OUR TRY AT VANLIFE

Over the past few years, I’ve been increasingly drawn to the idea of living on four wheels. The nomadic lifestyle seems to be ideal – a promise of  freedom gained through a minimalist approach to life. Clashing tales of awe and woe paint a contrasting picture of the realities of vanlife. “I could do it,” I reassured myself. “I’m a relatively simple human. Who needs stuff anyways…” 

Essentialism and adventure are common themes interwoven in the outdoorsman’s narrative. What better way to test my ability to forgo creature comforts – apart from a full-blown cowboy camping stint – than to try my hand at vanlife. 

As the warmth of summer flowed into a balmy October in the Pacific Northwest, I was frantically jotting down jam-packed itineraries. Ideas for climbing, biking, and running adventures flooded my mind, as did remote locations tucked deep in the Cascades. 

As the dates approached it became more apparent that the mild weather was coming to an abrupt end. Rain and snow creeped into the mountain forecasts, forcing me into a brief panic as I saw my carefully laid out plans get swept away.

I still had a van. It was autumn in Washington. Something would have to work. After scrolling through the weather in various cities and regions throughout the state, we settled on the area near Leavenworth, nestled in the central Cascades.

My friends and I picked up “Burt”, an aesthetic 1987 VW Westfalia, from PacWesty’s headquarters on Bainbridge Island on a gloomy Friday morning. The waves thrashed against the side of the ferry as it sped off across the sound towards Seattle. Connor ate his “ferry” burger and we sat across from each other watching the weather rage from the dry side of the glass. 

If I had to sum up a common theme throughout our summer shenanigans, it would be “hurry up”. No matter what we did, we seemed to be in a perpetual state of running behind schedule. The chaos of summer had taken a toll. 

There is something to be said about long days spent frolicking in mountainous playgrounds. The shoulder season forces the adventurer to get creative – to find new ways to keep the mind and body busy. 

We parked the van beside a young larch tree in the south campground of Lake Wenatchee State Park. We cooked some dinner, drank some wine, and played a couple games. 

Our goal was to capture Fall in Washington. To us this had initially meant hunting for larches and climbing peaks under the soft autumn sun…

For the time being, the lone larch and sipping coffee while gazing out at the drizzling rain would do just fine.  For restless souls such as ours, this was minimalism at its finest and we spent a fine weekend enjoying the sights of Washington in the tight quarters of a small, but cozy caravan called “Burt”. 

Bailey Range Traverse

Washington’s Bailey Range Traverse is a 60 mile loop with over 25k feet of vertical gain, offering plenty of opportunities for a “choose-your-own-adventure” excursion. The route tests your skills in both patience and backcountry travel and presents a rugged wilderness experience for those who want to spend a few days truly off the beaten path. Washington is home to an abundance of high-routes and alpine traverses; the Bailey Range is one not to be missed. 

With roots in Washington, my sister and I were excited to return home to the mountains that raised us. 

We have backgrounds in trail and ultra running, and when I planned the logistics of the trip in early January a four-day itinerary seemed low-key and relaxed. However, upon arriving in Seattle in mid-July, the thought of any amount of days on my feet left me feeling worried and wary. A mild bout of COVID I had contracted in mid-May had progressed into physically-debilitating post-COVID symptoms. By the end of June I struggled to get out of bed, let alone run a mile.

Long story short, I was not in peak-shape, and, as the departure day approached, my anxiety surrounding my physical condition was at an all-time high. Things had been improving however, and the team and I were confident that I could safely take on the Traverse. “I’ll take it one day at a time. I can always turn around if need be”, I reassured myself.

So the journey began, and with a later-than-planned start at the Sol Duc Trailhead we set off. The start of the route proved tame as it meandered along the valley floor, parallel to the Sol Duc river, before it climbed up the North side of the High Divide. The low-key nature of the first few miles allowed our group to appreciate the temperate old growth rainforests unique to the Olympic coastline. After stopping to refill water at Heart Lake we said goodbye to maintained trails and headed off to find some of that Type-2 fun we had all been craving. 

The Northern Bailey Range can be summed up in one word: sidehilling. Before heading off on this trip we were sidehilling rookies. By the end of the traverse, we had enough sidehilling to last a lifetime. What exactly  is sidehilling, you might be asking? Well if you ask Bailey Range, sidehilling is a form of travel that consists of bushwhacking the side of a 40+ degree slope while searching for a sign of a trodden path across steep ravines and loose gullies. Fun. Yup, that’s the word I was looking for. 

Though the terrain proved tedious, we were able to capture our first glimpses of the journey in advance. The valley fell away below steep ridgelines and an array of glaciated peaks towered above in the distance. The vista conjured feelings of both intimidation and anticipation for the miles ahead. The only way was forward. 

Over the next couple of days we frequently found ourselves off the “established” route. On one particularly memorable day we bushwhacked up and down the same 45 degree slope for 6 hours before we decided to rappel down the initial ravine we had scouted out earlier in the afternoon (this was not our finest hour). At the bottom, we were greeted with a chilly river crossing and some more bushwhacking straight through an alder garden to the toe of Humes glacier. With the homestretch sprawled before us we were looking forward to some straightforward glacier travel. 

The rest of the trip was glorious and the terrain felt expansive and grand as we traversed glacial passes towards the Blue Glacier below Mount Olympus. Crevasses were starting to open up and it was impossible to peel our eyes away from the dark blue abysses beneath the ice. These moments will not be forgotten; they served as necessary reminders of the amazing opportunity we had to explore this terrain. 

