Life at Stacey’s, week one

February 7, 2018

The tour this journal is named for won’t start for a half a year yet. This is quite a consequential time for us though, and now that we have moved out of our home it feels like we’re on tour already. I want to remember the whole story of this time in our lives, so I think I’ll keep the journal going in the meantime while we’re waiting for the ‘real’ tour to commence. To limit the clutter a bit though, I’ll start grouping multiple days into posts, maybe publishing a new one once a week or so, and updating it with additional days as the week progresses.

Depending on your interests, you could follow along through all of this or just check back in September when we depart for Venice.

Wednesday: Powell Butte

This is our second morning waking up at Stacey’s. We made some progress organizing ourselves last night, and I did better today at finding my way around and corralling my gear. I’m constantly setting things down and then being unable to find them again because I don’t have a routine down. It’s disorienting and frustrating though to not be sure of where things are - here, still at the condo, or in our storage unit?

The experience has given me a different window into the lives of the city’s many homeless. It must be maddening for them to organize and shuffle through their belongings, stuffed into plastic sacks or piled into grocery carts. I’ve only gone through two days of this, and I feel half-mad already!

There are two film showings daily during the press screening phase of the Festival - a 11 and 2. The first showing didn’t sound interesting to us today, so we have time to fit in a morning ride. Rachael and I each plan to go out, but separately. I forgot to ask her what her ride plan was last night, but mine is to bike out to Powell Butte. First though, since I’m up before six and it won’t be light for awhile, I head back to Spielman’s for coffee and a bagel.

It’s quite cold when I leave, and very dark. I switch on my bike light, and am amused to see that the condensation from my breath looks like it’s getting vacuumed up into it - there is a very light breeze that blows it toward the light, and then it disappears into darkness again.

My dual purpose bike light/vacuum cleaner

I hang around Spielman’s until a bit after 8, and then head back to Stacey’s. Rachael is already gone, but it’s still quite chilly so I hang around the room for another hour before heading out Springwater to Powell Butte.

Ten miles into the ride, I discover where Rachael went riding - here. I spot her a ways ahead of me up the road, heading toward me on her return from Gresham. It always tickles me to stumble across her by chance like this.

It’s an incredible morning to be out - great visibility, no wind, not too cold. Mount Hood is huge down the path ahead of me. It looks likely to be amazing on top of the Butte.

About fifteen miles into the ride, I turn off of Springwater and ride through the neighborhood at the base of the Butte. Rounding a corner, I’m startled to see this gorgeous peacock lying on the grass. Then, looking around, I see nine others, all loose - walking on the grass, perched on a fence, up on someone’s front porch.

An amazing animal. The tail feathers extend far out to the left of the photo, like a glossy green bridal train.

As expected, it’s a perfect day to be on Powell Butte. It’s a great vista point, with good views of many prominent peaks near and far: Hood, Saint Helens, Tabor, Rocky Butte, Larch Mountain. The top margin of Adams is visible, and for the first time in my experience it’s clear enough to see the tip of Mount Jefferson, far to the south.

This is the first time I’ve been able to see the tip of Jefferson from here.

When I get home, I find Rachael in a bit of a state, stressed over the rush of contacts she’s had with our contractors, finalizing the renovation work in preparation for our condo sale. We leave soon afterwards for the afternoon film, which we find good, but disheartening - the third film out of five so far that focuses on Europe’s terrible refugee crisis.

This evening we walk a mile east to have dinner at the home of friends we will be cat sitting for next week. Unfortunately, I neglect to revalidate the address before we leave home, and I’ve misremembered their street. A mile from home, in the dark, we realize our predicament; we can’t find their house, and we don’t have their phone number either. Fortunately we do have their email addresses, so hopefully we fire off one to each of them: “Lost. Help. Please phone’. A minute later, we’re relieved to hear our phone ring -the evening isn’t ruined after all. We seem like a bad risk right now though - I’m not sure they’re wise to entrust their cat with us!

Today’s ride: 30 miles

Thursday: The Glenn Jackson Bridge

Today is another single film day for us. We’re on for the one at 11, opt out for the one at 2. The plan for the day is to bike over to the condo together, have breakfast at the Daily Cafe, take in a film, and then bike out along the Columbia afterwards.

