Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
September 22, 2009 – San Juan Bautista, CA
A grueling day; six hours of nearly nonstop dueling with slow, windey mountain roads, insane drivers in Marin County, ugly traffic in Oakland and San Jose, and a misbegotten rest stop in Berkeley, of all places.
We got off to a nice start, around ten, from Benbow, heading south through tourist attractions like Confusion Hill that we have yet to visit, making our way mostly down the “Old Road” 101, because there is no “New Road” 101 yet. This is the same highway that Don used to travel on his way to Oregon in the summers of 1945 and beyond. There is, for sure, great beauty in the scenery, but it isn’t what we call “Big Rig Friendly”. Slow going. The road flattened out around Ukiah, but it still wasn’t very fast. I felt the need to monitor our progress most of the way, and I was very upset with some of the ill-mannered drivers that Don had to put up with. I could drive better than some of them! The people in Marin County were particularly bad, cutting into our lane so close in front of use that we had to brake really hard to avoid running over them. Don won’t drive the rig through San Francisco, ‘cause he knows it too well, so we avoided it by driving over the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge to catch highway 80 down to the 880 south. He’d been driving for over four hours, and felt the need to stop and walk around a little bit, so he pulled off on a turnoff in Berkeley. Bad luck; there was no place there to pull over and stop. We wound up heading into downtown Berkeley, traipsing down San Pablo Avenue past all the BBQ joints until we could head back toward the freeway, where we found a pullout suitable for some walking around. I got out with the rest of the group, but refused to anoint this city with my leavings. When Don got his circulation back, we got aboard and headed south again.
Almost two hours later, we pulled into one of our favorite places, Betabel RV Park in San Juan Bautista. They are very dog-friendly here, and provide a very nice treat for their incoming canine guests. They provided me with a set of rules for People Owners, asking that I keep them on a leash and take them to designated walk areas, and that I insist that they take me inside the RV with them at night. Geri took me for a nice walk, and I saw a big herd of deer that got my interest; but not so interested that I wanted to get too close to them. There are lots of friendly people here, and we met some that have a Goldie who is even bigger than I am! A very friendly guy, of course. We got along well.
This is the last night of this adventure, and we will be pulling into our driveway tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be anxious to meet up with my old friends, particularly Alice and Cooper, two of the nicest Aussies I’ve ever met. I’ll be happy to go walking in my usual haunts, where I feel comfortable and safe enough to leave Don way behind me until he yells at me to wait for him. I’ll enjoy going out in the morning and retrieving a real newspaper, instead of a phony one. And I will love getting back into my old routine of walking, eating, napping, and playing. I love travelling, but I really like getting home again. I think Geri and Don feel the same way!
A grueling day; six hours of nearly nonstop dueling with slow, windey mountain roads, insane drivers in Marin County, ugly traffic in Oakland and San Jose, and a misbegotten rest stop in Berkeley, of all places.
We got off to a nice start, around ten, from Benbow, heading south through tourist attractions like Confusion Hill that we have yet to visit, making our way mostly down the “Old Road” 101, because there is no “New Road” 101 yet. This is the same highway that Don used to travel on his way to Oregon in the summers of 1945 and beyond. There is, for sure, great beauty in the scenery, but it isn’t what we call “Big Rig Friendly”. Slow going. The road flattened out around Ukiah, but it still wasn’t very fast. I felt the need to monitor our progress most of the way, and I was very upset with some of the ill-mannered drivers that Don had to put up with. I could drive better than some of them! The people in Marin County were particularly bad, cutting into our lane so close in front of use that we had to brake really hard to avoid running over them. Don won’t drive the rig through San Francisco, ‘cause he knows it too well, so we avoided it by driving over the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge to catch highway 80 down to the 880 south. He’d been driving for over four hours, and felt the need to stop and walk around a little bit, so he pulled off on a turnoff in Berkeley. Bad luck; there was no place there to pull over and stop. We wound up heading into downtown Berkeley, traipsing down San Pablo Avenue past all the BBQ joints until we could head back toward the freeway, where we found a pullout suitable for some walking around. I got out with the rest of the group, but refused to anoint this city with my leavings. When Don got his circulation back, we got aboard and headed south again.
