Travel

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Camping on Chincoteague

After more than a year of going basically nowhere, we were all stir-crazy and itching to get out of the house and do basically anything other than hike our local trails (as nice as they are). But I don’t really have the ability to take a weeklong vacation right now – having just started a new job – and there was almost nothing available in the way of beach houses anyway. After spending several hours scrolling Airbnb and VRBO unsuccessfully, I hit on the idea of a camping trip. Even the campgrounds were mostly booked, but I found a KOA with availability on Chincoteague Island, about three-and-a-half hours from D.C., and leapt on it. So in the late morning last Saturday, we shoved off for Chincoteague.

We rolled into Chincoteague around lunchtime and after a quick snack at a waterfront restaurant (crab legs for me – I had to share every other bite with Nugget) we hopped aboard a boat for a tour with Saltwater Pony Tours. It was a magical experience that deserves its own blog post (so that will be next Friday) but – spoiler alert above, we saw the famous ponies and spent more than an hour observing them up close. Totally incredible.

Still reeling from the incredible pony-watching experience, we made our way to the campground and staked out a spot for our tent. I’d booked us one of the “primitive” tent sites, which were already crowded by the time we got there – but we found a little nook near the marsh where no one else had set up. Steve suggested that people might have avoided it on the theory that it would be buggy but after a few layers of bug spray, the mosquitos weren’t too bothersome. And I pointed out that there was standing water all over the campground – there must have been a storm – so if they were avoiding this spot because of fear of bugs, the joke was on them because our site was the driest one I saw all weekend, and it had an amazing view.

The Assateague Island Light, right across the marshy creek!

Dinner the first night was shrimp boil foil packets, which Peanut helped me assemble – followed by s’mores, obviously. The Hershey bars I packed for the purpose had inexplicably melted and turned into liquid goo (how? nothing else melted?) but I rigged up a squirting system and it ended up being kind of amazing. Not that I will be melting all s’mores chocolate going forward.

Home sweet home – from left to right, Peanut’s sleeping bag, Steve’s, mine, Nugget’s. Notes on the sleeping arrangements: Nugget was obviously delighted to have Mommy next to him all night; Peanut brought five stuffed animals; Steve’s air mattress got punctured by a tack that stowed away in Peanut’s backpack (“YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE TACKS!” … “I DIDN’T KNOW, IT WAS STUCK TO MY BOXCAR CHILDREN BOOK!”).

On Sunday morning, after a mostly decent night’s sleep, considering the arrangements, we drank our coffee with a view of the Assateague Light – not too shabby. And then headed out for the one must-do activity of the day…

The beach! We were a ten minute drive from the Assateague Island National Seashore beach. (I had actually wanted to camp on Assateague, but turned my sights to Chincoteague when Assateague was – unsurprisingly – booked solid for the Fourth of July.) But it was a convenient drive and we sailed through the check-in thanks to our America the Beautiful pass (seriously, best purchase).

We were on the sand by 9:00 a.m., which was perfect timing. The beach wasn’t too crowded yet, we got a money parking spot, and it was fairly cool with a refreshing morning breeze. We didn’t plan to get there that early, but after drinking our coffee and having breakfast at the campsite, we figured we might as well go to the beach early since there was nothing else to do – it ended up being totally the right call. (By the time we left at around 1:30, the cars were parked along the road a mile back, and there was a massive line to get into the park.)

It was a gorgeous beach! I grew up going to Cape Hatteras every summer, so I have a deep affection for the National Seashore system as it is, and Assateague was every bit as beautiful as Hatteras.

Assateague National Seashore was a perfect place to spend the Fourth of July – I always want to be around water, but we usually do a lake day. The beach was a fun way to mix it up, and we all had a fabulous time. I showed the kids how to build drip castles (“That looks like poop!” ~Nugget), Steve took a nap in the beach chair, and we spent hours wading in the surf and jumping over the waves.

Perfect!

After we had thoroughly doused ourselves in ocean water, we meandered to a trail with a “pony overlook.” I did see the ponies again, but only through the viewfinder of my gigantic zoom lens, and I couldn’t get a good picture – plus there were armies of mosquitos that were intent on eating us alive, bug spray be damned. (They were near the road heading out of the park, so I got some good pictures on the way out – stay tuned next week.) So we didn’t stay long and headed for the opposite of the National Seashore…

Maui Jack’s Waterpark. Had to happen! It was right at the entrance to the KOA campground, so naturally the kids noticed it immediately. Nugget had a fabulous time – he was too short for the really big waterslides, but he bounced back from that disappointment and did the lazy river three times, got dumped on by the gigantic bucket in the little ones’ area, and hit the smaller waterslides dozens of times. Peanut spent the entire time pouting on a lounge chair; we couldn’t figure out what her problem was. Can’t win ’em all.

