Spring Break April 8: Outdoor Adventures

At 3 am, light dosing became restless awakening when the yard was visited by a furry and feisty pair of somethings. The noise started out as rustles and progressed into aggressive ____-fighting; they were certainly not cats making those noises. I listened for about a half hour as they duked it out, wanting badly to pee but really not needing to find out what critters were in such grumpy moods. They stopped then, but my sleep was hopelessly lost. Finally at four, I heard Alice stir as though she had been faking sleep for some time and I nudged her gently. "Hey, can you not sleep either?" I pestered.

We had been planning to get up early and drive to Point Reyes just north of San Francisco a must-have nosh at the local bakery ("My dad is so silly," she had said the other day. "He's like 'now you know me, I don't do bakeries! But this...'") and Aliah and Paz already knew we'd be gone before they woke up. We'd only be looking crazy to ourselves.

By 5:30am, we were on our way to breakfast. Diligently keeping with the trend of poor time estimation, it was good we had. I probably could have bypassed San Francisco but going over the Golden Gate bridge felt like a must. We may have hit rush hour traffic but then again, I'm pretty sure it wasn't much different from any-hour traffic here. Plus, we got bonus morning glow.

The bakery wasn't hard to find on the one-street town of Point Reyes Station. It was the hot spot for well over 20 bike riders, all crowding the doorway in neon gear and coffee cups. We weaved through the athlete obstacle into Bovine Bakery. While Alice ordered, I gawked at the decor of hand painted coffee mugs and folk art before finally laying eyes on the pastry window. 

I got a Vegan Whole Wheat Raspberry Scone and while I was paying, a slightly dazed looking woman came up beside me to talk to the cashier. "I'm sorry, I think I took one of those mugs for drinking. Are they not for drinking?" They were indeed sale items and she apologetically handed it to the cashier who nudged it back her way. "Go ahead and finish first." She gulped and asked "How do I get to the water?" then turned to me "I'm looking for the water. I just got here." I was feeling rather chipper and talkative and god her we were looking also. In the small cafe, we caught wind of how to reach the nearby National Seashore. But first thing was first: food. Alice had gone ahead, eager to munch and I went out to join her and find a park that had the invaluable public restrooms as well. The woman followed me. "I'm looking for a bathroom too!" She was carrying a large black bag and I wondered at her story as we walked to the park together. Bathroomed and seated, I learned her name was Casey. It wasn't always Casey but she liked Casey. She was in town with friends that weren't good friends. She had disability and felt unrecognized for it. And she recycled for her work. And picked up trash. She actually seemed like a well versed activist from talking to her and talented as well - she sang and played guitar. But this broke off on a tangent about a partner that had screwed her over and her wisdom and poise was overshadowed by a reactionary resentment. She had a personal vendetta out for this guy and although I managed to talk her into a bit of a smile or thoughtfulness here and there, I could tell that this was something that was slowly eating all potential she had at a brilliant life. At least for that morning though, I could share warmth. And she shared with me, information on an annual festival that I may have to check out in Hawaii one day.

Once we'd parted ways, Alice and I decided we should drive out to the Seashore. Apparently this area was known for that. Not, surprisingly, a bakery = P

The road took us about an hour out through valley hills and grazing cows - perhaps the bovines of the bakery. In the parking lot, a ranger explained to us what we had stumbled upon. There was a lighthouse a short walk away that was not open for touring but still worth a look. Then, he said, if we headed back the way we'd came and veered off a road to the right, we would find the Elephant Seal nesting grounds. "For free?" I asked, as the last time I'd tried to see seals, this Coastal Tourist trap wanted to wrangle $40 out of me.

Controlling our excitement about seeing seals, we thanked him and meandered around the nearby overlook for a bit before heading towards the lighthouse. The overlook was fairly high but we could make out small specks that we supposed were seals and someone said they saw a whale spout in the distance. While I didn't catch a glimpse, I'm sure they were in our midst. It was migration season and Grey Whales were making their way back up the coast, Northbound on their 10,000 mile migration routine. The population had been steadily rising back up after a huge decline between 1850-1940 due to increased hunting and Point Reyes was a hot spot to view them, being a part of the NOAA's 150,000 square miles of US marine sanctuary.

