Timberline Lodge and John Day Fossil Beds - Day 3

Even though I was drunk and Mark is directionally challenged, we made it to Timberline Lodge, a National Historic Landmark, where just a couple weeks earlier our travel agent reserved for us the last available room for nearly $200! I didn’t want to pay that much, but Mark reasoned, “How often do you get to say you stayed at a place where a movie was filmed?”

That’s right. Timberline Lodge, or the outside of it, actually, is where “The Shining” was filmed. Please see my amateur review of the movie.

Room 301, with window overlooking the pool, had a twin bed and a double. I passed out on the twin within a minute of walking into the room. I’m not sure what Mark did while I was out. He eventually woke me for dinner. We cleaned up and walked around the place before deciding which one of the four dining options we’d pick.

Timberline Lodge was commissioned to be built in 1936 (finished in 1938) by President Franklin D. Roosevelt as a Works Progress Administration project during the great depression. The craftsmanship throughout the lodge is something to behold, everything built or sewn by hand. The sturdy, almost immovable hardback chair in our room, the bed frames, the lounges around the fireplaces, even the stairs. Artist had carved the head of every railing into an animal’s head: a bear, a beaver, a raccoon.

We ate at Ram’s Head Bar and were lucky enough to find a table at the window with a near view of Mt. Hood. A wedding was taking place downstairs, and we could see the flower girl and bride’s maids on the patio out back. I got a chef’s salad and Mark got a BBQ pulled pork sandwich and white bean chili, which I ate half of. It was all good, however expensive.

Northern Oregon was hot in September, in the low 90’s the week we were there, and Timberline Lodge, being truly historic, has no air conditioning. It was pretty uncomfortable lying in bed in the heat, and to make it worse, the pool, just outside our window, was open until 11 p.m. I fell asleep easily but was also woken easily from the frivolity of families playing in the pool.

The next morning we chose not to eat breakfast at a restaurant in the lodge because it was a bit expensive so we checked out and in the car had Pop Tarts and fresh strawberries—from yesterday’s farmers’ market—and we shared a tasty, tangy tangelo. I wore cargo pants and a T-shirt and Mark wore shorts, but as we sat there, skiers with an aim for the lift walked through the parking lot wearing toboggans, gloves, sweaters, nylon padded pants, and ski boots. The ski lift was operating, taking skiers up to the glacier we could see. Our differing wardrobes proved quite the juxtaposition.

After our breakfast Mark and I hiked laterally on and vertically up Mt. Hood. I wanted to get to the bottom edge of the glacier, but Mark complained enough that we turned back about a mile and a half into it; he doesn’t mind hiking so long as there’s a reward at the end of the trail—like the falls we saw yesterday. But this hiking just to say we hiked to the edge of a glacier wasn’t enough for him.

Down the mountain and to SkiBowl, where I scheduled us to take Alpine sled rides down the track. I wasn’t sure how to get there and said aloud as we drove down the access road, “I hope there are signs that lead us there.”

Mark said that there was a sign—on the access road in fact.

“There is? Oh, good.”

“You were the one who saw it yesterday when we came in,” he said to me.

“I was? I don’t remember that at all.” If you remember from last entry, I thought I had gone to sleep.

SkiBowl offers several off-season activities for a price, and I chose the Alpine sled because I know of no other place that offers it. It wasn’t much really. The ride on the ski lift to get to the top was more thrilling than the ride down. Well, I did yell, “Wooooo!" around one curve, but the sled didn’t travel as fast as I’d figured. Mark’s was really slow. We guess maybe the lighter you are, the faster you go.

We aimed east to the Carno section, one of three, of John Day Fossil Beds National Monument. Smoke from the forest fires hung in the air. The drive was long and towns were sparse. We stopped in Shaniko, almost like a ghost town, to stretch our legs, and we found a candy store. The proprietor comes down from Vancouver, Washington, two and a half hours away, every weekend! To make her drive worthwhile, I bought half pound of Mary Janes, the candies like Bit-o-Honeys.

Less than an hour later we were at Carno. The National Monument had no Visitor Center but two lots, which were both surprisingly full. The Monument was really just the side of a mountain with some fossils in it. We drove to the far lot with some picnic tables and had lunch. Then we hiked a quarter mile back to the mountain side and all around. I climbed some rocks, to Mark's protest, and I wouldn't come down until he took my picture. It was an OK diversion since nothing else was planned for the day. However, if I’d known then what I know now—namely, that John Day Fossil Beds, Carno section is not much—I would have scheduled a full day in Bend, where we were headed to next. We did learn that Oregon, 44 million years ago, was a near-tropical region inhabited by alligators and small, four-toed horses. The area was near desert because of its location between two mountain ranges that stopped inclement weather from getting in.

In Bend we found our Days Inn relatively early so Mark relaxed with his ESPN while I lazed by the pool. Then we cleaned up and, at the suggestion of the motel clerk, walked down the street to Ernesto’s Italian Restaurant. I got a veggie calzone for $13.50. It was half the size of a medium stuffed pizza. Huge! But it wasn’t too tasty. Mark got seafood fettuccini, which was extraordinary. The best thing of the night though was the dressing to my house salad. The Best Dressing Ever. Mark dipped some bread in and agreed.