tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28595356153742037112024-03-05T18:47:11.117-08:00Blogging and Sloggin Across OregonBlogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-1073088072191191452010-06-08T19:39:00.001-07:002010-06-08T21:37:29.874-07:00In Comes the Reserve<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ9njfOng_HJejje1qMnzuacNT99GYnqzN33a9urw5BdPMcR3vbZpwpQJgCJrz9UCAeoygRfAzmQKj9gFghD3iYU2aRAfvBObf1hjPv5_UE1pBRi5MZFZi0zAwmQ6W0g7KUxizSNeaaPU/s1600/Day+16+032.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480618125740499618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ9njfOng_HJejje1qMnzuacNT99GYnqzN33a9urw5BdPMcR3vbZpwpQJgCJrz9UCAeoygRfAzmQKj9gFghD3iYU2aRAfvBObf1hjPv5_UE1pBRi5MZFZi0zAwmQ6W0g7KUxizSNeaaPU/s400/Day+16+032.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> Lifelong friends Mike and Ted set out on Day 13</span></em></div><p align="left"></p><p align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Mike gears up on Day 13</span></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIAF9Q8rnApUJirly7VHRKD_u0GBe3UrNsakovRyM40sAp8LxTL1aLRXIBJU0M0ZTc8WqUFaqWvg8s16b1v8KVFbeELR9mZkevWyZMXtP86CoRv2miughFr-S7jHUsimqR2d0P7dFZcOI/s1600/Day+16+031.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480617621175312690" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIAF9Q8rnApUJirly7VHRKD_u0GBe3UrNsakovRyM40sAp8LxTL1aLRXIBJU0M0ZTc8WqUFaqWvg8s16b1v8KVFbeELR9mZkevWyZMXtP86CoRv2miughFr-S7jHUsimqR2d0P7dFZcOI/s200/Day+16+031.jpg" border="0" /></a> </p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Just when you think you’ve had enough, enough shuttling Ted back and forth, enough dropping off his lunch, enough being continuously “on call” in comes the reserve. And the reserve came in the form of Mike Hubbard, college buddy and lifelong friend of Ted’s and best man in our wedding. And for the next three days, Mike was certainly my “best man” relieving me to do such fun tasks as washing clothes and running errands. I even found time to putting a few more entries on the blog! By taking two cars out each day, Mike’s little green car along with the WAO Sag Wagon, I was set free.</span><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Ted at the half-way point of the walk</span></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VUsg0WcE0HYbVYrJurmGYp4L29NRMWhpnEaXNJcH5yxswxJJZ8spbNb9y5RWdFHJ490ukNNRNjR2vTYc5f2NaD2kI4tzS2kO2hfbD8io_I8IuVFUn8jhtFPDPWAe-ShOeWATuw2HYd0/s1600/Day+16+035.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480616962328340978" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VUsg0WcE0HYbVYrJurmGYp4L29NRMWhpnEaXNJcH5yxswxJJZ8spbNb9y5RWdFHJ490ukNNRNjR2vTYc5f2NaD2kI4tzS2kO2hfbD8io_I8IuVFUn8jhtFPDPWAe-ShOeWATuw2HYd0/s200/Day+16+035.jpg" border="0" /></em></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> <span style="font-size:85%;">Though I can’t tell of <span style="color:#00cccc;"><strong>Days 13, 14 and 15</strong></span> firsthand, I do know that Mike provided tremendous support for Ted and as they walked every mile together for a grand total of 50 miles. They reached the halfway point of the trip on Day 14. Together they climbed the Ochoco Divide while walking through a snow flurry. Mike even walked the entire final day with a bad blister, cutting out the end of an old tennis shoe to give his toe relief, thus enabling him to make that final day’s trek.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXf0L2cXQdERl23oGnhyi7HXOe9ZyPfgnFUJ-lJ_nE6RBEd8pyZ3EZX3ue6w4cL8vBnUZemRNeRMbmf44vDkA2HkbJtC6m_hjv7gsxvtQen5S_FTfYCaRuERtYHk1h80HgRIFAESbrSAg/s1600/Day+16+035.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480615671521513346" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTMaqfCR8uKoOfzAEu4Z26OuMoUVI3CWfOPLBjuCg3jpQj2yBz8WN7KVh7No6a8pKy8E8EMZ2h6NWmJ-4YV2cEecLWI30iPpIssjKa0agrTfsTyt-wcCGlLUJi99-9ASyma856sMXh7W8/s200/Day+16+001.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-size:85%;">Other than their walk through Prineville early on the first day, the remainder of the trek was though the countryside, by the beautiful Ochoco Reservoir, along a meandering stream and green valley and then into the Ochoco National Forest with more of the beautiful, proud Ponderosa pines. And the stories they must have told, remembering and reliving past adventures and exploits, embellishing and making them grander than the first time around as they walked along.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">These three days were a “sentimental journey” for Ted in other ways as well. His introduction to central Oregon came as a child when he would visit his aunt and uncle who lived by the Ochoco Reservoir. Compared to the Willamette valley, he found the countryside surreal and through his childlike eyes thought it looked “prehistoric.” When he first started teaching he would spend his summers working for the forest service out of the Big Summit and Rager Ranger Districts. He loved the contrasting quite of the forest compared to the frantic frenzy of teaching elementary PE. The forest refreshed and rejuvenated him. This is the area where Ted first fell in love with central Oregon, those many years ago.</span><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Ted with Ramona McCalister</span></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicysvq3KtgMG3yShlL-S80yIHSp6Outoao0qSS98zc1rTsZJ5YluchMWxCCiVVkq1en3IMtD8umRn8Bx5xnuAUZgPu0xYgO6F6uLQrea_KV4gSd4mEPHQVVStGdYK2p7j6e_tUppcgdk8/s1600/Day+16+021.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480604703210581010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicysvq3KtgMG3yShlL-S80yIHSp6Outoao0qSS98zc1rTsZJ5YluchMWxCCiVVkq1en3IMtD8umRn8Bx5xnuAUZgPu0xYgO6F6uLQrea_KV4gSd4mEPHQVVStGdYK2p7j6e_tUppcgdk8/s200/Day+16+021.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">And on one last note, a big shout out goes to Ramona McCalister of the Central Oregonian for the great article you wrote when Ted passed your way. This too was sentimental as the Central Oregonian was the first newspaper Ted had his name in when he played baseball on a Forest Service team, back all those many years ago.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span>Mike orders ribs at Toni's</span></em><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480603346375932066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnsBMtwKYdFsYrL_Eq4w6X9d5hmforfpRLfx9zVncWkAH2OgEkPioaW5HBa9Eq0Fd9yWOMmTTtRq_Fbc8Jt8BH4x81OYTEr-F_NJfjA0VVhranpKtsy8Uq0rdpW6RK86oxeCl_saEa62Y/s200/Day+16+022.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-size:85%;">And always remember, you can’t make a trip through Prineville without stopping at Toni’s for ribs So tender they drop off the bone.<br /></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Once again, thanks Mike, you’ll always be our “best man”.</span><br /><br /></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9FzS8f9hZ-2dq_MQKCO4EXhx5CQAlwGHQoTcrr7P6TdwKBgwnnIyt8jzlXf1zSPnB44otA05TVdUMWnDMI45VNBzhFfJalIFJ3D1yDzskWDuBAEJ5jM7IsOhXDN9uIwpC12snqjoKd2E/s1600/Day+16+027.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480598317313483714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9FzS8f9hZ-2dq_MQKCO4EXhx5CQAlwGHQoTcrr7P6TdwKBgwnnIyt8jzlXf1zSPnB44otA05TVdUMWnDMI45VNBzhFfJalIFJ3D1yDzskWDuBAEJ5jM7IsOhXDN9uIwpC12snqjoKd2E/s320/Day+16+027.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> Ted celebrates the end of Day 13</span></em> </div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-61175833739383528552010-06-08T19:02:00.000-07:002010-06-08T19:13:32.930-07:00Lookin' Good on the Road<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCpI14bJ0NYT7S0ZNRmudAIOqFTR6oIF1O3s1tebFCksudi0VKd75vCXr6-1agw-5GKu27kbOw6y7k1cGRVmNRb5w_dzcTNObvTmMcEeFPali1AD7_BnR7rOlTEMia6GPZPJgkyJk3TcE/s1600/Natalie+1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480590572637084466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCpI14bJ0NYT7S0ZNRmudAIOqFTR6oIF1O3s1tebFCksudi0VKd75vCXr6-1agw-5GKu27kbOw6y7k1cGRVmNRb5w_dzcTNObvTmMcEeFPali1AD7_BnR7rOlTEMia6GPZPJgkyJk3TcE/s320/Natalie+1.JPG" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> Ted greets Natalie upon arriving at the salon<br /></span></em><br /></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg93O9kWBF2DrAPdgZn9GUnv5azrED78-cLwx9onFFGuadRfrAeOyD4e-yJvSESX-8e8W4difQQG_pCkps3xErsKzMZxxn00m3n8GLeV0Faqol6vetpY_p3ZamtW64eVa8GwljLif0ni6Q/s1600/Natalie+2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480589562365485826" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg93O9kWBF2DrAPdgZn9GUnv5azrED78-cLwx9onFFGuadRfrAeOyD4e-yJvSESX-8e8W4difQQG_pCkps3xErsKzMZxxn00m3n8GLeV0Faqol6vetpY_p3ZamtW64eVa8GwljLif0ni6Q/s200/Natalie+2.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">As <span style="color:#663300;"><strong>Day 12’s</strong></span> route took Ted through downtown Redmond, he decided to stop in at Shear Madness for a haircut. Our friend Natalie Roberts graciously opened her salon on her day off to keep Ted “lookin’ good on the road”. After this brief repose, Ted was back on the road, headed to Prineville.<br /><br />Ted saw our friend Ben Mallery while in route to Prineville. Ben pulled over for a visit and this gave Ted another break. We decided to once again try the “lunch drop”. Later that afternoon when I went to pick up Ted I first stopped at the “lunch drop” site to pick up the cooler and chair and they were gone! The Starbucks bag with a water and half a PowerAde were still there.<br /><br />We were disappointed that this happened, and especially disappointed that it happened so close to home. While not giving up on the idea, we will be more cautious about putting the cooler and chair out of sight. My only hope is that whoever took it was in need, not just mischievous. So here’s to being more careful on the road on <span style="color:#663300;"><strong>Day 12</strong></span> of the Walk Across Oregon.</span></div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-48578207938888342202010-06-08T09:27:00.001-07:002010-06-08T17:57:55.971-07:00Where's My Rock?<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMjufKzBGOQiMFS4b0Vb7iMxPg2QoNfqbYCj68anCPF_kEZPZavwTpDSNpnaPzDSyJIQIJ0MxI_NEhC9X-P6pY-6Tl8yQFrIaC2scRIQYcjCYLxwEdB-0228wKPKPu8KHNzhfKnScZ9YA/s1600/Day+9+028.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480562298556575106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMjufKzBGOQiMFS4b0Vb7iMxPg2QoNfqbYCj68anCPF_kEZPZavwTpDSNpnaPzDSyJIQIJ0MxI_NEhC9X-P6pY-6Tl8yQFrIaC2scRIQYcjCYLxwEdB-0228wKPKPu8KHNzhfKnScZ9YA/s400/Day+9+028.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;">A worried Ted retreives his WOA Rock</span></em></div><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em><p><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Jim Cornelius with Ted in Sisters</span></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxX826wI6KYUTrWC-hvVEZgbKdNkee7ez1Q8mhOf5RUVa491Dj2KT8448pOpinAq7arQntAEHawe97EF9l8viV9xf2lV4tCUDJ30lcXdNE_tf7MkFbVTv_jx0_GLC7jAO8JgDEn7IwW6o/s1600/Day+9+021.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480561397597768738" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxX826wI6KYUTrWC-hvVEZgbKdNkee7ez1Q8mhOf5RUVa491Dj2KT8448pOpinAq7arQntAEHawe97EF9l8viV9xf2lV4tCUDJ30lcXdNE_tf7MkFbVTv_jx0_GLC7jAO8JgDEn7IwW6o/s200/Day+9+021.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">At the start of <span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Day 11</strong></span> we got to do something very unusual. We got to sleep in! The reason, you ask? Ted had an interview in Sisters with Jim Cornelius of <em>The Nugget</em> at 10:00 AM. Also, it was in Sisters where we found out that <em>The Oregonian</em>, Portland’s daily had picked up Jennifer Moody’s story of Ted’s Walk Across Oregon. Nothing like a little publicity to put spring in your step!