Before departing for Portland and the Columbia river valley, I read several travel guides to the area. But few were helpful. That's the trouble with books. One can't always depend on the opinions of another when it comes to cuisine, lodging, and entertainment.
Take Portland, for example. (And here I offer my apologies to those who live there or otherwise love the place.) During our brief visit downtown, where Becky and I did have an excellent meal (but I was too sick to enjoy it), we witnessed public fornication and urination along the Columbia river canal walk. Sure, I wanted to stick around, but once the large hand-rolled cigars began appearing, I realized these folks weren't toking on tobacco and we decided to cross over the river and begin our wine tour along the valley.
Visiting these wineries was the most relaxing part of the journey, and along the way I began reading Eugene Peterson's lectio devina (a free Kindle download nonetheless). Each of his brief devotional guides (primarily on Matthew's gospel) gave me some new thoughts to ponder and seemed to bring me joy in the midst of scenic beauty. I especially enjoyed those portions of the gospels where Jesus manufactured great wine, or was condemned by the hyper-religious for his enjoyment of wine, or where Jesus told parables about wine to demonstrate the joy and party-atmosphere of the kingdom.
I was ready to taste wine and spit it into those little urns and say things like, "ahhh, hints of clove and apricot, with a touch of saffron and great tannins, too. Very dry. Excellent finish!" These kinds of comments placed me in good stead with the cute barristas and often landed us free tastings. "Are you a wine critic?" one cutie asked me.
"Sugar," I told her, "I'm a travel writer, and I'm giving you a great write-up."
I wasn't lying. I've propositioned three editors to write travel articles on the Columbia river valley, but was especially surprised to find so many Hoosiers running or owning wineries in this area. In the little town of Hood River, Oregon alone I met a young lady from Zionsville and the owner, a Butler grad, seemed surprised to find an old couple like us so far from home. And on the other side of the river gorge, in Washington, a talked to a lady from Shelbyville who had matriculated to Maryhill winery and ran the whole shebang.
I guess we Hoosiers know how to do some things, after all. I seemed to meet them at every turn. And as for Hood River, what a town. Who knows, I might be back. Seems to be plenty of retired Hoosiers making a life there. And if Becky goes first, I already know some cute women who can pour me a glass.
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