Bob-Kats on the Road 1-26 -12

Waimea, Hawaii - Vol 1

Aloha!!!  I hate people who say that – it’s like, I’m in Hawaii and you’re not.  Sorry, it’s my only chance!  I have gotten behind on this blogging thing.  There was just so much to say about Trinidad and Three Rivers and no time with the holidays to do a good job of it.  So, skipping that for now until a slow news day, as they say.

I know we said we were going to Australia, but could not go that far with my family situation.  I do hate to disappoint my readers (both of you), but Hawaii is not too bad either.  But we are not in that Hawaii … and we are not in the Kauai-Waimea of Beach Boys fame either.  This is the Big Island and this Waimea is in the mountains and not on the beach.  We’re just not resort people, I guess.  This is perfect – a lot to do and see that is very different and a lot to learn about.  We are here for a month and laying on the beach would have lasted about two days for us.

We arrived in Kona, picked up a jeep and headed down the coast to Waimea/Kamuela.  (About that Kamuela – because there is another Waimea, the post office made them come up with another name. “ Kamuela” is the Hawaiianization of Samuel, a local name here)  Never mind.

Waimea is perfect – it is not a resort town, real people live here and it has an uncontrived, authentic feel to it much  like Trinidad.

We stopped at the grocery store to pick up breakfast things.  The first thing we noticed was everything is $5.  I mean, everything – bread, $5, milk, $5, English muffins, $5.

Okay, ditch expensive muffins for junk food.  Doughnut holes, $10.99.  Hmm.

So, the next day we went back to Kona to Costco and spent $467 on provisions.  Not to worry, we are supporting our local community here very well still.

We rented a house outside of Waimea.  It was advertised as belonging to artists.  That usually means the house has been modified in some peculiar way.  There is a bit of that in this house (which has 11 skylights!), but the effect is pleasing and I think they have done a good job making the house both charming and comfortable.

We are at the foot of Mauna Kea (13,800 ft. volcanic mountain) and most days can see it from the deck.

Waimea is at 3500 feet elevation, so is cooler and wetter than the beach area just 10 miles away.  It is lush and green, with extravagant blooming plants and trees, vines climb everywhere.  An obese Angus next door rolled up to the fence to see us.  I could read his expression perfectly – so much grass, so little time, burrph…

Many people here have horses, sheep, goats, whatever.  And  I think do it to keep down the grass.  And of course there are chickens.  Thank you, neighbor.  Without your rooster I would not know the passing of each hour in the night.

We have birds, oh yes.  The common myna is everywhere.  They are, I think, the starlings of Hawaii.  But at least they are attractive.

That is one thing.  There were few birds here naturally.  Those who brought them in and released them, for the most part brought nice looking birds.

The Japanese white eye.

The yellow fronted canary.

The Kalij pheasant.

The Java sparrow

The house is gated, as are almost all the houses here.  They are gated against feral pigs – just what you want to find in your back yard when you come home!

And in the evenings, we sit on the deck.  Make a fire.

And put on some IZ.  His beautiful voice, a presence only weighing 800 pounds can give, no better way to end a day in Hawaii.

Bob’ Extra Edition – On the Road “Tubs and Showers”

You don’t have any control over tubs and showers when you are on the road . . . Ya know, like at home where you can pick out a shower head, curtain and mat that fits your comfort needs.  I’m not really tall, just over 6’, but the number of shower heads installed at chin level, aiming icy or steamy water directly at my Adam’s apple is amazing.

I ran into one tub (Landmark Inn, Pikeville, Kentucky) that had the shower head installed at the opposite end from the faucet and drain.  Of course, I would forget this fact every morning so that  when I bent over to start the shower,  ice cold water hit me right in the a__!  And those nanny state regulations that demand temperature limiters on the hot water side just pi__ me off.  Gee, I’m a grown-up, I actually can tell when the water is too hot or too cold and I even have a valve that allows me to set it where I want it, not where some nose-pick bureaucrat decided it should be!

Well here at the Morning Fire house in Waimea we have an unusual issue of over-exposure when it comes to showers.  We have a bath upstairs and one downstairs.  The one upstairs is totally open to the bedroom and sky lights . . .

. . . and it is a glass tube, elevated about three feet above floor level.  Talk about being on display!  Well we’ve named It “Shower-a-go-go at the Peppermint Lounge”  kind of like those ‘60s go-go-bird-cages that Goldie Hawn and Judy Carne danced in on Laugh-In.  Every night when I pass through the A-Go-Go shower to get in the hot tub I have a undeniable urge to Go-Go dance . . . Kat has to talk me down or I would be there all night.

