Oregon is GORGEous!

(See previous post for our Wine Country experience! Was late in blogging about it. Oops)

Oregon is GORGEous. Thanks to this state, I am officially running out of adjectives.

On our way here, Pete and I had ranked the places we’d visited and put them in order based on the spots we liked most.  But, after our day in Oregon, I’ve had to totally rearrange my list. It pushed it’s way to the top for me, and for Pete it’s pretty far up there. Everything about this area is beautiful. The trees are so tall and there’s a plush deep green moss that grows over everything. The air is clean, the breeze is refreshing, and there’s a serenity here that I haven’t found anywhere else. The forests of the west coast put those in New England to shame. They’re denser, greener, and definitely more inviting. For a stop where we didn’t have much planned, we certainly experienced a lot. We did something today that will stand the test of time as a once in a lifetime experience. Even if we come back to do it again, our adventures today were so special because they were unexpected and unknown to us. This day could not have been more awe inspiring and thrilling. I think it’s been my favorite day on the trip so far…

It’s funny, we weren’t even going to stray outside of the city today. But, last night I called my godmother in Seattle to touch base and she insisted that we see something called the Columbia River Gorge. We’d done plenty of cites, she said, and this was not to be missed. She did warn me, though; it would be a serious challenge. Not for the faint of heart and definitely not for the unadventurous. I left it up to her expertise and took her suggestion, not knowing quite what to expect. My godparents are two of my very favorite people in the world, but they do like extreme outings. I wasn’t sure what I was dragging Pete into, but I knew it would be exciting and possible just a tad insane. I just didn’t realize that in one day, Oregon would completely would steal my heart and take my breath away. Literally.

Unreal! 

The next morning, we woke in front of a Wal Mart Market, picked up some cheap water shoes at Walgreens, and headed for the gorge. Hidden behind the town of Trout Dale, the Historic Oregon Trail route drives alongside the Columbia River and leads to a series of stunning waterfalls. Pete and I didn’t know that places like this existed. We’ve seen them in movies, but beholding them in person is a whole different story. Each waterfall was a mile or two apart, each more magnificent than the one before.  It was truly like something out of a movie. The water cascaded down from the forest canopy, thundering onto the rocks below and sending mist in every direction. We felt a steady wind coming from the falls and were glad to be wearing sweatshirts and water shoes. (For now.) We went to Latourell Falls, Bridal Veil Falls, Wah-keena Falls, and Multnomah Falls, but the one my godmother insisted upon most was Oneonta. She’s warned us that we would get wet, but that it was TOTALLY worth the trip, so we went along with her directions. We figured we’d give it a shot and see how we felt. Her instructions were pretty bizarre, asking us to climb, wade, and swim. Ha, we thought, no way we’re doing that. But, once we started shuffling our way through streams and greenery, we were hooked.

Me, while I as still warmish and happy 

Oneonta Gorge was the most spectacular and challenging place we have seen on this entire trip. The walls of the gorge went up higher than we could see, and at the bottom was a strong stream, lined with mossy rocks that seemed to be raining down the canyon. The water was beyond freezing, we could barely step in without squealing. But, we really wanted to see what was ahead. The scenery was too good to pass up! Why else would my godparents have sent us there? Sure, the weather was cool, and the gorge was breezy and damp, but it was all so beautiful! We had to go on. So, we went up to our ankles… then shins… then knees…

Pete, rockin' the short shorts 

The walls were very tall and green and drippy, the stream was cheery and bubbling, the trees swayed gently in the wind. This wasn’t so bad. The farther we walked though, the worse it became. The rocks beneath the stream became increasingly slick and the water became deeper and deeper. A huge pile of logs stood in our way, some of which were only floating and not sturdy at all! We found this out the hard way… 

Oof... 

This is way harder than it looks. 

We had to clamber over these obstacles, cutting and bruising ourselves in hopes of seeing the waterfall. As we proceeded, other tourists hastily passed us, heading in the opposite direction. “Go back, “ they said, “there’s no way to get to the falls unless you want to swim.” Swim? You’ve GOT to be kidding me. Penguins would have been at home in these waters, they were positively icy. It took a serious amount of tongue biting and cursing to get each of us up to our knees, and now we were supposed to swim? We were thankful for our water shoes and long sleeves, but we weren’t walruses, we didn’t exactly have much as far as insulation. We could hear the falls though, and the gorge was so incredibly breathtaking, we trudged onward. We’d come all this way, we weren’t going to let a little cold water scare us off. We figured we’d go as far as we could and then see how we felt. Maybe those other people were just weaklings? Maybe it wasn’t actually as bad as they claimed.

