The highway through Willets is a bit noisy, with a lot of trucking traffic, as we discovered last night in our hotel room facing main street. Vroom. Vroom. It's not so much the cars that bother you as the logging trucks.
Today, we're driving through Northern California. Lots of trees and small towns that distinguish themselves by their collection of roadside kitsch. One of the kitschy places we did decide to stop at is the 'World Famous' Confusion Hill, near Piercy. It's a gaudy garish stop, originally set up in 1949 when most of these things cropped up to capitalize on auto tourism. So it has a very 'Route 66' feel to it. Aside from the overt signage, it has a playground and rest site, one million tacky trinkets for sale, including the "rare chipalope" (a close relation of the "jacakalope", I think).
Hey, they have a visitor's map on the wall, and - what the heck?! - someone from Saskatoon has already been here before. Go figure.
Anyway, the main attraction on Confusion Hill is the Gravity House. It's basically a house built crookedly on top of the slope of a steep hill. Still, when you get inside the building, you do get kind of dizzy and off-kilter. I think your brain is getting conflicting signals from your eyes and ears. Eyes are saying, "this is the horizon, therefore, this is up and that's down," and the balance centres in your ears are like, "no way, you're crazy. THIS is up and that's down." So your brain is busy going woo-woo-woo, what's happening? while you wobble around like a drunkard. It was pretty fun, actually. Sit in the gravity chair and get stuck there. Walk up the side of the walls.
There's plenty of other similar attractions in the area. There's the World!Famous! One Log House (yes, it's a house made out of a hollowed log). And Grandfather Tree. And this is apparently Bigfoot Country, with every kind of giant tacky woodcarving imaginable out front. Bears, Indians, lumberjacks, whirlygigs, and even Tolkien characters (?!).
We're already seeing signs for the "Trees of Mystery," which is quite a ways ahead. For some reason, that makes me laugh, because I think it sounds stupid. Stephen asks if I'd prefer "Trees of Death"? No. Not quite. But maybe "Trees of Danger." That might lure me in.
The coast is fogged in again today - we do stop at one beach. Unlike the sandy southern California beaches, this one is gray, made up of small pebbled rocks. Lots of waves crashing in, but it's quieter than I would have expected. We stood and watched for a while, then walked back to the car. Fortunately, Stephen noticed a big wave chasing us way up the beach, and we just barely escaped being soaked. Don't turn your back on the ocean - it's untrustworthy.
Redwood National and State Forest is a bit of a weird park in that the National and State parks overlap. There doesn't seem to be any entrance fee (I presume you'd have to pay for a camping permit), and the highway runs through the park, which is split into a north and a south wing.
We do divert onto the park's scenic byway, which takes you through the redwoods. Here's where you access most of the trailheads. We do get out and walk around for a bit. Yes, more big tall trees. Hello everyone, I'm on the forest moon of Endor. :-)
Very nice hiking trails - quite shady and pleasant temperature. You do have to watch your footing, due to all the tree roots, but it's a very nice quiet park.
Then we're driving on, through the town of Klamath, which is in between the parks. Okay, Klamath, I take it back about your Trees of Mystery. Totally worthwhile stop. Not so much for the trees (cause we didn't want to pay $15 for the tree cablecar ride), but for the giant tacky statue of Paul Bunyan and Babe the blue ox. Does anyone know the story? I don't think I do. Just that Paul's a big ol' lumberjack who likes to cut down trees. Well, he's big, anyway.
Anyway, we like tacky, so we stop. I'm standing underneath his giant foot, and then we hear this voice: "Hey, I see a redhead, posing for a picture under my foot."
OMG! It speaks! It moves! His giant statue hand is doing the Queen's wave (you know, the little wrist twist). His big eyeball is slowly winking closed. Stephen and I are laughing and wondering if he can hear us? Yes, he can, apparently. Paul Bunyan asks where we're from; we explain that we're from Saskatchewan, where there aren't that many trees for him to cut down. He figures we must have a village or two that he can visit. We're having a conversation with a giant plaster statue. That's a bit unusual.
Sadly, Babe the Blue Ox does not say anything. I think it would be a nice touch if it occasionally made some sort of T-Rex style roar. And then just watch those tourists jump!
Well, since Paul Bunyan lured us in, we go inside the gift shop and buy a pound of fudge (you know, emergency supplies, in case we get lost in the woods and need sustenance).
Once we're back on the road, we're driving through the second wing of the park for a last look at the Redwoods and we're heading on towards Oregon. But first, a pit stop in Crescent City for gas & food. We stop at a Burger King, order our food in a Medium, and when it arrives, we're surprised at the size of the drink. "This is a medium?" Stephen says. "No wonder they're all--" I cut him off: "Don't say it!"
As we're driving out of the state, Hotel California is playing on the radio, but contrary to what the song says, we really can leave. Although, we have been in California for a quite while now. Big state. ("I'm bigger!" Texas yells. "Everything is bigger here!" Sorry, Texas. Next time.)
Out of the land of mysterious trees, and into the land of mysterious gas pumps. Did you know that according to Oregon state law, you are not allowed to pump your own gas. No! It's not safe! Only a highly trained technician can fill your car with gasoline. How you've managed to do it yourself all these years without accidentally immolating yourself or turning your vehicle into a giant fireball, we'll never know. But Oregon is not going to take that chance. Stephen tries to break the law by filling up his own car, but the gas jockey beats him to the pump.
Further down the Interstate, there was a grass fire ahead of us; it shut down the highway for a while. All the traffic signs were warning us of long delays. Fortunately, by the time we got there, the firefighters had put it out, leaving charred embankments on both sides of the highway, and traffic back up three lanes solid for over 5 miles on the OTHER side of the highway. Whew! I feel sorry for you poor sad suckers, but better you than me.
