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#devastating the wild blackberry population here.
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carrying fresh picked berries around is way easier if you have a friend with a bigass skirt
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olympianpandback · 3 years
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May 10
We headed to Crater Lake fairly early because it is a 3 hour drive. It is always a scenic drive On the Volcano Scenic Byway.  We parked behind an RV from Alaska and the lady who was in that RV came up to talk to us about our RV. She has friends who are looking for a leisure travel Van. We head a nice long chat and went over to look at Crater Lake.  It's impossible to really describe and I am sure the pictures won't do justice for the sights we saw. There is still up to 8' of snow around the buildings.   We found a campground along a river that was nice and quiet until after we went to bed.  We had no idea about any train tracks somewhere near us, at least 4 trains rumbled through that were not very loud, except for the train whistle. We met our neighbors who are from Beaverton. He is a retired financial guy and his wife Faye finally retired from part time work at the church so they could travel. He was in the army from 59 through 61 and extended for a year because of the Berlin wall and the Cuban missile crisis. He was supposed to go to Germany but got a fever 3 days before the unit shipped out and the shipped unit out without him and 2 of his buddies. He never worked in his MOS (military occupation specialty), in artillery again. He spent 2 years in the active reserves and  2 years in the inactive reserves and got called back to active duty again. What a “lucky” guy. His wife worked as a ground crew member for American Airlines for 10 years then took a leave of absence for 5 years so she got credit for 15. They flew a lot to Europe mostly to France and travelled as much as they could on her D1 pass. The campground owner Steve has Scottish Highland cattle on his 140 acres because they eat the BlackBerry bushes and all the other brambles that no normal cattle will eat. He doesn't even have to feed them during the wintertime because they just disappear into the BlackBerry bushes and stay healthy during the weather. If he gets a male cow, they eat it. On the way to this campground South of Roseburg Oregon. we saw a great deal of devastation from recent for fires. It actually looks like it happened in the last year not later than 2 years. There is a lot of cleanup and trying to salvage usable lumber. We rounded one curve and there was the stump of a tree lying across the guardrail that was at least 2' in diameter that had just been cut out of the road not long ago from the looks of the cut. I can't imagine how long the delay had been before they got a crew out with the right equipment to move that log off the highway. Just another trip of discovery for us seeing such beautiful scenery and meeting so many nice people it's hard to describe in words or pictures.
May 11
We left mid-morning after another good conversation with Rich and Kay. We headed for the coast and got here midafternoon after stopping to get some to die for Apple walnut fritters at a local bakery. On the way here, we saw a spot that is called the Dean Creek Elk viewing area. Supposedly up to a 140 elk use this area as grazing ground. We didn't see any when we stopped on the way to the next campground. The campground is nice, but the bathrooms are closed and it's only private campgrounds that are having their bathrooms closed according to the host. We found out later that was probably a cop out to keep from cleaning them. This is an RV resort that people stay at year-round a lot of time. After dinner we went back to the elk viewing area Around 7:15 and saw about 40 or more cows grazing in the field. We hung around for about 20 more minutes hoping to see a bull, but none showed up. At least we can say we have seen elks and cross that off our list of wild animals. Tomorrow we head north a couple of hours to depot Bay. We hope to see some whales from the shore and will definitely take the 1 and 1/2 hour whale watching Tour, if we can book one.
May 12
On our way out of town we decided to go by the viewing place one more time period There were 40 or 50 cows out there but again no male elk. We headed North to Depoe Bay to try to do a whale watching cruise. We had checked with a campground just North of there who said their bathrooms were open. It was one of campgrounds in our group for big discounts. We drove there and found out that they had no cell phone signal. Even though I don't keep up with the blog as much as I would like to, we still need cell phone signal. We came back to town to another campground. Their bathrooms are open and it was a nice campground. They didn't offer a discount for veterans and I started to leave but Elizabeth wanted to stay there so we signed in. Marilyn gave us a 10% discount because I was such a nice man. Her words not mine. She also suggested a whale watching tour with a marine biologist area We were going to book a 12 o'clock tour, but we would have been on the boat for an hour and a 1/2 without anything to eat so we pushed it forward to the 10 o'clock tour. We got a text later saying that the 10 o'clock tour had been pushed up to 9:30 because they expected heavy seas that afternoon.
