Deserted our Desert

Tarde becomes noche view of San Miguel from our roof top terrace

Great tickets, a great casa and, VAMANOS, the Snow Buzzards are off to Me-he-ko. And Frank made it possible, our friendly caddy shack dude slash two week Sevi and house sitter.  Tad will join us next week for Dia de Accion de Gratis and stuff your face with turkey tacos.  Boy, do we have some adventures awaiting the lad!

This is a ceiling, folks.

Today began with a leisurely walk down to Cafe de la Parroquia where we enjoyed our breakfast of pancakes(!) and scrambled eggs and chorizo in a festive courtyard with wild parrots above.  Next, we hopped a bus to Atotonilco, famous for UNESCO World Heritage Site-protected church marketed as having the "Sistine Chapel of the Americas."  Actually quite lovely but definitely a s-t-r-e-t-c-h from its namesake.  Although it is public transportation the bus driver took great pride in his "ride" and made his own sistine out of the driver's nook.

Not missing a beat

San Miguel's Jazz Festival isn't in the same league as those in the more publicized cities of Toronto, New Orleans, Monterey but there's something pretty sweet about sitting in the Jardin at dusk in shirt sleeves at a free outdoor concert Thanksgiving weekend. (Try matching that Earshot Jazz.)    At the conclusion of our stay the three of us listed our favorite aspects of the trip.These were the resounding favorites: our home and the home of some pretty old bones- Casa Chepito and Canada de la Virgen.  Our casa-

Entrance

Just inside

Terraces galore

Canada de la Virgen opened to the public less than a year ago.  It has nothing to do with our northern neighbors; Canada (with a spanish wave action over the n) means gully.  A forerunner to madonna on toast was the image of Guadalupe seen on a piece of rock in said gully located 30 minutes out of San Miguel.  Our tour guide, a transplanted archaeologist from Looousiana, worked the site and told compelling tales of human sacrifice, bones of an ancient leader carried from town to town for over 100 years before finding rest at the Canada, and intellectual property theft by a Nazi sympathizer gully owner.  Oh, the intrigue.  Add to that a remarkably restored archaeological site which only a few years ago could have been mistaken for a small vegetation covered hill and you have arguably a rival to an Indiana Jones tale .  (Remember commentary before "arguably?" sigh...)

The Temple

The Treasure Seekers

The Arguments

Rentonian Duane investigating

Case closed and

please pass the guac.

It may be Hot but it's a Windy Hot

There is so much happening at Lake Tamarisk these days that we don't know which way to face our chairs. 

7am and already pumped

The new solar project near Eagle Mountain relies on pumping water from the Lake Tamarisk reserves and transporting that water in tanker trucks to their site, ten miles northwest on Kaiser Road.  From 9am to 10am one morning we counted 8 tanker trucks coming and going from the former golf course driving range.  Not to be outdone neighbors across the little Lake Tamarisk had an enormous dumpster delivered this morning.  More activity that needs our scrutiny!

New dumpster delivered

And someone in our family is not content with just watching.  She can't let the garden just grow but keeps poke, poke, poking at it.  Note to self:  get DB a swivel chair for Christmas.

New bed needs filling

Back in the Desert

(Which we missed!)

Our route from Twin Falls, Ida-nowhere, to Lake Tamarisk, Califor-nowhere took us past Hoover Dam. Listening to NPR en route we learned that Nevada is the most urban state in the country so it was with delight that we entered Las Vegas where more than one out of four Nevadans live and where 60% of the home mortgages are underwater, and that has nothing to do with the proximity of the dam.  Las Vegas is a happening spot.  The week before we arrived a Nascar accident at the Motor Speedway took the life of 33 year old Dan Wheldon , the night before the Republican presidential candidates had a televised debate there, and a couple of days later Obama dropped by to talk about jobs, a bit of a gamble considering the influx of unemployment since sweeping the state votes three years before.  Our only gambling involved switching lanes during the rush hour urban commute and trying to take our UHAUL with us through the Hoover Dam security check point. (DAMN! We got turned away from the dam.)

