I am not certain why John Sandford's writing appeals to me but here are four more titles of his books I've read recently:
1. Heat Lightning - late revenge for atrocities by Americans at the end of the Vietnam War.
2. Buried Prey - an old murder case is revived when bodies of two young girls are found.
3. Secret Prey - the CEO and president of the board of a Minnesota bank is murdered on the opening day of deer season.
4. Naked Prey - kidnappings, murder and drug running are the strange brew in this novel.
(I don't particularly like the titles of the "Prey" novels, but then titles are often tricky, I guess...)
These are all books about cops and thus about testosterone, tough guy posturing, profanity, sex, drugs, bad people, car chases, guns and the politics of police work. But if there wasn't nuanced character development in the men and women in Sandford's novels, and especially in the two main characters (Virgil Flowers and Lucas Davenport), I wouldn't keep reading his books. (I did think Secret Prey, written in 1998, was less credible than his other novels as it seemed coarser and less complex..but even so, I finished it.)
The good guys work for the BCA or the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension in Minnesota. They are slightly rogue, smart (of course), appeal to woman (of course) and solve murders.
A couple of random excerpts:
"His (Virgil) thoughts all tumbled over each other, and he got nowhere. He cooled out by thinking briefly about God, and considered praying that there wouldn't be another murder and another middle-of-the-night call. He decided that praying wouldn't help, and went to sleep, and dreamed of the fisherwoman with strong brown arms and gold-flecked married eyes."
"Having been disinvited from lunch, Virgil went to an I-94 diner and had a chicken potpie, with roughly a billion calories in chicken fat, which added flavor to the two pounds of salt included with the pie. He cut the salt with three Cokes, and left feeling like the Hindenburg."
"He was back at this apartment in six minutes, and took another thoughtful six minutes to get into a pair of light khaki slacks, a short-sleeve white shirt, and a navy linen sport coat with a wine-colored tie. He hesitated over the short-sleeve shirt, because Esquire magazine despised them, but then, Esquire editors probably didn't have to walk through slum neighborhoods in ninety-degree heat."
There is always just enough non-cop commentary / description / dialogue to make the characters more real and certainly more interesting.
Another reason I like Sandford is that the milieu is usually Minnesota with evocative passages of the northern woods--the cabins and little resorts, small lakes, walleye fishing, long winters, bars in small towns--all a counterpoint to the action in The Cities (Minneapolis and St. Paul).
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
On the Road: Devil's Lake, North Dakota to Ashland, Wisconsin
It was 70 miles to Minnesota, but there is a little NWR 3 miles off US2 just west of Grand Forks, North Dakota which is the last town before Minnesota. The refuge is named Kelly's Slough. Maria and I stopped there one time, and I have returned at least twice since then. It is a watery place in the middle of farm country on a gravel road. Of course I had to check it out although there were very few birds around as the prairie potholes were mostly still frozen in spite of temperatures in the 50 and 60s. I saw only occasional ducks and many pairs of Canada geese who seemed to be patiently waiting for open water as they were usually perched on ice that was soon to disappear
As I neared Kelly's Slough, I saw a man with a spotting scope and binoculars near his car looking out over some actual open water. However, as I got closer, I realized it wasn't a gentleman after all but a woman close to my age. We chatted a bit about what she was seeing (tundra swans, some ducks) and I drove on, turned around and as I passed her (she was now in her car heading towards me) she motioned for me to roll down my window and told me about some more ponds up the road. I told her I "had to get home" and she asked where. When I told her Holland, Michigan, she got a look on her face and said, "You've GOT to be kidding!"
Her son teaches organic chemistry at Hope and her daughter-in-law is a physician in Holland. So it goes on the road. I often met people who either knew Holland directly or some place else in western Michigan.
On into Minnesota with a stop in Grand Rapids at a great coffee shop to get espresso along with an almond praline bar and a piece of feta-fennel quiche which I would eat for supper later (thinking ahead and not wanting vending machine food).
Through Duluth, over a high bridge, and into Wisconsin for 80 miles before the UP. Ashland, Wisconsin is a pleasant town on the shores of Lake Superior with many motels, about 50 miles after Duluth, and is the access point for Chaquamegon Bay and the Apostle Islands. I passed a large lodge-motel on the west end of town and drove on, but pulled into a parking lot to scout out where to stay. I was doing this more and more often: stopping and calling on my iPhone for rates. On a whim I called the lodge and they were very reasonable. I also called a motel in the first town in the UP (Ironwood) and was put on hold and then "the computer froze up" and then, after I patiently waited an hour (just kidding, but it seemed way too long) was told that perhaps the rate would be $85 which was a lot more than the nice lodge right on Lake Superior and which is where I stayed of course. I had a bit of a glitch getting Internet as I needed an Ethernet connection rather than WiFi and finally found out the cable they gas me did not plug into the port on the desk lamp but into the wall instead. A young girl at the desk came up and showed me this.
