Pacific Northwest '12, Page 5 <Previous Page | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |


September 21 – Friday – Port Angeles

We awake and feel the chilliness and dampness – looks like we’re losing our summer weather.  It can happen quickly in these parts.

We drive into town.  Nothing is open, except the Corner House Restaurant where we enjoy a good old style American breakfast with cheerful, middle aged servers armed with big warm smiles and pots of hot coffee. 

Cornerhouse Restaurant
Cornerhouse Restaurant

We leave Port Angeles and drive to the Olympic National Park to start our day of hiking, hoping for a view here and there.  We make a quick stop at the Olympic National Park’s Main Visitor’s Center, right outside Port Angeles, to check the conditions.  A camera mounted on Hurricane Ridge shows clouds, fog, and haze from the many fires in Washington’s low lands.  The Ridge looks fairly clear, so we proceed to the park.  After some miles down the road, we arrive at the park.  Once again we’re happy to be old people and use our Golden Age Pass!

We stop at the smaller Hurricane Ridge Visitor’s Center to get our bearings and then take our first hike.  We walk directly from the Visitor’s Center to the Klahhane Ridge – out and back 4.5 miles with steep elevation changes both up and down.  We didn’t bring our hiking poles, but wish we had.  The first of the hike offers some nice views, but then the trail gets ugly with steep switchbacks going down into a view-less forest.  We turn back at 2.2 miles, not wanting to waste value hiking time and putting out lots of effort with little or no pay off.

Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge
Klahhane Ridge

We get back to the Visitor’s Center, eat our peanut butter sandwiches and find another hike.

A devoted Park Rangerette was giving a talk and I’m always ready to pick up a few facts.  She told us this part of the country was the last frontier settled.  It happened in the 1880’s and mostly in Seattle.  3 or 4 guys struck out in the winter to explore this place.  They ran into trouble, but made it back in three months.

She touched on the topic of Geology and said basalt rocks are formed underground and pushed up via a volcano.  Now, two plates are pushing together, leaving the place ready for an earthquake at any minute.

Bill had enough of the Ranger talk and facts that don’t remain.  Ready to hit the trail again, Bill selects the hike to Hurricane Hill – 3.2 miles with a 700 foot elevation gain on ridges with steep drop offs.  Surprising to us, the hike is paved all the way.  With asphalt below, we don’t need our poles, so we stash them behind a bush, hoping we wouldn’t forget them on the way back.  (We didn’t.)

We love the hike and are both sure it’s the same one we brought Amy on 25 years ago – before I liked hiking.  I still remember the drama and beauty of these ridges.  As we get higher and higher, the ridge trail gets more and more narrow, sometimes a little scary.  We discuss the best strategy if we start to fall into the steep cliffs below.  Our conclusion – it’s better to go spread eagle than to roll like a log. 

Oh my, the views are grand.  The distant mountains are filled half way up with fog and clouds, leaving the top half clear with views that go on forever.  We see some deer and a couple of cooing pheasants, but no sight of marmots.  Olympic marmots live in the isolated Olympic Mountains, and nowhere else on earth.  Sad to say that some of the marmot colonies at Hurricane Ridge and other areas of the park are disappearing.  A non-native coyote is believed to be reason for the declining population.

We chatted with a cute older couple (not much older than us) on top of Hurricane Hill.  Their conversation led us to believe that they are fans of Mitt.  We bid them adieu and head down the hill.

Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill
Hurricane Hill

We drive into the clouds and mist to the All View Motel with absolutely no view at all.  We stop at the corner store for a beer.  The store turns out to be a natural, all healthy, everything, including the local beer.  This whole area is the healthiest place I know.  Even the snack shop at the Park headquarters claims they purchase their foods (where possible) from a 150-mile radius.  The sign posted says:  Know your farmer / Know your food.

Back at the room, we watch the news, shower and talk to Amy.  We eat dinner at a Thai place – Sabai Thai (903 w. 8th – Port Angeles).  I highly recommend it.  It was delicious – healthy fare in a warm, happy environment.

We drive back to the motel in a heavy, dreary mist, but are thankful for all the beauty we’re seen. 

