On Monday morning the rain let up a little, so we walked over to our local beach - which happens to be one of the top beach spots on Oahu, Kailua Beach - for a bit of paddling in the sea. We toughed it out for an hour till the weather overcame us. Dr Mom stood in the edge of the waves in her rolled up jeans and green anorak, looking properly British. The other three pranced in and out of the waves, getting steadily wetter and wetter. When the rain started to pour again we retreated to the house to clean up.
At 11:30am, we got in the car and headed over to Honolulu, for the day's adventure: lunch at Benihana's followed by an underwater trip on the Atlantis Submarine. It turned out that we should have left a lot more time to get there. Half an hour turned into an hour in the snarly Honolulu traffic. In fact, our overall impression of Honolulu was of a fairly average looking city with rather more palm trees than usual, terrible traffic, and a lot of hotels. We didn't feel inspired to visit again.
We arrived at Benihana's with only 45 minutes before check in time at the sub; so our leisurely lunch, with chef entertainment, didn't quite come off. In the end we gobbled down our food in about 15 minutes and raced out of the door into the pouring rain. I think our jolly chef didn't quite understand why we weren't more receptive to his jokes (which he clearly thought were pretty funny).
At the pier, we took the Atlantis boat out to the sub loading area, about 10 minutes, on a fairly choppy sea. We looked for whales but didn't see any. At the sub, you climb off the boat onto the deck of the sub, then down a vertical ladder comprising about ten rungs, into the seating area. We were on the sixty-four passenger sub, which has bigger windows. Every passenger gets their own window, pretty much. The Japanese family of five next to Dr Mom began to throw up into their little white bags as soon as they were on board. It was, admittedly, rather bouncy as we waited at the surface. Hubby says he was feeling quite green at this point. Then the sub dived, eventually reaching a depth of 110 feet. We spent 45 minutes working round several artificial reefs - two sunken ships, an airplane, some concrete pyramids, etc. I have to confess to being a little disappointed by what we saw. There was a school of eagle rays that was undeniably impressive, but other than that the fish seemed a bit thin on the ground...or should that be water.... The kids were impressed though.
The Japanese family continued to throw up noisily throughout the voyage, reaching a climax as the sub resurfaced to return us to the boat. At this point, Dr Mom was unable to resist the sensory pressures any more and also had a small, but perfectly contained, barf into a little bag. The trip back to shore was uneventful. We rewarded ourselves for a job well done by having giant ice creams before going back to the car.
Guess what - it was bucketing down with rain again.
Showing posts with label attractions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label attractions. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
Oregon Caves and Applegate River
Yesterday, no Shakespeare, but we went on the cave tour, walked in the surrounding woods, and drove back through the Applegate Valley (lots of horse farms and vineyards, plus the Applegate River). Overall, the trip confirmed that Oregon has endless hills and forests. I guess this is not news.
Friday, July 16, 2010
All The World's A Stage
Hubby forgets to mention that the reason we are in Ashland is to visit the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. We flew up here on Wednesday morning - in a very small plane, about 30 people, with propellers! - with the only tension arising from Hubby not having an assigned seat when we arrived at the airport.
We are staying at the Ashland Springs Hotel on East Main Street, which is registered with the Historical Hotels of America group. It dates from 1925 and has fairly small, but perfectly adequate bedrooms. We are in a corner room on the 5th floor with a view over the main street. Breakfast is a bit motelish, but otherwise all is good.
On Wednesday evening we went to see "Twelfth Night" (7/10 for variable quality of ensemble acting and general dodginess of the story). On Thursday we saw "Henry IV part 1" (8/10 - the tavern scenes were well done, but the court scenes were a bit tea-potish). Tonight we are going to "The Merchant of Venice" and Saturday night it's "Hamlet".
Saturday, February 20, 2010
From Sand to Silver
Yesterday afternoon we went back to the sand dunes on Mesquite Flats, near Stovepipe Wells. It was a bit windy, which had obviously put people off because it was much quieter than the last time we’d visited. We walked out to the largest sand dune – according to the Park Service, over 700 feet high. Hubby and the kids walked across the top of the sand dune, a dramatic curve, while I remained on a peak below to take photos. Just like everything else in this area, the scale and colors were amazing. We spent about an hour and a half walking out and back, a distance of about two and a half miles. Going up and down the dunes, up and down, it was pretty good exercise for the old calf muscles.
Overnight it rained a bit. Not enough to make the campground significantly damp, but enough to wake up Deep Thought at 5:00am with the drops drumming on the roof of the cab. There was also a bit of additional dampness inside the tin can: Little Starlet peed in her bed for the second time on this trip. We couldn’t remedy the situation with her still asleep this time, but she is claiming that she had no recollection of us getting her up, fixing her bed, going to the toilet etc. I think the poor little thing was very tired again.
In the morning we saw another road runner scurrying over the sand in front of the RV. (This is the only photo we succeeded in taking of one.) They’re cute. We haven’t seen much other wildlife in Death Valley. A couple of little lizards, ravens at the campsite, hardly any insects (though we did see big black beetles at the sand dunes), an antelope ground squirrel, and we heard the coyotes yapping in the darkness.
We drove away from Death Valley along highway 190. At Death Valley Junction – a sad, derelict community steps away from becoming a ghost town – we turned south on highway 127.
This straight road took us through the bottom end of Death Valley and into Silurian Valley, back into the Mojave Desert. We didn’t see any Joshua trees in this part of Mojave. We did see some spectacular sand dunes in the distance at Dumont Dunes Natural Preserve. They looked even taller than the ones at Stovepipe Wells. We also passed many dry lakes.
The little town of Shoshone was in fairly good shape, with a health center, gas station, motel, café and several houses in good repair. At Baker, we turned west on interstate 15. Baker was most notable for having “the world’s largest thermometer” at the side of the road. It was a very easy drive from every perspective.
Calico Ghost Town is a few minutes from I-15. The campground at the Town is pleasantly laid out. We are in site A25, which has full hookups. This was essential as we ran out of water in the van this morning. Unfortunately it is incredibly windy. The van is rocking from side to side as the wind whistles through and up the canyons. It’s a whole new experience for us (and makes us very glad we aren’t in a tent). This will be the first evening that Hubby and I do not sit out by a campfire. It is just too darned cold – and we’re not even sure we’d be able to light a fire at all. Hubby tried parking the van to shield the fire pit, but there is simply too much wind for that strategy to work.
So here we sit. Deep Thought is writing something creative on one computer, I am blogging, Little Starlet is reading (and eating chocolate), and Hubby is in the RV shower! When he gets out, we’ll play a game.
Now to reflect on Calico Ghost Town. Calico was founded as a silver mining town in 1881. The boom years continued till the end of the 1890s when the price of silver fell dramatically and the population fell rapidly from its peak of twelve hundred (1887) to three hundred (1893) and down to only ten in 1951. During its active years, over $86 million of silver was extracted from the hills around here. The population also supported twenty-two saloons, a China Town (for washing and laundry), and a red light district. The town fell into decay until 1951 when Walter Knott, the founder of Knott’s Berry Farm near to Los Angele (a theme park precursor to Disneyland), decided to spend a bunch of money purchasing and “restoring” it. He donated the town to the County of Bernardino in 1966.
That’s the history lesson. The town today is basically a middle-grade tourist attraction. The entry fee is included in the camping charge, which was a good thing, or it might have offended Hubby’s Scottish sensibilities. The town consists of two main streets, with a short walk up to a school house, a mine, and a railway. The mine and the railway have separate charges.
