71 replies to this topic

[mtn-high]

Mark and Edna...

Thanks for sharing your (epicurean) journey!

Edna...do you make fish tacos, my dear? (something tells me, "YES"...and that they would be memorable)

Or...even better...maybe some Juevos Rancheros in camp for breakfast? (green chile on mine, PLEEZ!)

No matter *what's* on the menu, I'm very glad to see you were able to get out and about.

be safe, be well....

mtn

[EdoHart]

Edo,

I'd like to think I'm not like many women out there. I DID the adventure. I survived to tell about it. You should hear and see the squirming I get when I share the adventure.

Part of the fun is telling the story. I'm sure you didn't embellish a little.

<snip>
Step 5
I'm not sure what Edna calls this step, but she basically puts the tortillas right on the burner of the Colman stove, two at a time. Then she flips 'em once, then she picks them up with her fingers, pulls them apart and puts the two burnt sides together and plops the pair back on the burner again. Finally she flips the pair once more to burn the last of the four sides. As you can see, this is pretty serious business...
<snip>

I never thought to heat tortilla's 2 at a time, back to back - that's a great idea. Oh, and they aren't burnt, they're properly heated. I only wish my camp cooking looked (and no doubt, tasted) as good as Edna's. Hmmm, now I'm hungry.

[pods8]

We called davinski and attempted to meet up for a weekend at Rimrock Lake in Washington. We found the lake and drove around for a couple hours (great spot, and humongous) but alas, we never managed to connect with Dave, his brother and friend. Great camping spot, though; we enjoyed ourselves there:

I didn't realize you were making your way all the way over here, looks like you also jumped into Rainier and such as well (I cheated and looked ahead at your gallery), great views. Don't feel bad about not meeting up with davinski, we live about 30mi apart and still haven't managed to meet up.

[davinski]

Pods8

I was a bit disappointed I have not met up with Mark as his wife looks like an excessent chef. What is even more frustrating is when we were to meet up near Ranier, we were just a few miles apart. Had we radios, it would have been a no brainer. Now, since he has a license, we would be able to talk. I know exactly where he camped, as I have boondocked there before.....So close yet so far!!!!

For you, on the otherhand, I don't know what excuse we have.......

Dave

[Mark W. Ingalls]

Mt. Ranier

The next morning we broke camp and headed West to Mt. Ranier NP. There are many, many great pictures of this place, so instead of putting up our merely good ones, I decided to try and show something of the scale of it. I think this is a shot of Mt. Ranier when we first were able to identify it in the distance--



Then we drove awhile until cresting a 'hill' and getting this view--



We drove some more, and saw it again...



On the way, we noticed what we now recognized as an "avalanche chute"...



A few minutes/miles later, we looked down and to our left to see the chute again:



It seems odd now, how the scale of objects in our lives kept changing back then. At this point in the trip we had been living in and around our vehicle for almost two weeks. Our living room was the truck cab. The rest of our home was mounted in the truck bed. We ate, slept, toileted, conversed, sang, prayed, farted, complained... all inside a (moving) eleven foot radius. Meanwhile, distant views rolled past like a movie. The daily scenery, majestic as it was, became background for our new 'normal' inside the truck. Living right at each others' elbows became comfortably *normal*. The space we shared with non-family members became enlarged, while our personal family space became compressed. We were mainly interacting with ourselves. Then, time for us was different somehow than it was for the rest of the world, and different than it is for us now. It was mystical.

As the mountain was growing closer and larger...



...we were growing closer and smaller.

In the final photo we took of Mt. Ranier:



... you can easily see a waterfall in the center of the picture. It is discernible in the previous picture as well, except it is not obviously a waterfall. We knew it was a waterfall because we watched the moving water with our binoculars. So the pictures for us have extra meaning that was inserted after they were taken.

We also knew there must have been people on the mountain. As we drove past the lodge and back down the park road, people were streaming at us from both directions. They were leaving their cars with backpacks, hiking boots, gaiters, and anticipation, and also leaving the slope with similar equipment but different expressions.

We searched and searched but never saw any actual hikers on the mountain. We felt certain they must have been there, only that they were obscured by the immensity of Mt. Ranier.

