restaurants – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

10-08-2018 Day 14 Two Days in Siena

When planning our trip to Italy, Deanna and I decided that rather than trying to see too much, we would focus on two completely different worlds. The southern coast of Amalfi was full of mountains, ocean, picturesque towns tumbling like blocks down the limestone cliffs, and warm sunshine.

Tuscany is a place that calls to many people, helped out by movies like “Under the Tuscan Sun” and “A Good Year”. I wanted to see Tuscany, but I also wanted to see Florence. Florence is not exactly in the middle of the Tuscan countryside, but it makes a great jumping off point, lying on the northern perimeter between the Tuscan hills and the landscapes of Umbria farther north.

We decided to stay in Florence but to use it as our jumping off point for possible tours into the Tuscan countryside. Options were many, from expensive day trips using a private driver, overcrowded day trips on tour buses, overnight stays at “Agriturissimo’s”, local farms that usually include feeding cows and chickens and experiencing the Tuscan farm life.

Once again, the Rick Steve’s Florence and Tuscany guide book came to the rescue. We opted to spend a couple of days in Siena, a reasonable distance just 43 miles south of Florence using public transportation, the Sita bus from Florence to Siena. Following Rick Steve’s advice, we booked a room at a small hotel, Albergo Tre Donzelle, just a couple of blocks from the famous Piazza del Campo. According to the guidebooks it is especially nice to spend a night in the city and enjoy it after the day trippers leave and the crowds thin out a bit. Something impossible to do on a day trip.

On Monday morning we rose early and packed up our small cases for the overnight trip. We opted to walk to the Santa Novella bus station which was about 1.5 miles from our apartment rather than paying for a taxi. Leaving home on foot around 9 am gave us ample time to walk along the river and through town. We didn’t bother to attempt to get to the station at any particular time, knowing that the Siena buses ran every 45 minutes or so.

Figuring out the bus station wasn’t too difficult. Finding the ticket line, we purchased round trip tickets for the Siena Rapida, rather than the local bus that would have several stops on the hour long route. The Rapida left just as we finished purchasing our tickets, but that was OK since we were first in line for the next bus 45 minutes later. In the mean time we returned to a little café that we had passed earlier and purchased a “stand-up” coffee and a pastry. The morning was chilly and holding the hot coffee felt great.

Getting on the bus was as usual for Italian buses, fighting people even though we were first in line. Once we got on the bus with our hot coffees in hand, we settled into our roomy and comfy seats wondering where the cup holders might be. Instead we found a sign, “No Food Or Drinks Allowed”. Hiding our cups under the seat, one of them tipped over and we hastily tried to hide the evil evidence. UhOh. No one seemed to notice and we didn’t get kicked off the bus.

The drive to Siena wasn’t as scenic as we had imagined, with the road down in a draw most of the way, surrounded by lots of shrubby trees and brush. It was surprising to me how much this part of Italy reminded me of brushy Sierra Nevada Foothills, or Arkansas hardwood forests, quite claustrophobic. Instead of the rolling golden hills I had imagined, the landscape was thick with scrub oaks and brush. Only rarely would we catch a glimpse of what I had envisioned as “Tuscany”. The highway was quick and modern, in good condition, and I could envision easily driving in this part of Italy.

Thick vegetation covers the Tuscan hills on the southern edge of Florence

When we arrived at the station in Siena we used the offline google maps again to get our bearings. The bus station isn’t located in the main part of town, but the city center is within walking distance.

A side note: We took so many vertical shots in the town that I have decided to use some collages since vertical shots don’t work that well in the blog. If you click on any of those shots, it will take you to the smug mug folder where the original photos are located. Only if you are interested.

This Tuscan hill town will transport you back to the Middle Ages. Siena’s grand cathedral, built in the 1200s, has treasured artworks and marvelous marble floors. The Piazza del Campo, the main town square, is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It’s also home to the Palio, perhaps the most infamous horserace in the world. No hats or juleps at this race. This is a medieval tradition involving bareback riders racing on cobblestones (so as you might imagine, it’s quite dangerous). Check out this video of the famous race!

As we headed toward town and our hotel, we passed the Siena Duomo. Italy is filled with gorgeous cathedrals and the Duomo is one of the best. This church is striped with white and black marble both inside and out, giving it a unique and somewhat dramatic appearance. Continuing on down the narrow and quite busy streets, we passed a little restaurant that looked quite charming but decided to find our hotel before stopping for lunch

The hotel was just another block away, easy to find, and check in was simple. The proprietor was friendly and charming, and when we asked about a place to eat, he told about Taverna Di Cecco, the restaurant we had passed earlier. He said Di Cecco was best for our Bistecca, a Tuscan treat we had decided to enjoy in Sienna rather than Florence.

While the hotel was charming, the room was small with a window that looked out to a tight courtyard surrounded by very tall walls. The bed was as we have discovered in Italy, hard as a rock. Sigh. We unpacked and walked back to Di Cecco for a late lunch, thinking maybe we could spend the rest of the afternoon and evening walking off what we knew would be a huge meal.

With lovely service in the small but delightful restaurant, we had our best meal in Italy. Our traditional Tuscan Porterhouse steak, 1 full kilo, cooked to perfection and seasoned with coarse salt and rosemary was the best steak I have had anywhere. We shared a half bottle of local chianti, and spent a long time sharing our steak. The steak was served with no side dishes, but the chef did bring a plate of Italian bread soup for each of us as an appetizer. Another treat, the bread soup is like Italian bread soaked in marinara sauce, quite delicious.

