Now it's YOUR turn...

Watch. Listen. Learn. And you too can make an awe-inspiring old-growth sand forest like this one:

Like I suggested in the prior post, it's probably best to just follow directions. :)

Proving Nature's Loyalty

I have no idea. I just work here.

She says prove, I prove.

(Reference: Loyalty proven at Ona Beach State Park, Oregon)

By the sea, By the sea, By the beautiful sea

[Tonight's blog provided entirely by Phoebe]

Well, at first, I got up, and I did all that usual stuff. Then I played a whole solitaire game and I won! Then I watched Little House on the Prairie again! It's a good show, I'm very fond of it.
Then we went down to eat breakfast at the hotel.

And we started driving. We heard that there was a sea nearby, so we kept driving. But first, we had to go to the cheese factory! I've mentioned it before--Tillamook cheese! It's a a really famous kind of cheese.


I tasted it. It was very yummy. And there was a kind called garlic cheese. It tasted like garlic bread. And I also tasted cheese curds, which are the cheese before it turns into cheese. Those were my favorite. And we got milk chocolate fudge and caramel fudge. The milk chocolate was for me! I got a surprise bag also. I didn't know what it was going to be until I got in the car.

Then we drove on further. And we stopped by the sea area, by a looking-off point.


Then we drove for a couple more hours, which felt like ten minutes. And we got to the place we wanted to go. It's called Newport, Oregon. And it was really hard to find a hotel. Finally, we found one. It was very nice. And I went down to the beach.

I dug a big hole. It had lots of water in it 'cause it was near the water.


I stepped in a shallow part of the ocean. It was up almost to my ankles. It was freezing! I said "Too cold!" and ran away. Then I came back and stomped in the water. It was VERY windy. I felt the wind blowing in my face-I got sand in my eyes. I tried not to get more in, but I did. The waves weren't so big, but they were beautiful, at least. Mommy will take a movie of the waves tomorrow morning. And there it will be.

Then we went back up to our room. I washed all of the sand off of me and we tried to walk to dinner. We couldn't find it walking, so we took the car. We finally found it, it was only like a couple of blocks away. Then we ate there, and it was yummy. I got clam chowder soup with crackers. They got this BIG bucket of crackers. It was yellow, the bucket, and there were little packages of two crackers each that you could crack.

And we went out and took a little walk around town. There were candy stores all over, but I was going to have some of my fudge that I got at the cheese factory. Then we heard seagulls and we were listening to them, and then we heard sea lions! Everyone was watching them, so we went to watch them also. Finally, we saw them. They were all big. We saw one diving in. Mommy took a movie of one of them and here it is:



And also, we saw people crabbing. I got to pick one up and throw it overboard! Mommy has a picture of it, and here it is!


There was a lot going on today, wasn't there. Well, we got back in the car and we drove back to the hotel. And did I tell you everything? Oh! No, I didn't! I forgot the parts where we went to the bathroom and breathed and did a little bit of yawning. Only one part missed out. I got the hiccups.

Hope you get back to us soon.

Phoebe

The Greater End of the Trail Report

Our second day!

I woke up and I was really tired. I finally woke myself up by watching TV. Betsye, get a load of this…I watched Little House on the Prairie about Laura Ingalls Wilder’s life! It was very interesting.

Then I got ready to go out to the museum and we had lots of fun there. We watched a movie that was true of the pioneers. We went there for a couple of hours. For a lot of time I was trying to get a ring off of a puzzle toy that children played with a long time ago. There was lots of other games.

Robin here....Phoebe wanted me to tell this part about another toy. There was a toy that the pioneer kids played with which was a disk on a string that they would wind and turn it into a kind of whizzing horizontal yo-yo....Phoebe wanted me to mention this because it is the same toy that I played with when I was a child (my mom made, and continues to make, it out of a large button and some string) and which Phoebe plays with when we are visiting California!

And you got to pack your own wagon. And then we both tried on some pioneer clothes!



Then we went into the gift shop. And we didn’t find much there. But yesterday, we did find a postcard for Betsye. Then, we went out and drove the car into town and we got little miniature toys ("Mommy...explain what they are!") and we got some of the things that you would pack in a wagon for the journey west.

[Mommy explaining: There was a dollhouse miniature store in town, and they had many specialty items that were like covered wagon supplies--that's what we got]

We went back to the hotel to have a great time swimming. We did have a great time swimming! I jumped in from 6 feet, two times and then we went back and I did a dolphin dive and touched the bottom at three feet! Butt up, arms down—that’s the trick to do a dolphin dive! We got out of the pool and we took a shower.

Then we went out to a Mexican restaurant where they were playing music live. Betsy Martinez, if you’re reading this, the music was all in Spanish! And he said “Gracias” at the end.

Then we went back to the hotel, and now I’m settling down writing this and I’m up to the third task in Harry Potter.

Hope you get back to us soon.

Phoebe

The Lesser End of the Trail Report

""Don't live and die in sight of your father's house,
but take a trip to Oregon!" - T.D. Wood, 1844

We are here. We are here, at the End of the Trail. Oregon City. It is still quite a beautiful city, situated on the banks of the Willamette (will-AM-et) river. The musem here, which is aptly named the "End of the Trail Interpretive Center" is, amazingly, situated on a piece of land called Abernethy Green, the very spot where emigrants arrived in their wagons from the Barlow Road or by raft from Fort Vancouver, and where many camped for their first winter (they often arrived in fall, so waited until spring to claim their land. The museum itself is shaped like a gigantic covered wagon, though the fabric covers that once graced the metal arches are no longer there (much like the actual wagons, I suppose). It's still completely identifiable, though.



