Exploring Oregon's Northern Coast

Heading south away from Astoria, I crossed the long bridge that separates it from the next town over. I had no schedule. I was completely free to do whatever I wanted right now. This kind of moment is what I had in mind.

The first stop was Fort Stevens State Park. I wandered around the park for a few hours, taking it all in. Fort Stevens is the only military fort in the entire United States that has been fired upon during wartime by an enemy since 1812 when it was attacked by a Japanese submarine in 1942! (I read that on the website, so if you didn't click the link above, I wanted you to know.)

Beaches at Fort Stevens State Park.

After that, I made my way to Gearhart. As I was walking through the dunes to get to the beach, a man and his dog walked by me. We acknowledged each other and I didn't think anything of it. 

The dunes here reminded me of the ones back home in New Jersey, except there are mountains on the horizon. In New Jersey, the ocean is flat forever. When I was young, I used to strain my eyes as hard as possible trying to see Europe. Turns out, you can't see Europe from New Jersey.

Gearhart, Oregon

Gearhart.

#Selfie

After Gearhart, I went through Seaside and Ecola State Park until I got to Cannon Beach. This is that famous one. Most of you enjoy referencing The Goonies. Go on, say it: "GOONIES NEVER SAY DIE!"

I have been to Cannon Beach once before in 2011 when I visited Oregon for the very first time. I decided to hang around and take photos. A lot of them. And since I have been told by at least two people that you only look at the pictures on here, this is for you. Jerks.

Cannon Beach, Oregon

Tiny little bird. Big ole rocks!

Creeping on other people's lives for a spot of color.

Goonies never say die!

#Selfie

I have about 3,000 more pictures of this place. (Selfless plug: If you want to buy any, let me know! It'll look great in a room, right?)

Back when I was on the Amtrak a week or so ago, hanging out with my new photographer friend, he told me that it was okay to ask people to take your picture. This seems awkward, but because I was alone, I would like to be in a picture every once in a while so you believe I was there and not stealing someone else's stock photos. That would be a weird thing to do.

I saw a man with a big camera taking pictures, like me. I asked if he wouldn't mind.

I was really there! This is not Photoshopped!

He asked if I was staying for the sunset. It was probably two hours or so away. "It's going to be a good one!" he said. 

I thought I was going to leave. But I was already here and I didn't know when or if I'd be coming back. And it was going to be a good one! So, I decided to take off my shoes and wander around the beach, taking 8 million more pictures. Live in the moment and ignore the imaginary feeling of having to be somewhere else. You are supposed to be right here! Say "Yes!"

I'm pretty sure the elves live here.

Goodbye, Sun.

Hello, Beautiful.

While waiting for the sun to set, the temperature was dropping. My feet were freezing. I could barely feel them by the time it was down. I felt like I was balancing on stumps and it was painful. 

In Oregon, unlike New Jersey, you can have fires on the beach. I saw a couple having a fire so I walked over and asked if they would mind if I tried to warm my feet before going back to my car.

They were clearly having a romantic evening, drinking white wine by this fire, on this beautiful beach. Instead of feeling like I was imposing, I would just pretend that I was invited, because my feet were cold and they said they didn't mind. 

I told them I was driving south towards Eugene. They told me that the roads are too dark and winding. I should stay and leave in the morning.

Eventually my feet were warm enough and I started walking back to the car. On my way, I passed a condo where two men were sitting on the balcony. One of them yelled down to me, "Hey! I saw you earlier in Gearhart when I was walking my dog!" 

Remember that?! Isn't that crazy?!?!

I stopped and stared at him for a second, said something useless, and then kept walking. I immediately regretted not trying to make friends! I am pretty sure that I was supposed to! And now I will NEVER know the meaning of that! The regrets we have to live with! It was too awkward to take five steps backwards now!

I ended up deciding to rent a room before all of the offices closed for the night. A man in his forties or fifties was at the desk, I'm actually no good at guessing ages. He told me he spent a lot of time traveling the United States and living abroad alone but he came back to run the business for his parents.

He gave me a gigantic condo with two rooms, a full kitchen, fireplace, balcony, and a jacuzzi overlooking the ocean for a low price under the condition I am definitely alone. (This definitely sounds creepier than it was. It was not creepy.)

I said, "I wish I wasn't." Even though I truly love the freedom of traveling alone, sometimes, it would just be nice to have someone to make decisions with. Stay or go?

