Day 56 – May 29

Following a heavy rain during the night, promises of a brighter day were offered and withdrawn in rapid succession as patches of clear sky were lost behind stretches of high overcast. We were moving by 9:30 and heading towards our target of the previous day, Astoria. The beauty of an STC policy is that you readjust and feel no guilt. We needed to take care of some housekeeping items like groceries and laundry and we had heard that Astoria was a great destination.

The drive to the coast took place during one of the ‘promises withdrawn’ weather periods marked by showers and darkening skies. We arrived at the coast south of Seaside and stopped at a Starbucks for some beverages and wifi on the way north. Once again the skies showed some promise of clearing which was the forecast for the following day.

Both the MRT and BRT were in need of an oil change so on the way into Astoria we stopped at a jiffy lube to see if they could take us in. They suggested that we come back 3ish so we continued on to the Columbia Maritime Museum, our educational fix for the day (reading the day old National Enquirer special on plastic surgery gone bad at Starbucks just hadn’t filled our voracious need for knowledge).

Again, not knowing what to expect set us up to be pleasantly surprised. Numerous full sized fishing and Coast Guard boats were on display, geared out as they would have been in their days of service, with realistic mannequins to complete the visions back in time.

The estuary of the Columbia River is one of the most turbulent stretches of water in the world. Each year the US Coast Guard rescues 600 people from the ocean where it is often whipped into huge waves as the Pacific collides with the force of the Columbia’s fresh water flowing over the shallow sand bars created by the Columbia’s never ending supply of silt deposits. During the frequent periods of strong westerly onshore winds these waters can be impenetrable to all but the most specialized of vessels.

Not a job for the timid

The entry to the Columbia River was not ‘discovered’ by Europeans until the late 1700’s as the foreboding water conditions prevented the boats of the day from getting close enough to shore to see the river beyond. Interpretations of the history of the still viable salmon fishing industry preceded displays of marine and naval artifacts, examples of scrimshaw, and countless detailed models of the vast array of ships and boats that used to ply these waters. This is a museum where you could spend a full day and still come away wanting more.

Recognize any of these?

Scrimshaw

We left in time to make our late afternoon appointment for oil etc. and then headed back towards the KOA campground. KOA is a great spot if you are looking for full amenities and entertainment or, as was the case in San Diego, you want a location very close to a city. It is a family based experience but you do pay for all those experiences. The nightly charge was over $50. As we have been paying in the mid $20s at State and National parks this seemed a little steep. This KOA was right across from a state park, Fort Stevens State Park so once we determined that we could come back and use the pay laundromat we headed across the road.

Fort Stevens was a very well kept park set in what felt like a west coast rain forest setting with large moss covered trees and shoulder high ferns. At mid week in rainy weather it had lots of full service sites available at $26 a night. Sean and I hooked up the BRT while Diane and Carla headed back to KOA in the MRT to do the laundry. While they were doing that Sean prepared a delicious meal of chicken korma and got a campfire going. I busied myself in my self appointed role of scribe – taxing work indeed.

Although temperatures were dropping into the 50s we ate outside around the fire which, in combination with the korma over rice, kept us all feeling very cozy, happy campers indeed. After I did the dishes (scribe work doesn’t quite balance 2 hours of laundry work and cooking duties) we sat around the fire while Diane and Sean fought over possession of the poking stick, a nightly ritual that now, in Jane’s absence, only has two players.

Day 55 – May 28

Jane and Ike served blueberry pancakes in the BRT as a farewell meal. They are heading north to make their ferry connections to BC, Alaska and the Yukon and have promised to flash up their blog site again ( I sort of steam rolled over it on day 4 sucking up all the good material for the communal site). I will include the link as soon as I get it so you will then have two blogs to follow. How much fun will that be…..

After some prolonged hugs and best wishes the LRT flapped its wings and left the armadillo. As they rolled away I was sure I could hear sobbing or was it an attempt to muffle a yahoo. After travelling closely together for 55 days you get to know someone very well, you get a better understanding of their strengths and weaknesses as they do of yours. The success of the relationship then relies on your ability and desire to work within those constraints. Depending on how you manage that multi partnered dance one or two things will happen, you either never want to see them again or you have have added further cement to a life long friendship. There is no question that not only has our friendship survived this very close encounter of the RT kind but it has grown deeper and stronger. Possibly the best souvenir of the trip. Diane and I hope to cross trails with them again as we travel through Alaska and Yukon in their wake.

Au Revoir to the LRT

Our plan for the day was to do a bit of backtracking with Sean and Carla and visit the Evergreen Aeronautical Museum which we had passed on the way to Lincoln City the previous afternoon. Weather forecasts were promising showers for the day so it will be a good day for a museum visit. The backtrack trip bore no resemblance to the post Memorial Day traffic congestion we had seen the previous afternoon and we made good time.

The museum is notably marked by several large attractive buildings and an associated water theme park that has a full sized 747 poised for take off from the roof of the pool. The exits doors of the plane are the entries to twisting enclosed exterior slides that dump swimmers into the pool below.

Lift off

The museum consists of two very large hanger like buildings and a theatre. One of the hanger buildings is dedicated to traditional flight and the other is dedicated to space flight. We were intending to spend a couple of hours here and then head out back to the coast for the night.

What we weren’t prepared for was a world class museum that had as its centre piece the Spruce Goose, Howard Hughes’ outlandish water plane. This plane has a wing span of 320 feet, more than 100 feet wider than a modern 747. Contrary to what its name suggests, the Spruce Goose was made primarily from birch, during a period of wartime shortages of the more traditional plane material, aluminum. Having only ever flown once, it still holds the record for the largest wing span of any plane ever built as well as still being the largest water plane ever built.

On one hand it is a bit of an embarrassment to walk into a museum and not know that it houses one of the most famous planes in the world but on the other hand it was so cool to unexpectedly bump into this almost mythical plane. The other displays included models of Leonardo Da Vinci’s flying machine, the Wright Brothers plane, numerous experimental planes and helicopters, all of which were in beautiful condition and well interpreted.

