Travels with The Rayman

Fuzzy picture.  Sorry.

The week started off on the 4th.  July 4th…the night of fireworks and the day at the cabin at the base of Mt. Hood.  It was so fun with family and doggies.  And music and impromptu dancing and we didn’t get lost and we walked along the Sandy River.  Good, good.

The rest of the week involved golf, meeting new kiddos and hiking to the Columbia River on the WA side.  

The devils are in the details.  

The weather was cool as we teed off at Camas Meadows country club…they let the plebs play and so we did.  It was a golf course set amongst huge trees, wide meadows, lots of sand traps, plenty of water and we had a great time. 

Met Ryan in Vancouver après golf and had lunch and a beer.  The beers are of great variety and extremely interesting.  Everything went according to Hoyle.  

 Thursday we drove to Vancouver again to meet Tam’s foster kids.  Here is a picture. 

It was Alonzo’s 13th birthday and we bought him some artist supplies.  He loves to draw!!  We were thrilled when he opened them up and started using them immediately and in front of us.  It doesn’t get much better than that!!   The kids live with their mother but Tam took them in 6 years ago when trouble was the name of the game.  Her steady guidance and help continue to this day when she coordinates with their mother for visits.  

Today, we agreed to meet Tamara and her kiddos in Vancouver at the Marine Park.  We met at the parking lot and that’s when things turned interesting.  We had towels, food, chairs, blow up water toys.  Water, soda, snacks.  Tamara texted us and told us the parking lot was about 1/4 mile to the river.  Okay, fine.  

The kids sprinted ahead and disappeared into the bushes.  Tamara followed.  We followed Tamara like cattle to the slaughter.  A path about the width of, say, an ironing board was before us.  It was framed with berry bushes that jutted into the path.  It was treed and with those trees came tree roots that popped up everywhere which made the downhill path treacherous.  There were also big rocks about the size of footballs placed strategically by nature so that the danger level rose like the red line on a candy thermometer.  And it was here on that path that Eyo slipped as he walked down a particularly steep portion of the trail,  Alonzo made it down.  I slipped but managed to stay upright because I had appropriate footwear on.  Rayman.  He stumbled down tripping as he came toward me.  So, at that point, we decided this trail was too hard for our skill level.  So we headed back up the trail from whence we came.  Well, Rayman on his way up lost his footing and slid down the face of the trail like he was on skis doing a downhill run and in doing so, found himself headed for berry bushes and a huge tree.  Luckily, he stuck his arms out in front of himself and he crashed into the tree and then fell like a stone somehow avoiding the berry bushes.  Stunned, bruised, bleeding, he popped up and tried to put on a happy face.  I was a bit mortified because he hit me on his way down like a skier of slaloms.  

Click on this to get an idea of the flat area…Rocks and trees

Where is the path for older people, I wondered?  Were all the paths like this?  Good grief, what have we gotten ourselves into?  Tamara assured us that there were easier trails.  So we soldiered on and found one.  We took it and arrived on the bank of the Columbia River.  The view was grand.  

Tamara, in the meantime, was mortified.  The kids barely noticed as kids are wont to do.  I got off with only a bruise or two.  Rayman on the other hand was a mess.  He was still bleeding here and there and had bruises galore caused by taking aspirin, 82 mg every day.  Oh, I almost forgot, I picked up a big stick and gave it to him in hopes it would make walking easier.  It did and it used it the rest of the afternoon.  It really came in handy when we decided to depart earlier than the kids reassuring Tamara we knew the way out.  Of course, we got lost in the thicket.  And after 10 minutes of walking thru head high bushes on a trail, we arrived back were we started.  This, of course, was not the least bit surprising because over the years we have developed a wonderful skill of getting lost.   

So, what did I do?  I took at my phone and screamed, “Siri, find my car!”  That did not work.  Siri told me to sign into Google first.  Screw that.  So we traced ourself back where we had come from but turned left at some point because it was going uphill.  Eventually, we emerged from the jungle like Kathleen Turner and Michael Douglas, I think it was, in Romancing the Stone.  And we were about as far away as we could possibly from our car.  

