Blog Jammed

this has become an exercise in futility. recounting the past seems this way, though, more often than not. the relentless march of the present creating the future leaves so incredibly many moments not remembered and many more only vaguely so. the rudimentary tools we wield to capture the present as it is past are just that, rudimentary. cameras and journals and blog entries we throw desperately like a net at time and experience in hope that they will somehow capture it for study later. the rest of this trip in the earlier part of this year has been displaced somewhat with memories and experiences and things caught in our rudimentary nets. for the sake of closure, or maybe just for the sake of finishing something we started, here is the rest of our west coast trip of the late winter in all of its fractional semi remembered form, beamed out of the incredibly punishing heat of mid summer central valley life.

we crossed back into oregon, beginning our southward travel by pausing in the extremely lovely town of astoria for, yes, vegan food and skateboarding. both were enjoyed with gusto. below is the plate i was served said vegan treats on. this region of the northwest was absolutely bursting with masonic imagery (painted on stuff, those magnetic masonic symbol car things, temples, etc), even down to the plates they serve food on.

and below you will find the park i got served on. even more northwestern concrete intimidation. amazing times.

the food and skating just ate away at our day and soon enough, we were breaching portland city limits in darkness. the next day, we set off toward bagy hot springs with our ever gracious and patient hosts, the french (frenchs? frenches? français?). when we purchased our day pass at the base of the mountain we had to summit to get to said hot springs, the ranger said it was snowing up there earlier in the day and we laughed inwardly at this preposterous proposition. the sunshine was incredibly brilliant as we ate our burritos at a leisurely pace. soon enough, we began our ascent toward the promise of relaxation via hot mineral water in a hollowed out log.

the nearer we drew to bagby, though, snow began to fall. mile upon mile up the mountain, it intensified incredibly. we proceeded upward into the storm, slip sliding around. upon arrival, the more sensible french chilled in the parking lot and (as is their nature) graciously encouraged us to go to the springs while they waited. melissa and i ran hiked the mile and a half to the hot springs (we made the hike in about twenty minutes, giggling as we slid-ran singing praises of the northwestern vegetation along the way).

slippy bridge along the way

bagby itself. waiting for th' tub to fill up was an engineering conundrum we mastered in no time. it mostly involved waiting.

and eating celery.

refreshed, we ran back down the trail even faster and met up with the french and were soon enough back in pdx safe and sound. bagby was absolutely worth the snowy peril and slippy hike run. beautiful beautiful relaxation nakey soak in the forest. highly recommended for anybody near or thinking of going near the portland area.

snack attacks brought us to the store that night, melissa began morphing into an avatar.

we bid portland adieu for the final time and meandered south. we encountered some patriotism along the way...

and then on into sonoma county. patrick amiot's lovely sculptures dotted the landscape.

and we saw were guayaki comes from. we also experienced the worst of yuppie/hippiedom. ooof, so intense up there.

and on down the coast we went to monterey. our monterey hosts (leif and margaret and their BEAUTIFUL offspring, riley and beck) were incredible to us, despite the newest addition to their family commanding most of their time. they even lent us borrow their monterey bay aquarium pass.

their sea horse exhibition was mind blowing

mind....blowing

melissa was disgusted at the male birthing process

and the thomas kinkade compound

then left monterey and scoped these beauts on the way down the coast.

and paid der tinkerpaw's estate a visit. totally badass.

the first house he built, in the back of the property. he let it serve as a monument to a special lady who lived with him in it. she left him and he left the house to rot. drank the wine and threw away the rose, as it were.

der tinkerpaw worked on hearst castle (which is not too far away from his cambria estate) and this is one of the few remaining bits he took from the hearst building site to add to his ridge.

and this looks like a bone

me, nitt witt ridge and the end of our west coast trip/blog jam.


amen.

*** and now, a note from melissa ***

dear you,
thanks for reading, thanks for caring.
thank you for your words and thoughts.
we hope to see you again sometime,
somewhere less digital and more face to face.

xo