Cycling in Sweden is huge. I read somewhere that just about everyone rides a bicycle in Sweden. And not for excerise or sport. No, they ride as a main form of transportation…for commuting, to go shopping, to do errands, to go play, to go to the movies, to go out to eat, etc., etc. Basically bicycles are for doing whatever whereever.

In fact, cities in Sweden have dedicated bike lanes on the streets, the bicycles have their own traffic lights, and pedestrians even yield to bicyclists. There are many well-marked paths for cycle touring as well. The Swedes do their best to make cycling safe and easy.

Of course, it goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway, that cycling, even though quite functional for the Swedes, is also good for the environment. And healthy, too!

When I was in Malmö, Sweden, which is a convenient train stop between Copenhagen and Stockholm, on my 15-day circumnaviation of the Batlic Sea, I had a few hours to go do some sightseeing in Malmö.

However, before I even left the train station to go wander the streets of Malmö, the first thing I noticed was this “parking lot” for biycles. I definitiely did a double-take and had to stop and look when I saw it. It didn’t have just a few bike racks with a few dozen bikes that I was used to seeing. Instead this area must have had hundreds, no probably thousands, of bicycles!

Well, for some reason this sight just amazed me, so of course I had to take pictures. And not just a picture or two of the general overview of the parking lot, but also some “artsy” photos as well.

I found out that Malmö has 410 km (about 255 miles) of bike paths, and approximately 40% of all commuting in Malmö is done by bicycle.

I also found out that most people don’t lock their bikes in Malmö, as there are so many bikes and that most people have one, that theft is not an issue.

Now what I really want to know is…how would you ever find your bicycle in a place like this?

Sweet Travels!

All photos Copyright Debby Lee 2010

No, I’m not talking about me. But I am talking about one of my sisters! Due in March, with a baby girl, my sister Nancy, and her husband John, are about to embark on the biggest, most wonderful journey of their lives. As my sister commented on one of my previous blogs, a photographic journey of my shoes and feet, “If you saw my feet now you would notice the travels into pregnancy. They are huge!”

me, and nancy approx 17 weeks pregnant

After she made this comment on my blog, I realized that Nancy has not really been the subject of any of my blogs thus far. Which is too bad, because after the first biggest fan of my blogging, my mother, Nancy is my second biggest fan. She tells me she reads each and every one of my stories, and has made comment after comment on many of them. Thanks, Sis, I appreciate that!

So now, this blog shall be about Nancy, in appreciation and love…

Nancy has done quite a bit of traveling in her life, and she and I have actually done a few excursions together. Our first ever travel experience was when we were both teenagers in high school. My mother sent us on a month-long trip to Europe, along with an organized group of several dozen other teenagers. For us, that was a great introduction to travel and to the world. Thanks, Mom!

nancy and me at the matterhorn and in brussels (gotta love the 80’s hair)

Belize was a tropical destination that Nancy and I shared together when we were in our 20’s. Nothing like soaking up the sun together, getting some snorkeling in, exploring the history and ancient architecture of the country, and strangely even meeting a reggae band from Miami. “You better Belize it!”

And then there was the memorable trip to Italy that Nancy and I did with our mother.

I asked Nancy where else she has traveled. She responded, “I’ve also been to Columbia, Peru, Australia and France. And Canada and Mexico. And Thailand and Brazil. Oh, and Manhattan, Miami and Chicago; DC, West Virginia, Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico, Washington, Boston. Ummmmm what else…”

nancy’s foot in brazil, with a little lizard

My sister is also an open water rower. A skuller, since college, she has been rowing up a storm. Although not a professional, she has been in race after race, winning! It is very impressive to me – she is a small person, yet her strength is astounding! Locally while living in California, she has rowed across the Monterey Bay, all they way from Marina Del Rey to the Catalina Islands, and to every safe possible landmark in the San Francisco Bay. And whenever she travels anywhere, even abroad, she always tries to see if she can row there!

nancy rowing in sf bay

How she got the opportunity to row in Brazil is a humorous story that she loves to tell…

