Cities, Arches, and Canyons of Rock, Nepalese Jewelry Peddlers

It's been a couple of weeks since my last posting so it feels like it's time for an update.

Since the last post I visited City of Rocks in southern Idaho, then drove more or less directly to Moab in southeastern Utah.

City of Rocks is a sport rock climbing area, in the same vein as Oregon's Smith Rock. Upon seeing it I thought the name was a good fit. It's kind of like the downtown of a mid sized city, but instead of buildings there's a bunch of rock formations scattered about. I'm not sure what elevation it's at but it must be fairly high, because it was snowing when I arrived in the late afternoon. The area is set in a high desert, surrounded by rolling hills which are actually rather high (~10,000 ft).

City of Rocks is in forest service land. The routes are very accessible via dirt roads and a network of trails. Some of the routes could literally be belayed from your car. There are many campsites and toilets in the area. The tiny town of Almo is within a 15 minute drive and has most of what you need.

As with the Bugaboos, the rock climbing season had pretty much wrapped up by the time I'd arrived. I saw one other party, which looked like some kind of school or guided group. I spent two days there, mostly hiking about and scrambling on some of the rock formations. I considered staying longer but took it as a sign to leave when it started drizzling on the second afternoon. I uploaded a couple of photos here.

Having spent much of the trip to date in cold alpine environments, often with snow, I was looking forward to a sunnier, dryer, and warmer climate. After yet another encounter with the authorities (they said I had parked in some kind of missile range) I arrived in Moab. The afternoon I arrived a thunderstorm came through, but since then the weather's been pretty much what I had hoped for. Most days it's been completely clear, with highs in the 70s. The sun gets just bright and hot enough to almost make me wish it weren't quite so sunny, but only for a short bit of time before it starts to cool off again. Nights are cold, around freezing, and usually clear.

Moab is at the center of a vast, year-round outdoor playground. Within an hour's drive are two national parks (Arches and Canyondlands), a 12000 ft mountain range (the LaSals), multiple sport rock climbing destinations (Indian Creek probably being the most well known), class V river rapids on the Colorado River, hundreds of miles of rough canyon roads for 4x4 off-road and ATV fans, and, of course, the famous slickrock mountain biking trails.

I've been here for a week and a half and feel like I've only scratched the surface. I was a but overwhelmed when I first arrived. There were so many possibilities it was hard to decide what to do first. I felt like a kid in a candy store. I decided to start exploring the area on foot. I spent a couple of days day hiking in the Canyondlands and in Arches. After that I went backpacking for six days, then scrambled up one of the LaSals peaks. I haven't even ridden the bike yet or pulled out my rock shoes.

Arches is a fairly small national park. The entrance is just two miles outside of Moab. It's very popular and has a very touristy, almost Disneyland-like feel to it. The main attraction is, of course, the high density of natural rock arches. All are accessible via day hikes and many don't even require that you leave your car for a good look. In the span of one long day I managed to get through all the day hikes in the park. I hiked into one arch late on a clear, moonlit night, which made it more enjoyable. It is, admittedly, a must see if you're in the area. Photos here.

Canyonlands is a larger, less popular park which is divided into two main districts. The first district I visited is called Island in the Sky. This is essentially a large mesa, mostly flat on top, about 10 x 10 miles in size, and a couple of thousand feet above the Colorado River on one side and the Green River on the other. On the south side of the island the two rivers merge. On the north side the island is connected to the "mainland" by a 40 ft wide neck, technically making the island a peninsula. The natives used to drive bighorn sheep through the neck and onto the island, making it easier to hunt them. Later, cowboys fenced off the neck, turning the island into a giant corral for cattle. On any side the island drops off steeply into canyons and water sculpted rock formations. The canyons look like photos I've seen of the Grand Canyon. The views from the top of the island are stunning.