We watch some of the movie, “All That Jazz” with Bob Fossy.  We learn that the fires in Cashmere (when we visited the museum and met our Indian Friend Fred) have gotten pretty bad.  Say a little prayer for them.  
  
September 22 – Saturday – Port Angeles / Olympic National Park

We go back to the Corner House Restaurant downtown for a hot cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal.  It is the perfect spot to be on a chilly morning.  The place is filled with locals and small town gab.

We drive down the road to Elwha in the Olympic National Park.  It’s Saturday, the day the Native Plant Society is continuing to un-do some of the mess created by the Army Corp of Engineers by returning the land and the river to its former self.  It’s a big celebration – quite a victory bringing down the old dam so that the salmon can once again swim upstream to spawn.  (Reminds me of that movie, “Salmon Fishing in Yemen.”)  This is a hopeful place.  We decide to forego the hoopla and go on our own to explore. 

In Elwha, we couldn’t find the streams where salmon were reported to be, so we drive to the trailhead at the end of Old Whiskey Bend Road.  We drive about ten miles along a narrow dirt lane with twists and turns galore.  We park at the end of the road and begin the Humes Ranch Loop, a 6-mile hike with lots of ups and downs.  The first part is through a quiet forest to a couple of old cabins.

Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop

We first see Michael’s Cabin.  Cougar Mike lived here for a while, killing cougars and working as a subcontractor for the Humes tourist business.  A doctor once lived in Michael’s Cabin.  He made a living by raising bees for honey, growing fruit trees and turning the cabin into a B&B.

Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop

Down the trail is the Humes Ranch.  Two brothers came out from New York looking for lumber-jack work. Later, they become tour guides and get involved in the growing tourist industry.  They housed adventuresome guests in their little cabin from time to time. 

Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop

The isolated little homesteads gave me an insight into the psyche of the first settlers.  They had to be rugged individuals and able to survive -- adapting to new businesses as the area changed into a tourist destination. 

From the cabins, the trail leads us to a beautiful lake.  From the lake, we drag our asses up a relentless series of switchbacks connecting to a trail in the woods.  We do not see anyone except a very friendly deer walking right up to us to check us out.  He (or she) appeared to be very sweet and loved people.  No matter how sweet, I don’t engage with a wild animal, so I encouraged it to move aside. 

Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop
Humes Ranch Loop

Once back on the main forest trail, we run into a couple of groups heading to the homesteads.  I’m glad we missed the crowds and were able to explore the cabins on our own.  I was thinking that the parking lot was just around the next corner.  I got very tired of the same old forest and the same old next corner.  Finally I dashed down the trail to free myself of the same old / same old trail going on and on.  I realize that my problem was with expectations – I expected only half a mile to the car, when in fact, it turned out to be 2 miles.  By the time we finally get to the car, I am tired, hungry and grumpy and not able to face another peanut butter sandwich for lunch.  Bill approaches me cautiously and says if I can find a place in the park to eat, we’d go.  Thank heavens for GPS!  The closest eating destination is Granny’s House, 4.7 miles down the road (on 101). 

Granny’s was a hopping place.  There were only two seats left when we arrived.  Granny’s, a little old house filled with bric-a-brac, proudly displayed the biggest collection of salt and pepper shakers I’d never seen.  I study all the crap in Granny’s while I try to wait patiently for my burger and fries and milkshake.  Finally, it comes.  I gobble it down and am ready for another hike.  Thank you Granny’s.

Granny's Cafe
Granny's Cafe
Granny's Cafe
Granny's Cafe

We drive along the southern edge of Lake Crescent – don’t know if it is manmade – or God made – but it so beautiful and so calming.

We turn south and drive to Sol Duc Ranger Station – again, cheers to our Golden Age Pass.  We stop at the Salmon Cascades to look for salmon.  Some folks gazing into the river claim to see a bunch.  I think it is only the rocks and shadows – to me, only smoke and mirrors.

Salmon Cascades
Salmon Cascades
Salmon Cascades
Salmon Cascades

We are told that it’s too early for salmon season.  Also, with very little rain this year, not to expect a lot of salmon.  The rain is needed to help them along the upstream sections. 

