Moominmama's Adventures

  In which Moominmama returns to the road in 2023, running away from winter, but not without winter giving chase... Travel fever propelled Moominmama from home after the first week in February, with the goal of spending spring in the deserts of Arizona. With park reservations made six months in advance, there was pressure to hit the road regardless of what was blowing in New Hampshire. And blowing it was, with the temperature exactly 1° on departure, with a frighening wind chill. I reclaimed the Moominhouse in Tennessee, returning to a camping spot near Chattanooga to drain the pipes of antifreeze, rinse the water tank and make the trailer inhabitable again. Clusters of daffodils and shirtsleeve weather made it seem like winter was far away. After a day to clean and restock, Moominmama headed west, aiming for Oklahoma City to visit the youngest Moomin and stay at Lake Thunderbird State Park in Norman. It was in Oklahoma City where I stopped at the First Americans Museum, which open...

  In which Moominmama learns to measure elevation in the Smoky Mountains by the smell of the trees... Hiking in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Moominmama knew she'd reached 6,000 feet of elevation whenever the woods started to smell like Christmas. That's because these mountains are home to the Fraser fir. The popular and fragrant Christmas tree is mostly grown on tree farms these days, but the Smokies are one of its rare natural habitats -- but only above a certain height.  Clingmans Dome is the highest peak in the Smokies with a viewing tower at the top, overlooking a large stand of towering Fraser fir and providing 360-degree views of the ridge that divides Tennessee and North Carolina. To get there involves a long, winding road off Newfound Gap Road and then a short, steep hike up a paved path, because, of course, this is a big tourist spot. But there were other places where reaching the height to smell those trees required some serious leg work.  One of Moo...

  Wherein Moominmama heads south for some hiking in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park and gets to see some unusual bridges... The route south to the Great Smoky Mountains crossed through West Virginia and when signs appeared warning me of a closure for "Bridge Day" on Oct. 15, it suddenly dawned on me that I was approaching the New River Gorge Bridge. One day of the year in the fall, the bridge closes to vehicular traffic and opens to pedestrians -- and to base jumpers. This has been going on for years and was stuck in my memory because my ex-husband had come to the bridge to base jump many years ago. I'd seen video, and we had a lovely photo of his parachute against the huge arch of the bridge hanging prominently wherever we lived. He had told so many stories about this place that I immediately knew I had to pull over and see the bridge for myself. Fortunately, it's part of a national park with a visitor center on the gorge. The bridge deck is just over 3,000 f...

In which Moominmama finds Lake Superior to be superior indeed, as she wends her way around its shores to get to the Stratford Shakespeare Festival... Moominmama left Winnipeg to cross into the Province of Ontario, a transition immediately apparent by the sudden return of rocky outcroppings along the highway. I never realized how much I missed rocks until they became part of my landscape once more. Parked at Kakabeka Falls State Park (pictured above), I ventured down to Thunder Bay to hike the Sleeping Giant, a wonderful park on Lake Superior's shoreline with several paths up its reclining anatomy. I chose a steep but shorter trail to the Giant's head. This involved a pleasant up and down trail to a bay on the lake where I ate lunch and then followed the signs to the outhouse -- emphasis on the "out." Fortunately I was alone! From there, the trail got very, very steep. I was using roots, trees and rocks to pull myself up, working up quite a lather. Longest mile I'v...

  In which Moominmama explores the grand metropolis of Winnipeg and finds farm equipment with personality... Winnipeg is the capital city of the province of Manitoba -- and proud of it. An early explorer gave the town's center the name of "The Forks," after arriving where the Red River forks from the Assiniboine River. The name is still used today, but the Cree name "Winnipeg" also refers to this intersection, as it translates to "mixed waters," according to my tour guide. The Red River has a rusty color, and the Assiniboine is more green;  the two colors "mix" at the fork. For native people, trappers and early settlers, this intersection made Winnipeg a commercial center with materials traveling by boat from far afield until railroads and highways took over. This is the heart of Winnipeg, and a nifty restoration project took two old stables and converted them into a hipster market with local food and drink, shops and plenty of seating inside...

  Wherein Moominmama visits the Cypress Hills and the crucible that shaped the Royal Canadian Mounted Police... Moominmama underestimated the surprise of the Cypress Hills, a unique feature of the Saskatchewan plains.  I'd been warned Saskatchewan would be flat, so that came as no surprise. The vibrant green and gold colors did come as a surprise. Verdant grasslands, fields of wheat and sunny rapeseed, with ghostly hands brushing their surfaces in the wind. Giant rolls of blond hay and the multi-pronged machinery of modern farming lurching like pterodactyls along dirt roads. An enormous clear blue sky. Captivating -- and not at all boring as I'd been warned.  But I assumed the highest peak of Saskatchewan would be more like the rumpled hills of South Dakota, not requiring a climb up switchbacks to hills of lodgepole pine. I was headed to Fort Walsh, a place I'd read about in a book by Western writer Wallace Stegner, who spent part of his formative years in the area. The C...

  In which Moominmama seeks out more glaciers and avoids bears... Lake Louise was originally called the Lake of Little Fishes by the area's first inhabitants because the cold, slightly cloudy water did not provide much of a catch. The water's green hue led the first western visitors to name it Emerald Lake, until the region's Governor General,  a British appointee, renamed it after his wife Louise, the fourth daughter of Queen Victoria. The Queen in the meantime lent her name to the glacier that overhangs the lake. "So the Queen is still looking out for her daughter," said our bus driver, who offered tissues to anyone moved to tears. The hiking trails around Lake Louise have a touch of the Swiss Alps to them. Swiss mountain guides were brought here by the Canadian Pacific Railway at the turn of the century when they realized the tourism potential of the area newly accessible by transcontinental rail. And the Swiss built not only trails but two chalet-style teahous...