Mulnomah Falls...and Farewell, My Sweet.

Seattle, Washington

September 27, 2009

Day 11 of Pacific Northwest Journey

Final Day...

Is it so bad to be excited about leaving a city? Is that such a terrible thing? One of two things could be going on here: either I’m simply not a city person or perhaps I just don’t like Portland. Without a doubt, I am leaning toward the latter. There is a part of me that feels guilty for saying I don’t like a city, for I don’t want my opinion to hinder people from visiting, nor do I want my readers to think that I am passing judgement on a city, a people. That being said, truth is truth. Portland just isn’t my city. I wouldn’t choose to live here; it just wouldn’t happen. Don’t think any less of me because of it. There are loads of people who love Portland. I’ll wrap it up, put a bow on it, and give it to them as a present! Haha...if only. I don’t think the city would accept the bow...just saying.

However, my jubilation is marred by a tinge of sadness, for today is the very last official leg of our road trip. Tomorrow morning, we must return the beloved Ford Flex that I have grown to adore for it’s outright boxiness and board an airplane to fly back to the home state of North Carolina. While I love my home and am eager to get back to it again as well as see my forlorn father and brother, I hate waving goodbye to this region of the world. The vastness of the Pacific Northwest is something that is hard to surrender. Once your eyes have feasted greedily on the greens and blues, once your feet have climbed the many mountains and ran across the vast beaches, once your tongue has tasted the many delicacies like freshly smoked Pacific salmon, and once your adrenaline has been whetted and satisfied, whetted and satisfied, there is no going back to normal. You have been inducted. You have seen the other side. A part of you has married this region and there is no separating it. My senses are already beginning to long for the air, the trees, the oceans, the views, and we haven’t even set foot near the airport yet.

To finish off our trip, we are going to see another wonder of the natural world, Multnomah Falls just under an hour drive east of Portland. The pristine call of the natural world is just what I need to purify my eyes, nose, and mind of this city’s life.

Located in the Columbia River Gorge, these falls are special because they are the second highest year round waterfall in all of the USA. Afterwards, we are driving back up to our starting point of Seattle via the I-5 which will compress our week or so journey into a mere three hours. “The shortest distance between two points is a straight line, ” has never been more true. 

Our last gesture towards the city is a coffee stop. Why not help the economy (and my caffeine addiction while we are at it)? Forget the moguls of Starbucks or Stumptowns (which I found out has bases all over the city by people continually asking me which location I visited - I visited the original. Originality - that’s my thing). Anyways!!! A local neighborhood coffee shop is going to be our recipient this final morning. Leaving the Silver Cloud Inn on NW Vaughn Street, Travis explores the neighborhood. He remembers seeing a coffee shop from his walk from the previous night that looked decent so we are in search of it now. This area is more colorful almost reminding me oddly of La Boca in Argentina, but not on that grand of a scale The stores are painted in all sorts of funky colors, chalkboard signs are on the streets announcing daily specials, people are out walking their dogs. This side of Portland doesn’t seem nowhere near as bad as yesterday...you see my darlings be careful about being quick to judge. Finding it, we order our four drinks and chat with the lady about the Falls.

“You have to walk to the top!!” She exclaims as she’s steaming our milk. “It’s gorgeous up there!”

Thank God for this woman! Secretly, I had been hoping we could hike to the top of the 620ft Falls, but didn’t no how the others would receive such a recommendation after all of the crazy stunts I have put them through this week. With a local’s recommendation now it is a must! I smile ecstatically over my steaming hot mocha as we head east on Highway 84.

The whole world seems to have decided to explore Multnomah Falls. (Dang them!!) Of course, this is beehive for tourists. Looking at the pictures, you as the reader can see why. Me standing here listening to the rumble of falls, smelling the freshness of the air, and taking in the mouth-dropping beauty of the falls understand why. However, it would just be nice if they could all disappear just while I’m here. I’m not a crowd person. I don’t like lines. I don’t like feeling like a sardine especially in nature for goodness’ sakes! I have come out here to escape the city and it seems that the city has escaped to these waterfalls. BUT! I must shrug the annoyance off, put a smile on, and soak it in...well, not quite the literal term of soak. I have zero desire to end up in that freezing, rushing water. Exchanging our boots for our sneakers, we begin the mile hike  that zigs zags its way steeply up to the top. From the bottom, we stare up at the regal Tolkienesque feel. Tolkien never visited this area, but I swear that man had the Pacific Northwest in mind when he wrote Middle Earth. So many times over the last eleven days have I seen something and thought to myself that could have been in Middle Earth. Again this is happening as I stare at this waterfall and the bridge that drapes over the lower rung. If I were blindfolded and dropped here and told that this was Lothlorien, I might believe someone, for the scene is compelling. I can picture elves scurrying across the bridge with their blonde hair flying behind them and their pointy ears pointing backward. Yes, I am picturing Legolas descending to greet me, but whatever that’s beside the point!

First Mount Rainier, then the Hoh Rainforest, and now finally Multnomah Falls, I have been introduced to the Tolkien world. One that he himself never even visited.

After snapping several pictures, we ascend up to the first run and take our time on the bridge. It’s even more surreal being on it. There is a light spray from the falls, but the freshness of the air is what hits me the most. So nice after being in the city. More pictures of course. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t take picture of such beauty?

We begin again up the trail. Zigging one way, and then zagging another. The switchback trail soon starts waring on mom.

“Why are we doing this again?” She huffs.

“Because it is going to be beautiful at the top!” I exclaim ahead of her.

“I’ll just wait here...” She points to a bench at one of the turns.

