Seattle Was Lovely, Now Back To The Van

Chapter 141: Bavarian Dreams, Buffalo Mac & Cheese Nightmares

My first solo group tour. Big moment. Also slightly concerning... me, voluntarily getting into a van with strangers? Growth.

I briefly considered renting a car, then remembered two things: I don’t trust myself driving in a new city, and valet parking was $50 a night. Decision made. Tour van it is.

There were seven of us plus Slava, our guide. Sitting in a van that wasn’t Don Don Van felt like cheating at first, but within five minutes I was fully converted... staring out the window, not worrying about traffic, living my best passenger princess life.



As we drove into the Cascades, it was all rivers, pine trees, and aggressively beautiful scenery. The sun was blazing, which was great, but also slightly disappointing. I had mentally prepared for moody, mysterious Sasquatch vibes. Instead, I got “perfect picnic weather.”



We stopped at Mount Index for coffee and photos. Stunning. Also… nothing to do besides take photos and leave. Classic “this is beautiful but now what” stop.



Then came our first red flag of the day: Mac and Cheese Guy.

At Stevens Pass Ski Resort, a clearly-labeled “quick toilet stop,” this man ordered a full hot meal. We all sat in the van. Waiting. Watching. Smelling his buffalo chicken mac and cheese like it was a psychological experiment.

I was starving. He was thriving.

We finally made it to Leavenworth, the Bavarian cosplay town of America. Cute, charming, slightly confusing. A whole town committed to a theme? Respect.



Except it was 80 degrees. I was sweating through my “winter aesthetic.” Nothing says Christmas like sunburn.  I had lunch at Munchen Haus: bratwurst, sauerkraut, to hell with my theme park judgement. Help-yourself sauerkraut is a dangerous concept and I fully abused it.


I wandered, shopped, obsessed over Christmas ornaments I couldn’t buy, and rewarded myself with ice cream from Whistle Punk Ice Cream. There was even an alphorn performance on the street. Not Christmas, but definitely… German-adjacent.

Meanwhile, Mac and Cheese Guy?  Sat on the same bench. For three hours. Doing nothing.  Why come on this tour. WHY.

On the way back, we stopped at Deception Falls for a short hike, and I realized something mildly shocking: I liked this more than the shopping. Who am I becoming?

Final stop: another wait, because guess who ordered food again.

That night, I ordered Taiwanese takeout, thinking Nelson had eaten. He hadn’t.
Luckily, I always over-order. This is my greatest strength.



Chapter 142: Snow, Strangers, and Questionable Decisions

Another early morning, another van of strangers... but this time, better vibes. Everyone showed up early. I trust people like that.



Seattle returned to its natural state: wet, grey, slightly dramatic. Perfect setup for Mount Rainier National Park.  Our guide Tony warned us most areas were closed, but miracle of miracles, the road to Paradise was open. We felt chosen.  The group: a young couple, an older couple, a fellow solo traveler (Alex), and me. Within minutes, the older man mistook me for his wife. Honestly, fair. We all have our blind spots.  They were adorable though. Slightly chaotic, but adorable.

We stopped at Longmire, saw taxidermy animals, learned things, and immediately forgot half of them. Then came the hikes.  Snow. Ice. Slopes.  Where was my sense of balance?  Oh I left it back in 1998.   Tony pulled out micro spikes like a magician. I was thrilled. Everyone else declined… and then immediately turned back to get them.

Amateurs.

At Paradise, Alex and I decided to hike while the others ate. He works in Alaska. Has never seen snow. I didn’t even know that was possible.  (He only lives there during the Cruise season, which is March to October, that's why haha). We bonded over travel, trains, and the fact that we had no idea where the trail was.

Because there was no trail.

Just… snow. A lot of it. Over a meter deep. We wandered around like confident idiots until I suggested we turn back before we became a news story.  On the way down: giant snowman. Photo shoot. Worth it.



Then the older couple went hiking… during a snowstorm… and got lost.

Of course they did.

We picked them up from a completely different parking lot. They were soaked, laughing, and showed us their wet pants like it was a badge of honor 'we kept falling over!'

Dinner that night was at Haidilao. I expected theatrics. Got none. Still amazing.


Chapter 143: Seattle, Shopping, and Eating Like It’s a Sport

The rest of the trip settled into a rhythm: me wandering, Nelson working, and both of us eating like professionals.

One day I went furniture shopping: West Elm, Pottery Barn, Crate and Barrel, and met possibly the most pleasant yet completely useless salesperson in history. Friendly. Polite. Absolutely no intention of helping me buy anything.

Fantasizing about outdoor living... on a rainy day... inside a mall.


Retail is a mystery.

Evenings were for food. Lots of it.
Din Tai Fung: reliable, dangerous, no leftovers.


