waterfalls – Page 2 – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

Another gorgeous sunny day on the Oregon Coast May 4

Still have no good internet access, so am sitting in the Mojo Café in Brookings. Managed to upload three days of blog fun but the photo upload is crawling along and I am going to give it up and head back to camp. The rest of the photo links will be posted sometime when access is a bit better. (Photos are all posted now both on Picasa and Smugmug with a link at the bottom of the post for this day!) Good a time as any to catch up on a very few of the 200 plus blog posts in my reader list accumulated since we left Monday morning. Gee, you are all so prolific!!

I woke up as the sky was barely lightening to see a shroud of fog hovering over the ocean, but by the time we got up at 6:30 it was completely gone. There was barely a breeze and the skies were completely clear. We planned to kayak again today, this time on the Pistol River and estuary about 17 miles north, but first we decided to begin our day with a hike down to the beach.

This time we took the South Beach Trail, another well maintained route down the cliffs to the ocean. South Beach Trail takes off just a couple of sites east of ours and meanders through deep green forest before approaching the view parking lot and cliffs to the beach. The path down the cliffs is steep, but not too much so to manage easily back up without stopping. It is even paved with asphalt, so no slipping and sliding on loose rock and gravel makes it really enjoyable.

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Once on the beach, the sun was so warm Mo had to take off her jacket and we walked as far south as the incoming tide allowed, throwing the ball for Abby and enjoying the warm, windless morning. I haven’t experienced the beaches of Oregon without wind very many times, so I thought it was wonderful. Abby even wore out after much fetching, and once even stopped to rinse her sandy ball in a tidepool before picking it up again and bringing it to Mo. Did she do that on purpose?? It seems so, but who knows. Abby IS incredibly smart.

We are unhooked from internet and telephones, but still have the morning news with the cable here at the park. It’s amazing how one thing after the other gets all the focus. The killing of Bin Laden and the decision about whether or not to release his death photos have completely superseded the tragedies in the south. I don’t understand why news can’t actually be news of what is going on everywhere, instead of what happens to be the “big story” of the moment. The flooding and tornado damage in our country is more important to me that all the political posturing about the Osama thing.

We spent a bit of time relaxing in the morning sunlight before taking the baby car north on 101 about 17 miles to our planned launch site on the Pistol River. Once we passed through the beautiful forest and started the descent to the ocean, the difference in wind speed was intense. Parking first at the north side launch, then at the southern approach, we walked out to the river to asses the situation. I think the winds were close to 40 mph and the tide incoming. We thought it would have been ok going upstream, but were a bit worried about getting back downriver. Driving upriver to some other listed launch sites didn’t yield anything more promising, so we once more traveled back to the Pistol River State Park day use area and saw that even with the incoming tide, the connection between the river and the south arm estuary was completely dry. It was cold and the wind was intense, so we looked at each other and said, “Maybe not”. Time for Plan B.

In some of the literature we gathered for the area while driving about town, Mo found information about a little known historical site. In the Brookings area, you can hike to the only spot in the continental US where enemy bombs were dropped during WWII. Nobuo Fujita, a young Japanese warrant officer, flew his small pontoon plan off a Japanese sub on the Oregon coast near Cape Blanco on September 9 1942. His assignment was to drop incendiary bombs into the forest, start a huge fire and panic the nation. Only one bomb out of five detonated, and it ignited the woods up in the hills near Mount Emily. Due to wet conditions and the fact that the bomb only partially detonated, the fire only spread 75 feet. It was quickly put out by four forest service workers.

Twenty years after he dropped his bombs the Brookings Jaycees invited Fujita to visit during the Azalea Festival. He came to ask forgiveness, and presented his sword to Brookings. You can read more detail about this amazing little piece of history here.

We drove several miles east along the Chetco River before turning off on the dirt and gravel road to Mount Emily and the bomb site. The trip reminded me of the many years I spent driving remote forest roads like this one exploring wild areas. The nice part about this trip is that I was only going to hike on trails and I didn’t have to climb these steep slopes with a shovel and a pack through thick brush. In this area, the conifer forests have been burned, and the canopy is often dominated by second growth alder. While a coniferous forest is often lovely, they are also very thick and dark, and a bit forbidding. I really enjoyed the fluorescent lime green light filtering through all the leaves of the springtime alders.

