Monthly Archives: July 2010

The Columbia Gorge Hotel is back in business

29 July 2010

HOOD RIVER, Ore. – To sleep and dine in the historic Columbia Gorge Hotel in Hood River, is to enjoy firsthand one of

Columbia-Gorge Hotel in Hood River Oregon

The columbia Gorge Hotel, bult by Simon Benson in 1921, sits west of Hood River on the cliff between I-84 and the Columbia River. Photo by Peter Marbach

the world’s most romantic hotels. Once called the Waldorf of the West, its former guest list reads like a who’s who including such notables as presidents Coolidge and Roosevelt, actress Clara Bow and legendary heart throbs Rudolph Valentino and Clark Gable.  So, for those who love this gem-among-gems in the National Register of Historic Places and those who have yet to experience it for the first time, the good news is that the Columbia Gorge Hotel has reopened.

“We staged a soft opening the weekend before we opened on Sept. 4, and the feedback was all positive,” said John Taffin, general manager. “We’ve made some changes and kept some traditions. The guest rooms now have complimentary wireless Internet and state-of-the-art flat panel TVs, but the décor looks the same.”

Spanish-style elegance

Visible from I-84 as you enter Hood River from the west, the Spanish-style hotel stands at the point on the cliff where the old Wah Gwin Gwin Hotel built in 1904 once stood. The hotel was built by timber tycoon and lumber magnate Simon Benson (also a patron of the Columbia Gorge Scenic Highway). Easily viewable from the hotel’s beautifully manicured gardens are the falls that drop 208 feet from Phelps Creek to the Columbia River below. Wah Gwin Gwin  is Native American dialect meaning rushing tumbling waters.

Stone bridge on the beautiful grounds of the Columbia Gorge Hotel

A hotel guest enjoys a beautiful fall day walk across a hand crafted stone bridge on the grounds of the columbia Gorge Hotel. Photo by Peter Marbach.

Honey from the Sky

Though the five-course breakfast is no longer an option, fresh baked huckleberry scones with Honey From The Sky, griddled venison hash with poached duck eggs and fire grilled huckleberry elk sausage are specialties that make up for it. Skilled in creating dishes historically associated with the Gorge, Chef Mat Grimsley’s specialties include Charred Sturgeon Fillet,  Zinfandel and Juniper Scented Denver Leg of Venison and Dry Aged Painted Hills Filet Mignon. In addition to dining in the restaurant, light fare (including The Big Gorge Buffalo Burger) is available from 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. in the Valentino Lounge.

A hotel for the holidays

Taffin, a 26-year veteran of Red Lion Hotels, is looking forward to the busy holiday season coming up.

“We are gearing up for the Christmas Lights Festival that has always taken place in the garden on the weekend after Thanksgiving and a New York New Years package where the countdown will start at 9 p.m. our time,” Taffin said. “Guests are already booking our special occasion birthday and anniversary packages and we have weddings scheduled well into 2010. I think it’s good to have the Columbia Gorge Hotel back in Hood River.”

For more information, contact Columbia Gorge Hotel at 541-386-5566 or visit www.columbiagorgehotel.com.

– Jan Jackson © 2010; See Jan Jackson’s Bio


I love Hood River

29 July 2010
Mt. Hood overlooking the beautiful Hood River Valley

A view from Panorama Point shows Mt. Hood towering over the Hood River Valley. Photo by Jan Jackson

HOOD RIVER, ORE. – It is not hard to understand how the town of Hood River, located at the panoramic crossroads of the Columbia River Gorge and the Cascade Mountain Range, made it into Patricia Schultz’s “1,000 Places To See Before You Die: A Traveler’s Life List.” With Mt. Hood at its back door, the Columbia River at the front and an eclectic collection of shops in its historic downtown core, it also isn’t hard to see why those who know about the place can’t stay away.Hood River, which boasts nearly 7,000 residents, takes its name from the river Hood (stated thusly to not confuse the two). However, both the town and the river came close to being called Adams River and the river Adams. Between 1830 and 1834, Hall J. Kelley led a campaign to rename the Cascade Range as the President’s Range and rename each major Cascade Mountain after a former president. He planned to start by naming Mt. Hood (named in 1792 in honor of Lord Hood of British Admiralty), after President John Adams.  However, the mapmaker made a mistake and placed the name on the mountain to the north thus preserving the name of Mt. Hood.

Hood River always in season

Hood River is a winter destination

Holiday time in downtown Hood River

The community that bills itself as always in season is not only one of the most agriculture-rich regions on earth, but the world’s wind surfing capital as well. Many people who came for the water sport, stayed on (or came back) to help the town continue to be the  unique place it is today.

“Though some things slow down during the winter months, the downtown scene isn’t one of them,” said Jamel Badrieh, marketing director for the Hood River County Chamber of Commerce. “We officially kick off the holiday season the first Friday in December by holding a fun and funky parade through downtown and lighting our traditional Christmas tree. The stores compete in a window display lighting contest, the Mt Hood Railroad hosts a magical Journey up the Hood River Valley aboard the Polar Express and Santa makes regular visits. Add strolling carolers, holiday shopping specials, free downtown parking, and four wine tasting rooms and three brewpubs rolling out seasonal beverages, it is definitely a lot of fun.”

