From the first time we visited the Dry Tortugas, Matt and I wanted to camp there. It’s a group of tiny islands 70 miles out into the Gulf of Mexico, with a giant fort and tons of wildlife (and over 90% of it is underwater). Who wouldn’t want to do that? So, once we moved to Key West and figured out the best time of year for camping (the winter, since it’s not that hot), we booked a trip to the Tortugas way in advance.

That’s my first bit of advice! Book your trip way in advance. Also, while there’s a really good locals’ discount on the ferry for day trips, that doesn’t apply if you’re camping. Our trip cost $460 total: $390 for the ferry, $20 each for our kayaks, and $15 per night for camping. You’ll need to bring exact cash for the camping fee, since you put that in the camping box when you arrive. The rest is paid in advance.

You have to arrive at the ferry terminal by 6:30 in order to load your gear before everyone else boards. You can park on the street temporarily right in front of the terminal, and they provide big rolling carts. It took us three trips between the kayaks and our gear, but we did it. Matt went to go park in the ramp while I rolled the rest of the gear down the ramp onto the ferry. The captain was there to assist us.

They say you’re allowed 60lb of gear per person; we were just within that limit and were a little nervous about it. There was no indication they actually checked that, though. Because you have to bring a decent-sized animal-proof cooler (there are rats), ice and enough water for the entire duration of your stay, I feel like they don’t enforce that much. We brought a scaled-back version of all our camping gear, camp chairs, a Rubbermaid tote with food and cooking stuff, plus a hardsided cooler. You’re not allowed to bring propane or anything explosive, so you have to go with charcoal or Sterno. I definitely recommend having Sterno as a backup, for reasons you’ll find out below.

There’s also a chance that if there are high seas or other bad weather, the ferry won’t be able to travel on your return date. So make sure to bring some backup food and water just in case. You can leave any extra water with the other campers, who will be happy to have it. One of the rangers even recommended using it to water the palm trees they’d just planted!

We had a meeting with the captain on the ship, where he checked us in, reviewed the rules, and gave us a couple giant trash bags to use on the island. Included with your trip is breakfast on the outbound trip, and one lunch. Like most people, we opted to have our lunch on the day we were returning, so we could pack up early and not have to cook.

After the meeting, we headed to the boarding area and waited with everyone else. The ferry ride was uneventful until we got to the channel about halfway to the Tortugas, and then the seas got rougher. I was wearing Sea Bands, though, so it wasn’t a problem at all. If you get seasick, GET THEM. They’re amazing.

We got to the dock on Garden Key (the largest of the islands, and the one where Fort Jefferson is) about 10:30am. They asked the campers to all assemble on the top deck for a meeting while everyone else got off the boat. There were seven of us arriving that day: another couple, and a group of three. We were the only ones who were staying for two nights.

Ranger Nick, who was awesome and really funny, reviewed all the camping rules again (mostly about animals, cooking, and being careful walking around at night). He also invited everyone to a fishing class after the ferry left, and told us how to get a hold of them at night in case of emergency. It involved a distress call on a marine radio, and only entering the fort as a very last resort.

We chose this site because it was in a narrow area between the moat and the beach. Seriously, how amazing is this? There were only a few shaded spots in the campground and they were already occupied, but we figured it wouldn’t be a huge deal since it wasn’t that hot. It was, however, VERY VERY WINDY.

The wind made setting up a huge pain in the ass, because everything kept trying to blow away. It was so intense that we grabbed some rocks to put on the edge of the rain fly; we were worried it was strong enough to bend the tent poles. That had actually happened to us before!

Once we had everything set up and had claimed our picnic table, we went for a walk around the island.

We’d been told that Carlos the Crocodile had been seen recently in the moat near our campsite. I didn’t see him there, just this starfish:

Most of the ferry visitors were inside the fort, so we walked down Bush Key.

Here’s the division between Bush Key and Long Key. Long Key is totally off-limits because it’s the only magnificent frigatebird nesting site in North America.

The far end of Bush Key is covered in conch shell trees. I love these.

Conch spiral!

Here’s a washed-up Portuguese Man-of-War. Don’t mess with this guy.

While we wandered, the two seaplanes who service the island were coming and going. It’s awesome watching them landing.

Round about 3pm, it was time for the ferry to go. We went down to the dinghy beach (where our kayaks were hanging out) and watched it go. The guy in the life jacket is one of our fellow campers who had been there the previous night. He had a really nice kayak and what appeared to be the best campsite, hidden in the trees and out of the wind.

The island changes completely the second the boat and last seaplane leave. It suddenly feels very remote. It’s amazing.

Ranger Nick had told us earlier that he was giving fishing lessons once the boat left, so we decided to go check that out. The park has a fishing license that covers all visitors, which is pretty awesome. They also have all the gear there for you to borrow.

He first showed us how to cast a net for bait. It took a few tries, but we got a bucketful soon enough.

Then it was fishing time! There was another couple there from Miami, so they and Matt got hand reels and baited their hooks. I was just there to watch, since as a vegetarian I’m not that excited about possibly hurting a fish.

That changed quickly as Ranger Nick handed me a reel that already had a line in the water. They promised me they’d use the fish if I caught it, so I fished. It was kind of exciting.

It was mostly mangrove snapper under the dock, but there were also some bigger yellowtail hanging around. One of them took my hook and started pulling. Suddenly, a gigantic goliath grouper swam up, ate the yellowtail and ran with the tiny, tiny line on my hand reel.

Ranger Nick helped me let all the line out and then we waited. I had no idea how this was going to end in anything successful, but the gigantic fish stayed on the line for a long time. Finally it went slack, and it was time to try again.

But then I caught a real fish! My first fish ever. It was a just-barely-legal-sized mangrove snapper.

While we were fishing, a big Coast Guard ship came sailing up, with huge guns on the deck and everything. Even the ranger was standing there gawking as they docked. I asked him what was going on, and he said he had no idea – they’d had small Coast Guard boats before, but nothing like this at all. It was kind of bizarre.

