In my last adventures up in the pacific north west I decided to get back to nature since after all it was all around me and being from the shallow, fake world that is southern California and the concrete jungle that is New Jersey I needed to take in more of these amazing vistas. Besides I already had gotten my drunken party out of my system and my urban exploration. There were two more stops that had to be made: a journey to the sea and a trip up to Mt. Hood.
Ahh the smell of the sea
I had been land locked for days and although I was right on the Columbia River I needed to see some beach. Plus if there is a coast line in reasonable distance of a place I am visiting I have a need to see what might be there. If your a surfer you are always doing recon. Heck I was scouting up and down the Columbia and every other mountain stream or brook for the possibility of a standing wave. Of course I had absolutely no access to a board or gear, but if I found something intriguing a return trip could be in my future and one never knows whats around the next bend on the path of life.
Fuck, my crazy mother had me married to some park ranger who worked at Mt. Saint Helens, with six kids and living in the quaint little mountain town of Castle Rock, Washington. See part II of this saga for more about those adventures. One must remember that my mother is out of her gourd. Lets face it the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree folks. My whole entire family for that matter is nothing more then a jar of mixed nuts you could buy for $1.99 at the supermarket.
The drive out took almost two hours where we passed all sorts of crazy things including a giant chicken on top of a fried chicken and pizza restaurant. We cruised through this very industrialized logging town. It was a Sunday and the town just had this feel of a despairing rest. Everyone who was there was trapped in their unhappy mundane lives wishing for more, but with out an inkling of a way out. Maybe I was just reading too much into the place. The few people I saw walking around looked rather sad and dejected. My guess was it was the kind of town who’s inhabitants spent the bulk of their money at the raunchy local strip joint stuffing grease stained dollar bills in the g-string of over weight, toothless strippers, before adjourning to the street corner to pick up an even worse looking prostitute.
I love those contrasts. The town just before this one was a tiny little spot with cute Victorian houses on the river. Kids playing in the front yard of their homes and grandma and grandpa swaying to and fro in a rocking chair on the porch. Unfortunately in this world one extreme cannot exist with out the other. I guess it comes down to how to best play the hand you were dealt. Did I mention it was a long car ride. Between my Sister and her fiance getting all snugly in the back seat next to me and my parents banter to one another I needed to get lost in my own thought.
That’s one giant cock right there.
From there we crossed a series of bridges yet nothing yet resembled signs that we were getting close to the sea. Then the mouth of the Columbia River got very wide. The ships on it became ocean liners and the air had the smell of the sea. I took in a deep breath of relief. Like a fish out of water finally returned I felt at ease.
The plan, cause everything on this trip had to have a plan was to go up to Fort Clatsop, the final ending point on the Lewis and Clark expedition. As it turns out this spot was where they spent the winter before heading back east to report their findings. There was a little museum and a replica of the actual fort the boys built back in the day. The replica had in character period actors. It was kind of interesting, but I hate all that Disney type shit. As I was meandering around this fort one of these farce people came over and began talking to me like it was the early 1800’s.
I was about to fuck with the dude a bit when some other guy shows up wearing a Lewis and Clark t-shirt. From there it was on. Him and costume guy got into a giant debate over who was the best Lewis and Clark historian. Then some other woman also wearing a different Lewis and Clark t-shirt got involved while I slipped out the back of the fort before a heated game of dungeons and dragons broke out. I was only wearing a Kramer style button down and there was not anyone there dressed like the cast of Seinfeld.
There were some cool looking hiking trails all along the park. My mom really wanted to see the sun set over the ocean. For us west coasters that is not big deal since it happens everyday but if you live on the east coast your shit out of luck. There was a few hours to kill so why not go for a hike. I love nature, who doesn’t? The march began. At first it was a mellow trail along the river passing by old logging drop spots and just greenery. Walking through the woods up there is just so enchanting. One gets the feeling of being in some fairly tale or fantasy movie.
As we were on this hike we began to hear what sounded like passing cars. It was not long before we realized that our blissful solitary stroll through the woods was actually right along side a rather busy through way. Over it I noticed another trail head that appeared to allow us to go deeper into the wilderness yet still circle back to where the car was parked. Using my great powers of persuasion I convinced my party to stray from the plan and see what might come of us.
