Meandering Moments by Elsi

Oh, I do like being at Oregon Christian Writers! The whole area is accessible for me (except a few upstairs rooms in one building); I’m camped on-site, so I can participate in everything that goes on. I can eat most of the meals, too. 
 I know a lot  of the people here, so there are familiar faces all around me, even when I don’t recall names. And some so-very-special friends: Sandy Cathcart, Sue Miholer, my Shannie and her British Columbia friends and family, Debbie Rempel who came down to the campground just to pat Dolphin, Hillary Lodge who will come later to pat Lady as well … I shouldn’t have started listing names, but …

This feels like a God-place, with wonderful times of worship, good classes and workshops, friendly people, good listeners, and moments of utter hilarity, as when we were privileged to a brief concert by Pat Rushford and … the Rejections! They sang two old favorites:Goin’ to the conference, and I’m gonna get published! (to the tune of “Goin’ to the Chapel of Love” and “Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be writers!”

Thank You, Lord! 

Sunday was a laid back, accomplishing nothing day. Quite restful, actually! And today is the first day of the Oregon Christian Writers Summer Conference! I’ve dumped my holding tanks, taken my shower … Lady is reminding me she hasn’t had her walkie yet … and then we head north a couple of hours to Canby Grove. I’ll be bringing some book proposals to editors, learning a lot in my classes, and soaking up the atmosphere that is unique to Christian writers conferences: there’s just something about being surrounded by people of prayer who also love words … marvelous!

It’s been a day thronged with surprises! I started out in a steady drizzle, heading for Ecola State Park in Cannon Beach. Everything I read said the view’s magnificent, and I wasn’t about to let a little rain stop me.  Nor, I’m ashamed to admit, did I let a little warning sign deter me: Not recommended for trailers. Well, I’m not a trailer, I told myself, and drove on in. Narrow … twisting … poor visibility … almost no shoulders … steep … winding … tight … please, Lord, don’t let me meet another RV! He protected me, and I made it to the overlook, which was, of course, foggy. I took a few pictures and managed to get back out again without major incident. The tension in my shoulders went away after a few hours.

Mid-day I rode the Oregon Coast Scenic Railroad, half an hour from Rockaway Beach to Garibaldi and back. Such fun—I do like tourist trains! However, it was pouring rain during the first leg, and we ended up pretty much soaked. Nonetheless, I got some pictures, enjoyed my four-year-old Korean seatmate (”Thomas! Train!”), and soaked up the smell of the smoke from the engine. Purrrrrrr.

And this evening I’ve landed at the Lincoln City KOA, where I found a friend who worked (four years ago!) at Elk Meadow RV Park in Estes Park! Small world …

I joined the Corps of Discovery yesterday! The leaders, Meriwether Lewis and George Clark, were inexplicably absent—no doubt on a hunting expedition, or seeking out flora and fauna to report to President Jefferson. But I worked with other members of the group to learn about the area.

We are near the mouth of the Columbia River, at the home of the Clatsop Indians. Fort Clatsop, the winter residence has been called. It is small but cozy, providing shelter and comfort for the 33 members of the group, including the Indiana woman Sacagawea and her little boy. As it was Christmas, the men were at leisure. When I arrived in the morning, a French trader, Sally, was twanging away at a mouth harp, while trapper Matt mended his breeches as he sang Nova Scotian sea songs. Larry was in the captains’ quarters, discussing Captain Lewis’s journals with visitors. They all came outside later to fire a celebratory volley in honor of Christmas Day (my calendar indicates it was July 25 rather than December, but calendars are not fully dependable).

Then Ranger Maren led a group to Netul’s landing. discussing flora (though no fauna): red alder, sitka spruce, sword fern, and horsetail grass. We admired the hand-made canoes and the newly restored tidal area.Most of the party walked, but I had a sturdy steed named Scooter. At the close of my visit I checked him back in and returned to my mighty Moose. for a restful afternoon, what seafarers refer to as “make and mend.” 

