Then and Now
In 1947 my Grandpa Noall wrote a book about his life titled "To My Children". In the book he tells of some of the missionary experiences he had while serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, the Mormons, in the Sandwich Islands, Hawaii. He tells of getting an assignment which would take him to the Kohala Conference on the Island of Hawaii. It was 1886 and he and his missionary companion, Elder Farr traveled by steamer from Oahu to the island of Hawaii.
“Elder Farr was to be my companion. After a short journey from Oahu by steamboat, we landed at Honokaa on Hawaii. Our course was to lead us down the coast as far as the city of Hilo. Since we had no special headquarters in this conference, our procedure was to walk to a branch of the Church on Monday, and spend the week visiting, teaching and proselyting there. Some good family, usually that of the branch president, would furnish housing and meals for the two of us, and transportation – a mule or a horse or both.
When we reached the city of Hilo we were in the last city of our conference. We found it a beautiful place with a harbor that could have rivaled that of Honolulu. It had a population of about 10,000 people. Its annual rainfall was about 144 inches, as compared with about 29 inches for Salt Lake City. The verdure was superb. The fern fronds grew more than twelve feet long, and here, in the wilds around the city, we found the coffee plant growing vigorously.
While walking along the road we stopped to examine an ancient lava flow which had ceased but ten miles short of the city, and then, the natives said, only because of the sacrifice of many pigs and chickens, which had been thrown into the lava stream in order to appease the anger of the volcano god.
Before retracing our steps from Hilo, Elder Farr and I decided to visit the volcano Kilauea, which was twenty-eight miles farther along the road. But now we had only one mule between us, and only fifty cents apiece in our pockets. We therefore decided to employ the “walk and tie” method of traveling. One of us would ride approximately six miles, tie up the mule, and travel on afoot. The other, catching up with the mule, would take his turn at riding.
We traveled over some rather new lava fields which looked like great fields of plowed ground, had the plot used to dig these furrows been fifty times the size of a regular dirt plow. We also saw evidence of the gradual disintegration of lava fields through the crackings and sloughing of the rock. This allowed ferns and other forms of plant life to thrust tiny roots into the myriad crevices. The decaying of this life, mixing itself with the decayed rock, would gradually form soil. We could not help being impressed by the visible process of nature’s changes in the earth’s surface.
Reaching the “Volcano Tavern,” we, being ministers of the gospel, appealed to the proprietor to supply us with lodgings, food and a guide, which he graciously did. Early the next morning the guide took us over the floor of Kilauea. The pit of the crater was nine miles in circumference and 1,000 feet deep. The floor was the color of black lava and was comparatively level, but it was cracked as a great mud puddle cracks when it dries in the heat of the sun. In Kilauea’s pit the cracks, running hither and thither, were about an inch open at the top and six or seven inches deep. They were fiery red at the bottom. A wooden walking stick, thrust into this red crevice, would burst immediately into flame.
We traveled northeast across the pit to a hole about fifty feet across and one hundred feet deep. It was called Halemaumau – or the House of the Gods. Peering into it we could see the black lava floor of the pit, and we could hear the thump, thump of the molten lava boiling up against the dark floor below us. At times the boiling mass would burst through its air-cooled crust, and then it would rise in this hole until it filled the pit. Sometimes it even ran slightly over. Then a tourist, being present, could thrust his cane into the stiffening mass and drawing it to one side could press a coin into the lava which he could then chip off and keep as a souvenir. Needless to say, even had Halemaumau boiled over when we were present, Elder Farr and I would not have tried this game. We kept lifting our feet as we stood by the pit to keep our shoes from burning. Kilauea is, perhaps, the only active volcano in the world so docile and accommodating as to allow an intimate study of its crater”.
For the “Now” portion of this post, read my post of "Day 8, Sunday April 18, 2010" on this blog. Needless to say we had the convenience of traveling in a KIA automobile, which seats five plus luggage, rented from National Car Rental; we did the entire trip around the island in only half-a-day, and obviously we were not allowed past the viewing rail of the Kilauea crater which was probably one-quarter mile from the edge of the crater.
In the early ‘80s we owned a home in Kalapana Gardens, Hawaii. In the mid ‘80s the Kilauea volcano started to erupt and the lava began to flow down the mountain slopes toward our development. The local Hawaiians made sacrifices to appease Madam Pele, the volcano goddess, by throwing a bottle of gin and a bough of juniper berries into the lava flow. Being Mormon and not drinking alcoholic beverages, our home was taken by Madam Pele on December 20, 1986.
Aloha
.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
DAY 8
KONA TO HILO
In the old days all of the automobile rental agencies made you sign a waiver stating that you would not take their car over the saddle road; the road that connects Kona to Hilo by going over the saddle between Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa. It was an unpaved rocky stretch of road unfit for man or beast, but it was a favorite with all of the 4X wheelers.
That was the old days. Today the road is paved from Kona to Hilo, and the portion from the top of the saddle down to Hilo is wide and freshly paved, and for today it was our road of choice. Much of the distance is through lava fields; barren, rough and black. All along the way I tried to explain about the lava fields to Virginia. “Well, what I want to know is why can’t the lava stay soft, if it is soft when it comes up out of the earth” she asked? “Soft”? I questioned. “Molten. Lava is molten”. But again she asked “I know that, but why can’t it stay soft”? “Molten, molten. Can you say molten”? “Molten” she replied, “But I still can’t see why it can’t stay soft.” And there are many, many miles of lava field that we have to traverse.
Much of the lava fields were in the process of being broken down by Mother Nature, both from the elements and from the growth of plant life. Some of the fields were black, rough, and chunky fields, while others had a soft cover of moss starting to grow on them. Through this process the lava collects airborne dirt from the winds and plant seeds from birds, and before you know it, two or three hundred years, you have some nice rich soil suitable for growth.
Thank goodness Don had brought his GPS along; “Elevation 1,960 feet, 53.2 miles per hour, North 19 degrees and 47 minutes by 155 degrees and 51 minutes west”. Fortunately it only takes about two hours to reach Hilo using the saddle road.
As we descended the slopes of Mauna Loa the lava fields changed into lush green forests. It reminded me of our home in Kalapana, Hawaii. Sharon’s parents retired to Hawaii in the early eighties they built a home and before long they were assimilated into the Hawaiian way of life. Albert, Sharon’s dad had always built or renovated homes in his spare time, and when a house located in the development came up for sale, he suggested that we buy it and he could help remodel it with me. Well, we bought it, remodeled it and put it up for rent. It was no trouble renting it, since the Hawaiian welfare checks were more than enough to cover the rent; we always had the house rented out.
Then came trouble in paradise. Madam Pele got her tail in a knot over all the haolies (foreigners) that were moving onto her fertile slopes. Not being one to negotiate, within six months after her first eruption our brand new housing development was underneath ten feet of lava. Aloha to our beautiful home in Kalalpana Gardens.
Once we arrived in Hilo, we took a quick tour through the city and then headed for nearby Rainbow Falls. Rainbow Falls is only about two miles from Hilo, and is a must see for all the tour busses. It is a smaller falls, but still worth the trip. After warming up on the smaller Rainbow Falls, Virginia wanted to waste no time in getting on to Akaka Falls. By the time we arrived at the park it was raining. Not just misting, but a real Hilo rain. With around 140 inches of rainfall annually, you just have to expect to see a little rain. What a disappointment. Sharon and Don weren’t going to get wet just to see a falls. Sharon had seen it, and Don was still trying to figure out what the local GPS coordinates were. So it was up to Virginia and me. We donned our light summer jackets and headed down the path which was lined with lush tangles of blackberry, brilliant flowers of impatiens on either side, and ferns that were twelve feet tall. As we proceeded on to the falls, others were returning; sloshing up the path rain soaked but giddy with excitement. What better way to experience the true Hawaii except in a tropical downpour.
Before we reached the main falls, we were treated to a smaller falls. “Oh, that is absolutely gorgeous” exclaimed Virginia. I told her to hang on to some of her excitement for the main falls, but she was too busy snapping pictures to hear. The rain was really coming down now. Our light jackets were soaked, so we did what any native Hawaiian would do, we reached up and tore some leaves of from a nearby palm and used them for protection over our heads.
We were really into it now; snapping pictures, running from tree to tree to try and stay out of the rain, and having just too good of a time in general. We rounded a corner, and Virginia was snapping pictures of some flowers off to the right. “Turn around Virginia, turn around” I told her. She turned around and cried “Oh my ………” It was Akaka Falls; torrents of water gushing over the falls and then plunging down 420 feet into an almost circular pool. It was breathtaking. For a moment, there was no rain. The wet coats and soggy shoes were of no concern. This was absolutely gorgeous. Here was this beautiful falls with pure, blue water plunging down through a lush chute of green vegetation. It was awesome. This day was certainly one of the highlights of the trip.
KONA TO HILO
In the old days all of the automobile rental agencies made you sign a waiver stating that you would not take their car over the saddle road; the road that connects Kona to Hilo by going over the saddle between Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa. It was an unpaved rocky stretch of road unfit for man or beast, but it was a favorite with all of the 4X wheelers.
That was the old days. Today the road is paved from Kona to Hilo, and the portion from the top of the saddle down to Hilo is wide and freshly paved, and for today it was our road of choice. Much of the distance is through lava fields; barren, rough and black. All along the way I tried to explain about the lava fields to Virginia. “Well, what I want to know is why can’t the lava stay soft, if it is soft when it comes up out of the earth” she asked? “Soft”? I questioned. “Molten. Lava is molten”. But again she asked “I know that, but why can’t it stay soft”? “Molten, molten. Can you say molten”? “Molten” she replied, “But I still can’t see why it can’t stay soft.” And there are many, many miles of lava field that we have to traverse.
Much of the lava fields were in the process of being broken down by Mother Nature, both from the elements and from the growth of plant life. Some of the fields were black, rough, and chunky fields, while others had a soft cover of moss starting to grow on them. Through this process the lava collects airborne dirt from the winds and plant seeds from birds, and before you know it, two or three hundred years, you have some nice rich soil suitable for growth.
Thank goodness Don had brought his GPS along; “Elevation 1,960 feet, 53.2 miles per hour, North 19 degrees and 47 minutes by 155 degrees and 51 minutes west”. Fortunately it only takes about two hours to reach Hilo using the saddle road.
