A continuation of “USA A-OK,” this is post #2 of 2 of my travels through some of the major cities along the west coast.
I originally felt kind of rushed to publish part 1. Now that 10 days has elapsed since that post, it would seem I am not nearly as organized as I had hoped. Alas, this blog would be secondary to the the trip itself.
In case you missed it, part 1 can be found here.
(Yes, I realize the title picture is of Lombard Street in San Francisco and not San Jose!)
Portland, Oregon (July 15-17)
I left Mount Rainier around noon and didn’t get to the Portland area until around 7pm (primarily due to it taking 1h45m to descend that stupid gravel road). The whole ordeal, as described in the previous post, felt like a big waste of time since I was still so close to Seattle. It was like I hadn’t left and that I had wasted a day doing not a heck of a lot.
You live, you learn.
Instead of hostelling within Portland, I decided to camp 40 minutes out of town and drive in both days. Cheaper that way and much easier to meet like-minded people around camp.
I spent my first day exploring the city on my own. Having picked up an American SIM card for my phone, I made use of the trusty Google Maps to peruse the city.
Portland felt like a familiar place, but I guess the same could be said for Seattle. Everyone I met was courteous and friendly, making the day-to-day easier to handle when you’re never totally comfortable in your surroundings.
I walked around downtown, then to the Willamette River, walking the length of Tom McCall Waterfront Park and seeing four of Portland’s many bridges.
What was particularly weird about Portland to me wasn’t anything to do with the city itself. It was that this was the first time during this trip that I was exploring a large city without anyone else’s company.
Prior to Portland, I had had friends, or at the very least made new ones, in each city. All of a sudden it felt more foreign than camping.
Driving huge distances, unpacking, camping, repacking, hiking – these things which I’ve grown accustomed to doing meant exploring a city alone didn’t feel as natural as wandering through the woods. Which is kind of an interesting change.
It was a few hours into my exploratory sortie when I realized I was hungry. No problem, I was a stone’s throw from Voodoo Doughnuts.
Voodoo Doughnuts is one of those places that always has a line out the door and down the street. They’re known for their unusual doughnuts and toppings. Just check out their website.
Next up on my tour was Powell’s City of Books. Its name does it justice as the largest independent book store in the world. I needed a travel guide of the USA and picked up a used copy of a Lonely Planet 2014 edition for $15.
I felt kind of guilty for visiting a place like this without my sister. Like me and my dad being able to spend a day at the Museum of Flight, Emily could easily have spent a day inside these walls. I mean, she is a librarian.
The book store felt like a disjointed amalgam of all the buildings on that block. But in a good way. There are stairs and corridors that connect one section to another, and the place is so big it has an info desk with a map of the building.
Last two stops that day were Stumptown Coffee Roasters located in the lobby of the Ace Hotel (pretty slick) followed by a couple of beers and dinner at one of Portland’s numerous brew pubs.
It should be noted that at this point in my trip, I noticed I wasn’t really feeling lonely, awkward or concerned about doing so many things alone. It seemed like a bigger issue when I started out, but by Portland it was fine.
Not great, just fine. People are nice.
Day 2 in Portland was more of a family and friends kinda day.
I hadn’t seen Emmett in four years and I had never met his girlfriend, Ivy. They moved to Portland two years ago and absolutely loveit. Also, Emmett races bikes (his t-shirt is proof), so Portland is like the perfect place.
We met up for lunch at the food trucks which, like Powell’s nearby, take up a whole block. Framed by SW Washington, Alder, 9th and 10th, this spot provided enough culinary choices that it took us (me) nearly an hour to figure out what to eat.
The three of us ate in a nearby park and talked about life in Portland. It had been a while and I had forgotten how soft-spoken yet articulate Emmett was. He has a way of talking about people and places that resonates with me.
Walking around after our lunch, Ivy bought us ice coffees from Courier Coffee Roasters as we tried not to bake in the hot sun.
That night I had dinner with more relatives I had never met before. Dad had put me in touch with his aunt Jerry and uncle Wally. He has fond memories of them from his childhood. Jerry and Wally lived for a time in France. Some time back in the ’50s, they brought him back Tintin books, long before they were as ubiquitous as they are today.
