parks + rec: rv-ing the american west - the best charcoal bbq grill to buy
Don't let me pass through the river Jeannie ralstonfirehole.
There is at least 10 feet deep rumbling water here that beats me as I cling to the smooth rock wall.
I'm trying to be upstream of FireEye Canyon in Yellowstone National Park, behind my 16-year-old son Gus and 14-year-old Jeb.
One is a swimmer and the other is on a rock. climbing team.
They easily go through the quick walk to the ledge and we will launch ourselves from the ledge in order to float downstream.
I watched other people wash up and laugh.
They look younger than me, like bungee jumping people, and believe they are invincible.
As I struggled in the mighty water, I realized that I no longer believed in my invincible abilities.
Maybe I'm too old to do that.
But I am eager to be with my sons.
I have done most of the things over the years, they jump into puddles, ride roller coasters, ski, Blackdiamond slopes.
I always thought I was a "mother ".
However, they are becoming young people and it is harder for me to do what they do.
This family vacation, a road trip, reminds me that my husband Robb and I didn't have much time to travel with the boys before they went to the world.
We were traveling in a rental car, a 26-foot-
The freelancer of the Dragon driver is nicknamed the little beast.
From Yellowstone to Wyoming to North Montana and Glacier National Park, our itinerary takes us through the best places in the West.
Here, the empty space where the clouds cast a half shadow over the valley is as active as the tsunami on the horizon.
We don't have a definite plan.
We have a lot of camps to choose from, so we will do whatever we want.
Robb and I know that this proximity to our teenagers brings the risk of meltdon's, which explains the wine situation, but I hope that the distance from the internet will attract again
I will once again be a mother who is fully integrated into the life of her children.
Where are you from?
Shouted the next camp, the standard greeting for the RV world.
Grant Village camp on the shore of Yellowstone Lake.
The man, who claims to be "Wayne from Wisconsin", sits in a camp chair under a awning extending from his car home.
He traveled with his wife and three sons, who are now riding a bike by the lake.
He's full next to him.
Size grill and table with flower tablecloth.
You are traveling in fashion, I said.
We have done it once or twice and he replied when he stood up and added charcoal to the grill.
The idea is to make it feel like home.
Go home on the road.
He said that the best thing about rasing is not-we-there-yet questions.
In a way, we are always there.
The conversation follows the standard rotation profile I'm going to learn: where we 've been and where we're going.
The next day, when he heard that we were going to hike, Wayne insisted that we buy the bear repellent.
I saw signs of recommended spray, so after our burger and burger dinner cooked on fire pit (
Wayne and family grilled salmon)
We walked to the shop in the camp to buy a can and tablecloth.
The next day, we drove along the big ring road for two days.
Hike a mile to Lake Cascade, a swimming pool on the Alpine Meadows in the heart of Yellowstone National Park.
The boys followed Robb tightly, with a bear repellent on Robb's belt.
We take turns with our lunch backpack as it may attract bears.
When he slipped on his backpack, Jeb said we were playing bear roulette.
In addition to the ancient fountains, Yellowstone National Park is also known for its wildlife.
The Lamar Valley we visited earlier was called the North American Serengeti for its gray wolf (
Re-launched in 1995)
Moose, elk, bison and bears, including grizzly bears and black bears.
According to my calculations, 1,200 bears live in the park every three square miles.
As we walked through the fir tree, some Christmas presents were full-
For example, some of them peel off the bark (
Itchy bear? )
Robb's camera gives a mist on the spray button of the bear repellent and what is released.
Into the face of Gus.
He made a "agha" and coughed more than that.
Thankfully his throat and eyes cleared in a few minutes, but we decided we couldn't believe the spray, so I suggested talking to the bear. Loudly.
The boys pretended that we were taken away by the bear in a horror movie, which prompted Jeb to share that he was only going to watch horror movies with dates, so the girls would snuggle up with him
Horror led to science fiction, which led Gus to say that he wanted to be an aerospace engineer and design crafts that found intelligent life.
I am grateful for the surprise of the bear;
It has been a while since Robb and I have been investigating who our son became for a long time.
As young people with plans, they are speaking to us more equally now.
But it is bittersweet;
Their dreams do not include us.
After swimming in the river, biking, hiking, we visited Bozman, Montana.
The boys here look uneasy.
This is the fault of this tenacious town north of Yellowstone, where gold miners will stop.
On the contrary, our close range may catch up with us;
The boys are quarreling over who is sleeping there.
We had three beds at the back for Robb and me, another in the attic above the driver's seat, and one made with a bench mat pushed together in the dining space.
Since it includes assembly and disassembly, it is the least desirable.
Jeb is tired of the table.
But Gus argued that he should stay in the attic for a few more days since he was old.
The good thing about RV life is that your living area is walking around with you.
This is also a disadvantage.
It starts to wear on us and we drive, sleep, cook, eat, bathe and play cards within 200square-foot rectangle.
The cabin heat will definitely hit.
Especially if the cottage is home to siblings in their teens, their DNA program will cause them to entangle nerves with each other.
