Day 26

Today is Errand Day. We head into Reno - the closest major city to Susanville - to set up a new bank account for Emily, choose a new phone plan for both Kraft sisters, and get a new phone for Laurie. While in town, we also engage our inner glutton at the Atlantis Casino's dinner buffet. Restaurants like this are probably the #1 reason that America is fat, but it's nice to let loose and order multiple helpings of Mongolian barbecue.

Afterward, it's time for Laurie to head back to Phoenix, where she'll celebrate her 21st birthday before meeting up with us again in one week. We drop her off at the airport and start heading back to Susanville, but a fire begins to blaze in the distance, and the smoke drifts into our path like a dust storm. The police eventually close down our road. We're diverted off the highway and onto some back roads that eventually link up with our original route. Emily falls asleep in the front seat, leaving her father and I to talk about music and California for upwards of an hour. Em wakes up as we enter Susanville, smiling sheepishly and wondering where all the flames went.


Mr. Kraft goes to bed early in preparation for his first full day of work since last week. Emily and I spend the rest of our evening watching the "Borat" movie, which is hilarious. High-five!

- Andrew

Day 25

Waking up in a giant Best Western bed is a nice start to any morning. Em and I head back to Mr. Kraft's house, where Laurie makes us yogurt parfaits for breakfast and then whisks Emily away for an early-day dessert at TCBY. I stay behind and look at apartment listings for Ann Arbor. I take a quick break, remember that Emily's birthday is in a few days, and order three tickets for the American Idol concert in Glendale, AZ.

The girls come back toting a bag of my favorite potato chips of all time: Kettle Krinkle Cut, Salt & Fresh Ground Pepper flavor. It's a very happy day all of a sudden, and I forget about my housing trouble. When Mr Kraft returns home after dropping off Aunt Allison at the airport, we pile into the car and head toward Lassen Volcanic National Park to see the patches of snow that still remain from the cold months.

Laurie and Emily are excited about the prospect of seeing snow. I'm excited about doing something that doesn't involve swimming in a pool of mountain ice water.

The park is pretty. Steep drives, geysers, lakes, and mountains are the norm here. We do find snow, but it's much higher up than normal, which means Lassen is getting hotter by the year. Scary. We have an impromptu snowball fight and photo shoot before heading back down to sea level.




On the way back, we grab some food at one of Chuck Norris' local hangouts: the Kopper Kettle. No sight of Chuck tonight, much to Laurie's dismay.

- Andrew

Day 24

We reach Susanville, CA around 2:00 and are greeted by Emily's dad (David), aunt (Allison), and her sister (Laurie). Predictably, there's very little to do in the town itself, so everyone eats a fast lunch before piling into David's car and heading toward the mountains. We're technically driving to Emerald Lake to swim, but Laurie is more excited about one of the small towns we're going to pass through. It's called Chester, and it happens to be Chuck Norris' hometown.

The owner of a local convenience store says she knows where Norris' house is located, but the map she draws for us is pretty poor and we end up getting lost. It is with great reluctance that Laurie allows her Dad to cancel the search for Norris, and we reach Emerald Lake after half an hour. It's a pretty area with crystal clear water and no one else in sight. One problem, though: the water is cold. Like... ludicrously cold.

"This lake was frozen over," notes David, preparing to get in. "Probably just a few weeks ago, in fact." Then he slides into the water, swims a few strokes, and mutters, "Ooh, that's brisk," before swimming out of earshot. Emily, Laurie, and Allison all follow him, leading me to believe that the Kraft family must share a cold-resistant gene or something.

I stay on the shore, my bathing suit on, my teeth chattering. I step into the lake. This is the kind of water that creates icebergs and sinks ships like the Titanic, but I'm really hoping to some in-law points here.

Emily assures me that things get better the more you swim, and she's right. I'm numb after a few minutes, and the lake ends up being sort of refreshing. Afterward, we pass through Chester and eat at Maria's Mexican restaurant, where the waitress does not ask for my ID until I've already consumed the magarita she served me. Weird. Things are crazy in Chuck Norris' hometown.

- Andrew

Day 23

It's drearily foggy when we wake up in Crescent City, but things start to clear as we drive toward the Redwoods National Park. We only have a few hours to spend in the Redwoods before heading toward Emily's dad's place in Susanville, so we drive the length of the park and double back to take a 2-mile hiking trail.

The Redwoods look exactly like the rainforest in "FernGully." Everything is green, mossy, and massive. It's refreshing to take a hike in constant shade, with the canopy of giant trees protecting us from the sun. Also, my skin gets a lucky break from being slathered in SPF 100+, which is nice.

