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Ashland, OR and the Sacramento River
My daughter and I are returning from middle Oregon to San Diego in steps. Last night we stayed in a wonderful bed and breakfast, Country Willows, in Ashland, OR. http://www.countrywillowsinn.com/.
We did a little walking around looking at the wonderful poppies that grew in almost every yard,
and then went downtown to see a modernized version of Love’s Labours Lost in the outdoor Elizabethan theatre. Ashland is the home of the Oregon Shakespeare festival, as well as being a college town, so there were plenty of young people doing avante-garde things in the streets. Every night there is a free performance on the grounds between the three Shakespearean theatres. We listened to a talented group play Eastern European tunes before being seated for the play. Prior to this we ate at Green Leaf restaurant, which overlooks the waterway and has superb local and sustainably raised food, as well as many vegetarian dishes. Oh, yum. What a good meal!
After the play we drove back to the bed and breakfast, and it was nearly midnight, so I didn’t blog and I’m sorry. In the morning Daniel, who is the manager and chef created a wonderful breakfast served by one of the owners. We had sweet potato biscuits, orange and cherry juice layered in chilled glasses, orange and tangerine sections drizzled with raspberry coulis, poached eggs in tomato and cilantro sauce with black beans and fresh local greens, and decaf tea. It was tasty, nutritious, beautiful and creative to look at, and served in a wonderfully decorated room overlooking a pink flowering dogwood. Wonderful!
Today we drove to Sacramento and are staying on the Delta King riverboat on the Sacramento River http://www.deltaking.com/.
It is an historic real paddlewheeler which is now stationary. We strolled old town Sacramento which is all tourist shops in old storefronts, including about five candy stores.
Miranda spotted a train museum and we went in about half an hour before closing. I was expecting model trains and photographs… oh, how I wish that we had more time! The museum had full historic trains parked in it, along with life-sized displays surrounding them showing their point in history. The docents were incredibly knowledgeable and eager to share their knowledge, even though it was the end of the day. If you ever come this way, spend about two hours at the Sacramento Train Museum http://www.csrmf.org/. They even have a sleeper car that you may walk thorough that is rocks like when it was on the rails. Even people who aren’t big on trains will be awestruck by what they’ve accomplished here. None of my photographs from inside came out, and we were rushing through so I didn’t take many.
Afterwards we ate at one of the small shops then spent time outside of our stateroom watching the two bridges move for tall boats. The drive-across bridge raised and lowered, sounding a loud horn to let cars, pedestrians and bicyclists know that the bridge was going up.
On the other side of our boat there is a train bridge that spins to allow a boat through.
Very, very cool. We watched trains go past as well.
From the other side of the river we could hear the crowd shouting through a ballgame, and occasionally there were rowdies shouting or playing music at speaker-cracking volume from their boats as they cruised past (if they do it in cars, they do it on boats). It was pretty quiet for a Friday night. The stateroom was very comfortable; we made tea and drank it at the small table outside our room and watched the swallows swoop after moths in the sunset.
Tomorrow is an eight-hour drive home. It was a fun week, traveling solo, then celebrating my daughter’s finishing her second year at OSU with some new mini-adventures. Fortunately, I always love being home, too. Travel creates great perspective on homelife. I love both.
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A Thousand Miles
I intended to write yesterday, but the place where I stopped didn’t have Internet. Sorry! I left Fallbrook just before daybreak on Monday.
I saw beautiful clouds at dawn.
I also saw a lot of car butts.
Ah, the roads to Los Angeles. I’m a seasoned car traveler now. I have my backpack next to me, one audiobook loaded with a couple of spares and some music CDs within easy reach, as are snacks, a water bottle, tissues, and my camera with the viewfinder turned out. I try to snap photos without taking my eyes off the road. Some photos turn out not so good.
Some turn out okay.
Stopping only twice for gas, I was on my eleventh hour driving when I encountered rain with low visibility and decided that enough was enough. I passed by many spots advertising places to stay; some I would have turned in for but was blocked by one of the ever-present trucks kicking up rain spray and edging precariously close to the middle line on the twisty, narrow stretch of I-5. I really wanted something with a nice view with a restaurant close by, but I was willing to stop for almost anything by that point. I saw a sign and pulled off and over I-5 through tall pines looming in the rain. Then suddenly I found myself looking at Shasta Lake and the Bridge Bay Lodge! I started to laugh! If I had planned the stop it couldn’t have been better!
They had a room… in fact, it was nearly empty, and a restaurant that wasn’t cheap but did offer vegetarian entrees. The rain set in, but I walked around a little before heading to bed. I made sure that I didn’t leave any food outside the door!