Hurrying back, I grab her wrist, “Oh no you don’t! You didn’t come all this way not to finish! You are going to see the top of this waterfall! Make me proud, MOM!” How odd that this is usually spoken the other way around...

Finally the trail levels off and we actually start descending the forest lined path. 

“Aren’t we supposed to be going up?” Penny asks.

Finally the sound of the water trickles back to our ear. A small river has appeared to our left. We must be getting close! A break in the trees, a platform appears at the bottom of a a flight of steps hewn into the earth. 

The beauty of this place is mesmerizing. Hurriedly, I jump down onto the platform, and the waterfalls descends just below me. The presence of God, the visible workmanship of His Hands is all around me. I have seen it in the mountains, the trees, the ocean, and now in a waterfall. I can only but wonder if at the beginning of the world when God was creating if He took His finger and actually shaped this waterfall, or if He only spoke and it was in existence. If the latter was the case, can you even fathom the beauty of His words? Whichever way He chose, God is an incredible artist, the definer of all art. He set a pedestal that none can ever venture to put their tiny toe upon. I love Monet, but his  Water Lily Pond can’t even hold a candle to this waterfall. For moments, I lose track of, I stand and stare in absolute awe, in awe of the beauty, the glory, the power of God.

Now, we must make the hike back down. You would think it would be easier heading down, but it works a completely different muscle in your leg, and even I begin to feel it as we near the bottom. Mom declares that she wants a nap! We discuss our meal options for the night.  We already know there are too many amazing places to choose from for our parting dinner to each other and to our trip. Thankfully, a three hour drive lies before us to decide...

After browsing countless options in my guidebooks and consulting menus and reviews on the faithful blackberries, we have come to a decision. Dinner tonight will be on Elliott’s Bay at Cutters Bayhouse, which funny enough wasn’t listed in my guidebook. (Sometimes you have to go your own way.) I suggested it because I had lunch there a year ago and remember vaguely that the atmosphere was chic and remember distinctively that their smoked salmon chowder was out of this world. When the quality of the food completely dominates your memory, you know a restaurant is good. Also, it helps that one of Penny and Travis’s friend’s cousin works there as a waiter who promises outstanding service. Again, “It’s not what you know; it’s who you know.”

Arriving in the city, we head back to our favorite hotel spot, the Silver Cloud in Bellevue. We decide to freshen up and then head on out to dinner. After hiking and driving, the dinner hour has crept upon us. Our final day is coming to a close, and we are going out with a bang. A food bang, that is. Has food really been a dominating theme of this journey? Haha...the snugness of the pants says, “Yes!” But the satiated appetite says, “Who cares!”

Adjacent to Pike’s Market, Cutter’s resides directly on the Bay offering gorgeous views of the water and the Olympian Mountains towering on the other side. Popular is an understatement. 

The chicness of the inside doesn’t hurt either, nor does the outstanding quality of the food. Ushered in, we are sat in a table that overlooks the Bay just as the sun is about to go down. Rays or red, yellow and orange streak across the water. The horizon is splashing with color. The mountains are saying goodnight in all of their glory. What better place to dine? Not only are you stomachs being filled, but your eyes are also getting a feast. The ordering process begins with the help of our waiter who promises the best fro friends of his cousin. First of all, we all order bowls of the smoked salmon chowder, followed by an appetizer of spinach and king crab dip. Are you allowed to be in love with chowder? Fresh and creamy and topped just right with dill, the soup is mouthwatering. Perfectly portioned chunks of smoked salmon fill the hunger from the earlier hiking adventure. Instantly, it is a hit with everyone. Next, the spinach and king crab dip! Mmm mmm mmm. Satisfying? Definitely! King crab in a deep? How can you go wrong?

For our entrees, we have a selection of sushi, grilled fish of the day, salads, and one last order of fish and chips.  Nothing disappoints. My sushi roll especially hits the spot. After so much fried food over the last few days, raw fish seems like the perfect antidote for the body.

No celebratory meal is complete without dessert, and so despite our stomachs inching close to being full beyond measure we order two desserts. 

Hey! Celebratory dinner, people!

First, a Chocolate Delight, voted Seattle’s top chocolate dessert in the entire city, elicits raves from all four of us even mother who declared before the plate arrived that she didn’t like restaurant cakes because mine always tasted better! (Gotta love a mother’s pride in her child!) Finally, we savored a key lime pie, the perfect tart finish to cleanse the palette after so much decadence!

Oh! a buzz goes around the restaurant. The actor Joshua Jackson is sitting at the bar with a group of his friends. Apparently, he is filming a television show in Vancouver and is in Seattle for the weekend. My curiosity gets the best of me, and I casually walk around the bar to get a glimpse of him. Yep! It’s him, sitting there in a plaid shirt laughing with six guys. Can I now officially say I’ve dined with celebrities? Kind of...sort of...well regardless I am going to say it. After all, we picked the same restaurant, did we not?!

What a way to end our trip. Merrily, we exit into the brisk September air. Taking in gulps, I savor every breath, every smell. All five of my senses are buzzing tonight. I am content. I am excited. I am happy. 

Isn’t that how you are supposed to feel after a vacation?

Hmmmm....

Until next time.

~ Happy Traveling. 

Portland...redeemed by food

Portland, Oregon

September 26th, 2009

Day 10 of Pacific Northwest Journey

Now in the light of day, I shall face my greatest fear: a city of hipsters, homeless, and outrageously scary performers. 

