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Thursday, August 30, 2012

Inland Cat


When I (Giovannina) graduated from College my father gave me one of his prized Inland Cats (a sailboat designed by Norm Bell and John Larimore in the mid-1950s).  There were only about 300 of these boats made in Indiana and mine is #205.  My dad was a collector of Inland cats and a friend of Mr. Federspiel  who worked with Norm and John to cast the old Ricky Dingy model and create the first molds for the Inland Cat hull. Mr Federspiel lived across the street from us at our summer cottage on Clear Lake, Indiana where I learned to sail on my grandfather's boat, #154.


There are not many Inland Cats left but the largest concentration (about 20) are found at lake George, about 15 minutes from our cottage and where Norm Bell lives and produced the boats. Lake George holds an annual Inland Cat regatta which draws about 50 boats from the area and which my father and I have raced in a few times. Anyway, after graduating college I towed my boat out to Seattle years ago and have loved sailing it on Puget Sound and in the many lakes around the area.  Maybe one day I will tow it back to the annual Lake George Regatta.



Sadly about three years ago the trailer on the my boat broke and so it sat in my backyard growing algae on the deck and grass in the cracks. As I remodeled the house - and started dating Woody - I didn't have time to spend on it. But last year my dad, my sister and her husband all worked together to fix the trailer and scrub down the boat for our wedding.  It was one of the best presents we got and although we didn't get it up to Orcas Island or even get it in the water before we left on sabbatical, we kept thinking of it and finally got it out on the water. We had a spectacular sunny (and windy) day sailing on Lake Washington and testing out our rusty sailing skills on #205.







Sunday, August 26, 2012

New Adventures

Seattle welcomed us home on July 8th once again and this time we got to move back in to our house.  Our renters had taken great care of the place including Axl, our cat, during the past six months making it an exciting and stress free transition back into the house.  Both feeling a bit clucky (a word we learned in Australia meaning "nesting") we first unpacked the kitchen and bathroom, and all the modern conveniences we had not had for quite a while. Next we tackled the yard, which was beautiful but very over grown and filled three yard waist containers with weeds and cuttings.
Not wanting to get to sucked in to the home bound life yet, Woody suggested we should ride our bikes to our friends' wedding the weekend of July 28th.  Woody has always wanted to do a bike tour and this was his way of us starting out small - Although 130 miles didn't feel small to me ;-)
   
We left home at 10:30am on Friday July 27 and headed north, our destination and camp for the night the Langley Fair Grounds on Whidbey Island - 47 miles and a ferry ride away from home. We had all of our camping gear, cloths and food packed on the back of our bikes inside of panniers and dry bags that our good friends Matt H. and Matt D. had lent us for the trip. We stopped in Ballard for a snack around 1 pm and then again between a 7-11 and an Arco gas station somewhere along the Inter-Urban Bike Trail for lunch before catching the Mukilteo Ferry. 

  
We arrived at Camp at 7:00pm that night exhausted.

 
Saturday we woke up late, packed up and went for a short ride to stretch the legs and transport our stuff to a friend's house (actually our friend, Ba, was house-sitting and he said we could stay with him) where we would take a shower and get dressed before the wedding.  On the way, I started hearing a clunking noise in my front wheel which we couldn't diagnose so we stopped at a bike shop that happened to be on the way. The mechanic opened up the wheel and found several chipped and broken bearings. It was so bad I had to buy a new wheel, but it was worth it.  He also gave it a tune up helping me to change gears and was a super nice guy if you are ever biking on Whidbey stop in at Half Link Bikes shop on Bayview road.

The wedding that afternoon was beautiful, it was sunny and warm and set in the woods with lots of great music.  Rachel, the bride, and Ken, the groom, were both beaming, faces reddened from that morning's pre-nuptual kayak in Langley Harbor. We met some cool new friends, danced the night away and then crashed with Ba while watching the late-night Olympics broadcast.

 


Sunday Ba made us an amazing breakfast as we watched the Olympics. Cycling was on and pumped us up for the day. We left Langley and headed north for the Keystone - Port Townsen ferry, crossed on the ferry and then headed south across the hood canal bridge to the Kitsap peninsula.  We camped that night at Kitsap Memorial state park - 55 miles from Langley - my longest day of bicycling ever (loaded with gear.)



My knee started hurting a bit that night and the next morning it was still bugging me so we shortened our trip on the way home by riding more ferries - I liked that and we still rode 30 miles.