<br /><br />After the interview we headed to the intersection of Hwys 20 and 126 where we had placed the WOA rock the evening before. But it wasn’t there. “Those kids”, Ted stormed, “Why couldn’t they just leave my rock alone?” He looked up and down the road and into the woods, but all to no avail. This went on for 10 minutes or so and then I happened to glance across the street, and there was the rock! It hadn’t been taken, only moved!</span><br /><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">The "official" WAO Rock marks the spot</span></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivVriK8Wgry8i6FF6-FiYHWz4dH-AIQHkJfmebe-5JTNGKWTz55_9SPMJ3twBHzpJqblB1dpEFpyETvyIX2lXJ1F7LP-i9fOXYQCMPv07-dND609_eOQKfz6Eu_yRBO_s_sauwIEdNPmI/s1600/WAO.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480560176278973698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivVriK8Wgry8i6FF6-FiYHWz4dH-AIQHkJfmebe-5JTNGKWTz55_9SPMJ3twBHzpJqblB1dpEFpyETvyIX2lXJ1F7LP-i9fOXYQCMPv07-dND609_eOQKfz6Eu_yRBO_s_sauwIEdNPmI/s200/WAO.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">It’s just a rock, spray painted orange, with the letters W.A.O. written in with a felt tip pen. But to Ted it is far more than a rock. The rock marks the end of each day’s journey and I know it has symbolic meaning to him as well. Painting the rock kept him busy all spring as he lovingly put on coat after coat of bright orange paint. If I ever needed him out of the house, all I’d have to say is, “Don’t you need to go put another coat of paint on that rock?” And off he’d go, dutifully, to paint the rock.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>Ted takes a break during our first "lunch drop"</em></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxrUlVO__VirSmt-_i84D614RUeoVCuWE6GkX72qKomEaXF1DePouFuQPpU_hOxjWAKpBhWOovRkSsUCTJ-LJMLXtblZz0u2ePLtlXZndyUgnUN3QwVJiYTmb12Z7ujZETkPcu3u5zKoc/s1600/Day+16+012.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480558051828902978" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxrUlVO__VirSmt-_i84D614RUeoVCuWE6GkX72qKomEaXF1DePouFuQPpU_hOxjWAKpBhWOovRkSsUCTJ-LJMLXtblZz0u2ePLtlXZndyUgnUN3QwVJiYTmb12Z7ujZETkPcu3u5zKoc/s200/Day+16+012.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Day 11</strong></span> was also the day we came up with the “lunch drop” idea. We’d hoped this would be a time saver for me. Here’s how the “lunch drop” works......I would drop Ted off at the day’s starting point, we would then calculate how far he would be by lunch time, I would drop off a cooler with his lunch and a lawn chair at that point. Simple, yes, timesaving, we hoped.<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwR4b-I2BSvbjjeEyRTmYgl4W7V1DlkQfl-528UonImHjCREGeB4kaGPfPk2ljSdEk354iMeJns-cO8t9h0MTy-zoRYg4_t77NX1b4f23qU2F5Ez500YGD7XbFCaFtuCl8mEgP5zblBS0/s1600/Day+16+012.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-size:78%;">The horse heads for the barn, Ted enroute to Redmond</span></em> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480556491211427138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx4r6fkBJZMoVQxspsJAAjkYIlZm_GW83LRcm5w_RfYrDC9EoN-iDtoAtA91dVXR2BDZu97XWHGWntFImQ0-6zRwbYRnq0pEFnK5vDpa6-qWypMwQ4bxyRG77t1y4N4sVCaz7DqpeRoH0/s200/Sisters+1.JPG" border="0" /></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">This was the day that I personallly felt like “a horse headed for the barn”. You see, we were now in central Oregon, we were home! For the next six nights I would sleep in my on bed. It would be wonderful. So after our first “lunch drop” I was gone. Just like that horse headed for the barn.<br /><br />At 3:00 P.M. I picked Ted up. He was almost to Redmond. This had been a difficult day. He was tired, his feet were swollen. No mountain passes to climb, but nothing had been easy. I’m sure the effort that it took to climb the passes earlier this week had caught up with him. So when I picked Ted up that afternoon, he too was like a “horse headed for the barn”. Take me home was his urgent request. That night he slept over 10 hours. But the next day he was up, ready to go again for <span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Day 12 </strong></span>of the Walk Across Oregon.</span> </p>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-20230257399752315662010-06-07T16:43:00.000-07:002010-06-08T14:43:03.862-07:00Central Oregon Margaritaville<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQQjzZ_CqBWcHnzk7-ubIFrhb01nnjPs2zzK-VjO1EftBfE1v-a_089lfD6lQ3YyHQZGEU5QhnsvwITxG0PJrJ7VlTKNG4IG8lLqNLEa57SBBqRHWjmSZTx0DrFw72R4Qok1oYM1sXhMI/s1600/Wanda+5.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480518946678621698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 246px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQQjzZ_CqBWcHnzk7-ubIFrhb01nnjPs2zzK-VjO1EftBfE1v-a_089lfD6lQ3YyHQZGEU5QhnsvwITxG0PJrJ7VlTKNG4IG8lLqNLEa57SBBqRHWjmSZTx0DrFw72R4Qok1oYM1sXhMI/s320/Wanda+5.JPG" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Cheeers! Here's to new friendships!</span></em><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">When one thinks of Central Oregon one doesn’t usually think of it as Margaritaville, but I certainly enjoyed a good one today with our new friend Wanda Sobiegraj.<br /><br />Ted met Wanda on the road to Sisters on <span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong>Day 10,</strong></span> and if her name sounds familiar, it’s because she’s Ange’s Sister. Wanda recently moved to Bend from Detroit where she worked for many years. Her hobbies include hiking and snowshoeing and we certainly think she has landed in the right place!</span><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Sharing the road with cyclists on Day 10</span></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifF1BqJkEuwn7yto64fzxh3sHSIZoNfQtTKAK43QNm06TMBXHv_P9o2zm_DSQBCP9ztmktJ6XdB_FXnd8gTxMXJYbC3AelzYmSVnUOYPamKkEAjd_TJjOAiKuFDVRo1S8Xq0H3Zhjvr5U/s1600/Wanda+1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480516056455508370" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifF1BqJkEuwn7yto64fzxh3sHSIZoNfQtTKAK43QNm06TMBXHv_P9o2zm_DSQBCP9ztmktJ6XdB_FXnd8gTxMXJYbC3AelzYmSVnUOYPamKkEAjd_TJjOAiKuFDVRo1S8Xq0H3Zhjvr5U/s200/Wanda+1.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Ted and Wanda’s walk took them through the great ponderosa pine forests outside of Sisters. And although Wanda swears she couldn’t have walked this far, we clocked her section of the day’s journey at 9.5 miles. A lunch break brought us into Sisters where we enjoyed a great lunch at El Rancho Grande, which is my kind of restaurant. When Wanda and I said we really preferred that our enchiladas be made with corn tortillas instead of flour, their answer, “No problem.” And though we limited ourselves to one margarita because, after all, we were walking/driving the WOA Sag Wagon that day, I’ll be back for another, one of these days.<br /></span><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Beatuiful ponderosa pine bark</span></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Q2aqSgo0j240OqHSFX-QxXBrLipkkMDl6wUvhPZaS2BVm1paE2aG-VrbFrikIxI-0xS87bK8Fdcozvpc3mUCVHqTZmhrUR8HH6uw-rSCwsJbTN-nnqeGgKN6taVV6ls2Omb_ca0V3pQ/s1600/South+Samtiam+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480515087049839778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Q2aqSgo0j240OqHSFX-QxXBrLipkkMDl6wUvhPZaS2BVm1paE2aG-VrbFrikIxI-0xS87bK8Fdcozvpc3mUCVHqTZmhrUR8HH6uw-rSCwsJbTN-nnqeGgKN6taVV6ls2Omb_ca0V3pQ/s200/South+Samtiam+001.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">It was in this area that I first fell in love with central Oregon, when Ted brought me here over 15 years ago. The majestic, proud, ponderosa’s still fascinate me with their beautiful, rust colored bark. I love the dry climate, the bright blue skies and the wonderful smells that arise from the forest floor. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">After placing the WAO rock at the end of the day, we retreated to the Black Butte Resort in Camp Sherman, which is nestled deep in the ponderosa pines. While Ted rested I took a short hike to the head of the Metolius River. The Metolius has been described as a “magical river” as it emerges a fully grown, spring fed river from the base of Black Butte. My day ended with this beautiful sight. A great day, a new friend, a good night’s rest. What more could you ask.<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTA21bUEZRYP0XoGybsuHR9tncgdPw_cQI5guVFaQ_t2tnxV_XqjUYOtFs4_O_hnERMyn8IRh11RSjdSUkTMsv92JhzjDLjC1Yv-iIEAOK_ZDHrzEZBakjBjx5gl5mlagBNvHLt-e5-6M/s1600/Wanda+6.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480511649027614770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTA21bUEZRYP0XoGybsuHR9tncgdPw_cQI5guVFaQ_t2tnxV_XqjUYOtFs4_O_hnERMyn8IRh11RSjdSUkTMsv92JhzjDLjC1Yv-iIEAOK_ZDHrzEZBakjBjx5gl5mlagBNvHLt-e5-6M/s320/Wanda+6.JPG" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> Ted and Wanda in Sisters</span></em> </div></div></div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-36743111351692286292010-06-06T15:57:00.000-07:002010-06-08T09:41:19.001-07:00Takin' a Break at Clear Lake<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYJll1lh62Eg2nIFacrlqmm7eeRvcjBnzhqenoakdnLY3ms-qA3RRaCKKGfmgfZd_kqPJmWGdNyiV8DT6GPS6ccsn46Ul8Vt-LMciEKzVz7enCGEBFntAqS8zuFxqTksYz8mS_9yrw6TY/s1600/Day+9+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479804051309211250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYJll1lh62Eg2nIFacrlqmm7eeRvcjBnzhqenoakdnLY3ms-qA3RRaCKKGfmgfZd_kqPJmWGdNyiV8DT6GPS6ccsn46Ul8Vt-LMciEKzVz7enCGEBFntAqS8zuFxqTksYz8mS_9yrw6TY/s320/Day+9+001.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Clear Lake through the trees</span></em><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Ted’s day, on <span style="color:#336666;"><strong>Day 9</strong></span>, began with a nice long descent as he came down off of Tombstone Pass. But when you’re in the Cascades, what goes down will then again go up again. His afternoon would be spent climbing the Santiam Pass. But before that we decided to take a break at Clear Lake.<br /><br />Clear Lake is a special place that holds many memories for us both. It was at Clear Lake that Ted was first allowed to camp alone with a buddy during his high school years. Clear Lake is where I first camped with Ted back when he and I were dating. On this trip I met Ted’s sister Patty and my soon to be nephews and niece Jason, Jeff, and Heather. If I remember correctly they were six, seven and eight at the time. Michael, the youngest, was a toddler and had to stay at home with his grandmother.</span></div><div align="left"><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Beautiful Clear Lake<br /></div></span></em><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhXw0he-9M-YpIdn2KY-UZYWZN3C0JV9-HdI1M4Gmlh63YYCY1J6rFEGHKAxaV0UmqInWRg1tCqtODx5_bgupQAk95Nu8LwOLv87fkS8nq6YP4uL9Q9TT1z9KwV7kMt7R4dru2xX_NNk/s1600/South+Samtiam+017.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479803130414178258" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhXw0he-9M-YpIdn2KY-UZYWZN3C0JV9-HdI1M4Gmlh63YYCY1J6rFEGHKAxaV0UmqInWRg1tCqtODx5_bgupQAk95Nu8LwOLv87fkS8nq6YP4uL9Q9TT1z9KwV7kMt7R4dru2xX_NNk/s200/South+Samtiam+017.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">The lake was beautiful with pristine, clear water. We spent lots of time rowing the kids around the lake. If I remember correctly, Ted was a bit disappointed with the weather and that someone stole our wine, which we had cooling in the lake. But other than that, it was a good trip. One memory that stands out in my mind is of the little guys chopping wood. I held my breath every time they swung the axe. I guess Patty and Ted knew better than me, that this was an age-appropriate activity for them and they were proud that they could help prepare our fire by chopping the wood.