Cold Steel

Today started just like yesterday at the Fisherman's Wharf Hostel, thunking and scraping overhead. Our room was located under the cafe that starts serving the free breakfast at 7 am.  We kidded ourselves about being able to sleep through it until about 7:45 am. (Camille says I was kidding myself because she was sleeping!) Enough is enough. Got up, got out of bed, dragged Camille out of bed and got the day started. Breakfast at Cafe GoLo, a cute little, self described 'boutique cafe'. Not sure what boutique means when it comes to food, but it was small, close tables and excellent food. Our server PB, (like Pheobe) was very hospitable and informative, telling us about the food and the 49 mile drive around San Frans main tourists attractions. She started us off with a taste of the mixed fruit tart and cranberry scone (English biscuit). Both warmed and delicious. To read more about the food, go to the Eats, Treats and Gastronomy page.

We tried to see an exhibit at SFMOMA, the modern art museum of San Francisco, only to be turned away because it closed on Wednesdays. Who ever heard of closing a museum on Wednesday??? Monday yes, but not Wednesday. People red a distraction half way through the work week. Not to be deterred we browsed throughout the Museum store and headed on over to Haight Ashbury to check off some items on our "To Do" lIst.

First up, a Grateful Dead, tie-dyed T shirt for the stowaway back home. Tough decision, there ware at least 20 different kinds of tie-dyed dead head shirts. We settled on one, Camille bought a very cool, light defracting silver ring.

Next up, the tattoo and piercing parlor. Cold Steel, came very highly recommended by the Dead Head T shirt seller down the street. While waiting, we got thoroughly schooled on the cons of using a piercing gun, how our first cartilage piercings were done and feeling extremely lucky our ears are still on our heads and doing well. Think cattle tagging and you'll get the gist of the conversation.

The highly tattooed and multiply gaged clerk (including nostrils and ears) gave a very professional presentation on the standards and processes they use to pierce body parts.

Camille was taken to a back room, set up like a doctor's office by a masked and rubber gloved piercer person, not sure what the correct terminology is. He thoroughly sterilized her ear, told her to take a deep breath and breath out slowly and before she fully exhaled there was a squeak, a drop of blood and a new ring in her ear. Very well done.

The pictures on the wall were of tattooed and pierced bodies throughout history. Some I have seen in National Geographic. While I myself will not be getting a tattoo anytime soon, I am curious about those who get them today, why and the images they choose. I have seen beautiful ones that look more like watercolors, on service men who were stationed in the south pacific during the 80s. Most of what I see now is much bolder and darker, and not sure beauty is part of the reasoning.  Beauty, most certainly, is in the eye of the beholder. But have you ever wondered what beauty actually means??

Off to the Golden Gate Bridge, where we did multiple rubbings and got our hair restyled by the brisk winds. Seals and porpoises swam what looked like a hundred feet below. Pedestrians and bikers share the walkway, so it made for an interesting game of chicken. Definitely didn't want a repeat of the Seattle Biking Fiasco experience.

We considered taking Hwy 1 down the coast, a beautiful ride past Big Sur, Carmel and other sights that we'd seen on our last trip to the west coast. Seeing that  it takes minimum of 9-10 hours, and it was already 2 pm, we opted for the recommendations of my nephew Kim, to hop on 280 until Hwy 101. Good choice, except the changing from interstate with limited access to freeway.  Passed a garlic farm along the way, at Gavilon, mmmm, mmmm, my favorite seasoning. Some of the other fields were not so welcome smells, cabbage being tops on the list.

It's a little creepy passing huge satellite dishes so close to the road as we zoomed by Los Altos Hills on 280. A small, unmarked building with multiple communications towers and another large dish could be glimpsed between rolling hills… Sounds like a good start for a B rated mystery, I digress, but whom wouldn't after going 4000 miles.

Driving through miles and miles of produce still in the process of ripening is astounding, especially considering the variation of crops and what our little part of the world uses. The lengthening shadows give a Van Gogh air to it all. Patterns, rhythms, contrasting colors. Most of the landscape outside of these fields is dry and golden. California is known for it's water shortages, where is it all coming from to keep everything else green and growing?