Almost two hours later, we pulled into one of our favorite places, Betabel RV Park in San Juan Bautista. They are very dog-friendly here, and provide a very nice treat for their incoming canine guests. They provided me with a set of rules for People Owners, asking that I keep them on a leash and take them to designated walk areas, and that I insist that they take me inside the RV with them at night. Geri took me for a nice walk, and I saw a big herd of deer that got my interest; but not so interested that I wanted to get too close to them. There are lots of friendly people here, and we met some that have a Goldie who is even bigger than I am! A very friendly guy, of course. We got along well.
This is the last night of this adventure, and we will be pulling into our driveway tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be anxious to meet up with my old friends, particularly Alice and Cooper, two of the nicest Aussies I’ve ever met. I’ll be happy to go walking in my usual haunts, where I feel comfortable and safe enough to leave Don way behind me until he yells at me to wait for him. I’ll enjoy going out in the morning and retrieving a real newspaper, instead of a phony one. And I will love getting back into my old routine of walking, eating, napping, and playing. I love travelling, but I really like getting home again. I think Geri and Don feel the same way!
Monday, September 21, 2009
September 21, 2009 – Benbow, CA
Notice the location? Do we have a winner in the “Where are we?” battle? Looks like it. Like I said, I don’t care, I like it here; just wish it wasn’t quite so hot in the afternoon. I have to tell you about the morning walk that Don and I took. As he frequently does, he let me choose where we went, with only occasional direction to keep me out of real trouble. After noodling about the RV Park, I decided to follow a road up a hill next to the doggy amusement area; it led to a big storage area where equipment and building materials were stored, which I investigated thoroughly. I heard some quail taunting me with their chuckling, so I had to charge them and send them flying. Then Don pointed out to me a path that led down a steep hill back toward the RV Park, and I ran past him, hurtling down the path. At the bottom of the hill was a patch of the prettiest grass I had seen all during the trip; I noticed that there was a spindly flag pole in the middle of it, planted in a hole in the grass, but that meant nothing to me. I hit the grass and broke into a fabulous display of crazy dog running, turning, twisting, feinting, cutting, all at breakneck speed. Don was still making his way down the hill, yelling at me. I stopped to try to hear what he was saying, and noticed a group of humans off in the distance who were standing next to a electric cart and watching me with more than curiosity. Well, I knew that they wanted some more crazy dog show, so I indulged them with some more superlative running. Don finally got down the hill and ordered me to follow him, while he lectured me on not disturbing golfers when they were trying to chip onto the green. I had no idea what he was talking about. I thought it was a very good walk.
When Geri was ready to go, we got in the truck and headed north until we got to the end of the Avenue of the Giants, just short of Scotia. We got off the 101 and turned south to immerse ourselves in redwoods. We stopped to get another look at a tree that had survived lightning, lumberjacks, and other problems, and still stood tall. We met some Texans with an irrepressible Pommie, who was jumping up the back of the truck to try to meet me properly. I think she liked me. We continued down to the Founder’s Grove, only to find out that dogs were not allowed on the trail. Tough Luck, I was told, as Geri and Don wandered off to see the trees. They were only gone for a little while, and I had a good nap while waiting for them. They told me about a giant tree that had fallen down during a storm, and that it was a lot taller than they were even while laying on the ground. We met another family who had a really cute Schnauzer, who had a lot to say until she was picked up by her human and properly introduced to me, face to face. She got really quiet. We stopped at some other places where I could walk the trails, but I thought it was safer to stay close to Don during these walks, as I didn’t know what the dangers were in this environment. We stopped for lunch at a little restaurant that had a big redwood stump in back of it that had been hollowed out to make a shelter, or house. I inspected it, and found it barely adequate to serve as a dog house. But the trees were beautiful and huge, the shade they provided was cool and welcome, and it was quite an enjoyable afternoon. Don says that I have to mention that we went to a grove of trees that was preserved by the California Women’s Clubs Federation, that featured a monument that was designed by Julia Morgan, one of his favorite architects. He says that she did the Hearst Castle job on the central California coast. OK, whatever.
