Before the Trip
August 7–8 marked my second long road trip of the summer on the scooter, this time down to Portland. I had intended to ride to Portland for Pride in mid-June, but that got stopped by needing scooter repairs (and given the heavy rain on the way down, no big loss). I was then planning to ride in mid-July for the Alder Street Hoedown, but repairs were still underway, so I again had to drive. Third time’s the charm, I guess.
Plotting my route, I knew I wanted to avoid the steep hill north of Olympia where I–5 climbs the Nisqually ridge. After some online research, it appeared that Highway 507 would be my best bet, through Roy, Yelm, Rainier, and Tenino. Looking further and comparing Google Maps time estimates, it appeared that staying off I–5 altogether until near Centralia was doable, adding only like 15 minutes to the trip. Indeed, I could take Rainier Avenue through south Seattle and Renton until it turned into Highway 167, get off onto 161 and then 512 at Puyallup, and then off that at Parkland to head to Spanaway and pick up 507 there.
(I don’t think Google Maps does a good job of estimating times through the urban district of Parkland/Spanaway or the backroads of Highway 507, where you slow down every 6 miles for the next town. The route took longer than I expected.)
This weekend was also Seafair in Seattle, with the Blue Angels roaring overhead and the hydroplane races on Lake Washington. One of the major viewing locations is about a mile from my house, which means that traffic is horrific on this weekend, and thus I’m pleased to be able to leave town for Seafair. I’ve only been in Seattle this weekend maybe 3 or 4 times in the past decade.
The Ride Down
This weekend, rain was threatening, with low overcast clouds. (I’m told that the Blue Angels had to alter their routine to compensate for the clouds.) I felt a little schadenfreude toward the crowds who were going to get rained up. But of course, that tends to come back at you: I had to ride in the rain from home down to Southcenter Mall (about 10 miles), although then it mostly cleared up.
I rode down to Yelm, where I stopped for gas and decides to shed the rain pants. I then continued out to pick up I–5 at Grand Mound, and then headed south to Centralia. I stopped at the Centerville Western Wear store there and picked up a new western shirt — forest green with “WRANGLER” in gold thread on the pocket and the sleeve. (I almost bought one in plum with silver threading on the pocket and back instead, but decided I look better in the green.)
After a pretty medicore French dip sandwich at Arby’s, I got back on the road. From there, I had to deal with rain again until Kelso (most of an hour), where I stopped for gas again.
You Can’t Go Home Again
From 4th to 7th grades (over 30 years ago), my family lived in the Hazel Dell area of Vancouver, Washington. (“Vancouver A.D.” I like to call it, vs. “Vancouver B.C.”. Heh.) Since I had the time, I detoured through north Vancouver, past Columbia High School and down to 95th Street, and tried to find the second place we lived. The big tree I recall in the back yard wasn’t there anymore, but the juniper-laden planting on the corner was, so I think I found it. I then rode down to 85th Street, to the first house we lived in, and I think I found it. I think it’s even the same color as when we lived there. I took pictures of both houses, plus Dwight David Eisenhower Elementary and Jason Lee Junior High, both of which I attended. The latter looked basically identical, but the elementary school had been completely rebuilt, I think.
Time blurs all sorts of memories, but one of the biggest as you grow up is the sense of scale. Things were vastly closer together than my memory has them. The house on 85th Street was only a block from the Junior High (which I didn’t attend until we had moved 10 blocks away). And it was only maybe a mile to whatever shopping area had existed back then and to the freeway. Today I would walk that without thinking, but then it was vastly far away. Makes me think that as I kid, I never tended to go more than 4 or 5 blocks from home, and often probably not even off my own block. Weird feeling.
Alder Street Hoedown
This trip, I stayed at the Courtyard by Marriott near the Oregon Convention Center. This was convenient to the PPAA for the dancing (more so that the Econo Lodge was in July), and the room was good. I again used Hotwire, getting the room for just $75.
While DJ Crystal has been on vacation for the summer, Rain Country Dance Association in Seattle has been working with Reuben and Pamlin in Portland to put on dance nights to fill the gap — same space, schedule, lesson plan, etc. — dubbed the Alder Street Hoedown. We want to ensure that Portland has a growing community, and two months with no dancing wouldn’t help. Rain Country is providing DJs, some teaching, and some monetary support to ensure the events at least break even.
Terry DJed for the Alder Street Hoedown, and taught the line dances — Picnic Polka and Cowboy Cha Cha (partner flow dance). When I got there at 9:00, they had just started the second one (which really should have been done at 9:00, but they apparently started late), but I didn’t hear griping.
