10-01-2020 Traveling to Northern Washington

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The MoHo in Site 3 at LePage on the John Day River

I have hesitated a bit in writing this particular blog. I set the posting date for October 6, but today it is actually October 26 and I am finally sitting down to write about our trip. 

Early evening at LePage where the John Day River meets the Columbia

Some might guess the reason for my hesitation.  It was a family visit, one of those gatherings that seem to engender all sorts of responses from all random corners of the internet about social distancing, mask wearing, and staying at home.  I know there will be reactions out there and I really don’t like having to explain myself, but I guess I have to at least try, because I want to write about our trip.  I don’t want an empty spot in the blog that is our personal history.

Late Afternoon on the John Day River

After many months of keeping mostly to ourselves, like others, I suffered from family hunger.  I wanted to see my daughter before winter set in, I wanted to see my grandkids before they have grandchildren of their own, I wanted to see my great-grandkids.  I said to Mo,  “What do you think about a trip to Lincoln to visit Deanna and Keith?”.  As always, Mo was ready for a journey, ready for a trip, and we decided we could take our chances and go visit the family.  In fairness, I talked extensively with Deanna before deciding to go.  At the time, her county in northeastern Washington state had 2, yes, you read that right, 2 cases of COVID and no deaths.  Our county here in Oregon had some of the lowest numbers in our state as well.  My grandson is isolated on his homestead, and my great-grandkids are being schooled at home.  No one seemed to be in any danger of either being sick or being exposed.  Mo and I were clean, the family was clean, and we decided to go. 

Full moon night on the John Day River at LePage

Unlike days in the past, where my blog had a few hundred readers each day, the numbers have reduced considerably since I no longer blog on a regular basis.  The days of blogging the way we used to are definitely waning, but as I had said before, it is the history and the memories that are important to me.  If I were writing only for myself, I would have to make no explanations, but even the few readers I have left will no doubt have some opinions, pro or con, about our choice to travel and visit family.  So, to set the minds of those few readers at ease…it has been 3 weeks now and we are all just fine and still healthy.

We decided to travel the eastern route toward Crater Lake and Highway 97, intercepting I-84 at Biggs Junction on the Columbia River.  It would have been possible to make the trip in a day of long driving, as my daughter Deborah did, but no reason for us to do that.  Instead, we made a reservation at LePage, a campground we are familiar with and have used often.

I was very glad I had made the reservation since the campground was completely full.  It is an easy place to stay for an overnight, and with our geezer pass quite inexpensive with water and electric. The somewhat shocking surprise was the recent clearing of the big old cottonwoods and locust trees that shaded the campground.  It felt quite different, and much more open, but for only a night it wasn’t bad.  On a hot day, I am sure folks would miss those trees, however the newly planted saplings will be more healthy, much safer, and will eventually shade the campsites.

The view from Deanna’s windows

Smoke at varying levels was our constant companion on the trip north, and the murky skies followed us all the way to Davenport.  Once we arrived at daughter Deanna and husband Keith’s property, the smoke cleared a bit.  Our early afternoon arrival was perfect, in time to visit before supper.

Left to Right:  Deanna, Deb, Keith, Mo

Daughter Deborah, and Grandson Matthew had arrived the previous night after driving all day from Southern Oregon.  When we got to Deanna’s everyone was having a great time cooking together and visiting.  Grandson Steven lives about an hour north, and he drove down for dinner as well with my other great-grandson Matthew.  The younger Matt became known as Matt-Two as the weekend wore on.

Theron “Tito”, Tracey, and Tearany “Squish”

On Saturday morning the rest of the family arrived, with Tracey coming from Wenatchee with 3 of my great-grandkids to spend the weekend. 

Keith and Deanna have a dog free house, but they made an exception for Mattie

Grandpa Keith with my great-grandson Orion

Left to right: Keith, Theron, Orion, Tearany, Deanna, Matt-Two

Deanna’s home is on acreage overlooking Roosevelt Lake, and there is a resident herd of bighorn sheep that help themselves to her ripe peaches and apples. 

Notice the pretty orange Kubota tractor.  Keith and Deanna purchased Mo’s trusty Kubota last summer.  We lots of photos of grandkids being driven around by Mo on that tractor when they were small.

We later made a trip back to grandsons Steven’s house to see his beautiful homestead and meet his new sweetheart.  The day was warm and sunny with the skies clearing a bit.  

