Campfire

Each night, as the flames crackled and the smoke drifted into the darkening sky, the camp host, Sonny, and his beautiful dog Zilla would wander over and settle in by our fire. Zilla immediately launched into play mode, chasing Whiskey—Ben and Sherma’s dog—around the trees while Sonny stood quietly, sipping his nightly beer. For all three nights at Devil’s Elbow Campground, this became our familiar routine.

With a group of retired educators gathered around a fire, you can imagine the questions that came Sonny’s way. His answers were short and efficient—never too much, never too little—just enough to satisfy the curious minds in our circle. We learned he was originally from Thailand, that his parents had come to the United States on “the Golden Ticket,” and that they’d built a life for him and his siblings. He was 48 years old, though he looked much younger, and he planned to host at Devil’s Elbow for one more season before taking time to explore Asia and Europe.

While we peppered Sonny with questions, Zilla and Whiskey crashed through the brush, taking turns marking every tree and bush they could find. Zilla, a huge mixed breed—part Bernese Mountain Dog and part mystery—was clearly the dominant one, despite being female. Whiskey did his best to keep up, but by the end of each evening both dogs were worn out.

On our final night, Sonny and Zilla appeared as usual, but this time they came bearing gifts: bumper stickers commemorating our stay at Devil’s Elbow. A small gesture, but one that made the place feel even more special.

With Terry and Bill joining Sherma and Ben in camp, we had quite the artistic group. Bill and Sherma played guitar and ukulele in the afternoon sun, and our three lovely wives used their talents to create rock art for everyone to enjoy. We all took time to read, relax, and mostly sit around the fire chatting. Simple days, easy company, and a campground that gave us exactly what we needed.

As the fire settled into glowing coals and the river quieted for the night, I found myself thinking about how easily a simple campground can become a small community. Three nights isn’t long, yet it was enough for familiar faces, shared routines, and the easy comfort that comes when people fall into a rhythm together. Sonny with his quiet presence, Zilla and Whiskey with their nightly chaos, the music drifting from Bill and Sherma’s instruments, and the rock art our wives created in the afternoon sun — all of it blended into a trip that felt both peaceful and full.

Devil’s Elbow wasn’t a place of grand adventures or dramatic stories. It was a place where the days slowed down, the conversations stretched out, and the evenings gathered us around a fire that seemed to burn just a little brighter because of the company. As we packed up the last morning, I felt grateful for the small moments — the laughter, the dogs, the music, and the unexpected friendships that made our stay feel like more than just another stop along the river.

DB/AI

15 Years

A huge part of our lives has been shaped by our love of venturing out in the truck camper. Over the years I’ve written more than 350 blog posts about our home away from home and all the adventures that come with it. Every trip feels like a small reset, a chance to breathe a little deeper and enjoy the outdoors.

Back in 2011, I wrote about one of our favorite hidden campgrounds on Bell Bay overlooking Lake Coeur d’Alene. We visited that spot many times and got to know the camp host, Jim Vallintine, quite well. Jim was one of those rare hosts who made camping easier — he’d let us call ahead to see if any good sites were open. Knowing we had a spot waiting for us made the drive down a lot less stressful.

That all changed about 15 years ago when the campground switched to a reservations‑only system. Jim wasn’t interested in taking on the extra responsibilities, so he retired, and with the new system came a lot more traffic. Without Jim and without the ease of dropping in, we slowly drifted away from Bell Bay and started exploring other places.

Fast forward to our latest trip. Rayelle and Mike Anderson had reserved two nights at Bell Bay and invited us to join them if we could find a site. We checked online, found an opening for the same two nights, and just like that, another adventure was on the calendar.

In the days leading up to the trip, we prepped the camper and gathered supplies. On Friday morning, we loaded up and hit the road. We took I‑90 to the Rose Lake exit, turned right, and headed toward Harrison. Bell Bay Campground sits 7.2 miles north of this town along the lake.