While in Rio, Nancy decided to scope out several local rowing clubs there to ask someone if she could row. One day, she took a walk around their lagoon to gather all the phone numbers of the clubs. Having no pen with her, she literally memorized three different phone numbers (probably not like the 10-digit numbers that we are used to either), quickly went back to her hotel so as to not lose the information, and tried to call a club or two. But, of course, no one spoke English, and Nancy did not speak Portuguese. She was afraid that she might miss the opportunity to row in Brazil.

the lagoon in rio

Fortunately, she was traveling with a friend who happened to be from Brazil. She asked him to please take her down to one of the clubs so that he could ask them if she could row in their lagoon. While he was talking to a few people in Portuguese, Nancy noticed that they were all looking over at her very, very intently, whispering to each other. She ended up getting VIP treatment, was put in a boat right away, and was even asked to compete in a local regatta the following day.

Nancy began to wonder about all of this sudden and impressive attention that she was receiving. After all, all she wanted to do was go for a row. But the treatment she was getting was a bit out of the ordinary. She quickly found out why…

As she was getting in the boat to row around the lagoon, Nancy’s friend said to her, “You better not fall in. I just told them you were a professional rower from the United States!!”

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!” she exclaimed, as she pulled off from the dock in her hot pink Lululemon tank top and Bebe workout shorts. (Definitely not professional rower’s attire, to say the least.)

a beach in thailand

When Nancy told me this story, she added, “This is just a funny story of the things you sometimes have to do to get things done in another country. But, in some ways it is actually part of the Brazilian culture to do things like that, too. Most likely they knew I wasn’t a professional rower, but they also got to tell a good story to their club-mates…We were visited by a professional rower from the US!”

As a parting thank you gift, Nancy donated a nice chunk of US dollars to the present coach. He was running a class at the time for disabled rowers. Hopefully it was enough to help them out…or at least so they could all have lunch and a beer!

So, my sister got to row in Brazil! I wonder how she backed out of the competition for the next day, though…?

nancy and john in brazil – a self portrait

Well, now my sister and her husband are off on their grand adventure! Through the nine months of her travels into pregnancy, Aunt Debby hopes that this journey, and the future with their baby girl, are filled with happiness, fun and love!

Sweet Travels!

I would just like to say a big thank you to all of you who have read my blogs this past year! I appreciate it!!

I would also like to wish to everyone all over this world of ours a 2010 filled with peace, hope, good health, prosperity, compassion, fabulous experiences, and love! May 2010 be happy, safe, abundant, and sunflowery!

Tesekkür ederim!

Sweet Travels!

Debby Lee – Tea, Sugar, a Dream

My mother. My loving, kind-hearted, generous mother. A mother who has been an example of strength and courage; one who has shown unyielding support for me. A woman who has chosen in her life to make her two children her priority, and who I think, if I may say so, she has taught well.

My mother has not traveled much in her life due to her choices. Over the years, she has barely left her state of California. But, I know she does not regret that at all, not one bit, because of her two priorities, my sister and me.

That is, except for one special trip that, along with my sister, the three of us took together several years ago. During the middle of my five-month solo journey in Europe, my sister emailed me one day, “Mom and I want to visit you in Italy.” “Great,” I said. “Fabulous. You two book your flights, meet me here, and I will handle the rest.”

my sister and my mother at the Roman Coliseum

I planned a wonderful 8-day trip from Venice to Rome to Florence to the Cinque Terre and back to Venice. My mom said that this was the “trip of her lifetime,” a dream vacation; one that she remembers almost daily; one that she keeps a photo album of next to her bed; one that she holds dear to her heart.

But this blog is not about that trip. I can save that for another time. No, this blog is about how my mother is my biggest fan of my blogging. And she doesn’t even own a computer, let alone go anywhere to get internet access!

No, instead, she listens to my blogs. She lets me read them to her over the phone. I read her my stories just as she used to read me stories when I was a little girl. Although, the difference is that various other people wrote the stories she read to me, whereas I read her stories written by me. And to her, that is amazing, sweet, and quite special!

my sister and my mother at the Cinque Terre

I not only read my stories to my mother so that she can enjoy them, but it also actually allows me to edit them. As I read the blogs aloud to her, with my bluetooth in ear, so my hands are free to type, I can make changes and fix things that I find as I am reading out loud.

