Children's Bicycles and the Princess

Continuing our little electronic scrapbook: it reminds me of scrapbooks I made when I was a kid, stuffed with black and white photographs held down by black paper corners, along with brochures, sometimes whole books, maps, and ticket stubs I collected on our trips. No brochures here, but maybe some links that in a little time will not link. After this narration, there should be three photoshows. The first is pictures from the 4th of July, when the boys joined a parade on training wheels and a tricycle. The last is pictures from our recent trip. In between are pictures Ariel sent over three or four emails that went out to many people. I don't include her comments from her emails or all of the pictures, but generally they show some of her mountaineering trips and then her bicycle trek from Fairbanks, through the Yukon and British Columbia, to the ferry at Haines. In all, some 700 miles of scenery, gravel, wind, bears and a few good souls. She took the ferry to Juneau to my brother's family and then returned with her cousins to Wasilla. From there, she biked up to Fairbanks and is now safely at home, waiting for Chris to return from training. Chris will be deployed soon to Iraq and Ariel will return, at least briefly, to New Mexico, before beginning some new adventure in her developing career. God speed, Chris.

I enjoy driving our Durango on road trips. I like the room. I've been working on a story that begins with a family returning from a trip. It's the literary stream of consciousness that I enjoy--the scenery constantly unfolding in front of you and the luxury, so rare it is now, of having so much time for an internal dialogue, jumping from one thing to another, sorting through things, while surrounded by the music on the radio and my family. Cyndi sits beside me, plugged into her i-pod, a new book or magazine on her lap, closing her eyes, meditating. The boys are in the middle row, with a DVD player sitting between them. Rylee watches the show and then drifts into his own little imaginary world. He can entertain himself. Jackson, on the other hand, wants to be entertained or to entertain others. He measures the trip in units of recorded Disney Playhouse episodes. A destination may be only a movie away.

Cyndi wanted to get a head start on our little trip, so we left Wednesday night to get in a few miles before stopping. We filled up the tank for about $100 and we got remarkably good mileage for an SUV. I didn't want to stay overnight in Gallup or Holbrook or Winslow or even Flagstaff. (I'm not crazy about Flagstaff as a destination, but the university there has a fabulous NPR station that covers the entire width of northern Arizona.) I remembered that Window Rock was only about 20 miles outside of Gallup and there was a respectable motel and restaurant there.

Just before Gallup there is a truck stop I have always stopped at, but it seems to be getting run down. I put some gas in the tank, which would take us all the way to Phoenix from that point. I bought some milks and snacks, and it came to $6.66, the number of the beast in Revelations, and "the number of a man." The former number for the highway going north from Gallup, which is used to get to Window Rock, was 666, a tributary of the old Highway 66. It's fun stuff, but you never know.

We got a very nice rate for the motel in Window Rock, and the people were so kind despite our rambunctious boys jumping up and down in the booth after our drive. The evening was beautiful and cool. Our stay there included a good breakfast in the morning.

The next morning we started early. Our plan was to get to Sedona early enough to spend the day there. But before leaving the Navajo Nation, we visited the Window Rock in the administrative area. Then it was a very short drive to St. Michael's and south from there to get back on I-40. The drive on the country highway through the reservation was beautiful--a good road, light traffic, horses on the shoulder, hogans and sheep corrals, fields of green sage, forests of Ponderosa.

An easy detour in all. We arrived too late and left too early to visit the arts & crafts market next door. On other trips with Ariel and Sarah, we visited the Hopi lands farther west and Canyon de Chelly slightly north and west from Window Rock. We saw a powwow at the fairgrounds, the men drumming, the women dancing in the long skirts that swished and jingled. I was a guest in Window Rock one summer during law school and ran in the canyon behind the Window Rock. I have a coyote story based on one of my runs. (Another coyote story is based on an encounter with a skunk in La Cienega, outside Santa Fe.)