So I worked 4 hours and ate my feta-fennel quiche after I went back to the desk for a fork.
I actually set up my spotting scope and could easily see the golden "tears" on the swans out on the lake confirming they were Tundras, along with displaying Common goldeneyes. The males would suddenly and repeatedly throw their heads all the way backwards and then jerk them forward again. All to impress the females....
There was the lake to the north and a marsh to the south across the road. Of course, the rates in the summer go up considerably, but what a nice place to stay.
As I neared Kelly's Slough, I saw a man with a spotting scope and binoculars near his car looking out over some actual open water. However, as I got closer, I realized it wasn't a gentleman after all but a woman close to my age. We chatted a bit about what she was seeing (tundra swans, some ducks) and I drove on, turned around and as I passed her (she was now in her car heading towards me) she motioned for me to roll down my window and told me about some more ponds up the road. I told her I "had to get home" and she asked where. When I told her Holland, Michigan, she got a look on her face and said, "You've GOT to be kidding!"
Her son teaches organic chemistry at Hope and her daughter-in-law is a physician in Holland. So it goes on the road. I often met people who either knew Holland directly or some place else in western Michigan.
On into Minnesota with a stop in Grand Rapids at a great coffee shop to get espresso along with an almond praline bar and a piece of feta-fennel quiche which I would eat for supper later (thinking ahead and not wanting vending machine food).
Through Duluth, over a high bridge, and into Wisconsin for 80 miles before the UP. Ashland, Wisconsin is a pleasant town on the shores of Lake Superior with many motels, about 50 miles after Duluth, and is the access point for Chaquamegon Bay and the Apostle Islands. I passed a large lodge-motel on the west end of town and drove on, but pulled into a parking lot to scout out where to stay. I was doing this more and more often: stopping and calling on my iPhone for rates. On a whim I called the lodge and they were very reasonable. I also called a motel in the first town in the UP (Ironwood) and was put on hold and then "the computer froze up" and then, after I patiently waited an hour (just kidding, but it seemed way too long) was told that perhaps the rate would be $85 which was a lot more than the nice lodge right on Lake Superior and which is where I stayed of course. I had a bit of a glitch getting Internet as I needed an Ethernet connection rather than WiFi and finally found out the cable they gas me did not plug into the port on the desk lamp but into the wall instead. A young girl at the desk came up and showed me this.
So I worked 4 hours and ate my feta-fennel quiche after I went back to the desk for a fork.
I actually set up my spotting scope and could easily see the golden "tears" on the swans out on the lake confirming they were Tundras, along with displaying Common goldeneyes. The males would suddenly and repeatedly throw their heads all the way backwards and then jerk them forward again. All to impress the females....
There was the lake to the north and a marsh to the south across the road. Of course, the rates in the summer go up considerably, but what a nice place to stay.
Friday, March 16, 2012
On the Road: Havre, Montana to Devil's Lake, North Dakota
A sunny morning which was good but which also meant driving into the blinding brilliance of the sun rising over the prairie. Sunglasses only helped some, but since I hadn't started all that early, the sun soon rose above my windshield.
I truly love the beginning of new days. I loved packing up (I was efficient by this time and only had one trip from motel to car) and started out again. All the travel weariness of the day before was erased by a night's sleep.
I started to see grouse and pheasants grubbing on the sides of the road. While US2 is two lanes, the traffic is usually sparse and by the time I was 20 miles east of Havre, I could make a margin call with no issues so I did: a U turn and onto the shoulder (mostly). I crept up to a grouse while in the car and got very close. Perhaps grouse are not particularly smart? or have a poor sense of self-preservation? since they just stood still looking rather clueless, or perhaps they had intuition and knew I was not out to harm them. At any rate, I saw all the pertinent markings for a good ID. These were sharp-tailed grouse (LB) and I saw several. They look like prairie chickens but have black chevrons on their breast and bellies rather than black bars.
Montana is nearly 700 miles long and I usually underestimate how many miles until I get to Williston which is just over the North Dakota border. And then, way at the eastern end of Montana, there was major road construction...widening the existing highway. I had to wait for pilot cars twice. At one stop, I chatted with a Native American woman who was working at directing traffic (basically making sure cars stopped and then motioning them on when the pilot car approached). She was a great grandmother and attractive, looking to be in her 50s with smooth lovely skin. She said she has been doing this for many years with a few breaks for working as a Home Health nurse. She makes $30 an hour. She told me all about how she takes care of herself on this job...changing her footwear every 4 hours...how she had fashioned some slow drip thing she wears in her hard hat when it is hot.. how she layers her clothing.
