Saint Johns Bridge to Forest Park and then downtown

Woman approaches me

I started the day by walking from my house in North Portland to the Saint Johns Bridge. Along the way to the bridge, before exiting my neighborhood, I grabbed an espresso and read the newspaper. It was here that a very unusual thing happened: a woman approached me and complimented my appearance.

She put it in a female way that sounded like she hadn’t thought it through (acted with purpose). She said, “I like the way you did your hair today.” She seemed to have trouble making eye contact and was a bit nervous (or so I grasp in retrospect).

I almost didn’t know what was happening. I had buzzed my hair, down to the metal on the clippers. It was a home haircut like I do every week.

I responded with humor, saying I started during the Great Recession and never stopped (“Are haircuts still $14, cuz I’m not made of money!”). After an insubstantial exchange in this vein she walked away a bit awkwardly and said she hoped I had a nice day.

I realized later on that she was inviting me to take control, to ask her if she would sit down and enjoy this moment with me. I could have asked her for her name, number, etc. but it didn’t occur to me at all.

I didn’t understand or seize the opportunity because the event was so unusual. But next time I’ll be ready.

LSD and thick wet snowflakes

I finished reading the paper (this was a month ago when the novel coronavirus was an abstract issue affecting only distant cities in China). I crossed the Saint Johns Bridge and then entered Forest Park and the Ridge Trail.

I took one tab of LSD and started a many-layered psychedelic sojourn that was threaded upon the physical one.

One highlight was a rain shower that had thick, wet snowflakes. There is something special about what others call “foul weather” because it makes close-in urban places empty out of people and seem more vast. I was prepared for the weather with a jacket and boots and a plastic bag for my phone. I enjoyed the sounds of the raindrops on the muddy puddles in the trail. I checked out the moss and lichen and Doug firs. I hallucinated spider webs radiating from white stringy objects, which seems to be a theme for me.

I followed the Leif Erikson Trail and reached the Northwest neighborhoods and then continued across the Broadway Bridge and then north on Vancouver Avenue, west on Killingsworth, and then home via Willamette Boulevard.

I could have stopped for a sandwich or drink but I liked being self-sufficient. It turns out this would be good practice for the weeks ahead. During the subsequent weeks I would venture out and pass by innumerable closed shops and cafes and restaurants. They were all closed due to coronavirus precautions. This would soon become the new normal.

Biking to Waterfront Park

On another day, deeper into the global pandemic and the local precautions implemented in response to it, I biked down Vancouver Avenue and across the Steel Bridge to get to downtown.

The cherry blossoms (I think they are actually crabapples) were in full bloom and many people were there capturing photos despite the virus precautions.

I breezed through this sunny and beautiful stretch and crossed Tilikum Crossing for the first time. This is a Portland bridge that has no vehicle traffic, only cyclists, walkers, runners and a streetcar.

I took the East Bank Esplanade north and marvelled at the people trying to get exercise and sunshine in the shadow of a loud, polluted highway. Somehow the city and state are moving to widen this highway. We ought to be tearing it down.

Man approaches me

I biked back to North Portland and sat down on a bench overlooking the Willamette River on the University of Portland campus to finally relax and read my book. I had not read The Magic Mountain in six years and I was revisiting it. I was a few chapters in, almost where Hans and Clavdia fucked at the end of Walpurgis Night. But I didn’t get a chance to open the book.

First, there was a mother nearby with two teenage boys. One of them called the other boy fat. And this provoked an angry and consequential response from the mom, who chastised the offending sibling and then took them all home, allowing no more play.

Second, before I could open my book, a friendly man in his mid 40s to mid 50s (I’ll ask him sometime) rolled up on his bike and joined me on the bench.

He chatted me up about who I was and what I was doing and where I was from. It led to what I have to admit was a good conversation, touching Mesopotamian myths, the solar eclipse of 2017, news obtained from social media, sex, forming friendships, and other topics. He had lost his job due to the halt in the economy from coronavirus precautions. He didn’t like that job anyway, he said.

