Travels with Chili: Lopez Island Idyll

For years I'd heard stories from friends who love Lopez Island—one of the San Juan Islands, a short hop on the ferry from Anacortes, Washington, north of Seattle—about its wild beauty and quiet spirit. I wasn't quite prepared to be swept away by the bucolic nature of the place, with its rolling fields and low profile perfect for biking and hiking.

By the time we departed after a long weekend, I was teary at having to leave—but I shouldn't skip ahead just yet.

Our cottage, number 4.

Our first sojourn on this smaller sister to its larger, more tourist-trafficked siblings was prompted by an invitation from Barbara Marrett of the San Juan Islands Visitors Bureau to attend an agricultural summit being held on Lopez. They offered to cover my attendance at the summit and one night's lodging, so I eagerly signed on and added two more nights at Lopez Farm Cottages, the better to do some exploring around the island.

Dave and I took the afternoon ferry from Anacortes after stopping for lunch in Seattle on what turned out to be a drop-dead-gorgeous, clear-blue-sky day. I find that whenever I set foot on a ferry, no matter how stressful the drive, I instinctively take a deep breath and feel myself relax into the rhythm of the thrumming engines and the movement of the big ferry as it glides across the water.

A "glampsite" at Lopez Farm Cottages.

Once the ferry docked, we drove down the ramp onto the island and found the farm a short drive away on one of the two-lane country roads that wind their way around the island. We parked in the large gravel lot next to a little wooden hut and found a note from owner Cathie Mehler welcoming us to the farm. With directions to our cottage in hand, we loaded up one of the wheeled carts with our luggage and walked the short path to a large meadow dotted with five cottages design by Cathie's husband, John Warsen.

John converted portions of the 30-acre historic farm property into simple lodging options including campsites and what he's dubbed "glampsites," as well as building the five cottages, but he and Cathie left much of the property undeveloped, including the meadow, woods near the road and a large pasture that he and Cathie rent out to a neighbor for her sheep. He said he designed the cottages in the same footprint as a typical hotel room, but arranged the homey space to contain a separate bedroom and bathroom, a sitting room and a small kitchenette with a sink, refrigerator and microwave.

Barn Owl Bakery goods at Blossom Market.

The two glampsites are kitted out with a queen futon (Sheets! Pillows!) in a carpeted tent, and a coffeemaker, microwave and access to showers and bathrooms. The dozen-and-a-half campsites are well-spaced and private, though kids under 14 and pets aren't allowed, the better to have a "quiet, peaceful experience."

Most of the island is agricultural land, with only one small village, though it has two coffee shops, a bakery and two very good restaurants—we dined at both Haven and Ursa Minor—as well as the wonderful Blossom Grocery that carries local goods from area farms and the astonishing organic, wood oven-baked breads made by Barn Owl Bakery at Midnight's Farm (which has its own two-bedroom farmhouse to rent).

Flowers from Arbordoun Farm.

Speaking of area producers, on Saturdays from May through September you can find dozens of local farmers, crafters, artists, bakers and more at the Lopez Farmers Market in the Village. Many of the island's farms welcome visitors who call ahead, including:

• Jones Family Farms: Nick and Sarah Jones run a shellfish farm at Barlow Bay plus raise pastured beef, lamb, goat, pork and poultry on their farm on the south end of the island.
• Sunnyfield Farms: Andre and Elizabeth Entermann have a raw milk goat dairy and produce cheese, yogurt, milk and meat.
• Midnight's Farm: David Bill and Faith Van De Putte raise pastured pigs and cows, and house Barn Owl Bakery, a yoga studio and have the first Dept. of Energy-certified compost facility in the county.
• Lopez Island Vineyards: Brent Charnley and Maggie Nilan run the first organic vineyard and winery in the state.
• Arbordoun Farm: Susan Bill grows flowers and produces all-natural skin care products.

An unusual feature of the agricultural scene on Lopez is the Ellis Ranch Conservation Easement, a 313-acre farm that Dr. Fred Ellis and his wife, Marilyn, placed in a conservation easement in 1985. Their aim was to protect the active, productive wetlands on the property and to ensure that its open fields remain undeveloped and available for agricultural purposes in perpetuity. Today there are three commercial family farmers stewarding the property:

• Horse Drawn Farm: Kathryn Thomas and Ken Akopiantz grow fruits, vegetables and meat that are stocked in the farm's honor-system farm shed. Most of the work on the farm is done using horses.
• Sweetgrass Farm: Scott Meyers and Brigit Waring raise 100% grassfed Wagyu beef and were featured in a New York Times article about a marketing startup called CrowdCow.
• T & D Farms: Todd Goldsmith & Diane Dear raise chicken, goats, hay, fruits and vegetables.

A community-funded cookbook featuring profiles and recipes.

A beautiful new book called Bounty: Lopez Island Farmers, Food and Community profiles 28 of the island's farms along with recipes celebrating what they grow. The result of a three-year, community funded effort, with gorgeous photographs of the food, farms and land that makes this such a special place, can be ordered through the Lopez Bookshop.

