Home

I’ve been home a few days now. The posts have been late because wifi isn’t set up yet. I am currently at the car wash, getting a professional interior detail. It was crucial. 

It’s been a little overwhelming trying to settle in and unpack, but our new home is wonderful. It’s a three minute walk to the T and a one minute walk to the beach. I mean, it’s still a Boston Harbor beach, no waves or anything. Our view isn’t like that of the Cape or the city from Cambridge over the Charles you see on postcards. Nope, our view contains the traffic-jammed I-93 and the National Grid gas tank, but it’s perfect. It’s real Boston. And that gas tank has painted on it the world’s largest copyrighted work of art, didntchya know!

Boston is a beautifully imperfect city...Or an imperfectly beautiful city, I’m not sure. It’s flawed, no doubt. Its roads were built on old cow paths (which is apparently a myth upon further research, but it sure is believable) and modern day driving is at times absurd. It is the third most expensive city in the country to live in. We have arctic winters and tropical summers. We may not appear to be the friendliest, but we are a loyal bunch. And we’re proud. These flaws make the city what it is and without them it wouldn’t be Boston, it wouldn’t be the best.

Needless to say, I am biased, but I just saw how many cities and I think Boston trumps them all. The others may have perks we do not, but all-in-all, I pronounce Boston the winner. I thought about ethnocentrism a lot on my trip. If I’m being very honest, I’d have to say I am a culprit of the occasional, or not so occasional, ethnocentric thought. It’s not that I truly think “The way you live is terrible. The way I live is better than the way you live.” I’m not an idiot. What I am guilty of is driving through a town and thinking "What kind of person lives in a place like this? What kind of people choose this? Don’t they know Massachusetts is only 2500 miles east? Why not go there?" Then I’d see a sign for a school bus stop and something would click. People live here. Real people with real lives, with kids they have to get to school in the morning. I am not ignorant, nor am I very naive, but kind of embarrassingly, simple-minded thoughts like this occurred over and over again. 

I want to repeat that I do not believe my culture is superior to anyone else’s, it’s just hard to imagine being from somewhere else than where you are from. Does everyone have this difficulty? Even imagining living somewhere different is a little tough, but I’m talking about a Boston to Denver transition. What about the people who immigrate here from a poor, primitive village? Or someone who grows up on Nebraska farm land and takes a job in bustling Tokyo? Takes a brave soul, it does. 

It was fascinating to see new and different places. I saw several cities I could see myself living in for a little while. Maybe Denver, southern California, Portland? Butttt maybe I don’t have to move far away after graduation. But that’s months away. By that time, I may have the itch again. For now, I feel like I got it out of my system. I’m refreshed and renewed, especially in the new house. I can stay put for a while. Right now I’ll be glad to not leave the state for six to twelve months. I’m quite content to not even leave the house for that matter.

I want to keep this blog. I don’t expect anyone to read it as I know anyone that checks in on it now is someone I know, interested in my trip. But writing is an outlet for me, and it’s very different for me writing privately and writing for people I know will read it. I journal often, but it is a mess. The thoughts are all over the place, I use shorthand, and my penmanship is atrocious, not to mention I write about things no one else would want to read about, nor would I want them to. Writing for the public eye, no matter the number of people, is a way to use my brain. I’ve heard it’s good for your brain to do some work once in a while. Keeps it runnin’.

I want to thank everyone for keeping up with me, for reading, for the texts and calls, for the gifts before I left. I only know I could live far away because I have such great people that I wouldn’t lose touch with. I’m very lucky. 

Love from Henley & I  <3

Day 25: NY >> MA

It was about a five and a half hour drive from the rest stop to Boston, but added in were several stops for coffee, human pee breaks, dog pee breaks, snacks, anything to stay awake. I arrived at home by two. The house was empty, ready to be moved out of. Every little noise echoed with a sadness. We loved this place so much, but there was another chapter ahead for us. Especially for Holly, who had worked so hard for so long to be able to buy her first home at the age of twenty six, in Boston no less.  

