I’ve been struggling with this entry since last Tuesday when the light in our world dimmed with the passing of our good friend Nancy Conner. She left far too soon but God deemed her mission complete on this plane of existence and called her home.
What makes it most difficult for those of us left behind is that she was healthy and happy. She worked tirelessly for the past three years to keep our small congregation going without the guidance of a full-time pastor. Included in her efforts was guiding us through a difficult two vote process to change our affiliation from one of neglect to one of unconditional support. Also during that time our congregation found and hired our new pastor. It was not easy, but she kept us all going.
The reason many of us feel that God called her is because last Sunday we installed our new pastor then on Tuesday, as she was walking her 5-mile route to our church, something she regularly did, she was struck by a vehicle. She subsequently expired from severe head trauma later that day.
She is missed. She will be missed forever more. Thankfully we all have the memory of her guiding example to lead us forward.
It’s been a few days since we returned from Myrtle Beach and I didn’t honor the last statement in my last post about “more tomorrow”, so this is to get you up to date and share with you the end of the trip.
Getting out of Myrtle Beach was a breeze. It’s nice there, but we were ready to be home. There’s stuff we need to do there.
The trip to Seattle was just fine and we didn’t have any problem getting to our connection to Portland in plenty of time. As a matter of fact, we could have been an hour late and still made that flight.
That’s true.
Remember on our trip where Alaska wouldn’t hold our connecting flight for 10 minutes so we could make that flight, because our uflight was kept on the tarmac for 30 minutes after landing? Well, after missing it we discovered that they didn’t have any problem delaying every flight we were on thereafter. After landing in Seattle coming home, the Captain told everyone that we’d be at gate D-5 as he pulled the plane between terminals D and N.
Then he stopped. And we waited about 5 minutes.
The terminal we wanted was on the left of the plane and I told Diane I bet he turns right into N. That’s exactly what he did.
Doing this, of course meant we’d have to catch the underground train to D terminal and walk lots further than we wanted to. As we debarked, the Captain was waiting the door to the flight deck greeting to people and I said, “D-5, huh?” to which he replied, “it looks a lot like D-5. I was lucky to get what we got.” That pretty much sums up the mass confusion that seems to affect Seattle’s ability to keep track of how many gates they have and how many are open to receive planes. It’s pathetic, in my opinion.
Oddly enough, our connecting flight to Portland was leaving from, gee, D-5. It was empty when we got there. We chose to just park ourselves in the area and wait the hour required for it to show up.
About the time we were scheduled to board the plane the pilot, copilot and all the flight attendants showed up but the plane still wasn’t there. We waited for an entire hour more before they changed the time to delayed, then it was most of an hour more before it actually showed up. No reason was provided for our delay so I suppose it was just something we were expected to endure. We were, after all, at SeaTac International. That seems to be the way it is.
We eventually made it back to Portland and vowed to never, ever again make a connecting flight through Seattle. I don’t think I’d fly into Seattle even it that was our destination. The train would be faster, and more reliable.
Now, having shared all of the foregoing, I will add that I don’t think Alaska Airlines was the only one at fault for our delays. Not having a berth at a terminal for incoming flights seems to be a theme at SeaTac which I think is due to mismanagement some where up the chain. I don’t think traffic controllers are the ones calling the shots for where planes park, they just relay the information. Maybe.
Now I’ll share a photo form Joint Base Charleston where we found a Navy Uniform Shop. We wanted a new hat.
What caught my eye, and the reason I took the photo, is the “68” in the bottom right. It’s the USS Nimitz (CVN-68), the oldest nuclear super carrier in the fleet. It’s stationed in Bremerton, Washington and our grandson, Cedric, is currently serving aboard her. Looking closely you can see a sailor shoveling snow off the flight deck of this carrier. I’m pretty sure it’s not Cedric. It’s just struck me as very interesting that the Nimitz was part of this east coast collage.
Here are a couple more photos I took when we finally got home.
Our dogwood tree was sheddingDiane, Jennifer, and Lydia at paint night. This is the first time Diane ever went with us and she loved it.A Mt. Hood sunrise with a partial moon.The same sunrise that I blew up a little. Lower, and to the right of the moon is a tiny little white dot. It’s the International Space Station and we just happened to be looking when it made it’s pass. It really moves along quickly.
We walked again, very slowly because our little legs were sore, and there is a lot to see and do here in Myrtle Beach.
