Wherever you go, there you are. It’s true.
But, depending on how you get there, you don’t need to think about certain things.
For example: the work you chose to leave at home, on the living room table, under a pile of junk mail.
We took the less-beautiful, but faster, route up north.
First, the best thing about (peripherally) celebrating a religion with a religious minority group is that nobody is on the road, or at the store, after 9am on a Thursday. (*Edit: Okay, I re-read this and realized it’s not true; the best thing about celebrating on the periphery is actually that you get to learn about other people’s cultures, etc etc etc…. but other than the feel-good stuff, the time-off is pretty darn awesome too.)
I had my camera to document this, otherwise I wouldn’t have believed my own eyes. This is the reality that bartenders, strippers, and other night-time employed-people get to experience — a totally empty Trader Joe’s at 10 am.
The next 3 shots are the new section of the Bay Bridge. B took them after I frantically shouted out a 10-second rundown on shutter speed: “Turn the dial! The dial on the top! No, the other one!” B did a pretty good job, given the stressful circumstances. (And given the fact I just learned how to use a DSLR myself…the blind leading the blind!)
Some people drive over this bridge everyday, but it was a trip to me. I’m so used to the old bridge. It was an out-of-body experience for sober people: “I’m driving over the bridge– no, I’m here, looking at myself driving — no, I’m driving somewhere else.”
We drove down Highway 80 as the sun got higher in the sky…..
This was our first rest stop, about 2.5 hours outside SF…. I have no idea what this town was called, but this rest stop featured “Broaster’s Chicken.”
I remember “Broaster’s Chicken” at the rest stop because it looked so much like “Breaster’s Chicken.” Which would be either an all-white-meat store, or a seedy strip club diner.
Next is a photo of Lake Shasta. Er… excuse me… next is a photo of the body of water near the sign that read “Lake Shasta.” I’d like to assume it was Shasta, but the last time I actually stopped and visited Lake Shasta was when I was 6. So I can’t say for sure if this was it.
Passing Weed, CA. Hmm…. why do you think I took a photo of this sign, which is of a random town I’ve never visited? Hmmmmmm…….
This was my favorite part of the scenery up Highway 5. I tried 5x along the way to capture the clouds, and these were the only ones that showed up. Aren’t these bad-a** clouds?
Here is a glimpse of the rain that was to come when we entered Ashland, OR. And our last glimpse of hay-colored ground before the blanket o’ trees over Oregon.
You know you’re in Oregon when you start to see hellllla trees.
Yay, Ashland! You know…. Ashland is closer to SF than I think of it as.
California is so huge that different states seem like entire countries away. However, it took us the same amount of time to drive to Ashland as it did for us to drive to LA.
Also, it is POURING in Ashland. And all I brought was a bunch of shorts. I’m a Californian – doh!