Halfway through, we leave the trail to explore a waterfall. We take turns jumping from rock to rock, being careful not to slip on the moss-covered surfaces. A little while later, I point to a banana slug in the middle of the trail, and Emily picks the little guy up. Banana slugs are the second largest species of the land-based slugs in the world; they're also the official mascot of the University of California at Santa Cruz. Most importantly, they excrete large amounts of slime when confronted by predators, which is what happens when Emily decides to make friends with our sluggish fellow hiker. Seconds after putting the slug in her hand, she exclaims, "Ah! He's goo'ing on me!" and puts the slug back down. A thick, glue-like ooze covers her fingers, and Emily spends the rest of our hike trying to wipe it off on tree trunks, leaves, and stones.

Driving back down the coast, we take a break in Arcata. It's a quirky Cali college town with vegetarian restaurants, record stores, and an impressive amount of marijuana harvesting and consumption. We park beside the town square and spend a few minutes calling local hotels to see if there are any vacancies. In the meantime, several dreadlocked rastafarians wearing backpacks waddle past our car, and the man parked beside us lights a joint before pulling out of his parking spot and driving away. Ballsy.

We eat vegan food at the Wildflower Cafe, stop at a record store to pick up the latest Ryan Adams disc, and start heading east toward Susanville. Emily falls asleep while I play my new CD and negotiate the dizzying roads that wind through the mountains. Susanville is too far away to reach in one night, so we bunk up in Redding.

- Andrew

Day 22

We wake up, pack the car, and tackle the Oregon coast once more. The driving is easier this time; the zig-zagging road has straightened itself out, and we're able to enjoy the ocean views without getting carsick. The Pacific Ocean looks white where it collides with the rocks below.

Bandon, OR is home to something Emily has been awaiting for days now: the West Coast Game Park. After putting on proper shoes (flip-flops aren't good for walking through animal poop), we pay our $8 fee and enter the gates. We're immediately greeted by a group of goats, deer, and donkeys, all of whom are unleashed and free to roam the park. They can smell food, and they know that Emily and I both have cups of animal feed in our hands. I dispense my own food and look over at Emily, whose lower torso is sort of invisible in the sea of mammals surrounding her. "The deer's antlers are fuzzy!" she yells. After her flock is fed, we set off to tour rest of the park.

It's an animal-filled visit. We touch a bear cub as it drains a baby bottle. Emily holds a young fox named Lucy, who nibbles on her fingers (this is Emily's fault -- we were told not to put our hands in the fox's mouth, but she does it anyway). We have a few encounters with cross-eyed llamas who sit in the middle of our path. We also see some caged animals, from lions and evil-looking felines to a hilarious baby duck. The Redwoods await, though, and we have to reach Crescent City before it gets too late. We continue driving south.


The scenery en route to Crescent City is significantly prettier than the city itself. Still, we manage to score some good Thai food in the area, and we fall asleep to thoughts about towering trees.

- Andrew

Day 21

We leave Portland and head for the coast again, stopping at another AAA store along the way. By the early afternoon, we’ve reached the filming location for famed cinematic masterpiece “The Goonies” -- Astoria, OR. After viewing the town from a hilltop observatory called the Astoria Column, I call my mom and coach her through a long Googling process that eventually yields the address of Sean Astin’s house in the movie. We drive to the house, get out, walk up the driveway, and reenact the movie’s best parts.

I do the Truffle Shuffle. I recite some dialogue. I walk into the neighbor’s driveway, stomp my feet, and shout “I want my bike! I want my bike!” No less than seven other people walk up the driveway while we’re there, proof that I'm not the only person who still loves this movie. The driveway must get a lot of visitors.

Driving away from the house, we see the corner store used in the one of the film’s deleted scenes. Man. Who’s a big-time “Goonies” fan? Me.

Like a lot of small towns, Astoria has sheltered its quaint Main St. area from the presence of chain stores. Everything is locally owned and semi-overpriced, but we find a good restaurant and have a very late lunch. It’s well past 4:00 by the time we get back in the car and leave, passing the local jail (also in the movie!!) on our way out.

