From the Mind of Trevor Stone

I spent several weeks in June and July on a road trip to California and back. Covid uncertainty means "drive around and camp" has significant advantages over "fly and hotels." If you get sick before you leave, cancelation is releasing a couple campsites and you get to save money on gas. If you get sick while traveling you can either sit in a camp chair in the woods feeling lousy for a few days or drive home early. So last year I decided to visit my brother and a friend on the west coast and check out the Fourth of Juplaya, an annual event where a bunch of Burners go to the Black Rock Desert and do things you can't do at Burning Man.

This year my sister-in-law suggested we take my nephew on his first camping trip. In mid-February I booked what I think was the last available coastal campsite between the Bay Area and Mendocino County for the last week of June, which feels like one of the more absurd facets of modern life. "What will the weather be like in five months? Will we still feel like going there? Does our tent even fit? I hope that part of California won't have burned down by the time we get there."

Plans didn't change, so we headed westward as planned. We stayed the first night in an old hippy bus at Mystic Hot Springs, where we had to book a 2-hour soaking window in advance. This felt like an even more absurd aspect of modern life. "Schedule your bath time weeks in advance!" We spent the following night at a campsite outside Mammoth Lakes, which I was glad to see could be reserved on a Sunday night with just a few days notice. Driving through Yosemite before 4pm also requires an advance timeslot booking. These were sold out, but we had a grand ol' time dawdling at Mono Lake and the Upside Down House and Mono Basin museum that we cruised up Tioga Road at a leisurely pace in the late afternoon.

We spent a few days with two friends, two kids, and two cats in too-hot Fresno. We made paintings, cut solstice decorations out of construction paper, went swimming, played monsters for kids to attack, and ate garden-fresh produce. I think these kids will be alright. Then off to the Bay Area, hugging a bag of ice across the Central Valley because my car's AC wasn't working. In San Jose we tried to help with the chaos of a toddler, an anxious dog, and two working parents, with perhaps a modicum of success. I also led a Colorado congressional lobby meeting from a California back yard.

Salt Point State Park didn't burn down in the five months since making a reservation. I discovered that our site had a large tree stump in the middle, making the placement of our 10'x14' canvas tent that must be staked down lest it fall on your head a tight dance of geometry. The weekend was overcast and misty, as Northern California is wont to do, a welcome reprise from the 100° in the rest of the west. Our nephew had a grand time playing with trucks in the dirt and pushing his dump truck up and down the trails. My Mendocino County friends came down for a day with their toddler who was born the same week in 2019. The boys played quite well together, considering more than half their lives has been in the age of Safer At Home. I set up my ham radio and tried to join in on the fun of ARRL Field Day, but the only good tree options had my antenna running north-south and thus sending peak power west across the ocean or east right into the Coastal Range. I managed to make all of one successful contact; a few other folks in the Pacific Northwest could hear snippets but couldn't get my full callsign.

As I took the scenic California Highway 1 home a Point Reyes National Seashore police officer pulled me over and told me he was impressed that my license plate had been on my car so long that the letters had faded to the point of illegibility. I'd always assumed this was dirt that I didn't bother cleaning off, but upon later inspection I noticed that that the paint on the plate was starting to peel off. He told me to get replacement plates when I got back home but (foreshadowing) I don't actually need to worry about that problem.

Kelly flew home after the camping weekend to get back to work while I headed east towards the desert with my car and all our stuff. I opted to cross the Sierra Nevadas on highway 108, a lovely drive with a great overlook of Donnell Lake and a Stanislaus River valley. I spent the night at Buckeye Campground which had plenty of no-reservation-required campsites, probably on account of it being a Wednesday. I had significantly more luck with my ham radio setup, thanks to some fortunate band conditions. I talked to a guy in Mozambique via the gray line on 40 meters and a guy in France on 20 meters which is normally a "daytime band." In the morning I made some more Parks on the Air contacts, this time just in the U.S. The camp host noticed my setup and chatted for a bit, noting that another camper had also set up a ham radio antenna the previous night. I met him a little later, and then a third ham in the campground who didn't have an HF antenna up (he was fishing for Parks In The Water rather than broadcasting for Parks On The Air, I suppose). I then headed a couple miles downstream to Buckeye Hot Spring where I met two more ham operators and enjoyed a great soak. Buckeye might be the best side-of-a-cold-river hot springs I've had the chance to enjoy. I also checked out the nearby Travertine Hot Spring in its colorful geologic splendor.

Stay tuned for part two, where things stop going according to plan.

Speaking of having a life, I'm thinking about camping at Valley View Hot Springs next weekend (May 3rd and 4th, one night stay). Anyone interested in joining? Forecast highs are near 60, lows in the mid- to upper-20s, so you'll want a decent sleeping bag or a reservation for one of the dorm beds.

The weekend focused around rafting the Colorado with several of my coworkers. The Feuchts own several rafts and like taking groups, so we were happy to oblige.

I headed west from Work on Friday night and got to Pumphouse, our designated Saturday morning meeting place, at around 9 (significantly after dark). I walked around and didn't see a place to camp, so I headed down to Radium. That looked like it had a few places one could camp, but I was worried about (a) the sign stating one needed a wildlife stamp and (b) the raucous group near where I'd be. So I drove back to Pumphouse figuring I'd sleep in the back of the Subaru. Upon arrival, I found that someone had claimed a camping site but was sleeping that night at the group site, so up went my tent in the dark.

