Housesitting in Portland





Helvetia, Oregon 

September 10th - 17th, 2016 

 

 

                 

Over the past few years, we have been paying a lot of attention to people who are finding interesting and alternative ways to live and travel.  The idea of housesitting for vacation kept surfacing in our searches.  The concept is that families, especially those with beloved pets, who need to leave their home for a period of time, are paired up with families that want to visit that same city on vacation.  It is a smart and resourceful idea.  The homeowners get a watchful eye on their homes and special attention paid to their pets by people who come with references and reviews through the housesitting website.  The vacationing families get a free place to lodge as long as they take care of the pets.  Although the website we used,  Trusted Housesitters does come with a $100 annual membership fee, but this seems to add some legitimacy to the homeowners and the potential housesitters. 

The housesitting sites are most commonly used by retired couples or frequently traveling singles.  For this reason, although I have always been in love with the concept, I didn't see it as a realistic option for our family.  Seriously, if a family is willing to pay the $100 membership fee to seek out this type of housesitter, who are they going to choose?  The sweet retired couple with dozens of site reviews, or this wild bunch of five?  Even so...we decided we needed to at least give it a shot. 

Since we had a full five weeks in front of us on this trip, with no real agenda in mind, we did, at least, have a ton of flexibility of housesits we could apply for.  Imagine my surprise, then, at being accepted for the very first housesit that we did apply for in a city we actually did want to visit!  There was a sweet little farm just outside of Portland Oregon that needed someone to take care of a cute little terrier, two cats, 8 ducks, 50 chickens and 5 roosters.  Honestly, I think we were selected primarily for the number of hands we had.  A few of them may be pretty small, but ten hands make for much lighter work.  This was a great opportunity for us, because it allowed us to get our foot in the door and get a review under our belt, paving the way for other potential homeowners that wouldn't otherwise consider us.





 I honestly had no idea what to really expect, but I suspect we have been very spoiled on our first gig.  The house was beautiful and the location was nothing short of magical.  The pets, even the chickens, were the sweetest things.  The work was so satisfying and it was very special to see our kids stepping up to the plate, pridefully taking responsibility.  I was a very proud mama to see them.  In the end, I was proud of all of us, caring for that family in every possible way.

The things I don't want to forget...

Each morning, I would wake around dawn and walk out to the roost.  My feet would make quiet swishing sounds as I made my way through the tall grass.  The roost, obscured by fog, would eventually appear through the mist.  The impatient crow of the roosters and clucking of the hens greeting me as  I climbed over the fence to let them out to play.  The hens would eye me with expectation as I released the locks from the hen house to let them out.  I had expected a bustle of feathers and frenzied feet , but I would smile, pleasantly surprised at the pecking order that required they vacate in the predetermined orderly fashion.  One particular hen, my favorite of the flock, would always jump onto the bar and wait, like a watchful sentinel, as the others made their way to the feed.  At that point, I became entirely irrelevant to them.  A mere spectator that had already served my purpose in their day.  I could quietly watch them as they made their way, occasionally smiling at the few who would peck at the stray chicken feed on the tops of my boots. 
 

   
 

                                              
We loved watching our two youngest children diligently checking the nesting boxes for eggs.  Collecting them while they were still clean and warm.  Beautiful blues and speckled browns filling the cartons.    It was a sweet thing to watch Dizzy in the duck house, priding himself on being able to change the water by himself, filling the food trays and tempting them with scratch in hand.  Giggling at the funny way they would chase themselves around the fence.  Ivy reading quietly to herself in the swing.  The sound of their laughter coming through the trees while they played on Tom's ingenious three seater hammock-swing. Dizzy snuggling up to kitties in a field of butter colored flowers.  The cats sitting in my lap while I worked. Eating dinner together on the porch at sunset each night and reading with Tom afterwards. Walking back to shut the hens in their roost at dusk, the horizon purple to the west and the city lights spread out down the hillside to the east.  The waning cluck of the brood as I walked away for the night.  The soft swish of the kitten's tails as they followed me back to the house each evening, also ready to be put to bed. The glow from the windows before I finally went back inside, knowing that indeed, all the lovely things were safe for the night.
 
  

 

  

 

 
                                      

 
                                      

 

        

 

 
And oddly, I don't ever want to forget the moment that Olive put the family puppy, Chewy, back into its kennel for the very last time.  The way Chewy knew the difference between saying goodbye for the day and saying goodbye for good.  Olive's sweet tears as she walked away from the dog's tiny whimper.  Tears that showed she really loved a thing.  Good tears.

This was, hands down, the most relaxing time on vacation I have ever spent.  It was like actually trying on a new life for a week.  There were so many things we want to take away from it.  We might actually consider a few chickens.  I think we all want a sweet outdoor cat to call our own.  But mostly,  I want a place where my kids have that much freedom to roam.  The way I did with my sisters, a child on a farm. 
 

