Seattle

I have to say, before arriving in Seattle my knowledge of the city was limited to pop-culture references and hipster innuendo. As we drove over one of the many bridges leading to the downtown core all I kept thinking was: "Seattle has ferry boats" a la this Meredith/Derek interaction from season one of Grey's Anatomy:

But Seattle is more than ferry boats, Starbucks and hipsters, I soon learned. It's the birthplace of the grunge movement. It's a city with sleek beaches and trails interwoven amongst an industrial hub. It's a city that sits on the edge of the Pacific to the west and in the shadow of Mount Rainier to the south.

Seattle is a place I'd like to return to.

During our morning in in the city we woke up early and wandered around art installations and vintage shops in Pioneer Square. For lunch we picked a rustic looking restaurant based on its red brick interior and craft beer selection and settled down for our last American meal - we'd catch the train to Vancouver a little after 7pm - and reminisced about the past couple weeks.

In the afternoon we headed to Kerry Park for sweeping views of the Seattle skyline, and then found our way to Pike Place Market (namesake of the famous Starbucks Pike coffee) for frozen yogurt and some relaxation time in the sun. By the time we caught the train to Vancouver, I was in love with every inch of Seattle I'd had the pleasure of glimpsing.

The train that evening was bittersweet - we laughed a lot, and joked about smuggling the remainders of our dried fruit and peanut butter over the USA-Canada boarder. We made friends with a family from England sitting in the rows across from us. We watched the ocean out the window on our left as the train thundered along northbound towards Vancouver.

As a Canadian, there's something inherently patriotic about returning North and crossing back to our home and native land. I think we all felt it that night - tired and blurry-eyed as we were - it was good to be home. I always cherish my first glimpse of the red maple leaf flag raised above the immigration check point, and smile quietly at the familiar accents and the common use of "eh" in conversations all around me.

However, we may have been back in Canada, but the adventure wasn't quite over. Not yet.

Next up: Vancouver and Whistler!

Red Woods National Park

Agape - Bear's Den

For I'm so scared of losing you
and I don't know what I can do about it
About it
So tell me how long love before you go
and leave me here on my own
I know it
I know it

I've listen to this song 68 times this past weekend. I know because iTunes keeps a running count. Even when I don't have my headphones in the lyrics keep rolling around in my head. I don't want to know who I am without you. I don't want to know who I am without you. It's become a mantra, an exhale, the soundtrack to my day-to-day. 

As I've been reminded (once or twice) I'm three blog posts short of summarizing the California road trip: Red Woods, Seattle and Vancouver are missing. While I lay in bed this morning in a half-drowsy state I counted backwards and realized that four weeks ago (to the day) I woke up in Red Woods National Park and shared a first kiss in the dim pre-dawn light. 

I've been feeling a little lost since coming home. California was a great climax of twenty-five... and what an adventure it was: 12 days, four friends, 1,500 miles. The world (or at least the west coast) was at our fingertips. Every night of the trip I went to bed (exhausted, sweaty and usually in need of a shower) with a huge smile on my face. The world felt so possible while we drove; and 25 felt so small compared to all the adventures out there still waiting for us.

I wish I could have bottled that feeling. 

After waking up in Red Woods we spent the whole next day driving almost 500 miles on the I-5 North to Seattle. It's a pretty, coastal drive through Oregon and Washington, full of hypothetical sand dunes, lush, green forests and mountain cliffs rimming the Pacific Ocean - always on our left. I remember sitting in the front seat (the only time I sat in the front seat) thinking I might burst from happiness. 

But I was sad too. 

Sad because the trip was almost at an end. I felt so connected to the world around me, and so close with my road trip companions. I worried it was all an apparition: we'd cross the boarder back to Canada, blink, and it would all be gone.

But that's not true, is it? The friendships are real. And the things we saw, the mountains we climbed, the kilometers we hiked, even the marine sanctuaries we threatened (figuratively, I swear): they were all real too. That's the thing about travel: it drives us outside our comfort zone, pushes us over the edge and challenges us to look inwardly - to learn about ourselves - even as we gaze outwardly at the beauty of the world around us. 

Alright, friends. Where to next?

P.S. I promise I'll continue with my recap. Next up: Seattle. The land of hipsters, ferry boats and Starbucks coffee.