As we descended the slopes of Mauna Loa the lava fields changed into lush green forests. It reminded me of our home in Kalapana, Hawaii. Sharon’s parents retired to Hawaii in the early eighties they built a home and before long they were assimilated into the Hawaiian way of life. Albert, Sharon’s dad had always built or renovated homes in his spare time, and when a house located in the development came up for sale, he suggested that we buy it and he could help remodel it with me. Well, we bought it, remodeled it and put it up for rent. It was no trouble renting it, since the Hawaiian welfare checks were more than enough to cover the rent; we always had the house rented out.
Then came trouble in paradise. Madam Pele got her tail in a knot over all the haolies (foreigners) that were moving onto her fertile slopes. Not being one to negotiate, within six months after her first eruption our brand new housing development was underneath ten feet of lava. Aloha to our beautiful home in Kalalpana Gardens.
Once we arrived in Hilo, we took a quick tour through the city and then headed for nearby Rainbow Falls. Rainbow Falls is only about two miles from Hilo, and is a must see for all the tour busses. It is a smaller falls, but still worth the trip. After warming up on the smaller Rainbow Falls, Virginia wanted to waste no time in getting on to Akaka Falls. By the time we arrived at the park it was raining. Not just misting, but a real Hilo rain. With around 140 inches of rainfall annually, you just have to expect to see a little rain. What a disappointment. Sharon and Don weren’t going to get wet just to see a falls. Sharon had seen it, and Don was still trying to figure out what the local GPS coordinates were. So it was up to Virginia and me. We donned our light summer jackets and headed down the path which was lined with lush tangles of blackberry, brilliant flowers of impatiens on either side, and ferns that were twelve feet tall. As we proceeded on to the falls, others were returning; sloshing up the path rain soaked but giddy with excitement. What better way to experience the true Hawaii except in a tropical downpour.
Before we reached the main falls, we were treated to a smaller falls. “Oh, that is absolutely gorgeous” exclaimed Virginia. I told her to hang on to some of her excitement for the main falls, but she was too busy snapping pictures to hear. The rain was really coming down now. Our light jackets were soaked, so we did what any native Hawaiian would do, we reached up and tore some leaves of from a nearby palm and used them for protection over our heads.
We were really into it now; snapping pictures, running from tree to tree to try and stay out of the rain, and having just too good of a time in general. We rounded a corner, and Virginia was snapping pictures of some flowers off to the right. “Turn around Virginia, turn around” I told her. She turned around and cried “Oh my ………” It was Akaka Falls; torrents of water gushing over the falls and then plunging down 420 feet into an almost circular pool. It was breathtaking. For a moment, there was no rain. The wet coats and soggy shoes were of no concern. This was absolutely gorgeous. Here was this beautiful falls with pure, blue water plunging down through a lush chute of green vegetation. It was awesome. This day was certainly one of the highlights of the trip.
Lava Field
Rainbow Falls
Just a walkin' in the rain
Life Is Good
GOING HOME
Two weeks before our trip to Hawaii, our friend and traveling companion Don had been over in California tending to his sick step-dad Tom. Tom had cancer of the bladder and was not expected to live; the ninety two year old had other plans. He was very sick, but his spirit was strong; after all, it was just one year before that he had his driver’s license renewed. He was determined to hang in there until the last minute.
After Don had done all he could for Tom he had to turn his attentions to his aging mother. She was quite frail herself and needed help with some things she could not or would not do around the house. He fixed up all the little nuisance items, signed her up for meals-on-wheels, provided her with a Care Giver, even provided her with a med-alert signal device just in case she should fall when there was no one around to help her; of course she wouldn’t wear it, she certainly didn’t need anything like that.
Finally after doing all he could in California, he returned to Arizona where he and Virginia began readying themselves for our trip to Hawaii.
Friday morning, April ninth, we loaded our bags into the car, and at 5:00 am we head off to the Phoenix airport to begin our two week vacation in Hawaii, the land of enchantment. Just a scant nine hours later we touched down at the Kailua-Kona, Hawaii airport and begin to soak in all the beauty of the area. The airport looked as though it had been scraped out of the rough terrain of a lava field, but the flowers, the scents, and the ocean were beautiful. We took the shuttle into Kona, found the resort we would be staying at, and started to settle in.
It had been a long day, and we were exhausted from the plane ride. We had not picked up a car yet so we walked the half-mile into town for dinner, walked back, and then unpacked our bags. By this time we were ready to call it a day.
The next morning around 5:00 am, Virginia was awakened from her sleep by a feeling of great depression. For some unknown reason she was sobbing. She woke Don up to console her. They figured it was just the stress from the trip so they talked for a while and finally went back to sleep. Two hours later, around 9:00 am, Don received a call from California saying that his step-dad had passed away late Friday night.
Around the breakfast table Virginia and Don told us that Tom had died, and of the troubles that Virginia had experienced that night. “It was his spirit connecting with my spirit” she said. “Tom had lived in Kona in the early years of his life, and he wanted me to know that he was home and that everything was alright now”.
We talked about Tom for a while, finished up our breakfast and started to plan what our schedules would be; snorkeling in the ocean, hiking, and touring around the island. First thing we would have to do was to rent a car. I got on the phone and called around to the different rental agencies for a rate comparison. National car rentals had it; we could pick up the car at the airport. Hmmm. We had just spent $40 to get a shuttle from the airport to the resort, and now it looked like we would have to do the same to get back to the airport. I knew we should have made arrangements for the car before the trip. Not to fear, Virginia said she would go over to the concierge and see if they had any transport to the airport. She talked to the office asking about transportation, but they said the resort had no facilities for transportation. One of the workers volunteered to take us up to the airport after she finished her work shift, pau, at 5:00 pm. Virginia said that would be great, and asked if she had room for the four of us. “I have a truck, and if you wouldn’t mind sitting in the back, that would be fine”. Traveling in the back of a pickup is a standard mode of transportation here in the islands, but Virginia was a bit skeptical so she declined the offer. “Maybe you could talk to Louisa. She gets off work at the same time and perhaps she could take you”. So Louisa it was. Virginia talked with her and she graciously agreed to take us all to the airport when finished with her work shift.
At 4:45 pm we walked over to the office, ready for the trip to the airport. Louisa had not finished work yet, so we talked to Aunty TuTu; Aunty, a kama’aina, or long time Hawaiian resident greeting for dear friends, and TuTu, Hawaiian for grandmother. She was the official greeter for the resort; a Hawaiian lady, full of life, energy and spirit. She provided cold juice drinks for the newly arrived guests and often greeted them with Hawaiian songs as she played on her ukulele.
As we talked I told her of the death of Don’s step-father, she was very sympathetic. I told her of Virginia’s experience that morning and that we felt that his spirit had finally come home. Then I told her that we were planning to go up to the Waipi’o Valley near Waimea to blow the Conch shell and throw a flower lei into the surf in his honor. She told us that when we got up there to look for a Lindsey street. That street was named after her father who worked up in that area before he had died. Don told her that Tom, his step-father, had also worked on a ranch in that area when he was a boy. “A paniolo” replied Aunty TuTu, “at the resort party on Tuesday night we will sing a cowboy song for him”. “Where in the area did he work” she asked? “I’m not sure” replied Don, but he knew that the ranch was owned by a woman. “Anna Perry-Frisk” cried Aunty TuTu. “My arm has chicken skin,” she exclaimed. She glanced up at her husband who was standing beside her and blinking back tears. “When was he up there? I’ll bet he worked with my father” she said. The Hawaiians are very close to their deceased ancestors and revere them highly. To meet or know someone who had known their ancestors is truly an honor. They talked of the coincidence, of stories they had been told by their fathers and they hugged. “The party on Tuesday night will be a memorial to your father. And when you go up to the ranch I will go with you and blow the Conch. I will sing a Hawaiian farewell for him as you throw the lei into the surf”.
Hawaii; the paradise island, the enchanted island, that magical place where you can rediscover your life and your very soul.
Has this trip been full of coincidences? Perhaps, but it feels so right, almost as if we were connecting with a long lost friend, or perhaps a kindred spirit.
And we thought that we were the ones who had planned this trip.
Two weeks before our trip to Hawaii, our friend and traveling companion Don had been over in California tending to his sick step-dad Tom. Tom had cancer of the bladder and was not expected to live; the ninety two year old had other plans. He was very sick, but his spirit was strong; after all, it was just one year before that he had his driver’s license renewed. He was determined to hang in there until the last minute.
After Don had done all he could for Tom he had to turn his attentions to his aging mother. She was quite frail herself and needed help with some things she could not or would not do around the house. He fixed up all the little nuisance items, signed her up for meals-on-wheels, provided her with a Care Giver, even provided her with a med-alert signal device just in case she should fall when there was no one around to help her; of course she wouldn’t wear it, she certainly didn’t need anything like that.
Finally after doing all he could in California, he returned to Arizona where he and Virginia began readying themselves for our trip to Hawaii.
Friday morning, April ninth, we loaded our bags into the car, and at 5:00 am we head off to the Phoenix airport to begin our two week vacation in Hawaii, the land of enchantment. Just a scant nine hours later we touched down at the Kailua-Kona, Hawaii airport and begin to soak in all the beauty of the area. The airport looked as though it had been scraped out of the rough terrain of a lava field, but the flowers, the scents, and the ocean were beautiful. We took the shuttle into Kona, found the resort we would be staying at, and started to settle in.
It had been a long day, and we were exhausted from the plane ride. We had not picked up a car yet so we walked the half-mile into town for dinner, walked back, and then unpacked our bags. By this time we were ready to call it a day.
The next morning around 5:00 am, Virginia was awakened from her sleep by a feeling of great depression. For some unknown reason she was sobbing. She woke Don up to console her. They figured it was just the stress from the trip so they talked for a while and finally went back to sleep. Two hours later, around 9:00 am, Don received a call from California saying that his step-dad had passed away late Friday night.
Around the breakfast table Virginia and Don told us that Tom had died, and of the troubles that Virginia had experienced that night. “It was his spirit connecting with my spirit” she said. “Tom had lived in Kona in the early years of his life, and he wanted me to know that he was home and that everything was alright now”.
