The Pacific Northwest

Ashleigh on Cape Flattery Trail in 2019

The Upper Left

How many Americans ever get to go to the far Upper Left of the continental U.S.?

How many of us will stand at Cape Flattery looking past the rocky cliffs pummeled by Pacific crests, pondering how far we are from the rest of the continental U.S.?

That bracing view, that feeling of the whole world wanting to rush in on endless waves.

The Return Trip

Well, we were lucky enough to go there in 2018 and 2019, and we tried to go back in the summer of 2020. We made it all the way to Deception Pass State Park on the northern tip of Whidbey Island but the air was choked with smoke from fires all along the West Coast in California, Oregon, and Washington. We camped there for one night*, ready to start our adventure to the Olympic Peninsula – but turned around when air quality advisories implored us to stay inside.

* One thing to note when camping on Whidbey Island: there's a Naval Base there… (click for video).

Inside… in our case, on Whidbey, we’d be holed up inside our van, with far less living space (and less air-tight) than a traditional house. We had to make a decision: stay in Washington State breathing bad air for another week or longer, or retreat back east across the state and escape the fires. We retreated; the smoke had choked us out.

North Cascades National Park

One good thing did come of that trip: North Cascades National Park.

You hear about Glacier National Park in Montana and Banff in Canada. You hear less about North Cascades National Park.

We first heard about it from friends Kevin and Sabrina in 2018. We spent only a few days there in summer 2020 and want to go back as soon as we can. Don’t miss it if you’re near Seattle.

That’s the thing about the Upper Left, and the whole Pacific Northwest. It’s far. From Boulder, it would take about three days to drive there if we hustled – to Jackson Hole in one full day, then to Spokane in one more long day of driving, and then to North Cascades arriving on the third night. Realistically, it’s more like five days if we stopped once or twice along the way – like in Yellowstone or Grand Teton National Park, which we’d otherwise just barely graze.

Venturing as far northwest as North Cascades puts us very close to the Olympic Peninsula…

You can see the impression the Pacific Northwest made on us – always plotting our way back.

Namago Retreat to Sedona

We went west on Friday, March 6th – right on the cusp of the world turning upside down. The world was on edge, but hadn’t yet tipped.

We had bought our flights only one week prior, having delayed our return to van life, and so far having planned only five weeks on the road.

The van had been in Reno since Joe dropped it off three months prior at the beginning of December. We picked it up from the repair place, and the next morning got breakfast and hot beverages at Coffeebar just like the good old days, and then got on the road! We might have done a quick shop that day or somewhere along the way, on our trip to Ashland for a night. On Sunday, we arrived in Portland. On Monday, we arrived at our Airbnb, two days ahead of the Tool show. This workspace/home-base was strategic. Our friends would be arriving over the next two days, and we were planning to see Tool in Portland and then Eugene.

On Tuesday, Joe started to feel cold and achy. Ashleigh blamed the chair, and the Nest thermostat. Perhaps… but Joe tried walking and stretching and warming up, and nothing worked. It was slightly curious and yet further unremarked upon through bedtime. Luckily (in retrospect) Johnny had dropped out due to increased Coronavirus concerns and responsibilities, and canceled his flight. But even he up to that point was still 50/50. Ryan and Sara had recommitted to flying out the next day, but then the airline canceled their flight. Concerns over the Coronavirus were increasing. The show was the next night.

By the next morning, Wednesday, March 11, Joe woke up sweating. He had been tossing and turning since the early morning hours. He felt exhausted and uncomfortable and unable to regulate his core temperature. Ashleigh still thought it could be due to too many blankets. Blanket on: overheating; blanket off: freezing. Temperature: 101.4º F. This was not good. It was almost all Joe could do to advise his team of his symptoms and condition, take some ibuprofen and CBD, and go back to sleep for another 3-4 hours. The next few days would be fairly miserable. He could only muster the energy for brief periods of focus and short conversations. Joe would be fatigued and achy for the next 5-7 days.

Ashleigh skipped the Tool show in Portland too. She could have gone and had amazing seats and access and met up with friends and probably met the band (!!!). But it didn't seem right. If Joe was sick, Ashleigh could be infected while not showing symptoms. And if she didn't have the Coronavirus, a live concert would be a good place to get it. It didn't seem prudent, so she didn't go. That would be the last live concert Tool would play for awhile. The next night's show in Eugene was canceled the day of the show due to new social distancing rules in Oregon (no gatherings of more than 250 people). We had checked out of the Airbnb, and Ashleigh shopped at the pharmacy and grocery store in Portland before we headed south. She picked up a pack of toilet paper, a bottle of acetaminophen, and a full cart of food.

That Friday the 13th Joe was still in the throes of what may very well have been COVID-19. Ashleigh was starting to feel fatigued and would begin to show symptoms the next day.

We hunkered down at a campground in Ashland, Oregon for the following week. Ashleigh was sick all weekend, confined to the bed. She took a sick day on Monday and should have taken more time, as her fatigue wore on for several days more, and her dry cough would last almost two full weeks beyond that. Joe started feeling a little better, and was well enough to be back to work on Monday, and good thing, as his key employee in Connecticut had now fallen ill with similar symptoms.

We were seeing the world turn upside-down mid-flip. We accepted the self-quarantine protocols early, because we had researched the disease and experienced its symptoms. In retrospect, we feel blessed. We caught it early, and thus we caught on early.

We spent that week trying to see the future. What was going to happen with our companies? What was going to happen to the economy? What was happening in society? What were the prospects for us, and for van life? Were we foolish to fly out here? Was it just bad luck to now be stuck?

Our prevailing thought was, how can we persevere through these challenges?

We would need each other. We vowed to get along, to be a team. Cooperate. Rise to the occasion. We'd need to coordinate our remote work-from-home arrangements (home=van). Ashleigh's team meeting could be first thing, while Joe finishes making breakfast. Joe's multiple phone calls and remote support sessions could take place at the standing desk in the kitchen, and move to the table in the back allowing Ashleigh to have the standing desk for the remainder of her workday. We'd need to stock up on food, plan our meals carefully, and prepare more on Sundays for the week. We'd need a campground. We'd need access to some recreation – hiking and walking. We'd need access to infrastructure and services in a fairly developed place. It should be within a weekend's drive from here, and a strategic location in case we needed to head south, head west, or head home. Preferably a place we already knew well: Sedona. Arizona. That's where we would quarantine. Sedona would be our home.

Thus it was decided; we embarked on Friday March 20, the first day of spring.

Champoeg (“Shampooey” Ha!) State Heritage Area, Oregon

Champoeg (“Shampooey” Ha!) State Heritage Area, Oregon

Labryinth in Ashland, OR

Driving through northern CA

Rest Stop, Northern California

AirBnb in Portland, Oregon

Recovering at Emigrant Lake, OR

Valley of Fire State Park, Nevada

We spent the night boondocking just outside the park, getting ready for a 2nd full day of travel to Sedona.

Hiking Valley of Fire

We definitely started that fire.

Lake Mead, Nevada