Advent 20

We stayed in an eccentrically styled motel and ventured forth on Highway 101 to explore the stunning Oregon coast. Yachats is one of those places where being alive seems a matchless privilege

Advent 3

It won't come as a surprise to anyone to hear that I am a big fan of Shakespeare's Globe on the South Bank. However if you pressed me to name the best place I have watched Shakespeare, I would point you to Southern Oregon and the town of Ashland, home to the ten month long Oregon Shakespeare Festival. The Groupie and I visited as part of a blissful Holiday and we even got to see my favourite bit of Bard - Antony and Cleopatra. Favourite that is until the next time I change my mind.

 

Train Delay

We're on the way from Portland to Vancouver - slowly as it happens. We are three and a half hours in and already two behind schedule. But at least the internet thingy is working so I can bore the world in the accustomed manner.

Not in the Michelin Guide

It occurs to me that I omitted to mention the epicurean inconsistency in yesterday's eating. As I last blogged, we ate in the evening at the outstanding Paley's Place. Which was nice. At lunchtime we had nachos, fries and a beer (well the Groupie had wine) at the salubrious Buffalo Wild Wings sports bar franchise in downtown Portland. Which was also nice - and that, I think, is my point.

I've just watched the first episode of Phoenix Nights. Peter Kay, genius.

Goodbye To All That

Sitting in reception at the Inn at Northrup Station having checked out of our last US hotel room. All that is left now is train to Vancouver, one night there and the plane home tomorrow.

It has been nothing short of fabulous and we treated ourselves to a highfalutin finish last night at the highly recommended Paley's Place. This was food and wine out of the top drawer. Mildly pretentious? Possibly but sometimes that can be nice. I wore long trousers for the first and only time on this holiday. Details at Posh Nosh Portland .

Portland grew on me. I strongly suspect it is a great place to live because food, wine, beer, coffee are abundant in independent splendour. Possibly not a great choice for a lengthy holiday stay unless of course you want to do the said food, wine, beer, coffee to death. Incidentally, Portland is the site of the first ever Fred Meyer store - our new retail fave.

I should have known it would happen - I logged on with a strong foreboding and found that England have capitulated in the cricket. Still tomorrow is another day.

No More Driving On The Right

Transport of delight

The OG tour bus has rolled back into the city, latest stop Portland Oregon. The tour bus (Ford Focus) has been returned safely and unmolested to Avis after fourteen hundred miles of faithful service - BFP doesn't do downtown driving, it is safe for neither him nor the locals.

First impressions of Portland are favourable - we even had a taxi driver who was listening to the BBC, what a dude! BFP/OG and the tour groupie are shacked up in the uber trendy Inn at Northrup Station, so cool it is bordering on glacial. The room has two televisions (but no pool to throw them into) and a kitchen. Dig the vibe at Northrup Station .

But enough of Portand for that will surely follow. No I must boast (that is the only fair word) about the day OG and groupie had yesterday. We breakfasted of donuts, tea for her and coffee for him. We then set out with every intention of buying lunchtime provender from the artisan bakery in Yachats. It was closed and this was our first stroke of luck because it drove us into the arms of the retail giant that is Fred Meyer, Florence, OR branch. Shopping is something America does better than us - simply put there is nowhere in England where one can buy four 250 ml picnic cans of Californian pinot grigio (for $4.99 mark you), two quality sandwiches, A tub of varied olives and peppers, a tub of fresh fruit, and a University of Oregon teeshirt all in one place. With air conditioning that actually works and toilets (sorry restrooms) that are fit for use.

The drive to Florence was fortuitous because the views going South-bound on Route101 are even more stunning than those we had seen coming up the other way. The Oregon coast is indescribably awesome so I won't bother, I'll instead cull a couple of pictures from the old inter web thing and hope they give you a flavour. Put it this way, I'm relatively well travelled but, in the words of the song, I ain't never seen nothing like this. The first is of the Oregon Dune Belt; the second of the beach at the Muriel L. Ponsler Memorial Picnic Area  off 101. We walked for a mile in each direction and saw, in mid holiday season, only twenty living souls - and four of those were dogs. Muriel must have been some woman to merit a memorial like that.

Finally a word for a fine end to a fine day - dinner at Ona in Yachats was very much up to scratch: chicken which Mrs OG/Groupie described as fabulous; surf and turf for OG/BFP in which the turf was good and the surf divine. We will be back to Yachats and, given the journey from Brum, that's quite a promise and quite a recommendation of a heavenly spot on the map.

