Rising to the occasion

There was a light fog in the air as the Halls pulled out of Coos Bay. They continued on eastward, the sun broke out and by the time they had arrived in Winston (!) OR, everything was fresh and clean. Of course, they felt a natural affinity for the place because of its name, but apparently Winston, OR's only claim to fame was a discount wild animal safari. Everywhere they looked, there were references to their favorite big cats.
Moving inland towards the mountains again, they pressed onward. The narrow mountain roads wound ever upwards. Stopping to stretch their legs, the view over Diamond Lake and its imposing attendants, Mt. Thielson and Mt. Bailey, dazzled them. Since there were no storms in sight, it was a cinch they weren't going to experience Mt. Thielson' major attraction- its uncanny ability to draw lightning strikes. There was, however, a brisk breeze kicking up and Mrs. Hall began to realize that despite the warm temps they had enjoyed earlier, it was getting chillier as they went along. Entering the state park, she made note that it was down to 75 degrees already. The high pines gave way to a pumice desert and then to a rock strewn landscape. "Is that snow still piled up there?" said Mrs. Hall, incredulously. "You'll see a lot more than that," warned Mr. Hall. The dashboard thermometer agreed- as the temps fell the snow drifts rose. Suddenly the eight foot snow banks gave way to blue sky and they were at the summit; before them lay Crater Lake in all its pristine glory. The water was still and the reflection of the surrounding walls and the volcanic cone in the center was almost surreal.
"Absolutely breathtaking!" said Mr. Hall, nearly in a whisper. The overlooks were dizzyingly close to the precipice, but Mrs. Hall could not resist edging as close as possible to look down. They headed on up to the lodge at the top of the mountain and ordered lunch. It was clear the site drew visitors from all over the world; the shop and the lodge had a sort of alpine-style architecture and the Halls overheard several different languages being spoken around them. The air was thin; Mr. H. strode over the snow banks in his shirt sleeves, and it was easy to see he was becoming winded easily. Not so, it seemed however, for a group of youngsters, who were amusing themselves by flinging snowballs madly at each other and other unwary tourists.
While it would have been tempting to stay and watch the sun set over the lake, the Halls had miles to go. Bidding goodbye to the mesmerizing beauty of Crater Lake, they slid back into the little rental and careening down the mountain switchbacks, headed on.

The Queen of them all

The road south leveled out and the temperatures started to rise again, and soon, in the distance, a beautiful perfect cone rose out of the horizon. All roads seemed to lead to it, and it seemed as if all previous travelers, ancient and recent, had no choice but to be drawn to it. Second only to Mt. Rainier in height, Mt. Shasta beckoned them on.
Stopping at the scenic overlook, the Halls were able to view Mt. Shasta, as well as three other lesser volcanos visible around the horizon. "While the US Geological Survey considers this a dormant volcano, there is every reason to believe it will erupt again, in oh, say the next few hundred years," informed Mr. Hall handily. Mrs. H. glanced at the thermometer on the dashboard and wiped her brow. "Well, while it would be fun to stick around and watch for that, I'm afraid I have to admit I'm hungry and not a little bit thirsty, too. Looks like we'll have to toddle on." sighed Mrs. Hall. Mr. Hall agreed entirely.
Their heads may have been full of glorious visions, but their tummies (and the gas tank, too) were running on "E", so they coasted into Red Bluff, CA and dropped their bags at the hotel.
"I know just what I feel like for dinner tonight," said Mr. Hall, but Mrs. H. was way ahead of him and had already ordered the drinks.
Next episode: Leave it to family to know the best spots to eat. Stay tuned!

