8-27-2017 Walt the Lumberjack

Mary sent this picture of Walt the Lumberjack.  I don't know the year.
Love from Mary and Lindy

8-26-2016 Ocean City, WA

Interesting names of things in Port Angeles:  Hooker Road, Jimmy-completely Creek, Chicken Coop Road and Kitchen-Dick Road.  Kitchen-Dick?  What the…?

Mary and Walt are our friends in Westminster, CA who lived on the Olympic Peninsula long ago.  Walt now strums a harp in Lumberjack Heaven but he used to tell us stories about his days in lumbering and a fellow he knew, John Huelsdonk. 

B2 encounters a lumber truck

The Hoh Valley and Rain Forest is central to the peninsula and receives about 12 feet of rain/year.  In the late 1800s, folks could file a claim for land and if they could make a go of it for 5 years, the land would be theirs.  Am I correct to assume that few wanted land in a place that gets 12 feet of rain/year, including Congress?  Bernard Wilhelm Johann Huelsdonk, a German immigrant, filed and was granted a claim for 160 acres deep in the Hoh Rain Forest.  He reasoned that if he cleared and drained the land, he could make a living at farming and raising livestock.  But then, Grover Cleveland turned the area into a national reserve and no further development was permitted.  There was probably an endangered mushroom.  Well, folks abandoned their claims because there was no way to expand civilization and infrastructure in the area.  Except for John Huelsdonk who, with his wife, Dora, made a living and raised 4 daughters in this impossibly difficult place. 

If you saw this on your ass when you had to
break for a deer, would you panic?!

He was injured in a logging accident and after that, began packing in equipment for scientific exploration teams and so forth.   He could pack the weight of 2 men and so was paid twice as much and used this income to support his family.  Being the strong man that he was, he once hiked a very long distance with an iron stove and 50 pounds of flour on his back, a total weight of about 150-175 pounds.  Because of this and many other feats of strength, he became known as “The Iron Man of the Hoh.” 

Nothing to see here!

Marked on the maps is “Huelsdonk Homestead” and the (location of) Huelsdonk Bridge which did not survive the elements.  John and Dora (“The Iron Woman,” in my opinion) are buried on the homestead and their graves, it is said, are marked with plaques placed on a boulder.  Devoting ~2 hours to this side trip, driving on  narrow, rustic, logging roads, sometimes two little gravel paths for the tires, we nervously entered the rain forest.  The unforgiving difficulties of this land left us in disbelief that someone actually survived here.  Finally, deep in the dark, wet woods, we were halted by a fence with a wood sign, “Fletcher Ranch Huelsdonk Homestead- private property – dead end – no turn around beyond this point – cameras in use.”  I guess they aren’t kidding.  Maybe it was something I said?  My breath?  OK, we can take a hint.  The author of the book, “The Iron Man of the Hoh,” is Elizabeth Huelsdonk Fletcher who is apparently the current proprietor of the Huelsdonk Homestead.  But alas, we traveled as far as possible and were unable to visit John and Dora Huelsdonk’s graves.   Ms. Elizabeth says, “Go away!”  Sorry, Mary and Walt.  We tried.

Stay out!  Go away!

Jeepster in the Hoh Rain Forest

It was a pleasant drive through the trees, trees, trees yesterday

The view

followed by a lazy day, today.  We spent the morning doing a few loads of laundry and found a very nice place near the beach to have lunch.  Later, back at the rv park, we followed the short path down to the ocean.  The beach is a vast expanse of soft warm sand, miles of shallow breakers, driftwood, grass and mist, beautiful in the late afternoon sun.  We sat hypnotized as time stood still.

Lindy, beer and sand

Beach and horses at Ocean City

There is a shuttle that runs people back and forth between the park and the Quinault Casino/Emily’s Restaurant  a few miles from here on the beach, eliminating the worry of driving after cocktails.  This is the evening’s ticket at Ocean City, WA.  The seafood quivers with fear for the DeLaMares are near!

(The Packers beat the Niners, last night.  Colin Kaepernick sat through the National Anthem.  FYI.)

Rob, beer and sand!  Life is good!

8-24-2016 PORT ANGELES, WA

Rob’s forehead is nearly healed up.  Thanks for asking after him.  Recently, he stands up slower. 

Some of you post comments on the blog using the “anonymous” option.  Don’t forget to sign or initial it or give me some indicator of who you are.  Thanks to those who comment, by the way.  I really enjoy the feedback!

