Portland 2019: A Jaunt to California

Last week, Zach unexpectedly got five days off in a row, and we seized the opportunity to take a road trip down to Sacramento to visit his grandparents. We threw some clothes in a suitcase and hit the road on a sunny Sunday morning.

When I looked at our route on the map, I vaguely registered that we’d be passing through Ashland, Mt. Shasta, and Castella: three resupply points on the Pacific Crest Trail. What I wasn’t ready for, though, was that when we drove through them, and I recognized buildings and natural features, I got bulldozed by emotions. Reliving two weeks of intense, humid, vivid, demoralizing, bear-filled hiking over the course of two hours was a sensation similar to my life flashing before my eyes. I leaned against the hot window and tried not to cry too much as wave after wave of emotion crashed in succession. Cars are too fast, I thought. Everything is too, too fast.

Nope, Mount Shasta.

However, the barrage of emotions ebbed away as we left countryside that I recognized, and after a few hours we found ourselves in the Sacramento Valley, rolling past endless orchards of almonds (buzzing with bees shipped in from all over the country to pollinate them), olives, pistachios, and various mystery trees, as well as clay-like mud fields soon to be full of vegetables, and flooded fields growing rice. The mountains in the distance were blue, fading to green in the foreground, with the yellow of wildflowers and orange of California poppies flashing by along the roadside, creating a rainbow of color.

At last, aching and stiff, we pulled up to Grandma Kathy and Grandpa Ray’s house, and they welcomed us inside for grilled cheese sandwiches.

We spent a wonderful three days with them, mostly talking, watching TV shows and movies, eating good food, and petting their adorable cat Carly. We also got a chance to go bird-watching at the nearby Cosumnes River Preserve, where I saw an American avocet for the first time (I was ridiculously excited), we spotted a red-tailed hawk building a nest on a radio tower, and waterfowl of all kinds congregated in pairs, gaggles, and dozens. 

Grandpa Ray and Zach checking out the California poppies

We helped them do some yard work— pruning trees means something different in California!

On the fifth day, it was time to say goodbye, and although we were sad to leave, we were grateful for the unexpected chance to visit. On the way home we bought some local olives and olive oil, drove through torrential rain and ice pellets, and made it home in one piece. It was a whirlwind trip, but a fun one.

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