My mother's death four years later

By Chuck Woodbury
I lost my mother four years ago, on July 5, 2008. Ruth Woodbury was 85. My father had died five months before at age 87.

My father died suddenly, and his death may have been caused by sloppy medical procedures, which made his passing especially sad. My mother died of natural causes. Her frail little body gave up on her, despite a mind that was as sharp, curious and fun-loving as a college girl's.

She moved in with me shortly after my father died. In the decade before, I had seen her only two or three times a year, usually for a few days at a time. Eight hundred miles separated us.

Her last five months with me were among the most wonderful times of my life. What fun we had! We laughed often. We watched baseball games together. On sunny days, I drove her to the shore of Puget Sound where we would sit on a bench, my arm over her shoulder, and watch the ships sail by.

Every night, I would tuck her into bed, hooking her up to oxygen to ease her breathing. She smoked for 30 years and paid a cruel price for it. When I attached the oxygen tube to her nose, she looked at me like a helpless child. She would stare into my eyes as I would hers. I will forever cherish that image.

I realized a month or so after I brought her home that I had quit thinking of her as Mother or Mom, but as Ruthie. Frail and weak, she needed my help just as a child needs that of a parent. She was my little Ruthie.

Now, four years after her passing, I miss her very much. Hardly a day goes by that I do not think of her. Some nights she comes to me in a dream. I love those visits.

These days I have found myself celebrating her life more than mourning her passing. Our final months together were her special gift to me  -- an opportunity for me to know her all over again, and to give back a bit to the woman who gave me life and love. I feel now like she's riding on my shoulder and will be there the rest of my days. I still hear her laugh, and when I do it brings a smile to my face and I feel good all over.

Goodbye again my sweet and beautiful Ruthie. You were the very best.

The photo: My mother at about age 20. My father carried this photo in his wallet every day the 61 years they were married.

An interesting piece of driftwood

This piece of driftwood was alongside a foot path leading to the beach in Ocean City, Wash. I spotted it just as the sun was about to set. I missed seeing it with a few rays of sun on it by a few minutes. I think it might have been more interesting. I took a photo anyway.

If you keep your eyes open there is a lot to see wherever you go. A piece of driftwood can be interesting, even beautiful.

You can't really tell from the photos, but the driftwood was about five feet wide.

I kept my eye out for Japanese stuff from the tsumani there last year. I heard it is making its way to Pacific beaches. But I didn't see any.

I am very tall!

I cooked pasta for dinner. And I ate too much. No big surprise there. I always overeat pasta! It's one of the best foods in the world, right up there burritos.

So afterward, I needed to walk. So I headed off for the beach. I'm at Ocean City in a Washington State Park. I'm a couple of hundred yards from the shore. Signs all around warn of tsunamis. One sign says that if an earthquake should hit close by in the ocean, there might only be a few minutes to evacuate.

So here is how I read that: If an earthquake hits and a tsunami heads this way, "Bye, bye Charlie." Or in my case, "Bye bye Chuck."

I am hopeful that will not happen.

As I was walking to the beach to work off my pasta-bloated stomach, the sun was setting. I looked behind me and saw my shadow. Oh my goodness, all that pasta made me grow very tall!

My father's jacket and crumbs in the pocket

The jacket on my couch.

My father died four years ago. My mother died five months later. I think of them every day. I miss them. Sometimes when I think of them I feel very sad, and alone.

When my father died I took some of his things. I took his wallet home from the hospital. I felt guilty when I opened it and removed the $30. I felt like I was stealing. "Dad, can I have the $30 in your wallet?" But he was not there to ask.

Today, after dinner, I walked to the beach here in Ocean City, Wash., to burn off too much pasta. I was alone. The sun was setting. It was peaceful and gorgeous.

It was cold, perhaps mid 40s. I put my hands in the pocket of my jacket to warm them. In the left pocket I felt tiny crumbs. And then I remembered: it was my father's jacket. I inherited it, too. I keep it in my motorhome closet. I wear it only on trips.

The crumbs were the tiny remains of Kibbles -- treats my father fed to his Pomeranian Lucy. He adored that dog. Lucy and my father were inseparable.