We talked about Tom for a while, finished up our breakfast and started to plan what our schedules would be; snorkeling in the ocean, hiking, and touring around the island. First thing we would have to do was to rent a car. I got on the phone and called around to the different rental agencies for a rate comparison. National car rentals had it; we could pick up the car at the airport. Hmmm. We had just spent $40 to get a shuttle from the airport to the resort, and now it looked like we would have to do the same to get back to the airport. I knew we should have made arrangements for the car before the trip. Not to fear, Virginia said she would go over to the concierge and see if they had any transport to the airport. She talked to the office asking about transportation, but they said the resort had no facilities for transportation. One of the workers volunteered to take us up to the airport after she finished her work shift, pau, at 5:00 pm. Virginia said that would be great, and asked if she had room for the four of us. “I have a truck, and if you wouldn’t mind sitting in the back, that would be fine”. Traveling in the back of a pickup is a standard mode of transportation here in the islands, but Virginia was a bit skeptical so she declined the offer. “Maybe you could talk to Louisa. She gets off work at the same time and perhaps she could take you”. So Louisa it was. Virginia talked with her and she graciously agreed to take us all to the airport when finished with her work shift.
At 4:45 pm we walked over to the office, ready for the trip to the airport. Louisa had not finished work yet, so we talked to Aunty TuTu; Aunty, a kama’aina, or long time Hawaiian resident greeting for dear friends, and TuTu, Hawaiian for grandmother. She was the official greeter for the resort; a Hawaiian lady, full of life, energy and spirit. She provided cold juice drinks for the newly arrived guests and often greeted them with Hawaiian songs as she played on her ukulele.
As we talked I told her of the death of Don’s step-father, she was very sympathetic. I told her of Virginia’s experience that morning and that we felt that his spirit had finally come home. Then I told her that we were planning to go up to the Waipi’o Valley near Waimea to blow the Conch shell and throw a flower lei into the surf in his honor. She told us that when we got up there to look for a Lindsey street. That street was named after her father who worked up in that area before he had died. Don told her that Tom, his step-father, had also worked on a ranch in that area when he was a boy. “A paniolo” replied Aunty TuTu, “at the resort party on Tuesday night we will sing a cowboy song for him”. “Where in the area did he work” she asked? “I’m not sure” replied Don, but he knew that the ranch was owned by a woman. “Anna Perry-Frisk” cried Aunty TuTu. “My arm has chicken skin,” she exclaimed. She glanced up at her husband who was standing beside her and blinking back tears. “When was he up there? I’ll bet he worked with my father” she said. The Hawaiians are very close to their deceased ancestors and revere them highly. To meet or know someone who had known their ancestors is truly an honor. They talked of the coincidence, of stories they had been told by their fathers and they hugged. “The party on Tuesday night will be a memorial to your father. And when you go up to the ranch I will go with you and blow the Conch. I will sing a Hawaiian farewell for him as you throw the lei into the surf”.
Hawaii; the paradise island, the enchanted island, that magical place where you can rediscover your life and your very soul.
Has this trip been full of coincidences? Perhaps, but it feels so right, almost as if we were connecting with a long lost friend, or perhaps a kindred spirit.
And we thought that we were the ones who had planned this trip.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
THE WALK
It is yet another gorgeous day here in Hawaii with our sixth consecutive day of great weather. The mornings are cool and crisp with a few clouds, then after noon more clouds begin to form, cooling it off from the hot mid-day sun.
Today Virginia invited me to go along with her on her morning walk. We leave our Windham Kona Resort, walk along Alii drive, turn right on Lanapule Rd. and walk up the hill on for one-half mile, and then follow Walua Rd. back to the ocean. The traffic’s not bad and the sights are great.
From the top of the hill we look out over the bay and can see all the boats in the harbor. Today there is another cruise ship. That means throngs of people on their mad search for the perfect nui-nui day. As we walked, Virginia told me of another walk she had taken earlier in the year. It wasn’t as grand, the sights weren’t as inspiring, in fact this particular walk was down-right scary; kapu!
She had been walking down a particularly isolated dirt road when she noticed a pick-up truck just ahead, parked alongside the road. Looking thru the back window she could make out the shadowy figure of a man sitting on the driver’s side. She was still a distance away, but she began to get an ominous, nervous feeling about the whole thing. The road was isolated and she considered turning around and retracing her steps, but that area was even more secluded. Her best choice was just to continue on track, but speed up her pace. If this guy was going to try something she was going to be prepared. What to do? She decided to make herself at least look like a threat. She took a deep breath, raised herself up to the full five-foot two-inch height of her feisty Italian frame and proceeded on. This guy was probably watching her every move through the rear view mirror. Just to intimidate she started to throw some karate punches. At about 50 feet from the pick-up she put forward her best karate block, followed by left-right, judo chop and then a swift forward kick aimed right to the groin area. With dust from her kicks hanging in the air she launched into her best power walk, a few more karate chops and she was almost up to the door of the truck. She strengthened her resolve and glared over into the open window as she passed. There in the front seat was an unshaven man, head thrown back on the seat with his mouth wide open snoring quite contently.
Oh well, you can never be too careful.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
HAWAII
DAY 4 – Monday
We took Alii Drive and drove south from the resort with our final destination being Captain Cook’s monument. This monument is near the place where Captain Cook met his demise. But that is the destination; the actual journey is in getting there.
Alii Drive is the main beach front road going south from Kona; for the most part it is the only beach road. As such it is used by automobiles, motorcycles, jeeps, joggers, bicyclists, etc. and you have to be constantly alert to who, or what, is going to be jumping out into the road.
Following the guidebook we did come across a rather unique saltwater swimming pool. The pool has been carved into the lava rock just adjacent to the ocean so that the wave action will cleanse it and supply it with water. Although you can swim in it, it was full of green slime at the time and I much prefer the ocean, but it was fun to see it as a novelty.
The road south is heavily populated by condos, but there is the occasional public access beach that tries to squeeze its way in between buildings. Swimming, snorkeling, surfing and relaxation; that is the Hawaiian way.
St. Peters Catholic Church provided us with a good stopping place where we could visit the beach and also watch surfers trying to catch that elusive seventh wave. The Little Blue Church, the church’s more affectionate name, is located just thirty feet from the main road, and right near one of the prime surfing spots. It is reportedly the most photographed church on the island; a true testament to the lazy tourist. We found many more churches with better stained glass, more ornate paintings and in more picturesque locations, but having a downside of being at least one hundred feet or more from the road. Just next door to the church is the Ku’emanu Heiau. This is the only heiau (temple) in the state known to be associated solely with surfing. This surf spot was available only to the native chiefs; if commoners were caught surfing they were put to death. Fortunately that is no longer the case. We watched a seven year old boy take his first surfing lesson here. He did a pretty good job of it too.
Not wanting to miss any of the prime tourist attractions, we pulled off the road at the Kona Country Golf Club to snap a picture of the craziest cork screw-shaped palm tree you’ll ever see. Not Guinness Book worthy, but interesting none the less.
Heading south once again, near the dead-end of Alii Drive, we came upon some interesting terraces cut into the side of the mountain. These are the graves of many hundreds of Hawaiians who died in a battle to do away with the ancient Hawaiian religion which was based on the kapu system; a system of laws, with death being the usual punishment for violation. The result of this war was the abolishment of their ancient religion and the kapu system. And all this before the missionaries had even set foot on the islands.
Ice cream is always a welcome addition with any kind of chocolate, so we stopped in at the Discovery Antiques – Ice Cream shop. With plenty of antiques and local art works, we were hard pressed to find the ice cream, but find it we did. With only six flavors to choose from it was easy to make a selection; Tahitian Vanilla and Macadamia Nut Chocolate, that was my choice. Sharon on the other hand went for the Tagua nut. Not ice cream, but a hand carved Tagua nut depicting two dolphins frolicking in the surf. Tagua is a very hard nut which resembles elephant ivory. We picked up this beautiful piece of jewelry for our daughter Dee. Please do not tell her.
While we were shopping for nuts, both chocolate and Tagua, Don was finding a great deal on AA batteries; two dollars for a pack of four. With this great find he was now able to use his GPS tracking system. “Seven hundred-thirty-eight feet elevation, traveling south west at thirty-two miles per hour”; Don had found purpose on this trip.
Finally we reached Kealakekua Bay. The rise and fall of Captain Cook. When Captain Cook first arrived on the islands, the natives quite innocently mistook him for their visiting god Lono. They treated him royally and became great friends with him. It was on Cooks return trip to the island that things did not go well. In a minor skirmish over a stolen rowboat Cook was killed and thus ended the career of one of our great navigators and short term god.
After firmly establishing the exact GPS location and elevation of Cooks Cove, we backtracked to a sign we had seen directing us to a Painted Church. Along the way we stopped at a roadside booth that sold fresh flower leis. No one was present, but a sign instructed us to place three dollars per lei in a small wooden box for payment.
Picking out two leis and following the payment instructions we were now ready to be guided by the expert guidance system of Don’s now working GPS to the Painted Church.
Aloha
FAMILY HOME EVENING
Monday night; Family Home Evening night throughout the world in the Mormon church. Yes, even here in paradise.
In preparation I had brought one of John Bytheway’s DVD’s along on the trip. This one is titled, aptly enough, Family Night. There are seventeen gospel topics on the CD; we covered Endure to the End, Holy Ghost and Modest Dress. John is a tremendous speaker. He is lively, informative and funny; and besides that, he’s my cousin.
DAY 4 – Monday
We took Alii Drive and drove south from the resort with our final destination being Captain Cook’s monument. This monument is near the place where Captain Cook met his demise. But that is the destination; the actual journey is in getting there.
Alii Drive is the main beach front road going south from Kona; for the most part it is the only beach road. As such it is used by automobiles, motorcycles, jeeps, joggers, bicyclists, etc. and you have to be constantly alert to who, or what, is going to be jumping out into the road.
Following the guidebook we did come across a rather unique saltwater swimming pool. The pool has been carved into the lava rock just adjacent to the ocean so that the wave action will cleanse it and supply it with water. Although you can swim in it, it was full of green slime at the time and I much prefer the ocean, but it was fun to see it as a novelty.
