Benjamin Matthew Wallace's Blog

It’s a false sirens song of safety, not a love affair, I have with the sea, as she whips salt and sand and cold air through my beard. It is such a personal and enveloping feeling. The hand of mother ocean saying hello, holding your face tight around the jaw as a mother does a child to keep the head supported from fatal falls.

Drive was the only thing that could keep me feeling warm as the dark clouds thundered closer, and I knew a decision had to be made before my three hour drive back to Seattle.

It didn’t get made.

It still wasn’t decided after a two hour flight to Salt Lake, and even through a restless night where a best friend and I hiked around the legnth of a city.

Paralyzed with indecision and plauged with the knowledge that this choice will reverberate with every other me in the multiverse, I noticed my hands finally stopped shaking.

Winter. 1616.

‘Hand me that cutter, will you?’ His voice was rust on iron in deep water.

‘This junk?’ Old metal with a thin cylindrical shape was a foot away from Grayson, resting in the cold hands of M.

‘Thanks’

‘We have better things for that, you know.’

‘I know’ Grayson said, sighing in frustration.

‘Am I annoying you?:

‘Every day.’

‘Sir I can leave if you’d wish.’

Grayson cocked an eyebrow, ‘Oh? Go where?’

‘Out the hatch.’

‘Oh out the hatch.. certain death. Wet on all sides you know? Quick, but not quick enough, freezing and suffocating at once.’

‘I think I’d make it.’

‘Well, I’m not going to have you try it, not this time. Unfortunately I still need you.’

‘Unfortunately! Do you hear yourself?’

‘Unfortunately it’s the only voice I’ve heard in 709 days.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Where do you think your voice comes from M? I programmed you. Hand me that box of wire. I think I’ve finished this.’

+++++

‘Okay M, hit it.’

Stars winked in and out, and for the first time in nearly two years, Grayson felt the thrill of traveling at lightspeed.

The air was cold. Frost filled pockets would fill and slap you in the face as you exhaled and moved, and that’s how you kept alive in this cold. Breathing and moving.

As much as the air was cold, the night was black. If you were born to this black you wouldn’t ever know you weren’t blind.

As much as breathing and moving kept you alive, the scenery here could kill you mentally long before you stopped breathing and moving. It wasn’t exactly motivating.

So we ran through the thick black landscape and the floor felt like dirt. Tight soil, maybe the beach near the outgoing tide. Solid, but giving. A lot like us. Solid, but giving.

Slow horns blast in an uncoordinated effort to ruin my psyche. Craving something normal, I’m salivating at the idea of classical music.

I can almost see it. It’s blurry, a green swamp with the grey black sky of a sun that’s just set and the pine trees are clawing at the last gasps of sunlight like a hand claws at your gasping throat. The orchestra is playing slow on the shoreline of a too green swamp. I’m calf deep in black wet death, marching towards the cello.

All the strings suddenly snap and I’m nerve singed hot cold with the stillness of nothing. Coffins aren’t this quiet.

Arriving into San Francisco later in the day, checking into hotel along with what was our only lucky parking spot of the stay in the city. We left to meet up with my friend and get dinner. He suggested a spot called Rosamundes Sauasage Grill – which was fantastic and had a great beer selection. It was a brief catch up – we were getting together in the morning for breakfast as well, and it was going to be an early start. After discussing ideas and plans, both new and old, and giving him a ride home, we headed back to the hotel downtown.

Parking might not have been too bad to some, but it was rough for us. Portland for sure has a growth situation, and parking can be tough here – but we’ve never had to park 9 blocks from where we were heading. Which was the case in San Francisco. Leeloo needed to be walked, and we tried to get her to go to the bathroom for what seemed like an hour. She wouldn’t do it. She’s.. touched, as it is, and the pure concrete world with no grass and loud noises with bright lights didn’t give her the confidence she needed to be calm enough to make it happen. Still we tried, and eventually after showing her a 2×1 spot of dirt for a few minutes she peed a little. Life’s a series of little successes. They add up.

Waking up and getting some decidedly bland coffee from one of the popular coffee shops in the city (bummer) my friend took my fiance and I on a tour of his office. He’s in a high rise in China Town, and they have the entire 32nd floor. There’s nearly no walls in their office, and the views are out of town. Literally, I mean we could see beyond the town.

It was fantastic seeing his work space, he’s the best guy I know and deserves to be working in a place like this. A few years back he was doing the same work from the couch of my house in Salt Lake City. Now he looks at what seemed like the entirety of Northern California from his standing desk. As good as a upgrade as that is, we both often talk about how happy times were back in that small place in Salt Lake. I truly miss it.

Stepping over human shit a dozen times on the way to the hotel was enough for us on the 30 minute walk there, so we packed up and hit the road to our next stop. Palo Alto and Stanford University. The contrast between the two cities was incredibly eye opening. This was a different way of life out here, with green hills and winding rivers in the landscape. People wore athletic outdoor gear to get coffee, and oh, the coffee. Phillz coffee wins for best cup I had in Northern California.

