Today turned out to be quite unusual for a number of reasons. First of all, as I mentioned in the blog yesterday, the KOA where we stayed last night has been undergoing a full refurbishment this spring. This meant that as we pulled in we had to thread our way between a small army of big-rig dump trucks, seriously large tractors, and multitudes of guys busily spreading and raking and smoothing the drive area with hand tools before the asphalt spreader arrived in the morning.
Concetta and I just KNEW that if we trusted the camp employees when they told us that we'd be able to get out in the morning, even though the spreader would be throwing down asphalt nearly everywhere, we would probably be stuck until the work was done. Hence we'd spend the entire day "hanging out," doing not much, and enjoying the aromatic scent of warm asphalt as it enveloped the camp.
So you know what we did I imagine: we got up at 5:00 a.m., rushed through breakfast and stowing of all the connection equipment, and then rolled through the front gate around 7:00 a.m. Hence, even though they were warming up the asphalt spreader and all the workers were feverishly maneuvering trucks, doing last-minute "smoothing" of things, and generally looking like they were going to let nothing stand in their way of laying asphalt this morning, we'd didn't let the door hit us in the ass as we slipped out. I did wonder about the Alaska-bound guy, who checked in just ahead of us yesterday afternoon, who told them he'd be ready to roll at 11:00 a.m., and they told him no problem. I just bet even money that he DID have a problem and probably had to stay anther night.
Anyway, this put us on the highway 2 1/2 hours before our usual camp exit time, so we had lots of time to laze along and see all the sights. After gasing up in Leavenworth, we jumped on Route 2 and headed east toward the Washington town of Wenatchee. There we intended to catch Rote 97 north toward one of the most impressive, man-made structures in the country, the Grand Coulee Dam.
Route 2, as you might expect if you study a map, is not exactly a heavily-used highway. Since we ALWAYS avoid the "Blue Highways," the Interstates, Route 2 is just the type of rural road for which we search. Nor were we disappointed, as we got to see miles of verdant, rolling farm land, the occasional rural hamlet now going to seed, and even some great roadside geology.
Once we reached Wenatchee, we turned north onto Route 97 and proceeded to thoroughly enjoy a great morning motoring beside the outflow stream from the Chelan dam some thirty miles to the north of us. Here the acreage was largely being used for orchards of several fruit varieties. All the fruit stands we passed were closed, of course, but we bet that come late summer some mighty fine fruit would be available on this stretch of Route 97.
Once we reached the town of Orondo, it was time to leave Route 97, climb out of the river canyon via a steeply twisting road, and then head further east toward the city of Coulee, which lies next to the Dry Falls Dam that holds back the body of water named Banks Lake. Banks Lake, as we would later learn on our tour of the Grand Coulee Dam, is entirely man-made and draws its water directly from Grand Coulee. The Lake was formed by damming the northern 27 miles of the Grand Coulee, and has an active storage capacity of 715,000 acre-feet. I believe our guide told us that over 400,000 acres are also irrigated by Banks Lake.
After stopping and photographing Banks Lake, we loaded up and headed still further north on Route 155 for our eventual rendezvous with America's biggest, most impressive dam, the Grand Coulee. We arrived at the visitors center right around 11:00 a.m. with the intention of learning about the dam, then taking lunch in the parking lot, after which we'd be on our way. But the staff at the visitor center immediately put the ca-bosh on that idea when they suggested that if we just got to the proper parking lot on the other side of the Columbia river, and at the proper hour, we could conceivably get a tour of the facility itself.
Okay, so we dashed back to the rig, fired her up, then headed several miles down the road and across the mightly Columbia River for a chance at getting the tour. At the visitor center they told us it was a first-come, first-served type of affair and we should not tarry.
We got there just in time to discover that no one else but us had arrived for the tour. Not even the guides were in residence. Alright, we said, move to plan B. We hurriedly prepared lunch, got it eaten and cleaned up, and by then people were starting to arrive, guides and guests alike. So, we locked up the rig and quickly joined the thankfully small group and succeeded in getting a place on the tour.