Arriving at the site, visitors are struck by the ways in which they have added detail. The steps going up to the entrance are engraved with the names, in order, of the major stops along the Oregon Trail. You might recognize some of the names from our travel together (not the best quality, turn up your speakers, it's faint, but the sentiment is there)..



Inside, there was a movie called "Bound for Oregon", which focuses on actual stories of several emigrants' journeys, and highlights the life and perspective of John McLoughlin, considered "the father of Oregon". There are also exhibits on everything from pioneer era photography to games that they played on the trail to the process of land claims to individual stories of remarkable people. And nearly every exhibit has an interactive component. We played checkers, we made silouettes (many people could not afford photographers, silouettes were less expensive), we imagined using the pages of an old catalog as toilet paper (ow!). We tried on pioneer clothes, we played with 1800's children's games and puzzles, and we filed our claim for our 640 acres.


Of course, we are darned near Oregon Trail Museum-ed out at this point, so we did not stay as long as we might have had we not seen many of these things before. It was good fun, though, and inspiring to be on this particular spot of land. The weather was also striking, as it is cool here, "just right", so unlike the 105 degrees of the prairie. It must have been such a relief--we even feel it, and we had air conditioning!!

We have also been struck in this area by how kind most people seem to be. Many people have struck up terrific conversations with either or both of us. A waitress in one restaurant pointed out that the Oregon Trail story is very important to people in this area because, as she said, "that's how we got here!", and in another town, we met a 70-something year old woman who told us that her mother's family came to that town in 1852, and their family is still there. In Oregon, all kids study the Oregon Trail in depth when they are in 4th grade, so many local people were surprised that Phoebe knew about it, but they were also pleased. We made "friends" everywhere we went the last few days, from the fabric store, where we bought some fabric to make Phoebe a pioneer dress and bonnet at home (she REALLY wants one, and it seemed special to buy the fabric in Oregon City) to the ice cream store.

Tonight, out of the blue, Phoebe asked me if I was happier being on these trips, or if I was happier being at home. I did not answer right away--I knew that there might be a catch in there somewhere. I said I thought I was probably a bit happier being on these trips (I have wanderlust, I'm sure of it now). She said she was too. Now, neither of us might be entirely right or sure about that, at least not all of the time, but it made us both very happy in the moment to acknowledge how much fun we are and have been having. We settled on "traveling is good, home is good". Fair enough.

So the obvious question remains...now that we're at the end of the Oregon Trail, what happens to the blog? Well, there are a few answers. The first is that we have to acknowledge, with much sadness, that it is almost over. The second is that we still have a few surprises to share with you, some of which may take us a couple of days to get together, so our Oregon Trail reporting is not over quite yet. And the third is that our travel, while not Oregon Trail related (although some people did move on from Oregon City...) is continuing for several more days, as we wind our way down to the San Francisco area to hang out with my mom for five or six days. We can report on those journeys and adventures, or we can leave it neatly here, all tied up in its Oregon Trail completeness (as soon as we add those few more things). We haven't quite decided yet, though Phoebe wants to continue to write....so we'll see.

The one thing we can say for sure is that there is a big trip like this on the tentative agenda for next summer and hopefully, for many summers to come. I'm not sure that the computer thing will work out in all potential locales, but where and when it does, we will be back on your radar...er, computer...screen. Same time, same channel, different place (any and all suggestions welcome--adventure is key--we don't finalize our plans until May sometime). So stay tuned, keep in touch, and DON'T STOP READING YET!!

Some days

Some days, you get lost in the woods. And some days, you can't find the ice cream store.
Some days, you drive for what seems like 300 miles, even if it's only 100. Some days, you drive for what seems like 100 miles, even if it's only 25.

We're back in the city. Can you tell?

We spent the whole morning at Fort Vancouver, the last in a long series of forts that we have visited on this trip. The ranger there reminded us of something important. Although the word "fort" conjures military images, not all of the forts had any military involvement. They each had their purpose, with most simply being places of protection, in some cases from Indians (real or perceived danger), in some cases from theft of goods for trading, in some cases to serve as welcoming spots (with financial benefit to the proprietor, of course) for the weary emigrants. Fort Vancouver was actually a home base for the Hudson Bay Trading Company, the largest trader of furs (beaver, mostly) between the northwest and England.


The high walls there were to keep people out, mostly because of the extremely high value of the goods stored inside the fort. It was essentially a place of business. The towers in the corners were for protection--they do have cannons--but they were never used for protection. They were up high for the view, and the cannons were fired as a welcome when a ship from England arrived in the nearby port.

We learned a lot of interesting little facts about the fur trade here. We learned that the Hudson Bay Company, in order to have a monopoly, sent out huge numbers of trappers, and effectively eliminated the beaver population in the northwest. We learned that the beaver pelts were used for many things, but most notably the undercoat was used for very fine and expensive top hats in Britain. We learned that nearly every trapper had a Native American wife. We learned that there was a large village immediately adjacent to the fort, where the employees lived, and that a significant portion of the employees were Hawaiian (!!!). And perhaps most interestingly, we learned a LOT about blacksmithing from a real blacksmith who was demonstrating period methods. It was Phoebe's favorite part of the fort--she got to hold and examine a hand-made axe blade and she got to set off a handmade beaver trap (with a wooden stick). Shows you the power of real experience--after the snap, it was the first time that she said "Wow, that must have HURT".

We also spent some time in the clerk's office, where they kept all of the records of the Hudson Bay Co. They had a great setup for kids in there, where they had child-sized clerk jackets and activities to see what it was like to keep the books in those days for such a big operation. The only downside was that, while we were in there, we inadvertently interrupted the work of a busy clerk, who was more than a bit indignant.

We made our apologies and made a hasty departure, as you can well imagine.

