Part One - San Francisco to Chicago
Well I've gone from a hot, dry, wild-fire caused
haze to torrential downpours, downed trees, power
outages and floods all in one week. Almost afraid to
see what's next. Yesterday's storms proved once again
that Californians don't know what a real thunderstorm
is - and maybe that's a good thing. The skies just
opened up and dumped 4-5 inches of rain in a fairly
short period. It was pretty amazing to watch while I
was save and dry at my friends' house but when it died
down I had to head out to meet friends for dinner.
There were lots of traffic delays, flooded streets,
downed trees, etc. More storms are possible today but
then the weather should start clearing over the
weekend.
I have managed to have a good time despite the
weather. The first week in SF was nice. It gave me a
chance to say goodbye to friends. It also gave me the
opportunity to rethink how I was going to pack for the
trip. As I was clearing out the apartment I realized I
had far more junk than I thought. I sold, donated, and
threw out tons of stuff and yet there was still more.
I was getting frustrated and couldn't figure out how I
managed to get so much crap in a little one-bedroom
apartment. I vowed to only live in studios with no
closets from now on so that doesn't happen again.
Staying with my friend in the city was nice except
that all his summer guests seemed to pick that week to
visit so I went back and forth from bed to couch.
I started the actual journey on Monday, the 13th.
The drive started with a two-hour detour at the
Cartenas (sp?) Bridge. I actually got a call from
Sandy Hanson, a former collogue, while stuck in traffic
and we had a nice conversation which helped pass the time.
After about 13 or so hours of driving I made it to Twin Falls, ID.
Not much to mention about that drive though I do love
going over the Sierras. There is a rest stop just
before the Nevada state line that has some short
hiking trails which provided a nice opportunity to get
out and stretch my legs. The next day I was headed for
Bozeman, MT. I took smaller highways and stayed off
the interstates. My first stop was Craters of the Moon
National Monument. It's a giant lava field in the
middle of rural Idaho. What makes it especially
interesting is there's no volcano. The lava seeped out
through a series of fissures. It makes for many
interesting landforms. After that I moved into Montana
and clipped the western edge of Yellowstone. While
there, there was a 30-minute traffic delay. I was
starting to see the haze from the fires but the view
was still spectacular. I appreciated the chance to get
out of the car and walk around a bit. Of course the
first thing I heard was some lady complaining about
having to wait. My thought was, look around, if you
have to be delayed it might as well be in heaven.
That night I stayed with the sister of a friend
and her husband. It was a nice visit though a little
awkward as I had never met them before. Bozeman is a
cute town and probably a lot prettier when it isn't
shrouded in haze. The next day's drive was
disappointing. It should have been very scenic but all
the views were obscured by smoke from the fires. It's
amazing how much of the state is impacted by what's
going on. I actually drove by one of the fires (but
was a safe distance away). I stayed in Kalispell the
next two nights so I could spend some time in Glacier
National Park. It was the only hotel I spent two
nights, instead of just one, and of course it was the
dumpiest - however it served the purpose. I was all
set for disappointment at the park (which was supposed
to be the highlight of the trip) because of the haze
but the park managed to deliver anyway. Glacier is
like Yosemite in that even on a less-than-perfect day
it still takes your breath away. I took the
Going-to-the-Sun Highway to the top and did some
hiking. On the way there was another traffic delay due
to construction. The crowd saw a mother bear and two
cubs foraging on the hillside just above the road. So
we spent the time watching them. When else but on
vacation could traffic jams be so fortuitous. When I
got to the top I hiked around for a few hours and came
across marmots, Columbian ground squirrels and
mountain goats. The goats seemed pretty used to people
and came pretty close; they liked using the trails
and, while keeping their distance, shared the trails
with the hikers. The wind picked up a bit in the
afternoon and while it didn't clear away the haze
completely it open up the views which were
breathtaking. If you like that type of experience I
highly recommend Glacier; I hope to return and spend
more time someday.
