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% HispanicContinue reading “Day Eighteen: Crossing The Columbia River.”
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Day Sixteen: Towards Mt. Hood
We pass a string of homeless men on Burnside as we trek to Voodoo doughnuts. I’ve never seen quite so many destitute people in one city, but as Hattie reminds me, I’ve never been to San Francisco. We eat the best doughnuts, filled with Bavarian cream and coated in chocolate. There’s a definite smell ofContinue reading “Day Sixteen: Towards Mt. Hood”
To The Table 