Photos of Oregon

There were three reasons for my trip out to the Oregon coast. One was to show George the beautiful lush, green State that is full of rivers and miles of oceanfront. The other two reasons were for me to reconnect with one of my mom's siblings and meet another for the very first time.

Aunt Bonnie (Osborne) Weyrick and me

On Thursday, I finally got the chance to meet my mom's half-sister, Bonnie, and we hit it off right from the start. Although we've only been communicating via Facebook for the last couple of years, a feeling of relaxed familiarity was immediately evident. We met for lunch and a tour around town and on Sunday I attended the church where she and her husband, Ed, serve as Pentecostal Ministers. This coming Sunday will be their last sermon as they are retiring after 55 years of ministering.

Their work in the church has taken them as far as Nairobi, Kenya where they preached and taught school. Both learned Swahili, which was a monumental task, in and of itself and my cousin, Aleta, was even born in Nairobi. 

 

Bonnie and Ed

The outside of Grace Fellowship Church

It was nice to be able to hear my aunt play songs on the piano that she has written, while the small congregation sang along. Her sermon was about "Remnants." She explained how a small piece of cloth, a remnant, was so vital and important. Her example was a remnant of cloth that had been used in a beautifully, hand-crafted quilt. Without that remnant, the quilt would have lacked a certain color and pattern that made it special. She went on to explain that we are all remnants, but within our faith and family, we become needed, useful, necessary and beautiful.

I've been learning a lot about my aunt. For one, Bonnie is left-handed, like my mother and me, she enjoys baking like my mom did, and she has a love for writing, as do I. We both seem to to have a deep need to look for those little connections and similarities.

I did feel a bit like a remnant when I arrived in Oregon, but will leave feeling necessary to a group of relatives I had never met or known before. I am finally a small piece of a quilt made up of my mother's relatives. As fortunate as I was to know the warmth and comfort from my father's family, the loss of my mom caused a cavernous "emptiness" for so many years and this visit has helped to fill a tiny portion of that void.

On Thursday, we plan to get together for a mini family reunion, pre-retirement and farewell at Bonnie and Ed's home. Two of Bonnie's daughters will be there with their children and spouses. I'll be bringing over the fixin's for a homemade Italian meal of meatballs and "gravy" and  a couple of local fruit pies for dessert, and best of all, I'll get to meet more pieces of the quilt.

A get-together with my Uncle Tom looks like it will not come to fruition. His wife, Joyce was hospitalized about two hours away. She was just released today, so with time ticking down, it doesn't look like we will have the opportunity to see one another, which is disappointing, but I'm happy to know she's doing better.

Deep thought for the day:  

Miriam-Webster's Definition of Remnant:

1. 1 a :  a usually small part, member, or trace remaining   b :  a small surviving group —often used in plural
   
   
    I am a remnant....I'm a small part and a remaining trace. I am a remnant...I'm a small member of a small surviving group. ~ vc

A few miscellaneous photos from our last few days.

Coming up on the Columbia River Gorge Area

The Columbia River near Portland

George put a STICKER on the Jeep!

Checking to see if he can drive to the beach from this access point.

Letting some air out of the tires for better "sand" traction.

Traveling down the Oregon Dunes.

Most of our stay on the coast was in Tsunami Evacuation Zones. I loved seeing this sign.

The only Red and White flashing beacon on the Oregon Coast.

The Umpqua Lighthouse

Sunset over the Pacific (in the distance)

A seagull on a dock on the Umpqua River

Someone thought they were invited to dinner.

A "gang" of elk...I Googled it. It's not called a herd, it's called a gang.

One of the rare days when George wore shorts and a t-shirt.

Rollin', rollin,' rollin. Keep those doggies rollin, RAWHIDE!!!!

Oceanside RV Resort was a lovely campground located right on the ocean in Charleston, OR. The problems we encountered there were no fault of the park, but rather weather-related. We encountered heavy, misty fog, a fog horn blowing three bursts every two minutes from dusk until dawn and very damp and chilly weather. George needed to dig out the "Winter Storage Bin" so we could get some long pants and sweatshirts. Big black crows kept landing on the roof of Little Miss to dine on their "Catch of the Day." George climbed up to take a look and found the evidence of crab leg shells that had been left behind. The "tips" they left for us were not  the type we wanted.

The walkway to the ocean, lined with evergreen bushes.

This is after the fog lifted!

The water was very cold.

Braving the ocean breeze that was bitter.