I may not have read the plaque on each monument or place of interest. I didn’t read up on the history of the place I was in, nor did I learn the geology behind the mountains, canyons, and rivers I admired. I saw a lot of mountains, canyons, and rivers though. I’m going to count that as something. I read the traffic signs in each state and noticed if they were yelling at you or if they were more suggestive and polite. I heard drivers, whether they were calm and pleasant or rushed and angry behind the wheel. I saw the several different ways to make bales of hay, the different sizes and shapes, and ways to stack them. I listened to the local radio, which was more often than not country music. It comes in everywhere. I mean everywhere. I listened to farm market radio when they rattled off data stating if the corn and soy beans and cattle were up or down. I ate from local joints and eavesdropped on conversations. I can read a book anytime, but there’s some things you just have to submerse yourself in. 

I’ve been so appreciative of so many things the past month: no car trouble, no problems with the cargo box, and no speeding tickets in over nine thousand miles. I’m thankful for national forests, safe rest areas, a gorgeous country, when gas prices are below three dollars, when coffee is below three dollars, credit cards, eighty mile per hour speed limits, and dog-friendly places. I’m thankful for friends and family who checked in on me. And I’m thankful for Henley every single day (Thanks George & Melissa).  :)

I drove 9,465 miles through twenty three states in twenty five days. 

<3

Exhausted but super excited  :p

Day 24: IL >> OH >> PA >> NY

For the next day, I had made a reservation for the architecture tour that takes a dog-friendly speedboat around Lake Michigan and down the Chicago River through the city. I wanted to drive into the city to park closer than the Airbnb so we could jump on the road when we were done. First mistake. I couldn’t find a metered spot on the street so ended up parking in a lot that would cost a fortune. We walked to find Wildberry Pancakes & Cafe and could not. Looking at the map, it was right there, so close, but the sidewalk ended to a wall of bushes, we couldn’t walk any farther that way. We took this long route into the park to get to it from another angle, but that part of the park was closed for construction. I was over it. Walking towards Navy Pier where the boat is, I noticed a few parking spots on the street. We had some time so I figured I’d get my car out of that lot, plus be a lot closer to the pier. Just more mistakes. We ran to the car, still had to pay twenty four dollars, drove to where I saw the spots, which were no longer there, or perhaps never existed at all, and drove around in circles until it got so late I had to park in another lot. We had to run all the way to the pier and it ended up costing an additional forty dollars. Sigh.

The tour was good, though! I got more battle wounds from trying to keep Henley in the boat. The Coast Guard is pretty intense there and fine big bucks for littering, even if your hat blows into the Michigan, so I can’t imagine what a Lab would cost me. 

I really wanted to drive straight to Boston at this point, but I only made it as far as Buffalo. We spent the night in what may be our last rest stop ever, but probably not.  :)

Chicago, as seen from Lake Michigan

Day 23: MN >> WI >> IL

I wish I had read Travels with Charley before I left. It is chock full of wise words. I have to share this:

“Joe and I flew home to America in the same plane, and on the way he told me about Prague, and his Prague had no relation to the city I had seen and heard. It wasn’t the same place, and yet each of us was honest, neither one a liar, both pretty good observers by any standard, and we brought home two cities, two truths. For this reason I cannot commend this account as an America that you will find. So much there is to see, but our morning eyes describe a different world than do our afternoon eyes, and surely our wearied evening eyes can report only a weary evening world.”

I cannot commend this account as an America that you will find.

Chicago was seen through my weary eyes. I was sick of places. I just wanted to be home. Chicago is too big a city for the end of a long road trip. It deserves the first stop on a road trip. It deserves time, effort, and enthusiasm. All of which were dwindling or nonexistent by this point. It was in the mid nineties, the traffic was bad, the parking worse, and the honking all made it feel like home, though. But I was tired. 

After the usually-long drive and getting settled in the Airbnb in West Town, we walked the couple miles to downtown. We went to Millennium Park where the big bean, or Cloudgate, is. Kids and Henley played in a cool fountain. We were taking selfies in the bean like you’re supposed to do when we got kicked out. No dogs allowed. In the entire park. And other parks. 

We had to find cold drinks and wifi because at this point the internet on my phone wasn’t working at all so I had no maps or Yelp or anything. I asked a stranger with a dog if there were patios around Henley was welcome on. Apparently there’s not much, but he did know one place for sure, Howells and Hood, so we went there. On the way, though, walking along the Chicago River, we passed a tiki bar serving out of a storage container so we had to stop there. I love these storage container things. I don’t even need to leave Henley tied outside. We can walk right up to the counter to order because you’re still outside. He got some ice cubes and I got a Leinenkugel’s Summer Shandy. Went down real fast. We continued on to the restaurant on the corner of the river and Michigan Ave. I got Krankshaft Kolsch, a Chicago-brewed beer, and the cheese board. Yes, the appetizer meant to split between several people. Great choices. 

