Last Posting

We arrived in the San Antonio KOA ready for a Tex-Mex-Fix, and we got it. Lynn’s brother and sister-in-law live in the heart of the city, and they know all the best spots. The four of us feasted on nachos, enchiladas, and all that delicioso stuff!

By the weekend, we were home, and immediately connected with family and good friends. Unpacking the motor home was a process, and it is still going on, but it has not been difficult getting back to our Houston routine. Everyone asks us, “Well, would you do it again?” Our answer is probably not for that long, that far away; but it is a strong call, that of the open road, and we never know where it will take us.

Thanks for following our journey. We hope to see every one of you soon.


Tripometer: 123 miles from Junction to San Antonio, then 188 miles from S. A. to Houston.


TOTAL miles to Oregon and back: 5,760

September 14, 2007

Even after all these years, we can sometimes get into a “fine mess” – like this morning; we were all set to leave Santa Fe; we pulled out of our space at Los Campos RV Park, and drove to the exit. We did not know there was another drive way for exiting, and found ourselves in the “Entrance Only” going the wrong way. Five motor homes were checking in, and we could not go around them, nor could we back-up with the jeep in-tow. The other drivers had that what-is-this-idiot-doing expression, and we could only wait until everyone had checked in and moved out of the way; or we could un-hook the jeep, back-up the motor home, and get it right this time. Just as we unhooked and prepared to back up, the other motor homers moved up far enough, so Tom could drive out the entrance – I quickly followed, avoiding the unsympathetic stares, and we hooked up a few miles later.

Buzzards, skunks, scorpions, tarantulas, rattlesnakes, and bats – charming country this is, from Southeastern New Mexico down into West Texas. How did the ranchers and early travelers to this area manage to survive? In fact, except for the stunning vistas, why did anyone settle here? They also had to contend with hot temperatures and ............cactus!

Tripometer: 4923 (Drove 278 miles to Carlsbad, N. M.)

We camped in Carlsbad, N. M., and hiked the caverns (no entrance fee with Tom’s “Senior Pass”!) Walking through this enormous underground space is cool enough (no pun intended), but we really wanted to see the bats leave at sunset, as they have done for eons here at the “natural entrance.”

Along with about 200 spectators, we sat silently in the amphitheater watching the bats emerge from the cave, circle around and around the opening, then siphon-off in groups flying over the countryside to feed on insects. The ranger had informed us just before the bats appeared, that many decades ago there had been millions of bats, but now there are only about ¼ million bats that call this cave “home”, hanging from the ceiling all day, and flying 2 miles in the inky blackness to the cave opening at day’s end, to begin their nighttime foray. I really want to meet the guy who figured out how to count one-quarter million bats! – “one bat, two bats, three, four, five bats……..”

(The photo shows the cave opening before the bats emerged. Photos are not allowed while the bats are flying because it interferes with their echolocation navigation.)

The park has an “Adopt-A-Bat” program, where for $5, YOU can name your OWN bat, receive a photo of him/her along with a certificate and bat-information sheet! AND you can come visit your bat anytime! That is, if he/she hasn’t migrated south. If I adopted a bat, I would name it “Masterson,” or “Boy,” or “Aerie.”

We always know when we have crossed the Texas state line, even without the welcome signs; bugs really are bigger here, and they love the front of our bus. The six-legged kamikazes make tic-tac-toe patterns on the windshield. (Where is a bat when you really need one?)

We have finally returned to the right time zone. It feels like I never really adjusted to Pacific Standard Time, OR to the altitude of the Oregon Cascade Mountains.

LOVE these roads where we are the only travelers. On Rte 54 between Guadalupe Mountain National Park, and Van Horn, Texas, we shared the landscape with dust devils, tumbleweeds, miles of yellow-bordered roadsides, and only a few trucks. At Marfa, we stopped just to see La Paisano Hotel, which housed the cast of “Giant,” (Rock Hudson, Liz Taylor, James Dean) during the filming of this 1950s blockbuster. But we opted to stay in the stunning Davis Mountains at the state park of the same name. Also in the park is Indian Lodge, an adobe-style CCC inn built in 1933. It is a beautiful, peaceful, stop for those traversing vast West Texas, and a delightful destination in itself.

