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It was a beautiful day as I waited for Jim at the Portland International Airport. So beautiful that I waited outside under the covered approach lanes, instead of inside PDX.
In July I got to meet a friend in person that I have known for years online. Just over two years ago, I spotted a profile photo that I loved, on a dating website. It was of a man with red hair and beard, holding the outstretched paw of a statue of a red dancing bear. The man appeared to be dancing with the bear. Jim, who lives in Minnesota, agreed that we are not a good match for dating, but I couldn’t resist writing to him to tell him how much I loved that photo.
We’ve been writing to each other ever since. We’ve shared our dating woes and successes, our complaints about work, photos from our travels, stupid jokes we found online. We do not see eye to eye on everything, but we do recognize in each other that there is a person somewhere in the world with the same drive to be good to others, to have adventures, to poke irreverent fun at sacred things, and challenge the status quo.
Jim was about to take an Alaskan cruise with his family and they would be leaving from Seattle, two hours north of me. So he flew in to Portland early, and I hosted him until it was time to drive him to Seattle. On one day we explored Portland and on the other we went on a road trip.
One of the stunning views of the Pacific Ocean from Highway 101.
We stopped at Tillamook Country Smoker to buy jerky snacks and pepperoni sticks. Then we stopped at the Tillamook Creamery for ice cream.
For the road trip we went directly to the coast, because – duh, he’s from Minnesota. We left my house for Astoria, then turned south along the coast highway. We stopped for overlooks and we stopped for a train! An honest to goodness steam train parked in Rockaway Beach, Oregon. We snapped photos and asked questions and found out it’s the Oregon Coast Scenic Railroad, a tourist train that runs a 5-mile route between there and Garibaldi, the next town south.
A restored steam train in Rockaway Beach, Oregon.
The conductor takes a break.
The grate is real wood.
The other side. (You know you wanted to see the other side.)
Our goal that day was tidepooling, and I got so many photos that I’ll include them in a separate post, but at at the tidepooling location was the eye-catching Yaquina Head lighthouse that we explored when we were done pestering sea creatures in the tide pools. The lighthouse has a white 1000 watt bulb in its first order Fresnel lens, and the light pattern is 2 seconds on, 2 seconds off, 2 seconds on, 14 seconds off.
I thought I was being very clever: catching the sunlight through the Fresnel lens.
The evening weather was clearly more lovely than it was in the morning, making the tower glow.
View of Yaquina Head Lighthouse as we walked from the parking lot.
Look how happy I get when I see a lighthouse!
Upon leaving Yaquina Head we drove due East, inland, until we reached Interstate 5 and turned north, which took us home for the night.
Our day in Portland was mostly occupied with a tour of the Pittock Mansion. I’ve talked about it before. This is a beautiful old mansion on a hill overlooking the city of Portland that has been turned into a museum. I love this place so much that I go there about once a year.
The outside of the Pittock Mansion.
View from the second floor balcony.
Furnishings in the curved hallway.
Henry Pittock was born in 1834 in England but raised in the United States. He and his wife Georgiana came to Portland at a time when many news publications had been started and it was a competitive business. He worked as a typesetter for The Oregonian but the business was not thriving, and he eventually was offered ownership of the paper in lieu of back pay. Pittock kept the paper alive, and then some. Today, The Oregonian is the largest newspaper in Oregon and the oldest newspaper on the West Coast.
The success of the paper allowed Henry and Georgiana to build a remarkable home when they had reached their later years. The couple was able to occupy the residence in 1914, and sadly died four years later. Family lived there until 1958, when it was put up for sale. It sat empty, got damaged in a storm, and then slowly fell into disrepair until the community rallied and brought it back to life in 1965 as part of the Portland Parks and Recreation system.
Great efforts have been made to fill the house with original furnishings when possible, such as this photo of a Mansion party.
When people in the community discover they are in possession of a piece of Pittock furniture, they will sometimes donate it to the museum.
I really love this kitchen made to look as though it’s in use. I would recommend a remodel to open it up though. Talk about a galley kitchen.
I get a kick out of the bathrooms here. They are truly wonderful.
What the heck do you suppose this was for? Sitting in, I guess. My feet would get cold. I think in this curved tower room I would prefer a tub.
The medicine cabinet is stocked with period items.
Look at the crazy old pipes for this tub and shower.
Array of pipes in the shower.
A direct line to every room.
This is the dumbwaiter, and buttons for each of the four levels of the home.
After we were done wandering all over the house into every room we were allowed to enter, and that includes the basement, we then walked around the grounds. The old coach house is now the admission and gift shop, and the groundskeepers home has been restored and is open for touring as well. From this magnificent estate on a hill, we gazed out across the city of Portland at the peak of Mt. Hood rising as she does.
View of the valley from the Pittock Mansion.
I then turned the tables on Jim and enlisted his help with my own project. I needed to rent a car because my Jeep was scheduled for some repairs. I don’t often have a second driver in my home, but Jim’s visit was perfect timing. Before we went to the rental office, however, we had time for one more important stop: VooDoo Doughnuts.
The logo for VooDoo Doughnuts, a Portland original that has now spread across the country. A friend of mine posted this summer from VooDoo Doughnuts at Disneyworld in Florida!
The inside of the shop is so wild that you can stay entertained while you wait in line. There is always a line.
We then picked up a rental car, and each drove one of the vehicles to the repair shop. I dropped of the Jeep and Jim drove us both up to Seattle as it got dark. We found his hotel and said goodbye after two super fun days together.
A magnificent ocean-dweller, on land for a time.
Yesterday I showed scenes of Faerieworlds 2019 so that I could try to bring you with me. Now that you have a sense of the setting, let me introduce you to some of the citizens. If you want to see all of my photos and get a real sense of it all, please visit my Flickr page.
