Thirty-five freakin’ degrees read the thermometer as we snuck out of Seattle under the cover of early morning darkness. Hottie and I were both wearing light sweat pants, and I even had on sandals in hopes of the weather warming as we reduced our latitude. Before we hit Tacoma there was snow, yes snow, swirling in the air as black skies slowly turned grey. With Zen like focus and caffeine in our veins we piloted the beast south. Our last time in Portland was for the USGP of Cyclocross last December and the weather was epic then with snow followed by rain and wind and rain and rain. This time there were some flakes blowing and a low thermometer, but nothing of biblical proportions.
As we passed Eugene and then points south the sun was making itself known and my arms basked in the sunshine coming through the windshield. We ate a burger in Grant’s Pass, Oregon where folks were wearing T shirts. The sight of bare arms was refreshing.
Crossing into the golden state it was evident there we had lost some serious latitude. Less undergrowth among the pine trees signaled we were out of the Northwest. We arrived in time to see Hottie’s WSU Cougars exit the NCAA sweet sixteen in honorable fashion. After an improvised tour of Fortuna and a salad we settled in for a good sleep.
The next morning we awoke to the alarm and showered, packed, ate and were underway by six thirty. Ouch. Wearing shorts I was forcing the sun to come out. We made it through the Bay area without incident and sailed down the coast and arrived in Solvang and checked in.
Solvang is a quaint town with a Danish theme that thankfully does not take itself too seriously. Leavenworth, Washington, on the other hand, has grown men in lederhosen walking the streets much of the summer. Scary.
I picked up my number and signed the waiver and we went for spaghetti. Sleep would be welcome after eleven-hundred miles in two days.
As we passed Eugene and then points south the sun was making itself known and my arms basked in the sunshine coming through the windshield. We ate a burger in Grant’s Pass, Oregon where folks were wearing T shirts. The sight of bare arms was refreshing.
Crossing into the golden state it was evident there we had lost some serious latitude. Less undergrowth among the pine trees signaled we were out of the Northwest. We arrived in time to see Hottie’s WSU Cougars exit the NCAA sweet sixteen in honorable fashion. After an improvised tour of Fortuna and a salad we settled in for a good sleep.
The next morning we awoke to the alarm and showered, packed, ate and were underway by six thirty. Ouch. Wearing shorts I was forcing the sun to come out. We made it through the Bay area without incident and sailed down the coast and arrived in Solvang and checked in.
Solvang is a quaint town with a Danish theme that thankfully does not take itself too seriously. Leavenworth, Washington, on the other hand, has grown men in lederhosen walking the streets much of the summer. Scary.
I picked up my number and signed the waiver and we went for spaghetti. Sleep would be welcome after eleven-hundred miles in two days.
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