The Clatsop Historical Society did its second annual Talking Tombstones event today at the Ocean View Cemetery, and it's a real hoot. Despite massive confusion on the when/where aspect, by the time we got there near 4 PM (it started at 3), there was a long line of people waiting to enter.
There were ten "ghosts" stationed around the cemetery by their respective tombstones. Each "ghost," dressed in 1800's garb, would tell their life story as the group stood around the tombstone. When one story was done, the group would move on to the next "ghost." The stories were informative, funny, and often wistful. Some characters used notes, but the best were improvised lively narratives culled from known historical facts about the person.
I had to feel sorry for the actors playing the characters. I don't know how long they had to stay out there and constantly tell their stories, but the weather was positively gothic. Grey, gloomy, and chilly, with smatterings of misty rain. I felt as though I had been plopped into a British horror movie from the '60's.
The Grim Reaper roamed around in his flowing black robes, having a grand old time. As the "ghosts" told their stories, the delighted/scared shrieks of small children could be heard in the background as the Reaper would scare their pants off and send them running to grab their parents' legs.
Several people brought their dogs. I swear, in Astoria, people bring their dogs to the damndest events. Not a problem, I suppose, except for the grounds-keepers, who will be busy cleaning off the crapped-on markers I saw probably until next Halloween. But it did add to the whole bizarreness of the event to have dogs and children romping around through the tombstones.
Congratulations to the Clatsop County Historical Society (http://www.clatsophistoricalsociety.org/). All in all, a very interesting, creative affair, and I'm really looking forward to going again next year!
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, Astoria history, Halloween, Talking Tombstones, tombstones, Clatsop County Historical Society
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Friday, October 28, 2005
If You Don't Like the Weather, Wait 10 Minutes
Since it is Margot's last day here, we decided to head on out to Cannon Beach and Ecola Park. It was sunny in Astoria when we left the house. The second we hit the Warrenton Bridge just outside town (on the end of the peninsula), the sky turned black, a squall blew in, and it poured teapots and tablespoons.
Two miles south on the 101, the sun came out, and the rain switched to a misty drizzle. Not bad at all, so I took the Sunset Beach turnoff for one last drive on the beach for Margot. The first clue this was a bad idea was there was nobody there, and not a car in sight. But ever the adventurers, we plunged forward onto the sand, heading for Gearhart.
By the time we had gone about a mile, it was clear we couldn't turn around, which would have been the best option. The wind picked up to about 60 MPH gusts, the sand was blowing by, the surf kicked up giant waves, and the sky started going black again. Then it started to rain.
The car was rocking and sliding along, the tide was coming in. Margot said, "We DO have the cell phone, don't we?" Great minds think alike, as I was really hoping the cell phone was working in case I had to get us towed out of there. And already pondering how embarassing that phone call would be to make. I mean, what kind of idiot would be driving on the beach in a 2-wheel drive car in that kind of weather? Just this idiot, apparently.
As I white-knuckled my way down the beach, we came across people on horseback. So we weren't the only lunatics out there, after all.
Fortunately, I found a turn-off before Gearhart, pulled off the beach, wiped the sweat from my brow, and lit a cigarette. Margot was delighted with our sandy jaunt, and said she was "just as happy as if we had good sense." We headed back to the 101. Where it was sunny. Go figure.
Passed through Seaside uneventfully, with a few small rain storms hitting us on the way to Ecola Park. I'd never been into Ecola, but I had been warned about the park road, which is very narrow and winding, and up and down, and seems to go on forever through the forest primeval. Margot's one comment on that was, "Really, I'm so glad YOU'RE driving."
But the view at the end of the road makes that drive worth every turn. It is a staggering vista of ocean crashing on rocks. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot, big surprise, the wind kicked up like crazy, making the sea spray turn to mist around Haystack Rock and the other out-croppings. Very impressive, like a Japanese painting.
After lots of ooh-ing and aahh-ing, we moved on to Indian Beach. Another vista of heavenly ocean/crashing surf/craggy rocks. And lo and behold, more lunatics! Out surfing. In gale force winds, 50 degree air temp, and I don't even want to think what the water temp was.
From there, off to Cannon Beach. Where it monsooned like a waterfall. Back to the 101, and yup, it was sunny again. Hit two more rain storms on the way home, started crossing the Warrenton Bridge, and there was the beautiful and welcoming south hillside of Astoria, glistening in the sun.
We rested and regrouped at the Ship Inn, and ate huge orders of fish and clams. No visit to Astoria would be complete without a viewing of the Goonies, so off we went to the movie rental store. Margot got a good giggle out of seeing all the sights she'd seen around town in the movie, and a good time was had by all.
As for the other side of the river in WA, the land deal is off. No septic test had been done by the previous interested buyers, and now it would entail a winter perk test to check and see if the land could handle sewer drainage. For $250, holes would be dug, and the water levels would be checked into the spring. Nope, no thanks. So I'm still looking for that piece of land over there.
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, rain, weather, driving in bad weather
Two miles south on the 101, the sun came out, and the rain switched to a misty drizzle. Not bad at all, so I took the Sunset Beach turnoff for one last drive on the beach for Margot. The first clue this was a bad idea was there was nobody there, and not a car in sight. But ever the adventurers, we plunged forward onto the sand, heading for Gearhart.
By the time we had gone about a mile, it was clear we couldn't turn around, which would have been the best option. The wind picked up to about 60 MPH gusts, the sand was blowing by, the surf kicked up giant waves, and the sky started going black again. Then it started to rain.
The car was rocking and sliding along, the tide was coming in. Margot said, "We DO have the cell phone, don't we?" Great minds think alike, as I was really hoping the cell phone was working in case I had to get us towed out of there. And already pondering how embarassing that phone call would be to make. I mean, what kind of idiot would be driving on the beach in a 2-wheel drive car in that kind of weather? Just this idiot, apparently.
