9-19-19 Home Sweet Home!

Just before departure this morning, I, Lindy, took out a second on the house and made another Schat’s Bakkerÿ run for freshly-baked loaves of world-famous sheep herder bread, pecan pullaways and bread pudding.  We are on the white flag lap.  Our homing beacons are screaming.  Seems like forever ago that we pigged out on oysters and alligator tails, toured the White House and waded in the headwaters of the Mighty Mississippi. 

Tallying up a few things: 

• Total days on the trip come to one day shy of 14 weeks.  No Lewis and Clark, granted, but an extravaganza by our standards!  We clocked ~8,500 miles on Noobee, who by the way did a great job.  Side-trips in the Jeepster tack on ~3,500 more. 
• We added 8 more capitals to our log, bringing us up to 49 capitol buildings bagged plus the federal capitol building.  We have one to go:  Honolulu.  The capitol buildings hobby didn’t necessarily require Bee and Noobee, some in the northeast and Juneau, for example.  Honolulu would be a tough one for Noobee unless we install oarlocks and a rudder. 
• Twenty-two kinds of seafood met their demise, if you include alligator, but we are not sure if that’s a “seafood.”  (We had an opportunity to cook up frog legs but that is a bridge too far.  How do the frogs get around if you do that?  Frogs might not be “seafood,” either, so that’s another reason to leave the poor little bastards alone.  Besides, they’re cute.  Alligators, on the other hand, deserve what they get.) 
• If you count my brother George’s yard and Number 1 son Rick’s yard, we parked the beast at 37 different parks from sea to shining sea.  We were threading the needle, to be sure, but Noobee was a champ.
• I gained 3 pounds.  Damn!
• I crossed off two more bucket list items but there are still so many and it keeps growing.  Worthy challenges and lots more ships to swim out to!

The final stretch skirts the north edge of Death Valley and south to the driveway at 1640.  We arrive loaded down with treasures, fond memories of great times with family and friends and incredible golden highlights to recall for years to come.  We are grateful for all the good luck we had in making this trip a success.  It’s weird being home.  The house is so BIG!  And I’m still not sure of something:  Are we now on vacation or did we just get home from vacation?  Ain’t life grand?!  Thank you for traveling with us, everyone!  Maybe we will meet up with many more of you sometimes on our version of the “Expedition of Discovery,” you just never know.  God-speed to you all and farewell for now with love from Lucky Lindy and Roberto!

9-18-19 Hat Creek & Bishop, CA

Rob, caught cold-handed with a malt

I meant to mention that Grants Pass was named for Ulysses S. after his victory at Vicksburg in 1863.  Also, the town has an old historic district that is really worth a visit.  The pharmacy was built in 1904 and it still functions as a pharmacy, complete with the original soda fountain.  I wandered off and Rob strayed away, unattended.  Later, I found him perched on a soda fountain stool slurping a malt through a (plastic!) straw.

Next stop was Hat Creek.  As far as I know, there isn’t a single thing going on in Hat Creek.  This was just an intermediate stop to break up a long drive.  The population is 219 but I don’t know where they are.  As far as I could tell, it consists of one intersection and we saw about 5 people.  In the early 1900s, nearby Mt. Lassen blew its stack and this area was devastated by floods and mudslides.  Undaunted, homesteaders Mel and Mary Shearin pressed on.  Mel guided pack trains of visitors through the wilderness.  Mary constructed a small post office and store in Old Station (just up the road from Hat Creek) and was appointed postmaster in 1931.  Her building still stands and is thought to be the smallest post office in the US.  So, in our travels, we have found the smallest post office, the smallest police station (in Carrabelle, FL) and the smallest bar (on a harbor tour boat in Oregon).   

Inside the smallest post office in
the US in Old Station, CA

Rob at Mary's post office

Smallest police station located
in Carrabelle, FL

Maybe most of the population of Hat Creek is military folks.  At our park, there was no phone reception because the park is located on federally-controlled land.  I don’t know how they do it but our phones were shut down within 5 miles of their “space.”  Because we had no phone, we also had no hotspot which means communication-wise, we were dead in the water.  Not even a call for help was possible.  The park did have spotty 2-hour internet access with Tengo.  Tengo sucks insofar as sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.  The clock starts ticking the minute you log on and it shuts you down exactly 2 hours later whether you use it or not.  So basically, this was the most bare bones we have experienced on this trip.  We felt pretty vulnerable and helpless and couldn’t wait to get back on the road and back to civilization. 

