Saturday, March 30, 2013

It's the Bomb

Today we moseyed to Port Angeles (about 15 miles from Sequim) and saw:
The yarn shop's Easter display with knitting Peeps;

 Fifteen welded iron sculptures called Avenue of The People;

A Farmer's Market;

Yarn Bombing (when people sneak in and put knitted accessories on public statues or fixtures);

The Girl of His Dreams;

A swell intersection;

Strait of Juan de Fuca;

Columbus spots Canada;

Spring has arrived.
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Thursday, March 28, 2013

Johnny's Brother


I don't know what these stunners are called but they seem to grow in low wet areas. 

We went for a little exploratory drive and found ourselves at the nearby casino. 
We each had a $5 slot machine coupon.  That didn't take long.
Lunch was the only successful part of our visit.  Darn. 
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Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Sittin' By The Duke on the Bay


In 1975 John Wayne donated 22 acres of pristine Sequim Bay land on which to build a marina.
  He was a frequent visitor aboard the family yacht, the "Wild Goose." 
There is a collection of memorabilia on display to remind us what a cool guy he was.
Ain't it purty?
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Sunday, March 24, 2013

Flattery will get you to the edge of America

The most northwestern point in the lower forty-eight is at the end of the Cape Flattery Trail,
and worth every step through the forest. 
 I'm going to skip the thousand words and let you look at the pictures in peace.
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Saturday, March 23, 2013

Do you know the way to Neah Bay?

Friday we drove along the tippy-top of the Olympic Peninsula.

I can see Canada from here!  That is Vancouver Island across the bay.

Spanish explorers landed in Neah Bay in 1791 and today it is home to the Makah Indian Reservation and headquarters.  Tons of fish come from this region, including ling cod, sea bass and salmon, but it is mostly known for the best halibut in the lower 48 states.
Our timing was good because the sun shone all day.  They get an average rainfall of 110 inches.  That's over 9 feet!  Fill your living room with water and see how you like it.  

What?  Tsunami? 
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Wednesday, March 20, 2013

How do you get to Carnegie Hall

Look what Al's sisters sent as his belated 70th birthday gift!
He calls it "a bobblehead for a bubblehead."

We've just been doing ordinary things, settling into life on the Olympic Peninsula.  Last night we went to a concert of the Port Angeles High School string orchestra, before they go to New York to perform at Carnegie Hall on Sunday.   Amazing how many kids are interested in music.  And how good they are. And how many hours the parents have to listen to the practice, practice, practice.

Happy Vernal Equinox!
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Friday, March 15, 2013

Three Bridges and a Dome


Thursday we motored to Tacoma for an RV show, where we saw dozens of new models
but wouldn't trade any of them for our very own Home Sweet Homer.
The highlight of the day was a delicious dinner with the entertaining company of
Jack (Amery High School '66) and Jeni.
  The little sliver of a moon led us the 90 minutes home,
but stubbornly refused to have a good picture taken.  Darn.
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Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Port Townsend

The day began with all the hooking-up involved to get on the road but we only journeyed a few miles to the RV shop so Homer could get the regular physical.  He found a cousin there, which was fun because we don't see many other Cameos.  (Did you know that they went out of business not long after we bought ours?  Hmmm.)

First stop was the Sequim library where Al has a temporary card.

We couldn't go home (home was in the shop - how many people can say that?) so went to Port Townsend, which is a charming little town to the East of Sequim.  It has a classic main street with old buildings;  (why is the yarn shop in the forefront of this shot?)   

beautiful old houses;

traditional old churches;

Hog wings at the Public House;

fish and chips;

thousands of trees.  Thousands.

  Homer got a clean bill of health, a couple of tiny problems were fixed and now we're back in the RV park, resettled and snug.  Neither of us have any right to be hungry, but it's time for dinner.  That dinner right next door is a place we haven't tried yet . . . . .
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