Day 6

Up with the sun rise this morning, I head out of Goble with the hope of finding another good spot to camp near the river. The first place I stop at is a 76 station at Deer Island (somewhere Lewis and Clark's party stopped on their journey home [1805] and killed seven deer)where I get my morning sugar rush. While waiting in line to pay, I hear the cashier talking with a customer, and I think, 'that's a vaguely familiar sound in his accent.' Then the next customer goes up and in their conversation I distinctly hear the guy behind the counter say 'tomauto.' Come to find out, Martin came from Kenya and is desended from British parents. So I'm thinking: 'How random is this? Here, in possibly the smallest town on the Columbia, there's this guy with such a rich internatioal heritage.' Anyway, he makes a delightful contribution to the cause by donating a brilliant cheese burger, which I quickly scarf down. Cheers for that mate!

With a full belly, I'm propelled onwards to St Helens; once there I find a Starbucks where a new kindred spirt awaits. My barista--oh, and I've recently come to believe that this is a feminine word--takes a good two hours, after finishing her shift, to share some incredibly valuable pieces of her life with me. Alyssa, you exude an amazing vibrancy which is truly attractive. I hope you'll continue to brighten the world with your exuberance and never allow yourself to be dissuaded from cherishing the joys inherent in each moment. Following this lovely fellowship, I go search for a place to rest for the night.

I wasn't happy about staying in St Helen's McCormic park, so I make a late evening push for Scappoose. When I get in, it's dark, cold and there doesn't seem to be a place to stay anywhere. My feet ache, so I sit in front of the post office to consider my options. So, I've just about made up my mind to find a tree to sleep under, when I meet Julia, a lady who's just finished talking on a payphone opposite me. We get to chatting and she decides to call her friend back to introduce me. Long story short, her friend, Brenda, invites me to stay in a room in her garage. When I get to the house, Julia prepares a potato and a fanominal steak which I inhale even faster than the cheese burger earlier that day. I'm almost ready to hit the hay when Brenda's son calls me up to his train room. Now this part is cool. He has created a reproduction of the island of Sodor with hand painted models of all the engines. His maticulous attention to detail, and knowledge of Thomas' world is unparalleled, save that of the creators'. While he explains many of the varied additions he's made, I'm thinkin' that my nephew would go crazy if he were here. Soon after, I fall asleep warm and satisfied with my portion in life.

Final thought: Trust and sincere hospitality from a stranger is received like precious gems in the hand of one accustomed to bartering with coal.