I woke up bright and early at Spenard, grabbed my dry bag, forgot my book that I was really into (Grr), and got in the Taxi to the airport. After some confusion with security over my Leatherman, I wandered over to a bookstore to get a new book to read and chose Pilgrim’s Wilderness, which I highly recommend if you are into reading about eccentric people, off grid living, Alaska, and crime reporting (think Under the Banner of Heaven with a unique twist). The guy at the bookstore was playing some trance music, so I chatted with him a bit and learned that he was a DJ, which gave us some more to talk about. I tried to talk to him about God afterwards, which sort of flopped because drumming up spiritual conversations out of thin air is an awkward art and I am the type of person who always thinks of what I should have said 10 minutes later (doh!).
Anyways, I got on the plane and was sitting next to a young couple from Washington. We chatted about Alaska a bit and talked about my book too. Later on they offered to buy me lunch, and as I am not one to turn down free food, I accepted. I soon learned that they are missionaries to Togo. We talked a lot about that, talked about our spiritual journeys, and prayed together. I thoroughly enjoyed their company. A couple hours later we touched down in Portland; I was planning on staying at the Hostel but was quite unwilling to pay for a cab. I was delighted to learn that Portland has a light rail system — something I fell in love with in Phoenix. I sat on the train, taking in the sights and the sounds of the city — especially the people. I saw business professionals, street people, hipsters, minorities, and people who defy categorization (as all people really do, despite the fact that they might be partially associated with certain groups). I was overwhelmed by the size — I’ve lived in bigger cities but it has been a while. The same feeling that came over me in Anchorage, came over me in Portland, but magnified. The feeling of being overwhelmed. I saw good and bad — art, culture, food, neediness, confusion. I wondered if God had someone for me to meet, pray for, etc but I shut out the notion because the sensory overload and need of the city overwhelmed me.
I got off the MAX (light rail) briefly near Pioneer Square and walked around. I saw tents being set up and learned that it was for an event called Portland Feast. Someone told me that Portland is the informal foodie capital of America (sorry for lack of citation, I don’t remember!), a fact that I would come to appreciate more intimately in the near future. I guess I always knew Portland was the trendy diet capital (I’ll have a kosher, vegan, organic, non-GMO, fair trade cup of espresso please) ,but I didn’t know it was a gourmet capital. I saw many homeless people too. One young homeless guy (probably a teenager) had a sign that said something like “No support system, need help”. I also knew prior to coming to Portland, that it had a big New Age hippie-spirituality vibe. That point was driven home when I picked up a free periodical devoted completely to that subject. Inside were countless ads for psychics, dial-a-gurus, meditation regimens, etc. Obviously that vibe is pretty prominent if a free paper can be printed and circulated on it. I kept walking and saw a large crowd of people going to a soccer game or something. After that I got back on the Max and headed South. I though the Hostel was near Hawthorne Farm because it is on Hawthorne Boulevard, so I ended up going to Hillsboro with nowhere to stay.
I figured I would just camp out, I had no sleeping bag now, but I still had a tent and it wasn’t that cold. I couldn’t find any land that wasn’t off limits though. I probably could’ve got away with sleeping in this one mini-forest, but I try to follow the laws and it had signs saying “No Trespassing”. I wandered around a bit, went to a library, and Googled nearby motels. I bit the bullet and stayed in Dune’s Motel because it was cheap and I like the name (it is one of my favorite artists). I resent staying in motels because I’m cheap, but it was nice having a bed and shower, I will admit that.
The next morning I headed back into Portland to go to its library. I was trying to touch base with a friend in Vancouver, WA and also find potential camping spots, local businesses, and transportation hubs in Portland. The library is a large, multi-storied concrete building right in the downtown area. On that particular day, the library didn’t open till noon, so I was part of a large crowd waiting on the front steps. Many of the people in the crowd were homeless looking people, but it there were all kinds of people really. I sat down next to this one guy and chatted with him a bit. I learned that he was a recovering heroin addict on the methadone maintenance program. He told me that Portland is the heroin capital of the West. We talked a bit more and then he went to meet his friend. I went inside and got a list of addresses to go to — Stumptown Coffee, Voodoo Donuts, a microbrewery or two, and the Amtrak station (to go to Vancouver).
I left the library and started following my non-linear route (and getting lost from time to time) to my various destinations. I saw a young, black man outside the library standing on the bench and spouting off hostilities to no one in general or maybe everyone — “don’t look at me, I go around seeking who I may devour, wanna mess with me?”. I asked him if he was having a bad day and he said “don’t even talk to me”. I made my way to Voodoo donuts and a young homeless guy, who seemed to be casually homeless, asked me for some money. I was going to give him some after I went to the ATM, but he disappeared. Voodoo donuts has all kinds of interesting donuts, I got a maple bacon bar, and Oreo donut, and a Captain Crunch donut (which was bad). I also got a cup of Stumptown coffee, which was just coffee as far as I’m concerned. I gave half of my donuts to a guy who walked by because I didn’t want three donuts. He sat down and we chatted a bit. We talked about Portland and God briefly.
