Farewell to Oregon

I enjoyed my morning breakfast with Sherry, the owner, the next morning. I had a bowl full of fresh raspberries, stuffed french toast, sausage, and hashbrowns. It was so much food and all so good! She was asking about San Francisco and told me about the last time she was there in the heart of the 60s. I noticed the state plates that decorated the kitchen/dining area. My grandma was a collector of those same plates so I recognized a few. It was such a tiny coincidence but made me feel like I knew her. I really enjoyed our chat. She directed me to check out Pilot Butte on my way out of town. It was a huge hill with a road that spiraled to the top, offering a 360-degree view of the city and surrounding mountains.

View from Pilot Butte

Then came the low-point of my trip: Oregon gas stations. Dear Oregon, if you have weird laws that other states don’t, you should post them at the state line. I pulled up to the gas station and started going about my business of filling up. Two people came up offering to help and I politely declined. The third guy showed up and explained that it’s against the law for me to pump my own gas. I thought he must be joking. He wasn’t. It was awkward. I’d already entered my card and pushed the necessary buttons, so all that was left for him to do was put the hose in the tank. It was silly. What a weird and unhelpful way to provide jobs. They are self-service pumps my friends. It’s like having a bank teller at ATM’s. They were nice about it, but really, it should be posted. I no idea. In protest, I vowed to never buy gas in Oregon for the rest of the trip.

My moment of redemption came on the road as I was leaving town. I met another Mini on the road and gave a friendly wave. The woman looked at me confused but waved back anyway. I’ll take it!

Mountain Marker between Madras & Shaniko

As I headed north, I saw miles of nothing. Just grasslands as far as I could see. I’d always imagined Oregon as consisting entirely of coniferous forests, which I guess is descriptive of the west side I’ve never seen. If someone had blindfolded me and dropped me in this place, Oregon is the last place I would have guessed as my location. I randomly came upon a sign for a “Mountain Marker” and pulled over to check it out. I was in the middle of nowhere and yet, there was this place pointing to all the different mountains viewable from that point. It was a neat discovery. Mount Hood was the only one I could actually see.

Halfway to the Equator, outside Shaniko

Outside Shaniko, I finally encountered the 45th Parallel Marker, halfway point between the equator and the north pole. It was a major downer, which in retrospect, I should have photographed the full sad scene. Across the street from the sign was a broken down semi. Thirty feet beyond the sign was a deer carcass. Rigor mortis had set in. I debated not stopping, half out of respect for the dead animal and half out of fear of that a crazy truck driver would jump out and kidnap me. I took my chances but felt like I was taking pictures at a funeral, so I didn’t stay long.

It was smalltown after smalltown for the rest of Oregon. These towns were more ghost towns. The buildings were completely dilapidated but I saw signs in the window noting they were “open”. In between these towns were huge fields. The tractors working the ground were kicking up huge clouds of dust. They looked like mini tornadoes. I was curious what would grow somewhere that’s so dry. They keep all their straw bales under side-less sheds with no concerns of them getting wet, whereas in Indiana, we had to postpone bailing until the forecast called for enough days to let the bails dry in the sun before storing.

Miles of gold

Holiday, just outside Biggs Junction

Near the Washington border, I noticed a semi that might need to change lanes soon so I backed off a bit and sure enough, he flipped on his turn signal. As soon as he was able to get back in the right lane and let me pass, he flashed all his truck lights and gave me a big friendly wave. I wish I’d had one of those happy sounding horns to signal in return. I do my best to keep Holiday’s road reputation positive. Good motoring karma.

I stopped in Biggs Junction for gas and a Dr. Pepper (my drug of choice for the trip). Just as I was about to pull out of my parking spot, a lady got out of the truck that just pulled in next to me and tapped on my driver’s window. I rolled down my window, instantly fearing I’d done something wrong. All she wanted to say was, “I love your car!”. I’d forgotten that Mini’s were such a novelty outside of SF. We were becoming celebrities.

John Day Dam

I continued along the Columbia River and passed the John Day Dam. Over on the Washington side were rows of wind turbines lining the river. I stopped in Umatilla to check out a large cowboy sign listed as a roadside attraction. Not only was it underwhelming but full of awkward. Turns out it was part of a grocery store sign and as I pulled into the parking lot, 3 small unaccompanied children ran across the highway and through the lot. The little girl fell and started crying. All this happened as I was trying to find a place to park. I was so distracted by wondering where their parents were to really focus on the task at hand. I ended up parking right under the sign. Roadside America sort of let me down on this one.

