MOXIE MOM on Life & Kids
Stehekin
Every summer, my husband has been saying for years now we need to work in a trip to Stehekin. I always associated the tiny community with hiking over Cascade Pass. A little place at the north end of Lake Chelan that is the ends of the Earth, whether approached by hiking over a pass or taking a 4-hour boat ride.
Well, it’s true, you have to hike or take a long boat ride (or the Express boat, a two and a half hour ride, or you can fly in on a float plane in 25 minutes, I learned). Whichever way you get there, and I do recommend the longer boat ride at least one way, it’s worth it. I’m in love with Stehekin.
Kind of funny to me because I grew up on Lummi Island, remote enough when you’re 12 and you can’t drive, and you’re surrounded by water, and the only entertainment is the fun you cook up yourself. I fled as soon as I could (and then rebounded back to the Northwest as so many of us do).
But maybe that’s why Stehekin felt kind of like home.
Stehekin is a not a town, per se, but a valley with one road about a dozen miles long and few spurs and a population of 85. It’s also one of the gateways to the North Cascades National Park. The only cars there are those brought in by barge. Visitors 
can bring bikes, rent bikes, walk, or take the shuttle bus up and down the valley for a small fee. The pedestrian-only access forces you to slow down. Your cell phone doesn’t have coverage so you might as well turn it off, and you won’t be able to check email. As cliche as it sounds, you do feel like you’re taking a step back in time.
Instead of checking email, you’ll visit the most excellent North Cascades Visitor Center at Stehekin Landing, where the boats come in, which feels like town central but in reality is only a small part of Stehekin. You’ll ride your bike to the Stehekin Pastry Company for breakfast, lunch, or snacks in between, just a couple miles up from the Landing. You might even run into one of your neighbors from home — we did.
You’ll stop by the old Stehekin school and marvel that it was closed as recently as 1988 (to make way for the new, larger school just down the road) because it feels so 1910-ish.You’ll hike the short trail to Rainbow Falls and be as impressed as you are with Snoqualmie Falls, if you’ve been there.
You’ll ride your bike up-valley and notice the blue quality of the Stehekin River, and you’ll be charmed by Stehekin Valley Ranch, where you can rent cabins. You might make reservations to have dinner even if you’re not staying there. We did, and it was excellent — a family-style dinner served in a dining room with a sawdust floor, broad beams, and a fireplace that holds tall coffeepots of cowboy coffee.
You might buy veggies from the organic garden near the bakery because the general store carries only soda pop, a few cans of soup, and lots of T-shirts (and hauling food for several days from Chelan is kind of a pain).
If you stay at the lodge at Stehekin Landing, you’ll notice that every day brings a flurry of daytrippers between 11am and 2pm, when the boats arrive and then take off. The visitors hit the Landing, rent bikes, ride around, and then are gone as quickly as they arrived. It’s the main action of the day and kind of fun. And then Stehekin is suddenly quiet, and you’ll remember you came to get away from it all.
Stehekin is a fascinating blend of national park service employees, backpackers hiking in from the other side, tourists from down-lake, and locals eking out a living in a remote location that cuts them off from just about everything and suits them just fine.
Summer is beautiful — we hit the sunny weather just right — but you can visit year-round, albeit on a more limited boat schedule. I’m guessing the fall colors are spectacular.
Note: the park offers camping, but if you’re looking for a family of four or more, I would talk to rangers in advance. We camped and found the sites to be abysmally small for a family-sized tent.
leave a comment!
Biking at Whistler
For our Memorial Day escape, we headed north to Whistler Village, a locale I’ve never visited because we’re not really into posh winter ski scenes. That said, I’ve always wanted to see what Whistler is about, and late spring, it turns out, is a great time to visit because it’s the shoulder season. Accommodation rates are low and available (we got our room for $78 on Priceline). After we got home, I learned about the accommodation deals you can get right on the Whistler website. A travel writer buddy tells me you can get deep discounts here. We’ll try that next time.
Whistler Village is indeed the scene I expected (although I couldn’t quite picture it): a 
family-friendly, Euro-style getaway with great pedestrian-only streets and bricked squares for easy wandering. We decided it’s Leavenworth meets Disneyland with a dash of Switzerland and a smidge of Amsterdam (we actually caught a whiff). It’s fun — even Dad, who prefers the backcountry, enjoyed himself.
Leah, for her part, decided she needs to go back with friends — all she could think about was how fun it would be to ski and shop with buddies (you’ll encounter a shop for every high-level outdoor brand there is, along with all other kinds of shopping).
Mountain biking is the thing this time of year. You can take out a second mortgage to put your family and their bikes on the chairlifts for some screamin’ rides down the ski runs, OR you can bike for free on the many trails that start right from the village (much more our style). The trails are beautiful (within minutes you forget you’re anywhere near the village), and they feature single track options, from easy to difficult, that radiate off the main graveled and paved paths. Truly, there’s something for everyone.
The highlight? We saw three bears on the Sea to Sky Highway, two on the way north, and one on the way home.
We’ve already decided we’re going back.
Winter Vacation
Every year our family travels to Manning Park Resort for a weekend of skiing and snowplay. I wrote up a post for Cascadia Kids, a travel website for Cascadia families — if you’re unfamiliar with the term, that’s families who live in the Northwest and B.C. Lower Mainland.
