A wildfire, an evacuation and a Grand Canyon adventure up in flames

July 10, 2020 By

COVID-19 has not been fun for anyone.

A few of our highlights: I commemorated the one-year passing of my mother’s death, my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer (and I’m unable to cross the Canadian border to aid in his recovery from surgery), our beloved pet of over a decade passed away, economic stress, homeschool nightmares, ongoing health challenges, an earthquake, the stress of finishing our basement and now we’re adding our only vacation that (literally) went up in flames.

Does anyone else feel as though you have lived a lifetime in just a few months?

Overall, we’ve been blessed. We have a roof over our heads. Food on the table. Enough money to pay the bills. And, most importantly, each other.

The Grandest of Canyons

What we haven’t had the last several months is travel so when some friends invited us to camp on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon last month, we were all in. My husband and kids had never been to the Grand Canyon and a socially-distanced, relaxing getaway was desperately needed.

Our excitement grew as we ventured along Highway 89A, a 5,000-foot climb over 40 miles to the Kaibab National Forest. We stopped at the Jacob Lake Inn, a charming outpost curiously devoid of a lake, but renowned as the “The Gateway to the North Rim.” The inn offers cabins and motel rooms, a restaurant, gas station, small grocery store, gift shop and they are most famous for their palate-pleasing milkshakes, pies and assortment of cookies (lemon zucchini and Cookie in a Cloud are among the favorites).

Little did we know that just 10 hours later, our memories of Jacob Lake would be much less sweet.

We drove south along Highway 67 past verdant meadows, quaking aspen and ponderosa pine toward the Grand Canyon North Rim. We made an hour-long detour on a backcountry road and set-up camp a few miles from the Rainbow Rim Trail where we planned to mountain bike the next day. The next few hours were spent setting up camp, hammocking and exploring our remote little plot before driving into Grand Canyon National Park.

The North Rim’s seasonal opening had been delayed due to the COVID-related shut-downs. During the time of our visit, the Grand Canyon Lodge North Rim, Visitor Center, Dining Room and campground were still closed. For a world-famous national park that gets four million annual visitors, it was surreal to have the North Rim mostly to ourselves. “How can we be so lucky?” we marveled as we cooked dinner in the deserted campground, freely explored the gift shop and took heaps of photos along the North Rim. The mile-high crimson walls revealed a cross-section of the Earth’s crust dating back to nearly two billion years and in awed silence, we felt like we were discovering this red rock nation for the first time.

Between a [Red] Rock and a Hard Place

At dusk, we melted into the Adirondack chairs on the deck of the lodge, our only cares in the world were if that evening’s sunset would match the bold reds, oranges and pinks of the canyon’s promontories. We were just starting an animated game of Head’s Up when our evening was interrupted by a park ranger. His nose and mouth were masked but there was urgency in his eyes. “You need to evacuate the Grand Canyon. NOW.”

Dumbfounded, we listened as he told us they were closing down the North Rim due to the escalating Mangum Fire which was burning near the park.  We scrambled to locate my daughter who had wandered off taking photographs, jumped in our vehicles and made the hour-long slog back to break camp in the dark as our friends blasted the best of the 80s from their truck (sidenote: Flashdance‘s “What a Feeling” was the No. 1 song in America which was a befitting soundtrack).

We navigated that lengthy backcountry road for the fourth time that day, straining for visibility through the dust and darkness. When we finally reached Highway 89A, a police car was navigating traffic. Yes, the highway is still open for now and yes, we should hurry. 

I honestly wasn’t too worried at that point because there were several factors working in our favor. The park had just barely closed and we were incredibly lucky to have been among the few people in the park at the time of the notification; who knows when we would have received word of the closure if we had stayed at our secluded campsite that evening.

We curiously watched as the black plumes of smoke rose into large pyrocumulus clouds in the distance. We were the caboose of our caravan and about 30 minutes into our drive, we encountered a truck heading south in the opposite direction. They were urgently trying to get our attention so we eased to a stop. “Turn around now,” they shouted at us.  “The fire has jumped on both sides of the highway. We just drove through it and didn’t know if we would make it out because the smoke made it impossible to see the road.”

I frenziedly called our friends but when I couldn’t reach them, we reluctantly kept driving toward Jacob Lake. As we rounded a bend, we were very alarmingly in the middle of a ring of fire. Our friends’ vehicle was pulled over and they had jumped out of the car to marvel at this scene straight from Armageddon.  Bone-dry air and combustible vegetation were the perfect formulae for disaster as we had a front-row seat to this smoke show.  The flames leaped from tree-to-tree, moving rapidly along the trunk and up to the crown, decimating branches as they spread. Our senses were bombarded with the penetrating colors–brilliant pumpkin orange, eerie green and blood red. Next came the whiffs of burning pine and embers in this high kingdom of cloud and smoke. And finally, the heat. We were close enough to the inferno to feel the hot cinders lapping against our skin.

We were in hell and yet somehow, it was mesmerizingly beautiful, just like those final moments in Raiders of the Lost Ark when the spirits emerge from the ark, eventually revealing themselves to be angels of death before vaporizing the remains of the doomed assembly in a whirlwind of fire.

I snapped out of my reverie to a sense of urgency. “GET BACK IN THE CAR!!!” I shouted at my husband. He spent a few more minutes photographing the wildfire, telling me upon reentering the car that I needed to calm down. Pro-tip for husbands everywhere: Don’t tell your wife to calm down. Ever. The result will be quite the opposite.

We quickly turned around, driving into the blackest of black abyss, frequently startled (and devasted) over the wild eyes of the minefield of terrified deer that lined the road.

We were among the lucky ones. Unlike the thousands of people who have lost their homes and their lives to wildfires over the years, we had an escape route, an alternate way off the mountain that took us several hours south to Page, Arizona where we stumbled into our hotel room’s beds at 2 a.m., exhausted yet grateful.

The whole experience, particularly after months of anxiety and unknowns, continues to be overwhelming.  I almost vowed I wasn’t going anywhere ever again until I remembered that’s what we’ve been doing these past several months so I’m basically between a [Grand Canyon] of rock and a [burning] hard place.

Oh, 2020, the tales we’ll have to tell about you someday.

