part 1 of....more then 1

What follows are my adventures thus far...They only run up to last Saturday, I've still got to write about the shit that's gone on since and following today...but at a latter date.

----------

I'm writing this while I'm still in Oregon, I've got lots of memories and I want to write them down while they are still fresh. I'll try not to bore you with the details, but my trip to the Pacific Northwest has been an eventful one, certainly one I'll not forget for many, many years to come.

First of all, even getting out here was an endeavour. The (free) airline tickets my Dad and I got from my cousin at drawn on Southwest Airlines, which just so happens to not fly out of Atlanta. The closest airport they do call to is Birmingham, some 2 hours away. A small road trip is in order just to get on the plane. A little bit before the Alabama state line we run into some heavy, heavy traffic. Turns out there is road construction going on and the two-lane is down to just a single lane....great, now all that extra time we allotted ourselves is gone. Luckily no baggage is being checked, so delays at the ticket counter are nil. Regardless, a lot of time was wasted sitting nearly stopped on the freeway.

Really, it didn't matter. We got to the gate with an hour to spare. Well, around about 20 mins until we are set to depart, an announcement comes over the loud speaker...Chicago is shut down. Just so happens our connecting flight is in Chicago. Great. So we wait around 1 and a half hours before the plane finally boards. Dandy. We push off from the gate and are all ready to go, right? Not quite. Now we sit on the sub-taxi way for our turn to take off. Sheesh. Trip has just started and I'm already sick of sitting.

Finally we take off and are in the air. However, the storms that shut down Chicago are in our way...so we have to detour around them. Not a huge detour, but one nonetheless. Flight was uneventful. Got to see Lake Michigan and lots of seemingly identical houses on final approach to Midway.

Knowing time is not on our side, my father and I quickly depart the plane and hustle to the nearest ticket counter to ask where our connecting flight is..."on terminal A" was our answer. We're at the end of terminal B, and the plane departs from the end of terminal A. At a near run, we rush to the gate....only to find out the plane isn't scheduled to depart until 10:45. It was currently 6:25. So now I'm hungry, tired, and short of breath for no reason. Excellent.

If you've only got 4 hours to live, may I suggest living them out sitting in front of gate A19 at Midway. Longest four hours you'll ever spend.

Finally, our plane lands. But, it just so happens that there are two planes scheduled for gate A19, because of the shut down earlier in the day, flights are stacked up. An all-call comes over the speakers letting everyone know that the flight intended to board at gate A19 will now board at gate A18. No biggie, that’s right beside the original gate. However, the announcement wasn't crystal as to which flight; to one to Kansas City or Portland? No one knows. Half of the some 250ish people rush to gate A18. After 5 minuets of everyone asking everyone else, finally a second announcement squawks to let us know the Kansas City flight is at gate A18. A chorus of moans is the reply followed quickly by a second rush of people swapping gates once more.

Thankfully the flight into Portland was smooth and free of anymore hiccups.

I'll skip quickly through the next day, which involved getting up at 6am, after only arriving in the city and to a bed at 3:45 am, for a very long road trip. Although there were some great sites along the way, including a full-size replica (and complete) Stonehenge; some amazing views of several dams are full bore releasing all the snowmelt from the bulging rivers; awesome views of mighty big hills, dales, and gorges; and other such niceties.

Our final destination was Winthrop, Washington, some XXXX miles from our origin. The ride took about 14 hours, with plenty of stops...although the time was made to seem even longer with 4 kids along for the trip, one being 3 and the other being 2. I'll tell ya though, the views offered by our retreat in the mountains made the voyage worthwhile, and more so.

Where we were staying was a converted house. There was 6 bedrooms all totaled, 4 full baths, each bedroom had a dedicated sink and two (at least) had their own refrigerators, a small kitchenette and a small living room/den. We had a total of 18 people staying in this place. Was it crowded? Indeed. Was it fun? You better believe it. It was actually the first time my Dad and his three other siblings were in the same place at the same time in some 10 years. Unfortunately it was the death of their aunt that brought the far-flung siblings together again, but life has a way of handing you lemons at times.

The town were our small army was spending has a population of less then 600 full time residents. Although the place is a hoppin' tourist destination in the summer with lots of RVs and campers everywhere the eye looks. But, you get off the beaten path a bit and things quieten down right quick. Since my father and his brother and sisters spent the summer here, they knew all the spots to see.

