Expedition 2024 — Van Life, Season 8 — Part 5 of 5

This is part 5 to start reading at the beginning, click here.

Phase IV: Eastern Washington

The Bowl and Pitcher campground on the Spokane River. The rock formation in the middle looks like a pitcher from some angles, and the “bowl” is a depression in the cliff on the left.

At Coeur d’ Alene, we stopped again to refuel at Costco, then to a nearby laundromat to do our weekly wash. We made our way through Spokane traffic to Riverside State Park, where we had reservations at the last available utility site, anticipating cool evenings. Using our Senior Off-Season Pass, we only paid for the utilities, so justified the splurge, and planned to spend two nights, to have time to ride our bike and explore the hiking trails.

Closeup of the Pitcher, with the Swinging Bridge in the distance.

The campground, officially called the Bowl and Pitcher for distinctive rock formations in the Spokane River, is a gem: we hiked across the swinging suspension bridge for views of the gorge from a different perspective. Taking advantage of electric power, we reheated leftovers packed for us by Judy’s sister-in-law for supper, a rare hot meal on the road. And, we appreciated our new sink for making dish washing a breeze. We talked to a bicyclist we met on the trail about routes into the city, but decided we would drive to a trail head in the morning for a ride on the Centennial Trail up the river toward Idaho, as the only practical way out of camp was on the busy Riverside Road, which has a few steeper climbs and no shoulders.

The planned morning bike ride turned to disappointment, as we found every trail head we visited infested with homeless folk, one promising turnout was closed for freeway construction, and more homeless on the trail ahead. So, we returned to camp, intending to explore the hiking trails across the river after lunch. As we crossed the famous swing bridge, the first raindrops began. We walked down the river until the rain began an earnest drizzle, and returned to camp before it became a downpour.

The cold and rain was starting to wear us down. We have electric hookup and the small heater kept the van at least in the high 50s at night, versus the high 40s we experienced a previous night when it got down to freezing outside, with no electric service.

Riding on the gravel Ferry County Rail Trail along Curlew Lake in north central Washington

In the morning, we headed north, then west on the remote WA Hwy 20, then Hwy 21 to Curlew Lake State Park. We checked in, then drove to the trail head at the north end of the lake. We rode to the other end of the lake and back on the Ferry County Rail Trail, a total of 11 miles (18 km). During the ride, we were paced by deer through a cut and by a chipmunk on the trestle across the north end of the lake. Another bucket list checked. There is one more “improved” section of this trail, north of Curlew, which we planned to check out the next day. “Improved” means they swept the railway ballast to the side and laid down fine crushed gravel. Most of the 40-km trail from Republic to the Canadian border is not improved, except for those two sections, reserved for non-motorized traffic.

By Sunday morning, Judy’s cold had set in with an agenda. We drove to the trail head at Curlew, but neither of us was game to get out and ride, so we turned about and headed for Wenatchee, where we got a no-utility site at Wenatchee Confluence State Park. It was good to arrive early, as the campground filled almost completely by dark. Another fitful night ensued, and in the morning it was obvious the best course was to head for home, just four hours away. We arrived home just before noon, and in time to get settled and prepare for a Zoom board meeting. We had been several days with minimal to non-existent network access, with no WiFi along the way and the usual “No Service” showing on the cell phones, so finding reliable WiFi and privacy to run a Zoom session would have been problematic.

So, our fall expedition came to an end, after 25 days wandering the Pacific Northwest across 2500 miles of driving and 93 km of bicycling. We look at it as a shake-down tour to prepare us for our planned late winter 2025 excursion.

Epilogue

After being home for a few weeks, recovering from colds and catching up on chores we couldn’t do with minimal internet access, we took a couple of days to escape to the beach. We returned home after a blustery night of wind and rain, and loaded the washing machine. At the spin cycle, the sewer system backed up. A late Saturday call to the sewer service got a quick response, but the blockage was obviously downstream from the laundry, the last point in the line, and the technician was unable to clear it. So, we spent a third night in the van, in our driveway.