Getting ready to head back to Little Miss where the fireplace and heat were cranking.

Walks along the ocean were a bit dreary and wind-swept, but I did enjoy it in a forlorn sort of way. I felt a sense of "smallness" amid the never ending waves that kept rolling upon the shore. The power of the ocean is evident and it seems to be even more aggressive than the Atlantic.

Lack of sleep as a result of the fog horn made us lazy, but we couldn't rest for long, because we needed to seek out a veterinarian for Miss Lucy.

After some research and conducting a "drive-by," we decided to take her to the better looking of the two places that were highly rated. Turns out that Lucy somehow developed a bacterial skin infection that she aggravated with scratching. We also felt she was very stressed-out over the fog horn, because she would not relax the whole first night here, so the vet prescribed a mild sedative to ease her "fog horn anxiety."

Ocean Boulevard Veterinary Hospital

So, $160 later, we return home with a travel-weary, fog horn-freaked out kitty. I decided to medicate her before the horn stated blowing to give it time to take effect and this "mild" sedative seemed to create a "moderate"  reaction. Poor Lucy was wobbling around with heavy-lidded eyes, looking like one who has smoked too much cannabis (the popular home-grown treat in these parts).

The sun set and we waited anxiously to see how she would react to the fog horn....and, as fate would have it, no horn blew in the dense fog-filled bay that night. The guilt I felt, and still feel, for unnecessarily drugging my little fur baby will take a some time to fade. She did express her displeasure by leaving a little present on the bathroom floor - her classic sign for either, "we're even," or "I forgive you."

Due to the heavy fog and chilly temps in Coos Bay, we decided to relocate for the next four days to Winchester Bay, which is about 25 miles up the coast. We were lucky to find last-minute availability at a really nice RV resort while driving around looking for a place to do some off-roading in our Wrangler.  Lucy was happy that it was only a short ride this time. 

Photos and video from our adventures while at Winchester Bay RV Resort and Marina will follow, along with photos from my first visit with my Aunt Bonnie and her husband, Ed. 

Deep thought for the day:   “What we do see depends mainly on what we look for. ... In the same field the farmer will notice the crop, the geologists the fossils, botanists the flowers, artists the colouring, sportmen the cover for the game. Though we may all look at the same things, it does not all follow that we should see them.”  ~  Sir John Lubbock, 1834-1913   

At last, beautiful Oregon

After being on the road for 20 days, we have finally reached our furthest point west, the Oregon coast. This destination was borne from fond memories, curiosities, and family - the source of the memories and curiosities. 

I have visited the Oregon coast twice in my life, prior to this visit. The first time, I was just six months old when my mother brought my brother, aged 3, and I cross-country by train to visit her mom - our grandmother. My memories off that trip are just of faded black and white photographs and a snippet of Super-8 movie film showing my grandmother holding me on a hill with the ocean crashing against the rocky shore in the background. 

My second trip to this coast was a gift from my grandmother when I turned 16. It turned out to be an amazing gift that included my first time on an airplane, and a DC-10, no less!  I flew "stand-by" which is not the best method of flying such a distance at such an age. Lucky for me, I traversed the US at a time when life was safer, because when I look back, I can't believe how young and naïve I was to have done it alone. I had a connecting flight and needed to change planes in Chicago's O'Hare Airport. I remember running from one end of the "wagon-wheel" shaped airport to the other, in search of my departure gate, wondering how my luggage was going to make it if I could barely do so. 

Interior of the DC-10 as I remember it.

At the end of a long day of travel, my plane finally landed in Portland and I remember meeting my grandmother - for only the second time in my whole life.  The ride to her home seemed endless, and the view of Highway 101, as seen from the back seat of her Cadillac, burned into the deepest recesses of my mind.

The Summer of '72 was a big movie and I could have written the screenplay for my own Summer of '72 that has played over and over in my head for all these years. My memories are mostly of camping in a pop-up camper with my Uncle Tom and his family. I remember tubing on the river, fly fishing along the Rogue River and catching a fish, nights spent around a fire, Redwood trees, pit toilets, cold showers and washing my clothes on a rock in the river. 

My first time camping - with cousins, Tommy and Vanessa

Me aged 16 and Vanessa, about 8?

Aunt Joyce with Vanessa and little Tommy

Hwy. 101 - Coastal Oregon - taken back in 1972 at a pull-off. 

Believe this is the Rogue River we went tubing on.

