We’re Off And Running

After an exceptionally long stay in the Valley of the Sun, we are finally heading north toward cooler climates.  No matter what they say about desert heat being “dry”, it’s still heat and anything into the triple digits is nowhere near comfortable.  Oh, yes, you can go from air-conditioned stores to air-conditioned cars to air conditioned houses but sooner or later you’ll long for the smell of fresh air and a breeze that’s cooling, instead of one that reminds you what it must have been like to be the stoker on a steam engine.

However, before departing the Valley we did enjoy a couple of minor “adventures” that are worth reporting on.  The Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix featured an extended exhibit of Dale Chihuly glass sculptures set amid the cacti and other desert plants.  Initially we entertained the idea of visiting late in the afternoon so that we could enjoy the lights after dark.  Somehow days ran into weeks and before long it was too far along in the exhibit to partake of that particular thrill; we’d have been driving home at midnight which is never all that pleasant a notion.  But by dragging our feet and visiting the garden well into spring, we got to see so many things at full bloom, something we’d have missed with a winter visit.  We overheard one of the gardener’s comment that she’d never seen so many things in bloom all at once. 

The sculptures, of course, were magnificent with colors just glowing in the sunlight.  But the cactus flowers were not to be put to shame by the artwork.  There were screaming oranges and yellows, soft subtle pastels more like water lilies than spiny desert-dwellers.  Even the desert willows and jacarandas were in bloom so there were flowers overhead, at eye level and at one’s feet.  There was just enough of a breeze to waft the scents around, mixing and matching the way only Mother Nature can.

The Butterfly House was open, at an additional charge, and we took the opportunity to visit that as well.  The signage indicated that there were luna moths in the display and I was eager to see one in real life rather than just in a commercial for sleep aids.  Sadly, they have must have a very short life cycle.  We were told that the previous week’s shipment had apparently all expired.  But there were plenty of other flying bits of color to enjoy. 

During our winter stay I joined a newly formed chapter of an organization called Questers.  The members are interested in history and the preservation of historical artifacts.  In addition, most of us have collections of one thing or another and we take turns showing off our “stuff”.   One of our meetings was a joint one with the group from Wickenburg and we were given a tour of the Henry Wickenburg house.  A small group of historians are struggling mightily to preserve and protect this vintage home and we were pleased to be able to see it “up close and personal”.  Henry was a miner who discovered gold in them thar hills, which turned Wickenburg into a boom town for a brief period of time.  It was obviously a very hard life – fighting off Apaches, digging in the mines, battling dry desert heat.  In spite of it, Henry lived to a ripe old age (all things considered) but died under mysterious  circumstances.  It’s not known for sure if he was killed or if he committed suicide.  There’s even some speculation that Henry might have been the lost Dutchman of Lost Dutchman Mine fame.

Readying the coach to hit the road again was quite a hassle, not helped in the least by those triple digit temperatures and a certain lack of organization on our part.  But as soon as we were on the road everything felt familiar and comfortable, even when the engine’s “I’m Over-Heating” buzzer started making a fuss and the “I Need Water” light came on.  We got settled in Camp Verde with only a minor issue of the main slide not wanting to roll out the way it’s supposed to.  Copious amounts of iced tea, cold chicken and a good night’s sleep and we were ready to face the adventures of life on the road.

One of our favorite things to do while in the Verde Valley is to visit with dear friend Pat.  She always manages to plan an interesting outing for us and this trip was no exception.  The three of us paid a visit to the Clemenceau Heritage Museum housed in what was originally the Clemenceau High School.  The town of Clemenceau really doesn’t exist anymore, having been more or less absorbed into Cottonwood or Clarkdale but it was once home to a large smelter which handled processing of the ore brought down from the United Verde Mine in Jerome.  It was a self-contained company town which dried up and blew away once the smelter closed its doors.  Now, like the rest of the nearby towns, it’s main claim to fame is being listed in the National Register of Historic Places.

The museum, while occupying only a corner of the old school, boasts a fantastic model railroad set-up.  It depicts the heyday of railroading in the area, when seven lines serviced the needs of the surrounding communities.  The depictions are so accurate that it’s quite easy to spot buildings and landmarks which still exist in the neighborhood.  One can only imagine how many person-hours went into preparing this wonderful exhibit.  It is such fun to zero in on the little vignettes that represent the whimsy of the model railroaders – the car that hit an electrical pole and went down a steep embankment, the fellow being frisked by the local gendarme, the dinosaur on a far off hill.

Pat had prepared a taco feed for us so we could refuel after a hard day of museum-going.  It was a nice opportunity to kick back, relax and catch up on the goings-on in our lives.  Pat has boundless enthusiasm for all sorts of things and is such fun to be around. 

Denver may be the most thought-of Mile High City but Prescott, Arizona isn’t any slouch in the altitude department.  As we climbed the hill out of the Verde Valley, heading to Prescott, we were immediately aware of the milder temperatures and the many  RV parks and other accommodations for transients as soon as we reached the outskirts of Prescott Valley.  Only an hour’s drive from Phoenix and at least ten degrees cooler, it’s no wonder there was lots of evidence of expansion.  One of Prescott’s most famous attractions is the Sharlot Hall Museum and that was our destination.  Sharlot Hall was Arizona’s first historian and her collections make up the core of the Museum which bears her name.   The Museum complex, which covers 3.3 acres right downtown, consists of several buildings including Fort Misery, thought to be the first ranch house in Arizona, and a home once occupied by John C. Fremont.

In a display of household objects, I noticed an aqua colored glass ball.  Having just finished reading a book about antiques and collectibles, I was able to identify it as a fire extinguisher.  It would have been filled with chemicals for putting out fires and lobbed into the flames where it would burst and release the chemicals.  As the book pointed out, since they were meant to be smashed, there are not that many intact ones around these days.  There were a number of items displayed, such as the fruit pitter, that looked to be more trouble than they’d be worth.