We mosied around Magnificent Mile (the shopping strip of Michigan Ave), River North, and New East Side. I’m not entirely sure where we were, but around those areas, which isn’t covering much. We watched the weekly fireworks for a little while then walked back to the Airbnb where the air conditioning felt glorious. 

I wish I was as photogenic as Henley.

Puppy's first fireworks

Day 22: SD >> MN

The lightening carried on for hours; sometimes just a flash of light behind clouds, sometimes an intricate zig zag of electricity. It was very windy. The bottom half of the bug screen on the window over my head peeled off. I pulled the bottom inside so it wasn’t blowing around. I had a hard time falling back asleep after that as I was waiting to see if the rest would blow off and dreading the big move if I had to climb to all fours in the short car to reach to turn the car on to put up the window. (My knees are still quite sore after the fall. Maneuvering in the small space is no easy task.)

And I was rather loving the breeze. I could have sworn we were on a boat off the coast of Maine. Across the parking lot, the metal hardware on the flags’ ropes hit against the flagpole and the flags wooshed and flapped. Or was it the sail wooshing and flapping and its metal boaty things hitting the mast? We weren’t in South Dakota at all.

After getting some sleep on the best boat (one that doesn’t rock), we drove through Buffalo Gap National Grasslands and Badlands National Park. One of my main goals for this trip was to see buffalo and get an amazing photograph, which would be in black and white, enlarged, and framed. I was driving through the entire width of South Dakota, west to east, all four hundred plus miles. This was my chance. 

I saw deer, bighorn sheep, cows, and prairie dogs. No buffalo. Dreams crushed. Road trip ruined.

The Badlands were pretty awesome. They were the only destination for this day so the rest was just devoted to driving closer to Chicago. We stopped at an 1880s town and decided to not actually go in, but to get pancakes at a 1950s diner in an old train car just outside instead. Then we stopped at a lake in the town of Oacoma for a swim and walk. It’s finally hot out again. I had been in (the same) jeans and sweatshirt for the past three days. Of course I packed too much. I’ve worn about six articles of clothing. And why on Earth did I bring a yoga mat? 

Next stop was in Sioux Falls near the eastern edge of South Dakota. Nice little city. I got coffee and used the wifi in the dog-friendly M.B. Haskett Delicatessen and got fries to go. Why not? Keep up the good work. 

Then we just drove and drove and drove...

Day 20 & 21: WA >> ID >> MT >> WY >> SD

I’m combining these two days because both sucked; filled with driving and disappointment. Sunday morning before leaving Seattle, I got a veryyy lucky phone call from my friend Brent. When I told him I was about to leave for Glacier National Park, he said there was a wildfire there so to check that out before I went. After looking at news articles and calling the park, it was confirmed. People were abandoning their cars before they blew up. I don’t know if some of the park was still accessible, but things sounded serious enough I didn’t want to be near there. I’m veryyy happy I didn’t drive there to find out. Thank you Corporal Osborn!! :)  Glacier was one of the stops I was most looking forward to. See Google image below to see why.

These last six days have a lot of driving because it is where I had to edit the trip and squish some days together when Holl bought her condo and we learned we were moving August first. So I thought I could at least use this day to cover some ground. I entered the next location into the GPS: Black Hills National Forest in South Dakota. Only 1166 miles away. I would drive as far as I could tolerate and do the rest the following day. 

I got on I-90 east. I’ll pretty much be on this all the way to Boston. I drove through Snoqualmie Pass and Spokane, Washington; Coeur d’Alene National Forest, Idaho; and into Montana. I stopped at Clark Fork, a river I kept passing over. It was a perfect pit stop for Henley to get some exercise. It was far down a steep hill from the highway so he could run free and swim. All was fun and games until I threw a stick too far, getting into the rapids. Henley swam in and the river took him. I ran down the beach trying to keep up with him, yelling encouragingly. He went past some big rocks in the middle of the river so I couldn’t see him. I was waiting at the other side to see him again. He wasn’t reappearing. Finally, I saw him on top of one of the big rocks. I coaxed him to come down and swim to me. The water was much smoother on this side but strong enough that he was moving sideways as he inched forward. When Henley was safe on the beach, no thanks to me, we got the hell out of there. 