When we got home, Geri fixed up some BLT sandwiches, which don’t leave much for me, but I got some leftover salmon anyway. Not a bad deal. We went to bed fairly early, as we have a big travel day tomorrow. Talk to you then!
Notice the location? Do we have a winner in the “Where are we?” battle? Looks like it. Like I said, I don’t care, I like it here; just wish it wasn’t quite so hot in the afternoon. I have to tell you about the morning walk that Don and I took. As he frequently does, he let me choose where we went, with only occasional direction to keep me out of real trouble. After noodling about the RV Park, I decided to follow a road up a hill next to the doggy amusement area; it led to a big storage area where equipment and building materials were stored, which I investigated thoroughly. I heard some quail taunting me with their chuckling, so I had to charge them and send them flying. Then Don pointed out to me a path that led down a steep hill back toward the RV Park, and I ran past him, hurtling down the path. At the bottom of the hill was a patch of the prettiest grass I had seen all during the trip; I noticed that there was a spindly flag pole in the middle of it, planted in a hole in the grass, but that meant nothing to me. I hit the grass and broke into a fabulous display of crazy dog running, turning, twisting, feinting, cutting, all at breakneck speed. Don was still making his way down the hill, yelling at me. I stopped to try to hear what he was saying, and noticed a group of humans off in the distance who were standing next to a electric cart and watching me with more than curiosity. Well, I knew that they wanted some more crazy dog show, so I indulged them with some more superlative running. Don finally got down the hill and ordered me to follow him, while he lectured me on not disturbing golfers when they were trying to chip onto the green. I had no idea what he was talking about. I thought it was a very good walk.
When Geri was ready to go, we got in the truck and headed north until we got to the end of the Avenue of the Giants, just short of Scotia. We got off the 101 and turned south to immerse ourselves in redwoods. We stopped to get another look at a tree that had survived lightning, lumberjacks, and other problems, and still stood tall. We met some Texans with an irrepressible Pommie, who was jumping up the back of the truck to try to meet me properly. I think she liked me. We continued down to the Founder’s Grove, only to find out that dogs were not allowed on the trail. Tough Luck, I was told, as Geri and Don wandered off to see the trees. They were only gone for a little while, and I had a good nap while waiting for them. They told me about a giant tree that had fallen down during a storm, and that it was a lot taller than they were even while laying on the ground. We met another family who had a really cute Schnauzer, who had a lot to say until she was picked up by her human and properly introduced to me, face to face. She got really quiet. We stopped at some other places where I could walk the trails, but I thought it was safer to stay close to Don during these walks, as I didn’t know what the dangers were in this environment. We stopped for lunch at a little restaurant that had a big redwood stump in back of it that had been hollowed out to make a shelter, or house. I inspected it, and found it barely adequate to serve as a dog house. But the trees were beautiful and huge, the shade they provided was cool and welcome, and it was quite an enjoyable afternoon. Don says that I have to mention that we went to a grove of trees that was preserved by the California Women’s Clubs Federation, that featured a monument that was designed by Julia Morgan, one of his favorite architects. He says that she did the Hearst Castle job on the central California coast. OK, whatever.
When we got home, Geri fixed up some BLT sandwiches, which don’t leave much for me, but I got some leftover salmon anyway. Not a bad deal. We went to bed fairly early, as we have a big travel day tomorrow. Talk to you then!
Sunday, September 20, 2009
September 20, 2009 – Garberville, CA
Let me say first that there is some level of disagreement between Geri and Don as to where exactly we are. Don says that we are effectively in Garberville, as that is the closest incorporated community; Geri says we’re in Benbow, because the local newspaper refers to individuals as residing in Benbow. I really don’t have a dog in this fight (Ha! Ha!), because I’m just glad to be in a park that has a lot of nice grass to roll in. Don told me that when he was a pup, he would ride a bus (called a Greyhound!) up the 101 to stay with his Great Aunt and Uncle in Oregon nearly every summer. Every time he passed through this place, he would look out the window of the bus at the magnificent Benbow Inn, see the fine cars of the rich and famous parked around it, and tell himself that, someday, he would stay there too. Well, today marks the second time he’s stayed at the Benbow Resort. Except, it’s across the highway from the old Inn, and it accommodates only recreational vehicles, such as ours. Checking the Benbow’s website today, he found that the King of Jordan stayed at the Inn last year while on a motorcycle tour of the northern Californian and Oregon coast. Maybe when Don gets off this motorhome kick he’ll get to do the real thing.