As I white-knuckled my way down the beach, we came across people on horseback. So we weren't the only lunatics out there, after all.
Fortunately, I found a turn-off before Gearhart, pulled off the beach, wiped the sweat from my brow, and lit a cigarette. Margot was delighted with our sandy jaunt, and said she was "just as happy as if we had good sense." We headed back to the 101. Where it was sunny. Go figure.
Passed through Seaside uneventfully, with a few small rain storms hitting us on the way to Ecola Park. I'd never been into Ecola, but I had been warned about the park road, which is very narrow and winding, and up and down, and seems to go on forever through the forest primeval. Margot's one comment on that was, "Really, I'm so glad YOU'RE driving."
But the view at the end of the road makes that drive worth every turn. It is a staggering vista of ocean crashing on rocks. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot, big surprise, the wind kicked up like crazy, making the sea spray turn to mist around Haystack Rock and the other out-croppings. Very impressive, like a Japanese painting.
After lots of ooh-ing and aahh-ing, we moved on to Indian Beach. Another vista of heavenly ocean/crashing surf/craggy rocks. And lo and behold, more lunatics! Out surfing. In gale force winds, 50 degree air temp, and I don't even want to think what the water temp was.
From there, off to Cannon Beach. Where it monsooned like a waterfall. Back to the 101, and yup, it was sunny again. Hit two more rain storms on the way home, started crossing the Warrenton Bridge, and there was the beautiful and welcoming south hillside of Astoria, glistening in the sun.
We rested and regrouped at the Ship Inn, and ate huge orders of fish and clams. No visit to Astoria would be complete without a viewing of the Goonies, so off we went to the movie rental store. Margot got a good giggle out of seeing all the sights she'd seen around town in the movie, and a good time was had by all.
As for the other side of the river in WA, the land deal is off. No septic test had been done by the previous interested buyers, and now it would entail a winter perk test to check and see if the land could handle sewer drainage. For $250, holes would be dug, and the water levels would be checked into the spring. Nope, no thanks. So I'm still looking for that piece of land over there.
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, rain, weather, driving in bad weather
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Long Beach Peninsula Redux
Yesterday we drove back to the lot I want to buy. This time I was prepared, and had on hiking boots, so I trudged into the great unknown. I got about halfway in, after almost breaking my neck several times, then decided to head back to the front of the lot at the road. Finally got almost to the edge, only to discover that I couldn't jump the trench to get out of there, so it was back through the brush. The blackberry bushes were in clumps, but had trailers all over the ground that kept tripping me and/or untying my shoes. It would take a serious-sized tractor to clear a path through that mess.
And yes, there is forest! Even a somewhat dilapidated fence separating the properties, which leaves about 40' of the lot in deep woods. Went into the woods, too, which were considerably less treacherous than the so-called "cleared" part. Forest primeval, and all that good stuff. Love it.
Then we drove all the way up Sandridge Rd. as far as it would go, then up the little access road ("lions and tigers and bears, oh my!" ran through my head) to Leadbetter Point. Where there is, amazingly, no view of anything but trees. So much for visions of sweeping ocean vistas. Great bathroom, though, which in my opinion, is a very important thing.
Then we hit the northern-most houses on the peninsula, which are on the ocean side, and drove around on the sand a bit. I just can't seem to get enough of that driving-on-sand thing. The ocean was doing its usual roaring, and the gulls and snowy plovers were scampering about following the waves. The beach was full of stranded jellyfish, and some strange rubbery plastic-looking things I've never seen before. Will take one to a local fisherman to see if he can identify them.
Then we drove south, about a block in from the beach. Last time we were in the area, about a year ago, there were a few houses. Now the place is swarming with houses. Lots that were inexpensive last year are outrageous now, and worse yet, you're supposed to pay association dues even on an empty lot. And I hate to think what will happen when the tax assessor finally catches up with those folks. Forget it!
The elusive Daisy (the seller's realtor) sent me an email saying she'd send more info about the lot yesterday, then dropped out of sight again without a peep. Got a call from my realtor this morning, and he's still checking out the info. Even HE had trouble finding it. Everything hangs on whether or not a septic system can be put in. If one can't, it's not even worth buying as an investment, he says.
He said something else interesting ... that I shouldn't count on a city sewer system for at least 20 years, if then. There's no infrastructure out there on the peninsula, and no industry aside from oystering, so therefore not much of a tax base for expensive things like sewers. In other words, it's about 50 years behind the times. Which I'm thinking is a good thing in a lot of ways, after 22 years of struggling in choked up, filthy L.A. Oh well, time will tell.
It's raining saucepans and ladles. It's raining so hard it can't even go sideways like it usually does. This does not bode well for vending at the cruise ship landing tomorrow.
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, Long Beach Peninsula, buy land, Washington
And yes, there is forest! Even a somewhat dilapidated fence separating the properties, which leaves about 40' of the lot in deep woods. Went into the woods, too, which were considerably less treacherous than the so-called "cleared" part. Forest primeval, and all that good stuff. Love it.
Then we drove all the way up Sandridge Rd. as far as it would go, then up the little access road ("lions and tigers and bears, oh my!" ran through my head) to Leadbetter Point. Where there is, amazingly, no view of anything but trees. So much for visions of sweeping ocean vistas. Great bathroom, though, which in my opinion, is a very important thing.
Then we hit the northern-most houses on the peninsula, which are on the ocean side, and drove around on the sand a bit. I just can't seem to get enough of that driving-on-sand thing. The ocean was doing its usual roaring, and the gulls and snowy plovers were scampering about following the waves. The beach was full of stranded jellyfish, and some strange rubbery plastic-looking things I've never seen before. Will take one to a local fisherman to see if he can identify them.
