January 13, 2025
Flight
When I went to bed last night I set my alarm for fifteen minutes earlier than Rachael had set hers for at four. I have a lot to do in the morning: suitcase Rachael’s bike, pack my gear into travel bags, take the last Portland items to the Raven, take down the recycling. Doable in an hour, but too tight, so I set mine for 3:45.
When I wake up this morning the best strategy comes to me: the bike packing needs light, but the Raven run and recycling don’t. I do both of those when I’m first up, and when I come back about four I flip on the light and start in on the bike, beginning with opening up my own bike suitcase to pull out the pedal spanner. It’s not there.
I really cannot believe it. Is this day too going to collapse into chaos and another good story day? Is Team Anderson just destined to have a new good story day dominate their miserable lives every other day from here on out now?
And then I connect up this new mystery with another I’ve troubled over: my bag of miscellaneous small hardware - washers, small bolts and screws and so on for emergency road repairs has gone missing. They must have been left behind in Barcelona, set on the floor and forgotten when I finished boxing the bikes. Not that surprising, considering that I was sick at the time.
Now though, it’s a serious problem. Without the spanner I can’t remove her pedals; and if I can’t do that I can’t suitcase her bike; and if I can’t suitcase her bike we’re not going to Tucson today. We’ll have to wait another day until I can get a new spanner from a bike store.
I share this horrible news with Rachael as soon as she’s up, and there’s discussion about why this wasn’t foreseen. And she’s right, it was a lost opportunity; but just look at the density of this week! Monday the Raven returns, so we have her bike with us again. Tuesday I’m off to Hillsboro for my optometry appointment. Wednesday, I drive to our bike storage locker to bring back my bike and both suitcases, and after half-suitcasing hers we put the suitcases into storage rather than having them clog up our tiny room - an action that in retrospect still sounds sensible. Thursday is the HAC meet. Friday I’m driving down to Sunnyside for my ophthalmology appointment. Yesterday, Vanport.
So yes, there was time in there to have the inspiration to realize that I should validate that we really have the spanner, but the possibility that we didn’t never occurred to me. The inspiration didn’t come, and here were are. So it goes.
There’s really only one hope left for salvaging the day, and that’s that her bike will fit in the suitcase with the pedals on as long as we leave the wheels outside. There are a few very tense moments when I test this out, and deep sighs of relief when it works. It’s a pain in the butt to have to carry the wheels separately with everything else (I pull mine out also, so we have more storage space in the suitcases and because we think two wheels might pack together better), but we’re back on plan. It’s a rush finishing everything up but the time fits and we’re in the lobby waiting for our ride at 4:59, one minute before our Uber driver is due.
She’s already here waiting, so we start piling everything in and soon we’re on our way to PDX. And really, that’s it. The whole rest of the day goes well, so we’re left with an hour of panic and stress but a good outcome. Not really a good story day then, and one more like just one more time when I lost my glasses or wallet.
Our driver is terrific, one of the best yet - interesting, engaged, a good listener and a good talker. There’s constant conversation all the way. I open by telling her what’s happening with our lives, then it’s her turn. She works at OHSU during the week and Uber at times as a budget filler. For years she commuted to OHSU from her home in Beaverton, but was sent home to telecommute when Covid happened. And she’s still working from home, and loves it. She hasn’t got the commute any more, but even better is that she’s home for her four children.
She drops us off in front of the Alaska gate, and after double and triple checking that we haven’t left anything in her car she drives off, with me almost forgetting to snap a shot of her car.
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There’s a humorous moment when we enter the terminal through one of those turnstile doors. Rachael goes first and then I wheel my suitcase into the next slot. But I almost don’t get off, preparing to just keep going around the merry go round indefinitely until Rachael calls at me to step out. It’s a blind eye thing - I just didn’t see the opening on the right. I’m still in basic training for this one-eyed life I’ve suddenly been dropped into. I’m still learning the ropes, but I’ll get there.
From here, everything goes flawlessly (with thanks to the Alaska staff, who are to a person courteous, friendly and helpful). We get checked in, the wheels get dropped off at the oversized baggage desk, we grab breakfast, and an hour later we’re waiting to board. Which isn’t to say there’s not still a lot of tension and anxiety felt. We don’t really fully exhale until landing in Tucson, and really it’s another day at least before it really sinks in that we’re here, we’ve done it, and we can start enjoying ourselves again.
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The flight is wonderful, a 2-1/2 hour nonstop with conditions that hold me in awe most of the way. It’s very foggy on the ground when we taxi down the tarmac, but soon we’re above it and briefly get views before reaching the cloud layer. And then we’re cruising above an unbroken white sea for about an hour until suddenly it edges off somewhere over northern Nevada. I’ve got a window seat, and with my new phone camera I must fire off a thousand shots before we land, enough so that my trigger hand is cramping by the time we land.
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On the tarmac I phone Kelly to let her know we’ve arrived, and she’s there waiting for us when we step outside the terminal ten minutes later. it is so great to be here at last, to have a friendly face greet us, and to get a ride. Thanks so much, Kelly!
Our room isn’t guaranteed to be available until three so first we head to Opa’s Best for a Greek lunch and then Kelly drives us to the Safeway so we can binge shop to load up for our coming seven week stay. On the drive or over lunch Kelly tells us of the wildlife sightings on her daily early morning walks: a bobcat, Harris’s hawks, and even a puffed up roadrunner, looking fat with all his feathers out for insulation and warmth in the morning chill. Later she sends me a photo of the bird that she took with her phone and I’m including it here because I’ve never seen a roadrunner look like this and didn’t know it was a roadrunner behavior.
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And one more thing: any time I make a gripping motion with my right hand - like to hold a fork or pull a credit card from my wallet - it immediately clamps up tight. It’s awkward at lunch, which I manage for the most part by using my left hand.
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And somewhere in here we get a message from our host that our room is ready early so we head straight there next and arrive around 1:30. Kelly helps us unload our gear and schlep it into our new home and then drives off.
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Really, other than that first deplorable hour, what’s not to like about this day? Nada.
And late in the afternoon I step out into the street when rhe light has a glow to it and collect my first new bird of my stay here.
And, at the end of the day we enjoy the moment I’ve been hoping for as we step out into the street and watch an absolutely full Wolf Moon ascend through the meaquites. Perfect.
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