Notes from the Pacific Northwest

Taken from my notebooks, since, like the rafting trip, I neglected to write an account immediately afterwards. Oh well, my loss.

Landing in Seattle, driving to Oregon Aug. 7

� Sign at an I-5 Washington to rest stop: PERSONS OF THE OPPOSITE SEX MAY ASSIST DISABLED PEOPLE IN THE REST ROOM.
� Oregon license plate: 1QKRX7 (on a Mazda RX7)
� Oregon/Washington laws require slow moving vehicles to get out da way of the rest of us. I love that law.
� Oregon is the only other state (besides NJ) where you can't pump your own gas. We pull into Tillamook near dusk and a high school girl comes out to fill 'er up. Then we head for the coast.
� Along the way, the Tillamook Air Museum: "They have all different kinds of air in there," I say. Or was it Matt? Or Dave?
� Matt, on the Oregon Coast at Cape Lookout, in Grover voice: "Hello boys and girls, today we are going to look at the Pacific Ocean. The Pacific Ocean is al lthe way over on the West Coast and we're here in New York City on Sesame St. The Pacific Ocean is ... far ... Atlantic Ocean, near ... Pacific ... far ... Atlantic ... near ...
� At 8:55 p.m., we determine the Cutest Girl of the Day: Georgia H. at Microsoft.
� It's 9 p.m. in Tillamook and all is quiet. The Texaco is closed for the night; dinner at KFC. Tillamo-o-o-o-k we say in high voices.

Oregon, Aug. 8
� A stop along the road on the way to Crater Lake to look at Diamond Peak across Odell Lake. The cool air under a warm sun along a quiet mountain road.
� I find it's hard to drink soda from a can while driving an Explorer with the windows down, the rushing air pushing the drink back into the can.
� We arrive at Crater Lake and come to North Junction of the Rim Drive and walk up the gravelly slope to the rim, looking down on the deep blue water of the pristine lake. And a kid kicks dirt on me, to the horror and embarrassment of his parents. I just laugh. And hold myself back from pushing him over the edge.
� A young girl on the rocky, uneven, ascending Watchman Trail up to the peak: "Daddy, my legs are too short for this steep."
� Lunch at an empty picnic area: No sound but the soft silence and the gurgling brook of Sun Creek. Even my footprints on the soft dirt covered with pine needles and branches were like whispers in the woods.
� Driving out of the park, back toward I-5 and Eugene, I look out the window and see the rushing North Umpqua River through the trees. Around the next turn, we speed by a turnout and double back for some pictures. We spend time on the banks of the river, watching the flowing water in the fading afternoon light, the day growing darker earlier because of the tall trees surrounding us. The clear, cold mountain river cascades over the rocks, a soothing clatter. "The Pretty Damn Cool River," Dave christens it. Our water bottles, last closed at the elevation of Crater Lake, are now collapsed, compressed by the heavier air here, only 10 miles from the park but several thousand below it.

Back to Washington, Aug. 9
� Oregon plates: LUV-U and OR BRED, to distinguish from the Californicators.

Aug. 11, back near Seattle

� Washington plates: WEBDSGN. Could be anybody's.
� Coffee bars are everywhere. I know everyone knows this, but they ARE. Including the movie theaters, the ballpark. The minor league ballpark in Everett. In fact, it was the most upscale, shiniest part of the old park. I bet there are coffee bars in high school football stadiums out here.
� An early-morning drunken letter to an ex-girlfriend that will stay in the notebook, because I don't know if it needs to get out.

Mt. Rainier, Aug. 12

� A two-car caravan -- Dan and his sister in his convertible; Dave, Matt, myself, Emily and Peter in Matt's Explorer (the Firestone Death Mobile, this being the exact week all those stories and suits come to light).
� Christine Falls, Narada Falls, Nisqually Glacier.
� At Box Canyon, six of us peer over the edge of the bridge, down into the gully below, understanding gravity. Across the road, Matt takes a picture -- "6 Asses On A Bridge."
� At Sunrise Summit, 6,400 feet at 7:45 p.m., it's 43 degrees. The clouds on this side opened for a clear view of the summit -- another 8,000 feet up in the air.
� Dan and I: "Dan lovin'!" And, with Emily (E-Love) between us, it's a Danwich.