Ok, yes, I’m being overdramatic. I mean seriously, I am being outrageously stereotypical, and no true traveler is allowed to be stereotypical. A traveler must be open-minded, must be willing to go and try things. Qualms and prejudices only hold the traveler back. They don’t hurt the person or place that is feared or sneered.  So! Here, I am bold, brave, and ready...(I think) to take on Portland. 

First things first, Portland is home to the largest independent bookstore in the world. Powell’s Bookstore, in one word, is a behemoth!!! Seriously. You can imagine it all you want, but unless you actually walk into it, you really have no concept of how massive it really is. Walking in, you are instantly hit with the smell of literature. That old musty smell of pages and pages pressed together fills the nostril inside the warehouse. For that’s what Powell’s is: a warehouse. The shelves start at the door, and don’t stop. The areas are color-coded according to their genre. Blue, red, purple, green, yellow, orange - history, fiction, poetry, science fiction, puzzle books, children books, biography, textbooks; anything, you can think of, is here spread out over the four floors. Powell’s is unique in that it buys your old books, cleans them up, and then stocks them on their shelves. So while browsing the lovely author of choice, the shopper has multiple price ranges to choose from. What’s really cool about this is, you have the possibility of finding a book in a certain edition that you might be collecting. I find complete collections of Edgar Allan Po well over one hundred years that someone has returned, complete history collections of various historians, various presidencies, books that are no longer in print. It’s awesome! This is a book lover’s heaven! I browse through the travel section where a manual  for every inch of the planet is available. There are also bins devoted to maps and pictures that date to the early 20th century. This place could easily take an entire day of our time.

However, there is more than books in this city, and this not the heart of the city. The speed and feel of a city cannot be found in a book store. It is only truly found in the streets and among the people. 

But right now, we must make another stop; it’s lunch time! By the recommendation of my handy dandy guide book, I have chosen a Jewish delicatessen called Kenny and Zukes which is conveniently only a few blocks over from Powell’s. 

As we are walking toward our lunch, a hippyish chick with a giant tattoo of a dragon on her arm calls out to Travis, “Hey, I like your boots.” He says thanks and we continue on thinking nothing about.  On the corner, sits Kenny and Zukes with a line of people trailing out of it. Always a good sign! We give them our name, and are over the moon when they call it after only fifteen minutes. The deli reminds me of something that might be found in New York City. Little tables smashed together, waiters buzzing around, guys behind the counter yelling out orders with pencils behind their ears and white hats on their heads. For a starter, we order the traditional potato latkes with applesauce and sour cream (Jewish potato pancakes) which are huge and absolutely outstanding.  They are fresh and crispy and fried...My arteries are going to quit on me after this adventure. We all decide on different  kinds of sandwiches, like pastrami on rye, a reuben dipped in Russian dressing, corned beef and fresh roasted turkey. My eyes double when the plates are set in front of us! The sandwiches are HUGE alongside the crispiest french fries ever and the necessary kosher dill pickle. This trip hasn’t disappointed yet in the food department! The meat is all fresh, cured and seasoned in house. The fries are cooked perfectly. We finish with a Jewish dessert of rugelach which is a tiny cookie full of cinnamon and nuts.

Mom decides to give our leftovers to the first homeless person she sees, so she asks the waiter to box up all of our uneaten sandwich halves. 

Outside, we run into dragon lady and some of her friends again. This time, she tells Travis, she likes his hair. Again he nods and says thanks. Mom takes this opportunity to give our sandwiches to the gentlemen who are sitting on the ground taking all of this in. They ask her for money, but she tells them she’ll only give them a sandwich.

While watching the transaction, I see Dragon lady telling Travis that her dragon is hungry. 

Again the nod. 

We are still waiting on mom and the sandwich.

Then here it comes, “Would you like to pet my dragon? He’s really hungry.” She asks under her black eyelids.

“I’m all right thanks.” Travis nods.

My mom walks up, “He’s married, honey! And I gave them a sandwich.” She looks the girl over, “Oh, I like your black boots.” Mom exclaims.

“Yeah, I told him, I like his boots and his hair.” She points at Travis again.

I lean over to Penny who is chuckling at the whole exchange, “I think the chick has a thing for Travis, or maybe her dragon does who knows.”

We are laughing and walking hoping it will pull mother out of the exchange. She loves to take every possibility to talk to as many people as she possibly can. Homeless hipsters in Portland are no exception.

“Mom, we have to go to the market!” I call after her and she comes on. But the dragon lady’s memory lives with us for the day. 

The next place on our list is the Saturday Market (named for it’s set up on Saturday; however, it can also be found on Sunday) which is an outdoor market of every kind of craft, clothing, or artistic endeavor imaginable. The market is next to the park and abutted to the river that divides the city of Portland in half. Again, we aren’t very far so we decide to walk. Mom sees a group of people gathering to our far left and takes off. “There’s the market!” She yells. 

She joins the line of shabbily dressed people who all oddly have shopping carts and are heading toward a chain link fence. On the other side, I can see trailers with goods and boxes spread out all over the place. I know that can’t be the market because we aren’t close enough to the river yet. 

Penny is following after her and soon joins her in line. I am desperately scanning trying to figure out what these two are about to enter when I suddenly put it all together and realize, “MOM! Stop! Come back. That’s not the market.”

“Yes, it is!” She calls back, “Look at all of the goods!” 

I scurry over before she can get behind the fence,“Mom, that’s the merchandise acquired from the AIDS walk. Those goods are for the homeless.” We had seen banners all over the city promoting the walk and the giveaway for the infected and homeless.

“Is it really?” She asks looking through the fence.