And then....and THEN....we made our way down the congested road to....OREGON CITY! We got here pretty late, so we just took a look around, and promised to come back and "do the town", the museum, and the sights tomorrow. So we'll leave those exciting details until tomorrow's entry.

We're here. We made it. And, as Phoebe says, "Nobody died!". Yay!

More tomorrow from the promised land....

Slight, but critical change

Just read what I wrote about the Barlow Road to Phoebe. She has inserted a VERY important addition that I so carelessly left out.

So please, for the sake of accuracy, take a look at the post-Barlow Road celebratory paragraph, the one that starts "We cheered, we cried..."

Thanks: :)

It was the best of times...

[Warning to the reader: Get a cup of coffee. This is a long one]

Oh. My. God.
What a day.
I barely know where to begin.

But before we start: you know how I pooh-poohed that notion that we regularly "pack it in" or that our days somehow demonstrate superhuman energy? Well, after this day, let's just say that my hat is delicious, if chewy.

Truly weird morning spent over breakfast at Cousin's Restaurant & Saloon in The Dalles, Oregon, where we heard they had some faboo cinnamon rolls. There was a live radio show being taped at the table next to us, and then a commotion as there were apparently 4 members of a rock band eating two tables over, their gargantuan red tour bus outside. I am SO old. The kids were lined up for autographs, and there was quite a buzz. I had no idea who they were, but I told Phoebe they were musicians. She wanted to know how I knew. You woulda had to see 'em. It was a hard thing to explain (or rather, another hard thing to explain). I settled on "no one but rock musicians look like that". She looked confused and said I didn't make any sense. Hey, it was the best I could do. (the band was Poison, by the way...am I hopelessly out of touch?). They are good cinnamon rolls, by the way--we took one "to go" and ate it later. Oh...and Susan, I'm quite sure this is what you had in mind when you encouraged us to get people to take our photo together...right?


We wanted to take in some local sites before we left town (we're on the Oregon Trail, remember?). So we visited Pulpit Rock, a huge rock where preachers would perch in the mid-1800's to deliver their sermons. We each climbed it with great authority, because, as you know, we have Important Things To Say (and don't you know it).

We stopped at the city park, where the claim to fame is this stone marker, which proclaims "The End of the Oregon Trail", a claim that rightly belongs (in one sense) to this place.

You see, up until 1846, the overland portion of the Oregon Trail did indeed end in The Dalles. From that point on, emigrants had to dissassemble their wagons, build or hire a raft (to hire one cost $100--in 1843..can you imagine??) and float (if you could call it that) and portage the rest of the way down the Columbia River to Oregon City, like this exhausted but intrepid pioneer family:


The trip down the Columbia was extremely hazardous--many drowned--but it was the only option. After 1846, there was a road (if you could call it that) that was an alternative, but more about that later.

[I know. You're done with the day already and ready for a nap. Wake up! It's only noon!!]

We moved on to the Columbia Gorge Discovery Center, to learn more about the river, Lewis & Clark in this region....WAIT! THERE'S MERIWETHER LEWIS NOW, ACCOMPANIED BY THEIR GUIDE, SACAJAWEA!



It was a wonderful museum, with a large children's activity area (YAY!) with crafts and a wide range of other activities, from collecting fossils to balancing the freight on a river barge without the ship tipping.

And, then, dear friends, we moved onward. Bravely onward. Foolishly onward. We couldn't float down the river, so we figured we'd better take the aforementioned road, which is called The Barlow Road (after the guy who built it and operated it as a toll road). As our guidebook suggested, we picked up a Forest Service map and a guide to the Barlow Road and took off. It is the Long Way Around, but it doesn't involve drowning or dying, so that's good. The road essentially goes around the base of Mount Hood, through what is now National Forest land. For most of the drive, it's breathtakingly beautiful. But....

Well, you know we have this thing about authenticity (to the best of our ability, right, VR?). From the start, we wanted to feel the experience, imagine the experience, walk in the emigrants' footsteps whenever possible. It's what led us to our moving experience at California Hill in Nebraska--remember? Well, today it meant following the advice of our guidebook and another brochure, and going offroad to try to drive a portion of the actual Barlow Road, rather than the approximate path provided by legitimate roadways. So when we saw a sign, we turned off. It was hairy. We tried to imagine what it would have been like in a covered wagon, which wasn't that hard in this case, as we were bumpily driving over roots and stumps, straddling deep ditches, and trying to stay on the upside of DEEP ruts. Now this route goes through the woods of the Mount Hood National Forest. Deep through the woods, winding, curving, taking multiple paths at many points. As we all know [courtesy of Ronald Reagan--I know you've been wondering when I'd work him in], "when you've seen one tree you've seen them all", so we bumped and twisted and we turned and we jostled and turned and we twisted and we made our way deep into the land where all trees look...ahem....alike.

(Note to Family Members: This is the time to skip ahead)

Okay. We got lost. Really lost. Completely lost. In the middle of the woods. Me cursing myself for not leaving breadcrumbs...er...keeping notes about the path we had been taking. Maybe even glancing at the forest service map or the car's compass would have been a good idea (there's a point). It's not like I'm a neophyte--I'm a backpacker and backcountry XC skier from way back, I know all about this stuff. But no. We are confident. We are intrepid. We are stupid.

But just so you'll be proud, a few helpful facts:

We both hyperventilated as required.
We both panicked (a wee bit) as required.
We both got a little teary and pretended that we weren't, so that the other one wouldn't see.
I can't speak for Phoebe's imagination, but I briefly had all the appropriate lost-in-the-woods thoughts (insert the ones you imagine here, you're probably right)
I breathed deeply and said "We're going to figure this out". Phoebe said "Okay" (unconvincing, but sweet)

And then we found our way out. It weren't easy.

