Now it's Sunday morning, and I'm not too hungover. I start the day with some coffee, and begin breaking down the tent with the company of my next door neighbors who are going the same direction as I am. We talk and agree to follow each other. Well, to be precise, I'm following him. He's faster.
Before I break down the tent-of-awesome, I decide to see how big that thing really is.
Answer. Very. (It's 15 x 30 for those who are asking)
Goodbyes, hugs, see you next times, and I'm following Marius through the wide open.
The Stroms decide that the Columbia river gorge is better viewed from above, so they find the older road and take me through this:
and we continue through to Troutdale past waterfalls:
and antique stores that have kerosene lanterns:
I get to my destination on Sunday evening. Monday and Tuesday I meet with clients, and I work my way back down to the Oregon/California border on Tuesday evening.
It's a strange drive along Oregon 5. I get beautiful skies:
I leave Ashland on Wednesday morning, and have a clear view of Shasta:
Joe and I meet up one more time on the drive and grab a couple of cheap tacos from a roadside stand before heading home.
I have bugs to clean off, and camp equipment that needs cleaning. I think it's time to redo that last panel on the ceiling and rethink the way my pop top is secured - the winds of the gorge made it clear that my stock system isn't sufficient.
I repeat a joke about car drivers: BMW drivers tip their hats to each other, Mercedes drivers nod in silent agreement, VW owners wave their tools boxes at each other. It's a constant and consistent maintenance thing. But since I live in a world that disappears once the power goes out, it's nice to be connected to something that is real and raw. The Maupin run was a refreshing return to the world of the simple. Simple pleasures, honest company, and a place where the off-color joke and caustic remark are signs of comfort and trust. Thanks again for the refresh.
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