We check out the Old Sol Duc Hot Springs Resort.  I am crazy about the old lodge with cabins scattered about and lots of folks soaking out back in the hot springs.  I give the spot 5 stars for the nice vibes and the cheap beer.  What could be better?

We continue down the road and then hike to the Sol Duc Falls – pretty spectacular place.  I want to hike on, but Bill wants to get back.  The trail was only .8 in and .8 out without a lot of elevation charge.  It is late Saturday afternoon.  Lots of folks are out enjoying the trail as well.  One guy was carrying his dog – that’s how we walk Molly.

Old Sol Duc Hot Springs Resort
Old Sol Duc Hot Springs Resort
Sol Duc Falls
Sol Duc Falls
Sol Duc Falls
Sol Duc Falls
Sol Duc Falls
Sol Duc Falls
Sol Duc Falls
Sol Duc Falls
Sol Duc Falls
Sol Duc Falls

We made one last stop at Sol Duc for a cheap beer.  We arrive at our motel in time for the news.  We relax and shower and go to SOHO Asian Bistro in town.  Great food in a cool old building that was once an old saloon and brothel.  Our waitress is a character.  She drove to this area 14 years ago because her then 11 year old daughter liked Orca whales and I suppose she was looking for a place to get away from her ex.  She is positive, naïve, and a loveable dreamer.

Did my emails and went to bed.

NOTE:  They buried our friend Rich today in St. Louis.

September 23 – Sunday –Olympic National Park (Port Angeles All View Motel to Kalalock Lodge)

We wake up early, pack and head to the Corner House Restaurant for our regular oatmeal fix – going to miss this place.

The drive to Ozette is gorgeous.  Our GPS takes us west from Port Angeles on 101, passed Crescent Lake.  This is “Oh Wow” country, especially in the morning sun.  At Sappho, we go north on 113, then a turn on 112 takes us to Ozette Lake. 

We stop at an organic, self-service jam / jelly stand.  While we select jars of jam to take back to our family and friends, a rather unpleasant middle aged woman approaches us with her barking dog.  The dog turned out to be friendly, the woman was not.  It didn’t bother us because her berry producing garden looks so healthy.  She alone picks and makes all the jams and jellies.  We complete the transaction – a big sale for her (maybe that will make her day – and make her happy). 

Self Service Jam
Self Service Jam
Self Service Jam
Self Service Jam
Self Service Jam
Self Service Jam
Self Service Jam
Self Service Jam

We drive to the northern tip of Ozette Lake.  We find the parking lot, then the bathroom and, after some time, the Ozette Triangle trailhead. The 9-mile hike is laid out in a triangle:

  • 3 miles to the Pacific Ocean, ending at Cape Alava;
  • 3 miles south along the beach strewn with heavy duty driftwood to Sand Point; and
  • 3 miles through the swamps back to the car.

One side of the trail is rugged coastline, while two sides are mostly suspended wooden walk ways crossing forests and ferns and bogs.  The suspended, wooden planks add spring to your step and the hollow sound between the plank and bogs creates its own rhythm and a beat to carry you on.

Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle

The 3 miles along the Pacific coastline is very dramatic with driftwood and piles of downed trees.  There are also lava beds and rocks and pebbles and tide pools and amazing structures jutting up from the ocean floor.  One of the rock outcroppings is called “Wedding Rock.”  It is covered with petroglyphs left by the Mokoho Indians some 500 years ago.  We scurry around the rocks discovering symbols of fertility and other symbols of food sources.  A drawing made at a later date shows a man shooting an animal with a rifle.  I’m a real sucker for petroglyphs and could have spent hours climbing around “Wedding Rock,” but Bill was ready to move on so we eat our peanut butter sandwiches and head on down the trail.

Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle
Ozette Triangle

The 3-mile beach section of the trail is slow going – through deep sand and over driftwood piled high.  The slippery mossy surfaces also put a crimp in our hiking style.  Sand Point (the end of our beach hike) looms in the distance.  I complain that it’s too far to go – but Bill insists that’s just the way it is.  I suck it up and finally we make to Sand Point only to find that we had gone too far and must retrace our steps to find the cut off for our last 3 miles back to the car.  I give Bill my camera (so I won’t be tempted to stop to take photos and slow us down).  I also plug in my headphones and listen to “Graceland” to give me added energy.  We fly across the planked path, passing everyone in sight.  We do the last 3-mile leg in an hour.  After all this hiking, we’ve become a couple of tough old birds.  It was one great hike – very exhilarating.

