Day trippin' with Billy Pilgrim

June 25, 2025

So let's start this new journal by backing up and picking up a few missing days of this whole maddening episode, when it became apparent that we were about to enter a new land, a Terra Inferma like I'd never experienced before. Let's call this strange new world Madlandia, a place every bit as strange and alien to me as it felt when Rocky and I landed in Japan years ago.

These first few days occurred before this this new journal was conceived, but let's yank 'em forward to where they logically belong and give what little coherence we can to this confusing, maddening period.

We've gotten a bit in arrears with all the going mad and everything, but let's take some ground by combining two very similar days with some verisimilitude to 'em and bunch them up in one tight bale, keeping the wheat and letting the chaff be gone with the wind. Other things of note happened at this time and remained unreported, but we'll just cover the bikin' and hikin' parts for now, take another bit of ground, and come back for the rest later. Plan? plan.

Wednesday, June 25: the Columbia Slough / Leif Erickson Drive

So in some way this is a perfectly normal Portland layover day. The weather is fine out, we have our reasons for not biking together today, so Rachael is off for another twelve miler out toward Leif Erickson Drive / Balch Creek for another exploration of an area she seems to enjoy more each time she heads out that way. And no wonder - it really is a fine area, as long as you're not caught short a long way from home with an unrepairable flat tire, as happened to me a few months ago.

She heads out in that direction on a regular basis now, so she doesn't take any photos today and there's no need to clip in essentially the same map again. Trust me that she did it and you don't need to see the evidence to believe me. She's a walking monster, just like my sister Elizabeth.

And the reason we're not biking together today or tomorrow either is that both look destined to be two of the hottest days of the summer so far, scorchers that will top out near 95F before we finally start seeing some relief on Flag Day. Not a biking day for Rocky unless she gets out first thing like I'm gonna do this morning unless there's no choice, because even if she gets up early she needs her morning fix before she's coherent enough to exchange much more than a grunt and a nod in my direction on her way to the can. And after that she likes at least an hour for digestion to work its way so she's less likely to be frustrated trying to find a little privacy for herself at a critical moment. That's Rocky's number one concern on a long walk, and she tends not to hydrate enough to not at much risk of exposure. We'll, that's not quite true: it's her number two concern, closely following her personal safety.

So no, Scooter. No ride for me today, nor the next day neither. Let's call the whole thing off for the moment. These boots are made for walkin'. Boots, start walkin! she sez, but not quite right away because she's still in a wait mode.

Me though, I'm taking this opportunity to head out to Kelly Point for some early morning birding. A recent eBird report submitted from KP duty at around seven AM reported at least seven or eight species I haven't seen yet this year - woodpeckers, sapsuckers, thrushes, warblers. Jeepers, there's even creepers mixed in with those other peepers. Surely I'll snag a new one or more for the list if I'm out at the right time.

I'm northbound today so I pick Harder Day, the eastern half of my new cuplet pair I'll stop in at when I'm heading north up Williams. I'm really enjoying this new pattern of waking up early and getting a few miles in to start the day. It's really been the pattern of much of my adult life, when I'd bike to work from wherever I was living at the time. For years the day would begin with me coming in from somewhere in the south end and then coasting down the soap box derby track in Bush Park. The pattern broke when we moved to Portland, but it's starting to feel like the natural way to start the day again now, and brings back many memories.

And just look at that clean, reasonably coherent paragraph, written almost two weeks after this day actually occurred, because that's not where my head was at the time. It was already starting to rev up a bit, and it's hard for me now to recapture what was happening at that time or to trust my own memory of it. I don't think I was aware of how strange I was becoming, and how quickly I was spiraling out of control. I imagine I was starting to scare some folks.

And the spiraling had already begun, though I haven't taken the hints yet: those cramps the night before, the swelling in my feet that make it tight putting my shoes on this morning, some digestive mischief that no one needs to hear about. Something's happening here, but what it is ain't exactly clear yet.

The view to the east this morning, one of the rewards of being up at dawn. Were just a few day past solstice here, an event I didn't think to observe at the time. Days are getting shorter already and we're just beginning the long slide toward winter. Whee, Tucson here we come!

There's a school of scullers rowing their way south under the Steel Bridge this morning, sweeping upriver like so many water striders.