My Uncle Tom and family

Me, Vanessa and that Caddy.

I also have fond memories of my grandmother fixing me fruit cobbler for breakfast every morning made from the berries I picked out of her back yard. I remember driving her Cadillac and going on a date with the "bag boy" from the local supermarket, McKay's??? We were supposed to go to a drive-in movie, but it got "fogged out." I had never heard of something like that before, and remember laughing about the term.

Example of a Shrimp Boat

At the crack of dawn one day, I sailed out into the Pacific, beyond the sight of land, in a shrimp boat, and worked alongside the other men on deck when the nets were hauled up into the boat. Certain fish needed to be thrown back overboard, because a shrimp boat could only bring back shrimp. I was taught how to grab a large fish by its tail, with two hands, and then swing it up and over the side of the boat. The funniest thing was looking down at all the shrimp and not recognizing them. I had never seen a shrimp with its head before.

It was definitely a different type of life, it was amazing and made you believe in God – especially upon a huge ocean with no land in sight on board a little shrimp boat.

Mostly, I remember how I hated for that summer to end. In retrospect, it was my last summer before becoming a diabetic, so perhaps that helps to make it the favorite summer of my life, but I still think it's that camping thing.

Now, at 61, I find myself back where my love for camping was first ignited. I'm definitely not camping the way I did way back in 1972, but do love the way I feel when on the road to a new destination. The research, the discovery, the oddities and the familiar (Walmart) are all exciting discoveries just down the road a piece and each location is a new adventure.

So, we have fast-forwarded to 2016 and to the journey my husband and I have been on these last few weeks.  As you enter Oregon from Idaho, tan colored mountain ranges slowly turn greener along curving roads that were at one time the original Oregon Trail. It is mind boggling to imagine the pioneers traversing this land. At times, it felt like we were on another planet. I can't imagine what went through the minds of those who braved the journey westward - trying to imagine what could lie beyond the next huge mountain.  You can’t help but fall in love with this state. It is full of lush, green, rolling mountains, forests and rivers filled with fish! There is some activity to fill your days any time of the year.

 Our first night in Oregon was spent at Grande Hot Springs Resort, in La Grande. It was located at the bottom of a large hill and off a dirt road. A ground fire was burning somewhere off in the distance – a big threat during the hot, dry months of July and August.

The second night found us at Portland/Fairview RV Park in Fairview. This was a lovely little park, located deep within the Columbia River Gorge area. I wished we had booked a few extra days in this location, because there was so much to see and do that one night was only a tease.

 

The third night, we checked into Lincoln City KOA, located in Lincoln City. We were supposed to be here for three days, but we couldn’t fit into the site they had booked us in and they only had a one-night vacancy. All three of us were becoming desperate for a respite from the long travel days.

Fortunately, we were able to check into our next stop a couple of days earlier, so we are currently at Oceanside RV Resort in Charleston, OR for the next week. Time to relax and recoup.

The trip continues. The story will as well…

Deep thought for the day:       The Way We Were, Barbara Streisand, 1974

Mem’ries
Light the corners of my mind
Misty water-colored memories
Of the way we were
Scattered pictures,
Of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another
For the way we were
Can it be that it was all so simple then?
Or has time re-written every line?
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me, would we? Could we?
Mem'ries, may be beautiful and yet
What's too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget
So it's the laughter
We will remember
Whenever we remember...
The way we were...
The way we were...

Why Wyoming, Montana and Idaho...

M

Why Wyoming? Well, we needed to drive through Wyoming (a huge state) in order to make our way west across I-90 towards the Pacific. We spent only one night there, at Peter D's RV Park in Sheridan, and coincidentally, friends of ours have been stuck in that very same town with a fuel pump that quit on their motor home last week. They departed from Croton Point Park soon after we did and their family of six and two dogs have been just a few hundred miles behind us, until last Tuesday...

While passing through most of Wyoming, I remember thinking that I would never want to break down here, because all we had observed were miles and miles of hay fields and farms.

As ever-resilient RV'ers, our friends have decided to tent camp in Rapid City, SD until the necessary parts and installation can be completed (projected to be at least another week). Their decision to push on is a true display of optimism and determination. They have decided to make the best out of the worst of circumstances. Our best wishes for beautiful memories and smooth travels to the Garay Family!

 

Here is a photo of Little Miss parked in Peter D's.  This place was a welcome site at the end of a long travel day - a clean campground, pull thru site, full hook-ups and very nice owners. They had a cute main office and store set up with local pottery and hand-crafted items.

