Kachess Lake

We went to Kachess Lake at last! It was a long time coming, but well worth the wait. 

I. Delays

I first planned our family lake day over two weeks before we finally ended up going, but a set of delays pushed the trip out of July and then farther and farther into August. First we postponed it because our gear was too wobbly on the roof, then we put it off again to wait for warmer weather. I began to think that this lake was cursed! On Monday, August 17th, the variables finally aligned for a family day at the lake. I got up early to prepare our cooler of food. When I had everything all ready, I discovered that Jeff was still in bed. The man never sleeps in. It is not normal for him to stay in bed past 6am, and it was nearly 8! He was sick. We didn't know what he had, but he was too weak to come to the lake.

I screeched to a mental halt and faced the familiar feelings of frustration, lake-curse, and defeat. We had invited the entire local White family-- cousins, grandparents, and all. Even though I knew Jeff wasn't pretending to be sick and that he didn't get sick on purpose, I felt abandoned! This was supposed to be a full-family outing, and suddenly it became a strained single-mom responsibility. If we hadn't invited the cousins, I would have canceled the obviously cursed lake trip once and for all. But the kids were so excited to kayak and play with the cousins all day at the lake, I couldn't back out again! School was starting the next week. This was it. 

With significant effort, I adjusted my expectations for the day and sent a message to Jeff's sister Steph, informing her of the change in plans. We decided to leave two hours later than our original 8am, to give me time to run beforehand and to give everyone time to come to our house and help hoist the kayaks and tie them onto our van's roof. Once again, I had been looking forward to running on that beguiling Kachess Lake Trail, and once again it was ripped from my bosom. Swallowing [some of] my disappointment, I started running near home and called my longsuffering, sympathetic mother to vent my frustrations at the irksome situation. Four miles later, I felt significantly better and more able to take on the long day without spousal support.

II. Driving

A little after 9am, the Gibbons and Whites arrived. Dan and Jasen started the process of attaching the rack to the van roof and lashing the kayaks to the rack. It was their first time working with these specific supplies, so it took a while. We were all sweaty when we rolled out at 10:10am. Steph and Jasen followed me at a distance to keep an eye on the kayaks, and we made the two hour drive to the lake without any incident. 

We had been planning to use this drive to catch up with our Book of Mormon family scripture reading. Last week we fell far behind with all of the long war chapters. So we listened to the last ten chapters of Alma, which took nearly an hour and a half, even at 1.2x speed! It was long, but we survived, and it felt good to get caught up. Some scriptures are best done in small pieces; others need to be swallowed whole in large gulps. 

After we finished Alma, we started listening to the Sammy Keyes series by Wendelin Van Draanen. I have read those beloved middle grade mysteries several times, and it was fun to listen to them with my kids. I think I laughed more often than the kids did! 

One of the reasons I chose Kachess Lake was for its easy access off of interstate 90. The lake was a mere 5 miles off the highway, so most of the drive was smooth and straight (a bonus for my daughters' pukey carsick tendencies). Even though the lake was so close to the interstate, it was far enough away that no busy highway noises were audible. It felt secluded and mountainous.

III. Kachess Lake

In a word, our time at the lake was a delight. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the water was clear, and the kids were giddy. It was hot in the sun and cool in the water. An almost too-perfect set of distant blue mountains hugged the horizon, and evergreen-clad mountains rimmed the lakeshore. The lake had a wide pebbly sandy beach, with plenty of room for all visitors to have their own space.  

Mountain lakes are so cool, clear and clean! I much prefer them to the many murky weedy lakes I have visited in the lowlands. Kachess Lake is a reservoir that holds water used to irrigate our very own dry valley in south-central WA. It is several miles long, with the top third narrower than the wider bottom portion. Our beach was along the quieter, skinnier northern portion. We saw a few motorboats and jet skis, but for the most part they stayed south of us in the wider deeper water. The beach sloped gently into the lake, and the water was shallow enough for us to touch bottom quite a ways out. It was an ideal combination.

The minute Jeff said he couldn't come to the lake that morning, I began worrying/dreading that the burden of solo-parent responsibility as well as being one of two lone in-laws in a White family gathering would wear on my ability to enjoy the day. I also felt super bad that I wasn't strong enough or knowledgeable enough to help with the kayak roof strapping. The magic of the lake swept all of those concerns away. That, and the fact that my kids are old enough to have fun without a hovering mother. 

