Raining on the Oregon Coast–Really!?

It is exactly what we expected when we planned a trip north from Brookings for this week in mid February.  Why north when the possibilities for good weather were probably much better if we went south?  The MoHo is in Brookings, and for the last few trips our route has been south, heading for the California beaches, the California deserts, warm days, sunny skies.  But that is the key word, California, and we decided it might be nice to skip the traffic and people and explore our own magnificent coastline farther north than we have been together in the MoHo. 

The plan was for a leisurely amble north toward Astoria, fully expecting rain and storms.  There are huge groups of people who migrate to this coast specifically at this time of year to storm watch, and it is also time for the migrating gray whales to be moving north.  Imagine our surprise on Saturday afternoon when we arrived in Brookings to sunny skies and temperatures as high as 60 degrees!  There wasn’t a bit of fog except for a low bank on the horizon far west of the shoreline, and the bluebird skies were wonderful. 

When we left Rocky Point, the sun was shining on the freshly fallen skiff of snow and over the pass we passed through some serious winter conditions with a bit of whiteout here and there.  In Medford it was cloudy and raining, in Grants Pass the hail and sleet were pounding hard on the roof and then we passed through intermittent rain and squalls and sunshine all the way to Hiouchi, where we habitually check to see if our “spot” is empty.  Usually it is taken, and we smiled remembering camping there along the little creek.  It is a great little campground just inland from Crescent City. 

With the MoHo stored in Brookings just a few minutes from Harris Beach, we have no need to stay anywhere else.  Harris Beach has become our first and last night destination of choice.  This time when we opened up the storage shed, all was perfect, no bad smells, no vandals cutting holes in the walls to ransack our rig, no mice shredding anything at all.  Even though we assume the MoHo is safe, we have learned the hard way that when she is away from us for a few weeks at a time, who knows what surprises might await us when we open that door.

We drove immediately to the park where we scored another front row site with electric, water, and cable.  Other sites in this row were completely full since most of them have a tremendous view of the ocean.  Our view was not quite as dramatic, but we still could see the wide open sea from our back window.  In spite of the sun, the wind was chilly and even though we picked up some local firewood bundles, the wet grass and cold breezes kept us cozy and warm inside.

We set up the rig, and then ran back to town to buy enough groceries at Freddy’s to be sure that we would qualify for our ten cent off fuel cost the next morning when we planned to fill the empty MoHo.  Just down the street from Freddy’s (Fred Meyer Stores for those who aren’t Northwesterners), is the delightful little quilt shop I found our last time in Brookings.  I thought it might be nice to check in there that afternoon since the next day was Sunday and of course quilt shops probably wouldn’t be open.  Big surprise!

I had somehow managed to hit the first quilt shop in a list of 14 in the last weekend of the ongoing Quilt Run 101, stretching from Brookings all the way to Astoria.  I had Sunday and Monday to get my passport card stamped at each of the 14 shops to qualify for a fancy Janome quilting machine or one of many gift certificates.  Whoopie!  We had already decided that we would move fairly quickly through the southern  and mid coast where we have traveled before and slow down to explore the north coast, so the two day run wasn’t really much different than our original plan. 

We woke on Sunday morning once again to brilliant sunshine and no fog.  Winds coming from the north were cold, but I guess that is what keeps the fog away this time of year. Before we got back on the road, we enjoyed walking in the morning sunlight down toward the beach and were aghast at the level of the high tide.  The entire beach was almost completely inundated, something we haven’t seen before.  Texting back and forth with my daughter, I mentioned it and she immediately sent the following text message to me:

“When the Moon, earth, and Sun are positioned in a straight line at new or full Moon, the tide producing forces of the Sun and Moon are added together giving extra low tides called “spring tides”.  These are the best tides for beach combing, clamming or visiting tidepools.  During the Moon’s first and last quarters, the Sun and Moon act at right angles to each other, and the result is a much reduced tidal range called a “neap tide”.  Mom, you are seeing mixed tides and the highest high tide is in the morning in the spring”

So did she touch type that whole thing into her phone or copy it over from somewhere else?!!

