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Published: September 7th 2006
17th August to 1st September 2006
Two States and two similar experiences. Oregon and Washington both offered me many options on completing my US tour of duty in style. Different routes with different destinations and much to see and do along the way. Ahh, decisions, decisions, my favorite!
Both States started with me having to decide what road to ride up. In Oregon it was either continue along the coast and visit the Dunes National recreation area (50 miles of seaside sand on a massive scale) or cut in land and head for Portland via Crater Lake (which, I’m told, is the deepest in North America and has crystal clear waters). Once in Washington, it was a split between riding to Mount Ranier (the highest in the Cascades Range) or stay beside the Pacific and visit Long Beach (imaginative name for something that is twenty-four miles in length, the longest-although not natural- sand spit in the world). Both times I plumped for the most westerly option. Both times, my old friend the fog contrived to put a dampener on the day. The Dunes came and went without me seeing a single grain of sand and when I arrived
North End Lighthouse,
With Long beach just behind- Can't you see it?at North End Lighthouse to look out at Long Beach, I had trouble finding the viewpoint because the fog was so thick. Needless to say the vistas of the spit itself were somewhat spoiled. Never mind, them’s the breaks.
In both States I met up with friends that, again, went beyond the call of duty to make me feel welcome and help me out (thanks for everything guys). In Bremerton, pals of my mates in Tahoe put me up for a couple of nights and gave me invaluable advice on the next leg of my journey. And, I also met another old friend of theirs in Portland where many bevvies were consumed on their behalf in a few of its famous brewpubs. I did have a friend of my own making there too and I owe him a big thank you for all the help he gave me while I was there so, cheers to you too, Andrew.
I also needed another kind of help in the city of many micro-breweries because Suzi got sick again. On the day I decided to take a self-guided tour of the Columbia River Gorge, her cough returned and we had to
head back to town before she clapped out completely and spat out a lung. After spending six hours and nearly two-hundred dollars in a Suzuki dealership, the cause of her discomfort had been identified and fixed.... I hope.
About an hour outside Portland lies Mount St Helens. I took an organized tour to the area and, despite a hangover from hell, I had an amazing, awe-filled day. On the 18th May 1980 the volcano blew its top, literally. I remember watching pictures of the eruption on TV but, actually being there gives you a true impression of the size of the event. This was devastation of biblical proportions. The mountain is huge but a third of the northern face is missing due to the enormous landslide that preceeded the fireworks. This landslide and the floods it caused were devastating enough but, these were surpassed by the destructive forces of the Pyroclastic surge and flows that followed. The hills are still littered with the trunks of trees blown down by the force of the lateral blast. From a distance they look like toothpicks laid out in lines across the rolling hillsides. The heat and power of the first surge, which
Mount St Helens
Devastation personified (low cloud is partly obscuring the crater) comprised of mainly steam and ash, incinerated everything in its path for fifteen miles. The flow that followed, filled with super-heated Pumice, battered anything left standing in to submission.
At the visitor centre they show a short film documenting the disaster. It starts with serene pictures of the area before the eruption and then, as you hear rumbles in the background, it shows the side of the mountain collapsing and the world famous shots of the smoke ploom reaching high in to the clear blue, early Summer sky. The panicked voice of David Johnston, the US Geological Service observer -on a ridge less than five miles away from the summit- is heard almost screaming back to the headquarters near Portland; “Vancouver, Vancouver, this is it!” And then, there is only static from the severed radio signal as you watch the rest of the video. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. What must have gone through that man's mind in his last few moments? The poor guy had only relieved another observer the day before and he, being an expert, knew exactly what was going to happen and where the obliteration would occur but, just like
everybody else, he didn't know when. He had about three seconds to get that message out before the Pyroclastic surge hit him- traveling at six-hundred miles an hour and at a temperature of six-hundred and seventy degrees. I don’t suppose he had much time to think about anything really. Not a single trace of him was ever found. No surprise really as he was probably incinerated on the spot. But, the charred shell of his vehicle was later discovered, buried in the remnants of the eruption, in the next valley over from the observation ridge, which now bears his name.
