Sunday, I woke up wanting Cowboy Coffee.
The coffee was in Packwood: an hour away 😉
So, I jumped out of bed, and got dressed. I
packed a small cooler with an ice pack, water to cool the scalding coffee (so
I could drink it before I got back home), and half an Italian Sub sandwich
since Sunday was National Sandwich Day 😉 Before I left town, I stopped at Baker’s Corner to grab a Vanilla
Coke & 6 pieces of fried bacon to get me through the morning: 9 AM was just
too early to eat; snacking is about all I can do until around noon – the coke
would wake me up, the bacon was ‘make my tummy happy’ food.
My wakeup thought … Packwood - I'm not ready to push past Packwood to Mt. Rainier. Yet - someday though.
There is no point to the mask wearing - this mask will spread covid through the air vent. ALL the employees were wearing them. People are going through the motions, but the motions are worthless.
As I passed through Toledo, there was road
work going on – so, I was pointed to Detour Arrows. And I laughed as I drove,
thinking, “See Babe … I can do new things without freaking out. And I’m not
getting lost this time because there are signs pointing the way”.
MAP Toledo from Heron Pointe; about 50 mins on backroads w-detour.
Packwood from Toledo; via Jackson Highway backroad access. 1 hr-15 mins.
I liked the fancy design on the silo – the barn was pretty fancy too; the farmer had money to play with: brick was a very expensive way to build back then. Jackson Highway.
Topless ‘Helen seen from Jackson Highway.
Hay baled in a detour field - the old fashioned way that looks a lot better than those stupid white plastic sheathed round bales.
The drive was uneventful, scenic, and
relaxing.
Just the way I like it … and the reason I
avoid the freeway :-D
I will come back this way next month to grab some Tulip bulbs to plant for Spring color.
Mt. Rainier peeking up over the hilltops coming into Morton.
In Glenoma, I passed the RV Park where Bob
lived in our 35-foot Taurus travel trailer for a few years while logging the
surrounding hills – most of his work crew lived there too; there was also a
store and a golf course. Bob liked to golf after work, and he was a very good
golfer – when he golfed tournaments at home, he always brought home trophies
and I bought a wall rack to show them off :-D When Bob lived away from home
for work, he left home every Sunday around noon, and came home every Friday
night – he called home every Wednesday to talk for hours; catching up on what
was happening at home with the kids, and just to hear my voice. Those phone
calls were lifelines for the both of us during those years.
It was in Glenoma, where Bob got pneumonia so
bad I thought he would die – he sounded horrible on the phone that Wednesday he
called and I said I’d feel better if he didn’t try to make it home that weekend
– he didn’t, but he did come home the following weekend, before Christmas eve,
and the kids and I were both scared when he walked through the door: he looked
like he would kill right over – he could barely stand up and he looked like
death walking; he had lost so much weight during the fever that he was rail
thin, hallow cheeked, and had dark rings around his eyes. He looked bad.
Real bad. I got him to his recliner and the kids sat at his feet, crying,
and begging me to let them give him the gifts they had made for him “because he
might die!” I didn’t even try to usher
them to bed – they wouldn’t have gone without a fight: they were as scared
as I was. We all slept in the livingroom that night – the kids like little pups
at his feet, and me curled around him in the recliner: the woodstove burned all
night long. As soon as Dr. Avalon’s Office was opened Monday morning, I took
Bob to see what could be done to counter the pneumonia – diagnosis was rest and
tender loving care; he’d already gone through the worst of it in Glenoma.
When Bob went back to work a week later, in
January, I knuckled down, studied the Driver’s License booklet, and got my
Driver’s License in the Spring – I wanted to be able to get to Bob if he ever
got that sick again … and I never wanted him to feel the need to drive that
sick again, to get home and see that his family was okay.