I drove through the park on the way out the next
day. It was very hazy again and that lasted for
several hours. When it did start to clear I was in
eastern Montana and the Great Plains. I see why
they're plain but I'm not so sure why they're great -
I guess because the go on forever and ever. Before I
could see too much blue sky I caught up to the storm
that is covering much of the plains and midwest. So
much for 'Big Sky' country. By the time I got to North
Dakota the weather was overcast and drizzly. The next
day I went to Theodore Roosevelt National Park. The
day started off overcast but no threat of rain. The
park is part of the badlands that extends into South
Dakota and is full of interesting landforms. The park
was pretty quiet and when I went hiking I had the
trail to myself; well almost. I was trucking along
taking in the sites when all of a sudden I heard a
loud rattle in the grass next to the trail. Sure
enough there was a rattle snake a foot or two away,
coiled and ready to strike. If there was an olympic
event for the backward, standing long jump I would
have set a world record. Fortunately, snakes give
plenty of warning before striking or I would have been
in trouble. Then I had to ponder two things: how to
get past it and could I get close enough to take a
picture. I got my camera out but as I inched closer I
could see he was still very agitated and too hard to
focus in on from a distance so I gave it up. I ended
up going wide around him on the other side of the
trail all the while praying that he didn't have any
relatives hiding in the grass on that side. Needless
to say I was a bit jumpy for the rest of the hike.
There was a constant surge of grasshoppers that would
fly off loudly as I progressed on the trail giving me
a start each time. Just as I was getting used to that
a little bunny darted across the trail in front of me
and I nearly jumped out of my skin. When I was near
the end of the trail I ran across a herd of about 20
buffalo. I watched them for a while from a distance
and felt very fortunate to see that. Though at that
point I realized it was time to turn around and head
back as walking among buffalo is not advised. By then
the sun had come out and it turned out to be a very
nice afternoon. And no, I didn't see the snake again
on the way back to the car. By the time my visit was
over the skies clouded up again - I thought it was
very nice of mother nature to light up my trip like
that.
The next day took me to Hudson, WI, a little
river town just across the state line from MN. I had
an opportunity to spend time with an old, high-school
friend and her family who lived nearby. It's a
beautiful area; I'd like to come back and explore some
of the little towns around there. The next day was on
to Illinois. I was going to stop in Madison on the
way, I heard it was a very nice city and had never
been, but it was pouring when I got there so I just
kept going. I got to my sister's house and had a nice
visit with them. The rest of the week I'm spending at
my friends' in Chicago. It's been very nice to be in
one place for a stretch and they have a very
comfortable guest room. Scheduling visits with friends
and family has worked out amazingly well; I feel very
fortunate. I had an odd feeling, however, the other
day. I took my car in for an oil change and while
filling out the paperwork the attendant asked where I
lived. I was taken aback for a second; I didn't know
how to answer that. I ended up giving my friends'
address. It was the first time I really felt homeless
and while it didn't bother me too much, it was a bit
unsettling.
Next week will be the hard part. I want to leave
on Monday but I haven't figured out how to proceed
from here. That will be my task for today and
tomorrow. I'll let you know how it works out.
Part Two - Chicago to Maine
I believe when I last left off I had arrived in Chicago. I ended up spending a little over a week there which gave me plenty of time to see family and friends. That Thursday I was scheduled to head out to the suburbs to visit a high-school friend and his family for dinner. However, earlier in the day the area had one of the worst thunderstorms I’ve ever seen in Chicago. A few inches of rain fell in a very short time flooding streets and causing rivers, that were already running high, to overflow and flood neighborhoods. The wind ripped large branches off trees and, in some cases, lifted the whole tree right out of the ground. The neighborhood I was staying in looked like a war zone where trees were the victims. Crews worked round the clock for the next several days to get it cleaned up. Many people were without power as well.
After the worst of the storm had passed and I was able to drive to my friends’. Actually made pretty good time until the last few miles. What should have taken five minutes took over 30 because traffic lights were out. Not long after I got there the rain started again. The wind wasn’t as bad this time but it was pouring buckets. The family had lost power and it was tough to keep the windows open without getting rain inside so I got the full, hot-and-humid effect of a summer storm. After the rain subsided, yet again, we headed out for dinner only to find most of the streets in the area were flooded and some looked impassable. We ended up eating at a fast food joint right around the corner. Afterwards, we headed back to the house. They insisted I should spend the night but I was anxious to get back to air-conditioning. Luckily by the time I left the streets had drained and it was smooth sailing.
