Pandemic Escape Trip

 After a year of staying close to home and seeing only a few friends, we were climbing the walls and ready to roll. So, after our second shots, we planned a looping drive that took us from the Oregon Coast to the Grand Coulee Dam and from rain and wind, to snow and fog, and to bright sunlight.

 

Almost every trip that finds us heading to the coast includes riding the ferry across the Columbia at Westport, Oregon. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s a 10-minute ride on a ferry that holds about 15 cars. It ends up in Cathlamet, Washington, where, in the interest of stimulating the economy, we chowed down at Patty Cakes Café. (Salmon Panini highly recommended).

   

Then it was on to Dismal Nitch.

 Since it plays a small but crucial role in Mike's new book Angus McHaggis and the Bashful Sasquatch, he insisted on stopping there.

Lewis and Clark were pinned down there for five days, waiting out wind and high waves and dodging stones brought down by torrential rains. Was it a stroke of irony that the visitors’ center was closed and we couldn’t get to the actual nitch? We pondered that in our room overlooking the Astoria Bridge.

 

 Heavy rain abated overnight, but showers continued, the temperature hovered in the high 40s and the wind picked up. Depoe Bay was packed with spring breakers in shorts and sandals. We strolled past them in our layers and waterproof jackets, eyeing the breaking waves and rising swells.

 Were we relieved to find our whale-watching excursion was cancelled? We’ll let you decide.

 Later, on the beach at Newport, we discovered a “gift” from the waves, a huge orange fishing net float. 

 

Mike also discovered some world-class crab cakes and potato salad. If you find yourself in Newport, treat yourself to a meal at Georgies.

 

 In the morning, it was on to Bend. The storm that cancelled our boat trip had dropped snow in the mountains, but the sky was clear and the road was mostly plowed and slick in only a few spots. There were great views of the mountains including the Sisters and the peak below. Little did we know this was a training run for a later drive through another pass.

Three Finger Jack

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next day we headed for Baker City through the John Day Fossil Beds. Unless you prefer the canyons formed by tall buildings, this is fascinating terrain with rock formations in a range of colors that vary in intensity depending on the light.

 At Baker City we visited the city’s impressive historical museum and then headed for the Snake River through amazing canyons. Unfortunately, snow squalls blew in and, after a review of the meaning of mortality, we turned back and checked in at the Geiser Grand Hotel. http://www.geisergrand.com/

It’s a regular destination for ghost hunters and stories abound, but we didn’t see a single wisp or shimmer, and we didn’t hear things go bump in the night. Although the chandelier above Carolyn's bed swayed, We're pretty sure that was due to air from a nearby heat vent. But, maybe not.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you’ve never been to Baker City, consider putting it on your bucket list. Where else can you find statues of baboons on roofs, an alligator crawling down a wall, ostriches and camels and a sculpture inspired by salt licks?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An inch of snow lay on the ground, but we told ourselves the storm would blow through and headed for Joseph and views of the Wallowa Mountains. The view mostly was obscured by snow and by the time we reached Joseph it was piling up, laying four inches on statues along the main street.

 

 

 

 

Again, we turned back, making a quick stop at a delightful small library in Wallowa. We were overjoyed to be allowed in and to be able to touch books not delivered curbside in a paper bag.

 At Elgin, we decided to go for 204 to Weston and then on to Walla Walla. After about 15 miles we encountered snow but this time we forged on—partly because turning back would have added many miles to our trip, but mostly because looming snow banks hemmed us in and narrowed the road so that turning would require several moves and put us at risk of being slammed by traffic coming the other way. Near the top of the pass, fog closed in and visibility dropped so much that it was difficult to see more than 50 feet ahead. 

It was nerve wracking, but you know we made it because Carolyn is writing this. Mike's note here. Carolyn has forever earned her title of "W.P. D. I. C." 

 

 

 

For the uninitiated that's "Winter Pilot Directly In Charge."

