The air turned while we were away. Today, I am wearing jeans and yanking beets the size of my fist, leeks the length of Margot’s leg, cabbage the circumference of Ruby’s head. I have equal love for every season and because of this, I mourn walking away from summer (my baby-faced kindergartner, my quiet mama’s girl) while feeling just right walking toward fall (my freckle-faced first grader, my loud mama’s girl).
We packed for our trip backpacking-style, meaning the bare essentials, meticulously placed for ultimate space-saving. We each had only a few items of clothing, everything folded and tucked into camping bowls and stuff sacks. And then we cut it all in half. Miraculously, it all fit — camping gear, our personal stuff, big dog, four humans, food, water, bikes. Our rocket box was like Mary Poppin’s satchel, sometimes like those jokester cans that look like beans but open to exploding paper snakes in your face.
The day before our trip I diagnosed verticillium wilt on our 31 tomato plants. So, while Andy jengaed items into the car, I cooked sauce from the tomatoes I picked from the plants I pulled and threw away. It seems no matter how organized I am, no matter how hard I work and plan to leave at a certain time, I have an urgent homestead something to mix in with packing toiletries. This time, it was a heaping basket of ripe tomatoes.
On the first day we traveled southwest along the Lochsa River to Lewiston, Idaho. Through wildfire smoke so thick it mixed with our words. Based on a suggestion from an instagram friend, we found a campsite. We promptly hopped in the tent where we rocked with the wind and exclaimed at lightening’s strobe that sporadically illuminated our faces. The storm was fierce and strong and quickly turned into a regular ol’ downpour. The girls held some fear that was easily distracted by mama snuggles in the down sleeping bags with headlamps and books.
Margot began journaling on this day, using the new blank book and pen I’d surprised her with. What should I write? she asked. Write what you see, write what you know and don’t know. Right what you wonder about, I said.
This morning I wok op and I sa a prasint in my car.
Nao I am in my car.
Nao I se goldin matis.
Nao there is a bad storm.
Nao it is sloing dawn.
Soggy, we packed up and headed out the next day to Sunriver, Oregon to meet up with my family.
My dad’s father’s parents lived in the Bitterroot Valley, just south of where we live now. They had five children, my grandfather the oldest. I didn’t know much about this part of my family; my grandfather died suddenly when I was five. I remember he was funny, he smoked a pipe. He called me Nick The Rock. I remember my dad crying and shaving, cutting his chin with the razor as he prepared to fly out after receiving the shocking news of his dad’s heart attack. It was the first time I saw my dad cry.
I later learned of my grandfather’s service in the FBI. He was a Flying Tiger in WWII. He was a law professor at The University of Montana. His father had also died from a heart attack when he was young. His mother left for Oregon with her youngest when her eldest children were off to college/air force.
This reunion in Sunriver was for this part of my family. My mom initiated the whole thing with an email a little over a year ago, unsure of what might happen. Dozens of Holts showed up. I met my dad’s cousins, their kids and their kids. For five days we hung with family that immediately felt like family. Yes, family can have something to do with name, blood, proximity and shared past. But mostly, it has everything to do with humanity, history and the choice to know one another. We are all related.
^ wild hail storm left three inches on the ground ^
We had planned to head south from Sunriver to the Redwoods. Instead our little family unit drove toward the ocean. Andy and I thrive on unplanned, unbooked travel. We love the excitement of choosing small, less-traveled highways off of a wrinkled, non-talking, old fashioned map.
Always in search of primitive campsites, I read about a little spot on a lake near Sisters, Oregon. We drove the McKenzie Road through fields of lava rock and into an emerald lake with one campsite left. We set up camp, made dinner and envied the site across the way — the one tucked into the forest, right on the lake.
And, right then, as we were saying damn, that site is so awesome the people staying there packed up and left. You know it. We scooped up our piles, ran 100 yards and staked claim.
^ Alice buried brussels sprouts in super secret spots for her nighttime snacks ^
The girls spent more than an hour making a fairy house. And, two visited: Ponderosa Rose and Lava Feather. They are summer fairy who care for germinating pinecones and the homes of pikas in the lava fields.
Margot and Ruby were fascinated by the once-hot lava surrounding us. We hiked through it, read all about it and are now researching books and websites to answer Margot’s 117 questions about where the first people came from (but where do they COME from?), when the first dinosaur lived, how deep under the earth hot lava exists, where every volcano is in our country, how rock is dated…
>> trip details <<
Margot’s hiking shoes
Ruby’s hiking shoes
Travel espresso maker
DAY 1:
Lochsa River
Hells Gate State Park, Lewiston, Idaho: a nice, clean, friendly park with a little bit of highway traffic noise
DAY 2 – 6:
Sunriver, Oregon
Hike to Tumalo Falls: it was more crowded than I’m accustomed for hike but beautiful, shady and easy for the kids
Float on the Deschutes River
Thump Coffee
Day 7:
Lava Camp Lake Campground: free and beautiful and primitive
Lava River National Recreation Trail: educational and magical
McKenzie Pass scenic byway: gorgeous, forested, lush, tons of hiking trails
>> part 2 tomorrow <<
24 Comments
LOVED the pix of the sisters at Sisters, OR!!!
