I was writing in our library when Peggy urged, “Curt, you have to come in here and check out the sunset.”
Four or five times a year we get dramatic sunsets at our house. It is always a time to stop whatever we are doing and watch as the sun lights up the clouds with gorgeous red, orange, yellow and purple colors. The front of our house, which faces a westerly direction, provides front row seats for watching the show. These photos don’t require any description. Enjoy.
As the sun completed its evening show, the Red Buttes took on a dark blue look. The show was over.
NEXT POSTS:
Blog-a-book Tuesday: I contemplate killing the ‘lost’ Trekker who had decided to go on a detour but failed to tell anyone. The Four Mouseketeers discover a new pastime at Robinson Flat that their mothers definitely would not approve.
Travel Blog Thursday: Sunset Bay: Beauty, weirdness, and geology
Peggy and I arrived in Bandon on a stormy day and drove over to the Face Rock State Scenic Viewpoint as soon as we had checked into our campground. Face Rock was shrouded in rain and mist. There’s a legend that says you can hear a woman’s voice in the wind if you listen. It all sounds like an appropriate Halloween tale…
According to Native American lore, the beautiful Indian maiden, Ewauna, arrived with her father, Chief Siskiyou, in the Bandon area for a major potlatch. Ewauna had never seen the ocean and immediately fell in love with it. (For those of you who aren’t familiar with the potlatch concept, the object is to give things away to guests, the more you give, the more you are admired.)
What’s not to love about the beautiful ocean beaches near Bandon? This photo is looking south from the Face Rock Scenic Viewpoint. The rock in the distance is Haystack, which I featured in my last Bandon post about the Devil’s Kitchen State Park. The two people among the rocks provide perspective.
“Don’t go near the ocean,” the old men of the tribe warned Ewauna. The evil spirit of the ocean, Seatka, lived in the waters along the coast and apparently had a thing for beautiful young Indian maidens. But what young woman full of life listens to old men? That night there was a great feast as part of the potlatch. After being stuffed with bear and deer and elk and berries, and mussels and clams, everyone drifted off to a deep sleep. That is, everyone except Ewauna.
She quietly got up, careful not to wake anyone, and slipped off to the ocean taking her dog, Komax, her cat, Tenas Puss Puss, and Tenas’s kittens with her. She carried the cat and kittens in a basket. Ewauna ran up and down the beach with joy and jumped into the ocean for a swim, telling Komax to look out for the cat and kittens. Out she swam, farther and farther, as Komax barked louder and louder, warning her of the danger. Suddenly an ugly monster surfaced and grabbed her. It was the evil spirit, Seatka.
Komax stopped barking, grabbed the basket in his mouth and swam madly out to rescue his mistress. Dropping the basket, he sank his sharp teeth into Seatka’s arm. Good boy! The evil spirit screamed in anger and pain, grabbed Komax, and threw him far out into the ocean. For good measure, he also grabbed Teanas Puss Puss and her kittens, tossing them as well. He then increased his grip on Ewauna, squeezing her tight.
“Look into my eyes,” he demanded. He could only possess her if she looked at him.
“Never!” she had replied, staring steadfastly up at the sky and moon. And that is how Chief Siskiyou found her the next morning, still staring up at the sky, refusing to let the evil spirit to possess her. And that is where you can find her today.
Coming back the next day, Peggy and I found Ewauna still staring up at the sky with a smile on her face. Still free. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Her pets, too, have been turned into rocks (shown on the right) and wait faithfully for her.Later we returned to the beach to watch the sunset and found Face Rock turned orange by the setting sun. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Speaking of faces I caught this photo of Peggy as the wind had fun with her hair at the scenic viewpoint.
While Face Rock gives its name to the scenic viewpoint, there are a number of other sea stacks to admire.
Photo by Peggy Mekemson.Photo taken from inside a cave by Peggy.Peggy caught this unique shot of the sun sinking into the Pacific Ocean. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Mine was more traditional.I’ll conclude my Bandon series with this dramatic evening look of sea stacks at Face Rock. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
NEXT POST: After a thousand posts, it’s time to consider changes in my blog.
My first participation in elections is close to ancient history. It started when Adlai Stevenson ran against Dwight Eisenhower for President in 1952. My parents were dedicated Republicans. Family loyalty dated all the way back to Abe Lincoln and the founding of the Party. It’s not surprising that they sent their 9-year-old child off to school proudly wearing an I Like Ike button on election day. Another set of parents, equally devoted to the Democratic Party, sent their fourth grader off to school wearing a VoteforAdlai button. It was inevitable that we would meet up for a debate.
It took place in the boys’ bathroom, conveniently away from adult supervision. Neither of us knew enough about the issues to carry on a rational discussion, however. After about five words, we reverted to describing the other person’s candidate with as many expletives as we knew. Sound familiar? I was well-practiced in the art form. When I was younger, my brother and I had often held swearing contests where we creatively cussed each other out for fun. My opponent lacked this experience and I easily won the debate. I was still teasing him when we went outside for recess.
Unfortunately, his sense of humor had gone south and he was carrying a baseball bat. He reared back and smashed me across the thigh. (I’ve often suspected he had a slightly higher target in mind.) As it was, I ended up in the hospital with my thigh muscle the size of a softball, or was that a basketball. I was ever so glad that my man Ike won. Revenge can be sweet.
It was a painful lesson, but I learned two things from the encounter.
The first was quite obvious: Never get in a political argument with someone carrying a baseball bat. The second was more complicated. There had to be a better way to resolve political differences.
The best answer that we have been able to come up with as a nation is democracy.
There is nothing guaranteed about our form of government, however. As astute leaders have noted for the past two hundred years: The price we pay for our liberty is eternal vigilance. There are always people who will rob us of our independence for their own personal gain or ideological beliefs. But there is more, our system of government is based on a few simple concepts. These are some that came to mind.
Our democracy…
Reflects the majority view of Americans while, at the same time, protects the basic right of minorities.
Provides stability while adjusting to new challenges and changing needs.
Is more pragmatic than ideological when it comes to solving problems.
Recognizes that compromise, coalition building, and across-the-aisle cooperation are essential to the decision-making process in determining the nation’s best interest.
Provides for a peaceful transition of power.
More than anything else, people have to believe that democracy works, that their concerns and interests are represented and addressed, and that they receive a fair hearing. When they lose this faith, our democracy loses. We all lose.
The single most important element in protecting American democracy is our right to vote and an uncompromising commitment to a smooth and peaceful transition of power.
While getting out the vote is a time-honored practice in American democracy, suppressing the vote of those who don’t share a particular perspective is a dark and dangerous path that will inevitably lead to a dark and dangerous future. Numerous examples of suppression exist today in the 2020 election from tampering with the mail system, to making voting difficult, to spreading misinformation, and to threatening voters via the mail, phone and internet. When direct physical intimidation of voters is encouraged, whether it is people carrying AR 15s— or baseball bats— to polling places, the dark times are that much closer.
There are reasons why the Putins of the world, both outside and (sadly) inside our country, wish to reduce our faith in the democratic process. It weakens our nation and points toward an autocratic future— a future that few of us want to see.
Americans are a hardy breed, however. We have been fighting for our rights ever since the founding of the nation with an ever increasing and inclusive definition of citizenship that reflects the changing world we live in.
And we are not going to stop now.
Millions of Americans have already voted regardless of how many hurdles have been thrown up. In fact, they are dancing and singing in the multi-hour-long lines that voter suppression has played a role in creating.
If you haven’t voted yet and are a citizen of voting age— regardless of your sex, ethnicity, color of skin, age, health, economic position, religion, sexual preference, occupation, other differences, or political party— PLEASE VOTE. Our democracy is depending on you.
Only a guy with a little Devil in him would offer his sweetheart a bouquet of sea palms washed ashore by a turbulent ocean. She wasn’t too impressed. (Photograph by Peggy but the words are all mine.)