Cowboy sign in Umatilla

Welcome to Washington

As I crossed the river into Washington, the scene changed again. It looked like green cornfields as far as I could see. I never associated corn with Washington. Maybe it was just a similar looking crop. Once I got further from the river, it changed to vineyards and finally back to the dry grasslands I’d seen in Oregon.

Marianna Stoltz House

“The Green Room”

My B&B in Spokane was coincidentally located on Indiana Ave. The Marianna Stoltz House was beautifully decorated in a Victorian theme and had a lovely wrap-around porch. The only other people staying in the house were leaving for South Africa at the crack of dawn the next morning. I think they were afraid of being robbed because they moved all of their several pieces of huge luggage out of the car and up the stairs to their room. They weren’t very social. The lady running the B&B in the owner’s absence (they were in SF, oddly enough) was very friendly. She basically tried setting me up with both of her sons while I stood in the yard taking pictures of the place.

Gonzaga University

It was so hot that I had to change into cooler clothes before venturing out to explore Spokane. Gonzaga University was only a few blocks away, so I walked there in search of food. It was Sunday and everything was closed. And in all my travels, I’d forgotten what day it was…the 10th anniversary of Sept 11. It seems it would have been a day impossible to overlook had I been anywhere but the open road. My meandering for food led me through campus and by some old industrial buildings that gained intrigue in the evening sun. A Jimmy John’s provided sustenance and a pink sky entertained my walk back to the B&B.

Beautiful evening sky

I had an amazing sleep because my bed was so comfortable. It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but I actually told the woman the next morning at breakfast that it felt like the bed was giving me a hug. I took off the sheets to discover the source of such comfort. It was a 5” foam topper. Heaven.

Morning in Spokane

Breakfast was a little awkward. I was the only guest and the lady overseeing the place decided to sit and talk to me while I ate. It started out pleasant enough but talk of God & politics made me feel a little upset. Luckily, I had an excuse to hit the road and leave the tension of the moment. She had at least advised me on an alternate route to Montana, so our conversations weren’t a complete wash.

800 W Garland Ave, Spokane

I did a quick stop at one of the two milk bottle buildings in Spokane before ending up lost in my attempt to find the Riverfront park. At last I found it. It was quite pretty with a bell tower, sculptures, and amusements (not open for me to partake). I bet it’s lovely to work downtown and have that as a lunchtime escape.

Riverfront Park

“The Childhood Express”

The main reason I stopped at the park was to check out The Childhood Express, a 12-foot, 26-ton Radio Flyer wagon/slide. I waited until I didn’t see anyone around and climbed to the top. My attempts to film myself failed, so I had to go for the first-person angle.

And with that public humiliation, I headed back for the car, but not before stopping for a bathroom break. The bathroom happened to be under an outdoor auditorium where a random group of men were jamming. I basically got a free concert while I peed. That was cool. And with that, I was finally on my way to Montana.

I savored the rare experience of congestion-free highways as I ventured out of San Francisco and through the east bay. It was just after 5AM and I had almost 600 miles to travel today. I tried burying all my anxieties about this trip by searching for first sight of the sunrise. The sun seemed to track my movements as I headed north on I-5, the light streaming through the rows of crops in the surrounding fields. It was a beautiful morning for a drive.

Sunrise along I-5

Glass Sundial Bridge

I stopped in Redding to visit the Glass Sundial bridge. It was much more magnificent than the small pedestrian bridge I expected. The stroll across it was an enjoyable break for my legs after driving for almost 4 hours. I explored the grounds just enough to see how the sundial components were laid out over a huge area.

Sundial Glass Bridge

Sundial Glass Bridge

The scenery took a drastic change as I continued north out of the flat plains of the valley toward the mountains. It was impossible to snap photos but the drive through Shasta Lake was gorgeous: pristine lakes and curving roads with Mount Shasta rising in the distance.

