Hot water, Humongous Trees & San Fantastic-isco

It took me a while to write this…it seems holidays are harder to report as one is far too busy being on holiday than one would be in a working, “serious” environment. I have begun several attempts but then I have fallen asleep in the Irish sun or been called to other frivolities or been summoned by the presence of a still guitar, beckoning me to play it. “You can do this later, Mary, later, later.” It is getting onto almost a month of “laters” as doing nothing slowly seems to breed doing nothing even slower and for now I am trying to revel in it. We all exist in many modes, I am very good at existing in that of presto and now I am floating in adagio and yes, it is working.

So I left Hood River. Willing and unwillingly I was driven away to the promise of more beautiful things but my heart felt as if it was slowly breaking, leaving a place before I was ready, while my heart was still firmly rooted in the people I had met and come to love in this beautiful American town.

And I was tired. I was tired for living the life I had lived for 5 months, rushing, waking up early, meeting, greeting, making money, trying to make more money, making plans, snowboarding and hiding from the cold. So I slept. On a road trip to some delicious hot springs I was allowed to sleep while my companion drove me to paradise. There we found a forest, some mountains and some hot springs. Magic pools, filled with magnificently bright coloured water, we found a little place to camp and eat and spent two days soaking in this magnificent paradise. I am not very good at soaking being my only activity but for then, that was good, good for me to soak and to digest the last part of my life. We made some glorious food, and for the first time we felt spring, I was barefoot and I had shorts on my glowing white legs. And the following day I lay in the hot springs enjoying the sun on my body while I suddenly realized that snow was falling. The term “monkey’s wedding” seems foreign to Americans (when it is sunny and rainy at the same time) and I have continually asked whose wedding it is when it snows and is sunny at the same time? I have decided it is the wedding of the elk, the snow falling with the sun streaming on it is a regal scene, some great powerful animal is getting married for powerful thing is happening.

We continued on our journey down the coast into California and the redwoods. I love trees, I have always loved trees. But to be in the presence and to love a tree when you are standing next to something great as the Redwoods is something else. It was as if all my strength or stature I have ever felt was diminished, I had become tiny and these majestic trees let me feel my sweet insignificance. I felt like a pixie, playing on the trees, walking along them, on them, touching them, feeling the power of age, of life.

I met up with another friend in Coos Bay named Sonja and we headed down to the fabulous city of San Francisco. I had booked a flight out of San Francisco for the express purpose of forcing myself to go there as I had heard it was comparable to my dear city of Cape Town. My intention was clear, I wanted to go there and say, “Sure it’s cool but you should see Cape Town.” But well. I was more than astounded at the magnificent beauty and freedom this city offers. It is a bicycling city, bikes are taken on the train, there are nice bike routes and bike lanes and cars take care to stop for bikes and you cycle along like the king of the road, king of the city (Ok, one of many, many kings).

We stayed in the old Spanish district called the Mission which is littered with fabulous Hispanic murals and “trendy” people. It’s a city of course so everyone chooses their subculture and sticks in it but it’s also a place where everything goes. The gay district (Castro) is very fun to watch all the outfits there and one feels that in San Francisco life is easy forever. We were taken through the city, over the golden gate bridge to, ah, some other place by the water, over bicycle routes all the way, forests and ocean, water and trees, prettiness, and more prettiness, like Cape Town, you are in a city but there is enough beauty around for you to breath, to be, to feel on top of the world and within and without it all. We took the ferry back to the Mission(yes you can take your bicycle on the ferry) and tired out, we passed out, a little tanned and joyful with the day.

Maciek (our fabulous host) told us that sunny Sundays was the day for Dolores Park and so, armed with cheese, bread and wine we went to the Sunday hub of the city. People were protesting on one side of the park against the war (although everyone in San Francisco agrees so everyone just got riled up together) and the other side of the park there were people simply picnicking it up. People dressed in funny costumes for birthday parties, people practicing poi (fire spinning) and a whole bunch of people had set up a slack line. So I made friends with the slack line guys and I tried to learn how to walk across it with some success. Some of them did this every week and were learning to dance across it, juggle and spin balls. An Australian who was very good at juggling on the slack line invited me to go climbing with him that evening and so, very sunburnt and tired, I scaled some walls then went home to another fabulous supper and a comfy couch.

The next day I ambled alone as people had things like work to attend to and I went to visit the mother of a couchsurfer I once met in Cape Town. He promised me fabulous things about his mother and I wasn’t disappointed. Immediately she made me a heavenly sandwich for lunch with some tea and took me on a bike ride around the Berkley Marina. She must be in her 70s but she doesn’t own a car and cycling is her only mode of transport, to shop, to visit people and go to her ballet lessons. Fabulous, I enjoyed her spirit greatly and then returned to dear San Francisco to have dinner with my new Australian friend. The next day passed with lots of admin-y stuff, a lovely sunset walk and view of the magnificent city, some Mexican food (cheap cheap yum Mexican food) and I flew off, away from San Francisco, the Redwoods, Mexican Food, Hood River, Snowboarding to the green green green fields full of cows and sheep that is this ridiculous country of Ireland.

Straddling Seattle, baddest Bachelor and faring well

The last couple of days was a weird sort of torture, i had lost all zest for being a liftie and i tried some final doubles to push through the end of work and subsequently my 3 months holiday. Looking back at it, 2 weeks later, it was the doubles that were making me crazy and I could do it again now but then it was only a strange sort of delirious mood that pushed me through right to the end. So

It was time to explore.

On my last day of work, myself and 4 friends jumped into two cars and made our way to Seattle. (So close to Canada, i wanted to just hop into canada at a whim -oh terrible visas, why do you keep me from crossing joined land?)

Ah Crystal mountain. steep steep mountain. Only when i got there did i realize how gentle dear Mount Hood was. The powder was deep, the back bowl was exquisite, we hiked further up and got new lines. Magic.

The next day we found our way to that of Stephen's Pass (ski exchange again is heavenly- we saved a good $63 and $79 - there are definite perks to our minimum wage). While Crystal had been misty and overcast, Stephen's pass rolled up clear and sunny. How can i really describe what some days are on a mountain with a sliding vehicle under your feet? We were exstatic, riding in a hoody we hiked further up the mountain in the sunlight, At the top we threw off our top gear and relished in the sunlight. A ski patroller walked up at that point to see 5 topless people on top of the mountain revelling in the magic around them, he smiled and said "well now i've seen everything" as he conceded to take our photo and then take his own personal photo to show off to other people during his day. It was St Patrick's day, i called a St Patrick's day greeting to some lift attendents having a Braai on a balcony and I think they thought I was Irish with all the crazy hand gestures I saw behind me as i descended off the lift.

So yes, St Patrick's day was upon us and i got excited about dancing in green and soaking in general revelry in Seattle. I wore my green jeans and pigtails, wrapped some green ribbon around a friend's beard and we headed to some promising looking street. Well the first place (Named the Dubliner like my dear Cape Town Irish bar) asked us for 6 dollars to enter which we pronounced as ludicrous and continued to another bar who requested an unholy 8 dollars and on our third strike they laid down a whopping request of 12 dollars. Somewhat totally dissatisfied we decided to find the gasworks park of seattle which overlooked the water, buy a box of wine and dance to some Irish music which my green ribbon bearded friend had on his phone.

so we bought the wine, tried some unsuccesful dumpster diving outside a bakery and sang merrily alng the way to the gasworks park, looking at the space needle, Seattle's symbol which i recognised from Frasier and on the left across the water my friend pointed out the house where the guy in "Sleepless in Seattle" "lived" and we were actually in the park where the "10 things I hate about you" paintball fight was. This is all irrelevant information to anyone who has not watched these shows but honestly (and i suppose this is somewhat embarassing) when i thougth about Seattle i knew it was rainy and that Frasier lived here and i was pleased to find out that one of my favourite movies "Ten things I hate about you" was filmed there. Also i saw the famous troll which the characters climbed on on some date that they had had. I am supposed to care about the troll for the troll's sake, and it is cool, but when i went back to Hood River and watched the movie again I was more exicted that the troll was in the movie than merely that it exists. It is strange how movies really do skewer our perceptions of things.

So Jay (my green bearded friend but not green bearded anymore) bought a monkey (not a real one alas) and we took the monkey around Seattle the next day and took pictures of it with various items which amused us all greatly. Later when we arrived at this rad farmers market with the name of Pike Place market centre in the city and we met Miss Teen Washington and Miss Washington herself we were further pleased to hand the monkey to both of them and take photos with ourselves, the monkey and the beauty queens. They were pelased with my accent and I was pleased they held the monkey and quite simply, it was a pleasure all round. Another interesting thing that was happening at this market at the time (the real reason why both Miss Washington's presence was there) is that this market was welcoming their famed Rachel the metallic piggy bank back from her absence. Rachel had been brutally injured in a road accident and now she was fixed and was being restored to her orginal station at the market. It was all very exciting and Rachel the giant piggy bank made alot of money as people scurried to put money in her money slot so that they could be in full view of all the media and the important people (like the Miss Washington's and ourselves) who were around. I enjoyed the hullabaloo and for a second indulged in the possibility of making a mettalic piggy bank suite so i could reap the benefits of Rachel's return but i suppose the Mary fund may not be as important as the fund that Rachel's benvolence goes to (though it should be).

SO the party continued ... I returned to Hood River, thanked my friends for their merriness all round and a day later was off, back to Bend for another heavenly trip to Bend, and Bachelor mountain. Now the first time I got to ride Bachelor i was so excited and amazed by the amount of snow inbetween the trees and all the frolicking to be had. But the second time in Bachelor, was literally the one of the most beauitful experiences of my snowbaording lifetime so far. We rode for 2 days, with the first day being vaguely dismal. Visibility was near none, at the top of every chair the first few minutes was a somewhat blind experience where i simply hoped i was not going to fall down some sort of steep cliff because there was no way from telling bettween cliff, flat snow or tree. We did not ride for long and when we went home (well, to the place we were staying) we were pleased to be there.

But the next day, 9and i am sorry to harp on about snowboarding so much but i mean it this time) was probably the maddest baddest truly, raddest riding day of my life. Bachelor (as said previously) is a mountain that is known for a somewhat snobby management and somewhat snobby clientale. Thus, many lifts are closed on days when they don't need to be closed as the mountain does not care to keep lifts running when there are not enough people riding the mountain to make it worth their while. Furthermore, they have this chairlift called the Summit. As one can imagine this chairlift takes you to literally the top of this awesome mountain and if you have further energy one can hike to the very very summit of the summit (about 10 minute walk from the top of the chairlift) and ski over the backside to the lowest part of the mountain. I have never seen or indulged in such beauty, simply, all to myself. It was sunny, it was clear, the summit chairlift for once was open and the mountain was free to those who cared to hike a little and find the fresh lines and gorgeous trees on the other side. I cannot even begin to describe the feeling i had riding in this place, with barely anyone around, the trees, the snow, the far off mountains, the colours of pure madness. but i know it's moments like this which attach themselves to my mind, where i will always come back to these adventures under my feet, in my dreams, in my reality- the peace of real flight.

We left Bend, and i navigated my final week in Hood River. Goodbyes and goodbyes and "Oh i thought you were gone" and "Oh i heard you were leaving" and "What. aren't you working tomorrow?" and lots of confusion and some people being sad and other people who i just didn't want to be sad around and oh. goodbyes. And i snowboarded and finally got my 180 jump down, rode it out YES (yes i should have done this ages ago but i can be very ungutsy when i know the fall can bring grave injury). Went on a rafting trip (cold, early Spring water) jumped in the Hood River itself (FINALLY), had a vaguely raucous farewell party and started smelling and seeing the unfolding of Spring all around me.

"Ah," they told me, "the Winter may be great but you have not seen anything if you have not seen Hood River in summer, why can't you stay? What? What does Visa mean? you mean you can't stay here forever?" They didn't understand and i didn't either, it is hard to leave a place before you are truly ready

Some somewhat sad and maybe a touch tearful goodbyes later i jumped in a car away from Hood River to continue another pretty trip of more beautiful things, my heart gently breaking and simultaneoulsy excited for what is more to come.