The Independent Stitch

Please restart your online backup --> stuff that works

This morning I woke up to discover that I had no internet connection. I learned this courtesy of the computer-side software for my online backup, which placed an informative bubble on my desktop asking me to restart my backup because I had files that were unbacked up and therefore at risk. Of course, I hadn't stopped the backup. The lost internet connection had.

This was not entirely unexpected, although the timing was. We're shifting to a higher-speed connection. We've been on 640K DSL since the technology first became available in our area. Last week I thought, "Maybe we can do better than this now." We could; our connection was so ancient that increasing the speed x ten won't even cost more than we were paying.

However, the phone company apparently threw the switch earlier than they said they would. The new service was supposed to go live mid-afternoon today, after the delivery of the required new modem. Last night, one of the uninterruptible power supplies (UPSs) was powering on and off repeatedly, taking the (old P3) e-mail computer with it. . . . I wonder if that was at the time the phone company changed our service, or if it was a totally unrelated glitch. The new  computer, on its separate UPS, seemed fine.

And then I got up this morning and discovered I couldn't connect to the net anywhere. (Our newspaper wasn't delivered, either, but I do think that's a separate issue.) After two and a half hours of troubleshooting that involved the entire house and many wires, I think we are connected again. We lost the phones, too, for a while, even with all the appropriate filters in place. I got cut off after "hello" on the phone company's support system, one of whose technicians was later patched into the call by the tech support person at our ISP . . . there is a reason I have complete loyalty to this ISP.

The house wireless system (to which only my laptop connects) has been dismantled, although I learned from the phone company tech support person that I can put it in place again.

Later.

Responses to comments from yesterday

1. Thanks for the dinner idea, Donna. I accept.

2. Tycho: I'll look further into this Mac stuff you mention. It might be feasible to transition if I didn't have to invest immediately in all new design/layout software and a bunch of new type (the OpenType crosses over, but the PS1 type does not; I'm running about 50/50 of the two varieties).

There's supposed to be a Mac dealer/service place opening in the city were we live, uh, twelve days ago (8/18). It's not open yet. Ah, here's an update: "After many delays, construction is in the final stretch . . . and we will open on Tuesday September 2, 2008." Current closest Mac source is an hour away. Or online. Online is not feeling very convenient right now.

3. Dina: You'll put in a good word for me with my distributor, eh?

4. LynnH: So I'm giving a good imitation of being sane?

Stuff that works

Speaking of sanity, my personal mental-health-sort-of-preserving exercise for this morning is, before getting down to actual work, collecting appreciative images of Stuff That Works.

My bicycle, shown this morning parked at the public library, works just fine. I've even had it since August 2006, having acquired it about the same time I started this blog, and it still works. That link is to the early days of my blog and I didn't know much about blogging, especially about images. I didn't show the bike. So it's time for a photo of my wonderful bike, WHICH WORKS:

Here's my laptop. It works.

The wireless connection at the library also works, although I can't remember my password for Gootodo.com, which would get me to my focused to-do list.

The backpack also works, although it's the newly arrived second replacement version (lifetime warranty). I'm glad to have it (or, rather, its substitute) back.

This works:

Tea. It brews. Although in the mess this morning I forgot to put my re-usable cup in the backpack.

The two people I am meeting here with, Kit and Judy, point out that ALL THREE OF US work, but I'm not going to interrupt our work to figure out how to get a photo. And I am truly just goofing off right now, but I will be working soon.

And, finally, this works:

There's even an MMORPG in this volume of the Stephanie Plum series. I only know what an MMORPG is because I have a daughter. She doesn't play MMORPGs. I don't, either, although I definitely see the appeal of escaping from this reality into a parallel imaginary one.

But you need a working computer with reliable internet connection to make that particular escape.

For a good book, you need no internet connection at all. Knitting, too. Knitting doesn't need computers or internet. Although I can't find my 2.75-mm needles, which are the ones I need to knit the next row. Maybe that was the cable I plugged into the wall that got the electronic system running again. . . . There are a lot of cables behind the filing cabinet and under the bookshelves, which is where I was working. . . . And knitting needles are some of the most versatile tools I've ever encountered. . . .

And now it's time to return to the primary computer in the office, see if I can open the book file, and replace the illustrations I put in yesterday because they did need some minor corrections that I have learned (via web mail, here at the library) have been completed.