It’s a cold, overcast morning when we leave Stacey’s. It’s only three miles though, so we don’t really mind the cold. After breakfast Rachael walks to the theater and I take a few minutes to hopefully clear up two troubling mysteries. I can’t find my bicycle tool bag; and worse, I can’t find most of my bik8ng outfits. The latter one nags at me a lot, because all of my bike shirts have sentimental value and are more or less irreplaceable. My fear is in our last sweep through the condo I screwed up and donated them to Goodwill.

Great news: I find my cycling clothes in our storage unit. Nearly great news: Mike the painter remembers seeing the tools - I’d left them on the floor. He can’t figure out where they are, but I ass,e they’ll turn up eventually. At the least, I feel a bit less addle-brained.

A bit foggy up on the ridge still this morning

Today’s film is amazing, very provocative - nearly as good, in its own way, as the one we were so taken by on Tuesday. This is shaping up as one of the great years, from evidence so far.

We walk back to the condos, get our bikes and change clothes, and then walk across the street to Jamieson Park to have lunch on the PB sandwiches Rachael brought along.

I love Jamieson Park, but eating here today reinforces our decision to leave. We used to come out for lunch here fairly often, but it’s been a long time now. Over the years, we’ve gotten a bit jaded and haven’t seen the place with the same fresh eyes we once did. Time to pass on the experience to someone else.

We get a bit of a late start biking, and it’s nearly 2 before we start. We take one of our favorite shorter loops, north on Williams to the Columbia, east on Marine Drive to the freeway bridge, then backtrack to the west and return to town along Willamette Bluff.

It’s overcast, comfortable, nearly windless. At one point it begins misting lightly, but it passes quickly. The highlight is the bird life: at one point we flush a red tailed hawk sitting in the grass next to the cycle path, and he takes wing about ten feet in front of us; and a bit later we pass a pair of marsh hawks, a fairly uncommon sighting along here, soar low over the river.

The river is glasslike east of the Glenn Jackson Bridge.

In the evening we relax in our room, taking stock of our situation. Everything is coming together nicely. All of our vendors are lined up on fixed dates, and will be out in time for the realtor to take photos on the 22nd. We’ll be in the market not long after the first of next month.

Also, the last of the press screenings were announced today, so we can finalize our personal PIFF schedule. We have a full month in store: 38 foreign films; two jazz concerts (the PDX Jazz Festival is also in February); a symphony; and a piano recital. Somewhere in here we also need to get the rest of our residuals out of the condo and into storage, and fit in a ride or two.

Today’s ride: 39 miles

Friday: Gladstone

Another 11 AM film this morning, with the afternoon off. Rachael and I plan to just meet at the theater, and then after the show we’ll head off somewhere on our bikes together.

I’m not sure of my plans for the morning, until I get dressed to leave and discover I've left my coat somewhere yesterday. Frustrating, but it should be recoverable - there aren’t many spots to check back at. I start with the most obvious one, the Daily Cafe where we had breakfast yesterday.

It’s still darkish but just before daybreak when I start out. As. Bike along the waterfront, I look across the river and am surprised by how rosy the US bank building is. It often has a pinkish hue (its nickname is the Big Pink), but not like this. Looking behind me to the east, I see that the sky is rosy also - the bank building is reflecting the sunrise.

A few minutes later, the sky to the west behind the downtown skyline reddens also; and within five minutes the show is over. Very nice - an evanescent spectacle to start off the day.

This is a sonic dish, meant to amplify ambient sound beneath Tilikum Crossing at night. The color Choice is computer driven, depending on water level and temperature. The homeless camper is a nice added touch of color.

The Hawthorne Bridge, moments before sunrise

For something like three minutes, the sky to the west turns rosy

Disappointingly, the coat isn’t at the Daily Cafe. I have a brief flicker of hope when she rummages around a bit, and then asks what type it is - it makes it sound like she’s found a green coat, but wants identification - but it’s a ruse. She hasn’t found a coat meeting any description, so maybe she’s just toying with me. I haven’t given up hope though - the best chance is at our storage unit - I’ll bet I took it off while looking for my bike clothes yesterday. I’ll check tomorrow.

As long as I’m there already, I have breakfast at the Daily Cafe again, having the same delicious graters and mushroom omelet I had yesterday. Then I hustle off to the show, and meet up with Rachael. After the show, as we walk back to the bikes and eat our lunch, we talk over the film (good, not great) and the morning. It takes me a minute to register that she als9 went back to the Daily Cafe for breakfast. We compare notes and realize that we were there at the same time, at opposite ends of the Cafe, unaware of the other’s presence.

