Stephanie is one of those persons who can fit a lot of words onto a standard size postcard -- usually by writing sideways, around corners, and even upside down if she can find some extra space. Most of these go to family and friends. But some of them -- those which document our RV adventures -- find their way onto this portion of our website.
Postcard: Spiral Highways
June 2, 2004
We've spent 4 lazy days at Granite Lake, just "puttering". We've washed the tow car, the rig and the dog. We've walked and biked the greenbelt trail that stretches for miles along the riverfront, and passes right by our front door. Tom has rigged his ham radio so that we can send and receive "packets", and I'm getting used to the different beeping noises that instrument can make. Who knows? I may eventually even be able to tell what they mean. Tom's antenna is composed of a wire sided "strap" about an inch wide, with rectangular holes cut in it. This he attaches to our awning. The wire strap is fairly light and doesn't like to hang in a straight line, and would swing in any sort of breeze, so, he has attached our hatchet to it as a weight. (And here I thought a hatchet was only for chopping wood for an occasional campfire!) At the bottom of all of this, at the end of yet another piece of cable, is the small radio. (See picture)
This homegrown antenna was the focus of attention for our neighbors here. They watched Tom set it up, they saw him use it, but they were unable to figure out just what was its function. As we were about to leave, Tom went over to say goodby. Speaking in rather hesitant tones, as if embarrassed that he couldn't figure it out, the man asked, "I'm so glad you came over. I have to ask you one question. Just what does that strap contraption do?"
We encountered an old friend on this trip, one we thought we'd never see again. Not a person, but a highway, a spiral highway. The story is as follows: When we lived in Boise, Idaho during the 1970s, both our children swam for the local YMCA, necessitating extensive travel throughout the Intermountain west as they attended various meets. Moscow, ID, in the northern section of the state, hosted one especially important meet every year, and we got quite accustomed to the drive between home and the Moscow swimming pool -- including that incredibly winding 2 lane section known as the Lewiston Grade. Sometime in the last few years, this road has been supplanted by a steeper, but shorter, 4 lane route. No longer will your car be stuck behind an 18 wheeler all the way up, or down, the Lewiston Hill. But the old road still has a great deal of charm and has been well maintained.
As we came south toward Clarkston and Granite Lake on this trip, I noticed a small sign at the top of the Grade. It read "Spiral Highway". Our old road of long ago! Not a route for a big rig, but we could hardly wait to relive old times and take the jeep out exploring.
When you get to the bottom of the Lewiston Grade, avoid travel through downtown Lewiston and Clarkston. Follow the signs for Highway 12 west, drive the picturesquely named "Down River Road". This route takes you along the north side of the Snake, across the Red Wolf Crossing Bridge at the western edge of Clarkston. If you're headed west, you have avoided some narrow town roads. If you're headed for Granite Lake, you only need backtrack a bit more than a mile along a wide frontage road. As we drove along the down River road, I saw the downhill end of the Spiral Highway -- a good starting point for that trip.
We wouldn't just travel this spiral highway however. The countryside here is all ups and downs -- up into the Blue Mountains, down to the Snake River. Up onto the plateau of the Palouse country, down to the banks of the Potlatch River. Up over Lolo Pass, down to the Locsa, Selway and Clearwater rivers. The choices go on and on. Our travels would lead us into parts of three states -- Idaho, Oregon and Washington.
Highway 129 wends its way south of Clarkston, first following the banks of the Snake River, then climbing up into the Blue Mountains. Follow this road long enough and you will eventually cross the border into Oregon. Keep going, through the towns of Enterprise and Joseph, and you can turn west, eventually arriving in Baker. That route is not easy, but still OK for an RV. If you want a bit more adventure, take the toad, and head out of Joseph down to the Snake River at Oxbow or Brownlee dams. Tom and I have yet to try this route, and have been advised by our son that portions are extremely steep. Still, at some future date, I'm sure we'll give it a shot.
Our first circle trip was a repeat of a trip we took some years back. 25 miles south of Clarkston, and just as the road reaches the first pines of the Blue Mountains, is the tiny town of Anatone. Several years ago, we were tempted by the hamburgers at the Blue Mountain Cafe. I can report they are still just as delicious as they were then, the birding is just as good around the feeders set outside the cafe, and that Anatone has grown not at all. A sign posted just outside the town limits reads: Welcome to Anatone. Home of 45 people, 27 cats, 22 dogs and 21 horses.
