Freeway Free at Lake Tahoe: Besides Skiing…
Hiking boots still damp [See two posts ago] we decided ice skating would be the best option for an afternoon. . C started phoning. One place had a disconnected phone – probably not an option. We decided to check out the outdoor rink at Heavenly Village.
HV is a skier’s Disneyland. The gondolas leave from the middle of a pseudo alpine village with outdoor musicians, an ice-covered fountain, and various boutique shoppes and eateries. But the rink was dinky – smaller than the San Jose rink beneath the palms. so we tried Edgewood Lodge – sorry, not open to public. then the inside south Tahoe city Ice rink – reserved for hockey team practice and lessons except for Th-Sun. c thinks she might go on Friday when she is here alone – she brought her skates!
We were inspired, though, by the sign showing where those gondolas ended up – far up the mountain and on the other side of the ridge was the true Heavenly Valley. So we drove up the Kingman Grade (N-207) to HeavenlySki Resort. The gondola that goes up from the Village on US50 ends at a cluster of condos and cabins surrounding a take off point for several busy ski runs. This is literally another side of the Tahoe area, invisible from the Lake. We were hoping for some impressive lake views, but too many trees.
Nowhere to walk in the resort unless you were carrying skis over your shoulder on the way to one of the lifts, so we descended the Kingman Grade again, parked next to HWY 50, and took a walk along the South Tahoe bike way, then went down to the snow-covered beach and made our way back to our car. As we returned the sky turned blazing peach and pink and purple, celebrating our explorations. You can always count on Lake Tahoe to take your breath away, one way or another.
All is well as we head out. We make a brief stop at 
Back to Bro’s house after our wet, windy, but wonderful weekend at 
Our first stop – a quick visit to the local grocery to replenish our stocks of butter, cheese, and wine. By the time we exit the grocery, the morning drizzle has given way to sunshine. We make excellent progress down I-5 through Portland and Salem, and stop for our mid-day refreshment at the Albany rest stop about 15 miles south of Salem. Okay, so a highway rest-stop is not exactly a camping haven, but the big rigs kept their distance, and this particular stop does boast the world’s quaintest rest stop visitors’ center.
Astoria is way out on the furthest northwestern tip of Oregon, at the mouth of the Columbia River. It is the oldest city in the state of Oregon, founded in 1811, and named for John Jacob Astor, the New York investor whose American Fur Company founded Fort Astoria at the site. (Yes, the Waldorf-Astoria in New York is also named for him.) In bygone years Astoria was a bustling harbor, with schooner after schooner fighting her way past the dreaded Columbia River bar to pick up timber, fish, and furs, dropping off supplies and merchandise for the well-to-do families of trappers, fishermen, and lumberjacks.
We stopped for lunch after our museum visit at the Rogue Public House, a brewpub located in a re-purposed fish cannery out on a pier just down from the museum. We enjoyed their boutique beer, plus an excellent pizza and salad. Then we took advantage of a temporary cessation of rainfall to stroll the delightfully un-restored, un-modernized, un-redeveloped downtown.
At one end of Commercial Street is the wonderful wedding cake-like Liberty Theatre, located, of course, in the Astor Building. (See photo above.) We were visiting in October, so the Box Office was spectrally staffed.
