“The Cabin”, Hotsprings, & Sailing!


Let the sailing summer begin!

Back-story:  Garrett and I have been friends for eight years.   Ever since I’ve known him, I’ve known about “the cabin” – a family-owned piece of heaven somewhere in the Oregon woods.   Despite all our talk and my love of the outdoors, I’ve never actually made it to the cabin – until now!

Back-story #2: Garrett’s newfound love is sailing.   A big part of my summer plans  were joining some of my Humboldt “family” (Toby and Nathan) on their summer sailing adventure  whenever  they made  it up to Oregon/Washington from Cali.

Obviously it was perfect for us all to meet up at “the cabin” near the rather large Detroit Lake in Oregon!

We had four days  and three nights of bliss!   The first day Garrett’s  childhood friend Micah joined us.   By late afternoon we had the boat (Lhungta  or “good winds”) on the water and were enjoying a gentle sail.   Then it was off to the cabin to de-winterize, cook up some grub, enjoy libations by the fire, play music, and laugh and talk all night!

The crowning jewel was the hot springs resort down the road.   Apparently the resort generally allows respectful cabin owners to come down and use the facilities.   We  finished off the evening with an  awesome moonlight visit to several delightful hot  pools by the rushing Breitenbush River.   Heaven!

One of my favorite mini-rituals I adopted at the cabin was a morning run in the woods.   It was an awesome way to start every day – dashing through the trees!   Second favorite: outdoor showers.   My new traveler shampoo is awesome, and it was so fun to fetch water from the spring, scrub down in the sunshine, and then douse with pot after shocking  pot of water.

Micah took off early the second day, and the rest of us  hit up the lake for  a day of bonafide sailing.   It was great!   We were so exhausted at the end of the day, we didn’t even make it to the hot springs after dinner.

Our third day dawned  full of rain clouds, so we opted for hiking instead of sailing.   The unusually late  precipitation and low temps that plagued (helped?) most of the western U.S. this spring/summer meant Garrett’s favorite trail was still snow covered.   We went a few hundred yards on a slushy three foot snow pack, but my sandals (didn’t have room for boots!) weren’t up to the sloppy challenge.   Instead we navigated back roads Garrett always wanted to explore and ended up on a gorgeous, lower elevation hike to a lake surrounded by blooming Rhododendrons.   Amazing!

We made it back to the cabin in the late afternoon and went for a daylight dip in the hotsprings.   After our busy day, I practically melted.   At dinner, the increasingly brave chipmunks (we thought we’d been protecting our food from mice) started joining us indoors.

We had some pretty hilarious shoe-chucking, broom-chasing bouts while we lounged by the fire and the boys helped me with my chronically challenging shoulder.   By sunrise the next morning, the chipmunks had no fear remaining and blithely flitted about the room on a food  attack mission.   (Frustrating, obviously, for those of us who spent late hours fireside and didn’t want to get up with the sun.   ARGH!)

After my last cabin run 🙁 we chipmunk proofed the cabin (as best as  one can) and went to pack up the boat.   A sudden downpour left the three people with rain jackets handy doing the final tie down while I supervised from the car – sorry boys!  (see photos.)   Garrett’s aunt and uncle live an hour from the cabin, so we stopped to see them on our way to our next adventure.   They sweetly let us do laundry (Toby and Nathan were especially hurting in this department), made us an amazing cobbler, and let us fix dinner in their kitchen.   Pinna and Terry were so charming, warm, really engaged, and interesting folks to talk to.    We wished we could have stayed longer!

We parted ways with  Garrett in Salem – he headed south to Eugene, and we  made headway on our ultimate  destination –  Lake Chelan,  Washington!

Vancouver Vacation & Portland Pals


The lovely Tai turned me loose in a Portland park on Memorial Day, and Amy rescued me minutes later from smelly cigarette wioman.   Amy was my first college friend and is fun, fascinating, sharp, brilliant – awesome!   It was just like old times as we picked up her man, went out for a Zells brunch, and played spades into the afternoon.

Sochetra  (awesome former college roommate) and Jeff made it back to town in time to catch the end of REI’s monster sale.   I met up with them while they shopped and spent two more fun-filled  days with them in Vancouver (just north of Portland).   I got to meet the cats, spend time in their beautiful, light-filled home, tour Sochetra’s handiwork that’s turned their backyard into a little paradise, make awesome meals, and get schooled at scrabble.   I definitely recommend the lovely hikes and walks we did along the Columbia in Vancouver near Patterson (!!!) Air Base and Capitol Hill in downtown Portland.

Also amazing was the pulled pork and Trivial Pursuit night at the neighbor’s (I proudly held my own in spite of competing against others who were actually alive when the game came  out).   The only rain we got was during our delightful meal at ‘Por Que No?’ – perfect!   My most interesting discoveries, at the gorgeous Rose Garden, was that purple roses are by far the strongest, and that smelling rich roses leaves me feeling strangely full – as in not hungry.   What gives?

Sochetra  had to go back to work Wednesday, so I was on to round two with the amazing Amy.   She lives in St. Helens – a great little community 30 minutes north of Portland – and commutes for her jobs in Portland.   We spent the afternoon playing spades and lounging, and then it was off to the Old Spaghetti Factory where she waitresses part-time for extra cash.   I was delighted  to get to partake in the pasta mecca by way of their gluten free options.   And of course I ate all my ice cream and Amy’s, too!   After meeting up with her rad friend Lydia and her man Robert, we hit up the Ambassador karaoke scene.   It was perfect!   Not very many folks, plenty of silly routines, so much fun!

