The Blue Blog: A Sweet Farewell to the Pacific Northwest

Before getting up to speed on our present existence here on Isla Mujeres where we are basking in the thick Caribbean heat and adjusting to a very different way of life, I can’t quite feel complete without wrapping up our last week in the Pacific Northwest. One of the things we often take for granted in the U.S. is the variety of foods available for any given meal. When a bunch of food savvy people get together for a potluck bbq, things can get downright excessive…in a good way of course. On a warm day in the North Seattle suburb of Shoreline, a few dozen people congregated for such an occasion which could have made a medieval king blush. We were celebrating the recent graduation of the host, Doug, and saying goodbye to Nate, who was taking up his anesthesiology residency in Burlington, VT. I hadn’t seen Doug for probably about six years and forgot how much I like this guy. A hardcore surfer, he was getting ready to depart for Nicaragua which gave me vicarious pleasure being that I’ve been a fish out of water for a couple years now.

Instead of just having a bbq, Doug, his partner Gea and Co. decided to throw a dessert contest into the mix. A panel of judges was recruited and faced with the daunting task of sampling and rating 17 desserts. I practically felt the onset of diabetes just considering this feat. The entries were all over the map from white chocolate croissant bourbon bread pudding to seven-layer bars to some sort of outrageous creation called Nipples of Aphrodite which had been mailed overnight. Somehow the judges managed not to die of sugar overload and elected Doug’s mom the winner for her chocolate bundles baked in a flaky dough. It was sweet tooth heaven for the guests as they could sample most of the desserts laid out in a little elf’s cottage. Blasphemous as it may have been, I didn’t have a bite as I was too busy filling up on seaweed and Asian cabbage salads as I clung to my dietary restrictions. Boring, I know.

Just down the street from where we were staying taking care of Jake the dog in West Seattle (who we miss), there was a restaurant called Chaco Canyon Café. This place was a health nut’s nirvana with vegetarian and vegan fare which actually didn’t sacrifice in flavor. Raven and I have always been enamored with the raw food movement but have never gone too far with it because it takes too much damn prep time and money to whip up a gourmet meal. So when we see options like raw enchiladas or raw pesto “pizza” at a restaurant, we’ve got to give ‘em a try. Dishes like this involve sprouting seeds and nuts, crushing them and rolling the mixture together to substitute for tortillas or pizza crust. Both of them were on the money and so visually appealing. It sure would be glorious to have access to high vibrational food like this all the time. Chaco made its own kombucha too with a different flavor of the day. This mushroom-cultured beverage isn’t my cup of tea but Raven loves it and this ginger-lime version was as good as it gets.

Seattle has some stellar restaurants but Portland’s culinary scene takes it behind the shed for a thorough ass whoopin’. However, when it comes to seafood, Seattle has the last laugh. Everyone knows about Pike’s Place Market with all its stalls lined up selling every form of fish and shellfish. Somehow it took us until our last week in town to discover the city’s other claim to fame in the realm of seafood Meccas. Uwajimaya is an Asian Supermarket on steroids with three different locations in the Seattle area (I’m shocked and disturbed to have just learned that Portland’s suburb, Beaverton, has one too.) This is the one-stop shop for most anything Asian and/or seafood-related all under one massive roof. The entry way has a small food court with offerings from all the main Eastern cultures. Then you walk into this mini-Costco of sorts which made our heads spin with a mindboggling selection of goods for cooking, living, gifts or otherwise.

It was a mission to satisfy a major uni craving which brought us to Uwajimaya. We have become serious sea urchin connoisseurs over the past couple years starting at the best sushi bar in the Santa Barbara area – Sakana. The thought of this, let alone the mustard-colored brain-like appearance – is surely something most people would rather live a long life without any firsthand experience. To us, uni’s seduction lies in its elegant, delicate flavor like a pure burst of oceanic essence combined with a creamy texture. Eyeing past all the affordable, sushi-grade fish (when’s the last time you saw a piece of ivory salmon?) which we would have an absolute field-day with if we lived up there; we snatched our sacred package of uni and made off like bandits. Later that night we savored it as slowly as possible, nestled in dried nori wrappers; almost every bite accompanied by moans of ecstasy.

