Launch Alert: Isar Aerospace Onward and Upward

German rocket startup Isar Aerospace is gearing up for its next major launch window targeting early August. Following an intense period of data analysis, hardware fine-tuning, and navigating the unpredictable Arctic weather, the countdown is back on. 

Named "Onward and Upward," this mission is far more than just a second test flight—it is an essential qualification mission meant to prove that a privately built, commercial rocket can conquer orbit from continental European soil.

Here is everything you need to know about why this launch is a massive deal, how Isar got to this point, and exactly what to look for when the countdown hits zero.

The Backstory: Learning from the First 30 Seconds

Building a orbital rocket from scratch is notoriously brutal. In March 2025, Isar Aerospace rolled its inaugural Spectrum rocket out onto the pad at Andøya Spaceport in northern Norway. It cleared the tower beautifully—proving the immense challenge of liftoff—but about 30 seconds into the flight, an anomaly triggered the flight termination system, sending the vehicle into an unpowered descent into the sea.

Rather than being deterred, the team near Munich leaned entirely into a philosophy of rapid, vertical-integration engineering. They analyzed the telemetry, iterated on their designs, and built entirely new vehicles in their massive manufacturing facility. After a few nail-biting scrubs earlier this year due to finicky pressurization valves and local range constraints, the Spectrum rocket is back on the pad, smarter and more refined than before.

What Makes Spectrum So Cool?

Spectrum is a two-stage, 28-meter-tall light-lift launcher designed to capture the booming small-to-medium satellite market. It brings a few highly unique engineering choices to the table:

• Propane Power: The rocket utilizes a clean-burning combination of liquid oxygen and liquid propane. This makes it highly efficient and a much more environmentally sustainable option compared to traditional kerosene-based launchers.

• The Aquila Engine Array: The first stage relies on a cluster of nine in-house developed "Aquila" engines, while the second stage uses a single vacuum-optimized Aquila variant. This cluster strategy mirrors the design philosophy of modern heavy-lifters, offering excellent thrust control. 

• All-Carbon Composite Structure: To maximize its power-to-weight ratio, Spectrum is fabricated almost entirely from advanced carbon composites, allowing it to carry up to 1,000 kg to Low Earth Orbit (LEO).

    

Why This Launch Matters for Europe

Right now, Europe is facing an absolute crunch for sovereign space access. If "Onward and Upward" is successful, it will mark the first time a private commercial entity has successfully launched satellites into orbit from the European mainland.

Backed by the European Space Agency's (ESA) Boost! initiative, this flight is carrying its very first real-world passengers: five educational and commercial CubeSats alongside a specialized tech experiment. The mission is a massive litmus test for commercial space resilience across the continent.

 

An Arctic Launch

The rocket is launching from Andøya Island, which sits way up in the northern wilderness of Norway. To put its location into a US-centric perspective, if you drove north from Fairbanks, Alaska, 310 miles, you would hit the same latitude as the launch site. 

While places like Cape Canaveral in Florida launch sideways over the Atlantic to catch the Earth's spin, Andøya is built for a completely different highway to the skies.

Because it sits on the edge of a massive, empty Arctic Ocean, rockets can launch straight north without flying over a single house, city, or flight path. This makes it the perfect, safest place in Europe to shoot satellites into polar orbits—the paths that loop vertically around the Earth's poles to track things like global weather and maritime shipping.

Key Milestones to Watch on Launch Day

When the live stream goes up (roughly an hour before T-0), keep your eyes glued to these critical flight phases:

• T-0 to 30 Seconds — Ignition & Tower Clearance: Watch for clean, uniform thrust distribution from all 9 Aquila engines as the vehicle leaves the pad. 

• Max-Q (~1 Minute) — Pushing Past the 30-Second Mark: This is the point of maximum aerodynamic pressure. Pushing past this milestone will officially validate their structural engineering and clear the hurdle that cut the first flight short. 

• Stage Separation — MECO & Sep: Watch for the main engines to cut out (MECO) and the carbon-composite first stage to cleanly part ways from the upper stage under extreme structural force.  

• Second Stage Burn — Upper-Stage Ignition: The single vacuum-optimized Aquila engine must ignite flawlessly and burn steadily to accelerate the payload into its precise target orbital velocity.

        
The Big Picture: Isar's ambitions are massive. They just signed a major facility agreement to expand launch capabilities to Nova Scotia, Canada, with a vision of eventually flying up to 40 times a year. But as any aerospace engineer will tell you, you have to conquer your first orbit before you can conquer the globe.

All eyes are on Andøya Spaceport. Let's see if Spectrum can punch its ticket to the stars!

Return to Terminal D

I wrote once, almost exactly two years ago, that I left my heart in Terminal D, when I dropped Sam off at the airport to head back to Australia by way of Hawaii. I did the same today, but in a very different mindset. 

I've had too many heartbreaks with him. Too many goodbyes. That I haven't learned my lesson is but evidence that I am an imperfect human. Or maybe I have more lessons still to learn. But it stems from a very commonly understood neurobiological framework: much like a gambler's addiction, it is a response to an intermittent reinforcement schedule. I have struggled with an addiction, of sorts, to the uncertainty if he'll be sweet or self-serving. Moment to moment, we spar and I pull the lever of the slot machine to see what it'll be. I'm usually disappointed, which is why my relationship with him is a drain on me. But every so often, he is wonderful, and we share a moment of awe that bonds us. And that payout feels big, even if it doesn't compensate for the prior or future losses. I don't hold any false hope that he will miraculously change and become the love of my dreams and give me my happy ever after, at least not anymore. But I still go back for that hit of dopamine even though I know it's bad for me. 

When we first met in person, I had a moment of sadness knowing he would be leaving soon. His intuition that my mood had shifted felt like he was reading my mind and knew me on a very deep level. I felt seen. He comforted me, even though that would be the first of many bittersweet goodbyes. 

After a misunderstanding led to a chilling of our relationship, I thought it might be over then, and reflected that we still had the wonderful Scotland memories, which are still some of my favorites. 

When I bid him goodbye last year as I left Australia, I thought it very probable that would be the last time I'd see him, even though his ever-positive outlook assured me otherwise. While our discussions about our plans for the future early in the relationship had included living together and determining where in the world we'd want to move to, the narrative changed early last year and the inversion of reality started to rear its ugly head. I was made to believe he had never indicated we were aligned on those plans to live together. That wasn't the only topic on which I felt gaslighted, but it was the most painful one. He regularly would explain to me why his version of reality was the only logical, correct one, and would dismiss anything I'd say as irrational or emotional. He used to love telling me how he is the logical one and he always dates emotional women, which has led me to the belief that he causes women to be emotional because of his dismissal of anything but his own version of reality. 

