Tom said he wished he had been consulted. He had been looking forward to a quiet weekend at home after our trip to DC. The boy arrived Saturday night. By Sunday morning Tom tells us to go to Oysterville a day early. I am still cleaning and unpacking, but he says go. So I load everyone and everything into the car and take off.
It is rainy and overcast when we get down to the beach on Sunday. Oysterville is the worst in the rain. We stay in the upstairs of a barn on my parents' property. It is an open room with no privacy. Great for a free week at the beach in good weather. Cramped for bad weather.
The place is full of ancient furniture. These are the pieces that didn't make the cut to go to nicer accommodations. knobs are falling off drawers or drawers themselves are falling off if you are not careful. It is "night at the museum" of 1863. I usually pitch a tent for the boys in the yard to minimize the damage to the house. They can use the toilet as needed. I prefer them to find an obscure place outside if they can. They are boys after all.
Last year there were bears. We did not come down. I didn't want to bring our dog or have the tent up. It was also right after my Dad died and I was cleaning out his house. Really July is the only month I can go with August being football. I was exhausted and just didn't make it.
This spring 10 black bears were captured. five had to be put down as too domesticated. A woman had been feeding them dog food in the area. The other five were relocated. But I am now a little paranoid about food in the tent.
This winter my mom mentioned she wasn't sure we loved the place enough. WE didn't use it enough. I knew we had to make it down this summer for sure.
The drive down, the car is so full I can't see out the back windows of the Jeep. I have a roof box full of three sleeping bags, the big old fashioned kind with flannel lining showing geese flying out of reeds on a yellow background, and hunter green exterior. They are bulky and heavy, and not water proof, but they are so warm and cozy and soft. I love the feel of them. We have pictures of my sisters and me in these sleeping bags, when we were little, on a trip camping in Kanita in Eastern, Oregon. My boys now use them.
I have one slick fluffy nylon sleeping bag,. But the boys were using it to slid down the stairs and ripped the zipper out. I had to sew the seam closed until part way up so we could still us the sleeping bag. I banned them from sliding down the stairs with it, but I know if I am not in the house and the thought crosses their minds, I wouldn't put it past them to pull out that slick sleeping bag and go for it. Right now with Riley sick I know he has a good sense of self preservation. He wont be doing any sliding. But he might put his brother up to it.
Gigi does have beds with bedding, but if you use the beds then at the end of the week you have to strip all the beds and do laundry. You get stuck for hours doing laundry on the last day. She says to just strip the beds and she will come down to do the laundry, but I know she loves to find the place just how she left it. Sleeping bags on the beds make the last day much easier.
She did hire a cleaning lady a couple of years ago. I loved that because it took all the pressure off the last day. But then Mom is pretty frugal and she didn't want to use the cleaning service and did the cleaning herself. I left a check one year for the service and Gigi ripped it up. So now we leave cash. Gigi wont tear that up. Then if I miss something cleaning or she finds something broken, which happens almost every trip with all these "treasures" , She can get it repaired or not get tooo mad at me.
In the roof box are also a case of toilet paper and a case of paper towels. We use a lot of toilet paper. My mom's rule is to replace what you use. So I just bring down my own. That fills the roof box.
In the car are the kites and food and the cooler and our clothes that did not fit in the roof box. Somewhere among that the children are squeezed in. We have to bring down a five gallon water cooler. The house and barn are on a shallow well. It went really bad about ten years ago. There is a spigot on the front of the property that has city water. It would cost $3000 to $5000 to hook up the houses to the city. Gigi opted for $500 and a spigot. She keeps water bottles in the fridge to drink. We warn every one not even to rinse your tooth brush in the sink unless you want the runs.
I remember one summer seaweed or green algae coming out of the tap. I forgot one day two years ago and took a drink without thinking. It was not a good thing. I sat in the shower eating pepto when I got home. I hadn't been able to get my clothes off and make it to the toilet.
There is a little red wagon in the barn. The boy's job is to take the blue cooler in the wagon to the front of the property and fill it with the drinking water and then wheel the now heavy cooler back to a bench on the patio, where it is convenient to use for everyone. A useful outcome of this is it keeps the children out of the very small kitchen area in the barn. They get their water outside.
