Death Valley with Jutta

Death Valley National Park in California

We are in Death Valley National Park on the last day of the year. With Jutta having been here a couple of other times, we decided to take her into a corner she hadn’t visited yet, nor had we.

Death Valley National Park in California

To get to our surprise location, we had to head to the west side of the park and find the Emigrant Canyon Road turnoff.

Death Valley National Park in California

Our route took us right into the snowline on this beautiful blue sky day.

Jutta Engelhardt and Caroline Wise in Death Valley National Park in California

We are at the Wildrose Charcoal Kilns that are now long out of use, but back in the late 1800s they were busy at work making charcoal for the miners in the area.

Death Valley National Park in California

Our views were spectacular up here, affording Jutta sights of Death Valley that few take the time to see. From way up here, we needed to way back down there as Caroline needed to get to the visitors center before they closed so she could be sworn in for her newest Junior Ranger badge.

Jutta Engelhardt and Caroline Wise in Death Valley National Park in California

With a stroll down a boardwalk in Death Valley, we closed out 2013.

Jutta in the California Desert

Jutta Engelhardt and Caroline Wise at Joshua Tree National Park in California

After a good long rest to get over jetlag, we were on our first getaway with a weekend trip to California.

Joshua Tree National Park in California

Our first stop was at the Joshua Tree National Park.

Joshua Tree National Park in California

We took our time strolling through the desert so Jutta gets a nice close look at the details of what lives here.

Joshua Tree National Park in California

From dragonflies to tarantulas, we spotted more than a few signs of wildlife calling this home.

Jutta Engelhardt at Joshua Tree National Park in California

I’ve said it before, but it bears saying again: it might have taken me a long time to get my mother-in-law to show us a natural smile, but she finally got it figured out.

Joshua Tree National Park in California

Along the way, Caroline has been doing a workbook so she could earn her Junior Ranger badge. While Jutta is actively participating in helping Caroline, the prize will be Caroline’s alone.

Caroline Wise at Joshua Tree National Park in California

Back at the visitor center, Caroline turned in her research and studied answers and was once again sworn in as a Junior Ranger.

Denver to Rocky Mountains

Denver Botanical Garden, Colorado

Before heading out of Denver this morning, I have another request from Caroline to satisfy, and that’s for us to visit the Denver Botanical Garden. You can rest assured that these orchids are not near our motel because our typical lodging arrangement is more likely to smell of cigarette smoke, stale beer, and a hint of urine and located where, at best, weeds might be growing. Where exactly we stayed is lost, lost, lost, as are many details about this trip to Denver because, once again, this is another of those posts that arise from a forgotten past when, for reasons beyond the timeline of active memory, there was nothing ever written or noted about this visit and so in 2023 I’m here at work trying to assemble something that might reflect relatively accurately about the events of the day.

Denver Botanical Garden, Colorado

Searching for something to say about the garden, there was a moment when I thought I wanted to claim it felt like cheating to photograph gardens and flowers as everything is already organized, but just as quickly as I entertained that idea, I realized that photographing anything is in essence configured in a similar way as whatever the subject matter aside from people and animals, the scene is presented as the scene is. Still, there’s something that has me feeling like I’m adding filler with no valuable caloric content, just sugary convenience.

Denver Botanical Garden, Colorado

I spent nearly 90 minutes writing the previous two paragraphs, which could be more time than we even spent in the garden; such is the nature of scouring a mind, looking for any hint of impressions that might have been made a decade earlier. One could be wondering what the importance is of backfilling this stuff, and my answer is that without the photos up here, they are lost in the depths of my hard drive where we rarely, if ever, look back at the photos occupying those magnetic particles. Take this post where I’m sharing 17 of what I felt were the best photos on the day we were visiting Colorado. I shot 229 photos, and the majority of them should be tossed. The tedium of going through so many photos to reacquaint ourselves with memories would be cumbersome, while here on the blog, we can do a quick scan of a day to pick up the high points, and if we are so inclined, we can read a little something or other that might offer us a chuckle.

Denver Botanical Garden, Colorado

Maybe I have a small disconnect with flower gardens in that I’m not sure where they come from. Take this dahlia; where do they grow wild? After a little search, I learned they originate in Mexico and Central America, while roses came from Central Asia. I’d wager that my relationship with flowers was negatively influenced by the fact that in my childhood, I only ever saw them in stores and that they now feel like some kind of cultivar only created for human appreciation, kind of like chihuahuas.

