Abby – Page 5 – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

Sep 8 A day at the beach

Maybe we were a bit optimistic when we thought we could just amble off to the Oregon Coast without worrying about planning ahead. After all, September and October are the best months of the year on the coast, and all those folks who know about the summer fogs have been waiting for the warm sunny skies predicted for this week.

When we left Rocky Point and traveled to Grants Pass before turning west on Highway 199 the skies were filled with smoke from fires nearby and far away. The temperature climbed as we dropped down into the valley, and as we passed the Valley of the Rogue State Park along I-5 the thermometer read a blistering 102 degrees. I thought of the Gypsy G-Mas, Connie and Tracy, as we managed to stay cool with the windows closed and the air conditioner going full blast. Last I heard, they were camping in this lovely park, although not quite so lovely on this incredibly hot September day.

The western route through the Illinois Valley is a familiar one to us. The winding curves that follow the Smith River in California to Highway 101 don’t seem at all scary any more. As the miles passed, we watched the temperature gauge drop steadily. Turning north toward Brookings, I could smell the ocean and the hot sun was gentled by a misty fog drifting from the ocean to the surrounding hills.

When we arrived at Harris Beach State Park, we were met by a sign stating that all electric sites were taken and the only available sites were for tents or rigs less than 20 feet. The attendant was a bit concerned, but she decided to let us try to slide into one of those sites. The MoHo fit just fine, with the Tracker parked sideways with ALL FOUR WHEELS ON THE PAVEMENT! Yes, those are the rules. The other rule is that no generators are allowed in the park, ever.

It was after 7 by the time we settled in, but supper wasn’t a problem because we had grilled chicken and cucumbers in vinaigrette while we drove down the road. Setting up the rig without hookups is an easy thing as well, and after a nice long walk through the campground we settled in for a cool moonlit night of reading and early to sleep.

The attendant was concerned that we were officially too long for the spot and told us to come in at 10 the next morning to see if there was anything available. Seems as though the park is almost completely filled every night this week. Waking to fog this morning wasn’t a surprise, and after tea we drove into town to get a few groceries, check out the potential storage place, and take a short drive up the Chetco River. There is another state park about 7 miles east away from the ocean and the sun was out. We both were in a beach mood however, and decided that if there wasn’t anything at Harris Beach we would go down to the Beachfront RV Park, right along the ocean, rigs lined up in a row on pavement, with a bit of dry grass, but full hookups.

After ten, back at Harris Beach, the new attendant at the window was skeptical about anything available for the next 3 days, but then as an afterthought decided to give us a site that is usually saved for last minute overflow. We got a site with electric, water, and great cable TV all the way through the weekend. Once again, everything worked out just fine.

The move across the park was a snap, and within minutes we were set up comfortably, and enjoying our space. I even opened up the awning and put up the chili pepper lights that I haven’t had a chance to use for a very long time! After lunch we took Abby for a long walk down the South Beach Trail to the ocean.

The fog was still drifting about, lifting a bit now and then, but never completely going away. In spite of the fog it was quite warm, and we could have worn shorts and skipped the jackets. It was surprising how much warmer it was down on the beach than is it a couple of hundred feet above the cliffs in the park. We had a great time with Abby, and for the first time she decided that going for her ball in the ocean waves wasn’t as scary as she thought. We found some brackish backwater for her to practice, and then Mo started throwing the ball toward the surf and Abby went right after it. Before our walk was finished, Abby was going right into the waves after her ball, and only once did a wave catch her and throw her around a little bit. It was great fun.

Tomorrow is wide open for relaxation, walks and one more special treat. Tracy and Connie are just north of us at Cape Blanco and plan to come down tomorrow afternoon for a meet and a visit. I’m tickled that we again have a chance to meet some fellow bloggers. Tracy and Connie have a great story, deciding to go full time and live a life outside the box. I have followed them for some time now and am looking forward to hearing some of their stories in person.