We ate a picnic lunch right when we arrived, and then turned the kids loose on the lake. The Gibbons brought their Water Carpet, which is a large thick floating foam mat. I had never heard of water carpets before, and it was a hit! It easily held all seven kids and they had dance-offs and splash-a-thons. They jumped and bounced. They launched themselves off the edge into the water. They laid on it like fish. Even the adults enjoyed lounging on the water carpet. It was like our own personal island in the water.

Kayaking on the rippling blue water was the definition of serenity. We had three kayaks for our party of 12: our two single person kayaks, and Grampa Dan's two-man kayak. We all took turns paddling, some with more heavily-laden watercraft than others. I think the largest load of the day was when Grampa Dan and Grama Leslie took one grandkid in their double kayak, and towed another kid behind them on a boogie board. Or when Jasen had two kids with him in our single person kayak and pulled a third kid on the boogie board. The biggest load I carried was two kids: Amber in front of me and Tate behind. The kids also launched off on their own kayaking expeditions.  

It was the relaxed free-form lazy lake recreation day of my dreams. The lake was better than I expected it to be, even after all of my research. Having my expectations exceeded is a rare delight! We stayed for five hours. Everyone was satisfied, sunkissed, and tired when we packed up at 5pm.

It took a while for the Water Carpet to unroll.

Jay and Tate took the first paddle of the day.

Grama and Grampa, with Grayce in the middle and Rose towing behind.

Amber and I had several quality kayak journeys together. She liked trailing her hands, feet, or net in the water as I paddled against her drag.

Tate jumped on behind. I had that smudge of sunscreen on my nose all day long. I had no husband around to tell me about it or rub it in for me.

Jay in a donut.

Tate, age six, learned how to paddle the kayak quite well by the end of the day, even with his big cousin Rose weighing him down.

Rose and Tate tried to build a sand castle, but the sand was pretty rocky and they didn't get far. My feet were exfoliated to the point of soreness by the end of the day from walking on that rough sand. A benefit of the rocky sand was it didn't sift and filter into every crevice and container we had.

Jay was the minnow-catching expert. Layne loved looking at his bucket of little fishies.

I sat on the back of a kayak and let Amber try her hand at paddling. Her technique was a hazard to my ears and nose, and I kept having to take a turn paddling to steer us in the right direction, but she had fun.

Rose and Tate in the kayak, following Grayce swimming out front.

View of the beach across that gorgeous blue-green clear water.

So soothing.

Jay and I went on a long journey together, just the two of us. His innate calmness was a perfect fit for peaceful kayak paddling.

Jay loves kayaking. I was so glad we finally were able to do it!

Once I was away from the splashing kids and rough sand on shore, I let myself kick back and bob gently in the soft smooth water.

A quarter of a mile from the beach. My watch has a kayak setting, which was fun to use. On one of my excursions, I kayaked a whole mile! All of the [YouTube] yoga I have been doing strengthened my shoulders enough to enjoy paddling a kayak longer. It's been years since I felt any semblance of shoulder strength, and I still have a long way to go, but it was fun to feel strong while dragging my paddle through the water. Another yoga-bonus: I was tired after kayaking but not sore!

Uncle Jasen attempting to relax on a heavily laden Water Carpet.

The kids had these hilarious "dance-offs" on the Water Carpet. They stood up and pranced back and forth foot-to-foot, kind of like jogging in place. The last one to fall was the winner! Amber LOVED that game. 

Tate surfed behind the kayak.

Amber heaven.

Five cousin-fishies. I forgot to get a picture of all seven cousins in one place. 

Bless them. It was worth the trouble to bring the kayaks. These little beauties may be old and scuffed, but they are also FUN.

One last glance down the beach at the lake, through the lengthening evening shadows. I bet sunset on the lake was magical. But this was a day trip, so we didn't see it.

Lake through the trees past our picnic table.

I'm so glad we used the nasty vault toilet before hitting the road homeward.

IV. Homeward

Surprise! I know, you probably thought this day was over. So did I, when I pulled out of the lake parking lot at at 5:15pm on Monday evening. If you'd rather leave it here and only have happy blissful memories of our idyllic lake-day, stop reading now. Only frustration lies ahead. 

A simple straight-shot 2 hour drive on the interstate stood between me and a healthy homemade dinner, a cleansing shower, and my soft comfy bed. In spite of the uncomplicated interstate drive, this was the part of the day that I was looking forward to least. Driving several hours home is always the hardest part of any wilderness excursion. But I buckled up and buckled down for the drive with my three tired kids and a lighthearted Sammy Keyes audiobook for company. 