Squirrel at the Denver Botanical Garden, Colorado

While still at Wikipedia, I thought I’d look up something interesting about the squirrel, and well, there’s little that’s really interesting about this furry creature. But then, just as I was about to turn away, I gave a second thought to its name, which in Old English was Ācweorna, that gave way in the days of Middle English to Aquerne; both words are cognates of the German word Eichhorn. Look closely at the English variants, and you should be able to see the similarity. Obviously, we are not near squirrel yet, which would be influenced by the Anglo-Norman French word esquirel, which came from the Latin sciurus (which in turn is derived from Greek skíouros, which means shadow tail). For those of you who might not know much about the English language you speak, its origins are mostly found in French and German, with nearly nothing remaining of the original forms of English in the modern tongue we use.

Denver Botanical Garden, Colorado

Going out on a limb here by claiming this might be a magenta strawflower.

On the way to Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

It was now time to head up into the mountains, the Rocky Mountains National Park, to be precise. For one reason or another, we opted to travel the southern boundary and enter through the western gate. Maybe it was meant to facilitate a loop around and through the park, but without afternoon photos, I wasn’t able to decide with any certainty. What I am confident about is that we had beautiful weather for our visit.

On the way to Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

I wanted to believe that this is the Colorado River but after chasing the road using Street View, I can’t figure out anything about the location.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at the Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

Entering the Rocky Mountain National Park via Trailridge Road on the west side of the park just north of Grand Lake. I’m certain about this fact, as the rock layout of the foundation of this sign matches the Street View capture. Looking back at this 10-year-old image of me, I can better recognize the amount of gray hair that was appearing and realize that it didn’t happen as quickly as I sometimes fear. As for Caroline, and I’m sure she’ll disagree, she looks exactly the same, though she’ll point out that she now has about 30 gray hairs at the center front of her hairline; big deal because I now start looking like Santa Claus.

Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

Thanks to the good ‘ol internet for reminding me that we are at the Continental Divide in front of Poudre Lake. By the way, you may notice here that the weather is changing. Look closely and you might catch a whisp of a rainbow that’s over the small lake right near the short here.

Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

We are in front of the Alpine Visitors Center

Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

Hunting for sunshine and blue skies limits the direction I’m taking photos. With the change in conditions, you can bet we’ll have to plan on a return visit to capture the vistas under optimal conditions.

Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

While faint, there’s nothing wrong with double rainbows to brighten the heavy clouds marching in.

Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

We never expected that our visit would turn into a trip to the Rainbow Rockies.

Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

The elevation up here is no joke, with me getting dizzy every time we step out of the car. Hopefully, upon our return on a future visit, we’ll opt to stay in Estes Park in order to acclimatize to the heights of this national park.

Clarks Nutcracker bird at the Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

What a perfect example of the Clarks Nutcracker that posed for minutes, striking various stances for me to capture its elegance.

Caroline Wise at the Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado

To the astute reader, you might recognize that this photo of Caroline earning her Junior Rangers badge was at the Kawuneeche Visitor Center, which is near where we entered the park, and that would be correct. It’s placed here at the end of the post, as I felt it was a good closing for this entry.

Following our visit to the Rocky Mountains, we likely drove back to Denver via Estes Park and then headed towards our hotel in Aurora. We dined at a Ted’s Montana Grill around the corner from the ALoft at the Airport. Afterward, we returned to our room because, at the break of dawn the next day, we were catching a flight back to Phoenix so that Caroline could go directly to work.

Hawaii – Day 11

Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

That’s funny it doesn’t look or smell like Sunday, but it is. Well, if it is Sunday, then that means we have to head into Lihue and leave exploring Kahili Mountain for another day.

Hey, this isn’t the road to Lihue, and there’s no way we’ll be buying a Poke bento this early. Ah, we are just sightseeing before we get to our regularly scheduled activities. Wait a minute, we don’t have a schedule! Well, then, without anywhere we really need to be, I guess another drive up and down the tree tunnel is warranted.

