Ms Darlene visits Oregon

Flying home is such a drag, especially when you're flying from the west coast to home and negotiating time zones.   It means to get home a decent hour, you pretty much have to be at the airport in Portland late morning and even with that, the possibility of landing in Baton Rouge or New Orleans can go way into the hours.  At least once, I've landed at midnight.

My company views flying a spouse to meet you as a gain because you don't lose the Friday going home and the Monday returning.  So with that in mind, Ms Darlene flew out for a long weekend in the northwest.

Originally, we'd planned on making a run up to Seattle but she said she'd prefer to see snow and mountains.  Ah ha! Mt. Hood would be just the ticket.

She flew out on a Thursday and so I took Friday off as a vacation day and blasted our way up to Mt Hood after visiting places like Multnomah and Wahkeena Falls .  Snow became very real by the time we reached Sandy, Oregon and she wasn't disappointed.   Many hotels higher on the mountain were booked solid so we booked a room at one of the lodges, just below the big ski area.  The scenery was gorgeous, especially for a couple of Louisiana residents, and spotted several deer near the lodge.

Saturday and Sunday was spent in and around the Timberline Lodge where we rode the ski lift up and gawked at the beauty like a pair of flatland goobers.

Ms Darlene has now deemed Portland/Mt Hood as her favorite place in the world and is now a Sneaux Bunny.  Bear in mind that she said the same thing about Maui, Los Angeles,  Honolulu and Carmel.  This too may pass.

Anyway, it was great and I loved her coming up for a long weekend and look forward to her joining me in another location.

After Portland, it's on to Denver for a brief two week assignment.

 

Disgusted

I don't know how I should feel about this.  Sometimes angry and past irate, maybe the word is just "disgusted".

It pretty much started last Friday, traveling from Portland to Baton Rouge when I experienced several delays and reschedulings of comedic proportions after arriving in Houston.  Originally, my flight was supposed to connect in Houston and deliver me in Baton Rouge at 8:32 pm.  I, along with others, marveled at how United Airways would cancel or rearrange flight schedules several times in an hour.  One group of passengers on another flight became so angry they began yelling at the gate attendant causing her to call security.  This in turn began to stress out a lot of other folks but we took a stoic position,  thinking the circus had now gone past anger and had evolved into laughter when our own flight began the same series of events.  Somewhere between a couple of gate changes and a half dozen new estimated departures, I eventually landed in Baton Rouge at midnight.

For my return back to Portland, I arrived at the Baton Rouge airport well before sunrise Monday morning and was presented with a flight cancellation.  It seems United didn't want to fly due to bad weather.  OK, I can accept that but they auto rescheduled me for the same flight Tuesday.  Nope, that won't do, so I went to talk to an agent.

Agent Marvin, with fingernails long enough to be considered lethal, pecked away at the keyboard and told me the earliest flight I could connect with and arrive in Portland would be at 5:15 pm to Houston and catching a 9:10 flight that would plop me down at the bewitching hour of 11:55.  Nice, really nice.  I begrudgingly accepted it and called my wife to come get me so I wouldn't have to lounge around in the airport for eleven hours.  I have to mention here, that I did check other airline flight schedules as well as speaking directly with our company travel office who confirmed I was stuck with my choice if I wanted to get there.

5:15 pm arrived and UAL greeted me with a flight cancellation but was given another flight out at 6:15.  My United Airways app began flashing me with periodic departure updates, now at 7:55, then 6:09, 6:36, 7:01, 7:23.  Our plane landed at 7:20 but due to lightening flashes in the area, the ground crew wouldn't/couldn't unload the plane or passengers so it sat 100 yards from the jetway before pulling into the gate at 8:00 pm.

I asked one of the crew at the gate if there would be any chance at all to catch the 9:10 connecting flight in Houston.  Without even blinking, he answered, "Nope!"  So here I go re-booking again for Tuesday morning...5:15 am.  I called my wife to come get me, went downstairs to collect my bag and went home.

Tuesday morning, arriving at BTR, I'm greeted with yet, another flight cancellation.  Fog, I think.  Same story but this time Marvin puts me on a 11:44 am flight to connect in Houston.  I'm still not going to get to Portland until 8:32 but that's life.