I ended the relationship at the end of the year when he confirmed that he would never live with a romantic partner, not in the US, not in Sydney, not anywhere, and we both knew, as I made it abundantly clear, that that was not going to work for me. He pleaded with me to stay in his life as friends, and he left the door open for me to reach out while abiding by my request for no contact. 

Stupidly, I opened that door. I invited him to join me in our favorite midpoint - Hawaii - and specifically, an island neither of us had visited yet, Kauai. The onslaught of excited messages when we reconnected was too much, and it freaked me out. Thankfully, either reading my energy or just getting bored, it slowed down, but he did join me in Kauai. I was grateful for his company when swimming in the ocean, as I have a little bit of a fear of being in the water by myself. But I put a firm boundary on him when he kept making managing of his comfort my problem. The rest of the visit was taxing, but overall, okay. Even though he was exhausting, I still felt a sense of loss when I dropped him off at the airport. I should really stop doing that, maybe I should make him Uber next time. 

The World Cup, though, that might be the final straw. I know I've moved the goal line a few times with him, and I think he's misled me a few times before I set those bounds, but this is so glaring, it seems impossible to (ir-)rationalize a way out of it. 

He'd been talking about coming to Dallas for the World Cup since I've known him - he's a big soccer (football) fan and so understandable that going to a World Cup game was a big thing to him. Because I opened that door to friendship after we ended our romantic pursuit, he would continually check with me that I would go with him to the games. He sugar coated it with, "I want to spend time with you," and wanting to share that experience with me. When I started to feel a little pressure around booking things, I told him since this was his thing, that I wasn't going to pay for the hotel, but that I was excited to go with him. He immediately pivoted to say it's not that big of a deal to go, and he would just come to visit me in Fort Worth, and we'd just spend time together. The about-face was alarming, considering how much he had talked about it over the last two years, and he gave up so quick. 

But then, he and his Australian friend decided it was too good to miss out on, so they got tickets to two games in the northeast for the Australian team, and tagged his visit to me at the end of that (along with a few days in Hawaii - must be nice). I was frustrated that he didn't invite me - he's never let me meet his friends or family which was always a red flag when we were trying to date, but now even as friends, I was disallowed even though I had expressed interest in going so long as it wasn't on my dime this time. The amount of vacation time he took to accomplish all this was also staggering, considering how he'd cut short every other trip with me on account of not having enough vacation time at work. 

Honestly, after reading and reflecting, I was ready to cancel his visit here. I knew it would be draining for me. And I was pissed that I wasn't invited (allowed?) to go to the games with him. But the kind of overly generous person I am wouldn't let me do that to him, even if he clearly deserves it. So I just managed my own emotions and desires as best I could to survive the visit. It wasn't bad per se, it just wasn't fulfilling. But more importantly, it proved again and definitively how he absolutely understands what I want and need, AND puts no effort into satisfying those unless they happen to overlap with his own desires. 

I decided to capitalize a little on the situation by asking him point blank if his buddy paid for everything. He said they split it, which makes sense, but admitted they stayed very far out of the cities and with friends to save on money, an arrangement that was never and would never be an option for me. 

I can never convince myself that he doesn't realize or understand my needs, because he is so keenly observant and intuitive. He called out directly the fact that I wasn't taking many selfies with the two of us - and compared it to before. But he moved on so quickly, it was obviously not hurtful enough or even important enough for him to be curious and ask why. The reason, in case you are wondering, dear reader, is because after I ended our romantic relationship, even when I opened the door to a travel buddy friendship, I'd kept him out of my public and social life, the way he'd done with me for our entire relationship. So there is little need for selfies if I intend to share them with no one. Indeed, I am hesitating and have held off on publishing this post, because it still hurts and I am maybe a little embarrassed. 

There was only one thing firmly planned into his short visit here - a show that was part of my season tickets, the dates of which I moved to accommodate when he'd be here. So on Sunday, we went to see the play Clue, and it was pretty good, although I prefer musicals. The game Clue being a big part of my childhood, before going to the show we had a conversation that exemplifies what I have always adored about our relationship - the comparing and contrasting of our lives and cultures in the US and Australia, respectively. The game was called Clue-do for him, and I had been aware of that name, like in the UK, but never knew why it was called that. So, Sam looked it up as he does, and we had a moment of learning and sharing. 

Other than that, we slept in, watched the soccer matches on TV, did his obligatory shopping (I think I need to pass on this in the future, perpetually), and he did his walks in the afternoon, followed by a swim in my pool together. I let him drive the plans for the days and deferred to him for activities. I did think it was odd that he took a nap during one of the games rather than strive to stay up for the 90 minutes, given his urgency for watching the games otherwise. 

He wanted to go to Fan Fest so we set our sights on that for the last day and I drove the 45 minutes out, only to be denied at the gate because we hadn't secured our free admission tickets and they were now "sold out." This seemed like a miss on his part for planning, although I understand he didn't know it would sell out. But if it was so important we go, we probably should have just gotten our free tickets beforehand. We ended up at the Londoner Pub which had a great atmosphere of cheering fans, good food and drinks, and was out of the sun. Mr. Positivity said it was better than Fan Fest would have been. He has a way of always finding the silver lining and a declared belief that "everything happens for a reason," but I suspect its dishonest in times like this. At least he didn't blame me, I guess. 

But one of the biggest things I wanted to see with this visit was if he'd give me the physical romantic touch that I so crave and never get enough of. I'll be honest, when I re-opened the door for a travel buddy earlier this year, I was on the fence as to whether I'd set a boundary on being affectionate physically or not, and because I wasn't sure myself, when he went for the kisses in Kauai, I allowed that to determine the answer. So we were physically affectionate in Kauai, but of course not enough to actually satisfy me, and I let him know. On this trip, and especially on the final day, him saying once again that he was "too tired" to cuddle and had to make his tea and had to digest his food and, and, and… and that's just it. Perhaps it would have been better for me, knowing how limited he liked to keep his physical affection when we were trying to be a proper couple, to have set the hard limit that we were strictly friends with no benefits or love language touchiness or kisses. Then the boundary would have been mine and he wouldn't have been able to disappoint me. But I failed to make that choice, which once again put him in the driver's seat, opening the door not for something wonderful, but for my feelings of never being satisfied. 