Once back on the main road, we made it over to Lihue for breakfast at the Tip Top Motel Cafe And Bakery that’s been feeding islanders and visitors for nearly 100 years. The place is highly rated among locals, and we now understand why. It was packed and noisy, but all the same, we were seated pretty quickly. Our orders were taken within minutes, and coffee was delivered before we saw the menu, which was already at the table. Ten minutes later, my Moco Loco arrived, and Caroline’s banana pineapple pancakes with guava pineapple compote were placed in front of her. If we weren’t suffering from a wicked addiction to the Koloa Fish Market, we’d be wise upon a return visit to eat breakfast here every day.

We are on our way north, heading to Hanalei, as Caroline needs to exchange some ukulele sheet music that was misprinted. You can bet it will not be a direct out-and-back journey, as this beach stop attests. Which beach is this, you might ask? Who cares? It’s a beach on Kauai, and we were so rude as to carve our names into the sand, letting those who follow know that “We were here.”

Roadside, fresh, chilled coconuts sounded like a great idea, and with nothing stopping us from indulgence, we obliged our hedonistic sides and packed in some more calories.

Another reason to snack has presented itself with the Anahola Farmer’s Market. That’s right, you read it correctly, they are selling apple bananas, and we are buying them because one can never eat enough apple bananas when in Hawaii. As for that sample of BBQ pork, I tried that morphed into a plate to go; we’ll just call that “breakfast dessert.”

There is no pineapple such as these on the mainland of America. These giant, ripe, and incredibly sweet, perfect pineapples are unique to Hawaii. We may eat this later today, tomorrow with breakfast, or on Christmas morning before we board our flight back to Arizona. The cold reality that we are down to our last 48 hours in Hawaii is better left for dealing with in the minutes before we drop the rental car, for now, we need to return to the exploration of paradise.

Kilauea Point National Wildlife Refuge is a fond, fond memory from our first visit, and with perfect weather, we would be fools not to stop again. That there is a Junior Ranger Program here is an added bonus, and within minutes of arriving Caroline has her booklet and walks along noodling over the questions.

It’s mere minutes later before we see a pod of whales offshore, and while once again we are denied seeing a breaching cetacean, we do get to see plenty of tail fins, spouts, and arching backs.

Can one have a favorite bird? While I certainly have my least favorite bird in city-dwelling pigeons, I probably only know of a fraction of bird species from around our globe, and there are many beautiful specimens, but the albatross certainly holds a special place in my imagination. Just the idea that this bird can fly non-stop around the earth without landing while expending little to no energy is a feat of evolution that boggles my mind. Then consider that we know that they can live up to at least 66 years of age and that once bonded with a mate, they will stay together until the end of their lives. Of course, there are those beautiful eyes they have that I’m too gullible in assigning anthropomorphic qualities to. I’ll just go and blurt it out right here: I love the albatross.

Check out the nene, also spelled nēnē, otherwise known as the Hawaiian goose. This native of Hawaii is only found on the islands out here in the Pacific and is speculated to have arrived on the islands when they were blown off course at some time in the past. They are friendly, curious birds with a unique soft call compared to the harsh sound of the common goose.

The Kilauea Point Lighthouse could not stand out in greater contrast to the blue sky, deep blue water, and greenery out here on this spit of land.

The sky is also full of frigate birds, and while a little bit buzzardly looking, they are graceful and draw my admiration for their ability to live free, fly around, and not be subject to the arbitrary laws and whims of power-hungry bird enforcers.

I don’t really care if they are red-footed or blue-footed because this bird has the word booby in it. Yeah, buddy, this is the red-footed booby. I tried a good two or three minutes to get a pair of boobies in my shot, but all I got was this bird in front of the ocean. I’ll be looking for a pair of boobies to photograph and will get back to you, the reader, should I see them.

The ocean churns hard around Kilauea Point, and at times, we watched waves break on a cliffside, sending its waters a good 80 feet straight up. With birds, dolphins, whales, a lighthouse, and perfect weather all around us, it is hard to figure out what to give our full attention to.

You should know just how badly I want to reach out and feel how soft those feathers are around the nene’s neck. These official State Birds of Hawaii are protected and endangered and so even if my judgment is occasionally poor, I will respect the request not to interfere with these gorgeous birds.

The other day, when we were up and purchased the ukulele, the sky was overcast, and this overlook of the Hanalei National Wildlife Refuge was jam-packed with others who had the same idea of snapping this image. This spot on Kauai is probably the second most famous after the Napali Coast and is certainly an iconic location. Down below are paddies with taro plants, which are essential to the Native Hawaiian diet of both poi and lau lau.