The railway takes a short loop around the top of a hill, allowing a view of some derelict miners’ houses built into the rocks. (In its previous life the train hauled materials away from the mines.)
“Maggie’s Mine” is a genuine silver mine. Interestingly for those of us experienced in passing through mining exhibits in the UK, this one allows everyone to stand upright (and they didn’t insist on us wearing safety helmets, which they would have in the UK). It was fairly interesting to walk through the mine for a few minutes, though there was a minimum of interpretation – not even an arrow saying “Look, silver ore here”.
The kids wanted to pan for gold, but that exhibit was closed. We ate lunch in the Calico House Restaurant (burgers) and dessert in the Miners’ Café (ice cream). We also went into all the different shops, of which there were many, all selling the most bizarre things….like teddies with wings, cowboy statues, dream catchers labeled “Not an Indian Product”, a piggy bank dressed flamboyantly in feathers and sparkles, frilly toilet roll covers, scoop-your-own bath salts and, our absolutely favorite thing, a singing deer’s head which opened and closed its mouth and also told jokes. Honestly.
Deep Thought’s rating out of ten: five, because it was strange and it was a bit too touristy. She’d have liked it to look a bit more like a real ghost town. Little Starlet also rates it at five, because the stuff in the stores didn’t seem like it would ever have been in the town when people lived there. Hubby rates it more generously at six because all the effort at Disneyfication hadn’t completely hidden the mining town atmosphere. I’d rate it at seven, because I like the look of the rugged frontier town architecture (some of which was even real and not a 1950s pastiche).
Overnight it rained a bit. Not enough to make the campground significantly damp, but enough to wake up Deep Thought at 5:00am with the drops drumming on the roof of the cab. There was also a bit of additional dampness inside the tin can: Little Starlet peed in her bed for the second time on this trip. We couldn’t remedy the situation with her still asleep this time, but she is claiming that she had no recollection of us getting her up, fixing her bed, going to the toilet etc. I think the poor little thing was very tired again.
In the morning we saw another road runner scurrying over the sand in front of the RV. (This is the only photo we succeeded in taking of one.) They’re cute. We haven’t seen much other wildlife in Death Valley. A couple of little lizards, ravens at the campsite, hardly any insects (though we did see big black beetles at the sand dunes), an antelope ground squirrel, and we heard the coyotes yapping in the darkness.We drove away from Death Valley along highway 190. At Death Valley Junction – a sad, derelict community steps away from becoming a ghost town – we turned south on highway 127.
This straight road took us through the bottom end of Death Valley and into Silurian Valley, back into the Mojave Desert. We didn’t see any Joshua trees in this part of Mojave. We did see some spectacular sand dunes in the distance at Dumont Dunes Natural Preserve. They looked even taller than the ones at Stovepipe Wells. We also passed many dry lakes.
The little town of Shoshone was in fairly good shape, with a health center, gas station, motel, café and several houses in good repair. At Baker, we turned west on interstate 15. Baker was most notable for having “the world’s largest thermometer” at the side of the road. It was a very easy drive from every perspective.
Calico Ghost Town is a few minutes from I-15. The campground at the Town is pleasantly laid out. We are in site A25, which has full hookups. This was essential as we ran out of water in the van this morning. Unfortunately it is incredibly windy. The van is rocking from side to side as the wind whistles through and up the canyons. It’s a whole new experience for us (and makes us very glad we aren’t in a tent). This will be the first evening that Hubby and I do not sit out by a campfire. It is just too darned cold – and we’re not even sure we’d be able to light a fire at all. Hubby tried parking the van to shield the fire pit, but there is simply too much wind for that strategy to work.So here we sit. Deep Thought is writing something creative on one computer, I am blogging, Little Starlet is reading (and eating chocolate), and Hubby is in the RV shower! When he gets out, we’ll play a game.
Now to reflect on Calico Ghost Town. Calico was founded as a silver mining town in 1881. The boom years continued till the end of the 1890s when the price of silver fell dramatically and the population fell rapidly from its peak of twelve hundred (1887) to three hundred (1893) and down to only ten in 1951. During its active years, over $86 million of silver was extracted from the hills around here. The population also supported twenty-two saloons, a China Town (for washing and laundry), and a red light district. The town fell into decay until 1951 when Walter Knott, the founder of Knott’s Berry Farm near to Los Angele (a theme park precursor to Disneyland), decided to spend a bunch of money purchasing and “restoring” it. He donated the town to the County of Bernardino in 1966.
That’s the history lesson. The town today is basically a middle-grade tourist attraction. The entry fee is included in the camping charge, which was a good thing, or it might have offended Hubby’s Scottish sensibilities. The town consists of two main streets, with a short walk up to a school house, a mine, and a railway. The mine and the railway have separate charges.
The railway takes a short loop around the top of a hill, allowing a view of some derelict miners’ houses built into the rocks. (In its previous life the train hauled materials away from the mines.)
“Maggie’s Mine” is a genuine silver mine. Interestingly for those of us experienced in passing through mining exhibits in the UK, this one allows everyone to stand upright (and they didn’t insist on us wearing safety helmets, which they would have in the UK). It was fairly interesting to walk through the mine for a few minutes, though there was a minimum of interpretation – not even an arrow saying “Look, silver ore here”.
The kids wanted to pan for gold, but that exhibit was closed. We ate lunch in the Calico House Restaurant (burgers) and dessert in the Miners’ Café (ice cream). We also went into all the different shops, of which there were many, all selling the most bizarre things….like teddies with wings, cowboy statues, dream catchers labeled “Not an Indian Product”, a piggy bank dressed flamboyantly in feathers and sparkles, frilly toilet roll covers, scoop-your-own bath salts and, our absolutely favorite thing, a singing deer’s head which opened and closed its mouth and also told jokes. Honestly.
Deep Thought’s rating out of ten: five, because it was strange and it was a bit too touristy. She’d have liked it to look a bit more like a real ghost town. Little Starlet also rates it at five, because the stuff in the stores didn’t seem like it would ever have been in the town when people lived there. Hubby rates it more generously at six because all the effort at Disneyfication hadn’t completely hidden the mining town atmosphere. I’d rate it at seven, because I like the look of the rugged frontier town architecture (some of which was even real and not a 1950s pastiche).
Friday, February 19, 2010
Salt and Pupfish
This morning I woke up with a cold. I can’t quite understand how that happened.
We went out at 9:00am to the Salt Creek Interpretive Trail about half an hour up the road towards Stovepipe Wells. It’s a half mile loop on a boardwalk, around and across a salt water creek and marsh area. It is reached by another exciting mile of gravel road over which Hubby always enjoys driving the RV. The salt creek was not a knock out attraction, but it engaged the kids for an hour or so. Essentially it is the only habitat of a tiny brown endangered fish called the Pupfish, which breeds at this time of the year and then pretty much dies in the summer. Only the few that make it into the permanent pools survive. At the moment there is a lot of water, and the prickleweed is flourishing. We saw lots of fish and Deep Thought took lots of photos of them. I'm sure we'll post some of them in due course.
At the end of the boardwalk there is a trail heading over the salt flats. We walked out on that for about ten minutes before it became clear that we were going to be roasted. The salt radiates a bright glare equal to any snowdrift and it definitely felt hotter than it had on either of our morning walks in the past couple of days (despite there being a light wind today). We came back, admired the fish some more, then headed down the road to the Harmony Borax Works.
