Stories by Mike Jandl on Medium

Mrs. Nygard’s Sink

Mike Jandl — Tue, 17 Oct 2017 02:10:57 GMT

A short story by Mike Jandl

“If you keep chewing on that thing your teeth are going to fall out, you stupid mutt,” Glen said to Lily. He’d just started working and the dog was already getting to him.

Lily was a German Shepherd who belonged to Mrs. Nygard, one of the tenants living in the apartment building of which Glen was the caretaker. The German Shepherd kept chewing on her bone, paying no attention to Glen, who was craning his neck to look out from under the sink he was working toward fixing.

“Goddamn dog.” Glen had been out late the night before and was as hung over as a weak-willed sailor on his first day back from shore leave. His head felt like an old tin coffee can full of nails and random junk you’d find around a messy garage. Everything was bouncing around in there; tangled up tightly, but loose at the same time.

From the pipes beneath the sink, dirty water dripped onto Glen’s forearm. It ran mostly down his sleeve, but some of it splashed onto his face in little sprays as the drops broke up against his arm on their way down. It smelled awful; like something had been spoiling in there for some time.

When Mrs. Nygard answered the door a strong stench wafted out from behind her like an invisible cloud of poison gas. Glen struggled to avoid gagging as the stink assaulted his nostrils. Mrs. Nygard was on her way out to meet some friends and drink coffee and trade these silly glass figurines she collected. They were all over her apartment and they gave Glen the creeps. He found the little baby ones especially disturbing, with their pink mouths fixed in hungry snarls.

She let him in and showed him the sink with the broken garbage disposal before offering access to the fridge. “There’s milk in the refrigerator if you get thirsty, but don’t drink the 2 percent. The 2 percent is the only kind I like with my coffee. You can drink all the 1 percent you want.”

The radio on the kitchen counter had been playing golden oldies when he arrived. It was still on, but was now issuing a DJ’s voice. It was a nice alternative to the old lady’s babbling, and Glen’s selective hearing kicked in around the time she first mentioned milk.

According to the DJ, the town’s police department and the rest of the community were still looking for the young girl who had gone missing the month before. Her disappearance had been all over the news at first, but with not a single breakthrough in the search, more current issues were beginning to overshadow the story. She was nine years old, with dark curly hair. Her mother had just finished painting her fingernails pink the night before she went missing. It was her favorite color, the mother had said, hysterical, on the news. He could remember those details, but he could not remember the little girl’s name. He hated himself for that. Every time he heard something about the story he listened for her name, but he always missed it. He was listening closely now, hoping the DJ would repeat it.

“Glen!” Mrs. Nygard snapped. “Glen, are you listening to a single word I’m saying?”

She was staring at Glen with her hands on her hips. Her nostrils were noticeably flaring in frustration. Glen thought for a moment that steam might begin venting from her ears or that her glasses would fog over, like a cartoon character from an episode of Looney Toons.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, the radio is on and they’re talking about that little girl-”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, what little girl?!” she cried. “I need you to fix my sink, Glen!” Her voice was shrill and her yelling did no favors for his splitting headache. “What am I to do without a working disposal?”

Lily trotted into the room during her yelling fit. She was a huge dog, and Glen was surprised Mrs. Nygard was allowed to keep her in the mid-sized apartment. The dog already had the damn bone in her mouth at that point. Glen thought it looked strange. It didn’t look like a normal bone you’d give to a dog. There was something odd about it.

“And don’t mind Lily,” Mrs. Nygard said. “She’s got herself a new bone and that will keep her busy until I’m back.”

“What kind of bone is that? It’s awfully big, isn’t it?” Glen didn’t really want to keep Mrs. Nygard any longer than was needed, but he’d already noticed the bone, and his curiosity — hungover or not — demanded investigation.

Mrs. Nygard didn’t answer at first. She only curled the corners of her lips into an awful attempt at a fake smile and looked at Glen for what seemed like a whole minute, though it was only a moment.

“Alfie started giving them to her just before he disappeared. He had a big bag of them, but now there are only a couple left, ” she said and turned to Lily. “I don’t know exactly what they are, but I think they remind her of him.” She patted the dog on the head. “Do they remind you of Alfie, Lily?”

From deep in her throat, the Shepard growled softly in agreement.

Alfie was Mrs. Nygard’s husband. He’d disappeared mysteriously a few years back, but Glen didn’t know much about it. He didn’t really care either. She was a bitchy old lady and her apartment always smelled awful. Glen wouldn’t have been surprised if Alfie had just skipped town. Living with Mrs. Nygard seemed like it would be anything but easy. She was in surprisingly good shape for her age though, and Glen thought she could have been an attractive woman, maybe even beautiful at one time, although there were no pictures around the apartment to prove it.

“Anyways,” she said, turning away from the dog, “don’t let her eat anything when I’m gone. I’ve got her on a very strict diet. Very strict!” she pointed her finger towards Glen and shook it to emphasize the seriousness of her instructions.

After he assured her that he would not feed Lily, she finally left, and Glen forgot all about the bone for the moment.

Lying on his back, Glen cranked hard on the wrench, but he was weak and his hands were cramping from dehydration. It was miserable work; lying half on the floor, half inside a cupboard with your head under a stinky, clogged-up sink, especially when you started the project with a stomach that was too queasy to accept even a plain piece of toast for breakfast. His guts were turning and he needed a breather, so he pulled himself out from under the sink with a groan and lay down on the linoleum floor.

He’d begun to doze but the sound of Lily, still chomping on her bone, roused him. From under the forearm that was shielding his eyes from the kitchen light, he glanced in the dogs direction. God, how his head was throbbing. And that scraping. No, it was grinding. That grinding. It was like nails on a chalkboard. It was driving him mad.

“Dammit, Lily!” He yelled as he shot up from the floor and started after the dog. His heavy boots pounded against the floor of the second-level apartment and the glass figurines that were too precious to be traded that day rattled on their shelves. Lily grabbed hold of her bone and fled from the kitchen into one of the two bedrooms before Glen made it halfway across the room.

He knew instantly that he’d made a mistake. Standing up so quickly had made him dizzy and his face and back were dripping wet with cold sweat. He stumbled over and opened the window. It was December and the cold wind rushed into the stuffy apartment. After a few long, greedy breaths he closed the window back up, and sat down at the table with the radio. Elvis sang two songs with which he wasn’t familiar as he rested his forehead across his arms on the table. Before long the dizziness passed, but he still felt like hell and wanted to get back home to sleep off this monster hangover. So reluctantly, he made his way back to the sink. The smell issuing from the drain was enough to make him wince.

“I don’t want to know what I’m gonna find in there,” he whispered while looking down the drain with one eye closed and the back of his hand held over his nose. “Something the disposal didn’t want to chew up I guess.”

Glen had had enough, so he gathered all the strength he could muster and got back down on the floor. He grabbed his wrench and shoved himself under the sink. This go-round, he wasted no time. With the wrench secured to the pipe’s coupling, he took a deep breath and pulled with everything he had. There was a squeal, and then a pop.

Brown liquid with the consistency of old beef stew slopped out of the pipe beneath the drain and disposal, landing on Glen’s face. His lips had been pursed shut as he strained to turn the wrench, but he involuntarily gasped for air as soon as his efforts had paid off, allowing the sludge, rather than oxygen, into his mouth. In alarm, he sat up and knocked his head on the bottom of the pipe, which was sticking straight down into the small space beneath the sink. It’s circular edge cut into his forehead and blood began to run down his face, mixing with the goop from the drain.

“Awe shit!” Glen cried, trying to spit out what had made it’s way into his mouth. It sounded more like ‘Ahl sit!’ He turned frantically from side to side in an attempt to shuffle out from under the sink. He suddenly realized something solid was in his mouth. It was soft and mushy like the goop, but it wasn’t breaking up. He spit it out, but he couldn’t see where it went or what it was because of the blood in his eyes.

Finally, he made it onto the kitchen floor and stood up fast, almost falling over in his hurry. He spun around and threw up into the sink. It occurred to him only after he did this that the sink was no longer hooked up to the plumbing. At this point he didn’t care about adding to the mess so he turned on the faucet to wash his face. There was a good amount of blood and he had to use one of Mrs. Nygard’s good dish towels to put pressure on the cut. He puked once more into the drain leading to the floor and then managed to get himself together.

With the dish cloth pressed to his head, Glen turned around and looked down. There was water all over the floor, not to mention a decent amount of blood, puke, and whatever had been clogged in the drain. Towards the end of the puddle, near the refrigerator, there was a small chunk of goop. It was about three inches long and a little less than an inch thick.

