Oregon Escapes

Attended my first Rose Parade and it didn’t disappoint. It was a little later than expected…the parade purportedly started at 10, but the first float didn’t roll downtown until 11:15 or so. While we waited, we watched little kids go ape in the streets, running around chasing rubber balls, blowing horns, drawing chalk squares on the pavement for horse-poop bingo (if the horse poops in your square, you win.) There were many horses, so a lot of winners at that game…

Even though Portland is technically a city, there are small-town qualities about it and the Rose Parade captures some of them. Many of the marching bands were high school bands, and of course lacked the polish of a professional group. About a third of the cheerleaders looked really bored, and when they’d throw up their batons a good proportion would not catch them.

Then there were these people who I think called themselves the mummers…not sure what they did but they had some seriously cool costumes made out of what looked like psychedelic tin foil.

And then: what parade is not enhanced by llamas?

We were graced with a perfectly clear Saturday. It was cold, but the sun was shining all day. We made the most of the weather by hiking out to Warrior Rock on Sauvie Island. We started the day with breakfast at our favorite, Broder, and drove on to Sauvie Island. The drive is 30-45 minutes, depending on how far in you are going. Parking permits for the day can be purchased at the Sauvie Island Market just after the bridge on the left. You can also pick up fishing tackle there, or various fried items in a smeary, greasy case, such as chicken gizzards and egg rolls. These (the fried items) seemed to be the most popular item in the store.

Our book gave us two main hikes to do on the island; one is a shorter loop (3 mi) about two miles from the bridge, and the other is 6-7 miles round trip out to Warrior Rock. The Warrior rock parking area is about 10 miles in from the bridge, so it will extend driving time somewhat.

But what a hike. We were able to walk the first mile or so of the hike on the beach along the Columbia River. We saw many happy dogs bounding along the sand and splashing into the water after sticks, looking as though they’ve been cooped up for weeks. We saw a bald eagle fly low overhead along the river, and there were a few fishing boats out. The beach is fantastic, and the long parking areas we drove past on the way in indicate that this place is probably packed on summer weekend.

After the beach ended, we hiked up through some berry bushes to the trail, which runs through cottonwoods, berries, wild roses. Most of the leaves were on the ground, it being winter, but some of the barks were vibrant red and green ferns bloomed as if it were spring. Winter highlights all the shades of moss clinging to the trees and falling, in clumps to the ground. A red-headed woodpecker made an appearance, hopping through the fields.

On one side of the path is always the Columbia, and on the other are low-lying, flooded fields, sometimes full of geese. It’s duck-hunting season, and the distant pop and crack of guns was a constant reminder of such!

The hike is perfectly flat, so we still felt plenty energetic when we reached Warrior Rock. There’s a nice little peninsula with a small lighthouse, and the remains of some old mansion.

It was a great place for a picnic lunch; it was so warm and comfortable there we even stayed and read our books for a while. It was warming up so fast that the clumps of ice in the trees from last night’s frost were falling, in pieces, through the branches to the ground. It sounded like a rain storm, in full sun.

The view from Warrior Rock, where the Columbia heads out to meet the Willamette:

There are some huge ships going through the channel, which doesn’t seem big enough!

Autumn is in its full glory here in Portland, and one of the great places to enjoy it is Forest Park, the largest park in the vast, connected city park system. Mr. T and I recently enjoyed a walk here after a Swedish breakfast at Broder, which made for an exceptional Saturday morning.

The Bigleaf maples are dropping their leaves and making the paths look very picturesque.

We began by parking at Lower Macleay park in Northwest Portland, partially just because the neighborhood is so nice and there are old, stately Portland houses under mature, colorful street trees. And bubbler fountains. We hiked up along the creek, and then started on the Wildwood trail, which goes on pretty much as long as you like to hike.

The parrot perched on a low tree branch gave us pause.

Other wildlife spotted: many beautiful toadstools pushing their way up through the soil, and some unusually cute, non-obsese red squirrels that look like they maintain an old-fashioned diet of acorns and not Big Mac wrappers.

The other morning when Mr. T and I were having coffee, eggs and French toast at Bijou cafe in downtown southwest, we drove past this. I’m not sure what the Octopus has to do with the Mediterranean restaurant below, but I like it.

This is a chick who knows how to have fun.

We have a certain four-legged friend who we got to spend some time with this summer. This friend, who I’ll call Goldie, had his own set of friends who he liked to carry around gently in his mouth, or wrestle with on the floor while growling with pleasure. Here is my favorite of Goldie’s friends:

When chewed, this fellow would make a happy squeaking sound.

No Portland weekend would be complete without a trip to the farmer’s market. The place is a feast for the senses. Visually, of course, it is stunning. The flowers alone are amazing right now:

Dahlias seem to grow particularly well here, and they come in the most beautiful colors:

You’ll have to forgive the blurriness; my phone-camera is not particularly forgiving as far as hand movement goes. Try to appreciate the images in an impressionistic fashion, or imagine you are jogging by! Whee!

There is the produce, of course. The berries are almost gone, but they are being replaced by the most delicious apples I have ever had. We frequent the vegetable stands, also, to feed the most recent addition to our lives, the crockpot, or as I like to call it the crackpot. Behold the celery and onions, so critical to any crackpot recipe:

Still, the best part of the market is the ready-made food. Mr. T favors the biscuits and gravy, where you can taste the sour cream used to thicken the sausagey sauce. I have equally liked the fresh tamales, grilled chickpea sandwich, and the sausage sandwiches.

Sometimes you’ll catch this guy, who grills hot peppers in a kind of kettle. It is fun to watch, though if you stand around too long, your eyes will burn with airborn chilipepper. The vendors nearby do not enjoy it; I’ve bought beets from this guy’s neighbor and they hand me my change with tears in their eyes.

Again, best viewed while imagining you are in motion!

As only a recent Portlander, I’m still surprised at how little attention the river running through the city seems to get. On a recent August afternoon, Mr. T and I finally got on the river on a kayak from Portland Kayak Rentals, which is right on Macadam in John’s Landing. We rented a double kayak, which was $20/hour, pretty reasonable. The kayak was fiberglass and in great condition. The only inconvenience was having to walk the kayak down to the Willamette River Park boat ramp (the rollers make it doable), which took about 10 minutes. But once we put in, the river was glassy and it felt like we had almost the whole thing to ourselves. We started out cutting over to the houseboats by Oaks Park, and then making the 4-mile or so loop around Ross Island. Ross Island has some cool birds; we saw some kind of large bird nest (see pictures) as well as other shore birds. It was a great way to see the city. There were considerably more motorboats out around 5pm; the weekends are probably more congested as well, but there’s still plenty of room for all.

Sure, the state capitol is in Salem, but that’s not where I found myself on this sunny Wednesday morning. No indeedy, I found myself seated inside the cheery interior of the Salem Original Pancake House!

When I said to the friends we were meeting “Oh, that’s Mr. T’s favorite place!” they thought I was being sarcastic. Now, I can see how the OPH can lend itself to sarcasm, even to scorn: waitresses in maroon frilled aprons, their “Olde Towne Shoppe” aesthetic, etc. But people should make no mistake: OPH churns out some good stuff.

The apple pancake?

SNAP!

Coffee, an endless cup of it, with cream?

SHAZAM!

Tragic hipsters need not apply, happy hotcaking to everyone else.