We remembered that there was another road back to Clarkston, one that wandered through fields of wheat and then plunged off a cliff down to the Snake. From there we could pick up the Snake Riiver access road back to Granite Lake. Tom asked directions from one of the locals having lunch at the cafe. That man recommended that we continue on about 20 miles to the Grande Ronde River, but when pressed, admitted that no road there that would return us to the Snake and Clarkston. He'd only mentioned it because he wanted to share one of his favorite areas with us. .
About 2 miles south of Anatone, we found, and remembered, the Montgomery Ridge road. Beginning as a paved, two lane road, and soon becoming a wide gravel one, it leads east across cultivated fields toward the far horizon. You can see a ridge of low lying mountains to the east and realize that they are in Idaho -- that between you and those hills is a 2,700 foot plunge down to the mighty Snake River. For some miles, the road continues across this plateau, and then, with little warning (only a battered silver sign reading Snake River, and an arrow painted on a piece of wood to point the way), it plummets down, a 10% grade winding across cattle pastures in a neverending descent. Our Garmin lady friend was most disturbed with this route, wanting us to get back on the regular road and return to Granite Lake in a normal manner -- i.e., the way we'd come. "In 200 feet turn right", she warned us, oblivious of the fact there was no place, in 200 feet or any other distance, to turn in any direction. Then she repeated herself adding, "then turn right" -- her way of telling us to make a U-turn when she knows we don't want to hear those words. At one point she found what looked like a very steep and muddy track, straight back up the hill, and told us to turn left upon it. But we knew better, we knew that, if we kept going, in just a few miles we would be back on the road that led along the river.
Arriving back at the Snake, we frustrated Ms. Garmin once again by turning in the opposite direction from Clarkston, and following the Snake south about 20 miles to its confluence with the Grand Ronde River. As we drove along, we were surprised to see several smaller rigs on the opposite shore of the Grand Ronde. There was only a miniscule road on that bank, barely more than a path, and we wondered how those rigs could have gotten to the other side. At the hamlet of Rogersburg, the Snake wanders eastward, and a jet boat is needed to continue the trip to Hells Canyon Dam. Here, where the the Grande Ronde river flows into the Snake the road that had been on the banks of the Snake continues upstream along the Grand Ronde. In only a couple of miles, we found a bridge -- and a road accessing the opposite shore of the river. Question answered -- that's how the campers crossed the river!.
We were also looking forward to driving the original, the one-and-only, Spiral Highway -- the old road of our memories. The road is well signed and only lightly used by passenger cars. But it's a real favorite with bicyclers and motorcycles. Built in 1917 to replace the steeper wagon trails, it provided the cars of that era a road on which they could do 20 -30 mph -- good for that time. It's 10 miles long, and has an elevation change of 2,000 feet. The road surface appears to have been recently repaved and striped, but its curves promise a slow, beautiful drive, unless you happen to be on a motorcycle. We watched as two motorcyclists took off down the hill, racing around its well banked corners. At the same time, another set of "bikers" came off the main road, took one look at the Spiral Highway, and took off down it. Perhaps they were going in circles, down the Spiral Highway, up Highway 95 with the bulk of the traffic, and down the Spiral again. It's always a challenge to get a picture that captures this sort of "downhill" scene, but we did give it a try...
Once at the top of the grade, we continued north to Genessee, and followed the Genessee-Juliaetta road through the fields of the Palouse. A great place to stop and let the dog run, although we were a bit concerned we might lose her. The wheat was high enough that the only way to trace her progress was by watching the waving grasses. But she couldn't see either; she had to make a series of jumps as she went along in typical Britany style -- obviously in pursuit of whatever game bird might be lurking under that lush cover. I'd see waving grass, then a Brittany head as she leaped up, looked around, and continued her run. Soon she decided this was work for a younger (she just turned 11) dog, and came back to sniff along the roadside where the grasses were shorter.
The spiral road down to the Potlatch river and the small towns of Juliaetta and Kendrick is short, graveled, and extremely steep near the bottom, with about a 15% grade -- but no trouble for the jeep. These two towns are old by Idaho standards, Kendrick being established in 1890, and have several still occupied buildings with historical signs prominently posted in their front yards. While Idaho is young in comparison with eastern states, it is very proud of its heritage, and such signs can be found all over the state. You can learn a lot about Idaho just by stopping along your way and reading these interesting tidbits of Idaho history.