We had been told that the winds can get pretty intense right out at the point but we were fortunate enough to receive a day of perfect weather. There was some thick fog that covered the view further out, but even that was impressive, making it look like we were at the edge of the world. As we neared the lookout for the lighthouse, a giant cement dome appeared to the left. While Point Reyes is surrounded in water, the annual rainfall is significantly less than inland so fresh water was always a scarce commodity for light keepers. The dome housed a large cistern that was placed to collect runoff from the rocks further up and in. This water had to be enough not only for drinking, but for the steam powered generator that worked the lights since the machinery couldn't afford to be contaminated with mineral deposits. During droughts, workers would sometimes have to buy water from those inland.

I took a few minutes at the lighthouse overlook to try and spot a bird called the Common Murrer which was said to frequent the rocks below. They sounded like rather nifty creatures, having mad-agility skills and cleverly shaped eggs that had developed to keep them from rolling off rocks. I saw neither. But this meant it was time for Elephant Seals!

The first parking lot we saw was packed full but the road beyond it seemed sort of uninviting. It was narrow, with very few pull offs and as I inched down, a couple walking up ahead kept looking back as though to say "what are you doing with your big wheels here?" It did however turn out to be a road and much closer to our destination.

Had we had more time, there was a wildflower hike to our right and an old Coast Guard home to explore. Since 1889, the coast guard had had a strong presence in the area since it was so isolated and many ships had no help to call for. A nearby sign shared their ominous motto: "You have to go out, but you don't have to come back."

We carried on to cheerier matters: I remembered Elephant Seals being one of my mom's favorite creatures and I was excited to get some photos to share. They were the most ridiculous things ever! Because males and females migrate separately, the eccentric proboscises of this mostly-girl group were not as pronounced but their voices had us not wanting to leave. While we stood there, we hear a symphony of sounds ranging everywhere from pig grunts, to odd horse sounds to off-key opera singers. They had quite the tonal variety. I texted Mary excitedly and got back an "ewwww." We finally had to pull ourselves away and get going to our next stop.

I was surprised I hadn't heard about Muir Woods when I was down in the area before. I had just a slight obsession with the man since first reading a description a couple years ago, of him sitting in trees during blundering storms in order to understand how they feel. Travels In Alaska only boosted my affinity. The drive down was another windy one, changing quickly from valleys and coast into rocky dried-up lake area. I didn't realize a big a thing these woods were. Over a mile before the entrance, cars were already appearing lined up on the road. As it turned out, Muir Woods shared territory with the Dipsea trail which hosted the first ever trail race in 1905 and continues the annual race to this day. Another thing to add to my list of things to come back with more time for.

As our schedule allowed, we only had time for the shortest loop, a boardwalk trail along the Redwood Creek. As I meandered through, I felt like I could have stayed there for hours. Small trees extended out of old, fallen limbs and spindly vines wove elaborate designs around them. And even with the short time limit, there was a lot to learn about the woods. Despite the sun-blocking brunches of these trees, the plants that keep the forest floor such a lush green had learned to adapt in some interesting ways. One of the more prominent plants no the walk was Redwood Sorrel which has developed such sensitivity to light that it actually folds its leaves in to hide when it is too sunny.

It was difficult to imagine this populated, up kept trail to have been the wilderness that Muir so very much thrived off exploring. But even more difficult to imagine way before that. The area of these particular woods had first been occupied by the Miwok peoples who called the tree tc-ole. It was not until 1769 when missionary Father John Crespi ventured to the area that the name Redwood was coined. The scientific name, Sequoia Sempervirens came even later in 1847 as a way to honor the Cherokee scholar Sequoia. Of course, how many are aware of that? I wasn't

I also didn't know there were so many kinds of Redwoods. Over 100 million years ago, over 40 varieties of Taxodiaceae were spread throughout the Northern Hemisphere. Today there are only 14 varieties remaining. These woods would have been lost as well if private owners William and Elizabeth Kent had not handed over the woods to the government in 1908, preventing a water company from buying them out for a dam. With help from Gifford Pinchot, they put in a recommendation to Theodore Roosevelt that the woods be named after their friend John Muir.

The reason we were pressed for time was because Alice's friends were hosting us in Berkely and we'd needed to get a hold of them by 6 or so. Reception was no where to be found near us. We probably wouldn't have survived much longer anyhow; it had been a long day.

In Berkely, we were given a warm welcome by her dad's friends and told to make ourselves at home. They even insisted I drape my tent inside their kitchen to dry out. Alice had been unsure about our stay, feeling as though we were intruding. This made it feel like both of us were entering equally unfamiliar with the people. That was odd but as we chatted, the awkwardness wore off. They had just gotten back from a trip themselves so we didn't occupy their time long. Once we were unpacked and introduced to our real bed, I ended up writing, staying awake much later than planned.