Moving from plan B back to plan A. Fingers crossed for luck.

Back at so-called work after the trip

The trip was wonderful. I'm back at work, with a deadline, wondering how, or whether, it is possible to be in an independent business that is computer-dependent. Linocuts and letterpress look darn appealing. My daughter, who has observed all this, suggests that hand-lettering and hand-drawing a thousand copies of a book looks darn appealing.

Some of what has been happening

I won't include every detail because I can't stand to look at them all at once (and, unlike Western rangeland, this is boring territory to drive across) but will give the flavor of what I'm up against, with a book that needs to go to press in a few weeks.

I have been dealing with these problems since at least October 2007. The problems do not seem to be hardware-related; they have occurred on three different computers. None of the software I am using is truly new (i.e., it all operated problem-free until last fall), although since there are constant updates with everything something may have been updated in one of the programs that now conflicts with one or more of the others.

I have worked with three independent computer consultants, and have long-standing open support tickets with several software sources, including Microsoft (free, because it involves failure of updates), Adobe (fee-paid), font management folks, antivirus folks, I forget what else. The information is in my computer notebook if I need to find it.

Date indicators are per incident; there was more for 8/9 on the previous page. Notes for 8/19 are all for one series of events, reflecting more than three hours of computer-specific tasks (including five sequential troubleshooting steps, sections of which are documented on the printout clipped to the lefthand page).

PC, Mac, Linux

The operating system is Windows XP Pro, which I have been running for a number of years. I need to have at least one functioning PC because of the business side of the business.

I know that a Mac might solve some of the problems I am having, at least with the design side of the work. Macs are not completely trouble-free either, but I'm told that the types of problems I am having would not be so severe (i.e., the OS is generally more stable). A whole second system requires not just several thousand dollars' worth of hardware but also several thousand dollars' worth of design software. . . .

My laptop runs Fedora (Linux) for a reason. It's not perfect, either, but I have never seen a blue-screen shutdown on it. The layout of the image-laden books I publish would be impossible with the Linux  programs that are so reliable for text-heavy publishing. We have also gone beyond the world of Xacto knives and waxed strips of type, which could otherwise be my link to the world of Linux production. "Camera-ready" is a technology of the past, although I still possess the Xactos and a handheld waxer. Google is not even readily offering me a link that explains how we used to make books that way.

The nitty gritty

Unless you would like to appreciate the fact that your computer system is working better than mine, which it almost certainly is, I actually suggest you skip the bulleted section of this post and go look at this comic instead, sent to me yesterday by a friend, who also sent me lots of positive, cheering quotations and thoughts after I uncharacteristically fell apart yesterday morning. (I'd link to creator Bill Amend's page, but I can't locate this particular item there.) Then skip to the end. There are dog photos.
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Samples of my working process (not the full list) in the past nine days alone (8/19 to 8/27, since we got back from our trip):

