Portland, OR (July 12-13, 2008)

We made a weekend run down to Portland, which is just under 200 miles from Seattle. Both going and returning, the drive was prolonged by mysterious Saturday morning and Sunday evening traffic, but we had two warm and sunny days, which (although hot) were perfect for viewing the Pacific Northwestern scenery. We arrived at our relatives' house in the early afternoon on Saturday.

We first ventured off to Huber's (Portland's oldest restaurant) for a late lunch. I say "lunch," but lunch was sort of the side event. The main act was the oh-so-delish Spanish coffees we ordered. They came out with a little razzle dazzle presentation from the server. He slung Bacardi 151 rum into glasses, lit the booze on fire, then proceeded to sling Kaluha, coffee, and finally the cream to complete our drink orders. With warm cocktails in our tummies (and, consequently, smiles on our faces), we then ordered our actual meal. My vegetarian ways prevented me from delving into Huber's specialty turkey dishes, but I did enjoy one mighty fine grilled vegetable sandwich.

After lunch, we drove up to Council Crest, the highest point in Portland. As our car curved around hillsides, I knew we must be traveling updwards because my ears were popping like mad. When we reached the top, we could see Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Adams, Mt. Hood, and the very distant Mt. Rainier (the last of which is usually very near, visible, and large at home in Seattle). We stood, admiring the mountains and their unique distinctions. Our Portland-local family members indicated that Mt. Hood was seen as the commercial mountain (even it's shape looks perfect and "classic" mountain-ish); St. Helens hadn't had much of a commercial air since 1980 when the volcano erupted, and all the tourist traps were destroyed. Rainier was just plain far away, but you could see it on a cloudless day.

How funny-- even mountains have their own "personalities," if you will.

On Sunday, we went to the Portland Saturday Market. There, we perused the many artisan booths and shared a warm "Elephant Ear." I held my ground and did not make any additional market purchases because I knew we would follow up the Saturday Market with a trip to Powell's bookstore. Powell's touts itself as "the largest independent used and new bookstore in the world," and, in fact, we did need maps to get around all the many rooms and shelves crammed with books. Happily, I walked away with an armload of new reading material.

We didn't drive back to Seattle until the late afternoon. As we cruised north on I-90, buckets of sunshine poured into the car through its glass windshield. We cranked up the air-conditioning for the journey home.