Post Script Upper

This was in my mailbox this afternoon in a tiny envelope, contents intact, including cash. Like I said before, there are good people everywhere.....

Landing

Here's Brent conjuring the very last of the absinthe, which we absconded with out of Oregon, and even with copious sharing had the decency to stretch until the home stretch. It looks as if he's having success with the gods of self-destructive poets and tireless adventurers. This was our final ritual after returning home from the western slopes. What a trip. Like, literally.

This morning, I took the boys out for a long walk. Beautiful, crisp fall morning (as "they" say and say and say ad nauseum but it's still true) and everyone was excited to take the upper prairie-down-through-the-forest-to-forest-path route. Jack had, clearly, been eating corn from the recent harvest, exhibited in his frequent, stinky trail deposits. At least they are not being left in the house. Half way down the trail, the dudes got amped and looking towards the lower prairie, I saw an eight point buck high tailing it through the grasses at full speed. They dogs took off; Rocky and Romeo came back in short order but Mighty Jack was not seen for awhile. He should be president. He never gives up or is influenced by lobbyists. We flushed out a few turkeys from the clearing and I stopped to watch a red tail hawk circling once we got to the river. He was screeching and tearing up the clear blue sky. Damn. I never get sick of that. It was then I realized I was happy to be home.

Returning home, I finished up email after putting yet another load of laundry into the washer and then, the oven timer went off. What? I went to turn it off -- and affixed to it was a blue Post-It note that said "I love you!" The Dude abides. After that entertaining moment, I made a grocery list, cleaned up the dishes, put other things away and set off for town. First I went to the local car wash and vacuumed out the three-week pile of this and that in the car. Had a teary-eyed moment when the salt flats and the dunes just wouldn't let themselves be removed from the floor mats. I feel summoned. Truth be told, I'd love to live out there somewhere. Always have.... never did. Life is complicated sometimes.

So, I have to hold forth on Maureen Donohue... most of you know (or at least remember) her from the nuptials. Irish, loud, worker bee fashionista who is also a stud -- Xcountry skier, hiker, all around athlete (buff & fabulous) who is ALSO a dog lover. She stayed at the house and took care of the hairy toddlers.... FOR THREE WEEKS... working in the city all the while. She also has a dog, who mixed well with the pack, along with her boyfriend Declan (an Irishman who deserves her, from what I can tell even though I've not yet met him), various and assorted pals who came and went during her retainment/vacation here. When we came back she had left this glorious birthday arrangement on the dining room table.

Let me break it down for you since it was difficult to photograph. Three hand made party hats complete w/ baubles she dutifully found in the basement (scrounger that she is), five gorgeous blood red roses plunked in lovely Italian pottery, some crazy Native Americanesque beaded trivet and, the most glorious gift, a GIANT "smoke bomb" mushroom with a bird nest/berry/feather "hat". I'm sure the mushroom is the one I spied on the forest trail prior to departure which was, at the time, white and growing. I'll have to ask her. She even dragged down Kitty's almost life sized Barbie doll to complete the look. Other presents were left to be found, like a sweet little potholder in the drawer next to the oven, a deck of Bush playing cards, and this.... on the master bedroom mirror....

There it is. She said it... I'm 50. And this is what it looks like... and today, walking along the windswept prairie, I got all amped up about the weather-beaten face and body I aspire to. It's all about being where you are and the person you've become after everything and before everything that will come.

Shout out for Mo. Thanks upon thanks, Maureen, and if there is anything here that I find that is actually not intended for me, please let me know. I'll happily return swiftly to you.... you Goddess. And I think the Irish need to go out drinking soon, right?

Having said all that, here's a final statement about intentions. I can't say that this would be one of mine, but after some people walk the planet for awhile, they become focused on certain things.... In case you can't read the article, this gentle man (yes, space intended), Douglas Tabler, freaked out about live lobsters being sold at the local Co-Op (which doesn't bode well for the Co-Op vibe) when "he and his partner saw them huddled in the corner of the tank feeling that the lobsters were afraid". So, he bought up the ones in the case and mailed them to his brother in Boston for release. His brother is the Humboldt Baykeeper Director so I suppose he has all kinds of rights in that regard. The lobsters cost $80 and the shipping was $140. He says he'll continue until the sales stop. What's a Co-Op to do? That's intention for you.