The next day, I got to go into work with Amy for her other job – a volunteer coordinator at a cool non-profit.   In between internet-ing, I set out on an adventure to find more of the special travel shampoo.   I ended up lost in the hills above Portland in fancy neighborhoods next to one of the fancy colleges.   It was a great self tour, and it only cost me a tank of gas and one delicious Laughing Planet lunch.

Thursday night I was flattered  to get my wish for a Portland meet-and-greet.   A childhood friend of mine is getting married this summer.   The stage is set  for an awesome wedding, and I saw an opportunity to get to know the numerous  P-town folks who will be in attendance.   Chris and his fiance, Julie, hosted a killer evening.   Their friends are amazing as were the  to-die-for dishes and libations!   Afterwards, Amy and I tackled the commute back to St. Helens  together – it was really fun getting to be a part of her life!

At the Chris & Julie fiesta, one of my high-school-best-friends was in attendance, and we arranged a weekend reunion.   Deb’s man-friend, Jesse, collected me from Amy’s care on her way to an out-of-town  music fest.   Together Jesse and I got lost and then found until we finally ended up at Deb’s work.   After a lovely dinner with a friend of Deb’s, our prospective plans with Chris turned into my prospective plans as work-week exhaustion set in.   I inappropriately complained about our lack of posse for awhile (Julie packing for a trip, other friends either staying home or at clubs) before settling down and enjoying an awesome evening.   We  dabbled in  creative cocktails at an establishment serving a plethora of infused liqueurs and liquors before making fun friends at the rooftop bar that we ended up closing down!

I was grateful to have Chris and Julie’s guest bedroom as my unexpected resting place.   Too many Sake Margaritas made the “gentle” (*earsplitting*!) setting on the early alarm a bit painful.   I managed breakfast in Multnomah  Village with the same crew from the night before.   Then Deb, Jesse, and I met up with the capricious and wonderful Ben Carver – another college friend of mine.   The afternoon was perfect with found free paints, yummy mid-day mexican, and life-size Jenga.   Everyone else retired, and Ben and I rode bikes downtown to shop, grab food-cart Thai, and people watch pre-Rose-Fest-Starlight-parade.

That night, Garrett sent “his people” for me.   He’d just finished the daunting CFA-II exam as mentioned in a previous  blog, and had been celebrating  ever since.   His friends Tom and Sermine  (who, as the six degree rule would have it, are also friends with Jeff and Sochetra) were hosting him.   The four of us met up with Deb and Jesse at the infamous Papa Haydens for some out-of-this-world desserts.

The next day at Deb’s I finally got a good swing in on my fight against vacation poisons (too much celebrating, not enough moving).   We had a glorious run at the track nearby, explored Powells  (why can’t I quit buying books?!), and braved the line at Voodoo Donuts (mmmm Maple Bacon Bar!).   In the morning Deb was off to work, and I was off to my next vacation destination – Detroit Lake and “the cabin”!

Portland Peregrination


When I talked to my friend Tai several weeks ago about her desire  to make  a life change, I quickly did the math.   I had lots of free time, a holiday weekend was coming for her, and we were both wanting to be in Northern Oregon.   She’s considering Portland for her next home, so I leapt at the chance to show her around the city.

We’re both on budgets, and we needed help learning about the city from  various perspectives.   We turned to Servas, a wonderful organization with a mission that sounds a bit fluffy, but really works quite  well.   Officially they are into “international peacekeeping.”   They connect interviewed and approved hosts and travelers in various places.   Servas  reasons that misunderstanding based in fear is the foundation of unrest.   So, they promote cultural exchange and hopefully understanding.   I am a U.S. host with access to inter-country reciprocity.   I arranged two places for us to stay, and we were off!

Bonnie and Pete are, as far as we could tell, a really wonderful couple.   Both doctors, involved in community, and well traveled.   So much so, that they were traveling during our planned stay.   Sweet, trusting folks that they are, they did what had been done for them in Italy once.   The key to their gorgeous home was under the mat when we arrived on Friday!    We ate dinner to NPR, chatted with their neighbor who came by to check on us, and got lots of rest!

Saturday the city was filled  with the pulse of the annual Rose Festival.   In the A.M. we ventured on free public transit across the river to  the downtown Saturday Markets.   Vendors had countless treasures on display  – jewelry, handmade soaps, tulip  lamps,  dog treats, BBQ sauce, and more!   The Farmer’s Market  even hosted a few  of the notorious food carts we’d been admonished to try.   An amazing crepe made the cut for Tai!

In the afternoon, we moved on to new  Servas  hosts in North Portland.   Yes, it’s amazing to have a swanky, historic house all to yourselves.   But our goal to interact edged out the posh digs.   Courtney and Matt were great!   She’s a professor and he’s an enthusiast and community organizer.   They incorporated us into their lives, shared their wealth of knowledge about the city (they’ve lived in almost every part), drove us all over town sightseeing, and gave us our space to explore more in depth.

We declined the offer to spend Saturday night  at an event our hosts were obligatorily  attending.     Instead, we set out for Ethiopian, but couldn’t resist the food cart treat of grilled cheese (gluten free bread!!!) in a school-bus-cum-dining-facility.