Tripometer: 5148 (Drove 225 miles to Fort Davis, TX)

Monday, September 17, 2007

This is the second time we’ve stopped at Balmorhea State Park, and both times we’ve been whisked in by a rainstorm. The first time, the park was full of campers, and we watched as tents, towels, and camping paraphernalia were blown across the grounds by sudden high winds, accompanied by a deluge. This time, in early fall, there are only three other campsites occupied, so the wind gusts, downpour, and jagged lightning did not cause as much of a stir, though it rattled Lynn a bit.

As the rhyme goes: “It’s raining, it’s pouring; the old man is snoring.” So when the rain stopped, I awakened Tom from his nap.

We walked around the campground and the natural springs pool.
At first, the water looks like a an enormous U-shaped swimming pool, which, in fact, it is; but, the floor is natural rock, ranging in depth from 3 feet to 30 feet. It is fed by underground springs, and has at least two species of fish – we observed minnows and catfish. The temperature stays 78° year-round, and people not only swim here, but snorkel and scuba dive as well.

After the rain, blue sky returned, and presented us with an awesome Texas sunset.

Tripometer: 5183 (Drove 35 miles to Balmorhea St. Pk.)

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

I-10 is a loooooong monotonous stretch of highway, especially after you leave the mountains and plateaus behind. At Junction, we stopped for the night at South Llano River State Park. This is a wonderful location for serious bird watchers.

We are on our homeward stretch. After our stop in San Antonio, we will be home, and our Oregon Trail adventure will be over. Our final posting will follow in a few days.

Tripometer: (Drove 268 miles to Junction, TX – S. Llano R. State Park)

Getting Closer to Home

September 10, 2007

As we left Longmont, it was cloudy and rainy. Then just as we crossed the New Mexico border, the sky turned blue with fluffy white clouds. Temp - 75°.

There is a most interesting place in a few miles south of Raton, New Mexico. Heading in the direction of Philmont Scout Camp, Tom was eager to see the NRA Whittington Center. Rolling hills and numerous valleys full of mule deer comprise this enormous enclave of shooting ranges.

We pulled into the motor home campground, alongside several of the competitors (also camped) of this week’s “1000 Yard” shooting competition. My eyes widened as we drove by one campsite where a competitor was cleaning his equipment right there on his picnic table: rifles, sights, clips, stand, the whole nine yards.


Tom could not resist. He paid the daily fee ($15) and we drove to two of the several ranges designated for pistols. Tom did well; he hit two silhouettes, and a bull’s eye; and on that note of victory, we quit.

September 11, 2007

We are camped almost right next to the Santa Fe Trail (in fact just ½ mile from us is a statue of a scout on the actual trail. We were amused that the statue was Charlton Heston portraying a "scout" on the trail; he has figured prominently in the history of the NRA).

Sunshine and open road beckoned. So we went to explore Raton, NM, and Trinidad, CO, and observe the architecture of these historical towns. Adobe and brick dominate the old buildings. Trinidad has blocks and blocks of bricked streets. Both towns have beautiful vistas of the mountains, valleys, and plains that define this wild, rugged area of northeast New Mexico and southeastern Colorado.

Hail greeted us as we returned to our NRA campsite. In this open country, rain can be seen from miles away. After the hail, the sun came out, and Tom took the opportunity to wash the car and motor home. But more rain was observed heading our way; it arrived; then, a double rainbow appeared. The temperature dropped, and our electricity went off. Listening to thunder in the distance, I knew this weather pattern is ­standard procedure here in early fall.

September 12

On the road again, we had a reminiscent visit to Philmont Scout Camp. Tom and Brian were here in 1990 to backpack for 10 days in the mountains with Troop 125, while Lynn and Katie attended leadership training and day camp.

As we had anticipated, the old motor home turned 100,000 miles on the road to Philmont. Those who know us, know we are proud to own our vehicles until they pretty much bite the dust, so we were sure to document this event.