It was with great interest that I read about Interstate 50 which runs west/east bisecting the state.  We crossed  I50 near Ruth, home of one of the world's largest copper mining pits, and took SR6 and then SR318 south through desolate high desert.  At one point the Nevada State Tourism Board dubbed I50 "The Loneliest Road" in a effort to entice travelers from the famous Route 66 which runs basically parallel to I50 but one state south.  (Unusual marketing ploy if you ask me.)  Judging from the color and thickness of our route on the map compared to this tourist magnet and the lack of urbanity sighted we took the road less travelled than "The Loneliest Road."

Being turned away from Hoover Dam allowed for an early afternoon arrival at Lake Tamarisk.  Driving from Boulder City to Casa Verde the car thermometer topped out at 100'.  Gas prices rose 50 cents a gallon as we crossed into California.  Other than a new solar project minutes out of Boulder City we mostly saw a lot more nowhere.  Oh, and a potential investment opportunity near Vidal Junction.

Solar project Boulder City

Rice Road from the Desert Center/Rice Road Junction

Definitely there's a cluck to be made here!

Snow Buzzards Have Flown!

Slow go over Snoqualmie Pass

Had to park Buzzard Mobile and UHAUL and walk through the Drive IN

Yes, leaves are dropping with the temperatures.  We've had to turn on the furnace and buy gift wrapped fireplace logs.  Sandals are off and socks on. Obvious signs that it's time to pack up and head out for Year Two South of the Moisture Barrier- THE BUZZARDS HAVE FLOWN!

DB's gift of the new edition of "Road Food" doesn't disappoint.  The Westside Drive In is run by Boise TV Foodie Chef Lou Aaron and the choices he presents make a one meal stop pretty dang frustrating.  What to choose?????

Hey, that's us!

Guac/chix burger with thinly sliced lettuce, onion, and cucumber.  Nice choc shake, too.

Good to be on the road and on the road food again.  Idaho is a great southern route.  The Snake River makes occasional appearances along 84 as we leave Oregon at Ontario.  We pass fields of hops, corn, potatoes, and onions.  Sometimes they pass us.   Idaho is ranked 11th in geographic size and 39th in population compared to the rest of the United States.  One and a half million populate the entire state. Not sure about the animal to person to dirt ratio but we noted two cement factories,  several feed lots, and few out of state auto licenses.  (Big score was a Virginia motorhome and Louisiana truck in the find the 50 state license game.)

Ahhhhhhhhhhh

The Schooner Adventuress: Coupeville to Bellingham, WA Part One

         We couldn’t see the double masts of the Schooner Adventuress peeking above the building at the end of the long Coupeville wharf where we’d seen them the night before.  Now, a little after five in the morning we couldn’t see much beyond the pier through the mist and rain but we knew the ship should be there.  DB, Sally, Rob and I were to travel the Coupeville to Bellingham leg of the People for Puget Sound voyage on the Adventuress marking the 20th anniversary of the organization.  This eight hour voyage was heralded as the most spectacular of all the legs because it included traveling through Deception Pass, the treacherous narrow opening between Whidbey Island and Fidalgo Island through which many a ship had spun out of control by powerful currents and tidal forces and crashed against the adjacent basalt cliffs.

Publicity photo of Deception Pass noticeably lacking

RAIN, MIST, and FOREBODING

As a child I’d been warned about the dreaded “Deception Pass” when cruising with my family from our Whidbey Island beach cabin and that was the reason the four of us were shivering on the pier at the crack of dawn because the tides wouldn’t allow a safe passage later at a more respectable time of day.   I had many misgivings that morning; the least of which was the absent schooner.  We’d celebrated my 63^rd birthday well beyond my normal bedtime the night before and we’d celebrated with numerous toasts.  The weather was typical PNW: wet, cold, with a forecast of more to come.  We’d been advised that all food served on board would be vegan and no alcohol allowed.  Green tea with a spritz of cayenne wasn’t going to do it for my head and stomach both of which were staging personal coups.

