Weather turned out to be our greatest
adversary for the next few days. Dark skies obscured the views,
while intermittent downpours pounded the windshield and reduced
visibility to few feet. Dangerous enough on a state highway, more so
with the behemoths of trucks speeding by. The relentless deluge
lifted once every few hours, enough to show us bright yellow signs
warning against prisoner hitchhikers or the presence of rattlesnakes.
Brrr.
More significantly for us, since our
budget trip was centered around camping, the constant rain created
somewhat of a conundrum. Setting up camp in rain is one of the more
unpleasant activities around. For me, second only to running in ski
boots. But the weather finally relented, and we found a free
campsite in a valley overlooking the Snake River near the
Idaho/Oregon border. Back to the basics, P wandered into the brush
to gather firewood. We were forced to forgo showers and avail
ourselves of the outhouse. But we were the only occupants on the big
site. Sunset painted the sky blush pink, the reflection in the river
magnifying the effect. As we prepared our supper over the bonfire,
the gentle bubble of the rushing water and the chilling howl of a
coyote were the only sounds louder than the sizzle of our grilling
sausages. Clink of our cold beers. The solitude was complete.
The next day, Keep Portland Weird
bumper stickers announced that yes, we finally reached Portland, the
land of hugs, drizzle and sunflowers. Our friend, Nick, took us in
and showed us around town. Despite a rain-threatening Saturday
morning, smartphones in hand and hour-by-hour checks on sunshine
prediction apps, we were invited by Nick and Company to join a
favorite, we were told, Oregon past-time – floating down a river.
An assembly of more and less sturdy floating devices, plenty of
sunscreen and some laced drinks later, we completed our tour of the
scenic Clackamas River. In the evening, we came back to town hungry
and exhausted, but a scalding shower infused us with a much needed
second wind, as we pulled it together to attend a local concert of
our friend's band. That friend was none other than Ryan, our
Cambodian “biking crew” member. The intimate venue created a
low-key event that was a perfect cap off to the day.
Portland was the furthermost north we
ventured. I regretted not going to Seattle, but I guess we'll have
to leave it for next time. There's only so much we can demand of the
courageous Altima. On our way out of town, P snagged an interview,
which eventually turned into a job offer. Unhurried and a bit
stunned that things were unfolding so fast, we headed to southern
Oregon for a few days to hang with Ryan and Vanessa at their farms.
Whenever I thought of great mountain
ranges, Oregon never came to mind. That is, until we visited.
Seemingly a well-kept secret of the locals and the few transplants
lucky enough to live there, the scenery is unparalleled. Oregon is
green due to all the precipitation, but the addition of mountains and
rivers and country roads and just SPACE makes up a vibrant setting that only Mother
Nature could create and take credit for. At Vanessa's farm (complete
with four dogs, countless ducks, turkeys and a goat), we got a
glimpse of the peaceful, out-of-a-busy city way of life. A bbq one
night (with the juiciest and most succulent corn on the cob ever), a
guitar jam session on another, and of course an obligatory river
float through towering canyons, we spent the days and evenings
socializing the old school way, face to face, no computers or TVs or
useless white noise present.
Grateful for the chilled out
experience, we again threw ourselves into the road trip rhythm and
headed on south to California. Tune in tone-deaf humming...
Caaaliforniaaaa Dreamin'!!
