The Coldest Winter I Ever Spent Was a Summer in San Francisco

That quote is attributed to Mark Twain, but I've also read somewhere that he never actually said it.

Well, he should have.

The redwoods in Northern California are as imposing and impressive as I'd imagined.

Our drive to Sonoma county is uneventful, and we use our instincts and a few helpful locals to wind up at a delicious Mexican restaurant in Santa Rosa along the way.

Around dinner time we hear from Christina's girl she knows in Sonoma, Kristen, and she's excited to have us for the night. We're excited to not be scrounging for a Motel 6.

We arrive at her home in Sebastopol, after a brief stop for some delicious icecream in town. It's one of the most peaceful and serene homes I've been in. She offers me a sip of her tea and then reads us our horoscopes.

There is a bedtime music mix already prepared and playing on the laptop and despite Mark's snoring I have probably the most restful night's sleep so far this trip.

The next day it's off to Jack London's former home, some wine tasting (I talk Argentine wine with the sommelier) and then a delicious meal at the restaurant where Kristen is a waitress when she's not teaching pre-school. It's all locally raised or caught food, and the fish is incredible. I try oysters and decide they do taste good, but not for me.

We head to Vacaville that night to stay with our friend Chris, with whom Mark and I used to swim when we were kids.

She is in the Air Force and living in a suburban-ish town by the air base.

It's nice to have a big apartment to stay in with a good friend, and not have to scrounge for parking. There is also laundry and wireless.

That weekend it's San Fran.

The weather is nice Saturday, and we walk all over North Beach, Fisherman's Wharf, and Ghiradeli Square. Our night on the town that evening ends with some delicious food from a South American restaurant that's open late. It's called "La Parilla Grill." Or, "The Grill Grill."

Sunday the weather turns colder and I'm reminded why the last time I was in San Fran I had to stop in a Gap to buy a long sleeve shirt while walking around. Mark and I are in the Mission District and raid the local Goodwill. I get a Banana Republic sweater, a t-shirt, and a light jacket for a total of $8.

Monday it's on the 1 and down to LA.

Pacific Coast Highway to Heaven

As we leave Portland and begin our journey across to the Oregon coast I am hyper-aware of my speed, my recent run-in with law enforcement fresh in my mind.

The donuts not quite having satisfied our hunger, we look for somewhere to stop and eat.

Burgerland, right off the freeway by where we stop to get gas, fits the bill.

The food is pretty good. And as an added bonus the counter guy slides a few free promo CDs they're giving away. It features all local Portland bands.

Our new road music proves to be a nice little gem, and quite awesome to listen to.

The Oregon coast is one of the most beautiful places I've ever been in my life. Pictures speak louder than words, so enjoy the ones I've uploaded.

We drive until it's dark and then find a hotel.

Tomorrow it's going to be Northern California and hopefully finding a place to stay in Sonoma. We still have not heard back from the girl who Christina knows through a friend and we're supposed to be staying with tomorrow night.

A Note From the Author

It's very hard to do a blog about a journey like this. One could write an entire book about the experience, easily.

Doing a whirlwind tour of 40 cities in 60 days, and drving over 10,000 miles in the process leaves little time for writing anything, and when I do have the time I find I'm usually too exhausted to compose anything coherent, let alone intersting.

So I do intend to continue this blog, since I started it and it seems to have a loyal following of my parents and at least two other people.

But don't expect all my interesting stories and observations to make it in. I would love to sit down and write a detailed, humorous account of every day of my trip, and I could if given the time, but sadly it's not in the cards.

So I'll keep you up to date on the hi-lights and lowlights. The delicious pizzas and speeding tickets. And all the friends I see along the way. But don't expert Newberry Award material. In fact, don't expect much and you'll get what I can give you.

Photo: Courtesy Mexican restaurant bathroom. Santa Rosa, CA.

Portland, OR (not Maine)

Tuesday morning we pack up the car and drive the comparitively short 3 hour drive to portland.

We arrive early enough in the day to get some lunch in the trendy downtown Pearl St. district. Then Mark and I leave Christina in the largest bookstore in North America. We walk around downtown a bit, sticking our head in art galleries and any other building that looks interesting, including a performance theater called The Armory which has fantastic architecture inside.

We meet back up with Christina and spend some time in the bookstore. This compliments my visit to the largest bookstore in South America earlier this year, El Ateneo in Buenos Aires.

Afterwards we take the streetcar up to Nob Hill and walk around, enjoying the elegant homes and peaceful streets. Portland reminds me greatly of a city like Marietta, if Marietta had progressed over time instead of staying in a perpetual time warp (save the addition of drive-thrus and Walmarts). The geography, especially being on a river with hilly, tree-lined streets emulates Southern/Eastern Ohio. It makes me feel very much at home.

My friend Amanda is in Portland for the summer, on break from Ballet Met Columbus to dance with a local Portland group. It's really cool to be able to meet up with her for dinner, and we go back down to the Pearl St. area and enjoy a great meal.