With Bistecca being such a “thing” in Florence and Tuscany, it isn’t necessarily easy to weed out the tourist restaurants claiming to have traditional Bistecca, and the real thing. One of the factors in determining the real thing is that the meat must come from the famous right breed. The Chianina is an Italian breed of cattle, formerly a draught breed, but now raised for beef. It is the largest and one of the oldest cattle breeds in the world and is known for its incredible flavor.

After our amazing lunch we walked back toward the main part of the city, exploring the nooks and crannies, and were suddenly caught in a huge rain storm. Our umbrellas were safely back at the hotel, but we were just close enough to the Duomo that we managed to get tickets to get inside in time to escape the heaviest of the rain.

The Duomo was an incredible experience, with so much complexity and art. Like many churches in Italy, it took hundreds of years to build the cathedral. Work began in 1196 and over the next 200 years, additions were built and ornate facades were added. In 1339, another massive addition was planned, but the arrival of the Black Death in 1348 halted all further construction on the cathedral.

Once we entered, we were awed by the intricately designed interior with large, colorful mosaics. It was probably our favorite cathedral that we visited during our time in Italy. We loved the most famous masterpiece of Duomo, the inlaid colored marble mosaics covering the entire floor of the church.

Sitting atop Siena’s highest point and visible for miles around, the white and dark-green striped church is as over-the-top as Gothic gets. Inside and out, it’s lavished with statues and mosaics. The heads of 172 popes peer down on all those who enter.

Great art, including Michelangelo statues (above) and Bernini sculptures, fills the church interior. Nicola Pisano carved the wonderful marble pulpit in 1268.

It’s crowded with delicate Gothic storytelling with scenes from the life of Christ and the Last Judgment.

When we left the church the rain had diminished and we ambled back toward Il Campo and the square discovering what some say is Italy’s best medieval city experience. Narrow red brick lanes wander in every direction, lined with colorful flags and studded with iron rings for tethering horses. Those flags represent the city’s contrade (neighborhood associations), whose fierce loyalties are on vivid display twice each summer during the Palio.

A bit of History: quoted from Rick Steves follows.

“Five hundred years ago, Italy was the center of humanism. Today, the self-assured Sienese remember their centuries-old accomplishments with pride. In the 1300s, Siena was one of Europe’s largest cities and a major military force, in a class with Florence, Venice, and Genoa. But weakened by a disastrous plague and conquered by her Florentine rivals, Siena became a backwater for six centuries.

Siena’s loss became our sightseeing gain, because its political and economic irrelevance preserved its Gothic-era identity, most notably its great, gorgeous central piazza — Il Campo. People hang out as if at the beach at this tilted shell-shaped “square” of red brick. It gets my vote for the finest piazza in all of Europe.

Most Italian cities have a church on their main square, but Il Campo gathers around Siena’s city hall, symbol of rational government, and a tall municipal tower (open for climbers). If it’s true that a society builds its tallest towers to its greatest gods, then Siena worships secular effectiveness more than it trusts in God.

Nowadays, the city hall tends a museum collection of beautiful paintings (including a knockout work by hometown master Simone Martini). The 14th-century town council met here in the Sala della Pace (Room of Peace) under instructive frescoes reminding them of the effects of bad and good government: One fresco shows a city in ruins, overrun by greed and tyranny; the other fresco depicts a utopian republic, blissfully at peace.”

We enjoyed the contrast between the Renaissance era of Florence and the Gothic style of Siena, especially the narrow winding lanes. After a short power nap at our hotel, we decided to explore the square in the evening. The crowds had thinned, and we enjoyed sitting at a café for an aperitif. I had my first classic Italian spritz, and Deanna chose Baileys, since the spritz was a bit too bitter for her taste.

We people watched, and the waiter brought us delicious fried potato appetizers, free gratis with our cocktail. After taking some photos of the beautiful fountain and a bit more wandering, we returned to our hotel for what was to be a very long night in our very hard bed.

The next morning we woke to a darkened room with little light even though it was after 8AM. We went downstairs to have a coffee and a croissant on the square before getting tickets at 10 am to climb the tower of the Civic building.

The Torre del Mangia inside the Public Palace in Piazza del Campo is the most recognizable landmark in town. To reach the top of the tower you have to climb 400 steps, but the views of the town and surrounding countryside are simply terrific. 400 steps..very few people. Early morning when the tower first opened at 10 was the perfect time to do the classic climb.

The climb was more dramatic than our previous climb of the Campanile in Florence. The stairs in the tower were older, much more narrow, and the turns were much tighter. We were incredibly happy that the foot traffic was light enough we didn’t have to pass too many people either going up or coming down. I am pretty sure that this will be another memory of our trip to Italy that will stay imbedded in our minds for a very long time.

We had purchased the group ticket, which included seeing the civic museum, but after climbing the tower we had to make a decision. We really wanted lunch. For us at this moment it was more important than the museum, with the desire to have a dish of pici pasta more compelling than another museum. The caveat was that we also wanted to get back to Florence before too late in the evening.

We had a hard time deciding where to eat. By this time the square was horribly crowded, and settling into one of the few open tables at Il Palio, right on the square didn’t feel right. When no one came to attend to us, we simply decided to get up and walk the back lanes to our little restaurant Di Cecco. When we had dined there on the previous day, there was a group of people on a “Eating in Tuscany” tour, with a fascinating guide that we enjoyed listening to as we ate. The group was served the classic Sienese pici pasta, but many of them asked if they could look at our Bistecca, as the guide explained our famous dish to them. It was time for us to return to what was obviously a good restaurant to try pici.

The pasta is a bit like spaghetti, but thicker, and of course denser with the al dente cooking that is so important for Italian pasta. We had it with a porcini sauce, which we thought somehow was pork, but turned out to be mushrooms. The lunch was delicious, and we enjoyed eating at the outdoor tables along the narrow street watching people amble by as we ate. Our simple glass of chianti was just 3 Euro each.

Before exploring the town, we had checked out of our hotel and left our bags in the safe keeping area. We walked back to get our bags and headed out of town toward the bus station where we had arrived the previous day. It took a bit of doing, but in the confusing square we found our bus number and time, and the area where we should plan to board. Once again we managed to deal with the crazy Italian bus system and got on the right bus to Florence, Firenze Rapida.

Then a conundrum. After all of this, we both needed a bathroom, and of course there is no such thing on the Sita buses. The 90 minute ride was a bit of a challenge, and when we arrived back at the station in Florence Deanna and I both had our euro ready for the bus station washroom and managed to get there in time! Simple problems, and it was funny only later.

With our lightweight overnight luggage, which seemed a lot heavier than it had yesterday, we walked the mile and a half back to our apartment. Both of us were happy to finally climb our 4 flights of stairs. We knew that we wouldn’t want to go out again, so supper was another piece of take-away pizza purchased on our walk home. It actually was a pretty good piece of pizza, or we were just tired and hungry which made it taste fabulous. A great ending to a lovely two day adventure.

03-02-2018 The Rest of February

I am laughing as I read back over this blog. A commenter on the last post asked if I would please keep writing when we got home, and I said I would, but that home time was definitely not all that exciting! Who knows if you will find anything of interest here, it is all simple daily stuff.

The sun is making a rare appearance this afternoon, after a few days of in and out rain and snow. It is cold, and Mo and I haven’t had much oomph to get out to do much of anything around the place here. We did manage to finish hanging the outdoor art that we found on our travels to the southwest, and planted a small group of shrubs. Spring Bouquet Laurustinus is a lovely evergreen shrub with pale pink flowers and purple berries in the fall. Listed as deer resistant, I learned the hard way that resistant does NOT mean deer proof.

The first morning after planting them our neighborhood deer herd had nipped off the upper branches and leaves of the little shrubs. I have roses and other plants that have been sprayed with Liquid Fence, but I didn’t really think the deer were even around, much less that I had to spray the darn things the minute I planted them. I immediately got out the sprayer the next day and covered everything in the yard with the smelly stuff. I have real proof now that it really works, since nothing else was touched except the newly planted shrubs.

One afternoon that felt almost like spring, I decided to plant some pansies in the big pots by the garage. They are holding their own, in spite of the snow. The primroses that I transplanted from Rocky Point are looking happy as well. Makes me happy. I had some of these purple primroses back in Northern Idaho before I moved in 2002 to Klamath Falls and like old friends, I take them along wherever I go.

We thought winter had passed by this way gently, but it showed up with a vengeance in the last two weeks. Snow on the ground isn’t common for Grants Pass, and we have had snow several times. It usually melts within a few hours, and so far has required no shoveling or plowing, and no ice to contend with, so that makes me very happy.

It is a great time to be indoors, and I have been working on curtains for the house in the living room and dining room. We didn’t want big window treatments since we love our view, but did need a bit of protection from the afternoon sun on the southwestern window in the living room. We also thought it might be nice to hide the view of the ancient work shed from the east facing dining room window.

I found the fabrics when we were in Palm Springs, shopping at my favorite quilt stores.

I have also had a bit of time to slip into my easy hobby of card making. Love that I have most of the stuff needed for these little projects, and I can accomplish something in a few hours, unlike quilting which requires a big input of time, money, and space. The cold weather sparks the desire to cook as well and I made a seriously amazing roasted chicken and veggies, and finally did up last summer’s blackberries in an iron skillet cobbler recipe.

I find other ways to keep busy. What in the world is this thing called entropy? If I don’t stay right on top of stuff, it can immediately deteriorate into a mess. With a new house, new floors, new appliances, I am a bit obsessive about keeping all those pretty things looking nice and new. Seems as though I spend more time than usual polishing and wiping and swiping and sweeping and such, just to keep that new house look going strong. Wonder how long that will last. How long can that refrigerator look like it was just delivered. So far so good, after 4 months, it still looks all shiny new.

Weekends are fun when my daughter Deborah makes the hour long drive from Shady Cove to visit and she and my grandson Matthew drop in for conversation, sitting around in the comfy living room by the fire talking about everything and nothing.

We are settling in. We have an excellent doctor in a rather amazing medical facility, with everything we need in the Asante medical complex less than 10 minutes from home. Mo found a dentist that accepted both of us, and she is next in line for an eye doctor. It is scary how much time can be spent going to appointments for all this stuff. Hopefully that will slow down a bit, as we are both reasonably healthy.

We also have an excellent car repair shop that we have used over the last few years here in town. After more than 3,000 miles on our wheels for the last trip it was time for an oil change, brake check, and wheel bearing checks for the MoHo. We dropped the rig off and headed downtown for breakfast at a well reviewed Grants Pass spot popular with the locals. The Powderhorn Cafe was right out of the west, with down home breakfasts, cowboy decor, and groups of old guys drinking coffee and chewing the fat in front of the big windows.