There is probably a lot to say about the day, but I'm just going to highlight a few things in the interest of time and because I'm so unsure of the actual narrative. It's taken me quite a bit of effort just to confirm the sequence of events and what happened on which day. I don't think I'd be sure if it hadn't been for the camera roll helping out by dating the images.

In any case, the day started by me bonking my head on a utility box when I cabled the bike to its pole. It's the same spot I locked up when I came here a few days earlier, and I whacked it then too, coming and going - as will happen again today. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. Fooled again? You must be crazy!

I hang out there for an hour or so, having a nice chat along the way with the friendly server on duty, likely talking too much and making her a little nervous though she was kind enough not to show it. When I left I whacked my head for the fourth time and just started laughing. How many times will it take before I remember to step back at this spot? As I bend over a little further while I pack my gear away I softly whack the box three or four times more, soft little tinkles that I imagine as a church bell dampening into silence. And that makes me laugh too. Suddenly, almost everything is starting to feel like one big joke and I fantasize that for the first time I'm getting a sense of what the Laughing Buddha is endlessly chuckling about.

I'm sorry this photo came out so poorly. I should have had the smarts to step to the side and shoot again with the sun at my back, but my sense was temporarily knocked out of me by bashing my helmet against that utility box every time I reached over to lock or unlock the bike. I'm a very slow learner.

One of the appealing things about Harder Day is that the site doubles as a bakery, offering up a tempting tray of tasty treats to start your day with. I've been looking for a new spot to pick up an occasional morning scone ever since Umbria quit carrying them.

It's a smooth, easy, generally fast ride from here to the slough, but today it goes slower because conditions are radiant and I take my time to admire them, beginning with this patch of lavender and the unlikely sight of an adult flicker calmly sitting on the sidewalk across the street. See, it really is worth it to step out the door earlier in the day once in a while.

Southbound on Williams. Who needs Provence anyway?

It was startling to get such a good shot of this flicker, just a few blocks from the coffee shop. I hadn't even unpacked the Canon when I first saw him standing inert on the sidewalk across the street from me.

Looking east up the tracks along Columbia Boulevard. I'm not sure I've noticed before what a good view of our big neighbor we get from here.

I'm surprised when I finally get to the slough to see that I'm not alone. In fact, I'm in the middle of a long group of birders biking my way with a birding expert leading them. At times they'll make an attractive show, a long serpentine slowly following the curves of the slough ahead of me, stopped and bunched up here and there with their cameras or binoculars out looking across the river at something.

I'm in frequent contact with this crew for the next quarter mile, me threading past them or them past myself, making commentary about the day and the birds. Is that a barn swallow, one asks? No, I think these are all cliff swallows. You'll see their nests under the overhang of the bridge up ahead, I tell them, pleased to have realized that myself recently and to feel confident enough to share the knowledge.

Throughout all this period I've had the GoPro on, and it was revealing when I reviewed it later. It's actually quite funny, because it's a windy day and the lens cap that dangles from its leash when I've got the Canon open and ready for action keeps getting blown up front and repeatedly hangs down in the middle of the frame.

A placeholder for the video we can't put music to because we're still under attack by rhe Apple Bonkers.

Sound track: another zshade of Grey, by Susan Werner

The revealing thing though is that in this short period of time there are four different instances of me telling someone that I'm sightless in one eye. Excuse me, I didn't see you there, I'm blind on that side. I take it as a healthy sign that it's been at least two days now since I've spontaneously called some complete stranger's attention to this. Part of this is that I'm actually quite a bit calmer now than even a few days ago, but I think mostly it's because I've made so much progress at adapting to my new condition. It really doesn't seem particularly exceptional any more, and really not much of a limitation. It's just me, no need to apologize or explain. Just as I no longer aim to pour milk or sugar into my coffee cup but pour it off the backside onto the table instead because the absence of depth perception tricks me.

Bit by bit, I'm inching my way into mastering my new life as a one-eyed Jack. It's not a dull one, that's for sure. And I'm nearly there - a few more red and gold points and I'll have earned my Life Masters in Monocularism. Hey Rocky - let's go check out the tournament schedule and take a road trip!

I observed a pair of egrets several times on the ride, and probably took a few dozen shots of them at different spots. They're like great blue herons, tantalizing subjects that catch your attention over and over again.

You can already see how quickly the snow and ice are being stripped off under this arid summer. Compare it back to that recent view from Rocky Butte, for example. It will be interesting to check back for a final glance before we leave for London next month.

