6 Months in A Motor Home: Zion National Park

Come along as I unfold the story of my RV trip around the United States and Canada.

By Julie Pendray

Thanks for following this travelogue of my trip around the United States and Canada. See North America through the eyes of a young “Kiwi” New Zealander traveling with her American husband in 1989. These brief recollections are from my journals and the postcards I mailed to family. They aren’t meant to be a definitive chronicle or advice on how to do such a trip. Instead, they create a snapshot of life on the road, discovering this wonderful country and what it was like sharing a small space for so long and how the trip was life changing. I hope my story inspires you to research the destinations and go on your own adventure.

To pick up the thread, you can read my introduction about how we decided to set off on this adventure in our 30s, by clicking here. Then read about what we packed before leaving San Diego, by clicking here.

April 1989
Las Vegas

From my journal:

“As we drove northeast today we saw a double rainbow ahead of us over the highway. It looked like the letter M, an unusual sight. It seemed like a promise of a wonderful trip. We agree that we want to have fun, relax and not have expectations or pressures on this journey.”

Now on to …

The postcard I sent to my family in New Zealand in 1989.

Zion National Park, Utah

“The air has been so dry since we left Las Vegas. The weather has been great. Utah has a lot of mineral mining — uranium, manganese, copper and more. I’ve also noticed steeples on top of churches everywhere in Utah. We’re doing a lot of day hikes here at Zion in the southwest corner of Utah. The red sandstone reminds me of the Aussie soil. It’s made from hardened sand dunes, exposed after millions of years by wind and water — Utah used to include ocean. At Zion, we hiked some of the Narrows to Hidden Meadows Trail. In some sections we waded in shallow water. We decided not to go further because we knew it would get wetter as we went upstream.

The Narrows at Zion National Park.

“We met a nice middle-aged couple from Indiana and invited them back for a visit in our motor home. I baked scones in our tiny oven and it felt so homey. What a good way to start our trip. I’m looking forward to meeting lots of people like this and having them visit our cozy home on wheels.”

Here’s what I wrote home from Zion National Park.

I wrote “home” to my family in New Zealand:  

“Last night, I baked prune scones for us and a couple we met on a hike. The guy has been to New Zealand to work at Greenlane Hospital with Sir Barratt-Boyes. He was a surgeon from Indiana and he’d heard of scones but never tasted them, so he got a kick out of it.”

To be continued. The next part will be about entering beautiful Colorado.

###

A little aside.
Here’s my mother’s scone recipe.

“Mum” was a farmer’s daughter of Scottish descent. Her recipe is a simple everyday variety. It’s a good place to start, then you can experiment and add grated vegetables or fruit if you like, and adjust the recipe accordingly. My favorite versions are date or apricot scones or vegetable ones that include carrots or zucchini. My mother’s mantra when folding in the milk and water was “Keep it light, so they rise.”

Handle the scone mixture lightly so it rises well.

Ingredients:
8 oz self-rising flour, a pinch of salt,
2 oz sugar, 1 1/2 oz butter, 3 oz milk and water,
dried fruit, grated vegetables or sharp cheese if you like. Otherwise, make them plain and serve them with raspberry preserves and possibly Devonshire cream, also known as clotted cream.

Sift the flour, add salt and sugar, add grated butter and rub it into the mixture. Make a well in the center of the mix and pour in the milk/water combination, a few splashes at a time. Don’t let the mixture get too wet or dry. Dust a cutting board with flour and gently place the dough on it, so it doesn’t stick. Mould it gently into a square that is about 1 1/2 inches high, then cut into small squares. Place them close together on a floured baking tray and bake at 450 – 500 degrees Fahrenheit or roughly 230 – 260 degrees Celsius for 10 – 12 minutes. Don’t let them go very brown on the top and they are not supposed to be crisp around the edge. They should be soft and only light brown. To test whether they are done, lightly press one on the top and if it bounces back, it’s ready!

When you remove them from the oven, take them from the baking tray with a cake slice and put them in a paper bag or “tea towel” to let them steam. It will keep them soft and moist until you’re ready for them. Eat them warm with butter and preserves or instead of butter add the cream (unless you’ve made the vegetable variety). Eat them the day you make them, or add an egg to the recipe to make them last longer. Mum’s scones were eaten quickly in our household so it didn’t matter either way!

 

© Copyright to Julie Pendray and SpecialsNotOnTheMenu.com

 

 

6 Months in a Motor Home – San Diego Northward

Me with our Toyota New Horizon mini motor home, 1989.

By Julie Pendray

This is the second installment in my story of my 6-month motor home trip around North America in 1989.