An added bonus to my morning was that the TSA found an unusual interest in my carry-on bag.  She delved deeply into it pulling out cameras, lenses, extra cell phones, a small tripod and a week's worth of socks and underwear.  Fifteen minutes later and 3 additional passes through the X-ray she hands me back my bag and a tub full of articles she couldn't make fit and suggested I repack it.

Arrrggghhhh..........disgusted and I'm not even in Portland yet.

Second weekend in Portland

What a bummer.  Saturday morning, I thought I would be able to go up to Mount Hood and Frog Lake to see a sled dog race but the weather did not want to cooperate.   When I woke, it was raining but I thought a higher elevation would eliminate the problem.  It did, kinda sorta.  It turned to snow.

The further up Hwy 26 I went, the worse it got.  As I passed through Sandy, Oregon the snow changed from small flakes to big ones with an attitude and within a few miles all lanes were covered with the white stuff and my confidence was waning with each hill and curve the Hyundai Sonata approached.  As my mind pondered whether or not to turn back, suddenly I came upon a pair of wrecked trucks.  Apparently, the 18 wheeler jack-knifed in the middle of the lane and the cab-over single axle box truck had T-boned it.

Driving past them, I looked for a convenient spot to turn around so I could go back and render aid if possible.  By the time I could pull over safely, wait for other vehicles to pass and safely do a U turn,  a state trooper had pulled up and a couple of other cars had stopped.

Figuring, I had nothing more to offer than just getting in the way, I drove on past them as I met an ambulance coming up the hill.

Uninspiring as it was, I drove into downtown Portland and cruised a couple of camera shops, admiring seriously over priced camera gear before eventually heading back to Clackamas.

Sunday was much the same.  I got as far as Sandy, Oregon before the snow began falling hard as I began to reflect on Saturday's incidents.  The LED signs on the side of the road warned me that I needed chains or traction tires to proceed further.   Several years ago, while working down in southern Oregon, state police were known for writing tickets to those ignoring the signs as they attempted passes between Klamath Falls and Medford.  With this in mind, I stopped for coffee at a 7-11 and chatted up an Indian guy who confirmed how much the police loved writing tickets.

Anyway, I blew the rest of the day off , went back to the hotel, took a nap and took care of a couple of weeks worth of laundry.

Addendum:  As fate would have it, Monday arrived with stars out before sunrise and the sun was bright the entire day and as I turned off the interstate to my hotel, Mt Hood was finally visible, 35-40 miles away.  I'll never understand.

Nikon D7000  f/5.6  1/640 sec  ISO-200  200mm cropped 100%

Another Shot at Oregon

After working Louisiana for nearly 3 months, Delta Airlines and the Hilton chain probably thought I'd fallen off the face of the earth and I too, had become somewhat complacent, enjoying spending time with my wife,  relatives and my stuff.  Oh well, the break's over.

During my two weeks of retreat from assignments, I constantly was on edge waiting for the phone to ring, announcing an assignment in a cornfield in Nebraska or in a pine thicket in L.A. (Lower Alabama) but instead got the call to Portland.

It has been several years since I've visited the state so I was naturally excited to book a flight and buzz up here a week ago.  This long Presidents' Day weekend gave me a chance to get out.

My first adventure was east of here near Troutdale.  There are several waterfalls in the area and I did a little hiking for well needed exercise and a chance to take a few pictures.  My first stop was Wahkeena Falls, a long cascading stream flowing down the mountainside.  I only walked a ½ mile or so up to the midpoint before turning back.

Multnomah Falls was really my target.  A couple of my friends had visited there a year or so ago and sent me pictures of them there so I wanted to go as well.  One of the friends had been goading me to walk (climb) to the top and warned me to wear good shoes When I arrived, I checked out the maps around it and discovered that the trek was approximately 1.3 miles up the mountain to where the water fell into a duel set of pools. Along the way, I wandered off the main trail to explore the raging river that would eventually be the falls. 

