Everything I Tell You is Hearsay

I’m in Seattle with Hodie visiting her godmother Allison. It’s been drizzly all day, but we had a pretty nice time nevertheless.

We went to H&M and I bought her various accessories because that is what I do.

Then we went out to Ballard and looked at the shoreline a bit. Technically, just Allison and I did this, because by this time, Hodie was interested less in scenery and more in avoiding the drizzle. Which, to be fair, was wise since most of the scenery was clearly visible from the car.

We then went and had dinner at a place called the “Hi-Life” and I can say that the only thing to recommend it was the lovely historic building in which is was situated. The food was underwhelming and overpriced while the service was just plain lousy. Ah well, it was a last resort after Hodie got us kicked out of the first place we went to…

Allison and her husband Michael suggested we go get some ice cream, and they were talking to the right pair of girls. During the course of this outing I kept making accidentally inappropriate comments. By which I mean to say, they were fine in context, I wasn’t trying to be nasty, but then M & A would snort and make them dirty. For example;

M: “You’ll want to take a hard right here.”

me: “Yes because god forbid I do anything that isn’t hard”

(snort, cough,heh)

M: “It looks like Oregon beat Washington 53 to 16″

me: “Yeah, they beat the pants off the huskies and now they’re going to cream the beavers.”

(baha, mert, ha)

Hodie was fairly mystified, thank the baby Jesus.

M also created on purpose hilarity of his own when he said:

“I’m better than average at that; you could call me outcompetent.”

A’s laughter was echoing off the buildings and we had to make sure she didn’t collapse in the street. It was wet there.

(heehee, haha, ahem)

I have a fondness for getting the fuck out of town. As much as I love Portland, I also like to leave it. Not having had a car for some time now, doing that had been kinda hard, unless I wrangled some car owner into taking me along with them when they got the fuck out of town.

At any rate, now that I am once again a CAR OWNER I decided to take one of my most favorite girls  Hilary (Hodie being always and forever my first-most-favorite girl) out of town for a driving tour of the Olympic Peninsula and Parts Yonder.

We went on what turned out to be an ACHINGLY lovely fall day. While headed north on I-5 we felt our day was blessed by a higher source; namely Jesus.

I have never really understood this particular monument to Our Lord and Savior. He’s sort of looming over the freeway. He looks kinda menacing, and vaguely bizarre perched atop that rust-colored plinth and surrounded by some other figure I can’t quite make out, and what looks like one of those death-cages for motorcycle stunts. I’ve never claimed to be particularly religious, but I would TOTALLY go to the church that sponsored a looming-motorcycle riding Jesus. That’s even better than the Buddy Christ!

We followed 5 north to Olympia and then 101 beside the Hood Canal and out around Port Angeles. The weather was stunningly beautiful. Mild and blue. I assured Hilary that this kind of weather was nigh on unprecedented for the rainiest part of the continental US. She replied that all of her firsts with me have been kind of amazing, so this is pretty much par for the course. To defend her point, she cites the 7 person lap dance of doom, and I am forced to agree with her.

My original plan had been to take her to Seattle and show her the sights. She’s from Maryland originally, so there is much tour-guidery I can impose upon her. Upon further reflection, I realized that

1. I wanted to go back to the Olympic Hot Springs almost as much as I wanted to go on breathing
   
2. Hilary would totally be in to that
3. We could sleep in the back of my dandy new station wagon

and then there was no stopping me. So we drove for about 5 hours, but it seemed like less. As we talked about the strange statuary (see above) scattered all around the state, commented repeatedly upon the unusually glorious weather, talked about my new album of comedy country songs and it’s likely title “Prison Cheese” and featuring the breakout gospel smash “Jeusu: King of the Rodeo” the time just flew.

That being said, when we DID finally get there, we were DEEPLY DISAPPOINTED to discover that the hot springs were broken. Or, more precisely, the road to get to the hot springs were broken. Thanks a LOT Obama and your FUCKING STIMULUS DOLLARS!!! The old road was perfectly passable, except for where the tree roots had mangled the blacktop. SHEESH!

To soothe our disappointed souls and buttcheeks, we got out and looked at the view. It wasn’t so bad.

We were also consoled slightly by the fact that the typical cost of entry to the park was $15 but for some magical reason, it was a “FREE” day. I’m not sure if it was just the generosity of the semi-elderly park ranger or if there was actually a legitimate reason for it being free that day, he never bothered to explain. So we parked ourselves next to the water and engaged in various pagan rituals. We had some leftover river-float-rum-n-coke (Thanks Drew!!) and had a very relaxing evening.