For years I hadn’t felt the need for a driver’s
license – everything we needed was 3 minutes away from our front door in Cathlamet:
post office, grocery stores, pharmacy, doctor, dentist, lawyers, schools, hardware
stores, hotels, motels, laundromat, nickel-n-dime stores, gas station,
churches, library; everything was minutes away. It only took 7 minutes to walk
from our house to the High School on the hill (6 minutes to the Elementary
school where our daughter went: Stacey was 9, Sara was 4). There was no
need to drive. But when Bob got so desperately sick … suddenly, there was a
real need.
It was also in Glenoma, where Bob lost his
Wedding Ring: he had lost so much weight with that bout of pneumonia, it fell
off his finger on the landing and got trampled into the muck before he noticed
it was even gone: he was so dizzy and just trying to stay alert enough to get
his job done. He didn’t even notice it was gone until he got to the trailer and
started washing the day’s grease and grime off his hands. He said he was sick
with the realization, but he knew he would never find it on the landing – it was
hopelessly gone.
And every time we passed that mountain he
worked that year, we’d look at each other and say, like tarheels, “There’s
gold in them thar hills” – and we’d laugh.
I laughed Sunday too, when I passed it, but
Bob was not there to get silly with. It was a hollow moment. So, I shook the
memory and continued forward on the drive.
But Memory was not finished with me yet – it poked
me hard at the rest area just a bit up the road. The last time I was there was with Bob and our 4 year old grandson, having a little picnic before heading to Lake Tipso.
I hope the crying jags lessen ...
When I finally reached Packwood, I found that
Cowboy Coffee had been sold! The large steel Cowboy silhouette was no longer
lounging against the wind, and it was under new management – and the coffee
itinerary is cutsie stuff, nothing I recognize; or want <:-O But, the girl said she could make
me a French Vanilla: and the coffee was fine – a little strong, but good; and
drinkable! I never liked getting coffee so hot I couldn’t even sip it until I
was back home in the carport … that’s why I always bring chilled water to cool
it off with: but I didn’t have to do that this time; she made it drinkable – I like
that :-D
A lot can happen in 24 months …
Bob sitting a horse; so tall, he made the horse look small – he always looked good, no matter what he was doing. I miss those hands …
BOB. 1967
Mt. Rainier seen from the parking lot, kitty corner from Base Camp Coffee.
Heading back home, passing through Randle, I
noticed a road sign off to the left that said, Mt. St. Helens, and
I thought, “Why not? I don’t mind getting home via Toutle …” So, I sipped
my coffee and turned down the road and towards a solo lobo adventure 😉
Spur of the moment decision passing through Randle ...
On my way with little clues and lots of chutzpah.
The road is awful.
I had flagged people down (just stuck my hand out the window until they stopped) and asked specifically if this road went all the way through to Toutle … I was told that it did.
In my ignorance, I was thinking how 'fun' this was ...
The road got progressively worse.
After what seemed like an eternity of seriously
rough road, hair-raising drop-offs at road edge, and warning of falling rock
along the cliff-side of the roadway – a scenic turnout appeared; I quickly
turned in. There was an actual restroom here; not just a stinking porta-potty.
There is also a fee station, and a Pass requirement. I saw some pretty light
blue trumpet flowers, that at first glance, looked like a ground hugging
foxglove: but it wasn’t – and I can’t find anything like it in online searches.
Forest Passes are unavailable because ranger Stations are closed due to covid. Bob's Senior pass is acceptable – and I can use that.
Pretty little trumpet type flowers. Bear Meadow.
Mt. Rainier & Mt. St. Helens Viewpoint. I was speaking on what I was told …
Location.
Topless Mt. St. Helen’s; zoomed in.
The road getting to this point was like maneuvering
a minefield.
Reality bit at Meta Lake.
There were other people there too, so I asked
a family that looked like they came from logger’s stock (grandpa was wearing
all the clothing, though he was no longer active) if the road I was on would
take me to Toutle – around Mt. St. Helen’s: grandpa said “No – it only goes
to Windy Ridge, then you have to backtrack to Road 99 to Cougar.”
I was not happy to hear that: getting to this
point was a hell ride – remembering what the opposite lane looked like on my
way here was scary. The side I came up on was atrocious … going back, on the
opposite side of the roadway was not something I wanted to think about; or
do!