The festival is three days long and I have never attended more than one day. Most people camp on site, and live fully in the realm. Friday used to be a work day for me, and Sunday used to be a half day, so Saturday was always my top choice. This year when I do not have work on Friday and Sunday was a full festival day, I found that I was still only able to make it on Saturday. The fae folk often have new outfits on each day, so imagine how much more there is to see if one is there three days in a row.
In the following photos, you’ll see Toby Froud. He is fantasy royalty, and one of my favourite celebrities. I’ve spoken with him a little in previous years, even included his photo once before. Toby is the son of Brian and Wendy Froud, of whom I am also a huge fan. Brian Froud’s faery art is what made me realize I am in love with faeries. Wendy Froud’s puppets in the movie The Dark Crystal are something I’ll never forget. I spotted him this year when he paused to talk to some folks outside the beer garden, where I was sitting with a pint and chatting with a wizard. I gasped, “Is that Toby Froud?” The wizard turned to look and then confirmed for me, “Yes, it is.” It did occur to me that I was in my element when not only did I not have to explain who Toby Froud was, but the total stranger sitting next to me also recognized Toby Froud on sight. Nerds of the world, Unite!
I had seen something in an article about Toby living in Portland, and when I left the beer garden to go talk to him, I asked him when he lived there. “I’m still there!” he said. “I’ve lived in Portland for ten years!” I am astonished. He’s been here all along, and now I am even more delighted. He said he moved here from England for work, and listed off some of the places he has lent his talents (including Laika), where he worked on the movie the Box Trolls and the TV series The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, and then talked up his next project. If I was a better fan, I would remember what it was. Instead, I was proud of myself just for not passing out.
I am happy to have finally been forced to figure out how to use the Word Press gallery option. It’s a good way to smash entirely too many photos into a single post.
I can never have too many sparkly things.
This post is out of order. I have wonderful stories to tell you about what happened before Faerieworlds 2019. But I do know that faeries, sprites, goblins, pirates, mermaids and all sorts of folk will be combing the Internet looking for photos of themselves this week. For their sake, I’m posting now, though today’s post will be scenes and not characters. (Hey faeries! Go look at my flickr page too!)
I have been attending Faerieworlds since 2007 when it was in Veneta, Oregon. Then it moved to Mt. Pisgah in Eugene. Now it’s up north here in Hillsboro, which is conveniently close. It’s a three-day musical festival with a faery theme. All manner of magical creatures show up, including goblins and elves, dragons, unicorns, and the Green Man, and things that have no name, like a man made of rocks. The best thing about Faerieworlds is the atmosphere, which welcomes everyone, and that means everyone. So if you are in a costume that does not fit the theme, you are appreciated just as much. With that in mind, I pulled out my Renaissance Faire dress that my mother made for me, added green and blue gauzy wings and a flower crown. And lots of sparkly things. Because this faery loves sparkly things.
The setting is in this forest, beside this lake.
There was a pirate ship in the forest, but not on the lake!
Vendors set up tents that fit the theme and are lovely to see and to walk through.
Here Herb Leonhard holds court in his artistic realm.
A copper merchant sells a vessel to a crow.
“Take me home”
Fairy lamps
Tents are arranged into little villages of commerce.
Visitors can browse the tents or spread their wings.
Activities for kids included gigantic bubbles to play with.
Here a red fairy organizes resistance while the Big Dark Fairy Catcher tries to catch little faeries. And Spider-Man.
Even big faeries find time to play.
Who knows what these characters find to joke about together?
Magical beings take some rest and nourishment.
A stage at the bottom of the hill hosts performers all day and into the night.
This is my average level of happiness when I’m in The Realm.
I wanted this first post to give you a sense of what it is like to be there. I will dedicate tomorrow’s post to portraits of characters, and they are simply wonderful.
View of Mt. Jefferson as I drove to Bend.
One of Tara’s summer classes this term was geology field camp. Oregon State University has a great geology program, and Tara has field trips as part of a class multiple times a year. But field camp is when the entire class is on location. This latest class was 5 weeks out in the desert of eastern Oregon, near a tiny town called Mitchell. OSU geology students have been going out to the field camp location for so long that locals in Mitchell refer to them as “dirt nerds.”
The students had only two days off during the entire class. In addition to those two days, once a week they did get what the professor called “free days,” which were not so much free, as a few mandatory field trip days. The professor felt these were days off because the material was not testable, but students were still expected to learn. On one of these field trip days, which would be around the Bend, Oregon area, I got permission from the professor to meet up with the group when they went out to Smith Rock.
It’s a 4 hour drive to Bend from my home. After I arrived I checked in with my AirBnb host and then got some coffee while I waited for Tara to let me know where they were. It was clear immediately that either I was in a very geology-friendly town, or PALATE is a geology-friendly coffee shop. In the bathroom I found this gorgeous giant rock with a note that said, “I thought the Bolivian Rose Quartz needed a friend.” Not sure if what I saw was the rose quartz, or if this rock is the companion. I got my coffee and took it outside to enjoy the sun, and saw that the entire courtyard was surrounded by rocks. There was a lot of obsidian – very common in this highly volcanic part of the US.
In the bathroom of the coffee shop.
Courtyard of the coffee shop.
Tara got in touch with me right away because the group had come into a zone with cell phone service (not at all commonplace out there in the desert). They said they were on a hike and expected to arrive at Smith Rock State Park around 4pm.
With hours to kill, I had time to play in Bend. I used my AllTrails app to find something quick and easy, and soon found myself walking along the Deschutes River South Canyon Trail. I walked first toward the center of town, along a very pretty waterfront walk, clearly a hit with summer tourists. The trail crossed the river and I headed back out of town for an unexpectedly great 3-mile loop back to my car.
Walking the Deschutes River Trail in Bend, Oregon.
poppies
desert blossom
As the trail got closer to the city center, there were murals and outdoor coffee shops and people using all kinds of wheeled contraptions on the paved trail.