The Alder Street Hoedown nights look to be a success, at least in terms of maintaining the Portland dance community during Crystal’s vacation and not losing money. In fact, Reuben says they have had as many people as usually seen in the spring, which would be an uptick in attendance over what would normally be expected in the summer (given good weather pulling people away, and summer vacations), so that’s very good. As a side angle, there has long been some dissatisfaction with Crystal as a DJ from some Portland dancers — if nothing else than because she’s the only one the dancers experience — and by giving them a little variety, perhaps some leverage can be built up to shift Crystal toward music selections which people will like more.
There will be one more Alder Street Hoedown this summer, on August 21 (past by the time I’m writing this), with Keith as the DJ. Hope it also goes well.
Getting Laid
I loosely planned to go to the Eagle Portland after the dance. As part of Oregon Leather Pride Week, they were hosting a uniform party, so I had brought a sailor shirt with me. This meant that I also didn’t have to pack my leathers for the trip, which I was content leaving out of the scooter trunk.
(I am not really into uniform fetish — I’ve never been in the military and I’m not attracted to the look, the attire, or the attitude for roleplay. The only military backgrounds I know in my family are late 1950s National Guard from my father, early 1940s Army from my mother’s father [who abandoned the family], and an early 19th century Prussian cavalry officer on my father’s side of the family. I’m anal-retentive enough to know that I would need for any real uniform I wore to be as complete and accurate as I could make it, and I’m not about to try to put together that cavalry outfit! So this shirt is one of the few concessions to that fetish that I have, enough to be “in gear” at such an event without worrying much about accuracy and completeness.)
But cruising on Grindr at dinner time, I connected with someone who apparently connected the red on the leather harness in my pic to other activities. (He’s not the first to do so. I’m actually surprised by this, since so many guys seem to clueless at times, but I’m happy when it happens.) I had to go to the dance, and he had other early evening plans, but we arranged to get together later at his place.
Suffice to say, I did get laid. Real good like! Small hands, great attitude, and a Volcano Vaporizer — I was totally floating for the evening. Now if we can just arrange a repeat visit, or have him come to visit me.
The Trip Back
After brunch on Sunday at the Village Inn, I rode down to Columbia Scooters to check out what they carry — which turned out to be Kymco (same as my scooter). I talked to the owner for a while, who was (like many people) surprised that I could ride mine to Portland and Vancouver like I do. He asked whether I hear engine strain noises, since I’m definitely pushing it beyond expected usage patterns, but no, haven’t heard any whines or the like. I bought a lock-down cable, since I don’t have one of those. I also drooled over the Kymco Quannon 150 sport bikes (the second branch-out of Kymco into motorcycles, following the Venox from a few years ago). He said they haven’t sold well, so he’s going to be dropping the price in August. (Hmmm. No, damn, can’t afford one now!)
When I go to Portland, I usually like to go out to the nude beach at Rooster Rock State Park, about 20 miles east of Portland. Facing a long scooter trip home, though, I didn’t want to go all that way out, and I had been there two weeks before and found much of the trek to the beach area a horrible muddy bog. Portland does have a second nude beach, at Sauvie Island about 20 miles west of Portland. I researched where it is and initially hoped to go there on the way down on Saturday, but the weather stopped that. On Sunday, the weather report was for sunny but cool weather, making it not worth going then, either.
However, in the process, I had investigated an alternate route to Sauvie Island, to avoid going to Portland and then doubling back 20 miles north. There is a bridge across the Columbia at Longview, and then state Highway 30 goes down the Oregon side of the river, through Rainier, Columbia City, St. Helens, Scappoose, Linnton. So rather than take I–5 back through Vancouver, I took the road less travelled up the river the Longview. (Interesting: I would go through Rainier in both Oregon and Washington, and through Columbia City in both states [it’s the neighborhood just south of my house in Seattle].)
The weather might not have been quite warm enough for nude sunbathing, but it was wonderful for riding a state highway. I strapped my riding coat to the seat behind me (with that new cable) and just wore the new Western shirt atop my t-shirt. Delightful ride. Once I got through Longview and to Kelso, before getting on I–5, I put the coat back on.
Got gas in Kelso. At Centralia, hit the usual grind-to-a-halt that haunts I–5 north from there to Olympia every Sunday afternoon. (Literally, almost every weekend! And for no discernable reason like an accident or a narrowing of the highway.) So I got off at the bypass to Bucoda, which connected me up again with 507 at Tenino. And then retraced my route from Saturday (with a couple more stops for gas and snacks along the way), but was able to ride through Renton and south Seattle now that Seafair was done.
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