Then we drove south, about a block in from the beach. Last time we were in the area, about a year ago, there were a few houses. Now the place is swarming with houses. Lots that were inexpensive last year are outrageous now, and worse yet, you're supposed to pay association dues even on an empty lot. And I hate to think what will happen when the tax assessor finally catches up with those folks. Forget it!
The elusive Daisy (the seller's realtor) sent me an email saying she'd send more info about the lot yesterday, then dropped out of sight again without a peep. Got a call from my realtor this morning, and he's still checking out the info. Even HE had trouble finding it. Everything hangs on whether or not a septic system can be put in. If one can't, it's not even worth buying as an investment, he says.
He said something else interesting ... that I shouldn't count on a city sewer system for at least 20 years, if then. There's no infrastructure out there on the peninsula, and no industry aside from oystering, so therefore not much of a tax base for expensive things like sewers. In other words, it's about 50 years behind the times. Which I'm thinking is a good thing in a lot of ways, after 22 years of struggling in choked up, filthy L.A. Oh well, time will tell.
It's raining saucepans and ladles. It's raining so hard it can't even go sideways like it usually does. This does not bode well for vending at the cruise ship landing tomorrow.
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, Long Beach Peninsula, buy land, Washington
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Land Baroness
Yesterday I got this grand land urge, i.e. the urge to own a chunk of land of my very own, to squat on, ignore, have picnics on, whatever. Okay, I already have a house, but the back yard is a swamp sloped deeply enough for skiing if there were any snow around here. The front yard doesn't exist. Plus, I thought it would just be a nice little investment to have a piece land somewhere.
The "somewhere" turned out to be on the Long Beach Peninsula. Which is probably folly, since one major tidal wave would likely wipe the place out. But, silly me, that just adds to the adventure/risk factor. Of course, I don't have a lot of money to play around with, here. Actually, I shouldn't do it at all, but that never stopped me before. My Grandpa was a bit of a speculator, and I must have more of his genes than I realized.
So I found this funky piece of land out there on the WA MLS, called the seller's realtor at around 1:30, and said I'd be out there at 3:30 or so to look at the lot. She was busy with clients till then, so she thought that was fine. No names here, so I'll just call her Daisy (no, it's not even remotely close to her real name).
Pal Margot (still visiting from KS) and I trundled over the bridge and tried to find the lot. We drove and drove, up and down, and back and forth, and couldn't find the damn thing. Called the realty office, and explained the problem, and the receptionist looked it up and said, "Oh, no wonder, the street it's on is listed wrong." Uh, okay. So she gave me the RIGHT street, and we finally found it.
Daisy told me there were septic issues, as it would be very expensive to put one in because the lot is too low. Hell, I didn't care, I'm not going to build on it anyway. And if I ever could afford it, by then the city sewer might already be there. But when I got to the lot, it was actually higher than the ones around it. Huh?
We drove down the road it was on just to see where it went, which is essentially a few miles into nowhere. That probably explains why there was a rocking car with a bobbing bare butt in the back window at the end of the road. As we whisked out of there to avoid disturbing the tryst, we saw a truck being driven very fast to the lovers' location. Disgruntled husband? We were kind of disappointed we wouldn't be around to see the impending drama.
So Margot and I went for lunch & a toddy at a local joint to wait out the realtor, who was STILL busy with clients, even though it was now 4 PM. At 4:30 I called Daisy from the joint, and said hey, if you want to show the land to us yourself as you requested, it's getting kind of late! Nope, still busy, writing an offer, come see her at 5. It was starting to get dark, and had started drizzling. I think she must have been hand writing that offer in Sanskrit it was taking so long.
At 5 PM, Margot and I went to the office to try to roust her out. Still busy with the clients, but two guys were in the office, and they tried to help with more info about the lot. Not easy, since confusion reigned ... the file was lost, the street address was wrong, and the plat map number on the listing was wrong, too! Huh? What's going on here?
We finally found the right plat map, as having been there, I knew exactly where the lot was, and the next issue was size. How big is the damn thing, really? They guessed on it from the guide on the map, and told me if I really want to know, go back out there and pace it. Pace it? Okay, fine. Nothing like self-serve property hunting. Daisy looked up long enough from her clients to say the lot was totally cleared, which I found rather disappointing, since I would love some trees, and I was assured there were no boundary markers to go by.
So Margot and I went back to the lot, and in the drizzle, I paced it out. Very interesting. Not only do there seem to be actual border markers, but the property also appears to go several rows into a forest. I have to wonder ... has Daisy actually ever even BEEN to the lot?
Since Daisy has not been very forthcoming (her poor seller!), and getting information about the lot is like the proverbial pulling-of-teeth, I've hired my own realtor to represent me and find out what the hell is really going on. Gave him all of the correct info, since the only thing right in the listing is apparently the MLS number. The mystery will unfold in due time ...
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, Buying Land, Long Beach Peninsula, Washington
The "somewhere" turned out to be on the Long Beach Peninsula. Which is probably folly, since one major tidal wave would likely wipe the place out. But, silly me, that just adds to the adventure/risk factor. Of course, I don't have a lot of money to play around with, here. Actually, I shouldn't do it at all, but that never stopped me before. My Grandpa was a bit of a speculator, and I must have more of his genes than I realized.
So I found this funky piece of land out there on the WA MLS, called the seller's realtor at around 1:30, and said I'd be out there at 3:30 or so to look at the lot. She was busy with clients till then, so she thought that was fine. No names here, so I'll just call her Daisy (no, it's not even remotely close to her real name).
Pal Margot (still visiting from KS) and I trundled over the bridge and tried to find the lot. We drove and drove, up and down, and back and forth, and couldn't find the damn thing. Called the realty office, and explained the problem, and the receptionist looked it up and said, "Oh, no wonder, the street it's on is listed wrong." Uh, okay. So she gave me the RIGHT street, and we finally found it.