I get a kick out of duck butts.
This is the bridge I used to cross the river and head back out of town.
The Deschutes River South Canyon Trail provides educational signboards along the way that taught me about the health of the river, the fish, the flora and fauna in the area, as well as some geological perspective. There are also name plates that identified trees and bushes. It was nice to see a lot of people on the trail enjoying the weather and the outdoors, but people do tend to visit Bend, Oregon for that reason.
Lots of people were in the water on this warm day.
Through the arches I could see a woman fishing on the other side of the river.
The trail is in good condition and hugs the river when possible.
View of the Deschutes River from the bridge at the far end of the loop trail. Clearly, at this point, I had left city boundaries.
Once I found my Jeep again, I drove out to Smith Rock State Park. I arrived before the kids and had time to relax in the shade while I waited. Soon the OSU vans showed up and I joined the group. I listened while the professor took them all to the ledge and pointed out stuff they should notice about the formations surrounding us.
If you’ve ever seen a photo of Smith Rock, you’ll recognize it. It’s a cliff formation surrounded by comparatively level ground, with the Crooked River winding its way through the base of of the cliffs. It’s the biggest, most eye-catching thing around. The tuff and basalt cliffs are famous for being the place where the sport of rock climbing began in the States. Trails for all levels of athletes wrap around the huge rocks on all sides. I’ve been on a lot of them in visits over the years.
The iconic shot of beautiful Smith Rock State Park, looking East.
This is a less commonly photographed angle, looking due North.
Tara spotted this shallow cave and had to climb inside to explore.
I was especially sad not have my good camera when we hiked down to the bottom of the valley, because we spotted this astonishing sight. Can you see it?
Yes, the black speck between the two peaks is exactly what you think it is.
Our visit to the State Park was very brief! The professor had been so excited to show the students so many things all day long that they were way behind schedule. They absolutely had to get back to Mitchell by a certain time, because they had reserved dinners at Tiger Town Brewing Company. When we were released we hurried down to the trails at river level.
Tara and I talked a blue streak because we hadn’t seen each other in weeks, and we barely had time to look around us when it was time to jog up the steep steep hill to get back up to the parked cars. Tara got permission to ride back to Mitchell with me, to our delight. We were able to continue our chatting and catching up during the hour and a half drive out to the desert again.
The students were clearly pleased to be at Tiger Town. I gather that most of the time they eat camp meals prepared on site (Tara said the food is good!), but once in a while there is a splurge and the class gets to eat dinner out. They had to buy their own beers from the seasonal selection of craft brews. I paid for my own meal (and my own beer. I opted for the Danger Melon.) and the great staff at Tiger Town agreed to put my order in with the kids.’ For the next hour I sat outside in the warm evening air and listened to the kids talk about what was on their minds, joke with each other and with their professor. After a while they decided I was ok, and they included me in their conversations. It was a treat to have this peek into Tara’s world that I usually don’t get to see. All too soon it was time to go and I hugged my goodbyes and made my way back to my Airbnb room.
Looking at volcanic peaks in the background, rising over the Crooked River.
The next morning I left early in order to get home early, but I simply was not able to drive past Peter Skene Ogden State Scenic Viewpoint without stopping. From the highway I could see the snowy peaks of volcanoes and wanted to pull the car over so I could get a photo. Early in the morning, I could access the parking lot, but the road to the cliff was still gated. I parked and walked through the dewy grass, fretting a little about the time I was wasting by stopping to look. But oh, it was worth it.
Sadly, the elevation of the Viewpoint was lower than the highway and it was not a good view of the volcanoes. However, there was an incredible view of the canyon.
Mt. Washington, Black Butte, and Three Fingered Jack are barely visible above the trees.
Train bridge over the canyon.
Looking into the rising sun over aptly named Crooked River High Bridge.
It was really time to get back on the road though, and I hustled back to the Jeep and headed north again on Highway 97. I snapped a few shots while driving (bad Crystal habit, do not try this at home), then I settled in and spent the rest of the day driving back to Rainier.
Mt. Jefferson peeks around a scenic bluff beside Highway 97.
I was about to enter the forest and leave the fabulous views behind, so I took one parting shot of Mt. Jefferson and then put the lens cap back on the camera.
Time to state the obvious. Bringing guns to the Oregon state Capitol is a bad idea.
Some Oregonian politicians don’t like the bill being presented that will place a cap on carbon emissions. The Democrats have a majority and it is expected that the bill will pass. Republicans are desperate to block it, and have responded by fleeing (probably to Idaho) so that there won’t be a quorum, and the vote won’t be valid.
Up to this point in the story, I personally support the actions. It’s childish maybe, but non-violent and powerful. Although I am in support of a cap on carbon emissions, I admire clever humans who find a way to work within a system and get their voices heard. Fleeing a vote has been done before, but not very often. It’s drastic, and has definitely hit the news now, which promotes a continued discussion. All good stuff.
The problem is fear.
In Oregon and all across the U.S. are these grass roots militia groups that fancy themselves saviors of American ideals. They’ve bought into the Trump-sponsored belief that there are only two kinds of people: Democrats and Republicans, and you can’t safely have both, and one must oppress the other. These militia people are usually country folk and usually align themselves with the Republican party. They are mostly good people who take their kids out fishing and have the neighbors over for a barbecue, and are quick to offer a hand to a stranger with a broken down truck, and donate to a good cause. But mention politics and they transform.
Politics and power trigger within country folk a deeply held fear of losing a way of life, while they desperately cling to jobs that are part of lagging and changing industries. People on TV talk about systems automation and unmanned transport trucks and using hydroponics to grow crops and making burgers in a petri dish, and this is frightening at a gut level, for folks who don’t know the first thing about all that, and have families to support right now by driving long-haul rigs and feeding the cattle, and repairing the combine, and clocking in at work each day. Those people on TV seem like the same people who talk about saving the environment and advocate for gun control.
