When Portland was announced as the host city for 2008, both Lynette and I were excited because we both had never been to Portland before. Lynette was even more excited because she had never been to the state of Oregon either which meant there was one more state she could cross off her list. I had crossed Oregon off a couple years back on a wild, spontaneous road trip.
Prior to coming to the conference, Lynette decided to get very ambitious. When doing research for the trip, she happened to discover how close Portland was to the Washington border. Washington was also a state that she didn’t have checked off her list. In her mind, she couldn’t check off one without crossing off the other.
So our story begins on a rainy Saturday evening in Portland where that ambition was about to become a reality.
“Heather!” Lynette excitedly said as she caught me in the hotel lobby. “I was just talking to a lady at the information desk and she gave me information on how to get to Washington.”
“Ya! What did she say?” I asked while holding back what I really was thinking. I was hoping that it was really complicated so we wouldn’t have to go. I had been there before. I had no need to go through great lengths to get to Washington. Maybe I wouldn’t have go. I mean she did bring five other people with her. Odds are one of them would want to go right?
“All we have to do is walk a few blocks to catch Bus 6 and stay on it until the last stop, Jantzen Beach.”
I waited to let her continue, but she didn’t. “Is that it?” I asked.
“Yeah. The lady said that it would get us there,” she said as we walked to our next workshop.
We parted ways as people were starting to file into different conference rooms.
I found a seat and started to process what I just heard. I was low on energy. This was the last day of the conference. I worked the seven o’clock shift for the service crew, stayed up late the night before for the Euchre tournament, and had no desire to go outside to face the continuous drizzle that the Portland weather had to offer.
As the day rolled on, I didn’t think about Washington. I was too busy trying to cram more initiatives, games, and other debriefing ideas into my head in workshop after workshop. Information overload arrived just in time for dinner as the last workshop came to an end.
As I walked to the rendezvous point with some of the other IWU people that were in my last workshop, the topic of discussion were the plans for the evening. As I listen to what was being discussed, I realized that no one was talking about going to Washington with Lynette.
The time for me to step up had arrived. The Adventurer code could not be breached. I saw my responsibility clearly. As a fellow adventurer and as a friend it was my job to embark on this journey to Washington. The excitement switch was turned on.
As Lynette and I sat on the Bus 6, we really had no idea where we were going or how long it would take us to get there. Fortunately, knowing our ticket to Washington was the last stop, I allowed myself to relax.
Our conversation flowed through many topics, giving both of us a chance to decompress all the information we absorbed; and how we each could see it being incorporated into what we do. The movement of people in and out of the bus kept us aware of where we were and added to the conversation now and then.
As the bus merged onto a highway, I knew we were getting close. In prior research of the event, both Lynette and I discovered that the Oregon and Washington border was formed buy the Columbia River. Although much of what we were watching pass by was covered by darkness, I thought that the crossing of a river would inform us of our location like Chimney Rock on the Oregon Trail.
“Hey, it looks like we are passing over a river,” I said as I poked Lynette to get her to look out the window.
“Welcome to Washington!” Lynette replied with a big grin.
The bus arrived at its final stop, Jantzen Bay. As we got off the bus, I took in our surroundings. We landed in a shopping center with plenty of restaurant choices. I was happy that Lynette touched down in Washington but getting some food in my stomach was becoming the main priority. But first we had to commemorate this event. We needed to find a sign that said
“Washington” so Lynette could get her picture taken by it.
“Let’s take our picture by a Washington licenses plate,” I suggested due to the quick and easy
factor plus I was beginning to notice that this mall parking lot didn’t have much else to offer. It took little convincing as both of our stomachs began to communicate their need.
As we walked toward a restaurant, I glanced at my bus ticket to see when our latest departure time was. Ten o’clock. I looked at my watch to mark the time of our arrival. 7:32pm. Time was for once on our side. We found a place to eat and began to enjoy a nice leisurely meal.
Time began to slip away as we ate our meal. The time came to head back to the bus stop. As we headed back, I noticed a Ross department store. After living in California, I feel in love with Ross stores, which are relatively nonexistent in the Mid-west.