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Video footage taken by Bo Pousima Afeaki Inukihaangana around the same time we encountered the Mangum Fire.

Filed Under: Family, Family travel, Favorite Posts

In Memory of Remy “Fat Kitty” Tiger Johnson

April 17, 2020 By

We said good-bye to Fat Kitty today.  Since his colon cancer diagnosis on Monday, we were prayerful about when to put him down. We selfishly wanted more time with him but we didn’t want him to be in pain so as we saw his rapid decline, we knew Friday would be the day.

The doctor prescribed Prednisone to shrink the tumor and anti-diarrheal and anti-nausea meds but trying to get him to take them was moderately traumatic for him and us (he hid under Bode’s bed and was afraid of us). We made the difficult decision to not continue his meds so he could live his final few days in peace. And that they were. His little body was slowly shutting down. His once robust appetite was replaced by barely eating a few morsels a day, he strained to go to the bathroom and he withered away before our eyes, considerably lighter when we picked him up. I always proclaimed he was just big-boned and that he was…when most of his fat gone, Jamie estimated he was still 1 foot across when laying down.

Fat Kitty has prepared us for his departure all week, slowly pulling away and occasionally seeking privacy and refuge under Bode’s bed, something he hasn’t done in the 10 years since we brought him home. Jamie told us it was like an elephant graveyard…our sweet boy just knew the end was near. Jamie and Bode built him a little coffin made of wood and Hadley drew flowers and a sweet message. My wonderful friend Sarah came over on Tuesday to do a family photoshoot with him. He hated every minute but I’ll treasure those pictures forever. 

Last night was hard knowing it was his final night on earth. He fell asleep by my side but I awoke at 1 a.m., stressed about him and work. I looked around and he had disappeared. I surmised he had retreated under Bode’s bed again and I worked for a couple more hours. As I started to return to try to sleep again, I heard something in the laundry room: he was trying to go to the bathroom in his litter box. We met out in the living room and connected in a beautiful, tender way. As I looked into those magnificent green eyes, he told me he was ready. It was time. I brought my beautiful boy back to bed with me, in tears, and savoring every last minute with him. I only got two hours of sleep that night but it was a sweet night I’ll never forget.

He has been struggling all week but today, he was a bit more energetic. The weather was finally warm and sunny enough to go outside. He and Hadley explored his beloved fields and our neighbor’s yard. He sat on the porch cushion for an hour basking in the sunshine. When he came back inside, he retreated to Bode’s dark room for some privacy but Bode, Hadley and I surrounded him with snuggles on the bed. Poor cat was probably like, “Just leave me alone!” But we wouldn’t. That afternoon, I dimmed the lights to my bedroom, played some calming music as Hadley and I massaged and snuggled him for his final few hours on earth.  We said a tearful family prayer with him one last time.

(Final touch and a smile)

Due to COVID-19, the vet clinic no longer does home visits so we had no choice but to take him back to the clinic. We waited on the back lawn as he anxiously sniffed the air and watched the birds. Every night before bed, Bode falls asleep to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s “God Be With You ‘Til We Meet Again,” and gosh darn if that kid didn’t play the song and make us cry all over again.

The vet tech came out to us, took Fat Kitty inside the hospital to shave his paw and insert an intravenous cannula. She returned with the veterinarian who was so gentle, sensitive and kind with him and us. We placed him in the middle of us, touching his back as the injection traveled through the tube and a matter of seconds, he slowly bowed his head and fell asleep. It was fast. It was heartbreaking. It was peaceful. 

Jamie placed him in his little casket and wrapped him with Aunt Lisa’s beloved blankie. I held him the drive home, just as I did the first time we brought him to our house 10 1/2 years ago.

We gathered around the little grave the kids and I dug this week. I asked if anyone had anything to say. Filled with emotion, Bode spoke up. He was 3 when we brought Fat Kitty home and he doesn’t remember life without him.

“I still remember when we brought him home to our house in Arvada, it was dark outside,” he reminisced as he looked up at the bluebird sky. “But today as we drove him back home for the last time, we were going toward the light.”

I read a eulogy I wrote (below) about our sweet boy, Jamie did a beautiful dedicatory prayer of the grave and we said good-bye to our boy forever. How blessed we were to have such a sweet, loyal and kind pet in our lives.

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 Jamie’s Facebook post:

To our dear pet of more than 10 years, Fat Kitty. To say our relationship was complicated, would be an understatement. I would explain my dissatisfaction at times for your early wake-up calls and you would show your dissatisfaction with a poop surprise.

Although our relationship was mutually love/hate, I loved you because you loved my family. There is no cat that has ever been more adored by two children and a wife. You brought them constant joy and for that I love you.

I will miss you hunting voles in the backyard. I will miss seeing you curled up with Amber on the bed. I will miss your strange but wonderful conversations with Hadley. I will miss the strange way you would lean yourself up against the wall so you could lick your Buddha belly. And I will miss your absolute zest and passion for food.

Sleep well, Sweet Kitty.

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My eulogy:

Remy “Fat Kitty” Tiger Johnson (October 2006ish – April 17, 2020) 

Our beloved pet, son, brother, mentor and best friend passed away from Colon Cancer on April 17, 2020. Fat Kitty lived a full life (or rather, spent much of his life full) in the company of his dad Jamie, mom Amber, sister Hadley and fraternal twin brother Bode.

Fat Kitty was rescued when he was about three years old and went on to spend 10 ½  wonderful years with the Johnsons. His talents included catching mice and then sitting on them for fun, doing backflips off window sills after slamming into the blinds, getting attacked by mama magpies for attempting to stalk her babies, eating copious amounts of TUNA, finding the softest place to sleep and using poop as a weapon when he was mad.

Fat Kitty always had to be near his humans, snuggling, purring and loving them hard. He was loyal and protective and would see his children off to school every morning and greet them when they arrived home. His “meow of death” made an appearance during his three memorable baths–two baths were the result of a muddy life on the lam, the other after his brother finger-painted him with chocolate pudding. Fat Kitty would quizzically look at his humans anytime they tried to (what’s that word again?) do a thing called playwith him…but they would occasionally see bouts of whimsy when his beloved Mr. Fluffles made an appearance.