There’s a very pretty garden which dominates the center of the museum complex.  Although most of the roses were finished with their earliest spring bloom (and in serious need of deadheading), it was nice to see phlox and daylilies and other such perennials which don’t generally flourish in Arizona’s killer heat.

Note to self:  read a detailed biography of John C. Fremont.  The docent gave us just enough intriguing information about his life to whet my curiosity.

We had barely enough energy left to do a quarter turn around the town square, stopping to fortify ourselves with an ice cream cone at one of the many snack bars that flourish downtown.  The streets were teeming with tourists and traffic was heavy so we concluded that Prescott was enjoying an upswing in its economy.  There were groups of teen-agers and young families enjoying the shade of the park which surrounds the county courthouse but there were also a disturbing number of street people sacked out on the ground as well. 

Geezer Gulch - Winter, 2014

As our dear friend, Linda, would say “Life is what happens when you’re making other plans”.  And so it has been for us these past few months which is why these pages have remained blank for so long.  Things are, we hope, back on track now and we can continue our odyssey more or less on schedule.

Finding something interesting to report on from a retirement community is pretty difficult.  (At least interesting to other people – we find it endlessly fascinating.)  We can’t imagine that you are remotely interested in hearing about our doctor or dentist appointments, craft projects started and/or abandoned, or home improvement expenditures.  Okay, that was pretty interesting – we had a new roof put on the house thanks to a leak at a solar tube in the guest bathroom.  The new roof eliminated the leak and the solar tube, leaving the bathroom dark enough now to serve as a bat cave.  We are in the process of deciding whether or not to have another tube installed in a slightly different location.  Facing this fairly major expense, we’ve come to realize that having a home, whether it rolls down the road or sits in one place, is a big pain in the wallet.

The Phoenix area has been blessed with good weather all winter.  It got down near freezing one or two nights in December, but for the most part it has been warm and sunny.  We recently got a nice soaking rain to keep things looking good.  Of course it came at a time when the citrus trees were in bloom and now the yard is filled with orange blossom petals.  The air smells heavenly and the back yard fairly hums with bee activity.  We do have a  mystery brewing with the grapefruit tree.  Last year all the fruit was round and normal-looking but somewhat small;  this year many are extremely large and lumpy, looking for all the world like a raging case of cellulite, more like pomelos than grapefruit.  We have no idea why and need to pose the question to the master gardeners who regularly visit the local library.

Not long ago I took a bus trip into downtown Phoenix to attend the Quilt Show.  The featured guests were members of the Tentmakers of Cairo, makers of hand-appliqued quilts with intricate patterns unique to the Middle East.  Given the number of man hours required to make these minor works of art, they were very fairly priced.

 

 

One of the quilting challenge themes happened to be cows and it was great fun to see how each quilter interpreted the theme.  Silliness prevailed, along with vivid imaginations.  I’ve decided that bus tours are highly desirable, floating along in a big Prevost with traffic and parking someone else’s problem.  I look forward to other trips in the near future.

 

Not long ago, Russ and Rochelle joined us at an afternoon concert at the rec center.  The featured entertainers billed themselves as “O.K. Chorale”, a trio of singer/musicians who performed many old Western songs in barbershop harmony.  It was a delightful show and a very pleasant way to spend a weekday afternoon.  If you find yourselves in Arizona and they are performing nearby, we hope you’ll take the opportunity to hear them. 

We’ve been so pleased to have a number of friends, mostly from our RVing circle, dropping by for visits when they found themselves “in the neighborhood”.  One particularly pleasant weekend comes to mind when our faux in-laws, Gail and Ruthee, were able to squeeze in a brief visit on their way back to Casa Grande just as David and Shirley were enroute back to their digs in Mesa and Randy and Lonna were camped out at an RV resort very nearby.  The house seemed dreadfully quiet after everyone had gone off in different directions. 

Due to budget constraints, Luke Air Force Base has foregone it’s biennial open house and air show for several years running.  Luke has been selected as the training headquarters for pilots of all services for the new (and controversial) F-35A jet fighters and so they wanted to introduce these new planes to the neighborhood.  Thus the open house and air show was back on this year.  Either more spectators showed up than expected or the powers-that-be forgot how to direct traffic, but getting to the Base was an exercise in patience and endurance.  We sat in traffic for a couple of hours, traveling no more than half a mile an hour, to reach Parking Area B.  Then we stood in line for nearly another hour to pass through the cursory inspection station before boarding a bus to be transported to the air field.  All the while most of the air show was going on above us so we had something to divert our attention.  By the time we reached the area where the static displays were parked, I was too leg-weary to do more than sit in the shade under the wing of a large military transport and people-watch.

The highlight of the program, aside from the chance to see the F-35A up close and personal, was a performance by the Air Force Thunderbirds scheduled to begin at 3:00 p.m. (more or less).  Just as the team was assembling for take-off a strong wind galloped out of the West and set up a dust storm that threatened to put a halt to everything.  Some of the tents set up for vendors were in danger of being blown over and we were ever more certain the performance would be scrubbed.  Like so many cows in a blizzard, we all turned our backs to the wind, closed our eyes and tried not to get too sand-blasted.  But before too long the wind died down enough so the Thunderbirds were able to get in their performance.  We have no idea how much they might have had to modify their program due to the wind conditions but it is still a thrill-a-minute performance.  You can check out the crew on their website, where we learned that the Thunderbirds had first formed as a performance group at Luke AFB in the 1950s.

