Fall into Winter in the Pacific Northwest

For the first time since moving away from Portland in 2006,  I spent the fall and early winter in the Pacific Northwest.  Typically,  I'd headed south when the days shortened and the rain came.  Short, wet days aren't conducive to living in your car.  This autumn the rain held off, and I hung around, exploring the area that I grew up in.

One of my old stomping grounds.

A timber framed cabin my mom and her partner in crime built in the Columbia River Gorge.

Heating with wood during the cold snaps.

Chelsea at Point Disappointment.

Erosion a few hundred yards from the ocean in a dense forest on the Olympic Peninsula.

Dean stoking the fire on his outdoor wood stove.

Morning in my Four Wheel Camper in Central Oregon.

A cold streak in the Columbia River Gorge.

Everything you need,  nothing you don't.

36° and misting in  Eastern Oregon.

My dad checking out an abounded house in eastern Oregon.

Looking east from the Cape Horn Trail on the Washington side of the Columbia River Gorge.  For more photos, check out this album, Early January (Adobe Revel).  

Sarah during a break in the storm.

Breakfast nook.

It's almost February now and  ever so slowly, the days are getting longer.  Tonight it's supposed to get down toe the teens, I'm in the eastern Sierra.  Living in your car and waking up with sunrise and falling asleep shortly after sunset makes you attentively aware of the seasons and weather.  Maybe its the first snow, or the holidays, but this period of early winter is one of my favorites.

Here are some more links,

Ships of the Open Road (Pinterest),

Toyota Tacoma with a Four Wheel Camper Ute (Pinterest).

The Guarantee

"Sir, very fresh food.  Please come.  American?"

I looked forward and kept walking through the crowd in Marrakech's central square. If I acknowledged them in anyway, they would leave the security of their shop and follow me for thirty feet or so, carrying on about their products, value and track record.   They also tended to hassle a single person less than one walking in pairs so I walked a few strides ahead of Edge, my childhood friend and former roommate in NYC.

"Parlez-vous Francais.  English?  Very good Tajine.  Best in Marrakech."

I kept walking.

The square was pandemonium.  Swap out tourists and Moroccans with men and women clad in business casual attire and the scene resembled Bryant Park subway station circa 8:30 am on a Tuesday.   The combination of tourists taking photos of snake charmers with iPads and locals getting across town had me confused as to weather I was witnessing a tourist spectacle or a legitimate place of commerce.   Giving a group of middle age women walking around with syringes full of what I later learned was henna, a wide birth I kept on bearing towards a group of restaurants.  Edge was thirty feet behind me.

A group of men,  mostly locals, congregated in a circle.  Pausing, I stood on my tiptoes and looked over the four-deep wall of people to see two early teen boys with their shirts off wearing boxing gloves.  A referee/booky was collecting bets.  I stood and watched while the MC jabbered in a combination of Arabic and French.  This would be a twenty minute commitment, I thought to myself, and continued on.

As I approached the line of restaurants,  a group of salesmen came out and stopped five feet from their last picnic table as if limited by an invisible, electric fence.   My plan was to do a fly by and see which restaurant had the most non-tourist customers and go with that one.    Before I could finish, a man in his early thirties wearing a GAP Athletic T-shirt broke rank and came up to me.

"Guaranteed no diarrhea for the last two years.  Guarantee.  My word."

I burst out laughing and stopped dead in my tracks.  "How can you guarantee something like that?"

The man smiled with a look of success.  "For you sir,  I make very good price."

Regaining my composure,  I continued you on towards the last row.

Look behind him.

A brass bathtub.

So many dates.

Well Loved.

I've been using Adobe Revel to host and share my photos as part of their Ambassador Program.  Take a look at these photos from Morocco and more here.

Fishy.

Edge in Essaouira.

Cat power.

Loc' dog in the Sahara.

A 400 year old Riad in Fes.

Camo.

4x4's in Eastern Morocco.

"Your days are numbered"

Fully Loaded.

Hanging tough.

Marrakech.

As far as the eye can see.  Sand.

Threads.

OG BMX BIKE!

Nice marmot.

Essaouira.

Reaching the end of the row,  I stopped and waited for Edge.

"Did one of those dudes say something about no diarrhea for the last two years?"

"Yah...I died laughing."

"How the fuck do you guarantee that?" I asked,  hoping  to get an answer for the question that the man from the restaurant left unanswered.

"No clue.  Pretty bold claim."

"Certainly.  Which one of those spots do you want to eat at?"

Here are some more links,

Morocco (Adobe Revel).

Lot Lizards at Mt. Bachelor

The forced air furnace kicked on with a whir, blasting hot air into my camper. It was still dark.  Another hour or two until sunrise.  Laying back down I grabbed a pillow and covered my eyes.  Predawn light lit the camper and I pulled my upper body out of my mummy bag.  The high pitched chug of  two stroke engines bounced off a distant hillside as a crew of snowmobilers headed out into the backcountry.  Rolling over,  I opened the Velcro window and peered out.  It was clear, and probably in the low 20's.  Turning up the thermostat,  I slid into a sitting position on my bed and reached for my rubber boots.