We were on the freeway again. Arizona, but not the Navajo Nation, was on Pacific time that day, so we gained an hour. It was early enough to listen to Morning Edition on the radio, heading west toward Flagstaff. There's a stop I always take. It's exit 311 or 331, I always forget, but it's the Petrified Forest National Park/Painted Desert exit. As you approach it in either direction, there's nothing but desert expanse and a few petrified logs, but you can see a little oasis of living trees on a hill on the north side of the freeway. It can't be more than a quarter of a mile off the freeway exit. There's a Harvey House restaurant (you can plan on a good breakfast there once the gate opens in the morning) with a gift shop, a museum staffed with helpful rangers, plenty of clean bathrooms, a gas station with a tiny grocery store, and plenty of space to walk around or picnic. I noticed for the first time that trucks aren't allowed off the exit, which, along with its isolation, makes it a pleasant stop. Not your typical roadside attraction, tourist trap, truck stop, or rest area.

We took the highway south out of Flagstaff to Phoenix and then, almost immediately, the exit to Sedona. Right off the exit is Jackson's Grill, so we stopped for a picture. I have heard that it is a good restaurant but didn't know it was so accessible. The road enters forest and then winds down into the canyon until you reach the river. In the distance, you can begin to see the red buttes of Sedona.

We had made several plans. We had been to Sedona before and gone to the charming Tlaquepaque, with its dining and shopping. We also saw a concert one evening in an open-air amphitheater. There's good places to eat, a vortex or two to find, and lots of scenic hiking and mountain biking trails. I was determined, at least, to stop at Slide Rock, which is about 8 miles before Sedona.

Slide Rock is a great place. It's a state park with a small fee for the day. Very clean, very maintained. A small parking lot. We got there about 10ish and the lot was almost full. I could tell that only a few more would get in without an excruciating wait. From the lot it's a relatively short walk past restrooms to change in and a small store. We climbed down the stairs to the river.

The river, shallow for the most part, flows over a bed of solid, and very slick, rock. We tried wading across at the bottom of the stairs, just atop a small waterfall, to find shade on the other side. That was tricky and, as we discovered later, unnecessary because there's a little bridge part way up the river. As we crossed we looked upstream. There must have been hundreds of people in the canyon, mostly small children and their parents. Some were sitting in pools, some sliding in the rush of water, some jumping off a ledge into a pool, and others just walking around or sitting along the rocky banks. Jackson rushed ahead while Rylee and I sat on the bridge, climbed over small rocks, and waded in the shallow pools. Cyndi went after Jack.

The spot Jackson found was a long and wild natural slide. The water rushed through a narrow chute. Jackson and I went together the first time. My butt was a bit wider than the chute, so it was a struggle for me to slide. Meanwhile, other children would easily slide by, skimming on top of the wet rock, some on their bellies. And just as I would slip through the chute, the water would dump me into a little pool and quickly carry me to the next bit of narrow chute. That was the real thrill. Jack loved it.

At one point, I was standing on the slippery rock next to the chute and was about to help Jackson up when in one split second, with no chance to correct myself, I went from a standing position to my belly. Cyndi was alarmed. Did I break any teeth? Jackson was the first to start laughing when it was immediately apparent that I was perfectly okay. Cyndi started laughing, too. And Ry, who always manages to appreciate any attempt at humor, laughed along with them. I even laughed.

It reminded me of a time in Panama. David, a friend of ours, and I were swinging on long vines in the jungle across the street from our house. We'd lug the vine up the steep hill and then swing out through the jungle. Each time, the vine became muddier until I had another turn. As the vine reached the opposite arc of its swing, I slid right off the end, flying through the air, and disappearing into the jungle. When I got up, thankful I was miraculously okay, I looked up and there on the hill were David and our friend doubled over in laughter.

In all, we spent at least a couple of hours in the river. I think we must have seen about a 1/2-mile of the canyon, all rock, with red canyon walls beyond. On the way out, we bought some juice popsicles at the store and the boys changed out of their wet clothes at the car.