Just up the road from my KOA is Newport’s Oregon Coast Aquarium. At the ticket desk, I read the sign offering wheelchairs and strollers and asked wistfully, “I don’t suppose you have electric carts for rent, do you?”

 “Why, of course!” she said. She added $10 to my bill, gave me a AAA discount, and agreed that my being too young for their senior discount meant I’m really still young. The woman who brought the cart out asked me to wait, please, while they checked something … there was a passenger … a critter … turned out it was a small garter snake, and it had leapt off as they drove the cart out of the storage area. So I told her I like snakes, and rolled away!

I saw the king crabs, the rays … all sorts of strange creatures, with blown-glass decorations in the water with them. Fell in love with the jellyfish. Yeah, I know, they’re poisonous. But they’re so beautiful! I rolled on, quoting Psalm 148 as I went:

Praise the LORD! Praise the LORD from the heavens; Praise Him in the heights! … Praise the LORD from the earth, Sea monsters and all deeps; Fire and hail, snow and clouds; Stormy wind, fulfilling His word; Mountains and all hills … Young men and maidens together; Old men and children. Let them praise the name of the LORD, For His name alone is exalted; His glory is above earth and heaven. … Praise the LORD!

I went through the Orford Reef tunnel, with fish and sharks swimming all around me, even under my feet (I mean, wheels)! Then I rolled down the nature trail, looking out the overlooks and enjoying the dinosaur-type ferns. I enjoyed the octopus—fascinating to watch him use his little suction cups to move across the window!

And then … the aviary. Shore birds and sea birds, of course. And my favorites are the puffins, though I enjoyed the guillemots, too, because they remind me of Alaska. I quoted my puffin poem to the volunteer by the puffins, and she loved it! So did the clerk in the gift shop. So I emailed the words to Candy Torney, the gift shop manager, saying I thank God for the people there. She responded, “Thank you so much for your kind words about your visit to our aquarium!  We are so glad you had an enjoyable time!    I wanted to let you know that your Puffin poem has been circulating around the aquarium today, and you gave my friend a smile who was having a hard day a smile and a chuckle.  Elsi, thank you for being the type of person that took the time to compliment the people here.   I hope your travels bring you much joy and happiness. I will include you in my prayers and ask God to watch out and send many helpful people your way.” Isn’t the Lord good to send me Christians along the way?

I had  an enormous bag of goodies when I left the gift shop, and a young man named Bryn offered to carry it to my RV for me. I accepted with pleasure and glee, and he went clear to the parking lot and patted Lady before leaving. He even kept Dolphin from exiting (he so loves to roll on the asphalt!). Bryn is headed, next week, for the California Redwoods—on his honeymoon! Such a nice young man! 

Puffin (by Florence Page Jaques) {I was maybe five when I learned this}

Oh, there once was a Puffin just the shape of a muffin,

And he lived on an island in the bright blue sea!

He ate little fishes, that were most delicious,

And he had them for supper  and he had them for tea.

But this poor little Puffin, he couldn’t play nothin’,

For he hadn’t anybody to play with at all.

So he sat on his island, and he cried for awhile, and

He felt very lonely, and he felt very small.

Then along came the fishes, and they said, “If you wishes,

You can have us for playmates, instead of for tea!”

So they now play together, in all sorts of weather,

And the Puffin eats pancakes, like you and like me.

A long, long time ago, just about five decades back, in fact, a happy family went on a northwest vacation.

The mommy wore skirts, because that’s what ladies did, back then. She carried a purse big enough for the daddy’s camera accessories, and she loved to sing songs and play games. She cooked wonderful dinners in the trailer each night: steak, or burgers, or lobster, or broiled chicken, with vegetables and salad, and dessert, too. 

The daddy planned the trip in advance. He used maps and tour guides and made sure the happy family didn’t miss anything interesting along the way. And he took pictures of all the things they did, so they could remember the fun they had. He wasn’t much of a singer, but he played car games on the road, and card games in the trailer at night.