Back in the car, we almost have a head on collision with a couple of deer grazing along the roadside – a very close call.  Our heart rates eventually settle down.  We must retrace our route to get to 101 south and then take the fork to the beach and our Kalaloch Lodge in the Western Olympic National Park.

We arrive at 5 pm – BEER TIME – Very well deserved today.  After happy hour, we go to the room to unpack and shower.  It’s a large room -- not much soul (probably built in the 70’s, need I say more?).  I settle in to write in my journal, but the trampers in the room upstairs, directly overhead, annoy me.  For over 30 minutes, they stomp from one end of the room to the other.  What the hell were they doing?  Finally, I have to get out of there before I do something very passive aggressive. 

Bill and I take a walk along the beach back to the old lodge for dinner.  I’m glad the trampers chased me out of the room because I get to see the most beautiful sunset ever.  Everyone was in awe.  The sun is the biggest, redest, glowiest ball slowing descending into the ocean.  We share the magic and our excitement with our fellow travelers.  One guy comments that if he ever married again, it would be right here!  My pictures are grand – check them out.

Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset

We order salmon burgers and salad.  I was able to say “No” to fries.  We walk back in the dark with our Petzls to light the way.  We are sad the vacation is almost over.  Bill planned a great trip and somebody added the perfect weather.  I dread going back to the room to listen to the trampers up above – but the activity subsided and we enjoy a quiet evening.

September 24 – Monday – Rainforest (Kalalock Lodge)

We make coffee in the room and then walk to the lodge for breakfast – beautiful morning, beautiful coastline.

Kalaloch Lodge
Kalaloch Lodge
Kalaloch Lodge
Kalaloch Lodge

We are seated around 8.  It takes another 45 minutes to get our eggs.  We would still be waiting if a lady at our neighboring table hadn't felt compassion for us and asked someone to check on our order.   This is not a good way to start the day.  Our waitress was of Indian heritage and maybe not too keen on white folks – or maybe just forgot to turn in our order.  The breakfast was good, but not enough to remove our grumpiness.

We drive about 40 miles to the Hoh Rainforest.  As soon as we leave the boundaries of the national park, the land turns really crappy.  De-forestation isn’t a pretty sight.  Thank you Teddy Roosevelt (and US government) for protecting some of our beautiful country.

We make our first stop at the Visitor’s Center in the Hoh Rainforest.  The Ranger didn’t think our chances of seeing any elk (Roosevelt Elk) were very good … but hope springs eternal as we lace up our boots and head off for the mini hikes adjacent to the Visitor’s Center.  The Mosses Trail is only a mile long hike, but leads use to a truly enchanted forest with scenes right out of a book – all sorts of gnarly, twisty, mossy trees anchored in beds of thick ferns.  The Spruce Trail is the next mini hike, clocking in at about 1.5 miles.  It’s like the Mosses Trail, only with a smattering of Spruce trees tossed in. 

Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Kalaloch Lodge Sunset
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest

Back at the parking lot, we eat our peanut butter sandwich to fuel up for the big rainforest hike along the Hoh River.  I have a freak accident lacing up my hiking boots and gouge my hand on a hook designed to hold my boot straps.  It took a while for the blood to clot – bummer.

The Hoh River Trail was just so-so.  We’re jaded from our backlog of magnificent hikes.  Along the hike, we see a few people stopped in the middle of the trail.  They spot a couple of elk grazing in the woods.  I could just barely see them and only when their magnificent racks were in motion.  Doesn’t matter – an elk spotting is an elk spotting – Mission Accomplished!  We hike a couple more miles into the forest then out along the Hoh River – beautiful day – especially when the sun broke through the clouds.  A little farther down the trail, we decide we had enough rainforest scenery for one day, so we turn back and head to the parking lot.

Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest
Ho Rain Forest

Down the road, we stop at a store with a big “Summer Blow Out” sign – that always gets my attention.  It wasn’t a big sale at all, but we did buy some t-shirts for Daan and Stijn and a t-shirt for Bill so he won’t have to wash again until we get home.