<br /></span><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Today they are all grown up and are wonderful young adults. When I ask them if they remember our trip to Clear Lake their memories of it are vague at best. And while they may not remember this trip so well, what we have with them, instead of specific early memories, is a special relationship formed from the culmination of all the times we have spent together. And to me this is priceless. Jason will join his uncle for the last two days of the WAO, Jeff will visit in August, Heather, along with her husband Ben and new baby Isabel, have asked us to visit Kiev where they are now stationed, and Michael has been a great supporter of the WAO since its inception. </span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Ted greats the gentlemen that offered him a ride the day before </span></em></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZQGSmIXYiakpXUSuIN7oojQoB4pQRWMMlSSsKwX-qkdGC8NKsT8aQea3x-NApzMzhneflaX7AFmH2wfy4xZeX_PUKZQGiDGnmN0V9ZgeeWypvsresT4L8fBXm7pXL5KmH7UVltdgBLE/s1600/South+Samtiam+013.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479799770514907858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZQGSmIXYiakpXUSuIN7oojQoB4pQRWMMlSSsKwX-qkdGC8NKsT8aQea3x-NApzMzhneflaX7AFmH2wfy4xZeX_PUKZQGiDGnmN0V9ZgeeWypvsresT4L8fBXm7pXL5KmH7UVltdgBLE/s200/South+Samtiam+013.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I have since returned to Clear Lake for more leisurely visits. I have hiked its perimeter, explored the lave flows that come down to its western shores, and shown its beauty to many of my friends. And on this day, Ted and I took a break at Clear Lake and enjoyed a great lunch at the seasonal cafe. And if you like homemade pie well this is the place. </span></div><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p></p><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">This gave Ted the energy he would need that afternoon as he walked up and over the Santiam Pass. With the intersection of Hwy 22 and Hwy 126, Hwy 20 became a much busier road. And Ted was facing the oncoming traffic coming out of the Bend/Sisters area. He was climbing, the road was curvy, and he didn’t have much shoulder to work with. As WAO Sag Wagon driver, with the exception of Day 2, the construction day, this was my most anxious time. Even though I spent some time hiking around Suttle Lake that afternoon, I couldn’t really relax. And it goes without saying that I was glad to pull him off that mountain that afternoon soon after he was on the downside of the Santiam Pass. <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#006600;"><em><strong>And until we meet again, May God hold you in the palm of His hand.</strong></em></span></span></div><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHKzhONMiVw_wv7SAYWbUhFhxhgupVhUIHWkgExVkblUg-YYxO0y4XhbrJeAVixraIn6bYf6MpXlpSHqXN8TTXGYmQX8wh5gNxrfPpzc9TRO2xr_q4qADo_QV6NUFyEzmRblhqtuYg1o/s1600/Mt+Washington+2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479798893168862594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHKzhONMiVw_wv7SAYWbUhFhxhgupVhUIHWkgExVkblUg-YYxO0y4XhbrJeAVixraIn6bYf6MpXlpSHqXN8TTXGYmQX8wh5gNxrfPpzc9TRO2xr_q4qADo_QV6NUFyEzmRblhqtuYg1o/s320/Mt+Washington+2.JPG" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Ted with Mt. Washington in the background after crossing the Santiam Pass</span></em></p>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-39352668988341747212010-06-06T12:05:00.001-07:002010-06-07T20:50:48.407-07:00Our Backyard, the South Santiam<div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhTrCUSLEo0zcLV6goxIy0nUEjGy7fQrvfGb6qGm1uhkPzP-DCEZ5t0EjUeR1V3BUiUi629RnQrCF-fKaymXKwgBy_X0eWmyJ1Idop-upshubF5NUZLdTFq-0hLGXVgIFOQo8ZGmazhJg/s1600/Day+8+345.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479742715068042226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhTrCUSLEo0zcLV6goxIy0nUEjGy7fQrvfGb6qGm1uhkPzP-DCEZ5t0EjUeR1V3BUiUi629RnQrCF-fKaymXKwgBy_X0eWmyJ1Idop-upshubF5NUZLdTFq-0hLGXVgIFOQo8ZGmazhJg/s320/Day+8+345.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> Our backyard, the South Santiam</span></em><br /></div><div align="left"><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Ted at the cottages after a long day </span></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCIbI7bqRZzNvavALcoFMCudJFAUHR1gHoeEtPqqIA5p1_N5ijmOd3m4Oz7lYBtN9hI2D13Y2hyphenhyphenrnMBwSSeCr8q39NnuCHYtVGQ3s6GejMQrvQ4AYG7WN3ep9KTQD79T6uYG0jSYy20Y4/s1600/Day+8+349.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479741084740407522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCIbI7bqRZzNvavALcoFMCudJFAUHR1gHoeEtPqqIA5p1_N5ijmOd3m4Oz7lYBtN9hI2D13Y2hyphenhyphenrnMBwSSeCr8q39NnuCHYtVGQ3s6GejMQrvQ4AYG7WN3ep9KTQD79T6uYG0jSYy20Y4/s200/Day+8+349.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Back in the winter when we were scouting a bit of the route, we became a bit perplexed. Where would we stay between Sweet Home and Camp Sherman, a distance of over 50 miles? There are no towns, only the tiny village of Cascadia. About that time we looked up and saw a sign for South Santiam Cottages. Ted put on the brakes, whipped the car around and we stopped to take a look. When we saw the cottages, we knew they would be perfect. A small kitchenette, Wi-Fi, but the best thing, your backyard was the South Santiam River. Just beyond the balcony was this magnificent river, flowing past you as it makes its way to the Willamette. </span><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Even the WAO Sag Wagon takes a break!</span></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0DdMvCouqHxpbnNb66Mo_xX31dnsioy5YCSA02-OA-sRjbk5eq9mJc4RlhsK8Jl7eylts7bNe0QaVYVjXXEPCyyLXa9ivgBZ85zdILXSBDUrI0jvbq6F8PvrMu51UuNxNEt320Gq2clw/s1600/South+Samtiam+005.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479740648291530722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0DdMvCouqHxpbnNb66Mo_xX31dnsioy5YCSA02-OA-sRjbk5eq9mJc4RlhsK8Jl7eylts7bNe0QaVYVjXXEPCyyLXa9ivgBZ85zdILXSBDUrI0jvbq6F8PvrMu51UuNxNEt320Gq2clw/s200/South+Samtiam+005.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">The cottages provided just the reprieve we needed. I have described myself as the WAO Sag Wagon driver but another description that is certainly applicable is “porter”. Packing up the car, driving to the next location, and unloading. So for three days, <span style="color:#660000;"><strong>Days 7, 8, and 9</strong></span>, this description didn’t fit. Yahoo for a reprieve at the South Santiam Cottages and a big thanks to our hosts, Sam and Claire Henthorne.</span><br /></div><div align="center"><br /><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">A beautiful covered bridge near the cottages</span></em></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK3p-SqqCED5KwTlLC2olBSqoNxRVROOpA1p-X1Sb50yOTEfBf9OJkYablUpK7yKI07p-hWh9iMQYKA0asPBYT8_cHC1NC8Y0QcljpJl6OhE7hU42oiIoxot8ocgtfmDAh8TiHayJRldw/s1600/South+Samtiam+007.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479740100105462594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK3p-SqqCED5KwTlLC2olBSqoNxRVROOpA1p-X1Sb50yOTEfBf9OJkYablUpK7yKI07p-hWh9iMQYKA0asPBYT8_cHC1NC8Y0QcljpJl6OhE7hU42oiIoxot8ocgtfmDAh8TiHayJRldw/s320/South+Samtiam+007.jpg" border="0" /></a>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-77844115372446235902010-06-03T10:35:00.001-07:002010-06-05T21:50:49.747-07:00The Luck of the Irish<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCaJ4aTphUTtJzX2KwAhDkVKJGTVOHQObWsoE8Ef7PSZGTFRJS_iEeV-p5tb-kuG4GDhi8XcgIeK-5d6sV30a47gjr8m8nkN2Lpgk7gsD1dHloi6NNFQGQaBjsQnbaLHr2g3jnpqCAr38/s1600/Day+8+393.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478614816276973170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCaJ4aTphUTtJzX2KwAhDkVKJGTVOHQObWsoE8Ef7PSZGTFRJS_iEeV-p5tb-kuG4GDhi8XcgIeK-5d6sV30a47gjr8m8nkN2Lpgk7gsD1dHloi6NNFQGQaBjsQnbaLHr2g3jnpqCAr38/s320/Day+8+393.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#000000;"></span></span></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#000000;"></span></span></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#000000;">On</span><strong> Day 8, </strong><span style="color:#000000;">while taking a side hike on Rooster Rock Trail, I discovered a most amazing sight. As the trail curved, just around the bend was a bed of clover by a crystal clear mountain stream. It was so beautiful, so green, so intense. What to do, should I continue the hike or stop and look for that elusive four-leaf clover, the symbol of good luck? Well, I figured this Irish girl had been very lucky already just seeing this beautiful sight and who knows what might lie ahead just around the next bend. With limited time, I trekked on a bit further curious as to what I would see before turning back to pick up Ted. And I knew the luck of the Irish was with us both, as at about the same moment I had spotted the clover he was crossing Tombstone Pass. And I thought of this <strong><span style="color:#009900;">Irish Blessing</span></strong> so appropriate for Ted everyday of his journey on his Walk Across Oregon:</span></span></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#009900;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><strong>May the road rise up to meet you.</strong></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><strong>May the wind always be at your back.</strong></span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><strong>May the sun shine warm upon your face, </strong></span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><strong>and rains fall soft upon your fields.</strong></span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><strong>And until we meet again,</strong></span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><strong>May God hold you in the palm of His hand.</strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">The sight that awaited me just around the bend</span></em><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7m7OBSewEi49BQ-ZQG1gI1osN6fwtkO_whzyU2S5Pw5X4DbRG4hKu-Rt4XDra-s4zd0hOLoMnI4OHHUvMxqDx0dIgSeGL5gfZASr4AtrcrEsXsJNDf8KV9PYO9OE_ZsXUe_U3b8UrQKQ/s1600/Day+8+395.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478608542438885426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7m7OBSewEi49BQ-ZQG1gI1osN6fwtkO_whzyU2S5Pw5X4DbRG4hKu-Rt4XDra-s4zd0hOLoMnI4OHHUvMxqDx0dIgSeGL5gfZASr4AtrcrEsXsJNDf8KV9PYO9OE_ZsXUe_U3b8UrQKQ/s320/Day+8+395.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> </span></em><br /></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">A bed of clover</span></em><br /></div><div align="center"><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRWwap0O44gyQ3fKOroXQUtQ2TaptngLr0oZ7KQTRS2Q_nJESYy33KZosJrTZvKDcOjrlVL11UxI36sfBGRkNTQpc-NzipNlr5Y50xi-cK1xDuoVAY0HlEvSa72fICTFhtTlBNxJsECHQ/s1600/Day+8+392.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478607674655249714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRWwap0O44gyQ3fKOroXQUtQ2TaptngLr0oZ7KQTRS2Q_nJESYy33KZosJrTZvKDcOjrlVL11UxI36sfBGRkNTQpc-NzipNlr5Y50xi-cK1xDuoVAY0HlEvSa72fICTFhtTlBNxJsECHQ/s320/Day+8+392.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">A clear mountain stream<br /></span></em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZVPBYICnHvc2SfJlWMULJB3LR-uMnJimV9Pv6K2JreJq_fm6Y8SClQ6ryCEDald7e25nd04q5Lo1rqAtmGC8n4xGGfM0FFVtRRbyFW_ioCRfx5Jj4i_-9rlu0aoQYuUS3O8Uf_RyBzA/s1600/Day+8+397.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478606697241235890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZVPBYICnHvc2SfJlWMULJB3LR-uMnJimV9Pv6K2JreJq_fm6Y8SClQ6ryCEDald7e25nd04q5Lo1rqAtmGC8n4xGGfM0FFVtRRbyFW_ioCRfx5Jj4i_-9rlu0aoQYuUS3O8Uf_RyBzA/s320/Day+8+397.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div></div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-31796537995347960892010-05-27T22:40:00.000-07:002010-05-28T09:47:39.650-07:00A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW23-g8vQh3SEej2No45eU9rdjvmkiIF8srgsud2pMeGygYqpEua_6RNe1nG0flEYSRJt1xVvjZft6T1FetqA6Gm0Wkso3sCIr-d-KZLZYkBsS4A7vHA0RRytW8ef0Pz8BMr76LRbl_2I/s1600/Day+8+410.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476201373309698530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW23-g8vQh3SEej2No45eU9rdjvmkiIF8srgsud2pMeGygYqpEua_6RNe1nG0flEYSRJt1xVvjZft6T1FetqA6Gm0Wkso3sCIr-d-KZLZYkBsS4A7vHA0RRytW8ef0Pz8BMr76LRbl_2I/s320/Day+8+410.