Daisy told me there were septic issues, as it would be very expensive to put one in because the lot is too low. Hell, I didn't care, I'm not going to build on it anyway. And if I ever could afford it, by then the city sewer might already be there. But when I got to the lot, it was actually higher than the ones around it. Huh?
We drove down the road it was on just to see where it went, which is essentially a few miles into nowhere. That probably explains why there was a rocking car with a bobbing bare butt in the back window at the end of the road. As we whisked out of there to avoid disturbing the tryst, we saw a truck being driven very fast to the lovers' location. Disgruntled husband? We were kind of disappointed we wouldn't be around to see the impending drama.
So Margot and I went for lunch & a toddy at a local joint to wait out the realtor, who was STILL busy with clients, even though it was now 4 PM. At 4:30 I called Daisy from the joint, and said hey, if you want to show the land to us yourself as you requested, it's getting kind of late! Nope, still busy, writing an offer, come see her at 5. It was starting to get dark, and had started drizzling. I think she must have been hand writing that offer in Sanskrit it was taking so long.
At 5 PM, Margot and I went to the office to try to roust her out. Still busy with the clients, but two guys were in the office, and they tried to help with more info about the lot. Not easy, since confusion reigned ... the file was lost, the street address was wrong, and the plat map number on the listing was wrong, too! Huh? What's going on here?
We finally found the right plat map, as having been there, I knew exactly where the lot was, and the next issue was size. How big is the damn thing, really? They guessed on it from the guide on the map, and told me if I really want to know, go back out there and pace it. Pace it? Okay, fine. Nothing like self-serve property hunting. Daisy looked up long enough from her clients to say the lot was totally cleared, which I found rather disappointing, since I would love some trees, and I was assured there were no boundary markers to go by.
So Margot and I went back to the lot, and in the drizzle, I paced it out. Very interesting. Not only do there seem to be actual border markers, but the property also appears to go several rows into a forest. I have to wonder ... has Daisy actually ever even BEEN to the lot?
Since Daisy has not been very forthcoming (her poor seller!), and getting information about the lot is like the proverbial pulling-of-teeth, I've hired my own realtor to represent me and find out what the hell is really going on. Gave him all of the correct info, since the only thing right in the listing is apparently the MLS number. The mystery will unfold in due time ...
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, Buying Land, Long Beach Peninsula, Washington
Friday, October 21, 2005
Drivin' Legal
Been here in Astoria for almost a year, but the significant other, who hereafter will be designated as B, had not changed his license from CA to OR. Heavy sigh. He was working in the canneries, and they didn't care where he came from, or who he was ... they just wanted a warm and willing body. But the season is over, it's time to look for other work, and suddenly the driver's license ordeal loomed on the forefront. B studied the driver's manual assiduously, and took the two online tests, and he was READY to head out.
I have been to the Astoria DMV several times for various things, and I was usually the only person there except the clerks. Oh no, not today. As we walked in the door and took our little number ticket, like at the deli's in NY, the ticket said #64. They were currently waiting on #40. Huh? I was feeling like I was back in L.A., which is a very bad thing.
So I left B inside and went outside to chill out, have a smoke, and wait it out. Then I heard it. A leaf fell to the ground. That wonderfully wispy Fall sound. Then I noticed the sound was all around me, and the air was crisp, clear, and clean. Young's Bay was bright and reflecting the sun, and looking glorious. Suddenly the DMV ordeal was irrelevant.
I am Fall-starved. After 22 years in L.A., which has no seasons to speak of except Brown and Green, this Yankee girl is now going ga-ga over experiencing fall again. There are real trees, and they actually have leaves that change color and fall to the ground. The only time palm trees shed is when they drop a large frond, and if you are lucky, you won't get bonked on the head by it.
One fall in L.A. I was just so nutty from lack of seasonal change, I attacked a huge palm tree in my side yard. I got out an old saw, and hacked off a bunch of lower limbs. Just wore myself out, and got scratched to a bloody mess by the damn things. There was a huge pile of debris to show for my efforts, which I then stomped on and crammed into the garbage bin, cussing, swearing, and bleeding the entire time.
Walked into the house and called a pal to see if she wanted to go out for a few beers to celebrate my "fall cleaning" escapade, and she said, "Are you in the house? Have you checked your hair and clothing for recluse spiders and rat droppings?" Uh, no. Threw my shoes and all of my clothes out into the yard. Shower time.
The following years, any time I got a "fall cleaning" attack, I hired this fearless Mexican guy who shimmied up the tree, pruned it up to the top, AND hauled away all the fronds. I really don't ever want to see a friggin' palm tree again.
I digress ... back to the DMV. B got his license, and is now an official Oregonian. We celebrated in true Oregon style, and went for a long drive on the beach near the tide line. There was hardly anyone around, and with two-wheel drive, it felt like we were driving on ice. The gulls were swooping, or tearing away at hapless wriggling crabs, or just stalking around and ignoring us. The wind was crisp and clean, and it was a grand drive. What a great way to live!
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, DMV, Drivers License
I have been to the Astoria DMV several times for various things, and I was usually the only person there except the clerks. Oh no, not today. As we walked in the door and took our little number ticket, like at the deli's in NY, the ticket said #64. They were currently waiting on #40. Huh? I was feeling like I was back in L.A., which is a very bad thing.
So I left B inside and went outside to chill out, have a smoke, and wait it out. Then I heard it. A leaf fell to the ground. That wonderfully wispy Fall sound. Then I noticed the sound was all around me, and the air was crisp, clear, and clean. Young's Bay was bright and reflecting the sun, and looking glorious. Suddenly the DMV ordeal was irrelevant.