Tomorrow we'll leave Granite Lake and begin our homeward odyssey. In a short three weeks, we'll be off to Kelowna, to the RV Lifestyle Conference. Two weeks afterwards, we'll be in Moscow at Life On Wheels. There's hardly time to go home between conferences, so we have reservations in McCall, ID for part of that time. For now we plan to store our rig somewhere east of the Cascades, perhaps in the Wenatchee area, and go home in the jeep. With our continuing plans for a move to the Bend, OR area, it's just possible our coach has made its last trip down the Seattle portion of the I-5 corridor...
Postcard: Wireless ??
May 28, 2004
It's been quite some time since we left the quiet of our little corner of the world for more than just a day, and those trips had centered around the necessary "off-island" shopping that Islanders must do from time to time. So, we were looking forward to a real trip, not too far in terms of miles, but a complete break from our daily routine.
Remember the memory game we played as children, "I'm going on a trip, and in my suitcase I shall put...". Everyone would name one item, and each child had to remember what each had said before he could add an item of his own. In our case, substitute "car" for "suitcase", and the following lists what we had with us.
One Brittany spaniel, two sets of golf clubs, one soft sided cooler, fairly bursting at the seams, one large paper bag holding items that would not fit in the cooler, two small suitcases, two computers in computer cases, one Garmin GPS 2660, one dual band "ham" radio, one cell phone, one eTrex Vista hand-held GPS, and about 25 miles of wire. For someone who touts the benefits of wireless, Tom travels with, and needs, a lot of wire. There was a wire attached to the ham radio, plugging it into one of the DC power outlets. There was another wire connecting the same ham radio to the hand-held GPS. Another wire attached the CB radio to the dash. To the already existing two antennas on this jeep, one for the CB radio and the usual one for the car radio, Tom had added a third antenna on the top of the car, stretched a wire from it through the back door opening that also plugged into the top of the ham radio so that he could send and receive something called a "packet" as we drove along. I was quite in the dark as to what a "packet" was, even through he had carefully explained that "a packet is data". Ah! That made everything crystal clear. All I know is that when he found he had been able to "send" his "packet", it enabled others to know precisely where we were. And that is good, I guess?
We were headed to Granite Lake RV Resort in Clarkston, WA. Clarkston is in the southeastern corner of our state, while the San Juans are in the far northwest. We needed to cut across the state on a diagonal -- go "kitty corner". We had several choices. We could drive down Interstate 5 to its intersection with Interstate 90, but that meant driving through the Seattle area -- something we avoid whenever possible. We could stay north and cross the mountains on highway 20, through Washington's "Little Switzerland", the North Cascades highway. But that route was a bit out of the way. We settled on the intermediate route, highway 2 east to Leavenworth and Wenatchee, south and eastward on highway 26, through the farm belt of our state, through towns like Moses Lake, Othello and Colfax and then south on 195 to Lewiston, Idaho and its sister community, Clarkston, Washington.
The ferry Sealth pulled into the Friday Harbor ferry landing right on time, but we had a short wait while, for reasons best known to the ferry personnel and the Coast Guard, the crew performed a mandatory life boat drill. Crew personnel donned life vests, two of them got into a life boat and were lowered to the water. There they disconnected the lines that secured the boat to the ferry, started the motor, turned it off, reattached the lines and were pulled back up onto the deck. It took some time, but at least was done while the ferry was in dock. I can remember a time when these drills were performed during the crossing. In open water they inevitably took even longer, and many a trip started off an hour or so late.
We spent the evening at Confluence State park in Wenatchee. Camping season has started; no longer can you just drive in, find a site and pay at the kiosk. Now you register at the park office, and can only stay for one night at a time, unless you have a reservation. They were full for the Memorial Day weekend, but had plenty of room this Wednesday evening.
Early the next morning we were off toward Clarkston. We followed the Columbia south, past the rocks that still jut from the water giving the Rock Island dam its name, watching the placid water slowly headed for the ocean. The Columbia has so many dams on its waters, that little remains of what was once a raging river. Just before the town of Quincy, we asked our friend, the lady in the Garmin 2660, to find us a restaurant close by. Within 4 miles, just where our route turned and headed south, there was a McDonalds. A quick bite being what we occasionally opt for on travel mornings such as this, it was perfect. Thank you, our Garmin friend.