The kitchen area has a sink, a washer and dryer, and a microwave, and Turkish manufactured refrigerator. Gigi wanted a smaller model fridge, but bigger than the hotel size. The fridge is two feet wide and five feet tall. It has a small ice compartment on the inside that fills up with frosty ice and needs to be defrosted constantly when you use it. A small table with four "gently used" wood chairs is tucked under the stairs. The chairs are painted a cheery burgundy that matches the vinyl mini squares in the floor. But don't wiggle in them or the joints might come loose. Two metal cabinets keep dishes and dry goods clean and safe from ants and rodents that might try to break in.
The building itself is a fortress of construction. Oysterville is a historic community, built around 1850 and later. It is one of the first white man settlements on the west coast. End of the Oregon Trail. It was the county seat for a while, until settlers on the main land side of the bay snuck over by boat and stole all the papers from the one room court house.
Gigi had her house built during the summer of 1982. She hired a couple of shop teachers from a private school in Portland. Master carpenters like This Old House on PBS. They had a crew that came down and lived in the village. Mom paid for their stay at a rental down the street. She cooked all their meals and just had a fun summer watching her little cottage grow.
There had been a building on the sight, but it had been abandoned too long to be salvaged. Gigi had got a great deal on the acre and a half. After salvaging what she could from the existing building, it was tearfully bulldozed. She had saved a cast iron tub and a couple of doors.
Everything had to be historic. No vinyl windows, and only cedar siding and roof. Gig wanted to keep it all natural and not paint the cedar, but she also didn't want it to weather or turn silver. She had been given a recipe of linseed oil and turpentine to slather on the cedar to protect it from the harsh beach elements. She was told to put it on until it wouldn't absorb anymore. The stuff went on so thick and heavy it was sticky. The whole side of the house became one big fly trap for the bug infested neighborhood. She had to power wash the siding the next year and re measure the recipe to stop it from being sticky. It also turned the siding almost black in color. But she liked the look.
The little cottage turned out to be a bit small when company came so a few years later the men came back and erected the barn. When the barn went up it gave everyone breathing room. The little cottage was off limits to children. Entrance was by invitation only.
While we are down at the beach, we are barn only visitors. We roll up in my jeep and start to unload. The first thing is the bikes have to come off so the bike rack can be removed so the trunk can be opened. As I mentioned we were pretty loaded down. Then the children have to be told they need to finish unloading before they take off on the bikes.
Gigi has an adult tricycle, Big had bought her a couple of years ago. She has ridden it once. It is a Rolls Royce of bikes. Riley sees it in the garage and realizes it is his opportunity to keep up. His eyes gleam. He is not allowed to ride bikes at the moment. Doctors orders. I tell him he has to call Gigi and ask permission. This is one real treasure, its "special" . She hesitantly gives permission.
The bike is turned upside down under a tarp to discourage any thought that it might be available for use. We up end it and inflate the tires. It sparkles in the sun. The other bikes in the garage look rusty and beat up. This bike is new and still has the stems on the tires from lack of riding. Riley is thrilled. The other boys don't even think he looks dorky. They think the bike is cool also, with its big basket on the back.
After the car is unloaded, Its damp and raining so I opt not to set up the tent. I raise seats on bikes and pump tires. The boys take off on their respective bikes. I have breathing room. I pull out my beach book and relax. Tomorrow my friends arrive for a relaxing week of sudo camping. The barn is set up to be just comfortable enough for a fun week, but not so comfortable that you would overstay.
Upstairs the token TV gets two stations in black and white. It is there only because my nephew is autistic and it is a good babysitter when the adults need a break. Otherwise we are pretty technology free. Riley brought his computer only because of his condition, otherwise I would have banned it from the trip. There is no Internet, but he has a CD to play.
Once it is dark the boys play on the computer, but I call bedtime and lights out after 10:00. Once the tent is set up tomorrow, they can stay up as late as they want as long as the neighbors are not disturbed.
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