Apparently borax “harvesting” has historically been the most valuable kind of mining in Death Valley, far surpassing gold or silver. Thousands of Chinese workers were brought to Death Valley in the nineteenth century to work in the extractive industry. The Harmony Borax Works is one of the best preserved sites. It has the wagons from a Twenty Mule Train. In each of these trains, two large product wagons and a 1200 gallon water wagon were literally pulled by teams of twenty mules the 165 miles to Mojave. We looked out from the Harmony Borax Works over the white plain where the workers toiled to extract the mineral. It was hot, bleak and depressing. Imagine being the people who came here from San Francisco to do that work. It must have been grim.
This afternoon we are going back to the sand dunes at Stovepipe Wells because the kids fancy running barefoot on the sand (watch out for scorpions!) and tomorrow we head south out of Death Valley, to Calico Ghost Town.
In the absence of showers for four days, the family is becoming increasiyngly fragrant, and you should see Little Starlet's feet - !
We went out at 9:00am to the Salt Creek Interpretive Trail about half an hour up the road towards Stovepipe Wells. It’s a half mile loop on a boardwalk, around and across a salt water creek and marsh area. It is reached by another exciting mile of gravel road over which Hubby always enjoys driving the RV. The salt creek was not a knock out attraction, but it engaged the kids for an hour or so. Essentially it is the only habitat of a tiny brown endangered fish called the Pupfish, which breeds at this time of the year and then pretty much dies in the summer. Only the few that make it into the permanent pools survive. At the moment there is a lot of water, and the prickleweed is flourishing. We saw lots of fish and Deep Thought took lots of photos of them. I'm sure we'll post some of them in due course.
At the end of the boardwalk there is a trail heading over the salt flats. We walked out on that for about ten minutes before it became clear that we were going to be roasted. The salt radiates a bright glare equal to any snowdrift and it definitely felt hotter than it had on either of our morning walks in the past couple of days (despite there being a light wind today). We came back, admired the fish some more, then headed down the road to the Harmony Borax Works.
Apparently borax “harvesting” has historically been the most valuable kind of mining in Death Valley, far surpassing gold or silver. Thousands of Chinese workers were brought to Death Valley in the nineteenth century to work in the extractive industry. The Harmony Borax Works is one of the best preserved sites. It has the wagons from a Twenty Mule Train. In each of these trains, two large product wagons and a 1200 gallon water wagon were literally pulled by teams of twenty mules the 165 miles to Mojave. We looked out from the Harmony Borax Works over the white plain where the workers toiled to extract the mineral. It was hot, bleak and depressing. Imagine being the people who came here from San Francisco to do that work. It must have been grim.
This afternoon we are going back to the sand dunes at Stovepipe Wells because the kids fancy running barefoot on the sand (watch out for scorpions!) and tomorrow we head south out of Death Valley, to Calico Ghost Town.
In the absence of showers for four days, the family is becoming increasiyngly fragrant, and you should see Little Starlet's feet - !
Monday, February 15, 2010
Pismo Beach to Mojave Desert via Teletubbyland
We rose early and partook of the communal showers before anyone else was around. It was a blessing to see Little Starlet's feet change color under the water, to say nothing of the children's lovely fragrance... After getting away from Pismo at 9:30am, we made good progress north on highway 101, then east on highway 46 from Paso Robles, then highway 58. This was not the route we had imagined doing, but Hubby was not feeling up to the squiggley drive on the alternate route, so we opted for slightly longer but much straighter.
The landscape, ah, the landscape. It came at us in definite waves. First, east of Paso Robles, lots of vineyards. Large, wide fields of vines, punctuated now and again by small oil fields. (There seems to be a fair bit of oil extraction in this area.)
Following the vines came miles of soft, gentle rolling hills without any trees (though there also seemed to be very few animals, which would have been our guess for why it was treeless). At first it reminded us of Cumbria, but we soon came to realize that it most reminded us of Teletubbyland. Eh oh!
As we drove out of the hilly area into Antelope Valley, we entered a long patch of nothingness: Very flat, no animals or obvious agriculture, no towns, just the occasional house which would make the kids ask, "Why would anyone live here?" Eventually the nothingness gave way to nut orchards, mostly almonds we thought, which were just coming into bloom. In another week or so it would offer a very beautiful display.
More oilfields welcomed us into Bakersfield, and here we all found ourselves wondering why anyone would choose to live there. OK, we only saw part of the north of town, but it presented such an eloquent image of declining middle America that it would have had us emigrating back to the UK before agreeing to live there. Any place where the bill boards on the main highways are neglected is in a bad way. We stopped for lunch at Spencer's Diner, which was packed and hopping but offered only so-so food. Hubby did a spectacular piece of parking, diagonally across two spaces, without any assistance.
As we had made very speedy progress, I suggested a side trip to the Kern County Museum and Pioneer Town. I called their information line for hours etc, and we set off. After a twenty minute diversion we arrived - and it was shut for Presidents' Day. In the Bay Area, the attractions tend to open on the public holidays, including those that usually close on Mondays, so we were a bit surprised by that.
Since there was absolutely nowhere else to visit, we pushed on to our next campsite, Sierra Trails RV Park on Highway 14 just outside Mojave. There aren't many RV campgrounds in this area. I had read reviews of them all, and chose this one as the best of a bad bunch. In the event, we're quite happy with it. (Photo of our site, #19, at left.) You can hear the road noise, but the campground itself is very quiet with a mixture of visitors and long term residents. (And that presents another question: How do you end up living in an RV on a campground just outside Mojave, which is frankly in the middle of nowhere and has nothing much to offer except the desert?) 
For a mere $27.50 we have electricity and water hookups and access to a dump station if we wish. There isn't a fire pit, but Hubby has improvised with logs in the BBQ grill.
(Team G attaching the van to the hookups in photo at left.)
After arriving, we walked out behind the campground into the edge of the Mojave Desert. It is heavily populated with Joshua Trees, begging the question why you would need to go all the way to Joshua Tree National Park to see more?
Naturally Hubby took hundreds of photos, some of which he will post in due course.
The landscape, ah, the landscape. It came at us in definite waves. First, east of Paso Robles, lots of vineyards. Large, wide fields of vines, punctuated now and again by small oil fields. (There seems to be a fair bit of oil extraction in this area.)
Following the vines came miles of soft, gentle rolling hills without any trees (though there also seemed to be very few animals, which would have been our guess for why it was treeless). At first it reminded us of Cumbria, but we soon came to realize that it most reminded us of Teletubbyland. Eh oh!As we drove out of the hilly area into Antelope Valley, we entered a long patch of nothingness: Very flat, no animals or obvious agriculture, no towns, just the occasional house which would make the kids ask, "Why would anyone live here?" Eventually the nothingness gave way to nut orchards, mostly almonds we thought, which were just coming into bloom. In another week or so it would offer a very beautiful display.
More oilfields welcomed us into Bakersfield, and here we all found ourselves wondering why anyone would choose to live there. OK, we only saw part of the north of town, but it presented such an eloquent image of declining middle America that it would have had us emigrating back to the UK before agreeing to live there. Any place where the bill boards on the main highways are neglected is in a bad way. We stopped for lunch at Spencer's Diner, which was packed and hopping but offered only so-so food. Hubby did a spectacular piece of parking, diagonally across two spaces, without any assistance.
As we had made very speedy progress, I suggested a side trip to the Kern County Museum and Pioneer Town. I called their information line for hours etc, and we set off. After a twenty minute diversion we arrived - and it was shut for Presidents' Day. In the Bay Area, the attractions tend to open on the public holidays, including those that usually close on Mondays, so we were a bit surprised by that.
