On the Road with Barry: Moscow, Idaho & Everett, Washington

Day 1

I’ve had this trip planned and scheduled for a couple of months now, but last week, it disappeared from my travel app. I went on the website to look it up by the confirmation number and/or the ticket number. No deal. I called the airline two different times, and two different times they assured me that they can see my flight. Don’t worry, they told me. All is well. I can’t check in for my flight twenty-four hours before departure. I have to do it at the airport on the morning of the flight, and carry a paper boarding pass like all the schmucks I unconsciously deride for not being able to do it on the app. Ugh. I hate karma…

Paper ticket in hand, I go through security. It’s belts, this time, that seem to be setting off the machine. The TSA agents are telling everyone within shouting distance that even if they’ve worn their belt through the scanner on other occasions, they should take their belt off this morning. Again, it’s like they’re speaking a different language. More people have to come back through the scanner, take off their belt, and go back through. I just don’t get it. Why do you think you’re better than the scanner? Why is your belt special?

One of the men’s restrooms in Terminal A at Intercontinental in Houston reminds me of a movie I saw about a guy in a Turkish prison. They spent a year renovating the one further down the hall, but it looks like a Turkish prison with brighter lighting. Turkish prison or not, I’d still rather use those facilities than those on the plane. I still don’t get people who wait until they get on the plane to use the facilities that would crowd a Lilliputian. Or the people who wait to eat until the plane takes off. They’ll buy a pizza or a sandwich in the terminal, then let it sit and get cold, only to eat it on the plane. If only everyone did things like me…

I flew into Spokane and drove to Pullman, which is right across the border from Moscow, Idaho. They have hotels in Moscow, but my Spidey-sense told me not to stay at any of them. I can’t fully explain it, but I’m in Pullman for the next three days.

PD: Brenda in the foreground of a panoramic photo of more amber waves of grain and a deep blue sky, despoiled with houses.

Day 2

I’m here to see Brenda, who wanted to make sure that her cane skills were good while she waits for guide dog number three. On my drive yesterday, down from Spokane, and today over to Moscow from Pullman, I’m surrounded by amber waves of grain. No. Seriously. This part of the country produces an enormous amount of wheat. The humongous, rolling hills, for as far as you can see in all directions, are filled with recently harvested or soon-to-be-harvested wheat. My cousin Tony, who spent his career in agri-business, told me that it’s a red-seeded wheat that is usually used for breads and pastas. Tony spent his career in agri-business when he wasn’t farming for Uncle Wayne, I should say. Anyway, it’s beautiful here.

PD: A gravel road splits the amber waves of grain, and is topped with a brilliantly blue sky dotted with white, puffy clouds.

I met Brenda, her husband, Paul, and retired guide dog Cedar, at their home before heading out for the day. Being Labor Day, Paul is off from work, which is great because the support of family members can be very beneficial to our clients. Family is famous for helping too much or not enough, but it’s always a tightrope walk to work with family. The fact that Paul WANTS to be there is a good sign. He wants to help Brenda be as independent as she can be.

Main Street in downtown Moscow is a bustling place. Moscow is a college town, being home to the University of Idaho, the Vandals! Most of the shops are open and seem to be thriving. Even on Labor Day, or maybe because of it, there were plenty of pedestrians around whom Brenda had to navigate. Some were paying attention and moved for her; some were not. Crowd work is always a lesson in patience. We crossed a few streets that Brenda wasn’t sure she could, then had lunch at a really good pita place. Since I’m sure you’d want to know, I had the falafel, and it was great.

Day 3

As I said, I’m staying over in Pullman, Washington, which is home to Washington State University. The Cougars. The campus is a little subdued this morning because the hometown Cougars lost to their hated rivals, the Washington Huskies, in the annual Apple Cup, and didn’t look too good in their loss. I’m not subdued because today I’m buying bread from a vending machine. I’ve been reading about Moscow Sourdough (it rhymes if you pronounce Moscow with an “OH” on the end, as you should if you’re a local) online and have been waiting for Tuesday morning. Fresh sourdough that’s put in a box outside and you pay for it with one of those cash-app things that I don’t know how to use. Luckily, the owner came out just as I was scratching my head and helped me make a purchase. I even brought my own butter so I could have fresh bread for breakfast! My culinary maven, Kate, would definitely approve.