For much of the time while driving these high plains, I alternated between listening to French radio (an AM station from Canada) and a Native American station. Most of the time, American radio was country or religious and pretty boring. I understood about 1% of the French but kept hoping it would suddenly click in my brain. I loved the sweetness of the Native American woman on one station who was called "Miss Fancy." She played an eclectic mix of music...drum, country western, a bit of rock and roll, about half done in Native language...perhaps Crow. There were tribute songs to birthdays and deaths and a pending marriage "at the casino at 3 p.m. on Saturday afternoon."
Williston is changing as is much of North Dakota because of the Bakken oil field and one sees evidence of the industry everywhere in western ND. Huge, monstrous equipment, oil rigs and derricks and storage units, thousands of trucks, hastily built "man camps" for the oil workers which essentially were enclaves of 50 to 100 stark rectangular, trailer-like structures lined precisely in a grid. Many were starkly new, but some were older as stuff was beginning to accumulate around individual units, and many had plywood enclosures attached to the entry areas. It seemed Soviet. Richard says prostitutes are also getting rich out there which I don't doubt. While there must be women working in the actual oil industry, testosterone was in the air, along with the dust and noise and the smell of money. A new version of the old West.
I didn't even want stay in Minot which was also bustling and so much busier than just a few years ago, so I continued to Devil's Lake and stayed in a Holiday Inn Express, another very pleasant and comfortable motel with reasonable rates this time of year. I guess the oil boom is mostly to the west as there were few workers here.
Another vending machine supper....
I truly love the beginning of new days. I loved packing up (I was efficient by this time and only had one trip from motel to car) and started out again. All the travel weariness of the day before was erased by a night's sleep.
I started to see grouse and pheasants grubbing on the sides of the road. While US2 is two lanes, the traffic is usually sparse and by the time I was 20 miles east of Havre, I could make a margin call with no issues so I did: a U turn and onto the shoulder (mostly). I crept up to a grouse while in the car and got very close. Perhaps grouse are not particularly smart? or have a poor sense of self-preservation? since they just stood still looking rather clueless, or perhaps they had intuition and knew I was not out to harm them. At any rate, I saw all the pertinent markings for a good ID. These were sharp-tailed grouse (LB) and I saw several. They look like prairie chickens but have black chevrons on their breast and bellies rather than black bars.
Montana is nearly 700 miles long and I usually underestimate how many miles until I get to Williston which is just over the North Dakota border. And then, way at the eastern end of Montana, there was major road construction...widening the existing highway. I had to wait for pilot cars twice. At one stop, I chatted with a Native American woman who was working at directing traffic (basically making sure cars stopped and then motioning them on when the pilot car approached). She was a great grandmother and attractive, looking to be in her 50s with smooth lovely skin. She said she has been doing this for many years with a few breaks for working as a Home Health nurse. She makes $30 an hour. She told me all about how she takes care of herself on this job...changing her footwear every 4 hours...how she had fashioned some slow drip thing she wears in her hard hat when it is hot.. how she layers her clothing.
For much of the time while driving these high plains, I alternated between listening to French radio (an AM station from Canada) and a Native American station. Most of the time, American radio was country or religious and pretty boring. I understood about 1% of the French but kept hoping it would suddenly click in my brain. I loved the sweetness of the Native American woman on one station who was called "Miss Fancy." She played an eclectic mix of music...drum, country western, a bit of rock and roll, about half done in Native language...perhaps Crow. There were tribute songs to birthdays and deaths and a pending marriage "at the casino at 3 p.m. on Saturday afternoon."
Williston is changing as is much of North Dakota because of the Bakken oil field and one sees evidence of the industry everywhere in western ND. Huge, monstrous equipment, oil rigs and derricks and storage units, thousands of trucks, hastily built "man camps" for the oil workers which essentially were enclaves of 50 to 100 stark rectangular, trailer-like structures lined precisely in a grid. Many were starkly new, but some were older as stuff was beginning to accumulate around individual units, and many had plywood enclosures attached to the entry areas. It seemed Soviet. Richard says prostitutes are also getting rich out there which I don't doubt. While there must be women working in the actual oil industry, testosterone was in the air, along with the dust and noise and the smell of money. A new version of the old West.
I didn't even want stay in Minot which was also bustling and so much busier than just a few years ago, so I continued to Devil's Lake and stayed in a Holiday Inn Express, another very pleasant and comfortable motel with reasonable rates this time of year. I guess the oil boom is mostly to the west as there were few workers here.
Another vending machine supper....
Thursday, March 15, 2012
On the Road: Lolo, Montana to Havre, Montana
This morning, it was 30 degrees with a very light snow. Missoula is notorious for inversion weather so I guess this was not that unusual. Weather check via iPhone assured sunshine and warmer temperatures at Shelby, Chinook, Choteau and Havre so I headed in that direction. (Kalispell would have been 120 miles directly north of Missoula but I went east first and then north on the east side of the mountains.)