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> Ted at the summit of Tombstone Pass</span></em><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLc3UWfEFsv9NVN-wC69PtVZb8bDU1jvBHocAoLdj05j2F-Nv2nf1zcsE-ujvQrI_L1Zg6eEV_6yv0DzmN9FJeajXLuObetI081-Xg0ZdFpVSRD0LR8M3bQ4E92igOpE9KqioR79odNI8/s1600/Day+8+361.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476200750884021010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLc3UWfEFsv9NVN-wC69PtVZb8bDU1jvBHocAoLdj05j2F-Nv2nf1zcsE-ujvQrI_L1Zg6eEV_6yv0DzmN9FJeajXLuObetI081-Xg0ZdFpVSRD0LR8M3bQ4E92igOpE9KqioR79odNI8/s200/Day+8+361.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong><span style="color:#003300;">Day 8</span></strong> for Ted was, for the most part, an uphill climb and the highlight of his day was summiting Tombstone Pass at 4,235 feet at 1:45 in the afternoon. Then a treat, the rest of the day was downhill. I felt the desire to experience the beauty of the area in a more intense way, not just from behind the wheel of the car. With many trails in the area, I did several side hikes as Ted made his way up and over Tombstone Pass.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQCHS9dL-_FFh7tpzkblwRyCBI7QIVqyUMcy6HbavKPjFsoI_3QV6goMEWni3djN4srNZqRDlqydVMC9CU21VfvMM2OWYjIiVxTcTsekkSyGlvnruOR5gsujdPB62O3JPr6HzrVVYH_-U/s1600/Day+8+362.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476199303448788994" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQCHS9dL-_FFh7tpzkblwRyCBI7QIVqyUMcy6HbavKPjFsoI_3QV6goMEWni3djN4srNZqRDlqydVMC9CU21VfvMM2OWYjIiVxTcTsekkSyGlvnruOR5gsujdPB62O3JPr6HzrVVYH_-U/s200/Day+8+362.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Words are inadequate to describe the beauty that we saw that day, both in our own ways. The intensity of the green, the clearness of the streams, the warmth and the coolness of the air that hit you almost simultaneously, the clean fresh smells, almost sensory overload. Instead I choose to let my pictures do the talking. As you scroll below, I hope you enjoy the beauty of the South Santiam and our Willamette National Forest.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0Yfdi3qWa3iUBlzb-GSg662vfjvSn2JrhQLXTF-_fSrfIT92BjwA2582Mza4OGPMU2yIJ4P86asFF40D-ZSx5Ir11eYoC6MRY81UveDVM8t_q-Cv3TxKVxuX8r0dNov1tZPJPlKEtxI/s1600/Day+8+362.jpg"></a><br /><br /><div><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFslqgJxOV2ps9e8ppnwsN1tProN-Tg8LlCFyqOjlzqizeiO98UnvaUYXC3wqS7_1bItGy5kDdYJSXfNQMZky9LCAsANZIql0W7q5brTn0k0UWUIVQFFx4ql6O7Da5ytMv87ZV3rm1Lfo/s1600/Day+8+359.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476197201347199522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFslqgJxOV2ps9e8ppnwsN1tProN-Tg8LlCFyqOjlzqizeiO98UnvaUYXC3wqS7_1bItGy5kDdYJSXfNQMZky9LCAsANZIql0W7q5brTn0k0UWUIVQFFx4ql6O7Da5ytMv87ZV3rm1Lfo/s320/Day+8+359.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqSkzzR3DgTHNcwDmulsi8I7-RruuGth6rOyiuvpRBnzaRttxU6KiVpKuB8yRgi-H5MOFciETwK4rwZbgVtzIH1sdBd8BwQv9co7hpnxGXrFlQZ5rnzYWSlyLYvYm9yK7U5WyyDV5pnu0/s1600/Day+8+358.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476196778899088722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqSkzzR3DgTHNcwDmulsi8I7-RruuGth6rOyiuvpRBnzaRttxU6KiVpKuB8yRgi-H5MOFciETwK4rwZbgVtzIH1sdBd8BwQv9co7hpnxGXrFlQZ5rnzYWSlyLYvYm9yK7U5WyyDV5pnu0/s320/Day+8+358.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGbDUfg7H7zJrIBSsEdKVycUkw5oq6kFN8kPvA7UCxnL9-dn-KyjEhyzHwdzc-AIY8cb0FSYEBW6ZO8pGx5IZyYywdQ9kOHDABjb6uAvperu1_8sSh_5MckOKHB_ji8cVYqRZZFwEkIE/s1600/Day+8+372.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476195886776005874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGbDUfg7H7zJrIBSsEdKVycUkw5oq6kFN8kPvA7UCxnL9-dn-KyjEhyzHwdzc-AIY8cb0FSYEBW6ZO8pGx5IZyYywdQ9kOHDABjb6uAvperu1_8sSh_5MckOKHB_ji8cVYqRZZFwEkIE/s320/Day+8+372.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmNTyaFghXzxkjrhWOgmMY_HDr67jb8vf8scsH4nkSevyKv7B2Q_V0qKAh76QWmHQmJ1JHMnPqxuOu0JV8n-HojdEbhp1NxS3O7hpU3inwKdlr43sEHEyMn4waLqPFGPIyQdmuDQKPco/s1600/Day+8+377.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476195089929554706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmNTyaFghXzxkjrhWOgmMY_HDr67jb8vf8scsH4nkSevyKv7B2Q_V0qKAh76QWmHQmJ1JHMnPqxuOu0JV8n-HojdEbhp1NxS3O7hpU3inwKdlr43sEHEyMn4waLqPFGPIyQdmuDQKPco/s320/Day+8+377.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrffG0J1Y_n15EdAAee7NdejwroTgSD28d_Lu_w2x3imhwEfsL-ItL15k8Y98ZG2d4YCDN3e6N7WJjCO6enfnYM_H2UC-JubbxceY6xDPYFXPPiPwvIawpImkVhreLIL-OQpP8966mOHQ/s1600/Day+8+379.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476194617259386418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrffG0J1Y_n15EdAAee7NdejwroTgSD28d_Lu_w2x3imhwEfsL-ItL15k8Y98ZG2d4YCDN3e6N7WJjCO6enfnYM_H2UC-JubbxceY6xDPYFXPPiPwvIawpImkVhreLIL-OQpP8966mOHQ/s320/Day+8+379.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMQr9be_7QVYJCPW4J0zjrvsnpzDY4SY-4xkdsgVdOMV-9-4IIClTtO6SvFoOUsO1J4eP3orFgJMNYTAph5cexRXO8_KmJ-w9IKIM0UqrfZf-76iwX7Kx2u85eV9dj3UXWF7fyoIspDi0/s1600/Day+8+384.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476194104063125474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMQr9be_7QVYJCPW4J0zjrvsnpzDY4SY-4xkdsgVdOMV-9-4IIClTtO6SvFoOUsO1J4eP3orFgJMNYTAph5cexRXO8_KmJ-w9IKIM0UqrfZf-76iwX7Kx2u85eV9dj3UXWF7fyoIspDi0/s320/Day+8+384.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOC-xPZLtcISHh1kYkZwpv_APDsoZAt6dF5N94sAVe08nUvibpBDyUS2evUMkCr0n73Zg1mGW9rJ8FSqcqZkQbyCjhAmP6_x9h0SWUjZ_P4V1PDKrcpmV8W4NJPXgZAxmObBGcMGnMpnc/s1600/Day+8+380.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476193302099366706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOC-xPZLtcISHh1kYkZwpv_APDsoZAt6dF5N94sAVe08nUvibpBDyUS2evUMkCr0n73Zg1mGW9rJ8FSqcqZkQbyCjhAmP6_x9h0SWUjZ_P4V1PDKrcpmV8W4NJPXgZAxmObBGcMGnMpnc/s320/Day+8+380.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR5wB6pR7AGdJf8rUY_7ef9W7DnRvFjN_Vq7wttGOuVk2ujgJrje7rp0zSPAVavKZg8rduTgo7lEkJemYo-BfK5DUgDifakF26n2mK774FzKXPOxqx22itCXoxGrC59noEO4uiQDRso-g/s1600/Day+8+388.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476192801460862050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR5wB6pR7AGdJf8rUY_7ef9W7DnRvFjN_Vq7wttGOuVk2ujgJrje7rp0zSPAVavKZg8rduTgo7lEkJemYo-BfK5DUgDifakF26n2mK774FzKXPOxqx22itCXoxGrC59noEO4uiQDRso-g/s320/Day+8+388.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiUDT2mY0zt2f87vsO466lo1nWK1QbnAgqoKk5tNWhuql4Gxk1goKpOKDEAirnyM6loGM8ukXKfBOvUW-bNnZqait-mP3i8vkXp9JxIKtEuM3rudJQ0xh3xyseIoS0Uz0XwrJYjUZ27Z0/s1600/Day+8+402.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476192345215382754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiUDT2mY0zt2f87vsO466lo1nWK1QbnAgqoKk5tNWhuql4Gxk1goKpOKDEAirnyM6loGM8ukXKfBOvUW-bNnZqait-mP3i8vkXp9JxIKtEuM3rudJQ0xh3xyseIoS0Uz0XwrJYjUZ27Z0/s320/Day+8+402.jpg" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-33278816685341057182010-05-27T17:37:00.000-07:002010-06-05T22:04:53.928-07:00Problem Solving 101<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbPwf8XEQQL1zcQZ5k98B6tfUt3hOYEUcl0qRvThS1pptdqq4dpYpvX1THKt6b3TN1sN39zVZTpYX9U4KPW30k1Kl3uVLa6EENJu3NtBpl7ApPPHggdaOb-PuwOE2kO67xGkck7p0gmIg/s1600/Third++Day+332.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476125338522632962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbPwf8XEQQL1zcQZ5k98B6tfUt3hOYEUcl0qRvThS1pptdqq4dpYpvX1THKt6b3TN1sN39zVZTpYX9U4KPW30k1Kl3uVLa6EENJu3NtBpl7ApPPHggdaOb-PuwOE2kO67xGkck7p0gmIg/s320/Third++Day+332.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Ted and Ange ready to start Day 7</span></em> </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong><span style="color:#006600;">Day 7</span></strong> of the walk brought us back to the Willamette Valley where Ange Sobiegraj once again joined Ted for another day of walking. We met Ange at the Point Restaurant where we had coffee and shared a piece of pie, perfect fuel for walkers and Sag Wagon drivers.<br /><br />Ange and Ted were off. I headed to the South Santiam Cabins, which would be our reprieve for the next three days. I unpacked the car and got things set up. Ted and Agne arrived at the cabins for a break at around 11:00. Ted then remembered something in the car that he wanted to show Ange. I handed him the keys. We enjoyed a treat from the New Morning Bakery in Corvallis that Ange brought and then they were off.<br /><br />About thirty minutes before it was time for me head out to pick up Ange, I realized Ted had the keys, our one and only set of keys. And why, you wonder, would they go on a trip of this magnitude with only one set of keys? About 10 days before our trip we noticed a set was missing. We looked everywhere, in jackets, it golf bags, all to no avail. We kept thinking they would turn up in some strange place, but it didn’t happen. So we left for our trip with only one set of keys in hand.<br /><br />So we had to be very careful with the keys. As driver of the WAO Sag Wagon, I had a system, a certain pocket in a certain vest. But things happened quickly that morning and the keys were "walking” before I realized it.</span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoseE9_18q_6t_A3rjuPN7MqAB_hb2GHr7oczar0_xqm7uhN70_W_WSX3s8aOpvI18xHDfT7qgYqeOe_HvfGCXAlQHsdD6-pXUSpZ_xy9sorsSWGw3MhwzgMTHkPB6DvhCMG-3FNLBMAE/s1600/Third++Day+334.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476123803939412482" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoseE9_18q_6t_A3rjuPN7MqAB_hb2GHr7oczar0_xqm7uhN70_W_WSX3s8aOpvI18xHDfT7qgYqeOe_HvfGCXAlQHsdD6-pXUSpZ_xy9sorsSWGw3MhwzgMTHkPB6DvhCMG-3FNLBMAE/s200/Third++Day+334.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Luckily we were in cell phone range. I called Ted, we decided Ange would head back to the cabins. I expected her there in about 40 minutes. I would take her to her car, then come back to pick up Ted before his interview with Sean Morgan of <em>The New Era</em> back at the cabin. Phew. It was going to be down to the wire now. When he saw that she was about to take off, the last thing Ted said to Ange as she turned to leave was “Ange you don’t have to run.”<br /></span></div><div align="left"></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><div align="left"><br />Before I knew it I heard a car door slam and Ange was back at the cabin. How did she get back so quickly? Did she run all that way? No, she was resourceful. When Ange saw a lady in her yard near Cascadia, Ange asked if she could take her back to the cabin. Certainly, the woman said. It turned out that the lady was 90 and had had surgery the day before. But she was interested in Ted’s walk and glad to help. So Ange’s quick thinking and the kindness of a stranger saved the day.<br /><br />One of the buzz words in education these days is that we want to teach our kids to be “problem solvers”. Well, we had several ways to solve this problem. Option #2 would have been to ask the owner of the cabins to take me to Ted and Angie. Option #3 would have been to wait until Sean arrived and then go to Ted and Ange. He could have interviewed Ted on the road and then I would take Ange to her car.<br /><br />But in the end it was Option #1, Ange’s quick thinking combined with the kindness of a stranger that helped make our problem go away. So here’s to problem solving on the road on <span style="color:#006600;"><strong>Day 7</strong></span> of the Walk Across Oregon.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTeQM_aEVhIWkdaKaeYDM6AToNXaQoZu0FxRgbIwDMKu6uOAKDJuS5cHeCH41voqv1USwW3LWGrmz4DMsD1hHTAgPGkSVxlwVua8ENb8uVBMorIPjnwbOMp5XHjT2penayxYWs-lL3xEE/s1600/Day+8+345.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476115126059693154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTeQM_aEVhIWkdaKaeYDM6AToNXaQoZu0FxRgbIwDMKu6uOAKDJuS5cHeCH41voqv1USwW3LWGrmz4DMsD1hHTAgPGkSVxlwVua8ENb8uVBMorIPjnwbOMp5XHjT2penayxYWs-lL3xEE/s320/Day+8+345.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> The beautiful South Santiam</span></em></div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-27970450727207524592010-05-27T17:29:00.000-07:002010-05-27T23:35:21.519-07:00Resting at 55 M.P.H.