I was on the road for a week.
I was in the town of Ashland for the 4th of July and saw this wonderful parade of civic groups and school-kids and firemen and dancers march by, and crowds shoulder-to-shoulder on either side waving flags and eating candy and wearing summer clothes. Small-town America is really sweet, I loved it. Makes me want to find a happy girl and settle down in a little house and take a job at the lumberyard. Seriously. Watched the fireworks that night from the yard of some friends, we climbed up a big tree to see it and that was fun and sweet too, and I was sad when I got back in my truck and drove on.
Portland is a great city. Their gallery scene is surprisingly good, a lot of galleries in the Pearl District showing well-rendered, professional paintings. Lots of cafes and restaurants and parks with people walking their dogs. A clean, well-kept city. Neighborhoods outside downtown are small wood-sided houses with yards and it seemed alright. It made me want to live in a city where I could one day afford to buy a house.
Met my brother in Portland and drove up the Columbia River Gorge. Swam in the river and watched the freight train and ospreys and cottonwood seeds thick like snow, ate cherries from a tree. Hiked in the hills with small lakes and pine forests and Mt. Hood always in the background. Mosquitoes were so ferocious I forgot to be afraid of bears. On unmarked Forest Service roads, remember to never take the spurs and you won't get lost.
Drove down and camped at Castle Lake near Mt. Shasta another two nights. Really really gorgeous here. Lots of people playing in the water, canoeing, floating in plastic floaties. I like the neon plastic colors against the forest green, I like seeing happy people at the edge of nature, and then climbing the mountain over the lake and seeing nothing but wilderness on the other side. There is endless wilderness here, no one would ever find you if you got lost. Mountain after mountain, many still snow-capped. Little songbirds hard to spot, hawks catching downdrafts, icy ponds, good conversation, cooking dehydrated pasta with a curious deer nearby, fishing without the gear, an early dawn and a long drive back.
Now I'm back in San Francisco. Coming back from a trip can be a let-down, but San Francisco is a trip too, it's all a trip and it's all alright.
