Then on north past the Alien Center Brothel. Interesting fact–most of the brothels have closed. What’s a trucker to do?
On into Oregon, then back across the border into California where a short walk brings one to the alarmingly clear Smith River.
And across the bridge is the Stout Grove, a remarkable and un-photographable forest of gigantic redwood trees. Hard to be unmoved here. And another connection–I’m towing a dory Martin Litton gave me–Martin, who fought so hard for the redwoods to be saved.
North to Coquille, Buzz Holmstrom’s home town. The plaque needed a bit of polishing.
This is deep Trump Country. I felt a little awkward with my Bernie magnets on the car.
The Coquille espresso boat.
There are still a lot of heathy harvestable renewable stands near Coquille and Bob Sproul can usually find me what I need.
Up to visit Roger Fletcher in Dallas, Oregon. I forgot to take any pictures, but we sure had a good time catching up and trading arcane thoughts on drift boats and dories.
North to Pacific City to watch the dory fleet come in. But they didn’t come today.
And still further north. The cormorants in the morning fog are waiting for the espresso boat.
And finally to Astoria, where my bronze-casting mentor Sam Johnson showed me around the back rooms of the Columbia River Maritime Museum, of which he is the Executive Director. Here is one of his favorite gizmos, making perfect copper boat nails.
A pretty boat mid-restoration.
A prettier boat that Sam built. Back in 2001 Sam spent about fifteen minutes teaching Roger Fletcher and I how to lapstrake. Sam is one hell of a teacher.
A wee gem on a shelf. What an amazing amount of devastation and grief is associated with this twisted hunk of mangled steel.
If you have not yet been to this museum, go. It is truly magnificent, and it is amazing how many irons Sam has in the fire. At a time when nonprofits are struggling, Sam is expanding at an alarming rate.
Then finally back to Southern Oregon to run the Rogue River. Which I guess was the point of this whole journey.