Over the course of an hour and a half he made no effort to conceal his growing infatuation with me. He told me again and again how I made him feel relaxed and how he felt good around me. I had my binoculars and was pointing out bald eagles, crows, wrens, jays, and hawks. He told me I was perceptive and smart and good looking and that I “seemed to attract animals and nature.” He said he loved connecting with someone who shared so many interests and who made him feel good.

I felt friendly attraction to him also. This is partly because you tend to like a person who likes you. But he seemed like a genuine good guy. I will text him and we’ll connect over a hike, a bike ride or at the gym (he may join my gym once it reopens after this virus pandemic is over). He’s already texted and called and left voice mail in his eagerness to nurture our connection.

A bike to Smith & Bybee Lakes and Chimney Park

I spent one of my days off biking to this wetland that’s only a few miles from me.

I observed:

• Spotted towhee

• Great blue heron

• Northern flicker

• American coot

• Song sparrow or fox sparrow

• Swallows

• Turtles (Painted?)

• Bald eagle (eating a fish atop an electrical pole)

• Mallard

• Canada goose

• Garter snake with red flanks

• Hooded merganser

• Dark eyed junco

• Yellow rumped warbler

• Raven

Coarse call

Group of a few

I saw them soaring, which crows do not do

• Green winged teal

• Downy woodpecker

• Tiny little gray bird

• Frogs calling

I think the ravens were flying around playing a game among the aspen trees. I wish I could follow them and understand how they spend their time.

I asked a couple of other people with binoculars and we agreed there was another species of turtle besides painted turtles sunning there. They were too huge to be painted turtles.

Hiking Dog Mountain with friends

Against our civic-minded judgement we ventured out to a busy weekend tourist destination and hiked.

I don’t regret it. This is the last time we could do such a thing for the foreseeable future.

It is a popular place but surprisingly challenging. We took the difficult trail up and the easier one down, but it was all strenuous. My companion was tired out and cranky in the beginning, perhaps from the constant coronavirus talk and the drinking she did the night before and the fact that she was hungry. She also fell down for no reason while just standing there and cut her hand.

I was fine with the frequent stops for her to catch her breath because it gave me a chance to check things out with my binoculars and rehydrate and snack. I gladdened my companions with the snacks I had brought (hard boiled eggs and a banana/peanut butter/honey tortilla) and they returned the favor with a LaCroix and mixed nuts.

The hike was very pretty. The temps were in the 60s and it was sunny. I was glad I brought warm clothes for the windy and fresh ridge we reached that had a pretty vista of the gorge. I watched two ravens eating food that a sloppy eastern European extended family of 20 people had left behind.

I was struck by how large the ravens were and by how they glided and soared in the strong wind. Their features are quite different from crows if you study them. Their brow and beaks are thicker and they behave like larger, more intelligent and more coordinated hawks.

My friend’s woman friend is a catch. She is attractive, almost has a master’s degree, is 28, and was picking up three pet rats from a seller (that night, in fact). She said she is not on online dating, which I like. I would like to see her more. But I will not start hitting on my friend’s friends.

Still, there was good humor and banter among us over sexual and relationship matters. I have no fresh stories to give them, but I got a lot of good info from them and joked along. Some of it was along evolutionary biology lines. One thing that struck me was when she said she “Should have fucked a guy visiting from Italy based on the hot women I saw he was dating later on.” This points to the female sexual strategy of “mate preselection,” where a woman prefers a man who already has many attractive female partners. An exactly opposite preference operates in most males.

Another interesting tidbit was when my friend (who has fucked a lot of guys) told us how she liked big loads of semen because it meant she had done a good job. I won’t speculate on the evolutionary aspects of this (that kind of thing is pure conjecture) but I will say that I appreciate her open take on things. She is someone who does not fear the collapse of pretense, because she does not tiptoe about in life fearing the collapse of pretense. I have a lot to learn from her about reducing fear and promoting self-acceptance. I want to be genuine and to project my genuine self and she can help me with this.