My sister inherited Lucy. My father would have been glad he died first. He told me he did not want to go before Lucy. That's how much he loved her. Lucy outlived him by two years.

ALMOST EVERY EVENING my father would walk Lucy to the nursing home behind his house in Grass Valley, Calif., where she would entertain. "Dance, Lucy," my father would command. And Lucy would stand on her hind legs and circle around until he fed her a Kibble. My father would smile proudly and the residents would cheer.

So there I was this evening, on the beach, wearing my father's jacket. I thought of him. I wanted to laugh and I wanted to cry. But I did neither. I just walked slowly back to my motorhome, tossing the crumbs into the air.

Sometimes you just get lucky

Click on the photo to see a larger image.

I spent some time walking on the beach today at Washington's Ocean City State Park. The sun was shining, with no wind, and I was all alone -- glorious solitude -- just me and a mile of gorgeous beach to the north and the south. And that was what I could see! I'm sure it kept going.

As I approached the shoreline I saw a bunch of sea birds on the ground in the distance and figured as I got closer they'd fly off. So with a strong telephoto lens in my point-and-shoot camera ready to snap, I walked farther up the beach. Even though I was a distance from them, they got spooked and took off. And this is my photo. Sometimes you just get lucky! Click on the photo to see a bigger image.

Day is night today in the rainforest

Photo through my motorhome's window.

HOH RAINFOREST, Wash. -- It's nearly 9 a.m., but you would not know it by looking out the window. You'd think day was just breaking. It's raining, but not just that, it's snowing -- mixed in but not sticking. The wind is blowing the rain and snow sideways.

The clouds must be thick. I have never seen a day so dark because of clouds. And I mean it's dark! Really dark. Almost like night. Yesterday at this time the sun was out. It was gorgeous. Today is ugly. I think this is more typical. In a normal year about 12 to 14 feet of rain falls here in a year -- that's feet, not inches. If you want inches, then that translates to 144 to 168. Compare that with Seattle where about 38 inches falls a year.

Right across the Olympic mountains, northeast of here, only 10 inches of rain falls annually in Sequim, a virtual sunbelt here in the Northwest. The Hoh hogs the rain. And what it misses, the magnificent Olympic mountains pick up as snow.

I'm headed south today on U.S. 101 through more wet landscape. For awhile, the road is right along the gorgeous Washington coastline. I'm not sure where I will end up. But very likely rain will be my companion.

NOTES FROM THE HOH CAMPGROUND: I have been here two nights. The first night there were two tents plus me. Last night there was one tent plus a single guy who slept in his car. A lot of people come here with tents to get rained on. Two days ago at the Pacific Inn in Forks, owners Jim and Laura Decker told me they get a lot of Hoh campers as guests. "They come here to dry out," said Laura.

In the two days I have been here I have not seen a National Park employee or ranger. There is nobody at the park kiosk along the entry road. A sign instructs "Pay at Visitor Center." No problem. But then you get to the visitor center and it's closed -- open only three days a week. I wonder how much revenue the park lost in the couple of days I have been here. There has been a constant flow of traffic in and out of the visitor center parking lot. Everywhere you go these days, park services at all levels of government are compromised. It's sad.

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A brief video tour of the Hoh Rainforest

Here's a 90-second video tour of the Hoh Rainforest campground and Hall of Mosses Trail which leaves from nearby. Never have you seen so much green in one place -- trees, ferns, moss, lichen. It's a gorgeous "green-out." The park and campground are open year round.

Trees across the river

Trees across the Hoh River from my campsite in the Hoh Rainforest in Olympic National Park.

A motel with vampire envy

The Pacific Inn in Forks, Wash., can thank a vampire named Edward for boosting its business.

Forks is a sleepy town of 3,500 along U.S. 101 on Washington's Olympic Peninsula. It's best known for being in the middle of nowhere and for receiving 12 feet -- that's feet -- of rain a year. Along with logging, tourism has long been a big part of the economy.

Enter Edward Cullen, the fictional character in Stephenie Meyer's vampire-themed Twight saga romance novels and later the star in three blockbuster movies.

