Travels with The Rayman

This is an experiment.  I have downloaded a tune that, if you click on the arrow above, you can listen to as you read today’s tale.  Good luck.

At approximately 6:30 a.m. this morning I catapulted from bed upon hearing a strange noise outside.  “Is that the sound you heard yesterday.”, I asked.  “Yes.”, he replied.  So I dashed to the front of TDH and looked out the window.  OMG.  There it was.  A giant balloon in the sky.  The camera was procured and a few shots were snapped.  Then, when I turned around, I witnessed many hot air balloons floating around.  What a great way to wake up.  Such a surprise.

The next thing I did of any import at all, is I decided to do the laundry.  Laundry figures in our travels, doesn’t it?  And when you do laundry when on the road, you get the experience of never, ever seeing or using the same type of washing machine.  SpeedQueen, Maytag, ABT and other commercial machines are readily available at all the RV campgrounds we have frequented.  Prices differ as well.  As a general rule, the more expensive the RV park, the higher the fees to wash and dry.  And you must have quarters except for one place that had metal plugs we purchased at the lobby.  And the sizes of the loads are all different.  Some barely as big as my home washer and some that can handle three loads.  It is, in a word, inconsistent.  

So, this a.m. I headed to the laundry room to do the laundry and the first thing I did was throw all the light clothes  into the machine, a Tide gel thingee (techie term for a new fangled product that is essentially a liquid gel tab), and $1.75 in quarters.  Then I pressed whites.  And hot water started flowing.  OMG.  I didn’t want hot.  Things could shrink.  I was beside myself.  Pressing the buttons on the front of the machine was not registering with the machine itself.  OMG.  Things will shrink.  So, I turned off the hot water.  Well, sounds started emanating from the machine.  I tried to open it.  It was a front loader.  It would not open.  And the sound continued so I unplugged it figuring it would then reset the machine.  Well, the machine stopped howling.  But it still would not open.  About that time, Rayman came sauntering in.  I explained my dilemma and he went to the front desk of the office.  Returning, he said there was a young woman behind the desk who didn’t have a clue what to do.  After “discussing” the problem, I charged up to the office and told the young lady that we needed the washer to release our clothes and so she volunteered to call the maintenance man.  Okay.  I returned to the laundry room and waited with the Rayman who was “bemoaning” the situation.

The maintenance man entered, stage right.  He said, “Well, once the machine starts, nothing can be reversed and you certainly can’t open it.”  Dejected, I reached down on the pulled the door and it opened!!  OMG.  So, all three of us powwowed about the best plan of attack and it was decided that certainly the machine must have timed out (unbeknownst to the maint. man that this machine could do it) and, therefore, it could restarted and new cycle could be selected.  So, he plugged it in and it continued the old cycle.  OMG.  It could not be dissuaded from it’s program.  No way.  No how.  With speed and gusto, I pulled the plug from the wall.  We conferred.  I decided to call the number on the machine which I did and the woman on the phone stated that once started, the machine could not be stopped and opened.  At this point, it was my obligation to inform her that, yes, they could.  She had no answers or any further information but she suggested that maybe, maybe, it would reset itself in 20 minutes.  So, I decided I would wait 20 minutes.

While waiting the 20 minutes, a lady from the RV resort who cleans the bathrooms, laundry room etc., came in.  She couldn’t believe the machine opened when unplugged.  “But, don’t worry,  Most things shrink in the dryer.”   Then the maintenance man came after she left.  It was a venerable conference we were having there, in that laundry room.   And nobody had ever had this happen before.  Not me.  Not the maintenance man, not the woman.  Who knew?

But I digress.

So, my backup plan was to just let the machine have it’s way with my clothes.  It was holding that laundry hostage and was not going to release it until it “did it’s thing”.   But while I was still waiting, I decided to unplug it one more time (since 20 had elapsed) and give it one more chance.  So.  I waited.  And waited.  While waiting, Rayman vacuumed TDH, when to the dry cleaners to pick up my pants that I had soiled while sitting on pine-pitch ladened tree stumps and benches.  He returned.  And I was still there.