We stopped in Cimmaron to have breakfast at the old Saint James Hotel. a major landmark on the Santa Fe Trail. It has an impressive roster of visitors– Wyatt Earp, Jesse James, Annie Oakley, Bat Masterson, Buffalo Bill Cody,and Doc Holliday to name only a few. At least 26 people were killed in “shoot-outs” in the 1800s in this wild West locale. We explored both levels of the hotel, seeing photos of these outlaws and lawmen; but we were not visited by the “ghost” that is said to occupy Room 18, which is padlocked, and never rented out. There are several bullet holes in the tin ceiling of the old saloon and dining room. Everything is well-restored; this is a wonderful historic place to find and explore.



Then on to Santa Fe, one of my most favorite places in the world, where adobe houses and western scenery dominate the landscape in this unique, fascinating town.




First on the order of business here was to find someone who repaired Roman shades, since one of ours had broken, leaving us “exposed” on our port side. Tom called around and found David, who asked us to bring the shade to his home on Upper Canyon Road. His house was built of adobe, tucked into the side of the canyon, quite rustic and quintessential “Santa Fe.” It was located at the end of a day-care parking lot, down a dirt road. David was was 60ish, had long graying hair, and worked many jobs, window shade-repairing being one of them (he was also a DJ for events, and a property manager). We left the shade with him, and went to dine at Diego’s, David’s recommendation for the best Southwestern cuisine in Santa Fe. He was right.

September 13


Up the highway from Santa Fe is the village of Chimayo. There you will find the beautiful little Sanctuario de Chimayo, the Catholic church renowned for it’s “healing dirt.” It is a peaceful, spirit-filled place which we revisit whenever we are in this area. The town is also known for weaving shops that recreate original Chimayo Indian designs in rugs, cloths, and clothing.

Then we explored Los Alamos, New Mexico, where the atomic bomb was created by the world's most renowned scientists, resulting in the end of World War II. This town is dubbed “the town that never was,” due to the fact that no one working or living here was allowed to indicate that this army-created town on the remote plateau existed at all. Everyone’s mail was sent to a Post Office box in Santa Fe. Children born at Los Alamos had the Santa Fe P. O. Box number listed as “Place of Birth” on the birth certificates. It was a massive secret undertaking by the United States, that proved successful in that it ended the war – but it also opened up an era of frightening destruction. We passed by the Los Alamos High School and noted they were called “The Hilltoppers.” Tom said, wryly, “They should have called themselves “The Atomic Bombs.”

Later, in the evening, we picked up our Roman shade, completely restrung, at David’s workshop, and experienced again the simple beauty and solitude of his Santa Fe canyon-side lifestyle.

At least 15 years ago, Lynn found a quaint item here, and has been looking for more of them ever since - and thanks to a savvy shop owner on the Plaza, we were directed to a "flea market" that he thought might have this item of interest. Friday morning, we went there and yes! the tin can candle holders were there; except, the artist had painted them. So we ordered several "natural" ones to be sent home to Houston. After that, we looked at the myriad of merchandise at "Jackalope-Artesanos" on Cerrillos Road (take note shopper friends, don't miss this place!), but I had found my "grail", and really did not need another thing.

We left Santa Fe, knowing that we'll want to return when we can, not to do any special thing, just to experience again the environment of colors, charming architecture, and very nice people .

Driving through Roswell, New Mexico, we saw the high school, and wondered what their mascot was - the "Aliens" ? We continued south to Carlsbad, where we stopped for the night. (This town's high school mascot is "the Caveman.")

Departing with Fanfare

The four of us drove up to Mount St. Helen’s where the volcanic eruption in 1980 left a huge gaping hole, and reduced the size of the mountain several hundred feet. Destruction could be seen in the forests and rivers for many miles around. After 27 years, though, the forest regeneration is progressing well in many of these areas.
Northward, we continued to Seattle.