Thus begins our long trek down US-101, also called the Pacific Coast Highway. The road is a little crazy this far up the coast; it parallels the shoreline exactly, ,meaning there's a lot of sharp curves. We park the car and stretch our legs at Cannon Beach, where the mammoth Haystack Rock looms offshore. We could’ve hiked right up to the rock if we had arrived during low-tide, but approximately twenty yards of rough ocean water is splashing in our way right now. Instead, we walk along the beach until our legs get tired, and then we hit the road once more. Our plan to reach the bottom of Oregon by midnight has been thwarted by our slow-moving progress on US-1, so we cut our losses and crash in Lincoln City instead.

Day 20

Happy Independence Day!

Andrew and I have a talk about how I tend to use the 4th of July as the marker for my summer - where I am, who I am with, and whether or not I enjoy it tends to serve as the best indication for my summer state of mind. He doesn't feel like that at all, but is willing to put some effort into making it a fantastic day.



We say goodbye to Joey and David, coming up with somewhat far fetched ways for the 4 of us to hang out again,

"You know, Andrew, there is music in Seattle. If this Ann Arbor thing doesn't work out.... you know... Move here!"

Portland is on the horizon. It takes a few hours to get there, but on the way we view Mt. Rainier and Mt. Saint Helen's before pulling off the freeway to follow the sign that says:

Towards Boring

Clackamus

That's where my sister lives! Who knows where Boring lies, but Clackamus is a northern suburb of Portland equipped with larger apartments, easier parking, and rolling green hills. After the tour of her apartment and some visits with Cirque du Kitty - Sara's shockingly acrobatic calico feline - we head out to Hawthorne Blvd. to get a taste of the town.

Hawthorne Blvd, however, is thinking that everyone would want to be elsewhere on the 4th, so they've closed nearly all of their shops. We wander a little and find a glorious Vietnamese restaurant before heading to the grocery store to buy strawberry shortcake supplies.

We watch the Project Runway marathon as we cut strawberries and later feast on shortcake. Around 9, we say farwell to my sister, who has to wake up incredibly early for work the next day (a pang of compassion and sadness for people not currently enjoying summer vacation) and find our way to the Oaks Amusement Park Annual Fourth of July Celebration.

We make it to the bank of the Willamette River just as the fireworks begin. Because of a rather imposing tree blocking our view, we hike up our pants and join the dozens of onlookers wading into the cool river to watch the patriotic explosions. It's a dazzling and completely memorable half hour.

- Emily

PICTURE BREAK 3

Emily-the-super-tourist at Mt. Rushmore

Using the self-timer camera option at Yellowstone

Emily fails to scale the lakeside rock

Andrew rocks the lakeside rock

Andrew and David put the dance moves on a slot machine in Seattle

The Arizona native touches snow in Glacier National Park


Yellowstone's white water

Day 19

Joey tears out of the house around 9:45 a.m., late for work and mercilessly hungover. David stays behind, and we spend our morning recounting last night's events.

David: "I did what? I broke a glass?"
Us: "No, no, Joey broke the glass. All you did was offer to sell us a house through your real estate company."

John from AllMusic.com calls around 11:00 to offer me the position of Assistant Pop Editor. I accept, and David winds up cancelling one of his meetings in order to drive us around the city. "So... this is a life-changing event," he says as we climb into his Infinity, and I agree. What better way to celebrate an abrupt career move than to cruise the Emerald City in a luxury vehicle? We point the Infinity toward the most logical destination for elegant, high-profile celebration: the fish throwing stand at Pike St. Fish Market.

David is a fantastic tour guide. He takes us around the market, along the waterfront, and into a number of shops along the way. We see the world's first Starbucks, but none of us feel a craving for burnt coffee. We feed the seagulls at Ivan's and view some mummified remains at Ye Olde Curiosity Shop. We use one of Seattle's self-cleaning, space-age public restrooms, which have to be seen (or be used) to be believed. After hours of waterfront sightseeing, we get back into the Infinity and head toward the Space Needle, which is tall and long and UFO-shaped.

It costs $18 to travel up the Needle, so we pass on the elevated view and relax near a big fountain instead. Water rockets upward as children scream and run around in the spray. The sun is still hot, but just looking at the fountain gives us some relief. David takes a smoke break while Emily and I attempt a fast nap on the grass.

After meeting up with Joey at his apartment, we grab dinner at Buca di Beppos (who can pass up another massive Italian meal?) and go see Ratatouille, which Emily has been talking about since Virginia. In the lobby, there's a lifesize cardboard exhibit promoting The Simpson's upcoming movie, so we pose with Homer Simpson before heading to a late-night coffee shop for a caffeinated nightcap.

