Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Thursday, October 4, 2007
3/October 2007
3 October 2007
Hello again from Seaside, Oregon,
I found some people who wanted to play bridge after visiting the “partner table” at the Oregon Coast Regional Duplicate Bridge Tournament. I decided that if I wanted to play some bridge I would have to take the bull by the horns and jump into the fray. I was a bit surprised to find literally dozens of people milling around the partner desk with same idea. The busy lady quickly lined me up with a man of about fifty who had just started playing competitive bridge earlier this year; Stan Roberts from Mercer Island, Washington. He had already accumulated a little over 100 master points so we were in the same ball park in terms of experience. He told me that he was a math major who worked as an actuary for a large insurance company. He was anxious to earn some “gold” points so we looked for another pair so we could enter a “knock-out” game. In this kind of game, teams are paired with similarly experienced players and play twenty-four hands with opposing pairs playing the same hands from a different direction. We found another pair from Springfield, Oregon. Jerry and Janet Walsh formerly lived in Los Angeles where Janet was an elementary school principal.
Our first game was Monday night and we managed to out score our opponents by a slim margin. Tuesday morning we played a second round and won handsomely gaining entry to a third round Tuesday afternoon. In the third round we were knocked-out and thus were out of the competition. We were pleased later to hear that the team that defeated us went on to win first place in our category. At least it took the champs to beat us. We ended up in third place in our bracket and earned a total of 5.12 master points; 1.7 of which were gold. One needs to have 25 gold points to become a life master.
This afternoon our team entered another knock-out session but lost in the first round by a score of 59 to 60. My partner and I bid two hands poorly leading to our demise. Considering that the two of us had never played together before, we decided that we had done pretty well. Stan’s brother will be coming to town tomorrow to play with him so I think I’ll forget about anymore bridge on this trip.
This morning I attended the first of the three session in the Bridge Director’s Class. I’ve been studying the rules of bridge for the past three months but I learned an awful lot in the first three hours. Tomorrow we will continue the lessons with the final day, Friday, devoted solely to taking the qualifying test for the Bridge Director License.
I plan to be packed up with the camper and boat parked at the curb for a quick get-away after the exam. I will return via the coastal route, Hwy 101 south, to New Port and then Hwy 20 through Corvallis back to I-5. With luck, I’ll make it to the Seven Feathers Casino for dinner and a stay-over in their courtesy RV lot. If that occurs, I should be back at home Saturday night.
It has been my habit for years to check the weather page each morning as I read the daily newspaper. The OREGONIAN this past week has predicted rain each day this week, with absolute correctness, and rain each day in the announced five day forcast. When I have commented to locals about the reports, I get the quick response that, “Hey, it’s supposed to rain in Oregon, you know”. What can I say?
You know, this camper life gets to you pretty quickly. I would really like to head North instead of South. I’m enjoying my new life style and am looking forward to more time on the road with ‘lil Big Foot.
Wish you could all be enjoying this with me.
I love you all,
Grandpa Dad
Hello again from Seaside, Oregon,
I found some people who wanted to play bridge after visiting the “partner table” at the Oregon Coast Regional Duplicate Bridge Tournament. I decided that if I wanted to play some bridge I would have to take the bull by the horns and jump into the fray. I was a bit surprised to find literally dozens of people milling around the partner desk with same idea. The busy lady quickly lined me up with a man of about fifty who had just started playing competitive bridge earlier this year; Stan Roberts from Mercer Island, Washington. He had already accumulated a little over 100 master points so we were in the same ball park in terms of experience. He told me that he was a math major who worked as an actuary for a large insurance company. He was anxious to earn some “gold” points so we looked for another pair so we could enter a “knock-out” game. In this kind of game, teams are paired with similarly experienced players and play twenty-four hands with opposing pairs playing the same hands from a different direction. We found another pair from Springfield, Oregon. Jerry and Janet Walsh formerly lived in Los Angeles where Janet was an elementary school principal.
Our first game was Monday night and we managed to out score our opponents by a slim margin. Tuesday morning we played a second round and won handsomely gaining entry to a third round Tuesday afternoon. In the third round we were knocked-out and thus were out of the competition. We were pleased later to hear that the team that defeated us went on to win first place in our category. At least it took the champs to beat us. We ended up in third place in our bracket and earned a total of 5.12 master points; 1.7 of which were gold. One needs to have 25 gold points to become a life master.
