Hanford 177

The Hanford Site, near Richland, WA, is where they refined uranium into plutonium for atomic bombs.  Its 625 square miles contained several manufacturing plants, housing for 45,000 workers, 8 reactors and numerous supporting structures.  It was deactivated in 1989 after 46 years of operation.  What remained were the byproducts, the most deadly radioactive chemicals and sludge ever created, stored in 177 huge underground tanks, many of which have leaked.  It's estimated that the tanks held 56 million gallons of waste, nearly 3 cups of glow-in-the-dark soup for every man, woman and child in the US. 

To my knowledge, no colored photos have been taken inside the tanks, at least none that have been released to the public.  So, we don’t know what those cauldrons of seething deadly brew look like.  They might look something like this.

 

Hanford 177

Acrylic on Canvas 16" x 20"

Mike Delaney  December, 2012

 

Given the season and the colors, another possible name comes to mind:

'Oops, I Dropped Christmas'

       

The Itch

HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS ITCH RUNS RAMPANT!

 

Nearly a Billion Infected!

The good news is that a cure has been discovered.  Without fail, the infected masses have found that joining a social network brings long lasting relief.

I've avoided the infection somehow, could be I'm immune.  I did join a social network though, because I was curious, "What's all the buzz about?"  What the hell, join up and find out.  So I did.  And, I'm glad I did - my curiosity is satisfied and I'm slightly less out of it than I would otherwise be.

Being uninfected means I have no desire to Tweet.  Nor, as I so subtly implied in my last post, am I the least bit driven to Like.  Being Linkedin is great for transporting convicted criminals but is otherwise unappealing.  Okay, enough badmouthing.  For now.  Linkedin is, at least conceptually, a great tool.  It's for professional networking, rather than social, and networking to find employers and customers and so on makes a lot of sense.  I've been out of the workforce for 20+ years and have no intention of getting back in so have no need to professionally network.

Fed up with being email-pestered by friends, I did finally join Linkedin a few months ago.  Now, I'm even more fed up by Linkedin emails announcing that, "Dan Delines is linkedin with Cherie Pitts."  Whoop do doo!  Although I wish Dan and Cherie all the best, I never met 'em, never even heard of  'em, the announcement of their freshly minted linkage a non-event of the first order.  Yesterday, I got another one of those emails.  The last one.  Today I Linked -out!

I remain on Facebook because it's my online Scrabble vehicle and I do love that game.  Unfortunately, the FB version freezes up every few seconds and irritates me no end, been waiting in vain for several weeks for the FB dipsticks to fix it.  Methinks it's time to find another Scrabble purveyor.  Oh yeah, sometimes when it's a really slow day - we're talking snail, turtle and slug slow here and those days are rare indeed - I scan the FB friend comments and become underwhelmed all over again.  I've been known to show my artwork on FB also.

Having now aired my highly jaundiced personal take on social networks, it's only fair to acknowledge that, having provided all that itch relief, social networks may have some merit.

The Epitome of Stupidity

The epitome of stupidity is the 'Like' feature on Facebook: 713 people like this!  Who gives a rat's ass?  The number of Likers might be of interest if we knew how many people didn't Like it.  Do all of the 7 billion people who didn't say 'Like', dis-Like?  I am the self-appointed spokesman for those 7 billion people, and I say "We're sick and tired of being discriminated against!  We demand equal rights!  We demand a 'Don't Like' option." 

No, no, no.  Cancel that.  We don't like 'Like', and by extension, we don't like 'Dislike' either.  The word 'like' has become one of the most hated words in the English language, thanks to its misuse, overuse and just plain abuse in Valleygirl-speak.  Talk about stupid!

Let's deep-six 'Like' altogether and go with something different: yea/nay, hurrah/boo, cool/yuck, love/hate, yes/no, for/against, +/-, smiley face/frown face.

It'll never happen, though.  You've heard the phrase 'follow the money' yes?  With popular websites, the money comes from advertising and there's tons of it.  Build yourself a website that gets a million hits a day and the ad people will flock to you like locusts, clutching bags of $ in both hands.  But - those ad people won't pay you a single penny if your website allows people to express dissatisfaction for their product or service.

So, we have to live with it.  But that doesn't mean we to have to Like it.

San Diego

San Diego

Yesterday we did the highway 75 loop, starting and ending in San Diego.  We drove through Coronado, which is actually an island, and Imperial Beach, stopping to view neat stuff and to consume our picnic lunch: barbecued salmon, Gouda cheese, fresh apple slices and crackers.

 

Hotel del Coronado

 When it opened in 1888, it was the largest resort hotel in the world.  Currently, it’s one of the largest and oldest all-wood structures in the US.  Lots of celebrities and presidents and sundry mucky-mucks have stayed here - not including Trish and I and Ranger.  The design is Late Victorian/Queen Anne.  You’ve gotta admire those British queens for their architectural achievements.

 

Surfer Dude at Imperial Beach

We stopped here and had our picnic lunch, sitting on the bench beyond Surfer Dude.  The Dude kinda looks like me don’t you think?  Back before my hair reversed course and came out my ears?  Back when I had fabulous abs, the 6-pack belly?  Back before my wrinkles had wrinkles?  Not so much?  C'mon, use your imagination.

 

 

San Diego Bay Walk

This is in the downtown area, great place to stroll and people watch.  The weird looking trees may be California Buckeye but I wouldn’t bet on it.  Anybody out there know what they are?