Finally.  I succumbed to the problem of my own making.  I let the washer have it’s way with me.  I turned on the hot water, plugged the machine back in and retreated to TDH to wait and see what damage all that hot water would do to my clothes.

p.s.  the maintenance man managed to point out to me on two occasions that the directions were posted on the top of the machine (insinuating that I had not looked).  Well, I looked.  Just didn’t see it.  A flair for the obvious that man.  And the “I can’t believe I’m that stupid” award for me.  I did suggest that the machine was a terribly designed machine.  It could not be stopped, it could not be changed.  And once stopped, it would not allow for any deviation.  A man must have his imprimatur all over that design.  No woman in her right mind would design or buy, for that matter, a machine so wanting in attributes.  Just sayin’.

OH, well.  Tomorrow morning the maintenance man promised that there would be more hot air balloons floating by.  They do it every year on this particular weekend.  I plan to observe it all in my clean, hanger dried t-shirt that didn’t shrink!!!

Yesterday we decided that we needed to take a hike…literally.  So off we went, parked the car at a trailhead and bounced down the trail which wasn’t anything special.  However, we were using our legs and so we followed our noses which lead us to a big field with giant utility poles that marched across the landscape like aliens.  We then entered a trail that became “treed”…that is we found ourselves amongst trees and were warned to stay on the path because the state was trying to re-tree the area.  Seems there was a dam that had been removed (there is quite a lot of that happening, I’ve heard).  And so the area affected was being “revegetated”.  And that is a great idea, I suppose.

So, as we marched along, the trail became narrow and then narrower still until we finally came upon a “bridge” that took us to a round structure.  On each of the individual boards, there were names of species inscribed in the wood.  With dates.  And when we looked at the data, it was discovered that the species were ones that Lewis described and listed in his journal.  Therefore, Lewis and Clark had actually been at that spot on the edge of the Sandy River.  They named the Sandy River the Quicksand River but that name did not endure because Lewis dragged his feet in securing an editor and Jefferson had many of Lewis’s specimens and papers sent by boat  across the Chesapeake and the darn boat ran aground and all the Lewis treasures were lost.  Ironic that he, Lewis, could get the specimens and journals back to Jefferson from the west coast, but they could not make it across a bay.  Are you kidding me?

The reason I am such a font of knowledge is because I read the book “Undaunted Courage”.  By Stephen Ambrose.  A must-read if you have any interest in the first trip by Americans from the East to the West coast.  It was quite the trip.  In this day and age when we hardly leave the house without a GPS, this group of men and Sacagewea (the only woman, the only Indian on the trip who joined the Voyage of Discovery ((when she was pregnant)) and she was with her husband, a french fellow who was needed for his experience in that neck of the woods and it turns out she was needed because she could speak the language of her tribe and she gave birth on that trip and made it all the way and back with her son) canoed, portaged and walked, rode horses in an effort to find out if there was a transcontinental waterway.  And this was done in the first decade of the 1800s.  It took about 3 1/2 years.  They stood where we stood in 1805.  Yikes.  Sends shivers down the spine.

So that hike was a winner.  We just fell into it.  

And let me tell you about Beau.  He ran headlong into a goldendoodle.  She was lovely.  And her mistress was a young woman who ran like the wind.  So we followed them down to the shore of the Sandy River.  OMG.  Beau and Goldie (just made that name and the sex up), frolicked in the muddy river.  There were sandy stretches between shallow water and they had quite a time.  So, an historic hike.

View from the trail to the top.

Now today, we decided to bike ride.  However, we overslept and so decided perhaps a hike would be better followed by a Voodoo Donut.  So, I found a hike and judging from the picture in the book, it looked to be right on Highway 84.  Only it wasn’t.  Rayman was riding shotgun and he couldn’t find it on his phone or ipad.  So, we finally got off the freeway and I looked it up.  Yep.  We overshot the Horsetail Falls by about 15 miles.  And then on our way back, we stopped at a day use area and the woman told us to go east on 84 and get off at exit 28.  Finally, we found the falls along with about 500,000 other day trippers that were cruising the road looking for a parking spot.  Really, people.  What were we thinking?  It was Saturday and every woman without a tan was spotted walking to the trail we planned to climb.  I have never seen so many white, white legs.  These people do not get out much.  In the sunlight.

Horsetail Falls…the lower one.

But I digress.

The hike was described in the brochure as an easy hike.  My ass.  At least at the beginning.  We rose from the road to the top of the fall on a series to switchbacks that were steeper than a staircase.  We got to the top and reached the Upper Horsetail Fall.  Very pretty.  Except for the part of the trail where someone had just barfed.  