San Fransisco

 

San Fransisco is a hard one for me to write about... there were so many highs and lows during our weekend in the city that's home to never-ending-hills, year-round-fog and the Golden Gate Bridge. We stayed in a hotel in the Bay Area, just outside San Fran in Palo Alto, CA - birthplace of tech giants like Facebook, Google and Pay Pal, and where Standford is located.

Our first night was spent wandering the streets after dinner - the sidewalks were bursting with students and PHD candidates and young families. We sat outside a frozen yogurt cafe and wondered how many of the people around us were millionaires (or future millionaires). It was a certain kind of magic, that's for sure, to be surrounded by such talent - you could almost feel it: like a buzz in the air.

The next morning we watched Fox News while we got ready. I know that sounds trivial, but it was such a high point for the four of us - sitting around the hotel room, laughing at the news anchor on TV as he stumbled over arguments and committed philosophical fallacy after philosophical fallacy. By that morning in San Fran we felt like a family - like a unit that thought and acted and ate as one.

So maybe that's why we had a rough day, following that blissful morning. We were all so close, and had been for a week. And it was windy in San Fran, and cold - too cold for August. We walked along the shoreline, went to the famous arcade a la The Princess Diaries, saw Alcatraz from afar and touched the Golden Gate Bridge. Don't get me wrong, it was an amazing day. But by the time we wandered Chinatown that afternoon, and ate Italian for dinner, it was clear that a good nights sleep was needed by all.

Looking back on San Fran, I have a lot of mixed emotions. What a beautiful city to be a tourist in, I kept thinking as we walked the streets. But I can't imagine living there, I can't imagine calling it home. And maybe we were still on the comedown from Clouds Rest: maybe it was inevitable that whatever came next wouldn't fill the epic void Yosemite had left inside us. And I think that's okay. San Fransisco, you didn't steal my heart, but you're beautiful all the same.

Yosemite

“Yosemite Valley, to me, is always a sunrise, a glitter of green and golden wonder in a vast edifice of stone and space.”
― Ansel Adams

Around four thirty in the afternoon, after a twelve kilometers hike over three hours and 1,776 feet in elevation gained, we stood on top of the world: Clouds Rest, Yosemite Valley. It's hard to describe how we felt when we finally made it to the summit. After a late start to the day (for a combination of reasons, but I've been told my campfire-hotdog-craving may have contributed) the hike to Clouds Rest felt like a race against the sun. I remember checking my watch obsessively, trying to calculate our pace against the number of daylight hours remaining. The hike was out-and-back, and I wasn't keen to navigate a mile of switchbacks in the dark.

Clouds Rest is a four-part trail: part one is a gentle two mile hike through the Tenaya Lake valley. Part two is a tortuous series of switchbacks covering a thousand feet of elevation gain in a mile, leading at the summit to the Sunrise Lakes trail fork. After a brief descent, part three consists of a few miles through another wooded valley, passing a lake along the way.

Part four is the ascent of Clouds Rest itself: reaching 9,926 feet (with a touch of altitude sickness for good measure) we were driven up the final, brutal stretch by a rush of adrenaline and an unwillingness to quit. The top of Clouds Rest is a narrow ledge, with a long, sheer drop off. Terrifying? Yes. But absolutely worth it. The summit gives way to a 360-view of Yosemite Valley, overlooking the famous Half Dome to the south.

We stayed at the summit for nearly an hour, just relishing in the view and how it felt to be there, in that moment, with the mountains and the treeline in the distance. Eventually though, we retraced our steps back down. The hike back is a blur... I think we were all a little off from the altitude. You enter this kind of time-warp when hiking, where all that matters is putting one foot in front of another. We made it back to the trail head right as the sun set below the horizon and dusk settled around us.

That night we collapsed: dirty, sweaty and exhausted into sleeping bags, huddled together under the stars. I was physically drained, every inch of my body ached. But as I lay there I remember feeling so full, like I was going to burst with happiness and awe, because of what we'd done. As Ansel Adams said, to me, Yosemite will always be a sunrise, a glitter of green and golden wonder; a feeling I'm going to chase for years to come.

Santa Cruz Island

Santa Cruz Island, the largest island in Channel Islands National Park, is located off the coast of California. We boarded a ferry in Ventura, CA early in the morning and spent the 1-hour boat ride whale watching, gawking at dolphins, and toasting breakfast beers to my birthday. After a bit of a rocky start transporting our gear from the dock to the campsite, we set up our tents, stored our food and picked a trail to explore.