(Mr. Fluffles)

Fat Kitty is preceded in death by Amber’s mom “Grandma B” who passed away almost exactly one year ago. The night before her passing in a midnight interchange with her son, she quietly told him, “I’m ready to go home.” At 3 a.m., just 12 hours before Fat Kitty’s untimely death, he and Amber had a similar encounter as he gently told her it was time.  He passed away peacefully the next day on the lawn of the Wasatch Animal Clinic surrounded by his loving family and the veterinarian who poked and prodded him his final weeks….but who provided the ultimate healing in the end.

Fat Kitty was buried in his backyard near the gate he used to sneak out of, overlooking the fields where he spent some of the happiest days of his life catching his “mouse friends.” He was laid to rest in the (kind of) little wood coffin his dad and brother built that was painted with roses by his sister. He is forever wrapped in the loving embrace of his favorite blankie and sealed with love.

May we all live our fullest lives like Fat Kitty by eating a lot, slumbering in splendor, crapping on the stuff you hate and, most importantly, always staying physically connected to the ones you love.

Filed Under: Family, Favorite Posts Tagged With:

An Ode To The Lovely Chris

May 30, 2019 By

My dad wrote this to my mom 20+ years ago and he included it in her funeral program! I love it…except that Jamie wasn’t yet on the scene and an old boyfriend is included. :-)

An Ode To The Lovely Chris by Stan February 14, 1996

They met at curling, that roaring game

Stan of Fork River and Christine from Raymond she came

That Chris was a knockout, ere was no doubt But Stan was too shy to ask her out

Chris took the lead

And to dinner Stan came

And that all started the old dating game

First came love, and then “I do”

And off to Hawaii the happy couple flew

Taylor apartments was their first home

With that big Dodge Royal with which to roam

A year later Number 1 baby came

Patrick Shawn was the little guy’s name

A new home was now needed and as the story goes

Off the pair went to Mapleglade Close

A few years later, in 1972 I think

We got baby Number 2 and the color was pink

For a girl arrived at the stroke of midnight

While Stan was at home sleeping quite tight!

On summer vacations we traveled quite far

Off to B.C. or Disneyland in that faithful old car

First with a tent, then a tent trailer we went

Finally a -fist class trailer was money well spent

In 1977, the last bundle of joy came

Jade Barrett Borowski was Number 3’s name

Sports was a big thing with the kids I must say

Baseball and soccer and volleyball and hockey they play

Those were great times, a chance to go out

To cheer and to holler and let out a loud shout!

Pat finally got married and it seemed to be

That would leave Chris, Jade, Amber and me

But no – I remember utter surprise When Pat, Jane and Ashton on our doorstep arrived!

We managed quite fine but they needed something new

And after awhile, out of the nest they all flew

It was Amber’s turn next and off to Ricks she went

And the big expedition was money well spent

For she made good friends and found a boyfriend named Scott

He was No.1 whether we liked it or not

But she wasn’t prepared to just settle down

A missionary call would change things around

Geneva Switzerland, she said was the place to be

With Heavenly Father, my companion and me

That left just Jade and he was growing up fast

Enjoy him while he’s home. It wasn’t to last

Hockey was over when Jade broke his right leg

But it was on to golf with great passion instead

On crutches to school and on crutches to play

On Mapleridge course, it was the talk of the day

Two holes in one during only one year

Was cause for celebration and a loud cheer

But a golf ball came flying and much to his surprise

It caught Jade squarely between his two eyes!

Chris became a business lady under The Curiosity Shoppe name

Tea room and gifts were her new claim to fame

They came to the tea room from near and from far

And it was a great business, well above par

But the landlord and city lowered the boom

With more rent and more taxes to send them to doom

And out dear old Chevron way,

Stan was bundled up and bid a good day

After 33 years to new ventures he went

You still have to eat. You still must pay rent

And Jade has now left and so you must see

That leaves empty nesters, Christine and me

We still have our quarrels, our troubles, the lot

But I am still happy we decided to tie that OLD KNOT!

-Love, Stan

Filed Under: Family, Favorite Posts

Christine Ririe Borowski

May 4, 2019 By

A lot of people associate me with being the writer in the family but I love the sweet and funny tribute my dad wrote about my mom.

BOROWSKI, Christine Ririe
July 12, 1944 – April 30, 2019

Christine Ririe Borowski passed away on April 30, 2019 at the age of 74. Despite being a life-of-the-party type of person, at her request there will not be a funeral service or public viewing (she didn’t want people staring at her), only a graveside service. Her request for no obituary is being overlooked (maybe at great peril).

Christine Wilde was born in Magrath, Alberta on July 12, 1944, the first daughter to Wallace and Virginia Wilde. Two more daughters, Miriam and Susan, came along later to complete the family. Many of her fondest memories were of living on a farm a few miles outside of Raymond, Alberta where she enjoyed growing up with her ‘Wilde’ cousins who lived half a mile down the lane. The family moved to the bright lights of Raymond when she was around Grade 8.

Chris attended Rick’s College in Rexburg, Idaho for a year and then moved on to the larger social scene at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah.

Age 22 found her in Calgary, working for an insurance company. Chris enjoyed curling and her roommate Francis invited her to join a Catholic youth curling league. Well, the ‘Mormon’ girl ended up on Stan Borowski’s curling team which led to dating, a proposal and finally marriage on July 8, 1967. A honeymoon to Hawaii started their married life.

Chris was a stay-at-home mom for Patrick, Amber and Jade. While the kids were growing up, she demoed food products at the grocery stores on weekends and Friday nights. She smiled at the masses and handed out food samples. And then there was the “route.”  She worked tirelessly delivering The Bargain Finder newspaper every week, lugging those bundles of newspapers into her gold Mini Cooper and out to the businesses. She always wanted her kids to have a few extras. She sewed, cooked, camped, did crafts, church callings and set an example of a woman who was talented and devoted to her family and was a hard worker. It was in her genes.

As the kids grew older, a new adventure awaited her. Chris and her friend, Lin Snowdon, launched ‘The Old Curiosity Shoppe’ in Glenmore Landing. This popular and beloved tea room was to be her passion for the next 12 years. Following the shop’s closure, Chris and Lin ran a wedding decorating/catering business for a few years.