And that has been our week….so far.

P.S.  On the way home we delighted ourselves by discussing the possibility of hiring a chauffeur that could take us everywhere while we sat in the back seat of the big comfortable car sipping champagne.  Really, I think that is what we need now.

For several days this week, we have been living in convection oven…hot, hot, hot with a breeze.  Are we done yet?  Are we baked all the way through?  Where is that cake tester?

Happily, we made it by staying inside utilizing our covid skills of total social distance from the outside world.  Only a fast trip to the grocery before it got really hot and a short walk twice a day broke the monotony of home confinement.  Self administered staying safe is the new normal so it didn’t feel as abnormal as it would have two years ago, say.

Therefore, today just had to be different.  We needed to break from the casa as the heat was dialed back a bit for this Tuesday.

So…we jumped in the car with the dog and headed for the beach.  Specifically we headed to Astoria, Oregon via an obscure route via the state of Washington.  So what went wrong was that the GPS doesn’t work very good when you want to find backroads.  The GPS wants you on the freeway for the most most part.  And maps are now too tiny to read.  The print is absurdly small…like the guys at McNally are either near-sighted or about 18 years old.  And so we guessed at what the map said.  And that is how we eded up a road that ran along a park that abruptly ended.  Kaput.  It just stopped going anywhere and without warning…there was no “Dead end” sign anywhere to found.  We also found ourselves wandering around the city of Vancouver, WA trying to find the secret passage to the west.  We successfully managed to squander about an hour lost in space.  However, we did get to see where Ryan works up close and personal.  So all was not lost…just us.

Rayman drove and I was navigating.  Perhaps on not the best use of rnesources.  But somehow, we overcame that deficiency and we found our way driving west in the state of WA along the mighty Columbia River.  It was a beautiful ride with very little traffic.  We did manage to see quite a few logger trucks which I flipped off was we passed them…they were headed east and they were hauling newly felled trees.  Glimpses of clear cut mountains were observed much to my chagrin.  Denuding a mountain of its trees is both heartbreaking and horrifyingly ugly.  Just saying.

At the point that we were about to turn south and take the bridge into Astoria, I saw a sign pointing to a road that had an historical marker announcing that two miles down this particular road would lead to the oldest covered bridge still remaining…or something to that effect.  So, we went to see the covered bridge.  

 

Here is some info re: the bridge.  

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grays_River_Covered_Bridge

We crossed the bridge which was sort of out of the way except that there were two ATT trucks down the road with men/women up poles.  So, we parked at a small clearing that sported a “honey bucket” and a sign explaining how the bridge came to be.  When we bailed from the car, we realized, we needed to relieve ourselves so Rayman went to the honey bucket and returned with warnings about things overflowing and disgusting other images.  So, I decided to relieve myself standing up behind the car door using my paper funnel thing.  That worked like a charm only there was no place to throw it away so Rayman suggested we rinse it out with the water in Beau’s bowl that he did not drink.  Good idea until Rayman did the pouring, I held the tinkle aid and the water went throughthe tinkle aid and landed on the shoe of my right foot.  

This got me to laughing and I could not quit.  My funny bone had been tickled and there was no use.  I laughed as traversed the bridge.  I laughed as we drove back the two miles to the main road.  It was like a culmination of all the funny things that have ever happened to us…crystallized in that one moment.  Who are we?   The Marx brothers?  Lucy and Desi?  The two stooges?  Do these things happen to you?  I am deeply curious or is it just us?

As my shoe was drying we rode into town over one of the bridges that looks like a giant erector set.  We were hungry.  We found a brewery but they only did pizza.  I wanted fish.  Three establishments later, we gave up on food.  Either the restaurant was closed on Tuesday or the wait list was ridiculously long.  My cousin was right…everyone escaped the heat and headed for the beach.  

