To Be Back
I am living in a dream come true, sitting in Oregon at 6 AM on a Wednesday morning. The Pacific Northwest.
My first time to Oregon was on business in the middle of July 2020. I remember being on a flight that was jam-packed, wearing N95’s because it was the height of the Covid pandemic.
Driving away in my rental car I marveled at Mount Hood painting the backdrop of a sky that was dusted orange and purple from the setting sun. I had a podcast playing, relishing the stark contrast between the Pacific Northwest and the familiar East Coast landscapes I had known all my life.
That first trip to Oregon lent many mornings waking up at 5 AM, throwing on a jacket, and heading for a 3-4 hour hike before meeting up with my friend and then-business partner to meet with people he had scheduled for me. I would hike a different trail each morning, each Oregon mountain I winded through more beautiful than the last. I’d come back to my hotel to a warm complimentary breakfast, and sometimes I would stop at a coffee shed (if you know you know) for a hot latte on the drive back.
In the cold July mornings, I would watch fluffy white clouds parting as they drifted past mountain tops. I would feel my hands go stiff and numb with cold as I sat atop overlooks on benches, reading a book or listening to a gospel song, admiring the beauty that was spread before me.
My first trip to the Pacific Ocean was equally as memorable. I had to climb a steep dune mountain to overlook the vast Pacific before me. It was foggy day and the wind blowing from the ocean was cold, making my legs go numb (I wore a dress to the beach, completely unaware of the chilly weather of the Oregon beaches compared to the scorching heat of Virginia’s). Even though the fog was thick, I raced down the dune to touch the Pacific, my first time ever touching and seeing this magnificent ocean.
I visited a lake so large I could barely see the other end of it. Boats raced across as little waves lapped at the shore. I had found a small beach where I sat on a log and planted my feet into the cool lake waters, absorbing the quiet and the calm, a profound spiritual transformation overtaking me.
I visited a sprawling outdoor Saturday market and made friends with a poet and a baker. I talked with sculptors and seamstresses, musicians and painters. I wandered around eating gluten-free chocolate cupcakes.
I wandered the small coastal town of Florence, acquainting myself with the peaceful rhythm of life that permeates the Pacific Northwest.
Today I am here, on a week-long solo trip to Oregon. Today, I sit with a breve bought from a drive-thru coffee bar on the outskirts of Portland, watching the sun rise. The good thing about Oregon is the whole region wakes up the same time my east-coast-set brain does. So when I am wide awake at 5 AM, the rest of the world is too.
Three years have given way from crunched business deadlines to following the peaceful ebbs and flows of life. I come to Oregon not in search of business partners, clients, or money. I come to experience the Oregon coast, Mount Rainier in Washington, and all the lessons the mountains and the forests of the Pacific Northwest have to teach.
This journey is an opportunity for deep introspection, a chance to encounter the next version of myself. Returning to the state that has lingered in my dreams for the past three years feels surreal, and I eagerly anticipate the experiences that lie ahead.
I can’t wait.
My first time to Oregon was on business in the middle of July 2020. I remember being on a flight that was jam-packed, wearing N95’s because it was the height of the Covid pandemic.
Driving away in my rental car I marveled at Mount Hood painting the backdrop of a sky that was dusted orange and purple from the setting sun. I had a podcast playing, relishing the stark contrast between the Pacific Northwest and the familiar East Coast landscapes I had known all my life.
That first trip to Oregon lent many mornings waking up at 5 AM, throwing on a jacket, and heading for a 3-4 hour hike before meeting up with my friend and then-business partner to meet with people he had scheduled for me. I would hike a different trail each morning, each Oregon mountain I winded through more beautiful than the last. I’d come back to my hotel to a warm complimentary breakfast, and sometimes I would stop at a coffee shed (if you know you know) for a hot latte on the drive back.
In the cold July mornings, I would watch fluffy white clouds parting as they drifted past mountain tops. I would feel my hands go stiff and numb with cold as I sat atop overlooks on benches, reading a book or listening to a gospel song, admiring the beauty that was spread before me.
My first trip to the Pacific Ocean was equally as memorable. I had to climb a steep dune mountain to overlook the vast Pacific before me. It was foggy day and the wind blowing from the ocean was cold, making my legs go numb (I wore a dress to the beach, completely unaware of the chilly weather of the Oregon beaches compared to the scorching heat of Virginia’s). Even though the fog was thick, I raced down the dune to touch the Pacific, my first time ever touching and seeing this magnificent ocean.
I visited a lake so large I could barely see the other end of it. Boats raced across as little waves lapped at the shore. I had found a small beach where I sat on a log and planted my feet into the cool lake waters, absorbing the quiet and the calm, a profound spiritual transformation overtaking me.
I visited a sprawling outdoor Saturday market and made friends with a poet and a baker. I talked with sculptors and seamstresses, musicians and painters. I wandered around eating gluten-free chocolate cupcakes.
I wandered the small coastal town of Florence, acquainting myself with the peaceful rhythm of life that permeates the Pacific Northwest.
Today I am here, on a week-long solo trip to Oregon. Today, I sit with a breve bought from a drive-thru coffee bar on the outskirts of Portland, watching the sun rise. The good thing about Oregon is the whole region wakes up the same time my east-coast-set brain does. So when I am wide awake at 5 AM, the rest of the world is too.
Three years have given way from crunched business deadlines to following the peaceful ebbs and flows of life. I come to Oregon not in search of business partners, clients, or money. I come to experience the Oregon coast, Mount Rainier in Washington, and all the lessons the mountains and the forests of the Pacific Northwest have to teach.
This journey is an opportunity for deep introspection, a chance to encounter the next version of myself. Returning to the state that has lingered in my dreams for the past three years feels surreal, and I eagerly anticipate the experiences that lie ahead.
I can’t wait.
Pictured is Mount Hood, taken from my window seat on our descent into the Portland airport. 7/11/2023.
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