A week ago: we realized that our decision of the week before that I would stay home to take care of the rabbit instead of going to Seattle as planned — a decision prompted by the lack of boarding slots at the House Rabbit Society — was perhaps not exactly the right decision. After our friend Andrea volunteered to check in on Thistle from time to time, we made new plans. I would drive up to Seattle with Becky to visit her sister’s family and then I’d drive back a few days later, and she’d fly back a few days after that.
Wednesday: realized that my schedule would not likely permit a visit to Nina. Sent an apologetic email explaining such. Accidentally sent the email from Becky’s account, which scared her given my choice of subject line: “Some Sad News”. Consoled myself by deciding to call Auguste for a coffee visit on my way through Oregon heading south, perhaps with a stop at Powell’s Books. Asked Auguste for his phone number. Got some work done. Cleaned house. Went to sleep. Had fitful dreams populated by bitter abandoned rabbits.
Thursday: Put a year’s supply of food and water and a toy into Thistle’s cage and locked him in. Left house painfully early, drove up I-5 to Weed with a visit en route to a blasé woodpecker in a rest stop south of Red Bluff, and then passed through one of my favorite parts of California on our way over to Route 97. Headed north into Oregon through Klamath Falls, rolled into Crater Lake NP around 3:00 in the afternoon. Committed various wilful and wanton acts of blatant tourism. Slept on ground in a forest after reading myself to sleep with The Snoring Bird
Friday morning: Drank coffee. Drove to wildflower area. Took some photos. Drove to next wildflower area, this one with a short hike involved. Had forgotten to secure gear in camera bag at previous stop: dumped expensive camera and more expensive telephoto lens onto dusty gravel parking lot from about waist height. Annoyed nearby parents with small children by responding to incident with a short, guttural Anglo-Saxonism. Determined camera, lens still worked. Went on wildflower hike. Fed mosquitoes. Marveled at greenness. Moved on, took more photos of the lake. Harassed innocent corvids. Left park and headed toward Eugene.
Friday noon: stopped at roadhouse on road between Chemult and Eugene, intending to buy coffee. Found that owners had preserved the recipe for the Best Baklava Ever, said recipe having come from owner’s Cretan grandfather. Bought baklava.
Friday, remainder of day: drove from Eugene to Seattle, pausing for an hour and a half to savor the zero MPH average speed of rush hour in Portland. Likewise savored the increasingly insistent blinking of the dashboard alternator light, beginning just south of Tacoma. Made it to Mercer Island, ate dinner, played with kids.
Saturday morning: took car to garage. Verdict: alternator failing. Briefly considered trying to nurse car home over two days. Realized this would probably involve semi-permanent stay wherever the alternator finally failed, probably in Albany, Oregon. Revised plans yet again: I would come home as scheduled, but via other means, and Becky, whose schedule was looser, would get alternator replaced and enjoy leisurely solo drive home in a week.
Saturday afternoon, evening: took Whidbey Island Ferry to appropriate island. Drove, got coffee, hiked, checked out campgrounds, waved wistfully from the Port Townsend Ferry terminal in the general direction of Nina, ate best salmon ever and best mussels ever in Coupeville, made scary noises in abandoned army fort to make three-year-old niece shriek in delight. Drove the long way home through Deception Pass, incidentally bringing me to the northernmost point I have occupied in my life at 48°27’45.02"N.
Sunday morning: arose painfully early. Drank coffee. Went back to bed. Got back up. Was dropped off at Seattle Amtrak station twenty minutes before scheduled 9:45 AM departure of Coast Starlight. Boarded Coast Starlight at 10:50. Left Seattle at 11:10, approximately 25 miles per hour.
Sunday afternoon, evening, late night: Sat on train in Tacoma. Noticed great blue herons along shore of Tacoma Narrows. Watched more green. Thought of things the oddly familiar green made me feel. Determined to write something or other about it. Sat on train in Olympia, Centralia, Kelso-Longview, Vancouver. Reflected that regardless of the town, each one, like most other such in the US, chooses to display its butt crack to the railroad. A trip across country on Amtrak would likely give one the impression that the USA is populated mainly by rusted out junked cars, with distinct minority populations of ominous discarded barrels and torn sofas. Sat on train in Portland. Did not call Auguste. Sat on train in Oregon city, Albany, Salem (which presented an unusual manicured face to the tracks), Eugene. Realized in Eugene that Coast Starlight also goes through Chemult and Klamath Falls. Wished in vain for unscheduled baklava stop. Slept for a few minutes after leaving Klamath Falls. Woke to watch the moon illuminating Mount Shasta.
Monday: Dawn in Redding. Train was variously on time, an hour late, or three or five hours late depending on which Amtrak employee one asked. Sat on train in Red Bluff, Chico, Yuba City. Arriving in Sacramento, it turned out that “three hours late” was the correct answer. Luck held: my connecting train to Richmond waited across the platform when I got off the Coast Starlight. Rode past mouth of Pinole Creek, coffee in hand. BART train was waiting for me at Richmond Station, cab at the end of the BART ride, rabbit at the end of the cab ride.
