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!

8-13-2016 BLAINE, WA

Jim

Liz and Marnel

This resort, Birchwood, in Blaine, WA on Birch Bay, is quite beautiful.  We are surrounded by tall pines that reach all the way up to God and the broad expanse of the blue bay peeks through the trees.  It is quiet and starry.  Best of all, we are parked next to friends,

Rob

Marnel and Grubby,

Grubby

who are pickleball snowbirds we met in Pahrump.  In addition, tomorrow we meet up with two other snowbird pickleball couples, Jim and Liz and Ada and Bob.  It is a veritable tournament and reunion!

Just kidding on the tournament part.  We just bat around on the courts and giggle and horse around.  Yesterday, we played for 4 ½ hours!  I was completely wasted!  But never let it be said that we can’t go on!  Bob and Ada own a parcel of land at Sandy Point Shores where they park their fifth wheel for the summer season each year.  The power boat is moored at the pier but otherwise, the land is undeveloped.  A picnic at their digs followed pickleball and everyone brought treats.  Bob and Ada bbq’d outstanding Korean teriyaki ribs. 

Oh Bob!

Rob and I were assigned to bring chili beans.  As luck would have it, on Saturdays, everyone who is anyone has a garage sale on the point.  There were garage sales for miles!  Well,  you need a crock pot for chili beans, don’t you?  We found a crock pot for $2 and bazinga!  Beans!  After the picnic we were done, right?  Not so fast!

OK, he's texting?!

The annual block party takes place nearby, the “Elvis Festival.”  Well, who can go through life without attending that?!  Indeed, that is why we traveled here!  Marnel wrote and told us that they were attending the Elvis Festival with Ada, Bob, Jim and Liz and it wouldn’t be complete without us.  Okey dokey, then!  Drive 2,000 miles to four inches from Canada (eh?) to join a monster block party and watch Elvis and

Roy Orbison

Roy Orbison impersonators and drink beer till we drop?  We can do this!  What else is there to do in August in Pahrump?!  And who was the best Elvis of the three performers, you ask?  Erin Wong.  Last I checked, Elvis was not Asian and Erin is not Caucasian but Erin did a great job.

Caught in the act!

 

Elvis Wong

Everyone made merry and danced in the streets for several hours in the balmy evening air on the bay and we pretty women shaked, rattled and rolled!

Sunday called for a ceremony at St. Pickleball and another picnic at Bob and Ada’s out on the spit.  This time, my job was pulled ham sandwiches.  Enter trusty $2 crock pot!  Here’s the recipe:  Chop a picnic ham into chunks that will fit into the crock pot.  Pour a beer over it.  Simmer all night and the next day, remove the bones and fat and shred the meat.  Pile it on a hard roll with horseradish, dill pickle relish and hot mustard.  Wash down with an ice cold beer.  Yum!  This trusty fool-proof recipe is brought to you by my baby brother, Larry, and his wife, Linda.  

Did I capture this or what?!

In the afternoon, Bob and Ada took us out on the briney to capture crabs.  This was a learning experience for Lucky Lindy.  First, you drive the boat out to your favorite secret crab spot.  The trip in itself was worth the price of admission. 

Rob, Grubby and Mount Baker

Ada and Marnel, cruisin' babes!

The sun, sparkling water, blue sky, snow-covered Mr. Baker on the skyline and salty ocean spray provides a feeling of sublime serenity and exhileration. 

Then, Captain Bob got seriously into teaching us the fine art of crabbing.  First, put the boat at the perfect coordinates where all the crabs hang out.  We brought the bait enroute to Bob and Ada’s:  a few pounds of fresh chicken.  At this point, we sliced the chicken to give the crabs even more reason to come and check this out, put the chicken in the bait box, hooked it down inside the cage and then, threw the crab cage overboard.  The cage is about 2X2X1 wire attached to several buoys and a flag so we would know where to find it later.  We lowered the four cages down to depth, then, turned off the engine, poured a drink, laughed and told stories and argued religion and politics while we waited for crabs to get suckered into the traps as we drifted along in the warm ocean breeze.

After about an hour, Capt. Bob decided we should have a look at each of these traps to see if we had caught anything at all besides an old tire or something. 

Crabs!  Yay!

When what to our wondering eyes should appear:  Many crabs were in our cages!  We carefully meaured each one and if one were too small or a female, Bob would throw it back.  Pays to be a chick, if you know what I mean!

Careful, Krauser!  They bite!

 -continued-

Chicks go overboard!

8-10-2016 SALEM. OREGON

(One more thing.  We noticed that the locals pronounce Yreka two different ways.  I have always said, “why-REEK-ah” as many do.  But we notice that some folks say the “y” as if it were an “i” prounouced like “ee,” as in “ee-REEK-ah.”  Just thought you’d like to know this important factoid.)

We spent about 48 hours in the Peoples’ Republic of Oregonistan, specifically Salem where Mike (#2 son) and Jenn live.  We’ve been lucky to see Mike for the second time this year, as his job running the music store and playing in the Mike DeLaMare Quartet keep him very, very busy.  But we four found time after hours to share a few laughs over cocktails and dinner for two nights.  On the second night, Mike and Jenn took us to one of their favorite digs, the Union Barrel, a beautiful place with a 50 feet long one piece heavy wooden bar and matching polished wood back bar.  When the proprietors moved them to their places here, they had to close the streets! 

Jenn, Mike, Rob and the fluffy one

The Union Barrel is famous for its varieties of whiskeys and bourbons which they serve as a flight, i.e., in small glasses on a plank of wood.  Mike and Jenn are the whiskey pros, we don’t know from whiskey.  They pointed out the various special qualities of each one.  I took a couple of sips and felt my whole head heat up!  The Italian ristorante, Christo’s, that was the follow-up serves dangerously delicious food, red wine and chianti.  I recommend the veal marsala!  Pizza Boy had, you guessed it, pizza.