Delicous, except for the crunch berry one
After my doughnut feast, I wandered around and stumbled on Powell’s used books — another Portland local business that everyone raved about. It was cool, but it seemed like any other local bookstore (my favorite one is still Van Nice in Helena where all the books smell like Vanilla pipe Tobacco and I can talk to the owner about books and such). I bought a couple books on Portland and one about the adventures of John Muir. After I left Powell’s, I ran into the same homeless guy who asked me for money at Voodoo. We talked a bit about the city and stuff. While we were talking, a guy rode up on a bike and asked for a “point”, which is slang for a heroin needle. I wasn’t even looking to find users, and they kept popping up. There’s certainly a lot of seediness to Portland; not only did users keep turning up, it seemed that every corner had a strip club or adult theater. What liquor stores are to Anchorage, strip clubs are to Portland. I later learned that Portland actually had the highest amount of strip clubs per capita of any city in the nation.
Anyways, I made my way to the Amtrak station and found it unstaffed to my chagrin. Outside of it, a young looking guy asked for a couple bucks to buy a beer while he was waiting for his train. I offered to take him to a brewery and buy him lunch and beer. So we went in search of a brewery and when we found it, turned out to be closed. He didn’t have an ID anyways. We went to a little hole in the wall Mexican joint instead called Santeria, which was delicious, so good! I asked the owner if they had a bathroom and he said “Yeah, through that door in the back, past the slot machines to the left”. And suddenly naked woman! Yeah, apparently the bathroom was in the next door strip club (again showing how rampant the skindustry is in Portland). I walked out of the bathroom, took an inappropriately long second look, kicked myself mentally, and left. As we made our way back to the Amtrak station, my new friend begins to tell me how bad his feet hurt from blisters. I offered to pray for him and he let me. Afterwards he was like, “what did you just do, I can feel the blisters, but there is no pain! I’m tripping out right now, are you God?” I told him God lived in me and anyone who knows God can heal people. He had grown up in a Christian background and wasn’t against it, perhaps even partly identified it. So I used this opportunity to explain more to him about the Christian life and walking with God. We then parted ways and I got on an Amtrak to Vancouver.
I met up with my friend in Vancouver who I had not seen for a couple years, it was great to catch up with him. We went to our mutual friend’s house in Battle Ground and hung out there. The place in Battle Ground has our friend and his wife, his parents and siblings in another house, a few other young people, and a barn for church meetings and other people who don’t have a place to stay. They get a lot of people off the streets who are on drugs there. I got to stay there for a few days and hang out with friends and meet new ones. It was also very educational for me because I have a dream of starting a farm/faith based treatment center, and this is almost that. So I asked them some questions about how their ministry works. I had another interesting experience here too. That second look I took during my accidental strip club encounter would cost me. The whole time I was there I was trying to get that image out of my mind and it kept assaulting me. One night was so bad, I kept fighting and keeping myself busy. I eventually had to spend in an hour or so in intense prayer and declaring/praying the Bible. I was so frustrated; I think I swore more during that time of spiritual warfare than I had trying to set my tent up in Homer. I eventually got that victory though. After, I got the victory though, I walked through this dark room and saw a silhouette. I didn’t know if it was a person or spirit, so I said “what’s up bro” and walked towards it, when I got there it was gone. The Bible says we don’t struggle against people but against the spiritual realm –no wonder I was having such hard time. I felt like that thing had followed me from Portland or something. It was a sobering moment — I learned that the darkness in Portland is not something that is just going to roll over and disappear; while I have authority in Christ, I cannot take the forces of darkness lightly and not prepare for battle.
I definitely feel that I will have a relationship with Portland in the future, that I will be called there, if only for a time. I love this city of art, culture, food, and great people, but I can’t forget that not only is it the foodie capital but the heroin and strip club capital, and perhaps the spiritual confusion capital. I mentioned the young man I met in Montana from Portland in my Glory Be article, his piteous cry of “I need something, I’ll take anything” really defines a lot of what Portland is. I’m hoping to help those who “need something” in Portland, whether they are heroin addicts, spiritual seekers, or everything in between.
Back to my travels; I finished my time in Portland by visiting Mulnomah Falls with a new friend I met in Vancouver. It was very pretty, but crowded. We didn’t go all the way up but it was nice to see them. After the Falls I started to hitch hike and I said goodbye to Portland as fast as I had said hello, but not for forever.
Pilgrim's Map 