Been A While

Hello my friends. For those of you still reading, thank you for hanging in there.  For new friends, thank you for welcoming me into your lives.  I’m lovin’ my life in Maupin, and still learning how to be an Oregonian; new survival gear is involved: snow boots, rafting gear, ice cleats. Skills to out-smart and out-run a two-year-old are also on the list, though not Oregon-specific.

After Peace Corps, Mexico, and Cannon Beach I sort of fell off the radar when so much new life  (literally) announced itself. Life went into high gear, and the blog fell off the short-list; excuses/reasons will be apparent in future blogs.   

My book about the whole adventure of Peace Corps and more is in the works;  and that took me back to  my blog to see where I left off.  I was a little shocked to realize I’d failed to post the last entry I wrote four years ago. So, while it’s old news to some, I’m putting it out there… just because.

As a recycled-Texan, the expression, “I’m back in the saddle again,” comes to mind; though the last time I was in a saddle was at a Dude Ranch in 1996 and that didn’t end well.  As a new Oregonian, maybe I’m back in the raft? Back on the trail?  Yet all of those feel a little unfamiliar.  Let’s just say I’m writing again and it feels good. That actually is familiar ground and makes me happy.

At the end of September, my landlords decided to sell the cute little Cannon Beach Cottage and it became time to shift gears again.  Long term rentals in Cannon Beach are non existent, since property owners can earn more on a weekend from the tourists than they can in a month of lease.  The upside was that Travis was able to come for a visit before full chaos erupted and it was like Christmas having both of my wonderful sons here at one time.  It was so much fun sharing this beautiful place with Travis and then being ale to spend time with both of them in Brett’s end of the world – Mt. Hood.

Magically, one – and only one – place became available 16 miles up the road, via an acquaintance  I’d made in one of those synchronistic meetings a year ago.  It’s a tiny place, overlooking a lake buzzing with activity:  otter, deer, elk and birds. So far,  I’ve identified 86 different species of birds – but who’s counting.  In short – another gift from the universe. Here’s a peek.  SO much more open feeling and lots of light.   The people weren’t even going to rent it, but a friend of a friend sent them the Peace Corps article that appeared in the newspaper a while back and apparently I didn’t look to scary.

After getting my stuff in, I took a break from the tourist craziness of the summer and decided to be one – a tourist, that is – and set off to explore the Olympic National Forest and its Rain forests. Who knew!?  The trip was beyond my expectations and just in time to see the Fall Color.  Had my friend and I started a week later we’d have missed it!

There are four temperate Rain forests just three hours north of here and we explored two of them: The Hoh and the Quinault. Feeling like we were lost in the set of Avatar,  every vista was more mystical than the next.  Take a look –

Tucked in among the dripping leaves, bearded trees and waterfalls we chanced upon Lake Quinault Lodge that looks like the set from Dirty Dancing.  Driving on, the scenery switched back to the eerie beauty of the Twilight movies filmed around here.   And in another heartbeat there was scenery that looked straight out  of Colorado. 

Returning via an Indian Reservation and some iconic fishing villages and harbors, we wound our way back into Oregon, stayed long enough to do laundry and regroup before heading south to explore Mt. Shasta, then back north via the southern Oregon coast.

Hoping for a little weirdness on Mt Shasta – known for it’s mystical happenings and  inexplicable  encounters, we found only great vistas – until we tried to get back to the shore.  Somehow – (used in the true Ugandan sense…) we were routed to a Forestry Road through the Forest Prime-evil devoid of any sign of  humanity except for  dilapidated, long abandoned barns and small signs announcing GOLD CLAIMS!!!  It was a trip back in time and we were lost, running out of gas and approaching dusk. It stirred up some old spookiness about back roads and bayous in Louisiana, and fearing I might have to walk out or spend the night in the car, I threw up my hands and asked the Universe for help I’m happy to say a big black SUV appeared around the next curve. Although very welcome, it too had an element of weird:  not a speck of dust on this dusty road and no identifiers what-so-ever re: Make and Model.

We were looking for weird, not scary, but this slice of  adventure sufficed.  Heading back home,  the north coast welcomed us with characteristic rain, and so another fall begins.    I’ve settled into a new place, with great new neighbors – both animal and human – and  ESL (English as a Second Language) classes have begun.   Trying to  find a new cadence to life, since this community is so removed and different from Cannon Beach.

Looks like we’re in for quite a ride these next few years and in trying to find some solace, what I’ve come to is a quote from  Margaret Meade: