Day 55, 4:22, Tuesday, October 28, Washington, DC, 10,127 miles,

I am posting this to my blog just as we are pulling into my garage in Washington DC at 4:22 p.m. after traveling  10,127 miles across this great continent. Our journey has now come to an end. (Click here for final map, shown in below posting.)

Fifty-five days ago, a little more than three weeks after we lost our beloved Leben, Erde and I started our trip, my seventh, the sixth for Erde,  by spending a night at the home of friends in York PA, Bill and Leslie Wiles, where we have always been welcome and never leave without a doggy bag. The next day we moved on to Mongaup camp in NY, which is just down the mountain from my old boy scout camp, where my lifelong love of camping was born and where my will requests that my ashes be spread with Leben's and Erde's.  Last year when we were there, there were two resident eagles; this year,  symbolically, there was one.

The next day we moved on to Canada, first to Charleston camp and then deep into the Algonquin Park forest to wonderful and serene Brent Camp for a couple of days.  The treat there for me was to see how the "Leben and Erde" I carved in a table there before  had aged, and it aged well.  I recalled vividly sitting there the year before carving their names with the two of them sleeping peacefully by my side.

Before moving west to Lake Superior, we camped at Champlain Park and then for two days at the supposed jewel of the Ontario Provincial Parks, Killarney, although I think they are all jewels. The rain hit us hard there, but we managed to stay quite dry and I improved my tarping skills.

Next up was the wonderful drive along the eastern shore of Lake Superior with its stunning views of what most people think is an ocean. First we camped at Pancake Bay and then at Pukaskwa, where two years ago Leben became paralyzed.  It was not a sad visit for us there, though,  but a happy one, knowing that that magnificent dog went on to live for two more years, even stopping back at Pukaskwa last year in his wheelchair. After one more two-day stop along the Lake Superior drive at Sleeping Giant park, we moved on to Thunder Bay to pick up a new blower for the Defender's  air conditioner, which I had ordered from Vermont after it failed in New York, and later had installed in Winnipeg.

After Thunder Bay, we headed due west, stopping off for one night at lovely Aaron park, and then across the hot plains and prairies of Canada in Manitoba and Saskatchewan, camping at Birds Hill, where 13 years ago Sonntag and I got caught in frightening lightning storm, then at Lake Audy in Riding National Park, sleeping amidst the bison and bears, and then one other camp best cited for its convenience to the highway than its amenities.

After a night at a pleasant camp in Vermillion upon entering Alberta, we finally arrived at the northern Canadian Rockies at quaint Jasper, where I wrote in my journal that the entire trip to that point was worth it just for the first 45 km drive into the park.   Six days in Jasper’s Whistler camp and then Banff’s splendid Lake Louise were not enough to settle my mind, but they were enough to satisfy my soul, so we moved on in the direction of Vancouver Island.

At the suggestion of a fellow camper, I took route 99 into Vancouver, and proved once again that it pays to not only seek advice, but listen to it.  After one very pleasant  night at Juniper camp at the tail end of the northernmost desert in North America near Cache Creek, we jumped onto 99 and have no regrets.  What we expended in energy fretting over the often treacherous road, we gained back in spirit by a solo bivouac at a wonderful isolated site in the mountains we found along Goat Creek. Wow.

The next day, making the ferry to Vancouver Island after a 225km drive with five minutes to spare, we stayed for two days with Nicholas, Michelle and Rudy, the guardians of Kyra, the beautiful German shepherd we met on last year's trip, who died last November.  Kyra, like Leben, was wheelchair-bound, but there were no bounds to her spirit. Erde especially enjoyed the visit there, as her favorite spot in the house was the kitchen, which she thought of as salmon-central.

We then moved north for two days to Port Hardy where we again stayed at the Quatse camp, drove to Cape Scott, visited Chris Hunter, the most affable barber on the planet, and stocked up on muffins at the Market Street Inn, before moving south to mid-island, where we turned west to the Pacific Shore for two days at Wya and camped right on a bluff on the ocean, spending one night each before and after that at the wonderful ecological reserve called Good Karma Spring that Les and Sue Strachan are building literally with their hands.  Their piece of heaven there is so orderly that the black bear that ambled onto our little share of it just walked on through without so much as stopping for a growl or greeting.

We then headed south and hopped the ferry to spectacular Olympic Peninsula, where for the first two nights we stayed in heavily forested camps named Elwah and Hoh, before moving on for the next three nights to an absolutely wonderful camp on a bluff overlooking the Pacific, which was not exactly at peace with itself when we were there, which was fine with me as it added to the drama.

