Lake Chelan, WA 2013 - Day 1

At 4:00 AM, my alarm screamed at me that it was time to get up and hit the road.  We were driving to Lake Chelan and wanted to get an early start to our vacation.  The car was already loaded, the house was clean, and everything was in order.  Except for one thing—I could not, for the life of me, remember Wilt Chamberlain’s name.  I don’t know why I woke up thinking about him, and I know this has absolutely no relevance to my story, but the fact that I couldn’t remember his name drove me nuts.  I asked Chad, “who was the basketball player from the 1960s?  Like, around Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s time?”  Chad didn’t know; in fact, he’d barely been awake long enough to wipe the sleep from his eyes and remember who I was, let alone some basketball player from over forty years ago.  So I thought I would help spark his memory by describing Mr. Chamberlain: “He was tall and black and he played basketball.”  Surprisingly, my detailed description didn't narrow it down and Chad proved useless.  I began to obsess about remembering his name on my own, without using the internet.  It wasn’t until we pulled onto Highway 18 that I finally broke down and looked it up on my phone.  Ah, yes, of course... Wilt Chamberlain.  Now my vacation could officially begin.  

It was a 3 ½ hour drive to Lake Chelan, and we stopped only once for coffee at the summit at Snoqualmie Pass.  Once we arrived in Chelan, our first stop was the Sunshine Farm Market to buy some locally grown cherries.  We fed the baby goats, momentarily fantasized about being farmers, and then drove to the rental house.

Sometimes I think I missed my calling in life...

I believe I was meant to own baby goats.

Local Rainier Cherries.  

 My mom rented a house on the north shore of Lake Chelan, and invited us to join her for a few days.  Leah, Kenny, and Heather took the RV (along with two dogs and a cat) and drove over a day early.   It was 9:30 when we arrived, and they all greeted us cheerfully.  We chose our rooms (Ali quickly arranged her things in the cupboard under the stairs, just like Harry Potter), and then Leah immediately sat the kids down and read an article aloud that she felt would help them enjoy their weekend at the lake.

The article told the story of an event that happened on November 26, 1945.  A school bus carrying twenty students lost control in a snow storm and plunged into Lake Chelan killing the driver and fifteen children.  One woman and five children escaped.  The point Leah was trying to make with my kids was this:  Although the bus and some of the bodies were eventually recovered, there are still nine children at the bottom of the lake.  Obviously after hearing that, we couldn't get to the lake fast enough, so we put on our suits, gathered our towels, and piled in the van to go search for those missing children.  The lake is 55 miles long and 1,486 feet deep – I’m pretty sure the odds were in our favor.

Leah and Heather had reserved two mopeds for the weekend.  We dropped them off at the rental place, certain that we were going to hear on the news that two women on mopeds caused the single worst traffic accident Washington State has ever seen.  The rest of us bought food at the market, went to the lake, and had a picnic in the shade under a willow tree.  Chad and the kids swam, while my mom and I sat in the sun, my mom asking every nine seconds, “Can you see Jackson?  I can’t see him.  Rachel, I don’t want him to disappear on the other side of that dock.  Can Alison swim?  Is anyone watching Ashley?” 

Pre-swim picnic

Soon, we heard what sounded exactly like The Road Runner from the Wile E. Coyote cartoons.  Actually, it sounded like two road runners.  It was far off in the distance, growing louder by the second.  And that could only mean one thing:  Leah and Heather had found us.  They stopped for a quick hello and then they were off, to wreak havoc on this poor town.

Please, God, spare the people of this great town.

Eventually the clouds moved in, and with them came the rain.  Big thick drops splattered us as we ran back to the van and it was nothing short of awesome.  We were unable to locate the school bus children, but there's always tomorrow.  Back at home we were surprised when Leah and Heather arrived alive, unscratched, and the mopeds still intact.  They proudly showed off the new doo-rags they purchased to go with their mopeds, and regaled us with stories of high adventure out on the road.

We spent some time relaxing at the house before our next outing.  This time, Kenny and Chad stayed with the kids, while we women drove to Tsillan Cellars to try our hand at wine-tasting.   Tsillan Cellars is a gorgeous winery on the shores of Lake Chelan.  It has a Tuscan-feel complete with gorgeous manicured gardens, Italian themed décor—come to think of it—it was like an upscale Olive Garden, which is the closest I've ever been to Italy.  My mom opted out of the wine-tasting, preferring to stroll around the winery and shop.  Leah, Heather and I paid the $5 fee for 5 tastings (we quickly learned they are called tastings, they are not called samples, you poor uneducated dolt!), received a tasting menu and began our voyage into the world of wine snobbery.  I love trying new things… most of the time.  But guess what I don’t love?  Wine-tasting.  Maybe I’m just not ready to buy into it.  The nose has aromas of spring flowers and strawberry-banana taffy...  Really?  I don’t taste it.  It mingles well with the river rock nuances...  Are you for real? Well, if you say so.  Perhaps reading the article, "Wine Tasting is BullS^!*" jaded me a bit:

Click here to read the intriguing article

As we were driving through town, Leah announced from the backseat while pointing out the window, “There’s the laundromat where I had to wash my sleeping bag when I camped here with Darla because I wet the bed.” 

“How old were you?” asked Heather.

“[pause] Sixteen,” Leah said.

The four of us had a really great time being together, cracking each other up and driving around looking at wineries. We had reservations for dinner, so we had to go home, get ready, and pick up Chad.  Kenny stayed with the kids at the house and we ordered pizza for them.  The rest of us drove two minutes down the road to Vin Du Lac.  Vin Du Lac is a beautiful winery inspired by the owner’s travels to France.  Bistro tables were scattered about a garden setting, in the grass and on paved patios.  Stringed lights hung between the trees and there was a little gazebo where musicians perform.  We enjoyed a dinner of French onion soup, spinach and pear salad, and Copper River salmon.  The setting was so peaceful, and very reminiscent of the French country (having never been anywhere near France, I’ll have to take their word for it). 

Karma Winery - They were preparing for a wedding

Jessie contemplating life and rocks

After a quick stop at the grocery store for breakfast items, we drove home.  Leah and Heather buckled their tiny helmets on their heads and took off again, to who-knows-where.  We sat on the porch, watching the lake, watching the sky turn a dark, firey-pink, and watching the sun set behind the hills.  Thankful to be here, and to live in such a magnificent state.  The intermittent beeping of the moped horns reassured me that my sisters were alive and well, and warned the rest of the Chelan motorists to beware: The girls have those suckers for two more days.

- The Niemeyers