Here it is. Staples Road. Gravel. Washboard on some sections. Love the washboard effect. Vibrates the whole vehicle into a shuddering stuttering.
It vibrated the two knobs off the old car radio. That’s funny. Plunk plunk and the stupid knobs are off rolling around on the floorboards.
What a couple of knobs. After fumbling around with the knobs for a minute we decide to put them back on when we get to the top. The car is a white Oldsmobile. We’re not superstitious. It just happened that we owned three vehicles in succession that were white.
It’s somewhere up here. That’s what we’ve heard but we’re worried because we’re rookies. Where is it? This road is like something out of “Thunder Road”. That was a popular song in some markets years ago. There was a movie too, but I doubt there’s much moonshine running on this thoroughfare. Finally the sky starts breaking through the trees. Daylight! We’re saved!
Nothing can prepare you so we don’t buy anything and pull up and stop on a dusty patch of ground because it’s a dry and warm day, no clouds. Kind of like one of those pristinely perfect July afternoons in the sunbelt and we don’t know what to do.
It was quite good, the view. Vistavision. It was so good we’d never see anything like it again unless we came back. It’s like when you’re looking for a specific image, a picture, and you know it’s somewhere but you can’t locate it. You can’t find it in any file and it’s frustrating. Where is it? It’s right here.
The name of this place is another story so we’re not getting into that either. Except I didn’t know Warburton Pike went to Balliol. I could have swore it was Magdalen. And that he ended his days in Bournemouth. Poor man. It’s a nice little seaside town with rather too many Britishers hanging about.
You don’t know what to do now that you’re on top. You kind of stand around and make strange faces at your companion’s camera. It’s a childish thing to do so let’s be childish. There was some big fallen timber just down the slope in those days so we played on them for awhile. The last time I was up they seemed to have long since faded away. That’s time in action right there.
The aptly named “Brown Ridge”. We love it when they get our name right. We’ve got a lot of family on that ridge. Ridges make for excellent burrows. I remember having a gas at a few parties down there. This was all racing through my head as I was looking south.
It was way south. It looked like a pink barnacle growing on the land through binoculars from 150 miles. 240 or so kilometres if you like. Turned out that’s exactly what it was. Mount Rainier. She of the fabled peaks. I was worried somebody’d find out about this. Did anybody know Mount Rainier was down there? What happens when they realize?
It’s magnificent up here and we know it can get wild in winter. Clouds move in and say goodbye to your barbecue cover when the wind comes up. It’s a special day when there’s not a cloud and it’s dead calm. We could see the back pastures below the ridge and we knew those pastures because we’d walked through them with the owner’s encouragement to take the overland route to Taylor Point. Reminded me of trekking in Nepal. Of course it did.
There was a small brick block structure near the mysterious metal tower and there were a lot of Swifts nesting in there and flitting in and out of the building. Swifts seemed more plentiful then but they’re still around.
Why is it called Staples Road? Some people worked very hard to put in this road to the top so we put another $20 in the envelope. Good job. We appreciate it.