Bellingham to Anchorage 9/3-7





Queen Charlotte Sound beyond the islands--4 hours of open water, but only gently rolling on this trip.

Gliding to Alaska at 20 miles per hour has much to recommend it.  Especially after driving some 4,000 miles.  Here are some pictures of the first full day on the ferry.



Bella Bella (literally very pretty)

 







At the end of the day I had dinner with Steve Linbeck and Patti Ginsberg.  They were also bringing a new car to Anchorage.  I enjoyed their company.  Here is a story about recently deceased Ted Stevens.  At the outset of the Falklands war he was asked if he approved of Britain retaking the islands.  He said yes, but he would recommend an invasion of the Argentine mainland. 

Here for you cruise ship lovers is a panorama of downtown Ketchikan taken on the second full day of the trip.

The weather closed in for the rest of the day.  But about dusk on the Wrangell narrows I looked closely for the land we bought 40 years ago at a state sale.  I think I was able to identify it.  It does not appear to be adversely possessed. 

Here are some scenes of the third day in Lynn Canal. 




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A nose, not a fluke.

Mission Carmel?

Steve joined me for a round of golf at Haines.  A very scenic almost ready made course.  After our round the owner, Stan Jones, a retired MD, gave us a brief geophysical history.  Stan has been a riparian owner along the Chilkat River for many decades.  The course is built on 93 acres that were added to his property by isostatic rebound (tidelands rising to uplands due to the weight of glaciers being removed). He showed us pictures of bears carrying salmon along a fairway and of thousands of euchalon (hooligan) stranded by a high tide on one of the greens.

Reached Haines junction just before dark and had dinner at a Chinese Restaurant with Steve and Patti --the upscale Raven was full.
The next day I got up early and drove to Beaver Creek for breakfast at Buckshot Betty's, a shack with a slanting floor and muddy parking lot.  The rest of the town seemed shut down. I asked the waitress if she was Buckshot Betty--she didn't look the part--she said no but Betty was on the phone and I could talk to her if I wanted.  I declined.  All the breakfasts came with a plateful of diced potatoes.  Mine sustained me all the way to Anchorage.  Here are pictures of the van at the Yukon-Alaska border beyond Beaver Creek.



 You can see that I had an extra reason for stopping at this photo opportunity site.  Almost immediately upon crossing into Alaska the scenery becomes spectacular and stays that way all the way home.  The drive from Haines Junction to Anchorage took 14 hours.  But the van is very comfortable and I wasn't especially tired.  When I walked in the door, Donna, like Maya, gave me a warm welcome.

Tualatin--Bellingham 9/1-3

 In Tualatin I picked up the new Sienna (it took 3 trips to Gladstone because on the first day there were no floor mats and on the second they were for a different configuration) got new tires for the Subaru and cleaned it up, and out, and golfed at Island Greens and King City (a place for 55+'s, but everyone I saw seemed 75+).  Most notably though I visited with Maya and Holly and Filip.  Here are two father and daughter stills in which a family resemblance seems apparent. 





serious business




tickle business



As I write I am trying to add some movies, but for now at least the upload is not allowed.  I'll try amending this post later to add them.  (Success--see and hear below).

On the third I drove to Bellingham.  Interstate all the way.  Toward Tacoma it became quite crowded but still fast.  Sometimes I felt like I was in the blue angels with a truck 18 inches off each wing and no particular training.
 Fairhaven is the section of Bellingham where the terminal is located.  It reminds me of Port Townsend both in architecture and tone.  Persuaded by the lovely proprietor at Magdalena's cafe, I tried the cucumber soup.  Dining al fresco, it was delicious.  Here are two pictures of Fairhaven. 

When I drove aboard the Ferry Columbia I was instructed to drive onto a lift that would raise the van to a mezzanine deck and to set the emergency brake.  I complied.  But having been lifted, releasing the brake was necessary.  This was an unfamiliar and difficult experience, especially in the dark of the deck with an attendant yelling.  I groped around on the left under dash and managed to release the hood and the gasoline door.  After an embarrassing delay I repressed the brake and that did the job.  North to Alaska.

Ontario--Tualatin 8/29--9/2

Crossed Oregon on blue highways.  About seven summits.  Here is Brogan Hill summit between Vale and Ironside.   

Stopped to read an historical marker at Unity.  Something about a feud between Baker and Malheur county residents over a ditch taking our water to them.  Took this picture hoping to capture some mountain quail that were in the garden.  The picture seems ok without them.

The east slope of the Blue Mountains out of Unity is nicely forested with big orange-trunked pines.  There is little undergrowth.  Very park like and pretty.  No picture of this.  The next picture looks west from the Blues to the Valley of the John Day River. Here is a pretty little place in Mitchell, in the Ochoco Mts.  They don't take American Express or Visa, but the BLT is generously made.  The shack is across the road.   

Before Mitchell the John Day River flows through a canyon with sheer rock walls.  I proceeded through Prineville, more forest than farm, Sisters, beautiful forest intensely developed, over the Cascades and up the east side of the Willamette Valley.  Passed from Sublimity to near Needy  (no kidding) till it made sense to cut over to Tualatin.  Lovely farmland, and quite a lot of land burning going on as part of seed cultivation, I think.  Creates smoke beyond nuisance levels.  I regret I did not stop for more pictures.  Saw a coyote in a foggy meadow after sunrise near Vale, a rock formation west of Mitchell that looks just like The Thinker  (did Rodin travel the Oregon trail?) old Amish appearing buildings, Yoder's Store, and Gribble's barn and much more that was worth recording.   Called Holly from Freddy's in Canby, and brought a pizza for dinner.  Was greeted by Maya when I walked in the door with a full body three minute smile.   