Balboa Park

Balboa Park

At 1200 acres, it’s one of the largest and best city parks in the world.  It’s called an Urban Cultural Park which is an apt description.  The San Diego Zoo may be the most famous component but there’s also a mind boggling assortment of other goodies: 15 major museums, numerous performing arts venues, and several impressive gardens, each with a different theme.  Depending on your interests, you could easily spend a week or more here.  If you’ve never been, put it on your bucket list. 

 

International expostions were held here in 1915/16 and 1935/36.  Named respecitively the Panama-California Expo and the California Pacific Intl Expo, virtually all of the buildings were built for those 2 events.  The older group is Spanish Renaissance, the newer group Southwest, architechturally speaking.    

.

Yesterday, we visited the botanical building and a few gardens.  Given the pleasant weather, we weren’t inclined to spend time in the museums or other indoor attractions.  Besides, we’re cheapskates; most gardens are free, museums and shows are not.  The pix below include several impressive plants, most of which I’d seen before, few of which I can name.  Most plants have little name tags stuck in the dirt nearby, but I neglected to make note of them.  Shame on me.

 

Lily Pond and Botanical Building

 

Inside Botanical Building, split leaf philodendron or monsterosa plant?

 

I've seen smaller versions of this around LHC.  It's a desert plant, don't know its name.

 

 

I beg your pardon..........

 

 

Willie S said a rose by any other name..........

 

Works for me.

 

This is a petunia.

 

Southwest desert garden, hundreds of fine specimens of cacti and succulents.

 

Sweet Horse Pucky

She: "Oh my God, have you tasted the water?"

Me: "Pretty sweet, huh?"

She: "You kidding? If Ranger found a puddle of this stuff on the floor, he'd roll around in it!"  (I've yet to see a dog that didn't love rolling around in manure, rotting carcasses and the like.)

Sweetwater Regional Park, where we are now sitting in our RV, should have sweet water, yes?  Not!  I can handle it, have drunk worse stuff lots of times and was thankful to get it.  Not so, Trish.  We'll be buying 2-3 gallons of drinking water today.  Okay, I'll admit it: I'd prefer not to drink the stuff either.

This park is near San Diego and we're here because we're spending Thanksgiving with my sons, Tod and Adam, and their family.  They live in Santee.  And, we're going to spend 3 days seeing some of the SDO sights, the ocean front sights in particular.  We drove over from LHC yesterday, will be spending 5 nights here.

Speaking of manure, why is that dog owners must pick up after their dog but horse owners don't?  Across the road from us, in the parking area beside the restrooms, resides a respectable array of horse turds - or apples if you prefer.  Said apples are not in the handicapped parking slot, so neither horse nor owner can use that excuse - not that it would be an acceptable excuse anyway.

Ranger wouldn't take a dump on the pavement, knows it wouldn't be the right thing to do.  Granted, dogs are smarter than horses.  Maybe dog owners are smarter than horse owners, too.  Or, maybe horse owners just don't give a shit.

2 More Laws

Just remembered another couple laws I'd love to see enacted and I'm betting 99% of all Americans would love to see them, also. 

First: Campaigns are limited to the 30-day period immediately preceding the election.

Second: Political ads are totally banned on radio and television.

These should be made into law at all levels of government.  No matter the level of government, we elect people to do a specific job.  Is campaigning one of the tasks listed in their job descriptions?  Darn well shouldn't be.  Are they performing well and in a timely manner the tasks that are part of their job description while they're on the campaign trail?  In some cases, I'm sure they are.  But I fear that in many cases, they most definitely are not.

It may come as a surprise (it was to me when first I became aware of it, some time back) that my 2 proposed laws have been the law of the land in the UK for some time.  This brief article from the Chicago Tribune, dated May 14, 2010, describes the UK process.

Last week, Conservative Party leader David Cameron ousted Gordon Brown as prime minister of the United Kingdom. On Tuesday, Brown resigned his post and Cameron moved to No. 10 Downing St. The campaign lasted one month and virtually nothing was spent by either campaign, compared with U.S. standards.
The national election in the U.K. should be a wake-up call to Americans.
Campaign spending in this country is out of control.
In the 2008 presidential race, the candidates spent a total of $1.7 billion, double what was spent in the 2004 race. In the U.K. election, a spending cap of 20 million pounds, about $33 million, was imposed on each of the major parties. Of course, campaigns there are less expensive partly because of a ban on paid radio and TV advertising or any ads on matters of "political or industrial controversy."

This article was reprinted without permission, which means I'll probably go to jail.  But hey, no sacrifice is too great for my faithful readers!

Elections

My BS-ometer is particularly sensitive to election campaign rhetoric.  The needle wavered in the red zone (Danger!) for several months prior to election day, even banged against the right hand stop (Overload! Abort!) a few times.  It was a great relief to view the campaign in the rear view mirror and see the needle back in it's normal range.

If you're thinking I'm not very politically oriented, you'd be correct.  In spades.  Campaign ads, especially on radio, inspire an instant gag reflex and a desperate lunge for the off switch.  On the other hand, I take my rights of citizenship quite seriously, carefully study my voter's pamphlets and always vote.

Political polarization in voters has ramped up significantly in recent years.  It worries me and I have to admit that I really don't understand why it's happening.  I suspect that it's a reflection of the attitudes and actions of congress itself, which has lost focus and has its priorities totally bass ackwards: 1st - self, 2nd - party, 3rd - constituents, and finally, running a distant 4th - country.