You may recall that we embarked on the adventure in our early 30s, my former husband and I. We were young enough to mountain climb, camp in bear country, snow ski, water ski, snorkel, hike and fish our way through the 26,000-mile adventure.

U. S. Supreme Court.

Scenic parks and misty lakes weren’t our only destinations. We walked the corridors of the U.S. Supreme Court, several state capitol buildings, Thomas Jefferson’s home, Monticello , the New York Commodities Exchange, museums and art galleries. We “crabbed” in the bayous with the Cajuns, tried our hand at two-stepping and speaking their version of French (we were useless at both) and soaked up Civil War history talking to Southerners. We went wine tasting and souvenir hunting and we savored the local specialties, visiting an alligator farm for dinner supplies and letting the butter drip down our chins as we ate Maine lobster. Alligator tastes like … well … more on that later.

Me enjoying Maine lobster with garlic butter. Photo: Julie Pendray

We were two curious people on a journey that changed us forever. Re-reading my journals lately has been tenderizing. Some of that is about the vital days of young marriage, with all its fun and new experiences. The rest is nostalgia about the great sights of North America. There’s nothing like seeing places for the first time.

I set out on the journey with the idea of publishing stories at the end. However, I didn’t feel confident enough at that age, with such a short time in this country, as an ex-pat “Kiwi,” to put it all in proper perspective. I got busy with work and family.

Now, I can write with a greater understanding of the United States and with the maturity to value even more what turned out to be the greatest education I have had. It seems like a perfect time not only in my life but also in the life of this country, for an account of some of the great beauty, diversity and history here and the value it holds for all of us.

To make this series useful for anyone planning a trip, I may flesh out some parts with updated details of locations.

To pick up the thread, I invite you to read the introduction to this story by clicking here.

Now, let’s get on with ….

What We Packed

I deferred to my American-born mate on this subject because he knew the terrain we’d visit. We packed and unpacked, packed and re-packed until we achieved a balance. He is a master of traveling light and using space wisely. I am less so. Neither of us is particularly tidy. We wanted the trip to be fun, so we needed our play things. Yet, we didn’t want to be cramped by them. Also, we had to consider the possibility of objects banging around as we drove along or flying through the living space if they accidentally came out of overhead cupboards. One final thought: we had to leave space for souvenirs we might collect along the way.

Looking back, it was an amusing assortment of objects that ventured with us out of our driveway. We carted them all across North America and never regretted what we’d taken or left behind. Anything can be purchased on the road or sent home.

My husband decided there was sports equipment we could rent along the way, such as snow skis. But a water ski might not be easy to find if we saw an inviting lake. The ski we took carried each of us serenely across Lake Powell on the Utah/Arizona border, where we rented a boat. We also used it on mini lakes in Maine and Canada.

The climbing gear also made it on the “to go” list. An inspiring boulder might appear across our path, we thought, and my husband could grab his rope and have at it. How could we have known that as we entered Grand Teton National Park we’d see a course advertised that would lead to his ascent of Grand Teton that week.

We added our leather hiking boots, hooded jackets, thick socks, bathing suits, shorts, jeans, T-shirts, backpacks, camping gear and a few tools for any necessary “shadetree” mechanical maintenance. We snuggled his 35mm Minolta camera with the zoom and macro attachments into a cozy spot. This was a well-worn assembly that had endured  bumps and scratches on his motorcycle journey around New Zealand in 1979. We’d met in Queenstown in the South Island. Photography was one of our common interests. On the trip, the camera sat behind the driver’s seat, on the carpet, so we could quickly grab it should a photo op appear.

Six months later, we returned from this trip with fairly close-up shots of moose, elk, bison, mountain goats, a black bear, trout and deer, plus pictures of us grinning from ear to ear at Niagara Falls and Lake Louise, Canada. Still etched in our minds, without the photos, are the eagles and the ground hog, and although we didn’t see the builder, we saw a huge beaver dam in the Rockies. Only if you are from a tiny nation such as New Zealand can you appreciate the delight and wonder that these wildlife engendered for me. Though I no longer possess the photos (I have the journals, he kept the visuals), I’ll never forget the imagery or the moments.

One odd addition to our belongings became part of an interesting story on our return. I decided to pack two table tennis paddles. We never played with them on the trip but to this day I’m grateful I took them because they may have saved our hides. I’ll leave you to wonder how we used them. The answer will unfold in a few weeks.

A top priority in our luggage was a cluster of Automobile Association of America (AAA) guide books and maps, acquired at the Auto Club of Southern California. These were supremely helpful and well organized. They also provided fascinating history.

