Hot Spring Salvation

One thing we learned from our time in Portland is to never trust the weather. If it called for any rain in the forecast, expect it to rain on and off all day (ignore the time predictions) and also possibly be sunny while it is raining on you. If it says it will be sunny, it is lying. It made it tricky to plan for our trip to the coast, but huzzah! We got lucky and had a beautiful sunny weekend. On our way there we stopped to climb Saddle Mountain, near the summit in the distance could even see the ocean.

Spore packets on the underside of a fern frond

 

Can you spot the ocean?

After our hike the sun was setting as we approached the coast. We ate dinner at a local pizza joint in Cannon Beach and drove around town agonizing on where to park overnight- we ended up settling for an empty parking lot next to the ocean in the town of Seaside (I was worried if we parked on the actual beach we would be washed away by the tide in the morning). We unpacked all our blankets, pillows, sleeping bags and created a nest in the back of the truck at went to bed at 8pm. At dawn we crawled out of our cave and hiked down to see the beach.

We packed everything up and headed to Ecola State Park (named from the Chinook word for whale, "ekoli") and cooked up some oatmeal on the tailgate, watching the sun come over the trees. The hike was gorgeous with a mix of mystical cool forests and gasping glimpses of the water. We even got to explore tide pools! After the hike we enjoyed an almost cold beer from our growler on the tailgate, enjoying the view and soaking up sunshine.

Life in Oregon was beautiful and fun with its mossy trees, hiking trails, breweries, and food scene. But it also came with it's own set of personal obstacles. The first time we went into Portland my entire bin of clothes were stolen out of the back of the truck, along with Reilly's empty guitar case. It was mostly a sentimental loss for me, those were my old classics that fit me the best and were my favorite pieces of clothing. I still had all my work clothes, my jackets, etc. at the farm, so I had enough to wear. It just felt icky and frustrating to be stolen from, and was a big inconvenience.

Another tough obstacles was in last week we were at the farm, the water stopped working in our little camper. Imagine working in the rain, walking through manure, covered in god-knows-what and not being able to take a hot shower at the end of the day. Several days went by and we decided to make the trek to the Bagby Hot Springs.

Log bathtub

It was about a two hour drive through windy mountain roads into a national forest. At the trailhead there was a long hike through magical trees leading up to a row of wooden shacks on stilts. Similar to roman aquaducts, the steamy hot water was delivered to each shack in a long trough. You remove a stick plug in the trough and spring water pours into your hollowed-out-log bathtub. The water is much too hot for soaking right away, so you mix it with buckets of cold water to get it to the right temperature. It was heavenly.

At the farm, I will miss the sheep the most. I became too attached and don't think I'll be able to eat lamb chops for a long long time. It was a great experience at Moomaw Family Farm, but the cold is chasing us south- and that's where we must go!

Oregon At Last, Meat the Animals

Oregon At Last

The rest of the journey to Oregon was longer and much colder than we had expected. Thanks to generous traveling funds provided by friends and family, we were able to stay at a couple hotels after nerve-racking snowy mountain drives in the dark. Determined to camp despite the 20 degree cold, one night we found ourselves sleeping in the back of the truck in a sketchy park in the outskirts of Idaho Falls. By morning the condensation from our breath (despite both the topper windows being open!) had deflated my cozy down sleeping bag into a limp moist sack. I shivered in the darkness waiting for dawn, listening to trains rattling past us. Morning finally broke over the industrial landscape, we packed up quickly, brushed our teeth at a gas station, ate cereal off the tailgate, and twelve hours of driving later we finally pulled into Bend, Oregon. 

Snowy mountain pass, WY

I had always heard rumors that Bend is a great place to visit. It's a historic logging town, and reminded me of my hometown Stillwater, MN. There is a quaint river park, a downtown with shops (including an awesome candy store) and it was fun to finally explore a bit and discover what the hype was about. The highlights were Drake Park and Smith Rock State Park, just a half hour north from Bend.

Drake Park, Bend OR


Smith Rock State Park, Terrebonne OR

Meat the Animals 

On Sunday afternoon November 8th we arrived at Moomaw Family Farm in Oregon City, 10 miles from Portland. Amanda and Nathan Moomaw showed us the tiny trailer we would be living in and let us settle in while they finished the chores for the day. The camper is exactly 3 1/2 paces long (according to Reilly's stride) and has a distinct groovy vibe. 

