I snagged the last camping spot in Leavenworth...

From N.
I haven't totally given up on backpacking, but it's easy to think of all the reasons to avoid it: bear bags, 40-pound packs, simple food that's maybe even freeze-dried, less prep and repacking of bags. Wine weighs a lot.

By comparison, car camping is total luxury. Although I'm pretty bare bones compared to the RVs that roll around with full set-ups including tables, canopies with mosquito netting and grills. Here's my tent.

Backpacking gets you deep into the wilderness, but car camping still gets you two to three hours closer to amazing hikes. This past weekend, my friend L. and I headed to Leavenworth, the uber kitschy Bavarian town set in stunning scenery two and a half hours from Seattle. We were there to get a taste of the Alpine Lakes that are the entryway to the popular Enchantments, which is, you know, overrun with backpackers.

My friends and I are always last-minute about camping. We tend to drive someplace, cross our fingers and look for camp sites. I think Leavenworth has more rock climbers and families camping than any place in the state. Seriously. We drove through four full campgrounds on Icicle Creek Road before a guy waved us down at Ida Creek, the very last campground on the road. He told us to wait for the people clearing out of spot 5. If that site wasn't open, I'm not sure what we would have done. Possibly panic.

We set up my tent, then took a stroll along Icicle Creek, exerting ourselves just enough to tell ourselves we deserved our hamburger dinner. But first, L. set us up with an adorable oilcloth tablecloth on the picnic table and even lit colorful citronella tea candles to try and dissuade the bugs. It didn't work on the bees.

While she got the fire going, I made hamburgers on my camp stove. There ain't no hamburgers when you backpack. I seasoned the patties with salt and pepper, then pan-fried them on my stove. Our patties were cradled in buttered, grilled brioche buns lathered with mustard and then topped with melted cheddar, lettuce, tomatoes from L.'s garden and sliced crunchy pickles. Hamburgers are awesome anywhere, but they are unspeakably awesome in the woods. We ate it along with a delicious potato salad with olive oil and herbs L. made and Caesar salad from a bag. We finished off the night with dark chocolate wafers and some Maker's Mark in front of a fire. Car camping totally wins.

The next day, we sprinted past the backpackers with our featherlight daypacks on the 4.5-mile trail to Lake Stuart at the foot of Mount Stuart. The moderate trail is gorgeous, winding along a creek in a dappled forest before opening up to alpine vistas. We ended with lunch by the lake. It was quite perfect.

The backpackers are headed past these peaks into the Enchantments. So I'm maybe, slightly, just a little bit jealous. I could probably be convinced to do it. Sigh. Maybe backpacking wins.

I have a teenage vampire-related confession...

From N.

I'm entranced with teenage drama. I have this terrible addiction to teen tv shows, good (Friday Night Lights, Veronica Mars, Gossip Girl and don't you dare argue otherwise) and bad (Laguna Beach, NYC Prep). I can't wait to see the new Harry Potter movie and am contemplating re-reading the "Half-Blood Prince."

So, yeah, I've been reading the "Twilight" series too. I'm finally on the fourth book "Breaking Dawn." Stephenie Meyer's writing style tormented me just enough that it has taken awhile, although I admire her gift for narrative.
But the really scary thing about the vampire book is how much the Forks-based series has gotten into my head about that area of Washington state. When I drove through Port Angeles to get to Lake Crescent for a June camping trip, the visions in my head were not the gorgeous scenery or area author Raymond Carter, but rather vampire Edward and teenage Bella. Edward saving Bella from assault in the mean streets of Port Angeles. Edward and Bella eating at a Port Angeles Italian restaurant. Edward speeding Bella back to Forks on Highway 101. Visions of Twilight fanatics invading the quiet town of Forks. Bella and Jacob out at La Push on the beach.

I've gone completely mad.

I'm wrapped up in the final book. The plot is pretty intense and the book is keeping me up late at night. But this is the last we shall speak of this. Until my next trip to the OP.

I went camping at Lake Crescent....

From N.

I always worry about campsites whenever I go car camping. I've spent many a holiday weekend driving in slow circles around a campground, fingers crossed that I'll find a site. I almost always do, but every time I tell myself to reserve a site before I head out. After I discovered the state park online reserving system, I started obsessing about staying at a state park and contemplating staying at Battleground Lake, even though I had no idea where it was. A. told me to stop being obsessing and being Patty Planner. It was going to be fine.

He was right. A chance of thunderstorms east of the Cascades drove us west. We headed out to the OP (the Olympic Peninsula), aiming for Fairholm campground on the far west end of Lake Crescent. (The lake is west of Port Angeles about three hours via Bainbridge Ferry.) We discovered a tent-only area on the shore, and staked the tent with this view.

I have to admit I sort of dragged A out to the woods. He calls camping sleeping in rocks and dirt and hiking ridiculous. He also needs some critical gear, like an air mattress so you aren't actually sleeping among the rocks. But he humored me for this trip because I love both and wanted him to do it with me. And once we got to Lake Crescent, which is stunningly beautiful, we had shared ADD: we wanted to rent a rowboat, we wanted to go on a walk, we wanted to go to Sol Duc hot springs.

We found out rowboating was 7 miles away at Lake Crescent Lodge, and the hot springs cost more than we wanted to spend. So we went on a leisurely walk and admired the turquoise waters before settling in with burgers and Caesar salad from a bag and a campfire.

It wasn't the most comfortable night on hard ground, but on Sunday, A. still insisted he wanted to go on a strenuous hike with me. I gave him one: Pyramid Peak was 2,500 feet elevation and 7 miles round trip. But the views at the top were worth the sweat and blisters, even if A. also came out with a scraped-up knee.

But he says he'll do it again. I win.