Its funny how one almost gets more tired when there is less going on.

Spring Break April 6-7: Cruising down to Santa Cruz

My car sleeps two pretty comfortably. Alice was still sound asleep when I awoke so I sat out on the beach and wrote a short while. We were aiming to fit in a small hike in the Redwoods and make it down to my friend's in Santa Cruz that day.

We hadn't really plotted out which hike we wanted but it seemed like the bulk of our options were in the Prarie Creek area just south of us. As our car weaved back into the trees, Alice's eyes grew wide; these were the trees you think of when you think Redwoods. The trails were more well-marked than I had remembered and we found a sign-map with all of the distances and difficulties marked. Cathedral Trail was a moderate loop that boasted some of the largest of the area's Redwoods. This is where the markings began to meet my expectations. Keeping a close eye on the mile markers, we reached the mile that supposedly marked the trail head just as we reached a clearing. There was a sign for a campground to our right and only after we had pulled in down the road did we discover the small visitor's center tucked behind the trees. The only sign I could see was for the Foothills Trail, one we had considered but seemed comparatively less interesting. We were about to give in to our second choice when a park guide came around the corner. "I'm sorry guys, I'm not open for another half-hour." I stopped him and asked how on earth one finds the Cathedral Trail. Apparently, this was not a silly question. "Yes, you'll find most of the signs in here serve the purpose of trying to get you lost." As it turned out, it was only after beginning the marked foothills trail that you would come across a diverging sign for Cathedral. 

It was a beautiful hike. Starting out with some four-legged trail buddies, the path first wove down past an Eastern stream, letting the morning sun in through the gaps and illuminating the vibrant green mosses coating everything in a thick blanket. Then it curved inward and and upward, the trees towering monstrous around us. Many of them stood in tight clusters, reminding me of a sort of Ent family, giving them a sense of clan-ship.


Later at the visitor's center, I asked how old the trees were, which led to an interesting answer about their formation. He explained that while most records average trees at about 700, scientists still have no way of knowing the actual age of a Redwood. This is because they grow by dropping seeds on fertile soil that is in direct contact with their root system, sprouting new trees out of themselves. Every cluster is an original tree and its generations so that, if you were to add the ages of all the generations, you would find an original tree that is over 2,000 years old. 

The trail was a perfect length for our time-crunch - about 2.5 miles. Just before the last stretch, we ran into a man named Joe from Alaska who had just had hip surgery. It was his birthday and he was on his way down the coast to meet up with some friends in central California. He asked us about the difficulty of the trail and then transitioned to his camera, handing it off to me to go pose in front of the enormous Sequoia on 'display'. He wanted to make sure I got every angle, first on his camera and then on his phone. When we got to the phone, Alice noticed that he had a Panorama option which drew out even more enthusiasm. He was astounded when we showed him a picture getting the top and bottom of the tree in the frame and so we taught him how to use it. Then he insisted it was our turn for him to take our pictures so I passed my camera off to him. At the end of our mini photo session, he gave each of us giant hugs and kisses and called out as we began to walk "remember girls, it's all just a love story!" 

"I mean, I've met friendly people before. But not necessarily huggers...or kissers!" said Alice. 

"That's my kinda people."

We hit highway 1 sooner than I'd recalled from my last trip down. My recollection thus far had not been very impressive. Not surprising though, I suppose, given that I was in a flustered post-car-crash state of mind back then. The winding road was much more tolerable without having that added fear that my car was being held together by Zip Ties. But it was still just as windy. When we broke out onto the coast however, Alice saw why it had been worth it. She gushed the whole way down and I was in equal bliss until I started to realize we may not have enough gas to get us to the next gas station. Soon, we were praying to the gas-guzzling gods as we turned every bend, hoping there would be something just out of sight. With the empty light threatening me, we made it to a one-stop shop in a place that wasn't quite passable as a town. The rickety store had a sort of 'Nantucket-shaped' porch with a rusty metal gas pump balancing on its edge that looked like an elementary art rendering of R2-D2, equipped with knick-knack ornaments. Not surprisingly, gas was $5 a gallon. Obviously, they could afford to do that, given we probably were not the first to have the predicament that we did.