It was only as the sun went down and I was a little too river-float-rum-and-coke-tastic to drive that I realized I had not really made any arrangements to camp. No reservations, no permit. Just kinda, showed up. Now, it happened that there were virtually NO OTHER PEOPLE in the park. It was probably due to the fact that most people, like me, assumed that it would pour down rain that weekend. Like it does 287 other days of the year. We had, so far had more sunshine than I have EVER seen on the peninsula, so I was feeling pretty smug, all things considered. But being that we were kinda stuck, and the park was mostly empty we decided on the following strategy: if a park ranger comes by, play dumb and mention that the guy at the booth said it was free and that we were just shocked to discover this did not include camping. Practicing my innocently confused look was exhausting.

We eventually crawled into the back of the car and hunkered down on the futon. It was quite cozy. It got a whole lot MORE cozy when, perhaps you can see this coming, IT STARTED TO RAIN!! Shocking, I know. And this was no gentle, atmospherically pleasing fall drizzle. This was pretty much a deluge. In the morning when it let up enough for Hilary to finally climb out of the car for a whiz, a neighboring camper came by and asked if we got wet. She assured him we were quite snug sleeping in the car, with it’s solid roof and windows. He and his companion meanwhile, woke up to a familiar, if unwelcome, sight for most campers in the glorious Pacific Northwest: Tent Lake. And people give me shit for my “futon in the back of the car” strategy. Suckers!

We woke up and headed back toward the mainland for our Seattle tour. However, when we stopped for gas on Bainbridge Island, Colgate decided he needed to rest longer than we wanted to stop. He effected this rest break by just failing to start. As we were some 200+ miles away from home, this was kinda stressful. After about 20 minutes of cooling down, he fired right up. I guess I’ll have to treat my new car a little more like an old pony; rest breaks after long trips.

From there we got on the ferry, which Hilary described as “The most luxurious form of public transportation in the universe” I also enjoy the ferry, but was charmed by her complete awe.

“It’s so clean!”

“This is really fancy!”

“These seats are really comfortable!”

“You can get BOOZE!!”

She liked it way more than this photo would imply

We landed in downtown Seattle but I was so nervous about Colgate’s intermittent ignition problems that I elected to just barrel back to Portland. Which, we did. Good times.

i’m trying something new lately; when i am sad, instead of lying in my bed and praying for sleep, i actually get up and go spend time with people who like me. it’s revolutionary, i know.

to that end, i went out last night with my friend emma. we had a lovely meal at Wild Abandon (which is one of my favorite restaurants, but i always forget about it) and then tried to go see Up In The Air at the fancy theater in Vantucky for which i happen to have a gift card. it hadnt really dawned on either of us that it might sell out, but, of coruse, it did. so. we scooted back to the right side of the river and had some consolation cocktails at the Virginia Cafe. were very pleastantly surprised by the bill once we’d finished; apparently happy hour lasts most of the day on saturday at the VC.

so, movie time came and we decided on The Fantastic Mr Fox, about which i knew nothing, but emma had heard good things. it was a delightful surprise and i thouroughly enjoyed it.

mounted by the venerable Wes Anderson and his usual cast of characters (plus goerge clooney and meryl streep ftw) this story adapted from a Roald Dahl book was charming and sweet and funny and visually engaging.

being a fervent fan of The Royal Tenenbaums, i have a bit of a tendency to get very excited about any new Anderson offering. as such, i’m sort of pleased i had no idea what i was in for. having had no expectations, i was simply delighted by the film without reservation.

it is very much a typical Wes Andersen offering, but in no way the less for that. definitely hodie friendly, it was enjoyable and disarming, a pleasure to watch and a genuine treat.

emma liked it too.

recommended.

didnt turn out like i planned.

first i kinda randomly…

hacked all my hair off

went to seattle

saw an amazing sunset

went to ikea

experienced intense coveting of this bed

then got smacked with the sick stick, like hard.

i only drink tea in times of desperation

i couldnt face the idea of an evening spent at the ER, so i’ll be going in the morning. but, generally, boo. episodes of gossip girl and chicken soup delivery nothwithstanding…

even though i never had one myself. turns out, a large portion of the state was on fire…

Re: OR-WIF-Tumblebug Complex

---

518 acres, 10% contained.