We spotted 2 oddly shaped "islands" a ways out, but couldn't make out what they were as we passed just north El Capitan State Beach. They looked too tall to be a natural phenomenon, but it was too hazy to make out exactly what they were. Weird. Saw three more near Ventura. Are these oil riggs?????? They look like something from Lord of the Rings. Traveling is a humbling experience. We get to gloss over what an area is all about, but these local oddities escape us. Thankfully the internet exists for curious minds. They are oil rigs and they create their own underwater habitat amongst the labyrinth of metal beams and pillars. How persistent nature is, to continue with what it does best, grow. One would never know what is below the surface without looking into it. These pictures are pulled from:

http://www.divephotoguide.com/underwater-photography-travel/article/diving-southern-californias-oil-rigs/

 
  


After stopping to ogle at the setting day over the Pacific ocean, the rest of the day went by in a blur, literally. With high speed limits, and low light, Camille made tracks and we checked into a Residence Inn in Camarillo, CA before midnight. The Compass was getting quite a collection of road wings on the front grill and behind the side mirrors.

Saluting History, Slowing Down

The day began with me realizing after a night on the town, I was missing my FREE breakfast tickets.By this point in the trip anything free is good. Upon check-in at the hostel we both got 2 tickets, one for each morning of our stay. Trying to avoid carrying a purse, I stuffed things into my cargo pockets of my capris. Well, at least I didn't loose my purse somewhere. Camille shared her other breakfast ticket and I was on the hook to spring for breakfast tomorrow. After going through the Hostel Cafe line, missing tomorrows would be no great loss. As nice as it was to stay a short walk away from Fisherman's Wharf, in one of the most storied areas in San Francisco, hostel breakfasts are meager affairs, especially when they are free. A ticket got you free marginal coffee, orange juice which neither of us drank, a bagel or 2 Eggo waffles. There was butter, peanut butter and jelly and syrup to dress them up. Fruit was a pay item.

The atmosphere in a hostel is so appealing. There are people from all over the globe passing through, living more simply, not carrying much in the way of baggage, intersecting and meeting. Although predominantly young people, much to my surprise, there were travelers on the not so young side as well. Most were Camille's age, but there were also families staying, too.

The land the Fisherman's Wharf Hostel sits on, was once owned by 3 different countries, Mexico, Spain and the USA. It was 'claimed' by the US government when California entered the Union in 1848, and set aside for military use, but not developed. When no development occurred, wealthier San Franciscans divvied up the land and built waterfront homes on it. Not such a smart idea in the long run. Eventually the military finally made a move to develop the land. Barracks were built to house soldiers. The waterfront houses were confiscated and became officers houses. Fort Mason housed soldiers from the Civil War era, through the end of WWII finally, becoming  military headquarters of the US Army on the West Coast and the Port of Embarkation until mid 1960s. Today, the military still uses some of the houses, but the majority of the land is part of the first urban national park, the Golden Gate Nationals Recreation Area. Some of the buildings, like the hostel, are in use today, many others are under renovation and some appear to be still waiting for a sprucing up. The history alone made it worth staying at. I fell asleep wondering who had slept here and when and if they survived their military experience. 

The two pictures of the outside of the hostel and the cafe are taken from the hostel's web site, as my camera ate the ones I had taken like it.

The walls emanate history, even in the cafe, which I heard was at one point an infirmary. We could imagine soldiers wandering, wheeling and being wheeled around in white gowns, and much more.
This would have been the Port of Embarkation for supplies and military personnel after the attack at Pearl Harbor. That in itself is some chilling history to contemplate.

San Francisco is best seen by wearing layers. The morning started out overcast and chilly, with the sun burning through sometime around noon, which warms things up considerably but not completely. We walked along the piers, did some sketching, ambled along some more, rested again walked into different shops. Knowing that we had to pack everything we had or would have for a flight back, made it easier to resist buying something just because we like it. These star lights were very tempting though. The picture is a reminder of resisting the urge.

My biggest challenge during the day is the place between standing and sitting. Walking is not easy, but slowing down is a big help, just not an easy concept for me to embrace. It's amazing how much pain can help facilitate change! We made our way to Chinatown and had a HUGE late lunch at Z & N restaurant. It was a hopping place and we had to wait a few minutes to get a seat. It was good in the way that Chinese food is good, and Italian for that matter. Predictable, starchy, soupy, spicy if you want it that way.

The best thing about being in Chinatown is the area itself. All kinds of unusual things to see and wonder about. Like what to do with fowl feet? Food from other parts of the world can be sooo exotic! We saw black chicken, which has black meat, skin and bones (and snow white feathers before it gets undressed for the Chinese market!) The Silkie chicken (wu gu ji) is considered a super food, Chinese medicine, antioxidant, a cure for what ails you. Not that we have had it, but it was readily available here and something on our "To Try" list. I don't know about the fowl feet. Will have to look into that one.

Visually, San Francisco has much to keep the eye entertained, as well as the sense of smell. Between the restaurants, allies, masses of people, gardens, ocean and buildings caked in historical dirt, just about any cloud of some kind of smell can be walked into. We were interested in the textures around us as well and brought some materials to do rubbings with. We often fought the wind, and tried to avoid the of traffic, people and otherwise.