Some facts on the Grand Coulee Dam: it's operated by the Bureau of Reclamation, and was part of FDR's "New Deal" program back around 1933. The New Deal was designed to use the vast army of unemployed labor, who had been affected by the Great Depression, for constructing anything and everything that the country might need in the way of infrastructure. Projects great and small were done this way; the dam capable of producing 6,809 Megawatts of electricity, or over three times the capability of the Hoover Dam; they used 11,975,521 cubic yards of concrete, or three times that of the Hoover; and it provides power for eleven western states as well as Canada!
We were just a bit disappointed with the tour, since when certain construction projects are under way, you don't get to go down in the dam, or walk across the top. That would have been an unbeatable opportunity, but today the answer was "Sorry!"
Once the tour was over, our next goal for the day was a visit to the memorial for the almost mythic figure of Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce tribe. Chief Joseph and his people were among the last to be forced onto reservations and his story is nothing short of phenomenal. You can check out a short bio at: http://www.pbs.org/weta/thewest/people/a_c/chiefjoseph.htm (Sorry, I can't seem to make link work correctly)
Since the supposed memorial was just up the road from the Grand Coulee, we thought it certainly warranted a look-see. Unfortunately, when we arrived at the wide spot in the road that had been allotted to his memory, it turned out to be just a "Rest Stop" sporting a couple of placards explaining his history. The site did have some cool sculptures which added a bit of class I guess.
At first we stopped opposite some tribal members, who happened to be sitting in an abandoned gas station beside the highway chatting, and asked them if they would direct us to his grave site. They sort of looked at each other questioningly, probably uncertain whether to send us and our 32-foot rig off the paved highway and up a steep dirt road toward the cemetery. But finally they sighed and directed us to the proper route and advised me that we'd probably have to walk the last bit as the RV might be a bit large to maneuver up there on cemetery hill.
But as we got close we came upon another couple of tourists who were looking for exactly the same grave. The two gentlemen and I discussed the fact that they had been unable to locate it, and perhaps the Roadside Rest would be our best bet for learning about Joseph.
I was disappointed that there was no grand memorial, but meeting the two other tourists turned out to be quite a lucky break. The one guy who did most of the talking, Gene Scrivner from Burns, Oregon, is an avid American Indian historian, Oregon Trail historian, and all around American History "nut!" Boy, did he and I fly into a barrage of "history talk" in the few minutes we were together. In the end, I gave him one of our cards, and told him if he ever needed, for instance, a photo done of some historic place in our Nevada, area I'd be happy to oblige him.
There are many and varied lessons to be learned when you're on the road, but a great one is to never, ever be too shy to approach someone for information. I suspect that I will someday hear from Gene again, and maybe someday we'll be able to sit over a cup of coffee and discuss historic subjects to our heart's content. I'd sure like that.
After leaving the Chief Joseph Rest Stop Memorial, we continued north and west on Route 155 toward its junction with Route 97 and the town of Omak. In Omak we expected to find a nice, tranquil camp beside an open field where we could spend the night. And surprise, surprise, that's exactly what we found. We did have to spend a half hour driving in pretty enthusiastic rain, but in the end the sun came out, the GPS tried no shenanigans, and we rolled into Glenwood Camp north of Omak right around cocktail hour to secure the sole remaining space for the night.
So here I sit, tapping away, while Concetta reads her book in the back bedroom. The sky is wonderfully blue, the clouds have been voluminous and fluffy all day, and perhaps we'll get a great sunset as an added bonus. Tomorrow we're headed further up Route 97 until it stumbles into British Columbia, our oft discussed destination for this trip. I rather think that there will be still more changes to our itinerary, but until then we wish YOU exciting destinations and memorable travels from the Davises, the Happy Wanderers.
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