So it gets all mushed up together and amplified with Fear Sauce in the common consciousness: “The people who talk about regulating firearms are the people taking away the jobs.” and “The people who want to put a cap on emissions are the people who want to take away our guns.”
“Is that how it’s gonna be? Well you can take away my firearm when you pry it from my cold dead fingers.”
Fear. It’s fear masked by angry words.
What will the future look like to country families who for generations have lived their lives in a way that seems to be disappearing? It is either frightening, or unknown. And not knowing is scary. It is so tempting to pull out a gun when feeling threatened, especially if you already own one. Or six of them. Legally owning multiple guns is not uncommon at all in rural Oregon.
Ok, so Oregon may be on the brink of economy-changing legislation to combat greenhouse gas emissions. Thursday, soon after the Governor said that law enforcement would be sent out to haul them back to their jobs if they left, the Republicans skipped town. One of the Republicans retorted that he is prepared to shoot any police officer that tries it. (Can’t you hear the fear in that comment?) And then militia groups rallied, convinced that they aren’t being listened to once again, and convinced that the only response left to them is firearms. They announced they will move on Oregon’s Capitol (Salem) to protect the Republicans, even though the politicians declined the offer of assistance. This has shut down the statehouse today.
If the militias want to defend American ideals, they need to focus on the primary one: democracy. Our country wants to be founded on the Rule of Law, not oppression.
Talking through difficult decisions is a skill that politicians need, and a skill that the rest of us need too. Being direct when things are uncomfortable is the only way to work through a problem like being afraid of what might happen. Imagine feeling so disenfranchised that you convince yourself that the only way to be heard is to threaten to shoot someone. It’s an awful situation.
I can’t stand conflict, and I will contort myself to avoid talking about scary stuff, but it never resolves the problem. In fact, come on, say it with me because we all know the cliche: avoiding the problem just makes it worse.
You know one way to avoid a problem? Bring a gun.
Guns scare the other people, yes. It shuts them up for a while, yes, so you can yell the stuff you want to yell. But it does not resolve anything! A protest group at the Capitol is going to be filled with fear, and hiding their fear behind angry shouts. And probably, somebody in their agitation is going to make the wrong move, probably by accident, and all hell will break loose. There won’t be any way to protect lives. Right to life doesn’t apply when there is a fearful mob and loaded guns.
Democracy turns out to be scary. Having to talk about decisions that might change your life forever is scary. Putting it all out there on the table means you might have to give something up. But you’ve got to believe in the process of negotiation and consensus. You’re probably going to have to let go of some things you want, no matter how it goes. You have to give up the idea of zero sum. The only way to win is to listen to each other, and to be brave enough to explain why you’re so scared.
If there is a gun in your hand, that will never happen.
Tara sitting beside the campfire. Yep, we had a strong wireless signal in camp!
Tara and I went camping on Sunday for Mother’s Day in Silver Falls State Park. We’ve been camping on Mother’s Day, rain or shine, since the kid was in middle school.
This year it was time to find a new place. Over the years I have had Silver Falls recommended for a hike because of the trails and waterfalls. This state park is over 9000 acres. It’s enormous. There is only one place to camp: a managed campground with paved roads, landscaping, indoor toilets, showers, several camp hosts and an office where you check in and have your problems addressed. There are 103 single-family sites and 3 group sites. I reserved our space online. It’s not at all the kind of place that T and I typically enjoy. We’re more of the kind to pull over in a wide spot in the road, and lug our stuff through the trees till we find a flat spot beside a creek.
So with initial trepidation, it was a relief and a delight to find it lovely. Full of people, yes, but overall a very acceptable large campground. It’s set up so that we could see a few campsites right next to us, but there are too many trees and strategically-placed bushes to get a sense of how big the place is from the inside. We will certainly come back some time.
I have one complaint. Even while our two vehicles fit perfectly well with lots of space left over on the paved pad at our campsite, there is a strict “extra vehicle” charge. And while others arrived in gigantic trucks and huge RVs that could barely fit, Tara’s teeny tiny Chevy Aveo was banished outside the park – outside the whole park! – or else pay the fee. We feigned not having made a decision yet, so the Ranger let us alone on her first trip through. No one showed up again that night and we celebrated that we had gotten away with a free second car. We assumed that we were so well behaved, and the extra car was so tiny, that they would certainly leave us alone. Nope. First thing in the morning they got us! I paid the fee.
South Fork of Silver Creek was near our campsite.
This covered walking bridge goes over the South Fork of Silver Creek to the cabins you can rent if you didn’t bring your own home for the night.
We found one tent site that allows access to the river so next time we will try to reserve this one.
We had a laid-back evening, exploring the campground a little. There are trails of many lengths that begin from the campground itself, from a one-mile nature trail crossing two small creeks, to a 7.2 mile loop past 10 waterfalls. It was perfect. That evening we walked to a wooden covered bridge over a walking path across the Silver Creek South Fork. We explored nearby campsites to find the best one for next time, and then we went walking on the nature trail.
We roasted sausages by the fire and talked and talked. Man, I love that kid.
We walked this nature trail around the campground.
We both thought these looked like prehistoric dinosaur plants! They are huge, and called American Skunk Cabbage, an invasive species in the UK.
Our plan was to get up early and start hiking first thing in the morning and do the 7.2 mile trail and hit all those waterfalls! We got up nice and early, but the weather had changed in the night, and it was cold. C-c-c-cold. So we moved slowly. I got the last of the sausages frying on my little stove, dropped in four eggs, and when it was close to done, topped up the scramble with some white cheddar. Yum! We made tea and held our cups in our hands to warm them, but it wasn’t enough. We finally got out of there, but it was with creaky, frozen joints.
