TRANSPORT pages |
18 September 2019 : Going Home jump to this page > > > | |||
Threatening sky and fog among the Redwoods as we climbed over the promontory that constitutes the south edge of Crescent City's half-moon bay. As usual, I opted for the Newton B Drury Parkway alternative to the fancy new freeway that circumvents the best of the Redwoods. Even with the treetops vanishing into clouds and sporadic rain, it's staggeringly tall and beautiful.
One of the things I love most about this bit of "tree theater" is how it imposes an awed awareness on all who take the time to drive through. Gone suddenly is the urge to speed. Instead, drivers dawdle, stop in their traffic lanes to wonder, then awaken to the fact that they've stopped right on the highway and pull over.
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Leaving Eureka a couple of hours (and a 20k mile car service) we saw a poster on a building: "There is no Planet B". Just south of Benbow, at the top of the hill before the freeway ends, we saw a pair of bikers with camping gear stopped beside the road and obviously discussing what they saw ahead. Rochelle took a picture, and I said "Looks like we're headed into a squall." Was I right! Turn the wipers up to high. At peak downpour we were running behind a couple on a motorcycle. "Doesn't look like they're having fun," opined Rochelle. | |||
Today was what we sometimes call a "strobe light day" with bursts of sunshine, intense rain squalls (sometimes at the same time; look for rainbows!) and, finally, just south of Cape Vizcaino, Highway 1 breaks out onto the coast, and there's our blessed home ocean through the (invasive) buffalo grass.
On this day, there were several two-lane sections where we once again had time to wonder about the selfish souls who drive RVs. Is this the grown-up equivalent of a blankie, without which they are uncomfortable venturing out into the cruel, unfriendly world, poor things? The importance of the driver in car #2 of a parade was also brought into focus. Of course a driver from Illinois is going to be intimidated by our twisty, steep mountain roads, and the stretch from Leggett to Westport is the poster child for this kind of road. Luckily, most visiting drivers get that locals may actually need to get somewhere on time, and use the pullouts. And then there are selfish locals. For twenty slow miles we drove behind a fisherman in a pickup with a big trailer stacked high with brand new crab traps, probably doing the best he could, but completely unwilling to pull over despite multiple opportunities. "I may be slow, but I'm ahead of YOU!" Finally, at the first legal passing straight-away I sped past him, and being passed apparently made his penis shrivel so badly that he called the highway patrol to report a "crazy driver." Just north of Cleone, a Highway Patrol car pulled out of hiding and tailed me to Ward Avenue, where he flashed his lights and I pulled over. A complete professional, and aware that this was a nonsense stop, we discussed tourists, pullouts, hairpin turns, and selfish locals. "I have his phone number; I'll talk to him," was where we left it. Again, interestingly (and fortunately; I no longer have to knock on wood) we saw no accidents and had no unpleasant direct encounters. Everyone we met was friendly, welcoming if local, curious if visiting; respectful of the wonders we had all come to see. All in all, a very satisfactory adventure.
Ten miles after our visit with The Law (and a quick stop at our wonderful farmers market for supplies) we rolled into Caspar. As you can see below (and I don't mean to boast), we made 70.1 miles per gallon on this trip of 2,500+ miles. Now, safely at home and with Pi-cat sleeping nearby, I am glad to have no more long-distance driving in the rain in my future. Maybe a divergence is taking place for me: the highways and byways are becoming more crowded and less enticing while I'm getting older and slower. I am very thankful to be home safe and in one piece, with the richness of this trip firmly in my mind.
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We’re HOME! | |||
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6 May 2022 : at Damiana’s jump to this page > > > | |||
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30 May 2023 : Vancouver B.C. jump to this page > > > | |||
Lunch from a place called Napa Farms that served all its over-priced but fresh and thoughtfully prepared food items in little plastic coffins. When we were finished, we were left with an admirable pile of trash. The outstanding dish was a vegan Caesar Salad with something called 'seed parmesan.' | |||
We were still early, but our gate was open and already pretty well populated. Ever notice how the folks getting on a plane to X have X characteristics? Well, Vancouver is one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the Americas, and so were the folks waiting for the plane. We had an hour and a half to wait, and the people watching was great.
Lots of dehumanizing / employee eliminating tech 'for your security' and then, on time to the minute, we were pushing back. My general impression at this point is that if authority says the magic word 'security' we uhmurrcuns will put up with anything.
But finally we were on our way :
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This is a south-to-north flight (of course) and so it reads backwards. Bear with me. (Bears with me comes later.)
On the way up: the east bay and beyond. Clear skies.
And then we flew right up the spine of the Cascades. I'm guessing: Lassen
Michael glued to the airplane window
Three Sisters?
Mount Hood | |||
Bonneville Dam (lower center) and the Columbia
Mount Saint Helens
Mount Rainier
Mount Adams? (in cloud)
Mount Baker
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And then we were on final approach to Vancouver International, hereinafter referred to as YVR.
Birch Bay and Blaine, Washington (the top of the US)
The Fraser at Westminster
Burnaby
Log rafts on the Fraser
About here's where Rochelle said, 'I didn't think Vancouver was this big.' Well, it wasn't, but it is now. Our first serious visit to Vancouver was for the World's Fair in 1986. | |||
next group : Campbell River, B.C. | |||
other topics: Lunches Dinners Markets |
updated 17 December 2020 Caspar Time site software and photographs by the Caspar Institute except as noted this site generated with 100% recycled electrons! send website feedback to the CI webster |