“Also, Mt. Hood Meadows ski resort is a mere 40 miles south and there are ample cross-country skiing trails just minutes outside the town’s city limits. Hood River boasts wonderful shopping, great restaurants, art galleries, coffee shops, nightlife and theaters  that have a friendly, small town feel.

Hood River Fruit Loop

Hood River’s Fruit Loop, approximately 35 miles of orchards, fruit stands, wineries, forests, farmlands and friendly communities, probably is one of the community’s major draws and arguably the biggest agri-tourism attraction in the state. Visitors can spend as little as a morning or several days exploring the Fruit Loop’s unique offerings. It is a mecca for purchasing vine ripened fruit and vegetables and value added products like jellies and jams, all while having a good time at many of the u-pick fruit farms.

There is something for everybody in Hood River

Hood River paddle boarding photo by Dan Gavere

The annual Blossom Festival begins the season the third weekend in April and it is a steady stream of pancake breakfasts, BBQs, local arts and crafts shows, and antique sales. The festivities don’t stop until the last bit of fruit is harvested in the fall. It is a place that stages Cherry Jubilees, Lavender Farm Daze, Pumpkin Patches and Apple Cider Squeezes. By the time winter is over and the weather warms up, families and summer sports enthusiasts are back windsurfing, kite boarding, kayaking and paddle boarding in the Columbia.

Only an hour’s drive from downtown Portland, Hood River is perfect for afternoon diversions or a destination retreat. For more information, contact the Hood River County Chamber of Commerce toll free at 1-800-366-3530 or visit www.hoodriver.org

– Jan Jackson © 2010;See Jan Jackson’s Bio

Growing yarn in the foothills of Hood River

27 July 2010

HOOD RIVER, Ore. – If you are curious about alpacas or interested in quality yarn of all kinds, take Highway 35 about nine

Couple raises alpacas and sells the yarn in their yarn shop

Thomas Betts feeds a few of his alpacas while telling visitors all about the animals.

miles up and out of Hood River and follow the blue signs that lead into the parking lot of Foothills Yarn and Fiber. In seconds you are greeted by a fence row full of curious but friendly alpacas, shop co-owner Thomas Betts and (if he’s in the mood) a giant slow moving 5-year-old Great Pyrenees guardian-dog named Charlie, who is in charge of the night-time care of the herd.

Born in Portland and raised in Depoe Bay, Betts’ former life as an offshore sailboat racer and producer and seller of maritime products bears no resemblance to his new life in the foothills of the Columbia Gorge. One look around, tells you that Betts is in the perfect place – a place he’s at because of a simple sale of dock line for boats.

Feeding alpacas at Cascade Alpacas and Foothills Yarn and Fiber Shop

The Dankenbring family drives from The Dalles, to feed the llamas and visit a nearby pumpkin patch.

I retired from racing, sold my business and was working for West Marine in Portland when a guy from Hood River came in and bought dock line to use on his alpacas,” Betts said. “I really didn’t know anything about alpacas, so I went home and told Connie (his wife and business partner) about it, did some research and signed up for some classes on how to raise alpacas.
“To make a long story short, I sold my sailboat, we found a good deal on this farm and we bought our first four little females. We’ve been here now for six years.”

Betts met Connie when they were both students at what was then George Fox College in Newberg. They married in their sophomore year and then transferred to Southern Oregon College of Education where they both majored in education. Though Connie went on to become a teacher and Thomas did not, they both teach visitors and customers about the history of the wonderfully sustainable alpaca. To eager listeners, they explain how they harvest and process the 22 different natural colors of fleece, and between the two of them, they teach people one-on-one how to crochet, knit, weave and spin.

Thomas Betts shows customers how to spin yarn from alpaca fiber

Thomas Betts demonstrates what he calls his therapeutic spinning in the Foothills Yarn and Fiber shop.

“The place needed a lot of work when we bought it,” Betts said. “I took down the old fences and put up new ones, paved the dirt roads, upgraded the barns and turned the three-car garage into a 1,000-square-foot yarn shop. Between our alpacas and the ones I board for other investors, we have about 50 animals here now.”

The Bettses’ belief in sustainability goes hand-in-hand with raising alpacas and harvesting their natural fibers.

“Our pastures are good and alpacas are such good browsers with good digestive systems, they only eat one-half a bale of hay a month per alpaca. While it only costs between $300 and $400 a year to keep an alpaca, I pay $60 a month just to feed my dog.”

Betts said the shop carries the largest selection of alpaca yarn in the gorge, including some specially labeled yarn that comes from his own herd.
“People from all over the world come to Hood River for sports and then come back for fruit or to see our alpaca babies being born,” he added.

For more information on Cascade Alpacas and Foothills Yarn and Fiber, call
Thomas or Connie Betts at 541-354-3542, e-mail them at info@foothillsyarn.com. For address and hours of operation, visit www.foothillsyarn.com.

