We pass a string of homeless men on Burnside as we trek to Voodoo doughnuts. I’ve never seen quite so many destitute people in one city, but as Hattie reminds me, I’ve never been to San Francisco. We eat the best doughnuts, filled with Bavarian cream and coated in chocolate. There’s a definite smell ofContinue reading “Day Sixteen: Towards Mt. Hood”
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To The Table 