I accepted the challenge and started up, stopping occasionally to take a picture but in reality, it was to collect my energy and get a breath.  The asphalt coverd trail zig-zagged through a series of switchbacks that rose at probably a 20% grade, leaving my knees and hips aching.  The trip down was a piece of cake but somehow I managed to form and eventually pop a blister between a couple of toes.


With my sense of accomplishment at hand, I found a few more interesting sites.

Monday, even though it was raining, I took a ride west over to the Oregon Coast.  My target there was Cannon Beach and the huge Haystack Rock that I'd heard so much about and seen pictures of.  During the two hour trip from Portland, I saw a little snow at higher elevations and hoped it wouldn't get thick enough to need chains which I didn't have.  No big deal there, my concerns were soon assuaged.

Even though it was misting rain and in the low 40°s, quite a few people were on the beach and in true Oregonian fashion, no one had an umbrella.  There's something about the area that almost demands you don't carry one.

Anyway, it was a pleasant experience walking quite a distance along in the sand.

Mama's 90th surprise birthday party

She was ninety on January 12 but we delayed having a surprise party for her on the following Sunday.  We figure that there were 85-100 well wishers gathered in Farmerville, Louisiana to give her a first surprise party.  Mama told me it was the most fun she'd had in ages.

She had both her living sisters and brother there as well as a host of nieces, nephews and friends.  Both, my brother and I had our kids and grandkids there too.  A total of 8 grand children and 7 great grandchildren.

Hey, the Canbile Ramblers even provided entertainment.  It just can't get any better than that!  Check out that wash tub.

The Funeral

I was caught in traffic at lunch Thursday, as what I can only assume was a fireman's funeral crawling slowly through Ville Platte, grinding traffic to a complete halt.  There must have been a dozen modern fire engines with sirens blaring that preceded this one.  I was overwhelmed at the solemnity of the firemen riding on the old Mack engine that served as the funeral caisson.

The one on the front running board, standing at attention, particularly impressed me with his haunting stare that seemed to penetrate straight through the camera and looked directly into my head.

I am not sure of the significance, if any at all, but he was the only one without a cap.

Hannah Abigail Albritton

Welcome to the world, sweetie.

Scary, isn't it?  Yeah, I know, me too.

Hannah was born at the Woman's Hospital, in Baton Rouge and weighed 7 lbs, 13 oz.  Everyone is doing well and soon will be headed home with Mom, Dad and big brother Henry to celebrate Christmas.

She, is absolutely gorgeous.

Rollin' On The River

After watching Henry's last basketball game of the season, Jared and I took his father-in-law's boat out on the river.  Actually, it was the intercostal waterway beginning at the Port of  Baton Rouge at Port Allen but who's counting?

Earlier that morning, I'd ridden into town on the Harley, ignoring the lower 40° temperatures, figuring it would eventually warm.  That was a bad guess....it didn't.  Anyway, we launched the boat and were on the water around 11:00 A.M. supposedly testing a new tachometer which never registered, maybe because it was defective or maybe because it was wired wrong, nevertheless, it didn't work on the old 70 hp Evinrude.  Even though we figured that out in the first 5 minutes, the notion of a river ride was there and before long, we were headed south on the Gulf Inter-Coastal Waterway that eventually makes it's way toward Morgan City and ultimately into the Gulf of Mexico.  Completed in 1949, it is part of a sophisticated network of waterways that connects the Mississippi River with waterways across the southern United States.

Even though the temperatures were cool on the water, the bright sun helped quite a bit as we enjoyed seeing life along the river, disturbing Louisiana Blue Herons, dodging the occasional log in the water and negotiating around ever present barge traffic.

One special treat was spotting a young Bald Eagle a few miles south of Bayou Choctaw.  I can still kick myself for forgetting my good camera and having to rely on the cell phone instead.

While we could have gone on and on, boat motors are not known for their gasoline efficiency so we turned around just south of the Bayou Jacob Road in Iberville Parish and made our way home.

A nice venture and experience for sure that was a little different, especially for me.

Monster!

I think we may have created a monster.

