Glamping on the Road

By Paulette Rees-Denis

I’ve been on many adventures this last month, in my little T&B camper, and also in my new/old ’63 Shasta trailer—glamping is the appropriate term here, glamour camping! And what wonderful and colorful people I am honored to meet while traveling. Since last month’s article, I had my first solo maiden voyage (meaning no husband, Jeff) pulling the camper, driving from Clatskanie, Oregon, to Spokane, Washington, a long trip of about eight hours. Driving a small trailer like this, only 1,000 pounds, is not too difficult, but in super-windy conditions, like in the Gorge, going slower is a must, and no quick lane changes. With only a little white-knuckle driving on a steep cliff or two, yes, there were a few moments of panic, as I don’t like driving on the edge, but, dang it, I did it! Cheers to me, for that. And after hitting Prosser, I hooked up with other gals and their trailers, so we were able to caravan, and what a sight driving along on the freeway!

Western Washington is absolutely gorgeous—rolling wheat fields, open sky, curving hills—with the sun shining brightly. I was a happy camper, driving on this route to my first glampout, with Sisters on the Fly, the main purpose of this journey. SOTF (sistersonthefly.com) is a crazy group of women, who have trailers, mostly vintage, and fixed up to the nth degree. Trailers like Aladdins, Airstreams, a Scotty, all with cowboy/cowgirl and fishing themes prevailing. And we are talking some mighty fine girly campers and trailers—pinks, lace, aprons, cowboy boots, fishing rods, flower pots, crinolines and tuttus, hats, jewelry and lots of wine! These women know how to camp. And I am proud to say I am Sister #1757. There are almost 2,000 of us now, is that wild?

Cowgirl Jennel

I also had the pleasure of meeting my other camping mates, Rene’s parents, Sarah and John, when they came to visit the campground early Saturday morning. I immediately felt the love from these two magnificent people and the wisdom of their spirituality. Out from John’s sleeve peeked a small and faded tattoo, a symbol of sorts, of which I had to discover. It was tattooed in the colors of the four directions. John told me that, in their belief (he and his wife are both of Cherokee descent), there are four great supernaturals, the magic number four being the most sacred. In the Lakota way, it stands for Tatuye Topa, the four quarters of the earth. One of the Lakota’s chief symbols is Umane, and John gladly told me the story of this Lakota symbol. Umane represents the power that we all have, as the part of the force left over, or the unused force, after the Maker has fashioned all other things upon Mother Earth—both animate and inanimate—the rocks, trees, grass, four-leggeds and two-leggeds. The

John's Tattoo

configuration of John’s tattoo carried out his desire to use the Umane symbol plus the four directional colors. He told me that there remain about five different variations of the colors. The scheme he used is red for east, yellow for south, black for west and white for north.

One of my camping mates, Jennel, drove an old pickup pulling her cowgirl-themed Aladdin trailer, also her maiden voyage. She had her two small pups. Jennel was a hoot, and awfully damn cute in her red crinoline with her cowboy hat and tattoos showing.

Molly

The whole weekend was a blast. I laughed till I cried, played a little guitar, cooked vegetarian delights for my camping mates, drank wine and was completely relaxed and inspired through the whole weekend. I made it home safely and, gaining more courage and skill at pulling my trailer, avoided the roads with cliffs. After that weekend, we drove down to Klamath Falls, about six hours south of us in south eastern Oregon, to pick up our new/old ’63 turquoise and white Shasta, refurbished, and with wings. Heaven… just what we had been looking for, a bit of history and a classic. We drove through the mountains and enjoyed the ever changing scenery, which included rain, hail, snow, sun, wind, high desert, tall mountains and big lakes. Stunning. A short and sweet visit with the talented Wendy Durighello, from the Tin Inn, who refurbished our trailer (tininntraveltrailers.com), and we were on our way home, towing our new beauty.

Paulette the Glamper

The obsession took us on our next journey, to the beautiful hills and mountains of Rosyln, Washington. Yep, that is where the fabulous TV show, Northern Exposure, was filmed. We drove that distance this time for the 2nd Annual Vintage Trailer Rally. But first, we had to make a pit stop at Dick’s Brewery, in Centralia, to do some taste testing. A sunny and hot afternoon, we sat outside talking, with the brew masters sipping on a cold Dick’s Danger Ale. Parker and his partner had good beer info to share and a tattoo to show. We could have stayed and chatted, but only one beer allowed and time to hit the road again.

Roslyn Park

Up and over the Snowqualmie mountain pass, over highway 90, we pulled into Roslyn later than expected, but it was still light out, and, Lordy, so many trailers. Adrenalin was pumping as we made our way into the park and found a site to rest, tearing up the turf to meet everyone and see all the trailers before darkness won out. And let me tell you, about thirty of the coolest vintage trailers and cars were set up already, with more arriving continuously over the weekend.

The Shasta

A ’30s shiny silver Bowlus, a 1966 Chrysler pulling a small Airstream, about eight ’50s and ’60s Alohas, several Shastas similar to ours, an Oasis, some Aladdins, a Silver Streak, a Fireball and more. But no matter, generators buzzed, candles were lit and fire pits were set to blaze as campers milled about. And after a few rounds, we headed into the little town for some eats, starting at the Brick. Roslyn is the cutest little town, and also the town next to it, Cle Elum. Both with some nice cafes, a brewery, restaurants, art galleries, lots of horses in the rolling fields and plenty of gorgeous, open land. And what about this wheelbarrow art? How many and how high can you go? We slammed to a halt. I had to get out, have a good laugh and take some shots.

Wheelbarrow art

On Saturday, we were wind whipped and everyone wore layers of clothes, so it was hard to see any ink. But Sunday morning, the sun was shining, the field of trailers was glorious. Our trailer neighbors, Margie and Terry Buckendorf, were in their sweet little Airstream, and, yes, there was a tattoo on her wrist—a lotus blossom—which, to her, represents transformation and growth, as in “roots in the muck, blossom in the light.” I think that is a lovely expression, one to keep one grounded, yet growing, stable and creative.

Roslyn also has a sweet farmers’ market, on Sunday morning, and I had to hit up the local cheese makers, as I’m always on the lookout for good cheeses for the shop. Bought one of my favorite cheeses, Halloumi, from Tieton Farm and Creamery (Yakima). Have you ever grilled Halloumi and sprinkled it with capers and lemon juice? That is exactly what we did, when we got home.