Sunday brought another look-see, with a camera, which merely verified the general location: a crew would arrive on Monday to open the line to make it easier to deal with. We were preparing to retreat to a nearby state park when our son called us and offered a guest room and shower, so we took them up on it. Two more days of digging, blasting roots out of the system, putting in an external clean-out, and installing a high-tech liner to seal the joints in the old concrete pipe sections and extend the life of the sewer system finally ended the ordeal. But, we’re now left scrambling to arrange to liquidate a substantial percentage of our dwindling retirement funds. Full-time van life might be closer than we planned: our biggest asset is now our house. We probably can’t sustain any more maintenance expense. But at least the sewer will hopefully pass inspection when we go to sell, along with the new furnace we replaced earlier in the year.

Expedition 2024 — Van Life, Season 8 — part 4 of 5

Phase III: Central Idaho

Camped at Winchester Lake State Park

Winchester Lake was a nice park, but with the usual stinky, eye-watering state park campfires that seemed to serve no purpose with temperatures into the high 20s Celsius late into the evening. Some, obviously, were for cooking unidentifiable and odoriferous meals, and, we expect, for burning the plastic packaging and left-overs afterwards. Still, we were happy to find vacancies on a weekend, to avoid sketchy stealth camping.

Early Sunday morning, we broke camp and headed south, stopping at Grangeville to do laundry at a friendly neighborhood laundromat. Moving on, we stopped at Stacy Cakes bakery in McCall, lunching on cinnamon rolls, scones, and coconut macaroons–not a healthy lunch, but a favorite stop, so we indulged. Driving down the scenic ID 55 along the Payette River, we arrived at Judy’s brother’s house in late afternoon, for a few day’s visiting. On hooking up the van for a few days’ “moochdocking,” we discovered we had driven off from the Heyburn campground without disconnecting our 40-foot electrical cord, the second time we’ve lost one that way. To prevent that in the future, I decided to put the cord reel in front of the drivers seat so we can’t drive away without it. We still have 50-feet of cord, but yet another expense, should we replace the long one.

We also stopped at hardware stores along the way to stock up on M6-20 socket-head bolts for the bicycle, which hold the pieces together. I had broken one of the bolts when adjusting the timing chain tension before our mid-TCdA ride, but we had ridden anyway, figuring two bolts made for redundancy. I had to loosen the other bolt and spread the tabs to align the holes for the new bolt. At least we now have spares for all the bolts on the bike, the others mostly M4 and M5 of different lengths. We had to replace a rear rack bolt a few weeks ago, during a ride.

Indian Creek, downtown Caldwell, Idaho

After two days of visiting with Judy’s brother’s family, we headed north, up Hwy 95. We stopped for lunch at Council, where, years before, we had ridden our bike on the Weiser River Trail, a ride cut short because the trail was washed out north of town. Moving on, we arrived back at Winchester Lake State Park, where we had stayed Saturday night. This time, it was very quiet, with the main hookup loop closed for the winter and few sites taken in the dry camp loop and yurts. Being off-season, we paid $9 less than we had the previous week. The lake was populated with a large population of geese and ducks, which we observed on a walk into town for ice cream at the gas station/liquor store/C-store, the only business in the tiny (200 pop.) town.

With the campground at 3900 ft elevation, the temperature dropped outside after sunset, but more slowly inside: we woke at dawn with the van at 9 C (48 F) and the outside temperature at minus 2 C (28 F). On the road, the temperature rose rapidly as we descended into Lewiston, and didn’t drop much as we climbed up the other side on US 95 toward Coeur d’ Alene. We finally stopped for breakfast at the only rest stop along the route, Near McCroskey State Park. We took a side excursion into the park, thinking the ridge road had a view, but instead it was a steep one-lane gravel road on the side of a steep, deeply wooded ridge: we turned around at the first opportunity, which was way too far up for Judy’s innate fear of cliff-hanging narrow roads.