I am Fall-starved. After 22 years in L.A., which has no seasons to speak of except Brown and Green, this Yankee girl is now going ga-ga over experiencing fall again. There are real trees, and they actually have leaves that change color and fall to the ground. The only time palm trees shed is when they drop a large frond, and if you are lucky, you won't get bonked on the head by it.
One fall in L.A. I was just so nutty from lack of seasonal change, I attacked a huge palm tree in my side yard. I got out an old saw, and hacked off a bunch of lower limbs. Just wore myself out, and got scratched to a bloody mess by the damn things. There was a huge pile of debris to show for my efforts, which I then stomped on and crammed into the garbage bin, cussing, swearing, and bleeding the entire time.
Walked into the house and called a pal to see if she wanted to go out for a few beers to celebrate my "fall cleaning" escapade, and she said, "Are you in the house? Have you checked your hair and clothing for recluse spiders and rat droppings?" Uh, no. Threw my shoes and all of my clothes out into the yard. Shower time.
The following years, any time I got a "fall cleaning" attack, I hired this fearless Mexican guy who shimmied up the tree, pruned it up to the top, AND hauled away all the fronds. I really don't ever want to see a friggin' palm tree again.
I digress ... back to the DMV. B got his license, and is now an official Oregonian. We celebrated in true Oregon style, and went for a long drive on the beach near the tide line. There was hardly anyone around, and with two-wheel drive, it felt like we were driving on ice. The gulls were swooping, or tearing away at hapless wriggling crabs, or just stalking around and ignoring us. The wind was crisp and clean, and it was a grand drive. What a great way to live!
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, DMV, Drivers License
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Oysterville and Sand Dollars
My friend Magot, from Kansas, is visiting, and I thought we ought to do a few of the must-see touristy things. So I took her for her maiden voyage across the Astoria bridge to the Long Beach Peninsula. She's had knee replacements, so trudging up to Cape D or down to North Head was out of the question. So I decided to take her to Oysterville and Nahcotta.
In Nahcotta I saw the sign for the Port of the Peninsula, turned down the road, and brought the car to a screeching halt. I have not seen big piles of oyster shells like that since I was a child on the shoreline of CT. It was an almost visceral nostalgia jolt.
I pulled all the way in and just stood there, staring at the oyster shells. It was the strangest thing ... almost like a homecoming. An oyster boat was out on Willapa Bay gathering oysters, and that was a huge treat, too. It was a lovely gray day, and the water was very calm. I was so interested in how they did it, with a big basket sort of thing. In CT the oyster boats lowered huge rakes over the side to gather the oysters.
Fortunately, I had my camera with me, and got lots of interesting shots, which I will be working on for the next week or two.
Up in Oysterville, there were three raccoons just plopped on the front steps of the oyster sales place. One of them stuck his tongue out at me, and I had my camera in my hands at the time. It's a fun shot.
Oysterville is very beautiful, but so desolate. I can't decide if the desolation makes it more beautiful, or makes it a little creepy. Whichever it is, it's an interesting spot, visually, and I need to go back there more often.
The whole peninsula is like a throwback to the CT or MA shoreline in the 1950's. I hope it flourishes, but not in the same way, or it would be as ruined as those two shorelines are. Although neither MA or CT has tidal wave evacuation route signs all over the place ... a big drawback for investors on the peninsula, I would imagine. I find the tidal wave threat a little menacing, but interesting at the same time, in a weird way.
Today I took Margot down Lewis & Clark Rd. to Seaside, then back up the 101, where we stopped in Gearhart for her "ocean fix." I only have a 2-wheel drive car, so I had never ventured out on the beach.
I parked at the edge of the beach, got out, picked up a sand dollar for her, and wandered around a little. Margot wasn't sure if she could walk on sand, so I felt a little guilty. I kept thinking that she really needs see the water up close, as she hadn't heard or seen the ocean in years. So finally I said to hell with it, and drove out onto the sand. I drove the car about a mile up and down the beach just above the tide line, and she loved it. So did I!
Every time I think I've settled into a little rut here, some sight or sound just astounds me. There's something new and wonderful every day.
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, Oysterville, beach, Long Beach Peninsula, Washington
In Nahcotta I saw the sign for the Port of the Peninsula, turned down the road, and brought the car to a screeching halt. I have not seen big piles of oyster shells like that since I was a child on the shoreline of CT. It was an almost visceral nostalgia jolt.
I pulled all the way in and just stood there, staring at the oyster shells. It was the strangest thing ... almost like a homecoming. An oyster boat was out on Willapa Bay gathering oysters, and that was a huge treat, too. It was a lovely gray day, and the water was very calm. I was so interested in how they did it, with a big basket sort of thing. In CT the oyster boats lowered huge rakes over the side to gather the oysters.
Fortunately, I had my camera with me, and got lots of interesting shots, which I will be working on for the next week or two.
Up in Oysterville, there were three raccoons just plopped on the front steps of the oyster sales place. One of them stuck his tongue out at me, and I had my camera in my hands at the time. It's a fun shot.
Oysterville is very beautiful, but so desolate. I can't decide if the desolation makes it more beautiful, or makes it a little creepy. Whichever it is, it's an interesting spot, visually, and I need to go back there more often.
The whole peninsula is like a throwback to the CT or MA shoreline in the 1950's. I hope it flourishes, but not in the same way, or it would be as ruined as those two shorelines are. Although neither MA or CT has tidal wave evacuation route signs all over the place ... a big drawback for investors on the peninsula, I would imagine. I find the tidal wave threat a little menacing, but interesting at the same time, in a weird way.
Today I took Margot down Lewis & Clark Rd. to Seaside, then back up the 101, where we stopped in Gearhart for her "ocean fix." I only have a 2-wheel drive car, so I had never ventured out on the beach.