Here’s the view from below the overlook of those plots of taro. The last time we were here, we didn’t make time to follow the narrow road that was more of a wide sidewalk leading into the refuge; today, we did. The road might go for a couple of miles, but it was hard to tell, considering how slow we were traveling. There are thickets of bamboo, a couple of homes, a trail we won’t take this visit, and a slow-moving waterway that is the likely source of irrigation of all this taro.

Over at Hanalei Strings, we learn that there are no refunds, only exchanges. That was okay as Caroline opted to leave with more yarn; as I went to pay for the difference, the guy waved it off, saying it was for the trouble of driving back up, like driving around a Hawaiian island is a hassle or something.

The next stop was at Tahiti Nui. Why Tahiti Nui? Because Caroline, prior to leaving for Hawaii, let it be known that she wanted umbrella drinks on this excursion, and the other day at the Limahuli Garden a lady told us of a particularly nice dive bar. While it was specifically described as a dive bar, we were reassured that it was a great dive bar. While I, being the teetotaler, opted for Julia’s Iced Tea, which was a mix of iced tea, lemonade, and guava juice, Caroline “started” with their famous Mai Tai. Sitting there, taking in the sights of bar culture, we couldn’t help but do some noshing until Caroline decided on her second drink, a lilikoi margarita. With the umbrella drinks checked off the to-do list, one of us walks back to the car, and the other weaves.

A small apparently little-used road led us to a small cove. There are no facilities, no lifeguards, and apparently, clothes are optional.

When we were finally ready to leave that isolated spot of tranquility, the clouds were moving in, suggesting that another spectacular sunset was being scratched off the itinerary. Over to Starbucks, we went and with coffee in hand, we walked around. Wouldn’t you know it, there’s a man talking to a woman while holding a piglet. Turns out the woman is his girlfriend who works in the shop; we volunteer that we are certified expert piglet caregivers and would gladly watch his new pet while he properly visits with his girlfriend. So here we are, just hanging out in Kapaa, drinking coffee and chilling with a piglet cradled in my wife’s arms because that’s how we roll when on the isle of Kauai.

Sadly, the owner came back for his little black pig, which was okay as I would have had no idea how we’d ever get it on a plane to Arizona. Before returning to the cabin, we stopped at Walmart which turns out to be the best place for cheap souvenirs to drag back to coworkers in Caroline’s office. For our friend Rainy, we found some Hello Kitty pineapple-flavored marshmallows.

We packed up a day early so our last night would be as stress-free as possible. I headed to the shower outside, and Caroline pulled up the ukulele and tried playing. I say she “tried” playing because she’d chosen to try Aloha Oe, and in between the tears, she would have to stop and catch her breath. I listened to her through the walls and couldn’t help but feel teary-eyed with her as her romantic notions were affecting both of us.

Hawaii – Day 4

Up with an alarm and gone from the North Shore by 6:15 as we were heading back towards Honolulu for an 8:30 reservation. Should have visited Kalaupapa National Historic Park on Molokai back when we visited that island in 2006; then, after today, we would have visited all of the major National Parks in the Hawaiian islands. We are going to Pearl Harbor which is referred to officially as the World War II Valor in the Pacific National Monument. I suppose it’s okay that there are things that will be left undone out here in the middle of the Pacific that can draw us back for a third visit. So besides the former leper colony on Molokai, we still have to visit Lanai, hike the Kalalau Trail on the Napali Coast, swim with sea turtles (not really all that important), and go to an official luau at a resort – never mind, there is NO way we will ever do that – EVER!

Before venturing further, Caroline has to stop at the information desk to collect her Junior Ranger booklet and get busy identifying what she needs to accomplish to be sworn in later as a Junior Ranger.

The USS Arizona, a pre-World War I “super-dreadnought” battleship destroyed during World War II, is the main attraction here at the memorial. At the time the ship was built, Arizona had just become the 48th state of America, hence the commemoration.

As anyone who is interested in visiting Pearl Harbor already likely knows, there’s a short naval boat ride out to the USS Arizona Memorial and the most iconic site here.