If place names are any judge, the Devil does get around. There are literally dozens if not hundreds of locations in the US named after him. New England seems to win the prize for the most, which is understandable since the Puritans were among its first settlers. They saw Hell in just about everything.
The Oregon Coast has more than its share of Devilish locations, however. There are 10 places along the coast alone that bear his name. Among them are the Devil’s Punch Bowl, Cauldron and Churn and various body parts including his Elbow and Backbone. I was reminded of the various cathedrals in Europe that stock up on the bones of saints to impress the holy and solicit their offerings.
Peggy and I dropped by his Kitchen on our visit last week to Bandon, Oregon. I’d been there before and speculated in a blog on how the Kitchen got its name. The answer provided by the sign-board seemed a little prosaic in comparison to my speculation. It had to do with the cold waters of the ocean bringing a rich brew of nutrients to the surface that were eaten by plankton, that were eaten by small fish, that were eaten by bigger fish, that were eaten by still bigger fish, that were eaten by seals, otters, and a whole host of seabirds, not to mention people and anything else that could sink their teeth into them.
Possibly if you were on the receiving end of this long chain of being eaten, you might think that the Devil was involved.
I’d still go with a Devil rock like this. Stare at it long enough after imbibing in your favorite mind altering drug and who knows what you might see. After a mere two glasses of wine I saw four sets of dead eyes staring back at me. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)This large crooked rock towered above the Devil rock above. That’s kelp buried in the sand to the right of it.
Mainly, Peggy and I saw a beautiful beach with some great sea stacks, crashing waves, impressive homes, driftwood, a quiet stream, and two driftwood forts that had either been built by energetic kids eager to fight pirates or adults reliving their childhood. I could see our son Tony enthusiastically joining his three sons on such a project.
The large sea stack just off the coast from Devil’s Kitchen is known as Haystack Rock.Peggy discovered that a cave ran all the way through the massive rock and allowed the ocean to flow through. It is one of many such caves in the rocks off the coast of Bandon. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)I took a close up. At a really low tide, you could probably walk through to the other side.One thing, we had no problem social distancing on the beach at Devil’s Kitchen, as Peggy demonstrates. We were still carrying our masks, however.It had been storming the day before and waves were still crashing ashore.Some very impressive homes had been built on the cliffs above the beach. I figured this house could easily accommodate a large family with a dozen kids, or maybe 20. I’m a small-house type of person but with a dozen kids, I would definitely want this one!And another oneI was even more impressed by the rock in front of the house. I’d almost feel safe in case of a Tsunami. This section of the coast is threatened by a giant one as the Juan De Fuca Oceanic Plate continues it dive under the North American Continental Plate and threatens a massive earthquake. The last really big one with a rating of over 9 on the Richter scale was in 1700 and they are known to occur every 300-500 years. It could be a hundred years from now. Or tomorrow. I’d blame the Devil.This driftwood fort was not quite as fancy as the houses but a heck of a lot less expensive. A mom and three kids were playing in it. “Can I take a photo?” Peggy asked. The answer was, “Of course.” You can barely see the family. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)I found this driftwood fort just around the corner. It had been decorated with rocks and kelp.It was built at the base of an impressive rock.While on the subject of driftwood, I though this piece set off by ocean grass was rather attractive.
Piles of kelp and other sea treasures had been ripped away from their firm attachments to rocks by the stormy seas the day before and were left behind on the beach.
Piles of kelp like this were found strewn over the beach at Devil’s Kitchen and other beaches along the coast neat Bandon.Peggy took this close up of the kelp.This photo gives an idea of the length of the kelp plant from where it is attached to a rock on the ocean floor up to its leaves.This shot I took of a family carrying a kelp gives an even better idea!Here’s another use for kelp that I confess I have tried on occasion— using it as a whip. It is so tempting! And also a bit devilish. Get thee behind me Satan.Kelp wasn’t the only thing ripped from the rocks. Peggy was charmed by this plant and took its photo. Note the roots. All of these plants had ways of attaching themselves to rocks that resist all but the most powerful of ocean waves.Like these mussels and barnacles we found on the Devil’s Kitchen beach, for example. I think that the mussels had been harvested by seabirds.I’ll conclude today with this impressive pile of kelp backed up by the Pacific Ocean and Haystack Rock.