Since there was absolutely nowhere else to visit, we pushed on to our next campsite, Sierra Trails RV Park on Highway 14 just outside Mojave. There aren't many RV campgrounds in this area. I had read reviews of them all, and chose this one as the best of a bad bunch. In the event, we're quite happy with it. (Photo of our site, #19, at left.) You can hear the road noise, but the campground itself is very quiet with a mixture of visitors and long term residents. (And that presents another question: How do you end up living in an RV on a campground just outside Mojave, which is frankly in the middle of nowhere and has nothing much to offer except the desert?) 
For a mere $27.50 we have electricity and water hookups and access to a dump station if we wish. There isn't a fire pit, but Hubby has improvised with logs in the BBQ grill.(Team G attaching the van to the hookups in photo at left.)
After arriving, we walked out behind the campground into the edge of the Mojave Desert. It is heavily populated with Joshua Trees, begging the question why you would need to go all the way to Joshua Tree National Park to see more?
Naturally Hubby took hundreds of photos, some of which he will post in due course.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Down the Tube
We drove from Crater Lake to Lassen Volcanic National Park on Saturday.
At Old Station, where we needed to turn from 89 onto highway 44, we saw a sign for the Subway Cave. (This had also been mentioned to us by the nice lady at the drive through coffee shop in Weed, just moments away from the Pizza Factory, Ray’s Food Place, and the Shell garage: a very handy stop.) The Subway Cave is actually a lava tube that you can walk through, about 1500 feet long. You need your flashlight and jacket but no hard hat, as the roof is high. It was a welcome diversion for half an hour. We took spooky photos of each other, and admired the different lava features helpfully pointed out by the National Park Service. Another first for the Tin Can Crew.
At Old Station, where we needed to turn from 89 onto highway 44, we saw a sign for the Subway Cave. (This had also been mentioned to us by the nice lady at the drive through coffee shop in Weed, just moments away from the Pizza Factory, Ray’s Food Place, and the Shell garage: a very handy stop.) The Subway Cave is actually a lava tube that you can walk through, about 1500 feet long. You need your flashlight and jacket but no hard hat, as the roof is high. It was a welcome diversion for half an hour. We took spooky photos of each other, and admired the different lava features helpfully pointed out by the National Park Service. Another first for the Tin Can Crew.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Passing Mount Shasta
Writing this from the car park of the Pizza Factory in Weed, CA, about to join I-5 for a short way until we turn off on Highway 89 towards the Lassen Volcanic National Park.
We came down Highway 97, which was very straight. Ranching seems to be the main business around here, and the "towns" are very tiny. The landscape is flat with large volcanic mountains to all sides. We were close to Mount Shasta with its impressive glaciers and, of course, stopped to take photos. Our route took us along side the Upper Klamath Lake, which is enormous and beautiful, but the beauty is diminished by the rail-track and phone lines that go along the shore. No stopping points - Hubby was visibly irritated by being unable to stop to look further...
No further connectivity expected till Monday.
We came down Highway 97, which was very straight. Ranching seems to be the main business around here, and the "towns" are very tiny. The landscape is flat with large volcanic mountains to all sides. We were close to Mount Shasta with its impressive glaciers and, of course, stopped to take photos. Our route took us along side the Upper Klamath Lake, which is enormous and beautiful, but the beauty is diminished by the rail-track and phone lines that go along the shore. No stopping points - Hubby was visibly irritated by being unable to stop to look further...
No further connectivity expected till Monday.
Highway 62: An Official "Scenic Byway"
After Medford, Highway 62 takes you through a wasteland of RV vendors, chain fast food restaurants, places to rent cranes and boats, and many opportunities to buy rocks, boulders and plywood. It was really very horrible. The landscape is flat and dry, with the mountains in the background. It could be lovely, but I guess they have to put the electrical substations somewhere. Our overall impression of Medford and environs was of a fairly tatty, semi-industrial town with the obligatory giant lumber mill and Veteran’s Hospital. A bit like a macho Coventry with mountains.
After Shady Cove, everything changed for the better. The landscape isn’t as breathtaking as our route through northern California, but it has pleasing mountains in the background and a lot of trees. As Hubby said, “Aren’t there a lot of trees in the world….?” These ones are a variety of pines and spruces: Juniper, Ponderosa, and Lodgepole, to name just three. They are a bit scrubby looking, but then you can’t have majestic 350 feet high redwoods everywhere, it would just get boring, wouldn’t it? The land further up Highway 62 seems to be used for ranching: We saw horses and cows, and there were even some vineyards. At times the road ran high above the Rogue River, which was obviously popular with kayakers for its white water rapids.
After Prospect, we found ourselves back among the trees, as the road winds through the Rogue National Forest. At Union Creek, we took a short diversion to see the Rogue River Gorge – much tutting and sighing from the kids - and it was spectacular. Congress has determined that this should be preserved as an official “Wild Scenic Place”. I’m not sure whether the ashphalt path and the chain fences help meet that desire, but they did enable us to get close to the edge of the Gorge and have some wonderful views of the rapids and waterfalls. The Gorge was created by a combination of the collapse of lava tubes (lava from the Mount Mazama eruption about 7,000 years ago that is), and the force of the Rogue River water. Over a distance of some 500 feet, the water cascades in impressive leaps and eddies through a chasm probably no more than 25 feet across.
Once again, the kids had got out of the van with their best “This is boring” sighs, and by the end they had really enjoyed the stop. And, of course, Hubby was able to get his camera out again and take several hundred photos of the water, many of which are very good. (Got to give him his due…)
Best Things So Far
Asked Deep Thought and Little Starlet what they had liked most so far about the trip. Response:
(1) The swimming pool at the Jackson Wellsprings campground.
(2) The Shakespeare play. (Little Starlet is now sure she wants to be an actor when she grows up.)
(3) The big redwood trees at Humboldt Redwoods State Park.
Hubby says he likes being able to visit the beautiful places. I liked the big trees too.
Also asked DT and LS what they had liked least about the trip:
(1) The smell of the water at the Jackson Wellsprings campground.
(2) Worrying about bears at Humboldt Redwoods State Park.
(3) The campground at the Bothe-Napa State Park. It was a bit dusty and cramped.
(4) The bumpy and twisty roads, when the RV feels very big.
Hubby says the only thing he hasn’t liked was the smelly water. I wasn’t too sure about being in a “home away from home” at the start – it didn’t feel enough like camping – but as we’ve been able to run the AC when it’s been hot and wrap up in the warm when it’s been cold, I’ve got used to the civilization of it all.
Best things about being in an RV:
(1) Not having to walk around in the dark outside to go to the toilet in the night.
(2) It stays warm when it is very cold outside (like at night).
(3) When it rains you don’t get wet.
(4) It’s easy to go further.
(1) The swimming pool at the Jackson Wellsprings campground.
(2) The Shakespeare play. (Little Starlet is now sure she wants to be an actor when she grows up.)
(3) The big redwood trees at Humboldt Redwoods State Park.
Hubby says he likes being able to visit the beautiful places. I liked the big trees too.
Also asked DT and LS what they had liked least about the trip:
(1) The smell of the water at the Jackson Wellsprings campground.
(2) Worrying about bears at Humboldt Redwoods State Park.
(3) The campground at the Bothe-Napa State Park. It was a bit dusty and cramped.
(4) The bumpy and twisty roads, when the RV feels very big.
Hubby says the only thing he hasn’t liked was the smelly water. I wasn’t too sure about being in a “home away from home” at the start – it didn’t feel enough like camping – but as we’ve been able to run the AC when it’s been hot and wrap up in the warm when it’s been cold, I’ve got used to the civilization of it all.
Best things about being in an RV:
(1) Not having to walk around in the dark outside to go to the toilet in the night.