Yachats, Oregon

Pronounced 'Yah-hots' apparently, this coastal town (or probably more accurately a village) is simply gorgeous. There is sand and surf and the interior rises steeply away from the sea into forest. On the hills are stunning houses. We are staying at the idiosyncratic (you have to climb around the toilet to get into the shower) but definitely loveable Deane's Oceanfront Lodge just outside the town - it has its own path down to the beach and they have a free DVD library for the use of patrons and complimentary coffee and donuts (more local spelling) each morning. Yesterday the weather was milder than has been the norm but that made it nice for an exploration of the local coastline and was certainly not enough to keep me from my obligatory dip in the ocean - cold but great waves for body surfing. I missed having the girls with me so that we could have done some 'nutter running' which was our patented method of running into the oncoming tide heedless of the temperature before diving into the oncoming swell. Doing it alone would have felt wrong.

We have filled our last two evenings by watching Meryl Streep films from the library at reception, US television being dauntingly multifarious and unnavigable. The House of the Spirits tried to do too much, based on what I must assume is a sprawling novel by Isabel Allende. It also had the implausibility of Jeremy Irons as a Latin grandee. However the narrative string was arresting and it was worth staying to the end. Just. 5/10.

Last night's offering was rather better and I'm surprised that we had never come across it before. Marvin's Room is littered with luminaries - Streep, Diane Keaton, Leonardo DiCaprio and a bit part for Robert De Niro. It takes the dysfunctional family trope to laudable heights and has comedy and tragedy running together in believable balance. You are reminded just what a considerable screen presence DiCaprio possesses as his young self goes punch for punch with his elder cinematic co-stars. 7/10.

More walking today and I may even buy another teeshirt. Tonight we are dining out. The standards set by our experiences thus far are high but Ona looks to be Yachats' plushest destination and therefore promising. I will have to take great care in choosing which teeshirt to wear.

Welcome To The Hotel California, Briefly

We left Ashland behind us yesterday with good memories and then took a circuitous route to our latest stop so that we could say we have been to California. The mountains of Southern Oregon/ Northern California are spectacular, steep slopes dominated by what we botanists call bloody big trees. And after the mountains comes the coast - about which one can only say, bloody hell, or perhaps in the vernacular, awesome dude. Mile upon mile of pure Pacific Ocean, sometimes surmounted by cliffs and then by the Oregon dune belt. Also awesome was the pizza we had for lunch in the town of Brookings.

Globe on steroids?

Now we are in Yachats, Oregon, staying within a stone's throw (well perhaps a few throws of a stone) of the ocean and miles of flawless sand. But more of that later. I need first to divest myself of my thoughts on the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. We saw a fine production of Antony and Cleopatra in Ashland's Elizabethan Theater (there's that spelling thing again) and it made an interesting contrast with my beloved Globe back in London. The playing spaces are similarly configured though Ashland is grander. Both are open to the elements - elements which in Ashland's case had flash-flooded the town just three days before our arrival. Where the Globe makes few concessions to the creature comforts of the spectator (the discomfort is part of the fun) Ashland is far more concerned about its customers - there is legroom undreamt of in even the most modern British theatre (there's that spelling thing again) and the roof covers all but the stalls. Tellingly, no one stands up in Oregon. Thus Ashland is Elizabethan(ish) in its acting environment but doesn't leave you squirming as the drama unfolds. There is also a notable difference in how the stage is utilised. The Globe knowingly eschews modern usage - no electronic sound system for example. Ashland does use amplified effects to augment the play and even had electronic surtitles to tell us where each scene was set. None of this was objectionable because, as he generally does, the Bard brings you back to the play. The programme notes (Ashland's substantial programme is free to each playgoer - a nice touch) correctly described Antony and Cleopatra as Shakespeare's most cinematic play and this production raced along nicely. There were nice directorial touches where scenes were made to overlap as the separated principals saw each other in their thoughts. A very good night and here's a tip should you ever be in Ashland and want a drink and bite to eat before the play, either make a reservation in advance (there are three theatres in the Festival and therefore three audiences worth of people descending on a smallish town) or do as we did and go to the Redzone Sports Bar. There were sixteen screens showing baseball but most importantly it had clearly been discounted by theatre-goers as a suitable venue for pre-show drinks. It's actually fine and you'll get a seat and the obligatory swift service. I had deep-fried mozzarella cheese sticks and a pint of IPA. Which was nice.  