I also found nooks and crannies to store my journals and a few books, including Mark Twain’s “Life on the Mississippi.” I often tell people I was reading Twain’s book as we crossed the Texas/Louisiana border. His details so enriched my understanding when I saw that mighty waterway, that I stood in awe. I highly recommend taking books like this with you. I also took my watercolor painting supplies and a sketch pad. Obviously I thought I was going to have more time on my hands than was the case!

My hand-written cookbook made it into a kitchen cupboard.  I remember this because I made scones for a couple of hikers one night with my mother’s recipe from my childhood.

Also included was a small tape recorder, so I could interview people for travel stories. Time didn’t permit much of this and I found it was nicer to relax instead. However, I may still have my interview with Cajun Jack. I did it at his wife’s restaurant in Patterson, Louisiana after taking his tour of the Atchafalaya Swamp. He was a “real character.” A perfect interview. I also packed writing materials so I could send mail home to family in New Zealand.

Since our space was limited, there was no “yours” or “mine.” All our gear was interwoven, as were our lives. There was almost zero privacy in this environment. It didn’t matter. When you go on an adventure like this, you learn aspects about yourself and each other. You rub the rough edges off each other. You must function as a team. We are very different but as we traveled, each day brought so much fun and adventure that we made it through the challenges.

The following journal accounts are brief and impressionistic. We usually hit the sack early and “dog tired” each night after driving hundreds of miles or hiking, cooking dinner and doing dishes. Sometimes several days would go by before I had time to write, hitting the highlights. Some aspects aren’t for worldwide distribution on the Internet but they may appear in book form.

Now, imagine you are with us and live in the moment as we go.

Journal 1: Las Vegas to Ottawa Canada

April 1989
Leaving Las Vegas

We ventured northeast out of California to Las Vegas, then onward. Auto Club of Southern California map.

From my journal: We drove north today, with windshield wipers flapping. Up ahead, as the showers subsided, we saw a double rainbow over the highway that looked like a big “M.” I’d never seen such a thing. It seemed like a promise of a wonderful trip to come.

We agree that we want to have fun, relax and not have expectations or pressures on this journey.

To be continued …

 

 

© Copyright to Julie Pendray. No permission is given for re-publication.

 

 

6 Months Motor Home Trip Around United States & Canada

Me with our Toyota New Horizon mini motor home, 1989.

By Julie Pendray

One evening, years ago, my young husband proposed a grand adventure. We would rent out our home, put a friend in charge of the business, buy a small RV and go on a trip around the United States and Canada!

Wow!

We were in our early 30s.

I’d been in the United States about eight years from my native New Zealand and was still wet behind the ears as far as this huge continent was concerned. I knew more about sheep than the Rockies or New York subways.

That was in 1989. I’d just finished my University of Auckland degree through the University of California, San Diego. I had a window of time before I had to commit to a new job. My husband decided it was a perfect time to set off on this trip of a lifetime that he’d secretly planned.

“I want to do it now while I can still hike and ski and rock climb,” he said. “I don’t want to wait ’til I’m in my 60s like other people do. You never know what life could bring.”

His family did a lot of cross-country summer road trips when he was a child. We were about to relive some of the experiences.

So while my spouse generated a list of destinations, I gathered maps and guide books at the Auto Club of Southern California. At night, we’d spread these on the floor and he’d outline a route joining the dots to his favorite national parks. As he came up with the physical adventures in out-of-way places, I decided on some more metropolitan and literary ones. I wanted to see Key West where Ernest Hemingway had lived. And what Kiwi would turn down a chance to see The Big Apple?

We decided to set off in spring to get across the South before the worst heat. Then we’d go up the East Coast in early summer, into Canada and across that vast country before snow season really hit. We’d have plenty of time to get back to San Diego by the end of September.

Within weeks, we’d bought a  used Toyota New Horizon mini motor home. We packed and unpacked its 21 feet of space, trying every nook and cranny and discussing what we could take and what had to stay behind. We agreed we could rent snow skis anywhere, for example, but we took one slalom water ski.

Inside our cozy little home on wheels there was a bed that made up from a sofa, a dining table, a fridge, counter space, cupboards, an oven and a shower and toilet with a skylight. The living space was easily accessible from the front seats. The RV was small enough to maneuver in tight areas and I  didn’t feel intimidated taking the wheel.

Now we were ready!

Yet, the call to the open road involved temporarily letting go significant attachments. It was a bit daunting. I had been stunned at the idea of the trip and had to put my biological clock on hold — not without disappointment — but I agreed to delay starting a family until our return. Now, we are no longer a couple but we are both very happy to have the blessings of both of life’s great adventures — travel and parenting!

