I’d like to think Washington was crying to see us go, but then again, perhaps it was only a typical spring day in the Pacific Northwest. The eight straight hours of rain as we headed from the Estes compound in Hoquiam to the beautiful town of Ashland, OR took its toll on Tyson, and he was thoroughly exhausted by the time we reached CB & Steve’s house at Monday’s end.
Our journey started well. The house was immaculate when we left; we finished cleaning at 11:27pm on the 31st, just under the wire, and passed out on the empty living room floor for the night. We left for the parents’ house on Friday morning with the back of the Xterra and the roof rack fully stuffed. We planned on staying till early Sunday morning in Hoquiam, but being with the parents was so lovely that we ended up leaving Monday afternoon. Douglas Furbanks enjoyed some extended time in the greenhouse, nibbling the tops off John’s spring onions, and his first escape to the out-of-doors, which was short lived, but exciting. Tyson and I spent some good times playing cribbage with the parents, visiting the very cool Polson house museum in Hoquiam (in which we received a private tour from Tyson’s old high school friend, John, the owner and curator), and socializing with the brother, sister-in-law, and their brood.
We headed to Ashland, and toward the mythical Steve and CB, uncle and father (respectively) to our good friends, Alex and Shannon, about whom we’d heard fantastic stories for quite some time. As it turns out, the stories are true; these gents are two of the most delightfully quirky human beings I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. After a single evening with the two of them and breakfast at the fabulous Morning Glory with CB, Tyson and I left with good, strong hugs, heads full of questions, and a desire to completely reevaluate everything we’d previously thought we wanted from our lives. It was a spiritual experience for both of us, that evening in Ashland.
We departed Tuesday at noon under a big, blue sky and a profusion of cherry blossoms. The Siskiyous are still sporting snow this late in the year: patches on the roadside and peaks blanketed in smooth white were much more enjoyable in the Bear than they were on our move to Olympia in a U-Haul towing the Bear in the black of night and running out of gas. We marveled at the vastness of the peaks and valleys. Mt. Shasta’s slopes became visible in the distance, and we let out our collective breath as we crossed the California state line, feeling like we were home again, letting the sun drench our pale skin, drowsy vitamin D high tingling down our spines, dropping the windows to let in that beautiful, cold California mountain air.
San Fran is amazing, of course, as is our hostess extraordinaire, Alex. The resident beast, Katana, has become enamored with dreams of eating our Douglas, so the bunny has been living in his travel hutch in the garage with limited outside time so he can stretch his bunny legs. We’ve been walking a lot, trying to squeeze in lots of sights and sun before we head off to several days of Pacific coastline and camping between here and Los Angeles on Wednesday. Hopefully our spur-of-the-moment planning will be agreeable to our friends, Erin and Heather, and we can squeeze in plans with them before we live the city.
Until next time…