So we headed back to Portland with hunger pains keeping us alert.  When we hit the first big town, we found a Baskins Robbins and had ice cream for lunch on a sugar cone.

And here we are, too hot again, too tired from driving, but exhilarated by all the pretty scenery we saw on the unguided tour of the Pacific North West and the Columbia River.  It is big, it is mighty, and it is beautiful.  

If you ever fly to Portland, OR, you baggage will include a luggage tag with the initials PDX.  So much easier to write using PDX so…PDX is it from here on out.  Or Portlandia if necessary based on the story told.

Since our arrival, things have been quite ducky if you exclude the truck that came within 2 1/2 inches from side swiping us today.  There is a story that accompanies this event.  As most of you know, the GPS apps aren’t perfect…far from it.  They often trail you just enough to cause you to either 1.  Miss the turn  2.  Decide on the fly to do a death defying maneuver and make a turn on a dime  3.  Ignore the instruction and wait for the GPS to recalculate and get to there via another route  4.  Or start to turn and realize that was not the street name, swerve back to the lane you were leaving while yelling “Jesus Christ, what the hell!!!”

Our experience today was an illustration of number 4.  

Next, since we have been here the weather has gone from cool to hot in a very short time.  And the longest day of year had over 18 hours of sunlight.  At 4:30 this a.m. when I staggered into the bathroom, the sky was pink like a carnation.  

We have been very busy having fun.  Played golf on Saturday with number one son.  The picture below was taken at Elk Ridge in Carson, WA.  

Followed up with lunch in Stevenson where we drank a cherry porter.  They do beer up here in the Northwest.  So creative and delicious.  I liked it.  Rayman was okay with it.  Ryan ordered the RBG IPA complete with the Judges pic on the label.  See what ai mean?  Very creative.  Below is Ryan and beer.

 

 

Went up to cousin’s cabin that lies to the west of Mt. Hood off ZigZag Road.  It was a find of the best kind.  The previous owners left most of their stuff there so it has skis hanging on the wall, forest themed decor, and it is cozy as can be.  We loved it.  Stayed two nights.  Then Sue invited me up for the day as the shingle people were scheduled to “treat” the roof which took the day.  This is a three year requirement to keep the roof in good order.

That was the day that her youngest daughter, Kristen, and her three grandchildren were also at the cabin with Kristen’s friend, Sandy, and her daughter.  Because they were going to treat the roof with chemicals, we decided to go to Lost Lake in Kristen’s Toyota mini-van.  Earlier we had taken the kids to Sandy River which is just a small walk from Green Gables doorstep…Green Gable is the cabin’s name now.  

Here are some pictures.    First the movie I took of Sandy River.  Just click on the IMG 1773 below.

IMG_1773

On to Lost Lake.  I agreed to go if I could sit up front as winding roads make my stomach unhappy.  So, having secured a front row seat, we loaded up and headed out.  Here are some pictures.

So, if you were doing any calculating, the van had 4 children in it.  Oh, and Mango the doggie.  Oldest 9, youngest 5, twins being the youngest.  And they were noisy and boisterous so it became incumbent up on the adults to start playing games.  Mine was, “I’ll buy a root beer float for the first child to spot a live bear” game.  There was an alphabet game.  And then there was the ride itself…a pot hole rich two lane narrow road up and down the mountains to Lost Lake.  

When we arrived at the lake, it was decided that we take a boat out on the lake.  Yes, we jumped into a row boat with oars.  With 4 small kids.  And Mango.  Ezgi, the sweet girl, was afraid.  The others were okay.  As we launched, the arguing immediately started on who’s turn it was to row the boat.  This resulted in us drifting, rowing in circles, and generally being very noisy.  “It’s my turn to row.”, “No, it’s my turn to row.”, “You already rowed.”, “I want another turn rowing.”.

At 25 dB, loud enough for just about everyone on the shore looking and laughing at us.  As well as all the other people in water vehicles such as kayaks, paddle boats, canoes.  At one point, while changing of the guard, we actually ran into another vessel but since we were barely moving, it was not a disaster.  