Grandsons Matthew and Steven

Stormy and Steven at their home

Deanna, Deborah and Mattie checking out the chicken house at Steven’s place

With lots of food and laughter the day just seemed to flow and came to a great conclusion with a late birthday party for me and for Steven, who share the same birthdate, September 15.  It is kind of neat that my first grandchild was born on my 37th birthday.

Great-grandkids decorated our birthday cake

With lots of silliness going on, we laughed a lot at Matt-Two’s interpretation of the yoga moves that Stormy and Steven were directing. 

It was beyond wonderful having the chance to see this part of my family again.  I haven’t visited these great-grandkids for almost 3 years, since Christmas 2018, and I felt like I simply couldn’t wait any longer. I’ll treasure every single moment of this visit. 

We chose to return on Monday by way of Mo’s brother’s home in Beaverton, who has also been socially distanced with his own family bubble for several months.  We broke our bubble to share time with them as well, but opted for an outdoor supper at the local food cart parking lot on the outskirts of Portland.  It wasn’t quite as exciting as I had hoped, with the biggest cartlandia location being recently closed and many carts relocated throughout the city.  Still it was a fun evening and Dan and Chere had hookups and space available for the MoHo so we could sleep in our own space.

Silly me, I got photos of the new living room furniture at Melody’s but no people photos!

The trip south toward Grants Pass took us within three miles of Daughter Melody’s new home in Brownsville and we stopped in for an afternoon visit and lunch with her as well.  Melody is still working from home after 7 months now.  She and Robert moved into their “new” home (built in 1908) right as COVID started and she has been working from home every since.

Overall it was a wonderful trip, with a warm dose of family time to help heal the isolation that we have been living through for so very long.  And as I said, we are all OK.  Might be nothing more than pure luck, but I am glad that luck was with all of us.

07-18-2020 Great Way to End our Trip

When we planned this trip, we decided 3 nights in the mountains was just about right for being away from home during the hot summer.  We always have watering season in mind, and a low producing well requires paying attention to water levels in the well cistern and in the treated water cistern.  This time of year it is a delicate balance.  We are lucky enough to have Grandson Matthew nearby for the daily hand watering and checking of the wells, hose connections, and various levels of the system, but I hate to expect too much of him. Still, when Mo suggested that instead of driving all the way home from Cascade Lakes that we could stop off for a night at the Kla-mo-ya Casino in Chiloquin I agreed.  Another day shouldn’t make much difference and we would be home by Saturday mid day to make sure all was watered as the temperature crawled into the expected triple digits.

Confluence of Spring Creek and the Williamson River at Collier Memorial State Park

The temperatures were heating up as we left camp and drove south on Highway 97 and as we discussed boondocking at the casino, I felt hesitation creeping in.  Even if it was open, did I really want to go in and touch slot machines and eat in the restaurant?  We had been carefully social distancing for the entire trip and this suddenly felt a bit crazy to me.  It also was building toward a very hot day, and keeping the MoHo cool when it is in the low 90’s on generator power isn’t much fun, and is terribly noisy.

Site number 4 at Collier Memorial State Park

Bingo! An idea.  Why don’t we stop before Chiloquin at the lovely, shaded Collier Memorial State Park, nestled in at the confluence of the Williamson River and Spring Creek? We drove south knowing our new plan might not be feasible with all the people on the road, the fact that it was a Friday night, and that the park was no doubt fully reserved.  Still, it was worth a try.

Sure enough, when we pulled in, the camp host told us all was full and completely reserved and there would be no space for us any time that weekend.  I showed her my newly acquired disability car tag, mentioning that perhaps there was an ADA space still open?  She looked at my card and my gray hair and my walking sticks and said, “Just a minute, let me ask the Ranger.  He just drove up.”  I smiled at him, sweetly, saying, “We live in Grants Pass and are returning from Cascade Lakes and I am not sure we can drive all the way back home this late in the day.”  He talked with the camp host a bit more, and then said, “Hey, just put them in Number 4.  Why not?”  I have no idea why space number 4 was a “why not” space unless it was saved for the camp hosts for some reason.  There are 4 camp hosts in the park, all lined up at the entrance, and site 4 was next to the last camp host site.

The host was worried that there wouldn’t be room for our car, but no problem.  With a short rig and a shorter car we slid in just fine.  Within minutes we had full hookups,including a sewer dump and plenty of power to turn on the AC.  It was a welcome sound, noise and all, since things were beginning to heat up.