After a Bubble Tea dessert, we started dialing folks I knew  who might want to play (and tell Tai about their version of Portland).   We scored an evening with the beloved Ben Carver walking about Hawthorne & Burnside, dining at East Burn, drinking cherry porter, and attempting to break into the  Chopsticks karaoke scene  before Tai and I headed back a’la  our self imposed curfew.

Sunday, after a NoPo (north Portland) Farmer’s Market tour, we joined the Memorial Day masses in “the Gorge.”

This scenic stretch east up the Columbia River is home to dozens of beautiful waterfalls, and scores of amazing hikes.   We drove past the famous and hopelessly packed Multnomah  Falls (tallest in Oregon) and squeezed into a parking spot at Eagle Creek.   The highly recommended trail loomed over a beautiful canyon and creek below.  Often we held onto steel cables as we traversed a narrow path cut out of the edge of a muddy, slippery cliff!

We were rewarded with two waterfall views before we headed back to town to shop on 23rd.

Tai found some hot items in a few boutiques and happened upon some soap I’ve had on my wishlist  for months.   It’s shampoo with the water removed and purported to be  the traveler’s perfect toiletry.   So far I love it, but it will be put to the real test when Pat and I run the wedding gauntlet in August.

Sunday night we managed a quadruple culture shot.   We finally made it to Ethiopian. We had to-die-for-dessert at the Montage where flaming drinks abound and leftovers come wrapped in three-foot-tall aluminum-foil sculptures.

We got lost in Powell’s – a bookstore encompassing an entire city block with a maze of mezzanines and levels all identified by color.   We finished the night with our hosts at Voodoo Donuts, infamous for its creatively named and quirky donuts.   From the Old Dirty Bastard (regular donut topped with Oreo’s, peanut butter, and chocolate), to the Tex-ass Challenge (a supersized regular donut – eat it in under 80 seconds, get your money back), to the Maple Bacon and the Gay Bar (yes, maple frosting topped with bacon, and a cream filled bar with a rainbow of fruit loops, respectively), we had a blast!

Monday Tai headed back to Humboldt with a wealth of new Portland knowledge, and began work on my second Portland goal – see all my P-town friends!

Study Buddy & Eugene Ambassador


My good friend Garrett and I met eight years ago in a mandatory training class for a U of O Housing job.   He is funny, positive, spontaneous, adventurous, and an awesome friend.   This blog was almost about the two of us traveling together for half a summer in Mexico, but Garrett is allergic to planning and coordinating.   Right now he is living in Eugene and studying for the CFA-II (Chartered Financial Analyst?) in a week or so.   It’s a big, challenging test, so most of my time here has been spent having quiet time on the other computer trying desperately to catch up on my blog.

When I got into Eugene from the farm, I pulled Garrett away from his studies and we took a walk around his old neighbourhood seeing the sights.   It was peaceful and fun to see him reminisce about all the places he hasn’t been in years.   Then I was off for a lunch date with a random blast from my past. Backstory: several months ago on Facebook I got a “’so-and-so’ wants to be your friend” message from a guy I knew in another lifetime.   Kevin, Chris, and I were like the three musketeers for a wild summer and then some: the advent of ICQ (like MSN messenger) was fertile ground for our friendship.   After some legal troubles, Kevin disappeared and I never heard from him again.   Isn’t facebook amazing?

He happens to be attending my alma mater, so I arranged to meet him at my favorite campus Chinese lunch spot.
It was an awkward reunion in a shared tables restaurant with the very-much-changed Kevin yelling over the subtle din.   Afterwards we circled the campus checking out all the changes, most of which I found hideous.   The U of O is a combination of  historical Victorian-era buildings combined with others of excellent brickwork, for the most part.   The campus has an ivy-league-ish presence — much loved and very uncommon for a state school.
Now, at the leading edge, they have constructed two new gleaming silver and concrete edifices — both paying homage to the athletes and the athletics program which provide a fat cushion for the university.   Jocks rule, nerds drool, I guess.
I successfully posed as a student to visit the art museum with Kevin (it was closed  for renovation for precisely the number of terms I was a student there), and spent a few hours wandering  the exhibits.   Halfway back to my car the ever-present rain started drumming and we parted ways, leaving me with time to shop for Lauren’s birthday present and arrange a free visit to the local gym before dinner.   I’d met Garrett’s parents before, but never gotten to spend time with them.   We made a quick pesto/pasta/salmon dinner, I introduced them to Slug Slime (a Los Bagels beloved spice), and the succumbed to pumpkin pie (filling for me) and homemade whipped cream.   Twice.   Mmmm!
In the morning, I managed to get Garrett out for a hike up Mt. Pisgah — a local peak.   Unfortunately for us, the looming rain clouds swallowed us up just thirty seconds after reaching the summit.   Glad for a peek at the view, we gave up our meager shelter under oak trees and succumbed to being completely soaked on our return trip.

Back home, after several hours of Portland plan-making for the next week, I headed to campus to attend a “Women Travelers” seminar I’d heard about.   It ended up being a terribly disguised speech by a Hostelling  International representative chock full of dated and dangerous advice (she hadn’t traveled since the 90’s and told a questioning woman that, faced with unwanted physical attention from men on the road, she should grin and bear it in order to  avoid cultural offense!).   Ack!   The whole ordeal faded quickly in the face of a yummy quinoa veggie dinner topped off with another round of pumpkin pie.