My first backpacking trip took me on a loop, down the west side of the island to the Green River, up the Green River a bit, into a canyon heading east towards the neck, then back uphill on the north side of the island. For a region that gets less than 10 inches of rain in a year water was easier to find than I had expected. Trees seem to be a good indicator of a spring and pools sometimes lingered at the bottom of steep north facing walls. Some of the water admittedly looked and smelled rather foul, but boiling it will kill anything that might hurt you (so I hoped, anyway). The dead stuff might even be nutritious. It was on this excursion that I came across a rock formation called Zeus and Moses. These are two rock towers, the taller one with an overhanging block near the top. I hiked up to the base and noticed climbing gear on both towers. I later found route descriptions on the web. Moses, the taller one, has a route with 525 ft (eight pitches) of vertical. The descent involves three rappels on two 60 meter ropes. The route is rated a 5.11+, well beyond my abilities, but it looked like you could lower the grade by aid climbing some parts. I found a web page describing a mid air traverse someone had done between the two towers using 1200 ft of static rope. Island in the Sky photos are here.

My backcountry permit was good for a few more days. Wanting to make the most out of the $15 I paid for the permit I next headed to the Needles district of the Canyonlands. Although they're in the same park and just a few miles from each other as the crow flies, it's close to a two hour drive between the two districts.

The Needles are quite different from what I'd seen in Island in the Sky or Arches. I can only describe the rock formations as other wordly. I'd never seen anything like them, either in person or in photos. It often seemed like I was on another planet, maybe the desert planet in the Star Wars series. Like Island in the Sky and Arches, there were canyons and rock pinnacles, but the shapes were much rounder. Many of the formations looked like someone had taken different colored balls of dough, stacked them on each other, then waited a while for gravity to deform the balls into odd shapes. In some areas the formations were very regular, forming what looked to my eyes like a fortress of alien architecture. In other areas there were narrow canyons in the spaces between benches of rock, often with overhanging walls. Inside the canyons trees and plants grew. These canyons reminded me of the old TV series "Land of the Lost" because they seemed like places where you could hide dinosaurs without anyone noticing. Every now and then I'd come across Native American artwork and petroglyphs on the canyon walls. It only added to the feeling that I was in another, strange world. Hopefully the photos convey some of of what I'm trying to describe. I also uploaded a video clip. The photo at the top of this posting is from the Needles.

I later learned that these structures were formed when underlying layers of salt had deformed as a result of the weight of the sedimentary rock which had built up on top of the salt. The Island in the Sky canyons, by contrast, were formed by erosion.

I left the Needles planning on heading back to Moab. I expected to meet Jeff there the next day. Once I got a cell signal I discovered he'd left Corvallis a day later than planned. I headed in the opposite direction instead, towards the nearby town of Monticello, to pamper myself with some restaurant food after sleeping in the dirt for six days.

On the way to Monticello the van started cutting out intermittently. Since the engine wasn't completely dying I pressed on. Once I got into town the problem got worse. On leaving the local burger joint the engine finally died and refused to restart. I figured I might as well take a look at the engine and see if there was anything I could find wrong. After checking a few things I noticed that one of the vacuum hoses was in pretty sad shape. I pulled it off, put my finger over one end and sucked on the other. It definitely had a leak. I didn't really think that this was the cause of the problem but figured I needed to replace it anyway. Luckily there was a parts store just two blocks away. To my surprise the engine ran fine once I replaced the hose.

It was while eating a burger in the restaurant that I met the Nepalese jewelry peddler. She'd hit up the restaurant owner and his daughter first. Initially I thought she was a Native American conducting some business with the owner. However, when she was finished with the owner she came over to my table and introduced herself as a native of Nepal who was on a mission. Her accent was consistent with the region. I hadn't finished my food and for the moment my stomach had control of my brain, so I told her that I had no need for any jewelry before she had even finished opening her case. She then asked for a donation. Still eager to return to eating my food I gave her the first bill I pulled out of my pocket, a ten. She was still curious about something and asked me if I was familiar with Nepal. I rattled off what I knew about Nepal's recent history: For most of the current decade Marxist rebels had been fighting soldiers loyal to the Nepalese king in a bloody civil war. Recently they'd decided to stop shooting each other and were currently negotiating over the structure of a new government. She was surprised at what I knew, but still didn't leave. She then explained that in Nepal there are people who look like me (mentioning my hair) who are called hippies. She asked me if I was a hippie. I'd been living outside for a week in the same clothes, hadn't cut my hair in several months, and hadn't shaved since leaving Corvallis. I must have looked even more grimey and disheveled than I normally do. Still thinking about the rest of my food I searched for a response that would allow me to get back to eating as soon as possible. I finally told her that if I look like a hippie then, yes, I must indeed be a hippie. She thanked me for my donation then headed to the adjacent pool hall to look for more customers / donors. Later, after my stomach relinquished control of my brain I wished I had asked her what her mission was. The backwaters of Utah seem like an odd place to find a jewelry peddler from Nepal.