The Highlander is an all-terrain-vehicle, but
I still don’t know HOW to turn it into a 4-wheeling machine; I know it has the
capabilities, but I’ve never used that before. If ever there was a road
for the 4-wheel function … I was on it!
Without a clue.
Meta Lake: game changer.
Meta Lake Road Map
Meta Lake was more like a pond than an actual lake.
Not looking forward to the backtracking – it had taken 1½ hours 1-way to reach Meta Lake.
Back at Scorched Zone Viewpoint. I am earning my wings at this point ...
It was a hell ride back to Randle on those minefields called roads - I employed every driving skill Bob ever exampled to get from A to Z safely ...
Patches of roadway totally peeled away to gravel … rolling off the 1,000-ft. edge to the yawning gorge below; gaping potholes large and deep enough to swallow my hefty SUV; zig-zagging fissures spiderwebbing sunken spots where the road had slid out from under the blacktop: the adrenaline was pumping – but not in a good way.
All the way back to civilization, I nipped
into every available turnout (there were only 3: 2 viewpoints & a very
skimpy car width pullover spot) – to park the car, breathe deeply, and
relax so I could go at it again. There was 1 short guardrail the entire length
of the road. I earned every gray hair I scared the color out of Sunday:
this will not be a repeat drive.
But I managed to laugh through it all &
say, “Babe, if you are watching this unfold, you better be proud of me”;
laughter is my pressure relief valve. Talking to Bob’s spirit is my comfort in
tight spots.
My hands were a soaking wet, aching reminder
that I had not died of a heart attack 😉
One thing I kept telling myself was, ‘If I
can get through this road’s hurdles, I KNOW I CAN drive the Mount
Rainier Loop! That thought fortified me: I’ve been missing my beloved
Box Canyon.
When I reached the junction of decision, I
opted to go back home through Randle. I don’t like freeway driving at all (which
I would have had to drive from Cougar), and it would not have been wise –
under any circumstance – to do freeway driving after the hell ride out
of the Gifford Pinchot National Park.
So, I turned left.
I went back to Randle; closer than Cougar, and I never have to touch the freeway via Randle.
And was glad I did, because a little further
up the road, I got a treat :-D
The Iron Creek Falls was a treat for the eyes; it was a little tricky getting to view them, but worth it.
Bob and I always stopped at falls … Bob loved water in general, but the sound of falls was very soothing – even wild and loud ones 😉
I love the sound of vitality a forest gives off.
1st tier of stairs leading to the Falls. The shale is very loose. I was glad I had my walking stick. Thank you, Babe (!) for pointing it out to me at that Bazaar we did :-D
Root laden path into the forest.
2nd tier of stairs leading to the Falls – this is the biggest challenge concerning the loose shale: even with the stairs, the shale is very dangerous – it is easy for your feet to go out from under you here.
Iron Creek Falls.
Iron Creek – I did eventually make it to the creek 😉
I got a cardio workout getting back to the car.
Despite the asthmatic huffing and puffing, I did not need the inhaler ...
I think I may have to have the Highlander's undercarriage checked out; the underside bottomed out on deep potholes twice. It's coming time for a checkup again, so I'll do it then.
Leaving Randle, I saw the hanging cliff – and,
just up the road a couple paces, I saw the little burger bar we used to stop at
once in awhile… so, I nipped in and bought a cheeseburger for old time’s sake –
the sandwich in the cooler could be eaten later 😉
Hanging cliff in Randle; I have seen mountain goats walking on that thing.
Umm, umm: GOOD.
When I finally got home, the sunset was
colorful – a nice ending to an 11-hour adventurous day.
The day was exciting.
It was scary.
It was encouraging.
I feel revived.
I feel bold.
I feel accomplished.
I am beginning to feel like ME again – Sunday afternoon, I earned my solo lobo adventuring wings :-D
**SUNDAY~FUNDAY POSTS (2020) –
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