We parked the RV at our friend's house (
We are the best guests;
We have our own house. .
Bozeman, population, 38,000, surrounded by mountains, often appears on the list of the best places to live in the United StatesS.
Home base of outdoor type;
We look at people in 20-
Walk a mile along a mountain along the ridge and then go down.
Our Bozeman friends are very hard.
But they flew.
Fish, hiking and snow shoes, as a parent of a teenager's own, have great ideas for our kids to come out of tin boxes and drain the energy of teens, like walking along Madison
So the next day we drove west from Bozeman and took our friends to the inner tube to float.
That's when Rob and the kids float.
Someone has to drive the RV to pick-up point four miles downstream.
I'm not feeling well next to the pipe.
I am from a series of energetic parenting tours;
My 84 year old mother was riding a bike with us while my father was still riding a bike. Weâx80x99re doers.
Unless I won't come today.
I watched Robb and the kids drift on their inner tube like a lame starfish until they disappeared at the bend and then I jumped eightfoot-wide Beast.
Most of the driving is done by robots because I think it's nerve --racking;
There is no room for mistakes on narrow roads.
A breeze pushed me to traffic.
A truck sped in the other direction and pushed me over my shoulder.
I remind myself that people always drive a rv;
More than 9 million RVs registered in the United States. S.
I see people in their 70 s sitting behind the steering wheel of the rig, much bigger than our car, though driving feels like manipulating the bull on a swinging footbridge.
I pulled over undecently at the pick-up point.
There was still some time before my son appeared, so I sat on our back bed, opened the blinds and enjoyed the view of the river.
Interestingly, I was still cursing this clumsy aerodynamics a minute ago.
Now, I appreciate that my portable hotel room is very close to the water.
The first float I found was Jeb;
Gus and Robb follow.
I climbed out of the RV and ran towards them.
I forgot the camera when I was in a hurry.
But really, a picture can't capture what I see, the joy and the fun light up my son just as pure as they were when they were kids and fake --
They wrestle in our living room.
I decided to take a mental image.
This is a snapshot of the senses and I know I will be back here when they grow up.
I put my hand on my head like a metronome.
They crossed over when they saw me.
"Mom, let's do it again," said Jeb.
You should do it this time.
I looked at the sky and the sky turned into angry steel
The wool is gray to protect my children.
I will next time.
It's a moose jam, and as we approach a group of hikers on the Glacier National Park's glacial Lake Trail, the person wearing a rustic hat whispers.
We caught a glimpse of a thin moose.
The sightings revived Gus and Jeb, complaining that they had been hiking for ten miles so early in the morning.
They rushed up.
We are located in the center of the glacier at the northernmost end of Montana, on our way to the glacial lake. In the mid-
There are more than 1800 kilometers and 150 major glaciers here;
Only 25 left today.
Robb told our sons that a glacier in the Ice Age scraped off the valley.
It is everywhere in purple garden and orange Indian brush.
On top of the jagged gap of the house key.
A stream flows down one side like a silver weave.
Walking further along the trail, we came to a bowl of stone-walled stripes.
At the bottom of it is a small blue lake, which is usually only seen in advertisements for Caribbean vacations.
Fill the lake, like the fat cloud in the bright sky, the iceberg of Augustine, some flat, some peaked, many no bigger than the King --size bed.
The boys were eager to stand.
To my relief, a bed of ice floats on the shore.
After checking its stability with a stick, Gus and Jeb jumped up, excited and firmly landed, lifting their arms in the victorious bodybuilding posture.
They boldly jumped onto a series of nearby Buddhist hands until they were almost in the middle of the lake.
I want to call them back.
What if the iceberg is cracked?
Will they be trapped under the ice rack?
I resist the urge to stop them and oppose all my instincts as a mother.
My child is so old that he can take care of himself.
Really, they are big enough to take care of me.
I think back to our swim in the fire pit River, when I was fighting against the strong water and lost my strength.
I thought about bail.
Instead, my fingers slide into the cracks of the Rock and pull as hard as I can.
Just then, rock climbing player Jeb stretched one of my arms back, grabbed my hand and swept me away from where there was a problem.
At that moment, I was relieved and very nostalgic, remembering that I had been reaching out my hand when he tried to climb the cliff or get down from the tree.
The turn of the table is dazzling, especially in the fastmoving water.
More easily, I came to the ledge with my sons.
The green water was boiling under our feet and the white curls rushed in.
We attacked the main push of the river one by one.
The flow of water rotated alternately, and I was dunk;
I felt like I was riding through the canyon on a sticky beast.
In front of me, my boy jumped on his head;
Then, all of a sudden, we hit a slower pool and I hit them.
We gave each other a very high five points.
"Mom, you did it," shouted Gus, putting his arm around me. Yes, I did.
I walked a long way on that road.
The article, written by Jeannie Ralston, appeared in the April 2014 issue of traveler.
Not on the way, but also take photos for National Geographic magazine, and photographer ken Rick lives in Austin, Texas.