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Once we settled into the idea that we would do a camping trip each year, then it just became of matter of figuring out where to go. We typically had a long weekend which limited how far we could get. I’m not sure which of us discovered there was a Northern Cascades National Park but I do know that it was something of a surprise to discover it existed. We had gone to a good number of the national parks in the western US on the Sequent trip, which had fostered a desire to go to them all. And it turned out we hadn’t been to the two closest ones (Crater Lake being the other. A problem we resolved on another trip).
Looking at the map we saw there was a nice loop we could take (perhaps by design) from just north of Seattle, across the Cascades to Wenatchee, then up the eastern side, and across back over through the park back to I-5. That seemed easy enough and the plan was set.
I naturally assumed we would rent another Explorer, it having become the vehicle of choice on the last two trips. But Les had a different idea. When he called to check prices he discovered that a Lincoln Continental was the same price and when you factored in the trunk space and back seat, had just as much room for gear as the Explorer, and better gas mileage to boot. Not to mention it would be much more comfortable to drive (the Explorer being built on a truck chassis). So ok, what the hell. We’ll go camping in a Lincoln Continental.
We headed up I-5 and it was clear from the get-go that the Lincoln was an excellent choice. A much smoother ride, more comfortable seats, much quieter and the best part, a dashboard control that let you adjust the driving “mode”. Being engineers we experimented with it (a lot) and in the end, we decided that “plush” mode was the most ideal. We discussed (but sadly never followed through) sending a letter to Ford and explaining that we had carefully analyzed and experimented with both their “camping vehicles” and found that, to our taste, the Lincoln was a much better choice than the Explorer. And perhaps they should adjust their advertising and positioning to recognize that fact.
It was fall (must have been October-ish) and as we headed into the mountains from Seattle, we saw an amazing array of fall leaf color. While the leaves do turn in Portland, it’s mostly just yellow and you don’t see the array of colors you do in say New England. But that was not the case in the Cascades. There were brilliant reds, orange and yellows and with the evergreens mixed in it was quite a show.
I don’t remember exactly how far we got the first day but I know we didn’t clear the mountains. Towards sunset we found a campsite that was near a mountain lake you could hike to. It was pretty much the exact distance we could walk, have a 5 minute look and get back before it got too dark to see. We decided to give it a shot. We of course had no flashlights.
Somewhere along the way, it began to rain. I’m pretty sure it hadn’t been raining already or I probably would have talked Les out of going. We got to the lake, which I don’t remember at all. There are no pictures, presumably because either it was too dark or too rainy or both. We spent a few minutes having a look and started heading back.
By this point, of course, it’s getting dark. And with being in the mountains, the sun set (in the sense of no longer providing light) earlier than you might expect. Certainly sooner than we expected. With the rain, it was darker still. The trail became harder and harder to see. The trees become indistinct shapes but generally you could still distinguish the trees from the trail. But there were moments were everything just faded out. It was very strange. Everything just became a uniform dark gray and you couldn’t resolve shapes or figure out where you were. You pretty much had to just stop in your tracks and wait for the world to reappear. We had been picking up the pace as this started to happen, getting very worried we wouldn’t make it to the car before we couldn’t see where we were going at all.
Just about the time when I was beginning to think we were going to have to crawl so as not to lose the path, the trees started breaking up and we made it to the parking lot! We taught ourselves a valuable lesson about being prepared on that hike. We took a moment to get our breathing back to normal and headed off to camp. One drawback of our excursion was our clothing was *soaked*. I hadn’t brought another pair of pants but luckily I had brought a pair of sweat pants which I ended up wearing the rest of the trip. I think Les just wore his until they dried.
The next day we continued through the mountains, passing through Leavenworth, a ‘Bavarian town’ nestled in the mountains. I had not heard of Leavenworth before this trip so it was a bit of a surprise. They take their “Bavarian-ness” pretty seriously with lots of liederhosen, german food, A-frame buildings and the like. It looked like it might be a fun place to stay,and Marion and I, many years later, finally did. (And found it a little bit creepy actually…)
We cleared the mountains at Wenatchee and turned north. The next stop was Lake Chelan, where it really feels like we spent the night but we couldn’t have. It would have been too soon in the day. We probably talked about it being a good place to stay someday. And I’m pretty sure we checked out the campsites so we’d have an idea what they were like (which may be why we feel like we stayed there). The lake is very long and thin. There’s a town, Stehekin, at the far end that is only reachable by boat (or I suppose by helicopter). There are day trips you can make out there. We thought it would be fun to do at some point, but not this trip. We haven’t made it back yet. But years later, in the Intel Digital Health Group, I worked on a project code named Stehekin (named for the town) and it brought back memories.
