Honeymoon Road Trip Day 3: Portland

Portland is easily the most confusing city to navigate by car. Simple as that. The numerous bike lanes, bus routes, and tram lines make it one of the easiest cities to traverse for pedestrians, ironically, which is a net benefit.

The day started with us leaving the hotel in Seattle and driving 3 hours to Multnomah Falls. With such a long drive ahead of us, we decided we needed a quick pit stop for some early-morning fuel. We stopped at Woods Coffee just outside of town and picked up a couple of seasonal drinks and a pumpkin loaf cake. I can't remember exactly what I ordered. All I know is that they know what they're doing over there. No notes.

The trek to the falls was, hands down, the most physically demanding hike I have been on since my trip to the Smokies back in 2022. The conditions were nearly identical: cool, windy, intermittent rain. There was a downed log in the middle of the route that every hiker had to climb over, under, or around. And like my time in the mountains of Tennessee, our adventure to the top of the waterfall was as breathtaking as my imagination could conjure.

The route was a mile long, one-way. The distance was a non-issue, or at least it would have been, were it not for the elevation change, the type where you can feel your ears pop. On a plane, train, or elevator, that's to be expected. However, experiencing this while walking is always bizarre for me. It's a slow process that helps me understand my own scale in the world.

We'd pass by others going either direction on the trail. I love the camaraderie that develops among strangers in environments like this, each passing journeyman affirming to a couple of random hikers that they are for sure nearing the summit, no matter how hard it is to believe. That means something to me. Sentiment aside, it's also helpful information to keep us motivated to reach the top. You'll never know if the journey was worth it if it's never completed.

And worth it, it most certainly was. The view from the observation deck was awe-inspiring in the most literal sense. Looking down at the suspension bridge we'd passed an hour earlier, I rejoiced in that "we were just there!" feeling that never really gets old for me. I have a strong sense of place, but something about the movement and the space's character remains surreal. It fascinates me, and this fascination is further exacerbated when applied at scale. The route to the top offered equally incredible vistas. Find the full gallery here (when the photos are eventually edited).

Making it safely down the mountain, Camille and I made our way to the city with the most confusing streets in America: Portland, OR. I cannot think of a way to articulate just how baffling these roads are. Words will not do it justice. But that's probably the worst thing about the city (from my perspective). Portland is a unique place, at once feeling like any downtown in America, yet with a distinctly college-town atmosphere.

In comparison to Seattle, Portland feels less sophisticated, younger, and more belligerent, in a complex way. I really like the vibe. Camille does not. It's an acquired taste.

The hotel was unambiguously nice. There was both a whisky lounge and a bistro on the ground floor. The room was very comfortable. It was less luxurious than the room in the first hotel, but just about my speed. I'm a 3-star champion in this space. I love a complimentary breakfast, two queen beds, industrial-strength floor A/C, outdated carpet, and all the other amenities. This was that, but somehow elevated. Very nice.

We only had enough time to drop off our bags and freshen up because we were starving. Scottie's Pizza Parlor SE was the solution. Fun fact: they hold (or held) a Guinness World Record for a pizza pie with the most cheeses. 102 is what I read on the wall. Insane stuff. But their character is not limited to this feat. They make delicious pizza, too. We got 4 slices and a Caesar salad, which was almost as controversial as the street situation. Camille, again, did not care for the salad. I shared that opinion at first bite. The arugula and dressing had an almost sour twist. Instead of just a bed of romaine, they included a variety of greens. I liked that. But the dressing was tart. I had to take about three bites before I finally understood the concept. Camille, the adult in the room, stopped after the first bite. I ended up really liking it. I don't know what it says about my tastes that I can power through a dish I don't like until I like it. Is that admirable? Or am I weak-willed? Is it pertinent to assign a value to this at all?

Anyway, after lunch, we visited The Grotto. Christianity has inspired art that is both beautiful and horrific, reflecting the deeds of its faithful. This was no exception. I could not help but observe such works as this with reverence. Raised Baptist, I have a genuine interest in the iconography, the characters, the grand narrative. My personal subscription to the theology is a non-factor in my appreciation of its works. We didn't get to see the upper gardens, but if they were half as inspired as the pieces below, I'm sure they were breathtaking.

Next up was the Ariel Tram, which offered a view of the city from above. Oddly enough, this did not activate my fear of heights. Portland, like Seattle, is a city built into the hills. As the tram rose, so too did the landscape. We never felt more than 3 or 4 stories above ground. Once we reached the top, the attendant suggested we visit the overlook around the corner. Apparently, we really looked like tourists. She quite literally asked us if we were. And I'm glad she did. The portraits we captured from that balcony are among my favorites ever. They have such a Night Out in Los Santos vibe (I just made that up).

After the skyline ride, we went to Powell's City of Books. What an apt moniker. That place is massive. As we browsed around, I was reminded just how many types of books there are. My love of reading and writing has been recently rekindled (this journal being evidence of that), so I spent considerable time actually sitting down to read. I read a short pamphlet by Mahatma Gandhi on Zionism from 1938. I also read a few passages from The Boy's Book, published in 1945. I didn't have time to sample Te-Nahasi Coats' Black Panther comics as I got distracted by an event on the top floor near the Rare Books section. This was my kind of store. I bought an indigenous first contact novel called Hole in the Sky by Daniel H. Wilson. I'm a couple of chapters in, and yeah, this is a page-turner. I may return to write more later.

Dinner was sandos from Bodega PDX. They're very true to their name. They even sell a chopped cheese. Camille got a cheesesteak. I got the Carmella, the famed sandwich from the Sopranos, gabagool, and all. They did not miss. The perfect way to end a cold and rainy day in Portland.