THE ROAD TO THE VIEW RALLY IN NEHALEM, OREGON
June 2008
Wednesday–Humboldt Redwoods
It is close to eight P.M. as I write this in Burlington Campground within Humboldt Redwoods State Park. I met my new View owner friend, John the Gimp, here at three P.M. and we have been visiting and yakking like a couple of old women. I think this is going to be a good trip travelling with this guy as we are both quite similar in our easy laid back everything’s cool mode about doing things. One good thing already is he talked with the ranger ladies before I arrived and arranged it so I could park in his camp as a second car and only pay six dollars. I like the way this guy operates. Also, there are hardly any campers out. Normally I would think this place would have a fair number of campers being school is out and all. It would be nice if this pattern held out for the next two weeks.
I took Sinbad out for his evening walk, and then went for a walk myself eventually winding up at the ranger station. The younger girl was there by herself and we visited for a while. She was at Big Sur for two years doing ranger stuff but it was too expensive to live there. She has a daughter and her mother does ranger work also. The three of them lived in a little cabin in the woods and paid fifteen hundred a month, which included questionable water that grew mushrooms in the shower. They soon transferred back to Humboldt. She has a three to ten P.M. shift. Ten o’clock sure seems late, especially for when business is as slow as it is. She does not like this shift and would much rather do mornings. The poor thing is so skinny. She’s cute in her own way, but my goodness, she needs about thirty more pounds on her.
Walking back to camp I began talking to one Harley guy while his buddy was checking in. Both are probably early in their thirties. They are from Alberta and plan to ride down into Mexico, then hopefully Central America and maybe into South America. It really did not sound like they had done a lot of research into this. I rattled off a couple books and authors I have read of people doing such a trip and neither was aware of them. Oh well, good for them. At least they are pursuing a dream at a young age, even if the dream is a bit ill conceived. That’s okay as it leaves room for more adventure.
Well I am going to bed and start on a new book about an eighteen year old girl who was the youngest to solo sail around the world.
Thursday-Hello from Clam Beach.
We are back at a spot where Sinbad and I were a few weeks ago. It is a few miles north of Eureka and half the price of a State Park. From here, I am letting John the Gimp select the route he wishes to go for after all, it is all new to him being from the east coast. I think we will go along the coast part a ways then move inland. He has an appointment in Eugene, Oregon to have solar panels installed. That should be interesting as it is from the same people I was considering getting panels from. Now I can watch for I plan to install my own. At this point, I am not sure if I will need them for my electricity use is very minimal compared to John’s and my new batteries are much better than the stock set-up. He uses his heater more than I do due to his condition plus he watches TV and I do not.
Tomorrow we are going back into Arcata as he found out there are two sources for him to get his medical marijuana. That should be an interesting adventure I do not want to miss.
He showed me how to use the convection feature of the oven in these units. Up until now, I have only used the microwave part. Tonight I soloed and the fish sticks came out much nicer than when I microwave them, especially since the makers say “do not microwave”. I am so proud.
Friday–Smith River
John changed his mind on the weed as he felt he did not have the necessary paperwork being in California. He has only Florida documentation. He has been up since four-thirty A.M. and pulled out at six-thirty or so with no word. I step outside and he comes back saying he went to “chase a rainbow”. I could see it from here but whatever. Then he says he is in no hurry and closing in on seven-thirty A.M. he says he has “gotta go”. I am finishing my cereal and tell him Give me 5 minutes but he’s “gotta go” and will meet me at Redwoods National Park. Okay, this is not going as well as I thought it would. Once he leaves then I settle down and figure I will do what I want in my own time. So I shave and take my time then move out stopping here to walk the beach, and there to look for Roosevelt Elk. At Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park he has left word with the ranger to tell me he is on up at the next park. So I putz along at thirty five miles an hour enjoying the drive through the redwoods at my own leisurely pace. I find him there dumping his tanks, which he was intent on doing today. He tells me he is just having a bad day and this happens sometimes with his condition. Therefore, we work it out that we will just go with the flow as to how things go. I suggest we have at least an end of the day destination set so if we separate we can rendezvous there. He agrees. Up the road we stop at a greasy spoon diner (you could slide your feet along the floor for all the grease there was on it) for a hamburger (where he bites his tongue hard enough to cause it to bleed) then decide to stay someplace free, which I am all for. A few miles further at Smith River, we park at an Indian Casino place. This is nice, on the dirt off by itself. We talk with another RVer who has just come down out of Oregon ten miles north where they stayed at Harris Beach Campground, very nice with full hook-ups at twenty-two dollars. Now John thinks we should go there as he can be plugged in and charge up his batteries! It is Friday and the RVer said we might need reservations. I asked if it filled up last night (yes), and the RVer says we could always come back here. I know we are not going to get in. I never go to a campground on a Friday. I tell John to go ahead and I will meet him somewhere. He agrees and we get maps out to determine “somewhere”. When I return with my map, he changes his mind and decides to stay here! This is like traveling with a woman! I am not sure how this is going to hold together for two more weeks. He is tired and lays down for a nap around two P.M. or so. This gives me a chance to be alone where I walk down to the beach and watch the green tide roll in. It is this mucky green stuff. I cannot find anyone who knows anything about it. No marine life whatsoever. Pollution? Back at the RV, I am relaxing with a beer and writing. Seafood buffet tonight but at twenty-two dollars. I cannot afford it, but I sure would love a plate full of crab.
