The change in climate was as obvious as the one in culture. Although the weather was as nice and sunny as it had been on Iceland, it was significantly warmer, and even though similar prices, the vast amount of people, places and products was overwhelming. After a quick stop in Seattle, including a hop-on-hop-off bus tour, we set off to Portland.

But not toooo weird, right?

We flew in to Seattle, arrived two hours later than planned, grabbed the tram to the city, and checked in at the hostel, right next to Pike Place. Unfortunately, it was a top bunk in a small dorm, rather than a private room, but it still worked.

We know we would return and focused on getting to Portland reasonably early. Hence, a hop-on-hop-off tour (with just one off bit), a quick lunch by said Place, and a quick photo stop at the icky chewing gum alley was all we ticked that day, for soon enough it was time to join the group in Portland.

First day of the tour offered a sample of what the weird city is famous for: Hipsters, roses, bikes and beer. A small group of intrepid travellers (just five of us, plus the tour guide) gathered for further transport to the bike tour starting point. I was a little bit disappointed that they weren’t fixies, but they were nice enough bikes, and we plinged and pedalled away.

The main goal for the day was to sample the local food trucks (and, perchance a craft beer or two, for those so inclined). Nevertheless, the city being sometimes referred to as the City of Roses, our first stop was a cosy little rose garden in a nice (but not posh by any means) neighbourhood.

Neither the food, nor the beer failed to deliver. Especially the brisket taco got high grades from the NOR/EST/FRA/NED/CAN/SWE jury.

Full in belly, we rolled back for some rest and regrouping, before we hit the Portland music scenes.

The first few places didn’t actually provide any live acts, but the last one did, and a joyfully decorated bar to boot.

The bands showed potential, and the bar, a former wardrobe, was decorated all in neon and aliens, with the barkeep’s hair to match*.

Bend it like Oregon

We were off bright and early (though not nearly as early as we had been in Iceland) towards Bend. Barely had we left Portland though, until we made a stop at a…. Waterfall! Yay!

The Multnomah waterfall was decent enough, as were its surroundings. The main advantage, though, was the steep climb, to where one not only had some stunning views of the tall, thin waterfall, but also of the mighty Columbia River in the other direction.

Before reaching our goal for the day, we stopped and met a wonderful couple, Brigette and John, in the small town of Warm Springs. John is a fisherman, and has learnt his trade from his family, going back for generations. Brigette, amongst a tonne of other skills on her CV, is an expert smoker, learning that trade from her family, going back for generations. Not only does she smoke the best salmon west of Greenwich, she is also an often re-elected law-giver, an anthropologist and a writer. We all hope that she finishes her book and get it published, because while there is plenty of studies and literature documenting the lives and hardships of the first peoples, too rarely are the stories told from one of their own.

Oregon is certainly beer country, and as such, both our evenings we dined at a different local craft brewery, as well as partook in some samples of their products. In fact, whilst perusing the different clothes and gear boutiques in search of a hat**, I was offered a free sample of a local hazy IPA. I’m not one to say no to free beer, so I graciously accepted, unaware that that would prove to be the first of a long string of freebeers to come.

Palindrome

Although Bend, with its picturesque river and comparatively cosy downtown is a nice enough place on its own, the majority of its visitors use it as a base to go hiking, swimming, fishing or, as we did, kayaking.

Paulina Lake is one of many crater lakes in the area, and that’s where we embarked on our open faced kayaks. The blue sky, the even bluer lake, the green forests and the jet black obsidian volcano made gliding across the calm waters an extraordinary activity.

At the other side of the lake, there was a surprise. Seeing as the area still is volcanic (though not extremely active), there is nevertheless some thermal activity underground, and as such, the groundwater has temperature ranging from warm to hot. Therefore, one would dig holes in the beach, holes that would quickly fill up with hot water in which to soak feet, butt or more, depending on how deep one can be arsed to dig. Too hot? No worries, just dig a little ditch and let the cool lake water trickle in to adjust to anyone’s preference.

Another brewery, another street food and off to Medford.

