Well, That's That

So here I am, back in Oregon for the first time in over five months. That five months went by fast. Some parts of it seem like a lifetime ago, but at the same time it feels like I never left. After getting reacquainted with my parents, I caught up with quite a few friends. The first thing they all say is “Wow, your hair is long,” which I would probably say, too. Beyond that, we pick up right where we all left off. When you get down to it, five months isn’t an exceptionally long amount of time to be away.

My friends also like to ask me how I’ve changed or what I’ve learned from traveling and working on farms. I have no idea how to answer that question. If I have changed, I haven’t noticed. As for what I’ve learned… well, I can slaughter a chicken, pick an apple tree, replace a headlight and dig a hole like nobody’s business. That’s all well and good, but it doesn’t really affect whom I am or how I live my life. I’d like to think that I’ve learned to deal with people better and gained some self-confidence, but I think time will be the test of that. If nothing else, I‘ve definitely gained some perspective. I really let myself get caught up with some drama before I left Oregon, and now that just seems ridiculous and mundane. The world is too big to spend all your energy on a few dramatic people who, in the long run, really don’t matter. I hope that sounds more optimistic than cynical. And I hope I don’t lose that perspective too quickly.

Craving a broader perspective is one of the reasons I went WWOOFing in the first place (check). Another was to prove to myself that I’m capable of doing more than just punching keys on a computer (check). I also wanted to spend a summer outdoors instead of inside a dark office (check). Yet another reason was that I wanted some adventure and some good memories and I didn’t know if I’d ever get another chance in my life to do a trip like this (check). Plus, I had a goal to visit all 50 states (up to 48 now!). Oh, and I didn’t want to die before I lived in a tipi (check), saw Elvis’ birthplace (check), ate alligator (check), survived an attack by bats in a uranium mine (check), learned how to castrate a sheep (check) and arm wrestled an orangutan (still working on that one).

I’m still considering going abroad to continue WWOOFing, but I’m here at least for the holidays. Honestly, I don’t think I should be going anywhere else until I replenish my savings, and if I find a job I like then I wouldn’t be opposed to sticking around (I’m not one to leave a job without fulfilling a commitment). It’s a little scary not knowing what I’ll be doing or where, but it’s also exciting. There are no limitations on my job hunt, and I still have enough savings that I can be picky about what I pursue. I love my parents, but I refuse to adopt the career attitude of their generation, which says you should get your degree, find a job in that field, stick with it for 50 years then retire and collect your pension. I had that attitude ingrained in me as I grew up and it put me through a lot of stress in my early 20’s. It took several years for me to realize that it’s not only okay for me to change my job every few years if I want, it’s actually normal now. I have an IRA for retirement and I put money into it when I can. Beyond that, I’m going to live my life with the variety I want, and I have no qualms about pursuing a new field of work at a starting position with supervisors younger than I… again. I’m mature enough to know there’s no shame in it, and I can always make fun of those young supervisors behind their backs or spit in their food if I need to.

So that’s where I stand now. I’ll post a brief update when I know what I’m doing next. Otherwise, that’s about it for this blog. I’ll start a new one when I go on my next adventure, so feel free to check in from time to time. Until then, thanks for taking the time to read. I never seemed to have many followers, but it was enjoyable for me to write regardless. I hope those of you reading enjoyed it, too. And if you read my entries closely, you may be able to crack the secret code that will lead you to a hidden treasure worth millions. You knew that, right?

For the record, this was undoubtedly the best summer I ever had in my life.

That doesn’t mean it can’t be topped.

One Last Traffic Violation for Old Times' Sake

Alas, the day came when I had to leave my cozy Piedmont dwellings and finish the journey. On a rainy Tuesday morning, I packed up the car, pointed it North and hit the gas.

Wanting to milk my National Park pass for all its worth, I intended to visit the Redwood National Park in Northern Cali on my way back to Oregon. I made the mistake of driving up Highway 1 thinking it would be a more scenic drive along the coast. I call it a mistake because I barely saw any of the coast on that windy road and it took so much time to navigate that the sun set long before I reached the park. No bother—I figured I’d spend the night just before the Redwoods and drive through them in the morning, so I drove straight through to Crescent City before looking at a map to see how much further I had to go. That’s when I realized that Crescent City was actually north of the Redwoods and that I basically drove through it in the dark.

Damn.

Not wanting to retrace, I decided to forge ahead and put off that park for another trip. So I folded up the map and pulled back onto the highway. Not thirty seconds later, I was hit with a flash of red and blue lights by a highway patrolman pulling me over.

Damn damn.

For those of you keeping tally of how many times I’ve been pulled over since I left Oregon, I’m sorry to say that I’ve simply lost count (see the September 30 entry for more info—there have been a couple more since then). And if we’re counting the whole year, including before this trip started… well, then we’re into double digits.

So far, I still hadn’t received any actual tickets on this trip, only mundane warnings and a lot of interrogations as to whether or not I have any weed in the car. This has come from coppers in the plains states who, I assume, rarely see guys with long hair and Oregon plates cruise through their small towns. As long as they don’t fine me, then I have no problem with them satisfying their curiosity about the funny looking guy in the old Infiniti. This time, however, it was a California cop. I doubt I looked like an oddity to him, and I knew I was speeding, so I wasn’t optimistic. Lo and behold, my luck pulled through yet again.

It turns out the cop just asked me if I knew I had a burned-out headlight. I told him I had no idea, especially because I just replaced that entire headlight assembly after hitting a deer a few weeks ago. He said, “Really? Well, let’s try something.” He then tapped the light with his flashlight, had me flicker the high beams and even checked the cables to see if any were loose or crossed. I almost wanted to ask him to check the air in my tires while he was at it (THAT’S what I call a public servant). In the end, we concluded that the bulb that came with the used assembly had just reached the end of its life.