Our voyage from Trinidad down to Garberville/Benbow was relatively short and uneventful, except for having to fuel at a regular gas station, with the usual space limitations and the need to keep inserting credit cards every seventy-five dollars. No real truck stops along this route. But the highway is very good, and traffic is light, so we sailed along very nicely. We got a very nice site at the RV Park, with lots of grass and a shade tree; very comfortable for me. Geri and Don went into Garberville to do some shopping, I napped until they came home, Geri took me for a nice walk, and I got my dinner. They snacked on some stuff they had been squirreling away for when they weren’t really hungry, and I got no plates out of it.
While Geri and I went out for another walk, Don took a cigar, a glass of Duggan’s Dew of Kirkintilloch, and a book of Glencannon stories out to our patio; when we returned, we could hear him laughing and coughing a half a block away. That’s what Glencannon stories do to him. Who is this Glencannon? Well, of course, Don has told me about him, and even read parts of some stories to me. Colin Glencannon is the principal character in a series of stories written by an author named Guy Gilpatric many years ago, most of which were published in the Saturday Evening Post. Mr. Glencannon is the Chief Engineer of an ancient tramp steamer, the SS Inchcliffe Castle, a British flagged vessel. Most of these stories take place prior to WW II. A man of unusual genius and monstrous capacity for Scotch Whisky, Glencannon’s escapades in various ports around the world make for hilarious reading for men of partial Scotch ancestry whose past lives include serving as engineers aboard antiquated steamships. Not that I’m talking about anyone in particular. Oh, by the way; Glencannon’s whisky of choice? Duggan’s Dew of Kirkintilloch. Well, I had to write about something today, and the pickings were kind of slim. Tomorrow is excursion day, and I’m hoping it will be eventful and interesting!
Let me say first that there is some level of disagreement between Geri and Don as to where exactly we are. Don says that we are effectively in Garberville, as that is the closest incorporated community; Geri says we’re in Benbow, because the local newspaper refers to individuals as residing in Benbow. I really don’t have a dog in this fight (Ha! Ha!), because I’m just glad to be in a park that has a lot of nice grass to roll in. Don told me that when he was a pup, he would ride a bus (called a Greyhound!) up the 101 to stay with his Great Aunt and Uncle in Oregon nearly every summer. Every time he passed through this place, he would look out the window of the bus at the magnificent Benbow Inn, see the fine cars of the rich and famous parked around it, and tell himself that, someday, he would stay there too. Well, today marks the second time he’s stayed at the Benbow Resort. Except, it’s across the highway from the old Inn, and it accommodates only recreational vehicles, such as ours. Checking the Benbow’s website today, he found that the King of Jordan stayed at the Inn last year while on a motorcycle tour of the northern Californian and Oregon coast. Maybe when Don gets off this motorhome kick he’ll get to do the real thing.
Our voyage from Trinidad down to Garberville/Benbow was relatively short and uneventful, except for having to fuel at a regular gas station, with the usual space limitations and the need to keep inserting credit cards every seventy-five dollars. No real truck stops along this route. But the highway is very good, and traffic is light, so we sailed along very nicely. We got a very nice site at the RV Park, with lots of grass and a shade tree; very comfortable for me. Geri and Don went into Garberville to do some shopping, I napped until they came home, Geri took me for a nice walk, and I got my dinner. They snacked on some stuff they had been squirreling away for when they weren’t really hungry, and I got no plates out of it.