Walking, hiking and biking options are too numerous to mention, but Cathie and John at Lopez Farm Cottages have a great list of excursions. You don't even have to schlep your bike to the island, since Village Cycles has bikes for rent at hourly, daily or weekly rates. And of course, being an island on a calm inland waterway, you can also rent a kayak or sign up for a tour at Lopez Island Sea Kayak. I can tell you from personal experience there's no better way to explore the less accessible nooks and crannies of these islands.

In case you can't tell from the verbiage above, I'm in love with this place and can't wait to get back. For us, since shopping and tourist-y activities aren't on our priority list—though it's perfectly simple to take a ferry for a day trip to Friday Harbor or one of the other islands—this quiet place is right up our alley for camping, cooking, reading, exploring and hanging out. If those sorts of activities are high on your list, I can guarantee you'll love Lopez Island, too.

Photo of "glampsite" by Bill Evans Photography. Photo of Arbordoun Farm from their website.

Guest Essay: Haunted in Port Townsend

It's the eve of All Hallows Eve—Halloween to you trick-or-treaters out there—and I thought it might be  an appropriate moment to share this story by my friend, freelance writer and travel blogger Laurie Harquail, who wrote about a very unusual experience she had on a visit to one of my favorite destinations, Port Townsend, Washington.

Chapter One: Arrival

It was not a dark and stormy night.

In fact, it was the longest day of the year, and I had taken a Summer Solstice jaunt to the historic seaside town of Port Townsend, staying in what appeared to be a charming Victorian hotel on the main drag.

The lovely setting of this tale.

After a four-and-a-half hour drive, I walked into the main lobby of The Palace Hotel—sun blazing a trail in the late summer afternoon sky—and immediately asked the front desk clerk, Bob, “Are you going to tell me this hotel is haunted?”

And why did I blurt out this odd question? Because the main lobby had a strange kind of filmy feeling—as if a layer of gauze or a veil was laid over it.

Before I continue, I must digress. I have stayed in numerous “historic” B&Bs by myself, both here and abroad. I had also been in countless older homes for my previous job at Rejuvenation—and I have never encountered a place quite like this.

OK, now back to the story.

In regard to my question, Bob gives a nervous chuckle and tells me the hotel “does have an interesting past” as a seaport brothel. In a half-hearted attempt at transparency, he offers me the hotel’s “binder” which contains guest reviews.

For reasons I can’t fully explain (the reoccurring theme of the weekend) I tell Bob I’m not up for the binder, and that I’d prefer to remain objective. Bob then asks if I’d mind paying up front. And again, for reasons I can’t fully explain, I tentatively hand over my credit card and commit to my stay.

Chapter Two: Settling In

I follow Bob as he scurries up the main staircase which is presided over by a large portrait, "The Lady in Blue," and he plants my small suitcase in Room 4, Miss Claire’s room.

Miss Claire's room.

Despite its tawdry past, Miss Claire’s room is airy and bright. I enter, but immediately freeze in my tracks. The vibe overwhelms me. It feels like something is in the room—but I can’t see it. More specifically, it feels like a patch of sad energy gently hovering overhead—kind of like an invisible, clinically depressed blimp.

My first instinct is to bolt, but after a few minutes of self-talk ("There is NOTHING WRONG with this room, Laurie.") I decide to stay. To get the weekend off to the right start, I send “the presence” a telepathic greeting (no joke). Something to the effect of “Hey Miss Claire, you seem kind of down, and I’m sorry about that, and I know this is your room, and I’ll be a really good roommate."

I hit the telepathic “send” button and start to unpack.

Usually, for work purposes, I would take pictures in a historic hotel, but I decide not to use my camera (or for that matter, turn on the TV), fearing the camera flash or electronic devices might trigger a paranormal event. (Again, no joke).

And now, I am truly beginning to grasp the Victorian concept of "going mad."

“Shake it off,” I tell myself. I pull myself back from the brink, buck up and head out to dinner. After a lovely meal and a healthy dose of wine at The Silverwater Café, I head back to Room 4. With the table lamp on, I go to sleep. Thankfully, the night is uneventful.

Chapter Three: Things Get a Little Lively

Saturday morning arrives, and summer light floods the room early. “How ironic," I think. “My own little version of 'The Shining.'" I get up and do a gut check on the room. I feel Miss Claire is not present. Perhaps she’s out running errands. (Do ghosts run errands?)

The Lady in Blue.

I head out for a normal day of sightseeing, and make sure to leave the room extra tidy, thinking that if Miss Claire moves anything while I’m out, I’ll be able to tell. I return later that afternoon after an invigorating bike ride to Fort Worden. The room feels normal. I breathe a sigh of relief and relax, then start to get ready to go out for an early dinner. Although, at this point, I'm trying my best to apply makeup while NOT looking in the mirror since I know from childhood slumber parties that mirrors and apparitions go hand-in-hand. (Mary Worth, are you listening?)