As for friends and family, some were worried about us being out of touch for so long. I think some were concerned we’d never come back. Others cautioned us about potentially dangerous scenarios with strangers in foreign parts and other “what ifs?”

But we had only a positive outlook. We dreamed of fresh air, time to ourselves and the excitement of turning a new bend in the highway every day.

People who knew us well, and themselves even better, wondered how we’d get along in a small space for 6 months. They said they’d never be able to do it with their spouses. Yet, we took it in stride. We’d had as many ups and downs as anyone else. But, after all, we’d met in the South Island of New Zealand on vacation in a lakeside town. We both loved photography, wildlife and the great outdoors. This was right up our alley way.

And … I knew I had books tucked into tiny cubby holes in the motor home. I’d be fine.

Our next-door neighbor responded with a bag of paperbacks. Among them was “Life on the Mississippi” by Mark Twain, which remains one of my favorites of all time.

The big day of departure from San Diego became an almost tearful farewell from young nieces and nephews who knew we’d miss birthdays. We hugged, waved goodbye and headed toward our first stop, Las Vegas, before heading to Zion National Park.

Over the summer, our big adventure also took us to Lake Powell, the Rockies, Smoky Mountains, Dinosaur National Monument, the bayous and swamps, Bourbon Street and antebellum mansions of Louisiana, as well as the Space Centers, Epcot Center, Key West, Washington D.C., New York city, Niagara Falls, Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park, Grand Teton, Yellowstone, Mt. Rushmore, Maine, Quebec, Banff, Vancouver, Victoria Island, Whistler ski resort, Mt. St. Helens, Olympic Peninsula, the Oregon coastline and back to our home in San Diego.

By the time we returned happy, suntanned, unshaven and relaxed, we’d put 26,000 miles on that motor home. It was with lifelong memories in our hearts that we let it go to the next adventurers.

Being on the road that long isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but an extended road trip is refreshing for many relationships — it was for ours. We didn’t want to come home!

Along the way, I kept a journal, which I still have. It includes wildflowers I gathered along the road sides, identified and pressed. It holds the entry passes to various parks, along with a few of my quick sketches and descriptions of stunning scenery, wildlife encounters, discussions with interesting people, history lessons and exotic experiences for this Kiwi.

Please join me in upcoming weeks, as I retell this tale from those writings on the road 26 years ago, seeing North America through the wide eyes of a young New Zealand-American.

This account is offered with gratitude to the people of the United States and Canada for their warmth and friendship and to one American in particular who took me places I never dreamed I’d go.

With heartfelt thanks.

Julie

Copyright Julie Pendray. No permission is granted for reprinting.

A Kiwi American’s Travels

An Aboriginal dance group in Kuranda Rainforest, Queensland, Australia. Photo: Julie Pendray, 1994.

By Julie Pendray

IDYLLWILD, CA. — As we enter the holidays, I have some stories of my own to tell and a new section to launch on this web site.

I’ve been going through boxes of my old photographs and reading my journals dating back 35 years. Whenever I do this, I’m reminded to be grateful for a life that has been rich with travel and adventure.

Over the years, I’ve been inspired to take trips because of my family and the culture of my native New Zealand. When you’re raised in a tiny nation at the “ends of the earth” (or ENZ of the Earth as we call it ) you tend to want to go somewhere, perhaps like “The Hobbit.”

Often the prospect of interesting employment takes us over the ocean. However, the wanderlust is also because we meet so many visitors from all over the world in such a small land mass that it makes us want to jump on a plane and go see their countries, taste their food and hear their languages. It helps us put our little islands into perspective.

Aboriginal didgeridoo player and dancer. Kuranda Rainforest, Queensland, Australia. Photo: Julie Pendray, 1994.

When I was young, my brother worked as a pilot in the Northern Territory of Australia, then later in Papua New Guinea, and he had fascinating stories about roo-bars and crocodiles. His letters used to arrive in our Auckland mailbox still smudged with the red dust of the Aussie Outback. We were intrigued.

My sisters worked in Switzerland and Canada, sending me pressed alpine flowers or writing about people skating to work along the Rideau Canal.

Inspired by all this, I developed my own travel dreams. Studying French in school and Hemingway in my adult years made me want to blend in with the bohemian artists and sidewalk cafes of Paris some day. (That is yet to come.)

In my early 20s, when I’d already done my U.E. (University Entrance exam), I felt it was time for my O.E. (overseas experience). As I finished my college courses, I  casually pondered the idea of a brief stint in Australia joining a girlfriend who was flinging fleece for the shearers on a sheep station. It seemed like an  earthy break from academia and she was getting really fit from doing such hard work.

