The Most Spectacular Drive

Portland, OR
July 13, 2021

After a beautiful Mass Sunday morning at St Patrick’s, a lovely couple hours with Ashley and Alice, and some lunch at the Walla Walla Bread Company, we swung by Brook & Bull, grabbed a few bottles of wine, and headed into the great expanse of northeast Oregon.

Over a couple hours under triple digit heat, rolling wheat fields transitioned to hard-scrapple scrub-brush on the high plains of the Columbia Plateau. Then, to our right and over the railroad tracks, we met the great river, and followed it west.

The Columbia is the grand waterway of the Pacific Northwest. It drains most of Idaho, eastern Washington, and northeast Oregon, and is one of only four aquatic passages thru the Cascade range. 

The river is majestic, and captivating. It is more than a mile wide along much of this stretch, and extends to fourteen miles at its mouth. And it conspired with the last ice age to carve a gorge that offers what might be the most spectacular drive in the United States. 

The canyon extends from the Deschutes River on the east to the outskirts of Portland on the west, ranges up to 4,000 feet above sea level, and transitions from dry grassland to temperate rainforest in only about eighty miles. The Cascades shield marine moisture from the desiccation of east Oregon, and demarcate the distinct climatic zones on either end of the gorge. 

When Lewis and Clark came down the Columbia, it was the first time since St. Louis that they had the current at their back. The physical relief must’ve been enhanced by the psychological lift when they saw the snow-capped cone of Mt Hood.

Other explorers had recorded Mt Hood on excursions up the Columbia from the ocean. Lewis and Clark were aware of it. They’d left the known world when they pushed west from the Mandan Village in the spring of 1805.  Toward the end of that year, they saw Mt Hood, and knew they were back on the map. 

Interstate 84 hugs the southern bank of the Columbia, carrying us past a series of dams and locks that manage drainage, provide power, and enable navigation. By the time we saw Mt Hood, we were approaching The Dalles, where we’d stay Sunday night. We were on our way to Portland, which Rita and I last visited three years ago, but where our sons had never been.

I’ve always loved Portland, but was apprehensive about going back. Stories of rampant riots and homelessness were rife, so I braced myself for what had become of this once-wonderful city. Our arrival, over the Morrison Bridge, seemed to affirm my fears. 

We turned up Second Street, and ran a gauntlet of street bums and sidewalk tents that accompanied us to Burnside. We then turned west, thru a seedy area that seemed to have taken a turn for the worst. A few blocks away, the line still formed outside VooDoo Donuts and the dilapidation subsided. Before long, we’d entered the upscale Pearl District.

We parked there, and took to our heels, which alleviated our concerns. While there was an “edgy” aspect to some of the areas we walked, most were bustling and inviting. Tables flowed from cafés onto tree-covered sidewalks, and most were full. To our relief, the city is very much alive.

Pedestrians were abundant, and a crowd filled Pioneer Plaza to hear a terrific duo regale them with rock and blues tunes. We grabbed lunch from one of the series of eclectic food carts on 5th, and joined them. The food and the music were outstanding.

The weather was wonderful, with clear skies, warm temperatures, and a light breeze. We resumed our walk, and returned to the Pearl District. 

We passed Powell’s Books a few times. I’d been to this square block literary Elysium on each of my prior visits, so spared my family by resisting the temptation to enter…and the risk that we’d be there the rest of the day.

We instead spent our time walking a city that has retained its charm despite enduring some blows. We fortified ourselves with delectable smoothies at Kure on 13th and iced tea at Caffe Umbria on 12th. From there we went to Washington Park, and filled a final hour among one of the world’s great rose collections.

The Portland International Rose Test Garden is the largest such collection in the US, featuring 10,000 roses and incredible views across downtown Portland toward Mt Hood. It was a peaceful, exquisite, and appropriate way to end an afternoon in the “City of Roses”. 

From there we drove south, to Tualatin, where my cousin Conor had invited us to join his father and stepmother for dinner. I’d not seen his father, Jeff, in at least a quarter century, and had never met his wife, Sybil. Within half an hour of arriving, it was as if we’d known them all our lives. They’re delightful.

Jeff was once married to my Aunt Isabel, and I had visited them in Portland when I lived in Sacramento, over thirty years ago. They lived in Tualatin then, and he has remained there since. 

He and Sybil have a beautiful home, and one of the finest yards we’ve ever seen. Local flora, vegetable gardens, elegant stonework, and running water lent an air of serenity to a wonderful outdoor meal. Jeff and Sybil are regularly in Walla Walla, and have added Brook & Bull to their itinerary when they return in October.

The pleasant company kept us longer than we’d intended, but we finally had to excuse ourselves for the 90 minute drive back to The Dalles. Regrettably, darkness had descended, obscuring from view the magnificent scenery of the surrounding gorge. But it can’t hide forever. Beauty like that is hard to miss.

JD