And wouldn’t you know! While primping, the closed door to my room pops open—in that scary movie kind of way—creaky sound effect and all. “Hmmmm…” I think to myself. “Pretty sure that was closed." I shrug it off and attribute it to an old building with old locks. I continue to blindly apply mascara, when suddenly I feel something behind me.

So now, I break out in goose bumps, quickly brush my hair and leave. “She’s back." I think, “So I’ll just let her have the room to herself for a few hours.”

I fear I am starting to lose it.

Dinner is another lovely meal at the the Silverwater, washed down with two very large glasses of wine. After taking in some live music and knocking back another stiff drink, I feel fortified and ready to return to Miss Claire’s room. “One more night,” I say to myself.

It’s still twilight when I return, but I decide to turn in early. I switch on the table lamp, get into bed, pull the covers over my head and hope for the best. I drift off.

Fast forward a few hours. I’m sound asleep—that is, until the locked door once again mysteriously pops open. I sit bolt upright in bed, and say loudly, “Hello? Hello?” No answer. I walk to the open door and look out into the still-lit hall. I see nothing.

And then I have a funny thought—an epiphany of sorts. I realize that I don’t really WANT to see anything. I’m tired of this ghost stuff, and I am now more annoyed with, than scared of, Miss Claire. She reminds me of so many of roommates from days past, stumbling in late on a Saturday night, probably drunk, but meaning no harm.

At least she didn’t bring home a guy.

Epilogue

Sunday morning arrives, bright and sunny! My first thought of the day is, “I’m getting the hell out of here." I skip the shower (no more creepy bathroom for me), quickly pack up and say goodbye to Miss Claire. This time I speak out loud, for I am no longer in denial about her existence.

But before I go, I do review “the binder” which is chock full of experiences similar to mine—and then some. I also learn that legend has it Miss Claire was engaged to be married, but was jilted by a sailor who left her at the dock. Her never-used wedding gown was stashed in a trunk found in Room 4.

I hit the road. By the time I’m in Tacoma, I realize I've spent the weekend with a broken-hearted ghost, and have a full-blown case of the heebie-jeebies. For closure, I call Front Desk Bob when I get home and tell him my tale. Bob confirms that my story is “consistent with other events” at the hotel. I guess that’s paranormal-speak for this stuff goes on all the time.

As for me, I still sleep with a light on.

Read more stories from Laurie's travels around the Northwest at her blog, Venture Out. Read my story about a delicious and delightful weekend I spent in Port Townsend—sans ghosts, broken-hearted or otherwise. Photos from Palace Hotel and KOMO News.

Quick Trip: Astoria and Back

I have friends and family members (you know who you are!) who cruise airline reservation sites for deals and have plans made months in advance for getaways to celebrate special occasions. Dave and I are pretty much at the opposite end of that spectrum, waiting until the last minute to make a decision and often ending up staying home, though we usually manage to have a good time regardless.

River traffic view from the balcony.

Our anniversary this year was no different in terms of advance planning, but we were determined to take the bull by the horns and get out of town for at least one night. A favorite place of ours is Astoria, a historic port at the confluence of the Columbia River and the Pacific Ocean that's experiencing a renaissance with breweries, restaurants and retail flocking to its downtown core.

Just inside of two hours' drive from Portland, Astoria is perfect for a day trip or quick overnight. On a previous trip we'd stayed at the Cannery Pier Hotel (top photo), and decided to return there to enjoy one of the rooms that sit right on (actually over) the river. With a balcony featuring a front row seat to the river traffic plowing by under the Astoria-Megler Bridge, it provided a romantic moment for a glass of champagne before we headed downtown for dinner.

View from Clemente's dining room.

Clemente's had just opened downtown when we first went there, then in 2015 relocated to a dockside location on the town's Riverwalk promenade. The new location, now calling itself a "café and public house," is more casual and relaxed, a better fit with the restaurant's reasonably priced menu showcasing fresh local seafood and produce, and the setting with its view out over the river is wonderful.

3 Cups Coffee House.

Another new discovery, which Dave ferreted out the next morning, was 3 Cups Coffee House, handily located just a short stroll across the main road from our hotel and featuring coffee from local Columbia River Coffee Roaster. A sweet, casual throwback to coffee houses of old, the brews are solid, the food hearty and simple and the service fast but friendly…definitely worth a stop any time of day.

A quick drive down Highway 101 got us to the beach, where we could take a walk in the surf for an hour or so before hitting the road for the drive home, feeling pretty smug that we were able to get ourselves out of town to celebrate. Who knows, with this success in our pocket we might start planning for next year!

Read more suggestions about what to do in Astoria!

