Beating Tito

Again it's the trees that show the layout at the WWII POW Camp.



Old Gate



Mess-hall









The hall is buttoned up tight with old olive drab, WW II issue bunks nailed to the insides of doors and windows.



Dry ride home.

I am enjoying the history lesson of where I have lived my whole life. I spent over half my life about 4 miles from Cow Hollow.

Great thread! Although every time I see the title, I think you are beating up a member of the Jackson Five.
oser

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tito_Jackson

PapaYolk, I rate this metaljockey, great thread, good luck!

If anybody wins it's because Tito let them win.!

Dang! That takes a lot of anticipation out of your ride report.

Boy, I've ridden on Cow Hollow and through Nyssa so many times and never new the history of the CCC/Internment Camp or the POW Camp. How interesting. I'm glad I decided to follow this thread. It's way more than just beating Tito! Thanks for sharing.

More great pics, I had to open the map program and try and figure out all the places you have been going.

Off to get gas in Nyssa. Wind and rain leavin the house..



My wife runs the budget. She rides the "card" close to drawn and it's only good for about a tank's worth. So she knows if I splurg for a burger and brew, knows before I get home, because shes always with her new BFF, Sam, (Samsong) or standby Ken (Kendall). But granddad's old co-op account gets billed once a month and no self serve in OR., just ride in and they put it on the account. Don't even have to swipe a card.



Off to Vale.





I work up over the highland between the valleys of the Snake and Malheur. It's cool and windy and with a roll of the head through a turn I see the whole encirclement by mountains, close and across-the-valley far, that feed the rivers that join the Snake here.





I pick up the Oregon Trail a few miles north of Cow Hollow. It climbs slow dusty scrub to Kenny Pass then down to the Malheur at Vale.



At the last rocky slope before the river, at the toe, lies Jon D Hinderson, along the trail where he breathed his last. Remembered because it was etched in stone, 1853.





At Vale, the stone stronghold with a once thick sod roof to withstand a casual burning by the hands or arrows of hostiles.









In 1872 Kenny's way-stop was cornered by Rineharts Inn.



With the advent of rail one could fetch a Sears house like this: pre-cut lumber, fixtures, hardware, and kegs of nail, mail-order catalog shipped and dropped at the station.



A puddle was much deeper than it looked along here, topped my boots and filled them with cold muddy water.

Following along. Like TheAdmiral said, Lots of stuff in the thread, not just about beating Tito. Still, you've got a fan club. Go, go PapaYolk!

My Grandpa Tony, thick Czech accent and wide Slavic smile, set bouncing beside me on the way to Vale. Forbidden Planet was Playing at the REX. My first trip to the movies. I was five or six.





Scared the shit out of me. Huge room of chattering strangers-- then the lights go out. Then a freaking invisible monster's footprints advance until bang, outlined by the electrics of a force field, standing 12 feet tall right there in front of me... I was screaming, headed for the doors when Toni caught me, pulled me back.



Malheur Butte Dominates the valley and was a vantage point for Indians watching for travelers on the Oregon Trail.



This is an ancient volcano, 10 x older than the vents and cinder cones common to this area. It was preserved under the silt of Lake Idaho then re-exposed as river cuts meandered the valley. The magma that last pushed toward vent dried slow and hard in the little volcano's gullet.




Water from the Owyhee Lake main canal flows down across the valley to more highland ditch that greens the Snake's valley to the north.

Nice day for speeding down the back-roads and catching the view.







Greasiest excuse of a taco in the land of fast food. Jack-in-the-box, two for a buck. The Box in Nampa is dark and has a toasty fire. It used to serve beer.

Always enjoy your stuff Papa Yolk!

P.S. This is the second Day Trip where I've seen a shepherd's camp in the past three weeks; the other was in West Virginia.

In.

Little frost on the pumpkin. Off south this morning, to the end of Poison Creek Rd near Jump Creek.



Sears Barn.






Poison Creek Stage Station

This morning it's about 29 out, but the wind's down a lot. No excuse needed to ride today. It's Sunday and B Brown gave the law, back in '72, "...Ride) On Any Sunday." It's getting light. I like riding in the dark. My first zero-miles bike rolled out the shop door on a Friday, after school. "Keep it under 30 the first hundred miles and the transfer case in high", the man said. 1968 CT 90. Put the hundred on that warm night riding out through the orange groves. In the dark behind the small 6v lighted patch on road, fence-posts and trees, it could have be anywhere. I still daydream at night, in fog, that I am anywhere.




Road out to Cove, west, up the Malhuer. Not much left of Cove. The highway went down the other side of the river, then they pulled out the train tracks through town. Nice riding up around Bully Creek, and along Little Valley RD.







My point and shoot is crap when trying to catch a bald eagle fishing the Malhuer.










I give you, Cove.









Eh.

"Look's like 550 miles. See you in two weeks."

A CT90 is where I started too, in '66 on the family farm. The old man got it for the farm and the odd run into town. That transfer case was handy..... but I guess few here would know what you are on about!

Actually, I haven't moved on much. My present ride is a more recent incarnation of the Cub, a 1997 Honda Dream (100 cc, with 208,000 km on the odometer). Living on an island 50 km long by 20 km wide, it is all the bike I need for now.

Keep it coming, Papa...... enjoying the pictures and the comments.

My computer's been down. Using Babe's tiny HP is hard on my old eye's, can't see the keys to hunt and peck properly. Also, the images are washed, so I get my unit back on line and see that most the pic's I posted are saturation fried. To go back and fix them all would be the shits, so just squint or imagine you've sipped some of Swamp's eye drops and are peeking.

Hey, Aj. It's a pity the best selling bike in the world is not available here in the States. Met a fellow in Twin Falls that got a hold of a Cub, badged it “Moped” and has ridden it for years, sans plates, and never been called out on it. Bullet proof little buggers. Honda started selling little push-rod step-throughs here and noted the highest sales to population average was in backwoods Idaho. As it was a bike designed for urban use, they sent a sales rep to investigate. He found we Bubbas were scrapping the front finders, adding large back sprockets and using them for things like reaching high trout lakes or hauling out elk quarters (Yum... elk). Two years latter they introduced the first CT trail-bike to the US market. When they added an overhead cam, then transfer case to replace the task of adding a length of chain and pulling out the larger trail sprocket, they had a winner. The same smog regulations that killed the importation of Cubs also killed the CT110.

Idaho CT-90 (my '68)



Today's post brought to you by, hops.



...and cubs.

Peppering of wet snow melting on the fields, cloudy, no wind. Riding south, up the Snake, Chicken Dinner Rd. to Map Rock Rd., after breakfast.

That men have wintered here in this valley, at least 10'000 years, is written in petroglyph on Map Rock.

Loving this and I also started ut on a CT90 a hundred years ago

Tito is a good man and I know from his comments on the TS3 site he is loving the move from VT.

Thanks for taking us along.