Everyone else caught their own fish, and the ranger was nice enough to do the butchering for us. Since the Miami couple didn’t have a cooler, Matt took all the filets back to put in our cooler for dinner. We we all very proud of ourselves. These guys were happy for the guts, too.

It was nearing sunset, so we headed into the fort to climb up to the top of the wall. Fort Jefferson closes after sunset, but the rangers told us we had about 15 minutes to clear the grounds afterwards.

Here’s the lighthouse on Loggerhead Key. It’s about 3 miles away, and in good weather you can kayak there. There was no way that was happening in 30mph winds, though. (We were questioning any kayaking in that weather.)

We had a pretty good view from the campsite. Seriously amazing.

Once the sun went down, we headed to our tent to make dinner. Look at how calm and peaceful it looks in this photo! And check out my Luminoodle lights, which were running on a backup battery that I charged via portable folding solar panel! The wind was really strong, somewhere between 25-30mph, and we had a couple big rocks holding the rain fly down. Those stakes weren’t all that great in the sand.

The wind meant we had some trouble getting the grill going, too. We had a little bag of charcoal per the ferry’s recommendations, but Matt was struggling to even get the lighter to light. We finally made enough of a windblock to make it happen, and put out food on the grill. We had plantains, a veggie dog for me, and of course the fish filets in the cooler. The couple from Miami came over and asked if we minded cooking their fish too; it turned out they had just brought some trail mix and snacks in bags since they were only staying one night. We sat around talking while our dinner cooked very slowly in the ridiculous wind.

They ended up being really great, and had good advice on camping in the Everglades. We all shared our food and sat around being amazed by the stars, which were brighter than we’d ever seen before. They headed back to their campsite after dinner, and we cleaned up and decided to walk over to the group-camp area where it was completely open to see the stars better.

The Coast Guard ship was still docked there, and we realized there were guys coming back from the beach wrapped in towels, boarding the ship. Apparently they had just stopped by for a beach break! You could see general movement and hear the intercom beeping, but we were too far away to hear their announcements. We figured they were going to sail pretty soon, but didn’t seem to be in a huge hurry to do so. We saw the rangers come out and close up the dock building for the night, and then everything became very dark and quiet.

I wish there was some way to capture how the sky looked. There were so many stars we had trouble picking out constellations, because we’re used to only seeing the main stars. (Even in Key West we have a pretty dark night sky – far darker than anything I’ve seen up north – but nothing like this.) The Milky Way was clearly visible overhead, running across the entire sky. It was unreal. (To get an idea of it, watch this video. It give me goosebumps, it’s so accurate.)

After a while, the moon started to rise over Bush Key and the Coast Guard ship. We could see at that point that there was no longer anyone on the bridge, so apparently they were hanging out for the night. We went to use the restrooms and then headed back to our campsite.

A note about the restrooms: when the ferry is at the dock, everyone on the island is supposed to use their restrooms. This is a very good thing, since they have flush toilets and running water to wash your hands. When the ferry leaves, they unlock the composting toilets. They were actually in very good condition and didn’t smell anywhere near as much as usual camping pit toilets. However, if you go in there at night wearing your headlamp, don’t shine it down into the toilet. The cockroaches running around in there won’t make you very happy about the whole situation.

It was pointless to try to sit up and play a game with the wind, so we climbed into the tent and read Kindles for a while. The wind made it extremely loud, with the rain fly whipping against the tent. (Matt was convinced we’d have been better off without it, but I thought it would be loud regardless. Plus there was a chance of rain.) We both slept miserably; I kept waking up with the side of the tent would blow against my head, and I’d have to scoot down and sleep in a ball. It wasn’t pleasant at all.

The next morning, I got this view on the way to the bathroom. I wasn’t that mad about not having slept much, seeing this.

The Coast Guard ship had sailed off a bit earlier; we heard their intercom and the engines starting up. That meant there were maybe 20 of us total on the island, including the park rangers. Amazing.

Here’s South Beach. It’s different from the Miami version.

I don’t think I’ve ever been the first person to leave footprints on the beach in the morning.

On the way back to our site, I passed the kayak-guy, who was making breakfast over a can of Sterno. I told him about our travails in the wind and difficulty cooking, and he told me that he was going to be heading back that day, so we should claim his site and move the tent. He said he didn’t notice the wind at all, because he was hidden in the trees. It was definitely the best site in the campground.

He also said that Sterno was the way to go in the wind, and gave me the little grill he was using to cook on. He said to take it and bring back a bag or something to put at his site so that everyone knew it was ours. I loved that guy a lot, because he was 100% right.

We gathered our things and prepared to move. The turkey vultures didn’t waste any time looking for leftovers by our picnic table.

This is what our new site looked like. It was a HUGE improvement.

Since we had also brought Sterno per the ferry’s recommendation (mostly because we didn’t want to heat coals for breakfast), we were able to quickly rig up a windblock with bricks and the guy’s little Sterno stove and had a much more pleasant cooking experience than the previous night. Blueberry pancakes! They were delicious.

One of the seaplanes arrived while we were having breakfast and moving camp, and then the ferry. We decided it was time to get off the island while all the people were on it.

Our kayaks had been hanging out at the dinghy beach, so we were ready to go. We had a chat with our kayaking pal about conditions; he said it was pretty difficult paddling due to the wind, but told us which route to take, sticking to the shore. We geared up and paddled out.

Our kayak pal had boarded the ferry at that point, and was up on the top deck waving at us as we passed. The paddling didn’t seem too difficult at all, since the land curves around and blocks most of the current coming in from the channel. We just got splashed a bit.

Here’s Fort Jefferson and the ferry from the water. I still can’t get over this place. It’s amazing.

We paddled along Bush Key, and then crossed the little channel between that and Long Key. Much of the sand spit was above water, so it was doing a good job of breaking up the current. Still, it was the most difficult area to paddle in.