The Sun Bowl concert season has started up again and Lonna and Randy were able to join us for the first one, an Eagle’s cover band known as “Take It To The Limit”.  Never have we seen such a crowd at the Sun Bowl.  Traffic moved along smartly (maybe the Posse should be invited to direct traffic at the next Luke open house) but, even with our early start, we found ourselves perched in the very last row and in danger of rolling backward down the hill to the parking lot.  We couldn’t see much, not that there’s much to see, but the sound was fine and we bounced around to the music and enjoyed the cool, clear evening.

There may be more frequent updates.  Or there may not.  Just depends.  Stay tuned to find out.

Migrating Southward - 2013

We’ve been in travel mode for several weeks now as we wend our way southward from the chilly damp climate of Oregon to the toasty dry warmth of Arizona.  This is what constitutes “hurrying” for us, moving around 150 miles per day every other day or so, seeing what there is to see along the way, experiencing new areas of the country or noticing what we might have missed on the first go-round.

While we were in Oregon we couldn’t help but notice an unusual number of homeless people, soliciting funds on street corners or hitchhiking.  Their signs proclaimed poverty, homelessness, a need for food or money.  But some were downright humorous – one fellow’s sign announced that his wife was being held for ransom and he needed 75 cents for her release.  Another sign flatly announced that money was needed for beer.  Many of these people had positioned themselves near shops and stores which displayed “help wanted” signs in the windows and we were left wondering what invisible barrier kept the two placard bearers apart.

It was raining as we left Neskowin and swept up and over the Coastal Range for another two-day stop in Albany.  The rain persisted and we spent our one idle day on a dash up to the outlet mall at Woodburn to purchase a glorified boom-box on which to play our vast collection of CDs.  The rain continued off and on for the next leg of the trip, up and over the Cascades and into Redmond.  The route took us along the Santiam River and over Santiam Pass then down into the quaint little tourist trap town of Sisters.  Sisters has previously been known for its traffic jams but some new roads have improved the situation greatly and we were soon settled in at our campground at the Deschutes County Fairgrounds. 

Our stay in Redmond was blessed with a little more sunshine than we’d come to expect but the temperature was showing signs of oncoming winter and the Three Sisters (Faith, Hope and Charity) in the Cascades were draped in a fair amount of snow, not just at the peaks but well down the slopes.  Several of the local RV dealers were having a sale and so we spent most of our one free day kicking tires on a variety of vehicles.  We did not kick anything we liked better than what we already have.  It’s pretty evident we haven’t wrapped our heads around the idea of “down-sizing” yet.  Everything except the “40 foot shopping carts” seemed a bit cramped.

The next leg of the journey took us south to LaPine and then southeast on the diagonal in the direction of Lakeview.  Or, as our GPS calls it, La Key View.  This was a new section of Oregon for us and we marveled yet again how diverse the terrain is in that state.  Once we left the dwarfed greenery of Deschutes National Forest, there was an immediate scarcity of plant life and we found ourselves in what is known as The Oregon Outback.  Towns are few and far between and there are several enormous dry lakebeds.  The campground I’d selected for our three-day stay was located ten miles west of town on the road to Klamath Falls.  It was situated in the middle of an 8000 acre cattle ranch with a view of the Warner Mountains and of Juniper Reservoir.  The weather was quite nice when we arrived, sunny but cool, and we were able to sit outside and enjoy the total quiet (except for moo-ing cows) of this rustic area. 

Overnight the weather turned nasty, the outer edge of a severe storm along the coast, which resulted mostly in strong winds and clouds but not much rain.  Going into town didn’t seem like that good an idea so we sat tight all day Saturday, amusing ourselves by watching first the black cows and then the brown cows.  The highlight of the day was observing a pair of hawks squabbling over some tasty rodent, followed by the antics of two coyotes off in the distance.  At least we think they were coyotes.  By evening the wind had picked up even more and the rain came down in earnest and kept up the pace all day on Sunday, by which time we were mumbling to ourselves and succumbing to a good case of cabin fever.  A trip into town on Sunday to buy a newspaper broke up the monotony somewhat and gave us an opportunity to see what we’d missed in Lakeview.  Not much, as it turns out.

It was still breezy on Monday when we departed to continue the southward route, this time with the city of Susanville, California in our sights.  The road took us along the shores of Goose Lake which showed big and blue on the GPS screen but in reality had cattle grazing on it.  Again, towns were small and very far apart so we were happy to find that Susanville is quite the robust community with a variety of stores and to discover our campground was exceptionally nice and came complete with cable t.v. and Wi-Fi.  These little perks may not seem like much in the over-all scheme of things but they become huge when one is suffering from a certain degree of sensory deprivation.

On Day Two of our stop-over we happened upon the Lassen County Historical Museum, an attractive and welcoming log building located near Roop’s Fort, the town’s original shopping plaza.  We were surprised to find the museum open on a Tuesday and walked in to find a group of four people sitting in a circle in the reception area.  We thought we’d stumbled into a meeting of some sort but as it turns out it was just an impromptu gathering of some of the museum’s volunteers, sitting around an imaginary cracker barrel and solving the world’s (or at least the museum’s) problems.  Chairs were immediately pulled up and we were invited to join the conversation.  Most of the volunteers have roots which go deep into the history of the area, their ancestors having arrived via the Nobles or Lassen Emigrant Trails from various places “back East”.

As it turned out, we were so engrossed in conversation that we almost forgot to check out the museum’s collection.  Susan, the Board’s secretary, showed us around some of the displays and it quickly became apparent that she relishes careful study of the artifacts displayed.  You can only begin to imagine the stories behind some of the items.  There was a wooden leg, complete with an awkward and heavy-looking articulated metal “knee”.  It was found out in the high desert along the Nobles trail.  Who did it belong to and how did it come to be left behind?  Those questions are likely to remain unanswered but it’s fun to contemplate the possible answers and to once again marvel at the fortitude of the pioneers.    All of the items in the museum were nicely labeled and well-presented with only a portion of the collection being displayed at any one time so as not to overwhelm the visitor.  Susanville is lucky to have such a nice facility and even luckier to have a dedicated group of volunteers to keep it vibrant.