As we drove along, we amused ourselves reading the signs posted along the road, each proclaiming what was planted in the field behind it. Potatoes, "oat hay" (what is that?), alfalfa, wheat, winter wheat, and sweet corn were some of the produce planted here. I recognized some, especially the "grapes" and "cherries". The cherries are almost ripe, and we look forward to finding a roadside stand on our return trip.
We changed drivers on the short stint along Interstate 90 to a turn south at Moses Lake. Tom's "packet" was not behaving properly, and he brought the radio in to see if he could diagnose the problem while I took the wheel -- and immediately ran into road construction. Of the 15 miles of I-90 that lay before me, 12 were under construction, and I was glad to head south again.
South on highway 17 past the entrance to the Potholes area of Washington. These natural holes, formed by the ice age glaciers, have created dozens of small lakes, and are a great draw for fishermen and hunters. Past Sage Hills Golf and RV resort, an intriguing park on a great looking course, inviting us to stop and play -- which we'll do another day. East on highway 26, headed through the sage covered hills, small farms and ranches tucked into the hills, with cows, horses and llamas (!) out in the fields. Into the green hills of the Palouse country of eastern Washington, where the greens of the grasses contrast beautifully with the dark rick soil of the counter-tilled and as yet unplanted fields. I noted, both along the side roads and in some farmyards, implements of completely unknown -- to me -- usage. Tractor looking vehicles with wheels and rakes jutting out from their sides. 6 identical red boxy vehicles, emblazoned with the word Simplot, heavy bars in front just barely clearing the road surface, were rolling slowly down a frontage road, each going off to perform a task I couldn't even begin to imagine.
South on US 195 at Colfax, WA, past neat little homes nestled in the green hills. It seemed that each of these homes was in competition with the others to see which could have the most carefully cultivated lawns, the most profuse flower beds, the prettiest flowering trees. One home had gaily painted whirligigs, one on each fencepost outlining the driveway. Another home, one we have seen before, and always look to find again, has a fence, composed completely of pioneer vintage steel wheels surrounding their barn and about an acre of grass behind it. Some of these wheels are only simple hoops, others are much fancier, with curlicues and patterns in the wheel. This unusual fence is also the site of a geocache, and is described by its owner thus: "Fence of a thousand wheels, harking back to our pioneer days. Back then, nothing was ever discarded, and the farmer used these varied iron circles to construct a wondrous fence."
And on to Granite Lake RV Resort, one of our favorite parks, a beautiful spot located at the confluence of the Clearwater and Snake Rivers. The owners, Darin and Carol Laughery, have 75 level, manicured sites, many right at the river's edge, and have recently completed a clubhouse which is proving very popular with various RV groups. They also offer free wireless connections to the Internet, and have found this a great draw for RVers. Clarkston is on the border between Washington and Idaho, at the confluence of the Clearwater and Snake Rivers, and is the perfect jumping off spot for a single day, or often longer, adventures. You can drive east, following the Clearwater along Highway 12, retracing part of the Lewis and Clark trail. If you stay on this road far enough, you'll cross the picturesque Lolo Pass, and find yourself driving along the Bitterroot River south of Missoula, Montana.
You can drive south along State Highway 129 which follows the Snake for a few miles, and then turns inland, climbing up and into the Blue Mountains. Following this road will take you to the quaint artist towns of Enterprise and Joseph, Oregon. But be sure to stop in Anatone, WA en route, for one of their famous hamburgers.
North and west, you can follow the Snake as it wends its way to the Columbia and on to the Pacific. If you stay on the north side of the river, you'll make a loop trip to Steptoe Canyon, up an 8 mile gravel road winding to Uniontown. Bring your binoculars, as the birding is fabulous. Bring your bird book, too -- I'm still searching for the identity of a couple of birds we saw along the way, and wish I had remembered to bring mine along. Once in Uniontown, it's a short distance to Pullman, WA, where many folks stop for a "fix" of Cougar Gold cheese. (So called because the cougar is the Washington State mascot, and Washington State University is located in Pullman). Then its only a few miles back to the park.
Perhaps the most famous side trip from here is by jet boat up the Snake River into Hells Canyon. There are several companies which provide this service -- one leaves from a dock only a short walk from the park. Trips are typically half or full days, although overnight trips are also offered. You see parts of the countryside you'd miss from land, and learn a bit about the history of the country as well. A not to be missed expedition.
While Tom and I have taken many of these side trips, we look forward to repeating some of them on our Memorial Day holiday. I wonder where we'll go tomorrow...
