ONE wild ride for TWO crazy wandering adventurers, who managed to change THREE tires during FOUR half-baked days of travel.
On a sunny Friday morning, after checking out the local Russian Orthodox Church's yard sale, Dave and I pulled out of Port Townsend. On our left the Hoods Canal, a branch of the Puget Sound, sparkled in the early days sunshine. Ahead of us highway 101 paved the path to the South. If you ever have a chance to spend time on this road there is a reason it is designated a scenic byway. We passed large spans of estuary scanning the flats for Great Blue Herons, wound round romantic inlets and coves harboring small sailing boats and fishing skiffs and crossed an occasional river destined for the Sound. As we "trolled" over the Dosewallips River we were presented with a magnificent vision, a large Roosevelt Bull Elk was taking his breakfast surrounded by his harem of ladies. Neither cows nor bull was bothered that the road was no more than twenty feet away, as they slowly made their way along the river heading for higher ground in the Dosewallips State Park. Roosevelt Elk (for those who don't know) were named for Teddy Roosevelt. Our 26th president created the Olympic National Monument, now the Olympic National Forest, in an attempt to preserve the habitat of these native herds. What a great way to begin this trip!!
But the unexpected comes in all forms...
"Gutless Wonder", as we affectionally call our Ford, was driving smoothly making excellent time on the wavy road to Olympia. With the coordinates for our next destination programed into the new GPS I watched Olympia come and go, then Tumwater passed without incident. "That's tire rubber", I thought as we rambled along the Interstate. A car passed us by with a little boy in the front seat starring at us, his eyes as wide as saucers. "Honey, I saw rubber fly did we pop a tire?"
Sure enough one of the trailer's tires had shed its tread. While Dave was getting us up and rolling I searched for the closest Les Schwab on our handy dandy global positioning system. In no time the static female voice was issuing directions towards a new spare tire and lunch in Chehalis. It's just a shame the unsettling new technology we've incorporated into the truck couldn't come with the voice of Majel Barrett Roddenberry.
Our new helpful navigational system has no idea we are pulling our home along with us, so when I programmed in MULTNOMAH FALLS, for a letterboxing detour, instead of directing us to the oversize parking off I-84 (which I later learned was available) she kindly took us off the interstate and along the old historical gorge road - gorgeous, romantic, but narrow to very narrow, especially over a few bridges. As we approached the Falls we quickly discovered there was no parking for our giant snail. Stopping was not an option, we had to continue moving forward. A large sigh of relief passed across Dave's lips as we reached the entrance to the freeway. Lesson Learned: Not all routes chosen by little black box are appropriate for large vehicles. Stay off thin grey lines found on physical map.
"Well it was a pretty detour", observed Viewing Vanessa
"Yah, pretty scary", replied Driver Dave
With misfortune behind us we pointed the rig into the wind and headed for Pendleton. The flat of the gorge however was misleading and instead of making up for time lost we tacked on more hours and ate up more fuel. The Columbia River Gorge is in actuality a long gradual up hill climb that never really ends. The voice from the dash directed us to our evening abode. To unwind I read, Dave watched a movie and Sackett snaked out from under the covers to join us for dinner. With the fan blowing on low we fell asleep under the city stars. Now it really feels like we are on our way.
Good Night Dave,
Good Night Sackett,
Good Night Moon.
The moonbeams shine through the window resting their star light on our quilt...But wait! That's no moon, that's the halogen lighting of the Wal-Mart parking lot!
To Be Continued...
photo is of my grandparents Bill & Winnifred Pow (1920's)
