Walla Walla, Washington: Whitman Mission

Sometime during the Spring Gunnar was reading a book about the Oregon Trail. One morning he came into my room with eyes as big as saucers and said "Mama, do you know about this thing called the White Man Massacre?". My eyes got equally as big and stayed that way until I figured out that he was actually asking if I knew about this thing called the Whitman Massacre.  

He was in luck! Not only had I learned all about it from Mr. Heinz in Pacific Northwest History (a high school requirement in Washington), but the Whitman Mission is just a hop, skip, and jump from where John grew up. As a matter of fact, the Cayuse Indians that the Whitmans were hoping to minister to actually belong to the reservation where John grew up.

You can see in this picture where the Whitman Mission is, in what is now Walla Walla, Washington, and the Umatilla Indian Reservation where John grew up. The Umatilla River was John's childhood backyard.

So this morning this guy (who gets more fuzzy every time I turn around) loaded us all up in the car and we headed north to Walla Walla despite the severe weather warning that promised lots of snow in a short period of time and freezing temperatures. 

The site itself did not disappoint. There was well presented history on the Cayuse Indians and other tribes of the area as well as the Oregon Trail and, of course, the Whitmans, their Mission, and their regrettable fate. I was personally impressed that the Whitman information was presented in a way that was unbiased, particularly in the park movie (which was impressively done). One audio snippet we heard ended by saying "it may seem easy to choose one side or the other based on your personal feelings, but the fact is that the Whitman Massacre was the culmination of a complex situation with many influences". I appreciated that as a parent, and a homeschool mom, and a Christian because it became quite clear to me as we looked and read over the history that the massacre was the culmination of a series of misunderstandings, that no matter the moral code or good intentions of either the Whitmans or the Cayuse, pointed back to one thing -- the depravity of mankind.Mr. Heinz, of course, never taught about that, so I was grateful for the opportunity to present that perspective to these little minds. 

Sayer was quick to take off her shoes and make herself at home among the displays of artifacts while we browsed through the museum section of the site. 

 This is Marcus Whitman's Bible. If there was one artifact that I wish I could have gotten my hands on and examined, this is it. Not only because it would have been interesting to see his markings and notes, but because of it's place in American Christianity. 

 Examining photos of the Cayuse. 

Here he is! Chief Peopeomoxmox! (If any of our girls had been a boy, this would have been his name!)

An interesting thing to me about the area where John grew up is how long the families have been established in the area. This photo makes my point. 

In case you're rusty on your Whitman history, five Cayuse Indians were convicted of the murders of Marcus and Narcissa Whitman and 11 white immigrants who were staying with them on their way west (history is unclear on whether all five men were guilty). This man is Sheriff Joseph Meek, who was in charge of their execution. John is good friends with the Meeks who still live near the reservation.

After the museum the big kids and I started working on their Junior Ranger packet. They really loved this part and I was impressed with the material in the packet and the hands on stuff that was available -- like that spindle behind Patton. They both got to use it to spin wool that they had separated. 

It did snow on us a bit while we were there, but "if it's warm enough to snow it's warm enough for outside activities", so it didn't stop us from touring the grounds. Though none of the original buildings are still standing there is a walking tour of the grounds that gives the location and outline of the buildings and other important features of the Mission, like the blacksmith shop, the pond Marcus Whitman built, the grist mill, and the location where the Whitmans daughter, Alice Clarissa, died just before her third birthday. I was interested to learn that Alice, who was born about a year after the Whitmans arrived, was a point of connectivity between the Whitmans and the Cayuse. One audio snippet said that the Cayuse found her intriguing and that many elders and chiefs would visit with her and care for her on a regular basis, even giving her the nickname "Temi" which means Cayuse girl. After she drowned the relationship between the Cayuse and the Whitmans became increasingly strained because of Narcissa's grief and the lack of regular communication.

Also on the grounds is the portion of the Old Oregon Trail that came through the Mission. Standing in the ruts was definitely the highlight for G and P. 