 

Big Sur

Big Sur - Plaskett Creek Campground

September 5th - 8th, 2016

It is a hard thing to leave your friends and family, even to embark on new adventures.  I just wanted to bring them with us!  We headed north, since we had uncharacteristically reserved a spot for ourselves up at a campground in Big Sur.  We needed to kill a few days first, so we settled in the Los Padres National Forest area.  Of course, we rarely book a spot and it was getting late, so we sort of stumbled into an RV campground on the side of the interstate.  Somehow however, in picking our spot, we inadvertently decided to act like complete novice campers.  We ended up with a spot that was altogether covered in thorns, next to the interstate, a few spots away from a party that lasted about two days, and directly underneath the only street light in the entire campground.  I’m going to blame our site selection on the long day of driving and the setting sun.  Even so, the place had mini-golf and a pool, so the kids gave it two thumbs up.  Also, the RV park owners, a sweet elderly Korean couple, absolutely loved us and gave us free ice and a book that contained the wife’s published poetry.  So…somehow, that campground still manages to maintain a warm place in my heart.  All this goes to show you how far-reaching kindness can really be. So be nice people!  It makes up for our many flaws!

One night, we decided to go into town for some pizza and stumbled across a great little town called Frazier Park that is nestled up at the bottom of Mount Pinos.  The pizza owners suggested that we follow the mountain road to the very top for a nice view.  Always, always ask the locals what you should see before you leave a place.  The Los Pinos Recreation Area sat at the top of the mountain and it was pristine old growth forest.  Our only regret was that we hadn’t found it sooner.  I doubt we could have stomached the campground (at over 8000 ft, it was COLD!), but it was a trail that I would definitely go back to explore deeper. It was hard to believe that our campground, which sat basically in the desert, was only 30 minutes away from this magical place.  It was like two different worlds.

We made it out to the coast and set up camp before dark.  We woke to the glorious waves of Big Sur crashing up against our realization that we did not have anything to eat in the cooler.  At 9am we headed out to “get some breakfast”.  We returned well after dark. You see….this is what is great about not having a schedule.  A little thing like that could have killed a crammed up day!  But as usual, we had nothing planned, so breakfast was our day.  The only problem with this gorgeous stretch of the Pacific coast is that a fried egg at the nearest restaurant costs $4.  Perhaps if I had been travelling by myself down the coast, I could have stomached that cost.  But at five people, I just couldn’t bite the $20 for each of us to consume one fried egg.  Especially since the eggs would inevitably be “too fancy” for at least 3 of these people and probably pushed aside anyway.  You know….like maybe they would have come in one of those tiny cups or have a sprig of mint “touching” it.  It took us all the way to Monterey (almost two hours later) before we finally found breakfast.  We ended up paying $45 for breakfast anyway.   But it was delicious and I was happily in the town that I had been dying to come back to anyway! (Our last trip we only stopped in briefly at a playground).  Monterey was both the homebase of my favorite author, John Steinbeck, and the literary setting for one of my favorite novels, Cannery Row. The rest of the family was super patient with me and ate Dippin Dots while I ran around and completely geeked out down the real life Cannery Row.   We spent a whole day there, watched a mess of elephant seals and lucked out to a dinner by sunset on the side of the fabled Big Sur Coast. Tom was smart enough to  jump on the opportunity to make a hilarious family series of silloughettes.  So fun.  On the way back to camp, Olive remarked, “I thought we were just going out for breakfast?”

If you are ever in Big Sur, Plaskett Creek is the campground to go to.  The sites are giant and green and filled with big beautiful trees.  You won’t get a shower, but you won’t miss it.   This is a site that we actually did reserve about a month in advance, since we knew for sure we wanted to camp on the beach.  We got a sweet spot next to an enormous partially downed tree that quickly became kids’ camp for the entire campground.  Two separate families became our collective camp and the kids spent three straight days climbing trees, swinging on rope swings and playing on the beach. 

I had always thought that sitting by the ocean was one of my favorite things to do.  On this trip, though, I realized how much I loved sitting on the cliffs and watching it from above.  There are moments there that I hope I never forget.  Each morning I would wake up before the rest of the family and cross the deserted Hwy 1, shrouded in fog.  Bird song and the bark of seals would lead me straight through the tall grass to the edges of the cliffs over Plaskett Creek. Scrambling down the paths worn down by other brave souls, I would make my way to a particular rock that jutted out, higher and further than all the others.  It has always been in my nature to peek out from the top.  And that is where I would spend my quiet moments before the sun finally came up. There was so much power looking over the point of that precipice.  The waves rise in such a powerful way, swelling with all that unseen and mysterious life in them.  Like the collective breaths of all those unfathomable creatures.  It crashes savagely on the rocks and up against cliff walls. The small shimmer of seals and dolphins in the distance, skimming the water, is in stark contrast to the terrifying chaos that happens on the rocks just below your feet.  It is a compelling thing to be that close to so much at the same time. 

