As I explored Cottage Grove I learned some more interesting details that added to my picture of this town.  In 1926 Buster Keaton's The General was filmed here.  The final parade scene in Animal House was filmed on Main Street in 1978 and the 25th anniversary of the film was celebrated by a city-wide toga party !!!

There's gold in them thar hills!!!  In 1863, gold was discovered in the Bohemia Mountains west of Cottage Grove and there are still active mining claims in the area.

My time in Oregon has provided such close and easy proximity to all types of natural beauty.  The more I see and experience the more fail to understand how science can ever be separated from God.  Everytime I see God's handiwork, from the snail trail on the sidewalk at the park to the several glaciers crowning the top of Mt. Hood, I'm am astounded.
As I was researching information to set the stage for my Cottage Grove visit, I came across a piece of their history that fascinates and intrigues me.  It  involves a young lady named Opal.

mural on building in Cottage Grove

Opal Whiteley was born in 1897.  She grew up in the logging towns of Oregon but more especially in the Cottage Grove area.  As a 5 year old child Opal was already recording her observations and thoughts in a homemade journal created from miscellaneous scraps of paper.  Each page  expressed her love and amazement with the natural beauty that surrounded her.  Her teacher claimed she had genius and was at least 2 years ahead of her peers in school.
In 1915 she was acclaimed as a magnetic teacher and youth leader blending science and faith (this is the part that hooked me) in lectures to thousands .   In 1920, her childhood journal was published as The Story of Opal: The Journal of an Understanding Heart.  and quickly became the #2 best seller in the world read by presidents and kings. At 22 Opal was a major international success.  Unbelievably,  just a year later, her book was out of print and she was accused of literary fraud and lying about various aspects of her family life.Opal left Oregon, never to return. In 1948 she was placed in an asylum in London and after her 1950 lobotomy she never wrote again. Sadly, she remained here until her death  in 1992.
All her life Opal's greatest desire was to share the intrinsic beauty of nature with children through the written word.  On her tombstone is written "I spoke as a child"
Opal's story continues to intrigue.  Plays, musicals, and movies have been created to tell her story.  In recent years, interest in finding the truth regarding Opal Whiteley has resurfaced and many think the "fraud" allegation has been proven false. What was once labeled schizophrenia is not rethought to be Asperger's syndrome.
So the debate, continues and that mystery may never be solved.  However, none of this takes away from the fact that Opal's writings are a delight to all who enjoy the song of a bird, the rich blue of lavender in the height of its bloom, or the scent and cool shade of the fir trees. 

The following link gives info regarding Opal and a copy of writings.
http://www.efn.org/~caruso/fairyland/

Now, get this, as I was reading about Opal I came across an interesting website that tells about a woman, Nan Gurley, whose interest in Opal Whitely led her to write a one woman play telling her story.  Nan's performance of this play actually won an award at Charleston's Spoleto Festival.  As I read Nan's words and continued to peruse the website I learned that Nan Gurley lives in Brentwood, Tn.  So there I was, sitting in Oregon, reading insights to Oregon's Opal, written by a woman in Brentwood, Tennessee.  Amazing....the world gets increasingly smaller.
Nan's words are at:
http://opalwhiteley.com/

The Joys of a Covered Bridge

Centennial Bridge- built in 1997 by volunteer labor to celebrate Cottage Grove's centennial.  Materials came from earlier bridges that had been demolished.

I remember attending a delightful dessert party hosted by a dear friend.  When it came time for the coffee service she entered with a tray filled with an eclectic arrangement of delicate china cups and saucers.  No two were alike.  It was a treat to choose our favorite design from which to sip.
Exploring the small townships in Oregon has been like examining that array of cups and saucers.  Though the communities are connected by their northwestern heritage they each offer a unique piece to the picture I have come to identify as Oregon.
I visited another one of these towns recently, Cottage Grove.  Cottage Grove is about 25 miles south of Eugene.  I came to Cottage Grove because it is "The Covered Bridge Capital" of Oregon and I wanted to see the bridges. 

Covered bridges fascinate me.  Passing through them is like finding a little hideaway.  I love the sound made as you roll over the wooden slates of the bridge.  It makes me think of horse and buggy days.  I love to stand in the middle and look through the wooden slats at the rushing water below.  I love that I can hear the sound of the water flowing over the rocks.  I love to breathe deeply and take in the scent of the wood under, over and around me. 