Travels With Chili: Day Trippin' to Cannon Beach

It happens a lot when I'm driving, as well as on those rare occasions when I'm on an airplane. I'll be puttering along on the freeway and ahead of me there's an exit sign that says "Ocean Beaches" or a sign pointing to "Seattle next exit," and I'll think, why not? Or maybe we're sitting on an airplane and the flight attendant announces the landing time for our destination and then says, "For those passengers continuing on to Paris…"

Well, lately—okay, honestly, since the election and the resulting chaos on the national scene—I've been alternating between covering my eyes to avoid seeing pictures of you-know-who and getting sucked into watching Alec Baldwin on Saturday Night Live.

So lately the pull to take that exit off the freeway has been almost irresistible. Fortunately for me, a friend had a birthday coming up and, instead of trying to buy a gift—which is always fraught with uncertainty for me—I thought, hey, I'll bet she needs a jaunt out of town as much as I do!

My favorite hands-down jaunt destination is the beach, just a 90-minute drive from PDX, and whether it's Astoria's historic, working port appeal or the taffy-and-Haystack Rock lure of Cannon Beach, there's really no wrong direction. Both drives are scenic, with a choice of forested vistas or a meander along the Columbia River, and easy driving, especially on a weekday.

And, of course, Kitty and Walker had to come along, especially since my friend was the lifelong caretaker of the departed ür-Corgi, Tai, who got us started on this big-dog-with-short-legs journey in the first place. Plus Corgis seem to be drawn to the waves like…well…like seagulls to the beach, so it was a win-win-win all the way around. Even though we got started a bit late, at 11 or so in the morning, we made it to Cannon Beach by 1 and were walking on the beach moments later.

I tend to avoid the section of beach near the touristy downtown and opt instead for pulling into the tiny city park just before hitting the main drag. It's separated from the Haystack Rock area by a creek, which tends to discourage the tourists from crossing it and makes for a nice quiet walk up to the bluff on the north end of town.

We were, of course, starving by the time we made it back to the car an hour later, so we zipped into town and nabbed a comfy booth at Bill's Tavern & Brewhouse where I had a lovely pint of their IPA to go with my spinach salad while my friend gobbled down their chopped salad. Despite the dire weather prediction, it was still astonishly gorgeous out, so we drove down to the south end of town and went for another stroll on the beach before heading back home.

With tired puppies, clearer heads and the memory of a perfect few hours on the beach to hold onto, it was just what all of us needed.

Travels with Chili: Overnight in Astoria (with Mushrooms)

Mention the word foraging. I dare you.

Chances are if I'm within earshot, I'll "lean in." And I don't mean that in a groovy,  women-in-corporate-boardrooms, outta-my-way-mister sort of way. I mean I'll literally walk over, shove my nose into the conversation and say, "Did I hear something about foraging? For what? Where? And can I come?"

Ranger Sam shows off an Amanita muscaria.

So by the time I got to the end of the sentence "I’m writing to see if you’d like to visit Astoria for a guided mushroom foraging trip…" I was already typing "yes" in reply to the e-mail from my friend Vicky Hastings, whose agency works with the Astoria-Warrenton tourism bureau.

You see, not only do I love hunting for mushrooms, I also adore Astoria. We've been there several times over the years and have watched it turn from a working port city on the Columbia into a great destination for day trips, overnight visits and vacations, all just a 90-minute scenic drive from Portland. Its dining scene has evolved from a few scattered cafés to one with several very good restaurants featuring local seafood, produce, breads, cheese and beer. And a new brewery seems to be popping up every few months to join ranks with the big kahuna that is Fort George Brewery.

The afternoon's haul.

Our first stop was at Fort Stevens State Park to meet Ranger Sam Gibson, a strapping young fellow with a big smile who was leading us on our foraging tour that day. Our group was small, just another couple and us, so we opted for the "off-road" tour that would give us more foraging time and less walking on trails to get to the more accessible—meaning more well-known and thus potentially picked-over—spots.

As we walked to a spot where Ranger Sam had found mushrooms in previous seasons, he gave us some historical background on the park, as well as pointing out some of the different varieties of mushrooms that we would be seeing during the afternoon. He said that the park staff had started offering foraging trips as a way to encourage people to discover its natural beauty during the winter months. (Contact the park office to arrange a tour, and check this guide for other foraging opportunities.)

Commodore Hotel lobby in Astoria.

Tramping up and down hillsides and gradually filling our bags with the large porcini mushrooms that were springing up out of the wet, moss and fern-covered forest floor, I was surprised when Ranger Sam mentioned that these densely forested hills were once barren sand dunes that had been planted with trees in the first half of the 1900s. Which is interesting, since Fort Stevens was originally constructed during the Civil War to protect the mouth of the Columbia River. Featuring eight gun batteries scattered across its more than 4,000 acres, those same trees have now grown to obscure the view of the Columbia from the batteries.

Lovell Taproom at Ft. George Brewery.