As Yogi Berra said, “If you find a fork in the road, take it.”  So, we could have returned from whence we came but decided to keep hiking.  We went up.  We went down.  We went round and round.  Rayman almost slipped off the side of the mountain twice.  Really.  It is quite remarkable that the state of OR has not installed railings.  There were some places that dropped off…immediately.  We came upon a marker memorializing a 14 year old boy that had died when he fell over the cliff.  The same cliff we were on.  Holy mackerel.  I’m serious about this.  Install some railings.  

Anyway, we kept passing people and it made us nervous when we were on the outside cliff side.  All they had to do was push suddenly and we’d be personas non gratas.  So, at one point when I thought I was about at the end of my rope with all this huffing and puffing, a couple came by and I asked them, “Do you know where we are going?”  They took the time to tell us that we were headed in the right direction.  So, I said, “We’ve been up here for 3 days and haven’t been able to get off the mountain.”  Of course, this was in jest.  The man got a startled look on his face.  I got him!!  So then I had to tell him I as kidding.  He looked annoyingly relieved.  We laughed once out of earshot.

Picture of the Upper Horsetail Fall.  See all those little people?  Quite fun.  A projectile fall.

Once we did get off the mountain, we headed back to TDH because I had to change my pants because I sat on a stump and got more pine pitch on my pants.  Second pair.  First pair ruined.  This pair probably ruined.  We then headed out to downtown Portland for a donut from Voodoo Doughnuts.  World famous.  Their donuts are fabulous and names even better.  Balls and Cock was the name of one donut.  No, I am not making this up.  I report.  You decide.  I ordered a bacon maple bar.  Yes.  A maple bar with two strips of bacon on top.  Come on.  I earned it.  Rayman whoosied out and got some mamby pamby lemon concoction.  It was good but not as decedent as mine!!  Then we went to Chicos and I bought two items to replace my pine pitched items.  Then we got lost looking for Whole Foods downtown and almost ended up at the Portland Zoo.  And then we retraced our steps and found the Whole Foods, purchased stuff for dinner and returned to TDH.

One tier of the donut display.

The bacon maple bar!!

Quite a day, overall.  Glad to be alive.  Really.  We could have died up there!!  Perhaps our hike was taken by Lewis and Clark too.  Except there were no paths except for what the Nez Perce Indians would have established.  I don’t know.  Stranger things have happened.  One thing is for certain.  Lewis and Clark would not have encountered people on the trail and asked them if they, the people, knew where they were going.

People, this is a rough life.  The Rayman and I sit under four lumbering juniper trees which are providing glorious shade.  Besides the beautiful flowers and the other RVs, we can see one of the Sisters mountains, adored with snow and crowned with a huge thunderhead.  What’s not to like?  It is fabulous.

Yesterday was NOT  like today at all.  Today we are preparing to embark on the northernmost location  of our trip …to Portland.  When one gets ready to leave there are a myriad of tasks to be performed.  Washing.  This time moi did the duty.  And I did not use the dryer.  Clothes were hung in the RV for drying.  Then I needed to clean the kitchen so I could make brine for the bone-in pork chops that we plan to barbecue tonight.  Oh, and then I needed to blanch the string  beans.  Why is it one thing always leads to another?   Then I cleaned out the refrigerator.  A few things past their prime needed to be discarded.  No need to truck the tired cilantro to Portland just to throw it away there, is there?  Then clothes needed to be folded and put away as they dry very quickly here.   Ah, where was the Rayman you are asking.  He went to Sisters to wash the car and then to the ice cream store where he bought huckleberry ice cream to go with the recently purchased marionberry pie.  And a shallot, a lemon, a head of garlic.  The ice cream was not on my list but sure am glad he took the initiative.

Well.  Yesterday was quite removed from these types of domestic chores.  Yesterday we broke all the age records of the day.  We were, without a doubt, the oldest living things floating down the Deschutes River which intersects the city of Bend.  What a hoot.  No pictures to post because we were afraid of getting the camera/iPhone wet.  Perhaps your imaginations will prove better for us than the real thing!  This feat was performed when we rented two inner tubes in which we inserted our derrieres into the middle of and got our fannies nice and cold.  Everything else stuck out unless we voluntarily put our hands and feet into the swirling cold water.  We of course did that too.  That is because once you put the tube in the water and then you insert yourself into the tube, it became incumbant on you to guide yourself to the place where you took the tube and yourself out of the river.  And that had to be done twice.  Let me back up.