The distance to Port Angeles from Gig Harbor was so brief that we didn’t even hook up the Jeep.  We are now parked for 3 days at the KOA here. 

KOA Port Angeles

I’ll say this:  we hate staying one night at a campground:  Hurry up, park, set up the beast, maybe go for a quick swim, make dinner, clean up the kitchen, shower and so forth and the next morning, put it all back together again and hit the road?  Nope, that’s not for us.  Two nights minimum.  But now, we are getting even more spoiled and staying, often, for 3 nights.  That is really a luxury!  Three days almost make it worth setting up the patio!

The drive here wound through a lot of forest.  Trees, trees, trees.  There are many points of interest in the area but you can’t see them through the damned trees. 

The view

The view

The first day we just bummed around, had lunch at Downriggers and backtracked to Sequim (pronounced, “skwim”) to see what was shakin.’  Nothing.  The sidewalks are rolled up and you can skim through Sequim.  We couldn’t catch the ferry to Victoria because our passports are safe and secure in Pahrump.  A drive up to Hurricane Ridge was a possibility but the road is blocked off for more than an hour due to construction.  We turned around at the ranger station and headed back and at that point, Mamma Deer decided to cross the road.  She leapt out in front of the Jeep and Rob hit the brakes.  As I watched her make it safely to the ditch on my side, I didn’t notice Bambi, about a yearling, who was just behind her.  Rob did and his quick reflexes brought the Jeep to a screeching, fish-tailing halt.  Fortunately, we were not being followed by a logging truck on a speedy mission or we’d have been, how you say, permanently logged off.  Proceeding forward, rattled, we spotted antlered Dad Deer still standing on the side.  Later, Rob’s only observation was how disappointed he was with the performance of the Jeep’s anti-skid system.  Seriously?  I myself was delighted that Prancer’s fur and pancreas weren’t stuck to the front bumper and Blitzen’s hooves were not lodged in the radiator.

View of the ocean

On Wednesday, we packed up and decided to go for a drive out to Neah Bay and Cape Flattery, the north westernmost point of the Olympic Peninsula.  The road is narrow and so convoluted it looks like a brain on the map.  There are rv parks out this way but how the rigs manage this road is a mystery.  We were buried in trees,

View of the Strait of Juan de Fuca

trees, trees for much of the 100 mile trip.  There is an occasional break and the Straight of Juan de Fuca and Neah Bay peek through but mostly, it’s trees, trees, trees. 

View of Neah Bay

The road goes west and comes to an end where there is a ½ mile long trail down to the ocean.  The hikers said, “A half hour down, an hour and a half back up.”  No thanks.  I’ve seen the ocean.

A different route led back to Port Angeles, Hwy 101, past Lake Crescent and tucked into a cove there, the Lake Crescent Lodge.  What a find!  The many little coves are shallow and the water is sparkling, turquoise green.  The inside of the lodge itself is constructed of dark polished wood, tall beamed ceilings, thick pillars, a big fireplace surrounded by sofas and overstuffed chairs and a beautiful bar.  Dinner is served in the big, bright dining room.  Facing the water is a sunny deck completely enclosed all the way up with glass panels and windows that open to the beach where swimmers and kayakers frolic.  One can take a room at the lodge or one of the cabins with rocking chairs on the decks.  Not surprisingly, at this sunny, warm time of year, there is no vacancy at this beautiful lodge.  There was, however, an ice cold hefe with our names on it.  Then it was time to head home, sip a cold toonie and tumble into bed.  

c

Cabin at Lake Crescent Lodge

Lindy at Lake Crescent Loge

Us on Lake Crescent

In the Lodge

Lake Crescent Lodge patio

8-21-2016 GIG HARBOR, WA PART II

The U.S. Explorer Expedition was launched in 1838 and Lt. Charles Wilkes, Captain and excellent map maker, was appointed to chart the Pacific Ocean and Antarctica.  So while he was parked up north in what is now British Columbia, three of his crew paddled away heading south in the “captain’s gig,” a 23’ long rowboat.  They moored up in what is now known as Gig Harbor and  liked it so much that they never went back.  No word if they ever returned the captain’s boat. 