Peace Out....

WE'RE ALL HOME AND STUFF!

Today was a good day. We headed out from Sheridan @ 7:33AM (MST). Wendy had an egg & cheese bisquit from Burger King, I had coffee (breakfast), and we found the highway. Just plant that cruise control at 80 MPH and steer. Wyoming was really scenic and the roads were SMOOOOOOOOTH.

South Dakota? Not so much. Bad roads, weird towns, lots of road repair that didn't help much (doin' it on the cheap, I'm sure), and a lot of nothing. I did find a two-SUV caravan from Michigan to follow - the lead driver had a radar detector, so we were able to achieve an average of 80-85 MPH, which makes for good time (specially when you want to get the hell through South Dakota!). I did take particular notice, though, when we passed by Mount Vernon and Mitchell, South Dakota. Mount Vernon is where my Dad's mother's parents had a small farm. It was opening pheasant hunting day in SD today, too, and my Great Grandfather, Harry Hanson, was a pheasant hunting guide there. Great Grandmother Cora was in a nursing home in Mitchell the last time I saw her (probably 1973??) before she passed on. And Mitchell is the home of the Corn Palace, so .... South Dakota ain't so bad (but, really, pretty bad ...). probably gets better the farther away from the interstate that you get -- a lot like many states, I imagine.

At the border of Minnesota (the higher taxed state), there was a huge greeting sign, the interstate turned to velvetty-smooooooth blacktop, the road signs were prominant and informative (thanks 3M and your sign making contracts! Ha!).

When we pulled into Cannon Falls around 8:40PM, we were greeted at the Super America (and ain't America just SUPER!??!?) by Kitty's buddy, Travis, who works there. Picked up some Half&Half and some eggs. Got home. The dogs were wimpering, leaping, and happy (thanks to Maureen, who probably gave them more attention than they get from us in a year!).


It's good to be home, dammit!!! What a ride ........... sigh. The scout and I successfully spent 21 days together 24 hours/day, but we did get into some fights. The first one was about a U-Turn (I think), the second one was about not hearing what Scout or Navigator said (You know, "assuming makes an ass out of you and me"). Both "fights" lasted a couple seconds and then we made up. It was a test: Could we remove ourselves from the normal day-to-day comforts and familiarity and still be Scout & Navigator on the road across America? Well, we did it. We're in love (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), and that's why we didn't fail it. Thanks to all who traveled along with us via these here internets!!!! It was so good to have you with us (duh!).

Now, I'm going back to writing my new smash-hit country song: "ADOPT A HIGHWAY"

Parting Shots

One thing I learned about my beloved husbundt tonight was that he covets a blue 1950's toilet. I know my next mission.


Just had to share this, from Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. Wish we could have stayed there, just to tempt fate.


This, our last stop in Sheridan, Wyoming, as Brent has already intimated, is the motel we want to take in our car in a Ziploc bag and unfold for every stop along our next journey to anywhere. Humble presentation, hi-fi friendly service, clean retro room, WWII Pacific war TV (20,000 American casualties and 6,000 deaths in one battle on Iwo Jima -- can't wrap our brains or consciousness around it at all), and all for $50 including tax. Our neighbors were unbelievably loud for an hour and a half (Brent kept peeking out the curtain) -- sounded like they were stomping around their room w/ lead boots on, but all is quiet now.

It's time for bed now. The train is coming through town... the whistle is blowing. I can't stand it... it's too nostalgic. Ouch.

Finally, here's what it's really all about. Ahhh.... the endless.... eternal.... and abiding....