Tanker 00 committed out of Missoula @ 1345 today to this fire.

A Type 2 Incident Management Teanm will take over today. Expanded road and area closures were put into effect yesterday for a large area around the biggest fires in the complex. Complete information about the road closures and area closure can be obtained by calling the Middle Fork Ranger Station at 541-782-2283

so. i decided, sort of on a whim, that i was going to get the fuck out of town this last weekend. in service of this, i borrowed a car, loaded all the usual crap into it, and headed for Crater Lake. this wasn’t in itself a bad plan. the weather was beautiful and i like driving, so i decided to make the most of my trip and see what i could manage to enjoy along the way.

i bought this book some years ago called “Hiking the Hot Springs of the Pacific Northwest” and have proceeded to never actually use the thing. this trip seemed like a good time to remedy that. i looked at the book, my trusty Benchmark atlas and decided on the Wall Creek Warm Springs.

about 50 miles east of Eugene stands the quaint and charming townlet of Oakridge. the drive through the Willamette National Forest was just beautiful. winding, and lake strewn, the route was still fully green, but the hints of yellow and orange in the trees are beginning to show themselves

i have a strange obsession with taking pictures of signage

i would say this was one of the more enjoyable scenic drives i have ever been on. it wasnt dramatic, or breathtaking, but it was lovely and serene. lots of trees. i liked it.

the guidebook was pretty specific and gave excellent directions to the spring itself. i was vaguely worried that on a lovely friday evening such as the one i arrived upon, there might be stiff competition for the soak. turns out; not another soul there.

me and my feet go the best places together

it was labeled as a “warm spring” and this was a pretty accurate protrayal. it was better than tepid, but only just. on the plus side it did not stink of sulfur or tarnish my silver. i sat in the soak and read George Carlin. good times.

by now i was pretty hungry so i decided to roll myself back into town and see what was on for eats. this hamlet seemed to have a few likely options; the local brewpub or the slightly ramshackle divey place. it came down to whether i wanted sesame seeds and thousand island on my burger or pepper jack and a cibatta. on this occasion, froof prevailed.

this was the most delicious cider i have ever consumed

dinner was tasty, though as usual, there was too much of it. i was feeling kinda aimless at this point, since i had orginally toyed with the idea of going to Ashland to see a show but it had now become too late in the evening to reasonably expect to arrive before curtain. with no other concrete plans i just got back in the car and started making my way eastish.

i had been hearing for some time about the fire; on the radio they were keeping pretty close track of it. and i could sense it in that suddenly my inhaler seemed like my new best friend. but it wasnt until i started heading east from Oakridge that i really started to see any evidence of it for myself.

o'er the misty mountains...

i started to notice a distinct haze in the air and could smell the smoke as well. it was not an unpleasant aroma; it was the smell of camping. i had long since abandoned any hope of my own campfire; smokey the bear was practically foaming at the mouth and all the signs were red with their EXTREME FIRE DANGER placards up. so at least i got to enjoy the ambiance anyway, right?

my reasoning hereafter was, “what the hell is the point of getting a campsite if i cant have a fire anyway?” as such, i folded down the seats in the ‘Ru unfolded my futon and “camped” at a rest stop somewhere along hwy 97. yes, i know, devestatingly romantic.

i woke up at a not-ungodly-early hour the next day and scooted the rest of the way over to Crater Lake National Park (North Entrance)

see? like i said? with the signs?

to my surpise and pleasure i had managed to show up on some kind of magical “taxpayer headpat freebee” day so i didn’t have to cough up $15 to get into the park. neat! the kindly ranger in her silly hat handed me a little map-y doo-hickey and i was on my way.

smooooooke on the waaaah-ter

it was especially hazy this morning, and she warned me that visibility wasn’t going to be fantastic with all the smoke. i determined pretty quickly that i wasnt going to be content looking at the lake from the rim and needed to get down to the shore. i didnt want to go on the boat ride (who the hell decided to call it “Wizard Island”? was this national park founded by Renn Faire dorks or what?) but i wanted to put my feet in the water at the very least. i’d brought my suit thinking i might take a dip but my handy dandy map-y doo hickey alerted me to the fact that the lake stays a constant 38° and i did not bring my hypothermia hat, so i decided to pass on that idea.

