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| Liquid bread. |
Now. We can’t really do this thing right. First of all, I’m not really sure what I’m doing. We, and you’re just gonna need to get used to me speaking about myself as if I’m a collection of people, are in Oregon, Portland to be precise (and it’s gonna bug me I didn’t get one of the touristy Voodoo Donuts) and I am hoping to push toward the coast tomorrow. Yep. Gonna try to take a decently sized bite out of the Oregon Coast Trail. Now, unfortunately, I do need to be back in Vegas by the 6th for some medical stuff (wheeee! I’m getting a CT), but I’m hoping to come back and finish the same week. Shouldn’t have much left, anyway.
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| Outside the hostel |
So, gentle reader, you find me plopped on the floor of a hostel going over my gear and trying to figure out what I need and what I’m forgetting. Already had something break, pack buckle, and got that fixed at REI. Pee rag was MIA and I did forget my hat at home. Whoops. Off to a stellar start. That said, the lady at the Welcome to Oregon kiosk at the airport was super friendly. Talked me through the light-rail, gave me a nice-sized map of the coast, as well as a little field-notes journal and a nice pen. Frixon. Yeah. Those are like $3 a pop! Went to a place a friend from high school recommended for lunch/dinner where the bartender told me she forgot to charge me for me beer, so after giving her a 50% tip, I had dinner for under 15. The hostel is fine, full of folks with energy and ambitions. I’m in a four-person room with only one other lady who will be leaving at 4 so I can pack and roll out freely without worry about bothering anyone.
Alright. Nine o’clock. Wish me luck!
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