Oh Me Of Little Faith

I have made a habit of being overseas for defining parts of memorable test series with Australia. In 1977 I was camped at the snout of an unmapped glacier in Iceland and thus missed the return to test cricket of Geoff Boycott and the emergence of the force of nature that was Ian Botham. Four years later I was coaching basketball (yes I do know that sounds implausible, in fact risible) in Massachusetts when Botham almost single-handedly wrested the Ashes from Australia. Communications being what they then were we relied on World Service reports relayed from base camp in Iceland and in 1981 my mate JRS posted me the press cuttings which I would read aloud to my fellow English counsellors at Camp Half Moon.

Well here we go again but now the internet makes the scores readily accessible. Last night I shared with you my instinctive fear that England might snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. I woke today to find that Australia were already seven wickets down so my trepidation moved on to the Cardiff weather perhaps saving the Aussies. By the time I had finished a splendid breakfast the game had been won. Will my return home be a bad omen? If so I have decided where I am going to stay - at the Kriselle Cellars vineyard.Dave's Oregon Office

Terroir and tasting room

We discovered their sauvignon blanc last night and today we paid the vineyard a visit. We tasted: the 2014 sauvignon blanc (perhaps even more attention grabbing than the 2013 we had already encountered); the rose; a cab franc/malbec/cabernet sauvignon proprietary blend; the malbec; the cabernet sauvignon; and the tempranillo. All admirable but that sauvignon blanc is the star. It seems they can sell all they make this side of the pond and my internet explorations suggest no UK distribution. Which means we will have to live off the memory of their modern and friendly tasting room with its mountain views and fresh fired pizza. Just to round things off there was live blues music from Rogue Rage Duo (Big Will Macfarlane, bless him, would have loved it) and the retired gentleman who shared our table was the former Attorney General for Nevada, a job which entailed having armed guards. Now that's a real lawyer.

Tonight it is Antony and Cleopatra at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival which as any fule kno is Shakespeare's finest play so they better make a good job of it. All I have to decide is which teeshirt to wear for the occasion.

A New Discovery On The Oregon Trail

There are a lot of seemingly silly little things to love about America. The quality of the service (helpful but unaffected) is one I keep finding myself banging on about. But it's other stuff that makes you happy - the size of parking spaces (such that you can actually get out of your bloody car unlike your modern British multi-storey) and the general good manners on the freeway.

Go on you know it makes sense

And here's another reason to be cheerful - we've found an Oregon sauvignon blanc that stands up to the  New Zealanders. Ladies and gentleman the OG gives you - Kriselle Cellars Sauvignon Blanc 2013. Mr and Mrs OG found it on the wine list at the The Brickworks in Ashland and were so taken that they found a post-prandial offie (liquor store as the locals would have it ) for a second bottle which is being imbibed as OG himself types away in the salubrious confines of the Oak Hill B&B. It's only rock and roll but I like it, like it, yea, yea, yea.

The miracle that is the internet means that I can keep tabs on the cricket scores from home and I am slightly concerned about the triumphalist tone of the BBC coverage of the first test - clearly all has gone swimmingly thus far but please boys let's not count our chickens. I will log on tomorrow with trepidation.

The Wrong Side Of The Road

The big cities have been left behind and OG therefore trusts himself to get behind the wheel. Our transport of delight is a Ford Focus - an uninvolving vehicle if truth be told but automatic transmission is a decided benefit when you are trying your damnedest to stay on the right side of the road.

Base for the last few days has been Corvallis, Oregon, home of Oregon State University (Go Beavers!) and a delight. This town of fifty-six thousand souls has no fewer than seven artisan brew-pubs (there might be more in which case I apologise). We have drunk and eaten in three of them and would recommend all, but, drumroll, my favourite (marginally) is Flat Tail (beavers have flat tails - geddit?) Truckloads of beer to choose from plus monster portions of honest bar food. It goes without saying that service throughout the town has been uniformly excellent. Tomorrow will take us down Highway 5 to Ashland at the southernmost extreme of Oregon and the delights (hopefully) of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

To help me master this wrong side of the road stuff we took a motor tour of the Willamette National Forest yesterday. Oregon is implausibly stunning - big landscapes, big skies and big blue lakes. We hit the road again today and took in the Oregon Garden, eighty acres of flamboyant planting - the Oregon Garden .

Thus far I have bought three teeshirts. More will follow.