Saturday, 22 June
Our morning in Salem was unexpectedly memorable. It began with Isabel searching out the best-reviewed local breakfast place; after getting practically no sleep due to extremely loud appliances, bright lights, and train horns all night, we at least needed some protein. By the way, whenever someone suggests eggs and bacon, I think of the Comic Sans menu in Crete, delighted over in that precious summer window of 2020, that advertised ‘AGGS AND BACON’, ‘lamp or goat’, and ‘ANCIENT (legumes salad’).
The Word of Mouth Bistro was full up when we arrived. With an hour’s wait for a table for four, we decided to get on the virtual list and go for a stroll around the neighbourhood. The part of Salem we were in was like a more subdued, widely spaced Portland; nice and leafy but less overgrown and quirky. We happened upon an estate sale; my first time looking around one. And what a strange, voyeuristic feeling it is. Even stranger, the guy who’d passed away seemed to have a lot of interests in common with me: beer paraphernalia, medieval tat and travel souvenirs were dotted around. I procured a rather gorgeous but hole-studded Chinese kimono for a song, thinking of all its fixed-up possibilities. I guess that’s what estate sales are for.
Word of Mouth was….well. You know those out-of-body experiences when everyone around you is loving something you can’t stand? Yes, my ‘Trucker Love’ plate of one (it looked more like three) biscuit and gravy, two scrambled eggs with gooey cheese, and ‘Our Signature Corned Beef Hash’ (the best and likely healthiest part) was actually quite yummy. However, the decor and the waitress were eye-watering. Every surface in the café was plastered with “art” of the Live, Laugh, Love variety, much of it personalised to the business. A game I often play, ‘What in this room would I most like to have in my home?’, made my head hurt.
And the waitress? It was bad enough the first time I heard her, all in a perfectly rehearsed sing-song, ask the table whether we’d be drinking ‘anything besides life today’ (read, water), then ask me whether I wanted my coffee with ‘a pinch of cinnamon for luck and abundance’, and later try to fist-bump my grandmother as a ‘lucky member of that super–rare clean-plate club’ (to give just a few examples). But then I heard the entire spiel rotate around every other table in the crowded room. Also, I like to think that I don’t judge accents and genuinely enjoy their diversity, but this woman had an unfathomable quality to her vowels that was a bit like Lumpy Space Princess. Do people sue people in America because they’re annoying? Give me German table service any day.
The ensuing drive felt, if anything, even longer than yesterday’s. We were going inland, and there was many a very long, very straight road through trees that looked in serious danger of burning down in a wildfire. That said, there was also a lovely winding bit through the surprisingly warm Willamette National Forest, which was filled with huge lakes…leading us to increasingly question why we were seeking out Crater Lake in particular.
Finally, we arrived in Fort Klamath, a hamlet in the middle of the great plain at the approach to Crater Lake. Five or so houses, two motels, one with an attached ‘Organic Grocery’ — that’s all! Our ‘chalet-style’ accommodation was whimsical but not functional; for instance, the roof-space bedroom was either boiling or freezing at all times. However, the woman at the desk, who not only looked like Rosie the Riveter (RtR) but had an RtR tattoo and was stood in front of an RtR poster, was good fun, and I enjoyed introducing Alfie to cornhole, beach game of my childhood holidays with cousins in Florida. (He still needs some practice.)
Amazingly, my grandmother powered through and drove us up to Crater Lake that same evening. It was great — especially when you imagine a gigantic volcano collapsing in on itself almost 8,000 years ago to form it — but we were all super tired. I enjoyed sitting overlooking the lake with a small paper cup of cider and watching a stellar jay and a Clark’s nutcracker swoop back and forth in front of us, the latter diving in for one of our grapes. There was snow covering some of the walking path near us; most of the road around the lake was still closed due to snow. It hadn’t even occurred to me that this might be a problem! Dinner was a picnic ‘back at the ranch’.
P.S. I guess it’s good I’m only now discovering that the amazing Vice Munchies has extensive guides to Oregon and Washington on YouTube; otherwise I would’ve had to pore over all of those before our the bulk of our road trip! (A word of warning if you decided to Google these; one of the Oregon episodes starts in ‘the world’s first Vegan strip club’ — ‘keeping Portland weird’, indeed. I recommend this PG one on my beloved Frankfurt Apfelwein culture instead.)
Sunday, 23 June
One last drive! One last drive!
I didn’t sleep amazingly, what with coyote howls and crazy temperature swings all night, but I did get a glimpse of the starry panorama of the nighttime sky over Fort Klamath, which was wonderful. We headed out somewhat early, having procured a few tiny and expensive breakfast items from the local store yesterday. Things got drier and more burnt-looking as we got into California and further south.
We stopped in Weed, CA for the comedy value (‘the historic lumber town of’, no less), but didn’t find any t-shirts worthy of purchase. I did get a bottle opener for my key chain, something I’ve long meant to procure, so that’s good. Next stop was Dunsmuir, another old town that’s now home to several foodie attractions, including Dunsmuir Brewery Works. I’m very glad my grandmother suggested having lunch there; it’s one of this quite unlikely places that turn out to be excellent. Alfie and I enjoyed the unusual Britishness of their beer (even the Märzen and IPA), and the food (wings, Ruebens with ‘Kartoffelsalat’, etc) was delicious.
Soon enough, we were back in hot, sunny Redding. At Isabel’s insistence (she was leaving a day earlier than us), we had In-N-Out burgers for dinner. I can’t wait to go home and eat greens! She says.
My takeaways (ha) from a month of eating in the States, having been away for almost seven years, are as follows:
The portions are still really big.
Even tiny towns here tend to punch above their weight in food and brewery options.
The servers are all really friendly because American people are just really friendly!
Super-sweet specialty coffees that are 1 LITER (34 oz) in size should not be allowed.
These days, everybody wants you to ‘bus your table’ (clear it for the next customers).
We had just one meh meal out of many, which is pretty good going!
You can find really authentic Thai (and, of course, Mexican) food here, which is difficult elsewhere.
Typical American food is more German-inspired than I realised.
I don’t need to eat biscuits and gravy anymore.
I’m extremely lucky to have a grandmother who can take me on road trips (and drive the whole time!). I want to do it again as soon as possible.
Water is life :)
Love 💕 the pictures you have been sending and stories. I especially love the picture of the two of you. What a stunning scenery!
Deeply touching and extremely funny in places especially describing the waitress in some cafe or other ..can't remember back now .