"Wait, I have to do WHAT?" 

Nope, it was worse. Not only were there ample amounts of slippery, moss covered fallen trees and rocks to climb over, but there was a dip in the pathway so deep, that we would certainly have to swim to cross it. Veteran gorge forgers Hank and Randy, advised that if we were going to cross, we should leave our shirts and sweatshirts behind so that we’d have something warm to put on for the way back. We reluctantly removed our only source of warmth and we left wishing we had blubber. Randy, who was just ahead of us and completely drenched, warned us that the water was chest-deep. Keep in mind that water that reaches up to the chest of an average adult is well over my head and this deep water was COLD. We’re not talking “Hey! Who used up all the hot water in the shower” cold, we mean freezing, polar bears, icicles, numbness, purple appendages, never feeling anything ever again- COLD. We have never been colder in our lives, even at the top of a ski mountain in winter, with frostbite. This water was so cold; it made me miss Rhode Island beaches in January. It made us long for prison in Siberia. There is no way this water was warmer than 35 degrees. The only things that lead us to believe it wasn’t less, was the lack of snowmen and frost. Randy and Hank were very encouraging. “You’ve come this far,” they said, “You’ll regret it if you chicken out.” They had a good point. We were already up to our knees, and we had a feeling that this was something we would regret not doing. We’d come all this way in a beat up wagon that Pete rebuilt with his own two hands. We had literally crossed the entire country in a death trap; we were daring and we could do this. So, I plunged in.

You know that cliché about cold water that goes, “it felt like a thousand little knives were stabbing into me”? Yeah, well these weren’t little knives, they were samurai swords and they were slicing me clean through.  I could not breathe, and yet I heard a thwarted gasping shriek that I could only assume was my own voice. In reality, my swim only lasted seconds, but it felt like a torturous eternity. I have never felt more alive or more dead. My limbs were moving, but I couldn’t feel them. It felt like an out of body experience as I watched myself fight the current to reach higher ground. I couldn’t feel anything, I couldn’t breathe, I thought my heart was going to stop. I could, however, hear Pete’s voice in the background cheering me on. What a guy! He hadn’t dove in yet, so he was still in good spirits.  When I reached the other side, I turned back to see Pete struggling the same downstream I’d just fought. He was carrying the GoPro camera between his teeth and I could barely hear his squeaks of pain as he swam forward. When he joined me in shallow waters, Randy and Hank gave us fist bumps and pats on the back—I think, of course, because I could not feel this, but the best reward we got was a view of the falls at last. It was spectacular.  The rumble was almost as strong as the winds coming from the water as it tumbled down. I could barely stand upright in front of it. We were still numb, of course, so the wind didn’t bother us much. We felt as though we’d joined some elite club of badasses; only the bravest and strongest get to see these falls up close. And now, we were two of them. We basked in that glory for awhile, forgetting that our lips were blue and we were possibly losing valuable body parts. Then, we remembered that we still had to go back. Oh boy

Hank, Randy and the GORGEous gorge

Nothing could have properly prepared us for this day, but our ten-dollar water shoes turned out to be our best investment of the entire trip. Randy’s advice about disrobing was quite valuable too, and we were happy to have something dry to put on for the trek back. The teeth chattering and severe body shakes made us quite the spectacle as we stumbled back to our car. Carla warmed us as quickly as she could with all the high heat she could muster and we basked in the brilliance of our accomplishment.  We have never been so grateful to get our trembling blue hands on a cup of steaming coffee. When we reached a shower, I cranked the water up to SCALDING.

Maybe it was no award-winning feat, maybe other have done it, we really don’t care. We conquered some intense fears today, not to mention some strong natural instincts. Humans were not designed for that kind of torture, but the adrenaline and adventure made it all worthwhile. I mean, how awesome are we? How many people can say that they’ve done what we have, and at our age? THIS is living. This kind of stuff is why we took this trip in the first place. Nobody really mentions how the unexpected wonders of your life will be the most memorable, the most important. This day is one we’re going to tell about forever, how we forged the gorge…  I am way past being ashamed of tooting our own horn, because WE ARE SO COOL.

Tomorrow, it’s off to Seattle to thank my awesome godparents for their suggestion.  I have been awaiting our visit with them ever since we bough our plane tickets home and I can’t WAIT. There will be no better way to finish off this vacation…

~ Triumphant Liz and Pete, and a concerned Carla 

We did it! 