Family vacation time usually took them to British Columbia and the western United States in the Nomad travel trailer. Later in life, the trips were mostly to New Jersey and Colorado to visit her children.

Chris was diagnosed with MS while in her 30s, but that didn’t slow her down much until the last 5 years of her life. She had an outgoing and fun personality and was a faithful member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

Chris was a collector. People who knew her would recall her passion for baskets (100+) and hats (100+), several closets full of clothes, many, many shoes and an impressive collection of rings and jewelery as well as many hat boxes. The few times they had a garage sale, Stan was instructed not to sell any of her stuff. So, Stan has been quietly taking trips to Goodwill as well as being a regular contributor to charities collecting used clothes.

Chris liked buying “brand name” clothes but didn’t particularly like paying “brand name” prices. This led her to roam around places like Winners and TJ Maxx.

Christine is survived by her devoted husband of 50 years, Stan; sister, Susan; her children. Patrick (Jane), Amber (Jamie) and Jade (Jen) as well as 6 grandchildren and 3 great grandchildren.

A Graveside Service will be held at Okotoks Cemetery on Friday May 10 at 11:00 a.m. Please meet at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints Willow Park Chapel (940 Acadia Drive, Calgary) Procession will depart at 10:30 a.m.

Messages of condolence may be forwarded to the family at www.piersons.ca.

Filed Under: Family, Favorite Posts Tagged With:

A Backcountry Yurt Couple’s Retreat for Valentine’s Day!

February 19, 2019 By

Jamie and I spent one of my favorite Valentine’s Days ever in a backcountry yurt with five other couples.

The adventure started long before it began. A steady stream of storms threatened to derail our plans but the grandparents came a day early, for which I’m so grateful because they were able to take care of Bode when he got sick.  Then I-80 westbound closed but thankfully we turned off at the exit just before the closure.

Trip organizer Rob is Bode’s Scout master so I’m attuned to his craziness. I was a bit wary when he said it was a flat-ish 3.5-mile snowshoe into Beulah Vista a brand-new yurt on the east fork of the Bear River that is maintained in a cooperative venture between the U.S. Forest Service and BRORA in Uinta National Forest. I mean, I really like Rob but this is a guy who is a juxtaposition: he is a caring, encouraging Scout leader but has also been known to toughen them up when he takes picture if they cry during their expeditions. Would I be his next victim?

The Mirror Lake Scenic Byway is 78 miles between Wyoming Highway 150 and Utah State Road 150, but the middle portion is closed in the winter so we drove to Evanston. The freeway was still closed and it was a bit eerie as we wound through a tight tunnel of hundreds of semis parked along the road. We carb-loaded at Jody’s Diner before driving to the Lily Lake trailhead 45 minutes away in Utah.

(Andrew, Jessica, Me, Jamie, Jed, Nicole, Kristen, Rob, Leland, Lindsey, Jenny, Rod)

The piercing wind was biting when we arrived. We strapped on our snowshoes, grabbed our backpacks and slowly broke trail through huge swathes of wild coniferous landscape. As our heart rates increased, our body temperatures warmed and we shed layers…until the next time we left the trees and were exposed again. I have been snowshoeing. I have been backpacking. But I have never backpacked with snowshoes and though the trail was only moderate, I had just enough sensory bandwidth left when we arrived at our yurt 3.5 miles later as the wind and cold were being unleashed.

The yurt was cozy and clean, equipped with six bunk beds, a large table, propane stove, kitchen utensils and plenty of firewood for the wood-burning stove. It took a while for the yurt to warm up so we shivered off the cold as we unpacked and prepped for dinner. Rob served his mission in Thailand and served up a gourmet batch of yellow curry and rice for our Valentine’s Day feast….and a delicious breakfast of bacon, eggs and hashbrowns.

He is the most organized person alive but in his words, “I don’t do games” so he put me in charge of the fun. We played an ice-breaker, followed by a VERY revealing Newlywed Game that lasted until 10 p.m. where we laughed ’til we cried.

A few truths revealed:

Jessica and Andrew lived in Dubai for three years and most recently returned from a year abroad with their five kids where they traveled to 20+ countries. Favorite family tradition: throwing hard-boiled eggs at each other for Easter.

Rob and Kristen. Apparently Rob once kissed his cousin (on the lips). But the real show-stopper was when he was asked what would be his first purchase after winning the lottery. His response? A knife.

Jed and Nicole. Though they have been married almost 17 years, they bombed the Newlywed Game but we did learn he was the worst (black) Baptist minister ever and has a deep love for all the Rocky movies.  He was also great comic relief when he picked Jamie every time for the ice-breaker and when he played the Rocky theme song as our wake-up call the next morning.

Lindsey and Leland. He once peed on a pregnancy stick, she once owned 200 shoes and don’t ask either of them to perform “Sneaky Snake” in a talent show.

Jenny and Rod. She likes peace in the morning, he’s a wildman who mountain biked the Alps. We also learned getting busted for “make-out face”  by your parents is a bad thing when engaged.

Jamie and me. We were in our element with many incriminating stories but nothing brought down the house quite like his Meet the Parents: Sleepwalk Edition. “Don’t worry, I’m Jamie Johnson” was the inside joke the rest of the trip.

Some other memorable moments:

  • Leland terrifying me as I walked back from the outhouse. It was pitch-black and he was grabbing snow for water. Not wanting to alarm me, he spoke from the darkness, “Don’t worry, I’m over here.” Good thing I had already peed because I let out a blood-curdling scream that freaked everyone else out as well. I haven’t laughed that hard in years.

Leland: the predator

  • Jamie brought his disco globe nightlight and Jessica hung a string of white lights above her bunk for some mood lighting while Jed, a Tony Robbins-certified coach, led a discussion on forming meaningful connections in our relationships.

  • Rob (a prolific musician) serenaded us to sleep with his violin. Fiddler on the roof…errr. yurt.
  • It snowed all night, the perfect setting in our cozy yurt. I worried I would freeze but had the opposite problem and slept poorly because it was so warm from the wood-burning stove.
  • Kristen’s alarm went off at 6 a.m…and she was the only one who didn’t hear it because she was wearing earplugs. Bless Rod who climbed off the top bunk to turn it off–and bonked his head twice on the ceiling. Fortunately, we fell back asleep until 8 a.m.
  • We celebrated our 16th anniversary with the most stunningly pristine bluebird day with fresh views of Deadman Pass.