(2) It stays warm when it is very cold outside (like at night).
(3) When it rains you don’t get wet.
(4) It’s easy to go further.
Three Hours in the Old West
Late entry for Thursday:
We arrived in Jacksonville and lapped the town center a couple of times looking for the specially sign-posted RV parking. Eventually we took a bus parking space and hoped for the best (and it was fine).
Our aim was to start with the town museum, then do a walking tour of the town. Alas the museum didn’t open for another hour, so instead we walked up the hill to the historic cemetery. There was a lot of complaining from the small set – it was very hot – but when we got to the cemetery they found it pretty interesting. The cemetery is divided into sections: Catholic, Jewish, City, Freemasons, “Independent Order of Red Men”, and so on. Some of the gravestones commemorate the original settlers in the area: We found a sprinkling of people who had arrived (and died) in the 1850s.
Three things struck us:
(1) There were a lot of very ornate stones that must have been expensive to set, a sign of how important the memorials were to the families. We found one stone that was obviously homemade which had been set in 1930 – Little Starlet realized that this was probably because of the Depression. (So “Annie” was good for something.)
(2) There were a lot of babies and small children in the cemetery, some born and died on the same day, many age 5 and under. The kids found this sad.
(3) People had come to Jacksonville from a wide range of places, including Sweden, Switzerland, Germany, Austria, and Ireland; and from New York, Kentucky, Missouri, Pennsylvania, and Ohio. We didn’t spot anyone from Great Britain or California.
Back in town we had lunch at the “Bella Union” Italian restaurant and walked down the main street, taking a quick look at one of the town wells and many photos of the Wild West frontages. It was quite like Angels Camp on the way to Bear Valley.
We popped into the museum for 45 minutes. It was staffed by a boy and girl aged about 14, both of whom seemed very keen for us to enjoy our visit and fully appreciate their town. It was really pretty sweet. The museum itself was worth the time, with a nicely done display of pioneer materials, information about mining, life in the old town, and the local Ansel Adams, a man called Peter Britt. Jacksonville came to life as a mining camp in 1852 when gold was found. By 1855 most of the gold had gone, and the miners went too. It then turned into a logging and wool town, and also developed a fruit farming hinterland (especially pears). The railroad bypassed Jacksonville in the 1880s and the town got stuck in a time warp.
It was a nice little diversion which didn’t take us too far out of our way, and pleasantly rounded off the cultural portion of our trip.
We arrived in Jacksonville and lapped the town center a couple of times looking for the specially sign-posted RV parking. Eventually we took a bus parking space and hoped for the best (and it was fine).
Our aim was to start with the town museum, then do a walking tour of the town. Alas the museum didn’t open for another hour, so instead we walked up the hill to the historic cemetery. There was a lot of complaining from the small set – it was very hot – but when we got to the cemetery they found it pretty interesting. The cemetery is divided into sections: Catholic, Jewish, City, Freemasons, “Independent Order of Red Men”, and so on. Some of the gravestones commemorate the original settlers in the area: We found a sprinkling of people who had arrived (and died) in the 1850s.
Three things struck us:
(1) There were a lot of very ornate stones that must have been expensive to set, a sign of how important the memorials were to the families. We found one stone that was obviously homemade which had been set in 1930 – Little Starlet realized that this was probably because of the Depression. (So “Annie” was good for something.)
(2) There were a lot of babies and small children in the cemetery, some born and died on the same day, many age 5 and under. The kids found this sad.
(3) People had come to Jacksonville from a wide range of places, including Sweden, Switzerland, Germany, Austria, and Ireland; and from New York, Kentucky, Missouri, Pennsylvania, and Ohio. We didn’t spot anyone from Great Britain or California.
Back in town we had lunch at the “Bella Union” Italian restaurant and walked down the main street, taking a quick look at one of the town wells and many photos of the Wild West frontages. It was quite like Angels Camp on the way to Bear Valley.
We popped into the museum for 45 minutes. It was staffed by a boy and girl aged about 14, both of whom seemed very keen for us to enjoy our visit and fully appreciate their town. It was really pretty sweet. The museum itself was worth the time, with a nicely done display of pioneer materials, information about mining, life in the old town, and the local Ansel Adams, a man called Peter Britt. Jacksonville came to life as a mining camp in 1852 when gold was found. By 1855 most of the gold had gone, and the miners went too. It then turned into a logging and wool town, and also developed a fruit farming hinterland (especially pears). The railroad bypassed Jacksonville in the 1880s and the town got stuck in a time warp.
It was a nice little diversion which didn’t take us too far out of our way, and pleasantly rounded off the cultural portion of our trip.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Roadside Attractions
Thanks to Bill Bryson, the US is well known for its roadside attractions. So far we have decided to drive past (1) The World Famous Drive Through Tree, of which there seem to be about eight; (2) "World of Predators", just over the border in Oregon: A dusty collection of cages in a field, presumably housing some sad big cats. And (3) "Ocean World" in Crescent City, which says that is it "Fun and Interesting" and offers an opportunity to pat a shark. No giant balls of string or models of the Alps made from pistachio shells around here it seems.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Cultural Interlude in Ashland
Today we caught the number 10 bus on Highway 99 outside the campground and five minutes later found ourselves on the main street of downtown Ashland (cost a very reasonable $.50 each). After a quick snifter at Starbucks, and a trip to the box office to pick up our theater tickets, we sauntered through part of Lithia Park to the duck pond and playground. As we left the park later, we discovered that we'd hardly discovered any of it - at 93 acres, it rivals Golden Gate Park and was, in fact, landscaped by the same man, John McLaren. (See, this blog is educational as well as entertaining...!)
We pottered along East Main Street, popping into a couple of art galleries and mystic goods stores. Little Starlet bought more rocks, while Deep Thought bought a pink dragon emerging from an egg. The store keeper of "Tibetan Friends" (Ashland has a fair number of Tibetan-themed stores) showed us how the dragon bowl worked - we had mistaken it for a water dish for his dog, and he wanted to set us right. Dampening the palms of his hands, he rubbed the handles of the bowl till the metal vibrated with weird shrieking sounds, and the water jumped in little jets. The kids declined to have a go.
We walked down to the old railroad district of Ashland, which a guidebook assured us was an artists' area, and could find nothing more exciting than Ace Hardware. But the walk along the side streets allowed us to see many lovely little Victorian houses. It reminded me a bit of Los Gatos, with more services for your chakra. It is a very picturesque town. Cheap too - there were a number of very pretty houses for sale with 4+ beds, some with land, at $800k or less. Hubby's eye was caught by a Tuscan estate (clearly it had taken a wrong turning at the cross roads in Milan) on offer for $3.5 million that would definitely have been $12m or more in Atherton or Woodside.
Anyway.
We ate lunch at the Larks Restaurant next to the Ashland Springs Hotel. That looks like it might be a nice place to stay for an adult only visit to the town. Larks provided us with tasty fish and chips, a steelhead fish salad, and charcuterie plate for lunch. Yum.
The object of the day was to go to see "All's Well That Ends Well" at the New Theater, one of the Shakespeare Festival's productions. We had been facing this with some trepidation, wondering what the kids would make of it. Turned out that they enjoyed the experience. We debriefed the kids at intermission, getting them to tell the story back to us, and they were separately able to explain exactly what was going on and who was who (and why). We were impressed, especially with Little Starlet's ability to judge what was happening when two scenes were essentially playing at the same time (e.g. when Helena is in Rosillion worrying about what is happening to Bertram at the war, while Bertram is talking to his fellow soldiers at their camp in Florence). The production values were high, the performances were good, and the theater was excellent - clear sight lines everywhere. It was a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon.