We cheered, we cried, we threw our fists into the air and shouted "ADVENTURE GIRLS!!!" many times loudly. And we had a cookie. And we didn't tell any of you, including our nearest and dearest, until right at this very moment. SURPRISE!!! (confetti, streamers, horns)

So we got back on the road. The real road. We ignored all the rest of the signs that invited us to rejoin the Barlow Road. Been there, done that, ready to brag about it, would do it smarter next time.

And then, without having a good sense of where we were, we turned a bend in the road, and up ahead of us, this is what we saw:


Mt. Hood. We both felt blessed. It was so beautiful. We stopped, we gawked, we said "Wow", we forgot about being lost. We stopped again 100 yards later, and then again, always with awe. We both cursed me (especially Phoebe) for forgoing our camping equipment for this trip (long story, I'll spare you), as we both SO wanted to plunk down and stay right there.

We continued, closer and closer to Mount Hood, including a side trip to Timberline Lodge, right at treeline (thus the name, get it?) on the slope of the mountain (complete with chairlift and summer skiing!). Oh, I want to come back here.

We made another stop, deep in the woods (on the road this time) at the Pioneer Woman's Grave, an incredibly moving grave of an unknown woman who died just short of her Oregon Trail goal. It obviously holds deep meaning for a lot of people, as over the years, travelers have continued to pile up stones and leave flowers and memorials at this site. There is also a stone marker and inscription here, it's just not in the photo.

And we still weren't at our destination. I KNOW!

Sadly, reluctantly, we left the woods. We descended from the base of Mount Hood, we drove through the foothills, and we entered what was, in the 1850's, celebrated as "civilization", but which can now only be termed "urban sprawl". It was a rough transition, rougher than most, after a day that brought both the greatest challenge and arguably the most breathtaking beauty of the entire trip.

Tonight, we write to you from Vancouver, Washington, home of Fort Vancouver, the last stop on our trip before our arrival tomorrow in Oregon City, the end of the Oregon Trail. This is a big big place, with lots of highways, traffic, malls (mini and otherwise), buildings, and people.

Phoebe was SO right about the camping equipment. I offered my deepest apologies and made unwavering assurances that, like Joe in "Joe vs. the Volcano" (if you haven't seen it, you should...NOW), wherever we go, whatever we do, no matter what--we're taking it with us.

Maybe this is what "pining" means...?

Attention Video Blog Fans!

I managed to get a few moments (okay, more than a few) to put together the "Mud" video that I had intended all along. So...even if you've already read the post about the famed mud wallowing, check it out again. The title of the post, so you can skip right to it, is "Baker City, Oregon". It's just a couple posts down. Now, in place of the photos of Phoebe in the mud, is a video (with apologies for the shaking..the cinematographer was standing in the mud too!) complete with the perfect song, which coincidentally, happened to be one of my dad's very favorite songs of all time--he would play it, lean back, and smile and smile. Now you can join him. Enjoy!

Kinda like "The Hague"...but different

Okay. I ask you... am I the only one who wants to call up that Mike Fowler guy and be the proud new owner of this place? It's like Grauman's Chinese Theater Northwest!! My dialing digit is itchin', let me tell ya. (I know, it's an out-of-date metaphor, but it seemed apropos in this case!)

[SLAP!] Okay, I'm back. Thanks, I needed that. (as long as we're going with out of date metaphors, why not do it right?)

As promised, we began the morning walking amidst the racks and piles of mind-alteringly beautiful things at the Pendleton Wool Mills. Check out the girl in her "robe" (that's actually what this piece is called):


Our visit there included a tour, which we both loved. Blessedly, the factory was not running today, as it was nice and quiet. It would have been really cool to see the looms at work, but the noise would have likely been too much for Phoebe, so this was good. They make a rug in 18 minutes on their regular looms, or in 10 minutes on the new fancy ones from Germany (those Germans, eh?). Wow. We walked in a forest of spools of brightly colored fine wool yarn. It was splendiferous.

Of course, being us, we wound up bypassing the gorgeous shirts, jackets, robes, and blankets, and instead bought these HUGE bags of the ends that are cut off the looms--long colorful pieces of obviously Pendleton fabrics, to make into things that are as yet to be identified. Oooh.

Also, as promised, we returned to the the Tamastslikt Cultural Center for a more leisurely look around at the exhibit that focuses on three tribes of the area: Cayuse, Umatilla, and Walla Walla tribes. There was also an exhibit on loan from the Smithsonian about the extensive Mohawk participation in much historical New York City high-rise construction, including a large section on the World Trade Center. Particularly special today was a woman that we met at a table in the gift shop--she was there demonstrating fine Indian beadwork, and she talked with us a while and showed Phoebe her beautiful work. They talked together about the Nez Perce Indians. As promised, we bought some stunning (and tiny) seed beads to make into ANOTHER as-yet-to-be-identified project. Phoebe wants to sew (well, actually, wants ME to sew) moccasins that she can bead. No prob, kid. Just call me Minnetonka.

We took off toward the west, catching our first sight of the mighty Columbia River, a crucial landmark indicating our proximity to the end of the trail.

It's huge. It's fast. It's windy. It's powerful. It's hard to imagine how the emigrants floated rafts with oxen and wagons and people on its current to Oregon City, an exercise which of course, some of them did not survive. It's easy to see why.

We stopped for the night in The Dalles, Oregon, a point that is called "The End of the Oregon Trail", except it's not really. It's the place where the huge bands of travelers split up, however, making the decisions whether to attempt to float downriver or to take the treacherous, rocky, and challenging Barlow Road (which we will explore tomorrow). For those of you who have been in this part of the country, you will appreciate that we could see Mount Hood standing proudly above the landscape as we drove along the river toward town. Grand. Makes you wonder, as ever, what the pioneers thought as they caught glimpse of this majestic peak (bet it wasn't skiing!)