I heard many stories of the Human side to this natural disaster during the day; People who wouldn’t move from their homes despite the danger and were wiped out like the doomed David Johnston, others that were in the area but had been told they were not in the risk zone so stayed and died as well and yet more still who had unbelievably lucky escapes. But, perhaps even more astounding than the Human side to the story is the way nature deals with events of this magnitude. Although great swathes of land near the mountain are still barren,
life is re-invading all the time. The deposits from the volcano's interior are being weathered and they break down to form media that plants can begin to colonise. This attracts insects back in to the area which, in turn attracts birds and larger mammals too. Little by little, a new eco-system is evolving from the ashes of Mount St Helens. New life from death and destruction. It is nature’s way, always has been and always will be. It takes a visit to somewhere like this to remind you how insignificant we are- just a bunch of animals living at the whim of the lump of revolving rock in space- and when you think of yourself like that, a lot of the everyday stuff of Human existence seems pretty insignificant too.
My main site of significance in Washington was Olympic National Park, an area of outstanding natural bio-diversity. In three days I trekked along Dungerness Spit (one of the longest natural ones in the world- where I spotted Seals just off shore), ambled through The Hoh Rain Forest (for once the weather was with me and I basked in dappled sunlight amongst the moss-covered trees instead of in the customary
Eeek- Elk!
Got 'er.....eventually coastal mists), lounged in hot springs at Sol Duc next to tumbling waterfalls and caught the sunset at Hurricane Ridge, which overlooks the towering peaks of the interior of the park. I also had a little dance with an Elk up there too; I heard it moving around behind some bushes I was passing and stopped to see if I could get a photo. However, as I moved one way around the shrubs, it would move in the opposite direction, keeping the greenery between us. This clockwise/anti-clockwise cavorting went on for a couple of minutes before I finally managed to out-fox it and get my shot. I hope no-one was watching, as the sight of me crouched down, tip-toeing gently back and forth around a bush with a camera in one hand and a crash helmet in the other may have been seen as slightly strange by any observers. It seemed perfectly normal to me.
I was using a hostel in Port Angeles as a base for my excursions in to Olympic and, although it was a friendly, cheap place, the daughter of the owner was a strange little character (yes, stranger than a grown man that dances with
Elks). She was about three or four but had yet to master any developed language skills. Every word was constructed from only the first syllable of the words she mumbled out making her sound like a very young baby when she talked. I didn’t catch a word of what she said the entire time I was there, although her mother seemed to have no trouble at all deciphering her drivel. In addition to this (which may have been caused by some kind of learning difficulty and, if so, I apologise profusely for going on about her), she had the most irritating habit of screaming at everything. Well, it was a sort of half scream, half squalk combination really. Her mum would be on the ‘phone or giving a guest some information or, perhaps, simply just not be paying her enough attention and she would screech out this “Eeeeaaaarrrkk!” at a decibel level that would shatter windows and make dogs five miles away put their paws to their ears. I likened it to a sort of infant Terettes Syndrome as it seemed to be as random as it was alarming. ‘Frightened the crap out of me on a few occasions anyway.
