The morning after I returned Hermie, we all left Brookings to go to Grants Pass. However, about two miles past the junction to get from Brookings to Grants Pass is Crescent City. And there is a yarn shop in Crescent City. Guess where we went. A Perfect Yarn is a cute, small, well stocked shop. For being such a small shop, they had a pretty great selection of yarn weights, colors, and fiber. I picked up a skein of Ty-Dy Sock in Panama. It seems I'm still a sucker for variegated even though I don't normally like how they knit up. I'm getting better though. This has long repeats, which I much prefer.
As we worked out how to go back northwards to get to the 199 junction, Mum and I noticed a sign for Brother Jonathan cemetery. I love going to old cemeteries. There is so much history, and the stones have such great craftsmanship. This cemetery was a wee bit different than I expected. While there are some stones, it's more of a memorial for those who were lost in the Brother Jonathan tragedy.
There was a large plaque that included the entire passenger list. There was an asterisk next those who survived. Not many made it, which is why the St. George Reef Light was put in. Even the lighthouse was dangerous. Four keepers were killed and many were injured while serving.
As Mum and I were looking at the passenger list, we noticed a particularly interesting entry. Mrs. Jno C. Keenan & 7 ladies of the evening. They didn't make it...
After exploring CrescentCity a touch more we headed north on 199 and passed by a spot marked Botanical Trail. If you are not in the know, this is where you can see the Darlingtonias, or cobra plants. They live in a bog, and they look really cool. This is not the first time I've been here. There is a sign that says don't go off the trail lest you disturb the plants. I have regularly ignored that sign and taken five steps off the trail to get a close up of the plants. This time, however, the ground was a bit more mooshy than I remember.
I got the bogfoot. I also did not get the picture I wanted, but I decided that I didn't care anymore. Mum noted that I was in a remarkably good mood for having gotten my foot muddy. I was informed that when I was younger, it would have spoiled my entire day. (And I'm guessing everyone else's.) This time I was laughing. After relating the story, Mum said, "Well, I guess it's lucky you didn't lose your shoe."
I realize that it doesn't look like my foot went deep in the bog. But my foot went in toe first and sunk the length of my foot into the bog. It was a bit worrisome. Thank goodness it wasn't quicksand.
The rest of the drive was lovely. But I ended up having to wear the only other pair of shoes I brought for the rest of the trip: Sandals. I had rather cold tootsies.