HalfShell Fine Arts: October 2011

Cheney, Spokane & Rossland Trip, September, 2011

This has been a magical trip, somehow. I'd been looking forward to it, and it lived up to my expectations.

My plan was to leave home late enough that I'd miss the morning commute traffic in Seattle, which is easy for me to do since I'm not a morning person. I left Suquamish at 9:20 on Tuesday, September 20. The weather was fine – unseasonably warm, in fact. I'd just missed a ferry so I had a wait. I got through downtown Seattle and onto I-90 East without any trouble, though just doing that is in some way troublesome. Heavy traffic almost to the summit, but then it just eases off completely. I stopped at Indian John Hill Rest Stop, east of Cle Elum, a great spot which has somehow gotten to be a tradition in my family. It's the first exposure to that dry Eastern Washington air, so very different from the climate in which we live in Western Washington. Since the dry climate is the one I grew up in I'm always happy to feel it. It seems like coming home in some way.

On to Moses Lake, where I planned to stop for lunch. I got somewhat misplaced there before

I finally found the 'traditional' lunch stop in Moses Lake: Safeway. Well, it has a Starbuck's, after all. Can't remember what I bought, besides a latte, but it must have been something I could eat on the road . I pulled off at the Schrag rest stop – yes, there's a place named Schrag and I have pictures to prove it - cause I was getting sleepy, and took a power nap. I got to Cheney in time to take a short walk, trying to shake the stiffness of a day's driving, before I met Barb at her park-n-ride. At Barb's house we were joyfully met by her two dogs, sweet old Cinnamon and the new girl Ladybug. Ladybug looks about as much like a ladybug as I do. She's half Rottweiler and half beagle. Visualize. Buck, her husband, got in very late – which is often the case.

The next morning I went in to Cheney proper to an old high school friend's house. What a lovely person she is indeed. She's active in the Cheney Garden Club, among other things, and has a beautiful yard. I'm so glad I got in touch with her! I mentioned to her that I'd like to take a walk before I headed north to meet another friend, Cathi, in Deer Park. Janet suggested a wildlife refuge just a couple of miles from Cheney. I went there and was utterly delighted. Not that I actually saw any wildlife, except for grasshoppers and squirrels – but I didn't stay long so I didn't give the wildlife a chance. I definitely want to go back there – and if you're in the neighborhood I recommend giving Cheney's Turnbull National Wildlife Refuge a look.

I headed in to Spokane and then north from there to Deer Park. The drive north out of Spokane is very familiar to me because that's the route from town and my dad's work to the home I grew up in on the Little Spokane River. It goes past the mall where we did lots of shopping (now much bigger than it was then) and past my grade school. The city has grown northward so the outer reaches are much different, but the town part is eerily The Same. Deer Park, where I was to meet Cathi, is about 20 miles north of Spokane. I happily greeted Cathi and her two little dogs, Taffy and Wolfie, and then followed her off to her Cabin in the Woods. And the adventure began!

Cathi's son Phil and his family live in a house north of Deer Park which is the jumping-off point for getting to her cabin, and also past which a car can't drive (though a truck can get further on). We

grabbed a few easy-to-carry items and Cathi's small dogs, on leashes, and set out on a rutted road through the woods. The woods open into a small meadow with a stream running through it. There's a car bridge which is half done. There is a footbridge (pictured) which consists of two 6 x 6's stretched about 12 feet across the stream, which is 6 feet or so below the bridge. Falling probably wouldn't be fatal, but it would be wildly inconvenient and probably painful. So it just wasn't an option. I'm a serious wimp about such things – but by the second or third trip across I was doing it with aplomb. Well I call it aplomb.

Cathi had dinner all cooked, and reheated in the kids' oven, so when Phil got home from work he piled dinner, the cooler, our personal gear, and his family & dog in his truck, drove to the bridge, and carted all said stuff over the bridge and up the hill to the cabin. Cooking and eating is all done outdoors there – so we ate at the picnic table in the pine trees. It was warm and pleasant, a lovely evening. But there in the northern hills it cools off very quickly and thoroughly at night, so after lingering over the campfire for a while kids and granddaughter went home and we went to bed at 9 o'clock. If you know anything about me you know 9 o'clock is early evening for me. It was toasty in the cabin cause Phil had built a fire in the woodstove. But it wasn't an airtight stove, and the fire died quickly, and the temperature dropped quickly. I had been seduced by the warmth and went to bed wearing too few layers. After a couple of hours I hadn't fallen asleep and was shivering. I rummaged around in my travel bag & found a sweater, which I wrapped around myself. That helped for a while. Then I had to get up to use the outdoor loo – and was shivering again when I got back into the sleeping bag. After a while I rummaged around and found an extra blanket. That helped for a while. Then I was cold again. Then I started getting leg cramps. Ordinarily I'd get up and walk around and the cramps would abate – but it was much too cold to get out of the bedding, so I did what I could to

get rid of them by thrashing around. Eventually they went away. I was still cold, hadn't slept, and it must have been 2:00 a.m. I had one last option: wool socks, which I found and put on. With this extra insulation I finally did fall asleep – and when I awoke at 7:30 or so the sun was shining in the door, Cathi had a campfire going, and all was well with the world. Except that I was a wee bit exhausted. After coffee and toast, Kayla and Emily came back to the cabin and helped us clean up. Imagine, if you can, Emily's help. She's one and a half! Just having her around is a delight.

