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Coming Winter

2011-06-10T13:25:00.000-07:00

By morning the storm clouds have dispersed and fresh snow on the surrounding peaks reflects the rising sun. We drive into Mammoth for breakfast waiting for the temperatures to rise as the sun ascends. Our journey is nearing it's end so we drag our feet and spend a bit more time bouldering on some volcanic tuff amongst towering Jeffrey pines before packing up for one last time.

The snow from last night has caused rockfall closing the road ahead. A couple short hours separate us from our journey's end, yet we are necessarily waiting. We sit stranded behind a locked gate. Impatient we hope to make it over the pass today, yet we awe at the glistening peaks above us, the new fallen snow and rime reflecting the afternoon sun. Along the road where we are parked, crimson and gold aspen quake in the light breeze. We silently contemplate the last few weeks, the last few months, the last year.

Immersed in beauty and experience, we have watched our children grow. We have grown ourselves. It has been a long journey, one that has enriched our lives with invaluable memories. We have learned to appreciate the changing of the seasons and the rising and setting of the sun each day. We have seen leaves change color and then fall, we have heard elk bugling and rivers cascading. We have tasted locally brewed ale and felt coarse granite with our fingertips. We have tried to be present and experience the uniqueness and opportunity of each day. Yet we have also been reminded of what else lies beyond. We wake with new dreams, content with the adventures of yesterday, yet eager to embark on the adventures in our everyday lives. Tomorrow this journey will end. Another will begin.

Buttermilks

2011-06-03T13:37:00.000-07:00

A natural rock garden on the edge of the mighty Sierra, once a quite place to stroll among the erratic weathered granite boulders, now a playground for climbers from near and far. Despite their popularity, there is still something special at this place, something meditative, something zen. There is a reverence shown toward the rocks, the hills, the environment and each other. Despite the sporadic screams of climbers pushing their limits on minute edges of rock, there is a serenity that extends beyond the number of cars parked along the side of the road.

We find our own boulders to climb on. There is something for all, and each of us can decide our own challenge and ambition. The struggle against granite is secondary to being in a beautiful place together.

As the afternoon sun slowly descends, we search out another hidden natural gem of the Eastern Sierra. Hidden amongst the sage brush hot water bubbles up from the depths of the Earth.

We follow a weathered dirt road and eventually we find a small worn cement tub molded to capture the percolating water. We brave the afternoon wind for a quick dip washing away the dirt and sweat of the past few days. Not caring how clean we actually get, we sit and try to enjoy soaking our tired bodies despite the austerity of the howling wind, trying to avoid sand in our faces and holding on to our towels and clothes.

As the sun falls behind the high peaks, storm clouds brew. Soon, the wind is replaced by a downpour and we scramble searching for a place to eat dinner and then to sleep.

Desolation and Intrigue - Death Valley

2011-05-30T14:05:00.000-07:00

A lonely dirt road leads off the main highway and continues out through a desolate landscape. We are only a few hours from the bright lights and glitter of Las Vegas, yet worlds away. Among lava rocks, and desert shrubs. After a long drive out of the rain in Zion, it nice to have a bit of time to get out, wander around and explore. We set up camp, pop up the ECamper, and put together some dinner on the camp stove. We are alone, and only the occasional car speeding by on the highway off in the distance interrupts the silence. It almost an eerie feeling. Even though we are outside the actual national park, we sense that there is something unique about this landscape.

In the morning take our time packing up, before heading into the heart of Death Valley. Descending out onto the salt flats, past hillsides colored in various shades of greens, pinks and whites, and black. We turn off the paved road and continue descending until some 50 meters below sea level we stop to ponder where we are. The kids run out onto the salt flats to explore while I admire the odd beauty of the landscape.

We are only passing through, though it's easy to imagine the many possibilities the hidden canyons and geologic feature that we could spend days exploring. The landscape changes quickly, from bizarre volcanic outcrops, to sand dunes. We make the most out of our few hours in the park, only slightly disappointed that we don't feel the urge to spend more time searching out some of the other natural wonders. The desert is big, and the distances would require more effort than we feel justified after the past few weeks of traveling.

Zion National Park - Forces of Nature

2011-05-27T14:47:00.000-07:00

Below gathering storm clouds, the warm hues of immense rock walls reflect a subtle pleasant ambience. Standing at the base of towering sandstone walls, it's difficult to imagine that we are standing at the same elevation as the top of the Grand Canyon. Nearly a thousand meters more of solid rock ascend above us. The scale of not only our immediate surroundings, but the entire Great Basin extending beyond to the south and west inspire us. We hike a steep trail upwards, slowly, enjoying the vibrance of the occasional maple in autumn splendor. We follow the pace of our young explorers, climbing over rocks, navigating the narrow trail. We have the entire afternoon to our disposal, we aren't an a hurry. Elias and Frêney determine our pace and final destination.

At the end of the trail a faint waterfall plummets into a small pool with sandy beaches and rock islands. We kick off our shoes and feel the soft sand between our toes and the cool water on our feet. Serendipitously, we are alone to enjoy the quiet, the silence broken only by the faint symphony of falling water, and the gentle rustling of branches and leaves in the calm wind.

Our ambitions of another hike further into the narrow canyons upstream evaporated in a steady downpour the next morning. Considering the forces of nature that have carved these rock walls and narrow canyons, it's easy to accept that autumn storms are part of the natural cycle.

As we lie in our tent debating the storm we realize that we are ready to move on. The forecast doesn't sound better for the next few days. We say farewell to the grandeur of the high deserts of Utah as the heavy clouds obscure the upper reaches of the majestic rock walls surrounding us.

Castles Made of Sand - Bryce Canyon

2011-05-23T13:25:00.000-07:00

Out in the high desert of southern Utah, we follow a narrow path among pine and fir. Suddenly the horizon opens up and we emerge onto the edge of a plateau. Below and beyond a maze of eroded rock stretches as far as the eye can see. The power of the Colorado River and it's many tributaries, continue to mold a meandering path through the fragile sandstone. The jagged spires of Bryce Canyon stand guard again the impending forces of nature, castles made of sand, fragile relics of a landscape shaped by the relentless forces of water over countless millenia.

Under the bright blue autumn sky we descend below the canyon rim, into a magical landscape. In the labyrinth of narrow canyons we can envision mythical characters hiding behind nooks in the rock walls. We meander along a beaten path appreciating the natural wonders of nature at a pace that allows us to let the scale of place sink in. We contemplate not only the size of the pinnacles and rock walls, but the scale of time, each raindrop that contributes to the constant erosion and morphology of this spectacular place.