Since I had an extra day before Jeff arrived I decided to head to the LaSal mountain range after spending the night in Monticello. The turn off for range access is on the way back to Moab. The LaSals aren't an especially aesthetic range, at least close up. They're more like high elevation hills. There's no permanent snow on them and none of the routes have much in the way of exposure. Grass grows on the peaks almost to the summits. However, they form the backdrop for all the places I've mentioned in this blog entry, so I figured I'd might as well pay them a visit.

My original intent was to climb Mt. Peale, at 12.7k ft the highest peak in the range. After slogging up boulder fields, sometimes on all fours, and reaching a ridge line, I realized that I hadn't paid enough attention to where I was going. There was a steep rock chute immediately between me and the ridge that lead to Mt. Peale's summit. I had gone up the wrong gully. Mt. Tukuhnikivatz ("Tuku" for short) was in the opposite direction along the same ridge line. It was closer, and looked easier to reach. It's summit, 240 ft lower than Peale's, instantly became my new objective. More scrambling on boulders and a few small snow patches put me on top. The summit was marked with a wooden pole, a bivy trench dug into the boulders, what I think was a bear skull, and a pile of poop from some animal. It was pretty windy. Some ravens were hanging out just above me performing various acrobatic tricks in the sky. It was actually very majestic. It seemed as if they were surfing the wind, just for the fun of it, never flapping their wings. It was effortless. Every now and then I'd hear a loud swoosh as they dove and buzzed the summit. The things they did would put acrobatic airplane pilots to shame. I sat there and watched the air show until they headed off somewhere else. LaSal pictures are here.

As I post this entry I'm in the town of Moab. Jeff should be arriving later today. We'll be rock climbing and mountain biking in the area and will likely go back to the Needles for more backpacking. I should be in the Moab vicinity for at least a couple more weeks. There's still much to explore here, and it's hard to complain about the weather given the time of year.

Phantom Glaciers, Senior Climbers, Sawtooths, & Illegal Immigrants

Since my last entry I've visited Glacier National Park in western Montana and the Sawtooth Range in southern Idaho.

After successfully avoiding jail time in two countries I arrived at the eastern entrance of Glacier. There I learned that the road which cuts through Glacier was closed for maintenance. I had hoped to cross Glacier through this road. I quickly decided, mostly due to the immediately bad weather (see previous blog entry, Canadian police encounter section) to drive around the south end of the park and enter on the west side. While having breakfast in a small town on my route I learned that the wind storm had reached speeds of over 50 MPH overnight. The record wind speed for the area was around 110 MPH. Yikes! I thought only hurricanes and tornadoes reached such speeds in places other than high mountains.

Soon enough, I reached the west end of Glacier. My first stop after a night's sleep was the backcountry permit office. After describing my intended route, which involved backpacking to the continental divide, the ranger refused to give me a permit. He said there was too much snow on my route and that it would very likely snow more while I was out. It was overcast and raining at the time, snowing higher up, and the forecast called for more of this. Nonetheless, I was pretty upset at his response. I may never have the chance to visit this place again, I could always turn around if conditions warranted, and, after all, I had the most to lose from the venture. I took him up on his suggestion to check out conditions for myself (I think maybe he considered it a test) by doing a day hike to higher elevations. I picked out Mt. Brown, an 8500 ft peak with almost a mile of elevation gain. I got to within a few hundred feet of the top before turning around due to waist deep snow. Not for the first time I wished I had thrown my snowshoes in the van before leaving Corvallis. In any case, the divide was at a lower elevation, so I figured I could still get to it.

The next morning I showed up at the permit office, prepared with redundant arrays of arguments for why I should be granted a permit. My preparations proved to be unnecessary since there was a different ranger at the office. This time I made no mention of the continental divide and was granted a permit.

