The Lost Files Ch. 1: In Search of Hot Springs

10/24/08

The plan today was pretty simple. Head to Estacada for a round of disc golf at Milo McIver State Park, then proceed southeast to Bagby Hot Springs for a soak.

I generally don’t enjoy paying for disc golf, but this park had good reviews and when I got there, I found that there was an machine taking the money, so I dumped a couple of rolls of nickles in and was on my way. It was an impressive course. Lot’s of big trees and elevation changes.

Having finished the 18 holes in impressive fashion, I felt very deserving of a visit to the hot springs. Bagby is a natural hot spring that is sourced from mineral rich water reaching up to 136 degrees at the sorce. It is located well into Mt. Hood National Forest, so I mapped out the directions and headed out.

The directions seemed simple enough and yet somewhere along the way, I must have missed a turn because before I knew it, I was in Detroit. Oregon that is…

After a quick fill up and remapping of directions, I headed back into the woods to give it another shot. What I didn’t realize was how close to sunset it was. Within no time, I found myself driving on dark, unlit, pot holed heavy dirt roads so narrow that the brush was scraping at both sides of  the VW. Most of what I saw before I gave up for the night and turned back to detroit looked like this:

Maybe I should have asked for directions...

Tired, dejected, and starting to smell a little, I headed back to Detroit, still trying to figure out if I would make another attempt tomorrow.

Anybody still listening?

Oct. 1, 2009

Well, by the time this gets read, it will be a year since I set off on the odyssey, and I feel I owe whoever may still be reading this an apology.  While I am not without a short list of excuses why I did not finish the blog earlier, the fact remains that a year later, I am apparently still in Portland.

As much as I may have been tempted, I did not set up camp in Oregon, but rather traveled onward, and would eventually make it back home to Ferndale. Whether it is for myself or my readers, I feel like this being the anniversary, some closure is owed, as this trip was an important chapter in my life.

The tone from here on out will be unavoidably, different. I simply can’t remember everything with as much detail as has been given thus far, however, I will attempt to relay the experiences with as much acuracy as much as possible.

The good news is that I had the foresight to write a few blogs ahead, so I have six days written from last fall while still on the road! From there, I’m afraid the days will tend to become condensed and greatly summarized, but hopefully the story will be complete before long.

That’s all for tonight. As this is still the eve of departure for me, I plan to post the first of the “lost files” tomorrow (Oct. 2) with pictures intact!

-Rob

Oh, The Things You Can Do With Bacon.

10/23/08

After getting myself together this morning. I camped out a local coffee shop for a few hours before heading to one of the pubs I was referred to yesterday.

The Horse Brass Pub was first on the list. Walking into this pub, I felt like I should have had to go through U.K. customs first. The room smelled of fish and chips, and was built of old wooden beams, plastered walls, and a dark, lacquered wooden floor. The walls were adorned with brass emblems, vintage, painted, wooden barrel tops, old Guinness ads, and WWII era pictures and flags.

The pub also sported several brush dart boards and had schedules for upcoming Premier League Games posted on the wall. The music playing seemed to be heavily showcase hits from the 40’s and 50’s with such selections as Blueberry Hill and Purple People Eater.

In the corner sat an elderly lady knitting what appeared to be a scarf, sipping on a coffee, and smoking a cigarette. Her features were very pronounced, her actions deliberate, and I couldn’t help but be reminded of Madame Defarge from A Tale of Two Cities.

While this establishment doesn’t actually brew it’s own beer, it is easily forgiven, as it offers over 50 taps – most of which are Oregon Brews. Two thumbs up!

Next stop, Belmont Station. This place is reason enough to move to Portland. They have about a 15 taps nearly all of which I had never had. Interestingly enough over half of the menu consisted of “fresh hopped” ales. Being new to the term, I asked the batrtender and was informed that it means the hops were taken from the vine to the kettle on the same day. Generally, this infers that the hops are grown within 100 miles of the brewery.