Okay, so the whining was getting old.  The only one in the boat that knew how to row, was Kristen.  She had been on the rowing team at U of WA for awhile.  Everyone else exhibited their inexperience while acting like they knew something.  It was a hoot.

This lead me to threaten to throw the kids overboard.  The only one that took me seriously was the kid who was a friend of the family.  She did not take kindly to my idea.  She looked up at me and announced, “You’re mean.”  I laughed.  She didn’t.  

So I juxtaposed that if they didn’t want to be thrown in, perhaps I would swim to shore…the whining was that annoying.  The girl said, “Okay.  Swim.”

In the meantime, we were still drifting, going forward, going back and going in circles.  

Then the kids started whining, “I want to go home.”, “Take us home.”, “Im tired, I want to go home.”.  “I’m cold.”   we decided to have Kristen to get us back to the dock while still fending off wannabe rowers.  

We made it.  No one went overboard, no one really even got wet except for their feet.  The kids’ whining which started to resemble  a Salvation Army ringing bell ceased and all was well with the world.  

On the way home, we chose to go back the way we had come though there was another route which was good paved road but an hour longer.  The thought of two hours back in that van just scared the bejesus out of us.  We preferred the pot holes to an extra hour.  So the new game was “I’ll give a prize to the first kid that spots a Bald Eagle.”  And with that Mango rode shotgun on my lap, I played Dee Jay with my playlist for accompaniment for the whining.  Although to be fair, the kids did along to one of my tunes!!

We made it back and I was exhausted.  And I didn’t even drive.  It was a helluva day.  

Here is the info about Lost Lake in case you ever want to go there.  I’m going to drag anyone adult that wants to go up there because the lake is great because it does not allow any motors at all on the lake.  And it is beautiful.

Lost Lake Resort and Campground

No, I’m not referencing that program on TV with Whippy Goldberg.  The ride from Healdsburg to Eureka is my reference here.  

As those of you following our shenanigans, you know we drove to Healdsburg and held my birthday party there at the Chalkboard.  What you do not yet know is that we were nearly, completely hacked in the comfort of our hotel room.

Buzz, buzz.  Buzz, buzz.  Buzz, buzz.  “Hello?”  Silence ensued as the other party was doing the talking.  

“Yes.  Okay.  Our phone number is xxx-xxx-xxxx.  Our emails is xxxxxx@xxx.”  (The real deal was given to the caller.)  

“Dianna, what credit card did you use?”

“WHAT!”, I inquired.  “Just hang up, this doesn’t sound right.”

Rayman, still rubbing sleepy dirt out of his eyes, replies to the called, “Tell you what.  I’ll come down to the desk.  I don’t share my credit card over the phone.”  

Click.  

The story was that the hotel had lost power during the night and they wanted to offer us a 25% discount for our inconvenience but needed the data to “reconstitute” their records as they lost all their data.  

This struck fear in my heart because we came very close to being seriously hacked.  And as the IT in the family, I needed to change the password for my password software.  So, I perused our emails and already, the password program alerted me to the fact that someone one was trying to log into the program, was it me?  

Because we had to leave for Eureka, we decided I would work on the problem in the car while Rayman did the driving first.  That was not the best idea in hindsight.  Trying to change passwords was not easy for a variety of reasons which I won’t bore you with.  On an iPad, the job was much more difficult.  I really don’t like my iPad.  My MacBook is much easier to use but not on the road.  

Anyway, to make a long story shorter, I was beside myself with worry.  And I missed the view every time I had a strong signal.  The day was beautiful, perfect really.  The sky was blue, the wind was almost nonexistent.  No time for computer problems.  

 

The ride through the redwoods was, as always, awe inspiring so we stopped to snap a picture.  It as so quiet in the grove.  Magical.

Oh, and the hotel informed us that “they thought the hacker problem was fixed”.  And yet they didn’t warn their travelers that this had been a problem.  I wrote corporate to share our outrage.  