This afternoon our team entered another knock-out session but lost in the first round by a score of 59 to 60. My partner and I bid two hands poorly leading to our demise. Considering that the two of us had never played together before, we decided that we had done pretty well. Stan’s brother will be coming to town tomorrow to play with him so I think I’ll forget about anymore bridge on this trip.
This morning I attended the first of the three session in the Bridge Director’s Class. I’ve been studying the rules of bridge for the past three months but I learned an awful lot in the first three hours. Tomorrow we will continue the lessons with the final day, Friday, devoted solely to taking the qualifying test for the Bridge Director License.
I plan to be packed up with the camper and boat parked at the curb for a quick get-away after the exam. I will return via the coastal route, Hwy 101 south, to New Port and then Hwy 20 through Corvallis back to I-5. With luck, I’ll make it to the Seven Feathers Casino for dinner and a stay-over in their courtesy RV lot. If that occurs, I should be back at home Saturday night.
It has been my habit for years to check the weather page each morning as I read the daily newspaper. The OREGONIAN this past week has predicted rain each day this week, with absolute correctness, and rain each day in the announced five day forcast. When I have commented to locals about the reports, I get the quick response that, “Hey, it’s supposed to rain in Oregon, you know”. What can I say?
You know, this camper life gets to you pretty quickly. I would really like to head North instead of South. I’m enjoying my new life style and am looking forward to more time on the road with ‘lil Big Foot.
Wish you could all be enjoying this with me.
I love you all,
Grandpa Dad
Monday, October 1, 2007
1 October 2007
Hello from Seaside Oregon,
The two hundred and fifty mile jaunt from Winchester Bay to Bend, Oregon was a beautiful drive. The trip up into the mountains on the North side of Mount Bachelor and through the tourist destination of Sisters, Oregon was a real pleasure. The previous evening the first snow fall of the season left a dusting of snow on the local peaks and along side the highway at the top of the pass. Oregon style fall colors were beginning to blossom at the higher altitudes with brilliant gold and reddish rose colored bushes gave one the feeling that it was almost like the Green Mountains of Vermont, sans the brilliant reds of the maples.
Sisters was full of day visitors, as always, seemingly anticipating the joy of the little village when snow is on the ground. The Solvang like crowds drifted from specialty shop to shop and then to cross the street at random in search of yet another shop full of the wonders of buyable handicrafts. I stopped for lunch at one of the many restaurants available and then took my afternoon nap before moving on to Bend.
My new GPS took me into the Carroll’s neighborhood through several of the new subdivisions that have increased the population of Bend by nearly 500% over the past dozen years. Each of the new homes in this area is on a wonderfully large lot with lots of pine trees to keep the perspective of what Bend is all about.
I made it to Dick and Sally’s house before the UC Berkeley University of Oregon game was finished. I sat quietly enjoying Cal’s win as the Carroll’s anguished the loss right up to the last seconds of the game. Dick and Sally’s daughter earned her doctorate at UO and is a member of the school’s teaching staff (head of the department specializing in speech correction) and their granddaughter graduated UO last June. It makes sense that they were cheering for the locals and I felt badly that their team lost (kind of).
Sally served a marvelous meal, as usual, before we returned to the telly to watch USC almost get beaten by Washington State. I couldn’t help but cheer for Washington State and they almost pulled off the upset of the year. At least USC learned that they could be beaten.
Even though Dick and Sally were insistent that I use their guest room, I chose to sleep in my own bed in ‘lil Big Foot. The evening before the thermometer dropped to twenty-eight degrees and they feared for my future. As it turned out, I was snug and warm as it wasn’t nearly as cold as the preceding night. Prior to bedtime, the three of us enjoyed reminiscing about people that the Carroll’s knew in Pleasanton before they escaped to their paradise in Bend. Sally met the dawn of the new day with a marvelous breakfast that prepared me well for a day of driving to the coast.
The Carroll’s made an excellent suggestion for my drive to Seaside, directing me to HWY 26 that curves around Mount Hood and follows for a while the path the Deschutes River. The route took me across Oregon’s high desert through the agricultural town of Madras, the agricultural capital of Oregon. I was surprised to see an area that seemed to be about twenty miles square devoted to row crops; something one would expect to see around Salinas or the Coachella Valley. Then the road dropped off of the high desert plateau into the gorge carved by the Deschutes River. The road seemed to drop more than a thousand feet into the gorge and then just as quickly climbed back to a similar elevation. As the highway gained in elevation towards a pass of about 4500 feet, the fall colors began to reappear as on my previous day’s trip. It was quite beautiful.