Postcard: Following the Favorites Trail
April 23, 2004
After a service appointment in Junction City, it was time to head back to our Island. No straight "bee-lines" up the I-5 corridor for us though. We'll be "favorite park hopping" as we travel north. We've made this trip enough times now to have a mental list of where we want to stay in various towns in Oregon and Washington, and stories to tell about most of them.
While we were looking at townhome sites in the Bend area, we stayed at Crown Villa RV Resort. This absolutely first class resort park has wide level spaces, each with a separate parking spot for your tow car on the black top interior road. Each area where your rig is parked has been individually "designed" with pavers placed in colorful swirls, checks or boxes. The management here is selling the lots, and in the fall of either 2004 or 2005, this will become a motorhome only park. Even as the lots are sold however, most are likely to remain availble for rental. Unlike some other RV parks in Bend, Crown Villa is situated about a mile from Highway 97, and away from the noise of this often busy road. Just south of the park is a multi-acre area laced with hiking trails and areas where small "varmints" live. Missy loves it here.
Our Bend business concluded for the time, we were off to Junction City and the Guaranty service center, which was able to accomodate us on fairly short notice. Over the miles, the door on our rig had developed the propensity to come open as we drove down the road. If we locked the deadbolt, the door would not actually open, but we could tell from the noise that the bolt was all that was keeping the door closed. Time for a trip to the RV doctors.
How to get there? The short route from Bend to Junction City takes you northwest 20 miles through the town of Sisters. Sisters is built on a western theme, with wooden sidewalks and storefronts. The clothing stores feature western wear, the furniture stores display hand carved, wood tables and chairs, with antler light fixtures. Family style restaurants serve hot soup in the winter and burgers year round. Sisters is a family town, with a couple of rodeos each summer. It's not unusual to see a whole family dressed to the nines in cowboy garb, although in this town, it isn't "garb", it's their usual clothing. A yearly quilt show draws quilters from all over the Northwest, either as entrants or just to admire the handiwork of others.
On the western outskirts of Sisters, the unwary driver may be tempted to take the short route toward Eugene. Highway 242 cuts about 10 miles off the usual route, and is one of the most spectacular drives you can make -- in a passenger car! The MacKenzie Pass road wanders through a lava field before plunging down the side of a mountain, on a narrow road which gives new meaning to the word "winding". We've driven this road in our jeep, but I wouldn't attempt it in any sort of RV. The signs that state, "RVs not recommended" at either end of the road should definitely be believed. When we travel this route, we go around, over Santiam Pass, turning south on highway 126 toward Eugene.
There is another choice. You can drive a more southerly route, highway 58, the Willamette Pass. Take the cutoff road at Crescent, and join 58 about 14 miles west, saving about 10 miles. While this cutoff route appears only a thin grey line on the map, it's a paved, wide, scenic, 2 lane road with broad shoulders. We'd join I-5 just south of Eugene, and spend the evening at Deerwood RV Park, another favorite. We've known Mike Brown since his park was new, and watched him expand and add landscaping. Each site here is carefully tended, with shrubs and seasonal flowers. There's a combination flower and vegetable garden in the large grassy common area, adjacent to a tent topped picnic area. (It can rain here, they aren't called the Oregon Ducks for nothing). The Eugene weather was true to its reputation, and it rained steadily all afternoon, evening and was still going strong when we left the next morning.
Some RVing friends introduced us to the Eugene Premier RV Resort last summer, and we've found it a very convenient park to stop for an evening. I found two Christmas presents last year just by browsing in their well stocked gift shop, and I look for other gift ideas each time we stop. A morning paper is delivered to your site every morning except Sunday, and there's a continental breakfast bar for guests. If you have a service appointment at Cummins, or want to visit either the Marathon or Monaco coach facilities, this park is perfectly located. Just turn off I-5 at exit 199, and the park is on the east side of the Interstate. Cummins, Marathon and Monaco are on the west side, same exit. This trip, we spent one soggy Oregon day touring the Monaco Coach factory. Effective next November, we've sold our current coach. Before we purchase another, we're going to re-visit several of the factories we visited the first time. While we were in Yakima, we visited Western RV to see the Alpine coaches. Now we spent several hours touring the Monaco facility. Tom's written about our Alpine tour and plans another article on Monaco soon.
Next morning, we were off to Junction City and the Guaranty repair "docs". We were planning on driving north to Albany and the Blue Ox RV park after our appointment, but as we drove towards Albany, we got a call from Guaranty -- in our hurry to head out, Tom had left his computer case behind. So we turned south, and headed back to Premier. One more breakfast, one more free newspaper, go collect the computer and head north tomorrow.