NEXT POST: We will be traveling up to the next beach north, Face Rock with its marvelous sea stacks.
We returned to one our favorite go-to places on the Oregon Coast last week, Bandon by the Sea. The area features the wave-tossed Pacific Ocean, magnificent rock sculptures known as sea stacks and a charming town. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
I’ve blogged about Bandon before. And will undoubtedly do so again. The coast with its crashing waves and towering rock sculptures calls to us. And the town is charming. It comes with good restaurants, fun art, cranberries, cheese, and a bookstore—no town should be without one. While Winter River Books is small and doesn’t include a book-store cat, it is well-stocked for its size.
One of the books I bought was the “Roadside Geology of Oregon” by Marli Miller, a professor of earth science at the University of Oregon in Eugene. Our library includes a number of books from this series on other states as well. If you have ever found yourself curious about the rock formations you are seeing beside the road, these books make wonderful traveling companions.
I am going to do three posts on Bandon this time. The first is on art in Bandon. Next will be the Devil’s Kitchen State Park. There are interesting houses hanging out on the cliff, sea stacks, and forts made of driftwood. I am also going to take a look at what the recent storm tossed up, mainly kelp, piles and piles of it, plus a bouquet of sea palms for Peggy. I’ll conclude the series with a visit to Face Rock State Park and its famous name sake. While there, I will include a number of other sea stacks/rock sculptures that we admire and can never get enough of. As always, our cameras were quite busy!
The art of Bandon: Not surprisingly, it comes with an ocean emphasis.
Meet Nora the Salmon. She is one of a number of sculptures in Bandon made out of trash collected on the beach and created by Washed Ashore, a nonprofit dedicated to raising awareness about all of the garbage we are pouring into our oceans around the world.A close up. Nora is a fun sculpture with sharp teeth and a serious message.Henrietta the Rockfish, another fun sculpture by Washed Ashore, was decked out in her Covid-19 mask, bringing us two messages at once.And finally there is Grace the Humpback whale whose tail tells a tale of trash.A close up. An information board next to Grace listed a few of the items used in the sculpture. Included: water bottles, hat visors, a toilet seat, golf balls, a cooler, a steering wheel, flip flops, toy wheels, boots, and an umbrella handle. But enough trash talk, there are a number of other art works scattered throughout Bandon. These are from along the Boardwalk.I’ve always been intrigued by this carved wooden sculpture of an octopus with its waving arms.And this carved seahorse. I immediately thought of a merry-go-round. Like so many cities and towns today, Bandon has its share of murals.This dramatic totem pole was a next door neighbor to the two fish murals shown above.Main Street, Old Town Bandon, is filled with small shops and restaurants. We always walk along the sidewalk and find something of interest. The book store is a must. But there is also great chocolate to devour, good food to experience, and craft beer to drink. There is also a toy store that Peggy finds irresistible in her ceaseless efforts to spoil our grandchildren. While she was checking out games, I found this crow. I thought a close up of its beak appropriate for Halloween. I’ll conclude today with this wild looking fish that was part of a mural. It was my fave!
NEXT POST: Peggy and I visit the Devil’s Kitchen State Park where the ocean crashes against the rocks, interesting homes hang out on the cliffs, forts are made of driftwood, and storm-fared kelp is tossed up on the shore.
I went for a drive Saturday through the small towns of Talent and Phoenix, Oregon. It was heart-rending. Today’s post features photos of the devastation caused by the Almeda Fire.I found this sign just across the road from the above photo.
When Donald Trump came to California two weeks ago to comment on the devastation caused by raging wildfires in California, Oregon, and Washington, he was asked about the impact of global warming on the fires. Here is his response:
Well, I don’t think science knows, actually… When trees fall down after a short period of time, they become very dry — really like a matchstick… And they can explode. Also leaves. When you have dried leaves on the ground, it’s just fuel for the fires… It’s a management issue… It’ll start getting cooler… You just watch.