I did make the continental divide, although the snow was almost as deep as Mt. Brown. It was overcast and snowing or raining for most of my outing, so I didn't get to see much. My best day weather-wise was the day I hiked up Mt. Brown. On this outing I had decided to try my luck at fishing and trapping. Why buy food and haul it in on your back when there's food all around you? I didn't have a fishing pole with me so I made one. For trapping I made a snare out of dental floss, webbing, and some sticks whittled with a knife. A sapling served as the spring. I used peanut butter for bait. I set it up three times. Each time the peanut butter was eventually gone but the snare hadn't tripped. I'll need to make the trap more sensitive if I hope to catch anything. I think the problem was with how I had whittled the sticks and maybe also the angle of the pull from the sapling. I had similar luck with fishing, but I think the problem there was with the lure.

I have to say that Glacier was somewhat disappointing. Maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was the fact that I had just visited the Canadian Rockies. The Canadian Rockies peaks seemed similar to Glacier's. Despite the name I didn't see any glaciers. I have heard that Glacier's glaciers have retreated substantially. After picking up the van's newly minted duplicate title in Kalispell I headed for the Sawtooths. Glacier photos are here.

The weather looked much more promising as I headed for Stanley, Idaho. The skies were blue and the climate became dryer, reminiscent of central Oregon. I passed through the towns of Victor, Elmo, and Corvallis, all in Montana. Soon enough I reached Stanley. Stanley is a tiny town (the city limits sign claimed a population of 100) located just northeast of the Sawtooth range at the north end of a broad valley. Surprisingly it had a public library, and even more surprisingly it had free wireless internet service.

It was while I was at the library looking for a Sawtooths guidebook that I met Bob Dargatz. Bob is a retired structural engineer, lifelong climber, and all around athlete who lives just outside of Stanley. At the age of 82 he still makes multi-day backpacking trips (often as a guide) into the Sawtooths and climbs 10,000+ ft peaks. He invited me over to his place to pick up a guidebook and map of the area. The Sawtooths were literally in his back yard. He said he typically left from his house when traveling into the Sawtooths.

Bob had a wealth of information on the Sawtooths. He gave me his guidebook, saying he'd just ordered the second edition, and his well worn USGS topo map of the north end of the range. The map was especially valuable, since Bob had marked climbing routes, alpine trails, good camping spots, and a secret hot spring on it. None of this information was in the guidebook or in the available maps. Judging by the fact that some of the routes on Bob's map were not mentioned in the guidebook I think he had put up some new routes. After sharing photos of our forays into the peaks Bob went on to tell various stories from his life. We spent the afternoon and evening together, forgetting to eat. I especially enjoyed hearing Bob's stories about World War II. He had served in the army, first in the Philippenes and then as part of the occupation force after Japan surrendered. For someone of my age, WWII can often seem like the distant past. Hearing vivid accounts directly from someone who had lived it made the war seem much more real. It turns out that Bob has ties to Corvallis. Prior to shipping out to the Pacific he had spent time in Camp Adair, just north of Corvallis. After the war he returned to attend Oregon State. While attending OSU he met and married a local woman. He has a brother in law in Philomath, just outside of Corvallis. Bob invited me to spend the night. Not having slept in a real bed since leaving Corvallis, I readily accepted. The hot shower was nice too. After breakfast the next day we parted ways, having exchanged contact information.

Now, about the Sawtooths. Sawtooths is a good name for the range. They're quite jagged looking, reminiscent of the North Cascades, but even more jagged. The range is contained entirely within the Sawtooths Wilderness Area. The wilderness designation means that the Tooths are well preserved. By law, no man made structures (other than trails and trail signs) are allowed in the area. There are no prepared campsites, you just camp wherever looks like a good spot. The only way in is by foot or by stock (horse, mule, donkey). The marked trails are well maintained. The area runs 32 miles north to south and 20 miles east to west. It has 33 peaks which are over 10,000 ft in height. Unlike the North Cascades the Sawtooths don't appear to have any glaciers of significant size, no doubt a result of the drier climate. Although it's studded with alpine lakes and rivers the valleys in the Sawtooths aren't as gouged out and fjord-like as in the North Cascades. This makes access and movement within the area easier, at least relatively speaking. The rock is pink and gray granite. The summit routes span the range of difficulty, from walk-ups to aid climbs. Judging by the guidebook, some of the peaks have only been climbed using aid techniques. Many of the peaks certainly look quite formidable. Warbonnet Peak, which seemed to be one of the most difficult peaks in the area, is an overhanging blade of rock shaped like a shark fin. The guide book says that you can drop a rock from it's summit and not hear it hit anything for nine seconds.

