Sunday, September 12, 2010
Several of the great sights on the Oregon Coast are the bridges, built during the 30's in art deco style, of concrete and green steel. There are several as the traveler crosses the many rivers that empty into the Pacific...Pistol, Umpqua, Elk. Smith. And, of course, the dunes. But first, the fish....chowder in Brookings for lunch, fresh coho salmon from a local fish market for dinner. A stop at Fred Meyer's my favorite store in Oregon, an amble up 101 on a beautiful day, over the huge bay at Coos Bay and the south end of the dunes. More dune sightings through forests and along beaches, landing at Honeyman State Park at the north end. Oregon State Parks are terrific with water and electricity hook-ups; this one is huge and well populated even after Labor Day.
Monday, September 13
On to Heceta Light House, seen from below another wonderful bridge, with its nearby B&B. Innumerable creeks and streams run into the ocean, 75 in the Florence area alone, so there are plenty of small beaches and picnic areas. Our walk to one such showed us what 'drift logs' are like. There are warnings and warnings about not walking/sitting on the drift logs as they can turn and take you to the ocean in a heartbeat. They are more like drift trees to me, absolutely huge, and some riddled with holes made by a particular kind of clam that burrows into them.
Yachats, a cute small town, provided coffee and fuel; Newpoert and Lincoln City are big slurbs except for Salishan resort. We crossed the 45th parallel, announced the sign. South of Tillamook, there are miles of dairy land, green pastures, horses, surrounded by forest. Nestucca and Beaver, small towns. And the world's largest wooden structure, it says, one of two that housed blimps doing coastal reconnaisance during WWII. (Where's the spell check when I need it?) Now the one remaining houses an air museum. Cheese was our main stop, of course, Blue Heron French cheese and Tillamook, where we watched the cheese making process. The aged Extra Sharp White is just the best. And Tillamook Bay looked gorgeous in the setting sun. Overnight at Newhalem, another wonder OSP, with a playground for Lucy to chase her ball.
Tuesday, September 14
Breakfast at Wanda's in Newhalem has inspired me to make omelettes with smoked salmon, cream cheese and scallions. Yum yum.
Astoria, on the Washington border, offered Fort Stevens, and Fort Clatsop where Lewis and Clark wintered after 'finding' the Pacific Ocean...a good replica of the log structures where the party of 24 or so lived in the rain. I don't think I've ever crossed into Washington from Astoria before..astounding how huge the mouth of the Columbia River is! A small Hoaquim River spot provided an RV park with a laundry, about time, but no wifi working that day.
Wednesday, September 15
Woke to real rain, what did we expect as we drove on to the Olympic Peninsula? Quinault's old lodge was a wonderful stopping place for coffee, reminding us of the time we spent there years ago on a road trip with friends. It's one of four lodges in the National Forest and National Park managed by a concessionaire. The Hoh rain forest is a perfect environment for Douglas fir (250 feet tall), Western hemlock, Sitka spruce, red alder and red cedar trees, combining an ocean influence with mountain environment. Everything, and I do mean everything, is covered with epiphytes, air plants that live on trees and bushes. The Olympic National Park and forest comprise close to 1 million acres and are 95% wilderness. One of the not-wilderness areas is Sol Duc (I have no idea what THAT means) with a lodge and cabins, but most importantly, hot springs.
Thursday, September 16
Having spent the night in the campground, we arrived bathing suits it hand to check into the springs, just behind 50 college freshmen from Seattle Univ. on a getting-to-know-you trip. Happily, the pools were large and the people watching great. Noticed that several obsese girls didn't go into the pools but stayed in their sweats, but others did. On the whole, not much obesity but lots of cute YOUNG girls and boys. Lunch at the outdoor cafe, noticed leaves turning on the trees, bought sweatshirts, headed for Lake Crescent and Port Angeles. Passed up the Log Cabin Lodge...although we were thinking of staying indoors one night....as there was nothing appealing about a plain wooden structure with no fireplace, and one the lakeside in the rain. Port Angeles provided wonderful coffee, a chat with the barrista about using lavender in cooking, new windshield wipers, and a solution to the problem of why the Passenger's seat won't slide anymore, preventing the Blogger from getting to the laptop which is hidden in the hidey-hole. A Coke bottle cap, courtesy of Lucy, was lodged somewhere in the track and a new body shop guy pulled it out.