It is a beautiful world we live in and I hope my kids will always be brave enough to scramble out like this and do that thing they really want to do.

Little Dog - Big Bear

 Big Bear, CA - September 1st - 3rd, 2016

  

 

 

I made a vital decision today.  I have concluded that I need to be OK with making posts that are not in chronological order.  You see, I am burdened by the fact that I never finished typing up our memories for the big cross country camper trip which ended over two years ago.  Even worse, I have written about an inspiring day that happened in Turkey over 3 years ago that I never posted, and only because I didn't get it in before our LAST trip.  And here I am now, wanting to record today's memories while they are still so fresh, and those old unwritten logs are holding me back. 

 

Today I decided that was stupid.

 

I hereby give myself permission to write anything I want, anytime I want.  Yep.   March can come before January.  2016 can be released before 2014.  Dessert can come before dinner.  In fact...I can even write about the future if I get the notion.  The whole point of doing this is so that my memories are preserved for those days when I am really old (way older than 40). By then, my memories will be all out of order anyway.  I loved the time I got a Christmas card from our sweet elderly neighbor that wished us a happy 1999 (it was 2002).  Since when have we been rule followers anyway? 
 

So here it is. This year, for our big trip, we decided to fly out west instead of driving cross country.  I would say it was a hard decision, but that would be a lie.  The truck's arthritis just won't tolerate that drive across the desert again.  It would be cruel. But flying out had some significant advantages:

• The kids got to experience flying for the first time (all love the flight, all hate the 4 hours in a seat that doesn't recline).
• We saved ourselves at least a week and a half of driving through our least favorite parts of the country (sorry Arkansas!).
• Renting a shiny car in Vegas meant that we didn't have to worry about breaking down in our truck.  Breaking down is not usually a big deal for us because Tom can fix anything.  But it is a little more complicated when breaking down also means the loss of your home. Until we get a new truck...we wanted to take that out of the vacation equation.

 

We headed straight from the airport to my cousin Allan and Trish's house in Riverside, CA where we stayed a few days while we got our camping setup put together.  The kids have been anxious to get there for months to see their cousins Skylar and Evan.   The girls had done a custom grip tape board for Skylar's birthday and they couldn't wait to give it to her.  Once we had our camping setup purchased and packed in the back of the car we headed up to Big Bear.  This little car has to hold all five of our bodies plus all of our necessities (tent, cooler, stove, mattresses, sleeping bags, clothes, food, etc.).  I spend my time in the front seat with clutter under my feet and junk in my lap.  I swore it wouldn't all fit.  I was wrong.  It did.  We found some space in the glove box.

 

Tailing Allan's Chevy van up the mountain became a silent rivalry of coolness.  His 1970's van was significantly more hip than our shiny, new and recently rented sedan.  Even so, our perfectly air-conditioned Altima was a real contender as it provided a notably cooler experience.   But let's be serious.  Based on all the thumbs up that Allan got from total strangers around every bend...he wins. 

 

 

We had the campground mostly to ourselves and settled in for three nights of cherished time.  The camping was mellow and beautiful.  The kids played 1001 rounds of UNO with no signs of stopping.  Allan's groovy little Boston Terrier, Burt Reynolds, was thankfully along for the experience.  I don't think he slept or ate for the first two days as he worried himself to death over us.  Every time a person would set foot out of his view he would become a nervous ball of whimpering energy.  He was clearly not okay with us meandering through the forest like we were.  I think he was exasperated by the fact that we didn't understand the necessity of staying in a pack.  Poor Trish spent every waking moment trying to convince Burt not to make any weak whimpering noises that would tempt the local coyote population.  The hours ticked by, like adorable little bell tolls, with Trish hushing the little guy.  "Sssshhh Burt!  The coyotes are gonna git ya!" 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

So much time in the forest, but naturally, we didn't waste any opportunity to stop at every skate park we passed.  Unstoppable Skyler sported a big beautiful black eye the entire trip.  She rightfully earned that one by, most likely, fracturing her nose at a skate park the day before our adventure.  Her only regret was that she earned that shiner AFTER her school photos had already been taken.  Such a cool kid.  Big Bear ended out with a romp in the lakefront parking lot where Ivy finally let Tom coax her onto a skateboard (thanks Sky!).   Allan and Sky experimented with a little hammock kite skating, which works, but was admittedly a little underwhelming from a spectator standpoint.  Big Bear was a great way to start out our adventure with some of our favorite people on the planet. 

 

 

 

 But... let's be honest.  Despite the ease of flying out and the brand new car, I felt serious nostalgia for our old truck and camper.  I miss the kids sitting at the table in there. I miss rolling into a place at dark,  putting them to bed, and letting the sunrise show us where we spent the night.  And on a serious basic level, I miss its closets and drawers and all that space.  All that sweet, sweet space.   Packing up this little car each day is like Tetris...except suspiciously stinky. Something is starting to smell in there...and we are not sure what it is.  I think it might be us.