After Olympic I had only one more port of call in America before I crossed in to Canada; Seattle. I had one glorious day in this shimmering city by the sea and filled it with all the things I wanted to do. I caught the early morning ferry across from my friend of friend’s house in Bremerton and I knew it was going to be a good day because the crossing reminded me of the many crossings I have made to the Isle of Wight on similar transportation, and they were always good days. The Sun beat down on the decks of the boat and warmed my bones after a fresh start and then, Suzi and I rode straight to the hostel I had been lucky enough to get a space in, without getting lost in the myriad of one-way streets. All good but, it was about to get better;
I had already intended on visiting The Space Needle (which affords fantastic vistas of the city) and the combined Music and Science-Fiction museums to indulge myself in two of my favorite things (none of the three disappointed, by the way) but, I had longed to see a sporting
The Space Needle,
Taken by a Space Cadet! event in this country since my arrival and the information guide at the hostel gave me some news that made my day. I have been a fan of American Football since the early eighties but knew that the season didn’t start here for a couple of weeks so, had no chance of catching a game. Or so I thought. I nearly kissed the guy when he told me that Seattle's Seahawks were scheduled to play a pre-season friendly against Oakland's Raiders that very night in their new stadium, not more than fifteen blocks from where I was staying. It was my last night in The States and I got to fulfill one of my top American dreams. And they say the Irish are lucky!
Arriving early to ensure I got a ticket, I soaked up the pre-game atmosphere; All very similar to what you get outside every (proper) Football ground at home really; Thousands of people milling around talking match stats and player opinions, dodgy merchandise sellers pedling their wears for fans desperate to be wearing the teams colours in a show of early season allegiance and, of course, the universally accepted “take your life in your hands” fast
Kick Off at Qwest Field
Looks a bit like Chelsea- Funny looking goals though! food stands. Two hot dogs later and I took my seat.
I really enjoyed the game but, was a bit disappointed with the lack of crowd participation. Apart from the occasional chant of “C-Hawks, C-Hawks!” or “F*** the Raiders” from the odd individual, there wasn’t much in the way of organized or group support like there is at a REAL Football match (just threw in another one in there to see the reaction from my US buddies- love ya guys). I suppose this attitude can be forgiven, really, as a game does go on for over three hours and I know from extensive prior experience that you can shout yourself hoarse in the first forty-five of a ninety minute one- I’ve done it many a time (and that’s just watching on the TV)! And, in any case, the atmosphere is generated by other things too; The fireworks that welcome the teams on to the pitch, the singing of the National Anthem at the start of each game, the fact that you can buy beer and take it to your seat (not bloody fair, that one) and of course, most importantly, the cheerleaders. Ahhhh, the cheerleaders, bless their little hearts.
Tough Game
It's advisable to wear a helmet (check out the guy at the centre of the pic) They twist and turn and twiddle their pom-poms, and they dance and chant for nearly four hours. They must be so tired at the end of a night’s work- you just want to wrap one up and take them home with you and take care of them and…… Enough of that, what would I know about the cheerleaders, I was watching the game……… honest, I was!
It was an A-typical American experience, though, and I loved every minute of it. The game just seemed to round off and sum up my road trip of the western States; It was hard to understand at times and there was a multitude of things going on all around me constantly that made it hard to concentrate on why you were there but, I was impressed by the whole spectacle and I will always reserve a special place in my heart for the people there (especially the cheerleaders).
I left Seattle, Washington and The United states of America the next day. Fittingly, Suzi and I clocked up five thousand miles together on the way to the border and she was running as smoothly as she had done the day we left Tuscon.
Tickled Me!
Taken somewhere (without much of a history, obviously) on the way to Portland As I crossed in to Canada I thought back a few days to when I had visited Cape Flattery, the furthest northwest point on the mainland of the lower forty-eight States. You get a real sense of what it is to travel at these sort of places. A part of your journey is nearing its end but, another will soon be starting. The moment is tinged with sadness for the loss of what is now in the past but, it is also fringed with excitement at what is to follow in the future. Standing on the tip of the peninsula, I took some time to think about the journey that had brought me up and through this vast and varied land; Staring out at the Pacific, I wondered how I could sum up such an amazing experience and then I thought to myself; “You can’t, not in this blog anyway, its getting too long and people will have buggered off to watch the TV if you ramble on any longer...... I'll leave it 'til next time.”
So, an overview of America will be on your screens soon, I bet you can’t wait?
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Linda Lindsay
non-member comment
Made me laugh!
Another great report....made me laugh, especially about the screaming little girl....I think I could hear her.