Our last stop of the day was at Ruby Beach – just about ten miles north of the lodge.  Heavy fog moved in, making the dramatic rock structures along the beach even more dramatic.  We’re not use to such beaches littered with once massive trees that are now driftwood.  Hiking is a big effort.  We struggle as we navigate over twisty obstacles and try to get our bearings on large pebbles scattered about.  I take lots of photos of the cool, eerie scenes.

Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach
Ruby Beach

We arrive at the lodge about 4.  We buy gas at $4.29 a gallon (ouch) and buy beer (at any price).  We return to the room to clean up and recover.  The trampers upstairs have gone – that’s good. 

Kalaloch Lodge
Kalaloch Lodge
Kalaloch Lodge
Kalaloch Lodge

NOTE:  Overall, we are not pleased with this pricey lodge.  It’s in a beautiful setting, right on the ocean – but it’s difficult to see the views.  Service is crappy – case in point -- breakfast.  The lobby in the lodge consists of two leather chairs in the gift shop right next to the cash register.  No relaxing in the lobby when customers are combing through racks of t-shirts all around you.   The original lobby must have been grand – but the owners decided a gift shop is better.  There is no wifi, no tv, no cell phone service – makes for an isolated experience.  Isolation is nice in remote cabins, but in this 1970’s style room, these modern-day conveniences are sorely lacking.  I shouldn’t complain – we’ve had one heck of a trip – just don’t stay at this lodge.

We walked to the dining room in the cold, blustery evening.  They could not get us in for dinner right away (although half the tables were empty – go figure).  We didn’t want to pay 8 bucks for a glass of wine while we wait for a table, so we go to the Grab and Go store next door and buy some OK wine in mini bottles.  We take the wine back to the gift shop / lobby in the lodge and sipped our wine from plastic glasses seated in the leather chairs next to the cash register.  We got to know the cashier quite well – nice person.

We are finally called for dinner and seated by the window – a nice touch.  The friendly, attentive waitress brought us a big, lovely pasta dish.

 We head south tomorrow for Gretchen’s cabin in Oregon – just in time.  The weather is looking “iffy.”

September 25 – Tuesday – Gretchen’s House in the Oregon Mountains

We pack and check out – good-bye Kalaloch Lodge.  By 7:30 we are on way to a really lovely lodge (Quinault) in the Olympic National Park placed perfectly on Lake Quinault.  This was the lodge we were hoping for in the Olympic National Park.  It has a magnificent old lobby with a huge fireplace (not the 2 chairs in the gift shop).  It is dripping with 1920’s solid elegance.  We enjoy a lovely breakfast with views of the lake.  The fog was still hanging in the trees.  I didn’t take a picture because it’s difficult to document mood stuff – but the memory will linger in my brain – or just to make sure, here’s an image borrowed from the internet.

Quinault Lodge
Quinault Lodge

After that perfect breakfast at that perfect lodge, we head out of the Olympic National Park and down the road looking for cell phone service.  We need to check in with Gretchen and cancel reservations we had made for our last night on the road.
Fumbling with the MP3 player / radio speakers and tuner connection to try to listen to a book, we missed our turn off.  We finally get squared away and then face lots of traffic on the 2 lane I-5.  Great big annoying trucks fill up the slow lane and make everyone crazy. 

I want to get a look at Portland’s downtown so I find a recommendation for a cheap lunch.  GPS takes us to a grungy part of town laden with sex shops and homeless souls and tattoo shops. We find a parking space and walk a few blocks to the Bijous Café.  It’s the perfect yuppie (term dates me) place with the tastiest of turkey sandwiches topped with a blue cheese spread.  On the way back to the car, we walk by a smattering of businesses that spruce up the edges of the tenderloin district.  We also pas by Dan and Louis’s Oyster Bar (opened in 1907).  We ate there in 1973 and still rave about their oysters.  Strange – this is the only place we know in Portland and randomly walk right by it.  I’ll be darned!

We hit the road again with our fellow truckers and RV drivers – both equally scary.  The scenery started to improve after Eugene, Oregon with more hills, greener tress and considerable less schlock.
  