Our main reason for staying close to Klamath Falls was to take flowers to the cemetery where Mo’s parents are laid to rest.  We stopped off at the local Fred Meyer for some flowers and drove south to the open and quite lovely grounds.  Mo said there was water at the site, and nice heavy vases for filling.  Turns out the water was off, but a bottle in the back of the car worked fine with just enough for the flowers.

On the way home we stopped in at the Williamson River Campground about a mile north of Collier State Park along the river.  It was also very nearly full, but there were just a couple of sites that were still open for one night only.  This FS campground has no hookups, but would have sufficed for us if we hadn’t been able to get into Collier State Park.

Back home in the rig at Collier State Park, we ate the last of the home cooked meals I had prepared for our trip and settled in with cards and books for the rest of the evening. 

Collier is a lovely park, with moderately spacious sites on some loops and closer sites on others.  It is shaded by a dry pine forest, and during our visit we noticed that there was no sign of the famous mosquitoes that can be such a plague in this part of the world.

The night was pleasant and quiet, but certainly not as dark as our nights had been at Crane Prairie with a few lights marking the entrance kiosk nearby and porch lights on some of the rigs.

The next morning we had a leisurely breakfast before taking Mattie for a nice walk down to the river along the Williamson River Trail.  The river campsites are the best, along the southern end of the campground if one wants to make a reservation.  I think that like most campgrounds, if it is not in full summer season, it might be easy enough to find a spot for an overnight on a weekday.

I had forgotten how fresh and clean a dry pine forest smells.  This is a landscape similar to some that I mapped when working in the Klamath Basin, and it was fun to see familiar plants along the trail. 

Mo and I have kayaked Spring Creek in the past, but have never had our boats on the Williamson.  From the trail, the part of the Williamson that we could see looked perfect for our boats, but there are riffles and rocky shallows in parts of the river as it approached Klamath Lake that we aren’t sure about. 

Mattie was NOT interested in going swimming this time

In addition to the Williamson, Mo and I have never kayaked the Wood River which is a few miles west, and are hoping that possibly we can get on either or both of these rivers with soil scientist friend Katie, who knows both rivers fairly well.  Another plan for a future summer day. We hiked along the Williamson and the lower part of the Spring Creek Trail south of the bridge crossing Highway 97.

After our walk, we packed up for the last leg home, leaving the park around 11:30 AM.  It was a familiar trip for us, south to Chiloquin on Highway 97, and across the Wood River Valley toward Rocky Point.  Once in Rocky Point we decided it was worth it to unhook the Tracker for a little trip up Easy Street to check out our previous home nestled in the trees.  We were delighted to see that the current owners have completed a lot of big tree work.  There were several huge pines cut up and lying around on the ground, and the remaining pines and firs had been limbed to at least 30 feet above ground.  They also had lots of cute farm signs tucked around and a big pile of firewood in the front yard.  It wasn’t as gorgeous as it was when Mo had her beautiful lawns but at least it looked cared for.  It still looks like the owners are using it as a second home, which makes me wonder if they will ever leave their million dollar house in the Bay Area for life in Rocky Point.

It was an excellent trip, and ended on a nice note as we drove around Rocky Point recounting old memories.  It was even nicer to get back to Sunset House in Grants Pass, where the air conditioning had turned on as scheduled.  I have finally decided that it is our wood floors that make the house smell so incredibly good after we return after being away for a time.  That first waft of air as we open up the door is such pleasure.

In addition to managing to get in and out of the kayak, I discovered that I could manage a decent flat trail for almost 3 miles if I had my walking sticks.  Very encouraging for me.

Not sure what comes next for us.  We are back to our daily life of watering the gardens, working on small projects that are pleasing but not terribly intense, enjoying a good supper before settling in to some truly entertaining Netflix evening entertainment.  Getting hooked on a series now and then isn’t a bad thing during this time of quiet isolation at home.

October 11, 12, 13, 14 2018 Our last days in Firenze

Thursday, October 11

After all we did in the last few days, it was good to stay home for a day and try to recuperate.  There were enough provisions in the apartment for dinner, breakfasts, and snacks, with half a bottle of wine as well.  It rained all day, so was a perfect time to simply hang out, do photos, and relax a bit with no agenda. 

We settled onto the terrace as the rain let up toward evening and enjoyed the last of our wine while we made phone calls home.  I talked to Mo and Deborah, and Deanna called her husband, Keith.  WiFi calling works well on my Galaxy S9 phone.  We haven’t turned the phones off of airplane mode even once on this trip, and yet still enjoy excellent quality “real” phone calls.  Such a treat. 

