Oregon!

June 28, Ashland, Oregon.

Finally, out of the hell of the central California valleys and into the cool of Oregon.
Beautiful Oregon. In so many years in this country this is a state I've always wanted to visit and never did. This is a place that's always made me dream - of gentler ways, natural wonders and greener pastures.
The valley where Ashland sits reminds me of a valley near Grenoble, in the French Alps, not far from where my mother lives. There is a softness to it. It goes at an inviting pace, everything seems tranquil and cool. This is also a place where traffic instantly comes to a halt the minute you even look like you want to cross the street with a stroller (rarely happened that a car slowed down, let alone stopped since we started the season back in Texas,) and a woman with a big smile waves you on. There are more than one house with flowers growing wildly, wonderfully on the sidewalk. This is a place where drivers go 25 or 30, as they're supposed to, on a long, straight street that happens to go through residential neighborhoods. People actually walk on these streets, and there is a cyclists' and walkers' trail that winds through town, reminding me of another French Alps place, Annecy, where many a summer I rode similar trails with my cousin Florence or my Mom, on visits to my aunt's house.
The circus is parked at the ScienceWorks Hands-on Museum (with a light bulb instead of the "o".) Next door is the Fish and Wildlife National Forensics Laboratory. I'd listened to a story on the radio a little while ago about just such a lab, and marveled at the idea of their work. This is the part where I miss my old photojournalist job, where I could be very well be sent there on assignment, going where other people (ie, me, now) never get to go.

Another long trip to get here, 160 miles of interstate 5, an up-and-down ride that in the end did what even the infamous Big Bear descent didn't manage to do, burnt my front brakes. The last stretch of downhill did it, and there were sparks from metal grinding against metal flying from my right tire upon entering Ashland.
Again we drove at night - and hence went through one of the most beautiful areas of the country blindfolded, only the constant dry-heat lightnings illuminating the crests around us, giving us split-second black-and-white glimpses. The Shasta-Trinity National Forest, the Klamath National Forest, the Cascade-Siskiyou (love the sound of that name, Siskiyou) National Mountain, all dark fantoms around us. Roy decided to have us drive at night because he feared it was going to be too hot to set up the tent in the afternoon should we have made the trip in the morning, as was planned. What a pity. It's not even hot, the sun wonderfully mild through the occasional cloud, light breezes.
I look at the valley and imagine the beauty beyond.

Behind the trailer.