• While entering order in publishing-specific accounting software, complete computer crash: blue screen (not the regular blue screen of death but the one with the BIG TYPE that means you've gone down to the lowest levels of the system), then black screen and computer reboots itself, followed by message The system has recovered from a serious error. . . .
• Call to a new (third) independent computer consultant, highly recommended by a friend. After half an hour on phone, including description not only of the most recent problem but an overview of the previous sequences, says, "There's no point in my charging you for a site visit because the problems you describe are not connected enough to be easy to troubleshoot. Try changing to a different antivirus software, and operating without your font management program, one at a time, and see what happens. I'll let you know if I come up with any other ideas."
• Troubleshoot OS suggestions for blue screen error caused by device or driver. (Nothing new here that I haven't already done, and now do again.)
• During search of hard drive for a file, error occurs. Unable to close search window, which went blank but couldn't be removed. Two other program windows could not be closed, even with Task Manager. Hard reboot (i.e., have to close by shutting off power).
• Microsoft SQL Server 2005 SP2 cumulative hotfix 3068 fails to install for the umpteenth time. Computer consultant said I probably don't need it, but the system keeps trying to get it in place and never succeeds. Message: Locked files found. End these processes to avoid reboot. Unable to close processes; not shown in Task Manager. Figure who cares if I have to reboot; I do it all the time anyway. Failed to install. Failed to install. Log: SQL Server not responsive prior to running Repl PostScript procedure.
• Adobe Acrobat 8.1.2 update followed by forced restart.
• Uninstall antivirus software I've been using for three years (since before problems started). Download, unpack and install another antivirus program. Full scan of hard drive takes 18 hours (previous program took less than 2).
• InDesign has encountered a problem and needs to close. . . . followed by system not recognizing the active internet connection when it was time to report the error. The latter is a new glitch.
• Away from the computer for an hour or so and came back to work again. Tried to wake up InDesign, with LONG period of not responding. Closed all other open programs, which took several minutes because they were not responding. Closed InDesign as well. Re-opened it, which took quite a few minutes, not responding. Reboot to clear memory, in case that helps. Shouldn't take half an hour to get back to work.
• Illustrator has encountered a problem and needs to close. . . . followed by  system not recognizing the active internet connection when it was time to report the error.
• Basic items supposed to be on the start menu are not there. Re-connect them.
• InDesign has encountered a problem and needs to close. . . .
• Remove font management software. Reboot. Install only mission-critical fonts directly in Control Panel. InDesign says one critical font is missing. Go to Control Panel to install . . . it's easy to miss one font, even when you're working with just 30 or so. System says it's already installed. Close everything and reboot, in case that helps. Same critical font still not recognized. I may have to redesign the book with another font in its place. I have already substituted ALL the primary fonts in this book, i.e., redesigned the whole darn thing, trying to get the system to work without crashing.  (The fonts I pulled out worked fine with the first book in this series, but we're trying everything.) There is no good alternative for the font that I will need to replace now . . . it took quite a bit of research to locate it in the first place. I will need to reconceive the design to use something entirely different.

Where that leaves me, the book, and the whole publishing vision

So that's where I am this morning: working on a book without font management software, with only the essential fonts installed, one of them still not available, and the potential for a crash at any minute.

If I can get this book safely completed (including the total redesign) and into PDF format for transmission to the printer within the next three weeks, the fiercely independent Nomad Press may survive. If not, I am looking for work. I am probably looking for work anyway. I don't get paid for computer troubleshooting, or for re-doing layout work I've already done (repeatedly).

Oh, I still also need to write back-cover copy and arrange for, or produce, several final illustrations, coordinate the proofreading (needs that redesign first, so the text is correct) and indexing (needs the redesign implemented throughout, so what's on each page doesn't change), and I forget what else.

Good news: I successfully acquired the Cataloging-in-Publication data from the Library of Congress over the weekend, only possible because I qualified for the electronic beta program earlier this year, and I think I have the most important final illustrations in place now.

Although when I opened the book file yesterday afternoon, a half-dozen of the placeholder images for the technique drawings were inexplicably missing from the file. I had to re-locate and re-plug them in.

Screensaver text: "One thing at a time."

I gotta get out of here

End of day: Take the dogs to a farm pond for a therapeutic swim.

Ariel (13 years and 10 months old) wears a vest because we're working on strengthening her arthritic back legs.

Tussah (about 10 years old) just comes along for the fun.

Because it was the end of the day, there were lots of mosquitoes, hopefully not the variety that carries West Nile virus. My daughter says, "At least they're the kind of bloodsucker you can squash." Yes, we had bug dope on.

Now, all we need is computer-bug dope. . . .

And today. . . .

Morning again: Take two Excedrin and sit down at the computer. Avoid most problems temporarily by writing a blog post. Gather courage and click to open InDesign, then the book file. Directly opening the book file, which should work fine, results in more crashes than opening the program first. I've learned a few things in this process.

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Copyright 2008 Deborah Robson

WY-CO

As we moved into the last driving day of our trip, we edged toward the plains. The landscape still has quite a bit of rolling relief in this area, with some characteristic human interventions, like rows of wind turbines along a ridge, forming a wind farm:

That was just one of the arrays that we saw. Semis were also on the interstate carrying blades for the turbines. The blades may have been manufactured in Windsor, Colorado, which is near where we live. The blades are so large (131 feet/40 m long) that a single one is often considered a truck load, although we saw one trailer carrying two (there are three blades to each assembled turbine set-up). The plant is new, having just opened this spring. This week, Vestas (owner of the Windsor plant) announced that they'll be setting up to manufacture the turbines in Pueblo, Colorado. And they're putting another plant in Brighton, Colorado, to manufacture more blades and nacelles (for housing the gearboxes, generators, and transformers).