Thanks for coming along with us. It's been quite a ride.

luvluvandmoreluv

Alamo Motel - Sheridan, Wyoming

This Motel wins as BEST MOTEL for our entire 3-week trip. The twenty-something latino fellow at the desk was incredibly helpful from the get-go. Wendy explained to him that a lot of motels advertise "FREE WIRELESS" only to find out that it's weak and doesn't even work most of the time (But, it's free, so how can you complain, yadda-yadda-yadda). He assured us that we would each have four bars of reception (we were still skeptical). We hooked up the lap-tops and BAMMM: FOUR BARS! The bathroom sports some glass brick window action, canary yellow and baby blue tile work, a blue porcelain toilet and tub, tons of shower pressure, refrigerator, microwave, pleasant smelling for a smoking room (the only room they had left), and parking 3 feet from the door! price, you ask? With tax .... $50. Nice.

Coeur d'Alene to Sheridan

We drove ..... this country is immense. That is all.

Leaving Seattle (Sweet Seattle) ....

So, we left SUNNY Seattle and Diane's cozy pad, headed North a few miles to hook up with my old buddy Maia, her husband Jeff, and their adorable little peanut, Sophia (who was born on the same day as our friends Trisha and John's Sophia!). We caught up; we agreed - through the fog of time - that we hadn't seen each other since about 1995, which is CRAZY, but had kept in contact over the years through email and phone calls. It was so great to see Maia as a happy, albeit tired (as expected), and connected mom. Her husband Jeff is a fella we'd like to know better as well; his Radio K bumper-sticker was a curiosity when we pulled into their driveway .... later we found that he lived in Minneapolis for a couple years.

Anyway, we also had some great sandwiches on their deck, talked about our lives a little bit, and entertained Sophia as she entertained us. It was the perfect sunny Seattle send-off in a season that should be bringing the rains of Winter at this time of year (the Scout & Navigator get good atypical weather AGAIN!). We also talked about how little most people change as they grow older; Maia seemed as familiar to me as she did in 1988 or 1995. WACKY ... but, so good.

Sophia is getting pretty good at Tinker Toys --- a little tinkerer. I'm sure that Maia and Jeff would concur. What a little sweetheart she was!

Then, it was off to Idaho for the night ... on the way, we saw these sights:

The Cascade Range:

An hour or so later (Navigator took a nap!) ... The Columbia River:

Runnin 'Round Seattle with Mark & Lady Di

This part of our trip rocked ass ....TOTALLY. Wish we'd had camp counselors like these guys in SanFrancisco... things might have gone much much better. As with most cities, Seattle has neighborhoods and we covered a bunch of them in less than 48 hours: first a walk to Upper Queen Anne for provisions, returning for a delightful dinner at Chez Lady Di and then down to Fremont and along the Washington Lake canal, also on foot. Later, more cocktails in Lady's Di's four-story DE-luxe hill house and finally to bed. Next morning...a luxurious slow start, soft boiled eggs & homemade muffins, and then off to Mark's Playboy Pad, picture windows overlooking a commercial seaport filling tanker ships with grain, which is what he's always lusted for as a view. Next, busline downtown to the Bainbridge Ferry and a short walkabout (a way-bit-too 50th & France for anyof our tastes ) but the ferry was an awesome ride with the added color of a bored captain who, after embarking, announced ".... there is good news and bad news.... the bad news is, I have had more accidents at sea than any other captain in Seattle -- but the good news is, I'm not driving the ferry today...." and then went on to point out the safety features of the ferry. (note: once again, coffee cup in hand)


We'd planned that morning to take the Bremerton ferry, on Mark and Di's recommendation, and walk around this last bastion of affordable Seattle real estate (where the artists are moving, sez Di) -- a more colorful, lo-fi territory, befitting our adventurous and acrid tastes. But, it took an hour to get there after waiting an hour and a half for embarking and there was too long a wait for return so we opted for "just a ferry ride" to Bainbridge in lieu of more tantalizing destinations. Next time we visit, touring Bremerton is going to be my primary initiative, since I'm always planning to move somewhere else.