The road south is heavily populated by condos, but there is the occasional public access beach that tries to squeeze its way in between buildings. Swimming, snorkeling, surfing and relaxation; that is the Hawaiian way.
St. Peters Catholic Church provided us with a good stopping place where we could visit the beach and also watch surfers trying to catch that elusive seventh wave. The Little Blue Church, the church’s more affectionate name, is located just thirty feet from the main road, and right near one of the prime surfing spots. It is reportedly the most photographed church on the island; a true testament to the lazy tourist. We found many more churches with better stained glass, more ornate paintings and in more picturesque locations, but having a downside of being at least one hundred feet or more from the road. Just next door to the church is the Ku’emanu Heiau. This is the only heiau (temple) in the state known to be associated solely with surfing. This surf spot was available only to the native chiefs; if commoners were caught surfing they were put to death. Fortunately that is no longer the case. We watched a seven year old boy take his first surfing lesson here. He did a pretty good job of it too.
Not wanting to miss any of the prime tourist attractions, we pulled off the road at the Kona Country Golf Club to snap a picture of the craziest cork screw-shaped palm tree you’ll ever see. Not Guinness Book worthy, but interesting none the less.
Moving right along, we were still a good distant from Cooks monument, but we just had to stop at one of the famous Donkey Balls stores. These scrumptious little goodies are chocolate covered macadamia nuts with a thick chocolate coating which can come in a variety of different flavors. I think one bag of balls should sustain us till we get to the monument.
Ice cream is always a welcome addition with any kind of chocolate, so we stopped in at the Discovery Antiques – Ice Cream shop. With plenty of antiques and local art works, we were hard pressed to find the ice cream, but find it we did. With only six flavors to choose from it was easy to make a selection; Tahitian Vanilla and Macadamia Nut Chocolate, that was my choice. Sharon on the other hand went for the Tagua nut. Not ice cream, but a hand carved Tagua nut depicting two dolphins frolicking in the surf. Tagua is a very hard nut which resembles elephant ivory. We picked up this beautiful piece of jewelry for our daughter Dee. Please do not tell her.
While we were shopping for nuts, both chocolate and Tagua, Don was finding a great deal on AA batteries; two dollars for a pack of four. With this great find he was now able to use his GPS tracking system. “Seven hundred-thirty-eight feet elevation, traveling south west at thirty-two miles per hour”; Don had found purpose on this trip.
Finally we reached Kealakekua Bay. The rise and fall of Captain Cook. When Captain Cook first arrived on the islands, the natives quite innocently mistook him for their visiting god Lono. They treated him royally and became great friends with him. It was on Cooks return trip to the island that things did not go well. In a minor skirmish over a stolen rowboat Cook was killed and thus ended the career of one of our great navigators and short term god.
After firmly establishing the exact GPS location and elevation of Cooks Cove, we backtracked to a sign we had seen directing us to a Painted Church. Along the way we stopped at a roadside booth that sold fresh flower leis. No one was present, but a sign instructed us to place three dollars per lei in a small wooden box for payment.
FAMILY HOME EVENING
Monday night; Family Home Evening night throughout the world in the Mormon church. Yes, even here in paradise.
In preparation I had brought one of John Bytheway’s DVD’s along on the trip. This one is titled, aptly enough, Family Night. There are seventeen gospel topics on the CD; we covered Endure to the End, Holy Ghost and Modest Dress. John is a tremendous speaker. He is lively, informative and funny; and besides that, he’s my cousin.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
HAWAII
DAY 3 – Sunday
It was up early this morning to get ready for church. We wanted to attend the 9:00 am sacrament meeting of the Kona, Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, 1st Ward. We had an automobile now so we were self sufficient in the transportation department. But just because you have a car, doesn’t mean that you know where you are going. We had written the address to the chapel down on a piece of paper, but we had cleverly left it behind in the apartment. Going by memory just didn’t seem to be getting the job done. After going up several dead end roads we decided to find a service station and a telephone book to get the address. We found a service station and looked in the phone book; we found the ward building entry, but no address. There was a phone number, but no answer when we called; well duh, it was Sunday.
We knew where the LDS temple was located so we drove over to it to see if the ward building was anywhere nearby. Lucky enough it was just across the street. We hurried inside and arrived just after the opening hymn had been completed. We were there in time to receive the sacrament and to hear the speakers. The first speaker was a13 year old youth speaker who spoke on the atonement and the suffering of our Lord. She gave a wonderful talk and then bore a strong testimony.
Sister Dana was the next speaker. She and her husband had been spending the winter in Kona and had been integrated into the ward through their callings. This was their last week in Kona before they returned to the mainland and they were both scheduled to talk. Unfortunately Brother Dana had to return to the mainland early, so it was just Sister Dana speaking.
Sister Dana gave a wonderful talk on the Holy Ghost. She gave examples of how the spirit had worked and guided her and her husband throughout their lives; how they had received their testimonies and how their family had been blessed through obedience in listening to the promptings of the Holy Ghost.
After her talk, we sang the final closing hymn. The bishop announced that after the closing prayer the congregation would stand and sing Aloha ‘oe for Sister Dana. What a touching hymn it was. Thank goodness there were some who could complete the hymn without choking up. Me, I just blubbered out some words and then resigned myself to listening and letting the spirit guide my thoughts. After the completion of the meeting, several of the sisters and a few of the brothers came up and placed flower leis over the head of Sister Dana. She must have received fifteen leis before the service was over. There were many hugs and teary goodbyes. The Hawaiians have always shown great respect and love for their friends. It is never just a goodbye, it is always Aloha.
Aloha
DAY 3 – Sunday
It was up early this morning to get ready for church. We wanted to attend the 9:00 am sacrament meeting of the Kona, Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, 1st Ward. We had an automobile now so we were self sufficient in the transportation department. But just because you have a car, doesn’t mean that you know where you are going. We had written the address to the chapel down on a piece of paper, but we had cleverly left it behind in the apartment. Going by memory just didn’t seem to be getting the job done. After going up several dead end roads we decided to find a service station and a telephone book to get the address. We found a service station and looked in the phone book; we found the ward building entry, but no address. There was a phone number, but no answer when we called; well duh, it was Sunday.
We knew where the LDS temple was located so we drove over to it to see if the ward building was anywhere nearby. Lucky enough it was just across the street. We hurried inside and arrived just after the opening hymn had been completed. We were there in time to receive the sacrament and to hear the speakers. The first speaker was a13 year old youth speaker who spoke on the atonement and the suffering of our Lord. She gave a wonderful talk and then bore a strong testimony.
Sister Dana was the next speaker. She and her husband had been spending the winter in Kona and had been integrated into the ward through their callings. This was their last week in Kona before they returned to the mainland and they were both scheduled to talk. Unfortunately Brother Dana had to return to the mainland early, so it was just Sister Dana speaking.
Sister Dana gave a wonderful talk on the Holy Ghost. She gave examples of how the spirit had worked and guided her and her husband throughout their lives; how they had received their testimonies and how their family had been blessed through obedience in listening to the promptings of the Holy Ghost.
After her talk, we sang the final closing hymn. The bishop announced that after the closing prayer the congregation would stand and sing Aloha ‘oe for Sister Dana. What a touching hymn it was. Thank goodness there were some who could complete the hymn without choking up. Me, I just blubbered out some words and then resigned myself to listening and letting the spirit guide my thoughts. After the completion of the meeting, several of the sisters and a few of the brothers came up and placed flower leis over the head of Sister Dana. She must have received fifteen leis before the service was over. There were many hugs and teary goodbyes. The Hawaiians have always shown great respect and love for their friends. It is never just a goodbye, it is always Aloha.
Aloha
HAWAII
DAY 2 – Saturday
After a good night’s sleep, we were ready to face a new and wonderful day in our new home, Kona, Hawaii. We managed to squeeze a fruit and juice breakfast out of the resort for just over an hour of listening to all they had to offer. At first we were hesitant, but after they described some of the tours, activities and services they had available to the guests it sounded pretty good.
Once we were finished with our “breakfast” we started to plan out what our schedules would be; snorkeling, hiking, and touring around the island were definitely at the top of the list. First thing we would have to do was to rent a car. I got on the phone and called around to the different rental agencies for a rate comparison. National car rentals had it; we could pick up the car at the airport. Hmmm. We had just spent $40 to get a shuttle from the airport to the resort, and now it looked like we would have to do the same to get back to the airport. I knew we should have made arrangements for the car before the trip. Not to fear, Virginia said she would go over to the concierge and see if they had any transport to the airport. She talked to the office asking if they had any shuttle to get us back to the airport to pick up a car, but they said the resort had no facilities for transportation. One of the ladies at the desk graciously offered to take us up to the airport after she finished her work shift at 5:00 pm. “That would be great”, said Virginia, “Do you have room for the four of us”? “I have a truck, and if you wouldn’t mind sitting in the back, that would be fine” said the clerk. Traveling in the back of a pickup is a standard mode of transportation here in the islands, but Virginia was a bit skeptical so she declined the offer. “Maybe you could talk to Louisa. She gets off work at the same time and perhaps she could take you”. So Louisa it was. Virginia talked with Louisa and she gladly offered to take us all to the airport when finished with her work shift.
Five o-clock came and we all went over to the office for our ride to the airport. Louisa brought the car around, a nice big SUV with room for eight people. We all crawled in and started off for the airport. Louisa was no stranger to the roads, or the attractions; she was just like a tour guide. We were truly blessed.
DAY 2 – Saturday
After a good night’s sleep, we were ready to face a new and wonderful day in our new home, Kona, Hawaii. We managed to squeeze a fruit and juice breakfast out of the resort for just over an hour of listening to all they had to offer. At first we were hesitant, but after they described some of the tours, activities and services they had available to the guests it sounded pretty good.
