The Oregon Trail
Tuesday we headed off southwards into Oregon passing by Mount St Helens and heading off eventually on to the Pacific coast.
Our beach front split level condo was at Starfish Point near Newport and I have to say that it was most luxurious. I got the loft bedroom with the jacuzzi in the bathroom and on the first evening we all hunkered down into the foaming water by candlelight. Bliss. I had a very perky glass of Californian Chardonnay as well.
The only thing that was missing was someone to hold in my arms and I kept hearing in my mind's ear Keith's laughter and remembering all the times we spent a leisurely Sunday morning in the bath together at Egerton Street.
So, relaxed and happy, I climbed into my Queen sized bed. Actually, in retrospect,
it may not have been the best idea to give me the open plan bedroom as Dale
tells me that I am still very noisy even on my own.
The weather was squally the following morning so Rod and I left Dale to nap whilst we went into Newport to check out some logistical things like did the local library have Internet connections (answer - not yet available to the public). We also took in the interesting if dilapidated hotel in which each guest bedroom was decked out in a style appropriate to a particular author. Rod's favourite was the Edgar Allen Poe room but I found that too gloomy. I preferred the cool elegance of the Robert Louis Stevenson room.
It was still inclement in the afternoon but I needed a bit of space to myself. So, in the wind and the rain I headed off down the beach wrapped from head to toe in Rod and Dale's waterproof gear. I did the done thang and can now claim to have dipped my fingers into the Pacific ocean. There was lots of neat driftwood and crab shells to examine and the flotsam and jetsom of a great ocean. On the way back, I turned on my Walkman and sang along at the top of my voice with the likes of Ella Fitzgerald, Peggy Lee and Pet Shop Boys. And it was strange to think that westwards there was little in the way of humanity before Japan or Australia to hear me.
Thursday, we did some shopping to evade more rain and ended up at the Aquarium in the afternoon. The highlight of that establishment is Keiko. Who? Well, what actually. Think Free Willy - that's the film, boys. Keiko is the Killer Whale featured in both films. He was brought here from Mexico to a larger pool. The guide explained the programme of training he is undergoing with the hope that he may eventually be returned to his pod (family) near Iceland. He is a magnificent beast and I may be deeply in love with him.
We rented In Search of the Castaways from the video store because Dale and I had wonderful childhood memories of the film. It's a lot less spectacular than today's films but it was just glorious then. And it saw us happily through til bedtime.
In the night, we had the mother of a storm. I got up at about three in the morning to sit in the observation window and watch the waves pound upon the shore.
After brunch at the Whale's Tale, which had become our regular eating place, we went for a look round a waterfront gallery. The place was crammed with stuff that just begged to be bought. And I kept having to remind myself about transporting any stuff home. Though I could see much of it looking fabulous in any home. And I wanted to be buying stuff and I wanted someone there with me choosing and planning and suddenly the tears came again and the ache and the loneliness. And I was glad of good friends like Rod and Dale to be there for me.