After almost 14 miles of winding road, without seeing another single car coming or going, we found the trail head. The hike was perfect, some ups, some downs, about a mile each way through beautiful forest to the bomb site. The signs were wonderful, telling the story with photographs of the Japanese sub, the pontoon airplane, Fujitsu and his son, and the people responsible for putting out the fire. As usual, the hike back to the trailhead seemed to go much more quickly than the hike out, and the ride back to town also seemed to pass much more quickly. We again passed our special stops found on the way in, the lovely little campsite along the creek, and the amazing very tall waterfall hidden among the alders.

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On the way back down the road, we were discussing how little wildlife we had seen. In the bomb site brochure, it was mentioned that the remoteness of the road often allowed for seeing a bear or two scampering across the road. Literally minutes after we had this discussion, we suddenly saw two bear cubs scamper across the road. It was much too fast for us to truly catch anything with the camera, but then one cub ran up a tree right next to the road, and obligingly waiting for us to take his photo. Once again I am reminded of how much I want a real SLR with a real telephoto lens when I go to Alaska! The baby bear was sure cute, and Mom and sibling were no where to be seen down the incredibly steep slope.

Back in Brookings, we decided it was time for some coastal fish and chips. Funny thing, being a harbor town, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of fish places around. We both remembered a place south of town where we once had a great dinner with friends, but couldn’t find it. Finally found it with the help of the phone and the place was closed up tight. We then drove back through the 101 strip, but nothing appeared, and we decided to go down to the Harbor to see what was there. I had heard about the Oceanside, and after much dinking around, we finally found it. It was also closed up tight!

By this time we were both pretty tired and hungry and grumpy, but neither of us was quite ready to give up and go home and eat soup. We passed a funky little restaurant called the Chetco Seafood Company, with a blinking beer sign in the window, and a couple of people leaving with go bags in their hands. Tired won out, and we parked Abby where her barking wouldn’t get attention and went in. First sign of a good choice was the decent glass of chardonnay for 3 bucks. We ordered fish and chips, and kept asking each other, “Is this really this good or are we just hungry?” I decided it really WAS that good. The fish was light and incredibly fresh, the breading thin and light and delicately spiced and not the least bit greasy. The fries were perfect and the cole slaw perfect as well. We shared a cup of chowder filled with fresh pink? clams to start and it was perfect as well. Maybe we were just hungry, but it may have been the best fish and chips I have ever eaten.

More photos of our day are located here.

2010 Keep it short, right? hahahahahaha Part 1

Mo and I have an inside joke. I worry things to death and she thinks in a very straightforward way. I have 12 thoughts to every one of hers. Her thoughts are usually practical and help get things done. My thoughts are usually all over the place and don’t accomplish a lot. Last night as the evening settled in to a close along with the year, I thought a lot about what I learned this year. This morning at 4am I woke up thinking about all the things we did this past year, all the changes, trying to decide what and how much to write. Lots of the stuff I thought about wasn’t the least bit blog worthy, and other stuff was probably not blog appropriate. Somehow, in the early morning in the dark, I realized how important the family times were this year. This great group includes Mo’s siblings and their offspring, my four kids, grandkids, great-grandkids, friends that are so dear they count as extended family. We managed wonderful visits this year with lots of people who are important to each of us, and who are scattered all across the country.

I was delighted this morning when I opened the “Travels with Emma” blog and found lovely collages of the previous year. Ahh. Perfect. With kudos to Judy for her idea, I decided that would be the simplest way to try to share and summarize the year just past. If it gets too long, you can just click that little x on the upper right corner of your screen and ‘poof’ I’m gone. With that in mind, I decided to write exactly what I wanted to, with pictures! I did figure out some of the things I learned this year, but that is fairly boring, so I won’t elaborate too much. For instance, I learned that I don’t have to spend a lot of money, and I learned that I could actually wait to get something I think I desperately want. See what I mean? Silly stuff for someone just turned 65.

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January was momentous for me. I retired from 30 plus years as a soil scientist with the USDA-NRCS and celebrated with a 14 day cruise through the Panama Canal. Mo and I spent many sea days actually relaxing and the five port days were perfect.

Our cruise with Celebrity on the Solstice was wonderful, and we spent days in Cartagena, Colombia, in Costa Rica, and three ports in Mexico.

We came home to the manufactured home where I lived in California and put it up for sale for the last time before returning to Rocky Point and a reasonably mild winter.

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In February, we took a short trip to McMenniman’s Brewery at Edgefield in Troutdale (about 300 miles north of Rocky Point east of Portland) and enjoyed a day trying out finely crafted beer and walking the gardens. The day was fabulous for me, since I spent a couple of hours in the Ruby Spa getting a facial with all sorts of amazing aromatic oils and soft lights. It was an easy trip since Mo was already in the area house and dog sitting for her brother away in Hawaii. When we returned home to Rocky Point, the winter was already fading and we actually started raking pine needles that month.

