svelte elk.

And thus another set of wanderings has concluded and here I sit down to relate them for you and for posterity (or at least so I don't forget all the cool stuff I saw). It's been almost three fast weeks and so bear with me.

The cast of characters for the trip include: Me, Annie (my friend from college), Barbara (Annie's mother), Stan or Stasys (Annie's pa) and a lot of her extended family.

From Los Angeles, Annie and I drove up on boring I-5 to the Lake Shasta area. I-5 has got to be one of the most mindless drives on the planet - once you get past "the golden hills of California," it's straight through the valley and all you see are burned out fields that stretch for miles. In fact the most exciting part was passing a cow pen and getting a whiff of their oh, so noxious methane fragrance. (Not as bad smelling or as inhumane looking as the one passed going west out of Amarillo.) For lodging, we ended up camping on the banks of Lake Shasta - one hell of a beautiful experience. At night there were bats swooping overhead and stars, shooting stars, the Milky Way, a swirl of celestial light. In the morning, we were woken up by the sun and a hawk circling overhead. A pack of geese came to visit - and left for dislike of the Duke Ellington we were listening to as we packed up. (I have a running experiment with subjecting animals on the trip to music and seeing how they react - horses do not like a trumpet player named Ted Daniel.)

Past Castle Crags for an early breakfast in Dunsmuir at the Cornerstone Cafe - yummy. Then past Mt. Shasta, through the independent State of Jefferson and off into Oregon. Up to Portland where we stayed with, follow me now, the daughter of one of Barbara's best friends, named Alex. A night of drinking and exploring the Mississippi neighborhood in Portland ensued, though it was an early night so as to save energy for the next day...

which was Pickathon, a festival of indie roots music, just south of Portland. The reason for attending was that our very good friends Megafaun (who are mindblowingly awesome) were playing the festival. We met them a few years ago in NY, but since they're from NC, we only get to see them a few times a year and not for very long. So this was the long awaited bro-out hang session and it lived up to the hype. It should be noted as a preface to the music, that the festival itself was on somebody's farm and was, like Portland, trying to be incredibly green and eco-friendly, and for the most part succeeded. However, it should also be noted that green is not cheap.

So we got there early and caught a set from bluesman T-Model Ford. Poor T-Model, but what a trooper. So picture this, he apparently just turned 90 years old, recently had a stroke that left his strumming hand more of less destroyed and yet, "What time is it, T?" "Jack Daniels time." I don't know when he came on to the scene, but he definitely is one of the few survivors of any generation of bluesman that can still get that down-home gritty feel, even if he can barely play guitar anymore. Kudos to the band for giving him something stable to work with. The whole experience though left me a little cold for several reasons. One was that, okay, sure he probably loves to perform, but I also think it's almost assured that he's still touring because he needs to make money. Is it really fair that a 90 year old who had a stroke should have to keep working at such a pace to make a livelihood? My answer is no. Secondly, the festival was predominantly white and so I felt the whole thing to be like blues at the Newport Folk Festivals in the Sixties - a weird sort of living museum, where people want a glimpse, but don't really understand.

Next up were Megafaun performing at a stage in the middle of the woods - the perfect place for a stripped down acoustic set. The fourth wall was quickly dismantled and the concert ended with them in the center of the audience leading a sing-along. It's hard to convey just how amazing Megafaun are - all the more because on top of being outstanding and forward-thinking musicians, they are also totally righteous guys. If the immediate feedback didn't prove the set a highlight of the weekend, the many people who came up and thanked them for doing something special, for really touching their souls and spirits with music made it clear that Megafaun are a band to watch.

Most of the rest of the day was just spent lounging with Phil and Brad from Megafaun (Joe and his wife Carson were heading to Portland for the rest of the day). They turned us on to some far-out and beautiful music.

The highlight though would have been Frank Fairfield (who has a record coming out soon on Tompskins Square). Frank is almost a performance art piece, inhabiting the persona of a 1920s/1930s musician fully. From his clothes to his banter to his clean-living lifestyle, he has it down. But that's nothing compared to the actual music. Frank plays covers on banjo, guitar and fiddle, but whoa. There's really no way to describe it, and I doubt video or audio could do just being there justice. He had the entire audience out there in the forest dead silent for 50 minutes.

We also enjoyed music from Frazey Ford and Jill Andrews.

After a long night, Megafaun generously gave us one of their hotel rooms to crash in, so that we didn't have to drive all the way back to Portland. Much love.

Me, Annie, Phil

The next day was spent in Portland, mostly in the Pearl District, as I unluckily found myself with a flat tire that I had to get changed. Luckily, however, the Pearl District is home to two of Portland's finest breweries, Rouge and Deschutes. Much delicious malted beverage was imbibed until the pain of the tire had subsumed and by the time the car was ready we were sober enough to drive again. In some weird way it was an afternoon well spent.