I talked Kat into using the A-Go-Go shower on a morning basis and I took the shower downstairs.  However, as you can see, the exposure problem is still somewhat of an issue in my shower.

Bob-Kats on the Road 11-22 -11

Trinidad

We had been in Trinidad nearly two months.  We loved every minute of it.  We explored the forests and beaches nearly every day.  We joined a church and met wonderful people that we will never forget.  Bob’s sister Barbara lives in Arcata, so we very much enjoyed reconnecting with her.

If there is any downside to this place, it is that it is so incredibly beautiful that even driving to the grocery store you feel compelled to stop and take a picture in case you do not have that view in that exact light.  I mentally calculate the number of pictures I will have of these two miles of beach over a year’s time should we ever live here.

Life Happens

Then I got a call from home.   It was clear that my 90-something year old mother could no longer care for my father.  We must find care for him in an appropriate facility immediately.  Bob cleared the jeep of backpacks and hiking boots while I packed and we were home near San Francisco six hours later.

We found a beautiful place for Dad and were wading through paperwork when I got a call from my daughter.  My daughter needed her mother and my mother needed her daughter.  What to do?  Well, both, of course.  We got Dad moved and I flew to North Carolina.  My brother and Bob stayed with my mother.  For light relief the two of them cleaned out my parent’s house, making trips to Goodwill, the county landfill and culminating with two huge 4x4x4 bags from the local refuse people for whatever was left over.   This sounds like something from the hoarding show, but it’s a big house with many hiding places.  Apparently my dad had things he liked to collect over the past 50 years– odd pieces of wood, rusted tools, broken small appliances, and all those things one might use again (not!).   Holy cow, this was every bit as much fun as it sounds.  There is general agreement in the family and in my parent’s neighborhood that Bob is wonderful.  (He is.)

I, meanwhile, helped my daughter move into a lovely little house on a beautiful horse farm in Chapel Hill. Actually, I am of no help with the real moving part.  My function was more a mom-is-here-everything-will-be-all-right sort of thing.  She has trees, ponds and horses outside her windows and many great friends nearby.  She will be just fine in her new solo life.

Both she and my mother have had burdens lifted from them and are breathing much easier now.

Dad, too, is settling in.  In our first visit with him in his new home, my mother said, “Missy is here.”  (My childhood name)  Dad has not known me for some time now, but he said, “My Missy?” and turned toward me and put out his arms.  What a sweet, sad moment.

Hutch and Max – Circa 1995

Bob-Kats on the Road 10-19 -11

Closing in on Nirvana

Garberville

We bid adieu to foggy Bodega Bay and headed north to Garberville.  101 winds through some tourist areas featuring trees.  Well, they are not just trees, but rather trees that have been tweaked to make them appealing tourist traps.  They are living trees that have been cut out so that you can drive a car through them, trees that have been hollowed out and kitted up with furniture so that they could be called a real tree house and so on.  Oy.  I guess you stop to see these oddities (and I admit to doing that myself 20 years ago) and then  presumably go buy some of the forest-kitch available – a statue of Big Foot for your yard carved with a chain saw out of genuine redwood perhaps?  Oy again.

There are trees that have been left more or less in peace such as the magnificent Grandfather Tree.  This is a coastal redwood that is at least 1800 years old standing 265 feet.  It is not a tall tree compared to others, but rather, it is massive.  What makes this tree worth stopping for is that it is isolated from other trees.  This means the trees that stood by it for much of the 1800 years of its life have fallen to the saw, for no redwood can live alone.  Ordinarily redwoods exposed in this situation fall in storms or simply die, but this one still stands and you are able to see it in its entirety.  It has limbs the size of entire 100 year-old oaks and many of the remarkable structures of a coastal redwood of this age are visible from the ground.  More on all that later.

We stayed at Benbow Valley RV Resort and Golf Course.  La-tee-da.  Well, it is quite lovely and adjacent to the absolutely wonderful Benbow Inn.  I stayed there once and would recommend it.

We set up and went into Garberville seven miles away to the grocery store and found……all the hippies in the world.  I’m not kidding.  If you are wondering where they went, they went to Garberville.  Going into the grocery store was like stepping back into the 70s.  It was great.  And, you know, they are not so dumb.  They live there in sunshine and warmth and beauty and, if their brains are a bit addled by recreational pharmaceuticals, their brows are not furrowed by stress, their eyes unclouded by worldly cares.  One could do worse.