there’s only one place on the whole lake that you are allowed to be on the shore. Cleetwood Cove involves a fairly steep trail; it’s a little over a mile, but has a considerable elevation change of 700 feet. this is the only way to reach the water’s edge and what is, to my mind anyway, all-too-generously called a “boat dock.”  i think i’d have been more inclined to say “canoe hitch” but i digress…

no, i do not feel the least bit silly or self-conscious dashing in front of my camera for this"candid" photo!

once i made it down to the shore i was gratified to see the water was every bit as unbelievably blue as anyone had ever suggested it was. but apart from admiring said blueness, there wasn’t much else to do.

yes, this water is sufficiently blue for me. i think i'm done here...

i did, i will admit sit down and get my hands wet. i didnt want to take off my shoes though because every surface was covered in soft grey ash, and i didnt want getting wet to turn me into a crusty ashey mess. i am a wuss. i did also pull out my tarot cards and find that i am isolating myself too much. sheesh, you take ONE little trip all by yourself and all the sudden, you’re anti-social. sometimes the universe is a NAG!

i then proceeded to charge back up the trail as fast as i was able. the placard at the top said it typically took people 40 minutes to make the return trip. i timed myself at 25. take THAT National Park Service!!

on such a smokey day, there were only very few other people around. i think i might have encountered a grand total of 2 dozen folks my entire time in the park, and i am including the somewhat surprsingly surly staff at the park’s Mazama Village Store where i was condescendingly informed that since it is federal land I WOULD HAVE TO PUMP MY OWN DAMNED GAS. that was an adventure all by itself…

after that excitement, and the scolding from the universe, i felt like my time alone on the road was over. so i scooted myself back to town. next time i run away from home, i’ll take a buddy.

i am in possession of an adolescent girlchild, and so is that one guy. one of these girlchildren lives on the east coast, and she when realizing that her visit here to see her father would bring her within striking distance of Forks, WA caused us to be subject to some clamor related to Twilight. then my child heard the clamor and exponentiated it. so.

the first thing i would like to say is that we knew, and WARNED THE CHILDREN, that there was not going to be a whole lot of rockin’ vampire action up yonder. that it was going to be a lot of driving to essentially see some signs. and in the grand tradition of the obsessed fan, they patently did not give a fuck. when i said:

“you realize, that pretty much, we are going to drive 5 hours to look at a sign that says ‘Welcome to Forks’ and not a whole lot else?”

they were like, bring. it. on. and that is what we did.

we drove 6 hours and all we got was this forking picture

it turned out however, that there was more to Forks than i had anticipated. namely; the most excellent chinese food i have had in many a long year. this seems odd to me. that a tiny town on the Olympic peninsula renowned for rain & vampires is going to have the best chow mien i have ever put in my mouth. happy little surprises are everywhere, no?

there were no chopsticks. i think it might violate the town charter or something

we had wavered on La Push, but we were ahead of schedule and it wasn’t as far as it looked on the map. this ended up being one of the best parts of the trip to my mind. we love the ocean, the light was golden and diffuse, and we had a very lovely time together there. right up til Cynthia and i found the singlemost offensive outhouse in the history of outhouses. seriously.

my three favorite people

and what could top this experience? what could possibly make it EVEN BETTER?? fuckin’ soft serve my bitches. we passed the quintessential purveyor of such treats on our way down into La Push. the diner had a sign out front declaring it on the treaty line, so another photo op was inevitable. might as well score some ice cream while we’re at it, right?

back on the road, we wound our way around the peninsula toward Port Angeles. it was the dimming of the day and the children got rather quiet. the road was very twisty and bordered a lake of breathtaking beauty. i was feeling incredibly happy to be on this trip with these people. i turned to gaze affectionately at one of these people and realized she was about to hurl.

Hodie gets carsick. so CLEARLY the thing to do was fill her full of chinese food & soft serve and then drive down some windy ass roads for an hour or so. this, it turns out is a great recipe for vomit! when i realized she was about to spew, i gently suggested we pull over. i did so by saying:

“pulloverpulloverpulloverpulloverpullover”

to his credit, our driver did so with complete alacrity and judicious haste. it actually worked out great cause i had really wanted to get some photos of crescent lake anyway…

me and that one guy

so scenic, it hurts my eeeeeeeeyyyyyes

so. we finish our lakeside breather and i supply Hodie with a plastic bag. i say:

“if you need to hurl, say something, but if you don’t make it, use this.”

off we go.

i keep checking on her periodically, and it seems the fresh air and moments of stillness have done the trick. i slip back into complacent enjoyment of the scenery when i smell that smell. you know the one…

we pull over again to dispose of the expulsion. Hodie is chagrined. she turns to Cynthia…

“i’m really sorry. it sucks to have to ride in the car with throwup”

“eh,” Cynthia replies “i have 5 brothers and sisters, and we can NEVER ride in the car without someone throwing up or peeing in the car.”