 Coordinating visits to friends is significantly more complicated and stressful than just traveling — so I stayed up too late lining out more plans for Portland.   In the morning, I rushed to prepare for the impending car-ditch.   I needed three different sets of gear (city, cabin, sailing/backpacking) to be spread among four different bags and three different vehicles ultimately landing me in Vancouver, B.C. with only one bag to impose upon whatever ride I find back south.   I managed to get it together, late of course, which worked well for Erica.

Erica and I met in Arcata when I unexpectedly worked/volunteered a stint as a pre-school gymnastics teacher right after Pat and I moved to Humboldt.   I trained her on the ins and outs of managing a wild bunch of screaming, leaping, tumbling, cutest-things-you’ve-ever-seens, and we hit it off on subsequent  bike rides, hikes, etc.   She graduated from HSU  recently, and has moved back to Oregon to re-establish residency before getting her masters at the U of O.   I was delighted  to play Eugene tour guide.   I took her up Spencer’s Butte, pointed out hot spots, went on a walking tour, happened across a free beer tasting, introduced her to a few old haunts (High Street McMenamins, Max’s), and ended up at a place I never knew existed but apparently has for years.

I was right at home at “The Cooler” — essentially a giant barn complete with karaoke and $1 well drinks (obviously the makings for a wild evening).   We had a great time, sang our hearts out (or was that me?), and ended up at a dive in West Eugene to finish out the night.

We made it out to Studio One — the most awesome French toast in the world — for breakfast in the morning, went for a nice morning stroll, visited Skinner’s Butte and then I was off to meet Tai for our Memorial Day Weekend tour of Portland and drop off my car to be  babysat at the farm (thank you Matt and Lauren!).

Farm Friends


I had a great time in Humboldt visiting my CASA kid and having a few days to get personal affairs in order. Tearing myself away from Pat on Sunday was a challenge. I told Matt and Lauren (former college-roommate and much-admired lifelong friends) I’d make it to Eugene by mid-afternoon, but I seemed to keep finding all sorts of little domestic things to do that can be so enjoyable to do as a couple. We went to the gym, made breakfast, went on a walk, picked rosemary for Matt and Lauren, loaded the car, and suddenly it wasn’t 6 a.m. anymore.

 I thought I could make up time on the road, but those plans came to a screeching halt — literally — as I rounded a bend in the I-5 with a pack of five other cars and suddenly rubber was burning in all directions. The traffic was at a dead-stop for five minutes, then crawled for over an hour, completely dashing my hopes of claiming some semblance of an on-time arrival. Argh!  

 Despite my tardy arrival, Lauren, Matt and I still had a fun afternoon and evening planting a few things in the garden, catching up, and sharing a wonderful meal. I love the farm where they live and am always so impressed to see all the fun projects they are working on.

Da78354c05-5191050c6af6a6e2f44aac8  

Right now they’re putting in a hand-hewn cedar fence, just planted a wonderful fruit orchard, and they put in filbert (hazelnut) starts in the front pasture. I can’t wait to see it in a few years! Barely second to my wanderlust  is my crush on the pastoral life. Both Pat and I would love to have a place out of town and live a subsistence existence. Maybe someday when my love of travel subsides. (Ha!)

Lauren had to work until the afternoon the day following my arrival, so I busied myself with a run in the countryside, then tidying up, potting the basil starts, and watching the bees and hummingbirds go crazy with the sugar-water feeder.

Dfb1538b11-1ab5bb69ff97531a8130878  E490d91431-1a07d7176f7a46e5785b6b8  

Lauren made some killer mac’n’cheese for dinner, and the only thing that would have made the evening better is having Pat there. Lauren and Matt are one of our favorite couples to spend time with, and I knew Pat was sad to be  missing it. After a fun breakfast on Tuesday morning, complete with freshly ground and hydrated black beans from last year’s harvest (like refried beans), Lauren was off to work and I was off to Eugene!

Mystery Bonanza


This is one of the most mind-boggling things that has ever happened to me.   I’m still speechless!

The story: I’m visiting Pat and my CASA kid for a few days before heading north to Eugene, Oregon then Portland, Oregon, then onto sailing in Washington and Canada.   I arrived yesterday, P.M.   I spent my morning on a frenzy of “I-live-in-my-car-now” list of to-dos that are more easily accomplished in a home with internet.

Around lunch, Wonderful Neighbor Meg from upstairs comes a-calling with myriad business items, including a package that was delivered  accidentally to their door.   It is addressed  to me, as big as a bag of potting soil, and relatively light.   We pontificate about what it might contain while I find a tape-slicing device.   As I saw away at the seams, it dawns on Meg that perhaps it was meant  to be  delivered to her as a way of keeping it secret from the recipient until the appropriate  time.   She tackles the box just as I pull open the final  seam and see an Arcteryx logo.

  • Educational Tangent:
    What is an Arcteryx?   That doesn’t matter.   What does matter is that Arcteryx  is the brand-name for the maker of the new Altra  backpack.   This is the Ferrari of backpacks.   Perfect design features, unbelieveable  ergonomics, extreme durability… clearly anyone who likes to carry survival items into the woods for extended periods of enjoyment would salivate  at the mere thought of this backpack.   Clearly, a woman who is not above sustaining herself for multiple days soley  on bananas and peanut butter (that’s me) would never in her life deign to spend the kind of money it takes to buy a Ferrari.   Or an Arcteryx.   Unfathomable.