<span style="font-size:85%;">After <strong><span style="color:#006600;">Day 6 </span></strong>we returned to Crooked River for two rest days. But for Ted there are never really any days of rest. Early Monday morning he raced to the golf course to play with his senior group, raced home from golf to have an interview with Lars Larson, northwest radio personality, raced to Portland to pick up his mom at the airport, then raced back to Crooked River the next day to go to Lions. And not to worry, all of the racing (resting) was done at 55 m.p.h.!</span>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-73733953760077230412010-05-27T15:40:00.000-07:002010-05-27T23:31:56.788-07:00Oh Happy Day<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzeXvaxNJcNwiLkRdU3GelMsE6njr3NjzIgl_dyzpo0hT0OjIvlY6bqxiXxmwmOezZfuhg2NFKi4o8S12o-KaLDJXqBP0r5KyAIt7ZIiRvPC_eXTNnB2L7kydYr8QxIcWH8VY84kR4Gg/s1600/Third++Day+330.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476097858511383698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzeXvaxNJcNwiLkRdU3GelMsE6njr3NjzIgl_dyzpo0hT0OjIvlY6bqxiXxmwmOezZfuhg2NFKi4o8S12o-KaLDJXqBP0r5KyAIt7ZIiRvPC_eXTNnB2L7kydYr8QxIcWH8VY84kR4Gg/s320/Third++Day+330.jpg" border="0" /></a> <em><span style="font-size:78%;">Ted finishing Day 6 at Foster Reservoir</span></em> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">When Ted set out at 7:30 on the morning of <strong><span style="color:#006600;">Day 6</span></strong>, he indeed thought that it was a happy day. The sky was blue, the temperature mild, the birds were singing. But when he walked into Sweet Home, he momentarily thought his fate was about to change. A policeman pulled over in front of him, parked, and then got out of his car. Ted thought to himself, “Oh no, he’s going to tell me I can’t walk on the highway.” Instead the policeman said, “Hey, saw the newspaper article about you. Great job on your walk and I agree with your cause.”<br /><br />Ted’s gait picked up instantly as he headed to the nearest Thriftway to find a paper. Jennifer Moody’s article was on the front page of the Local Section of the Albany Democrat- Herald, complete with a color picture of Ted and picture of the WAO rock as well. Ted was so excited that he read the article in its entirety right there in the middle of the Thriftway.<br /><br />We enjoyed a great brunch at Lorene’s in Sweet Home. And it was there that I heard muted whispers, “That’s him, that’s the guy that’s walking across Oregon.” Ted’s 15 minutes of fame had begun. Later a bike rider whizzed by Ted as he made his way thought Sweet Home and said, “Saw your article. Way to go.” And finally a young couple stopped and gave Ted two bananas. They had seen him reading the article in the Thriftway. They wished Ted good luck and told him the “bananas will help.”<br /><br />For a small town, Sweet Home is a long town, stretching out for over five miles. Today, most of the stretch was lined with iris, just bursting into bloom. Ted’s walk ended at the beautiful Foster Reservoir, just outside of Sweet Home. Thanks for the great welcome Sweet Home.<br /><br />On this day we thought of our mothers and the depth of a mother’s love. We originally intended to be in Portland with Ted’s mother Barbara. Instead she decided to make the trip to D.C. to meet her brand new great granddaughter, Isobel. We were so pleased she made the trip. Four generations together on Mother’s Day. What could be better? Happy day. Happy Mother’s Day</span></div></div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-3657116958390460632010-05-26T10:55:00.001-07:002010-05-27T23:38:36.770-07:00It's a Take<div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbihZEoFAjeT5SlvYqZCw-rS1VVO9lkEQvZiHJ8lJy6PSs1XkkLjJ_XP904wzNnpwQTBeIjd_8GMK3iFfLtIGbV6dcVeJ_406EnNW6EfhNo62pql5rxGYLj7pJ84MMsWKxO9jheiYY2_s/s1600/Photo+op.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475642638090053298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbihZEoFAjeT5SlvYqZCw-rS1VVO9lkEQvZiHJ8lJy6PSs1XkkLjJ_XP904wzNnpwQTBeIjd_8GMK3iFfLtIGbV6dcVeJ_406EnNW6EfhNo62pql5rxGYLj7pJ84MMsWKxO9jheiYY2_s/s320/Photo+op.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Ted with Jesse and AnneMarie from the Mid-Valley Newspapers</span></em><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Things got exciting mid-afternoon in Lebanon on <strong><span style="color:#006600;">Day 5</span></strong> when Jesse Skoubo and AnneMarie Knepper, staff photographer and week-end reporter for the Mid-Valley Newspapers, arrived on the scene. It was Ted’s first photo shoot. I enjoyed watching a professional photographer in action. Jesse took pictures not only of Ted walking, but of his feet and the WAO rock as well. These pictures were to accompany Jennifer Moody’s interview from the previous day.</span></div><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Photo Shoot in Lebanon<br /></span></em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx4Jw59T2cLx27gVeQ710tqqY2teMxbuUpmZz6EYM19xBMGdOMM4xhOhbm4NiU-JuLVRJz2hxw3CIvqw5N0h0W9KNhPnS2AtJXUqntV-LZBaXWGzaC66w6iO9BueCCkV8JMArBiPt6p3M/s1600/photo+op2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475641662916331586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 298px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx4Jw59T2cLx27gVeQ710tqqY2teMxbuUpmZz6EYM19xBMGdOMM4xhOhbm4NiU-JuLVRJz2hxw3CIvqw5N0h0W9KNhPnS2AtJXUqntV-LZBaXWGzaC66w6iO9BueCCkV8JMArBiPt6p3M/s320/photo+op2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ0B08f2Q_LKubgVx7SauQ_mC-93etrdVDhVhupfMnDOfpR08_5BO7ozjo2OmwA5JH9qmnCMqYHRC86uPHzJHnBYUBMZjgj56KmpmmR16ch10gdABOxZ5pI5QAFcja-L8Y82s5GREk07o/s1600/photo+op+bottom+2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475640154553477042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ0B08f2Q_LKubgVx7SauQ_mC-93etrdVDhVhupfMnDOfpR08_5BO7ozjo2OmwA5JH9qmnCMqYHRC86uPHzJHnBYUBMZjgj56KmpmmR16ch10gdABOxZ5pI5QAFcja-L8Y82s5GREk07o/s320/photo+op+bottom+2.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGOwmc21HKl8-LzXO8N_J4CHA4OkS5iSuBK2_7Hf5QZSQZoa0EphWW1A3rqfmUHTM5c5pb3fZmJTG4bEDbd8NuY9uRT3mzjualrZ2l8KDhYSaFSvlRE4dwBlKb272D_NDLNlCFoxQILUY/s1600/photo+op+Bottom+1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475639222663235874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 264px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGOwmc21HKl8-LzXO8N_J4CHA4OkS5iSuBK2_7Hf5QZSQZoa0EphWW1A3rqfmUHTM5c5pb3fZmJTG4bEDbd8NuY9uRT3mzjualrZ2l8KDhYSaFSvlRE4dwBlKb272D_NDLNlCFoxQILUY/s320/photo+op+Bottom+1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-1016598924880908982010-05-20T21:43:00.001-07:002010-05-27T23:34:20.762-07:00Walk a Mile in My Shoes<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGtzk7I8MJi5lrp803egF9jRhOUnpedoSwOKqKojx3baVCbkl2MQvBDpyG5dtbGV3VPwzo3E4jW3RwpJdVN38T9YgnwkJI1drNUs4PdhFPNF2sJxbmiBTyIdZX7YIz1fhDhewJvE1fIac/s1600/Third++Day+306.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473587631261589506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGtzk7I8MJi5lrp803egF9jRhOUnpedoSwOKqKojx3baVCbkl2MQvBDpyG5dtbGV3VPwzo3E4jW3RwpJdVN38T9YgnwkJI1drNUs4PdhFPNF2sJxbmiBTyIdZX7YIz1fhDhewJvE1fIac/s320/Third++Day+306.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> Ted with Ann on the road to Lebanon</span></em></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Ann and Phyllis waiting to cross </span></em><em><span style="font-size:78%;">the I-5 access road</span></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDEOd3Ra2BqmKxq2Fjhm2iyvFm_TbO6Q1S5PjKz-KMJF9PVV9n5DwyaZWhBsBqlnKf8PQFFdiddxnVT3gDqe0aE5rX_aququAwnUs-X1ZL3912xL2XFHqT_f5bUIntws9W3VKHtBU7GMQ/s1600/Third++Day+305.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473585196419769634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDEOd3Ra2BqmKxq2Fjhm2iyvFm_TbO6Q1S5PjKz-KMJF9PVV9n5DwyaZWhBsBqlnKf8PQFFdiddxnVT3gDqe0aE5rX_aququAwnUs-X1ZL3912xL2XFHqT_f5bUIntws9W3VKHtBU7GMQ/s200/Third++Day+305.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">The next day, <strong><span style="color:#006600;">Day 5</span></strong> of the walk, Ann and I joined Ted at the start. I walked a mile and then turned back to get the WAO Sag Wagon. Ann walked a few miles further with Ted. I wish we could have had a nicer place to start the walk that day. The overpass over I-5 is not my idea of pretty. But once we got over I-5 traffic on Hwy 34 subsided and before us lie the fertile fields of the Willamette Valley.<br /></span><br /></div><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><p><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></p><p></p><div align="left"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpyMdBeYqKl9hFsDwmTWY09p_JMRXM0W_zn4ZV-33svrReK82Ngp61JRCxdlc4-nLKmM4JThaSxiCtNzarRvkk-SIQR5aI9AoKHV131XPay-bfyrjszB4gXLSLIiJ4CmnID0nINZ9zcGM/s1600/Third++Day+309.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473583885126068290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpyMdBeYqKl9hFsDwmTWY09p_JMRXM0W_zn4ZV-33svrReK82Ngp61JRCxdlc4-nLKmM4JThaSxiCtNzarRvkk-SIQR5aI9AoKHV131XPay-bfyrjszB4gXLSLIiJ4CmnID0nINZ9zcGM/s200/Third++Day+309.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">After Ann left, Ted was on his own headed toward Lebanon. Lebanon, a town of around 15,000, is home of the world’s Largest Strawberry Shortcake. The giant shortcake a part of the town’s yearly Strawberry Festival, which began in 1909. Unfortunately we came about a month too early and missed the festival. Lebanon has a nice downtown with many local businesses, which always make me happy.<br /></span><br /></div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Ted ended his day between Lebanon and Sweet Home. We had a great dinner at the Point Restaurant across from the beautiful Foster Reservoir. A great ending to a nice day.</span> </div><div align="left"><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx_qc4Tki20VSTn0KLav-FhIvnEUeoGSQmG-3CnuGHzOjIcXAypKDglby2RmfCNEgAU6Z-ogaOs-D6jASxTZhkHGPRtnnPZw7SlLY80YhzSsXEcVa52fUqqjgvdSXWUGQs3cjai44WmZg/s1600/Third++Day+328.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473580310171649234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx_qc4Tki20VSTn0KLav-FhIvnEUeoGSQmG-3CnuGHzOjIcXAypKDglby2RmfCNEgAU6Z-ogaOs-D6jASxTZhkHGPRtnnPZw7SlLY80YhzSsXEcVa52fUqqjgvdSXWUGQs3cjai44WmZg/s320/Third++Day+328.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> Beautiful Foster Resivour, our dinner view</span></em> </div></div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-88045944513671156582010-05-20T21:07:00.001-07:002010-05-27T23:53:56.066-07:00Mi Casa Su Casa<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFZl26h6n9gY5anJdCNd_HuAoCN3HyyqfDmale31IAZkAJdA20eAmCHWKxkp0qAtFjLn183HR7d9K4ifImkNp0V5RiUxrxravhYUKl_HO_WpJc_3hIZ4kqvwtPoBH1F4Hl0T2ai9RjJqY/s1600/Steve.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473571056634251730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 183px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFZl26h6n9gY5anJdCNd_HuAoCN3HyyqfDmale31IAZkAJdA20eAmCHWKxkp0qAtFjLn183HR7d9K4ifImkNp0V5RiUxrxravhYUKl_HO_WpJc_3hIZ4kqvwtPoBH1F4Hl0T2ai9RjJqY/s320/Steve.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> Phyllis and Ted with Steve at the Albany Country Club</span></em><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Throughout our lives we meet special people. And if we are lucky enough, one day we have the privilege of calling them our friends. This process goes on all our lives, but there is something very special about the friends that we refer to as our “old friends.” Not meaning that they are old, literally, but that we have known them for a very long time. They’ve seen us at our best and our worst, our highest and lowest and accept and love us all the same. Such is the case of Steve and Ann Wulff, college and lifelong friends of Ted’s.<br /><br />After we returned from our honeymoon Ted wanted to go to Albany so I could meet Steve and Ann. On that visit, still being in the honeymoon stage, Ann brought us breakfast in bed, homemade cinnamon rolls. This memory remains like a snapshot in my mind. At the time, Steve and Ann’s children were small. They’re grown now.