Home, again. Home, again.

Returning home after a long trip is when the reminiscing begins. You no longer see new sights or discover new places, no longer meet new people with “funny” accents or experience the culture they represent. But, you re-live the trip in memory. And, in remembering far away places, you are also reminded of why you return home.  The desert is endlessly beautiful in a duo chromatic sort of way. The huge gashes in the earth with their inconceivable striated colours and impossible rock sculptures are breathtaking. The foamy surf that crashes along miles of either soft golden sand or black lava rock is a feast for the eyes and a symphony for the ears. Even the weather, although hotter than comfortably tolerable for this traveler, is dependable. But there’s something both comforting and refreshing in the cool lushness of the Canadian rainforests which paint the coastal mountains green from sea level to summit. And isn’t the anticipation of changing seasons just a little exciting?

Make no mistake, however, we did not wish our way home. We enjoyed every stretch and turn of the road except, perhaps, the noisy concrete freeways, every surprise encounter, except, perhaps, a blinding rainstorm just outside the Grand Canyon, and every person we met, except, perhaps, one indifferent desk clerk. But it’s returning home in light of what you've seen and done on the road that rekindles an appreciation for the familiar. Of course, we also return for practical reasons. Home is where all our “stuff” is.  Home is where our work is. Home is where our house and our other cars are. But, it’s just possible that we return home because that’s where friends and family are and, accordingly, where we left our hearts.  

Enough gush. Here are a few statistics from our trip to either bore or amuse you. Some are true. Some are not. You decide.

Days on the road:                               32
Bottles of wine consumed:                32

Days of sunny weather:                      30

Amount of rain:                                   30 minutes

Days over 70 Deg F (21C)                 27

Days over 90 Deg F                            20

Days over 100 Deg F                          7

Days over 110 Deg F                          2

           

Kilometers driven:                               7,500

Kilometers of desert crossed:            7,450

Rest stops seen:                                 150

Rest stops visited:                               150

Motorhomes towing vehicles:               50

Motorhomes towing a pickup truck towing a trailer carrying a Jet-Ski:           1

Blown truck tires:                                 200

Crashed trucks (probably the result of a blown tire):                                      1

Animals:                                             1 herd of buffalo, 1 herd of elephant seals, 1 herd  of elk, 1 cave bat, 4 mosquitoes.

Road kill:                                             1,223

         

Gift shops seen:                                 450

Gift shops visited:                               450

Gift shop purchases:                          4

           

Thanks to everyone who left comments on the blog and to those who just checked in once in awhile to see where we were.  I enjoyed writing about this once in a lifetime road trip and sharing it with friends and family. But most of all Frank and I hope you enjoyed the ride. 

Until our next trip. . . . 

Day 31: The road to Kelso, WA

It was a typical west coast fall day, cloudy, then misty, then drizzly. A walk on Cannon Beach revealed the eerie side of Haystack Rock, shrouded in mist and gloom. The air was brisk and the mist chilled us. It was time to head north which only held promise of rain and more cold temperatures.

When we arrived at Seaside, OR, about 20 minutes north, the weather was no worse than at Cannon Beach and the wind was perfect for the American Kite Flyer’s Association Conference. There were a few flyers on the beach but, we arrived at lunch time and decided to eat first then go back to the beach when we expected there would be more kites. However, during lunch the weather changed for the worse, it began to rain more heavily and, when we returned to the beach, no one was there, let alone kite flyers.

But all was not lost. We wandered in to the The Buzz, “The largest selection of candy on the Pacific Coast” – homemade fudge, caramel apples, all kinds of chocolates and chocolate dipped treats, giant Pez and even “black lab poop” (I have no idea). It’s hard to admit this after our two scoops of ice cream yesterday, but we left with a thickly layered caramel apple for Frank and some almond toffee for me.

We stopped for the night at Kelso, Washington, the gateway to Mount St. Helen’s, but that excursion will have to wait for another trip.

We’re now within striking distance of home. It’s sad to know that our trip is coming to an end; that our explorations, discoveries and experiences are behind us and the road home is only about 5 hours long. On the other hand, however, it’s comforting to know that tomorrow night we will be in familiar surroundings, living out of a closet, not a suitcase and sleeping in our own bed without having to check in first. Besides, I MISS MY BARBECUE!   

Until tomorrow. . . .