I watched a little television… I don’t have TV at home and haven’t watched it in about 16 years… and was shocked at how absolutely stupid and time-wasting the shows were. And I was switching between the History Channel, A&E, and National Geographic! I was horrified, and turned it off.
I awoke to a clear warm dawn, and what had looked like this the night before:
now looked like this:
And like this:
I was so thrilled. I’m sure the place is a zoo on the weekends, and I had a quiet night only because I had no neighbors, but it was food for the soul.
After having food for the tummy (breakfast is my favorite meal!)
off I went for the last four hundred miles to Corvallis, through absolutely gorgeous scenery. Tomorrow I give my hinder a break and don’t plan to do much driving, but help my daughter move out of her dorm in the evening after her last final and then head for home on Thursday.
I very much enjoy being out on my own. Although I planned the way back with my daughter with reservations for a bed and breakfast and tickets to a Shakespearean play in Ashland, OR the first night, and on a restored ferryboat hotel on the Sacramento river the second night, I like the spontenaity and roll of the dice of just driving unplanned. If I had no animals at home, I’d do what I had asked friends to do the summer after high school graduation (they all had summer jobs!) and drive the USA. I love the freedom. I love the thought that no one knows where I am. I love the fact that I could end up sleeping in the car or in a dive if my luck ran out, or in a wonderful place such as I just found myself at Shasta Lake. As long as I can share it with all of you!
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Idyllwild Photos
This last weekend’s retreat to Idyllwild became extra special with the advent of April snow. I started out from Fallbrook at two o’clock, following my GPS through our granite-studded hills and golden-flowered valleys. As I drove through the Anza plateau in the beautiful afternoon sunshine, I started seeing glimpses of my destination, which the forecasters indicated would be snowy.
Listening to my audiobook, occasionally holding up my camera to take photos through the windows (thank goodness for digital photos! All those random shots I can delete instead of pay to print and then throw out!) I reached the turn-off for Idyllwild and tall pines. I passed red gambrel barns, peaceful horse ranches, and then the first downy flakes started swirling around. I gave out a hoot to myself. Although I was born in New Jersey, my dear mother told my dear father that she never wanted to shovel snow again in her life, and they moved our family of five children West when I was five. I’ve visited snow a handful of times at Palomar when growing up, or with my children. Up until I drove through snow and ice in Ashland a couple of weekends ago on my trip to Oregon, I had little experience with it. Or did my Prius. On approaching town there was snow on the sides of the road, and it was swirling in large flakes.
Traffic wisely crept along the icy road. Then suddenly, I was there.
I’d only been to Idyllwild once with my parents, some forty-some years ago. The only thing I remember was a large totem in the main square. I was startled to see it again as I arrived. It brought back good memories of my parents.
The snow had turned into round pellets, like those Styrafoam balls in Christmas scenes. I sat in my car outside the lodge for a few minutes absorbing the sight.
Oh, and it was cold. My spoiled San Diego self had to make some adjustments. Over the weekend I ended up wearing all the clothes I brought, mostly at the same time in various combinations starting with thermals. I thought I had mittens in my car but I didn’t, and I shouldn’t have had my haircut the day before, or thought to have brought a knit cap. But it was all okay. The lodge was comfortable, our hostesses treated us like royalty, I shared a room with a wonderful woman and we had a wall between us for privacy. The rooms were themed, and mine was, appropriately, The Library, and was decorated in old books and red plaid, which I love. It was perfect.
After checking in and seeing my delightful room, I took my camera out onto the street and walked a circle around to town and back. I had to keep the camera nestled under my jacket to keep it from freezing. I wrapped my blue knit scarf that I bought when Miranda and I were freezing in the Orkney Islands when touring Pictish ruins around my head and neck like a babushka. I’m mature enough to sacrifice looks for warmth. ( At least, most of the time. I guess it depends on who is looking. Hmm, I’m still a girl at heart after all! ) The landscape was beautiful, like a picture postcard sprayed with glitter.
The silence was so profound I could hear the snow fall. There was wildlife looking for food for their young. A mother Gray Squirrel was eating at a squirrel feeder. The bare spots on her tummy show that she is nursing young. I also saw Steller jays, robins, pine siskins, a flicker, crows, quail, goldfinches and acorn woodpeckers. There were bunny tracks in the snow.
That evening we communed by the fire in the lodge after a great meal of vegetarian vegetable soup and fresh bread. I enjoyed my cup of cocoa with peppermint Schnapps, but the caffeine made me sleep only three hours. I wasn’t alone with being tired; several other women had little or no sleep either. Saturday the sun was out and the snow began to melt, causing the streets to turn into running water.W e took a walk in the morning, ate macadamia nut pancakes, performed Tai-Chi, Zumba, aerobics, work at a barre, more walking, yoga and Pilates, then another walk into town for dinner. During dinner, it began to snow again, big, slushy wet snow that we hadn’t expected.