We “broke camp” and got all our gear back to the truck, with Kayla doing much of the heavy work. Cathi and I walked back to the house, with three dogs – Cathi's two and the resident golden lab, Kya. We packed our cars and headed for Cathi's house at Newport, Washington, me following her over dusty gravel roads – at as much distance as I could manage and still see her through the dust. Once there, Cathi got out her childhood scrapbooks. She made lunch while I tore through her snapshots and scanned everything I wanted a copy of. This is such a blessing for me. I lost my childhood scrapbooks years ago, so I'm trying to recreate things every way I can. My nears and dears will be thrilled... or at least amused... to see what I scrounged. THANK YOU Cathi!

We had stopped at the Amish store in Newport before lunch. If you happen to be in Newport, go there. Good groceries, very reasonably priced. Lots of things not ordinarily found in small-town grocery stores.

I drove back to the Barb and Buck's in Cheney that afternoon. I was tuckered out – and slept long and well that night. Friday morning Barb and I meandered up north, to Rossland, B.C., stopping for lunch in Chewelah, Washington. I can't remember the name of the cafe but it was amazingly good. Barb had cod burritos and I had chicken satay. Who'da thunk there'd be such choices in a dinky town? AND I got a latte to go. We left feeling very fortunate.

We checked into our motel in Rossland and then went across the street to the museum. We had an appointment to meet Joyce Austin there, to find what we could about our maternal grandfather, W. J. Harris. We didn't find a lot, but Joyce said she'd keep her eye out for anything that turned up. We wandered around the grounds after our meeting – amazed at the size of the turn-of-the-twentieth-century machinery required to get

ore out of mines and off to smelters. The mines of Rossland have been closed for many years, but ole W. J. made a bundle there before he skipped out to Spokane.

We had dinner at the Magic Steamshovel. Again, we had interesting choices and good food. The following morning, Saturday, before leaving town, we went to – ready? - garage sales! We got a few good items, though nothing specific to the area (like for instance a gold nugget). We decided to drive around a bit so went up the road to Trail. We were getting very hungry – but had a bad experience with terrible service at the first place we tried. We walked. Eventually we found an odd but very shiney little '50's diner, with basic diner food. Barb loved her pulled pork sandwich and my hamburger was good too. Then back down the road toward Cheney. We went via Lake Roosevelt and stopped for a break at Evans State Park. There was a swimming area roped off. I declined to swim, but afterward I was sorry. I'd brought a suit with me. The water didn't seem too cold. Kids were swimming. Why didn't I?

The next morning, after church, Barb and I went off to see her daughter, Aubrey, and Aubrey's daughters Kaylee, Taelar and Jaiden (pictured). Aubrey suggested that we visit the

Nishinomiya Tsutakawa Japanese Garden at Manito Park in Spokane. Nice idea! I used to go there with my parents not too long ago, so I thought of them as I wandered. And of

course I thought of the kids, cause they were clamoring all the way along the paths. It's a beautiful spot. The Japanese Garden in the Arboretum in Seattle is beautiful, too, and more lush, but I think the Spokane climate is more like Japan's, so things seem to fit well. Those pines, those pines....

After the Japanese Garden and a little sidetrip to a playground in the park we all met Buck for dinner at an Azteca in the Spokane Valley. I think Azteca must be the Denny's of Mexican food. It's always what you expect, so it's always a safe bet. Starbucks has the same place in the world of coffee shops.

We'd had an early dinner so Barb and I had time afterward for a couple of games of pool. I'd looked forward to playing with her because she's good – much better than me. And I hoped I'd learn a lot, which I did. It was lots of fun. But now what I really must do is go to a tavern somewhere and just practice. Practice. Practice.

The next morning, it was time for me to head for home. I'd decided to get to Western Washington late enough to miss rush hour traffic, even if it was dark by then. So I had all day for the trip, and sort of zigged around the middle of the state – adding miles to the trip but seeing things I wanted to see. I actually drove through Ephrata, where my parents lived for quite a while (ten years or more?) after I had left home. I could remember the name of the street they lived on so I drove down it but didn't recognize the house they'd been in. That was a long time ago.... I got onto Highway 2, and stopped in Waterville for lunch, at the Coyote Pass Cafe. I recommend it. I was lucky again. I had good homemade soup and a genuine real biscuit.

Then steeply DOWN to the Columbia River, and south along the river to East Wenatchee. I took a quick break at Lincoln Rock State Park – only long enough to stretch my legs and take a couple of snapshots. In East Wenatchee I visited relatives, who live in a beautiful retirement community there. I hadn't seen them for a long time so it was good to catch up. I mean to go back.

Then, for the last challenge of the trip – over Stevens Pass and back down into the bustle of Western Washington, and a ferry ride home. The road over Stevens is two-lane most of the way. Luckily for me, there was little traffic, because the further up I went the harder it rained and the darker it became. Finally, the rain was nearly blinding. Then – the summit, and as I headed down, the rain abated, until, at Monroe, there was no more rain and a little light remained. But then I took a highway I knew nothing about (far be it from me to have a GPS or consult a map). It said it was going toward Seattle and that was good enough for me. As a matter of fact it was a good road, but it said nothing more about where it was or where it was heading. Finally, somehow I was in Bothell, going through what seemed like an old downtown, and then, as if by magic (though I like to think it was my good sense of direction) I was on Bothell Way, and I remembered Bothell Way from 30 years ago, and I knew where I was and how to get to the Edmonds Ferry, and I did it unerringly. I'm very proud of this bit of the trip!

Not only did I find the ferry easily, but it was loading as I drove up, so there was absolutely no wait. I was home before I knew it. Great trip!

HalfShell Fine Arts

Monday, October 3, 2011

HalfShell Fine Arts:

HalfShell Fine Arts: Spokane and North to Rossland

HalfShell Fine Arts: Spokane and North to Rossland

HalfShell Fine Arts: Spokane and North to Rossland

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Grrrr

Spokane and North to Rossland

Blog Archive

About the blog