South of the Border

Don't be fooled by the date.  The events described in this entry take place on 9/08/10.  The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

As the previous night had ended, so did the current day begin: lots of fitful naps.

I believe the name of the rest area that I had spent the night parked at was the Schrag Safety Rest Stop, if anyone is trying to keep track of where all I went.

It was around 7:00 in the am, I believe, when I decided to head out once more into the world. 

Eastbound and down; south on 21 was the next step that I gave myself.  For whatever reason, I decided that I was going to pass through the Tri-Cities before going to Oregon.

The road I was traveling south along was relatively uneventful  It headed just about due south with no real change in direction--until the signs pointed to Lind.

Now, I should mention that Lind holds a special place in my heart.  You see, I was running low on fuel--or rather, my truck was--and I figured a sprawling metropolis like Lind would have just the refueling ticket.  I was very nearly mistaken.  And I didn't say that special place in my heart was good, either.

The tiny town of Lind had one (obvious) gas station.  It was a Pacific Pride, and I know that those are commercial fuel stations.  So, upon seeing that one, I kept right on truckin'--thinking to myself that there would have to be another one that the regular Lind-folk could use.  After all, if Lind had an industrial district, the Pacific Pride station was situated right in the heart of such a district.  The downtown was at least a half block eastward.

Suddenly (and without warning), I found myself outside of Lind.  And worse, the space was growing.  The gas light had been on for several miles, and I believe it indicates a range of about 10 miles at the time it lights up. 

It was a moment of truth.  I was a mile outside of Lind at the turn to head south.  Would I risk another town in the next 5 or so miles south, or would I head back to town and see how the Lind-folk do it?

In my mind, the decision had already been made, and that was to head back.  It wasn't long at all before I was right back in the thick of Lind, early enough in the morning that nothing was open yet.  They had a coffee shop that advertised 'now with Wi-Fi!' that wouldn't open until 9:00 am.

I continued on, back toward the Pacific Pride.  My heart was lifted greatly when the station came back into view.  There were average, unmarked sedans next to the pumps.

Rolling up and shutting the engine off, I eagerly got out, thinking that there must have been some kind of exception for small towns like that.  I was wrong.

One of the cars drove hurriedly away.  I assume there had been a driver.

There was a woman who had just finished fueling her own vehicle.  She looked at me curiously as I tried to figure out what needed to be done to get the gas from the ground and into my truck.  I did learn something that I found interesting, though.  At least, with that particular Pacific Pride, there was a tiny sign indicating that membership was free, you just had to mail an address to have them send you a card.  Ah, modern convenience.

As the curious woman was about to enter her own auto-vehicular transport, she gave me the most helpful advice I received that day.  She told me there was an unmanned Ranch Petroleum station another block west.  She asked me if I could see the cargo trailers by the train.  I affirmed.  She then told me that the Ranch Petroleum was north of there.  I thanked her heartily as she got into her car and drove out of my life.

It was up to me to find this Ranch Petroleum.  And find it I would.  Did.  Tenses in story-telling can be confusing.

Except for the fact that the station was unattended, I was actually surprised that it accepted credit.  Now, I know that some who read this may not be so shocked, but I was really amazed by this incredibly unassuming little refueling station.  It makes our gas stations seem all metropolitan and ostentatious by comparison.

That.  That right there.  That was the gas station.  And half of it was for 'farm grade' diesel.

My mistake, there was a pop machine propped up against the western wall of a nearby building.

Here's what this place looked like from about halfway to the road (I decided a somewhat contextual picture might be nice--and since I have it, I figured I might as well share...):

The next hour or so was really uneventful.  There were some neat clouds that were about as the sun climbed higher and higher, mustering the strength to push those clouds aside.

Then I saw a sign, and it opened up my eyes.  Sonic Drive-In.  Pasco.  Finally, I had a reason to go to the Tri-Cities.  Well, one of them, anyway.

I've always heard that the drinks and ice cream are the real draw for the Sonics.  Unfortunately, I was there at about 9:30, and settled for some kind of fancy, can't-get-this-in-my-town kind of breakfast burrito.  And I've got to say, it was fairly delicious.

After that, it was time to move on.  Head south and west.  That was the plan.

I didn't really notice it when it happened, but I found myself in Oregon.  The main difference there?  Their wind farms were actually operational.  In Washington, I had seen a couple of wind farms, but maybe only one or two turbines in each were actually turning.  Oregon demonstrated almost the opposite: I think I saw two wind farms (maybe two parts of one larger one?), and in each, only one or two turbines weren't turning.

Next up, I stopped at a rest area.  The previous night's series of unfortunate naps caught up with me, and I needed to rest for another short while.  So, I did.

Nothing major transpired between that point and The Dalles.  I did realize that I hadn't taken any pictures with my regular camera, yet, and thought that odd.  So, I stopped at a scenic view point and took a few.

It was at that scenic viewpoint (before The Dalles) that I took this:

I arrived in The Dalles a short while later and drove around for a bit.  I was supposed to meet up with a friend whom I'd met in college but only seen once since, but there were still a few hours before that.  It had been 6 years since the one time that I'd been in that city, and I was trying to remember my way around.  Personally, I think I did a fairly good job.

Anyway, I got a message a little while later from my friend who said they were in Hood River and to meet up there a little later.  What that meant for me, however, was taking the scenic route.  And also stopping to take pictures of the wind surfers.

When I saw this conflagration, I thought how great it would be to have this image captioned with something like this: "See how the rare wind-surfer fish returns to its hallowed spawning grounds, doing its twisted dance and displaying its bright colors in an effort to attract a suitable mate."

As I continued heading westward, a few messages were exchanged in an effort to plan out the evening.  I had been considering camping that night, but when my friend offered me the couch, I couldn't resist.

After I got there, we went for pizza at a place across the river in Washington.  There, I was introduced to pear and goat-cheese pizza.  It was strangely awesome.  Then we went for a drive to the various hot springs along the river to the west of there, then back to the apartment where we watched an episode of some show where a guy eats (what we think of as) weird foods.

My friend went to bed, so I set my rechargeables to charging, took a shower, then went to sleep my own self.