So Why Oregon?

A while back I had some one leave a comment stating that they didn't know that I had lived in Oregon. I have the feeling it was Jeff Thorset, brau miester at Flagstaff Brewing Company. Which, by the way, is a definite must hit for beer drinkers. They don't brew a single bad beer. Their Buba IPA is a great way to start the day. Bitterroot ESB, ah I can taste it now. Weisspread Wheat in the summer will throw you for a loop. Plus they have Old Crustacean as a guest tap. Back to the point. After all the time we spent talking, mostly about hockey, college football, and beer, I find it hard to believe that I didn't mention having lived in OR. Well I did for five years, and to follow is the reason why.

After leaving L.A. for a little rehab time in Milwaukee, getting by on acid and vodka (have I ever told you about the time I was tripping while eating spaghetti with my parents and a couple siblings...what a trip. It was a worm orgy!) I had finally gotten my act together. To a degree. So it was time to pick a place to move to. In a previous post I mentioned an ill fated trip to Canada. Well on my way up I had two encounters with members of Oregon law enforcement. Twice I had the local blue man group pull over, and instead of asking for id and harassing me they both times asked where I was headed, told me the best route for speed and the best for scenery. But before leaving they reminded me to be safe.



Obviously that stuck in my head, so knowing that OR is a good place to grow weed I headed back to the west coast. I had a spot picked out for the next grow season, an island in the middle of Little Butte Creek, a tributary of the Rogue. Big enough to grow on, small enough not to draw visitors. Between that fall and the next spring is when I met Sophie, and the rest my dear friends is what they call history. Broken bones, new scars, and mini muffin wars.

Here is a picture from my trip out last Oct. Not sure what, or if ,I was thinking hitching in the middle of fall.
All in good fun.