So, Meg demands that I wait, or at least call Pat who may know about a surprise backpack before I explore the package further.   I concede, but Pat knows nothing.   I open the box all the way and find that yes, it really is an Arcteryx  Altra 62 backpack in black with my name on the shipping label from a business called “Hermits Hut” in Redding, California three hours east of Arcata.   The hunt is on as I unzip every pocket and compartment searching for an explanation.   Nothing!

In the bottom of the box is an envelope.   In the envelope is a brochure about the business that shipped the backpack.   In the brochure is a receipt with my name on it.   I call the number on the receipt, talk to the cashier whose name is listed  as the responsible party for processing the order on Cinco de Mayo at 6:10 p.m.   A condensed version of the conversation is as follows:

Me: Hi.   My name is Jema.   Can you tell me who the buyer was for receipt #10014?

Him: You were.

Me: No, I wasn’t.

Him: It was purchased with a money order that came in the mail.   According to our records, you are the buyer.

Me: This is impossible.   This is the most amazing backpack on the planet.

Him: I know.   I sell them everyday to people around the world.   It’s the best.

Me: But, I don’t even know exactly how to get a money order.   Who did this?

Him: I don’t know, but I want to know, too, so they can be my friend!

Me:   Unbelieveable!   Okay, well, gee.   Thanks.   Arcteryx  Altra.   Wow.   That’s amazing.   Okay.   Well, thanks.   For helping.   Kind of.   Umm, have a great day!

The Usual Suspects: Umm… no one.   My parents?   Pat’s parents?   I can think of no one who:

a) knows that I agree that an Arcteryx  Altra is the most incredible piece of outdoor equipment on the planet

b) knows my “incredibly-difficult-cannot-be-divined-from-standard-city-planning-knowledge” address

c) *the clincher* – has enough disposable cash for the Ferrari of backpacks

Multiple phone calls later to people who might have answers, I am still dazed and confused.   And awestruck.   And beginning to dare to entertain thoughts of outdoor adventures, hopefully with nephews in tow, while I volunteer to carry a hundred pounds of group gear in my ergonmically  incredible Arcteryx  Altra.

I haven’t given up the search yet.   I would like to know, so I can express my awestruck grateful sentiments, who are you?!

Santa Barbara & Northbound Riders


First — the great news — Pat is going to travel with me this whole summer (starting in July).   I’m so excited!

Anyway”¦ Adrian zoomed us home from Sequoia National Park on Sunday in record time.   After showering and posting my craigslist ride offer, I got right down to business on my remaining to-dos: go on a motorcycle ride (Adrian bought a “crotch rocket”) and hopefully a plane ride (A is working on hours for his commercial pilot ratings).

Santa Barbara is on the south-facing coast of southern California and is backed by some really beautiful mountains.

I pled my case and we ended up on a really fun, fast, corner-filled sunset motorcycle ride with amazing views of the coast and the valley on the other side of the mountains.

Definitely top five rides ever!   Then we pieced together dinner from our backpacking leftovers and ate and watched a movie with Pieter.   I never would have picked up Sherlock Holmes for myself, but it was actually pretty good!

Monday I had the house to myself while everyone was at work.   I dried out camping gear, managed and coordinated a plethora of interested craigslist riders, went on a gorgeous run down to the waterfront, walked around on the pier and up State Street (the fun commercial district), and got food for dinner.

I begged Adrian for a plane ride when he got off work, but I got shut down by poor weather conditions and his groggy, sinus-drug-addled brain.   My consolation prize was another motorcycle ride – this time to the neighboring municipality that is home to UCSB (University of California – Santa Barbara).   Then we went up to Pieter’s campus and on a tour of various Santa Barbara highlights (courthouse, mission, etc.)

I broke out the glass noodle salad I learned to make in Thailand for dinner, and we three musketeers finished off Sherlock Holmes complimented by a hefty, unnecessary, delightful rounds of beer and popcorn.   It was a great end to my visit!

The following morning, I needed to head back to Humboldt to see my CASA kid before she left on a three week vacation.   I am doing my best to see her as much as possible this summer.   Tuesday at 6 a.m. came earlier than imagined, but I made it to my first of five craigslist rider pick ups for the day on time.   Ariel was wonderful!   Next we picked up Andre, who was quite a character.   Not only did he fail to give me an apartment number for a multi-acre apartment complex, not only was he not awake when we called him for said detail, not only did he let me call him “Ty” (actually ”˜thank you’ at the end of his email vs. the signature that I mistook it for), not only did he have the nerve to attempt to demand that the whole day revolve around what time he “needed” to be to his destination, but he was also a thorough so-cal cultural stereotype.   He was so absurd that he was funny, but everything worked out great.   Ariel, Andre and I zipped from Santa Barbara to Berkeley in record time with a short stop in San Jose to meet a guy who, after heavy negotiating by Andre, was talked into another form of transport.

I traveled the Berkeley to Santa Rosa stretch on my own, but then picked up Aren.   Craigslist is, for the most part, totally wonderful.   However, as with any online, stranger-meeting endeavor, it’s advisable to exercise a bit of suspicion.   I knew Aren (Santa Rosa to Humboldt) would be wonderful, but wasn’t sold on Michael (Ukiah to Humboldt).   Therefore, no Aren would mean no Michael.   The whole situation was complicated by none of us having cell phones.   In the end, I waited around outside a house in Santa Rosa for a half hour, Aren showed up, Michael showed up, and we all had a great time chatting the whole way back to Humboldt.   It was a pretty killer day — I had conversation/entertainment for almost the whole drive, and people pitching in for gas ended up covering all fuel costs.   Top it all off with dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant with Adam, Chelsey and brother Ben and you couldn’t find a happier Jema.