I'm a centrist, fence sitter, independent.  I vote for people based on their track records and capabilities, parties be damned, and I really don't understand how anyone in good conscience could do otherwise.  It's ludicrous to believe that any party, be it republican, democrat, green, libertarian, tea or rastafarian, always has the one best candidate for the job, always has the best agenda.  Party animals, who are you kidding; yourselves maybe?

There are a couple political things I care strongly about:

     1.  There oughta be a law!  A law that states congress gets the same social, health and retirement benefits as everyone else, nothing more, nothing less.  As it now stands, congress members have it made for life the minute they're elected.  They're totally insulated from several issues that are huge to the citizenry.  "Sure, let's cut social security 30% so we can declare war on _______ (insert Mideastern country of choice, preferably one that produces oil)!  The cuts won't affect us anyway."   

     2.  The electoral college is absurd, has been extraneous for several decades, and should be eliminated.  How the devil can we call ourselves a democracy when it's possible for a president to be someone other than the people's choice?

 I'll close with a little prayer.  The prayer is not directed to Allah, JC or Mohammad but rather to those we've allowed to become living gods right here on earth: the members of the US Congress.

Lead us not into polarization,
And deliver us from your evil, selfish actions.
Amen.

Doggerel 4

There being no earth shaking news to inspire a new post, I've reached back into the archives and dusted off one my vintage doggerels.  This one, like the previously published Manure, is about the 'good' old days back on the Minnesota farm.

GOOD STUFF

 

When my siblings and I hear those words, it brings a smile because it has a unique meaning to us.  It definitely doesn’t mean ‘pot’ or high quality goods.

 

Dad just loved those auction sales.

Bought ‘good stuff’ in boxes and pails.

Rusted nuts and bolts and tools,

Old lopsided milking stools,

Ugly lamps, pictures, clothes;

Dented doorknobs and leaky hose.

 

Anything for sale was nifty,

If bought for less than a buck-fifty.

Of junk he never got enough,

Useless?  Worn out?  No!  Good stuff!

Good stuff we could not discard.

Garages full of it; cars in the yard.

 

Farm life wasn’t all that fun.

No time for hobbies except this one.

My packrat dad: gene or obsession?

Inspired perhaps by the Great Depression?

 

The good stuff finally went away.

All sold at auction in just one day.

It lives on still, in box and trunk.

One man’s treasure; another man’s junk.

 

Acorn falls not far from tree.

And yes, that can be said of me.

I’m driven to save at every till,

But my good stuff’s gone to Goodwill!

 

Mike Delaney

9-7-05

All rights reserved.

We got 'em

There's a saying here, "You've either got 'em or you're going to get 'em."  What are they referring to?  A) Wrinkles  B) Cooties  C) Redneck Neighbors  D) Tortilla Chips  E) None of the Above.  The correct answer is E).  Unless you've lived here and have heard the saying it's highly unlikely that you'd guess the right answer, which is - ta, da: subterranean termites.

A couple weeks back, Trish was cleaning up Ranger's dining area (he's well trained but apparently slept through the class on table manners) and said, "Oh, oh!"  'Oh, ohs' aren't good.  I've yet to hear any good news that started with the words 'oh, oh.'  This was no exception.  She discovered that termites had been merrily chomping away at the kitchen counter floor moldings, and in some places, had consumed everything except the paint.  The molding surfaces were lumpy and you could poke your finger right through the paint 'skin' along a 10' stretch.

S-mites are tiny, can gain access via cracks as small as 1/32".  Homes are built on concrete slabs here.  When the concrete slab cracks, as they all inevitably do, the little SOBs sound the trumpets, raise the flags and march right on in.  "Come on guys, let's eat!"  And eat they do.  I'm amazed that anything that tiny can cause so much damage. 

Yesterday, I removed all the damaged molding and vacuumed up the bugs and sawdust.  Then, I measured and cut the new moldings, a royal pain in the ass due to weird angles and bull nose corners.  The pest control guy's coming tomorrow and will apply termiticide to selected areas of the house perimeter and inject it into the kitchen counter wall. 

Here's some of the old molding.  Bottom piece is just a husk with a few slivers of wood. 

 

There's no such thing as a 100% sure fire/never fail approach to keeping these bugs out.  Not in the long term, anyway.  You need to have an annual pest inspection, which is free, thankfully.  That, followed by spot treatment as needed.  

The Game

I'm not the first to notice the similarity between life and poker.  Kenny Rogers' song, The Gambler, may be the most well known analogy.  I liken life to a game of 5-card draw.  You get 5 cards and you can exchange up to 3 for different cards in hopes of improving your hand.

In the game of life I define the 5 cards as intelligence, attractiveness, personality, health and environment.  It's a mixed bag of nature and nurture elements, some a mixture of both.  You can't choose the environment you were born into nor the health you were born with; those are 2 cards you can't exchange.  You can improve your appearance and, although many experts say personality is fully developed by age 7, I contend that it can be changed and improved as you grow and mature.  I also think intelligence can be enhanced, if not improved, with the right stimulus and education.

There's a lot of luck involved.  A scant few are dealt pat hands and fewer still, incredibly lousy ones.  Most of us get a mixed bag of keepers, losers and so-so's - and harbor high hopes of exchanging the marginals and losers for something better.  The cards themselves aren't the only factor, though.  How you play your hand has a good deal to do with the outcome.