Loading up just enough to get us the next town over, we left feeling much calmer about scenic joy-ride. When we stopped for gas, we also stopped in a store. As I was waiting for Alice by the car, a disheveled woman in the parking lot was yelling across the street at a man looking even more in disarray. "Are you gonna come help me with these groceries?" The man just mulled about on the other side of the street. "Fuckin' really? You fucker!" This went on like this as Alice made her way back to the car. When I filled her in on the yelling, she was taken aback by the scene. Unfortunately, I realized, these exchanges had been a part of my daily environment growing up in the fray of the reactionary, emotional culture of road dogs and rats.

After spending the last few hours zig-zagging and winding in spirals, my arms were tired and my legs were wired…and I’d mis-estimated again. Back on the big highway, we blasted some Shakira and pepped up the mood for a bit as the faster speed made me feel like we would be at our destination in no time. However, once we hit our first traffic congestion, I was over it. It was just time to be done driving. But we still had a couple hours. We did at least manage to arrive before the sun was gone. 

I had done my best to prepare Alice for my eccentric friends but I knew that no description would adequately describe their enthusiastic and sometimes overwhelming presence. It didn’t take long though, for this be brought to light. Before we could even begin to unload, Aliah was ushering us into her room to play a sample of her latest artistic endeavor, beaming with the calm, whimsy-sticken approach to life that she always seemed to maintain even amidst unexpected turns (which happened a lot for her). Her husband Paz had himself locked away in the room next door, busily cutting and matching audio bites for their album. In mid topic about the sensations that Aliah was aiming for in her music, we suddenly found ourselves transitioning to our astrological natal charts. Talking on multiple levels simultaneously was her specialty as well as taking on multiple projects. On the astrological front,  Alice and I had agreed to have readings done for us as part of an application that Paz was in the process of designing. I used the break as a chance to suggest that she look up our information while we get unpacked. We headed out to the backyard where a tent was supposedly set up for our use. However, it had been recently used by another guest who was not so considerate and sloppily hidden under a sweatshirt, I found a nice smudgy puddle of puke. “Well, dive right into the fray,” I thought as I threw a sort of apologetic look towards Alice who had not been privy to my discovery. “What’s up?” She asked. “I think we’re gonna set up our own tent.” I told Paz, who had actually known and had meant to pick up earlier before getting sucked into his project. While he tackled the funk, we unpacked and set up camp. Once we were settled, we grabbed some food and chatted inside with Aliah for a bit about AmeriCorps and working with the kids. Before we went off to bed, we tried to carve out a good time the next day for us to get our readings. I would be in the morning before we went out on the town and Alice could have hers done once we returned. 

Like I said, unexpected turns are thematic here. That inevitably includes a constant change in plans. Really, plans are a non-existent concept. 

Our day started with a lot of waiting and a lot of Aliah's passionate drive to impart wisdom. Paz needed to get in his morning walk before we could do anything so Aliah had the time and space to be inspired by a million and one ideas and concepts to share. She demonstrated her hormonal blend, a morning routine she had graciously shown me when I had last visited but to a disinterested acquaintance, just looks like a lot of gargling and swooshing and exaggerated movements. What she was most excited to show us was a series of Qi Gong/Yoga Flow movements designed especially for working with youth. I recognized quite a few of the movements and was thrilled for the mini presentation, as I had been thinking of ways to incorporate this sort of thing for the kiddos throughout the year and here she was with a straightforward approach. She understood my apprehension about kids that may not be open to the full origin of the poses and gave helpful suggestions on how to present it in layman's terms that can be comfortable for all. When we got to 'Punch the Air' she said "The kids love this one. Just be sure to emphasize that it's the air, not one another." I haven't had the opportunity to use the sequence yet but we may be starting a structured activity day at the gym on Saturdays and I think it would be well-suited for that. 


After our mini educator's lesson, She wanted to give us exercises and affirmations. I could feel very apparent waves of antsy-ness (it was getting rather late into the morning) and we still hadn't started my reading. Fortunately, Paz returned around that time. He took us upstairs for an introduction on his approach to astrology and then Alice returned to Aliah's company while I went on video for a good couple hours. I found the project to be fascinating. Instead of throwing a bunch of jargon your way and telling you what times would be most suitable for what sorts of actions in your life, Paz presented each planet in a simple, open-ended way that allowed for more of a conversation about you as you understand you. Through that, one could begin to gain an understanding of how those views are manifested in one's chart. For each planet, Paz first described the defining characteristics and thematic elements. He then asked how we saw that planet in our lives by either describing a memory or a tendency we have towards that behavior. Then he had us rate the planet's theme on: Importance, how much we are a creator of that planets energy and how much we are a consumer of it. At the end of the session, he addressed any major life situations that needed clarification and asked me to give a small testimonial for the project. I was captivated by the conversation and how much my answers designed my reading. It was really a testament to one's inner knowledge of their authentic self. But as engaged as I was, I could hear faint rumbling in my stomach and an even louder inner-cry from down below as I imagined Alice having her ear talked off. I came down ready to expedite the process of getting out of the house. Aliah had some time to play a bit of a tour guide and so we all went out for lunch at a place called Dharmas. 