That’s what I had in my mouth, Glen thought in disgust. He could still taste it, could still feel it’s eroded texture pressing against his tongue, cheek, and gums. He moved closer to inspect the fleshy object. Fleshy. That’s exactly right. It was just inches from his toes now. He began to crouch down to the floor, tilting his head to view it from a different angle. It was cylindrical. One end of the thing was rough. It appeared to have been torn, or poorly cut away from whatever it had been connected to. A small nub jutted slightly out from the center of this rough end. The nub’s color was dirty-white, surrounded by yellowish-brown. It looked like a little bullseye. He wanted a better look, but he wasn’t about to touch it.

Glen stood — slowly this time — and stepped back. There were paper towels on the counter next to the sink and he grabbed a handful. When he turned around, Lily, the German Shepherd, was standing over the place where the thing had been. It was halfway in her mouth.

“Lily!” Glen cried. “Lily! Drop it!” He clapped his hands together and stomped on the floor to emphasize his command, but Lily stood her ground.

She stood very still, holding the object between her teeth, but did not chew. From where Glen stood, it looked like the rough end he had noticed earlier was at the back of the Shepherd’s mouth. He hadn’t had a good look at the other end before, but now he could see it sticking out from between Lily’s teeth.

As he inched closer to the dog, he noticed the bone she had been chewing earlier. It was at her feet. Suddenly, a memory from far back came rushing into his brain. Tenth grade biology class. The skeleton that hung in the back of the room — ‘Mr. Skin’ they’d named it. That’s a femur bone, he thought, and it’s not from a pet store.

The radio on the table had stopped playing music. The DJ was talking again about the young girl who’d gone missing. Just as Glen thought he might finally hear her name, Lily gave a low growl and his attention shifted back to the object in the dog’s teeth. Horrified, he noticed a distinct feature on the thing. There was a fingernail. It was painted pink.

Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this story, please give it a clap and/or (if you really liked it) pass it along.

Oregon Road Trip: The End

Mike Jandl — Thu, 12 Oct 2017 00:16:11 GMT

After twelve days of exploring Oregon — which has become my favorite state outside of Minnesota, my life-long home — we had finally come to the end of our adventure. Sure, we still had a long ride ahead of us, but the road would hold no significant stops other than the necessary gas fill ups, occasional bathroom breaks, and an overnight stay at an ordinary motel in Missoula, MT. We had seen all we could fit into the time we had, and we regret nothing about our use of that time. For most of the drive home we talked about the places we visited, the things we saw and did, and how those experiences made this vacation so memorable for us.

If I had to choose my five favorite places we visited on the trip — in no particular order — I suppose this would be that list.

Glacier National Park
Hood River/Mt. Hood
Bandon Beach
The coast south of Port Orford (We didn’t get to see much of the northern coast. You should probably check out the whole stretch.)
Jedediah Smith Redwood State Park

Driving through Montana on day one of our trip.

The beginning of our trip consisted of a very long drive. Our drive west to Oregon had been broken into three days. The need for sleep had stopped us on our first day, but the second brought us to Glacier National Park.

Glacier National Park from the passenger seat.

I can’t begin to express the beauty of Glacier. All I can say is that we could have spent our entire two weeks exploring its beauty and still felt the need for more time. If you’re going to visit Glacier, I recommend waiting until the Going-to-the-Sun road is open. The legendary mountain pass was closed during our visit, and although we still thoroughly enjoyed our time in the park, we will be sure to plan around the road’s accessibility on our next inevitable trip here. We spent just one night in Glacier before moving on to Oregon.

Mt. Hood, just south of Hood River in wine country.

Hood River is located on the northern boarder of Oregon on the south shore of the Columbia River Gorge. You’ve got to visit Hood River. The drive along the Columbia River alone is worth it. The small hillside city is just an hour or so east of Portland. Just a short distance to the south is Mt. Hood National Forest, Mt. Hood, and Trillium Lake, which provides an amazing view of Mt. Hood.

Trillium Lake. Photo Credit: Jane Pederson.

If you’re planning on camping in the area, we highly suggest Nottingham Campground. It was by far our favorite campsite throughout the entire trip. Hood River itself is a beautiful little town and we were hard pressed to leave it behind, but there was so much more to see. If you’re visiting and want a tasty beer, try out Double Mountain Brewery and Taproom. We loved their stuff!

Jane ‘Danger’ Pederson drinks a ‘Sweet Jane IPA’ at Double Mountain Brewery and Taproom in Hood River, OR.

I feel like I have to mention Portland, not because I loved it, but because it’s something everyone thinks of when Oregon is mentioned. We stayed in Portland and decided it wasn’t for us, but there were definitely some cool aspects to the huge city. Most of our time there was spent downtown, which was probably why we couldn’t form a bond with the culture of the area. The selection of food stands and trucks were my favorite part I think. There was an entire city block of just food stands, and it was amazing. I would suggest spending more than one night in town though — duh, right?. We were in camping mode so I don’t think we really gave the city the chance it deserved.

Our favorite large city was Eugene. Eugene had a bit of a ‘hippie’ feel to it, which is probably why we liked it. I’m not sure if Jane and I could be considered ‘hippies,’ but we’re all for the laid-back, be happy, don’t do something you hate kind of life, and that seemed to be the general attitude of the people we met here. The city reminded us of Duluth, MN in a way, which is where Jane and I have both lived for most of the last eight years. Also, we found a neighborhood called Whitaker that has three breweries, a winery, and a coffee shop all within about a two block radius of each other. That may have had something to do with our affection for the city…Ninkasi Brewing and Oakshire Brewing are both great places to wet your whistle if you’re in town.

Bandon Beach in the morning.

Ah, the coast. We loved the coast — who doesn’t though. The first stop that really wowed us was Bandon Beach in the town of Bandon. This ocean view definitely takes first place in the most cinematic category in my opinion. We spent two separate photo shoots — one at dusk and one in the morning — trying to capture the beach’s moody feel. Please stop at Bandon Beach if you’re exploring the Oregon coast. It’s my favorite beach.

Shore Acres State Park.

When we reached Port Orford it marked the beginning of what may have been the most beautiful drive we experienced on our trip. The drive along the coast from Port Orford to northern California was unbelievable. As we drove south along the shore, we began to see gigantic rock islands jutting out of the cool blue-green ocean water. They must have reached 150–200 feet into the sky, or it at least seemed that way. Also included in the drive was our stop at Shore Acres State Park . The park has a great trail system running along cliffs that overlook the ocean from it’s reddish-orange rocks. It’s definitely worth making a stop if you’re heading down 101.

Jedediah Smith Redwood State Park.

After crossing into northern California, we stopped at Jedediah Smith Redwood State Park. With Oregon being the main focus of our trip, we wanted to stay within a half hour or so of the state. Jedediah Smith was a perfect distance from the border for our schedule, and we’re really glad we took the time to visit. Walking through the redwood forest is an amazing experience. Not only are the unbelievably enormous trees beautiful, but the growth on the forest floor is something to see as well. The colors are dreamily soft and comforting, I think because of how the light is filtered by the tall, thick forest. Try not to hurt your neck when looking up.

Crater Lake National Park. Photo Credit: Jane Pederson.

On our way back north, we headed to the eastern half of Oregon. Crater Lake was on the way, and we camped there for a night. If you want to see the bluest water you’ll ever see, go to Crater Lake. From the top of the caldera, you’ll be treated to a breath-taking view of the deepest lake in the U.S. It’s one of those stops that you have to make if you’re visiting Oregon. There is just no other lake like it.

Oregon and it’s surrounding states make for an absolutely beautiful area. I’m not able to mention all of the great places we visited — for the sake of brevity — and there was way more to see that we just didn’t have time for. If you’re in need of a vacation, you should really consider visiting Oregon. We ordered a free catalogue from Travel Oregon and we were sold after our first flip through its pages.

Our copy of Travel Oregon is a bit worn out after our trip. It’s a helpful magazine and it’s free!

It’s also possible to make the journey on a reasonably small budget. Jane and I ended up spending just under one thousand dollars each over the period of two weeks!

Here are a few quick and super easy tips that helped us to enjoy our trip and allowed us to spend less money than we expected.

Stay in as many state parks as you can — they’re really affordable.
Buy a National Parks and Federal Recreational Lands Annual Pass — they’re 80 dollars and you can visit all of the parks you want!
Pack yourself a cooler of sandwich ingredients and snacks. Eggs were our budget food of choice. It’s amazing how much you can save by preparing one or two meals a day from your cooler.

We will most certainly visit Oregon again. It’s beautiful. Go explore it!

Thanks for reading. This series was a way to catalogue the experiences we had on our road trip to the west so we can look back and remember our adventure. It has been great fun reliving our experiences while writing about it over the last few months and I hope you’ve enjoyed it as well.