“Mom, look at the people in line. Penny!” Penny is about to enter. “This isn’t the market. The market is farther down.”

Finally, they realize and start laughing. “Hey, we were about to get free socks!”

Farther down, we reach the market.  Street performers line the street again. There is a little boy banging on buckets for a mock shift drum set for tips, there’s a man with a hook for an arm playing the guitar and singing, there are also many evangelists doing street ministries here which is very encouraging. Everyone needs the gospel! This city especially needs Jesus Christ. You can see the pain and hardship on everyone.

Indian saris, wind chimes constructed of forks, ships in bottles of every size, frogs shaped out of glass - it’s all here. I have been to several outdoor markets, all over the world, but this one here in Portland is especially artistic as a result of the nature of the city. In the center, is a roped off section dedicated to food and beer consumption. Savory smells are wafting in our direction; however, given our humongous lunch we are in no position to eat. 

But, we are in the position to drink coffee! If you haven’t caught on yet, I am usually always in the mindset to drink coffee.

Portland is Seattle’s younger brother in the coffee kingdom. He isn’t developed enough to be an empire in his own right quite yet, but he’s building his army of coffee stations slowly and carefully. The best equipped (and most famous) is Stumptown Coffee Roasters. With my opinion of Portland being low thus far, I am desperately hoping that their coffee will change that. Entering Stumptowns, it’s almost what you would expect from the Portland crowd. Like Powell’s, it has the warehouse feel. I’m in a brick-walled, vast room with the coffee bar on my right, a stage for musicians in the back corner, and chairs and tables lining the entire left wall. Local art decorates the wall. The overall air is far from pristine. It’s a place to pop in, grab your coffee, check your computer, head out. There is no lavishness; there is no indulgence except for what’s in your cup or what might be playing on that stage. For Portland, also has a music scene...go figure.

Travis and I order, sending mom and Penny to grab us seats on the vacant low sofa near the back. The barista is snappy and to the point. Hurriedly, we order; Travis and I sticking to our extra hot mochas, still in the mode of comparison. Our coffee mugs are overflowing with foamed leave designs and whip cream around the edges. Mmm mmm, my opinion is altering...just a little. 

Rich and decadent, the coffee absolutely makes up for the lack of lavishness. Perhaps all of the richness is subtracted from the interior to be condensed into one little mug?

Having walked most of the day, we decide to make this our little respite for the day, afterwards we are going to return to the car and drive over one of the eight bridges that link the city to the other side of Portland to check out Hawthorne Street - a street full of eclectic shops from designers clothes, to the $1 Shack to antique stores. Hey, there is always time for shopping, is there not?

The Dollar Scholar is our first store where you guessed it: everything is under one dollar. It’s basically a store full of junk...but there’s something fun about it. I want to exercise my $1  right and buy a bumper sticker for a friend back home that says, “Make Portland Weirder.” This will be by far the cheapest thing of the entire trip if you discount the free water that comes with almost all of your meals at restaurants.

There is a fine food market that we explore and end up sampling all kinds of fancy cheeses with green and black peppercorns. We try Tillamook cheese from right here in the state of Oregon. We try blue cheeses, cheddar cheeses, brie cheeses. One compliment I can give Oregon? Fantastic cheese products! Next up, we hit the antique store where mom finds a couch she really wants to take home, have recovered, and put in our living room. Only problem is, we are on the other side of the country, so getting it home may be a a tad difficult. We reason with her, and we continue on with promises of looking for a similar couch back home. 

The designer store has a jacket I really want, so I go through trying on every size only to find out that the small size’s arm lengths aren’t long enough, and the medium is too bulky. Don’t you hate it when that happens? 

Next to it, is a huge thrift store with every kind of piece of clothes imaginable. Penny and I decide to have fun and indulge ourselves this afternoon and try on every jacket on the rack. Fur coats, zebra jackets, floor length trenches - none escape our grasp. We model in front of the three sided mirrors adding hats and gloves to our outfits while Mom speaks to dad on the phone, and Travis explores on his own.

Finally exhausted and evening quickly approaching, we head back downtown to have dinner at the oldest brewery in town, Bridgeport Brewpub and Bakery. That’s another thing Portland is known for, Beer! There is actually a group of people that want to change Portland’s official name to Beervana! So beer, strip clubs, and hippies. No wonder me and this town aren’t quite lining up.

Bricked and modern, Bridgeport, however, has a little elegance to it which I am pleased about. The pub is two stories with a modern set of open stairs leading up to a bridge connecting two sections overhead. A giant clock hangs on the wall at the top of the stairs. While Penny and Mom get our table, I take off to explore the decor. The upstairs is sleek with another sports bar, more dining seating, and a balcony. 

Our table ends up being downstairs in a communal room next to the open kitchen. We have the pleasure of watching all kinds of delicious food coming out. We decide on a tapas style dinner and order spinach dips, hummus, quesadillas, chips, chicken, and an array of the in-house brews. Being we are back in the States, I have to stick to the food since I haven’t quite yet crossed that twenty-one divide. Once again, Portland redeems itself by food. Everything is without reproach. First Kenny and Zukes, then Stumptown’s coffee, and finally now Bridgeport.

So my comment on Portland? Come extremely hungry and spend every second eating. 

 We toast our day, (I’m holding a glass of water). As bizarre as it was, I successfully made it through the city of Portland and walked away with if nothing else a pound or two...

The 1 OH 1!!