The Spruce Goose

By the time we finished the first building it was 2:00 and we hadn’t had lunch yet. We moved to the space building and had lunch in the cafeteria before working through the space section which housed German V2 rockets, Saturn and Atlas rockets from the early American space program, Russian satellites, a stealth plane, a Gemini and Mercury capsule, some of which were replicas, some of which had actually been into space and back. There was an iron and nickel meteorite that you could pick up and a LEM landing simulator, all very cool.

The Mercury Module

We left the museum at about 4:30 but could have stayed for hours more. This required a bit of a game plan change for the day as we originally had planned to drive to Astoria, further north up the coast. All plans are STC (subject to change) so we had a quick scrum in the parking lot and headed for ‘Stub’ Stewart State Park, just south of Veronia, Oregon – one of those places that you never expected to visit. It turned out to be just about empty, so finding two large adjacent sites was not a problem.

We soon had a campfire going and even though it was chilly we ate a supper of soup (courtesy Carla) and fresh made biscuits (courtesy of Diane). In anticipation of nighttime showers we packed up our campfire gear and moved into the BRT for Port and a couple of games of Skip Bo before retiring for the night.

Day 53 – May 26

After a very comfortable night in the yurt, which was about sixteen feet across and could sleep six in a combination of a double and 3/4 bunk bed and a futon, we headed out. Jane and Ike left first in search of a gas fill up with the plan that we would meet up somewhere on the road towards the Columbia River Gorge, our destination for the night. We hadn’t caught up to them by Madras but as we turned on to the 97 north there they were, strategically parked in a MacDonald’s parking lot so that we would see them. We joined them there for coffee and a quick wifi huddle as we face timed our various relatives and I posted a three day back log to the blog, untypically bereft of photos.

Bend was a great stop for us all, a tasteful mix of culture, nature and craft beer. The surrounding mountains, Bachelor and the Three Sisters providing a striking snow capped backdrop to the many craftsman style houses and low scale historic buildings that made up the parts of Bend we had the opportunity to see. Bend may require a revisit at some point.

The drive north initially took us through very lush cattle, horse and agricultural land that was all heavily irrigated, even the grazing land, with various contraptions. The most visually interesting irrigation systems were mobile devices that consisted of about a 4″ pipe that passes through the hubs of 4′ diameter spoked metal wheels that are placed about 25′ apart along the length of the pipe. Sprinkler heads on the pipe water the land immediately around the path of the pipe, which in some installations stretches for thousands of feet across the fields. Underground water must be plentiful if the profusion of irrigation is any indicator. Once we passed from this area we were in scrub desert-like terrain, an indication of the need and impact of the irrigation on the fields that we had just passed through. Without the water this is what those lands would look like.

Closer to the Washington border it appears that the rainfall increases witnessed by the rolling green fields of grain that we passed through where there were no signs of artificial irrigation. As we approached Biggs we drove through a massive wind turbine array. Hundreds upon hundreds of the iconic white turbines spotted the horizon in front of us as far as we could see. As in the array we had seen in California, the land under the turbines is used for agricultural purposes.

We passed through Biggs, our agreed rendezvous, somewhat unceremoniously as before we knew it we were on a bridge, crossing over the Columbia River and into Washington state. We were told that the most scenic view of the Columbia River Gorge was from the highway on the Washington side rather than the interstate on the Oregon side. After a stop for a picnic lunch on the Maryville Art Museum grounds, overlooking the Columbia River we felt it prudent to start looking for a place to stay. It was Sunday night on the Memorial Day long weekend so we were prepared for some effort.

Columbia River Gorge

We pulled into a picnic park at the edge of the river for a while to watch the fleet of windsurfers and kite boarders that were racing back and forth across the river, riding the wind that was being funnelled down the gorge.

A ‘board’ meeting

At the first state camping park we saw we stopped and were met with shaking heads as soon as the armadillo pulled in. We were directed to a private campground back across the river on the Oregon side, with the provision that ‘ it wasn’t fancy’ so we headed in that direction. Now I love understatement, it has a place in our toolbox of communications, but when we pulled into that post apocalyptic piece of landscape that made Dresden after the bombing look like a gated community I knew that this lady was a master of the under statement. By comparison a Walmart parking lot would have been an upgrade to first class. I didn’t even turn the vehicle off as we rolled through the parking lot and back on to the 84 west in Oregon, and thus marking the shortest time in any state on the trip to date.

Not far along the road we spotted a sign for the Memaloose State Park. As the armadillo rolled to stop in front of the camp host’s trailer there was no shaking head and as Diane pointed to our parking lot full of vehicles I detected a faint nod. As luck would have it there had been several I scheduled check outs the night before – we were in and we had adjacent sites, with hook ups. In the crap game of finding accommodations on the Memorial Day weekend we had just rolled a string of sevens and elevens. As an added bonus we were actually at a site before 6:00 allowing us the luxury of the time to sit and have some conversation and appetizers. Our various schedules and commitments are very soon going to lead to diverging paths for the members of the armadillo so opportunities like this are all the more cherished.

As our provisions were getting a bit low the menu for the night was ’empty the fridge spaghetti’, a variation on stone soup. Everyone brought out of their fridge what might be an acceptable addition to the sauce or to the salad and voila, empty the fridge spaghetti with trimmings paired with some Napa Valley wine. Delicious.

We spent some time around the campfire watching the dozens of kids and their parents playing. As much chaos as all those activities created it really brought home to us, especially on this long weekend, what great memories get created at places like this on weekends like this. Possibly it was our own childhood memories of camping that gave us the inspiration and I would offer the courage to set off on this trip – a chance to revisit sleeping in a portable house and spending time around a campfire with friends, an experience that just never gets old.