You can read about our adventure in greater detail by clicking on the links below.

Oregon Road Trip: Day Twelve

Mike Jandl — Tue, 10 Oct 2017 02:15:46 GMT

Snow, Bathroom Tunnels,
Hiking Crater Lake, Bend,
Sisters

It was easy to sleep in at the Crater Lake campground. The warmth of our blankets was far more attractive than the cold, snowy environment outside our tent. But we weren’t ready to spend all morning in one place like the previous day at Whiskey Spring, so we made sure we were out and about — campsite disassembled and packed away — by 8:30am. The park was still somewhat busy by that time, but it became far more so within just an hour, so we were glad to have had somewhat of an early start.

View from inside our tent at Crater. (The beers are from the night before…)

As was the case with the campsite, there was an alarming amount of snow surrounding the Lake. After assessing the snow situation on our walk to gift shop for coffee, we quickly returned to the car to replace our sneakers with boots. With java in hand and boots on our feet, we made our way towards the nearest overlook.

Half way between the lake and our car, there was a small building that housed bathrooms. From each door of the building there was a ten to fifteen foot long tunnel stretching to the edge of the paved road. You can’t get to the John without walking through these tunnels. At first we couldn’t figure out what the hell their purpose was, but after a bit of head scratching we figured it out. It keeps a path open during the tremendously snowy winters (and springs) of course. I had to walk through the tunnel. Not because I thought it was really neat, but because of those first sips of coffee.

I couldn’t find any photos of the bathrooms in the summer, but you can see how long the tunnels need to be. Photo credit from left to right:Trip advisor, Ugly Hedgehog.

Crater Lake captured by the lovely Jane Pederson.

With a new spring in my step, Jane and I finally got to seeing what we’d come to see. From the numerous trails surrounding the caldera’s crest, there was not a single vantage point of poor quality to be found. It was a beautiful hike. The lake is a ridiculously intense shade of blue due to it’s impressive depth and the stunning clarity of the water. With a maximum depth of 1,932 ft., Crater Lake is the deepest lake in the U.S. and the seventh deepest in the world. We love lakes with records. Back in the midwest we see Lake Superior — ever heard of it? — on a daily basis from our home in Duluth, MN. Superior is the largest lake in the world by surface area. Lakes are cool.

Jane and I at Crater Lake

I’d visited Crater Lake once before; about five years ago on a warm August day. On that trip, I was able to jump into the lake from a large rock formation next to the tour boat docks. Even with the August heat, the water was cold. It was something I’d hoped Jane would be able to experience, but it was far too chilly on this visit, so we settled for soaking in the views from above instead. To be honest, we were feeling a bit tired now towards the end of our journey, and we didn’t really mind taking the laid back approach anyways. Having received our lake-fix, we left Crater Lake behind and headed for our last planned stop — Bend.

There was only an hour and a half of road between the two sites, but it was one of the less scenic drives we experienced on our trip. It reminded us a bit of the drive into Duluth, MN from the south or the west. A lot of similar looking swamp land dominated most of the trek. Luckily, the city of Bend is much prettier than the area surrounding the highway leading there from the south.

The Deschutes River flows through the heart of the city and the ‘Benditos’ — I’ve decided to call the residents of Bend ‘Benditos’ instead of ‘Bendites’ because it’s better— take full recreational advantage of it. While driving across the Colorado Ave. bridge, we spotted a stretch of rapids where loads of kayakers paddled wildly against the current. In the calmer areas, people could be seen paddle boarding and floating on tubes. Bikers were everywhere as well. It seemed like a great city for anyone who enjoys the outdoors.

Man-made rapids in Bend, OR. Photo Credit:Bend Parks and Recreation District.

It was a clean city and the air was fresh. We walked around downtown and enjoyed the sunshine on our way to the Deschutes Brewery Bend Public House. We’re big fans of Deschutes beer and we had to make a stop since we were in it’s home town. After a couple cold ones, we decided to make a break for it. Bend was nice, but we found that we enjoy the rural areas of Oregon more than it’s cities.

As the fourth of July was less than a week away, we weren’t surprised to find several campsites already full. However, Cold Spring Campground in Sisters, OR — which was only half hour away from Bend — had several sites open, and it appeared to be far superior to any of the full sites we’d looked at since leaving Bend. I don’t know why, but we had incredible luck in finding campsites at the last minute throughout the entire two weeks we were on the road. Like most places we had camped, it cost only twenty dollars to stay at a tent site.

The forest around our campsite at Cold Spring outside of Sisters, OR.

Our site was on the edge of the grounds and just twenty feet from a small stream that would eventually lull us to sleep. The surrounding forest floor also supplied all the free fire wood we would ever need. We had found our third favorite campsite, and as it would be our last, we decided to enjoy a late night by the fire. We cooked up our famous breakfast burrito dinner, and had s’mores for dessert. As we sipped a Deschutes brew straight from the growler, we listened to the crackle of the flames and the pleasant trickle of the stream. It was a perfect end to our last day of camping.

You can read about the rest of our adventure by clicking on the links below.

Oregon Road Trip: Day Eleven

Mike Jandl — Thu, 05 Oct 2017 16:00:26 GMT

Ambitious Travel Plans, Hand-Made Mountain Map,
Guilt-Trip Up the Mountain, Late Checkout,
Snow-Covered Campsites, Bears?

For having been on the road for ten days on a trip that was planned — perhaps too much so, perhaps not — minimally, we experienced only one day in which the ground we covered was less than what we deemed to be acceptable. Day eleven was eaten alive right in front of our eyes. We knew it was happening from the beginning, but we could do nothing to stop it.

We woke up and took our time, enjoying one of our favorite sites, as we’d promised ourselves we would do when we were lucky enough to find them. A nice fast breakfast of coffee — made with natural spring water — and granola bars was just the ticket to begin, what we thought would be at the time, a quick departure from the Whiskey Spring campground. Crater Lake was our destination. We figured if we could tackle it by early afternoon we could move on, possibly even making it to Bend, our next destination, by nightfall.

Our campsite at Whiskey Spring.

Just as we were packing up our tent, Dan — the campground host — drove by on a golf cart and stopped at our site. He asked how we were liking Whiskey Springs and we told him we loved it. That made Dan a happy man, and he wanted us to enjoy more of the area. He insisted that we take his hand-made map — which he “only gives out to the people he really likes”— and check out a minimum maintenance road that would bring us to an amazing view of Mt. McLoughlin. We hadn’t seen the peak on our way in, and figured the road might be further out of our way than we cared to go. Our plan was to hurry along and this hand-drawn map looked like a good way to slow our progress considerably.

Both Jane and I smiled and thanked him. We told him we’d be sure to check it out, but our exchanged glances gave me the idea — which was later confirmed — that neither of us really planned on taking the side-adventure. To our surprise, as he was settling in behind the steering wheel of his golf cart, Dan said “Let me know how much snow is still up there. And please bring my map back. Have fun!” With a wave, he took off on his golf cart, grinning like a kid. Jane and I looked at each other and I think we both whispered obscenities under our breath — now we’d been given an assignment.

Despite our promise to let Dan know about the snow situation and returning his map, we decided that we needed to get a move on. As we drove to the end of Whiskey Spring’s dirt road however, we became overwhelmed with guilt. Damn our mid-western passive-aggressive ways. Dan was such a nice guy. We couldn’t just leave without checking out the mountain view he’d talked about with such admiration. The look on his face when we told him we’d follow his map was just too much. We couldn’t let him down.

Mt. McLoughlin from the mountain road we followed on Dan’s hand-made map.

After about an hour of careful driving up a skinny, poorly maintained road — in a civic — we reached an opening on the side of the hill. There, we were rewarded with a beautiful view, as promised, of Mt. McLoughlin. We saw no one on the trip up, but a few more minutes of driving brought us to a large drift of snow, probably four feet deep, running across the middle of the road. A lone truck was parked there, but no one was around. If the truck couldn’t make it, we definitely weren’t going to attempt plowing through the road block in our little car. Partially disappointed, but mostly relieved that we could go no further, we turned around and began the slow drive back down the little dirt road to report our findings and return our map to Dan. On the drive back, we were lucky enough to spot these gigantic sugar pine cones on the side of the road and Jane hopped out and grabbed them. I had no idea pine cones could be so big.

One of the Sugar Pine Cones we found near Whiskey Spring.

When we finally returned, we were pleased to find two park rangers shooting the breeze with Danny boy. It was fun to be able to thank him for all the great care he took in making our visit a memorable one in front of the rangers. They seemed pleased with his efforts, and as we walked away, we overheard Dan saying “We don’t get people who are interested in the extra stuff around here very often, but they(Jane and I) were good kids.” It totally made our trek up the mountain worth it.