We pottered along East Main Street, popping into a couple of art galleries and mystic goods stores. Little Starlet bought more rocks, while Deep Thought bought a pink dragon emerging from an egg. The store keeper of "Tibetan Friends" (Ashland has a fair number of Tibetan-themed stores) showed us how the dragon bowl worked - we had mistaken it for a water dish for his dog, and he wanted to set us right. Dampening the palms of his hands, he rubbed the handles of the bowl till the metal vibrated with weird shrieking sounds, and the water jumped in little jets. The kids declined to have a go.
We walked down to the old railroad district of Ashland, which a guidebook assured us was an artists' area, and could find nothing more exciting than Ace Hardware. But the walk along the side streets allowed us to see many lovely little Victorian houses. It reminded me a bit of Los Gatos, with more services for your chakra. It is a very picturesque town. Cheap too - there were a number of very pretty houses for sale with 4+ beds, some with land, at $800k or less. Hubby's eye was caught by a Tuscan estate (clearly it had taken a wrong turning at the cross roads in Milan) on offer for $3.5 million that would definitely have been $12m or more in Atherton or Woodside.
Anyway.
We ate lunch at the Larks Restaurant next to the Ashland Springs Hotel. That looks like it might be a nice place to stay for an adult only visit to the town. Larks provided us with tasty fish and chips, a steelhead fish salad, and charcuterie plate for lunch. Yum.
The object of the day was to go to see "All's Well That Ends Well" at the New Theater, one of the Shakespeare Festival's productions. We had been facing this with some trepidation, wondering what the kids would make of it. Turned out that they enjoyed the experience. We debriefed the kids at intermission, getting them to tell the story back to us, and they were separately able to explain exactly what was going on and who was who (and why). We were impressed, especially with Little Starlet's ability to judge what was happening when two scenes were essentially playing at the same time (e.g. when Helena is in Rosillion worrying about what is happening to Bertram at the war, while Bertram is talking to his fellow soldiers at their camp in Florence). The production values were high, the performances were good, and the theater was excellent - clear sight lines everywhere. It was a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Ursine Pleasures
Eureka was a curious mix of big box stores and run down Mom and Pop operations, at once bustling and depressed. It was clearly the hub of the local area with plenty of people about and almost congested with cars (but only almost). We had planned to stop at one of the State Beaches along the coast just north of Eureka, possibly around Trinidad, but the coastal fog was still rolling in from the ocean at 10:30am, so we decided to give it a miss and press on. The freeway at this point is a twisty road with one lane in each direction, and we were delayed a couple of times by road works. (101 is getting a lot of widening and resurfacing in this northern area – given how little traffic we have seen, we have to question whether this is really the best use of our tax dollars!)
Along the redwood coast, the main industry is clearly carving. Of course there is some logging to provide the wood, and the enormous piles of planks here and there betray the existence of a couple of lumber mills, but most people are involved in the business of turning out models of bears made from redwood logs. The town of Orick seems to consist solely of purveyors of fine statues of bears, hawks, bears, Native Americans in feather head dresses, and bears; plus windmills in a variety of sizes. The good people of Orick can also provide a selection of redwood clocks. I guess even wood carvers need to know the time. I wonder if any of them have ever seen a real bear?
Along the redwood coast, the main industry is clearly carving. Of course there is some logging to provide the wood, and the enormous piles of planks here and there betray the existence of a couple of lumber mills, but most people are involved in the business of turning out models of bears made from redwood logs. The town of Orick seems to consist solely of purveyors of fine statues of bears, hawks, bears, Native Americans in feather head dresses, and bears; plus windmills in a variety of sizes. The good people of Orick can also provide a selection of redwood clocks. I guess even wood carvers need to know the time. I wonder if any of them have ever seen a real bear?
In the Land of the Giants
And here’s our blog entry for Monday August 24….
The day started bright and chilly with the RV windows fogged with condensation and Little Starlet climbing into our bed complaining of cold toes. We spent 50c each on a shower in the campground facilities and it was money well spent (especially for Little Starlet’s feet).
Today was a hiking day. Over the course of five hours we walked a mile of the Bull Creek Flats Trail, then across the creek onto Mattole Road, up the Addie Johnson Trail (and back, as that isn’t a loop), and returned to Albee Creek campground via the Homestead Trail. Our route took us through silent groves of old growth redwood trees, where there were few birds or tourists to interrupt the solitude. We practically had the place to ourselves. Unfortunately, Little Starlet would not stop yakking, which really spoiled the almost creepy stillness of the forest; so Deep Thought and I pressed on ahead, leaving her with Hubby and his new camera to take many, many, many photos of tall trees.
Most overused sentence of the day: “Look, there’s a big tree.” It was one of those places that made you feel privileged to be there. There’s something about a tree that is so straight and tall that you can hardly see where the canopy begins that makes you feel insignificant. Some of these trees are 50+ feet in circumference, and 350+ feet tall. Some are thought to be well over 1,000 years old. It’s strange to think of a living thing that was already growing when the Vikings were looting and pillaging our Anglo-Saxon ancestors.
We were perhaps even more impressed by some of the fallen trees, many of which were real giants in their prime. When the trees fall, they pull up their root balls. They seem comparatively small for such large plants, but leave large holes in the ground, and tower above us like great tufts of ossified Medusa hair. Deep Thought was impressed from the start, and even Little Starlet stopped her chatting to focus on the incredible things around us.
Our walk up Addie Johnson Trail was a diversion, aiming to give us a bit more exercise. We climbed to the top of a steepish hill – Little Starlet shamelessly got her Dad to carry her part of the way on his back, while Deep Thought practically sprinted up in a display of Mom-shaming fitness – to arrive at a view and the grave of Addie Johnson. When she died in 1880 at age 27, she was the first white woman to do so in the area. We didn’t learn anything else about her, but an information board close to the Big Tree Area told us that pioneer homesteading began in this area in 1870. It’s amazing to think of European settlers coming to farm this land as recently as that.
By the time we got back to the campground, we were all quite exhausted and had a collection of over 200 photos of redwood trees between us. We finished the day with board games by the fire and some star-gazing. It’s been a perfect visit to a beautiful area. We would thoroughly recommend it.
The day started bright and chilly with the RV windows fogged with condensation and Little Starlet climbing into our bed complaining of cold toes. We spent 50c each on a shower in the campground facilities and it was money well spent (especially for Little Starlet’s feet).
Today was a hiking day. Over the course of five hours we walked a mile of the Bull Creek Flats Trail, then across the creek onto Mattole Road, up the Addie Johnson Trail (and back, as that isn’t a loop), and returned to Albee Creek campground via the Homestead Trail. Our route took us through silent groves of old growth redwood trees, where there were few birds or tourists to interrupt the solitude. We practically had the place to ourselves. Unfortunately, Little Starlet would not stop yakking, which really spoiled the almost creepy stillness of the forest; so Deep Thought and I pressed on ahead, leaving her with Hubby and his new camera to take many, many, many photos of tall trees.
Most overused sentence of the day: “Look, there’s a big tree.” It was one of those places that made you feel privileged to be there. There’s something about a tree that is so straight and tall that you can hardly see where the canopy begins that makes you feel insignificant. Some of these trees are 50+ feet in circumference, and 350+ feet tall. Some are thought to be well over 1,000 years old. It’s strange to think of a living thing that was already growing when the Vikings were looting and pillaging our Anglo-Saxon ancestors.