Entering Oregon

I veered off the interstate at Weed, CA. I had a little chuckle at the sign and continued on my way. Just before Oregon, I passed through a sleepy little town called Dorris. It had so many photo opps that I couldn’t let myself stop for fear I’d miss the rest of my stops. It felt a lot like the town of Marshall I used to drive through on the way to school every morning, complete with the highway making right-angle turns all through town. It was a glimpse back in time with the grain elevator and all the gas stations & motels looking untouched since the 1960’s. As I curved out of town, I saw the state line up ahead. It was poetic timing as a John Deere tractor & semi-trailer passed just as I snapped my photo of the welcome sign. It was such an Indiana moment. As a kid, I would have sighed in frustration if I ended up behind a tractor on the highway but now they’re a welcome reminder of home.

The landscape evolved yet again as I went further into Oregon. It was high desert country with miles of shrubs dotting the otherwise barren landscape framed by rolling hills in the distance. They were repaving the road so I got delayed almost an hour by road construction. It was such a nice day, though, that I just rolled down the windows and breathed in the desert air. I drew some stares from passersby when I parked just shy of the train tracks running parallel to the highway to snap some photos. If only there had been a train! I wanted a photo of Holiday in front of one. Next time.

High desert in Oregon

Train tracks along US-97N

As I neared Crater Lake, everything seemed more green and lush with cattle dotting the pastures. As I stopped to photograph, I couldn’t help but picture myself in front of a tiny little house situated in this scene. Even the barbed wire fence made me feel at home.

Crater Lake

Entering a national park is like entering a magical land. It’s as if they drew a line and put everything kind of amazing on one side and everything crazy amazing on the other. I knew I was within bounds of Crater Lake before I even saw the sign. My entry was marked by the sudden appearance of towering trees between which I caught glimpses of massive ravines. The anticipation was literally killing me. I’d been waiting to see Crater Lake since I first heard about it a few years ago. As soon as I pulled on to Rim Drive, the road which circles the lake, I pulled off at the first turnout, aptly named Discovery Point. I had to walk up a few feet before the water came into view. My first sight was of the image below. It took my breath away. Even though I was by myself, I blurted, “holy shit that’s amazing!” before nervously glancing around to see if I’d offended anyone. I hadn’t but I bonded with the lady nearby, who was equally awestruck. In that moment, I decided that this trip was amazing regardless of how the rest of it played out.

Discovery Point at Crater Lake

The water seemed too blue to be real. Pictures hardly did it justice. I wished I could have been there for sunrise/sunset, a desire I knew would continue for every location, but I had blue skies and nice weather so I couldn’t complain. Even better were all the nice people. Away from the stresses of life and work, nearly everyone said hello or smiled. As I pulled out of the Wizard Island outlook, a motorcyclist driving by gave Holiday the “good work” pistol-like hand gesture (I imagined he made the click sound with it). Holiday & I were both flattered by the shout-out so I gave a friendly return wave. Made my day.

I went down to Cleetwood Cove, which was the only spot from which you could access the water. It was a steep one-mile hike which literally zig-zagged down the side of a cliff. I was barely halfway down before I began dreading the trip back up. I came across an older man, maybe early 60s, trying to take a photo of himself on the trail. I offered to help but he politely declined saying, “nah, I’m just trying to give my friends proof that I’m alive.” I laughed because I was in the same situation.

I opted out of taking the boat ride and instead clamored down some rocks until I was sitting on a rock at the water’s edge. I took my shoes off and let my feet soak in the cool waters. It felt almost 80 degrees in the sun, so the water was refreshing. I felt something nibble at my feet and looked down to discover a crayfish living under the rock. The water was so clear that I could see pretty much everything. As soon as I broke out my snack, I was joined by a friendly chipmunk as well. He was just about to break into my bag when I turned around and caught him in the act. He had apparently been harassing the group of people nearby. I minded his presence less than they did. I absorbed the serenity of the lake, hoping it would make the hike back up that hill slightly less exhausting.

Crater Lake from Cleetwood Cove

On the return hike, I got behind two elderly couples. We all stopped for a breather at the same corner and one of the men joked, “Are we there yet?”. He read my mind. I was enjoying eavesdropping on their conversations. I assumed they were all traveling together but the couples were perfect strangers, just comparing travel stories and recommendations, inter-mixed with “complaints” about the choices of their children. I imagined my grandparents had had similar conversations on their travels.

