Home from Seattle...

Back home. Had a great time meeting Jesse's friends, catching a couple of good restaurants (Circa and Marcela's Creole Cookery), staying up late checking out the Pioneer Square bar scene and even took the "adult only" late night tour of the Seattle Underground. All in all, a good time.

Am not going to expound on any of the details at this time. If anyone is interested just get in touch.......

Seattle, Wa........After several years of invitations from Jesse we finally decided to drive up to visit Sarah's kid. He's leaving in a week to move back to Eugene! We dropped the dog off at Auntie Laurie's and put the cat on autopilot and drove 5 hours north. Not wanting to get to town too early, we stopped in Tacoma to visit the Museum of Glass. Spectacular very breakable object-de-arts in the gallery-N.W. Native American motifs-the real show was in their "hot room". Apprentices melt impossibly large globs of glass in one of 6 orange glowing ovens as the featured artist orchestrates the dance of fusing, molding and shaping. We watch enthralled as heat rises 100 feet out the top of this cone shaped theater.

Jesse lives right downtown in Pioneer Square. We crash on the floor of his 10th floor studio and move the car each morning at 8 to a paid parking space to avoid tickets. Wed. night is karaoke night at the Fuel. After a nap so we can stay up past 9pm we joined Jess and his friends as they had an obvious good time belting out songs ranging from show tunes to heavy metal. And no, Sarah and I only watched as the flow of alcohol lowered inhibitions, increased enthusiasm and definitely influenced talent!

Thursday Sarah and I took the ferry to Bainbridge Island. It's early morning so we board with all the other tourists going west as the daily commuters disembark on their bikes or walking carrying briefcases and messenger bags. I leave Sarah in the targeted knit shop as I stroll down to Eagle Harbor marina for a cup of coffee at Pegasus's coffee shop. My on-shore "living room" in the early 80's when I attempted to be one of these island commuters huddled in a cramped, wet, exposed 32 ft piece of floating tupperware, is now up scale and catering to tourists with expensive lattes and sprouts on sandwiches! One welcoming addition is the Public Pub where we had lunch of fish and chips and fish taco accompanied by acceptable island brewed ESB.

Well, it's 9am. I've been in the cozy Cherry Coffee shop in the basement of Jesse's building since pumping a parking meter at 8. Time to take a decaf up to Sarah. Today we go shopping.....

Route to Tetonia and beyond........

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Westward ho...

Our allotted time for Yellowstone has elapsed as we drive south out of this park into another, Teton National Park. Forest of huge straight lodge pole pine line the highway until we reach Jenny Lake and the silhouete of the Teton range beyond. Across the lake a wild fire burns as smoke coats the mountains in a blue haze. We turn left into the Gros Ventere area and the small town of Kelly where my sister has rented a small cabin for 20 years. Her Jackson residence. Often in the summer she sub-rents the cabin and stays in two authentic sheep wagons she has acquired. Sarah and I spend time examining these ancient trailers of simple efficiency to add to the mental blueprints I maintain for the time that I will build my own ship of the road.

Driving thru Jackson, altho nostalgic, is stressful with traffic, tourists, buses, souvenir shops, tourists, and depressing new developments. A white knuckle drive over Teton Pass (at a 10% grade it is one of the steepest passes in the country) I reminisced with Sarah about the killer backcountry skiing I've done at the summit as we dropped into Idaho. Anne, who had so graciously offered to dog sit Herman while she visited a friend about 3 hrs west called to say she was having a good time and wondered if she could stay another day. We agreed to pick up the mutt on our way home the next day. Our final night at the Tetonia cabin included pizza at Tony's in Driggs and a quiet evening of packing and reflection of how we too could eagerly live this simple rustic way if we wanted to.

Sunday morning we meet Anne and her friend and accept a kind offer for breakfast. As Sarah is renewing her relationship with Herman, Paul shows me a round the place: the log cabin he is building alone by hand (including felling and stripping the logs), the ultralight he is building and the rare Harley he is restoring. A pleasant and comfortable man I hope to see more of in the future.

We are convinced to take the more northern "scenic" route around the Sawtooth range. Assured it would be prettier and it "really isn't any longer" than going thru the desert, we chug up winding narrow mountain roads with shoulders of nothing but air and follow horse trailers of firewood till we get to Boise. It is pretty. Dinner is Burger King on the road in my lap and an argument with Sarah for dessert about what to do about the "check engine" light that is now on. (nothing critical. Time for scheduled oil change. I win!). We arrive in Burns after dark and pull into the first open motel we come to. The Silver Spur Motel is on the east end of town. It ain't Days Inn but it is comfortable, dog friendly, cheap and has a very acceptable continental breakfast.