Once we were finished with our “breakfast” we started to plan out what our schedules would be; snorkeling, hiking, and touring around the island were definitely at the top of the list. First thing we would have to do was to rent a car. I got on the phone and called around to the different rental agencies for a rate comparison. National car rentals had it; we could pick up the car at the airport. Hmmm. We had just spent $40 to get a shuttle from the airport to the resort, and now it looked like we would have to do the same to get back to the airport. I knew we should have made arrangements for the car before the trip. Not to fear, Virginia said she would go over to the concierge and see if they had any transport to the airport. She talked to the office asking if they had any shuttle to get us back to the airport to pick up a car, but they said the resort had no facilities for transportation. One of the ladies at the desk graciously offered to take us up to the airport after she finished her work shift at 5:00 pm. “That would be great”, said Virginia, “Do you have room for the four of us”? “I have a truck, and if you wouldn’t mind sitting in the back, that would be fine” said the clerk. Traveling in the back of a pickup is a standard mode of transportation here in the islands, but Virginia was a bit skeptical so she declined the offer. “Maybe you could talk to Louisa. She gets off work at the same time and perhaps she could take you”. So Louisa it was. Virginia talked with Louisa and she gladly offered to take us all to the airport when finished with her work shift.
Five o-clock came and we all went over to the office for our ride to the airport. Louisa brought the car around, a nice big SUV with room for eight people. We all crawled in and started off for the airport. Louisa was no stranger to the roads, or the attractions; she was just like a tour guide. We were truly blessed.
Once we were on our way, Don, who was seated in the back seat leaned forward and asked, “Is that a GPS system on your dash”? “No” replied Louisa, “it is my meter. This is my cab”. After an awkward silence Don sheepishly replied “Is it running”? Well, no it was not running, Louisa was doing this “just for us”. We were to find later that “this is just the Hawaiian way”.
We learned much these first couple days; about the area, the activities, and the many things to do and places to go, but most of all we learned about what a loving people the Hawaiian people are.
Aloha
Monday, April 12, 2010
HAWAII
DAY 1 – Friday
It is here, the day we had been waiting for, the day of departure for our two week trip to Hawaii. But at 4:30 am it seemed more like the day of dread. Hawaiian Airlines suggested we arrive at the airport three hours in advance. I don’t think so. If the airlines can’t control the terrorists, what do they think they can do with a bunch of irate passengers who arrived at the airport three hours early to avoid the long wait in lines, only to find that they negotiated the lines in half an hour, and now find themselves with a two and-one-half hour wait in the terminal before their flight to takes off? None the less, the day of departure is here and we revel in it.
Thanks to a total looser of a film, “Up in the Air”, the six hour flight only seemed like seven hours. After being fed burritos for lunch and given some free juice I settled back into my comfy seat, listened to piped in Hawaiian music, and dreamt of better times.
Life is good.
DAY 1 – Friday
It is here, the day we had been waiting for, the day of departure for our two week trip to Hawaii. But at 4:30 am it seemed more like the day of dread. Hawaiian Airlines suggested we arrive at the airport three hours in advance. I don’t think so. If the airlines can’t control the terrorists, what do they think they can do with a bunch of irate passengers who arrived at the airport three hours early to avoid the long wait in lines, only to find that they negotiated the lines in half an hour, and now find themselves with a two and-one-half hour wait in the terminal before their flight to takes off? None the less, the day of departure is here and we revel in it.
Thanks to a total looser of a film, “Up in the Air”, the six hour flight only seemed like seven hours. After being fed burritos for lunch and given some free juice I settled back into my comfy seat, listened to piped in Hawaiian music, and dreamt of better times.
Life is good.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
April 7, 2009
Mesa Artwalk
There was a really cool T-Shirt shop which would make a photo-transfer t-shirt for you using your own photo, or for a more specialized work they could set you up with a professionally designed silk screen rendition of anything you desire.
Not a chance of going hungry in this town, they have everything from Dairy Queen to specialty shops like “de la Cruz Bistro” for Mexican, or Pier de Orleans for Cajun style eating, with everything in between.
For easy access, the Phoenix Light Rail system goes right thru the middle of town. With a $3.50 all day pass you can visit most all the hot spots in Phoenix, Tempe or Mesa, and then be dropped off right at the Phoenix International Airport.
It wasn’t long before I spotted it, the Holy Grail of every artwalk city in America. “God Bless America”. I was approaching from the back, which gave me an outstanding perspective of the enormous size of this work. I went around to the front side to get frontal picture, but had to cross the street to get the full statue in my view finder.
Mesa Artwalk
The good weather, mid 70’s to mid 80’s, was consistent enough that I wanted to go out and visit some of the varied art displays around the area. I had read of a statue on loan to the city of Mesa to enhance their already popular downtown collection of bronze sculptures. “God Bless America”, a 25 foot tall wooden statue, was fashioned after the 1930 Grant Wood painting “American Gothic”, which depicts a farmer, with pitchfork in hand, and his wife, standing in front of cottage of the Gothic Revival style.
I drove down to Mesa and parked in the lot one of the local eateries. Mesa is a college town, complete with college town culture; book stores, antique stores, specialty shops, art galleries, museums, well supplied music stores, like Milano’s Music, with different styles of music blaring out from them at all times of the day.
There was a really cool T-Shirt shop which would make a photo-transfer t-shirt for you using your own photo, or for a more specialized work they could set you up with a professionally designed silk screen rendition of anything you desire.
Not a chance of going hungry in this town, they have everything from Dairy Queen to specialty shops like “de la Cruz Bistro” for Mexican, or Pier de Orleans for Cajun style eating, with everything in between.
For easy access, the Phoenix Light Rail system goes right thru the middle of town. With a $3.50 all day pass you can visit most all the hot spots in Phoenix, Tempe or Mesa, and then be dropped off right at the Phoenix International Airport.
As I was walking down the street, enjoying the works of art, the eateries and the funky little shops, a young man in a backpack approached me, and, with a definite New York accent he asked if there were a subway near here. I paused for a moment, and then told him I was new here also, but I didn’t think there were any subways. There was a light rail train which had just passed by and there must be a station nearby. He looked at me with that “You poor old man” look, and said “No, I mean a Subway Sandwich Shop”. Whoa! We both got a good chuckle out of that one. Me, I was chuckling out loud, mixed with bursts of outright laughter for the next block. It didn’t matter; I just fit in with the rest of the crowd.
One of my favorite art works, aside from the whimsical lounging “Fish” of course was “They are Waiting”; a sculpture of three people patiently waiting for some totally uninteresting event. Ironically enough this sculpture was by Nnamdi Okonkwo of Orem, Utah. He says “It seemed like everyone was waiting for something to happen. People were waiting to graduate, waiting to get a job, or waiting to get married. In the sculpture, I use the three women to interpret this in a more universal way, showing that in life, people wait. We’ve all gone through periods of intense waiting." Yep, that’s Orem.
It wasn’t long before I spotted it, the Holy Grail of every artwalk city in America. “God Bless America”. I was approaching from the back, which gave me an outstanding perspective of the enormous size of this work. I went around to the front side to get frontal picture, but had to cross the street to get the full statue in my view finder.There are over 35 works of art on display along either side of the road in the six block stretch of the town center, with “guest appearances” of other art and other mediums showing up all the time. I have posted just a few of them here. I don’t want to ruin it for you when you are able to come down and see them for yourself.
Remember the light is always on at the New Hyde Manor Casita.
Tomorrow we leave for Kailua-Kona, Hawaii; fourteen fun filled days on the beach, on the trails and in the shops.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
THE VISITORS
Phoenix has long been known for its weird happenings. We seem to have more than our share of “crazies” here in the area and I think that our local history will bear me out on this one. Remember that old coot Jacob Waltz, the Lost Dutchman of the Superstitions, wandering around in the heat of summer claiming that he had found the richest mine in the world back in the wilderness of the Superstition Mountain? Or Madman Hyde, the deranged mine operator who finally met his doom head first in a honey bucket back in the year of 1860? You have probably heard of the Phoenix lights, unexplained phenomena of several lights darting about the night sky. Flying saucers are what most people here-abouts called them.
Well I have yet another story to tell ya’, a true story at that. This one happened right here in the foothills of the mighty Superstition Mountain. That’s right, ol’ Jacob Waltz’s stomping grounds. I know its true, because it happened to me. Well, not actually to me, but to three of my grandchildren, and if they say it happened you can darn well believe that it did.
It was during one of those family get-togethers over Christmas vacation of ’03 while the northern family was down visiting us at our MountainBrook home. Things were getting a little testy, as they always seem to do during the long nights of the desert, when the kids went stomping out of the room yelling that they just couldn’t take it any more. I don’t know what had gotten into them. They had been just fine for the last three hours while we were playing our favorite game of Mexican Train. Well, even though it was night, there was a full moon, so we weren’t too concerned about them. The rattlers had gone to sleep, and the coyotes hadn’t bothered anyone all month.
I was just about ready to lay my last three dominoes down when we heard a blood curdling cry come from the back yard. We jumped up and ran to the back door, when we were nearly trampled by three kids running into the house. All were screaming as though someone had stolen their gummy bears. Jonathan came running in with eyes as big as saucers, yelling “They were monsters. Arms as big as trees and breath that smelled like Pippin’s!” Celci kept crying “I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid!”, while Julianna, quite calmly exclaimed that “they seemed like really nice people”.
I don’t know what it was out there in the dark of night, but whatever it was that caused all that commotion seemed to disappear just as mysteriously as it appeared. We searched the area all through the night and into the morning and could didn’t find hide nor hair of them. When questioned about it, the kids just said that all of the sudden they came from nowhere and then just seemed to disappear into thin air, most terrible thing they had ever seen. A bunch of hooey? I don’t think so, stranger things have happened here in the cold and dark nights of the desert.
Phoenix has long been known for its weird happenings. We seem to have more than our share of “crazies” here in the area and I think that our local history will bear me out on this one. Remember that old coot Jacob Waltz, the Lost Dutchman of the Superstitions, wandering around in the heat of summer claiming that he had found the richest mine in the world back in the wilderness of the Superstition Mountain? Or Madman Hyde, the deranged mine operator who finally met his doom head first in a honey bucket back in the year of 1860? You have probably heard of the Phoenix lights, unexplained phenomena of several lights darting about the night sky. Flying saucers are what most people here-abouts called them.
Well I have yet another story to tell ya’, a true story at that. This one happened right here in the foothills of the mighty Superstition Mountain. That’s right, ol’ Jacob Waltz’s stomping grounds. I know its true, because it happened to me. Well, not actually to me, but to three of my grandchildren, and if they say it happened you can darn well believe that it did.