These RVers are in a Lazy Daze RV about the size of mine and have been living full time out of it for seven years now. She is sixty-two and he seventy-four. It was her idea and he was reluctant. They love this lifestyle. She was so much into life on the road and felt so bad for me (I only say that my wife doesn’t share the enthusiasm for road tripping as I do, I don’t go into the sordid details), fun, upbeat and a good looking sixty-two. I told Vince I was going to kidnap his wife. Although he was a bit overweight (too many Indian casino buffets?), he was active, tan and full of life. He is out there in the brisk air wearing only shorts while cleaning his RV. I had to put on a heavy coat. I enjoy talking to people like this. They make you feel good about yourself. Debbie, the RVer, is telling me what I can say to my wife. I told her I’d get further by talking to that wall over there, and be safer too, but I didn’t say that.
Saturday–Edson Creek, north of Port Orford, OR.
As for John I think I have him better understood and I try to keep in mind that everything may be a result of his accident. I learned he was in the truck driving through Yellowstone when two trees fell down across the road and crushed him in the truck. The first thing he remembered was flying in the medical EVAC helicopter and he asked “Where are we going?” The attendant said Idaho and John said “Cool, I’ve never been there” and passed out again. He came to, days later in the hospital. The Park Service paid for the entire medical ($100,000) and the care and transport of him and his possessions. They offered $240,000 and his attorney said he could appeal but if it was denied then he could possible not get anything. Being not greedy, he settled for the two-forty. This was in 2001. He later learned that the first person on the scene was a vacationing doctor from Australia. He crawled through on the passenger side and held John’s head still until they could get a collar on him. John says he owes him for saving him from being a quadriplegic for the rest of his life.
So I am seeing in him concern for details as to where we should go next and how to go about it. He will go over it several times throughout the day much of which includes changes of the mind. I am trying just to go with the flow but it can be taxing. Today we sort of went our own ways in the general direction with me leaving camp after him (again) and stopping here and there as I please. Meanwhile, he is doing likewise.
I came through a town and found him sitting in the sun on a street corner. He was doing laundry. He never said he was thinking of doing laundry today. It may have been a snap decision. I struggled for over an hour trying to get online which put me way behind “schedule” but somehow we met along the way, and that is how it has happened several times since. We stuck together for the last few miles arriving at a beautiful BLM Camp inland from the coast. We have the entire campground to ourselves, he at one end in the sun and I at the other. He wanted to be next to the creek to hear the water flow. I know how that is when trying to sleep at night. I went to the other end so I could listen to the birds plus I need some space. Perhaps he does also. Here you drive right onto the nicely mown lawn and camp. This grass looks like a golf course. There are birch trees, liquid ambers, pines, berry bushes, the said stream flowing, very peaceful all for only eight dollars with half off due to the my Annual Pass card daughter gave me for Christmas. We’ll stay at least two days here.