I parked at the edge of the beach, got out, picked up a sand dollar for her, and wandered around a little. Margot wasn't sure if she could walk on sand, so I felt a little guilty. I kept thinking that she really needs see the water up close, as she hadn't heard or seen the ocean in years. So finally I said to hell with it, and drove out onto the sand. I drove the car about a mile up and down the beach just above the tide line, and she loved it. So did I!
Every time I think I've settled into a little rut here, some sight or sound just astounds me. There's something new and wonderful every day.
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, Oysterville, beach, Long Beach Peninsula, Washington
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Windblown
The cruise ship was supposed to arrive at 9 AM. Okay, I cut it a little close, but I figured arriving down at Pier 1 by 8:30 would be fine. We just needed about 5 minutes to unload the car to get it back outside the security gates before the ship arrived. It's all about Homeland Security, etc., that no cars be on the dock when the ship arrives. I'm not terribly sure just who this is supposed to protect ... us from the cruisers, or them from us, but that's just the way it is.
Arriving at 8:30 sounded very good in theory, but as we hit the intersection of Bond St. & Marine Drive at just about 8:35 AM, there was the cruise ship, just about to dock. I am not prone to panic attacks, but I was on the verge of one, anyway. After all, I had paid my hard-earned $35 to vend on the pier, and had a car full of tent, photos, tables, chairs, etc., and I really didn't want to think I had been dumb enough to be late for an early arrival.
All was well, however, as the ship had not yet docked by the time we hit the gate to the pier, and we did unload in about three minutes flat, so at least that crisis was resolved. However, things did not brighten from there.
My significant other had to take the car to pick up someone, so there I was on the pier with all the tent-stuff, and a stiff breeze immediately blew up. I would swear it was waiting for me if I didn't know better. I actually got the tent semi-assembled when a gust blew by and blew the whole top of the tent off. Not a good omen.
Fortunately, my fellow sturdy marketeers came to my rescue. We had to start from scratch, and between the four of us, we got the tent up, top intact. Bungee cords and clamps were brought forth in profusion, and as much stability as can be established in a gusty wind was established.
Then the rains came.
When the tourists finally poured off the ship, they were greeted by some rather unpleasant weather, but cheerful marketeers. It is difficult to be cheerful when you are wet and cold and windblown, but I think Oscars should go to all of the vendors. And special mention should go to the SweaterHead Hat lady, who pulled me through the day with a wonderful hat.
Not a successful sales day, by any means, but it makes me wonder ... if the Port of Astoria wants us to vend down on Pier 1 and welcome the cruise ships, perhaps they should do something to welcome the vendors! We need wind-breaks of some kind. Our tents, while festive looking, are only aluminum and canvas, which is no match for a 45 mph gust of wind. We have cement blocks and buckets to tie down to, but the frames of the tents get torqued in the wind. Especially those of us (like me!) who are at the end of the line on the west side!
At the end of the day, fortunately, a huge bowl of won-ton soup and a few beers at the Golden Star defrosted me. I was even able to move my fingers again after about fifteen minutes.
My cocker spaniel is snoring at my feet as I write, and I think he's setting a good example. I think I'll bundle up under some quilts and do some serious snoring myself.
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, weather, wind Cruise Ship, Sunday Market, vendors, port
Arriving at 8:30 sounded very good in theory, but as we hit the intersection of Bond St. & Marine Drive at just about 8:35 AM, there was the cruise ship, just about to dock. I am not prone to panic attacks, but I was on the verge of one, anyway. After all, I had paid my hard-earned $35 to vend on the pier, and had a car full of tent, photos, tables, chairs, etc., and I really didn't want to think I had been dumb enough to be late for an early arrival.
All was well, however, as the ship had not yet docked by the time we hit the gate to the pier, and we did unload in about three minutes flat, so at least that crisis was resolved. However, things did not brighten from there.
My significant other had to take the car to pick up someone, so there I was on the pier with all the tent-stuff, and a stiff breeze immediately blew up. I would swear it was waiting for me if I didn't know better. I actually got the tent semi-assembled when a gust blew by and blew the whole top of the tent off. Not a good omen.
Fortunately, my fellow sturdy marketeers came to my rescue. We had to start from scratch, and between the four of us, we got the tent up, top intact. Bungee cords and clamps were brought forth in profusion, and as much stability as can be established in a gusty wind was established.
Then the rains came.
When the tourists finally poured off the ship, they were greeted by some rather unpleasant weather, but cheerful marketeers. It is difficult to be cheerful when you are wet and cold and windblown, but I think Oscars should go to all of the vendors. And special mention should go to the SweaterHead Hat lady, who pulled me through the day with a wonderful hat.
Not a successful sales day, by any means, but it makes me wonder ... if the Port of Astoria wants us to vend down on Pier 1 and welcome the cruise ships, perhaps they should do something to welcome the vendors! We need wind-breaks of some kind. Our tents, while festive looking, are only aluminum and canvas, which is no match for a 45 mph gust of wind. We have cement blocks and buckets to tie down to, but the frames of the tents get torqued in the wind. Especially those of us (like me!) who are at the end of the line on the west side!
At the end of the day, fortunately, a huge bowl of won-ton soup and a few beers at the Golden Star defrosted me. I was even able to move my fingers again after about fifteen minutes.
My cocker spaniel is snoring at my feet as I write, and I think he's setting a good example. I think I'll bundle up under some quilts and do some serious snoring myself.
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, weather, wind Cruise Ship, Sunday Market, vendors, port
Friday, October 14, 2005
Cruising
Spent most of today, and will probably spend most of tomorrow, getting prints ready for the cruise ship coming in on Sunday. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined myself sitting on a pier in a 10x10 tent, in the wind and sometimes-rain, vending photos to cruising tourists.
Even so, it is a truly majestic sight to see the ship coming up the Columbia River and docking. It may even make the discomfort of being out there in the cold worth while.