When I described Mt. Hood earlier as “jaw dropping,” I had not seen Mount Ranier. This sight as you round a curve in the interstate will render one speechless ……



Bob knows Seattle well, and drove us all through this beautiful city. We stopped to walk through Pike Place Public Market, and the Fish Market. Here, customers select their seafood from the open counter out front, (for example halibut or mussels). The fish clerk then throws it over the counter to be caught by the clerk who wraps it up. The thrower yells, “TWO POUNDS OF MUSSELS!“…..(toss); then all the clerks yell back “TWO POUNDS OF MUSSELS!”



We saw so many great sights, buildings and locales – like the Rose Garden!





A lovely town, Seattle – you should visit there if you get the opportunity.






We also liked the pleasant community of Gig Harbor - a quiet, pleasant, family-friendly town, with lots of people “messing around in boats.”



We extended our visit one more day to see more of Portland, and prepare for the long trip home. The weather was clear and cool as we saw downtown, water fronts, West Hills, West Linn, and many other great sights. Include some days in Portland on your next trip to the Northwest.



We said goodbye to our most gracious hosts, and we all held our breaths as Tom backed up the motor home, and turned up the steep hill which had to be rounded. He gunned the caterpillar engine and roared up the slope, blowing his air horn as he went. I quickly followed in the jeep, and we “hooked-up” on a level stretch of road.



Departing is so much more fun with fanfare!

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The drive through eastern Oregon was beautiful following the Columbia River. I tried to spot Mount Hood, but there were too many darn mountains in the way! We stopped at Wildhorse Casino in Pendleton, Oregon. The trick to staying overnight in a casino parking lot or RV Park is avoiding going into the smoky casino itself.
But, when you register, they give you discounts on the breakfast buffet, so of course we went for breakfast in the morning. And of course the route to the restaurant wound through a maze of slot machines.

We toured the Pendleton Wool Mill, and saw the raw wool being cleaned, carded, spun into thread, and woven on huge looms into beautiful blankets. After that, we were on the road again.

At Glenn’s Ferry, Idaho, we were happy to rediscover Three Islands State Park; we had stayed here a few years ago.

A lovely, quiet park, our site was large and grassy, and only $10/night. This location on the Snake River is very historic – the largest and most difficult water crossing on the Oregon Trail. Walking to the river, we flushed two coveys of quail, watched a flock of pelicans flying maneuvers over the lake, and listened to the symphony of millions of bugs.

The sun was setting on the mountains – in this place, all was right with the world.


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September 7, 2007

After 520 miles of driving, we stopped at Raulings Flying J Truck Stop, and parked way far away, we thought, from the 40 or so trucks already parked for the night. When we awoke, early the next morning, to start on the road, we were hemmed in by eighteen-wheelers all around, inches away from our windows! Then the driver on our left pulled out, and Tom was able to wiggle us out of there.

September 8

We arrived in Longmont at noon and began our visit with Ann and Adam; Laurel is presently on tour with “Up With People.”

September 9

We drove to Estes Park for the Scottish Festival. The majority of people attending wore tartans, and kilts – even the policemen on their Segways! Food, dress, culture, sports, language, and even dogs - it was a total celebration of everything Scottish.

September 4, 2007

This is our last view of Crater Lake. Our adventure here is over for the summer. The season is winding down, the boat tour operations will be shut down soon, and Tom had an opportunity to end his contract early. Our last night there, we drove to the East Rim to see the full moon rise over the water. Earlier that day, we closed our phone service, turned in our mail box keys, said goodbye to some great new friends (hoping we will cross paths somewhere on the roadways), and even found time to drive to the Pinnacles, an area of this magnificent park that Tom had not yet seen. There are still some trails not hiked, and one day we hope to return. But if not, our experience here has been full and beautiful.

We “lit the fires and kicked the tires,” pulling out of Mazama Campground for the last time. Heading north we drove that narrow, nail-biting rim road past the cliffs and rock strewn mountainsides, past the “Cleetwood” turn-off, through the Pumice Dessert, and out the North Entrance.