 

I've always identified covered bridges as a symbol of bygone years in New England.  But I've learned that the many months of damp weather in Oregon necessitates the covered protection for a long and enduring wooden bridge life.
Most of the covered bridges across Oregon seemed to have been built in the '20's and  '30's.

Doreena Bridge-1949-Row River

Stewart Bridge-1930- best swimming hole in county

Currin Bridge-1925

 

Mosbey Creek- 1920-oldest in Lane County-still open for traffic

Gorging it in "the Hood"

Everyone kept saying "You've just got to drive through the Columbia River Gorge.  And be sure to take the historic highway, not the interstate."  So we got up Saturday morning and decided to make drive up to Portland and then take a right headed east, drive the gorge to Hood River and then loop back south of Mt. Hood.  We figured this would be about a 3 hour loop and then home to Eugene.  A long day, but definitely doable.  On the way we added a little to our trip by taking a detour to the outlets mall, but hey, sometimes you just gotta shop!

First stop along the historic trail was the Vista House.  Built around 1918 (to honor the Oregon pioneers) it is octagonal and 733 above the river giving it , you guessed it, quite a "vista" of the gorge. 

Now one thing we've learned on this foray out West is that, no matter how impatient we are to see the sights, it always pays to take to the info volunteers.  The info lady at the Vista House clued us into the fact that there are 90 waterfalls on the Oregon side of the gorge alone.  She advised us about the ones in the area that were easy to get to, so along the way we stopped to ooh and aah and take pics.  The most notable is Multonomah Falls.  It's the second highest falls in the US, falling from 620 feet.  Quite the tourist attraction.  They were even having a wedding on the patio of the lodge, complete with champagne and string quartet. 

We hiked halfway up the falls,(it was paved but a bit steep).  On the way up we passed an Hispanic family on their way back down .The mom was hiking in 4 inch stiletto heels.  Now, I'm the first to admit it is usually all about the shoes but how did she accomplish that feat? (or should I say "feet" )
Multonomah was the last of the falls on our tour and at Hood River(name of town) we took a right and moved away from the river.  The town of Hood River is on the Columbia River and is a well-known spot for kite surfing.  The wind comes down through the gorge at that point with enough power to buoy the kites and their passengers high in the air.  We caught a glimpse from the highway and it looked like so many butterflies riding the currents.
At the Vista House our info lady told us about the Timberline Lodge on the south side of Mt. Hood.  We headed that way thinking we would like to get dinner there.  At the turn off at Government Camp (another town) we made the climb up 6,000 feet to the timberline of Mt.  Hood. 

The timberline of a mountain is where tree growth ends, everything past that is rock and ice and snow.  The Lodge  was constructed in 1933, once again as part of the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) plan to put people back to work after the depression.  It is a giant ski lodge utilizing stone and wood, the best that the mountain had to give.  Inside there are wood carvings everywhere, emebbeded in the walls, on the newel posts of the the stairwells, in the furniture. 

The 3 story vaulted lobby/living room is anchored in the center by a massive stone chimney that vents the 4 back to back fireplaces that help heat the area during the winter when the snowfall averages 21 feet.  Almost everything inside is wood making the hugeness feel very warm and cozy.   Windows on both sides of the lodge take in views of Mt. Hood with its many glaciers and the rest of the Cascade Range and National Forest.

Furnishings and woven pieces have been restored and you really feel that you are touching a bit of history everywhere you go. Best of all, they had a vacancy.  So we spent the night on a feather topped bed under a down comforter in the middle of August and what should be the "dog days" of summer. 

One of the amenities advertised by the lodge is year round skiing.  I was a bit skeptical. But the next morning, while sitting at breakfast enjoying the view we could see the skiers and snowboarders lining up for the chairlift and a day on the slopes of the glaciers.
By the way....do you recognize this lodge?  Looking at the front of it, do you get a feeling of deja vu? Ever see the movie "The Shining"?  Shots of the Timberline were used for the outside of the lodge in that scary thriller.
It is absolutely awesome to think that our beautiful country has a place for  people to tan on a beach while others can be skiing down a glacier, all on the same day in the "dog days" of summer.  What a place!!!