Day 30: Depoe Bay and the road to Cannon Beach

There are several legends surrounding the naming of Depoe Bay, Oregon but the one most  commonly accepted (at least according to information obtained in the Whale Watching Centre) seems to be that it was  named after William Charles DePoe, a Joshua Indian, who worked at a US army supply depot in the 1850’s. He became known as Depot Charlie. The final spelling of Depoe Bay may have been a misinterpretation (Depot/Depoe) or even a correction to simplify print materials (DePoe to Depoe).

Regardless of how it officially came into being, Depoe Bay boasts the smallest harbour in the world. This was evidenced as we watched two coast guard boats navigate and negotiate the narrow harbour opening over extremely rough, bounding surf. I was getting seasick just watching. It also has the second roughest coastline surf in the US, next to the Columbia River bar.

Depoe Bay is also a famous centre for whale watching. From the Whale Watching Centre, beyond the large rocky surf, we saw the water spouts of a grey whale. A chart outside shows the average monthly sightings of whales from the centre. But, it has been a better than average year for sightings. The average for October is 58, but there had already been 101 so far this month. I guess the one we saw will make it 102.

As if wine tasting and olive tasting weren’t enough, as we made our way north along Highway 101, there it was, Tillamook, OR and the Tillamook Cheese Factory. Their cheese tasting room included curd, otherwise known as “squeaky cheese”, mild, medium, aged and super-aged, and two flavoured cheeses, pepperjack and black pepper and garlic. I’ve always understood that American cheddar isn’t as good as Canadian cheddar, which of course could be a Canadian’s opinion. But, I found it interesting that T.S. Townsend, who established the first Tillamook cheese making plant in 1894, hired Peter McIntosh, a Canadian cheese maker specializing in the cheddaring process. Tillamook cheese makers were so impressed with McIntosh’s skills and the recipe he brought with him from Canada that they still use his recipe today. And, oh yes, Tillamook makes only cheddar. Their facility includes the tasting room, of course, a store full of all their cheeses, an ice cream counter (two huge coops for $3.00), a café that offers sandwiches, burgers, chips, a fudge bar, and two gift shops. But, the most fascinating offering was the glassed in observation deck where one can view the processing plant: the holding vats on one side and the assembly line of cutting, weighing and packaging on the other. After we enjoyed our chocolate peanut butter, caramel praline, and black cherry ice cream, we left with four different cheeses and a daydream of a facility that would offer wine tasting, olive tasting and cheese tasting all under one roof. Sounds like heaven to me.

We knew we were near Cannon Beach when the “haystacks” came into view. These conical rock sentries of varying sizes are iconic on the Oregon Coast. They stand majestic and proud in the filtered sunlight and eerie and menacing in the mist.

Cannon Beach is a wood clad coastal town of heritage buildings consisting of boutiques, galleries, cafes and inns. Even on a sunny day such as today, it is delicately laced in marine mist. This only serves to nurture the beautiful gardens that abound throughout town. We found many of the hotels and inns too pricey for our budget. However, on leaving town, we came across one last inn – one of the wood clad buildings – and took a chance. The host was very friendly and the surroundings pleasant and quaint. He directed us to a small but charming ground floor room that opened onto a garden with a koi pond and small waterfall. While we having our supper at a private table outside our room, the host popped his head out of a nearby door and asked if we wanted wine glasses for our bottle of wine. I told him we were already drinking out of the coffee mugs from the room. He disgustedly shook his head and brought us two just-polished wine glasses. He declined our invitation to join us but we sat back and basked in the glow of his hospitality and the very tranquil setting. And, we were still on budget.

Until tomorrow. . . .

Day 29: Road to Depoe Bay, OR

When you start to feel warm and fuzzy at the sight of trees turning fall colours and you expect rain when you see a little mist in the valley and you know that once it starts it won’t stop for a very long time, you’re starting to get just a little homesick. So you remind yourself there are still plenty of beautiful places to visit and sights to see on your northward trek: like taking the scenic byway route instead of the I-5, along the Umqua River through the Umqua Valley toward the Oregon Coast. Even when we weren’t within sight of the blue, green and brown lady meandering through the valley, we wound through gorgeous open range farmland; if you painted the slow cattle grazing in the gold and green fields around white wood-sided houses and red barns, no one would believe it to be true.

On a less picturesque note, we stopped at McDonalds in Sutherlin, OR and ordered a couple of smoothies to legitimize our using their restrooms. Frank suffered his first brain freeze in many a year but was somewhat compensated by his winning an Angus burger in their Monopoly game. Closed door, opened window.