The following day we tried to drive up to Mount St. Helens before driving down to Barbara's best friend's river house. The problem was that it was a very hazy day and the mountain was completely shrouded. Being resourceful and flexible recent graduates, we scoured the tour brochures and found Ape Cave, part of the park, but on the south side of the mountain. Ape Cave is the largest lava flow in North America and is about 2,000 years old. Mt. St. Helens using blows up like it did in 1980, but once it did erupt like the volcanos in Hawaii do and the result was Ape Cave. We spent a good deal exploring the lower half of the cave and its cave slime (the bats had all left because people are always in the cave), which was freezing and totally breathtaking even in our limited lantern light. One of the unexpected highlights of the trip for sure.

Ape Cave Entrance

Dam near Ape Cave

Then we headed back into Oregon and drove to the river house, about an hour east of Salem, Oregon (the state capital). Beautifully built and nestled right near a wonderful swimming hole, the river house was very relaxing after a few days of constant movement. We spent about 2 days and 2 nights. The only time I left was on an adventure to Salem with Stasys looking for deck chairs, where we also caught a glimpse of the lovely state capital building. My room was right on the river and I just loved sleeping with the window open so as to hear the water flowing steadily. That is one of my favorite sounds currently in existence.

After relaxing at the river house, we headed up to Seattle, but by way of a quick stop at Mt. St. Helens, which, though quite a drive, is certainly a splendid sight. We only spent a little while gazing at it, but its totally breathtaking. My favorite part though, was that in most of the areas still bare and devastated from the blast, the only life to return were exquisitely colored wildflowers of Washington. In particular, I fell in love with the Indian Paintbrush.

Seattle is a really cool town. I love the small fishing town vibe in the big city. My one qualm was that it was a little too much on the pricey side, especially after the incredible affordability of Portland. Upon arrival, we immediately went to their amazing public library to use the free internet to book a place to stay. Hell, that library really was something and if it functions 1/10th as well as it looks then it must be truly outstanding. We ended up staying at a funky little hostel in the International District (read Chinatown) and walked over to the Monorail via the waterside, which took us to the Space Needle. We got there just as the sun was setting in order to get amazing views of Seattle's 360 in the day and the night. The shades of red, orange and pink on the mountains and the Puget Sound was absolutely stunning and probably accounted for one of the most romantic encounters I've ever had with nature. For dinner, Annie and I checked out this bar and then walked back to the hostel, crashing early so as to be able to get an early start for big explorations in Vancouver.

Before heading to the Great White North, we stopped at the famed Pike Street Market in Seattle for an early breakfast and to check out the scene as the market begins to wake up. Crazy fish. Delicious fruit. Interesting folks. The drive up to Vancouver was scenic, though somewhat unimpressive. Mostly farmland, though the mountains were rather beautiful and on the whole, that part of the country is much prettier than say Kentucky, if only because it seems so lush. The colors in the Northwest are very significant and the hues are rich and varied. It's very phantasmagoric. We passed through the Peace Arch and somehow, despite the weirdness of my (true) story of nomadic identity, they let us into the country. Oh, Canada!

Vancouver is a wonderful city and I really liked it, but felt that it wasn't quite what I expected. If I had had more time to really explore, or had been based in a different part of the city, perhaps I may have felt differently. Annie and I spent our first day in Stanley Park, the big parcel of forest that is preserved and integrated into the city. It's like Central Park, but a natural forest full of giant redwoods, ferns, beaver ponds, etc - in fact, it much resembled the primordial world of the Redwood Forest. Truly a major achievement in conception and execution. We basically got lost in there for most of the day, popping out every once and a while to view the beaches or rose gardens and the like. We even went off the trail despite the fact that bears and other wildlife still roam the park. That night we grabbed the one affordable meal we had - amazingly fresh sushi at the suspiciously named "Sushi Mart" - and then walked down to the Gastown, one of the younger, more hip sections. Apparently it's the spot where people smoke a lot of pot and all the bars are. Yet, the nightlife scene left a lot to be desired. It also aroused a question that I've had since turning 21. Where do all the kids my age hang out? Because in every town I've been in, when I go to a bar, I'm almost always the only person under 25 there. Who knows?

The next day I had a great breakfast - a bagel with blueberries and melted brie on top. Try it! Then over to the University of British Columbia to go to their tremendous Anthropology Museum, with an incredibly strong and well-displayed collection of work from nations of the Northwest and Canada. Beautiful art and ceremonial pieces dot the entire museum, from giant totem polls to canoes to textiles. What's remarkable about the joint though, is that the museum acknowledges that these are, in many cases, sacred objects that are on display and they do a responsible and admirable job working with the nations to see that the objects are properly respected. Another cool aspect is that the museum has old pieces and pieces by more contemporary artists, adding to an intriguing comparative aspect. In particular, the work of Bill Reid was standout.