The 101 - Washington and Oregon

September 25, 2009

Day 9 of Pacific Northwest Journey

The light is beaming in through my bedroom window, and onto me where I am lying in one of the comfiest bed I had ever had the privilege to lie in. That sunshine however is signifying that it’s time for me to get up. It’s time for me to start again. After last night’s adventure and me being completely drunk with happiness, it goes without saying I slept pleasantly in this lodge we are staying in Port Angles. The Olympic Lodge is a gem in this tourist town. The rooms are gigantic, clean, and beautifully decorated with a woodsy  feel and natural colors. The pool, hot tub, and full golf course are perks outside, while the inside lobby boasts a roaring stone fireplace surrounded my oversized brown leather couches. This is my kind of getaway. Food is first on the agenda! Mother and I decide to indulge in the cooked-to-order breakfast downstairs. We order oatmeal cooked in Washington apple juice with brown sugar, fresh blueberries and milk on the side. Heavenly!!

But we don’t have time to linger, we have the longest leg of our journey in front of us today. We are driving down the entire coast of Washington, over into Oregon, finally ending up in Portland. 

Just outside of Port Angeles is Hurricane Ridge, a 5300ft high viewpoint of the Olympic Mountains and the city below. We have decided that the slow, winding road will be worth the views at the top, and wow are they. We are above the clouds, and eye level with the mountain ranges surrounding us. Meadows and hiking trails offer either peaceful respites or sweat inducing hikes. All 360 degrees of our views are breathtaking. The colors ranging from the bluish mountains to the yellow flowered meadows are a beautiful contrasting palette for our eyes to feast upon. We are so overcome by the beauty of God’s nature that Travis recommends that we stop and pray and thank God for our journey, for each other, and for His beautiful nature that we are so blessed to partake in. It’s a memorable moment...praying there on the precipice overlooking the mountains. A bird flies by, and like him my soul seems to take flight as well.

At the bottom of the mountain, we are embarking once again on the 101 which will take us all the way down into Oregon. But first things first, we need coffee. One of the coolest things about this area is that there are little coffee huts by the road everywhere! Tiny little structures with nothing inside but an espresso machine, thirty-three flavors, and small, medium, and large cups. For a coffee lover in a hurry, this is ideal. Of course, to the coffee connoisseur, I have to wonder will the coffee even be any good?

I mean what kind of beans are they using, what quality of milk are they steaming? To my surprise, my vanilla latte is actually quite good, and I hear no complaints from the other three over their coffee orders, so here is a toast to you coffee huts! Love your concept, love your coffee!

The drive is beautiful, but slow as I explained in my previous entry the condition of the 101. We pass the gorgeous lake again, zip through Forks almost so quickly, it’s shocking that this little place is a national icon. I must admit, it looks nothing like I imagined it to be. The picturesque small town? Negative.

But moving on...I’ve covered enough Twilight for my entire blog’s history. The road snakes in toward the land and glimpses of the water disappear. We are in open fields with a 55mph speed limit...a true test of one’s patience. In the back seat, Mom and Penny decide to take a nap, so Travis and I settle on Sirius/XM’s Chill station and enjoy the winding road in silence. 

Have you ever heard of Kurt Cobain? Sure you have...brilliant musician, lead singer of Nirvana, married Courtney Love, committed suicide because he couldn’t handle the fame. His band was one of the one’s that came out of Seattle’s grunge scene. Well, he was from a little town called Aberdeen which we are driving through on our way south. Driving through this town with a population that hovers only around 16,000, it’s amazing to think that someone like Cobain came out of here. The houses are small and run down and the town looks like it’s been hit hard with life. The odd thing is, Aberdeen is the largest “city” in this area. It is the economic center of the surrounding Hoquiam and Cosmopolis. I thought I lived in the middle of nowhere with not much going on, but this place here might just have my area back in North Carolina beat. But what this area loses in activity and population, it makes up in surrounding natural beauty. We are right next to the Gray Harbor which leads out to the grand Pacific Ocean. Something interesting to note, the ship Lady Washington’s home port is here in Aberdeen and she was the featured ship in the “Pirate’s of the Caribbean,” the Curse of the Black Pearl. There are so many hidden gems along this road, it just takes a little looking into, a little exploring. 

The 101 creeps back toward the water again and we are rewarded with gorgeous views of Willapa Bay. It’s going on mid afternoon, and we are starving once again. Our breakfast and coffee from earlier is long gone. We grabbed snacks at one of the convenient stores to hold us over because we knew there wouldn’t be many options between Port Angeles and Astoria, the first real town over the Oregon border. Astoria has a film history believe it or not. The Goonies was filmed there along with movies like the Kindergarten Cop. The town’s picturesque views located directly on a major river is what makes it so popular for the small town feel kind of movies. 

Before we reach it however, we must cross the Columbia River Gorge. The water spreads out before us. The Columbia is no small river; it is the official marker between Washington and Oregon. As we drive across the lengthy bridge, at mid point, a sign welcomes us to Oregon. We have now covered two countries, an Island, and two states on this trip. 

Pulling into Astoria, we head for our dining stop: the Ship’s Inn, the recommended place for true fish and chips. According to the guide books, this place is fresh, hot, and delicious. No complaints, there.

The inside feels like the inside of a ship with everything decorated in nautical tones. There’s an oar, an anchor and a ships’s steering wheel. Nautical rope and fish nets drape the walls. This place could definitely use some redecorating.

The food however is just right. Mom and I order and share bowls of clam chowder and fish and chips. Travis and Penny opt for something a little different and get the seafood selection: a variety of shrimp, scallops, clam strips, and cod with thick sliced chips. I smother my plate with vinegar and indulge, for I know once this trip is over so is my indulgence in all of this deep friend food.  My arteries need to attend a health spa.