Saying goodbye to Ranger Sam back at the parking lot, we made the short drive into Astoria and our room for the night at the Commodore Hotel downtown. A restored 1925-era hotel that seeks to maintain its historic roots, it caters to modern guests with hipster amenities like beer on tap and an Ace Hotel-style lobby for communing. Rooms are updated with modern furniture and tiled bathrooms, but we were tipped off to a noise problem when we found packets of earplugs in the bedside table drawers—windows overlooking the street let in lots of light, but also lots of traffic noise, and the original wooden doors do nothing to keep out noise from the hallway.

IPA at Buoy Beer on the waterfront.

That said, Astoria's downtown district is bustling with activity and the hotel is within a few blocks of some terrific restaurants. We chose to go to Albatross & Co. across the street, chef Eric Bechard's intimate local watering hole-cum-oyster bar that has recently expanded its offerings to include a full dinner menu. Other dinner options nearby include the eclectically themed T. Paul's Urban Café, and Clemente's Cafe and Public House on the waterfront.

More casual dining can be had at any of the many brewpubs, including the aforementioned Fort George Brewery, as well as at Buoy Beer and Wet Dog Café, the taproom for Astoria Brewing Company. But a hidden gem we found this trip is the Lovell Taproom in the building next door to Fort George. An intimate pocket bar with a blazing fireplace, it often has special small-batch beers not found in the main brewpub next door.

Ordering at Street 14 Café.

The next morning we took the most direct route and checked out Street 14 Café, located on the first floor of the hotel. A comfortable cross between an espresso bar and an old-fashioned diner, the coffee is hot and strong and the food is affordable and delicious. If they could only get those well-seasoned waitresses with a coffee pot in one hand and a cigarette dangling from their lips, it would be the perfect throwback.

Travels with Chili: Mountains of Fun, Part 2

On a trip to Eastern Oregon for a food conference in May (read my report here), I decided to take a couple of days to explore this incredibly beautiful part of the state. You can read part one about the trip to La Grande and Union. The portion below follows up with our adventures in Baker City and a tour of a buffalo ranch in Halfway.

After a day spent sitting in a conference room, fascinating as the topic was, I was ready for a beer. Fortunately we were scheduled to spend the night in Baker City, home of the award-winning Barley Brown's brewery. In addition, we must have been due some karma points, since, on our arrival at the Geiser Grand Hotel, we were escorted to a corner room on the second floor with a stunning panorama of the aptly named Blue Mountains.

A sitting room with a view.

The historic landmark hotel, built in the Italianate style popular during the Victorian age, first opened in 1889 and remained in continuous operation until 1968. Threatened with demolition in the  early 1980s, it was bought by preservationist and developer Barbara Sidway and her husband, who spent several million dollars restoring the grande dame which now dominates the quaint downtown. From the gleaming woodwork to the filigreed railings and period chandeliers under the huge stained glass ceiling on the second floor mezzanine, it's clear this restoration was a labor of love.

Fermented libations at Barley Brown's.

After settling into our room, we strolled a block down the main street and took a seat at Barley Brown's bar, trying to decide on the type of beer we were in the mood for—mild, wheat, flavor, hoppy and bold are the categories listed. It's a small place by Portland brewpub standards, but features a wide-ranging menu from standard pub grub to a 10-ounce flat iron or 12-ounce ribeye. And from what we saw coming out of the kitchen, it all looked mighty tasty.

Our travel bar.

There was plenty of time before our dinner reservation at the hotel's restaurant that evening, so a snooze seemed like just the ticket to follow our pints. After waking up an hour later—and wondering why we don't do this at home more often—Dave reminded me that we'd brought our travel bar with all the fixings for martinis. A civilized cocktail in our elegantly appointed room before sashaying downstairs for dinner? Done!

Overlooking the Brownlee Reservoir and Richland, Oregon.

In conversations before we arrived, Sidway told me that once restoration of the hotel was completed in 1993, she felt the natural next step was to focus on featuring local food on the restaurant's menu. As I had found out at the conference earlier that day, being surrounded by cattle ranches, farms and fields of grain does not a local food system make. Most of the beef and grain was shipped out of the region to supply the commodity market, and the food available in local grocery stores was arriving from destinations hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away.

Buffalo mothers and calves near Halfway.

Since that time a few local ranches have started supplying the area with pasture-raised beef, pork and lamb, and Sidway has found small-scale farmers to supply vegetables for the kitchen during the summer months. As a result of meeting local producers for her restaurant, she also became active in promoting agritourism in the area. An outgrowth of those efforts is that hotel guests wanting to learn more about the economic and cultural importance of ranching to the region can now choose from a curated selection of Ranch Experiences.

Dave Dur, rancher, Halfway, Oregon.

One of Sidway's ranchers is Dave Dur, who supplies the hotel's restaurant with buffalo meat from the herd of 250 animals he raises on pasture in Halfway, Oregon, a little more than 50 miles from Baker City. Tucked in the foothills of the Wallowa Mountains, he (and his buffalo) also have a view of the Seven Devils Mountains on the other side of the Snake River in Idaho. On the day we visited in late May, the alfalfa on Dur's ranch was nearly ready to harvest and the foothills were so green it looked more like Ireland than the dry brown landscape I expected to see in that part of the state.