The native word for the area where the Whitmans settled is Waiilatpu. It means "Place of the People of the Rye Grass". Here's the map... 

 ...and here's the valley.

 The Whitman grave site is on top of a hill that overlooks the valley. 

 S is such a trooper.

 The area is beautiful and the grounds were beautifully maintained. For us, the snow added just the right atmosphere to the beautiful walk, but it did hinder the beautiful views I'm told you get from the top of the hill in you come in fair weather. 

After our tour of the grounds the kids completed their quests and we left with our Junior Ranger badges and our passports cancelled. The best thing about it all, if you ask me, is that our mid-week, off season, bad weather visit meant that we got the whole place to ourselves.

It was a good day of learning. We hope you enjoy our pictures and perspective! 

In the Blues

We're back in internet land!

I posted awhile ago on Facebook that we were hanging out on a mountain in Northeastern Oregon in homage to John's favorite childhood memories. Seriously, one of the first stories he told me when we met was about how he was born August 1st and deer season started six weeks later, so he had been hunting in the Blue Mountains his entire life. I wasn't quite sure what I was getting into at that point, but as the years have passed I have noticed that when he talks about hunting in the Blues his voice changes and he smiles in a way that tells me that he is seeing images in his head from decades ago. I love the joy that his memories of hunting with his extended family bring him, and it was so sweet to see how excited he was to do the same thing (spend hunting season -- from rifle buck to second elk -- in the Blue Mountains) with our kids. 

An unexpected 'cold snap' and snow front and Army logistics made it so that we had to leave a few days short of the end of second elk season, but we spent nearly two months camping on Buck Mountain (here's the super shout out to the family who supported us with water and grocery runs, and John's uncle who served faithfully as a full service laundry-doer!).

It was easy to see why John's memories are so sweet. In fair weather the kids had days of running around in the woods with their cousins, entertaining themselves with sticks and dirt and leaves and elusive squirrels. At night they bundled up in the camper while the adult cousins sat around the campfire solving the worlds problems. Gunnar and Patton woke up every morning and went on a squirrel hunt around the camp. P mastered her chipmunk call. G got so much trigger time that I'm pretty sure he can now out shoot most newly graduated basic trainees. More hot dogs and marshmallows were roasted than I care to count and more dirt was washed off these kids than you can imagine. 

When the cousins had to return to work and their normal lives we spent our days schooling and our evenings reading and playing games. The lack of a external schedule and social obligations (and electronics) was such a blessing. We took walks on nice days and naps on rainy days. We took long drives to the places John remembered camping and hunting with his family as a kid. It was amazing, but enough with the words. On with the pictures...

 Cooking breakfast! Rifle buck season started before we were found the camper we wanted, so we loaded up our pop-up camper and drug it up to the mountains. Fitting a family of six in there was quite the experience in making the most of the space you have. Also, this is about a week into our time in the mountains. This may be the last picture in which we'll ever see John's cheeks.

 Morning meeting.

 Queen of the Mountain...

 falls asleep on the 4-wheeler.

 Shooting practice.

 Some days it's tough to be the queen of the mountain. 

 My favorite thing about the spot where we camped was how the morning light came through the trees. So beautiful.

Predictably, we saw A LOT of deer. Also predictably, I never had my camera ready.

 See what I mean about the sun? 

We camped not far from the Whitman Route (in the Whitman-Wallowa National Forest), so we did a unit study and lap book on the Oregon Trail. We read some great books (our favorite was Apples to Oregon, a tall tale on how fruit trees were brought to Oregon. We highly recommend it for Oregon Trail studies.), Gunnar found a new hero in Daniel Boone, and they both loved learning about history that they could reference geographically.

We've also been able to spend time in John's tiny hometown of Athena. This, of course, is always interesting because if I take John somewhere it always takes me twice as long to get anything done because he runs into six people that he hasn't seen since he left for the Army and they'd like a brief overview of what he's been doing for the last 15 years. If I go by myself people who I don't know stare at me oddly because they've seen my picture on Facebook or they recognize the miniature Johns trailing behind me, but they're not quite sure.