After three peaceful days on the Washington State Pacific, we headed south along the spectacular Oregon west coast, camping first at Cape Lookout, where we had to look out for ourselves more than anything because of the terrible storm we got hit with there, not to mention the marauding raccoons who pilfered my food container on my roof rack, and then camping, cheating, really, in  a yurt at the  Umpqua Lighthouse park, which provided us with a welcomed respite from the pesky rains of the northwest at this time of year.

The California coast offered us a variety of scenery changes,  giving us three nights among the beautiful tall redwood trees in Jededia Smith, Richardson and Samuel Taylor parks, but hour upon hour of sheer pleasure - and sometimes fright - as we navigated the stunning coastal highway.  We were also thrilled (or at least I was) to pass through the few little quaint towns that show up along the coast. We didn't stop to browse the shops because the road beckoned, although we did stop at two different vets along the way to deal with a problem Erde developed, but which they successfully cured.

After our customary stop at Coit Tower in San Francisco, we turned the Defender around and started our long journey  home, first stopping at cold Lake Tahoe where most of the parks are already closed, and the bears know the ones that are still open. One of those bears knew not only which park was still open, but who had the food on his vehicle's roof rack, which happened to be me.  After a noisy attempt to get to my food, just five feet away from my head, I shooed the bear away with a long  blow of my whistle at 1:00, and he or she was good enough to comply, damaging only my rear plastic window in a way that is very repairable.

After Tahoe, we headed off on spectacular route 50 to the Nevada desert, spending one solitary night in a spectacular  setting that resembled one of those used for Hollywood westerns of years ago, and spending the next under millions of  stars at Cave Lake in the same great site Leben and Erde and I had 13 years ago.  There were more joyous memories there than there were stars in the sky as my mind spanned the entire time I had the pleasure of Leben and Erde's  company, and I do mean pleasure.

After Cave Lake, we bivouacked at the convenient Green River state park in Utah for the night, where we barely escaped a terrible electric storm, but we were ready for it.  We then moved on to Denver, where we stayed in a lovely state park so I could visit with an old college friend and his wife for the first time since we graduated years ago. And what a pleasant visit that was.

It seems that on these long trips of mine, going in this direction, the trip takes on a different complexion after Denver, as the pace quickens to get home, the camps are closing, the days shorter, the nights colder, and the scenery less dramatic. This trip was no exception. We first camped at a convenient KOA in Goodland Kansas, arriving long after dark, and then  on the other side of Kansas the next night at a wonderful place we found on Perry Lake, where we were alone except for the thousands of birds on the lake and the unwelcome sound of gunfire from the hunters' high powered rifles aimed at the hapless animals whose lives have just as much meaning to them as our lives do to us.

After Perry Lake, we rapidly moved west through Missouri and Illinois to get to Lieber State Park in Indiana so I could reignite the memory of the last night that Leben and Erde and I camped out together, last year. I knew my heavy grieving Leben's death was over when I felt only joy there.

I could not pass by Indianapolis without paying a visit to the grave of the immortal James Dean  in Fairmont Indiana, my third visit there.  Most people have no idea of the influence that authentic young man had on our lives, and I am not only talking about those of who knew of him when he was alive. I also stopped at the James Dean Gallery to say hello to the curators-owners-etc. Dave and Lenny, but Dave was not there. But he was not too far from the cemetery and when he saw the Defender drive by, he recognized it, and came to meet me at the grave for a pleasant chat.

With gravity pulling us home, we made it to Buckeye Lake in Ohio after our visit to Fairmont, for what was going to be our last night on the road.  But en route to DC yesterday, I decided to give Erde a break and stay overnight at the absolutely magnificent, pet-friendly Savage River Lodge in Frostburg Maryland.  I have to consider this as a post-trip stay because the accommodations here do not stack up to what we have gotten used to after 55 days and more than 10,000 miles of road-camping.  The truth is, as wonderful as this place is, and a great place to rest up for the final day home and to write this posting, I would rather be on the long road, in a tent, in any weather, with my dogs.

And so, now the trip has ended and Erde and I are home again. Our lives now will most certainly be different because of this trip, but also because the adhesive  that bonded the three of us for 13 years will not be there.  I tried on this trip to forge a new bond with Erde, and I think I succeeded, if her actions around our many campsites this year compared to last year's actions are any indication.  At the risk of anthropomorphizing, I have no doubt that if Leben could have communicated one request before he died, it would have been, please take good care of Erde. That's the kind of dog he was. On this trip, I certainly tried to do that, paying the price, of course, which I gladly paid, and I intend to continue doing that until the day she joins Leben, no matter what price I have to pay. What a sweet dog she is.