While Geri and I went out for another walk, Don took a cigar, a glass of Duggan’s Dew of Kirkintilloch, and a book of Glencannon stories out to our patio; when we returned, we could hear him laughing and coughing a half a block away. That’s what Glencannon stories do to him. Who is this Glencannon? Well, of course, Don has told me about him, and even read parts of some stories to me. Colin Glencannon is the principal character in a series of stories written by an author named Guy Gilpatric many years ago, most of which were published in the Saturday Evening Post. Mr. Glencannon is the Chief Engineer of an ancient tramp steamer, the SS Inchcliffe Castle, a British flagged vessel. Most of these stories take place prior to WW II. A man of unusual genius and monstrous capacity for Scotch Whisky, Glencannon’s escapades in various ports around the world make for hilarious reading for men of partial Scotch ancestry whose past lives include serving as engineers aboard antiquated steamships. Not that I’m talking about anyone in particular. Oh, by the way; Glencannon’s whisky of choice? Duggan’s Dew of Kirkintilloch. Well, I had to write about something today, and the pickings were kind of slim. Tomorrow is excursion day, and I’m hoping it will be eventful and interesting!
Saturday, September 19, 2009
September 19, 2009 – Trinidad, CA
Geri and Don have stopped here in Trinidad on previous trips; every time, they have said that they need to spend some time here and get to see more of the area, because Trinidad has such a beautiful setting atop a cliff above the sea on a tiny bay. Well, this morning we set off to see Trinidad. We got an early start (for this crowd), and headed north to Patricks Point State Park. When we got to the Ranger’s kiosk at the entrance, Don told the lady that we were interested in going to Agate Beach. She wanted to know if we understood that the beach required going down (and back up) a couple hundred feet of stairs; nooo, we didn’t know that. She recommended that we head a little further north to Big Lagoon, where the beach was more accessible. We agreed. Just a few minutes later, we pulled into a parking spot just a couple of hundred yards from the beach, with no stairs. We walked out toward the surf, and I impetuously ran toward the water. Maybe something in my genes told me I should. I ran toward the surf as the surf was surging toward me, and I was suddenly knee deep in some really fast moving water that almost knocked me off my feet! Whoa! I acquired instant respect for this situation, and stayed clear of the surf during the remainder of our beach sojourn. We looked around the beach, and saw that there were quite a few people there roaming around, while looking down at the beach, which consisted of small pebbles. We talked to a couple who had two dogs with them, and found that they were looking for agates! Apparently, there are as many agates here as on Agate Beach! One of their dogs was a black Lab who was a really great digger. He dug up a rock the size of a big hamburger, and brought it over to his folks as a present. They weren’t all that interested, so he took it back down the beach and buried it. Their other dog was a Goldie, a female who had contracted cancer, requiring that her left foreleg be removed. She still got around pretty good, and was a very happy girl who showed great love for her humans. I liked her immediately. We walked around some more, looking at the pebbles in the beach, but not finding any agates. We met another Goldie, named Murdock, who was also very likeable; his mom had some really good treats, which she was willing to share with me.
Since Geri and Don weren’t finding any agates, and I wasn’t interested in playing in the deadly surf, we got back in the truck and headed for downtown Trinidad. Turns out, the only thing they had on their minds at that time was food! We parked at a restaurant, and they went in to gobble clam chowder and blackberry cobbler. I had gotten my lunch at the beach, so I didn’t feel too bad. When they finished their lunch, we drove down to the pier, where the fishing boats come in, and took a little walk around. The seagulls had absolutely no fear of me, so I didn’t bother with chasing them. We drove back up to town, and visited the memorial to Trinidadians who had been lost at sea over the years; it’s quite nice, and in a spectacular setting.
After making a purchase of some smoked salmon at a local shop, Don took us on a drive south of town, on a road that was really trying to fall off the cliff into the sea, but was under constant repair in many places to shore it up. Geri and I were glad that we weren’t in the motorhome. When we completed that tour, we realized that we had experienced everything that Trinidad had to offer! We went back to the rig to figure out what we were going to do tomorrow. Geri found this exhausting, and took a nap. Don kept researching, but ultimately came to the conclusion that the only decent RV Park further down the road, but still in the redwoods, was the Benbow RV Park, where we stayed last year as we went up the coast. So much for looking for new experiences. Geri made the reservations when she finished her nap. Tomorrow we’re off for Garberville. See ya!
