For some reason, getting a good night’s sleep on trips has always seemed to evade me. But last night was such a welcome change—eleven whole hours of uninterrupted sleep. What a gift and great way to start the day.
Unfortunately, a Cracker Box breakfast wasn’t within reach today, so we headed down to see what our innkeeper had to offer to get the day started. We went with the basics: scrambled eggs, a few potatoes, orange juice, and coffee. Did I say basic? Yes, I did. But hey, it was complimentary, and coffee was involved, so who’s complaining?
Barb decided to add a little excitement to the morning. Upon returning to our room, she announced—in a voice loud enough to alert the entire hotel—“I LEFT MY PURSE!” This is not our first “return to the scene of the crime” to retrieve something left behind, and I suspect it won’t be our last. Most of our morning routines are pretty simple. Occasionally we specialize in treasure hunts.
Before joining the interstate, we stopped by the local Fire Meyer to fuel up and collect my 40¢-per-gallon bonus. When we moved from Oregon nine years ago, self-serve fuel was not an option. Apparently, times have changed. At least at Fred’s, half the pumps are now self-serve and the other half are attendant-served. With a 50/50 chance of pumping my own fuel, naturally I lost—and drew the attendant. So, in addition to filling the tank, we were treated to a complimentary ten-minute presentation on the many benefits of moving from Portland to Grants Pass. By the time he finished, I was expecting him to hand me a real estate brochure and a job application for Fred Meyer. All I wanted was 40¢ off a gallon. Instead, I left with a full tank and relocation pitch.
Our first mission of the day was to find and visit Barb’s sister’s grave in Oakland, Oregon. Normally, no road trip is officially underway until Starbucks has been secured, but the one we spotted looked suspiciously crowded. With an estimated 400+ Starbucks in Oregon, we elected to pass for now and fuel ourselves further down the road.
Hunting down gravestones is an art Barb and I have practiced over the years, usually with great success. Today, however, we were stumped. Oakland, Oregon, is a small rural town—population 945 hearty souls—well off the beaten path. It comes as no surprise, then, that the cemetery may not be well maintained. Case in point: a tombstone from the 1800s is slowly being consumed by a tree. The map we received marked a circle where we should find the gravestone. We spent an hour searching the area several times without luck. Barb was disappointed, but we left satisfied we had given it a thorough search.
With our unsuccessful search behind us, we headed back toward the Interstate to continue north. Just before the on-ramp, however, our luck took a welcome turn: we spotted a Starbucks only a block away. Properly fueled, we resumed the final leg of the day’s drive to Tigard, Oregon.
In another life, we had made the drive between Portland to Ashland many times over the years, so there should have been no surprises today. But there were. So many mountains, so many tall trees, so many passes, and so many rivers.Granted, a 1,700-foot pass doesn’t mean much when you once lived at 7,200 feet in Colorado, but when you live in the Arizona desert, 1,700 feet can be impressive. And as for the rivers, try to find one in Arizona that looks anything like the Rogue River. Go ahead, I’ll wait.
Once in Tigard, we headed over to my son Rob’s home. After many years apart, it was wonderful to spend time together again. It was also great to see his wife, Wendy, and our granddaughters, Jill and Kate. It was also time to hand over to the eldest son the bible, which has recorded the birth, marriage and death of family members for five generations.
We were now stuck in that familiar twilight zone of “too late for lunch and too early for dinner,” so we rolled the dice and were lucky enough to win an early check in at our overnight stop in Lake Oswego. We would have preferred a steak dinner, but sometimes you just have to accept what the dice hand you—and apparently, they were feeling budget-conscious. Despite having only complimentary scrambled eggs to sustain us, we opted for a healthy dinner of soup and salad at Olive Garden.
Tomorrow is our first and only overnight stay of the trip, which means a little housekeeping and perhaps some shopping—because nothing says vacation quite like doing laundry and browsing the aisles.




