Jane & I leaving our second favorite campsite behind.

By the time we made it back to the highway that would bring us to Crater Lake, it was 3:00. It was about a two hour drive from Whiskey Spring and when we finally made it to the park we realized we were famished. There was a nice restaurant near the park’s campground where we scarfed down some burgers and drank a couple beers before walking over to the registration building to find a camp site.

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Luckily, there were more than 60 vacant sites. The problem was that over three quarters of those vacant sites were filled with two feet or more of snow… We cruised around the campground looking desperately for a habitable site and found that the pickings were slim. Once we settled on two possibilities — both still mostly covered in snow — we made our way back to book one and pick up some snacks. The registration building thankfully had a great selection of beer too! Huzzah!

It was 7:00 by the time we had camp set up, and we didn’t have the energy to go site seeing. The actual lake was only a short drive away, but we were totally surrendering to the crushing defeat of our initial plans being shot. It was pretty fun to see all the snow so close to July though, and we were thankful that the fire pit and a small area just large enough for our tent had been spared. The rest of our site was completely covered. Another thing we noticed immediately was the presence of bear-safe compartments for food and garbage…Back in bear country again!!

Our snow covered campsite at Crater Lake.

After a few games of cribbage, s’mores, and a couple delicious bears — I mean beers!! I’ve got bears on the brain again — we headed for a much needed slumber in our thin canvas, vulnerable-to-claws, tent. It was incredible chilly, so, learning from our middle-of-the-night shiver session back in Mt. Hood National Forest, we bundled up as well as we could and closed our tired eyes. I’m happy to report that we slept soundly through the cold night, and were undisturbed by any bear-related activity that may, or may not, have taken place just feet from our cozy tent.

You can read about the rest of our adventure by clicking on the links below.

Oregon Toad Trip: Day Ten

Mike Jandl — Mon, 02 Oct 2017 19:24:06 GMT

Bandon Beach Sunrise, Towers in the Sea,
Looking Up, Crescent City,
Whiskey Springs

Bandon Beach at sunrise on a misty morning.

Of the ten mornings we would wake up in a tent over our two-week trip, this particular morning, the second Tuesday, was the earliest we made it out into the world. The sun had yet to rise as we made our way back to Bandon Beach. We were hoping for a clear sky and a colorful sunrise, but the beach seems to enjoy rather misty conditions, and it was wet, foggy, and cold. Still, it was an amazing place to start our morning, and though the weather was unfavorable, it seemed right somehow. After we snapped a few photos my camera was more wet than I was comfortable with, so we left our favorite beach and headed back to tear down our campsite.

A half an hour of driving south brought us to the town of Port Orford. At the south end of town, painted in huge, white characters on the road, there were two words and an arrow. It read ‘OCEAN VIEW’. After cresting the hill with the big, white directions, we were gifted a gorgeous view of a Pacific harbor. Small ships floated up to a shipping dock and rock islands jutted out of the ocean. It marked the beginning of an unbelievable drive. Hwy. 101 from Port Orford to the California state line was my favorite stretch of road, although we missed out on a lot of the northern half of the Oregon’s coast, which I’ve heard is also beautiful.

The farther south we traveled, the more impressive the islands became. Rising like giant silos from the ocean, the islands must have reached 150 to 200 feet into the sky. Waves crashed against them, and seagulls flew around the towering rock formations in the haze that seems to surround giant structures when they’re the appropriate distance away from the viewer — some kind of sensory effect that comes with the registry of some massive object you’ve never seen before I suppose. They were truly magnificent to look at, but they weren’t the only extraordinary natural structures we saw that day. After crossing into California, we made our way into the Jedediah Smith Redwood State Park, where we barely escaped straining our necks.

Looking up at Jedediah Smith Redwood State Park.

An uprooted redwood.

Jane leans against a giant redwood during our hike through Jedediah.

If you’ve never seen the Redwoods, you can rest assured that you have something to look forward to. The next time you’re having a bad day, just think, I’ve still got those big trees to see, and that’s something. I promise you, you wont be disappointed when you finally see them. It’s like walking through Jurassic Park — but without dinosaurs — , or strolling along a path on the small forest moon of Endor — but without Ewoks. The trees are simply enormous, and the old forest growth is like nothing you’ve ever seen. The color of the moss is a light green that seems to almost glow. Giant fallen trees form wide highways atop the thick growth for recklessly speedy critters to jet along. And the daylight is soft, filling the great space between the forest floor and the high canopy of the tree tops like some sort of enchanted chamber, or great hall from out of a story book.

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Walking through the forest was refreshing and energizing, but it was also thirsty work. Our next stop was Crescent City, a small coastal town just a short drive south from Jedediah Smith. Finding a brewery was the first objective on our list of things to do. Because of it’s great location, we chose SeaQuake Brewing.

Trying to be patient at SeaQuake Brewing in Crescent City, CA.

The beer was great and the staff was incredibly accommodating. Jane and I were somewhat indecisive about whether or not we wanted to sit in the sun — which seemed to be too hot for our mid-western skin — or in the shade — which was chilly when combined with the cool ocean breeze. We ended up moving three times, but the waitress was really laid back about it and she never missed a beat in regards to our location and order. We settled on sitting in the sun and we ate calamari strips — an appetizer of deep fried calamari which looked similar to french fries — to satisfy our craving for seafood, and they did the job surprisingly well.

After a nice walk along the beach, we decided to hit the road and head towards Crater Lake. We knew we wouldn’t make it by nightfall, so we started looking at our camping options along the way. It took a long time to find anything with vacancy, but a guy named Dan answered the phone when we called Whiskey Springs Campground. He said he had a few sites available and told us to stop by whenever. Jane and I both thought it was sort of weird. There was no apparent closing time for registering listed on the surprisingly minimal website, and Dan hadn’t specified any sort of restrictions over the phone. We supposed it didn’t matter though, as we planned on arriving with at least an hour of sunlight left.

As we neared Whiskey Springs, we became a little worried. We’d left all the main highways and were seeing less and less sign of any civilization. It’s not that we don’t like being in the sticks, but it was becoming hard to believe we were going to find any sort of actually campground. Well, we did find the campground eventually, but it still had a strange feeling about it. There’s no way anyone is going to be out here, we thought as we drove down the long and desolate forest road. After a few minutes though, we came upon a small camper. Outside the camper, was a man sitting in a lawn chair. His hands were folded across his chest and he appeared to be the most relaxed dude in the world. The area around his camper was extremely well kept and comfortable looking. A welcome table had been set up for any campers arriving to the campsite. The table had pamphlets set out with information about the surrounding area and perfectly stacked bundles of firewood sat nearby.

Dan, the man in the chair and from the phone call earlier in the day, stood up and greeted us with the perfect amount of enthusiasm. He was amazing, wasting no time in making sure we found the site that best suited us. When we asked for the price on firewood, he answered, “Please don’t buy my firewood. There’s a ton of free wood around the sites, I’d hate to have you spend extra money.” What a guy! He could have taken twenty extra bucks from us, but no, not Dan. Aside from the free wood, he pointed us in the direction of a natural spring from which we could bottle water for drinking. It was sort of hard to commit to drinking water from the stream, but it was delicious after we made it past our initial hesitation. Our actual site was huge and we were able to gather enough free wood to cook a bountiful dinner of breakfast burritos and keep our fire going until well past midnight.

Our campsite at Whiskey Springs. We basically lived off breakfast burritos on our trip. Delicious.

Whiskey Springs was super old-fashioned, and we loved it. After Nottingham Campground in the Mt. Hood National Forest, it was our second favorite campsite. If you’re planning on visiting Crater Lake or anywhere near it, I would highly recommend Whiskey Springs as a camping location. It’s an hour and a half away, but the atmosphere was an experience in itself.

It had been a good day of adventuring. We saw towering islands rising from the pacific, giant redwood forests, found a secluded campground with free firewood, and drank water from a natural spring. Under another perfectly clear sky — the norm for us, it seemed — we ended our night looking up at the stars through our tent’s screen roof, surrounded by dense conifer forest. There’s just nothing like falling asleep next to a beautiful woman in a mountainous forest beneath the stars. You really must try it sometime.

You can read about the rest of our adventure by clicking on the links below.

Oregon Road Trip: Day Nine

Mike Jandl — Fri, 22 Sep 2017 19:18:53 GMT

Sea Lions & Lighthouses, First Steps in the Ocean,
Photo Ops on Mars, All Dressed Up,
Bandon Beach, Coons

Just before leaving, we found a Banana Slug hanging around our campsite at Jessie M Honeyman Memorial State Park.