We were perhaps even more impressed by some of the fallen trees, many of which were real giants in their prime. When the trees fall, they pull up their root balls. They seem comparatively small for such large plants, but leave large holes in the ground, and tower above us like great tufts of ossified Medusa hair. Deep Thought was impressed from the start, and even Little Starlet stopped her chatting to focus on the incredible things around us.
Our walk up Addie Johnson Trail was a diversion, aiming to give us a bit more exercise. We climbed to the top of a steepish hill – Little Starlet shamelessly got her Dad to carry her part of the way on his back, while Deep Thought practically sprinted up in a display of Mom-shaming fitness – to arrive at a view and the grave of Addie Johnson. When she died in 1880 at age 27, she was the first white woman to do so in the area. We didn’t learn anything else about her, but an information board close to the Big Tree Area told us that pioneer homesteading began in this area in 1870. It’s amazing to think of European settlers coming to farm this land as recently as that.
By the time we got back to the campground, we were all quite exhausted and had a collection of over 200 photos of redwood trees between us. We finished the day with board games by the fire and some star-gazing. It’s been a perfect visit to a beautiful area. We would thoroughly recommend it.
Into the Land of Trees
We are getting connectivity so infrequently that you’ll have to put up with long, late entries. Here’s the report for Sunday, August 23….
North of Ukiah we chugged through some road works, then it was onwards along 101 to the redwood coast. The traffic has been very light since we got out of the Bay Area. It is only since Ukiah that we’ve really started to notice our fellow RVers (and the RV size seems to be increasing too, must be the clean air helping them to grow). Some of the roads were a bit too twisty for Little Starlet’s taste, but it was all very picturesque.
The vineyards continued into Sonoma. We stopped for a few photos at the side of the road in Alexander. Little Starlet inspected a Merlot vine and asked “Are these blueberries?” We rolled through a bunch of little towns including Legget, Willets, Laytonville, Garberville, Weott, Mercer, and Myer Flats on the way to the Humboldt Redwoods State Park. None of them seemed particularly large or remarkable. Hubby refused to be diverted by a side trip to the “Drive Through Tree” in Leggett.
A couple of times we drove past tiny beat-up middle and high schools, which made the kids go “whoa” in appreciation of what it might be like growing up in these kinds of rural outposts. (It was good to know that they did occasionally look out of the window. Much of the time they were glued to the DVD player – we could tell because they were singing along to the “Annie” soundtrack.)
At Willets, we felt that we’d entered logging country. That was roughly the point where the vineyards gave way to the redwoods. The road follows the Russian River, and then the Eel River, some of which seems little more than dry river bed. All the tributaries seem to be dry, with some pretty dramatic rocky beds and craggy hillsides. We passed several amazingly big piles of logs too. Some of the small towns up here have a “wild west” feel, with wooden store fronts complete with hitching posts. We thought Geyserville was a particularly pretty example (which also had an interesting mix of artsy-crafty stores, Victorian bed and breakfasts, and fancy hotels).
We came off 101 at Phillipsville to follow the Avenue of the Giants into the State Park. They aren’t kidding either: There are some truly giant redwoods trees along this route. We stopped to admire one that must have been 25 feet in circumference, and another fallen tree with an exposed root system that dwarfed Hubby. In fact we stopped so often to admire trees and take photos that the kids started to complain we’d never arrive. So Hubby reined himself in, and we pressed on to the campground.
The last five miles to Albee Creek were along a stunningly bumpy road, so narrow in places that the RV only just went through (Deep Thought likened it to the Knight Bus breathing in to squeeze in between the London buses in HP3); and so uneven that at one point the food cupboard burst open, showering the kids with bagels and cheese crackers.
The campsite is really pretty, shaded by second growth redwoods, with a meadow leading down to a creek. We’re looking forward to a hike tomorrow back towards the Avenue of the Giants.
Notable moments of the day:
1) The Avenue of the Giants – a “must see” if you are in this area - something that, for once, merits the word “awesome”.
2) Following a deer through a field on the edge of the campsite: Amazingly, the deer had appeared even though Little Starlet was entertaining us with a very loud rendition of “The Sun’ll Come Out Tomorrow”.
3) Seeing a frog jump into the creek, watching huge water boatmen on the water’s surface, spotting a red-headed vulture sitting in a dead tree, and picking up a stone that might contain a fern fossil.
4) Deep Thought’s second birthday cake in one weekend – because today was actually her birthday. Double digits!
5) The kids declaring that McDonalds was only just acceptable as a lunch place, and they’d really prefer to go to a proper restaurant. Progress!
6) Hubby refusing to let me stop at the Starbucks in Ukiah. He says he’s making me go cold turkey. What a meanie.
7) Little Starlet panicking at bedtime, fearing that a bear was going to come into the RV. She’d been worrying about a displayed photo of a bear in the campground taken in June, poor little thing. We had to lock the kids in so that they’d feel safe while we drank our tea by the fire.
North of Ukiah we chugged through some road works, then it was onwards along 101 to the redwood coast. The traffic has been very light since we got out of the Bay Area. It is only since Ukiah that we’ve really started to notice our fellow RVers (and the RV size seems to be increasing too, must be the clean air helping them to grow). Some of the roads were a bit too twisty for Little Starlet’s taste, but it was all very picturesque.
The vineyards continued into Sonoma. We stopped for a few photos at the side of the road in Alexander. Little Starlet inspected a Merlot vine and asked “Are these blueberries?” We rolled through a bunch of little towns including Legget, Willets, Laytonville, Garberville, Weott, Mercer, and Myer Flats on the way to the Humboldt Redwoods State Park. None of them seemed particularly large or remarkable. Hubby refused to be diverted by a side trip to the “Drive Through Tree” in Leggett.
A couple of times we drove past tiny beat-up middle and high schools, which made the kids go “whoa” in appreciation of what it might be like growing up in these kinds of rural outposts. (It was good to know that they did occasionally look out of the window. Much of the time they were glued to the DVD player – we could tell because they were singing along to the “Annie” soundtrack.)
At Willets, we felt that we’d entered logging country. That was roughly the point where the vineyards gave way to the redwoods. The road follows the Russian River, and then the Eel River, some of which seems little more than dry river bed. All the tributaries seem to be dry, with some pretty dramatic rocky beds and craggy hillsides. We passed several amazingly big piles of logs too. Some of the small towns up here have a “wild west” feel, with wooden store fronts complete with hitching posts. We thought Geyserville was a particularly pretty example (which also had an interesting mix of artsy-crafty stores, Victorian bed and breakfasts, and fancy hotels).
We came off 101 at Phillipsville to follow the Avenue of the Giants into the State Park. They aren’t kidding either: There are some truly giant redwoods trees along this route. We stopped to admire one that must have been 25 feet in circumference, and another fallen tree with an exposed root system that dwarfed Hubby. In fact we stopped so often to admire trees and take photos that the kids started to complain we’d never arrive. So Hubby reined himself in, and we pressed on to the campground.
The last five miles to Albee Creek were along a stunningly bumpy road, so narrow in places that the RV only just went through (Deep Thought likened it to the Knight Bus breathing in to squeeze in between the London buses in HP3); and so uneven that at one point the food cupboard burst open, showering the kids with bagels and cheese crackers.
The campsite is really pretty, shaded by second growth redwoods, with a meadow leading down to a creek. We’re looking forward to a hike tomorrow back towards the Avenue of the Giants.
Notable moments of the day:
1) The Avenue of the Giants – a “must see” if you are in this area - something that, for once, merits the word “awesome”.
