Miracle Worker

San Jose, CA

Well, we visited the miracle welder this morning. We got in to San Jose a bit after 1 last night, then stayed up till 4 chatting with Brandon and Stephen. Brandon just got a job with Google doing network security. Stephen has decided that to write well he’ll have to stop writing for the film industry.

Berck drove yesterday until it got dark; then I drove the rest of the way. We’d been up since 5:30 a.m. We finally got some sleep 22 hours later. We slept for a few hours and then got up to head to the shop. The mechanic is an old guy with a pot belly and white Amish beard. He took one look under the hood and declared, “Junk. It can’t be welded.”

So now we’re trying to figure out what to do about getting a “new” header and how to put it on.

Orcas Island

Orcas Island, WA — Southern Oregon

Yesterday we explored Orcas Island, the most populous of the San Juan Islands between Seattle and Victoria, British Columbia. We drove up to Anacortes to take the ferry over. Berck spent the whole ferry ride with his face in the wind; it was a little too chilly for me.

We drove around to Moran State Park and drove to the top of Mt. Constitution, an impressive rise 2400 feet above Puget Sound. They say on a clear day you can see all the way to Mt. Rainier. It was clear where we are…the San Juan Islands get sun most of the year in contrast to dreary Seattle, but there were clouds covering the mainland’s coast.

Next we visited some waterfalls and then hiked around one of the lakes, pretty big lakes for an island. We drove back to the ferry dock and the only restaurant we’d seen all day. It was a packed dining room of the Orcas Hotel, full we discovered because Thursday was two-for-one night. They were full of reservations, but fortunately for us the bar was empty, though not for long. We enjoyed some delicious salmon and lamb and some local brews. Then we left and pulled the car around to take the next ferry back.

Except no one else was waiting. I’d read the ferry schedule wrong, looking at the Sat./Sun. section instead of Mon.-Fri. The next ferry scheduled was for 10:50 p.m., but that was only on Fridays. The last ferry had left 10 minutes earlier. We were stuck for the night. And our tent was set up in Jenifer’s backyard drying out, our sleeping bags in her guest room.

Fortunately, Jenifer had loaned us her info book on the islands, in which was listed every hotel and bed-n-breakfast on the island. I called the cheapest one ($70, yikes!) and got directions. The owner met us in the office (I’d talked to his son on the phone). He had just bought the place and was still giddy about it. There was only one other room taken, so he said, “Tell you what, just for fun I’ll give you one of the ocean view rooms for the price of the cheaper ones.” He even gave us a king bed. Ahhh… a bed.

The ocean view didn’t do us a whole lot of good because it was well past dark when we arrived, and we had to rise at 5:30 a.m. to make the 7 a.m. ferry. It was raining. We’ve been very lucky; it didn’t rain on us at all exploring Seattle or Orcas, just when we were driving.

After stopping by Jenifer’s house to pack up our stuff, we got back on the road. We’re racing the clock now, trying to get to San Jose tonight so that a guy in San Francisco can see if he can weld our cracked header pipe back together tomorrow. Otherwise, he’s not open until Tuesday.

So we’re on the way back now. We gave up on Vancouver. We’ll have to stop there when we move to Alaska, I guess.

We ran into nutso traffic at 2 p.m. around Portland that put us back some. It was raining, which may have had something to do with it. I’d hate to see the city at rush hour!

There’s something about Washington and Oregon drivers. They spread out over four lanes all going about five miles an hour over the speed limit. It drives Berck batty because he’s got to weave crazily around them to go faster than they are. “It’s not that they’re bad drivers; they just don’t care!” Maybe they need to drink more coffee.

It’s true about Seattle…every street corner has a Starbucks. And if there’s not one, there’s a Tully’s or a Seattle’s Best. I guess you’ve got to drink coffee to keep warm in the constant drizzle. We passed a Starbucks by the fishmarket that had a line going out the door and down the block, and as we walked down the street, we passed several people heading toward it saying things like, “Aw, man, look at the line! That’ll take all day!” I don’t know why they were so keen on that particular Starbucks…there were plenty a block away nearly empty. Maybe it was the historic first Starbucks or something?’d

Drought

Lake Arrowhead, CA

Yes, we’re still staying with Berck’s dad. A huge storm is supposed to roll in tonight, delaying us further. Berck wants to finish writing a letter against the cop in Lorena, who pulled us over to search us, and has been studying court cases and the Texas penal code to gather ammunition. Apparently, this is a rather common thing, and the ACLU is interested in hearing testimony about them. That and he’s reading the prequel to The DaVinci Code, mainly because it takes place in Rome and describes all the sites Berck visited while he was there. He’s spent the last two days in bed all day reading.

I walked down to the lake today. The town of Lake Arrowhead wraps around the lake, houses stacked up the sides of the mountains, and a labyrinth of roads connecting them all. It’s a private lake, meaning that only people who own water access are allowed to launch boats. It’s tricky to get down to the lake at all, but I found a couple of trails that wound between properties so that people who live further up the hillside can still get down to the water.

At least, that’s the way it used to be. The lake has dropped something like 20 feet, so there’s nothing but a steep, muddy slope if you want to reach the water’s edge. All the surrounding houses have docks that end in mid-air, far above the water. They’ve solved that by attaching temporary floating docks down at lake level. Some company probably made a killing installing those.

Right now the business is tree cutting. The huge pine trees are suffering from the same drought that emptied the lake. The trees are infested with a pine beetle that burrows into the tree. Usually, the tree can protect itself by secreting a protective barrier of sap. But if the tree can’t get enough water, it can’t produce enough sap. The beetles have been killing trees by thousands. Even trees by the water’s edge are dying. So the brown trees have to be cut down before they fall on someone or exacerbate a forest fire.


That’s exactly what happened this summer. The mountains around Lake Arrowhead are still black.

So the tree cutting business has been booming. I watched a cutter in someone’s yard cinched up to the trunk of a huge pine, his heel spikes dug into its sides. From the top, he cut the trunk into two and a half foot pieces with a chain saw, hung the chain saw from his belt, and then pushed the disassociated log from its home. It crashed to the yard below. Then the man worked his way down the trunk until he was another two and a half feet from the top of this shrinking stump and began cutting again.

I passed another house where a tree had been felled in bigger sections, but no one had bothered to remove them. They just lay there, semi stacked, the remnants of a split-rail fence beneath them.

No one knows how long the drought will last or how many trees will die. The folks who live up here are worried about the town’s water supply, as we found out at supper last night. We ate at the Royal Oak with Roy and Edith, an older couple with whom Carol Ann is required to have supper every Tuesday night. Roy is a retired car dealer…he used to sell Roll Royces. He’s also a Republican, which Carol Ann does her best not to hold against him. He’s retired now but very actively involved in local politics. Edith thought we were both precious and made us to promise to stop by for drinks if we passed back through.

Berck is demanding the computer now, so that’s all.