On the map I saw there was a café! I mean, this place, seriously. So we walked from the campground almost a mile to the place where the café was supposed to be, which was on the way to the falls anyway. There is an adjacent lodge that holds a restaurant and I would have been happy for either, to go indoors, get a hot coffee and thaw out. The sign on the door said “closed Mondays.”
Building that hosts the restaurant and the cafe. Just not on Mondays.
The doors were open and we went in seeking coffee just in case, but they were having a flower show. We took some time to learn the local native flowers, all clearly having been harvested that morning from the forest. It was a great educational idea!
Out on the wide surrounding porch of the place, we sat for a bit because Tara needed to get a rock out of their boot. On inspection, it was not a rock, but a nail, newly erupted through the bottom of the boot. It had pushed up from the sole into the boot and had torn a hole in Tara’s sock. We could not begin a hike like this.
“I’ll be fine,” Tara insisted, not wanting to go back.
“You’ll be sorry, and you’ll be miserable, if you don’t protect your foot before this hike,” I said. Twenty years of hiking knocked all the tough-guy out of me. If there’s something wrong with your boots, it needs to be addressed immediately.
We hiked the mile back to camp. Tara put on two layers of socks and put a moleskin patch where the nail head is pushing up into the shoe. We hiked another mile back to where we had last left off.
We hit the trail in earnest and in about 100 yards we were met with the grandeur of the first jaw-dropping waterfall.
A lookout point above South Falls provides a view to the valley below.
Panoramic View of Tara looking down over the top of South Falls.
As the trail brought us nearer, the falls only became more and more beautiful.
Me
The hiking trail goes behind South Falls.
Standing behind South Falls.
I had my geologist Tara along with me on this hike, which added a fun dimension. Tara pointed out lava rock when I wasn’t expecting it, and of course the ever-present basalt columns that make these astonishing waterfalls possible. Tara also talked about the common rock types in Oregon, because of the millennia of volcanic eruptions, and described their favourite rock type: schist. Tara likes schist because other kinds of rock come together to make a new rock, called schist. I asked if that’s what geologists yell as an exclamation. “Schist!” You’ve heard of Dad Jokes, well, I do Mom jokes.
The next waterfall on the journey was Lower South Falls.
Approaching Lower South Falls.
The trail goes behind Lower South Falls too.
After our slow start due to the cold and the nail in Tara’s shoe, we were out of time and couldn’t make the whole waterfall trip. We will save it for another day. For the return trip, we went uphill and zig zagged up the slopes and returned along the ridgeline for a wholly different kind of look at the forest.
Larkspur grew in the cooler, wetter areas.
We found this big field of Camas up in the drier, warmer parts of the forest.
To our delight, late season Trillium were still blooming.
We then made the trip back to our campground and packed up the tent which had dried out by now. We were no longer freezing, and that made packing up easier. After big smooshy hugs, we said goodbye. Tara left south to go back to their college town of Corvallis, and I left to head north to home in Rainier.
Fields of tulips at the Wooden Shoe Tulip Farm in Woodburn, Oregon.
Tulips as soul food, I mean. We didn’t actually eat any of them.
This week started out on a down note. It’s getting a little warmer, but it was raining day after day and even though I did go do some yardwork in the rain, it’s just not inspiring to pull weeds and rake in the rain. Then I lost one of my Hussies on Monday, probably to a raccoon. I found her dead inside the chicken house and had to dispose of her body.
Tara said they would be coming to visit me on their one day off from work. I found out later that they were hoping to cheer me up. Awww. What a good kid.
Tara showed up late Tuesday night, after closing up at work where they live in Corvallis. We hugged and then told each other good night. Wednesday morning the sun came out! Tara requested Mom’s Best Baking Powder Biscuits in the World, and while we ate we decided to go to the tulip farm. I haven’t been there for years. Tara and their friends have tried multiple times in the last couple years, and keep showing up at the farm when it’s past tulip season or too early for tulips. In fact, Tara has already been there this year, but no tulips had bloomed yet.
Tara crouches carefully in a bare patch of dirt to get a close up photo without crushing any of the flowers.
At the top left, you can see a raised platform built for visitors to get a better look at the fields.
This is the view from the raised platform.
I needed the sunshine and bright colours to lighten my mood, and Tara needed to enjoy a rare day off from work and school, to simply play for awhile and not be responsible.
Our timing was good because it’s still within the main dates of the Wooden Shoe Tulip Farm‘s 35th annual Tulip Festival. Each year the tulips are grown in a different portion of the farm, to ensure soil health. Since Tara had recently visited, they knew exactly where to go to find the tulips this year. In minutes of arrival, we were surrounded by tulips and eating them up.
My camera was hungry for all the colour too, and gulped it up out of proportion. I am a camera novice, so I don’t know what happened, but the colours in some of my photos are so saturated I’m afraid they’re going to start dripping.
So much colour. No editing here….just a lens gulping up colour.
A faded Mt. Hood in the distance behind the Hazelnut trees.
Tara and I had a lot of fun wandering through the fields of tulips and talking. We have a great relationship and even though we just spent a week together in Ireland, we already had lots of things to talk about again. I feel so fortunate to have this great kid who trusts me and shares with me. I asked T to take photos of me in the tulips because I realized in a whole week in Ireland, I had not asked them to take any photos of me. I’m the one always carrying the camera, so I need to remember to ask others to take my picture.
Me, warm enough to take off my sweater. Yay for sun!
Tara said, “Take off your sunglasses!”
Each field demonstrates tulips that are on sale from the farm’s flower catalog. Here is a popular choice for buyers: mixed tulip bulbs in a single bag.
Acres of blooming tulips.
I liked how these were all leaning toward the sun.
