The Rush of the Beckoning Road

I followed the road's beckoning today. The strain of work, the grilling of my numbers, surveys, and statistics just got too grueling, and I needed to escape. To see a place that I have never seen before.

Luckily, I had the trusty Catalyst. She hasn't been driven in a while, so I asked her really nicely to take me to a faraway place. And so began my journey.

After work I pulled out onto I-5 Northbound with the one goal: Go somewhere and forget about work. Get away as much as possible before I lost daylight. I didn't touch my phone, I didn't look for directions, I just followed my intuition northward.

Quickly I departed Clark County into Cowlitz County. The border is not that far from Vancouver. But  I did not care. I sped past Woodland and Kalama, enjoying a glimpse of sun through the low lying rain clouds.

Quickly I came into Longview/Kelso area. Then the rain began. The roads are horribly drained here, so my car was slipping and sliding over the standing water on the freeway, ready to begin fishtailing like it was in the worst of blizzards in Ohio. It was then that I made my mission. I would continue as long as I could see the sun, and find it on the other side of the dreary weather. So I pushed through the rain outside of Longview/Kelso, and kept driving.

Now, I have driven up to Olympia before, but only once, so farther than Longview/Kelso was still relatively new to me. There is still a good half a county north of the two cities so I finally glimpsed a couple of the towns which I so often refer to, but have not visited. But I wasn't here to see; I was here to escape. Farther north I drove.

Because I did not want to stay on the freeway the entire time, I deviated to the East via US Route 12. By now I had left Cowlitz County for territory unknown. Lewis County. I did not know any city names here except for Chehalis/Centralia, so every twist to the east was new for me.

The geography of this area is completely new for me. I have very little concept of the microscale of the terrain, only the large features, such as the Cascades, the Willamette Valley, and that other part of Washington north of the Willamette Valley before you hit Puget Sound. Its not the Columbia River, and it is not the Puget Sound... and it is bound by the Cascades to the east, and non existent mountains to the west. The plain was pleasant.

I entered a valley where the Cowlitz River flowed through from the Cascades. And then, all at once, I dived into those Evergreen covered hills. Down, down, down, I went into the sharp and tight valley. And then out to a wider valley, surrounded by the Cascades themselves. What a beautiful sight. I could just imagine seeing Mt. Rainier, a mere 40 miles away, looming in the distance, hiding behind the omnipresent clouds lingering from the winter.

It was then that I needed gas, and I pulled over, filled up, got some snacks, and continued. I had half an hour before the light faded away, and I was going to keep searching and finding those spots of sun. It was then that I consulted my map, and found Mossyrock, a small town about 15 minutes to the east. I had enough of the escape by then: I was ready to take pictures.

It was a small town of 700 people, out in the middle of this wide valley. This is the kind of town I hoped to come across in traveling all this way. I drove through the town, saving the sights for when I came back, and I pressed on to Mossyrock Lake.

The drive from there took me to a perfect conclusion for my hour and half adventure from the city:

Behold! A lake beside a lake with an island in the middle! This was obviously the result of a damming of the water and streams, which I found later on. The whole scene, with its blueness, its dark cloudy sunset gave me an appreciation for the rain which haunts this place during the winter.

Driving back, I took some pictures of a smaller lake created by a smaller dam, along with some car shots of the rain.

Finally, I pulled back into the town of Mossyrock, and snapped some photos of old buildings and the town itself again.

I began my journey back, out of the town, and to the highway to conclude my search for the sun. The way back was calm and rainy, and I found myself scrolling through radio stations bouncing to the music as I entered the city lights of Vancouver.

The Uptick

The things that come from the warmth of the spring sun help us crawl out of the darkness and gray of winter. A city that was never frozen begins to thaw, and for the first time in months, the clock's second hand begins to click again. Big city lights give way to long sunny nights, and you can begin to see the green once more.

Who knew the urban landscape, with its ribbons of roads, and its ever moving river of traffic, could look this beautiful.

Constant highway noise becomes regular when you are in the city. Grinding wheels on rough pavement create this low hum that can always be heard.

I can hear it on my front porch. It's always there, humming along, like a gas engines in the very vehicles that travel upon its surface. But this car never stops.

Transition now to the electric rails. The rocking of a car back and forth as it travels its set path. As sheets of rain fall outside, you are just thankful to be in the warm car, only to confront your warm spring inevitability in a couple of minutes. But that makes the rain different; it's a spring rain. It doesn't numb the toes; it cleans the soul.

Once you arrive, you walk around the park. Dance along the ballroom floor. Squeak into the house. Your feet take you where you want to go, where you dare to go, and where you need to see. That is the beautiful thing about travel and experience. Eventually, it all goes back to your feet. To get you out of the car; to hop down from the bus; to get you off of the train; to pedal the bike; to sway with the ship; to stumble in flight. Your feet do all of that for you.