I went along the Blackfeet river (A River Runs Through It) and into sunshine...through Lincoln, over Rogers Pass and turned north on US287, listening several times to Leonard Cohen CD I had bought at a Starbucks. I have run out of superlatives to describe the Western landscape, but this road seduced me the first time I traveled it, in the spring of 1992. I remember having to stop for a flock of sheep which were blocking the road, and a chagrined cowboy in chaps and on his horse apologizing to me. The mountains rise form the prairies abruptly to the west and this road runs parallel to what is called the Rocky Mountain Front for 100 miles. It passes through the small towns of Augusta and Choteau and a couple of large Hutteritte colonies, over open rangeland, up and down substantial hills and across small creeks. Golden grasses and grains stretch forever to the east and to the mountains in the west. It is usually windy.
I made a short side trip just south of Choteau hoping to find Lapland Longspurs but only saw a soaring Bald Eagle and Horned Larks which I saw in every state whenever I slowed down enough to check out the small birds at the sides of the roads. They are quite tame and I could often see them clearly...even their little black horns and yellow (or sometimes white) throats.
The detour was the Bellview Road, and within a mile there was an odd sight: a dozen military personnel working in a small fenced enclosure doing something. Once, years ago, I was stopped in this area because of fire restrictions, and the official who questioned my intentions and asked why I was wandering about off the main road, told me I had probably been at the "underground missile site" when I told him I had gotten a bit lost and had just turned around at a small fenced enclosure. So today, I figured something similar was in progress, and later, after I drove due west for 6 miles and had turned around, I passed a large black pickup parked along the side of this remote road with the words "SECURITY" on it and also saw a couple of Humvees painted in camouflage. Of course I was curious but of course I had the sense not to stop and take photos. I did feel they were checking me out though.
On US2, I passed a golden eagle pair sitting on a huge stick nest near a small pond, water being uncommon in this part of Montana.
I stayed in Havre in a Best Western which was wonderful. What a difference $20 makes in motel amenities and services. I had a large suite on the second floor and worked four hours with a stable Internet connection watching the late afternoon / evening sky from my second-floor room.
I began craving a salad and soup so called the restuarant across the street (The Duck Inn) since they were advertising things like king crab and huge red meat entrees. What I wanted was a salad with lots of crab and avocado and fresh iceberg lettuce and a wonderful dressing and a perfect hot delicious soup. But that wasn't to be; the pleasant woman didn't "get it" and wanted me to call the adjoining bar as they had "soup" and could help me. I knew it wouldn't meet my standards, so I ate from the vending machine in the motel...popcorn and sun chips.
I went along the Blackfeet river (A River Runs Through It) and into sunshine...through Lincoln, over Rogers Pass and turned north on US287, listening several times to Leonard Cohen CD I had bought at a Starbucks. I have run out of superlatives to describe the Western landscape, but this road seduced me the first time I traveled it, in the spring of 1992. I remember having to stop for a flock of sheep which were blocking the road, and a chagrined cowboy in chaps and on his horse apologizing to me. The mountains rise form the prairies abruptly to the west and this road runs parallel to what is called the Rocky Mountain Front for 100 miles. It passes through the small towns of Augusta and Choteau and a couple of large Hutteritte colonies, over open rangeland, up and down substantial hills and across small creeks. Golden grasses and grains stretch forever to the east and to the mountains in the west. It is usually windy.
I made a short side trip just south of Choteau hoping to find Lapland Longspurs but only saw a soaring Bald Eagle and Horned Larks which I saw in every state whenever I slowed down enough to check out the small birds at the sides of the roads. They are quite tame and I could often see them clearly...even their little black horns and yellow (or sometimes white) throats.
The detour was the Bellview Road, and within a mile there was an odd sight: a dozen military personnel working in a small fenced enclosure doing something. Once, years ago, I was stopped in this area because of fire restrictions, and the official who questioned my intentions and asked why I was wandering about off the main road, told me I had probably been at the "underground missile site" when I told him I had gotten a bit lost and had just turned around at a small fenced enclosure. So today, I figured something similar was in progress, and later, after I drove due west for 6 miles and had turned around, I passed a large black pickup parked along the side of this remote road with the words "SECURITY" on it and also saw a couple of Humvees painted in camouflage. Of course I was curious but of course I had the sense not to stop and take photos. I did feel they were checking me out though.
On US2, I passed a golden eagle pair sitting on a huge stick nest near a small pond, water being uncommon in this part of Montana.
I stayed in Havre in a Best Western which was wonderful. What a difference $20 makes in motel amenities and services. I had a large suite on the second floor and worked four hours with a stable Internet connection watching the late afternoon / evening sky from my second-floor room.