Aliah described it as THE only place to eat and after one visit, I can't say I disagree. They had absolutely anything and everything. One could eat there for a month and not get through the whole menu. And their dishes were HUGE. As a treat for hosting, I paid for Aliah and I to share a salad and Tofu dish and we still had enough leftovers for meals over the next couple of days. In the same lot, was a Goodwill that Aliah was fond of and the idea seemed to perk Alice up and so I immediately agreed. Of course, I left with more clothing than I need, that number being zilch. 

Midway through the afternoon, we still had a lot on our wish list of things to do. Aliah wanted to show us a Buddhist Garden that was "a photographer's dream'' and Alice was dearly clutching to the vision of city strolling and beachfronts. It had also been mentioned that Lee Holden - the man who's videos my mom first used to introduce me to Qi Gong - had a class that night. I had completely forgotten that he was Aliah's regular teacher. So that was enticing as well. In the heat of the day, it was easy for Aliah to convince us that the beach should wait, so we began our hunt for this garden. It ended up being tucked away, far from any recognizable neighborhoods or streets.

Land of the Medicine Buddha turned out to be not just a garden but an active Buddhist Monastery and retreat center. At the entrance to the grounds, there was a large, spinning carousel-shaped structure. I had never seen a prayer wheel before and as I looked at the building pictures of the thousands of mantras tucked within its layers, I was mesmerized. Tibetan Buddhists believe that these holy spires were given to beings called Naga to deliver to the human beings as a healing tool. Further in, they had more, smaller wheels and even in one of my less reflective states, spinning them washed an immediate calm over me. Nearby, they had written suggestions of mantras to chant for given dis-eases and struggles or simply for continued compassion. 

We had begun an ascent to reach the Large Buddha when Aliah realized she'd had to be back almost 20 minutes ago for a cleaning lady. She was about to let it slide but I was desperate relieve Alice and so I insisted she should probably get back - we didn't mind.  By the time we arrived at the house, I'd let go of the idea of Lee Holden and turned the day's events over to Alice's hands. We changed and got well-instructed directions to easy downtown parking from Paz. 

I got a kick out of this obstructed view

With some time to ourselves, I checked in and apologized for such a long, unexpected day. Her response wasn't complete disdain - she'd found their animated character to be endearing - but yes, it was a lot of wearing social time. Fortunately, the city was quickly easing the tension and I admittedly enjoyed a break and a chance to see what downtown Santa Cruz looked like. I'd never been a window shopper so I didn't know what I would do downtown, but it had felt odd to be in such a city and not have any sense of it. And I did end up finding enticement. We browsed until near-sunset and I acquired some postcards, some unique herbal novelties and a pricey pair of the coziest pants I have ever worn. My sensory overload and social flurry was kicking in and we were losing sunlight when at our last store, Alice subtly tried to nudge me along. We had heard the beach was a 10 minute walk away and a pretty straight shot. Turns out, finding a damn ocean can be hard! We made just in time to catch the mid-setting glow. All smiles now, we fooled around with the camera and dipped feet in icy water and breathed out the intensity of the day. It was in these moments that our companionship thrived, rambling on about pasts and childhoods and quirks we wouldn't have imagined one another having. 

We stopped at a co-op on the way back and arrived too late for Alice's reading. Their son Zach had a friend over in his separate little garage house but Zach had been in a funk so his friend ended up hanging out on the porch with us for a bit instead. About an hour later, we went in to say goodnight to Aliah. She began to say she that it was unfortunate she couldn't go over one of the affirmation handouts she had given us and, feeling sensitive to Alice's tolerance, I jumped in to end the conversation, saying that was okay, I was familiar with a lot of it already. This did not actually end up speeding up our "goodnights." Aliah squared me in the eye and very calmly but harshly explained that this was a problem for me - thinking I know all and shutting off to teachings. She actually had a point there, but this was not one of those moments. I just wanted to let good nights commence. Once Alice was in the tent, I went back inside and Aliah apologized, giving me a chance to explain myself. 