Afterwards it's back up to Nob Hill to experience some of the local nightlife. We check out a martini bar and walk around a bit.

Our hotel is far on the outskirts of town.

In the morning we venture back into town to visit the fabled VooDoo Donuts. An establishment where you can learn Swahili, be legally married, and eat some of the strangest donuts I've ever seen.

I feel sufficiently uncomfortable and the counter girl, probably on drugs, gives Christina the wrong donut.

We head out of Portland.

It's Always Sunny in Seattle

The drive through Washington is beautiful.

We arrive to Seattle safely despite the minor holdup (and major expense) in Oregon.

Reaching Scott by phone we put his address in our GPS. Of course, the way it tells us to take has us getting off the exit at Qwest Field right as a game lets out.

We drive around for a long time, combining directions from Scott via the phone with what the GPS and Mark's "instincts" tells us to do.

Finally we arrive at Scott's apartment in Fremont. Fremont is a really cool neighborhood a little Northwest of downtown. It's filled with young artist types, hipsters, and many cool shops, restaurants, and bars. Where we're staying is walking distance from the main drag on 36th street.

We walk downtown to scope out the scene and get a burrito.

The next morning Scott takes us around the surrounding neighborhoods. All of them very cool. We get some food at a farmer's market. Then we drive over to Capitol Hill. It's somewhat grunge, but also very cool (and gay) with many shops. Mark, Christina and I all make purchases at the Urban Outfitters. The tag on my shirt sets off the alarm as I leave and they try to de-magnetize it again to no avail. After another attempt I leave the store with the alarm sounding.

Their idea of a "thrift" store in Capitol Hill is generic giveaway t-shirts for $8. Back home I'll hit up Salvation Army or Goodwill and agonize over a $2 t-shirt purchase, wondering how often I'll really wear it and if it's worth the price. Usually passing it up for a $1 shirt, or hoping that it will go on sale the next time I'm in, with it's tag color being the 50% off discount that day. Needless to say, I don't buy anything at the Seattle thrift store.

Afterwards we drive to the locks where the salmon swim upstream by 'jumping' up a series of higher and higher tanks. You're able to go and watch through the glass as they attempt their journey upstream. Some of them look mean and like they'd take a bit out of me if they could. I don't feel so bad about eating them, that's for sure.

Fish and chips on the waterfront for dinner is delicious.

We take in the sunset over the Pugeot Sound from Golden Gardens and probably all do some self-introspection in the process of enjoying the beauty.

We make it an early night as there is a big day of hiking in store for us on Sunday.

Sunday Christina heads out to check out the city while Mark, Scott, and myself pile in Scott's car and pick up his friend and hiking buddy, Paulo.

It's a long drive to Leavenworth, WA (on the other side of the Cascade mountains) and I continue my trend of sleeping anytime I'm in a car and not driving.

It will get repitive for me to describe every sight I see along this journey as "beautiful" or "amazing." And I've got enough problems already with finding the time to write accounts of my journey, so in the interest of keeping things concise, from here on out assume that every natural wonder I see, every hike I take, every forest and hillside and vast field is indeed beautiful. I'll specifically mention only if something is less than incredible. For instance, let me go back and state that Indiana is incredibly uninteresting. There, I said it.

The hike is listed as 4 miles each direction with a couple thousand feet gain in elevation. It feels like a lot more than that. I'm not in hiking shape, but I'm able to keep on my feet and stick with the decent pace of the rest of the group. We stop several times to take in the gorgeous views, play in waterfalls, or climb on boulders.

At the top we reach Colchuck Lake, which is a glacial lake fed by melted snow. It's hot out, but the water temperature is probably between 50-55 degrees. Very cold. Mark, Paulo, and Scott all go swimming. I don't have a swimsuit or the need to freeze my butt off.

After a long day of hiking we stop in the nearby town. A very out of place Bavarian-themed tourist destination with many shops and restaurants. The whole place looks like it was taken directly from the alps and dropped in the Cascades.

It's not really my thing, for some reason. Everyone else seems rather enamored. I guess I'm just exhausted and want to get home.

The night we go downtown to see the new Batman movie. It's everything I hoped it would be and more.

Monday Scott works (everyone we meet on this trip seems to do that) and I join Mark and Christina downtown. It's not my first time in Seattle, so I don't need to see Pike's Market or the other normal stuff, but it's fun to walk around, and we're able to enjoy a nice lunch overlooking the Sound.

Seattle has a Denver/Boulder-style attitude towards panhadling and let's just say I don't share it. Most of the people asking me for money look as though they could easily find work if those chose to.

That night we meet up with Sarah, a friend of mine from high school who lives in Seattle now with her husband. We enjoy some great pizza (my favorite place from a previous visit) and some incredible local ice cream.

It's off to Porland the next day. Seattle is yet again a city I could easily spend a week or two in and not get bored. It's also one I would consider moving to. Cons are it's not cheap to live there, and the main weather forecast is cloudy and windy. We were very lucky with essentially 3 days of sun during our stay.