“It’s not here; let’s go,” grumbled Rob.  “Oh, come on, it’s gotta be near” Sal replied leading us out on the pier.  Each of us pulled our coat hoods tighter as the rain noticeably increased.  Two other travelers snuggled under the roof overhang of the wharf building awaited us at the end of the pier.  “Waiting for the Adventuress?” “Yup,” they replied in unison and took sips from their cans of Red Bull.  “There it is,” Sal blurted, pointing to a bank of mist out of which the tall masted long narrow shape emerged and slowly made its way toward us under diesel power.  “Oh, they must have needed to anchor further down Penn Cove,” Sal remarked cheerfully.  “Well, it’s too cold and too wet and I’m not going,” Rob responded, voicing my thoughts.  “It’ll be an adventure,” Sal countered.  And it was. 

Does the unnamed person in the middle look like she's enjoying her adventure?  Notice the careful route plotting in the foreground and super tanker in the background.  Thanks to Josh, PPS board member, for documenting this moment.  Our camera was left at home with hats, mittens, red meat, and the other ten essentials. 

  

   

The Schooner Adventuress: Coupeville to Bellingham, WA Part Two

People for Puget Sound isn't an entirely humorless non-profit organization but it's hard to keep your sense of humor when battling for legislation to protect this essential body of water from a myriad of destructive forces threatening its health.  I won't list the number of ways this organization is working to better educate and instruct in positive Puget Sound management but urge you to visit their website (pugetsound.org) and read for yourself.

Likewise, Sound Experience (soundexp.org) doesn't joke about environmental issues affecting our "Salish Sea" nor do crew members of its Schooner Adventuress take lightly ship board responsibilities and safety.  If you are looking for deck chairs and cocktails don't venture toward the Adventuress.  On May 15, 2011 the six shivering passengers who boarded ship at Coupeville, Wa, on that dismal, cold, morning needed strong coffee and some cheering up.  But nobody laughed when Rob suggested changing our destination from Bellingham to Oahu and nobody answered where's the "Yo, ho, ho and a shot of rum in the java?"  With the sails stowed and the 133ft schooner motoring at a mere 7 knots,  with unrelenting rain and mist obscured islands,  with dark clouds above and still six hours to go I couldn't imagine the ship pictured below.

Historic Schooner Adventuress not pictured on May 15, 2011

Now here was the Schooner Adventuress that would warrant a loud "Oh my, I'd love to be aboard that."  But that ship was nowhere to be found.  Also missing was the skinny little girl who used to swim in Puget Sound until her lips turned blue, and her cousin Nancy who could fish with a hand line for sole from the anchored dingy "Clamshell" off the family cabin bulkhead for hours rain or shine, and the jovial professor Rob telling Irish jokes, and the hardy Hobie Cat sailor making the Three Tree Point to Vashon run on a December afternoon.  They'd been replaced by four whiney, soaked to the skin, grumpy old wimps who barely managed to keep from slapping their 20 perky and passionate fellow shipmates as each told name, reason for being on board, and favorite hot beverage, during the icebreaker friendship circle held in the rain on deck after breakfast.  (I never knew there were so many ways to prepare chai tea!!!)  There was one light moment when it was DB's turn and he announced that his name was Duane and he was an alcoholic.  After "muster" we were informed that now we would all do ship chores until lunch.  I think I heard Rob whimper.

"When does this story become happy?" you ask.  It becomes happy when Nancy scores the chore of washing breakfast dishes in hot hot water in the toasty ship galley.  When Sally finds we can trade in our not rain-proof, not rain-resistant but rain-absorbent jackets for the extra rain slickers stashed in a storage locker on deck.  When black rain boots are offered to replace soaked Mary Jane exercise shoes. When DB and Rob inhale the cinnamon smell of freshly baked coffee cake.  When the perky and passionate laugh at our jokes. When pouring becomes sprinkling becomes drizzling becomes misting.  When dark clouds lighten,  and fingers warm.  And finally, when someone who will go unnamed, gets to play skipper.

Big cheers to People for Puget Sound and the terrific crew of the Schooner Adventuress.

 

Snow Buzzards Find Snow- in Issaquah, WA!

