Sure you've heard of sidewalk surfing, lawn darts, street hockey, but we've got something different for you -- front-yard flyfishing. You can't drive a city block these days without seeing some daring angler matching wits with the wily denizens of his neighborhood -- the postman, the gopher, the neighbor boy Willy...whoever's biting. Rumors of good action travel fast in these parts -- "Psst...the bite's on over in Clovis! Try stripping a #6 hot-dog over on Rall Street -- the kids are suckers over there!" And before you know it, Rall Street is a thicket of front-yard flyfishermen waving their sticks and shouting things like, "What are the milkmen biting on?" It can really ruin that small-town neighborhood feeling in a hurry, let me tell you. But, hey, as long as they're biting, try to remember that the limit on newspaper-boys is two per-day, four in possession. It only works if you make it work!
We spent a relaxing evening sleeping in the Bohner cabin, waking up with the sun streaming in through the uncurtained windows. Another gorgeous Sierra morning. After a breakfast of cold cereal and milk, Kristanne made coffee and filled the birdfeeder as I dawdled my way through the morning dishes. Then, we sat outside and identified the birds as they came up to eat from the birdfeeder. "Let's see," said Kristanne. "There's a Steller's Jay, and a Steller's Jay, and look! There's another Steller's Jay!" I tried to scare off the Steller's Jays with some really, umm, inventive guitar playing, but they weren't having any of it. They stood their ground. So, we took to identifying the birds carpeting the forest floor down by that woodpile you see there at right. We managed to even get one new one for our life list -- the White-Headed Woodpecker. It's true -- the Odyssey is not always about full-tilt excitement and nonstop thrillseeking. Sometimes, it's about birdwatching. |
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| In fact, the whole "life list" thing has been an enjoyable diversion for this Odyssey. One of the best things we did at the start of the trip was to get a field guide to the birds of North America. Then, we keep our eyes peeled for birds of distinction, trying to identify them in the field guide. When successful, we add them to our life list -- a list of all the birds we've seen in our lives. It's actually a heckuva lot more fun than it sounds. And don't get me wrong -- it sounds plenty fun. Give it a shot! | |
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Birdwatching can only last so long, though, before Kristanne launches into her versions of the more passionate arias from the opera, "Carmen," using only one of her grandmother's quilts as a prop. Here you see her accepting the imaginary cheers of a make-believe audience. This is only a couple seconds before she walks over to the edge of the kitchen, picks up an unseen bouquet of flowers thrown by some mythical admirer, and blows kisses to the assembled many seen only by her. It's a bit strange to watch -- I'm never sure whether I should applaud or pinch her to wake her up. |
| Once Kristanne was back in the land of the living, we cleaned up the cabin and headed down the hill to Fresno to say our goodbyes. We started with Grandma Bohner who sent us on our way with a bulging package of snickerdoodle cookies -- mmmm...snickerdoodles! Then, it was on to see Uncle Stanley and Aunt Betty. We dropped off some of the things they had been so good as to loan us for the party and then headed off to Wal-Mart to pick up some flyfishing gear for Stanley. He'd been wanting to get into the sport, so we went and got him a line and a reel to go with the pole he already had. We even got the whole thing assembled and working, as you can see by the picture at right. And, no -- I didn't keep the milkman. He was an inch undersize. | 
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Our final stop in Fresno was Grandma and Grandpa Allen. They sent us on our way with some good conversation and best wishes, and then we were off. Headed for the California Coast, ready to complete our coast-to-coast-to-coast experience. We pulled into Cambria Pines on California Highway 1 shortly after dark, still able to gaze upon the Pacific. It has been a long drive, and it isn't over yet, but seeing that old Pacific Ocean again sure felt nice.
There was no time to rest, though -- we needed to find a campground. Unfortunately, that was more difficult than we anticipated. Summer campers were everywhere, filling the first four campgrounds we checked to capacity. This was strange to me -- when I think summer camping, I don't think beach. Shoot, you can always to go the beach. In the summer, you need to go to the mountains while there's no snow, right? Apparently, someone forgot to tell all these folks. After our fifth full campground, we gave up and caved in, staying at a Holiday Inn Express in Pismo Beach. Hey, Kristanne even talked 'em down $25 from their asking price! Not bad, eh?
We close with a scenic shot of the rolling, golden, coastal hills of California. Check back tomorrow as we head down the coast to L.A.
Total Miles for 8/12 = 277