Back in the northwest, I began to make plans to head back to the tropics. I thought a lot about how to get back to Guaymas where I had left Altere. In the end I decided to drive this time.

I think I thought that the drive would be very pleasant; just me and my audio books and the open road. I also wanted to stop and visit Elisabeth in Portland in her new digs. And then I wanted to stop in Southern California and visit Newport Harbor where there is a large fleet of Harbor 20s . In my mind, I underestimated the distances and time I would be spending sedentary in a vehicle.

So I had a nice dinner with Elisabeth in Portland. She has become quite a chef. Her fish sautéed in garlic and tomatoes was to die for. And then I drove south. Evergreens and rain gradually gave way to mountain mist. Then once over the Siskiyous, Mount Shasta rose in the blue sky surrounded by dry hills. Passing through more dry country reminded me of the fires that had plagued California the last two years. Eventually the hills flattened out into fields of the Central Valley.

I made an overnight stop in Stockton. Leaving the next morning, I drove past some of the places I had lived while working and going to school there. And then I was out on "the 5" as they call it here, driving between the fields and the edge of the coastal range. The scenery became monotonous. Harvest over, the fields were dry save for the occasional verdant orchard. Eventually I was climbing over the Tehachapis and descending into the chaotic and crowded City of Angels.

Seattle has its traffic that is subject to gridlock. The LA basin's version of bad traffic seemed much worse. Not quite as crowded as in the northwest, but within the crowds were many cars that were moving 10 to 30 mph over the speed limit. Large trucks often moved out to pass each other reducing the space between myself and the speedsters. It was truly frightening.

But I eventually found a hotel in Newport Beach.