I can’t remember when we have driven this part of the coast in sunshine, and it felt like we were in a completely new world. The quilt shop run was great fun, especially for Mo doing the driving, since almost all the shops were right on the main highway and parking on this lovely Sunday was easy, many times we pulled the MoHo and Toad right up to the front of the shop. 

As a brand new quilter, I had so much fun seeing all the different styles of quilting and the different focus of each shop reflecting the owner’s artistic bent.  We made it all the way to Newport on that first day, visiting 8 of the 14 shops, and Mo had a nice day while I shopped, walking Abby in the sunshine in all the little towns.  In Florence, Mo was walking down the street and met a little girl who loved Abby and said, “Do you want me to go home and get my dog?”  Mo said no, but within minutes the little girl was back with her dog, a sweet little beagle, who loved Abby as well. Too bad Mo doesn’t carry the camera!

South Beach State Park, just south of Newport, is familiar to us, a place where the beach is some distance from the campground, but roomy and we knew there wouldn’t be a problem getting a site.  By the time we reached Newport, the sunny skies were just a memory and the normal gray clouds of the coast settled in around us.  Again, in spite of the lovely campsite with a great fire pit, our wood went unused.  The soup I had thawed went unused as well, since we thought it would be fun to go down to old town Newport for some obligatory coastal fish and chips.  It was surprisingly busy in spite of the rain, but we found a table at the Rogue (used to be brewery but they moved the brewing part across the river) and had halibut fish and chips for 13.95 market price.  It was a great little place, with fun people watching and a cozy vibe.  I topped off the perfect halibut with a Dead Guy Ale.  Gotta love those crafted brew names.

We left on Monday morning with only 135 miles and six shops to visit between Newport and Astoria.  As we drove north through the rain, the landscape looked much more familiar, with mist and fog shrouding the green mountains around us.  Sometimes the ocean was visible through the fog, and other times we couldn’t see much.  I filled up the day with color, however, and Mo enjoyed hanging in the MoHo reading while I shopped.  A couple of times I was asked if I had a husband  waiting in the car. Nope! There were a few guys shopping with their wives, but others just rolled their eyes at the thought of a patient person waiting while they shopped for fabric.  I couldn’t help thinking of Rick and Paulette and all her shopping trips. 

We gassed up the rig at Costco near Warrenton and unhooked the tracker for the ten mile run to Astoria, where I visited the last two shops and turned in my completed card with just minutes to spare.  We will slow down and visit Astoria again in the next few days, since I was worn out with shopping and was definitely ready to settle in for the night.

The rain intensified as we backtracked to pick up the MoHo and drive to Fort Stevens State Park it was raining hard.  Paul and Nina had recommended loop N for nice open sites, but when we arrived, the only loops open in the huge campground were H and I.  H had two rigs and I had two rigs, so we picked a spot on the I loop right next to the showers, something we often avoid, but it didn’t matter since no one was there.  Worked out perfect for me and I made use of the shower at 3AM just steps from the door, but you already know that part of the story.

The next day we planned to explore Fort Stevens, and decide whether we want to stay here or move a short distance south to the Camp Rilea Family Camp. Tune in to find out!

 

3 AM thoughts…and back to the Valley of Fire

I am listening to the sound of rain on the roof at the moment, around 3:30 am I think, and with sleep deciding to take a holiday around 2, I decided it might be a good time to catch up on things.  We are parked at the lovely Fort Stevens State Park, on the far north Oregon coast near Astoria, in one of only two open loops, and our rig is just steps from the showers.  To spare the sleeping Mo, I slipped over to the unlimited hot water for a very long shower before settling in with computer and tea to remember how it felt back in Nevada just 8 days ago.

While we were traveling in Las Vegas, I didn’t have my computer or camera with me, and of course, didn’t take time to read all the blogs I try to follow.  Sometimes when I let the reading slip, I get a little bit worried about folks.  What if I miss something truly earth shattering that has happened to someone I care about, even though I may have never met them?  I know this is a bit silly, but then it happened again.  A distant blog friend experienced a life changing moment and I missed it. It is their life and their story, so I won’t link to it here, but if you know Sherry and David you might want to be sure to check in and send good thoughts.