After breakfast we took advantage of the early hour to walk along G Street in the Historic District of downtown. We discovered some bars, bistros, and cafes that we hadn’t seen before, and looked at the Garden Mural up close. Sadly, no camera, but you can bet when Erin and Mui visit I will have to take Erin to see the murals. We have several in town, but there are three that are extra special.

As the month drew to a close, the snows kept falling all around us on the hills, but not always here. We are at 1200 feet, and town is at 900 feet. The snow often seems to start around 1500 feet. I looked at the snow and decided on another house project that kept me indoors. I had promised myself I wouldn’t put up any St Paddy’s stuff until it was actually March, but gave in on the 27th and brought out the green bin.

I had started the blocks for this table runner three years ago in Rocky Point, and last year worked on the rest of the runner. This time I actually backed and quilted it and all that is waiting now is the binding. I cut out some fabric for place mats, but with our upcoming trip to Mexico, it might be next year before I get back to them.

We do interesting things for entertainment sometimes, in between our travels. A business run to Medford, about 45 minutes south of us, was augmented with a Costco Run, since we don’t have a Costco here in Grants Pass. There are no better hot dogs in the world than those crazy $1.50 dogs at Costco, so we decided that could be our dinner for the late afternoon. Of course, wine is always nice with dinner, so we found the only bottle of red wine in Costco with a screw top, and bought it to accompany our impromptu supper. With a $17.00 bottle of wine, decanted into those free pepsi cups that come with the $3.00 worth of hot dogs, we had a delightful time laughing ourselves silly in the front seat of the car as the rained poured down all around us and we shared our $20.00 dinner. Don’t worry, we didn’t drink the whole bottle, just a little bit.

When we first got back from the southland, we thought leaving for Mexico wouldn’t be all that exciting since it felt like spring here. Not any more! Snowy rainy wet weather making our upcoming trip to Cancun look very inviting! It will be an easy week visiting ruins, hanging out in the pools, snorkeling and eating good food. Many thanks to Daughter Deanna who offered to share her Riviera Maya timeshare with us, and to air miles for flights. Looking forward to it.

Mo’s birthday was yesterday, and it dawned with big wet snowflakes. The skies were very dark on this first day of March, with “thundersnow” predicted for the Cascades. In like a Lion out like a Lamb?

We decided to celebrate Mo’s day with a dinner at one of those little bistros that we found last week walking around town. The Bohemian Bistro and Bar bills itself as a “New American Restaurant”. We had a delightful early dinner, with snazzy cocktails, including a Lavender Lemon Drop for me, a very fine salad made with locally sourced baby romaine and balsamic reduction, some Goyza dumplings with a spicy dipping sauce, coconut shrimp with habanera pineapple sauce for me and halibut for Mo. Mo wasn’t that excited about her halibut, but I liked it. My shrimp was to die for, but the winner was the dessert, a perfect little ramekin of caramel latte creme brulee. We were happy that we found parking directly on the street in front of the restaurant since it was pouring when we went in and still pouring when we left. Nice place and a good find.

We are traveling over the mountain back to Klamath Falls tomorrow, hoping that this big storm that is enveloping most of Northern California and Southern Oregon will pass, at least enough to get through with our studded snow tires and 4 wheel drive truck. The Apartments are fully rented, and we need to check on a few things. We are so grateful that we were able to rent them all through Zillow, bypassing the property management people. So far, so good, and I think we have very good renters. The years when Mo used a property manager for the apartments when she lived out at Rocky Point were somewhat of an expensive convenience, and not always that convenient. We will see how it goes with the two of us managing things, and our good renter Jacob taking care of snow plowing in the winter and lawn mowing in the summer. Lucky to have Jacob. He keeps an eye out for things as well, letting us know if something doesn’t look right. Mo had a new fiberglass roof installed over the upper deck and we are anxious to see it as well as the new sign that was part of the EPA re-do. The old sign was too hard to keep so they trashed it and had a new sign done for her.

There has been a LOT more snow there than here, so the little day trip tomorrow will definitely help us remember why we love living in Grants Pass even if it does snow a little bit now and then.

Let’s Go to the Beach!

Current Location: The Sunset House in Grants Pass Oregon

Let’s go to the beach! I suppose that is something said more often in summer, or even spring or fall, but probably doesn’t fall off one’s lips in the middle of winter, at least not in this part of the country. But now that we are at last settled into our home, Mo and I have been itching to get the MoHo on the road, and the beach is just two hours west. That was one of the reasons we chose to build our home in Grants Pass; it is a reasonably easy drive to the ocean, without having to live in the salt air and summer fogs.

Is it surprising that once again we ended up in Brookings at Harris Beach State Park? Probably not to readers who have been around awhile. What can I say about Harris Beach that I haven’t said several times a year for the last 15 years?! Brookings is the Banana Belt of the Oregon Coast, and is known for great December weather. With a foggy inversion hanging around Grants Pass for the last week or so, we were definitely ready for some sunshine.

The beach complied with a great day of sun and temperatures in the 60’s. At least that was the case when we arrived on Monday afternoon. Packing up was a breeze, the MoHo was nice and clean inside and out, waiting in the RV shed, everything we needed for a simple two night stay took less than an hour to load. We had to bide our time before leaving since we didn’t want to arrive too early. Check-in time at the State Park is supposed to be after 1pm. Perfect.