Almost 71 years to the day after the Japanese bombed this port and sank the USS Arizona, the oil still leaking from below is evident. In contrast to the tragedy, it is quite beautiful on the surface of the water.

Fortunately, the visitors to this solemn place are acting accordingly and showing the respect that should always be afforded to locations where an act of barbarism took so many lives. This sense of physical presence of the tragedy is reminiscent of feelings had while visiting Dachau, Manzanar Japanese Internment Camp, Custer’s Last Stand, Gettysburg, and the Eastern State Penitentiary in Philadelphia.

Usually, the place of a human death doesn’t immediately become a memorial. The evidence is removed from the place where it happened, as human remains are taken to a cemetery or to cremation. Here, we must confront that the rusting hulk of a vessel just below us still holds the remains of over 950 soldiers who died aboard this craft. They were not able to be brought by a family member to a proper resting place, but then again, what is more appropriate than using the site of a grievous act of war as a reminder of our transgressions that take so many lives?

A place of contrasts where the beauty of Hawaii is also the site of the beginning of America’s entering World War II, a harbor where the tropical setting of palm trees and the ocean is also the setting for a mass grave, where dark clouds loom over paradise.

We see so little of the battleship standing out of the water, it’s difficult to imagine that there is so much ship just below us, but this model demonstrates the scale of what is just out of sight.

The museum back on the mainland has a great exhibit that goes into the details surrounding that fateful day. This piece of heavy steel shows what the force of the bombs was doing as they unceremoniously shredded into reality and tore at the fabric of our sense of peace.

Like all National Park facilities, there’s a Junior Ranger program for those interested in learning more about the history and importance of a location while gaining a better understanding of being a steward of America’s most important lands and facilities. Caroline is collecting yet another nearly perfect score as she does her best in our rather brief visits to finish not just the requirements for becoming a Junior Ranger but to do all of the exercises and learn just a little bit more.

We left Pearl Harbor now hungry as our breakfast of bananas and pineapple was wearing thin. I’d already scoped that the Highway Inn might be a lunchtime winner, so we headed over to Waipahu and, in an unassuming strip mall, started our wait. Twenty minutes later, we had a small table and were trying to figure out what to eat. Considering this might be the first and last chance to ever visit this eatery, we got indulgent and started with an appetizer of Kahlua pork and purple yam in a quesadilla topped with mango salsa. Already, the meal was super yum squared. Next up was the laulau combo with pork and a side of squid lū’au. Determined to gain a wide sampling of their dishes, we ordered some of the made-to-order tako poke. In case you don’t know, or if Caroline is reading this to me when I’m old and in the throes of dementia, tako is the Japanese word for octopus. This dish is served with a creamy wasabi sauce, onion, and ginger miso, and it alone should have qualified the Highway Inn as great, but there was more. Haupia, oh my god, this was the greatest haupia we’ve yet had! And while it is just coconut pudding, it was the best coconut pudding.

Seeing that we were already in the Honolulu area, we decided to head over to the Bishop Museum, where Hawaiian and Polynesian history is on display. Our introduction to the facility was right here in the main hall and while difficult to see down on the ground floor, there was a men’s choir singing Hawaiian songs and lending a terrific start to our visit.

Our brief concert was followed by this gentleman giving a talk about clothing and feathers of which the exact details escape me as I’m trying to write about the day.

Along the way, we encounter a story that speculates that it may have been a group of people from Southeast China that had ventured away from the mainland and went on to discover and populate the Polynesian Islands before embarking on the journey over the ocean to populate the Hawaiian Islands. Funny how, growing up in America, I learned nearly nothing about the rich history of anyone else on Earth other than those we conquered.

Stone and wood tools were common in Hawaii, as there were no early steelworks. Wood has a difficult time surviving the centuries, but there are plenty of stone artifacts here at the Bishop. This particular tool was used for mashing foodstuffs, particularly taro, for the making of poi.

This urn with embedded human teeth is so interesting that I wish I’d photographed the card that explained its utility or symbolic meaning. So without that, I can only present you with an urn of teeth, not something I’ve ever seen in another museum or at any friend’s house.

Weavings in the form of mats, basketry, and cloth are represented well in the museum with great examples.

This is Kapa, as it is known in Hawaii; in the broader Pacific Islands, it is more widely known as tapa. Tapa, depending on how it’s prepared, can act as a cloth or be used as paper. It is often made of mulberry or breadfruit bark and was a common form of clothing before the introduction of cotton.