It started raining intermittently as I left Bend with the strength of the rain increasing as I drove West. When I finally reached the Portland area, the rain was coming down by the buckets full. I was surprised by the extent of the traffic moving in both directions along Hwy 26 through the Portland area. I guessed that the thing to do when it rains in Portland is to go visit someone. As I moved further West, I found that my westbound traffic was thinning while the eastbound traffic remained very heavy. I surmised that everyone was coming home from where I was going.
When I arrived at Seaside, I quickly got the notion that my surmise was probably on the mark. This is a place that has everything going for it. Seaside’s earliest claim to fame lies in the fact that a group from the Lewis and Clark Exploratory Expedition, stationed at Fort Clatsop, set up a “salt camp“ at the site of the current Seaside to develop a salt supply for the groups return trip. They boiled sea water for several months to gain the needed salt. This activity gained Seaside the title as the “turn-around site for the expedition. Seaside attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors each year with its historic sites, numerous opportunities for family activities, well advertised restaurants and hotels and lots of shopping. If the usual specialty shops don’t meet
Your needs, a full blown array of “outlet shops” are available for bargain hunters. Throw in an arcade with bumper cars and the like and a locally famous aquarium with seals trained to perform in exchange for being fed by visitors. Now add seasonal classic car shows, the Miss Oregon pageant, classic beach volleyball competition and more. What can I tell you? Seaside has it all.
I checked out the Convention Center, where the Regional Duplicate Tournament is to be held beginning on Monday. I found that the first game won’t be until Monday evening so I found myself with my first “day off” maybe ever. I checked out the town, did a little grocery shopping, searched for an internet café and devoted the rest of the day to finishing another book that I brought along. One of my neighbors in the RV Park had to show me what he has done with his “$800” motor home. He found the unit with a for sale sign on it at the curb near where he lives. He bought it and spent a year restoring it to its original 1978 condition. He described how he hand rubbed and waxed the exterior making it look show room ready. Then he cleaned and polished the interior, over hauling the appliances to that too look like new. Since the rig only has 50,000 miles on the odometer, he figures he will be using it for the next ten years. We’ve all heard of guys who restore old cars. Now we have an example of what can be done with old Rvs. Pretty impressive !
I’ve developed a half a dozen ideas for what I want to do with ‘lil Big Foot to make it work for me. Give me a few months and I think I’ll be ready for some really serious fun.
Put Seaside on your list of places to go and things to do. You’ll like it!
Love to all,
Grandpa Dad
The two hundred and fifty mile jaunt from Winchester Bay to Bend, Oregon was a beautiful drive. The trip up into the mountains on the North side of Mount Bachelor and through the tourist destination of Sisters, Oregon was a real pleasure. The previous evening the first snow fall of the season left a dusting of snow on the local peaks and along side the highway at the top of the pass. Oregon style fall colors were beginning to blossom at the higher altitudes with brilliant gold and reddish rose colored bushes gave one the feeling that it was almost like the Green Mountains of Vermont, sans the brilliant reds of the maples.
Sisters was full of day visitors, as always, seemingly anticipating the joy of the little village when snow is on the ground. The Solvang like crowds drifted from specialty shop to shop and then to cross the street at random in search of yet another shop full of the wonders of buyable handicrafts. I stopped for lunch at one of the many restaurants available and then took my afternoon nap before moving on to Bend.
My new GPS took me into the Carroll’s neighborhood through several of the new subdivisions that have increased the population of Bend by nearly 500% over the past dozen years. Each of the new homes in this area is on a wonderfully large lot with lots of pine trees to keep the perspective of what Bend is all about.
I made it to Dick and Sally’s house before the UC Berkeley University of Oregon game was finished. I sat quietly enjoying Cal’s win as the Carroll’s anguished the loss right up to the last seconds of the game. Dick and Sally’s daughter earned her doctorate at UO and is a member of the school’s teaching staff (head of the department specializing in speech correction) and their granddaughter graduated UO last June. It makes sense that they were cheering for the locals and I felt badly that their team lost (kind of).
Sally served a marvelous meal, as usual, before we returned to the telly to watch USC almost get beaten by Washington State. I couldn’t help but cheer for Washington State and they almost pulled off the upset of the year. At least USC learned that they could be beaten.
Even though Dick and Sally were insistent that I use their guest room, I chose to sleep in my own bed in ‘lil Big Foot. The evening before the thermometer dropped to twenty-eight degrees and they feared for my future. As it turned out, I was snug and warm as it wasn’t nearly as cold as the preceding night. Prior to bedtime, the three of us enjoyed reminiscing about people that the Carroll’s knew in Pleasanton before they escaped to their paradise in Bend. Sally met the dawn of the new day with a marvelous breakfast that prepared me well for a day of driving to the coast.
The Carroll’s made an excellent suggestion for my drive to Seaside, directing me to HWY 26 that curves around Mount Hood and follows for a while the path the Deschutes River. The route took me across Oregon’s high desert through the agricultural town of Madras, the agricultural capital of Oregon. I was surprised to see an area that seemed to be about twenty miles square devoted to row crops; something one would expect to see around Salinas or the Coachella Valley. Then the road dropped off of the high desert plateau into the gorge carved by the Deschutes River. The road seemed to drop more than a thousand feet into the gorge and then just as quickly climbed back to a similar elevation. As the highway gained in elevation towards a pass of about 4500 feet, the fall colors began to reappear as on my previous day’s trip. It was quite beautiful.
It started raining intermittently as I left Bend with the strength of the rain increasing as I drove West. When I finally reached the Portland area, the rain was coming down by the buckets full. I was surprised by the extent of the traffic moving in both directions along Hwy 26 through the Portland area. I guessed that the thing to do when it rains in Portland is to go visit someone. As I moved further West, I found that my westbound traffic was thinning while the eastbound traffic remained very heavy. I surmised that everyone was coming home from where I was going.
When I arrived at Seaside, I quickly got the notion that my surmise was probably on the mark. This is a place that has everything going for it. Seaside’s earliest claim to fame lies in the fact that a group from the Lewis and Clark Exploratory Expedition, stationed at Fort Clatsop, set up a “salt camp“ at the site of the current Seaside to develop a salt supply for the groups return trip. They boiled sea water for several months to gain the needed salt. This activity gained Seaside the title as the “turn-around site for the expedition. Seaside attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors each year with its historic sites, numerous opportunities for family activities, well advertised restaurants and hotels and lots of shopping. If the usual specialty shops don’t meet
Your needs, a full blown array of “outlet shops” are available for bargain hunters. Throw in an arcade with bumper cars and the like and a locally famous aquarium with seals trained to perform in exchange for being fed by visitors. Now add seasonal classic car shows, the Miss Oregon pageant, classic beach volleyball competition and more. What can I tell you? Seaside has it all.
I checked out the Convention Center, where the Regional Duplicate Tournament is to be held beginning on Monday. I found that the first game won’t be until Monday evening so I found myself with my first “day off” maybe ever. I checked out the town, did a little grocery shopping, searched for an internet café and devoted the rest of the day to finishing another book that I brought along. One of my neighbors in the RV Park had to show me what he has done with his “$800” motor home. He found the unit with a for sale sign on it at the curb near where he lives. He bought it and spent a year restoring it to its original 1978 condition. He described how he hand rubbed and waxed the exterior making it look show room ready. Then he cleaned and polished the interior, over hauling the appliances to that too look like new. Since the rig only has 50,000 miles on the odometer, he figures he will be using it for the next ten years. We’ve all heard of guys who restore old cars. Now we have an example of what can be done with old Rvs. Pretty impressive !
I’ve developed a half a dozen ideas for what I want to do with ‘lil Big Foot to make it work for me. Give me a few months and I think I’ll be ready for some really serious fun.
Put Seaside on your list of places to go and things to do. You’ll like it!
Love to all,
Grandpa Dad
Friday, September 28, 2007
28 September 2007
28 September 2007
Hello again from Winchester Bay
Well, crabbing is over for the year. I had days of nine, two and five in the bucket to bring the season’s total to 44. I have about fifteen pounds of crab in the freezer which ain’t all bad as I see it. On my last day of crabbing, I met a game warden on the dock where I keep my boat. He did his usual game wardeny thing and asked me all of his questions the responses to which he punched into his hand held computer. I asked him if it was just me or was this a slow period for crabbing. He smiled and allowed as how the five I had in the bucket made the biggest catch he had recorded in two days. Wasn’t it nice for him to tell the ole’ feller that?