The analogy was recently refreshed in my mind by a conversation with an old friend.  Verna's 33-year old son, Justin, was born with multiple health issues, has been struggling with them ever since and will have to continue that struggle throughout his life.  I commented to Dave (my old friend and Verna's husband) that Justin was dealt a lousy hand.  And that reminded me that I was dealt a pretty darn good one.

We who received the good ones should remain cognisant of the fact that it wasn't our doing.  We were lucky.  When we're feasting on turkey in a few weeks, let's be thankful for the good cards.  I'm thinking that family, in the form of genes and environment, deserves most of the credit. 

Errata

Errata is defined as corrigenda.  This is one of those times when you go to double check the meaning of a word only to find that the definition is more obscure than the word itself.  I've seen the term 'errata' several times in books and other written materials but have never seen 'corrigenda' until just now.  Here's an understandable definition of the 2 words: a list of errors in a specific piece of written material.  Both words are plural, the singular forms being erratum and corrigendum. 

Hmm, erratum and corrigendum - kind of catchy, good name for a pair of folks who play classical music duets.  "And now, it gives me great pleasure to present, for their first appearance in Carnegie Hall, the great classical artists, Eric Erratum and Constance Corrigendum!"  The house lights are dimmed, the curtain opens, the stage footlights and overhead floods come up very slowly, finally and fully illuminating the world famous duo.

Okay, I'm back.  Got carried away there.  There was an error in one of my posts, the one titled Grand Staircase.  In that post I said that there was no visitor center, which is incorrect: in fact, there are 4 visitor centers.  We had yet to come across one of the centers when I did the post, since there isn't one on the northern edge of the monument.

In another post, Bryce, I said that I didn't know how Paria View got its name.  I was curious, so did a little research, found that paria is a Paiute word meaning either 'water with elk' or 'water with mud'.  The next time I visit my favorite Paiute restaurant, I'll not be ordering the Paria Daily Special.  Too iffy.  I really like elk; mud pies not so much.

Now everything is clear, right?  It makes perfect sense.  I mean really, no one could possibly come up with a more appropriate name than watery elk/mud for a scenic overlook at Bryce NP.  Oh yeah.

 

National Park Service

The National Park Service is a bright spot in a coliseum of dim bulbs, an example of government at its best.  Although proud of my country, I've become less and less a fan of big brother over the years.  My participation in the Vietnam debacle didn't inspire warm fuzzy feelings towards the DC gang, for starters.  Since then, congress has gotten progressively more worthless, accomplishing squat, focusing on keeping their places at the trough, and when their mouths aren't stuffed full of pork, parroting the party line like platoons of brain dead zombies.  Were it within my power, I'd shit can the lot of them.

But, I'm quite delighted with the NPS.  Having visited over 100 NPS locations (there are about 400) gotta say that they get it right a lot more often than not.  With the exception of the occasional Nazi campground host, NPS employees are dedicated, knowledgeable and helpful - despite, I suspect, marginal monetary compensation.  NPS sites are popular with foreigners, also, especially Japanese and Germans.  At some NPS campgrounds foreigners outnumber natives, or at least it seems that way.*  I'm pleased that so many foreigners still find the USA worth touring but saddened that more of my countrymen apparently don't.

 

Brochures from some of the NPS sites I've visited.

I have 2 copies of some brochures and thought I'd removed all the duplicates before I took the picture but I see I missed a couple.  Want to play Where's Waldo?

 

There are 29 different NPS designations, about 20 more than needed.  Take rivers for example.  There are 7 designations for rivers: National River, National Recreational River, National River and Recreation Area, National Scenic River/Riverway, Scenic and Recreational River, Wild River, Wild and Scenic River. 

Then there's the historical battlefield designations.  There are National Battlefields, National Battlefield Sites and National Battlefield Parks - plus National Military Parks.  Also, some  historic battlefields are called National Monuments and a few more are named National Historical Sites.  It appears that all of these places are managed the same, regardless of designation.  According to Wikipedia, the various designations have little meaning in themselves and are simply a reflection of the whims of congress on any given day, nothing more, nothing less.  Let's hear it for congress and inconsistency!

*Japanese come in herds (tour groups); Germans come in Cruise America rental RVs.  I wasn't aware of the German/CA connection until Trish pointed it out a couple years ago.  Seems like 90% of the CA rigs are filled with Germans.  It's become a private joke with Trish and I.  We meet a CA rig on the road and one of us invariably says, "Germans."

Washout

On July 13th, LHC experienced a monsoon downpour that resulted in flash flooding and washed-out roads.  The event is being called a 50-year flood; 2.6" of rain fell in 4 hours.  There was one death: 3 men were in a vehicle that was washed away, 2 escaped, 1 did not.  If you're interested, there are several (very amateur) youtube videos of the flooding, google: lake havasu city flood july 2012.

Closer to home - at home, in fact - there's some flood-related damage.  Water pouring over the retaining wall behind the house created a sinkhole about 12' by 3' where the ground surface dropped 6".  No big deal that, just shovel in gravel from the bank above, and dig a trench to coax the next big runoff to head on down the hill rather than over the retaining wall.

A bigger deal is the driveway.  The flooding washed out lots of gravel along the outside edge, and undercut the concrete driveway itself up to 2' in some areas.  Repairing that is a job I'm not gonna mess with, have 3 concrete contractors working up bids on it; first bid is $750.