Fourth of July dinner at the campsite – campfire nachos for the whole family (delicious, but would have been better if a third of the jar of salsa hadn’t ended up in Nugget’s tummy before I got the chance to put it in the nachos) and hot dogs for the kids, cooked over the fire with their telescoping toasting forks that I bought because I’m a soft touch. And then we crashed pretty much as soon as the sun set, and continued our grand family tradition of somehow missing the fireworks.

On Monday morning, we planned to hike before heading out of town. The idea was to hit the Lighthouse Trail and then the Wildlife Loop on Assateague. Lighthouse Trail first – it was a short hop through the woods to the Assateague Island Light.

The woods were swarming with mosquitos – you could tell they were bad because they were even biting me (and my bitter blood is usually disgusting to insects, it’s a gift). So we didn’t stay long – just long enough for me to snap a couple of pictures, declare “Another lighthouse for Mommy’s collection!” and flee back to the car. No one wanted to do the Wildlife Loop after being eaten alive on the Lighthouse Trail, so we packed it in and headed to the Chincoteague Diner for breakfast, and then home to warm showers.

It was the best kind of weekend, though! Entirely outdoors, mostly unplugged, with some beach and some wildlife and some hiking, and we all ended up exhausted and filthy at the end. Can’t complain about any of that!

How was your Fourth of July?

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Way-Back Wanderlust: A Day in Monet’s Garden

Two things: (1) it’s been a long time since I’ve been anywhere worth writing about, thanks for nothing ‘Rona, and (2) it’s spring and I’m craving color and flowers. So I thought it might be nice to take a few (or ten) turns in the way-back machine and show you snaps from Steve’s and my visit to Claude Monet’s garden, in September 2010 – more than ten years ago now, which seems incredible.

I had wanted to visit Monet’s garden since I was a little girl and read the classic Linnea in Monet’s Garden. When I was a bit older, my school used to take field trips to the Clark Art Institute in Williamstown, Massachusetts; I loved the entire – extensive – collection of French Impressionists, but Monet was my favorite. So when Steve and I planned a trip to France in 2010, I knew that Giverny was a must.

Like most visitors, I imagine, our top priority sight was the famous water lily pond. Living in D.C. by then, I had made many pilgrimages to the water lily paintings in the Smithsonian’s National Gallery.

The iconic bridge!

Although I was most excited to see the water lily pond, I surprised myself by loving the gardens closer to the house even more.

Monet’s pink house with the green shutters, hung all over with ivy, is iconic. (We walked through the house, but photos aren’t allowed inside. No matter – I had no problem blowing up a memory card in the garden.)

I loved the riotous green pathways, leading in every direction, with flowers of every color reaching up for the sunlight.

I had intended to ask my grandmother for a painting of this wheelbarrow, but never did. Maybe I’ll have the photo printed on canvas or wood, instead.

The crowds seemed to all head for the water garden, and we had entire pathways to ourselves, to wander and feel the enchantment of being in the place that so inspired Monet. A few days later, back in Paris, we visited his great masterwork at the Musee de l’Orangerie.

Someday, I hope to find myself back in Giverny. Until then, I’m contenting myself with these photographs from more than a decade ago, and remembering the warm sunshine and the heady aromas of the artist’s garden.

Are you looking back at old vacation photos to cope with COVID wanderlust, too?

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In Which I Am Emphatically Pro-Geotagging

The Great Range, snapped from a viewpoint on Big Slide Mountain, Keene Valley, New York

Warning: soapbox deployed, lengthy diatribe ahead!

I’m a member of a few different paddling interest groups on Facebook.  Kayak Mamas, Women Who Paddle, and Paddling in the Adirondacks.  I love the Paddling in the Adirondacks group for the beautiful pictures the members post, which give me an ADK fix when I’m not able to be in the region.  But lately, the group has been really annoying me.

There’s a subset of members of several of the outdoor groups I follow – Paddling in the Adirondacks being just one of them – who have been clutching their pearls especially tightly of late.  There was already a debate raging in the outdoor community about proper use.  And to a large extent, I’m sympathetic to the pearl-clutchers.  I get as angry as anyone when I see litter, graffiti, or initials carved into trees.  Enjoying an outdoor space in a way that mars it for others, or harms the environment, is selfish and irresponsible.  And as someone who lives in a tourist-heavy region, I understand the frustrations of traffic-clogged roads and out-of-towners behaving cluelessly.  (In D.C., there’s a special scorn reserved for people who stand on the left side of a Metro escalator.)