Instead of trudging our way up the beach (north), as we did the day before, we stuck to N. Ocean Blvd, walking south. I think we walked a couple of miles (one going and one coming) and the handy dandy app on my iPhone incorrectly reported that I took 6400+ steps doing it. I know that’s wrong because Diane’s fitbit told her she walked over 9300 steps and covered over 4 miles with the effort. I’ve brought this discrepancy to her attention many times and she always says, “you set it up.” What she means, of course, is that I entered the information about how long her steps are.
Considering that she gets credit for twice as many steps as me I can only presume that she either changed the settings or I made a mistake setting it up.
The other possibility is that the app I’m watching is the generic one provided by the infallible Apple people that keeps track of “stuff” only when it’s on your body. My phone isn’t always on my body. Ergo, I’m going to use Diane’s numbers instead of mine from now on. Looks better. Also, the length of her step isn’t much different than mine any more because I’m in the shuffling stage of life and, due to my excessive military career, tend to walk in step with her as we mosey along. So, I walked over 9,000 steps yesterday, too.
So, on this trip south, which fronts pretty much all of the big resorts along the beach, for 50 miles we had an opportunity to see some pretty snazzy places. Lots of them have tricky names like RipTydz, or Sea Dip Motel & Condominium Family Resort. Tricky stuff like that. There were many more, of course, but I can’t remember all of them.
I don’t know what this place is. Maybe Diane knows.
We stopped in a few shops and determined that shopping on the ‘strip’ wasn’t financially feasible and decided to drive inland for a while to see if things got better.
We’re thinking we’ll go to Conway today. Diane read something about it in the tour guide book and thought it would be fun. On a map it looks like a long ways from the beach, but it’s only about 30 minutes away. More on that later. Maybe.
We found this boardwalk not far from our hotel. As you can see, like most other vacation destinations Myrtle Beach has it’s very own giant ferris wheel. We will not be going on this one, called Sky-Something, even thought it actually stops to let people on and off unlike the really BIG ones.
In the middle of all the busyness there was a plaque that totally defines Diane’s Credo.
On the way back I was intrigued by this facility. Considering it’s diminutive size I thought it was improperly named. But, since it’s right across the street from a very large, tall, resort, and it appears to be pretty old, I suspect that it’s been here a while, no doubt before the big boys moved in.
After the walking tour we went to the movie to see Downton Abbey. Diane’s been wanting to see it since it was released and, I admit, so did I. Yes, I’m a fan.
The last two photos are just looking ahead to future movie possibilities.
Then we went “home” and watched the sunset from our porch.
This morning Diane noticed that the water was making scallops on the beach as it came it, unlike it’s been doing previously. Although the waves were still pretty straight, the way they finished coming in was very interesting.
Now we’re going to Conway to visit a museum which you will learn all about when we make it back.
Ciao.
PS – The movie Downton Abbey was absolutely wonderful. Highly recommended for those who were addicted to the TV series.
Today (Friday) we ate quite well. Not that we haven’t eaten well on previous days lately, but today we ate exceptionally well. The Sea Mist Oceanfront Resort, where we currently reside, had a package for all of us old USS Cleveland sailors that included tickets to eat at The Original Benjamin’s Calabash Seafood buffet. The web site shows the innards better than I can but here’s a quick peek at some of our group chowing down in our own private section of the facility.
Pretty much any kind of seafood you desire, especially shrimp, is presented in many different ways. Pretty amazing. Calabash, by the way, is a word that describes food in this way: Calabash seafood typically refer to seafood that is lightly breaded (usually dipped in milk & then a combo of flour & cornmeal) and then fried. Usually in a calabash-style restaurant you will get huge portions, oftentimes with a combination plate of several types of seafood – shrimp, various kinds of fish, crab, oysters, etc.. and hushpuppies. Calabash is also the name of a small town in North Carolina near the southern border north of Myrtle Beach. Driving on Myrtle Beach one is assaulted with all manner of calabash restaurants. It gets a bit confusing after a bit. Just remember, it’s all good. I’m happy to report, too, that none of it caused my blood sugar to spike. I think another reason it was OK is that Diane was very careful about what I ate. She takes really good care of me.
I would have liked to stay a little longer at the buffet but we had to leave in order to make it to the Alabama Theater before 7 pm to see ONE The Show. It was truly a great show and is highly recommended by all of us who attended.
