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Life In The Slow Lane With Eric & Laurel

~Because it’s all about the journey~

It Was A Very Good Year (And A Map!)

It Was A Very Good Year (And A Map!)

Posted by on Jan 16, 2017 in Gallery | 20 comments

It truly was a very good year. Despite the shock of Eric’s unexpected surgery at the beginning of December, we enjoyed another magnificent year of traveling, filled with soul-nourishing adventures.

Our wings are clipped for several months. But one of the benefits of sitting still is that I have the time now to take care of things that have long been on my to-do list—things like creating maps of our travels.

So, ta da! Here it is, a map of our 2016 adventures, beginning with our winter in Florida and ending in our hometown of Ashland, Oregon. You can enlarge the map, click on any of the icons, and access information about where we stayed. Clicking on “more details” will take you to related blog posts. (Almost all of the locations have an associated blog post; there are a few at the end of our summer that don’t yet have posts. That’s also on my to-do list, haha.)

 

 

We made a conscious effort to slow down our travels this year. It worked out well—although we didn’t anticipate just how slowed down our travels would become at the end of the year.

We stayed most places 3-7 nights, with just a few one-night stands; at the opposite extreme, we spent two-and-a-half months on Lopez Island for our summer hosting gig, and three months at the end of the year in our hometown of Ashland (that wasn’t planned, but it’s a good place to be). Our travel distances were split pretty equally, with one-third under 100 miles, one-third under 150 miles, and one-third at close to 200 miles.

A few statistics:

Total mileage for the year: 6790 (towing)

Number of places stayed: 52 (some more than once)

Shortest travel day: 20 miles (from Mt. Vernon,WA to Lopez Island)

Longest travel day: 238 miles (from Boise, ID to Joseph, OR)

Next Up: The Best Of 2016

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Snow Days

Snow Days

Posted by on Jan 5, 2017 in Gallery, Musings, Oregon, Travel | 60 comments

We went for our daily walk today in the snow. It’s beautiful and treacherous. Eric needs to walk every day as part of his recovery (and I need to walk for my sanity), but we can’t risk him slipping and falling. It will take at least two months for the bones in his sternum to begin to knit together.

Had everything gone according to our plans, we would have been strolling the white sugar sand beaches of the Florida Gulf Coast now. Instead, we’re buried in almost a foot of snow with temperatures in the teens, a rare occurrence in our hometown in southern Oregon.

But here we are. At just one month after Eric’s unexpected surgery, we’re emerging, somewhat battered and fragile, into the light. Neither of us is sleeping through the night. He awakens often, his entire being thrown off by the invasive and life saving surgery he endured. I awaken often, a habit of hypervigilance instilled during the 10 days of his hospital stay when I checked on him every hour or two, making sure that he was still present and accounted for. It was an otherworldly experience for both of us, a journey to a foreign land that we never expected to visit.

We’re relieved for our return to a somewhat normal life. And yet, we’re still far from normal. We go for our daily walks, slower than our usual pace, and only on level ground. Three weeks ago, when I accompanied Eric on his first halting walk through the hospital corridor, I could barely reconcile the man hunched over a walker; shuffling along at a snail’s pace, with the man I know who hikes 10 miles or bikes 30 miles with no discernible effort.

But today, I recognize him. We walk at a reasonably brisk pace around the lake, through the snow, for 40 minutes. It is nothing short of a miracle what the body can endure and recover from.

As much as we love our hometown, we would never have planned to spend the winter in our trailer here. There are many things that are challenging about wintering in an RV. It’s a total pain in the butt to be filling the propane tanks every week—they’re heavy and awkward. And we can’t hook up to water because the hoses will freeze, so we have to keep filling the fresh water tank and using the water pump. Most of the tasks of daily living are falling to me right now.

In our normal life, pre-apocalypse, Eric did the outside stuff on the trailer, and I took care of the inside stuff. In our usual sharing of duties, I plan the meals and shopping lists, he does most of the errands, and we share cooking and clean up. I plan our travels; he drives. But right now, while he’s healing, I’ve been doing most everything.

