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A Discussion of Coastal Character
The week after our first Hood River trip, I went to visit my friend Bea, who lives on the McKenzie River outside of Springfield. I've written about the area and Bea and her family twice before. The charms of the area are still considerable, but they haven't changed much; and the family is behaving as families do, a new baby, a broken romance, some rough times getting better with the new restaurant and so on. So instead of covering that, I would like to tell you about a short trip Bea and I took to Reedsport on the Pacific Coast, where she used to live.
First I have to tell about Bea's new staying-overnight vehicle. In the last 20 years Bea (and I as passenger and inept helper) have gone through a variety of recreational vehicles and the means to haul them where she wants to go. There was the fifth wheel (a bast*rd to hook up to the pick-up), the motor home (BIG), the trailer (hard to back up and park), etc. Really more than I can remember. She has recently acquired a "pop-up" or "solid wall folding" camper. Actually this is known in the business as an "A-liner," and hers is made by Chalet. Or, maybe A-liner is a brand name that's also generic, like kleenex. Anyway here's a picture of one. It's light and small, has a sink, fridge, table/bed combo etc. and she has put in a portable potty for middle-of-the-night emergencies (and one for the kitty, too). One cool bit is she can pull it with the Geo Tracker that she bought to tow behind the motor home to give her more mobility when she arrived at a destination. So the towee is now the tower. That's downsizing!
But this particular trip was to connect with a bunch of people she met when she was driving a Collins (maybe the fifth wheel?). It's a whole sub-culture as you may be aware. They have an annual camp-out where everyone in a geographic area gets together and one club is the "host" group and responsible for planning and organizing and activites and door prizes. Then the individual clubs get together several times a year to camp together or just meet. This was a potluck meeting. The only order of business appeared to be deciding which charities would receive their Christmas gifts this year and how much, so mostly it was just eating and visiting.
Since I've been single for a long time and most of my friends are also, I don't often spend time with a group like this. It was five couples, Bea and I, and one charming, if spoiled, dog. The couples clearly had all been married for a long time. All these folks are in the early 60s to mid 70s range and relatively healthy and happy. Years are taking a toll, though, the husband-half of one of their group died recently and the wife has hooked up with another single (they didn't come to this party). One is nearly blind from macular degeneration, several have food allergies and nearly everyone takes some kind of medicine -- blood pressure, cholesterol, etc. They were all nice people, several good and generous huggers among them.
The food was generous and good, too, in a potluck sort of way---pulled pork and various side dishes and salads and cake and some absolutely sinful chocolate chip cookies that Bea made. She didn't have to bring a hot dish or anything since we were coming the farthest. I was a guest and didn't have to bring anything at all.
There was some confusion about what time the potluck had been called for (but in the early afternoon) and who was coming. One person in particular we waited for quite a while because he was the one who had asked specifically for the hostess' pulled pork. He never appeared.
While we waited we drank coffee and chatted---the women around the kitchen table and the men in the living room. I don't know what the men talked about, but the women had some wide-ranging conversations. There was, of course, some gossip, particularly about the "new" couple in the group. But mostly it was good, thoughtful, conversation about the state of the country and the land, and their individual lives and what could be done about it. This was not a tableful of liberals, the group has plenty of opinions and convictions, many of them quite "conservative." But they are thoughtful, mature women, who recognize that something is awry in this country and don't waste time talking about the reason or judging. Some description to clarify a topic, some of it anecdotal, much of it more sophisticated than that. An exchange of information about local projects they're involved in and what's working or sometimes what's working for others they know or their children. Or not working and an opinion about why. A low-key and straightforward sharing of experiences among people who have a little time, a lot of caring, but not much wealth.
It was encouraging to think that they probably take ideas from each other back to their own communities. Is it "grass roots?" Is it "think globally, act locally?" They probably don't relate to those terms and I'm sure they don't care. But the pervasive gentleness and humor impressed me the most. I felt like a total clod, when, on the subject of Internet spam, I spoke too quickly, too firmly, too loudly, contradicting one of the group ("Never, never, never respond to a spam message," I said, "it just verifies your address."). A group member who then explained that what I had said, was, indeed a supplement, a further explanation of what she meant.
Of course, Medicare Part D was a major subject. And guess what? I don't think any of them are going to sign up. Despite the fact that we all know prescription drug prices are astronomically and artificially high in the US (well, we apparently are supporting most of the world's drug research, so I guess it's not artificial), the monthly drug outlay for this group is not high enough for them to buy into a program that they all think is not very well thought out and certainly not likely to benefit them---typical blue to white collar retirees. So it was an interesting time, and gave me some new perspectives to think about.