Day 54 – May 27

Our plan was to be on the road by 9:30 heading down the Columbia gorge. Unfortunately the beautiful weather of the previous day and early night had changed to overcast skies and spitting rain. We made a stop in Stevenson to get some info on the gorge and then headed off to explore some of the many falls that cascaded down the cliff side on this stretch of the Oregon side of the river.

Over the gorge

The Falls

A detour off of the interstate took us to a very narrow stretch of road that wound along at the foot of several of the falls. However the traffic was heavy and the road very narrow so after seeing the most notable and photographed of the falls, Multnomah, Diane and I , Jane and Ike headed back to the 84 interstate. Sean and Carla stayed on the road and viewed a couple of more falls. Their plan was to stop in Camping World to pick up some RV supplies. Our plan was to all meet up that night at Devils Lake State Park.

We stopped for gas and groceries on the way and continued our drive to the coast. At places, the oncoming traffic, returning on a Monday night from a long weekend, was bumper to bumper. We were glad to be driving in the opposite direction.

We arrived at Devils Lake Park to find that it had got a lot of rain the previous night and we had to be selective to find a parking pad that was not partially or fully covered in water. One site was so wet that two ducks were actually paddling around in the standing water. By the time we found three dryish sites, Sean and Carla arrived. It was too wet to eat outside so we hosted a supper of turkey burgers and salad in the BRT.

Jane and Ike’s schedule is going to have them head out in advance of us tomorrow in order to meet their ferry schedule for heading north so this will probably be our last supper together as the armadillo, a milestone that even after 54 days seems to have raced up on us. It will take some adjustment to get used to a new configuration and eventually all travelling on our own during the latter legs of our respective trips

Day 50 – May 23 (from Phil alone,… sick puppy)

After a comfortable night buried under our comforter we hosted a late breakfast of potato omelettes and toast. A quick visit to stream side showed that my trout had moved on, possibly preceding me upstream. As we were not far from our destination of Bend a 10:15 start seemed fine.

On the way we stopped at an information centre/grocery store where I found a wifi connection and could post the previous days epistle – it had provided a lot of blog fodder -and send an e-mail to Sean and Carla, who according to their post won’t be joining us until Friday.

We also took advantage of the nearby gas station to fill our propane tanks. In talking to the owner about our Crater Lake ‘experience’ she was surprised to hear that there was 4 feet of snow in the woods. Straight faced she said normally this time of year they have 9 feet, which is why they opened the road that is usually closed until mid June. Imagine our good fortune to be here in a year when the road to the 3 foot drifts was open for us to explore. This is exactly why I don’t buy lottery tickets.

We got into Bend about 2:00 and found an information centre on the outskirts of town where they were very helpful, trying to book a camping site for us. Unfortunately the upcoming Memorial Day weekend has most of the camping grounds close to Bend fully booked. We took advantage of their wifi to FaceTime with Sean and Carla to confirm that we had arrived and that they would join us on Friday night.

Bend has the largest collection of micro breweries in Oregon so we headed downtown to find a brew pub to have a late lunch. The drive in took us through some lovely residential areas with a number of spectacular craftsman style homes on large well landscaped lots. Bend was making us want to stay and linger a while.

We found a lunch spot at the Deschutes Brewing Company where we had a great waitress. It is always such a pleasure to be served by someone who loves not only their job but also their offerings and who can give great advice. She was thrilled and a bit surprised that we complimented her service, making her even more endearing.

Jane, initially excited by sighting a Birkenstock store, was once again thwarted in her search for new Birkies due to the shops limited selection.

As accommodations were now our primary concern we headed out of the city towards a private campground that we were told might have a vacancy. Just outside of town however we passed the Tumalo State Park so we stopped in on spec to see if there were any vacancies. We were looking for two sites for Thursday and three sites for Friday and Saturday. The camp host was not optimistic but the very helpful park ranger did her best to accommodate us and although requiring moving from night to night we eventually had some confidence that we were covered until Saturday night.

Conveniently this park was also located on a river, the Deschutes, which is one of Oregons better known rivers and the section of the river next to the park was open for trout fishing.

After getting settled in and arranging for our upcoming accommodations Diane and I walked along the river for about an hour. It was not as clear a river as we had seen the night before but was very accessible and appeared to easily waded. The park ranger said that the cold weather had stopped any kind of insect hatches but she directed me about a mile upstream to the confluence of the Deschutes and the Tumalo where she said the deep pools were typically more productive.

I returned to the BRT and started unpacking fishing gear from its up till then undisturbed travel spots. Tomorrow promised to be an early rise for me.

As we were all still quite full from our brew pub fare we decided that we all decided the we didn’t need supper and retired early.

Day 51 – May 24

It was an early rise for me, 6:00, as I was goin’ fishin’. I followed the directions of the park ranger from the night before and headed up stream. The path through the woods was well marked and amongst the ponderosa pines there was little undergrowth to impede my progress. She had told me that there would be a rock slide along the path that I would have to walk around/over and she did not understate the task.

The rock slide was more of a boulder slide, with many of the ‘rocks’ the size of small cars. The ranger told me the best route was to go high over the slide, which may have been good advice for someone not dressed in chest waders, felt soled boots and carrying a fishing rod and wading stick. But there was promise of fish beyond so I persevered. It took me about 20 minutes to traverse the rock pile with several moments of reconsideration as I wondered how long it would take someone to find me down one of the many gaps created between what I hoped were solidly wedged boulders.

Once on the other side of the slide I headed further upstream to the promised deeper pools where I started to fish. Unlike the lower reaches of the river, which were shallow with low banks, this section was at the bottom of a steep sided valley and could not be waded so I had to find opportunities along the way to drop down from the path to fish from prominent rocks in the river. Long story short, I had a great walk along the river through beautiful scenery with only one interruption caused by a small rainbow trout – that’s why they call it fishing , not catching.