We left Jessie M. Honeyman Memorial State Park relatively early and headed north from Coos Bay along the coast. The Sea Lion Caves and Heceta Head Lighthouse are within spitting distance from each other, so we decided to backtrack for a half hour to cross the two attractions off our list. Besides, it meant we’d see more of the coast.

The coastal waters of Oregon are unbelievable. The color of the ocean is a mix of cool blue and aqua-green, with swirls of white from the waves and currents. It was the most picturesque landscape we’d seen since Glacier. Jane and I listened to tunes and enjoyed the view, constantly throwing out phrases like “OH MY GOD,” and “UNREAL,” attempting to express our awe during the drive along the shore.

A lone sea lion baths in the sun.

When we reached the Sea Lion Caves, the parking lot was packed. The little gift shop on the side of the road was enjoying a ridiculous amount of foot traffic. I nearly bumped into several visitors while navigating my way through the vast selection of knick knacks trying to find information about making it down to the caves. It ended up costing around twenty bucks to take the sea lion tour, which consisted of bringing you to the caves to snap photos and getting you soaked from the ocean spray. Twenty bucks was the limit we’d agreed to spend on any one tour for the trip so it was temping, but we decided to pass. From the road side, we saw several sea lions sunbathing on the rocks below for free! We were traveling on a budget. We made due.

Heceta Head Lighthouse was a five minute drive northth from the Sea Lion Caves, and it too was incredibly busy. It was a Monday, but it was an absolutely beautiful day. Everyone and their brother was out enjoying the sun. Again, we opted to enjoy the lighthouse for free from an overlook that provided a lovely view of the beacon from across the bay. It was only five dollars to park close up to the lighthouse, but we didn’t want to deal with the huge crowd. Plus, the view was amazing from the overlook.

Heceta Head Lighthouse from across the bay. Do you see it?

Our first stop after the lighthouse was Sunset Bay, where Jane and I waded into the ocean for first the first time together. I still can’t believe we didn’t get any footage of that…Naturally that milestone made it a great spot for us. It was beautiful, but Shore Acres State Park — our next stop — was even better. A short drive from Sunset Bay brought us to a small parking area, from which a narrow path led to an epic view of the Pacific from atop a fun little cliff. When we’d find places like this we made sure to take our time. So we grabbed our cameras and a couple of cold beers and explored the trails winding along the top of the ocean-side cliffs.

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We found an area near the water with smooth, rounded, red-orange rock that flowed like stone waves towards the sea. It felt a little like we were on Mars and I snapped one of my favorite photos from our vacation in this spot. If you’re trying to improve your photography, I highly recommend planning a trip and taking as many photos as possible when you go. I was able to learn a ton over the two weeks we were on the road. Having different locations to photograph every day makes a world of difference. It keeps things exciting and provides ample opportunities to experiment.

Overlooking the Pacific from the Mars-like Shore Acres State Park.

After we realized that our red faces had had enough sun for the day, we took off and headed for Bandon. We were famished and thought it would be nice to try some seafood for dinner. For the most part, we’d been eating bar food, breakfast burritos, and minimal sandwiches on the trip, so we were really excited when we found Lord Bennett’s, a seafood restaurant overlooking the enchanted, haunted-looking Bandon Beach.

Dressed to kill at Lord Bennett’s in Bandon,OR.

It happened to be our 8-month anniversary that day, so we figured we’d indulge. We forgot about our travel budget for the moment and disregarded the prices on the menu, which is what you should always do on special occasions. You only live once, and you don’t want to miss out on spectacular food. Spectacular food is really good. I was dressed in a Star Wars t-shirt and a flannel along with a ball cap, and Jane wore the least dirty, most dressy shirt she could dig out of our laundry in the trunk. Some may say we were underdressed, but one could argue that the rest of the patrons in the restaurant were grossly over dressed. One could certainly argue that.

We chose a bottle of wine that came highly recommended from our waiter and ate our little hearts out. After some delicious rolls and creamy butter that must have come from the teats of a holy cow, we dined on prawns — to which we also applied healthy amounts of the heavenly butter — , asparagus, some of the best mashed potatoes I’ve had in my life — both with more butter — , and finished it off with a great big piece of tiramisu for each of us. Best meal of the trip.

Bandon Beach looked far too interesting to let our paralyzingly full bellies keep us from exploring it. From the restaurant windows the massive rocks half-disappeared into the mist of the ocean. I love fog, and gloomy places, and the effect on the beach had me feeling like a million bucks. It was yet another great photo opportunity, of which Jane and I took full advantage. Really, it looked like the end of Star Wars: The Force Awakens, when Rey finds Luke on the island in the middle of the ocean… I love Star Wars.

Bandon Beach near sunset.

By the time we left, the sun had set. We found a campground with just 5 minutes left in the park ranger’s shift. It was nice, for once, to find a campsite so late without any trouble. The day had left us exhausted, and the giant meal we’d eaten only enhanced our desire for sleep. But we weren’t about to camp out on a clear night without sitting around a bonfire. So by light of the Coleman lantern, we set up our tent, built up a ‘log cabin fire’ — the ‘log cabin’ method works wonderfully and has become my favorite fire building technique — and drank one last beer together by the comforting flames.

As my stretched stomach finally began to feel comfortable again, we were treated to a short matinee show put on by a little family of raccoons. They scurried through the campground from site to site, looking for scraps of food left behind by negligent campers. It made us feel lucky to have had such a feast, and we went to bed with smiles on our faces, knowing that our hunger for both adventure and tasty seafood (and beer) had been satisfied beyond any possible doubt.

You can read about the rest of our adventure by clicking on the links below.

Oregon Road Trip: Day Eight

Mike Jandl — Mon, 18 Sep 2017 18:51:49 GMT

Whiteaker Again,
Bartender from the Magazine,
Prius Lady vs. Patient Man,
Tatooine, Comeuppance

As usual, we woke up in a leisurely manner. After a quick breakfast, we collected our aluminum contraband — we weren’t supposed to have beers at the campground, but we like beer — and disposed of it properly on our way out of Cedar Creek Campground. We’re not animals after all.

From what we’d seen the night before, we liked Eugene a lot, so we decided to spend the first part of our day experiencing some more of it. In hindsight, we maybe should have explored a different area of the city instead of the same 2–3 block radius we’d already visited. But it was hard to stay away from Whiteaker; a small, friendly neighborhood that offers a coffee shop, three breweries, and a winery all within walking distance from each other.

Our first stop was The Wandering Goat coffee shop. I took a little time to transfer some photos to my computer and write in my journal while Jane posted on Facebook to catalogue our adventures so family and friends could keep up with our movements. She also mapped out the next few days of our trip, which included plenty of activities along the coast. The Wandering Goat was a fine stop; productive, comfy, and tasty too.

Our fantastic bartender at Oakshire Brewing. We found her in our magazine!

With morning coffee still fresh in our bellies, we thought it’d be smart to pour some beer on top of it — it was more like late morning coffee. So we took another ridiculously short walk. Oakshire Brewing was just across the street from the Wandering Goat... What a great neighborhood. Jane wanted to keep planning our trip over beers, so we brought our Travel Oregon magazine inside with us. The bartender was super nice and had a lot of great suggestions for how we could spend our time in the area. Only after a flight and half a pint did we come across her photo in the Travel Oregon magazine. We all had a little laugh and she was good enough to pose next to the photo for us.

So, having finished what Jane and I both agree was one of the best beers we’ve had on the trip so far, we left Eugene and headed west towards the coast and the town of Florence.

I feel like a broken record, but as we drove we recognized that our trip’s theme of scarce campsite vacancy was further solidifying it’s presence. Despite searching our hearts out on our handy smart phones, we were still able to enjoy a beautiful view as we came into Florence. There was a picturesque bascule bridge that brought us over the the Siuslaw River. It was fittingly named the Siuslaw River Bridge. Anyhow, it was very charming, and it helped to ease our stressed-out-over-no-place-to-camp minds.

Siuslaw River Bridge in Florence, OR. Photo credit: The Oregon Coast.

With our old(they were literally quite old) friends who ran the Cedar Creek Campground from the previous night in our thoughts, we made our way south through town and headed for the dunes. Siltcoos had been their recommendation, and they did indeed have some campsites available. Unfortunately, they were all RV sites and we’re far too classy to tent camp on a narrow concrete slab… Luckily, we found a place that was closer to the ocean, which suited us just fine. Jessie M. Honeyman memorial state park had plenty of vacancies and the line to register for a site was fairly short…the first time around anyways.