On our way out of Seattle on a cloudy Sunday, we didn’t know exactly what to do. The plan had always been to camp near Mt. Rainier but the weather forecast didn’t look good so we were almost resigned to arriving in Portland a day ahead of schedule. Raven, bless her intrepid heart, called an audible just in time for me to swing Crystalina down scenic highway 12. Putting off any stress involved with preparing for our trip to Mexico, it was immediately apparent we had made the right decision. Listening to Phish, cruising along the White River, we passed a village of fireworks merchants with amusing names like No Finger Neal’s, Freddy Kaboom’s and Safe-Insane. I can only imagine what a madhouse that area is this weekend. It was early in the evening so we knew there wasn’t time to make it through Mt. Rainier National Park. Thank goodness for those little tent triangles on the road atlas to provide guidance when in doubt. Raven threw a dart at the Dalles Campground and we continued deeper into the hills.

After stocking up on firewood and a few supplies in a town by the euphonic name of Enumclaw, it started drizzling. The updated forecast said the rain would hold off but we were feeling just a tad bit wary. There would be some more sprinkles but the skies were merciful and left just a friendly reminder that this was the Pac NW after all. Arriving at The Dalles, we smiled at each other with the acknowledgement of entering another riverside camping paradise. We took an extended amount of time deciding on our site since we could. Site 34 won by a nose since it offered the maximum tree envelopment and a tent spot closest to the river bank. There’s nothing like going to sleep and waking up to that gurgling, frothing sound of a quickly-moving river. The site turned out to be even cooler than initially thought as there was this humongous fallen tree which laid over the river; allowing me to walk along its surface and enjoy some moments of contemplation with the water rushing inches beneath my feet.

Little did we know when Raven picked the Dalles, it was home to a historic landmark which is more than worthy of a visit unto itself. Walking to the edge of the campground, we crossed a little bridge over a tiny creek and found ourselves at the foot of one of the most gargantuan living beings we’ve ever seen. According to the sign, this was a 700 year-old Douglas fir standing 235-feet tall and an absolute you-have-to-see-it-to-believe-it nine-feet in diameter. There were burn marks evident a little ways up the trunk which reflected a massive fire that wiped out the surrounding grove 300 years ago. This explained why this Adonis towered over its neighbors. We both hugged the tree and felt shear awe being in the presence of something so old and deeply rooted which had stood steadfast in this grove while the world changed around it. Uplifting, positive energy emanated through the bark. I love redwoods more than the average guy, but there was something different and extraordinary special about this doug fir. Hopefully that tree will still be there 700 years from now.

Now that we can only drink bottled water here in Mexico, I have an even greater appreciation for the fresh mountain water we guzzled freely at the Dalles. After visiting the tree again the next morning, we set out for Portland, via Mt. Rainier National Park. A stone’s throw down the road from our campground, we were greeted by the 250-foot tall Skookum Falls cascading down a lush cliff side. We hoped this would be just one of many waterfalls to see on this ride but I guess there are several more on another pass which wasn’t open yet due to lingering winter weather. Ironically, it was also disappointing that there was no fee to access the park because we purchased an annual pass in Yosemite back in October and would have loved another punch on the card.

The climate around Rainier can be quite volatile which is why it’s rarely visible during much of the year. Whenever it appears in the distance from Seattle, we always stop and stare. Arriving at the first clearing, we pulled over to take in the breathtaking enormity of the peak under a cloudless, bluebird sky. From this intimate perspective, it actually appeared smaller and less imposing. Completely caked in the frosty, white stuff, it looked like a much larger version of one of the desserts from Doug and Gea’s party. Thinking of all that snow right now as I sweat in steamy Mexico is a very soothing image.