Close to the end of my walk Diane, Jane and Ike joined me as they walked along the stream. After a hasty late morning breakfast and a clean up we all got into Jane and Ike’s vehicle and drove to Bend. We moved our vehicle to the site that Jane and Ike were going to have that night and hooked I to the power so they could leave the cooler that normally occupies their back seat in the BRT. We were sort of playing musical RVs with the mixture of accommodations that we had set up.

The first stop in Bend was a fishing tackle and outfitters shop where I had a chance to find out good spots to fish and buy some local flies. We also spent some time in the bakery/coffee/wifi spot next door and contacted Sean and Carla to give them the location of the campsite. They were still a couple of hours out so we headed further into Bend to visit the historic mill district, named after the lumber mills that used to support Bends lumber industry, the original reason for its founding.

The mill district was a very upscale shopping area with a mixture of historic and modern brick buildings. Like the rest of Bend we had seen the Mill District was beautifully kept and in very understated good taste. We shopped in the REI outdoors store finding some RV related items that up until then we didn’t know we needed. As I walked out of the store I saw what looked like a familiar vehicle. Upon closer inspection it was the MRT, Sean and Carla had made better time than expected and knowing we were in this area stopped to look around. After a brief discussion we agreed to meet back at the campsite.

Once we juggled vehicles again and settled in, only Jane and Ike had a hookup for the night, Diane and I barbecued shish kebabs accompanied by Carla’s Caesar Salad and Jane’s baked potatoes. Although it was chilly we ate outside next to a campfire.

Day 52 – May 25

Diane and I were up at 6:00 as we had about an hours drive to the Crooked River where I had been told I should be able to get easy access to the river and where there would be lots of small to mid sized trout. There is 10 miles of river where the road is directly along side making access for a tourist fisherman like myself very convenient. The original plan was for Diane to drop me off and then she was going to spend the morning in Prineville and then come back to meet me for lunch. However after having driven through Prineville on the way to the river and not seeing anything extraordinary there and once we realized how far the open part of the river was from Prineville Diane opted to stay with me and follow along with the vehicle as I moved downstream. I have a great wife.

As it turned out once we picked a place to start fishing she only had to move once as the wading was slow due to the moss covered rocks. Although the day started slowly, with few signs of any insects on the water, as the morning wore on and the heat began to build I began to see fish rising to a hatch on the water. Within an hour, the grass on the banks and the air over the river were full of flying insects which started a feeding frenzy amongst the trout. I have been in hatches before but I have never seen this many fly in the air. At times, when the wind picked up, it was like being in a hail storm as these half inch flies peppered my face.

The beauty of being in a hatch is that you get to see how many fish are in the water. The disadvantage is that in a hatch fish will key exclusively to a specific insect and unless you have something that looks exactly like what they are eating you might as well go home. Even if you are fortunate enough to ‘match the hatch’ your fly is now just one of a million that are in the air and on the water so it can be very frustrating as you watch fly after fly being picked off the water all around you while your fly is ignored. I was fortunate enough to catch a few lovely rainbow trout which I returned to the river and I missed dozens more that rose to my fly but I couldn’t hook. Trout make up their mind in an instant if what they have in their mouth is food or foreign matter. Miss that instant and miss that trout. I speak from a world of experience on that matter. Experience that trout continue to give me every day I fish.

I only had three of the ‘magic’ flies that seems to be on the menu that day, having bought a couple of several likely flies at the fishing shop the day before. After straightening out one on a fish, snapping one off on another fish I jealously guarded my last remaining fly which lasted me the rest of the day. Diane made lunch and brought it to the riverside where we sat and enjoyed the beautiful scenery. Did I mention that I have a great wife.

While I fished Diane sat in a chair on the bank reading and working on lexicon puzzles while pointing out rising fish to me. By 4:00 I was feeling the toll of two early mornings back to back so we headed back to our campsite where we were planning to go out for supper with the rest of the gang.

There was a Crooked River

When we arrived back at the campsite the others were already there. In our latest round of accommodations musical chairs we were booked into a yurt. The plan was that we would sleep in the yurt and park the BRT in overflow parking while the MRT and LRT would use the two available parking spots on the site and sleep in their vehicles. The park ranger had approved this arrangement. However in just one more switchback on our road to sleepy time we were advised that we couldn’t park two RVs on the site. Luckily there had just been a cancellation of a tenting site so Sean and Carla took that site and we were finally set for the night.

Jane and Ike spent their day visiting Sisters where they had a great day in a lovely quaint town where they enjoyed the opera singer at the cafe along with the many galleries and shops.

From Sean and Carla. We had a late start to our day (13:00), catching up on some much needed sleep and went into Bend for the afternoon. Went to a local fair in a park with lots of cool stuff, mostly crafty stuff I have no time for… (kidding). Then headed to Pine Tree Micro-Brewery and tried a few lagers not yet released commercially. Then sat out on their deck overlooking the river and had a very nice lunch. This restaurant/micro-brewery is known for having a large (actually 2) pine trees growing through the center of the dining area.

Pine Tree Deck

Pine Trees in Bar (and Carla’s back)

I have poked fun at the Novi Spring weather as ours has been phenomenal for almost 40 days but some slight revenge took place this morning with 7 deg C and rain overnight, I mean rain, wow! But of course we are in Oregon in Spring near 5000ft so that may have something to do with it and all the hills around us are snow covered but I will cease my anti-Novi-Spring rants for a while as a result of this recent experience 😉

End section from Sean & Carla and back to Uncle Phil

We loaded up the BRT, which has seat belts for six, and headed into Bend for supper. We had made reservations at Greg’s Grill in the Mill District based on several recommendations. We were not disappointed with either their meat, fish or dessert offerings.

My apologies for the lack of photos in the posting. This fishing business can be a distraction.