It was during one of those family get-togethers over Christmas vacation of ’03 while the northern family was down visiting us at our MountainBrook home. Things were getting a little testy, as they always seem to do during the long nights of the desert, when the kids went stomping out of the room yelling that they just couldn’t take it any more. I don’t know what had gotten into them. They had been just fine for the last three hours while we were playing our favorite game of Mexican Train. Well, even though it was night, there was a full moon, so we weren’t too concerned about them. The rattlers had gone to sleep, and the coyotes hadn’t bothered anyone all month.
I was just about ready to lay my last three dominoes down when we heard a blood curdling cry come from the back yard. We jumped up and ran to the back door, when we were nearly trampled by three kids running into the house. All were screaming as though someone had stolen their gummy bears. Jonathan came running in with eyes as big as saucers, yelling “They were monsters. Arms as big as trees and breath that smelled like Pippin’s!” Celci kept crying “I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid!”, while Julianna, quite calmly exclaimed that “they seemed like really nice people”.
I don’t know what it was out there in the dark of night, but whatever it was that caused all that commotion seemed to disappear just as mysteriously as it appeared. We searched the area all through the night and into the morning and could didn’t find hide nor hair of them. When questioned about it, the kids just said that all of the sudden they came from nowhere and then just seemed to disappear into thin air, most terrible thing they had ever seen. A bunch of hooey? I don’t think so, stranger things have happened here in the cold and dark nights of the desert.
By Gary (Madman) Hyde
December 2003
Friday, December 18, 2009
DAY 8
We had a good night at the Twin Lakes Resort, it was quite and cool, and now we were ready to pack up our rig and get rolling. Sharon and I were sitting outside on a picnic table watching some geese on the pond when Sharon pointed out a lady in a RV spot abut fifty yards away. She too was sitting on a picnic table watching the geese, but she was talking to herself and rocking back and forth, which is unusual even for RV’rs. We watched her for a while, wondering what her life was like.
This was all interesting enough, but we had to get ready to go. Sharon went in to clean up the inside of the trailer while I started to raise the rear struts and disconnect the utilities on the outside. When I was finished I sat back down on the picnic table for a moment. Before long, I heard a banging noise coming from the direction of the detached lady. I glanced over and saw that she was trying to close the door of an old pickup truck. She would slam the door and it would spring back open. She would mutter some choice words and then slam the door again. After about five tries, she just jumped up into the truck and sat there, muttering to herself. She cursed at the truck and then yelled “Come on Bill” to someone inside a nearby mobile home. Before long a couple came out of a mobile home, talked to her for a few minutes and then hopped into a red Toyota and drove off. After a few more swearing tirades aimed at Bill, I formed a scenario of what her situation might be like;
“Come on Bill; get your lazy butt out here”. What a mess this all turned out to be. Stuck out here in the middle of nowhere; sweating out the 120 degree days here in this dump of a ten foot trailer, with absolutely no one around and nothing to do. This sure wasn’t in my plans. When we got married, I thought I was in love. Bill had swept me off my feet. We left that dump of a town I had lived in all my life and headed to Vegas to get married, entirely against my mother’s wishes, but I never listened to her anyway.
Vegas was great for us. Bill got a job as a janitor in the Lady Luck Casino and I waited tables. Life was good until Bill started to gambling. It wasn’t much at first, but before long he was betting his entire paycheck, and loosing. We pawned our car and whatever other belongings we had. Then Bill broke his leg. He couldn’t work and I had to take care of him. I lost my job and we had to move in with Bill’s brother Gray here in Twin Lakes. Actually we moved into an old trailer Gray had on his property. A dump of a ten foot trailer out in the middle of the Mohave Desert; no air conditioning, up on blocks, and just a step above a pig sty. And Bill’s no help. “What do you expect me to do; can’t you see I’ve got a broken leg?” he would cry. Not that it mattered; he had never helped out around the house anyway.
“Bill, get out here, I want to get out of this dump!” she yelled. Gray and his wife were nice enough, but during the day they’re off to work; and with them gone there’s nothing to do around this place; day or night. Crap, if I had half a brain I would go over and hook up with that old man over there and hitch a ride to Vegas. “Bill, where in the hell are you” she yelled as she jumped out of the truck, slamming the truck door which just bounced back open again. She stomped over to the mobile home cursing at Bill all the way. Finally Bill showed himself at the door. “Stop your bitching I can hear ya” he yelled at her, “ He hobbled down the stairs on his crutches and they argued for a while. Then they both went into the mobile home, yelling at each other all the way.
This was all too weird for me. I walked around to the door of our 5th wheel and told Sharon that I loved her. Then we packed up the dogs, got into the truck, and started off for our next destination; Needles, CA.
We had a good night at the Twin Lakes Resort, it was quite and cool, and now we were ready to pack up our rig and get rolling. Sharon and I were sitting outside on a picnic table watching some geese on the pond when Sharon pointed out a lady in a RV spot abut fifty yards away. She too was sitting on a picnic table watching the geese, but she was talking to herself and rocking back and forth, which is unusual even for RV’rs. We watched her for a while, wondering what her life was like.
This was all interesting enough, but we had to get ready to go. Sharon went in to clean up the inside of the trailer while I started to raise the rear struts and disconnect the utilities on the outside. When I was finished I sat back down on the picnic table for a moment. Before long, I heard a banging noise coming from the direction of the detached lady. I glanced over and saw that she was trying to close the door of an old pickup truck. She would slam the door and it would spring back open. She would mutter some choice words and then slam the door again. After about five tries, she just jumped up into the truck and sat there, muttering to herself. She cursed at the truck and then yelled “Come on Bill” to someone inside a nearby mobile home. Before long a couple came out of a mobile home, talked to her for a few minutes and then hopped into a red Toyota and drove off. After a few more swearing tirades aimed at Bill, I formed a scenario of what her situation might be like;
“Come on Bill; get your lazy butt out here”. What a mess this all turned out to be. Stuck out here in the middle of nowhere; sweating out the 120 degree days here in this dump of a ten foot trailer, with absolutely no one around and nothing to do. This sure wasn’t in my plans. When we got married, I thought I was in love. Bill had swept me off my feet. We left that dump of a town I had lived in all my life and headed to Vegas to get married, entirely against my mother’s wishes, but I never listened to her anyway.
Vegas was great for us. Bill got a job as a janitor in the Lady Luck Casino and I waited tables. Life was good until Bill started to gambling. It wasn’t much at first, but before long he was betting his entire paycheck, and loosing. We pawned our car and whatever other belongings we had. Then Bill broke his leg. He couldn’t work and I had to take care of him. I lost my job and we had to move in with Bill’s brother Gray here in Twin Lakes. Actually we moved into an old trailer Gray had on his property. A dump of a ten foot trailer out in the middle of the Mohave Desert; no air conditioning, up on blocks, and just a step above a pig sty. And Bill’s no help. “What do you expect me to do; can’t you see I’ve got a broken leg?” he would cry. Not that it mattered; he had never helped out around the house anyway.
“Bill, get out here, I want to get out of this dump!” she yelled. Gray and his wife were nice enough, but during the day they’re off to work; and with them gone there’s nothing to do around this place; day or night. Crap, if I had half a brain I would go over and hook up with that old man over there and hitch a ride to Vegas. “Bill, where in the hell are you” she yelled as she jumped out of the truck, slamming the truck door which just bounced back open again. She stomped over to the mobile home cursing at Bill all the way. Finally Bill showed himself at the door. “Stop your bitching I can hear ya” he yelled at her, “ He hobbled down the stairs on his crutches and they argued for a while. Then they both went into the mobile home, yelling at each other all the way.
This was all too weird for me. I walked around to the door of our 5th wheel and told Sharon that I loved her. Then we packed up the dogs, got into the truck, and started off for our next destination; Needles, CA.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
DAY 7
We left Yosemite today. The early morning weather was cold and we had to cancel our route east over the Tioga Pass road because of icy conditions; so, it was back down the 6-7% grade hill we had come up a few days ago. Fortunately there was road work in progress and we had to follow a lead car more than half way down the hill. That gave me an excuse for only going fifteen mph.
Once down on the flat, we followed Hwy 99 the rest of the way into Bakersfield, CA. At first there were small back roads going through the farmlands of CA, a good change from the sterile I-5 route. Later on we were on a good freeway, but still more rural than I-5. Our destination for the night was to be Twin Lakes RV, about twenty miles outside of Barstow. We arrived in Barstow, got a partial fill up of diesel with the intent of topping it off when we got to Twin Lakes.
Twin Lakes was interesting. Turns out that the twin lakes were two ponds two feet deep and of about one acre each, scrapped out of the desert floor. Other than the campground, there was nothing. This was in the middle of the desert. Not a desert like the Sonora desert of AZ, but the Mohave Desert, where the summer temperatures are 120 plus, and absolutely nothing grows.
We found our spot and set up camp for the night. As I was returning from the office where I settled up our camping fees, I noticed a rut scraped in the dirt road, as if someone had been dragging a heavy stick. I followed it right into one of the trailer spots. A 5th wheel trailer had just come in with a blown out tire. They were just at the front gate when the tire blew so they just continued to drive on the tire, which was now just the rim. I talked with them for a while to see if they need any help, but they said they had it under control, which was no control at all. It turns out that the previous day they had had a blowout. The garage where they had it repaired told them that all the tires were several years old and should be replaced. RV trailers deteriorate within five to seven years to the point where they may not be safe.
To be on the save side they replaced all four tires. On their trip today, they had blown out three of the new tires, and now this one was the fourth. They had no more spares and were waiting for a service truck to bring them some new tires. The garage that just sold them the four new tires must have sold them automobile tires. I guess that the old desert service station false repair tactics are still alive and well.
We left Yosemite today. The early morning weather was cold and we had to cancel our route east over the Tioga Pass road because of icy conditions; so, it was back down the 6-7% grade hill we had come up a few days ago. Fortunately there was road work in progress and we had to follow a lead car more than half way down the hill. That gave me an excuse for only going fifteen mph.