I began craving a salad and soup so called the restuarant across the street (The Duck Inn) since they were advertising things like king crab and huge red meat entrees. What I wanted was a salad with lots of crab and avocado and fresh iceberg lettuce and a wonderful dressing and a perfect hot delicious soup. But that wasn't to be; the pleasant woman didn't "get it" and wanted me to call the adjoining bar as they had "soup" and could help me. I knew it wouldn't meet my standards, so I ate from the vending machine in the motel...popcorn and sun chips.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
On the Road: John Day, Oregon to Lolo, Montana
Today was definitely an early spring day with many changes in the weather....
I left John Day by 8 a.m., dismayed when I looked out the motel window to see snow on the ground and snow still coming down, but I drove a long way today and saw the most amazing country. Between John Day and Ontario, Oregon, I had to go over more mountain passes which were snow-covered with poor visibility. I just went slowly hoping it wouldn't get worse. Usually, I was behind another car or truck so I could follow their tracks.
Finally, near the eastern side of the state, the snow stopped briefly, but then it started again in Idaho. Such was my day....intermittent snow showers and then relatively dry roads. I took a wrong turn in Idaho and soon realized I was heading south instead of north and turned around only to immediately see a coffee shop. I decided to get an espresso; it was the Big Star Coffee Shop. How cool is that?
I drove straight north in Idaho to Riggins (the "whitewater capital" of the country) beyond which town the route became incredibly scenic as it followed the Salmon River with massive mountains all around and then went over what is called the White Bird Grade into Grangeville. This is Nez Perce / Chief Joseph country. There are several memorials and signs explaining their travails. I could see into heaven on the top of White Bird Grade....
Driving in the early spring before significant snow-melt adds a dimension that highlights the mountain geometry, the little valleys and avalanche chutes, the thousands of trees, the peaks above the treelines. It would be challenging in mid-winter if the roads were even open, and sometimes these passes are closed temporarily. Today, however, the roads were mostly dry. The snow on the mountains from Riggins nearly all the way to Lolo, Montana, kept me awestruck as the magnificent vistas changed with each curve in the road. Words are not adequate to describe what I saw. And then, rather suddenly, coming down the other side of White Bird Grade, the sky turned a brilliant blue with bright sunshine and snow-covered evergreens and a horizon 50 miles distant.
I got gas and a sickeningly sweet Hot Buttered Rum cappuccino in Grangeville where several inches of snow had obviously just fallen, but which was already melting.
So, I decided to continue on over Lolo Pass, along the Lochsa River ("winding road next 99 miles") to Missoula. The first part was a short scenic byway, route 13 to Kooksia, through the Nez Perce Indian rez along the Clearwater River which was a lovely, fast-moving stream, the sun glinting off the water and rocks and sun-warmed banks. Several fly fishermen were chest-high in the cold water. I was glad that the Nez Perce live here and that it isn't a hyped up tourist spot.
I obviously did get over Lolo Pass but not without apprehension. The Lochsa is a designated Wild and Scenic river. There is almost no commerce on US 12 along this route, and the road runs with the river on one side and mountains on the other. There were occasional pullouts but often barely any shoulder. I kept having some niggles about snow over the pass. I called "511" for a road report and was advised about "slush and icy patches" which didn't seem TOO prohibitive. It is a two-lane of course and 18-wheelers also use this route to get across the mountains (the Bitterroots) so one has to pay attention and be sharp-eyed as there isn't wiggle room, especially not on "slush and icy patches."
I was keeping track of mileage and hoping I would get to Montana before dark. At 40 miles from the pass, slush and icy patches began and continued for 42 miles. I just went slowly and kept steadily climbing. Wherever there was shade, there was slush and the road became increaingly snow-covered. Then there would be half a mile of exposed road which would be relatively clear. I began to wonder if I was perhaps a bit reckless, but I sure as hell was not going to turn back.
The Lochsa is one definition of natural beauty. The river rocks were covered with several inches of snow, as well as the log jams and little islands. It is a fast river, but there are also a few still pools and shallow pebbled sandbars...Andree and Steve once saw a bear swimming across this river and I watched kayakers run significant whitewater while driving this route. It's one of my favorite roads.
Then, as the road really began to climb (like the last 5 miles before the summit), surprisingly, the driving got much better. There were high protective swow banks on either side, the road widened and there was more gravel for traction, especially along the edges. (No salt is used out west, or at least not in Idaho or Montana.)
And I was over Lolo Pass (still in daylight) and down, down, down to the town of Lolo, where I saw a Day's Inn and impulsively pulled in. Which was a mistake as this was by far the worst motel yet on my trip: Door was open to my room; dead fly in standing water in the bathroom; heat was marginal and I finally covered up one-third of the heater as it was blowing cold air even though I had turned it up to 80; there was a discarded empty small catsup container on the floor; AND, the Internet connection was slow and unstable causing two hours of frustration.
Why did I stay?
I was too tired to change rooms or motels, and of course didn't immediately realize the heat / Internet issue. This motel was also run by East Indians which happened several times across country, and usually they were efficient and helpful but not so here.