Long Key is surrounded by buoys marking the do-not-cross line. This is the closest we could get to the magnificent frigatebird nesting grounds, but we were close enough to see them in decent detail. There were hundreds of them, and eventually we were able to pick out some of the males sitting in trees puffing out the giant red sacs on their neck that they use for a mating display. Hilarious.

After watching the birds for a while, we paddled back toward Garden Key.

We went over to the far side of the dinghy docks, where an old platform used to be. The pilings were full of pelicans and seagulls, so we stirred them up a bit. Our Miami friends were hanging out there by the water, so we wished them a good trip back on the ferry.

The paddling was much harder the closer we got to the South Beach side, so we headed back to the dinghy beach and pulled up our boats. We were very happy that we hadn’t brought the kayaks in vain, because we were convinced it wasn’t going to happen in that wind. We’d have to save the Loggerhead paddle til next time!

We took advantage of the ferry’s clean restrooms and running water several times that day. It was especially convenient after lunch, when everyone clears out and heads into the fort for the tour. (If you’re out of water, ice, etc you can purchase it on the ferry, too. It’s just really expensive, so plan ahead!)

We went back to the campsite to make some lunch. As other campers had mentioned, the ground now looked like it was moving because of all the hermit crabs. They were adorable.

We had to be really careful walking around, though. I’d be sad to mash one of those little dudes. If you dropped food, a bunch of them would go swarming toward it and a hilarious crab battle would ensue. Usually the biggest guy won; his name was Lawrence Whelk. (I know.)

After lunch, the fort had emptied out quite a bit and a lot of the daytrippers were back on the ferry. We decided to go tour it again. It was nice to feel like you could take your time with everything; when you’re on the ferry or seaplane, you’re aware of just how limited your time is on the island.

This never gets old:

Closeup of the floor; the concrete is full of shells and coral.

Hard to see, but there are snorkelers along the wall. They’re much braver than we are, since the water was REALLY COLD. January is not swimming time in the Keys, no matter what people tell you.

Here’s the view from the front of Fort Jefferson.

Looking toward the campground (in the trees).

Bally likes to pretend he’s a cannonball. Of course Bally came with us to the Tortugas!

Looking through the fort to the north:

And there are our kayaks hanging out on the beach.

When we got back to the campground, a guy was standing near the moat staring at something. We went to see, and he pointed out Carlos the crocodile. He was so well-camouflaged it was hard to see him, but he’s there. Look to the bottom right of the rusted piece of metal near the water line and his head is there. His tail is mostly in the water.

So yeah, there was a crocodile within view of our campsite. We weren’t especially concerned about it since he’s there a lot (and crocs aren’t aggressive like alligators can be), but other people were. We learned that he swims miles to some of the other keys to look for food and ladies!

The ferry headed out and the seaplanes were leaving shortly, so we grabbed a blanket and our Kindles and headed over to North Beach. There’s a lot of fascinating old stuff to see at that beach; there’s a pile of mechanisms from the fort, and old worn bricks all over the place. We had the beach to ourselves just like we did the first time we visited!

Here’s something that’s changed in the year and a half since we moved to Key West:

We hung out reading and staring at the ocean for a while, and then decided to head back to the campground. We took our chairs to the beach and joined most of our fellow campers there to see the sunset.

This view never gets old. I love it.

The wind was still in full force; I felt a little bad for the people who had claimed our old campsite. However, at our new site, we barely even noticed it. It was such a huge difference, it was amazing. We set up our lights and made dinner over charcoal.

My Luminoodle lights worked perfectly, and I had charged all our battery packs during the day with the solar panel mounted on the post for hanging trash. I had a set of four little USB backup chargers that were plenty to keep our campsite and tent Luminoodles running, and our phones fully charged. (Even though there’s no cell service at the Tortugas, you obviously have to take a million pictures.)

We played cards for a while, and ended up going to bed pretty early because of our prior sleepless night. We had the rain fly on the tent mostly because it’s entirely mesh and I didn’t want someone walking by and looking at my naked butt in the morning. We left the side doors open, though, and with a slight breeze it was incredibly pleasant.

I got up shortly before sunrise, and was greeted by a completely deserted island. I didn’t even see rangers walking around at that hour.

I watched the sun come up over the Gulf, still having my mind blown at the fact we got to stay there. It’s so incredible.

We got up, made breakfast, and started packing up camp. I talked to a few people about their campsites, and they were uniformly miserable because of the wind. Like our previous camp-tenant, we told them to consider taking over our site when we left. There are only 2-3 totally sheltered sites there, and they make a huge difference in either sun or wind.

The red flag was flying on the fort, indicating that small boats were allowed to come into the harbor and moor for wind shelter. There were several sailboats tied up there.

We grabbed a rolling cart from the dock and started hauling our stuff over. You’re supposed to have all our gear waiting in the pickup spot on the dock by 10am, as well as all your trash so they can haul it back to Key West. While they supply giant, heavy plastic trash bags that work well for hanging up away from pests – palm rats, mostly – they don’t have any recycling receptacles for your campsite. We just threw all our recycling in our cooler to haul back with us. (I think they also had recycling on the ferry.)

These turkey vultures supervised as we hauled our kayaks to the dock.

They’re incredibly graceful-looking creatures in the air, and stupidly gawky on land. They’re really entertaining. (They also know where the fish scraps come from.)

When the ferry arrived, they quickly offloaded the new campers’ gear and put ours onboard. Here are our kayaks, ready to go!

We kept a day bag with us, since we had til 3pm on the island. We did some more reading on the beach, then grabbed some lunch from the ferry and had a picnic. After that, we joined the short tour of the fort to see if we’d missed any important knowledge about it (we had, too!). We went to have a chat with the guy who ran the visitor’s center, since Matt had met him the previous day, and then did some more wandering around the fort. We swore there were different areas open than we’d seen previously, which is definitely possible since it’s always under renovation. I don’t recall ever seeing Samuel Mudd’s cell before – it’s directly above the visitor’s center on the second level of the fort.