What a pleasure to take a chance to check if you had posted! We are at the last of our epic road trip… 21 days out & 5350 miles later just a quick 80 miles til home….AND just read this beautiful post to Dad a fantastic read to bring us on in! LOVE you Burb!
Great family picture in the lava fields.
I live in MT also and hardly ever see anybody when I’m out running with my dogs, isn’t it strange to be on a crowded hiking trail? I love Montana!
Looks like you took along a great, black traveling dress, I would never think to take a dress camping, but it looks like it worked really well for you, what kind is it?
It’s just a basic cotton knit dress. I love dresses for camping/car travel! They are easy to get on and off, can dress up if need be and easy to layer with leggings.
What a great trip! My friend, a UofM grad as well, has an amazing organic farm just outside of Sisters in Terrebonne! Rainshadow Organics is the place. If you ever find yourselves out that way again, let me know, I’m sure she would love some Montana visitors 🙂
Oh there was SO much fresh food around there! The fruit stands upon farms upon fruit stands. What a place to live and grow food. Thanks for passing along her farm. We will be back in that area for sure! 🙂
I love Margot’s question–but where did they COME from? I’m from Wyoming. When I lived in Wyoming and Montana, I learned that, “Where ya from?” is one of the first questions we ask someone new in the course of making friends. Nobody asks that where I live now, on the edge of Puget Sound in Washington state. The sense I get is that that is an invasive question to ask someone known only superficially, and to share the information unsolicited is, well, a bit gauche.
I love it that Margot wants to know where the first people came from. I think the first people would understand her question. They, to, would consider identity inseparable from a sense of place. I hope, wherever she goes, Margot will always be a Montana girl. 🙂
Hi, I live in Wyoming! We moved to a new-to-us valley in Wyoming a few years ago and it took me by surprise that people would not only ask, “Where ya from?” But also, “Where do you live?” As in, the exact street address. I’m used to it now : )
Lovely words, as always, Nici. But that photo of the gray oblivion of stone interrupted only by the three colorful pops of your people? Aces, mama. Aces. xo
The light was pretty amazing that day! And, kind of hilarious how COLORFUL our bunch was among the monochromatic landscape. xo
It appears you like to try to be a hard ass, so this may not be the advice for you, but you can freeze tomatoes. Whole tomatoes, just wrap in plastic wrap, put in ziplock, (foodsaver is good too) freeze. Skin comes off easily after thawed. So next time no need to work too hard before your omg so hardcore activity/trip/ up all night and you can cook those tomatoes later when it’s cold out 🙂
I do love advice and ideas! When well intentioned. And, I think, even amidst your condescending word choice, your advice is well-intentioned. I have frozen tomatoes before but the sauce I make is so damn easy (no peeling, no seed removal) that I chose to just cook it up while we packed. And then put the jars in the fridge and had my neighbor put them in the freezer when cooled. It worked well for us! And I didn’t even have to stay up all night to be that hardcore. 😉
You are just inspiring. I wish you lived nearer me, or vice versa so I could follow your kind recommendations! I’m in the UK however, and we don’t really have the same kind of terrain/camping/etc. Keep on keeping on.
Your family photo? The best.
Love your writing, photos and stories!
MAKES ME MISS THE FEW WONDERFUL CAMPING TRIPS I HAD WITH MY 2 LITTLE GIRLS! YOUR POSTS ALWAYS REMIND ME OF THEM WHEN THEY WERE THE SAME AGE AS YOUR 2 LITTLE CUTIES!! GREAT JOB.
I just found your blog about 3 weeks ago. I am in blog Heaven. Thanks!
I just wanted to let you know that the link for Margot’s hiking shoes isn’t working (at least for me its not)
Ahhh, so lovely. Thanks for reminding me to re-visit those lava fields next time I see my mom! So beautiful. Were you camping in Sunriver too?
Beautiful photos and words to match, Nici.
Love the part about family, specifically choosing to know each other.
My stepfather’s family has a reunion every 4 years. The 4 elders who started it have all passed on now, so their combined 16 children are carrying on the tradition. I’m not related by blood to any of them, but I’m welcomed and love getting to know this delightful group of cousins (and their children) who are making a choice to know each other.
lovely photos.
and family.
all these colors and tones and the vibration that is visible.
always a joy to peek in on your living.
In our family, jenga-ing in the car is called ‘playing tetris.’ Somehow it all fits… and if it doesn’t, you didn’t need it anyway
Love your family camping adventures… we have yet to take our boys camping but know that they will love it so! And loving this about family… But mostly, it has everything to do with humanity, history and the choice to know one another. We are all related.
So very true.
But Alice with dusty snout made my day…
🙂
Kate