The story is set in Forks. The movie, while supposedly shot there, was actually filmed in Oregon and British Columbia (not enough motel rooms and other services for the crew in Forks). Still, the end result is that the exposure has launched Forks into the spotlight. Several shops sprung up with vampire related merchandise. For a few bucks, Twilight Tours transports fans to sites from the tale. The town of Forks can thank its lucky stars; many struggling small towns across America should be so fortunate.

Jim and Laura in a Twilight room

A year before the book was released, Forks natives Jim and Laura Decker bought the 35 unit Pacific Inn motel. Laura was a bookkeeper and Jim a logger.

A year after that, Twilight author Meyers came to town for a book signing. "Nobody thought much of it," said Jim Decker. But their mood changed when Twilight fans began arriving in droves. The little community was instantly on the radar. No matter that 12 feet of rain poured down a year or that the sun seldom shone.

Twilight fans, after all, want rain and gloomy skies. Vampires don't like sun, and that's the main reason Meyers chose Forks for her tale.

The Pacific Inn

A couple of years after the Deckers bought the motel they tweaked the decor in some of their rooms to a Twilight theme. Basically, that meant painting the rooms red and black, putting up a few movie posters and providing black bathroom towels embroidered with "Twilight."

It's been a hit. The six rooms book up often even though they go for about $25 more than the same rooms without the special treatment. People of all ages come. Parents surprise their kids. Grandmas and grandpas show up. A couple came for their honeymoon all the way from Australia.

And they don't care if it's dark and pouring rain. "That's the way the vampires want it and that's the way they want it," said Laura.

Take your photo with the movie's stars.

Not only has the publicity from the book and movie been good for the economy, it's been good for the teenage boys at Forks High School. Jim and Laura's son Braden, 17, plays sports there. And that makes him a big hit with the young ladies when he travels wearing his Forks HS Spartan shirt. That's the school Edward the handsome vampire attended.

Learn more about the Pacific Inn and its Twilight rooms at its website.

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An unfriendly woman in Sequim, Washington

I was driving into Sequim, Wash., which is famous for three things: Only 10 inches of annual rainfall (it's not far from Seattle), its lavender fields, and its growing population of retirees. I was hoping to stock up on groceries and get some propane (missions accomplished!). As I drove into town, I spotted a bunch of railroad cabooses in the distance in a circle like pioneers' covered wagons.

The place was closed -- gates across both entrances. Still, it was worth a photo and a short story; I could call the owners later for more information.

I pulled the mo'home off the road and walked toward the business. The sign said "B&B," so one mystery solved.

No sooner had I snapped two photos (from the street), than a woman appeared from a parked car on the property. I smiled and waved. "You can't take pictures here!" she barked. She was very mad, a total surprise. I asked, dumbfounded, "You mean I cannot take a picture of your business?"

Can you imagine any hotel, motel, campground . . . or any other business, not permitting you to take its photo -- to perhaps share with their friends or, in my case, share with thousands of friends. That's plain stupid!

"It'll cost you $20 if you want to take a photo," she said, again appearing totally annoyed with me. I mean, there I was, on the street -- public property -- and she was telling me it would cost me $20 to take a photo of her cabooses. Well, too bad for her, I had already taken not one, but two photos, and I was not about to pay her.

I felt like yelling back at her, based on her meanness. But instead, I figured it wasn't worth it. I concluded, right or wrong, that with an attitude like that her business was probably bad and she was frustrated.

Anyway, a short distance away I stopped at the local chamber of commerce office. "What's wrong with that woman at the motel?" I asked, and I realize now I just blurted it out before I even said hello. I sensed that the two women working there were not fans of the place, but they didn't come right out and say it because the caboose motel is a member of the chamber and they should not say bad things about members.

Anyway, thinking about that mean-spirited woman upset me for 15 minutes as I drove toward Port Angeles. Then I forgot about her. Until now. And now I am upset again. I would never stay at her motel.

AFTERTHOUGHT: I made an assumption that the woman was the owner. She may not have been. But she did say "We charge $20. . . " implying that she was, at the very least, a representative of the business.

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Puget Sound Monster!

Okay, first let me say it is a boring morning here in Port Townsend. It's cold. The rain has stopped, but it is cold and to me that is bad. I am getting ready to start my day. But right now, let me tell you about my very exciting discovery this morning.

