Or at least my version of it.
Apparently, I started my trip in Mexico. I never once saw any of those forts.
Early last month I traveled to Oregon to be with my fellow bloggers and scrapbookers for a weekend of girlfriend bliss. You know the kind where jammies are required all day long? No makeup? No bras? No men? Alcohol?
Yeah…one of those weekends. We scrapbooked to our hearts content. We ate new food from recipes we love; we visited; we commiserated, and most importantly we laughed like fools. Or hyenas. I get it confused sometimes.
But while I was prepping for my trip (don’t even get me started on how little I pack to scrapbook), I thought that this would be a fun idea to do.
And then I forgot I had these photos on my camera. Doh!
Anyways….Here is my version of the Oregon Trail. I not only was main driver (the ONLY driver. Hell, I was the only one in the car!) but I was navigator as well.
Strap in and hold on.
Did you know that very few people use the term ‘bug station’ when referring to the California Inspection stations? I’ve used it before and if you’re not from around here, you have no idea what I’m talking about. Or…I really DON’T know what I’m talking about.
It could happen.
And this area will mark the highway closing down to two lanes. Two. Lanes. And I won’t see a four lane highway for hours.
Once through this bustling metropolis, I’ll need to turn. Left…I’ll need to turn left…somewhere right after Susanville. Don’t ask me the highway numbers. I’ll recognize it somehow. This is how I navigate.
Except for that one time I turned down a logging road. That was a bad choice.
Because it was a beautiful clear day, I knew I was going to see the volcanoes as I drove by.
Driving next to a cliff on my side. Taking picturesque photographs…and my life in my hands!
Coming up on another turn…again, I’ll need to turn right.
Thankfully, California Dept. of Transportation helps me out with arrows and names. I know that I will eventually pass by Mt. St. Helens. No…that’s not it. Mt. Shasta, so I turn here.
I’m going to have to get my ice scrapper out to tackle the bug guts soon. I don’t recognize the towns on the signage, meaning, I usually don’t go through those towns when I head to Oregon, but who knows?
Could be a short cut.
There is no shortage of grasshoppers in northern California.
I know this Sign. And if I wear an aluminum hat on my head, the aliens won’t grab me.
And yes, I pulled over to take this photo. Please rest easy now.
Yea!! Another volcano. I’m on the right road, unless it’s really Mauna Kea.
I pulled over to try to get a better shot of the beauty of Mt. Shasta. Of course, who knew that I needed to 10 feet tall to capture that beauty and not just stand next to the car?
And here begins the metal sculpture part of our road trip. A cow. And, bonus…I’m almost in Oregon.
Well, of course I run into road construction turning my high speed four lane interstate race into a meander up into the Siskiyous coughing on the diesel exhaust.
I almost missed the Welcome to Oregon sign. Maybe there won’t be so many bugs once I hit the state line.
I always get a chuckle that this is the highest point on I-5 and the summit’s elevation is still lower than the elevation I live at.
Between the drivers who have never traveled down this road and the freight trucks going down hill, the remainder of the drive down is more of a pay-attention-or-you’ll-die road. You’ll see huge tire marks all over the road so I pay really good attention. I do not want to add to those marks, or worse yet, BE one of those marks.
The rest of the drive is totally uneventful…green, green, green. And friends and wine at the end of a long drive.