Sleeping in Reststops, Meeting Deformed Deers, and Couchsurfing a Carnival
Best story of my cousin (and first one I tell if I get the chance) involves my sister thinking he is the cutest of all the cousins (which is saying something as there are like 30 of us or something). She lays on her back, holds him over her head, and tells him this fact. His reaction? He throws up directly into her mouth.
That story gets me every time.
So that and a handful of other childhood memories are pretty much all us two kids have of each other. Therefore, when I got the news from my aunt that Patrick has just sold all his belongings, stuffed the rest in his Corolla, and set off up the California coast to “find himself”, I knew we needed to talk.
Let’s keep it brief. June was a rough one for me. My dad died, I quit my job, left my belongings in San Fran, and am just….floating in the pool all day, crying, and wondering what to do next. All of sudden Patrick and I have this amazing conversation about his journey and equally about mine, and we realize, we need to be together for this. Fast forward two weeks, and we are sitting in a Denny’s outside of Sacramento, downing cup after cup of cheap coffee, and chatting so fast and so excitedly it’s as if the world knew we needed this.
To follow is a photo (and caption) journey of our month being Bummin’ Cousins’ from California to Washington to rest stops to tree houses. It was rad, it was weird, and it was very very needed. For both of us.
Denny’s in Sacramento –> Apartment in San Francisco
Jived on too much bottomless coffee, we say fuck it and head to my apartment in SF that I’m currently subletting. Two fuzzy days in the Mission later….
San Francisco –> Mount Shasta
We need to camp. Get us out of the city. Unfortunately, we don’t dig paying 20 bucks for camping, so Shasta lasts for all of two days….
Shasta –> Ashland, Oregon
Sometimes I forget how much of a hippie I have become, and my cousin is quickly becoming. Then we hit Ashland, and find the mecca of clean, pretty, happy hippies. It becomes clear immediately we just may belong here, and are both having a hard time leaving this place. I mean, we both walked into the natural grocery store and separately met eyes with our potential future mates. So…..yes, it was hard to leave.
Ashland –> Eugene –> Huckleberry
In true roadtrippin/cheapo/hippie/awesome fashion, it is time to ‘Rest Stop It’. Really, pretty comfortable, with clean bathrooms and a warm sleeping bag. Oh, and a bottle of rum to drift off to sleep with. From there, we end up camping in a free and remote drive-in campsite outside of Crater Lake called Huckleberry. Beyond the greatness already mentioned, this is also where we meet Larry the Deer (aka our deer/dear friend Larry). He’s one of God’s very special creatures…
We part ways with Larry after cracking some pretty great jokes at his expense, and severely hurting his feelings and already faltering self-confidence. After leaving the poor dear in a state of depression, we enjoy the beauty of Crater Lake. From there, it is time to surf some couches, and perfectly we have plans to meet up with a fun sounding mandolin player up in Portland.
Heaven. Our couchsurfer literally leaves his door open, welcomes a rotating door of international travelers, and compliments us by hosting us as his first domestic CSers. Our whirlwind of Portland includes tree houses in the backyard, beers at a river hangout for two days, the city’s international beer festival, and learning dutch words in the presence of a handmade pirate carnival bar. Feel free to read that sentence again….
We somehow loose an immeasurable amount of time in Portland, and after swearing we will be back one day, head to the remote and serene San Juan Islands up at the top of the Washington/Canada border. After splurging on a seafood dinner and a foggy ferry ride, we are welcomed by a beautiful hike-in campground to detox and reflect, and just be in nature…..
I shall be flying out of Seattle. We eat oysters, take a spin on the ferris wheel, and laugh about Larry some more (he has now become my cousin’s Spirit Guide, dubbed thusly in Portland)…
And from there I depart. My cousin has decided to move to Portland, and ends up living with our Couchsurfing host and continue carnival life. I have decided to return to Arizona to enjoy life there and plot slowly my next move. And who knows? Larry, my cousin, and carnival couchsurfing may be part of my life again sooner than we all know….
Life can be rough, but it sure does know what it’s doing. One minute you can be crying in a pool in Arizona, the next telling a deer to get a life, followed by highfiving 10 new friends in a treehouse.