We weren’t allowed to take photos of the show so this is the only picture I got of the inside. It’s special because it has Diane in it.
The host of the show, Greg Rowles, who won Ed McMahon’s Star Search Show as the Best Male Vocalist 25 years ago, honored all of us USS Cleveland sailors and even provided a lot of the ship’s history. Pretty special evening.
After the show we all headed back to the Sea Mist for our last night at that facility. After breakfast Sunday morning we packed up and drove all the way north to Hilton’s Ocean 22 high rise. It took 11 minutes. We fiddled around a while, driving north to an enormous RV park, with a very small dune that one must traverse to access the beach. It looks like a place we should visit.
From the looks of things, fishing off the beach is a requirement.
The deed is done and this is just the wrap up of an event that’s been in the planning stages for years. As Sarah would say, she got “Mauied”.
To begin this day of joy and change Diane took a trip to the University of Hawaii Maui campus. That’s where the Maui Swap meet is held. The reason for our trip there was to obtain some outer wear for some little people we know back in Oregon. That, and to look around a bit. One thing I noticed right away was that prices were a bit steep for a swap meet. Hats, for instance. One gentleman had hundreds of them stacked neatly on many tables and his price for a baseball hat was $28! That’s not a swap meet price. I didn’t want a baseball hat anyway. The items Diane found were much more reasonable.
While in the vicinity, we took an moment to capture a selfie to show Jeran that Corban University is being promoted everywhere we go.
Only 40 chairsBeautiful backdropDiane shedding her pre-wedding jitters Same for RuthSarah and Dad Larry begin the march They arrived safelyIt was a flawless handoffRings were exchangedThe final blessing were givenThen “The Kiss”I think she’s happy Now it’s reception timeGrandma RuthGreat Aunt Diane
I went through the line twice – once with Ruth and again with Diane. Lucky me.
Ruth and LarryLarry and Diane
After the reception line it was into the hall for the reception dinner, after all the photos were taken. Right about this time Diane became ill and had to leave but she insisted I had to stay and eat. I did that then she came back to get me after the crowd began to get rowdy, like young crowds tend to do. They were having a terrific time and I was worried about Diane so it was all OK.
Diane was pretty sick and we spent all of Sunday inside – Diane rested and I stayed quiet like a mouse.
Now we’re going to take it real easy until our flight Wednesday morning. Maybe we’ll find an opportunity to visit Goodwill, but that remains to be seen.
Yes, we came to Maui to attend a wedding for Jason and Sarah. For those who don’t know the family history, Sarah is our Grand Niece who was originally from Connecticut. Then she discovered Jason and moved west, to Hillsboro, to be with him. Then they got married the day before yesterday (the 21st). I believe that was the last day of summer in most parts of the world.
That’s the happy couple. In case you ever wind up in St. Vincent’s Hospital you’re in good hands. Sarah’s an RN and that’s where she works, and she works a lot.
The road to Maui was, I’m told, a year-long planning event for Sarah and Jason, Sarah mostly. Seems like I heard Jason mention something about finally being able to relax, not having to write any more checks, once the event was over so suspect he wasn’t as involved in the planning as was Sarah. I won’t dwell on the planning because I really have no firsthand knowledge of those efforts beyond what we experienced on the receiving end.
We arrived on Maui last Wednesday, the 18th, mid afternoon. Joined a bunch of people at the Budget Car Rental kiosk, got a Jeep Grand Cherokee, and headed for Kihei. It’s a simple drive south from the airport about 15 miles or so. That’s actually all the way across the isthmus between the two volcanoes that make the island. I find it interesting that only the east volcano has a name – Haleakala. The western volcano is only labeled “volcano” on the maps I’ve looked at. digging a little deeper in the narratives available, I found this:
The eastern volcano is Haleakala, a 10,000 foot shield volcano whose name means “House of the Sun”. Haleakala’s elevation means that it sometimes – briefly – has snow on top in the winter. The western part of the island is home to what geologists call Mauna Kahalawai, an eroded shield volcano commonly called the West Maui Mountains. Hawaiians also refer to the West Maui Mountains as “hale mahina”, or “house of the moon”.
I’m so happy I could resolve that dilemma for everyone, whether or not you were concerned. I was, but no longer am.
On Thursday, the 19th, we joined the Connecticut contingent of the wedding party fora little shopping on Front Street in Lahaina. This is Ruth, our Sister-in-Law and grandmother of the bride, her son Larry, Father of the bride, Valerie, Step Mom of the bride, and Diane, Grand Aunt of the bride.
There were others from the east coast but these are the primaries. We had a good day and only lost Larry for a little while when he went back to the car for a camera battery,
After shopping we returned to Ruth’s (and Larry’s & Valerie’s) accommodations to await the appointed time for a group supper at the Aloha Mixed Plate. Excellent food!
On Friday, the 20th, we decided to see if the Road to Hana is really all that bad. I’m happy to report that, thanks to Diane’s excellent driving skills, and her willingness to embark on such an adventure, that road is pretty much everything you may have ever heard about it. We did it and we’ll never have to do it again.
Hana, Maui is located on the south eastern part of Maui and is accessible only by air, boat, or a grueling drive on Highways 36, 360, and 31. It’s actually the same road all the way around Haleakala but some parts are considerably better than others. The Road to Hana is legendary and Diane got me the T-shirt to prove it:
A great deal of the road is single lane, especially over the dozens of bridges. It’s an exciting drive and Diane did every inch of it. It was truly amazing.
With a stop 1/3 of the way to Hana on the east side, the trip took about 4 hours. It’s only about 52 miles (according to the T-shirt) so that means we had to go pretty slow most of the time. Neither of us is prone to car sickness but we both got a little nauseous before reaching Hana.
Our stop was at a botanical garden. They call it that be, in truth, the entire trip was like driving through a huge botanical garden. Very lush, green, and humid.
Here’s one flower you’ve all seen at one time or another. I’d include more, but you’ve probably seen them, too.
OK, here’s another one …
The next one I don’t think is a flower. It’s a pod of some sort hanging in a tree. Don’t know what it is but it’s pretty and got my attention.
Diane toughed out the remainder of the trip to Hana but I could tell she was getting tired. I would have driven but we never allow Jerrie to drive rental cars. Besides, as Diane said, if she hadn’t been driving she would have been puking her guts out. I guess that was a left-handed compliment to me because, though a bit nauseous, I never once puked. Believe me, there was plenty of opportunity to do so.
Finally, we reached our goal just as I was on my way down to a diabetic crash due to lack of food. We stopped at the first eatery we saw, the Ranch Restaurant, and took a seat. When the waitress, Natalie, arrived Diane asked for a glass of orange juice for me which she got very quickly. We both had very good hamburgers and drinks and it only cost $51. Considering our situation, it was well worth it and it helped me maintain a vertical position.
While eating we discussed the return trip. Should we go back the way we came, or continue on around the mountain. Neither of us could remember if the rental car agent had warned us off the southern portion of Route 31, and Natalie said ‘Pshaw. It’s not raining and it’s a beautiful drive.’ We believed her. Before leaving, however, we took advantage of their restrooms because we knew there were none on the road. It takes a code to get in the door so if you’re ever in Hana, at the Ranch Restaurant, remember this number:
You actually don’t need to remember it because they freely hand out little slips of paper like this to anyone who asks.
Not long into the return trip I was pretty sure we had tipped Natalie too much. The north eastern segment, though very curvy, was actually pretty good road. The south western portion was just as curvy but the road varied from asphalt to gravel to dirt to broken asphalt, continue. It was a mess. But, it was a pretty drive and we were generally going slow enough that we could see stuff.
We finally made it back to our condo in time to watch the sun go down behind Molokai.
On the way back to our condo …
… we encountered this drill team practicing for a parade …
When the sun was all gone we had this view from our porch …
We did nothing the rest of the day and went to bed very early. The next morning we were presented with this little snippet of a rainbow. Never seen one like it …
There will be more about this day in my next post. I’m tired now.
I’m listening to my lovely wife, Diane. She told me a couple days ago that I haven’t posted anything during the month of July. I checked and, by golly, she’s absolutely correct. I haven’t. I can only attribute this lack of posting to old age or, perhaps I’ve simply used up most of the words available to me in a given period of time. I’ve heard that’s a ‘thing’. Diane has a cousin who, when she’s at a loss for words, says “…I must have used up all my nouns.”
Considering the amount of time that’s passed I’m pretty sure I can’t possibly remember things in proper sequence, if I can remember things at all, so I’m just going to ramble and see what happens. That way I can be just as surprised as you when something profound sneaks out.