After that was settled, I walked over to the grocery store to pick up a few things. I was trying to choose a mini bottle of red wine that I could enjoy in the Jacuzzi overlooking the full moon-lit beach when my phone rang. To my delight, it displayed the name of another Oregon friend! He says that he will be passing Cannon Beach shortly on his way home so he will stop by to see me.

I wandered back down to the beach and see that my third-wheel-date from earlier had left their fire, abandoned, and still full of fuel.

Israel meets me there, under the full moon, next to the bonfire. He sits down and we talk for hours until the fire burns low with our feet buried in the warmed sand.

Israel is a talented singer, songwriter, artist, and frontman for Blind Pilot. He is a good-natured person who speaks with so much thought and intention, conversations with him are nothing short of enlightening. The time passes easily while engaging with him as he shares his ideas, perspectives, and stories.

After hours by the fire and having conversations about everything, he says that he needs to go but we can meet for breakfast before I head out in the morning.

Take a minute to watch this video as Israel performs one of my favorite songs with his band. He is so very talented.


Blind Pilot :: '3 Rounds and a Sound' via @liveset from Blind Pilot on Vimeo.

The next day, we meet for breakfast at some adorable, little-town cafe.

During breakfast, he asked me if I trust people with blue eyes more than I trust people with brown eyes. I never really thought of this before, but now that he mentions it, when I meet someone with the same blue eyes as me (of the bright variety), I want to maintain intense eye contact with them and kind of say, telepathically, "Hey, I've got 'em too!"

In the past I've noticed while working and living on boats, that the majority of these people, which I like to affectionately refer as "Boat People", have the same bright blue eyes. I asked a coworker in 2007 if he noticed how we all had the same eyes on the boats. He said something like, "It's because we have the ocean in us." I like that idea.

Anyway, I feel the same way when I encounter someone who is left-handed. And if they are blue-eyed AND left-handed, forget it! We can read each other's minds!

He also told me that in Iceland, highways are diverted for elves! It's true!

After breakfast, we said farewell and I left the Oregon Coast without using a GPS, because I am really brave.

I Heard Good Music Comes Out of Seattle - Has Nothing to Do With This Post

View of the Seattle Skyline from Kerry Park

The bus ride to Seattle only took about three hours and Rob met me at the station. I had never been to Seattle before, but people told me that I would like it, and I was feeling pretty excited. Because part of the motivation of this adventure was to find a new home, I wanted to see what Seattle was all about and if she would take me in.

When the bus arrived, it was raining. We went back to Rob's house to wait for his wife, Margaret, to get home from work. The best thing about Rob's house is that he has sparkling water on tap! All the sparkling water you can drink! And I love sparkling water.

Rob says Seattleites don't carry umbrellas.
I like umbrellas.

When Margaret got home, we went to a cool, dimly lit punk bar for burritos. Before we left the burrito-bar, I used the bathroom only to notice that the large window of the one-toilet-room was wide open and people were in the next building. Hello! You just saw my butt! (This was how many months ago? And this is what I remember: an open window and my bare bum.)

On April 29th, I woke up in Seattle. (Another thing that triggered this trip was that I was trying to spend at least one night in every state. I could now check Washington off my list and I would only have 12 more to go!) I decided the time had come to book some flights, since I was thinking about it. And talking about it. (I have to talk about things a lot before I can actually commit, because if I say it, I am going to do it, even if I don't want to.) This was the moment. I booked a flight to the island of Kauai where I would visit my longtime friend, Eric, and then beyond to New Zealand, where I didn't know a soul and had no idea of what I would do there, other than just get there, maybe just to say I did. Not sure.

I booked the first flight out of San Jose, California for May 8 - just over a week away. I'm in Seattle, remember? I find the journey to be the best part! How am I going to get from Point A to Point B? I don't know but it is seriously the best!

Now I had to be places by certain times. I thought I would spend a few weeks, slowly exploring the Pacific Northwest. Well, no more! 

After getting all settled with the flights, I ventured out and met up with Vincent, my train friend, at Pike Place Market - a must do Seattle thing. Also, it's "Pike", not "Pike's"!  

Pike Place Martket

The Gum Wall. Beautiful and Disgusting.

Everyone said, "Get a picture with the pig!"

The next day, Vincent picked me up for an adventure to Snoqualmie Falls. On the drive there, he played a song by Ben Howard called "Promise." I never heard it before, but everything about it felt right. It was perfectly placed at this point in my journey. Here I was with someone I didn't know a week before as we drove through the mountains in beautiful Washington. I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be. 

I think you should take a few minutes to listen to this song he played on our drive and time travel with me. Just close your eyes and FEEL it!