During the trip, I am not afraid to admit, there were tears every day, fewer over time, over my loss of Leben, but also vicariously for Erde for  her loss too, which was greater than mine. But one night several weeks ago on the west coast I knew my heavy grieving was getting over when the thought of  Leben popped into my head and instead of tears, I gave off a real firm fist pump and vocalized, "yeah, great dog."  Erde, even yesterday, still sat outside the tent every morning and moaned softly, but her moans, too, in the final days were less. I will understand it, though, if this continues for a long time because I know how great my grief was and is. I found the device of building a fire every few nights, listening to the music I associate with both Leben and Erde very helpful to celebrate the joy that both of them have brought me for 13 years helpful, but Erde doesn't have the luxury of doing that.

As I focused my time and attention on Leben these last few years, I did not see Erde grow old.  On this trip, I suddenly realized I had an old, but still active, beloved dog who is now going to get all the attention she deserves while she is still with me. And i'd be doing this even if Leben didn't request that I do that. And, oh, what a marvelous travel companion she was.

I wish I could think of one word that describes this trip, as well as my sIx others with my dogs. There is no such word, especially since the trip, however wonderful it was,  was spent in large part,  grieving over our loss of Leben.  On the positive side, splendid, wonderful, great, spectacular, magnificent, fine, interesting, exciting, and so forth, are not adequate enough. Maybe it is not a word I am looking for, but an action. And the fact that I have undertaken seven trips might just speak the best action word that can be found. I doubt if anyone has done once what I have done seven times, so maybe there will never be a word to describe these trips.

Of course, the highlight of the trip was being with Erde at a time when we both needed each other.  But after that, the highlight for me was not the road or the campsites, not the the sunrises and sunsets, not the oceans or the mountains, but the people, and their beautiful dogs.  This is why the trip went on for two weeks longer than anticipated.  For Erde, though, the highlight was probably all the dogs she met, more than 50. She probably never thought that there were that many dogs.

During this trip, I met many people who are doing something like my trips, in their own way, yes, even in RVs. I also met many people who for one reason or another would like to do something like this, even in their way, but cannot.  I applaud both.  The people for whom I feel sorry, though, are those who have no desire to do anything like this, even in their own way. Thoreau had some words about them in his book.

Before I started this trip, and on it, I learned of friends' pets that had died, Chance, Cinnamon, Daisy, Fonzie, Kyra, Logan, Osher, Pickles, Scooter, Sidney, Stormy, and Zowey.  Because of the way we "possess" our pets (or do they possess us?), in our grieving their loss, we are alone.  But the grief we each feel when that loss occurs is the same. So on this trip, I felt the same grief as at least a dozen friends, guardians of the above 12 beloved pets. I just hope that the joy I started to feel on this trip is something they also share. And this is why I dedicated this trip and its blog to Leben and these beloved pets. For me, this was not a memorial trip, but one both celebrating the life of Leben with me, and still enjoying the life and companionship of his sister, Erde.

I also dedicated this trip to Pete Seeger, whose music we played every morning on prior trips.  Because he too died this past year, his presence was not felt until the last few days of this trip, when we started to once again to start the days' drive with us This Land Is Your Land. He is no longer with us, but his music is, just as the memories of those we loved who are now gone are still for us to enjoy as if they were here with us.

On these trips, I treat the Defender as a person because it is so essential not only to our enjoyment of these trips, but to our safety, too. It has taken me on all seven of my journeys with my dogs, almost 75,000 miles, over 350 days. (Erde has now spent almost a year of her life in a tent and in the Defender, and enjoyed every moment of it. )  Oh, a few things happened here and there, but they were all usually traceable back to my judgment.  If I had only one word to say about its performance on this trip, it would be, Bravo.  If it were not for the Defender, I would not be taking these trips.  (Why Land Rover is discontinuing the Defender after this year is beyond my understanding.)

I have no idea how this trip, as with the others,  will change my life from here, but it will.  These trips are nothing like buying a plane ticket to some exotic place, hopping on the plane and staying in fancy hotels before flying home. Those trips are wonderful, but for those who have done something like our trips, you know what I mean. They become part of you, not just a memory of a fun time, which these trips most certainly are not, until you get home and talk about them. On this journey I met a few hardy souls who do know what I mean, maybe more so than I.)

I hope to add more reflections, explanations etc. to this blog in the future.  But I said that last year, too, and did nothing but plan a new trip.

In the meantime, thanks for following this trip with us.  I hope this blog did it justice.

Ed, from home.