This was the most challenging day I think, for the both of us. For Alice, I had immediately started to gather that the way the day was unfolding was not going to be ideal for her. For me, it presented an interpersonal and introspective construct of journey to add to this geographical journey. I found a whole bunch of inner qualms about myself, my agreeability, my ego, my role as a travel companion. From moment to moment, I was observing my inner calm and checking myself to keep perspective and enjoy the harmonious aspects of our travel and personality traits among these challenges. Yet even so, it became a sort of puzzle for me to figure out what peaked her enthusiasm or if I was in the "right or wrong" for judging her perspective of seeming to always be looking at the "next step". In learning about our different comfort levels with "hosting", I began to challenge my own beliefs about the Global Community. Staying in another's home felt intrusive to her whereas I'd always seen it as a gift to be able to host someone. Was I just naive? Is it selfish to be so readily accepting of one's willingness to help? One is always prone to thinking their philosophies are superior and our experience was making me keep that in check. Overall, the day was an exercise in neutrality and balance. 

But who ever said growth and challenges can't be joyful?

Spring Break April 4-5: Outings in Oregon

Flash back to the beginning of the month. I am having trouble sleeping. I am sidetracked and cleaning my house a dozen times over, shuffling and re-shuffling things. I am looking at maps.

Spring break is almost here.

When my teammate Alice had made a casual invitation to come along on her and Nora's trip to California a few months ago, I felt excited but apprehensive. I wasn't sure about trekking my poor car back down to California - a state it didn't have a good track record with anyhow - when I would be taking it cross-country again in a few months. I was also feeling the typical financial pressure I plague myself with from having parents that won't tell me when or how to start giving them money for pretty much paying for my life thus far. (Oh woe, first world problems.)

But all it took was a phone call to my mother humbly expressing my doubts and she was endorsing to adventure, for better or worse, always playing the role of giving me more leeway than I give myself.

And so I unleaded the enthusiasm. My traveler was not going to sit this one out.

In the following month, Nora managed to land a sweet teaching job at the community college, officially competing with our resident team over-worker Corey and thus, had to bow out of the plans. But on an early April Thursday evening, pretty much packed and ready to dash in the morning, Alice and I cracked open a couple ciders that I'd appropriately saved from an odd lake-side find on a walk we took a month or so back. We clinked glasses, said cheers, and said goodnight. We wanted it to be morning.

As my general rule of thumb, stores with cool murals
are worth checking out

Our first stop was a visit to Manzanita! It happened to be Mindi's birthday weekend so we stopped in Portland to try and find a gift. On my many co-op trips, I'd passed by this store called Mirador that seemed promising and not wanting to lose ourselves in the endless possibilities of Portland neighborhoods that's where we headed. It was almost too good a choice; the possibilities in the store alone were endless! Most everything seemed like a Mindi thing. After some advice from the woman that had kindly opened a few minutes early for us, we left with a Washington-made foot scrub and a beautiful local card made out of a fine sheet of wood veneer. (I received a raving text a week later from Mindi, having made a visit to the store while in town for her weekly Greek classes; lucky lady is spending the summer in Greece).

Is it a Broccoli? Is it a Kale? Is it Delicious?
I know one of these things. 

We met at her house and all piled in one car to go get lunch at Wanda's, proclaimed by Mindi as "really, the only place to eat" in town. Afterwards, Alice got a sample tour of the area. We visited the community garden, looking far more forlorn in its pre-bounty than it had all of the summers that I had been around. However, there were still some bolting mutant brassica cross-breeds that were delicious munchibles.

A bouquet of Nom that Mindi made me

Birthday girl - 'Second-mom' - and I 

Giddy first-day-of-travel faces

After that, we headed to Short Sands, stopping for views all along the way. 

We showed Alice the giant tree that almost fell on someone when the area was a campground. I gushed about berry varieties that would come to coat the forest paths and pointed out the small cove at the end of the beach where we would watch sea stars and urchins during the low tide. It was fun to have someone to show all of the wonders that Mindi had introduced me to. On the beach, we gave my mom a call so she could say happy birthday and enviously imagine us on the ocean (since I'm pretty certain they were still buried in some sort of snow flurry at that point).

It was slightly chillier (read: a lot) by the time we neared
the woods so I scavenged some last-minute laters from
Mindi's car.