Driving into Sedona from that direction is a disappointment to me. It looks like a tourist trap you find almost anywhere, the main street lined with shops selling t-shirts and chocolate fudge. But once you hit the "Y", there's lots of options. We drove up to the airport, which sits on top of a big mesa, giving you a 360-degree view of the red rocks. We didn't stay and turned around. We found a crystal shop for Cyndi (this is one side of the Sedona mystique), and then figured we didn't have time for any hikes or other adventures in Sedona on this trip.

We followed 89A a short distance out of Sedona and then onto the road to Page Springs. It's a short distance to a small valley, and the town seems to be mostly a state fish hatchery and three wineries. We stopped at the middle winery, called Oak Creek, across from the hatchery. It was a nice place, new, with a friendly hostess (the owner, I think) and a small selection of gourmet oils and vinegars. We only managed to taste a white Viognier. The boys were anxious to get to the hotel, and Cyndi and I just looked at each other and knew it was time to go. I bought a bottle of the Viognier. It's still unopened.

It's a quick drive continuing on down the road to the main highway to Phoenix, but then still 90 miles or so until we'd reach the hotel. The highway is much more hilly and mountainous than I thought. It was hot, but the drive was easy. I don't remember what was on the radio. We had our usual mixes on CDs, and I remember playing Madeleine Peyroux on the trip and even La Boheme, not Cyndi's favorites. She had her meditations, the Dali Lama, and Sugarland on her i-pod. The boys were playing Playhouse Disney and Thomas the Train on their DVD player, and I think they brought a few DVDs from the library with them, too.

I told someone at a stop way back in New Mexico that we were going to Phoenix. She said she was sorry. Summer, of course, is not the time to go to Phoenix. I'd love to go in the spring, and catch the baseball spring training games. But the rates are terrific in the summer, and this trip was planned around the State Bar convention being held there. When it was announced at the start of the year that the the convention would be held at the Fairmont Scottsdale Princess, lauded as a 5 diamond resort, I immediately told Cyndi and booked their standard room. When it came time in late spring to sign up for the convention, I paid the fee. Now, we were fairly committed to a short vacation. Potentially, I could get almost a year's worth of continuing education credits for the price of less than a day's course anywhere else.

We've managed to have a few short vacations in resort hotels at substantially reduced fares during their off seasons. Beaver Creek in early fall, long before the ski bunnies arrive; the Broadmoor in the early spring, before the summer duffers and the family pools open. It's a real treat for us.

We drove up to the porte-cochere, and Cyndi and the boys ran inside to use the bathrooms. The front desk upgraded our room to a casita (more children friendly?) and I bumped into a friend from Albuquerque, now a judge, who had a miserable tale of car troubles and a late start. Cyndi, the boys and I left our car tere and went over to the convention center right away. I registered, while the boys collected the free swag from the trade show vendors. I went ahead and also bought four tickets for the Saturday night baseball game, the last tickets. Forty-five dollars a pop included the bus ride. Thinking in advance the Mastercard campaign: Tickets to the game, $180.00; the first round of hot dogs, fries and beer, $42; baseball caps, $36; holding Ry on my shoulders singing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" with 40,000 and counting the balls and strikes with Jack in the top of the 9th, with 2 outs and the tying run on third, priceless.

The boys loved the hotel. One of the things they loved was getting rides on the carts. The bellmen would take you everywhere. Jack would ride in the front and talk with the driver. He had a fan from the trade vendors that spritzed water, so naturally the drivers were spritzed, too. If we were walking and one came along after dropping someone off, they'd always ask if we wanted a ride. We always took it. For the boys, it was an amusement ride, and for a $2 tip it was worth it.