One of these days we’ve got to do a better job of exploring Reno, Nevada.  But this wasn’t the time.  We made a brief stop in the nearby town of Fernley, did some shopping and hit the road again.  If you look at a map of the state of Nevada you will notice that there isn’t an abundance of roads to choose from.  If U.S. 50 can bill itself as “the loneliest highway in America” then we don’t know what U.S. 95 can call itself.  Not only is there a shortage of towns along the route from Fallon southward, there’s a distinct lack of scenery.  The terrain is all the shades of brown you can imagine, a curve in the road is cause for big excitement and the spotting of another vehicle cause for celebration.  It would be a good place to bury toxic waste….hey, wait, they do!

The road is so long and so dull that stops at Mina and Beatty were required just to alleviate the boredom.  Mina is a wide spot in the road, a place where folks go who want to ride around in the desert on ATVs or quads or whatever those waspy little things are called.  Metal detecting is also big entertainment.  We did drive to town on Saturday and discovered this quirky bit of architecture.  There must be an explanation.

Rarely do we just spend one night in a place but we’ve explored Beatty (and its suburb, Rhyolite) on previous occasions so we made a quick stop-over and headed into Pahrump the next day.  Pahrump must be one of the biggest cities in Nevada, not in terms of population but in square footage.  It’s sprawled all over the place.  Pahrump was enjoying a boom-town phase when the housing crisis developed and so the blank spots between housing tracts never quite got filled in, leaving miles of desert between “settlements”.  It’s a city of enormous contrasts:  there are lots of churches, lots of brothels and lots of casinos, along with a lot of pawn shops.  There are a couple of supermarkets where you can give the slots a whirl before you buy bread and milk. 

While in Pahrump we discovered that fellow Full Timers Roy and Jackie were parked only a few spaces away from us.  They were attending an FMCA chapter rally which occupied most of the period when our stays overlapped but we were able to get together for a tasty chili rellenos dinner at their newly remodeled coach before going our separate ways.  We had scheduled annual maintenance on the coach during our stay.  And, RVs being RVs, the simple oil change and annual check-up turned  into a major expense and resulted in having to unhook and move to the repair facility twice instead of the once we’d planned on.

To get from Pahrump to Bullhead City, Arizona requires a route around Las Vegas where traffic can be pretty heavy.  But once around Sin City,  we had sunny skies and only a modest breeze for the trek.  So all we had to contend with was the monumental boredom of driving through miles and miles of plug ugly.  Granted, brown is a color but not one of the prettier ones.  No sooner had we settled ourselves on a hilltop overlooking the Colorado River and the city of Laughlin, Nevada when a heavy breeze sprang up putting an end to the notion of sitting on the patio with a good book.  We have our fingers crossed that the wind will die down before we make the 200-mile mad dash back to Geezer Gulch.

The next report will be from our base station, Milepost Zero.

A Soggy September - 2013

There isn’t much else that can be accomplished today except to compose a blog posting.  It’s raining hard and the gravel roads here in the campground are showing signs of having an actual current. It’s entirely possible that Neskowin Creek is well on its way to becoming Neskowin River.   Anyone with a fondness for the color gray would love it here.  I wish that red and black Sportcoach that was in here last week would hurry on back – it went a long way toward brightening up the place!

But let’s go back back a few weeks to the Labor Day Weekend which we spent at one of our favorite campgrounds, Sandy Riverfront in Troutdale, Oregon.  Troutdale bills itself as Gateway to the Columbia Gorge and boasts a quaint and colorful main street with an array of attractive shops.  Flower baskets hang from the light poles, teeming with bright flowers.  We’ve pretty much covered all the major attractions on previous visits to the area but this time we ventured to nearby Gresham to check out the local history museum (a unique building which began life as a Carnegie Library) and a very nice outdoor farmers’ market.  The Columbia and Willamette valleys are noted for their agricultural products and the Gresham market boasted some fine-looking fruits and veggies.  Elberta peaches and pluots made their way into our market basket.  It was my first taste of pluots, which claim to be half plum and half apricot.  The apricot half of the family tree was not obvious.

One of Sandy Riverfront’s quirks is that they encourage guests to wash their cars and coaches.  As a matter of fact, they insist on it for their long-term guests.  Howie decided to take advantage of that and spent a day scrubbing and rinsing, rinsing and scrubbing.  I remember thinking this act alone would put an end to the drought in this part of Oregon and, sure enough, it has.

With the holiday behind us and traffic vastly diminished, we headed across Portland and on toward the coast.  Our destination was a membership campground north of Rockaway Beach and we arrived in plenty of time to get set up and run to town to check out the highlights.  There weren’t any.  We did, however, make two trips to Tillamook during our six-day stay.  We visited the local historical museum, made a stop for ice cream at the Tillamook factory and did a romp through the Blue Heron winery and gift shop.  Tillamook also boasts an air museum, which we opted not to visit.  It’s housed in an enormous wooden building which once served as a blimp hangar and is reported to be the largest open-span wooden structure in the world. 

While most of the days in Rockaway Beach were cloudy (at best) or rainy (at worst), we did have a bright sunny day for a drive around a portion of the Three Capes Scenic Loop.  One section of the loop was closed to traffic due to what was described on the signage as “an active landslide” so we had to take the long way around to reach the Cape Meares lighthouse.  Rather than being perched at the very top of the bluff, the lighthouse is about halfway down the cliff so that your first view of it from the parking lot is of just the small room housing the light.  There’s quite a walk involved to get to the main section of the lighthouse but the view is fabulous.