2) Following a deer through a field on the edge of the campsite: Amazingly, the deer had appeared even though Little Starlet was entertaining us with a very loud rendition of “The Sun’ll Come Out Tomorrow”.
3) Seeing a frog jump into the creek, watching huge water boatmen on the water’s surface, spotting a red-headed vulture sitting in a dead tree, and picking up a stone that might contain a fern fossil.
4) Deep Thought’s second birthday cake in one weekend – because today was actually her birthday. Double digits!
5) The kids declaring that McDonalds was only just acceptable as a lunch place, and they’d really prefer to go to a proper restaurant. Progress!
6) Hubby refusing to let me stop at the Starbucks in Ukiah. He says he’s making me go cold turkey. What a meanie.
7) Little Starlet panicking at bedtime, fearing that a bear was going to come into the RV. She’d been worrying about a displayed photo of a bear in the campground taken in June, poor little thing. We had to lock the kids in so that they’d feel safe while we drank our tea by the fire.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
24 Hours in Calistoga
We're in Ukiah, and this is our first connectivity since setting off from home, so here is my blog post for yesterday...
We finally got away from the house at 10:10am, though not for long. A quick trip around the block and we were back, picking up the bag we’d forgotten. Then we were off in earnest, over the Dumbarton Bridge and up I-880 to Oakland, Berkeley, and beyond. The traffic was heavy, but Hubby did a splendid job of steering Big Bertha. Her acceleration is non-existent, and he says the steering is “casual”, but we mostly stayed in one lane, and we didn’t hit anything – not even close really.
After initial pleas to be allowed to watch a DVD – if they watch a movie for the 2 hour journey, how are they going to cope on the 6 hour one? - the kids settled down in fairly good humor to look out the window and sing all the snatches of Beatles songs that they knew. After forty minutes, they plugged themselves into the iPod, and that was the last we heard of them till lunch, which we ate at a Marie Callender. (We love chain restaurants: The law recently changed so they now have to show nutritional info for their food, which means we can find out how many carbohydrates Deep Thought will be eating, and also tremble at the fact that my chicken pot pie had 1370 calories in it, whilst Hubby’s burger gloried in 1850. Didn’t stop us eating them though.)
After lunch, Little Starlet decided to entertain us with a song of her own devising about how Santa Claus met the Green Cheese People, a rhyming ditty spontaneously composed in honor of St Agur blue cheese in which the word “peas” appeared quite frequently.
It was obviously time to arrive at the Old Faithful Geyser of California in Calistoga. We dutifully paid our $9 adults and $2 children. (Having read online reviews in advance, I had thriftily printed out the $1 off voucher from their website so it would feel better value.) We watched the geyser for about half an hour. It must have erupted about a dozen times, including the advertised 60 feet high, 3 minute spectacular. Pretty impressive.
We arrived at the Napa State Park at 3:50pm. Ours is site 22, a partial shade RV site surrounded by scrubby chapperal, California oaks, and madrone trees. Very dusty, but okay. We finished off Deep Thought’s birthday cake, then Hubby and the kids went off on their bikes to the campsite swimming pool to cool down. I don’t have a bike, so I was left behind. Dinner was pre-made chili and more birthday cake. Hubby and I ended the day with The Economist, tea and crisps next to a fire.
Notable moments of the day:
1) Little Starlet wandering round the parking lot at Marie Callenders looking for the restroom because she had misinterpreted the instruction to “head for the entrance and turn left.” (Not *through* the entrance, you nitwit.)
2) The town of St Helena, very pretty and quaint, with white fire trucks and a Robert Louis Stevenson museum, which we didn’t visit.
3) Making tea using my tiny new kettle and discovering that Hubby had only packed the giant camping mugs.
4) Little Starlet touching a gecko that was sunning itself on the picnic table.
5) Deep Thought wrestling with Hubby’s new camera, a gadget which is obviously going to become a feature of the trip.
We finally got away from the house at 10:10am, though not for long. A quick trip around the block and we were back, picking up the bag we’d forgotten. Then we were off in earnest, over the Dumbarton Bridge and up I-880 to Oakland, Berkeley, and beyond. The traffic was heavy, but Hubby did a splendid job of steering Big Bertha. Her acceleration is non-existent, and he says the steering is “casual”, but we mostly stayed in one lane, and we didn’t hit anything – not even close really.
After initial pleas to be allowed to watch a DVD – if they watch a movie for the 2 hour journey, how are they going to cope on the 6 hour one? - the kids settled down in fairly good humor to look out the window and sing all the snatches of Beatles songs that they knew. After forty minutes, they plugged themselves into the iPod, and that was the last we heard of them till lunch, which we ate at a Marie Callender. (We love chain restaurants: The law recently changed so they now have to show nutritional info for their food, which means we can find out how many carbohydrates Deep Thought will be eating, and also tremble at the fact that my chicken pot pie had 1370 calories in it, whilst Hubby’s burger gloried in 1850. Didn’t stop us eating them though.)
After lunch, Little Starlet decided to entertain us with a song of her own devising about how Santa Claus met the Green Cheese People, a rhyming ditty spontaneously composed in honor of St Agur blue cheese in which the word “peas” appeared quite frequently.
It was obviously time to arrive at the Old Faithful Geyser of California in Calistoga. We dutifully paid our $9 adults and $2 children. (Having read online reviews in advance, I had thriftily printed out the $1 off voucher from their website so it would feel better value.) We watched the geyser for about half an hour. It must have erupted about a dozen times, including the advertised 60 feet high, 3 minute spectacular. Pretty impressive.
We arrived at the Napa State Park at 3:50pm. Ours is site 22, a partial shade RV site surrounded by scrubby chapperal, California oaks, and madrone trees. Very dusty, but okay. We finished off Deep Thought’s birthday cake, then Hubby and the kids went off on their bikes to the campsite swimming pool to cool down. I don’t have a bike, so I was left behind. Dinner was pre-made chili and more birthday cake. Hubby and I ended the day with The Economist, tea and crisps next to a fire.
Notable moments of the day:
1) Little Starlet wandering round the parking lot at Marie Callenders looking for the restroom because she had misinterpreted the instruction to “head for the entrance and turn left.” (Not *through* the entrance, you nitwit.)
2) The town of St Helena, very pretty and quaint, with white fire trucks and a Robert Louis Stevenson museum, which we didn’t visit.
3) Making tea using my tiny new kettle and discovering that Hubby had only packed the giant camping mugs.
4) Little Starlet touching a gecko that was sunning itself on the picnic table.
5) Deep Thought wrestling with Hubby’s new camera, a gadget which is obviously going to become a feature of the trip.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Feeling Petrified?
We're heading to Calistoga on Saturday. Our first dilemma is whether to visit the Petrified Forest or the Old Faithful Geyser, or whether to give them both a miss and go for a walk instead. The problem is that we are likely to arrive in the Calistoga area several hours before we can check into the Bothe-Napa State Park. So we need to do something, and lunch at Denny's is not high on Hubby's list of wannados.
We have friends who've seen Old Faithful and describe it as "interesting but not life changing." The online reviews of both are dire, mostly along the lines of "They charged me $10 to see a pile of logs" and "They charged me $10 to pat a goat and see a not-very-impressive squirt of water after a 20 minute wait." So, as you can see, we are torn. That's California for you, so many wonderful choices.
We have friends who've seen Old Faithful and describe it as "interesting but not life changing." The online reviews of both are dire, mostly along the lines of "They charged me $10 to see a pile of logs" and "They charged me $10 to pat a goat and see a not-very-impressive squirt of water after a 20 minute wait." So, as you can see, we are torn. That's California for you, so many wonderful choices.
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