 

 

If you love wine, Walla Walla is a good place to stay. If you’re not a wine lover, it’s still a fine small city and many of the shops and restaurants were open for business in some form.Plus there were some interesting sculptures. You can try to figure this one out. We couldn't.

Thriving was not a word we'd use to describe many of the small towns we passed through on our way to Dry Falls and Grand Coulee Dam. We saw clear evidence of the wreckage left by closures and economic hardship—businesses closed not just for the season but forever, and a general air of weariness, frustration, and futility. Few cafes were open and many restrooms were locked. When we reached the dam and found the visitors’ center shut down, the joy of road-tripping faded in a serious way. But still, the dam was something Mike vowed to see in his lifetime and he got his wish. He claims he could hear Woodie Guthrie singing This Land is Your Land as he peered out at the immense structure.

We headed for Wenatchee and, by accident because we don’t possess a GPS and were without a map, settled in a hotel with a great view of the river. And we reached the point where, even though there were miles to go and a few things we wanted to see, the trip was over.

 

 

 Well, nearly over. Because there were still the rolling hills around Goldendale to see—hills where wind turbines stalked the crests, spinning with the steady current of air coming down the Columbia Gorge. 

 

  

 

And there was still Stonehenge to admire.

 

Okay, it’s only a replica, but the setting at the edge of the drop to the Columbia is stunning. The shadows cast by a sun a week past the equinox were stark, and those shadows indicated it was time to be home again.

 

 

The Great Winter Road Trip

By Carolyn Rose and Mike Nettleton

Carolyn: Although we both have fond memories of the days when we could toss a few things in the car and take off, one of us is realistic enough to know those days are gone.

Mike:   Boy, I miss those days when you could find yourself in Reno, Nevada, with 74 cents, no gas in the VW, and no clue how you’d get home.

Carolyn: So, with that in mind, I devoted significant time to researching a new car for the trip, then more time to making lists and gathering an assortment of warm- and cold-weather clothing, towels, plastic bags, paper plates, dog toys, dog tranquilizers, dog bed, books, maps, spare pillows, flashlights, and food. As it turns out, we never needed the kitty litter (for tire traction) or the gallon of water. But everything else came in handy.

Mike: Cue the banjo music. She’s right, of course. Still, I could have sworn I could hear Homer and Jethro singing “Come listen to my story 'bout a man named Jed. Poor mountaineer barely kept his family fed,” as we rolled down the road.

Carolyn: And pre-planning paid off. When I noticed I-84 was closed yet again and the temperature in Ontario, Oregon, was -7 two days before we set out, we changed our plans and headed south and west instead of east and then south. That put us in Redding, CA, the first day, and just outside of Bakersfield on the second.

Mike: Bakersfield. I won't say it's ugly but-

Carolyn: Careful, bucko, we might have to go back there some day. On day 3 we left freeway driving behind and, more by accident than design, took old Route 66 through rugged country to Oatman, AZ.

 

 

Mike: Oatman is an old mining town up in the mountains. When we passed through, the streets were packed with tourists and wild burros wandered around trying to cadge something to eat.

After an hour and a half of 20 mph switchbacks, we finally made it to Laughlin, Nevada. Despite being dominated by casinos,
 

 

the town does have some charm, with a river walk that meanders along its length. Across the water is Bullhead City, Arizona, a haven for the AARP set who ford the stream periodically to blow their Social Security checks. I’m somewhat chagrined (but mostly proud) to admit I relieved them of $265 by co-winning a morning poker tourney at the Colorado Belle, a casino disguised as a riverboat.

Carolyn: I bid a fond farewell to my new favorite slot-machine game, Cops and Doughnuts, and we headed east, stopping briefly at Walnut Canyon (no dogs allowed on the descending trail) and then the Painted Desert. 

The day was overcast, but occasional sunbeams lit up the hills and we enjoyed the show.