    • Rob rolling up his sleeping pad. I swear, it as smaller than when it arrived from the manufacturer.
    • Jessica and Andrew brought two sleds and hit the deep powder behind our yurt.  Rod hit a tree in a very memorable way; good thing they’re done having kids.

Our trek out was a lot different than the previous day. The temperatures were milder, the sun shone brighter and our packs were lighter so it was much easier to appreciate the scale and connectivity across our powder-perfect playground.

Our Valentine’s Day Retreat 2019 was one of those experiences that can be recreated but never relived.

Here’s to creating more experiences and to saying “yes” because you just never know when magic will happen.

Filed Under: Favorite Posts, Jamie, outdoors, travel, Utah

Christmas in Canada

February 13, 2019 By

Slowly but surely, I’m getting caught up here and I would be remiss if I didn’t post about our Canadian Christmas. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times but I’ll focus on the best.

1) Being there in the first place.  Special thanks to my friend Lisa who spotted the $300 direct flights to Calgary and to my dad who, instead of buying Christmas presents, chipped in for part of the fare. A Christmas miracle! Not so miraculous: our 24-hour ordeal getting back to SLC after our flight was canceled.

2) Being with my mom for her last Christmas at home. She is currently in the hospital and on the waiting list for a care facility. It has been a long time coming and we’re grateful my selfless dad has been able to care for her at home this long. She spends most of her day sleeping now but miraculously was awake for all Christmas Eve. She went out for Chinese food  with us one day and most moments spend with her were holding her hand, looking through her beloved Woman’s Day magazine recipes and bucolic scenes from her favorite calendar. Our final night before flying home, she was more lucid than she was the entire time we were in Canada and we saw a glimpse of that spitfire we know and love.

3) Christmas. A smorgasbord of food, left-right game, bells, besting Pat in Jenga, home theatre movies (“Crazy, Rich Asians” is a new favorite), naps and matching PJS. The gift exchange game was our most epic ever with three people who bought Pimple Pete (we have zit-loving issues), Jade’s camo marshmallow blowgun and Pat’s Presidents Putin and Trump socks. Borowski Family Christmas: alternately promoting chaos and world peace. 4) Ice, ice, baby. The weather was so warm leading up to our visit I had resigned myself I wouldn’t be able to  do any of my favorite winter activities. Quite unbelievably, our lakes and rivers did freeze over so we were able to play hockey with cousin Conner, my dad, Jade and a few pee wee kids at Lake Bonavista. Bode found his calling as goalie, as did I after a near concussion making a slapshot (I scored!) Bowness Park is a Canadian party on skates! We joined the throngs of people to circle the lake but the real fun began after we crossed the barriers to skate the river for a few miles. Canadian fun at its best! And another family favorite: Fish Creek Provincial Park. In the summer, it’s the mud pits and swimming. In the winter: Cautious Bode and Dallas (the dog) only had minor heart attacks about walking on the cracking ice. Also, what a difference a few years makes! 5) Troll Falls Insider tip #1: Skip Banff and recreate next door in Kananaskis Country—same gorgeous Rocky Mountains without the crowds and cost. Insider tip #2: When hiking steep, icy sections, link arms in a “love chain.” When someone starts to wipe out (like your brother) ditch him, even if it prompts his rebuke, “WHAT HAPPENED TO THE LOVE CHAIN?” Insider tip #3: When you say, “I feel like I’m the only sane one in the family,” make sure your mom is not editing the group picture at that exact moment where you look certifiably insane with your mouth wide open.

Insider tip #4: Despite teens often being really boring and glued to their technology, those reduced brain cells make for exciting moments when they attempt to scale a waterfall without spikes. Insider tip #5: Remember that being a pleasant teenager is hard work, as demonstrated by your daughter after your epic adventure, “I started to get a headache from my delightfulness.”

4. New Year’s Eve was replete with family, my bestie, Stacey, chocolate, cheese and meat fondue (which is to be repeated for Valentine’s Day), not be forgotten was marathon Pictionary when the team with the worst artists (Bode and me) somehow won. Christmas is, after all, a time for miracles.

Filed Under: Bode, Canada, Family, Family travel, Favorite Posts, Hadley

Family travel: Central California’s Untouched Grandeur

November 13, 2017 By

I’ve been busy wrapping up an article about our trip to Central California for fall break. It truly was a breath of fresh air after what feels like a year of non-stop stress.

Not-so airy? The long drive to get there.

Las Vegas is my least favorite place on earth but the kids have never been there. It marked the halfway point so we gave into Hadley’s pleas and made a quick detour. As we were cruising along The Strip, we noticed the car was making funny noises. Now, some of you might remember the nightmare-that-was-last-summer, my Honda Pilot’s steady demise and the thousands of dollars in repairs we’re still paying off as it sits in our garage, undriveable. And if our Pilot is sitting on our garage waiting for us to pay off last summer’s bills while we scrape together enough money to get a newer one, that means it was Jamie’s car we were driving that was having problems.

Oh, the joys never end.

Fortunately, it was only the water pump that went out and was relatively easy $600 fix. Three hours later, we were back on the road, which made for a REALLY long, miserable drive that made me wonder “is this really worth it?”

Thankfully, Central California was that and so much more.

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Central California: A Wonderland of Untouched Beaches, Castles and Dunes

We leaned into our strokes, our kayaks carving across Morro Bay and onto the flanks of Morro Dunes Natural Preserve. In a flash, Hadley and Bode were gone. It took them a few minutes to resurface and I chuckled as I saw them jumping, rolling and skiing down each peaked dune. Since entering middle school, I’ve mourned that their childhood is slipping away but for this eclipse in time, they were kids again.

My family traveled to San Luis Obispo County along the coastal Highway 1 for fall break. When I told people where we were going, they queried “San Luis Obispo…where?”