Peggy and I don’t buy the ‘It’ll start getting cooler” argument, but we do take forest management seriously. We spent $20,000 this past year doing what we could to fireproof our property. And it didn’t involve ‘sweeping the floor’ as the President recommended a couple of years ago, cleaning up the leaves and fallen branches. We had forty, 80-100 foot trees cut down on our five-acres removed. They were dead as in d.e.a.d. Ten years ago when we moved in, they were happy and healthy. The years of drought and excessive heat killed them. As it has millions of trees across the west. Yes, good forest management is important, but all the management in the world will not save forests when draught combines with 100° F heat, high winds and fire. Nor will it save towns, as Talent and Phoenix learned.
Peggy and I prepare for fire, obviously. We live in a forest. Fire comes with the territory. We spend countless hours working outside and doing what we can to reduce the danger. But we are also prepared to vacate the premises, to ‘get out of Dodge,’ to skedaddle! When a level two warning is issued, we will be packed and out of here. Forget level three. We have lists. Things are organized so we can grab and go. The greater the danger the less we will grab. Quivera the RV is packed and ready right down to clothes, tooth brushes and tooth paste, everything we need to live. If our house burns down, it will be sad, but not tragic. “We’ll just buy a new RV (sorry Quivera) and hit the road,” Peggy says.
People who live in towns and cities have different expectations. Homes burn down, yes, but not towns. Back before all of the codes designed to prevent fires were adopted and before modern fire departments came into being, they did. But not today. Except they do. Ask the residents of Talent and Phoenix, or Santa Rosa, or Paradise or numerous other small towns and cities that have been caught in the paths of raging fires over the past few years.
Peggy and I know the communities of Phoenix and Talent well. I was born in Ashland where the fire started. Until recently, our doctor’s office was in Talent. (It still stands about 200 yards away from where I took the top photo.) One of my great grandfathers and a great, great grandmother are buried in Phoenix. She came across the country in a wagon train. I fear, but don’t know for sure, that the graveyard was wiped out.
The fire came on fast and ferocious. So fast that people were literally running down the street, leaving everything behind. “It came like a huge wave,” an 82 year old woman stated. A man reported that he had been working when he heard the first warning. He dropped what he was doing, jumped in his truck, and broke speed limits heading for his home so he could save his cat. He was too late.
My Saturday drive was heart-rending as I looked at the devastation. The following photos capture just a small portion of what I saw.
Some areas were totally devastated. This photo and the following two close ups give an idea of the furnace-like heat of the fire.Note how the roof here was literally melted. Also, I am amazed that the propane containers didn’t blow up. Safety valves must have released the gas and allowed it to burn off.Like in most of the fire damage, it is difficult to determine exactly what you are looking at. You can spot a seat in the cab of this vehicle and a large saw blade.This photo gives an example of just how totally things were destroyed.Here, a chimney was left standing.A burned out car was in front of the chimney. I rendered it in black and white. Shades of grey were how I felt.Here’s the car by itself.And how about this truck.I thought this photo was interesting in that it showed a totally destroyed car but in the background is a Rite Aid the fire didn’t touch. I parked my truck in front of the store. It was open and doing business. It has always amazed me how a fire will destroy one property and not touch the one next to it.A boat that will never sail again…A bed mattress that will never be slept on…A child’s wagon that will never be pulled…A tool box with tools that will never be used…And a doorway to nowhere…Wasn’t sure what this was but it looked a little evil to me, like what we can expect from global warming…And this was simply sad.I will use this car lot for my final photo of the damage done by the fire that ravaged Talent and Phoenix. It came on fast and furious, torching anything that got in its path. There was no time to move these cars. There was barely time to get out and survive.
Global warming is real. Extreme weather will not go away by denying its existence, or by claiming “It will get cooler.” Fires will continue to rage, hurricanes will become more frequent and more powerful, polar ice will melt and the seas will rise. Expect more floods, droughts, tornadoes and other types of extreme weather. We owe it to ourselves, children, grandchildren and future generations to do everything humanly possible on a national and international level to reverse this trend. Playing ostrich and burying our heads in the sand is not the answer.