And then it was time to head back to civilization, sadly. The ride back was rough again, but SeaBands got me through.

Now I want everyone to do this same trip so we can compare notes on how amazing it is!

Matt and I decided that our anniversary in September was a great excuse for an annual trip. We had initially planned on Las Vegas because his parents were going around that time, but for Celine-Dion-related reasons, they decided to postpone. (She ended her run of shows. I know.) We decided instead to attempt to get in another camping trip in the last fall, which is always kind of risky in Minnesota.

I’d been checking conditions at Itasca for several weeks before the trip, and not only was it supposed to be relatively cold, there was a campfire ban due to extremely high fire danger in the area. That was far less than ideal for camping, particularly with cold nights, but we decided we were going to go regardless, because the daytime would make it worth it. Just a few days before we were supposed to leave, they lifted the fire ban for the campground, and suddenly the forecast improved a ton. I couldn’t believe our luck!

We piled everything into/on top of the car, and headed out Thursday morning. We’d never taken the kayaks on a four-hour trip at highway speeds before, so it was a little nerve-wracking. The front tie-down went directly through my field of vision while I was driving, but it did its job and our kayaks stayed firmly attached.

We arrived at the park just after check-in, and found the campground very sparsely populated. We had a very nice, relatively private site in the non-electrical part of the campground (i.e. sans RVs), and were close to the bathrooms. Which were FANCY compared to anything else we’ve seen… they were not only sparkling clean, but there was hot water and hand driers, plus individual shower rooms. We unpacked the car, then drove back up to the ranger station to get firewood and ice. We took note of the sign about protecting your food from raccoons and bears, too, because we’d endured a raccoon attack on the previous trip. Plus when there’s a hanging hook at your site, you know they’re a raccoon problem.

We set up camp, got the fire started after way too much effort (when it’s so dry you’re banning fires, how do you end up with damp firewood?) and got to prepping dinner. Shortly after dark, we sat down to enjoy our campfire banh mi, which was delicious.

The first night was supposed to be the coldest, and that was no joke. I had on warm clothes and a blanket while sitting at the fire, but I was still pretty cold. By the time we were ready to head to the tent, it was in the mid-40s. We’d camped in that weather before thanks to the heaviest comforter in the known universe, but for some reason this time I could barely handle it. I kept dozing off and then waking up, because something like my hand sticking out and being cold was keeping me awake.

Sometime in the middle of the night, the raccoons invaded. We’d put the food bins in the car, but didn’t bother to think about the trash. I heard them tearing stuff up, and it sounded like maybe they were throwing our recycling all over the state. What a bunch of jerks.

I did not sleep well, and was convinced I wasn’t going to make it through the rest of the trip.

We got up the next morning and I didn’t feel as terrible as I expected. We fired up my sister’s camp stove (we’d brought it in case they decided to ban fires again while we were there), and made some biscuits.

Matt cooked sausage, fake sausage, and eggs, and we made some delicious breakfast sandwiches. When we were done, we loaded the kayaks back on my car and headed off to explore the park.

We drove down to the Douglas Lodge area to hike and check out the situation with the daily paddleboat tours. They were supposed to be running that late in the season, but we weren’t positive that would be the case. We parked at the lodge and walked down to the launch, and saw the boat there with staff people working on it. It didn’t leave for a couple of hours, so we went to hike Dr Roberts Trail.

The daytime weather was absolutely perfect for hiking, and the colors were amazing. We didn’t encounter a single other human being on the trail, either.

From our hike, we climbed back up to Douglas Lodge to go check out the inside. Right at the door, there was a sign saying the boat tour that day was cancelled due to an emergency, so we figured we’d go the next day instead. We wandered around the lodge, then went over to the building with the gift shop for the required souvenir purchases. We then hopped in the car and drove down a very narrow road to find the boat launch at Mary Lake. We unloaded the car, and put the kayaks in the water.

There were signs about the lake being a loon nesting ground, so we paddled around the entire perimeter watching the reeds for any sign of loons. We didn’t see any birds there; we saw no animals at all, actually, though we did see a few spots where they came down to the lake for water. On the far side we came across some hikers on the trail near the lake, and talked to them for a bit before heading back to the launch.

We took the boats back to the campsite, made lunch, then headed up to the north end of the park to see the Mississippi headwaters!

I was worried the start of the river would be dried up, but there was still a bit of water flowing. We crossed the rocks, came back across the log bridge, and took a trail leading back to the visitor center. The visitor center entrance was basically one gigantic swarm of ladybugs who seemed to particularly like the giant wooden pillars. They were flying everywhere, especially directly toward my hair. I was incredibly glad they weren’t all over the campground.

We stopped into the bigger shop there, and both picked out stickers to put on our kayaks. We figured that was a good way to track our water-based travels.

From the visitor center, we continued around the park on Wilderness Drive, a several-mile one-way road through the forest. It had been closed recently due to fire danger. We got out to take a couple of short hikes, including one where we learned all about responsible forestry, and another where we saw the former tallest white pine in Minnesota (it fell victim to a storm a few years ago). Then we stopped for the half-mile hike to the fire tower.

The trail there was probably the best of the fall colors, which was saying a lot.

We headed up the stairs, stopping to catch our breath along the way. The stairs were slippery open grates so that you could see all the way to the ground, and the whole thing swayed the further you climbed up it. We met a guy coming down, and he told us to just go slowly and hang on. About halfway up, Matt’s dislike of heights got the best of him, so he climbed back down while I continued upward.

Just below the top deck, I met a couple really drunk guys climbing back down with their beers. Up top, it was just me and a weird quiet girl who barely wanted to even say hi. I took a bunch of photos, then headed back down. The climb down was worse due to the slippery, narrow steps, but I could see Matt waiting at the bottom.