Back at the bikes, we head south for Gladstone (a small neighborhood just north of Oregon City, getting in a good thirty miler again and returning to Stacey’s just in time to get ready for dinner. Stacey is outside when we arrive, and greets us with arms raised in prideful triumph - she succeeded today in mounting the shower head in our apartment. She’s been giving a lot of thought to how to do this, and is very pleased with her solution, using scraps from an led wine barrel.

The new Sellwood Bridge, from Willamette Park

Stacey’s latest pride and joy: a new shower mount, using scraps from a well aged wine barrel

The Laurelhurst Theater. From this angle, it looks like a peacock.

For dinner we eat at Nuestra Cucina, one of our favorites and now in our neighborhood. Afterwards, we take a busman’s holiday from the film festival, and go see a first-run movie at the Laurelhurst Theater: The Disaster Artist.

When we arrive at the theater, Rachael realizes she’s missing her glasses. We call up the restaurant, where they find them lying on the floor beneath our table. Fortunately there’s still time to dash back to retrieve them and return before the film starts.

What madness - will there be no end to these lost item episodes? Is this just how life is going to be now?

Today’s ride: 30 miles

Saturday: Sauvie Island

This has been the most exceptional winter here in Portland, with day after day of fine weather, excellent for biking. We’re enjoying it now, but I imagine there will be hell to pay come late summer - the snowpack for most of the state is about third of normal.

Today fits the pattern: dry, windless, mostly cloudy; and cold, about 38, when I start off for Sauvie Island at about 9. Even though we’re not staying at the condo any more, I’ve driven over with Rodriguez and park him there for the day. It’s another logistically complex day, and it just works better to leverage the Jetta: today is carpet laying day, and I have to meet the vendors to let them in; and Rachael and I are going to a piano recital this afternoon, so we need suitable clothes to change into.

So, the plan for the day: I drive over with my bike and our outfits, park it at the condo, let in the vendors, and then go for a bike ride alone. Rachael will go on her own ride, end at the car so she can pick up her clothes and a towel from the car so she can shower at the gym. We’ll meet at the Park Avenue Cafe in the afternoon, and then walk to the recital.

The plan works well. The carpet layers arrive promptly, get right to it, and I’m off. Before leaving town though I stop at the storage unit, hoping my missing coat is there. It’s notthere though, dammit - I’m down to one other possibility, the film center. I need an extra layer this morning, so I ride with my wool Pendleton over my other cycling clothes. It’s just enough.

The carpetlayers arrive, and leave a few hours later, their work done here. Another milestone behind us.

It’s a pleasant ride along Highway 30,not too busy, and then a wonderful day to be on the island - very quiet, with very little traffic of any kind - I think I saw only one other bike while I was there (missing Rachael, who I later learned came out today also). I’m feeling really good too - the last of my cough seems to finally be moving on, and I’m getting back into decent shape again.

The highest building on the ridge is Pittock Mansion. I’m surprised I’ve never noticed that you can see it from down here.

It’s hard to get a clear shot of the Saint Johns Bridge from either bank, but this isn’t too bad.

The new Sauvie Island Bridge. Writing this, I’m surprised to see that it went in 10 years ago - it doesn’t feel that long ago.

This looks like they’re slogging through the snow, but it’s just a reflection off the water.

Most enjoyably though, it turns out to be a good morning for the birds. Besides the usual cormorants, geese and (in this season) cranes, I keep running into raptors perched by the road. I pass under a remarkably patient red tail, and then a rough leg. And, I manage to get a passable photo of a kestrel. Kestrels are such teases - they’re shy, careful about the distance, and will let you get just close enough that you think you can get a worthwhile shot. As soon as I pull the camera out and try to focus in though, they take wing and move about fifty yards further down the road. We go through three cycles of this before I finally call it quits and move on.

A sine wave of geese - these are dusky Canada geese, a smaller race than their larger cousins.

Cormorants always look like such snoots, with their uptilted bills

The big tease. I’ll have to get a more powerful zoom if I’m ever going to do better than this, I suppose.

Back in town, I walk over to the Park Avenue Cafe for lunch and a rendezvous. Along the way, I stop in at the museum, where my coat is patiently awaiting my return - hurray!

