Ontario to Prineville
With eagle eyes, I had noticed another self-serve waffle machine in the hotel, and at 8:45 this morning I was dressed in yesterday’s clothes, fetching breakfast for myself and Debbie, who was still in bed. In exchange I got a brief hug. We shared one waffle and one bagel, which I felt was very restrained.
We returned to Vale, where we had failed to get a room at the Bates Motel last night, and had a look at a few of its many Oregon Trail related murals. Apparently there is a wagon wheel rutted stone South of town, but we couldn’t find it.
We drove on through desert, mountain and plain, being treated to many great views, and occasionally to laybys where were could pause to enjoy them.
We pressed on to John Day — the town. It is in John Day valley, through which John Day river flows. John Day was a fur trapper and explorer who never came anywhere near this area. Here, we ate at the oddly named Grubsteak Mining Company. I had "tamale pie", and Debbie had a meatloaf sandwich. The food was nice, and the waitress was very personable.
John Day’s other attraction is the Kam Wah Chung museum. John Day — like many other American towns — was home to a community of Chinese miners in the late 1880s. The museum comprises a newly built visitor centre and a centrepiece in the form of the home and shop of a Chinese apothecary during that period. It had been locked up and deserted since the 50s, when the proprietor had died, until it was acquired as a museum, whereupon they found all his old stuff, including thousands of dollars’ worth of unclaimed cheques which were found under his bed.
The shop was manned by a very knowledgable and enthusiastic old lady, who led us through all the various exhibits. However, she was as deaf as a post, which made conversation somewhat surreal:
"Is there still a Chinese community in this area?"
"The shop was owned by Dr. Hay until he died"
etc.
Rather meanly, no photographs were allowed in the museum. What you’re missing is hundreds of bottles of chinese medicine, a Buddhist shrine, hats and clothese straight out of a Jackie Chan period film, and so on.
On the way out of John Day, we stopped to buy some drinks, and in parking I nearly collided with a parked pickup truck, because it was barely visible.
Our only other stop was to look down on the John Day fossil field, yet another volcanic landscape. After this we drove a winding route through these mountains, passing lots of stratified chunks of rocks at peculiar angles.
We ended up in Prineville, where the City Center Motel accommodated us with no trouble and very little cost. The Cinnabar restaurant recommended by Road Trip USA has since become a less formal pizzeria, which suited us very well: we shared a mesquite chicken pizza.
Now we’re in our room, watching the Hell’s Kitchen "season finale" (I have established that the contestants are not celebrities; Gordon Ramsay still isn’t swearing enough). We are drinking Rooster Tail Ale, brewed in nearby Redmond (not the Microsoft Redmond), and very tasty it is too.
We’ve also been playing with a Bopit Extreme, which we bought cheap in Target in Dubuque, ages ago, but didn’t get batteries for until today. I insist Debbie uses headphones, and she’s now got a score I’ll never match.