I want to do this; I want to care for him. And there are times that it feels hard. It’s hard for him, too. I know that it won’t be forever, that he will get better, and that we’ll return to our normal active lives. But I’ve arrived at one of those life-changing moments, the realization that there will come a time—hopefully many years down the road—when something will happen and it won’t get better. Maybe it will be him; maybe it will be me. It’s sobering to think about, either way.

It’s like that for my mom and dad now. My mom is suffering from Alzheimer’s, and where they once shared equally and happily in the tasks of life, my dad, at age 88, has taken over responsibility for every aspect of their lives. He does it with remarkable grace and acceptance. I’m watching him and learning. It’s not a bad thing, this awareness. It brings life even more sharply into focus, and helps me keep my priorities straight.

There are many gifts now, even in the challenging moments. Last night after a marathon grocery shopping expedition, followed by hauling in the groceries and five gallons of water (through the deep snow, mind you), reorganizing the refrigerator, and putting away the groceries, I took out the compost. As I slogged through the snow in the dark to the compost bin, the sparkling diamonds in the pure white snow illuminated by my headlamp mesmerized me. That made me happy. When I can see and appreciate the diamonds in the snow on the way to the compost bin, I don’t miss the white sugar sand beaches of the Gulf Coast at all.

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Matters Of The Heart

Matters Of The Heart

Posted by on Dec 30, 2016 in Family, Friends, Gallery, Musings, Oregon | 88 comments

On the morning of December 5th, Eric underwent open-heart surgery and a triple bypass. As he told the surgeon, this experience was not on his bucket list. Nor mine. Needless to say, this has been the most intense month of our lives.

All things considered, Eric is doing remarkably well. He’s now walking 30 minutes a day, soon to increase to 45 minutes. He looks great. But he looked great before the surgery, and had no symptoms other than occasional minor chest tightness when we were hiking or biking strenuously. We were lucky. This could have turned out very differently, and I try not to think too much about that.

There have been times in our adventures when we’ve been hiking alone in the middle of nowhere and I’ve thought, “I wouldn’t want to sprain an ankle out here, miles away from help.” I’ve even had brief imaginings of “What if something really bad happened and help was hours away?” At those moments, I’ve reassured myself by acknowledging that I’d rather accept the risks that come with doing what I love instead of indulging my fears and staying home where life is undeniably safer. Nonetheless, I am extraordinarily grateful that we didn’t suffer a tragedy on the trail.

Our doctor told us that Eric is very fortunate—that only about one quarter of people have symptoms that indicate cardiovascular disease. Apparently the first symptom for the remaining unlucky 75 percent is a heart attack. Eric didn’t suffer a heart attack. In fact, his heart is remarkably strong (the EKG tech referred to him as a “work horse”). He also has perfect blood pressure, a heart rate in the 50’s, low cholesterol, and takes no medications. We thought he was bullet proof. But his dad had a heart attack at age 47, and died from cardiovascular disease at 58. So there’s that.

Even now, almost four weeks after we entered the cardiac lab for a diagnostic angiogram (“He might need a stent,” said the cardiologist) and ended up in the hospital for nine long days and major surgery, the whole experience is surreal. I still have times when I expect to wake up and discover that this was all merely a bad dream. The image of Eric in intensive care, hooked up to a tangle of tubes and wires and flashing lights, haunts me. More than ever, I am in awe of both the fragility and resilience of the human body and spirit.

I have always been skittish around hospitals and medical procedures, and do my best to keep medical intervention at bay with a healthy diet, daily exercise, and a positive attitude. When we need help, we turn to herbs, acupuncture, massage, and other noninvasive treatments. This problem, obviously, required drastic measures. The technology and approach of Western medicine is at once terrifying and miraculous. This has been the most humbling experience of my life, and I will be eternally grateful to the skilled and compassionate people who saved Eric’s life and made a scary situation as comfortable as it possibly could have been.

Both Eric’s surgeon and cardiologist assure us that in time, we will be able to return to our normal lives. And they understand that “normal” for us looks different from what most people think of as normal. The doctors and nurses were intrigued by our stories of travel and our outdoor adventures. In Eric’s chart, one of the doctors wrote, “He and his wife travel the country full-time in their RV, and are active hikers, bikers, and kayakers.” I loved reading that. It made me feel that they understood something about us, and that they cared.