And once the spring comes the switch flicks, and you are now in the uptick. And you dance in the sunshine of the fading day.

Updates from a Brick Fanatic (Part 2)

Last Sunday I had the wonderful opportunity to go to Bricks Cascade, a wonderful Lego show at the Oregon Convention Center in Portland. I had never been in the convention center, so after navigating the MAX line to the center, I came to the massive building with its iconic spires on Martin Luther King Jr. boulevard, bought my ticket, and was greeted with this once in the showroom:

The hustle and bustle of the showroom was amazingly busy: kids, adults, vendors, and builders, all in one place, showing off their creations and creativity. Here are some of the highlights I found as I circled the area:

 

Many of these pictures are pretty self explanatory, but the original brown sky scraper is a Portland landmark, but I'm not exactly sure what it is called. It reminds me that I am still very new to this place, and that I haven't even explored much of the city which is right across the river from me.

There was a micro-scale series, which I really love to look at and see how builders can create understandable scenes with very little, minimalist bricks. Here are some examples of the micro-scale creations.

The micro-scale sets led to some of the oldest Lego pieces I have ever seen. These are some pieces which are from the 1930's, when the idea of the interlocking brick was just beginning to take shape:

Finally, to show the ultimate creativity of the people showing their builds, there were many movie theater creations which actually had either tablets or portable DVD players built into the "screen" part of the theater. I thought this was genius, so I snapped a couple of pictures:

All in all, the Sunday conference started an uptick in my attitude and mental state which has led me into this week feeling some of the best I have felt in a while. A lot of it is probably the new found sunshine, but a lot of it is also the warmth which visits the region during the day, along with the increasing sense that there is more to explore and to discover, especially when it isn't grey and rainy for months. But more on that to come later. For now, enjoy the Lego pictures, and maybe even take out some of your old sets and build some yourself!

Time on a Quiet Park Bench

On Friday I ran to the Columbia River Waterfront in Vancouver to enjoy the warm weather, the sunshine, and the beautiful views of the river and the I-5 bridge at sunset.

The Interstate Bridge is a perfect echo back to the industrial power of these two cities. It links and crosses state borders, and ties together the two states with a network of steel beams and steel rivets. The Columbia River Renaissance Trail passes right underneath the bridge, allowing you to see it up close and personal. The green of the aged steel and creaking of the pavement and supports above urge you to reach out and touch a piece of industrial engineering from the 1930's. I almost considered walking across it just to experience the industrialness of the bridge.

Walking along the river, the sun began to set, and with it, the light started to slowly fade from the reflection of the water. The snows on Mt. Hood acted like a canvas upon any color could be painted. This night it was a rich pink from the elongated light rays from the sun.

Once well along the trail, I found an isolated spot where the houses lining the river blocked out the highway sound, and the Columbia came right up to the pathway. Sitting there really felt like I was in a park. It really reminded me of Park Güell in Barcelona. A picture perfect place of natural and man made structures, with lots of people walking and enjoying the area.

After that I began the walk to the bus in the twilight, and my spirits were a little better off. I think I need more moments like these.

Updates from a Brick Fanatic (Part 1)

So on Friday I found out about this crazy event happening this weekend called "Bricks Cascade", which is basically a Lego exhibition put on by the local Lego fanclubs of the area, primarily by PortLUG (Portland Lego User Group). If I had known about the entire conference, I would have gladly signed up for the weekend workshops! Sadly I only found out about the public exhibition, which is crazy busy. My phone actually died, so I am sitting here writing this blog post, letting it recharge, in the convention center. I would have gone to find some place to eat, but I just had food before I left, so I'm not really all that hungry. (Plus, everyone knows convention center food is way overpriced.)

Being in a Convention Center feels weird for me. Its takes me back to Model UN, one of the only events I relatively enjoyed that the local high school barely sponsored. It brings me back to the thought of temporary shows and conventions, and what roles they serve in our lives?

Have you ever had that thought of emptiness once you leave an event such as a convention and/or gathering? The event was there, and you enjoyed every bit of it, but in the end, at least for me, it feels as though what I've done is meaningless. Once you break from an experience, you leave it in the recesses of your mind, only to be re-lived with the nostalgic thoughts of an enjoyable couple of days.

As I have moved on to where I am now, these experiences, especially more recent conventions, have at least left me with some lessons I have taken back to work or my life. But these are usually small lessons or little tips that I find useful every now and then. I guess my original idea was that the convention was supposed to leave me with a big lesson or idea with which to implement into my life. Maybe by thinking about this, and the different meanings behind the events themselves, is the lesson?

As for the Brick Cascades event, all I know is that it is purely for me to marvel at the impressive sets, and for me to check out all the different Lego sets and creations around the floor, and there are tons. I will do some analysis and some posting of pictures in Part 2.