In addition to the good beer, I noticed in a remote corner of the menu that they offered chocolate covered bacon. After another quick chat with the bartender, I learned that he made it himself at home. Obviously, I no choice but to have a piece. After a quick trip to the back, he returned and presented to me one of the stranger combinations I had prepared to nosh. Basically, he had fried bacon rashers, dipped them in chocolate, sprinkled them with peanuts and let the whole concoction set in the refrigerator. The result? Pretty good actually. Sweet and salty. Melty, chewy, smokey, and crunchy. It had a lot going on.

Oh yeah. If that wasn’t enough, they have a beer store attached that boasts over 1000 beers in stock. If you were to visit their site and, navigate to their beer list and copy and paste that into a spread sheet, you would find that it’s actually around 1019. Holiday Market, eat your heart out!

PDX

10/22/08

Today was one of those days that just never seemed to end. And I mean that in a good way.

It took me all of about 30 sec to enter Oregon once I hit the road. I had researched a disc golf course that looked promising over in Pier Park on the west side of Portland. I arrived before it got too congested, which was nice because, being unfamiliar with the layout of the course, I was moving pretty slow. The course was build into a fairly old-growth forest. There were plenty of large, moss-covered trees surrounding me, and some nice elevation changes as well.

I headed back to the van after finishing my 18 holes to discover that the course was getting pretty busy. There was even a street meat vendor that had showed up. I ended up talking to him for a while and after telling him what I had been up to for the past few weeks and where I was headed, he advised me to visit the Breitenbush Hot Springs. He also happened to have a small pro shop with him and as I was in the market for a new driver, I bought one to go along with my Italian Sausage.

Heading back into the downtown area, I pulled up to the Rogue Ales Distillery & Public House. This is my new favorite Bar. They have approximately 40 beers on tap, about 35 of which they brew themselves. I found a seat at the bar and went to work on an Independence Hop Ale. This is a fresh hopped brew made from hops grown by Rogue. It didn’t take long before I was talking to the guy next me about my favorite subject. He was from Florida and happen to be here for a week with the sole purpose of trying as many beers and breweries as possible. As he was nearly finished with his tour of duty, he had more information and good advice than I could possibly digest. This would come in handy tomorrow…

The seat to the left of me had just been occupied by a woman named Rebecca. She didn’t stay for too long, but was kind enough to recommend an entire itinerary for the next few days of my trip. She was also kind enough to give me her card and to call if I had any other questions or problems while I was in the area. West Coast people are really stacking up the brownie points quickly.

After Rebecca left, a couple sat in the two empty seats to my left. Jen and Travis were recently married, and were out on the west coast on their honeymoon. I talk with them for wuite a while. They’re both very friendly and anxious to meet new people. They even invited me to join them over at a concert they were heading to around the corner. A band called The Waybacks was playing and they were both huge fans. They left to go get in line and I stayed for a while debating whether or not to take in the show.

Curiosity would eventually win out, and I headed over to McMenamins Mission Theater to meet up with the newlyweds. Despite the name, this place was also a haven for micro brew fans. The locals seemed to be tending towards the Terminator Stout, so I followed the fold and was not disappointed.

The band was outstanding! While they originated as a bluegrass group, they’ve incorporated folk, country, and rock into their sound and even gave us tastes of classical, jazz, and Cajun to go along with the lightning fast flat-picking, killer fiddle playing and occasional three and four part harmonies. By the end of the night every person in the room seemed to be in the best of moods. This music is not a sound that is common in the Michigan area, but I think they would sell out a venue at The Ark in Ann Arbor.

I started to fade fast after the concert let out. I had said goodbye to Jen and Travis and thanked them for inviting me along to the show. I got back to the van and slept right where it where it was parked – right across from Rogue as you can see from the picture above.

The Blast Zone

10/21/08

I decided to put off hitting the coast a little longer. Mt. St. Helens was relatively close by, and prospect of visiting a volcano that had a major eruption the same year I was born was too tempting to pass up. Besides, I figured the coast will probably still be there no matter how far South I go.