Vestas is a Danish company. Denmark has shifted its energy dependence over the past couple of decades. In 1973, it was 99% dependent on imported energy and now it is 0% (zero) dependent.

Yes, the situation here in the U.S. is extremely different than in Denmark. We'd need to come up with different solutions. But wouldn't it be cool . . . and FUN! . . . to solve these problems? Like, now?

And I know I'm driving a car on this trip, using fossil fuel. I don't have an alternative yet. I'm getting great mileage, which is some small consolation (the average gas-fueled car gets 20 mpg; the best of the fuel-efficient cars get about 40 mpg and don't fit either our needs or our budget; our overall average for this trip was 29.7 mpg). I'm also imagining, out here on the road, a world where the interstate lanes are divided up between different modes of transportation, and people take wholly different types of trips . . . maybe even with a larger number of vacation days. (I'm self-employed; technically, I either don't have any vacation days, or all my days are vacation days . . .  except then we don't eat. Yes, I brought work on this trip. And I got it done, too. I only brought work that was low-stress, so it really was a vacation.) In this world I'm imagining, there would be more rest stops, because there would have to be, with more interaction at those rest stops with the people and environment and history of each locale. We'd all get smarter about issues beyond our back yards. Local businesses would flourish. . . . Dreaming on. . . .

A wind turbine blade has been trucked to a sculpture park in Denver for the Democratic National Convention, which begins tomorrow. It will visit the Republican convention as well. As an aside, Vestas is bringing 1350 new jobs to Colorado. For a number of years, the big news around this state has been outsourcing of jobs to overseas providers.

Some folks think it's boring to drive through Wyoming.

Sharp-eyed handspinners may note bits of a Lendrum wheel peeking up at the back end of the load. Hint: The flyer's on the right. Gord Lendrum's website is astonishingly uninformative, but you can find out about the wheels on many retailers' sites. The folding-style Lendrum is a terrific wheel for traveling: sturdy, compact, nice to spin on.

Here's another human intervention in the Wyoming landscape—some of the many phalanxes of snow fences:

Mile after mile of them, about 12 feet (2 m) tall. With the broken and weathered boards repaired on a regular basis (and also available later, recycled, for rustic construction projects). Snow and wind are big deals in Wyoming. The roads get closed a lot because of weather.

Laramie means we're almost home. It was mid-afternoon when we arrived there and we were hungry. We stopped at Sweet Melissa Cafe, which I'd heard about but hadn't tried. Even Laramie is a bigger trip than we usually indulge in. There were tables out front, in full sun. The inside of the place was cool but . . . dogs. We took our lunch and walked about a block to a small park by the train depot and railroad tracks.

It was one of our nicest stops.

And a good conclusion to the trip.

Trip odometer: 2828.2 miles (4551 km).

New York, NY, to Seattle, WA: 2839.06 miles (4569 km).

According to MapQuest, we drove 11 miles (17 km) less than a coast-to-coast trip.

Green shows the trip west, blue-green the trip back east. Asterisks: where we spent the nights—Ogden, UT; The Dalles, OR; Ocean Park, WA; Nampa, ID; Rock Springs, WY; home (CO). I just realized they're all in different states, and one for each state we traversed.

The second map is unmodified. Both National Atlas of the United States, August 24, 2008, http://nationalatlas.gov .

ID-WY

We're up to Saturday, 8/16, which seemed a quintessentially Western U.S. sort of travel day. Long. Hot, because it's summer. Superficially boring, unless you are tuned to subtleties.

We started the day in Nampa, Idaho, and ended it in Rock Springs, Wyoming. We'd aimed for Rawlins, but the day ran out before we got there.

We set out after the least pleasant of our trip's motel stops. The motel was the most locked-up and least secure-feeling of the four we used on this trip.

We determined to locate either a TCBY or a Dairy Queen during the afternoon, partly as a bow to my grandfather, who used to stop at DQ in the 1950s and 1960s. He was a superb cook with excellent taste, and the DQ of that era was something he enjoyed. I'd be interested in comparing the DQ soft-serve of then with the present-day version, if that was possible. Ultimately we failed at this quest, although the borrowed GPS led us to what might once have been a source. Maybe the GPS unit was having a hallucination, like the mirage of water that appears across the highway on roads out here.

