, we certainly weren’t sad to get out of the crowded environment.
We eventually made it to J&J’s at 9:00 and proceeded to unload the car of all valuables to keep stored while we’re gone. Quick showers and we were finally eating dinner at 9:30. Jake gratefully stayed up to help us out and even set up the fire pit on the back patio so we could hang out and eat. Then it was off to bed at 10:30 for our “nap” before waking at 2:30 to head to SeaTac.
I’m finishing this last update in the south terminal right now. Ryan’s already in the air and has been for 20 minutes or so. It’s quite difficult to process what this trip meant for me (not only because it’s 5:30 a.m. and I got 4 hours of sleep). Tears streamed down my face for the umpteenth time as I hugged Ryan goodbye and waved him off. As challenging as this trip was for me at times, I wouldn’t change a thing. And I don’t think Ryan would, either.
I made the description for this travel page “exercising our right to errantry.” Errantry is a Tolkien word that I learned around 6 months ago, meaning: the quality, condition, or fact of wandering; especially: a roving in search of chivalrous adventure. I can’t think of a more fitting term for the last two months. Thanks for reading — highlights to come.
Before we even left for this trip, Ryan and I were adamant about one thing: our plans would always be flexible. So much so, that at the time we set out, there was only one time constraint: our backpacking campsite reservations in Banff, August 25th-27th. Outside of those dates, nothing was set in stone. And even those dates weren’t rigid; I had paid only $45 for those sites. If we didn’t make it in time, it was no huge financial loss.
We sketched a rough itinerary, estimating about a week per National Park (Grand Teton Yellowstone, Glacier, Banff), then had intentions to move west toward Vancouver, then down into Seattle, Portland, and so on. The beauty of this trip has been the looseness. It was a few weeks in that we realized: there was no way we could dedicate the proper time to the Pacific Northwest if we hauled all the way through California to Ryan’s cousin in Newport Beach. Therefore, we committed to sticking to Washington and Oregon for the second half of the trip and book flights out of one of the two states.
We couldn’t have predicted the fires this summer — not only where they would be, but their scale. Given the proliferation of fires in Canada, we were unsure if we’d make it to Banff. As luck would have it, the skies cleared the day we arrived, after we closely monitored the situation all week. However, we knew that heading to Vancouver would mean smoky skies. It was honestly a happy re-route to head to Revelstoke (perhaps our favorite of all the mountain towns we’ve seen) and then down into Washington.
Spokane proved to be sketchy and have odd energy, so we didn’t stay. We posted up in Coeur d’Alene for four days, refusing to enter Spokane again until Ryan’s watch was fixed at the Apple Store. As soon as it was, we retrieved it and immediately hit the road. Ryan and I are both concerned about the ~vibes~, and we have no issue leaving a place, be it a town, restaurant, or shop, that seems off.
The original plan was to do Washington first, Oregon second. However, Ryan really wanted to see his friends, Jake and Jenna, in Seattle, and they were out of town until September 12 (after meeting them, I see why!). So we re-routed again. We’d go to Oregon first, and that dictated our trajectory — we’d reach Mosier and my uncle Carey first, and then we could make a little loop of Bend to Eugene (and Tara) to Portland. Seattle has proven to be the only other time crunch we’ve set for ourselves: we’ll be flying out of the Seattle airport this week.
We’ve told many friends and family members — those we’ve seen on the road or caught up with on the phone — that we can really only plan week to week. It’s genuinely difficult planning further ahead than that. It’s a combination of those factors that we can’t control (like fires and Ryan’s watch being stuck in repair) and our desire to spend more or less time in certain places. Who knew we’d spend four days in Bozeman and four in Coeur d’Alene, but not even one full day in Spokane? Who knew we’d never make it to Vancouver (or California for that matter), but spend significant time in Idaho? That’s just been the nature of the trip.
On a microlevel, we are adapting on a daily basis. We relocate campsites; we pick up Trusted Housesitter gigs; we travel early or late or during lunch to piece things together. While both of us feel that our upcoming travels won’t necessarily be restful (I am going to some big family festivities while Ryan is going to a bachelor’s weekend), we agree that it will be such a nice logistical break. For a handful of days, we won’t have to be thinking about where we’ll be sleeping next, when we’ll get our next shower, where we’ll do laundry, how soon we need more ice, what groceries we’re low on, and on and on. In that respect, it will be an enormous mental reboot.
When you embrace this sort of flexibility, not only do you open yourself up to more opportunities, but you also save yourself from being too hellbent on any particular plan. You don’t get your hopes up too high, and in fact, you often find experiences far surpassing your expectations. I can’t imagine a trip that’s more rewarding, challenging, exhilarating, frustrating, and beautiful. Life isn’t always about having everything scheduled perfectly — things are bound to go awry that way. As corny as it sounds, it’s about going with the flow and riding the waves as they come.