The boys are now hanging out together. A situation that will change as their interest in the girls makes a quantum leap in the next couple of months. This buck’s antlers were still covered in velvet and growing when we left on our road trip in June. Now they are ready to do battle to win true love, or at least a quickie.
Since I am still working on my next post on the 1908 Great Race, I decided to throw in a quick update on life here on Oregon’s Upper Applegate River. First, fall has arrived. Leaves are beginning to turn and the white oaks have produced a bumper acorn crop— a fact that has the deer all but climbing the trees.
The big leaf maple trees growing down in our canyon are adding a splash of yellow.The plump, white oak acorns here are delicious this year according to squirrels, deer, turkeys, woodpeckers and bears.The deer start with the acorns that are easy to reach…And then up they go, standing on their hind legs…It’s quite a reach.Meanwhile, the kids have been growing up. The spots are just about gone. This one is all legs.The birdbath continues to serve as the local watering hole. It’s time to refill!The bird feeder continues to attack the attention of various and assundry animals. It still hasn’t totally recovered from the time in June when the huge black bear used it for tether ball practice. BTW, we haven’t seen him since our neighbor threw firecrackers at him. He left us some scat, however. BIG scat. But what the heck is this animal? Is that a large mouth?Turns out it was the hind foot on this fellow!The forest fires continue to have a major impact on our area. The towns of Phoenix and Talent, which lost approximately 2500 home and businesses, were totally devastated and are still under evacuation orders. While our home was never under a direct threat, the air pollution has been some of the worst in the world. This is what it was like a week ago looking down toward the Applegate River in front of our property, a couple of hundred yards away. Rather than poison our lungs, we decided to escape to Florence on the Oregon coast.The closer we got, the cleaner the air became. This is the Umqua River. My dad lived near here in the 70s. Rain clouds, not smoke! A welcome sight.A creek along the way. Driving to and from the coast is almost as good as being there.Even the elk seemed happy to be breathing clean air. This herd can almost always be found along Highway 38 near Reedsport.Florence is one of our go-to places on the Oregon Coast. We like to stay at the Siuslaw Marina campground because it is an easy walk into its historic town. It was packed with RVs, a sign of the times. This is at the Marina where the Brandy was selling freshly caught tuna off the boat at $3.00 each. Fog was rolling in.There are always seals to amuse us. This one was tracking through the water like an arrow shot from a bow. The old pilings from days gone-by add a touch of mystery.Some of the pilings even came with character. Looks a bit like Wile-e-Coyote.Possibly a giraffe with a furry tail.Here the pilings provide foreground for Florence’s iconic bridge.This one provides a convenient location for a cormorant to dry its wings. A sand dune provides the backdrop. Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area starts just south of Florence.Florence has a considerable amount of art for a small town. Most of it reflects local sea life, like this octopus…This great blue heron…And this seal.Peggy and I were impressed with the fact that most people, and this pirate, were wearing Covid-19 masks. (iPhone photo by Peggy Mekemson.)The Marina has an attractive walkway complete with lamps and hanging baskets leading into the town. After five days of breathing clean air, it was time to head home and see what the smoke and fires were doing.I’m happy to report that the smoke had cleared out. Some. Compare this picture looking down on the cottonwoods growing along the Applegate River to the same photo above.A final view of our big leaf maples turning a fall-ish color. Looking beyond the maple, you can still see the smoke hanging in our valley. We aren’t out of the woods yet, so to speak.
NEXT POST: We will rejoin the Great Automobile Race of 1908 as it makes its way to San Francisco.
I glanced out our window Wednesday and saw a massive plume of smoke looming over the mountains. If fire came over the ridge, Peggy and I were packing up and getting out. Fires can travel fast! (Photo from Peggy’s iPhone.)
It’s a bit hard to focus on my Great Race series.