There is no picking area that I am aware of at this farm. The company sells bulbs from a catalog. Many people wander the fields in order to choose what to buy from the catalog.
At the back of the fields is an orchard of Hazelnut trees, one of Oregon’s most famous exports. It’s not yet hazelnut season, but the trees offer a nice backdrop to the tulips.
Hazelnut orchard at the back of the farm.
A tractor prepares a field nearby.
We were allowed to stand and look, but not to enter the orchard.
Also at the back of the fields, a lone man sat monitoring a couple of kites flying. He had a grey tiger shaped kite, and a giant purple shark kite. Tara said it looked like an animated character from a children’s movie, I can’t remember which one. I thought it looked ridiculous, and was irritated that I had to crop out an enormous purple cartoon whale shark from my photos.
….but I took one photo of it to show you what I mean.
The animated kite fit with the rest of the place though, which is entirely too corny for my taste. I refused to take any photos of the fake windmill, fake wooden shoe workshops, and all the carnival tents selling elephant ears and cotton candy. The place is set up mostly for kid entertainment, with rides and playgrounds and stuff that has nothing to do with tulips. I did like the game where kids place little rubber duckies into metal troughs and then rapidly pump water from old timey well pumps to flush the duckies to the other end of the trough and race each other. I do recall that when Tara was in middle school, we spent a lot more time in the carnival section though….so I should stop being so judgy.
The view as we headed back to the carnival section to find some food and wine.
One of the photos I took was of a bright red tulip shining her best self in a field of undisciplined yellow tulips bending every which way. I made a meme out of it.
View of Netarts Bay from the patio of our room at Terimore Motel. The Pacific Ocean is on the horizon.
The morning dawned splendidly in Netarts, Oregon, just west of Tillamook and right on the shores of Netarts Bay.
There was a notice posted in the room I had not seen the night before, asking people – admonishing people – not to touch baby seals. The flyer says that mother Harbor Seals stash their pups on the beach while they are out hunting, and if a person or a dog messes with the pup, the mother will not take care of it after that. The sign begs in all caps PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH OR MOVE A SEAL PUP. DO NOT LET YOUR DOG TOUCH A SEAL PUP! Sounds like this is a problem. So sad if it is.
We took the scenic route coming home and kept right on the coastline for a while, rather than return to Highway 101. At multiple beaches we saw signs posted that explain the catch limits for shellfish and marine invertebrates. It would be fun to live close enough to the beach to simply pop out there at low tide and fill a bucket with mussels or clams. By lunchtime we reached Pacific City, with its fabulous beach and eye-catching Haystack Rock and Cape Kiwanda. Interestingly, Oregon has a collection of rocks named Haystack Rock, including multiple sea rocks. This one is 327 feet high and is the fourth highest sea stack in the world.
A helicopter flies over Haystack Rock. Well, one of the Haystack Rocks.
Pacific City beach, looking toward Cape Kiwanda.
We stood awhile on the beach and gazed at the scene. Surfers were paddling out to try and catch a perfect wave. People built sand castles and threw frisbees for dogs and children launched kites. A stream of people climbed Cape Kiwanda’s sandy slopes to get to the top.
One great choice for a meal and a drink is the Pelican Brewery, because the deck with outside seating rests directly on the sand and the views are extraordinary. But it was crawling with people. We ate instead at Headlands Lodge. The Meridian restaurant has large open windows overlooking the beach. While we waited for our food, the air & sunshine coming in the window was warm and we contentedly watched surfers and parkers viciously vying for a parking space on the sandy lot. The parkers turned out to be the more interesting group.
Our corner table at Meridian, with open-air windows and the busy beach below.
Heading south we reached Lincoln City, and Will humored me while I ran into the local McMenamins to get a passport stamp. I’ve only just learned about this program, and found it too much fun to resist. McMenamins is a restaurant chain that began here in Portland. Frequently they are found in rennovated historic buildings, and the atmosphere inside a McMenamins is always creative and humorous. They have great food with a limited menu, because they are all about their craft beers, wines, and ciders. I am a fan of McMenamins and have been to many of them (I think there are currently 52 and have spread all across Oregon and into Washington), so the passport program sounded fun. Each time I visit a new place, I get a stamp. When a page is filled with stamps, I get a free thing, like a basket of fries, a pint, or a T-shirt. The free stuff is not as appealing to me as the game of getting all the stamps.
McMenamins passport, featuring the logo for Hammerhead Pale Ale.
Stamps for Kalama Harbor Lodge. Only one more stamp to go!
My stop at the Lincoln City McMenamins took a few minutes because some places make you earn the stamp and this was one of them. There is a riddle at the bar counter, that you must solve by finding the matching artwork inside the restaurant. Take a photo or a selfie with the art, then go back to the bar counter. If you got it right, you get your stamp!
We pulled over at Siletz Bay to soak up another view of the sea on a gorgeous day. We read an information sign about the 50-foot tsunami that crashed over this shore in the year 1700 and decimated everything there, including the local indigenous tribal villages. The sign said “Native peoples probably had little idea about the relationship between earthquakes and tsunamis…” There can’t be significant evidence to support this claim, and I am aware of evidence that proves otherwise; that native people have been aware of that very relationship since before written history, and passed on the knowledge through storytelling. I am sure that many Native people died in the 1700 tsunami, just as I am aware tsunamis kill many people in the 21st century. So much for advanced technology. I am irritated at assumptions that place the speaker in a position of power and knowledge merely because they don’t understand the group being discussed.
We went as far south as Newport, then turned east toward Corvallis, where we stopped to visit Tara and Brynnen and the OSU campus, as I mentioned in an earlier post. After spending the remainder of the day with my kiddo, we went on home back to Rainier.
A section of our beautiful Oregon coastline.
One thing I love about the Oregon Coast scenery is the frequency of rock outcroppings, often with trees on top. At this spot was an information sign about the 50-foot tsunami of 1700.
