Back, back in good ol’ BC …
Brand spanking new terminal building …
It’s a Samoan pub !
Stopped by Eureka Muni just because I could. The Samoa Dunes Park is a favorite with the local ATV crowd.
I’m guessing the airport dates back to the WWII just after Pearl Harbor when the fear of a Japanese invasion was at its height. According to the local park signage, Japanese submarines would show up once in a while and take pot-shots at local shipping. Balloons and flying boats would be dispatched to drop bombs on them and the locals would comb the beaches for washed up Japanese “memorabilia”. The concrete ammunition bunkers are still to be seen along the dunes.
The Oregon coastline has a quite different character to California’s – somehow more blasted and bleak.
Long trip home …
The RER train crashed at Stade de France, fortunately we weren’t on it. So we were running around like headless chickens trying to find a taxi to CDG. We got there in the nick of time to catch our first flight to LHR. Our flight to SFO sat at the gate for 45 minutes then taxied to a “quiet spot on the field” and sat for another hour and 15 minutes with the engines shut down. We were waiting for our “slot” in the volcano ash avoidance route, which took us up past Norway and then all around to the north of Iceland and finally across the top of Canada and down the west side of the US. Total bum-in-seat time of about 13 hours. But hey, we got home, where it’s always good to be …
All hail !!
Disclaimer: The handful of times I’ve whooped it up at Queen over the past 2 decades it has left a lot to be desired … and I hear it’s pretty much a straight joint these days. We have been assimilated … oh well.