Kayaks on the beach at Jones Island State Park, Washington

But the pearl-clutching gets overdone in certain areas.  My Paddling in the Adirondacks group has a couple of bugaboos: closeup wildlife shots (don’t post a picture of a loon unless you’re prepared to include in the caption a breathless disclaimer about your long-range zoom lens); people who leave their gear scattered all over the previous night’s campsite (I agree: disgraceful; although I’m not sure it’s always downstaters or out-of-staters, ADK folx); and geotagging.

Mather Gorge, Great Falls Park, McLean, Virginia

So what exactly is geotagging?  Simply put: it’s the practice of including a location on your outdoor social media posts.  (Instagram, Facebook, and I assume other social media outlets – those are the only two I bother with – have location tagging as an option.)  Geotagging has been vilified for a few years now, but the pandemic really threw the debate into sharp relief.  As options for indoor entertainment fell away and more people hit the trails, the rivers, the mountains and the beaches, those who were “here first” (<–LOL, you were not) were incensed at the waves of newcomers, and convinced that the new people are ruining their favorite fresh air sports.

I’ll be the first to admit that I have been frustrated by people not social distancing on trails, and not wearing masks in crowded areas – even outdoors; I care enough about you (perfect stranger) to endure the mild discomfort of wearing a mask, and you should do the same for me.  But at the same time, I am on record as saying that I like to see other people on the trails – it makes me happy to see others experiencing joy in the outdoors, and I am disillusioned enough about politicians to believe that they won’t be motivated to protect a wild space unless they see it is being used and loved by their constituents.

Sunrise over Mirror Lake, Lake Placid, New York

So why chime in now?  I’m at my tipping point after one too many annoying social media posts.  Recently, scrolling Facebook, I was stopped in my tracks by a lovely picture of fall foliage over a serene Adirondack lake.  Enjoying the picture, my smile fell away when I read the smug caption: “If you know where this place is, please keep it a secret!”

I don’t know where that place is.  And I guess I never will, since the author – who I will call Smug Paddler – doesn’t want me or any other unwelcome out-of-staters sullying up his secret paddling spot.  (Another group member offered a guess and Smug Paddler, still smug, responded: “Nope – but I might check that spot out, so thanks!”  So, basically, gatekeeping is for other people.)

And that’s my main issue with the no-geotagging movement: it’s a form of gatekeeping and purity testing, and gatekeeping is inherently elitist and exclusionary.  Oh, and more than that?  It’s racist.

Bears Den Overlook, Bluemont, Virginia

At its most basic: the no-geotag gatekeeping movement is nothing more than a bunch of tone-deaf white people, blind to their own privilege, other-ing “urban” hikers and people of color to keep them from enjoying the same recreation opportunities.  It’s keeping the so-called “wrong sort” of hikers out, so that the “right sort” can have the outdoors all to themselves.  It’s the promotion of the idea that certain people are inherently less deserving of fresh air, a beautiful view, or space on the trail.  And that’s just wrong.

Melanin Base Camp says it much more eloquently than I could:

The #nogeotag movement is a form of gatekeeping, or elitism. It involves individuals—usually those unaffected by structural racism and privileged to have grown up hiking and camping—asserting their self proclaimed authority over who should and shouldn’t be allowed into certain outdoor spaces.

Most of the articles begin with a white writer reminiscing over a much beloved hot spring, a treasured swimming hole or a rustic hiking trail from childhood that has now been “ruined” by a sudden influx of selfie-taking hikers.

They never stop to consider that their childhood was privileged with outdoor experiences not available to the majority of working-class families in the United States. They never stop to consider that this is a privilege many people in the U.S. would like to experience if given the chance. Their lack of self-awareness is pretty stunning.

(By the way, give Melanin Base Camp a follow.  Their Instagram feed is stunning, inspiring, and inclusive.)  The article, which I highly recommend reading in its entirety, lays out all of the problems – and there are many – with gatekeeping and excluding “urban” hikers (read: Black and brown folx), working class families, and people who are new to the outdoors.  It’s a must-read.

In fact, there’s no proof that geotagging social media posts has any effect on overuse of outdoor spaces.  As a like-minded soul helpfully posted in the comments to the obnoxious Facebook post that put me over the edge, the REI blog’s article “Is Photography Ruining the Outdoors?” debunked that notion pretty heartily.  (Using data collected by the Adirondack Council, in a bit of poetic justice for Smug Paddler.)  There’s no evidence supporting that photography (yes, including selfies) and social media sharing are responsible for overuse or improper use of public lands.