Arriving at home we were stinky and tiered but happy to have finished our first ever bike tour! 

















Saturday, July 21, 2012

A Rogue Life


After soaking and relaxing along the Umpqua, we headed down to another of Oregon's fabled rivers, the Rogue.  Located in the heart of the Siskiyou Mountains, the Wild Rogue Wilderness area was established in 1987 to protect an important section of the Rogue River and its surrounding watershed. But folks have been visiting the Rogue long before then. Native Americans used the area (mostly in the summertime) for the last 10,000 years or so, picking berries on the dry canyon slopes and fishing for salmon and steelhead in the river's deep, cold pools. Then around 1850, white people discovered gold in the hills along the river and a flood of newcomers entered the area in search of glittering profits. They kicked out the locals, and with the help of high-powered hoses, excavated entire hillsides, sluicing the remains into bins, mixing the mud and rock with mercury to extract the "good stuff", and then headed back East with their fortunes, leaving future generations to clean up the mess. Not surprisingly, most left with little more than the debt from all their equipment and memories of dark, frigid winters and sun blistered summers.

This is the cabin of Zane Grey.

The Rogue River became popular in the 1920s thanks to the work of American author Zane Grey, who built a small cabin on the banks of the Rogue so he could write in peace and fish when he wanted (he was a champion fisherman.) One of his novels, Rogue River Feud, was published posthumously in 1948 and depicts hair-raising adventure and intrigue along the river, typical of Grey's Westerns. Ironically, Grey left his cabin on the Rogue in 1935 and moved north to the Umpqua River, because he felt the Rogue was becoming too popular, in part because of the attention his presence had brought to it.

  
We arrived on the Rogue on June 25th and camped out at the Griffin Park CG along the banks of the river. We watched osprey and eagle hunt fish and nighthawks cruise for insects no more than a few feet above the water. The next day, June 26th, was Giovannina's birthday. As a treat, I signed us up for some horseback riding. Giovannina grew up with horses, but hadn't been on one in years. I have never been around horses and had no idea what I had gotten myself into. But our guide, Mike, was very patient and so were the horses. Mike took the lead on Beau, while I was on Ace and Giovannina got to ride Kucina. I never thought such big animals could be so docile1 Mostly, I had to pull Ace's head up to keep him from eating too much grass. The six of us rode through tall stands of sugar pine, growing 150' or more, and strolled through an old meadow, the remnants of an abandoned homestead. We almost caught sight of a herd of elk, but they disappeared before we could spy them. It was a great way to spend an afternoon and I think Giovannina enjoyed her equine birthday present.





That night we had dinner at Morrisons Lodge on the Rogue. We chose Morrisons because our friend James Sampsel works as a fishing and rafting guide for them. We met James at the Cajon del Azul trailhead in El Bolson, Argentina back in February. He had said to drop him a line if we were ever passing through Oregon, so we took him up on it. Great guy and great host. He set us up with Mike for the horseback riding, gave us a place to crash and drove us to the trailhead to begin our hike of the Rogue River. In addition to being a rafting and fishing guide, James is also an artist. You can check out his work at http://james-sampsel.com/.


 


We began hiking the Rogue River trail on June 27th. By 10 am the sun was already hot and the river's waters were looking a lot more appealing than the poison oak infested trail. We envied the rafters, floating lazily downstream, their boats carrying hundreds - seriosly HUNDREDS - of pounds of gear, while we hoisted our packs to begin the 40 mile trek from Grave Creek to Ilahee. We planned to spend four days hiking the river, but gave ourselves an extra day just in case.





Despite the ubiquitous poison oak, which sometimes filled the trail, the hike was wonderful. We worked our way along the cliffs, which gave views down into the river while also offering vistas of the surrounding Siskiyou mountains. Every few miles we would cross tributaries trickling there way to the Rogue. These smaller, quieter streams often had campgrounds, waterfalls and great swimming holes. The trees along the trail were exquisite. Seriously. Unlike the Cascades, the Siskiyous have a great mix of both wet and drought-tolerant species, so not only did we get plenty of Douglas Firs and Western Hemlocks, but also large, majestic Madrones, their red-orange trunks twisting above the cliffs and whole groves of Live Oaks, stately trees with kingly crowns and moss-lined trunks that left dappled shadows across the trail.
  
