Wednesday, June 3
Whittaker Creek Campground, west of Eugene, Oregon
Another beautiful day in the neighborhood!
The fact that the “neighborhood” consists of the camp host couple and one other camper adds to the delight of the day. I love an empty campground! Most of this post’s photos are views of Whittaker Creek Campground.
After our morning stroll, I tidy up the Best Little Trailer, enjoy a second cup of coffee, and tend to this blog. The crew and I are outside all day, relaxing at our campsite.
Two book recommendations:
I promised I’d share books that I’ve read and enjoyed.
Maude
15 Months of Winter: My Year in North Dakota
Thursday, June 4
I drive to the Pacific Coast to do laundry. No kidding! The situation is desperate. I load up the Perfect Tow Vehicle with dirty clothes, towels, quilts, comforter, etc., leaving just enough room for Bridget, Reggie, and myself.
Off we go to Florence!
Okay, let me explain some things for you before I go any further.
First off, the drive from Whittaker to Florence on the coast is not what one would call leisurely. The two-lane road has curves like ribbon candy, at least as far as Mapleton.
The Oregon Department of Transportation relies heavily on pull-outs which are wide places in the road. I think there’s an Oregon law that states you’d better get your butt outta’ the way and let people pass if you persist in driving the speed limit. Which I do.
Something like that.
Cars pile up on the PTV’s bumper in A Conga Line Going To Hell as we head to Florence. I pull over, let them go by, and another bunch takes their place, I pull over and let them go by and . . . . You get the picture. Anyway . . . .
I find the laundry on Route 101 in Florence.
It’s a very spiffy laundry. One of those kind you have to buy a card first in order to start the machines. Well, I’m old school and cheap. I prefer the add-a-quarter-as-you-go method of running the dryers. This card method makes it difficult to be thrifty. Laundry that normally would cost $15 at the most, costs $20 and I leave with drying time remaining on the dryers.
Another thing I want to tell you. . . .
Florence isn’t like you might imagine.
When you approach it from the east and get on five-lane Route 101, it doesn’t look like a coastal town. In other words, you can drive to the laundromat past McDonald’s, Taco Bell, a few thrift stores, auto parts, blah, blah, blah without seeing any beach or ocean.
Don’t get me wrong, Florence — “Old Town” — is lovely. The crew and I enjoyed it very much in 2012.
Why do I tell you all this stuff?
Because I hope you’ll understand my behavior. I do the unthinkable. I load up the PTV with the clean laundry and drive myself and the crew right back to the campground!
I want to be in the right frame of mind when we explore the coast. I want to be fresh and excited and EAGER.
We will go to the beach, all in good time . . . .
The Best Little Trailer waits for our return.
(The photo above looks like we’re in an overgrown mess. That’s foreshortening. Our campsite is open and there’s clear “lawn” around the BLT and picnic table.)
It’s good to be home!
Friday, June 5
Bridget, Reggie, and I head up the trail.
The Old Growth Ridge Trail is 2.5 miles. I don’t expect us to walk the complete trail, but we’re energetic and motivated to hike.
Soon we’re brushing our way through vegetation more energetic that we are. Gosh, we’re gonna’ need to swing from the trees to get through this! I almost step on a six-inch long banana slug. “Ewww!” Okay, that’s it.
“Tally-ho, guys! We’re going back.”
Returning to our campsite, I notice there’s an influx of campers.
People who don’t tow a trailer come up with ways to hold their campsites.
There’s the traffic-cone-in-a-chair method.
These folks keep it simple with a sheet of lined paper and a rock placed on the parking pad. Good thing it didn’t rain!
The campsites on both sides of us are occupied.
One is a man with three children, preteen age. Oh, these are the ones I heard yelling when we were on the other side of the campground. It’s evident this is their usual way of speaking.
“Hey, crew! How about we move camp today?”
It’s too beautiful a day to be annoyed by neighbors, and they’ll be here all weekend.
In a flash we’re packed up, hitched up, and venturing deeper into the forest.
Our destination is Clay Creek Campground.
I figure the additional sixteen miles of forest road will keep a lot of folks away . . . . plus it’s always fun to find a new home!
To be continued.
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