So as I bid him goodbye yet again at Terminal D, with his positivity that we'll see each other again soon, I bid him a more final goodbye in my head, although not entirely in my heart. 

I am grateful for the lessons I've learned. Sam triggered me to face my childhood trauma, something that, for years, I had suspected was lurking deep down, but didn't want to face it before. Having to face my own personal brand of messed-up-ness, to learn how that translates into not just my romantic relationships but my friendships, family relationships and work, and finding strategies to ground myself in my own self-worth were all really valuable. I needed to go through that eventually, and he kick started that journey. 

When I ended things with Jaiman after nearly 10 years, I was comforted by the knowledge that our happy memories were still mine to cherish, but I wasn't grateful for the relationship because it didn't help me grow - if anything, I may have become a worse version of myself with Jaiman's influence in my life. With Sam, I am grateful for the relationship because of the personal reflection it has forced upon me, and yes I have some cherished memories that are technically still mine to keep, but they are tainted with the knowledge that I was never actually totally happy with Sam. It's a different kind of goodbye then. 

Is it the final goodbye? I'd be kidding myself if I said it was this time. I have more clarity and gravity in my position today, but the eternal optimist in me believes that people can change when they believe they must. So while I have no delusions that I can force Sam to change, and I have a large majority of doubt that even the threat of my renewed absence in his life would spur a change in him, I hold space that if he really sees the value I bring to his life, both tactical and emotional, in whatever mix he so chooses, that it could, potentially, with the slightest of probabilities, cause him to look in the mirror. In other words, I'm not opening the door anymore, but I am not ready to shut it and lock it. I will leave it cracked just a hair, and let him do the heavy lifting, if that's what he chooses to do. And I'm not going to kid myself that the likelihood in anything more than absolutely miniscule. 

So it's a heavy goodbye, today, because it carries nearly as much weight as a final goodbye would, because I have no reason to believe he will change his tune and make me feel valued. The weaponization of my generous "polite survivor" mentality and of my perpetual optimism have taken tolls greater than I wish to admit. I have allowed myself to over-accommodate and manage his emotional and physical needs while settling for scraps, and that allows him to remain content and self-assured in his reality that he knows what's best. No more. I cannot accept a poor quality and low-resolution relationship. I have no more trips firmly planned with him, and I have no need to lock anything in with him ever again. 

Awe: Unscreened

Kauai is known as the Garden Isle for its lush greenery, and the name is well deserved at that. But the feature that has continually impressed me the most is the scale and angles of the mountains that rise from the middle of the island. Any view from any angle is an awe-inspiring moment which cannot adequately be captured on photos. I still try, of course, on an ongoing basis. But this beauty cannot be captured on a screen. It needs to be felt and seen with no filters, or at least through a car (or helicopter) window and nothing else.

It's the same feeling I've felt often when hiking around Yosemite, and once as I drove to a peak near Big Bend. The monolithic heights, and sheer drop of the cliffs, have to be seen to be understood and appreciated fully.

It made me wonder if the meta augmented reality world promised in sci-fi that feels to be nearing nonfiction could ever, even with significant advances in technology, provide the same feeling, and inspire the same awe, as the real thing. I love technologies and futurism, but of accomplishing this feat, I am skeptical.

To the contrary, I believe the more plugged in to a technologically easier, comfortable, and productive life we are, the greater the need will be to travel to places like this and feel the wonder irl. When so much is possible through CGI and generative AI, the wonder is necessarily lessened as we are desensitized and trained to be skeptical of the images. Only when you are certain you can believe your eyes and behold the beauty of nature in its unedited, imperfect and organically generated form, and you feel those feels.

Perhaps the worst part is that our needs for these genuine, screenless experiences rise, so will the devastation of the natural beauty in service of our comfort, unsustainable consumption of resources and AI power needs, etc. Putting aside morality, it would be a simple logical tradeoff if we could simply replace the fading beauty with equally mesmerizing experiences, but I just don't think we can. 

There is a profound comfort in standing before something that wasn't built for me, wasn't designed for a user experience, and doesn't care if I’m looking. That indifference is exactly what makes it real. If we lose the sheer, terrifying scale of a cliffside to power the servers that mimic it, we haven't just lost a landscape—we’ve lost the ability to feel the very awe
we were trying to digitize.

Perhaps the future isn't about choosing between the digital and the natural, but about treating these real-world vistas as sacred sites of sensory truth. Protecting these places is a form of protecting our own humanity.

 

Touch Water

The kids these days say they need to "touch grass" which is a new fangled way of saying what ancient people knew - that there is something special, even magical, about getting into nature and experiencing the beauty of plants and animals and landscapes.

I'm deathly allergic to many plants, and especially grass, so touch grass doesn't resonate with me. But when I see an ocean, I can't wait to get my feet into it. I love swimming and snorkeling, too, and boating and cruising, but even if I am without a swimsuit, I am lured to the waters edge to get my feet in, at least. That's my version of touch grass. 

Unfortunately there's not a lot of ocean in Texas, and zero near Fort Worth. So escaping to Hawaii is always a desire, despite the long flight and expense (and I tend to make the latter worse to ease the former vis-a-vis upgrading to first class for the trip). 

I arrived last night on an island new to me - Kauai. It had been my goal to get here ever since I learned I could take a helicopter tour to the waterfalls in Jurassic Park, and I booked the trip while on my solo writing and research trip on Astoria, Oregon, as a way to keep the independent sovereign vibes going. Work has been incredibly busy and stressful on a more personal level - dealing with personnel issues and BS office politics,my least favorite hassles, and this trip couldn't come soon enough. Disconnecting and decompressing is often a struggle for me, and it is especially true today. The trip here was longer than it needed to be due to delays, and it honestly wore me out, although I did manage to read in entirety two books by Andrew Yang! 

After stopping at Target near the airport and then making the trek to the hotel that took close to an hour, during which my energy hit a wall, I crashed hard in bed last night. This morning, I woke up with the threat of a migraine, and the Sunday brunch at the hotel restaurant sounded like exactly what I needed to recharge. I don't usually eat a big breakfast but since I hadn't eaten in several hours before bed last night, I was famished. 