I sat in Washington Park while Camille sketched. Same at Coit Tower. It was a lovely day for soaking in the rays.

Dinner was a light affair after such a HUGE lunch in Chinatown. There comes a time when getting fed is more than about food.

San Francisco Here We Come

Somehow, in moving rooms at the Courtyard Marriott Medford, our itinerary binder got lost. One would expect to loose somethings on a trip like this, but would hope it is not what is yet to be done! Fortunately, because of electronica, it could be figured out again.

We entered into CA somewhere around mile marker 796. It was intimidating to think of how many more miles there were to go. Our trip ends in San Diego, just a few miles away from the Mexico border.  These are the highest road markers either of us has ever seen. Wonder if they are the highest anywhere???

We saw our first highway patrol trawling for speeders in CA, and it was the only  one of the trip. Obviously, Ohio is far more invested in catching speeders than the 13 other states we drove through. I know I have supported that fundraiser on numerous occasions.

Signs that said: All vehicles be prepared to stop ahead" were unexpected. At first (not in a panic!) we wondered if this was a drug check,  but wrong side of the border, for sure. It turned out be be a check point for fruits and plants. After driving through South Dakota and seeing their pine trees devastated by a beetle infestation partial to that kind of tree, we totally understood the reason for the checkpoint.

California is a land of many…. many kinds of crops, many different types of terrain, many interesting things to see, many people and cars, many miles from one end to the other. We passed by a snow covered mountain top,  Mt. Shasta, according to the map. Saw a llama/alpaca farm near Yreka with a small herd of youngsters playing. And believe it or not, there really is an Easy St. It's located in Yreka, CA. A fire near Redding, looked like a building and surrounding trees were getting scorched or worse. Our entire trip has been marked with fire warnings, ranging from high to extremely high levels.

The landscape really flattened out around Redding and orchards started lining the road on both sides. Soon after that, it fall off again to prairie like grasslands Love the 70 mph speed limits! More orchards near Artois. Is a berry bush gathering called an orchard?

Even the grain elevators have some styling to them in CA. The terrain changes so dramatically along I 5 in northern California. At one point, the rolling mounds of golden grasslands looked like Montana, only to have an orderly planted field of trees in the valley between two. Not sure what kind of fruit was being grown, but the thought that the trees could be some kind of nut seemed logical. Is it a nut farm or a nut orchard?

We arrived in San Francisco, but not accommodating the traffic and my current condition, were 5 minutes late to catch the ferry for a night time tour of Alcatraz. Camille ran up, while I hobbled behind, in time to see it pull away. Well, what can be done at this point other than look for other things to do? There are views of Alcatraz from  just about any place on the piers as well as Ghiradelli sign above Ghirardelli Square. We checked into the hostel took our sketchbooks and headed for the pier.

We ended up stopping at the Buena Vista for a light dinner then stopping at the Blue Mermaid for a nightcap. The bartender, Josh, made us fresh margaritas from scratch and they were some of the best I have ever had. He started by taking half a lime for each rita, placing it in a heavy duty, hand squeezey gizmo and squeezing the fresh juice into the shaker. I had not ever seen that done. Other liquideous ingredients were added too, of course. Next purchase, a hand squeezy gizmo! Tip: Cointreau is used to retain the limey flavor of a margarita.

It's interesting hearing about San Francisco from someone who actually grew up and lives there. We took some of his suggestions into consideration while we planned the rest of our stay. No, he is not dressed as an escapee from Alcatraz. The theme of the bar is sea faring.

Above Level

We had breakfast with Marji and Jeffrey before leaving Portland. Marji is Camille's birth buddy. When I was pregnant in Nashville, I met a young woman named Shannon in a maternity shop. Prego women always talk, especially in smaller towns and places where maternity is the business. We found we had the same doctor and almost the same due date. She started talking about a patient our doctor had,  who did all these crazy things (doctor spilled stories about patients to patients, ethics, who needs ethics???) Turned out they were my stories. We ended up having birthing classes together and becoming great family friends still today, though we have moved 3 times since to different parts of the country. It was great to see Marji and meet Jeffrey.

