91/17/07 Report from Winchester Bay

17 September 200
Hi Family,
I am comfortably ensconced in ‘Lil Big Foot at Windy Cove “B” at Winchester Bay. Last year I made a reservation for space #1 because Dee thoroughly enjoyed the site where she could look out of her window and see the activity on the bay. ‘Lil Big Foot takes so little space on the site that I should sublet the remainder to the next forty footer that comes looking for a place to stay. I’ve set up the site so I’m ready for some heavy duty crabbing for the next couple of weeks; shelter is up over the table ( it will probably blow down in the first serious wind), my new grill is up and operating ( the old one that I used for fifteen years rusted away to inoperability), my trusty cooking pot is at the ready and a new lighter is in place to light the fire for the first cooking.
‘Lil Big Foot (it really is a Big Foot Camper albeit the smallest that the company makes) is a tight fit but workable. I sacrificed one of the key kitchen cabinets to install a microwave. The sacrifice left me with a whale of a challenge in finding places for dishes, pots and pans, silverware, and, oh yes, food. I have everything on board but I imagine that after a few trips I will have rearranged stuff so that things work a little smoother. For the last couple of days I have had a bit of a struggle cooking dinner not really knowing where I put the can opener, the silver ware, a microwavable dish and such. I haven’t gone hungry so I guess things are working. The greatest challenge however is learning how to walk sideways as I move across the broad expanse of my living room/den/dining room/kitchen etc. Oh yes, and to duck when I go out the door. I am enjoying the bed to which I’ve added an “under you” electric blanket; a pleasant hold over from ‘salty that works beautifully in its new home.
My trip north was uneventful. I drove through to Canyonville ( The Seven Feathers Indian Casino for the geographically impaired), a 440 mile hop. I stopped at a rest area along the way for lunch and a nap and felt as though I could have gone all the way (another 120 miles). The Indians at Seven Feathers have set up a nice spot for Rvers to spend the night at no expense, just like Wal-Mart. I took advantage of the casino sandwich shop forgetting that the “whole” sandwich is really designed to be shared with someone. Likewise the generous serving of ice cream that goes with the sandwich. I managed to eat everything served me but seriously wondered why.
Since I couldn’t sign up for a slip for my boat until Monday (who ever heard of a civil servant working on a weekend?) I took my time setting every thing up. I fulfilled my promise to myself that I would enjoy the wonderful Fish and Chips that a local dockside restaurant serves. The meal was every bit as good as I remembered from the past, even if the tab had increased by 50% over last year. I also answered to a handbill that was posted all over this little town announcing a “Rising Star” performance in the Community Hall, a reclaimed one room school house. For $5, including dessert, I was treated to a young, mid twentyish, country western singer who sang mostly songs that he had written. He had a marvelously developed nasal twang that he used to belt out ballads that spoke to 1) his sisters divorce from a really lousy brother-in-law, 2) his mother’s labor pains when he was born, 3) his unrequited love for a girl he has yet to meet, 4) the Ford Mustang convertible that he can’t afford to buy and 5) a whole bunch of lovely songs that each sounded exactly like 1 through 4. The local audience (about 50 hardy souls and me) clapped loudly when the singer paused and laughed loudly at his comedic efforts between each song. Even though I was seated at the rear of the hall, and one of the first to arrive at the dessert table, I found myself helplessly adrift as all fifty of my fellow concert goers rushed the goodies table. Somehow I managed to get “my” piece of layer cake but only because a septuagenarian belle who had been giving me the eye all evening managed to save a piece just for me. I gratefully accepted the gift and headed for the door.
Smoozing on the crab dock late Sunday afternoon, I managed to engage a couple of locals in the discussion of the day; why aren’t we catching more crab? One knowledgeable fellow set the answer in stone providing the missing piece of the puzzle that we mortals would never figure out by ourselves. Our informed friend told us that the big problem is that the “bar” where the Umpqua River enters the Pacific Ocean has silted up to the point that power boats now have great difficulty getting through. My new friend stated knowingly that if boats can’t get over the bar the crabs probably can’t get through either. He strengthened his conclusion with the “fact” that there had actually been a dredger that was brought in to “lower the bar” but it was taken away and sent to New Orleans before it had a chance to begin its work on the Umpqua bar. He further added that most of the commercial fishermen had moved out of Winchester Bay because of their difficulty and danger in “crossing the bar”. So, if it turns out that this year is another poor crabbing year, you’ll know why.
So with my first day of crabbing today, Monday, I brought home seven crab. My next door neighbors, who claim to be the best crabbers in the camp, only caught six and they were working six traps to my three.
My former neighbor, Cyril Bonnano, became really interested in my crabbing adventures when I described past trips to our Rotary group in Honduras. Before the discussion ended, I invited Cyril to come along this year. He planned to drive up for a few days in conjunction with a visit to relatives on the Northern California coast. Unfortunately, Cyril found himself in the hospital last week with a bacterial infection, something he could have picked up in Honduras. He called while I was on the road Saturday to say that if he got his health back in the next few days he would be on his way to Winchester Bay. I have my fingers crossed but Cyril was still pretty much under the weather on Saturday.
I have a companion for part of my way across the country next May when I head to the two graduations. Paul is interested in riding along with me a part of the way east. We don’t know how much time he will have yet but whatever works out will have him catching a plane to return home somewhere along the way. That sounds like a really great idea to me.
I will be here until the 29th of September. I will then head to Seaside for the Regional Bridge Tournament where a Director’s class will be conducted on October 3,4 and 5. I will start my trek home on the 5th and arrive back in Pleasanton by October 6 or 7.
Life is great!
Love to all
Grandpa Dad