(to be continued)

Expedition 2024 — Van Life Season 8, part 3 of 5

Phase II: North Idaho

So, we embarked on Plan C: drive over Lookout Pass to Wallace, Idaho, where we kitted up, took down the bike, and rode the 12.5 km up to Mullan, 250 meters higher elevation. The ride back was very chilly, at speeds up to 30 kph. This 25-km ride completed our coverage of the entire east end of the Trail of the Coeur d’Alenes, a 115-km (230 km round trip) paved rail trail from Mullan to Plummer. The only part left we hadn’t ridden was in the middle, from milepost 29 to milepost 39. As we stopped for lunch in Wallace, I discovered I had lost part of my keychain in the last few days in all the excitement: It had my Army dogtag and our bicycle lock keys on it: fortunately we hadn’t locked up the bike, but it’s still a loss. We have duplicates of the keys at home, but I had lost the other dog tag many decades ago.

We planned to camp near milepost 29, but the camp spot listed in iOverlander as a lakeside space for a few campers and a pit toilet turned out to be not as advertised, up a narrow track to the top of a hill, where we were saluted with a beer held high by one of the two guys who were already there. The pit toilet was at a boat launch farther up the road, which was posted no overnight parking. So, we backtracked to the CDA River RV Park in Cataldo, where we had camped in 2019 and had cut our bike ride short at milepost 39 when a thunderstorm rolled in, barely making it back to camp before it hit.

Trail of the Coeur d’ Alenes, River Bend Rest stop, Milepost 38.5

In the morning, we decided not to ride from the nearby Cataldo Trailhead, as it would have been a long ride upriver on the return, so we drove to the Bull Lake Trailhead (MP 33.5), rode to MP 29, then back up to MP 39.5. We met another couple on a tandem who had been riding the whole trail in several days, camping along the way.

This completed the entire trail for us, which began with a 61-mile ride from Harrison to Plummer and Medimount back in October of 2004, with five to 20-mile segments over the years, as we had time when we passed through and the weather cooperated (which it often didn’t). Most bicyclists ride the entire trail both directions in two or three days: we were passed coming and going by a woman on a time trial bike, full aero, who passed us going up-river at at least 45 kph, while we lumbered along at 17-18 kph. This final segment turned out to be 33 km.

A bit tired after two days back-to-back rides longer and harder than we had done all year, we drove down to St. Maries, hoping for a decent camp at the fairgrounds, but it was a dump, so we phoned the Heyburn State Park office just before closing and were assured there were four sites left to choose from: 13 miles of winding cliffside road later, we backed into a level site next to the showers and had a great evening and good sleep.

Trail of the Coeur d’ Alenes: Chatcolet Bridge, a former swing bridge raised when the bike trail was built to allow boat traffic.

We checked in/out in the morning and found our way to the bike trail for photos of the Chatcolet Bridge we had crossed on our 2004 segment, and views of the lake and Plummer Creek Marsh. Then, down ID 3, a new route for us, enroute to Judy’s brother’s in Caldwell, Idaho. We stopped for lunch at a riverside forest service camp, then made our way to US 12 and US 95 to Winchester, for another state park, checking in in mid-afternoon, after a day of driving through the mountains and eastern end of the Palouse, and down into the fire-ravaged canyon and the town of Juliette, then up US 95.

(to be continued)

Expedition 2024 — Van Life, Season 8, part 2 of 5

Phase I: Montana

Mt. Rainier from Tipsoo Lake, at Chinook Pass.

We loaded up as we completed fitting drawers and painting doors, setting off mid-morning, determined to make this an adventure instead of just a point-to-point run. We took the Chinook Pass route over the Cascades, a route we hadn’t taken in decades, probably since the late 1980s, and an alternate route through the Palouse, ending up for the night at a city park in a small town, parked on the street, our first venture into urban boondocking. We left early in the morning, stopping for breakfast at a riverside fishing spot on the Snake River in the Nez Perce Nation just before heading up the Clearwater River toward Montana. We arrived at our destination near Florence, Montana in late afternoon. In a typical example of Montana creative adaptation, we were invited to a neighbor’s office Christmas Party, held between the summer heat and smoke and winter cold, so it could be held outdoors, with live music and a catered food truck. We do miss Montana living!