The only persuasive argument I’ve seen made against geotagging relates to safety concerns: it’s not wise to broadcast your location to the entire internet, especially when you’re in the backwoods.  I agree.  If we’re friends on social, you’ll notice I don’t geotag all of my posts.  There are certain posts I never tag with a location: my kids’ school and summer camps, for instance.  I do geotag my hikes and paddles, but I don’t post the pictures – or tag the locations – until I’m already back home (or at least in the car, on my way home).  If I’ve posted a picture of an outdoor adventure and tagged the location – especially if it’s wilderness – I’ve already left.  That practice, and keeping my Instagram account private (meaning I have to approve anyone who wants to follow me) is how I address those appropriate concerns about safety, and I’m comfortable with the personal decisions I’ve made in that respect.

Big Meadows, Shenandoah National Park, Luray, Virginia

There are plenty of ways to address overuse and improper use of public lands.  The good and smart folx at Melanin Base Camp suggest several.  More funding for the National Park Service, for instance, and more funding in general for education and outreach.  (Don’t like the way new outdoor adventurers are using public lands?  Educate – politely and respectfully – don’t gatekeep or hector people.  Those of us who choose to eat plant-based can explain how you inspire people to make better choices for the planet, without being a total @$$hole about it.)

While we’re funding NPS, maybe politicians can stop using government shutdowns as a political football, so that parks don’t end up unstaffed and abused.  Those images of Joshua trees cut down and overflowing trash cans at Yosemite were awful.  Keeping people of color out of public lands isn’t going to fix that problem, though.  You know what would?  Responsible government.

Other solutions: education, outreach, permit requirements, promoting alternatives (like state, regional, and local parks, or national forests and recreation areas that don’t get as much attention as the legacy parks).  Working with stakeholders.  Including indigenous groups and First Nations communities, and respecting their cultural and spiritual connections to these places.  (The myth of wildness, which Melanin Base Camp also eloquently debunks, is extremely harmful.  Public lands have not been “wild” for millennia.  They’ve been cultivated and stewarded by indigenous communities and that history deserves recognition.)

Widewater State Park, Widewater, Virginia

Golly.  Can you tell I have some feelings about this?  Clearly that Facebook post touched a nerve.  But honestly?  I’m sick and tired of exclusionary tactics and elitism in the outdoor community.  Of course we should be responsible.  But what gives Smug Paddler the right to declare anyone unwelcome on a public lake?  People protect what they love; that’s well-known.  Doesn’t it serve everyone – and the public lands we claim to care about – if more people love the outdoors and want to protect it from the ravages of climate change?

So I’ll keep geotagging my posts and sharing my outdoor adventure finds.  And if someone finds a new favorite hiking or paddling spot because of me, I’ll be pleased – not incensed.

Where do you fall on the geotagging debate?  Debate welcome, but respectful comments only, please.

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The Great Bass Island Circumnavigation of 2020

Who’s ready for some Adirondack paddling?!  MEEEEEEEEEE.  Y’all know I can’t resist an afternoon on the water – especially via my kayak – and after many days of quarantining at my parents’ house (with my laptop, of course) I was desperately in need of some fresh air and fun.  We were cautious and mindful of the New York State travel advisory, but my parents’ camp is very private, and we were the only ones there, so we figured it still counted as quarantining.  The moment we got there, Nugget started begging me to take him out in the kayak.  You don’t have to ask me twice!  Steve hauled my old Perception kayak (I got it when I was fifteen!) and my parents’ Old Town down to the beach, and my mom dug up the duffing seat out of cobwebs.  I don’t think it had been used in years – since I used to paddle my cousins around.

Skipper Nugget was READY to go.  We let him decide where to paddle, and he said he wanted to paddle across the lake.  That’s 37 miles, so probably not doable in a day.  (Definitely not doable in a recreational kayak with a densely-packed duffer.)  But some additional questioning revealed that he actually wanted to paddle across the bay (whew) to Bass Island.  That, we can do.

We set off across the deepest part of the bay, carefully avoiding motorboats and waterskiers.  Nugget insisted he was having a good time, but later confessed to being scared at first.  Poor little dude!  Once he got into the rhythm, he definitely shook off any fear and started to really have fun.

Approaching the island…

Dad landed first and pulled us ashore.  Nugget immediately hopped out of the boat and set off on a hike into the brush (note: this is a very small island) while Steve and I followed behind him shouting things like “WATCH OUT FOR POISON IVY” (me) and “THERE IS GOOSE POOP LITERALLY EVERYWHERE” (Steve).