We flew the coop on May 29th and bucked headwinds from King City to Gilroy.  The trees were bent 45 degrees downward, as the wind whipped their branches discouraging any bird from landing.  Doubt those trees in the Salinas Valley have any nests.  The wind was relentless.  

Sad sights were the plastic bags/strips that had been caught in the clutches of barbed wire, behaving as though they were manically trying to get free.

 

Happy to announce we made it Gilroy at 3 p.m.  By 5:00 we were sitting outside on a very busy road, chomping on barbecued ribs and chicken, while Beau sat beneath the picnic table that held an umbrella that threw shade on exactly no one.  The meat was tough on the ends, the chicken was lacking that smoked flavor but we ate it and were happy to be off the road and sitting outside anyway.

As Rayman tucked me in that night, I asked how long the drive was to Healdsburg.  He reported 5 hours.  So, we devised a plan to get up and get going by 9 a.m.  And that is exactly what we did. 

While driving by the SFO airport, the phone rang and it was my dear friend, Pat, calling to wish me Happy Birthday.  What a thrill.  She lives in Walnut Creek.  Perhaps she felt my presence?  Being a world class reader, she recommended Michael Lewis’s new book, Premonition.  I promised her I would buy when we slid into Portland.   

The drive thru the City did not disappoint.  It was sunny and showing itself off to anyone that looked.  And the drive across the Golden Gate was divine.  Is there a more beautiful bridge?  We decided we would return and walk the bridge.  A bucket list dream of mine and Rayman agreed.  

We had better do it soon.  We are feeling the affects of age as witnessed by the fact that Rayman is out trying to procure a water bowl for Beau.  We left it at the lunch place.  More on that later.

As we blazed thru the Robin Williams tunnel on the other side of the Golden Gate, we saw a sign that indicated Healdsburg was not far away.  What?  How could that be?  Well, it was and we arrived here just after noon.  It was not a 5 hour drive.  How Rayman came to that conclusion was beyond me.  At this point I started worrying about our traveling skills.  

With time to enjoy (read kill), we took a drive around town, I googled a good lunch place while put us at Dry Creek General Store.  It was very busy so we knew it must be good.  And it was.  However, moi, got in trouble.  As I entered the establishment, I ran into a line and so I immediately ran to the back of the line.  And waited.  Behind a couple, man and woman.  We crawled so I had time to notice them.  All of a sudden there was a man in front me.  “Excuse me, but this is not the back of the line, it is back there.”  Well, the snit whipped around and said, “I know that.  I’ve been in line.”

Unable at this point to observe minimal cues in my environment, I said, “I’ve been in this line behind that couple.  I haven’t noticed you here.”  The snit growled, “Well, you must be hallucinating because I have been here. MAM.”  I replied, “I don’t think you were.”  He snarled, “Shall we ask them?”  Thinking I was surely calling his bluff, I said, “Sure.”  He did and they said he had been there.

At this point, “He walks back toward me and says,”You owe me an apology. MAM.”  I was drowning in his snotty demeanor. 

I apologized in disbelief.  How could that be a thing?  I did not crack a joke.  By this time the line was getting close to the bottleneck which was being caused at the cash register.  I looked left and saw another whole line at a deli counter which I had never seen.  So I asked if the people were waiting in this line to order.  “NO.  You order over there.  This line is for paying up.”

As I slithered over to the other line, I think I may have said, “Oh, shit.”  

Needless to say, I may have proved to be the laughing stock of the deli.  

And I still do not know how that even happened.  I knew who I was standing behind.  Am I prone to hallucinations?  OMG.  No.  I am not.  So how it happened I will never understand.  

After lunch we drove up to Sonoma Lake.  Or was it Lake Sonoma?  Rayman had been there with Indians Guides but it was my virgin voyage to this particular lake.  The views were outstanding…huge hills/mountains and deep valleys.  