BTW, July 13th was a Friday.  Maybe it's an unlucky day and number after all.  Paraskevidekatriaphobics is the scientific name for folks who fear Friday the 13th.  It's a great word; practice pronouncing it so you can impress your friends and neighbors.  Since I don't suffer from this phobia and will never be able to use it on a scrabble board, I'm going to forget it as soon as I post this.  There's already too much useless trash in my cranial archives and my trash retriever isn't what it used to be.

Shrunk

Was there something in the water that caused the shrinkage?

 

This picture is left over from our summer travels, too cute to be left out of the blog.

It was taken at Union Creek Resort, near Crater Lake.

Recap

We left LHC on 6-28 and returned on 9-5.  Our summer jaunt was by far the shortest, in both days and miles, of our last 3 summers of travel.  It goes without saying that it was also by far the cheapest.  "It goes without saying:" that's gotta be the dumbest phrase ever.  We say 'it goes without saying' but we darn well go ahead and say it anyway, don't we?

1.  Total miles we towed the EDGE: 3755

2.  Total miles we drove the pickup: 5257

3.  Number of nights on the road: 69

4.  Best campground: Capitol Reef N P.  Gorgeous!

5.  Worst campground: Bruneau Dunes S P, ID.  The place was so butt-ugly and bleak I didn't write a post about it or take any pix, thereby saving y'all from severe bouts of depression and anxiety.  By all means, give it a miss.  My recent post, Last Stop, described an even less desirable place but we pretty much knew that up front - and anyway, it was an RV park, not a campground.

6.  Casualties: 1 RV tire, 2 RV batteries, 1 cordless driver battery charger, 1 microwave, 1 electric toothbrush, 1 shower hose, 3 yellowjackets, 1 mink, an estimated 13,000 flies, mosquitoes, grasshoppers, ants and assorted buggy relatives.

7.  Nastiest stretch of mountain road that I'll never, ever travel again: Highway 1 between Fort Bragg, CA and Leggett, CA; 21 miles of ups and downs and hairpin turns and switchbacks and no shoulders, made all the more pleasant by several haul-ass, road hog logging trucks. 

Last Stop

DATELINE: HENDERSON, NV

THE SCENE: DESERT SANDS RV PARK; WHERE RVs GO TO DIE

Trish said, regarding the dumpiest places we've ever overnighted, that this place is second only to Slab City.  That's not a compliment.  Of the 245 spaces in this park, 2/3 are filled with long term residents and unoccupied RVs that are just stored here.  The vast majority are over 25 years old, haven't been on the road in years, and most likely, will never be again.  Lot's of flat tires, ripped apart engines, jury rigged up one side and down the other.  One rig has a humongous residential A/C unit installed on top and I'm wondering how long it will be before that thing crashes the roof and wipes out the occupants.

So, why are we here?  Two reasons.  First, the drive from Bryce to LHC was longer than we wanted to do in one day.  Second, we wanted to hit Costco and Total Wine, stock up on bacon, beans and biscuits and get something with which to wash them down.  Ever been in a Total Wine store?  Their inventory will blow you away: virtually every kind of beer, wine and booze known to man.  And woman. 

On our drive here yesterday, we came through Zion N P but didn't stop - except to wait for our turn to go through the long tunnel.  At the park entry gate, the guy said he had to measure our trailer.  "If it's 94" or wider, you have to get a tunnel permit ($15) and stop at the entry to the 2nd tunnel until they stop the 2-way traffic flow.  Then, you'll be told to proceed through the one-way tunnel."  He measured, yup - 94", pay me, have a nice day.  So, we got to head up a parade through the tunnel - and an impressive tunnel it is.  Built in the 20s, it's a long, narrow bugger, a mile+ long I'm guessing.

It's 6:30 AM.  Within the hour, we'll hook up and hit the road for home.  There's no place like home.

Bryce Canyon N P

 

"That's nearly got it; just a little more to your right."

Taken at Paria View, don't know what Paria is - or was.

Don't know the people in the picture, either.

Don't know if the lady in red survived the photo op.

 

Also from Paria View.

The harder white cap rock is plainly visible here.  When the cap rock is all eroded the softer pink rock below it erodes rapidly. 

 

There are hikers on the trail that cuts through the middle of the picture.

The girl in the yellow shorts is a hottie, yes?

We planned a brief stop here to take a gander at the hoodoos, then move on to a Forest Service campground down the road a piece.  Instead, we decided to stay a couple nights seeing as how there was plenty of room in the campground and you can't take a trailer to some of the best viewpoints.

 

Above and below are from Bryce Point.

Bryce was a rancher in these parts in the late 1800s.

 

 

I was here in the mid 80s while on a whirlwind backpacking tour that included Bryce, Zion, Arches, Grand Canyon north rim, et al, only stopped briefly at Bryce.  Trish has been here a couple times and hiked down into the canyon a time or two.

 

Chess anyone?

Taken on Queen's Garden Trail, which descends a mile down into the canyon.

 

Looking down Queen's Garden Trail from Sunrise Point.

You can just see Trish's head in lower left.

 

This is the end of Queen's Garden Trail.

The taller hoodoo on the right resembles a statue of Queen Victoria.  Sorta.

I think the smaller one on Queenie's right resembles a flying fish.

Another viewer said it looked like an airplane; I commented that he must be drinking stronger stuff than Trish and I.  He laughed.

 

Our campground is at 8100' altitude so it's chilly at night, 46 degrees at 6:30 AM.  By contrast, we'll be back in LHC in a couple days and running the A/C cuz it'll be 85-90 in the early AM; it'll be cooling down nicely there soon, however.