Meanwhile, Mark recounted an anecdote about Bremerton, the Seattle naval base where his ship was docked state side when he was an enlisted sailor, during the Vietnam War. (Those of you who know Mark, imagine him decked out in his blue and white sailor uniform..... wait for it.....!!!! THERE!) He said that since moving to Seattle, he'd had a nostalgic drink at a bar where he used to imbibe with his fellow sailors when they didn't have enough money to make it to the mainland. When they did have money, god only knows what happened upon their arrival in Seattle. You'll have to ask him. And I can't wait to drink some Irish whiskey at that bar.

The dudes did a little blue-collar manly work to bring a little of that "Bremerton vibe" to the too-precious streets of Bainbridge ....
(note: Brent & ... what else?....coffee.... even while lifting heavy objects)
Returning from the ferry we visited an amazing book store and strolled through the downtown area for awhile looking for a place to hold cocktail & appetizer times. Here we are waiting for our hors d'oeuvres, which took over an hour to be delivered, at the Triple Door (a longer story).... there was no gratis food b/w/o apology, but we were thanked "for our patience". Fortunately for them, the food was really really good once it got there.... Lady Di is holding forth and making a good point, as usual. She has been my hero for many years.

And here we are in East Lake at the Zoo (a socialist bar) playing out Nordeast traditions like pool and a cheap pitcher of beer (note: Basil Rathbone: wall photo on the far left -- must be Mark's long lost uncle, right?)
And here's the cab ride that ate my wallet... (gone, gone, gone... classic!) Thankfully, our cash is in the First Aid Kit.

After East Lake we went to Capitol Hill, scarfted some awesome Thai food and then back to Upper Queen Anne for a nightcap and coffee -- the bar was loud and slamming stupid corporate techno for the girls in "retro" 80's garb and the bartenders were assholes. So, returning to Chez Lady Di, we went the last mile as a palate cleanser, cooking up some absinthe for the final final nightcap. I asked for a night of barhopping ... and I got it.

Thanks Mark & Di. Yer the best, as always.... count on it!

Leaving Klipsan - Headed for Seattle

Klipsan Beach Cottages Cozy Action Times Love Action

Here I am posting from the toilet; it ain't so bad ... a few years ago, this travel 'blogging wouldn't have been possible anyway. The Scout is out in the dining area blogging away. I realized something today: We had to inform Denny (the owner) that we would be staying an extra day by 11AM. I threw on some clothes, made some coffee, and walked around looking for him or his wife, Mary. I could see some smoke from a fire billowing from behind their complex, so I found my way back there through the gardens and yards and said, "good day for a fire, huh!?" Denny said, "Yeah, I've been waiting all Summer for this ... we had a fire ban in effect until last week. How are you two doing? Everything going fine?". I answered, "Everything is perfect." He lit up a Winston and we continued talking about living in a small community and all that. But, the mind-stirring thing about hanging out with him was that I could see myself doing what he does - like he was me a few decades down the road --- which lead me to wonder if the Scout and I are destined for resort-owner status ... maybe a fitting retirement occupation?

Hosting different people and return customers in an official way, like we do on our own porch in Cannon Falls. Scout concurs. So, for the next 10 years or so, I think we'll be keeping our eyes and ears open for some kind of property that we could retire on hosting people from around the country. I think we could pull it off ... all this proves is that a vacation of this sort makes you look closer at time, retirement, and ways to survive happily until you tip over for good.

(P.S. I love you, Wendy ........ not kidding at all in the least for sure you bet duh!)

SCORE!!!

As I've mentioned, we really hoped that the encounter with beach lightning might conjure up a piece of shoreline and a nice cottage before we left for Seattle and then, home. On the phone, Rita mentioned an area she and Mike had visited on their last trip west on a skinny long peninsula that begins about six miles west of this amazing bridge we encountered leaving Astoria, Oregon where the Columbia River dumps into the Pacific. I don't think I've seen anything like it before.... a roller coaster bridge! I imagine there have been plenty of times that the lower portion of this bridge was completely submerged in a mix of fresh and salt water. Amazing.