The harbor has been called home by native Americans for about 9,500 years.  The beaches and coves were named for the sea life that could be captured at those locations, for example, one cove was given an Indian name meaning, “salmon,” another meaning, “large clams.”  But Gig Harbor was, of course, “discovered” in 1840 by white guys belonging to the Wilkes Expedition.  For decades before this, explorers sailed right by the cove because the entryway was hidden behind a sandy spit that jutted out.  Now, the shores are occupied by beautiful homes owned by people who have money by the huge boatloads (which are moored at the piers in the marina).

Rob was feeling  a little woozy today, probably because he walked into the corner of one of the rv slides a couple of days ago and split his forehead wide open.  We’ve been attending his wound and it’s healing but today was down time for Rob.  I proceeded alone on the two-hour-long harbor cruise which sailed out to the Tacoma Narrows and a bit beyond.  The water is blue and very cold, ranging in the 40s + 5F and somewhat deep, more than 200 feet under the Tacoma Narrows bridge.  At one place where we sailed about 25 feet from shore, the water was 53 feet deep.  More like a fjord than a bay!  The water is also turbulent with current and tides so the harbor seals are well-fed with the fish that are literally swept into their mouths!  The four pairs of nesting bald eagles are also living in a hunter’s paradise.  Two of these eagles were showing off at the peaks of the pines.

We studied the collapse of the Tacoma Narrows bridge in college when professors used it as an example of “divergent series” in wave theory.  Like, wave your ass good bye?  Folks used to like to drive on “Gallopin’ Gertie,” as if it were a carnival ride, whooping it up as it swayed back and forth in the wind.  (Watch the YouTube videos!)  

Sturdy Gertie (green) and Third-y Gertie (gray)

Finally, one day in a 50 knot wind, it broke up and fell where it still lies and the Giant Pacific Octopi took up residence.  Since then, the two newer bridges were constructed in more stable fashion with pilings 100 feet below the bottom of the sea.  The divers were observed by the curious, intelligent octopi.  One diver told of an incident when he was tapped on the shoulder.  He turned around to a giant octopus handing back his crowbar.  The green bridge was the first to be constructed and is named, “Sturdy Gertie.”  The gray one is, “Third-y Gertie,” as in third and final.

Gerties across the Tacoma Narrows

On the return trip, we sailed by a small community called Salmon Beach.  The houses are out in the water on stilts.  It is a steep walk up to the flat where their cars are parked not to mention a steep walk down, either way on a switchback trail or 237 steps carrying an armload of groceries or, say, a new refrigerator. 

Salmon Beach and the staircase (237 steps - both ways)

I said to the captain, “These houses must cost a fortune!”  He said, “Not really.  The owners are raped in insurance premiums to cover everything from tsunamis to mud slides.”  Apparently, the homes are cheaper than the insurance policies.  Flat-lander that I am, all I ask is, “Where’s Albertsons from here?”  And, “Who cleans it?”

The Indians called Mt. Rainier, “Tacoma (The Mountain That Was God)”.  A big debate developed among white guys as to what the mountain should be named.  The State Supreme Court stepped in and dubbed it after Peter Rainier, as proposed by his buddy George Vancouver. 

Mount Rainier from Tacoma Narrows

Rather bizarre.  Rainier served as an officer in the Revolutionary War on Britain’s side, was a decorated British officer, eventually served in Parliament and retired in England.  There is a movement afloat to restore the original name, “Tacoma.”  Okey dokey then!  It’ll give Obama something to do in the event of a world crisis, hey?  He can come up here and rename a mountain!  Something he knows how to do!

Sunset dinner at Anthony's on the harbor

As luck would have it, there is an Anthony’s in Gig Harbor!  As the sun set over the marina, Rob and I sipped a pomegranate-tequila cocktail and dined on prawns and lobster tail!  I am wind-blown and in information-overload while the patient is healing.  A good night’s sleep in the woods, tonight, and tomorrow, we will move along a short way up the peninsula to Port Angeles.

Good night!

8-20-2016 GIG HARBOR, WA PART 1

A few follow-up notes:

As Marianne Moody Jennings said, “The truth always percolates to the top.”  Now, I just learned that my pulled ham sandwiches of last week were almost inedible, way too salty.  Maybe as you simmer the ham, the juice evaporates and leaves the salt behind?  I’m a salt-o-holic so I’m no judge.  In that story of Sodomy and Cremora, I’m the one who turned into a pillar of salt.  A salt lick sandwich?  Works for me!  Next time, I’ll rinse the ham before serving, maybe with a beer.  Your culinary tip for the day.