We had a free day to nose about and started the day with lunch at the Flight Deck, located at the Salem General Aviation Airport.  We classified the food as five star and ate as we watched the airplanes take off and land outside the big picture windows.  Hanging from the ceiling are big model airplanes that fly, or did at one time.  What a cool place!

The Flight Deck!

Pretty cool place with excellent food!

Next, we decided to visit the capitol building in Salem.  We already have this one in the bag but we wanted, one more time, to see the quote etched in white stone on the front of the  building, just to be sure we read it right the first time we were here.  Yup, we read it right, “… for the common welfare and the sharing of benefits justly apportioned.”  Huh?  We notice that no one takes credit (or blame) for this quote.  We decided it was either Alinsky, Obama or Marx (not Groucho).  Isn’t that just special?    Moved, we shared a justly apportioned group hug.

Down at the city park, there is a building that houses a beautiful carousel, all lights and colorful horses, elephants and covered wagons.  We could not learn any history of the carousel.  Politely, we asked if they had brochures or booklets. 

“No!” she said.  OK.  We thought instead we’d take a ride on the Willamette River on the paddle wheel boat called the Willamette Queen.  They were closed today.  Okey dokey.  Out to EZ Orchards Farms, then, to see if the market was open.  Hurray, it was!  They have bins filled with every make and model of fruit and vegetable imaginable, spices, homemade soaps, giant freshly baked cookies, fresh baked bread, jars of berry preserves, a variety of pressed oils, local wines, arts and crafts. 

EZ Orchard Farms

Oh and a frozen Marienberry pie which is now safely in captivity.  I’m dangerous in markets like these.  I belong on a leash.

Wow!  Somebody stop me!

We gave the kids a great big bear hug and set our clock for a 9:30AM departure in the morning.  At 11:05AM we drove off, heading northward to Blain, WA, four inches from Canada.  Rush hour traffic through Seattle made this a long 8 hour trip.  The park is beautiful with tall shady pines and pickleball courts.  Parked, settled in, hooked up, cold cocktails…. Yup.  

8-8-2016 YREKA, CA

Miracles do happen and our departure time occurred at 10AM, difficult because we were leaving so much fun.  We waved our good byes to Fritz and Pal and headed northward toward Yreka, CA.  On the route, lucky for us, is a deli in Corning, CA called the Olive Pit, a place you should visit before you leave planet Earth.  Any time we learn that Corning is on the way, we consider it the jackpot.  The Olive Pit has grown so much due to its reputation that they have a special parking lot in the back for big rigs.

Wanted:  one bottle of gin!

Walk in, grab a cart and take out a second on the house, Baby!  You will find shelf after shelf of pickled spreads, jarred olives, black, somewhat green or green, stuffed and spiced up with everything your heart and mind can imagine.  Stuffed with mushrooms, kalamatas, capers, anchovies, a variety of cheeses, spices such as cajun, mexican, smokey, chipotle and beer.  God loves me and wants me to be happy.  Well, we exhausted the monthly portion of the budget allocated for olives, Rob ordered a ham, sausage, provolone and mufletta sandwich from the deli and we left richer than when we had arrived.

It’s a shame that California is so fucked up, politically and financially.  It is such a beautiful place.  Driving north past Mt. Shasta is almost a religious experience.  Around the bend there it is and you almost want to genuflect.  The roads are bordered by tall pines and the sky is navy blue and Shasta stands there, immutable, saying, “What?”  Stunning.

Beautiful Mount Shasta

Some folks in Oregon learned that there was gold to be found near Scott River south of Yreka some 30 miles.  In the year 1851, they embarked to collect it.  Along the way, they camped at a flat near Yreka through which passed a huge rain storm.  In the morning when they arose, the pack animals were pulling up the bunch grass by the roots and … what the…?  The roots were glittering!  Gold!  The town grew to 5,000 inhabitants and this area, now known as Yreka, was considered one of the “richest square miles on earth.”  (I don’t know how they determined this.)  Of course, the town burned down in 1871 on July 4^th as a result of firecrackers.  Undaunted, the citizens rebuilt the town from brick and blocks, which don’t burn, by the way.  Who knew?

The name “Shasta” was already taken by another town and so this town, known then as Shasta Butte City, took the name Yreka, Indian for, you guessed it, “Shasta.”  “Shasta” is probably a name for something else, too, but we couldn’t find that out.  I mean, we couldn’t out with which that to find… or whatever.  I am trying very hard not to end the sentence with a preposition.

Lindy at Elks Lodge bar

Importantly, there is an Elks Lodge in Yreka.  We stepped in and froze in our tracks.  There it was, my God, the most beautiful back bar we’ve ever seen!  It was built in England in the 1850s, at some point shipped around Cape Horn to SFO and trucked to Yreka, then installed in the Elks Lodge in 1957.  Made of solid highly polished cherry wood, the mirrors, lights and crystal chandeliers enhanced the sparkling beauty all the more.  It is spectacular!  A reason all its own to visit Yreka!  Our luck ran out when the lady told us that the bar wasn’t open but we at least had the good luck to see this immense art treasure.  Nothing, by the way, was open in Yreka.  They roll up the sidewalks on Sunday and Monday.  Fortunately, we could explore the historic district and read the landmark plaques on almost all of the buildings on Miner Street to learn what we could on our own.

Chips, hamburger, corn on the cob and a beer and we are ready to call it a day. Tomorrow is a bit of a drive, almost 300 miles.  That will be tiring so it’s best to hit the pillows, now.  Good night with love.

Toonie Time at the homestead

The Jeepster & B2 at Yreka RV Park