Geri and Don have stopped here in Trinidad on previous trips; every time, they have said that they need to spend some time here and get to see more of the area, because Trinidad has such a beautiful setting atop a cliff above the sea on a tiny bay. Well, this morning we set off to see Trinidad. We got an early start (for this crowd), and headed north to Patricks Point State Park. When we got to the Ranger’s kiosk at the entrance, Don told the lady that we were interested in going to Agate Beach. She wanted to know if we understood that the beach required going down (and back up) a couple hundred feet of stairs; nooo, we didn’t know that. She recommended that we head a little further north to Big Lagoon, where the beach was more accessible. We agreed. Just a few minutes later, we pulled into a parking spot just a couple of hundred yards from the beach, with no stairs. We walked out toward the surf, and I impetuously ran toward the water. Maybe something in my genes told me I should. I ran toward the surf as the surf was surging toward me, and I was suddenly knee deep in some really fast moving water that almost knocked me off my feet! Whoa! I acquired instant respect for this situation, and stayed clear of the surf during the remainder of our beach sojourn. We looked around the beach, and saw that there were quite a few people there roaming around, while looking down at the beach, which consisted of small pebbles. We talked to a couple who had two dogs with them, and found that they were looking for agates! Apparently, there are as many agates here as on Agate Beach! One of their dogs was a black Lab who was a really great digger. He dug up a rock the size of a big hamburger, and brought it over to his folks as a present. They weren’t all that interested, so he took it back down the beach and buried it. Their other dog was a Goldie, a female who had contracted cancer, requiring that her left foreleg be removed. She still got around pretty good, and was a very happy girl who showed great love for her humans. I liked her immediately. We walked around some more, looking at the pebbles in the beach, but not finding any agates. We met another Goldie, named Murdock, who was also very likeable; his mom had some really good treats, which she was willing to share with me.
Since Geri and Don weren’t finding any agates, and I wasn’t interested in playing in the deadly surf, we got back in the truck and headed for downtown Trinidad. Turns out, the only thing they had on their minds at that time was food! We parked at a restaurant, and they went in to gobble clam chowder and blackberry cobbler. I had gotten my lunch at the beach, so I didn’t feel too bad. When they finished their lunch, we drove down to the pier, where the fishing boats come in, and took a little walk around. The seagulls had absolutely no fear of me, so I didn’t bother with chasing them. We drove back up to town, and visited the memorial to Trinidadians who had been lost at sea over the years; it’s quite nice, and in a spectacular setting.
After making a purchase of some smoked salmon at a local shop, Don took us on a drive south of town, on a road that was really trying to fall off the cliff into the sea, but was under constant repair in many places to shore it up. Geri and I were glad that we weren’t in the motorhome. When we completed that tour, we realized that we had experienced everything that Trinidad had to offer! We went back to the rig to figure out what we were going to do tomorrow. Geri found this exhausting, and took a nap. Don kept researching, but ultimately came to the conclusion that the only decent RV Park further down the road, but still in the redwoods, was the Benbow RV Park, where we stayed last year as we went up the coast. So much for looking for new experiences. Geri made the reservations when she finished her nap. Tomorrow we’re off for Garberville. See ya!
Friday, September 18, 2009
September 18, 2009 – Trinidad, CA
Another perfectly organized and executed travel day, planned and orchestrated by my extremely capable humans, Geri and Don. I had another nice walk through the woodsy KOA, courtesy of Don, but failed to scare up any critters to chase. The folks had a leisurely morning, got their heads together to agree on our next destination, and got underway about eleven. We stopped at an overlook on the coast to drink in some of the gorgeous scenery and have some lunch, then headed south again into California. We had some windey roads and hills, but nothing our intrepid pilot could not cope with. We reached our destination, the Emerald Forest RV Park just outside Trinidad, a little after three, and got set up in a beautiful site surrounded by majestic redwood trees. Don says that there are basically two kinds of RV Parks, artificial and natural. Most parks are artificial, being basically a parking lot that has been arranged to serve RV’s; most parks fall into this category. Some are magnificently designed and implemented, like our favorites, Seven Feathers in Canyonville and Outdoor Resorts in Las Vegas. Natural parks are carved out of natural surroundings like forests or desert rockpiles, with sites that have been constructed with strong consideration of maintaining the original features of the area. This park is a great example of a natural park, with the RV sites fitted in between groves of tall redwoods and the roads mostly dirt. We lucked out and got what is probably the best site in the park, very large, with beautiful trees on each side, and fairly level.