One such spot was a Smokejumper base. If you're an urbanite or just unschooled as to what a smokejumper is, I'll enlighten you. In many parts of the west there are very steep, rocky, wooded areas that have almost no access to them, save Ranger roads and logging roads; it just so happens that these places are ignited by lightning quite often throughout to year, epically the summer. Smokejumpers are highly-trained, and some would argue brave or stupid, individuals that don parachutes, mesh-faced helmets and fire gear and proceed to fly in an airplane to a fresh forest fire. Once above a nearby clearing, they proceed to exit the flying plane, open the 'chute, and glide into the middle of dense woods to dig fire lines to contain the blaze. There is no hope of extinguishing the blaze, the forest needs them, but containing them to a workable area is ideal. This whole mess of craziness started in the small town of Winthrop way back in 1939. Kinda cool. I got to see the base, the plane, and some of the gear. None of the brave jumpers were around though. Although a private Leer-type jet was, and when it took off, I was standing perhaps 50 feet from it. Awesome.

One of the old-timers of the town was my great Uncle, who had a cabin way the hell up this road called 8 mile. A winding, climbing, unpaved road carving its way up the side of a mountain. My Dad, Uncle, Aunt and I traveled along this road to see the sites. We saw lots of snow, lots of beautiful mountains, roaring creeks, and even a grizzly bear. I shit you not, a real life grizzly bear. In the wild. We came around a bend when my Aunt spotted it, the car came to an abrupt halt and at once we bailed with cameras at the ready. It was a once in a lifetime experience. We were maybe 100 yards away straight across, although two steep inclines and a creek separated us, and the wind was blowing away from the bear...so he couldn't smell us. My uncle hooted at the thing trying to get it to turn, which it did, and stand up, which it didn't. Not having good eyes and not knowing the sound, the bear sprung for some nearby brush. My father and I were lucky enough to get a few snaps, although they do not do the bear justice to its size. We were so close you could see the muscles work beneath the fur as it bound away. Amazing. My uncle, who worked many, many years in deep woods as a logger and who has seen many bears of all types in his days, is pretty sure it was a grizzly, not a brown or black bear. After seeing this thing up close, or as close as I would like in the wild, I would have to agree. Simply amazing.

The rest of the time in Winthrop passed uneventful in comparison, but I did get to see family I never have before, and may never see again, and some of the best country I could ever hope to lay eyes upon. Coming 'home' was a bit of a sad day, as it required saying goodbye to family and going our separate ways; it also meant another 14 hours in a van with small children. Yikes.

The path we chose to come home on was a more northern route then the path to go up, mainly because the pass through the mountains wasn't clear on the day we were going up. So, as you can imagine, the road home was way up high, full of snow, although off the road, sites, mountains, and lots of wishing I could stay. The elevation at the summit of the pass was 4500 feet. Way the hell on up there. This is a pass mind you, the 'easy' and 'low' route over the mountains. Right. On the way back down though Mt. Rainer looked like it was going to fall through the windshield, providing some excellent photo ops.

Along the way we followed and crossed the Columbia River in a few spots. The glacier-carved cliffs on either side were gorgeous and again provided an opportunity to test my shutter bug skills. Land so beautiful that you could spent an eternity gazing at it, and never tire. Thoughts of relocating to a home with overlooking views are rampant.

Eventually, we found ourselves on the highway that leads us home to the town of St. Helens, Oregon. Along the way you pass a phased out nuclear (nucular for W. Bush...) power plant, Trojan. Just within the past 2 weeks, the 499-foot cooling tower was imploded. A long standing landmark. From both sides of the Columbia it stood out amongst all other shore side structures. Not seeing it there was surreal, even a bit spooky. Whilst it was still standing, it made the containment building, a huge structure in of itself, look dinky. Now this huge dome sticks out like a sore thumb. A fast paced world will leave the slow in the dust. Crazy.

What really is crazy is the trip so far. I've been privy to some of the best memories I'll ever have, some of the best landscapes known to man, and I've got to experience them all with my family. Can it get any better? Within just a few hours I went from around 2500 feet above sea level to sea level, to 4500 foot up, down, back up, and finally back down to sea level again, where I'm at now. It amazing my head hasn't exploded from the constant pressure differences.

Luckily the past few days have been a little less hectic and more about what vacations are meant to be, a relaxing venture in a place far from home. Even though this place feels like home, with all the family living within a few doors of each other (all three cousins from the same aunt and uncle live within 1/8 mile of each other, with Grandma in the middle), and the town being so small and unchanged, and with the most recent visit not too long ago, it's still a vacation and I'm enjoying the hell out of it.

All that has really taken place the past few days is some ventures into town, and the surrounding ones, to pick up a few trinkets and see some new sites. Got a real good view of Mt. Saint Helens spewing a little bit of ash, a nice angle of Mt. Hood, but nothing compared to the peaks of Northern Washington.