After covering almost seven hundred miles, we called it a night at a rest stop in Bozeman, Montana. I thought it was odd there was a rest stop in a decent sized city. They’re usually not near anything, just in the middle of a highway. The parking lot was packed. There were at least two people there that clearly lived in their car, and I think right there at the rest stop. This is why you don’t put a rest stop in a city. It’s only going to be filled with weirdos and poor people (me). I moved my car four times to get away from creeps and lights. It didn’t work. There was light shining directly into the back of my car and people completely surrounding me. These weren’t friendly fellow road trippers either. I couldn’t put the windows down because it was raining so it was already too warm and then I tried to completely cover myself with a sheet to hide so it got warmer. Oh and then a Montana phone number called me at five a.m. Which creep in this parking lot is calling me and how did he get my number? Worst rest stop and worst sleep ever. This morning a man (one who definitely lives in his car) asked me for money. There’s a Marriott across the street and I just slept at a rest stop next to you. Does it look like a have spare cash??

Ok next day: continued driving through Montana, a corner of Wyoming, and into South Dakota. High point of the day: came across the best store in Custer filled with skulls, skins, taxidermy, and Native American stuff. Do you take credit cards?? Great. I was in Black Hills National Forest already. I just had to find a good road to go down to set up camp. I was stoked I was there early enough in the day, thanks to all the miles covered yesterday. Every other night seemed to be rushed to just find a spot before dark, but today we were going to hike and make dinner and chill all before locking ourselves in the car again. But then the sky turned a dark slate gray, the clouds looked crazy, and the wind picked up. It came out of nowhere and it was coming fast. Henley had been stuck in the car all day. I hated the thought of being stuck in it until morning. I called all of the hotels in the area. They were all booked, I’m guessing because the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally starts next week. I kept driving and played it as the weather changed.

We had come to a complete park on the road due to an accident ahead. This ended up being lucky for us because the storm hit hard with rain and wind and hail. There was no way I could have driven through it. By the time we moved ahead, the storm had calmed. It was still raining and lightening so we went to Petco so Henley could move around and play a little and get a treat. I got back on 90 east and pulled into the first rest stop I found. The weather got way worse. It felt like I could have been in a tornado, but the weather alerts just said for thunderstorms. The lightening is still crazy though. So... just locked safely in a car at a rest stop in South Dakota with a damp dog for the night. Sometimes I wonder why I chose this life for myself.  :)

<3

Between hits of the thunderstorms in Black Hills, South Dakota

Maybe my photo wouldn't have come out quite like this but still... Glacier Ntl Park  :(

My evening set up :)

Day 19: Forks >> Seattle

I got a coffee to go from a restaurant in Forks. The locals stared, probably not used to outsiders and probably thinking I was there for the Twilight tour. Small towns like these fascinate me. I was thinking it would be funny to do a travel nursing job (thirteen weeks or so) here.

I drove miles and miles through rain forest and lush evergreens and by smooth-as-glass lakes. I made it to the Bainbridge ferry terminal with plenty of time to spare. I’ve never taken a car on a ferry and didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I followed the lead of others and didn’t turn my car off or on or get out until others did. It was super windy up on the deck so we found a spot with a view out front, but protected by plexiglass. 

I drove a few miles from the Seattle ferry terminal to my Airbnb in Capitol Hill and quickly showered and started laundry, which had become my ritual when I got to a real home. This place is so wonderfully decorated! I walked around snapping pictures for inspiration when I got home and had to unpack and redecorate the new place. 

We took a long walk around Seattle to the Space Needle (I should have at least looked at what its purpose is) and Pike Place Market. I got an open-faced smashed potato sandwich at The Bear and the Bee before heading back to the Airbnb to regroup and let Henley nap. I lounged a bit and wrote. I realized it was almost six, happy hour ending time, so I speed walked as if my life depended on it. The first place I had my eye one was in the middle of a closed off section of the neighborhood for a block party. I changed direction and picked up speed, getting to Rumba at least ten minutes too late. The doll offered me the happy hour menu anyway and I got a punch, guacamole with plantain chips, and a fish taco. I am a fish taco connoisseur and this is a good one. I rank it third on my list. It started raining so I had to leave, but not without stopping for a sleeve of Oreos at a convenience store. Vacation mode has got to end. I snuggled up to write, eat my cookies in bed like a fat kid, and watched a little Parks & Rec before closing my eyes. 