Sunday–Edson Creek still
I finally had time to go for my morning walk/jog. I went up the road we came in on and found quite a few very nice cabin style homes along the way. I can see why people would like to live here in this forest, as it is very quiet and secluded. I would not like it that much not only for being unable to see far into the distance but the homes do not get sunshine for the full day. But here in camp the sun shone full on all day and the temperature climbed up where I was able to just walk around in shorts. Now that was nice. I did some sorting, reorganizing and throwing out of some items, mostly first aid items that I have been hauling around for twenty-five years or more. What got me going on this was trying to locate my sewing kit so I could get a needle and dig out a splinter. It was then I realized I need to go through some of this stuff and what better day than today.
John came by today, one of a dozen of times, asking if I wanted to stay a third night. This was fine with me since it is so nice and the price is right. Naturally, late in the day, he’s changed his mind and we will “see how we feel tomorrow”. It was approaching dinnertime and he was here again pouring over possible campsites after this one. Knowing of course, all of this was tentative and subject to change, several times over. He was wearing me down and I needed to get on with dinner, a barbequed burger.
It is now six P.M., dinner is done and so are the dishes. I am listening to soothing mellow music while writing this and looking forward to getting back to my book for the evening.
Monday
Yep, he changed his mind and decided to not stay another night here. Just as well, for last night, I discovered my new bag of coffee is whole BEANS, not ground! Panic!! Therefore, I would have to go to town anyway and find some coffee or someone to grind my beans! Ha on me!
(Later Monday) I am at the bottom end of the Oregon Sand Dunes Area north of Coos Bay writing this. It is suppose to be ten dollars according to my ‘Cheap & Free’ campground directory but found it to be twenty instead. The U.S. Forest Service has raised fees evidently since the book was printed last year. With John the Gimp’s disability, he gets half off and we park two in a spot, with an additional “car” free. As I wrote, there are little issues and difficulties traveling with him so what do I do? Spilt away or hang in there? I feel I am prostituting myself in some weird way. Those who know me can appreciate the dilemma when it comes to saving a buck. A week from tomorrow he has that appointment in Eugene for the solar panel installation and for sure I have decided not to follow him inland for that. I do not care to waste the fuel and the solar panels may not be something I need after all. I suspect he will want to start working his way inland by the end of this week, maybe even sooner based on past experiences. Time will tell.
Tuesday
The morning held promise of sunshine but now at eight-thirty it is a light rain. Whatever John’s plan for the day is I am at least going to check out a nearby BLM free camp. The write-up depicts it as a boat ramp and John does not like that. I at least need to check it out. If we move on north I see some BLM Camps twenty miles east of Reedsport that are designated as FREE.
I neglected to mention that once arriving here yesterday and the drizzle stopped, I took the one plus mile trail around Bluebill Lake and saw a beaver up close. I think that is a first for me. Naturally I didn’t have my camera with me.
The umbilical cord has been severed.
When the rain stopped we both came outside. I told John I was going to drive up to the end of the road to see the ocean and planned on checking out the BLM camp after that, but would stop back by camp before doing so. He said he was ready to leave anyway. He wanted to go up the coast to Umpqua Lighthouse State Park, get hook-ups so he could run his heater, and be warm. I could find him there. “Sounds like a plan.” I looked at the ocean, came back and visited with the Forest Service Ranger who didn’t know of the BLM place until he read my book, then steered me in the right direction−right down to the other end of the road. He also looked at my Annual Pass Card and said he was ninety-nine-percent sure it was good for the half-off discount at Forest Service campgrounds. I do not think so but I am going to anyway quoting him if anyone asks.
At the BLM boat launch camp, I visited with the crusty old couple who have lived there for two and a half years out of their fifth wheel. First off, this place is nice, quiet, no one else here and best of all FREE. The host tells me about the wreck out on the coast and how twenty two million dollars are being spent to clear it away. Then he tells me about the twenty five million dollars spent on the railroad passing by which was used for two years until they discovered the tunnels the railroad went through were unsafe. He pointed out how the rails were all welded together into one smooth rail with no clickity clackity when the train rolls by. Also there are cement railroad ties, all very interesting and new to me. Then he went on about the repairs to the bridge crossing Coos Bay. When were done talking we had spent over a hundred million dollars in just a matter of a few minutes!