 

While getting ready, I caught a glimpse out my window of two Nene's waddling across my patio. I grabbed my phone and rushed to the door to take a few photos of these rare, endangered birds found only here in Hawaii. A tuxedo cat also graced my patio. Turns out, I needn't have hurried because the Nene's population has apparently made a strong comeback due to the protections put in place for them and they were all over the hotel property! As I ate breakfast on the lanai, several nenes were hanging out by the pool and a mama chicken and her little chicks were wandering around the lanai hunting for charity from the guests. A red-headed cardinal daringly landed on my table and would have eaten right off my plate had I not shooed him away just inches before he got it. He snagged some eggs from the guest at the table next to me, which attracted a flutter of birds. Meanwhile, I watched with amusement as a staff member took a couple pictures of the crowd of Nenes bathing in the pool before attempting to shepherd them away. He got a bunch of them through the beach loungers, towards the open grassy field, before they darted around the chairs and escaped back towards the pool. He quickly turned around and met them on the other side, trying to get between them and the pool, but one by one, they bravely ran past him and he had to start all over again. 

As I paid my bill, I noticed it was time for the feeding at the koi pond, so I found a cozy spot on a beach lounger overlooking the pond and watched as the kids fed the fish for a few minutes. I walked around the hotel property and tried to make it to the beach proclaimed by the "public beach access" but it looked like a muddy mess and I wasn't convinced it would be worth it. So I got in my car, put the top down (at risk, with the overcast sky) and went for a drive. 

On my way to a lookout, I clocked many Nene crossing signs, both formal and improvised, and had the perfect view of five or six flying just above the road. A short distance later there were a huge group of them on the side of the road. 

The lookout was pretty but a bit crowded. I drove down the road in search of a beach but the connection here is bad an I ended in a cul-de-sac so I decided to stop and take in the nature. As I am parked writing this, a fully red cardinal landed on my mirror for a split second before being startled likely by my head movement to look at it. What a cutie, though! I also heard, among the cock-a-doodle-doo's of the chickens and the squeaky songs of some other birds, and knocking sound perhaps of a woodpecker, but it only went off a few times before I stopped hearing it. It's raining now, and that is bringing down my spirits a bit, but I wanted to jot down some thoughts of the special moments and the joy I have in seeing these animals and the beauty of the flowers, so many seem absolutely perfect. I think that's what I need is just nature's perfect and hilarious unexpected wild animals. Enjoying and appreciating them is a special treat, and one I desperately needed. 

I find it funny that so many of my Life List items - which should generally be something of a once in a lifetime event - have turned into a normal, frequent thing. The most predominant example that comes to mind is seeing a show on Broadway. My sister and I saw Wicked when we were in NYC for a wedding. Check! I assumed that was pretty much done. It was awesome! And I'm so grateful we got to do that. Then my boyfriend at the time, Rick, and I planned a trip to NYC. As a gift to me, he wanted to get me tickets to a musical but because he's not really into musicals, he chose the one he felt was most approachable - Wicked. So I saw it on Broadway again. I definitely didn't mind! Later in life, while I was dating Jaiman, we made the tough decision to move to Connecticut with my job. The biggest benefit of living there was the proximity to NYC, and especially Broadway, and we made the most of it. In the year we lived there, we went to more than 10 Broadway shows, including Hamilton (twice), and a handful of off-Broadway hits as well (Spamilton s hilarious!). Moving away didn't end our Broadway attendance. Shortly after we moved, I learned that an alum of my high school whom I vaguely knew was preforming in Chicago! I figured I'd have to go see him sometime. Then COVID happened and I followed his story on social media about how, with the theaters closed, he moved back in with his parents. I bought cookies from him. When Broadway reopened post-pandemic, I wasn't going to procrastinate. He shared dates he'd be performing and I booked a trip. Never mind that it was in January, arguably the worst time to venture to NYC, we were going! We made it in just before a snow storm, and upon landing learned our departing flight was cancelled and we had to rebook for later. Ah well, guess we'll add another show to our trip! We used the opportunity to go to Hadestown. So a once in a lifetime Life List things had been done in spades. 

I'm drawing that parallel to this trip, because another life list thing was too photograph an endangered species. As we were hiking Haleakala on Maui a few years ago, my nephew, David, and I spotted the endangered Nene. Our photos were blurry but it was definitely then! Check! Now to be on this island and see so many Nenes and take literally dozens of pictures of different ones - it's almost ordinary if I didn't know how extraordinary it actually is. 

Let me never take from granted this extraordinary life, and let me perpetually grateful for this extraordinary world. 

Oh, and I did finally touch water.

Don't Be a Miserable Squatter: Essential Tips for Your Astoria Trip

I feel like Astoria should be one of those places I only need to visit once. And really, did I actually need to go at all? Yet, despite the terrible weather and the unpleasant fishy smell and the undesirable hiking, there's a pull on me to go back again in the future. I wouldn't want to live there, to be sure, but maybe a ten year anniversary trip to commemorate my book, or something, would be fun. Regardless, I thought I'd document my learnings for future travelers to Astoria, myself included. 

Before You Go

Learn the history before you go. Of course I'd be remiss if I didn't promote my book, "The Miserable Squatter’s Guide to Manifest Destiny." Other good ones depending on what part of the history you want to read about include "Astoria: An Oregon History" by Karen L. Leedom, "Kanaka" by Tom Koppel, and "Astor: The Rise and Fall of an American Dynasty" by Anderson Cooper and Katherine Howe. For good visuals, I recommend the Postcard History book "Astoria" by  Andrea Larson Perez, and "Astoria: An Adventure in History" by John Goodenberger which is hilariously illustrated by Roger McKay. 

The Grotto (and Labyrinth)

If flying into Portland, I highly recommend the stop here, exactly as I did. Would not change a thing. The Labyrinth was so unexpectedly experiential, I'd be interested in hearing what others feel and experience on their own journeys. 

First Stop: The Column

I would definitely recommend starting at the Astoria Column (drive, don't walk like I did), especially if the sky is blue and visibility is clear. I suggest this mainly because you get the free passes to all the other museums with your parking fee, so it’s a money saver in that regard, but also because it's a quick drive up and the parking pass is good for days, so you can keep returning as I did for different views (day/night, gloomy/clear). 

If the weather is good and you're up for a hike, do the Cathedral Tree Trail just off the parking lot. The forest is gorgeous and the views on a clear day could be really cool. 

If you think you'd like to sit and enjoy the views, bring a towel with you to wipe off the chairs (even on a clear day, it is a generally moist environment, so better to have the towel and not need it…). 

You can buy a little glider at the gift shop. If you're up for a climb, go up the windy stairs to the top, I'm sure the view from up there is amazing and probably unobstructed. You'll be able to see the ocean on a clear day. 

Other Recommended Places

Definitely visit The Heritage Museum and Flavel House Museum. I am not a museum person and I thoroughly enjoyed both of these, especially knowing the stories behind the artifacts I was seeing. 

