Finding the PX Ranch and Saying Hello/Goodbye - An Adventure That Begins and Ends with Dreams

This weekend had a somber purpose - to attend the memorial service of an old friend of Mark's at Southern Oregon University. She had been a professor there, Wilkins O'Riley Zinn by name, and the developer of collectory's and being Zinnified, and her 'somber' service was called a 'Sillybration' because it was dotted, literally, with polka dots and brilliantly colored artwork, which she had created. Attendees wore bright ties and sparkly headwear and purple plush hats ,and animal crackers were on every table for munchies during the service. Tears, yes. Laughter, lots. Anguish, plenty. Joy, immeasurable. She could never imagine the difference she had made in so many lives. Amidst all the funny stories and all the sweet memories, the one that stood out for me the most (outside of Mark's which made me cry because he said 'I was her first student - in life'); more than her son who wept frequently over the loss of his best friend; more than the colleagues who will miss her zest and inspiration; even more than her husband who has lost his soulmate of 38 years - most was the young woman who spoke last. She spoke of Z as the person who influenced her 'to move forward confidently in the direction of your dreams', (I borrow from the Desiderata, but it completely fits); who told her to write her Master's dissertation because she knew that Z would read it; who connected with her intellectually and emotionally and mentally - not on a lighthearted level at all. In all the flit and float, there was a serious grounding - a touchpoint that mattered and changed a life, immensely giving permission to BE and to DO. That moved me more than I could breathe. I so wish I had known this remarkable woman. Godspeed, Z. You inspire me.

And then---my husband and I got to have a weekend away. We had spent the night on Friday in Grants Pass in a dive-ish sort of motel called the Sweet Breeze. Not so sweet! Some people don't really be honest on travel sites, just so ya know. It was doable for one night, but one night was it! Anyhow, we hit the road early to head to Ashland for the services and meandered on our way there. Took some back roads and tried to go to the House of Mystery/ Oregon Vortex, but didn't have enough time for the tour. I was SO looking forward to shrinking for a while, but unlike Alice inWowland, couldn't muster it up on this trip.  Because my sweet husband, who in his haste to leave on Friday afternoon, forgot his dress clothes.... we made a quick couple of stops to purchase a spiffy new set of appropriate clothes for him on the way and then headed to Ashland.

Ashland delights me. I'm sensitive to the ambiance of towns, and also the temperature of towns, and the tidyness level. I.e.~ Victoria Canada wins a good prize. Most of Nevada does not.  I find Ashland to be especially pretty, albeit it only gets a b- because it's pretty toasty there.

As we headed East, we chose to drive the Ashland - KFalls highway which is twisty to say the least. I have now created a new verse to the "Long and Winding Road" for the Beatles. It is the 'Narrow Winding Road'~, but that's for later.  Anyhow the highway was breathtaking in more ways than one. First, because the sun was lowering in the western sky sending amber light to create an afternoon golden glow over the very steep mountains upon which the highway barely ekes out a perch. Barely. On the steep sides of high mountains. Clings. The pictures do not do the steeeeeeepness justice at all! And just because there's a guard rail in one of these pictures, do not think that there were guard rails on the whole road, because there were not. And I was in the passenger's side looking over the edge trying not to swallow my tongue in panic!

 

 

There was this one spot where the road had broken off and they patched it, but then painted the patched spots so us weary travellers could freak out thinking that it would break again as we drove over it. Or not. But it was kind of scary.

 

 

So, whew! We made it past the twisty freaky parts of this incredibly gorgeous drive and there was a light shining on the top of a hillside, beckoning us to stop for succor. And so we did. And it brought back great memories of my youth!

 

No Annie's in sight, but it truly was a nice place for nacho's and a beer.

 

And as we left, our personal fareweller, Bambi, came out onto the road to say 'Farewell, weary traveller!' into the glaring headlights.

 

Moving on, we drove through the beautiful night and country on to Klamath Falls, where we spent the night in a lovely motel, the Cimarron. Loved it. Clean and nice, except for no coffee cups, easily remedied fix... Up and out the door early this morning on our quest.

 

The Quest:

To find the ranch my father and his brothers owned in the 60s and 70s, which I had not visited for a long long long time. All I recall is driving to Beatty and eventually turning left over a slight rise and then dropping down into the yard. Mark had called my brother who spent summers there as a teenager and got some directions, but in the midst of hubbub couldn't quite recall all the road names, so we did some extra driving. We ended up in Bly and didn't mind at all. Bly is kind of charming, in a very remote kind of way, with a couple of little markets and even two or three antique stores. (Much to my dismay, they weren't open today!)

 

This is the sweet little Forest Service Building in Bly.

And this is in the city park. Awesome!

So, we weren't supposed to have gone as far as Bly, and we turned around to head back to Beatty.

I love the lines and circles~


We had were loving everything we saw and I was snapping pictures as fast as I could, and then.... there was this. I happen to really love green. This made me teary.

 

 

 

And on yet another lonesome gravel road, there was a burst of color~

 

A kaleidoscope of brush in bloom~ a gift. Such beauty, which in the eye of this beholder, was indeed considered so.

We realized we needed to try another tack, not sailing but turning, so we turned left on Drews Road. And there it was, just over a rise, on the left just where we'd left it.

 

The view from the PX Ranch across the Sycan Valley~

 

The PX Ranch, for Plemons 10 - a legacy of unfinished dreams during which we can smell the sage and juniper and cows and freshcut alfalfa. Why we love boots and sometimes good country music and being a little rough around the citified edges and why we are... because it's okay to remember the days when our father really was a cowboy, and so were my brothers. Remembering the smoke of the branding iron fires and the bawl of the freshly branded calves who wore the PX; remembering my uncle's white cowboy hat and plaid cowboy shirts with Marlboro's (for reals) rolled up in his sleeves. My Uncle Gene was a quintessential cowboy, handsome and sunburnt and tough as nails, but never too tough to tease with a niece who thought he was about the neatest guy ever. My Uncle Wally was a big man, another cowboy through and through, but far more gentle around impressionable little girls.

My big brother Doug had a horse named Rip who wouldn't be gentled and had to be broke over and over again. My brother Steve, a quieter sort of cowboy, made everyone's day lighter as he joked his way through the work on a ranch; hard work for a young teenager. Turns out he and Doug both had terrible grass allergies but they bucked hay for several a summer.

We are who we are, in part because of the men who owned this place. My brothers, my cousins and me because our fathers put themselves and their sweat into being their dream, not just saying they had one.

As I write this, I am struggling. How brave they were. What a chance they all took. The year the river flooded at Christmas and threatened to take it all, they left families at home and went to the ranch working  days to save everything to keep this alive.

I never understood until just now.  They were their dream, and I got to be a part of it. I owned a part of the Plemons Ten. For the example of my dad and my uncles, all gone now, I am grateful.  I hope my brother Doug and my cousins - Judy, Wally, Roger, Concha, Lupe, Will and Amy, and I will always remember to be the dream they have and 'to move forward confidently in the direction of your dreams', as our fathers did before us.  

The view from the PX Ranch.