Click on the link below for a picture.

http://tumalocreek.com/river-tubes/

We rented the tubes from a young woman with no sense of humor whatsoever.  Tall, lean, rye.  We then signed away all our rights and plunked down $30 for the two of us to float down that river.  A young man then gave us two tubes and instructed us to carry the tubes across a nearby bridge, turn right, find the beach on the other side by “those trees over there”.  From there you float under two bridges and then exit the river on the other side from whence you entered.  Then you schlepp (my verb) the tubes up to the street where a city bus picks you up and transports you to another part of the river.  The city bus collects $1.50 each for the pleasure of the ride and we had to have correct change.  Yes, they will take wet money.  Then the bus takes you to another spot to put in, as it were.  Then you slither onto the tube and float again down the river.  But, don’t, don’t go over the dam.  WHAT?  Dam?  OMG.

Well, you know that bridge we had to cross on foot while lugging our tubes?  That is directly over the dam.  So, before you get to the dam, you must disembark your tube on the opposite side of the river…again…and bring the tube back to the tube rental business.  Well, that sounded easy.

What fun we had.  We verified that we were, indeed, the oldest people on the river and on the bus.  Except the bus driver.  He gave us a run for our money in the age department.  But we didn’t care.  We were thrilled to be there.  That is when I got the bright idea to spring the ambulatory people from the local rest homes/assisted living centers and bring them on down to the river.  I think they would enjoy the ride.  Assistance would definitely be required.  Heck, we could you have used some assistance!!

It was gentle.  Slow.  The only excitement was wrestling the tube at the start and end of the ride.   Rayman was a bit concerned (read really, really nervous) about missing the place to exit the river so he splashed feverishly when we approached the exits.  If you missed the exit, I’m not sure what would happen.  Perhaps if you could extricate yourself from the hole in the tube, you would find the river to be about 2 feet deep.  I don’t know.  All I know is that extricating yourself from the tube was a hoot.  Legs splayed.   Weight “rearranged”.  Crawling.  And many other methods of extrication were engaged.  The kids sprang forth from the tubes.  We lumbered.    Just like the rest of life at this point.

So glad we did it.  It was a blast.  And then we celebrated with  ice cream cones.

I’m missing my writing so I’m writing to satisfy myself.  It’s not that I have a lot to say.  Just saying.

The great northwest continues it’s rush to break all heat records, I’m pretty sure.  Oh, I know.  We said we didn’t want to suffer through a foggy summer.  By that I think we meant, let’s mosey north where it is a bit warmer and a lot sunnier.  Not, let’s mosey north and roast our assess off.  That was not part of the thinking of either the Rayman, me or Beau (whom I speak for).  But, alas, here we are and what are we doing here?

The other morning the Rayman woke me up because he wanted to strip the sheets off the bed because he wanted to wash them.  I’m blessed.  However, I was asleep.  And he reminded me of my grandmother who used to wake me up every Saturday morning.  She declared Saturday to be laundry day.  But her laundry day was much different for her.  She did not own a washing machine.  Actually, we don’t have a washing machine in TDH, but everywhere we stay has washing machines and dryers for a price.  And the price swings are radical.  $1.00 to $2.00 a load for washing.  And .75 cents to $1.50 for dryers.

But I digress.

My grandmother would load the dirty clothes into the car and my grandfather or mother or, later, I would drive her down to Mr. Alexander’s.  He owned a laundromat on Pine St. in Paso.  It was a big high ceilinged place filled with Maytag wringer washer machines.  There were a few cement “canals” that ran through the building that were used for dumping the dirty water from the machines and the tubs.  She would have the washer filled and a big wash tub (like the kind we put in garages) filled with rinse water.  And after the clothes got churned up real good, the process of wringing and rinsing commenced.  And I was forced to participate.  OMG.  It was hot (read no air conditioning) and humid (read from all the hot water steaming) in the summer.  Winter was much kinder on the washer women of Paso.  It took hours.  And then we would gather up the clothes, pack them into wicker baskets and return home to hang them out on the clothes line in back that had not a bit of shade.   It was hard on me…I cannot even imagine how hard it was for my grandmother.  She was a tough ole bird…and her name was Birdie!!  And the kicker is, she did this until I graduated from high school in 1963.  She didn’t need to make it so hard on herself.  The neighbors had a washer and dryer in their HOUSE.  Not grandma.  In reality, it probably felt like luxury to go to Mr. Alexander’s laundromat.  We have to remember that when my grandmother married, my grandfather took her out to “the ranch” where she had a wood stove and an outhouse.  How did she do the laundry then?  Probably by hand.  There was no running water in a stream with rocks that she could beat the clothes with (dangling participle).   She had to prime the pump.  Laundry was much harder.

