#7 - Road Trip pt. 2
Folks seemed to enjoy my last batch of stories, so I thought I'd continue on. Big thanks to everyone who reached out! You all know how to make a guy feel pretty good about himself. Shall we?
Crater Lake (Lodge)
For those who don't know, Crater Lake National Park is located in southwest Oregon. Essentially, it's a once-active volcano that's now filled with water. In the middle of the lake, there's a small island - another volcano beginning to form. Apparently, there's another even smaller lake inside that volcano. Oh, and the island is called Wizard Island. So now, I can truthfully say that I didn't get to visit Wizard Island, but I did hike up the volcano that surrounds it. A first for me, if you can believe that.
At this point on the trip, breakfast (or at least coffee) had become a necessary part of our morning ritual. The Crater Lake Lodge is a gorgeous hotel complete with a restaurant, right on the edge of the volcano. Perfect, right? We're seated, and the waitress takes our orders. I only wanted something small - and this place isn't cheap - so I got oatmeal. Everyone else's food arrived first - pancakes garnished with fruits and powdered sugar, omelets about to burst from their filling, so on and so on. Then I saw my breakfast. Imagine, if you will, a combination of dirty sand and tap water. Now imagine a tiny bowl of raisins on the side, as if that were some sort of saving grace. I choked about half of it down.
I don't mean to knock Crater Lake Lodge. I just ordered the wrong thing. None of my friends let me live it down for the rest of the trip: "Are you sure you don't want oatmeal?"
Wine and Goats
Chase's father insisted that we spend a day in Mendocino, California. We spent that whole day going to wine tastings, and then spent the evening on the beach. Good one, Chris.
For reasons that are too boring to write down, I'm not drinking alcohol these days. We did two tastings that day, and I only participated in the first. Considering that it was the most I'd drank since last October, and that it was about 11:00 am, I decided I should sit out the next one. While the other four enjoyed themselves inside, I tooled around by myself behind the building.
I should mention: this winery (I can't remember the name) also made their own cheese. Left to my own devices, I noticed a dirt road leading to some barns. And about halfway down the path: a fence with an open gate. What would you have done?
I made friends with some very talkative goats, and spent a little time with a very old and tired golden retriever. Feeling that my human friends might be waiting for me, I decided to head back. The once-open gate was now closed. I climbed over it - just as gracefully as you'd like to imagine - and then noticed the sign that read "EMPLOYEES ONLY NO TRESPASSING." Whoops.
The Cure for Snores
When you spend a month sleeping next to someone (or four someones) you manage to learn a lot about them. Most of our crew, I learned, snores. It wasn't always clear who was doing the snoring, but it was clearly always coming from inside our tent.
One night, a member of our party was snoring particularly emphatically. I was restless and tired. Out of frustration, I sat up and loudly exclaimed, "Dude!" In hindsight, that probably wasn't the most eloquent way to phrase my argument. But, somehow, the snoring stopped immediately. After some giggles of joy and surprise, I quickly fell asleep. You might call it coincidence, but I call it the Universal Cure for Snores (UCS).
Popping the Question
Our campground by the Great Sand Dunes was way out in the boonies of Colorado. We almost ran out of gas on the way, actually. The last two miles of the drive were on a winding gravel road going up a small mountain. This was - in a word - stressful. Our car was filled to the brim with supplies and bodies, and was not entirely equipped for such terrain. There was also some debate about our destination: Was there really a campground at the end of this road? Did the road even have an end?
After what felt like minutes (a lot of them), another car came down the road. Thank god. We can ask them. Chase slowed down and rolled down his window. The other car did the same. The occupants all looked about 16 years old. Their driver spoke first.
"You got bud???"
"... No. Is there a campground up here?"
"Uh... he fell."
"Ok. Is there a campground up there?"
"Yeah, I think so."
And on we went. In the end, we did find the campground. But we never learned if they found bud.
Sunscreen Time
On our way to the Grand Canyon (you've heard of it), more than one person we met referred to it as "a killer." As if it wasn't already intimidating enough. It was a hot day, about 90 degrees. On top of that, this was our first hike that started downhill. When your hike starts uphill, you know the second half of your journey will be easier. This was the opposite.
We made a lot of stops along the way, for water, protein bars, and shade. At one stop, a family with two young kids walked by. The mom noticed Chase applying sunscreen and said affectionately, "Sunscreen time!" You know, like a mom. Chase responded proudly, "Hell yeah!" The kids didn't seem to hear, but their mother shot him a dirty look as she passed. I suggested that Chase follow the family back down, so he could teach the kids some more words. He didn't seem interested. Oh well.
Haunted Redwoods
One of our major stops was Redwood National Forest. This was for the obvious reasons, but also because Redwood is home to the world's tallest living tree. Even better: that tree's name is Hyperion. I hope you read that in the right tone of voice. We just weren't going to miss anything with a name like that.
The forest was gorgeous, of course. The trees seemed impossibly tall and wide, and the sky was almost completely covered with foliage. At the point on the path furthest from the entrance, we heard a loud crash behind us. A tree falling, maybe? We all looked, but none of us could tell what the source was. We continued forward. Then, we heard the creeeeeeeeak of a door being opened. Honest - my first thought when I heard this was "Ok, a witch who lives in this forest just opened her front door." Bone-chilling, I tell you. Raven theorized that this was actually the sound of old trees swaying in the wind. Nope. It was a witch. I've seen enough movies to know witches from trees.