Friday, October 12

We enjoyed another good breakfast at home, with eggs with cream cheese and zucchini, our favorite potatoes sliced up and sautéed, and Nescafe, our daily home coffee fix. Worked diligently on photos for a time before embarking on a mid day walk.  We decided to go back toward the part of town we visited on our first day here to buy some groceries for the our couple of days, to exchange a few US dollars since we are out of euros, and get back home in time to prepare for an evening on the town.

We enjoyed the quick walk to the main street on this side of the river, toward the east where we went the first day here. Found the meat market/grocery combo just in time before it closed for afternoon siesta, had a gelato at the nice little place nearby, bought something that looked like pizza but was tastier than most, with tomatoes and zucchini, our standby foods while in Italy.

What was most fun about this particular walk was how lost I was.  Even with the GPS on the phone, I couldn’t get my bearings.  Somehow everything seemed to be in the wrong place and didn’t match up with my memories of our first day walking around in this area.  It was especially funny to both of us because I am the map maker with a great sense of direction and Deanna has no clue which way is north or south. Yet she knew exactly where we were and where to find the Carni! Made for some funny moments for the two of us.

Before coming to Italy, thanks again to Two to Travel friends Erin and Mui, I learned about The Three Tenors performing n the auditorium of Santo Stefano. In the heart of Florence, just steps from Ponte Vecchio, Santo Stefano al Ponte is a church built in 1100 that was deconsecrated and reopened to the public in 2015 as exhibition space. Deanna purchased tickets for us online several months ago.  At the time we decided that this might be a nice way to end our Italian visit and chose to see the show toward the end of our time in Italy.

The day was a bit chilly, and we planned to walk the mile or so along the river rather than taking a taxi.  After watching people walking around our neighborhood after dark for the last couple of weeks, we were no longer concerned about walking home when the show was over.

We were, however, a bit worried about the chill.  We both wore jammie bottoms under our skirts, and long sleeves under our dressy tops.  The night was absolutely perfect, with no rain to cause any problems, and a slight breeze to keep us comfortable in all those extra clothes.  It was a lovely walk, and we arrived a bit early, in time for an apertivo before the show at a little bar in the church piazza.

Deanna had purchased VIP seats, so we had a perfect view and great acoustics from our forward location in the church. We did know, of course, that the Three Tenors were not the original “Three Tenors”, but the music was wonderful.  Amazing music emerged from the the mouths of those three men, no microphones, all acoustic with the tall chamber of the church amplifying it perfectly. Just amazing.

Once again, the song “Time to Say Goodbye” brought tears to my eyes. I can’t believe that stupid song made me cry again. There is no reason whatsoever for it to affect me so, except the beautiful melody itself. I have no connection at all to the song, no memories generated from it or anything, but the melody is just so incredibly beautiful it always makes me teary. The three men sang in Italian, lots of songs we didn’t know, some opera, and some old favorite songs that were also famous in America made popular by Dean Martin. It was a delightful experience.

Friday night on the Ponte Vecchio.  I guess it is the same no matter where you go

Our walk home was wonderful, breezy and cool but not chilly.  We walked through the Ponte Vecchio with all the shops closed but still many people enjoying the river and the evening camaraderie.  There was a busker playing “Proud Mary” and then Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here”, and he was really really good! I guess the song choice indicates the audience of tourists. The walk home felt perfectly safe, with lots of people strolling and eating at the restaurants. We had no reason to worry at all about walking at night in this part of town at 1030 PM.

Saturday October 13

We were excited to visit the Pitti Palace and Boboli Gardens.  The guidebooks all lauded the beautiful gardens as a wonderful respite from the city, and the Pitti Palace as a place filled with the over the top examples of the kind of luxury afforded by one of the wealthiest families in the world, the Medici. 

We saved this excursion for Saturday, hoping the rain would lighten up enough that we could enjoy the gardens.  The day dawned beautifully, and we once again walked the mile toward the Ponte Vecchio, then turning south toward Piazza Pitti.

The piazza was crowded and the lines were long.  There are several things to see that are part of the complex, and once we looked at all the options, we decided that there was no need to see one more fancy palace with lots of rich stuff.  Instead we opted for focusing on the gardens.

Here is an example of the flowery words that led us to this decision.