The drive to southern Oregon was uneventful until we reached Crater Lake. It's stunning, with nearly vertical walls and cliffs completely ringing it a few hundred feet above water level. An island that  stereotypically looks like a volcano rises out of water near one side.. Think of how you drew a volcano as a kid and that's what it looks like minus the lava. The lake is considered a complete ecosystem with no rivers or streams feeding it. It's waters come completely from snow melt and rainwater, filling the caldera to depths of 1942' at it's deepest. That's a lot of water, and a lot of snow, too. Snow still clings feet deep to some parts of the slopes. Air temperature, according to Compass, was 61 degrees, 25 degrees lower than in Portland. There is sparse vegetation, other than trees, which in some places are quite gnarled, reminding us of fairytales… Fascinating. Posts made from smaller dead trees, about 15-20' tall line the road out of Crator Lake. Look like they are used as snow gages to indicate where the road is. Signs with > on them are more than 10' up, not what is usual for car traffic.

One could take a gazillion pictures and all would be interesting, but to really appreciate the beauty of Crater Lake,  you have to see it. We felt like  Hansel and Graetal, driving out through densely packed trees with a sliver of the evening sky glowing where the road split the trees. If it weren't for that, we would have thought it was night time.

Today was a pretty slow day for me. Camille, however walked about 4 miles before breakfast getting me nausea creating painkillers I eventually couldn't take AND picking up both bikes, from the fire department, about a dozen blocks away from the hostel. Each bike took a separate trip there and back, with one being too disabled to roll without extreme effort. All was accomplished before the 11 am checkout mandated by the hostel.

We took a very slow, short walk around Pike Place Market, split a chicken sandwich, at the Athenian Restaurant, by this time we'd missed breakfast. Pikes Market was hopping, so many more people and entertainment, likely because it was a weekend. Fish were flying, musicians playing, magic acts and all kinds of horseplay between some of the venders. We started our trip southward towards Portland.

A peck on a cheek for both was required to be able to take their picture.. no problem, so fun and cute, too. They were pulling people in with all their antics, as well as giving away samples of some of the best peaches we'd ever had. Fabulous Gala apples and bosc pears, too.

Wind energy is much more prevalent on the west coast than what we have seen anywhere else except Minnesota. I find windmills very interesting to look at and watch, sort of like fire. My EVO phone takes really great pictures, but when from a moving car, it does some interesting distortions.

I have heard criticisms of wind energy as not as cheap as fossil fuels or nuclear. What exactly is cheap about plundering through the natural wealth of our world, leaving major problems for future generations, and having by products that are not only harmful to the environment but all living forms except cockroaches, (maybe on the cockroaches)?????

One thing is becoming very clear to me. That if we equate value only on monetary terms, we have missed one of the biggest points of our life on earth. A capitalist economy has to be separated from what it means to human... to be humane: characterized by tenderness, compassion, and sympathy forpeople and animals, especially for the suffering or distressed. 

Distress in nature and humanity is everywhere. I am beginning to ask myself with nearly all my choices, what role does "cheapest" play?

We passed over the Columbia River and it was like a mirage in a very dry landscape. Impressive.

There was just enough daylight to stop at Mt. St. Helens Visitors Center. Understandably, hiking was out for me, so was anymore walking for the day. Mike and I went to Mt. St. Helens in the mid 80s, not long after it blew. We approached it from the east side and saw the gradual progression of destruction the closer we got. Eventually, it looked like the moon, really awe-filled. All gray 'sand' like terrain for as long as can be seen. The road on the west side approach, which we took, is a new access. From there, where the Visitor Center is located, it is far less devastating looking, other than the addition of 2 more lakes. 

We pulled into the Marriott Courtyard Waterfront in Portland and Camille met up with her birth buddy Marji for a night out on the town, while I relaxed in bed. Have I mentioned how great the Marriott beds are??????

Biking Around Seattle is NOT as Easy as it Sounds!

Had a great start to the day by hitting Pikes Market for a breakfast of fruit samples and a pork how bow (pronounced hobo) at Mee Sums Pastry. It's a semi sweet bun with different fillings stuffed into them. We tried the BBQ pork, which was still warm. It had far more filling than ones I have had at the Chinese Market in Cleveland, but the same kind of flavoring. By the weekend, a line starts stretching down the sidewalk to get one.

So many different languages could be heard as we made our way through the market and back onto the streets.

Camille had a full day planned, beginning with renting bikes and heading to the Olympic Park to see the Sculpture Gardens. Biking around Seattle is not as easy as it looks. Very hilly, almost as bad as San Francisco, just longer, in some cases stretching the elevation change over a greater distance. The Sculpture Garden has some name dropping dead artists's work i.e. Alexander Calder"s The Eagle (Massive red ironwork with Needle in background) and Claes Oldenburg's Eraser (refused to take a picture of it, but think 1950s eraser with tale, this picture is from the net) to more contemporary, still living artists. Very diverse selection of artworks spanning about 50 years, including current installation and inter-active pieces. We sat and sketched the 'eye' seats, which one side is an eye facing out and the other side a sculpted seat and got a nice sunburn started. 