In the second half of the hike my friend was in a much better mood. I think it was because she was hungry and I fed her.

One thing I liked about today was how squared away I was. I had no problem getting up that mountain despite its difficulty. This speaks to the all-around fitness I have and my general physical preparedness. And with only an hour and a half notice, I can pack a daypack, hop in the car and have a great day trip. I even looked good as I did it, with light clothes transitioning to warmer layers as we got higher up. It’s great to be ready for anything and to have the time to do it now that i have no 2nd job.

Since I had driven, my friend bought me a quesadilla and lime Jarrito’s at a food truck in Stevenson, WA.

I checked out a Columbia Slough natural area near my workplace

Because of virus precautions, the city seems more clean and safe and interesting. There are fewer shitty diesel pickup trucks spewing pollution. There are fewer vacant, bovine stares from drivers when they look up from their fast food and smartphones as they rocket past you. There is less of an exhaust fume stink hanging in the air, everywhere, all the time.

As a result I checked out a natural area near my work. I knew that a section of the Columbia River Slough passed through the area near me. What I did not know was that there was a narrow passage (through private property) where I could slip through and sit and enjoy a small bit of nature during my break. It was extra quiet because of the economic halt.

During this small break I saw a great egret, a hooded merganser, a northern flicker, and a great blue heron. I also heard some frogs calling.

A coworker of mine was astonished when he learned about the hooded merganser sighting. He had seen the bird in my desktop daily calendar and thought it was an exotic species. When I told him I had seen one only a block away, half an hour previously, and showed him the photo on my phone, I could see the gears turning in his head. I hope I helped him to see nature and animal species in a new light.

I will return to this place for lunch breaks. I may even take a coworker along.

I biked to the Lower MacLeay trailhead of Forest Park

This was a rainy and gray excursion. I don’t mind because it meant I didn’t have to slather my pasty Norwegian skin with sunscreen. I was layered up for warmth and I was well-provisioned with water and mixed nuts.

I took Vancouver Avenue south and checked out the trailhead. It was uncrowded. I biked through downtown Portland and marveled at the clear streets. The city is a very pleasant place when there are fewer cars.

I brought my phone along and so I learned in the middle of my journey of the death of a friend of my father’s.

This friend of my dad’s was a vital man, full of energy and warmth. My dad said it was hard to imagine a man like that ever becoming weak and dying. Yet in the past ten or 15 years he did exactly that.

He was surrounded by friends and family and was comfortable in hospice.

My dad is a pastor and a bishop and has been present for many deaths. But this man (Jim) was the first close friend among his age group to die. It’s much closer to him now. My dad was friends with Jim for 47 years. I learned a bit more about their friendship via my dad’s texts. It’s time to again give my dad some support.

I visited Oceanside, OR and enjoyed this little town on the Pacific. It was a perfect day trip because we went prepared with firewood and other comforts to stay warm as we watched the sunset.

The skies were clear and as the tide went down a new beach seemed to open up to us. Gooey bits of jellyfish were strewn about. The caves and rock walls were thick with mussels and barnacles and other sea creatures. Some of them hung out on a stalk and slowly retracted when poked. Others were more like living blobs.

As I tested my new binoculars I was really surprised to see a colony of dozens of seals resting on one of the giant rocks a quarter of a mile out. I could see them moving about and jostling for space.

I met a deaf-since-birth dog named Beethoven. Some dog breeders pursue specific traits at the expense of the genetic health of the breed and of individual dogs. That happened to Beethoven, who is beautiful but deaf. To get him to drop his ball, you point down to the ground because shouting will get you nowhere.

When the sun set we got a hot fire going and had hot dogs and s’mores. I saw the winter constellation of Orion and noticed it was lower and lower in the sky as spring finally arrives. Good riddance. We used a sky app to identify Venus and the phase of the moon and to trace the ecliptic. I felt connected to sky and sea and marine life.