Saturday morning I took an early ride up to Baton Rouge, where my grandson Henry and his kindergarten buddies were engaged in the beginnings of a basketball team.  Unfortunately for Henry & Co., they were playing a muuuuuuch older group......first graders, but somehow they managed to score two or three times.  His dad (my son) is one of the coaches.

That was great in it's self but the real story begins after the game, when his dad just kidding around (or at least I thought he was kidding) asked Mr. Allstar Kindergarten Athlete if he wanted to ride with "Pop"....that would be me.

"Suuuuuurrre!", he said, with eyes as big as the headlights on the Harley.

We had planned on me dropping by their house after the game, so when they took off in the truck and I followed along later, I pondered how this was going to work out and at the same time trying to imagine the conversation that went on with Henry's mom when his dad came in saying their 5 year old was about to be inducted into the world of motorcycling.  The imagery of tattoos, chains and leather were probably floating around was drifting around there somewhere.

Never the less, as I leaned low turning into their driveway, all three were coming out to meet me.  Henry was adorned with an LSU kiddie football helmet reminiscent of Jack Nicholson's character in Easy Rider.

Henry's little legs were nowhere near long enough to touch the back foot boards so they suggested he sit on the gas tank and lean back on me.  After a brief reminder on what items were hot, he eagerly crawled on board astride the 5 gallon motorcycle tank and acquired a death grip on the mid part of the handlebars.  Asking if he was ready, and getting a head nod affirmation, I fired Boudreaux up and we circled the lawn and eased out on the street.

Although our cross country adventure was only few minutes  and just 4 or 5 blocks in the neighborhood,  it was a ride he will remember.  I would have loved to have taken him further but since he did not have a legal helmet and the possibility of a Baton Rouge policeman could have cruised by and found issues with our adventure, I thought it best to get him back as soon as possible.

He's already looking forward to another ride.

Freezing fingers and plastic shields

Around this time of the year, when the temperature drops and I take long(er) motorcycle trips, I'm usually able to stay comfortable with enough layers and leather.  My feet, stay relatively warm with thermal socks but regardless of how hard I try, at interstate speeds, the constant wind on my hands and fingers turn them into icicle digits.  I can't seem to find hand protection that can withstand  several hours of 70 mph blasts of 35 - 40° humid air defeating some really great ski gloves.

I've thought about heated grips, electric gloves, bat-wing fairings for the bike and all sorts of concoctions that either were non-effective, too expensive or simply too much trouble to deal with.

Recently, someone sent me a link showing some clear acrylic wind screens that would block the wind and looked like something I could deal with.  They were not too big, not all that expensive and didn't require batteries or electrical hookups, all for $89 plus tax and shipping.  I began thinking on these and figured, "What the heck?  I can make my own!"

Bouncing the idea off my brother-in-law and with a general design in my head, made my way to Home Depot for some materials.  There, I bought a pair of corner braces ($2.87), 3' metal strap ($6), box of nuts and bolts ($3) and a sheet of Lexan ($18) clear plastic.  The Lexan has more flexibility than plexiglas, relatively flexible, can be shaped with heat and most important, is not quite as likely to split or shadow when drilling or sawing it.

After settling on a general design, I cut out a rough draft on cardboard and mounted it on the corner braces that I had attached to the mirror bolts on the handlebars.  Applying masking tape to both sides of the plastic, I transfered the shape from my template with a marker and cut it out with a jig-saw.  The reason for masking tape is two fold; (1) the tape gives you something to trace the pattern to and (2) further reduces the chance of the Lexan splitting or shattering when the jig-saw starts it's cut.  After the shape was cut, I sanded the edges and drilled holes for the mounting brackets to attach the Lexan.  It should be noted here, I recommend using Lexan by brand because my first attempt was with plain plexiglas which shattered when I attempted to cut it out.  It was cheaper but not near as strong.  Add another $8.00 plus gas back to Home Depot on the cost.

It took a bit of time to adjust the angle to be aesthetically appealing and to be effective in blocking the wind  but I believe I have something I can live with for the next 3 months when the weather warms.  This coming weekend, I probably will refine the shape a bit more to remove a few flat spots and make it more rounded.

Hopefully, my new hand shields will keep my hands from losing all feeling on my next 500 mile ride in January or February.