We left Seaside this morning and struck out through the mountains to Portland. It was really cold out, but at least it was dry. At least, the air was dry, my boots were still soaked from two days ago and all my gear is damp and smells like wet dog.
I thought I understood the term "hillbilly" before today, but clearly one cannot fully appreciate the term until one actually sees one. The entire 100 mile journey from the coast to Portland can best be described through the use of moving pictures and sound:
I am sitting in a Starbucks down the street from our next hotel drinking what is probably the worst latte I have ever had, which was served to me by the most stuck up crew of Starbucks employees I have ever run into.
The hotel we booked for tonight is apparently in the industrial section of Portland, directly across the street from a railyard.
It just keeps getting better, and better, and better...