Instead of sticking with the interstates, we shifted our route to go by way of Pocatello, Idaho, and then traveled along US 30 through Soda Springs and Montpelier.

This set of photos was all taken after 4 p.m., after we'd given up on our hunt for pseudo-ice-cream. I was struck by the variety of landscapes we traversed, all "Western rangeland." My daughter took the photos, because I was driving . . . she took all the shots from the car throughout this trip.

4 p.m., colors and textures like quilts

Sometimes out in this part of the world you come up over a rise and feel like you're in a low-flying airplane, with patterns stretched out in front of you that are more surprising than during flight because they are unexpected.

Half an hour later, different textures:

And another shift . . . I'm especially fond of this photo:

Waiting patiently for Little America:

5:30 p.m., dreams of paint and canvas

These images don't show the shadow-drama that caused me to ask my daughter, "Can you catch that for me?" The light shifted, of course. But scenes like this one, of Wyoming mountains viewed from just before we left Idaho, made me wish I had more time and my oil paints.

6:30 p.m., pilot car

We were first in line at this stopping point. We turned off the engine, opened the windows, and got out our books to read. The guy in the pickup behind us walked around his truck a few times before pulling out his cell phone and calling someone to say he'd be late.

After a chapter or two, the pilot car showed up with its cluster of westbound vehicles, turned around, and started back east.

Yup. A pretty thoroughly closed road. The pilot car led us through rocky single-track.

And here's the traffic at the other end, waiting for us to get out of their way:

7:30 p.m., Little America

We rejoined Interstate 80 just west of Little America. The first Little America opened in 1934 in Wyoming. One of the big things about Little America was that you could get your car or truck fixed, which could be really important. You still can, 24/7. The Little America we stopped at is marked on standard maps, even though Its population in the 2000 US Census was only 56. Everybody else is just passing through.

It looks like a misplaced island of green floating in a dry sea:

We walked the dogs around the perimeter, along the sharp line of demarcation between irrigated and natural areas. Cup-shaped dirt craters around the trees direct water to their roots. Where the grass ends, there's also a wire fence, either to keep the real world out or the cultivated world in.

Wyoming

Wyoming is sometimes described as a "small town with really long streets." It has fewer people than any other state (even than the District of Columbia). The 2006 population estimate was about 515,000. The whole state contains about 6.25% of the population of New York City (2007 numbers). In population density, only Alaska has fewer people per square mile. Wyoming's score is 5.1 (Alaska's is 2.6, but the total population is about 670,000).

The state motto, "Equal Rights," reflects the fact that women in Wyoming obtained the right to vote early: in 1869. That was the year that Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton established the National Woman Suffrage Association to work on getting a national amendment to the Constitution to do the same thing throughout the U.S. (it took 51 years: 19th Amendment, 1920).

Dig into Wyoming history more deeply and you find puzzles, contrasts, and the unending wind. It seems like every 5 miles along the highway a diamond-shaped sign says "high wind warning next 5 miles."

The Chamber of Commerce says Rock Springs is "known as the home of 56 nationalities; a true melting pot." Not only could I not find a list of those nationalities, it turns out that Sweetwater County (which contains Rock Springs) has been unable to obtain accurate population counts from either the State of Wyoming or the U.S. Census. The county's "official" number is a guess, based on how many utilities hook-ups there are, multiplied by an average family size (2008 demographics PDF).

Wyoming: slowly but steadily stretching the traveler's thoughts like stiff taffy, mile after mile.

OR-ID

We left the cool coast on Saturday morning and headed east along the Columbia River Gorge into increasing heat.

My sister had suggested that we take a slight detour east of Portland and visit Multnomah Falls. Because of the scorching sun, every tourist or resident who could possibly get to the falls had decided to make an excursion there. The temperature was much pleasanter than in the surrounding territory, and you could get wet if you wanted to.

The road and the falls area feel like they haven't changed much since the 1930s. Parking was a challenge, but we managed to find a spot on our third pass.

In the stream way below the falls, on the other side of the extremely narrow highway, are some lovely areas of shallow, clear water for wading.

The falls themselves require a series of photos.