Don got the rig set up for living, and we commenced some needed housecleaning, Don on the outside and Geri on the inside. Once that was done, Don heated up some leftovers for dinner, and I got a few decent plates out of it. After dinner, Geri took me for a nice walk through the park, which is fairly full. We’re planning on some big time sightseeing tomorrow; I’ll give you a rundown and show you some pics!
Another perfectly organized and executed travel day, planned and orchestrated by my extremely capable humans, Geri and Don. I had another nice walk through the woodsy KOA, courtesy of Don, but failed to scare up any critters to chase. The folks had a leisurely morning, got their heads together to agree on our next destination, and got underway about eleven. We stopped at an overlook on the coast to drink in some of the gorgeous scenery and have some lunch, then headed south again into California. We had some windey roads and hills, but nothing our intrepid pilot could not cope with. We reached our destination, the Emerald Forest RV Park just outside Trinidad, a little after three, and got set up in a beautiful site surrounded by majestic redwood trees. Don says that there are basically two kinds of RV Parks, artificial and natural. Most parks are artificial, being basically a parking lot that has been arranged to serve RV’s; most parks fall into this category. Some are magnificently designed and implemented, like our favorites, Seven Feathers in Canyonville and Outdoor Resorts in Las Vegas. Natural parks are carved out of natural surroundings like forests or desert rockpiles, with sites that have been constructed with strong consideration of maintaining the original features of the area. This park is a great example of a natural park, with the RV sites fitted in between groves of tall redwoods and the roads mostly dirt. We lucked out and got what is probably the best site in the park, very large, with beautiful trees on each side, and fairly level.
Don got the rig set up for living, and we commenced some needed housecleaning, Don on the outside and Geri on the inside. Once that was done, Don heated up some leftovers for dinner, and I got a few decent plates out of it. After dinner, Geri took me for a nice walk through the park, which is fairly full. We’re planning on some big time sightseeing tomorrow; I’ll give you a rundown and show you some pics!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
September 17, 2009 – Port Orford, OR
We had one of those strange mornings where everyone gets up early, gets involved in something (usually nonessential), and doesn’t get around to doing whatever is on the schedule until the morning’s almost gone. On the scheduled, essential activities side, Don took me out for a good long walk on the playing field next to the RV Park. About halfway across the field, I spotted a couple of gophers lounging around on the grass and set out after them. They ran for their holes, but I kept an eye on which holes they went to; I chose one of them, and started a major excavation job to try to extract the rascal. I’m not normally a digger, but something was urging me on to get this critter. The dirt was really flying, and I got the hole big enough so that I could get my snout down the hole about a foot. No luck, he was way too deep. Well, it was fun anyway. When we got back to the rig, Don got involved in some exterior cleaning, and Geri was putzing around inside. They finally got together to discuss which RV Park they wanted to stay at in Port Orford; they finally boiled it down to two choices, and Geri called both of them to find out that they didn’t have room for us. She wound up getting a reservation at the KOA that we stayed at last year.
We finally got on the road around eleven, and headed south on the 5. Just as we were turning off onto route 38 to take us to the coast, Geri decided to take a nap. Too bad, she missed some remarkably beautiful scenery on the drive along the Umpqua River; Don and I really enjoyed it. We turned south on 101 at Reedsport, heading back through North Bend and Coos Bay and down through Bandon and Langlois, where Don spent many summers as a kid. We pulled into the KOA, got our site assigned, and pulled into it. As I got out of the coach, I could see that the lady from the rig next door was admiring me; I smiled at her, and she walked toward me. I was wagging furiously, and ran to her, while she knelt down to hug me. Wow, am I good, or what? Turns out she is a Goldie fancier, and has her own young fellow, by name of Austin. He’s less than two years old, and a bit feisty. That’s OK, he’ll probably calm down.