And for the more humor prone among us...lest you think The Dalles is a sleepy little hamlet where the sidewalks roll up at 6:00 and the only theater in town is for sale (oh....well, never mind), let me just say that this is one hip place. After all, have YOU ever seen a town with a Rorschach billboard on the main drag? (vaht do you see??? hmmm...interessting)

But wait! There's more! (No, not free Ginsu knives...sorry) Now, I know that there are parts of Oregon that are very progressive--remember when all those gay and lesbian people got married here, defying the law? I bet you know some lefty (or more than one) who lives, has lived, or wants to live in Oregon. But then again, not all of Oregon is so inclined (those marriages were declared illegal, for example) which made it all the more amazing to see that there are entire stores, nay, SUPERSTORES, devoted to bisexual shoppers! I mean, even in the deep blue state of Massachusetts, we don't have such things! I have to say: I Am Impressed. And You Should Be Too.


Signing off from the oh-so-groovy town of The Dalles, Oregon...see you tomorrow along the banks of the great Columbia!

The Blues

After a rousing breakfast at an aptly named local place, we took off for the National Oregon Trail Interpretive Center. While it was a great place, and its location was beautiful, I would have to respectfully disagree that this was the museum "not to be missed", as suggested by several sources. We didn't find it as interactive as we imagined, though the displays and the movies were good. To be fair, there is a lot of repetition for us, as it is assumed that few people have been on anywhere near the whole trail, and therefore they would have not been to the various interpretive centers and museums along the way. For example, we went to one presentation on food and cooking along the trail, and they asked how many in the group of about 40 had been to Independence Rock, and Phoebe and I were two of the three who had. Phoebe got called on to tell people about it, which was thrilling.



The one thing we learned a lot about in this particular museum that we hadn't seen before was the written guides that emigrants followed as they traversed the trail--very interesting stuff, with advice about how and where to cross rivers, what to bring, how to deal with different situations. We bought a reproduction copy of one of those guides, so that we could read it more thoroughly.

Today, we saw our first sight of tall pine trees--lots of 'em in the Blue Mountains--and wondered at how the pioneers must have felt seeing such a sight after months crossing the dry prairie. Phoebe immediately pointed out that the childrens' job of walking next to the wagon and collecting buffalo chips to make fires was over (for now, at least) as the forest meant that firewood was plentiful. There are many diaries that speak of how struck they were by the area's beauty. It was a relief even to us, and our journey has been so painless by comparison.

When we arrived in Pendleton (home of the famed wool shirts and blankets), we headed straight for the Tamastslikt Cultural Center, imagining that we could take it in in the hour and a half we had before it closed. Ha! This is a wonderful (and large!) place, the only interpretive center on the entire trail that is owned by Indians. This photo was taken in their garden, at the beginning of a large display of tipi-like structures that illustrates the evolution of housing over the history of the tribes--this is one of the oldest. Just for a little perspective--the Oregon Trail pioneers were here about 150 years ago. These peoples report that they have lived here for 10,000 years. History, like all things, is surely relative.


The museum focuses exclusively on the culture of the surrounding Indian tribes, the impact on the Indians of the westward expansion, and the importance of preservation of language, traditions, and culture. We are going back tomorrow in order to try to take more of it in, and maybe, just maybe, to buy a few hanks of gorgeous seed beeds available in the store there (I can't help myself). There is spectacular beadwork on display in the museum. I've put a link to the center in the links section, so you can read more about it. It was wonderful to spend a good portion of a day (and then another day) focusing on the story from a different angle, from a different voice. I was very moved by what I saw so far, and look forward to seeing it at less than a sprinter's pace, as well as to have the time to talk with Phoebe about what all of this means.

One last note...at the gift shop at Tamastslikt, I found a picture book to share with Phoebe (and hopefully with some of you), called The Great Change.

It's a Native American story, with beautiful watercolor illustrations, in which a grandmother explains death to her granddaughter, when the child asks why things die, and most pointedly why her grandfather had to die. She explains that it must happen so that the circle of life will not be broken. It jumped out at me from the shelf, and I flipped open to a page on which the grandmother says that "...the 'special part' of Grandpa became part of everything that lives, my girl!". And it was done--as you can imagine.

Baker City, Oregon

Well, having arrived in the long awaited promised land, we seem to moseying our way across Oregon, averaging about 75 miles a day, compared with the 100-200 we were covering previously. It seems that there are so many things to see here, and we have plenty of time, so we’re takin’ it easy.

Today, we spent the early part of the day at the Four Rivers Cultural Center in Ontario, Oregon, an interesting and well put together museum, quite different from anywhere we have been. The community built this museum to honor the different cultural groups that settled in the Ontario area, these being Basque, Japanese, Native American (Paiute), Hispanic, and white descendants of Oregon Trail pioneers (mostly farmers or ranchers). There was hardly anyone there, which seemed a shame, but it was amazing to be in a museum that discussed the impact of the western expansion on Indians right next to a thorough display about Japanese internment camps in World War II.

We left town and headed west, planning our first stop to be a place called Farewell Bend, about 25 miles west of Ontario. Just before we got there, we turned off onto a gravel road for a few miles, following vague Oregon Trail Historical Marker signs, and found some prounounced trail ruts again—just as moving as the last time, though in a very different landscape.