Reaching the other side (about 3 miles later!!) we'd arrived in Washington state. We drove west through Chinook where there is much history available at the Lewis & Clark Interpretive Center and sites around Cape Disappointment State Park & Lighthouse but we headed up the peninsula to get a place to stay. The peninsula is about thirty miles long and only three miles wide, interrupted with little towns like Seaview, Long Beach and Oysterville, which is the very last tiny town before the Willapa National Wildlife Refuge and Leadbetter Point State Park.

The resort Mike & Rita stayed at was not responding via phone and when we pulled up, the office was dark and locked. We drove up past Ocean Park, checked out a few more dumpy motels and were starting to get discouraged. We turned around and headed back south. On the north edge of Klipsan Beach I spied a quiet grey sign: Klipsan Beach Cottages. Pulling in, it looked expensive and when an enormous Doberman barked from behind the locked office door at me I thought we were destined for the Super8 Motel chain. I hesitated before walking away ... and just then Denny appeared like a light in a dark road trip moment. He let me in, his dog calmed down and I said, "You have any rooms I can afford?" and he said "I want all your money!" Ocean views? Yes. Kitchenettes? Yup. Internet? Uh-huh... wireless. How much? I winced. $100. WHAT?!? We walked out to the car and he said to Brent..." Wanna see a cottage?.... $200!" He showed us two cottages and we took the one with the big fireplace, large window and sliding glass door opening to a huge deck overlooking a lovely, rolling grassy dune and the ocean beyond -- a 3-minute walk to the beach. "I've gained three acres since I bought this place... the ocean used to come up to the edge of the trees." I think he said he'd owned it since 1975. What a deal!

This resort is very neat and tidy; landscaped grounds that are beautiful but not precocious or precious, well-designed and utilitarian. The eight cottages plus the grand A-frame stand in a row facing the Pacific. There's an open-air shed stacked to the roof with wood; a big stump, an axe for splitting and a wheelbarrow to roll the wood to your cabin. "I don't chop it for you... and don't take your leg off -- you city folks don't know much about chopping wood", he said, "and no smoking in the cottage!... I can't even smoke in my own house." Another shed lined with BBQ grills on wheels which you can roll up to your deck and an area to clean fish or clams and ... a pay phone. No cellphone signal to be found here btw, not even roaming. The WiFi comes and goes for me, but Brent is relegated once again to the bathroom or the front stoop... the one and only downside to this place, given our penchant to travelblog.


Denny reminds me of a guy who shoulda been doin' stand-up in Vegas, sporting aa handsome beer belly like Brent (he likes his beer, he said) a quick, deadpan wit with steady delivery ...you can just hear a punchline coming, and he threw us a few. He looks a bit like a short Walter Mondale in Levi 501's and a cooler hairdo. He whipped out a map marking restaurants, grocery stores and fresh fish markets for us -- very helpful -- and told us what wasn't good, in his opinion, in addition to repeating (four times) that if we wanted to stay another night, we had to let him know by 11AM. (I had weird dreams worrying I'd sleep past 11AM since I couldn't fall asleep until 4:30AM) I'll try to get a photo of he and his wife Mary before we leave. They run a tight ship here and they are awesome. I have to get the name of their dog too!

Storytimes: After loading into the cottage, we drove south into Long Beach in search of dinner when we should have gone the shorter distance north to Ocean Park and gotten groceries there as well. Not much open in Long Beach and the first place we saw was a bar & grill sorta spot. Walking up the sidewalk, an ENORMOUS, bear-sized, territorial dog in the bed of a truck first growled, then barked and finally lunged, straining at a leather leash that didn't look very secure at the time. We laughed nervously and then scooted into a place that seemed okay from the doorway but once inside was... uhhh... not so good... instantly bad vibe.