From Sean & Carla, still footloose and fancy free  but looking forward to catching up with the others in Bend OR

We left our sand dune refuge of a park and continued north on Route 1. Again, vista after vista greeted us. The road followed the coastline quite tightly with a scarcity of guard rails in many places. The beaches below were often black with volcanic sand. The biggest treat was wind had dropped overnight and you were no longer subject to exfoliation with every vista stop for pictures.

Beaches & Islands & Waves

Our aim was to check out the giant redwood trees that frequent this region of the coast. we stopped at the National Redwood Forest Park information station that covered the national park but also covered information on the 3 state parks that the national park contained… all 3 state parks had Redwood in their name so all quite confusing. As we intended to make tracks as far north as possible to allow us an easier Friday drive to meet with the other two couples in Bend OR. That gave us an option of either spending the night in a 2nd growth (had been cut sometime in the past 150 years) redwood forest or continue north to Jedediah Smith National Park, an original old growth forest, that just happens to contain (learned this later) the tallest tree in the world called Hyperion. Hyperion is measured at 115.61 metres (379.3 ft), which ranks it as the world’s tallest known living tree. Hyperion was only discovered on August 25, 2006 by two guys (Atkins & Taylor) in a remote area of the park. They used laser measuring equipment to get the height. A later confirmation was achieved when it was actually scaled and a tape was lowered to the ground. This was apparently part of a National Geographic special. The exact location of the tree has not been revealed to the public for fear that human traffic would upset the ecosystem that the tree inhabits. The tree is estimated to contain 18,600 cubic feet (530 m3) of wood, and to be roughly 700–800 years old. We didn’t get to see this tree but anything over 150 feet is pretty spectacular. The trunks of these trees are largely bare of branches until well above 50-60 feet from the ground which makes them appear quite stately.

A video of the big reds in an area off the main route…

BigTrees

There are some giant redwoods on private land and a few of these have been abused to make tourist attractions. There were two along this route but another was way back in Yosemite. They used it as a tourist attraction in the 20s and 30s before common sense kicked in. The one visited was tight but we got the MRT through by using all of Carla’s olive oil. And then of course we had to take it to a car wash as we smelled like salad.

Squeak!

Anyhow, all very stunning as per usual. Our campsite was perfect, backing on a crystal clear fast running stream/river with big trees all around.

Marge wannabees tending the fire

Majestic

Bears were an issue so cooking spareribs on a Q for dinner was a little like playing with fire. But we survived any incursions and enjoyed the rest of the evening swilling a nice red wine by the fire. The park was the best we have been in. No hookups but the quiet, the nearby stream, the ultra-modern washrooms with hot showers all helped with the experience.

You can tell we were further north as the price of firewood halved from the previous stop and water didn’t appear to be an issue as showers were now 50 cents for 5 minutes where some desert locations were 1 dollar for 3 minutes… just not enough. In the past two days we have basically seen a greening of the landscape as we move north and inland too.

Day 49 – May 22

Having lost some ground the previous day on our schedule to be in Bend by Thursday, we wanted to head out before 9:00 with a destination of Crater Lake. Before that however we all wanted to take advantage of the pay showers in the park. Diane returned from her venture to the shower warning of scalding temperatures and lacklustre water flow, a combination that required her to step out of the shower stream to rinse off with cold water from the sink taps.

Learning from Diane’s mistake I went into what appeared to be the unisex washrooms on the women’s side of the bathroom building. I settled into what I will call the pay shower routine. Pay showers start timing as soon as you drop your money in the slot, whether you have the water on or not, so the drill for the thrifty is get your clothes off and your soap ready, drop in your coins and then get at it. The shower is timed in minutes so lots of quarters or some quick scrubbing are the order of the day.

I was just about to put my money in the slot when I realized that my shower room, although equipped with a separate exterior door, shared a dividing partition (that didn’t go right to the floor) with the adjacent room. These were obviously not unisex showers. At that same time I also noticed that this partition only went about 5 feet high. Understanding that I was in California where things that shouldn’t be shaved get shaved and things that should be shaved aren’t, I wasn’t sure if my my hairy feet would have been a give away to someone in the next stall but I was pretty sure that my shiny head would be a dead, and possibly unhappy, give away to any female occupant of the next room so I put my coins back in my pocket (euphemistically at least as my birthday suit does not have pockets as standard issue), got dressed and went in search of the men’s showers.

Having located them as one might expect on the other side of the building, I reversed the process and once again stood poised, soap and coins at the ready. Now everyone knows the heartbreaking sound of a coin that slides right throughout a vending machine without catching and exits into the slot at the bottom with a smug clang that in machine talk means
‘I’m not in the mood today buddy’. In disbelief I tried my complete collection of quarters to no avail other than sounding like the first bars of Verdi’s Anvil Chorus. This time I opted for just a few discretely placed clothes as I moved into what appeared to be my last non scalding shower option. Third time was the charm and my 5 minute shower felt all the sweeter after the effort required.

Our drive took us north to Crescent City where we stopped for coffee and wifi. We touched base with the Sean and Carla who were then on their way to rendezvous with us on Thursday or Friday at Bend. At Crescent City we left the northerly running 101 and joined the north east running 199. As we were once again heading inland we were braced for another narrow twisting hilly road but were pleasantly surprised by a much more driveable but no less scenic road than we had been on the previous days. At its start the 199 paralleled the Smith River, a gin clear river that tumbled over falls into deep green pools of water. Even at it deepest you could see the rocks at the bottom of the pools. Although a fly fisherman’s dream, none were sighted along its highly accessible banks. There had to be fish in that river.

We soon crossed over the border into Oregon which was signalled not only by a change in scenery but a decided change in building style. Gone were the manicured properties and pristine houses of northern California, replaced by what I would categorize as a more folksy style, sort of an Alaska South style, lots of low buildings, lots of wood and lots of clutter, junked cars, log carvings, half ton trucks etc. we were back in Bubba country.

