And we’re off…first night was a quiet, mostly long term campers, easy pull through site.  Got a picture of our Italian neighbor’s rig.  I’m guessing no one messes with him!

When we were hooked up to leave, John took the wheel and got between a rock and a hard place. Unwilling to wait, patient person that he thinks he is, below is what resulted when he tried to make a left turn around a truck that was obviously stuck out far beyond maneuverability. Yea, go ahead guys, tell me again how horrible we ladies drive!

Unhitched Ribbit, backed up, turned the corner, re-hitched, went on our way.

A picture pause by Greenwood Tree Farms after passing hundreds of acres of trees in step ladder stages of growth.

A KatieBug potty stop and sighting of John Day Dam sparked our interest for a rest stop at Bonneville Lock Dam and Bradford Island Fishway, the fish hatchery and fish ladder, an hour up the road.

John Day Fossil Beds National Monument and close up of the fascinating Painted Hills

Before we reached Bonneville Lock Dam, just past the Painted Hills, a snowy white view of Mount Hood appeared in the distance.

Reaching the Bonneville Lock Dam turnoff and after turning down the narrow dam road, breathing a sigh of relief as a giant parking lot emerged.  We parked, had lunch inside LilyPad and began our self-guided walking tour. It was an enjoyable stroll through the museum, the fish ladder and watching the powerful surge of the dam waters from the observation deck.

John played guard by the 1930’s guard house with the hydroelectric dam, built in 1937 by the Army Corps of Engineers, in the background.  Osprey circled above our heads.

The dam, fish ladder and hatchery were constructed with the blessing of Franklin D. Roosevelt, his administration and the New Deal after the war to put Americans back to work. It was one of the first of 10 such dams to harness power provided by the Columbia River.

Fish ladder view from the outside and inside.

Our overnight stop for tonight is the Elks Lodge in Salem, OR. It is directly across from the National Guard Airport. Says the-man-who-can-sleep-through-an-atom-bomb, “it won’t be that noisy”.  Upon arrival, our camp host shouted above the whap/whap/whap of the helicopter blades, “the boys only play with their helicopters until about 10:00 pm”.  The geese seem oblivious to the noise.

Sunset over the National Guard building and the helicopters are still air born.

It’s now after 11 pm and the TV sound is overwhelmed by the sounds of orbiting engines.  You can faintly hear snoring coming from our bedroom in the mix.  It’s going to be a long night.

Morning arrived, seemingly after I had just closed my eyes but the highway calls so off we go.  Passing dozens of “Old McDonald Had a Farm” fields, some with garden variety farm animals, some with designer wildlife, the terrain became steep and mountainous and LilyPad’s engine shifted repeatedly for the ascension.

Arrived at Hi Way Haven in Sutherland OR, the RV Park with the drive-in movies on weekends. The couple that work camps here used to be at the 242 RV Park in Conroe, the one where we had LilyPad’s open house.

This is one of my favorite places to pay for a stay in the area, our RV site at Lone Pine being free but not easy to access for short term. Reasonable prices during the week, just a few curves up the road from numerous wineries, minutes to the city of Roseburg for shopping and, the best part, friendly Texans for hosts.

Our one day training at Mill Pond Recreation Area, where we spent an excellent two months last year as camp hosts (exception being the dreaded bathroom cleaning) was an enlightening experience.

We all know laws change from state to state and some seem more peculiar than others. Massachusetts law forbids carrying ice cream in your pocket. OK…I can understand that. Some are not that significant…Washington not allowing collection of fire wood in the park, the opposite of Oregon, which allows any dead wood to be fair game. Washington allows gathering wild flowers, Oregon’s rule is hands off.  Washington has public nudity laws forbidding nude swimming in public places but what I wasn’t ready to deal with was hearing about Oregon allowing people to swim nude in public places. Nothing even minutely similar occurred last year.  As luck would have it, this year the swimming hole is not our responsibility. My plan, if made aware of such an occurrence in process, is to yell… “John, you are needed at Rock Creek swimming hole!”.

Couldn’t resist a side trip to two of the 23 local wineries.  Henry Estate Winery, our first stop, had free tasting.  Brought home a fruity dry white and a nice easy drinking Bordeaux.  The building and surrounding area reminded us of Bernhardt Wineries in Plantersville, TX.  Henry Estate has monthly events, one being a crayfish boil with Cajun music in June.  Looks like we will be celebrating Father’s Day gleefully pinching tails and sucking heads.

Down a long curvy dirt road, high upon a hill, sits Prayer Rock Vineyard.  Their wine tasting wasn’t free but included a few bites paired with the wines.  We brought home a nice Spanish Tempranillo.

Devoted attention from Shiraz, their gentle oversize wooly vineyard welcome wagon, immediately offered countless wet doggy breath kisses and gave way to bittersweet memories of our sweet Millie.

Back tracking to visit my dad in Brookings Oregon for a week before we begin our season at Lone Pine Group Campground. On the way, Bandon, our favorite side trip, is having a Farmers Market with musicians “singing an a picken” at the Market entrance.

The block-long parking lot across the street has plenty of room for our 65’ and it is our usual spot to park. We wander around, have lunch at our favorite eatery, return to LilyPad and John drives slowly across the gravel lot to the road. Upon reaching the road, out of the corner of our eyes, we see a man speeding quickly to our windshield and stopping, waving his arms. John opens up the side window and is told that he is dragging the car. Getting out, we see behind LilyPad two deep rivulets completely void of gravel, trailing from across the parking lot up to our stop. Someone, who shall remain nameless, forgot to take Ribbit out of park when he did his routine “walk around” before we drove away.