This morning we pack up the Volkswagen in anticipation of spending the night in a campground on the Oregon side of the river. We will leave the RV here at Timberlake Campground.
We cross the Bridge of the Gods and head east on Highway 84. At the City of Hood River we grab a couple tacos at El Rinconcito, a tiny little café/trailer on the side of the road. The tacos are good and we are thrilled they have whole beans instead of refried.
We take Highway 35 toward Mount Hood. The day is overcast and drizzly. We pass rows and rows of pear trees and discover we are on the Fruit Loop, a community of fruit orchards and family fruit stands. We stop and buy a few apples and a beautiful red pear. This area is known for its apples, pears, cherries, raspberries, blueberries and Alpacas. Yes, Alpacas. Several farms offer Alpaca yarn and other products.
The highway begins to climb and we find ourselves surrounded by dense forest. We are approaching Mount Hood. Snow markers dot the side of the road. We are disappointed to find Mount Hood is covered in a veil of dense grey clouds.
So we travel on. Lots of highway work. It looks like the Hood River has wreaked havoc on the road system this past winter.
We begin to think about camping and remember a special evening ten years ago at Oxbow Regional Campground in the Sandy River Gorge. We have fond memories of sitting on the bank of the river watching the salmon roll and jump to catch unsuspecting flying bugs.
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| Campsite at Oxbow Regional Park |
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| Sandy River Gorge |
But first we stop at a local grocery and buy some fresh Coho salmon “caught by the Indians on the Issaquah River.” They even have “local” grown potatoes. Now I ask you, why can’t Ventura have “local celery” or “local lettuce” featured in Vons?
We head to the Oxbow campground and get a campsite close to the Sandy River. We take our folding chairs and a couple cocktails down to the river’s edge and watch and listen to the salmon splashing. A single fisherman is hip deep in the river. This is just as we remember it ten years ago. Nothing has changed – except the park rangers are much younger now.
We head back to camp and prepare dinner. Fred builds the campfire to grill the salmon and I prepare the “rustic” mashed potatoes (our favorite) – just chop up the taters, no need to peel, add a little salt, boil till very tender, and mash with a fork. Throw in some butter and salt and pepper. If too dry, just add a little milk. Easy as that.
Fred considers this the second best salmon he has ever cooked on a campfire and I have to agree. The absolute best was at Haystack campground several years ago as we listened to the coyotes howling. We still remember that salmon.
We end the evening with hot cocoa and cookies under the awning as the rain continues to fall all around us. We are dry and content. Life is good.
Lights out around 10:30.
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