Blogging is a personal hobby, reading blogs has been a diversion that I enjoy, but we all know it doesn’t require the kind of commitment that up front, real life friendships require.  It is somehow ephemeral, and when we slip away for a time, the world doesn’t end.  At least not usually.

So when I slip away from writing, I have learned to at least try my best to catch up on my reading.  I would hate to jabber away on some stupidity, all lalala about whatever is going on at the moment, completely ignoring that someone is seriously ill, or has lost their life-time pet, or worst of all, their life.  Yeah, this blog is all about me, but somehow things shift a bit, and it is also about my interaction with readers as well.  After all, all those comments and all those hits mean I am no longer in this thing alone.  Just one of those 3am thoughts, I guess.

Now, here in the darkness of a rainy night, I will slip back into the photos of our day at the Valley of Fire more than a week ago, and remember. 

Our second night at the Main Street Station was fabulous.  We were moved down to the 4th floor, without the expansive views of our first night, but with only the tolerable white noise of the big fans on the casino roof just below us.  We were also blessedly on a non smoking floor.  To bed by 2am or so, we slept on the perfectly firm bed with a cushy top, snuggled up by a great comforter and several different kinds of pillows, soft to very fat.  Take your pick. 

Sunday morning we ambled down around 10 to enjoy one of the best Sunday brunches in Las Vegas, or so it said.  It was wonderful, 8.95 each for an amazing spread, including unlimited pourings of champagne, with or without the orange juice. Our waitress was diligent in keeping our coffee and our champagne glasses full. The choices were just about limitless, but we did manage to keep our meal somewhat reasonable in size, picking and choosing among our favorites.  Everything was scrumptious.

After that leisurely breakfast, it was time to get out of town and see the desert.  The last time we were in the area, we went to Laughlin, and we also have been west of town in the Red Rocks area, and thought it might be nice to try something different.  A quick check of Google maps on the phone showed the route east to Valley of Fire was a simple turn north from our Main Street location to I-15, and another simple 20 miles or so to the turn toward Lake Mead. 

The desert was incredibly gorgeous on that Sunday, with brilliant skies made even more beautiful with wild clouds that threatened rain, although it never actually fell. Our first view of the Valley of Fire was lovely, but if you only pass by on the highway and maybe stop in at the visitor center, you could miss the full effect of this remnant of the Colorado Plateau.  I am a red rock canyon country junkie, and had no idea there was a piece of red heaven this far south.

The visitor center was a great stop, with wonderful displays explaining the complex geology and faulting of the area.  I saw familiar names that I carry in my heart, Chinle, Moenkopi, Navajo, names of the sandstone formations I am so familiar with farther north.  Here, the Apache sandstone overlies Chinle, pink and yellow as well as red, a rainbow of hues that seemed especially surreal in the late afternoon light.

We drove north into the park toward the White Dome area, where I found a trail leading down a canyon and across slickrock that looked like pastel watercolors. Again, only the iPhone to try to capture that color, but Mo had her Fuji mini camera as well, and took a few shots while I was running around oohing and aahing at the amazing color and formations. 

We checked out the campground as well, 30 bucks a night for hookups, with several spaces big enough for two or three rigs with unobstructed views of the desert beyond.  There were plenty of vacancies, and we added this spot to our list of places that we might like to camp someday.  It would be great to just hang out here and have time to wander among the rock formations.

We took a circular route back, traveling east toward Lake Mead and then along the North Shore road into North Las Vegas.  The drive was so much fun in the little Fiat, and the gorgeous sunset over the lights of Las Vegas as we dropped back into the valley was the perfect finale.

The next morning, Monday, we explored our own casino a bit more.  The one thing we didn’t like about Main Street Station was the lack of simple restaurants.  We only had the big buffet and the fancy restaurant and brewery, but no place to get a morning cup of coffee, not even a pot in the room to brew tea!  As we were leaving, we discovered that the Main Street Station is linked with a closed skywalk to the California casino across the street, and there were half a dozen different venues, just steps away from our room that included espresso and bakeries, little coffee shops, and lots of other goodies.  We were really happy with our choice to stay Downtown at Main Street rather than on the strip and would choose it again.  Especially since it is so easy to get out of town entirely from this area.

