Inklings

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  • Mighty Redwoods

    It’s an understatement to say that the California Redwoods are large trees. They’re huge. Massive. Enormous. Mighty. No picture I’ve ever seen or taken will do justice to the experience of actually being there. It’s something everyone, especially those from the flat lands of the midwestern prairie, should experience for themselves.

    We hiked several miles on a number of trails that wound through the del Norte Redwoods. I’ve never seen such a thriving, lush forest in all my life. Dense forest surrounded every trail and in most cases you had no idea where you were headed or where you had been. Redwoods stretched upwards into the cloudy morning mist making them appear endless. The forest floor was carpeted with ferns, young sprouts, broad leaf clover and moss. We observed fallen redwood trunks (possibly hundreds of years old) with mature redwood trees growing right out of the bark. In some cases the roots would eerily finger down several feet to gain a fertile foothold. The only thing that was not green with growth was the crushed gravel path we walked on. We also observed several living redwoods that had ashen black burns on portions of their trunks. I doubt that these singed trees were the victims of selective arson, but lightning strikes due to their extreme heights.

    Any fallen Redwood that crossed the trail was obviously carved or cut away by park rangers. Being able to see the diameter of some of these tree trunks really put into perspective just how large they really are. Unreal.

  • It’s Not Always Sunny in California

    I guess none of us should have been too surprised when we arrived in Crescent City, California – unofficial gateway to the Redwoods – and instead of a vibrant, tourist-friendly, sunny, seaside town we found a dreary, cold, and foggy downerville. I mean, we were in the Pacific Northwest and the Redwoods have to sustain their height and constant moisture somehow but this little community had little to offer in the way of tourist entertainment, not counting Ocean World (it’s like a distant tenth cousin to Sea World, thrice removed). We later learned from a friendly local that the once vibrant logging and fishing industries of the area are failing and the only thing keeping the community going (aside from the scant bits of tourism) is the maximum security Pelican Bay State Prison (with whom said local was gainfully employed). Turns out if you’re an unsuspecting tourist or a gangster thug in deep doo-doo (we’re talking the worst of California’s worst) this is where you’re incarcerated. Yep, a veritable paradise.

    All things considered, we did have the best motel in the area – right on the ocean front – just a stone’s throw from Battery Point Lighthouse. Great views from our third story patio to the beaches below. This would represent the depth of our western exploration and a three day stay awaited us. Our five hour trip along coastal highway 101 brought us here and to top things off we were desperately searching for exciting ways to celebrate our oldest son’s eleventh birthday. The best we could come up with was a night out for dinner in town.

    I should mention that we’ve kind of made it customary, when traveling abroad, to patronize the local eateries to get a bit of the culture and tastes of the region and avoid the franchise food that we can get anywhere. So, we let the birthday boy, with some encouragement, choose a local dining establishment. Within minutes we found ourselves parking in the lot of the local Pizza King only to open the front doors, scan the room (the three customers and two employees simply glared at us), reel back from the unappetizing smell and turn to leave. That night, out of necessity, we drafted an exclusionary clause to our travel dining custom. Pizza Hut never tasted better.

  • First Pacific Encounter

    After a long day of driving through Washington and half of Oregon we bedded down in Newport. There our boys caught their first glimpse (and freezing cold touches) of the Pacific Ocean. I have to admit that I expected milder temperatures, but it was really quite cold. The locals assured us that this area is always sweatshirt weather with highs barely breaking 65˚ in the summer.

    For most of the evening we walked the beach outside our motel room. It was a surreal experience to say the least. Most of the time you couldn’t see more than twenty feet in front of you because the fog was so thick. The dry sands, however, were toasty warm. You could literally see the condensation occurring; it was like walking through a cloud. It looked more like how you would describe a dream: you could vaguely make out the people and the area, but the details were real sketchy.

    We did get a break of sunshine while visiting Yaquina Head’s Cobblestone Beach. There we observed the powerful waves pound the rocky headlands and explored several resulting tide pools. The boys were transfixed with the many different colors of sea stars, the abundant mussels and various sea anemones. But nothing seemed to turn their heads (or stomachs) more than the large harbor seal carcass decomposing on the beach. The rangers were kind enough to put orange cones around it so that we wouldn’t feel tempted to climb on it.

  • View from the top

    We ventured back downtown on our second day to visit Seattle’s most familiar landmark – the Space Needle. Not only is it an architectural marvel but there is some interesting history behind it. Bottom line was it offered the best view of the city and surrounding area with Mt. Rainier poised majestically in the background. The waiting line to the observation deck elevators was intimidating, but the trip to the top was worth it. We were taken up in time delayed groups, but thankfully we could stay as long as we liked.

    After a long debate about where to eat lunch, we ended up back at Pike’s Market (much to the boys’ chagrin). We finished our day by taking in the Science Fiction Museum and Experience Music Project. The boys raced through the museum (there was a lot of reading and topics outside of their interest and familiarity) but thoroughly enjoyed being rock stars at the EMP.

  • Red Sox top Mariners

    Our first day in Seattle we took the Link to downtown. After spending the better part of the morning exploring the many wonders of Pike’s Public Market (fish throwing, anyone?) and forcing the boys to endure the hardy sea harbor smells, we hit the stadium district and about a million fan stores looking at licensed sports merchandise. There, our youngest fell in love with a variety of plush long arm monkeys sporting apparel from every Seattle area team. He insisted that this would be his most prized souvenir. We managed to talk him out of the ridiculous looking animals only to repeat the process upon entering the next sports store when he’d spy another display of them.