May 13 Whale watching trip
We were worried about a place to park the RV so we got there very early and parked in front of the jump off point. The leader was a very nice marine biologist who was passionate about her work we got a 15 minute lecture on whales before we went down to get on the boats . We got on the big boat which is a navy seal assault boat that had been retired. They asked who wanted to sit up front and we volunteered. It was a raw day and going to be cold and windy no matter where you were sitting. There are a group of whales come North from Mexico and hang around Depoe Bay while others continue on to the Alaskan water for feeding in the summer.ie Carry the biologist had named all the whales who stay around the area.  It was foggy and around 46 degrees when we left. Sees were chopping but not too bad at first.  We went buoy that had some sea lions on it. Then we meandered around following the other boat and listening for spotters looking for spouts. Carrie had also trained a dog that she rescued to smell the whale spouts which smell like the worst fart you've ever smelled and the dog Coda had been trained to detect those smells from an early age. Coda ran all around the boat from side to side and front to back sniffing the air, but we never saw a whale. We saw a lot of kelp and birds. The marine biologist says if we come back in August-September, the whales will be swimming up next to shore and we heard the same from locals later. So much for good timing. The Internet said whales should be here now!  We will head north trying to find some more whales because they only move at 4 miles per hour and we can overtake them. As we came back into the dock area we saw a mama seal and her baby seal who just been born that morning. On the way back to ,the dock Carrie asked if we were ready for some bumpy rides. We had no choice but to say yes and she opened up that seal boat with its twin 200 (I guessed at the size) HP Evinrude engines. We were hitting the bottom of some waves and riding over the top of many of them. It was a very fun ride for me and Elizabeth enjoyed it somewhat. We decided to eat in town and got to a restaurant just dead opened so we didn't have to wait area I had a seriously good clam chowder Elizabeth had a beer-based Tillamook cheese soup. It was in a brewery so we had craft pilsner for lunch. Everything was very good and I took a nap we got back to the camp after setting the RV up.  I spoke to our neighbor to our South who is a retired Air Force avionics technician, meeting his children here for the weekend into two other RVs.  We had a nice chat about the military, his travels around Europe and working on F-15s and 16s. He also gave me some insights into the Olympia peninsula where he and his wife had lived for many years. Our neighbor to the North is a retired civil servant, mechanical engineer who helped build the submarine base in San Diego and worked there most of his career. We briefly discussed COVID and his wife who is a nurse says they were waiting to get the Johnson and Johnson shot because it doesn't use MRNA to send signals to your body to protect yourself from the virus but actually uses a strain of the virus to make you immune to it like a flu shot. He said it wasn't really worried because it only affects a minor percentage of the population who have comorbidity issues most of the time. He and his wife have been full timers for several years in their 5th wheel. Again, you meet some of the most interesting people just by casual conversations. You know how shy I am so it's hard to meet strangers.
May 14
We drove north to the Washington border and found refuge at a National Guard base with an electric only hook-up for one night $15.  It’s clean, quiet and near the “latrine”.  Elizabeth prefers bathhouse/restrooms.
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caredogstips · 7 years
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Life on the American flow: Mark Twain romance, or false hope for the homeless?
Hundreds without housing in California have constructed their home on the shady banks of the American river. But the bucolic vistum belies a darker reality
Richard Dean heaved his bike and trailer across the bridge, away from the city, and followed a soil track through scouring until reaching a patch of shaded riverbank.
It was approaching 100 F( 37 C) but Dean, sweating and panting, was upbeat. This is a good workout. And we have the best air-conditioning in the world. Its called the American river.
The wiry 50 -year-old unleashed his dog, Shunka, extracted a foldable chair from the cart and settled in for a serene afternoon under pecan and dogwood trees. He wasnt “re going away”. He was home.