My trusty cell phone stopped taking a charge. It has been harder and harder to plug in the charger and make it work for the last couple of months. All of a sudden it just wouldn’t do its thing. I asked around town about a cell phone store and I was sent to North Bend, twenty miles South. A very nice young lady checked out the charger connection and decided the phone was at fault and probably needed to be replaced. She was nice enough to find the address of the Cingular store in Eugene, an hour and a half drive North. I drove to Eugene and had confirmed that my phone was at fault but the problem could be solved with another “free” phone (with a two year contract). I tried out the phone that was free and I could hear the caller very well so I signed up. When I got the phone home, I couldn’t hear a darn thing. I spent an hour reading the instruction manual but couldn’t find the place that solved my problem. I plan to take it back to Eugene on Saturday when I head that way.
Eugene is on my Saturday path to Bend, Oregon and a visit with Dick and Sally Carroll. We stopped by to visit with the Carroll’s on several crabbing trips in the past and always enjoyed their company. I’m invited to dinner Saturday night and look forward to a home cooked meal by someone other than Bill. Some will remember that Sally and I share the same birth date; day, month and year. We have enjoyed sharing birthday cards for the past twenty years or so.
It has been my good fortune to have had neighbors who only stay for a couple of days and then leave a pile of firewood behind. I have enjoyed a campfire outside of my little home a half dozen nights on this trip. There’s nothing quite like staring into a campfire in man’s eternal quest for truth, or whatever. Everything I have been wearing for the past couple of weeks now smells like smoke, in a nice kind of way.
I crabbed for the last time today and will spend the rest of my stay repacking ‘lil Big Foot and the boat for the return trip, via Bend and Seaside, Oregon. I will have a few days to relax and to prepare myself for the Bridge Director’s Class which begins its three days of sessions on October 3. I haven’t the slightest idea of what I plan to do. I guess I’ll ask my new GPS system to lead me to the local POI (points of interest - that’s GPS talk) and go from there.
Life gets grander by the day……………………
Love to all,
Grandpa Dad
Hello again from Winchester Bay
Well, crabbing is over for the year. I had days of nine, two and five in the bucket to bring the season’s total to 44. I have about fifteen pounds of crab in the freezer which ain’t all bad as I see it. On my last day of crabbing, I met a game warden on the dock where I keep my boat. He did his usual game wardeny thing and asked me all of his questions the responses to which he punched into his hand held computer. I asked him if it was just me or was this a slow period for crabbing. He smiled and allowed as how the five I had in the bucket made the biggest catch he had recorded in two days. Wasn’t it nice for him to tell the ole’ feller that?
My trusty cell phone stopped taking a charge. It has been harder and harder to plug in the charger and make it work for the last couple of months. All of a sudden it just wouldn’t do its thing. I asked around town about a cell phone store and I was sent to North Bend, twenty miles South. A very nice young lady checked out the charger connection and decided the phone was at fault and probably needed to be replaced. She was nice enough to find the address of the Cingular store in Eugene, an hour and a half drive North. I drove to Eugene and had confirmed that my phone was at fault but the problem could be solved with another “free” phone (with a two year contract). I tried out the phone that was free and I could hear the caller very well so I signed up. When I got the phone home, I couldn’t hear a darn thing. I spent an hour reading the instruction manual but couldn’t find the place that solved my problem. I plan to take it back to Eugene on Saturday when I head that way.
Eugene is on my Saturday path to Bend, Oregon and a visit with Dick and Sally Carroll. We stopped by to visit with the Carroll’s on several crabbing trips in the past and always enjoyed their company. I’m invited to dinner Saturday night and look forward to a home cooked meal by someone other than Bill. Some will remember that Sally and I share the same birth date; day, month and year. We have enjoyed sharing birthday cards for the past twenty years or so.
It has been my good fortune to have had neighbors who only stay for a couple of days and then leave a pile of firewood behind. I have enjoyed a campfire outside of my little home a half dozen nights on this trip. There’s nothing quite like staring into a campfire in man’s eternal quest for truth, or whatever. Everything I have been wearing for the past couple of weeks now smells like smoke, in a nice kind of way.
I crabbed for the last time today and will spend the rest of my stay repacking ‘lil Big Foot and the boat for the return trip, via Bend and Seaside, Oregon. I will have a few days to relax and to prepare myself for the Bridge Director’s Class which begins its three days of sessions on October 3. I haven’t the slightest idea of what I plan to do. I guess I’ll ask my new GPS system to lead me to the local POI (points of interest - that’s GPS talk) and go from there.