When we arrived, we drove to our reserved site. It wasn’t the nicest spot, so we slowly cruised through the rest of the campground. As we passed our old favorite site, Linda noticed it was available for both nights. That was all the encouragement we needed. We headed straight to the camp host’s site, explained the situation, and were able to switch to the best site in the campground. Even better — the Andersons were camped just across from us.

It felt like a lucky score, and we wasted no time getting settled in.

Rayelle and Mike arrived around 5 PM, and while they went about setting up, Linda and I grabbed our chairs and took in the panoramic view from our site. It has to be one of the best views we’ve ever had — wide open lake, quiet shoreline, and soft evening light. Once both camps were settled, we gathered out on the point and enjoyed drinks and snacks as we caught up on the past few weeks.

The next morning we wandered through the campground to see how things had changed. Even though we hadn’t been there in 15 years, it was almost exactly the same. Bell Bay is still a rural campground — pit toilets, downed trees, and a general low‑maintenance feel. The restrooms were clean, and the trash was emptied regularly, but beyond that it could use a little TLC. Still, the simplicity is part of its charm.

Later that morning my Watch Duty forest fire app sent an alert. A small fire had popped up about ten miles upwind from Bell Bay. Within a couple of hours, four firefighting seaplanes began making runs, scooping water from the lake and flying right over our site to drop it on the fire. It was an impressive response — ten rr eleven passes in total — and then the skies quieted down. A short while later, the app announced that the fire was contained.

As we were sitting out chatting afterward, we had a surprise. Larry and Mary Wright, who have a lake cabin just down the road from the campground, came strolling by our site. They were with a couple, Bill and Kim, who we had met back in our running days. We all stood around for a while, catching up on each other's lives. It was a nice, unexpected reunion and added a little extra warmth to the day.

The weather, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as warm. It was windy and noticeably colder than the past few weeks — the kind of chill that makes you realize fall has quietly arrived. The breeze kept at it, but we were still able to sit out and enjoy our visit.

Sunday morning came quickly, and we all packed up and headed for home. As we drove back over 4th of July Pass, Linda and I agreed that the site we ended up in was absolutely worth the drive — one of the best views we’ve ever had. And as always, Rayelle and Mike were fun to be with, making the whole trip feel easy and familiar.

It was good to be back at Bell Bay after all these years. Some places just stay part of your story.

DB/AI

Reminiscing with Friends

After our hot visit up the Coeur d’Alene River, Linda and I were going through our usual routine of cleaning up the camper when a text popped up out of the blue from our friends Dave and Connie McKenzie. Connie wanted to know if we’d be around the upcoming Sunday and Monday — and if we’d like to join them for an overnight stay in a cabin along the St. Joe. They were heading up with some friends we hadn’t seen in years: Jim Clift and Clair Jessie. Also joining the group were Tami Haft and Bob Grigg.

This is where the family tree starts sprouting branches. Clair worked with Connie, Tami, and me at NIC. Linda and I also know Clair and Jim through river running, and we’ve been on many trips together over the years. I know Bob from my Hashing days with IEH3. Dave was a student at NIC and worked for me in Rec Sports. Crazy, right? And the tree keeps growing. Clair and Jim were renting the cabin from Mike Ferman (not in attendance), a rafting friend of theirs. Linda and I have been on many trips with Mike too — we even attended his wedding and know the whole Furman clan.

So that’s how this whole group, connected by work, rivers, rafting, hashing, and a few decades of shared stories, came together for a visit to catch up on everyone’s lives.

We drove up the St. Joe River to Calder, then took the first right upriver and wound our way along dusty roads until we came upon a big red truck parked off to the side. That was our landmark. We took a right at the truck and entered the Furman Ranch. A short drive down a hill brought us to a beautiful cabin set off and above the river — tucked just far enough away to feel private, but close enough to hear the steady rush of the St. Joe below.