I had originally planned on leaving Chicago on Monday (8/27) but wasn’t sure what I wanted to do next. I was planning on spending the next weekend, Labor Day, in New York and I couldn’t decide if it was worth it to try and go to Portland first, go directly to NY or go to my brother’s in Vermont and drive down from there. If I did that I could empty out the car before NY but then I’d have to drive back to pick it up again. My brother recommended going to VT and flying down and that’s what I decided to do.
My brother lives near Montpelier, VT which I found to be an enchanting little town. It’s small but has a nice little downtown and there seems to be a fair amount to do considering the size. It’s historical town with lots of older buildings, most in pretty good shape, tucked into an area of densely forested hills. The people seem to be a mix of conservative New Englanders, hippies and rednecks. I went to a coffee shop for breakfast and listened to some of the conversations. Interestingly, the rednecks there seem fairly liberal – I would have thought liberal redneck was an oxymoron, but maybe not. Two guys got to talking about relationships and how it, whatever they were saying, is the same if you’re into guys or girls. It was bizarre.
In New York I had a great time visiting a friend that lives in the upper west side of Manhattan. The weather was ideal and we ended up just hanging out in different neighborhoods: Battery Park, Washington Square Park, Times Square, etc. We would start out with a long coffee/breakfast outing, then walk around a neighborhood or people watch in a park, and finally head out for dinner and maybe a drink afterwards. It was a perfect ‘summer in New York’ weekend.
Manhattan affects me in a unique way when it comes to a sense of safety. Because it is so crowded, you do need to be on guard – keep your wallet in your front pocket, be aware if who’ around you, etc. – but the vast numbers of people also gives a sense of security; you’re never alone. I thought about that because of a little phone incident I had. Friday evening, around 10:30, three of us were having a drink and got to talking about cell phones. Instinctively, I checked my pocket only to find my phone was gone. Using another phone, we called my number and a young guy answered. He had found it in a cab, must have fallen out of my pocket, and was very nice about trying to get it back to me. He lived in New Jersey but said he was heading into the city later that night (keep in mind it was already 10:30), he would call and we could meet somewhere. After we talked, it occurred to me that it might not be a good idea to try and meet a stranger, in New York, in the middle of the night – I was probably pushing my luck. Ultimately I did abandon that plan and sent a text to my phone saying I’d be in touch the next day. Later I had a message saying ‘you wuss’ – not a good sign. The next day a woman had the phone, said she’d send it to me but I’ve never gotten it. Didn’t matter, by that time I had already stopped service on that phone and bought a new one. The point of all that is that New York has such a different vibe then anywhere else I’ve ever been. Later that night, we were sitting in a park and there were drunks stumbling by and a homeless man trying to make a bow and arrow but there were also couple walking hand-in-hand, people walking their dogs, even a few families out for a midnight stroll. It’s all there and part of you thinks I shouldn’t be here but another part thinks it’s fascinating.
It was interesting to be in Montpelier one day and NYC the next. The differences, size and setting, are pretty obvious but I think they have a lot in common as well. They both have a vast variety of people that seem perfectly comfortable intermingling in the same neighborhood. There was no sense of judging or tension – more of a ‘do your own thing’ mentality. In Montpelier the diversity was more about lifestyle and economic level whereas in New York there is ethnic variety as well. Still, in both places everyone seemed like they belonged.
Finally, it was time to head to Portland. It’s only a four-hour drive from my brother’s but I get a late start waiting for some mail that I had forwarded to Vermont. The drive through that part of Vermont is beautiful. I had been to southern Vermont before and wasn’t overly impressed. Northern Vermont is much more mountainous and, in my opinion, much prettier. In a few weeks I plan on driving back that way just to see the mountains when the leaves have turned color – it must be spectacular. Once you get to New Hampshire, about half way, there are two ways you can go: one is more direct but involves smaller, two-lane highways, the other is more out-of-the-way but sticks to interstates. My plan was to take the latter but after missing an exit I ended up on the smaller highway. I could have turned around but I just figured it was meant to be. I do love going through the little towns along the way anyhow. Maybe I could be the next Jack Keroac and drive around the country and write.
