Koosah and Sahale Falls (OR)



Sahale Falls.

In late June 2011, work took me back to Oregon.  By the way, even I’m though based in DC, much of my work involves projects in the Pacific NW, so I seem to get out that way every so often.  This particular trip took me to the Oregon Cascades east of Eugene and I was able to scope out a few waterfalls while the early summer runoff was still tumbling down the mountains.  Koosah and Sahale Falls on the McKenzie River were a couple of highlights.



Koosah Falls.







Old Town Alexandria, VA

Old Town Alexandria on the Virginia side of the river is another great area, with plenty to fill up a day or a week of casual touristing.  But since we live close by, we get to sample this quaint, historic place a little at a time.  One of our favorites is the Tiffany Tavern on King Street, where local and regional bluegrass bands play every Friday and Saturday night (no cover!).  The laid-back venue is perfect for hours of knee-slapping and boot-tapping—and the bleu cheese burgers are excellent.  Thanks to Andy at work for telling me about it.  Up the street, Misha’s  Coffeehouse is one of Kris’ favorites (along with the Turkish bowl shop nearby), and we both enjoy hanging by the harbor and rambling through the neighborhoods.  It’s an easy walk from the bar to the Metro, which allows us to linger late and still be home at a respectable hour.  We’ve also taken the foot ferry back to Georgetown in the summer when it was toasty warm out at dusk.

King Street near Tiffany Tavern.

King Street, Old Town.

Tiffany Tavern.

Token pedestrian.

Some architecture and a boat.

Glass music virtuoso.

DC sights

There is so much to see in Dee See that I could probably post something new to this blog every day and never get to anything else.  Instead, I’ll post some photos now and again of some of the things and places that we’ve been able to enjoy along the way.  Here’s a few to start.

Dumbarton Bridge, near Georgetown.

Capitol Hill.

Abe's Memorial.

The Capitol from Washington Monument.

Nationals Park.

Rock Creek Park.

C & O Canal.

Watergate Hotel.

Georgetown waterfront.

Barack consulting with Kris.

Charlie McCarthy at NMAH.

Dumbo at NMAH.

Shark teeth hunting at Chesapeake Beach (MD)

Shark teeth hunting.

In June, 2011, Mark, a friend at the office, invited another cohort, Bill, and I to join him and his daughter in a shark teeth hunting expedition on the shore near the town of Chesapeake Beach, Maryland.  While the experts raked in the teeth by the dozens, Bill and I stumbled around aimlessly finding zip.  It does appear to be something you develop an eye for, as our guides were clearly demonstrating.  After a time, I finally found a few tiny ones and dropped them in a pocket.  Bill, I think, was just getting a kick out of being on the beach with friends.  He and I started our new jobs on the same day late January and both our wives were still “back home” a number of states away.  He happily offered his truck and helped me move a futon couch into my new seventh floor apartment in Silver Spring.  I bought him dinner in return.  I wished I’d done more to enjoy Bill’s always upbeat company.  Toward the end of 2012, Bill passed away from an aggressive cancer that took us all by surprise.  I'm told he went courageously.  Rest in peace, friend.

Mark (left) and Bill (right).

Colorado snow (CO)

May in the Rockies

In late May 2011, I landed for a few days at a conference in Breckenridge CO.  At close to 10,000 feet above sea level, we weren’t surprised, of course, to be surrounded by snowy mountains or flurried upon during the week.  It wasn’t particularly cold and the sunshine powered through when we needed it.  Other than some enjoyable wandering around town (this place must be a total zoo in ski season), the only little trek I managed was up a forest road with a couple I’d just met.  The man I encountered at the Denver airport while we waited for the same shuttle van.  He was reading Born to Run, which was already on my book list (I read it later, fun read).  He and his wife picked me up, we wandered upward till we started post-holing in the snow, ate a snack then headed back down for a nice dinner in town.  Uneventful, but a mini-tantalizer for summer trips to come into the higher Rockine country above (14,000’ or bust!).  I lost the fellow’s business card, but he and his wife were headed for Argentina in January 2012 to climb Aconcagua, the highest peak in the Americas.  I’ve had my sights on that one as well and wished I could join them.  Alas, another day…

Star-spangled dangle at 555 feet 5 inches

It was dry out and very grey at 6:45 this morning.  The forecast said no rain until after 8:00 am, so I looped a leg over my bike for the 7-mile cruise to work, which is just lovely by the way, 2/3 of it on paved paths.  I wanted to see the climbers on the monument who were scheduled to check out the earthquake damage while dangling from ropes.

I got there about 7:15 am and the clouds were just starting to rumble as a couple dozen photographers with tripods and a dozen more tv-satellite-news trucks were neatly set up to film the excitement.  Park police guarded the nearer grounds.  But no sign of any climbers.  Maybe I should say hammerers.  Though absent at the moment, they are surely quite experienced climbers, but armed with geological rock hammers (the Post says mallets, whatever) and intending to bang on each block to see if it rings pure like a sound stone should, or if it sounds dead and broken.  They plan to look for cracks, missing mortar, anything astray.

Staring up at the old monument (our American Cheops?) is something I never seem to tire of.  I could have lingered awhile, but several sprinkles splattered sparingly, soon to be followed by a skittering shower and not-so-distant thunder.  I parted, picking up the pace, pedaling past the poor and perhaps perturbed paparazzi previously prepared for pretty pictures, and soon to be pelted with presidential precipitation--astride the Potomac.  Ten blocks later, the rain huffed into a medium-sized deluge and I was still five minutes from my building.  But that was sufficient to drench every square centimeter of the frontal parts of my wardrobe.  I had to hide behind my desk for half the day.  Now I see why the other guys bike to work in their spandex.  Guess it's time to stash an emergency change of clothes at the office.

The bigger storm was supposed to hit tonight.  At 5:00 pm, however, it was sunny out, so I braved the bike ride home, stopping on the way once again to crane my neck at the monumental  monument.  This time four climbers (two men and two women, I learned later) were hanging off what appeared to be no more than a lasso at the tippy-tippy-tippy top, like ants--like little runts of the ant family--effortlessly clinging to a light pole.  It was quite a sight with the sun shining between cloud layers.  We'll see what the reports say about their nose-to-stone and ear-to-hammer observations.

I watched for nearly an hour, straddling my bike and imagining how I might manage the ropes and the gear on such a perfect pinnacle.  Yes, I would love that job.  And I'd do it for free.  I'd even pay them $1,000 to haul me up there for an hour--and fifty bucks more if I can take my bike.

--Traveler

Where did the summer go?

I'm nearly stunned (well, not really) to see that I haven't posted here for four months.  It could be that I've been having way too much fun trailsterizing, though I wish I could say I was slamming two boots down the AT all summer, trekking gluttonously.  Or it could be that I've been procrastinating.  Probably--no definitely--it's been more of the latter than the former, unfortunately.  In any case, I will get my staff busy on a few short posts to highlight some worthy summer adventures along the Right Coast.  And I'll see too if I/we can scribble up a spicy end to my previous post on a trip done way back in May.  Old Rag was such a joy I did it again (the easy way) in August.  I also picked up a new camera some months back, so will soon litter this fine blog with copious pics of the Rag and the great outside.  Cheerio.

--Traveler