After Don got the coach set up and livable, we loaded into the truck and headed down the road to visit Port Orford. We’ve been through here before, but haven’t spent any time looking around. We went down to the fishboat pier, where they haul the boats up onto the pier for storage with a crane. Lots of boats, but not much going on. We drove up the hill to the old Coast Guard Lifeboat Station, where the museum was closed. Then we went over to the lake which is separated from the ocean by sand dunes, and looked at the nice houses there. We visited the RV Parks that didn’t have room for us; they were both kind of tight, might have been difficult to shoehorn our rig into one of those spots.
Geri and Don called a halt to our wanderings, and headed for their real destination, a restaurant called The Crazy Norwegian’s. It has the reputation for serving the finest fish and chips on the Oregon Coast. They came out about an hour later (and about an hour after my scheduled meal time) raving about the quality of the fish; the place was packed with people, and they had been invited to share a table with a couple of fellow RV’ers from Reno, who were staying in Port Orford for a couple of months. I guess they had a really good time while their Best Friend starved in the truck. But we finally got home, I got my dinner, and all was well; I forgive easily. A little walk with Geri through the RV Park, a few treats, a little blogging, and so to bed. We’re underway again tomorrow!
We had one of those strange mornings where everyone gets up early, gets involved in something (usually nonessential), and doesn’t get around to doing whatever is on the schedule until the morning’s almost gone. On the scheduled, essential activities side, Don took me out for a good long walk on the playing field next to the RV Park. About halfway across the field, I spotted a couple of gophers lounging around on the grass and set out after them. They ran for their holes, but I kept an eye on which holes they went to; I chose one of them, and started a major excavation job to try to extract the rascal. I’m not normally a digger, but something was urging me on to get this critter. The dirt was really flying, and I got the hole big enough so that I could get my snout down the hole about a foot. No luck, he was way too deep. Well, it was fun anyway. When we got back to the rig, Don got involved in some exterior cleaning, and Geri was putzing around inside. They finally got together to discuss which RV Park they wanted to stay at in Port Orford; they finally boiled it down to two choices, and Geri called both of them to find out that they didn’t have room for us. She wound up getting a reservation at the KOA that we stayed at last year.
We finally got on the road around eleven, and headed south on the 5. Just as we were turning off onto route 38 to take us to the coast, Geri decided to take a nap. Too bad, she missed some remarkably beautiful scenery on the drive along the Umpqua River; Don and I really enjoyed it. We turned south on 101 at Reedsport, heading back through North Bend and Coos Bay and down through Bandon and Langlois, where Don spent many summers as a kid. We pulled into the KOA, got our site assigned, and pulled into it. As I got out of the coach, I could see that the lady from the rig next door was admiring me; I smiled at her, and she walked toward me. I was wagging furiously, and ran to her, while she knelt down to hug me. Wow, am I good, or what? Turns out she is a Goldie fancier, and has her own young fellow, by name of Austin. He’s less than two years old, and a bit feisty. That’s OK, he’ll probably calm down.
After Don got the coach set up and livable, we loaded into the truck and headed down the road to visit Port Orford. We’ve been through here before, but haven’t spent any time looking around. We went down to the fishboat pier, where they haul the boats up onto the pier for storage with a crane. Lots of boats, but not much going on. We drove up the hill to the old Coast Guard Lifeboat Station, where the museum was closed. Then we went over to the lake which is separated from the ocean by sand dunes, and looked at the nice houses there. We visited the RV Parks that didn’t have room for us; they were both kind of tight, might have been difficult to shoehorn our rig into one of those spots.
Geri and Don called a halt to our wanderings, and headed for their real destination, a restaurant called The Crazy Norwegian’s. It has the reputation for serving the finest fish and chips on the Oregon Coast. They came out about an hour later (and about an hour after my scheduled meal time) raving about the quality of the fish; the place was packed with people, and they had been invited to share a table with a couple of fellow RV’ers from Reno, who were staying in Port Orford for a couple of months. I guess they had a really good time while their Best Friend starved in the truck. But we finally got home, I got my dinner, and all was well; I forgive easily. A little walk with Geri through the RV Park, a few treats, a little blogging, and so to bed. We’re underway again tomorrow!
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