<br /><br />Colin, the youngest has been a long-time golfing buddy of Ted’s. I remember playing golf with Colin when he was about 10, a redheaded freckle-faced boy already hitting shots quite well at that early age. Another snapshot memory. I asked Ted at what point Colin started beating him. Ted thinks it was during his mid-high school years. Now Colin, a sophomore at the University of Puget Sound, plays on his college’s golf team and Ted has no chance. Still, when he’s home, a golf game with Colin is always top order of the day.<br /><br />Throughout the years Ted has appeared on Steve and Ann’s doorstep, sometimes announced, sometimes not. Steve and Ann love to tell the story of finding Ted asleep, early one morning, on the rugs in their back house. Steve said it almost scared him to death until he realized it was “just Ted”. Ted had rang their doorbell late the night before to no answer, then found his way to their back house which had no bed, only rugs on the floor. And there Ted spent the night. So the phrase, “Mi Casa Su Casa” or “my home is your home too” is certainly apropos.<br /><br />This time our arrival at the end of <strong><span style="color:#006600;">Day 4</span></strong> was announced. But of course, with Ted there is always a surprise. So the day before we rolled into town, Ted called Steve and asked if a reporter from the Albany newspaper could interview him at their home. The answer was of course. “Mi Casa Su Casa”, my friend.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473570291920912834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WVgLEP60zPAxEYVfkBFLdOqhpBuTfjMMNZux2jmmZyDObWH_FBaNZF8xBQNXjyT-Nse1XzYk_PqHsYoB2wRbFG_GHmroWYys7yJKqtSCVrdAnjgwyjbTZCd7iDv5Tpd_HRqr8AkBSP0/s320/Interview.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">With Jennifer Moody of the Albany Democrat-Herald </span><br /></p></em>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-67134018372737186532010-05-14T21:08:00.000-07:002010-05-27T23:51:45.791-07:00An Evening of Reunion(s)<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ssxgMBiLqYW7sY50e3E3CRMdeIpwmntKbs_plFvURFiIAO6Am3N7ftiy7EPC6i0WCRnHK7-3roImVgJ4WN_W2-bAMOlt9O9HdXCB_Strkid1Vb92Qm4mg5yRTIBoA_YjIax0D6rArbg/s1600/P1050565_edited-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471350267313919634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 314px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ssxgMBiLqYW7sY50e3E3CRMdeIpwmntKbs_plFvURFiIAO6Am3N7ftiy7EPC6i0WCRnHK7-3roImVgJ4WN_W2-bAMOlt9O9HdXCB_Strkid1Vb92Qm4mg5yRTIBoA_YjIax0D6rArbg/s320/P1050565_edited-1.jpg" border="0" /></a><em> <span style="font-size:78%;">Bob and Dianna in their beautiful Corvallis home</span></em><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">After the “Beaver Tour” we arrived at the home of Bob and Dianna Nance, where we would spend the evening. Bob and Dianna were friends from Heidelberg, Germany, where we all worked together for the Department of Defense Dependents Schools, Bob at the elementary, Dianna at the District Superintendent’s Office, me at the high school, and Ted at the middle school in the neighboring town. While we did reminisce about our time overseas, more often our conversation turned to the excitement of being home and anticipation of good times in the years to come.</span><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Ted with Squirrel </span></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYE8Rw1X8GdljSen-xn5o2r6zv2uwDFNOtRaDb8yI3Ftzt8kS4uCkFrRGDFmQfp5ccPtldQ_7J33ignTW7PBZSneTk5AkHiIR-BQc3KfvcheiYi5yxOMR8X1dXgP3OsvfhRfkAmRscIYA/s1600/Third++Day+285.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471346590661656386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYE8Rw1X8GdljSen-xn5o2r6zv2uwDFNOtRaDb8yI3Ftzt8kS4uCkFrRGDFmQfp5ccPtldQ_7J33ignTW7PBZSneTk5AkHiIR-BQc3KfvcheiYi5yxOMR8X1dXgP3OsvfhRfkAmRscIYA/s200/Third++Day+285.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">After a shower and rest, Bob and Dianna took us to dinner at Squirrels. We were thrilled when they suggested this restaurant; as a matter of fact we had planned to have lunch there the following day. You see, 30 years ago Ted worked as a bartender at Squirrels. Ted asked if the owner, Greg Little, a.k.a Squirrel, was still there. Bob said yes he was. After ordering drinks Ted said, “I want to go say hello to Squirrel, I wonder if he will remember me?” When Squirrel saw Ted he reached out his hand and said, “How are you Ted?”, as if the years had never passed. </span><br /><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Fueling up at the Nance's</span></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK7Vq-j0haEcIRCFs6JZqJorY-_hlHHVzqwdlLN37LtsEikS_Y4kWnZ2lFIq0bIIYonzwvVmsnk7FZalr8jvdVEW37i-mENQcb8DdAffM9Zum-DNkNbUtdY44ftWhe46O2gOBRp0UkjvM/s1600/P1050568_edited-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471345249976881794" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 126px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK7Vq-j0haEcIRCFs6JZqJorY-_hlHHVzqwdlLN37LtsEikS_Y4kWnZ2lFIq0bIIYonzwvVmsnk7FZalr8jvdVEW37i-mENQcb8DdAffM9Zum-DNkNbUtdY44ftWhe46O2gOBRp0UkjvM/s200/P1050568_edited-1.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">So it was an evening of reunion, one planned and one a surprise. That night I had the best sleep of the trip and awoke totally refreshed. Then next morning Dianna prepared what I describe as a wonderful Oregon breakfast, omelets with fresh herbs from the garden, hazelnut* cinnamon toast, Marion berry scones, lattes and more. We were fueled up and ready to go for <strong><span style="color:#006600;">Day 4</span></strong>. Thanks for your hospitality Bob and Dianna, we had a wonderful time.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">* <em>Oregon is the third largest grower of hazelnuts, behind Turkey and Italy</em></span><em>.</em></span> </div></div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-49361134378095458452010-05-14T20:15:00.000-07:002010-05-27T23:43:47.186-07:00He's a "Beaver Believer"<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9i1ge8pquAgXfRyItsaC5ZJ4XA2INMasa6ZdtcCFjitnCiQrCKDLy_46qQ_wl9hwx3RNkvfkDP8J37kYix_E6J4WRAG4GI7lo1c7I2AcgzekJ8tw-uc0ED6LFzPj8vNILxoERqzetOPE/s1600/Third++Day+283.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471337928588778130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9i1ge8pquAgXfRyItsaC5ZJ4XA2INMasa6ZdtcCFjitnCiQrCKDLy_46qQ_wl9hwx3RNkvfkDP8J37kYix_E6J4WRAG4GI7lo1c7I2AcgzekJ8tw-uc0ED6LFzPj8vNILxoERqzetOPE/s320/Third++Day+283.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> Ted at Oregon State University</span></em><br /><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">After <strong><span style="color:#006600;">Day 3’s</span></strong> walk ended in Philomath, we hopped in the car and headed for Corvallis. As we neared Corvallis, Ted’s excitement became palatable. You see, Corvallis is the home of Oregon State University, Ted’s alma mater. The first thing we had to do, upon arrival, was to head to campus for what I describe as, the “Beaver Tour.” <em>“Now this was my dorm my first year, and here’s where I took math in the old Armory at 7:30 A.M. my freshman year, here’s my fraternity house, and here’s ..…………” </em><br /><br />If it’s any consolation, I’ve done the same to Ted when touring the University of Texas. <em>“Now here’s where I lived my first two years, here’s Darrell K. Royal-Texas Memorial Stadium where I ran 10 laps every night instead of studying, here’s my sorority house, and here’s………………” </em>But now that I think about it, this is my third “Beaver Tour” to Ted’s one and only “Longhorn Tour”. Perhaps a trip to Austin in order.<br /><br />There’s something about a college town, be it Corvallis, Oregon or Austin, Texas, with all the energy and excitement that thousands of college age kids bring. And upon our return, we briefly relive our youth, the fleeting yet formative time that we refer to as the “college years”. Those years, a brief moment, a slight predictor of things to come, we remember, we smile, we move on. </span><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaYlH9HkXFPxYmaz_pMwj8_NYxfziWC_otx2OjEc1pV6jOxD9Y-Xwj2_yaMT8ghIqObuUJtkwKRE3qAUgXEVAbWDjFmYqfJx_qEmN42dXa3ijIH8pdO6HTh4GcCHgD3gik1PIRoOL39i4/s1600/Third++Day+282.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471332888327305522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaYlH9HkXFPxYmaz_pMwj8_NYxfziWC_otx2OjEc1pV6jOxD9Y-Xwj2_yaMT8ghIqObuUJtkwKRE3qAUgXEVAbWDjFmYqfJx_qEmN42dXa3ijIH8pdO6HTh4GcCHgD3gik1PIRoOL39i4/s320/Third++Day+282.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> The house Ted lived in during his latter college years</span></em> </div></div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-46893532906894089722010-05-11T09:22:00.001-07:002010-05-27T23:50:11.762-07:00I Get By With a Little Help from My Friends<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZQWabQpFAqhy1hHSYUkoOHxcLS8qqtKHD8vfyUSBmaJB0PGQQiR4pib7NBMOCc-tQL1jHdwJSP3Js7r8qGKUDKMi2N24Q2PQJ_kIYBfypC1urA9kVXiu0Hvkmx13rENDk9yuYJ4EWE0/s1600/Third++Day+273.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470530310809688226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZQWabQpFAqhy1hHSYUkoOHxcLS8qqtKHD8vfyUSBmaJB0PGQQiR4pib7NBMOCc-tQL1jHdwJSP3Js7r8qGKUDKMi2N24Q2PQJ_kIYBfypC1urA9kVXiu0Hvkmx13rENDk9yuYJ4EWE0/s320/Third++Day+273.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> Ted and Ange on Day 3</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><p><span style="font-size:85%;">The start of <strong>Day 3</strong> was not so great. Every bone in Ted’s body hurt. In addition, he had the misfortune of pulling a calf muscle at the end of Day 2 when he stepped down an incline to take a picture. Doubts had started to creep in and the proverbial question, Why and I doing this?” popped into his mind.<br /><br />But soon his luck would change. Just after mile two, the WAO Sag Wagon pulled off the road and out jumped Ange Sobiegraj. Ange was a college friend of Ted’s who he hadn’t seen in five years. In addition, Ange is an endurance athlete herself with over 21 marathons under her belt. She was just the shot in the arm that Ted needed at this point in the walk.<br /><br />With an understanding that endurance activities become as much mental as they are physical, and at times you just have to work through the pain, Ange gave Ted the encouragement and advice he needed to be able to “keep on keepin’ on”. She walked 14 miles with him that day, he walked 20. And I’m quite sure for Ted, now, there is no turning back.<br /><br />Thanks Ange. It was great meeting you on the road from Burnt Woods on Day 3.<br /><br /><em>“I get by with a little help from my friends<br />I’m gonna try with a little help from my friends<br />With a little help from my friends, with a little help from my friends…”<br /></em></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Written by Lennon and McCartney for their friend Ringo Starr</span></em></span><br /></p><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9y_yGwKqYfGQtAuF1vGFUU4HsZ3rCWe6QXp35j8VoqM1SbuAz2CgV1bpCDnDIvIQ26mD7D-z16T9yJsw-IN0Bx5G15LgKShyphenhyphenWr4_Pz4wi7tyUDhULuL1DuxkExK8yj1e32BBlVlDcS-c/s1600/Third++Day+269.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470529534476294626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9y_yGwKqYfGQtAuF1vGFUU4HsZ3rCWe6QXp35j8VoqM1SbuAz2CgV1bpCDnDIvIQ26mD7D-z16T9yJsw-IN0Bx5G15LgKShyphenhyphenWr4_Pz4wi7tyUDhULuL1DuxkExK8yj1e32BBlVlDcS-c/s320/Third++Day+269.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> Approaching Blodgett</span><br /></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZIPHZiiA8EtaWeG3edCdHHKJ2vRcuzfIS_Ea0qE_YTaIF8xpxKnWVYyBZQM_pZ4udR7tjc0OH0oFF5xKYmigB_mvpvDXTte6Xom2iRwikUqjgrg37k5nsgHn-N6Yt8Ll8HSFbI0vcYg/s1600/Third++Day+276.