We drove to the city park in Healdsburg.  It was bustling with folks of all kinds.  And lots of dogs.  It was hot especially because I had on long, warm pants.  People are definitely traveling again.  Our hotels have been quite full, the parks have the full.  The gas stations are full.  

At 3 p.m. we drove back to the Best Western and checked in. I did the honors.  When we arrived at our room, it was totally unacceptable.  The window looked out onto a wall with a walkway in between.  So, I marched back to the office and told them we could not abide that room.  They were kind enough to reassign us to the second floor and an end unit.  When I took the dog to go to the new room, he splayed his legs and would not budge.  He was quite a sight.  Cajoling did not work.  When I tried to drag him, the collar came off.  He stood up and walked.  He followed me all the way to the elevator, got off the elevator and walked to the room sans collar and leash.  An astonishing sight.  And astonishing display of doggie preferences.  

 Somehow, between the first and second room, I lost the keys.  Retracing my steps I found them on the ground.  Once in the room, we could not find his doggie dish.  Hence the new doggie dish.  We left it the Dry Creek General Store, apparently.  Oops.  No we didn’t.  We gave Beau water from the bowl the curried chicken salad was in after we ate it.  So, where did it go?  Another cause of concern.  

Tonight we eat at the Chalk Board.  Hope it’s good.  After all, it’s my birthday!!

 

p.s.  We had the doggie dish all along.  Now we have 2.  Above, please see my fabulous birthday dessert.  Whipped creme fraiche with stewed cherries, lime curd and crunches.  It hit just the right spot!!

 

Several years ago, we took a trip to NZ.  The trip included the making of new friends.  Jim and Mari from Minnesota. 

Since that trip, Jim and Mari have made a point of visiting us here in Morro Bay.  Twice.  The second time occurred this week.  They were in Oceano with their daughter, Missy, and her family which included one great husband and two very “playing in the sand” children.  Being Easter vacation or spring break as some would call it, Mari and Jim’s daughter booked a house right on the ocean (and sand) for a week’s stay.  

Mari texted me and told me they might be the area…Pismo she said.  “Great”, we said.  As the date approached the Oceano address was shared with us and we accepted an invite for lunch (to be served outside).  

Missy excelled in conversation.  One of her questions of us all was, “How did you guys meet?”  

Jim suggested on the street corner.  Mari said, “No.  We met on the train.”  Rayman and I couldn’t remember exactly.  A discussion ensued.  We met on the train.  No, we met at the train station.  No, we met them on the train. No, didn’t we meet up in Queensland.  No it was Christchurch.  

Really, people, it is amazing we were sitting on the deck of this house in Oceano at all.  I guess it is proof that we weren’t always so daffy!!

After a considerable review of surviving memories, we came to an agreement that we met at the train station while sharing a bench while waiting to board the train that would carry us to Christchurch.  I think we met at Picton, on the South Island.  

Mari saved the day.  She remembered the most.  We boarded the train and sat together.  We talked and talked much of the time.  When we disembarked, we head our separate ways without plans to meet again.  A lovely encounter.  

While writing this, I wondered if I had written about our time together in NZ and this is an excerpt from my blog from 2011!!  Read it below.

AND our new Minnesota friends, Jim and Mari (mary). We met them on the train trip from Picton to Christchurch.

Their schedule was very much like ours. So, we invited them to ride with us and take the tour of the Sound, which they did. So, here’s a few interesting tidbits about our new friends. They have two daughters. One married a fellow from Alameda and they moved to Sydney for his work and they are visiting them. Jim has worked for the same firm for 42 years. That’s almost unheard of…and according to my calculations he entered the work force at about age 4. Isn’t that illegal? Mari is a scream. She managed to lock herself into the bathroom near the power generator and before Jim approached the restroom to save her, he said, “Is there anyone naked in here?” He swears that was a question, not wishful thinking. I have my doubts.

Jim loves old cars and heats his garage to 46 degrees so he can work on them. I’m not kidding. 46. I can’t even feel my fingers at 46.