Our tiny home

They stocked the pantry full of organic grains, whole milk, eggs, cheese, bread, homegrown meat, and some veggies. Usually at WWOOF farm stays, the hosts are expected to prepare meals for their volunteers. We have a bit more independent arrangement where they provide the ingredients, and we cook all our meals for ourselves. Good thing we know how to cook!

Collards & Bacon

The only downside to our little abode, is that the toilet is not hooked up to a sewage system. This means traveling through the rain out to the "composting" toilet which is a plywood hut with a wooden seat hovering over a rubbermaid bin. At first, I imagined a pit toilet, which is at most state parks or camping sites. I was wrong. It's very up close and personal. Our outhouse rules are as follows, "Use toilet as normal. Paper goes in as normal. Use wood shavings to flush." We must empty the bin when it becomes full into the compost pile. I was grossed out at first, but now after shoveling sheep shit for three days, poop doesn't bother me as much anymore. It's basically just a few steps away from soil, right?

Haley mucking poo

My unexpected favorite animal here is the sheep. It's mostly due to Franklin, The Chosen One, who has been allowed to live for 3 years. He follows humans around, has a collar, and is very affectionate and mischievous. Here he is pictured after stealing my hazelnut bucket:

Franklin the bucket head

They also raise rabbits, pigs, and chickens. Our daily responsibilities are to keep everyone fed and watered, along with the occasional mucking. The pigs follow you around and act like dogs with giant floppy ears, the rabbits are actually pretty cute, and the chickens are fun to catch.

I caught one!

Baby bunny

I really love it here so far taking care of the animals and reading books in our little trailer. Being on the road was rough, and it feels nice to have a place to settle down for a while- but in the depths of my soul there will always be a tug to keep moving. I am happy to call Oregon our home for now, and am excited to get into the actual city of Portland to explore. Crossing my fingers that the rain will give us a little break for a visit to the beach soon!

xo

haley

Waking up to Buffalo

One week ago we turned in the keys to our Minneapolis apartment, and in that moment Reilly's truck became our new home. It was stressful in the days leading up to that transaction trying to figure out what we would need for an everlasting journey, while also trying to finish the last week of work, and simultaneously moving out. We had way too many material possessions and could barely fit every thing into the truck.

Spending time with Reilly's family in Iowa was just the transition time we needed to shed several boxes of stuff before setting out for the West (not to mention a wonderful time as always of great food, love, and story telling).

Sunset at the Old School

On Tuesday November 3rd, with a giant bag of Grandma's homemade cookies we set out for the great unknown. The stretching endless monotony of South Dakota was lulling me to sleep with its black cattle dots grazing when I was shocked out of my seat by the sight of the Badlands. When we got closer we got out of the car to take a look, the formations reminded me of swallow nests or termite mounds, impressive melting mud piles.

We saw all sorts of wildlife on our way through South Dakota; prairie dogs, mule deer, coyote... but none compare to the great buffalo. After the glorious prairie sunset as we were searching for our campsite for the night, we saw one laying in the grass in the twilight. We mistook it for cattle at first- but we were jumping up in down in our seats when we realized its true identity. It was the first time either of us had seen a buffalo in the wild! As we drove further down the gravel road to our campsite,  the landscape opened up and revealed an entire herd grazing just a half mile from our truck. 

We were relieved to see several other campers as we pulled into our free campsite, at least we humans would be together if anything happened. Cooking our mac n' cheese for dinner, a pack of coyotes starting singing behind us, another pack to our left picked up the song, and a couple to our right joined in. We were surrounded, and they sounded closer than I have ever heard. We noticed as we set up our tent that the ground was scattered with dinner-plate-sized buffalo pies and massive hoof prints.

After a long night of howling prairie winds and me yelling "Git!" at footsteps I thought were coyotes (but were probably just innocent people walking to the restroom) we woke inside a misty cloud with buffalo roaming in our campsite. We stared at them in awe for a long while, but when they started wandering in our direction we quickly packed up and began breakfast on the tailgate.

As we left our island of wilderness, I thought about how waking up to the buffalo awakened my spirit out of a strange slumber. It's good to be genuinely scared sometimes, and to witness the great strength and power of nature. It made me feel vulnerable, but at the same time grateful for the beauty of life. 

xo

haley