Anyway, you can catch up at Cascadia Kids on why we love Manning. In fact, Cascadia Kids offers all kinds of ideas for nearby places to travel. Troll around it for ideas on where to go for spring break.
leave a comment!First Solo Flight
We put Leah on a plane to Portland the other day for her first solo flight. We thought it would be no big deal: flying out of little ol’ Bellingham, 55-minute flight, relatives to meet her at the other end. But from the perspective of a 13-year-old (and her mother), getting out of Bellingham was no easy task.
In short, the airport was a madhouse.
The ticketing area was jammed with passengers and uncertain lines. No one knew where to go, and everyone boarding the San Diego flight was running late. They were stressed and unhappy, and we kept overhearing grumbling about lack of signage, bad organization, and long lines. The ticket agents began calling Seattle passengers forward ahead of the rest of us (apparently they were running even later than San Diego folks).
“If you’re flying to Seattle, you need to check in now or you’re going to miss your flight,” the agents announced. Passengers hustled forward, panic in their eyes, as the rest of us stepped aside.
In addition to the chaos of the ticketing area, we weren’t sure we would be allowed to accompany Leah to the boarding lounge, which is really just a glorified portable. We hadn’t paid the accompaniment fee (optional once kids are 13), and I had been told on the phone the decision for parents to accompany kids was up to the ticket agent, dependant on whether the airport was crowded. Thankfully, the ticket agent said, “Of course,” despite the madhouse (precisely when you need your parents).
We got checked in with half an hour to spare. Plenty of time for security.
Right. Another epic queue. The San Diego flyers were even further behind and more stressed, and they had taken to cutting in front. For my part, I had forgotten about small toiletry sizes for carry-on luggage. When we got to the conveyer belt, the security official squawked unhappily as Leah’s suitcase went through the x-ray. He yanked it off the belt and flung it open to reveal loose toiletries—no clear plastic bags—and he promptly confiscated the Costco-sized tube of toothpaste (really, Leah?) and a brand-new bottle of sunscreen. Crap.
Disgruntled and impatient, he growled at us about the 3.4-ounce rule and flung the toothpaste and sunscreen into a bin behind him.
“Um, can I just take those home with me?” I said. “I’m not boarding a plane.” Ever the cheapskate, I couldn’t imagine letting that $10 sunscreen go to waste.
“I would have to escort you to the door right now, Ma’am. Do you want to be escorted?” Clearly, he did not want to escort anyone anywhere.
Uh, no, never mind.
Leah’s suitcase had to be x-rayed again, not a quick endeavor with the massive shuffle of bags and people. We had to step off to one side to wait as her suitcase sat in the queue behind all the others. Her toiletries were put in a tray to be x-rayed separately, and she could barely contain her panic.
“When will I get my suitcase?” she kept asking. She is a child who hates being late, and today, suddenly, being late mattered. For my part, I was feeling bad I hadn’t gone through her toiletries. Normally, when we fly as a family, we check our bags, and I’m not sure I ever knew the 3.4-ounce rule. (“I don’t even bother with toiletries these days,” a friend later told me. “I just hit the nearest the Rite-Aid after we arrive.”)
Eventually, Leah’s suitcase reappeared, and she was allowed to repack her travel-sized shampoo and conditioner. She would have to use her cousin’s toothpaste and buy new sunscreen.
Rushing to the boarding portable, we learned her flight was delayed an hour. After all that. Curt decided he would head home. “Call me when you’re ready to be picked up,” he told me.
Then we and all the other Portland passengers had to relocate to another portable next door, just opened that day—for the mass of passengers, apparently, that this tiny airport is not ready to handle.
Then it was announced that all large carry-ons would have to be put on a luggage cart outside the plane because the carry-ons were too big to fit in the cabinets above the seats. So much for the furor about tiny toiletries. I couldn’t help thinking wistfully about that sunscreen. Although, yes, I could have doctored them in the boarding lounge.
“What does that mean?” Leah wanted to know. “What does the cart look like?”
For an adult, these kinds of changes are no big deal. We know to listen for the announcements and the flight numbers, and we ask boarding personnel if we don’t understand. But for a 13-year-old who doesn’t want to look foolish, it’s all new. Through the window, I showed her the luggage cart sitting outside the plane, explaining she would also have to pick up her suitcase planeside in Portland. “Don’t be afraid to ask questions,” I said. “If you don’t know, ask, ask, ask.”
At last, the passengers were called by seat row, and Leah got in line. I watched her go through the door and out onto the tarmac. I watched her approach the employee standing beside the luggage cart. He was turned away from approaching passengers as he gabbed to another employee. Leah stopped and waited. And waited. He kept talking (come on, dude). I wondered if she would put her suitcase on the cart herself or if she would wait. She walked around in front of him and planted herself—good girl—so he had to notice her. He took her suitcase, and she boarded the plane.
I waited, watching through the window, to see her suitcase put on the plane (I wasn’t assuming anything at this point). At last, the boarding steps were wheeled away, the door was sealed, and the plane revved its engine. I watched the plane taxi, turn, and take off at last.
“Is this place always this crazy?” I asked the boarding agent fiddling at the boarding pass counter. Aside from a stranded passenger, we were the only people in the portable.
He laughed. “Lately, this place is chaos.”
Huh. And this town wants to run with the big dog airports? Okay, I admit, we did our bit to contribute to the chaos. The 3.4 rule is etched in my brain. (And I do appreciate that we can fly from Bellingham, really, I do).
We also know now to arrive a full two hours before take-off.
2 comments