I spent six days in the wilderness. My arrival late in the season meant that there was snow covering many of the peaks, but it wasn't as deep as in Glacier or the Canadian Rockies. It snowed a couple of the days I was out but the last two days I enjoyed completely clear weather. I attempted two peaks, reached the summit of one, and visited some of Bob's unmarked trails.

The climb up the peak which I didn't summit (Mt. Regan) reminded me of Oregon's Three Finger Jack or Mt. Washington. Most of it was a scramble up a ridge, with the most difficult part saved for the last few hundred feet on the summit block. After arriving at the base of the summit block I went up what I later realized was the wrong route. I kept going up until I got to the point where I didn't think I could make further moves up, much less downclimb. Probably I went further than I should have. The proximity of the summit had suckered me in. Downclimbing what I'd gone up proved to be rather nerve racking. The fight was on in my mind. Panic was a beast making lunges at it's prey, while calm was the sword which beat back the beast's thrusts. Mostly calm won out, but the beast had it's moments.

Upon reaching safer ground I pulled out the guide book and realized that I had misunderstood the route description. The described route continued around the east side of the summit block, traversing along an exposed ledge on the northeast face. The traverse was filled with snow and I had left my ice axe and crampons in the van. It was clear from the description that the route is normally exposed rock. I gingerly made my way along the traverse, not entirely sure of what was supporting me. At the end of the traverse it looked like the route went up into a shallow diagonal couloir, which was also filled with snow. After contemplating the matter for a good while I decided to abandon the attempt. The second peak was a walk in the park by comparison. The route was obvious and the most difficult section had no snow or ice on it. The photo at the top of this entry is Mt. Regan reflected in Sawtooth Lake on one of the sunny mornings. More Sawtooth photos are here.

The Sawtooths was another place I would have liked to stay at longer, but my food ran out and besides, I had to get to an Oregon DMV before my trip permit expired. I hope to return some day to visit Bob and the Sawtooths again.

Speaking of the van, I picked up permanent Oregon plates in Ontario, Oregon, just across the border from Idaho. They're mounted now. It's nice to have the DMV odyssey over with. The only outstanding item with respect to the van is the permanent Oregon title. Ann should be getting it in the mail within 30 days. I'll probably just have her carry it with her when we she flies down to visit in early December.

Ontario was an interesting place. To say the least, I'm sure its far from the top of anyone's list of "must see" destinations. Its main claim to fame would probably be it's plethora of agricultural processing factories. There were many Hispanics there. I almost felt like I was somewhere in Mexico. While at an auto parts store I met a Guatemalan fellow. He worked in an onion processing factory for $8.65 an hour. He said it would take three months of work in Guatemala to make what he makes in a day working in the US. He asked me where I lived and what my job was like. He thought that he had a pretty good job but I think he wanted to see if things were better where I was. I told him that I lived on the other side of the state, in Corvallis. He said that he stays away from that part of the state (referring, I think, to the Willamette Valley) because its less friendly to undocumented workers and he's afraid of being deported. His family is still in Guatemala and they are dependent on the money he sends home. He was looking forward to returning to Guatemala soon and seeing his family, apparently for the first time in two years. On his next trip to the US he plans to bring his son (who just turned 18) with him so he can work here as well. After I told him where I lived he no longer seemed interested in what my job was like. He probably wouldn't have believed what I would have said anyway. He thanked me for translating between him and and the store's clerk, shook my hand, then took off in a van (which was of a later model year than mine), saying that he needed to get back to work. The tacos I had for lunch were the best I'd had in a long time.