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470528743966983810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZIPHZiiA8EtaWeG3edCdHHKJ2vRcuzfIS_Ea0qE_YTaIF8xpxKnWVYyBZQM_pZ4udR7tjc0OH0oFF5xKYmigB_mvpvDXTte6Xom2iRwikUqjgrg37k5nsgHn-N6Yt8Ll8HSFbI0vcYg/s320/Third++Day+276.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;">At the Blodgett Country Store</span><br /></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8skCnQtGMZH0THpE7pC4821SNiF-GRtC_A9A53BwkBWlPoWUs4oJRfJ-Hdfr-yckj_6mqp3dcnV04f6Fjia3-q-KzF1Twu_3dzGQRMf2tTzj19HbmzExjgKtBZ329sM5r4GD5XHbUqR0/s1600/Third++Day+278.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470526075959629842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8skCnQtGMZH0THpE7pC4821SNiF-GRtC_A9A53BwkBWlPoWUs4oJRfJ-Hdfr-yckj_6mqp3dcnV04f6Fjia3-q-KzF1Twu_3dzGQRMf2tTzj19HbmzExjgKtBZ329sM5r4GD5XHbUqR0/s320/Third++Day+278.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Mid-way on Day 3</span></em><br /></div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-69716516362453980932010-05-10T20:40:00.000-07:002010-05-10T21:04:47.929-07:00Holy Toledo<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKr-E2eC9BWLbENYKCQpsIr7KfODAKmn-5kOGGbjP_hg4-_NSivzZrsJm-4JhY-5iaaPvDoanioYdnQVExVNcrzHTekbi0d8chAYpGEYqFOt_zr9p3RR7yTqnd5pjI01N6LHiYECpRl60/s1600/First+Day+016.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469853445741633794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKr-E2eC9BWLbENYKCQpsIr7KfODAKmn-5kOGGbjP_hg4-_NSivzZrsJm-4JhY-5iaaPvDoanioYdnQVExVNcrzHTekbi0d8chAYpGEYqFOt_zr9p3RR7yTqnd5pjI01N6LHiYECpRl60/s320/First+Day+016.jpg" border="0" /></a> <em><span style="font-size:78%;">Downtown Toledo</span></em></div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Our Base Camp for the first and second evening of the walk was the Yaquina Bay Hotel in Toledo. The hotel was built in 1920 and is very quaint. A beautiful old piano graces the lobby. We received a warm reception by the hotel managers, Kenneth and Polly Erickson, who couldn’t have been more accommodating.<br /><br />Just seven miles from Newport, Toledo is six degrees warmer, on the average, and has a lot less fog. Toledo has a vibrant main street and a thriving art community. During World War I the U.S. Army Signal Corps built a huge mill to produce spruce lumber for airplane construction. Today Toledo is home to the Georgia-Pacific Pulp and Paper Mill.<br /><br />One evening we found ourselves at Pig Feathers BBQ, where I truly thought we found the best barbecue west of the Mississippi. The ribs were to die for. Then I found out that Proprietor, Chief Cook and Bottle Washer, Stu Miller is a former Oregon State Grand Champion of Barbecue. That may explain why the barbecue is so good. His wife Becky is a member of the local art community. You can see her work at Pig Feathers. The next morning we fueled up with a great breakfast at the Timbers Restaurant. You will not lack for a good meal while in Toledo.<br /><br />Thanks for the warm welcome Toledo. There’s something about a small town, be it Wellington, Texas (my hometown) or Toledo, Oregon. No one’s a stranger in a small town. Toledo, off the beaten path, and well worth the visit.<br /></span>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-62142690628801778382010-05-10T18:14:00.000-07:002010-05-27T23:49:05.106-07:00Working a Split Shift<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinsfcRkJCR_KVunPtxEWvquPdwa1EVFdS_K7h6NP9rPQI8dKxTpaT6-J2-XL_w1eQKJRMNDvQt8uNbWbNydRbDajkyi_xdt6_kkdy3Vf7-smTEO-nOfDHTbI13Gn1SMZy2x24LFbT9pjU/s1600/Second+Day+005.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469815488287500274" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinsfcRkJCR_KVunPtxEWvquPdwa1EVFdS_K7h6NP9rPQI8dKxTpaT6-J2-XL_w1eQKJRMNDvQt8uNbWbNydRbDajkyi_xdt6_kkdy3Vf7-smTEO-nOfDHTbI13Gn1SMZy2x24LFbT9pjU/s320/Second+Day+005.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Ted with Alan Searle of the Yaquina Wavelength at the Yaquina Bay Hotel</span></em><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">In Ted’s “Ramblings from the Rambler” Daily Diary he states on <strong><span style="color:#006600;">Day1 </span></strong>that “Walking is his new job.” And if walking is his new job, then on <span style="color:#006600;"><strong>Day 2</strong></span> he worked a split shift. And for good reason.<br /><br />When we arrived in Toledo, we were welcomed by Kenneth and Polly Erickson, managers of the Yaquina Bay Hotel. News travels quickly in a small town. Kenneth called Alan Searle, publisher of the <em>Yaquina Wavelength,</em> and soon Ted’s first interview was arranged for 11:00 A.M. the following day. We were very excited about the interview and appreciated the interest. So <strong><span style="color:#006600;">Day 2</span></strong> went like this, a morning walk (work), a mid-day interview (fun), an afternoon walk (work), a split shift.<br /><br />After the interview we had a quick lunch and then Ted was on the road again, finishing the second day at Burnt Woods. Day Two was a day of highs and lows. The excitement of the first interview, a high. An unfortunate muscle pull at the end of the day, a low. We’ll see what Day Three brings.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"></span>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-31827334935587635822010-05-09T08:34:00.000-07:002010-05-27T23:46:25.611-07:00On Being a Morning Person for My Man<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTON_EtRaVezAssom1jRXuto7V-ldJTU8Z04Pm2QrdZOr1XDoMmlmh__2jffaLJN6EHOEyhmYVBNJFWyJlwD0yUJCeDJuy4ShXLT7hOdLHmA4O-DvGLf20qzc77BcQw5RzF-elE6A8ws/s1600/Second+Day+002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469299764958627954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTON_EtRaVezAssom1jRXuto7V-ldJTU8Z04Pm2QrdZOr1XDoMmlmh__2jffaLJN6EHOEyhmYVBNJFWyJlwD0yUJCeDJuy4ShXLT7hOdLHmA4O-DvGLf20qzc77BcQw5RzF-elE6A8ws/s320/Second+Day+002.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> Ted by the Chitwood Bridge on Day 2</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div></span><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">They say opposites attract. So it has been with Ted and me all our married life. An idea person, a doer, one who likes structure, the other quite flexible, and most notably a morning person and a night owl.<br /><br />After scouting the route upon our arrival in Newport, I was not happy with the condition of the road on what would be <strong><span style="color:#006600;">Day 2</span></strong> of Ted’s walk. Construction, minimal or no shoulders, and lots of curves. On his first day’s trek, Ted was able to ascertain that the traffic was heaviest between 8:00 A.M. and 10:00 A.M. So I said, “Why don’t we get up early and get started so you can get in several hours in before the traffic gets heavy. We could start at 5:30 A. M. when it gets light.”<br /><br />Needless to say, my Morning Man was all over that. A heavy rain prevented our 5:30 A.M. departure, but he was on the road by 6:30 when it cleared. So the Night Owl becomes a Morning Person for the one she loves.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">And now I’ve got to put the lap top away, put the car in drive and go find him. It’s 7:52 A. M., Day # 2. Over and out from the WAO Sag Wagon.</span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVW2oUYRYBVFqKWE33YyxzIZYEbvzYIM4_lA0RNaMNOjmPgqB51NR9joBEmB0ul33o-k31Eg-OA2C7f_u2bwFpNrIeJjPsWV-kzcHyoRJsD9aCD3dFzZY-fW_nG0hSTYtui9ccg_Lb4K4/s1600/Second+Day+003.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469298992684365218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVW2oUYRYBVFqKWE33YyxzIZYEbvzYIM4_lA0RNaMNOjmPgqB51NR9joBEmB0ul33o-k31Eg-OA2C7f_u2bwFpNrIeJjPsWV-kzcHyoRJsD9aCD3dFzZY-fW_nG0hSTYtui9ccg_Lb4K4/s200/Second+Day+003.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> <em>Blogging by the bridge</em></span><br /><br /><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvxAo0O8Af__6sAvHXFg7uzYADQXvYy1JLM1OF5sEh8IJZhHE99eEKU57Lb9_bgLfLt3uXRUZPTYEEGK7zYOGHdbSiyJlbx0FHyQk3F97chyatSb8Q_cixubMwe0vRHVduJeVeFPMs6Ic/s1600/Second+Day+002.jpg"></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div></div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-64148917603860652122010-05-06T13:45:00.000-07:002010-05-27T23:45:02.995-07:00Steppin' Out<div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Stepping out with Mary Emma and Maryann</span></em><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWk0Qrp8sJRxCdy3KGx6JSOD7bYGUsz_z9SUBMEU2AO40j49NoeK2LBb1Xy9MduSY0RcbKaZe-dIGjJ_x5MK_UW-7z1P4XXekLsGFBAPX4WS-4m_jxRmdvCO2yJQfKjlriaI2MbfJe-w/s1600/First+Day+009.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468275802759195826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWk0Qrp8sJRxCdy3KGx6JSOD7bYGUsz_z9SUBMEU2AO40j49NoeK2LBb1Xy9MduSY0RcbKaZe-dIGjJ_x5MK_UW-7z1P4XXekLsGFBAPX4WS-4m_jxRmdvCO2yJQfKjlriaI2MbfJe-w/s320/First+Day+009.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">At 7:00 A.M. on <strong><span style="color:#006600;">Day 1</span></strong> it was raining. At 8:00 A.M. the clouds parted and the sun came through. Our day was made even brighter when we met Maryann Brown and Mary Emma Parks from the Yachats Costal Gems Volkssport Club. Maryann is vice president of the Oregon Trail Volkssport Association (OTSVA) and Mary Emma is the club secretary for the Coastal Gems. They welcomed us to the area and escorted Ted on the first two and a half miles of his journey. Along the way they discussed volksmarching and walk organization. At about mile two Maryann saw a dime, reached down, picked it up, and gave it to Ted. This dime is now his good luck charm for the walk. Thanks Maryann and Mary Emma for the warm welcome. We hope to volksmarch with you soon.</span><br /><div align="left"><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">On the road</span></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjptCv-cbR2KE2jgHRR5i2X9CzyYxmEHSjtWW3j5sdZdxd5ps9C_d4mXnx8RWfejet89xvfHGcCEBMXXP3cOAJTqLtnKpjgDXWLshsUUlZWpZNSrJDUd4YV0BujuER8uqiun53USsgphMo/s1600/First+Day+011.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468272148146636866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjptCv-cbR2KE2jgHRR5i2X9CzyYxmEHSjtWW3j5sdZdxd5ps9C_d4mXnx8RWfejet89xvfHGcCEBMXXP3cOAJTqLtnKpjgDXWLshsUUlZWpZNSrJDUd4YV0BujuER8uqiun53USsgphMo/s200/First+Day+011.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDr9HP_QAaDGLBe_Qlko7jx2YneSPHqkGFZB7XffeFIrnAyyVyNI7XoTXaflJyFYBH8d4gXT_R87cqRwKN5a9oO9ZMtWyHWplnQoNVpYkJrlti976B5ff-wLl5PX_Dhuw3CpvLF3Um3y4/s1600/First+Day+012.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468271358737182258" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDr9HP_QAaDGLBe_Qlko7jx2YneSPHqkGFZB7XffeFIrnAyyVyNI7XoTXaflJyFYBH8d4gXT_R87cqRwKN5a9oO9ZMtWyHWplnQoNVpYkJrlti976B5ff-wLl5PX_Dhuw3CpvLF3Um3y4/s200/First+Day+012.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtY6tosyfHsk4u80nxm3uBJQQrbP0-5P8UN2w_8WJNTS4GTT38J_OuysiAjXfAGqJVJnmvU3d4GZ7TSB0qPFTsMSluNnnSIxAmiV4tytgaHgLBT2tAVu2nIxP496LG_1TjLL6Jflbo-ho/s1600/First+Day+009.jpg"></a><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></div><p><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Saying goodbye to new friends</span></p></em>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-31295593920299833072010-05-05T20:27:00.000-07:002010-05-05T21:09:14.270-07:00"My Toe Just Touched the Water, My Toe Just..."<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9NGC4izMB0-vfaZu9k8_as_JSwP56HIBXcoVwbEJZjpFoHEpqt-G7y_cokVhlcAF5tRGbjXSGqJiK3rMhdMzn4_YwWv3InqkoOWsiUK4z_SpQtmVuByJVH2g9cn7f0g6A466IzU-NNo/s1600/Toe+in+Water+006.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468003405358123906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9NGC4izMB0-vfaZu9k8_as_JSwP56HIBXcoVwbEJZjpFoHEpqt-G7y_cokVhlcAF5tRGbjXSGqJiK3rMhdMzn4_YwWv3InqkoOWsiUK4z_SpQtmVuByJVH2g9cn7f0g6A466IzU-NNo/s320/Toe+in+Water+006.