"...risked it all upon the sea, to make a better life." *

As you can see, I made it to the coast.  Hunter S. again diggin' the sunset.  He seems to have decided that this is his primary responsibility as my one and only crew member; diggin' stuff.  Must be nice to never have to drive or pay for gas.

Spent the next day on another hike, with Al and Sandy both.  Along Fall River this time; no vertical climb today, but the mature second growth Lodge Poles and clear-blue stream provided plenty of sensory reward, and conversation was easy.  And we did a lot of that; all through the day, into the evening and over a fantastic dinner at Joolz, a "middle east meets wild west" restaurant in Bend -which, by the way, is a really cool town with lots to offer foodies and ranchers, musicians and farmers, and connoisseurs of every persuasion.  It's also a boom town that got hit hard by the collapse of the housing industry, but still... very nice place, and located very nicely. Sort of like a dry side Eugene.  (I bet that will piss some people off in both towns!)  And we continued -yak yak yak- until one by one, we fell to exhaustion and hit the sack.

Now lest you think this was simply a side effect of my having no one but a stuffed toy and myself to talk to for days on end, I will tell you that it's always like been like with us.  I reckon it has more to do with our being very close at a considerable distance. Odd concept I suppose, but quite true, at least in my case; though separated by many years and miles, these lasting friendships -all seeded in "those college years" as it turns out-  have held fast.  And so, when the rare play date is arranged, the hours together become very precious.  After all, there's a hell of a lot of catching up to do. 

Next morning, after another of Sandy's nice homemade breakfasts (German pancake this time -with special hot peppers from New Mexico that I don't think the German's would approve of, but that I heartily did) it was "to the sabBatmobile" once more. Headed northwest  out of Madras on route 26, which cuts right through the Warm Springs Confederated Tribes reservation.  Which is where I met Joannie, hitchen' to Portland to see her son, wheelchair bound since a bullet put him there at age 17.  It was his 50th birthday, but Joannie's car was broke down in Salem, where she had been visiting one of her three daughters.  A friend was supposed to have accompanying Joannie on this Portland visit, but he "chickened out", so she said "go ahead and go home then, I'll hitch by myself."  Which she was doing when I saw her, walking over loose rocks and boulders just off a very narrow shoulder of a busy two way road, turning to thumb every vehicle that whizzed by her.  Which including the sabBatmobile, at first. Seeing someone's grandma trying to navigate rough ground next to a very whizzy road, not to mention hitchhiking in the first place... well, what would you do?  Yes, she could have been an axe murderer, I had no way of knowing for certain.  Or more likely, a drunk; you know them drunkin' injuns.  Well I sure couldn't let myself behave that way, so I turned around, telling myself; how bad can it be?  She probably just wants to go the road a ways, to visit someone, or maybe to the casino several miles up, maybe she works there. And always try to keep these words of Hunter S. Thompson to heart; "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."  I'm nothing if not a good improviser, so I pull over and open the passenger door.  "Thanks a lot" she says as she maneuvers herself uphill and into the seat .  I say "where are you going to?"  "Portland" she says.  "Wow" I say in all honesty; "all the way to Portland."  A good three hours away, and exactly where I'm going.  But, whahdahyahgonnadoo?  So we're off, and it's not long before I know a whole lot about Joannie's family; her son in the wheelchair, and the one fishing the Columbia, the tall daughter still back home trying to straighten out some sort of student loan thing for community college, and the other two; one in Salem who does beadwork and another holding out on returning some money Joannie loaned her; "just because I'm a little inebriated sometimes".  Then she surprises me; "Now don't get offended or nuthin' but it was you white men than brought alcohol to us Indians, you know".  Just what the hell do you say to that?  I asked her if the rest of her family drank.  She said "Can you believe it?  They all quit!"

After several miles of long-ish silences punctuated by Joannie telling me about her family (including her good for nothing ex) and pointing out landmarks for events in her life ("this is where my cousin used to stay; I sell burritos there sometimes") she ask me; "do you have a girlfriend or somthin'?"  I explain that was married (my ringed finger was in plain sight on the steering wheel, but she was a bit distracted and forgetful) and my wife was working back home. She digs around in her cluttered purse and comes up with a handful of hand made beaded jewelery, selecting a very nice pair of black and blue beaded dangly  earrings...

... and asks; "do you think she would like these?"  I allowed as how I thought she would very much like them, and she hands them to me, saying again how much she appreciated the ride.  When we reach a Portland burb named Sandy (not far from Boring, Oregon- it's not bad enough growing up in a sprawlburb, but must it be actually named "Boring"?) I loaned her my cell to call her son.  Wasn't home.  So he called a niece; not home either.  Then she called her son's girlfriend, and sure enough, he was there.  "He's going right home now, so that he'll be there when I get there."  I still had my doubts about this whole "visit my son in a wheelchair" thing, and it didn't help that when we got to the block she had directed me to she said "you can just let me out here, we just passed his building."  I pulled over, she thanked me very graciously again while getting out of the truck, I said "good luck", she shut the door, and off she went, trundling back down the street, toting her coats and her purse that contained, among many other things, her jewelery projects, her food handler's certificate (for the burritos and fry bread she sells) and her all important Indian ID card.  It was a one way street, and I had to turn around anyway to, so I went around the block, just to check on her.  Sure enough, she was standing on the sidewalk talking to a man in a wheelchair.  His back was to me so I couldn't see his face, but he had a long, jet-black pony tail.  Shortly after picking her up, thinking that maybe I was going to get sucked into a family drama by helping a tipsy grandma run away from, whatever, I had asked Joannie if her son would be surprised and happy to see her.  "Of course he'll be happy to see me.  He's always happy to see his Mamma.  It might be his 50th, but he's still my baby".

After all that I still made it to the home of my dear friends Pat & Scott- my next generous hosts- in plenty of time to join them for another fantastic dinner, this time at a small, family run Italian restaurant that had an incredible deal on a three-course-with-wine-pairings special.  Homemade pasta, delicate, creative sauces, really interesting wines; I chose the confit entree- it's not often one find really high quality duck fat on the menu.  Next morning, coffee with Pat at a stellar coffeehouse (of which Portland has many) and a nice romp in the dog park with Oscar & Billie, and on to my final destination for this leg of the trip....

 Oceanside OR.  This is the sunset at Three Rocks Arch Marine Sanctuary, AKA, my front yard for awhile.  And just because I think they each have a little something that makes them special, I'm going to post some more shots of this same scene:

 

And this is the beach where I stood to take those shots, and where, if I can find the self-discipline to stick to it, I will be doing my Taijiquan routine every morning and evening...

... for which you will have to now excuse me; it's almost sunset again.

* From the Tom Waits song When All The World was Green.