<3 Oregon

We Took A Nap(a) in Sonoma

TYPED JUNE 1:

This place? We hated it.

There is something to be said for being awoken in your bed in the dead of night by a phone call, a thunderclap, or a bad dream. However, being woken in your car in an unfamiliar parking lot at 2 a.m. by an angry stranger is far more alarming. This is what happened to us moments before years were sheered off my life.  We parked in a plaza lot in Vallejo, CA because it housed the closest Planet Fitness to Napa. We curled up in the lot, figuring that the watchful security officer would let us know if there was a problem sooner, rather than later. Either he was asleep on the job or he just didn’t want us to be, because it took the guy until 2 in the morning to decided that we weren’t welcome there. He banged on the window and flashed a light into the car, waking me from a dead sleep and scaring me half to death. The man was both profane loud and made it crystal clear that we had to vacate the lot immediately. I had some choice phrases of my own, but instead woke Pete and we booked it to the closest Wal Mart. What bothers us most is not the fact that we were bombarded at 2 a.m., but that the security guard left the other car campers in the area alone. Other than their fancy RV’s, what makes them better than us? Carla was especially insulted and feels that the incident was one of discrimination and ageism.  Pete aged about 50 years and I hit my head on the ceiling, but otherwise the event left us unharmed.  

When the sun rose, we realized that Vallejo was a rougher area than we had realized in the darkness of the night prior. It was kind of filthy in general and much of it had fallen into disrepair or else been replaced by fast food chains. The streets were crawling with local teenage hoodlums, many of whom had infant hoodlums of their own.  Apparently, it is the general consensus there that parking lot gravel is an appropriate play place for a baby.  I was mortified. Ironically enough, the Planet Fitness there was one of the nicest we’ve encountered.  Aside from a woman in the bathroom passing me an invitation to her “Plenty of Pleasure” party, the PF in Vallejo was rather clean, comfortable, and inoffensive. (That invitation, however, was not.) This seems to be a trend, that worse the area, the nicer the PF. This suited us just fine because we were in desperate need of a shower. Maybe Vallejo wasn’t so bad after all?

Unfortunately, I walked headlong into a pole the next morning at Planet Fitness and bruised the left half of my face. I had been watching the news on the tv’s hanging from the ceiling while walking towards the front door. What genius decided to put an I-beam in the middle of a patron pathway? Rather than blame it on our gym, my sleep deprivation, or general clumsiness, we’ve decided simply that Vallejo sucks and we are never going back there. In a PG version of Pete’s words, the place “is a toilet.”

Rutherford Hill Winery picnic area

Wine Country totally made up for our Vallejo fiasco. It was absolutely stunning and everything we’d been hoping for. We were lucky enough to snag an opening for a tour at a local winery, and we headed over there mid-morning. Napa was gorgeous and so peaceful. The miles of vineyards and farmland made us wish that those properties were affordable rather than millions of dollars. Oh, what I would do for a house in Napa… Everything about Napa was a luscious, from the endless green crops to the blooming flowers and luxurious homes. Everything was new money fancy, but not snooty. We knew that most of these locals owned purses worth more than our college educations, but we put that aside for the sake of the beautiful scenery. We did see an awful lot of Lamborghinis drive by, but we were too enthralled to be bothered.  Napa was stunning and we couldn’t wait to take our first winery tour.

Rutherford Hill Winery sat overlooking the countryside and was the perfect spot for our tour. An enthusiastic little gentleman named Jimmy was our guide and taught us all about the wine making process, from the grape to the bottle. This particular winery had caves where the wine was stored in barrels. Touring those was like walking through a scene out of Phantom of the Opera. The caves had the high arching ceilings, romantic lighting, and old-fashioned chandeliers that would make any classic villain feel right at home. What made us feel welcome, of course, was the fabulous wine we were sampling.  This winery was known for its Merlot, which we happily slurped down along with a Sauvignon Blanc, Cabernet, and a stiff reserved label Port. We sampled six wines overall as we toured the caves, the fermentation chamber, the grounds, and the picnic area.  We were by far the youngest couple on the tour and nobody seemed surprised when Pete choked on a sip that went down the wrong pipe. Unfortunately, this happened while we were in the caves and so his sputtering gags echoed and bounced off the cavernous corridors, much to our embarrassment.  I thudded him on the back and pretended not to light-headed after only two samples.  I would say we’ve never felt so immature, but I would be lying. We spent much of the drive in wine country pretending to be rich locals with fancy British accents. Let’s just say we’re in no hurry to grow up entirely, so showing our youth is nothing new. We accepted the judging stares and sniggered privately at an overly pruned guy who pretended to be a wine expert. Jimmy seemed to appreciate our energy though, and was nothing short of thrilled to answer our questions, no matter how naïve. The tour excellent, the wine superb, the result a lasting buzz. We were happy.  We ended the morning with a tipsy stroll through downtown Napa. We worked off the wine and worked up an appetite, one we quenched with an overloaded pizza at a local parlor.