As I continued along Rim Drive, I saw numerous towers of smoke out in the valley of forests. Signs were posted, “Natural fires. Do not report.” Many of the trees appeared inverted from the wind. All of their branches were stripped on the side facing the wind. It’s easy to overlook the harsh conditions such a breathtaking place experiences, as well as forget the incredible volcanic force that initially created it. I didn’t make it over to the spires where volcanic ash had left rock formations.

Crater Lake

As soon as I left the park, I found myself in the Pumice Desert. It contained miles of nothing. It looked more desert-like than Death Valley. It only lasted a few miles and the rest of the drive to Bend would be through corners of national forests, a welcome contrast.

Bend

Bend was a cute town. It smelled of wood chips, which wasn’t a bad thing just unexpected. I suppose there was a saw mill nearby. The main road had exits instead of intersections. It seemed like a good idea for locals, but it made it a little difficult for me to backtrack after I realized I missed a turn. I made it to my B&B with a little help from my iPhone. I didn’t know what to expect from The Country Inn the City. Despite having no online reviews, I couldn’t beat their price of $47.50. I was met at the gated drive by the owner and her 2 dogs. She was a friendly woman, just shy of 60, who had the personality of a retired elementary school teacher (it’s a good thing). We’d barely said hello before the conversation shifted to my car. It was love at first sight. As soon as I parked, she was asking all about it. I opened the door and invited her to have a seat. She’d always admired them from a distance, but this was her first time sitting in one. She was delighted and immediately started planning her life with a MINI. I love watching the childlike wonder that flashes over so many people’s eyes in the presence of my car.

She introduced me to the dogs dancing around and one of the women who lives in a separate apartment building behind the house. It’s a neat concept actually. She rents the rooms to single women who don’t want to live alone. They get the independence of having their own place without the loneliness. It felt like a big extended family and they have a huge backyard to share.

The Country Inn the City B&B, Bend, OR

I got a tour of the house. It was a large, historic home so it had little quirks that I appreciated. My room was upstairs and the bed was situated under a very sloped ceiling. I definitely hit my head on it during my stay. It was inevitable. The room was large & cozy, though. I felt like I was staying with some distant relatives I’d just found out existed but without the awkward expectation of staying in touch with them. Hah.

Room in the B&B

After settling in to my room, I took off for dinner downtown. I was surprised how easy it was to find free parking on a Saturday night. I put my name in at Deschutes Brewery and strolled around “Old Bend” to pass the time. It was really clean but kind of empty. I saw a theater and passed a bunch of closed shops.

Downtown Bend

I was so hungry by the time I got a table. It had been 600 miles & 15 hours since I’d had an official meal. I literally devoured the beer braised pork shoulder, tillamook cheddar mashed potatoes, and green beans. It was so good. Even though I’m not at all a beer person, I thought I should embrace the spirit of my adventure, so I got a glass of The Stoic. It was unlike anything I’d ever had, so I don’t know if I actually liked it as much as I was just intrigued by the flavors. It had hints of citrus, vanilla, pepper, and toasted caramel. It had 11% alcohol, so even with only drinking half, I was incredibly paranoid driving the few miles back to the B&B.

The Stoic at Deschutes Brewery

It was probably the most I had ever crammed into a single day. I was exhausted but excited that my trip was starting off on such a high note.

I fell asleep to the sound of train whistles, a sound that initially made me jump, the same way fog horns did my first night in my SF apartment. I’m sure it’s a sound everyone in Bend has learned to tune out, so it was funny to think how something as ordinary as a train whistle could sound so foreign to me.

And I have to end with the dream I had that night:

In the dream, I was in my room at the B&B. The owner came in and asked when I wanted to get up. I thought I was still sleeping when she came in so I was confused when I realized I was standing there in my PJs holding a razor shaving my legs. I walked out of the room and my parents were there. I said, “Wait, I’m feeling a little strange…it’s like I just woke up from a dream.” I drilled them about the events of yesterday. I knew I’d left on my drive and spent the day at Crater Lake. I tried to prove to them that whatever *this* was, it wasn’t reality. I said, “I really hope this is the dream. I know I was on a great trip and I had a perfect day yesterday. I know that was real.” They were all trying to convince me it wasn’t.

My parents were still together in the dream so it was pretty powerful for me to choose the reality that included my trip over the false one. It made me happy to know that my subconscious was so onboard with this adventure. Maybe I was on more of a spirit quest than I realized.