As early evening settles over the park, the skies are clearing and the sun is shining brilliantly. Tonight the moon is nearly full. Mo has a great big campfire going with wood we bought here at the campground. Crossing from Oregon to California with firewood is frowned upon so we paid the pricey 5 bucks a bundle to follow the rules and use local wood. I am so happy to be at the beach again.

A few more photos of our day at Harris Beach are linked here.

August 28 Sunday Camping at Silver Falls State Park

It has been less than two weeks since we returned from our long trek to Alaska, but a short three day jaunt to a beautiful Oregon State Park seemed just so simple. We planned this trip for a couple of reasons: For one, we loved Silver Falls when we visited in the spring of 2010. The real reason for the trip, however, was to see the dahlias in full bloom during the Swan Island Dahlia Festival nearby in Canby.

I grew hundreds of dahlias at one time, selling cut flowers at a weekend farmers market along with my dried flower bouquets and fresh herbs. It was a good time in my life, but oh sooo much work. Here at Rocky Point, I don’t have much opportunity to grow dahlias, although I still plan to at least try. Mo and I plan to downsize by 2020 or so, and my one request is that we do so in a place where I can putter in a real garden with a real growing season and grow dahlias.

As we readied for the short trip, 255 miles total, everything seemed just incredibly simple. The MoHo was spotless and lovely, and I only needed clothes for three days and two nights. With the temperatures predicted for the area in the mid 80’s, shorts were in order, and I didn’t even bother with sweats or long pants. (Oops, we live in Oregon for pete’s sake!). Food was simple as well, just two dinners, a couple of breakfasts, and some hiking food for daytime. Gee. We were loaded and ready to go in no time. After the long preparations for the Alaska trip, this was such a delight.

We took our time getting on the road, enjoying the warm, sunny morning. Dressed in shorts and sleeveless tops, we were glad to have returned home to Oregon in August to enjoy what Laurie and Odel called the “elusive Oregon summer”. Yes, it IS elusive at times, but less so on the east side of the mountains where we live.

Fire is a given in the west, and as we crossed the Wood River Valley just north of home and the Upper Klamath NWR, there was smoke evident to the east and north from the many fires ignited in Central Oregon over the past couple of weeks. The route is familiar and a bit boring at times, especially north on Highway 97. The soils are deep pumice from the eruption of Crater Lake (Mt Mazama) more than 7,000 years ago, and the vegetation is dry lodgepole and ponderosa pine. Only after the route rises to Willamette Pass does the timber begin to thicken and darken to lush Oregon green.

The Willamette Valley is the heart of Oregon, even though the actual area is very small when compared to the entire state. Eugene is the largest city south of Portland in this valley, and as we entered Eugene we noticed the brown pall of smoke in the air from burning fields of blue grass, from dust rising from busy plows, and yes, from cars. I think that is actually smog, although being raised in Southern California I do know that real smog is a bit uglier than what we found on the Eugene skyline.

By the time we got to the park, it was evident that even on a Sunday afternoon, this was a very popular place. I am glad that we made a reservation back in April, since the park was completely filled for the entire week! It was warm and sunny, and we were glad for a shady site with power and water to enjoy the late afternoon. Jeremy was really anxious to get out of the rig and explore, and I put on his fancy city harness and he was out of the rig before I could get down the steps. He is funny, sitting quietly for the harness, and the minute the last snap is done he jumps down to the door knowing it it time! Even at 15 years old, I think he might want to explore farther than I would want, so I keep him harnessed when we are camping for safety.

As the evening progressed, we took the beautiful paved bike trail to the dog exercise area, a special treat in a state park because this one if for dogs off leash! To our surprise, on this warm Sunday evening, there were no dogs there. Families were everywhere, with children playing in the swimming area along the Silver River, bbq’s going at every picnic table, volleyball and soccer games in progress. The park is within easy driving distance of Salem, Albany, and even Portland, and from what we saw on this Sunday afternoon, it is a popular place to spend a Sunday.