We stopped along the way for gas and later pulled over at a road side rest stop where we all had dinner in the BRT before we joined onto the I-5 heading towards Crater Lake. We passed a fishing shop along the way where I bought an Oregon fishing license. There was a photo in the store of a large salmon caught in the river the ran alongside the road which further wet my appetite to get fishing. Not far down the road a group of trucks were parked by the river, a sure sign of fishing activity so I pulled over to investigate. There were several fishermen along the banks of the fast flowing river and as I watched one of them hooked into and landed a large salmon, probably in excess of 15 lb. -another good omen.

There’s definitely fish in there

We pressed on as we were still short of our goal of Crater Lake, at almost 2000 feet deep, the deepest lake in America, formed by the explosion of a volcano that sent debris as far away as Saskatchewan.The sunny skies of the morning had slowly dissolved into overcast with a few periods of rain. As we started to climb closer to Crater Lake I noticed that the rain drops were developing a pattern that looked familiar from home, very much like wet snow. Couldn’t be, two days before we were sweltering in the heat of California. But, considering the chilly outside temperatures and our increasing elevation mentally I allowed for the possibility that some ice crystals formed high in the atmosphere could make it to ground and we braced ourselves for a cold night.

As we climbed further there was no doubt that we were seeing real snowflakes and we began to see areas where there was a light icing sugar dusting of snow on the road shoulder. At this point we found it quite amusing and stopped to take a record photograph – in hindsight let’s say that we peaked a little early on the photo op. The few flakes quickly began to build into a proper snow fall as we continued on the road and the wiper blades began to have some challenges in keeping the windshield clear. The light dusting of snow on the shoulder of the road that we had found so amusing earlier had quickly grown into full blown snow banks three feet deep but the heat of the asphalt still kept the snow from accumulating on the road. Clearly the winter snow accumulation in the woods had not yet thawed.

As we finally reached the entry to the Crater Lake National Park which, surprise, was unoccupied, a sign in the window welcomed visitors and advised that all roads except the one on which we had entered were closed – due to snow. By now the towering ponderosa pine that line the road were hanging heavy with snow. I won’t exaggerate to say that we were in a blizzard but it was certainly a full blown snow fall, very contrary to my driving clothes of light shoes and T-shirt and extremely contrary to a vehicle with summer tires and gallons of water and piping that would not behave well in freezing weather.

We pulled into the park lodge parking lot to find that everything except the washrooms were closed. A quick conference with Jane and Ike lead to the conclusion that we had one option – get the hell out of Dodge as fast as possible – and we swung around and headed back down the road we had just climbed with all due hast possible in top heavy vehicles in a snow storm.

Crater Lake

Oh the weather outside is frightful…

In 15 minutes we passed from waist deep snow drifts to sheep and cattle grazing in green fields. I did note that the sheep were wearing coats. None of my travel partners noticed but trust me they all had on little doggie style white coats. We make winter clothes out of wool and these little wool factories have to wear coats in this weather? Maybe the local Chamber of Commerce thinks seeing fields full of frozen sheep, their rigid little hooves pointed skyward would be bad for tourism and co sponsor some sweaters for sheep program. My hope was that this would be the record for the most dramatic climate change of the trip.

Not far from our exit from the Crater Lake Winter Wonderland and Deep Freeze Amusement Park we found the Collier Memorial State Park. The Oregon Parks info described it as located at the fork of two prolific rainbow and brown trout streams where campers could walk to the streams and fish. Now this sounded like my kind of State Park so decision made. So I am now poised, license – check, fishing gear – check, spot to fish – double check, wife who wants me to go fishing – check, seen fish caught – quadruple check. Imagine for a moment if you will my disbelief as we pulled into the park to read the big yellow sign advising anglers (or in my case anglers in waiting) that trout season didn’t start for three more days. Fishus interruptus, pull out of the stream now buddy before its too late. Re-reading the sign three times and then consulting my regulations didn’t change anything, I was at the pearly gates of fishing and St. Peter was on a freaking bank holiday.

After getting set up Ike and I went for a walk along the river. Deep inside I was hoping to find some dry river bed, incapable of supporting any fish life. I was to be disappointed in that hope as we broke from the woods onto a beautiful deep dark stream with grassy banks, perfect for fly fishing. As we walked further along this stream converged with the second promised stream at a small waterfall. Unlike its mating stream this one was shallower and crystal clear, and what do I see slowly finning into the strong flow but three trout, the largest of which easily had to be 16-18 inches. This was cruel and unusual punishment. This only could have become worse if the fish started to rise to a mayfly hatch. I needed a drink, or two.

Again the chilly temperatures led to another communal meal in the BRT. Pasta and tomato sauce was the fare for the night, good comfort food for the chilly night ahead.

From Sean and Carla and a short one at that!

Seriously, how many times can you say WOW in a trip? I mean, “Oh look, we are driving along a cliff with a 1500 foot drop to the surf below and nary a guardrail to help save us… yawn!” You see these pictures in two dimensions, we get them in 4 dimensions… the view, the smells and the sense of all… too cool.

We left our park promptly at 12:30 after a bacon buttie and a FaceTime with the BRT and LRT folks. We continued up coastal Route 1, the same track (and that is a good description for some of the roadway in places) we had followed from San Fran early yesterday. One amazing vista after another! We ran through the Tamales Bay area which is famous for oysters and wind. It was blowing 30-40 knots (sunny of course) and a lone windsurfer was running back and forth across this inlet at huge speeds and getting lots of air flying off waves.

This area of Route 1 runs through and along the San Andreas Fault line but we were very brave and continued regardless.

Onward north, we stopped often for pictures that varied from dune panoramas to the Cliffs of Dover to the Giants Causeway in Ireland, all beautiful. The communities along the way were trendy, well sculpted and some perched on the edge of cliffs ensuring they will be first to go with the next bump from San Andreas. Lots of Art Galleries, novelty and antique shops and the like. Villages like Bodega Bay, Jenner and Mendocino all top the list. As a suggestion, just travel the coast if you go, simple as that and you can’t go wrong. Just don’t expect to make any time on these roads but who cares.