Don’t care, Mommy-Daddy!  Explooooooooooooooore!

We hiked through most of the wooded part of the island (it really is small, you guys) and came out on the beach on the other side, then walked around the point and back to our boats.  Where to next, Nugget?

Around the island, Mommy!

Whatever you say, Henry Hudson.

After our circumnavigation of Bass Island (which took less then ten minutes #keepingitreal) Nugget directed us to paddle along the shoreline.  We obediently turned our bows into the bay and paddled the length of the shore.  Nugget shyly waved to some people who were having a party on a pontoon boat, but they didn’t notice his sweet little greeting.  Their loss.

Much better: Nugget directed us into a smaller bay that off-shoots my parents’ bay.  We paddled around in the calm and quiet waters for a bit, and were treated to a fantastic view of a great blue heron – a huge one.  So cool.  After it noticed us and took off flying across the bay, Nugget dictated that it was time to return home, so return home we did.  With sore arms and cores, and big smiles.

Returned with plenty of time left for more swimming and mountain views.  Can’t beat it.

The state of the world being what it is, I don’t know if we will make it back to the lake again this season.  So it felt good to get there once.  Next year, I hope to make up for our relative absence this summer by being up there a lot more – and in some different seasons.  I want Steve and the kids to see the “ring of fire” on Labor Day (when everyone lights bonfires on their beaches and the whole lake glows) and experience the magic of a chilly autumn paddle while the mountains are ablaze with color.  There’s absolutely nothing like it.

Where are you escaping this summer?

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Bluebells on a Battlefield

While we are all holed up at home, spring is springing all over the place!  It’s been raining and gloomy here for most of the past couple of weeks, which has made the social distancing harder to handle – especially with two energetic kids in the house.  By Sunday we all had energy to burn, and even after last week’s crowded trails, we wanted to try hiking again.  I had some good intelligence that the famous Virginia bluebells were blooming, so we decided to check them out.

We normally hike the Bluebell Loop Trail at Bull Run Regional Park.  This year, with the pandemic raging, the park is open for “passive use” only – which means hiking YES, but parking NO.  The parking lots at Bull Run Regional Park were closed, and while parking outside park boundaries and hiking in to the Bluebell Loop Trail is perfectly fine, that would add 2.5 miles each way to our hike – just from the car to the trailhead and back.  Fine for adults-only parties, but when you have two little hikers, you have to maximize every step.  Bull Run Regional Park’s social media team was suggesting other options to folks who didn’t want to park more than two miles from the trailhead, so we decided to try one of the alternatives – Manassas National Battlefield Park.

Civil War buffs, this is the famous Bull Run battlefield.  Steve and I hiked the battlefield itself years ago – pre-small hikers – but had never been to this part of the park.  We made for the Stone Bridge parking area, lured by the promise of bluebells growing on the banks of the legendary Bull Run.

Crossed the bridge over Bull Run and saw…

That famous blue glory all over the forest floor!

We were a bit early – it’s always tough to time peak bloom for any flower show, especially when it’s not a flower that grows in the neighborhood (and can be monitored accordingly).  Local friends – if you want to hit the trail later this week or this coming weekend, I think you’ll be in for a good show.  As for us –

We had plenty of visual treats to enjoy!

The trail was a bit damp, but not too muddy.  Peanut made the best shoe choice, wearing her wellies.  Nugget decided on his Keen hiking boots, which worked well, but didn’t allow for puddle-stomping.

The wildflowers were growing all over the opposite bank of Bull Run, too.

We were careful to take precautions on the trail – we left as early as possible to avoid crowds (even so, there were definitely folks on the trail) and were cautious about touching anything.  We also leapt off the trail to give people distance, and most reciprocated by kindly and responsibly walking all the way on the other side of the wide trail, at least six feet away from us.  With the exception of two women who thoughtlessly breezed down the middle of the trail despite our attempting to give them plenty of space, everyone was responsible and considerate about personal distance.

I wait all year for this fabulous floral spectacle, and it definitely didn’t disappoint.  It was a lot of fun to check out a different spot – while I missed our usual stomp along the Bluebell Loop Trail, mixing it up is good, too.  And there’s a lot to explore out Manassas way – we really should make a point of getting here more often, and checking out some different scenery.

This weekly trail time is keeping my sanity intact – barely!  Missing our annual bluebell hike was unthinkable, so I’m glad we were able to take some precautions and make it happen.

What are your local spring spectacles?

