However, with Dad along, I knew staying cooped up in the room writing or sitting for hours in cafes was not going to work. I tried suggesting a few things we could see in the area and when I mentioned the Mt. Hood Railroad, I knew I'd hit the jackpot. Dad is a long-time railroad fan. We grew up with a huge train set mounted on pulleys, which could be lowered to take up most of our large sunroom. (These were in the New York days, in Chappaqua, before we moved back to California.) I remember painting miniature buildings and helping attach tiny bits of green shrubbery around the landscaping areas of the set. The Mt. Hood Railroad travels between Hood River and the small town of Parkdale, passing some pretty spectacular scenery. They have Dinner and Brunch excursions, but also a regular, more economical, basic trip, which takes approx. four hours, including a one-hour stop in Parkdale. This is the one we decided to take. We barely made it in time, having first worked our way through the Columbia Gorge Hotel's complimentary "World Famous Farm Breakfast," a five-course feast of fruit, oatmeal, baked apples, biscuits, apple fritters, eggs with trout, salmon or a bacon/sausage/pork chop combination, followed, believe it or not, by a stack of pancakes. Whew.
Riding in enclosed Pullman cars from the 1910-1920 era, we enjoyed the trip up to Parkdale and disembarked to explore. Some passengers brought picnic baskets and spread their lunches out on wooden tables near the Parkdale station. Others ordered lunches on the train, to be ready upon arrival in Parkdale. We chose to wander the streets (really just one main street, as is typical of tiny towns) and found a good lunch at the Elliot Glacier Public House, a casual eatery and pub. Dad had chili, accompanied by some of the best cornbread I've ever tasted (yes, I stole a bite ;) I chose the salad bar, still overwhelmed by the earlier breakfast at the hotel. Being the offseason still, not many of the town's shops were open. There's a small museum there - The Hutson Museum - but we didn't have time to go in. Also a cute ice cream parlor and cafe, The Whistle-Stop (closed,probably just as well ;) A few antique shops and a gift shop run by the railroad itself. Hats, souvenirs, etc.
From the Mt. Hood Railroad station, we picked up the car again and drove east about thirty miles to the Maryhill Museum of Art, a chateau-esque structure of concrete and reinforced steel. Before arriving at Maryhill itself, we made a short side trip to a replica of Stonehenge that Sam Hill built as a World War I memorial. I thought it was interesting, though a group of visitors holding some sort of celebration or ritual on the center altar made it difficult to get any pictures. Dad, having been to the real Stonehenge, wasn't very impressed. Sometimes there's just no substitute for authenticity ;) On we went to the museum. Built by Sam Hill over a period of years beginning in 1914, Maryhill (named after his daughter) was intended to be a private residence, with surrounding farmland to be used as an agricultural community. The community never materialized and close friend and dance pioneer Loie Fuller convinced Sam Hill to turn it into a museum. It was dedicated in 1926 by Queen Marie of Roumania, but remained unfinished until, after much help from Alma de Bretteville Spreckles (San Francisco Sugar heiress,) it opened in 1940. The downstairs level houses an impressive collection of Auguste Rodin's works, as well as a display of Native American Art. Upstairs are various exhibits, including a current collection of chess sets. I was especially taken with a Theatre de la Mode collection, which I returned to twice before leaving the museum. As my mother was an avid and knowledgeable doll collector, these miniature wire models of french fashions both took my breath away and also brought on some emotional feelings. My mother would have loved to see these. I sat there for a long period of time, hoping by some magic that she was seeing them through my eyes.
We had dined the night before at a fabulous restaurant called Abruzzo's (Perciatelli noodles with chicken, sage, prosciutto and a light cream sauce for me, some kind of special that I don't remember - notes trapped in other laptop - for Dad.) Very small, great decor, excellent food. We wanted to try something different tonight, so strolled through downtown Hood River and ended up at the 6th St. Bistro. This is a very cool little cafe, commited to recycling all glass, paper, aliminum and other materials, composting coffee ground and vegetable waste and puchasing organic and naturally raised products. Here we shared a salad of mixed greens, pears, spiced walnuts, and dried currants in a maple vinaigrette, followed by a red coconut curry with chicken, zucchini, shitake mushrooms and toasted almonds. The salad was 7.95 and the curry 11.95. We were in culinary heaven and got out of there for under 30., including drinks (Diet Coke for me, of course, and a glass of wine for Dad.) Back at the hotel, Dad rested in the room and I sat downstairs in the lounge, listening to live music and jotting down notes in my journal. It was a very peaceful and relaxing evening. No wedding guests carrousing in the hallways. A chance to relax and enjoy, to rest up before our final full day together. We would head toward Portland the next day, where Dad would fly back to San Francisco the next afternoon. I would then continue north.
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When I travel alone, I don't do much in the way of sight-seeing. I tend to fall into a town, check into lodging, then drive the main streets, just looking around and getting a feel for the town. Then I try to find a small cafe or coffee house where I can write notes and maybe listen or talk to locals. If they tell me about something unusual in the area, I might head out that way to explore and photograph. Otherwise, I'm pretty reclusive.
We did somehow manage to roll ourselves out of the breakfast room and up to the train station, where we embarked on the winding journey along the rails. We passed several small towns and many fruit-packing warehouses. Tall stacks of crates towered in meadow areas. The railroad is an important link for transporting fruit from the Hood River Valley to the Columbia Gorge area.
The hour passed quickly, the sound of the train's whistle signaling the five minute warning to return to the train. We rode back enjoying the views from an outdoor observation car. I also climbed into one of two small cupolas in the caboose, which offered a higher viewpoint, though in a very small, enclosed viewing area.
We spent some time wandering through the museum's sculpture garden, then made our way back to the car. It was a full day and we were now hungry again. We drove back along the Washington side of the gorge, through the towns of Bingen and White Salmon, and back into Hood River.