The drive was really straightforward. We drove straight up the Gorge which is always amazingly beautiful. Driving past Multnomah Falls, Olivia noted that there were incredible numbers of people there. More than she'd ever seen. Wind surfers in Hood River, check. Ospreys and bald eagles, check, check. Road kill of various species, sizes, and states of decay, check, check, check.
We chose this campground in Pendleton because it was relatively close to Portland, would allow us to go to Walla Walla tomorrow to taste some wine on the way to Montana, and we could camp.
It was a little disappointing coming in. It's a KOA and seems to have more concrete than turf. Still, it does have WiFi, the bathrooms are great, and it's only about a mile from the middle of town. We went for dinner right away. We went to a place called Great Pacific Wine and Coffee. There was a sort of session going on, players sitting in a circle playing both bluegrass and Celtic music with some folk thrown in for good measure. There were multiple guitars, mandolin, banjo, singing... It was really quite nice.
They have tons of good beers both to drink there and take home. The prices were good, too. Seems like a nice spot and I could imagine going back if we weren't leaving tomorrow. I got a glass of malbec and a nice IPA to go with our white pizza. Olivia had a Guinness and the kids had lemonades. Afterwards we went for a short walk along the river and then up to the old neighborhood overlooking the city center. It was a lovely town and Ailsa informed us that she would not mind at all living there. She also said she was planning to be famous "singing, dancing, designing beautiful clothes, that kind of thing." "Being a scientist?" "No, not being a scientist."
We got back to the campground at sunset and quickly tried to figure out how to set up camp. It took longer than we wanted and will take some tweaking to get it right, I fear. After the sun was down, Ailsa insisted I walk over to the edge of the campground with her. She pointed across a grassy hill into a glen beyond it with a few houses. She said "Daddy, look! They have a village here. A real village! Do you know what it's called? Can we find out what it's called?" Her excitement made me realize two things. First, she is much more a city girl than I ever realized and, relatedly, we've got to get the kids out of the city more.
While we were in the bathroom brushing teeth before bed, someone was setting off fireworks...big fireworks...Indian reservation, illegal, huge fireworks. I saw one but Tallis ran out to watch. He said they were great. It apparently caused quite the hubbub at the campground with people swearing at the man. It wasn't because of a fire threat though. He scared people's dogs.
Ah the Fourth of July in the Real America. That's why they call them fireworks.
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