It was as enjoyable as it was interesting being able to talk to people who knew my grandparents so well. We each had different stories to tell about them, many of which the other had not heard of before.
I found this helped reinforce the importance of keeping in touch with family and documenting stories, tales and family history. Something which I hope this blog, in one way or another, will accomplish.
U.S. Route 101 through Oregon and California
U.S. Route 101, also known as Highway 101, The Oregon Coast Highway (in Oregon) and The Pacific Coast Highway (in California), is not the fastest way of getting to San Jose. Interstate 5 has the pleasure of accomplishing that task.
No, Route 101, being 300 km longer and taking 16 hours as opposed to 10 hours, is not what you would call a convenient alternative. It is a scenic alternative. And when you’re on a road trip, the road you take makes the trip.
I may have said the same about the Rockies since I drove there first, but I have never driven along anything as consistently stunning and exciting as the Pacific Coast. Moreover, I’ve never driven any car as rewarding as the little Miata. Through all the coastal ups and downs, twists and turns, heel-and-toe shifts, and wide open throttles, the Miata always seemed ready for more than even my superior (if I could be so bold) driving skills would allow. (I have a lot of experience playing Gran Turismo, so you know. Experience.)
Driving along this road through a littoral fog at dawn, I was reminded of a famous article written by an even more famous man, the late David E. Davis, Jr., a man who has been referred to as “the dean of automotive journalism.”
I don’t think he made many friends in his line of work, particularly with his defiant writing style and heavily opinionated views. Despite it all, people loved him for his honesty and regret having lost him to cancer four years ago at the age of 80.
The article I’m referring to is read by Davis himself in the following video.
“And we would do a lot of early morning stuff in keeping with my belief that God does not charge us for hours spent driving before breakfast.” -David E. Davis, Jr.
I’m not a particularly religious person, and I’m not sure that Davis was either, but I did many drives in keeping with his ethos – hitting the road after packing up camp but before eating breakfast. It feels like the world is on pause for you as you seemingly have the road to yourself in the early morning light.
The hunger in my stomach would build as the sun would rise and the familiarity of real life set in. Each time I would do this – and it was never planned – I would inevitably experience moments of extreme happiness and joy.
Where you realize you’re smiling for no particular reason.
Being alone in this place was good for once.
That night I made it into California and Redwood National Forest where yet even more incredible roads weaved their way around several-hundred year-old trees.
I left the redwoods early, en route to San Jose via Napa Valley where I’d be meeting Alex and Jen for the second time in this trip. Napa Valley is around a two and a half hour drive North from San Jose, so it would make a nice day trip for them and a good driving break for me.
Alex and Jen found a couple of wineries to visit, I plugged them into my phone and we were both off to our mutual destination.
I got there first and took a nap.
San Jose (July 18-22)
Following Alex’s sweet Ford Focus ST from Napa Valley, making my way to San Jose was easy.
So I had never heard of this song until I told my parents I’d be heading to San Jose. They both instantly broke out in song while I was left very, very confused.
I slept on Alex and Jen’s ridiculously comfy couch that Saturday night. We left the next morning to spend the day in Saaaan Fraaaancisco, which is only an hour north.
San Francisco
Driving up to Twin Peaks Summit, which overlooks everything from the Golden Gate Bridge to Alcatraz and the Bay Bridge – well, really just a 360° view of the city, we experienced no wind at all, which is apparently very unusual.
Also unusual, apparently, was the mid 30°C temperature and clear skies.
So you know how Alex and I are superfriends from high school, right? Well he and I aren’t the only ones. There’s a small group of us. We’re actually kind of spread out across North America now, but we keep in touch on a near-daily basis. It’s really nice.
Superfriend Adrian, who lives in Brooklyn now, has a brother named Ed who lives in San Francisco. Leaving Twin Peaks, Alex said, “Hey, should I text Ed?” I was like, “Hell, yeah you should text Ed!”
So we met Ed in the park.
Then we ate ice cream.
We walked along Fisherman’s Wharf, then towards Little Italy where we crashed in a park. The heat and driving from the last two days had gotten to all of us. But I did manage to play a bit of soccer with some people in the park.
We window shopped our way through all the Italian restaurants and settled on one where Alex and the maitre d’ had a nice conversation in Italian.
San Francisco is a nice place to be.
miata meanderings 