A block of coal must be compressed to make a diamond. Sometimes a little suffering is needed for us to grow.

Bapiraju Surampudi

If I’m going to have a blog, then it’s only fair that I blog the bad as well as the good. So here I am confessing: Day 1 in Portland was not all that I imagined it would be.

To tell that story, let’s go 60 miles outside of Portland. There we find a tired-but-ready Kane driving along tired, but ready. It was then that I got a call from my friend Jane. “Where are you?” she asked.

“I am one hour from Portland!”

“Oooh! Are you getting excited?” she inquired, sounding excited enough for me.

I then told Jane my story of skydiving. During my 5 hour training class I was calm and relaxed. During the climb up in the tiny little plane all was well. When we hit 9,000 feet and started getting into position to jump I was cool as the proverbial cucumber. Then they opened the door. I’m not sure why, whether it was the sudden rush of wind into the plane or something else, but it was that moment where everything became real. When that door opened my heart started pumping and that was the first time I was forced to ask myself if I really wanted to jump out of a plane with a handkerchief on my back.

It’s been a long path and there wouldn’t be any single defining point. There should be no doubt that I was happy to finally be doing this, but I wasn’t excited. As I explained to Jane I was too tired, there was too much to do, and there would be no door-opening moment.

I was wrong.

Something happened when I entered Portland, and it wasn’t a good something. I panicked. I hate to admit it, and I’m not sure why, but I did. “WTF have I done?” I found myself questioning. I sold my house, I quit my job, I moved my ass up here and now what am I to do? For a moment my stomach was filled with butterflies. Then the butterflies blew up and began to rot within me, making me feel nauseated.

I’ve never been prone to panic. Mentally I was telling myself that I was overreacting as I made my way to my storage location in Beaverton just west of Portland. But understanding it in my mind and feeling it in my gut was not the same. Suddenly what’s felt so right for a year and a half was feeling not right at all. I don’t know. I really, really don’t know what happened, I just freaked.

I checked the trailer in at the Uhaul/storage location and set myself up with a 10×10′ unit (paying and extra $5/month for outside access). As I began unloading the truck nothing felt better. My mattress was to get moved early on so that it would be against the wall and out of the way. Moving a queen sized mattress by yourself is a fantastically comical experience in frustration and humility. It was not a good time.

I unpacked the truck in about 2 hours and headed off. Where to? I wasn’t sure. It was nice to be back in the Civic (though it felt amazingly low after driving that truck for 4 days) but I had no real destination. I was hungry and decided to driver around Beaverton in search of food or a hotel. I was not only feeling unsure of things, but I was getting pretty annoyed with myself for being a baby for no obvious reason. I can’t say this enough: no clue where all of this boohooiness came from.

I decided there was only one thing to do. Go back to where it all got started. So I gave Beaverton the finger and headed to downtown Portland. A quick drive later and I found myself in the urban land of wonder that I fell in love with four years ago. Things were getting better.

I asked the GPS where I can find food and followed it to a parking spot nearby. That’s where Erin entered the story. Dinner was at a local sandwich shop where I was the only customer, and Erin was the only employee. Erin was gracious enough to let me grill her about living down here in Portland. She told me where I don’t want to live, how much she paid for her apartment, where to buy groceries, and too many other factoids at my request. She was not only helpful, but friendly. She also fed me, so what more could I ask for?

The sandwich shop closes at 7:00, which was fast approaching. I was taking advantage of their internet to find a hotel and I had to hurry it up. Unable to find one quickly I turned to hotwire.com and blindly booked a room for 2 nights for more money than I should’ve spent. Hotwire doesn’t tell you where you’re booking until after you pay for it, and once payment was processed I found out I was staying at Hotel Fifty which Erin told me was a pretty nice place. I left Erin to close up shop and thanked her for being so helpful.

Heading off to find the hotel room I was fed and relaxed. Things were falling back into place. Then on the drive to the hotel I was stopped at a corner I was about to turn. “He’s cute” I heard a girl on the corner say. I looked in the direction of the voice and found her looking right at me, at which point she repeated to me “You’re cute.”

“Thanks,” I said, “you’re pretty cute yourself” I said, smiling as I drove away. How about that for a bonus?

Now I’m in my hotel room. It’s way too fancy for me; I’m definitely stealing the soap from this place. But I’m feeling good. Day 1 was not at all how I pictured it to be. But it’s bedtime now and Day 1 is over. I feel like an ass for even writing this post but I think it would be chicken shit of me to not admit it. Yeah, I panicked. But that’s done now. The cocky, smug, and oh-so-sexy prick that is Kane is still around, and tomorrow I’m gonna kick the shit out of Oregon.

One more to go

I made pretty short work of Idaho yesterday and was in Oregon with enough sunlight to get a picture of the “Welcome to Oregon” sign. Although was not without a story.

The sign seems to be posted at the very border of Oregon, so you blow right past it as you enter the state. The welcome center isn’t far past it, less than half a mile, but it doesn’t have a redundant sign. Needing a picture of the sign I parked in the welcome center, grabbed the tripod, and started walking.

As would be considered most appropriate, when I was several hundred feet from the sign the dark clouds overhead began to loose their grip on the moisture which made them so. Luckily for me the rain was slight though the lightning was putting on quite a show. As I set up my metal tripod I chuckled to myself at the thought of getting struck down by lighting at the very border of Oregon. I’m sure after the weeping was over, people would laugh about it for years.

But pictures were taken unscathed and I walked my way back to the welcome center. I drove up the road less than a mile to Ontario, Oregon and called it quits. Today should be the final day of the trip. I’ve got about 400 miles to go before I make it to Beaverton (where my storage unit will be) and hope to make it there by early afternoon. Then I unload the truck and find a hotel for the night.

Then tomorrow starts… tomorrow is the beginning of… well…

Love at first sight

Blogging took too long. The continental breakfast downstairs is no more. poop. Luckily there’s a restaurant within walking distance.

Do you see the sacrifice I make for you people?!!??!

New Mexico

I made short work of New Mexico. Not much to say for New Mexico other than the entire thing felt dumpy.

Arizona

On to Arizona!

I broke the Arizona border Saturday night around 9:20 pm. I then took roughly 400 pictures of me underneath that stupid sign but it was too dark and the sign was too reflective for me to be in it. But I’m there, I promise.

After settling down for a nap I decided I wasn’t ready to settle down for a nap. So I returned the truck to the road and kept heading west. It only took me an hour to decide that I was finally ready to call it quits and as soon as I found a rest stop I pulled over and ended Day 2. In the morning I woke up with a sore back from sleeping in the car (I crashed in the Civic, not the Uhaul) and realized I’m getting to old for rest stops. I logged 666 miles (ooooh, creepy!) Saturday. I’m a bit disappointed with such a devilishly low number but there’s no rush and no reason to stress.

By 5:50 am local time (7:50 central) I had peed, brushed my teeth and headed out. There wass breakfast available at the rest stop I slept at, but everything was closed. I then made my way to Flagstaff, AZ on a drive that was transformed from mundane to beautiful. As you approach the city the desert landscape gives way to the greenery of the mountains. As pine trees began to block my view of the horizon I noticed a slight smell entering the cabin. I opened the window and was welcomed by a blast of mountain-fresh air. It was like I just mopped the Uhaul with Pine-Sol.

After arriving in flagstaff I found my way to Denny’s for a pancake breakfast and a quick blog entry. I then walked to Holiday Inn, Ramada, Burger King, McDonalds and finally Motel 6 in an attempt to steal some wifi and post a blog. After breakfast I turned the truck towards the Grand Canyon.

Arizona is a beautiful state. It’s sharp mountain contrast fantastically with it’s many canyons. Driving through the state was like driving through postcard after postcard. I took several batches of pictures which I hope to make panoramics out of so that Ryan will keep liking me. When I do, if they come out good, I’ll share them with you guys.

Grand Canyon

Taa daa!

The Grand Canyon is one of those things you just have to see for yourself. Pictures can’t do it justice; nor can words. Never in my life have I seen some so massive that my brain needed a moment to adjust to it. It was literally breathtaking (especially when you crawl towards to the edge of cliff).

The funny thing about it, is that it’s just a big ass hole. Once you gaze upon it’s humongosity ^!! you’ve seen it. You can walk around to different spots and keep looking, but all you’re doing is looking at more cliffs. I would have expected that I would have gone there, stared for 10 minutes, then drove away. But the Canyon, in it’s awesomeness, demands more attention. I spent hours staring at this great scar on the Earth. Walking around and being amazed each time I examined it from a new angle. One day I would like to return and spend more time there. Take the bus tours. Maybe even walk the entire perimeter. I’ve heard there are tours that go to the Canyon floor; next time that will be a must.

The Canyon makes you feel small. Really small. It is as if the Earth is showing you a scar to provide you with a scale of how colossal and aged it is, and in doing so humbles your humanity.

Utah

Arizona was a beautiful drive that I think everyone should go on once in there life. Utah however needs to learn that you never get a second chance to make a first impression. The first thing I noticed when I crossed into Utah was that there was no welcome center and, worse yet, there was no “Welcome to Utah” sign. Thus my plans of having me in front of each state sign were destroyed. For this alone I want to give a very deep and very sincere “fuck you” to whomever it is that would be responsible for such things. I hope today as he/she is walking to lunch a billboard comes loose and falls upon your head and the final thought in your tiny brain is “I should never have angered the signs.”

There was a second annoyance provided by the great state of Utah upon entering it: the roads. In the Uhaul you feel every bump and Utah gave me something to feel. The roads are filled with tar band-aids and it makes for a horrendous ride. I found myself hating Utah more & more every mile.

The entire trip from the Grand Canyon up to Beaver, Utah was made devoid of cell phone service. As I approached Beaver my phone started making a racket as it likes to do and I found that during my day I had missed 5 text messages and a couple of voice mails. By then it was too late for replies, that would be for the morning.

The pool

Upon arriving in Beaver I decided to call it a night. Rest stop be damned I decided I wanted a hotel. I was tired and I really wanted to shower. Quality Inn answered the call. When I checked in there was a note on the receipt asking patrons not to use towels from their room when going to the pool, as towels are provided in the pool room. A pool. Hmm.

I glanced at the pool on the way to my room. It was quiet and empty. “You know what, I’m going swimming god damnit!” I decided. I went to my room, dropped off my gear, changed and returned to the pool. The empty pool had attracted 3 other guests in that short period of time. I then did something that I never once did in my 14 years living in the state of Texas. Into the pool I went.

Swimming is like riding a bike in that you never forget. Swimming is not like a bike in that there is no equipment to force your form. I swam from one end to the other in what must have looked like a sea lion rushing for shore after having one of it ’s fins bitten off from a shark. I was not a sexy swimmer.

After embarrassing myself for a while in the pool I crossed over into the hot tub which was significantly hotter. One of the ladies there joined me and we chatted for a while about Texas, Los Angeles, Colorado, and Oregon. After she left I relaxed in the hot tub for a while then jumped back into the (now freezing) pool for a couple final laps.

If I wasn’t tired enough before hand the pool did the trick. I returned to my room to shower and shave, both of which felt wonderful. It took me 0.3 seconds to fall asleep.

Now I’m awake, though I’m sure I could return to the land of slumber for another few hours. Once I get to Portland and unload the truck, there will be a couple of very lazy days for me. For now though, the time is a-ticking and I’ve got gasoline to burn. Besides, there is a free breakfast downstairs calling my name.

Another day, another step closer to… umm…. well to whatever it is I’ll be doing whenever I get to wherever I’m going.