On our way back to Rockaway Beach we passed through the town of Garibaldi and discovered that the museum was open. It had been closed on previous drive-bys.   Labor Day more or less marks the end of tourist season and so many of the seaside attractions are closed or have limited hours.  The museum contained the answer to our question regarding the tall smokestack that more or less dominates the town – it is all that remains of what was once a large lumber mill. 

The next leg of our journey brought us  here to Neskowin where we were reunited with our fake relatives, Ruthee and Gail.  We’ve taken to referring to each other as The Out-Laws (as opposed to in-laws).  It didn’t take long to develop a routine…Happy Hour is at 4:00 if we haven’t had a big lunch and 5:00 if we aren’t hungry at 4:00.   Another tradition is to have lunch at Mo’s in Taft, a bit further down the coast.  Their clam chowder is world famous but perhaps not as famous as it once was.  There was plenty of sightseeing on the agenda (between rainstorms anyhow) and we trekked north to Pacific City to visit the Cape Kiwanda shoreline where we watched surfers in heavy-duty wet suits trying to catch an uncooperative wave while under-dressed teenagers attempted to get kites up and flying.  There are signs posted along the beach to keep an eye open for fast-moving dories coming ashore but we didn’t see any and had to rely on Ruthee’s description thereof.

On Wednesday we made the longer drive south to the big city of Newport.  We arrived just in time to enjoy a bowl of chili at the Rogue Brewery at the harbor before heading to the historic district to troll into and out of a myriad of tourist traps.  One of the most interesting sights along this stretch is the pile of sea lions on the pier.  Every so often one would slip into the water or climb out, maybe bark a bit, but mostly they just lay there and pretend they’re having a sun bath.  They had to be pretending because the sun had long since disappeared.  Cloudy weather brings a certain moodiness to the harbor, as this photo will atest.

On Monday, another overcast day, Gail and Ruthee headed back “over the hill” toward home and I got busy plotting a route back to Geezer Gulch.  Nothing seemed to interest me so I utilized what seemed like the shortest route which would include a couple of membership parks in order to keep expenses down.

With a couple of nice days predicted, we planned our jaunt back to Newport, this time swerving off to take advantage of the super-scenic Otter Loop which took us to the overlook at Cape Foulweather.  The cape was named by none other than Captain Cook when he encountered 100 mph winds upon reaching the vicinity.  Although we had nothing but blue skies and gentle breezes, it wasn’t hard to imagine how ugly it could be when Mother Nature decided to have a temper tantrum. 

The visit to the Oregon Coast Aquarium was our primary purpose in trekking back to Newport.  The admission fee is quite high, even for seniors, but when you’re hit with the information that it costs roughly $17,000 per year to feed one otter, the high fee becomes understandable if not tolerable.  We were able to get a good viewpoint to watch the otters being fed their lunch.  They slurped down those restaurant-grade oysters at an amazing clip and treated the shrimp like we’d treat potato chips – they’ll do until presented with something better.  As usual, the display of moon jelly fish and sea nettles were hypnotizing.  From the Aquarium, it was only a short jaunt to the old Yaquina Bay Lighthouse where we were able to get an excellent view of the Art Deco bridge which crosses the mouth of the river along with a view seaward to where the jetties are located.  Although no longer in use, this lighthouse is the only remaining representative of the style incorporating both the light and the house on the Oregon coast and was saved from demolition by a troupe of local citizens.

With nasty weather fast approaching, we took one last opportunity to sightsee with another drive to Cape Kiwanda.  Still no dories and no kites, either, but plenty of over-the-hill surfer dudes bobbing around in the waves.  On the way home we passed the entrance to the Nestucca National Wildlife Refuge.  We were able to drive to a small parking area atop a hill and I waited in the car while Howie hiked the entire way to the lookout platform.  Even with the binoculars I didn’t spot evidence of any wildlife although that may have been a wren of some sort that flitted by just as we got back to the highway. 

And we ended our visit to the Oregon coast with a quick trip to Lincoln City to visit their very nice Historic Museum.  Lincoln City, as a civic entity, is fairly new having been cobbled together sometime in the 1960s from several other small towns strung out along the coast.  There’s Taft and Oceanlake and…it doesn’t matter…it’s all Lincoln City now.  The museum is nicely laid out with plenty of artifacts from the days of farming/lumber/fishing to the more recent industry of tourism.  And while in Lincoln City we stopped to admire the D River.  Although we are dubious of it’s claim to be the shortest river in the world.  The D is considerably longer than that itsy-bitsy river in Great Falls which runs for just a few feet from a spring to the Missouri River.  That river fits nicely into one snapshot whereas the D would probably require two or three.  Why, my goodness, the D is so big that it requires a bridge to get over it.

We certainly hope to file the next blog from somewhere warmer and drier.  

Albany, Oregon and Environs

The primary purpose for being in the vicinity of Albany, Oregon was to attend the FMCA Northwest Area rally which was held at the Linn County Fairgrounds.  The site was quite nice and the weather was pleasant, we knew a fair number of the attendees and the entertainment was, well, entertaining, especially a young pianist named Brady Goss who can play more notes in less time than nearly everybody.  He’s a big fan of Jerry Lee Lewis and it becomes pretty obvious in very little time.  He has a pleasant voice and puts on a fine one-man show so we hardly noticed that the seating was a long way from comfortable.

There were only two seminars on the schedule which interested me:  the first conflicted with the Chapter Fair which we had to attend and the second was mysteriously cancelled.  Howie attended one of the Geeks on Tour seminars and came away with some new information which we hope to put to use in this blog.  As always, the Geeks’ seminars were very well attended. 