The bellman who helped with our luggage gave us a little tour on the cart the first evening. The architecture is the old-style Spanish colonial (or is it Mediterranean?) that you would find in southern California. Lots of palm trees. We were in the casitas area, quaint villas of six to eight rooms each. There was a small pool nestled amongst the casitas. We went there the first night, late, and the water felt like a hot tub, as warm as the air. There's a lagoon with lawn games set up nearby and fishing, but we only saw it used the last night when the temperature dropped below triple digits. It was just too darn hot to play outside without a bathing suit. A TPC golf course borders the hotel. There are several beautiful gardens and flower beds throughout the grounds and here and there niches with flowering flower pots, tables and chairs. Wonderful places to enjoy the Arizona climate in the fall, winter or spring.

There was an outdoor bar, which in the morning served on-the-run or stop-and-read breakfast items. The boys and I got cereal and coffee there on Friday morning. A bistro at the hotel has indoor dining as well as tables looking out at a pool. We ate there Thursday night after we arrived. It had a family dining room--you only were seated there if you wanted to--that had a playroom attached to it, complete with Disney movies and puzzles and Thomas the Train and bean bag chairs. We actually had the room by ourselves, although another child ventured in from the other room. The boys ate a little, then played, and then ate again, then played again, while Cyndi and I drank wine and ate. The food wasn't extraordinary.

I had made reservations for La Hacienda for Friday night. It is a rare 4 diamond Mexican restaurant that sits apart from the main building. It was an absolute delight and not nearly as expensive as I anticipated. I asked for the earliest seating. The boys behaved well, and the service was supreme. The food has Yucatan influences and was fabulous. The boys split a couple of choices off the children's menu. (I think there was a soft chicken taco, maybe a cheese quesadilla.) Cyndi and I had prickly pear margaritas--yummy--and an ahi tuna jicama taco appetizer, which just disappeared. Cyndi had a shrimp entree, which she loved and asked for the recipe. I couldn't help it: I had a New York steak adobado. We have a pork adovado here in New Mexico. I preferred my dinner that Friday night. The boys drank yupbideer (Ry's word for root beer) and I ordered another traditional Margarita, with Don Julio, their blanco, and ended with a perfect espresso. We were happy. Cyndi ducked into the neighboring spa on our way out, I talked with some friends who were just on their way in, one of whom I hadn't seen for maybe 15 years, and then we walked to our room to get ready for more Friday night fun.

I can't leave without mentioning, again, another day with Don Julio. On Ariel's and my second family cruise to Mexico, the first for Cyndi and Jackson, we stopped in Puerto Villarta and the entire family headed in taxis down the malecon and fairly straight-away to an open-air restaurant that sits along the river next to the island of artists and across the street from a large mercado. Our family, or maybe it was David, discovered it on the family trip before. Cyndi, Ariel, Jackson and I found everyone there, sitting around tables. There were only a few other people at this time of day, many waiters, a marimba player, the owner, and a couple of iguanas down by the river. After some beers and some appetizers, many of the moms, aunts, nieces, sisters and daughters decided to go to the mercado across the street. I remember it being Cyndi's suggestion, though Gary and Dad and David quickly took up the idea, that we should do tequila shots. Dad thought this sounded fun. So we ordered a round, toasted saluds to someone's health or wealth, and drank them down heartily. I think there was a second round. Meanwhile, Jackson was playing his ukelele with the marimba player. He stood there strumming and doing a little dance right next to the musician, and the marimba player sang and played along. When the tequila was done, and only dads, uncles, nephews, brothers and sons remained, Cyndi prepared to leave for the mercado. She put on her hat and said goodbye to Jack. The owner saw her about to leave. He walked into the busy city street and stopped the buses and cars and trucks so Cyndi could walk across the street from his restaurant. The waiter told me the tequila was Don Julio, the best.