There were no amenities, but what they had was all we needed.

I got a kick out of the fact that they asked you to "wipe your feet" before entering the restrooms.

The main office and store stocked with lovely hand-made crafts and pottery.

Montana's Welcome Sign

Since leaving Michigan, the view out of our window turned golden. We saw miles and miles of hay fields, corn, wide-open prairie land and cow herds. There were lots of mountains that were a sandy color, making all of my photos seem pale. 

Lyrics to the song, America The Beautiful, kept going in and out of my head. "Amber waves of grain," "purple mountain's majesty" and "above the fruited plain." I didn't see any fruit in those plains, but boy, did we see wheat! "Holy Cream of Wheat, Batman!"  There were hundreds of miles of wheat, prairie, protected land and nature preserves.

Yellowstone River in Montana

Breakfast by the side of the Little Bighorn River in Montana.

Totally enjoying the view - even more than my coffee!

One of our last stops in Montana was a quick drive-through of Bozeman. If you are familiar with the sit-com, Big Bang Theory, you would understand how I associate the character of Sheldon Cooper with George. In one of the episodes, Sheldon's apartment is robbed and he decided to move to Bozeman, MT, because his research revealed that Bozeman, according to their Chamber of Commerce, was the "Most Livable Place to Live" in the US. Turns out, once he gets off the bus in Bozeman, someone steals his suitcase. Great episode (CLICK TO SEE A CLIP).

Anyway, when I saw our route took us through the infamous town, we had to stop and snap a photo of George with the "Welcome to Bozeman" sign. We were so glad we detoured through the town, because it tured out to be a sweet, little, hopping place. We caught it on a Saturday, during its Annual Sweet Pea Festival. I fell in love with the "Old Amercana" feel of the town and could actually see myself living there.  A funny observation, for only a drive through, but everyone seemed infectiously happy and fun-loving. Another town I did get to snap a few photos of was Ennis, MT. These small towns sure do bring you back in time to a better way of living. No big box stores anywhere to be seen.

Busy Main Street near the Ennis Cafe

The Trading Post and Theater

Ennis Pharmacy has a soda fountain and restaurant!

Willie's Distillery - didn't stop.....no place for us to park.

Idaho was quite interesting. We actually parked for four days in Idaho Falls and did very little except rest, food shop and catch up with laundry and paperwork. Idaho seemed to be a lovely state in which to live. It had been recently voted the top place for First Responders to live, based upon salary, job security and satisfaction. 

The town, although I didn't get any photos of it, was similar to the towns of Bozman and Ennis in Montana. All reminiscent of old town Peekskill, or any 1950'ish city, where Main Street was the bustling center of activity. The busy stores that lined the main street were located in original, restored 19th century buildings. Some of the stores I observed were a bridal shop, several restaurants and pubs, a pharmacy, antique stores, clothing stores (like Genung's), banks, a candy store and an ice cream parlor. We ate dinner at Snakebite Restaurant and enjoyed every "bite...." Only disappointment was similar to our not getting any cheese in Wisconsin - we didn't get any Idaho Potatoes in Idaho.

After leaving our respite at Snake River RV Park, we stopped along the route to visit Craters of the Moon National Park. While we didn't have the time or stamina to do any hiking (temps hovering just below 100 degrees), we did get to watch a video explaining about the volcanic eruptions that have hit the area over the last several hundred-thousands of years, learned about lava tubes and strolled around the Visitor's Center. The lava beds looked just like broken bits of brownie. It was a striking contrast to see after driving through so many miles of golden prairie land. I didn't consider it to be "moon-like" at all, just barren and chocolatey-looking. 

A wooden piece of art replicating the shape of a lava tube, which are empty spaces created by the hot, bubbling lava flows. You could actually hike down the hills and explore inside some of these tubes.

 

Pieces of (brownie) lava.

The journey continues westward. We crossed the border into Oregon on August 12th and have spent  one night in the town of LaGrande and one night in Fairview, which is close to Portland and right along the magnificent Columbia River, both of which will be covered in the next entry. 

Deep thought for the day:  

 "Life handed him a lemon,
As Life sometimes will do.
His friends looked on in pity,
Assuming he was through.
They came upon him later,
Reclining in the shade
In calm contentment, drinking
A glass of lemonade."

"The Optimist," published in The Rotarian,1940 and dedicated to the Garay family.