The Other Big Trees


My southern-most California stop was motivated by a four-year old promise to visit my friend Adrian when he moved to California around the same time I did.   We became friends in high school, dated for a year or so, and managed to salvage a good friendship in the aftermath.   As he put it in the  Grand Tetons between being forced to downclimb a dangerous cliff and getting struck by lightning, “I just don’t think I can be with someone who thinks this is fun.”   Ha!

The plan was for me to check out another “San/Santa” (Santa Barbara) and for us to go on a backpacking trip without getting struck by lightning again.   I gunned for Sequoia National Park so I could work on my bucket list.   I can’t live for years in the Redwoods and not compare them to the neighboring greats, right?

Upon my dinnertime arrival, I thought we’d whip up a meal, catch up, spend some time with his little bro (who is one of his roommates and was my all-time-favorite kid way back when), etc.   I had forgotten what a worrier Adrian is.   It was cute.   Of course he was immediately anxious about ironing out trip details, so we mixed in equal parts trip-planning and Adrian-heckling into the latter for a fun, funny evening.   More cute-ness: Pieter was appreciative of my “home cooking” (adding spices to chicken to make tacos).   Aww…

While Adrian worked Friday morning, I loaded up my ancient  backpack, bought and prepped all our food, and  hung out with Pieter.   We were on the road almost as planned and doing 90  towards L.A.  all afternoon (thanks, Adrian!).   I got to ride shotgun and teach myself about the  iPhone  the whole way.   I love it!

In the town outside the park, we needed to stop for the one thing we hadn’t found – instant refried beans.   We had an old-school/new-school battle of which I emerged the victor!   Not to sound like an old fogey, but not EVERYTHING needs to be done with technology.   Yes, I know you can type in to a google  maps search  “grocery stores Bakersfield” or “gas stations Pittsburgh” and get a few hits.   But you can also ask a person who lives there!   I left the bookstore next door to our 7-11 pit stop with directions to Winco in hand  (which wasn’t showing up in our google search!)   Old school victory!

Turns out Adrian has never been to a Winco – he loved it!.   It’s basically like a huge bulk/discount grocery store, but it’s employee owned.   I first learned about Winco when I moved to Oregon.   (The store’s name is actually an acronym reflecting the states in which the chain does business – Washington Idaho Nevada California Oregon.)   People in Humboldt would probably tell you Winco is the “ghetto” grocery store, and in Humboldt it’s kind of true based on typical clientele and location.   Ironically, this is not the case for any other Winco I’ve ever been to.   We left with many prizes, including a giant hunk of chocolate, wasabi peas, and distilled spirits.

Try as we did, our hope of a solid pre-arrival game-plan didn’t materialize.   At this time of year, snowpack uncertainties mean you can’t make decisions until you see trail conditions for yourself.   Our only goal was not to pay for camping, complicated by a thriving bear population and coinciding need to use bear devices for food storage (a vehicle doesn’t count.)   A five foot snowpack was pretty standard through most of the park.   To buy ourselves time to make a more educated assessment in the morning while meeting our “sleep for free” requirement, we ended up camping 100 yards in from a trailhead and running back and forth between the car/bear box and our tent.   Oh so funny!

We made it through the night on the snow without turning to ice cubes.   However, I decided in the a.m. that I would use Adrian’s second sleeping bag over the top of mine the following night.   After much deliberation and bear drama, we chose a trailhead with a bear box a few miles in instead of waiting for the visitor’s center to open so we could rent a bear canister.

Packing two sleeping bags into my too-small, very basic, ten-year-old backpack was a challenge all its own.   Thankfully Adrian was around to carry the extra stuff. (Gracias, amigo!)   The first mile or so of the Twin Lakes Trail was a snow-free, south-facing climbing switchback that affords better and better views of the valley with each step in the ascention.   It wasn’t long before the trail headed into the trees and we were following trail blazes (signs every 50 yards or so nailed to trees) on top of an enormous snow pack.

Our luck with trail blazes ran out at a junction.   After running in circles looking for the next one and scrutinizing our dubious topo map, we decided to carry on based on landmarks/features.   Follow this creek on the east until we get to “x”, then cross at the confluence and follow the next until we get to “y”, locate valley mouth and continue toward highest peak, etc.   Anyone who has ever actually tried this knows the method isn’t as straightforward as it seems.   First: our map, in the eyes of an outdoor survivalist, would be given an F.   Ideally, we’d want a 7.5 minute map (extreme and precise detail) and should settle for no less than a 15 minute map (half the detail). Ours was more like a 30 minute map.   Second: following creeks is fine in late summer and fall.   Right now, however, all the snow is quickly becoming water, creating a plethora of convincing doppleganger waterways.   Third: Again with the snow – whatever isn’t becoming water is covering the rest.   As a result, the creeks – both factual and faux – frequently disappear into a snowbank and it’s anyone’s guess where they end up!