Click on any image to load full format… but I know you know that…

A long and winding road…

Finally decided to quit for the day near 18:00, later than usual for us again but what the heck. We ended up just north of Fort Bragg at a State Park called MacKerricher. Right on the beach on the Mendocino shore complete with Harbour Seals and lots of surfers. Wild and nice but likely too chilly for a beach fire… but we’ll see.

Our campsite

Hoping to catch up with the other RTers by Friday night…

Day 48 – May 21

As we had a long drive ahead of us to our planned stop for the night close to the Oregon border we we moving by 8:30. We were greeted by a beautiful clear morning as we hit the coast. This was the scenery we had been hoping for on our drive along the southern part of the California coastal highway. Although we could see fog banks far off shore, the coast was bathed in sunlight and we had a great panorama of the aqua blue water crashing against the coastal cliffs. In combination with the the vast array of beautiful blooming wild flowers it was hard to focus on the road ahead.

I can see clearly now

After several stops to admire and photograph the many views and after having passed through several of the pristine communities that line the highway we arrived in Mendocino. Mendocino was founded in the 1850s as a fishing village by fishermen from New England who, along with their trade, brought their architectural aesthetic. The gabled roofs and brightly painted shingled walls stood in stark contrast to the monochromatic communities of Sea Ranch that we had passed through a couple of days earlier.

Mendocino

Although now primarily a tourist destination Mendocino has not allowed this change in vocation to overtake its self respect and as we explored the shops and galleries that lined its streets we were impressed with not only the quality of the goods but the understated presentations in the store fronts. We spent some time exploring the town and having found a coffee shop with wifi we took the opportunity to send off an update email to our San Francisco contingent and to hastily update the blog which did have some typo and grammar issues at the time (one of the downsides to retirement is that I don’t have Mary to check my work any more) .

Leaving Mendocino we continued north towards the Red Wood forest that was our planned destination for the night, encountering dozens of oncoming cyclists on the twisting and hilly roads, some of whom had resorted to walking their bikes up the long, steep inclines. Again, as the day before, there was not a lot of traffic on this road, due largely I’m sure to the slow pace that can be maintained, so the slower pace of our vehicles as we rubber necked our way along the coast was not causing a back up.

As we approached the late afternoon we realized that our target of the Red Wood Forest was a bit ambitious so we checked our maps and found Patrick’s Point State Park, just south of Orick, to spend the night. Nestled in a cedar and red wood forest right on the coast the dry camping sites were well protected from the apparently incessant on-shore wind that makes this coast such a surfers paradise.

The beauty of dry camping sites is that there is no set up time, if the site is level you just park and you are done, so we decided to take a walk down to the beach. We dressed for the cool weather and the aforementioned wind but were pleasantly surprised to find that a nearby headland protected us from the worst of the wind as we unsuccessfully combed the beach for the agates it was named for. However there were great piles of sand worn driftwood that provided endless amusement as we identified various creatures amongst their smooth shapes. Jane’s find of a an iconic Canadian beaver warranted its return trip to the LRT.

Patrick’s State Park beach

As the sun set we returned to the BRT dining room to sample a fresh tomato and basil tart cooked perfectly by Diane in our propane oven. Followed with a slice of Mendocino’s finest pecan pie topped with a scoop of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream we brought an end to another great day.

From Sean & Carla:

Woke late with the white noise of the hotel air conditioner humming, very nice to sleep in but we did want to spend more time in San Francisco, especially along the water front where all the action seems to be taking place. And a free, if skimpy breakfast always helps motivate when 10AM rolls around. Ended up in Fisherman’s Wharf at the same 21$ parking lot. SF Bay was blowing again and with an opposing tide looks like a formidable place to sail, certainly not for the faint of heart. The 105s here must have a blast but you can see where the AC45s and AC72s would be on the very edge of sanity at full plane.

Wandered the waterfront, visited Starbucks to rejuvenate then headed for lunch at an authentic, yet not cheap place (forgot to check the menu outside). It included valet parking which would have been fun for the MRT to be parked amongst the Mercedes and BMWs. But it was tight outside as Scoma’s sits right on the dock and features among other things, its own fish landing facility. Your server details what is available from the fresh fish list. With some excellent clam chowder (for which they are famous), a shrimp cocktail and a crab cocktail, we were stuffed. The entire wait staff seemed to be well heeled and in their 60s at least and looked like they might have been there for ever but the service was impeccable and the food perfect in taste and presentation. No Monterey guppy & spuds here. And certainly not a bad lunch for a bunch of lowly RVers from Novi 😉

More time spent on the waterfront but the weird and wonderful seem to come out later in the day so not as colorful as the previous day. And no serious AC sailing taking place, damn! Left mid-afternoon and headed for Sausalito and West Marine, groceries, propane, gas and a few other necessities. But we did get to stop at the Golden Gate overlook and what a view!

Panorama SF Bay

As we were approaching Sausalito on the freeway, an older pickup truck pulled alongside and yelled over, “Where you from in Nova Scotia”, I responded with the typical Halifax and he yelled back he was from Cape Sable Island… small world what? He finished with a “Welcome” and then blasted past. His truck had California tags so he might have escaped from Novi some time ago. We did yell back at him that Cape Sable is a very nice place.

By time we actually hit the road northbound it was getting on for 17:00, well past our usual roosting time but we did travel the Pacific Coat Route 1 through some spectacular forest so that kept us in awe. Rolling hills then we would encounter massive trees that formed a perfect canopy above the roadway. And it was slow going. Through one section of the state park for Samuel P. Taylor we would have lost dentures had we possessed any it was so bumpy, but once we were out and traveling on the much improved ‘Waverley-Road’ like sections, the rattling stopped (too many wine bottles from Napa/Sonoma perhaps).

