Reaching another deadline

After our first major roadside repair job of 2026, we didn’t want to take huge risks driving far from a parts store. I still had a bad feeling another seal needed replacing, which would’ve meant completely redoing what I’d just finished. Miller Bar came to the rescue—an overnight spot not far from town that offered us our first river-crossing opportunity for some real solitude.

The plan was one night. We had a flowing stream right outside our doors and complete solitude, and both of those things were seducing us. So we stayed three nights without much debate. It’s what we’d been looking for further up the highway anyway—here it was right now. My body was still wrecked from the day of work, so downtime was necessary. Kerri was catching up on work tasks. We were both on projects. Sitting still, getting things done, relaxing when we weren’t driving—that was good for both of us. On the second day we even got out for a quick swim. It was hotter than the first and third day, good timing to wash away the stink and dirt we collect at a rapid pace.

Three days in one spot meant we needed to make bigger hops ahead. Leaving Miller Bar, we planned to drive the entire day and rack up miles. Three hours of driving was slated. Six is what it took. No surprise—that’s just how our travels go. On the plus side; no leaks were found from the recent repairs!

By early afternoon we were climbing a mountain dirt road to a spot Kerri had marked on her map. Most of the way up the 1,200-foot climb, I went to shift Marcel into 4WD and the shifter went loose. There we were, stuck in 4WD as the linkage to the transfer case had popped off. A short distance later we found a level spot and I got underneath to pop the lever back into place. No harm done—just a quick moment of fright in what is normally hours of monotony. We eventually pulled into an okay spot, well away from anyone else who might work their way up there. We set up camp and immediately started discussing breaking camp to try roads deeper into the forest. This spot was okay, but okay just doesn’t cut it. So we broke camp and rolled on.

It didn’t take long before we were a few hundred feet higher, turning into a small path that dead-ended a couple hundred yards in. Not amazing, but better than the first. Cool breeze, an almost-view of the ocean off in the distance. Surrounded by living trees, dead trees, berry bushes, and one really upset bird (we’d invaded his space), we spent a couple more days just getting work done and relaxing offline.

We were within four hours of our immediate destination—one that came with a deadline—so we weren’t in huge rush. We still had nearly a week to get there. We drove half the distance forward, then turned away. Kerri, once again, had marked a dirt road worth exploring just after crossing into Washington State. It took us an hour off our route, but we’d still be within a day’s drive no matter what.

That dirt road turned out to be packed with other campers. All the spots were taken. We found one empty and good, but chose to explore a couple miles deeper instead. Those were busts, so we turned back and found our spot now occupied. Ugh. We were about to keep exploring when we came upon a steep dirt road leading to the river below. It wasn’t a good parking spot, but Marcel is girthy enough to drive directly onto the rocky river bank and snuggle between the bushes and river on flat ground.

One more time, we sat in a single location—riverside—for three days, getting work done and relaxing in the evenings. Peaceful, mostly, but for the occasional person scouting the road for a camp spot themselves. Our fault really. We were nestled against the bushes, off the road proper, so Marcel wasn’t visible until you reached the very bottom. No worries though. We took the minor interruptions in stride, took no offense—public land and all.

Finally, just a few days before our deadline to reach my family’s place in Puyallup, Washington, we crawled Marcel back up the dirt road (I thought that would be much more of a challenge than it turned out to be) and pointed toward family. We left late in the day, dropped into town for fast food (Carl’s Jr for me, sushi for Kerri), then got to the first rest area on the interstate just as the sun set. We woke—ironically, after a damn good night’s sleep—and drove the remaining 90 minutes to my family’s property before noon.

We had a few days (we’d arrived early) to prep Marcel for a full month of abandonment. Our next adventure was a day’s airplane ride away: Europe. A few nights in Scotland for a concert. Three weeks in Ireland for a house-and-pet-sitting gig. A night or two in London. Then back to Marcel. This trip was conceived almost immediately after we decided to leave Meriwether in New Zealand for another year. If not sailing, then why not go do something else we wanted to do? So we are going to.