Update
If you’re wondering why I haven’t been blogging lately, it’s because I have been super busy since my debut novel, The Memory of Cotton, was published at the end of May. I’m thrilled to announce that in addition to 5-star recommendations from Indies Today and Readers’ Favorite, it also was a finalist in the American Fiction Awards in the Family Saga category! Wowee!
And if you happen to be in the Philadelphia, PA or Lynchburg, VA areas, I’ve got some book events coming up…
October 12, 2022 at Booked, Philadelphia: Author Event: Ann K. Howley
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So what’s been happening with the Paddy Wagon? Well, a few months ago, the Paddy Wagon made a trip out to Montana WITHOUT ME.
Yep, Pat and some of his former colleagues got together for a fly fishing trip, and I WASN’T INVITED. His photos were beautiful, though, and Pat promised that we will someday make that trip together.
However, Pat and I recently explored a little closer to home to experiment with boondocking, aka “wild camping,” or “camping in the middle of nowhere with no one and nothing around you but trees, mosquitoes, and quite possibly, bears.”
The whole point of boondocking is to be totally self-sufficient and live off-grid-ish for as long or as short as you want. Experienced boondockers know that you are allowed to camp anywhere on National Forest or Bureau of Land Management land, unless there is a sign that specifically states “no camping.” But since we wanted to see the Pennsylvania Grand Canyon (not to be confused with THE Grand Canyon in Arizona) we discovered it was a little more complicated to metaphorically park our butts in the middle of state forest land.
At least for now it is free to wild camp in Pennsylvania’s Tioga State Forest, but campers are required to get a permit ahead of time. The hard part is choosing a specific wild camping “site” when you’ve never been there before. I’m going to paraphrase the conversation I had with the Forest Service employee.
“I would like to reserve 2 nights near Four Mile Vista.”
“What site do you want?”
“I don’t know? What’s close to Four Mile Vista?”
“I don’t know. You have to choose a site.”
“How?”
“Look at the map.”
“???????”
In the background, Pat was consulting his iOverlander app and getting coordinates recommended by other vancampers, so eventually I was able to communicate with this no-nonsense government employee and she approved us for two nights at a site named Mountain Stream II, (not to be confused with Mountain Stream I, which was apparently already booked.)
“You have to use the coordinates to get to Mountain Stream II,” she told me. “You won’t be able to find it otherwise.”
An apt warning.
We printed our permit, plugged the coordinates into the GPS and hit the road, arriving in the vicinity of our “site” at dusk, where the GPS directed us to drive for several miles down a narrow dirt road. We had just driven through a torrential storm, so we knew the rain was coming our way. The forest was thick, dark and gloomy, and when the GPA announced we had “arrived” at our site, we looked around, puzzled, because we couldn’t figure out where we were supposed to camp. So we kept driving and a quarter of a mile down the road, we pulled off and parked just off an abandoned logging road. Within minutes, darkness fell, the clouds burst, and rain pelted the van, so even if we weren’t in our designated site, this is where we were going to stay.
In the morning, I made coffee while Pat took Maya for a walk and ventured back down the dirt road and figured out where we were supposed to be – a small, flat plot of ground that was overgrown with grass and weeds. We remembered that spot, spent the day at Colton Point State Park, hiking from the rim of the gorgeous Pennsylvania Grand Canyon to the river and back, and spent our second night at the “real” Mountain Streams II site, as far as we could tell.
We did not need to make reservations for the next night because we intended to visit Kinzua Bridge State Park and hike around the bridge, which was destroyed by a tornado in 2003. According to iOverlander, primitive campsites are first come, first serve in the Allegheny State Forest, where we were heading. Again, our GPS took us down another remote dirt road next to a pretty little creek, where we counted at least 10 numbered campsites, all empty except for #5, where we parked for the night and stayed inside the van to escape the mosquitoes.
The next day, we decided to attempt our first international border crossing in the Paddy Wagon. After stopping on Goat Island to see Niagara Falls from the U.S. side, we got in line on the Rainbow Bridge to cross into Canada.
Here’s what you need to know about crossing the Canadian border in a vehicle with a dog. Everyone MUST download the ArriveCAN app and upload passport and vaccination cards within 72 hours of crossing. EVERYONE. If you do not do this, expect to be seriously delayed because border agents will have to do it for you and you will make enemies of everyone in the vehicles behind you.
Because we had such spotty Internet access, it took a long time to create ArriveCAN accounts for Pat and I and upload our documents. But I was more concerned about crossing the border with Maya and made sure we had her rabies certificate on hand before we left home. We had also made sure we didn’t have more than the allowed volume of alcohol in the van, because Canadian regulations were very specific about how much wine and beer you could bring into the country. However, when it was our turn, the Border Agent only asked 3 questions:
“Do you have any firearms?”
“How long will you be here?”
And, eyeing Maya warily, he asked, “Is that a nice dog?”
Patting her head and squishing her soft ears, I assured him that she was very nice.
“That’s all that matters,” he said, letting us through.
Truthfully, Maya barks like mad at baristas when I pull up to the drive-thru window at Starbucks, so I’m not sure why Maya just gave the Canadian Border Agent her happy, relaxed, Pitty smile, but I’m glad she is smart enough to know when to pour on the charm. Good girl, Googley!
We spent the night in a huge gravel parking lot across the street from Ipperwash Beach. As a bonus, leashed dogs ARE allowed on the beach, so we took a refreshing dip in Lake Huron, watched the sunset, and settled down for a comfortable night. The only unsettling thing was that, although there were no signs that said “no camping,” there were multiple signs warning drivers to remove and lock all valuables, and the broken glass on the ground indicated to me that the signs were no joke.
We had no trouble, though, and crossed back into the U.S. at Port Huron the next morning.
We spent the next night at a Harvest Host venue, Montrose Orchards, where we went blueberry picking and shopped in the farm store, picking up a package of pancake mix and blackberry syrup for a delicious breakfast in the morning.
We spent the next few days visiting our family, which included camping in my stepdaughter’s lovely back yard, and having lunch with our 1-year-old granddaughter, which is ALWAYS my favorite part of any trip.
Until next time!
One Comment
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Nice post!