Oregon Epicness.

It's almost odd to think just how long Paul and I have been traveling together. Odd, not in the actual duration of our travels thus far, but the fact that we have spent very nearly every waking moment with each other. We live together, eat together, work together and sleep together - and since we have the same friends over here - we hang out together. Consequently, we have never really been apart for an extended period of time in all of this. I mean, the longest time we have had away from eachother was when I tripped to Banff with a few buddies way back in the rather harsh Canadian winter a year ago. Indeed, our lives have been so interlinked over the past 19 months that we have had little opportunity to do so. Until now.

A couple of months ago I was fortunate enough to meet an awesome girl by the name of Michelle. Unfortunately, she happens to live in the State of Oregon, in a small town some 850-miles away. She had come down to visit me during the previous month, so it was my turn to return the favor, and book a flight up to see her for about a week. Before long, D-day had arrived, and Paul was dropping me off in Long Beach Airport in our beat-up 180,000 miles-on-the-clock nissan named Pixie. As I relieve Pixie of my suitcase in the trunk and motion toward the Alaska Airlines terminal, Paul and I almost simultaneously realize the implications of this trip - the separation of ShaunPaul. Male affection has always been a bit weird for us, so we skip the notion of a hug and resort to a quick handshake, a wave goodbye, and a "have a good time, BOI!" from Paul and a tired groan from Pixie as she speeds away. I head for the terminal, ease through the now-familar check-in process and board the plane. I am on my own.

The trip was boring enough. I was squashed into the back corner of the plane - sitting next to a bigger lady as her stomach pushed against and all but engulfed the arm rest dividing our seats. Luckily enough however, I was in the window seat, and was therefore able to forget my predicament as best as possible, and relax as I watched the clouds and mountains scroll by effortlessly. A couple of complimentary cookies later, and after much mulling over the nearing reality of seeing my girl again, our plane began its descent into Portland Airport. We circled the city before lining up the runway, dropping down, and finally hitting the tarmac with relative ease. Soon after, the plane doors are opened, and I proceed to the baggage claim area where I hastily grab my oversized-suitcase before it proceeds to do another lap on the conveyor belt. I wait for the arrival of Michelle for about ten minutes like some lost tourist, before I eye a blonde-figure approaching from down the corridor. She seemed lost too - so I gave a quick yell to resolve the dilemma. She responds with a big smile and an even bigger big hug, as we are reunited for the first time in a month. Both buzzing like bees, we head to the parking lot, jump into her car and speed away into some downtown Portland epicness.

We promptly proceeded to do a few laps of the Portland CBD in search of some lunch, before stopping in at a place called Rock Bottom for some macaroni and a burger. Once satisfied, we hit the road again and headed south toward a little town called Silverton, which was about an hour away. I had every reason to feel a bit anxious, but I just didn't. I mean, I was about to 'meet the parents' as well as the rest of her family - a common cause for anxiety for any boyfriend. We first pulled up to her sister's house, where I was introduced and we hung out for a bit before heading to her mum and dad's place. Getting out of the car, we enter the house through the garage and walk straight into the kitchen area. Mum wasn't home yet, but her dad is, greeting me with a warm smile and a solid handshake. I return the favor, gripping his hand firmly in respect to the notion that a hard shake somehow affirms your masculinity. We have good chats before heading out again for some well-regarded Mexican food for dinner. We all head in toward our assigned seating, where her mum has already found her place there. We introduce before sitting down and ordering our food, with Kent exerting just how good the Pico de Gallo here is. Her in-laws also join the party, and we feast until bloated, before calling it a night and returning home.

The next morning began with a tour of Silverton. This didn't take long, however, as the town's population is just short of ten thousand people. But I liked it a lot. It had character to it - truly a class above those little hick towns you see running adjacent to the major freeways where their only purpose is to provide truckers with gas at odd ours of the morning. Indeed, there was something really refreshing about being here. I am a small town New Zealand boy at heart, and so felt pretty comfortable in this place and revelled the contrast between here and the busy buzzings down south in L.A. In fact, Oregon itself reminded me of my homeland down under. The fertile Willamette Valley, which houses most of the major cities in the state, boasts rolling green hills littered with livestock. Forests and mountains dot the horizon, with Mount Hood the dominant image, a fortress shadowing the towns below. Today, however, low-lying cloud and rain impeded seeing it all. We stopped in at Kent's workshop before heading home and relaxing in front of the fire and being blessed with a particularly delicious home-cooked meal, which I was in full appreciation of, as family dinner does not come all that often to me these days. We finished the day off with card games with the parents in the living room and laughter late into the night.

Another tour ensued the following day - this time being given the walk-around the family owned and operated dairy factory. Here, heavy methane fumes from the multitudes of cows invaded my nostrils, but it was a smell that I was not unfamiliar with, having grown up in one of New Zealand's premier dairy farming regions. A little while later Michelle decided to take me to Salem, a nearby city some twenty-minutes away. We walked, talked and braved the rather brisk temperatures by walking through the local university campus and snapping shots outside the city's Capitol building. We returned home and relaxed, where Kent introduced me to his guitar that he had never quite got around to learning how to play. I promptly tuned the thing to at least an operational level and strung a few chords together. It felt great to be playing again after a decent hiatus where I had apparently lost interest. I would later teach Kent a couple of the basic chords, as well as play random lullaby's throughout the week.

Rain was prominent throughout my stay. So, on the one day that it subsided - at least for a while - we figured that it might be a good time to hike the Silver Falls State Park. I had seen pictures of the place and it looked pretty impressive, so I was keen to see and consume it all. The trail we were to follow would take roughly three hours to complete, so we packed a few goodies to munch on, took the short drive to get there, and set out into the wilderness. Immediately, we approached the Silver Falls - the largest of the waterfalls in the area. I watched in awe at the splendor of the beast, its water gently flowing off the cliff and transforming into steam as it rapidly descended into the depths below. We continued on our trek, stopping and checking out the other waterfalls in between. There were about twelve in all, each one a little different and unique from the last. Again, I could draw similarities between this place with many parts of New Zealand, and the serenity if it all was refreshing. We eventually completed the circuit, rewarding ourselves with a sit-down in the log cabin restaurant and gulped on some much-needed hot chocolate to warm up our bodies recuperating from the chilly Oregon wilderness.

I awoke the following morning abruptly to the sound of my alarm bleeping at an irritating pitch, and at an hour far too early to have had a full night’s sleep. I groaned at the thought of having to leave the warm confines of my blankets, yet I knew it was a necessity. It was 4.00am, and my return flight to long beach departed from Portland at 6.15 – about an hour’s drive away. Grumbling, I hopped out of bed and hastily threw on the most accessible pair of jeans and a t-shirt, grab my things and hit the road with Michelle. We stay fairly quiet for the majority of the journey, tiredness affecting our ability to communicate, but also not wanting to accept the realization that once I board that plane, we will be unsure as to when we will be able to see each other again. The drive to the airport made me reflect on the trip as a whole. In all, it was just incredible. Our time in California has been the longest single stint we have stayed in one area since our adventure began, and it felt great to be adventurous again. And of course, it was great to see my girl. I am truly blessed to have met her and her awesome family. Blessed. We hugged and said our goodbyes before Michelle faded off into the distance. As I boarded the plane and watched our ascent from my window, my sadness was replaced with an overwhelming sense of stoke and joy at it all, how it all came about and how it all fell into place so perfectly. We will meet again, and until then – I can’t wait. Thank You.