We headed back to the campsite as it was nearing sunset, and secured everything there from the inevitable raccoon visit. We then got in the car and headed off toward Zhateau Zorbaz, about 35 miles away outside Park Rapids. It’s a longstanding tradition when up north.

It was dark by the time we were on the road, and being very unaccustomed to driving in the middle of nowhere, I was pretty freaked out at the possibility of hitting a deer. We were on the highway for 10 miles, then on small roads winding around lakes and resorts for the rest. Luckily there was little traffic, so I could drive with the brights on the whole way, and Matt was on extra deer patrol. We saw several of them along the way, so my concern wasn’t misplaced.

Zorbaz wasn’t too crowded, but there were still several locals there holding up the bar. We got a table and ordered pizza and beers. We’d been to their other location a few times, but went because it was entertaining, not because of the food. I hadn’t even realized that their pizza is actually really good!

We finished our meal and went up to sit at the bar and watch baseball while we had another beer. Round about 10pm, it was time to head back to the site, since the park entrance closed at 11.

We got there a couple minutes before 11, though we could see no indication of actual gates to be closed. There were still a few fires going at the campground, but for the most part it was quiet. Also, the sites had filled up like crazy by then, since it was the weekend. I was glad we still had a fairly private site, but the bathroom was full of teenage girls getting ready for the night. (My getting ready for the night? Go pee in the woods before bed. I’m not too fancy while camping.)

We sat around the fire for a while, then headed to the tent. This time I was perfectly comfortable, even though it was only a tiny bit warmer than the previous night. I slept very well, even though I woke up sometime around 2am to hear the raccoon raid again. There was nothing to eat, but still they had to come by and investigate.)

The next morning, we cooked up Hell’s Kitchen’s wild rice porridge for breakfast. YUM.

We then hopped in the car and headed toward Bemidji, about 40 miles to the northwest. We needed to pay Paul and Babe a visit, since it had been a while. On the way, we learned from the radio that it was homecoming in Bemidji, and that they had citywide events going on all day.

When we got there, they were having some outdoor sports event where people were playing miniature tennis on the plaza around Paul and Babe. It was really busy, but we managed to get pictures in and stop into the visitor’s center (which houses a substantial collection of “Paul Bunyan’s _________” donated from all over the place).

We went across the street to the nearest gift shop, and ended up talking to the lady at the counter for a long time. We then drove down to the south end of the lake to see the arena where the Bemidji Beavers hockey team plays, since I feel the obligation to visit all WCHA hockey venues whenever possible. (I’ve seen the arenas in Anchorage, Denver, Colorado Springs, Grand Forks, Duluth, Madison, Mankato, and Omaha!) After that, it was time to go find some lunch at the locally-famous Dave’s Pizza.

It took us a long time to find directions on our phones, and then a long time to actually find the place. (We did circle around a neighborhood near campus and saw a bunch of students drinking out in their yards, plus some classy college ladies wearing “Sloppy Beaver” tshirts.) When we got there, it was closed. SIGH. We headed back toward downtown to drive around and find a place, which was more challenging than you might think. We finally settled on the Blue Ox, a huge restaurant/bar with a giant tent set up outside for the band playing later that night, post-homecoming.

We got seats at the bar near the TV showing the Gophers football game (which was terrible, but it was the Gophers). There were a bunch of really drunk homecoming celebrators there, but the place was mostly empty besides that. We ordered Leech Lake beers, which were excellent, and some lunch. We got talking to the bartender, who told us about how he was working until after 2am, and how the place would be insane that night. We were glad to just be in town for lunch, before the disaster struck.

On the way out, we asked him where we could buy more of the Leech Lake beers in town, and he directed us to a liquor store. We stopped there for some bombers, then got on the road back to the park.

Our next stop was the public boat launch on Lake Itasca, where the rental building was. It was gorgeous outside, a very unlikely 80-degree day so late in the season, and the place was nuts. Most people seemed to be renting bikes, kayaks, and canoes. We, however, were in search of a pontoon. Because, seriously: pontoon.

They took us down to the dock, gave Matt a primer on how to pilot it out of the very small marina, and sent us on our way with a cooler full of Leech Lake beers, a stereo, and some snacks.

Our boat ride was glorious. We went down to the west arm of the lake, the one we were unlikely to be able to paddle on, and then back up to see the headwaters from the other side. I spent most of the ride with my feet up either on the couch or the front rails of the boat, drinking beer. There was hardly anyone else out on the lake, despite the crowding at the rental building. We’d never had a powered boat to ourselves before, and we loved it.

I drove for a little while around the top of the east arm, and then our couple of hours were up and we needed to get back before they closed. Matt very bravely sailed us back into the marina (which scared me a lot, but he did well), and we went to check out. We headed back to the campsite to hang out and play games before dinner.

We stayed at the picnic table too long and had to make dinner in the dark, but it worked out well. We had meat and non-meat satay with peanut sauce, and skewers of mushrooms, onions, and asparagus. It was delicious. (Since it was just the two of us on this trip, we went out of the way to plan meals and make slightly fancier food than usual. We ate REALLY well.)

We spent the rest of the night around the campfire drinking manhattans, aware that everyone else had already gone to bed. (That never bodes well for getting any sleep in the morning.) At one point Matt heard a noise nearby, and turned on his headlamp to see a little skunk walking through the woods next to our site. We couldn’t believe how cute he was, though it made me nervous that maybe some raccoons were lurking nearby.

We went to bed (very comfortably again… I have no idea why my first night there was so terrible!), and slept well til the nightly raccoon visit. This time they pulled our camping organizer off the table onto the ground, and after I heard the crash I was convinced they were tearing the fabric up. Then they walked right past our tent making squeaking noises at each other, to the point where I could see their shadows. Blech.