A then and now repeat-pose from my first visit to the tree in '11

The afternoon was quickly passing and I'd given up the possibility of making it to our destination - Eugene - in time to see the first art walk of the season. However, Alice had mentioned her love of cheese and so it seemed obvious that the Tilamook Cheese Factory was a must-see stop. We got there with a good hour before closing. There was a lot more to the building than I'd ever imagined from passing by. I suppose it made sense, being the only thing in Tilamook. Past the merchandise; much of it far from cheese-related, and the wafting smells of fresh ice cream, we made our way upstairs to the free self-guided tour of the factory. I have never seen so much CHEESE (duh). The blocks that they started out as on one end were probably a good couple of cubic feet, whittled down at each stage until they were morphed into tightly wrapped wedges spinning around on some octopus wheel ride. Alice made a shocked comment about the waste as we watched tunnel-visioned workers take mere seconds to determine the shape quality of a cheese block and toss the inadequate candidates to the side, sometimes hitting the floor instead of their spare buckets.

 Being the slightly zealous food purist I am (purist being tongue and cheek with my double standards and all) I watched the clockwork below us with a bit of dystopian cynicism. All around me were facts like this:

"Each of the eight stainless steel cheese vats holds approximately 53,000 pounds of fresh milk. On average, each vat makes three batches of cheese per day. 

It takes 10 pounds (1.16 gallons) of milk to make 1 pound of Tilamook cheese. More than 1.7 million pounds of milk arrive at the plant every day. Approximately 167,000 pounds of cheese are made each day."

These were coupled with strategically-shot videos of "happy" cows that were very obviously not free-roaming and long-written praises on "finest quality farm equipment and high productivity", a sure sign that cow happiness was not a top priority. Nonetheless, the 'bootstraps' story was impressive, beginning in 1894 with a man named Peter McIntosh and his cheddar cheese recipe and replacing the butter business that had been Tilamook's prior specialty. It has since grown into a national industry that affords top scientists to analyze milk cultures in ways I don't understand for premium quality. And those vats were rather daunting as I imagined the process of filtering they had to go through to separate the solids from the milk etc. So when it came time to tasting, I employed my double standards and swallowed my pride along with a nice little cube of pepper jack. And a lick of Alice's Cookies n' Cream. "Hey, maybe all of those factory scrapes go here, to the cheese tasting bin," said Alice. "That makes sense," I hoped. 

Pressed for time, I didn't get to discover what this token bus symbol meant, but it made for a cool picture. And now looking it up, its apparently part of the Loaf Love Tour movement. Literally a cheese tour, spreading their cheese across the country like a wandering musician. I wonder how the cows feel about their lactation claiming their fame. I joke, I joke. Mostly... :)

As we left the Cheese Factory, I checked on the travel time to Eugene (well, springfield). The surprising calculation that my phone gave me characterized the nature of much of our week's travels; we were still almost a good four hours away. This was about double my estimate from my recollection. Time to book it. 

I had been in communication with our hosts, prospecting that we would be there at a reasonable time for dinner but as we lost sunlight I began to worry that we would be keeping them up. I had met Tucker over the summer when my farm buddies and I had ventured to the Oregon Country Fair. The extent of our friendship was two bus rides, a few fun fair photographs and complementary Facebook exchanges hoping that we might be able to get together again sometime. He and his wife Kira openly welcomed the idea of Alice and I coming to spend the night but I think we had all hoped it would entail visiting time as well. Fortunately when we arrived, they did not seem too perturbed and we continued to stay up with some wine, chocolate and their menagerie of animal companions for a couple of hours before sleep took over. It also worked out that we had not in fact, missed the Eugene festivities. Kira told us about Eugene's Saturday Market and we found out that the next day would be the first one of those of the season. In the morning, Kira had had to be up and gone before I even awoke, having her incredible own business as a horse farrier to tend to. But we had time to kill before the market began at 10 so Tucker visited with us a bit more, as we talked more about the ambitious novel he is working on based on his Military service and had passionate discussions about equal rights and the patriarchal agenda, his views of which were highly relatable and contrary to what one would typically have been surrounded by in the environment of the armed forces.

We gave ourselves plenty of time to find parking, wanting to hit the market early and then hit the road. Finding a spot was easier than we'd anticipated, but the machine did not seem to want to let us give their city money (how unfortunate). No signs indicated that it was a free parking day so I manufactured my own employing notice to Eugene and we were on our way.