Coburg and the "Classics"

Scattered among the hills and buttes surrounding Eugene are several small towns.  Visiting these small  town centers are like taking a step back in time.  Most have a bandstand and during summer months sport outdoor concerts, movies on the green, and a weekly outdoor market to sell fresh, local produce.  They also present celebrations unique to the town, like the Scandinavian Festival in Junction City complete with polka dance performances and Swedish meatballs and pastries.
Many  towns across  Oregon sponsor annual Classic Car shows.  Being the lover of movies from the 30's and 40's that I am, I have been longing to visit one so when I read the ad for the show in Coburg, off we went.  We got up on a Saturday morning and drove the short distance to the middle of town where rows and rows of bright, shiny classic cars were lined up. 

Owners sat around on folding director's chairs under portable tents visiting with each other and waiting to answer questions and share stories with curious onlookers.  Under a tent children were sitting at table building models of classic cars from car kits.  Volunteers were serving  box lunches of chicken BBQ (which I've learned just means chicken cooked on a grill).  And later a 50's dance was planned for anyone who wanted to sport their poodle skirts and try their hand (foot) at the jitterbug.

 What fun!   I could just see myself, in one of these beauties, hair tied back with a lovely silk scarf, cruising the 101 (Pacific coast highway) with the top down...kind of like Grace Kelly in "It Takes a Thief". 

Yes, these are the cars that set the stage for many of those classic movie scenes I've grown to love.

As we strolled and ogled we listened to strains of the Beach Boys- how apropos....

    Well I'm not braggin' babe so don't put me down
    But I've got the fastest set of wheels in town
    When something comes up to me he don't even try
    Cause if (it) had a set of wings man I know she could fly
    She's my little deuce coupe
    You don't know what I got
    Little deuce coupe
    You don't know what I got

Surf's up y'all!!!

Agate Hunting

This time of year, as opening day of dove season approaches, the High family begin making their plans for the annual family gathering and hunt.  But this year I've discovered a new passion (not that dove hunting was ever an old passion in my book).....agate hunting.
You don't need your gun safety course certificate and you don't have to stop at Walmart to stock up on ammo for an agate hunt.  Just grab a grocery bag and your windbreaker (cause it's always windy on the Oregon coast) and head to the beach. 

Oregon's coastline is blessed with agates just waiting to be discovered.   Any season is agate season but for those willing to be patient, low tide is when the water slides back and treasures are revealed. 

Bullards Beach at Bandon, Oregon is the site of my first agate hunt. 

The beach buffers one side of the Coquille Light House built on the jetty where the Coquille River empties into the Pacific.

An agate is a "rock".  More specifically it is a variety of quartz, mainly chalcedony that is characterized by its fine grain and bright color. They are usually associated with volcanic rock (of which there is an abundance in this area of Oregon). 
Rocks are very plentiful on these beaches , more so than shells and the colors and patterns embedded in their hard surfaces are beautiful.  Now it remains to be seen whether or not I've discovered any agates in my rock collecting adventures. (I've not yet sprung for the handy dandy guide to Oregon gems).  I do know that the colors I see when the wave retreats from the beach bring me joy, consequently I've come home with bags of rocks to fill the bowl on the coffee table. 

When I look at each of these rocks and hold them in my hand looking at their unique pattern of color and design and feeling their smooth surfaces, I am reminded that their beauty has been uncovered because of time spent being tumbled by surf and smoothed by sand. What a life lesson there is in that.

Coffee...nectar of the gods.

Coffee....
Love it.  Black and piping hot and so strong it reaches out of the cup and slaps you in the face...
Cold and creamy with that nutty flavor that calms you down and perks you up all in the same sip...
Frozen and straight from the ice cream carton- just me and  it and a spoon...
At the end of a meal with a dash of some luscious orange or almond flavored liqueur that turns it magically into "dessert in a cup".
Coffee is all these things and more.

As I've visited different areas of the country it's been interesting to observe all the ways in which coffee is presented and the esteem in which it is held.  
In Nashville you don't have to go to far to find a Starbucks or "Starbucks-type" coffee. My taste buds, just as many others, always found security in the chain type coffee houses.   In Columbia, there was no Starbucks to be found so  I tried several "baristas" who proved to be nothing more than wannabes. I did find one little coffee spot that seemed to have a nodding familiarity with how to do the brew and offered up a palatable alternative. 

