Grateful

Getting back to reality after a long and exciting trip takes a little transitional decompression time. The piles of suitcase scrunched clothes and life-on-the-road detritus seem a little overwhelming, but above all else, I am filled with gratitude.

I am grateful for:

• 4,000 miles of safe travel. Mercifully, we were spared any harm as we meandered through unfamiliar territory and long stretches of highways and interstate roads.
• America. Our country is a wonderland of natural delight. Tall prairie grasses, stately coniferous trees, chunky lava beds, windswept high deserts, tumbling waterfalls, massive mountains and thunderous ocean waves are just a few sights we were able to experience and enjoy. Get the atlas out (or smartphone app) and get going! 
• a new son-in-law. What fun to be a part of a new chapter in our daughter's life. We are looking forward to making memories with them.
• kind strangers. They gave us tips on where to eat, best roads to travel and interesting sights to see. Their generosity reminds me to be aware of others who might be in need of a little helpful advice.
• friends and family. They took time out to help us celebrate a wedding in Oregon and an open house by South Dakota's Missouri River. We were able to meet many new folks and reconnect with a host of others.
•  a patient husband. My fretting tendencies make me a challenging passenger at best. I never once heard him complain...out loud.
• cuisine diversity. Golden baby beets, elephant garlic, obsidian berries, tiger prawns and fish tacos are just a few of the treats I will miss.
• the Welcome to South Dakota sign. As we enjoyed a cup of coffee and watched a storm thunder bang along the banks of the Missouri River, it was easy to understand why Dorothy of the Wizard of Oz clicked her heels and said, "There's no place like home."

Travel Math

Life on the road means calculating distances, estimated times of arrival and gas station stops.  It has been wise for us to add at least two hours to our travel time calculations due to alternate route decisions, points of interest and frequent breaks. Our day in Wyoming, however, stretched us to a near breaking point with a few miscalculations.

There are three mountain passes on the route we chose from the edge of Idaho through Wyoming. I'm a bit squeamish (okay. a lot squeamish) when it comes to mountain driving, but a moment of weakness made me think I was strong enough to persevere. Shortly after leaving Idaho, we made it through our first summit, 8,431 feet. One down, two to go. It was time for our routine lunch break of sandwiches and fruit so we pulled into the parking lot at a convenience store and shortly thereafter eased out onto the road again. We continued onward through summit two and I sighed with relief. One to go.

There is a point in every trip that will forever go down in history and this was it. As we rounded the curve at the base of the mountain, I saw the "Welcome to Idaho" sign. Few words were exchanged between my husband and me but we both knew what had happened. We had mentally turned ourselves around in the C-store parking lot and had just crossed the same summit twice. Two summits down, three to go. Inhale deeply. Summit again and again.

By late afternoon, I was mainlining Cheese curls and my husband was looking for an illegal-in-some-states size soda pop so we could maintain our sanity. Our last push was through the highest summit of all, 9665 feet. The scenery was absolutely stunning but my husband had seen enough curvy roads with a skittish passenger for one day. We also had a slow moving caravan of three RVs ahead of us and a renegade Cujo RV with fuming diesel pushing us from behind.

More Cheese curls, please.

Finally, we limped into our hotel, looking like a couple of jellyfish washed up along the shore.

Our final calculation: one more travel day. That's a number that's looking mighty good.

Fly Me To The Moon

We officially crawled back into our silver shuttle and we are headed homeward. I don't even want to look at a map because I know how many pages I have to turn in the Atlas to arrive at our destination. We (I, that is) decided not to kill ourselves with outrageously long days and take a more modest approach so we can decompress at a slower pace. I know my husband is envisioning our lawn burning to a crisp for each minute that ticks by, but, oh well.

We took a scenic route called the Old McKenzie Highway through the McKenzie Pass in the Cascade Mountains. After we wound our way through curve after curve, my husband remarked that he probably would not take this road again because "all we are seeing is more trees." A few curves later we saw a feature that puzzled us. It looked like a dump truck had backed up and unloaded tons and tons of rubble in a very large pile along the side of the road. A sign indicated that this was a crater site. As we continued along the way we saw more and more of the rich black obsidian rock piled up in a helter skelter fashion around us. It was evident that we were passing through the rubble of a volcanic mountain. The landscape looked eerily like a moonscape. Life seemed to be screeching to a halt, but for a few scrappy trees and the birds soaring overhead. It was truly a magnificent place.

We continued down the mountain and entered the high plains of Oregon. I discovered that one does not need a volcano to slow down the pace of life. We drove for miles with nothing but sagebrush and the shadows of hawks reflecting on the highway ahead of us. I was waiting for the credits of a John Wayne movie to start rolling on my Garmin. Hot and dry and more of it.

We finished our day with a chicken dinner from the local Safeway (only store open on a Sunday evening in a tiny town on the high plains).  It was a gourmet feast for two weary travelers who had been to the moon and back.

 

Firsts

Our trip has certainly been filled with firsts. Many were expected such as our first three week road trip, our first time on the Pacific Ocean beach, our first time driving through four states in one day and our first time tidepooling. Other firsts, however, cannot be anticipated. One, in particular, was and could NEVER have been expected.

My husband and I were put in charge of our daughter's new home on their wedding night. There were still a few houseguests lingering around and doors needed to be unlocked and locked for the evening. One duty, however, put me on a new learning curve trajectory. My daughter and her husband just adopted a new  golden retriever puppy. Along with the duties of the house came the duties of the dog for the night and next morning before our departure. The groom gave me last minute instructions after the wedding, concluding with, "and he will wake you in the morning when he has to go to the bathroom, usually around 6:00." Alarms went off in my head at that moment. My husband is not a morning person and so it was inevitable that I would be in charge of the doggie do-do business. According to the groom it would go like this. Dog wakes you up. Dog goes outside and does the tinkle thing. Dog comes in. Dog eats a scoop of puppy chow. Dog goes back out and does poo-poo. Simple enough.