Once down on the flat, we followed Hwy 99 the rest of the way into Bakersfield, CA. At first there were small back roads going through the farmlands of CA, a good change from the sterile I-5 route. Later on we were on a good freeway, but still more rural than I-5. Our destination for the night was to be Twin Lakes RV, about twenty miles outside of Barstow. We arrived in Barstow, got a partial fill up of diesel with the intent of topping it off when we got to Twin Lakes.
Twin Lakes was interesting. Turns out that the twin lakes were two ponds two feet deep and of about one acre each, scrapped out of the desert floor. Other than the campground, there was nothing. This was in the middle of the desert. Not a desert like the Sonora desert of AZ, but the Mohave Desert, where the summer temperatures are 120 plus, and absolutely nothing grows.
We found our spot and set up camp for the night. As I was returning from the office where I settled up our camping fees, I noticed a rut scraped in the dirt road, as if someone had been dragging a heavy stick. I followed it right into one of the trailer spots. A 5th wheel trailer had just come in with a blown out tire. They were just at the front gate when the tire blew so they just continued to drive on the tire, which was now just the rim. I talked with them for a while to see if they need any help, but they said they had it under control, which was no control at all. It turns out that the previous day they had had a blowout. The garage where they had it repaired told them that all the tires were several years old and should be replaced. RV trailers deteriorate within five to seven years to the point where they may not be safe.
To be on the save side they replaced all four tires. On their trip today, they had blown out three of the new tires, and now this one was the fourth. They had no more spares and were waiting for a service truck to bring them some new tires. The garage that just sold them the four new tires must have sold them automobile tires. I guess that the old desert service station false repair tactics are still alive and well.
Friday, December 11, 2009
DAY 6
The sky was bright and sunny today giving us a most pleasant drive to Yosemite Park this morning. Along the road we passed many motorists who had pulled off to the roadside to take pictures of the colorful autumn leaves. The mornings were getting nippy and in another week or two the leaves will all be in their full glory of color.
Today we plan on visiting some of the places in the park which were shrouded in clouds yesterday. I also want to visit the giant Sequoias in Mariposa Grove which is about thirty miles from Yosemite Valley.
On the way to Mariposa Grove we pass by the cutoff to Glacier Point, a popular destination which gives great views of Yosemite Valley, Half Dome and the Yosemite high country. The road was undergoing some renovation and would not be opened for another hour. If we continue on to Mariposa by the time we finish, we can return to Glacier Point and the road should be open.
We drove on through the small town of Mariposa to the entrance of Mariposa Grove. As usual our luck prevailed and the parking lot was closed for maintenance. They had a bus service which would take you on into the grove, but it was just leaving as we arrived and there would not be another one leaving for an hour. Swallowing our pride, we returned to Glacier Point in hopes that the road would be open by the time we got there.
The road was open and when we arrived at the lookout point, there were only a few people there. Quite a change from the hundreds of visitors you would expect on a sunny summer day. The view panorama delivered everything the brochures said it would. The entire Yosemite Valley was laid at your feet. Half Dome, El Capitan, and Yosemite Falls: because of the heavy rains last week all the falls had an ample amount of water flowing over them. We lay back on the warm rocks and let the sun lull us into a deeper appreciation of the deep spiritual beauties of the area.
Leaving Glacier Point we returned to Yosemite Valley and visited the Valley Visitor Center and the Ansel Adams Gallery. Ansel Adams had always been one of my favorite photographers; such detail, lighting and content. I fancy that my photographs are a lot like his.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
DAY 5
Our first day in Yosemite National Park was a bit cloudy and drizzly. This, however, did not dampen our spirits. We awoke early and by 10:30 am we were on our way. The RV campground was about twenty-five miles from the park but the road was filled with all kinds of scenic views. Because fall was approaching, there were many scenes of fall colors. As we approached the park practically every turn of the road presented us with a new vista of the canyon.
Our first day in Yosemite National Park was a bit cloudy and drizzly. This, however, did not dampen our spirits. We awoke early and by 10:30 am we were on our way. The RV campground was about twenty-five miles from the park but the road was filled with all kinds of scenic views. Because fall was approaching, there were many scenes of fall colors. As we approached the park practically every turn of the road presented us with a new vista of the canyon.
Once at the park my Golden Age Passport allowed us to bypass the $20 fee for a seven day pass; one of the (few) benefits of old age. As we drove up the winding road the colors started to change from greens to yellows, browns, oranges and gold. The valley which had been formed by glacial action those many years ago, presented us with a great variety of the wonders of nature. Our first stop was at Bridalveil Falls. A short hike up the trail and we were at the base of the falls. The wind was swirling about the cliff and blowing the falling water in a delicate free-fall. Because of the lateness of the season we were spared the pressing throngs of tourists. We did meet an older couple shuffling their way to the falls. Twenty-three years ago they had climbed their way to the falls and it was still just as beautiful.
As the day progressed the clouds and rain increased. Now the peaks were shrouded in a cloak of clouds and mist, which gave them an aura of mystery. No matter what the weather, so long as you can see, the valley presents itself in an ever changing canvas of beauty.
For a complete selection of tastefully selected photographs visit https://www.photoshop.com/user/travlinmangallery and select the Yosemite album.
DEC 10, '09
Hello again-
Well, much to the glee of most of you, we did make it home to our beloved MountainBrook. The slight delay in my postings (two months) was due to several factors which I won’t go into here. However I will mention a few. Firstly, when I set up my computer at home, it managed to get some kind of a virus; It would hang up, switch off, etc. etc. etc.. I called a “computer expert” which was advertised in our local MBV news to try and resolve my problem. She came over bubbling with enthusiasm and praise of herself, ready to tackle any kind of problem my computer could throw at her. After half–an-hour of checking out the system she suggested I buy a new computer. No virus software, no analysis disks, only computer prattle, sympathy and “That will be $50 please”!
After I escorted her out the door I called my brother, who does know a thing or two about computers. He recommended some anti-virus, system cleaners, and other programs aimed at cleaning up my computer. I installed what I could and tried to repair the damages. I succeeded to some extent, but I just couldn’t restore it to its pervious pristine condition. Now it was a good computer, but an old computer, I had upgraded it over the past several years, but perhaps it was time to get a new one. I have hauled this thing, (desktop computer) back and forth from AZ to WA at least five times.
It was now time to get a new laptop.
So here I am, with a brand new Toshiba Satellite, Intel Core 2 Dup T6600, 4GB DDR2 RAM, 500 GB HDD computer. It came with Windows 7 Home Premium 64-bit operating system. Now while this has been my salvation, it has also been my demise. Not all of my previous software would work on the new W9ndows 7. I managed to get some of the software to work, others I had to replace, and others I just had to do without. One of the new software programs was a photo editor, Adobe Photoshop Elements 8. They said it had a steep learning curve, but it was an excellent program. With me, the learning curve was “flat line”.
Now, after just a scant four weeks, I finally am able to put together a small collection of photos. Since I like to include a photo or two along with my travel blog, I am now ready to continue the exciting adventures of Gary, Sharon, The Pip and Jasper.
Hello again-
Well, much to the glee of most of you, we did make it home to our beloved MountainBrook. The slight delay in my postings (two months) was due to several factors which I won’t go into here. However I will mention a few. Firstly, when I set up my computer at home, it managed to get some kind of a virus; It would hang up, switch off, etc. etc. etc.. I called a “computer expert” which was advertised in our local MBV news to try and resolve my problem. She came over bubbling with enthusiasm and praise of herself, ready to tackle any kind of problem my computer could throw at her. After half–an-hour of checking out the system she suggested I buy a new computer. No virus software, no analysis disks, only computer prattle, sympathy and “That will be $50 please”!
After I escorted her out the door I called my brother, who does know a thing or two about computers. He recommended some anti-virus, system cleaners, and other programs aimed at cleaning up my computer. I installed what I could and tried to repair the damages. I succeeded to some extent, but I just couldn’t restore it to its pervious pristine condition. Now it was a good computer, but an old computer, I had upgraded it over the past several years, but perhaps it was time to get a new one. I have hauled this thing, (desktop computer) back and forth from AZ to WA at least five times.
It was now time to get a new laptop.
So here I am, with a brand new Toshiba Satellite, Intel Core 2 Dup T6600, 4GB DDR2 RAM, 500 GB HDD computer. It came with Windows 7 Home Premium 64-bit operating system. Now while this has been my salvation, it has also been my demise. Not all of my previous software would work on the new W9ndows 7. I managed to get some of the software to work, others I had to replace, and others I just had to do without. One of the new software programs was a photo editor, Adobe Photoshop Elements 8. They said it had a steep learning curve, but it was an excellent program. With me, the learning curve was “flat line”.
Now, after just a scant four weeks, I finally am able to put together a small collection of photos. Since I like to include a photo or two along with my travel blog, I am now ready to continue the exciting adventures of Gary, Sharon, The Pip and Jasper.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
DAY 4
Saints preserve us said Mrs. Gurvis!
We made it through the night at the Trails End RV Park, and hit the road early. We have only about 310 miles planned for our travels today. Tonight we would be staying at the Yosemite Pines RV, and make ready for our tour of Yosemite National Park the following day. This will be the highlight of the whole trip.
The drive down through Northern California was uneventful except for the scenery; it was magnificent. One item of special note was Mt. Shasta. By traveling down through Central Oregon on Hwy 97, you are treated to an entirely different view than you get from I-5. You have a closer approach and there are some stunning views of the mountain. There was one particular turnout that really had an outstanding view. We pulled into the viewpoint, parked the truck and I got out the camera. I framed the shot, braced myself against the truck, and whirrrr, click, ftzzz……..”Batteries need charging”. Oh well, I saw it and you can imagine just how amazing that shot would have been had I been able to take it.
Our final trial of the day was to be the approach to our campground. The book says there is a “steady 6-7% climb for over six miles”. Translated into real terms, this means you will be climbing up the side of a barn for the next hour and a half. I’ve never been up a hill this steep. It just went on and on and on. There was a sign about halfway up that says “Turn off air-conditioned to help prevent overheating”. Good advice, but I still see cars pulled over to the side with steam coming out of their hoods.
Despite this obstacle, the ol' Chevy Duramax Diesel made the climb with no trouble at all; thank goodness
We made it into the campground, parked and set up the rig, and even had had time to make the acquaintance of another RV’ing couple from Idaho Falls, Idaho.