This is where our drive truly starts to get beautiful. The 101 begins to now cling to the side of the cliff that overlooks the ocean.  Below us, trees give way to sand that opens up to the gorgeous deep-blue Pacific Ocean. My wonder at it still hasn’t faded. Its beauty is shivering. The rugged Oregon coast is not disappointing in the least. It’s everything and more for your eyes to feast upon. 

Now, of course, I couldn’t come all this way and only look, I had to get out and feel the sand between my toes. What better place to do that than Cannon Beach? Known for it’s idyllic seaside town with cottages right on the sand, logs available for building a camp fire, and Haystack Rock, the third largest one of it’s kind in the world - it’s basically calling my name!  Once again the sun is just beginning to set as we arrive in Cannon. Two days in a row, I get to watch the sun set on the Pacific! God is good to me!

This beach is very different from La Push. To say this one is more pristine would be a grand understatement. This beach may be one of the prettiest beaches I’ve ever beheld. My goodness this trip is getting a lot of “bests” from me, but that’s what the Pacific Northwest will do for you: deliver the biggest, the grandest, the best.

Slipping off my shoes, I spin and run around. Perhaps I’ll never grow up. Perhaps I’ll never lose my fascination in all things beautiful, but is that such a bad thing?

The rock out there in the ocean is a natural reserve for birds. PUFFINS!! Tufted puffins nest on the rock in the spring time. Obviously, we are in the wrong season for the puffins; however, the rock is smothered with white cranes and other birds swirling around. Cannon Beach seems to be not only popular with the human population, but also with the bird population as well. Perhaps it’s their vacation destination of choice?

The beach stretches onward to my left, hills with clouds hovering ominously overhead are on my right. Darkness is beginning to seep in with the sun dipping below the horizon. Families with their dogs are coming out to roast marshmallows and sip hot cocoa, and I can’t help but long to stay despite the sudden drop of temperature as a result of the absence of the sun.

But you know the story...time to move on.

Longingly, I head back toward the car, but not before declaring to every one of my companions that I will definitely be returning to vacation here. 

Portland, Oregon, however is now calling.

I honestly don’t know what I expected from Portland. I had heard four things about Portland: great coffee, bicycle friendly, Powell’s bookstore, and apparently it is the home of the most strip clubs per capita of anywhere in the United States...interesting. The coffee and the bookstore appeal to me, but obviously I could go without the other two. I had a feeling that the vibe would be earthy, hippie, free spirited - not exactly my type, but I was trying to keep an open mind.

By the time we arrive in the city, it’s dark, and although there are plenty of street lights, it’s still difficult to maneuver through a new city. I had read about a place called Voodoo Doughnuts located downtown Portland, and I thought it would be something interesting to close the night out, our little sweet treat for the day.

Travis turns right onto one of the main streets downtown and we are chattering away when all of a sudden lights beam in from behind us.

“Is that a train?” Travis suddenly asks.

My heart stops. A train? But there wasn’t a sigh for a train, and we weren’t on train tracks.

“THERE’S A TRAIN BEHIND US!” He yells.

The three women immediately whip our heads toward the back, and sure enough there is a train speeding toward us. 

“GET OFF THE ROAD!!” Mom yells.

But we can’t. To our right is a sidewalk ladened with people, and traffic is coming at us from the other side.

“HOW DID WE END UP ON TRAIN TRACKS??” Penny is questioning him. 

We are approaching an intersection but it’s a one way street going to the left, and we are on the right. Travis whips the car right, just as he notices there are three police cars sitting on the other side of the road

But all of a sudden the lights disappear and the train is gone. Turning around, we see that it turned down the street we had just come from. I know there were no train tracks on that road.

We all take a deep sigh of relief, and Travis pulls back onto the road praying that one of the police officers doesn’t decide to pull him for pulling in the wrong way on a one way street.

“What was that thing? Was that a train?” Penny asks.

“I don’t care what is was. I’m just glad it turned. I didn’t see signs for it or anything, did you guys?” He asks us.

We all shake our head.

“I thought we were dead,” I laugh softly. Now it’s funny. Thirty seconds ago not so much.

Recovering from our shaken dispositions, we find Voodoo and park across the street. 

Entering into the throng of people, I immediately know I’m out of my comfort zone. 

We are in the grunge, the hippie; these people would eat my little sophisticated self 

alive.

The tiny square bit of a store is dim and packed with people lining up for doughnuts of all shapes and flavors imaginable. No, seriously use your imagination. Use it BIG time. There are shapes that I won’t list here. The flavors range from Cap N’ Crunch covered doughnuts to apple fritters, to maple with a full strip of bacon on top. I had never seen such doughnuts or such service people. The man behind the counter terrifies me with his super long beard and many pierces. Asking him for a recommendation is a mistake, for obviously little me was asking for a sarcastic remark. I settle on an original with creme filling, mom gets a giant fritter, Travis gets one with some kind of cereal on top, and Penny chooses one with bacon. In a circle outside, we pass around our doughnuts tasting and savoring each one. 

I have to admit, they are extremely sweet and extremely good.

Flame throwers, gypsies, street performers, homeless, and hippies are wandering around me cackling. My eyes bulge and I’m suddenly nervous.

It’s time to put this southern girl to bed; I’ll attempt Portland in the light of day...

~ Until Tomorrow

Olympic Peninsula: a ferry, Forks, a rain forest, and a glorious night!

