The Last Ride of Heinz and Furball

It had to end sooner or later. We packed up the car the morning of July 21 and put Salem, Oregon behind us. We made one stop in Portland to see Powell's Books, the largest new and used book store in the world. It takes up a whole city block with 5 floors of geeky goodness, an egghead's paradise. The building is so large, it generates its own weather systems. OK, maybe it's not that large, but it's pretty large. We bought a pile of books (tax free!) and made a run for the border.

Not long after leaving Powell's, we crossed the state line into Washington, and Oregon was Ore-gone, gone, gone. Just a few hours later, we were pulling up to Furball's home in Seattle. And that's it! *sniff*

What a great trip!

We can both say without hesitation that the best part of the trip was the afternoon we spent playing in the Yuba River in California with our friend, Sue. Cuts, bruises, and sunburns aside, it was the perfect way to spend an afternoon. Of course, the National Parks were pretty cool, too. ;-)

The front of Heinz's little hybrid is currently an entomologist's dream (nightmare?), with bugs from 7 Western states splattered all over it.


This blog was a bit of an experiment, but we found it added an element of connectedness with our friends and family. Thanks to everyone for reading along and commenting! It made our trip even more enjoyable. We're glad you came along for the ride.

Happy trails,
Heinz and Furball

Crater Lake (or, Craters of the Laaaaaake!!!)

It wasn't easy, but somehow we managed to leave behind Oakland, CA and the hospitality and home cooking of Furball's parents. (Thanks for everything, David and Margaret!) The final destination on TGWCRT '05 was Crater Lake National Park in Oregon, so we headed North. We made it to Shady Cove, OR without drama. (That is, without road construction, flaming RVs or criminally stupid truckers.)

We checked into the Edgewater Inn. This is a beautiful spot, overlooking the Rogue River. This was the view off our balcony:



Not bad, eh? You can see some kayakers lazing down the river. The town of Shady Cove is lousy with kayak and raft rentals, and we almost changed our plans to include a rafting trip. Across the way, you can see the Mexican restaurant where we later had dinner.

The next morning, we drove into the park. This didn't go as smothly as we had expected ... literally. The road wasn't even there in places. Since they have so many freeze/thaw cycles in Crater Lake, the road is a constant work-in-progress. While waiting for our turn at one construction site, we had a chat with the in-the-know flagger guy, who gave us some good site-seeing tips (see Watson Falls, below).

Crater Lake was certainly worth the trouble, though. When we got there, this view was waiting for us:



Crater Lake is the purest lake in the world, and the deepest in the United States. It's actually the caldera of a volcano, and the water is rain and snow-melt that has collected over thousands of years. The island in the middle is called Wizard Island, and it is the cinder cone of a new volcano which formed in the collapsed caldera of the old volcano. (The same thing is happening today in Mt. St. Helens, by the way.)

There is a boat tour on Crater Lake which drops you off on Wizard Island. Unfortunately, we didn't get there early enough to reserve a spot. Bah! We hiked down to the dock anyway and enjoyed the views. It's hard to explain just how beautiful the water of the lake is. It's a strange iridescent blue.



The water is also very, very cold. The surface of the lake maybe hits 50 degress in the summer. After a few minutes with our feet in the water, we couldn't feel our toes. Nevertheless, a father and his two sons stripped down and jumped in while we watched. In the words of the father, "This is stupid." Not to be outdone, we stripped down and jumped in, too. Heinz jumped right back out (and nearly jumped out of his skin, too), but Furball paddled around nonchalantly for a bit. Everybody was duly impressed.



The hike back to the crater rim was enough to dry us out and warm us back up. After a brief stop at the Rim Village, we left Crater Lake and headed North.

On the advice of the well-informed construction worker we met earlier in the day, we made a side trip to Watson Falls, Oregon. It's a short hike to a tall waterfall just off Highway 138. This corner of the world seems to have a little wonder tucked in every nook and cranny. We approve.



We rested our bones in Salem, Oregon, preparing ourselves for he last day of our trip.

Oafland, Reprise

Today, Furball showed Heinz around her old college digs: U. C. Berkeley. On the way, we stopped at the Golden Gate Bridge, which was big, orange and mostly hidden in fog.

We stopped in Marin County to partake in the fine cuisine of In-n-Out Burger. Then we were off to Berkeley for a quick walking tour of the campus, led by Furball. Alas, we could not find the parking lot reserved for Nobel laureates, but Furball insists it exists. At Heinz's insistence, we stopped at a local coffee shop (Cafe Strada) and took in the collegiate atmosphere along with the requisite caffeine fix. Furball had water.

We ventured up Strawberry Canyon for a panoramic view of the entire Bay Area, which would have been breathtaking had it not been for the fog.

Furball took Heinz down Telegraph Ave. and into Cody's Books. True to form, Heinz declared his intentions not to buy any books, which he failed at miserably. He even bought a T-shirt. Oh, the shame.

On returning home to Oafland, we had a wonderful meal prepared by Furball's mom, and dessert prepared by the wonderful cows of Dreyer's. Moo. Any relation to the wild desert cows of Nevada? The mind boggles.

Oafland

Today, we sat around Oakland like Big Fat Oafs and picked our noses. (Pick, pick, pick.)

In the evening, Heinz ventured into big, bad San "Don't-Call-Me-Frisco" Francisco to visit Mark, an old college housemate of his. The conversation covered weighty topics such as the meaning of a life spent working for the Man, the shrinking social opportunities of the 30-something single male in Urban America, and which season of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" was the best. (Apparently, it was the fifth. I think. It's all a blur, really.)