A 100x pay differential seems like a huge incentive to come to the US, despite the risks and hardships it entails. If I believed that I could make 100x my pay in Canada I wouldn't have to think too long about heading up there. Instead of working for 12 years to be able to afford a leave of absence it would only take six weeks.

I'm in Boise, Idaho right now. I need to pick up a few supplies, make some gear repairs, and do a little research. My next destination will likely be City of Rocks, a rock climbing area just north of the Utah border in Idaho. After that I'm not too certain of my path. I'll probably head to somewhere in Utah, but it depends on if and when Jeff will be coming to Moab in southeastern Utah.

Adios, Canada (Don't Shoot!)

Sadly, it's time to say adios to the friendly Canadians and their pretty parks. I would have liked to stay for another week to check out Mt Robson provincial park. However, the van's title is on it's way to a post office in Montana and the current permit expires in two weeks.

I could have easily spent the rest of the trip in the Canadian Rockies, despite the winter-like weather. I had to keep reminding myself that there are other places to see, each with their own unique attractions. Still, it's hard to leave. The Canadians I met seem to have a deep appreciation for the beauty of their land. There was the old fellow who visited the same campground in Yoho twenty two times last year, the woman who left Hawaii and returned to work as a hut keeper in her favorite park, and the couple who returned each year to the campground where the husband had proposed to his wife.

Initially I thought that the Canadian parks lacked a remoteness and a preservation ethic. The huts and lodges in otherwise remote areas plus the popularity of flying in to places by helicopter lead me to this. After looking at a road atlas of Canada, however, I realized that "remote" probably has a different meaning in Canada. There are areas in Canada larger than most American states which are devoid of towns, roads, or, so it seems, any other mark of humanity. If you really want to get away from it all you can always head to one of those places.

It's clear that climbers have had a strong influence on the Canadian Rockies. There are a multitude of alpine huts maintained by the Canadian Alpine Club. I learned that a century ago the Canadian Pacific railroad company had brought over European climbing guides in an effort to promote tourism in the area. Many of the peaks were first ascended by these guides and their wealthy European clients. The guides imported the hut system from the Alps, and it's carried over into modern times. The huts lend an air of safety to what can be a harsh environment. The huts also mean that you don't have to haul as much gear as you otherwise would. In contrast, alpine climbing in the US seems to have more of a "you're on your own" quality to it. There is an American Alpine Club but I never hear much about them. The European influence can also be seen in the common use of guides and the strict guide certification process. It's interesting how choices made a hundred years ago have lead to such a differentiation.

So much for such generalizations. After the van repair I went on a backpacking trip covering ground in two provincial parks and one national park (Banff). The highlight of the trip was the Magog Lake / Mt Assinboine area, seen in the picture at the top. A former park ranger and a climbing guide independently recommended visiting this place. It was a good recommendation. Out of all the places I visited in Canada on this trip I think this was my favorite. Mt Assinboine is about the same elevation as Mt Hood in Oregon. It's often referred to as the "Matterhorn of Canada" due to it's similar appearance to it's more famous counterpart. The hike in was something like 17 miles, but you can fly in by helicopter and stay at a lodge next to the lake if you prefer. I didn't climb the peak, but I did go up a nearby minor peak called Nob Peak, mostly for the views. I had brought along a xeroxed page out of a guidebook describing the routes on Assiniboine and hiked part of the approach. The most popular route is a moderately easy (5.5) technical rock route along a ridge. Apparently no glacier travel is involved. There is an alpine hut near the base of the route. The route description warns that the route is "much more difficult" when it is covered in snow, which was the case when I was there.

The outing wound up being a big loop through valleys, over passes, past lakes and other peaks. In the mornings or late afternoons I'd take short spur hikes to nearby lakes or peaks, leaving most of my load at camp. I utilized the proven "slow and fat" style, carrying a large brick of cheese, a salami log, crackers, a bag of mixed nuts / candy, and several apples for snacking. Despite my best efforts I had to cut another hole on my belt once I returned. Next time I'll have to bring a bucket of lard with me.