A Year to Inspire

2011-01-01T03:54:00.000-08:00

Somewhere back in October our blog stranded a bit. More time was spent doing things than writing about them. We still have plenty to go back and write about and more images and adventures to share, but for now our year on the road has come to an end and the reality of a more "normal" life looms. Yet the inspiration that led to taking a year off to spend as a family is still ever present. While we won't be able to spend as much time on the road or in the mountains, we have learned that home isn't necessarily a place, but a state of mind. Home is being together, eating together, playing together, exploring together. Home is learning new things, rekindling old interests, and sharing in all facets of life. Our curiosity and adventurous spirits will lead us into new experiences in the coming year.

As our year comes to an end, it's time to cherish the memories and let them inspire us for the year to come. Without a doubt, the biggest treasure from the past year has been watching our kids grow and absorb the edification of the world around them. Being inspired by the philosophy of Maria Montessori, we have tried to be facilitators rather than teachers, letting our children experience the world for themselves, at their own pace. In doing so, we have all learned more about ourselves and the world around us. Of course our own interests have guided us, yet the love of the outdoors and the positive influence it has in our lives has been a constant.

This was the year for getting dirty, spending as much time as possible outdoors, whether it be in the snowy mountain tops of the Sierra Nevada, the rainy beaches of the Pacific Northwest, or the dry rocky desert of the Southwest. We have watched animals, climbed rocks, played with sticks. We have gotten scratched, bitten, burned, dirty and wet, cold. We've felt the hot earth under our bare feet and the cold wind in our hair. We have explored the wonders of nature and the inner workings of our own psyche. Through our experiences together, each of us has encountered the world a little differently. Bound by our own limitations both physically and mentally, we have all grown individually, yet also grown together, closer as a family.

Along the way we have been inspired by people and places. Grateful for the welcoming spirit we have met through our travels, whether it be on the road in Montana or Washington, or among family in California. There has been a warmth and generosity that we appreciate more than we can express in words.

Each opportunity of the past year has left our lives a little richer and for this we will forever be grateful. We look back with a sense of reverence, yet we also look forward with anticipation. We look ahead to nurturing old relationships and fostering new ones, embarking on new adventures and learning new things about ourselves and the world around us. The year we leave behind has been an ever inspiring adventure and we welcome the new year and the opportunities it will bring for us in Norway.

Somewhere along the way, we were once called nomads. While we may never again have the same opportunity to travel for so long, our days on the road will still be many. Our spirits will remain vagabonds, searching for new adventures, wisdom and inspiration in each day, month and year ahead.

Home is where we are...

Merry Christmas

2010-12-25T00:53:00.000-08:00

As our adventures on the road came to an end, it was time to kindle the holiday spirit and settle in our new home. Time to find the perfect Christmas tree, bake gingerbread cookies, and savor the holiday spirit. The weather outside has been delightful, cold, dark, yet delightful. The fresh snow reflecting the few hours of midday sun, just enough to keep smiles on our faces and relish in spending these holidays together. While our friends and family in California have been missed, we have so many memories of this past year to keep us together in spirit.

And while our blog still has some holes from our adventures this past year, it's time to jump ahead to the present and be grateful for the beauty of this Christmas season and the true meaning of celebration.

Merry Christmas from all of us.

Late fall in the Wasatch

2010-10-18T13:10:00.000-07:00

A picture that only a small child could paint, so full of color, yet with no attention to order, reds, yellows, oranges, in contrast and combination. These are colors of autumn alive in the mountains. These are the colors of the Wasatch Range in fall

The drive up Little Cottonwood Canyon takes us from the city streets of Salt Lake City through the steep narrow canyon to the top of Alta ski area. The colors change as we ascend, from crimson maples to golden aspens. Driving past, we stop to admire the detail of each shimmering leaf as it rustles in the cool autumn breeze. Colors that from afar merge into a spectacular contoured carpet. As night falls the alpine cold sets in and we find shelter off the main roads among the slopes that in mere weeks will be covered by snow.

The crisp autumn chill rouses us from our sleep, but as the sun slowly rises and warms, the colors once again come to life. We descend from our lofty perch near the main ridge of the Wasatch, once again past the quaking aspens, and further down the valley into the warmth of the morning sun. For the next few hours we frolick in the magical ambiance of fall, climbing on rocks and a with short hike under vermillion-leaved maples.

The Wild and Majestic Tetons

2010-10-15T03:49:00.000-07:00

Leaving the caldera of Yellowstone National Park, we approach the alpine landscape of The Tetons Range. The majestic peaks slowly rises in elevation and grandeur as we drive south around Jackson Lake. Most of the autumn color has past, yet a few groves of golden aspens remain, stubbornly standing against the approaching winter. Being mid October, these high mountains have already tasted their first winter snows and down here in the valley the tourist season is already over. We feel refreshingly alone and content.

The majestic peaks rising abruptly from the valley floor seem both imposing yet enticing. The Grand Teton is one of the most climbed alpine peaks of the United States, appreciated for it's aesthetic beauty. It's easy to see why. My own enthusiasm is subdued knowing that on this visit I can only admire from a safe distance. Climbing has given way to parenting, with it's own rewards and challenges. I ponder whether some day I'll be back with my kids to climb this or some other lesser known peak in the Teton Range, or whether they will share my own avidity for high places. I can only wonder.

Having been inspired by Jack Turner's Teewinot, A Year In the Teton Range just a couple years ago, entering the Teton Valley brought the images from the book to life. Today, just being here with Mariann and the boys is enough. Sharing in yet another natural wonder. On the shore of Jenny lake we watch the gentle breeze sculpt the reflection of the mountains. The sun warms. The shore is yet another playground for four small hands. Playing among the rocks and pebbles, the afternoon wanes.

We spend the night alone, in the parking lot of the Climber's Ranch, already vacated and boarded up for the winter. The sun disappears quickly behind the granite monoliths, the temperatures drop and we prepare for another cold yet comfortable night in our ECamper. Our stay here has been in many ways to short, and we feel as though we are just passing through. However we've been here long enough to be inspired. To feel the chill of the mountain air, and watch the sun as the first rays strike the top of the Grand. Slowly the entire mountain, and range become illuminated. Soon we too are warmed by the morning sun.

Yellowstone - Bison, Bear, and Geysers

2010-10-14T13:48:00.000-07:00

An early season snowfall coated the upper slopes of the Beartooth Mountains closing the Beartooth Pass for the season. According to the National Park website, it was scheduled to close in a couple days anyway, so it wasn't a difficult decision to instead drive up Paradise Valley along the Yellowstone River, through Gardiner and on into Yellowstone National Park. While the quite of the off season was felt heading into the park, we still were able to spot the occasional fly fisherman out enjoying the beautiful fall weather.