In addition to the casitas pool, there were four other pools. One at the spa I never saw. The other three were the Sonoran Splash, the East Pool and the South Pool. The boys practically lived at the Sonoran Splash pool. It had a zero entry, with little fountains, and lots of shallow areas, so Rylee could easily enjoy most of the pool. He played with a little surfer jeep and played in the jets. It had two slides, which Jackson loved. Rylee was actually the first person on Friday morning to go down the slide when the pool opened. I met him at the bottom, and it wasn't something Rylee wanted to do again, even if he loved it. Jackson didn't stop. He met other children sliding. He would slide with his snorkel and mask. He became fast friends with the female lifeguards.

I opted out of the convention on Friday morning. It was mostly plenary sessions, and I even skipped the keynote speaker. I never heard much about those later, so I don't think I missed anything. If I did, I could see them Sunday morning on video replay. Instead, I took the boys to the pool. We swam. Jackson slid. They split a hamburger and fries and a banana-strawberry smoothie for lunch on a table by the pool under the shade of the palm trees. They repeated that morning routine with Cyndi on Saturday and again on Sunday.

On Friday night, after our gourmet Mexican meal, we went to the East Pool for "dive-in" movie night. We parked our gear on the one lounge chair still not taken and sat in the water. It was much more refreshing than the casita pool the night before. (I heard more than once that the pools are stocked with ice in the summer.) It was dark, of course, and a big screen had been set up above a gate at the end of the pool. "Chicken Run", a stop-action animated film about chickens trying to escape from a coop, was playing. Cyndi and I ordered white Russians and sat in the pool, along the edge. Cyndi knew the wife of the judge I saw at the front desk and they chatted for a while. Ry and I sat on a ledge in the pool, while Cyndi and Jackson floated on clear innertubes, and we watched the movie until it ended and it was time to call it a day.

On Saturday night, after the baseball game, we went to the South Pool. By Saturday, it had cooled off a bit. It had to be very late, but there were some other people in the pool. There was a slight breeze, a full and bright moon, and in the distance you could see storm clouds and heat lightening. Cyndi sat in a lounge chair next to Rylee as he began to fall asleep wrapped in a pool towel. Cyndi sipped a glass of wine we poured in our room, while Jackson and I found a raft and floated around the pool.

So that's the tour of the resort, but we haven't found our room yet.

When we first arrived at our casita, I began to unload the bags from the car, which I could park close by. The bellman came with his cart and loaded them to take to the room. Jackson had hurried ahead with his card key and was impatient for me to see the room. We were astonished. The room was huge, with two fluffy beds at one end, a sitting area with couches and chairs and desks at the other end, and a fireplace and entertainment bureau in the middle. A small patio faced the western sky that afternoon and the open door sabotaged the air conditioning. And then Jackson showed me the bathroom.

We have an annual "Parade of Homes" during which contractors, architects, designers, owners and everyone else with a pot shows off new homes. The paraded homes always have very ostentatious master and guest bathrooms, a suite really of vanity rooms, water closets, jacuzzi baths, walk-in showers, and walk-in closets with built in cabinets. That was our casita.

Jackson had already set up the chess table in the middle of the room by an ottoman and Rylee had dumped all of the trains and other toys from the toy bags we brought into the middle of the room. We were now set to enjoy a little vacation.

There was a reception that night, but we didn't go. We enjoyed our room, had dinner at the bistro, and went for a night-time dip in the pool. Our room never cooled off that first night.

I have always wanted to treat Cyndi to a spa day, so this time I worked it into the budget and reserved a massage and a facial for her Friday morning. I thought that would be the best time for me to get away from the convention. The spa is also world class by reputation. I told Cyndi she should go as early as she could and stay as late as she could. She couldn't imagine being away from the boys for 6 hours, but she later said that the time flew. Cyndi should tell this tale, but this is what I gathered. After checking in and touring the spa, there was an early morning, and strenuous, yoga class, followed by saunas and steam rooms and waterfall jacuzzis, then massage, followed by some lounging, perhaps tea or fruit, then a facial, followed by a pre-ordered lunch, indoors I think, by the spa pool. Cyndi loved it, and it was worth it in marriage points.

