6/15/12
It’s nice driving from city to city in the Northwest without having to pay a dime for lodging, and that's what I've been doing for the past month and a half. However, I wasn’t aware of the creeping soreness that comes from traveling by car from buddy to pal to bro to homie. The usual suspect for a sore body is the variety of sleeping arrangements one encounters. There is the typical floor with or without sleeping pad or bag. Couches are a step up if they have the length to support the likes of my towering stature, not all did. At one point I found myself dangling dreamily in my hammock on the side of a river being speckled by a rainstorm. After all these unruly destinations for my slumbering corpse I found Lili had the most amazingly plush and comfortable mattress my weary bones had come across, but the catch was the pungent puppy piss or poop that always found it’s way onto my coveted mattress. After all these assorted beddings, my body was sore.
Alas my friends, soreness of the body is but one of many aches I endured on this trip. The runner up was none other than the self-imposed curse of youth, a hangover. I spent nearly two weeks in Spokane desperately trying to keep up with the spry livers of those still attending Gonzaga. Not my brightest idea. I’m convinced there’s more PBR in that town than H2O. I had no choice but to savagely guzzle my way in and out of an army of red cups like Gerard Butler striking deadly blows into a sea of Persians. As heroic as it felt each night, each following morning my wounded, swollen brain would chastise my foolish fisticuffs with the beer gods. I had to escape. So to the Deschutes River I ran, thinking three days rafting in the wilderness would rid my body of its demons. If you think this plan worked, you have never met river folk. They take the intensity of college alcoholism and put it in every extreme setting available. I cannot put into detail the shenanigans that occurred, but we came out of every situation safe. With my body feeling poison in every fiber, I set my sights for Lili’s new digs: Sun Valley, Idaho.
Again, I hoped to escape the soreness that had shadowed me for so long but was sorely disappointed. For those of you who don’t know what kind of person my sister is, let me explain it: she’s a freak…athlete that is. She put me through a boot camp that only your kin can enforce, because no matter how much a drill sergeant yells at you there is nothing more motivating than getting physically bested by your sister. She forced me to do Crossfit (Jane Fonda meets GI Jane meets Satan). She took me on runs. We went mountain biking, climbing, and finally mule riding with big daddy Alec. After all this I adopted the Sun Valley swagger, a sort of whole body fatigued saunter that can only be achieved from strenuous workout. This lifestyle suits the populace because most people there are ex-Olympians trying to start families to breed more Olympians. Following Sun Valley there was finally Portland, the land of indulgence. With all of Ptown’s road bikes, facial hair, piercings and what could only be described as relatives of Beetlejuice (copyright Laura) my only sore muscle was my hip…pause for laughter.
Having said all that, every city was hard to leave because people truly make the place. I never expected this trip to rival South America, but it did. I left each city wishing I could stay longer. Inevitably the next city would cast its irresistible charm and the cycle would repeat itself. If you were one of the many who hosted me on this trip, thanks. At the moment I’m waiting in the Oakland Airport for my flight to Austin to witness the Letsinger’s consecrate some sort of holy matrimony. IT’S WEDDING SEASON
Don't worry, these updates will turn to their original subject of fishing very soon, I'll be in Sitka on the 26th.
Enjoy your weekend wherever you are, sleep on a floor or two.
Mac