Entering Mammoth Hot Springs, we were immediately greeted by herds of elk, the male bulls guarding their harems and keeping us at bay. We sense the faint smell of sulfur and gaze at the rising steam, a lone bison grazes amongst the sagebrush. We wander amongst the bubbling hot springs, looking into the crystal waters full of life, microorganisms giving the water's their iridescent glow.

We pop up our ECamper nearby, and fall asleep to the serenade of bugling elk. Gazing up at the ridge behind our campground we observe a herd slowly grazing against the contrasting starry sky.

The next morning, we head into the Lamar valley searching for more animals, and hoping to spot wolves that may be following the elk down from their summer feeding grounds at the higher elevations. Herds of buffalo graze oblivious, coyotes play along the banks of the river. Autumn color adds a dramatic backdrop to the entire scene.

We spend another night camped nearby, hoping to wake early and perhaps catch sight of wolves, yet the mild weather has kept the elk from migrating, and so to the wolves. The bison are plentiful and impressive. And in the early morning hours we spot a lone grizzly meandering across the valley.

A few hours later, we spot another grizzly, this time much closer. A few cars have already stopped in front of us, giving way to a good sized grizzly, perhaps a little perturbed by the traffic, crossing the road ahead. As it meanders across into the meadow alongside the road, we drive slowly past, admiring the impressive nature of such a beautiful creature.

We feel fortunate to have been so close to such a large number of wild animals, experiencing them in their natural habitat. Sleeping to the sounds of elk, and knowing that we are in grizzly country. Although it's an awkward feeling, there is an admiration and respect rather than any sense of fear. Observing grizzly and bison, we sense their ambivalence to our presence, and we awe at their gracefulness despite their immensity.

Leaving Lamar Valley, we make our way into the Yellowstone Caldera. Stopping to wander the boardwalks amongst geysers and pools, the faint smell of sulfur adds another dimension to the visually dramatic landscape.

Old Faithful is our last stop on our way toward the Tetons. We just miss an eruption, so end up with a late dinner and tired boys. It's been a long day, and seeing the geyser ends up being anticlimactic compared with the other experiences in Yellowstone. We appreciate the more off the beaten track experiences, like camping in remote campgrounds closer to the sounds of nature. Watching the Old Faithful geyser ends up being less dramatic than the random geyser that erupted right behind us earlier in the day while wandering alone among some of the other hot springs. Yet we know we are in a national park, and they are here for everyone to enjoy. We are grateful that there is something for everyone, and that we still can get away from the crowds and have things more to ourselves.

Hopefully our boys will remember some of what they have experienced. At the very least, I'm certain that being here will influence them in some way, even if the details are forgotten.

Bozeman - At home on the road

2010-10-10T10:10:00.000-07:00

As events unfolded over the course of summer, we came in contact with with a family of Norwegian descendants and were invited to come visit on our autumn travels through Montana. And while our journey would have taken us through Bozeman regardless, getting to see and experience a place through the generosity of locals creates a much deeper impression. So while we hadn't travelled far from our previous destination, we again welcomed the sense of hospitality of new friends.

Nestled between the Bridger, Gallatin, and Madison mounain ranges, Bozeman conjures a sense of adventure yet is well balanced by a sense of community. We immediately felt welcome and at home and over the course of a few days were able to experience some of both the community and the outdoors. For us finding a food coop, a local brewery, and coffee roaster sum up some of the things we miss back in Norway. These aren't things that should be exclusive, but should bring all of closer to the source of quality, locally handcrafted and sourced goods at a reasonable price. Searching out the local artisan flavors on our travels, we have met brewers and bakers, roasters and growers. We have gained and even greater appreciation for eating and consuming local products.

In Bozeman, a late morning stroll along a well worn path following a quiet creek brought us to the beginning of the "Main Street to the Mountains Trail". Cutting through golden aspen, birch and willow trees, past parks, and communal gardens, the path never strays more than a few meters from residential areas yet immerses us in a certain wildness. Birds sing, and we can imagine deer and other creatures wandering the same path in the early dawn hours. The community of Bozeman seems to nurture a greater respect for environment and puts forth more effort to maintaining the green open spaces that are vital to our everyday well being.

The new community library serves as the starting point for the trail leading off into the forest. Adorned by locally crafted sculptures and art, the building beckons all to come inside and explore, or sit on the garden in front for a quiet break from the bustle of the city streets. We spend some time in the children's section, reading books and playing before we continued our walk exploration of the city. Eventually, we make our way back to the trail that leads into the hills and mountains beyond that offer even more possibilities.

Our generous hosts led us on a hike up a bluff overlooking Bozeman and the Gallatin Valley. Our combined five children occupied alternately with their own adventures or exploring together.

Venturing further into the Bridger Range we visited Bridger Bowl, winter home for the avid skiers of Bozeman. A number of families had made the short drive up into the mountains this beautiful autumn day for the annual raptor festival, in honor of the many eagles, hawks, and falcons passing over the upper ridges during their yearly migration before the first snow. While the birds headed south, the rest of us were thinking differently about the impending winter. Soon hiking shoes would be replaced by skis and the scene would take on a different, but equally vibrant atmosphere. The locals, like ourselves, appreciative of each season's unique chance to get outside and experience something different.

It is this contrast of the seasons as well as the landscape that likely led most people to Bozeman and the sense of community that keep them here. Whether they be ice climbing in Hyalite Canyon, skiing at Big Sky, fly fishing the Madison River, Bozeman is home to many outdoor enthusiasts. We were grateful to be able to spend a few days at home with them.

All around me quiet.
All around me peaceful.

All around me lasting,
All around me home
- Ute Indian

Bouldering with old friends - Butte Montana

2010-10-07T15:37:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately plans to get out onto one of the big ranches of the Front Range fell through so we sped south across the grassy landscape towards Helena and then on to Butte. The rain continued to fall, so we wouldn't have been able to do much out on the ranch anyway other than get wet. The kids I'm sure would have enjoyed seeing the herds of cattle, and the contrast to the wildness of Glacier National Park would have given our trip another dimension. Instead, we ended up with a night out on the prairie, and then continued on towards Butte and a break in the storms.

It's had been a few years since our last meeting, since Elias was still a baby, but good friends are always there when you call on them. Kevin and family welcomed us in from our journey and harbored us in an old camping trailer in their backyard for a couple nights. It was great with a couple days of home cooked food and catching up on old times with some of the local handcrafted brew.