When we were in Christchurch, we ran into them (a very small world) and went to Antarctica with them (the exhibit).

 

While we were there, Jim (works in IT) spent all of our tea time (we took a break) trying to get a reservation made for the Doubtful Sound cruise using his computer. Every time he hit the “purchase” button, something went wrong. I think it was because he was using a DOS based computer. He did not give up. In fact, he missed the all-important feeding of the penguins trying to spend money on a cruise. And he works with computers all day. Just saying.

Oh, I kid Jim. He was a hoot.

But I digress.

As we were driving back from our cruise, we were all high from the scenery. Rayman was trying to perfect his driving skills…when a beep sounded. “What’s that”, Ray exclaimed. ( To save you from wondering yourself…it was the I’M OUT OF GAS warning from the Toyota we were riding in.) “Maybe we’re out of gas! The gas gauge shows empty.”

NZ is very sparsely populated. That is really the beauty of this country. You can drive for HOURS without seeing people. You see sheep, yes. People no. And gas stations are even more infrequent. “My RAV emits a sound and it means I have about 2 gallons remaining.” exclaimed Mari. “We are back at the lake, we’ll probably make it.” pronounced Jim. Rayman said, “Where’s a road sign showing how far we are from Queenstown? Why the heck don’t they provide more signs with distances?” Like that would help, I thought.

“Well, I’m confident we’ll make it”, Jim asserted while Mari added, “My RAV has two gallons remaining when it beeps at me.” To which I proclaimed, “Let me read the owner’s manual.” “Is there a car manual in the glove box?”, Jim wondered aloud.

After flipping through the index and locating the “LOW FUEL ALERT”, it was determined that 1.7 gallons remained and that the car would, in fact, alert us in the event of low fuel. Having delivered this news, “How far are we? Why don’t they post more signs?”, Rayman intoned. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll make it. I mean we’re here at the lake”, Jim suggested again.

Then we came upon a one-car bridge with a traffic light. We had to stop. “OH, GREAT. I DID NOT WANT TO STOP.”, Ray snarled. The light changed. We were on the bridge and I murmured, “If we’re going to run out of gas, let it be here because we will get all the help we will ever need.” Snorting and snarling ensued.

Drifting in on fumes, we arrived at a gas station and it took $97 of fuel to fill the car. Does “just by the hair of your chinny, chin, chin have meaning to you?

Isn’t the driver of the car responsible for the status of the fuel? Just saying…now. Didn’t dare say it then.

The end of the story is more heart rendering. As we drove back, Mari invited us to dinner as a thank you for us inviting them to Doubtful Sound. We thanked them but thought maybe they could just buy us some gas (and in our defense, this was before we knew it would cost $97). So Mari remarks, “Well, it is my birthday”…(yada yada yada). IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY? OF COURSE, WE’LL LET YOU TAKE US TO DINNER!!! She had us at birthday.

So, we had a delightful dinner with Jim and Mari followed by a complimentary dessert because the meat was too tough. Tasty but tough is how we all described it to the server. But it didn’t really matter. We have a perfectly lovely day and dinner and with our wonderful new Minnesota friends. And we sang happy birthday during the half time of the Rugby World cup semi-finals in which the All Blacks held off the Wallabies…and then we hugged goodbye.

I think they were going to the bungie jumping place today to watch. Personally, I was planning on a major collapse. This involved sleeping in, eating breakfast late, publishing my blog, writing my new blog entry, having a progressive dinner and then throwing myself into be at 7:45 to relax, regenerate and repack my suitcase for about the 25th time so that we can head out tomorrow back from the most southern place I’ve ever been to Auckland for 2 nights, then Sydney for 2 nights and the, OMG, back to LAX on Saturday (which will be Friday for you) which I have marveled before allows us to take a 15 hour flight and arriving before we take off. And the highlight of all this just might be that Air New Zealand safety film at the beginning of our flight back to Sydney.