We moved most of my furniture out of the mobile in California to Rocky Point and I spent much of the month fixing up my part of the house, painting my bathroom, doing all those little things that feed my nesting spirit. It was my first winter back in Klamath since I left in 2006 for California and I was so grateful to be home again, with my daughter and grandkids just a few miles away in town. Just so you don’t get confused; Rocky Point is part of the Klamath Basin, which I refer to as Klamath, although I may call Klamath Falls (city) Klamath as well. It doesn’t help much that there is a “Klamath” in California, both the river and the town, and the national forest. Just to be clear.

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Since March in this part of the country can be incredibly tiresome, we planned a trip to the warmest place in the US that we could think of, Key West. It wasn’t THAT warm, however, with the coldest March on record, but we still wore shorts and enjoyed the velvet balmy air. I learned that Key West wasn’t the least bit tacky if you looked in the right places. I loved it. We spent time on the water, exploring the Dry Tortugas for a day, kayaking the lagoons on the bay side of the keys and eating. Lots of amazing seafood, key lime crepes for breakfast, and still brilliant in my memory is a crab stuffed shrimp with key lime hollandaise. We walked everywhere in Key West, and the rental car developed a thick layer of dust while we explored the side streets and took photos of conch cottages and turquoise water. We flew to Miami and rented a car for this trip, but cruised through the gorgeous state parks dreaming of the winter when we will take the MoHo south and spend it in Florida.

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Winter showed up again at Easter in Rocky Point, but by April we were able to slip out of the MoHo barn and travel north to Silver Falls State Park near the town of Silverton, Oregon. We spent a nearly week camping in the rain, hiking the falls, and enjoying a visit from my daughter, Deborah who lives in Portland. Silver Falls is the largest state park in Oregon, and certainly one of the most beautiful. We camped without hookups, since the electric sites were all reserved by a flotilla of baby fiberglass rv’s, but it wasn’t a problem at all. We stayed warm and comfortable and had a wonderful time. We visited the Oregon gardens, reveling in all the brilliant early spring blooms, toured the town of Silverton, and spent a day trying out more finely crafted beers from 100 or so breweries at the Oregon Garden Beer Festival. I learned that I could actually drink a full, entire beer if it was really good.

That’s part one of my year summary, with two more to follow. It’s a great pastime for a snowy New Year’s Day at home. I love going back over the memories, looking at the pictures, reading my own blog and trying to sum it up.

September 11 Watkins Glen, New York

The rest of the photos for this day are linked here.

It is a delightful feeling to wake to sunshine pouring into the windows on a Saturday. Especially when our day ahead included some hiking, some wine tasting, and a bit of actual relaxation. A bit of fog drifted around us from the pond outside our doors and breakfast tasted wonderful with the time to eat slowly and savor it.

I took a little time to actually finish writing blog posts for the last few days, process photos, and check email. The internet connection here is too slow to upload anything, but at least I could get on the internet long enough to make sure all is well at home.

After breakfast we took a little time to walk around the pond and then left for town and Watkins Glen State park. Even though the races are over, the area is crawling with vintage sports cars and traffic is heavy. We paid the fee to park at the main gate, (with Abby safely at home in her crate for the duration) and walked into the park.

The Gorge Trail follows the Glen River through a steep canyon cut dramatically into the slate layers creating 19 waterfalls and many more smaller cascades throughout the length of the hike. Tunnels have been cut into the gorge by hand and more than 880 stone steps follow the path of the river to the top of the gorge in just a mile and a half of almost steady climbing.

This is evidently a very popular place and many people were hiking the stairs and everywhere camera flashes were popping in an attempt to capture the light and shadow in the very dim canyon. We walked to the end of the trail where there is another state park entrance, a gift shop, and a shuttle to take people back down if they can’t manage the stairs. We chose to take a different route along Indian Trail back down rather than negotiate the very steep steps. I can hike up but the downs are pretty hard on the knees so the trail, while steep in some places, was still easier than all those stairs, and we got to see a different view.

Like everyone else in this canyon, I took way too many photos, trying to capture the light and shadows and the beautiful cascades.