Your visit to Astoria is not complete without stopping at the Fort Astoria / Fort George park. There's no admission, and there's really not much to do there, so just go on your way to something else, it'll take five minutes, twenty if you really push it. 

I didn't visit the Film Museum but if you are a film fan or Goonies fan, it is undoubtedly a good place to stop. There are also a couple shops / businesses that are Goonies themed if you're interested as well. 

Grab a tea, a loaf of sour dough, and/or lunch at the Blue Scorcher Bakery and Café. It was so good, I went twice for the grilled cheese. The chai tea was "all spice, no sweet" as the barista told me, and it delivered! 

Fort George Brewery had great pizza, great beer and a great atmosphere. Definitely a good stop. I didn't make it to the Astoria Brewery, but it would be on my list if I went back. 

Where to Stay

I noticed a place called the Cannery Pier & Spa when looking at a map or something, and it seemed like a cool place to stay potentially. 

That being said, I cannot say enough about where I stayed. The historic Captain Johnson house hosted by John on Airbnb was absolutely perfect. It was cozy inside, the bathroom was perfectly operable (and I'm very judgey about bathrooms), the toiletries were lovely, the bed was comfortable, there was furniture for sitting, eating and working, a kitchenette for preparing and storing food, TVs with streaming, board games and notably Goonies-themed games which might have been fun to play with others, especially fans. It was walkable to food, shops, sites and museums, and parking was no problem (unless your parallel parking is rusty - an opportunity to practice!).

General Recommendations

As far as solo trips like this goes, I should have brought my portable tripod because there were a few times I wished I could have someone take a picture of me instead of my usual selfie, and there wasn't always someone around (and I don't really like to ask people - lol). Especially at the Astoria Column, it would have been nice to capture different angles. 

As with walking most places, I would definitely recommend varying your routes when you can, go up one street and back down on another, and also varying which side of the street you walk on. I noticed more historic markers this way, and more details like lovely flowers and different scenic views. 

As a bonus, Pokemon Go actually helped me identify a headstone I hadn't realized was there, so it pays off to play Pokemon Go as one way of exploring a new place. 

Gloom, Goals and Grilled Cheese: My Astoria Journey

For the week of Thanksgiving, since I am not a turkey-stuffing-gravy-kind of person, I did something a bit out of the ordinary for me, but it was glorious because it was 100% for me. I took a solo trip to Oregon, flying into Portland and then driving to and staying in Astoria. Inspired by what started as an AI-generated rabbit hole of curiosity which had spewed out the makings of an obscure non-fiction historical book, I wanted to spend time in the place I had written 20,000+ words about, visit the museums, see the places, feel the cool, damp environment, and grasp additional interesting anecdotes and tales to further develop my manuscript. The trip, though, was so much more than what I could describe. But here is my attempt, anyways. 

I did the things, to be sure, and ate the foods, with delight. But the emotional journey and ups and downs, the growth in reframing inconveniences as opportunities instead of small catastrophes, sort of mimics the story of Astoria, and I pulled from the perseverance of the people who survived the unthinkable to manage my emotional tribulations. 

The trip had been planned for months, as is my way, but a number of factors had me in a state of stress prior to departing. For one, I had multiple challenging personnel issues at work that were weighing heavily on my mental state and taking up a lot of my thinking capacity. While I know I am not seriously considering quitting, it does seem like if I could find a way to make the same comfortable living with writing, that would be far more preferred. Romantically, I've been in a weird purgatory state that I suppose is largely self-imposed, or at least, I could break out if I really wanted to, but for some reason, I'm stubbornly allowing myself to reside in that space even though I find it hugely unpleasant. But even if I could bring myself to do it, breaking out of that state would not instantly solve the underlying pain of being single and not wanting to be. My ever-present ambitions in constantly changing topics and talents provides rabbit holes for me to utilize to feel productive while actually procrastinating on actually finishing whatever I've set out to do. 

So as I finished packing the night before my flight, and even as I drove to the airport, I was aware of the intrusive thoughts and my heightened stress level, both of which needed to be calmed for this trip to have the significance I wanted for it and to achieve my objective: finish and set for publishing my manuscript. 

Two mimosas into the flight, I was starting to feel a little bit better, and when the flight attendant apologized for running out of champagne, I switched to a red wine to round me off before I had to sober up for the drive. The alcohol and first class service helped take the edge off for me, and I settled into the book I was reading for additional info on my subject of study. 

Upon arriving in Portland, I was fighting travel stress as I walked the long corridors of the airport to the rental car center. Avis had my car ready for me but it was an EV, which instantly gave me range anxiety knowing the distance I'd be traveling. I tried to change my car on the app but, as is typical of Avis, the app didn't want to log me in and sent me through a spiral of infuriating technical issues that didn't need to be at all. I finally gave up and decided to take the chance on the less than 300 mile range, and I'd figure out how to charge it in Astoria if needed. Or I'd let myself be stranded and have another reason to hate Avis. (I only use them because that's what my company uses so my points are through that. Otherwise, I much prefer National.) 

(Partial) Day 1: The Grotto (and especially the Labyrinth) - 12,191 steps

Before heading to Astoria, I had planned for myself a quick stop to the nearby Grotto. I don't recall how I had originally learned about this place, but it was a very short drive from the airport and I figured it'd be good to stretch my legs before the drive. The Grotto itself was very cool, but not as dramatic as I perhaps had hoped. I spent most of my visit wandering the Upper Gardens which features lots of religious sculptures and places as well as gorgeous trees and a small stream. I knew I wanted to do the Labyrinth, so I headed straight there, stopping only occasionally to take in the fresh air or snap a scenic photo. 

There were two women there when I walked up, one was sitting while her companion was walking the Labyrinth. I gave her space while taking a few pictures on the side, and once they left, I embarked on my Labyrinth journey. 