As I hear this song, I am right back there. I hope you are too. I hope you can imagine being there on the adventure with us. He was exploring his new home, and I was along for the ride, exploring this beautiful world.

We arrived at the falls and wandered around. We talked about how we move a lot. He told me I should probably move to Seattle. I said it isn't out of the question. Who knows?

Vincent ponders.

We trekked to the river below the falls and waited for kayakers that never came.

My big hair at Snoqualmie Falls via Vincent's Instagram.

We drove back towards Seattle and picked his sister up from work. They brought me to Kerry Park which overlooked the skyline of the city. After this, we said our goodbyes and can only hope that our paths will cross again in the future in the real life. 

A few days earlier, when I was in Portland, I came up with this great idea. I decided to download Tinder. If you don't know, it is considered a "hookup app" that shows you people within a certain radius. So, I get this idea that I can make a profile and explain that I'm just traveling through and looking for a local to show me around but I don't want to date.

I know this could be a terrible idea. But it could also be an amazing idea! What do I have to lose? I do these things. And aren't you glad I'm bringing you along on my somewhat impulsive and risky escapades? And "orange you glad I didn't say banana?"

So anyway, I end up meeting up with this guy from The Tinder at a cocktail bar that he picks - not a date. His name is Derek and he is from Boston. When I told him about my story, his eyes lit up and he said "You exploded! I exploded too!" I liked the way he thought of it like that. He had a longtime girlfriend and a house and a job back in Boston but decided he could not do it anymore so he just went clear across the country to Seattle, bought a sailboat even though he had never been on a boat before, and made it his new life. He spent days working on his boat. And I can't remember if he had a job or not, but if he did, I think it was volunteer work or for some humanitarian nonprofit. 

Derek from Tinder parking his bicycle as a stranger (me), a dog,
and a suitcase watch creepily.

I texted him the other day and he said he is still living out there on his boat and loving it. That is nice, isn't it? I like keeping in touch with people.

The next morning when I was getting ready to leave on the bus back to Portland, Rob pointed out that there were no 10am buses. I told him, "Of course there are. I have my ticket already." Well, turns out, I bought a ticket for the day before and all of the buses were sold out for this day.

Traveler fail!

Unfortunately, I had to get back to Portland that day because I had to get a car, to get to the coast, to get to Eugene. By Sunday! Because after Sunday my Eugene friend could not host me and I wanted to see her and her newborn baby! Now I need to figure this out.

I remembered another friend telling me awhile back that she uses Craigslist Rideshare to find people to help her with gas when she is driving across the country in her bus-home. I figured I'd give it a go! People must be going between Seattle and Portland often, right? And not everyone is a crazy person! Worst case scenario? I know. I know.

After a few hours of contacting people and making my own desperate post on Craigslist (NEED TO LEAVE ASAP), a woman finally gets in touch with me that she is heading to Portland soon and I can have a ride.

Now that I have a way to back to Portland, I just have to wait to get picked up and hope that I'm not going to get murdered. This will be the first of many.

As we wrap up the adventure in Seattle and I am still thinking of a new place to call home, here are my thoughts: I liked it there very much, but I also like biking a lot and the hills are intense. I should stop being a baby about hills and grow some calf muscles. In conclusion, I'm still thinking about all of these things!

Conquering Seattle.

First Stop: Portland, Oregon

Go by Train. Union Station, Portland, Oregon

When Nicole arrived to collect me, she asked where all of my stuff was. I am the lightest traveler I know. Here is where I will offer you my tips on traveling light: wear the same thing every day, but make sure to shower as much as possible and keep your socks and underwear clean. It's easy. If I was not thinking about going to New Zealand's winter, my bag would have been smaller still, and every time I travel, it is smaller than the last time. Save room for the camera.

My small bag. Three months.

From the station, Nicole and I went to the Farmer's Market where we looked at art and tasted samples of beer and popcorn. While checking out some cool photographs at one of the booths, a vendor approached me to small talk - I love small talk! I can't remember what led up to him saying this, but here is what I remember: "People think they don't deserve art. We have to trick them into buying it." I love that.

Saturday Farmer's Market in Portland.

After wandering around the market, Nicole brought me to Huber's, which is Portland's oldest restaurant. It's really cozy inside and feels haunted. Perfect. Natural light comes into the restaurant through stained-glass windows on the ceiling.

The thing about Portland is that I've been drawn to it since about 2009, about a year after moving to Colorado from New Jersey, and I keep going back. I just FEEL like I am supposed to live there. The first time I visited was in 2011 when I bought a plane ticket after receiving one of those cheap-flight-alert emails. So I buy this ticket to Portland without knowing anyone there, without a plan, but trusting myself that it'll be okay and looking forward to an adventure. A few days before I was leaving, I found out that my boyfriend(-at-the-time)'s sister lived there. She said I could stay on her couch but she had to work the entire time and wouldn't be able to show me around. She didn't know me yet. I was prepared to fully explore the entire city solo - and that I did.

I can't tell you what it is exactly about Portland for me, because I don't really know. I like the music and art that comes out of there. I like coffee shops, rain, book stores, and breweries. I like mountains and green landscapes. I like bicycles and organic food. And then every time I'm there, I'm kind of let down. I think my expectations are too high, but I'm not giving up, and I'm still pretty sure I'm going to move there. Because I believe!

So back at Huber's, Nicole and I ordered Spanish Coffees, based on her recommendation. Besides being delicious and deceptively potent, the best part of the drink was that the bartender makes them at the table with fancy pours, and fire! And then I was kind of drunk in the middle of the day. Lightweight. 

Huber's Spanish Coffee: Who doesn't love a cocktail made with fire?

My lovely friend, Nicole, enjoying her Spanish Coffee at Huber's.

Later on that evening, another Portland transplant friend of mine, Kati, called to tell me she had tickets to the Oregon Symphony Orchestra, if I would like to go. Yes! (Here is a downside of traveling light: I definitely did not have the proper attire for the symphony. Luckily, Nicole has a great wardrobe so she let me borrow a dress and fancy boots.)

Kati picked me up for our date night and we headed to The Arnold Schnitzer Concert Hall. We were dressed up and ordered whisky, like classy ladies.

Arnold Schnitzer Concert Hall

Oregon Symphony Orchestra

Kati telling me a good story during intermission while sipping on whisky (She's holding mine, not drinking two!)

Kati is high on the list of my favorite people. She exudes kindness, thoughtfulness, intelligence, and patience. She sees beauty in the details and reminds me to see it too. She is beautiful on the inside and out. She is an inspiration.

We met back in 2008 while working at a flower shop together when I first moved to Boulder, Colorado. She's a Colorado native who speaks fluent Spanish from the years she spent in Argentina. In 2009, she got a job as an au pair in Switzerland and invited me to visit. I flew there alone and had to figure out how to get to the tiny town where she was staying without knowing anything but English. I made it. I always do. And we had so much fun. I'd like to tell you about it, but maybe it's not the time, since we're in Portland. Then again, maybe it is the time, since this is the story of my traveling. I'll save it for later, but I will tell you, Switzerland has chocolate yogurt that I still dream about.

The rest of my trip in Portland was uneventful. I spent the next couple of days wandering around looking for a sign telling me I should just stay. That never happens.

Before leaving, I met up with a friend from high school who relocated there. I didn't get her picture, but I took this while I was waiting for her to meet me! This is a downside of traveling solo: a lot of aloneness.

Where are all of the people?

After three days in Portland and no real signs that I am supposed to live there yet (even though I still feel this pull I just keep missing what I'm looking for! I know it!), I decided it was time to head to Seattle where I would be staying with my friend Rob (who I met in Boulder) and his wife. I figured I would come back to Portland in a couple of days to try again.

Onward and forward. Seattle bound.

Portland: Because if I'm not in the picture, maybe I wasn't really there!

From a Boat to a Transcontinental Train.

I was moving onto a houseboat in Philadelphia during an ice storm on March 1, 2015 when 60 Minutes aired. I knew a little about what was going on based on rumors around the office and then a meeting that was held a few days before - so that we would not be taken by surprise. A couple weeks prior, while I was at Mardi Gras in New Orleans, I received an email that the State Attorney General was raiding the office. 

Luckily for me, I had just left my Brooklyn apartment to move to Philadelphia where I would work remotely. I found a houseboat on Craigslist for the month of March where I could live while looking for a permanent apartment.

After the 60 Minutes feature, clients dropped us left and right throughout the month and the security of my job was looking less than promising. 

On March 27, I received the phone call letting me know that they would have to let me go, effective immediately. There was no more work.

Sunrise from the marina of my houseboat in Philadelphia

Some people panic. Others make plans. I knew it was time for an adventure. I was free. No apartment obligations. No significant other. No kids. No debt. And I was only about an hour and a half from my parents' house, the closest I had been since college, so I could leave my stuff and animals (Thanks Mom and Dad!).