We were also losing sight of our normal life back home. Our problems, jobs, responsibilities, schedules, friends, escaped our notice. We knew they were all waiting for us, just obscured by the immensity of the trip.

You can calculate that any one day of the loop was less than four percent of the aggregate experience. No single thing we saw during the loop seemed to stand out as "best". It was all just part of our journey together.

When I think what meant most to me, I have to say, "Edna's smile." That was the most important thing. I realized that I really liked being really close to Edna and Robert.

[SunMan]

Mark, Wonderful picsand description of what happens on an extended road trip/vacation. There is nothing quite like completely letting go, actually forgetting what day of the week it is, time passing slowly and days blending together, never in a hurry to be anywhere because you dont have to be anywhere. I often think that it's not until that mindset happens does one truly start to take in all of those small details and the majesty that is before you (wherever you may be), those small details that all too often blow by unoticed. And certainly nothing could be better than sharing it with your loved ones. Thanks.

[pods8]

For you, on the otherhand, I don't know what excuse we have.......

Dave

We'll get there one day!

A few minutes/miles later, we looked down and to our left to see the chute again:



We also knew there must have been people on the mountain. As we drove past the lodge and back down the park road, people were streaming at us from both directions. They were leaving their cars with backpacks, hiking boots, gaiters, and anticipation, and also leaving the slope with similar equipment but different expressions.

We searched and searched but never saw any actual hikers on the mountain. We felt certain they must have been there, only that they were obscured by the immensity of Mt. Ranier.

Actually I'm pretty sure that is just a water shut that gushed during snow melt and heavy rain. (I spent a summer driving just and down the road into paradise a couple times a day, very relaxing).

If you want to see the majority of the people when looking up from paradise and you see that large rock on the left (jilbralter rock, sp?) look on the snow feild just to the right of it (muir snowfeild) you can pick out little figures working their way up/down.

Here's a view from farther up looking down:

[Mark W. Ingalls]

<snip>Actually I'm pretty sure that is just a water shut that gushed during snow melt and heavy rain.

Y'know, pods8, giving wrong information is one of my pet peeves, and if it is the case that the thing I presented as "an avalanche chute" is really just a gully, then I feel bad about that and I'm sorry.

Here is an image I got from Googling, "avalanche chute mt rainier"...


To me, the object I presented looked like the objects in the googled image result, but I am far from an expert.

Meanwhile, can you help identify the location of your really neat photo in the my photo from the road? Edna wants to know where it is located.

[Mark W. Ingalls]

Mt. St. Helens

We had vague ideas of visiting Mt. St. Helens, but after talking with davinski, we decided to definitely go there. Dave's advice was to visit the volcano from the East, instead of going to the official visitor's center on the western side.

Once again, we were impressed by the scale of things as we approached...







...but what as we got closer to "ground zero" we began to realize that our impression was tinged with increasing anxiety. It was like we were in a war zone. The landscape looked like a nuclear bomb had gone off, minus the radiation. Here is a map that will help set the scene.



In the map above, North is oriented to the lower right corner. The road approached from the ENE. The last sentence of the caption reads, "There is a fine line between life and death on the edge of a volcanic blast." We feel this photo shows what they meant:



Here we see trees that survived the blast along with the standing carcasses of those that didn't (the so-called 'snags') and new growth from the 29 years that followed the event. as we drove along, the live trees were replaced by snags and the snags were replaced by blow-downs...



...then fewer snags and more blow-downs...



...and finally just blow-downs...



When we got to ground zero (or as close as the public can get) we saw that the blow-downs were mostly replaced by scars in the hillside made by flying rocks:

[Mark W. Ingalls]

Mt. St. Helens, cont.


Here is a stitched photo of Spirit Lake.



The remains of the still-smoldering Mt. St. Helens...



The damage is still accruing. The road that the Forest Service re-built paved over lots of dead trees covered by rocks, pumice and ash. As the trees rot and the ash washes away, the road keeps developing sink holes that need to be filled.

There's nothing to stop the rain from washing mud and trees right across the road...



...making Edna all the more nervous about being there...



Hours after we had gotten safely away, Edna was still agitated by the experience. She shot this spooky picture:



We felt honored to have witnessed Mt. St. Helen's, but we don't think we'll go back there again soon.