RUBY BEACH.

Ruby Beach is a small beach we visited on the way to our camping spot at Ocean Shores. It is a very pretty beach with vicious rip tides and undertows. No one swims here. To the right of the cove are the ghosts of former headlands, like so many Washington beaches have.


A lot of beach “bones” in the middle. They amaze because many whole trees die on this beach.  Signs warn to keep clear of trees rolling in the surf.


The waves can’t seem to figure out what direction to move. They overlap and surge across one another and reveal the type of turmoil that creates rip tides and undertow.


The headland to the left of the cove kind of gives you the full range. It was a misty, cold, 9:30 a.m. when we stopped.


It too has a string of ghosts almost in a half circle, suggesting what the land underneath the water looks like.


Only gulls and mullets seem to occupy this space. I had hoped to see signs of sea lions.


Again, you can see the criss-crossing tides.


On the right side of the cove, you can see water on both sides of this set of stacks because a river flows into the ocean at this point. People used to find ruby colored crystals in this brackish water which gave it the name of Ruby Beach.  I was able to find a narrow spot and cross over for some close up of these interesting stacks.

They add to the beauty of the beach, but in the end, they are stone edifices with top growth on the larger ones.


Pretty and colorful. At Ocean Shores, we tucked in during the rain. Did laundry. Some computer work, trying to get insurance ironed out for Doug who has begun building on the new house in Oregon that replaces what was flooded out last year. We move again this morning to Twin Harbors State Park.

MURPHYS OPEN HOUSE CONTINUED.

Yesterday was a struggle, with an extended brown out, 50% power. Bitterly cold for us with eight and a quarter inches of snow. I couldn't open my electric garage door. Karen chanced our driveway and went to town. A guy living on our road plowed the main road. The return was dicey. She slid and slipped back up the driveway and with heart racing,  barely made it back to the house. Since temperatures last night were predicted at 12*, she knew the ice would be a more harrowing journey today, when the slush freezes. It did melt some yesterday, then it snowed some more. Then we  had a full power outage for several hours. I saw PG&E working the pole on my property at 10:00 p.m. So, another day of ice and snow. I hope to walk later in the morning and take pictures. It is nice to have electricity back. So, to continue Murphys Open House where Becky, Janice, Leslie and I met Jan at the emergency shelter, see yesterday's late post:

Becky talked with another shelter worker, Tammy, mostly about the beds and blankets. The beds are red cots. The blankets  are made of ugly grey felt, unwashable,  and are thrown away or given to the person who uses them. I thought that was interesting. One person used the shelter last night. And, Jan reported to me this morning she left at midnight, barely made it home the snow was so heavy, got into her house and a tree went down on her driveway after she got in. (She has 4 wheel drive.)

The wine tasting rooms were busy and filled with tasters. At Hovey's we had a chocolate tasting as well. Everyone was in a festive happy mode, as we were. Enjoying the cookies or treats with cider.

A new store had its grand opening that night. The owner has a lavender farm in Arizona and kids that live in Arnold. They have all kinds of lavender based soaps and products. Very nice. We tasted a delicious lavender cookie. Reminds me of that song:

He was only a lavender cowboy, the hairs on his chest they were two, he wanted to be a big hero, and do as the heroes do. Red, green many color hair tonics, he rubbed on his chest every night. But when he woke up the next morning, no new hairs grew in sight. He battled for Red Nellie's honor, and cleaned out a hold-up's nest. He died with two six guns a blazing, but only two hairs on his chest.
Sorry but that song has been buzzing through my brain lately. I tried to sing it for Jim.

I like bags and hats. We have a great bag shop. This Little Volkswagen bag reminded me of Janis Joplin's Volkswagen. Such a sad story. We visited her home town of Port Arthur, Texas earlier this year. The owner was a Joplin fan. Me too.

A Christmas tree made from rough bits of left over wood. I'm an avid recycler and it appealed to me, along with the home-made decorations. I used to lavishly decorate for Christmas. I'm now in favor of items I can haul out that are already decorated and just need to be set up. (It is an age thing, I think.)

Stores in Murphys have changed hands so many times, I always remember the original name. This was Riedel's Grocery. I met neighbors Bitsy and Mike Cameron.