- Andrew

Day 18

We're flying down a highway hill when the police car passes us. The vehicle looks sinister; it's sleek and black, with two red sirens that evoke Satan's horns. I watch in the rear-view mirror as the cop car stops, does an immediate U-turn in the middle of the road (which is ILLEGAL, by the way), and starts to tail us. I sigh. The sirens come on. We get pulled over.

Ten minutes later, I'm $163 poorer as a result of my first traffic ticket. Emily is angry - there's no way in hell I was going 80 mph, she contends - but there's nothing to do other than continue west. We've got a long way to go before we hit Seattle.

As always, we forgo the easily-navigable interstates in favor of "local flavor" roads. The drive turns out to be quite nice, as we've chosen a scenic byway that takes us through a national forest and over the Cascade Mountains. When we reach the suburbs of Seattle, we get excited about two things. First, we're about to pass through Bothell, where American Idol runner-up Blake Lewis resides. Second, and most importantly, we're 30 minutes away from our dinner reservations at Maggiano's. My brother gave me a gift certificate to the restaurant before I left New York, so it's about damn time that we pass on the PBJ sandwiches and pack on the pasta.

Maggiano's is everything it should be. Tasty. Casually elegant. Fattening. We debate ordering some wine to go along with our meal, but decide to save our alcoholic appetite for this evening's other activity: karaoke at a Seattle gay bar with Emily's cousin, Joey.

We reach the bar (The Man-Ray) and meet up with Joey and his boyfriend, David. They're both awesome, trashed, and awesomely trashed. We get drinks, watch Joey sing a Cure song (which, coincidentally, is the same Cure song that Blake belted out during Gwen Stefani night on Idol), and leave around 11:30. Joey is housesitting for some friends of his, so we go to their 2-story house for the evening. More drinks are served and wine glasses are accidentally broken. It's a fun night. I'm anxious about receiving a call tomorrow from AllMusic - will they hire me or not?? - but have no trouble falling asleep, due in no small part to the strong Tom Collins cocktail that David prepares for me.

- Andrew

Day 17

We sleep through the pounding of our not so youthful hostel-mates up and down the hallway. Did Andrew mention that our hostel host informed us that the space once served as a brothel ("Along with almost every other building in East Glacier") ? Perhaps he didn't, but we certainly let our minds wander over how that would have played out in such an acoustic space.

Brownie's Hostel is also a convenience store and a bakery, and we buy a glorious raspberry/peach bran muffin on our way out the door. Andrew maneuvers the twisty mountain drive on the way to the infamous Going-to-the-Sun Road while I put together an inspiring "Going to the Sun Mix" on my iPOD that consists of such greats as "Paradise City" by Guns 'n' Roses and "Island in the Sun" by Weezer.

The Going-to-the-Sun Road is still closed! No! How could they insist on protecting innocent tourists from collapsing over the flood-weakened edge! They tell us we can drive about a third of the way in from that direction, or we could drive back to West Glacier and take it from the other side where we can get almost all the way over. We decide to do both.

This journey takes us about 6 hours. The east entrance looks much like the rest of the park - dramatic mountain ranges with peaks of ... snow? Ice? Glaciers? Andrew and I are slowly coming to realize that: 1) There is a different between a "Glacier" and an "Iceberg"; and 2) The icebergs that we thought were glaciers and expected to find in Glacier National Park do not really exist there - maybe because we not are floating in an ocean.

We snack on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on our way to to the west entrance. The drive to West Glacier is over an hour, and combined with the hype and obstacles surrounding this "Going-to-the-Sun Road," our expectations are steep. About 10 minutes in, Andrew snarks:

"Um, this road is not currently delivering the goods. Am I jaded by our many National Park and scenic drives? Because I am just not blown away yet."

I agree with him, but we learn that the glory of this road is actually in the steep climb, and that the scenery becomes more impressive the higher you go. The pinnacle is "Logan's Pass" where a crystal clear water fall collides with the road - you can drive your car through it and then stop and hike up.

Somehow our day in the car inspires some competitive twinkle in Andrew and I, and we insist on climbing higher that anyone else we've seen today, and further still in the water. I fill a bottle from the water and play in the small patch of snow still hiding from summer.

We fly back down the road and say goodbye to Montana - the state we've spent the longest in so far. We blow through Idaho, looking for a place to find something made from a potato, but are turned away from a restaurant because we've arrived past closing. Plus, we're actually only in Idaho for about a half hour.

A surprise waits for us with our hotel booking in Spokane, Washington. Somehow, we've stumbled across a fantastically equipped Super 8 with a 24 hour pool and jacuzzi that we hit up around 1 a.m. With our mind still full of our Glacier vs. Iceberg epiphany, we fall asleep to the cable TV viewing of "Titanic" on our hotel TV.