I left John Day by 8 a.m., dismayed when I looked out the motel window to see snow on the ground and snow still coming down, but I drove a long way today and saw the most amazing country. Between John Day and Ontario, Oregon, I had to go over more mountain passes which were snow-covered with poor visibility. I just went slowly hoping it wouldn't get worse. Usually, I was behind another car or truck so I could follow their tracks.
Finally, near the eastern side of the state, the snow stopped briefly, but then it started again in Idaho. Such was my day....intermittent snow showers and then relatively dry roads. I took a wrong turn in Idaho and soon realized I was heading south instead of north and turned around only to immediately see a coffee shop. I decided to get an espresso; it was the Big Star Coffee Shop. How cool is that?
I drove straight north in Idaho to Riggins (the "whitewater capital" of the country) beyond which town the route became incredibly scenic as it followed the Salmon River with massive mountains all around and then went over what is called the White Bird Grade into Grangeville. This is Nez Perce / Chief Joseph country. There are several memorials and signs explaining their travails. I could see into heaven on the top of White Bird Grade....
Driving in the early spring before significant snow-melt adds a dimension that highlights the mountain geometry, the little valleys and avalanche chutes, the thousands of trees, the peaks above the treelines. It would be challenging in mid-winter if the roads were even open, and sometimes these passes are closed temporarily. Today, however, the roads were mostly dry. The snow on the mountains from Riggins nearly all the way to Lolo, Montana, kept me awestruck as the magnificent vistas changed with each curve in the road. Words are not adequate to describe what I saw. And then, rather suddenly, coming down the other side of White Bird Grade, the sky turned a brilliant blue with bright sunshine and snow-covered evergreens and a horizon 50 miles distant.
I got gas and a sickeningly sweet Hot Buttered Rum cappuccino in Grangeville where several inches of snow had obviously just fallen, but which was already melting.
So, I decided to continue on over Lolo Pass, along the Lochsa River ("winding road next 99 miles") to Missoula. The first part was a short scenic byway, route 13 to Kooksia, through the Nez Perce Indian rez along the Clearwater River which was a lovely, fast-moving stream, the sun glinting off the water and rocks and sun-warmed banks. Several fly fishermen were chest-high in the cold water. I was glad that the Nez Perce live here and that it isn't a hyped up tourist spot.
I obviously did get over Lolo Pass but not without apprehension. The Lochsa is a designated Wild and Scenic river. There is almost no commerce on US 12 along this route, and the road runs with the river on one side and mountains on the other. There were occasional pullouts but often barely any shoulder. I kept having some niggles about snow over the pass. I called "511" for a road report and was advised about "slush and icy patches" which didn't seem TOO prohibitive. It is a two-lane of course and 18-wheelers also use this route to get across the mountains (the Bitterroots) so one has to pay attention and be sharp-eyed as there isn't wiggle room, especially not on "slush and icy patches."
I was keeping track of mileage and hoping I would get to Montana before dark. At 40 miles from the pass, slush and icy patches began and continued for 42 miles. I just went slowly and kept steadily climbing. Wherever there was shade, there was slush and the road became increaingly snow-covered. Then there would be half a mile of exposed road which would be relatively clear. I began to wonder if I was perhaps a bit reckless, but I sure as hell was not going to turn back.
The Lochsa is one definition of natural beauty. The river rocks were covered with several inches of snow, as well as the log jams and little islands. It is a fast river, but there are also a few still pools and shallow pebbled sandbars...Andree and Steve once saw a bear swimming across this river and I watched kayakers run significant whitewater while driving this route. It's one of my favorite roads.
Then, as the road really began to climb (like the last 5 miles before the summit), surprisingly, the driving got much better. There were high protective swow banks on either side, the road widened and there was more gravel for traction, especially along the edges. (No salt is used out west, or at least not in Idaho or Montana.)
And I was over Lolo Pass (still in daylight) and down, down, down to the town of Lolo, where I saw a Day's Inn and impulsively pulled in. Which was a mistake as this was by far the worst motel yet on my trip: Door was open to my room; dead fly in standing water in the bathroom; heat was marginal and I finally covered up one-third of the heater as it was blowing cold air even though I had turned it up to 80; there was a discarded empty small catsup container on the floor; AND, the Internet connection was slow and unstable causing two hours of frustration.
Why did I stay?
I was too tired to change rooms or motels, and of course didn't immediately realize the heat / Internet issue. This motel was also run by East Indians which happened several times across country, and usually they were efficient and helpful but not so here.
On the Road: Eugene, Oregon to John Day, Oregon
I left Eugene late morning. Andree brought the kids to school and then ran. Steve was sleeping as he worked until 2 a.m. and I wanted to say goodbye before I left so I walked through Hendricks Park to the coffee shop.