Well, not exactly due north, but rather northwest. Off to the coast, to the farthest northwest corner of the state, to Fort Stevens State Park. We bypassed Portland on the west, on highway 217, and wound our way northwest through the Tillamook State Forest and over the Oregon coastal range. We crossed the summit of the range and the weather improved -- Portland was getting showers, the coast was having a beautiful day.
When we got to the park, we discovered that we could stay for only one night. This was the weekend of Astoria's annual crab festival, and all the available sites had been reserved. The park is being renovated, and many of the usual sites were unavailable -- including the popular hiker/biker park, much to the disappointment of one hardy soul, who had hiked several miles just to stay there. Later in the season, the rest of the park will re-open, but it's such a popular spot that reservations come highly recommended. I'd never heard of the crab festival, but will put it down on a list of "things I'd like to do" for future reference. Most of the sites here are heavily treed, great in summer, but today we were glad to find one where we had full sunshine, and spent a delightful evening.
Next stop on our favorites trail would be the Bayshore RV park in Tokeland, only 80 miles north of Fort Stevens. I always feel like I'm coming home when we stop here. I don't know if it's the friendliness of proprietors Fred and Susan Merk or the fact that the whole area reminds me of one where I spent many happy childhood summers, but Bayshore is special. The weather was perfect for walking the beaches with Missy, and those beaches were vacant enough that she got some off leash time to chase the seagulls. I drove through the tiny town of Tokeland, but the signs that promised fresh crab at pier 1B, were followed with an additional sign "sold out" when I got there. Ah well, we'll be able to crab at home in a couple of months. Before we left the next day, we had breakfast at the historic Tokeland Hotel. A delicious breakfast in a setting right out of the early 1900s.
We were headed home, each day getting a little further north. But why hurry ? The forecast was for warmer and sunnier weather, and we still wanted to find the acreage we had heard about when we were on Whidby Island with our friends. The perfect place to "base camp" for an exploratory trip north through the Olympic rainforest was in Hoquiam.
The Hoquiam River RV park was still under construction when we stopped last year. We remembered thinking it would be a good place to stay once it was finished. We remembered it was located near highway 101 just north of town. What we couldn't remember was its name. We looked in vain in TrailerLife and our helpful friend the Garmin 2620 couldn't locate it either. (We later learned that the park had just barely missed the TrailerLife deadline, and our English friend (the one who resides inside our Garmin) has had some trouble with RV park listings). We parked the rig in town and taking Tom's jeep, went off to see if the park was where we remembered. And within one mile, there it was. No trouble at all to go back, collect the rig and sign up for the evening. What delightful changes a year has made. There are 60 sites here, most suitable for the longest rigs. The clubhouse has been finished and furnished with a TV viewing area and comfortable chairs for watching. A complete kitchen is available for group use, with tables and chairs set out for the hungry RVer. Landscaping is well underway, with small trees planted at each site and flowers set along the rockery near the river.
Hoquiam River is perfectly located for exploratory trips along the coast of Washington. You can drive north on 101 all the way to the Port Angeles and Strait of Juan de Fuca, and then loop south on 101 along Hood Canal and back to Hoquiam. You can drive a much shorter distance, 20 miles west to the ocean. Or you can drive south around Grays Harbor and explore the southern beaches. Whichever way you want to go, you can easily get there from here.
We spent the afternoon exploring north along highway 101 looking for the acreage destined to become a new RV park. We found it within a few miles of Kalaloch. Set high above the ocean, it offers a spectacular view of the rugged pristine beach below. It's a beautiful piece of property, and I look forward to seeing what happens to it over the upcoming months.
We extended our stay at Hoquiam River (we suspect many guests here will do that) and made one more trip out to the coast -- this time to Ocean Shores. This is a popular tourist destination, but we were a bit dismayed to see how many cars were headed east as we drove west toward the ocean. Why was everyone leaving just as we were arriving? What special event had just ended that we had just missed? Then we remembered. This was one of the few days that you can dig for razor clams on the coast. The seasons here are notoriously short, lasting only a few days, with clamming only allowed until noon each day. These must be the clammers returning from the shore. When we got to the beach and saw all the holes in the sand we knew we had been right.