Let’s see … on July 15th Jerrie Anne Diane Cate celebrated her 8th birthday which means the school district has no choice but to allow her to attend 3rd grade when school resumes in September. She’s pretty stoked about that. Matter of fact, she actually cried when the school year ended because she likes school that much. Her older sisters love school, too, so it’s apparently a genetic ‘thing’ that comes from their mother’s side of the family. I guess it could be from Diane, too, but it’s surely not from me. I was perfectly OK when summer showed up and I was still wearing little boy clothing.
Shortly after Jerrie’s birthday we fired up the bus and returned to Paradise Cove for a few days of R&R, by ourselves. You may recall we took The Littles there in June for about a week. We had big plans to spend a lot of time in the hot tub but I don’t remember doing that even one time. Instead we spent our time either sitting on or walking along one beach or another, watching the waves. The high light of the sitting part was when we parked ourselves on a tall dune above the remains of the Peter Iredale which has been a fixture on the beach at Fort Stevens State Park my entire life. We were there to watch the sunset and saw some whales playing along the shore spouting a few times, showing us their tails, then disappearing. It was pretty special which is good because the sun went behind some clouds and there was no proper sunset. It just got dark and chilly. Be we had whales!
We returned from that trip on Monday and had a few days days to recover, we thought, until Diane discovered that we had reservations at Big Eddy County Park near Vernonia on Wednesday. This was another trip with The Littles because it’s a yearly Family Camp for Jennie’s and Daniel’s church. We’re always invited and we almost always go because it’s great fun. The Littles went last year for the first time and loved it. They got to spend days, literally, in the Nehalem River, and they made lots of new friends. The great thing about this is that the church rents the entire park so the kids can be free to go wherever they want with no fear of something bad happening. They just had to check in with their home camp on a regular basis so we knew where they were and they could not venture into the river without adult supervision. All we adults had to do was sit around our campfires talking and eating snacks. Once in a while kids would show up and we’d have a meal. The big deal with food culminated in a dessert social where I cut Jerrie a piece of very rich chocolate cake that was far too large. She savored every morsel but wound up giving it all back, plus, later that evening. I suspect it tasted much better the first time it passed her lips. She recovered nicely the next day and was able to spend lots of time with her friend Lilly.
The bigger Littles (Gilligan & Baylee) put dozens of miles on bikes, riding all over the park with their friends. Most of the bike riders were careful but we had to be wary of the smaller ones with training wheels. They weren’t overly concerned about who was in front of them as they pedaled around, talking to whoever was riding next to them. Diane was almost run over many times because she either didn’t hear the rattle of those training wheels or she thought they actually knew about the rules when encountering old people. Like, don’t run into them. They tend to tip over and break things. Thankfully, that didn’t happen.
I exercised our small little BBQ for one meal by cooking hamburger and chicken patties. I don’t use it often, and only clean it when I do figuring that whatever bad things may have grown on it since the last use would surely be consumed during the warm-up phase. It’s worked so far and has provided us with some tasty hotdogs with a hint of steak and old hamburgers. They are a culinary treat. Now that we’re home I’m reminded that I need to remove the 4 chicken patties I left on the BBQ when I put it back in the RV. I have no valid reason for doing that. It just seemed to be OK at the time. I can already hear Diane calling my name, in large capital letters — “JEROLD BRADLEY CATE” — when she reads this.
In case you’re wondering about the danger of little kids playing in the Nehalem River, fear not. It’s not a big river. It’s more like a large creek. And there are always lots of people around lounging on a variety of different kinds of floating devices. It’s pretty safe.
That’s about it for this time. Hope everyone is having a wonderful summer.
… to everyone who wished me a Happy Birthday recently. I sincerely appreciate it and feel blessed that Diane has allowed me to live this long. Three quarters of a century is a significant number … and, she made it so much better by spending half a century of her life to get me here.
Today is May 19th and we’ve been gone from home since Thursday May 9th. Tomorrow I will officially be 3/4 of a century old. Some folks may think I passed that lofty goal long ago simply because of my frail appearance but that’s deceptive. Only my legs and arms are frail. The rest of me is quite robust and beefy, almost because I always eat what I order, or dish up for myself at home, even if I don’t want to. This contributes a great deal to the beefy reference.