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Twelve Months of Trails: January 2020 – Wilson M. Powell Wildlife Sanctuary, Old Chatham, New York

There’s no better way to start off a new year than a first day hike – wouldn’t you agree?  By New Year’s Day, 2020, we were all a little holiday-ed out and ready for some fresh air and trail time.  In an effort to squeeze in as much upstate New York fun as we could, we were also planning to stop by my high school BFF’s house for a good long visit with her, so we targeted a trail near her home.  After kicking around a few options, we settled on the Wilson M. Powell Wildlife Sanctuary in Old Chatham.

Sharp-eyed readers may recognize pictures of the trail, because we’ve hiked it before – last Thanksgiving, specifically, with my parents.  We thought about checking out a new-to-us trail, but decided on the tried and true.

Pretty quick hike to the overlook, and a minimum of whining – I’ll take it.

This is a good way to start a new year – looking out over a beautiful vista, scheming up plans big and small for the next 365 days.  As I hiked along, I thought about what I want life to look like at this time in 2021.  I have a lot of dreams for this year.

We didn’t linger long at the overlook, because someone (cough cough NUGGET) didn’t want to hold hands with a parent up on the blustery cliff.  That’s a non-starter, so we turned around and headed back downhill (much to his chagrin).  But it was long enough to get in a good gulp of fresh January air and a dose of scenery.

Here we go, 2020 hiking!

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AURORA @ ARTECHOUSE

My good friend (and former work wife) Samantha has been hounding me to check out ARTECHOUSE, an interactive art/tech gallery in DC – there are also locations in New York and Miami – for years now.  Several springs ago, ARTECHOUSE had a cherry blossom art experience, and Sam attended and has not stopped raving about it since.  She promised me that it was the kind of place that the kids would be into, and I promised her I’d look into it.  It took me awhile, but the stars finally aligned and I bought the whole family tickets to the #AURORAinDC experience that was running through the weekend after New Years.

We entered the gallery with a group of other people who had tickets for the same time slot, and everyone immediately spread out to different corners of the room.  It took us a little while to figure out how it all worked, but a helpful gallery employee explained how to “grow” the trees and create the snowflakes, and we all ran around like kids, exploring every nook and cranny of the gallery and creating our own enchanted forest.

I’ll just leave the pictures here for you.

(The kids invented a game called “summon the white stag” that involved placing their hands on the wall and chanting “White Stag.  White Stag.  White Stag.” over and over until a white stag – part of a light show cycle – appeared.  It was cute but also hella creepy.)

It was such a cool experience – I’m so glad we made it to ARTECHOUSE, finally, and now I’m keeping an eye on the website, ready to snatch up tickets again the next time there is an exhibit/experience that looks like something we would all enjoy.  Maybe Sam will join us as tour guide/babysitter.

Have you ever been to an interactive art experience?

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A Black Friday Hike in the Albany Pine Bush

After a long car ride on Wednesday and an indoor, food-filled day on Thanksgiving, several of us were craving outdoor time and fresh air.  I’d been hoping to make a hike happen and was secretly cherishing an ambition to hike Mount Jo, Heart Lake or Indian Head in the Adirondacks, but the long drive up to the mountains wasn’t especially enticing – something closer to my parents’ house sounded much better, and after some discussion we settled on the Pine Bush.

The Pine Bush is a unique ecosystem – one of the few remaining inland pine barrens, with lupine and scrub oak also growing in the sandy soil.  (It’s also the home of the endangered Karner blue butterfly, but I figured I’d be safe from flapping wings in November – and I was.)  We parked near the Discovery Center, spent a bit of time exploring the indoor exhibits, then set off for a quick meander around one of the well-marked trails.

It was just Steve, me, and the little dude this time.  Peanut is the latest victim of the disgusting chest cold that Nugget brought home from school and has been passing around the family, so she stayed home with Nana to rest and recover.  Also – lest you think that all of our family hikes are perfect – you should know that Nugget screamed to be picked up the entire time.  We’ve gotten out of the habit of hiking, thanks to a busy summer and fall, and both kids have started complaining vociferously on the few hikes we have been able to fit in recently.  We ignored him and he finally stopped complaining and just hiked sullenly along with about five minutes left of trail.

The scenery was a good distraction from the caterwauling.  Can you believe this park and preserve is just a stone’s throw away from the largest shopping mall in Albany?  I know.

I was happy to be here, and not there, on Black Friday.  Trails suit me much better than a crowded mall.

Pine Bush, you’re beautiful!  I’ll definitely be back.  Just maybe not in butterfly season.