But I digress.

Well, so, Rayman didn’t have to do the laundry that way.  Except that on this trip we have used a clothes rack for drying things.  It takes about 20 minutes in this heat.  And hangers for shirts/blouses that, if hung, dry equally as fast and with few wrinkles.     Still, what woman wouldn’t want the problem that I have?  A husband or significant other that is willing to do laundry without asking.  I am counting my blessings.

When the Rayman returned from the “laundry room”, he opened the door to the next door neighbor’s RV.  Espying the man on the couch, he said, “Oh, I am so sorry.”  The man on the coach retorted, “Wrong coach.”  Luckily he did not have a gun at his side for he might have “stood his ground”.  “An innocent mistake takes life of local man” would be the headline in The Tribune.  We were lucky we weren’t in Floridah.   

So.  Where was I?

The other day we went to a play in Ashland called “The Great Society” and it was a play about LBJ.  At intermission, Rayman walked into the ladies restroom.  When he scurried out, he was red as a beet.  These type of incidents are new to his repertoire.  And twice in one week.  Should I be worried?  I wonder.  Should he be worried?  Most definitely.

This just in.  I beat Rayman at golf the other day.  Gross.  To be fair, it was a par 58 course and most of my yardages were 100 yards to 140 yards with an occasional 250 thrown in for good measure.  It was the most fun I have ever had playing golf because the course was a full 18 holes that only took 2 1/2 hours to play and I had 11 pars.  I have never had 11 pars anywhere, anytime.  My thinking leads me to the conclusion that golf courses of the future should be like this one.  Short and sweet with ample trouble that punishes an errant shot but rewards a person for accuracy and good putting.  And it didn’t take all day.  Really, people.  Pros can have the long courses.  For just plain old fun, shorter is better.

Today we took a ride to see the sights nearby.  We visited a fishery, the headwaters of a river, and a high hill.  Here are some pictures.

Beau regarding the trout

The Metolius River

La Familia y rio Metolius

La femme et Bend, OR et montagne Sisters.

A fisherperson’s dream. Trout at the fishery.

So…our new friends, the Chambers, whom live in Redmond just north of Bend, invited to dinner last evening.  And they watched Beau for us when we played golf.  These guys are great.  We met them in Graeagle/Plumas Pines.  So glad we did.  He barbecued beef blade cut ribs.  OMG.  They were so flavorful.  And she made a zucchini baked affair and scalloped potatoes.  Yummy.  When discussing food we ventured onto Mexican food and they told us about a place in Redmond where, when you order guacamole, the waiter makes it at your table.  Sort of like they used to do in fine restaurants for Caesar salad.  Well.  One the lead to the next…and now we plan to go with them to Diego’s tomorrow night.  Brice reports that they don’t do regular Mexican food.  Perfect.  Since I tried beef cheek tacos the other night at La Tapatia (see previous blog), I am hoping for tongue this outing.  Or goat.  I’m ready to broaden my horizons in the eating department.  Ole.

And here’s the latest epiphany.  Rayman loves this life of RVing.  He is more relaxed than I have ever seen him.  Perhaps it is because we don’t watch TV.  And we visit places that we would not visit if we were staying in a motel.  And there is a lot less work than at home.  Just saying.  This whole thing is a revelation.  Now we both understand the lure of the RV phenom.  We are surprised and delighted.  And we’ll see you in September!!

“On Tuesday or Thursday, why don’t we go out for Mexican food?”, our good friends asked.  Digressing, the picture below is of Al and Charlie and Beau and the Rayman.

“Great.  We know just the place.  A restaurant  is behind the grocery store.  Plastic chairs, that kind of place.  But the food?  Muy bueno.”, I replied.

“What’s the name of the place?, they quizzed.

“We aren’t sure. But is in Phoenix (a name of a town north of Ashland).  And it’s not too far from the RV place we stayed one night in Medford on our way to be snowed in at the Corvallis Fairgrounds RV “resort”.”