A quick overnighter in Minden, NV, again just to break up the long drive.

Central CA had a lot of miners in the early days and food was scarce, especially meat.  Ranchers from southern CA began herding cattle to the area and that is how Bishop initially sprang up.  Later, sheep ranchers also joined the party.  The township was named for Samuel Bishop, one of the first European settlers in the area.  Now Bishop is kind of a cute little tourist town with a quaint main street full of shops, cafes, saloons and so forth.  The biggest attraction in the town is the Dutch Schat’s Bakkerÿ.  As a community, the shepherds who watch their flocks by night had their own culinary preferences as ethnic groups commonly do.  One particular item was shepherd’s bread.  Erick Schat saw a market and began his bakery in 1938 selling loaves of this special bread. 

Rob and Peggy

Rob in Bakery Heaven with racks and
racks of sheep herder bread.

Another big room at Schat's!

Now, the bakery features a thousand different breads, rolls and pastries including apfel strudel (Rob) and blueberry tarts (Lindy) but their specialty is still sheep herder bread.  People come from everywhere simply to shop at Schat’s, where every item in the store, made fresh on a daily basis, flies off the shelves.  We are camped at the small rv park just behind the bakery which is either great or deadly, depending on how you look at it.  Well-planned by my beloved!

 

Peggy!

Our friends Peggy and Pat used to live in Pahrump and we’ve been friends for years.  When Pat died, Peggy moved away from the memories and now lives among friends in Bishop.  Peggy took us up into the mountains to pretty alpine Lake Sabrina.  As luck would have it, the café there is closed on Weds. (Who knew?)  Still, we could sit out on the deck overlooking the blue water and snack on apple pie a la mode.  Later, we were guests of Peggy and her friends Ben and Amy and family, at a fabulous backyard bbq of smoked ribs, beans, cold beer and all the trimmings.  They outdid themselves, really.  What a great day!

Peggy and Lindy at alpine Lake Sabrina

Isn't it gorgeous?  And it was
windy!  And COLD!  Elevation 9,000 ft.

Meet Gentle Ben

Amy, Ben and Peggy

9-13-19 Salem & Grants Pass, OR

We continue to meet up with friends and family on this marathon trip.  Rob and Joe met at Boeing 49 years ago when they were working together on the guided-missile hydrofoil.  Life interfered and they drifted apart but a few years back, they found each other again and rekindled their friendship.  Fortunately, Joe and Barb were available while we were in Seattle and we met them at the Pike Place Market for a fun lunch at the Athenian.  (I just love that place!)  That was about a week ago, I’m not sure.  Our activities are starting to run together in my old mind.

Dad & No. 2 son, Mike

We lit in Salem on the afternoon of Sept. 10^th, hoping that No. 2 son would be available.  Mike is very busy at this time of year supplying youngsters with their band instruments from his music store, Willamette Valley Music Co.  Mike’s fiancé, Jen, is a busy woman, too, having become a cop in the last year after going through the extensive learning process involved in that discipline at the police academy.  They have been working opposite shifts, but as luck would have it, they found a few hours off at the same time to have us over for a wonderful steak dinner.  We got to see their newly-acquired house and puppy, Thaddeus, who is in serious need of tranquilizers.  A great evening with the kids.

Jen, Mike and Thadd the
Wonderdog (as in, I wonder
if tranquilizers would help...)

Grants Pass (spelled Grant’s Pass until 1900) is a cool little town.  Its origin goes back as far as 1825 when the settlers were hunters and trappers.  It lies in the Rogue River Valley on the Rogue River.  The Indians were a little cantankerous and warlike, fighting to keep possession of their lands.  The trappers called them “The Rogues.”  When gold was discovered here in 1852, the rush was on and the population of Grants Pass grew quickly.  The gold dried up eventually but the town continued to thrive because of the railroads and the burgeoning lumber industry.  Saloons, whorehouses and hotels sprang up followed by banks, stores and schools.  (Priorities, don’tchaknow.)  Later, dairies and vineyards spread throughout the fertile land.