When it was clear (to me) that we were never safely going to get anywhere of significance, I started lobbying for a return to a melted out clearing on the slope overlooking the valley.   It was early, so we had the whole afternoon to dry out our hiking boots, bask in the sun, hang a bear bag (the last resort), play cards, and of course eat!   Adrian also thought it would be “fun” and “refreshing” to take a dip in the snow-covered stream, so I agreed to capture the moment so he’d end up with full bragging rights.

The double sleeping bag was worth every ounce of space it took up in my pack and delivered a delightful, down-encased night!   After breakfast we hansel-and-greteled our way back down the mountain.   I’ll grudgingly admit that Adrian’s tech-gadget GPS watch thing added a welcome bit of comfort when we reached spots where yesterday’s footprints had melted away.   A little over half-way down we ran into two other hikers who had followed our footprints in a few miles before giving up and making camp.   They missed out on a spectacular view!

On the way out of the park we hit all the hot spots – Giant Sequoia groves, Moro Rock, and Visitor’s Centers.   The Sequoias seem about the same average size as the Redwoods.   The textbooks give the blue ribbon for size-potential to the Sequoias.   They can get bigger around, and their trunks tend not to taper as they grow skyward.   The forest containing the trees, however, is very different.   There isn’t much understory to speak of, compared to a Redwood forest.   The Sequoias have a quiet majesty when compared to the green chaos of the Redwoods.   I liked them!

Moro rock is a giant granite edifice with a ridge-line stone staircase that leads to the top.   It’s definitely Sequoia Park meets Machu Picchu – breathtaking the whole way up!   It was an incredible view and put some perspective on our hiking adventure.   The highlight on the drive back into the valley was all the blooming yucca – amazing!

Sequoia is great, and I’m so thankful that I got to see it before it gets really crowded.   I’d love to see it in the summer, but I don’t think I could handle the clamoring crowds.   I’m looking forward to returning someday, maybe in the fall, but for now it’s officially checked off my bucket list!

Santa Maria


Honey in hand from my impromptu beekeeping, I rushed back to my car (no parking ticket for the confusing multi-colored curb!) and headed to Santa Maria.

My uncle (mother’s brother) and his wife live in Santa Maria, and I was excited  to have more than just a fly-by  with them.  (They are not on Hwy 1, which was my original road/goal for getting down to Santa Barbara.  It seemed my time with them would be limited to a few-hour stop as I flung myself northward at the end of my southern sojurn.)

I arrived during the dinner hour, and they were so sweet to keep things warm and eat with me!  I got to meet their roommates, Tony & Chuckie, two younger guys.  They have a sweet little “family!”  In the a.m. I rose early with my uncle to chat with him and share some oatmeal.  He works at the Vandenburg Air Force Base, so he’s off early every morning for the long drive.  I squeezed in a quick morning workout before the house really came alive, and then we (his wife Catherine and I) set off on our adventure.

We went to learn about the local, infamous dunes and the folks who have set up shop out there over the years.  Since the furious spring wind was making the roads out to the dunes from the visitor’s center impassible, we moved on to stop number two – the Loofa farm!

Growing season is in full swing down here, so we passed hundreds of acres of strawberries, spinach, artichokes, etc, along with the hundreds of field workers plucking the bounty for our dinner tables.  I think it would be fascinating to do that job for a few weeks.  I can’t imagine how different it must be from my farming experience harvesting small bits of a variety of crops.

So, yes, loofas!  Who knew?!  I had one, long ago, on a stick, in the shower.  I didn’t know where the spun fibers came from, but I figured it was done  by a machine somewhere.  Not so!  A loofa  is basically a giant zucchini.  It grows on a squash vine, dies, dries up, the skin falls off, the seeds fall out, and you’re left with an “exoskelton” of what was.

Slice it into six-inch sections, and you have a “loofa!”  Apparently, those you buy in stores are heinous.  I felt the difference, certainly.  Most would think “soft loofa” is an oxymoron.  According to the believable proprietor, loofas  from outside the U.S. (most.  All if you’re a chain-store shopper) have to be  drenched in chemicals before they are allowed through customs.  As a result, they end up feeling like any fiber soaked in bleach, etc. would probably feel like.  Ick!  Yes, I bought one.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

Next stop: wine country!   Little did I know, the valley outside Santa Maria is home to vineyards who are fancy enough to stake a  claim to fame as the main setting for the movie “Sideways.”   Cool!   Tim and Catherine’s roommate, Tony, works at Firestone where many-a-scene was filmed, so we got to visit the members-only wine and taste on-the-house.   It was fun!   I also learned why the wine glasses my parents left with us have coon-skin caps.   Fezz  Parker – often better known for his role in Davy Crockett – has a winery in the same area.   Hence, “Davy Crockett’s” famous cap festoons most of the paraphernalia.   Later that night I was like an excited little schoolchild ready to share my discovery with Pat.   Turns out he already knew.

Final stop: famous Santa Maria strawberries!   We found a roadside stand staffed by a young blonde woman doing her homework and bought two delectable pints – one for their upcoming anniversary trip and another to feed Adrian.   Santa Maria success!   I’m having lots of fun so far and have seen so many gorgeous places.   I wish Pat was here to share it with me!

Couchsurf #2 – Morro Bay and SLO (San Luis Obispo)


I’ve never slept covertly, alone, alongside the road.   I learned recently, however, from my friend Andrew’s blog about his experiences doing so that the resulting fogged over windows are a dead give-away for enforcement personnel.   To avoid any potential hassles, I set an alarm for the crack of dawn.   Twenty minutes down the road I was de-fogged and enjoying the sunrise.   I pulled over at a trailhead and hiked to a nearby waterfall to eat breakfast.   It was pretty awesome!