We were there for two days as it was an exhausting drive -- of all of three hours -- from Bodega Bay.  Actually, it was hot and sunny, so it was good to dry out a bit.  We watched people pulling in across from us and realized they were the same people who were across from us in Bodega Bay.  So, a brief but fun friendship was forged.  A shout out to Carolyn and Mark and the pups!  We ended up traveling up the road together to Trinidad and it was a very good time.

Eureka

This town has an unusual feel to it.  Is it hippy?  Pioneer?  Some of  both?   It has very charming areas.  There are some of the most beautifully kept and elaborate Victorian houses I have ever seen.

And it has a nice little harbor.

But there is something I can’t quite put my finger on.  There is a kind of end of the line feel to it.  Maybe it’s the hitchhikers.  I have never seen so many hitchhikers of such a ...what?...different character.  Dreadlocks, bare feet and a dog.  Hmm.  Do you think you might be limiting your prospects?

But there is something else.  There are service businesses such as auto repair places.   There are more furniture stores, both new and used, than I have seen in a 100 mile radius of Marshall.  Food, fuel and housing are very expensive here and, while there is no in-your-face affluence, the residents seem to be doing okay.  Logging and whaling were industries of the past and though there is still a saw mill there, it seems to have a lot of cut lumber, but few people in evidence.  I have had a chance to consider this since we have now been here six weeks – more on that later – and I believe I have found the answer in one of those free local papers.  There is between $250 million and $1 billion worth of marijuana produced in Humboldt County per year (apparently it’s somewhat difficult to pin a basically illegal industry down exactly).  And it is harvest-time right now. 

Many things now make sense.  There are some feed and seed places here, but there are far more with horticultural supplies.  Horticulture?  One look inside one and you know this is not your father’s Tractor Supply Company.  And the influx of transients on the road?  They are coming in search of high-paying trimming jobs.  At least $25 million a year goes into the economy here from those jobs alone.  At $20 an hour, (Uncle Sam free) these jobs are coveted and protected by residents who have been doing them for years. That explains the forlorn, disappointed look of the still-unemployed hitchhikers moving on through, destinations uncertain.  Many cardboard signs say simply “north”.  The kids break my heart, but to the adults (who are referred to as “down on their luck”), I have three words of advice to apply: sobriety, hygiene and industry!

I have one more thought.  Friends of ours here have a son who is border patrol on our northern border with Canada.   One would think they have a lot of time on their hands, but no, they are in fact quite busy as they say the northern border is being flooded with drugs – yes, from Mexico - just as the southern border.  So, north, south and here in the middle: maryjane up to our hip pockets.  Are we becoming the united states of Cheech and Chong?  Is anybody sober?  (Hmmm. This could explain some recent decisions of our government).  And could this be a cause of global warming???  Somebody, look into that.

Arcata

A college town, home of Humboldt State University.  It’s a pretty school and the town has a lot of charm in that bit-of-grunge, lots-of-kids-everywhere kind of way.

Trinidad

Then you are on the road to Trinidad.  And … holy cow … what is that?  It’s the ocean, the Pacific as far as you can see.

And then trees, huge trees on both sides of the road.

Finally, you are in Trinidad.  There is a grocery store and restaurants.  What else really do you need?

And scenery, lots of scenery.

A narrow, bouncy road along the ocean leads to our RV Park.  It’s a 10 minute trip, but it is breathtaking.

The park is small, but very nice.  Sounds of the Sea is its name and indeed there are sounds of the sea.

You can hear the surf when the ocean is wild and you can hear the sea lions nearly always.  AR AR AR.  And in case you have ever wondered about it, they do that all night, too.  Oddly, it is not annoying as with barking dogs, but rather nice and somehow comforting.  

We immediately moved from the traditional RV area to a place way up on the hill.  I have no idea how we got this thing up here.  I just remind myself that if it went up, it can also go down.  But it is wonderful up here.  We have the woods to ourselves -- complete with deer at no extra charge.

And we can see the ocean.

Across the street Patrick’s Point State Park, a beautiful place with towering Sitka spruce, tide pools and agate beaches.  Why would we leave?  So, we didn’t.  We became the people who came and stayed….and stayed….and stayed.

A few of the neighbors:

Harbor Seals

Black Oystercatcher

Pacific Green Anemone

Ochre Starfish

Roosevelt Elk

End of the day . . .

. . . Bob is cooking.

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