“yeah, but i managed both.”

pardon??

turns out, Hodie had to go. and with (perhaps because of) the giant Taco Time soda cup from earlier that day, managed to relieve herself while we were driving and then dispose of the contents WITHOUT ANYONE NOTICING. i admit. this is partially my doing. once upon a time we had an hourlong commute every weekend back and forth from her dad’s house. and when she was younger, bladder control was not so much in her repertoire. i trained her to manage the problem while on the move so as to avoid wetting herself or my upholstery. apparently, it is a lesson she has learned even better than i knew. i was deeply impressed with her stealth and there were high fives all around.

then there was camping. you know, fire, tent, the whole bit. i actually bothered to put on the rain fly and everything! and this turned out to be wise.

what WAS NOT perhaps so wise was leaving out our shoes, and cloth chairs, and (in my case) expensive vacation cigarettes. turns out, sometimes, it actually RAINS around there! in the RAINFOREST!! can you IMAGINE??

next morning, we were damp, but determined. there was a hot springs nearby and by all that is holy, we were going to be a-soakin in it! i had been trying to get up to this particular spot for a couple of years, so i was very excited to be finally realizing this ambition, despite the mewlings of my child about how much it sucked to walk in the rain.

it was 2 1/2 miles of easy strolling over a mostly paved path. there was some scrambling over a creek in a spot or two, but anyone with a 1/2 decent mountain bike could get back to the springs in about 10 minutes. as it was, we needed about 45 minutes all told to reach them.

our glorious reward for hiking in the rain.

coming back was a little tougher. we had wet feet. and wet shoes. and wet clothes. and a wet 10 year old who can lag significantly behind when it pleases her to do so. i’ve come to accept the best way to handle this is to just carry her. i hadn’t been to the gym in a few days, so i figured it was a fair way to make up for that while getting us back to the car double quick. this however, did not suffice for feats of strength… oh no, it did not.

and it isnt even Festivus!

after all of this, i couldn’t be the pony anymore. but SOMEBODY had to do it.

his horsey noises are way better than mine anyway

we finally arrived back at the parking lot; damp, hungry, smelling like devilled egss, but ultimately triumphant. Hodie remarked how great hiking was for making you appreciate the simple pleasures in life;

“i am pretty sure i have never enjoyed sitting in the car quite so much as i am enjoying sitting in the car right now. i am not getting rained on. i am not moving. my feet don’t hurt. i freaking love sitting in this car!”

profound, my child.

we are wet and crooked but happy

we decided that after this, we were camping in a fucking hotel. there was a laundrymat. there was a shower. it was the height of luxury. we did also have dinner in a very nice restaurant called the Queen City Grill. we sort of stumbled across it after wandering around Belltown & Pikes Market for a while trying to find a place that a) would let kids in and b) had something my kid was willing to eat. she had a Kobe Beef Hamburger but the waiter thought she was a boy. kind of a mixed bag for Hodie.

next day was Seattle-tourist-o-rama. we went to the space needle, but i decided $50 for the pleasure of an overblown elevator ride was excessive. instead we went into the Science Fiction Museum and looked at Muppets. it was groovy, but i can’t post any of the photos i took cause apparently it would be copyright infringement. or something.

the outside was the coolest part of this place anyways

after that we rode the monorail, strolled through Pikes Market and then went on the underground tour. all touristed out, we hit I-5 for home.

we missed a few things. we’d meant to see Mt St Helens, but didn’t get back around to it. we also didn’t know that Kalama High School (which was very much along the way) was the building they used in the exterior shots for the Twilight movie. we discovered this when we got to poking around to see what else could be found locally to fill the Twilight shaped hole in Cynthia’s heart. since we missed the school, we stuffed something else in there.

The View Point Inn is where they filmed the prom scene from the movie. it is also an incredibly lovely and charming restaurant just off the scenic highway in the gorge. i have driven past this place COUNTLESS times, and never thought to stop, but it is now one of my top 5 favorite eateries in town.

we had a very tasty and enjoyable meal and Cynthia was able to obtain some additional gee-gaws for her friends. cause it’s not like you can find Twilight merchandise just ANYWHERE…