Sometimes I read her my blogs, not just once, but two, three, four, even five times, until I am satisfied with what I have written and I am ready to publish them for the potential rest of the world to read. And even though she hears my stories over and over again, she never complains. She treasures them each time I share them with her.

In fact, she tells me that she “loves my stories.” I know that she is my mother, and could just be saying that to support me, but I don’t think so. I know she genuinely loves my stories. She says that they paint a picture for her, and she can see where I have traveled, as if she went there too.

my sister, my mother, and me

Because she doesn’t ever see them on the internet, I will sometimes describe to her the pictures that I put with my blogs. And then when a blog is published, I will print it out and save it in a pile, so that each time I visit her, I bring her a stack of the actual blogs that I have written, complete with pictures and everything.

While my mom says that someday her two other dream vacations would be to Paris and to Greece, for now she listens to my stories. My mother is my biggest fan, and for this I say to her, for all the world to potentially read, “Thank you, Mom. I love you.”

Sweet Travels!

Have you ever taken a picture of your shoes or feet on purpose? Have you ever done this when you are traveling? Perhaps you have, as I know of at least one other person, aside from myself, who has had fun with this photographic technique.

Well, it is not really a technique, but an art form. Well, it is not really an art form either. But it is a way of proving that you are somewhere, especially when you are traveling alone and no one is around to take your picture at some particular fabulous location. Or, even if others are around, taking pictures of your feet can be fun anyway.

Here is a small photographic journey of my shoes and feet. Note that occasionally, my youngest sister was with me on a travel adventure, so her feet are included as well.

The Piazzas and Squares of Europe make for a scenic city backdrop to my feet. These photos of my walking shoes are in Siena, Italy (sorry for the bad exposure), and Tallinn, Estonia, respectively.

Rushing rivers while hiking make for scenic outdoorsy backgrounds for my feet. Here my hiking boots are shown along the Savage River during a day-hike in Denali National Park in Alaska, as well as on a three-day tramp (“hike” in New Zealand terminology) on the Routeburn Track.

Beaches and the ocean are perfect places for footsie portraits. My bare feet are relaxing on this beach in Falconara, Italy. My sister’s feet and mine are gazing at the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Iceland.

More outdoor locations include looking down at my hiking boot while backpacking on the Wonderland Trail of Mt. Rainier, and showing off the crampons on our feet when my sister and I were taking a walk on Solhelmajokull Glacier in Iceland.

Grass is another pleasant place for a picturesque foot snapshot, such as this one in Hyde Park in London, with my black walking shoes.

And finally, the Galapagos Islands make for a variety of bare feet photos.

So next time you feel like you need an image of yourself to prove that you are somewhere, or if you just want a different type of picture for your photo album and to show all your friends, you can always take a photograph of your shoes and feet!

Sweet Travels!

All photos of my feet Copyright Debby Lee 2009.

The rooftops of homes, sometimes colorful and varied, sometimes similar in texture and style; churches and cathedrals with their ornate spires, rounded domes, and soaring bell towers scattered throughout, yet seemingly dominating, the scenery; majestic castles and towers, and functional bridges; trees, vineyards, rolling hills and farmland, or perhaps waters, surrounding beyond; the activity of people below.

Tallin from the Tower of Oleviste Church

This describes some of what you will experience when surveying a general overview of a European city. This fabulous way of getting a sense of what Europe is all about is accomplished by obtaining the highest point possible in any given city. Church bell towers, cathedral domes, observation towers, hills…getting to the top of any one of these gets you high above a city to see the spectacular views.

Views of Prague from St. Vitas Cathedral

While I was on two separate journeys to Europe, one a five-month solo trip, the other a 15-day circumnavigation of the Baltic Sea, I made it a goal to climb to the top of every possible viewpoint that I could. And when I say climb, I mean I didn’t take the elevator – I took the stairs!

Approximately 6,800 stairs, give or take, at the very least, to be almost exact!