 

 

This shot and next 2 are returning up Queen's Garden Trail. 

 

 Taking a break, nearly back to trail head.

Escalante Grand Staircase

Heading south from Capitol Reef NP on National Scenic Byway route 12 takes you through Escalante Grand Staircase National Monument.  The scenery is awesome, red rock and sandstone vistas from high vantage points where you can see forever.  The Monument has no visitor center; it's a drive through with several campgrounds along the way.  Trying to capture the vast panorama with a camera is an exercise in futility.  Do the drive.

A half mile section of the route, the Devil's Backbone, is extremely narrow and twisty and has no guardrails or shoulders.  You run off the road and you're toast, sheer drops of 2-3000' on both sides.  The speed limit in that section is 20 MPH and I had no problem whatsoever staying at that speed or even less.  It's a top contender for the White Knuckle-Max Pucker Factor Scary Mountain Road Trophy.

 

Above and below: petrified wood.  Beautiful stuff.

 

Looking down at the park and reservoir from the petrified wood trail.

Now, we're camped at Escalante Petrified Forest SP, near the town of Escalante, UT for 3 nights.  We did the petrified forest hike yesterday, and the the town (population 500) last night.  Doing the town consisted of listening to live music provided by none other than our campground host, and sharing a burger and fries at the Cowboy Blues Bar & Restaurant - a very enjoyable evening.

The altitude here is 6000', temps are comfortable, highs around 80, lows of 60.

Capitol Reef N P

Located at 5530’ elevation in old fruit orchards, Fruita Campground is one of the loveliest spots imaginable.  It’s surrounded by sheer red rock cliffs on 3 sides, sage brush covered hills on the 4^th.  Deer wander through camp and graze on fallen fruit.  As anticipated, there was no cell phone service or wifi; how did we survive without it for 3 nights?

The view from our patio

 

The Castle

 

The Goosenecks, looking straight down at the Fremont River, the

modest little stream that carved a masterpiece.

 The area was farmed from 1880 through 1962.  The orchards still produce apples, pears, peaches and cherries.  Trish sliced and cooked up some of the apples with cinnamon and brown sugar, a delicious side dish to accompany the pork chops I cooked over a wood fire a couple nights back.

 

Magnificent colors abound

 

Abstract art by Mother, mineral water on sandstone.
 

 

Hickman Bridge spans 133’.
It's a little difficult to see; double tap to enlarge.

 The Reef, aka Waterpocket Fold, was formed 65 million years ago, give or take a few days.  Since then, erosion has exposed multicolored rock layers and carved numerous sundry formations.  The Fold is a 90-mile long ridge with smaller, parallel ridges here and there, and valleys in between.  The scope is so vast that you have to be in a plane high above the area to grasp the layout.  Trish said while we were on the Scenic Drive that it was like driving on the floor of the Grand Canyon, which is a good description although the GC is a much deeper cut.

 

Fern’s Nipple in center distance

Those Portland women would have surely renamed it had they been around.  
Let's see: how about Pimple Point?  Beanie Butte?  Conical Crest?

Bagging Idaho

Our plans to spend 10 days in Idaho were dashed by wild fires.  The 2 fires in south central Idaho were generating too much smoke for us to handle.  So we bagged it, both the Owyhee scenic drive and Ketchum.  Northern CA also has wild fires so that wasn't a viable option.  Northern Nevada doesn't have much going for it unless you're big on bleak, barren and boring.

That leaves Utah and that's where we are, Willard Bay SP near Ogden.  Willard Bay is part of the Great Salt Lake; I took a couple pix but opted not to publish them cuz the lake just isn't much to look at.  Today, we'll continue south and a bit east, destination Capitol Reef NP.  It's one of the few southwest national parks I've not visited so I have great expectations.  Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument is just south of Capitol Reef so we'll see some of that when we continue south.

These two federal preserves are all about mountains and rocks.  There are lots of spires, arches, wild and crazy formations of all kinds.  I doubt we'll have commo at Capitol Reef so will be suffering severe email, scrabble and blogging withdrawal symptoms by the end of our 4-5 day stay.  In fact, my left eye is already starting to twitch.

Flies

Flies piss me off.  Always have.  Had beaucoup flies on the farm in MN.  That was a given, what with pigs, sheep, cows, chickens - and in the early days - horses, producing copious quantities of fly habitat.  I used to wipe 'em out by the 1000s back then: sprayer, swatter, fly ribbon, anything that worked.  The spray was DDT; now I'm bald, have CRS and can't throw lawn darts worth a darn.

We carry 2 flyswatters in the RV and one of  'em is right beside me as I type this, sitting outside in the shade.  Many flies will die here in the next 36 hours.  Sure, they can reproduce much faster than I can kill 'em but whacking them into oblivion gives me a feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment nonetheless - especially if they're on my person or inside the RV.

Hat Rock Campground near Hermiston, OR is the scene of the fly slaughter.  Somewhere nearby there's livestock or rotting fruit or people with poor sanitation habits.  Could be all the above, rotten fruity people who never bathe and have goats.  Flies are attracted to stinky stuff.  I showered last night so don't know why they're landing on me; my deodorant?  They're not bugging Trish that much although she's the perennial Daily Special on the mosquito menu.

We'll spend 2 nights here, play golf and tour the area.  Hat Rock was named by Clark, of Lewis and Clark.  They did a lot of naming.  Closer to Portland, there's a large columnar rock, which L&C dubbed Cock Rock because it resembles a stiff dick.  Years later, a group of Portland women - influential, puritanistic, busy bodies with not enough to do - were successful in changing the name to Rooster Rock. 