Our drive back into Eugene included a stop in Sisters so Sarah can check out some yarn shop. I picked up bread and cheese sticks at our favorite bakery, some salami and cheese and a bottle of 3 buck chuck at Rays. We stopped for a picnic along the Metolius. Sarah had never been there. I, however, have a history of breaking/dislocating my right pinky finger while boating this fast cold river when I fell running back along the trail to rescue a friend who had gotten stuck on a rock. Thank goodness "nurse mode" kicked in so I was able to reshape my finger and get a ring off before the pain and swelling started.

Home at a reasonable hour. Unpacked. Read the mail. Watered the plants. Plopped my butt on the couch to watch TV. Adventure over for now. Starting to plan our next but will probably keep it at or near sea level! May play with this blog thing for a while. Have some tricks I'd like to learn. Also, can't think of a better way to "get myself published". Kind of like writing on the bathroom wall, ain't it?

Lobster ravioli & Pork belly...

Up early with the neighbor's hot water faucet screaming and screeching. A slow walk to the lobby of Yellowstone Lodge for coffee and giant window view of Old Faithful. The Lodge, not to be confused with The Inn, is more modest in trappings and closer. Almost killed poor Sarah walking her to dinner. Any exertion at this elevation puts her into pursed lipped breathing at a rate of about 30. We now plan our day literally by steps. How may steps must Sarah take! Sarah bought fixin's for lunch at the Yellowstone Store. (paying way to much for way limited selections) while I gassed up. Breakfast at Old Faithful Snow Lodge. This is the lodge they use in the winter for the skiers and snowmobilers. A comfy place but they are building a huge new something between it and the geyser spoiling the view unless the new something is going to be a big fancy new snow lodge.

Our goal for the day was to get to the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone so we went there without sightseeing stops along the way.

The Yellowstone River, by the way apparently very popular with the fly fishermen, snakes thru green meadows and rolling hills till it cascades in a series of spectacular water falls carving the Canyon deep into the soft sandstone. With its abundant turn outs and parking areas it is not surprising that the Park Service has made accommodations for viewing this wonder as well.

Across the river a narrow wooden stairway cascades down the cliff face to provide a viewpoint from the north. On our side of the gorge a trail of switchbacks dropping 600 ft in 3/8 mile leads those sturdy enough or foolish enough (my category) to a platform extending out on the very brink of the lower fall. Clear smooth water suddenly changes to thundering white mist as it plummets hundreds of feet into the chasm below, disappearing into the distance between near vertical walls of crumbling rock.

Doubling back as we head for the south entrance and our route to Jackson and Driggs we stop at a few more geysers, mud pots and fumaroles. In our attempt to find Lake Yellowstone Hotel, a wrong turn stops us dead in the middle of a "critterjam".

Cars and RVs are backed up in both directions as a small herd of bison slowly amble across the road for greener pastures. These huge beasts do not seem to be at all concerned about vehicular traffic and indeed several would simply get to the middle of the road and stop as if to say, "This is my road and I'm bigger than you".

A ranger strolls down from the nearest cluster of buildings to keep the peace should it be necessary and even an ambulance pulls into the parking area to "stand by". We slowly move on passing a huge bull standing immobile in the other lane, his enormous head inches from my window.

Entering the bright yellow Yellowstone Lake Hotel we are transported back to the lost elegance of the past when cultured (and obviously monied) patrons would arrive by steamer from West Thumb across the largest lake above 7000 ft in the US. Stately white columns support a driveway and veranda. Two yellow vintage tour busses await passengers in the shade as the lake shimmers with the afternoon sun. Beyond the lobby and bell captain's desk, and through the bright sun light parlor where guests lounge on floral print and wicker chairs and couches we enter the formal appointed dining room. We are slowly led to our window table by an ancient and stooped woman in white shirt, black pants and cumberbun. We are nearing the end of lunch service and there are only a few tables occupied as patrons leisurely finish their meals. Sarah chooses Lobster Ravioli and a salad from the small plate side of the menu as I go for the bison burger. I change to pork belly when informed that it will take a while to thaw the bison. We share the enormous salad with crumbled blue cheese as we fantasize about a time when people came to this place as a destination. Not "passing through" on a whirlwind travel jag...a time for leisure and comfort. Our lunch is served by a uniformed young lady, Abigail, working at the park as she pursues a Hospitality Degree and has plans to soon climb the Middle Teton. Sarah's Lobster ravioli is perfectly al dente and bathed in a slightly pink cream sauce, garnished with a single huge red mottled perfect lobster claw. The delicate sweet buttery taste and smooth texture forces eyes closed as mind pauses to explore the subtle sensations. By contrast, my serving of pork belly is a thick square of two textures of lean meat topped by a half inch of fat cooked to an unexpected firmness. Basted with a light brown sugar glaze it is the perfect compliment to the mildly tart bed of sauerkraut upon which it rests. We eat slowly, imagining the past, as, thru the window of rippled glass, the sun drapes it's self across the tables of white linen and sparkling silverware.

