Wednesday was a day of volcanos.  As I left Portland I went to Mount Tabor, the only volcano to be within a city park (the volcanic activity was discovered only later), past Mount St Helens, which famously erupted in 1980 shedding much of its mass; and headed to Mount Rainier. 

Had I not learned that it was named by Vancouver for a fellow Brit, I could have believed that Rainier's name came from the typical weather conditions.  In fact there was, and still is, a movement to return its name to Mount Tacoma, the original Native name.

The 14,000-foot peak was utterly obscured by dense clouds and constant rain, and I was quite disappointed not to have seen it.  Even halfway up the peak I was still below the clouds and could not get a good view.  So instead I opted to hike.  In the snow.  Wearing trainers (sneakers).  See the video - I gave up and turned back once the feeling had left my feet.

My accommodation for the evening was care of the generosity of James, the cousin of my Atlanta friend Rebecca, who had put us in touch.  He's another fellow Englishman transplanted here for his brains; like the rest of us having convinced the US Embassy that no Americans were up to the task.   He and his wife Hannah live in a very trendy part of town, within walking distance of the main attractions, so it's been ideal.

James and I went out for some beers and a bite to eat in one of the cool districts, and were surrounded by trendies and punks.