While Heinz and Mark discussed Buffy and the Meaning of Life in The City, Furball and the parental units wandered down College Ave. and filled their pie-holes with tasty California cuisine. Yum!

And then nothing much happened.

(Gr)ass Valley

From Yosemite, Heinz and Furball headed north to Grass Valley, CA (affectionately known as Ass Valley by the locals). Sue, a friend of Heinz's, lives there. On the way out of Yosemite on Highway 120, we were stopped when an RV caught on fire. We waited until the local fire department put the fire out and rescued the poor old couple driving it. It turned out to be only the first of many obstacles that day.

Navigating by road map is only a slightly more reliable means of getting yourself around then a divining rod or a ouija board. From the map, it looked like highway 49 would get us there with a minimum of fuss. We were mistaken. It's a narrow, windy road of frustration. We got stuck behind an 18-wheeler going 20 mph, taking up the oncoming lane at every turn (much to the dismay of the oncoming traffic). And staying on 49 was no mean feat, since it makes random detours here and there, not all of which are marked. (!!!)

At Auburn, CA, 49 picks up a few extra lanes and we thought we were home free. Wrong. We got stuck in road construction and had to sit there until the road crew saw fit to let us pass.

We (finally!) reached Grass Valley around 9 pm, where Sue was patiently waiting for us. She took us to an AMAZING restaurant, which seated us in spite of the fact that we were totally grunged out from a half-day of hiking at Yosemite and a half-day of raving lunacy behind the criminally stupid trucker. The food was delicious. Afterwards, Sue let us crash at her place for the night. Hurray!

The next morning, we got muffins at a local cafe that had live banjo music. (At 10 am on Saturday?! Okay.) Sue took us out to the Yuba River to play in the water. It was close to 100 degrees, and the water felt goooood. There were rocks and whitewater and little waterfalls and lots of friendly people playing and having fun. Basically, it was like a water park, only better. Heinz fell over a waterfall, but his enthusiasm was undiminished. It was easily the best day of the trip so far. Thanks Sue!


We said goodbye to Sue, put Grass Valley in our rear view, and headed for Oakland to stay with Furball's parents for a spell. The trip there was uneventful. Thank god.

Yo-ze-might

We left June Lake and headed into Yosemite National Park on highway 120. There we learned that the natural wonders of Yosemite were not, in fact, formed by the process of erosion; rather, it was formed when two bear cubs fell asleep on a rock which grew really big. The geologists were flabbergasted.

There are really no jokes to be made about Yosemite -- it's spectacular. (Actually, we can make jokes about the German men hiking in capri pants and black socks, with American flag bandanas tied festively 'round their necks, but we won't.) Among the many wonders we saw in Yosemite are Bridalveil Falls, Yosemite Falls (Lower and Upper), El Capitan and Half-Dome.


El Capitan is the largest single piece of granite in the world, and it attracts climbers like flies. See if you can spot the climber in this picture. (Hint: look for the tiny speck of red.)


We signed up for a rafting trip down the Merced River, which (Native American folklore aside) is the real force behind all the natural beauty of Yosemite. We drifted lazily down the river, surrounded on all sides by majestic, glacially carved granite peaks and waterfalls, thinking that it couldn't get any better.

That night, we stayed in Curry Village, a camp of permanent tents with wooden floors and two cots. Very cozy. We got up early-ish and took a guided tour of the valley floor, repeatedly getting our minds blown by the scenery until our brains oozed out our ears. One last hike up to Yosemite Falls and a walk through Cook's Meadow where we were nearly carried away by a swarm of mosquitos. And then we bid Yosemite a fond farewell.

Vegas, Baby!

We were only in Vegas for one night. We washed off the Zion dust, prettied ourselves up as much as possible and went down to the casino. There, we took it all in. (Mostly, we just took in second-hand smoke, but hey.) We lost a few quarters in the slots, had a couple of pina coladas, and then hit the wall, exhausted from the heat and the drive.

The next morning, we got directions to an IHOP in the Golden Palm casino. If you've never heard of the Golden Palm, there's a reason. It's the diciest casino EVAR. There used to be an IHOP there, but now it's the GP Cafe. We surmise that an IHOP rep stopped there once and was so horrified that they lost their franchise.

The plan for the day was to head North from Vegas and cut through Death Valley into California. We got as far as Beatty, NV.


On Furball's suggestion, we stopped at the Death Valley Information Center. The woman working there had excellent information for us: avoid Death Valley. Apparantly, it was 124 degrees in the desert that day. In retrospect, it's obvious that driving through the hottest part of the country, in the hottest part of the year, during the hottest part of the day, and in a heat wave, is a bad idea. Many thanks to the nice park lady who brought us to our senses. We decided to drive around.

Before leaving Beatty, we consoled ourselves by stopping at the Death Valley Nut & Candy Company, which is the largest candy shop on the West Coast. Mmm ... refined sugar.


On the way out of town, we saw a wild desert cow. These exotic beasts roam the high mountain deserts devouring everything in their path, leaving a trail of destruction. We were lucky to escape with our lives. Moo.


We drove to Lee Vining, California, the gateway to Yosemite National Park. Every hotel, motel and cardboard box there was taken, so we had to stay at June Lake. There we found Tiger Cafe, the local watering hole: highly recommended.