So, here we are. We would never have signed up for this adventure, but we are extraordinarily grateful that we discovered the problem before it turned into a tragedy. We are grateful that we’re here in our hometown, within a few miles of one of the finest cardiac centers in the country. We’re grateful for our wonderful surgeon and the skilled nursing care Eric received. And we are grateful to be in the embrace of our loving community of friends and family, who have held us in the most challenging moments, opened their homes and their hearts, brought us nourishment, and encouraged and supported us through it all.

Here’s to life, and to doing what makes your heart happy. You’ve heard it many times, but I have to say it anyway—don’t put off doing what you want to do. Tell your family and friends that you love them. You can’t say it too much. I know that I’m going to do my best to be more present, more generous, and more compassionate in this amazing, wild journey of life. We wish you peace, joy, and good health in the New Year.

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Caught Between Two Worlds

Caught Between Two Worlds

Posted by on Nov 28, 2016 in Friends, Gallery, Musings, Oregon | 44 comments

Every so often, I’ve wondered how it will feel when we decide to stop traveling fulltime. I hope I’m not going to feel as lost as I’ve been feeling the past few weeks.

Other than a two-week trip to Portland in October, we’ve been parked in our hometown of Ashland since mid-September. Our original plan was to head south by the end of October, wending our way leisurely across the country, and ending up in Florida for the winter. But life doesn’t always go as planned, and we have things we need to attend to before we can leave. At this point, it looks like we’re going to be here until sometime in January.

We love Ashland. In all of our travels, we’ve yet to find a place that we would rather call home. And we dearly love our friends. When we’re here in Ashland, life returns almost to our pre-full-time-traveling “normal,” and we share wonderful dinner parties, music jams, creative art projects, and outdoor adventures with friends. This is home, in the deepest sense of community.

I love being here, and at the same time, I feel out of place. I’m deeply grateful to our friends who welcome us home, and who create a place for us to stay when we’re here. But this isn’t what we had planned, and it’s knocked me off course. Winter is nipping at the heels of fall, with the gray and chill and rain that is typical for November in Ashland. We’re home, but we’re not home—we’re in our small trailer, instead of in our cozy house on the hill with a fireplace and plenty of space for entertaining.

I feel stuck, and the mud that I’m slogging through on the trails is a metaphor for the spiritual mud that I’m slogging through as I try to motivate myself to get things done. We’re getting out for long walks everyday, we’ve recommitted to a daily meditation practice, I’m working on my music. I have a blog to catch up on. We have plenty to keep ourselves occupied, some things more fun than others.

Our plan was never to travel fulltime forever, but we’re not done yet, not by a long shot. (I check in with Eric, and he feels the same.) Maybe that’s why I feel like I’m adrift between two worlds. It calls on every glimmer of awareness I can muster to be here, now, knowing that we’ll be leaving again before too much longer.

Wherever I am, I want to be fully present. Truthfully, it’s effortless when we’re traveling. When every day brings fresh adventures, it’s easy to be present and appreciative. Simply being in a new place, I feel energized and happy. But it’s much more challenging for me to be present on a trail that I’ve hiked in Ashland thousands of times (I’m not exaggerating—I’ve done the math).

And so I’m practicing—yet again—opening my eyes to what surrounds me in the present moment. Traversing the path in the park that I’ve walked almost daily for 18 years, I turn my attention to the sounds of the creek, the birdsong, and the rhythm of my breath. I watch the leaves as they turn to gold and then fall from the trees. It brings me back to the present moment, which is where I want to be. Even if I can only manage that for a brief instant, it’s something.

We’ll be leaving again, before we know it. I don’t want to miss any of our time here in Ashland by worrying about the present and all that we need to do, or planning for the future. I just want to be here, now, grateful for this moment, for our friends, for this beautiful place that is still our home. When I can manage to stay in the present moment, I never feel lost.