Coffee is a staple in the van: why go to Starbucks when you can pull over anywhere and make espresso.

We planned to spend a few days visiting and unwinding, as this was a real vacation from a furious seven months of van building for me and a hectic spring and summer for Judy. She had taken over coordination of resident scheduling and presentations for the women artist’s residency, Hypatia in the Woods, for which we serve on the board. That’s been a full-time job for her, with the learning curve and the workload.

Our new van worked well. Plugged in to friends’ house power, we had a chance to try out our small electric heater to see how it went with the better insulation. It did, to the extent we turned it off soon: we probably won’t need heat unless the temperature is below freezing, which will save us money camping this winter.

On the downside, our plan to lose a little weight during our trip by not snacking was scuttled by the hospitality of our friends with great meals. Nevertheless, it was good to be on the road again.

After nearly two weeks of visiting friends in the Bitterroot Valley, bouncing back and forth between them, it was time to leave. During our stay, we had taken a morning to ride our bicycle through the Lee Metcalf National Wildlife Refuge. I helped a neighbor assess his solar system, and helped a friend with her own van build. We helped modify her van doors to make space for storage inside the doors and cut the hole in the roof to install a vent fan.

Camping at Walmart

We drove up through the Jocko Valley, stopping late in the day at the Garden of One Thousand Buddhas, as we usually do when we pass that way. We ended up in Polson, at the Super Walmart, with a view of Flathead Lake. Unfortunately, a young man who had pulled into the parking lot to make a phone call backed into us with an extremely loud thump and a jolt. Fortunately, he missed the bike, but we took it and the rack off to inspect it and the van doors. The doors opened normally and sealed, but the magnetic door stop on the left side had been pushed back into the door. This seems to be fixable without too much trouble, though we will have to remove the lower inside door panel and the insulation to inspect it.

After that, we moved back against the curb, just to make sure we weren’t in direct line of fire from traffic, and had an otherwise uneventful evening. After this, we’re not sure free parking at Walmart is affordable.

A choice spot on the Clark Fork River at Peninsula Recreation Area, Lolo National Forest

In the morning, we took a walk on the waterfront trail, which extends over the water under the bridge. Then, off again, through Ronan, Charlo, and Dixon. We found a great Lolo National Forest dispersed camping area on the Clark Fork River. Although we had an ideal campsite, and even cell service, a rarity at most remote camps, we got a weather alert of an approaching violent thunderstorm. Being a mile from the highway in dense forest on a dirt road seemed risky, so we buttoned down and headed out, seeking shelter in St. Regis. The storm hit as we approached the town, with wind gusts and flying needles and branches. Before it got dark, we could see the approaching wall of water at the edge of the storm, and it hit us just as we parked in an open parking lot.

The heavy rain carried no hail and the storm passed quickly. The lot was posted no overnight parking, so we drove on west on I-90, noting the power was out in DeBorgia and Saltese, as well as Haugan, our destination. The 50,000 Silver Dollar casino was dark, but we had stayed in their free campground before and found an open site in the pitch-black dark. The power was back on by morning. We left, thinking we were going to ride up the Northern Pacific Trail from Taft to Lookout Pass. But, there was heavy construction on I-90, as there always is before winter destroys most of the improvements. We couldn’t find the trail or a place to park, with the trail head a staging area for the road construction. I think the trail is a once and future undertaking, as there seemed to be a muddy, overgrown track where the trail should have been. We proceeded to the rest area 2 km up the road, where we could see the trail above, but no way to get to it.