It was one of those moments when everyone turns to look at you and if you leave, it's just not cool. So, we slid into a black Naugahyde booth struggling to converse over the straining voice earnestly going after a 90's girlie ballad on the Karoke machine, while we tried to figure out if there was a server or if we should just approach the bar. Finally, this skinny, overly-amped, scarey-smiley bartender approached our table (meth addict?) over-apologizing about not seeing us and then, again and again aaaaannnnnd again. Some guy was meandering back and forth aimlessly between a table and his beer on the bar, clearly wasted, but looking as if he was accomplishing something or other. To our left, a table full of white trashers were yapping and snarfing what looked like tacos from some distant steam table. The next Karoke singer launched into some country song. Yikes! We decided to order a drink and get the hell outta there ASAP. We were drinking some unidentified and nasty Irish whiskey, which I left 3/4 of in the glass as we exited, running into the bartender who was manically smoking and talking on a remote phone outside the door. He hailed us and apologized AGAIN for "not seeing us" to which we said, "no problem maaaahhhn", but kept moving, past Kujo in the truck without incident (didn't even growl... he must have figured out we're dog people) and hi-tailed it to a great Thai Restaurant where we met these kissy face fish....
and had a kick ass meal w/ left-overs to boot. Another S&N road night. I'm beginning to think we are magnets for making fun out of the weird, dark shit... which is fine and great and whatever but I was not in the mood last night for more white trash meth party tragic crazy. I just wanted to get back to that cozy little cottage on the dunes, dammit! It was time for a respite from the plight of America's small communities.

There has been steady rain since this morning. We went into Ocean Park to grab groceries; Klipsan Beach for fresh seafood -- oysters, crab, scallops. I'll make some kinda something for dinner out of what we have and we'll just hang here for the night. A quiet, uneventful evening ... unless the tsunami decides it's time to roll and we are staying in a tsunami zone. Now, wouldn't that be perfect..?... S&N finally land a great place to hang out and then....CRASH, SLOSH, GURGLE, GURGLE --- DOWN! Could be a great way to go, if we have to. But, I don't think we're ready to check out of the planet anytime soon. We're still having fun and reading the guest book library only reinforced our own feelings. We'll be back here.... maybe we'll bring some of you along.

Meanwhile, Brent takes a nap....

LOOKOUT BIRTHDAY TIMES, ETC!!!

Nothing like a 5 mile round-trip hike up and down hills and switchbacks to Lookout Point to prove that the Scout can kick my hiking butt. It was so worth it, though. Again, no words. But, seeing the Scout on her birthday as happy as clam dip to be sharing this overwhelming vista made it seem like it was my birthday, too!

After Lookout Point, we high-tailed it to a restaurant called The Pirate's Cove. Great view, great mashed potatoes, good wine, good steak, lousy seafood (go figure), too expensive (refigure). After dinner, we made our way around Cape Meares Lighthouse and finally ended up back in Netarts (which we began referring to as Retarts and/or Netards) where we were staying at a pretty ridiculous "cottage". We found a bar down on the water called The Schooner. The Scout will hold-forth on the great time we had there with Dave, Amy, Trish, and Lavelle.
Below, you will see a photo of the interior of our "cottage". It was way more funny than disappointing.

You know, when you're a photo-stylist, you can't pass up an opportunity like this one. The Scout didn't have to do any work; this photo just took itself.

When we checked out in the morning, the fellow at the desk told me in his broken English that he had once delivered corn seed to a farmer in Minnesota and he gave him coffee and pie, so every time he rents to a Minnesotan, "I am so happy". Hmmmm. (Wonder how he'd like to house Norm Coleman?!?!?!)

This morning, we hit the Tillamook Air Museum. It's housed in a blimp hanger built in 1943 for coastal patrolling -- the hanger itself is known as the world's largest wooden structure. It's footprint is 7 acres (!!!!). Anyway, we spent about 2 hours there looking at all the old WWII fighters and bombers, some later model aircraft, and a lot of photos and memorabilia. The highlight for me was to walk around this beauty - the Chance-Vaught F4U-4 Corsair, my favorite airplane (every boy has a favorite airplane --- Rev. Boyce, I will send you photos of their P-38 Lightning ... pristine!).

Tonight, we found the best lodging so far on our trip. A little cottage on the Long Beach Peninsula. We'll be posting from here, but AGAIN the Navigator has to go out to the front of the cottage to get Wi-Fi access, while the Scout sits at our dining room table internetting away at will. Oh, well .... there can be no complaining after a find like this (which was spotted by Scout, of course, as we drove frantically looking and as our disappointment began to rise with every place we looked at ... there's even a fire crackling away in our fireplace.

So Much to Post, So Little WiFi

OK--- it's 10/17 and we're in Tillamook, Oregon at a strip mall doing more laundry. The Radio Shack next door has unintentionally proffered us their wireless signal and while the clothes go round and round in the dryer, I'll pack as much as possible into this post. We haven't downloaded any photos from my birthday adventures yet, so that post is yet to come but I assure you it was quite a day ... and quite quite the night.

Here are some more photos from our time w/ Fatguy at Cooley's Cottage -- a cute little place much like what you'd find on the North Shore.


It was a two block walk from the beach and we had no view but the back deck was surrounded with coastal shrubbery which gave us privacy from neighbors. On Friday night, we found a pretty damn good dinner in Old Town at the Waterfront Restaurant. A self-proclaimed shaman (with "heavy necklace") was our waiter and he poured on the charm(s) if you know what I mean. Returning to the cabin, we made our way to the beach in the dark. The tide was out but the water was wild and it was windy. The weather was grey the next day, but we did some stuff anyway like driving to a state park to see the dunes.
The dunes are much larger and more impressive than can be seen here -- but I really had no idea that pine trees grew all over them -- a strange sight for a girl used to midwestern black dirt spawning pines. In the distance, people rode rental dune buggies up and down the steep slopes. Hilarious. We decided not to spend the money. But, I made a Lumix movie of a tiny blonde boy sandboarding on the dunes. It's all the rage out here. I'll show it to you sometime when we invite you to dinner to view our vacation photos and films. You know... the night when everyone falls asleep while we go on and on and on and on....

Then, we took a long walk on the beach near our cottage....
....returning to the cottage for cocktails serviced by the 1960's vintage Executair 707 port-a-bar I gave Brent for Christmas two years ago, which we finally got to break in on this trip.... (note the squeeze cheese for color and fun with crackers).

.... and, finally, an awesome take-out from Thai Talay,my favorite being the hot seafood curry which had tons of scallops, shrimp, crab, myriad fish and mussels (still in their shell) and god knows what other kind of sea creature. Damn.... that was good.

What happened next (after absinthe) is what you've already read in the previous post.... that crazy encounter with beach lightening. We were lucky to make it out alive and we are definitely enlightened for having survived it. Nirvana takes unexpected forms. We are beginning to really understand how Rimbaud wrote poems like a madman for four years and then disappeared into the ocean.

Today we're leaving Tillamook, heading north to the Washington coastline -- Long Beach -- as we've been advised to check out. It appears there is much history around the Lewis & Clark expedition which brought those brave and weary dudes & company, on the last leg of their journey via the Missouri River to the Pacific. Some good hikes will be had here I'm sure. And possibly sleeping in the car if we can't find a place to stay.

We hope to finally get a cottage that feels right for a couple days ... something on the beach or at least with an ocean view that doesn't cost a million dollars or, worse, look like a suburban neighborhood replete with stone gates, private resort signs and garish streetlights.... for what....?.... spotting land sharks? What we have discovered on this trip is that the Ma & Pa motels of the past are struggling and very rundown, and while we can roll with that (even though we've tired of it after two weeks), they are not very affordable either, especially for what you're getting. The rest of the beachfront places have become condos or are huge, corporate hotels which just suck, no matter what. So even if we have to blow our budget, we're gonna get a piece of beach. Or at least a clean bathroom that doesn't flood the floor when you shower. Still, we have dug the human beings we've met along the lo-fi way and decided that there really are awesome people most everywhere... and they far outweigh the assholes.


ONWARD, BRAVE TRAVOLIERS!!!