Tuesday morning, 12:52 AM: coffee finally wearing off, having had two hours of sleep since Sunday morning, I am going to bed.
Committed various wilful and wanton acts of blatant tourism.
You criminal, you.
Very enjoyable travelogue. How did you know it was the Best Baklava Ever before trying it?
You are in big trouble, buster. Whidbey Island? You got that close and didn’t make it that last wee bit to visit? You can practically swim that distance! Our fort is way better than their fort, you know.
I am glad you got to eat yummy seafood, though, and I’m somewhat consoled that you didn’t visit with Auguste, either.
Hope Thistle has forgiven you. I might find it in my heart to do the same someday.
I heart Deception Pass greatly…
Thanks for the wonderful travelogue. I wish my recent flying trip to and from South Fork, CO was half as interesting (probably because I was determined to *get* *there*, rather than explore.
Next time, I will explore! After all, it was my first solo out-of-state drive ever (easy to see how I’d gone 50 years without doing same, since I’ve lived in Central or South Texas all that time).
innocent corvids
Isn’t that an oxymoron?
Before buying it, you mean? He had free samples.
I can only offer the plea that I didn’t know where we were going and had no control over any of the itinerary. In-laws, you know?
Let’s hear it for free samples!
Some things you like instantly. First time I heard real bagpipes, I laughed out loud, and ran in the direction of the sound.
Ditto for baklava, except without the running.
Man, you could have jumped out of the train, had coffee with me four miles away, and gotten back on before the Coast Starlight even moved five yards through Oregon City. But that’s okay. Bunnies come first.
Oh yeah, pull out the in-laws excuse. I figured you’d try as much.
Pretty cool part of the country I live in, no?
I’ve read “Why We Run” by Bernd Heinrich, and really enjoyed it. I’ll have to check out his other offerings.
Sounds like a great mini-roadtrip, especially all the food. All I can think of when I have to spend extended periods of time in the car is what I’m going to eat next.
Faugh! You’re not supposed to make me miss Oregon. I just got away from there! I have sunlight and, um.. sunlight down here!
Ah well. Next time you take a biglong trip, you need to head south, instead… so you can detour through here, spend a lot of time in our traffic, and probably drive past my job without realizing it before you go on to your big adventure. All the cool people are doing it.
Mag darlin’, I am certain I have driven past your job numerous times without realizing it. Especially if it’s near the 10, the 5, the 210, the 60, the 58, the 101, the 110, the 2, the 134, the 14, or the 15. Not so much if it’s toward the 405.
Which means you should be even madder at me than Nina is, cause I’ve probably blown you off DOZENS of times.
Magniloquence, if you don’t want to miss Oregon, I probably shouldn’t tell you about how on Sunday I got to see a) a Red-tailed Hawk nest and b) a Bald Eagle sitting on top of a tree at the bottom of which had landed a young Great Blue Heron. Fortunately, the heron realized its mistake and flew away before the eagle had time to do more than gaze down bemusedly at the potential prey. (It was the opinion of the lay experts with me that the heron would have been easily manageable by the eagle, although I’ve never actually heard of that happening.)
Oh, and all this took place within bicycle distance of my inner-suburban house.
Just saying.
Had fitful dreams populated by bitter abandoned rabbits.
Bwahaha. Poor Thistle, left alone with the house all to herself and a year’s supply of vegetables. Tsk.
Your photographs on flickr (*nudges everyone to go see them*) are like liquid gumdrops for the eyes.
Should you and Becky plan another pacific northwest jaunt, I highly recommend Pacific Rim National Park and Clayoquot Sound on Vancouver Island.
Chriiiiiisssss! Auguste is piiiiccckkkiinnngg on meeeeeeeeee!
*ahem*
But yes, I take the 110 to the 10 to get to work, and the 10 to the 5 to the 2 to pick up Breviloquence, and then the 2 to the 134 (sometimes all the wway to the 210) to get back home. And work is near (and requires driving on) the 60 and the 405, not to mention the 90 (though only the one time, and that was beacuse I got lost). So I’m sure you’ve been by here. ;)
Next time you get mired on our freeways, give me a call! Given how the traffic goes, I could probably pull up next to you and have an hourlong conversation before we start moving.
I have no cell phone, sadly, so it’ll have to be coffee instead.
No cell phone? My LA-area brain is trying to compute that.
Heh. I was like the last person in my age cohort to get one (second or third year of college; my youngest sister has had one since she was… 13 or so), and now I use mine more than my land line. (Largely because I’m rarely home, but still)
But yes! Coffee is good. Granted, the only coffee even half worth drinking near my job is Starbucks… but there are some nice places closer to where I live too. I can think of two nifty places, one of which reminds me of Portland and ...okay, both of which remind me of Portland.
A great trip. Crater Lake has sadly eluded me to date. You provide further impetus to my desire to get there.
Reflected that regardless of the town, each one, like most other such in the US, chooses to display its butt crack to the railroad.
True enough, but see this interesting piece from Bill Benzon (and subsequent discussion) for a look at one such “crack” from a different perspective.
There’s been a rabbit sighting at Mostly Harmless. I think Thistle went looking for you….