We follow the river, away from the shadowed roads of Glenwood towards the dry hillsides of Southern Washington. The Maryhill museum is a little oasis of Russian iconography and Auguste Rodin sculpture. There’s a short interval for Oregon wine tasting and then we cross the Columbia River. Back on Oregon soil. With a 30% Hispanic population, Hood River unsurprisingly has a reputation for incredible taquerias. We have $2 tacos Al Pastor – the most delicious throwback to Mexico I’ve had in two years.
Mid-ice cream we realise that there’s less than fifteen minutes before the mineral baths close. Apparently sulphuric tinged water will be good for my leg, so we speed beside the sunset and arrive just in time. The basic premise it to boil oneself in painfully hot water for twenty minutes, before being trussed with towels and left to thoroughly steam for another twenty minutes. However, the pipes break halfway through, much to the bath attendant’s horror, and we’re left only partially cooked in a half-full tub. With a leg that has yet to be healed by Oregon’s miraculous waters, we drive home under a harvest moon.
To The Table 