Two more things:

First, per the cheesemeister Joyce, use plastic or wax wrap to handle cheese.  Touching it with bare hands causes growth of those green fuzzies.  Second,  I forgot to tell you about nettles-gouda cheese made at Pleasant Valley Dairy.  Yup.  They add pickers to the cheese!  Turns out pickers are a spice.  Who knew?  Joyce said people who do the Paleo diet like to eat nettles.  OK, I see it!  You can probably lose weight if you eat pickers instead of, say, ham sandwiches, ice cream or, say, pretzels & beer!  So THAT’S the secret!  My doctor says I’m not getting enough pickers!

B2 at Gig Harbor RV Resort

On Friday, we battened down the hatches and headed just a short 2 hours down the road to Gig Harbor.  Well, it was predicted to be a short drive but the traffic through Seattle pretty much sucks and driving a 54-foot long train isn’t so easy, changing lanes, dodging boy-racers, rude lane-hoppers and clueless mergers who may also be texting.  We made it, though, with sunshine to spare and had the camp set up in minutes in pretty Gig Harbor RV Resort tucked under the tall pines.

Today’s adventure takes place a little further north in Bremerton.  William Bremer, an immigrant from Germany, sold 190 acres of land to the US government for 50 bucks an acre and it was made into a shipyard.  The naval shipyards are still a mainstay here in Bremerton and several ships are on reserve here including 2 air craft carriers. 

Bremerton Naval Shipyard

The SS Independence is scheduled to be scrapped.  The SS Kittyhawk is “mothballed,” meaning standby status in case it is needed in service again.   The USS Taylor Joy (DD-951) is permanently moored here and is a museum, open to the public.  This ship is a destroyer class, built in 1957-58.  Admiral Charles Taylor Joy is a hero and highly decorated WWII and Korean War hero, honored with this ship christened in his name.

Destroyers were small, light weight and easily maneuverable and were a favorite hot rod of many a Navy seaman for that reason.  However, because the hull was not as thick as other ships and more easily penetrated by incoming, they were nicknamed “tin cans.”  The Taylor Joy served in many battles in the Viet Nam War, defending our troops from the sea, and could fire as many as 600 70-lb. rounds at a time.  The ship’s claim to fame is the victory in the “Tonkin Incident” and also is known to have fired the last round (from a warship) of the Viet Nam War.

USS Taylor Joy (DD-951)

Wearing a hat comes in handy!

In the engine room

Heading up to the bridge

We had not toured a destroyer before.  Everything seems done in ¾ scale compared to an aircraft carrier and the layout and organization was obviously done with great care and creativity to pack that many tons of shit into a one-pound bag!  I don’t know if a smaller stature was required of destroyer seamen, nicknamed “tin can sailors,” but I envision many an injury in tight quarters, many a cracked skull on the low bulkheads.  Rob’s head cleared the average ceiling by about two inches.  There is a thoughtful, quiet Viet Nam POW Memorial on the ship, now, and that, along with my imagined view of the hustling heroes who made this machine purr left me with feelings of awe, reverence and gratitude.    

8-18-2016 SNOHOMISH, WA

On our way out of Blaine on 8-16, we intended to make two stops at places we had spotted on previous days traveling back and forth. 

The first place is Pleasant Valley Dairy.   Signs along the road read, “artisan cheeses.”  The proprietor and artist, Joyce, greeted us with a big, friendly smile behind her little counter wearing boots and a big thick plastic apron in which the tiny lady could possibly have drowned. 

She showed us a map of Washington that pinpoints all of the cheese-making dairies in the state, particularly those that participate in competitions for quality of their products.  Next, she laid a menu in front of us and starting at the top, sliced a piece of each of the cheeses for us to taste.  Normally, she said, she has an order sheet for the customer to mark on and take notes but she was out of them so we had to proceed from the memory bank installed in our taste buds.  I have been to wineries and done the wine-tasting procedure before, marking up a sheet, but I don’t think either Rob or I have ever been to a dairy that has “cheese tasting.” 