Friday, September 16
Chestnut Cottage for breakfast and the best french toast Gene has ever had; he is eternally on the search, and this Creme Brulee French Toast did it. My Dungeness crab omelette with cheese and an apricot walnut scone also got rave reviews, and half saved for tomorrow. We've been to Hurricane Ridge twice before always in the rain and fog, so were reluctant to try it this time, again in the fog and rain. But a stop at the visitor center in Port Angeles showed us the web cam at the top, with a ridge of mountain showing above the fog and below the clouds. And by gosh, that's what we saw after the 18 mile drive up the mountain. Lovely, lovely, and I can only imagine what the scene would show in the sunshine, when and if. On to Sequim (skwim) and the Dungeness Spit, a dinner of cracked crab after a visit to Sunny Farms the most fabulous grocery/nursery...looks like a roadside stand that grew out of all proportion, but stocked like Whole Foods or the Woodland Market. Marvelous, and worth another trip tomorrow.
Saturday, September 17
We're off to the Farmer's Market here in Sequim, to amble a bit on the Spit, see the Railroad Bridge park, and shop for lavender products on the main drag. After we clean up Lucy, mop up the spilled coffee, and toast some of last night's sourdough. Maybe the fog will even lift!
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Fall trip to the Northwest 2010
NEVADA CITY TO MT LASSEN NP
SEPT. 7, 2010Tuesday.
You know how some days just don't start right? And don't get much better as the day grinds on? The gardener didn't show up. The frustration of finding that the $1,000 fix on the automatic levelers isn't working properly was only surpassed by Gail spending over an hour trying to upload to the iPod the download from Audible books, with no luck. Which resulted in a very late start and then a trip to the library to get some books on tape for the journey. (Gene maintained his cool through all this and was very supportive...until later.)
And the shakedown of the first few miles didn't go so well either. I hadn't harnessed Lucy, the hood wasn't completely latched, and the drivers in the library parking lot were making the Driver crazy. Eager to get going, he drove off without his seat belt on and had to buckle up while managing our 6 tons of metal, fiberglass, rubber and household.goods. Which drives the Passenger crazy. It doesn't help that the 'jacks down' light came on, Gene's hat slid off the shelf above, boink, and the ear piece on Gail's glasses came loose. We had just reached Highway 20 in Grass Valley.
This east to west highway across our part of Northern California is much improved from its earlier narrow twisted route, but the sight of fresh scorched earth, a cross and flowers testified to its still dangerous nature. The frustrations of the morning and the pushing of cars and trucks behind leads the Driver to go faster than he might, and the Passenger in the second seat to express her terror in bad language. But, reaching Woodruff Lane, we entered a world of little traffic, lush greenery, and harvest machinery waiting near the grain silos for ripening crops. The occasional BUMP sign doesn't do justice to this beat-up road.
Highway 70, south to north between Yuba City and Oroville is a fruit and nut orchard corridor, with truck farms off to the side. Walnut, pistachio, olive, peach, nectarine, apricot, plum and kiwi...then signs for melons, corn, tomatoes, and lots of fruit stands and a roach coach or two. Names on the properties were Italian, Mexican, Mormon (Desert Farms), and others. Mariani drying sheds numbered at least three. There was a tree nursery of several acres . And suddenly we were out of green and into golden fields of baled hay with a second crop growing. Oroville Dam loomed ahead, signs for the casino flashed by, and Red Bluff was next.
Highway 36 heads east out of Red Bluff toward Manton, our destination for the night. Drove Manton Road to the Indian Peak Vineyards on Forward Road where Donna and Fred Boots met us at their wine barn and tasting room. We were their first Harvest Hosts guests, and this was our first www.harvesthosts.com try at dry camping on private property. The Boots were most gracious and over several tastes of wine they had made, from their own and neighbors grapes, we heard their story. And bought three bottles of wine, which they insisted we didn't have to do, but after 'tasting' the equivalent of a glass or two apiece, we decided it was a good idea. These grandparents and entrepeneurs have spent the last 7 years planting growing harvesting and wine making, while living in a small trailer next to the wine barn. Sold their Cottonwood home at the peak of the market, retired from their jobs, quit commuting, and settled in to work their buns off. Very good wine, by the way.