Which makes me wonder why, when it's taken so long to attract these cruise ships to Astoria, anyone would even THINK of allowing LNG terminals on the Warrenton peninsula. Aside from terminals being potential terrorist targets, and destroying wetlands, why would anyone think it's desirable to disrupt river traffic?
I can't help but think that these beautiful cruise ships, whose visits are so hard-won, would have no desire to stop here when the primary view will be of eyesore terminals. Not to mention, they will probably have to disrupt their schedule to get past all the sentries, etc., around the terminals to come in to dock.
The whole idea of cruise ships coming to Astoria, I was told, was to attract new blood. It is hoped that the cruisers will see and experience Astoria, and want to move here, and/or open businesses here. The town is so beautiful, and the people so friendly, I think it's a pretty good plan.
But who's going to want to move here to get a view of some unsightly tanks? I just don't get it. I don't see how you can attract people when you build an eyesore to greet them.
For now, anyway, I will just enjoy the view before it gets ruined.
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, Calpine, LNG
Even so, it is a truly majestic sight to see the ship coming up the Columbia River and docking. It may even make the discomfort of being out there in the cold worth while.
Which makes me wonder why, when it's taken so long to attract these cruise ships to Astoria, anyone would even THINK of allowing LNG terminals on the Warrenton peninsula. Aside from terminals being potential terrorist targets, and destroying wetlands, why would anyone think it's desirable to disrupt river traffic?
I can't help but think that these beautiful cruise ships, whose visits are so hard-won, would have no desire to stop here when the primary view will be of eyesore terminals. Not to mention, they will probably have to disrupt their schedule to get past all the sentries, etc., around the terminals to come in to dock.
The whole idea of cruise ships coming to Astoria, I was told, was to attract new blood. It is hoped that the cruisers will see and experience Astoria, and want to move here, and/or open businesses here. The town is so beautiful, and the people so friendly, I think it's a pretty good plan.
But who's going to want to move here to get a view of some unsightly tanks? I just don't get it. I don't see how you can attract people when you build an eyesore to greet them.
For now, anyway, I will just enjoy the view before it gets ruined.
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, Calpine, LNG
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Ah, Astoria
Ah, Astoria. Been looking for a place like Astoria for a long time, i.e. a coastal village, preferably centered around fishing. Okay, so the fishing industry isn't at full tilt like it used to be, but it's still here, and that's all that matters to me.
After being brought up on the CT coast in a lobstering/oystering village, then living for 22 landlocked years in L.A. (don't ask me why, I'm not sure myself), finding Astoria was like returning to my roots. A pal once called me a "rootless root-seeker," and he was probably right. But no more!
I remember a good friend asking me, while I was in the process of moving to Astoria, how I could leave L.A.? I won't go into the potentially hundreds of reasons, and they didn't occur to me at the time, anyway, but all I could think of off the top of my head was, "I don't want to die in L.A." Then I realized that was so fundamentally true that it might be the pivotal reason after all.
Another biggie, aside from not wanting to croak in L.A., is that I wanted to get back to photography. There's nothing to photograph in L.A. except people, which is totally unacceptable, and I'll explain more about that in a minute. You can't shoot still lifes, or landscapes, or damn near anything ... the sun is so intense it bleaches everything out or hides it in shadows.
For many years after I first arrived in L.A. I worked for a marvelous lady photographer who specialized in shooting very upscale Bel Air cocktail parties. She was a terrific photographer in that genre, probably the best I've ever seen. She had a wonderful knack for making her subjects comfortable, and composing them very artfully.
I worked in the darkroom at first (I was a master B&W darkroom technician), then gradually began helping on the photo shoots. All of which made me realize I should stay the hell in the darkroom.
My last photo job in L.A. (after the lovely photographer I initially worked for retired) was of a wedding, a second marriage for both partners. I was hired by the bride. Such restraint, being only on husband number two, is positively inspiring by L.A. standards.
I took zillions of photos, presented them with the photo album, and the newly wedded wife declared she loved them to pieces. When she got back from the honeymoon a month or two later, she decided the photos were just awful, BUT ... she wanted to keep them all, but also wanted a total refund. I won't repeat here what I said to her, but it did involve several expletives, some of which were rather graphically creative. Fortunately, I had already cashed her check.
After her phone call, I stood up, grabbed all of my cameras and various equipment, and stuck them in a closet. Where they stayed for over ten years. To this day, I will NOT do photography of people. Family, and my animals, being notable exceptions, since none of them are in any position to whine or complain. My cocker spaniel, for instance, has NEVER asked for retouching, nor has he insisted he only be shot from his "good" side. He's so easy, he has never even demanded a make-up consultant.
Which reminds me of a job I did for the marvelous lady photographer when I was mainly doing the darkroom magic routine. The wife of a famous TV star (no, you don't need to know whose wife it was) had a passport that was about to expire. But they were going to be leaving the country shortly, and she needed a new passport photo. Pronto. And this was back when passport photos were primarily black & white.
She hired a make-up artist, a hair stylist, a manicurist, and God only knows who else showed up to pamper and spoil her through the photo shoot. This photo had to be GOOD, since passports were good for ten years.
I developed the films, and printed several different passport-sized photos. Which, back in the day of enlargers, was no easy task. The prints were hand delivered, and the lady in question went into a complete tizzy. I would not be surprised if smelling salts and a team of herbalists were needed to get her through this horrendous crisis.
OMIGOD, she looked OLD (meaning over 30 in L.A. terms). Well hell, she was 60 at the time. I was rousted out of bed to reprint those passport photos to make her look the age she thought she should look, never mind that passport photos are supposed to be accurate. I ended up fuzzying them a little with a nylon stocking between the enlarger and the paper, and that apparently worked quite well. But the whole escapade was an exercise in stupidity.