He then went on to ask me about me trip, where I was coming from and headed to, how I liked the drive, etc. It wasn’t the usual cop conversation, in which they just seem to be testing me to see if I’m drunk or on drugs. I really felt that this guy just want to chat, and he told some stories himself. Eventually, he wished me well and advised me to get a new bulb soon since it was a foggy and rainy night. Didn’t even check my registration. I have to say, that was the nicest cop that every pulled me over. Kudos to Cali.

The closest I got to the Redwoods

I spent that night in the back seat of my car at a rest area in Brooking, just over the Oregon border. At some point, I realized it would be the last time on this journey that I would sleep in that comfy but crammed seat (and I’m sorry to say it wasn’t as comfortable after the king size bed spoiled me). Bright and early the next morning, I cruised along the beautiful and familiar Oregon coast. I’ll admit that I slowed down before reaching the turnoff that led to my parents’ town. After five months, I didn’t see any reason to rush it. I think I spent a good hour walking around Otter Rock, my old favorite surf spot.

Oregon coast rocks (that can be a noun or a verb)

When I ran out of reasons to delay, I filled up my gas tank one more time (got yelled at by the attendant when I tried to pump it myself—forgot what state I was in for a moment), said sayounara to the coast and cut east toward the folks. Less than an hour later I pulled into their driveway for the first time in over five months.

Mom and Dad were, of course, tickled to death to see me—as I was them. Although I called often, we still had a lot of catching up to do. Before I left, I made them promise to keep our old 14-year-old dog alive at least until I returned. They kept that promise, and the poor dog, totally deaf and almost blind, was terrified of me until she sniffed my hand. Then I couldn’t keep her down.

14 years and still tickin'!

Do They Still Make Rice-a-Roni?

A couple days after Halloween, I bade my sis farewell and found myself speeding across Arizona.

My next destination was California’s Bay Area to visit a friend. This involved a two-day journey, and I included a small detour to cruise through the Joshua Tree National Park just east of L.A. A big reason for this detour was U2’s Joshua Tree album back in the 80’s. Yeah, I’m that old.

Eventually, I arrived in Piedmont. My friend lived there, but we spent a good bit of time living it up in Oakland and San Francisco. This included art galleries, libations, hiking, trips to the beach, Chinatown, running up and down really steep hills and absolutely amazing food. My friend is as fanatic about pumpkin as I am, so we indulged in pumpkin smoothies, pumpkin cookies and pumpkin cream cheese on pumpkin bread. One day, we made a pumpkin pie that we finished eating before it had a chance to cool properly. The next day, we did the same thing. I’m sure our fellow pumpkin fiends out there will understand. Believe it or not, we’re both still criticized for being too skinny.

Incidentally, if you ever find yourself in Oakland, I highly recommend scouting out Uncle Dougie’s sandwiches. Several people, including my host, told me they were the best and I was not disappointed. A storefront supposedly exists somewhere, but we were content to buy them directly from Uncle Dougie himself at his street booth. FYI: Uncle Dougie is an Asian man in California who sells authentic New York style Italian subs. I had to think about that for a bit.

In Santa Fe, I occupied myself by doing landscaping work for my sister. My stay at the bay, then, was the first time since June that I could just chill out someplace without having to work or travel. It felt like the first real vacation I’ve had in ages, and I soaked up every minute of it. And having good company definitey makes any vaca better. By the way, it was also the first time I ever slept in a king size bed. For someone who’s 6’3” and has been spending 30+ years learning to sleep within confines under 6 feet, let me just tell you that KING BEDS KICK ASS!!!

If only I could fit one in the back of my car…

Daffy Dies, Yoda Cries

My stay in Santa Fe was brief, but rewarding. It’s always fun to hang out with my sister and her fam, which includes her husband and their son, my 18-month-old nephew. This trip was extra special since it included Halloween.

Halloween is my favorite holiday, so normally I spend weeks trying to assemble a doozy of a costume, then paint the town blood red. This year, with a self-imposed limit on possessions and spending, the holiday took on a different feel. My sister and her husband had already planned to take it easy, invite a couple friends over, watch the world series and pass out candy to the neighborhood kiddies. For a few days I planned to find a simple and cheap costume and hit the town on my own. I had even scoped out a few venues and Halloween shows that looked interesting. In the end, though, I opted to be lame and stay home with the rest of the lame-os. In my defense, I was exhausted because my bro-in-law took me duck hunting at 5am that morning.

It was my first hunting trip ever. A couple years ago, I would have been appalled at the idea of killing anything larger than a fly. Now, after learning to slaughter chickens in Montana, I have considerably less qualms about whacking a bird for food. Also, I hate to turn down the chance for a new experience, even if that experience turned out to be sitting in the cold at the buttcrack of dawn and listening to a bunch of lawyers talk legalese for four hours (my brother-in-law is a partner in a law firm). We saw less than a dozen ducks the whole time, but not without a bounty:

So I had a little death and a little poultricide on my Halloween, and what better day for it? As it turns out, staying home in the evening was anything but boring. More friends showed up than my sister expected, and they all brought food. Drinks were flowing and Halloween music was spinning, so we had an impromptu party. The line of kids at the door was non-stop, and we all got a kick out of their costumes (a surprisingly large quantities of Marios this year). Giants slaughtered the Rangers in Game 4, which made me very happy, and my sister put on the Rocky Horror episode of Glee after everyone else left. I had never seen the show before, but it hit the spot.

Oh yeah, and my uber-cute nephew was dressed up as Yoda. He would cry whenever his hands got lost in his long robe. If that isn’t entertainment then I don’t know what is.