Someone had a dog that barked on an off for a few hours, and then almost constantly for the rest of the night. I have no idea how the dog wasn’t driving them crazy, or embarrassing them to the point where they took it into the RV (I assume it was an RV, since it always is), but the damn thing wouldn’t shut up. At one point someone yelled, “can’t you hear your own dog?” That sucked a lot, and did not help with sleeping. Also, everyone started getting up at sunrise, since they and their kids had apparently all gone to bed at 8pm.

We got up and made breakfast, and started readying our camp for teardown. Then we loaded up the kayaks and took them to the boat launch at the south end of Itasca, next to the paddleboat we never had time to ride (not that I’m sad about it… the pontoon was way more awesome). We put in and didn’t see a single other person on the lake until we got to our turnaround point, so it was fantastic. We paddled slowly around the edge of the lake, scaring up coots and finding tiny waterfalls.

We took the kayaks out just as the paddleboat was starting to load people up, and it was then time to head back to the campsite and pack up. Everything was pretty well-organized already, so it didn’t take us long to get everything loaded up and get on the road. As we drove out of the park, we noticed that the trees were starting to turn brown and lose their leaves. I’m not sure how we managed to end up there at the absolute perfect time, but I’m thrilled we did!

We had Friday off work, so we headed north around noon, stopping at an awesome little restaurant in Pine City called Nicoll’s Cafe. We got to Jay Cooke State Park around 3pm, and the rangers there let us check in early.

It was pretty cold and extremely windy, but our campsite was sheltered enough that the wind wasn’t really a problem. We set up the tent, unpacked, and then headed back to the visitor center to do some hiking.

Jay Cooke is gorgeous. I want to spend a lot more time there.

We brought firewood back to the campsite and set about getting the fire going. It was really difficult in the wind and with wood that seemed to have been recently damp, but after four attempts, it happened. I think we managed to make the hottest campfire on earth.

Bally’s first camping trip!

It was really awesome camping by ourselves; we’ve only ever gone with big groups. I was worried I’d forget something (since we assume that amongst our friends, we’ll always have four of everything), but we were very prepared. We made tacos over the fire, then played cards and dominoes while drinking manhattans. We’re the classiest campers ever!

Between the hot fire and our pile of blankets, it wasn’t cold at all that night. I think that’s the most comfortable I’ve ever been while sleeping in a tent!

Saturday morning, we packed up and drove the hour or so to Eveleth to see the world’s largest hockey stick and the US Hockey Hall of Fame. It was absolutely worth the drive.

Items that belonged to Herb Brooks

After we were done with the museum and USA-USSR bubble hockey, we headed back toward Duluth, stopping for an amazingly good lunch at the Duluth Grill. We then checked in at the Sheraton and set to wanderin’ around town. We wanted to find somewhere showing the Twins game, so we finally ended up at a dive called RJ Quinlan’s. There were a bunch of old guys drunk at the bar, and a lot of people who clearly had interesting stories to tell. Right before we left, I was eavesdropping on a conversation at the next table while Matt was in the bathroom. One of the old guys was telling the others about the day his mother died. I started crying my head off right there.

Thank god for sunglasses.

We crossed the street to the Dubh Linn and ended up sitting at the bar drinking Scotch and talking to the bartenders. They had a huge Scotch collection, for easily half the price of Minneapolis, so of course we had to take advantage. We left to walk up towards Fitgers to meet Jumi and Josh for dinner, and found them parked across the street from the bar. Clearly, we have awesome timing, at least when it comes to getting a ride.

We had a cocktail at Red Star (Duluth’s most famous ultralounge!), then went over to dinner in the brewhouse. God, Fitgers is awesome. After that, Matt and I headed over to the Fon du Luth Casino, where he wanted to play blackjack. I didn’t feel like playing (I didn’t think I was in a good-decision-making position at that point), so I wandered around, signed up for the players club, blew my free $5 in the slot machines, and then went to see how he was doing. He wasn’t thrilled with the table he was sitting at, so he asked me to go check on one across the way. Instead of just checking, I sat down to play, and he joined me shortly thereafter. Within an hour or so, I was up $45, and he was up close to $400. AWESOME. We went to celebrate at Blackwater before returning to the hotel.

Sunday morning, we had brunch at Takk for Maten and then did touristy things in Duluth. With Bally, of course.

We had a beer at Green Mill so we could watch some of the Twins game, then went back to the hotel to change for the wedding. The ceremony was held in the rose garden at Leif Erickson park, which was perfect for it.

The ceremony was quick, though it was very effective at making everyone cry. We all then piled into cars and headed to the Greysolon Ballroom, conveniently located across the street from the hotel.

The reception was fantastic. Everybody had a great time, there was dancing and ridiculousness, Bally ended up in a chandelier, the cake had ninjas on it, and Jumi got caught trying to stealborrow someone’s scooter.

Dan (the groom!) and Bally, the first basketball to be invited to a wedding

We stayed til the end, which was good since the last song was “Don’t Stop Believin'”. We said goodbye to Dan and Kate and headed to Pizza Luce. It seems to be one of the few places that serves food after 11pm, and for that we were very grateful.

Monday morning, we ran into Jumi and Josh again in Canal Park, so we shopped with them at the Northern Waters Smokehaus, then had brunch at Hellburgers. Matt and I did a little shopping before heading back to Minneapolis. Right on time, too, because it had suddenly become winter in Duluth!

Dan and Kate were smart… they headed right to Jamaica. SIGH.

I got up at 6:15 and practically ran out of the Econolodge. Oregon Boy #1 was still at the front desk when I checked out. I said, “Hey! You’re still here.” He said, “Hey! So are you.” I replied, “Not for long!” He told the whole red-hair story to the girl at the counter. They directed me to a drive-up coffee cabana, where I scored a triple-shot americano for $1.50. Shit is cheap in Oregon, my friends.

I got back on the 5 and headed south to Highway 199, which cuts across to the coast. 60 miles later, I found myself in California. Never having been before, it was a big moment for me. Some guy in a truck with Oregon plates seemed to think he was off on the trip of a lifetime, but I had him beat. I was hoping for the California border produce shakedown, but I guess they only do that on the interstate. I was a little disappointed, but pressed on.