Near the mouth of the Umqua, just before Reedsport, we encountered yet another wildlife surprise. A herd of elk, mostly females, were lazing about in a field or chomping on whatever delicacies the creek had to offer. Young males fraternized with the females while an older buck lay in the grass apart from the group no doubt watching over his harem.

The coast of Oregon is breathtaking – and incongruous. Thick green forests so lush you can smell the dampness open onto soft white “mountains” of sand sprouting dry shrubs and windblown grasses. In fact, we drove for days across the interior deserts of the US and never saw as much sand as we saw in the dunes of one Oregon State park on the coast.  

Once we left the Oregon dunes behind, blue water and white surf constantly in violent motion took over the coastal vista. Where there isn’t a soft white sand beach, there is black rock which pushes up “haystacks” just off shore.

Cape Foulweather, just south of Newport, was discovered in 1778 by Captain James Cook and was his first landing point on the Pacific Coast. He apparently landed in bad weather with winds up to 100 mph and gave it the name that holds today. Other than the obvious description of the weather he encountered, I would love to read about his impressions of this beautiful rugged, violent coastline.

We stopped so often along the coast that we fell short of our original destination of Cannon Beach. We revised it to Lincoln City and finally settled on Depoe Bay. After watching the surf crash against the shore and billow over the wall onto the sidewalk, we booked a room at the Troller’s Inn.  Our room is very quaint with pretty touches such as antique furniture, hand knocked mats, a wrought iron style headboard and a quilted coverlet. (And all within our budget).

From the veranda we watched the sunset through the trees over the ocean.

Until tomorrow. . . .

Day 28: The Oregon Caves

So far on our trip, we’ve seen the indescribable sculptures of Red, Bryce and Grand Canyons, heard the phenomenon of 200 voices blend as one and witnessed the broad brushstrokes of crashing turquoise surf paint the California coastline.  Today, we witnessed an art form that was difficult to name – a   combination of stone sculpture, water art, and landscape architecture created in the absence of vegetation and sky over hundreds of thousands of years. Such is the beauty and mystery of the Oregon Caves. And this doesn’t even touch on the science behind the formation of the caves which I won’t pretend to understand.

A long and winding 20 mile road that felt more like 50 miles delivered us to the cave entrance.The cave was discovered in 1874 by Elijah Davidson, a hunter, whose dog was chasing down a deer when it ran into the cave with Elijah after him. Elijah had only a handful of matches to light his way and when they were exhausted he was in total darkness; he had only his sense of touch and the sound of an underground stream to lead him to the outside. The legend tells that it took Elijah almost 4 hours to find his way out of the cave but when he reached the outside his trusty canine companion was waiting for him.

The temperature inside the cave was 44 degrees (F) and the air was fresh and damp. Water dripped from the ceiling, a natural part of the formation of stalactites and splashed onto the floor, where stalagmites are formed. Over thousands of years, if undisturbed by nature or man, they will eventually meet in a “column”.  OK, so maybe I understand some very basic science.

The tour through the cave is about 1 kilometre long and includes 500 stairs and narrow passageways as low as 45 inches. The route has been enhanced over the years to include concrete walkways, and metal hand rails and stairways. These have been put into place, not only for the comfort of visitors to the caves but to help preserve the integrity of the very fragile environment. Around the turn of the century, in the early days of tours into the caves, visitors would touch the walls, climb on the formations and break off souvenirs. The renovations have reduced the human impact on this environmentally and geologically sensitive arena.

The Oregon Caves is an underground art gallery well worth the price of admission at $8.50 and the arduous drive to get there.

Until tomorrow. . . .

Day 27: The Road to Grant's Pass

Even the long “get there” driving day such as today can afford small treats along the way. Sacramento Valley is a wide expanse of agricultural land. Along Interstate 5, hectares of olive orchards flanked by processing plants and huge fields of yellow crowned rice spread out across the countryside. (I also understand that the Sacramento Valley is a big producer of tomatoes as well).

The treat? A huge billboard on the highway announced “olive tastings” at the upcoming Granzella deli, restaurant and inn in Williams, California. Being big olive fans, we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to sample local olives. But my expectations were not high.  I thought we might find a small restaurant that would charge for samples or provide a few olives if we bought a meal. But, the outlet was surprisingly large and contained a full service restaurant, a pub, a deli, an ice cream bar (gelato, not soft serve). And, yes, an olive bar consisting of a variety of open jars of olives grown and processed in the Williams area, all for the sampling.  They were delicious – crunchy, not soggy like some commercial olives can be with a well balanced salt content.  We left with a medium jar of Sicilian, a medium jar of garlic flavoured (not stuffed) and a small jar of pickled garlic cloves. I was as giddy as if I had been to a wine tasting. Hmm, there’s an idea: a combined olive and wine tasting room. It was a pleasant surprise and worth the diversion into Williams from the I-5.