While Ocean Shores is a bit more crowded than I'd personally prefer, it makes a great playground. There are several streets which lead you directly to the beach. You can drive on the hardpacked sand in your car. But beware the mopeds. There were dozens of these little bikes roaring up and down the sand, each ridden by someone who seemingly had never ridden before. Their expressions ranged from "go for it, full speed ahead", to "I'm terrified". They paid little attention to our jeep as we poked along, wary that one might suddenly swerve right into us. Horseback riding is also popular. There were at least 20 riders out this day, and many horses still tethered, waiting for riders.
You cannot drive the whole length of the beach. In several places access is cut off, probably to create a more peaceful area for beach walkers. As if to advertise this beach closure, and certainly to advertise their wares, the Cutting Edge Kite Shop was flying dozens of kites of all shapes and sizes along the closure border. No person was flying the kites, their strings had been secured into the sand and they seemed to be flying themselves. Several kites were shaped like colorful doughnuts with large holes; these kites could actually hit the sand and then bounce back into the air.
Driving through the residential area of Ocean Shores, we stopped at the Interpretive Center, where several rooms showcase various aspects of Ocean Shores, its birds, its animals and its history. The helpful volunteer at the front desk recommended a viewing of the 8 minute film about the dangers of coastal waters, tsunamis, floating logs and sneaker waves. " It's well worth seeing", she told me, "the ocean can be a dangerous place". While I toured the Center, Tom walked the small boat harbor. In season, there's a passenger only ferry which runs between Westport and Ocean Shores, but it won't start again for several weeks.
Then back to Hoquiam for the evening. Tomorrow we'll travel north again, this time along the shores of Hood Canal to Port Townsend and another favorite spot, Fort Worden. Since it will be a Sunday arrival, we'll have a good chance to find one of the beach sites free. These sites have full hookups (30 amp), and a beach view to die for. Fort Worden is one of three forts fronting on the Straits, built at the turn of the century ostensibly to protect this waterway from foreign invasion. New weapons inventions rendered these forts obsolete before they were ever used. Today, you can wander through the empty gun embankments, explore empty chambers where everything from foodstuffs to ammunition was stored, and hike the surrounding hills of each. We'll enjoy one last evening barbeque, and watch the ferries ply the Straits. Tomorrow, it really will be time to head home.
Postcard: Describing a Circle
April 18, 2004
Finally, after all these weeks, we're off on another jaunt. It's not that we haven't been busy. We've listed our San Juan home, and spruced it up with a new coat of outside paint. Every morning, I've been sure that everything is carefully put away, counter tops polished, floors vacuumed and every top of every table thoroughly dusted. The house has been shown several times, but the most remarkable showing occurred on Easter Sunday.
Our house was crowded this Easter weekend. We have two children and they each have two children. Add 2 spouses, Tom and me and the grand total is 10. We'd opened the Easter baskets, and there was Easter "grass" everywhere. Candy wrappers were in full view, notwithstanding orders about how much candy should be eaten before lunchtime. The children had just finished their nth egg hunt (everyone takes turns hiding eggs for the others), and had returned to the house to determine the latest winner. They were busily counting eggs on our living room floor. Since some eggs had been hidden on the beach, everyone had removed his sandy shoes, and the front hall was lined with sneakers of various sizes. Downstairs, sleeping bags were stacked in fairly neat piles, as were clothes and toys. But when 8 people share one den, one bedroom and one bath, there is an unavoidable amount of mess.
At this precise moment, a realtor showed up at our door. We had zero advance notification. The couple spent only a short time gingerly picking their way through the mess, and then politely left. Not the best time to see a house -- although, with hindsight, a very good time to see a home.
So we were looking forward to a short, off-island, "circle" trip. We have plans to buy a new townhome at Widgi Creek, a golfing community of homes and townhomes just a few miles west of Bend, Oregon. Widgi is in the Deschutes National Forest, on the road to Mount Bachelor, where there's great skiing in the winter and hiking and fishing in summer. Our townhome hasn't been built yet, in fact, it's only a few stakes in the ground right now.
But we wanted to take a full-fledged trip, not just drive to Bend and back again. From Bend, we'd go on to Eugene, for a quick stop at the Guaranty RV service center there. Then we plan a trip up the coast back to Washington, with a stop at one of our favorite spots, the Bayshore RV Park in Tokeland. Our circle would be anything but round, but it would take us a few miles east, then south and north again. Sort of a rectangular circle.
