Poulsbo Trip: Chapter 1 - On Our Way

Foreword: I highly recommend bringing a notebook and a pen with you the next time you go on vacation. Every so often take just a few moments to jot down your thoughts and observations while on your trip. This will help you to remember details otherwise soon forgotten after the vacation is over, and you might even learn a thing or two about who you really are in the process.

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The Day Before: Thursday 7/12

5:20 PM: Highway Song

Just picked up our rental car from Avis for the trip, a 2001 Chevy Lumina with a little over 11,000 miles on the odometer. (It will be reading over 14,000 when I turn it back in.) It's just about identical to the one we rented last year for our trip to Colorado, white, with grey interior. A reasonably priced unlimited mileage rental, with cruise, overdrive, and a good sized trunk to stuff all of our things into for the 10 day trip to Seattle and back. Comfortable enough for a long drive, once you figure out the best seat adjustment and AC settings.

We hop in the car and start it up. (Nick wants to ride with me to check out the new car, so Viv is driving her van back alone.) The motor is so quiet compared to the cars we own. I have an 86 Mazda, Viv an 88 Voyager, both with over 100,000 miles on them. (We can't afford new cars, but at least I get to drive one when we go on our vacations.) I mess with the radio settings and tune in KLOS. More often than not I listen to alternative stuff, but there are times I like classic rock.

The light turns green at the corner of Sepulveda and Crenshaw. It take the corner just as "Radar Love" starts playing, one of my favorite old driving songs. I start singing along with it, not paying attention. Nick tells me I should slow down. I look down at the speedometer, we're going 55 but it feels like 35 to me. Better be careful, don't want to get a ticket before the trip even starts. I ease up on the gas a little and pat the dashboard like a pet dog: This beast is gonna be a good highway machine, ready to chew up the miles, but not until the morning. Now it's time to go home and start packing, then get to bed early. Gotta get up at 5:00, try to beat the morning traffic out of town.


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Day 1: Friday 7/13

6:15 AM: Good Morning!

I'm outside scribbling a few hasty notes down. It's cool and damp out right now, kinda quiet. We're still finishing packing though, be lucky to get on the road before 9:00. Stayed up till about 11:00 last night, just couldn't seem to get things done.

Gonna be a long day today, we'll try to get to Eureka by nightfall. We're going up the 5 out of LA, cutting across Oakland thru SF to the 101. Making a quick stop in Willits to visit people Viv knows up there, then on to Eureka. Day 2 we'll try to make Poulsbo (across the sound from Seattle) before nightfall. We'll see how it all works out.

On The Road: Even though we got a late start, the traffic isn't too bad. Making pretty good time so far. Past the mountains and into the central valley, scenery's getting kinda boring. Cool in the car, but it's getting hot outside (as we experienced getting out of the car at the last rest stop.) Passing big open semi's carrying tomatoes, garlic. Occasionally we see tomatoes on the road that fell from overloaded trucks near the curves.

Cow Hell: Passed by a huge dirt lot packed with cows in the blazing sun, hundreds of them. Not a tree or blade of grass on it, just piles of hot dirt and manure, and some feed thrown on the ground for them, probably containing ground up animal parts and byproducts. The kind of place I could imagine hoof and mouth or mad cow disease would breed in.The place stinks of bad cow manure (can smell it even in the car with the windows shut and the AC on.) If there is a Hell for cows, this is it.

On the Stereo: Listening to Star Trek books-on-tape that Nick & Viv picked out at the library. This one is Bill Shatner's "Star Trek Memories". Pretty interesting behind-the-scenes stories. At the end, he talks of how when he interviewed Nichelle Nichols (Uhura) she confronted him with the truth about how she and three of the others from the series really resented the way he treated them on the set. He was shocked, was totally unaware of this until then. (he wrote this in the mid 90's). He really thought he dealt with his co-stars okay, after all, he was the leading man. He didn't realize they thought he was an obnoxious arrogant jerk.

Some people can tend to act that way, and be oblivious to how their actions affect others. I know I have a tendency to be overbearing at times (like "I know what's best for you, so you should do it."). Viv won't let me get away with it at home, she lets me know when I'm getting too pushy. At work though, most people, (especially those with less job experience) don't complain. I wonder how many of them that smile and do my bidding really think I'm a complete asshole. I'll have to try to be nicer to my co-workers once I get back from this trip.

1:00 PM Firebaugh: Scenery: Spacious hot, dusty skies. Amber waves of weeds. Stopped here for gas and Subways for lunch. The clerks making the sandwiches are extremely slow, not like LA. Takes about 15 minutes for me to get ours, even though there were only four people ahead of me in line when we got here. Viv & Nick gave up, picked up beverages from the mini-mart, went outside to wait, left me here in line. Guy in front of me is a Mexican trucker, talking in Spanish with his wife or girlfriend. Another trucker comes in, the guy starts talking to him in perfect English, no sign of an accent.