And, just when you think the freeway will roll on forever through all that farmland, you round a curve and up pops Mount Shasta, guarding the skinny pine forests of the higher altitudes of the Pacific Northwest.  The bit of rain we drove through as we were arriving in Grant’s Pass was a mere foreshadowing of the lower altitude rainforests we have yet to pass through. (And so was the change in temperature; it was 91F when we stopped for gas in Redding, CA and around 60F when we arrived in Grant's Pass).

Until tomorrow. . . .

Day 26: Napa Valley

This installment is dedicated to those friends and family members whom I know are wine lovers. Today was spent driving through the Napa Valley region, otherwise known as wine lover’s heaven. As I write, I’m sipping on a glass of St. Clement Chardonnay.

In a perfect world we would have stopped at every winery, tasted every wine and bought a sample of every tasting. In a perfect world, we wouldn’t be concerned about over imbibing, or drinking and driving. In a perfect world, a limousine would have pulled up to our hotel and whisked us away to enjoy the fruits of the Napa Valley. But, the world’s not perfect and neither are we. So, our aim was to select one winery, enjoy a tasting, and buy a bottle or two if so inspired. So, we drove north on highway 29 passing acres of vineyards, supporting dozens and dozens of wineries. Most appeared to be espaliered with some close pruned into perfect rows and dark purple clusters hanging off the bottom of each row, while others were propped up on their wire supports with vines hanging haphazardly hiding the grapes from passersby. Apparently, most of the whites have been harvested, except for the Chardonnay and the reds will be harvested in the next week or so. We felt somewhat privileged to be visiting the wine country of the US during harvest season.

The first winery we visited was V. Sattui, just south of St. Helena, which came recommended by a volunteer at the tourist office in Napa (the city, not the valley) and is celebrating its 125^th anniversary. Besides the usual tastings of their boutique wines, V. Sattui offers to put together a picnic lunch selecting from over 200 varieties of cheese, sausage and wine to be enjoyed in their garden picnic area. The building was beautiful, the grounds were beautiful, the weather was beautiful but it was insanely busy. The tasting room was huge and packed with giggly samplers. The gift shop had unique items, albeit somewhat pricey, but the crowds made it difficult to shop comfortably. It was all a bit too claustrophobic.  We left without sampling or buying but would definitely consider returning on a non-Columbus Day weekend.

A little further north along the highway we stopped at St. Clement Winery. A short climb uphill from the parking lot brought into view a Victorian style home with a wide veranda. Cozy couples and small groups sat casually around the treed yard sipping on glasses of red or white; the occasional full bottle anchored a romantic couple to a bistro table overlooking the valley they were apparently ignoring. The whole scene was the antithesis of the Sattui vineyard and thus perfect for us.

We engaged in a sampling of 5 wines, 2 white and 3 red. However, I didn’t want simply to enjoy the wine itself, I wanted to learn a little about how to properly taste wine. It seems that it involves “S’s”. (My apologies to my sommelier friends who could not doubt explain this in more eloquent terms). First, you “swirl”. Swirl the wine in the glass to open up the vapours; then “sniff”. Inhale through the nose with your mouth slightly open to evoke the anticipated taste of the wine; it’s similar to smelling baked bread before you eat it. You’re already enjoying it. Then, “sip”. Toss the wine around the inside of your mouth so all your taste buds get a sample. This is where you can pick out the various elements or flavours (berries, pepper, vanilla, chocolate, etc.). Then “swallow”. This is the ultimate satisfaction; it also grants a bonus in the finish or lingering aftertaste. Wow, a sip of wine can be enjoyed for a long time.

The winery rep that directed our sampling was very knowledgeable and patient with all my questions. But, we also met a couple from Texas who really knew their wine. They have been visiting the Napa Valley and St. Clement Winery in particular for over ten years and generously imparted their insight on wine tasting including how to properly aerate wine.

We left with a bottle of Chardonnay – not my usual choice for a white wine. But, in the tasting, there was a slight, well balanced oak flavor that I found pleasing.  I thought that if the tasting was good, the bottle would be great. I enjoyed it, and I hate to seem inflexible, but my next bottle of white will probably be one of my usual favourites of Sauvignon Blanc or Pinot Grigio. Sorry, Chardonnay, but I tried.

Until tomorrow. . . .