Over lunch, Rachael plan out the coming weeks, and reserve a different B&B near Mount Tabor that we’re going to try out next month after we move on from Stacey’s. Then we walk over to Lincoln Hall for the recital, which is great - a young Czech performer, playing primarily music of Czech composers. It’s my favorite of the series this year.

its just past sundown when we exit the hall, and the elm trees above are filled with a deafening cacophony of crows. A nice ending of a day that’s really been one for the birds.

Today’s ride: 40 miles

Sunday

We wrap up the week by wrapping at the condo. The painter is off today, so this is our opportunity to deal with all of the odds and ends we’ve left behind there, stuffed into drawers and cupboards. There’s quite a bit there still - a rug, framed pictures, breakables, dishes, junk - and I’ve been harboring anxieties about whether it would all fit in our small storage unit.

We begin by hauling everything out where we can see it, and sort it into two small mountains - in one bedroom, things we plan to get rid of; in the other, things we’ll keep if we can. A few hours later we break for lunch and then pack the car with the keepers and drive to the unit. Looking at the space again, it looks more promising than I expected - it’s basically full already, but there are a lot of gaps in the matrix where we can carefully pack in a bit more.

It all fits. Incredible. Even better, it’s well organized - there is a surprising amount of accessible space, so we’ll be able to fairly easily reach things we need from time to time. The bikes aren’t in there yet of course, but their space is still open, as long as we haven’t sealed off the tight access avenue. We’ll test that out next month.

There is still the Goodwill pile to move out, but I’m just not up to it. I’m suddenly completely spent. It will have to wait for another day. Rachael goes for a short ride, and I drive back to Stacey’s to crash for a couple of hours.

At five, we walk over to Burrasca, the neighborhood’s Tuscan trattoria I’ve been itching to try out since my first reconnaissance mission here. It doesn’t disappoint - we are served two wonderful meals, which we share: pork loin with cannolini beans, and a delicious plate of chestnut tagliatelle. Additionally, it has a simple, pleasing decor. The walls are lined with prints from the massive archive of Fratelli Alinari of Florence, the oldest photography studio in the world still active. I’d never heard of them until the chef, Vincenzo, explains them for me and writes out the name so I can read up later. It’s a great little restaurant - we’ll definitely be back.

Funny - I’ve had my eyes open the last few days for the first daffodils, and finally found them - right in front of Stacey’s door.

Our fine first meal at Burrasca. It won’t be our last.

I love this Alinari print on the wall behind our table. It’s a cart laden with a few thousand Chianti fiaschi (wine flasks).

After dinner we drive downtown to the evening’s symphony performance. We’re nearly late, trapped on the Hawthorne Bridge when the barricades are lowered as a cruise ship passes beneath. Frustratingly, it’s a pointless wait - the ship clears without the span actually lifting.

Tonight’s symphony is the finest cultural event we’ve been to this year, in my opinion. It has nothing to do with biking, but it’s such an exceptional evening that I’m describing it here to help me remember its magic. Two pieces stand out: Tchaikovsky’s sixth symphony (the Pathetique), and Prokofiev’s second piano concerto. I’m quite moved by the Pathetique, a work I first fell in love with in high school. The transition from the fantastic fanfares of the third movement to the mournful fourth is abrupt, almost devastating - this must be about the most sorrowful movement in the classical repertoire.

As fine as this is, the Prokofiev steals the show. I’ve never heard this piece live, but it’s astonishing - a half hour of nonstop fireworks. The soloist, Natasha Paremski, is a spellbinding performer. A tall, slender woman, she’s dressed for effect tonight in a strapless, floor length form fitting silver lamé dress. She’s a muscular performer, and it is riveting to watch her alternately caress the Steinway in catlike movements in the quieter passages, and then brutalize the poor instrument in the more violent ones, her long flaxen hair whipping wildly about her.

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Bruce LellmanYour pre-touring journal is valuable to people who are considering selling just about all of their belongings including their homes and cars and hitting the road on their bikes for an undetermined time. Even though you are doing all of this in lightning speed, it still takes a long time; a myriad of things to schedule and accomplish before taking off.

It also includes lots of psychological processing. Moving on means being accepting of big time change and letting go. It probably wouldn't be wise to rush this process.
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