Surprising to find out your first impressions are wrong, he's just a sun-tanned American who learned to speak fluent Spanish. (A useful thing in the central valley, I'm sure.) The two truckers are talking about hauling fruits and veggies. One's got a load of melons, offers to give the other a couple crate's worth to share with his family. Free produce, one of the fringe benefits of the job.

Back in the car: While eating our sandwiches, Viv mentioned how she asked the mini-mart clerk about the cow lot we passed an hour or so earlier. The clerk said she'd never seen it, but she didn't get very far away from town, just work at the store and then go home at night. Sounds like a pretty boring existence, I couldn't stand it. Gotta get out of town once in a while lady, there's a great wide world out there, more to life than Firebaugh... Time for us to hit the road.

Back on the road: Gonna take the 580 through Oakland, Berkley, cross the brige at Richmond into San Rafael. Scenery: Windmills, dusty dry hills. On the radio: An alternative station that's kinda fading. Playing Better Than Ezra "Extra Ordinary". I'm thinking how much it sounds like Sublime's "What I Got". Evidently the DJ agrees, because he plays it next. The station fades to the point of being unlistenable in the hills. Damn. I'll be glad when rental cars have satellite radio. (Maybe in a year or two.)

Traffic in Oakland, an accident in one of the lanes. I screwed up and we ended up going over the Oakland bridge into SF. Oh well, guess we might as well drive through and cross the Golden Gate.

In Town: Got a little lost, surface streets are kinda confusing. Cabbies & bus drivers are almost as bad as NYC, except in SF they don't even beep to let you know they're cutting you off. Lots of homeless people on the streets, one almost walks out in front of me & I swerve around. Nick comments: "There sure are a lot of bums around here!" to which I reply, "That's not politically correct, you should call them homeless." Viv chuckles at this, she know's I'm just being cynical. She comments about not seeing any business type people talking on cells. Nick says he just saw a guy on a cell phone, but he looked like a bum. I tell him he's probably a drug dealer.

Note: ("Are there no prisons? Are there no work houses?") In case you think I'm some heartless bastard who has no sympathy for those living on the fringes of society, I am fully aware of the plight of the homeless, and realize that most of them struggle with mental illness or drug and alcohol addictions which can cause a downward spiral that leads to ruin and life on the streets. I'm not just saying this, reading it from a book. I've struggled with my own demons in the past, and personally known people who have ended up on the streets because of serious substance abuse problems. I believe in charity, helping to give those less fortunate a chance to better themslves. A good portion of my charitable contributions for the year go to the LA Mission, a worthy organization that helps the homeless here in Los Angeles.

Crossing the Golden Gate: Nice views, but the traffic really sucks. Finally get to a spot where there'a a carpool lane, but it's only in effect after 4:30, which makes no sense to me. (It's only 4:00) Despite all it's other drawbacks, at least LA has good carpool lanes. Traffic all the way through Petaluma. Driving by places like Deaf Dog Coffee Shop and Nude Furniture. Stopped in Santa Rosa for gas & sodas, then back on the 101, more traffic.

Messing with the radio, I start to get that Northern California feeling. Got an Americana/Classic Rock type station on the radio, playing Jonathan Edwards "Sunshine". The song gets me thinking about when I moved to LA from Colorado back in the early 80's, how the person I was back then would probably say I sold myself out to "the System". I was in my 20's back then, still had long hair, drove an old Chevy van with a matttress and an icebox in the back. I took my time coming out, stopped and visited a friend In Monterey. Driving down the coast highway through Big Sur I picked up a hitchhiker. He offered me a beer from a six-pack he was carrying, I offered smoke, and we started talking. I told him I was headed for LA, and he said: "Too bad, man. You really shouldn't go there, that place is bad news, a smoggy hell filled with money-grubbing people who don't give a shit about anyone but themselves. People are much cooler up here."

I thought about it a little, I really had no commitments in my life at that time, but decided to continue on to LA. I told him I had a brother down there, and knew a place I could probably get a job. I dropped him off in Cambria and continued on my way. I sometimes wonder what would have happend, where I would be today, if I had stayed up north back then. Probably wouldn't have such a stressful job, or have to worry about my kid having asthma from the pollution. Might be a farmer up in Humboldt or something. But who knows, probably just wishful thinking. "The grass is always greener", as they say.