Here's the very top:

The water drops into this:

Then this, with the viewing bridge, to which we decided not to climb because of the crowds:

Here's the lower part of the falls, and the viewing area near the bottom:

And if you go look over the edge by the railing in the last photo, you can see the pool right at the base of the lower falls:

The extent of the upper and lower falls:

542 feet = 165 m

69 feet = 21 m

Total 611 feet = 186 m

And yes, dogs are welcome, even if they're not very interested in non-participatory scenery:

In 1996, a boulder weighing 400 tons (363 metric tons) broke off and fell into the pool at the base of the falls, making an 80-foot (24 m) splash and injuring 20 people. A ranger at the base of the falls said the rock was the size of a bus. Yow.

Next time, we'll visit some of the smaller falls along the same historic highway, mostly because of the crowds. Although maybe because of that rock.

Much of our route on this trip followed Lewis and Clark's path or the Oregon Trail. It was interesting to imagine crossing some of these landscapes by the means of travel used for those journeys, and what it might have been like to have seen these things from the perspective of people in the early or mid nineteenth century.

Then there's the car again:

As we stopped in The Dalles, Oregon, for gas, the temperature was 110 degrees F (43 degrees C at least sounds cooler to people attuned to Fahrenheit measurements). We would have waited for a less sizzling time and place to stop, but there wasn't going to be one. Except for a three-second microclimate area near Umatilla, Oregon, the temperature stayed over 100 degrees F (38 degrees C) until about 6:45 in the evening, when we were well into the mountains—I think they were the Blue Mountains—of eastern Oregon, when the indicator finally dropped to 99 degrees (37 degrees C).

We passed into Idaho to a whiff of smoke (more fires burning in Washington state and Oregon) and the sight of the full moon just above the horizon:

We landed in Nampa, Idaho, for the night.

A good, long feline life: Ms. Little Bit, 1987-2008

I'll return to the trip account in the next post. This is a memorial to Little Bit, also known as Ms. Bit and The Empress of the Universe.

Little Bit lived with us for almost her entire life. She was technically my daughter's cat, and became part of our family constellation at the age of about eight weeks, when my daughter was six years old.

With the help of a vet student and a friend, she made it nicely through our absence on this most recent trip by staying in the familiar environment of home. The friend wrote us an e-mail to the effect that "Lil Bit says she doesn't know who all these people are, but she is glad you have finally hired more staff, as befitting her royal self. She was lounging about on the sofa when I stopped by. . . ." And when we arrived home, she looked and felt so much better than during our previous two trips, when we'd had to board her in a medically equipped facility and almost lost her.

Yet over the last two days, it became obvious that her body was just, finally, worn out. She'd been successfully balancing a couple of chronic illnesses for many years, with our vet's and our assistance, but she reached her limit yesterday, at the age of 21 years and 3 months.

Many thanks to Dr. Julie Gamble, who has been Little Bit's primary health resource for almost fifteen years, to Heather and Brenda for extra support since Julie opened her own clinic, and to Dr. Kathleen Cooney for helping us provide Ms. Bit with a comfortable transition between 9 and 10 last night.

Requiescat in pace.

Little Bit embodied a sturdy, steady spirit in a small package.

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Miss Chuff, Kittikin, Mitten, Prowlie (the visiting cat), Wump (Tiger Lily), Wow (Douglas Fur, Thunderpaw, The Big Milk Lick), Rowlie, Little Bit: Requiescant in pace.

Visiting an edge of a continent

The place where we spent last week is the Long Beach peninsula, an elongated spur off the southwest corner of Washington state. The peninsula is about 28 miles (45 km) long and 1.5 miles (2.4 km) wide, located within an area known as the Graveyard of the Pacific because of the number of shipwrecks that have occurred there.

At the base of the peninsula is the place where the Columbia River and the Pacific Ocean meet. Although the Graveyard of the Pacific extends from Vancouver Island in the north to Tillamook Bay on the Oregon coast in the south, at this location alone, called the Columbia Bar, more than 2000 ships have sunk, some of them recently.

This is Cape Disappointment lighthouse, built in 1856 to prevent reduce the number of disasters at the conjunction of river and ocean.

It was visible to ships coming from the south, but when shipping routes also began to go to, and come from, the north, it couldn't be seen from that direction. Ships would overshoot the channel and crash on the rocks.

Forty-two years later, in 1898, the North Head lighthouse was constructed:

The North Head light is visible from both north and south (as long as there isn't too much fog). North Head now serves as the primary light, visible from 17 miles (27 km) out at sea.  Cape Disappointment light is now a guide to ships in its immediate area.