Cracking the side door, I poked my head out and looked around.  Swinging the door the rest of the way open, I stepped down on to the hard packed combination of snow and ice.  A line of campers in various forms parked north to south against the snowbank.  Walking around the back of my camper,  I noticed a layer of ice underneath the curtain. "Must have been cold.. I haven't seen ice there before," I thought to myself.  In a few hours,  the Mt. Bachelor parking lot would be full of its fair share of Subarus and Volvos, but for now, it was empty.

Looking over at the back of Tim Eddy's camper, a Ford ranger wearing a Four Wheel Camper parked next to mine, I noticed the same ice on his windows. Tim is a professional snowboarder that lives in a 200 square foot cabin he made with his girlfriend in Truckee, California and often snowboards with crazy fleece hats.  Here's a photo of him in action.  Pulling my ungloved hand from my pocket, I rapped on the gold glass window.

"Tim,  you awake man?"

"Carpe CARVE Brother!  Carpe CARVE," Tim bellowed with his signature exuberance.

I broke in to laughs. "I'm going to get some hot water going in a few.  Want some coffee?

"I'm already working on my matte. Thanks though, I'll come over in a few."

Suited and booted.

Bryan Box and Austin Smith chewing the fat.  Check out their Drink Water project here.

Scotty warming up in the front seat.

Whitney built this camper out her self and has spent the better part of three years living in it.  It has a marine stove, bed for one and a 4x4 conversion.

The way to Mt. Bachelor.

For mote photos,  checkout Start of Winter on Adobe Revel.

Defrosting.

Shred sleds.

Kyle Shwartz and his Toyota Tundra with a Four Wheel Camper.

Alex Yoder and his Toyota Tundra with a Hallmark Camper.

Tim Eddy and his Ford Ranger with a Four Wheel Camper.

Scotty Wittlake and his Toyota Tacoma camper with an ARE top.

Whitney Bell and her converted Ford Camper Van.

The propane stove hissed on and with a flick of the lighter, the small blue flame illuminating the still dark camper.  Reaching for faucet, I filled the kettle and placed it on the burner.  The heat from the stove warmed the air.  Looking down at my watch to check the time, I noticed the date,  December 14th.  Today was my 750th morning on the road since August of 2011.  Time Flies. I thought to myself as I sifted through the a cabinet looking for my Aeropress.

"Rap rap rap,"  The side door of my camper vibrated.

"You in there Foster?"  Scotty asked.

"Yah man.  Come in and grab some coffee."

Here are some more links,

Start of Winter (Adobe Revel).

Coastal Lurking

I pulled off the 101 south shortly after midnight into the small community of Arch Cape.

"I bet if we park in front of an empty house and pop the top, no one will fuck with us.  It's a Tuesday night and if any one sees us they will just assume we are staying at the house.  Either that or we park on one of the logging roads, but those are mostly gated and the logging trucks get on it early."

Dozing in and out,  Bryan didn't respond at first.

"You dead mon?"

"Yess...lets do Jedi mind trick style.  Those logging roads are tough"

"Sounds good to me..."

I rolled down the street in first gear checking the driveways.  Only a few SUV's populated the driveways of the dozen or so ranch style beach houses.  Picking one on the ocean side of the street,  I pulled into the vacant driveway and turned off the lights but left the engine running.  The motion lights turned on a floodlight that illuminated the driveway but nothing stirred in the house.  The occasional snore emanated from the passenger street.

"Le's crash, I think  we are Kosher here."  Opening the driver's door, I unlatched the pop top and opened the back. Two minutes later and Bryan and I were in my camper setting up our sleeping bags. A light northeast wind tugged at the camper's canvas pop top as I settled into my sleeping bag.

"I'm setting an alarm for 6:35."

"Sounds good to me,  we'll get on it early," Bryan said switching off the LED ceiling light.

We both were asleep before pillow talk could start.

Caley watching peelers.

Guard dog.

North at sunrise.

Dog walking time.

Trevor's homemade camper.

Bryan watching the sunrise.

Duly noted.

Lurking

Cold and glassy.

Vanlife parking on the Oregon Coast.

Waiting of the tide to drop.

"The tide needs to drop a lot."

Making coffee first thing in the morning.

The thick wetsuit shuffle.

Low tide.

Scotty making breakfast.

Check out more photos from this series on Adobe Revel here.

Calling it a day.

Afraid of raising suspicion with construction workers working on houses on the street,  I woke before the alarm went off and laid in the comfort of my sleeping bag.  I dozed.  The propane heater kicked in and the electric fan whirred.  Looking down at the my iPhone, it was 6:30.

"Bryan,  you ready to rumble?"

"Yah."  Bryan was awake and looking at his phone as well.

"When's low tide?"

"Ehh let me check....8:41"

"Perfect. lets get the fuck out of my dodge.."

Jumping out of the camper like Spicoli in Fast Times,  I quickly latched the pop top down before hopping in the driver's seat.  "We're home free," I grinned to myself as we backed up and pulled out of the driveway.  The first suggestion of the sunrise dotted the coastal range to the east as we headed south on the 101.

Here are some more links,

Costal Lurking (Adobe Revel),

Bryan Fox (Tumblr).