I assumed the labyrinth would wind around the outside and eventually nearing and then entering the center. Instead, it actually took me quickly right next to the center, and then out again. I noticed that there were a lot of sharp switchbacks right away in rapid succession. As I continued on, the distance between the switchbacks lengthened. I imagined this was by design, a way of calling our attention to the quick turns as we got into the groove, pulling us out of our intrusive thoughts. The walk felt more meditative as the long stretches grew longer. When I made it to the center, I did feel a bit transformed, and certainly calmer, almost feeling achieved (even though all I had done was walk on a given path). My desire to capture the moment prompted a quick selfie, after which I returned my phone to my pocket and allowed myself to focus on the nature around me for a few moments. When I was feeling better, I started my journey back out, following the path in reverse. The long lengths between switchbacks gradually becoming shorter made me think it was like the Labyrinth was slowly bringing us back into this world, gently waking us up and reminding us of the real things via the twists and turns. As I was so engrossed in my thoughts and feelings about the labyrinth, a leaf falling near me caught my eye and honestly startled me as much as the sudden appearance of a bear would have. I laughed a little at myself and continued on. At one point, I had a dread of being lost, which is sort of hilarious, given its just a flat layout of stones and I could easily just walk off at any time. But I was certain for a moment that I had somehow mistakenly gotten on the wrong the path and was now headed in the wrong direction. It was quickly resolved, though, as I continued and realized I was nearing the beginning. 

What a weird experience! Or rather, set of weird experiences, as there were so many emotions felt along a relatively short and exteriorly uninteresting journey. As I walked away towards another part of the garden, I considered that I wouldn't want to walk a labyrinth regularly, at least not of that scale, because I didn't like the switchbacks; they halted my movement in a way that actually felt unnatural and uncomfortable for my hips. But the meditative state achieved by following a pre-established path, so that I didn't have to think about things like watching cars at street crossings or making decisions about which way to go, could be recreated in other ways. 

The rest of the gardens were beautiful but I didn't have much to note, other than overhearing a passing woman say to her friend that she felt like she was in Twilight, which I totally understood. We were, in a way, since much of it was filmed in Oregon. 

My drive was through wet, foggy conditions, and my thoughts were haunted by the rapidly decreasing range on the car. I would definitely have to charge it before attempting to drive back to Portland. I tried to put this unnecessary anxiety out of my mind. As I neared Astoria, I caught sight of a huge lumber enterprise, which I knew had been one of the supporting industries during the time of interest in the book I was writing. As I glimpsed the modern operations, I tried to imagine what it looked like in the 1840's to 1860's, and was wholly impressed with both. 

I found my AirBnB easily; an iconic historic home built towards the end of my period of interest, and close to the sights and museums I'd be visiting. Utilizing my rarely exercised parallel parking skills, I got the car in place just outside the house, entered with my code and brought my things in. The bathroom and bedroom were upstairs, so I left my backpack and a few things in the living room downstairs and took the rest of my stuff up the tight, awkward staircase. Since it was already dark and late, I was in for the night, and a little exhausted, to be honest. I passed out easily and awoke early the next morning on my own. 

Day 2: Fort Astoria, Heritage Museum and Maritime Museum - 16,352 steps

It smells like fish. The minute I stepped out of the house the smell hit me, and it is not a smell I enjoy in the least. 

My body didn’t seem to get the memo that I could sleep in. After a little more than 6 hours of sleep, I was ready to go. I am a morning person, to be fair, but I wouldn't have minded a little extra sleep without an alarm to interrupt. Nevertheless, I had a lot to do and I was excited to get going, but the museums didn't open until later in the morning, so I decided to walk to the public park that marks the spot of the original Fort Astoria. On my way, I noticed a shop called Ohana which made me wonder if the owner's heritage was part of the Kanaka laborers who migrated from Hawaii and were so foundational to the origins of the town and its industry. 

I knew what to expect from the park - it was a very modest structure with a mural depicting what you could imagine Fort Astoria looked like in 1811, complete with a dog playing. While I was taking some pictures and appreciating the environment, a woman and her dog came along and started playing fetch, so the dog unwittingly reenacted the mural in the background. On the backside of the sign has a map of the fort's plans. One of the things I wanted to make a note of was the placement of the Hawaiian's quarters, outside the fort. The memorial to Ranald MacDonald is there too, telling a 
bit of his strange story, both in English and in Japanese.

Always attracted to water, I then made my way down to the coastline of the great Columbia River. It was a drizzly, overcast day so the view wasn't that great, but the low clouds gave it a spooky look and, well, it was fitting considering the theme of my book being that this place is miserable, cold and wet. I discovered a little park dedicated to the Nordic heritage of many immigrants to the area, and browsed the displays, ensuring I found all 6 "hidden" trolls (they were not, in fact, very hidden at all). 

While walking around the town, I was absolutely endeared to the fact that the trash cans were all decorated to mimic various brands of canned fish and salmon, 
referencing the boom time industry when Astoria was the world's capital of salmon canning. I also noted some historical buildings which I had become familiar with the stories I had read, especially in the Haunted Astoria book which was disappointingly void of strong evidence of ghostly presences. 

Finally, the museums were open. I headed to the Heritage Museum first, paying the inexpensive admission price. By now, I had been wandering for over two hours, so spotting the bathroom, that was my first stop. That's probably an unnecessary detail, but I've written it and that's that. 
 

The first set of exhibits were most applicable to my book - the beginnings of the town as a fur trading post. While I had already learned quite a bit in my research and reading, the exhibits did a good job of making the historical knowledge visual and tangible. Pelts from various animals were on display with encouraging signs to touch them and choose your favorite. I was surprised at some of the textures, and found I like the ermine the best. 

The coat of arms for the Hudson's Bay Company was displayed, and I had to look up the Latin, which meant "a skin for a skin." I thought it was funny and maybe a little foreshadowing, given what happened at Fort Astoria / Fort George over the years in the name of the fur trade. 

I studied the list of crew and passengers aboard the Tonquin which was the first crew to land and settle in Fort Astoria. Captain Jonathan Thorn, I knew, was a terribly mean leader. I found it interesting that under the crew, two names were listed with the title simply of "boy," one of them was a James C. Thorne. I wondered if he was the captain's son, but could find no reference to James or any connection anywhere else. It was one of many dead ends I would pursue. With so little historical records of Astoria, many of these people are just a name on a list, their stories lost to all but imaginations. 

The leader of the overland expedition was Wilson Hunt, and seeing his portrait, it was obvious why the more outdoorsy types along for the trip were skeptical of his pathfinding - he was definitely a business man and not a journeyman. 

The presumed oldest headstone in the Pacific is in the museum, belonging to Donald McTavish who drowned in the treacherous river just months after arriving in Astoria to take over Fort George. I was curious why the headstone wasn't in the Pioneer Cemetery, but perhaps its just its claim to being the oldest that makes it a museum piece. 

There were a lot of familiar portraits and some great maps illustrating the insanity of Astor's quests. I also enjoyed the Indian artifacts there, as the items traded are often hard to imagine or absorb without visuals like these. 