Lei Niho Palaoa, which is Hawaiian for a necklace of hair and whale ivory, is on display here. The hair was from a person of nobility and was diligently collected because it was thought to contain the power or “Mana” of the person it had belonged to. Interesting to see this mythology that there was strength and power represented by hair stretching from the Middle East to Native Americans to Polynesian culture, and it makes me wonder if the modern-day habit of keeping one’s hair cropped short and beard shaved clean isn’t a form of disempowerment.

The Ahu ʻula is a feathered cape made of hundreds of thousands of feathers that were delicately harvested a few at a time from living birds who were then set free to continue producing these valuable feathers. Why were they so important to early Hawaiians? Because the Ahu ʻula was worn by people of great power to provide spiritual protection. Seeing these in person is nearly as extraordinary as seeing the Grand Canyon with one’s own eyes; they are spectacular, profound even.

Masks of tattooed wooden figures are common among the Pacific Islanders, and as part of the culture and tradition of these areas, they are featured in the museum to help tell the story of customs and art shared across such a vast region.

So, while we are a bit gun-shy and apprehensive about the tourist zones of Honolulu, Waikiki, and Diamond Head, we slowly warm up to their appeal, but probably more due to our interest in the history of Hawaii found here rather than the consumer and tourist culture. While still in the area with time to spare, we’ll continue on our exploration that started today in the southwest and trek up the western shore of O’ahu.

Our destination up Highway 93 is Kaʻena Point State Park. Wouldn’t you just know it, the side of the island that is a predominantly indigenous area would be the desert side?

Compared to the North Shore, the ocean here is calm, with almost no surf.

With about two hours of driving to return to our lodging at Turtle Bay, we scope the area here on the western shore and quickly turn around to head back. On the other side of the island, we encounter a steady rain that is dimming our hopes for another spectacular sunset. No big deal, really, as we are having a perfect time with whatever comes our way. After a mediocre dinner, we arrived again at the hotel to a blustery, occasionally rainy evening that suggested we head to sleep early. But who goes to sleep at 9:00 p.m.? Old people, that’s who, are we old now? Maybe it’s that we’ve been going for over 15 constant hours? Nah, we’re just getting old.

Oregon Coast – Day 7

Entering Ecola State Park in Oregon

This is our version of Black Friday. A misty day with a drive in the forest, that sounds about right. No crowds of hysterical people fighting over discounted stuff for us, nope, just the serenity of the woods. While we had opted not to stay overnight in Ecola State Park, which worked out because it turned out that we couldn’t have, we were still curious about what the park looked like. Well, this is perfect; we love ferns, wet plants, heavy bark, moss, red leaves, and spiders. I am so happy most everyone else would rather be at Best Buy or Walmart today; lucky them.

Moss covered trees in Ecola State Park in Oregon

Before entering the park, a sign called our attention to Mo’s Seafood Restaurant in Cannon Beach. Hot chowder sounded good, but they don’t open until 11:00 so we are here in the park instead; eye dessert before soul food never hurt anyway. The rain starts to come down harder and we’re feeling too lazy to don rain gear, so we restrict our tour of the park to the car. No matter because we are distracted by thoughts of steamy hot clams and coffee.

Ferns at Ecola State Park in Oregon

After leaving the park, we returned to Mo’s for a big bowl of Slumgullion – clam chowder with bay shrimp. This is the first time we’ve visited this location in Cannon Beach; normally, we stop at their original location in Newport overlooking the bay. It’s great here as we are right on the beach, and the chowder does just what it’s supposed to do: warming our insides.

Entering Fort Clatsop in northern Oregon

The turn-off to Fort Clatsop National Historical Park talks to Caroline and her collection of Junior Ranger badges, “This is the opportunity for another.” Of course, we’ll stop in the rain. It doesn’t matter how many other times we’ve been here, I’m certain it’ll be wonderful again. In front of the park ranger, my wife turns into an age-appropriate kid to ask for a Junior Ranger booklet. Bouncing up and down with her broad smile, she nearly pleads with the ranger, “No, really, I’m a 12-year-old at heart; let me do it, please, please, please – pretty please!”