I know that Brenda is gonna walk my legs off, so I don’t feel bad about having a second piece of bread. We walk all over her neighborhood and beyond, testing out routes that she’s been doing with her dogs since she moved here. Things are different with a cane and a guide dog. For instance, a dog is taught to travel from curb to curb when crossing a street. Most often, even from one wheelchair ramp to the other, even if they’re not lined up, which very often they are not. With a cane, though, there’s no reason to even look for a ramp if you don’t need it. Just plant your feet at the curb where you hit it with your cane, confirm your alignment, and cross when it’s safe. It’s not worth losing your good alignment at the curb in order to go looking for a wheelchair ramp that may or may not be there. I preach pace to all my clients. A consistent pace from one end of the block to the other will almost always give you good alignment at the corner. Brenda, I’m sure, is already tired of hearing me say it.

PD: Brenda uses her cane to navigate a dirt trail in a beautiful pine forest.

Day 4

We spent the morning at the arboretum, a place Brenda really likes to visit. It’s beautiful, like most arboretums I’ve been to, but it’s also a quiet place with big, wide, flat paths with mostly defined edges so Brenda can just get in the middle and go. She doesn’t have to worry about trailing some edge or crossing a street. Just enjoy nature. Now, if I can get Brenda to actually relax, I’d be a happy dude. This is a common story: long-time guide dog users are not always the best at trusting their cane, which has become a second-class citizen with the dog in the house. Everyone at Leader now encourages all of our guide dog users to maintain their cane skills because they’re gonna need ’em sometime during the life of the dog. Maybe you go to a Leonard Skinyrd concert or to the 4th of July fireworks. Both bad places for a dog. If you retire your dog, it could be a while before you get a replacement, and you’ll need your cane to get around safely in the interim. Keep up the cane skills, y’all.

For lunch I went to Silos and Social, a place with which Brenda was not impressed, but I think my culinary maven, Kate, would approve. A BLAT (BLT with avocado) on a fresh croissant. Nice.

This afternoon, we went to Idler’s Rest Nature Preserve, another place Brenda likes to hike and walk with friends. It’s more of the same thing we did this morning, but it’s a little bit wilder. We hiked one trail that ended up seeming as if it might not end, and I began to worry a little because neither one of us had any water, and I only had a tin of Altoids, which we would have ended up killing each other over if we ended up lost in the woods. I’m clearly bigger than Brenda and could overpower her, but she’s wiry and has some self-defense training. It might be a draw. Luckily, it didn’t come to that, and we ended up coming out about where I thought we might. Brenda learned that she can do this on her own, which is very freeing for her. I walked off this morning’s helping of sourdough, so it’s a win-win.

PD: Wearing a pink top and dark pants, Brenda uses her cane to walk up another hill. In the background are mountains. Beautiful, beautiful mountains.

Day 5

I’m driving over to Everett, Washington, today to see another client while I’m “in the area.” It’s going to be a beautiful drive, and I’m looking forward to it. I’ve already raved about the beauty of eastern Washington, but today I’ll get to see a real snapshot of the heart of the state. I’m taking the long route so I can follow the Columbia River initially; then the Wenatchee will take me on into Everett. Part of the area is also known for having the most numerous reported sightings of Bigfoot, so I’m totally expecting to see him. Or her. Or it. Whatever. Anyway, I’ll try to get a better picture than my predecessors WHEN I see it.

Farmland dominates the first half of my drive, then slowly the landscape changes from rolling hills to more jagged edges. I stopped and bought some peaches at a roadside stand when I thought I wouldn’t see any more, but I saw a lot more. Regardless, my peaches were fantastic. I picnicked along the Columbia River and ate one of them. The second half of the drive began, really, in Wenatchee, about the point where there wasn’t enough flat land on which to farm anymore. I went through the town of Leavenworth, which is set up like a Bavarian village. If you didn’t know you were in Washington State, the area around it looks a lot like what I would think Bavaria would look like. Road construction west of Leavenworth halted my second-half assault long enough for me to converse with the flag man, the one who stops you during one-lane-only traffic. Right. Him. I offered him one of my leftover peaches, but he declined, saying that he thought he might bruise it too much before he got to eat it. He did tell me about an eagle’s nest I could easily identify if only I weren’t driving, and what areas around Seattle to stay away from. His dad got stabbed with a screwdriver in a robbery attempt in a town with which I was unfamiliar, but I made it a point to watch my back while in the area.

Beautifully mountainous, my drive could only have been better if I’d been riding and not watching. You won’t see any nice photos because of that fact. You’ll just have to trust me. I’m also sure that I saw Bigfoot, at least seven times, but, alas, I was driving and couldn’t get a good shot of him. Maybe that’s everyone’s problem. Maybe they’re driving when they see him and can’t get a good picture because they’re scared of causing a car wreck. I’m sticking to my story that I saw him. You’ll have to trust me on that one, too.