Her cheese artistry specializes in various goudas, smoky, provence herbs, jalapeno, peppercorn, smoky jalapeno and fines herbes.  In addition, she makes a wonderful mellow cheese called farmstead and one called mutschli, which if you let it sit and age a bit, begins to taste a bit like parmesan and can be shredded and sprinkled on pasta.  When Joyce gave us each a slice of jalapeno gouda, she said that we would at first experience the taste of the gouda and then, “in about 12 seconds you will feel the heat.”  She had the timing down perfectly right.  Well, what could we do?  We loaded up the scales with about ten ½ lb. blocks of cheese and walked away the richer as Joyce headed back to the barn to tend her cows while chatting with her chickens.  What a delightful experience!

Secondly, we were determined to stop in at the enormous barns of the Barleans Fishery.  We have stared at this place many times in passing.  The signs boast fresh local clams, cod and salmon. 

At first, the gigantic domestic refrigerator in this new beast seemed silly to us, but now we realize that the freezer begs to be loaded up with fresh, wild-caught sockeye salmon slabs, smoked salmon steak, chunks of halibut, calamari steaks and a bag of great big shrimp. 

This is not a pretty, tidy butcher shop with fish behind glass.  We stepped in onto a wet concrete floor where employees are dressed in aprons, rubber gloves and boots and stand before great big tubs with water jets flowing into them.  The fish, newly filleted, lay upon trays of ice and a wide variety are also vacuum-sealed and stacked in a wall-sized freezer on one side.  Off to the side is the scale and the till on a small table space that was cleared and dried.  The lady bagged up our treasures in gigantic, thick plastic sacks, we took out a second on the house and hiked back to the beast, happy and weighed down with heavy sacks.

We are now camped in #1 son, Rick, and Trina’s back yard in Snowhomish, WA for a couple days of fun with the DeLaMare family.  Kona The Dog (our granddaughter) sits on our patio mat doing perpetual guard duty.  “All is well and safe,” Kona is thinking.  Tonight, family and friends gather here for pizza and the start of the football season with a Seahawks game.  All right-y then, life is good! 

8-15-2016 BLAINE, WA PART 2

A-Duh!

At about 7:30 PM on Sunday, as the sunset turned our world to bright pink and gold, we sailed toward shore with our precious cargo in the cooler.  We loaded the crabs into a cage that is moored to the pier and lowered them into the water, giving them a 24 hour reprieve.  That done, we tidied up the boat, gathered our belongings and called it a fine day. 

The plan is to go out for more crabbing today, Monday, to a different not-so-secret spot where even more crabs hang out.  Once again, we loaded up the fresh chicken bait, secured the flags and dropped the pots into the briny, shut the engine down, poured a cold one and drifted lazily in the sun and the ocean breeze.  This may not be Heaven but if it isn’t, I’m OK here instead.  After a time, we pulled the pots up.  We caught many a crab but only a few passed the, shall we say, sex and size test (Ahem…) and the rest were thrown back to grow up and make more babies.  We made it a shorter day of crabbing and sailed back to port. 

"Break this thing-y off."

"Then, break these and save that part."

Another first adventure was in store.  Bob sorted through yesterday’s and today’s booty and chose the victims for tonight’s steamed crab feast.  Next, he taught Rob the art of committing crabular homicide, breaking them apart, cleaning them. 

Crab murderer

Next, the cook stove was readied for the steaming process using a large pot with water, vinegar and a slug of beer in the bottom.  On the strainer, place a layer of crab sections, a sprinkle of Cajun seasoning (“Slap Ya Mama”), another layer of legs, a sprinkle of seasoning and so on. 

Jake and the crabby ones

A layer of crab

A sprinkle of "Slap Ya Mama"

Place the pot on the burner and fire that sucker up!  While the crabs steamed, we went down to the dock to spray and flush everything with fresh water, organize and stow all the equipment and gather up our things. Fifteen minutes later, the crabs were done to a turn.  Ada does it best and had prepared a pretty table outside in the sunset and the feasting began.  You break off the pointy end of a leg to use it as a pick to pull the tender, fresh-caught-today crab meat out of the shells and roll it gently around on the tongue.  Repeat.  Repeat again.  And again.  Incredible!  Ada and Bob took us, these last 2 days, on a brand-new ride!  What a fantastic experience!

Gourmet crab feast by the sea

As the sun slipped behind the sea, it grew dark and we all grew sleepy.  It was time to pack up the chairs and backpack, kiss, hug and sadly say, “good bye” to Ada, Bob and Jake and head for the homestead, happy, wind blown, rosy cheeked and grinning from ear to ear. 

Good bye, Jakey Doodle!