Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Returning

The drive home was different from anything we had previously done. We did 670 miles the first day, and 340 the second. The most we had previously driven in a single day was 350 miles, so we almost doubled that our first day. We left in the dark, and just drove, making only necessary stops along I5.

It was a rainy day, with brief interludes of sunshine. One was when we turned the corner to see Mt. Shasta looming up ahead of us. My goodness.



There are several passes in northern California and southern Oregon. Once again I was glad to have a solid vehicle.





One decision we made when purchasing the pickup was to not get a diesel engine. It would have cost about $9000 more. A diesel has more power, and apparently gets somewhat better gas mileage. However, fuel is more expensive.

But our gasoline powered truck has a 6.2 liter, a large engine, and it pulled our heavy camper up those passes with ease. And we got 13.8 miles per gallon on our 1000 mile trip, driving between 60 and 65 mph, which seems to me to be awesome given we were hauling 4000 pounds on a 6000 pound vehicle.

We arrived at an RV park where we were going to spend the night, and I set up while Vicky went inside to pay. She hurriedly returned to tell me "wait!" "They don't have bathrooms."

What? This was the last thing we needed to hear after a day of driving 13 hours, mostly in the rain, over several mountain passes, in the dark, and cold, and rain.

We had never heard of such a thing.

So we packed back up, and tried to find another place. We found a couple of RV parks, but they were basically either dangerous looking or strange, so decided to drive to Eugene and find a Motel 6, which we did, and which had a room, and which was cheap and clean and actually one of the nicest motel rooms I have booked in several years. But boy were we tired.



Vicky brought in our food, and our hotplate, and my coffee machine (as an indulgence we had purchased a one-cup K-cup coffee machine for me to use when we were in RV parks). So it was sort of like being in our camper, except we didn't have to find trees in the middle of the night.



Since we had driven farther than we had anticipated that day, I realized we had some extra time, and so we decided the next morning to drive into Portland and see if we could find the places where I did my internship and lived in 1976-1977. I had not been back to either place since I left for my job at ISU in 1977.

After much searching, we first found the site of my internship. I had not remembered the address, only the vague location, and while the agency is still flourishing, it moved from the building on Powell Boulevard some (unknown) years ago.



It was an odd feeling, a bittersweet one. This agency, the Carl Morrison Center for Youth and Family Services, was the final piece to my training as a psychologist. At that agency I grew so much as a clinician and made the decision that I wanted to return to academia for my career instead of having a purely clinical one.

In the time since I lived in the home on 29th Avenue in Portland, I have been retired for 5 years from my 30-year career. When I moved from there I was a young man, with all of that ahead of me. And now I am much older, and all of that is behind me.



Once again, as with my father's death, I am reminded of how quickly life passes, and the importance of using each day carefully and mindfully. It was good being there with Vicky, as she understood all I was feeling, and really wanted me to revisit this part of my past.

We arrived home, happy to be in our wonderful bit of heaven on Whidbey Island.





For the next two nights we both had the same strange sensation at times, when we would wake in the night. We'd be disoriented--where are we? It took us both a few seconds to remember that we were at home.

Our journey started last June, with the decision to purchase a camper and pickup, and it ended two days ago, or this installment ended two days ago. We traveled 6000 miles. Saw and did things we never dreamed about. Got to be with my father the final two weeks of his life. Got to be there to help my mother with the first stages of adjustment to life with him being just a memory. Hiked, biked, and danced. Learned so much.

We will be home for a month, and then we are heading off in the camper to Utah and Colorado for a month.

We've got the bug.

We spent almost 12 weeks living in the bed of a pickup.

1 comment:

  1. Welcome home! You both look so happy, healthy and alive! Such beautiful smiles! :) :)

    ReplyDelete