This may come as a surprise but I’m not overly accommodating or friendly towards others, especially if I’m in an unfamiliar locale such as an RV park in Winthrop, Washington where a water line in the park has just burst, the WIFI isn’t working (meaning I can’t watch Dodgers baseball)… and just as we are tucking into burgers on the boardwalk the RV park calls to inform us that the carbon monoxide alarm in our motor home is going off, necessitating an immediate return. Needless to say, I wasn’t exactly in a positive frame of mind as I aerated the camper.
Towards the center of the park however the mood is much more lighthearted and jovial; a large circle of chairs has been set up for an evening ‘social,’ the ladies are preparing food for a ‘potluck’ and the men are sitting around their coolers drinking beer. “Behold the Silents,” I say to Max, referring to ‘that’ generation born prior to and during World War II. “Their style of dress is very distinctive,” I continue, “button up, collared, long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, loose fitting jeans, suspenders to hold those jeans up (Silents love their suspenders), and proper sensible, brown leather shoes with dress socks.” One of the ‘old boys’ is wearing a tee shirt under his suspenders, and I immediately mark him out as a bit of a rebel because with the Silents tee shirts are never worn in a normal social setting, and neither are shorts, flip flops, or sandals. “And these guys shave every single day,” I add, while scrubbing my own three day, heavily stubbled chin. But I don’t ever go talk to them, because I’m not quite sure that I like them, and so instead sit in my lawn chair sipping an Arizona Sweet Tea.
We are situated near the East gateway to the North Cascades National Park and from our camp spot it’s about a 10-minute walk into the center of Winthrop. Now, contrary to my initial opinion upon arrival, I am actually charmed by this quaint and quirky town. It’s true Old West, with a boardwalk on both sides of Main Street that one can amble along and drink in the ambiance of what could honestly be mistaken for a Taylor Sheridan movie set, but the shops are real and they sell more than gimmicky gifts; hats, books, outdoor wear and a multitude of other items are all available for purchase from shops housed in buildings well over one hundred years old (just my opinion but I think that some of these structures must be haunted). Best of all, there is an ice cream shop and a top-notch burger joint literally beside each other so like seriously, what more can you ask for?
Looking East on Winthrop’s Main Street.
The Silents? No, I never did have any interaction with them. Maybe I should have, I don’t know, but then again Silents are kind of like us X’ers, they don’t make a whole lot of fuss about much and mostly keep to themselves. That in itself means I would probably get on nicely with this bunch, but when we returned to the Park the Silents were engrossed in the Presidential Debate and probably not even interested in talking to us punk kids, and let’s be honest now, it was well past their bedtime. We did talk to the camp host though and found out this bunch are all apple farmers from Yakima, which you know, is sort of interesting.
We also however had a pleasant visit with our next-door camp neighbour while in Winthrop, an ex-Air Force man from Tennessee who has an enormous motor home that he and his wife have been living in full time for well over a year now. Our current travel itineraries were compared and because I was wearing a Taos Pueblo tee shirt, we also reminisced about our previous journey through New Mexico (our neighbour had spent part of his childhood East of Taos so was quite interested to hear about where we had gone and what our thoughts were of the area). Cool? Absolutely, and do you want to know why? Well, because I said YES!!! Yeah I know that damn YES thing again, and it just keeps coming up, doesn’t it? It does, and there are times when I am very adept at sidestepping YES, and there are also times when I fully embrace it.
I guess Winthrop was one of those embracing times and surprisingly in this instance it wasn’t even that hard, because from what I’ve observed while traipsing around the West these past three years is that regular RV’ers are some of the most friendly, outgoing, and easy to get on with people one can ever meet, excluding myself of course. They really are, and that’s not something I could ever have expected but, as the author Irene Levine wrote,
“Traveling can be a lot like a grown-up version of college. You’re with a group of people who are somewhat like you in that they are adventurous, and they are intellectually curious. In addition, you are disconnected from the hassles and pressures from home, so it’s easier to stay in the moment.”
Which… in theory anyhow, facilitates the establishment of meaningful connections with fellow travelers, and… well… a meaningful connection can be pretty much anything now, can’t it? Like maybe even a short chat extoling the beauty of a Chihuahuan desert sunset with a fellow RV park guest? Yes for sure, why not? I did that, didn’t I? YES I did. YES I did.
Diablo Lake, North Cascades
Anyhow, on Day 3 of our road trip we joined up with the North Cascades Highway 20 (one of Washington State’s scenic byways), leaving behind the open parkland, Ponderosa pine covered hill country of Winthrop for the idyllic, alpine wilderness that many travelers say is comparable to the Swiss Alps. Is it? I can’t honestly say because I’ve never been to the Swiss Alps, but I have been to Banff and the mountains of the North Cascades are not dissimilar. It’s rugged country and still relatively unspoiled. The actual North Cascades National Park itself has very few roads at all, making it a backpack adventurer’s dream – which yeah umm… like…, Mart does not do backpack adventuring, okay? – like I’m way too fucking posh for that shit!