Hendriks is a wonderful and large city park, about 75 acres, and 25% of it has hundreds of rhododendrons and an area of native plants; the remainder is native trees like Douglas Firs and Big-Leaf Maples. Some rhodies were already in full and glorious bloom and others had buds soon to open. I saw several Varied Thrushes working through some grass, just like Robins do. I spotted a RC Kinglet and even saw the tiny red slit on the head and then saw a chickadee which turned out to be a Chestnut-backed Chickadee, a bird I had never seen before! It was very windy and I think the presence of so many birds was partly a fall-out. Usually it is difficult to even see birds here because there is so much cover, and the trees are gigantic, but earlier I had seen Song Sparrows (darker and rustier than those I see in Michigan), many twitchy Ruby-crowned Kinglets and Black-capped Chickadees.
Small branches were littering the ground from the srong wind, which Steve said was not that common.
Andree called to say an oil truck had overturned four miles west of Oakridge and that major road across the Cascades was closed, but I hadn't planned on that route anyway. There isn't a whole lot of choice going east. Steve and I looked at a web cam of the McKenzie River route and I almost decided to just take the interstate to Portland and go along hte Columbia River as there was some snow at the higher elevaton near the pass. But, then I just decided to go for it since I really did not want to go north at that point.
Mostly, it was OK, although the roads definitely did get snow-covered and "chains or traction tires" were advised. I drove very conservatively and was glad to get to Sisters.
From there, I headed east-northeast through high desert country, much of it rugged and scenic, with a few widely-spaced small towns, ranches, massive rock formations, winding roads and national forests. The skies were grey and the wind continued blowing tumbleweeds across the road.
I got to the mid-Oregon town of John Day while it was still light and had horrid nachos in a restaurant across the street from the marginal motel. I only ate a bit of them, took the rest to the motel and left it there the next morning. There was only one other gentleman in the restaurant, also eating by himself. And no wine....
Hendriks is a wonderful and large city park, about 75 acres, and 25% of it has hundreds of rhododendrons and an area of native plants; the remainder is native trees like Douglas Firs and Big-Leaf Maples. Some rhodies were already in full and glorious bloom and others had buds soon to open. I saw several Varied Thrushes working through some grass, just like Robins do. I spotted a RC Kinglet and even saw the tiny red slit on the head and then saw a chickadee which turned out to be a Chestnut-backed Chickadee, a bird I had never seen before! It was very windy and I think the presence of so many birds was partly a fall-out. Usually it is difficult to even see birds here because there is so much cover, and the trees are gigantic, but earlier I had seen Song Sparrows (darker and rustier than those I see in Michigan), many twitchy Ruby-crowned Kinglets and Black-capped Chickadees.
Small branches were littering the ground from the srong wind, which Steve said was not that common.
Andree called to say an oil truck had overturned four miles west of Oakridge and that major road across the Cascades was closed, but I hadn't planned on that route anyway. There isn't a whole lot of choice going east. Steve and I looked at a web cam of the McKenzie River route and I almost decided to just take the interstate to Portland and go along hte Columbia River as there was some snow at the higher elevaton near the pass. But, then I just decided to go for it since I really did not want to go north at that point.
Mostly, it was OK, although the roads definitely did get snow-covered and "chains or traction tires" were advised. I drove very conservatively and was glad to get to Sisters.
From there, I headed east-northeast through high desert country, much of it rugged and scenic, with a few widely-spaced small towns, ranches, massive rock formations, winding roads and national forests. The skies were grey and the wind continued blowing tumbleweeds across the road.
I got to the mid-Oregon town of John Day while it was still light and had horrid nachos in a restaurant across the street from the marginal motel. I only ate a bit of them, took the rest to the motel and left it there the next morning. There was only one other gentleman in the restaurant, also eating by himself. And no wine....
Saturday, March 10, 2012
On the Road: Susanville, California to Eugene, Oregon
It was now Wednesday and I missed arriving in Eugene to help celebrate Andree's 40th birthday party which was the day before. I had talked with Steve while driving through Sedona and thought briefly about trying to get there in time, but it was 1200 miles and they were going to a winery at 2 p.m. on Tuesday. No way could I make that.
It was sunny again, and I drove through a McDonald's for coffee but it was actually a Taco Bell (I THOUGHT I was at a McDonalds but obviously wasn't paying attention) so I ordered coffee there and then somehow it was also a Cinnabon place and I ordered four mini fried sugar-coated doughnut things with a vague lemony cream filling which, of course, were delicious. But as I was driving out I spotted an adjacent Starbucks so poured out my Taco Bell/Cinnabon drink and got Starbucks coffee.
The first 20 miles north of Susanville were very birdy: a pond with many assorted ducks, a large flock of Snow Geese, Western Meadowlarks, and a running-over-the-ground flock of California Quail. These are one of the quail species with that adorable little curved topknot feather on the top of their heads. They are about pigeon-sized and were hanging out near a farm field, frantically running here and there in a pack.
