First, some thoughts to summarize my time spent in Portland; I definitely lucked out on the timing of being there, and that my couch surfing host was really nice and fun to hang out with. Ultimately, I got to do a lot of the standard touristy type stuff: eat at Voodoo Doughnuts, where I had a "Portland Creme" doughnut which looked/tasted suspiciously like a Boston Creme (sorry, but I still prefer Dunkin anyday), go to Powell's books store, hang out at the Rose Festival, ride a bike alongside scores of naked people, get a lofty parking citation. The unanticipated highlight of the trip was that I got to stay on the same street that one of my favorite musicians, Elliott Smith, used to live on, which also happened to be his adopted namesake. However, despite liking Portland in both atmosphere and layout, there was one thing that bothered me while I was there: it is so damned cliched and predictable. Everywhere you looked you were surrounded by hipster archetypes. That is, nearly every guy rode a bike or a cafe racer style motorcycle, wore thrift store clothes and had weird old timey facial hair, and nearly every girl had sleeve tattoos, wore bangs and worked as a barista. I, by contrast, was hopelessly normal looking, (although I doubt that will stop the people at work from calling me a self hating hipster. Also, I realize I use hyperbole here to convey the image of a very hip city, but obviously it is an exaggeration to say that every girl here is a barista. And, just to be clear, this is not meant to put down Portland for it's hipster ways. On the contrary, I rather liked its laid back attitude. I just don't think I'd fit in here in the long run).
Elliott with two T's
Two more observations about Portland. One, apparently, much like New Jersey, you are not allowed to pump your own gas here. This in general I find to be incredibly unnecessary and obnoxious, but when on a motorcycle the whole process becomes an excercise in the assanine. Here is roughly how the filling of one's tank goes if you are on a bike. 1) Pull up to pump and wait for an attendant to walk up. If they are busy with other customers or just MIA, you are out of luck and just have to be patient. 2) When Pumpy Magee does finally show up you hand them your credit card and tell them what grade you want so that they can swipe the card and push the button for you. 3) This is my favorite part: they hand you the nozzle and let you fill it yourself! Why?!?!? When I asked, the answer was that it is simply easier for you to do that part. (I like to imagine Lewis Black reading this and having one of his characteristic freakouts at this point). Oh, and the second observation, there are a lot of strip clubs in that city. Like, a lot.
About an hour or so West of Portland I was finally able to get to the Pacific Ocean. It was absolutely breathtaking, and quite frankly, what I've been waiting my whole life to see. Although, that cool ocean air made for quite a chilly ride. I took the opportunity to check out the sea lion caves which were interesting, but a little anticlimactic and probably not worth the $14 admission. I couldn't even stay that long because the stench was so unbearable. Fast forward a couple hundred miles and I crossed into California to be greeted almost immediately by Redwood National Park. All I can say is those be some big trees. I was able to hop off the 101 freeway and onto the Avenue of Giants for a bit to get some pretty good pictures. These things are so gargantuan that they literally block out all the sun in some patches of the forest making it a dark and eerie, not to mention brisk, ride. I ended up skipping out on seeing the drive thru tree, but instead cut towards the coast on the route 1 coastal highway, which was probably one of the windiest roads I've ever been on with my motorcycle. After 25 miles of tight corners and hairpin turns I was rewarded with this ocean view and a near empty campground at which to spend the night. Luckily the gorgeous scenary distracted me from the fact that it was so windy that my toes were numb by the end of the night and I hardly got any sleep. Still, the amazing ride that followed, which has deposited me into my current location at Point Reyes just North of San Francisco kept my spirits up even if I did need an emergency infusion of Red Bull mid way through the ride. It's effects are certainly wearing off now though, and I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow in San Fran, so now I'm going to sleep.
A stinky seal in his stinky cave.
Sorry I couldn't get in the picture for scale, but trust me, there's a lot of junk in that trunk.
Sunset over my beachside camp.
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