This dude stands outside
the Chamber of Commerce

Grants Pass, home of the Cavemen

In 1922, a bunch of guys got together and formed the Cavemen Club in Grants Pass.  It was just a wild-assed brainchild but it became really popular.  Their main purpose was similar to other clubs like the Elks or Eagles:  get together and drink.  They would dress in animal hides like cavemen for special events like parades and such to promote Grants Pass and help the community grow.  Now, everything is “Cavemen.”  The school sports teams are the Cavemen.  Cavemen Saloon, Cavemen Fence Co., Cavemen Restaurant, you name it. 

The Taprock sits on the
Rogue River's edge

We found a fun restaurant on the Rogue River and stopped in for lunch on the outdoor patio.  We sifted through some of our literature and learned about the annual duck race!  A person can sponsor a little yellow rubber ducky for $10.  On Sept. 21^st, all the ducks, up to 25,000 of them, are launched into the Rogue River a mile or two upstream.  They float down the river, untouched, and the first of them to arrive at Riverside Park across from the patio where we were sitting, win prizes.  Each ducky wears a number so everybody will know who won.  The first prize is $15,000 off on a new car from one of 3 local dealerships that sponsor the duck race.  Just another excuse to party and drink, I’m thinking, and I’m good with that.  I thought about entering just for the hoot (the proceeds are worthy) but I really wouldn’t know what to do if I won.  Best to keep all my ducks in a rowboat.   

We have traveled some very crappy, bumpy roads along the way.  Indiana springs immediately to mind.  Rob says that some of these roads were constructed by people who went to Paving College but called in sick on “concrete smoothing day.”  We are now north of Mt. Shasta headed south and the highway is beautifully smooth.  Rob observes, “This highway was built by Road Scholars.”  (Hey, I live with this on a daily basis.)

Lovely Lady Shasta dominates the horizon

9-9-19 Grayland & Westport, WA & the OR coast

Bears & berries!

Grayland Beach State Park is a fairly simple, basic park with no amenities whatsoever, unless you count the blackberry bushes.  It didn’t take long to pick some.   Fortunately, there were no bears to fight for the berries.  Just rinse off the bear cooties, top with a sprinkle of sugar and spoon onto a scoop of ice cream.  Worth the stay at this park.  Yum!

We’ve been to Westport a few years back but it wasn’t far up the road and certainly deserved another visit.  It’s a rustic working fishermen’s village and port where there are more hardcore salts walking up and down the floats (piers) than there are tourists.  They will smile and nod at us foreigners but mostly, they are focused on the job, pulling their vessels into port, unloading the catch or sailing away again for more. 

Proud owner of a
24-lb. ling cod

The annual derby is in progress at the moment with monetary prizes for the largest catch of certain fishes.  While we watched, a fisherman off the High Life was walking to the weigh station with a monster ling cod, nearly as long as the fisherman was tall.  It weighed in at 24 lb. and became the leader in the ling cod category of the contest.  They announced this over loudspeakers throughout the port and I think the fisherman was quite happy.  He may just win the $1,500 prize.  The biggest prize was $10,000 for the largest Chinook salmon.  Unfortunately, we didn’t get to see any other contestants bringing their catches to the weighmaster.

Village of Westport as viewed
from the tower

Oyster boat

Taken from the top of the tower

Working man with his fish

Bringing home the catch

Local livestock - jellyfish

The Easter Seal

"Bark!  Bark!  Bark!" 
What a racket!

Across from the floats, there is a row of little shops and restaurants.  Many of the patrons around midday are hard-working fishermen in rubber boots and bib-style waders.  A lot of the fish served in the restaurants is fresh off the boat or fresh from the farms.  My Dungeness crab omelet was perfect.  After lunch, we strolled around more to watch all the activity and then climbed up the tower to look out over the breakwater.  Fishing boats were coming in and sailing out, seals were barking from the buoys and the breakers were crashing against the rocks.  It was a calm, sunny day and so all was fairly serene.  However, at the end of the breakwater is a memorial monument honoring fishermen who were taken by the tempests on the sea.  The names on the plaques indicate possible fathers and sons based upon the dates and so this mariner’s way of life apparently runs deeply in the blood.