Once again, we did the cattle call seating option for Allegiant, with a bit less success this time.  Our number was  too high to get seats together, and I ended up in the very back of the plane, in an aisle seat across from the big exit door with no window at all.  A bit claustrophobic to say the least.  We arrived home a bit late to rain and snow in Medford and snow on the pass.  Gotta love winter coming finally in February, I guess. Overall, the trip turned out to be a delightful little winter escape.

Sinning in Sin City

It sounds good, but really, at this stage in life, sinning amounts to little more than eating way too much good food and dropping a few bucks into the slot machines.  But there is nothing quite like a trip to Vegas to get a taste of all the excesses available to anyone who has the time and money.  The most excessive part of this short little whirlwind trip for us was popping for tickets to Elton John’s concert at Caesar’s Palace, The Million Dollar Piano.

For years the music of Elton John was part of the background of my life.  I enjoyed it, but never paid much attention.  As years went by, however, I would hear something amazingly melodic and rich and sure enough, it was Elton John.  I also heard that he put on a concert rivaled by few that was worth seeing.  I think the first time I tried to get tickets was back in the early 90’s, in the days when phones would do automatic redial trying to get through that busy signal.  By the time I got through, the tickets were sold out.  That story was repeated a few times, more recently when he was playing in Portland and other venues in the northwest.  Always long gone by the time I got through.

Now, however, he is playing in Vegas.  Maybe that is a sign of the times, when all the old stars finally make there way to the Vegas stages. Motley Crue and Chicago are even there right now. The nice thing about this, though, is that there are enough shows scheduled that getting tickets is not an impossible dream.  Hence the four day trip to Las Vegas.  Allegiant Airlines flies out of Medford, direct, for a very reasonable price.  The airline tickets were cheaper than the concert tickets at least. Cut rate airlines are an experience of themselves.  Buying online, we discovered that if we wanted an assigned seat, it was an extra 8.95 for each leg of the flight, if we wanted water in flight, it was 2 bucks a bottle.  If we wanted to check in prior to boarding, we had to pop for the assigned seat.  Mo and I were reeling from the concert tickets and decided to skip the seat assignments.  No big deal, right? It was only an hour and a half flight anyway.

The reality was funny, though, like the old days with Southwest airlines cattle calls, we had to get to the airport early enough to hopefully get a low number for the lineup.  Once on the plane, we could take whatever seats were left by the time we got there.  We checked no baggage and brought peanuts for sustenance.

Arriving in Vegas after ten pm, we caught the rental car shuttle to the state of the art new rental car facility about 7 miles south of McCarren field.  I was impressed.  The whole car rental experience was simple and straightforward, at least until we attempted to open the windows of our tiny compact car, a neon yellow Fiat 500.  It also took Mo a few miles to discover that the reason the engine kept winding up was because shifting was required.  No clutch, just shift by hitting the joy stick on the console.  Sirius radio and heated seats added to the delight of a tiny car that somehow felt pretty darn roomy inside and had lots of zip on the road.

Mo and I haven’t been to Vegas since 2004 when we flew down and spent a day in town before driving for a week or so around Death Valley.  We decided it might be fun to stay downtown near Fremont street and the Main Street Station turned out to be a great choice.  On the first night we had a room on the 14th floor facing north, right over the freeway and the railroad tracks.  No earl plugs?  ahh.  I had no idea I would need them inside a big hotel.  Somehow we ended up on a smoking floor as well, but a phone call to the desk was worthwhile since the next morning we were moved down to the non smoking, much quieter 4th floor for the rest of our stay.

We enjoyed a slow Saturday morning walking Fremont street before we boarded the sleek and efficient SDX bus to the strip.  We spent the rest of the day walking the strip, in and out of all those incredible casinos that are like a huge Disneyland for grown-ups.  Grown ups with more money than we had, for sure, but I still really loved strolling through Neiman Marcus fingering Oscar de la Renta gowns, Jimmy Choo shoes, and Prada bags.  I like a good bag.  Two hundred bucks is a big deal, but when I picked up that 2,800 Prada bag I wondered about my daughters and how one purse could pay a couple of big mortgage payments, or a pair of shoes could pay for some badly needed dental work.  Vegas is definitely a place to feel the ridiculous imbalance that is part of our culture now.  There were lots of homeless folks in our end of town as well.

