Harvest Ride and alpacas!

Instead of yet another triathlon, I convinced my spouse that it would be a much better idea to do a bicycle event. Notice that I didn't say race, I said 'event'. We had long heard that the drive along I-84 in Oregon was worth a look, so we headed south.

The Hood River Harvest Ride: 'a family-friendly bike ride through the less-traveled majestic back-roads of the Hood River Valley'. If kids can do it, it can't be that bad right? Five loops to mix and match from, produce stands and rest stations along the way? Sold.

Mt. Hood appeared on the horizon behind the orchards. (Mt. Adams was visible in the opposite direction). Mountains are so cool. I hope I never get tired of looking at them. I'm a little tired of looking at sagebrush, but that may be to expected.

After the ride, we were treated to homemade lunch (some hippie provided a huge tub of lentil salad...must have been from Portland) and fresh produce from the surrounding orchards. We left with bags full of apples and pears, all courtesy of local farms provided free for the riders. As we were nearing the end of one of our loops, it occurred to me that I should have searched to see if there were any yarn shops in the area. It's not a big town though, so I didn't really figure there would be much. Not but five minutes later, we saw a blue informational highway sign (keep in mind that we're on a country backroad in BFE) letting us know that CASCADE ALPACAS OF OREGON FOOTHILLS YARN 1.0 MI <----. One of those official state blue highway signs, and it and a couple others appeared along our designated biking route until the last quarter mile or so.

We had to go, natch. At the end of a twisting back road and up a hill, some alpacas and their adorable cria were hanging out. Surprisingly there were a number of cars in the parking lot, and people milling around looking at the alpacas. I guess the blue signs work? I suppose they worked on us...

Sammy was waiting in the car and couldn't contain himself with all of the awesome smelling fuzzy creatures milling around outside. He started barking his head off, and all of the alpacas came out to see what the fuss was about:

What's that guy's problem?

Right on the farm was a full service yarn shop. They had all kind of selection, but for the most part it was stuff that you could get anywhere. I wanted something hot off the alpaca!

You know how they say it's important to go local. I had a bit of sticker shock on the first skein I picked up...so I went in for something small. Only one ounce, so I'll have to think of something special and small to make (any thoughts?). A touch I enjoyed: each skein has the names of the alpacas that it came from. Mine is from Phoebe, Onya, Sparkle, and Dutch....I think Sparkle gave it that extra pizzazz, you know?

Coeur d'Alene or: Puppy's First Camping Trip

Getting the hell out of Dodge on weekends has almost become an imperative. On our way driving from Wisconsin to Washington we passed through Coeur d'Alene, a touristy town with replete with forest and a big lake. We headed up north to go camping on the outskirts of town, you know, experience the solitude of the forest and get away from it all.

Oh hai, interstate.

Well, we got the forest, but quiet was in short supply. The otherwise acceptable campground was situated about 100 m from the interstate. Still counts...

This was the first time we've tried to take Sammy camping. He loves hiking and generally running around outside like a crazed animal, but we weren't sure how he'd fare sleeping in a tent. The verdict is that he wasn't crazy about it...every time we'd roll over or move in any way he'd jump up and dart over to the door in the hopes that we were getting up to let him out. When either of us would leave the tent, he'd stick his head out the open zipper part of the door, plant his feet and refuse to move. Passive resistance, he was like a furry little Gandhi.

The trusty Forest Service dirt roads took us into some quiet areas.

Fancy terlet.

We hiked up to what was billed as a 'lookout' area.

Lookout...for someone shooting at you.

It may have been a lookout point a decade ago, but the treeline was way to high to actually see much of anything. The lookout building had since been used extensively for target practice. We had to find our own lookout points.

My spouse spied a store called CDA Yarn and Fiber downtown. He seemed to think that hadn't bought any yarn for too long and that I needed to get some. And really, who am I to argue?

Something called "Plymouth Earth Homestead". I'm a sucker for undyed yarns.

Malabrigo, pretty standard stuff.

We tried to get Sammy to go canoeing. He's done it before in Madison, figured it would be no big deal, right?

Dubious.

Mmm, yummy beef jerky if you come down here!

Big baby.

Hate you guys.

The second night, we were going for a nighttime walk through the campground, and spouse comes up to me and says, "Do you know what Joe Tiller looks like??" and I'm all, "Bitch, please, of course I know what Joe Tiller looks like." I suppose you might not, unless you are also a Purdue graduate (or just a fan)--JT was the football coach at Purdue while we were students there and was, how do you say, kind of a big deal.

"Go look in that RV and tell me that is not Joe Tiller." Come on, no way. So of course I had to creep up to the trailer and peer in. And the guy hanging out in the kitchen in what was presumably his jammies did indeed look like big Joe. But he's a generic walrus-esque looking older gentleman, so I really needed a better look, ala Hank in Breaking Bad. 

Hank suspects that this is the mobile meth lab RV...

Spoiler alert: it was an older couple in their undies playing cards.

OK, it didn't work out so well for Hank, so we refrained from excessive espionage, but a check of the license plates (Wyoming, where he retired) and a quick look at some articles on what he was up to these days (traveling across the west in an RV with his wife) confirms that we had a celebrity fellow camper. We made plans to don some Purdue sweatshirts the next day and stroll by while they were having breakfast.

And then it rained all next morning. They never came out of the camper! We were relegated to creepy stalkers. Maybe we'll run into him on our next camping trip.

 

If you go west...

Seemingly it takes me three weeks to post about events. So...hot..outside. I'll blame it on that.
One of my buddies who lives in Seattle popped over for a weekend visit. Hijinks were minimal, but we did get over to the Cascades for some hiking. I present to you some more northwest eye candy:

Snow again! Sammy was pumped. Of course he rolled around in it.

The destination was a small lake. Too cold for swimming--I wish I could say the same about the Tri-Cities....

If you go east...

Look, I don't want to be all doom and gloom. Washington has some kick-ass geography. Earlier last month, we decided to head east, away from the Cascade mountain range and into the Blue Mountains. We picked out a route in the Umatilla National Forest, packed some supplies and headed out.

After about 90 minutes of driving on your standard issue paved highways, we turned off onto this.

Unsealed goodness.

We passed a few farmhouses. I wondered how many people they saw drive by in a day. I'd guess 0-2 would be average.

Plenty of farmland.

OK, getting into some forest now.

We went for about 30 miles on dirt roads. There's something perversely satisfying about the crunch of gravel and dirt underneath the car tires (or is that just me?).

Sammy donned a safety vest so that no one would mistake him for a wild animal.

Every time we ran across some snow, he felt the need to rub himself around on it. Who knows...

The crux of the trail was a fire lookout on 'Oregon Butte' (located in Washington, for those of you at home keeping score). It was unmanned--must not be a fire hazard time of year, or maybe the rangers were the victims of budget cutbacks. I think manning a fire lookout sounds like such a fantastic job, but it's probably one of those that seems awesome for about the first week until you realize you're bored out of your mind. But man, that one fire that happens every couple years or so would be the highlight of your career.

But you can't argue with the view!

Arrival + Moving cross country days 4 and 5

So as you can imagine, I've been pretty busy. Moving 2K miles across the country, starting a new job and such. I keep telling myself I need to write some posts, and then saying I'll do it tomorrow, then repeat. The short story is we've gotten all moved into our rental house (that has a pool! we're working on getting it opened for the season now), and I've had a full week of work. Mostly orientation and training as you might imagine, so pretty boring so far.

We've been exploring the area already, and...it's surprisingly pretty sweet. It's not full on desert and there is plentiful beautiful dry weather fauna, and there are a lot of rolling hills (foothills to the Cascades I suppose?). Also, WINE EVERYWHERE and lots of it. Columbia Valley vineyards, yo.