    The evening ended in probably one of our most memorable evenings while in the Emerald City… the boys’ first major league baseball game. We enjoyed picture-perfect weather at the impressive Safeco field and a great game. It was fun to see the Red Sox take on the home team and squeak out a victory. Not even ‘Ichiro the Hero’ with his goofy stance (albeit effective for his solid hits) would be enough this night. Our oldest, decked out in his Red Sox shirt and cap was cheering loudly for Boston. Our youngest… well, he was simply looking a bit confused in his Ichiro t-shirt and Red Sox hat but was having a good time being a baseball fan.

  • Idaho Panhandle

    Thursday morning we left Missoula early for Seattle. It was another eight hours in the vehicle the boys would have loved to avoid, but surprisingly they’ve been very good sports about the long drives. For sanity’s sake we decided to stop in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho to stretch the legs and eat some lunch. We ventured into town and parked near the lakefront city park.

    For whatever reason, our youngest is fascinated with seagulls. It may have been the pent up frustration of being stuck in the vehicle for so long, but as soon as he saw those gulls he was running after them screaming and yelling. Those poor gulls. I’m sure they’re used to getting crumbs from passers-by and here’s this kid chasing and trying to kick them. I’m sure the locals thought we were loco. After a couple hours of adequately stretching the legs with a hike along the shoreline of this beautiful respite, we piled back in the vehicle and continued our westward trek into Washington.

    Eastern Washington was an interesting place. The topography and climate were certainly unique. It was kind of like North Dakota with no tree rows mixed with some desert Wyoming sagebrush. The high winds that day were blowing dust everywhere making the sky the color of sand. Within fifty miles of the coast things really started to green up and the Cascades started blocking our view of the horizon. Our first extended stay, Seattle, appeared out of nowhere sprawling throughout Puget Sound.

  • KOA, A-OK?

    After spending 12 hours on the road Wednesday we bedded down at the KOA in Missoula. Western Montana is beautiful country, so it seemed like a no-brainer that the KOA there would be comfortably situated in the most scenic area of Missoula (we stayed at a KOA near Glacier National Park two years ago and it was incredible). And it most likely was… 20 years ago. It was a little disheartening to unwind in an uncharacteristically crowded campsite after being cramped in a vehicle for so long. Not only was each Kabin nearly on top of the next, but the entire campground was sandwiched between a trailer court, a condo development and a shopping mall. It’s like the community had absorbed the campground. For us Midwestern flatlanders who feel crowded with a population density of two people per square mile we couldn’t leave fast enough.

  • Vacation

    Well, we’re hitting the highway early tomorrow en route to California. By way of Montana, Idaho, Washington, and Oregon. We’ll spend a few days in the Emerald City before heading south to see the mighty Redwoods. It’s a lot of driving for ten days, but I’m anxiously looking forward to a change of scenery and a chance to recharge. A day more and I doubt my suitcase would handle it.

  • Arguing

    Most days having two kids is a blessing, but let me tell you, when they argue it’s like poison. It’s that point of the summer where the day-to-day routine and close proximity is starting to wear on each of our boys’ patience (and ours, for that matter). The one phrase that tends to get uttered more than any other lately has been just three words: ‘Oh. Yeah. Right!’ The venomous nature of how it’s offered up is itself a verbal challenge posing as an answer to a rhetorical question. When the debate reaches this point you can almost start counting down to when the fists start flying. In less than two days they will get to spend a LOT of quality time together sitting just inches apart on our longest vacation road trip ever. I know it’s wishful thinking but I’m positive they won’t argue a bit.

  • Grilling

    There are few things in summer that beat grilling. I’m not exactly a grill connoisseur, but nearly everything seems to taste better when it’s cooked over an open flame. Not only is it an excuse to dine nightly on BBQ-friendly fare like dogs, brats, burgers and steaks but grilling outside keeps the house from heating up.

    We recently purchased a three-burner gas grill (with more stainless than our silverware drawer) to replace our old rusty Kenmore (literally, there were huge gaping holes in the grill tines).To make the new grill feel more at home we’ve given it its very own brick paver patio and keep it covered up when we’re not using it. For the novice griller like myself, it’s great – BUT I know the die-hards out there are chanting, “char-COAL! char-COAL! char-COAL!”

    I remember the charcoal grill we had when I was just a kid. For some reason I don’t recall the superior flavor of anything that was grilled on it – just the amount of effort it took to prepare this primitive outdoor cooking appliance. Dad would methodically erect a pyramid of charcoal briquettes to ensure a stable heat cone and guarantee equal heat distribution. The care and time taken to do this seemed inversely proportional to the time it took a steady stream of charcoal fluid to knock them over (I can still smell that stuff). Match after match were sacrificed and cursed until the pile was lit. After all that work, we still had to wait for the briquettes to change into those red hot glowing snowballs. Then using tongs, dad would again methodically spread the pile out to ensure a wide but concentrated heat source.

    Grilling the meat du jour was also a process. Noting the hot spots and using the dead zones for simmers was crucial and unfortunately different every time, so you weren’t able to memorize and get lazy. The griller had a full-time gig. He had to be quick with the spatula, tongs and the knife (the slice test was often needed to determine if meat was cooked properly). No sir, grilling with charcoal was work!