On the way there, one can’t, or at least shouldn’t, miss Crater Lake. Atop the Cascade Mountain Range, Mt. Mazama erupted 7,700 years ago, the mountain collapsed and created a nearly 600 metres deep crater. Filled with water, the blue skies above gave it a deep blue hue, so the first western discoverers gave it the imaginative name “Big Blue Lake”.

Promptly forgotten, or at least its exact location, the lake had to be discovered again, this time being given the even less inspired name “Blue Lake”. The third time it was re-discovered, it was referred to as a crater lake by a reporter, and was taken as its name.

The trek down was super easy***, skipping down in a merry dance with the local chipmunk population. Nevertheless, the weather was warm and the lake water was as clear as the one in Silfra. Shortly after reaching the shore after a 200 metre descent, I was in the water. It was only after I had gotten out, changed back and laced my boots that I realised there was a perfect jumping cliff just a few steps away. Not one to give such an opportunity a miss, I quickly redressed and got another plunge in.

Trekking up was more strenuous, but with strategically spaced photo stops it is a pleasant ascent. Driving around the crater rim, with even more kodak stops, we were ready to leave the lake, with its Wizard Island and Ghost Ship, and finally head on to Medford.

Caroline’s Corner

We were so lucky to have clear skies over Greenland. Icebergs galore, high mountains, steep valleys and so many beautiful icescapes. Yes, icescapes as it is more ice than land. Not landscape, icescapes. My poor partner in crime was not able to get his plane nap as I ever so often poked at him and made him look at yet another cool iceberg. Somehow he did not appreciate it as much as I presumed he would. Ah well, he did agree that Greenland is definitely on our must visit list.

Seattle

A name filled with so much sentiments. It’s the place where amazing music came forth. The birthplace of the music which pretty much helped define my generation. Also a place very much associated with a friend from my high-school years in Holland. He moved from Seattle back to Holland about the same time my family moved there, so we did share homeroom a few years. A good kid with a broad Seattle brawl who unfortunately died way to early a few years back. Dead but not forgotten.

So when in Seattle one must drink a beer for Leon Stam. Hope you are straddling a cloud, listening to good music, drinking beer and telling big, loud and funny stories and enjoying the afterlife to the max. Cheers mate, you were a good kid.

On that note, Seattle is a big, loud, funny and also very sad place. All at the same time. Where else can one find a tunnel (alleyway) filled with used, chewed (brrr) gum on the walls, roof and on the cobble stones? Yeah, in Seattle. And it is a big tourist attraction. The gum alley is a big thing here. The city officials did try to sanitise the place a few years back but the gum is back. All that work in vain. Honestly, I found it very, very nauseating and off putting. But hey everybody is different and some actually like it.

As we only had a very short time this part of the tour and as we knew that we would be back we did the easy hop on hop off. The hop on hop off turned out to be money well worth spent. The breaks omitted a sound rather like a novelty car horn. They did work properly (as the driver assured us before we even could mention the funny honking sounds from the horns ….). But we got to see the city and apperently also Curt Cobains last home. I say apperently because I could not see it.

It was also a good way to safely see the city as the amount of homeless, addicted old and young were frighteningly many. But not as many as in Portland. Many of these individuals appeared to suffer from a vast amount of psychiatric diseases and syndroms as well. It is not a good way of caring for your sick and poor by leaving them out in the streets.

Portland

Flixbus to Portland was an OK experience. The WiFi was bust but the view interesting and sad. So much trash found on, around and near the highways. Not very environnementally good. Also many homeless living in tents, under tarps or under a tree next to the highway. So much misery and despair. So many sleeping rough and only a few have actual tents. I saw many former sleeping places where there had been fires. So much tragedy.

Having a mental disorder or being poor or an addict is very risky in the land of the free. You end up on the streets. Portland city center was not the most uplifting experience. Dirty, smelly and so many drugged out zombiefied human beings meeting you on arrival. The walk to the hotell was heavy in many ways.