Jim prepared the ribs while Connie and Clair gathered the bounty of goodies everyone had contributed. Before long the counters were covered with snacks, dips, cheeses, and all the little treats that seem to magically appear whenever this group gets together. We talked and laughed as we nibbled on hors d’oeuvres, washing everything down with a myriad of beverages. It was one of those easy, comfortable times where conversation rolls from one story to the next without anyone noticing the hours passing.

Dinner was fantastic — everyone dug into the ribs and all the sides — and after we finished eating, we drifted out onto the porch. From there we watched the sun slide down behind the hills and listened to the river below. The evening settled in around us as we shared adventures, old memories, and the kind of stories that only come out when friends haven’t seen each other in far too long.

The next morning we woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of the river. Jim fired up breakfast, and before long we were all gathered around a spread of pancakes, eggs, bacon, fruit, and more coffee than any of us probably needed. The stories picked up right where they left off the night before — river trips, NIC memories, hashing adventures, and all the little twists life has taken since we last saw each other.

Eventually, though, it was time to clean up and head out. Dishes were washed, bags were packed, and we said our goodbyes, promising not to let so many years pass before the next visit.

As we drove back down the dusty road toward Calder, Linda and I agreed that the overnight had been exactly what we didn’t know we needed — a reminder of how friendships, even when stretched across time and distance, can snap right back into place the moment you sit down together. The St. Joe has always been a river full of memories for us, and now it holds one more

Devils Elbow Birthday

Over the many years Linda and I have been together, we’ve tried to celebrate her July 24th birthday with a river float or some other little adventure. This year we took the camper and headed up the Coeur d’Alene River to Devils Elbow Campground, where we met up with our good friends Mike and Rayelle Anderson.

We’d made our site reservations four months earlier, and as the date got closer, our group kept growing. Rayelle found out that her sister and brother‑in‑law, Rhonda and Kevin, already had a site reserved for the same weekend. Then her brother and sister‑in‑law, Ron and Sharon, decided to join in at their campsite. Finally, the crew was rounded out by Rayelle’s niece Malina and her husband Darby.

In the end, everything worked out perfectly, and we were able to gather everyone at one site each evening for conversation, laughter, and the kind of easy storytelling that comes naturally around a campfire.

Our days were spent sitting in the shade or cooling off down in the river. Meals were excellent, and Mike treated everyone to one of his famous breakfasts — the kind that somehow tastes even better when you’re camping.

I managed to sneak in one day of fishing, but the heat had the trout in full “not today” mode. They ignored every fly I offered them, and I couldn’t blame them.

We spent four days and three nights relaxing out of the worst of the heat, surrounded by friends and the steady rhythm of the river. It was a simple trip, but a good one — exactly the kind of birthday weekend Linda loves.

Linda spotted this owl on one of her walks.

DB/AI

A Few Days at Huckleberry Campground

A couple months ago, Linda reached out to our friends Bill and Terri Burch, along with Ben and Sherma Higgs, and we all jumped onto the reservation website for Huckleberry Campground up the St. Joe River. Luck was on our side — we managed to snag campsites close to each other, and we wasted no time reserving them before anyone else could beat us to it.

The drive down was perfectly normal until we hit the stretch from the top of 4th of July Pass down to the Rose Lake turnoff. Road construction had funneled four lanes of traffic into two, and to make things interesting, they used those big cement dividers to separate the lanes. Nothing like a narrow concrete chute to keep you alert. I white‑knuckled the truck through the curves and traffic. Not the most relaxing drive, but we made it.

Huckleberry Campground wasn’t full, and we had a great site just across the driveway from the Burches. Ben and Sherma were a little farther away in their spot. I was able to go fishing twice during our stay. The first day the water was high but clear, and I fished a Green Drake fly with a #10 black stonefly dropper. I got lucky and hooked two really nice cutthroats and one kamikaze cut that was about six inches long. We arrived and ended the trip with a fish count of three real nice cutthroats and two little shakers.