It's night time by the time we reach Portland, and it looks very nice at night. At least it has pretty lights. And a kickass system of overpasses, from the looks of it.
However, we are snubbing Oregon and staying just across the river in Vancouver, Washington. We snag the second-last room available in the hotel. The guide book in our hotel room tells us to "Discover the Original - Vancouver USA". Methinks someone feels a wee bit overshadowed. You guys think you have it bad? Ask Las Vegas, New Mexico, how it feels.
:-)
Today, we're driving through Northern California. Lots of trees and small towns that distinguish themselves by their collection of roadside kitsch. One of the kitschy places we did decide to stop at is the 'World Famous' Confusion Hill, near Piercy. It's a gaudy garish stop, originally set up in 1949 when most of these things cropped up to capitalize on auto tourism. So it has a very 'Route 66' feel to it. Aside from the overt signage, it has a playground and rest site, one million tacky trinkets for sale, including the "rare chipalope" (a close relation of the "jacakalope", I think).
Hey, they have a visitor's map on the wall, and - what the heck?! - someone from Saskatoon has already been here before. Go figure.
 |
| Batgirl hanging from the ceiling |
There's plenty of other similar attractions in the area. There's the World!Famous! One Log House (yes, it's a house made out of a hollowed log). And Grandfather Tree. And this is apparently Bigfoot Country, with every kind of giant tacky woodcarving imaginable out front. Bears, Indians, lumberjacks, whirlygigs, and even Tolkien characters (?!).
We're already seeing signs for the "Trees of Mystery," which is quite a ways ahead. For some reason, that makes me laugh, because I think it sounds stupid. Stephen asks if I'd prefer "Trees of Death"? No. Not quite. But maybe "Trees of Danger." That might lure me in.
The coast is fogged in again today - we do stop at one beach. Unlike the sandy southern California beaches, this one is gray, made up of small pebbled rocks. Lots of waves crashing in, but it's quieter than I would have expected. We stood and watched for a while, then walked back to the car. Fortunately, Stephen noticed a big wave chasing us way up the beach, and we just barely escaped being soaked. Don't turn your back on the ocean - it's untrustworthy.
We do divert onto the park's scenic byway, which takes you through the redwoods. Here's where you access most of the trailheads. We do get out and walk around for a bit. Yes, more big tall trees. Hello everyone, I'm on the forest moon of Endor. :-)
Very nice hiking trails - quite shady and pleasant temperature. You do have to watch your footing, due to all the tree roots, but it's a very nice quiet park.
Then we're driving on, through the town of Klamath, which is in between the parks. Okay, Klamath, I take it back about your Trees of Mystery. Totally worthwhile stop. Not so much for the trees (cause we didn't want to pay $15 for the tree cablecar ride), but for the giant tacky statue of Paul Bunyan and Babe the blue ox. Does anyone know the story? I don't think I do. Just that Paul's a big ol' lumberjack who likes to cut down trees. Well, he's big, anyway.
OMG! It speaks! It moves! His giant statue hand is doing the Queen's wave (you know, the little wrist twist). His big eyeball is slowly winking closed. Stephen and I are laughing and wondering if he can hear us? Yes, he can, apparently. Paul Bunyan asks where we're from; we explain that we're from Saskatchewan, where there aren't that many trees for him to cut down. He figures we must have a village or two that he can visit. We're having a conversation with a giant plaster statue. That's a bit unusual.
Sadly, Babe the Blue Ox does not say anything. I think it would be a nice touch if it occasionally made some sort of T-Rex style roar. And then just watch those tourists jump!
Well, since Paul Bunyan lured us in, we go inside the gift shop and buy a pound of fudge (you know, emergency supplies, in case we get lost in the woods and need sustenance).
Once we're back on the road, we're driving through the second wing of the park for a last look at the Redwoods and we're heading on towards Oregon. But first, a pit stop in Crescent City for gas & food. We stop at a Burger King, order our food in a Medium, and when it arrives, we're surprised at the size of the drink. "This is a medium?" Stephen says. "No wonder they're all--" I cut him off: "Don't say it!"
As we're driving out of the state, Hotel California is playing on the radio, but contrary to what the song says, we really can leave. Although, we have been in California for a quite while now. Big state. ("I'm bigger!" Texas yells. "Everything is bigger here!" Sorry, Texas. Next time.)
Out of the land of mysterious trees, and into the land of mysterious gas pumps. Did you know that according to Oregon state law, you are not allowed to pump your own gas. No! It's not safe! Only a highly trained technician can fill your car with gasoline. How you've managed to do it yourself all these years without accidentally immolating yourself or turning your vehicle into a giant fireball, we'll never know. But Oregon is not going to take that chance. Stephen tries to break the law by filling up his own car, but the gas jockey beats him to the pump.
Further down the Interstate, there was a grass fire ahead of us; it shut down the highway for a while. All the traffic signs were warning us of long delays. Fortunately, by the time we got there, the firefighters had put it out, leaving charred embankments on both sides of the highway, and traffic back up three lanes solid for over 5 miles on the OTHER side of the highway. Whew! I feel sorry for you poor sad suckers, but better you than me.
It's night time by the time we reach Portland, and it looks very nice at night. At least it has pretty lights. And a kickass system of overpasses, from the looks of it.
However, we are snubbing Oregon and staying just across the river in Vancouver, Washington. We snag the second-last room available in the hotel. The guide book in our hotel room tells us to "Discover the Original - Vancouver USA". Methinks someone feels a wee bit overshadowed. You guys think you have it bad? Ask Las Vegas, New Mexico, how it feels.
:-)
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