Maria, I thought of Debbie as I was headed mostly northwest and skirting Mt. Shasta with more majestic landscape and still some snow, Ponderosa pines and, every so often, a flash of blue as a Western Bluebird flew across the road. So the colors were: green, white, blue (sky and bird) and all the muted earthy colors of browns, reds, greys and yellows.
I was approaching the border between Oregon and California when I realized I was driving through the Modoc NWR and immediately there were eagles and hawks and cranes and ducks. I stopped and watched several Northern Harriers flying low over the marshes with their signature white rump patch, and then saw a larger bird, circling and soaring just to my right. I got very good looks and nothing was ringing a bell, so I went to the field guide, and it was a classic juvenile Golden Eagle with the white patches in the dark wings and dark terminal band on the still white tail....definitely another unforgettable moment of this trip. And, perched on irrigators on the other side of the road were at least six more eagles. The highway wasn't exactly the place for a spotting scope so I went on without positively identifying them as Balds or Goldens but I think both were present. A single Sandhill Crane flew right across the road in front of my car and a large flock of Snow Geese were in the fields. One more time.... these national / state refuges draw me in and are the true rest stops on a long trip.
After leaving Klamath Falls (where Steve and Andree lived for 2 years after his residency) I drove north until I could head to Eugene over the Cascades. It was still sunny with blue skies. The firs, cedars, pines and hemlocks in Oregon are three times the height of comparable Michigan evergreens and, as there was still quite a bit of snow at higher elevations, it was (what adjective haven't I used??) one more very lovely drive. The air was fragrant and cool, but the sun so strong that the snow-melt on the road was steaming. I followed a huge hay-hauling truck down the mountain at 20 mph as there were still some icy spots, and the road was all down hill with hairpin curves for miles.
I got totally lost in Eugene, as the very first iPhone direction was a non-existent exit but after repeatedly pulling off and again consulting my iPhone from my "current location" and with some memories of a previous visit, I finally found the SODAs, relieved to not have to drive for several days.
I love their home and will write and send photos soon...
It was sunny again, and I drove through a McDonald's for coffee but it was actually a Taco Bell (I THOUGHT I was at a McDonalds but obviously wasn't paying attention) so I ordered coffee there and then somehow it was also a Cinnabon place and I ordered four mini fried sugar-coated doughnut things with a vague lemony cream filling which, of course, were delicious. But as I was driving out I spotted an adjacent Starbucks so poured out my Taco Bell/Cinnabon drink and got Starbucks coffee.
The first 20 miles north of Susanville were very birdy: a pond with many assorted ducks, a large flock of Snow Geese, Western Meadowlarks, and a running-over-the-ground flock of California Quail. These are one of the quail species with that adorable little curved topknot feather on the top of their heads. They are about pigeon-sized and were hanging out near a farm field, frantically running here and there in a pack.
Maria, I thought of Debbie as I was headed mostly northwest and skirting Mt. Shasta with more majestic landscape and still some snow, Ponderosa pines and, every so often, a flash of blue as a Western Bluebird flew across the road. So the colors were: green, white, blue (sky and bird) and all the muted earthy colors of browns, reds, greys and yellows.
I was approaching the border between Oregon and California when I realized I was driving through the Modoc NWR and immediately there were eagles and hawks and cranes and ducks. I stopped and watched several Northern Harriers flying low over the marshes with their signature white rump patch, and then saw a larger bird, circling and soaring just to my right. I got very good looks and nothing was ringing a bell, so I went to the field guide, and it was a classic juvenile Golden Eagle with the white patches in the dark wings and dark terminal band on the still white tail....definitely another unforgettable moment of this trip. And, perched on irrigators on the other side of the road were at least six more eagles. The highway wasn't exactly the place for a spotting scope so I went on without positively identifying them as Balds or Goldens but I think both were present. A single Sandhill Crane flew right across the road in front of my car and a large flock of Snow Geese were in the fields. One more time.... these national / state refuges draw me in and are the true rest stops on a long trip.
After leaving Klamath Falls (where Steve and Andree lived for 2 years after his residency) I drove north until I could head to Eugene over the Cascades. It was still sunny with blue skies. The firs, cedars, pines and hemlocks in Oregon are three times the height of comparable Michigan evergreens and, as there was still quite a bit of snow at higher elevations, it was (what adjective haven't I used??) one more very lovely drive. The air was fragrant and cool, but the sun so strong that the snow-melt on the road was steaming. I followed a huge hay-hauling truck down the mountain at 20 mph as there were still some icy spots, and the road was all down hill with hairpin curves for miles.
I got totally lost in Eugene, as the very first iPhone direction was a non-existent exit but after repeatedly pulling off and again consulting my iPhone from my "current location" and with some memories of a previous visit, I finally found the SODAs, relieved to not have to drive for several days.
I love their home and will write and send photos soon...
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