There were no hook-ups at the rally site so we decided to move to a full-service campground for a few days to charge the coach batteries and empty the tanks that needed to be empty and fill the tanks that needed to be filled before moving to “the country” for a visit with our faux relatives, Gail (aka Ralph) and Ruthee.  The move from the fairgrounds to the campground has to be the shortest on record for us…maybe a mile, maybe less.  Certainly less as the crow flies.

We kicked off our visit to Albany with a tour of the Historic Carousel and Museum right smack downtown near the Willamette River.  This museum is unique in that it truly puts the cart before the horse – the carousel doesn’t exist yet, at least not in a completed state, but the museum is a beehive of activity.  It’s where the carousel animals are being created, designed by the sponsors of each creature, carved by local woodworkers and painted by local artists.  It’s a long-term project, still several years (and many dollars) away from completion.  The animals are everywhere in the building, some completed, others barely recognizable as they emerge from blocks of wood.  We came away all smiles to see the terrific enthusiasm this project has generated in the town. 

The following day we started our tour with a stop at the Albany Regional Museum which is housed in a sizeable old brick building smack downtown.  We were told the building had been moved from another downtown locale back in the early 1900’s by lifting it onto large logs and rolling it down the street, moving the last log forward as progress was made.  If I recall correctly, we were told it took 19 days to move the building a few blocks but no mortar was cracked and no windows broken.  “Easy does it” must have been that moving crew’s motto.  The museum contains the usual artifacts from the city’s past, all nicely displayed, but our attention was captured by a display of wood carvings by one Robert O. Ferguson, a local shopkeeper and designer of menswear stores.  Each object was carved from one piece of wood.  The museum owns all of Ferguson’s work except those pieces which he gave away as gifts so they are able to change the display frequently.  Most have botanical themes and some incorporate intricate carvings in ivory and brass as well as wood.

Our next stop was the Monteith House, the first structure in Albany, built by two brothers as a store and residence.  Unlike so many house museums which are furnished with items “of the period”, nearly everything here was owned by the Monteiths and used in the house at one time or another.

It was barely a 20 mile drive to Gail and Ruthee’s farm in the foothills of the Cascades but we managed to make an adventure of it by taking a few wrong turns.  At one point the GPS failed us totally and showed only a blank gray screen with nary a road indicated.  We thought calling for help was the prudent thing to do, given the number of low tonnage bridges in the area.  And the coach had developed a highly irritating beeping sound, a malfunction of the warning that the parking brake was engaged.  Which it wasn’t, since we were moving forward.

Gail and Ruthee have their big meal at noon and we weren’t late for a hearty meal of salmon and all the fixin’s.  Although it has been some time since Ruthee was a Girl Scout leader, she kicked right into her organizational mode and had a busy schedule made out for us but with plenty of built-in flexibility “just in case”.  On Friday we raced up to Portland to attend a corporate picnic with Gail’s former co-workers (where he’s known as Ralph).  As we approached Portland we noticed traffic was bad in the southbound lanes and it remained so until it was time for us to make the long slow return trip.  We heard that it was still congested the next day.  You would have thought that both Seattle and Portland had been ordered evacuated!

Ruthee had planned a birthday party for herself for Saturday, even though her birthday wasn’t until Tuesday.  Friends and family arrived in time to sing a slightly off-key version of “Happy Birthday” and dig into a huge cake purported to contain two pounds of chocolate mousse. (If anyone is looking for those two pounds, I know where they are!) And if anybody left their car windows rolled down, I’m pretty sure they found a baseball bat sized zucchini on the passenger seat.  Ruthee seemed almost desperate to find good homes for all those squash lurking in the garden.

Our parking spot was fairly near the road but traffic was minimal and we were able to appreciate the peace and quiet that settles over the area once the logging trucks have finished their daily runs.  It was so quiet that the fan on our refrigerator was starting to annoy me.  It sounded sooo loud.  The field across the street is given over to the raising of grass seed and so we were able to watch the harvesting of a crop.  Sizeable fleets of large pieces of farm equipment are involved.  Some grass seed fields require burning in order to prepare for next season’s crop.  Lucky we missed that step in the process.  If I recall correctly, Linn County is the grass seed capital of the United States. 

A cousin of Gail’s was working at the Scio Historical Museum on Sunday afternoon so we took a run to town for a visit.  The museum is housed in a tiny train station moved from West Scio and is crammed to the rafters with items from the area’s past.  This quilt was one of several made from ribbons won at the fair.

 

Linn County is known for its covered bridges and so Ruthee had planned a day trip for us to visit them all.  We packed a picnic lunch and set off, stopping first at Hannah Bridge which spans Thomas Creek.  The logging trucks (unloaded) can use this bridge but have to take another route once they’ve piled five or six Douglas firs aboard.  The Shimanek Bridge also crosses Thomas Creek and is one of the most photographed (probably because it’s red).  By the time we got to the Larwood Bridge it was declared “time for lunch” and we unpacked our sandwiches, found a picnic table in the shade and enjoyed a pleasant meal on the banks of the Roaring River.  The Roaring River doesn’t actually roar but it does babble pretty loud just before it dumps into the calm and quiet Crabtree Creek.  If it hadn’t been for a brochure picked up somewhere along the line, we never would have noticed that we were seeing something very unusual….the river empties into the creek, not vice versa.

Not far from our picnic spot is the Roaring River Fish Hatchery where we stopped to check out the rainbow and steelhead trout and the sturgeons.  It wasn’t long before we spotted an osprey circling overhead, probably keeping a sharp eye out for dinner.  Some of the tanks were covered with netting but many weren’t and we can only wonder what the annual  loss is to fish-eating birds.  The sturgeons were probably not on any bird’s menu since you’d need a crane to lift one but some of the rainbows were the right size to get toted away.