Stanford was incredible. All I had really known about it was it was a top school and my fiance loved it there when she attended. I didn’t realize it was a massive, beautiful campus, with incredible history and moving architecture. Holding some of the best art on the west coast, and we easily could have spent most of the day here. As it was, we spent a good few hours walking around, and I felt inspired by it all. And inspired more by Maggie. She’s a good one, and a great tour guide.

We continued down to Santa Cruz, eyed an incredible sunset at the lighthouse watching surfers enjoy golden hour waves, walked along the beach playing with Leeloo, and got dinner and a beer at a fantastic micro brewery called Humble Sea Brewing. Great beer, great food, awesome patio, and dog friendly! I got a hazy IPA, Maggie got a sour. Both were unique and fantastic.

After walking the dog and feeding her dinner we made our last leg of the day, driving to Cambria. It was dark when we pulled in, but we had a fantastic room with a fireplace that was the only source of heat. A bottle of wine and a comfy big bed ended a fantastic day.

You can spend four hundred nights alone. Content to be alone, but a longing is there. If you’re unaware of this longing you’ve never truly been alone, on the fringes, in the shadows.

But the second some people realize you’re no longer going to be alone, no longer in the shadows, is the second the vampires of your past lives emerge. Like a moon on a cloudy night, suddenly, and all at once bright where there was dark. Beckoning for your blood once more.

It was easily seen and impossible to forget. The straight angles of your face and the curved lines of stunning emotion.

We took off from the murder motel as early as we could, neither of us really getting much sleep, but both of us excited to get to San Fransisco by the evening. Fueling up on a little coffee and a bagel, with the pitter patter of steady drizzly rain falling on the car, we were on route to our first stop, the Newton B. Drury Scenic Parkway. A small but scenic drive right off the 101 through the Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park. Then the road traverses south to Arcata, Eureka, and away from the coast. Inland is a stretch of driving that I wanted to do based off of the recommendation of my best friend, called The Avenue of Giants. It’s a thirty some mile drive that is one of the most scenic drives in America cutting through the Humboldt Redwoods State Park. Eventually the 101 took us through Santa Rosa, and then to Golden Gate Bridge.

I’ll never forget the drive through the rolling hills of Northern California, green hills in front of and beside you, the ocean hugging your right. It was pouring rain, and beautiful. The dog was asleep in the backseat, my fiance and I were holding hands, and we were in awe at the world we are lucky enough to travel through space on.

Approaching the Newton B. Drury Scenic Parkway was easy, it’s a straight path off the 101 that connects right back to the 101 at the end. The massive trees were hugging the road, bright red to dark red trunks some 4-9 feet wide, some scarred by fire, some fallen in half, and some entirely down, roots and all, like massive fallen dinosaurs. Husks of splintered giants broken atop one another and the brush and rivers winding beneath. We stopped twice, first to wander around a small trail and follow a stream for a half mile or so. Second to see Big Tree.

[image error]Trail following a stream in Newton B. Drury Scenic Prkwy.

Big Tree is, well, a big fucking tree. It was incredibly impressive, and easily the biggest tree I’ve seen in my life up to that point. 286 feet high (87.2 meters) 23.7 feet in diameter (7.2 meters) a circumference of 74.5 feet (22.7 meters) and an estimated age of 1500 years (old).

1500 years ago is when, legend has it, (King) Arthur defeated the Saxons at Mound Badon in Dorset, in Southern England. The first Swedish state was founded. The Romans and Persians were at war with one another. The Hagia Sophia Cathedral in Constantinople was completed. Buddhism found its way into Japan. This tree has been alive for so many events that it boggles the mind to try to wrap your head around.

[image error]Big Tree

The scale of it is difficult to capture. We honestly had no idea where the top of the tree was while we were close enough to take a photo of it. Only after walking back to the car do you realize the canopy of this tree towers over mostly everything else in the forest around it. I don’t quite understand the magnetic pull to these giants, though it seems something that the majority of us humans love. Many people from all over the world were visiting this area, many people simply staring at this giant redwood. I think that we all know that we all have these thoughts in common, shared smiles and conversation, disbelief that something this perfect has survived so long against storms, fires, floods, droughts, and, most spectacularly, us.

The drive took us south. We passed through Eureka and got Bento Boxes from a great sushi joint. Walked through a downpour to get a cup of coffee and played a (quick) game of chess* and continued on the road inland towards the Avenue of Giants. The north entrance was easy to navigate to, and we were quickly put on an absolutely beautiful two lane road traveling through time. This was an absolutely ancient forest of the biggest and thickest trees I have ever seen. I’m not sure if there are any forests in the world quite like this one. Winding thirty miles without the time to see everything we wanted, we decided to stop once at Founders Grove. This is a grove of giants that is both haunting and beautiful. The trees here have seen damage of fire, damage of storm, and while some have survived, others have not.

[image error]Founders Grove tree damaged by fire, somehow still a living giant.

The walk around Founders Grove is a quick one, only about a mile loop at most. I highly recommend everyone who can to check it out. It’s a great spot to stretch your legs with these massive trees who stretch what seems the realm of possibility. I had such a profound sense of wonder while walking through this grove, wonder at the fires that have scarred these trees, wonder at the climate these giants have seen throughout their lives. The peoples who have been near and around them a thousand plus years ago, and what they must have thought and wondered about them. Humbling to the core, these testaments to time taught me patience, even through extreme strife, is always paramount.