Tourist information acknowledges that while the beach along the extended peninsula can be fine (being aware of tides and storms), the water along this stretch is, as they point out, not very "user-friendly" for people as well as ships. There are dangerous currents and riptides. The peninsula is a great place for kites and sand castles, but not for swimming or other water sports.

The low-lying peninsula can be battered by weather, and in addition has the rare but significant potential of being suddenly inundated by a tsunami generated by either a distant or a local earthquake.

Tsunami evacuation routes are marked along the highway; the goal in an evacuation is to get to higher ground . . . at least 50 feet (15 m) higher than the coastline. It's a good idea to be aware of local conditions. As it turned out, the place we were staying was relatively close to what qualifies as "higher ground," even though the landscape looked flat to somebody who lives adjacent to the Rocky Mountains.

This is the warning we see closer to home, in the mountain canyons:

See that hill the person is climbing? It is more likely to be rock and closer to vertical than the illustration suggests. We also have black widow spiders and rattlesnakes, not found on the Long Beach peninsula.

On the inland side of the peninsula is Willapa Bay. Lots of oysters and clams. Elsewhere on the peninsula are lots of cranberries and blueberries in season. Here's part of Oysterville, which is a historic district:

In Ocean Park, which was within walking distance of our home base, we found the 1887 Taylor Hotel building. It now houses Adelaide's, a lovely coffeeshop and bookstore: small and delightful.

Free wireless access. Closed on Thursdays.

Right down next to the water is Tapestry Rose, a yarn shop that shares a building (and owners) with the homey Full Circle Cafe. Tapestry Rose is exactly the kind of yarn shop that you want to find down the road from where you're staying: useful stuff tucked into all the corners. Beach sand at the front door.

Anything else you might need can be found at Jack's Country Store, if you walk a couple of blocks away from the beach. Great supply of oil cloth up in the attic. Swatches in the hardware department, then they'll bring down what you want.

But we came to town by way of Jack's so we could walk back to our cabins by way of the beach. The sand is fine and soft. It's good to check detailed landmarks from the other end before setting out, though, because the beach seems endless and you could walk all the way to Long Beach if you're not careful.

We guided by the half-burned log near the dune grass and the distinctive peak of one of the houses that was just visible over the grass from particular angles. Except when the fog was thick.

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During our multi-state drive to Washington and back, we listened to a course on CDs. Called "Monsters, Gods, and Heroes: Approaching the Epic in Literature," it was presented by Timothy B. Shutt of Kenyon College. We borrowed it from the library and I'd link to the publisher's web site, but it's balky at best (Modern Scholar, now hosted by Recorded Books). Shutt discusses Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, Virgil's Aeneid, Beowulf, Dante's Divine Comedy, Spenser's The Faerie Queen, and Milton's Paradise Lost, along with Shutt's thoughts about the epic's potential role in contemporary culture. Straightforward, clear, and sometimes funny.

While we chose the course before we knew much about where we were going, the forces at play in the landscape we visited are definitely of epic proportions.

The small bookstore at Adelaide's stocked, among other things, TWO copies of Robert Fagles' translation of The Aeneid. Hardcover. In a past life, I read all of books 1 through 6 and parts of books 7 through 12 in Latin. I actually remember a bunch of what happened, but I'd be interested in reading the whole thing in English. I was tempted. It would be a good thing to read near the sea.

But by the time I discovered it, we needed to begin our voyage back inland.

But can we hike with our dogs?

One of my freelance jobs is writing interpretive and informational signs for natural and cultural historical sites. We went to a lovely location that could use some instructional clarification:

(and epsecially a little extra proofreading).

No dogs allowed, with three exceptions: one of them is "on leash within the state park" (wherever that is).

BUT, look at this!

Cool. The perfect length for our mixed-age group, and bikes and dogs are allowed on the trail. Also we'd be okay on taking the extra trail to the ocean with our dogs, although not if we'd had bikes.

Then we got to the trail head.

Which is the Dune Forest Loop Trail? There are three loop trails, none identified as the one we want. And what's with the NO DOGS sign? What does it apply to? It looks like it includes the beach trail that we thought was open to us. Bikes are allowed on the loop trail only, whichever loop trail that is. The directional arrows are ambiguous. None of these hikes is 2.9 miles, which would be the trail we're looking for; "our" trail's code from the other sign is red. There is what looks like it used to be a bit of red coding by the south parking lot trail (with an arrow pointing straight ahead).