Buying fresh fish

Rob examines the tub of crab

We bought fresh fish from
this youngster

The best part was next.  We walked Float # 8 and found a fisherman that was selling fish and shellfish such as albacore tuna, ling cod, salmon, crab and clams right off the boat.  We loaded up and he put our selections in a big bag full of ice.  What an absolutely delightful day!

On the morning of the 10^th, we once more packed up Noobee and continued to head south along the coast, deliberately choosing the smaller roads through the scenic countryside.  The 4-mile-long Astoria-Megler Bridge across the Columbia River where it meets the Pacific is an impressive engineering accomplishment.  The river flows out and fights the Pacific trying to flow in and the violent currents have caused a lot of maritime chaos here.  Ships are not allowed to sail alone onto the Columbia from the ocean.  A pilot boat sails out to the ships and a seasoned pilot boards and guides the ship safely through the raging passage and constantly changing shoals.  The area is not called the “Graveyard of the Pacific” for nothing. 

Columbia River approaching the bridge

A

Astoria-Megler Bridge

The rugged OR coast

Continuing our drive down the coast could become a little harrowing, at times.  Noobee cautiously threaded the needle up and down the hills and through the narrow switchbacks with trees on one side and a drop-off to the boulders and waves on the other.  “Don’t lean out that way, Noobee!  Lean the other way!”  It’s a white-knuckle experience.  God’s ocean takes no prisoners.  It is spiritual in its scenic beauty but it is always quite nice to be further inland on terra firma where gravity doesn’t involve cliffs. 

"Terrible Tilly," the Tillamook
Light, named for its
exposure to the violent wind
and waves

9-8-19 Snohomish, WA

R & T RV Park - The nicest one so far!

Family is a precious commodity.  I know, I have one!  Snohomish, WA is Family Central of No. 1 son’s clan, Rick, Trina, Kennie and Joseph (Rachie was MIA).  We are parked in Rick and Trina’s back yard for a few days of laughing, touching base and telling lies over drinks and fabulous food.  We were lucky to hit a few days of.... shall we say, “cloud failure,” which does occasionally happen in the PacNW….. so it was especially nice to spend time on the back patio in the sunshine at cocktail time.

Meet Kona, the Wonderdog!
She guards whenever Gramma
is in the motorhome.

Saturday was the big day.  First, Trina, Kennie and I went junkin’ to the garage and estate sales around the neighborhood and hours later, came home with many treasures and lighter wallets.  That was a ton of fun for me and I hope for them, too.  I just love junkin!’  But the big event came in the afternoon.  Rick and Trina had planned a “seafood fest” for friends and family including Rob’s brother Paul who is up here at this time.  Well, well, well.  The kids went above and beyond, much to the delight of everyone. 

Shucking oysters by the truckload!

There was a big box that had been shipped in, chock full smoked oysters and scallops, live oysters, mussels and clams.  At an earlier time, Rick had gone ocean fishing and brought home another addition to the feast, salmon steaks which he seasoned and bbq’d.  More?  OK, there was a boatload of king crab legs and breaded and fried rockfish.  But weren’t there sides, you ask?  Yes, indeed.  Slices of baguettes to be dipped in seasoned olive oil and a plate piled high with various Wisconsin cheeses to go with crackers and designer beers.  Maybe there were a few healthy items like lettuce, we didn’t notice.  The homemade chocolate chip cookies clouded our vision.  A feast fit for a king (or a queen, ahem).

Cookies!  And some humans...
Kennie and Trina

No. 1 son, Rick

Brother Paul

Kelly (obviously rooting correctly!)

Mary, the best part of Kelly

This party was the prelude to the big finale, the Huskies-Cal football game.  But the PacNW weather intervened with lightening, thunder and a deluge that emptied the clouds as well as a stadium full of fans, players and coaches.  The game did not resume till 11PM, long after our eyelids drooped.  Turns out it would not have been worth muscling it through to the end, Cal beat my Huskies by one point at the very tail end of the game.  It’s a bitter pill, Berkeley beating my Dawgs.  Thanks God I missed it.  The memories of family and our gastronomic extravaganza live on!

Rob, Rick Trina, Kennie, Brandon,
Joseph and Lindy
and the irrepressible Kona, protector
of Gramma

Check out time at DeLaMare Park is 11AM, give or take 3 hours.  We gathered up our things, stowed our treasures and packed away spices from the wonderful garden.  Hugs and kisses all around and we are ready to launch.  We face black clouds and green and yellow spots on the weather map.  Hey, we’re in the PacNW.  It’s OK.  This, too, shall pass.  We are on our way to Grayland.  An interesting name.  Considering that we are in the PacNW, it is more an adjective than a noun.  We shall see.