After miles and miles and hours and hours of walking, we settled in for the “sin” part, a great Italian supper at Trevi’s in the Forum Shops at Caesar’s Palace.  I had some kind of succulent drink that should have been on a cruise ship with red italian wine, peach liqueur and who knows what else. It was decadent and delicious.  We just sat there a long time enjoying our meal and the changing (fake) skies that turned from dawn to dusk several times as we sat there in the courtyard.  I don’t think there is any place better than Vegas for people watching, either, and we were fabulously entertained by the shifting crowd passing by on the mall.

Finally it was time for the show, and we filed in with several thousand other excited folks, dressed in everything from jeans to spandex to sequins.  I knew I had been sequestered too long in the back woods when I realized I was gawking at the gorgeous young girls wearing what must be the latest “thing”.  Their dresses were stretchy like a girdle, covered the part from the breasts (barely) to the panty line (barely), with platform shoes that had heels with more inches then their skirts.  It was great fun, but sure did remind me that I am in my sixties and fashion is completely irrelevant at this stage. 

Once inside the theater, we could feel the excitement building.  I was surprised that the crowd was so diverse, all ages, all styles, and all seemingly thrilled to be there.  When EJ came on stage, the roar was huge.  He was dressed tastefully in a sparkly black tuxedo, with a nod to his old self expressed in some crazy bright red tennis shoes and a subdued pair of barely colored glasses.  He started with “Benny and the Jets”, not one of my favorites, but the lights and the music and the sound built throughout the show in a way that kept me alternately in goose bumps and tears.  You have no idea how much this music is in the background of our lives till you hear the melodies and find yourself singing the words.

His voice is deeper and richer, and while he doesn’t hit the high notes the way he once did,  there is a strength and quality in his singing that is breathtaking. Two young men from Croatia on electric cellos, (appropriately called the Two Cellos) expanded the richness of the music and his percussionist took my heart away, even his tambourine sounded like a full scale orchestra.  And yes.  The Piano.  The Million Dollar Piano.  I never heard anyone play a piano like this, truly.  Rachmaninoff maybe.  I know, apples and oranges, but still.  Goosebumps and tears.  It was not just a rock-n-roll concert.  It was incredible.  Of course, I wanted it to never end.

We left with the crowd with our eyes filled with lights and our ears with sound, enough that the lights and sounds of Vegas seemed almost irrelevant.  Caesar’s Palace is right next to the famous Bellagio Fountains, which obligingly started up their musical water dance in time for us to enjoy.  On our way south along the strip, I saw many of those girls in those skinny dresses and high shoes, tugging at the dresses and carrying their shoes!  Another reason to maybe skip this particular fashion trend!

We found our SDX stop and climbed up to the upper deck for the slow ride back downtown, thoroughly enjoying the street shows below us at each stop.  It was a great day, but we both agreed that the next day was going to be our chance to get out of town and away from all that glitz and craziness.  Vegas is great but the desert calls.

Just a quick note here as well, I didn’t pack a computer or even a camera for this trip.  Managed to get these photos with my iPhone.  It is rather amazing what a telephone can do, but of course, it ain’t the Nikon.

It’s all about Red

At the moment, however, everything seems black and white and shades of gray with a little bit of brown and green thrown in here and there.  January is gone and February has returned, as it usually does every year.  In spite of my usual feelings about dreary February, this year seems different somehow.  Maybe because our winter has been so mild, or maybe because I seem to have surrounded myself with RED.

