Of the cities I have visited, Portland is far and away my favorite. There are many nice cities in our country, but none call me the way Portland does. It has done an amazing job managing growth boundaries, so you can go from cityscape into farmland or forest with a short drive instead of being surrounded by miles of urban spawl. They didn’t just cut down any inconvenient trees but expended the effort, and money, to preserve them affording the feel of a city in a forest. Serious investment went into public transit making it the nicest I have ever used. It’s the city with pride.
I had watched nervously when the news sources reported massive destruction as the city became a battlefront for that creepy group of heavily armed simpletons who looked like their parents met at a family reunion. Thankfully the news was blown out of proportion and the city is still amazing with very few scars.
We picked July because I have wanted to go to the Blues Festival for a very long time and was thwarted in the past. In addition to the festival, we went to music at two clubs, took two nice hikes, saw a movie, hit enough brewpubs that I lost count, had a long soak at the Everett house, and ate so much good food I may have gone up a belt size. That last item isn’t great news, but everything else was superb.
July is risky because it can get hot. In our final week, the weather turned on us. Temperatures yesterday peaked at 102F, during which we huddled in the dark with part of the rig sectioned off to maximize cooling in the house. This trend was predicted for the rest of the week, and our home has wheels, so we said “F” this and scooted out to the coast. Sitting at Long Beach with the door open, the sun providing my power, and a cool breeze blowing off of the ocean.
May peace find you.
Torta Log 