We left in fog, but by the time we reached Hayes Hill just west of town on Highway 199 the sun was so brilliant I had to find my sunglasses. Ahhh. The drive was gorgeous, as always, even with the water in the wild Smith River at fairly low levels due to the recent lack of precipitation. Someday I am going to make an attempt to drive that road in a car and stop often enough to capture some of the beauty of the river and the mountains and forests through this part of the coast range. Taking photos out the window of a moving vehicle can’t begin to do it justice, and since I was driving that was even more of a problem. I had the same thought today as we returned, and I wasn’t driving. I did manage to get a photo of the snow surrounding us at the higher elevations, thankfully not right on the road, but real photos? As I said, maybe someday.

When we first arrived, the front row appeared to be completely empty? Really? What a delight! We didn’t have reservations, insisting to friends who asked that they were completely unnecessary at this time of year. Approaching the park entrance, we had a bit of a shock. The front row was completely empty because most of the park was shut down for a complete overhaul of the sewer and water system.

There were only 2 sites along the front row that were useable and as we continued around the C Loop (most of the back side of A and most of B loop were closed) we saw that C4, one of our favorite sites, was open with a reservation scheduled for late December. Score! A big rig followed us in, and gave up and left the park, shaking his head at the vacancy sign. Vacancy doesn’t mean anything is useable for big rigs or that the available sites would actually have hookups. Most of the vacancies were tent sites. The park volunteers let us know that the work was supposed to be completed by mid June of this year. We will see. But I don’t imagine we will try to get back to Harris Beach any time soon. Loeb Park is open, and is only $24 per night, but it is up the Chetco River, and is some distance from town and the beach.

Thanking the RV gods for our good luck, we were in our spot and set up in no time. One of the nice things about C4 is that it still has the tall trees and overgrown bushes that used to make Harris Beach so charming and private. The new thought for the park is to take down many of the trees (they aren’t native), and trim all the hedges into nice even rectangles.

Much of the privacy between sites is gone, and while the views of the ocean are accessible, so are the views of your next door neighbors. I miss the old overgrown feeling of the park, but I don’t imagine we will give up camping at Harris Beach in the future. It is just too convenient to town, to trails, to wonderful beach walks, and to home.

The sun was still out, and there was very little wind. We knew the forecast for the next day called for 100 percent chance of precip with high winds, so we quickly set up camp and headed down to the beach. It was so wonderfully warm, with no wind at all, and our light jackets were almost too much for us. We walked north from the main beach parking area where we can let Mattie off leash when no one is around.

She had a great time tearing around in the sand. That little dog loves to run and is sooooo fast! It was impossible to catch her in a photo since I didn’t bother to lug the camera with me and only had the phone. We sat for a time watching the water and the sky, and letting Mattie play as the sun began to go down over the waves.

There was more entertainment on the agenda that needed to be enjoyed on an evening without rain. The annual Nature’s Coastal Holiday was once again lighting up Azalea Park with over 500,000 lights. We attended the show in 2013 and didn’t want to miss it. We thought a fish and chips supper before the show was a great idea until I started searching and found most every fish and chips place in Brookings and in nearby Harbor are closed on Mondays. Note to self, bring food for Monday nights in Brookings! Luckily I had some great chicken enchiladas in the fridge so we didn’t go hungry.

It was completely dark by a bit after 5 when we paid our nominal $2.00 fee to enter the park. The show was breathtaking, even more wonderful than we remember from our visit four years ago. I have never seen so many lights, wrapped around every bush and tree and even spread over the ground to look like flowing water. The pathways around the park were lit, the gazebo on the hill was a beacon that could be seen from most every vantage point, and the music was pure Christmas, with Bing Crosby crooning, and of course, Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer. I think the only light show I have seen that could come close to this one is the Christmas light show at Silver Springs in Ocala, Florida. I have no idea if they even still do that show now that Silver Springs is officially a state park and no longer a private amusement venue.

Everything was so lovely we had to walk around more than once to take it all in. Somehow all those lights and Christmas music are what makes the holiday the most fun for me. I am so glad that we went.

Afterward, we stopped off at Fred Meyer, the main shopping place in Brookings, and lo and behold out walked Doni, from Quilting and Life in General, a blog I have read for years. I had never met her in person, but recognized her face instantly. I can only imagine how it must feel to be leaving the grocery store and have some stranger accost you with, “Doni?! It is YOU! I have read your blog for years!” Doni is a quilter, and I found her blog through Paulette of Rick and Paulette from the very old days of early blogging. Such fun. And such a small world.

Yesterday we woke to hard rain and very dark skies. Somehow breakfast slipped in at almost 9am, unheard of for the two of us who are usually such early risers. The winds were high and wild and the rain was blowing sideways for most of the day. We decided it might be a day for a book instead of a walk, and wandered off to the Goodwill store in search of something used to entertain each of us. We also thought a stop at my very favorite local quilt store was in order, and imagine my sad surprise to find that the store was closed and the owner had retired last summer. I was heartbroken, but I guess after 30 years a woman can get tired and want to let it go. Our favorite bakery still had hours listed from 6am on Friday mornings through Sundays only, so I was glad I brought a stash of Christmas cookies that I baked last week to keep us fortified.

Fish and Chips are an important component of any visit to the coast, even a short one. We have spent several years passing by the Crazy Norwegian in Port Orford. Sometimes we pass because we are on our way somewhere coming or going, or the place is closed (probably a Monday). Nina talked about it often when she and Paul were staying at the lighthouse in Cape Blanco, and other bloggers have waxed poetic about the fabulous food to be found in the tiny establishment.

