Oregon to Florida

I had one commitment to keep since deciding to do this trip. My family had planned a vacation to Florida eons ago so I had to make sure to keep that priority. This means that I caught a plane from Portland to Pittsburgh to Florida to unwind with some beach time. Life is hard.

I've got another front runner for final destination: Portland, Oregon. Something just clicks for me there. Probably it has to do with the fact that I wouldn't know the first thing about living in a city that has sunshine for more than 50 days out of the year. Having sunny day after sunny day would so cut into my nap time. And the kicker about Portland is that I truly don't believe there is a city that is in a better location -- mountains to one side; ocean to the other.

My visit to Portland was accentuated with some good ol' hospitality. A friend of mine opened her house to me and took me in like I was family while I was there. I had no idea that a gesture like this would rock my world like it has. This has made me vow that wherever I end up, I am going to have a major set-up for any and all guests. Hold me to this. And after some friends were kind enough to make sure I saw all of the necessary sights of Puddletown, USA, I am also vowing to always offer my services for any sight-seeing that may need to be done.

Portland did mark a bit of a turning point for me with this trip. I had planned pretty extensively my routes and activities up until Portland but passed there, I haven't given much thought. Obviously the next step is to go down the west coast, but I think what is really concerning me is I think I'm on the down-swing of my trip. Thus far, I've been journeying away from reality. I've been moving away from all of those adult things that I need be doing, like getting a job and an apartment and starting to be a contributing member of society again. But now its time to circle around and to begin thinking realistically. Say its not so.

The Oregon coast:

My workspace in Astoria, Oregon:

Pay it forward

I've been having a nagging feeling that I need to do a blog post on how I got here. Here, as in, on this trip. You know when you stay at home on a Saturday, just watching TV and then you ask a friend what they did that day and they're all like "I got up this morning at 6, cleaned my entire house, ran 10 miles, saved a puppy from drowning and talked someone down from jumping off a bridge" and then you feel really useless in comparison. Its happened to me many times and I tend to walk away hating that friend. I have this worry that I'm that annoying friend -- posting on this blog, putting up pretty pictures and acting like this is just how I live, flying by the seat of my pants.

The truth is that this whole expedition is very out of the ordinary for me. I hate change. I find immense comfort in having my own space in the form of an apartment and spending lots of time watching ridiculous TV shows and surfing the web. I like to do something on a Monday and know that I will be doing the exact same thing the next Monday and the Monday after that, etc. There was a time when I went years without going outside of the state of Pennsylvania.

Long story relatively short, in the spring I started to have fun with just the thought of an extended road trip. In my free time I mapped out where I would go if I could. Then I talked obsessively about it with friends and everytime I'd bring it up they would say I should do it. It got to the point where I'd talked about it so much that I either had to truly do it or just let the idea go.

I did a whole process of listing everything that could go possibly wrong if I did the trip. Then I came up with possible solutions for those problems. I have a feeling that my mind was already made up at this point, but I did the list as a way to get realistic and to make sure I had thought of everything. My big obstacle was giving up a job that I really enjoyed. I realized though that I would always have a reason to not do the trip because of something. There had to be some sacrifices, and, if the job had to go, then I guess I just had to let it go and lead the tough life of unstructured days and lots of free time. Someone has to do it.

Months ago I read about a friend going to Brazil to follow a passion of his. I was down on myself that I didn't do such things, but, luckily, turned it around and asked myself what I would do to live life a little fuller. I hope this is a "pass it forward" type of influence. I'm debating whether I should end this post with some sort of joke to lighten the mood and not sound so "Go forth, and live your dreams!" but I'll leave it as it is.

Here are some pics from my week in the Olympic Peninsula:

Mt. Rainier:

Hurricane Ridge:

Trail to Cape Flattery:

Hoh Rainforest:

The continuing adventures of the Rivers ladies: Seattle

If you ever need a stellar travel partner, you will find none other than my mom. I might consider letting you borrow her for a trip but don't take the opportunity lightly. You will be hitting up the town with a woman that, by the time you get to the destination, will be able to give a dissertation on all local customs, history and etiquette, and be able to throw in an essay or two on what not to wear. When she gets the idea of going to a city where she has never been before, while that idea is still just a kernel of a possibility, she will begin making a library of every book that could possibly help her get a foothold on the in-the-know. (She went to Italy once and we still have the two full bookshelves of research materials as evidence.)

As side-wheel to this traveler, its pretty much a vacation dream. I go on auto-pilot and let her call the shots and find myself eating some of the best gosh-dang food of my life and see shows that I never would have thought to check out in the first place and come back from a trip and am able to answer "Yes, I did" to any question that involves "Did you see...?" And, as a loving mother, she has mercy on me. For each of the afternoons I took my own siesta (did I mention I love naps?) back at the hotel, regained my energy and rejoined her conquests for the evening.

So mark up Seattle as another successful venture, adding it to the list of NYC and Chicago, and if I have my druthers, to the future visit of Santa Fe.

What makes me especially grateful for my mom's companionship is that I've entered the Pacific Northwest region in a bit of a funk. This area feels so heavy. Its the best way that I can describe it. I have to say, when I entered the Rocky Mountain area of the states, I went through a period of adjustment. I felt out-of-place and a bit lonely. Mother Nature wasn't really opening her arms to me, with all of those jagged ravines and stand-offish pine trees. Now, I have hit the Pacific Ocean and I'm getting that feeling again. It feels very alienating and, although everything is so lush and green, it kind-of makes me feel like the earth and ocean and rain just want to swallow me up. The good news is that I eventually got used to the mountains and started to feel at home and, most likely, the same will happen here.

