Goodbye, California

Finally, after almost three long months, I left California behind and entered into the great state of... Jefferson. To those of you who don't know, the people of northern California refuse to accept that they are not a recognized state.

In Saeid Valley, Jefferson, there exists a post office, general store, restaurant, RV park, and nothing else. The first three exist in one building. The RV park is next door.

Happy (trail name off a very happy hiker) was smart, and left Saeid Valley at 3 in the morning to avoid the heat (105 in the valley) while hiking up the four thousand foot exposed climb.  I was smarter and waited for the restaurant to open at 7a, where I had an excellent omelet, and followed that with an even more excellent milkshake.

After another two days, I finally left the great state of Jefferson, and into the more greater state of Oregon. I didn't realize just how good (I could use some help on my adjectives...) that it would feel (..and my emotional awareness).

I've been in Oregon for about a day now, and it's been absolutely (oh no, another adjective) awesome so far. Just when my spirit was flagging I ran into a cooler full of soda. That definitely helped put PEPS In my steps. In the cooler was a phone number for a trail angel that might (fingers crossed) take me from the trail into town.

I called Mark as soon as I got cell reception, and asked if there was any chance he'd want to give me a ride. He politely said that he wasn't planning on coming back up to the trail, but for some reason changed his mind over the next 30 seconds, and ended up driving an hour round trip with Arlene to pick me up after 9p, give me a quick tour of Ashland, and deliver me to a hostel he had called to make sure there was room at.

And if that weren't enough, he invited me for a beer the next evening, and cooked me an unbelievable salmon dinner.

And if that weren't enough, he is driving me back to the trail tomorrow.

I kept trying to repay him for his generosity (gas money? Pay for the beer?), but he very stubbornly refused.

Maybe you all could help me out by wishing him good luck on his 50 mile ultra this weekend. His email address is melowmark_1959@yahoo.com.  Apparently he is mellow enough not to need the second L.

And one last welcome to Oregon story. My eighteen(?) month niece called me Uncle Roger for the first time. Or, more precisely, Uncle Woger.

Can the rest of Oregon be anything but a letdown from here?  We'll just have to find out.

-Uncle Woger