Then it was on to Albuquerque where we stayed with a friend from my VISTA days and turned her on to the benefits of CBD, the non-psychoactive ingredient in medical marijuana for her arthritis pain. So far, it seems to be helping. https://www.projectcbd.org/what-cbd

Mike:  I snuck in a game of golf with an old friend before a snowstorm hit, ate red chile enchiladas with my ex-partner, and shared an hour or two of telling lies about the good old days with another old pal. We also broke bread with several of Carolyn’s former co-workers and a couple from our old neighborhood.

Carolyn: Timing our departure between storms, we headed for Phoenix to visit my aunt, then scooted for Prescott, a wonderful city with the best of the old and new. 

 We’re thinking this might be a place to spend part of next winter, so Mike checked out the golf courses, theaters and the library and I made note of grocery stores and 

walking trails. Max made note of a dead javelina by the side of the road. He thinks it might be fun to own a wild pig of his own.

The next day I navigated us on back roads through the desert toward Lake Havasu. At a crossroads with three houses and a single store, we met a man walking a dog named Whiskey. I think he was named after his owner’s breath. The little mutt was about Max’s size and wearing a torn green dog sweater. Max isn’t much for dog clothing, so I offered Whiskey an orange sweater our Malty dog wore exactly once. Whiskey and his owner were delighted.

 Mike:  I liked Lake Havasu more than I thought I would. 

It had some charm, mixed with kitsch and classic American tackiness. London Bridge crosses a canal they dug for it, and despite being a bit underwhelming was kinda cool. 

We passed through the spectacular country around Boulder Dam on our way to Las Vegas. 

Since they wouldn’t let us up to the viewpoint with Max (security concerns) this shot from the car window was about the best we could do. I guess they’re afraid our little dog might have been carrying a shoulder launched missile. 

 We did pull into a viewpoint with a spectacular vista overlooking Lake Mead 

Winding down the mountain, we scurried into Las Vegas and a visit with our goddaughter and her kids.

Carolyn: Rain cut short our visit to Spencer Lodge, which is not a charming vacation inn, but the name of the son of a friend and an archaeologist at the Desert Wildlife Refuge 

 https://www.fws.gov/refuge/desert/

 That afternoon, we headed for Tujunga, scooting in before LA traffic reached gridlock. Max enjoyed being out of the car for 8 days and roaming the terraced garden in the back yard of Michael and Mia’s home. 

One of the highlights of our stay was a visit to Descanso Gardens. We enjoyed the less manicured and more natural arrangement of shrubs and plants, and I especially enjoyed the huge spreading oaks. 

https://www.descansogardens.org/ 

You oughta see the other guy.

 While in the Los Angeles area, I took up a new hobby. Senior citizen cage fighting. Great fun; they escorted us into the cage with our walkers, positioned us about a foot apart, blew a whistle and cheered and whistled while we whaled the crap out of each other. 

  Carolyn: Actually, he fell down and went boom while walking Max.

Mike: Damned sprinkler head.

Carolyn: With a forecast for 4-7 inches of rain, we decided to leave a day earlier than planned and head north. Along the way we saw fields filled with standing water and rivers reaching the tops of their banks. After a stormy night in Redding when the motel staff piled sandbags around one door, we canceled plans to take twisting and mountainous roads to the coast and stayed with I-5.

 Watching a mile-long row of big trucks chaining up, we feared we’d have to turn back, but research paid off and our AWD Toyota was waved on when other vehicles headed for the off ramp.

 

Mike: The stretch around Lake Shasta was kinda white knuckle, but really, not bad, all things considered.  The rest of the drive was fast and uneventful. Even with delays through the mountains it only took us 7 1/2 hours to get home.

Luckily it didn’t look like this when we pulled in. We timed our vacation perfectly to miss the ice and snow storm of the decade in Vancouver and everything had melted off by the time we arrived.

It was a memorable trip, gave us a chance to catch up with old friends and family, but as Max, the quivering doggy hulk will tell you.