SAVE THE EARTH...IT'S THE ONLY PLANET THAT MAKES WINE
Wednesday. What do you know, it's raining! Woke to a downpour, but soldiered on over small country roads ever climbing to Shingletown (Hwy 44), past the Wild Horse Sanctuary, and Mt. Lassen National Park. Not a local rain this, reports from all over northern Northern California were the same. So there goes our plan to drive slowly and hike through Lassen. I mean it's pouring. As the ranger said, the mountain makes its own weather. Ah well, time to catch up from the rigors of packing and leaving, take the day off and read Sunday's paper. Settled down in an almost empty campground, levelers working OK now, and then discovered we were almost out of propane....which fuels the stove, the furnace, the hot water heater, the refrigerator. Bolted for the nearby store....no propane. Back to Shingletown, down the highway about 15 miles, and returned, mission accomplished. Still pouring. Good DVD, good wine, nice supper, warm and cozy.
Thursday. The plan is to drive, hike, picnic our way through this lovely park from the NW corner to the SW corner, and head for the coastal redwoods. Our ancient Interagency Senior Pass leaves us feeling a bit guilty for free admittance to all national parks and half price dry camping to boot, but then, we pay taxes, don't we?
Thursday con't. No rain! A late start on the drive/hike through Lassen, and on the first part of the drive we heard a mysterious thumping and bumping from underneath the kitchen. Although the Driver spread a blanket and crawled under Betsy by the side of the road, no reason for mysterious sound could be found. So on to Bumpass Hell overlook. Well done signs explained Mt. Tehama, a huge volcano, imploded eons ago, leaving a ring of mountain peaks surrounding the caldera in which we stood....Mt. Conrad, Brokeoff Mountain, etc. It looked daunting from where we stood, but the guide book said the 1.5 mile hike (3 mi. RT) was moderate, so off we went over rocky narrow trails on the edge of the caldera with views of forests below and beyond, peaks and valleys in the far distance. A small gain in elevation over the rocky scramble, then a sharp drop down into the steaming pools of sulfurous (read, stinky) and noisy fumeroles and boiling mud pots. The boardwalk kept us from straying into dangerous ground. Poor Kendall VanHook Bumpass lost his dream of turning this area into a tourist attraction in the mid-19th c, along with the leg that fell through the crust into the boiling liquid below. Plenty of people on the trail, although I thought it was cold, in the mid 50's. And surprisingly, lupine still in bloom on the sunny slopes. Huffed and puffed our way back out and felt good about our 1.5 hour excursion until we met a group who had already climbed Mt. Lassen and were going to amble to Bumpass Hell. Oh, well, we're old.
Mineral is the tiny town at the SW entrance to Mt. Lassen Volcanic NP, and we spent our third night of dry camping nearby at Battle Creek NFS campground. The Driver prefers hookups but is clever enough to bring a 'water thief' so we can put water directly into Betsy via our hose and this gadget, which keeps coming off the faucet-with-no-threads and dowsing the 'thief'. Another frosty night makes me glad to be in the woods in a fiberglass box with a furnace and not in a tent or a dreary freeway motel. For entertainment there are always other campers....the elderly couple (by that I mean even older than we are) riding around the campground loop on their fold-up bikes, the campground host(ess) dressed for work leaving at 8 a.m., men with long grey beards and cammies (the sign did say Hunters Welcome on a dreary rv park nearby), the squirrels carrying bright green moss for their winter nests, bird calls, tall trees.
Friday Sept. 10 In under an hour, we dropped 4000 feet in elevation and rose 25 degrees in temperature as Highway 36 took us into Red Bluff for emptying and filling. It's a very mild 75-80 degrees in this normally blistering part of the upper Sacramento Valley. The 'downtown' is somewhat threadbare; all the new shops are on the outskirts in the shopping centers with the big box stores you would expect, plus eateries and entertainment. Crossing both I 5 and the wide and beautiful Sacramento River, we chose Hiway 36 to the coast. The scenery along this route is why California is called green and golden, with dry grass hills, pastures and green trees and bushes. Add pines, manzanita, oaks, berry bushes and cottonwoods and you can see where the water flows. In the middle of nowhere is the R Ranch, with a store, an R Ranch RV lot, the R Wild Horse Ranch, and a few other enterprises. Evidence of a long ago forest fire travels alongside for miles and miles. Then the appearance of Digger Pines tells us we are at about 1,500 to 2,000 feet elevation as we climb and twist our way up the Coast Range. Higher elevations bring taller trees; signs point to Hayfork and Rat Trap Gap, both of which intrigue but don't take us off course. Roads have numbers, not names. The Traveling Wilburys and Bonnie Raitt provide background music. At Mad River there are increasing signs of habitation..farms, church, fire department, grazing horses, abandoned logging sites, trailer park and an air strip with a single orange wind sock. Past Dinsmore miles of narrow, bumpy, winding road with no center line, steep drops on the Passenger side, and at one blind curve, a semi coming the other way in the deep and towering forest. Time for this more than 100 mile trek to end! Brake check areas make me nervous especially when followed by a 10% grade sign and the heart-stopping twisting drop and 10 mph curves. After hours of this, Hwy 36 has begun to lose its charm. But the road levels a bit, shoulders and a center line reappear. Mellowed out with Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto we finally drop down at Hydesville into a lush agricultural valley, just before Hwy. 101, over the Eel River, past a thriving lumber mill at Scotia, on our way to Weott and the Humboldt Redwood State Park. I won't bore you with the details of landing for the night, but just know we went 14 miles out of our way searching for the campground, and once there discovered we had left the windshield privacy cover at last night's camp. And the fees for camping at CA state parks are now $45.00. Oh well. No more guilt feelings about not paying enough.
