I’ve never spent much time thinking about Oregon before.
As a kid I drove out to Arizona from Illinois with my grandparents. Along the way I insisted on getting my picture made in front of every state sign wearing nothing but my He-man underoos and flexing my muscles. On that trip I saw the grand canyon and we drove to the San Diego zoo. That was my first memory of California and my standard for road trips in general. As an adult I visit California every chance I get and I still flex my muscles when I can. I have seen and done most everything there is to do in San Fransisco. However, in all of my travels, I have never made it farther north than the Golden Gate. I have always wondered what was up there.
At the end of 2014 Alex and Daniel, my bosses and owners of Wier / Stewart announced that we would each receive a stipend to be used on an inspirational trip that we wouldn’t have otherwise taken. The money wasn’t for a conference, a new font set, or a killer neck tattoo, it was to be used for genuine inspiration. However you define it. An awesome gesture with tons of potential.
For several years, I wanted to fly out to San Fransisco, drive up to Portland and fly home. Portland always seemed like a cool place and I figured if I fit in so well in the bay, I will also fit right in there. Nike is there, designers keep flocking there, why shouldn’t I do the same? Plus the road trip aspect of it interest me. I already had a ton of reason and this field trip program finally gave me the chance to just do it.*
*corn a
I emailed the only person I really know in Portland and asked what course of action to take. He suggested I fly into Seattle and drive down rather than driving up. Then fly out of San Fransisco. So I took the advice and reversed my original plan. I booked a 4am flight out of Atlanta, rented a car, reserved my AirBnBs and on July 6th, I was on my way to the home of the SeaHawks. I left my He-Man Underpants at home.
The plane ride was typical. The man I sat next to had been accidentally locked in a mental institution in Atlanta and his wife had to come and get him. Here I was heading out for inspiration and this guy is fresh out the looney bin just trying to get home. I was amazed that he was telling me this stuff but for some reason, people tell me these kinds of things. An interesting start to my trip.
I arrived with my crew in Seattle around 3:00pm on the 7th of July. A Tuesday. We piled into a rented blue Jeep, our mothership for the next week, and headed down to the pier. Having stopped maturing in the mid 90s, Seattle was one of the coolest places I have ever been.
I liked it so much in fact that they gave me a parking ticket almost immediately just to remind me that I couldn’t stay long. I think I saw everything that the postcards show you. The hipsters throwing fish, the space needle and even the original Starbuck’s. Turns out the young girl behind the counter lived about 30 miles from me in South Carolina before moving out west. She hooked us up proper. I didn’t meet any fish throwers. The EMP Museum had a Nirvana exhibit that really took me back. I learned that the Nirvana logo from their Bleach album was set in Bodoni just because that’s what was already in the machine when they set it. Figures.
I also went in for a tour of Pike St Press. A letterpress shop right there in Seattle. They were all nice people just doing their thang and loving it.
After I finished with my tourist agenda I did what I really came to Seattle for. To retrace Sir Mix-A-Lot’s route from Rainer to 23rd and Union. My posse was on Broadway.** I made every right and left all the way to the Taco Bell. I even stopped and ate at Dick’s. Those other sucker crews had no idea what hit ’em. Check that off my bucket list. A highlight of my life for sure.
**corn b
The next day we bid farewell to Seattle and set out for Portland. The traffic was pretty rough on the way out. It’s 800 miles from Seattle to San Fran and this wasn’t the best way to start it. But we conquered the roads without much delay and were in Portland by 9:00 that night. Lucky for us, the sun never seems to go down out there so it was still day light. Honestly, I expected to see a lot more weirdos and hipsters when I rolled into town, but I guess I’ve been to Asheville, NC too many times to be surprised by anything. However, I did see a Firetruck at a regular gas pump and a parade float driving down the road. Other than that, it was pretty normal. I blasted the Portlandia theme song on the way into town. I bet I am the first person to do that.
The next morning I took an Uber over the bridge to visit my friend and fellow designer, Aaron Draplin at his shop. He came by our office last year so I figured he owed me a tour. Plus I wanted to thank him for such solid travel advice. His shop was kind of like the book store where Bastian steals the never ending story. Only with thicker lines. Aaron sits in the back plugging away on this and that. We caught up and talked about the best places to get your car washed and he introduced me to some of the other folks that work around him. There are some really good people working in that town. I even got to see his lovely lady Leigh. Aaron recommended I drive out to Mt. Hood and check it out. So I left him to it and did just that.
We drove up and up the winding hillside until finally our Jeep was in the clouds. When we broke through the mist and saw the peak, everyone in the car was quiet. It was as if we had entered a Bob Ross painting. It was just 90 degrees and I am now staring at snow a mile away. It was an intense thing to see. Every step you took the temperature dropped. You could look up and see the glaciers cutting into the side of the summit. Look down and it is nothing but tree tops and clouds.*** Seeing that mountain appear out of thin air really had an effect on me. It was way more impressive than the worlds smallest park I visited earlier and it was only the beginning of my Oregon experience.