Did you hike over Thanksgiving weekend?

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PNW Adventure 2019: Icons of Seattle

And now we come to the end.  It happens with every vacation, tragically, and it happened to Steve’s and my great adventure in the Pacific Northwest – time to come home and start thinking about the school year, the holidays, and – eventually – where to go next.  But not just yet.  We had two days in Seattle, and we were determined to fill every moment and to take in as many of the highlights as we could.  Get ready for a monster recap post.

Alaskan Way and the Seattle Aquarium

Starting with – the aquarium!  After a morning navigating the jam-packed Chihuly Garden and Glasshouse and the rest of Seattle Center, Steve suggested we check out the aquarium.  It felt a little weird to visit an aquarium without the kiddos in tow, but I think we were both missing the intertidal zone.  So we headed over to the aquarium, had some delicious veggie chowder in a sourdough bread bowl, and checked out the sea life.

These colors!

Of course, I had to snap a picture of the octopus to send to my sister-in-law Danielle, who loves cephalopods as much as I love cetaceans.  I think she may have been the kraken in a past life.

The highlight of the Seattle Aquarium had to be the sea otters.  They were loafing around, playing, acting generally adorable, and I could have watched them all day.

Outside of the aquarium, Alaskan Way was a sight to see.

We watched people loading onto this gigantic cruise ship for awhile, prompting a spirited debate about whether we would ever go on an Alaskan cruise.  I said, emphatically, YES (although I have reservations about cruises in general, an Alaskan cruise is one of the few I’d make an exception for) and Steve said he didn’t see the point of spending five days at sea looking at nothing when you could fly.  (I have since discovered that Disney Cruise Lines have an Alaskan cruise option that does not include multiple days at sea – it leaves from Vancouver and sails up the coast, so there is always scenery – and while I’m not a Disney fan, the kids are, and one of my sorority sisters just did the Disney Cruise to Alaska with her kids and gave it a rave review, so – stay tuned.  I will continue to press this issue.)

BRING US ALL YOUR MARINE LIFE STREET ART.

ALL YOUR ORCA MURALS.

Pike Place Market

Of course, no visit to Seattle is complete without a stop by the iconic Pike Place Market, right?

Steve and I were kind of still in our “civilization immersion therapy” mode and the crowds were pretty overwhelming.  Steve also was feeling a little iffy, and all the competing aromas of the market were a bit much for him.  But we gamely trotted through the market, snapping pictures.

I wanted to eat all of these berries.

The flower stalls were my favorite.  Look at all these gorgeous peonies!

And everlasting statice, which is one of my favorites.  It’s the kind of flower that Anne Shirley would find friendly – don’t you think?

Naturally, we picked up a few bags of Chukar Cherries to take home with us.  These are long gone – I want more.

And stopped by the gum wall on the way out.  This was kind of gross, but in a really impressive way?  I was impressed by people’s commitment to add their chewed up gum to the wall, even if I couldn’t really breathe near it.

Much more appetizing: we ended Saturday at this romantic table, overlooking Puget Sound, at Place Pigalle.  Fish were flying on the other side of the wall, as we sipped cocktails and wine and ate delicious bouillabaisse and cheese.

Ballard Locks and the Farmers’ Market

On Sunday, we were looking for a good walkable spot to explore, and the internet suggested the Ballard Locks, so we headed over to check them out.

Saw several very impressive yachts cruising through the locks, but far more interesting were the fish ladders.  Go, little fishies, go!

After the locks, we wanted to keep walking, and it was farmers’ market day.  I am always into checking out the farmers’ markets when I travel, and Steve was up for it, so we walked over.  I missed my BFF, Rebecca, who is an avid farmers’ market tourist.

I would have liked to take ALL of these cherries with me.

Steve was still feeling a bit off, so we grabbed some kombucha to settle his stomach (and because I am always up for kombucha), walked around a bit more and then looked for someplace quieter.

Lake Union and the Center for Wooden Boats

Having not had enough boats all week (who am I kidding, I never have enough boats) I suggested that we explore the shoreline of Lake Union for a little while and check out the Center for Wooden Boats.

This motorboat is the dream, right?  Can’t you just see yourself packing a vintage picnic basket full of wine, apples, bread and cheese and gingersnaps, and cruising the lake on a sunny summer’s day?

Indoors, we watched boats being expertly restored and checked out nautical art, like a series of stunning photographs of wooden boats in action, and:

This incredible handmade wooden paddleboard with an orca totem detail and a great backstory.