Rooftops of Bratislava, Florence & Tallin

Not only did I want to see the cities from above, I also needed the exercise. Yes, I did quite a lot of walking in Europe in general, and climbing stairs, sometimes several hundred at one time, kept me in shape. It also allowed me to eat all the spectacular European food without any guilt.

The accountant in me actually kept track as best as I could of how many stairs I stepped on each time I meandered up a bell tower, or church dome, or whatever it was that I was climbing. Many times the ticket booth actually tells you how many stairs there are to complete, usually as a kind warning to make sure one is in good physical condition. Other times, I actually counted the steps myself, as I was always curious.

Views of Riga, Latvia and Zadar, Croatia

To name a couple of places that I climbed, in Italy for example, there was the bell tower of the Duomo of Florence (414 steps), the Torre Guinnigi in Lucca (227 steps), and two towers in Sienna – Torre al Mangia (400) and the tower of the Museo dell’ Opera (132). There was also the bell tower of St. Mark’s Basilica overlooking St. Mark’s Square, but for some reason I don’t have a count on the steps there. If I recall correctly, they only allowed an ascent by an elevator.

Occasionally, I climbed stairs not to overlook a city, but to get to a city, such as the town of Corniglia in the Cinque Terre part of Italy. On that occasion, I climbed the 370 stairs, not only once, but twice, as I visited the town on two different days. (Of course, I could have taken a bus, but chose to hike.)

Venice, Italy from St. Mark’s Tower

The longest flight of stairs was actually the first ones that I encountered during my solo trip to Europe – the 530 stairs of the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral to the Golden Gallery in London.

I would have liked to have climbed the Eiffel Tower in Paris, but alas, there they make you take an elevator. Although I did get to climb the 299 steps of Petrin Tower of Prague, also known as the “mini Eiffel Tower.” However, in Paris, I did get to ascend the 444 steps of the tower of the Notre Dame Cathedral, and the 284 steps of the Arc de Triomphe.

Florence, Italy

Most of the cities had churches or cathedrals with staircases, but in Berlin there was a synagogue with 125 steps, so that I observed Berlin from both the Berlin Cathedral (267 steps) and the synagogue. In Milan, I climbed 250 stairs so that I could actually walk on the roof of that city’s cathedral. There was a castle in Ireland with 51 stairs, and there were 400 steps leading to a monastery built against a cliff wall on the island of Amorgos in Greece.

In Copenhagen, the Round Tower offered a quite different way to the top. Instead of stairs, this building had a spiral walkway turning 7 ½ times as you approached the views. (This is not part of my 6,800 accomplishments, as I really couldn’t count definitive steps.)

Lucca, Italy

Furthermore, however, I would have to say that my accounting of the 6,800 stairs of Europe does not really include the stairs in the hostels that I would climb to get to my room, or the staircases to the second or third floors of museums, or the occasional couple of steps here and there to various other buildings, restaurants and stores that I visited. Thus, must have conquered more than 6,800 steps!

Siena, Italy

A definite bonus in climbing all these flights of stairs, particularly in the bell towers of churches and cathedrals, aside from the views and the exercise, was the actual church bells. Not only seeing these large sources of European sound up close, but on several occasions hearing them ring their spectacular melodies and chimes just as I was up there next to them.

You know, now that I think about it, I really must have actually climbed at least 13,600 steps, for each time I went up, I had to come back down…

Sweet Travels!

All photos Copyright Debby Lee 2009.

P.S. Here is a list of the stairs I climbed:

