Day 9b - Blogabond

That's lunch. There's a lot of information to take in there, let me walk you through it. The juice on the left is a pomegranate raspberry 100% juice drink from Nantucket Nectars (happily no high fructose corn syrup). Yes, those are Trivial Pursuit cards in the sugar dish. They're well loved and placed on every table. Requisite salt and pepper, natch. Did I ever tell you that my great grandfather insisted that there was no difference between katsup and mustard save the color? Yes, well, I can tell, but I don't mind them mixed. Then the good stuff. This place had a heated tureen of bbq sauce. It was de-lish. At the end of my meal I had abandoned any pretense of civility and proceeded to slurp the sauce directly from the small serving cup. NOM! That little betsy in the foil is a "small" chicken sammich. I'm glad I didn't get the large. It was at least a third of a pound of slow white roased chicken meat dumped between a quarter bagette of savory butter infused garlic bread. So damn good. Last but not least are the fried potato wedges. Simple but effective. Was at least two medium potatoes. This monument of nom was brought to you by the good people at Eureka's 'Porter Street BBQ'. If you're in town, go.

I love maps. These folksy ones especially. This is at the 'Porter Street BBQ'. I had just finished a chapter in the pulpy sci-fi book I was reading (Joe Haldelman's "Camoflage") and the couple below the painting had just left.

Eureka I found was truly out of my ability to safely drive. From the hotel I had a two hour ride through misty mountain roads and dog leg turns, steep hills. And that was during the day. I could have made it if I were a coffee fiend with a cast iron stomach. I'll be taking it easy with the stomach abuse for a few more days.

On the way to Eugene I stopped at a state beach. It was a wide beach, a good 100 yards from end of the dunes and scrub to the waterline. Low tide most probably. I saw a raven. It was obviously not a crow, more stately, thicker beak, maybe a little wiser, maybe I'm projecting. They were pecking at large lumps of sea weed. Sacrificing my good taste and respect I startled them a little and captured their flight for your pleasure.

More things I will not be seeing on this trip, damn damn damn. Though that's true, I wonder what my tolerance for this high percentage of oxygen is. Will I merge with the soil and undergrowth on a longer trip? Will my beard grow and branch and be home to birds and squirrels?

This is basically the drive. Toss in some turns and twists and hills and views. I wish I had a fish eye lens for this view business.

Had to stop for water, pulled into this town, Tiberon? Just a little beautiful cove. See, If I had time I could have walked down to the virgin beach, swam out to the rocky island and munched on some wild berries and bark.

Check it, yo. Old dude with a covered wagon. I doubt he has a cell phone or wi-fi in that thing. I could be wrong though, he could be a deep sleeper cell from the civil war. The driver was, yes, a grey old gentleman with a giant beard and leathery face, ancient and patient.

written by

kleer001 on November 25, 2008 from Eureka, United States

from the travel blog: Tijuana to Vancouver

tagged Beach, Lunch, BBQ, California, Raven, Oregon, CoveredWagon and Crows

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