The little girl had her very own Brownie Star camera, a gift on her eighth birthday. She was very careful to take good pictures, remembering to wind the film forward each time, because she had to pay for the film herself. She loved to see new things, and she sang with her mommy and played games with her mommy and daddy, and cuddled with her book and a light blanket in the backseat when there wasn’t anything interesting going on.

On this northwest vacation, the family was trying to see every single memorial to Sacagawea that there was. And there were a lot of statues and signs and drawings. “Check it off!” the mommy would say, when they found another one. And they would mark it in the trip notebook, along with all the state license plates they found, and how many other trailers they passed, and how much they spent on gas.

The daddy had found a sea lion cave on the Oregon coast. The cave had been opened to tourists in 1932. In 1958, when the family was there, you walked along a 1500-foot-long trail, and then climbed down 135 stairs on the side of the cliff. The little girl counted the stairs as they went down them, to see if the sign was right. It was.

And then … suddenly … you were inside the cave! You could look out at the ocean. And between you and the ocean were rocks, and the rocks were covered with sea lions! It was a big cave, about 2 acres, the daddy said.The sea lions swam in and out the opening. There were signs asking you not to bother them. 

The daddy took lots and lots of pictures, working with his light meter and different lenses, as well as something called f-stops that the little girl didn’t understand. She didn’t take pictures of the cave and the sea lions, because her film wasn’t fast enough. But she took a picture of a mummy sea lion, on the floor inside a little fence. It had been there since the cave was first discovered in 1880. 

After a while they all went back up the 135 steps to the top. They bought the little girl a toy sea lion, and got back in their car and went on with their vacation. It had been a fun stop.

Today I went back to the Sea Lion Caves in Florence, Oregon. The owners have installed an elevator to take people down the 208 feet to sea level, for which I was profoundly grateful. Even so, the 20 or so steps down and the 200 yard walk were hard on me … and going back up was almost impossible. I arrived at the top (25 minutes after leaving the elevator) gasping for air and with my hip throbbing.

But I had taken pictures of the sea lions, sitting and lying on their rocks. I’d heard their rasping barks, smiled at the little ones, stared in awe at the big bull. I’d greeted the mummy, taken pictures of the surf and Hecata Lighthouse just down the beach, and bought postcards in the gift shop.

A fellow tourist asked me, “Was it worth it?” “Absolutely!” I told her. What fun!

I rode the Salem Carousel today! First I rode Morning Glory—it’s all regular horses, except for one zebra and one unicorn. The horses were made in Salem, Oregon, hand-painted there, and are maintained there. So every horse has a story. Morning Glory refers to the glorious morning when Christ returns, riding a white horse.  Later, in the gift shop, I discovered they have a horse named American Flyer. Well! My train set was an American Flyer (and we were quite scornful about people who had Lionel). A. C. Gilbert, who made the American Flyer trains, and who also invented the Erector Set, lived in Salem. So I wanted to ride that horse, but he’s on furlough (in the shop, being refinished, apparently). Oh, well …  So we went to the Gilbert Children’s Museum instead, seeing all sorts of wonderful teaching opportunities—such fun!  And then supper at my friend Jane Compton’s house—all in all, a friendly, enjoyable day! 

One slice of bread:

Up about 6, wrote postcards and showered, and headed out about 8:50, leaving my postcards to be mailed by the girl at the exit gate. She hadn’t heard of North Cascades National Park, nor could she read a map, but she pointed the direction I should turn, and I drove away with confidence.

What a beautiful, glorious area! I drove up and up, stopping at a rest area along the way to enjoy the river. No entrance fee for the park, and volunteers at the visitor center. I wandered a 300-yard, boardwalk trail to see the Pickett Range, and found myself humming “Green Cathedral,” which I haven’t sung since probably high school. In the little museum, I sidled behind a woman and her about-seven-year-old son. When she saw me, she cautioned the boy, “Watch out! There’s a person using a mobility aid!”