“Okay.”

Anyway, we decided to meet up with Al and Charlie at 5 p.m. and go for a beer at local brewery and then off to Phoenix to eat at La Tapitia.  Incidentally, the young women that served us our beer gave La Tapitia high marks.  I must also inject that Elizabeth, an Ashlandian, loved the restaurant too.

At or about 5:00 p.m. we were off.  Al drove us with some assistance from Charlie to the brewery.  Beer was great.  I had one that used the words old bourbon-soaked tanks and chocolate in the same sentence in it’s description.  Yummy.  Higher than usual alcohol level too.  Anyway, we drank our beer over a bowl of chips that I thought were cooked to order only to discover that they ripped open the bag instead.   But we ate them anyway.  We were hungry.

After a beer had been had, we jumped in the truck (no easy jump for people of a certain age), and headed to La Tapitia.  Only Charlie thought the name of the restaurant was El Tapitio.  “No.”, I said.  It’s La Tapitia.  Well, this went on for many miles because Al took the ramp off the freeway that took the weary traveler to hotels without number, gas stations, restaurants etc.  And on the sign that detailed all this information, El Tapito’s name appeared.   “That’s it!”, exclaimed Charlie.  Certainty was in the air.   But I said, “The next off ramp would have been better.  It is much closer to the RV park we stayed in.”.  “Al and Charlie said, “But we saw it on the sign.”

“Okay, Charlie but the restaurant is north of here.  It’s name is La Tapitia.  “Turn right.”, I ordered.

Al turned right.  So down the road we went while continuing our polite discussion of “was it El or La?”  And may I add, it was also lively.  The polite discussion was lively.

Then Al intimated that we didn’t know what we were talking about.  That was useful.  At this point the decibel label jumped up a notch.  We continued to debate.  Yes, the polite and lively discussion took on overtones of a debate.  Things like, “No IT isn’t.” to “Yes IT is.”

Charlie swore she passed by the place when she was out riding her bike and it was located on the right if we had turned left while I assured her that it was on the right turning right.  That would make each restaurant on the other side of the street.

Charlie speculated that the two establishments might be owned by the same people.  I discounted that out of hand.  My position was based on the assumption that no one would do that.  And the debate continued.  So I did what any modern Milly would do.  I Yelped it.  And Yelp reported that 1.  There is a La Tapatia in Phoenix.  2.  There was no listing for an El Tapitio.  And La Tapatia was closed on Tuesday.  OMG.  It’s Tuesday.

Well, this did not dissuade Charlie from not believing there was no El Tapitio.  She soldiered on believing there was an El Tapitio.  So…I suggested we see what restaurant was No. 2 in Yelp.  No. 2 was in Medford and since El Tapitio existed (at least in Charlie’s mind) in Ashland, we would go there.  And she prevailed but not before we drove by La Tapitia to see the “Closed” sign in the window.

When we arrived at El Tapitio (which was on the right side if we’d turned left, we made the decision that we would check it out and leave if we didn’t like it.  But that was after we refused to believe there was an El Tapitio and then there it was.  It did exist.  Charlie was right.

Upon entering, we were ushered to a booth.  The first thing we noticed were the karaoke singers in the middle of the back wall belting out a song to a crowd of about 3 strong.  And as we passed the table with the diners, the food didn’t look good.  But we sat down for about 10 seconds before we raced out the door with the maitre d’ practically following us to the car as he implored us to stay.  It as a hoot.

By this time we are ravenous and hysterically laughing.  We finally figured out that the reason we were lost, not lost, and thinking there was only a La Tapitia when there was also an El Tapitio…well, you just can’t make this stuff up.  And it happened.  And Rayman and I are pretty sure that it is because they were with us.  We specialize in getting lost in, oh, so many ways.   We can’t help ourselves.  And so we all laughed.

So, let’s recap, folks.  We had a beer at the Caldera Brewery.  We left the brewery to go eat at the Mexican restaurant.  The Mexican restaurant was closed.  Charlie was sure La Tapitia was El Tapitio.  I was certain she was wrong.  We located La Tapitia.  It was closed.  We then located El Tapitio and no one wanted to eat there.  So, what did we do?  We drove back to Caldera Brewery where we ordered dinner with wine and ate outside looking eastward.

And we laughed.   Had a great time.  The food was wonderful and we ended up with this funny story.  At least I hope you, the dear reader, think it is.

