Last leg of the journey...

Just off of Sprague Lake, about 1/2 an hour out of Spokane.

 The trip home was mostly uneventful, but gorgeous; pun intended.  I was slightly disappointed that you just can't get very good pictures of Sprague Lake from the upper rest area, and there really is no other way to get to it from Westbound I-90.  I did my best, anyway, and I will admit that there is at least one I took while we were going about 80 MPH, but good lord, that water was sparkly! 

On this trip, I found some weird stuff, some pretty stuff, and photo ops for the childrenz.  The gorge is gorgeous, naturally, but I also discovered that even out in the middle of nowhere, we are not immune to graffiti.  You can live... really... anywhere.  It's still gonna happen.

Full-Disclosure photography.  Shot out of the windshield, while we were traveling at about 80 MPH.  Ah, well...

Military Train.

Farmland...

Graffitti Hut!!

Feedlot.  The kids' response: "EWWW!"

What I could see of Sprague Lake from the upper rest area.  Sad, because this lake is vast.  Next time, I will stop when we are headed in the other direction.  It's a lovely lake.

Columbia River Gorge, from Arlington.  I had to climb past the retaining wall to get these shots.  Shhh!!

Ru chose to be a ham, here.  I could not get a serious look out of this girl, for anything.

Nope.  Nice try, Ma.  Not gonna happen.

To Dream... The Impossible Dream...

There's that ham, again...

Miss Lily, on the retaining wall.

Waitt's Lake... oh, we were on the beach. We were the ONLY ones on the beach.

Yes, it was quite cold at Waitt's Lake, on Saturday, when we ventured out.  Mr. Hed lived on this lake from the time he was a wee bairn, until they moved to the farm house, where he spent most of his childhood.  But for the first few years, he lived here.  It looks like a sweet little resort community, and I am sort of jealous.  Snow in the winter, with a frozen lake for skating, and a lovely place to swim and fish in the summer?  What could be better? 

I remember Christmases in which I would go swimming in our backyard pool, and summer where I grew up was so ridiculously hot, my dad used tin foil on all of the windows.  And don't get me started on the winds, and the fires, in fall.  I don't think I knew what spring was, until I moved to Oregon.  So yeah, I'm a bit jealous of this whole thing.  You'll see why, in a sec.  Bear with me.  There are a LOT of pictures, but there was a LOT of interesting stuff to photograph.

There was still ice on the lake, and I admit to geeking out a little on that stuff.  The geese you see in the photos below, are walking on the ice.

Enjoy!

In his old digs.  He lived here from 1976-1979.

View of lake.

Ice does interesting things to sand.

These geese are walking on the still partially frozen lake.

The ice was so sparkly!

Out on a dock.  This dock was a little scary to walk on, because it was missing a few pontoons, so it would really move a lot in a few places.  I just kept going over it, saying:  "Like you fucking own it!"  It seemed to help.

Where the ice began.

Rock that we threw onto the surface of the ice.  It just sort of bounced around.

As did this one.

Skipping on the dock.

 

I thought this melt pattern was interesting.  I wonder what caused that?

Buoys in the ice.

Bubbles in the ice.

I know... I totally geeked out over this, but if you read the earlier paragraphs, you understand I've never actually seen a frozen lake before.

Peacocks are devil hooligan birds; only out for a good time, and possibly a joyride. An altercation, caught on film...

BILL!  BILL!  BILL!  HAHAHAHAHA!  WAKE UP, BITCH, IT'S TIME TO RUMBLE!

Cedric, I don't know.  She looks a little scary, and kind of like a loose cannon.

Belinda, you can totally take her.  And she's in a bathrobe and a pair of cowboy boots.  In this frost?  She's gonna fall on her ass, and look a damn fool before she catches us.

Lada-dee-lada-daaaa... you can't catch me, bitch...

OK fine, maybe I can't... so much... in these leather boots, in the frost.  Owww, my ass!

Oh my god, I want to eat that bird.  Mom, catch that bird!  I have to eat that bird!

Hey, robe lady... I'd like to see you try, out here!

Cedric...

OK, fine. You are the damn loudest bitch I've met in a while.  You can have your lawn.

Here I go...

...sort of...

You win... this time.