In the beautiful autumn weather we loaded into Kevin's old Pontiac for a leisurely drive out to the cabin before spending the afternoon exploring the boulders of the Butte Batholith. Since my school days back in the early 90's I'd heard Kevin tell me about the untouched bounty that lie hidden in the hills back home in Montana. Finally after all these years I finally made it out to experience it for myself. But our day in the hills wasn't about old friends pulling down hard boulder problems, it was about hanging out with our families enjoying a serene place and do a little bouldering. I think for both of us, there was more fun watching our kids find their own boulder problems as it was for us to try our own.

Elias got to borrow (and then keep) a pair of real climbing shoes for the first time. The extra psychological edge along with sticky rubber sent him running off in search of new problems to solve. Ladd, Kevin's youngest, got to take the day off from school to come along and show Elias his impressive climbing talent. Frêney tagged along looking for boulders his size to scramble over. It's always a pleasure to watch how children react in the great outdoors, not only with climbing, but exploring. They are always content and have more than enough to keep them occupied. Of course, as climbing dads we also appreciate being able to both hang out in the outdoors ourselves and share our own enjoyment with our kids.

The rumors of the batholith proved to be true, and the Montanan hospitality left us with high spirits as we continued on towards more adventures further south.

Mountain Goats and Grizzlies

2010-10-04T22:33:00.000-07:00

Clouds slowly move in from the west alternately hiding and revealing the ragged peaks of Glacier National Park. Bare aspen trunks mingle with those that still cling to their golden leaves. We drive closer to the heart of the park, climbing up out of the lower reaches and ever closer to the glacier covered peaks. Knowing that a storm is imminent in the next couple days, we hope to get out and enjoy the autumn beauty in this amazing place before the rain sets in.

As the winding road leads higher and higher, more and more peaks come into view. Soon we reach Logan Pass, the apex of the Going to the Sun highway. From here, we continue on foot to explore and get a better sense of this national park. A wooden boardwalk leads further up toward the continental divide, separating the flow of water to the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. Here, we are at the crest of North America. Yet, we are far from alone. As we round a bend in the trail, a herd of Bighorn Sheep graze only a few meters beyond. Somewhat ambivalent, yet keeping a cautious eye on us and our movements. They sense that we are not a threat, but likely a nuisance to their feeding in preparation for the impending winter. Signs of the rut are evident in their behavior, a few of the males stare each other down and clash their spiral horns against each other.

Only a few paces further, around another bend, Mountain Goats come into view. Suddenly, we feel like outsiders, foreign to this natural beauty. These animals that have dwelt in these mountains for ages following the natural rhythm of the land and seasons. We are simply passing through, trying to get a glimpse of the natural beauty of the landscape and it's inhabitants. As we continue, more mountain goats block our path, mothers and their kids annoyed that we are in their way. There is a small sense of urgency, whether imagined or real. Winter is approaching and these animals must prepare for the hostile environment that will ensue. Further on, a solitary male, muscular and majestic, picks through the rocks for shrubs. Whole herds of these beautiful animals slowly come into view, seemingly oblivious to our presence. We try our best not to impede and keep to our little path.

Soon we crest the mountain side to a pass that opens up with wide stretching views to the west of glacial lakes and glacier covered peaks. A fitting home to the animals we passed on the way up. With so much to see even the littlest of legs managed to ascend to these heights.

We return to the road on the same path, yet the views are different. We see the landscape from a different angle, and new flocks of mountain goats come into view. We are the last ones on the mountain it seems, it's just us and these wild animals. The sun begins to fade as we reach the road and as we finish eating dinner a herd of White Tail Deer come to wish us good night and lick the salt from the asphalt.

In the middle of the night a storm moves in. We wake to misty skies and obscured peaks. The scenery continues to be magical, but less inviting. We aren't finished with Glacier National Park, so we drive into the next valley further north hoping the weather holds. As we stop to admire the autumn colors along the way, the faint bugling of elk can be heard in the distance.

The park feels deserted, we drive along at a leisurely place along the narrow valley floor anticipating the unexpected. Another car parked in a narrow turnout causes us to stop and look. Up on the mountainside just a few hundred meters away, a mother Grizzly and two cubs scavenge for food among the talus. From this safe distance we can observe unnoticed. We watch as they slowly make their way across the slope.

As the clouds threaten, we continue onward deeper into the hart of the Many Glacier valley. Reaching the end of the road we gaze skyward scouring the mountainsides for life. Amazingly, solitary mountain goats cling to rocky ledges far above. We can only wonder why these animals choose to inhabit such seemingly inhospitable places. Perhaps they, like us, seek out better views and greater adventure.

As the storm gains momentum, we descend out onto the plains of the Rocky Mountain Front Range. The contrast to the peaks we leave behind and their wildness seems abrupt. For the first time in our journey we begin our travels south. Glacier National Park gave us more than anticipated, from the wild landscape to the beautiful animals. Hopefully these memories will follow us for years to come, and inspire our children to return.

First Glimpse of Glacier National Park

2010-10-02T22:59:00.000-07:00

The tourist season in northern Montana came to an end a few weeks before we arrived. While this didn't come as a surprise, it did create a few logistical challenges as we headed into Glacier National Park. Most of the services were closed for the season, and what we had hoped would be one of the highlights, the Going to the Sun highway, was closed for construction. Thus, we had to get creative. We started our adventure on the western side of Logan Pass and drove as far as the road was open, which allowed us a first impression of the rugged peaks, glacial lakes, and roaring rivers. With a bit of hiking we were able to get away from the road, but being a Saturday with sunny skies and mild temperatures, there were plenty of "local" Montanans out for a hike as well. We packed a picnic lunch and headed up into the mountains along a well trodden path.

Being stuck in a deep valley in thick forest limited our views, but we tramped onward and upward until our stomachs finally could hold out no longer and we found a couple logs to serve as a picnic table. We still couldn't see much, but through the trees we could just see the steep canyon slopes above us and hear the sounds of the river below.

Soon the valley opened up and Avalanche Lake came into view. Above rocky peaks with a few lasting snowfields towered above us. Melting snow fed into a number of waterfalls that crashed down into streams flowing into the alpine lake. Our kids ran out onto the muddy shore toward the water looking for rocks to throw, and dirt to dig. We spent the afternoon chasing the boys out of the water trying not to let their shoes get to wet or muddy for the hike back to the car. Something about mud, water and boys... While we enjoyed the sunshine and views, they continued their play using their imagination.