Life gets grander by the day……………………
Love to all,
Grandpa Dad
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
24 September 2007
24 September 2007
Hello everyone,
Cyril arrived Friday afternoon and we immediately went to sea. It was a bit rough and we only caught two crabs but it was a good introduction to the fine art of crabbing. We enjoyed the crabs for dinner; freshly caught and cooked crab, baked potato, sliced vine ripened tomatoes and garlic bread. The meal was a great start to Cyril’s crabbing adventure. Saturday morning we left early for the bay and a real day of crabbing. The sea was heavy and exciting but we only came home with four crab; a big disappointment for me but a big day for Cyril. We spent some time in the afternoon driving around; the bay checking out the sand dunes and the ATVs that make good use of the wide open spaces available to them. Saturday night I prepared my new Crab Fettuccini for Cyril and he allowed it was “okay”, which sounded like a real compliment to me.
Sunday morning we headed out to sea again and really worked the traps. We came back with just one crab; a real bummer. Everyone I’ve talked to has agreed that crabbing is really poor but still, only one! We cleaned and cooked our “one” crab and decided to do some sight seeing. We drove to Florence and had a wonderful lunch at Mo’s, Florence’s gift to sea food meals. The place was packed, as usual, but we lucked out with a bay side window table that made the day. We returned to Winchester Bay and Cyril packed up and began his return trip home. It was nice have a visitor for a few days.
After Cyril left I recalled that I wanted to share with him my favorite Umpqua River story. When Dee and I took the “Jet Boat Ride” on the Umpqua,six years ago, we enjoyed a story that our guide/driver shared about a school teacher who lived on a ranch on the North side of the river and swam across the river each day where she parked her car that she drove to work. In the afternoon she repeated the swim as she returned home. The story teller insisted that she did this every day for almost thirty years, never missing a day of work in the process. About this time in the story, we each dipped our hand in the water to assure ourselves that the water was really cold; in August. The reality of the situation was that the ranch could only be reached by boat and if the teacher in question had another choice it would have been to take a boat across the river each day probably getting thoroughly soaked most days given the Oregon propensity for rainy days.
I met a sailor today when I stopped at the fuel dock to gas up. The man was doing maintenance on his thirty five foot sailboat prior to going to sea. As I chatted with him I found that he was sailing solo from Ensenada, Mexico to Seattle. I commented that I had been told that the Northwest Coast was one of the roughest sailing venues in our part of the world. He assured me that I had been correctly informed. Then he went on to vent about the difficulty of the trip he had chosen. He said that the weather reports he received hourly were obviously from some other place in the world. He said that on his way North he was informed that the ocean had eight foot swells when actually they were twenty feet or better. He asked me what I knew about the bar at the entrance to the Umpqua. I could only tell him that I had heard that it was badly silted and that difficulty crossing the bar had convinced most of the commercial fleet to move to other Oregon marinas. I suggested that he call the Coast Guard. He had made such a call and was told that they wouldn’t advise sailboats larger than twenty-five feet to try the passage. He had decided to try it anyway. I followed him west on the river as he approached the bar so that he would be crossing at the exact moment of the announced high tide. He made it but after talking with him for awhile at the fuel dock I think I was as concerned as he probably was as he approached the bar.
I worked as hard as I ever have at crabbing Monday morning with only two crabs in the bucket. The total for the past efforts is now at 28, a little behind my take after a week of crabbing last year. An old timer native that I met at the cleaning station told me not to worry. “It’s bound to be better tomorrow - it certainly can’t get worse” was his encouraging advice. For now, all that has been caught has either been eaten or is packaged and in the freezer. Fortunately I have room in the freezer for more.
Love to all……………………………….........Grandpa Dad
Hello everyone,
Cyril arrived Friday afternoon and we immediately went to sea. It was a bit rough and we only caught two crabs but it was a good introduction to the fine art of crabbing. We enjoyed the crabs for dinner; freshly caught and cooked crab, baked potato, sliced vine ripened tomatoes and garlic bread. The meal was a great start to Cyril’s crabbing adventure. Saturday morning we left early for the bay and a real day of crabbing. The sea was heavy and exciting but we only came home with four crab; a big disappointment for me but a big day for Cyril. We spent some time in the afternoon driving around; the bay checking out the sand dunes and the ATVs that make good use of the wide open spaces available to them. Saturday night I prepared my new Crab Fettuccini for Cyril and he allowed it was “okay”, which sounded like a real compliment to me.