But here in Oregon, well suffice it to say, the availability of premium coffee has risen to all new and enjoyable heights. Simply said, Oregon is proving to be coffee mecca.
I remember a colleague of mine telling me how his son, who had spent some time in the Northwest, on returning home was appalled at the absence of the independent barista and at John Q. Public's addiction to "chain" brands.  I gave him a quizzical look , being highly offended since I am Jane Q. Public.  But now...I get it. 

In the more populated areas of Oregon (of which there are only a few) you can certainly find the standard Starbuck's which always provide a taste you can count on and a comfy place to sit an compute.
But the supreme delight has been to discover so many independent baristas.  They come in many forms usually little free-standing, drive by kiosks out in a parking lot, but they can also be found in random places on the side of the road, in the middle of an industrial area or even just out in the middle of nowhere. I even spotted one on the sidewalk at the Jerry's (Home Depot type) store.  And, joyfully, all serve up a really great tasting brew.

I've learned that I can count on Oil Can Henry's as a compass for locating a cup of espresso. Oil Can Henry's is one of those quick oil change places.  Every location seems to have some type of coffee dispensary in its lot or attached to it's side.
One thing's for sure, in our travels up and over the back roads of the countryside and through the small towns  and wide-spots in the road of the mountains of Oregon, one thing holds true.  The sign may say "next gas- 50 miles"  but you can bet you're bottom dollar good coffee won't be that hard to find.
Ah, Oregon!!!  You are a people after my own heart!!

Below are of a few of the creative names and locations I've come come across.  There are many more but my husband's patience has rationed me to only so many  "Turn around...I need a picture of that cute little coffee place" kind of stops :)

    The Human Bean
    Supreme Bean
    Brewed Awakening
    Holy Grounds
    Nina's Pony Espresso
    Sweet Beans
    Caffeination Station

   
 

Lava Fields Forever

Everyone says we should see the lava fields.  I've seen the basaltic rock at the beaches but I've never ever heard of fields of lava.  So off we go toward the town of Sisters (named for the 3 Sisters Mountains) on the Old McKenzie Road.  The Old McKenzie is passable only in the summer months and isn't opened for action until July so... lucky us.
On the way we make a stop at Proxy Falls in the Deschutes National Forest.  I really don't know anything about these falls accept they are beautiful and fall from a height of 200 feet.   To get to them we had to cross over what was at one time a lava flow, kind of a trickle from the big deal.

• 

You go through this dusty bleak area and then come into a green forest floor.  The climb down the the lower pool is kind of tricky but  it's worth it because when you get there you can sit on soft moss and feel the cool mist hitting your face refreshing and reviving you.

Back on the Old Mac, the trek to the lava fields changes drastically from the lush, verdant woods of the forest to what is still, after so many years, a barren, charred wilderness that stretches for miles and miles, really as far as you can see.

The structure above is called Dee Wright Observatory and is built entirely of the lava rock.
The observatory was built in the 1930's by the Civilian Conservation Corp.  By the way, the CCC (created by FDR to give people jobs after the Depression.  Hmmm.....what a novel idea!)  built a lot of things in this area.  Bridge after bridge on the coast highway was built by those folks.  Before that, every time you came to a river emptying into the ocean you had to take a ferry to get to the other side.  That wouldn't work out well for a Type A personality.

The bronze disk looks like a sundial but is kind of like a compass that points to all the surrounding mountain peaks. On a clear day you can see mountains from Portland to near Northern California. Inside the structure are little peepholes and when you stand right in front of one, the peak you are seeing is the one that is listed below the little window. This is really cool for me since I can't seem to figure out which mountain is what.  This area of the Cascade Mountain range has the highest concentration of snow capped volcanos in the lower 48 states. 

At the top of the observatory there are some bicycle guys who are celebrating with high-fives and slaps on the back  the wonderful feat they've just accomplished...the stuff that biking stories are made of they say.   They go on to tell everyone that they've just completed the long climb up this mountain with almost no water becoming very dehydrated and almost passing out when they got here. I'm finding it hard to understand when stupidity left off and the heroic accomplishment began.  Why would seasoned bikers (which I assume they are as they're wearing the spandex to prove it) embark on this kind of  ride without such an essential element?   I just wanna say...."Seriously...what were you thinking?"

All the black rock you see is the leftovers from the surrounding molten gushers.  The "snag" trees are look like silvery ghosts next to the immense blackness.
 The lava rocks are very hard to walk over and I'm amazed that this area could be  traversed with horses and wagons prior to the CCC's road work.