In a bit of a jarring transition, the next set of exhibits were much more modern - talking about Clark Gable's theater debut in Astoria and the filming of the Goonies in the 1980's. 

Redeemingly, there were separate rooms focusing on various topics. The first of these which I entered was about the indigenous people and their way of life prior to the European colonization. I'd been thinking recently about how getting out in nature is a prescriptive cure for general sadness, and what is lost in our modern lives by being cooped up in sealed buildings instead of living as these people did, so it was timely to see models of what that looked like. 

Going upstairs, I was greeted by the hilarity of the sinful side of the town: prostitution, gambling, and bars. Apparently, Astoria was known to be the best red light district in the Pacific region! Good on them. I really enjoyed the recreation of the bar known as The Louvre. 

There was another room full of early photography and film artifacts and information, with more Goonies memorabilia. 

There was another room dedicated to the lumber industry which took root (pun intended) near the Columbia given its dense population and ease of floating logs down the river. This area also talked about berry-picking and butter churning, including an eye-catching model of a dog-powered butter churn. 

One of the final rooms I went into dealt with discrimination and racism, including artifacts from the local KKK and a map of where discrimination took place. It talked about the Chinese laborers who did a lot of the brunt work for the early canning efforts, the Hawaiian Kanakas who made up a large portion of the population in the fur trading days, and celebrated the first black-owned business in town. 

I looked at the many books on offer, skimming several of them, and also noting some archival publications. I purchased a book and a few postcards and headed out for lunch. 

The Fort George brewery, tempting me with beer and pizza, was not open for another few hours, so I popped into Blue Scorcher Bakery and Café and was not disappointed! They made loaves of sour dough bread there and had on the menu a grilled cheese made on sour dough, which sounded like the perfect thing, along with a chai tea, to warm up. It was so good, I went back later in the week. I noted, too, that there was an EV charging station across the street, which would be very convenient since it was a short walk from the house and I could grab a bite at either the bakery or the brewery. 

On my way to the Maritime Museum, I got a good little laugh at a couple punny store names - B Serious Music Store and Bach n Rock. While not punny, I also thought it was funny that the adjoining store advertised, "CDs, Tapes, Incense." That seems perfect. 

While I had a very narrow focus, and therefore didn't spend a ton of time on the modern parts of the museum, I did really enjoy the life-sized models and mannequins posing as fisherman, showing the nets and tools of how it might have looked back in the 1800s. My ticket came with an entrance onto the lightship Columbia which was closing soon, so after looking around for a short while, I headed outside to redeem my lightship tour. It was cool to be aboard a ship like that, as it always is, but I was feeling my motion sickness quickly, so I didn't linger longer than necessary. I went back to the museum and spent a little more time in some of the other exhibits I hadn't seen yet. After perusing the books and gift shop there, I was pretty exhausted, so I headed back to the house for some downtime. 

I went out to the Fort George Brewery for dinner, and as I was locking up, the greeter cat, Annie, came out to see me. I had brought my laptop hoping to do some work on my book while eating and drinking but the wait for the tables was pretty lengthy and the bar was open, so I instead sat at the bar and used my phone to do some archival searches. After dark, the model fort was list up with Christmas lights, so I took a few pictures on my way back to the house. 

 

Day 3: Wet Thanksgiving Hike to the Astoria Column - 12,767 steps

I had a Thanksgiving morning perfect for my style - leftover pizza (and I really treated myself by reheating it, too!) and watching the parade in bed. My sister and nephew were at the parade and were cheering on the NAU band whose membership included many of my niece's friends, so that was fun to exchange pictures and videos with my sisters and niece. After the parade, I showered and got ready for my day's adventure. 

When I stepped out, I noticed happily that the fishy smell of yesterday was noticeably absent. Whether that was because of the rain or due to the reduced commercial fishing activities, or a combination of both, I was appreciative. 

I had estimated that the Astoria Column was within walking distance when I planned my trip, and having seen a sign on one of the nearby intersections directing to it, I decided I'd try to find my way without my usual aide of GPS navigation. It was another drizzly, gloomy day, but I figured I was dressed for the weather and I had nothing better to do since most places were closed, so let's go! 

I was successful in finding my way with the helpful signage, but I had not anticipated how uphill the whole journey would be. What was worse, once I got on the road for the park, there was no sidewalk, so I had to carefully walk on the edge of the road and ensure I stayed out of the way of cars coming down the winding road in dark and rainy conditions. Definitely not ideal, and I would not recommend doing that. I considered multiple times turning around and getting my car, or calling an Uber to take me the rest of the way, or maybe at the top I'd make a friend who could take me at least down the hill back to the sidewalk. Tired and in a pretty glum mood, I caught something out of the corner of my eye.

It was a deer, and it was watching me from behind some shrubbery. I grabbed my phone and took a couple pictures before I realized I had three, no four, deer, watching me from various vantage points. After taking a few more pictures, I was definitely encouraged. This is why we walk in nature. Something like that could easily be missed while driving. And the close encounter was so cool. 

I happened to be listening to an audiobook about the healing effects of walking through the woods, so I tried to channel my thoughts towards breathing in the piney foresty scents, imagine the fresh air healing my asthma. I had inadvertently forgotten my little Belle bag that has my hair bands, chapstick, and most importantly, my inhaler, so I had to be conscious of my breathing. Thankfully, I had zero asthma-feeling issues through all this walking and hiking up and down the hilly town. 

The road takes a turn that reveals the Astoria Column in view up a steep grassy hill. While the road continues around the hill and up, it was clear that many people had taken the more direct unofficial path up the grassy hill. I opted to stick to the road, but it was a neat view to see the destination. Neat, or tormenting? We'll go with neat. 

Finally arriving at the top, I admired that the view would probably be pretty good on a clear day. There are winding stairs up to the top of the column, but considering both my exhaustion and the lack of a view, I opted out of that climb. I also noticed a trail, but again opted out of that. After capturing some pictures, I used the restroom and headed back down the hill, now very cold and wet through my pants. At least it's down hill, right? I mean, yes, but those quads definitely got a workout from the steep hill down. 

The Pioneer Cemetery was along the way, and while I had noticed it on my way up, I decided to stop on my way down and check it out. Unfortunately, there are not too many headstones anymore, and I didn't spend a ton of time there, wanting to get out of the rain. 

Back at the house, I debated taking another hot shower to warm up, but opted to have my ramen and sit under my bed covers. The chill was deep, though, and it took me longer than I expected to warm up. Nevertheless, I got a lot done on my book, incorporating the new things I had learned from a running checklist I had used to take notes. 