Next stop was the Fremont district for a little shopping/browsing and then lunch at Paseos. The Sculpture Park straddles a working railroad line and we got caught at a RR crossing to let it pass before actually getting on our way. The camera on my EVO takes great pictures, but when trying to capture moving images does some interesting re-interpretations.

After going up a couple really long hills to get to Fremont we parked our bikes and decided to walk the last long hill to Paseo's for lunch. Besides, the road was being repaved and traffic was not moving easily j Paseo's was all that it was touted to be. There was line out the door to order, with very little seating in an open air kind of set up. The line moved quickly and we were gone within 10 minutes, walking back down hill to find a place to eat it. We found a courtyard in front of a small office building and sat quite comfortably under large shady treesj, carefully unwrapping an amazing pork sandwich and a cuban black beans and rice side dish. So far, this has been the best combination of quality, taste and price. In other words, a fabulous meal. You can read more about it in Eats, Treats and Gastronomy page. 

Fremont is a self declared republic, so a statue of Lenin (NOT the musician) is not at all out of place, in a weird, (hippie???) kind of way. The sidewalks are imbedded with colorful blown/fused glass droplets, lined with an eclectic mix of local shops with a quiet, lazy afternoon atmosphere. What's not to like? We stopped at a coffee house, Fremont Coffee Company to plug in cell phones and have a cup of java. Coffee is an aesthetic experience in Seattle, including the way it is presented. Even in a paper cup,  it looks pretty.

There are over 1000 minutes in a day. One has to wonder how much is missed by the passing of a single one? Or what creates the perfect timing for any one event in life to occur? 

Camille and I were on our way back to the hostel, riding down hill on Dexter when I was nearly sideswiped by a car moving into the biking lane, obviously trying to make a right hand turn. He was close enough, that if he didn't start moving back over I was going to knock on his window. Camille's yelling may have caught his attention, because he saw me and finally moved back into his lane. I was not so lucky two blocks later. A taxi, coming in the opposite direction thought he could shoot the gap on a green light, tramped on the gas and back end flying made the cross traffic turn. Not being my bike, I could not brake fast enough, not that it would have prevented the collision. My speed of about 15 mph, coupled with his of a similar speed in opposing directions, created quite a forceful impact. My front wheel hit his front passenger door, my back wheel and frame swung around, slammed into his back passenger door and quarter panel leaving a bike shaped dent across the car. I, in the meantime, was catapulted up over the back of the car and landed on my left hip and behind. At first, I couldn't believe what happened, nor the pain in my lower body and knee. Then I felt a liquid dampening under my leg and thought OMG, am I bleeding, only to realize that a strap on my backpack had broken, slamming my water bottle into the pavement, causing it to leak. Long story short, I was able to finally get up, was taken to Harborview Trauma Center and declared bruised but not broken. You can see an indentation where my seat hit the car above the back tire.

I always have a camera with me, you never know when something really interesting will be worth photographing. This other picture is my view of the monitors and things having over my head.

Some of the thoughts passing through my mind as I waited 4 hours for other more traumatic cases to be attended to were: 

1. Is this the hospital Grey's Anatomy is based on? What can I say, McDreamy would have been a darn good sight, McSteamy too. It was definitely a more raw Grey's Anatomy. I couldn't see much with my head and body strapped to a board, but the sound affects told stories. The language flying around was not PG-13 for sure. I did catch a glimpse of a restrained, crazed young man with a mesh bag on his head. Guess he was into spitting and biting. Then there was the bloody, bare footed, incoherent young man, found wandering the streets, restrained in another bed. Every time someone would come up and do something to help him he'd scream, "YOU SUCK! YOU'RE TERRIBLE.  I could go on, but you get the picture.

2.  A cyclist was hit 2 blocks away and bled out before help could get there? There is a memorial marking the spot. One could say it's all about timing and which side of a minute you are on. 

Found that I still do not tolerate narcotics…. nausea only sleep could quiet. Did I mention we were staying at a hostel? All 23 steps up were worth the nausea to barely feel it. The bruises have bloomed and are now going away.  

Camille was riding behind me and witnessed the entire event and was pretty shaken up, too. "It's terrifying to watch your mom get hit by a car!" She couldn't believe how high I flew and was able to get up and walk . I don't quite remember that part of it, but find imagining the sight, without the trauma associated, might be kind of amusing. It all kind of seems unreal anyway.

Our day ended at about midnight, without the chance to try another one of Seattle's many diverse restaurants. Another time.