But on a happier note, as soon as we arrived at out dogfriendly hotel (yay pinapple hotels) we ran in to our new tourleader Mike. Him, fresh as an Portland rose, us, sweaty, smelly, hungry. But we soon started to chat away and he told us that giving money to the homeless only increased the risk of violence. Both towards the recipient of the money and to the giver of said money. Desperation and abstinence can be the base for violence. But if one wants to help one should find an organisation or a local charity to support. Our guide Mike has a foundation geared at helping homeless youth in San Francisco.

Early morning our guide finally met us as we stepped out of the dog friendly hotel (mentioned it before? Naaah!). At that moment we were as fresh as roses. And why do I mention roses all the time? Portland is famed for its roses and its rose gardens. We went to a local guide company for a guided bike ride through the west part of Portland. Ride a bike, eat and drink local brews and specialities. Nothing bad with that. Our local guide was as local as you could get. He was born, bred and brought up in the hood we visited. We rode away on our bikes easily identified by the name on the bike. My bike was called Cottonville. And was in perfect condition througout the ride (I had my Sri Lanka bike experience/breakdowns fresh in mind ). The dog Bear was very cuddly and we had a good scratching session going on for a while.

The best smoked brisket taco, excellent savoury dougnuts and lots and lots of other tasty foodstuffs and beer. I was full, stuffed and superhappy. But I could not walk, nor ride one more step or roll. So rest and digest the food. When we, like snakes , had digested the food we were up for new experiences again.

We started off by going to a former movie house turned into reagge haven. Two guys with my kind of paleness DJ:d and it turned out to be pretty good. The rest of our gang went home but our tour guide wanted to listen to music so we trotted of with him. The evening was filled with really good music from really promising young artists. Mike told us that a lot of music in Portland is about looking the part, not the musical ability nor the passion but the look. Fortunately the club we visited was one of the few places where the passion and the ability triumphed over the look. We had the artsy young crowd so I guess the clubkids thought that we were parents checking out their little darlings on stage. I wish we could have passed for talent scouts but alas our outfits were more travel than cool rock chique/music scout.

Early but not as early as in Iceland we trotted of to Bend, via a waterfall, and a coffeebreak. And to my great surprise my darling partner in crime had recovered from his WFF (waterfall fatigue) and trotted along .

He even trotted further then yours truly. Almost all the way to the top. Well not really but further up than his wife. The coffebreak is important because I got a good iced coffee, some water and left my cool watercanister on a bench. I guess it is still there. But later on in Aberdeen I could buy a new one and put some cool stickers on it. Stickers are the new thing, apperently. And as we are sockets for new things we started the stickers chase.

We had a long drive to Bend but to the collective joy of us all we stopped on the way to meet an amazing lady and her equally amazing husband. Brigette McConville and John. Brigette is an avid spokeswomen for the native people of the region. She is a scholar and a very wise person. She carries and cherishes the traditions of her ancestors. The stories she told us were amazing. One day her stories will be published and then I’ll be one of the first in line to buy the physical book. You can find her and ger husband at their business. Web adress is www.salmonkingfisheries.com Do check ger out and do visit her shop if you are somewhere in the neigbourhood.

Bend is not a place you visit to see the town. You visit it to se the national parks around Bend. We did paddle kayaks on a crater lake and warm our bottoms in the vulcanoheated warm spring water next to the lake. The obsidian caught the sun and the surrounding hills locked like they were a five year old kid who had broken jn to the glitter locker at school…Very cool.

This was one of the few times I went into the water for a swim. It was cold but not as cold as the next craterlake we visited. After huffin’and puffin’ down a very steep walkway (1,7 km and 240 m elevation difference) some of us proved that they have glycol instead of blood in their veins. Me, I consist of mostly coffee so I stayed dry. But I really got to enjoy my Christmas gift from my partner in crime; my hiking sticks. Awesome and so very useful.

We got to see and hear about the national park rangers work against forrest fires. Apperently they use the techniques employed by the original Australian natives. Controlled bushfire to remove dry organic matter or just clean ut the debris and put them in not small, not large piles to be burned off at a later time. A good way to keep the forests healthy and encourage growth of plants needing heat to germinate.

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*) neon-wise, that is, not alienwise

**) I often buy a new hat on my journeys, especially if the previously bought has been stolen or misplaced since

***) barely an inconvenience

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