Cuyahoga Valley National Park

It wasn't our original plan, no.  Conrad, Van, and I are trying to give each other experiences for Christmas rather than things, an since Van is a national parks enthusiast, I thought it would be great to take him to one that he hadn't visited before.  So I booked us flights and a car and a hotel room, and we were going to go to Crater Lake in May.

And then we all went to the Grand Canyon in January, and Van once again had a bad experience dealing with the altitude.  Poor man.

Crater Lake sits at about the same (or perhaps higher) elevation as the Grand Canyon (and higher than Boulder, where he's had problems before).  That wasn't going to work, alas.  I had to pivot.  And pivot I did.  All the way to Ohio.

It was funny and a little sad and, frankly, kind of shitty how people would react when we told them we were going to Cleveland, to Ohio.  It's as if we had picked not just a weirdly random place, but one that is associated with Rust Belt decay and too little going for it.  Which is a shame, and I wonder how many of those people have ever been to Cleveland anyway.  And you know what else Ohio has going for it?  A national park, one of only three in the Midwest (I've not been to the other two).  And a national park at about or even below the elevation that Pasadena is at.  A national park that Van had never visited (nor had he been to Cleveland - he had, curiously - been to Dayton, however!).  And that lovely national park, Cuyahoga Valley,

was our destination for a two-night stay.

We rolled up to the historic Inn at Brandywine Falls late in the afternoon. 

See all that green?  We don't get that here, not outside of well-watered neighbourhoods, and even then, it's not the same.  The old inn was charming, ramshackle in a delightful way. 

Our suite was one half of the restored barn building, and it was similarly cozy and a hodge podge of things. 

We had some light left in the evening, and time enough before a dinner reservation in nearby Hudson, so we walked over to view the falls from the top,

then came back to freshen up for dinner.

Vicky from the Inn had suggested Rosewood Grill in Hudson as a good dinner option, and she was right.  In fact, we went both nights we were at the Inn though I didn't take photos from the second dinner.  But that first night we shared deviled eggs

and each had Boulevardiers,

and I made a meal of a pork chop with peach glaze and some roasted asparagus. 

Satisfying!

If you know me by now, you will guess that I left Van to sleep in (and boy, did he ever!) and headed out on a walk. 

There was the threat of rain later in the day, so I made a circuit down one side of the creek gorge and back up the other side,

crossing back over above the falls. 

Again, so green. 

 

Wow!  No blue skies like the day before, but it was still lovely.  I came back, joined the other guests (save for Van) for breakfast, then came back to the room to relax until he got up.  That?  Was after noon.  He needed the sleep, I guess, and besides, it was pouring rain at that point.  Eventually we got out the door and over to a Starbucks before heading to a few points in the park to get photos, see the sights, and appreciate it all.

Another nice dinner that evening, and then back to the Inn.  Oh, look:  deer!

I got up early the next day,

looked at how much time I had, and decided I would be ambitious, mix in a little jogging, and head to the Boston Mills

visitor centre

and back.  A little over five miles round trip, and not a soul to be seen for almost all of it.  Tranquil, and calming, at least until I came upon the half-consumed fawn.  Then I thought, hmmmm.  Anyway, I got some shots there and on the way back (including from near the bottom of the falls)

and made it back with minutes to spare before dinner, sweating profusely as I made small talk with a different group of guests than the day before.  As for Van, I got him up about an hour or so before check out.  Rain had again come through while we were in the room.  Starbucks, and then back to Cleveland for us to relax in a lounge at the airport

and eventually fly back to LAX.

I'm already thinking on where to take him next year.... 

Montana escape, day 2

Last Monday Van and I were up early.  And if you know Van at least a little from this blog, you'll know that early is not something he relishes.  Nonetheless, there we were, getting up well in time to meet our guide.  It wasn't even fully light out when we woke up, though the valley and mountains around the resort still looked good.

It promised to be a cool, damp day for us to travel down into and about Yellowstone National Park, and it was true to its word.  We got our lunch from the hotel cafe to take along, and Nate met us out front.  Within an hour or so, we were inside the west gates of the park.  Actually, we had already passed through part of the park - some of the drive south took us through the western edge that bled into Montana.

Nate was an awesome guide.  Let me establish that right away.  He was so knowledgeable and very easy to talk with.  He asked what we wanted to see, and we told him we trusted him to show us the things he thought we should see.  And that was a good decision.  I mean, Van and I both agree that we would have stopped the very first time we saw bison and taken photos.  Nate bypassed that little traffic snarl and told us that we would have many more opportunities to see bison, and right along us on the road at that.  He was right.

What else was he right about?  Hmmm...  How about

• Taking us to see harlequin ducks, which, unlike most other ducks, are found on or near rapids.  Beautiful birds.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
• Finding wolves.  When we told people at the hotel and elsewhere that we had seen wolves thanks to Nate's keen eye and telescope, they were blown away.  A rare thing.
  
  
  
• Seeing Old Faithful, as is almost obligatory,
  
  
  
  
  
  but then taking us to Cliff Geyser and the surrounding pools and vents for something more interesting
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  (Old Faithful may be faithful, but it wasn't especially impressive).
• Stopping at the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone (yes, that's the actual name and how it is written), which was had an impressive waterfall and gorge.
  
  
  
• Driving out of the way a little to see if we could spot a bear.  No luck, but hey, look at that cute marmot. 
  
  
  
  
  
  And hey, look at that great vista of Yellowstone Lake. 
  
  
  And curse you, weather - just imagine how this would have looked if we could have better seen the mountains in the distance.
• Getting up early to go.  Old Faithful was busy, but everywhere else was not crowded, and we managed to see a lot without having to endure lines and throngs.

Other stops and highlights included seeing the Old Faithful Inn, a gorgeous old national parks lodge that, based on the tourist traffic inside (including us, eating lunch there in a common area and then buying souvenirs) we were heartily glad we didn't stay at. 

There were also the Gibbon Falls, another handsome park formation. 

He pointed out a forest that was killed by the flooding of chemically toxic water from the geothermal action. 

He drove us past yet more bison, this time with calves in tow.

We were back at the hotel around about 4:00 that day.  We unwound, and then headed to the hotel bar for a nice dinner, sitting in the window.  A very successful Monday of our escape, and we both slept well that night, indeed!