As with all instructions, steps are missed. I sailed through the first three steps thinking that I'm quite the dog charmer. And then the chain of events started to unravel. Apparently, Charlie needs to play before he can do the poo-poo thing. I do not play with dogs. I don't understand the nipping, the head shaking with toys, the tail waving in the face, the plaintive eyes begging for attention. Simply stated, I just don't know how to read dog signals.

After the tenth trip to the lawn, hoping for some action, I finally had to let him loose on my sleeping husband. Fortunately, he loves dogs and was kind enough to give him a little doggie love. Back to the lawn we went and voila, a prize was rendered. Holding my breath and thinking happy thoughts, I picked up the the treasure with a plastic bag wrapped tightly around my hand and gave Charlie a little high paw. A first, indeed.

Oh, and we also had our first wedding in a barn on a gorgeous Oregon evening with a beautiful bride and beaming groom. We sat on hay bales for the ceremony and played "You Are My Sunshine" on our kazoos for the processional, accompanied by the local Hoe Down Band. The evening was extraordinary and it will be a first that will always be a divine memory.

Kissing booth in the barn

Moving Inland

We are packing up and heading inland. Here are a few things I will most certainly miss.


The Luna Sea House--best fish and chips in the area. I also had my first fish taco here, oh so good. Low on ambiance, high in class.

The "Hobbit trail" from our cottage to the ocean. Always an adventure.

The Green Salmon Coffee Shop--best cup of coffee and fruit danish, hands down. The oh-so-friendly counter guy made it even more inviting.

Ona's Restaurant--serving saffron laced bouillabaisse and tempura tiger prawns that will be forever seared in my brain as a divine food memory.

The brightly colored rhododendrons, lovin' their acidic soil.

Beachcombing. So much to find. So little time.

The view of the ocean from our deck. High tide, low tide and everything in between, a sight to behold.

Our vehicle rarely leaving the driveway. Enough entertainment by foot or staying put.

Yes, it's time to hang up our lazy bum shoes and don our gettin'-ready-for-a-wedding frocks. In a couple of short days we will welcome a son into our family. Sweet dreams.

Sneakers

My old sneakers are in a state of shock this week. They usually sit very quietly in the back of my closet for days, okay, weeks on end. Now they have been commissioned back into action due to a shoreline begging for discovery and a little coastal town that has everything we need within walking distance.

One of my favorite walking adventures is checking out the local tidepools, albeit, there is a skill set involved. First of all, one needs to be able to read the tide charts. Thanks to Ranger Clameron we are able to navigate the foreign looking tables and determine when the lowest tide time of the day is and thus, we know the best time to be on the beach. Walking on the slippery rock formations is another story. The tip sheet says, "Step on bare rock only. A "crunch" or a "squish" could mean death to a living creature." Oops. Midwestener coming through. Sorry, little creatures.

Secondly, tiidepooling is not a binoculars activity. One has to get down, nose to water and patiently observe the small ponds of life. A small stick is helpful so you can gently nudge whatever looks interesting. Your patience will be rewarded. We were able to observe thousands of tiny Acorn Barnacles, hitchhiking on mussels or patiently awaiting on rocks for the next high tide.

Colonies of Aggregating Anemonies huddled among the red Coralline Algae.

Kelp of all colors and varieties laced the rocks and puddles.

Vibrant Green Anemones nestled in among the purple and ochre sea stars.

Brilliant Purple Sea Urchins flexed their spines in search of another snack of seaweed salad.

Large animals can be discovered as well, but mostly from afar. Harbor seals slip on and off the rocks as they lollygag their day away. (Look very carefully for a couple of white blobs on the rock ledge in the center of the picture.)

Yes, much can be seen while walking along the ocean. And it is good to follow the advice of J.R. Beaver and the Oregon State Parks--Never turn your back on the ocean. Sneaker waves appear suddenly and will certainly cut your walk short. Walker, beware and be safe.

Observations

Forgive me for beginning this post with a worn out lead sentence but as a Midwesterner looking into the window of a Pacific Northwest state, I just can't help myself.

You know you are in Oregon when.....

*fish is on every menu. I can die now because I've had the best fish and chips ever at a little hole-in-the-wall establishment just a short walk from our place. It was the sampler option with halibut, albacore and salmon as the featured fish. I'm still dreaming about the salmon, silky smooth and oh so fresh. It will be difficult to order the mystery fish used for fish and chips back home.

*you don't pump your own gas. This is a strange experience for those of us who are accustomed to standing outside during rain, shine, blizzard or sleet as we fill up our vehicles. Also, don't expect to find restrooms at all gas stops. Many stations are just pumps and a little shelter for the attendants to await their next customers. Plan accordingly.

*there are more dogs on leashes than babies in strollers. I'm not a dog lover (due to a series of unfortunate incidents in my past) but I must confess that Oregonian dogs are very well behaved. They dutifully walk beside their masters, weaving in and out of crowds of people without any frantic behaviors. They dash around on the beach with little interest in other people and are quickly reigned in my their owners when play time is over.

*the sun is a precious sighting. We all have the need for a little sunshine but I get the feeling that Oregonians especially like a break in the clouds. The local weather chatter often ends with the phrase, "at least the sun is out today."

And, finally, you know you are in Oregon when you are walking along the beach and a purple sea star wishes you well and I must say, nothing excites a Midwesterner more than a cute little echinoderm.