We place our bets on trying to correlate the map on the first sign (located back in the parking lot, with the specific instructions about who can go where) with what we think is the lay of the land. We go right from the way-obscuring "wayfinder" above.

**

Following the completion of the hike and return to the parking lot and the original signage, I think we guessed right. One of our hiking companions for that day is a lawyer and did offer to defend us if we got in trouble because it was clear that intelligible information was lacking.

We had no interest in taking our dogs where they weren't appropriate. We kept them on leash, and to the best of our knowledge we didn't scare any wildlife or leave any evidence of our passage, other than footprints.

But I think the multiple entities governing this area need to hire someone to put together new interpretive and wayfinding signage.

WA

I'm a behind on posts. I'll try to catch up to complete the circle.

Here's where we ended up after our drive through six states:

It was not boring, like the car:

Ariel is 13.75 years old. She thought the beach was really nice. We had to make sure she didn't walk too far, because she would have kept going until she couldn't move! Tussah (the red dog) is 9 or 10 (we don't know). She walked even more.

There were moments of Introvert Family Reunion:

And a few extrovert-energized meal discussions (with dogs):

Cooking and dishes:

Very short field trips:

And cousins, ages 16 to 27, and 5'2" (157 cm) (maybe) to 6'3" (190 cm) (and continuing):

Then we had to leave again. But first we got everybody together:

And took one last walk down to the beach.

 

OR-WA

All these photos come from several days ago, but connectivity has been iffy where we are now.

We drove into parts of the continent where there are trees, and then also visible water:

My daughter took a photo of what she considered an unusual load, and it struck me that because of where and when I grew up a pile of hay on a semi looks totally normal . . . all a matter of experience and perspective:

I did notice that between trucks and trains, a lot of raw materials were moving around along the Columbia River corridor. The tracks parallel the highway, and there were a lot of cars piled with lumber on this train:

The farther west we got, the more green our surroundings became. The contrast with the parts of Utah and Idaho that we passed through is astonishing:

 

We ended up crossing some coastal mountains on a winding, two-lane highway. It was beautiful, but if I'd know the navigator (in the right-hand seat) was going to send us this way, I would have filled the gas tank before we turned off the main road. We made it to the other side and stopped at the first station we saw. It was a gorgeous digression from the limited access roads. Well, limited access in a different way than this. . . .

Some of us still found the travel boring. . . .

When we came to the bridge across the Columbia River at Astoria, Oregon, I was struck by what astonishing engineering feats structures like these are.

Coming from the south toward the north, the first part of the bridge (above) is elevated to let ships pass through. The second part is lower, like the Hood Canal Bridge, which I used to cross frequently when I lived on the Olympic Peninsula  (its official name isn't Hood Canal Bridge, but I'd never heard it called anything else until I just looked it up).

There's a different view of the Astoria bridge here.  According to Wikipedia, the bridge is 4.1 miles (6.5 km) long, and is the longest continuous truss bridge in North America. It was also the final piece of coastal highway 101 to be constructed, started in 1962 and completed in 1966.

After I'd moved from the area, the Hood Canal Bridge was broken by a storm. Ferries replaced it (and ferries crossed the stretch of the Columbia, above, from 1926 until the Astoria-Megler bridge was built). That bridge was a different structural type, was subjected to sustained storm winds of 85 mph with gusts of 120 mph, and took a long time to replace. The Astoria bridge was built to withstand winds of 150 mph.

Things like this make me think of what humans are capable of on a grand scale . . . some good, some bad. ("If we can put a man on the moon" is the usual comparison, but that doesn't have the same effect for me as a big bridge.)

I normally focus on small-scale capacities that build to become larger projects: the simple twisting together of fibers that can then be turned to so many uses, like shelter, clothing, and increased ability to obtain food. When I see mammoth projects like this, I wonder why we aren't putting similar ingenuity and vision to work to solve problems like energy use, hunger, and war.

If people can build things like these bridges (even when they sometimes may need to be rebuilt), and it's obvious that we can, we really can do amazing things. We do need to be able to perceive that the problems can be solved, the determination to persist with idea-generation until we come up with solutions that won't harm the environment (which many past projects didn't take into account adequately), leadership to coordinate the work, and the ability to muster the resources.