[image error]

 

The journey south to San Fransisco was quiet, we listened to music and were both in our respective contemplation. I was awed by what I had seen, and happy in the moment. Thinking ahead, I had many things on my mind. I was born in San Fransisco. I left when I was a baby and had no memory of it, and was excited to see the place I was born thirty years ago.

The gates of Golden Gate were lit, and it driving into the city over the famous bridge was a wonderful welcome. It looked lovely, beautiful architecture and a wonderful scene to see the gorgeous bridges alight and the tall skyscrapers glowing as we continued into the city.

I was excited to see my best friend who lives there, and I was excited to have a night in a non murder motel. We got a room at The Cartwright Hotel downtown, and met up with my best friend at Rosamunde Sausage Grill. The food and beer were good, extremely expensive, but catching up and having a meal with one of the best people I know was fantastic.

 

 

*Maggie hasn’t had the time to play chess often given her professional pursuits. She is a ringer in every other game I’ve played against her.

It was a good start to a great trip. An Xuyen Bakery, for the best Vietnamese Bahn Mi sandwiches you can buy, along with the best iced coffee this side of the Pacific. We were in high spirits as we made our way to Salem, not the witchy Salem, but Oregon’s Salem. Capital Salem. It was a brief stop, coffee at Archive, and an oil change at Valvoline, then we were on the road. We drove towards the coast, and the 101. The sun was getting low and the clouds were showing a beautiful scene. The 101 along the coast was a quick travel to Coo’s Bay where we eventually stopped to stretch out our legs, feed and walk Leeloo, and get some dinner and a beer.

7 Devils Brewing was popular on the websites that tell you that sort of thing, with fantastic live blue grass music playing, and a fairly short wait (25 minutes, short by Portland standards) we sat down and ordered a couple of the beers they had on special rotation at the moment. The beers were good. Flavorful, strong, and easy to drink. The food was way too carb heavy, not on the fault of the restaurant, just what we were craving, though the salad we ordered never made it to our table, which left the food sitting heavier than planned. We wanted to make it farther down the coast, and decided to stop in Brookings Oregon.

It was dark when we arrived in Brookings, the clouds moved in and the ocean was difficult to tell apart from the night sky on the horizon. One of the higher rated motels was cheap, and we opted for it. The front desk was closed by the time we arrived, though after a phone call a woman came wandering out from the back room. She looked high. She opened the door and her slurred speech and frazzled eye movement confirmed it for me. Our room was ready, but she said she doesn’t remember if she put towels in it, and that she’ll meet us there with towels in hand. When she arrived, she wanted to meet our dog. Leeloo wasn’t having it, and was wide eyed at this woman who kept looking back wide eyed at her. She kept asking what kind of dog she was, and held onto staring at her laughing for what seemed like an eternity. She did warn us that our neighbor motel-mate had two dogs who were usually tied up outside come the morning. Sometimes they liked other dogs, sometimes they didn’t.

It got me thinking that, sometimes, people actually used these rooms for a long period of time, and just how sad that is. I myself have been through a single long stretch of time where I spent too long in an extended-stay hotel. I look back on those times as a wonder that I was able to keep myself together during a brief crisis of life’s events. I was there out of depression, and backstabbing that I didn’t see coming. Thanksgiving meal of gas station food and bad TV.  Though, I was lucky enough that my extended stay in a hotel was in a room much nicer than the one we were about to enter.

I wish I had photos of the room just to show the piss yellow color of the lighting mixed with the dirt of the room. We both were at a loss of words other than, ew. The sink was filmy, all of the windows were unlocked, the curtains were filthy, and didn’t fully cover our window which sat next to the bed. After two minutes of sitting on the bed, we decided to get our sleeping bags out of the car. We both slept fully enclosed in our mummy bags. Leeloo wasn’t at all into it, and was walking around the room at all hours of the night smelling who knows what. Eventually, and thankfully as always, the sun rose. We made our way out of there with little sleep, got a small breakfast from a local coffee shop and the first real leg of our trip started. We planned to be in San Fransisco by the evening of day 2.

Snow is falling quietly and I’ve been meaning to get this tied to my website for too long. Maggie and I have just returned from a wonderful vacation. We took a road trip down the 101 and the Golden Coast and back. I’ll be adding many posts on here in regards to the trip. As for the roots, I have long been considering where to grow them, and when to start. I think that there’s absolutely a few places to now consider, as my best friends and I are spread, and continue to spread out through the country in the future.

I’m tying myself to the best and most incredible person I have ever met. She makes me better. She wants to make the world better and I want to do the same thing. As for now, my roots are entangled to her. That’s more than I thought I’d ever have, and for now, it’s enough. I’m sure we’ll have hundreds of hours or more of conversation about where we want to live, me endlessly pushing for Alaska with a smile on my face knowing she’ll never go for it. Though, truthfully, I’ll be happy just about anywhere.