Today we made it to Sutherlin. It's our fourth day walking Interstate Five northward since the disaster. Hoping each new valley we overlook from a ridge above our last will be different, hopes were again dashed today.
But Sam and I will spend the night here. The motel where we'd stayed five years ago is gone. I think we found my old college chum's restaurant, Pedotti's. I'm not sure. But where I think it was is nothing but rubble bearing gentle wisps of grey smoke rising in memory to what was the best Italian food for miles just last Tuesday. Like most everything else that was something then but now is nothing.
Despite a couple hours of gentle rain, our walk from Roseburg was the most pleasant so far. The earth is cooling. Walking is more comfortable than when we first started. Save for occasional hot spots, the smoldering has pretty much ceased. The air breathes easier, thankfully, for Sam who is closer to the acrid ground.
Tomorrow we'll continue north toward Eugene. Hopefully, we can find our family there. But I am not hopeful if what we've seen so far is indication of what lies ahead. With luck we should be there in four or five days.
And depending how we find Eugene, we will decide about Portland, our original destination until those plans were scrapped just south of Canyonville.
So far, we've encountered some nice people. Those who weren't dead, suffering or too shocked to speak anyway. And we're pleased food to this point has not been a problem. Scavenging is rich if not always appetizing.
Funny how more and more I find myself fantasizing about a McDonald's quarter pounder.