Then the grand finale at Tendon Kohaku: crispy, rich, and whimsical dessert! Of course.  A wobbly cat-shaped pudding that I got to decorate myself. This is peak adulthood.




Back at the hotel, I appreciated everything: endless hot water, clean towels, space to exist. Vanlife really lowers (or raises?) your standards in the best way.

We packed. Ate more snacks. Pretended we weren’t slightly stressed about flying into severe weather.

Chapter 144: Tornadoes, Trout Plans, and the Meaning of Home

Travel day. Early start. Mild anxiety.

Back in Northwest Arkansas, there were tornado warnings. Great. Love that for us.

Urrrrrrgghhhhhh


Flights were… fine. Suspiciously fine. No mention of weather. No drama. Almost disappointing after all that buildup.

We landed, considered getting a hotel… and then stepped into the van.

Immediate feeling: home.

Decision made. No hotel. Straight to the Ozarks.

We drove to Roaring River State Park under eerily calm skies. Warm air, gentle breeze, people casually hanging out like the weather wasn’t about to do something dramatic.

Campground in full on party mode, I could even see the moon.

It felt like we were being lied to. By the sky. Or the internet. Hard to say.

At 11pm, tornado watch hit.

We sat in the van, watching livestreams of storms forming everywhere else, hearing about hail and destruction… while our campground stayed weirdly peaceful.

It was unsettling. Like waiting for something that might not come.

We finally slept.

Next day: alive. Anniversary.  Celebrated with eggs, toast, and sardines. Romance.


The river looked like chocolate milk, which means no fishing. Honestly, fine. We needed a break.


We cooked, wandered, sat by the water, did nothing important. It felt… right.


After all the movement, the flights, the cities, the snow, the chaos... this was the moment that landed.

Home isn’t New York.
It’s not Seattle.
It’s not even a house yet.

It’s the van. It’s us. It’s wherever we decide to stop.

And sometimes, it’s a campground where nothing happens… and that’s exactly what you need.


 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Goodbye Grid, Hello Bugs

Image
  Chapter 1 — The Movers, the Cheese Balls, and the Road Ahead What a day. Finally, the big day had arrived — and already it felt like a distant memory as I sat down to write this much later. The movers showed up right on time at 7:30 AM and didn’t finish packing and loading until 12:30 PM. Two technicians appeared somewhere in the middle of it all, building special crates for the mirror and the glass top of the dresser. Once the last box was sealed and the last tape gun click faded, Nelson and I went into deep-clean mode — scrubbing, sweeping, and packing the final odds and ends. By the time we rolled out of the apartment, it felt like we’d already done a full day’s work. We drove to Louise and Lewis’ place next, where Friday afternoon traffic was already in full swing. A few more last-minute items got loaded into the van, and Louise handed us cheese balls — an absolute lifesaver since my entire day’s food intake up to that point had been two pieces of chocolate. We pulled out...
Read more

Friends in High (Altitude) Places

Image
Chapter 9: Fiddles, Footwork, and the First Campfire We had a lazy breakfast—eggs sunny side up, smoked salmon, strawberries—before heading to the Blue Ridge Music Center. The Buck Mountaineers were playing, and the energy was infectious: jig-dancing, singing, and quirky little puppets “dancing” across the banjo and guitar strings. I learned that the banjo came from West Africa, inspired by the Akonting. Who knew? The day got even better when Lilian and Cindy arrived from New York. Seeing them set up tent and self-inflated mats felt like welcoming old friends into a little mountain home. At Stony Fork Creek campground, Nelson built his first campfire using dead wood, while Lilian displayed serious bare-handed log-breaking skills. Dinner was steak, baguette, salad, and wine from Round Peak, and Cindy and I finished the night with marshmallows over the fire—pure joy. Chapter 10: Seven Sisters Under a Summer Sun Hiking day! Breakfast was chicken sausages, scrambled eggs, and toast, w...
Read more

Blue Ridge, But Make It Hipster

Image
Chapter 13: Urban Oasis in the Blue Ridge We rolled out of Bear Den Mountain, leaving behind the smell of pine needles, bug spray, and slightly charred marshmallows, and hit Asheville, NC—the city that whispered, “You need caffeine, culture, and maybe a little weirdness in your life.” I was craving urban energy and professionally cooked food. Asheville delivered. Cute downtown streets, funky shops, and just enough hipster vibes to make me feel like I belonged…or like I needed a man with a man bun. We checked in at White Labs Brewery, strictly before 4pm because apparently the beer gods are very punctual. First order of business: pizza. This was not just pizza. This was a pizza that could stage a coup. Delicious, pepperoni-y, life-affirming pizza. After that, a downtown walk led to some unexpected culture: the Thomas Wolfe memorial, an art gallery we couldn’t escape, and Sunshine Sammies ice cream sandwiches—sweet, gooey, and absolutely necessary. Oh, and a victorious sauerkraut find ...
Read more