Crossing Over

I woke up hundreds of miles away from home, taking a few moments to remember where I was and what I was doing. Once the realization set in, the thrill of adventure spurred me into action

The van was prepared for departure and I set off, continuing through Northern California. Although the drive so far had been familiar and a little boring, the rising sun illuminated a misty morning and far more greenery than I was used to.

The soulless grids of crops had been replaced with more picturesque farms, with trees, barns, and actual homes instead of miles and miles of industrialized fields. The highways began curving through forests, and I started bridging rivers and lakes more frequently. I caught a glimpse of Mt. Shasta through the haze and was soon crossing over into Oregon.

Eastern Oregon was much the same as Northern California; semi-green but still very warm. I stopped in Medford just after noon to hit the gym and break up the driving with some physical activity. The pace of my travel slowed, and I started taking my time and enjoying the sights a little more, ending up in Salem for the night.

I had only spent two nights on the road, but I was loving every minute of it so far.

I continued north the next morning and spent time exploring the Tualatin Wildlife Refuge. That morning, the refuge was home to a large flock of white pelicans, a heron, and an assortment of ducks and geese. The grounds themselves were filled with the twisting trees and hanging moss typically associated with the Pacific Northwest.

After communing with nature for an hour or two, the journey to Seattle resumed. I had to be in the city by 7 PM for the concert and had plenty of time to get there. The forests on the side of the highway became denser. I became so comfortable with the green flashing by the van that a sudden splash of grey took me by surprise. I thought it was smoke at first, but realized it was just a concrete retaining wall, sticking out like a sore thumb through the foliage.

I closed in on Portland, planning on just passing through, and got caught up in the congestion that plagues every major city. Crossing the border into Washington was uneventful, and I soon found myself near Angle Lake outside of Seattle. I took the link train into the city and got off in the middle of downtown. Dealing with traffic and transit made me yearn to be out exploring nature.

My view of Seattle had been slightly romanticized; I had pictured it as a welcome place for my inner hipster, with coffee shops and bookstores as far as the eye could see. In reality, Seattle is the same as any other big city with the same kinds of stuff you typically see in any major metropolis.

I found the venue for the concert and chatted with my fellow fans waiting in line. The concert was great, but I left before the band came out for an encore. It had been a busy day, and there was still some driving left to do. I was itching to hit the road again.

My night in the city had been fun, but the mountains were waiting.