But first I need to take you back to our drive through Montana which was both gorgeous and yarnalicious. I'm very happy to be living Montana adjacent. Our fourth day of travel was spent in Bozeman, MT. They had recently had a snowstorm so we stopped by the Bridger Bowl ski area. The lifts weren't open but Sammy had a good time.

Bozeman supported not one but two yarn shops within a block of each other downtown. The first was called something incredibly generic like "The Yarn Shop" I think. I picked up some Thirteen Mile Lamb and Wool yarn, which is from a farm in southwestern Montana. They produce a lot of products including lamb and beef, yarn, sweaters, hats and all kinds of other wool items. One thing on their tag caught my eye, 'Predator Friendly: Native carnivores pose real risks to sheep ranchers but they are also part of what makes this landscape special and functional. We have made a commitment to use only non-lethal methods to protect our livestock from predators.' This has been a constant debate in Wisconsin among farmers (and I assume in Montana), and it's nice to know that some people are committed to the idea that we have to share our land.  

What should I become?

The second place we visited was called Stix, and had a little more of a funky feel. It was situated in the basement of a building, but the stairway was clearly marked.

They carried a lot of common brands as well as a few unusual ones, including the Bay Area "A Verb for Keeping Warm". The clerk said they are one of 6 vendors in the US that carry the line. The entire time I was in Berkeley I kept trying to get spinning classes arranged there, but it never worked out. I wasn't even tempted to buy any of the yarn though, shit is EXPENSIVE. Instead I went for more local Montana fare, Western Sky Knits. I think it needs to become a big fluffy hat with a poof ball on top.

 

Day five we spent in Missoula, MT, and it was another surprisingly fun town. Loopy Knit/Crochet was my yarn destination this time. If this was my local yarn shop, I don't think I'd ever have to order anything online.

They had an extensive selection of Noro yarns, which I had never seen in person but I know some people go wild for. I have to say, I don't get the love. The colors were...OK, I guess, but the quality of the yarn seemed just awful to me. Maybe the fibers are dusted with crack. I went for Mountain Colors, from Corvallis, MT. I don't think they actually produce the wool there, they just do the dyeing. Local? Still counts.

It's sock yarn, but I don't know if I want socks from it.

Moving cross country, day 3

When we were starting to plan our drive to Washington from Wisconsin, I held a strong opinion on only one subject: I wanted to see Mount Rushmore. I feel like every other kid has had a pilgrimage to Rushmore (usually in the form of a an excruciating road trip crammed into the back of a station wagon), but I've never seen it.

When the metaphorical shit hit fan in regards to getting our move on, the copilot was hot on the idea of trying to get back on our original schedule. Which meant driving for 12 hours and skipping Mount Rushmore. My only ambition for the trip. I put a Mount Rushmore foot down (which is a huge granite presidential foot, of course).

Aaaand BOOYAH! Trip = total unqualified success, everyone go home now. And on Memorial Day no less, very apropos.

Apparently the original plan was to sculpt all of them down to the waist, which would have been at least twice the work of what was actually completed. But the $$ ran out, and what they ended up with is still awe inspiring.

I was feeling a little sad over breakfast about, you know, the whole major life change thing happening. My copilot thought it over. "Would it make you feel better if I took a picture of you where it looked like you were picking George Washington's nose?"

Why yes, yes it would.

On a little bit of a whim, we also went to see the (mostly unfinished) mountain sculpture of Crazy Horse. An absurdly ambitious endeavor that's been in progress since 1948, if it's ever finished (and that's a big if) it will be the largest sculpture in existence. All the heads of Mt Rushmore combined are the size of the Crazy Horse head. We were dubious that it would be worth the price of admission, but a couple minutes after we arrived they blasted a section of the rock with dynamite. Blowing stuff up real good is a quintessential part of the American experience.

Crazy Horseing - the new Tebowing?

On to Bozeman, MT.