I could live here if it wasn’t for the dreary weather and constant rain or threat of rain.

<3

Crescent Lake, Olympic National Park

Day 18: OR >> WA

I started the day with a run in preparation for Voodoo donuts. We ran down to nearby Laurelhurst Park where I tripped on Henley and fell as soon as we entered. I did the slow roll to my back and Henley climbed on top of me, grateful for the rest. I hobbled to a bubbler and cleaned the gravel out of my flesh and washed the blood off both knees and an elbow. Fine, I didn’t want to run anyway. It was just my body’s way of telling me “No.” You should always listen to your body.

We walked the rest of the way to Voodoo while I watched everyone’s eyes scan down to my bloody knees. There was a line, but nothing like downtown’s. I do not wait in lines except sometimes I wait in lines for donuts. I waited for around fifteen minutes while Henley waited quietly outside, tired from the walk. I was next in line when I saw the “cash only” signs. This is why I should get contacts and this is why I don’t wait in lines. I left donutless. 

After showering and packing up, we drove back to Voodoo. I wasn’t giving up. I got their classic jelly-filled voodoo doll and a vegan chocolate cake one because if it’s vegan it’s basically like eating a salad and, therefore, negates the second donut. We went to the International Rose Test Garden and mosied around the lovely flowers. I took pictures of Henley as other people took pictures of their children. ((Mine’s cuter and better behaved.)) We drove around Forest Park looking for a place to park and an entrance, but couldn’t really find one? I did give up on that and  started to leave the city. The GPS said standstill traffic on the highway ahead and I wanted to eat my donut anyway so we went to Cup Coffee Co. Coffee, after gas, is my second greatest expense.

We headed north, entered the Olympic National Forest, rounded the Quinault Reservation, past Clearwater, and into the Olympic National Park. It’s a Twilight fan’s paradise up here. 

I couldn’t decide if I should write this while memories were fresh and emotions still high or to save myself some embarrassment and wait until I calmed down. Well, as you can tell by the weirdness that is to come, I wrote right away. 

The 101 finally brought me to the coast. It curved from west to north and even though there’s several yards of trees between the road and beach, I could tell it was near. I watched on my left side, hoping for a glimpse of it. Some spots were bare enough to see the foggy sky over the ocean through the trees. At the narrow road down to the first beach I got my first peek. I didn’t want to stop until I got to Ruby Beach, though, the last beach on this stretch. I didn’t want just a quick tease before getting back in the car. I wanted the full effect. I drove past one spot that was bare enough I could see the beach. It was so beautiful it brought tears to my eyes. It’s really embarrassing to say that because A) I’m not a cryer and B) How can something be so beautiful it makes you cry? I don’t know the answer myself. But it’s not just any beach. It’s not sand into water, the end. It’s so much more. I reached the little lot for Ruby Beach. I parked, put on flip flops and a hoodie, and started walking. A dirt path wound through lush forest down to the beach that was covered in drift wood. Not little pieces of wood but huge, whole trees. We climbed over the logs and walked over the smooth rocks and through the tide pools. I know I keep talking about all the beautiful places and they keep beating each other out for the number one spot, but this... this beach... I don’t want to say it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. That sounds generic and it deserves so much better than that. I just can’t describe my feelings for it without sounding like a freak. Person, place, or thing, I’ve never loved anything so much without knowing it. I love Massachusetts because it’s home. I love Ruby Beach because I was there for two minutes. 

We strolled and wandered as the cloudy sky got darker. I didn’t want to leave. Even Henley sat down on the beach as we walked back in the direction of the car. I could have went back down to the campsite at one of the other beaches so I could have more time there. I could fall asleep and wake up to this coast. I just cannot swallow paying to sleep in my car and to be surrounded by people at that. The alternative was to keep driving north, through Forks, and find a place to sleep in the car. This would make tomorrow’s drive shorter. As the only way to stay near the beach was to stay in the campground, I decided to move on, but first I would have dinner with my new love before saying goodbye. The Washington coast was the hardest to leave of all the places I have left. 

