A Big Adventure to Oregon

For as long as I could remember I have always wanted to do the all American road trip across the country with just a map and loose plans. The goal would be to not use google maps, not make reservations ahead of time, not do any real research of places to see, things to do, where to eat and just see where the road and local recommendations takes us.

So when we decided to head up to Bend, Oregon to see Cody and Brenda during the kids’ potato break (1 week off of school) we decided to not make formal plans other than two nights’ accommodations in Bend and see what would happen.

The goal: Drive as far as we could on Monday (stopping when we got tired), get to Bend Tuesday for two nights and then make our way home the long way starting Thursday.

The Reality: Things started out good… I made reservations for Bend for Tuesday and Wednesday and “convinced” my Type A self that the rest we would leave up to chance. But once on the road, the googling, mapping and researching began. How much farther until the next big town, if we stopped in City X what would the hotel options be? Were there good restaurants nearby? How much further would the drive be to Bend the next morning? How late would it be if we just drove through to Bend all the way.

Yup, looks like I might need some more discipline if we (meaning I) will actually hold to the dream if and when it happens.

My Type A personality aside the trip was so much fun. And allowed us to experience autumn in the best ways possible. 

We decided to push on through making it to Cody and Brenda’s just in time for dinner and since our rental accommodations weren’t until Tuesday we spent the night at their house. And the fun continued the rest of the week: 

Lunch at Smith Rock

Pumpkin Patch at DD Farms

Don't be fooled by the pictures... Oskar and Alva were too busy playing with trucks to pick out pumpkins

Pumpkin carving, a warm fire and tacos at Cody and Brenda's

An "autumn" walk around Todd Lake

Originally planning to leave on Thursday we opted to stay an additional night to check out some more of Bend and Sun River. Thursday morning I was able to meet up with the sisters Heidi and Tami from Rancho la Puerta.  And we spent the remainder of the day playing chutes and ladders and candy land, making puzzles and sitting by the fire. We also managed to check out the local pump track and walked through downtown Bend before dinner and bed.

Checking out downtown Bend

Consistent with the original plans, we took the scenic route home through Reno and Truckee, staying the night at Ange and Scott’s Friday night and seeing Amber, Todd and Jack on Saturday morning before heading back to San Francisco.

10 years in the making

10 years ago a co-worker told me about her magical trip to Rancho La Puerta and I knew I had to go. Weddings, new jobs, babies, new jobs, more babies and then a pandemic postponed those desires until this past week. And it was everything.

After so much anticipation and build up (it had been 10 years) I was afraid it wasn’t going to happen, even with a reservation secured, even with flights booked, even after getting my passport emergency resolved and even on the bus across the border.  And yet, we, Erin and I, officially made it to the Ranch for a weeklong vacation of rest, relaxation, meditation, exercise, healthy eating and so much more. There are no words to explain the experience other than I am ready to go back every year and have already booked our trip for next year.

Just a quick background: the Ranch is a 4,000+ acre resort with everything one could hope for in a getaway.  Beautiful yet rustic accommodations, lush landscaping, exercise classes, art classes, cooking classes, wellness classes, an amazing spa, everything. 

With so much to do each and every day, as highlighted in the weekly schedule, we wanted to make the most of the experience.  And yet, we also wanted to not stress about anything.  Going against every fiber in our Type A bodies Erin and I attempted to not overschedule ourselves, and through the process we were able to balance it all.

We hiked, played tennis, stretched, practiced yoga, revisited Pilates, and learned salsa.

We tried something new every day including Feldenkrais, Gyrokinesis, aqua board (which I lasted only 10 minutes on before getting motion sick), sound healing (which gave Erin and I both a migraine), walked the Labyrinth, and massaged our feet on the reflexology path. 

We also hiked to their organic farm, learned about birds during a morning bird walk (we also learned what two animals we would not want to come back as in our second life: a female duck and Cochineal, the insect that makes red dye no. 4) and I took part in a writing workshop.

We enjoyed spa treatments galore, running the gamut from the traditional massages, facials, body scrubs and a hand/foot massage to the unusual and crazy such as the scalp treatment (just really aggressive brushing) and a chocolate wrap (where we were scrubbed with honey and sugar, then painted in chocolate and wrapped in a foil blanket, not un-similar to a “bump on a log” banana and chocolate dessert typically enjoyed while camping).

We spent mornings with coffee in our hacienda and afternoons reading books on our private patio. We ate amazing pescatarian meals in spa size portions (not feeling hungry or unsatisfied) and partook in more than a few bottles of wine at the wine bar.

And true to form, our favorite moment was one not included in their formal schedule.  With a bottle of wine, wine glasses and a few snacks we hiked up the mountain to Alex’s Oak on Thursday night, our last night at “camp”, for sunset with our new bffs, the sister duo of Heidi and Tami from Oregon.

It was amazing.  And the best part was meeting all of the amazing, kind people who were there as well: the multiple mother daughter combos, the sisters from Oregon, the solo ladies and groups of 8+ women, our fellow first timers, and those who have been coming there since the 80s and have since shared the experience with everyone they know.