As we picked our way through the fields of crevasses and marveled at the streams running underneath the translucent blue ice, I was humbled by the impermanence of the ground beneath me and tried to appreciate the last couple miles of off-trail travel while they lasted. After crossing the Blue Glacier we reached the lateral moraine – the common entry point for those climbing Mount Olympus – and descended into the Hoh Rainforest. A cozy night on the gravel-bar by the Olympus Guard station marked our final night of the trip. 

The following morning as we headed back up the High Divide to our cars, I heard my other companions wailing “SLOW DOWN!”. I smiled to myself and charged on. The trail had done its job, and I thanked the Bailey Range and its obstacles for whipping my butt back into shape. 

I often find myself feeling down after trips like this one. However, as I write this reflection I am surprised by the lack of the post-adventure blues on this go-around. Though I am unable to put a finger on the culprit, it could very well be that the Kingdom of Hoh took its hold.

For those curious as to what was in our bags, I wanted to mention some MVPs in our gear list. The ultimate goal was to pack for light and fast travel, but we placed the most emphasis on packing gear and products that would enable us to endure any obstacles we might encounter. 

• Lighting - Ledlenser has become our go-to source for all of our lighting needs. We were thoroughly impressed with the headlamps’ wide range of illumination and long-lasting battery capabilities.

Headlamp Models Used: HR19 Signature, MH7, MH5

• Gels/ Electrolytes - Long days on the trail left us searching for high quality nutrition and hydration systems. UnTapped uses pure Vermont maple syrup to offer long lasting energy. We appreciated the simple nature of their products. No GI issues whatsoever! 

Our favorites: UnTapped waffles (any and every flavor), UnTapped salted raspberry and coffee gels, and the Ginger MapleAid hydration mix

• Traction – Kahtoola offers top-of-the line traction that is both lightweight and easy to use. We appreciated the durability and sleek design of the LEVAgaiter Mid GTX gaiter and the KTS hiking crampons, which felt secure and were running shoe-compatible!

• Food/Snacks – Aside from one hot meal a day, we devoured MunkPack’s keto granola and nut and seed bars at an alarming rate. Not only do they taste amazing, but we were grateful to be able to balance out our diets on the trip. The Coconut Almond Dark Chocolate nut and seed bar tastes like it came straight out of a box of Samoa Girl Scout cookies …

• Sleeping system and clothing - Long days bushwhacking and route finding left us absolutely exhausted. When it came down to sleeping, Feathered Friends’ Hummingbird 20 Sleeping Bags were lightweight and perfect for summer nights in the backcountry. I was surprised to find myself getting such quality sleep on this trip. In addition to their sleeping bags, Feathered Friends’ Eos Down Jackets proved perfect for summer nights in the alpine. The jackets are both lightweight and compact, and will undoubtedly accompany us on many adventures to come.

A Perfect Hideout

What constitutes the perfect hideout? Though remoteness of location is an obvious factor, it seems the best hideouts are largely defined by technicality of terrain. After a couple hours on a rough dirt road, we arrived at the brim of an extensive network of canyons – sprawling for miles across the barren desert in Central Utah. 

We found ourselves deep in the red-rock playground lying within Robber’s Roost. We would be tracing the footsteps of the notorious outlaw, Butch Cassidy and his “Wild Bunch Gang”. However, instead of seeking refuge from the law, we were seeking an opportunity to adventure through one of the most beautiful canyons in the region. 

Upon arriving, we began to scout out our starting point for the next day’s canyoneering excursion and set up camp nearby. Because we were within BLM land boundaries, no reservations were needed for camping and we were able to snag a perfect spot just a stone’s throw away from the trailhead. 

The High Spur canyon drains east to south into the Green River, and offers adventurers like us the chance to experience some of the most photogenic slot canyons in the area. The route we would be taking involved some nontechnical sections, followed by a couple of rappels into the canyon’s basin. In addition to the essentials – rope, harness and related canyoneering gear – a selection of products enhanced the quality of our trip. A couple MVPs in the gear roster included Chum’s Downriver Rolltop Backpack and Adjustable Retainers. While there was no water flowing in the canyon during our trip in early May, the stormproof backpack and retainers proved invaluable in protecting and securing our gear as we maneuvered through the narrow sandstone walls. 

After a warm night spent underneath the desert sky we hit the trail early. A short path branching out from Deadman’s Trail road led us to a quick scramble down into the canyon. The first couple miles, though nontechnical, proved an absolute blast. Every corner offered a new opportunity to revel in the novel beauty of the territory. As we descended deeper into the canyon, the sandstone walls became steeper and created a narrow passageway lit by slots of light sourced from openings between the rock a couple hundred feet above. This portion of the canyon is commonly compared to the carved walls in Arizona’s iconic Antelope Canyon. As we weaved through the canyon we found ourselves immersed in our environment, filled with awe and wonder as the rising sun cast beams of light down towards the canyon floor. 

A couple miles into the journey, the slot canyons began to widen and we neared the technical portion of the route. After gearing up, we rappelled down the first section. At the bottom, we took a short 20 minute walk to get to our final rappel. The excitement built as we approached the cavernous opening of what would be a fun 85 ft rappel with a memorable overhanging section. This was truly a gem of a hideout. The opportunity to safely navigate this stunning terrain was a valuable reminder of our privileges. We are privileged to have the knowledge of rope skills, the necessary gear, and the time to explore remote hideouts in the wilderness.

With the heat of the day upon us, we made the trek up and out of the canyon and returned to our car. We wrapped up our desert adventure for the day with a long, rocky road back to civilization.