We continued up Hwy 97 to Hwy 20 where we turned back to the west and headed into the mountains again, ultimately reaching the National Park. Up until this point the mountains had been ‘as expected’ looking more like the mountains in Oregon along the coast range and the Cascades. That is to say, wooded and rounded, not tall,spikey and craggy. But the mountains in the park *were* tall, rocky and craggy. Very striking. And certainly worthy of National Park status.
We stopped at a few places, none that I specifically remember although I do remember stopping at what was likely a National Park headquarters or something where they had a 3D model of the park and it was very interesting to see the terrain. There are numerous mountains in the 9000 ft range and apparently a good chunk of all the glaciers in the lower 48 states. At one point we stopped and hiked into a small lake where the water was completely still and the reflections of the mountains and snow were interesting. We took a bunch of pictures there. But for whatever reason (likely because it was before we went digital) we didn’t get a whole lot of other pictures.
We stopped somewhere in the park to camp. I don’t remember where but I do remember we were visited by a number of ‘friendly’ birds who wanted to join us for dinner and breakfast. I also remember (and the pictures bear it out) that the weather was a bit chilly. I was eating breakfast wearing gloves.
The next morning we continued through the park stopping here and there for pictures, including the very odd/cool looking lake that was a deep green color.
The previous night around the campfire, we were thinking about what to do the next day. Looking at the map, we saw there was a scenic highway just over the border in Canada. It wasn’t far and we realized we could drive to the western end, take the road and cross back into the US at the eastern end and down Hwy 97 back home. This was pre-9/11 and passports weren’t required. Just a driver’s license, which we had. That seemed like as good an idea as any so we decided to do it. As it turns out, I don’t remember the scenic highway much. I assume it was pretty, or at least not ugly, but we had just driven through a pretty dramatic set of scenery and it didn’t really measure up.
What *was* memorable however was the crossing back into the US. We crossed back at what was not a major cross-border exchange (say, like on I-5) on Hw7 97 at Oroville. So presumably the border patrol was particularly wary. And I guess our story just didn’t really add up. Bear in mind we hadn’t showered in a few days, or shaved either. We looked (and no doubt smelled) a little fishy. The conversation went something like this:
– US citizens?
– Yes
– How long were you in Canada?
– Oh, a couple of hours
– A couple of hours? What were you doing there?
– We were camping and there was this scenic road on the map we wanted to drive on
– Uh huh. This your car?
– No, it’s a rental
– You were camping in a Lincoln Continental?
– Yes
– Were you hunting?
– No
– Do you have any guns?
– No
– What do you do for a living?
– We’re software engineers
– Did you buy or sell any software in Canada?
– No
– Do you have any guns?
– No
– You didn’t buy or sell any software in Canada?
– No
– Do you have any guns?
<Repeat the above 2 or 3 times>
– Step out of the car please…
They proceeded to inspect our care in minute detail, including mirrors underneath and pulling everything out. This did not make either one of us very happy as we were burning driving time and had quite a ways to go. But I could see that this little interaction had triggered Les’ “60’s” gene — the one where when “the man” hassles you like this, you protest and make a stink, declare your rights as an American and the like. He was starting to say things to the good folks at border patrol of a kind and tone that was getting their attention. I spent the next hour or possibly longer it took them to decide we were okay talking Les down from the kind of conversation that was going to cause us to spend the night and potentially include fairly invasive medical procedures.
The did finally decide, much to their dismay, that there was nothing they could hold us on and decided to let us go. I remain convinced that they believe we were up to no good and they were frustrated they couldn’t catch us at it. But in the 90’s, pre Patriot Act, there wasn’t much they could do so off we went.
Not too surprisingly, I don’t remember much of the drive home. Presumably down Hwy 97 all the way to Maryhill and back home via I-84 no doubt arriving quite late.
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