Ontario OR 8/23-29

Fished and read at the ranch for the last four days.  I decided to learn how to take videos with my still camera.  The enclosed is my try taken from the bridge over the creek.  I'm including it despite its obvious deficiencies, because it shows some of the beauty of the place.  I sometimes can't believe it exists.  This is Ames at the boundary pool.  When he worked his way to the upper end I told him "you are going to catch a big brown right here."  Then a big head rose and sipped in his fly.  I knew because that had happened to me in the same spot on the two times I had fished this pool.  This is a 17 inch brown trout resting in the shallows after being released.I left the ranch yesterday.  At my suggestion Ames changed his point of departure from Butte to Twin Falls, saving about 300 miles. ( I suggested Idaho Falls but something was lost in transmission and both are on the way.) So on the interstate till past Boise when a reasonable blue highway option was available, thence on to Parma,  beets and hay but no cheese,  across the Snake on a low bridge, no canyon here, to Nyssa OR, home of a huge onion packing plant, and up to the farm town of Ontario.  In Parma I passed the Motor Vu Theater, a drive-in theater with current features on its marquis.  I wonder if its the last one standing.  I hope to reach Tualatin today, if I can do so without using the interstate.  Driving"s no fun there and there are interesting alternatives.   

Dillon 8/22

Here is an entry I wrote yesterday at the ranch, hoping to simply incorporate into the post.  I'm not able to do this, so I'll retype it.  It covers 8/19 to 22.

Russ and I travelled from Phillipsburg to the ranch mostly using blue Highways:  Over a divide from Anaconda to the Big Hole.  Then up Wise River and over a divide into Grasshopper Creek, then over twenty miles of gravel to Grant, on the interstate to Dell, and Big Sheep Creek Road.  The Wise River portion was especially pretty--forested with a medium size clear river and many National Forest Campgrounds that seem hardly used.  A tempting place to park a camper for a week.
 

At the ranch Russ and I fished upstream on the 19th.  I wanted him to show me the stream improvements that we paid $26,000 for. They are not very obvious.  About all we could do was guess that here they had deepened the channel, there they had built up the bank, and elsewhere partial rock dams were laid in the stream.  But the stream is greatly improved.  What part is due to the healthy water flows of this year and last and what is due to construction is hard to say.

The fishing has never been better.  We fished together, alternately trying promising runs and caught fish in almost all of them.  The next AM we did the same thing from the bottom of the lower meadow to about half way up with the same results.  Here are some pictures

How nice these seem.  And how nice it was to fish again with my old friend.  I could not help thinking that after fishing with Russ over a 45 year span, this could be the last time.  I think that awareness of this possibility makes the present even sweeter. 

On the afternoon of the 20th we took a walk to the mouth of Patterson Canyon.  The BLM has taken down the shearing shed.  The old bath tub is also gone, perhaps taken for a Levitra commercial.  In the evening a run to Lima for take-out pie and ice cream--dessert for the Caesar salad main course.

Yesterday after Russ left I took a walk up Woodpile Canyon.  Saw a pair of large owls guarding their nest.  They flew close but did not strike me.  Also saw bear sign, a rarity for Sheep Creek.  Today another hike.  And I finished Amy and Isabelle, a very good book I thought. 

That's what I wrote yesterday.  Today I'm in Dillon on the way to pick up Ames at the Butte Airport.  I write this in the basement of the public library, having played 9 holes of golf.  Yikes I'm late. 

Valley View to Brooks to Montana 8/14-19

Reaching the prairie, I felt inclined to push through to the ranch without dawdling.  One long day to Brooks,  a stockyards town I sensed, and another to the ranch.  I did find a wonderful shortcut, eliminating a wrong way salient on the interstate toward Great Falls.  Here is a vista of this fun way.

 Reached the ranch in a thunderstorm.  Just as Tom was talking to a guy who had been fishing on our property.  He had several fish on a stringer.  But he may have been legal as Tom did not see him out of the stream bed. 

At the ranch I got a call from Ken's brother Al.  He said he would be up the next day to pick up a horse trailer.  Should he bring a tent or was the bunk house free.  I told him they should use the other bedroom.  They arrived the next evening.  two grey guys my age dressed in coveralls and feed store caps.  I offered them food, no, something to drink, no, pillow cases, not necessary, and set out towels, not used.  The rhythm of their conversation was like I heard at grandfather Matthews.  But as I expected, they were not country Bumpkins.  Al is a plant scientist specializing in sunflowers. He has consulted all over the world,  a world of Fargos as he puts it.  Ron was a professor at U of Wyoming for more than 30 years.  His field (forgive me) forage crops.    I wish I had a picture of these two country gnome scientists sitting on the couch, but I was reluctant to ask.  I enjoyed their visit. 

Drove yesterday to Phillipsburg to fish with Russ and Robert.Robert is working here on a fire crew and knows the area well. Here we are next to a falls on a forest road.  The fishing was fast and enjoyable on a small creek.    

There were white moths everywhere at the first stream we fishedThe picture doesn't do the actual scene justice.  They were like snowflakes or something mythical.  I half expected a unicorn to step into the clearing. 

Pink Mountain to Valley View 8/14

Golfed today in Ft. St. John.  A links course, so they say.  The term I think refers to a golf course laid out with minimal disturbance to the land.  Just planted and mowed and some traps thrown in.  Fort St John is nothing like it was 46 years ago.  Then it was a tumble down store and a couple of decrepit gas stations.  Now it's two or three miles of strip malls in full bloom.  Much like Wasilla, both then and now. 
The countryside is changed too.  It was forest, now it's hay and grain fields. 
 Valley View is in the prairie.  Real breadbasket country with lots of wheat, barley and rapeseed.  But woodlots too, as you would expect of a country that was once forested. 

Not much of a blog so I am adding another never before published picture.