Flashback: one month back

Yes, people in the United States really do have a strange notion of what constitutes appropriate work wear. Come late October, that strangeness of dress code is amplified some several decibels by the Hallmark hysteria of the moment. Weird, I tell you. Weird.
Recently, amongst others, People of Walmart met Medusa, with a side order of demure Minnie Mouse and Frida for dessert. You gotta love 'em, they are some of the finest.Authorial Note and Disclaimer: No animals were injured in creating these images and all permissions were gained.

Singing freedom songs on the banks of foreign rivers: hope

The sun came out again for a brief few hours Friday last. Having become lately local, I dropped all plans of the moment, obedient to the urge to play outside.

The Fav Tribal Elder and myself made an unplanned pilgrimage, a local Stations of the Cross. To the dock, to the House of Awakened Culture, to Chief Seattle's grave and then finally to Doe Kag Wats, the local wetland where fresh water, made amber gold from roots, meets and mingles with salt water of the Salish Sea (aka Puget Sound).

So often, during my time in this foreign land, this little spot has been a place of succour for me. It is a cathedral of sorts, a temple, a place of sanctity and original naming, and certainly most sacred to the Suquamish Tribe whose ancestral lands encompass this and far more.
The calm beauty of the geography of the place was restorative that morning. In the thin winter sunshine (yes we had bundled up against the sharp edge of wind off snow capped mountains to east and west) we could lay our heads on logs and squint at the breakers, imagining, for now, the swoop and tilt, the sheer lyrical lilt of vessel riding the edge of waters such as these.
It was one of those split second perfect moments life affords those living without expectations. Just the presence of sun in winter in this far northern land warms to depth, reaching layers one hadn't even realised were become etiolated from lack of luminosity.

We didn't even need to carve our shared initial on the logs. Someone else with chain saw had preceeded.My personal mythology is woven through with experiences at Doe Kag Wats. This was the first beach I walked on this continent, on my first day in the United States. The welcome party Doe Kag Wats laid on that day, eight years and some few weeks ago: a man with a rifle and skin the colour of the amber golden water which runs into the ocean here. As I approach, the man lowers his rifle : "You are okay. You are not a bear." He gestures for me to pass. Not-A-Bear I have been ever since. A naming on ancestral lands is indisputable, I have later come to find out.

In spite of the cold Friday, I dabbled my fingers in the salt water, thinking about how, in that moment, I joined hands around the world, touching salt water which laps in turn at every shore, every continent. By salt water are all ancestral lands joined, blended, merged and dissolved: that dead weight of our ancestry we carry with us in every moment, relieved by dissolution in salt water.

What then is immigration but a dissolving of one's ancestral weight in salt water?

And yes, I restrained myself, but only just, from dabbling that same cold salt water on any exposed amber golden skin I could find on the Fav Tribal Elder....

Elemental, my dear Watson. The simplicity of elemental things. Sunshine. Salt water. A beach. Hope.
And restraint. Always restraint.

Sunrise over the Salish Sea: the physics of light retention

On mornings like this I remember why I love this particular bivouac. There might be a lot of gray rainy clouds-down-to-the-ground days, but when the sun does come out it makes up for all the absenteeism with a brilliance so dazzling that one has to drop whatever it is that one is doing at the time to stand and stare.
Those who hold the light, absorb the light to hand on the light.

The scenic route

One of the Breitenbush community members joined me at breakfast on my last morning at the hot springs. Of course the topic of my long, reluctant drive home came up. From Gerry I learned that the scenic route of Hwy 224 through Estacada back to Washington state via Hwy 205 was still passable for a few more days. A winter storm was gathering but not here yet.

In winter, Hwy 224, which goes through the mountains and Willamette and Mt Hood National forests, is not ploughed. This means it is pretty off limits for a two wheel drive snow driving coward such as myself.

Taking this route I would connect with Hwy 205 to make the Columbia river crossing, and thus miss the spagetti of freeways and traffic congestion funneling through downtown Portland to cross the state boundary river at the Interstate 5 bridge. Added bonus: the autumn colours of the forest drive would be at their peak.
Thank you Gerry! I was not disappointed. The early part of the drive, I saw very few vehicles. I could take it slowly, savouring the dramatic scenery as it rolled by the windows. I had scraped ice off the truck windscreen when leaving Breitenbush at 10 in the morning. The skies remained low and heavy, with light rain much of the way, though thankfully that winter storm held off. Conditions were not really favourable for outdoor photography, so not many pics to share. (there are a few on flickr) The contrast of grey skies and autumn colours is really beautiful to experience however, even through the rain blur of swishy windscreen wipers.

These forests are a little drier than the ones I live in, further north in western Washington, slightly different in nature. Much of this section of Hwy 224 winds along between the Clacakamas river and looming craggy cliffs. The deciduous trees flamed brilliance amongst the evergreens, making golden avenues in parts.

The only other humans I saw on the stretch through the forests were burly camo outfitted men with chainsaws and really big trucks fitted with impressive rifle racks, collecting firewood from downed trees at the side of the road. Burly backwoods guys with guns and chain saws. Hmmmm....glad that, thanks to the Fav Tribal Elder and Suquamish Auto Services, the Amber Liquid Sunshine lill' Ford Ranger is in good mechanical order. I wouldn't like to have been stranded alone in the wilderness with these dudes. Something tells me my style, and my lifestyle choices, are somewhat different from theirs.
I stopped in small town Estacada for a break, to photograph the Clackamas river and to get my internet fix. Breitenbush is completely off the grid: no cell phones, no internet, all power is hydroelectrically generated from the river. It had been really good to disengage completely from the electronic world for three days. Equally it was good to settle into Scenes and Beans coffee shop and video rental establishment in Estacada to catch up with my world wide connections.

I am truly most at home on the road, whether it is roaming in a 500 mile radius of the little cabin on the rez, or taking big jet airliners across oceans and continents. Travel is where I live.

I don't do enough road trips in this country (darn! having to earn a living just takes up so much time!) but when I do, I absolutely adore the marvel of pulling into a one horse town, finding the local caffeine refueling station, taking out the laptop and getting connected. Makes travelling with all that baggage: all those cords, connectors and battery rechargers worth it after all.

And yes, as you can see from this pic of the interior of the Amber Liquid etc...I am still low tech in some areas. Do not, in spite of your urgings, Lionheart of my Heart, have a GPS yet. Still relying on the paper road atlas. And, it seems, my travelling companion this trip was a passenger seat load of baggage. Time to lighten up?