“More than a garden, more than just a “green lung” in Florence, the Boboli gardens are one of the greatest open-air museums in Florence that embraces another site of culture in Florence, the Pitti Palace. The park hosts centuries-old oak trees, sculptures, fountains and offers peaceful shelter from the warm Florentine sun in summer, the beautiful colors of the changing foliage in the fall and smells of blooming flowers in the spring. The Boboli gardens are a spectacular example of “green architecture” decorated with sculptures and the prototype which inspired many European Royal gardens, in particular, Versailles.”

Sadly, the reality left a lot to be desired.  The first hint of what was to follow were the Medici Fountains at the entrance to the gardens.  The sculptures were filthy, covered in dust, and bleeding black mold .  Cherubs floated in the dirty water inside the dingy grotto.  Ok then.
Walking through the gates and up the stairs beyond the entrance led us to more sculptures lining the paths, again covered with black mold and looking very old and unkept.  It was terribly disappointing.
We withheld judgment for a time, following the maps and trails, searching for fountains and sculptures and views.  There were a few charming spots, but most of the gardens consist of huge very old shrubs that are meticulously manicured.  Too bad whomever is in charge of the place didn’t attempt to clean it up a bit rather than just cut back all those shrubs.
There was no color, with fall leaves already gone and not a flower in sight. The lawns are not watered, and were brown and scrubby. I have seen many winter gardens that are incredibly charming and colorful, that are designed well and a delight to visit no matter how drab the weather.  This was not one of those places.  It was very claustrophobic, and we wandered the paths looking for something to lift our spirits to no avail.
At the upper end of the gardens we found a viewpoint, and the other attraction included in our ticket, the Porcelain Museum.  The view from the rose garden was the nicest part of the Boboli, and yet even there, there were no flowers and everything looked tired and not very well cared for.

Deanna found a few faded roses in the upper rose garden

We were a bit sad that our last adventure in the great city of Florence should be such a disappointment.  Maybe we were just tired, or maybe overloaded, who knows. We did know that after days and days of so much input, our tiredness seemed to accumulate a little bit more each day. After leaving the gardens, we ambled a bit through Pitti Piazza, checking out the booths selling tourist wares, and then ambled back past the Ponte Vecchio toward home.  Once again, the busy, noisy, and full restaurants we passed didn’t tempt us much and we enjoyed cooking a great supper of fresh cut pork, fresh tomatoes, and a great bottle of inexpensive wine.

Written on Sunday, October 14 our last day in Firenze:
(I didn’t edit this original text from my journal so you could get a sense for how we were feeling)

It is our last day in Firenze, tomorrow morning we will leave “A Birdseye View” and take a taxi to Santa Novella for the train to Naples. Neither of us is looking forward to tomorrow, and yet both of us are basically DONE. At one time or another this afternoon, one or the other of us said, “I want to be hooooommmmmme”. Deanna was looking at photos of her beautiful property in Northern Washington, a photo Keith sent today of gorgeous sunshine and the beautiful view over the river. Unlike me, she is not retired, and when she returns she will only get a short 3 days at the property in Lincoln, and then will have to get back out on the road in the big truck, crossing the country hauling jet engines all over the place so people like us can travel all over the place.

We are tired. We keep making excuses to each other on this, our last day, for not getting out of our jammies and at least going downstairs to view the lovely Sunday sunshine and watch people walking along the river. We stayed inside, worked on packing up our stuff, and ate simple breakfast.  We thought about going out to dinner, and instead cooked up the last of our pasta, garnishing it with the last of Sara’s tomato sauce, the last of our olives, and made another side of sliced tomatoes in olive oil and balsamic. Traditional Italian fare that has served us well.

We thought about walking up to Michelangelo Square for one last look at the city or going for an evening walk along the river for one last view, but decided again that we have done enough, we don’t need that one last view at all, we need instead to lie here in the almost comfortable sofa bed, look at photos and Facebook, play stupid Candy Crush and wait impatiently for it to get late enough to go to sleep.

Late in the afternoon a thunderstorm rolled over the city and we were glad we weren’t out walking somewhere. Neither of us slept well again last night, and the last few days have recorded at most 3 or 4 hours sleep on our watches. Ugh. Tonight will be the rare sleeping pill for both of us. When can we take it? When can we go to sleep??? We do have a good reason, since the next two days will be long and grueling.

On a happy note, however, the middle photo in this collage is the ceramic piece I returned to purchase on the way home from Boboli Gardens.  Shipped direct from Italy home, it arrived safe and sound.  The photo on the left is where Deanna found her keepsake ceramics in Siena, and the one on the right is where I found a sweet small watercolor in Siena as well.