Well, we are traveling at the speed of fossilized tortoises, but the process is delightful. We drove over the mountains from Eugene, Oregon, following the Mackenzie river. Santiam Pass was the scene of a bad forest fire this year, but the devastation wasn’t as bad as expected, and you can see how a fire clears out the forest for new growth.

The first night up in the woods, we froze our butts off. Thanks for leaving the rainfly off, Barry, so we could see the stars! He says he’s not gonna do that again.

Then on to John Day and the fossil beds, and the Painted Hills. A couple of short hikes, since my sprained ankle is healing. This morning, after camping along the John Day river, we saw Sumpter and a huge gold dredge that was still operational in 1954.

In Baker City, we stopped for provisions and a picnic in the city park. Lo and behold, a public library right next door, with FREE internet access. OK, that’s enough of this drivel, time to hit the road again. We’re headed across Idaho this afternoon, and we want to get someplace (where?) before dark…

When Barry and I set off on Friday from Camano Island, our infamous “Peepcar” was full to the gills. Thank goodness for side mirrors, for their was no seeing over the top of the stuff we crammed in. Most importantly, we were on our way and healthy, at last.

We made a long, interesting detour to Vashon Island to say farewell to Margaret Willson and see her new vacation property and “cottage.” Along the way, we stopped by K-Jo farms, where we hope to someday build our next boat. If Karen and Joe still need a barn in a few years, we’ll build them one (and borrow it for a little while to construct a boat in it).

When we dropped Margaret off at the bus stop, who should be driving her bus but Metro’s finest, Pat Ingrassia. So three of the four founding board members of Bahia Street had a five-minute reunion before we headed south.

One of my favorite things about Seattle is that it’s so close to my two sisters in Eugene, Oregon. And I have such cooooooool sisters, with great families. We get together to just hang out and talk, and we’re all great talkers. Uh, maybe we should have even stayed home and just talked, because we actually attempted to hike twice this weekend. On Saturday, we got hit by a massive hailstorm on the trail, and on Sunday, I sprained my ankle. Go figure. I think that’s Fate’s way of telling me I should be on a boat, not hiking on land. Or else that I should be wearing my hiking boots instead of my sneakers.

We’ll be back on the road heading east tomorrow (Tuesday) morning, sprain and all. Stay tuned!

While waiting for Barry to get over the chicken pox, we took a couple little side trips with Sharon and Dave. It is possible to travel safely with a contagious person, but ordering ice cream for him is a challenge (I used the digital camera to record the flavors, then took it out to the parking lot and played back the photos for him).

On Wednesday, we made a short run up to Anacortes to see the lovely views from Cap Sante and Mount Erie. We’ve been sailing the San Juans out of Anacortes for years, so we know where to find the marinas, grocery stores for provisioning, hardware stores and West Marine. But our perspective is limited to a fish-eye view. Low to the water and slow-moving.

Sharon and Dave showed us Anacortes and the San Juans from a bird’s perspective. High above the water, you can see for miles, dozens of shades of blue. You can look right over the top of the largest island in the US (Whidbey) and see Port Townsend. We’ve seen many orcas, but this was the first time we’d ever seen a fox.

On Friday (Sharon’s birthday!) we headed inland for a visit to Mount Baker. We were driving along a 2-lane country road with Barry and me in the back seat. Dave was driving, Barry and Sharon were chatting, and I was looking out the window, watching the world go by. Cute little farmhouses, barns, horses, green fields. A tiger. A WHAT? I interrupted the conversation.

“Hey! I just saw a, uh, you know, a li– no, a tiger!” Dave didn’t alter speed. Barry and Sharon turned and looked at me. Meanwhile, my nose was glued to the window where my view of the tiger was blocked by a long, low ranch house. At the other end of the house was a driveway, with a sign, “No tiger access.”

The rest of the day, we saw some of the most beautiful scenery in the world. Snow-capped mountains, reflected in still lakes surrounded by fall colors. Blue peaks in a blue sky, marching off into the distance. Even ptarmigans. But I was blase. Nothing could top my tiger.

I can’t believe it. Summer was ending and it was time to hit the road for New Orleans. We had argued and debated and discussed, and we were just about done sorting our personal belongings. And then, out of the blue, I got fever, chills, and SPOTS. For about ten days, I was totally miserable, out of commission, and (uh oh) contagious.

I’m all better now. We finished the arguments and discussions, took an entire truckload to the Goodwill, and brought the rest of the stuff here on Camano Island, where it will be packed into the car or stored.

And then, what should happen, but Barry comes down with fever, chills, and SPOTS! He’s parked in the same recliner where I recuperated from my knee surgery earlier this year. I think our insurance company is going to come take that chair away, because whenever one of us sits there, it costs the insurance company money in doctor’s bills and medicines!

We should only be delayed another week or so, but isn’t it funny how life throws these little curve balls at you when you least expect (or need) them?