The first day was the only hot one of our journey. After that, the weather cooled, which was actually much nicer for hiking. We planned to hike about 10 miles a day, but the rolling trail without any big climbs combined with the stunning scenery invigorated our legs and we did 14 miles the first day. This may have been a mistake, however, as Giovannina had a large blister and half way through the trip she took to wearing my shoes as an alternative to rubbing the same spot - I hiked in my sandles - even though they're five sizes too big.
 Ultimate  The musicians (Glen, Jason, Ron and Woody)

Our second night, we camped at the Rogue River Ranch, an old homesteader's property now run by the U.S. Forest Service. We set our tent on the edge of a large field, downhill from the restored houses, tack shop and meeting hall. Below the field a bluff led to the river where two large groups of rafters were camping for the night. One of the groups invited us to play ultimate with them in the field, and even though my legs were sore from the day's 10 mile hike, I couldn't resist the opportunity. It was a blast. Later that evening, the same group invited us down for some music. They had brought a couple guitars  and even a fiddle with them - those rafts really can take about anything - so I sat with a couple of the guys and strummed out tunes in the falling darkness. The other group of rafters came over to enjoy the show and requested a few songs. The guitars and fiddle sounded great together and the roaring of the river behind us did its job to cover up the broken notes of my singing. A free concert in the wilderness. Not a bad way to spend an evening.
The next day we met up with the rafters again - we were taking a lunch break and they pulled up at our same spot.  After reminiscing about the night before we talked some more and found out that they knew Roger Ogren (a co-worker of Giovanninas at the Aquarium) Roger has even rafted the Rogue with them years ago and they all said to say hi. Hi Roger from your old roomate Glen and gang.



Our last night on the Rogue was at Flora Dell, a beautiful little rock outcrop right on the river. We set up camp and bathed in a cold, clear pool from one of the side creeks, salamanders scurrying beneath our nakedness. We made dinner and  Giovannina soaked her feet in the cold water as we sat and watched the sun go down over the mountains, dark green, mist covered hills slowly fading from view in the distance.


The next morning we were greeted with two surprises. The first was rain, which dampened our moods and made hiking in blistered feet all the more painful. The second was a large group of rafters who came to Flora Dell to jump off one of the rock promintories. So much for solitude. We took both of these as signs  that it was time to move on, and so we hiked the last five miles out to our car, which had been shuttled - for a $100 fee - to the Ilahee parking lot. We got to the car, packed up, put on clean shirts and hit the road for Corvallis, where we met up with our friends Mike and Julie, had ourselves a burger and a beer or two,  and treated ourselves to the most wonderful of modern conveniences - a hot shower.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Happy Solstice!

 


On June 20th  (my mothers birthday, Giovannina writing, and the summer solstice) our destination was the painted hills of John Day National Park. We had heard about the unique colors of the Painted Hills and were excited to go see them. 
 
The painted hills are the result of thousands of years of volcanic eruptions over Central Oregon.  Each eruption laid a layer of ash and each had a different mineral composition. Years later as the land was geologically pushed up into "hills" and exposed to wind, rain and sun the minerals in each layer oxidized creating the bands of colors in the hills.  
 

We arrived around 7:00pm, the sky overhead was dark with thunder heads and the hills were wet from a recent rain. Over the next hour the sky cleared the hills dried and it almost seemed like we were watching the sun rise instead of set - we even got a rainbow. 






The changing light made the hills come alive, shifting colors as if they were being painted right there in front of us. A purely magical experience for such a special day. We watched the sun set and then headed out to find a spot to camp for the night. 
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.............................................................

The next day we drove to Crater Lake. It was my request to go (Woody had been there before) and I had done the research to make sure the roads were open, I was really looking forward to hiking around the most pristine lake in the world.  


Funny thing is that although the roads were open, as we got closer to the lake (and higher in elevation) there was still snow.  Not just a little, there was over 12 feet of snow on the side of the roads, and we learned that none of the hiking trails were cleared yet. As we watched people putting on their Snowshoes and skiis we realized how unprepared we were but we still decided to camp out that night and then drive the rim the next day to enjoy Crater lake from the car. 

 
                
That night we were snowed on (which was actually better then being rained on because for the last few nights we had been fighting a leak in our rain fly). In the morning, the sky was clear blue and we had spectacular views of the lake.
 Umpqua Falls near the hot springs.


Playing in the snow all day was fun but we were ready for a dry camp sight and decided to go early to the Umpqua Hot Springs. The perfect end to the Solstice weekend.


Happy Solstice !!!