Our first stop on this adventure was Wheeler, Oregon where we stayed for three days. Upon arrival I found a likely spot to disconnect Diane’s vehicle from the RV. When I disconnected the flat four connector for lights i discovered that one of the male pins was missing when I apparently turned too sharp and pulled it loose from the RV and dragged it all the way from St. Helens to Scappoose where the propane guy pointed it out to me when we stopped to fill our tank. I didn’t notice the missing pin when I plugged it all back in so we didn’t have a right turn signal showing on the tow vehicle, which really wasn’t a problem because the RV lights are higher than the car.
I didn’t, however, notice the missing safety cables until I went to disconnect them, also. I blame Jeff for not noticing they were missing before we left because he helped me put the RV and car together before leaving home. Yes, it’s surely his fault. I never forget things like that when left to my own devices. Well, maybe I don’t forget most of the time is more accurate.
Considering the necessity for getting replacement parts I deemed it good fortune that we were at Nehalem Bay, a mere 36 nautical miles from the nearest Costco and O’Reilly’s one of which was bound to have the parts I needed. We went the next day and confirmed that belief then had lunch at Norma’s in Seaside. Normally it’s a good place for a good crab Louie, but that wasn’t the case this trip. It was pretty, but not as tasty as I would have liked.
The second day we visited Rockaway Beach which is just a wee bit south of Garibaldi where we visited with a nice lady in the Chamber of Commerce caboose next to the public parking lot. Yes, it’s really a caboose and you can’t miss it. Didn’t get her name but that’s OK. She was very informative and helpful reporting that the Kite Festival they normally have this time of year was cancelled by the city. But, there was one hardy fellow that had numerous huge kites in the back of his Tahoe and was busy anchoring them on the beach and getting them into the air.
When we first walked down to the water only two were flying and we walked under them.
On the way back to the parking lot he’d anchored a third kite but the breeze had dwindled to the point where the originally aloft kits were down and the third was just kind of rolling around on the sand. Still, it was quite magnificent. The owner said it was called a Bol. I don’t know what that means and I’m not going to look it up. This thing is easily 25 feet in diameter.
After having our fill of kites, we continued south to Tillamook where we indulged in lunch at the Cheese Factory. Amazingly, the parking lot was far from full even though the weather was pretty nice and a good time to eat Tillamook ice cream outside. Even so, we chose to partake inside with the other riff raff. We both had Tillamook Cheeseburgers with one order of fries. I think I read somewhere that the beef used to make these hamburgers from retired dairy cows from which they obtained tons of milk to make unknown quantities of cheese over the years. Some may find that a hard fact to deal with, if it were true, but I don’t think it is. Actually, I just made that up but, really, who knows where hamburger comes from.
We arrived at Beverly Beach State Park, the second stop on our trip, on Sunday May 12th. It was a grueling 4 hour drive which I had to do all alone because Diane has yet to drive the RV. One of these days she will, and she’ll do a great job, I know. Just not yet …
On Monday we drove down to Newport and visited old town by the fishing boats. While there we bought a pound of Dungeness crab for a mere $40. That way we could make our own crab Louie’s that tasted really good, which we did, twice. I’m happy to report, so far, that over indulging in crab has not caused my gout to rear its ugly head. I’m always prepared for that but don’t worry about it because I figure the crab is worth the terrible pain and the need to limp for a few days. I have a cane for just that reason.
On the way back to Beverly it started to rain and we returned to a semi-flooded camp site.
On Wednesday, May 15th we did the longest leg of our trip south to Harris Beach State Park in Brookings which is anywhere from 1/8 to 1/2 an inch from the California border depending on which map you look at. Either way, it’s close, and made it possible for us to revisit the Trees of Mystery down that direction. Perhaps you’ve been there and might recognize these guys …
One of the main reasons we made this section of the trip, in addition to seeing such magnificent forests, was to purchase another giant sequoia to plant at home. We had one from our trip two years ago and it was growing well until we killed it. Now we have a replacement and it was good to see all those incredible giant trees. It’s a very humbling thing.
On the trip back to Harris Beach, we stopped in Crescent City for lunch at The Apple Peddler where we stopped with Lydia and Ceiarra two years ago. They welcomed us back with open arms and tried to give us the same booth we had then but we refused and sat in the booth just inside the front door. Perhaps Lydia and C remember this stop. One thing is different there since we visited … they apparently have a machine that cooks chicken like colonel Sanders. Unfortunately, the day we visited, it was broken. They said so.