Originally from Pennsylvania, Dur owned an electrical business in Corvallis until he decided to buy the ranch in Halfway, though the buffalo only came along after he'd failed to make a go of sheep, grain, hay and cattle. A neighbor told Dur that he wanted to go back to Alaska, offering to sell him 12 buffalo for a good price. The animals turned out to be perfectly suited to grazing in his pastures. "These animals took care of themselves for millions of years," he said. "They don't need me to take care of them."

Buffalo on pasture in Halfway.

Tall, with a shock of white hair, crystalline blue eyes and a booming laugh, Dur has the courtly manners of a bygone era but isn't above making blunt observations. On a tour of the ranch, he also likes to shake up his city slicker guests by chasing some of bulls across the rutted pasture in his old Chrysler sedan.

"Murdered by his pretended friends."

After the merry chase, Dur took us to a spot in one pasture where there an iron cage surrounding a white marble monument (the better to protect it from buffalo that felt it was ideal for rubbing their horns on). It marks the spot where, as it states in flowing script, "Willard I. Moody was murdered by his pretended friends on this spot. Sep. 15, 1906." Dur said the story goes that Moody was killed in a disagreement over a woman, and that the memorial was placed there by Moody's father, with a similar marker on Willard's grave in the Halfway cemetery.

Now that's what I call a memorable farm tour. (Note to others: Murder? Buffalo chase? The bar has been raised!)

Read part one of this series about La Grande and Union. You can also read my report on the rural food system conference I attended.

Travels with Chili: Mountains of Fun, Part One

When I heard about a conference in Eastern Oregon that was going to be discussing the food system—meaning how people get food to put on their tables—in that rural region of the state, I knew I had to go. You see, I've been wanting to get up to speed on the issues faced by people living in our farther-flung communities, so different from the you-want-it-you-got-it life many of us live in Portland with Whole Foods, New Seasons and even Fred Meyer stores within a few minutes of our homes. (Read my report here.)

The one-day conference was in La Grande, about a four-and-a-half-hour drive from Portland, and I decided to take a couple of days to explore the area and talk with a few producers if I could. When I contacted the visitors' association about who I should talk to, they generously offered to host a portion of my lodging for the trip but let me pick the places—perfect since I'm not a big chain hotel type traveler.

On Chappy at my grandfather's ranch.

Now, you have to remember that Eastern Oregon, particularly the triangle defined by La Grande, Baker and Enterprise with their beautiful valleys, gorgeous mountains and miles of grain fields and grazing cattle, are an intimate part of my history. My mother's family had a cattle ranch in North Powder, at the foot of the Blue Mountains, where we would spend vacations. As a young "horse crazy" girl, I would ride with my grandfather to the ranch in the mornings in the hope of getting in a ride on the quarter horses they used for working cattle. My aunt taught swimming at Radium Hot Springs (sadly now closed), one of the many geothermally heated pools in the area, and another aunt had a rustic log cabin at one of the smaller lakes in the Anthony Lakes system, with a huge woodburning cookstove that looked more like a 30s-era American car with its chrome curliques blackened with smoke and age.

Yes, I do go back a ways in this country.

Ordnance Brewing in Boardman.

So we hopped in Chili, our faithful Mini Clubman, and headed down the highway. Once you're through the Gorge, always a stunning drive, and past The Dalles, there's never been much reason to stop—other than for gas or to use the rest stops—on the straight shot of I-84 to Pendleton. But I'd heard of a new brewery that had opened in Boardman with the amusing-yet-slightly-horrifying name of Ordnance Brewing, being as it sits on the western edge of the equally adorably named Umatilla Chemical Weapons Depot, the spot the government stored the nerve agents and other fun weapons they had prepared for WWII. You can still see the hummocks of the storage bunkers dotting the tumbleweed-strewn landscape between the freeway and the Columbia River.

A stop at The Prodigal Son Brewery in Pendleton.

Anyway, back to the brewery: we stopped on the way east but arrived slightly before it opened and so decided to hit it on the way back, taking our hunger and thirst a few more miles to Pendleton and The Prodigal Son Brewery. I'd written about it on a previous trip, and we again found it to be an easy stop to make, with the same great beer and hearty food, as good or better than that served at most pubs in Portland. Refueled, we were ready for the climb up Cabbage Hill's 6% grade and into the Blue Mountains, which would then take us down into the Grande Ronde Valley a little over an hour away.

The Historic Union Hotel.

The freeway over the mountains follows a series of streams, tributaries of the Grande Ronde River that will eventually flow into the Snake River, itself a tributary of the Columbia. We were headed to the tiny town of Union for the night, ten miles outside of La Grande. I'd booked a room at the 1920s-era Historic Union Hotel, refurbished in a comfortably charming, unfussy style by owners Charlie Morden and Ruth Rush.

Charming touches in each room.