And, Suki Tutthill. She used to own a business in town. We were in the Business association together in the mid 1980's. Running into old friends is another thing I love about Open House.
My very favorite store in  Murphys, though, is the IDEA store, which carries bathroom machineries and sooooo much more. I tell everyone to go. New on this visit was a child size antique porcelain bath and sink.

And, a more modern child size toilet. Tom  imported a truckload of porcelain one-and-a- half- pint, flush toilets, which will be the new law in California soon. I forgot to take Tom's picture, another old friend from Murphys Business Association. We chatted and enjoyed cookies and cider. The best thing about the place is his ghost story and the story of the over too hundred tons of keys and locks he got from Great Britain. All antique. Marvelous place. Just ask and he will tell you.
The open house was officially over at 8:00 p.m. People lingered beyond that, enjoying the fire pits, hating to leave, music still wafting in the air from somewhere. The Highway Patrol patiently waited and didn't come in like commandos and reopen the street to traffic.  It started snowing just before we left town. It was heavy about 500 yards from my driveway. What a lovely night.

GHOST TOWN WITH A GHOST.

Our travel goal yesterday was to avoid the boom-town of Williston and seek out the little town of Baineville, just on the border of N.D. and Montana. Jim found a website for Buffalo Trails Museum at Epping, which was closed, but we decided to have a look at the area anyway. It was about 10 miles out of our way. The turn-off required us to cross two lanes, a meridian and another two lanes of oncoming traffic and whoops!  The road is gravel? Oh, well, we're committed. We bumped miserably along popping rivets and screws and bolts, we are sure,  for about ten miles.

we pulled into town and parked next to this ramshackle old building.

There wasn't a car or a person anywhere in sight. With a one block main street we just walked along taking pictures of this "ghost" town and peeked in the windows.

After a few minutes of poking around, Heather appeared out of nowhere and began watering plants in front of the school.

She took us to the Museum office and introduced us to Shelly. These two women are the only two people who have keys to the buildings we were looking into and even though the museum was closed, they opened up  the buildings and allowed us to tour the complex.

In the front part of the office was a dental exhibit, all items here have been donated by locals. I don't know the population of the town in 1905 when Epping was founded adjacent to the Northern Pacific Railroad, but in 2010 the population was 100 people according to the census.
In every building, the human figures were made out of papier mache  by a guy named Elmer.
Behind the office was some rolling stock. Kind of reminded me of  a Bonnie and Clyde affair.

My quest for something I've never seen before was soon answered. This little wooden horse-drawn wagon is a school bus.

Elmer did a lot of work here. A life sized diorama of his family, with Elmer in bed getting medicine from the doctor, his little brother crying.

This gentleman reading the paper in an exhibit looks just like pictures of Elmer.  In fact, almost all of the gentlemen in the exhibits look like Elmer.

Elmer put together several very authentic box dioramas in which he went to the hill where this Indian village was located, he studied the topography, even picked the grass from the site to make this scene.  He must have been an interesting character.

One building has a unique cement floor.

The one room school house classroom is in beautiful condition.

North Dakota winters require a mighty stove and this one is a beauty.

You'll notice in this kitchen exhibit the wall paper is made from newspaper, not uncommon in the early 1900's.

Another item I'd never seen, a painted story hide.

And from the General Store, a marshmallow beater. I can't quite fathom how I've managed my life without one.

The cafe building is historic as is the tavern. Both are open businesses. The tavern was closed but the cafe was open. We didn't see any activity around the cafe for the hour we wandered the street until lunchtime. Then out of nowhere a few trucks and cars pulled up for the daily special, a cheeseburger and tomato soup.
We practically sat under this buffalo head for our lunch. But, I'm digressing. This is a ghost story.

This exhibit is one the ghost likes to fool with. There is a big space between the two shelving units in this building. Heather and Shelly never enter this room alone because it gives them the willies and they have the only keys. The board was replaced, by a carpenter, screwed in, and, when they returned, it went missing. After three tries, they gave up.

A glass stopper collection was removed for dusting. The girls placed them on top of the case in rows. When they returned, they were disheveled and moved around. Twice. Lights that have been turned out, go on. They think they know who the ghost is.