Saints preserve us said Mrs. Gurvis!
We made it through the night at the Trails End RV Park, and hit the road early. We have only about 310 miles planned for our travels today. Tonight we would be staying at the Yosemite Pines RV, and make ready for our tour of Yosemite National Park the following day. This will be the highlight of the whole trip.
The drive down through Northern California was uneventful except for the scenery; it was magnificent. One item of special note was Mt. Shasta. By traveling down through Central Oregon on Hwy 97, you are treated to an entirely different view than you get from I-5. You have a closer approach and there are some stunning views of the mountain. There was one particular turnout that really had an outstanding view. We pulled into the viewpoint, parked the truck and I got out the camera. I framed the shot, braced myself against the truck, and whirrrr, click, ftzzz……..”Batteries need charging”. Oh well, I saw it and you can imagine just how amazing that shot would have been had I been able to take it.
Our final trial of the day was to be the approach to our campground. The book says there is a “steady 6-7% climb for over six miles”. Translated into real terms, this means you will be climbing up the side of a barn for the next hour and a half. I’ve never been up a hill this steep. It just went on and on and on. There was a sign about halfway up that says “Turn off air-conditioned to help prevent overheating”. Good advice, but I still see cars pulled over to the side with steam coming out of their hoods.
Despite this obstacle, the ol' Chevy Duramax Diesel made the climb with no trouble at all; thank goodness
We made it into the campground, parked and set up the rig, and even had had time to make the acquaintance of another RV’ing couple from Idaho Falls, Idaho.
Monday, October 19, 2009
DAY 3
Our next stop will be an interim point on our way to Yosemite National Park. Leaving Bend we drove through the Central Oregon High Desert. This desert is considerably different from our Sonoran desert that we have in Arizona. None the less it is a beautiful desert. We were driving through magnificent stands of juniper, pine and birch. The birch leaves once again provided us with a grand assortment of fall colors. The pale light green of its leaves were in staunch contrast to the darker green of the juniper and pine. There were also the more mature leaves of orange and yellow which added variety to the colors.
Oregon roads are among the better quality of roads we have traveled. This particular road, Highway 97, had recently been resurfaced so we had a nice smooth quite ride for the next hour or so. We were taking Hwy 97 instead of I-5, first of all so we could stop in at Bend and visit with our friend June; and secondly to follow the less traveled road. The repetition of traveling on I-5 all the time becomes a little tedious, and after all, this is The Year of Change.
Before we knew it we were at the border crossing going into California. We pulled into the check station and rolled down the window. A round little Mexican guard approached the truck and asked us if we were carrying any fruits or nuts. I paused for a moment, glanced over at Sharon, smiled, and then answered “No”. He then said “Have a nice day” and motioned us through. As we drove away we both could detect the pungent smell of baked pizza; his cooking lunch I suppose.
We continued on down the road, but the odor of the fresh baked pizza still lingered in the air and in our memories. We hadn’t stopped for lunch yet, and after all, it was ….pizzaaa. Well, we were out in the middle of nowhere now, so our appetites would just have to wait. But it wasn’t long before Sharon said “I can still smell the aroma of that pizza”. To prevent her from drooling all over the dogs, I rolled down the window, just a bit.
Before long we came to a long hill. Laboring up the hill we started to overtake a large truck carrying some of California’s fresh farm produce to market. Glancing over at the truck it was…..”Oh no; it’s a garlic truck”. Our visions of fresh baked pizza were dashed underneath the heady smell of garlic! There must have been four tons of garlic on that truck and we couldn’t even snag one little clove. We hurried on by and just shook our heads and laughed at each other. Where else but in California?
It was about 3:00 PM now and right on queue, Ms. Garmin instructed us to take the next exit to our selected campground for the night. Taking the exit and turning right again as instructed, we preceded the “nine-tenths of a mile to destination point on left” as instructed. We followed the narrow two lane road for the requested nine-tenths of a mile, but when she said “Turn left to destination point”, there was nothing there. There is also a map displayed on the Garmin so I could see that there would be a loop coming up soon where we could turn the rig around; in the mean time the road was getting narrower and going down, down, into the canyon by a series of switchbacks. As the turnoff arrived she said “Turn left”. Nice try, but the turn-around road was at an acute angle and too sharp for us to negotiate the turn. Preceding on down the road “Recalculating” was the only consolation we heard from the machine. Down, down, down we went, into the very depths of hell, followed by 12,000 pounds of 5th wheel trailer. “Curse you Garmin girl”!
Then, as I was ready to sink into despair and abandon myself to destruction – not to an imaginary ruin, but to the very power of this cursed road, there appeared before me a fork in the road. Not a large fork, but one with just enough room where I could go forward on one, then back up into the other, and by going forward very carefully I was able to turn around and retrace our steps. “Recalculating. Precede four-tenths of a mile to dest…” Click! “Take that you viper” I cried as I turned off the infernal device.
Finally we had retraced our route to an RV resort which we had seen on the way in; Trails End. Now here was a real RV park, with an easy access road to it. Turning onto the road we proceeded to the office in the direction indicated by the sign. Before we could go another twenty feet we found that the entrance had been blocked off with yellow caution tape and orange detour cones. I pulled the rig to an immediate stop, at which time I noticed a man running towards us frantically waving his arms. It turned out that three days ago they had had nineteen inches of rain in less than one and lone-half days and their road and a portion of their park had been washed out. Not to worry, we could take a back road and before we knew it we were snuggly resting in our home on wheels.
Once we got set up I went over to the office to pay for the nights stay. As I stepped up onto the office porch a toothless man with tattoos from wrist to elbow looked up from a table, grinned, and said hello. Three others looked up, grunted, gave a nod with their heads, and then went back to playing cards; a scruffy Pit bull managed a low growl.
When I returned to the RV Sharon expressed her feelings towards the day by showing me this unique shaped rock she had found while taking a walk with the dogs.
Our next stop will be an interim point on our way to Yosemite National Park. Leaving Bend we drove through the Central Oregon High Desert. This desert is considerably different from our Sonoran desert that we have in Arizona. None the less it is a beautiful desert. We were driving through magnificent stands of juniper, pine and birch. The birch leaves once again provided us with a grand assortment of fall colors. The pale light green of its leaves were in staunch contrast to the darker green of the juniper and pine. There were also the more mature leaves of orange and yellow which added variety to the colors.
Oregon roads are among the better quality of roads we have traveled. This particular road, Highway 97, had recently been resurfaced so we had a nice smooth quite ride for the next hour or so. We were taking Hwy 97 instead of I-5, first of all so we could stop in at Bend and visit with our friend June; and secondly to follow the less traveled road. The repetition of traveling on I-5 all the time becomes a little tedious, and after all, this is The Year of Change.
Before we knew it we were at the border crossing going into California. We pulled into the check station and rolled down the window. A round little Mexican guard approached the truck and asked us if we were carrying any fruits or nuts. I paused for a moment, glanced over at Sharon, smiled, and then answered “No”. He then said “Have a nice day” and motioned us through. As we drove away we both could detect the pungent smell of baked pizza; his cooking lunch I suppose.
We continued on down the road, but the odor of the fresh baked pizza still lingered in the air and in our memories. We hadn’t stopped for lunch yet, and after all, it was ….pizzaaa. Well, we were out in the middle of nowhere now, so our appetites would just have to wait. But it wasn’t long before Sharon said “I can still smell the aroma of that pizza”. To prevent her from drooling all over the dogs, I rolled down the window, just a bit.
Before long we came to a long hill. Laboring up the hill we started to overtake a large truck carrying some of California’s fresh farm produce to market. Glancing over at the truck it was…..”Oh no; it’s a garlic truck”. Our visions of fresh baked pizza were dashed underneath the heady smell of garlic! There must have been four tons of garlic on that truck and we couldn’t even snag one little clove. We hurried on by and just shook our heads and laughed at each other. Where else but in California?
It was about 3:00 PM now and right on queue, Ms. Garmin instructed us to take the next exit to our selected campground for the night. Taking the exit and turning right again as instructed, we preceded the “nine-tenths of a mile to destination point on left” as instructed. We followed the narrow two lane road for the requested nine-tenths of a mile, but when she said “Turn left to destination point”, there was nothing there. There is also a map displayed on the Garmin so I could see that there would be a loop coming up soon where we could turn the rig around; in the mean time the road was getting narrower and going down, down, into the canyon by a series of switchbacks. As the turnoff arrived she said “Turn left”. Nice try, but the turn-around road was at an acute angle and too sharp for us to negotiate the turn. Preceding on down the road “Recalculating” was the only consolation we heard from the machine. Down, down, down we went, into the very depths of hell, followed by 12,000 pounds of 5th wheel trailer. “Curse you Garmin girl”!
Then, as I was ready to sink into despair and abandon myself to destruction – not to an imaginary ruin, but to the very power of this cursed road, there appeared before me a fork in the road. Not a large fork, but one with just enough room where I could go forward on one, then back up into the other, and by going forward very carefully I was able to turn around and retrace our steps. “Recalculating. Precede four-tenths of a mile to dest…” Click! “Take that you viper” I cried as I turned off the infernal device.
Finally we had retraced our route to an RV resort which we had seen on the way in; Trails End. Now here was a real RV park, with an easy access road to it. Turning onto the road we proceeded to the office in the direction indicated by the sign. Before we could go another twenty feet we found that the entrance had been blocked off with yellow caution tape and orange detour cones. I pulled the rig to an immediate stop, at which time I noticed a man running towards us frantically waving his arms. It turned out that three days ago they had had nineteen inches of rain in less than one and lone-half days and their road and a portion of their park had been washed out. Not to worry, we could take a back road and before we knew it we were snuggly resting in our home on wheels.
Once we got set up I went over to the office to pay for the nights stay. As I stepped up onto the office porch a toothless man with tattoos from wrist to elbow looked up from a table, grinned, and said hello. Three others looked up, grunted, gave a nod with their heads, and then went back to playing cards; a scruffy Pit bull managed a low growl.
When I returned to the RV Sharon expressed her feelings towards the day by showing me this unique shaped rock she had found while taking a walk with the dogs.
Ah yes, the trials of travel. After a wonderful day, we were finally ready to turn in for the night; at the Bates Motel of RV parks.
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