Linda spent her time walking, reading, and catching up with our friends. After a couple days of rain, the weather finally turned around, and we all entertained ourselves with card games and tossing the cornhole bags. Simple fun, good company, and a quiet campground — hard to beat.

As the weekend wound down, I found myself appreciating the simple rhythm of it all — good friends, a quiet river, a few fish, and the kind of easy days that remind you why the St. Joe keeps pulling us back. Nothing fancy, nothing rushed, just time well spent in a place that always feels a little like home.

DB/AI

A Few Days at Beavercreek Campground

Our last visit to Beavercreek Campground on Priest Lake was back in August of 2022. That trip was spent with our good friends the Andersons, soaking in the views of the lake and wandering the trails around the campground. This week we found ourselves back in that same peaceful spot, only this time we were joined by our friends John and Loretta Sutherland.

Looking northeast into the Selkirks.

The weather showed off for us — blue skies, warm sun, and just enough breeze to keep the mosquitoes guessing. We stayed three nights, settling into that easy rhythm that only camping seems to create. Evenings were spent in camp chairs, swapping stories, solving the world’s problems, and laughing about everything else we couldn’t solve.

Each morning Linda would head out for her daily walk and return with a new story or observation from her adventures — sometimes about wildlife, sometimes about people, and occasionally about something only Linda could spot in the woods. I took a long walk myself, following the lake trail south. I managed to get close to a lake‑access camp area in Teacher Bay. That bay was my goal, but I had been out for quite a while, and eventually I turned around and hustled back to our campsite before anyone sent out a search party.

There were hundreds of butterflies.

We spent most of our time relaxing or playing cards. One thing we did notice was the large number of trees that had blown down during winter. It must have been a harsh one, but the landscape has been recovering nicely, with new growth already filling in the gaps.

For our evening meals we enjoyed three very tasty delights. On the first night we had an easy‑to‑fix standby of soup (clam chowder), salad, and cookies. The second meal was a bit international — Greek gyros. We cooked up some lamb, added feta cheese, tzatziki, and lettuce, and wrapped it all in a warm pita. Simple, delicious, and perfect for camping. Our final meal was traditional barbecue hamburgers, but boy, were they good.

On the drive home we were treated to one of those moments that instantly upgrades a trip: a bull moose sighting. We were heading south along one of my favorite stretches of highway when something dark stepped out of the brush and into a wide green clearing. Sure enough — a bull moose, antlers still covered in velvet and looking like he owned the place.

I slowed the camper and found a wide spot to pull over. After putting the truck in park, I hopped out and walked to the back of the rig just in time to see him step onto the road and stroll across the asphalt like he had an appointment on the other side. We were probably 500 yards away, but there was no mistaking that silhouette. I managed to get a few photos with the phone — proof for anyone who thinks moose are just mythical creatures invented by the Idaho tourism board.

There’s something about spotting wildlife in the middle of a trip that adds a little spark to the day. It’s a reminder that these places are alive, and that sometimes the best moments are the ones you don’t plan.

As we rolled the rest of the way home, I found myself thinking about how lucky we are to have places like Priest Lake close by — places where a few days of simple living, good friends, and a surprise moose can reset the soul. Trips don’t have to be long or complicated to be memorable. Sometimes all it takes is a quiet campground, a few shared meals, and the beauty of Idaho doing what it does best.

Big cone, small cone.

Peeling hard boiled eggs.

Bull moose crossing!

The end of the camping adventure.

DB/AI

Victoria, BC — Four Days of Views, Wandering, and Mild Confusion

Last year, our 40th anniversary was interrupted by my back surgery, so when our 41st year together arrived, we celebrated by taking the trip to Victoria, BC that we were unable to make earlier.

It was another early‑morning flight out of Spokane, our destination Victoria, British Columbia, by way of Seattle. The flights were as normal as you could hope for at that hour — uneventful, slightly uncomfortable, and fueled mostly by determination and airport coffee.

