Monday, September 6, 2010

Kitchenpoet Is Back, But Not the Same

Wy'east High School Class of '65 at their 45th Reunion

Wowser! 45th!? Sometimes those years seem long, and other times short. My shirt states plainly the role I played and continue to play.

The lighted sign before this one said the wait for the ferry would be two hours, and that was an underestimate by half an hour. Waiting didn't bother me. I've seen worse, where the view wasn't near as grand, nor the air as fresh. It was worth every second of waiting. I had camped in the Chelan Wilderness, the night before, my first camping in three years. I had the foam pad problem solved, and slept comfortably. The ferry I waited for left Edmunds so smoolthly I didn't realize the trip had started, until I reached the deck.

Soon I was in Sequim, the lavender capitol, visiting friends. Three days later, two of us headed out to the point to meet another old friend, arriving by motorcycle, to camp on the Olympic Peninsula.

looking north

looking south

Charles, Dan and Irv

This old coot had a great time, and I think my friends did, too. Irv took this one, using his timer. 

I began to look for oddities, and found some interesting things. 

The first clear, close view of Mt Hood always takes my breath. Here is the valley I grew up in, etched by the river flowing from that mountain. 

For the 10th and 20th reunions, I was listed unable to locate, before I made it to the 25th  and 30th. Fifteen years had passed, since I had seen anyone other than best friends, and many I hadn't seen since high school. 

I'm still trying to integrate what I experienced, and it isn't easy. I touted Missoula as Paradise to people who lived in equally beautiful places, and returned to find Zootown wasn't as heavenly as I remembered. When did my favorite small city become so crowded and noisy? And where did all this dog shit come from? Wait, I know the answer to that one.

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