South Tower of St. Stephan’s Cathedral – Vienna, Austria – 343
Zadar Tower – Zadar, Croatia – 178
Bell Tower (approx) – Split, Croatia – 50
St. Vitas Cathedral in Prague Castle – Prague, Czech Republic – 287
Petrin Tower (“mini Eiffel Tower”) – Prague, Czech Republic – 299
St. Nicholas Cathedral – Prague, Czech Republic – 60
Dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral to Golden Gallery – London, England – 530
Tower of Oleviste Church – Tallin, Estonia – 258
Hall Tower – Tallin, Estonia – 118
Tower of Notre Dame – Paris, France – 444
Arc de Triomphe – Paris, France – 284
Dome of Berlin Cathedral – Berlin, Germany – 267
Neue Synagogue Museum – Berlin, Germany – 125
Monastery near town of Hora – Amorgos, Greece – 400
Lykavittos Hill (approx) – Athens, Greece – 75
St. Stephen’s Basilica – Budapest, Hungary – 302
Castle near Gallarus Oratory – Dingle Peninsula, Ireland – 51
Bell Tower of St. Mark’s Basilica (elevator only?) – Venice, Italy – ?
Bell Tower of Duomo of Florence – Florence, Italy – 414
Torre Guinigi – Lucca, Italy – 227
Torre del Mangia – Siena, Italy – 400
Tower of Museo dell’ Opera – Siena, Italy – 132
Bell Tower of Duomo…Torre del Moro – Orvieto, Italy – 250
Duomo of Milan…to roof – Milan, Italy – 250
Town of Corniglia, from trail below up to town – CinqueTerre, Italy – 370
Town of Corniglia, from trail below up to town – CinqueTerre, Italy – 370
Riga Cathedral Dome – Riga, Latvia – 58
Michael’s Tower (approx) – Bratislava, Slovak Republic – 50
Grossmunster Church – Zurich, Switzerland – 187
TOTAL: 6779

Over nine decades ago, a recognizable container with a curved tunnel-shaped top, a tube-like interior, a movable signal flag, and a latching door was invented. Now everybody across the country uses this contraption, or some other form of it, such as a slot through a door, or a wall-mounted box attached to a house, or a cluster of boxes in one centralized location.

I’m talking about the much-valued mailbox. And while the exterior shape of it is meant to prevent the collection of water and snow, the interior shape is meant to collect incoming mail. And when that signal flag is up, it informs the postal carrier that there is something outgoing.

In 1915, a U.S. Post Office employee, Roy J. Joroleman, designed this familiar curbside mailbox to save time for the delivery of mail. You see, during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, prior to the use of any type of mailbox, believe it or not, postal carriers actually had to deliver mail to homes by knocking on doors and waiting patiently for someone to answer. And when I say patiently, it has been noted that each postal employee actually lost 1.5 hours each day just waiting for the door to be answered. (A bit unproductive, I’d say. If I had an hour and a half idle time, I’d probably be fired…)

Over time (but before 1915), mail slots in doors or in walls of homes were at least cut into place, so that if someone was not home or unable to answer the door, then mail could be delivered. This resolved the idle time, but it did not resolve everything.

Apparantly there was still an issue of taking time to walk to homes to deliver the mail, especially in rural areas, where they were some distance from the street. (How far, I really don’t know.) In addition, some rural residents had no public mail delivery at all and actually had to pick up their mail at a post office located sometimes miles from their homes. (Interesting facts that I did not know before my research on mailboxes…)

Finally, Mr. Joroleman’s curbside mailbox design was put into practice, especially in those rural areas. Now no more idle time or walking distances. Although, for some reason, some farmers and rural homeowners decided that they wanted to use bushel baskets, tins, and wooden boxes in which to collect their mail instead of the new-fangled mailbox. They seemed to resist purchasing these mailboxes. (I am not sure why, though. Was the cost too much? Or perhaps the custom back then was making due instead of buying new? Or maybe they just wanted to recycle?)

However, in 1923, eight years after Roy’s innovation, it actually, really, truly became mandatory that every house have a mailbox or mail slot for the delivery of mail. (Wow, I did not know that…) I guess that meant no more bushel baskets, tins, or wooden boxes. (I wonder what would happen these days if someone didn’t have a mailbox? Would they be fined?)

Ok, so now you probably know more about facts and history of the mailbox than you ever knew before, and you are really wondering where I am going with all this. Not too far really, other than to show you the mailbox pictures that I took while I was in Alaska with my sister this past summer.

While traveling around, I got into one of my “photography obsessions” where I become enthralled with taking pictures of the same object over and over, such as The Windows of Porvoo and The Homes of Skagway.