Located halfway between San Francisco and Orange County, this untouched region in Central California is  known for the dramatic Hearst Castle with the Pacific to the West, 100+ wineries in the San Joaquin Valley to the east and a smattering of quaint coastal villages in between. With the recent announcement of United Airlines’ direct flights from Denver to San Luis Obispo (SLO to locals), it’s more accessible than ever.

San Luis Obispo and the Madonna Inn

From the moment my friend Jennie told me her parents honeymooned at the Madonna Inn, “the quirkiest, pinkest hotel in the world,” my bucket list was formed. This outlandish landmark hotel in San Luis Obispo looks like the Mad Hatter was set loose in Casa Bonita with 110 themed rooms, a world-famous waterfall urinal and an onslaught of hot pink everything–carpets, marble, lamps and leather booths and their fluffy Pink Champagne Cake made with Guittard pink chocolate. Not everything here is sensory overload; located on 1,000 acres of coastal hills, you’ll find a serene horse pasture, the Secret Garden bursting with flowers and a European-style pool with a 45-foot waterfall.

Our mantra was Go Big or Go Home so we blew half our travel budget to stay in the rooftop Sky Room, a two-story muted-blue family suite with textured white clouds and a carved staircase to the second level that looked down on flamboyant chandeliers. The real show-stopper was the bidet in the bathroom; potty breaks have never been so…refreshing! This 50-year-old kitschy inn shows signs of its age but guaranteed, it’s one stay you’ll never forget.

Not far away, you’ll discover a gem among the historic Spanish California missions.  Named after Saint Louis of Anjou, the bishop of Toulouse, the Mission San Luis Obispo is a must-see for history buffs.  We stopped by the famed Bubblegum Alley in the heart of downtown San Luis Obispo for bubblegum graffiti that is every germaphobe’s worst nightmare and left our own sticky mark on this collective work of art.  The city is home to Cal Poly and downtown SLO’s tree-lined streets, unique cafes and the Thursday night Farmer’s Market cater to that cool college-town vibe.

Day 1: Charming Cambria and a Castle on a Hill

I like my oceans like my mountains: wild, untouched and au naturel. San Luis Obispo’s quirky coastal villages and large stretches of the Pacific Ocean devoid of development are in stark contrast to the glitz and glam of California’s big cities. A local proudly told us, “This area is what Santa Barbara was 30 years ago and we want to keep it that way.” Even the tourists are different here and mostly consist of Californians or visitors passing through while driving the Pacific Coast Highway.

We only had an afternoon tour of the Hearst Castle scheduled so our plan was no plan of all. We drove north on California State Route 1 and soon stumbled upon Cambria, a seaside village nestled in the pines that was brimming with a brigade of 400 whimsical scarecrows for the Cambria Scarecrow Festival. And these weren’t just my genre of straw-and-farmer’s-clothing scarecrows. These were masterful works of art–Rip Van Winkle and cyclists with motorized wheels–a testament to this Victorian community that is teeming with artisans, unique shops, eateries and bed and breakfasts.

All the beaches in the 20-mile segment north of Cambria are part of Hearst San Simeon State Park with thirteen different beaches from Santa Rosa Creek on Moonstone Drive in Cambria to the southern Big Sur Coast. Many of them are hidden gems including Moonstone Beach’s brown sandy coves where you’ll find tide pools and semi-precious jasper stones of all colors. We followed the ridgeline, winding down to the beach where the wild spray elicited sheer glee. For land-locked kids, it doesn’t get much better than this. 

Hearst Castle is a National Historic Landmark perched above the clouds atop The Enchanted Hill. Built by publishing magnet William Randolph Hearst, this 165-room castle is a must-visit destination with various guided tours available. Our jaws were agape as we marveled at the opulence of his personal art collection and stunning architecture. The Refectory was reminiscent of the Great Hall of Hogwarts and its very own home theater broadcast (you guessed it) Heart’s news specials.  As we strolled the 127 acres of terraced gardens and fountains with wraparound views of the sunny Central Coast it was no surprise this is one of California’s most visited state parks.

A mere four miles north of Hearst Caste on Highway 1, the Elephant Seal Rookery is home to about 15,000 Northern Elephant Seals that migrate thousands of miles twice each year where they breed, birth, molt and rest between trips. We chuckled at the laziness and middle-school drama between the seals but after learning about the perilous conditions they endure for 8-10 months in the ocean, they’ve earned it. Teenagers? Another story.

We drove south and checked in to the newly redesigned and renovated 456 Embarcadero Inn & Suites, home for the next two nights. After the ostentatious Madonna Inn, this 33-room boutique hotel was a refreshing juxtaposition and we were delighted to learn its ties to Colorado–the owner spent a number of years in Durango. Our spacious two-bedroom family suite overlooked Morro Bay and the town’s quaint shops and eateries were all within walking distance. We fell asleep that night to the lull of the waves and the harbor seals barking at the yellow, gibbous moon.

( 456 Embarcadero Inn & Suites’ Ideal Location)

Day 2: Morro Bay’s Magic

Morro Bay is best known for Morro Rock, an ancient volcanic mound that stands sentry over Morro Bay State Park, home to lagoons, trails and a bird-rich saltwater marsh.  The next morning, we met John Flaherty of  Central Coast Outdoors for our half-day guided kayaking tour. Locally renowned for his kayaking, biking and hiking tours of San Luis Obispo, Big Sur and the Central Coast, we were in good hands.

After a thorough skills debriefing, we navigated around sea otters to a heron preserve with crows wheeling overhead.  John pointed out the crustaceans’ indentations in the mud flats. “Morro Bay is one of the few estuaries left in California,” he divulged. “Thanks to the many state parks along Central California’s coastline, these areas have been preserved.  That’s what makes it truly special here.”

Understatement. CLICK TO KEEP READING

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Filed Under: Family travel, Favorite Posts, travel

That time we were featured in the Wall Street Journal

May 17, 2017 By

A few weeks ago my friend Eileen Ogintz, founder of Taking The Kids and a syndicated columnist, emailed to ask if I could put the word out to my friends that a reporter from the Wall Street Journal was looking to interview families who let their kids help plan the vacation. I put the word out on Facebook but nobody responded so I acquiesced to be interviewed by Sue Shellenbarger. I really didn’t think much would come of it–maybe she’d include a quote in her article–until she emailed me again in a panic saying her editor wanted her to interview my kids as well. So on Friday after school, Bode and Hadley casually talked to the a reporter from the biggest newspaper in the United States. No biggie.