Unlike everyone who carpooled from Lakewood at 6:30, I woke up at 8:30 (not counting the several trains that went by in the night). Pumphouse to Rancho del Rio is a very casual stretch of the Colorado River, especially in fall. Highlights included water fights, cliff jumping (in which I didn't participate), and a relaxing (naked) soak in Radium Hot Springs right on the river. Back at the Feuchts' we constructed burgers, ate corn, and played croquet in the dark. I slept in my sleeping bag on my cot on the driveway (to avoid early sun) under the stars. I didn't wake up at 5 to watch the meteor shower, and I'm okay with that.

On Sunday we rafted from Shoshone to Two Rivers (Glenwood Springs). This stretch has a lot more rapids, but we handled them without trouble. A lot of folks were on the river, catching the Labor Day summer bookend. We stopped to soak in a hot spring outside Glenwood which is only above water seasonally. Not wanting to offend random travelers on I-70 and the hordes of Bud Light Drinkers that docked, I kept my suit on for that. Having stayed upright in the raft for two days (no dunking here), I decided to overcome my dislike of water in the face and poor swimming skills to float the last (half?) mile in the river. Aside from a few rock scrapes when I jumped in, the experience was quite pleasurable. Maybe next summer I'll go tubing a bunch.

After a brain freeze courtesy Dairy Queen, I sallied north to Steamboat Springs. My casual driving pace and map confusion in town led me to Strawberry Hot Springs about 10 minutes after they closed admission. The guy at the window let two folks in, but I didn't want to pay $10 for less than an hour of springing, so I set out to find a place to camp. Being Sunday night of Labor Day weekend, the Routt National Forest campground (toward Buffalo Pass) was naturally full, so I decided to look for a big box retailer who wouldn't mind a guy sleeping in a Subaru. Steamboat discourages "formula stores" from downtown and I didn't know how to get to any other part of town, but I found an empty parking lot with (in ascending order of importance) four baseball fields and a soccer field or two, no "No Overnight Camping" sign, an unlocked bathroom. I parked in what looked like it might be shade, flipped the back seat down, laid out the cot, and settled down for a somewhat restful night of urban camping.

I woke up a few hours before the springs opened, so I went for a hike in Routt National Forest. Maybe I should take more early morning hikes: there's much prettier lighting for photographs (forthcoming). Strawberry Hot Springs were fabulous. At least nine pools and tubs contain varying measures of hot spring water and cool river water so one can heat up, cool down, rinse, and repeat. The water and and infrastructure are on par with Valley View. Since Steamboat Springs is a tourist town, Strawberry had a lot more people than Valley View typically has (though I don't know how busy it was this Labor Day). I heard families speaking in Italian, Japanese, Spanish, and English, which is a flavor I haven't tasted at Valley View. The communal aspect felt absent, though. The magic of VVHS is often found by striking up conversations with strangers in a pool, but everybody at Strawberry seemed to keep to themselves. Oh, and Strawberry requires swimwear during daylight hours. Have I mentioned I dislike swimsuits? They take way longer to dry than skin, provide drag in the water, and just call attention to the fact that your genitalia isn't visible.

After lots of heat and probably not enough water consumption I drove down the hill thinking about the Pho restaurant I'd seen in town. Unfortunately, they were closed for the holiday (what tourist town restaurant closes on holidays?) but the coffee shop hooked me up with a hydrating smoothie.

On the way home, I decided the scenic route would be preferable to sitting in holiday traffic on I-70, so I drove through North Park, Medicine Bow, and Cache la Poudre. North Park is even more desolate (but perhaps hillier) than its better-known southern cousin. The Jackson County seat, Walden, sports "The Moose Watching Capital of Colorado" on its welcome sign. Really, it felt like southern Wyoming draping its leg over the edge of the bed. The Medicine Bow range decided to welcome me back to the Atlantic basin with an intense but pleasant downpour. There are lots of good hiding places for powder along CO-14 in Larimer County. There's also an impressive number of national forest campgrounds. I'm surprised I haven't been up there before.

Speaking of scenic Larimer County, I bet there's still room at MeadowFest this coming weekend. Drumming, dancing, and great people will be in abundance.

Ideas I had this weekend:

A T-shirt with Colorado's outline and a bunch of landmarks with elevations. 14'ers, Leadville, Conundrum Hot Springs, major river paths, several points on the Continental Divide, and other Colorado points of note as well as some low points of note in other states: Burlington, CO is higher than the highest point in Kansas ("Mount" Sunflower), which is within a couple miles of the border. Oklahoma and Nebraska's highest points are also close to the Colorado line. Above the picture is some stylized "Colorado." Below the picture is the caption "It's all downhill from here."

A Creative Commons-licensed T-shirt on print-to-order websites with the phrase "Free Hugs" written in many languages. Perfect for travel through international airports.

I can float for extended periods if I wear flip flops to keep my feet up. I can also float downstream without trouble if I wear a life jacket.

On the way home, Radio 1190 mentioned a show at Rhinoceropolis and I thought of tamheals. How can you go wrong with a name like that?

Note to self: a chopping knife and biodegradable dish soap should be added to the camp cookware bag.