The presence of huge, extended families with grandmas, grandpas, babies, aunts and uncles, all enjoying the afternoon together was heartening. Most of these families were speaking languages we didn’t know, but with the din of so many conversations that really didn’t matter. The language of a park on a Sunday afternoon is universal, after all. We had a great time letting Abby run uphill, hoping to wear her out. Later in the day, we expected to have to leave her in the rig while we hiked the waterfall trails where dogs are not allowed.

The Silver River was low at this time of year, and I was surprised to see just how lovely the falls looked even with less water. The stream slips over South Falls in a clear, wispy ribbon, much different from the crashing torrent we experienced in April last year. The trails were full of families, dads carrying babies in backpacks, grandpas with canes (me with my walking sticks!)

One more time I did a stupid crash, this time thank goodness without the camera in my hands! Stepping out of the MoHo I missed the step and bent the weak ankle one more time in a direction it doesn’t particularly like and went down. I know to hold on to the door handle, and had a good grip, so didn’t go all the way down. Mo laughed again, saying I must have bones of steel because with all these stupid falls I don’t seem to break anything. Who knows what that is about. This time again, it was a big divot I didn’t see because it was UNDER our entry rug. Sigh. Hold on tight and keep your eyes down, I guess.

We chose a camp on the A loop again, but it was more open than I might have liked. Our neighbors were right behind us, with their campfire so close to our back window that I had to close the night shade all the time so they couldn’t see inside. Our fire was far enough forward in the site that we could sit there without being in their back pocket, and we were glad that the folks directly on our other side seemed to be indoor types, so we had a bit of space to ourselves. I couldn’t believe how many kids were in that campground, and dogs, and bikes. It was some kind of biking heaven, I guess, with tiny little kids on trainers with helmets bigger than they were. The sound of screaming, laughing kids and barking dogs was almost deafening.

So often, in this lifestyle, we hang with retired folks in sedate RV campgrounds that are quiet and calm. We are retired ourselves, and live in a community that is composed mostly of retired folks or summer visitors. My grandkids are all teenagers now, and as I sat at our campfire watching all those kids, I realized just how insulated we can be from the din of family life. Have I used the word “din” a lot? Hmmm. Sunday afternoon at Silver Falls State Park was a lovely and noisy place.

Next: the dahlia show!

The rest of the photos are linked here

Day 15 July 20 Playing in Fairbanks

We woke this morning to gorgeous sunny skies and warm temperatures. I had reserved our tickets for the Discovery the night before online. One nice thing about the paved parking lot at Pioneer Park was free, fast WiFi! I uploaded lots of photos and caught up on previous blog posts with abandon, and for a minute was even ahead of the game. Of course, that wouldn’t last for long and I am actually writing this final catch-up post from our rainy camp in Talkeetna.

Our plans for the morning were to drive the Chena Springs Road and then return to go as far north on the Steese Highway toward the Dalton Highway as we could manage and still make our 2PM boat cruise. The drive was beautiful, and paid off with a leisurely visit with a young bull moose munching away at a river crossing.

We traveled as far as the Chena Hot Springs resort, checked it out a bit and then returned the same way to the Teese Highway. Along the way we stopped along the river Abby play time.

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Once back on the Teese Highway, we marveled at the wonderful views from the ski area north of town and stopped for photos of the Alaska Pipeline.

Later in the evening, after our boat ride on the Discovery (a separate post) we visited the Aurora Ice Museum in downtown Fairbanks for the digital wide screen photo symphony of the northern lights, produced by LeRoy Zimmerman. Before the show we saw amazing ice sculptures lit by colorful lights and had a few moments to watch an ice sculptor in action. It was definitely a bit of touristy action but the photos were beautiful and even though they were still images, the transitions gave the feeling of movement and the lights looked very much like what I have seen in the night skies above Edmonton, and even from my hot tub in Rocky Point. The photos were presented accompanied by lovely classical music. Try staying awake after a day like ours in a dark theater listening to Leibestraum!