Happy girl

Somewhere along the route through southern Oregon the warmth stopped its journey north.  Still wearing our desert clothes we were spotted in a bakery in Bandon, Oregon, as "tourists."  An older woman wearing long jeans and a wool sweater strode up to us and identified our tan but shaking knees.  "You've got to be tourists," she remarked.  Pointing to the group of warmly dressed gray hairs at a window table she continued, "We haven't worn summer clothes in over two years."  The happy group waved at us looking like a joint advertisement for AARP and REI.  The coastal town had a warm feel about it despite the cold temperatures.  After sharing one cinnamon roll and one cup of coffee we were encouraged to take a to-go cup of coffee.  "Free refills, you oughtta take advantage," the cashier chirped.  So we did and vowed to return.  After leaving Bandon we gave Sevi a beach break at the Oregon Dunes near Florence.  All three of us tromped sand back into the car.  

Our first rain

All was quiet as the Snow Buzzard mobile speed north
on I 5.  Each of us contemplated the impact of our decision to return to the Pacific Northwest in early April.

WELCOME BACK, SNOW BUZZARDS.

We weren't surprised by the dark clouds above the Seattle skyline nor the puddles in our driveway but postponing a dog hike in nearby Issaquah a couple of days later because of snow made us seriously question our re-entry timeline.  

Pointing a Finger at a Redwood

Babe and Friend

Much of the Redwood Highway hasn’t appeared to change since we traveled this route 35 years ago.  The redwood trees are still spectacular, tie-dye clothes and sand candle shoppes appear along the road. You can still find towns that     advertise trees you can drive through,  road signs warn that trucks may tip over at speeds above 30 mph and you find interesting entrepreneurial combos like the Laundromat/Smoke House we saw in Laytonville.  I could tell that DB was eager to find a roosting spot when he refused to take more than a picture stop at a couple of stupendous roadside attractions.

Buzzards on the Fly to SF

Visiting Kiddos in SF

After breakfast with Tad at Sally's, a super tasty restaurant and deli at the base of Potrero Hill in SF, the Snow Buzzards continued north over the Golden Gate Bridge leaving behind at bit of their hearts and taking with some fresh memories of a pleasant weekend on the bay. We stopped for gas in Hopland, CA, on the Redwood Highway and saw that the old Hopland High School was now a wine bar and tasting room.  Excellent priorities!

Since closing up Casa Verde and departing the land of sun and sand for the land of rain and moss we've been delighted that the sun has decided to accompany us. Our first lodging after Desert Center was a hip little oceanside town north of Santa Barbara on Highway 1.  Morro Bay offers restful beach bungalows, local oysters, and a dog friendly beach.  We tried all three.

Sevi doing the happy run

Sleep tight sleepy town

There was a slide blocking Highway 1 so we cut inland for some greenery and pinkery, fields of artichokes and roadside swaths of ice plants.  This part of SoCal is mighty inviting: lots of surfers and bicylists and a little glassblowing factory in the town of Harmony, pop. 18.  The rueben sandwich we shared was disappointing but the coastal views of cliffs where farmers tilled above massive surf beaches made up for the Whale's Inn lunch.

Tad and Julienne are perfect hosts.  Julienne gave us use of her studio apt, complete with Murphy table and ready to make morning coffee.  Tad organized a pizza dinner in our honor with friends at Goat Hill Pizza with drinks before at Boomers.  Sevi was taken on a Bernal Hill hike and beach play dates with Ziggy.  But even before all this we were treated to Friday night gourmet sausages and beer and Saturday morning breakfast at the Sunrise Café in the mission.  Of course,  Tad and I made a coffee run to Philz where Phil himself greeted me with “You’re just like Santa;  you come once a year and we’re happy to see you.”

Julienne continues to play soccer and her Saturday game was conveniently at the base of Potrero Hill.  It brings back memories watching her play with Joyce Ohgi in the same positions they played together in middle school.   

Distributing oranges at half time

 Sunday brunch was dim sum delight and the evening meal was at Sara’s beautiful home in Oakland.  After DB’s Kauaiian pulled boar sandwiches prepared by Tad we sat around the campfire on Sara’s deck under her 500 year old live oak tree and retold the story of the Dew Claw Man who escaped from Alcatraz. 

Dim Son and Dim Dad

Julienne and Sara 

Happy Feet