The sublessor  I found to take my place in Humboldt is from Morro  Bay.   When she and her boyfriend came to visit, they told us lots about the town.   I knew it was small, so I made sure not to miss it.   I turned off at the first Morro  Bay road sign.   Turns out it’s not *that* small: I spent 15 minutes figuring out that the desolate look was a result of being on the outskirts of town!   I made my way to the Embarcadero  in time for the Yaquina  to enter the harbor.   I was excited to see a familiar “face!” (It’s the same Army Corps of Engineers boat that dredges Humboldt Bay.)

I chatted with a man out for his morning stroll and got some advice about seeing the town.   After taking in the Embarcadero  and all the educational signage at a waterfront park, I journaled  on a second-story boardwalk bench overlooking the bay until the Chamber of Commerce opened. I picked up a map to the “must see” state park the man had talked about and headed back to my car.   I had an fun  little educational moment with some old fishermen on the way.   I’m sure they meant well when they announced within my earshot “There goes that pretty lady again!”   I taught them to say “Good morning” instead.

Thanks to my technology void, I swung by the library to check my email in hopes that some of my couchsurfing  requests for SLO  (San Luis Obispo) had received responses and to get the ball rolling on a few back up plans.   Yes!   Alisha says I can “maybe probably not stay, but call her to meet up and we’ll see.”   Better than no answer!

Off to the must-see state park – Montana de Oro!   I’m so thankful for this advice and glad I took it.   From a distance, the land around Morro  Bay looks a lot like the land around Wyoming – sagebrush covered and a bit homogenous.   The geography is somewhat unique – there are seven cores of ancient volcanoes starting at the coast and moving inland which showcase the results of the crust moving over a hot spot over hundreds of thousands of year (like the Hawaiian islands).   I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why I’d want to go bum around in the sagebrush, save the view from the top of a volcano core, but the hike was well worth it!   The flowers were blooming, and up close the ecology of the landscape was breathtaking.   I chugged to the top of Valencia Peak, chosen by chance, and later found out I had climbed everyone’s favorite summit.   The view from the top was breathtaking!   Thanks to the low height of the vegetation, the whole trip back down was just as incredible.

Back in Morro  Bay, I decided to brave the public showers on the bay after seeing a fellow traveling woman take advantage of them that morning.   I didn’t want to turn up to meet a woman who would only host me if I made a good first impression after sleeping a night in my car and then hiking all day without showering.   Seventy-five cents later I was squeaky clean and having South America deja vu.

I fell in love with San Luis (colloquially known as SLO  – yes, pronounced “slow”) immediately.   I was charmed by the  unique font on the street signs (a mission holdover?) and the laid-back disposition of the town.   I had always envisioned skyscapers  and a bustling metroplois – or at least a wannabe metropolis – when people talked about the city and the university there.   Turns out it’s an incredible, sweet, perfect little place with a great downtown and awesome in-town hikes.

Alisha and I clicked right away (I’m sure the shower sealed the deal! :).   She was sure, if not her couch, she could find me *a* couch to crash on.   Good enough!   If worse came to worst, I could just drive the rest of the way to Santa Barbara and stay with Adrian.   Thankfully, what really happened was an incredible sunset hike up another volcano core on a “locals only” path.   We had the trail and the incredible view of the valley all to ourselves, minus the group of guys we passed on the way down.   After a delightful quinoa and veggie dinner at her house, we headed over to her boyfriend’s where I could “probably crash” that night.   Oh adventure!

Adam (boyfriend) was incredibly sweet, his roommates were equally fantastic, and I found myself enjoying a clean, safe, fun evening of conversation with great people and good wine.   Phew!   I had my pick of four different couches, slept great, and got up early to hike another peak with Adam and his friend.   On the way down, we crossed paths with Alisha just as she had hoped.   She had rounded up extra climbing gear and rushed to the trail she hoped we were on.   What a sweetheart!   We spent the afternoon climbing a top-roped section on Bishop’s Peak.   After lunch with Adam, I headed off to check out Cal-Poly (the college).

Louie – a roommate and childhood friend of Adam’s – had told me about the Cal-Poly beekeeping class.   My visit happened to coincide with harvest day.   When I asked Louie what would happen if I showed up to the class and tried to join in, he gave me directions and best wishes.   The teacher and his assitant were awesome – handed me a veil and gloves, and led the way to the hives.

There were about 15 hives all in a 20′ x 30′ pen in an orange grove.   It was pretty incredible to be  completely surrounded by an enormous swarm of buzzing bees and to feel them bumping into and crawling on my clothing as we smoked the hives and removed the full frames.   Some of the honey engorged frames, just the size of half a checker board, weighed over 20 pounds!   I learned that bees don’t like fleece (because their feet get stuck in the fabric) when one of the girls in the class raced away from pen covered in stinging insects!

We took the full frames back to a giant extractor.   First we slid the frames through a slicing press that opened up honeycomb that had been finished and plugged.   Then we slid 14 frames at a time into the spinner and spun out all the honey.   Finally, we ran the honey through a superfine net and bottled it.   And of course we pulled a sample off the tap to have with fresh bread and peanut butter.   It was so good, I wasn’t too sorry when my gluten troubles kicked in later that evening.

I love San Luis Obispo!