The hike back was all down hill, so even Frêney managed to walk a ways, actually it was more of a challenge to get him to let us carry him. As we approached the bottom of the canyon we had hiked up, we detoured off onto a boardwalk to look back up at the gorge the river had carved out. The afternoon sun filtered through the conifers, giving enough light to let the clear glacial water glow in a silty green aura. Two brothers, tired from a long hike, strolled hand in hand down the walkway content and hungry.

As the sun set, Mariann made dinner while us boys went bck down to the river to skip a few more rocks and build small boats out of bark and leaves. And as darkness engulfed us, we packed up and searched for a place to park our ECamper and rest for the night.

Indian Summer in Northern Montana

2010-10-01T22:06:00.000-07:00

Whitefish, MT - The sun is shining and the surface of Whitefish Lake is calm enough to reflect the surrounding mountains that rise up from it's shores. The intermittent boat comes and goes across the lake, out enjoying indian summer in Northern Montana. Aware of the forecast for rain in the coming days, we enjoy an afternoon at sandy City Beach. Our boys play with their toy tractors, digging, creating, imagining. The water is cool and refreshing yet the autumn color reminds us that summer is over. For what is probably the last time we try to make the most of this sunshine in this serene setting.

What was that sound?

Driving out of Missoula last night we passed into indian territory, or at least the Flathead Indian Reservation. The public Forest Service roads leading off from the highway disappeared, and as the skies darkened and the stars grew brighter, the more desperate we became to find a place to pull of and set up our ECamper. Eventually we found a dirt road leading off into the forest and decided to give it a shot. After about a half a kilometer, we finally found a spot that looked flat enough to serve our purpose and we hopped out to get set up. After a couple minutes fiddling around, a loud grunting sound and bit of thrashing came from the forested slopes just below us. I tried to ignore it. About a minute later, the same sound could be heard, only this time much closer. In the middle of the dark, in the middle of Montana, I didn't know what to think. But my first reaction was that I wasn't really sure I wanted to find out what it was. My first thought was grizzly. Nothing else I know of makes any kind of similar sound, or tromps around in thick forest in the middle of the night. The flashing grizzly bear crossing sign about a half hour earlier might have also influenced our reaction. Regardless, we put the pop top back down in a hurry and I jumped into the drivers seat and took a deep breath. We debated whether to stick around and see what it actually was, but decided against it. So we'll never know...

We ended up in a hotel that night, which considering we hadn't showered for a few days was a nice after a few long days on the road. We made it up to Whitefish for lunch under clear blue skies and enjoyed the afternoon lazying around on the beach. Traveling this time of year, we missed the summer crowds and it was still a couple months until skis season transforms Whitefish back into a resort town. We got to hang out with the locals, and feel less like tourists. Unfortunately, the local microbrewery was closed for a few days for fall cleaning, so we missed out on sampling the local brew, but Montana Coffee Traders was across the street so we strolled over and sampled fresh roasted coffee instead.

With glacially sculpted mountains looming over we were relieved to have made it this far north and looking forward to visiting Glacier National Park. Including our detour through the Sawtooths, our journey north had gone quickly yet we were able to do more than just sit in our car and watch the scenery pass by. The diversity of the American West and it's vastness reminded us of the differences between ideology when it comes to resources and open space. It's hard to fathom what living off the land in the middle of Montana is like for someone cooped up in an office in San Francisco. Hopefully be seeing these places, and experiencing them, we have a more open view to the plight of people everywhere and an appreciation for diversity. In places like Whitefish, there seems to be a balance between those that live off of the land and those that solely recreate on the land. Yet, both share a respect and understanding of the need for sustainability.

Whitefish left us wishing we had more time to spend, and that we could experience the area with snow. But for the one day we had there, we relaxed and immersed us in the beauty that it presented us with.

Fire on the Mountain - The Sawtooths of Idaho

2010-09-30T21:56:00.000-07:00

Headed north, toward the Glacier National Park, the landscape slowly changes. The High Desert of Nevada gives way first to the farmlands of Idaho. And then, on a whim, we detour off onto the Sawtooth Scenic byway, and soon signs of autumn become prevalent. Suddenly we are immersed in fall beauty. Driving past the resort towns of Ketchum and Sun Valley, the colors began to emerge in the aspen covered hillsides. The mountains come alive and entire mountainsides are seemingly on fire. Reds, oranges and yellows contrast the bright blue sky and we slow our pace to take in the awe inspiring colors. And as the hillsides grew steeper and bigger, the colors became more vibrant.

While the kids slept in their car seats, we did our best not to wake them, but around every corner a new picture unfolded, aspen, birch, and willow groves, the evergreens, and the jagged peaks of the Sawtooths. Eventually, we pulled over to let them enjoy some of the splendor we had brought them to see.

As we drove up an dirt side road, we were stopped by a herd of sheep being brought down from their summer pastures by a cowboy and his sheepdogs. Signs of autumn abounded. Pronghorn antelope graze alongside the road around a few more turns in the road.

We found a campground for the night along the Salmon river. The steep valley slopes obscured the sun early and after a couple long days on the road we put the boys to bed early, and soon fell asleep ourselves.

The cold was the first thing we noticed when we awoke. Ice and frost coated everything and our digits quickly froze. Two cold frozen and unhappy boys encouraged us to pack early to find a sunny spot for breakfast and fortunately only a few bends further down the river we found a spot where the sun already had begun to warm and melt the frozen world we awoke to. After a warming breakfast, the kids frolicked in the sun, throwing rocks into the river. I wonder whether there is an innate urge to pick up rocks and hurl them into water? It seems as though they could spent hours just scouring the river's edge finding the right stones to pick and throw.

Only a couple days into our journey and we've already found autumn. We wonder what lies ahead and whether it can match the splendor we've already experienced in the Sawtooths. We continue north to find out.

Crossing Nevada

2010-09-29T11:06:00.000-07:00

As we leave the Sierra Nevada behind us, the landscape becomes more barren and monotonous. Mountains and hills still obscure the horizon, but forests have led to dry sage covered wilderness. While far from flat, Nevada still seems endless. Speeding along the freeway following the contours of the landscape, we weave our way in and out of smaller mountains or hills slowly making our way east.

Somewhere along the way we stop for a snack and a chance to stretch our legs. Here at a rest stop in the middle of nowhere, a rusted sign commemorates the California Trail. Over 150 years ago pioneers in search of a better life struggled across this same landscape at a snails pace, pulled along by ox and horse in covered wagons. Imagining the heat of the summer, and the biting cold of winter we are grateful we can cross this desolate landscape in a few long hours, instead of months. It gives our journey a bit more perspective and a greater appreciation for the struggles of those in eras past.

