A Drive through Small Towns and Fading Memories (Day 5)

KK had a memory, as we drove past these Oregon beaches, of daughter Lee and herself flying down the dunes at a hundred miles an hour on one of those crazy rides they would take together. We could not remember where Kelson was. I would have been elsewhere, on a slow-moving trolley contraption of some sort, as I don’t like scary rides. When was that?

Lee on Lincoln City beach, photo by kajmeister

The happy problem of too many memories.

Was Kelson with us? Was he with his friend in Cleveland that one summer? Down at camp?–no, Lee would have been at camp at the same time. How old were they? I think seven and nine because that’s when they were the best traveling companions, after they learned to mind us and ask interesting questions but before they lapsed into teenage silent nods and shrugs.

Lincoln City

Continuing north, we passed Lincoln City, which is world famous for its kites. Sure enough, they had a kite festival in play, but we had cleverly flown ours on a more deserted beach, the day before. Meanwhile, I found the picture of the original One that Got Away with proof that Kelson was with us. Your Honor, if it please the court, this was 2004, and I was exactly right with the ages.

Me, Kelson, and offending kite in 2004. The kids painted the hat. Photo by kajmeister.

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Lift and Bridles in Newport (Day 4: Left Coast Mosey)

Heceta Beach, Oregon. Photo by kajmeister.

The southern coasts of Oregon are just as breathtakingly scenic as those in California, but with a little less of the “look at me” vibe. As I recall, the further north you go, the less pomp and circumstance there is about the scenery and the more scenic it becomes.

We spent the afternoon and evening with friends, admiring their little town of Newport and yakking away about books, food, and other topics–in that order of importance, of course. Also, since this might be the last opportunity, we passed a delightful time out on the beach flying kites that we had brought. This would also fulfill my tourist rule that You Must Use Everything You Packed.

Lighthouse at Newport, Ore. Photo by kajmeister.
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Beautification and Karma (Day 3: Left Coast Mosey)

Tree in Lady Bird Johnson Grove
A 1000 year old tree in Lady Bird Johnson Grove, photo by kajmeister.

In today’s post, I will explain how trees do not grow like beanstalks, why Lady Bird Johnson was a badass, and how I tried to increase the world’s karma.

Trees Are Not Stars

I was about to begin explaining how ancient these coastal redwoods are by saying that when you look up at the lowest branch, some 190 feet off the ground, you are looking back in time. Looking up the details on the growth rate,* I came across a discussion about what would happen if you carved your initials in a trunk and came back ten years later. How high up would that move, and does it depend on whether the tree is an oak, an aspen, or a redwood?

In cartoons, e.g. Jack and the Beanstalk, the plant always pushes out of the ground and then up. However, trees grow more like telescopes than beanstalks. They put out buds, twig, then branch, and the initial bud then buds on top of itself again. The trunk portion on the ground gets thicker; it doesn’t move upward. Your carved initials stay at ground level. This changed my understanding of trees. But then, trees are mysterious.

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