Dear Natalie,
I haven’t heard much from you in a while. We’ve had really spotty cell service, so it’s been a few days since we’ve FaceTimed. When your texts come through, I’m usually driving, so I haven’t had a chance to answer them. I’m sorry. It looks like you’ve been busy. I know your workload is really ramping up as your program at RISD gets down into its last two weeks. I’m sure you’re working hard.
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| Parting shots of Kalaloch Lodge and the beach |
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We left Olympic National Park this morning and drove back to Olympia, where we ducked into a Barnes and Noble bookstore right off the freeway; Charlie and Clare had run out of books to read, and I wanted to use WiFi to upload a couple of blog installments. (Thinking about you and the first Stephen King novel you ever read (“Carrie,” St. Marys, Georgia, 2014), Dad helped Charlie pick out his own King novel, “The Outsider.")
This morning, as we were eating breakfast in the cabin, Charlie asked how many days we have left in the trip. I told him we were over halfway done and that we have less than ten days left on the road. Then I counted in my head and figured out that, after today, we still have 12 days to go. The thought really wore me down. How can we only be halfway done by this point? I’m bone-tired, and I’m ashamed to admit that I’m ready to go home.
After our stop in Olympia, as we drove back toward Tacoma to collect the Teardrop at the tire store, Dad confessed to me that he feels the same way, and we briefly entertained the idea of cutting the trip short. Charlie and Clare are having a good time, but they don’t get as geeked up about museum visits and tide pools and camp fires and walks in the woods as they did when they were much younger. Or, maybe now that they’re older, they’ve can be more articulate and ardent with their protests. And, we miss you, Natalie. It’s just not the same without you.
There’s been something else going on, too, which has been stressing us out, and which I am telling you about now only because I think the issue is resolved:
Olive got expelled from the kennel where she’s been boarded because she has kennel cough. And now Ruby might be afflicted as well. The Stapletons are leaving for San Diego tomorrow. Grandma and Papa Mac are leaving for Alaska tomorrow. And no other kennel wants anything to do with a couple of pooches that are spreading kennel cough around. So we’ve had to scramble to find other arrangements for the dogs — a task that’s been made even more difficult by the fact that we are on the edge of the earth here, and are working with only a shred of cell signal. Over the last few days, we’ve had to make several calls and texts — to the kennel, to the vet, to grandma, to Bryan. But calls were missed. Calls were dropped. Text messages were crossed, and confusion reigned.
A huge shout-out to Grandma for all her help shuttling our dogs between the kennel, the vet, the Stapletons’ house and our home, and for talking to the doctor, coordinating with the kennel, and keeping Olive overnight.
Anyway, both dogs are at home now, and they are being cared for by a young woman from the kennel, who is visiting them three times a day. We’ve also asked Sylvia to come by in the afternoons to play with them. So, please don’t worry. I waited to tell you about all of this until we knew it was straightened out.
But … for a while, it was a concern. And Dad and I have been a little anxious. That’s why, as we were stuck in traffic on Interstate 5 today — for the third time on this trip — we toyed with the idea of heading home early.
Of course, that notion was fleeting. Dad and I came to our senses and rallied after we returned to the Tacoma tire store, hitched up the Teardrop, which has been outfitted with beautiful, brand new tires, and continued on our way toward Mount Rainier. Maybe we had been discouraged by the feeling of being trapped on the same stretch of I-5 three times this week. And maybe we were encouraged later in the afternoon, after we finally broke out of that rut and made some forward progress again. It felt like a new start.
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| It was nice to hitch up the Teardrop and get back on the road. |
By the way, Natalie. Remember that espresso stand in Colorado, with the barista in the g-string? Apparently Sexpresso stands are a thing that started in Washington — we’ve run into a number of them in the Seattle-Tacoma area. They have names like Hot Chick-a-Latte, Hottie Shots, and Bikini Beans. In fact, if you have enough imagination, every espresso stand starts to sound like a Hooters-for-Coffee. I mean, Conspicuous Cups? (A for-real place we passed.) C'mon! I know innuendo when I see it.
In that spirit, I have decided to trademark my own bikini espresso stand names: Cuppa Ho and Bumpin’ Grind. Dad, of course, opened this up for discussion in a text thread with his St. Olaf friends, and they came up with Bean Girls, Vag-joe-joe and, FTW, Camel Joe.
Anyway, we could see the snow-capped Mount Rainier towering ahead for most of our drive from Tacoma. We pulled into the national park campground around 5 p.m. and quickly found our campsite.
The Cougar Rock campground is in the shadow of Rainier, in a beautiful wooded area. And, since it’s essentially on the side of a mountain, most of the sites are sloped. After Dad and I jumped out of the car to assess how to best angle the Teardrop so it doesn’t roll down the road, the gentleman from the next campsite showed up, glass of red wine in-hand — “To watch the show,” he said.
He was being cheeky. He and his wife had arrived in their camper last night and he admits they had a hell of a time leveling it. One wheel is perched precariously on two risers, which are held in place with stones. Their license plate says “KIWI RV,” and sure enough, they are from New Zealand. They spend almost six months every year touring the U.S. in their motorhome. His name is Bruce and he is absolutely charming and chatty. He invited us to “pop over later for a yak.” So while Clare made dinner, I chatted with Bruce about their travels and about life in Aukland.
After dinner, we attended a ranger talk in the campground amphitheater. The audience members were invited to write about why they think native lands should be protected, and Clare was called on to read all the responses out loud in front of the crowd. She did a wonderful job.
Tomorrow we’re excited to hike the Skyline trail, a “strenuous” trail that leaves from the Paradise Visitors Center, not far from here. So — I’m off to bed now.
Take care, My Love. We’ll talk soon. Keep up the good work.
I love you.
Love, Mom
xoxoxoxo
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