“Will you bring the petting zoo?” Our far-flung kids ask this every time we head out to see them. Of course, the answer is yes. The ability to travel with the animals is one of the primary reasons we bought our van, so we’re happy to make room for the dogs and birds and their sundry provisions. Our two senior rescue mutts, Chili and Ellie, aren’t impressed that we went whole hog and bought a crazily expensive Winnebago Revel Sprinter van complete with solar panels and a nifty motorized bed. They just like being able to go with us on our adventures. 

Everyone likes a good view out the window, so my husband built a custom viewing platform for our short-legged dogs, which doubles as their bunk bed at night. Our parrot Lovey is happy sitting up front on the cupholder or perched on the swing in her cage where the motion of the van mimics swaying treetops. Having animals along for the ride requires you to tolerate nose prints on the glass and a certain amount of dirt, dog hair, and dander. The smell is negligible, but maybe we’re just used to it. 

One recent weekend we had no idea where we were headed, but we had a short list of must-haves. Hudson’s hamburger joint was a top priority, so we headed east to Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. We enjoyed our lunch in the shade of a lakeside park and looked at a map—the paper kind. Our campsite had to be in the woods on public land, away from people and traffic but not too long a drive, and with a creek close by for refreshment. 

The area north of the freeway between Kellogg and Wallace looked promising, with vast expanses of Forest Service land laced with a multitude of watersheds and old logging roads. We followed our noses through gorgeous green countryside, occasionally consulting our map. There was no Internet and very little signage. 

After fruitlessly pursuing several narrow winding tracks that initially looked promising, we found ourselves bumping along in the deepening dusk, peering into the looming forest through a downpour. We began to trade away our must-haves in exchange for actually finding a place that would suffice. The animals were restless, and we were beginning to think it was a bonehead idea to embark on an excursion with zero planning.  

We ended up on forest road #152, a fairly decent road interspersed with deep ruts and pockets of standing water. No people, no cars. After a while, we spied a rugged sidetrack that led off into the woods on the right, where we suspected there was a creek. We were grateful for having four-wheel drive, because, Eureka! We hit pay dirt. A level, needle-and-moss carpeted space to camp, sheltering firs, and a small crystalline creek just steps away. 

Next morning, we explored the rest of FR 152, and found it ended at Settler’s Grove, a 2-mile easy hiking loop through old-growth cedar. The giant trees were stunning, the burned areas intriguing, and we didn’t see a soul. 

Invigorated after a little morning birdwatching, we headed home over King Pass, and dropped into Wallace after a picnic by yet another pretty little creek. We have an embarrassment of riches when it comes to the variety and abundance of beautiful outdoor places to romp. Our recent quickie trip in the van shows that sometimes, all you have to do is pack up, grab a good map, and head out. And, yes, take the petting zoo!

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When we embarked on our 1,400 mile self-supported journey from Vancouver, British Columbia, to Monterey, California, last July, my daughter Julie and I were sure of only one thing: We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. But a month later, by the time we were on the Amtrak Coast Starlight from Salinas to Seattle, our anticipation and nerves had evolved into gratitude and new friendships.  

We were able to connect with some wonderful people and nature, using hiker/biker campsites throughout the trip. Our typical daily routine started with oatmeal for breakfast, packing our bikes for the day’s ride, taking a break mid-morning at a bakery or coffee shop, finding a spot with views of the Pacific to eat lunch (tuna, flatbread, fruit, and chocolate was a classic), pulling into a grocery store by mid-afternoon, and then riding to our destination for the night. 

We set up our campsite, bought firewood, and then Julie would disappear to write or paint in her journal while I would befriend fellow campers. Without a doubt, we were fast asleep shortly after sunset. We quickly got into a rhythm of life on our tour, which was all consuming in a wonderful way.    

We were able to connect with many kinds people and, of course, the beauty of nature along the way. Jerry and Rea in Elma charged us $5 for camping and gave us eight homemade cookies and great advice for cycling the Oregon and California coasts. Through Oregon, we cycled and dined with Chantal, Sonny, and Paul for about a week. All three were hearing-impaired. They inspired us with their gourmet cooking, kindness, and bravery and became great friends.  

When our friends Edward and Emily—another father-daughter duo from Richmond, Virginia— joined us for two weeks, we formed an awesome cycling team. A third father-daughter duo, Tom and Angela, rescued me on Highway 1, when I took a spill and Phyllis at the Tomales Bakery gave me first aid supplies—and leftover pastries for breakfast the next morning! 

My lifetime memories of our trip will be of Julie’s compassionate leadership, the many friends we made at our stops along the way, and the friends with whom we rode. I will always recall the stunning views, the vastness of the Pacific Ocean, the Redwoods and other magnificent forests. 

What did I re-learn from our bicycle tour? Resilience and determination at any age works! It’s okay (even good) to ask others for help. And finally, enjoy what each day brings—even if you’re not sure what it will be.

Pacific Coast Trip Planning Tips 

• Buy the Adventure Cycling Association’s paper map set and app. 
• Read “Cycling the Pacific Coast” by Bill Thorness.  
• Create an Excel document with a tentative day-by-day plan. However, hiker/biker sites throughout Washington, Oregon, and California do not require an advance reservation, and we had no problems with them filling up.  
• Test all gear. In the months preceding, we did two trial runs to local campsites to make sure our set-up was ready for the long haul. Our trial runs helped us dial in the packing list and allay our questions and concerns.  
• Trim excess. Nothing like a two-hour climb to remind you every ounce counts! Even so, we had about a 70-pound set-up each. 
• Preserve some space for grocery runs. Food is a central part of a cross-country trip and a great morale booster. 

Ken Robertson graduated from WSU on an Army ROTC scholarship and spent over 20 years in the Army, where he deployed in the First Gulf War. In retirement, he now enjoys yoga, cycling, swimming, and quality time with his wife, children, and grandchildren.   

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