In spite of the driving rains, and high winds, we thought a 55 mile each way trip up the coast along Highway 101 would be a good way to spend part of a rainy day, especially with good fish and chips to reward us. The Crazy Norwegian turned out to be a great little place, with everything fresh and homemade. I loved the chowder especially, not too thick and homemade with some kind of herb that didn’t appeal to Mo but really tickled me. I think it was tarragon. The cod was from Alaska, and on the menu it stated that the supply of good fresh cod from local sources was too undependable, hence the Alaska version. It was moist and tender and done perfectly, as were the fries. The coleslaw was different, and the waitress said the secret ingredient was horseradish. It wasn’t my favorite. Coleslaw should have mayo in it! We were really glad we made the trip, glad to have tried out the Crazy Norwegian, but also decided that in the future we might be perfectly happy to return to the Sporthaven Marina that we found last time we were in Brookings.

Back to the RV in the rain, we settled in for card playing, skipping super since our two o’clock lunch held us over just fine, and reading our new books. I found a new author, Martha Grimes, and I am loving the book, “Dakota”. I think I’ll have to search out some more of her writings.

We watched the weather report, listening to the winter storm warnings for the coast range and for the Cascades, hoping that things would clear out by the time we had to leave at noon. I checked the weather channel this morning, and we played more cards while waiting for the snow to melt that covered the roads at the Oregon California border. I didn’t relish the thought of traveling Highway 199 in the snow. That road along the Smith is gorgeous and treacherous as well, with steep mountains formed from slippery serpentine rock that slides easily, and narrow lanes that drop directly to the river sometimes a hundred feet below the tiny almost non existent guard rail. Just ask Judy about that road! Ha!

By the time we left however, the temps were in the 40’s, the rain showed no signs of scary snow at least as far as Patrick Creek, and the road had no ice to mar our journey. Mo drove and I did manage to get a couple of photos out the windshield of the snow around us, but thankfully not on the road. When we got home, the sun was shining through the clouds surrounding Grants Pass.

Within a hour of arriving, we had dumped the tanks into our own RV dump, unloaded everything, and had the MoHo all backed into her shed, safe and sound. I made another batch of Christmas cookies, we ate our leftover fish and chips (of COURSE we had leftovers), I processed photos, and wonder of all wonders, here I am writing the blog! Photos probably won’t go in till later since tomorrow morning I am off to see daughter Melody and her family just two hours north in Eugene. So excited! Two hours isn’t that far, but it seems a long way after two years of having Melody living in the same apartment building with Mo and I. I really do miss having her close by and seeing the kids come and go and getting hugs on a regular basis. I’ll have to catch up on hugs tomorrow for sure.

3-08-2014 Fort Pickens Day

Current Location: Natchez State Park, Mississippi 62 F this evening with partly cloudy skies

This morning (Sunday) we are sleeping in, sort of. Daylight Savings time kicked off at 2am and it is now 7 and just barely light out. We thought an early departure would be in order, expecting to travel a bit over 300 miles or so northward today. Options are plentiful, and I am leaning toward the direct route from Mobile through Hattiesburg to Natchez.

I didn’t want to get on the road, however, before remembering the haunting experience of visiting the actual fort at Fort Pickens. Just another way of realizing how much can be learned from being on the road. I had never heard of Fort Pickens, other than bloggers posting now and then about camping here.

Until I visited the fort yesterday, I didn’t have a real grasp on what the Civil War meant in the state of Florida. We have seen many references to the war in other sites in Florida. Somehow I never realized how important Pensacola Bay was to the South, and to the Union trying to control the south by controlling its major ports.

As I have said in the past, I don’t attempt to be either a travelogue or a history book, as there are so many fine resources for this kind of information. However, if you are like me, being in a place triggers my imagination, and I found myself wanting to learn more and more about how this area was affected by the Civil War.

The National Park Service had some great books at the fort Visitor Center, and I wanted to stand and read them all, and maybe even buy them, but managed to refrain. Instead, I found most of the information written by the park service is online, specifically, the role of Pensacola Bay and the four major forts in the area in the Civil War is summarized here. I was especially fascinated reading about the Battle of Santa Rosa Island, with troops losing their way in the dunes and scrub, among other human details.

At Pensacola Bay, there are four major forts and a bunch of batteries, most built long before the Civil War, fortified and rebuilt again in the early 1900’s around the time of the Spanish American War, and then rebuilt and refortified again for World War II.

Fort Pickens is a “real” fort, almost medieval in appearance, with bricks fired in the early 1800’s creating thick walls, much like those seen at our visit to the Dry Tortugas a few years ago. There is even a moat, albeit a “dry moat”.

A few cannons are on display, with information about the smooth bore cannons and rifled cannons, and 300 pound cannon balls made of iron. Geez.

A fascinating thought from the brochure about the Advanced Redoubt of Fort Barrancas across the bay, and also true of Fort Pickens: “This fort is a study in changes. The construction began with slave labor but was finished by free men. In an age of brick and stone, its walls were filled with cement. Although it was designed to last for centuries, it was outdated before the last brick was set.”

Sounds like some of our defense stuff from the current times, I would say. Evidence of this kind of shift in defense is displayed extremely well at Fort Pickens with the “fort within a fort”. Battery Pensacola (the dark walls in the photo) was constructed in 1898 to withstand the new heavier cannon power that the brick walls of the original fort could no longer handle.

