Beer and Memories

Good morning,

I’ve been going through cabinets and cupboards, trying to get ready for Charlie’s visit later this year.  We are going to go through Mom’s things to divide things up.  Today, I found a six pack of Olympia beer.  I was amazed that she still had it.

That beer brought back amazing memories.  Paul and I bought that beer from the Olympia Brewery in Tumwater WA back in the late 80’s.  Thought I’d share parts of that amazing journey with you.

My family were avid campers.  We had been all over the west coast camping in an old army tent. It was on one of those trips to the north coast that Dad taught us to use salt to melt the banana slugs.  We used up all the salt that trip and Mom wasn’t a happy camper.

Paul on the other hand had one bad experience camping.  I believe he went with his cousin, and they put him in a short sleeping bag on the bank of a creek or river, not sure which.  But the upshot was, he woke up wet and cold.  For him, that was the end of camping.  Until we got together.

We started with that same family tent, but he hated being on the ground.  Even the air mattress didn’t help.  From there we moved to the back of the Toyota with one of those shells on top.  Better, but the air mattress kept collapsing between the wheel wells.  Cozy, but not the best of situations for a good night’s rest.

We graduated to a 60’s Aristocrat Lo-Liner.  It was a pretty clean trailer, 14’.  Everything worked in it except for the refrigerator.  Paul worked on the outside making sure all the mechanical stuff worked, while I cleaned up the inside, adding curtains, bedding and other essentials.  But there was one thing missing.  No bathroom.  My Paul, not to be thwarted and definitely not to be without, put a porta potty in the closet.  It was hysterical to see him perched up on that toilet in the closet.  I’m pretty sure he was laughing at me too.  But we were set!  And so, we hit the road in our Ford pickup truck with 2 Yamaha Street/Enduro motorcycles in the back.

We headed north up the coast and saw some amazing things on that trip.  We stopped at the Tillamook cheese factory (yummmm) and the Tillamook air museum where they kept the dirigible airships during WWII.  We stopped at Tumwater and toured the Olympia Brewery where we bought lots of beer for gifts.  We made it all the way to Seattle and had lunch in the Space Needle, went to Pikes Street Market and watched them toss the fish.

But I want to share the trip to Victoria Island.  We had heard that we could have the Queens High Tea in Sydney at the Queen Victoria Hotel.  I was in.  Paul was skeptical, but willing to make it happen for me.

As we pulled in to take the ferry, we discovered that they wouldn’t allow us on with fuel tanks in the back of the truck in the form of Street bikes.  Determined to go, we unloaded the bikes, mounted up and headed for the ferry.  I was a nervous reck because neither one of us had a license to drive motorcycles, but amazingly, they let us on without a word.  We parked and wandered around the ferry; it was a beautiful crossing.

Once on Victoria Island, we made our way through the back streets toward Sydney and the Queen Victoria Hotel for the Queen’s High Tea.  What a beautiful place and such a magical trip.

When we pulled up to the Queen Victoria Hotel, Paul sent me in to make the arrangements for tea.  I’m not sure if it was the riding boots, jeans and tee-shirt or the helmet hair, but they turned me away with a look of dismay that I would ever presume to try to join “Them” in for the “Queen’s” High Tea.

Disappointed, we headed back to the ferry.  But on the way, we stopped for directions and found that there was a little place close by where we could get tea, without the hoity toity.  The woman at the tea shop was warm and welcoming.  When we told her our story, she laid out the welcome mat and gave us a grand time.  Tea, scones, biscuits, you name it, she laid it out for us.   Wow!

Happy and ready to head back to camp, he started for to the ferry.  Because we were on bikes, they sent us to the front of the line to be loaded first.  As we pulled to a stop, Paul in his own suave and debonaire fashion pulled to a stop and in one fluid motion swung his foot back to set the kick stand and rolled to the side to let the bike rest so we could walk around.  Unfortunately, he missed.  Both he and the bike rolled to the round, but Paul did a fancy roll onto his back and right back onto his feet.  Everyone behind us got out of their cars and gave him a standing ovation.  Of course he took a bow.

All these memories, from one six pack of beer.  Thanks Mom!

And thank you for listening!