This is when I wonder how these things come to happen. Where do the ideas spark from? It's like they just float up from the gray matter in our brains and appear. And then they become thoughts. Which become actions. There is a rush of ideas all floating up, spiraling around. My heart races as the possibilities swirl! At some point, some of them come together, like pieces of a puzzle. Options are chosen and put into motion.

On April 22, 2015 I found myself in the backseat of my parents' car as the sun began to rise. We were on our way to Philadelphia. I had purchased a one-way train ticket that would arrive in Portland, Oregon three days later - wherever I even got that idea, beats me. I knew I was going to the West Coast and I had some ideas of what I wanted to happen, but no real itinerary.

In the backseat of the car on the way to the train station in Philadelphia.

I have wanted to travel the United States by train for a few years. Taking my time and watching comfortably as the landscapes change. I never had the time - most Americans don't. And now I did. This was my chance. Not only does it take much longer, but it also costs more than a plane ticket, which besides the time, is probably another reason that so few people take trains "these days". 

I needed to meet the people who take their time. What do they think about? What brings them here? Why did they choose to go slow? Where do they come from? Where are they going? Maybe they know something that I don't and they will share their knowledge? Maybe someone will say something that I need to hear and everything in the universe will suddenly make sense. 

I am on a quest to find out. I search for it in conversations; in books and music. It may not be one word or phrase, but maybe if I find enough of them, it will happen; life will make sense.

I spent the entire first leg of the trip, Philadelphia to Chicago, not talking to anyone. I stared out the window and discovered how beautiful West Virginia is. I saw a man standing on the balcony of his old, colonial house waving at the train as we passed him. I thought about how he must wait for the train every day and he goes to his balcony, with a big smile, and waves to us. It made me happy. I wanted to be his friend. I wanted to wait on his balcony to wave at the passing trains too. 

Another thing that happened on the first part of the train: crying. I cried for a few hours after leaving Philadelphia, which is a big deal for me, but I let it go, discretely behind my sunglasses. 

While I won't go into why I cried, I do want to mention the thoughts that happened: "I have nothing", "I'm tired of being afraid," and "I'm going to go to New Zealand and jump out of an airplane, because I have nothing to lose and it sounds terrifying." 

You see? Where does this stuff come from? But it matters and we'll get there, eventually.

After arriving in Chicago a day later, I had to switch trains where I would be for the remainder of my trip. This is also where I upgraded from coach to a "roomette" - well worth it! The upgrade includes all meals, showers, a bed, and privacy. It was lovely. I felt really fancy. And extremely comfortable.

A day after departing Philadelphia, I had a chance to explore Chicago for a few hours.

Hanging out with my new friend, Vincent, on the train.

On the next train, I recognized a fellow passenger from the first train. I approached him and we quickly became train-friends. His name is Vincent. He was born in the Philippines and previously lived in Hawaii, San Francisco, and most recently, New York City (we lived in NYC at the same time!). He is a photographer and big into the Instagram - @alohacrabs if you are interested in checking out his work!

Photo Credit: Instragram @alohacrabs

Lucky for me he knew his way around a camera and I did not, even though I am equipped with my Canon EOS 60D. We spent a lot of the ride talking about traveling, life, social media, and him teaching me how to use the camera. 

He had decided to leave New York City and was moving to the Seattle area, where he'd be getting an apartment with his sister. He had all of his belongings with him. If I recall, it consisted of two, maybe three, suitcases and his bag of camera supplies. Not too bad, my friend. 

On the last night of the journey, the train splits in half. One half continues onto Portland and the other onto Seattle. We said our good-byes and agreed that we would meet up again when I got to Seattle. (You can read more about Vincent's journey on his blog.)

On Saturday, I finally arrived in Portland. The city greeted with me a bright sun and beautiful blue skies. (Of course it did - I was hoping for rain.)

Union Station in Portland, Oregon on the day of my arrival.

Even though my arrival in Portland would seem to mark the beginning of my trip, there was something about it that left me feeling heavy. It was time to get my feet on the ground and start doing, rather than passively watching. 

It was time to begin that adventure I had been talking about, but I wasn't really sure about what would happen.  My friend was on her way to pick me up from the station. Here I was. Just waiting. And worrying a little - what if nothing happened?

What if I didn't feel any different? What if I didn't find myself after all of this? 

This is typical of me. 

This is also something I hope that traveling will change.

I caught my reflection in the window of the speeding train.

To be continued...