Meanwhile, the boys and I walked past the tennis courts early enough to hear the pop of balls in play and had our breakfast of cereal and coffee. We walked to the pool with the slides and met the lifeguard along the way.

Friday afternoon and Saturday morning was continuing education for me, mostly bench and bar seminars and trial practice classes. Good. I joined Cyndi and the boys poolside at lunch. The CLE ended midafternoon and it gave us about an hour to gather up the boys and board the buses to Chase Field.

I think this was my fourth major league game. There was the Astros in the Astrodome in the 60s, the Braves with Ariel in their old park, and the Giants with Cyndi and Jackson in their foggy new park. Our seats weren't great. I thought the bar would do better, but it was fun nonetheless. The Diamondbacks were playing the LA Dodgers. The teams were tied in first place in their division, although both were slightly under 500. A huge Dodgers fan crowd was present, so there was plenty of yelling back and forth. Dodgers and Diamondbacks must be a natural new rivalry, with fans from LA driving to Phoenix or relocating there.

There's a player for the D-Backs, no. 34, Conor Jackson. He made a spectacular catch on the wall and hit a home run early in the game. The D-Backs seemed to be in command of the game.

I made a run for huge corn dogs and polish dogs and fries and tall beers, and later we all went to get Rylee a Diamondbacks cap. Cyndi and I got another beer. The boys got ice cream, and Jackson got a fan. The blades lit up when they turned and said, "Go D-Backs". It lasted a few days. Rylee still has his cap, and he and I will watch some Diamondbacks games on the television.

At the top of the ninth, Jackson noticed the scoreboard and we talked about how to read it and then correlated that to the action on the field, which was getting hot. LA was making a drive. A run was scored, a triple was hit into left field, a batter walked. So Jackson and I talked about the outs, the runners, the strikes and balls. When the tying run was on third, the whole stadium was on its feet and everyone was yelling and clapping. Every pitch was cheered.

Well, LA lost that night and we made our slow way to the buses.

Sunday morning, I drove early to get some coffee and some breakfast from off-campus. The coffee wasn't particularly good at the resort, and there weren't good breakfast options I could find. (I did order a nice room-service breakfast for Cyndi and the boys Saturday morning.)  While Cyndi and the boys ate the breakfast and went swimming again, I sat for one video replay. The front desk that morning was being a little curt and unbudging about extending our check-out time. Reminded me of the airport in Hawaii. All smiles and flowers and lovely music when you arrive; now get the heck out when you're departing, you cows. We packed our car, set up the DVD player, and left.

On our way out, we stopped at a nearby Whole Foods to pick up lunch and snacks for the road. There were samples of some kind of organic, coco-puffs looking cereal being handed out as we entered the store. But one of the puffs had peanut butter. Jackson did have a reaction, a slight swelling in the throat and runny sinuses for about an hour later, but fortunately not the shut down we fear. A good lesson for us to be vigilant. Typically, we always ask, and Jackson in particular always asks. Somehow, we slipped.

Down the road was a Costco that was selling gas at something around $3.59, which was unbelievably low then, so we filled up and headed north. It began to rain, and it rained all the way through northern Arizona, making the drive cooler. We stopped at Little America in Flagstaff for a break. I don't remember if we ever stopped again, but we must have stopped somewhere. The traffic was light, it was dark, and we made good time home.