Saturday Sept. 11 The rumble strip on Hwy 101 N took our front right hub cap and although the Driver was good enough to turn around (twice) and we found two hubcaps, neither was ours. Now we have two left. Before the bad start to the day, we walked through magnificient Coast Redwoods, grove after grove named for major donors, mile after mile. Walked to the Giant Tree, the Flat Iron Tree, whose fallen oval trunk sections in places measures 7.5 feet high by 17. feet wide.
Scotia's lumber mill company town houses look well cared for. Lovely weather up the coast past Fortuna and the Ferndale turn-off, before the fog started. Through Eureka (no freeway bypass for this town) where the fog lifted, and 10 miles further descended again. The Scenic Byway took us through more magnificient redwood groves, past the Elk preserve, with warnings about how big they are and how fast they can run...35 mph. There are hundreds of REALLY BIG TREES, deep groves of tall redwoods, mile after mile. Sunlight filtered through and illuminated the trees and their understory of fern and dogwood...beautiful
A fuel and coffee stop in Klamath at the Yurok Tribe Fuel Mart Pem Mey, where discounts are only for tribe members. The young man behind the counter said folks around there think 9/11 was all a lie. Yep. Do those people vote? Crescent City seems a bit more sophisticated although the WalMart doesn't have a copy machine because people kept breaking it. Honest. Trying to find fresh salmon but the local stores don't carry it and the dock isn't open. Salmon season ends Wednesday, so we're hoping maybe in Oregon? And the Tsunami Area signs don't frighten us, but they are a little disconcerting. Cool campground on the edge of town, Village Camper Inn, private, quiet, wooded, with all the hook-ups necessary at half the price of the State Park.
Hard to imagine that we are so caught up in the mundane, after watching the History channel last night and seeing the archive of videos from 9/11. The flags at half mast all day reminded us of the horror of 9 years ago...and the heroism.
Sunday is Oregon.
SEPT. 7, 2010Tuesday.
You know how some days just don't start right? And don't get much better as the day grinds on? The gardener didn't show up. The frustration of finding that the $1,000 fix on the automatic levelers isn't working properly was only surpassed by Gail spending over an hour trying to upload to the iPod the download from Audible books, with no luck. Which resulted in a very late start and then a trip to the library to get some books on tape for the journey. (Gene maintained his cool through all this and was very supportive...until later.)
And the shakedown of the first few miles didn't go so well either. I hadn't harnessed Lucy, the hood wasn't completely latched, and the drivers in the library parking lot were making the Driver crazy. Eager to get going, he drove off without his seat belt on and had to buckle up while managing our 6 tons of metal, fiberglass, rubber and household.goods. Which drives the Passenger crazy. It doesn't help that the 'jacks down' light came on, Gene's hat slid off the shelf above, boink, and the ear piece on Gail's glasses came loose. We had just reached Highway 20 in Grass Valley.
This east to west highway across our part of Northern California is much improved from its earlier narrow twisted route, but the sight of fresh scorched earth, a cross and flowers testified to its still dangerous nature. The frustrations of the morning and the pushing of cars and trucks behind leads the Driver to go faster than he might, and the Passenger in the second seat to express her terror in bad language. But, reaching Woodruff Lane, we entered a world of little traffic, lush greenery, and harvest machinery waiting near the grain silos for ripening crops. The occasional BUMP sign doesn't do justice to this beat-up road.