On Tuesday, our whole county was on a Level 1 fire alert, “Dangerous fires are lurking in the area.’ Level 2 is ‘Pack what you need and prepare to leave.’ Level 3 is ‘Get out now.’ The sheriff’s office called to urge everyone in the county to stay off the roads unless they were being evacuated. Portions of Ashland and Medford plus all of the communities of Talent and Phoenix were under a Level 3 alert. I-5, the major north-south freeway for the West Coast had been closed near Ashland. Truckers had abandoned their big rigs on the road.
We had started our morning with a power outage. Extreme winds were playing havoc with the power grid in Oregon as well as creating extreme fire danger. I walked up to where we park Quivera, our small RV, and brought her down to the house. At a minimum we could make coffee. At maximum we could power up the van’s generator and turn on the air conditioner. Temperatures around here have been soaring over 100 degrees F. Fortunately, the power was back on around 10 AM. I quickly filled the bathtub so we would have an emergency supply of water. We have our own well and pump. No power, no water, no toilet. Quivera works in a pinch— and then there is the mountain side. Years of backpacking have trained us. Our shovel is handy…
At about two, we saw a huge plume of smoke southeast of our home boiling up above the mountains where Peggy and I had backpacked two years ago. We watched nervously and discussed putting together our emergency evacuation packet of necessities and a few treasures— like Bone and Eeyore (grin). If the flames topped the mountains we’d be out of here. Bye, bye. The fires can move at incredible speeds. Where we’d go was something of a question since so many areas in California and Oregon are burning. But with Quivera, at least we would have our vacation home with us.
The plume was back yesterday. I did a quick internet search and discovered it was the Slater Fire that had started in Northern California on Monday night. It has now crossed the border into Oregon and burned over 120,000 acres. Fortunately for us (not so much for others), it is not moving in our direction. So far.
This is what the plume looked like on the other side of the ridge. A person took this photo near the Seiad Valley. Peggy and I backpacked into it on the PCT 2 years ago.
We are used to fire danger in our area since our home borders on national forest land. Four years ago, we had to evacuate under a level 3 alert. Towns and cities have always seemed safer. Not this time. Talent and Phoenix, which had been under the level 3 alert, were devastated on Tuesday night. Hundreds of homes and businesses were destroyed, including possibly our doctor’s office. National news coverage showed footage of the fire. It looked like a war zone.
Meanwhile, the pandemic hasn’t slowed down. Jackson County which started off with one of the lowest rates of Covid-19 in the state, now has one of the highest. We’ve been moving backwards in our reopening status. Our masks won’t be disappearing anytime soon.
A chart showing our local Coronavirus rate. And we didn’t even have Sturgis!
And then there is the incredibly weird political situation America finds itself in. I cringe each time I read the news. Each day there are new revelations on the national level. And then there is the local scene. Peggy and I were at the Bi-Mart in Medford on Monday doing our weekly shopping when a guy came in wearing a Trump mask. He asked the woman checking people in if the store carried ammunition for his assault rifle. Who knows what his motivations were, but we kept our distance. Have I mentioned that these are scary times?
A halloween Trump mask very similar to the one the man was wearing in Bi-Mart as he looked for ammunition.
NEXT POST: I’ll get back to the Great Race— assuming the fires, Covid-19, and all of the scary people out there behave.
One of the twins. She had been standing under the bird feeder when a scrub jay flew in and startled her.
I had another post on Rome in the armchair series ready to go. All I had to do was hit the publish button. And then Floppy brought by her twins late yesterday. She has had them well hidden ever since the bear made an appearance. But he hasn’t been around for several days. Apparently it is safe now. Anyway, I promised you photos of Floppy’s babies. Here they are. Enjoy. Peggy and I kept handing the camera back and forth so these pictures are from both of us.
The twins follow along. Floppy was a fawn when we first moved here and has been hanging around ever since. She likes apples and is now the dominant doe in the area. Even young bucks pay her homage.Floppy noticed us taking photos from inside while one of the twins scratched an itch. I think that was a ‘Where’s my apple’ look but we didn’t’ want to disturb the family.Floppy made two complete circuits around our house. We took lots of photos!This is probably about as much cute as you can handle on a Monday morning. Someday this kid will grow into its ears!