That's all I got, folks. I do have a few more stories from the trip, but none of them would work as well written down. Just ask me in person sometime. Thanks for reading!
Crater Lake (Lodge)
For those who don't know, Crater Lake National Park is located in southwest Oregon. Essentially, it's a once-active volcano that's now filled with water. In the middle of the lake, there's a small island - another volcano beginning to form. Apparently, there's another even smaller lake inside that volcano. Oh, and the island is called Wizard Island. So now, I can truthfully say that I didn't get to visit Wizard Island, but I did hike up the volcano that surrounds it. A first for me, if you can believe that.
At this point on the trip, breakfast (or at least coffee) had become a necessary part of our morning ritual. The Crater Lake Lodge is a gorgeous hotel complete with a restaurant, right on the edge of the volcano. Perfect, right? We're seated, and the waitress takes our orders. I only wanted something small - and this place isn't cheap - so I got oatmeal. Everyone else's food arrived first - pancakes garnished with fruits and powdered sugar, omelets about to burst from their filling, so on and so on. Then I saw my breakfast. Imagine, if you will, a combination of dirty sand and tap water. Now imagine a tiny bowl of raisins on the side, as if that were some sort of saving grace. I choked about half of it down.
I don't mean to knock Crater Lake Lodge. I just ordered the wrong thing. None of my friends let me live it down for the rest of the trip: "Are you sure you don't want oatmeal?"
Wine and Goats
Chase's father insisted that we spend a day in Mendocino, California. We spent that whole day going to wine tastings, and then spent the evening on the beach. Good one, Chris.
For reasons that are too boring to write down, I'm not drinking alcohol these days. We did two tastings that day, and I only participated in the first. Considering that it was the most I'd drank since last October, and that it was about 11:00 am, I decided I should sit out the next one. While the other four enjoyed themselves inside, I tooled around by myself behind the building.
I should mention: this winery (I can't remember the name) also made their own cheese. Left to my own devices, I noticed a dirt road leading to some barns. And about halfway down the path: a fence with an open gate. What would you have done?
I made friends with some very talkative goats, and spent a little time with a very old and tired golden retriever. Feeling that my human friends might be waiting for me, I decided to head back. The once-open gate was now closed. I climbed over it - just as gracefully as you'd like to imagine - and then noticed the sign that read "EMPLOYEES ONLY NO TRESPASSING." Whoops.
The Cure for Snores
When you spend a month sleeping next to someone (or four someones) you manage to learn a lot about them. Most of our crew, I learned, snores. It wasn't always clear who was doing the snoring, but it was clearly always coming from inside our tent.
One night, a member of our party was snoring particularly emphatically. I was restless and tired. Out of frustration, I sat up and loudly exclaimed, "Dude!" In hindsight, that probably wasn't the most eloquent way to phrase my argument. But, somehow, the snoring stopped immediately. After some giggles of joy and surprise, I quickly fell asleep. You might call it coincidence, but I call it the Universal Cure for Snores (UCS).
Popping the Question
Our campground by the Great Sand Dunes was way out in the boonies of Colorado. We almost ran out of gas on the way, actually. The last two miles of the drive were on a winding gravel road going up a small mountain. This was - in a word - stressful. Our car was filled to the brim with supplies and bodies, and was not entirely equipped for such terrain. There was also some debate about our destination: Was there really a campground at the end of this road? Did the road even have an end?
After what felt like minutes (a lot of them), another car came down the road. Thank god. We can ask them. Chase slowed down and rolled down his window. The other car did the same. The occupants all looked about 16 years old. Their driver spoke first.
"You got bud???"
"... No. Is there a campground up here?"
"Uh... he fell."
"Ok. Is there a campground up there?"
"Yeah, I think so."
And on we went. In the end, we did find the campground. But we never learned if they found bud.
Sunscreen Time
On our way to the Grand Canyon (you've heard of it), more than one person we met referred to it as "a killer." As if it wasn't already intimidating enough. It was a hot day, about 90 degrees. On top of that, this was our first hike that started downhill. When your hike starts uphill, you know the second half of your journey will be easier. This was the opposite.
We made a lot of stops along the way, for water, protein bars, and shade. At one stop, a family with two young kids walked by. The mom noticed Chase applying sunscreen and said affectionately, "Sunscreen time!" You know, like a mom. Chase responded proudly, "Hell yeah!" The kids didn't seem to hear, but their mother shot him a dirty look as she passed. I suggested that Chase follow the family back down, so he could teach the kids some more words. He didn't seem interested. Oh well.
Haunted Redwoods
One of our major stops was Redwood National Forest. This was for the obvious reasons, but also because Redwood is home to the world's tallest living tree. Even better: that tree's name is Hyperion. I hope you read that in the right tone of voice. We just weren't going to miss anything with a name like that.
The forest was gorgeous, of course. The trees seemed impossibly tall and wide, and the sky was almost completely covered with foliage. At the point on the path furthest from the entrance, we heard a loud crash behind us. A tree falling, maybe? We all looked, but none of us could tell what the source was. We continued forward. Then, we heard the creeeeeeeeak of a door being opened. Honest - my first thought when I heard this was "Ok, a witch who lives in this forest just opened her front door." Bone-chilling, I tell you. Raven theorized that this was actually the sound of old trees swaying in the wind. Nope. It was a witch. I've seen enough movies to know witches from trees.
That's all I got, folks. I do have a few more stories from the trip, but none of them would work as well written down. Just ask me in person sometime. Thanks for reading!
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