If you are questioning the reliability of journalism in this day and age, rest assured the Wall Street Journal is the most fact-checked newspaper I’ve ever seen. For our small quotes in the article, Sue emailed me several times.

Anyway, here’s the link to Dare to Let the Children Plan Your Vacation and I’ll include screenshots and our quotes below.

And yes, Bode totally talks like a 40-year-old man.

 

 

The Johnson family of Denver is planning a car trip to western Colorado this summer. Amber Johnson says her daughter Hadley, 12, persuaded the family to go jet-boating, racing over the Colorado River at speeds of up to 40 miles an hour in boats driven by professionals.

It’s a plan Ms. Johnson and her husband Jamie would never have chosen for the family. But Hadley sees children’s museums as cheesy. “I’m kind of growing up and everything,” Hadley says. “I’m a little more crazy and adventurous than museums.”

Bode, 10, says he was nervous at first about jet-boating. But Ms. Johnson reassured him that the boats have seat belts and life jackets. Now he’s on board with the plan. “I think I might actually learn something, including having a positive attitude and being willing to do new things,” he says.

Giving the children a voice keeps them excited and interested, Ms. Johnson says. It also means suffering through their mistakes. Bode and Hadley picked a hotel online for a road trip last summer because it had a big pool, says Ms. Johnson, editor of Mile High Mamas, an online community. She suggested they might want to do more research, but “they jumped on it because it looked really fun,” Ms. Johnson says.

When they arrived, the pool was closed for renovation. Ms. Johnson sees such “soft failures,” or missteps with minor consequences, as learning experiences. “We would call ahead and do more research” next time, Hadley says.

 


Filed Under: Bode, Family travel, Favorite Posts, Hadley, Utah

Confessions of a (Horrible) Cat and Fish Sitter

April 12, 2017 By

My friend Jana was looking for someone to check in on her cat and fish over Spring Break so I volunteered my middle schooler Hadley. She loves animals and her career aspiration in first grade was to run a Cat Hotel until she later learned it’s not cool to be the crazy cat lady until you’re over 50 years old.

I figured she’d be better equipped to take care of animals since she got off to a rocky start babysitting humans when my friend Sarah asked her:

“Hey, Hadley. Do you babysit?”

“I’m not really good with kids.”

As a former publicist, I was appalled at her pitch.  She later told me she was caught off-guard and meant to say I’m not comfortable taking care of babies. She repented of her trespass by volunteering to watch Sarah’s kids for free while she attended a church event. Hadley limped through the door several hours later.

“How was it?”

“Exhausting. I spent the entire night running around after three boys. How do you do this EVERYDAY?”

And suddenly, the heavens opened and the herald angels sang the Hallelujah shout to the tune of “PAYBACK” for all those sleepless, colicky nights.

As it turns out, she enjoys babysitting (or at least the money she makes) so how much better would a gig be for beasts you don’t have to chase?

Hadley’s responsibilities were simple. Replenish Kitty’s food and water every day, clean the kitty litter box and feed the fish. Jana hadn’t formed an attachment to Fishy and went as far as to say she wouldn’t be sad if he didn’t survive, which made us wonder if we were hired to be fish sitters or assasins. Jana told us we probably wouldn’t even see Kitty who accesses the house via a cat door after partying all night with her feline friends and sleeps all day. Easiest cat-sitting gig ever.

Or was it?

Day 1: Hadley opens garage door, goes about her responsibilities with Kitty. Starts to feed Fishy. He is dead.

Or is he?

We text Jana to ask if we should give him a watery burial. She responds, “He sometimes just looks dead and doesn’t move for a while.”

Cool fish.

Day 2: Fishy appears dead in a different position so we figure he’s still alive in his own way. No sign of Kitty but food has been eaten so we’re in business.

Day 3:  Fishy is moving. It’s an Easter resurrection miracle.

Days 4 and 5: Hadley stays at Grandma’s so I take over duties. All seems in order.

Day 6: Hadley continues her responsibilities. Goes to enter mudroom via the garage but the door is locked, which means we can’t access the house and that I was the person who inadvertently locked it the day before. Panic sets in but fortunately, Kitty’s food and water are in the garage so we can take care of her. Tragically, Fishy will go from resurrection to famine within three days. The irony is not lost on me.

Day 7: When we arrive THE GARAGE DOOR IS ALREADY OPEN. “We closed it when we left yesterday, I’m 100% sure of it,” Hadley wails.

We hesitantly make our way through the garage to the mudroom door, which mysteriously opens. Even though it’s been less than 24 hours since our last visit, Fishy appears really dead this time and is floating on his side at the bottom of the bowl. We feed him anyway because he’s a master manipulator and as we’re attempting to leave the house, we realize the doorknob will not budge and we’re locked inside with a fish who could come to life at any moment.

It takes a few panicked minutes until we position the doorknob just right and we make our escape…but not before I put something in the door jam for the next time we get locked out. Or in. Really, the whole thing is confusing.

I hesitantly text Jana that we were able to get back in the house.

“Oh, our friend needed to grab something today,” she responds. “He probably left the garage door open! I also remembered that mudroom door is sometimes hard to open, so you have to twist the knob really hard.”

Hallelujah shout Take 2.

Day 8: Fishy confirmed dead and Kitty is alive. Allegedly. We didn’t see her all week but she ate all her food. It was probably for the best because we saw Fishy every day and look what happened to him.

Day 9: Jana’s family returns home. Hallelujah shout Take 3 as we are relieved of our pet sitting duties.

When I was relaying the tale of our memorable Spring Break to my son Bode, I joked, “Don’t you want to be a pet sitter?”

“I think I could have done a better job than you and Hadley,” he retorted.

The [low] bar has been set.

P.S. Did I mentioned we’re available for hire?

Filed Under: Favorite Posts, Hadley, Humor, Uncategorized

Welcome to 2017: A year of healing, hope and discovery

January 1, 2017 By

From the offset, I knew 2016 would be a tough year as we walked away from a beautiful life we spent 13 years building into a wilderness of unknowns. At times, I’ve thrived and reached summits I never thought possible. Other times, I’ve faltered and have struggled to carve out a new existence. I’ve been so busy getting unpacked and starting a new job over these last months (while still juggling the old one) that I’ve neglected what makes me happy. Being outdoors. Writing about travel. Building friendships. Communing with God.