These mailbox photos were taken on the highway between Anchorage and Denali, as well as on the various roads of the Kenai Peninsula. While I am not sure what originally caught my eye, I became intrigued by the rows of mailboxes as we drove by. I am sure that I have seen zillions of mailboxes in my life before, but for some reason, perhaps because I was on vacation, I noticed these mailboxes.

I must have stopped a dozen times to take pictures, carefully pulling off the main roads, sometimes onto gravel side streets, not only to photograph entire rows of mailboxes, but also of clusters of two, three or four, and then of individual boxes. It is these individualized pictures that I liked the best. I appreciated the creative decorations that some people put on their mailboxes, as well as the various colors, sizes and shapes.

I believe that the mailbox has been a symbol of joy and fun for people. It seems important to everyone, as we all go to check our mailboxes everyday. (Except, of course, for Sundays.) I know I like to going to the mailbox to get the mail. And while getting the bills, and junk mail, aren’t necessarily a favorite, mail is definitely a way of giving and receiving tangible communication with family and friends.

The Alaskan Flag

Needless to say, though, today there is a more popular way to send and receive mail, especially the communication. Hopefully though, email will never completely replace the iconic mailbox. Thank you, Mr. Joroleman.

Sweet Travels!

All photos Copyright Debby Lee 2009 (some photos altered to exclude names and street numbers)

Facts and History of the mailbox, courtesy of Wikipedia

Somewhere along the road between Anchorage and Denali (or between Denali and Anchorage if you are headed in that direction), along George Parks Highway #3, the 60’s and 70’s still exist. At least a Volkswagen bus, seemingly from that era, still exists.

Decorated with colorful flowers and hearts, and big yellow smiley faces, you can’t help but spot this vehicle as you drive by. The background is painted purple, the tires have blue hubcaps, the windows have orange curtains. The bus is just sitting there on a gravel parking lot in front of an old building, strategically placed for all to see.

You also really can’t help but smile when you see this piece of history. In fact, it is so compelling, that you really have to stop and take a picture or two.

Because more than the visual appeal, the VW bus presents a message. You don’t have to think too deeply about the meaning of what is written. You just have to read two simple words, and instantly you are reminded of the two most important concepts of life…peace and love.

As I was sitting there contemplating the words on the sides of the bus, a few additional significant thoughts came to mind as well…happiness…compassion…understanding…

So next time you are driving down a road, whether traveling or not, keep your eye out for life reminders like this. And just because the vehicle of the messages may have been from over 40 year ago, the messages are timeless.

Peaceful and Loving (and Sweet) Travels!

Photos by Debby

Mike, the final backpacker to arrive at the Indian Bar shelter that day, was on a much needed (his words), and much deserved (my words), vacation. From Yelm, Washington, and a member of the United States Coast Guard, Mike had returned six months ago from serving in Iraq for 13 months. So, when I say much deserved vacation, I mean it!

Mike was not only proudly encircling Mount Rainier by himself, but he was also taking only 8 days to complete the Wonderland Trail. I must say that that made quite an impression on me. And, like all of us in the shelter that day, he was in good spirits, not only in spite of the rain, but also because I am sure that he was glad to be back home!

Mike with Paul, Don and Glenn (photo by Melissa)

Now that the eight members of the Indian Bar shelter group were all together, dry, eating dinner, and getting ready for sleep, I decided to ask everyone what the highlight of their experiences has been during each of their backpacking trips.

taking notes for my blogs (photo by Melissa)

The scenery was definitely a highlight for everyone. Places, such as Klapatchie Park, were “like a picture postcard,” Sheri declared. Being able to see the snow-covered Mt. Rainier itself is always a goal for anyone. Glenn, Paul and Don said that the beauty of their entire trek “has taken them.” And I myself thought that Indian Bar was one of the most spectacular areas on my trip.

On any given day, with abundant trees, colorful wildflowers, enticing mountain hills, cold white glaciers, blue lakes, rushing rivers, changing skies, and majestic Mt. Rainier, how can anyone not help but completely enjoy themselves on an adventure such as this!

Mt. Rainier with clouds and the moon (photo by Melissa)

But more than the scenery, it was the people that each of us has met on the trail that has made an impact on us. For example, Chris and Sheri said that all along the way, each and every day, they had met some really great and interesting people.