I drove through Redwoods National Forest, which was beautiful. I was really glad to have a sunroof. Furthermore, I was extra glad I had had the brakes done in Seattle, because I would have been miserable driving through the hills to the coast. As I got nearer, I started to notice weird clouds in the sky to the west. It took me forever to realize that it was the mist from the ocean. I had never seen anything like it before.

I arrived in Crescent City around 11am, and got my very first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean. It was less spectacular than I expected; not that it was the ocean’s fault, but it was about 50 degrees and overcast, and Crescent City seemed deserted. I walked out on the pier, took photos, and talked to some kids who were netting crabs.

I got back in the car and headed south, finally on the 101. It was a little disconcerting to see mile markers in the 900s, and realizing I was probably going to be driving every one of those miles. The fog was incredible. It hung over the road, and occasionally the sun filtered through and made rainbows. I wished it was sunny, because I wanted to stop and sit on the beach, but the cool weather was a nice change. I stopped a ways down the road at a black-sand beach and got out to see the ocean. The beach was covered in driftwood, oysters, and crab shells. I climbed amongst the rocks, looking at the seaweed and above-water anemonies. The rocks were slippery, and I decided to leave before breaking my bones.

I drove past Trees of Mystery and saw the statues of Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. Until recently, I wasn’t aware that Paul Bunyan was a big deal anywhere outside Minnesota. It made me a little homesick. Then I saw some elk, and many, many redwood trees. At that point, I was 280 miles north of San Francisco, and wasn’t planning on getting there until the next day. That meant I could take my time along the coast.

Based on advice from Road Trip USA, I stopped in Arcata for lunch. The book said the Utne Reader (also a Minnesota original) described it as ‘the most progressive tiny town in the US.’ It was really cute, with a town square surrounded by little shops and restaurants, and totally hippie; all the girls were wearing peasant shirts and sarongs, with their long hair up in ponytails, and the guys had dreads and wore cutoff shorts. Also, almost everyone I saw was college-age. I felt old.

I stopped at the Big Blue Cafe and ate a tofu burger. While I was sitting there drinking my cappuccino, a couple of college kids came in for lunch. They turned down the first table they were offered because it had bad feng shui. The second table was acceptable. I half-listened to their conversation as I wrote. The boy was babbling about Echelon, which I found interesting because I thought that kind of government-conspiracy paranoia was exclusive to the right wing. He went on and on until my hands started to twitch, wanting to wrap themselves around his throat. The conversation eventually drifted to living in Arcata. The girl said she liked living there now, but wouldn’t want to raise kids there, because they’d end up as drug dealers. The boy said, “Well, that would be OK, as long as it wasn’t crack or heroin or meth or something.” At that point, I knew I had to leave, or I’d soon be overturning tables in a rage.

I wandered around town for a bit, getting a really weird vibe. There were a bunch of drunk guys laying on the sidewalk outside a bar, and in the town square. I went into a cute glass shop and talked to the guy there for a long time about the weather in northern California, and the possibility of tsunamis, which I somehow found really amusing. He seemed starved for human contact. I stopped at the natural foods store and stocked up on protein bars and produce. Then I drove to Eureka, which was a super-cute, artsy little town. I got coffee at the bakery and shopped at a few galleries. Once again, the place was almost deserted. One of the women working there said that you could never predict when it would be crowded. It was kind of cold and overcast, but it was still a holiday weekend. I stopped and talked to all the people working in the stores, and everyone was really friendly. One girl I met said that it was hardly ever sunny there, but you could go 15 miles inland and it would be 100 degrees.

I went into a shop (OBJX) that I could have spent hours and all my money in. It was like a museum, with bizarre junk from everywhere. My favorites were brooches made of ear bones, bingo cards from a mental hospital, and the hundreds of glass slides from medical schools and colleges. I bought three slides of patients with facial deformities to bring to Jay. They totally creeped me out.

I got back on the 101, then exited at Ferndale. It’s the kind of town my mom would love: all victorians. The cemetery was amazing; it reminded me of New Orleans. It wasn’t a port like the towns north of there – at least, there was no huge waterfront. Lots of beef and dairy farms. A lot like Wisconsin, actually.

I was a little tired of driving, and considered whether to take the 101 (faster), or Highway 1, where it began further south. I figured if it stayed foggy and cold, I’d stick to the 101. All of a sudden, it was sunny and beautiful, and my decision was made. I must have been far enough inland, because it went from 60 to 80 degrees. I opened the sunroof and windows, even though I was going 70. It was so perfect. I exited at the famed Avenue of the Giants, a 35-mile route that parallels the 101 through the redwood forest. I stopped and saw the Immortal Tree with a bunch of Japanese and Indian tourists. It probably goes without saying, but I love that there’s this entire route devoted to giant trees. It’s kind of amusing. I mean, people like giant things. Biggie fries, SUVs, redwoods. Put them all together, and you’ve got yourself a party. Unfortunately, this time it was just me and the trees. I drove on, and finally, I stopped for the big event: the Shrine Drive-Thru Tree. I pulled up to the booth and the little old man inside asked, “Just one?” I said, “Yep, just me for the drive-thru tree today!” He laughed and asked where I was from, and commented that I was far from home. I considered telling him that I had driven all that way just to drive through his tree, but I couldn’t lie to a cute old man in a booth. He gave me a coupon for a FREE postcard at the gift shop. $1.50 for the drive-thru tree and a free postcard. How could I go wrong?

I sat and waited for the dumb woman with 15,000 kids in an SUV (and probably some biggie fries) to nudge her way into the tree in her gigantic vehicle. It was 7’x7′ clearance, and she barely made it. They had to fold in the mirrors and everything. It took forever. Finally, it was my turn. Chico fit easily, of course. I took a picture looking up out the sunroof through the hollow tree, then pulled up so I had enough room to get out and take a photo of the car inside the tree. I was pretty damn happy with myself, and thankfully no one was watching.

