In addition to the usual "R & R", there will be the necessary business of wrapping outside water pipes, and hunkering down to seal vent openings in the foundation. It is to be a bitter-sweet trek, inasmuch as it will be the last time until the spring thaw that we'll be able to use this route to reach our home away from home; "Taj Ma Hollow."
Mile 0 Boring. Taking leave of what serves as "headquarters" for three plus weeks of every four, thoughts abide about what lies ahead. Some things will be constant and familiar, and some will not. That's part of the adventure of going to a place you've been to many times before. The time-honored plan is to drive down the hill, and onto state highway 212 until it feeds into U.S. Highway 26, which will carry us over the summit and beneath the tallest mountain peak in the state. As we drive through the two-block main drag of our town, everything looks virtually the same as it has for decades. The only new businesses are a pair of auto-repair shops. Things are slow to change here, and that's mostly comforting.
Mile 8.4 Sandy. The city of Sandy bills itself as the "Gateway to Mt. Hood". We,
who live just a marble-roll down the highway, will concede the point. Still, it would be pleasant to think of Boring, billed as Mt. Hood's gateway. Several years ago, Sandy had the grandiose marketing idea of cosmetically fashioning its business district into a Bavarian-style village, ala Leavenworth, Washington. As we drive through on the one-way east-bound side of town, we note that one strip mall and one (1) separate commercial enterprise have bought into the idea. Nice try, guys. Boring, on the other hand, makes no pretense when it comes to image. We can't even agree to incorporate, and become a village! However, we retain the claim to being the unofficial, undisputed pole-building capital of Clackamas County!Mile 24.2 Welches, the Zig Zag Inn. This has become our dining hang-out on the mountain. Locals always refer to almost any location between Sandy and the highway 26 summit as being, "on the mountain". We like to be considered locals. The 70 year-old establishment has
an open-beam, log cabin motif, combined with just the right touch of whimsy; as the loft will attest. That area, which once provided lodging for travelers and skiers, has been given over to memorabilia such as old-timey snow skis, crossed walking crutches, a period rattan-backed wheel chair, and a "time-honored" guitar. Not to be missed are the chandeliers above the dining booths; bedecked with racks of deer antlers.
Mile 25.8 Rhododendron, Mt. Hood Roasters. To combat the effects of sleep-inducing tryptophan after a filling meal, and another hour on the road looming ahead, a stop at a favorite coffee depot is mandatory. It's not surprising that this merchant has carved out quite a healthy niche on Highway 26. Not only do they roast, they also market effectively, and reach out to local non-profits with several money-raising projects. It's the perfect time to score a 12-ounce, double-shot capuchino, to wash down one of their irresistible oatmeal-chocolate chip cookies. Starbucks this is obviously not. But which would you prefer, good-tasting, locally-made product, or slick marketing?
Mile 36.3 Government Camp. Laws of nature are taking hold, and when nature calls, it's far-far better for septuagenarians to heed it sooner, rather than later. Only eleven miles distant from the Roastery we take that necessary pause in our travels, knowing full well that the only relief we would find for the next forty miles would be in the off-road puckerbrush of central Oregon. This village, at the crest of Highway 26, is the envy of more than a few denizens of our home town. They had the foresight to incorporate, thereby protecting their turf from future urban sprawl. (Boring, on the other hand, treated the same opportunity like an aggregation of angry feral cats.) In winter this spot is swarming with snowboarders, bunnies, and skiers. It is also the prime location for local television stations to relay to viewers just how bad the driving conditions are, seasoned with shots of kids inner-tubing on the nearby slopes.
Mile 38.5 Hood River turn-off to State Highway 48. This is where the road opens up and the vehicle traffic thins. One, and only one, gas station now lies between us and our high desert haven. We avoid that station like the plague, inasmuch as they want some blood-letting tacked onto their price per gallon of gas. Experienced road warriors, fuel-up either before or after the trip over the mountain. Never during. Some road improvements are noted along the way, among them- a newly-finished overpass; spanning White River, or what will be White River; once that "other season" arrives. Right now, it' a dry river bed. The tree species long this portion of the route are still of the fir and spruce variety. Mt. Hood looms just above, shrouded. Given the rainfall in the lowlands of late, it probably has received its first coat of snow.
Mile 43.1 From highway 48 to Forest Service road 34. The State of Nevada calls their stretch of asphalt between the cities of Ely and Fallon as "The Loneliest Highway in America, and deservedly so. However, #34 runs a close second. Given the time of day, it will be very much of a surprise if we see one other car between here and Wamic. As it turns out, we don't. Five miles in, the canopy of trees gives way to some big sky. Oak and pine trees start to ease into, then take over the terrain, along with rocky outcroppings that flank one side of the road. Some of the yield has been "harvested" from time to time for landscaping back home. We pass over the first of eight cattle guards. These are gratings of iron bars, installed flush with the road surface to discourage open- range livestock from wandering too far afield. Apparently, they do the deed. But just as effective, we've discovered, are white parallel stripes; painted on the road! Skies overhead predictably begin to clear. The mountain often serves as a natural barrier to rain-laden clouds. Leeward central Oregon receives about half the precipitation of the windward side.
Mile 72.4 Wamic.
There is definitely some history to this "town", which is constituted by an auto-repair shop and a general store, which laughingly refers to itself as a mall. True enough, if what one is looking for can't be found there, it can probably be done without. For those in a need to know what's happening, this is Intelligence Central. Some years ago, in a cost-cutting measure, the postal service took away it's zip code identity and quaint, old office , but there are still many remnants of what once was, elsewhere. Take the Barlow Road, for example. Built in 1846 by Sam Barlow and a business partner, this road represents the final segment of the original Oregon Trail. which extends from Jefferson, Missouri to the Willamette Valley in the western part of our state. Wagon wheel tracks can still be found where the land remains undisturbed; both here and in eastern Oregon, behind the city of Pendleton. Barlow Trail Days are THE event in Wamic each year. The parade and out-house races are the stellar attractions. But not to be missed are the artisans, dressed in period clothing and doing the things tradespeople did in those days, including blacksmithing and loom-weaving.
Mile 76.8 Refuge reached. One hour later it's wine, crackers, cheese, and who cares!!! This place has always been endowed with restorative powers. Freedom from many of life's daily vicissitudes, but certainly not all. "Tomorrow", as has oft been said, "has enough worries to take care of itself." Pipes and vents will wait another day. Let the good times roll! Maynard's cows in his pasture across the road moo an "amen".