Farewell Bend itself, where the Snake River curves to the north, is where the Oregon Trail emigrants left the river behind them and struck out across dry land, not following a major river for the first time—they had to travel overland until they reached the Columbia. It is a beautiful location, with a wide expanse of the river spread out before you--


--it is now a rather lush park and campground. But that wasn’t the best part. That, Phoebe will have to tell you about:

Arriving in Farewell Bend, there was lots of shady spots with trees and we saw lots of places to camp on that ground with shade on them and a picnic bench and there was a place for a grill to go. And we also noticed there were two little girls down at the river and we noticed they were making very deep marks. We thought it was sand, but it was really deep deep mud that you could stomp in! Mommy and I went down and we stomped in the mud. It was very deep, like up to my knees, in some parts. We both went with our sandals and then I went in the mud with my sandals—they got all sticky. I went and put them on the side, near the rocks and I went in the mud with my bare feet!

It felt all squooshy and slimy, but again, it was worth it! It was wet all over the place. I felt like running into the water and swimming off to a decent land, where there was rain. And just to remind you, we’re going on the Oregon Trail, so we’re gonna end up in Oregon City—that has loads and loads of rain! If any of us could get out of school and go there in the spring, well, spring…you know, it’s the rain season for most places. Mommy got out of the mud and she watched me as I sank deeper into the mud, getting everything covered with mud, including a little bit on my face! I stomped in the mud for about 30 more minutes, throwing mud piles all over the place!

Then I got out and we both washed ourselves off. I changed my clothes, ‘cause, yet again, I got mud all over them. Then we got back in the car and drove away…but, not to mention the mosquito bites!

So on and on we kept going ‘cause you know, we had a long trip ahead of us, and then, surprisingly, we got to Baker City!

Well, as you know now, we landed in Baker City, Oregon, only to find that it was packed with Shriners as today was the East West game here in town (who knew?). Major enormous fez on a float in our hotel parking lot. It’s a charming old town, with a glorious hotel called the Geiser Grand (we’re not staying there) that was built in 1874 and is still furnished and decorated in period style. The downtown is old and charming, and EVERYONE stops for pedestrians here, even a horse-drawn carriage that was making its way down the street.

We stayed over here in order to maximize our time at what we hear is a wonderful museum called The Oregon Trail Interpretive Center. We will be able to tell you more about that tomorrow, when we will report from Pendleton, Oregon (I feel warmer already).

See you then….Oh! Wait! Favorite trivia fact of the day: In this part of Oregon, in the early days, cowboys were not called cowboys. They were called…BUCKAROOS!!

Nampa, Idaho to Ontario...OREGON!!!

[Today's entry provided entirely by Phoebe]

At first, in the morning, I just scrambled out with getting the bags in the car, getting ice, and filling the cooler with it. And then we went out to the car and we drove a little while. And then we got to the pretend Fort Boise. Fort Boise is a pretend place because there was a bad flood in the 1800's near when the pioneers were going on the Oregon Trail. Fort Boise got washed away in the Snake River. The people tried to put it back up, but there was a big fight with Indians so they couldn't, they just had to leave. Then they discovered trains, so after a while, they didn't need it anymore.



And there was a girl there, I would say about in her teens. I heard a little woof of a dog and the girl picked up a sweet little puppy, about eight weeks old. It was a golden retriever. It was so cute. It was her resting time in the day, so she was yawning all the time. And she let me hold her! Her name was Casey. They had gotten her about three days ago.

So we went around to see the pretend Fort Boise. There were old schools, old churches, a place where there was all kinds of books, and there was a place, a little log cabin, that we got to go inside and see the beds and a little baby cradle and we were so surprised to come back, leave the pretend Fort Boise, and go to the REAL Fort Boise (but we couldn't see any of the buildings because they had probably drowned).


We got to see the Snake River up close.


It was an exciting sight. We heard either a fish or a frog. Then we went back and we started driving, and we saw quail birds. And we kept on driving.

Interruption: Betsye--I'm on my way to send you a postcard. Almost finished it.

We drove on and on and on. We had a great surprise coming up. I didn't know what it was. Then, I saw it! A sign of "Oregon"!


So, finally arriving in Oregon, we drove a little ways and we got to this man's grave. He had died of the black measles. The grave was put exactly where he died. We got to see it. It was just a big rock with a sign on top. But the most exciting part was that some pioneer had carved his name into his grave.



Then we got in the car again. We kept on driving. There was hardly any signal on the phone. First there was one signal, then there would be none again, then it would go to two, then there was none again. Finally, when there was two, I made sure that it was there for a long time. Then I quickly pressed send twice and I called Mama. She answered quickly. I said that we might lose her, and we did. We called her again when there was two signals and we said again that we might lose her, but we didn't this time. We talked for only one minute and then we hung up again.

We kept on driving for a little while. We got to the hotel. We checked in, and we went to our room. I watched a little TV when Mommy was getting the bags. Then we went out to eat at Sizzler's. We got fried shrimp and I got sweet potato with butter and cinnamon and I ate it all up.

Then we went out to the fair. We saw part of a rodeo, we looked at all the cows. Just between you guys and me, one of the cows peed and the other one pooped. Then we went off and we saw goats and sheep and we saw pigs and they were squealing like crazy.



Then we went and we looked at the rodeo. It was cool. They roped little bulls and they rode tamed horses that had straps on their back that made 'em kick and made 'em look like they were wild. Then we went off and I played the balloon game with the pins, you try to pop the balloon. And then we went off and we got some miniature little chocolate donuts, they were "mini" and we got them on a plate. They were like a plain donut with chocolate on it--chocolate frosted, it's called. I ate one. They were very good. Mommy ate two. And then we went off.

We got to the car and drove back to our hotel. Then we did some of our little model of Fort Hall. We glued them on. We need to let it dry now. We'll finish the rest tomorrow. Now I am sitting here writing my little story on the blog about the day.

Get back to us soon.