Sunday morning we headed out to sea again and really worked the traps. We came back with just one crab; a real bummer. Everyone I’ve talked to has agreed that crabbing is really poor but still, only one! We cleaned and cooked our “one” crab and decided to do some sight seeing. We drove to Florence and had a wonderful lunch at Mo’s, Florence’s gift to sea food meals. The place was packed, as usual, but we lucked out with a bay side window table that made the day. We returned to Winchester Bay and Cyril packed up and began his return trip home. It was nice have a visitor for a few days.
After Cyril left I recalled that I wanted to share with him my favorite Umpqua River story. When Dee and I took the “Jet Boat Ride” on the Umpqua,six years ago, we enjoyed a story that our guide/driver shared about a school teacher who lived on a ranch on the North side of the river and swam across the river each day where she parked her car that she drove to work. In the afternoon she repeated the swim as she returned home. The story teller insisted that she did this every day for almost thirty years, never missing a day of work in the process. About this time in the story, we each dipped our hand in the water to assure ourselves that the water was really cold; in August. The reality of the situation was that the ranch could only be reached by boat and if the teacher in question had another choice it would have been to take a boat across the river each day probably getting thoroughly soaked most days given the Oregon propensity for rainy days.
I met a sailor today when I stopped at the fuel dock to gas up. The man was doing maintenance on his thirty five foot sailboat prior to going to sea. As I chatted with him I found that he was sailing solo from Ensenada, Mexico to Seattle. I commented that I had been told that the Northwest Coast was one of the roughest sailing venues in our part of the world. He assured me that I had been correctly informed. Then he went on to vent about the difficulty of the trip he had chosen. He said that the weather reports he received hourly were obviously from some other place in the world. He said that on his way North he was informed that the ocean had eight foot swells when actually they were twenty feet or better. He asked me what I knew about the bar at the entrance to the Umpqua. I could only tell him that I had heard that it was badly silted and that difficulty crossing the bar had convinced most of the commercial fleet to move to other Oregon marinas. I suggested that he call the Coast Guard. He had made such a call and was told that they wouldn’t advise sailboats larger than twenty-five feet to try the passage. He had decided to try it anyway. I followed him west on the river as he approached the bar so that he would be crossing at the exact moment of the announced high tide. He made it but after talking with him for awhile at the fuel dock I think I was as concerned as he probably was as he approached the bar.
I worked as hard as I ever have at crabbing Monday morning with only two crabs in the bucket. The total for the past efforts is now at 28, a little behind my take after a week of crabbing last year. An old timer native that I met at the cleaning station told me not to worry. “It’s bound to be better tomorrow - it certainly can’t get worse” was his encouraging advice. For now, all that has been caught has either been eaten or is packaged and in the freezer. Fortunately I have room in the freezer for more.
Love to all……………………………….........Grandpa Dad
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Sept.21 Winchster Bay
21 September 2007
Wowee!! On advise from a friend, I tried Albacore trimmings for bait instead of chicken. While chicken was a wonderful bait for the last ten years (is that really possible?), left over albacore tuna really gets the crab. The first time I used albacore, I used it in one of my three traps. The difference in the number of crab in the trap was like eight times the impact of the chicken bait. Needless to say, I am now an albacore tuna convert.
The first albacore carcasses I picked up were from a commercial boat that was selling tuna at the commercial dock. They gave me a couple of carcasses, that which remains after the fillets have been removed, for free. I used those two but the boat was back at sea when I went back for more. Not to worry, the local fish cannery sells the same article for a few dollars per carcass. Now all I have to do is get out on the water on an incoming tide to make my killing. The incoming tide has been in the afternoon the last few days accompanied by gale force winds that make going out on the briny in my little boat questionable. I have been fishing the morning outgoing tides with fair results. Normally one doesn’t catch anything on the out going tide. So far, I have picked up 20 nice crab that are all cooked, picked and frozen.
Tuesday night I was invited to have dinner with a couple that I have known by name and occasional discussions over the past five years. The couple comes to Winchester Bay from their home in Oregon, about an hour and half away, each year at the same time I have been here. The lady, Cathy, fixed a marvelous crab fettuccini and then gave me the recipe. I now have the makings in hand and will create my own crab fettuccini the first time some one makes the request. Be prepared for a real treat.