“Curt,” Peggy called, “come here quick! There is something small moving through the grass.”
I hurried over to the window. You never know what new animal, bird, snake, lizard, etc. is going to drop by for a visit. This time it turned out to be a fawn, probably on its first venture out from wherever it had been hidden by mom. The doe had just jumped over our fence, leaving her baby behind. Peggy’s mother-instincts kicked in. No need, the fawn easily crawled through the fence.
Peggy started snapping photos. So did I but my camera was beeping at me. I’d forgotten to put the memory card back in after downloading photos. Oh well, Peggy took enough for both of us. It was our first fawn of the season.
The fawn had crawled through the fence and was looking for mom. It is one of the smallest fawns we have seen. And, of course, cute. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)I’m coming, Mom! (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)And I know right where I am going. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)Ah, there is nothing like fresh milk. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)If, I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a dozen times: Stop pulling so hard! (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)Wait, did I just hear a door opening? (Peggy and I were caught as we tried to sneak outside.)We got the ‘Leave my baby alone’ look while the fawn hid behind mom and peered out. “What are those strange two legged creatures, Mom?”
And now for the bear.
Peggy and I came out of a deep sleep at 2:30 am yesterday. Something was crashing around outside our bedroom window. “Bear!” we simultaneously exclaimed! Our neighbor Bryan had texted us on Wednesday to tell us that a large, black bear had rummaged through his garbage the night before. Apparently, it was our turn!
I jumped out of bed without getting dressed, grabbed our heavy duty Mag-lite and made a dash for our patio door. Bears can do a lot of damage in a short time. I threw the door open. Nothing. Our garbage can was my next thought. I had spotted fresh claw marks on it a couple of weeks earlier. I ran though the kitchen and threw open the back door. Again, nothing.
Then I heard a crash on our porch. Damn, the bear is going for the grill, I thought, and went charging through the kitchen, dining room and library. We had already had one Weber grill tipped over and damaged by a bear. I didn’t want to see it happen again. I threw open my third door of the night, this time shining my light on the grill. It, too, seemed fine. Then I noticed that the bird feeder was swinging back and forth and been turned into a crooked parody of itself. The bear had been playing tether ball with it! I pointed my flashlight up our driveway to see if the bear had taken off. He hadn’t.
He was standing 30 feet away staring at me. And he was big, as in BIG. I had only seen one that was larger, and given that it was standing on its hind legs with its feet and claws raised above its head growling at me, I may have exaggerated its size.
“What are you staring at Bear?” I asked. “Haven’t you ever seen a naked man before?” And then I yelled. He leisurely turned around and ambled off up our road. I prefer that my bears run.
I’m sorry I don’t have any photos for you. My mind was a bit preoccupied. He really was a magnificent creature. I suspect we will have more opportunities for photo ops. But here are three pictures for perspective. I’ll close with a final ‘cute shot of mom and baby.
This is our bird feeder after I bent it back into shape. And our back porch. The grill is just off to the right. I had come out the door and was standing on the porch. The bear was standing where I took this photo from.The sound we heard next to our bedroom window was this patio chair being moved by the bear. I’d set my ground squirrel trap earlier in the day and left some sunflower seeds under the table. Apparently, the bear really likes birdseed!And garbage. This is a close up of our garbage can and the claw marks. We will be moving the can into one of our sheds until the bear goes away. I will also take the bird feeder in each night.So I don’t leave you with a vision of a bear slashed can, here’s a final shot of mom and baby as they headed out. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
NEXT POST: I’m assuming it will be on the fabulous market in Barcelona unless the bear comes back or more fawns show up. (Grin)
The Bush Devil Ate Sam is an important record and a serious story, yet told easily, and with delightful humor. This is one of the most satisfying books I have ever read, because it entertained me thoroughly AND made me feel better informed. —Hilary Custance Green: British Author... Click on the image to learn more about my book, the Bush Devil Ate Sam, and find out where it can be ordered.
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