Highway 70, south to north between Yuba City and Oroville is a fruit and nut orchard corridor, with truck farms off to the side. Walnut, pistachio, olive, peach, nectarine, apricot, plum and kiwi...then signs for melons, corn, tomatoes, and lots of fruit stands and a roach coach or two. Names on the properties were Italian, Mexican, Mormon (Desert Farms), and others. Mariani drying sheds numbered at least three. There was a tree nursery of several acres . And suddenly we were out of green and into golden fields of baled hay with a second crop growing. Oroville Dam loomed ahead, signs for the casino flashed by, and Red Bluff was next.
Highway 36 heads east out of Red Bluff toward Manton, our destination for the night. Drove Manton Road to the Indian Peak Vineyards on Forward Road where Donna and Fred Boots met us at their wine barn and tasting room. We were their first Harvest Hosts guests, and this was our first www.harvesthosts.com try at dry camping on private property. The Boots were most gracious and over several tastes of wine they had made, from their own and neighbors grapes, we heard their story. And bought three bottles of wine, which they insisted we didn't have to do, but after 'tasting' the equivalent of a glass or two apiece, we decided it was a good idea. These grandparents and entrepeneurs have spent the last 7 years planting growing harvesting and wine making, while living in a small trailer next to the wine barn. Sold their Cottonwood home at the peak of the market, retired from their jobs, quit commuting, and settled in to work their buns off. Very good wine, by the way.
SAVE THE EARTH...IT'S THE ONLY PLANET THAT MAKES WINE
Wednesday. What do you know, it's raining! Woke to a downpour, but soldiered on over small country roads ever climbing to Shingletown (Hwy 44), past the Wild Horse Sanctuary, and Mt. Lassen National Park. Not a local rain this, reports from all over northern Northern California were the same. So there goes our plan to drive slowly and hike through Lassen. I mean it's pouring. As the ranger said, the mountain makes its own weather. Ah well, time to catch up from the rigors of packing and leaving, take the day off and read Sunday's paper. Settled down in an almost empty campground, levelers working OK now, and then discovered we were almost out of propane....which fuels the stove, the furnace, the hot water heater, the refrigerator. Bolted for the nearby store....no propane. Back to Shingletown, down the highway about 15 miles, and returned, mission accomplished. Still pouring. Good DVD, good wine, nice supper, warm and cozy.
Thursday. The plan is to drive, hike, picnic our way through this lovely park from the NW corner to the SW corner, and head for the coastal redwoods. Our ancient Interagency Senior Pass leaves us feeling a bit guilty for free admittance to all national parks and half price dry camping to boot, but then, we pay taxes, don't we?
Thursday con't. No rain! A late start on the drive/hike through Lassen, and on the first part of the drive we heard a mysterious thumping and bumping from underneath the kitchen. Although the Driver spread a blanket and crawled under Betsy by the side of the road, no reason for mysterious sound could be found. So on to Bumpass Hell overlook. Well done signs explained Mt. Tehama, a huge volcano, imploded eons ago, leaving a ring of mountain peaks surrounding the caldera in which we stood....Mt. Conrad, Brokeoff Mountain, etc. It looked daunting from where we stood, but the guide book said the 1.5 mile hike (3 mi. RT) was moderate, so off we went over rocky narrow trails on the edge of the caldera with views of forests below and beyond, peaks and valleys in the far distance. A small gain in elevation over the rocky scramble, then a sharp drop down into the steaming pools of sulfurous (read, stinky) and noisy fumeroles and boiling mud pots. The boardwalk kept us from straying into dangerous ground. Poor Kendall VanHook Bumpass lost his dream of turning this area into a tourist attraction in the mid-19th c, along with the leg that fell through the crust into the boiling liquid below. Plenty of people on the trail, although I thought it was cold, in the mid 50's. And surprisingly, lupine still in bloom on the sunny slopes. Huffed and puffed our way back out and felt good about our 1.5 hour excursion until we met a group who had already climbed Mt. Lassen and were going to amble to Bumpass Hell. Oh, well, we're old.
Mineral is the tiny town at the SW entrance to Mt. Lassen Volcanic NP, and we spent our third night of dry camping nearby at Battle Creek NFS campground. The Driver prefers hookups but is clever enough to bring a 'water thief' so we can put water directly into Betsy via our hose and this gadget, which keeps coming off the faucet-with-no-threads and dowsing the 'thief'. Another frosty night makes me glad to be in the woods in a fiberglass box with a furnace and not in a tent or a dreary freeway motel. For entertainment there are always other campers....the elderly couple (by that I mean even older than we are) riding around the campground loop on their fold-up bikes, the campground host(ess) dressed for work leaving at 8 a.m., men with long grey beards and cammies (the sign did say Hunters Welcome on a dreary rv park nearby), the squirrels carrying bright green moss for their winter nests, bird calls, tall trees.