Funniest oops of all was the accidental explosion of one of the powder magazines that blew out a big hole in the north side of the fort and was never repaired.

Another bit of information that was totally surprising to me was that Geronimo was incarcerated at Fort Pickens for a time. I had no clue, even though I knew that he was brought to Florida and never again saw his homeland. Somehow history becomes much more real when you are standing in the actual location. I am reminded again of moments standing at the scene of the Battle of the Little Bighorn on our trip in 2012.

We wandered around for along time, following along with the self-guided tour booklet an marveling at the fascinating story of the evolution of homeland defense for more than 100 years, all now obsolete with the advent of air power and missiles. Large forts no longer protect our harbors and bays, but Pensacola still houses a huge military presence.

With Abby safely napping in the MoHo while we toured, Mo and I took the time to go to the beach together for a bit and enjoy the gorgeous white sands and beautiful waters one last time. There was so much to do in the area, and we barely tapped the surface. In spite of our desire to visit Fort Barrancas and the Advanced Redoubt, (a fortification before the major fortification, built to slow down the attackers before they get to the real thing) the need to slow down and rest a bit before dinner won out.

We would have loved especially visiting the Naval Aviation Museum, the best in the country I have heard, and if we had been here a bit longer, we may have been treated to a practice performance by the Blue Angels. Yes, so very much to do.

Our last night in Florida was celebrated in true Pensacola style with a drive across the bridges from the island to the mainland for dinner at McGuire’s. On a Saturday evening the place was packed, and it is first come first served, no reservations. In spite of the giant crowds jammed at the door, in the bar, in the gift shop and everywhere we looked, within 20 minutes we were seated at a cozy table. We even managed a seat in the bar for pre dinner drinks!

McGuires is an amazing place, and with the huge jammed full parking lot, somehow the interior of the restaurant is designed such that it feels like a small rather intimate pub. I have no idea how they do that. We had one of the best waitresses ever, who treated us as if she had all the time in the world, and saw to our every need. Dinner was simple fish and chips, with those fabulous Rueben Egg Rolls for an appetizer. Mo loved them as much as I did!

I lugged the camera along, but took not a single photo, either of the pub, the people, or the food. It was just too much to try to take pictures while we were having fun and thoroughly enjoying the people watching.

Right across from us was a couple on the date from hell. The girl was adorable, and the guy was a dork, on his phone half the time, and you could tell they didn’t know each other very well. It was so obviously a first date and an awkward one at that.

Then we noticed a lot of guys dining together, most of them with very spiffy military haircuts, and even a group of incredibly well pressed Marines sat down next to us. Whew….there must be a LOT of loose guys running around in this town on a Saturday night. Now, of course, I wish I had taken some photos to illustrate all this interesting humanity, but you will just have to use your imagination.

In spite of the no photos problem, I couldn’t resist stealing a few from the internet, just to give you a bit of a feel for the place. They even have their own Irish Piping Band, and a St Paddy’s Day run, their own double decker busses and who knows what else. I guess it is a bit like Irish Disneyland. Fake but fun. And terrific food!

We both thought it quite fitting that we started our sojourn into Florida with dinner at McGuire’s in Destin, and ended it with dinner at McGuire’s in Pensacola.

02-06-2014 Cold Rainy Day in Destin

Current temperature 36 F Partly clear and the high to day up to a balmy 53!

I guess 53F is a lot better than 43F which was the high temperature here yesterday. With rain. No sun, not a speck of sunshine. We are leaving today and heading east toward St Joe Peninsula State Park….I think we need to follow the rain. Weatherunderground says that by Sunday the rainy weather will have passed this part of the Emerald Coast with sunshine predicted in Destin and clouds and rain for points farther east.

I guess this is the most frustrating part of traveling with reservations, we just don’t have a lot of flexibility to follow the weather. The whole plan would fall like a stack of dominoes if we decided to try to go somewhere warm and sunny right now. The other problem, of course, is that there isn’t much warm and sunny in this half of the country and we would have to go a couple of thousand miles west. And by the time we got there, Winter Storm Orion might be doing some damage as well even out west.

Right now, Oregon is experiencing some severe winter weather on the west side of the mountains, and I am quite happy to be down here, relatively warm, not shoveling snow and slipping on icy roads. I will not complain one bit more about the cold weather here in Florida. I also know that if I could just get a little bit father south the predictions are for highs in the 80’s at Marathon Key. I need a Star Trek transporter to get us there before some weird weather thing turns it all cold again.

With Florida beaches off limits to dogs, we took Abby to the Four Paws doggy day care for our day on the beach. I would say that was a fairly loosely run business, but we saw where Abby was to spend the day, and it seemed clean enough. There was no outdoor space, but the owner said he walked the dogs every two hours or so. The hours are a bit limited and we had to return by 4PM to pick her up.

On a side note, I would highly recommend reading ALL the reviews for boarding facilities. A kennel recommended by the desk staff at the campground had some rather scary reviews. The kennel owner is threatening to sue the reviewers for slander, but a local vet confirmed that a small dog died from injuries sustained at the facility by a larger dog. If there are terrible reviews and then a bunch of glowing reviews with a later date, pay attention, those later reviews are probably fake.

We started our dog free morning with pastries and coffee at “The Donut Hole”, recommended by several bloggers and a recent commenter on our blog. Thanks, that was a good choice. The coffee was strong, the pastries superb, and the restaurant gave us a place to prepare for venturing out into the cold rain.