Caught Between Two Worlds

Caught Between Two Worlds

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Another Summer On Lopez Island

Another Summer On Lopez Island

Posted by on Nov 2, 2016 in Biking, Birding, Friends, Gallery, Hiking, San Juan Islands, Travel, Washington | 37 comments

As of mid-October, we’re back in Ashland, Oregon, taking care of a myriad of things that need to be completed before we can again resume our travels. This is a challenging part of fulltime RV life—there’s always a mountain of stuff to deal with when we return to our hometown each year. It’s no different than what any other grown-up person has to deal with in life—traveling or not. But it feels a bit daunting when we’re compressing a year’s worth of necessary evils into a few weeks. (The wonderful part is that we’ve also rejoined the tribe of our dear Ashland friends.)

We’re in the midst of trailer repairs, medical and dental appointments, taxes, maintenance tasks on our Ashland home, rooting out our storage unit, trailer home-improvement projects, and more. Last but not least, I have a blog to catch up on. So without further ado, I’m going to whisk you back to mid-June and our summer on Lopez Island.

As the ferry churned through the cold waters of the Pacific and chugged past the maze of islands that make up the San Juan archipelago, we leaned over the railing, anticipating our first glimpse of the small island that would once again be our summer home.

This year, we spent two-and-a-half months on Lopez Island—our longest stretch yet. From mid-June until early September, we were once again temporary Lopezians, immersing ourselves fully in the unique culture of Pacific Northwest island life.

We fell in love with Lopez the first time we visited, almost a dozen years ago.

Six of the past seven years, we’ve spent part of every summer hosting at beautiful Spencer Spit State Park. We contemplate spending time other places, but each summer finds us once again on the ferry to the islands.

I don’t think life gets any better than summer in the San Juan’s. The weather is near perfect, with plenty of sunshine, low humidity, and temperatures in the 70’s. (This makes up for long, long winters of gray and chill and rain—one of the primary reasons we don’t seriously consider living in the islands year-round.)

The scenery is idyllic—pastoral farmland, deep green mossy forests, secluded coves, and rocky cliffs plunging to sapphire seas. Small wonder that the first European settlers to the island described Lopez as a paradise.

Perfect weather and idyllic scenery aside, the strongest draw for us now is our community of friends on Lopez. In our six summers on the island, we’ve developed enduring friendships that transcend time and distance. We gather often with friends for delicious meals, evenings of music, and a variety of island adventures, from biking and hiking to art openings, concerts, and wine tastings. Each summer, we also delight in sharing Lopez with friends visiting from Ashland and fellow full-time RVing friends we’ve met in our travels. To add to this year’s fun, our grandson Findlay sailed to “Camp Lopez” to stay with us for a week.

We’re fortunate to have a hosting position that fits perfectly with our interests. This was our fourth year teaching Interpretive Programs for kids and adults, including the Junior Ranger programs. We teach about native plants, birds found on Lopez, and the traditions of the Salish tribes who first inhabited the islands. Making hundreds of copies of the Jr. Ranger’s booklets gets tedious, but teaching never does. We often come away from a morning of teaching feeling uplifted and inspired by the brilliance, inquisitiveness, and hilarity of the kids we teach (a lot of the adults are just as much fun).

We’re lucky, too, in that the staff at Spencer Spit is terrific. Each summer when we return to the park, we feel like we’re returning home. Our relationship with Lopez and the community of wonderful people on the island continues to deepen—for this, we are deeply grateful. Thanks, Lopez and friends, for another delightful summer. We’ll be back!

I’ve written in detail about our Lopez adventures over the past several years. If you’re interested in reading more, type “Lopez” in the search box and you’ll find lots of posts and photos. Here’s a post with some basic information, should you be interested:

Living Local On Lopez Island

Next Up: Adventures On Orcas And San Juan Island

Another Summer On Lopez

Arriving On Lopez

Rustic Cabin On Spencer Spit

Peaceful View Across The Marsh

Fledgling Rough Winged Swallows On The Beach

Early Morning At Spencer Spit

Art On The Beach

Findlay And My Hat

A Map Of The Island

Peaceful Island Biking

Biking To Town

It's All Picturesque

The Beautiful Herb Labyrinth

Watching Peregrines At Watmough Bay

Magical Mossy Trails Above Watmough Bay

A View Of Mt. Baker

Shark Reef In Late Afternoon

San Juan Island From Shark Reef

Baby Harbor Seal

Barred Owl On The Trail

On The Trail To Iceberg Point

Endless Views From Iceberg Point

Biking To Fisherman's Bay

Overlooking Fisherman's Bay

A Beach Walk With Findlay

Kayaking One Of Many Bays On Lopez

We Have Company

Delightful Purple Sea Stars

In The Fields At Horse Drawn Farm

Our Favorite Farmstand

The Wonderful Lopez Library

It's Cozy Inside And Has Internet!