I had a Greek burger and Greek fries at Nick’s Jr. after getting into town. It wasn’t amazing, but it did have enough feta cheese and tzatziki on it to make cardboard taste good. I went outside the recommendation of my culinary maven, Kate, again, and did pretty well for myself. But I’m sticking with Kate, who has yet to steer me wrong.

PD: Wearing a gray sweatshirt and jeans, Victor uses his cane while crossing a street

Day 6

Victor has had three dogs from Leader and is set on receiving dog number four. That’s why I’m here. To paraphrase Robert Altman’s Trapper John in M.A.S.H., “I’m the pro from Dover…” I know that went over most of y’all’s heads, but it really fit here. Aunt Shirley gets it. Right, Shirley? Anyway, Victor has a full day planned, running routes that he’s used to doing with his dog Dennis (Rodman). Kinda the same situation as with Brenda earlier this week, he wanted to make sure he could do things with his cane in case it takes a while to get another dog.

At Victor’s suggestion, we had pizza at a place called Brooklyn Pizza. Kinda apropos, as it was September 11. We reminisced about where we were and what we were doing on that day 25 years ago. I guess I’ll never forget, whether I want to or not. I had taken a group of O&M (orientation and mobility) students to visit The Seeing Eye in New Jersey, and we had a “free” day in Manhattan before the business part of the trip began. Because I’d gone several times before, I acted as a de facto tour guide to the young’ns who wanted to see all the sights. In August 2001, I had taken a group of kids to the observation deck of the North Tower, less than two weeks before. I’ve got a picture of all of us up there, but I’ve never looked at it. Maybe someday.

Day 7

Saturday. I believe this is Saturday. College football is on early in the morning on the West Coast. It has my internal clock messed up. I’m still eating fresh bread and butter for breakfast and have yet to be disappointed. Victor, like Brenda before him, has decided that I need to see every inch of his area, so I’m unconcerned about the carbs. I’m gonna need ’em for all the hill climbing I’m gonna do. Victor and I run a route down to the water, or close to it. Puget Sound. Then off to his co-op for groceries and then to the Choux Choux bakery. Yes, my culinary maven, Kate, would definitely approve. I got a fresh croissant, an apple tart, and a roll with a lot of cinnamon on/in it. Not a cinnamon roll, Choux Choux staff were quick to tell me. I didn’t care what they called it. I called it “good.” The folks on The Great British Baking Show (my favorite show behind True Grit and Lonesome Dove) would approve as well. The lamination in the croissant alone would make Paul Hollywood swoon!

We had BBQ for lunch and finished off the day with intersection analysis. Victor’s been living life with a visual impairment for a long time, but I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. Intersection analysis is all about pattern recognition. Which car do you hear now? From what direction is it coming and/or going? Is it going straight or turning? How many lanes are there? Stuff like that. Can you hear all that? Sighted folks would say “No” right off the bat, but if you listen, and there’s nothing seriously wrong with your hearing, you absolutely can hear all of that. And, if you can hear all that, you can recognize a pattern. And if you can recognize a pattern, you can cross a street. Victor can do that. Now I know he can, too.

Day 8

It’s gonna rain today, so Victor and I head to the mall. Y’all know just how much I love the mall. The only saving grace for going to a mall is if it contains an Orange Julius. This mall does not, so I’m checked out already. It’s important to Victor, so I’ll do my absolute best for him, even without the promise of an Orange Julius. I’m a professional, so I’ll put aside my personal feelings.

Everyone else in Everett had the same idea we did for this rainy day. It’s good work for Victor. We worked a long time on the perimeter of the mall, figuring out his route from the closest bus stop. With that figured out, inside we went. Victor is a good traveler, so he does fine. He even notices some patterns in the tile flooring that signal intersections and the direction of the hallways. Pretty perceptive. You figure things like this out when you need to. Victor’s good at that.

Tonight’s dinner at The Flying Pig was not seriously remarkable. Just a burger and fries at a place with a lot of TVs with all the Sunday football on. Nothing to tell my culinary maven about. Victor and I walked past this place about 12 times in the last two days. I don’t know how I missed it. It wasn’t bad at all. If you want to eat a good burger and watch whatever game is on, I’d highly recommend it.

I’m headed to Texas in the morning. It hasn’t broken 80 in the Northwest during my whole stay. Since I left Texas, it hasn’t stopped being the surface of the sun. Not looking forward to stepping out of the airport in Houston tomorrow…