a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Qy8LpbgYOag/TD1QSg6dfOI/AAAAAAAAAXc/0oMHWGdLmhs/s1600/tourfans.jpg”img style=”display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 179px; height: 134px;” src=”http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Qy8LpbgYOag/TD1QSg6dfOI/AAAAAAAAAXc/0oMHWGdLmhs/s400/tourfans.jpg” border=”0″ alt=””id=”BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493635399464877282″ //abr /It’s July. And in the tradition of the 97th edition of the Tour de France, I’ve spent my last days out on the roads getting to know the Northwest as you only can when no two days are alike.br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Qy8LpbgYOag/TD1QR1fmJtI/AAAAAAAAAXM/9h49GVMvO8o/s1600/email_astoria_riverview.jpg”img style=”display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 76px;” src=”http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Qy8LpbgYOag/TD1QR1fmJtI/AAAAAAAAAXM/9h49GVMvO8o/s400/email_astoria_riverview.jpg” border=”0″ alt=””id=”BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493635387809474258″ //abr /First, I left Bend for Portland; then the City of Roses gave way to the port town of Astoria, Oregon.br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Qy8LpbgYOag/TD1QSBIO1jI/AAAAAAAAAXU/DUwpSsUzs_k/s1600/sunset-in-the-nortwest.jpg”img style=”display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 144px;” src=”http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Qy8LpbgYOag/TD1QSBIO1jI/AAAAAAAAAXU/DUwpSsUzs_k/s400/sunset-in-the-nortwest.jpg” border=”0″ alt=””id=”BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493635390932702770″ //abr /After Oregon came Washington. A wedding, nights by the waterfront of Lake Wenatchee, coastal sunsets, the obligatory celebrations of July fourth and rollerskiing in 102 degree heat. br /br /br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Qy8LpbgYOag/TD1QRc-UzjI/AAAAAAAAAXE/ku4rdY2SEmc/s1600/email_bettina_manzanita1.jpg”img style=”display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;” src=”http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Qy8LpbgYOag/TD1QRc-UzjI/AAAAAAAAAXE/ku4rdY2SEmc/s400/email_bettina_manzanita1.jpg” border=”0″ alt=””id=”BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493635381227474482″ //abr /My gypsy in arms came all the way from across the Atlantic to take in America, experience the 4th of July and to touch the Pacific for the first time. Forget Swatch watches or Swiss chocolate, this is the finest of Schweiz’s imports. br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Qy8LpbgYOag/TD1QTEAr4SI/AAAAAAAAAXk/7S1_nA88iE0/s1600/IMG_1982.jpg”img style=”display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 200px;” src=”http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Qy8LpbgYOag/TD1QTEAr4SI/AAAAAAAAAXk/7S1_nA88iE0/s400/IMG_1982.jpg” border=”0″ alt=””id=”BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493635408886227234″ //abr /Just as this tour came to end, so soon shall my time in Bend. Next week I load up the truck for good, leave the tenement aptly named the House of Fun solely in the hands of Carl Decker and Matt Lieto, and trade it in for some quality time up in the north country. Before arriving in Mazama I have one more stopover, though. I’ve been invited to lend a hand coaching the young up-and-comers at the PNSA ski camp at Trout Lake, Washington next week with Scott and Erik. To the best of times. And those that will be.div class=”blogger-post-footer”img width=’1′ height=’1′ src=’https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2910103639238326543-2111271918227280103?l=methowolympicdevelopment.blogspot.com’ alt=” //div