Hey Booboo...

Just finished dinner in the grand dining room of Old Faithful Inn. Only reservation we could get was for 8:45. Later than I would like to eat but it did give me time to hydrate prior to dinner. I'm finding that at these higher and dryer elevations (7700 ft at Old Faithful) I'm feeling pretty puny by evening due to dehydration. Just not drinking much of the clear stuff thruout the day. Pound back a couple of quarts of water (rather than prefered cocktails) as the sun sets does bring me around.

Entered the land of Yogi and Booboo at West Village. Our plan to make the northern loop was changed due to road closure so we took a leisure drive south toward Old Faithful stopping at every turn out and side view point along the way. Saw eagles, a family of 3 moose, and several fly fishermen in the Madison River. After a side trip along the Firehole River and a view of Firehole Falls we decided to rest a while at Great Fountain Geyser. The rows of benches seemed inviting, we weren't in any hurry and the ranger kept spouting off about how spectacular this particular geyser was. After much discussion of when water first started to appear along the silica terraces and repeated consultation of watches it was decided the eruption would occur at 2:10, "giver or take 15 min." At about 2:00 our friendly little lady ranger began whispering in the ear of some of the elderly spectators where upon they moved to another bench further down the line. Presumally for a better view. Ten minutes later the show began with bubbling and steam and splashing. I got a couple of pictures then steam and water exploded 100 feet into the air and came down right where we were standing!

A dozen of us, apparently not on the ranger's warning list, literally got soaked by warm sulfur smelling water! Geyser water in Sarah's ear and my jeans drenched. And I told my sister, "Why would I need more than one pair of pants for a two day trip?" Little Miss Ranger did find it necessary to warn us to clean off all glasses and lens as the silica in the spray will etch glass. Thanks!

Unable to get a room at Old Fateful Inn we settled on a "rustic" cabin at Old Fateful Lodge next door. Our 10 x 20 foot box is serviceable with electricity and a sink with running water. More than we have at my sister's place! Toilets and showers however are a 5 min. walk thru the compound but once it gets dark my bathroom will be a lot closer! A stroll along the crescent boardwalk around Old Faithful gets you back to the Inn. Built in the early 1900's it is a monument of knotted pine beams and granite. The lobby soars over 5 stories with hints of forbidden catwalks and lofty dormers as the stone fireplace with it's 60 ft iron pendelum clock keeps it all weighted to earth and not some magical castle in the sky. After time of craned necks and awed coments, Sarah and I settled on lodge pole furniture on the second floor balcony to watch Old Faithful erupt as scheduled. Once every hour, it now blows about every 90 minutes since it's internal rhythm was changed by a bit of scysmic activity several years ago.

Dinner was their buffet with trout, chicken frichasee,, sliced buffalo, shrimp, green beans, potatoes, rice and bread pudding. The buffalo and bread pudding was good!

All the kids back in school now so most of the tourists here are old farts like us. Still crowed. I can't even imagine how crazy this place must be during full-on vacation season. I'm pretty sure I would not like to visit then!

Thoughts at the end of the road....

7:30am after a restful sleep at the Silver Spur. Dog up only once in the night to woof at boogie men. Will be back home today. And work tomorrow. Ugh! Have to admit I really really like this vacation thing...."drift with the winds, follow the sun, let your heart be your guide, act on a whim, look over the next mountain".....you get the idea. I enjoy the adventure and the novelty of whatever happens next. Meeting people. Seeing sights. Eating different foods. Not working! I could very easily get used to this lifestyle. Thirty years ago I was able to do this as a lifestyle with my travel nursing gigs. Guess I'll have to wait for retirement now!

I also enjoy writing and sharing these experiences. Those years ago, pre-computer age, I wrote letters. Often not to anyone in particular but to close friends I thought might appreciate the sharing. Traveling alone, I would sit in restaurants or bars and write. I often commented that pen and paper were always good company. Now, with the magic of the internet, I can share with everyone! Not quite as personal between me and the recipent in the past but nice to know I may now have a larger audience. Graduating from sending out bulk emails to anyone I thought would be interested, now I blog, forcing/allowing my friends/readers to be proactive if they care/desire to keep up. The disadvantage for me is I don't know who is actually reading. Like any writer I receive a certain amount of stoked ego knowing people read, or indeed care, about what I write. But on the personal side, my writing is also just for me. My thoughts, my experiences. No longer on paper, this electronic log will be my journal.

I am curious, however, who does read this. An occasional comment or email pat on the head is encouraging and always appreciated. I would love to have a visit counter attached. Any of you bloggers out there know how to do that? Of course that could prove disappointing if I discover no one actually reads my drivel.

Bad in room coffee gone. Herman out taking Sarah for a walk. Obama on Wall St. Time to pack and move on.......