Turns out, there were a lot of people at the school interested in going to see the total solar eclipse (some of whom we actually saw and waved at on the road), which would be the last one visible on the North American mainland for several years, even decades, if the astronomers are to be believed. Not least of these wannabe-eclipse-watchers were me, the Sainted Bride (Sainted but not yet Bride at the time) and two friends, "Ian" and "Nanook" (not their real names, um, obviously).
So in advance of the eclipse we made our plans, including reservations at a campground at The Dalles in Oregon, which we chose as being right in the middle of the swath the total eclipse umbra would cut across the continent. We drafted out our travel plans, which included a quick stop at my family's ranch to borrow some camping equipment (we were poor college students) and visit briefly with my extended family, then cutting away from I-5 north of Redding to zip up US 97 past the Lava Beds National Monument (central to one of the most tragic and ironic American Indian stories of all time), to stay the night on the road, then continue past Crater Lake (to be ignored this trip) and on up to the Columbia River and Interstate 84, which we planned to take westward to the Dalles and our campground.
Nice plan. Didn't quite happen that way.
First off, out at the ranch I got stupid and took the crew on a road trip, off road on our private dirt roads. In the pink Jeep (so-called because it was more-or-less the old Crayola "Fleshtone" color). It was a very old Jeep of Korean War vintage (as my Uncle Jack used to say, it was worn out when he got it [1961] and worse now). Our good friend Nanook wanted to drive and he bounced it around on the rocks for far too long (and far too roughly for a worn out Jeep). Anyway, we FINALLY got back on the road. And couldn't find a good place to camp. So we continued on until we finally found a county park somewhere around the Klamath River in Oregon and crashed.
Lesson learned: 'Tis better to just go ahead and pitch a tent in February in snow than to try to cover yourself with a blanket in a car seat. Ian and Nanook slept warmer than SB and I did. Just sayin'.
Anyhoo, we woke much farther along the road than we'd expected to be at that time so the entire crew voted and decided that we could afford to take a side trip to Crater Lake. So we did. Again, nice idea, bad decision. We detoured off Highway 97 to see Crater Lake. We saw, through the fog and poor weather, about 15 square feet of the lake. Nonetheless, we bucked up, had some hot chocolate at the ski lodge, then hit the open road again.
Except the road from the lake back to Highway 97 was anything but open. It was ice-bound. In patches. We would put the chains on the car for a little while, then take them off for a while, then put them back on. The upshot? We wasted all (and then some) of the time we'd made up the night before, and finally hit the Columbia River about 10:00 that night at Biggs, Oregon. We tried to call our intended campground (another 50 or 60 miles away) but got no answer and were wondering what we should do when someone mentioned that the rule in Oregon (then, don't know if it's still true) is that you can just camp anywhere you want in public parks. So we parked in a county park on the bank of the Columbia, made us some Hot Toddies and Irish Coffees, then bedded down for the night.
Next morning, we got up and (since it was pretty crowded where we were) headed across the Columbia into Washington toward Goldendale. We picked a nice spot just off the road where we could park and watch the eclipse. It was a memorable experience. As totality neared, we saw a herd of cows begin to head for home because it was getting dark (hence, the reference to "moo"). We watched through Mylar plastic the entire spectacle. And as the totality ended and the (mostly) darkness began to fade, the cattle made a u-turn and went back to feeding.
Irony alert: After all our misadventures, we ended up at the only spot in the continental U.S. which was not socked in by fog or overcast (unlike many of our compatriots from UCSC and elsewhere). Even The Dalles, our original destination and to which some of our compatriots went, was socked in so that these folds saw little more than a darkening of the overcast sky. We had a magnificent view of the whole thing. Eat our eclipse dust, compatriots! [/schadenfreude]
And a good time was had by
Almost. Now comes the potential drug bust part. See, we had California plates on the car. This, of course, is a MAJOR red flag in Oregon and Washington. And, of course, we were "stopped and frisked" by the Washington State Police. Well, no real frisking, but they did stop to talk to us and search the car. And unfortunately, Nanook (who owned the car) had a teeny-tiny little self-carved hash pipe. No dope, just the pipe. But it had been used at some point, as attested by the WSP's drug dog (as they helpfully informed us). Also unfortunately, Nanook had some prescription medicine in its plastic bottle, into which he had also tossed some aspirin (a "violation of federal drug laws" according to the WSP). But they were reasonable guys and after confiscating the hash pipe (and scolding us college students for alleged federal trangressions) let us go.