From the highway, one lane of cars led down a road and up to a registration building. There, the lane was divided so that every other car would continue to a side of the registration building opposite the car ahead of and behind it. When it was our turn to approach the building, a young lady greeted us with a pleasant enough smile. She pointed us to what she claimed to be “A pretty nice site,” but she must have suffered a blow to the head recently, because it was by far the worst campsite in the park. It was no more than fifty yards past registration, and was butted up on one side against an ugly service building of some kind. The thing that really turned us off was the way she recommended the site. “It’s a pretty nice one,” she’d said… The nerve! Just lazy…

So, we drove ‘Vicci’ the civic through the rest of the campground, prospecting for some good options, and we found two sites that seemed to be alright. With high hopes of snagging one of them, we headed back to the registration building and went to the end of the line, which was now twice the length of the initial one. We’re patient people though, and we didn’t let the wait get us down. Luckily, we could see the girl who had placed us in ‘site 3’ pulling away from the building in her little golf cart, so we felt optimistic about our next try.

With three cars left in front of us, we were parked at just the right spot to see the huge sign that read something along the lines of “Please stay inside your car until your turn is up.” Obviously the purpose of the sign was to prevent any ‘budging’. Just after we noticed the sign, there came from out of a Prius directly in front of us, a 30-something blonde woman. She walked briskly up to the window. The gentleman in front of the Prius had been waiting his turn inside of his truck like someone who isn’t a complete asshole. When ‘Prius Lady’ made it to the registration window, the patient man from the truck got out quietly and walked around from the driver’s side to stand behind the dirty, illiterate, line-budger. It was a little awkward to watch, even from inside our car.

‘Prius Lady’ just stood there and acted like she didn’t see ‘Patient Man’. Maybe she’d been given awful advice on her first campsite from the same young lady who’d sabotaged us and was fed up with waiting for another site. Still, we were waiting our turn and so was everyone else. We hoped for justice. If only the camp ranger in the window would make it a point to help ‘Patient Man’ first, but no justice came. ‘Prius Lady’ finished up at the window and turned away without looking at ‘Patient Man,’ whom she had cut in front of shamelessly, and returned to her car. She pulled around his truck and rolled on down the narrow road toward what may have been our, or ‘Patient Man’s desired site. The world is a sick and twisted place…

This time around, we had no problems with registering and we arrived at one of the nicer campgrounds we’d looked at within five minutes of leaving the booth. It was our 6th time setting up camp in eight days, and we were getting to be pros. After our ritualistic setting-up-camp beer, I grabbed my camera and we set off to check out the dunes.

Path to the dunes.

One thing I really love about Oregon is the diversity in landscape. We’d driven along the rocky Columbia River Gorge, camped in the mountains, visited dense, huge forests with beautiful waterfalls, and now we were walking into a hilly desert. The sand dunes became the dominate feature of the land far more suddenly than I had expected. One second, we were walking through the woods, and the next, we were on a surprisingly steep hillside of sand. Forgive all of the Star Wars references, but visiting Tatooine had always been on my bucket list — check.

My best ‘Tusken Raider’ pose at the dunes.

Jane climbs up the steep incline of the dunes. She insisted on carrying the tripod…

After some grudgingly difficult climbing, we reached the top of the first hill. Our shoes were full of sand, and our lungs void of air. But once we’d recovered our breath, we were able to enjoy the fruits of our labor. A beautiful vast expanse of nothing but hills of sand stretched out before us, and behind us in contrast, a ceiling of pine forest, for we’d climbed high above the tops of the trees. It’s wonderful to experience new terrain, and there we stayed to watch the sun set over the dunes.

On our way back down the first hill, which was the steepest we’d climbed, we met the ‘Prius Lady’ and her husband as they ascended from the forest below. They each had a beer in their hands, and we were not displeased to see her spill her beverage into the sand as she struggled to maintain her balance on the steep incline. “Shoot!” she cried out, scrambling after the can in vain as it tumbled down the hill. Jane and I had to stifle a laugh, though we aren’t great stiflers. ‘Prius Lady’ had been a real ‘b-word’ to ‘Patient Man’ at the registration building, and I enjoyed seeing some justice served up to her, no matter how slight.

Back at the campsite, we poured the sand from our shoes and cooked up some breakfast burritos over the fire. It was a beautiful night — actually, the weather had been uncommonly beautiful for the whole trip according to all the locals we’d met. We wondered when we would witness one of the rainy days Oregon is known for, but we surely didn’t complain about our inexperience in the matter.

Our campsite in Jessie M. Honeyman memorial state park by night.

When the flames of our fire faded, we climbed into our tent and talked about the rest of our trip to come. It was exciting to know the coast would be in our lives over the next few days. The last image in my head before I slipped away was of ‘Prius Lady’ and her lost lager. I wish ‘Patient Man’ could have seen it…

You can read about the rest of our adventure by clicking on the links below.

Oregon Road Trip: Day Seven

Mike Jandl — Fri, 15 Sep 2017 19:15:40 GMT

Early Bird, Lost and Found,
Huckleberry Ice Cream, Sushi Burritos,
Close-Proximity Breweries, Secret Beers

It was surprisingly quiet when we woke up and it remained so for about 20 minutes. Then we heard a yell. “All clear, rope up!” This was followed by a buzzing sound — like a sound one would expect to hear coming from a small DIY motorized contraption which one would ride on with a cheap beer in hand, complete with a small group of on-lookers cheering one on.

I was percolating some coffee when the sound caught my attention. What the hell is that? I thought. Suddenly, as I searched for the source of the sound, a large red blur came sailing through the tops of the pines just thirty yards from our campsite. It’s a bird?! It’s a plane?! No! It’s a zip-liner… because we’re at Camp Dakota. Flying through the air looked like a great way to start the day, but I was just going to stick to coffee. This guy — a real early bird — was having a blast though. Judging by his speed in changing the ropes and harnesses from the first line to the next, all while perched on a small platform high up in the trees, it was clear he was a seasoned zip line engineer. In a flash he was gone to the next tree and out of our lives forever…

We ate a quick breakfast, noted that the chief of CAMP POLICE must have been sleeping one off (he may just work night shifts, but we prefer to think he was owning up to the fabricated back story we’d given him), and began to tear down the camp. We finished in decent time and were buckled up inside the car, which was in drive when Jane asked, “Phone? Keys? Wallet?” The keys were there (the car was in drive), my phone was plugged in and charging, but my butt felt different against the seat, misshapen somehow…no wallet.

First we searched all of the easy-to-reach, ‘obvious’ places; shorts from the day before, under and between the seats, behind the seat on the floor, glove box, etc. etc. We had no luck. Next we moved onto canvasing the ground around where the tent had been and everywhere we’d walked within and around the site. Finally we submitted and began — in a bit of a panic — to unload the trunk, unpack the tent, and make a complete mess of our previously ready-to-go travel buggy. Nothing. So we repeated the process, growing increasingly distraught.

Sampling all the different beers Oregon is known for had been a huge portion of the fun on this trip. All of those tasty IPAs, stouts, pale ales…were they going to be out of my reach from here on out? I know I look younger than I am. Many, if not most, of the bartenders here have great salaries and even benefits in some cases. Surely they’ll card me to protect their jobs. I’ll be left to watch helplessly as Jane tastes her way through the remainder of our suds-filled trip alone!! NOOO!! I screamed internally as we finished re-packing the car. By this point, all that was left to do was to ask the front desk if any lost wallets had been turned in.

As I was climbing into the passenger seat, I tried searching the pockets of my shorts one last time. It’s all in vain, no doubt, I thought to myself. Both Jane and I had looked through them at least three times, always coming up empty handed. But I could hear Alex Guinness’s voice in my head, encouraging me to trust my feelings. Slowly, carefully, I lifted the bundled-up-in-a-rage shorts from the floor of the car and reached my hand into the front right pocket.

It was like coming home. My fingers touched a smooth leather object and wrapped around it’s small body. The weight of it, the texture… my god. I retracted my hand from the pocket and thrust it up in the air triumphantly!! “Jane!” I cried, “Jane, look! I’ve found it!” And then we kissed, and got the hell out of Camp Dakota, leaving the CAMP POLICE, the zip line engineer, and all of the paintball kids behind us as we headed for Salem.

The day was hot right off the bat. The car’s external thermometer read 95 degrees by 10am and we watched it steadily rise as we approached the city. By 11:00 it read 101 degrees.

Jane and I enjoyed several tasty beers from a saw blade-style flight deck at Salem Ale Works.

Our first stop was a brewery (with wallets in hand — big thumbs up) called Salem Ale Works. We parked outside and made sandwiches — not without feeling a little shame since they could definitely see us eating them from inside. But we were on a budget, and budgets sometimes demand sandwiches from the cooler for lunch. We had a curly-haired kid serve us a flight of his favorite selections and then had a pint of our own favorites. I recommend the ‘Misery Whip’ IPA if you happen to stop by. It was delicious.

