Voodoo. MAX. Powell’s.

Adventurous students took Oregon by storm during Spring Break! Check out their stories!

By Henry Milander, FIUTS Facilitator

Voodoo. MAX. Powell's. So would begin a normal conversation that I might have with a person who just returned from Oregon—oops, did I mean Portland? Well, it just so happens that Portland is but one cool city in our neighborly Beaver State. VoodooMaxPowell’s is a great version of Oregon, but with my FIUTS friends I globetrotted with, clearly it’s an abridged one at best. Our trip likely falls short of the complete version of the state, but with the fun we had, I wouldn’t be surprised if we got pretty darn close.

It was wet when we met at the Burke Museum, but with 5 hours of highway marauding ahead of us, we pointed our compasses towards Eugene, Oregon. But first, I was determined to spend as much of our money as possible in our consumer taxed state, so just short of the border we pulled into Vancouver for a lovely lunch. It was short-lived, since a Portlandia fever slowly overcame us, and urged us to saddle the horses and ride hard for Eugene Whiteaker International Hostel: a great (anti-)establishment if I ever hallucinated and thought I saw one. Piano riffs, group cooking and philosophizing are the abridged version of that first night—if you want the full one, find me and let’s go!

It was our first full day at the “commune,” and with that new challenges abounded. After the Herculean test of making a breakfast with varying degrees of success, some of us tightened our belts, others loosened theirs, but we all in the end left to hike at Mount Pisgah. At times the path was winding, at others it was steep, but with perspiration a sign of our perseverance, we made it to the summit. There were lovely benches, a compass rose, topographical map statue, and a biting, howling wind.

With those memories tucked in our heads, now crowned with a bird’s nest of hair, we felt like recouping at the “Dream Farm” before striking east to Cougar Hot Springs to hike or to take a dip on the whim.

What a drive. What a rainbow. What a downpour.

With tired minds, tired souls, tired eyes, and soaked clothes, we cranked the heat up as we dropped down the mountain, over the rushing river, and through the historic bridge that spanned it. On to the merry house did we go. That very night, the great innkeepers passed down to us the hallmark dessert recipe that any outdoor escapade must end with: s’mores. Okay, pay attention. First you take the graham. You stick the chocolate on the graham. Then, you roast the mallow. When the mallow’s flaming, you stick it on the chocolate. Then you cover it with the other end. Then, you stuff.

Alackaday! All good things come to an end. It was good, and it was good that if was good, but now it’s over. And that’s good too. With those bitter-sweet words for breakfast, we packed our belongings, and joined a caravan heading to the University of Oregon, and then on to Portland. It didn’t take long after settling in the Rose City for us to sally forth downtown and go to Powell’s books, Pioneer Square and the food trucks on SW 5th.

Ahhh, but I am forgetting the unmemorable: Voodoo donuts at the hour of the wolf. Midnight struck just as we left on a jaunty stroll down to Voodoo, and after a nice wait in line—accompanied by the caterwauling and harassment of our new friends on the street, the homeless and disenfranchised—we sunk our teeth into the goodness that is manifested in their heretical donuts.

Let there be light!

There were no grim faces today, for we all sprung out of bed and set out early that morning to the glens, dales, and bowers of Hoyt Arboretum. After getting the skinny on the best trails, we traveled to the Redwood platform and Winter Garden, enjoying the trees and natural beauty before reaching Pittock Mansion, a lovely piece of Portland’s pioneering history. After several more viewpoints along the trail, all a little too ‘westerly’ for our newly refined tastes, we returned to downtown for books, vintage clothing shops, and more food trucks.

That night, Ilene, hereafter referred to as Fearless, gathered a car full of brave souls and took them to ride the Aerial Tram, a dodgy gondola if I ever was the inspector. But the cables held, and the brave souls saw a great transportation system and sunset over Portland. As a nod to our “Dessert Club” tradition, we went to Portland’s greatest ice cream parlor, the Salt and Straw.

The next morning we forded the river and spent on Portland’s east side. In the early hours, Fearless Ilene took some to mooch around Lloyd Center, while I took others to walk around Mt. Tabor and Clinton Park.

After seeing their beautiful trails, reservoirs, and cherry trees, my forest friends and I walked down to District/Clinton area for some shopping in several vintage shops and a Tibetan activist store (not at all awkward for the three Chinese men with me).

After lunch, our one big family met at Tillicum Bridge, which some felt like we were taking a step into the future of sustainable urban development, or just a really pretty bridge for the rest of us! Fearless Ilene took people to Hawthorne and Belmont areas for more strolling while I took a group to visit the legendary Vanilla Bicycle Workshop, a famous custom bike shop shrouded in myth. After a sweet tour and getting to see the process start to finish of a high-end, custom road bike, we all met at Reed College for an afternoon stroll.

It didn’t take long for us to have a run-in with campus security, but it turned out for the best since he armed us with the history and geography of campus! Now with a cavalier attitude, we marched around campus, took their beautiful buildings by surprise, and cantered around their lawns and the river/park/nature reserve that somehow is part of Reed’s campus too.

Dinner for some consisted of Pok Pok Thai, a great, if not confusing place to order at, while others did us one better and went to the Salt and Straw again and to the William Tell House. Divided though we were, nearly everyone rallied and went to Voodoo Donuts, again. With donuts and ice cream in our tummies, we dreamt sweetly of our last day in Portland.

I always thought the saying, “the early bird gets the worm” involves a questionable incentive. Just so for our group; with a late start we bid the hostel adieu, and set course for St. John’s Bridge, and Cathedral Park, which is located directly underneath the saintly structure.

Many of us walked out to the middle of the bridge, while a few stayed below and explored the great park. Parks parks parks. After a successful detour to Multnomah Falls and its neighbor Wahkeena Falls, we finally crossed the border for home.

I am inclined to think, however, that we left part of our home in Oregon. Now that I have looked back at the places we stayed, the people we met, and the fun times that seemed so true to Oregonian spirit, I can’t help think that we now have a home in Eugene, at Cougar mountain falls, in Portland, in the line at Voodoos, and everywhere else that FIUTS took us.

But the greatest question of them all, and one that surely encapsulates everything and anything that is quintessentially Portland, is how is it that a shop that only sells beekeeping and bee-related wares possibly be-expanding!?! We love you, Portland.