We're baaack!

I know, it's been months since our return, and we've neglected to update our blog. We heard our friends and family loud and clear and after a hiatus, we are making every attempt to stay current and post pictures as often as possible.

This fall has been a bit crazy for us. The apple cider season threw us a few curveballs, but we swung anyway, and ended up pressing about 180 gallons of cider. Most of that went into sweet cider, but a fair amount went into fermenters, and this year we produced and sold apple cider syrup. Our Italian grinder that we purchased this year cut our production time easily by half, maybe more.

Now that the apple gear is packed away for another year, we prepared ourselves for a long, hard winter, according to the Farmer's Almanac.

That leads us to last weekend's blizzard, where we enjoyed 20 inches of fluff in a day. Ahhh...snow day! The girls received their early Christmas gifts from Ann and Dave--new sleds--just in time to enjoy the feast of snow. Anyone passing by our hill could hear giggling and screaming as the new sleds raced down Dragonfly Hill.

We enjoyed the holidays quietly at home, never too far from the woodstove. It was a year to remember loved ones who are no longer here with us. We explained to the girls that this year would be a slimmer holiday, and not to expect too much. Sara's response was, "But we'll still get stockings, right?" Despite this, both girls labored over the making and wrapping of each other's gifts...a homemade game for Sara...a cardboard "house" for Ali's webkin, Lia. And of course, the homemade ornaments, my personal favorite.

We were lacking in the initiative and time to do cards this year, so look for a New Year's salutation from the Bergeron clan.

Let us know that you are reading the blog...and we'll be more motivated to keep it updated!

Much love,
Shannon, et. al.

Teddy Roosevelt and the Bison

At this point in our trip we have decided to head back home. We are on beauty, grandeur, stupidity, consumerism overload. We have seen so much raw nature, so much nature tainted by love of the American dollar, so many people...time to head back to quiet Mt. Vernon. Teddy Roosevelt National Park just happened to be in our path home so we planned a stop there. We drove through desolate and desperate Indian Reservation land to get to North Dakota where we were met with mile after mile of crop land. Suddenly rising out of the flatness were great buttes and rocky crags. We found a pleasant site and had a fairly uneventful afternoon and nutritious meal. The girls all set out for the evening ranger program and I stayed with Biesel to read a bit. The ranger program was interrupted by a herd, 100 head or so, of rut season Bison. This is, of course, pretty ironic in that Teddy had a penchant for killing such game. Big gray-headed male leader guy was nose to tail with one of the younger female hotties. Other males were challenging. The ladies were doing there best to ignore the flagrant displays of machismo and bravura. Meanwhile, back at camp I'm hearing snorting and grunting and stomping that sounds pretty darn close. I open the camper door to see a great big male in our camp site chomping down on the dry grass and scratching himself on the big oak outside our door. I spent the next 20 minutes watching the herd move across the park following the barked orders of alpha boy. The girls came back right before dark escorted by some other campers with flash lights and nerve. They had been surrounded for most of the evening and hadn't even been able to get to the bathhouse to tinkle.
In the morning we headed out toward Minneapolis and a surprise for the girls. Throughout the trip the girls had been noticing these great big hotels with indoor water parks with tube slides penetrating the walls to the outdoors. We decided to surprise them with a night in a hotel, a nice meal, some swimming, and most importantly...showers. We got clean and headed out to a highly recommended family owned Mexican Restaurant and had an incredible and incredibly inexpensive meal. The girls had such a great time playing in the pool and mommy and daddy had a relaxing time in the huge hot tub in our master suite. It was the perfect gluttonous ending to our trip. Next time: big big rain, storm chasing, coming home.

Glacier National Park

We pulled into Glacier National Park from the western side and entered directly into the Disney World of Hell and Wax Museum. Shops, boutiques, food galleries...the Wal-mart of the National Park Service. We found our way to one of the most out of the way campgrounds, Bowman Lake, which is accessible only by 30 miles of washed-out washboard dirt road, expecting to have the grizzlies to ourselves. What a surprise when we found ourselves accompanied on the trek by obese and limping mini-vans, and ubiquitous Buick sedans. Talk about ego deflation. Here we are in Biesel, our off-road tank of love, feeling the power of her big Cummins engine and the grip of her 35 inch tires, only to be surrounded by a certain segment of the population with their expected vehicles, dogs, cigarettes, and loud new-country music.

To counterbalance this suburban strip-mall experience we were continually enchanted by a family of deer who seemed to think that we were part of their scenery and entertainment. They strolled right through our campsite and nested down mere feet from us and never gave a start. Please keep in mind that we have a bit of a love/hate relationship with deer. At home in Maine they love us and we hate them. You see, the deer seem to crave all of the best that we have growing in our yard: apple trees, pear trees, beets, greens, onions, blueberries. Pacifist vegetarian mushballs that we are, we can't help but hope a group of hunters will have a really good year in our neighborhood this fall.

After one night hiding out in Bowman we decided to make our way East and take in the views of the Going to the Sun Road. It was truly magnificent winding through the park and seeing the glaciers and waterfalls and incredible vistas. Only the feeling of being a lemming or a camel in a single file caravan moving in slo-mo controlled by traffic lights and flag-bearers tainted the experience. We left the park and made our way to the South-Eastern corner and Two Medicine Campground.

Finally a genuine camping pleasure. Two Medicine was near capacity but seemed to be occupied by people that had as similar a take on the universe as we do.