 Yes, I've seen plenty of art fairs and markets in my time and sometimes they feel redundant, overflowing with the latest trend in artistic experiments and clothing. But this one felt different. I think part of it was the size. It wasn't too overwhelmingly large so one could take in each individual booth without feeling like they'd just seen more of the same around the block. Our first stop was the food court where I got some fresh Ginger Carrot soup and my favorite Indian food indulgence, Naan. Well-fed, we made our rounds. In the back of my mind, I kept feeling like I should be gift hunting but only ended up leaving with a few things for myself, a small freebie that I may gift and some business cards for future reference.



The booth I ended up treating myself at was Kendra Grace Designs. Kendra was a rough-edged, glowing woman with a ratty top hat who had surely been a traveler in her earlier years. Her young son - an equally vibrant little man dressed Oliver style with a spurtly blonde mow hawk - immediately introduced himself (after asking clarification for what an introduction was). It was that trademark recycled-clothing look that caught my eye (I always want to buy these sorts of things and always know that I will be disappointed by the price tag) but it was my affinity for her personality her love of photography and her unique variation on the art that won me over. After talking for a bit, I opted to purchase one of her smaller pieces - a cloth bracelet with a polaroid photo transfer saying "Of Earth". Debating between that and a magnet of the same image, she threw in the magnet for free.

If I'd had more money in my already nonexistent budget, I would have been a patron of many more vendors at the market. This Sign-Language-based Jewelry had unique expressions of common and uncommon messages. Chris Pender had cleverly transformed his dissatisfaction with the limitations of the Life board game and come up with an amusing and fully functional parody (or reality, really) which I will still probably be buying at some point.

And then, across the street at the Farmer's Market section, we learned that we should have held off on the food court! There were dozens more specialty food artisans serving fresh Pasties and vegan pastries and warm tofu dishes. Next time I will know better. I did however, indulge my fermentation fanatics with a jar of Spicy Kimchi from Activation Foods and some freshly ground hazelnuts from Honor Earth Farm, having wanted to experiment with hazelnut "flour" for a while.

Leaving with bags full and wallets emptier (at least we returned to a ticket-free car) we began our dissent into California! Traveling with someone else, I was already participating in more fluff and pomp than usual and so when we stumbled upon the 'BIG THRU TREE' Tourist trap, I bit the bullet and we diverged from our route to check it out. I hadn't noticed that we could walk up to the tree for $1 as opposed to the $5 we paid to drive but then we got the (wow) experience of putting a car in a tree. Meh. It was a thing to do. And they had emus across the street, so that was...a thing.

 Getting back on track was more work than planned. At first, I forgot we'd left our route at all and kept on down the off highway. Once we were turned around, it turned out we were off route anyhow so we had to drive back to Grant's Pass to find the highway. Eventually we found our CA welcome sign. As we stopped to take a picture of our achievement, I took the opportunity to go pet one of these richly colored trees that had begun to appear alongside the road for the last stretch of Oregon. They had the smoothest, softest under-bark I have ever felt and much of their bark was shedding in papery patches. I am still on the hunt for the name of this mystery tree, so someone help me out!

Driving on, I recognized a small campground and store up ahead and new that the trees were about to morph into Redwoods. However, we entered near Jedediah where the trees were not the most immaculate of the bunch and Alice was somewhat unimpressed. I didn't blame her; I hadn't found this side of the forest too enchanting when I'd passed through. But I knew what was yet to come.

We didn't make it there that night though. By the time we drove into Crescent City just past Jedediah, sunset coming on fast. We couldn't decide what we wanted to do about sleep - try to find a cheap camp site or stealth away in the car - so we thought on it while venturing to the park to stretch our legs. The city had a nice pedestrian set-up along the water which trailed along thick patches of spongey, alien sea-flowers (for yet another lack of a name). It was a much needed stretch for our legs but our indecision remained. We finally just decided to drive and see where we were in an hour.

Where we were was the road. Still. But a pull-off that ducked down by the beach seemed like a nice, unnoticeable place to stash the car. I had been apprehensive because I had never been able to find any clear-cut law about Overnight car-parking in the state (I am still unsure) and having someone else along for the ride, I felt more responsible for offering a hassle-free experience than I would have if I were alone. Fortunately, hassle-free we were. We munched and shared some ciders by the beach and finally tucked ourselves in for the night, windows cracked, breeze blowing, and waves washing the mind into dreams.