Next year is already booked for anyone who would like to join!

Goodbye Old Friends

I made the mistake of dating and then marrying a man who loves to hike. Which means I am now someone who hikes. To be fair I did enjoy my fair share of hikes growing up (Yosemite Falls, Mt Dana and Lassen to say a few) but while Martin’s heart lies in the mountains mine is definitely on the beaches of Hawaii. 

Eager to dress the part and prove I could be a “hiker” in our early days of dating, I went out and bought a pair of hiking boots, pants, and poles. The hiking poles were used once and then left at the in-laws house never to be seen again. And this past week after 10+ years I had to say goodbye to the boots. They officially gave up on me.

On our first morning at Rancho La Puerta Erin and I woke up early to join the 4.5 mile morning mountain hike. About 1 mile in and half way up the hill my right boot felt a little odd. I looked down to see the tread of my right boot flapping up and down with each step like a ventriloquist’s dummy. The rubber was separating from the boot. With more than 2.5 miles to go (already factoring in the early turn off) I needed a solution.

Unfortunately no one had duct tape (or any sort of supplies) but Erin did have a ponytail holder that I could wrap around the toe, so that would have to work. And it did for a while until it fell off and the flapping started again. Using my MacGyver-like skills I replaced the lost pony tail holder with my cloth face mask making a diaper/chin strap contraption that thankfully lasted the rest of the hike and all the way to the concierge for duct tape.

At breakfast everyone seemed to know about my blowout and, less than 12 hours into my stay, I had made a name for myself.

Like all lifelong partners, the left boot tread gave out two days later resulting in another sacrificed face mask and finally admitting it was time to say goodbye.

We had a good run and made a lot of memories.

Our first hut hike in Switzerland (2009)

Our "Honeymoon" in the Dolomites (2013)

The W Trail in Patagonia (2015)

The Last Hurrah (2021)

Enough

Along with the many other activities and classes offered at Rancho la Puerta, I took the opportunity to attend a writing workshop with poet Myra Cohen. A New Yorker through and through, Myra has established a non-profit organization that brings writers into classrooms and the community to teach poetry.

Thinking back to Martin’s comment about writing being my hobby and anticipating the upcoming release of my book, I thought I should go. I could probably learn a thing or two and it would be interesting to hone my skills.

I definitely learned I am not a poet, but did walk away with a great writing technique that I hope to use in the future. The class opened with Myra giving us a theme, this class it was “What If”. From there we had to write consistently and without stopping for 10 minutes. It didn’t matter if it made sense, if we wrote words, phrases or sentences. The goal was to just write.

From this string of consciousness, we were to then circle words or phrases that jumped out at us and make a poem with it. In 10 minutes.

The process was very cathartic and like all things I didn’t put much thought into it, but I was happy where things landed. Please enjoy my first real poem.

 

Enough

I was warned about the stretch marks and sleepless nights

I was warned about the long days and short years

I was warned about loving your kids so much your heart hurts

 

But nobody warned me about the self-doubt and endless questions

Is that poop normal, should I call the doctor?

Why won’t they sleep?

What can they, what should they, what do they want to do

Am I doing “it”, this whole parenting thing, right

And the constant barrage of what ifs.

 

What if they never learn to swim?

What if they are bullied at school?

What if they are a bully?

What if my kids can’t find joy in the little things?

What if they can’t see how amazing they are?

What if they grow to resent me?

 

What if I mess them up?

What if I am messed up?

What if I made a mess?

What if I made a mess and didn’t clean it up?

 

Can I live with that?

Do I want to live with that?

Should I live with that?

 

I don’t know

I don’t really know anything

Except how to be me

With all of my flaws, failures, tics and fears

And hopefully that is enough

It has to be enough

Because I am enough

And yet… what if I am not.

Not too bad for a ten minute try.

The Mom Profit

I never quite understood why my Dad loved to tell stories about his crazy college days and all of the shenanigans him and his “Animal House” fraternity brothers would get up to. It seemed every time he had a moment of nostalgia, he would start to tell one of his many stories about breaking into a bar, breaking out of a bar, stealing a cop car or allude to the one story he could never tell us.

I never quite understood this habit until this past Friday in San Diego. It was there that Erin, Neff and I caught up on life and reminisced about all of the shenanigans we got up to in college and shortly thereafter. And even more so, how the next generation will never understand how much fun we had despite, and probably because of, not having cell phones, social media and the maturity to know better.

And from these memories and desire to share them not only with our kids (who will surely roll their eyes at us) but also anyone else who wants to understand the simpler time of our unicorn generation of Xennials, we hatched our plan for a podcast. Not the most unique idea we realize but it should be a fun one. We will call it the Mom Profit and instead of making money or donating any money to a non-profit we will take all proceeds and give them to groups of girlfriends who need a vacation from their mom life.

I am buying a microphone and hope to record a few sessions over the winter and at our 20 year reunion in SLO in the spring. Stay tuned!

For reference, Xennials are defined as being born sometime between 1977 and 1983 and can be read about here.