The same couple, Bill and Cathy Pettus invited me to have dinner with them on Thursday night with Bill’s sister and brother-in-law who are also staying at Windy Cove “B”. We had a wonderful evening together sharing stories of our travels to Alaska and various parts of the United States. Bill and Cathy retired about five years ago and spend most of their time fishing and hunting throughout the Pacific Northwest. They just returned from and Elk hunting trip where Cathy shot her elk but Bill did not. They will leave here in a few days so that they can go to South Eastern Oregon where Cathy’s lottery number was successful and she has a license to hunt a “mule-tale” deer. Bill will go along to help carry her deer out when she is successful but he won’t be able to hunt because his lottery number did not produce a license.
I will look forward to seeing Bill and Cathy many times in the coming years as we all come to Winchester Bay to harvest the wonderful Dungeness crab.
Cyril Bonnano called today to tell me that he was feeling better and that he was on his way to Oregon to spend a few days with me. I don’t know how we will manage sharing my confined quarters but I’m equally sure that it will work out. He will arrive sometime mid day on Friday. Cyril has never experienced crabbing but he is a life long abalone fisherman. He seems excited about the prospect of learning how to catch crab. He will probably be the first to experience my new ability to prepare crab fettuccini.
My crab catch now stands at 20 (that’s a miserly 5 a day) but promises to improve as the available incoming tides grow in a few days. All 20 are cooked, picked and stored in the freezer. Which reminds me that I brought along way too much frozen food that has to go somewhere to make way for tomorrow’s catch.
After the last few days I’m convinced that ‘lil Big Foot and I have a wonderful future ahead of us.
Hugs and kisses to all,
Grandpa Dad
Wowee!! On advise from a friend, I tried Albacore trimmings for bait instead of chicken. While chicken was a wonderful bait for the last ten years (is that really possible?), left over albacore tuna really gets the crab. The first time I used albacore, I used it in one of my three traps. The difference in the number of crab in the trap was like eight times the impact of the chicken bait. Needless to say, I am now an albacore tuna convert.
The first albacore carcasses I picked up were from a commercial boat that was selling tuna at the commercial dock. They gave me a couple of carcasses, that which remains after the fillets have been removed, for free. I used those two but the boat was back at sea when I went back for more. Not to worry, the local fish cannery sells the same article for a few dollars per carcass. Now all I have to do is get out on the water on an incoming tide to make my killing. The incoming tide has been in the afternoon the last few days accompanied by gale force winds that make going out on the briny in my little boat questionable. I have been fishing the morning outgoing tides with fair results. Normally one doesn’t catch anything on the out going tide. So far, I have picked up 20 nice crab that are all cooked, picked and frozen.
Tuesday night I was invited to have dinner with a couple that I have known by name and occasional discussions over the past five years. The couple comes to Winchester Bay from their home in Oregon, about an hour and half away, each year at the same time I have been here. The lady, Cathy, fixed a marvelous crab fettuccini and then gave me the recipe. I now have the makings in hand and will create my own crab fettuccini the first time some one makes the request. Be prepared for a real treat.
The same couple, Bill and Cathy Pettus invited me to have dinner with them on Thursday night with Bill’s sister and brother-in-law who are also staying at Windy Cove “B”. We had a wonderful evening together sharing stories of our travels to Alaska and various parts of the United States. Bill and Cathy retired about five years ago and spend most of their time fishing and hunting throughout the Pacific Northwest. They just returned from and Elk hunting trip where Cathy shot her elk but Bill did not. They will leave here in a few days so that they can go to South Eastern Oregon where Cathy’s lottery number was successful and she has a license to hunt a “mule-tale” deer. Bill will go along to help carry her deer out when she is successful but he won’t be able to hunt because his lottery number did not produce a license.
I will look forward to seeing Bill and Cathy many times in the coming years as we all come to Winchester Bay to harvest the wonderful Dungeness crab.
Cyril Bonnano called today to tell me that he was feeling better and that he was on his way to Oregon to spend a few days with me. I don’t know how we will manage sharing my confined quarters but I’m equally sure that it will work out. He will arrive sometime mid day on Friday. Cyril has never experienced crabbing but he is a life long abalone fisherman. He seems excited about the prospect of learning how to catch crab. He will probably be the first to experience my new ability to prepare crab fettuccini.
My crab catch now stands at 20 (that’s a miserly 5 a day) but promises to improve as the available incoming tides grow in a few days. All 20 are cooked, picked and stored in the freezer. Which reminds me that I brought along way too much frozen food that has to go somewhere to make way for tomorrow’s catch.
After the last few days I’m convinced that ‘lil Big Foot and I have a wonderful future ahead of us.
Hugs and kisses to all,
Grandpa Dad
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
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
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
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