Fred crosses the Columbia River into Washington, hitting Astoria too late for the maritime museum and stumbling into Kite Festival week.
040817.0905 — Berry Patch Restaurant, Ocean Park, WA
I blew out of Portland and up to Astoria, arriving too late to visit the maritime museum, which sounds interesting; did pause to consider the fact that multi-millionaire (that was impressive back then) John Jacob Astor founded the town at the mouth of the Columbia, known as the “Graveyard of Ships” for the hazardous Columbia Bar; and later perished on the Titanic on an entirely different ocean. It would be entirely too obvious to report my results of trying to get a campsite at the Cape Disappointment State Park; I wasn’t aware until I passed through Long Beach that this is kite festival week.
Kinda cool, even though it made accommodations more difficult; actually I didn’t have a bad time, I drove through town and lots of really really ugly trailer parks with wall-to-wall motorhomes, out to Anderson’s north of town which looked the same, but they found me a space back in a little grove of trees near the entrance to the camp that was very nice and very private and relatively quiet except for traffic on the highway nearby, which I promptly ignored. Had an inexplicably tasty Mexican dinner in town, took a walk on the beach and boardwalk where the kites had been.
Which brings me here. I haven’t had a lot of success cooking for myself — even to the extent of opening cans and warming — I think because I prefer to sit somewhere I can have a little interaction with people. That, and despite a cabinet full of canned food, I don’t seem to have all that much that’s appetizing to me — that’s what happens when I clean out my cabinet and camping boxes that are filled with foods that sounded good when I bought them but I never bothered to eat then, so why should I suddenly decide to now.
Burning Man starts in just under two weeks; am thinking I may get there Saturday or maybe Sunday evening.