Peace Train At The Fourth Of July Parade

Saturday Farmer's Market

A Friendly Farmer At The Market

Our Home On Lopez

Our Outdoor Classroom

Teaching About Native Traditions

They Chose Wolf Totems

Birding For Kids

Findlay Earned His Jr. Ranger Badge

Coffee With The Birds Program

Visitor To Our Campsite (Pacific Wren)

Fledgling Pileated Woodpecker

Violet Green Swallows

Our Cohosts Stan And Georgia

Ranger Tina And Findlay

Meghan At The End Of A Long Summer

Dinner With Lopez Friends At Our Site

An Evening Of Music Around The Fire

Bruce And Sheila At Home

Music Evening With Nick And Susie

Michael And Ann In Her Studio

Del And Cindy At Vita's

Ashland Friends (Linda, Steve, & Family)

Traveling Friends Henry, Loretta & Jessica

Traveling Friends Perry And Beth

Ashland Friends Dick And Viki

Last Glimpse Of Spencer Spit

Until Next Time

Another Summer On Lopez
Arriving On Lopez
Rustic Cabin On Spencer Spit
Peaceful View Across The Marsh
Fledgling Rough Winged Swallows On The Beach
Early Morning At Spencer Spit
Art On The Beach
Findlay And My Hat
A Map Of The Island
Peaceful Island Biking
Biking To Town
It's All Picturesque
The Beautiful Herb Labyrinth
Watching Peregrines At Watmough Bay
Magical Mossy Trails Above Watmough Bay
A View Of Mt. Baker
Shark Reef In Late Afternoon
San Juan Island From Shark Reef
Baby Harbor Seal
Barred Owl On The Trail
On The Trail To Iceberg Point
Endless Views From Iceberg Point
Biking To Fisherman's Bay
Overlooking Fisherman's Bay
A Beach Walk With Findlay
Kayaking One Of Many Bays On Lopez
We Have Company
Delightful Purple Sea Stars
In The Fields At Horse Drawn Farm
Our Favorite Farmstand
The Wonderful Lopez Library
It's Cozy Inside And Has Internet!
Peace Train At The Fourth Of July Parade
Saturday Farmer's Market
A Friendly Farmer At The Market
Our Home On Lopez
Our Outdoor Classroom
Teaching About Native Traditions
They Chose Wolf Totems
Birding For Kids
Findlay Earned His Jr. Ranger Badge
Coffee With The Birds Program
Visitor To Our Campsite (Pacific Wren)
Fledgling Pileated Woodpecker
Violet Green Swallows
Our Cohosts Stan And Georgia
Ranger Tina And Findlay
Meghan At The End Of A Long Summer
Dinner With Lopez Friends At Our Site
An Evening Of Music Around The Fire
Bruce And Sheila At Home
Music Evening With Nick And Susie
Michael And Ann In Her Studio
Del And Cindy At Vita's
Ashland Friends (Linda, Steve, & Family)
Traveling Friends Henry, Loretta & Jessica
Traveling Friends Perry And Beth
Ashland Friends Dick And Viki
Last Glimpse Of Spencer Spit
Until Next Time
Another Summer On Lopez thumbnail
Arriving On Lopez thumbnail
Rustic Cabin On Spencer Spit thumbnail
Peaceful View Across The Marsh thumbnail
Fledgling Rough Winged Swallows On The Beach thumbnail
Early Morning At Spencer Spit thumbnail
Art On The Beach thumbnail
Findlay And My Hat thumbnail
A Map Of The Island thumbnail
Peaceful Island Biking thumbnail
Biking To Town thumbnail
It's All Picturesque thumbnail
The Beautiful Herb Labyrinth thumbnail
Watching Peregrines At Watmough Bay thumbnail
Magical Mossy Trails Above Watmough Bay thumbnail
A View Of Mt. Baker thumbnail
Shark Reef In Late Afternoon thumbnail
San Juan Island From Shark Reef thumbnail
Baby Harbor Seal thumbnail
Barred Owl On The Trail thumbnail
On The Trail To Iceberg Point thumbnail
Endless Views From Iceberg Point thumbnail
Biking To Fisherman's Bay thumbnail
Overlooking Fisherman's Bay thumbnail
A Beach Walk With Findlay thumbnail
Kayaking One Of Many Bays On Lopez thumbnail
We Have Company thumbnail
Delightful Purple Sea Stars thumbnail
In The Fields At Horse Drawn Farm thumbnail
Our Favorite Farmstand thumbnail
The Wonderful Lopez Library thumbnail
It's Cozy Inside And Has Internet! thumbnail
Peace Train At The Fourth Of July Parade thumbnail
Saturday Farmer's Market thumbnail
A Friendly Farmer At The Market thumbnail
Our Home On Lopez thumbnail
Our Outdoor Classroom thumbnail
Teaching About Native Traditions thumbnail
They Chose Wolf Totems thumbnail
Birding For Kids thumbnail
Findlay Earned His Jr. Ranger Badge thumbnail
Coffee With The Birds Program thumbnail
Visitor To Our Campsite (Pacific Wren) thumbnail
Fledgling Pileated Woodpecker thumbnail
Violet Green Swallows thumbnail
Our Cohosts Stan And Georgia thumbnail
Ranger Tina And Findlay thumbnail
Meghan At The End Of A Long Summer thumbnail
Dinner With Lopez Friends At Our Site thumbnail
An Evening Of Music Around The Fire thumbnail
Bruce And Sheila At Home thumbnail
Music Evening With Nick And Susie thumbnail
Michael And Ann In Her Studio thumbnail
Del And Cindy At Vita's thumbnail
Ashland Friends (Linda, Steve, & Family) thumbnail
Traveling Friends Henry, Loretta & Jessica thumbnail
Traveling Friends Perry And Beth thumbnail
Ashland Friends Dick And Viki thumbnail
Last Glimpse Of Spencer Spit thumbnail
Until Next Time thumbnail