7:00 PM: Willits: Stopped to visit some folks Viv knows, drop off gifts from family in LA. Jim & Mary are really nice people, and they have a son, Sky, who is the same age as Nick. It turns out the boys have a common interest, electronics, so Sky takes Nick to show him some stuff he's working on, while Viv & Mary hang out and talk. I go with Jim next door to check out his pottery shop. Pretty impressive stuff, very artisic. If you're interested, you may want to check out their website: http://www.pyeintheskyepottery.com

It seems like a good life to me. A rambling old house in the country, lots of room for kids and dogs to run, a low-stress creative job, I would love it. The only thing is I don't have much artistic talent, I've tried it. The only thing I do for creativity is write, and I doubt I could make a living at it. All too soon we have to leave. We say our goodbyes and get back in the car. There's no way we can make Eureka now, but I'd like to get to Garberville at least. Tomorrow will still be a long drive from there.

Laytonville: The Cottage Motel: No way can we make it to Garberville, it's dark and I'm pretty bleary from all the miles we put on today. I spot a flickering motel sign and we pull in. Nice little place, free ice, and you can park right in front of your room. (I like cheap motels). My hand shakes as I fill out the registration slip, too many coffees and cokes today, trying to stay awake on the road. The owner has to kick his kid off the internet so he can run the credit card check, then he gives me the room key. He tells me that the place has a pool that's open late, but I'm not really interested. Just need a place to sleep for the night, then get back on the road early in the morning. I'm so burned out from the drive that it takes me four or five turns in the driveway to figure out where to park for our room, Viv is making fun of me.

We bring our stuff into the room and I look around and it hits me: This place looks like the place I stayed in the dream I had last week. (If you're interested, see "Dreamland", Chapter #3: "A Poolish Affair" in my portfolio) Viv laughs when I mention it, says maybe I should go check out the pool. I decline, but tell her if I see a scruffy guy outside in a paint-stained t-shirt, we're outta here! After a couple beers to counteract all the caffeine in my system, I'm ready to crash. Morning is gonna come way too early.


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Day 2 :Saturday 7/14

Laytonville: Up before 6:00. Nick Didn't sleep well, said he drank too much chocolate milk yesterday. (That, and sleeping in a different bed, probably.) I step outside to greet the day. Cool, quiet. No city background noise like where we live. I walk across the court to fill our cooler with ice, stop and say say good morning to a woman who is sitting on the porch drinking her morning coffee. There are a couple of Harleys parked alongside her cottage. I ask if they are just passing through. She says "No, we've been here for about a week." I guess some people come here to stay a while.

Walking back with the ice, a couple crows or ravens start squawking. I look up, they're flying high above the redwoods. One of them swoops down and lands at the foot of a tree a short distance from me and squawks, curious, as if to ask what I'm doing, or maybe just looking for a handout. "Hi buddy, what are doing there?" I ask the bird. He flys away, cawing, and I take this a sign that we'd better get moving.

Back in the room, I wash our breakfast dishes in the bathroom sink and look out the bathroom window: Overgrown dry grass, tall dandelions gone to seed. Beyond that a narrow road, a sagging old wooden fence covered with ivy, and a dusty SUV with a contented cat sleeping on the hood in the early morning sun. It would make a nice still life, if I knew how to paint. I'd probably use a little artisic licence though, and change the asphalt road to dirt, and the Explorer to a rusty old Willys.

Continuing on in my artistic frame of mind, I observe the objects on top of the toilet tank, standard hotel accoutrements: Three bars of wrapped soap stacked haphazardly, two little shampoo bottles, and a flat white bag that says " For Sanitary Napkins"... A modern still life? (If you think about it though, the napkins wouldn't be very sanitary by the time you put them in the bag, would they.)

We get back on the road before 8:30. Pass by a field with a sign advertising "The Hog Farm Pignic". We must be in Wavy Gravy territory, wonder what he's been up to? Last I heard he was still doing his charity thing, a really righteous and selfless guy if ever there was one.

Further down the road: Green fields with contented looking dairy cows, a much better scene than the "Cow Hell" we passed yesterday. Big round bales of hay covered in white plastic in some of the fields. Viv says they look like cow pillows, to keep them comfortable. I suggest maybe big marshmallows for the cows to snack on. Later we turn off the highway for a rest stop that is marked as an elk viewing location. They're magnificent beasts, and stupid tourists are walking out way too close to them, looking like they want to pet them or feed them bread. I kinda wish that old bull would toss the fat bastard with the camera next to him up on his antlers, teach him a lesson. Wild animals are not pets.