As the day begins to wane, we see our first signs of color in an otherwise drab landscape. The Ruby Mountains rise a bit higher than the surrounding hills, and jut into alpine peaks. Along their upper slopes, autumn has arrived. While from a distance, the orange and yellow hues seem to fade into each other, they still provide a welcome contrast to a long day speeding across the Great Basin. We finally pull off the freeway for the night and pop up our ECamper, looking ahead to a slower pace tomorrow north towards Idaho and along more scenic byways.

Chasing Autumn

2010-09-27T09:20:00.000-07:00

Every fall for just a few short weeks a window opens into a magical and colorful world. Not everywhere is the magic as apparent, but we set out to find a few places where the autumn color was resplendent enough to inspire. We put together a rough plan over the course of a long summer and by the time we were finally able to set off, we weren't sure how our timing would work out. We simply looked forward to hitting the road experiencing new places and cooling off after the warm dry summer. If we were able to catch just a bit of color on the way, it'd add that much more to our journey, but just being on the road spending time together was enough to satisfy. Looking at our destinations though, the chance for something new and exciting was pretty good. Using the National Parks as waypoints, we figured we'd experience some impressive natural wonders. As a bonus, we'd be visiting in the off season again and hopefully have places more to ourselves.

As we look at the calendar, our year is slowly coming to an end. We hope for one last final journey to cap off what has been a special year for the whole family.

We begin our journey in Truckee, where the first signs of fall have already arrived. Cooler temperatures have brought the changing of the aspen. The golden leaves of aspen groves contrasting to the surrounding evergreen pine and fir forests. The water in Donner Lake was already cooling back off, but the sun still warmed enough to get us all out for a short dip. However, Truckee was more about visiting cousin Sage once again before we head back to Norway in December. In January we moved into a little one room annex on my sister's house in Truckee where we spent the winter. Frêney and Sage were still learning to walk and spent most of the time on the floor and watching them grow this past year has been a highlight. As we wind down our time in California, we are fortunate our kids have been able to spend time with all their cousins and develop a closer relationship to them.

Grandpa's Garden

2010-08-22T22:38:00.000-07:00

Every evening around dinner time has been harvest time in Grandpa's garden. As the summer sun warmed and nurtured, seedlings grew into hearty plants full of fruits and vegetables begging to be picked and tasted. For the kids, watching the plants grow has taught them a little something about the course of nature, and where our food comes from. For us adults, each tomato, or leaf of basil was something to be savored in a salad or on it's own.

Despite a dry hot summer, a drip irrigation system has kept the garden full of life in the scorching California sunshine. For us, each cherry tomato or green bean has been a reminder of the intricate web of life that sustains us. We have watched the garden mature from the planting of seeds in spring to observing the first seedlings slowly grow and finally mature and bear fruit. All summer we've had our own farmer's market right outside the door. Freshly picked greens, ripe tomatoes, carrots, and cucumber's have provided our daily salad. Zucchini in every size, mostly big, add nutrient to breakfasts and dinners. Sunflowers reaching for the sky inspire awe as we crane our necks to watch the vibrant yellow flowers tracing the path of the sun across the sky, hanging delicately from their own long slender necks.

In early August, wild blackberries came into season adding another delicacy to pick and enjoy. Each morning, we'd head out into the thorny vines to pick berries for smoothies, or just to liven up granola, pancakes, or porridge.

Beyond Bouldering

2010-07-26T09:06:00.000-07:00

Upon being asked when he started climbing, the Norwegian eco-philosopher Arne Næss elegantly replied, "When did you stop climbing?" Most of us were climbers growing up, whether it be trees, or sofas, stairs, or rock walls. As we grow older, most of us neglect that innate desire to climb and challenge ourselves in the vertical realm. For those of us that do climb, the urge to feel the pull of gravity and air beneath our feet manifests in many ways, whether it be climbing a frozen pillar of ice or bouldering under the warm desert sun. Climbing isn't always something that comes naturally, it's a skill that needs to be cultivated not only physically but mentally. Bringing our children out on the rock has seemed like a natural extension of the outdoor activities they already have been accustomed to. Climbing is not something we pushed them into, it's something we allow them to experience themselves and find their own limits and challenges.

While we were traveling near Vancouver this spring, we were camped along a fjord with a few large boulders along the shore. A natural narrow staircase-like feature led up one of them so Elias and I decided to check it out. Upon reaching the top I realized there was no easy way down and had to jump about 10 feet onto the sand. Elias, however, was intent on climbing to the top and it took quite a bit of coercion to get him to stop and climb back down. His ambition was greater than the potential consequences and he would have soon been higher than I safely could have spotted him. I realized then that his desire for climbing was real and that maybe it was time for him to get his own harness. So I promised him when we got back to California we'd see if we could pick one up.

So this summer, we first borrowed a harness Elias' size (and a full body harness for his little brother) and headed to a small little granite wall that I used to take clients to when I worked as a rock climbing guide. I wasn't sure how Elias would react or how far he would get considering I'd never taken anyone his age climbing before. I'd seen plenty of other kids and grown ups freeze up and not be able to tackle the height, or the challenge of finding and using the features to get up. After explaining the easiest way up, I put Elias on belay and let him try to figure as much out on his own as he could. With a bit of coaching and encouragement, he slowly made his way up to the top anchor. For anybody who's ever climbed before knows, getting to the top is often only half the challenge. Rappelling back down can be more unnerving and difficult. I explained that because of his light weight Elias was going to need to really lean back and walk backwards down the cliff. Like a pro he did exactly what he was supposed to and was soon back on flat ground ready for more.

Frêney, of course wanted to follow in his brother's footsteps so we put a harness on him and watched him try to get up the wall. After a few minutes he was frustrated and finished. What seemed like fun wasn't quite as expected. Soon enough though he'll move on from bouldering on rocks his size and be following his brother up longer and more difficult ascents. As outdoor parents we'll be happy to seem them pursue adventures in the mountains and be sure to observe and cultivate their interests, whatever they end up being.

Backpacking in the High Sierra

2010-07-24T22:25:00.000-07:00

As we gaze at the imposing jagged peaks surrounding us, we try to forget the mosquitoes and enjoy our pristine surroundings. We find ourselves amongst some of the most spectacular mountains in northern Yosemite, polished white granite contrasting with a crystal clear blue skies and alpine lakes. Here, we are bringing our children closer to nature, showing them some of the beauty that has influenced our own lives and decisions. We've brought our boys here to get away from the unpleasant summer heat of the lower elevations.

