This year's family vacation took the ten of us back to the warm, high desert and pine trees of Central Oregon. It's not that we didn't enjoy the Oregon Coast last year. In spite of the good weather, it was just too cold and we're a group of Northwest weather wimps. Besides, this house was new, with a view, big enough for three families, had a hot tub, wi-fi and a fire pit. A plus for me in that it was advertised as wheelchair accessible. Perfect!
That's when I realized that some able-bodied people equate 'master suite on the main level' with handicapped access. It's not. Call it a great place, a beautiful home—just don't call it 'accessible'. It
was a lovely house and I'm not a complainer by nature, but the step to the front door and back patio was a big one. Still ambulatory, it was certainly doable with help, but not if I needed a wheelchair. The shower in the master suite was huge, tiled, showroom–worthy, but a death trap for someone with balance issues. Doors in this house caused my impaired mobility to be more evident than usual. I will always remember it as 'the door house'. The doors were big, often opened the wrong way, or obstructed a toilet on entry. I missed our pocket doors at home.
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| The toilet room |
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| Master suite doors |
I'd be the first to admit that my walker has it's own obstructive problems. Even though the "Let's Go Indoor Lightweight Rollator"
is the narrowest 4–point walker on the market, it's still a four–point walker. Everyone could hear me coming. I couldn't go through any doorway quietly, bumping jams and rattling like Jacob Marley's ghost. I had to carefully backup
(keeping the walker and my body perfectly straight) into the toilet cubicle far enough to clear and close the door, then gauge the safe completion of the trip by my heels grazing the toilet, and use the walker as a grab bar to safely sit and get up. Run–on sentence? It felt like a run–on process all day and all night
(in the dark).
Enough with the whining—it
was a fun vacation. One of the best features was being able to scoot and bike right out of the garage onto a lightly traveled road or a bike path. We had missed that on the coast and now biking was not only feasible, but didn't require a car. At a top speed of 4 MPH, Skeeter couldn't keep up with bikers. However, my trike could and, from my designated rear position, I enjoyed biking as much as the grand children. I may have a couple of years before bicycling with growing grand children becomes an endurance event.
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| The bike group |
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| Where are the fish? |
There was a small lake where the grand children could cast their lines and experience the zen of peaceful catch and release fishing. Later you could rent canoes and paddle the clear waters. Did I say 'children', 'zen', and 'peaceful' in the same sentence? Fishing and canoeing were clearly not entertaining enough and the experiences lasted about ten minutes.
What vacation in Central Oregon doesn't include a horseback ride? That, along with the hot tub, were my traditional 'opt out' activities. The older girls graduated from the pony ride to full–sized horses and a guided trail ride. The two youngest grand children moved into the pony ride slot. Earl and Jason went for a challenging bike ride. I took a nap.
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| Move 'em out |
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| Really? |
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| On top of Paulina Peak |
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Paulina Lake formed in
Newberry crater |
It's hard to beat the beauty of Central Oregon. Jason and Earl took the two oldest kids on a hike. At ten and eight, Sarah and Zoe could tackle the climb up the Newberry Crater without getting tired, crying, or falling off the path. I think that may be why they left me at home.
In addition to biking, riding, fishing, and hiking, there was an activity that did hold
their attention, entertained them indefinitely, and actually included all six
adults—
iDevicing. Jason thought about taking a picture of the whole group
plugged in, but it was just too embarrassing a tableau. The grand children were accommodating however, and it ended up being the best photo opportunity. They didn't even care that they were being photographed. There were six
iPhones, two iPods, four iPads, two laptops, one digital game player and
ten humans. When I say the kids were "accommodating", I mean photography. The challenge was limiting children's contact time without a
full–scale mutiny. Regarding devices, some parents wouldn't describe the activity in positive terms or look back fondly on the importance of iDevices on a trip. While
occupying them, it was also a major source of contention. Earl and I, the biggest offenders, could sneak away
to our room with our devices and leave the parents to deal with the
fallout.
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| Competing siblings |
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| Is it my turn now? |
I think this trip helped solidify in our minds, the ideal vacation for three families. It's not easy to insure an enjoyable time for all that doesn't involve adult tears. We need a big house, adequate bathrooms, warm weather, biking, bandwidth, and
reasonable access.
We came home five days later to unseasonably hot weather. Each of the kids reported the temperature of their homes on return. Earl and I smugly responded that not only was our first floor cool and comfortable, but we didn't care how warm the second floor was. We didn't have to go up there. Then we noticed it getting suspiciously warm in the house. Earl tried some basic troubleshooting, but the verdict was
no air conditioning. Naturally, the company that had installed the system in February couldn't come for two days. Oh, well...
The lesson: Master on the main level. Nice, but what else have you got?
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