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On The Way To Lopez Island

On The Way To Lopez Island

Posted by on Oct 6, 2016 in Biking, Food, Gallery, Travel, Washington | 25 comments

On one of our first journeys to the San Juan Islands, we discovered the tiny hamlet of Edison, in the Skagit Valley of western Washington. With a population of only 133, it doesn’t seem like there could be much worth stopping for.

True, Edison is little more than a wide spot in the road. But this particular wide spot has a disproportionate number of seriously fine eating establishments and unique art galleries. Edison embodies the farm-to-table, healthy (with a side of local pastured bacon), environmentally conscious, creatively quirky ambiance that infuses much of the Pacific Northwest.

Leaving Winthrop and our adventures in the North Cascades, the drive along the North Cascades Scenic Byway and through the pastoral farmland of the Skagit Valley was a beautiful one. One hundred and forty miles later, we pulled into our favorite campground in the area—Bay View State Park, overlooking Padilla Bay. At only nine miles from the ferry landing in Anacortes, it puts us on the doorstep of the San Juan Islands—and it’s also perfectly positioned for a visit to Edison.

It’s an easy six-and-a-half mile bike ride along the bay and through acres of blueberry fields from Bay View State Park to Edison. Our destination is always Tweets, a former gas station turned café. (There are more good choices; this just happens to be our favorite.)

The big garage doors roll up Friday through Sunday, revealing a rustic interior with a charmingly eccentric décor of roughhewn wood tables, local artwork, random trinkets, and a twinkling chandelier. The food offerings are equally eclectic, prompted by what’s in season in the neighborhood (including eggs from the proprietors’ chickens and vegetables from their garden). The food is delicious, the atmosphere casual and relaxed, and the coffee excellent.

