Day 4 – To Hood River
N45º 42.650' W121º 33.271'
Saturday was a day of rest and relaxation. Well, it was for Dianne. Saturday was the day that I focussed on getting everything that didn’t get done before I left completed and out of my inbox. The good news is, I did. The better news is, I now consider myself to be truly on vacation. Three days and nearly a thousand kilometres from home, but genuinely and truly on vacation.
We hit the road early, in a desperate — but ultimately utterly pointless — attempt to avoid the chaos that is Hoopfest. Actually, the chaos arguably does get much, much worse trying to check out later, but it still took us a good hour from the time we tried to escape the hotel until we were actually loaded up and on our way.
Dianne and I have developed three fundamental principles for our road trips, which are namely:
- Not eating at any establishment that is a chain. This has subsequently been amended to also include not eating at any establishment in which the words ‘family restaurant’ appears in the name and/or signage. This has also been further amended to not include Starbuck’s when the acquisition of caffeinated product has become essential to our survival and/or sanity.
- We will go where the GPS takes us. This has been consequently amended to make damned sure that we know where the GPS is trying to take us before we finish programming it.
- We will have fun. To date, there have been no amendments in this regard, although at times is has felt more aspirational than real.
The second principle was the fundamental one for our trip today. Leaving it to the GPS’ devices, we were going to be on interstates all day. Nice if you’re in a hurry. Not much fun if you’re trying to stop and smell the roses. Mainly because there aren’t any roses on the interstate, nor much other scenery worthy of enjoying. We opted to take secondary roads for as far as we could in our trip from Spokane to Hood River. And we were enormously glad that we did. Our length of time on the interstate was exactly one exit. After that, we were into the country.
One of the things I absolutely applaud about driving in the United States is the condition of their roads. It might be the fact that the winters don’t actually go through freeze-thaw cycles to the extent that they do in Canada. Or it may be that Americans are heavily victimized by road works crews in those weeks and months that we haven’t been travelling before, but for a secondary highway on which we saw astonishingly little traffic, the roads we took were smooth and well maintained.
Alessandro near the Snake River in Washington.
Even better, the scenery we passed through was incredible. Eastern Washington state has an unbelievable range of geography. In the space of a couple of hours we went from treed hills to open rolling plains filled with crops to sparse brush to desert rock formations. Overall, it’s an absolutely beautiful part of the country, and one we plan on coming back to in order to spend some time.
Fionn near the Snake River, with Dianne.
Even better, the scenery we passed through was incredible. Eastern Washington state has an unbelievable range of geography. In the space of a couple of hours we went from treed hills to open rolling plains filled with crops to sparse brush to desert rock formations. Overall, it’s an absolutely beautiful part of the country, and one we plan on coming back to in order to spend some time.
The highlight of the trip was a stretch of highway from Dusty, Washington (yes, that’s its real name) to the junction with I-12. This is the best motorcycling road I have yet to be on. A smooth snake of tarmac that winds through hills, canyons and valleys, it represents something on the order of an hour’s absolute enjoyment. The operating phrase running through my head the entire time was “Wheeee!” It was a gradual progression of gentle curves and elevation changes that were fully engaging, but able to be enjoyed without constantly speeding up and slowing down. You just rode. Zen on a bike, or the closest thing to it.
Fortunately, our decision to take to secondary roads out of Spokane amply compensated for what we faced for the rest of the ride. Once we got past Walla Walla, we quickly found ourselves riding along the banks of the Columbia River. Which we initially mistook for a lake. This is one massive body of water. And, sadly, the pleasant road we had chosen meandering along the banks of said river actually turned out to be an interstate. Which did meander, as much as interstates can be said to do that. But it should be understood that meandering is suitably constrained on dual carriageways at 70mph (even if that is 15mph over the speed limit).
Counting chickens.And risking some hatching…
Of course, our headlong rush into a headwind was prefaced by lunch. Rolling into Walla Walla, we decided that food was definitely in order. Sadly, the first place we tried — the Backstage Bistro — was closed for a private party. It wasn’t signed for a private party, mind you, it was just closed. So first we crashed the party, then we discovered we weren’t welcome. Our second choice closed the kitchen 30 seconds (literally!) prior to us walking in. Not the most hospitable service we’ve encountered, but we were sort of getting used to it.
Deciphering the mysterious chicken sculpture…
On our third choice, however, we struck gold. A wee little French bistro, tucked into a storefront, that I would have completely missed if I hadn’t wound up parking my bike directly in front. And, to be clear, it was a French bistro in the way that the French do bistros. So both completely unexpected in eastern Washington state, and entirely welcome for having been discovered. For the size of the operation (all of ten tables) they have an incredible wine ‘list’ — in essence, a row of shelves of the wines available by the bottle, that you peruse and select from.
This is my wine. Get your own damned wine if you want some.
Lunch was a homemade quiche. Dianne had it with the green salad, and I opted for the warm mushroom salad. Also on special was a lovely rose wine called Lullaby, made by local winemaker Virginie Bourque. Dianne got to have a glass (I was riding) and reported it to be exquisite. Not unexpectedly, a bottle found its way out of the restaurant with us, and was a delightful way to start the evening once we got to Hood River.
Rock formations overlooking the Columbia River.
After clawing through the aforementioned headwinds to get to Hood River, we managed to make it to our hotel. Or, to be precise, condo. The hotel we were planning on staying at (next door) was ‘closed for the recession.’ But they recommended contacting the villas next door. Which we did, and booked a nice king-bed unit. Upon arrival, however, the resident manager engaged in a little horsetrading and we wound up upgrading to a penthouse suite. (Of course, the fact that we are total pushovers may in some way factor in to this). The result was a top-floor unit with kitchen, dining room for 10, balcony, living room, giant master bedroom and relatively substantial master bath. Not to mention the two other bedrooms that adjoin the unit, but can be segregated should you so desire. All with a commanding view of the Columbia River, being largely built on its banks.
Alessandro next to the Columbia Rier.
Despite strongly being tempted to stay put and call out for pizza, we dragged ourselves away and headed into town for dinner. Celilo was an extremely nice, cozy and intimate restaurant with some exceptionally good food. Dianne thoroughly enjoyed the Caesar salad (save the whole anchovies, of which she is not a fan) and had a pasta with spinach and mushrooms. I went for the scallops and the risotto with mushrooms and asparagus. Not to mention a wonderful bottle of Ken Wright Celilo Chardonnay (the similarity in names are completely coincidental).
Celilo Restaurant in Hood River, Oregon.
As a first real day of vacation, this pretty much rocked. Here’s looking forward to the next ones!
The view from the room…