September 8, 2008

I pulled out at 0615 to a mostly clear sky with the sun just starting to rise over Mt Baker. Mr. Shuffle, my 80gb i-Pod Classic was sending us off with Nanci Griffith letting me know how much she missed “The Banks Of Lake Pontchartrain”. After a few turns the voice in my new Garmin GPS got truly annoying with “recalculating” when I wouldn't go her way. I think I know how to get out of my driveway and down to the border. In short order I pulled over and found out how to turn her voice off.  Somehow there is a metaphor in there about some relationships, but I shoved that thought back into the dark, where it belongs.

After an hour’s drive, and a fifteen minute wait at the border, I made it to the Border Agent. As I outlined where I was headed she was almost incredulous that I was heading on this adventure by myself. I didn't blame her. But being alone is something I'm comfortable with, especially after so many years practice. You don't really get used to it, but you do come to terms with it. You have to.

I was safely across the frontier with Eddie Rabbitt telling me about his Repetitive Regrets and for the next 6 hours it would be all Interstate southbound!

Two hours later I was on the outer edge of Seattle. By now I could switch off Mr Shuffle. I was close enough to get one of my favourite radio stations without interference. KWJZ is a smooth jazz station that plays some of the genre's best music. It was a helpful and soothing background to navigate through the maze of Seattle freeway exits I didn’t need. Once I found the Express lanes south I was in great shape. A wonderfully smart person realized that some people didn't want to get off the freeway and only wanted to pass through, so they dedicated two lanes in each direction for through traffic.

Driving on American freeways is a guilty pleasure. I admire their ability to merge, not tailgate, and demonstrate courtesy. It is a civilized experience. Every exit is telegraphed by big signs miles ahead of the exits. The speed limits are geared to the road and the roads are engineered and maintained for that limit. I was enjoying being in the presence of these people.

The KWJZ signal was fading as I pressed on, and by the state capital of Olympia I had to give up. Now I had to find a clear frequency for Mr Shuffle's FM modulator unit. Large population centre's pose a big challenge as almost all frequencies are used. I would have to change frequency several times over the next hundred miles to get my music fix.

I stopped for tea just south of Olympia. A quick Venti Awake to go from Starbucks, a pit stop, and some car side stretches to get the kinks out. I'm not getting the same number of miles to the stretch as I used to.

And so it went, miles and music, music and miles. Tumwater, Napavine, Mary's Corner, Chehalis.

I left the I-5 at Kelso, Washington. This is where I need to cross the Columbia River to join up with Oregon HWY 30 so I can turn west, to the coast. Mr Shuffle gave me a shot of Chris Botti’s Light The Sky as I began the climb up and over the Lewis and Clark Bridge. I smiled. Originally from Portland Oregon, Chris Botti has helped to revive Jazz as a popular music genre. This was only the first of many such music tracks/tricks Mr Shuffle would play on me as these days, and miles, progressed.

I drove into Astoria around 2. I have never been to Astoria, at least not that I remember. But driving into town I was faced with a rather bizarre vision. I was looking at the road, with a bridge in the distance and town buildings to either side. It was very familiar. I looked to my other right and a saw a school a couple of blocks up the hill. It too was familiar. Not just a little spooked, I turned left to try and find the school and see what was causing this. I found the school and as I drove by I thought I had it but I had to turn around to truly understand what was so bizarrely familiar about this. The school, the street, the view of the bridge. BANG!!!!! Kindergarten COP!! It was the school, and the street from the 1990 Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. Hadn't seen the movie in years but that one shot stuck in my mind. Sometimes I am surprised by the amount of trivial “stuff” I store in what passes for my mind, but this was a real cake taker!! I took a couple of quick pictures and then booked on out of there. A middle aged man taking pictures of an elementary school in the middle of the day could easily be misconstrued by an anxious parent or teacher.

I spent an hour at the Columbia River Maritime Museum. This would help me understand much of the history and development of the Oregon Coast and the Columbia River. The CRMM has some fascinating displays of early exploration and discovery. It's a bit thin on the Hudson's Bay and Northwest Company contribution. It has a heavy focus on Lewis & Clark, shipwrecks, fishing, and Coast Guard Rescue Swimmer activities. It also has a Coast Guard Light Ship you can go aboard (included in admission) and a Light Buoy.