“Hey Lynette, do you want to stop in Ross before get back on the bus?” I asked glancing at my watch.
“What time is it?”
“8:27. We have time. I bet it closes at nine.”
“Let’s go,” Lynette said as she started to jog across the parking lot. I matched her step.
* * * * *
“Attention all customers, the store will be closing in ten minutes.”
“Lynette, are you about ready to check out?” I asked as I stood with a few items in my arms ready to head to the front. She confirmed my question with a nod and led the way to the register.
“I am going to use the bathroom before we go,” Lynette said as she finished paying. “Will you watch my stuff?”
“Yeah sure, go ahead,” I replied as the clerk began to ring up my items.
Throughout my time in Portland I noticed that Oregon doesn’t have any sales tax. As I always do when I shop, I had a rough guess of what I was going to have to pay without knowing what the sales tax was. I looked at my total on the little credit card machine.
“There isn’t sales tax here either?” I asked the guy behind the counter as I swiped my card and waited for the signature screen to pop up. The clerk hesitated in his response. I looked up to see a slightly confused face.
“You are still in Oregon,” he replied.
“Oh.” I calmly replied as I signed for my purchase. “Thank you,” I said as a passing thought. I collected my things and headed to the door to wait for Lynette. I stopped and turned to ask one more question, “How far are we from Washington?”
“Not very far at all,” he replied as he pointed in the direction of Washington.
“Okay, thanks,” I answered as I looked in the direction he was pointing across the store.
“Still in Oregon! What? Lynette was not going to believe this!” I screamed in my head. Laughter immediately followed as a big smile formed across my face.
“So, I have something really interesting to tell you,” I said to Lynette as she made her way back to the front. I try to stay calm, not to give her any clues of alarm. We exited through the doors just as the store was starting to close up for the night. Once we were out of the store I stopped walking.
“Lynette, we aren’t in Washington. We are still in Oregon!”
It didn’t take long for my words to sink in. “What!?!? You have got to be kidding me?!?” Lynette yelled.
“Nope,” I replied noting how I was smart to waited to tell her until we were outside. I filled her in on what the clerk told me. “So, what do you want to do?”
“What time is it?”
I looked at my watch. “9:03 and we have to catch the bus before 10.”
“Let’s go through the mall to see what is on the other side. That is the direction he pointed right?”
“Yeah.” I said as Lynette picked up speed. Our fast walk soon became a slow jog as the time pressure was starting to sink in. After cutting through some stores, we made it to the other side of the shopping center. The only thing we saw was more stores.
“Now what?” Lynette asked more in the sense of thinking out loud instead of searching for an answer from me. Nevertheless, I suggested “There are some people over there. Let’s go ask them. They look pretty harmless, but we are going to have to slow down to more of a casual walk. They are going to think we are going to try and attack them.” We slowed our pace as the gap between us began to decrease.
“Excuse me,” Lynette said. The couple stopped and turned toward us. “We were wondering if you could tell us the quickest way to get to Washington.”
“Sure,” the kind lady said. “Just go out the parking lot, take a right and head to the light. Then follow the signs for I-5 north.”
“Oh,” Lynette said realizing they thought we needed driving directions. “We need the fastest way by foot. We don’t have a car. Could you possible take us in that direction?” Did I just hear her right? Lynette has always had more guts than me, but that was a big more. The couple explained that they weren’t from Washington and kindly suggested we head over to Barnes and Nobles to see if anyone could help us. We thanked them for their time and started the sprint across the parking lot.
* * * * *
As we exited Barnes and Nobles, I glanced at my watch. 9:13pm. The clerk inside told us to go to an intersection down the road and look for a bike path that would take us across the bridge, a bridge that he termed as “pretty long”. I had no idea what “pretty long” meant, but I was beginning to feel the time pressure. Mentally I was preparing for my physical endurance to be tested.
We ran down the road and found the intersection. With the two small lights on top of the bridge in view, we knew we were going in the right direction.
