Friday, July 22, 2011
Bandon, Oregon to McKinleyville, California
Down the road today, first stop is Crescent City, California.
This is a lovely little city that Jan and I visited in October of last year. It is a sort of Tsunami magnet, probably because of the shape of the Bay that sort of gives the city its name. Photos and posters and plaques abound in the town, showing the origins of Tsunamis in sea-floor plate shifts that displace massive columns of water, and the effects in the forms of boats deposited many blocks inland from their wharfs. the recent earthquake and tsunami (harbour wave, in Japanese) in Japan didn't really affect the place as the tide was out when the wave struck. But if the tide had been high, say the locals, there would have been mass destruction.
There was a morning sea-fog when we arrived, just in the process of burning off, and the little island that holds the lighthouse was shrouded in fog. But, by the time we walked down to the beach the fog was lifting and Bob and Celine and I walked to the lighthouse, an island at all but low tide which it was now. Accross the dry channel, up the little hill looking and snapping pictures as we went, the fog lifting and mysterious shapes resolving themselves quickly into everyday images. Jan, who stayed behing as she wasn't wearing safe footware for the passage, talked to a biker who was travelling the coast taking pictures of lighthouses. So many interesting people out on the road.
Later, returning from the lighthouse, I snapped his picture for him as he stood with the lighthouse in the background. A big guy, maybe 6'2", around 250 lbs, wearing leathers and a 'do-rag' on his head, his chrome bike parked at the curb, he was a good guy to chat a moment with before the pictures. But for the pictures, useing two separate cameras, his 'biker persona' emerged. He stood like a rock statue, hands clasped in front of him, chest inflated, head up and eyes slitted, mouth a thin line, an intimidating pose if ever one existed. I snapped, 'one more, you blinked', snapped another, switched cameras, snapped again. Finished, he relaxed his pose, took back his cameras, and was again an animated and interesting guy. Why the posing for the camera?? I don't know. People are fascinating, aren't they.
Then for lunch at the 'Good Harvest' cafe, where Jan and I had gone for dinner on the last trip. Excellent lunch, carried to us by a server who had all of the personality of a stone from the beach. We left a good tip anyway, it probably isn't his fault that he's brain dead.
Then on the road again for the run down Hwy 101 to McKinleyville to Bob's daughter's (Denise) place.
Easy ride down the road, then pulled in to the shopping center to get wine and beer and munchies for us and Guiness for Joe, Denise's husband. And ... Apples for Ruby the goat and two bags of dog treats for the dogs and a bag of cat treats for ... the cat, of course. Then down the road to their home, though they were working and wouldn't be home until 5:30pm. On arrival we were met by Lucy, an older black dog. Then barked at by Sophie, a younger black dog. And ignored by Max, an elderly Siamese-like cat. And Bob and I went to look for the goat, I with my bag of apples in hand. We got to the fence, really the pen where the goat was kept, but no goat. Bob went further into the yard and discovered a goat-sized grave, Oops, Ruby must have gone to meet her maker and to join her brother Zipper who passed on a few months before. Sad for Ruby and Zipper, and Bob who liked the goats. He would go there and work on the property and then feed the goats with all the trimmings from the yard. And they were Namibian Goats, who are big animals and could eat a lot of yard trimmings.
Bob and I walked back to the house with the news, and Celine was sad that the goat had passed on. The four of us rallied, and ate our munchies and drank our wine and beer and played with Lucy and gave her some dog treats. Max came around too, and got his share of cat treats and lay down in the sun again to nap. With the arrival of Denise and Joe, the party got going in earnest and the barking Sophie was let out of her pen. She has the enormous, unbounded energy of a pup and raced to and fro barking and leaping and licking and chasing anything we would throw for her to pursue. I can enjoy that kind of play all day, and eventually left the human company for the dog company and threw balls for Lucy and Sophie until all three of us were worn out. You know the game is over when the dogs no longer retrieve the ball, or in Lucy's case walk back with it rather than run back. Both dogs were panting like mad, tongues extended to maximum length, drinking water with sloppy enthusiasm. Max ignored us and lay in the sun; cats are smarter but don't have as much fun.
Later, Denise and Joe prepared a truly superb salmon dinner and the six of us sat and chatted afterward, and Joe played his mandolin and sang some songs. The dogs lay about on the floor, in doorways of course, and Max was happy in a cardboard box that he has adopted. It was a lovely evening, in a lovely happy home, and they made us feel like part of their family. We were happy.
Then my cell phone rang, with news from home. Bad news, from Garry about his wife Marion, and the six of us then began to make plans for us to return home as soon as possible. Various thoughts were brought forward, including Jan flying out directly or in the early morning, but all were rejected by the group in favor of Jan and I simply leaving early the next morning for home, with Bob and Celine staying with Denise and Joe and then flying home. All thoughts were with Marion, and a more unselfish and truly sensitive family would be hard to imagine. With sincere thanks to Bob and Celine and their family, and our appreciation of their selfless gesture, we all retired for the evening and the anticipation of an early morning departure. All of us were sad to end the journey we were on, and the reason for ending it. But, that is life.