The views were stunning and the lake clear as a contact lens. We hiked up to Scenic Point, about 7 miles round trip, to one of the most breathtaking sights. The girls were super troopers and only whined on the uphill (read: the entire first half of the hike). Sara caught her second wind on the down hill and nearly ran down the mountain. We attended the Ranger Presentation that night and learned about the past of the Two Medicine area and the Blackfoot Indians who lived there. Super powerful presentation by a man in character as an Irish priest who had settled with the Natives when he realized that it was impossible and pointless to try and convert them. Truly a moving experience.

We woke early the next day and headed toward Minnesota and a surprise for the girls...and so it will be for you faithful readers as well.

Note--you can click on the pictures to enlarge them (at least it works on our computer)

Wind, Cold, Lighthouse: Got to Move On.

Our drive to Oregon didn't take very long as we were so far North in Cali. However, the drive from any one point on Route 101 to any other adjacent point along that dog forsaken highway took at least one lifetime. We sincerely expected to fall in love with the Pacific Northwest. We had been told over and over again that it is just like Maine but hipper, with no bugs and no snow (except at elevation for the snow).

If the drive up the coast was any indication, we'll stick with Maine. It wasn't any prettier than the Maine coast and the traffic moved just as slow, if not slower. And did I mention that it was stupid windy and only about 58 degrees. At least in Maine summer feels like summer. We couldn't take the brain and soul crushing tedium any longer and stopped at Cape Blanco State Park for the night.

Great little park on the water with the distinction of housing the oldest and furthest west lighthouse in Oregon. The Girlies wanted to play at the beach and swim. After 20 minutes or so we headed back to camp and the girls exclaimed that they weren't cold because they, infact, couldn't feel anything at all. They were frozen. We had a pleasant evening and took a hike to the lighthouse the next morning. Crazy l'ass wind. Great tour up into the light. Super views of the fog and wind. Moved out and up the coast.

Well, 101 hadn't gotten any better overnight. By the time that we reached the intersection with Route 20 we just had to change our plans. We consulted our map and decided to head east toward Corvallis, grab I-5 North and head directly to Glacier National Park. We stopped at a great farmstand in Corvallis and stocked up for the trip. Fresh fruits and veggies and honey sticks for the little ones. We made it just over the Montana border before I needed some shut-eye. We boon-docked at the Welcome Center Rest Area. Someday I'll tell you just how gross every single men's room was on this entire trip around our beautiful country. We caught a few hours of sleep and headed into Missoula for breakfast, fuel, and laundry-mat. Then we trekked North to Glacier...and what a time we had.

Sara's California Post:

We were just on a trail at Mill Creek Campsite. We have site number 55. Maybe it's 54, I can't remember. We saw giant trees and took some pictures of Ali and I standing in front of and on some. We also saw a different kind of slug than we have at home. They are called Banana slugs. They have flaps over their heads and have one long spike down their backs. So long!

Holy...Hole-y...Wholly Trees Fat Squirrel

We entered Redwoods National and State Park at dusk and by the serpentine scenic route. If the trees were going to be impressive in full sun they were surely ominous and surreal in the dim of the day. The gauze of filtered light that made it through the canopy had the effect of smudging the edges of the trees, making them seem less distinct and even larger than their true might. The twisty slalom of country road had us heading directly at these beasts at times and careening around them as we made our way to Mill Creek Campground.


Our first evening was uneventful except for the banana slugs that populate the forest. It seems that the only thing these slime-ball behemoths won't eat is Redwood trees. Every other plant or decomposing matter is up for grabs, so these guys breed (at least I think they do...perhaps they just divide or clone or xerox) like neon icky bunnies. Did I mention that they are huge? We saw one that was almost a foot long.

We woke and hiked for the first half of the day through incredible old-growth forest. These are the true elders of our planet and a powerful presence to be around. At every switchback we encountered a tree that was more grand, more stately, more prescient. I felt as though I was surrounded by my own ancestors and that all of the wisdom of the universe was right there, in my reach. This one day and hike was worth the cost of this trip.

We attended a hep little ranger presentation that night about the geology of the Redwood area and the Left Coast as a whole. Lots about plates and friction and volcanoes and tsunamis and the impending doom that will befall all of the critters living within the first hundred feet above sea level on the coast. The girls loved the whole talk, especially the part where Ali, as volunteer, handed out Oreos to all the participants. After using them as a prop to show how the plates move about and shove up piles of stuff (creamy filling) into mountain ranges, everyone got to eat their individual plates and their newly formed range.

In the morning, we would leave the park and head up the brief remainder of the California coast to Oregon...See you there.

Coasting, Drifting, Living on the Road

We did indeed coast downhill finding a fuel stop with local wheat apricot ale and a killin' stout...and diesel, too. We headed to the coast to make our way toward Redwood National Park. As we passed Arcata, our most rockin' friend, Jennifer Wennifer, came to mind. For a time we had planned to hook up with her in California for a week or so of our roadtrip. At one point the plan included her flying into the Arcata area to meet us. Had that plan worked out, 'The Lady” would have needed a pilots license or a hang-glider as the airport was about the size of our front yard and the windsock looked like it might have been one of my long lost woolies that seem to go AWOL in the washing and drying process. We had a hearty laugh and a quick but solemn tear that JW couldn't make the trip this year. Perhaps another year we will rendezvous in a leftist South American country and J Wo can sneak in under the cover of night by one-woman "nucular (ha ha Wubya)" sub.

Coming soon...adventures from the Redwoods National Park!