“I am not seeing this bike path,” I said to Lynette in between gasps for air.
As we slowed our pace to a brisk walk, I kept looking around for any signs or clues to where we should go next. There were a few hotels on the other side of a fence that ran next to the road.
“Let’s hop the fence and go ask someone in that hotel over there.” Lynette said.
“I am not hopping that fence, Lynette. Let’s keep walking down this way to see if there is anything up there.” I surveyed the area. “ Hey, there is a gate. Let’s try that.” We made it to the gate only to find it locked. At this point, I was getting ready to jump over the fence. I was about to say “let’s do it” when I saw a highway security car pass slowly under a street light.
“I am going to take that as a sign that we should keep moving,” I said to Lynette as I pointed out the car.
As I veered away from the fence I noticed a small beaten down path that looked almost like a deer trail up the road a little ways and to the right. As I followed the path with my eyes, I saw that it head right toward the bridge.
“That must be it over there!” I yelled to Lynette with excitement and a bit of relief. Our pace picked up again as we climbed up the embankment toward the bridge. As we worked our way up, I was beginning to become leery of whether or not there was enough room to put a walkway next to the road. Sure enough, as we reached the top, there it was.
No more obstacles were in our way. Our goal was in sight. Now it was just a matter of crossing the river. However, the guy in Barnes and Nobles was right. It was a long bridge. As we began to speed walk, I began to notice a few other features of the bridge I didn’t care for in our current situation. The first being because the bridge was over a long distance, it was built with a slight curve to it. Well, to the eye it was a slight curve, the way my gluts were screaming at me at this point it could have been a mountain. Also, the only thing separating us from the road was the outer structural reinforcements. Due to the lovely misty/rain that was falling from the sky combined with the water that was being hurled at us as cars zipped by, the surrounding moisture was beginning to set it.
As we rounded the top of the arch, speed walking wasn’t going to cut any more. It was time to run. As the shores of the state of Washington became larger and larger, I noticed a sign on the bridge that said, “Welcome to Washington”. The natural high that comes from the simple things in life began to set it.
Lynette forged ahead as I stopped to take a picture of the sign that brought a sense of accomplishment. As I caught up with Lynette, I found her standing on her piece of earth that we had worked so hard to get to.
Like reaching the summit of a mountain, the long awaited moment was relished for mere seconds as the journey back became the new focus. 9:32pm. Now, catching the bus back to Portland was the only thing fueling my engine.
* * * * *
“I can’t believe we made it!” Lynette said with great delight as we approach the bus stop.
“9:47,” I said as I marked the time. “Time to spare,” I managed to say as I exhaled. I leaned forward and put my hands on my knees. My lungs were feeling ever second of the last fifteen minutes. I stood back up and began to walk around. I whipped down my hood as the trapped heat under all my layers was looking for a rapid escape. Like a fresh breeze on a hot day, the mist that was so annoying before was nothing shy of heavenly.
The bus driver opened the doors and the small number of us that were waiting began to board. While savoring the cool night hair I began to work at fixing all of the pieces of my hair that were plastered to my forehead.
My physical exhaustion kicked in, as Lynette and I took a seat on the bus. Few words were said on the drive back to Portland. The smiles on both of our faces gave enough indication to know what the other was thinking.
As we walked back into the hotel, we were excited to tell of our adventure to the rest of Lynette’s crew. We caught the elevator as a few people were getting on. The doors closed and the elevator started moving up.
“It must be raining pretty hard outside,” one of the ladies said as she looked at Lynette and then over at me.
I smiled as looked down at my soaked jeans and the water slowly making its way down my rain coast. “No,” I replied as I made eye contact with Lynette. “We just went for a little run in the rain.”
On Easter weekend, I decided to head to one of the major attractions in the Arkansas Ozarks, Eureka Springs. This little town has a unique feel and layout. Woven into the hills, Eureka Springs has a culture of its one and is a big attraction for shoppers, honeymooers, and was selected by AmercianStyle magazine as one of the nations top 25 small art communities.