It only took me 69 years to discover the great Lassen National Park.  A milestone.  Ever since I watched a Hugh Howell segment on PBS, I have longed for Lassen.  And it did not disappoint.  Below please Rayman posing in front of Lake Helen.  I had an Aunt named Helen so we stopped to honor her.  And then the photo below is me somewhere at Lassen.  

Because it has been hot in the Sierras this summer, today was like all others.  Hot.  We packed up early, turned on the AC for Beau, and jumped in the Fit to drive to the park from Eagle Lake.  While the distances are not great, the trip takes time because it is all 2 lane roads with plenty of twists and turns.  Sort of like life in your 20s.  And while the sky was blue, it was hazy made that way either by forrest fires or smog?  or dust?  Don’t know the derivation.  Just know that there  were particulates in the air.

Last night we decided to get an early start so that we could indulge in breakfast at a diner.  It’s been a while since we have eaten out for the first meal of the day.  We figured we could dine half way to the park and eat a big breakfast, therefore avoiding lunch all together.  So, before we left TDH, I took shrimp out of the freezer for an easy dinner tonight…barbies on the grill.  And I was moved to do this because months ago, I downloaded a sample of a cookbook Ruhlman’s 20 Techniques because I had given it as a gift to my good friend, Nancy Cleland of the blog [email protected] and I wanted to see if I wanted the cookbook too.  Well, I had never reviewed the sample so this a.m. I read a chapter on salting.  Wow.  Great stuff here.   As I recalled, he recommends pre-salting fish about 10 minutes before cooking for amazing results.  So, naturally, I must try this.  Just hope it applies to shrimp (shellfish).  I also learned that I have been under salting  pasta water my whole life.

But I digress.

Anyway.  Breakfast was fabulous.  A little cafe/bakery in Chester.  It sat about 20 people, maybe.  I’d give you the name of the place but we don’t have an internet connection owing to the fact that we are in the middle of a valley with lots a trees and lake.  No signal here.

Lassen is a volcanic park and it has many bubbling pools that will kill you if you fall in.  They smell of sulfur and bubble like crazy.  There are geysers.  Waterfalls, huge mountains.  Vistas galore.  We entered from the south and drove to the north gate.  This was a fortuitous decision because it put us on the outside lane so we had a great view looking down into the chasm.  And no guardrails to get the way of a view.  This might terrify some of you…but I loved it.  Here’s are some more of the shots we took.  Lassen erupted in 1915.  And those bubbling pools are a sharp remember that there is plenty of activity in the area and the volcano is not dead.  Dodododo, dododo.

All the hikes to the really interesting bubbling pools took 1 to 4 hours.  We didn’t have this kind of time because we left Beauzer back at TDH.  So, we decided after much deliberation that we would return on our way home from Oregon in late August.  And we would find a campground just outside the park so that we could drive in, hike, and drive out in time for the doggie to get his meal on time.  This would also give us a couple of days to do a couple of hikes.  And it should be cooler.  Even at 8000 ft. it was fairly hot.  And it would be mid-week so less people should be there.  The literature also advises to hike early before afternoon thunderheads pop up.  Thunderheads equal lightening and rain or snow.   And bring lots of water.  etc. etc.  Here is some additional information about Lassen for your information.

http://www.nps.gov/lavo/index.htm

So that’s the plan.

We are so lucky to live in CA.  It truly is California’s Gold.  My Hugh rest in peace.

Incidentally, I finished the book about Lewis and Clark.  OMG.  Undaunted Courage by Ambrose.  It was a wonderful read.  Whenever I read it, I was so captivated that I would give Rayman a recap.  He seems to have enjoyed the book too.  When they returned from their trip, Lewis was in charge of getting all his collected information into book form.  His plan was to publish 3 volumes.  Remember, he was schooled in botany, in astronomy, geology, map drawing, zoology.  While not a scholar in any of these areas of study, he knew a great deal.   He was also a military man, a hunter, a marksman, an explorer since an early age.  Anyway, he arranged for illustrators, botanists to verify findings (he discovered a goodly amount of animals never before known), scientists to calculate longitude and latitude readings that he took.  Yet he never hired an editor.  The long and short of it is that he never published his volumes of critically important information.  And I’m not going to spoil it for you by telling you why.  You must read it if you are interested.  It is so good.  Thank you Larry J. for recommending it to me.

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