 

Hat Rock

To this day, Portlanders (darn few) thank those ladies for saving the city from the sin and evil and corruption that would inevitably result from having such a lewd reminder of human anatomy in the vicinity.  Had I been around at the time, I would have led a protest movement, kicked it off by draping sail cloth over the rock, in the form of a condom.  You know, if that rock were in Africa, people would worship it as a great symbol of fertility.  Those ladies remind me of John Ashcroft, the attorney general that covered the Spirit of Justice statute.  What a screaming asshole!

Woodland, WA

Woodland, WA is across the Columbia River from Columbia City, OR where I lived for 10 years.  We can see my home (It's for sale; make me an offer I can't refuse) from our campsite, which is in an upscale private RV park.  I often wondered what this park was like when I lived in CC and viewed it from across the river.  It always seemed to be pretty full up - and justifiably so: great setting, clean, well maintained, and convenient to I-5.

Shuffleboard, horseshoes, lots of grass.

We stopped here primarily because we (the royal we) had to do laundry.  This park has its own laundry facilities, as do many of the larger private parks.  This is the type of place that attracts the big rigs, mostly driven by full timers who spend their time inside and don't mind having neighbors 10' away on both sides.  We do mind: we like privacy and campfires, rarely stay at places like this.   Get a load of the rig below, custom all the way, including a garage to haul their classic car.  When the car's outside, the garage can be used as patio, office, party room, etc.

Columbia City in background.

Many salmon are caught angling from shore.  I never tried it but spent many -mostly fruitless- hours fishing from my boat. 

Zoomed in at 10X, my house is upper right, some 3 miles away.

Inbound car carrier ship.  Being able to view ships and other river traffic was one of the main reasons I built a home here.  The smoke across the river is coming from the Dyno Nobel fertilizer plant; Patty, my ex, worked there for a few years. 

Schafer SP

Schafer State Park is near Elma, WA which isn't near much of anything.  To find it on the map, start in Olympia, run your finger northwest until you get to Shelton, then west about 20 miles and there you are.  The park is on the Satsop River.  The Satsop isn't impressive but yields many a trout, steelhead and salmon.

We're been here 3 days visiting friends and playing in the 21st annual LLCCILDT*.  We were unable to attend the event last year cuz we were touring the east coast.  Trish and I have our names engraved on the championship trophy, being prior gold medalists.  This year we intended to reestablish our reputation as Olympic-class athletes and odds-on gold medal contenders.  Intended is the operative word.  Read on.

About 50 people were in attendance.  Half of them played; all cheered and jeered, stuffed their faces (potluck), and drank beer or whatever.  Trish and her partner lost their first match, but it was a squeaker: 21/20.  My partner and I also lost our first match but it was a rout, not a squeaker at 21/6.  I was terrible, my partner not much better.  My partner and I then went on to 'compete' for the booby prize and won it handily by loosing again.  I've never played so poorly, didn't get a single ringer.  Major embarrassment, my reputation as a top notch spearchucker all shot to hell.  

This is our northernmost point of travel for the summer.  Today, we start a southeasterly course that will include stops in southern WA, northeastern OR and southern ID.
 
*Lost Lake Country Club Invitational Lawn Dart Tournament. 

She's Baaaack!

"Of all the RV parks, in all the towns, in all the world, she drives into ours."*

In my post of July 29th, I mentioned the woman with lots of dogs that was parked beside us at the Roseburg, OR fairgrounds.  Yesterday at 3:15 pm she pulled into our 7-space county rv park in Scappoose, OR and parked right beside us.  Again.  We are so thrilled, you just can't imagine!

Her pickup has a 16-dog capacity; how many she actually has we don't know.  Lots.  In Roseburg, she had at least 6, all of which appeared to be black labs.  Trish talked to her briefly, found out she trains and/or buys and sells the dogs.  She keeps the dogs fairly quiet although they do go off on a barking binge occasionally.  We're leaving here today so we'll survive regardless. 

Cruddy picture, too far away and too dark, but you get the idea.  There are 8 cages on each side with a storage area top center.

I gotta say that I'm not impressed with the situation: several large dogs living cooped up in metal boxes too small for them to even stand up.  How long does she haul them around like that?  A brief period, hopefully.  What a great life.  If I were one of those dogs, I'd be seeking an opportunity to bite her in the butt.  BIG bite!  Once started, I'm sure I'd find it difficult to stop - as would my fellow canine prisoners.

Are we traveling in some kind of time warp or parallel universe?  This is the 2nd deja vu all over again event of this trip involving RVs that reappear in campgrounds 100s of miles away from the initial sighting.  The Geese came first and it was a treat to see the rig 4 different times; twice for the dog lady is twice too many.

*In case the (mis)quote isn't familiar, it's Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca.  Great old classic movie.

Score!

We're in a small community campground near Scappoose, OR, same place we stayed 2 summers back.  It's got full hookups for a good price and we reserved well in advance so we have the premier site, with no other rigs beyond us on one side.  You step out the front door and you've got privacy, trees and grass.

Vintage 1928 with wooden prop and bike wheels.

This is a 1957 Chevy.  Trish knows the model years of many of the 50s era classics.

I do well to pick the correct decade.

I thought that this cute little thing was either a Crosley or a Henry J.