"...Sooner than wait for a break in the weather, I'll gather my far flung thoughts together,
Speeding away on a wind to a new day, If your alone I'll come home..."
We stop for lunch at Carl's Jr. Pink Floyd's "San Tropez" is playing on the sound system while I wait in line for our burgers and fries. Feeling good, today is getting off to a much mellower start than yesterday. We get back on the road, driving along the coast. Beautiful scenery: Tall trees, huge waves crashing on the rocks along the shore. Really wish we had time to make more stops. I shoulda given us at least three days to get to Seattle. Oh well, maybe next time...

Sign outside Cedar City: Expect up to 1 Hr. delays for roadwork on Rte 199 to Grant's pass. We take the exit, hopefully it won't be that bad. The road winds through the mountains, fog gives way to bright sunlight filtered through tall trees. We pass by areas where there have been recent rockslides, held back by battered chain-link fencing. A young woman in orange holding a stop sign flags us down, the roadwork delay. Don't know if I'd want her job, standing out in the hot sun all day, listening to a walkie-talkie for the signal to change the flag from Stop to Slow, and then back again. Still, it is beautiful country we're in. Viv & Nick get out of the car to stretch their legs and look around a little, I take the time to write these notes. We wait about 10 minutes, then are allowed to proceed.

Grant's Pass: Back on the main highway again, able to drive a little faster. At a rest stop to stretch our legs. Lots of tall trees, and the air smells clean. Viv & Nick are near a picnic table when I get out of the rest room. They're trying to entice a bluejay with pieces of stale bread. The jays have crests, look more like the ones I remember from Connecticut when I lived there. They're different than the scrub jays we see back in southern California.

The scenery in Oregon is beautiful, but we're not able to make as good time as I thought. Speed limits are lower, I get the feeling that people like to take their time about things up here, unlike back in LA. The lull of the drive starts to get to me though, afternoon grogginess setting in. I ask Viv & Nick to help keep me awake, so we try some road games. First we take turns finding objects visible along the road that begin with the letters of the alphabet. Then we make up interesting stories about people we see while driving. Believe it or not, we passed by a guy that was a spy whose job was transporting dead bodies in his truck down to Bakersfield to be buried in the cow lots. (Or at least that's the way we saw it.)

At another rest stop, south of Eugene. I called the people renting us the cottage and told them we were running late, we should be there by 8:00 or 9:00. They said no problem, they'd leave the place unlocked for us. (something you'd never do back in LA).

Through Portland and across the bridge, we get a great view of the river. Looking at my watch it's obvious we won't make it into Poulsbo by 9:00 though. Maybe 10:00, if we're lucky. We pass by the turn for Mount St. Helens, a nice view of the mountains in the distance. Nick is sleeping, tired from the long ride. Too bad he's missing this. This really is beautiful country. I wish we had time to stop, maybe on the way back. At least the daylight is holding up for us, twilight lasts a lot longer here than back home.

Daylight is fading fast as we cross the Tacoma Narrows onto the Kitsap Peninsula. I make a wrong turn in Bremerton and we end up down by the docks. I pull into a parking lot to study the map. Viv is nagging me to ask someone for directions, but I don't want to. (I'm just a typical guy, I guess.) I finally agree, stopping at a gas station. The cashier points me in the right direction and we're back on the road.

Outside of town, we notice how dark it is. A lot different than the LA metro area, where just about every road within a fifty mile radius has street lights. We turn onto the 305 for Poulsbo, finally make it to Sandy Hook Road. Now that we're this close, it seems to be taking forever to find the driveway for the cottage. There's supposed to be a wagon wheel out front next to the mailbox. We pass cottages with totem poles and mailboxes shaped like fish, but no wagon wheels.

Nick says "Maybe they moved it."

Viv says "Maybe we're in the Twilight Zone. We really died in a car wreck a while ago and don't know it. We'll just keep driving and driving and driving..."

Neither of these suggestions is very helpful to me. Eventually we spot the wagon wheel, and turn down a very steep narrow driveway surrounded by trees, and find our cottage at the bottom. The door is unlocked, as promised, so we carry a few things in and have a look around.

The place looks really great, just what we wanted. Clean and comfortable, plenty of room, and a deck with a view of the bay. It's getting late, already past 10:30. Viv works on putting the food away and unpacking necessary items, while Nick and I haul the rest of our luggage in. (It's amazing how much stuff you can cram into the trunk of a full-size American car!)

It's quite a bit cooler up here than we're used to. The cottage has a fireplace, but we're too tired to build a fire tonight. The owners left us a bottle of white wine next to a bouquet of flowers, but Viv and I aren't big wine drinkers. We settle for beer and sandwiches from the cooler, then soon enough we're ready for sleep. It's been a long day...


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