We started our trip with an interesting side trip at North Whidbey RV park. Tom joined Rich Stockwell, an RV park consultant, Bob Charters, one of our Island neighbors, and Bob's friend Jack. Jack owns 20 acres just outside of Queets, WA, right on the ocean, and is planning to develop an RV park there. We're generally familiar with the area, and agree it would be a fabulous location for a new park. Jack has limited experience RVing, and even less in developinging RV parks. Rich has extensive expertise in both designing and building RV parks -- a perfect match. Tom was able to provide some insights from an RVers perspective. A very good way to start this project. I listened to Rich explain the basic concepts of an RV park, where to place the sites, where the best location would be for hookups, the purpose and design of a clubhouse, etc. Each item he listed put me in mind of further details, and I began to appreciate the complexity of such a project. I walked around the North Whidbey park with Bob's wife Pat, discussing such things as the importance of level sites, and the reason for codes on restroom doors. We stopped by the office and she took the time to examine the Trailer Life directory -- a sort of RVers "bible" to us, but almost a foreign language to her. It was a fascinating morning, and our intention is to follow the progress of this potentially exciting new park from its conceptual stage through design, construction and operation. Likely we'll have more to say on this project as it is transformed from idea to reality.
We spent the evening at Icicle River RV Park just outside of Leavenworth, the Bavarian-like town about 100 miles east, and 40 miles north of Seattle. The park sits right on the banks of the Icicle River, one of the tributaries of the Wenatchee River. In many of the stores in town and on the bumpers of the locals' cars, you'll note signs reading, "Bicycle the Icicle", and in summer, a lot of people do just that. But it was still early and too cool for all but the most intrepid cyclists, and most of the summer homeowners have yet to return to their homes along the river above the park. The road was relatively empty, the park likewise, and we had our choice of spots.
The next morning we drove 25 miles east to Wenatchee and the Wenatchee Confluence State park. Situated where the Wenatchee River joins the Columbia, this is another favorite stop. Any concerns we might have had about site availability, given the combination of a fairly small park -- only about 50 sites -- and Spring Break week for Washington schools, proved unfounded, and we found a long back-in site with lots of space for the dog to watch the resident marmots at play. Like many state parks, this park has level sites set well apart from each other, with large grassy areas for family fun. A short walk away is the Horan Wildlife area, with interior wetlands on one side and the Wenatchee River on the other. It's a birder's paradise with myriad wetland birds on one side of the area, river fowl on the other.
We were here to get some warranty work done on the Tom's little jeep Wrangler. We've spent many a day at Country Coach or Cummins, waiting while coach work is completed, and it's hard to remember that a car can be finished in one morning. This time it did take longer than anticipated, and we were a bit later leaving Wenatchee than we'd have liked. Our evening stop would be south on Highway 97, in Toppenish, at the Yakama Nation RV Resort. They have 125 sites suitable for the longest rigs, a teepee village, basketball court, playground, swimming pool and spa. A foot bridge walk over the Wannity Slough will take you to the Yakama Nation Cultural Center with its interesting dioramas and exhibits of Indian life in this area.
We've had an additional companion on this trip. We haven't yet learned her name, but it's obvious she comes from England. (She began her trip with us speaking American English, but Tom changed that.) She speaks to us every time we push a button, and periodically as we drive down the road. She tells us things like "in 0.7 miles turn left", or "off route, recalculating". She's contained in a Garmin StreetPilot 2620 portable car navigation system, and we're having great fun with her. Actually, she's mine, as I got her for an Easter present. (The same sort of present Tom gets when we really need, say, a toaster, and it just happens to be his birthday.) She knows a lot of roads, although her memory was a bit limited on our portion of San Juan Island, and on a new route to Widgi Creek from the Bend Parkway (over a bridge completed less than a year ago). When she gets really stumped, she'll say, "Lost satellite reception", but I know that's a bluff. Add her to the folks who now talk with Tom via his new ham radio, and our coach seems full of people.
After an unseasonably warm Easter weekend all over the Pacific Northwest, April showers have arrived. In Bend that means an on-again, off-again combination of rain, sun, snow, sun, repeated hourly. But the sun is winning, and soon the high desert climate will give us warm and warmer days, with cool nights -- just right. We're looking forward to learning more about our new area.
Next a short stop in Eugene to fix the lights while we're towing our Jeep, then we'll travel north again. Up the coast to Tokeland, and perhaps a stop to see that 20 acre parcel that our friends want to transform into an RV park. Then back to our Island -- for a time, at least.