A Different Drummer: Returning from Montana

I took you all the way up to Montana last week for a chainsaw carving competition. I guess this week, I need to bring you back home. You can ride with us. Take a window seat.
We hugged water all the way home. We did a big dogleg. After driving up in smoke, we wanted to enjoy our clear skies along the Columbia River out to the Pacific Ocean. We drifted over to Portland and followed Highway 101 South all the way to Lakeville Road and the Blackpoint Cutoff.
We took three days to drive north. We decided to take four driving south, as is our retired prerogative.
When four free-thinking adults travel together in a car, there are several decisions to make along the way. Who’s the navigator? That’s the first issue to resolve. Back in the day, one person, usually riding shotgun, held the only paper map. That person was the navigator, no questions. Not anymore. Everyone has a phone, a map, a thumb, and a curiosity about the road ahead. What you get is a symphony of Siris. To avoid confusion and competition, start your trip with, “Who wants to navigate?”
Other choices to resolve involve driving, music, food, lodging, conversation, and entertainment. Straighten out these cohabitation concerns early, make sure everyone gets a turn, and you can be as happy as a clam.
We all let Bud drive a lot. He likes driving and was a drivers-training instructor, so we felt happier and more relaxed when he took the wheel. Also, you know how passengers ooh and aah when you drive by something interesting? Bud likes to stop. I tend to drive by thinking, someday we need to come back. Bud pulls in on the first squeal. Thanks to him we got to see Howard Hughes Spruce Goose airplane at the Evergreen Aviation Museum. From the road someone yelled, “Look, airplanes!” That’s all it took.
“Look, a beach.” “Look, shops.” “Look, a diner.” “Look, redwood burl.” “Look, bathroom shrubbery.” “Look, a local brewery.”
Our first overnight was at Hood River, Oregon, 75 miles inland from Portland. Let me just say, if you ever contemplated moving to Oregon and like Portland except for its size, visit little Hood River. It’s happening. Mount Hood is behind you and the Columbia River is spread out at your feet.
On this trip, I got to introduce Bud and Sandy to the benefits of Elks, Moose, and VFW memberships. Every little town has one or more of these clubs, and the prices for food and beverage are unrivaled. In Libby the Vets Club faced the carving competition and sold barbecue.
In Hood River their Elks Lodge is jumping and located downtown overlooking the river. Usually these struggling clubs have only corporate beer and limited labels. This Elks Lodge had a row of Oregon’s finest craft beers. “Wow. Never saw craft beer before in an Elks Lodge,” I said with all my teeth showing.
The lodge director joined our conversation. She told us the club was thriving. Membership was double what it used to be, now over 650 members. “What made the difference?” we asked.
She paused and smiled. “We opened a gym. We made it free for members. We got over a hundred new applications in the first few months. We’ve been growing ever since.”
We had four craft beers for $12.75 and wandered off to explore more of the town.
The next day was all about wine touring. We left the main road and drove windy dirt lanes into far-off vineyards. We agreed on our strategy. “Visit one. They will point us to the next one, and so on.” We visited several. One suggested we visit an off-the-main art gallery. Good lead. Inside was a wealth of famous paintings and carvings. Most items sold for thousands. It was the Lawrence Gallery, one of the highest rated purveyors of fine art on the west coast.
On display are over 100 artists. He has about 40 Salvador Dali sketches. He has chainsaw carvings by the famous J. Chester Armstrong. We bought postcards. Our day ended facing the Ocean at the little town of Newport with a warm glow on our faces and a case of wine in the trunk.
Another memorable event, for me, was our next night’s stay at an Indian casino. At first everyone turned their nose up at the suggestion. I had to convince them. “Hey, did you like the inexpensive amenities at the Elks?” They did. “OK. Think about it. Casinos kiss your butt. They offer spacious rooms at low prices and sometimes a big breakfast. As long as you don’t gamble, they are a great place to stay when traveling. Like KOA.” They agreed.
We got the biggest room of the trip – massive king-size beds, wide-screen television, mini kitchenette with coffee and a microwave, and a cavernous bathroom. I got me some casino converts.
The next morning we crossed over into California. That was the third state to welcome us with giant cannabis dispensary billboards. We drove again through the Avenue of the Giants. I swear the trees are bigger than they were when I was a youth.