Since returning from our journey through the northwest back in June, we've spent most of our time in the foothills feeling the temperatures rise and summer slowly take hold. I've been fortunate to work up in the mountains guiding other families, but not fortunate enough to wander amongst the peaks and lakes with my own family. The time was ripe to set out on a new adventure, if only for a few days, and experience the alpine world together.

After looking through maps of the Sierra Nevada, we found an area that seemed perfect for the whole family. The 20 Lakes Basin in the shadow of Mt. Conness and North Peak stood out as the ideal destination. A basin filled with lakes beneath towering peaks, flat enough for Elias to hike without getting exhausted, for mom to carry Frêney, and for dad to carry everyone's stuff. With a boat ride across Saddlebag Lake we were also able to knock off a couple extra kilometers of the approach.

As we rode across the lake in the late afternoon, the mountains rose up around us and we let ourselves be inspired. While we knew we headed into a beautiful place, the spontaneous planning and logistics had kind of taken our minds off of our true intentions. Suddenly we were surrounded by colorful volcanic summits to the east, and stately granite peaks to the west. But as soon as we stepped off the boat, we were met by another force of nature. With the wet and late winter, the mosquitoes have found haven in the valleys amongst the lakes and meadows, and now we were smack dab in the middle of both. We tried to fight them off as best as we could, and held off as long as we could trying to keep focused on the spectacular scenery.

We camped next to an alpine lake, just a few hundred meters from where we got off the boat. Deer grazed in a meadow across the creek as the sun set behind granite spires. We swatted mosquitoes and went to bed early, finding respite from the constant drone in the confines of our tent. The moonlight and stars illuminating the rock and snow surrounding us.

The sun warming our tent woke us. We braved the swarms and quickly ate and packed so that we could head further into the mountains, and hopefully find somewhere less habitable for the mosquitoes. As the scenery became even more alpine we found an area of granite slabs, where the occasional breeze seemed to keep the mosquitoes at bay. Here we set up camp and spent the afternoon swimming in the cool waters and relishing in the landscape. In a natural zen rock garden among scraggly pines and abundant flowers, I bouldered on impeccable granite.

Toward the evening, the mosquitoes found us. We did our best to hold off, but eventually they sent us into our tent seeking refuge.

I rose early the next morning to revel in the early morning light, alone for a few minutes before the rest of the family also awoke to bask in the glory of the surrounding peaks. Despite the mosquitoes, we reveled in the warming sun. Though with puffy speckled faces, we decided to capitulate. We took a short hike to fill our water bottles in a nearby cascade, before heading back to the ferry and homeward. Inspired, yet somewhat dismayed that we couldn't stay longer. Someday we can hopefully return and again experience these towering granite peaks and pristine alpine lakes.

Driving the Pacific coast - An Ecamper review

2010-07-03T17:31:00.000-07:00

As we drove northward, we plowed through the rain, intent on reaching our northernmost destination of Tofino, British Columbia. It had been a long haul, not being able to get out onto the beach as much as we had hoped, but still getting plenty wet and dirty. However, the precipitation gave us a chance to become more acquainted with our Ecamper and see what it could handle.

After a winter season skiing near Lake Tahoe, we already knew some of the advantages of our Element and as we became more familiar we were able to validate our reasoning behind choosing a Honda. A few short road trips also got us ready for a longer trip with our ECamper. We still didn't know what to expect, but assumed that driving along the coast as far north as British Columbia, and then heading into the Cascades, we could be exposed to just about anything, from rain to snow. And sure enough, we hit more weather than we actually had anticipated, but survived just fine.

So looking back, how did the ECamper hold up with a family of four on the road for five weeks? With two youngsters in car seats, we knew we already had a challenge every night getting set up to sleep two (usually one adult and one kid) up in the pop top, and two down below. Already from some of our shorter trips, we knew we could actually get everything rearranged and set up from inside. So in a downpour we never actually had to get out of the car to get to bed. This came in handy as we headed north into the rain forests of the Northwest.

Being a Honda, we figured we had a reliable vehicle and after a winter in the mountains driving through snow and rain and then a long trip on small coastal roads, our expectations were confirmed. Even without the ECamper, we would have been happy, but with the pop top, we were self contained and could park just about anywhere (legal) and spend the night in relative comfort.

Some basics of the ECamper, as noted, the entire thing can be popped up and put away from inside the car, even with two kids in car seats and a months worth of camping luggage, it just takes a bit of creativity. Putting the pop top up is an easy process, just two small clamps above the driver and front passenger doors that can be reached with an arms width crack in the window, and two additional clasps on the back are released from straps hanging down from where the sunroof was. The sunroof is also the easiest way to to get into the pop top, although it's also easy to climb in from outside as well, using the back wheels as a ladder.

The ECamper is well ventilated, so it's easy to adjust temperature and airflow with built in screens, or by opening the canvas flaps all the way. The flaps open up along the entire back of the pop top, as well as a couple feet forward along the sides. There's a nice cushion over the entire bed platform, so it's easy to get a good nights sleep.

On our five weeks, four of them in rainy weather, we only had one incident where the ECamper left us a bit wet, and likely this was more due to pilot error than anything else. We backed into a rain storm on Tofino looking out over the Pacific Ocean and as the wind and rain increased through the night water somehow started to seep in. My guess though is had we not gone for the ocean view, we could have stayed high and dry since otherwise we haven't had any problems with getting wet before or after.

The ECamper with it's combination of Honda Element versatility, with the practicality of of a pop top, has created an ideal vehicle, not only for day to day use but also to hit the road for a few days, few weeks or longer. It's going to be hard to part with once we do have to head back to Norway after our year of adventuring.

Wild Salmon and Domesticated Goats - Victoria BC

2010-05-30T14:14:00.000-07:00

After the rainy weather in the Olympics, and basically since leaving San Francisco a few weeks prior, Victoria offered a welcome respite. Despite having just left Portland a few days earlier, it was still nice to be in a city again. We didn't completely escape the rain, but intermittent periods of sunshine allowed to enjoy wandering the city. The Children's Farm kept us busy for a couple hours, staring down peacocks and chasing the baby goats. We also made it down to the waterfront to Red Fish Blue Fish, for a healthy portion fish and chips and tacones, made with fresh wild salmon.