A couple of days earlier, Mike had met a 70-year old man, who was backpacking by himself. Mike could not only see the nostalgia on this man’s face, but he was inspired by this man’s age and abilities.

the MRWTIB shelter group (photo by Debby)

Melissa and I also met an amazing group of trail runners a few days prior. Keeping in mind that they are fully supported and don’t have to carry backpacks, they still will have had the accomplishment of completing the entire 93 miles of the Wonderland Trail in only three, yes three, days!

For me, meeting all these people in the shelter that day, especially Mike, whom I thanked in person for his service in Iraq, was a great way to spend a layover day in Indian Bar.

the scenery leaving Indian Bar (photo by Melissa)

Glenn, Paul and Don commented that we are all kindred spirits, all of us who hike the Wonderland Trail. We are all people doing the same thing, and thus the instant camaraderie, support and kindness makes being out in the wilderness for days on end an awesome experience!

Sweet Travels!

Photos by Debby and Melissa

A few hours later, and a bit wetter from the rain than the rest of us, the next backpackers arrived at the dry shelter of Indian Bar. Sheri and Chris, a married couple from Tumwater, Washington, were taking twelve days to circumnavigate Mt. Rainier on the Wonderland Trail. And like everyone else in the shelter that day, they showed up in good spirits, with plenty of smiles and laughter and jokes.

just some of the trees (photo by Debby)

Glenn, Paul, Don, Melissa and I decided to greet the latest members of the Indian Bar shelter group with some hot chocolate. Boy, did Sheri and Chris appreciate the gesture. We knew they were on their way, as not only did Glenn, Paul and Don meet the two the previous day, but we also saw Sheri and Chris descending the tree-lined trail into the wildflower-filled area of Indian Bar. They looked wet, we thought, and so we decided that the hot chocolate would be in order.

Sheri and Chris (photo by Melissa)

And besides, it was Sheri and Chris who were assigned the shelter that night for sleeping. The rest of us technically would have had to set up tents and sleep outside in the rain. As Glenn, Paul and Don had an inkling that Sheri and Chris might offer this to us, we figured that the hot chocolate would be the least that we could do to thank them in advance. And yes, the gracious couple allowed us all to stay together in the shelter that night!

clothes drying and tent set up in the shelter (photo by Debby)

So now the seven of us stayed dry in the shelter that afternoon. As Sheri and Chris began to hang up their wet clothes and supplies to dry, and set up their tent (in the shelter), we all sat around and talked and joked. As we were cooking up dinner, each of us with their own favorite flavor of freeze-dried food, Chris wondered when the pizza was going to be delivered…

At some point, Chris also decided that at 10 pm that night, we would be taking a vote to see who had to leave the “island…”

But jokes aside, after the hand puppets were displayed, we thought we would play charades. Well, we really actually never did play charades, but the board games were brought out. Well, ok, no one really carried board games in their backpacks, but somehow the jokes kept flying…

where Melissa and I slept (cots in the shelter) (photo by Debby)

At one point, a very cheerful, very friendly park ranger came by the shelter to check our permits and to see how we were all doing. She was all wet from the rain, hiking to Indian Bar as a day-hike only. We offered her some of the hot chocolate, but with a thank you, she did not want any. But she was full of enthusiasm, even with the rain, and just as full of good spirits as we all were.

We told the park ranger that we would all be staying together in the shelter that night, and she seemed glad about that. We bid her farewell, as she went on her way to hike back out to go sleep in a warm bed.

wildflowers by the trail (photo by Debby)

As the seven of us sat there watching the rain sometimes stop, with a patch of blue sky sometimes appearing, the wildflowers still greatly standing tall, the trees still as green as ever, and the sound of the river rushing by, we thought that no other backpackers would be arriving at the shelter that night. But one more person showed up; one who was just as in good spirits as the rest of us.

Please read the next blog to find out who will be the last member of the “Mt. Rainier Wonderland Trail Indian Bar shelter group.”

Sweet Travels!

Photos by Debby and Melissa