Bellingham: Summer Recipe

North Cove : Lake Whatcom

Bellingham, WA

Summer Recipe:

- From the North Cove (pictured above) paddle board 25 minutes South to Camp Firwood on a clear as could be August evening. Set the temp to 74 degrees. Set the timer to 7:50pm.

- Hang out at camp all evening. Watch Center stage, ET and consume a serving dish sized bowl of Lucky Charms.

- Paddle board 20 minutes North on Lake Whatcom back to the North Cove on a clear as could be, starry filled August night. Set the temp to 64 degrees. Set the time to 12:15am.

Travel: The Hike

Clatsop County, OR

Saddle Mountain State Park

Imagine with me for a moment. Imagine you work in an office building. The tallest office building around. You are considered one of the lucky ones too because your office just so happens to be on the top floor. The very tippy top. Nothing above you. When other people in the building are asked what is above them they always say you are above them. You enjoy this man-made elevated work space. Your office is expansive and is very well decorated. Lots of lush plants and flowers, hardwood flooring, a little babbling brook runs through the center. You have a big oak desk, the CEO's former chair that he gave to you for "A+" work, the freshest and most crisp air around and wonderful art adorning the walls depicting nature at it's photographic best. When it comes to office accommodations, you have almost everything going right for you ... save for one minor (editors note: Major) detail. You have no view. The entire floor is windowless. No matter which way you look in your office, you can't see a darn thing. You know you are on the top floor of a very tall building, but you have no visual proof. The only times you get to see the pristine and seemingly limitless views of the building are when you come to work and when you leave for the day. And in order to see those views you have to take the stairs. You have to climb the whole way just to get a glimpse out of the few windows shedding light into the stairwell. But once you get to the top, where the supposed best views are, you are forced to sit and wonder what it all might look like.

That's what our hike was like. It was fun, a good sweat inducing challenge, it had some nice views on the way and many beautiful plants, trees and wildflowers. Overall, it was a worthwhile and enjoyable dash up a steep and tall mountain. But hanging over the top of said mountain, where the supposed 360 degree view was, lived a floating visible mass of condensed water vapor. Yes, a cloud. A cloud that limited our summit view to nothing. I could have stayed at home, put my head in a white bag and seen as nice a view as I did from the peak of Saddle Mountain. But I wouldn't have lost any calories. Oh those calories.

Travel: The Beach

Gearhart, OR

The Battlefield

It was on this beach that some of the worlds fiercest plastic army men battles took place. Pitting green vs gray, for hours on end my Father and I would engage in military combat WWII style deep in the dunes and beach grass of the Gearhart coast. Obviously I was always the diminutive green men, aka, the United States of God Bless America. My dad was relegated to battling with the grays, the hated enemy depicting the Nazi regime. These made for History Channel epic battles consisted of brilliantly strategic set-up, well planned out and executed attack formations and edge of your seat combat. We took our time mapping out our war plans then took turns sending imaginary volleys back and forth red rover style. Plastic men went flying. Sand exploded everywhere. Grenades broke gaps within the flanks of kneeling riflemen. Kamikaze tanks rumbled across open terrain taking no prisoners. Brave men crawled there way into enemy territory. Machine gun totting jeeps burst into action from their well camouflaged sand holes. We dueled back and forth until the gray army was no more. There were two reasons the green men always won. #1: USA. #2: I had well over twice as many green men as I did gray. Even though he was the wiser strategist and more knowledgeable general, my Dad unfortunately always took to the battlefield at a sever disadvantage. And as any good 7 year old military strategist would do, I exploited that disadvantage. For it was on this beautiful Gearhart beach that my dad taught me how to valiantly hold my own as a green army-men war reenactment commander.

...

He also taught me how to dig a hole in the sand and happily pee in public.

Travel: The Trail

Gearhart, OR

The Arduous Journey

The Beach cabin we stay in at the Oregon Coast is "on the Beach". Not California "on the beach" where you can literally throw your pet rock from the porch and have it land 20ft deep in the ocean. No, Gearhart, Oregon "on the Beach" means about 1/4th of a mile lies between the house and the soft, white-ish sands and the salty, freezing waters of the Pacific Ocean. In between the glories of the ocean beaches and comfort of the cabin exists a vast expanse of overgrown beach grass, sand, a few trees and more overgrown beach grass. Little trails carved out by the flip-flop toting feet of excited beach goers pervade through the great grassy expanse connecting civilization to the front porch of Western America. As a little child this distance was frighteningly long. As a spastic teen it was annoyingly inconvenient. Now, it's just part of the overall splendid experience.

Seattle: $3.50

There exists this profound little story about how sometimes we don't always get our way in life. It centers around our protagonist, me, not getting to stay home from school due to sickness because the antagonist, my mother, out-smarted me and called my bluff. In other words, I got parented. She somehow knew I wasn't indeed sick. But instead of just calling me out for being a snotty little faking lier and a disappointment to the family, she plainly noted how if I was too sick for school I was also too sick to attend my schools annual 50's dance that evening. Mom subtly went all in and all i could do was fold. If I had my way, I would have been able to skip out on school and still attend the dance that night with my friends. Instead, I got to go to the dance but also had to endure a day of public education. Moral: sometimes we don't always get our way in life.

This brings me to the picture above. You can see it depicts somewhat of a sunset off in the distance with the majestic 520 bridge featured prominently vanishing out over Lake Washington. I was hoping the sunset would explode and cover the sky in vivid, bright colors. It tried, but in the end failed to live up to my hopes and dreams. It was descent, but it wasn't what I wanted. Good thing I learned as a young child that we don't always get our way in life.