All Spruced up

"Hurry up! McMinnville awaits!" Mrs. Hall's eyes were barely open and her aching muscles reminded her of yesterday's adventures at the falls. Giddy as a little kid, Mr. Hall taxied the rental under the hotel canopy just as Mrs. H. came down with the bags. The little car had but a scant 2000 miles on it when the Halls picked it up in Seattle, but it was going to put a lot more behind it by the time they turned it in.
About an hour from where they had been staying was Evergreen Aviation Museum. Rising out of the low vineyards and farms in the flatlands between two mountain ranges, the tree-shaped buildings with their dark green colored glass were a stark modern element on the horizon. The museum held many fine examples of WWII fighter planes and modern helicopters, but the big draw- the main reason Mr. Hall had been chomping on the bit to come- was the addition of Howard Hughes' H-4 Hercules "Spruce Goose" to the collection. Though having flown only one short trial run for just over a mile, the Goose made aviation history. It dominated the space and dwarfed the planes around it, and its bow came right up to the window of the barn.
The second building held their air and space museum, though it was primarily concerned with Cold War competition over the Space Program. There was a replica of a Titan missile silo, but after the Halls had already visited the real thing two years ago, it was a poor substitute. Of course, they had to hang around Mrs. Hall's favorite, the SR-71 Blackbird ("This is the fifth example of a Blackbird I've personally visited!" Mrs. H. gushed.) Behind the barns were several static displays, of more warbirds and lots of old tanks. There was a RC model landing strip and a couple of model enthusiasts showing off their aerobatic skills. And there was a third building off to the south that was apparently a water park; it was topped with a freshly painted Boeing 747 sporting a number of water slide tubes coming out of its sides. "What a waste of a perfectly good airplane!" griped Mr. Hall. He was all right with dangling out of service jets and planes in all sorts of poses from museum ceilings, but he had to draw the line somewhere, and using the jumbo jet as a water play park was definitely over that line.
Grabbing a quick bite in the lunch room, they continued their drive to the west and eventually ended up on the Oregon Coast Highway Route 101. Rugged and foreboding, the waves dashed up on the shores and the wind blew the little car around on the road. Mrs. Hall foraged about in her bags when they stopped to look over a precipice, and found her sweater. As she stood snapping pictures left and right, Mr. Hall contented himself with contemplating their next navigation and annoying the local sea fowl. They followed the coastline for hours and finally arrived in the historical old port town of North Bend/Coos Bay.
"Look! They've got a sushi diner!" cried Mrs. Hall, who was feeling a little peckish after the drive. "With shrimp tempura and saki!" "Look- they've got a casino!" cried Mr. Hall. "and quarter slots and five dollar roulette tables!" Having clearly found the perfect diversions to fit their interests, the Halls decided to bed down right there. From the patio of the casino, they watched the fireworks over the bay, cashed in their winnings and hit the hay. Next episode: Snowballs in summertime. Stay tuned!

Hot and Cold running spectacles

Erick finished packing his bag and opened the back door. "Let's get going!" The Halls all piled into the little rental and waving goodbye to Seattle, fresh fish and Mt. Rainer, they headed for the highway. "Let's take this street first, before we get on the highway. We can get a cup of coffee and I want to show you one more Seattle treat." They pulled off into a charming artsy community and there, hiding in the shadows under the bridge, was The Troll. Fashioned by the hands of local artists and incorporating an actual Volkswagon Beetle, it was the Fremont community's answer to an unsightly underpass. "Well, if the java didn't get me up, that thing certainly would have!" remarked Mr. Hall. "We just couldn't leave without seeing that," laughed Mrs. Hall and they thanked Erick for the show.
Erick was on his way to Portland, so he rode part of the way with the Halls. Passing out of the city and down the coast, they drove past Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Baker. Majestic volcanoes might be just everyday stuff to the citizens of the coast, but Mrs. Hall fairly twisted herself in knots trying to snap shots as the highway wove past the snow covered peaks. The highway took them south of Portland and eastward to the Columbia gorge.
Speaking to the locals, they were informed of a beautiful tour of the waterfalls coming down from the Cascades, and the prospect of seeing so many in such a short span proved irresistible to the Halls. It was but the work of a short detour and soon they were standing at the precipice at Vista House, at the mouth of the Columbia River. It was a glorious day, and so when the little volunteer at the desk offered them a handdrawn map of the lower falls, they thought it might be a nice diversion along the way to stop and see them. "But before we go, I just have to have some of these," said Mrs. Hall, and she plucked a bag of interesting looking pretzels off the shelf of the gift house. As the day wore on, they proved to be a godsend.
Though they had initially viewed the tour as a lark, it became immediately clear it was going to be a somewhat more physical feat. "Does it say anywhere in that little map you found that the falls require increasing vigor as you go along? These walkways are becoming higher and steeper as we go," inquired Mrs. Hall. Puffing and blowing, they wound their ways up and down the stone paths, each one ending in an increasingly spectacular falls. By the time they arrived at Multnomah Falls, they were exhausted and exhilarated, all at the same time. Skipping about in the water at the bottom of one of the lesser falls, Mr. Hall reminded Mrs. Hall that while it was fun to be without cares, they did have a schedule to maintain. They trudged back to the little rental, dusty and worn, and headed back on southward. The glowing peak of Mt. Hood could just be seen in the distance as they bounced along the highway to their next hotel.