When I started driving, Cat Power’s Sea of Love played. It’s not like I’ve been listening to it this whole trip. It was actually supposed to be on the CD I’ve listened to a thousand times but it mysteriously disappeared from the playlist. Yesterday in Portland I finally remembered to put music on my phone to listen to in the car. This was the first time Sea of Love played. Between having to leave and this song, I cried a little again. Call me crazy, because I’m sounding crazy, but I can’t help but think that this is me and Ruby Beach’s song now. If I were to ever do something as silly as wed, I want to do it on this beach. I want my ashes spread at this beach. I’m going to name my first born Ruby. I’m going to give birth to Ruby on this beach. I’m going to die on this beach. I am totally kidding. Mostly.

On my way north, I drove through Forks. Forks is a small town with a population around three thousand. Only about four thousand people would ever know about it if it wasn’t for Stephenie Meyer. I’m at a rest stop of some kind except that it’s not a rest stop at all but has a sign that mentions resting at this stop so I’m sleepin’ at it.

Promise me you'll try to come here one day.

<3

Look at that arm: injuries leftover from swimming

Day 17: CA >> OR

I drove from the rest area, through Henley, California (!), through Salem, Washington and straight to my Airbnb in Portland -- a great bungalow in the Kerns neighborhood. Renting just a room and not the whole place has been interesting. I used to never think of doing it, but with trying to save money on this trip, it was always the cheaper option. I haven’t had bad experiences, just awkward at times. I just feel funny in someone’s home...when they’re home. But they’re used to it and are always really cool people. I think they’re experts on knowing when to give space and when to give less. I think I seem to give the vibe that I want space, but it’s mostly because I don’t want to interfere with their lives anymore than I already am. 

Once I got settled and before I got too settled, I got back in the car and drove east on 84. Mt. Hood was looking so sexy on the horizon. He was calling my name but he was just a bit too far. Another time big boy. I exited onto the Historic Columbia River Highway, a winding road bringing you to several waterfalls. I first stopped at Latourell Falls, which has one waterfall, Lower Falls, close to the road and another, Upper Falls, a hike away. The hike wasn’t far so we went for it. It was much more strenuous than I had thought it would be. It wasn’t meant for Vans, but more for the hiking boots I left in the car. My hair was down and I was wearing a light gray tee shirt -- all poor decisions. Due to no signage besides the one at the parking lot, I made the hike longer than it was supposed to be, but Henley had fun in the pools and that’s all that matters. We skipped past other waterfalls and went to Multnomah Falls, the tallest waterfall in Oregon. It was overflowing with tourists so I snapped a couple pics and headed back towards town. 

We went to Stumptown Coffee on Belmont. I got a cold brew, Henley got a biscuit. I was talking to the guy about my trip and he gave me two free pastries for the road! As if they saw my car... I really need to stop eating pastries and start going to the gym...

Portland is known for its food carts and I was happy to dive into this culture. They are in pods of sometimes just three to five and some pods have several. I picked a pod at random and found PBJ’s Grilled offering a variety of savory or sweet grilled sandwiches all involving peanut butter and jelly. I got one of the best sandwiches of my life: crispy coconut shrimp, peanut butter, orange marmalade, curry, sriracha, and thai basil on challah. Thank you Portland!

I drove over the Williamette River to the other side of Portland and we wandered the city. Voodoo Doughnuts was one of the only things on my must-do list, but the line was down the street. It is the equivalent of Boston’s Mike’s Pastries. Probably overrated, but people still feel like they have to go. I don’t wait in lines. I’d try the other location that’s not downtown tomorrow. 

We walked to the Poler flagship store. I don’t know how I came across Poler originally, I think on Instagram, but I’ve been a fan. I recently got a backpack from them and it is the best. I figured they’d welcome Henley because they’re cool like that and they did. No treats, though. Patagonia gives treats. I looked for a hat for my dad but they didn’t have what I wanted. I haven’t been able to shop at all with Henleybear. It’s either too hot to leave him in the car, too crowded to leave him outside, or I can tell by his mood when he’s going to bark if I leave him. When I get home I’m going to order gifts online and give them as if I bought them on the road. 