At the road’s end, I decided to hike out the sand road hoping to view the shipwreck. Just as I was ready to leave, a couple pulls up in their truck. They did not know much about this area but knew the story of the wreck for it had been all over the Oregon news. We started on separate trails and once on my way hiking through the woods, I felt as if a great weight had been lifted from me. I was free and unfettered and learned a valuable lesson: I am at my best when traveling alone. I think my serendipitous way of doing things was just too much for John’s way of thinking.
It was not long before our trails merged and the three of us walked and talked for several miles not ever getting any closer to the shipwreck. They were a nice couple from the northern part of Oregon on their way home. He is a retired instructor who went back to work part time at a private Catholic school. After a couple of miles, it became obvious the shipwreck was on the other side of the forest covered sand spit. Nadine and I were ready to turn back but her husband insisted on going further. We stood there visiting waiting for him to discover his own folly.
Back at the RV, I ate lunch while my legs twitched through recovery. I called John the Gimp who was already settled in at Umpqua, informed him of my newfound digs, and I would stay the night here, maybe two. He said he was cool with that and asked for me to call tomorrow if I did indeed decide to stay another night.
I decided to follow the campground host’s directions and park at the information turnout and hike in on that sand road to the beach for a view of the shipwreck. I had a grand time hiking through dense low forest at the dunes edge, along ponds with ducks and other bird life. At the ocean, I descended the dunes and stepped onto barking sands. Yep, it made a barking noise when you walked on it. Down the coast, I could see the wreck and I was seductively drawn to it walking a couple miles just to get a closer look. Now as I write this, I must have hiked close to eight miles today, much on sand and surely, I will feel it tomorrow.
Wednesday–North of Reedsport
We, meaning Sinbad and I, awoke to a foggy, drippy morning at the boat launch facility finding we still had the place all to ourselves. Soon three cars pulled up all of whom were going to get into the cold cold water and chase crabs. One, the older grey haired guy had scuba tanks while the other two would just snorkel. I would rather go to Safeway and get my Dungeness Crab than to freeze my testicles off trying to locate a freebie.
We went back over the long and high McCullough Bridge into North Bend where the library provided a good internet connection then into Coos Bay for the bags of salad I forgot to get on the last grocery purchase. We retraced our tracks north then stopped at Winchester Bay overlook for lunch. I had planned to turn inland at Reedsport and drive up the Smith River twenty-five miles to a free BLM camp. I missed the turn-off and reasoned anyway that the savings in the camp fee would be spent using the fuel for the fifty mile roundtrip, so I was not bothered much by my error in navigation.
Tankenitch Lake showed a Forest Service Camp and I wheeled in there and selected a site where the trees did not interfere with the satellite radio reception. Here the pay slot for the camp fee envelopes was taped off and a sign advised that the host would be around to collect fees, and she did in a matter of minutes. Camping was twenty dollars and I presented her with my Annual Pass Card and a ten dollar bill. She was quick to inform me that this card did not apply to a discount and I was quick to enter into my dumb mode. “Oh really? Gee, the Forest Ranger at Horsefall Beach honored it. I’m confused.” She was very nice and explained that the Forest Service planned to shut down many campgrounds due to funding cutbacks when a management agency stepped in and took over operations. She went on to list forest service camps up and down the coast in this district that would accept it (not being managed by the agency) and those that would not. By this time I was genuinely confused which she agreed all of this was very confusing indeed. “They’re always changing policy. In fact, I am to be at a meeting very soon. That is why I stopped by before I had to leave.” She then said “Oh poo” and took my ten dollars.
After taking Sinbad for a walk, I headed out on a nearby trail. The sign stated the beach was a mile and a half so off I went. The trail was straight out of Alice in Wonderland or some other fairy tale. Dense woods, thick undergrowth on both sides of a soft cushioned path enveloped by shrubs and giant rhododendrons covered with pink blossoms. After a half a mile, the trail broke free of the jungle and opened out onto the sand dunes. I stood there facing a one-mile slog through the dunes in order to reach the beach and water. No thanks. I went back to camp and brewed a cup of tea.
