On the road again

The wind picks up again early in the morning. Time to drive on. Up into the Hood River Valley, past orchards and up Hood Mountain to a summer ski resort. Not much going on, of course, snow is total slush at this time of year. I can see where the sandbank that is not visible on the satellite images in Google Maps comes from. Huge debris avalanches have washed tonnes of sand and small stones into the Columbia River.

I continue south through the Hot Springs Indian Reservation and the Cascade Mountains to Eugene, my next stay. The landscape changes rapidly from desert to green hell. Waterfalls roar over 3000-year-old lava flows.
Tom: McKenzie River in Orgeon would certainly be your absolute dream. Everything between 1 and 3, and that without a break for 30 kilometres.

After only 10 days without a car, I’m completely incapable of estimating distances. For the first time, I arrive a full 4 hours early. Shortly before Eugene is Springfield. I hear on the radio that the Simpsons film is showing in the cinema today. But kiting is more important. Later I find out that although Matt Groening lives in Seattle, he was born and raised in Springfield, Oregon.

The Oregon Coast is only 50 miles away and is supposed to be beautiful. So I drive on again. The statement was correct. I cross Highway 101 and drive to the beach. Simply breathtaking. No big hotels, just small campgrounds and houses directly behind 50 metre high white sand dunes. I see a few kiters. Bows again, 16m² is just enough for the wind here. I drive along the coast.

A few miles south of Florence, sea lions swim in the water in front of the largest natural sea cave in the world. Unfortunately, I have far too little time again. I drive back to the large dunes, cross them through man-high bushes and take my first dip in the Pacific. Half bath, ice cold and huge waves. The coast really is one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.

Around five I make my way back to Eugene. Once there, I spend a good three quarters of an hour looking for a hotspot. Nothing, nothing, and nothing again. Not even in front of motels that advertise it. I ask for directions. Restart the laptop – and suddenly WiFi is working again. That worries me. If my WiFi card dies, I’m pretty much lost. How vulnerable I am with all this technology.

John, my next host, lives near the university in a student neighbourhood. Some students are playing American-style table tennis. Without rackets. Nine cups of alcoholic beverages on each side of the table. John comes home with his girlfriend Beth around nine…and they’re also in a party mood. We chat about music, gossip about Bush, discuss books, try out local Japanese specialities and microbreweries…and sometime well after midnight I fall into bed dead again.

Addendum: John is a writer. I’ve only read one short story, but I really liked it. So here’s a link to more from him: dontbelieveinthesystem.blogspot.com. He said that some of it could probably be categorised as “offensive”. All the better, have fun with it :-)