All Good in the Hood

Hood River is nestled along the banks of the Columbia River, with the water cutting a swath to divide Washington from Oregon.

About halfway across the state, it seems to avoid the massive, winter/spring rainfall as found on the coast, and instead seems to be more a climate associated with the dry and often hot plains found in the middle of the state.

However, dug in amongst the high walls of the gorge, the shadows throughout the day make this place much more tolerable during the Sarahan days of summer.

Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Ranier are both clear and visable, with snow still adorning thier peaks, even at this time of year.

The picture you see is from the shore, of the aforementioned Hood River, looking to the west. This pic was taken this very morning.
Don't let anyone say I don't bring you only the freshest blog ingredients!
Always 100% natural, always the finest. The King of Blogs, I think, may be my motto. I'll need a Born-On-Date to insure my freshness though. I'll get with my marketing people later on today.

I am tired though. I was to meet up with at least one cousin, if not two as of yesterday afternoon. Not wanting to impose, as it was a very spontaneous of a phone call, I decided to get a hotel room for my own benefit.
As it were, the only place I called that had a vacancy (Fri. night and all) was what turned out to be a bed and breakfast. Great. Feeling kinda weird as I walked in the door. Me, Mr. Solo vagabond traveler, just off his horse from the dusty, high desert plains of Idaho, unshaved, mostly unkept, and certainly head hair very uncontrolled, I'm sure I didn't look like the nice, sophisticated, upscale gentlemanwho called ahead for his reservation. But I accepted the available room, quickly took a shower in the late afternoon, and went to meet my cuz for dinner and a beer or two.

After just a few hours at a local joint, I found myself real tired of all the freeway traveling, and excused myself for the evening, while setting up plans for lunch today. Trouble was, as I was driving back, I began to feel again wierd, mostly about staying at the room I reserved. Its a bed and breakfast! Its where honeymoon couples stay, and the host will cook you breakfast, and get to know you, and you share personal stories about how you got there and how they first started thier business, blah blah... blah.
I'm sure they are great people, and no harm intended, but I JUST want to crash out, wake up, and jam. I really don't need to chit-chat. When I have a hot woman to globe trot with, and befriend the countryside en masse, then I will chit-chat untill those happy California cows commute thier happy ass on home again.

So, that said, I decided I would camp out again. Granted, two backpacks and my toothbrush were still at the B&B, but screw it, I'll get them in the morning. For now, I was heading to the campgrounds I saw earlier in the day. I found the campgrounds just fine, and there I was. Tired, ready to camp it, ready to forget how much I paid for a room I wasn't even going to sleep in.
And then, just as I was settling in, I became very aware why this latest decision was not such a good one either. Not only did the East-West freight train run every half ahour, about (50 yards away) but also, the only campsites available were just as close to Interstate 94 as they were to the train tracks.
This was twice now I have made the oh-so-not-wise decision to camp out rather than couch surf or shack up in a Holiday Inn, then only to find a camp grounds right on a freeway. No peace here.

End result, I am tired.

Which leads me to another conclusion. Crosscountry traveling should not be done by the light of the Motel 6. (They always leave the light, for some reason...) Instead, travel-trailer, mini-bus, fifth-wheel, mega-bus, or even minivan, I see as a much better mode de transporte.

Next time, its by land yacht, or not at all.