Port Angeles - the Olympic Peninsula - Washington

September 24, 2009

Day 8 of Pacific Northwest Journey 

The best way to start the day? Breakfast at a local bakery! It’s an absolute necessity! Early this morning, mom, Penny and I force ourselves to roll out of bed all in the name of coffee! Travis decides that he will forego our bakery run and get thirty minutes extra sleep instead...well each to his own.  

Willies Bakery is a locally owned and operated bakery that offers everything from fresh baked muffins and scones to full breakfast plates. We get coffee and a selection of goodies like their cranberry orange muffins...mmm delightful, and hurry back to our hotel. I know it sounds like I’m rushing, but we kind of are...we have another ferry to catch and I don’t want today to be a repeat of what happened in Vancouver. Especially since the next ferry that leaves Victoria for Port Angeles, Washington - the next leg of our amazing road trip - isn’t until 3 this afternoon! Yes, this ferry is a do or get left behind situation! Not that I am eager to get out of Victoria, I mean we only got here yesterday, but time says that we must. Travis is up and ready to go and we hand him his large extra hot mocha - he needs his fuel being he is our driver. Luggage in the Flex, we are ferry bound! This time the situation is a little different, the ferry is actually only five minutes from our hotel so we don’t have to cross a monstrous city to get there, thank GOD! So we arrive in plenty of time. However, the checking in process is a little more hardcore. Remember, we are heading back to the United States meaning we have to go through immigration and answer all of the national security questions. 

We are shockingly cleared from the possibilities of being a terrorist and board the ferry promptly with time to spare. I even get a stamp on my passport causing a surge of giddiness to shoot through me...ahh the joyful effects of the travel bug.

Today, we are crossing the Strait of Juan de Fuca, and we are completely engulfed in fog! I have once again braved the deck and everywhere I look is nothing but fog. The eeriness is overwhelming. Every five minutes the foghorn blows warning any other vessels that have braved these treacherous waters of our presence. The bow of the ship is blocked off and two shipmates are ordered to stand watch. The wind is whipping causing the air to feel icy cold. I quickly give up my martyr’s watch and head inside to the warm cabin where Penny and Travis are sitting. Mom is taking advantage of being back in the United States already and is on the phone with my dearest dad who I can tell she is beginning to miss.

Penny and I discuss our amazement of the fog and our plans for today while Travis reads. All of the windows look out onto nothing but a blanket of white. It’s almost as if our boat has been wrapped inside of a white cotton ball. 

LAND! LAND! The temptation is too much and I am back out on the deck, the fog is dissipating and Port Angeles is coming into sight. The bow is cleared for observers and I can’t help myself and rush forward. Port Angeles with mountains seeming to stand guard in the distance slowly glides into view.

Our plan today is to drive to Forks, Washington, then onto the Hoh Rainforest and finally explore La Push beach where I will be seeing the Pacific Ocean for the first time! That’s the plan, but we are pushing against the daylight.

Somehow, despite our gps being plugged in and ready to go, we take the wrong road and end up exploring Port Angeles’s marina, and eventually end up at a lumber yard.

Remember! When you are traveling, you are never lost, you are simply exploring...

Finally, we strike out on the 101 - a two lane road with an average speed limit of 60mph. This should be interest. The road is littered with timber trucks as our journey has landed us in the middle of logging country. Lake Crescent comes into view causing our four jaws to drop. The dramatic scenery is intensified by the sharply curving roads and the tight hug of the lake. Fifty-five miles per hour suddenly doesn’t feel so slow on this narrow road with camper vans coming at us in the other lane only separated by a double yellow line. I trust Travis’s driving, I do, but I just don’t know about these other individuals on the road. They can be a bit dodgy. 

A BIG sign that says, “Welcome to Forks!” tells us that we have arrived. The 101 goes through the center of town, where there’s a hardware store, a diner, a few motels, and a store called Dazzled by Twilight (we’ll get there in a minute),  and then before I know it, we’ve passed through town in all of three minutes flat factoring in the stop light. 

For those of you who don’t know (and really you would almost have to be living on the international space station not to know - Travis even knows and has watched the film twice much to his chagrin - sorry to make that a public fact, but it’s part of the story), Forks is the home of the international phenomena The Twilight Saga. Yes, this one street town is where Bella supposedly meets Edward and the fairy tale ensues. If only this was real life...ahhh

To say that this town has profited off this franchise is an understatement. Before, Forks was simply known as a logging town, but now it’s the home of TWILIGHT!!!! Something that screaming tweenagers, teenagers, and yes, even me...want a little part of. Everything has been reworded, rebuilt, redesigned to have relevance to Twilight. So much so that it’s a little creepy! The Dazzled by Twilight store is a start. Inside is a tree with a Bella and Edward heart inscription on it, surrounded by every kind of t-shirt, bumper sticker, backpack, and lunch box imaginable with Edward, Bella, and Jacob’s faces plastered all over. The motel signs boast Twilight-themed rooms, the hardware store has a sign saying that this is where Bella supposedly works, the diner has pictures, and the town celebrates Bella’s birthday and the school hosts a Twilight-themed dance! Oh yes. 

Penny and I check out another store where we both swear the clerk is trying to become a vampire. He is super pale, unnaturally pale, and has yellowish contacts in. Apparently he and his sister moved all the way here from South Africa to become a part of the Twilight craze...so yeah...we hurry out but only after Penny purchases a pair of fangs...she couldn’t help herself, and they were only $.50! Which makes her happy. Travis has already returned to the car to read his book, he feels that he cannot in good conscience explore this Twilight-crazed town. There is something inside of him that prevents him from wanting to even look. Mischievously, Penny slips the fangs in and runs and knocks on the driver’s window. He jumps up and yells, and we can help but burst out laughing. The vampire craze is even getting to him now.