On the grounds at Fort Clatsop in Oregon

The ranger hands over the booklet, and she’s off like a kid at Christmas about to open a present. With rain jackets and a loaned umbrella, we go down the trail into the dripping wet forest where Lewis & Clark wintered over, following their historic journey to this point near the end of the Columbia River and what is now called Lewis and Clark River. Along the way, Caroline has to identify a bunch of plants, describe them, and draw pictures of their primary characteristics. At the recreation of the fort, she sits down out of the rain in one of the rooms to compose a poem as one of the exercises.

Inside the replica of Fort Clatsop in Oregon

The now-famous location where my wife composed the poem earned her a coveted Junior Ranger badge.

A dugout at Fort Clatsop National Historical Park in Oregon

Back into the rain and over to the river, we walked for a return visit celebrating one we made many years ago. The remaining Junior Ranger test takes place in the museum where we were headed after this visit to the shore and this replica dugout, similar to one Lewis and Clark might have used.

Caroline Wise being sworn in as a Junior Ranger at Fort Clatsop National Historical Park in Oregon

I already gave away the surprise that once again, and probably for about the 25th time, Caroline is being sworn in as a Junior Ranger. Now officially badged as an officer at Fort Clatsop, she will have to meet her obligations and oath to protect yet another park and help educate visitors to be responsible. With the badge, patch, and certificate of accomplishment, we are off to celebrate with a cup of coffee from Dutch Brothers – yum. We make a note as we pass through Astoria to come back for a visit to the Columbia River Maritime Museum; seems like we can never do it all. It rains all the way back to Portland. After checking in at the Rodeway Inn near the airport, we go on the hunt for the Acropolis – a Steak and Tile joint, Caroline’s first. Her impression of having poontang flashed before her was: meh.

The next day, we had enough time to visit downtown Portland for a return to Powell’s City of Books and something to eat at Food Truck Square. Snarfed down some grilled cheese sandwiches, a chunky monkey Belgian waffle, an order of poutine, and six and a half hours of scouring shelves at the bookstore. A perfect end to our Thanksgiving trip to Oregon. Oh yeah, after leaving Powell’s, we went one more time over to the food trucks for a yummy pork belly sandwich from the same guy who makes poutine; check him out at Sideshow Eatery.

Forgotten Washington – Day 4

Disclaimer: This post is one of those that ended up being written years after the experience was had. Sadly, there were no notes taken so whatever is shared here must be extracted from the images and what memories they may have lent us. Fortunately, there was an itinerary still in my directory of travel plans, so that will help with some details. As to why this wasn’t noted or blogged about, I was in the throes of writing/editing my book Stay In The Magic and felt that any other deep writing would derail that fragile effort.

The momentum of having completed some rudimentary narrative for the previous three days has me wanting to continue and get the last two days of this trip knocked out, but I’m sitting in a coffee shop this summer afternoon in 2021, and I’m falling flat. Sure, the photo of the low sun in the fog looks dramatic, but I’ve got nothing good in my head about this day. Maybe due to the tension that was about to boil over today, I purged this part of the trip as much as possible as it turned out in some ways not to be ours.

Our friend Kirk apparently had developed a crush on Rainy, and being as smitten as he was, he went overboard, making himself the center of attention to the point of being overbearing. By the time I had to let him know that Caroline and I needed some “us” time up in the mountains of Olympic National Park, I’d already been smoldering that he was hijacking our vacation instead of sharing it. The dumb thing about this situation is that we’d do the exact same thing later in the year when we’d invite someone else named Caroline to join us in Oregon, where we’d learn that we didn’t want to travel with her either. The trouble there was that she was scheduled to join us on the Alsek River up in Canada and Alaska the following summer. I’m yet to blog about the Oregon trip but I’m pretty sure it’ll be relatively easy to push her to the side as I did with the blog post about the Alsek.

Just give us some nature, wildlife, coast, some small restaurants, a coffee or two, and each other’s hand, and Caroline and I can be perfectly content to walk through our world. Our sympathy for those who don’t vacation as much as we do but voice envy about our privilege needs to be limited as the difficulty of meeting their ideas for lodging, food, waking, sleeping, walking, and quiet are not compatible with John and Caroline Wise. I should make one exception as we have always enjoyed traveling with my mother-in-law Jutta, well, except those times when I get cranky but seriously, our time spent with Caroline’s mother has been terrific over and over.