It did not take long for this trail to engulf us in the midst of a thick old pine forest with little streams running through it. I straight up felt like I was in Lord of the Rings. All this time in nature really had me wishing I had some pot. I am not a big smoker or anything, but there is something just surreal about the way I interact with nature when I have some of its offerings inside my lungs. As of yet I could not get my hands on even an eight. Everyone at the wedding was a square and my day running around Portland proved rather fruitless as well.
By this point I was resolved on the fact that I just was going to have to enjoy nature with out the bud. Then about half way through the trail it happened. I noticed an orange prescription canister typical of the cannabis clubs. I figured it was empty but at the same time thought it a terrible place for litter to be left and picked it up to throw it away later. Just for shits and giggles I took a peak inside. Sure enough it was full. There had to be at least three grams in there and it smelled pretty good.
Talk about a gift from the gods. Someone told me once a long time ago if I really wanted something bad enough and then focus my energy on its accomplishment things would materialize. Its about fucking time that held true. Now I was faced with a serious conundrum. How the fuck was I going to smoke this stuff. As we were coming into the park I remembered seeing a Rite Aid, boom papers and a lighter coming right up.
Myself, Larry, Val and my mother on this crazy little bridge we came across on the hike.
My evening was made. A beach sunset with a fatty. Soon a new problem presented itself. Turns out we must have missed a trail marker and were completely lost in the woods. The other issue was that the park locked it’s gates at 6pm and it was steadily closing in on that time. My argument for not staying with the plan at this time had become very unpopular. Panic began to set in upon my father, sister and her fiance. My mother and I on the other hand were just cruising around taking it all in. It was not until she pointed out that if we got locked in then I would have now way to smoke my weed.
All of a sudden I got very motivated to find a way out. I thought we should keep on our current heading till we made it back to the road then follow the road back to the fort. I luckily assumed right and we just made it before lock down. I stopped and got my papers, light and a green Cadburry Egg. I love those things but usual can only find them around Easter. I don’t know if this was a new product or just left over, but it was gone, down my stomach before I had a chance to contemplate it.
With everyone happy it was off to the beach to see the sunset. We ended up in the town of Sea Side Oregon, which I thought was rather fitting for a car load of people from the Jersey shore. Seaside ended up being a typical American beach town with hotels and bungalows, a beach walk and the rest of that jazz. The beach itself was very large with big vast dunes. It looked like there was some type of river mouth on the north end of the beach and a giant head land to south. It was very cold with a stiff onshore wind.
The surf was very Ocean Beach, San Francisco looking and uninviting. Given the biting chill of the air I once again being the voice of insanity was able to convince everyone to build a beach fire out of this giant piece of drift wood we were sitting near by collecting small kindling. While this was going on I took to rolling my jay. By the time I was lit and puffing away so was their fire. Being from New Jersey where it is illegal to even listen to a radio on the beach the idea of building a fire and smoking was very novel to all of them.
Lets just say I was felling pretty good by the time this fireside picture was taken…
There we all sat the five us warmed by the heat of the fire watching the sun set on yet another successful day of adventuring. At this point our time together was coming to a close. As I sat there and looked over my family I could not help but notice how much all of us had changed over the last few years. My parents although a bit older seemed more relaxed and happy not that they are retired. My sister and Larry, soon to be husband and wife were holding one another near excited on the new chapter their lives are about to embark on. Myself at the moment caught in limbo waiting to see what life will unfold for me next. For that moment nothing else mattered except the fact that we were all there on that beach enjoying the fire and the sunset together.
Time moves fast and it had never been so evident to me until this trip happened. I have been caught up in the rapture of my own despair for so long I had almost forgot how great my family and spending time with them is. Life can have a really steep learning curve at times. Maybe I am finally getting around the bend.
Stay tuned for the finale, part V adventures from Mt. hood soon. In the mean time here is a cool picture I took of a bunch of shamrocks I found growing on the forest floor. I once knew this chick who grew shamrocks. She claimed she was Irish but I would later find out she was more like 1/8 Irish and 3/4’s Mexican and finally 100% cold hearted bitch.
Where is that Leprechaun, oh wait it’s Oregon not Ireland. Instead of a pot of gold I found a canister of green…he he
Surfing Ruined My Life 