We make a pit stop in Roseburg to pick up some beer and wine.  We drive into the old town section to look for a neck scarf for Katy – no luck, but I like ducking in and out of the old buildings that once were the heart of town (Jackson Street).  Occupying the old buildings are some cool eateries and small business mostly dedicated to the crafty-types – yarn stores, fabric stores, quilting shops.  About 25% of the place is vacant with “For Lease” signs in abundance.  Looks like Roseburg is right on the tipping point of becoming cool again – or fading away.  Hope it makes it.

From Roseberg, we catch I-5 for Gretchen’s house – only 45 minutes to the Azalea exit.  At the Azalea exit, it’s only a few turns up the road before we come to Gretchen’s half-mile dirt driveway shooting straight up into the sky, it seems.  We need a 4-wheel drive vehicle.  Without one, we have to back down the driveway to get a running start.  I am terrified with the spinning wheels.  How does Gretchen manage that?

Finally, the tires grip the dirt and we make it to the top and there sits Gretchen’s magnificent house and the guest house tucked up by the tree line.  Tranquility sits in as we unpack and share a beer on the deck. 

I marvel at my friend Gretchen’s talent.  She created a beautiful place in the woods while running the mass transit ticket systems in at least five major international cities – and she’s a terrific cook.  Dinner was great.

Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House

We chat a little and then go to the guesthouse to settle in.  I impale my thigh on the staircase made of antler horns – Ouch!  A bat flaps around in the loft, but I’m not afraid.  We doze off in a most quiet, peaceful place.

September 26 – Wednesday – Gretchen’s House in the Oregon Mountains

Bill and I shower, drink coffee and enjoy the morning while Gretchen is in the big house managing staff and clients on an 8 o’clock conference call.  She joins us about 9. 
We relax even more while she prepares a breakfast frittata with spinach and sun dried tomatoes, served with a variety of delicious fruit.  How does she do it?  After brunch, a family of deer drops by to say “Hi.”  She knows them all and has stories of some of them when they were just little does.

Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Bill Making Breakfast
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's Deer

We take a walk on her 300 acre property.  Gretchen shows us how she splits the logs and stores them in her bar for firewood she’ll need in the winter.  She picks the best blackberries and points out all the animal tracks and scat.  She carries a handsaw to do a little trimming and clearing along the way.  She can operate any piece of equipment – and is especially fond of her bobcat.  She loves her land.  I can tell it nourishes her soul.  I am proud to have her as my longtime friend – a true “Survivor Granny.”

Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House
Gretchen's House

We come back to the house for lunch – salad and leftovers – even better now.
Bill connects the tv / cable box / DVD in the guesthouse and then prepares the car for the long journey home, organizing the trunk and cleaning the windshield.

I sit out on the deck in the most perfect weather, drink a beer and catch up on the last of my journal.  Thank you Gretchen for sharing your paradise with us.

September 27 – Thursday – Going Home

We wake up early and fumble around in the dark for some coffee and cereal and accidently break Gretchen’s soap dish.  Don’t ever invite us to your house!

We leave the cabin about 6.  The early morning drive was peaceful without the trucks that would eventually fill up the right lane. 

The day is mostly a blur – traffic with intermittent gas and pee stops.  It is a hot day making the long I-5 corridor even more uncomfortable.  I take the wheel for a while and listen to Steve Job’s biography to distract my brain from the monotony of the endless miles. 

We arrive just north of LA as rush hour traffic is about to set in. I find a Mexican Restaurant on the GPS.  It wasn’t easy to locate and ends up being a second rate Rubio's tucked away in some tacky mall.  The fish in my fish tacos taste bad, so I pretend the refried beans were enough to fill me up.  The Negra Modelo was really what I needed.

Back at the wheel about 6:45, Bill breezes through L.A. with only a few stops in the traffic.  We arrive HOME about 9 – 15 hours on the road – oh so glad to be home -- HOME SWEET HOME!  We wander around in a daze thinking we are putting things away and getting stuff done, but actually, we’re not thinking at all.  After over 3 weeks on the road, we climb into our own bed with memories of the trip already fading. 

 visit billandnancyinteractive.com © Bill and Nancy Interactive, 2005-09. All Rights Reserved