Is It All About the Money?

Well, I'm still trying to figure out how what was once a great event could go so utterly wrong. I'm talking about the Astoria Regatta.

The first year I was in Astoria, 2005, the regatta was held on a single block of Duane Street, right by the Moose Lodge. Everything was all in one place, and the Grand Land Parade marched right through, right in front of my vendor tent, to my granddaughter's utter delight.

The atmosphere was cozy, warm and fun. Everybody and their brother turned out to schmooze and enjoy the festivities, and all it all, it was a delightful event.

There were even gillnet boat races - apparently for the last time, as I haven't even heard them mentioned, since.

The next year, us vendors were fenced in on the old Safeway tarmac, and without telling us, an entrance fee was charged to the non-event. Who's going to pay to come and shop with vendors they know they can visit for free at Sunday Market?

I think I was stupid enough to vend there once more after that.

This year, I noted there were only a very few vendors. I don't know if it's because none of us artisans and artists were asked, or none wanted to participate.

I read on some store window that the admission to Regatta Square would be $2 or a can of food for the food bank. Nope. When my son went with my granddaughter, they charged him $5 to get in - just so she could jump and slide on the inflatable bouncy things for 15 minutes. Sheesh.

OK, I understand they need to pay for the fireworks, bands, whatever. But you know what? Charging $5 to enter Regatta Square to drink over-priced beer or let your kid bounce a bit is a total deal-breaker, in my book.

And I guess I'm not the only one who feels that way. I drove by at about 8:30 p.m., and the band was playing to a few folks who were sitting there, probably wondering why the hell they paid $5 for the privilege.

Don't even get me started on the fireworks. They used to be set off from the Maritime Museum area, where everyone on the North Slope could see them. Then they moved the fireworks to the East Mooring Basin, where only a few can see and enjoy the fun. I didn't even bother to try and see them this year. It was just too damn much trouble - where to park, blah, blah. I used to be able to walk a few blocks for a good view.

And it's all a shame. The regatta used to be fun.

Click here to see Elleda's photography at the Astoria Photografpix web site

Pier 11 has No Peer

Pier 11, at the bottom of 11th Street in Astoria, Oregon, is a grand place to go.

Yes, Pier 11 has the drink meister, Rich (aka Nacho Biznezz), but you know what else it has? Great, affordable food ... not to mention views to die for while you're noshing.

My son's mother-in-law, Yvonne, came up for her first visit to Astoria in May. We had a wonderful visit, wandering all over the North Coast and Long Beach Peninsula. Her last night in town, we went to Pier 11 and had the prime rib while sitting at one of the riverfront windows. I don't know what was better - the view or the prime rib. And it was a good chunk of beef and yummy- I actually had to take some home, which is rare.

Speaking of rare, I'm one of those barbarians who likes beef beyond rare. When I was visiting in Kansas, and tried to explain to the waitress how I wanted my steak cooked, she said, "You mean slap it on the ass and walk it by the stove?" Yes.

In June, a long-time close friend, Jasmine, came to visit Astoria for the first time. Of course, we went to Pier 11. This time I had the spinach salad. I don't think I can rave enough about it, so I'll simply say: spinach, bacon, cheese, tomatoes, killer dressing.

The artichoke dip is great, too.

And shame on me for almost forgetting to mention it, there's a happy hour menu. My other half was gaga over the cheeseburger, and he's a fussy guy when it comes to cheeseburgers.

I have only one complaint: butt-buster bar chairs. Let's just say I have ample padding, but even so, it ain't enough. Somebody please have mercy and put some nice, comfy chairs at the bar!

Anyone "of a certain age" will know what I mean: a swivel chair with a padded seat, padded back, and a foot rest - all conducive to relaxing and chatting in a good bar with a great view.

Click here to see Elleda's photography at the Astoria Photografpix web site

Where Old Hippies Go to Die

I remember, when I was very young, watching this really impossibly idiotic black & white TV show called "Ramar of the Jungle." About the only intriguing part, in my book, was the myth of the mysterious Elephant Graveyard. Old elephants supposedly had an internal radar, and wandered there to die when they knew their time had come. I really believed there was such a place.

Many moons and many graveyards later, the time had come to bury my parents. They were staunch old Yankees (although my father was a transplanted Confederate from Kentucky) who died in 1990 within six months of each other at the very respectable ages of 85 and 91.

At the time of my mother's death (she went last), I flew back to Connecticut from Los Angeles, where I had been sunstroking my brain for 8 years, to meet with the venerable funeral director, Earl, who was no spring chicken, himself.

We exchanged the usual terse New England pleasantries, did our business, then settled in for a proper chat. I don't remember much of the rest of the exchange, but I will forever remember one thing he said about my future demise. "A real Yankee has no damn business being buried in California. You need to be buried on Yankee soil, where you belong."

There was no way I was going to go back to New England, for several reasons, the least of which was I had no one to go back to. But what Earl said stuck with me through the years.

When I finally got my shit together, as it were, and decided to move to Astoria, Oregon, my friends in L.A. were appalled. One of my best friends, Harry, finally called me on it, and demanded to know why the hell would I even think about leaving L.A. The answer that fell out of my mouth, unbidden and unexpected, was, "I don't want to die here." And that was the bottom line. I just didn't know I had drawn it until that moment.

So here I am, five years later, still in Astoria, and still loving it. Today, I was walking my dog on the Riverwalk, and happened to notice at least five other geriatric hippies. They still have their long hair, bandanas, and other badges and accourtrements of our era. My hair won't grow long any more, but I still have my 5 ear-piercings in each ear and I don't remember how many tattoos.