It’s an interesting drive along the road to the Johnston Ridge Observatory. At one point you pass a sign that reads “Entering Blast Zone”. All of the trees beyond this point have obviously been planted at the same time and it’s strange to see an entire “forest” of trees exactly the same age. As you approach the observatory, the landscape changes even more dramatically as the area has been kept exactly as Mt. St. Helens left it in 1980. In order to show the impact the blast had on the area, the trees have been left, sawn over by the blast, and splintered just a couple feet above the ground.

The facility at the end of the road is quite well done. There is a short film showing, step by step all the events that happened during the 1980 eruptions. It manages to be very informative, with being too cheesy or over the top.

Heading back west towards I-5, I was treated to another nice photo opportunity as the sun was setting.

I continued South stopping in Vancouver, WA for the night.

Supersonic flying fish

10/20/08

So this morning I had my first hangover of the trip.

What made it worse is that I had set my alarm for 7:30 because parking enforcement begins at 8am. I crawled my way to the front seat and moved van around the corner to the day lot. I paid the $10 for the full day and composed myself for a while.

After making some food, I set out on foot toward the Pike Place Market. Pike’s is a somewhat famous shopping complex. It’s three floors of open air seafood and produce stands, souvenir shops, restaurants, bars, cafes, and yes, even a brewery.

No. I did not drink any beer today.

One place that really stands out there is the Pike’s Place Fish Co. It famous for it’s friendly and boisterous staff. Oh, and the fact that just about every order of fish gets thrown through the air between two staff with very little warning.

Johnny Bench called for the squidball

After meandering through the market for a while, I headed over to a coffee shop for a while to blog a little and recharge myself for a while. After that I walked the city for a while.

Seattle has a good feel to it. The people there seem to be enjoying their lives a little more than what I am accustomed to. Of course there is a large population of homeless, but perhaps that even speaks to Seattle being a good place to live – home or no home.

I headed back to the van as it was turning to dusk. My final impression of Seattle was very positive. I can see why the city is so well regarded. It feels very vibrant, safe, and full of energy. There is a good mix of cultures that seem to have integrated very well. If that job had paid $20/hr I might have spent another day to consider it…

Unsure of where I was headed tomorrow, I parked at a motel in Centralia for the night to give it some thought.

Ok, fine. Here’s your picture of the space needle.

In the future, all buildings will be built like this. We will also have robot maids named Rosie.

Beer, Jazz, Pizza

10/18/08

Ok, so once I got into Washington State, I really started to get the itch to see the Pacific Ocean. I felt somehow drawn to it. I’m not really sure why, because I don’t surf, I’m not a great swimmer, and I’d rather not be attacked by a shark or a jellyfish or anything else of an oceanic nature. Nevertheless, I drove through the state on a mission. I didn’t stop for anything…….except Seattle.

I crossed city limits around dusk and was still holding on to the dream of driving non-stop until I hit salt water, but opted instead to drive around the city for a while. This being the first big city I had visited since I left, I was somewhat overwhelmed by the whole experience, and wasn’t sure if I could find a good place to stay the night. I had talked to Tina a few hours earlier and learned that she was on a day trip to Vancouver and would not return until tomorrow, so I was on my own.

As it was now dark, I headed out of the city and found a motel lot to stay the night in one of Seattle’s suburbs.

10/19/08

I got a hold of Tina this afternoon, and met up with her at a place called Chocolat Vitale. She had some studying to do, I had some blogging to catch up on, and this place had WiFi and really good chocolate. We chilled there for a while then headed out to meet up with her friends.

I’ll be up front. I drank a lot of beer that night. Apparently, when people find out you’re on a road trip around the country, they get this irresistible urge to buy you beer. Fortunately, and unlike South Dakota, I was able to repay a round here and there this time.

The first bar went hit had a wooden bar, wooden beams, and high-walled wooden booths with wooden seats. Nice place. In addition they had live music. It was a sax-drum duet that sounded somewhat like an experimental college jazz combo. I think it was the first time I ever heard avant garde jazz played live. Avant garde has the unique ability to ride the fence between entertaining and annoying. I can’t say that I really enjoyed it, but the performers were giving their all and that was enough to earn my respect.