Ruthee was looking forward to spending her birthday in Salem, specifically having breakfast on the house at Denny’s.  But first we stopped at the outlet mall to troll through the stores.  There were not many bargains to be had but we did acquire a cheese knife and two small spatulas at one of the kitchen gadget shops.  On the way home we stopped at Willamette Valley Vineyards for a bit of wine tasting and to admire the wonderful view.  Unfortunately forest fires contributed to a hazy atmosphere and so the views were less long and slightly out of focus.  But the wine was good.  I had to fight the urge to buy a tee shirt which proclaims “It’s Willamette, Dammit”.  The wine was spendy and so was the tee shirt which may explain why they are expanding an already enormous facility. 

During our stay, Howie had made arrangements with Freightliner in Salem to address the beeping brake bell so we got an early start and headed north.  Nothing ever goes quite the way you’ve planned when it comes to RV repairs so we ended up sitting around the drivers’ lounge at Freightliner for about three hours only to discover within ten minutes of departure that, no, the problem had not been solved.  We had to turn around and go back to Salem where they removed a solenoid and silenced that stupid bell - which is probably what they should have done in the first place.  Fortunately, once we emerged on the north side of Portland traffic was sparse and we made good time, arriving in Elma, Washington before dark.  Not that it isn’t always dark in Elma.  The sun must come up eventually but after five days here we haven’t seen much of it.  It did make a brief appearance the day we visited Olympia where we covered every inch of their fabulous farmers market and took a walking tour of the city-sponsored artwork along the waterfront.  There is a contest underway to select the next outdoor sculpture for the city to purchase.

We have a few more days here in gloomy Elma and then it’s back to Troutdale to restock the fridge and head for the Oregon Coast and an eventual reunion with our fun faux relatives.

Moses Lake, Washington and Pendleton, Oregon

We had, on a previous visit, hit most the highlights of the area surrounding Moses Lake, Washington so this time we contented ourselves with kicking back and relaxing.  Anticipating some extremely hot weather, we upgraded our campsite to 50 amp service so we could run both air conditioners if necessary.  And there were days when it was certainly necessary.  Dry heat or not, 100 degrees is not comfortable!

We hadn’t visited the city of Wenatchee on our first trip so we took this opportunity to make the 60 mile drive northwest to explore it.  Wenatchee’s original claim to fame was its bountiful crops of apples and it continues to produce mega-crops of wonderful apples.  But it also produces many other types of fruits and berries and has recently begun to produce  grapes both for the table and for the winery.  Being the “high desert”, nothing grows without irrigation but the volcanic ash soil is ready to produce as soon as the magic ingredient of water is added.  It was a broiling hot day, destined to reach into triple digits, so we were happy to enter the cool confines of the Wenatchee Valley Museum.  Although we appreciated the climate indoors, we were less than impressed with the contents of the museum.  It told the story of the mighty apple in great detail but told other bits and pieces of the area’s history incoherently. 

One of the more interesting items we spotted was this camera, dating back to the 1920s and manufactured in Rochester, New York where it lived in the shadow of the once-mighty Eastman Kodak Company.  Sears, Roebuck purchased the rights to the camera and sold it under the Sears brand.

 

A far more interesting museum, perhaps because it was such a surprise, was the Grant County Museum in Ephrata, Washington.  The museum tour begins in the largest building which is crammed with interesting items from the area’s past where we were left to our own devices to make sense of the collection.  But once we’d explored that building to our satisfaction, a guide joined us and led us to a series of outbuildings, each housing a collection pertinent to the building which held it.  For example, a collection of pianos, organs and religious articles were housed in an old Catholic church.  It was when one guide was replaced with another that we realized we were about to get our money’s worth and then some.  The museum consists of a lot of buildings!  An entire town, in fact, and a relay team of docents is probably necessary.  Kudos to the folks who put this collection together and who keep it operating. 

The next stop on our westward trek was Pendleton, Oregon.  The main purpose for the stop was to visit the Pendleton Underground and spend some time with one of Howie’s college chums, Charles, and his wife Ellen who recently moved to the area from California.  Although we aren’t “casino people” we did opt to stay at the Wildhorse Casino east of Pendleton.  As with so many casinos, they have an excellent and relatively inexpensive campground.  At night we could watch the lights of vehicles as they climbed up (or down) I-84 as it winds its way over the Blue Mountains.

Charles and Ellen hadn’t yet made the tour of the Underground so they joined us on Friday morning to check it out.  Tours are booked in advance and reservations are required; I suspect the tour groups are also limited in size.  There were about 20 of us assembled and we were led back out onto the street to begin the tour.  At one time, Pendleton had a busy and lively “parallel universe” below ground with rooms and cellars and tunnels housing all sorts of enterprises both fair and foul.  Mainly inhabited by Chinese railroad workers, the underground was home to opium dens and laundries, speakeasies and pool rooms.  This original Pendleton blanket is thought to date from the 1880s.  The four black bars in the design indicate the price – four beaver pelts --which indicates Pendleton Woolen Mill’s products have always been expensive.  Or as they say around here, spendy.

The “underground” tour does not remain under ground.  Eventually we headed upstairs to visit the boarding house/brothel known as Cozy Rooms.  It was both a legitimate boarding house and a bordello and was the last operating “sporting house” in town to close its doors.  The furnishings were considerably more lavish than those at the Oasis in Wallace.  We aren’t sure that’s at all significant but perhaps cowboys spend more lavishly than miners.  The madam had installed a small chapel where a circuit-riding preacher delivered sermons to the working girls every Sunday. 

