Day One: Portland to Foothills of Mt. Shasta

357 miles.

Left Portland at 830, arrived at this little cabin on Old Stage Coach Rd at 4:04.

Stopped for gas at the Flying J in Rice Hill. $3.69 per gallon.

Lunch at Heaven on Earth.  A very nice, crispy salad and a chicken pot pie which ended up being more like cream of chicken soup in bread bowl. I did not eat the bowl.

I’m waiting to get gas in Redding tomorrow. Weed, the nearest town posted $4.89 which was cheaper than anywhere prior.

As for Weed, the town: I stopped to get some fruit and something for dinner at the only grocery store, Ray’s. Prices in this town are very high, which is more than sad because the entire downtown is shuttered with broken glass windows, only the two dispensaries and a thrift store showing signs of patronage.

Eight years ago I stopped in Weed and ate a wonderful lunch at a cool little bistro under a hip looking hotel. I thought, “Well, Weed is finally happening. Glad to see it. The timber industry needs a challenge.”  The bistro is no more. The hotel seems to be residential housing for the denizens of downtown.  And from the look of things, the timber industry isn’t doing too well right now, either.

So of course there are Trump signs everywhere–here in “the State of Jefferson.”  Hope dies hard in Red country despite how he’s tanking the economy even as I write this with the markets tumbling. Oh, I think the blowhard is making a speech about now. I can’t bear to look at him or listen to him. I’ll read the text later.

As for the day’s drive, yes!  Everything fit.  My packing template paid off and I managed to cozy the things together while still maintaining my sight lines.

Here’s a view from the back looking inside      tidy, eh?

Now, when we get to the driver’s side, which opens onto my clothing box and hanging things,  it ain’t so purty

But if we look back inside from the driver’s seat

Then, if we just look to our right at the passenger seat area

Crowded. Still, there’s a system and it works.

Speaking of systems, I bought an inexpensive black shower curtain to use as a cover for the things in the back. When you glance through the window you just see darkness. I’m hoping to dissuade any lookie-lou’s with sticky fingers.

Okay, where was I?

Right. It took two hours to haul everything out into the car, pack it up, then cover it.  I needed a cleansing shower afterward, which I’d planned on taking anyway as part of my ritual of leaving on pilgrimage.

31 minutes just to get from my driveway to the Terwilliger Curves.  Another 45 to get through them, then pretty good speed despite the torrential rain all the way to Salem.

A peak of blue sky carried me to Lebanon area, where the wind made itself known with a roaring gust which almost made me swerve out of my lane.

Wind continued through Brownsville area where it let up just in time to see squadrons of geese filling the sky on their way north.

A huge red tail hawk swooped overhead as I caromed along through Eugene, and the rain descended again. The sight of a pure white ARK sitting in a field just north of Goshen  didn’t seem so out of place.

Through the valley  into the Flying J for gas.

Truck stops are a whole other world, one which I will have a chance to experience in more depth once Pearl is in tow.  Suffice to say, the place was hopping.

Back on the road and back into heavy rain.  All the way through Roseburg and into the hills. Over the hill, so choked with trucks in both lanes that extra caution was necessary.

Leg stretch in Talent, where I also sneaked into the locked bathroom of the McDonalds for a friendly wee.  Had a bit of walk around the huge outdoor mall parking lot fringe to stretch my body.

Over the Siskiyou Range, snow still on the ground on the side of the road. Trucks still owning the road.

Down the loooong stretch into The State of Jefferson, where the border fruit checking station was unstaffed and closed. We know why.

Finally, Mt. Shasta broke through the clouds past Yreka and the sky cleared for a gorgeous view.

I made that stop at Ray’s in Weed for dinner items, then found my way into this gorgeous place in the woods at the base of Mt. Shasta.  The mountain feels huge and powerful.  Here’s the view out my window:

I chose this little lodging because of its proximity to vortex energy.  The owner has been here a long time and takes it all quite seriously. Which I appreciate. He put together this detailed information guide which is packed with the kind of information you don’t find in the tourist shops of Shasta Town.

I’m going to step outside and breathe some of the cold, clean air which I hear whooshing through the trees, eat my humble traveler’s grub, then read this manual in preparation for my outing tomorrow.