(to be continued …)

Expedition 2024 — Van Life, Season 8, Part 1 of 5

Our 2024 van life began with a bang–literally. After ending 2023 with a quick tour of nearby state parks on our Senior Off-Season Pass, we pulled out onto a road in major sun glare, out of which a car appeared, very close and very fast. With a loud bang, we spun around 180 degrees and stopped cross-way in the road. Attempts to pull over were met with a rattle and no movement. The drive shaft lay in the street, with the rear axle pushed back against the spare tire, but little other damage. Inside was a mess, as the shelving and bed tore loose and items toppled from the top of our storage cabinet. But, we were unhurt, the driver who hit us was unhurt, and her car was still movable, so we directed her to the side of the road. While she called her husband and Judy called 911, I directed traffic until the sheriff’s deputies arrived. Hampered by poor phone service in this area, in rural northeast Olympia, eventually a tow truck was called and the insurance company was notified.

The wreck of Bella: shelving torn loose, bed torn loose, minor damage.

Our van was towed away to a body shop, and we rented a car and drove home. After a week of waiting, and a cryptic report from the insurance company, we finally realized that, despite what we thought was minor damage, our van, which we had christened “Bella” when we bought it three years ago in 2021, would be declared a total loss. We rented a small moving truck, emptied the van and removed all the add-on fixtures we could easily do so. We returned the rental car and the moving truck, borrowed a friend’s extra pickup truck, and began shopping for a new van, once the insurance settlement was reached.

Our new van, Bianca, a 2023 All-Wheel-Drive model, was not otherwise as well-equipped as Bella, with smaller mirrors, a smaller rear-view camera screen, and not a lot of extra features that Bella had: no eco-boost engine, parking assist, blind-spot warning lights, or armrests. But, it did have the stock Ford wall panels and a padded vinyl rug in the cargo area, which wasn’t a clean slate like Bella had been, and it changed our conversion plans somewhat. We wouldn’t have to purchase a liner or build a frame and walls inside, so we elected to have a roof fan and passenger seat swivel installed professionally, since it was winter and those needed to be installed first in the process.

We used the rug for a template to build up the solid floor and insulation underneath. We removed the wall panels and installed insulation on the walls, and in the ceiling and cargo doors. We made holes in the panels to line up with the threaded inserts in the walls, to which we bolted Unistrut beams to serve as anchors for the interior fixtures. I also set Rivnuts in the roof ribs to attach Unistrut rails to secure the fronts of the upper cabinets.

Using the cargo bay rug for a cutting template for the subfloor on the new build

Before the wreck, we had already decided to make some major revisions to the van floor plan, mainly to move the tandem bicycle outside, move the bed to the driver’s side, and install floor-to-ceiling storage and a kitchen counter on the passenger side, so that’s the way the new van building went. I liked the idea of a cabinet bulkhead behind the driver’s seat, so we made a narrow electrical cabinet, with a box to house the toilet behind that. The toilet had been under the end of the bed in our last configuration.

So it went, juggling all of the contents of the old van aside to make space to build in the garage workshop. We cleared out an area in the weaving room to layout the floor and later the large plywood partitions, but doing all the cutting in the shop. We cut the wood subfloor with a jigsaw, but most of the rest of the construction was done with my set of Japanese hand saws, a pocket-hole fixture, my ancient Makita cordless drill, my Dad’s old Stanley hand plane, and a set of chisels. I made a few cuts with the old benchtop table saw.

Nearly complete new van interior, ready for camping

By late June, there was enough done to call it a camper, including a new trailer hitch and hitch-mounted tandem rack. We headed to eastern Washington for a few nights camping and a bike ride on the recently-restored Beverley Bridge across the Columbia River. The bridge was the final link that connected the east and west halves of the cross-state Palouse to Cascades State Park Trail, along the former Milwaukee Road railroad route.

Beverley Bridge, Palouse to Cascades Trail State Park, across the Columbia River.

For the rest of the summer, we continued to work on the details and go camping overnight and take bike rides around the Olympic Peninsula, using our weekly hikes with the senior center group to select targets of opportunity. Finally, we planned to leave in early September for a month-long expedition to visit friends and relatives in Montana and Idaho.

Fort Flagler State Park, Marrowstone Island, WA, looking north across Admiralty Inlet

(to be continued)