And down the road we went, back across the Columbia to I-84, thence west to I-5, and thence south to freedom. At sometimes breakneck speeds. And I learned that despite my proclivities for speed and speeding tickets, I was the slowest driver in the car (including the SB).
But the story doesn't end there, oh no. I still have to explain the title of the post.
It being a long trip, we needed to make at least one stop. And we did so in the booming metropolis of Weed, California. This was on a Monday night, at a small café just off I-5. It being a Monday night in the booming metropolis of Weed, this particular café had one hostess and one waitress on duty. Unfortunately, being the evening of the day on which HALF THE FREAKIN' STATE OF CALIFORNIA HAD GONE TO SEE THE ECLIPSE, this poor café was overwhelmed with all those nutjob Californians driving back from Oregon. We took pity on the poor, overwhelmed waitress and hostess and we helped to pour coffee and bus tables. Doing our good deeds, as it were. The good ladies did appreciate our help, but after several hours we really needed to say our goodbyes, fill up the Thermos with coffee, and hit the road again.
The Lovely Waitress took the Thermos back to fill it up, and a few minutes later came out to the hostess with a horrified look on her face, and said "I broke their Thermos." Poor gal was exhausted and ready to fall over, so we declined her offer of paying for it (being the decent folk we are) and went across the street to the general store to pick up a new one. This store had a large, lighted sign outside which read:
LIQUOR STORE
EATS
SPORTING GOODS
Pretty cool. Even got a mention (after sending it in, of course) in one of this guy's books. Well, the Lovely Waitress filled up our jug with coffee and profuse thanks, we headed on down I-5 again, making a brief stop to drop off to borrowed camping gear, and Let it Roll on Down the Highway. We made it home safely despite Nanook driving (thankfully while I was asleep, but I heard about it after) 80-90 MPH over Highway 17. Crazy bastard. But we still loves him anyway.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it. So how was your eclipse?
8 comments:
Do I get three guesses as to the identities of "Ian" and "Nanook"? :)
That is a great story. I wish i had more fun like that while in college. I was too cautious and failed to see the fun in an adventure like that...poor me.
Took my first (and, unfortunately, probably last) trip to Crater Lake last summer. Beautiful country out that way.
I was pretty close to where you watched from, but a few miles farther west on property some friends of my family owned. Those hills don't look as high as they are - it's pretty close to 2,000 feet above the river. So where there's fog down in The Dalles, it's apt to be clear up there. In any case, we had a perfect view.
February 26, 1979. I saw it in a little town named Portage la Prairie, Manitoba. I'll be doing a post on the thirtieth anniversary of that, including some recently found photos I took through my telescope(bless Mom for not throwing just throwing stuff away).
I was in college, in South Dakota, but I don't really remember it. In large part because the weather well and truly sucked that month. We'd just finished a major blizzard, where the campus heroes were two bozos that trekked through deep drifts and arctic conditions for a case of beer. So being outside to glimpse a partial solar eclipse was of low priority. Brrrrrr!!!
But you picked a nice spot indeed, Ken, as Joel notes. Being down in the Columbia Gorge during the winter is not conducive to solar observations.
And you were pretty lucky with the WSP; they were quite hardcore about drugs back then, as several of my classmates (not friends) found out, the hard way.
Oh, and here's a graphic of that solar eclipse. Pretty nice!
Great story. I love that sign. Reminds me of the first time I went to visit my aunt & uncle after they built a log cabin in upstate NY--I was a bit baffled by the sign outside the hardware store, listing the items on sale. . . and "party supplies in rear." I guess I had a picture in my head of big tough guys walking out with bags of hammers, nails, and crepe paper.
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