It was in Portland when I realized that it isn’t just Denver with all the drugs and homeless and it isn’t that San Francisco is similar to Denver in this way. I think it’s just that Boston doesn’t have as many homeless people as other cities and/or they don’t hang out in as big of crowds. As it turns out, a lot of the cities I’ve visited have some of the highest rates of homelessness in the world. When I see a park, I think how I want to go there to enjoy some green, some flowers and a fountain hopefully, give Henley some extra length on the leash. Now when I see a park I think how I’m going to have to walk around people sleeping on the ground and past people talking nonsensically and asking me for money. It’s all very sad and a little interesting, anthropologically speaking. 

Whenever I have the chance, I really just want to hang in and watch TV at night because I haven’t really in so long, but I’ve been good and avoided this almost entirely. Instead, I’ve been finding a place with outdoor seating where Henley can lie at my feet (or sprawled on his back in the middle of the sidewalk) and I can write while drinking beer. Seems like the next best thing. I’m not about to go to a bar alone or anywhere else and just try meeting people. Ha! I can’t even imagine. I’m more than happy to respond if spoken to. I could do it all night if I like ya, but I will not initiate. So getting a beer out is my way of being outgoing. I walked to Cardinal Club and did just that. I *responded* to some people -- Henley is a conversation piece he is -- and eventually called it a night. 

I like you a lot, Portland. I could live in you.

xoxo

Multnomah Falls. Too tall to fit in the frame.

Latourell Upper Falls

Latourell Lower Falls 

Latourell Lower Falls

Day 16: San Francisco >> Yreka, CA

I said goodbye to Sarah and continued on my trip with Henley back in the front seat. I headed to San Francisco to explore more. I ended up just driving most of it, not having an easy enough time finding parking that it seemed worth it. I drove through Hayes Valley again and got a strawberry jelly-filled brioche donut and coffee at Arlequin Cafe. I drove down Lombard Street, through Union Square, Chinatown, North Beach (the Italian section), Ghiradelli Square, and walked around Aquatic Park on the water. I drove over the Golden Gate Bridge and took the first exit hoping for some photo ops. I stopped at a Jiffy Lube a little farther north in Mill Valley and got the full work up. 

The following day I had to be in Portland, but this day was just working my way up there so I had some wiggle room. I was driving through wine country and wanted to take advantage of that, but I also wanted to see the giant redwoods and sequoias. I also had a ton of ground to cover, as much as I could in order to have less time driving the next day and more time in Portland. I chose to take the longer, slower route on the 101 to drive down Avenue of the Giants to see the big trees. I saw that the Avenue was on 101 so I didn’t look more into directions because I’d be driving right on it. 

I passed wineries in Sonoma, wishing I had more time. When I got to Eureka I thought I’d double check where the Giants were because I thought I would have seen them by now. Don’t get me wrong, there’s lots of big tree everywhere, but not the enormous sequoias I was driving far out of my way to see and not making other stops for. I was right. It is south of Eureka, and it is on the 101, but it’s on the “old Highway 101” and not the real, current 101 I was on. In California’s defense, there are signs that possibly suggest I exit off the 101 to go down the Avenue of the Giants, but I thought it was an alternative route or something! 

I wasn’t about to turn around so I kept trekking on without wine in my belly, without trees in my eyes, and some extra miles driven and time wasted. I had planned to camp in Klamath National Forest, but after driving a little while, I decided I wanted to get farther north than that, as far north as I could before falling asleep to at least gain something from this day. I stopped and used the GPS to find the quickest route to Portland and I’d hopefully just be able to pull over if I were in a national forest or find a rest stop to spend the night.

The quickest route involved backtracking forty miles. I couldn’t do it. Next option was continue the way I was driving through Klamath National Forest. It was a very slow, winding road for hours. I was rushing to get as far as I could, not wanting to waste any time. But I didn’t care about time when I saw a pizza sign in a little town and slammed on the brakes. About half way in I felt like the fat slob that I am, regretting spending a half hour on a stop like this. 

When I finally made it to the I-5, there was a rest area and I stayed there for the night. I was glad to be on a major highway to be able to shoot up (in five hours) to Portland in the morning. I had been haulin’ ass north all day. And listening to the same goddamn twenty two track CD for about five thousand miles. Still don’t know most of the words, but Henley doesn’t seem to mind. By now, I’m quite certain my voice is becoming more Stevie Nicksesque, though, and my Stevie Wonder head sway is on point. I had just recently switched it up to some nursing podcasts. Looks like the only studying I’m getting in. I must remember to put some music on my phone before I go crazy...

E&H <3