Phoebe

Twin Falls, ID to Nampa, ID

Spent most of the day today along the gorgeous Snake River, from Shoshone Falls back into the flat plain, where the river is still grand, but less imposing than upstream. As we got a late start (again!), we weren't able to pack in the sights today, but spent a couple of hours at the Hagerman Fossil Beds National Monument in Hagerman, ID. Phoebe loved it there--many activities for kids, and skeletons (or replicas) of many animals found locally. An interesting fact--did you know that camels originated in North America, and then migrated to Asia where they became more populated? And that the Hagerman Horse skeleton, found right here, is one of the most important contributions to the study of the evolution of the modern horse (it's considered the link between ancient horses and modern horses, and is about the size and structure of a zebra)? And that Mastodons and a saber-toothed cat roamed southern Idaho? Great stuff.

We've stopped for the night outside Boise (it was a shock to see such a big city!), as we want to see Fort Boise tomorrow--it's only open for tours on Friday, Sat, and Sunday and then only between 1:00-3:00 p.m....so it's lucky we're here on a Friday.

And here's the real shocker---hold on to your hat--we went out to dinner and had some of the best Japanese food we've ever had. Up until this point, we had been considering our Asian food experiences on this trip as our way of vicariously experiencing the many risks taken by the pioneers (we've had Japanese in Idaho and Wyoming, and we had Chinese in rural Nebraska), but now that's shot. So much for assumptions about cuisine in the heartland (yeah, go ahead, call me a coastal snob, an elitist, whatever...I've heard it all before, and you're right anyway).

And one more thing about today...I wonder if any of you ever have had this experience. We had a lengthy conversation this morning with our warm, wonderful, bright 24 year old waitress at IHOP in Twin Falls, whose name was Amanda (hello, if you're reading this, Amanda!). She has a darling three year old son named Emilio--we saw his picture. We got to chatting about travel, and she said that she had never been outside this area--the furthest she had been was to Boise, and not even there since her son's birth. She said she was one of nine kids, and so they never could afford to travel. She really wants to see Greece (me too!), Rome, Scotland, England, California (she has never seen the ocean, and really wants to), Arkansas (where her mom lives), Las Vegas (where her sister lives), and lots of other places. It got me thinking a mile a minute about the value of travel (e.g. the back of our t-shirts), how much I love it and take it for granted, and about the ways in which lives intersect, despite tremendous differences in life circumstances. It made me wish (more than you know) that I was one of those people who could afford to leave a plane ticket to somewhere on the table for her, or even somehow to keep in touch and be a travel "mentor" of sorts, or get her some kind of an award or something. I recognize it as a wish--I don't live in a Hallmark movie nor do I know much about her--but the thought of it persisted vividly throughout the day, and it seemed worth saying here. I'd love to hear if you've had similar thoughts or experiences....

Culture, Politics, and Lava

We write to you tonight, from Twin Falls, Idaho, after a very full day of sights and conversation.

I was reminded today what a difficult thing it is to sufficiently explain the notion of culture, especially as imbedded in history, to a seven year old. It's not concrete enough, it's filled with exceptions and political and historical contexts, it's just so hard to communicate! Any and all assistance on this front is most welcome! Here's what happened...

We began our day at Fort Hall, outside of Pocatello. Well, actually, we weren't at Fort Hall, we were at the replica of Fort Hall, as the real Fort Hall, as experienced by the Oregon Trail emigrants, doesn't exist in its original form and is also inaccessible as it is now located within reservation land (Shoshone-Bannock). There is a way to see it with enough advance planning (you can hire a tribal guide, which would have been wonderful--thanks again, Julie, for that tip) but as you know, planning is not our specialty, at least on these wild and woolly summer adventures. So there we were at the "pretend" Fort Hall, and Phoebe was, as usual, asking a thousand questions. It all started because there was a tipi in the middle, and Phoebe promptly went inside.



From that point on, she said that she wished she was an Indian (back then, I think) and could sleep on buffalo fur and live in a tipi. She asked of every space (the blacksmith's shop, the sleeping quarters, the kitchen) "So this is where the Indians lived?". I tried, I really tried. It was so hard keeping it all straight--which things belonged to Indians, which things belonged to the military, which things belonged to the emigrants, and how and why and when and where, for as long as her questions lasted (which is pretty much all day).



After more exploration of the fort (it was actually really neat, made of logs, with museum rooms, living quarters, and a trading post -- Phoebe pointed out the red print fabrics, which we learned yesterday were very valuable for trading as the Indians strongly favored red or red print fabrics), we headed north.

Yes, we know we're supposed to be going west, but thanks for pointing that out, we knew we could count on you.

We headed north to see how much we could see of the real site of Fort Hall, by the Snake River. We did see a roadside marker. Of course, at that point, we were on reservation land. Here we go again. Explaining the concept, the implementation, the realities, of reservation land...same deal. Tough. Phoebe started talking about how it was rude of the Indians to not let people see the original Fort Hall, or why they didn't take "good care of it", and I explained that to her satisfaction (whew). Then, of course, she said "so this is Indian land?" (a complicated question in itself, no?), started "looking for Indians", and asking MORE questions, which led to a prolonged discussion of culture, customs, holidays, etc., how all white people weren't the same (you're not kidding), what "customs" and "traditions" are, etc. About now you're probably asking yourself why these conversations lasted all day, and why I didn't change the subject. Have you ever met Phoebe? Okay.

Needless to say, I'm tired.

Being the intrepid travelers that we are, however (and always on the lookout for a good Junior Ranger Program), we decided to take an alternate (read: longer) route so that we could visit Craters of the Moon National Monument. We were delighted to find that we were still on the Oregon Trail, as this is an area in which groups of travelers diverged into two (at least) paths. We followed the one that is called "Goodale's Cutoff", which leads past the huge lava fields of the national monument.