A section of our beautiful Oregon coastline.
It was time to head down the coast. Will had seen a lot of the area where I live, but I wanted to show him the unique coastlines we have on the Pacific that are unlike Atlantic coastlines.
I also wanted to introduce him to timberland. I grew up here in a U.S. Forest Service family, always close to vast areas of timberland, managed either by the government or private logging companies. So, rather than head west, then drop south along the coast to Tillamook, Will and I cut directly over the top of the Coast Range, and drove southwest to Tillamook. If you ever watched the reality TV show “Ax Men,” one of the crews worked here. (btw, any real logger will tell you the show was short on reality) It was a fun, narrow, windy road through remote hills covered in trees, and we passed many sections of recently harvested timber. In this area the method used is clearcutting, where every tree, sapling, and shrub is leveled and all that’s left on the land are stumps and sawdust. Evidence of what happens next came in the form of whole hillsides covered in young trees all the same age, with signs by the road telling what year they were planted. Trees are a sustainable resource, and every clearcut is followed by planting. But the newly harvested areas are hard to look at, and Will reacted with predictable emotion and distaste.
AIR MUSEUM painted on the side of the enormous Hangar B outside of Tillamook, OR. (Note the clearcut areas on the hills, showing patches of snow where there are no trees)
My Jeep parked at the turn-off for the museum, beneath a Douglas A4-B Skyhawk.
Hangar B is so enormous it dwarfs the Mini-Guppy.
We reached the coast town of Tillamook and headed first for the Air Museum in a gigantic airship hangar built in 1942. The history of the construction of Hangar B is fascinating, and it’s remarkable to stand inside that vast building with no internal structural supports. The museum includes a theatre that constantly played a short documentary of the building’s history in WWII, and also lots of donated items from wartime, including uniforms, instruction manuals, insignia, weapons, and all the usual things you find in a war museum. There are a few historical fire engines on one end, and the interior contains all kinds of aircraft that you can walk right up to.
There is a collection of flight simulators that we climbed into of course! And Will’s eyes glazed over in delight when we found a whole room filled with one man’s entire model collection representing practically every WWII battle field you can imagine. Will’s reaction was so awesome I wrote it down immediately on my phone so I would remember: “This is a little kid’s dream. I want to play with everything. I could stay here all day!”
Aeorospacelines Mini-Guppy. Look carefully and find the teeny tiny window where the pilots sit. That helps you imagine how enormous this plane is.
Fisher Flying Products British Tiger Moth
Ling-Temco-Vought A-7 Corsair ll
WWII Diorama Exhibit – model creations of every imagineable theatre and battle – a little kid’s dream.
My first time in the cockpit of an A-7E Corsair
My own view from inside there. All those gauges!
After the museum we ate an early supper at Old Oregon Smokehouse. This place had good reviews despite looking sketchy from the outside. We both had fish and chips of cod, halibut, salmon, and rockfish that were good, better than the famous Bowpicker in Astoria. Very generous portions and the chips (fries) are great. The seafood was super fresh and that makes all the difference.
Speaking of a little kid’s dream, our next stop was in search of ice cream! Directly across the street from Old Oregon Smokehouse is the Tillamook Creamery that offers my favourite cheese west of Vermont, and my favourite ice cream of all. Inside you can do a self-guided tour of cheese operations, sample their to-die-for cheddars, and shop at the restaurant or gift shop. We did the tour, ate samples, then got in line for ice cream. I ordered one scoop of Blood Orange Cream, and one scoop of Pendleton Whiskey and Maple. Each one was amazing. Will got Chocolately Chip Cookie Dough.
Assembly line where workers are getting 40-lb loaves of cheese ready for cold storage.
Cooler in the gift shop was drool-worthy.
Since it was March, I had not made any reservations for the night, thinking the season would mean we would have every hotel to ourselves. However, it was a gorgeous, warm, sunny weekend and guess what? Most of the hotels were booked. We took a short drive out of town to the seashore on a chance that Terimore Motel could accommodate us. They could! As we checked in, the owner told us we were just in time for the sunset, and it was going to be a good one. “I’ve seen many sunsets,” he said, “So I know.”
He was right. Will and I dumped our stuff in the room and immediately went down to the beach. Though the view from the room was incredible, I felt a need to be out there in the middle of it.
Sunset from our room.
Looking up at the Terimore Motel before we walked down the stairs to the beach.
From the trail down to the beach.
Kids playing at Star Wars on the sand with their light sabers.
Homes on the beach reflect orange light. PSA: Never, never, never buy a house situated as these are. Ocean storms, landslides, and tsunamis will eventually destroy the property. And uhh, “foundation built upon the sand,” anyone?
Sea bird just before it got nervous and flew away.
Margaret and I went to Ashland for Shakespeare as I wrote about earlier, but also to explore the local area a little bit. Sunday we went to Wildlife Safari, that I covered in my last blog post.
Wolf Creek Tavern in southern Oregon
Built in 1883 and continuously operating since then.
After Wildlife Safari, we stopped at The Historic Wolf Creek Inn for a cocktail. This stop was a delight because it’s in the middle of nowhere and I didn’t know anything about it other than having seen the highway signs for it for many years as I passed through on I-5. Henry Smith built his third hotel to be “the upscale one” along the stagecoach route. Built in 1883, Wolf Creek Inn is the oldest continuously operated hotel in the Pacific Northwest.
Famous guests include Clark Gable and Carol Lombard, and the bed they used is still in use today in the largest guest room. Mr. Gable liked to fish in the nearby Rogue River. The most famous guest was Jack London, whose room is considered so special it can’t be touched, and everything is maintained today as it was for Mr. London when he occupied it.
The Women’s Parlour
Jack London’s Room. Complete with Jack London’s chamber pot.