Afterward, we drove north on Highway 14, the Seneca Wine Trail, along Seneca Lake for a bit of sightseeing. Seneca Lake is one of the eleven Finger Lakes. and the climate is moderated a bit by the lakes, and the low rolling hills adjacent to the lake valleys are perfect for growing Rieslings, Pinot Gris, and other white wine grapes. There are more than 50 wineries within a few miles of the lake in this area, and it is the highest concentration of wineries anywhere in the US except for the Napa Valley. We didn’t really want to spend the day wine tasting in the area, but did think at least one stop was called for. The winery we chose was unassuming, in an antique weathered old barn, and the tasting fee was only $2.00 for 5 tastings. The wines were just OK, except for a delightful Pinot Noir that I bought more to commemorate our visit, and a truly yummy black raspberry dessert wine served with chocolate. I am a newcomer to dessert wines, but this was definitely worth having.

The town was still very busy, and that made it less than appealing, so we went shopping for some incidentals, and drove home to have yummy leftovers for supper and visit with our neighbors. They were from the Netherlands, had traveled to Nova Scotia on a freighter, rented an RV in Halifax, drove south to New York, planning to return the RV in Toronto, then take the train to Manitoba where they will rent a car and drive to Minnesota to meet friends they met on the freighter. Wow! One of the gentlemen was a rose breeder who had worked in the US, and the other one told a very funny story about some adventure they had in Texas. You haven’t heard anything till you have heard someone from the Netherlands trying to do a Texas accent!

Tomorrow we will try to find the Grand Canyon of the East in Pennsylvania on our way to Ohio. By Monday, we will be in Casstown visiting friends for a couple of days. It’s hard to imagine that this trip is on the downhill side as we turn around and head back west.

September 10 back home to the States

The rest of the photos for this day of travels are here

The morning was cloudy and damp in Ontario and the day seemed gloomier yet with our need to find a place to repair the Tracker. Our plan was to cross the border, and then stop to see if we could find some kind of repair shop to check out the transmission. Without a phone or internet access, it’s so difficult to function reasonably. Garmin Girl proved so dependable taking us through complex freeway systems that we didn’t hesitate to try it again today. I drove the MoHo with Mo following behind in the Tracker while we set the address for some unknown place in West Seneca, New York.

The border crossing was uneventful, without even a request for our animal papers. Understandable in the MoHo perhaps because the cat was safely tucked away in his carrier. In the Tracker, though, Abby was clearly visible, and the agent didn’t say a word or ask for anything but passports. In a matter of minutes we were in Buffalo, on US soil, with miles again instead of kilometers. I pulled into a large parking lot in West Seneca, and Mo pulled in behind me. She hollered joyously when the Tracker slipped into neutral effortlessly. Who knows. But finally we could hook up the car again and be on our way through New York to our next destination.

The sweet little neighbors in Toronto told us about Watkins Glen, in the Finger Lakes District, and after reviewing the maps and checking mileage, we decided it was a much more relaxing destination than Blue Mountain Lake in the Adirondacks. Especially when we realized that we could actually stay two nights and have time to enjoy the trails and waterfalls. With my iPhone once again operational, I checked out campgrounds while Mo drove through the winding, gorgeous landscape of this part of New York. The hardwood forests are thick, lush, and green, with only a touch here and there of brilliant orange or red tips on the trees.

The KOA campground seemed the most likely choice from what I could see on the phone, and when I called they said they were nearly booked due to the Vintage Road Race being held today in Watkins Glen. She found a nook for us, though, and we took it. Expensive as heck, but it is Friday and we had no clue where we might land. The state park was our first choice, but it was also booked except for the dry camps that were first come first served. We opted for the KOA and shortly were settled in to a somewhat bumpy, marginal site near the pond. This KOA has an indoor swimming pool and spa which hopefully we will have time to try out tomorrow. The rest of the amenities aren’t that great, and our site doesn’t have sewer, cable hasn’t been installed out here yet, and the wireless internet connection is as slow as dialup. Ah well. We are camped and settled at least.

After reviewing the excellent brochures provided, we opted to spend the afternoon traveling towards Ithaca and the waterfalls and trails at the state parks in that area. I kept trying to remember why Ithaca was so familiar to me, but of course, Cornell University is there. And the Moosewood Restaurant, home of the vegetarian cookbooks that were my cooking bible back in the early 80’s. Geez.

By the time we were back on the road, the skies had cleared except for huge white puffy clouds punctuating the brilliant blue. Ahh. blue and white and green again. The tiny town of Watkins Glen, however, was completely off limits because of the races and the closing of the main streets in town. In dead stop bumper to bumper traffic, we asked the policeman how to get where we were going. The only route was nearly 50 miles out of the way. Pretty stupid for them not to have some kind of detour set up for travelers trying to get around in the area. Back to the iPhone which allows me to see the actual aerial photo and maps and try to come up with a route. The GPS has no idea about closings and routes and only wants an address. Once again, I sit in the passenger seat, two fisted navigating, phone in one hand, GPS in the other, and a map on my lap trying to get us through the crazy back roads to Taughannock State Park

Eventually we were successful, and the falls were delicate but lovely, and at 215 feet, the highest falls in the northeast. The trail around the rim of the canyon and the upper falls was well marked, fenced for safety from the extreme cliffs, and dog friendly. It was a great walk and felt good to be again in a place less populated than we have been recently.