There are not many alternative routes from one side of Oregon to the other so we followed I-84 west along the Columbia River Gorge to Troutdale, just outside Portland.   Troutdale has been a frequent stop for us.  The campground is especially nice and there’s plenty of shopping close at hand, both recreational and necessary.  We spent two days emptying tanks that need to be empty and filling tanks that need to be full before heading to Albany for four and half days of boondocking at the Northwest Area FMCA rally at the Linn County Fairgrounds.  It seems that quite a few folks we know have traveled here after the Gillette rally and so the fun continues. 

There are some unique things on the agenda for the next few weeks, including a Faux Family Reunion, so be sure to tune in again soon for an update from the highways and byways of Oregon.

Montana and Idaho–July, 2013

We departed Ennis under cloudless skies and headed northwest on U.S. 287 to pick up the Interstate near Whitehall.  It was a leisurely drive with plenty of pretty scenery to admire, including stretches along the Madison and Jefferson rivers.  Traffic was light on the Interstate and we made good time to Missoula where we checked in at Jim & Mary’s RV Park, one of our favorites thanks to a group of flower enthusiasts who keep the sites blooming with all manner of posies.  With a nice balance of open and shaded sites, we were happy this time to have one of the shady sites in the front row.  Missoula had just emerged from a string of hot days and we appreciated being able to sit outdoors and enjoy the late afternoon breezes.

Prior to our arrival in Missoula, we experienced another one of those serendipitous coincidences that so often happen to RVers.  While sitting at a Flying J in Milltown, I was seized with the urge to call Linda and Don.  We hadn’t heard from them since Gillette and I was curious whether they had scrapped their western trip and headed home or if they were bound for Glacier National Park.  Inquiring minds want to know.  It turns out they had just hopped on I-90 at Deer Lodge and were less than an hour behind us.  They made a split-second decision not to turn off toward Helena and to head to Missoula instead.  They got into a spot right across the road from Jim & Mary’s and we were able to spend a couple of evenings with them, catching up on our wanderings and adventures.  They’ve had some pretty substantial issues with their coach which has taken the bloom off their travels to a certain degree.

No stop in Missoula would be complete without a visit with Fred and Kathy.  They live very near the campus and at least that part of town still looks familiar.  The rest has grown and grown, sprawled and sprawled.  Kathy had prepared a lovely dinner for us one evening; we dined al fresco in their shaded yard.  And the next day we four  trolled in and out of all the interesting shops along Higgins Avenue downtown.  Except for a few new buildings and the now-empty Mercantile, time has managed to stand still.  Many of the buildings have been repurposed and many are on their second or third incarnations.  The campus, of course, has swollen beyond imagining.

Although there’s so much to see and do in the area, we weren’t able to stay more than a couple of days.  One of the reasons for routing us along I-90 was in order to pay a visit to the historic old mining town of Wallace, Idaho.  Some big-deal music festival created a shortage of campsites so we had to stay in St. Regis, Montana which is 30 miles east of where we wanted to be.  It’s such a short drive from Missoula to St. Regis  that we were settled in at our RV park with plenty of time to spare before dinner.  So we went into town to check out the mega-gift shop at the casino and two antique shops with tons and tons of really nice things.  It was totally unexpected to find such interesting items.  I fell in love with an oak parlor table with brass claw feet clutching glass balls.  Alas, it wouldn’t fit in the coach.  But I did find two eggcups to add to the collection.

On Saturday we headed west, up over Lookout Pass, and down into Wallace, Idaho for a visit to the Oasis Bordello Museum.  Wallace was, and still is, a silver mining town.  Although never legal in Idaho, prostitution was once big business in town and The Oasis was the last brothel to close its doors.  Originally built as a hotel and saloon, the upper floors soon began to serve as a brothel.  In 1988 rumor of an FBI raid sent the girls scattering and when things blew over, the madam decided it was time to retire and so the Oasis never reopened.  Some enterprising soul bought it lock, stock and barrel and reopened it as a museum leaving everything just as it was when the girls beat a hasty retreat.  Some clothing items have been added to the display and a few mannequins posed in the rooms but few other attempts have been made to “stage” the display.  There are dirty dishes in the sink and groceries that haven’t been put away. 

With blues music rocking the downtown area, we strolled over to the Northern Pacific Depot Museum, a nicely restored facility.  The station master resided on the second floor and had, for the era, very fancy living quarters with indoor plumbing (a nice touch for Idaho winters).  The town’s visitor center features a mining museum.  We covered it all and then headed back up over Lookout Pass to our secluded campground in the woods.  My idea of “camping” begins and ends with sleeping with the bedroom window open at night so it was pretty exciting to be told that all the garbage receptacles got emptied before 7:00 p.m. to discourage the bears from dropping by for a snack. 

Our next stop was at a posh new RV resort in the Idaho Panhandle where we enjoyed a week’s stay on a promotional basis.  From here we paid a visit to Farragut State Park in the town of Athol.  Thay this very thlowly or you will offend thumb one.  Farragut was once the second largest naval training station in the United States.  It was in the planning stages before Pearl Harbor but that attack put the rush on things and it was soon the largest city in Idaho with a population in excess of 55,000.  Six enormous training buildings were constructed; there are no photos of the interiors – how they managed such large structures with no interior support was a well-kept secret.  Toward the end of the war the facility housed approximately 800 German POWs.  Many found the experience so pleasurable that they have returned for reunions in recent years.  The Navy still maintains an acoustic testing facility on Lake Pend Oreille but all that remains of Farragut is a water tower, a few cement block ammunition storage sheds and The Brig, which now serves as a museum.  Everything else was sold and hauled away.  Even the railroad spur line from Athol to the base has disappeared.

As nice as this facility is we are looking forward to returning to reality on Monday.  “Reality” has more than one t.v. channel and isn’t 30 miles from the nearest Walmart.  Our next stop is Moses Lake, Washington where temperatures are predicted to be into the triple digits…a little something to toughen us up before we start heading back to Phoenix.