Had it been working we could have purchased a 100 piece bucket of chicken for about $96. I was so bummed.
After eating we wandered around town and found signs that led us to the water front and a lighthouse that’s been there for many, many years. So, we visited it and Diane convinced her knees that it would be OK to climb all the way to the top, up narrow winding stairs and a short vertical ladder. She did it, enjoyed it and didn’t come down with any debilitating injury because of it. That made me very happy.
Then we went back to Harris Beach to just hang out. It rained most of the time until today, which was beautiful so we went to Harris Beach to watch the water. It was very entertaining.
After that, we took a tour around Brookings to see what’s here. Diane said she did some research and discovered that according to some obscure survey, Harbor, Oregon is the best place to retire to in the state. Harbor, in case you don’t know, is separated from Brookings by the Chetco River. Interesting. We drove out into the wilderness on either side of that river to see what was there and kinda liked both sides.
To end the day, Diane lounged in our private yard at the campground …
Grants Pass is a small village in southern Oregon that we generally pass by without a second look except for one time in 1990 when we actually visited the town on purpose so I could attend the Oregon State Bowling Tournament at which I bowled an astounding single game of 265 (or thereabouts) but failed to win anything. But, we had fun anyway.
Anyway, Grants Pass is where we are for this last night on the road and it’s a bit more than a small village now. There’s actually a lot of history and I’d share it with you if I knew, off hand, what any of it is. If, during the course of this discourse, I stumble across something related to history I’ll be sure to share it.
We left Modesto somewhere around 9:30 this morning and arrived at our chosen abode for the evening at 5:36 on the dot according to our GPS. Between those two significant times we traversed approximately 412 miles of mostly scenic territory that included one significant mountain, Mount Shasta, which we saw from 3 specific angles:
I took photos to show you …
1) driving toward it; 2) driving around it; 3) driving away from it.
It is a very pretty mountain from all three points of view even if it’s raining. If you ever make that trip, which Diane and I have done numerous times over the years, you can catch those views going south or north on I-5, and going east or west on Highway 89. Highway 97 also gives wonderful views for southbound travelers which can be extended by connecting with I-5 south and heading east on Highway 89 just past the village of Mount Shasta which, I’m pretty sure, was named after the mountain, as was Shasta Lake.
Hunger and the need for gas occurred about the same time while passing Chico on Highway 99 before connecting with I-5 at Red Bluff. After getting gas at Costco we found a listing for Home Town Buffet which was right up our alley. When we found the place it turned out to be the Hibachi Grill Buffet which was a little disconcerting considering how reliant we are on the information provided during searches on our phones. Normally the information is accurate. In this case we decided that perhaps it was deemed important that we eat at this Hibachi Buffet. We like oriental food so what the heck. We actually said that to each other … “What the heck.”
A little south of Weed, California we encountered a small accident. Before I go into that I feel compelled to dispel any concerns about this town and the reason it was named Weed. The truth is that I actually don’t know the answer but have to agree with you that encountering a town named Weed conjures up all kinds of possibilities, don’t you think? The accident appeared to have involved only 1 vehicle, a truck, but could have easily caused lots of problems for many other vehicles considering how the truck driver landed. Looking at the photo it’s difficult to understand how the truck wound up as it did without without the driver giving it a lot of thought before engaging in this evolution. You decide …
The first photo shows a skid mark going off under the pickup truck that’s being towed by the motorhome, and the second photo shows some stuttering skid marks possible made by the truck from wheel(s). We’re guessing that the driver lost control, for some reason, and ran his truck off the road and completed some truck acrobatics in order to get his vehicle oriented as you see it. The second photo also shows someone tending to the driver. We were there right after the first policeman arrived on the scene so this was brand new. I cannot imagine what was going through the driver of that RV as this unfolded in front of him. What fun.
That was the only excitement during the trip but there was more excitement waiting for us at the hotel. Something in the plate of things I collected to have stir fried (maybe the raw shrimp) revisited me after we checked in demanding a rapid exit for some unexplained reason. Not being in a position to deny this request, I gladly granted it with a sigh of relief that it chose to complete the tour of my intestines instead of demanding release using the portal it used to gain access.
Now I must rest and worry about which part of my stir fry meal will demand release next. It seems to be an on-going thing.
Temporary Sanity ... 