Gardens and Art

Apparently the weekend was a theme: hitting all of our favorite things, Seattle-style.  Aquarium?  Check.  French food?  Check.  Farmers’ market?  Check.  Industrial architecture?  Check.  Boats?  Check.  Botanic gardens?

Check.

We spent a peaceful hour wandering between the rows at the Volunteer Park Conservatory, then headed back to Puget Sound (yes, if you’re wondering, we did zigzag all over Seattle in our Uber) to check out a sculpture garden.

Oh, Seattle.

We finished Sunday evening at Café Flora, eating a fabulous vegetarian dinner.  Steve had the Italian burger with a side salad, and I had the mushroom wellington – yum.

Whenever I travel to a different city, I wonder what it would be like to live there.  Don’t get me wrong – I love living in Washington, D.C., and I never want to move, not really.  But it was hard not to picture myself wandering all the verdant gardens, hiking the lakeshores, and spotting dorsals in Puget Sound – not to mention nipping up to the San Juans for a weekend getaway.

Thank you for a beautiful trip, PNW.  You’re truly a wonderland and I can see why people love you.  And now – back to reality, on the blog as in life.  And back to planning and scheming the next adventure.  As I hinted, something is already in the works for next summer, but it’s not a done deal yet.  It’s my parents’ 45th wedding anniversary, and they want a family trip.  My mom has floated a destination idea and I was very much on board with it, but others need to sign on.  So – stay tuned.  In the meantime, there will be weekend trips, and maybe some longer getaways sprinkled in.

That concludes the PNW adventure recaps!  I already want to go back.  Right now.

 

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PNW Adventure 2019: Seattle Center Saturday

When Steve and I arrived back in Seattle for the final leg of our trip after a week in the Islands, we were exhausted and pretty grimy.  After checking into our hotel and taking the longest showers ever, we felt like new people, and a night in a cushy hotel bed felt almost too luxurious.  (I didn’t actually sleep very well!  I guess it doesn’t take long to get used to a sleeping bag on the ground, and then a floofy {<–technical term} bed is almost too much.)  Anyway!  We woke up on Saturday morning relatively fresh and ready to reintegrate ourselves into society after a week of remote island camping.

And what’s better for re-integration into civilization than a crowded city attraction?  I wasn’t really in the mood for museums, but I had it in my head to visit the Chihuly Garden and Glasshouse, so that’s what we did.  Turned out, it was located at Seattle Center – home to the famous Space Needle and so many other Seattle attractions – so we headed down there for what we jokingly called our “civilization immersion therapy.”

I was vaguely aware of Dale Chihuly, and he’s such an iconic artist in the PNW, that taking in his work over the course of a morning seemed like just the thing to do.  But I didn’t know what to expect at all – I really wasn’t familiar with his art, although I had the idea I might have seen some of it in Boston once? – and I was blown away by the fanciful glass creations and stunning large-scale installations.

Like the Venetian ceiling – I mean, WOW.  Just… WOW.

I don’t know how much of this splendor really registered with Steve – he is colorblind.  But he was a good sport and let me take all the time I wanted, and I know he appreciated the artistry of the shapes and the fine detail work, even if he couldn’t take in all of the spectacular color.

This wooden canoe, heaped with blown glass balls of all sizes and colors, was my favorite piece in the museum.

A close second was the glasshouse, with its stunning orange and yellow flower installation and views of the Space Needle.

We took our time wandering amid a crowd of what felt like forty million people and gazed in total awe at all of Chihuly’s incredible creations.

I couldn’t stop snapping pictures.  I couldn’t help myself!

After we’d seen everything there was to see inside the art museum and glasshouse, we ventured outside into the gardens.  I remarked to Steve that my mom’s best friend, Denise, would love this place – she has a great love for modern art and has an incredible eye for shape and color.  I was sending her pictures in real time as I clicked and snapped my way through the museum and garden.

Modern art isn’t my thing, at least not quite as much, but one contemporary trend I love is the juxtaposition between bright colors and natural elements.  The Chihuly Garden had that in spades.

After we’d gotten our fill of modern art, we wandered out into the rest of the Seattle Center.  Obviously, we spent plenty of time goggling at the Space Needle.

As we approached International Fountain, grunge music was blasting from an industrial-sized speaker somewhere on the square.  As Steve remarked, it was the most Seattle thing ever.

So were the street murals.  An orca and a cup of coffee.  Y’all, it literally does not get more Seattle than that.  Especially if you are taking it all in to the sounds of Nirvana.

Seattle, I am sort of in love.

Next week: one final vacation recap, in which I attempt to cram all the iconic sights of Seattle into one monster post.