The waiter told us — a bit unenthusiastically — about what Salem had to offer for the weekend. “There’s a cultural festival down by the river. You could go to that I guess.” Apparently, that was the only thing going on that he knew about, because we couldn’t get any more information out of him. We thanked him and went back out into the blazing heat and started off for the cultural festival. We found free parking less than two blocks away, which we would later agree had been the best part about the event.

Most likely because of the scorching sun, now heating the area to 103 degrees, the festival was mostly empty. It sort of had this weird, tacky feel to it. We walked around the entire grounds and luckily found a stand selling ice cream. Joyfully, like little kids, we shared a deluxe waffle cone of Huckleberry Cheesecake under an awning. Huckleberries are huge in the area. We’d been seeing all kinds of billboards and other advertisements boasting claims like ‘Worlds best huckleberry shakes,’ so we were glad to finally have a taste. It was delicious enough to leave a bit in my beard for later, which I tried to do, but Jane wiped it off with a napkin…

Huckleberry ice cream at the Salem cultural festival.

The rest of the stands were selling mostly arts and crafts, but we didn’t see much that interested us. I’m sure there were a lot of neat pieces, but that damn sun was draining the energy out of us and our water bottles were bone dry. We took that as our sign to leave and made our way back to the car to get out of the heat. .

Back within the comfort of the air conditioning, we decided to see what Eugene had to offer. The day was still fairly young so we figured we had time to find a campsite before we explored town.

Cedar Creek Campgrounds, a privately owned place about a half an hour away from Eugene, had a few sites left. Jane and I were pleasantly surprised to find an extremely charming old couple holding down the registration booth. We told them about our road trip so far and shared our plan to travel down the coast. They were super helpful, shuffling through maps and notes they’d taken over the years of their favorite places to camp. After a few minutes of searching and delaying the cars behind us, they finally gave us a couple leads on possible sites to try near the dunes just south of Florence. We were glad to have someone show such genuine enthusiasm in helping us out. I can totally picture Jane and I running a place like this together in our golden years, just like this couple does.

Record-breaking set up time at Cedar Creek Campground.

With camp set up in what I think was record time, though we haven’t been keeping track of it, we headed back to Eugene.

Our first destination was obviously a brewery. After a few quick searches by Jane — unquestionably the master investigator/detective of the trip — we decided on Ninkasi Brewing.

There was a small tasting room where you could order beer and buy merchandise; pint glasses (we bought 2), shirts, etc., but there was very limited seating. The patio outside was huge however, and was filled with nice picnic tables. Although they served no food themselves, there were several great food trucks and restaurants nearby who would deliver right to the patio. Jane ordered an insanely tasty Sushi Burrito (two of our favorite foods put together) from Subo Sushi Burritos Food Truck, and my ‘Shroominator’ Burger from The Sandwich League was equally delicious.

Beers at Ninkasi and Jane’s Sushi Burrito from Subo Sushi Burritos Food Truck. Mmmmmm.

So with our hunger slated, but our thirst still playfully curious, we headed to the next brewery on our list; Hop Valley. It was only a block-and-a-half walk from Ninkasi so we were there in less five minutes.

Hop Valley had their own food menu, but they seemed to focus more on brewing. We didn’t have anything to eat, but I enjoyed their REVEAL pale ale, while Jane slurped a brew called the ALPHADELIC IPA. Hop Valley was good, but we both agreed that Ninkasi was superior.

We’d had just the right amount of brewskies to remain within the legal limit — nailed it — so we hit the road and headed back toward our campsite just as the sun was going down.

The only thing Cedar Creek Campgrounds and we didn’t agree on was their rule which prohibited beer on the property. We agreed to quietly disagree and we finished our night with a bonfire, sipping beer out of the yellow plastic cups that Jane fortunately had the foresight to include with the rest of our possibles. The opening of cans was covered by fake coughs and obnoxious throat-clearing, which apparently works like a charm. Secret beers…delicious.

You can read about the rest of our adventure by clicking on the links below.

Oregon Road Trip: Day Six

Mike Jandl — Tue, 12 Sep 2017 17:01:54 GMT

Real Seagulls, Waterfalls on the Dagobah System,
Camp Dakota Adventures, Camp Police,
Campers’ Quarrel, Ambitious Dreams

We woke up around 8:30 to the sound of ocean waves and the calls of seagulls (REAL seagulls! — because we were by the sea…)and stayed in bed until nine or so. By this point, we’d decided that sleeping in was crucial to the structural integrity of both our psychological and physical fortitude on a two-week long trip. Plus, we’re phenomenal sleepers. Having the luxury of hot showers two days in a row was really nice and we were feeling refreshed. Now we can go twice as long without bathing, we thought happily.

After writing a nice review for Loralie on Trip Advisor — we used discretion and kept the steal-of-a-deal she gave us to ourselves — we left Seaside behind, along with the coast for the time being, and headed back east toward Salem.

South Falls at Silver Falls State Park.

On our way we made a stop at Silver Falls State Park outside the small town of Silverton. Sliver Falls is the largest state park in Oregon and has miles of walking paths, horse paths, and bike trails. There were some killer hiking trails with beautiful views of some impressive waterfalls, and the growth on the trees was a little like what you’d see on the Dagobah System. It’s well worth visiting. The Trail of Ten Falls stretches over eight miles and passes by (you guessed it) ten waterfalls! You can actually walk all the way behind the South Falls, which is the highest waterfall in the park at 177 ft. The park was relaxing, but it was a hot day (around 90 degrees) and we couldn’t help but realize we were running out of camping options for the night..again.

Jane humors me with a beautiful smile as we enjoy hiking behind the South Falls in Silver Falls State Park.

From the picnic tables near the parking lot, we started the mentally daunting task of finding a good place to sleep. To inquire about the vacancy of campsites in all or any of Oregon’s state parks, there’s just one phone number you have to call, which made things a little easier. Every state park site we got ahold of was booked, so we moved on to private establishments. All of the campgrounds seemed to cater mostly to RVs, which surprised the hell out of us. RV campsites are everywhere. I didn’t realize how many RV campgrounds there were until this trip. It’s insane. After half an hour of scattered phone calls, each prompting an intermission of cursing under our breath and sipping from our cold, tasty comfort beers (we tried to drink one at every park we stopped at — don’t worry, it was usually only one park per day), we finally had a stroke of luck.

Camp Dakotah told us they did in fact have a tent site available, and for only 20 dollars we could make it our home for the night! We instantly felt better and decided, since we had some cell service, to research the campsite. The first page that came up shed some very bright light on what we were in for. First of all, Camp Dakota was advertised as Camp Dakota Adventures! Content on the site boasted the best paintball battles in the state and was littered with photos of young kids flying through the air on zip lines.

Camp Dakota’s webpage. We’d been misled.

Needless to say, it was not at all what we expected when we booked our site. The guy on the phone gave us not the slightest clue to what the camp was. We were kind of regretting having made reservations there. Paintball and zip lines and lots of kids running around.. But we kept an open mind. That’s the name of the game when you’ve decided to go with the flow rather than plan every stop in advance.

After leaving Silver Falls and Silverton, we pulled onto a back country road leading up a mountain and hope breathed new life. The road didn’t seem to be taking us to any kind of cheap and tacky kids camp, but straight into the rugged forest.

But eventually it did bring us to a cheap and tacky kids camp. No, not cheap, but tacky. Honestly though, it was one hundred times better than what we’d expected. It reminded me of the annual camping trips my family used to make to Campers’ Paradise when I was young. The kind of place where you saw a good deal of late night partying amongst the adults. Well, it did seem like that would be the case here, but the Camp Dakota ‘CAMP POLICE’ would abide no tom foolery to take place. They were quite a sight to behold.

Camp Dakota. Not your typical campground.

Camp Dakota’s camp policeman’s doppelganger; Jim Lahey.

