INTRODUCTIONIn 2015, three years after the first edition of this book was published, I convinced my wife, B. B. Hardbody, that the Belching Beast was no longer fit to carry our Bigfoot truck camper. I argued that we needed a bigger rig, something that had a bed we could get out of without crawling over each other, something that would carry all of the essential items for a wilderness camping trip. To wit: satellite television (preferably one for the living area and one for the bedroom), microwave oven, hot and cold running water, shower large enough to wash your back without tripping over the toilet; those sorts of things.
So we ended up with a 25-foot motorhome, which was actually about a foot shorter than the Beast with the Bigfoot atop. We set out that year in our new ride to revisit all the wild places we had found along the roads in this book, only to discover low-hanging branches, narrow roads and paint-scratching brush. We also discovered something called “Class B” motorhomes.
They seemed to be everywhere: on a trip near Bend, Oregon, we passed more Volkswagen vans than I knew still existed, heading to a rally called “Descend on Bend.” Shortly after, COVID came along and it seemed to me that a heretofore unknown byproduct of the virus was an uncontrollable desire to join #vanlife. Not simply in a bunch of old VW buses and Vanagons, but in a bevy of new cargo vans from Ford, Mercedes, and Fiat. While life around the COVID-stricken cities and burbs sucked, life on the road seemed safe and enjoyable.
The pandemic is officially over, thank goodness, but the urge to get away—to find your own little parking spot by the stream, mountain top, forest glade or desert retreat—continues to flourish. In 2017, campers could still find spots at many U.S. Forest Service and National Park campgrounds without snagging a reservation months in advance. That’s pretty much a thing of the past, these days.
But thanks to the wild roads outlined here, you can still discover those diverse campsites and smaller forest campgrounds that aren’t as popular or well-known as the biggies. They are no less enjoyable, often quieter, and maybe best of all, not quite as costly as most of the overnighting areas you’ll read about elsewhere.
As you’ll see, this isn’t a campground guide. It’s a map to the roads that will take you to past many of the spots that will reach out to you and say “Why not stop here for the night? I’ve got a gurgling stream to sing you to sleep.” It will direct you past base camps from which you can hike, paddle or pedal.
The first edition of
Wild Roads Washington offered a slew of backcountry routes that were West of the Cascades, and far less on the Eastern side of the state. I’ve tried to change that by adding five new roads in the least populated areas of Washington. You might be surprised to find that they include sections on state highways, and you might argue they are anything but “wild” roads.
But the fact is that the new routes on state and county roads in Eastern Washington often carry less traffic than several of the most popular U.S. Forest roads on the West side of the state. You needn’t drive far to get away from it all if you live, say, in Pomeroy or Kettle Falls. Another plus: the sun is more likely to shine on your gravity chair.
Another question you might be asking is “Why should I drive 30 (or 230) miles to visit a route that is only 18 miles long?”
The answer is what this book is all about. As anyone who steers a motorized vehicle along highways has discovered, it’s almost as much fun in getting there as being there. It’s what makes life on the road—wild or tame—worth the trip.
So, may it come up to meet you.
Copyright © 2024 by Blair Jr., Seabury. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
