August 8, 2023 to August 9, 2023
The Dalles
Tuesday
Today began as I wish more of them did, with Rachael and I sitting at the kitchen counter sipping coffee and helpfully looking in while Rachel chops vegetables for the omelet she is preparing us. When she and Patrick come to visit us someday in our future home we’ll be happy to break out the omelet pan and return the favor, but in the meantime we’re content to let them build up some credit.
We’re on the road not long past eight, on the not terribly long drive to The Dalles. We have a couple of possible bike rides in mind, including one right here. There would be worse ways to start the day than going back to the Greenbelt and exploring the miles we missed yesterday when we stopped to help Shelby. More enticing though is a ride down Reith Road, the back road between Pendleton and Umatilla that follows the Umatilla River - we rode it eight years ago on our way back from Walla Walla, and it’s a ride I’d love to repeat some day.
Not today though, because there’s a new development - Rachael’s knee, the one she scraped on that fall back by Lake Louise, is troubling her more this morning and she thinks she’s in need of a rare day off. So we just drive.
There’s little to say about the drive, except to take note of the disaster that didn’t happen. Somewhere west of Ontario, after it’s too late to do anything about it, I look at the gas gauge and wonder if there’s any risk of running out of fuel before we make Baker City. I don’t think so, but as we continue driving I start to worry. The gauge is working it’s way toward the red zone faster than I expected, which reflects the fact that we really haven’t had the Raven that long and I’m still learning its quirks.
Eventually I decide that it’s too close a call, and we either need to find a station on the way or turn back to Ontario while there’s still time. Rachael consults the phone and I’m relieved to hear that there’s a station just 13 miles away; so as long as it’s actually open we’ll be fine. And we are fine. Before we get to the station though, we hit the red zone and the dash warning alerts me that I’ve got about 50 miles left in the tank. So we’d probably have been fine in any case, since Baker City was only 45 miles away at the time.
Oh, and there’s one other thing to say about the drive. We stopped for a snack break in Pendleton, at the excellent Buckin Bean, a coffee & pastry shop with excellent eats and a lot of character that’s just the sort of place we were hoping to find in Baker City two days earlier. We’ll have to remember this place if we’re back through Pendleton some day.
Even with those two breaks it’s still only about two when we arrive in The Dalles after picking up an hour when we cross the time zone for the sixth time. Too early to check in to our room, so we head down to the waterfront for lunch as our main meal of the day, enjoying the view of the bridge and dam and being amazed at the number of pelicans gathered out in the middle of the river.
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We check in to our room at The Dalles Inn around four, and spend the next several hours in the room avoiding the oppressive heat. Toward sundown though I head down to the waterfront, thinking I might see some birds on the river along the Riverfront Trail. I don’t really, other than a few gulls too far off to distinguish; but as compensation I find the Bargeway Pub, and a pleasant spot to sit on the deck and enjoy the views over an IPA.
Wednesday
Rachael’s knee is no better today, so a ride or walk on the way home is out. We can’t check into our Airbnb for the next month until noon and we have to be out of our hotel by 11, so we pick 10:30 as a departure time and I go out for a walk along the Riverfront Trail. My knees feel better after the walk than when I started, reminding me that I really do need to start working walks into the routine more frequently. And it’s a very enjoyable walk that surprisingly reels in a new bird for the list, although best was the flock of vultures on the beach that let me approach surprisingly close to them.
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So we’re back in town again, for 31 days this time - the minimum stay that allows us to avoid the exorbitant short term lodging tax. Sad to say, we find that we don’t care for this spot too much and we’re not that enthusiastic about being back in town either. We’re glad of the chance to catch up with friends and family but there’s no doubt we’ll be ready to leave for Spain when the time comes.
In the meantime, I’m not sure how much activity we’ll report on here. The lights aren’t going out on this journal yet but they’re definitely dimming. Certainly they’ll flicker enough to illuminate any new birds that walk across the stage, but don’t be surprised if it’s pretty quiet here for the next four weeks. See you whenever.
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1 year ago
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1 year ago
About 40 years ago, the outdoor columnist / humor writer Patrick McManus published collections of his columns in book form ("A Fine and Pleasant Misery", "They Shoot Canoes, Don't They?" and possibly others). One column had to do with running out of gas, and asserted that the only thing more exciting and riveting than actually doing so is being acutely aware that your supply is low and *almost* running out. Nothing catches and holds your attention in quite so riveting a way as a gas gauge that hovers near and moves inexorably toward that ominous "E" marker.
The advent of the Low Fuel Warning light, and its associated estimate of remaining range, has really eroded the effect and drama.
1 year ago
One of my favorite stops last year, because of the delightful couple I spent over an hour chatting with (Tiffany and Ray, https://www.cycleblaze.com/journals/rejuvenation/0708-halfway/), was the Coffee Corral Roasters in Baker City. You could do far worse than enjoy a cup of their dark roast and a chocolate chocolate chip muffin.
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Thanks for sharing your Canadian trip. The photos and scenery were just spectacular. Such a beautiful area.
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