And the first thing that came to my mind was "so Astoria must be where old hippes must go to die." Well, I can't think of a better place to live, or die, for that matter. With apologies to Earl, it looks like this old Yankee will stay in Astoria for the duration.

Click here to see Elleda's photography at the Astoria Photografpix web site

Pour it on at Pier 11

Although I am not actually a fan of the cocktail per se (I'm a beer drinker), I love the art of the pour.

Remember Tom Cruise in the movie "Cocktail," tossing glasses and bottles around with great elan and scary coordination? Hell, even a stodgy old fart beer drinker like me, parked at the bar, can appreciate the fun of a good performance.

Rich, aka Nacho Bizznez, who holds forth on KMUN, and used to be at The Schooner on 12th Street, is a cocktail artist (read about him here). I do not say this lightly. Not only that, he's a nice guy.

So naturally I was horrified when The Schooner put up the announcement on the door that all they would be serving was breakfast.

I'm sorry, but who gives a crap about breakfast? Where's the fun? Where's the show? Where's the bartender?

He's at Pier 11, at the bottom of 11th Street in Astoria, that's where he is. Hallelujah.

Click here to see Elleda's photography at the Astoria Photografpix web site

Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On

Anyone who has lived through a major earthquake can tell you how traumatic it is, but they probably can't tell you how long the fear stays with you. Probably because it never really leaves.

I went through the magnitude 6.7 Northridge Earthquake Jan. 17, 1994, and lived only 8.5 miles from the epicenter. What a lot of people don't know is that earthquakes are incredibly loud. The noise of what sounded like a gigantic freight train approaching my bedroom at high speed on very bad tracks woke me up seconds before the quake actually hit, and made me sit up straight.

The second the quake slammed into the house, I was thrown flat while the house buckled and rolled and the walls shimmied all around me. It was beyond terrifying.

When the shaking finally stopped, two of my three dogs were on top of me, and my son was screaming in his room. My son calmed down, and the third dog was found in the kitchen happily snacking on the pot roast and other goodies that had been literally thrown out of the refrigerator onto the floor.

Like an idjit, I got into the car as soon as it was daylight and started driving around. The only word I can think of to describe the landscape is "eerie." Everything was unearthly quiet, especially for such a huge city. Stray dogs and cats were running about madly, fences were down, none of the traffic lights worked and naturally, there was a lot of rubble everywhere.

What was most disconcerting, though, were the aftershocks, which ranged in magnitudes 6 and below for days and days. Even so, things returned to "normal" rather quickly, but then, L.A. is used to earthquakes, and well prepared for them, and repairs started almost immediately.

Everyone was spooked, of course, and for years, every time I got stuck under a freeway overpass on a red light I would break into a sweat, terrified an earthquake might start and I'd be buried in tons of concrete. Post traumatic stress disorder, I guess.

Anyway, when I moved to Astoria, I thought, "At last, I'm out of an earthquake zone." Hah! I had never even heard of the Cascadia Subduction Zone, and was in for a very rude awakening. The Cascadia is capable of a rupture that can produce a magnitude 9 earthquake and a 100-feet high tidal wave, which makes the Northridge Quake's shaking seem like the effect of a big truck driving by in comparison.

The last time the Cascadia did its dance was Jan. 26, 1700, which we know from records kept by the Japanese of the resulting earthquake and tidal wave there, and from Pacific Northwest Indian legends. But Japan is a long way from the fault zone ... Astoria is less than 100 miles from it.

I kept wondering why I couldn't find anything about what happened to Astoria during that 1700 quake. What happened then could tell us more about what might happen here the next time the Cascadia Subduction Zone blows. There was nothing written, which isn't surprising, but the land itself should speak of its history.

Finally, in frustration, I wrote to Robert Witter, Regional Coast Geologist in the Oregon Department of Geology & Mineral Industries in Newport and asked. His prompt and thorough reply was:

"We don't know exactly what happened in Astoria as a result of the 1700 earthquake and tsunami because there is no written record of the event here in North America. From geologic evidence, native American legends, and geophysical modeling we can make some educated guesses. Damage to the area probably resulted from the following:

(1) Strong shaking during the earthquake;
(2) Liquefaction of soil causing extensive settlement and lateral spreading along river banks;
(3) Landslides triggered by earthquake shaking;
(4) Land subsidence (~1 m drop in elevation) caused by earthquake deformation;
(5) Tsunami.

"A tsunami probably reached Astoria based on computer models that simulate tsunami inundation in the Columbia River. Outcrops along the Lewis and Clark River, west of Astoria, expose thin sand layers that may have been deposited by tsunami currents in 1700.

"The easiest maps to get a hold of that show how far a tsunami might reach near Astoria were produced in 1995 to implement building code statutes that restrict development of new buildings in the tsunami inundation zone. The map for Astoria can be found on this page: http://tinyurl.com/astoria-tsu"

He also sent a link to earthquake hazard maps: http://tinyurl.com/astoria-quake (scroll down to IMS-10). Just above IMS-10, you can buy a tsunami hazard map for Astoria (IMS-11).

I found an interesting publication about how to survive a tsunami here: http://pubs.usgs.gov/circ/c1187/

Yikes. Very scary stuff. Buildings in L.A. are built with the earthquake factor taken into consideration. Not true in Astoria, from the looks of it. So I jumped from the frying pan into the fire earthquake-wise, but oh my, what a beautiful fire it is.

Click here to see Elleda's photography at the Astoria Photografpix web site