The rest of the photos of our explorations around Fairbanks are linked here

Miles traveled in the MoHo today: 0

Miles traveled in the Tracker: 102

Road condition: Another great two lane paved highway with joints and an occasional frost heave

Day 12 July 17 Dawson City

Dawson City. As I sit here a day later trying to express what we felt about Dawson, I am at a loss for words. Disneyesque? Tourist Town? Another destination for cruise ships? Dawson Berry Farm? (aka Knotts Berry Farm)? For all those lovers of Dawson, I apologize. It wasn’t quite what we thought it might be. Of course, it may have been because we arrived during the annual July Dawson Music Festival that the town was so crowded, or because of the several huge Holland America busses there as well.

Dawson from Mo’s 1974 photos

I think Mo was a bit more surprised than I was, because she saw Dawson more than 30 years ago, when it was truly an old historic town full of crazy old buildings and history. This time, for her the whole place was just too slick and shiny, too much a destination “thing”. Today, however, we were blessed with gorgeous weather to walk the town, and watch the myriad types of people doing the same.

There were many young people, some we spoke to from Yellowknife and Fairbanks, alternative type kids with dreds and beards, backpacking and hitch hiking out of town after the music, friendly and polite and fun to talk to. While sitting on a bench with Abby, waiting for me to check out a gallery, Mo visited with a woman from the Holland America cruise ship bus, touring Alaska by boat, bus, and train, and having a great time. She was from Henderson, Kentucky, and wanted the chance to see Dawson in the snow, for just two days or so. We had fun talking about the beautiful hardwood forests of Henderson and the Audubon Park that we visited last fall.

Today, after a beautiful quiet night ten miles east of town at our campground,Klondike River CG Yukon Parks, we decided that in order to avoid the caravan of 20 motorhomes crossing the Yukon tomorrow morning, we would forfeit our prepaid camp fees for tonight and leave for the Top of the World this afternoon. With that decision made, we both felt better about our visit to Dawson. There really wasn’t enough here for us to see to warrant a two day visit as originally planned.

Yes, there is a lot to see. There is the ride on the Yukon on the sternwheeler, a great thing to do if you have a spare 120 Canadian for two people. There are the dancing girls at Gertie’s, and the gambling, neither of which particularly interested us this time around. We skipped the Follies in Whitehorse, thinking that we would enjoy the funkier version in Dawson. Seems as though they no longer have a Follies show in Dawson, and Gertie’s Dancing Girls are the replacement. Three shows a night, ten bucks a show, lasts half an hour, great costumes according to the visitor center people. Last night we had no desire to drive back to town for contrived night life at 8:30 to jostle for a first come first serve show.

We filled the MoHo at the only gas station open for 5.49 per US gallon and backtracked to the road leading to Dredge No.4, a Canada Historic Site down the road to the gold discovery site that started the whole thing. We saw the first wildlife since Arctic ground squirrels when a small fox crossed the road in front of us with breakfast dangling from his mouth.

Placer mining is familiar to me. I did soil survey in Murray, Idaho, another historic placer mining district, with valleys filled in with placer tailings. In Columbia, California, heart of the gold country, I mapped soils developed on 150 year old piles of the chemical mix left over from hydraulic mining. I wear gold, I use metal as we all do, mining is a necessary thing, but what is left from the mining industry is daunting to me. The landscape here at Dawson looked incredibly familiar to me, even though I had never been here. We saw some signs in town saying, “Placer Mining Supports This Store and This Store Supports Placer Mining”. Of course, mining is the heart and soul of Dawson and of the Yukon. Important stuff. Necessary. The sign made me think that there are probably some folks out there taking issue with the mining. As always, it is challenging to find some kind of balance.

Walking around town for a couple of hours taking photos was perfect for us. There was a beautiful city garden full of huge delphiniums along the river, and flowers everywhere throughout town. Some of the buildings were painted in Technicolor and others were crafted of old tin and weathered boards. The visitor center was beautiful, a replica of the old HBC building that stood there at one time. We certainly didn’t see everything or do everything. There are many blogs out there filled with great stories of fun in Dawson City where I can go read all about what I didn’t do some winter evening when I am back reviewing my own take on visiting Dawson.