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> Toe in the Pacific</span></em><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">Not knowing how hectic the first day of the walk would be, we decided to conduct the “toe in the water” ceremony a day early. So at 2:30 P.M. on May 3, 2010, Ted touched the frigidly cold water of the Pacific Ocean. In her song <em>Toe</em>, Norah Jones croons, “My toe just touched the water, my toe just touched the water….” Well, Ted did better than that. He got in up to his ankles and then made the short walk back to our hotel. So the journey has begun. “Go Ted Go.”</span></div><div align="left"><br /> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsWFHs0R8fKzYyMZsQFLNQWhMh8cQQ88XDh5SG0kgdJFHrA-QRRPOGciyJYQhXgxGh7P-lAbz0AbX_qV48Pviv7uR8gqXlqIL6ZpCWz0E5le5g4P1-m7GHg3lunUg8dGpliQubokM36U/s1600/Toe+in+Water+004.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468001221297893346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsWFHs0R8fKzYyMZsQFLNQWhMh8cQQ88XDh5SG0kgdJFHrA-QRRPOGciyJYQhXgxGh7P-lAbz0AbX_qV48Pviv7uR8gqXlqIL6ZpCWz0E5le5g4P1-m7GHg3lunUg8dGpliQubokM36U/s320/Toe+in+Water+004.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;">"Go Ted Go" </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2O0hDpfBoyTdgGu_NQ1Zu8be8Ae1M984z5PkcbhjTTKEBQunOwEeqnd77C1tVGl00d3Et0Weu3DjGGVIJYlhanidlVdrfSWEoczCbvOONA4FiE3Ux0Ut9GgHqKIEO8K5uQfIytboJ9GY/s1600/Toe+in+Water+009.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468000858144531730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2O0hDpfBoyTdgGu_NQ1Zu8be8Ae1M984z5PkcbhjTTKEBQunOwEeqnd77C1tVGl00d3Et0Weu3DjGGVIJYlhanidlVdrfSWEoczCbvOONA4FiE3Ux0Ut9GgHqKIEO8K5uQfIytboJ9GY/s320/Toe+in+Water+009.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Ted's mom Barbara wishes him Godspeed</span></em><br /><br /><p align="center"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJsOO_V_pwJPO2sV9g5CnaDAYqT61Tc8nQINpG-G7Q8-wUTj1UM-hMkSM9KQ_XL7l4Gq1LZe2JaP8VbJbUX3A3FYJZWjD6d-oVUZ6f3cszRzN3NNmTatiwg0KHVh5ABr4mZfRR-XEBPQ/s1600/Toe+in+Water+002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467994243857467522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJsOO_V_pwJPO2sV9g5CnaDAYqT61Tc8nQINpG-G7Q8-wUTj1UM-hMkSM9KQ_XL7l4Gq1LZe2JaP8VbJbUX3A3FYJZWjD6d-oVUZ6f3cszRzN3NNmTatiwg0KHVh5ABr4mZfRR-XEBPQ/s320/Toe+in+Water+002.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;"> The short trek up the hill to the hotel</span></em> </p></div></div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-21825373973561098402010-05-04T20:00:00.001-07:002010-05-12T21:30:51.339-07:00Welcome to Newport<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHWS_82uZkcewfaqgi3-9Ilidf-77w3qIiW8CcoIcWtNvyB3gh4wYVBUklcOFKGJc7c1bVoCQpVYL-1vKPos0JHUbbEKe2LAHgYhRczwV8wBTrjEMEF-TRgNigXtrQFC4YWep9D97sVuA/s1600/First+Day+029.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467619933121793634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHWS_82uZkcewfaqgi3-9Ilidf-77w3qIiW8CcoIcWtNvyB3gh4wYVBUklcOFKGJc7c1bVoCQpVYL-1vKPos0JHUbbEKe2LAHgYhRczwV8wBTrjEMEF-TRgNigXtrQFC4YWep9D97sVuA/s320/First+Day+029.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:78%;">the Yaquina Bay Bridge</span></em> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">We rolled into Newport at about 11:30 A.M. May 3rd and, upon arrival, checked into the Whaler, where we were given a very warm reception. The first order of business was to drive the route, estimating where Ted would end his walk the second day. After that, a late lunch of wonderful fresh fish. Our second order of business was the official “Toe in the Water” Ceremony (more about that in a separate post).</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em></em></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>Checking in at the Whaler, </em></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>Tammy </em></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>can't believe Ted's going to WAO</em></span></div></span><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0_FpAZD3At8G3RFWua5u30gAmucMfk_ISXzWR4_E5ZU9pMQ_Nk7zjZUjuBZlwS8W7PkkOVnI10ffsOBVajqkdEobsClLxVdNcPDQStiXMB1DVcjSOw1LGJPZC98wX49C1NEVKx2wZlVE/s1600/First+Day+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467619465500235394" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0_FpAZD3At8G3RFWua5u30gAmucMfk_ISXzWR4_E5ZU9pMQ_Nk7zjZUjuBZlwS8W7PkkOVnI10ffsOBVajqkdEobsClLxVdNcPDQStiXMB1DVcjSOw1LGJPZC98wX49C1NEVKx2wZlVE/s200/First+Day+001.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">In 1915 Newport was described as a “year-round health and pleasure resort at the entrance to the famous Yaquina Bay.” At that time the town was accessible by steamship and rail. Tourism increased in 1932 with the opening of the Oregon Coast Highway and the Yaquina Bay Bridge. Today the economy of Newport is centered on tourism, commercial fishing, some logging. It is from this beautiful port city that Ted’s walk will begin his walk tomorrow at 8:00 A.M.</span></div><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>fishing boats on the beautiful Yaquina Bay</em></span></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCuI17HO5AU2WldrpvA4WfwAT7f6j0WEL2_OeyJaLHyZo8M-1ZxA32FMBLjinpKSIV-lPa3HW94Osqbi55RVoh3tQ4PKuZ19MJ2Jaj1scdgLBk6rdMk1QhcRdF3LthYsHkqqZAX8oSWk/s1600/First+Day+028.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467619080925711570" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCuI17HO5AU2WldrpvA4WfwAT7f6j0WEL2_OeyJaLHyZo8M-1ZxA32FMBLjinpKSIV-lPa3HW94Osqbi55RVoh3tQ4PKuZ19MJ2Jaj1scdgLBk6rdMk1QhcRdF3LthYsHkqqZAX8oSWk/s200/First+Day+028.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-72078809786199631322010-05-03T17:15:00.001-07:002010-05-03T23:17:09.725-07:00Old Friends, New Friends, Friends Along the Way<div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxne8mrxnttEZ9C6RihBdky_KMlCBpYhUxCIEXZjlDnIp9Ai1tKhIJSqa6kOIoBtTZZMswBjQp0ccyA7uFPYUc6J_o86Ya1mLO7dg-wAEBLOc2PTSLw6QzUegfD9fqQTBHXqhhaYgHLc/s1600/P1040071.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467212238269202098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxne8mrxnttEZ9C6RihBdky_KMlCBpYhUxCIEXZjlDnIp9Ai1tKhIJSqa6kOIoBtTZZMswBjQp0ccyA7uFPYUc6J_o86Ya1mLO7dg-wAEBLOc2PTSLw6QzUegfD9fqQTBHXqhhaYgHLc/s320/P1040071.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>With dear friend and long-time hiking buddy Laura at Gray Butte</em></span><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Laura will join us near Prarie City</span></em> <div align="left"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">In less than 24 hours Ted will begin his 456 mile trek across Oregon by putting his toe in the water at Newport. As Ted makes his way across the state, he is looking forward to all that he will see and experience on the journey. He is especially excited about being joined by friends for a mile or two (or five or 15). He will renew old friendships and meet new friends along the way.<br /><br />We are especially honored to be welcomed to Newport by members of the Waldport and Yahats Volksmarch Clubs who will accompany Ted on the first few miles of the trek.<br /><br />Several of Ted’s college friends plan on walking with him or hosting us for an evening's reprieve. Friends we taught with overseas, new friends from Crooked River Ranch, and family will join as we make our way. </span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><div align="left"></div></span></div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2859535615374203711.post-11717359074338568002010-05-02T18:33:00.001-07:002010-05-03T18:03:40.477-07:00The Sag Wagon, Priscilla's Chevrolet<span style="font-size:85%;">When you lose a parent, and years go by, you think you are OK. But thoughts of your loved one creep up at the darndest times. And as we start out on this next adventure I can’t help but think of my mother, Priscilla, the original <span style="color:#006600;">“Adventurer.”</span><br /></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">In 1943, Priscilla’s dad put her on a bus in Massachusetts. The bus was bound for Texas. My grandfather later described this as one of the hardest things he ever did. Several days later the bus rolled into Austin, Texas and my mother had her first glimpse of her beloved University of Texas.<br /><br />Priscilla worked her way through school, taught botany labs to classes full of returning service men, served as a night editor of the <em>Daily Texan</em>, and when it was all said and done, was selected as a University of Texas Goodfellow, one of the highest honors the University bestows on its outstanding students.<br /><br />After graduation, Priscilla once again boarded a bus, this time headed for the small west Texas town of Wellington, where she took a job on the award winning newspaper, the <em>Wellington Leader</em>. She didn’t intend to stay long, only a couple of years. But she met my dad, and, well, you know the rest of the story.<br /><br /></span><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Priscilla would agree that 55 M.P.H. is just too slow!<br /></span></em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3zfRMDgxqEKYsOUxYCP_0quilw6AiGtuzB3nSAgoDl2hSAz7ucowlrmMakIwmko7xYasBQhA8sXr57Jl-rQn6MN-sLRKiLx9HDmZ-Vlfvqpd4ymwtbFBAA9zysM-1itbBsMhcwggs_Y/s1600/Chevrolet+003.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466871236935520386" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3zfRMDgxqEKYsOUxYCP_0quilw6AiGtuzB3nSAgoDl2hSAz7ucowlrmMakIwmko7xYasBQhA8sXr57Jl-rQn6MN-sLRKiLx9HDmZ-Vlfvqpd4ymwtbFBAA9zysM-1itbBsMhcwggs_Y/s200/Chevrolet+003.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">But she was always ready for an adventure. And I feel quite certain she would be up for a trip across Oregon. It is therefore appropriate that Priscilla’s Chevrolet will serve as the Sag Wagon for this journey. And I think she would support Ted’s cause, raising the speed limit on Oregon’s limited access roads. After all she was a bit of a speedster. I can’t think of how many times I would say as we drove the back roads of Texas, “Mom, you’re going a bit too fast”, “Mom, you’re going over 80”, “Mom, you might want to slow down a bit.”<br /></span><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Ready to roll, two days and counting</span></em></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEcudUbtLpkgFCYiHnrww-pUuv-WqQOa0saNHeGaKVkP_Ss-kiIZ-mS5XgWJRZM0H7c9V6rsz0jxHN45i5XLDt5h8V3Caca2SDvbzJe3i-fF1wvcpxqT1Xj98oybpwdxtJkNvCRWJ1ZWg/s1600/Chevrolet+002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466862539591334178" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEcudUbtLpkgFCYiHnrww-pUuv-WqQOa0saNHeGaKVkP_Ss-kiIZ-mS5XgWJRZM0H7c9V6rsz0jxHN45i5XLDt5h8V3Caca2SDvbzJe3i-fF1wvcpxqT1Xj98oybpwdxtJkNvCRWJ1ZWg/s200/Chevrolet+002.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">My job on this journey will be to drive the Sag Wagon. I will transport our stuff from point to point, check on Ted, and pick him up at the end of the day. And as we see all the beauty that Oregon has to offer, I wish my mom could be riding shot gun with me in her Chevrolet.<br /></span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigeC3YQDaWtFys6qxB00vtuPoFWlJPEhi5bfuk0GPh9aXyhHG8abu_hayMgX_fkiwYN0tfFpoNw_XMys9uOd2NcAy4-qW_9FdJxeJ0njEJg2VX8H8yBOzjFT2ix0PPzhqoK-BBgCru97c/s1600/Chevrolet+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466860761257900066" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigeC3YQDaWtFys6qxB00vtuPoFWlJPEhi5bfuk0GPh9aXyhHG8abu_hayMgX_fkiwYN0tfFpoNw_XMys9uOd2NcAy4-qW_9FdJxeJ0njEJg2VX8H8yBOzjFT2ix0PPzhqoK-BBgCru97c/s320/Chevrolet+001.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">Baylee, "the Dog", wants to ride across Oregon in Priscilla's Chevrolet</span></em><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM0nCRGlJEpWbW_ep7V6v_uMMzrbiWOQaRH3j3NqT1CclR8ADzDdDSvkJ7bNyoipj3YFYX5it_HQl9W9OoVVAJbM8xO-sjNWRNzzBh8C2EczCJfcXsYP6EU0nlrhY5WzuRdLNy9WAbMi8/s1600/Chevrolet+003.jpg"></a><div></div>Blogging and Slogging Across Oregonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13833382222728969424noreply@blogger.com1