Welcome to Oakridge

This weekend is the Cascade Creampuff in Oregon. With the attitude that 'getting there is half the fun', I indulged myself by driving, rather than flying. Actually, Geoff did all of the driving, while I talked, and talked, and talked. Good fun.

You don't need to look at a map to know when you've reached the US - the loud, flag bearing Harley's, drive-through fireworks merchants, religious billboards and presence of Carl's Jr. franchises offer sufficient evidence of that. Stereotypes are not without basis. But, hey, there are positives that come with crossing the border, including American convenience stores that offer great support for road trips. Whether you're looking for beef jerky, a sit down meal, 37 flavours of coffee, a satellite radio, native american arts and crafts or a book, the American gas station has it all. 

The changing landscape made the drive feel surprisingly quick. We took turns picking music to set the ambience, rotating between ipod and NPRS, Christian Rock and Robotechno stations. Arriving in Portland during rush hour killed our momentum, but at least I had good company. We were passed by a Lexus with the license plate TORTS. Apparently one can make a great living as a cake maker down here (zing!). As we approached Eugene, we saw a cat balloon. What is that you say? Put simply: cat + highway + car + 35 degree heat. That thing was ready to blow.

We stopped for a fine dinner at the Sunrise Cafe at the top of Pleasant Hill. If we weren't famished, we probably wouldn't have even noticed the place - it was just a hole in the wall in the middle of nowhere. Self described as 'the best kept secret in Lane County' (I'm not sure how big Lane County is, but it is possible that this was the only restaurant in it), the place was packed and, by the time our dinner was served, people were waiting for tables. People watching is fun, especially when you are away from home. It's hard not to drawn to the laid-back Oregon vibe. I bought some of the homemade "Daddy Jack's Hippie Cereal" that was for sale at the cashier to celebrate our entry into this other world.  

It was almost dark when we rolled in to Oakridge. A town of approximately 3,000 people, there's not much to it. I hadn't brought the directions to the Ridgeview Motel, as I figured it would be easy to spot. But, after two passes down the main street, Geoff convinced me to check ask at the Blue Wolf Motel. As luck would have it, it was actually the Ridgeview Motel and was just in the process of changing its name and renovating.