After passing through the village of Point Reyes Station we rounded a curve and saw a police car blocking the road ahead with lights flashing and a very firm hand-waving that meant turn around and go back. The body-language suggested that pulling up to ask the obvious questions would have resulted in a much firmer response than desired. We and a few others promptly turned around with great difficulty on the narrow road and headed back. We stopped at the Point Reyes National Park info center near the village center. They checked with the police department to see why the road was blocked and how long before it would re-open (there were no options to go around without adding many hours to our drive). A returned call said it was an accident and that it would be ‘some time’ before it was cleared. We have seen too many accidents on this trip and it always causes a pause for reflection and hopeful thoughts for those involved.

The park staff told us the village had a small campground so that made our decision to stay put easy. A nice meal of salmon (this was likely farmed salmon at 18$ a pound versus the advertised special of wild Pacific salmon at 28$ a pound – doesn’t pay to shop for groceries near yacht clubs), asparagus and rice on the Q followed the laundering duties. It was too cold (15C) and windy due to our position just over the dunes from the Pacific to sit out with a fire so perhaps tomorrow night.

Day 47 – May 20

An detailed morning planning session was in order as Sean and Carla were planning a couple day side trip to San Francisco and we wanted to make sure that we had a rendezvous plan well in place. So after heartfelt hugs and best wishes the armadillo temporarily split up with promises to keep in touch as much as wifi access would allow.

Our plan was to head north and west to resume our trip along the California coast. Healdsburg, which we had visited only briefly the previous Saturday, was along that route so we decided to give it a more lengthy visit. The drive there was through endless fields of grape vines and their associated winery estates, each one successively announcing its presence through their substantial entry gates, tasteful signs and roadside gardens, with winding tree lined roads leading to the estate. I don’t think it would be possible to visit every winery in this area and still have an in tact liver. The magnitude of the wine industry in this area is overwhelming.

We arrived at Healdsburg at around 11:00 after making one stop at a roadside vendor to buy a basket of fresh cherries. Each brilliant red cherry was like a little explosion of sweetness and flavour. it is such a treat to have produce that is absolutely fresh.

We did have a couple of goals for the day, the BRT needed refuelling, we all needed to have some laundry done and I needed a small repair to my reading glasses. We found a laundromat next to Big John’s market, a substantial grocery store brimming over with fresh produce. Ike volunteered to baby sit the laundry while Jane, Diane and I headed into the town centre to look around. The plaza was decidedly more quite than it had been on Saturday and many of the galleries surrounding the square were closed, an indication that, as we had been told, Healdsburg is a big tourist destination.

We visited a couple of galleries and I found a place to fix my glasses as well as a leather shop where I bought a belt for the buckle that I had bought in Tijuana. Italian leather bought in USA and a Mexican buckle, sort of a mini united nations around my personal equator.

After a quick lunch at Big Johns we headed further north. Once we left the main collection of the large winery estates we entered endless field of vineyards, the production fields that support the phalanx of estates wineries we had just passed through. Virtually every foot of arable, accessible real estate is dedicated to grape production.

Before long we headed west for the coast. Our maps showed a road heading to Stewarts Point on the ocean so we plugged that into our GPS and headed off. Now on the map it appeared as a harmless little line with a few squiggles. The reality was quite different. As we were headed for the coast we knew that we would be climbing and descending the western ridge of the Sonoma Valley but weren’t prepared for just how winding and narrow the upcoming road would be.

In theory this was a 2 lane road. In practice however the road morphed from a narrow convoluted mash of interconnected switchbacks to a paved goat path and back again. In many places there was no centre lane marked because to have put one in would have allowed about 5 feet per lane, with not a guardrail to be seen. Mercifully there was little oncoming traffic which in hindsight tells me that the locals know better.

All that being said however it was one of the most beautiful drives we have had, in one moment providing us with spectacular views down the cliff sides and a moment later moving into the shelter of a majestic redwood forest. The magnificent trees rose hundreds of feet over our heads creating a canopy of branches that blocked out the sun. The bases of some of these giants easily measured 6 to 8 feet across and we understood that these weren’t the ‘big’ redwoods.

The Redwoods

After about an hour of this alternating jaw dropping scenery and near death driving experiences we broke out onto that coast and were treated to a beautiful view of the blue Pacific Ocean. Heading north we passed through a community called Sea Ranch. This was an elite planned community populated with houses of a very uniform design style. This is where the California beach house style is personified. The soffitless 45 degree angled shingled roofs capping walls of vertical weathered cedar siding were the signature style for miles along the coast highway.

The ‘wide’ part of the ‘road’

At one point we were taken by a unique structure and we had to turnaround to see it. Ignoring the no RV’s sign we proceeded into the small parking lot of the building. It turned out to be a non denominational chapel that was funded by the Sea Ranch community and it was a marvellous building with not a 90 degree corner to be found. Beautiful stained glass windows frames the views and hand carved benched afforded an opportunity to co template the small unique space. However our reflections were soon disrupted by a member of the Sea Ranch private security force ( did I mention that this was an exclusive community) who came into enforce the no RV rule.

The Chapel

Magical

After a stop in a shoe shop in Gualala when Jane found some long sought after ox blood shoe polish but was disappointed in her ongoing search for new Birkenstocks. As it had turned 6:00and there was a campground nearby we headed for the Gualala River Redwood Campground where we found two lovely sites, no doubling up at this park.

The sites are worked in amongst the towering protected redwoods and as a result are very spacious. Being amongst these trees reminded me of the Ents, the ancient tree people in Lord of the Rings. For me, any living thing this size assumes a personality and demands the respect due something that has survived possibly hundreds of years. I felt privileged to share their space.

Camping with the Ents

Jane and Ike cooked up an awesome supper of chicken fajitas and we enjoyed a great campfire in a stone ring. A much nicer setting than the typical steel drums we have been using in other parks. Would have liked to share this with Sean and Carla. It was a good day.