Charlie, a keen collector of antique cars, has a classic Rolls Royce parked out front and is the hotel restaurant's chef. Ruth, who greets guests and sees to the gardens and upkeep of the building, showed us to the Davis Brothers' Room, one of the hotel's 15 themed rooms. It's a tribute to Union-area ranchers Pete and R.B. Davis, who lived in the hotel for many years. An interesting historical note: a stipulation of the brothers' inheritance from their family was that they would lose the entire fortune if either one ever married; they remained bachelors the rest of their lives.

Hot Lake Springs near Union.

Another option for lodging is Hot Lake Springs, once a derelict turn-of-the-century health spa near Union that was purchased in 2003 by Joseph-area bronze sculptor David Manuel and his family. Seven years and $10 million in upgrades later, it reopened as a bed-and-breakfast inn featuring massage and mineral springs spa packages, and has many of Manuel's sculptures dotting the grounds.

This area's hotbed of hot springs also includes the municipal pool at nearby Cove, a tiny town nestled against the hills ringing the valley. The pool is located directly over a natural hot spring, and is constantly refreshed by the flow of mineral water at a rate of 110 gallons per minute, keeping the pool at a constant and comfortable 86 degrees. Kids particularly love it because the bottom of the deep end of the pool is made up of the rocks lining the spring, fun for diving.

There's a nearby golf course, a wilderness excursion train and a tram at Wallowa Lake, but what draws folks to this valley—some fall in love with it and move permanently—is the plethora of year-round outdoor activities like hiking, camping, skiing and biking in the Wallowa Mountains, Hells Canyon and Anthony Lakes areas. Check back for more installments in this series, coming soon!

Read Part 2 about Baker City, plus murder and mayhem on a bison ranch! You can also read about my camping trip to the Imnaha River near Joseph, Oregon.

Discovering the Salish Sea: Port Townsend and Fort Worden, Pt. 3

Mention Port Townsend and I immediately think of its physical location: a forested point of land at the northeastern tip of Washington's Olympic Peninsula, jutting into the waters joining the Strait of Juan de Fuca with Puget Sound. This fortuitous placement made it an ideal seaport in the 19th Century, easy for large sailing ships coming up the West Coast to duck into, dock and unload their cargo.

Staircase detail with painted ceiling.

Which brings to my mind the other feature of the town, which is the astonishing number of intact Victorian homes ringing the port and climbing up the hills that overlook the harbor. Built by wealthy merchants and sea captains, many are still in private hands, and several others have been converted into bed and breakfast hotels. The large number of these historic buildings has given birth to a Victorian Festival in mid-March that features tours, a Victorian Ball and even a pub crawl of saloons and shanghai tunnels.

Elaborate Victorian post office.

What I didn't know about before this latest foray, courtesy of Christina Pivarnik of the City of Port Townsend, was Fort Worden State Park, originally a military facility built as an artillery fortification in the early 1900s to defend the Puget Sound. Now a state park that comprises more than 430 acres, it features 100 historic structures and spans two miles of saltwater shoreline with views of the Olympic and Cascade Mountains and the San Juan Islands.

View of parade grounds and the bay.

Our group of travel writers was scheduled to stay in one of the historic officers' quarters (top photo), and I was having a moment of déjà vu until Christina mentioned that the row of Victorian structures featured prominently in the movie "An Officer and a Gentleman." Built as duplexes to house the Fort's highest-ranking military families, they've been updated with modern kitchens and amenities and are available to rent to individuals or groups, some even designated as pet-friendly. Located overlooking the vast lawn of the parade grounds, the homes also have a stunning view out over the water.

Back in town there's beer with a view!

The grounds of the base include a large conference center and café, great for those of us who like a stroll with a destination that includes a snack, and ambitious plans are afoot to develop resort and education facilities over the next few years. Already there is a Marine Science Center on the property, 12 miles of hiking and biking trails, an artillery museum and a plethora of year-round activities for families and individuals, including the old gun batteries that are open for the public to explore (kids would love this feature, guaranteed). Plus, of course, a lively farmers' market in town from April through December.

Getting my steampunk on.

One incredibly charming feature of Port Townsend, and I'm not surprised considering its Victorian roots, is that it has become a nexus of activity for the steampunk community. In mid-June, in fact, you'll find the town flooded with characters straight out of a Jules Verne novel, outfitted for the annual Port Townsend Steam festival. One of the keepers of the flame for local steampunk enthusiasts is Olympic Peninsula Steam, which sponsors other steampunk activities throughout the year.

And don't worry if you don't have your goggles, helmet and hose—stop by World's End downtown like we did and get your steampunk on!

Read the other posts in this series: San Juan Island, Pt. 1 and San Juan Island, Pt. 2.

Discovering the Salish Sea: San Juan Island, Pt. 1

Salish Sea: The intricate network of coastal waterways that includes includes the Strait of Juan de Fuca, the Strait of Georgia, Puget Sound and all their connecting channels and adjoining waters, such as Haro Strait, Rosario Strait, Bellingham Bay, Hood Canal and the waters around and between the San Juan Islands in the U.S. state of Washington and the Gulf Islands in British Columbia, Canada.