Filling:

And then I headed back west, aiming for I-5 to go south to my campground. I drove I-5 and I-405 from above Seattle to below Tacoma, about 130 miles in about five hours! Bumper to bumper, slow and go and stop and slow, the entire way. A long and hideous afternoon! I did pull off twice, once to grab a nap because I was falling asleep—that was at a closed weigh station. I woke up when a semi pulled in next to me, effectively blocking me in. So I got out and said to the driver, “Are you staying long?” He stared at me. “No, I’m scaling!” Turns out you can park on the scale and read your weight through the window … The other stop was in Lacey, where I had supper in a Knights of Columbus Hall parking lot. Yawn, moan, whimper, and back on the road again!

Other slice of bread:

Eventually I got on US 101, the Pacific Coast Highway. Beautiful scenery, clear roads, and a wonderful two-hour drive to my KOA campground in Bay Center, which is on a bay (duh) and smells delightfully of salt and clams. 

Oh, my goodness! I just got back from an evening with the Cirque de Soleil. What an evening it was!

Let’s get the negatives out of the way: First, it didn’t start till 8 p.m., ran two-and-a-half hours, and is in Vancouver, an hour from Shannie’s home. So we pulled back in just after midnight, and I’m a bit of a zombie right now. Second, there was an utterly silly and almost incomprehensible plot line, involving a clown who dreamed his funeral, and lots of useless angels swinging around from the ceiling.

Now, set those aside. The music was okay; the costumes were colorful; the staging was fascinating. And the acrobatics—oh, my goodness! Trampolines, balancing, juggling, tumbling, any and every type of acrobatic act you can imagine was done, close to the audience and close to the ground, with skill and aplomb.

I clapped my hands and shoulders sore, shouted and called out in astonishment, was absolutely entranced by the skill shown. It was almost unbelievable.

The midgets were clever, and the giant was impressive … and the acrobats were top quality and memorable. What a sight! What skill! What a wonderful Lord who gave those men and women their abilities!

I plan my trips quite carefully, working with AAA maps, suggestions from friends, and MapQuest in order to have the best route. I type my itinerary and print it out, so I can refer to it as I drive: “North I-25 to Buffalo, WY,” said the first day’s plan. “Camp, Buffalo KOA, exit 299, just past I-25’s joining with I-90.” That way I always know where I am, and where I’m going. Now I’ve added Tomi (my Tom-Tom GPS navigator) to my trip-planning arsenal. I type in the city or address where I’m headed, and she keeps me updated on forthcoming turns, potential concerns along the road (”ahead, stay left; then go straight on”), and how many miles I still have to go. Yesterday, however, I had a new experience. Usually I have precise directions to Sumas, where I generally cross into Canada. However, I hadn’t copied those from last year’s visit, and my instructions from Shannie in Canada started with, “Cross at Sumas as usual and …” So, at a rest stop just south of Bellingham, WA, I looked at the map, shrugged, and asked Tomi to get me to Sumas. Which she did, though not by the route that seemed most sensible on my state map. However, I gritted my teeth, put the map down, and followed her directions. Wending my way along country roads, I had some doubts, I will admit. There was some comfort in having a big semi on my tail; surely he was going to the same place, eh? So I set my doubts and intellect aside and let Tomi tell me where to turn, when to bear to the right, and so forth, until … ta da! I saw the sign that said, “Sumas: Canadian Customs.” We had done it! How similar, I said to myself later, is that experience to walking with the Lord as my guide. Generally, when I know about what I’m going to do, He leads me or helps me along the way.  If I get pig-headed and go off on my own route, He gently guides me back, just like Tomi does. When I’m just trying to do His will and not think about it, I get nervous, have doubts, check for confirmation other places. And yet, the Lord knows what I should be doing. If I would just obediently follow His directions, how much better off I would  be!  In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps. (Proverbs 16:9)