It was dark when we finished eating, and we visited a couple of shops that stayed open for our group, then ventured through the very wet snowfall back to the lodge and warmth. It snowed all night again, to make our last morning one of magical landscapes. It was Sunday morning, the sky was blue with soft clouds, the quiet was profound and the snow sparkled as if someone had tossed around slivers of diamonds.A group of us took a silent walk through the snow and trees, not speaking, but pausing to perform simple yoga breathing and awakening stretches, welcoming the peace and freshness into ourselves and sending our thanks for the moment out to the universe.
This exercise enervated me more than any other during the weekend; I only regret that not all of the women shared it with us. (After little sleep on the first night and a series of vigorous workouts through the day, along with all the energy spent shivering, several slept in.) One of the phenomenas of the morning was the rising sun catchingthe snow as it melted from the trees, highlighting the drops as if it were handfuls of glitter. I took many photos of it, trying to capture the spectacular sight, but none of them do it justice. If you look carefully at the photo, you can kind of see what I’m talking about.
After our wonderful breakfast (pecan maple pancakes!) we headed off down the mountain in glorious weather. I took a last explore through the town, finding a shop that made its own candles, some scented Idyllwild Cabin, and Campfire Smoke, and Citrus Champagne… and they really smelled like their names! I bought some Christmas gifts (beat the crowd! It was snowy outside after all!) and drove out of the snow to home.
I’m posting more photos on my Facebook page if anyone is interested. The Spring Retreat turned out to be a Winter Wonderland, but I’m sure that it won’t throw the Easter Bunny off at all.
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From Willow, CA to Corvallis, OR. and back to Lodi, CA.
I’m at a hotel in Lodi, CA, which is a truck stop south of Sacramento. I’m halfway home, but, I get ahead of myself. Let me tell you about the second part of the trip to Corvallis…only two days ago!
After spending the night at Willow (North of where I am now), we headed up past San Francisco. We could see the city from the freeway. In the surrounding areas were miles of farmland and many immense grain silos.
Then the land became more beautiful, if less productive, as we passed Red Bluff, Redding, and the Mount Shasta area. Only we didn’t get to see Mount Shasta because it was covered with clouds. It was snowing.
I haven’t driven in snow before, but it wasn’t blinding and the twisty mountain two-lane highway loaded with trucks wasn’t icy. The most trouble I had was avoiding being blinded by the spray from the semi’s wheels. We were surrounded by very beautiful pine forests loaded with snow. Then we hit the next mountain range of Ashland in Oregon and it began to snow in earnest. The road was very wet and ice was on the sides. Big fluffy flakes were circling around. We pulled over to a lodge to use the restroom and through the dining room windows the snow swirled as if made for a movie, and juncos were eating at bird feeders on the porch. We would have loved to have stayed to enjoy the sight, but my daughter and I were both afraid of the roads becoming more hazardous. I certainly didn’t have snow tires on the Prius. There were snow plows and whatever the red stuff that they use instead of salt on the roads.We carefully edged back on the highway, and I now drove behind the trucks, keeping my wheels in their tracks figuring their weight and heat would have de-iced as they went. It was a bit tense heading down the hill. Why are there always people who have to speed, even in bad conditions? Once we were off the mountain the snow vanished and we had rain showers, especially once over the Oregon border where it rained almost solidly. After coming off that icy truck-filled narrow mountain path, rain wasn’t even an issue. We made it to Corvallis at about 3:30; a 1,014 mile drive from home.
Corvallis tries hard to be a cute town, and it mostly succeeds. It has historical interest and lies in the beautiful Willamette Valley. Corvallis is on the agenda for those touring wineries, but more to our interest is that it is very attractive for migratory birds. There are preserves and parks all over with wonderful birding hides, walking paths and hiking.
Since school started the next day (today), birding sadly wasn’t in the books for us this visit, even if the rain let up. However we did see magpies as we drove through Sacramento on the way up, which was a first on our lifetime birding lists for both of us. Corvallis is surrounded by farming areas, growing blueberries, grains, corn, and feed. This time of year there are thousands of bright yellow daffodils along the roads and in front of homes. Another welcome splash of color in the usually dark grey sky is from forsythia bushes which are in full gloriously yellow bloom. It rains a lot here. This school year, in fact, it stopped raining only to snow a bit, with occasional glimpses of blue sky as a tease between rain storms. Moss and lichens are very happy here, as are Canada geese. Berry bushes and wild apple and pear trees fill the preserves, but being wet and cold is the price for the fecundity of the landscape.