When I got an e-mail offering a three-day insider's tour of San Juan Island, Whidbey Island and Port Townsend, all part of the region connected by the waters known as the Salish Sea, I couldn't say yes fast enough. First, the deep-green forested islands dotting the waterways are drop-dead gorgeous—Dave and I have explored some of the San Juan Islands in Washington and their counterparts to the north known as the Gulf Islands of British Columbia—and second, this tour, with its marathon itinerary, promised an exhaustive, in-depth look at several aspects of the region, including agriculture, tourism and industry.

The Majestic Inn and Spa in Anacortes.

In order to get an early start in the morning, I made the just-under-five-hour drive to Anacortes, Washington, for a quick overnight stay at the Majestic Inn and Spa (left), a historic structure from the late 1800s that has risen phoenix-like from several near-death experiences. Overlooking both Guemes Channel and Fidalgo Bay and with a 180-degree view of Anacortes's historic district from the rooftop patio, it's also within strolling distance of many of the town's best restaurants and shops.

I love ferries. There. I said it.

Another reason I love this part of our region is not only that it's driving-distance close (yet feels like a world away) and has the aforementioned spectacular setting, but you get to ride ferries to travel from place to place. Big and small, some carrying cars and others only walk-on passengers, ferries are, for me, the exemplar of the romance of slow travel. Chugging at water level among the green hummocks of the small islands and the expansive farmlands of their larger brethren, you get a close-up view of the life of the people who live here. Your fellow passengers carry overstuffed bags of their city purchases back to their island homes. Fishing boats head out to find the day's catch and bring it back to restaurants and processors. Small towns dot the banks along the water's edge, serving tourists and townspeople alike with gift shops and marinas, small manufacturing plants and businesses.

In the belly of the whale museum.

The ferry ride from Anacortes took just over an hour to arrive at the ferry dock in Friday Harbor on San Juan Island, and we were whisked off by tourism maven Barbara Marrett for a whirlwind tour of the town's whale museum—where you can learn about the lives of the two types of Orcas, southern resident whales and transients, that inhabit these waters, as well as the humpbacks and grey whales—and its Museum of Art featuring the work of international artists as well as that of the island's well-known local artists.

Historic (and possibly haunted) James King farmhouse.

The San Juan Historical Museum is a large hillside property dotted with historic structures like the white clapboard James King farmhouse—rumored to be haunted—plus the island's original jailhouse and a log cabin, all open for touring. But it's becoming much more than that, with the barn being converted to an interactive Museum of History and Industry detailing the stories of the island’s fishing, farming, logging and lime industries.

San Juan Island potter Paula West.

We stopped for a quick lunch of deli sandwiches, salads and cookies on the outdoor deck at Market Chef—all its menu offerings star locally grown ingredients—and it was off to visit the pottery studio of Paula West. On the way Barbara told us about the work of the San Juan Preservation Trust, a non-profit land trust dedicated to helping people and communities conserve land in San Juan County. Primary funding for the land bank is from a one percent real estate excise tax paid by purchasers of property in the county, with other revenue coming from private donations, grants and interest income. An interesting factoid is that any county in Washington can establish a land bank like the one in their county, but to date none has.

Potter West, along with her husband, Joe Cooper, who does mixed media sculpture, offers tours of her home studio and gallery, and is happy to demonstrate her technique to visitors. They both participate in a yearly Studio Tour over one weekend at the end of spring, which gives a representative sampling of the island's dozens of working artisans in sculpture, jewelry, pottery, printmaking, glass, fiber and fine art.

Pelindaba Lavender Farm gift shop.

While I decamped to do a couple of interviews, the rest of the group toured Pelindaba Lavender Farm—I can personally vouch for the farm's lavender teas—which was established by Stephen Robins, a native South African who settled on the island in the mid-90s. The name, which in Zulu translates as "place of great gatherings," was originally a simple plan to protect a quiet valley property. It has grown into a publicly accessible parkland that grows lavender and sells lavender products, generating income that supports the property.

Innkeeper Farhad Ghatan playing Chopin while Roxie, his beloved mini-Aussie, sleeps.

Our accomodations for the night were at the Friday Harbor Grand, a sprawling home overlooking the town and the harbor in the distance. Now owned and meticulously (yet comfortably) renovated by the ebullient innkeeper,  master gardener and airplane pilot Farhad Ghatan, it was originally named after Judge Bowman, San Juan County’s first judge and one of Friday Harbor’s founders. After our dinner at the Bluff restaurant on the waterfront, we returned to the Grand to find Farhad at his grand piano playing selections from the classical canon, a nightly tradition at the inn.

Exhausted from a full day of touring, I fell into bed with cookies baked by our host and a sip of wine, looking forward to a kayaking trip early the next morning.

Read the other posts in this series: San Juan Island, Pt. 2 and Port Townsend and Fort Worden.