The other members of the group were Brian, Joe, and Tim. Tim and I talked beer for quite some time and he was more than eager to suggest some good breweries as well as some individual beers. At some point during the night, Joe told me that he could probably get me a job in Seattle. I recall the words “scanning documents” and “$15/hr”. The idea of taking him up on his offer and living out of the van in Seattle for a while would play, on and off, through my cloudy head for the rest of the night. By the next morning, however, I decided to finish the trip. I thanked him for the offer and told him not to be surprised if I called him in a couple months on my way back out west.

The night continued with just Brian, Tina, and myself. We hit up an arcade for a while where I got to show off my Ms. Pacman skills before being humbled in Galaga. The final stop was for some pizza before I retired to the van. I would spend the night parked right on the streets of Downtown Seattle.

Huckleberry Country

10/17/08

ACT I: St. Regis – Not the Patron Saint of vulcanized rubber

Let me first start out with an observation: Huckleberry shakes are incredibly delicious. If you’re ever in St. Regis, Montana, I strongly suggest you stop at the Frosty Drive-in and try one.

About now you might be asking yourself “How did Rob end up in St. Regis drinking a huckleberry shake?”. Well, once again, let’s rewind…

Heading out of Missoula, I hopped on the I-90 headed towards Spokane, WA. The drive is fairly scenic as it winds along, crisscrossing the Clark Fork River, and is surrounded by the foothills of the Rockies on either side.

Less than an hour into my drive, I began to notice a slight vibration in my steering wheel. Having driven through some fairly winding roads already, I began to wonder if my wheels had come out of alignment. Seeing as I was only about two hours from Spokane, the next big city, I kept truckin’…………for about ten more minutes.

At almost precisely 3:45pm, and exactly as I was crossing the Clark Fork for the final time, my sidearm went and discharged on it’s own accord inside the van. Except I don’t have a sidearm. And I’m pretty sure that my left front tire just exploded.

Upon further inspection, after pulling off to shoulder on the bridge, my suspicion was confirmed:

I'm not sure if this one can be patched...

Fortunately, the good folks at Volkswagon were kind enough to supply me with a full size spare instead of one of those donuts limited to 50 miles. After installing the replacement and retrieving my hubcap that jumped ship 100 feet back, I gave a quick check to the air pressure in all my tires. The spare was a little low, but good enough to get me the three miles to the next gas station, which just so happened to be in St. Regis. Seeing as how I was still a little shook up from having a blowout that nearly caused me loose control and drive off a bridge (just kidding mom, it wasn’t quite that dramatic), and noticing a sign for huckleberry shakes, I decided to treat myself to one.

ACT II: Gusoline Alley West?

It was smooth sailing from Huckleberry country westward. I passed through the pan handle of Idaho on my way to Washington without seeing even one potato. What a ripoff.

It took me about an hour to pass through Idaho and enter into the state of Washington. Once in Spokane I quickly realized that The Viking was the place to be.

This place reminded me slightly of being at Gus’s in Royal oak. The room hadn’t been redecorated in years, the seats were beginning to fall apart a bit, and if they hadn’t been making popcorn, I suspect there would be a strange smell in the air. But it had character! Combine all this with a solid beer selection and you end up with a recipe for success in my cookbook. I sat for a while trying to catch up on blogging while trying a couple of local beers.

Near the end of the night, I ended up chatting with a group of regulars. One of them was quite the beer aficionado, and liked to talk about it. Fortunately, I don’t have a problem listening when I comes to beer. As it was past 2:30 now, we relocated to the back parking lot to have a tasting of his personal collection (which he apparently carried with him). He opened up a few bombers and shared them with the group. Eventually around 3:30 we would run out of beer. He was kind enough to drive me back to my van, all the while suggesting beers and breweries for me to try along my trip.

As I was up several hours later than I had grown accustomed, I crashed hard and fast when I got to the van.

Big Sky Country

10/16/08

The western part of Montana, while nice, is very similar to the western part of Wyoming – lots of wide open ranch land. So, while I didn’t mind the drive along I-90, I didn’t exactly stop to smell the flowers along the way. This got me to Missoula in time to research a good brewpub.