However I do enjoy a ‘road trip’ and this little drive from Winthrop to Mount Vernon, is a true ‘beauty.’ Imagine it this way – you leave Cranbrook, B.C., drive through Banff or Jasper National Park and end up on Vancouver Island, all in under 3 hours.
That night we stopped for the night in Mount Vernon and stayed in an RV park situated across the street from maybe the second sketchiest Walmart I’ve ever been to (Clovis, New Mexico takes top honours on that disreputable list) where I saw at least two cars that obviously someone was living in, a girl in her early 20’s with no teeth and yeah, a drug deal, and we weren’t even there that long, thank God. When we actually settled in for the night yes, you guessed it, no WIFI. Not a problem for Mart though because I come prepared, I have my Nerd Bag. For this trip: multiple packs of pens of all colours, leather bound journal, cords for my electronic devices, pamphlets on our next destinations, The latest editions of Atlantic Monthly and Conde Nast Traveler, two Moon books (USA RV Adventures, USA National Parks), a biography of Red Crow, a book on the social history of the British in India, AirPods and my MacBook. Yeah I know, I am not normal.
But whatever, right? Who wants to be normal anyway? Normal is colourless, devoid of shape and uninteresting. Normal is in the middle of anywhere where nothing ever happens. No… no I don’t think so… thanks anyway, but I’m totally cool with being ‘not’ normal.
‘59’er Diner’ just off Highway 2 near Leavenworth, Washington at Cole’s Corner. This place is not normal either, it is 1950’s retro-America, Airstream awesomeness and famous for its milkshakes (the blueberry shake was incredible). Guy Fieri once dropped in for his show (not at the same time as us unfortunately). He and I both recommend lunching here lol. Remember the Silent Generation that we encountered earlier? This was their ‘jam.’ That long sleeved, suspender sporting, 85-year-old just might be way cooler than you ever imagined!
Washington State’s Bavarian village – Leavenworth. Everything here is Bavarian – the shops, gas stations, the hospital, even McDonald’s. The surrounding mountains? Yeah, gorgeous. And if you love Christmas then stop in at Kris Kringl, 3 floors of everything ‘Holiday Season.’ I love Christmas as everyone knows but I didn’t go in that store (Max did) because I was busy down on the street managing the fans of Boy Bodhi MegaStar. No seriously, it was ridiculous! Ladies from across the street were yelling, “oh my God, you are so cute,” and they were heading straight for me and… well they were not talking to me. And here I am thinking GrumpyMarty is so famous, eh? No man, it’s all about the dog beside me posing up a storm, shamelessly I might also add.
That’s the MegaStar to my left, he’s kind of a big deal.
In Leavenworth we stayed at the KOA. For the most part you can never go wrong with a KOA, can you, and Leavenworth / Pine Valley KOA is for sure one of the nicer ones we’ve stayed in, well-treed, nicely spaced out between sites, and an easy 40-minute walk into the center of town. Only one problem, our campsite was right across from the playground and literally every other campsite near us had kids, little kids. We don’t have little kids. The campground asked if we had kids, we said ‘no,’ so why were we staying in the young family section surrounded by like, 30 kids? Rather entertaining though; moms chase the kids as they rip around on bikes, fall off swings and race back and forth to the pool (also right beside us) while the dads all congregate at one trailer smoking weed and watching football. Hey lol, not my rodeo, right?
Our loop through the Cascades took six days and we eventually came back to where we started out in North Idaho, so before crossing back over the Border into Canada we stopped for groceries in Bonners Ferry. Ummmm…. Look, I needed to stock up on sweet tea and Henry Weinhard’s Root Beer, okay? But yeah, I didn’t go into the grocery store, Max did. Boy Bodhi and I sat in the parking lot watching the locals move in and out and okay… so it’s an interesting town and no doubt very well armed, and rather colourful, in sort of an offbeat, back woodsy militia kind of way… and like I really needed more sweet tea so…. Being ‘not’ normal is fun, remember?
We very much enjoyed this wonderful little tour that took in not only the North Cascades but also the orchard country of Central Washington. I never talked about that, did I? I didn’t, but I was impressed. We saw vivid blotches of green laid down onto burnt dun hillsides which then revealed themselves to be acres and acres of apple trees, and what appeared to be small barns along the edges of those orchards were not barns at all, but stacks of apple boxes two and three stories high. And I never talked about the signs erected inside those orchards, written in Spanish to accommodate the seasonal Mexican field workers brought in to pick the apples. Where I come from, that’s not something you see every day, and as we drive by I think about those workers and wonder… yeah, well I wonder about so many things really, and I’m grateful and very much humbled.
Where next? Good question and not one I have an answer for. The kitchen table is already strewn with maps, books, magazines, etc. and I’m sitting there staring at those maps thinking that maybe through osmosis or telepathy or some other weird shit that I’ll be given an answer and then we’ll be off again, but the Universe doesn’t want to talk to me right now and all I can hear is the wind howling outside our window. It’s not like I need an immediate answer anyway, right? And surely dreaming is also part of the next adventure, because doesn’t every really good adventure begin with a dream? I think it does, so give me a moment to dream a little more, and I’ll get back to you, I promise.