*** Also, they filmed the Shining at Mt. Hood’s Timberline Lodge. Spoiler alert: there is no maze. Yeah, I was disappointed too.
We drove the coast down the length of the state. The Pacific ocean is somehow bigger than the Atlantic. It’s scary looking. It’s older and has more in it and would be to our right for the rest of the trip. As we drove deeper into the seaside, everything started to change shape. The trees got bigger, the shadows got darker and the thinning road winded more and more. Eventually it was more like driving through a park than a rural route or highway. The towns seemed like they were a 100 miles apart, yet there were cyclist everywhere. In for the long haul. There was even a human hermit crab. I mean that a man had his house strapped to his back, walking it down the road. Sort of a Mad Max meets HGTV kind of thing. There were Elk by the herd and I kept my eye on the water hoping to see a whale of some sort, but no such luck. I still didn’t know anything about Oregon and it was just supposed to be our path to somewhere else. But the longer we drove, I started to realize, that it was our true destination. When we arrived at the dunes I didn’t know what to expect. What is a dune? A big pile of sand? Much like my underestimation of Mt Hood, I didn’t give the dunes enough respect in advance. They were the size of city blocks and as high as 500 feet. Thats almost the height of the Space Needle. Once on top it looked like you were in the desert. Sort of like Mad Max just meets Mad Max. You could snowboard down the side or sled. I preferred to just jump off. So I took a running leap off the edge of a 50 story sand pile. It was like one of those dreams where you are flying and you jolt yourself awake. The ground just fell out and you jumped farther than you are trying to. Finish with a nice tuck and roll and you are now at the bottom looking up at ant size people at the top. Then you have to climb back up. It’s a long way to the top if you wanna… never mind.
We stopped at every parking area and looked out at the water. We never got used to seeing it and it was always a scary sight. Like it knew more than us. One thing that struck me as different is the way the signs speak to you. Here a sign might say “beware of falling rocks” or “Caution Trucks entering highway.” Out there the signs just say “ROCKS” or “TRUCKS.”
Eventually we would head inland and leave the beautiful state for Humbolt County and the avenue of the giants. TREES.
By Saturday we were surrounded by giant redwoods, ancient monsters that once covered the Earth. We were also back into tourist country. We drove through tree trunks, walked into carved out tree houses and graced every gift shop. Each had their own unique twist. Each tree was more impressive than the last and the facts about them were even more impressive than the trees themselves. Some of them fell down before Jesus was born and still have dirt in their roots. Amazing. Some had burned 3 or 4 times over and survived. There are even animals that live in the tops of these trees that have never touched the ground. Paul Bunyan would approve.
Our last detour before hitting our final destination was the black sand beach at Shelter Cove. Now, I know that you are imagining a sunny California beach with sand that looks black and is otherwise a normal beach with girls in swimsuits and maybe even a volleyball game. Well, get that image out of your head and instead, think back to the spike level of Mario Brothers. The level where everything is monotoned grey and little spiked guys slide into you and bullets fly at you from out of nowhere. That level was inspired by this same beach.
The treacherous road leading to it should have been our first warning. Once on the beach, you were not allowed to swim due to creeper waves and an undertow that could pull boulders out to sea. Signs warned of hungry bears and paranoid rattlesnakes. Others advised you to “never turn your back to the ocean.” Even the first aid kit only contained a mini bottle of cheap whiskey and a holy bible. There was no sand. Only smooth flat black rocks, polished since the beginning of time and perfect for skipping.
If only the water wasn’t a choppy mess with no rhythm or reason to it. Despite all of this, it was a place of true beauty and I actually liked it. We spent a few hours there, but it’s no place to be after dark.
This would be the last real bit of nature that we would experience on this journey. The In and Out Burger in Santa Rosa saw to that. We rolled in around 10 and felt at home. San Fransisco is an awesome town and I get out there every chance I get. We eat, we surf and we visit with the friends that we have made out there. Especially around the mountain through Daly City and towards Half Moon Bay. I missed my pals from Morning Breath by about a day and Nick Slater kept getting called into work, so I never got to meet Thor the Corgy. But a garage jam session broke out with yours truly on drums.
As we improvised punk rock tunes late into the night, I loved being there, but I kept wondering how long before I got to take another trip to Oregon. Maybe this time with the Ocean on the left side.
I think about that a lot now.
The flight home was a relief. After all, it had been a long time on the road and we went pretty hard every day. Being away from home is a good place to be from time to time. It makes you remember the great things that you have and sometimes take for granted when you pass them by every day. Fond memories of home will always make you come back and I love it here in the South. But these days, I think about Oregon a lot more than I used to.****
****to be continued.