Our first stop was Sisters, Oregon, which is about 30 miles from Brothers, Oregon. I kept looking on the map for a “Cousins,” or “Great-Aunt” Oregon, but didn’t find those. After a quick tour of High Desert Museum, we stayed at the Sisters City Park, a lovely park in a sweet, unique town.

Great Horned Owl, at the High Dessert Museum

We jeeped a few miles to Camp Sherman, where the headwaters of the Metolius River are found. This locale is “deep in the woods” and retains its 1930s appearance and “feel” – a charming General Store, cabins dispersed between tall pines, grandpas and grandsons walking to the river with fishing poles and tackle.

Then there was the tortuous drive through the mountains to I-5: you know when you’ve chosen the wrong route when there are signs every 50 yards stating in order - “Rough Road, “ “Sunken Grade,” “Slow,” “Rocks,” “Slides,” “Bridge Work,” “Caution,” “6% Grade Next 11 Miles,” “Check Brakes ¼ Mile,” “Loose Gravel;” and then the signs repeat........... “Slow,” "Rocks," etc.

Successfully arriving at Eugene, Oregon, we overnighted at Coburg, and met up with Tom’s school friend, Barbara Marsh Friedson, and her husband Jerry. Barbara had tracked us down through the Brenham folks. It was fun to catch up on all the family news, and the paths life had led them on, post-Brenham High School.

On Friday, Aug 31, we drove back to Portland and managed to park the motor home on a little strip of road beside Bob and Peggy’s house. We had driven here for a visit just two weeks ago. Everything went fine “docking” beside their house, but the severe grade of the side street will make it most interesting to see how we get out of there. Meanwhile, we have had some great meals and fun excursions around the Northwest. Next post will include Seattle (“Pike’s Place Fish Market”!), Gig Harbor….. and more…….as we meander our way home.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

How is it that we find ourselves on this dark, winding road following the Rogue River, at 4:30 in the morning?! As it happens, we are enroute to a dental appointment in Grant’s Pass, and must be there by 7:30 a.m. I had relatives who farmed, and arose everyday at this hour. Trips into town had to be well-planned in advance. I think we are beginning to understand this planning skill that is necessary for living in the wilderness.

With Tom’s tooth all fixed up, and the rest of the day and the next free, we opted to drive a few more miles down the road to Ashland, a college town known for having the oldest Shakespeare Festival in North America. Ashland is settled in a valley – people here have taken a lesson from nature concerning living on the edge. Neighborhoods built into steep, rocky slopes on one mountainside, have stunning views of the mountain range across the valley. Some cling at precarious angles, like the tenatious trees and plants on the caldera wall at Crater Lake. Ashland is rather like a west coast version of Eureka Springs, Arksansas. But in Arkansas, people are generally midwest conservatives; in Ashland Oregon, liberalism is the mainstay. Most of the businesses appear geared to 1) World Peace; 2) Vegetarianism; 3) Acupunture and massage; 4) “Artful” (?) living, 5) Candles and “Aromas;” 6) Inner Psyche Evaluations; and ………theater. Ashland is renowned for its Shakespeare Festival.

We walked through the Elizabethan Theater, which was designed loosely on the Globe Theater in London, where William Shakespeare staged his plays. We opted to attend the play, “The Compleat Works of Wllm Shkspr (Abridged)” in which three actors attempted to perform Shakespeare’s entire works in just under two hours – with hilarious results. At one point the actors presented “Hamlet” in reverse –

“Yorick – poor, alas!”
“Be to not ......... or be to.”

After some walking around, a couple of garage sales, and a few errands, we left this quaint Oregon town, and returned home to our site in the woods. It was refreshing to leave the heat of the city (83°!) and the traffic, and the car lots and malls; the drive upstream along the Rogue River was a welcome sight.
As the moon waxes toward full, and the evening temperatures require a substantial jacket, we enjoy nightly walks to the amphitheater to hear the ranger programs. Tonight, Ranger David Grimes presented his topic, “The Wild Wild East.” It was an informative, creative “tour” of the East Rim Drive, which is experienced by fewer than 1/3 of the visitors to Crater Lake. His descriptions were right on; we have observed the wild beauty of this side of the lake from scenic viewpoints, on hikes, and from the boat.