Dean, who goes by the nickname Syphy, is part of a largely invisible homeless person camped by the reeds and thickets stringing the American river just outside Sacramento, Californias capital. They come for the seclusion and opportunity to live on their own terms.
Rory Carroll (@ rorycarroll7 2) June 30, 2016
Trekking Sacramento’s American river session #homeless campers. It’s another world. Scenic, serene, hopeless. pic.twitter.com/ S50DY8jq5e
They are not the first. Nisenan Indians terminated here 5,000 years ago. Itinerant miners built shanties during the 1840 s gold rush, must be accompanied by pedigrees dislodged during the Great Depression. Now it is the turn of hundreds of modern outcasts with domesticateds, bicycles, tents and tarpaulin.
Its so nice out here. I dont consider myself homeless, I merely live outside, replied Julie Pacheco, 48, accommodated in a bramble spot. I dont take any[ government] succor. Id rather be a camping gypsy, she said.
Pacheco had switched her little clear, concealed from the river by blackberry undergrowths and almond trees, into a dwelling with two tents, a burn quarry, a chair, a flowerpot and a load of publications and volumes, including Shirley MacLaine romances and a Ronald Reagan biography. She shared it with Annie, a terrier-chihuahua.
Ive got some Angus steaks marinating, responded Pacheco. Ill cook them tonight with mesquite to give them a barbecue taste.
Rory Carroll (@ rorycarroll7 2) June 30, 2016
Julie Pacheco marinading frozen steaks taken away from garbage. ‘With some mesquite for a bbq taste.’ #homeless pic.twitter.com/ stKUlso7bF
They seem to be obscuring
These clandestine denizens appear to occupy a comparatively benign area of the US homelessness crisis: a bucolic landscape with owls and beavers and a flow where they can bathe, fish and live often like Huckleberry Finn. Some do chilling in the water, fastening trout, exploring waterways with canoes.
Appearances deceive. Look closer and any sense of nostalgic idyll dissolves. The same pressures driving homelessness from New York to Los Angeles poverty, mental illness, craving waft through the reeds and oleander. The flow is no refuge. Its a trap.
Those who call it dwelling can invest months, times, even decades in a netherworld a little bit closer to Trainspotting than Mark Twain.
Many abuse drugs, especially methamphetamine nicknamed crank, transforming them into toothless, hollow-cheeked vagabonds with nervous systems so fried they perpetually twitch, earning the nickname tweakers. They survive not through wilderness resourcefulness but private charity, food stamps and welfare checks which land around the start of each month, expressed in the term the eagle shits on the first.
It pops you in the look, articulated Joan Burke, advocacy chairman for Loaves& Fishes, a non-profit which feeds hundreds daily in Sacramento. We have people living in third-world ailments with no access to potable water or sanitation. Its grisly to realise them living in squalor when they truly cant take care of themselves.
Newcomers have swollen the population from dozens to hundreds in recent years, making some old-timers to move further upriver to escape fear of violence, added Jeff Harris, a city council member.
Anthony Bennett, a common ranger sergeant who heads a seven-strong crew in the American River Parkway, a 23 -mile environmental ornament, has spent a decade rousting and counseling the homeless. Its a bit lamentable and hopeless. They seem to be disguising away from society. Its not safe, its not legal and its not healthy. We do what we can to push people towards services and assistant. But we cant coerce them to take it.
Bennett alleged rangers strive to keep the parkway clean and safe without persecuting the homeless, who injury the ballpark with litter, grove mow and burns. Were not a swat squad or the Gestapo. We consider these beings as human beings.
Who lives here
When the Guardian accompanied Bennett on a recent patrol he trekked down restricted dirt directions silent save for fowls and the rivers swirl. Bent grass and snarled limbs betrayed entries to otherwise obscured camps, most containing just one or two tents.
Brandon Jack, 47, and Jennifer Goggin, 44, lived with their puppy, Miss Brodie, beneath a canopy of wild grapes. Jack, barefoot and shirtless, said he was an electrician descended on hard times. Homeless shelters were not policy options, he enunciated. You get 30 guys in a room blow snot everywhere. Its a disease factory.