This was a real treat. It was almost like being in Hawaii--they even use the Hawaiian words to describe lava (a'a and pahoehoe), which came as a great surprise (and treat) to me! There were glorious cindercones that took your breath away, like this one:



but Phoebe and I spent most of our time on the Cave Trail, which leads to a series of semi-navigable underground lava tubes.



We had not come well-prepared enough for the adventure of caving in these tubes, though we sorely wished we had. Our flashlights were not bright enough, we didn't have extra batteries, and we should have been wearing long pants. Other than that, though...

Both Phoebe and I were particularly drawn to a lava tube called "Boy Scout Cave", a pitch-black underground lava tube in which there are icicles and an ice-covered floor year-round (it was 96 degrees at the surface, for reference). We tried to go in, but unfortunately, could not progress far enough without better lighting--we did not want to get stuck in there. So we climbed down a short way, into dim light, and then no light, and a precipitous temperature drop (40-50 degree drop in less than 30 vertical feet). It was so cool, in more ways than one! Here's Phoebe, trying to smile in this cold underground space despite her disappointment that we couldn't go further (I had no idea whether she was smiling or not, as when I pressed the shutter, I couldn't see her at all):



We admired the photos of the place in the snow, and promised ourselves that we'd come back someday with headlamps and do the cave all the way down to the ice. Wonderful place.

Montpelier, Idaho to Pocatello

WELCOME TO SOUTHERN IDAHO!!!!

Okay, it hasn't been as bad as all that! Actually, today was one of our best days of the entire trip so far. We did end up staying here in Pocatello (our first wild birkenstock sighting since leaving Massachusetts!) for a second night, which allowed us to backtrack about 60 miles in order to see the sights we missed yesterday.

Our first stop was in Montpelier, Idaho (where I took the photo above), to visit the National Oregon-California Trail Museum. It was well worth the drive--Phoebe said it was the best one we've seen yet (and we've seen a few!). In this museum, visitors are escorted by Oregon Trail "emigrants", dressed in period costume and NEVER out of character. They take you through the museum, helping you buy your wagon and supplies, talking to you by the campfire as if you are a fellow pioneer, telling you their stories of the trail. It was fantastic, and Phoebe had many opportunities to show her knowledge--when one of the pioneer women asked her why she was going to Oregon, she said she was going for good land for farming. It wasn't the kind of place you could take pictures, but you can see it for yourself at their website, which is at the top of the links section. Wonderful place.

We then moved on to the pioneers' next stop, Soda Springs, Idaho, where there are geysers and springs. The pioneers stopped here and drank from what they called "Beer Springs", as they were convinced that the spring water was inebriating (one man drank a gallon!) The one spring that is still active, called Hooper Spring (thank you again, wonderful guide book!), has a plaque that tells you all the mineral content levels.


It was freezing cold, bubbling vigorously from its source (it's pretty heavily carbonated, not to mention mineral-laden), and the sign advised visitors to "Drink Deeply of Nature's Best Beverage". And so we did.

f

....and those of you who know Phoebe know she does NOT like seltzer, so it seemed only fair that you should see her "AFTER" photo as well:


We then moved on to our third stop of the day, Lava Hot Springs, a place originally called "Poha-Ba" or "Land of Healing Waters" by the Shoshone-Bannock Indians (read about it at www.lavahotsprings.com). There are many natural hot springs (around 110 degrees) throughout this little town, all easily accessible, and with purported healing powers. As it was 0ver 90 degrees outside, we didn't feel moved to partake, but the photos of the springs in winter, surrounded by snow, made us want to come back here again! There is also a beautiful campsite here, making us wish we had known and camped by the river here.

While we read a bit and drove by some of the historical sights and hot pools, we focused most of our attention on the ENORMOUS swimming pool complex that the state of Idaho has built near the hot springs. One of the biggest pools we've ever seen (and the best one, according to Phoebe) with 7 diving boards and platforms, 4 water slides, an enormous green sea snake in the shallow end (check it out!)


in-water basketball courts, you name it. (you can see photos of the pool complex at the above website too). We swam there for four, count 'em, FOUR hours, and had a blast. Phoebe demonstrated her ever-improving swimming skills, including more than 20 jumps off the diving board, something Mommy had never seen before! WOW! We've come a long way from not-getting-her-face-wet!! (thank you, Phoenix!)



And now we want to close with our two "It's a Small World After All" moments of the day (now we've got you humming that song, don't we? HA!). The first came in the morning, when we chatted with a couple from Texas in the hotel parking lot (we had chatted with the same people yesterday at check-in as well, mostly because they were traveling with a darling miniature schnauzer and because she was interested in the necklace that I made). It turned out that they were driving home to Texas from visiting family in Montana, where they both were raised. I asked where in Montana they were from (like I know Montana, right?) and it turned out that she was from Sand Springs, Montana, which is near Jordan (where Phoebe and Audrey--and me, last year--went to the dinosaur dig). After she got over her total shock that a person from Massachusetts knows where Jordan is, it turned out that she was a high school classmate of Tim Lervick, whose ranch we stay at for the dig, and that she knew some other people that we knew from there as well. In the hotel parking lot in Pocatello, Idaho! Go figure.

Then, while we were swimming in the pool in Lava Hot Springs (you have to understand, this is in the middle of nowhere), Phoebe made a friend named Victoria. After playing together for a while, I asked Victoria if she lived nearby. She said "No, I'm from Massachusetts". It turns out she's from Medway. Go figure again.

These experiences prompted an interesting discussion about the nature of the expression "It's a small world...", which Phoebe had not known of or understood previously. After today, she's catching on!