I bike as far as Smith Lake before doubling back. Birding was quite good given that it's midsummer, but by midday they're all in hiding because it's getting too hot. Time to head back and meet up with Elizabeth for a visit and a cold drink. We have a lot to catch up on - she shares with me her trip up to Port Angeles with some friends to participate in a relay race, updates me on dad's status, listen to me ramble, reminisce - and here I have to stop and admit that I'm confused about what happened here and what came up in our first visit, or if there were actually two.

Throughout this entire experience I feel like I'm Billy Pilgrim, unstuck in time. I'm confused about what day it is, about what happened when, and often startled to find out where I am or how what feels like a twenty minute task actually took several hours. On the way home I decide to cut across the freeway and bike south on Michigan instead of down Greeley for some reason, and am surprised when I come to a spiral overpass I don't ever remember biking across before. What turn did I miss, and how did I get here? I have to stop and check the map on my phone to be certain of just where I am.

Where the hell am I, and where is this leading me? I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

In any case, I remember this visit as one of the best we've ever had, us chatting back and forth for nearly three hours, talking about our childhood, our similarities and differences, nature versus nurture, and of course about all of this strange stuff happening to me right now that

. I'll have to check back with her again and see how she weathered the storm.

Back in the 'hood, heading toward a cool one.

Sharing tea and an NA with Elizabeth at Via Delizia. It's powerfully warm this afternoon, but feels pleasant out here under the shelter of the umbrellas.

We broke off finally since she had to go back to her apartment to ready it for guests - it's her month to host Game Night; and I have to get back home myself and clean up for dinner - I was late getting back from the slough and met with Elizabeth wearing my bike clothes and sporting a three day growth, and probably more than a bit ripe from biking home in the 90+ afternoon.

Dinner tonight is at Gallo Nero again, one of the best choices for us now because it's an easy reach when we don't have a car. She walks over, I bike over, we share the usual fine meal, and then we walk/bike our way back so she's got an escort protecting her from the baddies and frightening folks of the world, me leading or following her whistling Someone Who'll Watch Over Me, a tune I don't think she recognizes because she didn't grow up in a family of songsters like I did, although I never really thought of it before all this madness occurred and opened my eyes to myself a bit.

Keeping it safe at Gallo Nero. Rachael is just the other side if the glass, startling me by rapping on it to let me know where we've been seated. At first I thought it was someone objecting to me parking so close to their cherry ride.

Back at the apartment, I went out on the deck and started writing about this fantastic image that gradually emerged as I biked home on that sweltering sunny afternoon. I gave birth to Prednisone Dreams on that day, sprouted from a fever dream in more than one sense. And I particularly wanted to get down what I conceived of as its physical structure - a great, sprawling tree of life, growing straight and tall up from a colorful mandella layered with beech leaves, with a complex multidimensional crown from which dangle long tendrils it representing the lives of others.

Pretty crazy, when you stop and think about it.

This overexposed shot almost captures the radiance of the rooftop garden below and across the street from us.

Thursday, June 26: the Columbia Slough / Leif Erickson Drive

Well, changed my mind. The next day is structurally pretty similar to this one, but let's scrap the plan of combining them into one neat package. Better that I should put some shrink-rap on this one and ship it out. No need to get sore about it though. No sense both of us leaving here mad.

Today's ride: 25 miles (40 km)
Total: 25 miles (40 km)

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Steve Miller/GrampiesWow, what a difference a day (or a week or two) makes. Scott is pretty much back.
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2 days ago

Scott AndersonTo Steve Miller/GrampiesYes, but probably not back to where I once belonged. There've been some changes made.
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2 days ago

Andrea BrownWas this the day that you talked about Aldous Huxley? That's the day my eyebrows raised and I thought, hmmmmm.
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1 day ago

Karen PoretAt least your sentences are starting to make more sense, and the errors in grammar and spelling are fewer.. It’s another start, Scott :)
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1 day ago

Scott AndersonTo Andrea BrownYes! After I quit moping around about my tree of life I started in on this wild creation and was still steaming away late into the night. I'm still quite happy about that post, and plan to copy it across the wall and publish it as an entry in Cortisone Dreams as another window into what this period of time has been like. I was so relieved to have saved this work at the time, not like at least two other small but similar books I spewed out but actually did lose completely.

I'm glad it survived, both because it's a window into the experience, but also because but for all but the typos, repetitions, and so on, it's pretty much a true story about a crucial time of my life.
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1 day ago