So for a year he had lived by the river, exploiting it bathe, wash foods and build a new life with his partner.
Rory Carroll (@ rorycarroll7 2) June 30, 2016
Brandon Jack camps under wild grapes. ‘I want to be out of the channel. Out of sight out of mind.’ #homeless pic.twitter.com/ qkZPo3lVIE
Bennett returned the couple 48 hours to move and urged them to contact Sacramento Steps Forward, a non-profit which works with the city to offer shelter and services to the homeless.
Jack gestured but did not seem reassured. Wed rather be out of the path. Out of view, out of brain.
Further down the river another duet bore the devastations of decades in the wilderness. James Donaldson was weather-beaten with an unkempt beard of an Old Testament prophet. His wife Paula Richardson, 53, slumped in a chair, coughed, coughed and cursed at dogs who roared from behind a tarpaulin sheet.
Through slurred speech Donaldson talked up the merit of flow life. Beautiful vegetation. It presents a lot of oxygen. He claimed to be an ex-LAPD patrolman who had California head Jerry Browns personal authorization to live here. Scrap and accumulations of filthy clothes bespoke a mis fight against grunge and disease.
A handful appear to thrive. An old-timer nicknamed Runner Mike, so-called because he runs through the wilderness, improves skillfully camouflaged shelters with air-vents, isolation, passageways and spider-holes. Hes quite proud of what he builds, said Bennett. Another occupant, nicknamed Monkey, seeks maximum solitude by occupying islands.
Some band together and form tight-knit hamlets, sharing meat, cigarettes and a feeling of supremacy over those who live on Sacramentos streets, precisely a few miles across the bridge. I dont really like addressing the riff-raff up there, mentioned Tina Schifflett, 43, a former Cinnabon manager who shares a spot of riverbank with several others.
Ryan Loofbourrow, the executive director of Sacramento Steps Forward, said river-dwellers tended to be more rugged and coordinated than city homeless. They want privacy and are now able to carve out a bit of infinite for themselves. But impediments left many struggling, he lent.
Most river-dwellers interviewed for this story spoke of loneliness, affliction and the specter of addiction. They stayed throw, “theyre saying”, for want of available low-income apartments and because moving to a shelter would symbolize giving up pets.
Its peaceful, sure, responded Craig Sanderson, 53, camped under an oak tree with Spike, a pitbull mastiff. He reads thrillers in his boxer shorts between scavenging bottles and cans with a bicycle and go-cart. But the grunge gets to you.
Rory Carroll (@ rorycarroll7 2) June 30, 2016
Craig Sanderson lived under an oak tree with Spike. ‘This is my house. It’s quiet. Downside? The dirt.’ #homeless pic.twitter.com/ 0ZdmzVznII
Pacheco, the woman living under brambles, was proud of her they are able to pasture and lives alone. But separation had unmoored her. Despite no academic background she spoke of drafting existing laws and find a Guggenheim fellowship. She wanted a laptop for investigate but abjured a telephone. Ive no one to call.
Syphy, who heralded the rivers air-conditioning prowess, told you he find close to nature and joked that the parkways maintenance crews were his maids. But even he felt it was a incorrect sanctuary.
If you think this is Huck Finn romance, good luck stepping out of a barge and not stepping on a fucking needle. Croak to a tweaker clique and youll discover the most difficult mess youve ever seen. They plagiarize and go into your stuff. I dont trust parties out here.
Rory Carroll (@ rorycarroll7 2) June 30, 2016
Richard Dean aka Syphy. ‘Best air conditioning – the American river. But starting to suck being out of me.’ #homeless pic.twitter.com/ XDMWXs4zKp
A former meths junkie himself, Syphy had been sober three years he ascribed enjoy for his hound but horror a recurrence. He dreamed of moving to Alaska before it was too late. This target is truly are now beginning to suck the spirit out of me.
Read more: www.theguardian.com
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