I was sitting at the table at my dinette in my comfy motorhome. I am camped right on the shore of Puget Sound. I can see more water than land. Well, guess what I saw this morning? I am quite sure it was a sea monster. That's right!

The famed Loch Ness Monster

Now, let me tell you that I have been to Scotland and to Loch Ness. I spent an hour on the huge lake (Loch Ness means Lake Ness in American English) searching for Nessie with a famed sea monster explorer. Sadly, I did not see the monster on my trip, which was a huge disappointment. But ever since that trip I have been acutely tuned into watching for sea monsters wherever I travel.

And so this morning I was elated at my sighting. It was totally unexpected. Lucky for me, I had my camera handy and was able to snap a quick shot before the monster dived and disappeared from sight. I was nervous that my shot would not turn out, but good fortune was upon me! That said, I must apologize for the photo as it is somewhat grainy. The monster was far away and I was forced to use an extreme close up lens.

But as you can see, there is little doubt I found a monster. The major difference that I see is that this monster has a much shorter neck -- sort of like a duck's -- and a larger back than Nessie. This could be explained, however, by the positioning of the monster at the precise moment that I recorded the image.

Anyway, I am pretty happy this morning to have made this very important (I think) scientific discovery.

I do not like cold

After a few windy, cold days in Port Townsend I have concluded (for at least the 500th time) that I do not like cold. I like WARM! I quit snow skiing years ago because I disliked the cold more than I liked the skiing.

I grew up in Southern California. That may explain why I like to be warm. Then I moved to northern California, where it was not as warm, but not too cold, either. Now, I live in Seattle, where it is colder and for more of the year.

It's easy to see why Seattle people drink so much coffee: they want to be indoors where it is warm, and they need something to pep them up because dark, cloudy and cold days are a downer. Not to everyone, but to a lot of people. I have actually met natives of Seattle who are unhappy when the sun comes out or the temperature rises above 70. Yes, that is true even though I know it is very hard to believe.

If I keep moving north I will end up at the North Pole. That is a terrible thought!

Brewing coffee and keeping it warm without electricity

In this two minute video shot in my RV along the shoreline in Port Townsend, Wash., I show how I make coffee without using electricity. Of course, that's not a huge thing because that's what everybody did back in the ol' "perk" days. But my system not only brews the coffee but keeps it warm for hours -- so no need to reheat!

Seagulls in the sun

MARCH 15, 1 P.M. -- A flock of seagulls is sunning themselves near my motorhome. Every minute, a few come and go, but the populatIon remains the same. They have been flying over and near my motorhome all morning. They coast sometimes, wings spread, gliding with the wind. It looks so effortless, and I bet it is.

Some people do not like seagulls, but I do. I think they are cute. They can make a lot of noise, yes, and that can be obnoxious. But that is not enough for me to not like them.

Here is a fact about seagulls that you will find surprising. On the roads of Iceland, seagulls are the main roadkill. When I was there last fall, I came across many of them, some still alive, but mortally wounded. They looked at me sadly when I stopped in my campervan. But I could do nothing. I felt bad just leaving them there to die.

I would trade my life for a seagulls life, but probably only for a few hours. I would just like to fly for awhile. I have a serious case of fly envy -- always have, always will.

My lonely campsite in Port Townsend

MARCH 15, 2012, 10:45 A.M.
The wind and rain let up. So I took a walk to escape the confines of my tiny home. On the way back, my motorhome looked very lonely. But pretty.

Day Two of March, 2012 roadtrip: Nasty day in Port Townsend, Wash.

DAY TWO: March 15, 2012
Here's my one minute video for Day Two of my West Coast roadtrip. I recorded this in the motorhome because it was too nasty outside to even step out. My campsite is on a point of land right along Puget Sound. I am surrounded by water on both sides of the motorhome and the front. The beach is about 20 feet away and the water another 20 feet. But, alas, it's a mutt ugly day out there -- gusty, howling winds and rain blowing sideways. And it's cold. But all is okay because I am toasty in the motorhome, where I will work today finishing this week's RVtravel.com newsletter.