Friday Sept. 10 In under an hour, we dropped 4000 feet in elevation and rose 25 degrees in temperature as Highway 36 took us into Red Bluff for emptying and filling. It's a very mild 75-80 degrees in this normally blistering part of the upper Sacramento Valley. The 'downtown' is somewhat threadbare; all the new shops are on the outskirts in the shopping centers with the big box stores you would expect, plus eateries and entertainment. Crossing both I 5 and the wide and beautiful Sacramento River, we chose Hiway 36 to the coast. The scenery along this route is why California is called green and golden, with dry grass hills, pastures and green trees and bushes. Add pines, manzanita, oaks, berry bushes and cottonwoods and you can see where the water flows. In the middle of nowhere is the R Ranch, with a store, an R Ranch RV lot, the R Wild Horse Ranch, and a few other enterprises. Evidence of a long ago forest fire travels alongside for miles and miles. Then the appearance of Digger Pines tells us we are at about 1,500 to 2,000 feet elevation as we climb and twist our way up the Coast Range. Higher elevations bring taller trees; signs point to Hayfork and Rat Trap Gap, both of which intrigue but don't take us off course. Roads have numbers, not names. The Traveling Wilburys and Bonnie Raitt provide background music. At Mad River there are increasing signs of habitation..farms, church, fire department, grazing horses, abandoned logging sites, trailer park and an air strip with a single orange wind sock. Past Dinsmore miles of narrow, bumpy, winding road with no center line, steep drops on the Passenger side, and at one blind curve, a semi coming the other way in the deep and towering forest. Time for this more than 100 mile trek to end! Brake check areas make me nervous especially when followed by a 10% grade sign and the heart-stopping twisting drop and 10 mph curves. After hours of this, Hwy 36 has begun to lose its charm. But the road levels a bit, shoulders and a center line reappear. Mellowed out with Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto we finally drop down at Hydesville into a lush agricultural valley, just before Hwy. 101, over the Eel River, past a thriving lumber mill at Scotia, on our way to Weott and the Humboldt Redwood State Park. I won't bore you with the details of landing for the night, but just know we went 14 miles out of our way searching for the campground, and once there discovered we had left the windshield privacy cover at last night's camp. And the fees for camping at CA state parks are now $45.00. Oh well. No more guilt feelings about not paying enough.
Saturday Sept. 11 The rumble strip on Hwy 101 N took our front right hub cap and although the Driver was good enough to turn around (twice) and we found two hubcaps, neither was ours. Now we have two left. Before the bad start to the day, we walked through magnificient Coast Redwoods, grove after grove named for major donors, mile after mile. Walked to the Giant Tree, the Flat Iron Tree, whose fallen oval trunk sections in places measures 7.5 feet high by 17. feet wide.
Scotia's lumber mill company town houses look well cared for. Lovely weather up the coast past Fortuna and the Ferndale turn-off, before the fog started. Through Eureka (no freeway bypass for this town) where the fog lifted, and 10 miles further descended again. The Scenic Byway took us through more magnificient redwood groves, past the Elk preserve, with warnings about how big they are and how fast they can run...35 mph. There are hundreds of REALLY BIG TREES, deep groves of tall redwoods, mile after mile. Sunlight filtered through and illuminated the trees and their understory of fern and dogwood...beautiful
A fuel and coffee stop in Klamath at the Yurok Tribe Fuel Mart Pem Mey, where discounts are only for tribe members. The young man behind the counter said folks around there think 9/11 was all a lie. Yep. Do those people vote? Crescent City seems a bit more sophisticated although the WalMart doesn't have a copy machine because people kept breaking it. Honest. Trying to find fresh salmon but the local stores don't carry it and the dock isn't open. Salmon season ends Wednesday, so we're hoping maybe in Oregon? And the Tsunami Area signs don't frighten us, but they are a little disconcerting. Cool campground on the edge of town, Village Camper Inn, private, quiet, wooded, with all the hook-ups necessary at half the price of the State Park.
Hard to imagine that we are so caught up in the mundane, after watching the History channel last night and seeing the archive of videos from 9/11. The flags at half mast all day reminded us of the horror of 9 years ago...and the heroism.
Sunday is Oregon.
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