Sleeping in Bea's a-liner also encouraged new perspectives. We decided to sleep head to toe to maximize room in the narrow bed and it all would have worked out beautifully if the cat hadn't been so excited about the novelty of it all. And if I could have flung my body more gracefully from the back of the bed, over Bea's knees, to the front when it was my turn for the middle-of-the-night trip to the portable potty. Bea's great at leverage, even when she's not awake, so it worked out okay.
While we were camping at Reedsport's fishing dock community, Salmon Harbor at Winchester Bay, about four miles south of Reedsport, we also ate at a very, very good Thai restaurant (Pah Tong's Thai Restaurant & Lounge), did some shopping at an excellent Christmas shop (Kitty's Kitchen is Christmas Forever) AND found a perfect gnome for my neighbor, LouAnne!
I've told you before that I've been looking for a gnome for LouAnne for quite a while. And LouAnne has been looking for quite a while, too. But the gnome can't be too tall, or too ugly or too garish or be pushing a wheel barrow, or be sitting on a toad stool, or petting a cat, and so on and so forth. I think buying a gnome for yourself is almost impossible. Never mind Yahoo's roaming gnome; it's just a marketing device, with no real character and anyone can buy one from Yahoo.
So, when we entered a little gift shop (maybe 150 sg. ft.) on the south end of Winchester Bay, not at all close to the area where tourists are likely to stop, and there was an okay gnome out front, I felt hopeful. The bored lady proprietor/attendant was reading a book and seemed disinclined to hustle any kind of sale. Bea and I were at our most charming and sympathetic about her lack of customers after Labor Day. The shop was filled with ticky-tacky things and rude joke stuff (you know, whoppee cushions that alse make a stink). But also about 8 or 9 really good gnomes.
Eventually we got her to talk about the gnomes by admiring them profusely. I mean REALLY PROFUSELY!! All out of proportion to what any gnome deserves. Ultimately she told us that her husband makes an annual trip to China to the factory where the gnomes are created. He looks at the new designs and picks out the molds for the gnomes he wants to buy and he picks out the colors for their shirts, pants, vest and hats, etc. We didn't find out WHERE in China (possibly she doesn't know), but it was a good story, if not told with much enthusiam. AND we bought LouAnne an absolutely wonderful gnome. For an amount of money that was well within my budget (we don't want LouAnne to know that it didn't cost an arm and a leg). We didn't know it at the time, but the gnome is named Clarence. He's sort of hobbit-like, but not so broad, quite jolly, but dignified, dressed in lovely earth and sky tones to blend in, totally outdoor-proof, an all-around fine figure of a gnome. And he's even gone on a little gnome trip already, compliments of LouAnne's son.
Although there could be many more things to tell about this community (Coast Guard Lighthouse, dune buggies, fishing and crabbing, elk-vewing), this trip was short and the end of the adventure was driving back into the valley up the Umpqua River. On its way to the coast the Umpqua runs through some lovely valleys. The river bed is wide, rocky and shallow for much of the run into the ocean from the coast range. But the highway has been built on the south side of the river and the half-mile expanses of river meadows and shallows are generally on the north side. Close to the ocean, though, the river more evenly divides the valley. Just up river from Reedsport is the Salbasgeon Inn. It's named for the major fish you can catch just there---the SALmon, BASs and sturGEON. Despite the contrived name, it's a good place and if you want to fish this river, you couldn't do much better.
After that first idyllic valley, though, the hills loom close over the road. And there are often mudslides. Bea's youngest son, Mike, a truck-driver who used to drive out of Reedsport, tells a story of taking off early one morning (5:00 am or so) in a good rain storm and getting about 20 miles upriver before he was stopped by a major mud-slide. He backed up for a mile or so until stopped by another mud slide. And then sat there watching empty boats, bits of cabins, refrigerators, docks, cows (some live, some dead), tables and smaller flotsam float down the river, talking to his dispatcher, who could do nothing. Eventually, a state patrolman climbed to the top of the rear slide and hailed him, so he climbed up and over and got back home. And even later, things were cleared and the load went on over to the valley. This is how life is there. The road is out, there are no fresh vegetables, the electician can't get here. Damn. Well, we'll figure out something.
Going east, up the river, up the valley, you go through small communities, all of which live that way, self-contained, but dependent. A church posts a sign "Thanks to all who made the school potluck a success!" As I travel through them, I wonder, "What was the potluck about? What does separation of church and state mean here? Does anyone even think about it?" The answer, of course, is No. The ACLU and its battles has no meaning here. At least to day-to-day life. Ah, but the Constitution. I bet every resident has a clear idea about his/her responsibilities and privileges.
So, this edition of the travelogue has been a little contemplative and not very descriptive. Don't despair. Next up is Barbados. I think it will be more entertaining.
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