A serendipitous meeting at a small cafe provided yet more inspiration for our journey further north, toward the Pacific Rim National Park. Leaving Victoria, the skies cleared as we reached the lush Cowichan Valley. Here we found our way to the Drumroaster Coffee Company, where a transplanted family from Stavanger has set up shop. We spent most of the morning learning more about the art of coffee roasting, as well as enjoying fresh roasted coffee and baked pastries. We could have stayed longer in the Cowichan Valley and the charming village of Cowichan Bay, but still being the off season, many shops were closed, and particularly the bakery where we were hoping to stock up on fresh bread.

Instead we continued out journey across the still wild and scenic Vancouver Island, reaching the west coast as the sun was beginning to set. We set up camp and looked forward to a few days on the long white beaches of the Pacific Rim.

The Rainy Pacific Northwest - Olympic National Park

2010-05-28T22:05:00.000-07:00

The rain continued to fall as we left Portland. Not suprising perhaps since we were headed toward the rain forests of Olympic National Park. Up until we reached Portland, we had followed the coast s much as possible and had a sense of where we were headed. Leaving Portland though set us off on a new adventure. All we knew was that we were still headed north toward Victoria British Columbia, but how we get there was a matter of making decisions underway. Olympic National Park seemed like a worthy destination so we braved the rain and made our way out toward the Pacific coast once again.
The drive toward Olympic, left as gazing at mile after mile of "managed" forests, and left us eager to once again see nature in it's original, natural state. Driving through areas that had been logged at one time or another the last 50 or so years reminded us of the importance of preserving areas of natural beauty through national or state parks.

Once we reached Lake Quinault on the southwest corner of Olympic National Park, we suddenly realized we had reached the northwest corner of the United States. Sure we arrived a little early for tourist season, but the Lake seemed almost eerily devoid of other tourists or infrastructure. We ended up parking our ecamper at a trailhead since there weren't any campgrounds open yet. As it was, it wasn't a bad place to sleep, quiet and beautiful nestled among old growth spruce, ferns and mosses. The rain held off for a few hours in the morning and we were able to take a little hike through the rainforest and enjoy the sounds of cascades and birds, and experience the unique ecosystem up close.

In contrast to California and Oregon, Washington doesn't have much of a coastal highway so only sporadically were we able to catch a glimpse of the Pacific. Despite being relatively short though, the drive along the coast differed from our earlier ventures in California and Oregon. Rocky, and rugged as before, but different. As we ate lunch at Ruby Beach looking, we again sensed that we were a long way from mainstream America. While we weren't alone, there was a feeling that those who had ventured this far had truly been on an adventure. As we wandered across the pebble beach, Elias and Frêney found rocks to stack, and sticks to play with. Logs washed up on the shore became boats as their fantasies guided them in this magical place. With sea stacks, and spruce, a quiet stream, and a whole lot of driftwood, this pebble beach turned into a playground of infinite dimensions. Even for us grown ups, it was easy to become kids again, looking among the rocks and logs for who knows what, or climbing on a sea stack in the low tide. Of all the beaches we had experienced on our travels north, this one had something a little more special. We wandered across the rocks, weathered and rounded by the surf, over logs washed up from near or far.

With heavy clouds hanging over us, we tried to make a plan for the next day or two. Naturally, we wanted to see and experience more of Olympic National Park, particularly Hurricane Ridge with views over the Olympic Mountains. We stayed one more night, at Sol Duc, with a dip in the hot springs, before we gave up on seeing any more of the mountains and headed across the Juan De Fuca Strait to Canada.

Portland, Oregon - Urban adventures

2010-05-28T17:23:00.000-07:00

After a couple weeks along the wild Pacific coast, it was a little strange to be headed inland. At the same time it was great to break the routine of camping and getting wet and dirty. For a couple days we traded in the spectacular coastal scenery for more urban adventures.

Small children and big cities. Having done a little background reading on Portland, we had a few things we wanted to see and experience, but how to fit in meals and naps remain a challenge. To keep it simple, we simply kept our expectations reasonable, and fit in what we were able to fit in. It's often hard to decide what few things to prioritize when there is seemingly so many interesting things to see and do in Portland, but we decided to spend one day roaming the cities famous gardens, and another wandering through the downtown shops and streets.

In the middle of downtown lie the beautiful Lan Su Yuan gardens. Enclosed within a single city block, the garden is haven of tranquility amongst the tall buildings and bustling atmosphere of downtown Portland. Being May, the gardens were absent of crowds and hurry and we could slowly take our time to appreciate the immaculate handwork that not only went into creating the park, but also the ongoing work to keep it in such a serene state. We meandered quietly admiring the ornate chinese architecture and the colorful blossoms before walking back out into the bustling streets of Portland.

The Portland Japanese Gardens are just a small part of a much larger garden and park complex on a hillside overloking the city. Somewhat accessible by streetcar, we still were left with a short and scenic hike through the Hoyt Arboretum. Hiking to the gardens, I was reminded that one of the things that makes a great city i the presence of green corridors and easy access to larger areas of forest and park. Portland has a plethora of green areas, as well as mountain views and the confluence of two major rivers. It is a city with a slow pace that makes it easy to relax and enjoy. And while the walk to the Japanese Gardens itself was enjoyable, the gardens themselves were even more tranquil and inspiring.

As we made our way through the intricate pathways, we tried to slow our tempo and notice the details. Elias and Frêney found their own pace. Particularly the "deer chaser" caught Elias' interest. The bamboo fountain was made of a tube that slowly filled with water until it became unbalanced and tipped over creating a loud "thonk" and then rebounding to be filled once again. Whether it was the engineering, or simply the simple design and sound, he sat there for quite some time following along with the almost meditative repetition of filling and emptying.

The waterfalls, bridges, and zen rock gardens required time to fully admire. We made our rounds and tried to capture some of the beauty on film, but mostly it was the combination of the peaceful surroundings with the natural beauty and intricate design that kept us engaged and inspired.

Across the road from the Japanese Gardens lie the International Rose Test Garden, with seemingly infinite varieties of roses. Unfortunately, we were in town a few weeks early for blooming to really impress but the gardens themselves were beautifully laid out with sculptures and views of the city below.

The following morning, Elias asked if we could return to the Japanese Gardens so they must have made an impression. Instead though, we spent the day wandering the streets of downtown trying to get a sense of the urban beat. And while with two kids, we were somewhat limited in how much we could do and see. We were still left with a great impression of Portland as a city that we actually could call home, and this despite the unseasonal rain that fell everyday we were there.

One of the last things we had hoped to fit in was a visit to the weekly farmer's market. On our way out of town we stopped by to be inspired by the locally grown produce, handcrafted cheeses, and locally brewed kombucha.