9-3-19 Leavenworth, WA

Leavenworth was established during the days when the railroads and logging were the ticket.  That was way back in 1880.  Eventually, the logging industry and the railroad business began to dwindle.  The townspeople got together to figure out how to turn things around and save their town from complete impoverishment and ultimately, abandonment.  They chose to try tourism.  In 1960, they put their heads together and collectively agreed to transform the face of the town into “little Bavaria.”  Together, they rolled up their sleeves and got to work and created the masterpiece that we see today.  It is as if this little town were lifted in total out of Bavaria and dropped into central Washington.

Typical architecture and decor
in Leavenworth.  These are
my people!

View from the upper patio
at Gustav's

Bavarian Lodge

The distillery - every town
needs one of these.

Gustav's patio

V

The "Maipole"

The town "festhalle" - basically,
where they all party

Rob in "little Bavaria"

I don’t know if the population of Leavenworth in those days was predominantly German or if, later, the transformation of the city attracted a large number of German folks.  Either way, many of the shopkeepers and townsfolk have the appearance and the accent of the German people and many of their restaurants, events and festivals reflect their customs including the traditional dress, music and delightful food, beer and wine.  Heavy and fattening, to be sure, especially when washed down with the requisite hefe, but altogether wunderbar!  Almost all of the buildings are done in that gingerbread house motif, banks, gas stations, real estate offices and, yes, the check-in office at our park.  We are parked at Icicle River RV Park, down in a “canyon” surrounded by (small) mountains covered with tall trees.  Alles ist sehr schön.

The Icicle River RV Park office

Is this too cute, or what?!

Rob lived in Germany a few times as a child and a young adult and I, Krauser, come from 100% Kraut stock.  It wasn’t a far leap for us to become submerged in the atmosphere immediately.  Early dinner at The Rhein Haus, lunch at Gustav’s and dinner at King Ludwig’s involved brats, sauerkraut, wienerschnitzel, schweinschnitzel, pom frits, sauerbraten, blaukraut and spätzle.  Strudel for breakfast, obviously.  We have been fortunate on this trip to rendezvous with friends as we passed through or near their town.  Friends since we were 13 years old, Edwina and Bud met us for lunch in Raleigh.  Friends since my Madison days in our early 20s, Mustang Sally and John had dinner with us in Delavan.  The rendezvous in Leavenworth was most unexpected, though.  Tim and Sue, rv travelers and friends since we met in a park in 2008, are out and about on their Summer trip, too.  We happened to cross paths here in Leavenworth for part of just one day.   We met for dinner at King Ludwig’s.  It is really very nifty to meet up with friends along the way, renewing the ties that bind.

Prosit from Leavenworth, WA!

Back in 1986, Rob and I took a trip to Bavaria.  We brought back a Steinbach nutcracker.  Collecting a few of them became a bit of a hobby of mine and up until now, I had five that I always proudly display during the Christmas season.  For more than 30 years, I have been searching for a chef.  No particular reason for that other than that I love to cook so I wanted a chef.  I found a Steinbach baker but it just wasn’t the same.  Every time I would see a Christmas store somewhere I would poke my head in to continue my quest, later to learn that they are not being created anymore.  The Steinbach family has closed up shop.  Kris Kringl is a Christmas shop in Leavenworth.  As a matter of course, I dropped in and to save time, asked up front if they have any Steinbach nutcrackers.  “Yes!” she said, “All of these, behind me, and some in that glass case.”  Not expecting much, really, I glanced around and my jaw dropped.  After 30+ years of searching, there in the glass case stood Axel, my Steinbach nutcracker chef.  We learned that this nutcracker was created in a series by the sixth and last generation of the Steinbach family to do this work and it is serialized and autographed by Herr Steinbach.  I nearly cried.  Axel joined the DeLaMare family and is safely tucked away under my bed.  Once again, Rob has hit the jackpot with his choice of campgrounds:  doing time in Leavenworth.  Washington, that is.

Meet Axel Steinbach DeLaMare!