The 3.5 mile hike to Smugglers Cove is mostly a blur. The birthday beers on the boat hit me a bit too hard, and I remember sweltering in the midday heat. When we finally reached the rocky beach at Smugglers Cove, I think we were all eager to put on our bathing suits and play in the waves of the Pacific Ocean.

When I look back on my twenty-fifth birthday, I'll remember spending it with three friends on a tiny spot of land in the Pacific. No cell reception, no running water: just miles of trails to hike, oceanfront to explore and hours of giggling around the campsite (and later in our tent) after the sun went down. I couldn't have asked for a better way to spend the day.

Los Angeles

"Space may be the final frontier but it's made in a Hollywood basement"
- Red Hot Chili Peppers

By the time we arrived in Los Angeles, we were hot, dusty and all in desperate need of a shower. The desert had worn us down, but the figurative (and literal) lights of LA ushered us onward.

The first thing we did was hike the Hollywood hills - up towards the iconic Hollywood sign. Cliche? Yes. But in a way I think we were all feeling a little jaded, and the sign and the hills somehow verified that we were really there. It was a hot hike: we left our hydration packs in the car and by the time we reached the summit I was sunburned and thirsty. But the view over LA made it worth it. What a sprawling city - glittering in the midday sun it seemed to go on for miles in every direction.

That night we got dressed up and headed to Venice Beach in Santa Monica. It was the last night of my twenty-fourth year and I couldn't have dreamed of a better way to spend it. We walked along the beach in bare feet - I dipped my feet in the Pacific Ocean for the first time. As the sun set over the water we settled onto a patio on the boardwalk - the Venice Beach Ale House - and toasted to birthdays, travel and adventure.

The next day I woke up in Hollywood.

Joshua Tree

I recently returned from a two week road trip along the west coast. Three friends and I rented a car in San Diego and headed north for miles and miles. We camped in national parks, blew through coastal cities, hiked mountains, ate too much trail mix and loved every second of it. The trip encompassed too much for me to tackle it in a single post, so I've decided to split it up into eight chapters: Joshua Tree, LA, Santa Cruz, Yosemite, San Fransisco, Red Woods, Seattle and Vancouver.

So first, Joshua Tree:

“One time I saw a tiny Joshua tree sapling growing not too far from the old tree. I wanted to dig it up and replant it near our house. I told Mom that I would protect it from the wind and water it every day so that it could grow nice and tall and straight. Mom frowned at me. "You'd be destroying what makes it special," she said. "It's the Joshua tree's struggle that gives it its beauty.”
― Jeannette Walls, The Glass Castle

Joshua Tree National Park is located in south-eastern California where the Mojave and Colorado deserts meet, creating a unique ecosystem where Joshua Trees grow in groves surrounded by a stark, barren terrain. I remember starring out the window in wonder as we entered the park: the landscape was a deep contrast to anything I'd previously experienced then or since.

We arrived at Jumbo Rocks Campground in the early afternoon heat on a Saturday afternoon. We were buzzing with anticipation and barely-caged enthusiasm - we'd made it to stop number one! However, just a few minutes later while we were setting up our tents the climate became overwhelming. This is probably obvious, but, I wouldn't recommend visiting the desert in mid-August. As the sun climbed higher in the sky the temperature swelled to over forty degrees - a dry heat that leaves your skin cracked and evaporates the sweat off your back and your neck before it can even pool.

We spent two full days there: waking early and exploring the many trails and climbing routes before the sun had reached its full assault. And then, from noon until 4pm we lazied around the campsite, crouching under make shift tarps for shade, and dozing in the sun. Once the sun sank towards the horizon the temperature became tolerable again, and we'd head out with hydration packs of water and pockets full of salty snacks, eager to test our wits on the boulder-ridden terrain.

And then finally the sun would set and the temperature would cool and the sky would erupt into a glittering, inky abyss. The four of us sat around the campfire and stared at the stars - they just went on and on - (more stars than you can usually see in a moon cycle in the city) and counted shooting stars as they whizzed passed our peripheral vision. 

And the way the Milky Way ran right through them, like a river of fairy dust sweeping north to south across the sky - that's a sight I won't forget.