At the same time, I considered a trip to visit a Kiwi scientist friend who’d moved to Monterey, California.

Such choices!

Then came summer and a hitch hiking trip with a girlfriend to the beautiful lakeside village of  Queenstown, beneath the Remarkable mountains in the South Island. By then, I was a reporter for Radio New Zealand.

On a hike to a New Zealand glacier.

One night, while taking in the jazz, I serendipitously encountered a dark blond, blue-eyed American, who was motorcycling, camping and photographing his way through the country. I liked to photograph too and I’d had my own motorcycle. We were both down-to-earth. He gave great hugs and used funny American expressions. I made him laugh. Most of all, I liked the way he talked about his closeness to his family.

To cut a long story short, seven months later, at age 22, I found myself alone on a plane going to a country I’d never visited to marry a man I barely knew! We tied the knot in San Diego a few months later. I never made it to the Aussie sheep station but we did visit my college friend in Monterey.

What a huge adjustment! I felt like a fish out of water for several years. Trips to New Zealand and Australia kept me grounded.

Meeting kangaroos in Queensland, Australia, 1994.

Learning to slalom ski on the Colorado River in the 1980s.

Though I’d done a bit of hiking in New Zealand and learned the rudiments of snow skiing and water skiing, I was more of a book worm.

But even a couch potato can be pried off the couch.

I credit my husband for enticing me, over 18 years, to go beyond my comfort zone to go rappelling and mountain climbing and camping in bear country. We even spent six months exploring North America in a motor home in our early 30s — a trip of a lifetime. My university degree pales in comparison to the education that provided.

Mt. Whitney summit in the 1980s.

I’ll admit sometimes I had to be prodded into the next uphill hike that led “nowhere” except for a view. I wasn’t so excited about the hours-long, twisting, 30-mile bike rides. I didn’t do the parasailing with him, I balked at bungy jumping (though, of the two of us, I came closest) and I can’t dive because of my ears. In New Zealand, in my teens, I was talked out of jumping out of a plane by a girlfriend who thought it was too dangerous. But I have a brother who did it.

Even on high altitude trips in California, I still usually had a book in my back pack, which was mind boggling for a man for whom every square millimeter of packing space mattered!

Yes, I married someone with energy to burn and it was good for me to go places and do things I never would have done on my own initiative. We saw stunning scenery and had heartwarming wildlife encounters. Sometimes we’d hit the ski slopes, driving through the night to Mammoth or Lake Tahoe. That’s how we celebrated anniversaries and birthdays.

In recent years, I’ve moved and traveled on my own or in a group on work assignments. It has been my joy as a journalist to relate my experiences so readers can enjoy the trips vicariously. As a friend told me, “You’re doing what a lot of us want to do but we don’t have the courage or ability to take off.”

Sonoma Valley vineyard in autumn. Photo: Julie Pendray.

Travel comes with sacrifice. We have to be thrifty. It also flies in the face of a settled “normal” life. My life hasn’t been a linear path. But the rewards and relationships run deep. I’ve left a part of my heart in every town in which I’ve lived and I’ve taken a part of the town’s heart with me. I’m grateful to still be in touch with so many people via the Internet.

My travels have taken me all over the United States, Canada, Baja California and the South Pacific. I’ve snorkeled in the Florida Keys, fished in Wyoming, gone whitewater rafting in New Zealand and floated in an inner tube in the muddy waters of the Papua New Guinea highlands. I’ve enjoyed a glass of wine while lying on a coral beach with the water lapping on my legs in a lagoon in the Cook Islands. I’ve stalked moose and elk in the Rockies, crabbed in the Louisiana bayous, soaked up Civil War history in the Southern United States and heard the eerie cry of a loon on a foggy Canadian lake. I’ve visited caves, state capitols, film festivals, museums and galleries.

Along the way, I’ve made quick notes and sketches in journals. Some of these books still contain the wildflowers I grabbed at the roadside and pressed immaculately between the pages. I’ve taken good care of them as precious parts of my life, tucked away. I always meant to write the stories and share them. Now is the time.

Today, I’m launching my travel section on SpecialsNotOnTheMenu.com . It will be a reminiscent journey, with updates to make the information relevant. Look for stories about new adventures too, as time and resources permit.

Now, I hope you are encouraged to enjoy your own travels while you are young or not so young. Seize the day.

As James Madison, former United States president, wrote to a friend, “Let me recommend the best medicine in the world: a long journey, at a mild Season, thro’ a pleasant Country, in easy stages.”(James Madison to Horatio Gates, 23 February, 1794, National Archives.)

Happy trails my friends.

Copyright to Julie Pendray and SpecialsNotOnTheMenu.com