Our next stop was to find a covered bridge. Oregon has many, and I never tire of seeing them.
Grave Creek Bridge
Touring Wildlife Safari, then Wolf Creek Inn, then a covered bridge, was enough adventure for Sunday, and we dropped to sleep happy at our hotel in Ashland.
Monday morning we left to try to find a trail to the top of Table Rock. This is a volcanic mesa with a wide flat top that is easily seen from I-5. We found trail descriptions for Upper Table Rock and Lower Table Rock trails and made a wild guess that the one we wanted was “upper,” since we didn’t know there was another one, so the other one must be “lower.” We guessed wrong. But the trail was wonderful.
An interpretive sign at the beginning of the trail explains that these mesas were formed as the result of lava flow from a volcano 7 million years ago. Most of the flow eroded away, but the parts that remain are eye-catching plateau formations today. A website I found later claims that the volcanic flow was 9.6 million years ago. The website also explains that the Takelma Indians lived there when the area became overrun by miners and settlers in the gold rush. The Indians fortified themselves on Upper Table Rock and then launched an attack in 1853 to reclaim their lands. Apparently a reservation was assigned to them that included the Table Rocks area. (And there the website narrative ends…leading me to wonder if the Indians ever got to live there in peace, and at what point was the reservation dissolved, since there isn’t one there right now. And frustrated that anyone can say, “The Indians were given some land,” and can pretend with a straight face that it’s the end of the story. Ok, sorry. End of rant.) *
Up close look at the anthracite formations at the beginning of the trail.
Fabulous red trunks of madrone trees that are common along the Oregon coast.
The trail was super short and easy, but Margaret and I extended our time there by delighting in the beauty of the views and the lovely forest of black oaks and madrone.
At the top we headed directly for the edge of the mesa and were impressed with views of the Rogue River Valley.
Margaret looking toward Medford, Oregon.
We chatted with other hikers up there as well.
In the distance I spotted Lower Table Rock, the one I’ve seen a hundred times from the Interstate.
Canyon in the U-shaped mesa.
The top of Upper Table Rock is not as flat as I assumed it would be. As an unrepentant volcano-lover, I was excited to see these formations.
After our hike we went into the darling town of Jacksonville to wander shops and antique stores and enjoy the lovely weather. Next we went to the Rogue Creamery Cheese Shop and sampled some too-die-for blue cheeses. I confess, I purchased a couple pounds of it. Across from there is Lilliebelle Farms Handmade Chocolates, where we also sampled. I was tempted by the chili chocolates, but ended up purchasing the lavender sea salt caramels.
On Tuesday we decided to find another hike before our matinee show. This time we chose what looked like a loop, titled Toothpick Trail to Catwalk Trail Loop in our hiking app. It was a forest trail with a single view of something other than forest, very little interesting nature, and in the end, no loop. Turns out, there is a road the trail eventually intersects with, and you can return down the road, making a loop. Not what we had in mind.
The one and only viewpoint from Toothpick Trail was indeed lovely.
Intrepid hikers that we are, we found things of interest anyway, to keep our spirits up. As with the hike the day before, this trail was super short and easy, so once we realized it connected to other trails, we just kept going. There is a maze of trails on top of the ridge, and I was tickled to find their names all Alice In Wonderland themed, such as Caterpillar, Lewis, Jabberwocky and Bandersnatch.
These trails are popularized by mountain bikes. We were passed by multiple people on bikes, all of them polite and careful not to run us down. There were plastic ribbons strung between trees all over the place to keep the bikes on the best paths, lots and lots of warning signs and informational signs for the bikers. Probably helpful for them, but really ugly for us. We were intrigued by the trails built with humps and banked corners for bikes. This is trail construction we had not seen before.
Humps and banks built for mountain bikers (I cropped the photo to remove all the plastic tape strung between trees).
Trail marker for mountain bikers.
The other amusement we found on the trail was when we came across some experienced older male hikers. M and I must have looked dubious in our light, girly tourist clothing, carrying no pack whatsoever and a single water bottle between us. Makeup, jewelry… you get it. No one else knows that M and I both have over twenty years of backpacking experience. The reason we showed up looking completely unprepared for the forest is because we are *so* experienced that this truly was like going for a walk for us. None of these trails was more than a mile from a road, we were merely trying to kill time waiting for our Manahatta matinee down the hill in Ashland. We weren’t winded in the least, and did not consider the trails a challenging hike.
So. We spot some other hikers and we beeline for them, because we’re hoping to get some insider knowledge on how to make an actual loop out of all this hilltop wandering we’ve been doing. There are three men, 50-60 ish, in full Outdoor Gear, hiking poles, day packs, water bladders, specialty footgear, protctive hats – all of it. They tell us they are locals and hike up there all the time. They are immediately concerned for us, considering that our first question was “Is there a trail over on this side of the mountain that will link us back to Toothpick Trail?” which they interpret as us saying, “We don’t know where we are.” They ask us if we’re hungry, can they share their water with us, are we lost, are we ok? Oh good grief. I don’t think they ever really understood what we were doing up there. We kept saying we were fine, we weren’t worried or lost, we were only trying to make a more interesting hike. They assured us that there was no link back to Toothpick Trail and our best bet would be to return the way we came. “Can you find your way back?” they asked. We managed not to roll our eyes and waved goodbye and thanks. I hope none of them lost any sleep worrying that there would be two emaciated and terrified women trapped on the hill that night. I imagine that must happen around here, with the bazillion tourists who show up for plays like we did.
We got to the play on time and now the timeline goes back to my original post of this trip.
* Quick research on Wikipedia indicates that the Table Rock Reservation lasted a whopping three years. After which, fighting broke out again. Some Indians were marched Trail-of-Tears-like, on foot 300 miles to another reservation; others were put onto ships and moved, all of them that lived eventually ending up on reservations south of Portland.