Nature Note of the day: The white-bark pine tree can live 1300 years! Unlike other conifers, its cones do not open up. The propagation of this tree is entirely dependent on the Clark’s Nutcracker, a bird that drills the seeds out of the cones and buries them for winter meals. White-bark pine trees grow from the seeds that are not retrieved. They can be found at the highest elevation in the park; and the Clark’s Nutcracker is, fortunately, as ubiquitous as the ………………uh, the golden-mantled ground squirrel.

Road Report

Trajedy struck this morning when a golden-mantled ground squirrel ran under the right front tire of …… a jeep…….. enroute to Rim Village, and flattened the furry rodent. Although dozens, hundreds, even millions (it seems) of these critters cross the road every day, fatalities are rare. The driver regrets the incident.

Midnight on Wizard Island

Tom was really looking forward to 4 days off. The day before, he went to work as usual, at 6:45 a.m. He always returns around 7:30 p.m. but when 8: 30 came and went, I began to worry, and by 9 p.m. I had the jeep keys and was about to begin search and rescue. Right then the phone rang – it was the office informing me that Tom had radioed from Wizard Island where he and the mechanic and the boat operations director were completing repairs on the Rogue, one of the tour boats. They did not expect to be finished for a couple of hours.

Wizard Island, named for its resemblance to a wizard's hat, is actually a cinder cone on the opposite side of the lake from the boat dock. It harbors the tour boats over the winter. There is a trail leading up to the crater atop the cone, and a dock, but there are no other amenities on the island.

Tom said he stayed on duty to drive the crew out to Wizard Island where the new engine was awaiting installation. As with any repair, there are always unforseen problems that come up, and it always takes longer than planned.

Early on, the winch that secures the Rogue to the track in the shed, broke, and sent the Rogue sailing down the slope into the lake with an awesome splash!




After the work was done, they still had to drive across Crater Lake in the dark, (they had search lights), tie up to the “hook,” dinghy to shore, and then, of course, walk the mile-long trail up to the rim. Tom was one tired and hungry captain when he finally got home at midnight.


It took a full day for Tom to rest up, but the day after that we drove 5 ½ hours to Portland for a 2-day visit with our friends Peggy and Bob, whom we have known since the early 1970s in Houston.


We dined at Edgefield, a marvelous restored building that was the County Poor Farm in the early 1900s. The restoration was done by the McMenamin brothers, who have “saved” many old structures in Oregon that otherwise would have seen the wrecking ball.


The next day we drove along the Columbia River Gorge, made a quick stop at beautiful Multnomah Falls, and ended the drive at Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood. From the highway, many miles away, the first time Mount Hood at 11,239 feet comes into full view, the sight is jaw-dropping. Peggy describes it well, saying Mount Hood is the definition of the word majestic.


Timberline Lodge is an incredible example of the 1930s W. P. A. projects. The building and décor were accomplished exclusively by local wood and iron workers and craftsmen. The Lodge is built around a massive hexagonal stone structure rising the full height of the building. The column houses six fireplaces on two levels. We walked around and around observing the unique details – woven drapes (using the colors of the wildflowers on the mountain), hooked rugs, rawhide chairs, railroad rails fashioned into andirons and quite substantial boot scrapers. The Blue Ox Pub on the first level has stained glass murals of Paul Bunyon and Babe.


Gnome door:

Timberline Lodge, on majestic Mount Hood is a locale not to be missed by travelers to the Northwest.


We packed up for our return to Crater Lake. Our gracious hosts fortified us with a scrumptious breakfast that included fresh blackberries from the patch across the street. And we have a list of many more destinations for our next visit here.



¬Giving Babe a pat.




There is nothing interesting or humerous to relate about a toothache, so I’ll not go into detail, except to say that Tom is in quite a bit of discomfort, and finding an accessible dentist in this wilderness is a challenge! Hopefully, it will all be taken care of by next week, and I’ll not need to mention it again.