When I got to Portland I was expecting a big, ‘I have arrived!’ moment, instead I had a ‘this is it?’ moment. In all fairness, I was actually in South Portland staying at an airport hotel. It was across from a giant mall, surrounded by other strip malls. Now that I’ve been here awhile I have learned that it is the least attractive place in the whole area. However, even the next day when I did head into Portland I wasn’t immediately bowled over. I shouldn’t, though it’s hard not to, compare my arrival in Portland to my arrival in San Francisco. Sixteen years ago, when I drove to San Fran, I arrived in the city on a beautiful spring day in April. I crossed the Golden Gate Bridge right at sunset. Short of angels singing, it was a very ethereal moment. To top it off, the friend I was staying with for the first few weeks lived in Pacific Heights – I nearly panicked when I saw the hill I had to drive up, but when I did, what a view. Portland doesn’t take your breath away like that; instead I think it has a charm that grows on you with time.
Portland is just that, a port town. As such, many of the buildings were built for function more than for looks. Red brick dominates the port area and though the buildings may appear unimpressive on the outside, many have been turned into trendy restaurants, art galleries and a variety of small shops. Not much has been done with the waterfront but I have learned that there are plans for redevelopment and, of course, controversy surrounding those plans. I have seen a few large cruise ships in the port so I sense that tourism here is doing well.
I short stroll up the street takes you to Congress Street, the main thoroughfare through town. Walking along it gave me a mixed sense of how the city is doing. In parts there was a fair amount of activity, a farmers’ market, people milling about. Other sections seemed somewhat abandoned, less traffic and vacant buildings. I didn’t notice much construction going on which had me concerned as to the economic wellbeing of the area. The downtown area is on a peninsula and there is a promenade on either side where, historically, many of the wealthier residents lived. Despite the formidable nature of the mansions, the landscaping was basic and didn’t reflect the grandeur of what they must have been like decades ago.
My first impressions gave me concern but the more I’m here and the more I look around I am seeing signs of hope. While I haven’t noticed many big construction projects there is a lot of rehabbing going on. Many of the older buildings are being remodeled, the brick streets and sidewalks are being repaired and one gets the sense that the town is trying to clean up while maintaining its character. You won’t see many box stores or strip-malls, they’re all in South Portland.
Besides exploring my first week here I was also looking for a place to live. Using Craigslist I had contacted a number of people with rooms to rent or apartments to share. Unfortunately, by the time I got here most were taken; I ended up only seeing two. The first was is Saco which is a town about 15 minutes south of Portland. It was a small condo but very new and set up nicely. The owner was from Maine originally and had just moved back from San Diego to take care of his ailing parents. Living there would have been a lot like living in San Carlos – a very nice, middle-class neighborhood, cute downtown, etc. The other place, where I ended up, is in Falmouth just five minutes north of downtown Portland. I didn’t see the second place until after I had already decided to go ahead with the condo, though something told me not to turn down the house just yet. On Saturday, five days after arriving in Portland, I moved into the condo. It was a horribly hot and humid day. The condo was on the second floor, had cathedral ceiling and felt like you were in an attack. My stomach was really bothering me and I was feeling more and more uneasy – it just didn’t feel right. The roommate helped me bring my things in, showed me around, introduced me to a neighbor, drove me around town and we had a nice lunch together. Afterwards I began to unpack. The bedroom was nice but small; there was enough room for my stuff but that was about it. The heat was getting to me and I decided to lay down for a minute but the music from the other room and the fact that the roommate was right outside the door made it hard to get comfortable. I was realizing that the small size of the place would not allow for much privacy. Charles, the roommate, decided to leave for a while and give me some time to get settled. He went outside and had a conversation with a neighbor which I almost felt apart of as I could hear most every word. There was going to be no peace and quiet there.
At that moment I had a breakdown. This was a nice place, in a nice town but I didn’t want to live in ‘San Carlos’ anymore. The feeling that I had made a huge mistake, wondering if Portland was really where I wanted to be, not knowing anyone, and missing everyone back home all hit at once. I lay down on the floor and cried for a good hour. Semi-composed, I called a couple friends and talked it through with them. The combination of crying and turning to friends was very cathartic. It was clear what I needed to do – repack and load up the car. I waited for Charles to return but after a few hours I decided to call him. He came home soon afterwards with pizza and a friend, he probably didn’t want to be alone with this nut-job, and we talked it out. He was very understanding at it worked out fine.
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