I talked to Jamie about some of my frustrations this week and he consoled me to be kind to myself. “We’ve had a hard year. We’ve been in survival mode.”

But now that we’re a lot more settled, I’m feeling restless to delve in. To explore. To befriend. To eat healthier. To build new communities and networks. So much of the Midway area is unknown and brimming with possibilities. I’ve been uncharacteristically placid. Paralyzed in the past and present. I injured my left knee a few months ago running down the Mid-mountain Trail in Park City and it is still giving me problems. Couple that with my other arthritic knee and I’ve been slow to rehabilitate and figure out a new lifestyle that nurtures healing.

A few years ago, I read an article about adventure racer Amelia Boone. Since the sport’s inception, she’s amassed more than 30 victories and 50 podiums. In the 2012 World’s Toughest Mudder competition, which lasted 24 hours, she finished 2nd OVERALL out of 1,000+ competitors. This was ahead of every male except the winner, who beat her by just 8 minutes.

When she was asked why she was so successful in obstacle racing, she replied,

“I’m not the fastest, and I’m not the strongest, but I’m REALLY good at suffering.”

Persistence. Endurance. Never giving up.

I’ve certainly never been at Amelia’s elite level but being an athlete has been part of my identity. Even from a young age, I would torture myself with sprints up and down the gully. I’d slog through the deep snow in the golf course. I’d leap-frog off my long jumping leg for hours on the trampoline. Last year was the first time in my life (besides my mission and late in my pregnancies) that I haven’t had a regular workout routine because I’ve been at a loss for what to do. I’m bored to tears by low-impact yoga, swimming and Pilates so I’ve barely done anything since we moved to Midway.

It was with great interest I followed Amelia’s journey this year after a serious injury. How would a champion who thrives on being on top of the podium cope with her rehabilitation? She recently wrote an article that has become my blueprint for this year, “A Year of Healing.” You won’t regret taking a few minutes to read it if you’ve ever been smacked in the face with the need to change but here are a few excerpts.

On April 26th of this year, a few days after the whole “broken femur” thing started, I picked up a copy of Cheryl Strayed’s book “Brave Enough.” I flipped to a page, and this stared at me:

I promptly ripped this page (and one more, which you’ll see if you make it all the way through this novel of a post) and taped it to my bathroom mirror, as a theme for my recovery journey. Granted, the journey has been much longer than I anticipated, but can be summed up with two themes: gratitude and acceptance.

When I first sat down to write this post, I titled it “2016: A Year of Injury.” But the more I wrote, I realized that, yes – I could look at this as a year of injury. Or I could look at this as a year of healing – body and mind. So that’s what I choose to do.

….People always talk about the physical part of injury. The physical part is easy. It’s the mental part that will eat you alive. Wondering if every ache and pain is a new catastrophic injury, or a massive setback from the prior. Worrying that your body is going to betray you…forever. And trying to have the patience and trust to weather the painfully slow rebuilding process.

…..2016 didn’t go as planned, to say the least. From laying out my most ambitious and exciting race schedule ever a year ago, to not even competing in a single obstacle race. From logging my highest mileage months ever, to not running a step for 9 months. From feeling the strongest I ever have as an athlete, to feeling the absolute weakest. Yes, 2016 was a doozy.

But you know what? It has been, by far, my most personally fulfilling year ever. Maybe being unable to physically run from my problems forced me to confront them, and do the deep work that is so easy to abandon when times are good. Maybe I had to be physically weak and broken to become emotionally strong. And while I don’t have it all figured out, maybe life put a “pause” button in front of me to allow me to do so.

To say it was a sucker punch when you are already down for the count is a bit of an understatement. But amidst the tears, my friend (and life twin!) Caroline asked me a question which I thought was rather silly at the time: “Amelia, did you ACCEPT your injury? With the femur?” And I retorted “of course I have, Burckle. It’s hard to not when you are on crutches for 3+ months.”

But what I realized is that while I couldn’t ignore the physical injury, I did everything I could to cross-train around it. I fought like hell to maintain my fitness. I denied that my training methods were wrong, or that they may have been the source of the injury. I did everything to pretend it was just a few months off, and my training would resume as normal after a clean bill showing no fracture. For months, I kept lamenting about being worried about “getting back to the place where I was.” When instead, I should have accepted that I’m NEVER going to return to “where I was,” and that’s actually the LAST place I should want to go. Instead, I need to move forward, accept that I’m never going to be the same athlete, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Now, the end of December, a month into a return to run program (until the careful guidance of Coach David…#rawr) from the second stress fracture, I finally feel like I’ve reached the point where I’ve accepted that I’m not trying to “get back” anywhere. And I’m probably never going to train how I used to train, but that’s OK. Because I have faith that, with the perspective and knowledge, I’ll train better.

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My frustrations with 2016 aren’t just about my injuries (though that has definitely been a part of it). I need to figure out what my new normal will be–for my family, my new career path and my health. I’ll never return to “where I was” and I need to become more OK with that.  Because things are still good, even great.

Instagram has an algorithm that compiles your nine most popular posts of the year. I posted the following on Facebook yesterday:

It was almost exactly a year ago that we made the decision to move for no apparent reason, during which time Jamie prophetically announced “2016 is going to suck.” I find it interesting that we started, ended and spent the majority of our year in Colorado but most of my #2016bestnine moments are in Midway. Because despite all the hard stuff of goodbyes and stresses, there were new friends, rainbow sunrises, joyous reunions and golden vistas. 2016 was a lesson in faith, sacrifice and growth but 2017 will be about finding our place here. I’ve learned not to take any mundane or magical moment for granted. Life comes and goes, just long enough for us to witness the sublime, the glory, but only if we take the time to look and listen.

I may be limping into 2017 (literally and figuratively) but my life’s creed resonates more than ever: “When you’re falling on your face you’re actually moving forward.”

I’m coming for you, 2017, face-plants and all.

Filed Under: Favorite Posts, Health
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