– Jan Jackson © 2010; See Jan Jackson’s Bio

Pigs dropping out of the sky

27 July 2010

The weather was lovely—a spectacular day to travel. Sometimes, though, trouble sneaks up with no warning.

My friend Mike promised to raise three wiener pigs for me. We’d agreed he could keep one for the freezer and I could have two back for breeding.

Six months later, it was time for me to pick up the duffle bag-size critters. Mike was new to raising livestock and didn’t have much in the way of facilities, so my plan was to offer them succulent treats from the garden like over-ripe squash, corn and pepper plants. Then I’d put the goodies inside my stock trailer and—in theory—the pigs would hop in. I’d close the door and head home.

The theory worked for one pig.

She jumped in the trailer. I could hear the smacking, slurping and burping of that happy animal.

The other sensed a trap.

For three hours, I coaxed, coerced and cussed that young pig that was, by now, wandering around Mike’s yard and refusing to look at the trailer.

Dusk was approaching. I was getting tired and cranky. My pig-corraling options were diminishing.

That’s when Mike showed up to help. One of us mentioned lassoing the pig with a lariat. We figured it wouldn’t work, but neither of us had any better ideas.

There we were, two middle-aged men dashing around the yard, twirling ropes over our heads and chasing a pig. Fortunately, no one was watching.

After sprinting for what seemed like several miles, Mike made a desperate lunge with his rope. The pig easily danced sideways out of his way and within feet of me. Without thinking, I tackled the pig.

Hanging onto a pig that outweighs me by 30 pounds was like clutching a running jackhammer to my chest and being dragged by a truck. The pig made a few circuits around the yard with me flapping along behind like underwear on a wind-

whipped clothesline.

I was trying to breathe when she bucked me off and l fell flat on my back. Drawing in my first breath, I saw Mike do an impressive flying tackle on that airborne pig. The next thing I saw was Mike and the pig dropping out of the sky and landing flat on my nose. I must have looked like a little kid that has his nose and mouth squashed against a schoolbus window.

The three of us were in a tangle of legs and limbs when I reached out and clutched the first thing that wasn’t wearing blue jeans. We lay in a heap and panted like marathon runners.

There wasn’t a blood vessel that hadn’t burst when pig landed on my nose. For a while, I was content to lie on the lawn and bleed. It felt so good compared to what I’d been doing just moments before.

After everyone’s breathing had calmed, we picked up the pig and put her in the trailer. She was as tired as we were. Afterward, I cleaned up and went home. My nose felt like a cantaloupe hanging off my face.

Somewhere, during the fine day, trouble had tiptoed up and walloped me on my swollen beak. I was sure glad to get home that night.

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Tick twitches

27 July 2010

Sometimes a simple ranch conversation creates unintended consequences.

High desert bugs, for the most part, don’t bother my wife or me. We could probably live our lives just fine without mosquitoes, but they’re not a big deal in this dry country. Deer ticks are another matter. For us, tick season is one of the signs of late spring or early summer.

The conversation usually begins when either of us is petting one of our stockdogs…

“Oh great…first tick of the season over here,” someone will say.

Yours truly, has the shortest dog in our household. I usually get the honor of the first tick sighting. While ticks are no big deal, we still get distinctly uncomfortable when they’re crawling on us.

This awareness of tiny crawling creatures leads to a painfully heightened sensitivity on our skin—we call it, the ‘tick twitches.’ Sometimes an itch will develop or a tiny hair will shift underneath your clothing. Your mind is suddenly certain that a blood-sucking bug is headed somewhere it shouldn’t be.

Our conversation continues…

“Would you give me a quick check?….I thought I felt something move,” I say.

“Naw, nothing there….can you take a look and see if any are on me?” she says.

Ticks and twitches can ruin a quiet evening of reading with sudden and unexpected dashes to the bathroom. But that’s not near as uncomfortable as feeling something shift under your clothing when in public.

The other day, my wife and I went to town to run errands. We stopped by the Dusty Dog Café and Coffee Shop for a bite of lunch.

That morning I’d been repairing fence in long grass, a known tick hideout. Even a long shower hadn’t helped my twitches.

In the middle of the meal, I felt a telltale tickle near my waistband. I was sure I had one of the little boogers on the run. Rather than leaping to my feet and unbuckling my belt, I hurried to the restroom to check territory that no one but me and a few ticks was interested in seeing. When I returned with no results, my wife was laughing.

“You jumped up so fast that the people at the next table asked me if you were OK,” she said.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“I told them you had the tick-twitches,” she said, still laughing. “Then they left the restaurant.”

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“They must live on a ranch around here,” she said, “because they looked at each other and were itching and twitching all the way out the door.”

“Oh, great,” I said, “maybe we should keep tick stories to ourselves; otherwise we’ll clear out the whole Dusty Dog.”

We finished the rest of our meal without much conversation. Only once did one of us suddenly sit up straight, eyes wide, then hustle to the restroom.

I’ll be glad when the season is a little warmer, dryer and the deer ticks have disappeared—I won’t need to talk about them for a while.

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