Thursday–Siltcoos Beach
After an earlier scouting mission for a likely camp spot for the evening, we motored north to just below Florence, Oregon. There along a five-mile long sand spit we drove out to the south jetty and parked for the day. Here the wind was whipping up fairly good creating a wind-chill factor that was none too comfortable. Nevertheless, being the intrepid sniveling adventurer I am, I explored around a quiet little bay then ate lunch. I took Sinbad out for a walk and tried to introduce him to the shoreline of the bay for which I received a nice claw gouging of my left hand. After I stitched myself up, I hiked through the dunes towards the surf...without Sinbad! Here the wind out of the north did all it could to keep me from making any progress to the jetty. Walking backwards did not help much. I saved three Sand Dollars from the gulls, played with a little crab then decided I had had enough abuse and walked the jetty road back to the RV.
Five miles back down Highway 101 and we pulled into Siltcoos Beach Campground where only one other camper resided, then after a cup of tea, we both laid down for a nap. Naptime was short-lived by the incessant droning sound of a leaf blower. The blower kept on and on where I finally had to go outside and try to determine where it was coming from. It seemed to be getting closer. I walked around the bend of the camp road and was blown away (no pun intended) by the sight of the campground host lady giving each campsite parking pad and the road connecting them a blowjob. Good grief, this is a National Forest campground, not Thousand Trails or KOA! This woman was determined to get every offending pine needle off the asphalt. I figured once she rounded the curve and saw a camper, us, which she would stop from coming any further. I figured wrong. I sat inside and was amazed that she came right up to the front bumper and worked her way back blowing to beat all hell. She crossed over to the campsite across from us, shut the contraption down, unstrapped it from her meaty back and sat down at the picnic table for a break. Here she lit up a smoke then proceeded to fill the gas tank of the leaf blower. I watched, I waited (and with what I am ashamed to say later, with a slight bit of hope), but nothing came of it. With her smoke break done, she put on her helmet and ear protectors, fired up the screaming monster and continued on starting at our back bumper. That was it. Now Sinbad was disturbed so out I went. The idiot woman is trying to hear what I have to say over the roar of the motor, pulls her one ear protector off to hear me better, but to no avail. I threw up my arms and yell “Forget it. It’s not worth the effort!” She says “I’m sorry sir. I have to clean the campground. I am almost done.” On the way out tomorrow, I am considering letting her know what it was of the conversation that she missed out on. The lunacy of cleaning a campground of pine needles, that I came here to get away from infernal contraptions like leaf blowers, that she woke me up from my nap and scared the bejesus out of my cat. I am not so sure if I should mention filling a gas tank while smoking a cigarette or just leave her to be a possible contender for a Darwin Award.
Friday
It is just too nice of a morning to deal with Blower Woman when I leave. I went for a hike this morning discovering several trails that could keep me entertained for a couple of days. The beach is nearby without requiring trudging through a mile of dunes. There are over a hundred campsites within in the two campgrounds and I would be surprised if a dozen campers are here. With the weekend upon us, I think it best to stay put with a sure thing and enjoy what we have. A good internet connection is just up the road a couple of miles by the lake resort then we will come back and stay in the campground across the road far away from Blower Woman who I suspect may plan to do some pruning with the electric hedge clippers today. Or perhaps steam clean the picnic tables for some have bird shit on them. Lord knows what she has planned to disturb the peace and tranquility of Lagoon Campground.
All the beaches with dunes, from California up I have been coming across roped off sections of dunes protecting Snowy Plover nesting areas. I never mentioned it until now for I was waiting to see my first bird, and today I saw her. Just a little thing, smaller than a robin, was running across the sand from her protected area toward the water. She never took flight.
The Snowy Plover lays her eggs right out on the open sand in the somewhat sheltered dunes. The speckled eggs, half the size of a golf ball and oval, are very well camouflaged, blending right into the sand, therefore easily crushed by foot or tire. In fact, any type of disturbance and the parents will abandon the nest. The female will lay three eggs, one each day and many nests are found containing only one egg. Evidently, it takes very little to frighten the parents away. I learned in this area, the Siltcoos Beach, there are only one hundred twenty-three birds and only seven nests have been located. When the biologists do find a nest, they will place a wire mesh cage over it to protect the nest from gulls and crows, yet the parents can still get through. In the thirteen years this area has been under protection during the nesting season, the population has increased by a hundred birds−not much for thirteen years. A Plover’s lifespan is two to three years.