The two-block town is worth a leisurely exploration, including locally made treasures from reclaimed materials at the Lucky Dumpster; curiosities at Shop Curator that rival a small natural history museum; and lovely cheeses and wines at Slough Food. Even though breakfast is more than satisfying, we can never resist picking up a couple of bite-sized cocoa nib shortbread cookies from Breadfarm. (It’s also worth biking an additional mile to the even tinier hamlet of Bow; we’ve enjoyed both the Rhody Cafe and their sidekick Farm-To-Market Bakery.)

In the never-ending cycle of new adventures that traveling fulltime brings, we’ve found that we appreciate the familiarity of favorite places that we return to time and again. Stopping at Bay View State Park and biking into Edison has become something of a small tradition for us—a couple of days here gives us the opportunity to catch our breath from our long cross country journeys, and eases us into the laid-back island life that awaits.

About the campground:

At only nine miles from the ferry landing in Anacortes, Bay View State Park is perfectly located for a journey to the San Juan Islands. The best sites for RV’s are sites 1-9, which have partial hookups (water and electric) and also happen to be nearest Padilla Bay (the end sites even have views of the bay). There’s a nice biking/walking trail just a mile from the park that wends around the bay. Verizon coverage is good.

Next Up: Summer On Lopez Island 

Farmstand In The North Cascades

Heading West From Winthrop

Along The North Cascades Scenic Highway

Organic Treats From Cascadian Farm Stand

Blueberry Fields On The Way To Edison

Tweets Cafe

Inside Tweets Cafe

Slow Food On The Slough

The Lucky Dumpster Recycled Treasures

Baby Barn Swallows

Shop Curator

Part Curio Shop, Part Gallery

Breadfarm Bakery In Edison

Yummy Cookies At Breadfarm

Biking To The Rhody Cafe

Inside Cozy Rhododendron Cafe

Next Door Farm-To-Market Bakery

Biking Around Padilla Bay

Low Tide At Padilla Bay

RV Site At Bay View State Park

In Line For The Ferry To The Islands

Here Comes The Ferry!

Heading For The Islands

Sailing Past Mt. Baker

Arriving On Lopez Island

Farmstand In The North Cascades
Heading West From Winthrop
Along The North Cascades Scenic Highway
Organic Treats From Cascadian Farm Stand
Blueberry Fields On The Way To Edison
Tweets Cafe
Inside Tweets Cafe
Slow Food On The Slough
The Lucky Dumpster Recycled Treasures
Baby Barn Swallows
Shop Curator
Part Curio Shop, Part Gallery
Breadfarm Bakery In Edison
Yummy Cookies At Breadfarm
Biking To The Rhody Cafe
Inside Cozy Rhododendron Cafe
Next Door Farm-To-Market Bakery
Biking Around Padilla Bay
Low Tide At Padilla Bay
RV Site At Bay View State Park
In Line For The Ferry To The Islands
Here Comes The Ferry!
Heading For The Islands
Sailing Past Mt. Baker
Arriving On Lopez Island
Farmstand In The North Cascades thumbnail
Heading West From Winthrop thumbnail
Along The North Cascades Scenic Highway thumbnail
Organic Treats From Cascadian Farm Stand thumbnail
Blueberry Fields On The Way To Edison thumbnail
Tweets Cafe thumbnail
Inside Tweets Cafe thumbnail
Slow Food On The Slough thumbnail
The Lucky Dumpster Recycled Treasures thumbnail
Baby Barn Swallows thumbnail
Shop Curator thumbnail
Part Curio Shop, Part Gallery thumbnail
Breadfarm Bakery In Edison thumbnail
Yummy Cookies At Breadfarm thumbnail
Biking To The Rhody Cafe thumbnail
Inside Cozy Rhododendron Cafe thumbnail
Next Door Farm-To-Market Bakery thumbnail
Biking Around Padilla Bay thumbnail
Low Tide At Padilla Bay thumbnail
RV Site At Bay View State Park thumbnail
In Line For The Ferry To The Islands thumbnail
Here Comes The Ferry! thumbnail
Heading For The Islands thumbnail
Sailing Past Mt. Baker thumbnail
Arriving On Lopez Island thumbnail

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