- Emily Entry

Day 16

While enjoying a better-than-normal continental breakfast, a jovial Canadian tells us that Glacier National Park has experienced some serious rain in the past year. As a result, the Park’s most scenic drive – the "Going-to-the-Sun Road" – hasn’t opened for the season. The Canadian tosses us a newspaper, and we look down to see the day’s cover story: a write-up on the road and its ongoing maintenance. According to the article, the Going-to-the-Sun Road will be open for business on the second day of our stay. We finish our waffles and draw up our daily agenda as we get into the car. We’ll check into a youth hostel, do some exploring in the park, and save the scenic drive for tomorrow.

We head north and drive through a series of small, depressed towns, every one of them dwarfed by giant mountains in the distance. I adopt the theory that these towns are depressed and uninspired as a result of their colossal surroundings. I test the theory on Emily.

“Look at these mountains. They’re all you can see at times. Imagine how hard it must be to have ambitions with these things looming over you. It really makes you realize how small you are. Christ, no wonder the citizenships are waning.”

Then I remember that Emily grew up beneath Superstition Mountain in the small town of Apache Junction, AZ. I abandon the theory and shut up.

Our youth hostel is in East Glacier, which is a longer drive than we’ve expected. Emily falls asleep while I continue to drive, eating wasabi-covered edamame and blasting Pearl Jam to stay awake. We reach the hostel in the late afternoon and take our bags to the small, private room that Emily booked for $26. The walls are thin, which means the flatulence of our next-door neighbor can be heard inside our room in high-fidelity sound. We drop off our things and leave.

After making friends with the sheriff’s dog and taking a quick drive into the park, we eat dinner at a café directly beside the hostel. Our dinner: a salad with huckleberry dressing, a portabella burger with zucchini and red peppers, a baked potato, and a slice of coconut pie. We waddle back to our room and fall asleep in our clothes, the sound of our snoring neighbor ringing throughout the room.

- Andrew

Day 15

When you're in a state as big as Montana, you can drive for hours and only move an inch or two on your Rand McNally Road Atlas. That's what happened to us today, and that's why we ended up staying in Missoula. Same state as Butte, and only a small metric measurement apart - but WORLDS away in terms of culture, ambiance, and vegetarian-friendly cuisine. Right on.

After checking into our motel, we headed downtown in search of an antique carousel that Emily had read about. We found it spinning beside a parking lot that was playing temporary host to an antique car show. Emily wandered around and recited automotive facts while I acted like I understood her mechanic lingo. She knows more about vehicles than I ever will. After we had our fill of Cadillacs and Mustangs, we took a ride on the carousel. It's the fastest spinning carousel in the country, apparently, and the thing really flies.

Note: do not consume kettle corn and red wine before riding the country's fastest carousel. It does not feel good.

Now a bit nauseous, we made our way back to the car and drove a few blocks to the University of Montana. An abundance of flowers, some cool-looking buildings, and a jogging trail up the side of an adjacent mountain make the school pretty charming. Emily showed her love by randomly flossing her teeth, since she apparently carries floss in her purse at all times. The giant Montana skies started to drop rain on us, though, so we set aside the oral hygiene and headed back to the Main Street area in search of food.

Who knew that Montana has its own gourmet pizza chain? Eat at the MacKenzie River Pizza Company if you ever have the chance, and make sure you put their spicy balsamic dressing on everything. It packs a surprisingly sophisticated punch, much like Missoula itself.

- Andrew

Day 14

Yellowstone is brutal when it’s cold, and I end up having another night of half-frozen sleep. Still, I’m well-rested by the time the sun up. It’s a good thing, too, because Emily is deadset on completing the second half of our Yellowstone tour… even if she doesn’t understand everything that our National Parks of the West guidebook is telling us to do.

“What exactly IS the Norris Geyser Basin?” I ask after we’ve packed up the tent, loaded the car, and read over the guidebook’s suggestions.

Emily gives me an I-don’t-care shrug. “Who knows?”

We have heard a great deal about our first stop, though: Old Faithful. We reach the famed geyser and wait 90 minutes for it to erupt. When it does, it’s a bit predictable and anticlimactic. Still, we go through the motions. Watch the geyser smoke. Watch the geyser erupt. See the water propel from the hole. Ooooh. Ahhhh.