Trish says it's a Nash Metropolitan.  She's right; I'm wrong.

An event we were unaware of until arriving took place at the regional airport adjacent to us over the weekend: an antique airplane fly-in/classic car show/model railroad show with a few military and fire/police rigs thrown in for good measure.  It wasn't a humongously large collection of goodies but there was some really neat stuff, as the pictures indicate.

This is a lightweight but well-armed military rig.  It would be great for some urban applications and maybe chasing terrorists in the dessert.  Wouldn't want to get into a pissing match with a tank, though.  It's wide open and unarmored.

This had no sign that provided the age.  Sleek little puppy.

This pair isn't very old, built in the 80s and 90s.  They have identical paint jobs, are likely one of the pairs we saw flying in formation, lead and wing man.

FBs

A few posts back I said I'd find out why Farewell Bend Campground was thusly named.  I researched the matter, and here's what I found: nothing.

I did stumble on something interesting, though.  Bend, OR used to be called Farewell Bend, named after a nearby ranch with the same handle.  Bend is on the Deschutes River, while Farewell Bend Campground is on the Rogue and about 100 miles away.  And, guess what: there's a city park in Bend called Farewell Bend Park. 

Let's not forget Farewell Bend State Park near Baker, OR.  It's quite a ways north and east of the other FBs, on the OR/ID border, and the Snake River.

There you have it: 1 ranch, 1 town, 1 campground and 2 parks - FBs all, on 3 separate rivers many miles apart and all in the same state.  Oregon apparently has exclusive rights to the name, didn't find any FBs in other states in my brief google search.

Now you know.  Go forth and impress your family and friends with your new found knowledge.  They'll probably think you're a half bubble off center for expounding on FBs, but odds are, they've been thinking that for some time anyway.

Today, we leave McMinnville and head to Scappoose for a few days. 

Buttpains 5 & 6

Why report these ho-hum events?  Who cares?  Nobody, I reckon.  It's like this: I feel like writing but the place (McMinnville, OR) was covered in prior posts.  Besides, I don't want readers to think our summer travels are all rainbows and unicorns. 

Number 5
The RV Microwave went belly up.  It's a small one, only 1.0 CF, but plenty big enough for 2 people and a real convenience since our rig doesn't have a conventional oven.  I'm guessing all the bouncing around shortened its life.  And, we've bounced around a fair bit, especially on the Alaska trip a couple years back.  The old one was Brand X (High Pointe), never heard of it.

The microwave lives in an enclosed cabinet, is front-vented (a rare thing in smaller units) and has a frame which is screwed to the machine and the cabinet face.  The frame is what keeps the appliance in place so it doesn't bounce right out of the cabinet and fall on the floor, and it provides a built-in appearance. 

Good luck finding a front vented 1 CF microwave online.  Tried all the usual suspects: Lowes, Home Depot, Nextag, Walmart, Amazon - nada.  Finally bought a 0.9 CF unit for $58 at Home Depot; it's not front vented but the size and appearance are nearly identical to the old one.  To address the venting concern, I cut a hole in the top of the cabinet directly above the vent holes in the top of the appliance.  Hopefully, that will prevent overheating and other issues.  If not, I'll jump off that bridge when I get to it.

Number 6
Most RVs have outdoor showers.  They're rarely used for showering but are handy for mud room applications and dog washing.  Whilst Ranger was 'enjoying' a bath recently, the nozzle head broke off.  Called Camping World: they don't carry replacement hoses, just the entire assembly: knobs, base, valve, the whole enchilada.  In your dreams, CW, you suck as usual.  I'll be going to ACE to get the replacement hose, thank you very much.

On the bright side, given our considerably less ambitious itinerary this summer, dealing with these little challenges hasn't been all that bad.

What the .....?

It’s 8:10 PM and we’re sitting around the campfire.  Trish just spitted up her last marshmallow of the evening, has it poised to place over the coals in just the right spot.  We notice an older pickup approaching on the single lane, one way road.  We see the head of a large dog of indeterminate breed sticking out of the half open, passenger side window and hear music coming from the truck’s radio.
.
The pickup slows down and stops in the middle of the road, right beside our trailer.  I’m thinking great place to park, you idiot, assuming that he came to visit the campers across the road from us.  A 50ish guy emerges, opens the tailgate, grabs something from inside the pickup bed and strides toward us.  Ranger barks and runs over to the man, who responds with a cheerful, “Hi poodle!”
.
He tosses a double handful of wood scraps by our campfire, with this comment: “Kiln dried cypress!  Lots better than those ponderosa pine branches you’re burning.  No smoke.  A friend of mine has a cabinet shop, has all kinds of scrap wood.”  He then returns to his truck and drives away.  Trish and I look at each other and burst out laughing.  We’re both flabbergasted.  We stop laughing after a bit but resume again shortly.  

Kiln Dried Cypress! (lower right)

The guy didn’t stop to bestow wood scraps on any other campers, at least not on our side of the campground, and he's not a resident of this campground.  What inspired this little gift?  Was it just a random act of kindness?  We’ll never know - unless the guy returns tonight for a repeat performance.  Anyway, the visitation of The Kiln Dried Cypress Phantom certainly livened up our evening and provided us with a great little story to pass along.  Trish thinks the guy had been hitting the sauce pretty heavy.  Could be.

PS: 2 days later.  As we were breaking camp this AM, the Phantom drove by again but didn't stop or drop off any more wood.  Maybe this guy has some duties as non-resident camp host or something.