I went into the gift shop to claim my FREE postcard. There were two old women sitting in there. One of them said, “Girl, you got such purty hair!” I thanked her and ran away as fast as I could. This wasn’t the first evidence I had that northern California was actually part of the South.

I got back on the 101, laughing to myself. I decided that I was indeed going to take the 1, because it was beautiful outside. I exited and immediately, it became a tiny, twisting mountain road. At that point, I was positive that blowing a tire was a message from the god I don’t believe in to get the brakes done right away. I would have hated myself otherwise. There was no way I’d have made it to San Francisco, or at least I’d have had to stick to the interstate, and missed the whole coast.

Highway 1 wound up and down for 40+ miles. I had to keep putting on and taking off my sunglasses; one moment, I was blinded by the sun, the next it was dark from the overhanging trees. The temperature dropped 20 degrees in 20 minutes. I had to use 2nd gear most of the way down. With all the sharp turns, it was like slaloming, which was fun for a while, but quickly started to wear me out. With all the mountain driving, my arms and shoulders were killing me.

Half an hour later, I drove up another big hill and came around a curve that finally had no trees. The sun was glaring. I got to the top and started to round the curve, and my jaw dropped. It was the Pacific Ocean – the rocky, rugged coastline I kept hearing about but didn’t really believe existed. The water was perfectly blue. I pulled off at the overlook and started crying. I couldn’t believe how incredible it was. It was perfect.

I took about a million pictures at six overlooks. I thought about stopping at the beach, but it was getting late. The road began to straighten out at various points along the coast, so I drove as fast as I could, feeling my stomach drop as I went speeding up and down hills. I was the only one on the road for miles. I drove through Fort Bragg, then decided to stop in Mendocino for dinner around 8pm. It was a cute, tiny little town (Road Trip USA told me it was the idyllic scene for many movies and TV shows, including ‘Murder, She Wrote’). I decided against trying to get into Cafe Beaujolais dressed the way I was, so I picked a place next door: the creatively-named 955 Ukiah Street Restaurant. The servers there were kind of snooty, but nice. They put me upstairs in the very back corner. I ordered a salad and cappuccino, and got out my notebook. A short while later, they seated a couple of women at the table right next to me, even though the upstairs was almost completely empty. The next time the server came back, they quietly asked to be moved. I laughed. Was it me? I hoped so.

I still had no idea where I was spending the night. Based on my book, I was hoping to reach Gualala, because it was one of the few places along the coast with relatively inexpensive lodging. I was amazed at how remote some of the coast was. The towns were few and far between, and the fact that I could drive 40mph at the most on Highway 1 made everything seem even farther apart.

It was getting dark by the time I left Mendocino, and Gualala was seeming really far away. I had gotten used to the fact that it was light until after 10pm in the Pacific Northwest. The fog made it seem a lot darker, too, and I was feeling like I was really out in the middle of nowhere, completely alone. I drove and drove, looking for a motel. Finding nothing for miles, I decided to just camp in my car, because there were numerous state-run campsites all along the beaches. So then, my goal became to find a payphone so I could call home and reassure them that I was alive. I had been out of contact for over 24 hours, and the last anyone knew, I was in Portland. Also, I had forgotten the two-hour time difference, which made it after 11:30 in Minneapolis.

I finally arrived in Elk, California. It struck me as a nice coincidence, as I had just read an article in a travel magazine at my mom’s house about this tiny little town called Elk that no one knew about, but which was worth the trip. It was about 10 buildings in total, and even though there were cars and lights at the resort, it seemed deserted. Not even a gas station. I ran into the post office, looking for a phone. Finally, I saw the glowing green PacBell phonebooth at the side of the road, looking ominous. I rushed to call Heather. She yelled at me that mom my was in a panic, and wanted to call the highway patrol. I have to admit I loved the idea of Eric Estrada coming to my rescue, but she wasn’t so amused. I was in a hurry to find somewhere to sleep, and it was getting later and later. She agreed to call my mom, and I ran back to the car. A hitchhiker carrying more than his own weight in packs came staggering up just as I started the engine, and scared the hell out of me. My car went screeching back onto the highway.

I headed south again and finally saw a camping sign about 10 miles down the road. I couldn’t find the state beach, but there was a KOA. I pulled in ten minutes before the office closed. The woman at the counter was super nice, like a mom. She put me in a campsite near the bathroom, and told me that she’d let the security guard know I was there, so he could keep an eye out for me. Not that they ever had any problems, but I was a woman on my own, sleeping in my car. I found my site, parked, and hauled my sleeping bag and blankets out of the trunk, setting up a semblance of a bed in the backseat. I ran to the bathroom and washed up. The restrooms there were way nicer than I expected: private, and really clean. If I hadn’t been so tired, I would have showered.

Sleeping in the car wasn’t as bad as I expected. It would have been pretty comfortable if I hadn’t been so sore from mountain driving and falling down. I had the sleeping bag on the seat, my big pillow against the door, and three blankets. I woke up and flipped around a lot, but otherwise I slept well, and I knew that the next night I’d get to sleep in a real bed.

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random notes from my travel journal:

i’m dressed like crap and i look like i’ve been beat up, but i totally fit in here anyway.

there’s no cell phone reception up here. isolated in california? go figure.

omg. he just said, ‘the way of the tao’. why do i hate them so very very much? and why do they serve so much meat here?

is it weird to have all this redwood stuff for sale in the redwood forest? i mean, aren’t we celebrating the majesty of the living trees?

holy shit, gas is expensive in california.

further evidence that norcal is part of the south: i’ve had no signal all day. i’m within 150 miles of sf! wtf?? i feel like i’m in montana. although i suspect calling people and raving about how unbelievable the ocean is might be unpopular anyway. man, i’m totally going to have to find a payphone.

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