The man who owned this hardware store hung himself in the open window above so everyone returning from church could see him hanging there. They replaced the window. And the next day it was broken out. They replaced it again. The same thing happened. Now, they just leave it open.
We left Epping glad we braved the bad road and got direction from the girls to a short gravel road to a paved highway that took us right into Williston. We breezed on through.
Everywhere, we see mobile homes in clusters, temporary housing for oil workers. Billboards advertise for house builders needed, jobs, jobs, jobs. It is a boom phenomena. People rent out space in their yards to two or three mobiles.

Road workers needed.

Every half mile or so, we see another well going in.

Bainville was another gravel road town without even a mom and pop store or gas pump. A post office and a church with a few houses. We pushed on 14 miles west to Culbertson, Montana and spent the night in a delightful city park.

MOTHERLODE GHOSTBUSTER.

The setting was anything but ghostly and I’m a major skeptic, anyway. Calaveras County’s old courthouse and jail in San Andreas was a temporary home to wild and dangerous characters during the gold fevered 1800′s. Here, members of the historical society gathered sociably for wine and beer before dinner in what was once the jail yard.

The walled yard is made of native stone, mortarless, and is called dry wall; now over-grown with vines, and beautiful. I spent a lot of time here when I wrote historical features in the 1980′s. Black Bart, the  infamous poet bandit was kept in the jail.  And judge Gotttschalk committed suicide inside the courthouse. Tour guides point to blood spattered books in the law library from his suicide. The building has  been declared haunted by people who have worked here over the years.
Records indicate several inmates were buried “behind” the jail. No one knows whether there was a body under a broken headstone left from 1882. The top of the stone was missing and then rebuilt from pictures. The first court house was a tent. The second one, made of wood, burned. The fine old brick building is too small for a modern court and has been turned into a showplace museum by the Calaveras County Historical Society.

The Historical Society removed an unused public oven from the gold rush town of Calaveritas in 1994 and rebuilt it in the courtyard. Community ovens were made from native stone and held together with mud from heavy clay soil. Ovens like this one hold up well if covered over by a roof. The oven has drawn members to meet in warm months outdoors for pizza, home-baked bread with a salad pot luck, or chicken bargeques. It takes about three minutes to cook a pizza in this oven and they are delicious.

I sat with Sylvia and Cliff Edson, a local restaurant owner who just bought an old Victorian and is restoring it while living in it. They are dealing with ghosts, or several spirits in their house. Sylvia gets frightened by them. Cliff has had the house blessed several times, and is a believer. They don’t upset him. They were stunned to find out the subject of the meeting was The Paranormal. They hadn’t read the notice about who the speaker would be.

I have no idea how many pizzas Clyde Weddell made that night. He made three types, sausage, pepperoni and pesto with sun-dried tomato.  Absolutely delcious.

When Clyde makes pizza, he tosses it into the air. I was never quite able to catch the pizza in the air, but it was fascinating to watch him work. As it got dark, he donned a headlight.

After dinner, we listened to Rick Panzarina talk about debunking and validating ghosts, or paranormal presences in old buildings, businesses and private homes. He turns most of the seekers away, after determining they are only interested in sensationalizing their claims. He says, a good ghostbuster doesn’t  ask for money to investigate your ghost because then, they would always find a ghost.  He uses lasers, 11 cameras, video equipment, and high tech sound equipment. He gave results of having investigated the ghosts in the Court House and other places where he has found evidence of paranormal activity. The blood on the books, if it is blood, did not belong to Judge Gottschalk.  All he had to do was look at the date Gottschalk killed himself, and the date the books were published to know the “spatters” couldn’t have been from his death. He could find no para-normal activity in the Courthouse. He explained in detail how wooden floors make popping sounds that closely resemble footsteps. He and his team of seven people do not allow whispering. They address any presence in a loud voice and ask it to declare itself. They got one very clear “Hi!” Once, out of about 50 buildings. They do not play to sensationalism. Some people would rather have their “fun” reputation than have a ghostbuster disprove any paranormal activity. And, for tourism in the Motherlode, that is quite all right with the locals. Almost every old hotel in the area claims to have a ghost. It is soooo fun!  I’d love to have a ghost in my house. Wouldn’t you?