We grab lunch from the Old Faithful Inn, and it’s much tastier than yesterday’s meal. Afterward, we check out the Kepler Falls and drive several miles downstream before the urge to play in the water – which is much calmer by now – convinces us to pull over. I teach Emily to skip rocks and am suddenly reminded of that romantic episode of Salute Your Shorts. Anyone else remember that one?

We end up skipping the Norris Geyser Basin. We’ve smelled enough sulfur these past two days to last a lifetime, so driving to our next destination seems like the best thing to do. Next up: MONTANA.

We choose to stay in Butte, where I get bad vibes from the combination of cowboy hats, urban depression, and bad restaurants. After asking the local Chinese place to make us something with tofu, we retreat to the local Super 8 and rediscover the joys of showering.

- Andrew

Day 13

We assumed that we didn’t need to set an alarm while camping, thinking the sun and joyful voices of fellow campers would raise us from our slumber. Incorrect! We slept until after 10 because the best sleep came after the sun came up and the temperatures climbed out of the 30s, Andrew had found his way back into his sleeping bag after waking up trembling and with chattering teeth, and I’d pulled my hoodie up over my wool cap and abandoned fresh air for a warm nose inside of my sleeping bag.

Despite our late start, we had an itinerary to follow- the glorious National Parks of the West gave us a “Yellowstone in 2 days” plan that sounded tantalizing, so we shoved some granola bars in our mouths and set out for the Yellowstone Fishing Bridge and Hamilton store on the East side, where we were disappointed to find they didn’t offer Gardenburgers (we wanted to do a cookout that night – but to no avail). Instead, we bought a couple of bananas and ate them as we walked to the fishing bridge, wondering if a big bear would jump out and snatch it from our hands.

Immediately after walking onto the bridge, we saw a half dozen pelicans flying in to patron the water just below. Immediately we become the bloodthirsty type of nature viewers. Andrew had the camera trained on the most aggressive bird.

“C’Mon! Get get the fish! Go! Go! Any second now! C’MON!”

I nearly pass out from excitement because someone tells me the moving dot is a WOLF swimming towards the visible island. I decide this will no longer do. No more animal viewing from afar – if we want an encounter, we have to go deep. We take a path in much farther than the island, find out from a returning hiker that is was a coyote, and not a wolf, that caught my eye, and that there is a beaver up ahead. Yes! Now I can’t think about anything else until we find ourselves face to face with a pair of elk who are not as frightened of us as I anticipated. Andrew figures out the timer option on the camera and we play at posing on a log with the elk in the background before getting close enough to get some candid shots of the massive, antlered one.

We head back to the car as is starts to rain, never having set eyes on the mystical beaver, and stop for a picnic of Peanut Butter Bumpers cereal and applesauce when the sky clears. On the way to our next destination, we see a bison on the side of the road and I temporarily forget the warnings of recent human/buffalo gorings as I get up close and personal with Mr. Big Head Bison.

A SWARM of elderly people on a guided bus tour beat us to the Artist’s Point viewing area of the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone. We politely duck and weave through the comments of

“My, this is more crowded than Disneyland!”
“Excuse me, excuse me! Well, I didn’t think I would have to say it more than once, but you learn something new every day.”
“Ooo! It’s lovely! Where is the bathroom?”

Andrew mutters in my ear “Kids these days….” and we slide off the concrete onto a hiking trail that takes you along the rim of the multicolored canyon created by a rushing waterfall. As it turns out, I was also unsuccessful at finding a bathroom at the popular viewing point, and was forced to pee in the woods while Andrew laughed and provided security.

Next stop, and hike #3 for the day, we went to the water falls in the Upper Brink, where my tendency to get as close to the edge as possible for the best view, even if it means hopping over railings or crawling onto rocky outcrops, finally got to be too much for Andrew, who spurted, “No. No. You are not going over there. I am not losing you to a waterfall.”

Hungry and still following our National Park guide book, we went over to the Canyon Villiage Lodge for dinner. The wait was about 45 minutes, but we grabbed our books out of the car and enjoyed drinks on the couches in the lobby area before we experienced the mediocre dinner at the lodge. Turns out Andrew’s “Salmon sandwich” was actually a compact, freezerific pink patty.

We looked for a place to watch the sunset as we drove back to the campsite (which, by the way, was over an hour from where we ended up). We pulled over when we saw a 10 person group of very excited people with binoculars, where we pretended we could see the distant grizzly bear as the sun dropped below the mountain. Then we returned to our campground, rejoicing that the tent was already set up and that the forecast low predicted a balmy 42 degrees!

- Emily Entry!