The Kettlehouse Brewing Co. is the place to be if you ever stop through Missoula. At least, it’s my kind of brewpub. No nonsense, and no frills. From where I sat, at the end of the bar, I could see directly into the operations of the business. Sacks of malted barley, staff hosing down the floor, and even a fork lift were a mere ten feet away. It felt very much like a brewery that just happened to have a bar in it.

The people were as diverse as the beer selection. Students, artists, mothers meeting with their children in tow, and men approaching retirement age were a few of the clientele that patronized the business during my stay. I sipped on a Cold Smoke Scotch Ale and enjoyed doing a little people watching.

A curious thing about Montana law is that establishments that brew their own beer are limited to serving their customers no more than 48oz of beer per day. That’s three pints (this only includes beer drank on premises and not growlers to go). They keep track of this on a little piece of paper so as I enjoyed my Eddy’s Out Pale Ale, I had a tough decision to make.

Seeing that it was still quite early, I opted to leave, temporarily, for the Iron Horse. They did not brew, but had several local breweries on tap. While this place could not compare to the atmosphere over at the KH, I found a place at the bar anyway. I ordered up a pint of KH’s IPA and laughed to myself over the ridiculous nature of the “brewpub law”. I could sit and drink as many KH pints as I wanted to in this building, but walk down the street to the place that made it, and now I’m down to one for the rest of tonight.

During my stay, I also tried a beer from Big Sky Brewing. With names like Troutslayer and Moose Drool, I couldn’t resist. I had their IPA.

About this time, I started chatting to the guy next to me about beer. He, like many people in this part of the country, seemed to have a taste for more than the big macro breweries can offer. I learned his name was Erik, and he was on business from Corvallis, OR. Upon telling him of my adventure, he had all kinds of good beer advice for when I hit his state. We traded contact info and he invited me to look him up when I got around to his neck of the woods.

I headed out looking forward to enjoying my last pint at the KH only to find that they had closed. I checked the time. 9:45pm. I looked in the bar again. The chairs were on the bar. Does Montana law also require places that make good beer to close at insanly early hours too?

I felt gypped.

Oh well. I walked back to the van for the night, somewhat comforted by the fact that Erik had informed me that there were over 30 breweries in the state of Oregon.

Sorry, no pics from this leg of the trip, bu I did add some more to the Flickr page from Yellowstone.

I think someone stole my pick-i-nick basket…

10/15/08

Come morning, my new friend, Tina, had to leave the Yellowstone in order to meet some friends in Seattle. We exchanged contact information, and since she was planning on being there for a few days, I told her I’d give her a call when I caught up and meet up with the group.

Being at Yellowstone is kind of like being on another planet that sort of resembles Earth. It’s difficult to be in any one spot and not be able to see steam coming out of a vent in the ground somewhere. In some areas, the geothermal activity is concentrated and the minerals that exit the ground have formed vast structures. Mammoth Springs took me about two hours to explore.

This is important. This means something...

After Mammoth Springs, I worked my way South through the park, stopping at the sights I had passed in darkness the night before. Prismatic Springs, Paint Pots, the Midway Geyser Basin, and Mammoth Hot Springs were my favorites.

So that you’re not scrolling down this page for the nest few hours, I would again suggest that you visit the Flickr Page to see the rest of the pictures.

After making my way almost down to Old Faithful again, the weather took a turn for the worse began to rain. Fortunately, I had seen much of the park already and was about ready to call it quits anyway.

More than satisfied with my stay in Yellowstone, I headed north towards the exit at Mammoth. Much to my surprise, when I entered Mammoth, I was greeted with another surprise…. A herd of elk!

This guy seemed to run the show.

The herd was parked right around the visitors center in Mammoth Springs. As if my first elk-sighting wasn’t good enough already, two of the young bucks were in the Rut.

With a ratio of 6:1, I'm surprised there was anything to fight over.

Leaving Yellowstone, I headed north and made it as far a Bozeman, Montana.  I had planned to visit a couple brewpubs, but after making dinner, all the mile of walking I had done that day caught up with me and I crashed for the night.