When the chicks hatch (one each day) the male will protect the chicks for twenty-four days then they are on their own. If that wasn’t harsh enough, the parents do not feed them. After they dry out from the egg-hatching ordeal, the chicks must work their way down to the ebb tide to feed themselves. To make matters worse for these little balls of fluff, if a biologist catches them, they get a leg band right way. For a week afterward, they run around in circles until they fully develop the muscles in that leg with the band. (I made that last part up)
Sunday – Siltcoos Beach
Today we leave Camp Leaf Blower and Waxmyrtle, the latter being the loop across the road away from the crazy woman. Siltcoos Beach provided many wonderful experiences these few days. Great hiking trails, seeing fresh deer tracks and bear poop, finding some pretty cool shells, spotting my first Snowy Plover, an encounter with the herd of Harbor Seals sunning themselves on the sand and great weather even if a bit breezy. The word has it that showers are expected for this next weekend of the Rally. This may cause a problem with the daily microwave/convection oven cooking seminars, the quilting get-togethers (I am not making this stuff up) and pot lucks where we will be sitting around the campfire wearing Good Sam Club vests with name tags and AARP buttons, sandals and knee-high socks singing folk songs and discussing who’s awning is bigger and where the cheapest diesel is to be had. I have four days to kill before checking in so we cannot venture too far today as we are only a couple hours away from the festival grounds at Nehalem State Park. Therefore, I have lots of time to explore the coast leaving a full day to wash, wax and polish the motor home in preparation for the judging. (I am making that part up) There will be a two-hour presentation of all the modifications possible: suspension upgrades, the latest steps, nudge bar, installing multiple batteries, winch system, front and rear air compressors and hydraulic leveling systems. Why? It would be just more to deal with and more potential problems. I am all for keeping things simple. A published author and expert on drinking water safety and food dehydration will present a two-hour talk. Instead of installing a costly water filtration system I’ll just continue buying gallon jugs of water at Walmart for fifty-nine cents and do you know how many Top Ramens you get in a case for only a few dollars? Then, ooh boy, a live POD Cast from a dealer near the “Mother Ship” (this is what the Winnebago factory is referred to as) in Iowa as to what to expect on the new 2009 models coming out. That is at three-fifteen P.M. Too bad. That is teatime for this boy. And all that is just for Saturday. Sunday is a morning non-denominational service in the meeting hall (I’ll be on a trail communing with my own personal spiritual higher power), then a noon presentation on GPS and Geocaching. My GPS (AAA maps) work just fine. Finally, that afternoon is about the only thing I would be interested in hearing, “How to manage your RV without the need for generators, shore power (plugging in to an outlet) or expensive RV parks.” Being I don’t use the TV, DVD player, toasters, hair dryers, coffee makers, the air conditioner or run the heater all night as some do, my batteries never run low. I seriously doubt now that I will need the solar panel I was planning on getting. So why am I even going to this thing? When I find out, I will write about it. Meanwhile I am enjoying the journey; forget about the destination.
Oregonian Folk
We stopped in Florence at the Safeway store for a few supplies. Here I was able to observe Oregon people up close in their natural habitat. The temperature is fifty-two degrees, which permitted the indigenous population to cloth themselves in t-shirts, sleeveless tops, (two tank tops were noted), and shorts of varying lengths with short shorts not uncommon on the younger of the species. Sandals and flip-flops were in abundance. We then moved to the coast, at the North Jetty across the Siuslaw River from where we were a few days ago. Wind speed was noted to be at twenty to twenty-five mph creating a wind-chill factor of thirty-seven degrees. Clothing changed little except for the occasional hooded sweatshirt for the female of the species. Large sized dogs are very popular with black Labradors seemingly the more popular breed to own.
With my old insulated NATO coat, flannel lined Levis, knit cap and wool gloves I went out and braved the arctic-like conditions. No one noticed. Just a little over an hour later with nose running, face cold, sand in one eye and seriously sniveling, I returned to the motor home. The only thing worth noting out there is there were more driftwood on this side and all the seashells are on the south side. That and most of the people arriving here are not staying long. I suspect that it is due to the stinging wind-blown sand cutting their beach visit short, for they are not putting on more clothing. The funny part is the young families with a couple little ones in tow, spend more time getting out of the car, preparing, packing up and reversing the entire process than they do out on the beach. I am sitting inside my little home at the jetty parking area, listening to classical music and having a beer in honor of Father’s Day, which I just discovered, is t