Five miles from the lake, we arrived at I-90, ready to merge at exit 62 and head east toward home. A policeman was in the road directing traffic away from a road block barricading the eastbound ramp. He pointed us west, and I followed everyone else onto I-90 west, assuming that there would be a convenient detour sign to reroute me east soon. As I drove west, an alarming sight unfolded to my left: twelve miles of nearly standstill bumper-to-bumper traffic clogged the eastbound highway! That was not something I cared to sit though. 

We pulled off at exit 47 to consult Google maps for an alternate route. It directed us through increasingly skinnier side roads until we were on a one-way mountain road. Then the pavement ended and we were crunching along on an even narrower gravel forest service road. The road was rough, rocky, and extremely rutted. The rooftop kayaks made our minivan feel top-heavy, and that plus front wheel drive and low wheel clearance made for a very slow, winding stressful drive. 

I turned off our audiobook and clenched the steering wheel in both hands so I could focus on dodging potholes, ruts, and pits, and thereby hopefully prerserve the undercarriage of our vehicle. Although I informed the kids several times how bad the road was, I tried not to reveal the extent of my tension and stress to them. Instead we admired the beautiful forest scenery as we bobbled and bounced along. 

A glance in the rearview mirror told me that I was not the only car following these sketchy Google directions. At least six cars were bumping, bouncing, and zigzagging around potholes in our wake. There were probably more, but the road was too curvy for me to see them.

The curvy bumpy gravel road was six miles long, and Rose started to feel nauseous. We opened the windows to the gravel-dusted mountain air in an attempt to curb her nausea, and it helped. I told the kids to pray that we would be safe and that Rose wouldn't puke. I said a silent prayer of my own, and kept driving. The fastest I could comfortably go on this crazy road was 10 mph, with many slowdowns. After the first three miles or so (aka at least 30 minutes!) the road smoothed out considerably, so I was able to bump it up to 20 mph, with plenty of sudden brakes whenever unexpected potholes appeared.

A smooth section of the forest service road we took in our first attempt at an alternate route. Photography was not an option on the rough sections.

That winding forest service road popped us out onto Kachess Lake Road, right where we had started. I drove back to the policeman at exit 62 and this time rolled down my window and asked him how I could go east. 

"You're going to have to drive west to exit 54, turn around, and get onto 90 east there," he said, gesturing at the westbound ramp. 

"Is that the only way?" I asked.

"It's the only interstate route that I know," he replied patiently.

I kind of crumpled and pulled over to a convenient nearby gravel area to regroup and scour my maps for any other possible routes. Identifying one last hope, I drove back down Lake Kachess Road to a different minor side road. It was lined with fancy "rustic" cabins, and a sign near the entrance declared "NO OUTLET." But the line on my map said a road continued beyond this neighborhood, so I had to check. After a mile or three, the pavement once again ended and a sign warned "NON-MAINTAINED ROAD AHEAD." I crept our valiant minivan down the rocky road a few feet. A bumpy deep ditch cut the road in half. Immediately I knew we were out of luck. Our heavily laden minivan would bottom out and leave the oil pan behind if I attempted to ease it over that ditch. 

Sighing, I executed a six point turn, counting each point out loud. Amber joined in, quickly catching on to the game of counting up every time we changed direction. It was an incredibly narrow road with dense forest on both sides. I'm sure the bright orange kayaks on our roof made the whole spectacle amusing. Except we still had to figure out how to get home! Somehow we got turned around and slowly drove through the cabin-hood back to Lake Kachess Road. At that point, we had been in the car for TWO HOURS and we were still at the lake! 

The mountains can be irascibly unforgiving.

When we arrived back at that cursed exit 62 roadblock, I was resigned to our fate. We took the westbound ramp and followed 90 all the way to exit 54, where we exited, drove across the overpass, and merged back onto I-90, this time eastbound. We joined the end of the twelve mile stretch of bumper-to-bumper traffic right at the end of the ramp. I told the kids it would be a long long time before we got home, and we kept listening to Sammy Keyes as we stop-start-stop-rolled along. I'm not sure I used the gas pedal more than a handful of times for the next two hours. The sun set. Amber admired the pink clouds. 

Two and a half hours after we joined the eastbound clogged scrum, we arrived back at exit 62. For the third time, we were back where we started, only this time, we had paid our dues and were able to continue east down the ramp. As I slowly drove past, I saw that the highway underneath the overpass at exit 62 was completely torn up, down to the dirt. Whatever road work was happening was major. Eastbound traffic was rerouted up the exit 62 ramp and then down the other side back onto I-90 east. The overpass was undamaged. Why didn't the policeman simply have the cars from the highway diversion and the cars from the lake take turns using the ramp onto I-90 east? Instead he forced the lake cars to backtrack 12 miles and then SIT in traffic for over two hours. It was unfathomable. 