The forest doesn’t perform for us; it doesn’t try to make us laugh or demand that we look at it. It’s just a forest that does what it does and probably does it better when humans are not around. It’s our good fortune to be able to visit such places where serenity can be experienced.

What’s the difference between this image of the sun whispering to us through the fog while silhouettes of trees act as columns holding up the sky to a cathedral where the sun streams through stained glass and we stand before such a sight as us worshippers kneeling in the nave before the beauty surrounding us? To answer this, I’d have to suppose that humanity has forgotten how to be smitten by the natural world and has even grown numb to the artifice found all around them in their world of contrivances.

Nothing needs to be done to this piece of driftwood to make it more dramatic or give it greater utility; it is perfect and beautiful.

The layers! Caroline will know what I meant.

Some random spider spent the energy and time to construct and likely repair this beautiful web full of morning dew. The temporary nature of webs is like friendships: they are constructed in relative haste, serve a short-term purpose, and then fade unless constant attention is given to them. But even the spider finds it more effective to simply take the hour and spin a new one the next day. I wish I had the wisdom of spiders.

Here I am in 2021, assembling this blog post, and I could have made my life easier by leaving out the redundant images that are iterations of dozens of others that effectively show the same thing. But my desire to refresh my memories with distant fragments of things seen with these eyes is insatiable even though at this point where thousands of blog posts and possibly 10’s of thousands of images have been shared, it will be difficult to review them all in my remaining lifetime. But still, I enjoy knowing that I could stumble upon them in the future, and they’ll bring a smile to my face, or I’ll discover a detail I missed before.

This brave deer stood motionless looking at the human standing motionless staring at it. Maybe we were both incredulous that the other creature seemed safe enough for this moment that we could stop and dwell in consideration of what the other was thinking. Strangely enough, there were two other encounters with deer today, at least as far as photographic proof is concerned.

Even when alone with our thoughts in places such as this, while Caroline and I can be aware of our togetherness, we can still find those quiet moments of aloneness where we are here with the mushrooms, newts, moss, ferns, birds, and fog.

Instead of acting as prisms to see the details of the leaf or surrounding forest, it appears that the water droplets are acting as mirrors of the foggy sky overhead, and so they have taken on this silvery appearance. What the truth is doesn’t matter, as the only important thing is that the droplets are enchanting.

Oh yeah, I just posted that other trail photo with Caroline walking; oh well, I have a soft spot for these scenes.

Kirk and I met back in 1995 when I was opening an internet cafe, he worked as a cook in the kitchen, and you can rest assured that he’s a dick.

I would have never guessed that we’d see Mt. Rainier three days in a row, and this time from our ascent into Olympic National Park, over 100 miles away from that majestic mountain.

Mount Olympus as seen from Hurricane Ridge.

Flowers as seen by humans.

Humans as recorded by electronics after being illuminated by photons.

Ptarmigan a.k.a. grouse seen in Olympic National Park.

This was the only real reason for our trip to Washington this summer; Caroline wanted her Junior Ranger Badges from Mt. Rainier and Olympic National Parks.

On our way out to the northwestern edge of the continental United States.

Seriously, I don’t really know what I can say about driftwood covered in moss in front of the blue waters of this lake other than it’s kind of sexy.

The spots of sunlight were all I needed to find this magical.

Caroline and I first visited this tiny corner of the earth back in 2002, and so it was only nine years later when we returned, but as I write this, it’s now been ten years since that visit in 2011. No matter, really, as I never dreamt we’d go two times, so missing a third is not a disappointment.

I’d like to tell you that I photographed Caroline standing back there years ago, but as I studied the image of her on a similar bend in the boardwalk, I came to the conclusion that it is not the same spot.

Tatoosh Island and the Cape Flattery Lighthouse.

Can’t go any further down here at the cliffside where America falls into the ocean.

The last time we were in Neah Bay, we got an earful about the desperate economic situation of the indigenous Makah people. While we visited the small museum here in town before we ventured out to Cape Flattery today, it just didn’t feel like enough, so we took up a table at a bayside restaurant to try and offer just a little more support of the Makah Tribe. Thirty years after I really started becoming aware of the plight of America’s original population, I still can’t help but feel repulsion at how ineffective the dominant culture has been in supporting people outside the narrow definition of who is considered the real American.