From the wide-open arms of Vancouver, I headed south to Seattle—a city that I thought would be just a quick stop on the itinerary. Turns out, the universe had other plans, and I ended up staying far longer than expected. Why, you ask? Because in a stroke of serendipity, I finally managed to get a hold of my dear friend Kelsey Noonan, someone I hadn’t seen since our Afghanistan days. And by “get a hold,” I mean I realized I’d been messaging her on the wrong platform for ages (classic me). In a moment of sheer luck, Kelsey just happened to be in town, not clinging to a rock wall, biking up a mountain, or running a marathon. So naturally, I pounced.
Once I reconnected with Kelsey, the plan to spend just a day or two in the city evaporated faster than Seattle sunshine. As I explored Seattle and its surrounding areas, I fell in love with the city—unexpectedly and wholeheartedly. For starters, it is one the water. Need Sheilagh say more? It is also a city of matcha, markets, and …gum. The city has an edge that’s hard to miss. And nothing says ‘urban adventure’ quite like wandering down alleys covered in art, grit, and, well… gum. Yes, that’s right. Gum. Welcome to Seattle’s famous Gum Wall, where discarded chewing gum is the star of the show. If you look hard enough, you might find art—or at least a place to stick your own contribution It wasn’t just the city itself, though the parks, hikes, and hidden corners of Seattle are incredible. I timed my visit perfectly to join Kelsey and her friends for a night of camping, which turned into a joyful chaos of crammed campsites, a couple of dogs, a few kids, and plenty of hiking trails.
Over the next few days, Kelsey and I realized we’re more alike than we ever knew, and our bond grew stronger with every laugh, every meal, and every story we swapped. We may have met during our days of dust storms, and dodging bombs in Kabul—but what’s even more extraordinary is that we both grew up with shockingly parallel lives. We were the kind of kids who believed we could rule the world, and honestly, we might have been a little too convinced of it. We were both got ourselves into all kinds of trouble while simultaneously believing we were the best thing to happen to this planet. Ah, the confidence of youth!
Finn, my ever-loyal canine co-pilot, quickly decided that Kelsey was his new human of choice. He became the biggest, most ridiculous lap dog you’ve ever seen, sprawling all over Kelsey as if his life depended on it. She works from home, so Finn found his true calling—working (read: napping) on her lap during her calls. I started to wonder if I’d lost him to a better life.
While Shevanigans was holding up surprisingly well for a grand road trip, Seattle’s roller-coaster-like hills tested her to the limit. If you’ve never driven a Vanagon up Seattle’s streets, imagine looking straight up at a hill with about six stoplights along the way, praying to every traffic god you can think of, “Please don’t turn red. Please don’t turn red.” Kelsey, being the saint that she is, lent me her car for zipping around the city, and let me tell you, after facing those steep inclines with Shevanigans, it felt like I was driving on air.
Shevanigans did eventually end up in the shop for a bit of TLC—brakes, new tires, coolant tubes, and an oil change—at North Westy, where they fix all things VW. After a bit of pampering, she was ready to roll again. I even took a little day trip to this random Bavarian-themed town in Washington called Leavenworth (yes, that exists) in search of German bread. Spoiler alert: no bread, but plenty of quirky souvenir shops. The oil light decided to blink ominously on the way up the mountains, but all’s well that ends well when you’ve got every VW mechanic on speed dial.
Seattle also gave me a peek into Kelsey’s magical world—her home, which includes a fairy garden that she’s created for local kids. Every day, kids walk by her house and leave tiny gifts for the fairies. One afternoon, a guy walking past with his child asked her if it was her garden. She said yes, and he looked at her like she’d just announced she keeps a dragon in the basement, muttering, “Do you have kids?” Kelsey, completely unfazed, replied, “Nope,” and his look of bewilderment grew. But hey, life’s too short to not have a fairy garden, kids or not, right?
When I finally tore myself away from Seattle (after making more false starts than an old engine, each one accompanied by “I swear, I’m leaving after one more mushroom latte”), I made one last spontaneous stop. On my way out, I veered off the highway to visit a place as wild and untamed as this whole journey—the Wild Horses Monument in Washington. If you’ve never seen it, picture a herd of galloping horses frozen mid-stride, perched high on a ridge overlooking the Columbia River.
It was strangely poetic, standing on that mountain, dripping in sweat, with these wild horses looking like they were galloping toward some unknown horizon. Much like Shevanigans and me, these horses had weathered time, standing unmovable through wind, rain, and whatever else has been thrown at them. I took a photo (mostly to prove I hadn’t melted into a puddle) and made my way back to Shevanigans, where, without the luxury of A/C, I flung open all the windows and let the hot wind whip through the van.
Driving down from that wild, sunbaked monument, I couldn’t help but think how fitting those horses were for the end of this chapter. Much like Kelsey and me—fierce, a bit worn, but always charging forward—those sculptures were a perfect send-off. Strong, unbreakable, a little rough around the edges, but still standing against the elements. And just like that, Shevanigans and I hit the open road once more, the wild horses, and Kelsey fading into the distance but leaving an indelible mark.
With a little more grit, a lot more stories, and a heart full of memories, we pointed ourselves toward the next adventure—Oregon would have to wait for the next adventure – on to Montana! See you there.
Sheilagh, Shevanigans & Finn