And this area of the states makes me have the same feeling that I get when its the Autumn season in Pittsburgh. I love this season. I love the air getting cooler and the sky getting darker. It makes me listen to more Elliott Smith and Leonard Cohen and makes me want to take more long walks but it gives me this sweet melancholy feeling that is not good for my moods but I just can't help sinking into it. I've never been able to figure out its pull. And the heavy Northwest makes the mood even more irresistible. We'll see how this goes.

Quickly, on to the specifics of my travels: After Seattle, I spent two days on the San Juan Islands. Those are the little chunks of land that are floating off the coast where it looks like someone has taken a bite out of the state of Washington. (Who says I don't have a knack for travel descriptions?) I had to become fluent in reading ferry schedules in order to get on/off/between the islands. I have surprised myself that I managed to make it back to the mainland. I spent a night on the main island at a hostel (at a place where I never even saw the owners, I just picked up my keys, left my money and then spent the night in a house with two other people that were guests. Bizarre experience.) Yesterday I went to Orcas Island to the Moran State Park and did a three mile hike around Cascade Lake. I felt comfortable to do the hike on my own because: a) no bears or moose have managed to ferry themselves across to those islands and any other critter that I would've run into would have been little challenge for me and my pepper spray and b) if I hike around a lake, I can just hug the coast and trust that I will eventually end up where I started. Famous last words.

I'm back on the mainland in Mt. Vernon, Washington. Its a reorganizing day before I do a week and a half tour of the Olympic Peninsula and then end up in Portland. Oh, and a heads-up, I'll be back in the 'burgh November 1st through the 6th. Although, if you would like to hang out, you'll have to cart my butt around being that my car will still be parked on the west coast.

View of the San Juan Islands from the top of Mt. Constitution (Orcas Island):

Hiking around Cascade Lake, Moran State Park:

The life of a rock star

I promise I haven't forgot about you. You are always on my mind. Update the blog, update the blog, update the blog. But, you know, it can be so exhausting living like a rock star: the nameless cities, the unending road, the sex and drugs and women (just kidding about the final three, Dad.) My true reality is that I eat breakfast at diners with swarms of septuagenarians, I spend my days either driving listening to educational podcasts or I sit people-watching and reading , then end my day heading to bed at the ripe hour of 9 or 10. I spend more the life of a grandmother then of a rock star.

I'm in Wenatchee, Washington, right now. The Apple Capital of the World. You know of it, right? I'm spending some days in random cities between Boise and Seattle; trying to get the feel of eastern Oregon and Washington. Its my first time in both states and I'm zig-zagging my way through, trying to see as much as possible.

From Coeur D'Alene I drove down the western border of Idaho. I'll call Idaho the Crying State. I listened to all of my Josh Ritter songs in alphabetical order for five hours. The crying occured because of the sequence that: Josh Ritter is from Idaho and his sad folk songs needed a good listening to in order to enjoy the state --> Josh Ritter is my friend, Sara's, fav singer (or her self-united husband, if you happen to read thatschurch.com, which, if you are from Pittsburgh, you really should) --> Sara is one of my prime partners in crime and is the Laverne to my Shirley (or the Myrna Minkoff to my Ignatius Reilly, if you've read "A Confederacy of Dunces", which, if you are a breathing human being, you really should) --> Sara has moved to Boston as of August and we now are separated by many states for the first time in years. Thus, the tears. But they were needed.

I stayed a night in Riggins, Idaho. It was a spontaneous stop. I got tired to driving, found myself in a cute town in the middle of the mountains that had one hotel, and decided to spend the night. I checked the Riggins website to find something to do to pass the evening and found a recommended scenic drive to the top of Hell's Canyon to look at the Seven Devils (a range of mountains.) Long story short, the road to the top turned gravel within five miles and continued that way for another fifteen. I knew I should have turned around but got stuck in the mindset of "I've made it this far...". I ended up ascending 6,000 feet at a rate of 25 miles an hour, only to turn around when I almost got to the top because I started to fear a serial killer was going to be the only person there when I got to the lookout. This is the best picture I got:

I passed many cows on the road, getting close enough to almost get their flies in my car. I obviously have no fears of pulling up close to a cow, and would find it very ironic if, after my chronic fear of bears, a "cute" cow charged my car, and when I got out of my car, invited her friends over for a good maiming.

So, my car went through the abuse of a fifteen mile, straight up-hill and then straight down-hill road, only to get a semi-decent picture, the view of a cow and me cursing the website that ever suggested I try that route.

Boise treated me well. Again, it offered a many-mile paved walking path that connects the various parks around the city. I'm really digging the walker-friendliness of Idaho. I went to a recommended diner, the Flying M, and restrained myself from buying everything in their eclectic gift shop. And I visited their Basque Cultural Museum after finding that Boise is a hub for immigrants from the Basque region and found it an interesting culture to know more about.

I came to Wenatchee by way of Bend, Oregon and was extremely impressed with the homey feel of Bend. Its a much recommended visit. And today I will see the Pacific Ocean for the first time on my trip. I'll be staying in Ferndale, Washington, right below the Canadian border. Then, its off to Seattle to be reunited with my mom for a 5 day visit. I'm counting down the hours.

Random pic of a shoe tree somewhere in Eastern Oregon: