Twin Peaks

Recounted 28 November

Petaluma, California

Leaving Orick early, we headed into Redwoods National Park, fascinated with the views of visceral topography, the undisturbed forest seeming to extend into infinity in all directions.  The sense of changing scales, from the intimacy of being among the trees, in microcosms of rainforest ferns and dripping moss, to splendid vistas between the passes, and the rare glimpse of the coast, put me in a Twin Peaks state of mind.

Passing Trinidad, I found the cell service that had been lacking since Gold Beach and caught up with a Virginia expatriate friend, Jack, near Arcata.  We went into Arcata with his lovely girlfriend, Cheryl and had an excellent cup of organic coffee and a highly recommended two-egg breakfast.  Cheryl took The Kay’ for a stroll as Jack and I walked the central square and hit a grocery where I bought a pound of organic coffee produced by a friend of his.

Passing the statue of President McKinley, we discussed the problems with the homeless on the West Coast, as migrations seem to end here, and the notion that the dog had to be on the leash in the midst of a number of slumbering civilians. I had heard initiatives being proposed for Portland on the radio in Oregon, and noticed a couple of road-worn street worms in Redmond. We didn’t discuss the Occupy Movement, or any of the parallels in finding public respite.

He invited us to spend the night in his large garage (more lounge than garage), with his Burning Man Camper, tables and chairs, and a pool table; and after a well-deserved sleep, we headed back for Trinidad.

My cousin Ben had regaled me with Trinidad lore when I visited in May, and I was excited to explore the pristine harbor and a number of small, secluded beaches north towards Big Lagoon.  Kaya got into it, surfing from the passenger window, as most of our driving was on tiny, winding, partially paved/partially washed-out paths through the coastal hills and valleys.  We lounged for the afternoon, enjoying the sun, sand and sea, ultimately seeking out a seafood shack.  Sated, we returned to Jack’s for the evening.

We discussed the transformations of the legal terrain of the West Coast, Jack pointing out that he spent more time living in Portland than California. I rhetorically lamented the decision to trek across the desert and mountains of Eastern Oregon, resulting in our missing out on Portland, a city with seven bridge spans across the Columbia River, and spectacular waterfalls to the North.

Somewhere, in the unwritten text of The Next Adventure, I began formulating a tour of waterfalls.  We had missed seeing Twin Falls and others on the Snake River in Idaho, some falls in the river gorges of Utah and now those of the Pacific Northwest.