It was here I learned of the 4 masted, but steel hulled, Peter Iredale and how in 1906 it came to run aground a few miles up the coast. The wreck still sits, rusting in the sand, at Fort Stevens State Park.

This shipwreck development smacked of adventure so I get back in the Buick and check with Nav, silently, on the best route to Fort Stevens and the shipwreck. She is being petulant and takes her time, an extra ten seconds or so, as she asks which Fort Stevens I want. Seems there are a couple of different parts to the park.

Driving through downtown Astoria is not hard, but is challenging. HWY 30 runs right through town and there are a lot of short blocks making the right lane choice more of a guess than fact. The various exits are well signed but guess wrong on the lane and you're on a new adventure in a new direction.

My sense of direction suffered a lapse. I was headed west but thought that was wrong, but I kept going trusting Nav to be right. I reminded myself about “journey, not destination”. I wasn't in any real hurry but my workday mind is all about deadlines. Real vacations involving real relaxations are a foreign concept for me. If I was to get anything of real value from this “vacation thing” I had to find a way to turn the work brain off. It was something I would struggle with all week.

I found Fort Stevens State Park but only because Nav was right in her directions. After that it was all about reading the Park signs directing me to the shipwreck. It's actually on the signs as “SHIPWRECK” with arrows and everything. After two wrong turns I made it. In Oregon when you see a sign directing you to something with an arrow it means turn here, NOW, not at the next driveway. I was beginning to understand what humble and humility are. These are not traits that are big in my workday world.

My first view of the Oregon Coast was a “jaw dropper, walk stopper”. I have not seen anything like this, ever. Click on the pictures and get an idea, then get on a plane and go see it for yourself.

There is nothing that can prepare you for all the elements. Hard packed, fine grain sand. Broad beach, with dunes and seagrass. Wind, constant, not cold but just right. Birds just floating. Para Sails. The sounds of people are lost on the wind. Life, Love, and the state of the Economy could all be contemplated here without interruption or intrusion. The beach was not by any means crowded, but even if it were it would be easy to be alone here with nothing but your thoughts. Sharp, sparkling reflections off the blue/gray water. Real waves. And quiet, primal sounds of wind and surf.

Off to the right is the shipwreck. The rusted hulk of the bow all that's left after a century of the sea, sand, wind, and tourists climbing all over her. Later I will learn from a local that you can see more of the wreck now than you could 20 years ago. Beach erosion caused by climate change.

After a half hour of soaking this up and taking pictures to preserve my often defective memory, I see it's 1530 and I should be on my way to my overnight stop of Seaside. I would love to stay longer but the day is wearing on and I'm getting tired. I have been awake since 3 a.m.

Nav guides me south on Hwy 101 to my hotel. I am staying in Seaside for two nights at the Comfort Inn and Suites, and will use it as my base.

I check into the hotel and go for a brief walk through Seaside. It's clear the town is in transition. Whatever it used to be I get the impression they are trying to become more family friendly. I see a sign that will forever endear Seaside to my heart. A sign that declares downtown Seaside as a “Drug Free Zone”.

I buy a book at Tenth Muse Books, "Attack Poodles and Other Media Mutants". It's a look at the proliferation of talking heads/experts we see too many of on News Channels and the “Grand Dame” newscasts. I love it when books skewer TV News.

I walk the couple of blocks to the beach. The beach at Seaside has tall rock formations to the south and a broad boardwalk that runs along a sandy beach the length of the town. The boardwalk is liberally sprinkled with benches so I plant myself on one for a while and just stare at the cloudless sky, and the almost setting sun. For once I have no thoughts, ideas, or pressures. I feel an empty mind. I'm not sure I like it.

I stroll the the back roads on my return to the hotel. On the way I pick up a six pack of an Oregon beer, Mirror Pond Pale Ale brewed down the road in Bend, and some peanuts.

On the recommendation of the desk clerk dinner is at a place called Girtle's, a block or so from the hotel.

Steak and Sautéed Prawns with Baked Potato. The steak is good, the prawns fabulous. They are sautéed in Sherry with red onion, garlic, and mushrooms. Something to try at home sometime. A couple of local Droptop Amber Ales and I'm done.

I slow walk back to the hotel, settle in with a couple of Mirror Pond Pale Ales and few chapters of Attack Poodles, and have great night’s sleep.