Okay, I will now stop ranting about L.A. But I'm sure you get the idea of how a photographer, or any creative person for that matter, would just quit whatever creative field they were in rather than deal with fools. The place literally sucked the life out of me.
About 5 years ago, I started fooling around with digital cameras for my own amusement (the old SLR's are still in a closet, even now). And then I came to Astoria. There is just no end to the amazing things to photograph here. I got inspired again, finally, and the result is Astoria Photografpix.
I started taking normal every-day photos at first. But they looked so blah to me, and didn't really show how I was seeing these wonderful scenes here. Besides, anyone with a throw-away camera can do a halfway decent touristy type shot.
So I started enhancing the photos, as a whim at first. Each image took on a life of its own as I would go through stages to alter them to make visual records of how I see Astoria. And that's what my images are ... they show how much I love Astoria, and how I see it in my mind's eye.
I was surprised and delighted by how well the images were received. My first day at the Sunday Market I was in abject terror of what would happen. I had never sold a "digital art" photo before in my life, much less something as personal as my vision of Astoria. I won't even go into the trials and tribulations of setting up a 10'x10' tent for the first time.
I've really rattled on, haven't I? Oh well, enough for now ...
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, photography, Los Angeles
After being brought up on the CT coast in a lobstering/oystering village, then living for 22 landlocked years in L.A. (don't ask me why, I'm not sure myself), finding Astoria was like returning to my roots. A pal once called me a "rootless root-seeker," and he was probably right. But no more!
I remember a good friend asking me, while I was in the process of moving to Astoria, how I could leave L.A.? I won't go into the potentially hundreds of reasons, and they didn't occur to me at the time, anyway, but all I could think of off the top of my head was, "I don't want to die in L.A." Then I realized that was so fundamentally true that it might be the pivotal reason after all.
Another biggie, aside from not wanting to croak in L.A., is that I wanted to get back to photography. There's nothing to photograph in L.A. except people, which is totally unacceptable, and I'll explain more about that in a minute. You can't shoot still lifes, or landscapes, or damn near anything ... the sun is so intense it bleaches everything out or hides it in shadows.
For many years after I first arrived in L.A. I worked for a marvelous lady photographer who specialized in shooting very upscale Bel Air cocktail parties. She was a terrific photographer in that genre, probably the best I've ever seen. She had a wonderful knack for making her subjects comfortable, and composing them very artfully.
I worked in the darkroom at first (I was a master B&W darkroom technician), then gradually began helping on the photo shoots. All of which made me realize I should stay the hell in the darkroom.
My last photo job in L.A. (after the lovely photographer I initially worked for retired) was of a wedding, a second marriage for both partners. I was hired by the bride. Such restraint, being only on husband number two, is positively inspiring by L.A. standards.
I took zillions of photos, presented them with the photo album, and the newly wedded wife declared she loved them to pieces. When she got back from the honeymoon a month or two later, she decided the photos were just awful, BUT ... she wanted to keep them all, but also wanted a total refund. I won't repeat here what I said to her, but it did involve several expletives, some of which were rather graphically creative. Fortunately, I had already cashed her check.
After her phone call, I stood up, grabbed all of my cameras and various equipment, and stuck them in a closet. Where they stayed for over ten years. To this day, I will NOT do photography of people. Family, and my animals, being notable exceptions, since none of them are in any position to whine or complain. My cocker spaniel, for instance, has NEVER asked for retouching, nor has he insisted he only be shot from his "good" side. He's so easy, he has never even demanded a make-up consultant.
Which reminds me of a job I did for the marvelous lady photographer when I was mainly doing the darkroom magic routine. The wife of a famous TV star (no, you don't need to know whose wife it was) had a passport that was about to expire. But they were going to be leaving the country shortly, and she needed a new passport photo. Pronto. And this was back when passport photos were primarily black & white.
She hired a make-up artist, a hair stylist, a manicurist, and God only knows who else showed up to pamper and spoil her through the photo shoot. This photo had to be GOOD, since passports were good for ten years.
I developed the films, and printed several different passport-sized photos. Which, back in the day of enlargers, was no easy task. The prints were hand delivered, and the lady in question went into a complete tizzy. I would not be surprised if smelling salts and a team of herbalists were needed to get her through this horrendous crisis.
OMIGOD, she looked OLD (meaning over 30 in L.A. terms). Well hell, she was 60 at the time. I was rousted out of bed to reprint those passport photos to make her look the age she thought she should look, never mind that passport photos are supposed to be accurate. I ended up fuzzying them a little with a nylon stocking between the enlarger and the paper, and that apparently worked quite well. But the whole escapade was an exercise in stupidity.
Okay, I will now stop ranting about L.A. But I'm sure you get the idea of how a photographer, or any creative person for that matter, would just quit whatever creative field they were in rather than deal with fools. The place literally sucked the life out of me.
About 5 years ago, I started fooling around with digital cameras for my own amusement (the old SLR's are still in a closet, even now). And then I came to Astoria. There is just no end to the amazing things to photograph here. I got inspired again, finally, and the result is Astoria Photografpix.
I started taking normal every-day photos at first. But they looked so blah to me, and didn't really show how I was seeing these wonderful scenes here. Besides, anyone with a throw-away camera can do a halfway decent touristy type shot.
So I started enhancing the photos, as a whim at first. Each image took on a life of its own as I would go through stages to alter them to make visual records of how I see Astoria. And that's what my images are ... they show how much I love Astoria, and how I see it in my mind's eye.
I was surprised and delighted by how well the images were received. My first day at the Sunday Market I was in abject terror of what would happen. I had never sold a "digital art" photo before in my life, much less something as personal as my vision of Astoria. I won't even go into the trials and tribulations of setting up a 10'x10' tent for the first time.
I've really rattled on, haven't I? Oh well, enough for now ...
Astoria Photografpix
Astoria, photography, Los Angeles
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