The most impressive wildlife of the Assiniboine trip were a couple of moose. I saw two, a male and a female, on separate days. I had always thought of a moose as a deer with different looking antlers. After seeing one at close range I realized that they are much larger than a deer. If a bounding box were drawn around the bull moose I saw it would have been at least as tall and wide as my van, and maybe 80% of its length. For sure, it's not an animal you would want to upset. Fortunately it's the mating season for them so he had other things on his mind. I took photos of the moose but the camera had trouble focusing. There were plenty of signs warning of grizzly bears, but I never saw any. I did see tracks for what I initially thought was a cat-like animal. Later I realized that the claw marks indicate that the animal was not a cat, since their claws are retracted when walking. Most likely it was a coyote. One night I heard a cry from some large animal. Whatever it was it didn't last long, and it didn't sound happy either. Photos from the trip can be found here. I also uploaded a couple of short videos. The first one is a pan from the slopes of Nob Peak. The second one is from an exposed ridge higher up. It was pretty windy.

Next on my list is Glacier National Park in Montana. After that I'll likely visit the Sawtooth range in Idaho. The van's title is in the mail. I'll be picking it up in Kalispell, Montana. Once I have it I'll need to retitle it in another state and then get permanent plates. I contacted the Oregon DMV state offices and it sounds like I can do this without having to go to Oregon, but it also sounds like a time consuming and complicated process. I'll see if I can get plates and a title in Montana or Idaho. If not I'll continue on to eastern Oregon and do it there. In any case, it looks like my multi state DMV tour will continue for at least a bit longer. The WRX has been sold. Thanks go out to my sales team, Jeff & Ann.

Okay, you've made it this far. Here's the story on the subtitle. The most convenient place for me to cross the border back into the US turned out to be a pretty remote border station. There was literally nothing other than the two border stations there. The nearest town, gas station, house, or anything was about an hour's drive away. I arrived late and from all appearances it looked to be closed. A simple metal gate prevented me from crossing over. There were no cars parked at either station. It would have been be very easy to just walk across. If there had been another vehicle on the other side of the gate it would have been a simple task to transfer guns, drugs, nuclear warheads, etc. over the border. So much for homeland security, I thought. I remembered seeing a sign a while back saying that the station was only open from 9 to 6. Okay, I figured, I'll just park here for the night and in the morning there'll be some people there. I had dinner and fell asleep.

I was woken up by a bright light outside the van. I was still trying to remember where I was and how I'd gotten there when I opened the side door. The first thing I noticed was a bright light. The next thing I noticed was a gun pointing at me. Someone in the direction of the light and the gun was repeating the words "Put your hands up!", each time with increasing urgency. Other than the light, it was very dark out, windy, and raining hard. It all seemed very surreal. Still half awake, I was thinking that this was likely a dream. I figured I'd play along. After putting my hands up I was told to lean forward and put my hands on side of the van. Then I got asked a bunch of questions. "Where are you from? Why are you here? What are you doing in Canada? What's your occupation? Where did you cross into Canada? Where are you going? Is anyone else in the van? Are you carrying any weapons?" He was pretty wound up. I think some of my answers confused him, since I didn't really know the answers myself. (Is an ice axe a weapon? Where is it that I was going? What is my occupation if I'm on a leave of absence?)

I don't think he ever really believed that I was a former engineering manager taking the long way to Mexico, but he eventually calmed down. He said something about smugglers, told me that the crossing was closed for the season, and "advised" me to head over to the next closest crossing further east. He said that it was open 24 hours a day. I had already been pulled over earlier that same day by another officer, so I figured I'd better leave Canada as soon as possible before doing something else that would upset the local authorities. I really didn't want to be banned from future entry into Canada. I decided to cross that same night. Of course, when I arrived at the next crossing it was also closed. I turned around and this time got further away from the border station before stopping for some much needed sleep. As I bedded down for the second time that night I thought to myself: "If I run into another Canadian cop again I'm going to have to change some of my habits." No one came by. The next morning I crossed over.

The Canadians must have related their experiences with me to the Americans, because they spent half an hour searching the van. Finding nothing of significance, and looking somewhat disappointed, they were forced to let me back in. They did take my apples and the remaining salami log, saying something about mad cow disease as they did so. Later I regretted not having asked if I could eat the apples and salami while I waited for them to finish searching the van.