Good morning from Florence…

Oregon, that is.

It’s 8:44 am, and the day has risen gray and foggy over the Siuslaw River that flows by my Best Western hotel room. The visit with my Portland friends, Tim and Cheri, was great...a delectable dinner at a white-tablecloth place called Higgins (we always try out a restaurant we’ve never been to), then Tim made a mean omelet with a coconut curry sauce for breakfast. Also saw Barney (my former horse) on the way through Chehalis. Cried a bit to say hello and farewell to him. Animals are always harder for me to say goodbye to than people.

After Portland, I meandered through McMinnville (a hub of Oregon wineries and hazelnut/walnut orchards, and current home of the Spruce Goose—the hangar alone looked like it could house two 787s wing to wing) and I visited the Brigittine Monastery for some monk-made fudge. They’re the world’s only monastery devoted to St. Brigitte the Passionate Prophet, who in the 1300s walked from her home country of Sweden to France to tell the Pope (who had fled Rome for safety in France) that she’d had a vision and that he MUST return to Rome and keep the church there. He apparently thought that was a pretty good idea, coming from God and all, and hoofed it back to Vatican City. So once again, major politics and religion are shaped by the women behind the men....

The rest of the drive to Florence was, well, rotten, especially once I got onto 101 from 18. Rain rain rain and more rain plus fog the whole way down, and I arrived an hour after dark to continued rain during the multi-trip schlep of cat and person goods from truck to upstairs room. By the time I went out for dinner, I was looking like that proverbial drowned rat...only a hat saved my vanity.

I was grateful that this part of the coast road wasn’t particularly winding (I had visions of Big Sur), but the stormy weather also wasn’t particularly inviting to take in an ocean walk and viewing. The sea and sky were almost the same dark dove gray, and the breakers high and white wherever I saw them. The glimpses of the coast available before weather and night closed in were rugged and spectacular...reminiscent of Monterey, with windblown, shattered-looking pines clinging to black hulks of rock. I look forward to the rest of the drive down the coast today with better visibility...or at least daylight.

Patchouli is doing pretty good with the truck travel, though he sometimes goes all yowly and fussy for no apparent reason than to grate on my already rain-wracked travel nerves. He still hasn’t used his kitty box while in the truck, but that’s probably mostly from his system...he typically uses it only in the morning and evening, anyway, so I suppose I should be thankful that I don’t have to deal with it overall.

He’s prowling around the hotel room now, looking VERY intently at the balcony through the sliding glass door, no doubt plotting his rappelling route for an escape.

I’m off to Crescent City, CA, today, crossing by car into California for the first time since 1987. Sheesh. ETA for San Diego’s winter stay: Nov 20, with most of my shipped goods arriving a day ahead of me.

Off now to pack the truck and hit the road. More to come as email access, time, and energy allow.