I wanted most of all to see Grayton Beach State Park, and had no problem paying the $5. entry fee to explore the campground, check out the dune lakes, and the famous white sands of the beach. Even with the gloomy skies, the pastel turquoise colors of the water and the pure white sands were wonderful.

We walked as long as we could manage in the cold. Even with a yellow flag out, for moderate conditions, the breezes made the 43 degree temperatures bone chilling. Still, I had to put my feet in that crystalline water. The Gulf was doing that gentle Gulf thing that I love, with soft, little waves…can I even call them waves?….lapping the shore and the dark clouds reflecting in the still water. I kept imagining how incredible it would feel to have my kayak out there on the wilderness of silky turquoise water and gray sky in all directions.

From Grayton Beach, there are some tall Florida condominiums visible in the distance, but nothing invasive. The State Park itself is definitely a place to camp for us, with several sites with paths leading directly to the dune lake and plenty of privacy. The newer part of the campground has 50 amp hookups and larger sites, but they are unprotected and open. We liked the older part better, nice thing about having a 30 amp, 26 foot rig.

After freezing at the beach, we jumped back in the Tracker turning the heat on full blast to try to dry out my jeans. Even with the cuffs rolled up I managed to get all wet. Continuing east on 30A, we traveled the short mile and a half from the park to the little storybook town of Seaside, Florida. Years ago, watching the movie “The Truman Show”, I fell in love with this town, as did many other people. Looking it up, I learned it was a planned community, one of the first that used the new Urban Design concept of creating a living space that was pedestrian friendly, with common areas, concentrated housing of varying sizes and types, and the ability to work and play and live all without having to use a car.

I don’t think many people who work in Seaside actually live there, since many of the houses now go for millions. It was still very cold, and by the time we got to Seaside it was also raining. The lovely town square was in the midst of major reconstruction and not quite lovely at this time. One of the local food wagon vendors told us they had trouble with drainage and the square was being redesigned to handle runoff more efficiently. He said it would be gorgeous again by March.

I had Mo take the obligatory photo of me at the tiny post office and then we walked the square a bit.

A store with proclaimed cottage style was rather elegant. I kept picturing all that fancy elegant cottage stuff in our real cottage back in Oregon. Maybe not, but it was luscious to look at, with linen woven slipcovers, big bowls of coffee beans on distressed wood tables, and beautiful linen napkins at $20. a piece. Let’s see…dinner for six and $120. for napkins? I love luxury and good quality, but this was even more than I would do.

The famous Modica Market was a nice stop, with tall shelves of everything imaginable that required library style ladders to stock. Again, even with a small bin of organic produce, this wasn’t exactly your weekly grocery shopping spot. The Seaside Transit Authority tent was worth a double take, however, with bicycles instead of busses as the city transportation system.

Still raining, I convinced Mo to walk at least a couple of blocks through the residential areas, with their white picket fences and porches bigger than my house. Just a short way down the block, we found a public pathway, a truly amazing little treat, that led between back yards, much like an alley, but not for cars. The path led to the main road where we got back in the car, grateful again for warmth.

It seems that March is the beginning of “the season” in Seaside, and many of the charming little boutiques on the beach side of the town square were still closed. Lucky for me, Pickles was open, and I managed an order of fried pickles…something I never tried before but sounded like fun. They were. I can see that Seaside could be a great place to visit on a warm sunny day on a bicycle. With a great bike trail between the town and the state park to the west, the perfect combination of quiet kayaking, beautiful beach, and cute busy town accessible by bike is pretty darn inviting. But not today in the cold rain.

Traveling back 20 miles or so to Destin, we found a WalMart…a tiny version of most WalMarts, hoping for some shelf liner, some propane, and some TUMS. Eating out so much isn’t that good for my tummy. I needed to be armed for the last dog free adventure of the day, hot Irish coffee at McGuire’s Irish Pub back in Destin. I have seen photos of this place on so many blogs recently, and read about how great it is for so long that I decided it was worth a try.

We weren’t disappointed, and Mo finally got fish and chips the way she has been wanting it for a month now. None of that greasy, thick doughy breading, but a nice light crispy coating on flaky light fish. I tried the rueben egg roll appetizers and they were great! McGuire’s is also a small craft brewery, and when I asked if any of their beer was bottled, the head brewmaster came over to our table to have a long conversation about crafted beer. I gave the rest of my Irish coffee to Mo and ordered a Millennial. Excellent beer, not too hoppy, but rich and creamy. In Florida, they do sell growlers of tap beer, but a growler is a gallon! Hard to fit that in a motorhome fridge, so I passed. It would take me a long time to drink a gallon of beer!

It is very nearly impossible to get a photo of the interior of McGuire’s, since the place is mainly lit with dim red lights. The walls and ceiling are covered with dollar bills, all signed and named by folks who have visited. They call it the million dollar ceiling. I remember a ceiling like this along Interstate 90 west of Missoula, Montana somewhere near St Regis, but for the life of me can’t remember the name of the place. Then there was the great little trailer coffee shop on the dirt road track the the Denali Highway in Alaska…covered in dollar bills with pies that were $36 each. That dollar bill ceiling thing isn’t all that uncommon.

When we picked up Abby, she seemed happy and unstressed, so I assume her day was OK. Ours was OK as well, in spite of the rain and cold, and as I fell asleep last night I kept remembering the color of the water, not how cold my hands and feet were while walking on the beach.