Looking closer at what my host left for me, I noticed there were several passes to the museums which I had already been to, as well as one for the Flavel House Museum. I was bummed I hadn't realized they were there before paying for admission, but it wasn't a lot of money and I figured I'm helping the local economy or whatever. 

The host also had left out, either intentionally for me or as a usual thing for his guests, books about Astoria. I was familiar with one of them, and had deemed it out of scope so I hadn't read it in depth. But since it was there, I spent some time perusing sections of it. The Haunted Astoria book I had already bought and read was there, so I didn't need to look at that one. But there were a couple others about Astoria and the greater region which I also skimmed through. It was surreal reading one book which detailed historic homes still standing today, and realizing one of the entries, while entered under a different name for some reason, was the address of the house in which I was sitting. 

There were also some sweet treats left for me by my host, so after finishing my work for the evening, I rewarded myself with a turkey-shaped chocolate - the best kind of Thanksgiving turkey if you ask me! 

Day 4: Bubbles! Flavel House and more - 11,257 steps

The Flavel House Museum was the last museum I intended to go to, and it was a short walk from the house. So, I figured I'd have an easy day - just the museum and charging my car, and other than that just finishing up my book. Sunshine poured through my curtains as I got ready, and it occurred to me that maybe I should go back to the Column (driving, not doing that hike again). 

On my way to the museum, something caught my eye. It wasn't a deer this time, but it took my brain much longer than it should have to process what I was seeing. At first I thought it was a light, no, two lights. But they were floating and revolving around each other? A sprite? Maybe there is some supernatural activity here afterall. No, it was a bubble. A big one, to be fair, but just a bubble. In fact, there were a dozen, fairly large in size, floating from some unseen origin. I watched as several more made their way over the buildings and tried to capture some sort of artistic view of them in front of the Flavel House, to limited success. Turns out, bubbles are hard to photograph, especially because they don't behave predictably. 

The museum was great! It started with a 13-minute video which I ended up watching a couple times because there was so much detail I wanted to note. The Flavel family history was a little bit beyond the focus of my research, so I had known only a little bit about it, but I was fascinated by the stories and visuals in the video. The house was perfectly splendific. It was old-timey and luxurious, exactly as you'd want to see for a millionaire retiring in the late 1800s. I thought it was interesting there were paintings of ships on the Columbia in the downstairs "public" areas where guests may have been entertained, but in the bedroom, there were more natural scenes void of ships. I especially enjoyed the instruments and the chaise lounges in the womens' bedrooms. The wallpaper in the dining room and some of the chandeliers could easily fit into my modern décor aesthetic. Near the end of my tour, I found the bathtub, which was near a window with trees outside - a bath with a view - I like their style! 

Checking the weather forecast, it looked like I had about an hour of clear skies before the gloom would return, so I got my car keys from the house and drove up the hill back to the Column. I was charged $5 for parking which also came with a free pass to all the museums I had already paid to visit. Do'h! 

Rubbing salt in the wounds, the view was absolutely AMAZING up there. I had missed all of this yesterday when I had worked so hard to climb that hill - this view would have definitely made it feel more worth it. Ah well, I was glad I got to see it anyways. I had read more about that trail I had noticed yesterday, so I thought I'd give it a go, but as I started down it, the mud was a bit thick for me, so I opted to turn back. With the gift shop open, I browsed it and found a few things to buy as gifts and a commemorative ornament for myself. 

I took my car to the EV charging station - which was now full. A quick search found there was another one a little bit further away, not as ideal, but I needed to get this sorted and didn't mind a "little" extra walking. I was able to plug in and, hilariously, the $10 credit I had preloaded and never used on my Blink account in 2011 was still there. All in all, it would take $10.99 to charge the car, so my card was charged for the extra $0.99. 

I debated trying a new place for lunch, but had enjoyed that sour dough grilled cheese so much, I decided to go back to the bakery for more of the same. This time, I also purchased a dessert and a loaf of asiago sour dough to take with me. None of which disappointed in the least. 

Tracking the slow charge of the car, I decided it would be a while, so headed back to the house on foot. The Arizona State rivalry game with Arizona was on shortly after, so I turned that on and continued edits on my book. Based on an estimate of how much charge was needed and the rate at which it was charging, I determined that half time would be a good opportunity to walk to get it and drive back. As I got near the shoreline, I noticed the Astoria Column was glowing. Since my pass was technically good still, I decided to drive back up to see it at night. The car was just barely fully charged when I arrived - I had nailed the timing! I drove up to the Column, took a few pictures, and realized I had nothing else I wanted to do there, given it was dark and there were no more views to see. As I headed back down the hill, my headlights caught the most chill buck with huge antlers just hanging out in a lawn. Back at the house, I finished watching the game and worked to get my book into review. 

Though ASU had started strong, they fell apart and UA won. I submitted my manuscript to be published. Mission accomplished, I rewarded myself with another chocolate turkey. Why can I not eat it without going for the head first?  

(Partial) Day 5: Leaving Oregon (Weird) - 7,034 steps

I didn't have anything else I needed or strongly wanted to do, so I let my morning be a little slow, eventually getting ready and packing up to leave. Driving out of Astoria, the song "I'll be Home for Christmas" was playing on the radio, and for some reason, a deep sense of nostalgia for the town came over me. Even though I had focused on only a portion of the history and hadn't fully explored the restaurants and shops a local might, I had come to learn the town's streets and history in a very tangible way, the stories almost feeling like memories to me now. 

On the edge of the downtown area, I was less familiar, having only seen it once as I was coming into town days earlier. I noticed cute houses just past the Co-op that somehow reminded me of the adorable boxy houses in Krakow, Poland. 

I reflected on my journey and what I would do different (that blog to follow). Getting an EV rental car was a result, I recalled, of choosing the "surprise car" option instead of selecting the type of car. The range anxiety I had built up upon realizing I had an EV was, in hindsight, an unnecessary stress to save a little money on the rental. Or, maybe, I thought, it was a small opportunity to solve a problem, and feel accomplished and learn something from it. And, it got me out of the house just a little bit more. I wouldn't have gone to the lit up Astoria Column at night had it not caught my eye on my way to get the charging car, and I wouldn't have seen that gloriously chill buck laying in a yard. I still don't think I would have chosen it without a plan for charging ahead of time, but sometimes making the best of less than ideal situations brings unexpected blessings. It was a bad idea to save a few bucks, but it brought me the joy of seeing a different kind of buck. 

Here's the link to my book!