Mo was away for two weeks, doing her annual dog sitting for brother Dan near Portland and I kept myself busy with three weeks of soil survey work to make up for the last trip and filled in the spaces with knitting, sewing, quilting, and baking.  Even with the lack of snow, the temperatures still call for keeping the fire going and an occasional shoveling project to keep the driveway clear.  With Mo gone, I really hoped to be spared any big snowstorms since I don’t drive the tractor and wouldn’t have a clue how to plow our road.  Abby stayed with me for company and that soft little feeling of safety at night that seems to go along with having a dog by your side. She was good company. 

Back in December, we happened on a great sofa sale and the delivery happened while Mo was away.  Our old sofa (not THAT old actually) was big and sloppy, perfect for the huge living room we had back in the California mobile, but here in our cozy house it was just too massive.  Once again, Melody and Kevin were the happy recipients of our hand-me-downs and we filled the living room with a perfect brick red sofa and loveseat.  Still comfortable, but scaled more to our style, our bodies, and our room.  Kevin is thrilled to have the huge sofa with two recliners added to his living room, and now they have enough seating for all the dogs, cats, teenagers, and adults that hang out at their house.  I love the color of the sofa, not really red, but a brick color that is almost impossible to capture in a photo, and believe me I tried!

On a Saturday weekend I drove the hour and fifteen minutes to the well known and fabulous quilt shop in Merrill, called the Tater Patch.  What a delight for the senses!  I picked up some red and pink and white fabric to go with what I already had and managed to find a heart quilt block on the internet.  I filled more gray days with brilliant fabric, following internet tutorials, and dropped in to the small neighborhood quilt shop as well for instruction and encouragement.  I even managed to hand quilt the hearts and just finished the binding yesterday after Mo returned home. When I tired of quilting, I picked up the sweater I am knitting for Deanna, making progress, but just  bit slower since I discovered playing with fabric and cutting it all up and sewing it all back together.  Nutty pastime!

More red.

On the previous Monday, daughter Melody had three days off in a row, an almost unheard of delight.  She cleaned house like crazy for two days and on the third day she piled into the car with my granddaughter and a LOT of baking supplies and headed for Rocky Point. We spent the day making an incredibly decadent cake she had seen on the internet last year called, “Lincoln’s Red Velvet Cream Cheese Cake”.  The cake is filled with an entire cheesecake between two layers of rich red velvet and frosted with cream cheese frosting decorated with white and milk chocolate.  Sinful!!  I cut a slice, cut another one for Jean the local quilting lady to thank her for her help, and sent the rest home to the previously mentioned houseful of big men, teenaged boys, and assorted others.  Good thing!  That cake could destroy a month of dieting in one day!  

More red.

Speaking of teenagers, my youngest grandson turned 13 last week.  Another day in town searching for just the right thing yielded a sporty athletic jacket that seemed to hit the spot.  How in the world do you have a clue what to give a boy turning 13 that isn’t a video game or money!  I was sure to include the gift receipt with the jacket, but it wasn’t needed. 

I’m happy to have Mo back home.  Somehow her way of having a regular routine keeps me happy in a way that I don’t manage myself.  I wander aimlessly, doing things at all different hours of the day and night, eating strange things at the wrong time, and waking up at four am to sew with no one else to consider.  Dogs and people like routine I think.  Abby and I are both happy to get up like normal humans around 6am, and eat dinner in the evening, and go to the hot tub at the same time most nights.

I have been reading about folks traveling in Texas, at Quartzite, in the desert southwest, and down in Florida.  Much as I love the desert, those Florida beaches and crystalline rivers are calling me hard for next winter.  I really do hope we can be there.  In the mean time, we are planning a coast trip again, this time traveling north as far as we feel like going, and fully expecting rain and storms.  The Oregon Coast can be so gorgeous and dramatic during stormy whale season.  Should be fun, and we will leave the first of March. 

We are also planning the mid-summer trip to Colorado for Mo’s family reunion near her sister’s home in Denver and just got excited when we looked at the map and realized that we could leave via the northern route and finally get the MoHo to the Black Hills and fill in that South Dakota hole on our map.  Should be a fun trip.  Again, we don’t want to be gone for more than two weeks or so because this year for sure we are going to camp at some of the fabulous places right here in our own beautiful Oregon.  I still remember Laurie talking about the beauty of Joseph Oregon, and that is on the summer list as well.