We wave goodbye to Edward and Bella and continue south to explore the Hoh Rainforest. Now you’re thinking a rain forest this far north? Rain forest usually brings images of tropical birds, poisonous snakes, swinging monkeys, and ridiculous heat! But, rain forests aren’t only located in sweltering heat ranges close to the equator. Here, in the Olympic Peninsula, the Hoh Rainforest can be found and is classified as a rain forest due to it’s annual twelve feet of precipitation. An amazing change of scenery in one day, if you ask me. We’ve gone from the British-infused Victoria, to the fog blanketed Strait of Juan de Fuca, to the vampire crazed town of Forks, and now, we are headed to a rain forest. What a day! And we aren’t even finished yet.

Entering the park, I am overwhelmed by the green. Everything is in every shade of green imaginable. It’s different from Mount Rainier National Park, it’s different from Whistler, this green is a brighter green, a richer green...an edible green? After parking the car, we reference the little map we were given at the entrance station, and decide upon the Hall of Mosses Trail. The name speaks for itself.

The very first thing we come upon is a pond with green seaweed littering the bottom. The sun is beaming onto it perfectly between the trees, ducks are paddling around; its so picturesque it’s almost unreal. Climbing further up the trail, we happen upon giant trees with branches reaching in every direction completely wrapped in moss. It’s breathtaking. Again this reminds me of something out of Tolkien’s world. It’s almost as if Tolkien stirred this up in his mind and then spat it out, took a paint brush and finished off all the little extra moss touches. Of course, we know that Tolkien didn’t imagine this into existence rather God did. And again on this trip, I am overpowered by the beauty of God’s nature. He did this, and He did this so beautifully, so creatively. There isn’t a single detail he seemed to have left out. Rather, he paid intricate attention to each and every detail. It’s awe-inspiring and humbling. 

The next trail, we venture down is the Spruce Nature Trail. A sign warns us of the dangers of elk. Apparently, there have been elk attacks in this park in the past few months. The poster warns that they are temperamental and should not be looked directly in the eyes. Interesting...in other rain forests, you have to watch out for snakes, in this rain forest, it’s the elk! Penny and mom instantly begin discussing what we should do if we actually do come across an elk. 

I am split. 

A big part of me would love to see this creature in it’s natural habitat, but the sensible side of me doesn’t want to be pierced with its sharp antlers. Good enough reason, I’d say.

Colorful mushrooms litter the ground around us, saplings are pushing forth for new life, fallen trunks are decaying back into the ground. Everywhere I seem to turn there is a feast for my eyes. Turning the corner, they catch two fallen logs lining our pathway. The urge is too great, so I hop on and quickly run up to the top. My plan is to get to the top on one and attempt to jump to the other until a voice rings out in the forest.

“Don’t even think about it!” Yep...it’s mom.

“What?” I spin around asking her.

“Don’t get hurt. Not here.” She replies sternly.

Well, ok, but I do get her to smile for a necessary photo. These trees are too luscious to pass up.

The Hoh River comes into view, and Penny and I take a respite on a log bench and stare out across the water...still no elk, we muse to ourselves. 

The break is cut short with the sun racing to set before we get a glimpse of the Pacific Ocean. Piling into the car, we encourage Travis to hurry, we actually have to go back up to Forks and then cut west to the Quileute Indian Reservation. Like a miracle from God, just as we are driving out of the park, Penny catches sight of an elk...two elks standing proudly in the water below. I am thankful that we are safely in our car and not within charging range of these beasts.

My anticipation is building, growing stronger and stronger by every mile we cover. For you see, I have never in my twenty years seen the Pacific Ocean in person. This will be my first time, and what better time than at sunset? 

Passing into the Indian reservation, we see a sign that reads, “Treaty Line - Werewolves only; no Vampires!” I can’t help but laugh. Sure enough, the Twilight theme has spread all the way out here.  The road begins to hug the tree-lined forest and then suddenly the trees break, and I gasp as I catch the powerful, magnificent Pacific Ocean! Giant, rock haystacks are piercing out of the deep-blue water, the sun is setting in pinks and oranges on the horizon, and I am overcome by the beauty. The reservation is sadly run down. A lot of money could go to use here in refurbishments. It is amazing to me that just over the hill lies one of the most beautiful sights in creation. We park the car, and I hurry over the hill, down the tree strewn beach, racing to the waters edge. I have to be careful in my descent as the tree stumps can be slippery. My eyes soak in everything, savoring ever color, every figure. The Pacific seems greater, vaster than the Atlantic, the colors seem richer. The haystacks stand proudly in the distance, birds fly overhead, the sun is going to rest now on the horizon, and all seems at peace in the world. Giddy like a child, I run around the beach picking up pebbles to throw into the water. Penny and mom are standing at the top of the hill not wanting to brave crossing the washed up tree trunks, but Travis joins me in my joy. Penny finally can’t stand it any longer and joins us on the beach. We laugh together as we celebrate my first Pacific sighting as the moon comes out and graces us with her presence. Mom is wary up on the horizon. She isn’t sure about the neighborhood behind us, but that’s what moms are for, to look out and pay attention to the greater details when their daughter’s are too caught up in exalting moments.

Of course, I know that this could all be given over to the fact that is new in my mind, but regardless of it’s freshness in my sight of things, I am loving, or more like adoring every single thing around me, and this night will go down as one of the greatest nights of my life.

~ This is why I travel to experience exalting moments like these.

Until Tomorrow...