On the Road to Portland: Travels with Jason

Michael Rosenthal
Mirror Publisher

Sunday, July 11, 1999. Portland, Oregon. Hot, Sunny, Clear skies, BBQ time.
   Last Wednesday night, my nephew, Jason, and I left Los Angeles on a 975-mile road trip to return our shared RV (21-foot Winnebago) to its summer home in the Northwest. Having to drive through the Central Valley during summer heat was not a pleasant prospect. So we chose to leave at night to beat the heat So did a lot of other people. The road north was jammed. America was on the move. Trucks mostly, big, huge semis hauling food from the valley to the big cities, and beyond. I forgot how impressive summer on the road can be. The muggy night, the bug-splattered windshields, the busy gas stations.
   Around midnight, I abandoned all personal discipline and stopped for a burger at Jack in The Box. Later, I stopped at a gas station and bought a Snicker bar and coffee. Ultimately, I resorted to cigarettes to keep me awake. Yuch. Finally around 2:30 a.m., I collapsed, sound asleep next to a huge semi-truck with its engine running, no matter to a tired driver. I was out like a light. Jason had fallen out hours ago. Now we both got to enjoy the deep sleep that comes from being road tired.
   The next morning (5:30 AM to be exact), I got us on the road again, in an attempt to beat some of the heat. It was a real barn burner in the valley that day. 100 degrees plus and our air conditioning was out. We had just passed our first major rivers, the American and Sacramento and the terrain was turning greener. By noon we had stopped at our first fruit stand and stocked up on plums, nectarines, cherries, pistachios and a hollow sounding ripe green Watermelon. 
   Chico State was our first major stop. We had hoped to swim at Bidwell Park (the nation's 3rd largest municipal park after Central Park and Griffith Park) but Chico Creek was being routed underground so as to clean the municipal pool. Just our luck. So we chose an air-conditioned breakfast spot named Mountain Thunder. It was to be the first of our BIG breakfasts. The potatoes were yellow finnish and sweet and buttery and we saved them for later. The college was one of the first established in the state, in 1895 and is ivy covered.
   It proximity to Lassen Park, Deer Creek (swimming hole to Ishi) and lush thick almond orchards was one of the main reasons I chose to live here.It was hot as heck as we moved north to our camping destination on the McCloud River near Mt. Shasta.
   So hot in fact that outside of Redding we had to stop and find our first real swimming hole of the trip. It was near Dunsmuir on the upper Sacramento River. Near the spot where 8 years ago a train derailed and polluted a 25 mile stretch of pristine prime fishing. The river has recovered nicely, it was clear as a bell and the beach we discovered was perfect for swimming. Definitely helped the day, as we cooled down nicely and were able to take a short nap under a huge oak tree. Jason's first swimming hole brought back some great memories of Northern California.
   We headed to Mt. Shasta, where we moved on to the pristine McCloud River flowing out of the dominant volcano in California. Checked out both of the falls in the area and took some gentle hikes through our first real touch of the Cascades. Lush and thick with clear clean water, flowers in bloom and lots of fishermen. Jason practiced his guitar and came up with a theme song for the Santa Monica Mirror—all about beaches, mountains, lifeguards, babes, the promenade and how our newspaper is supposed to reflect all of that. We'll see if City TV allows him on to perform it.
   Stopped in McCloud for breakfast and checked out the heritage museum and get our best view of Mt. Shasta. Then we departed for our trip over the Siskiyou pass and on to Oregon.
   But first we made the traditional stop on the Klamath river for a break of pistachios and watermelon.
   By this point we were dirty, hungry and road weary. We had traveled close to 600 miles, which, in an old RV can be rather bone jarring. When we came to the vista of Ashland our spirits rose, as it is truly one of the most beautiful landscapes anywhere.
   Everything seemed to change. The terrain was greener, the sense of place was different. We were no longer in California. This was OREGON. Yahoo, we made it..