Photoshow of Fourth and

Photoshow of More Ariel Alaska Adventures

Photoshow of Princess

nostalgia

[turn off the radio first]

4th...uncovered...ariel's ride 3

So busy. I'll get pictures up soon. A good 4th of July for the boys: children's bicycle parade on a sunny but muggy morning, a dunking machine and a fire truck to cool off, hot dogs and more sun at the pool, hamburgers and home fireworks in the evening. After a few days, we heard from Ariel. She is in Juneau. I'll let her tell the story from when I last blogged. There was rain and strong headwinds, tough passes, beautiful campsites, grizzly bear sightings, riding with another trio, refuge with a family building a cabin, a lift into town, Haines, and the ferry ride. Tuesday was our premiere of Uncovered, the film Jack did last year when he was 5. (A small showing to thank everyone here who had worked on it.) It was fascinating to watch. Nina sat by Jack, along with Ry and Brendan. The children laughed gleefully during the first few scenes. Matt, the director, had a short Q&A afterward, introduced the cast and crew, and gave us a few DVDs for private use (but which I hope to share with Ariel & family so they can see it). Matt's sending it off to film festivals, including Sundance. (There's one showing in LA soon.) Cyndi was on pins and needles during the showing. We've watched it a few times at home since. Jack really is the main focus of the film, since the story is largely told from his point of view. I try to imagine how strangers see the film. It's remarkable.

Ariel's ride 2

Ariel is about to cross into Canada, where she'll spend the 4th of July weekend. She's 5 miles from the border at this moment. I saw the spot on the google satellite map. About 40 miles from now, she'll make her camp at Snag Junction.

It's sunny, but there's been some patches of road construction and loose gravel and more hills.

She stayed at Longview Campground last night. It was beautiful there, she said. She shared a site with another solo bicyclist, trading stories. She says she's going faster than other bicyclists on the way, because they're carrying about twice the amount of gear she has on her bike. She's taken little extra clothing and no tent. She uses a tarp. Her new friend, who's touring more of Alaska and is already behind her, is also carrying a bear can for food.

We may not hear from her again for a few days. I hope there's pictures.

Ariel's ride

Ariel called me today. Her voice never sounded so clear on her cell, and she sounded exhuberant. She was calling from Tok, Alaska, on the Alaskan Highway. It was her third day. She'd gone about 20 miles so far today and was stopping for some groceries and lunch in a park. She'd made great progress, riding over 80 miles the first day in the rain and over 100 miles the second day with a strong wind at her back. Lots of sun today, she reported. She may be in the Yukon by now. I gathered she had an overnight campsite as her goal. She reported the roads were great, lots of shoulder, light traffic, and long, flat stretches. She said she felt safer than riding in Fairbanks. Chris gave her some reflective gear to wear. David reminded me that there's plenty of daylight up there this time of year. She had seen a few other bicyclers along the way.

She'll continue on the Alaskan Highway (Alcan) through Yukon and British Columbia. Along the way there were plans to stop at Tetlin Junction, Snag Junction, Dalan Campground, before Destruction Bay, and Kluane Lake. At Haines Junction, she'd take the fork back into Alaska, pass by Kathleen Lake Campground and a State Rec Area 30 miles north of Haines. There's a camp to stay in Haines overnight before catching a ferry to Juneau in the morning.

I can imagine how pleased she will be to reach Haines and know she can be at rest in the town and then relax on the ferry for a short ride down the inland passage through the Alaskan archipelago. We took a similar ferry a few years ago between Juneau and Skagway when we hiked the Chilkoot Trail with David, Terra and Jennifer. David calls it "the poor man's cruise." I remember sitting in lounge chairs on the deck at the stern of the ship, watching the wake, the coastal mountains, breaching whales, and eagles drifting above. There's a place for food and drink and a lounge with big, comfortable chairs. When we returned on the ferry after our hike, we even got a small cabin, mainly so we could take showers and change into clean clothes we had saved for that final leg.

She'll be visiting David, Sandra, Jenni, Jacques and Eric in Juneau for a while, then she will return with Jenni and Jacques on their drive back to Wasilla. Either she'll get dropped off at Tok and ride up to Fairbanks or ride back to Fairbanks from Wasilla along the highway she rode last summer.

Eric will be there for a short visit during that time. David and Sandra are completing their renovations and re-settling into Juneau. I'm sure there will be sea kayaking involved, maybe some sailing or other boating, and something to do with king crabs, salmon and halibut.