Browsed by
Category: travel

Big Again

Big Again

Comments 0 Comment

I have a habit of not wanting to leave the places I’m visiting, and yesterday I almost didn’t. Confusion about departure times meant we missed our original return flight. Luckily, we were re-routed to another airport and finally made it home — though six hours later than planned. 

The first hours and days back after a trip are always a strange time. Life is mostly as it was but with subtle differences. The old house touches my heart with its creaky floors and familiarity. I don’t have to wonder when I wake up, where am I now? I can tell by the placement of lamp and beside table, by the feel of the covers under my chin. 

But the trip has altered the house and the gaze with which I see it. The roses in Portland are part of me now, the walk around Lake Union in Seattle, too. The Japanese Garden and the Japanese American Museum, Cherry Street and Alberta Street — they’re all in there. The crusty bread and the little dogs. 

It has been almost a year with no travel. The world of house and yard were closing in on me. But now … the world is big again. 

Sum of the Parts

Sum of the Parts

Comments 0 Comment

Whenever I travel I face the same dilemma, and it’s a delightful one. There’s the exploratory part of the process — finding new trails to walk, new museums to explore, new food to eat. And then there’s the hanging out aspect of it all.  The dilemma is how to create a perfect blend of the two.

This trip has done it effortlessly due to the wonderful family we have in Seattle and Portland. We’ve had lovely at-home dinners, long mornings chatting over mugs of tea, and one big raucous birthday party. And that doesn’t include the boat ride and trips to favorite local watering holes. 

The sum of these parts is even greater than its whole — respite for body, mind and soul. And then … there are the roses!

A Walker on the River

A Walker on the River

Comments 0 Comment

After days pounding asphalt and concrete, we had the luxury of a few hours on the water, where legs are for the most part irrelevant. We left the floating home mid-afternoon for a slow cruise on the Multnomah Channel, a tributary of the Willamette.  

How calm it all was, how evenly the ripples flowed from our wake. 

We cruised under the Sauvie Island Bridge, passed sailboats and motorboats and a contraption that looked like an elliptical on water. There was an osprey nest off our starboard side and an abandoned restaurant farther down. Mostly there was sun and stillness and companionship. When we landed, the light was golden.

Eye Candy

Eye Candy

Comments 0 Comment

Walking through an Eastside Portland neighborhood yesterday, I saw roses and rhododendron, lavender and wisteria, poppies and fuchsia. I saw tall fir trees tipped with new green growth. 

I didn’t actually dig into the soil, but from the profusion of bloom, it appears that most anything will grow here except maybe cactus. I’m not much of a gardener, but with inspiration like this I think I could become more of one. What struck me as I strolled was the pleasure these flowers bring to the eye. Looking at them felt elemental, as if I was taking sustenance from the stems, leaves and blossoms. 

Waterfront Walk

Waterfront Walk

Comments 0 Comment

The Seattle waterfront is a boisterous place. You can almost imagine early settlers here, lumberjacks and Gold Rush guys — such is the energy of the ferries and buskers and tourists and water taxis. 

There was a pier you could walk on to be more at one with the water and the waves. The guy sitting at the end of it yelled down to me. “How big do you think that fishing boat is? I think about 40, 50 feet,” he said. I said yes, having absolutely no reason to disagree with him. 

I wanted to move beyond all of this, though, to a place where water met land. So I kept walking north, toward Alaska (as the sign said), to the Olympic Sculpture Garden and a little cove where driftwood and drifters gathered. I could have walked all day, but I had a train to catch. 

Path Not Taken

Path Not Taken

Comments 0 Comment

No long hikes yesterday, but several walks around the neighborhood. I explored the Cathedral of St. James, a local bookstore, the leafy streets around this hotel and a college campus with green paths and rhododendrons tall as trees. 

It’s hard to say which kind of day I like better, the long-hike ones or the short-foray ones. The first is the sweeping overview, the second a drilling down, an immersion in the particular, like finding a good cafe for take-out hot tea that is not Starbucks.

The kind of day I had yesterday makes me think about what it would be like to live here, to be part of the rhythms and moods of this place. It’s something I do whenever I travel, a creative exercise, pondering the path not taken.

Lake Union Walk

Lake Union Walk

Comments 0 Comment

Lake Union is a freshwater lake contained entirely within the city limits of Seattle. It’s a port, a neighborhood and a playground — and we walked all the way around it yesterday.

We trekked from Westlake to Eastlake, from the Center for Wooden Boats to Gas Works Park. We crossed the Fremont Bridge and the University Bridge. We sometimes wandered off course, but always found our way back again.

The trail was a visual feast, with skyline city views, en plein air artists capturing the gas works in watercolor, boats stacked on boats, floating homes tucked away in private coves, roses blooming in pocket-handkerchief-sized gardens, even a goose and goslings. 

Yes, the feet are a little sore this morning, but what a way to see the city!

The Views

The Views

Comments 0 Comment

A long walk, a steep climb, and then, at the top …  a reward — the city spread out below: Lake Union to the left, downtown straight ahead and the Space Needle to the right. 

Lovely views have benefits beyond their beauty. They orient us to a place, show us how the pieces fit together. They bind the parts into the whole.  

Later, on the downhill return trip, when the way forward seemed crooked and confusing, I thought about the order revealed at the summit. That — and the map! — got us home.

Bluest Skies

Bluest Skies

Comments 0 Comment

My house does the funniest thing when it knows it’s about to be left behind for a few days. It takes on a rosy glow that makes it hard for me to leave. It’s done this for years now, long enough that I’m wise to its wiles. The only way around this is to put myself on auto-pilot, to clean, gather and pack, so that when the taxi arrives, I can walk out the door knowing the house and dog are taken care and we can escape.

This time, it’s to Seattle, just minutes away from Celia and Matt’s place. The city rolled out the red carpet over the weekend, giving us “the bluest skies you’ll ever see” — which, unlike in this spoof of the old song, really were cloudless and azure.

Today it’s a return to the more typical gray firmament— but the city beckons as it always does, with its lush foliage, bustling market and funky vibe that is such a welcome contrast to the button-down culture of the “other Washington,” the one I left just two days ago.

A Trip West

A Trip West

Comments 0 Comment

It’s a big country, a fact I learned from the back seat of a station wagon when I was a kid. To land somewhere exciting, you packed your things, climbed into the car and watched the miles tick away. Only 45 more till Joplin, 62 more till Tucumcari and, after what seemed like an eternity but was only four days, we reached San Bernardino, California. 

 The fact that we’d driven there didn’t make it any less exotic. In fact, I always marveled that by simply sticking with it — by putting in the miles, so to speak — we could make our way to a completely new place with orange groves and movie stars and the big blue Pacific lapping at the land. 

How different it will be tomorrow, when we wake up, taxi to Dulles and fly to the other side of the country — not just the horizontal other but the diagonal other, the Pacific Northwest — in all of five hours.

It will be none the less exotic for us having arrived there on a big silver bird. There will be dark firs and steep hills and that same big blue Pacific. But the amazement I feel being on the other side of the country will harken back to those early trips, to those interminable but (come to find out) essential drives through dessert and plain. They taught me a lesson I’ll never forget.