Then we went to another park on the river in south side of town (below) to relax some more, eventually ending up at the somewhat funky, somewhat bourgeois shops of Granville Island. Very nice farmer's market and a great wine store. Dinner at a Japanese tapas restaurant where I had fresh and well dressed raw oysters. Yum! Then walked down to their amazing convention center, which looks from the distance like the Richard Serra piece at Storm King, past the Olympic torch and sat by the water drinking from a flask and watching the lights in town against the mountains and water. It's a little like I imagine Rio would be (or at least from Black Orpheus), but y'know, in Canada.

The next day it was time to return to America. It's sort of weird how Canada really does feel like a foreign land, doesn't quite feel like home (and yet somehow a place like Bardstown, KY does?). Vancouver, you done me right. And especially on the way out of town, where we stopped to purchase wine recommended by HBA (props.) and also got a bagel with fresh lox. So onwards to the Olympic Peninsula in Washington, but wait! Oh, it's American efficiency at the border. Let's take all the early Saturday morning traffic and bring it down to three lanes: one for cars, one for RVs and one for Nexus. God bless this land!

So finally, after being caught between Canada and America for a good three minutes, we make it back across the border and are on our way to a funeral for Annie's great-uncle Bill. Lots more traffic awaits and we finally make it to Arcadia, the cabins they built on the south end of the Sound with a criminally beautiful view of Mt. Rainer. Absolutely amazing and even the memorial get-together was fun, as the whole thing was an ice cream social to celebrate his life. Then we set off north on the Peninsula to try and find camping.

Search for camping was an "epic fail," as they say out here in Los Angeles. Not only was it a weekend, but it was a weekend where admission to all the parks was free. Praise be! Except they were crowded as hell. After venturing and becoming uber-cranky, we ended up crashing at an Extended Stay in Olympia, or rather some outer rim locale that uses the title Olympia to drive up prices - such is life.

The next day, we drove round virtually the entire Olympic Peninsula. Heading north, we stopped midday at Hurricane Ridge and this good ol' boy from Virginia got to see his first glacier. The views were out of control. The dynamics of the landscape looked fake and especially look photoshopped in photo, but that's god's green earth for ya. We continued around, finally making it Forks, Washington - some of you may know this place as the location of Twilight series. Hurrah! Think about depressed logging town after depressed town as you round this whole, amazing countryside and then, BOOM! hundreds of tourists in a thriving town. The lesson is, the invisible hand does not rule the economic sphere - vampires do.

Eventually we made it to Hoh National Forest, technically the only temperate rainforest in the continental US. While the only thing differing in Hoh from other old growth forests in the region is the amount of precipitation, we did camp beneath wise, mossy trees on a river in bear country. The only thing you can really say to such a perfectly wondrous scenario as that is, this ain't too bad, this ain't shabby at all. (We didn't see a bear - don't listen to Annie.)

The next day, it was on to Lakeside, Oregon. On the way down, we basically ran across Annie's folks on the highway and decided to stop and grub just north of Portland. A rule of thumb for the Northwest - Country kitchens are the place to be at - drive-in's will also work - but these country kitchens, particularly if they are spelled kountry kitchen, are where you need to be at. After that a rather uneventful caravan procession ensued down to the lake house, otherwise known as paradise.

To keep this brief, I will just illuminate some of the highlights of the almost week spent in Lakeside. Two personal triumphs occurred that I would like to call your attention to. For one thing, I learned how to build a fire. And for another, I was taught how to fish. I caught nothing, still don't know how to take the fish off the hook were I to catch anything, but I still consider this big news considering I come from a family that on Indian Guide camping trips never once (well my dad claims once) spent the night outside in a tent, but left to go home.

While the weather wasn't optimal, it was still great fun. We went to a seafood festival, hiked by the shore line, had many a happy hour, Stan bought and wore a Reedsport Wedding shirt on one of his many, many daily expeditions, and on and on. Lakeside is about doing nothing, sinking into the earth and just relaxing. For the most part, this was achieved and for that I am grateful. Thanks always to the Stinchfield and the Danis families for their warmth, generosity and hospitality.

On the way back down, we high-tailed it to Berkley to crash at a high school friend of Annie's. Lizza and Brad are incredibly interesting and wonderful people, the type you are always grateful to meet on the road. They let you know that what's up elsewhere, that people are hip to it and it's a good feeling. Lovely meal and walk through the campus turned into the next day and a rendevous with one of my best buddies from school and the radio station - the Legend, Logan Ledger, otherwise known as the Lorax. He does the Bluegrass show on WKCR from 10 to noon on Sundays - tune in, you will never regret it. He is also one of the coolest people I know, extremely knowledgeable (I mean bordering on ridiculous), and so low key and kind. So it was an absolute pleasure and joy to join him in his hometown for a brief jaunt to a nearby mountain with outstanding views of the Bay on one side and the Pacific on the other.

Finally, a long long drive back down I-5 to Los Angeles.

Whew! I think that roughly covers it, or at least what you'd like to hear. Should I remember more details, I will update, liberally