I loved the Yukon River. I loved the magical line between muddy Yukon water and clear green water from the Klondike as the rivers merged along the waterfront. I loved the power of the Yukon River, and looking at it, I loved imagining it’s winding course to the Bering Sea in the north. I loved reading about how it once flowed south until the continental glaciers turned it northward. I loved the flowers and the brilliant sunshine that again came out for us in Dawson. I loved the crazy mix of people.

Would I ever need to see Dawson again? Probably not. I bought a small copy of Jack London’s Call of the Wild. His house is here is Dawson, among other authors of north country lore. Hadn’t read that book since high school, and read it while I watched the moon come up in the midnight twilight of the Yukon when I couldn’t sleep. The book was written in 1903 and the names of places throughout the book rang true to me, places we had driven yesterday on the Klondike, Perry Crossing, the Stewart River, others that meant nothing to me as I read the book so many years ago, now ringing with a different sort of familiarity.

Dawson City. Mythical town of the Klondike Gold Rush, all dressed up for the 21st century.

Many photos from this day are linked here.

Miles traveled this morning 0

Coming Next: Everything changes at the Top of the World

Can you leave the MoHo at home to go on a picnic?

For several days now the weatherman has hinted at lovely spring weather just over the horizon, and we thought it would be great to take a day trip and just enjoy the sun and warmth. It’s been such a long, cold spring, with very little sunshine. With a 70 degree forecast for last Sunday I decided that a nice little road trip to explore the Applegate Valley and Jacksonville would be fun. We woke to gray, cloudy skies and a thermometer that struggled to get to 50 degrees. Around 11 there was a bit of a break and we decided to make the break ourselves and go for it. I made egg salad sandwiches and loaded up our backpack picnic kit with wine, chips, and cherries, and we jumped into the Lexus for a comfortable car trip over the mountain.
Even though it was cloudy all day, we had a good time and enjoyed doing something different for a change from gardening and working around home. Although we do drive to Medford fairly often, there are some side trips around Southern Oregon that we still haven’t seen. The Applegate Valley is one of those trips. The route took us over 140 as usual, but we left the main highway to travel through Eagle Point and then took another side road from Eagle Point through Gold Hill to avoid the standard Interstate 5 route to Grants Pass and the beginning of the Applegate Valley Trail.
The trees on the west side are fully leafed out now, with myriad shades of verdant green. Most of the flowering trees are past their prime bloom while those we have at home are just barely starting. I think Rocky Point is at least a full month behind the Medford area when it comes to the spring season. We ambled along Highway 234 west through the Sams Valley, crossing the Rogue River with a stop for photos of a local bridge.
The river was running wild and full to it’s banks, but even with all our rain this year, I haven’t heard much about flooding. Continuing west through Gold Hill, we found ourselves in the midst of some kind of “Gold Hill Days” with the main street north completely closed off by vendors and booths and many antique cars. If it had been a bit easier to park, and if the day had been sunny and warm, we may have allowed ourselves to digress from our planned destination and check out the events. Instead, we routed back over the river and under the interstate to wander peacefully along meandering old Highway 99 until we reached the turnoff for the Applegate Valley just south of Grants Pass.
The Applegate Valley Wine Trail is one of Oregon’s newest “appellations”, with a climate that is warmer and drier than much of the Willamette Valley wine areas. The vineyards follow the river along the higher stream terraces and support Chardonnay, Syrah, and some Bordeaux red wines. Oregon is famous for some of its Pinot Noir’s, so the valley offers something a bit different. Mo and I enjoy good wine, but sometimes the pretentious aspect of “wine tasting” will keep us from dropping into these little wineries. This time was no different, we drove by the beautiful signs, enjoyed the gorgeous views, and enjoyed the ride without stopping for a taste. I think that sometime I would enjoy touring the wineries with friends, or even with a group. Our summer neighbors in Rocky Point often travel this route and come home with cases of really good wine. I think we may go with them sometime to get our wine tasting feet wet. Except for our little foray in the Finger Lakes District of New York last fall, the last time I really did some extensive wine tasting was in the Napa Valley back when the pours were free!
Of course, I have no such reservations when it comes to nurseries. Near the tiny town of Murphy, we passed a riot of color along the highway and within seconds, Mo whipped around and we checked out the most beautiful nursery full of hanging baskets I have seen in years. The owners were wonderful about me walking around taking photos, but I still felt I should at least buy something token to thank them for just being there. She laughed when I told her we were from Klamath Falls, since she had raised her children in Klamath, and was really loving her long growing season there along the Applegate. I left with some perfect fuchsias for the baskets waiting at home for sunnier, warmer weather.
After a nice stop for Abby on their grassy lawns (doggie bags of course!) we continued down the highway south toward Ruch and Applegate Lake.
Another thing that Oregon is noted for are the covered bridges throughout the state. There are several along many of the routes that we drive, and some folks even make a tour of seeing them all. South of Ruch, only eight miles north of the California border, is Oregon’s southernmost span, the McKee Bridge. Built in 1917 by John Hartman of Jacksonville, it served mainly for mining and logging traffic until 1956 when it was finally declared unsafe for vehicular travel. In the early 1980’s, townsfolk were troubled by the strength of the bridge, and in 1985 more than $40,000 was dedicated to repair the bridge and keep it open for pedestrians.
The bridge has a 122 foot span, 45 feet above the Applegate River and is supported by a Howe truss with beautiful flying buttresses. The scenic little park, built by the CCC in the 1930’s nestles into the west bank of the river by the bridge. An amazing special touch were the wooden panels installed on the original bridge siding, specifically dedicated to folks who wanted to add their own touch to the bridge, aka graffiti. The best part was that the graffiti was actually confined to the dedicated boards!
It was here that we found a perfect place to pull out the sandwiches and wine. I guess I should have taken photos of the signs posted on nearly every single tree and table and fence post, proclaiming loudly in capital letters, NO ALCOHOL. Thank goodness I don’t have as many readers as Al, who was lashed for talking about lemons, or Rick, who was castigated for doggie’s off leash, because I opened my bottle of wine and poured it into the little plastic picnic glasses with relish. We sat by the river at the substantial old picnic table for a long time, enjoying the water and our lunch. We were even treated to watching a couple of folks walk down to the river, drop in their lines, and seeing a good sized trout jumping on that line after the first cast!
After relaxing, walking, eating and just enjoying the park and bridge, the hour was getting late, but we didn’t want to miss a visit to Applegate Lake, just south toward the California line. So much of the history of the Applegate River and valley are associated with gold discovery, and gold mining, and there are still many folks who dredge parts of the Applegate River for gold. On the banks of the lake, which is dammed, are several campgrounds, and we wanted to check them out. The day was still cloudy and dark, and the campgrounds were very nearly empty. We saw one park, right on the lake, that was basically an asphalt parking lot on the beach and could only imagine just how crowded it might be in summer. The other two parks weren’t very rig friendly and too far from the water’s edge to comfortably carry down our kayaks. It might be fine to go to the parking lot campground early on a weekday in the summer to try kayaking the lovely lake with it’s complex shoreline.
The rain didn’t start up until we drove through Ruch on the way to Jacksonville. I love Jacksonville, an historic little town with shops and restaurants and beautiful trees. The Britt Festival is held here each summer, and Mo and I have been to many great shows on the lawns of Britt. Today, however, we just drove through, deciding to save more explorations of Jacksonville for the last of summer Whole Town Garage Sale. Jacksonville is lovely, and also very expensive. The homes are either new and gorgeous, or old and even more gorgeous, and I swoon over the perfectly restored Craftsman bungalows, many of them which serve as Bed and Breakfast establishments.
By the time we got back to Rocky Point it was late evening, still light thanks to the summer twilight, but late nonetheless. I was glad that we made our little trip in the “big car”, rather than in the little tow car. The Lexus comes out for special occasions and local trips, but will never be towed behind the motorhome! It’s comfortable and roomy, although I have to say that the big leather seats in the MoHo are my favorite. That’s a good thing, since within less than a month we will be embarking on our Alaska journey and I will be in those seats for several weeks!