(Ed. note: For the Gentle Reader's edification: here is a graphic depicting the volcanoes of the Pacific Coast, many of which the Halls passed by.

Planes, trains and automobiles

Seattle is often known for it's inclement or deary weather, but whomever was in charge of fog this week must have been on vacation as well, because the Halls could not have ordered a more perfect backdrop for their activities.
Rising bright and early, Erick drove them past the great ports downtown to the Museum of Flight. Celebrating the early careers of prominent aviators and pioneers in the business of flying, the Wm. Boeing Museum of Flight offered not only many hands-on exhibits and videos, but a chance to visit and explore static displays of some of the Halls' favorite rides. Walking through the pedestrian bridge to the aluminum playground, Mr. Hall could barely be contained. Mrs. H. had never seen a Concorde up close and was surprised at how small it really was. A stunning example of a Constitution (or a "Connie" as it was known) was there, but unfortunately, not available to tour. While Mrs. Hall was just about to tell Mr. H. that that was okay; she had toured one last summer at Chanute Air Force Base, she turned to discover he was not behind her. On the verge of worry, Erick pointed to a boarding ladder behind the SST. There was Mr. Hall, standing on the landing, waving and looking as presidential as ever.
It was getting late and the little band headed downtown to see if they could arrange to get the rental a day early. The crowds were coming in for the holiday, but overall the city looked bright and festive. "There goes the monorail!" said Mr. Hall and at that point Mrs. Hall knew exactly what was going to happen next. As she tossed out any hopes for shopping, Mr. Hall was already heading up the stairs to purchase tickets to ride the train.
The monorail, another relic from the 1962 World's Fair in Seattle, had a short track. Running only from the downtown shopping district to the Space Needle/City Center and back again, it's usefulness as a mode of mass transit was suspect. But it's coolness factor was never a matter in doubt- it was very awesome indeed to fly around at over 40 mph smoothly along a single track. The Halls had purchased a round trip ticket, so when the crowd filed out and left the train empty for the return trip, Mr. Hall slid up to the front and struck up company with the engineer. After all but piloting the train back successfully to downtown, he floated back into the city a very happy camper indeed.
The rental situation being taken care of, they were heading home when Erick wondered if perhaps they would like to take in a ballgame. As a National League fan, Mrs. Hall was only modestly acquainted with the Mariners, but when he told her they were playing the San Diego Padres, and had already beaten them the previous night, she was all in. As a diehard Cubs fan, she knew, that if there was even the remotest chance to boo or razz the Padres- she was going to be there.
Alas, a victory was not to be. After a boring pitcher's duel, the Mariners dropped the ball, so to speak, and gave up the game; 1-0. On top of that, the only run that came in was due to an error on the part of the umpires; unbelievably, they sent a runner to first base on what they thought was the called fourth ball, but was, upon video replay, determined to be just the third ball. No one on the field caught it and the game progressed to its unfortunate end.
Returning to Erick's neighborhood, they slid into the home pub to drown their sorrows and share a cup before heading off to rest. Next episode: Portland, the Cascades and beyond. Stay tuned!