On the way back today I was anticipating heavier snow and ice storms, but to my delight the weather was clear and sunny the whole way.
The mountains were covered with snow and beautiful. Mount Shasta’s volcanic shape draped in white suggested a more aggressive personality than the rounder surrounding mountains.
What beautiful rivers, pine forests and mountains. A couple of young elk were grazing by the side of the highway, and startled by a semi, ran back into the woods. I have a real love for this kind of scenery, perhaps born from my New Jersey birth, or cultivated from my first vacations with my parents and sister to Yosemite and Oregon, staying in rustic lodges, smelling pine resin and woodsmoke and listening to quiet.
Once I passed Red Bluff and Redding, then the scenery became more humanized and flat. Lots of buildings, old vehicles, signage… the poetry was gone from the view. And here I am in Lodi, CA, which may owe it’s interesting name to Chief Lodi. In fact, I compiled a list of the names of places I passed that were delightful to me: Tangent, Calpooia, Umpqua, Drain, Yoncalla, Edenbower, Riddle, Azalea, Jumpoff Joe Creek, Louse Creek, Merlin, Indian Mary Park, Valley of the Rogue State Park, Talent, Weed, Yreka, Hilt, Siskiyou, Jelly’s Ferry, and Yuba.
Tonight I dined at Rocky’s, which most certainly doesn’t have a veggie burger option, but does give you the ketchup right away with your food, knowing you’ll need it. Apparently I just missed the migration of thousands of starlings which cover the area through the winter, dining on the bugs in the surrounding fields. There are still hundreds left, and if you look closely you’ll see them on the sign in the following photo, taken from my motel window. To the lullaby of the traffic of Hwy 5, I bid you so-long. Tomorrow back to Fallbrook, and lots of walking!
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From Fallbrook, CA to Corvallis, OR
Tonight I’m sitting on a very promisingly soft bed at the Hilton Garden Inn by OSU in Corvallis, OR. This will be the last time I’ll see my daughter for several months, which is a heartache I just can’t get used to, but that’s a mother’s plight. The trip took 9 hours yesterday and 7.5 hours today. My hinder is quite angry with me.
We traveled Hwy 5 the entire way. Because of the late rains, the hills and mountains through Southern California were covered with
a green velvet that accentuated their worn contours.
Up through the Angeles National Forest there were clouds touching the hills, and we could see some snow on the Tehachapi Mountains from Tejon Pass. This was big deal for San Diego residents like us. If only we knew then what we’d be driving through later! Of course the bright yellow Runaway Truck Ramp signs,
made large enough one would suppose for truckers who are desperately tugging at their emergency brakes on icy, twisty mountain slopes to see with one wild glance, give drivers of small cars a wonderful feeling of adventure.
Once over the Grapevine we entered the long stretch of Central California where mostly almonds and wine grapes are grown. There are many other crops as well, such as olives and rice, but these are the most evident.At first we passed some oil wells,with the monster bird-like extractors tipping up and down. Then there were miles of crops. Miles upon miles upon miles of crops. Acre upon acre upon acre of crops. It is an awe-inspiring sight.All the waterways, ponds, rivers, ditches, etc. were filled with water, which was a very good thing for these farmers desperate for water. I couldn’t help but think about how permaculture could help with the fields of nut and fruit trees and vines. The ground under the trees were almost bare dirt; I can’t give it the name soil. Having them clear allows for machinery to get through the rows to spray and harvest.What if the trees were underplanted and not crowded? A harder time of harvesting, and not as many trees per acre. However the lessening cost of water as the soil deepened and the lack of need to purchase and apply pesticides and herbicides must balance it out. We did pass one plantation where there were lots of weeds under the trees, but whether it was organic or just not seen to yet I don’t know. It still didn’t practice permaculture.
We made it past San Francisco, just getting a glimpse of the towers of the city. I attended school at UC Berkeley back in the early 80’s and visited the City several times and have wanted to go back. Especially back to the bakeries in Chinatown where they had these incredible steamed buns filled with a green melon-flavored jelly that was – obviously – memorable. We drove until just before Mount Shasta, which we couldn’t see because of the clouds. Stopping for dinner at Black Bear Diner in Willow, we decided to go across the street to the Travelodge and make it a day. Tired, headachy and eyesore, there was no way at 7 pm that we were going to drive another seven hours that night. And, no reason to.
More on the trip tomorrow, for tomorrow morning will be an early one to begin the trip back.