My butt and legs were tired from all of the stop-and-go braking. Five hours into our "drive home," we finally were passing that awful exit 62 and cruising along the highway. But now we had other concerns. Scratch that, concerns become full-blown problems after 10 pm: 

• It was pitch dark. 
• The kids were hungry (and "tired of all of the food in our car")
• We were very low on gas. 
• Our roof was still heavily laden with two kayaks.
• We were sharing the road with a large concentration of large semi trucks unfurling from the traffic jam. 
• The slipstream of large trucks made our top-heavy kayak van sway alarmingly whenever they passed us or we passed them.
• It was breezy. (also not excellent for top-heavy vehicles)

It was after 10 pm when I spotted the first sign for gas. We drove to the Safeway grocery store in Cle Elum, WA and filled up our very nearly empty tank. That eased a mental load. The kids really wanted some fast food for a very belated dinner, but the only place I could see from the Safeway parking lot was a Taco Bell across the street, and it had a long winding line of cars waiting at the drive thru. Everyone else who had been stuck in that interminable traffic jam through dinner had the same idea. I refused to sit through another line of cars OR drive around an unfamiliar town hunting for another restaurant that was open past 10 pm, so I strapped on my mask and dashed into Safeway to find us some sandwiches.

As if the barriers on this drive home would end once we got around that road block. HAH. Safeway had just one small mangled refrigerated sandwich left.

Let me set the scene a little better: It was after 10 pm. My kids were waiting in the car in the dark parking lot. I was wandering alone around an unfamiliar grocery store wearing what was essentially a miniskirt (my swimsuit bottom is a short skirt). I was wearing sandals and a t-shirt to compliment my short swim-miniskirt. My hair was a mess. I was wearing my mask and clutching my wallet. Portrait of a tired mama hunting for food to feed her brood.

Grocery stores are notoriously cold, thanks to all of the open refrigerators. I was shivering in my miniskirt as I searched for quick food that didn't need to be heated up. My plan B was to buy a baguette and some lunchmeat, but I could not find the bakery! We have a Safeway in Sunnyside, and I have shopped at several other Safeway locations in the past. I am familiar with Safeway in many configurations! The Safeway in Cle Elum was arranged completely differently than all of the Safeways that I have ever visited. 

I ended up walking the perimeter of the store past all of the refrigerators, shaking from the cold draft on my scantily clad frame. When I had almost circumnavigated the entire store, I found the bakery, tucked behind the produce section. I was too relieved to find a slightly stale day-old discounted baguette to spare much energy for exasperation at the odd location of the bakery.

Grabbing a packet of sliced turkey and some individual cheese slices from the cold refrigerator, I walked to the self checkout. Which promptly closed down the minute I approached. The screens all flashed either "CLOSED" or "CLOSING." When I walked into the store, I saw a customer using the self checkout. By the time I had tracked down sandwich supplies, the blasted self checkout was closed, and there was only one cashier on duty. 

And there were two people in line ahead of me. One of them had a full cart, complete with a couple dozen tiny individual cans of something. Cat food? Vienna sausages? Minced fruit? I couldn't tell, due to social distancing. But it took the late night cashier a while to ring all of it up. I wanted to scream "HURRY UP! MY KIDS ARE IN THE CAR ALONE!" But I didn't think that would solve any of my problems. The last thing this journey needed was a visit from CPS.

I finally paid for my four items and power walked back out to my van full of tired kids and heavy kayaks. Amber had fallen asleep, so she didn't partake of our stale subpar sandwich. We ripped the baguette into chunks and jammed cold turkey into it, and hit the road. Rose, usually my least-picky child, declared that she could NOT stomach lunchmeat, so she just had bread and cheese. Whatever. 

Back into the black abyss of I-90 we drove. It was a relief to leave I-90 and get onto the much calmer less-busy 82. My stress levels dropped semi-truck-traffic-wise, but on the desolate hilly 40 miles between Ellensburg and Selah, the trademark "strong side winds ahead" were a-blowing. I slowed down and drove 60 mph instead of 70 for the rest of the way home with my swaying rooftop load. 

There is nothing quite like the frustration and strain taking seven hours to travel 120 miles.

We got home at midnight.