Admit it, you watched this show too. 

We decided we’d gotten our fill in Napa and went in search of our next Planet Fitness. In doing this, we had to head through Sonoma. We should have set aside more time for this little town, it was too charming. We stumbled upon it and we are thrilled that we did. Sonoma had beautiful vineyards too, all wrapped around a picturesque town square, chock-full of little one-of-a-kind shops. Everything was wine themed, of course, but not to a fault. There was the perfect balance between kitsch and class, though everything was far too expensive for purchase. We did, however, feel the need to drop by Envolve Winery, the pride and joy of a former Bachelor. (Yes, as in the show The Bachelor on ABC.) I’ve been addicted to that garbage for years and have forced Pete to watch more than a few episodes. He humored me and we did a wine tasting in the very office built by the handsome fella we’d seen on TV. I was giddy aa Pete inquired about he current marital status of Bachelor Ben.  Unlike the pair of us, the counter girl was not amused. As if the reason she had that job isn’t to bag Bachelor Ben. PULEEZE.

A little plaza in Sonoma

After another successful tasting, we decided to take a walk around downtown Sonoma. It was a peaceful little slice of paradise, with a park, groups of giggling children, and laughing friends enjoying their wine in sunny cafés. We took advantage of the rich greenery of the park and plopped down on the grass to rest our eyes. This turned into an hour-long nap, one we didn’t realize we needed. Nobody around seemed to mind. In fact, several other people were doing the same. It was ultimate relaxation, watching the town go about it’s happy business as the sun set. It wasn’t until a motorcyclist was backed over by an SUV that we were snapped back into reality. He was totally fine, but the crack of his helmet hitting the pavement gave us a good fright. The town sheriffs descended like vultures and we headed back to our car.  Wine and a show? Sonoma ain’t bad.

Carla is still alive. Just now, something large and metal fell out from underneath the hood while we were driving. Pete says it’s nothing to worry about. * Insert YOLO here * So far, we’ve driven 5,608. This is much farther than our original anticipation, since we didn’t calculate for miles driven around our destinations, just through them.  Aside from a few wee issues, Carla is doing OK. The passenger visor fell off, so any time I need a mirror, I have to commandeer the rearview. Pete doesn’t like this, but a girl needs a mirror. Carla understands. She keeps overheating, but only at completely unexpected moments where there is no good place to pull over and check her. There is a nice whistling sound from the crack in the windshield or the seal in the doors, we aren’t sure which. She’s vibrating again, but we like to think that she’s just saying hello. Pete hasn’t felt the need to change the oil because we’ve had to add so much to it. Honestly, she’s chugging right along and we couldn’t ask for more. She’s taken a beating today since we cleared the northern chunk of California and driven the length of Oregon. It’s magnificent by the way, we couldn’t believe how quickly the scenery changed from farmland to evergreens and back again. We saw a llama in one of the pastures! Mt. Shasta was amazing, we drove right underneath on our way to Portland.  It was a relaxing drive, but a long one. Our last long haul of the trip! We spent it admiring the scenery and listening to NPR.

Tonight, we just want some food and some sleep. We can worry about showering and posting this tomorrow. Honestly, blogging is the biggest issue we're having right now. Sleeping in the car, showing at a gym, living like gypsies in a vehicle that has so far outlived me? No problem. But, trying to find decent WiFi in unfamiliar places? Nearly impossible. I type the posts en route,but then I have to find a way to post them. We've been just about everywhere and tried everything, from parking outside closed businesses in the dead of night, to taking up a restaurant table for hours just to sit by an outlet. People must think we're insane. Oh, and uploading photos? A nightmare. Each place has a whole set of business policies, some of which won't allow me to upload certain photos. For example, this place we're in now, it won't let me upload any photos with our faces in it. Why? No idea. Apparently they find us offensive in appearance. (Give us a break, we're living out of a Toyota.) I wasn't expecting this to be the difficult part! Pete is being a great sport about driving around strange towns in search of internet. I feel like a nomad journalist... Must sleep. 

Almost there!

~Liz, Pete, and Carla the Wonder Wagon