After our hike, we were ready for supper, and I searched the reliable iPhone again for a good restaurant in Ithaca. There were dozens, but we decided on the BoatYard. The evening was cool, with a nice breeze, so we left Abby in the car with the windows a bit open to wait for us while we enjoyed our dinner. The restaurant was great, the service excellent, and we had steaks for the first time in a very long time, with a glass of California old vine zinfandel. Ahh, delightful! Until half way through dinner the hostess came looking for us to report that the police were waiting for us because someone had reported animal abuse because Abby was in the car. Mo stepped out to talk with them, and it was all OK, but it was definitely a bit disconcerting. Our relaxing, somewhat spendy dinner cut short, we packed up what was left and headed out to see Cornell University and the rest of Ithaca.

The town had seemed so peaceful, but once we entered the Collegetown area it became obvious just how big Ithaca really is, especially with all the students in town. It was crazy traffic, and students everywhere, steep, winding streets, and no clue as to where we were trying to go. Even with my two fisted navigation, it was a mess. After a quick look at the main part of Cornell, we wound our way back through town and south to try to find our little KOA home. Again, with the roads closed in Watkins Glen until after nine, I had to find an alternative. This time we routed some very back roads, and over a very steep hill we hooked up with 414 south, just a few miles north of the KOA.

Whew! Home! Out came the leftovers, and we settled in to our evening at home with plans for more waterfall hiking tomorrow.

September 9 Our day at Niagara Falls

The rest of the photos for this day are linked here>

Gee, think I look tired here? LOL Guess all this fun is hard work!

This day marked the “big day” of our Northern Tour, the visit to Niagara Falls. While lovely, dramatic, and a sight not to be missed, I am not so sure that other parts of the trip may qualify as “big days” as well. We knew that getting through Toronto during morning rush hour was something to avoid, so set the alarm for 5am and did everything we could the night before except actually hooking up the Tracker.

Everything went well, quick morning tea in the microwave, pull in the slide, lower the levelers, start the engines, dump the tanks on the way out, and line up for hooking up the towed. UhOh. For some unknown reason, the four wheel drive transfer case for the Tracker refused to budge and Mo couldn’t get it into neutral. We tried everything for a time, but with the clock ticking and traffic vibrating on the nearby 401, we decided to just go.

I drove the MoHo and Mo followed in the Tracker. Of course, our phones were not turned on, and we hoped to keep track of each other on the highway until we were back in the United States. I must say, Garmin Girl earned every single cent of her price this morning. I negotiated the many “collectors” adjacent to the expressway, together consisting off 10 lanes of traffic, all the way through Toronto. Even at 6am, the cars were thick, filling every lane and going close to 100km per hour. I couldn’t see Mo very well in the backup camera since it was still dark, but sometimes she would show up in the side mirror, negotiating a lane change for me. We traveled through town, through Burlington, following Garmin Girl as if she knew what she was doing, and thank goodness she did!

In just a couple of hours we were in Niagara Falls, Ontario, and found the King Waldorf RV Park on Stanley Road. Setup was uneventful in the nearly empty park, and are reserved space was expensive but only five miles or so from the falls. Many of the parks in this area run up to $75.00 a day, so we were happy to pay only $45.00.

What can I say about Niagara that hasn’t already been said. The falls are truly a world wonder, and much like another world wonder, the Grand Canyon, seem a bit less so viewed from above. Only after we took the Maid of the Mist tour to the base of the falls did I feel the true majesty of the mighty Niagara River, draining 4 of the 5 Great Lakes over these rocky cliffs. It was a thrilling moment.


Maid of the Mist was the highlight of visiting Niagara		Horseshoe Falls on the Canadian side is the more dramatic fall

Much of the Niagara experience is a calculated money making endeavor, with ticket times and lines, and people movers, a bit like Disneyland. The Maid of the Mist, tourist attraction though it may be, is worth every bit of tourism kitsch endured. We also saw the Niagara Fury Omnifilm, a nice effort, and toured “Behind the Falls’”, which from the Canadian side was a bit of a let down. The rest of the day we spent walking on our own through the gardens along the canyon walls, admiring the water and watching the “Maids” make their journeys.