Really, though, we love this little community where we run into family randomly everyday, everybody knows everybody, and people look at me oddly when I take my kids somewhere in the middle of a school day.

We have just about two weeks before we load up and head west, so we are taking some local field trips and randomly dropping in on as many people we love as possible. 

Friends, the pictures are going to get serious :)  

Washington: Seattle to Goldendale

It was my intent to keep this blog chronological, but we have been out of internet land for so long that I forgot that I had not posted these pictures of our initial trek across Washington. Better late than never, I suppose!

 So, this is how we all felt when we made it back into the United States, so we decided to slow down our pace a bit and spend a few days in Seattle doing laundry, catching up on a bit of school and Sonic drinks, and John and I cooked up this great idea to take the kids to Century Link Field to tour Seahawks country...

 ...and it was a bust! We kept the trip a secret from the kids until we got to the field and they were so excited! Then the guy told us that they cancelled the tours for that day. So there I am in the pro shop with a seven year old boy crying huge crocodile tears on my Matt Hasselbeck jersey. What's a mom to do? Said boy left the pro shop with a new Russell Wilson jersey and a promise that we would take the tour on our way back to Alaska. 

 Let us in Pete Carroll! 

 On the upside, we did get a peek of Sounders practice (that's our soccer team for you non-northwesterners :)) and I got this cute picture. Pretend like you've never seen it when it shows up on your Christmas card. 

 Obligatory picture in front of Safeco since we were already across the street. Yes, Rogue Scout always makes this face for pictures now. 

 We took a short drive up to Pike's Market, but the day was getting late and we were all feeling tired and deflated so we headed southeast to Goldendale. 

Most of the drive looked like this...

 I know that it probably doesn't seem that exciting, but it was actually really beautiful. I love the golden wheat fields of eastern Washington (and Oregon) that seem to go on forever, especially after a few days in Vancouver, BC and Seattle. The kids thought the giant windmills were awesome and John spent a lot of time answering questions about wind power, which I chalked up to science for about a week or so! 

Anyway, where exactly is Goldendale? Well, it's right here... 

...on the Columbia Gorge across from Biggs, OR. What's that? You've never heard of Biggs either? Well didn't you know...

Okay, enough with the cheesy narration. Seriously, this portion of the Gorge and the high desert is gorgeous. 

 The highlight of Goldendale is the Maryhill Museum of Fine Art, which I completely failed to take a picture of. But, it overlooks the Columbia River and houses wonderful pieces of art from local artists (one who is related to John, which really thrilled the kids), the Romanian Queen Mary (for whom the museum is named) and an impressive Rodin collection.

 The sunshine and breeze on top of the hill were amazing, so we spent a lot of time exploring the grounds, which features lots of sculptures and interesting information about the local area. There was no photography allowed inside the museum, but trust me when I tell you that if you ever find yourself in Goldendale, Washington you must visit the museum. 

They recently added a childrens room where Gunnar and John played chess,

 Patton made a million Rodin inspired aluminum foil sculptures,

and Sayer walked around generally destroying things. 

There's also a winery down the road. Go to the museum first :)

After the museum we headed straight for the reservation and Athena activities, like homecoming at John's high school. 

 And here is a moment that will likely go down in the annals of McBean family history. Patton has never wanted to go to public school, but the moment she discovered that there is something called homecoming and it has princesses, she began to consider the prospect of High School. This may be the moment we lost her. 

(Disclaimer; that is completely sarcastic. The other day John's cousin asked Patton if she was going to go to college and she said "no, my mom said I can only homeschool.")

 RS was cold, so she weasled her way into my sweatshirt. 

Friday night football in our small towns is in the top five things we miss when we are in Alaska, so we were super excited to make it to homecoming. John spent most of the game explaining to people where he's been for the last couple of decades.

We were glad to be home, so we quickly made our way to the mountains.