Our campsite was directly across the dirt road from a trailer home which was definitely set up for the long haul. We discovered through careful observation that it was home to the man who is either the owner of the campground or the head of the CAMP POLICE. Equipped with red and blue flashing lights — just like a real cop — his red golf cart served as his chariot of justice. Instantly, I was reminded of Sunnyvale Trailer Park’s supervisor Jim Lahey, from Trailer Park Boys. It made me sad to see that he didn’t have a Ran-Ran-Bobandy in his life, but flying solo didn’t appear to keep him from finishing his rounds. As the sun was setting, he backed into his parking spot like a pro and jumped out with surprising agility. From a refrigerator just outside his trailer, he grabbed a beer and started guzzling it on his way through the door. Jim Lahey would be so proud…

Playing cribbage at our Camp Dakota site while listening to a domestic dispute amongst a camping couple…

We even got to see him in action later that night. While playing a game of cribbage by light of our Coleman lantern, we overheard — along with everyone else in the campground I would think— a man being physically abused in the ear by his girlfriend. “Oh my god!” he cried. “My ear is ringing! My ear is ringing!” At first I thought it was someone being obnoxious after a few drinks, and I suppose that may well have been exactly what it was. “That’s it, call me a cab, I’m out of here! You hit me in the ear!” the man yelled over and over, cutting the silent forest air like a knife. Surprisingly, the last phrase we heard the gentleman scream was “Do you have any weed?!” That’s honestly how the fight ended. Jane and I had a good laugh before we noticed ‘Dakotah Jim Lahey, chief of CAMP POLICE’ burst into action. He had amazing response time. His must be more of a keeper of the peace than an enforcer though, because a few minutes later he parked his cart again and didn’t appear to have a perp in tow. Maybe he was just too eager to get back to that beer.

As we pondered the possibility of future family visits to the exciting Camp Dakota, we finished our cribbage game and sat by the fire until 12:30 or so. S’mores were made and beers were drank. Fading orange flickers from the dying fire danced lazily on our faces as we thought about the luxurious life of the CAMP POLICE and wondered where we had gone wrong in our lives to have found no such fortune as ‘Lahey’ had. With the comfort of knowing he was just 50 feet away, keeping watch over us, we crawled into our tent and drifted off into dreamland, where Jane and I both might patrol theme-campgrounds of our own.

You can read about the rest of our adventure by clicking on the links below.

Oregon Road Trip: Day Five

Mike Jandl — Mon, 04 Sep 2017 01:49:28 GMT

Travel Oregon, City Block of Food Stands,
Mini-Houses at the Museum, Where the Hell is Astoria?,
Sunset at Seaside

Belgian Boys Waffle Cookies. They may be the most delicious cookie on the planet.

The first thing that popped into my head when I woke up was ‘dry mouth…need… waffle cookies.’ It doesn’t matter how long I sleep — a solid eight hours, two hours, five minutes — I always want to eat immediately after I wake up. It doesn’t have to be a meal or anything, just a little ‘snackarooniedooney,’ neighbor. So I munched a few more of the delicious waffle cookies our AirBnB host had generously stocked— I finally found the wrapper I kept (you know, so I could order bulk shipments)— and took my second shower in 12 hours. We were smelling good and looking even better, so we headed to downtown Portland to meet up with some lovely ladies from Travel Oregon.

Jane contacted Travel Oregon a few weeks before our trip began, and set up a meeting with the Content and Community Manager. We’d been toying with the idea of possibly moving to Oregon based on how we felt after our trip. The meeting, we figured, would not only facilitate a good first connection in the state, but it would also arm us with insight from a local perspective during our travels. One of the project managers working for Travel Oregon turned out to be a transplant from Minnesota so she was able to relate to all the differences we’d been noticing between the two places, which was fun.

Our worn copy of Travel Oregon.

Having lived in Minnesota all our lives, Jane and I are used to dealing with icy roads and lots of snow during winter. The Travel Oregon staff told us that just half an inch of snowfall can basically shut down all of Portland, or which ever city is unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of the little flurry. It’s shocking to Mid-Westerners, but it makes sense. There’s just not enough snowfall in most of the state to warrant an army of snowplows like we’re used to seeing back home. The climate is wildly mild in Oregon, which is one of the main attractions for me. Both Jane and I yearn to know a winter without sub-zero temperatures and early morning automobile excavations. I’d be happy to let a half inch of snow keep me home for the day… just to see what it’s like. The Postal Service’s slogan in Oregon must read, “Neither rain, nor….well rain isn’t going to stop us.”

One incredibly valuable piece of info the Travel Oregon gals imparted to us was the location of an entire city block of food stands. Alder Street reminded me of a county fair in a way. I think it was the high number of lines. Every stand along the street had a bustling line of people waiting to buy whatever they were selling. Only the rides, animals, games, prizes, performers, and music were missing. It maybe wasn’t really that much like a county fair. Like a food court…food court-yard? Regardless of what it reminded me of, there were plenty of attractive options to choose from. Jane enjoyed the incredibly descriptive ‘Big Fresh Bowl,’ and into my face, I stuffed one of the best gyros I’ve ever had.

Jane’s ‘Big Fresh Bowl’ from a food stand on Alder St.

Jane and I at the Portland Art Museum.

Overwhelmed by the options downtown, we finally decided to check out the Portland Art Museum. Jane loves working as the marketing manager at Glensheen Mansion — a historical museum in Duluth, MN — so she’s always chomping at the bit to check out new museums. It was twenty bucks a piece, which we thought was a little high, but it was a nice escape from the busy streets. My favorite exhibit was a series of built-to-scale models and photos of the architect John Yeon’s work. The Portland native’s designs were considered to be some of the most progressive in Mid-century modernism. I guess I would have let him build me a house.

A model of one of John Yeon’s designs in the Quest for Beauty art exhibit at the Portland Art Museum. Photo credit: Portland Art Museum.

Jane stands next to a phallic Portland sign.

There were a few other stops in Portland, like the supposedly haunted Old Town Brewing in ‘Old Town/China Town’ —it didn’t seem to be haunted but the beer was great — but we were ready to leave before too long. Loads of people we’ve talked with have hailed Portland, and I’m sure that with more time we could have discovered their reasons, but it didn’t feel like the right place for us. Granted, we were basing this off of visiting downtown and none of the surrounding area. We just knew that we wanted to spend our limited time elsewhere. It’s likely that we were just in ‘Camping Mode,’ and we wanted to get back to the natural beauty that Oregon has to offer.

As we left Portland, I knew we were headed for Salem, however, we decided to first make a stop in Astoria — the first permanent U.S. settlement on the Pacific coast. Now, for some reason, I thought Astoria was southwest of Portland, and northwest of Salem. That meant we could just head straight west from Portland to the coast. Then we’d drive south, enjoying some oceanic scenery before turning east again to drive toward Astoria. From there we could continue onto Salem and we’d be there with plenty of time to set up camp before dark. It turns out I didn’t really know where Astoria was though…at all. In reality, Astoria is in the north-west corner of the state, which sort of threw off the schedule I’d been referring to in my head. Jane knew exactly where Astoria was the whole time, so I looked like a complete idiot…which I probably am from time to time. But whatever, my phone was dead and I wasn’t about to jump in a time-machine and start reading paper maps…that would be ridiculous! Seriously though, maps are awesome. I should get more maps.

Excerpt from my Oregon journal. Note: While these maps are extremely aesthetically pleasing, they are not to scale.

Astoria was a nice little town. We stopped at Fort George brewery — recommended to us by the Travel Oregon ladies — and shared a flight. They had an amazing IPA called 3-Way, of which we each enjoyed a pint while talking to the owner about her history with the brewery and the town. Sadly, she also informed us that good places to camp in the area were scarce, so we left in search of dwellings further south while we still had some light. All of our phone calls ended with no luck however and as it got later we grew more desperate. There was no way we were going to make it to Salem. As we pulled into the town of Seaside(it’s on the side of sea) we were worried and a little disappointed to have our fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants approach to this trip finally trump/donald us. We were on a real low-down-bummer and were just getting used to the feeling when we got our first real look at the Pacific Ocean, and luckily just as the sun was setting. It’s kind of like Lake Superior, but not really. It’s not really the same at all.

Our first look at the Pacific came at sunset near Seaside, OR.

Ah, the ocean. Cool breezes and mist and all that. Camping out on the beach had crossed our minds, but ocean camping would be different and we fear change — plus there were a bunch of trucks speeding up and down the beach. On my first try, I reached The Inn at Seaside. The man on the phone offered us their last room for half the cost. We took it, obviously. When we walked into the lobby the voice from the phone call greeted us, and I saw that the man I’d spoken to on the phone was actually a woman named Loralie. Loralie was cool as hell and I felt awful to have pictured her as a man — she just has a very deep and scratchy voice. She gave us all kinds of tips and information to help us enjoy the coast, plus she gave me a cookie and saltwater taffy — cookies and taffy have been making surprisingly consistent appearances on the trip so far.

Our beds were comfy and we did not jump up and down on them in tandem. That would be childish… I took another shower — that makes three; three showers in 24 hours. It was becoming a life of exceedingly comfortable lodging. Even so, as we crawled into bed we were excited to get back to camping. There’s something about camping, isn’t there? I don’t know what it is. But there’s definitely something about it. SOME…THING! (William Shatner voice)

William Shatner sees “…. something on the wing…some…thing” in The Twilight Zone.

You can read about the rest of our adventure by clicking on the links below.