Dude…..Now doesn’t that word take you back to the 70’s? “Dude, that is rad”. I loved that. My sweetie and I decided to hop in our world famous bus, Lilly and head to Hood River. Cool little town, Hood River. It is a little surfer town right on the Columbia River. I had been there many times and always loved it there. My guy had never been so off we went. Cruising up I-5 we talked about many things, covering subjects and sharing opinions (some more than others).
I took the exit off I-5 on to yet another highway and somewhere along the way we took a wrong turn. Now I don’t know if you have ever taken a wrong turn off a major freeway heading into an enormous town but you might as well pack an overnight bag and some Valium cuz you’ll need it. We ended up by the airport heading for the bridge into Washington. Yes, Washington, like the state. That was definitely a red flag. Traffic was backed up as far as the eye could see. Now Lilly is air cooled and as you can imagine there was not a lot of air whipping through her vents at that moment. As we dissected where we went wrong the traffic began inching forward. As with most women the first thing I did was pull over for directions. Yes, as we had suspected, we were way off course. Now, I am directionally challenged so I had been here before, no seriously, I have been at that same gas station, asking the same guy (okay probably not the SAME guy) for directions prior to crossing over into Washington and yes, I had missed the same exit then too.
Back on the road we hopped and soon were well on our way to Hood River. Of course we stopped to see Multnomah Falls where we managed to get a whopping ticket for parking in a bus zone. Huh? We are a bus. I am gonna fight that one.
Our campground was on the Washington side of the river so we checked in there first before heading farther North. There are two bridges over the river and both of them are toll bridges. One was a dollar and one 75 cents. As we pulled up to the line it seemed to be backing up. I glanced ahead and saw a motorcyclist at the front of the line. What was he doing, negotiating for a reduction in the fare or what? After 45 long seconds we moved forward, paid our toll and crossed the bridge. One of four crossings that weekend.
We made our way to Hood River. We were drawn to the area where the kite surfers were hanging out. As I pulled in, what should I see but another red bus, just like Lilly without a pop top. That one was all retro just like my girl. A guy came around the side of that bus and walked over to talk to us. I think the first few words he uttered included the word dude and from that moment on I heard that word about 354 times. He said his bus’ name was Ruby. See, I’m not the only one that names my bus.
Kite surfers are an interesting breed. I guess the expected attire includes a dry suit and long hideous looking shorts over the top of the suit. Actually, they can be any hideous combination of stripes, checks, paisley, or plaid. Who knew? I guess there is some hidden dress code. Anyhoo, we laid on our blanket, enjoyed the sun, stopped and had a drink at a brew pub and made our way back to camp where we fixed an awesome dinner and crashed out heavily. We broke camp after breakfast the next day and decided to do a little fishing, in Washington of course. We had Oregon licenses so this rule bending seemed to be in order with how our weekend was shaping up. My honey caught two trout which we took home and ate. Actually, HE ate them, I was experiencing a little intestinal distress which is a whole other story. I managed to catch puny little bass that could barely swallow my hook. Hey, if nothing else it was entertaining as was our Hood River adventure.