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Eugene, oregon
As we drew away from what was the now familiar miasma, we started our decent into the Eugene valley. Coming away from the bog, the terrain turned into a dusty, volcanic-ash-like sand and gravel mixture. It sloped down sharply. We tripped and slipped down the bowl for what we think was about 3.7 miles, but the thick dust and ash clouds made it difficult to judge. I'm sure you'll agree, faithful and returning reader, that this was certainly an highlight of our trip. We only lost one and a half of us to the sand worms too!
Eventually, the ground leveled out, became more substantial, and quit smoldering. We came upon these weird logs that were stuck in the dirt, and they had bushes or something growing all over them. The ground next became very hard and black. We strode along the strange, logless corridor in the logland you see pictured below and on the left. And guess what, it lead right to the city! Well, we sought board, bed and brew so we could rest our weary souls. Passing a cloaked, withered old man on the outskirts of Eugene, we hailed the ancient fellow. Perhaps he could recommend a house of hospitality? When we approached, a hand that was boney and knotted drew back his hood, only to reveal that nothing was there. Sir, we said in unison, might you recommend a place of rest for all of us? "Ducks! Beavers! And a man with only ONE VIBRRAM!" He said in raising crescendo, "These are what are bad things! Turn back! Turn Back! Multnomah, Clackamas. BEWARE THE GLUTTON!" With the last words, he raised his arms aloft and an unexpected number of crows flew out of the neck of his cloak, and then he was gone. We thanked him kindly for the warning and we were all pleased to see that the locals were truly what each of our copies of Lonely Planet's Guide to Lane County described.
This brings us to the middle photograph you see above. We spotted an inn that promised beer, traveling provisions and sand worm salve on their sign by the road. (Our pace quickened.) We inquired within to know the rates and if there were any incense boutiques nearby. The inn maidens were happy to show us their sleeping equipment, as pictured, but were also rueful to tell us their inn was, "not for our type," as is also pictured. We next catechized other places of lodging along Motel Street. Some were full of inn maids, and only inn maids, and some were full of inn "maids" and only "maids." We roamed the streets of Eugene for weeks. Cold, hungry, drained, we were attacked twice by a woman who said that because our group was so orderly we were only perpetuating the oppressive norms. We tried to tell her that we didn't know anyone named Norm. But, as we speak in unison, in a low monotone, even though we don't intend too, she became even more infuriated and drove us away. We couldn't come by that way again! She sat cross-legged on the ground between two trees, swaying and humming. Ah, but we came out the victors. For, by driving us away from the muddy, smokey, heart of the city, we found exactly what we needed and hoped for. (The photograph on the far right.) Our accommodations for the remainder of our stay in Eugene.
We all rested for several days, taking three hour shifts. But soon enough we were ready to fully absorb the cultural mystery that is Eugene. And again the Great Wheel of Time was on our side. We were just in season to witness the celebration of the annual Bay Area Californian Migration! Every year hundreds of southern Californians move north hoping to make their way in the world—Putting up gates, letting bears live under their porches and looking for futile ground to grow cilantro.
The celebration would begin in only seven days. Everyone in the city worked tirelessly, preparing the special tofu elk burgers, porcupine soup, little foil hats for the children, and, the very special brewed gorp. Brewed Gorp is a microbrew prepared only by the city elders. The oldest codgers are gathered to mash up the mixture of equal parts Grouper, Orb-Weaving Spiders, Risotto, and Peanuts. The codgers then spit out the mash into a vat, where it is left to ferment until the festival. Paper lanterns were lit every night leading up to the big day. Children seventeen years old and younger would dance interpretive dance under the soft, flickering glow of the lanterns.
We ourselves were in for a real challenge though. You see, only citizens of Eugene proper are allowed to participate in the fun. We were told that if we wanted, we could become honourary citizens for the duration of the celebration. But we would have to be initiated by means of a test. We needed to accurately recreate the origin story of their people through costume and dance and shouting.
The celebration would begin in only seven days. Everyone in the city worked tirelessly, preparing the special tofu elk burgers, porcupine soup, little foil hats for the children, and, the very special brewed gorp. Brewed Gorp is a microbrew prepared only by the city elders. The oldest codgers are gathered to mash up the mixture of equal parts Grouper, Orb-Weaving Spiders, Risotto, and Peanuts. The codgers then spit out the mash into a vat, where it is left to ferment until the festival. Paper lanterns were lit every night leading up to the big day. Children seventeen years old and younger would dance interpretive dance under the soft, flickering glow of the lanterns.
We ourselves were in for a real challenge though. You see, only citizens of Eugene proper are allowed to participate in the fun. We were told that if we wanted, we could become honourary citizens for the duration of the celebration. But we would have to be initiated by means of a test. We needed to accurately recreate the origin story of their people through costume and dance and shouting.
So they say, hundreds of months ago, sea shrubs from the bottom of the ocean were washed many miles inland by a violent squall. Instead of withering in the hot northwestern sun like losers, those valiant, courageous, noble, strong-willed, beautiful sea shrubs grew eyes and legs and such—out of sheer desire to keep on keeping on—and over the next few months those shrubs put down roots. And highways. And sewers. And utilities and infrastructure. And their descendants became the foundation of what is today, Eugene, on top of which the city population now lives.
Upon hearing that stirring saga, we were moved, moved to something like being inspired. So we fashioned the sea shrub attire you see pictured above. After the approval of the garbmaster and her panel of third grade history teachers, we descending into the briny depths and waited. Once we heard the signal of the thundering drums, which represented the squall, we threw ourselves from the motherly arms of the mighty pacific ocean. Then we reeled to and fro like the sea shrubs ripped from their roots. Tension grew as we came to the most important dance of the story. Many of us were shaking. Some vomited in their masks. But together we let the beating rhythm of the drums, the salty taste still on our lips, the jeering taunts of the crowd, the promise of porcupine soup sink deep into our hazy minds. We danced the dance of remembrance. And we were done. We stood in the last positions of the dance, chests heaving, wondering if it was enough. Silence.
Then, the city historical society gave us each a brochure of Eugene neighborhoods, highlighting eateries we would now be allowed in, a weekend bus pass and an I Survived Eugene t-shirt. We had done it! And we only lost three of us to the sea and one to mountain bat bites!
Then, the city historical society gave us each a brochure of Eugene neighborhoods, highlighting eateries we would now be allowed in, a weekend bus pass and an I Survived Eugene t-shirt. We had done it! And we only lost three of us to the sea and one to mountain bat bites!
We were granted honourary citizenship so as to join in the event. If we were to keep our itinerary, though, we would need to be on our way. So we thanked the people of Eugene and said our goodbyes. On our way out of town we discarded our costumes, made of kelp and construction paper, in the dumpster behind the old Civil Rights Union's building. We regained our supply of powders and ointments and headed back to the tent. After we had packed away all of the sheets and pens, we left the customary salmon fillets under the pillows for the chamber maids to find. Outside, we buried some important things. Some important to be found and some important to not to be found.
Finally, off to the meat of our vacation—A tour of The Lane County Sheriff's Department! See you there!
Finally, off to the meat of our vacation—A tour of The Lane County Sheriff's Department! See you there!