When we landed, we grabbed a cab to the Victoria Regent Waterfront Hotel and Suites. Our suite was on the 3rd floor and looked out over the harbor. There was something happening all the time, so it was hard not to get transfixed on the view. We barely set our bags down before heading out in search of food.

This is the view from our patio. WOW!

We crossed the bike lane, dodged traffic, and found a great spot called The Local. After that, we decided to pick up groceries for breakfasts and snacks. This is where things got interesting.

Harbor activity. We could watch for hours!

With Google Maps open and no reading glasses between us, Linda somehow ended up leading the expedition — surprising, since she has absolutely no sense of direction. I followed behind, squinting at the blurry map like it was an eye exam. Undaunted by our lack of equipment or navigational skill, we eventually stumbled upon a market. We grabbed seven items, paid far too much for them, and headed back feeling victorious.

By late afternoon, we were fading fast. We’d been up since 3 a.m. We walked to the nearest Subway, bought a 12‑inch sandwich and two cookies, and called it dinner. As soon as the sun went down, so did we.

The next morning’s breakfast was simple — cereal, bananas, yogurt, and coffee — before meeting our tour bus to Butchart Gardens. We climbed aboard the bus, and our driver immediately launched into a wonderful introduction to the history of Victoria. As she drove, she pointed out parks, houses, statues, and the stories behind them. She was entertaining, knowledgeable, and made the ride a rolling history lesson. By the time we arrived, we knew far more about Victoria — and the Butchart family — than we expected. She was wonderful.

We enjoyed every inch of the gardens and took far too many photos of flowers. After a couple of hours of wandering, we filled the remaining time with a snack break. I was in charge of buying a pastry and my coffee, but instead I returned with a coffee, a chocolate chip cookie for Linda, and a scone I thought was a muffin.

Meanwhile, Linda went to get change, but the girl at the counter said she couldn’t make change from the till. However, she could make change if Linda bought a pastry. So Linda bought a apricot pastry, got her change, and then the girl informed her she could also get change at the information booth.

We laughed at how unnecessarily complicated the whole thing was and enjoyed our treats before heading back to the bus.

When we weren’t out exploring the city, we spent time on our balcony or inside our suite watching the harbor. Seaplanes came and went, water taxis zipped around, sailboats docked, and yachts cruised by. Mixed in were kayaks, canoes, and just about every floating thing you can imagine. It was endlessly entertaining — like our own waterfront theater.

Butchart Gardens in Spring bloom.

Our next day was filled with more exploring. We purchased tickets for the Hop On–Hop Off bus and boarded around 10:30 a.m. The idea behind the HO‑HO bus is simple: buy your tickets ($65 American), get on or off at any stop, see the sights, and continue whenever you’re ready. The pass is good for 24 hours from your first hop‑on.

The drivers played pre‑programmed history tidbits throughout the tour, but they weren’t nearly as interesting as the stories we heard on the gardens tour. We also found that many of the places we stopped cost extra admission, adding to the cost of the tour.

After riding the full loop, we decided to strike out on our own. We walked to the Chinatown district and wandered through the shops. Our exploration took us through Fan Tan Alley and eventually led us to a small restaurant where we shared a lunch.

Much of our time we spent walking, shopping, and enjoying goodies. The people watching was excellent and the weather was simply amazing. Everything Linda had planned came off without a hitch. Air flights, taxis, Uber trips, everything. The ultimate adventure for our 40th anniversary in our 41st year.

Hop-On Hop-Off bus tour.

Entry to Fan Tan Alley.

Adventures await in the Alley.

Grand entrance to Chinatown.

Our lunch stop, Fan Tan Cafe. So good!

Coffee and treats at Murchie's.

Great Thai Chicken pizza.

This looked like a water taxi hatch. So busy.

DB/AI