Olympic National Park to Olympia to Portland
After driving late into the night out of Olympic National Park, we woke up in Olympia, the capital of Washington, tucked into a soft bed at the Hilton Garden Inn. (Pro tip: sign up for Hilton Honors—you’ll get preferred rates, bonus points, and, at this one, a restaurant and bar right downstairs.)
Alan worked his usual food-scouting magic and found us a gem on the harbor: Row (rowolywa.com, 210 State Avenue NW). We sat outside with Kodi, the water glinting beyond the patio lights, and ended up chatting with Aly (@alybutterflydesigns), who handed me a handmade mushroom keychain—an unexpected keepsake. The wild salmon, perfectly seared and laid over crisp green beans, was hands-down the best I’ve ever tasted. It was so good we decided to slow down and stay another night.
The next evening we tried Anthony’s Hearthfire Grill (anthonys.com), another waterfront spot where the sunset turned the harbor gold and the vibe matched the view—easy, elegant, and content to linger.
Heading south the following morning, we stretched our legs at Tumwater Falls Park, where berry bushes framed the churning river and the air smelled faintly of rain and sugar. Then it was on to Beaverton, just outside Portland—a clean, tech-savvy suburb where we checked into another Hilton Garden Inn.
Dinner that night was at DiCarli’s (dicarlirestaurant.com), a sleek Italian bistro tucked into an unassuming strip mall. The meatballs were tender, the pasta impossibly fresh, and the bill higher than planned—but sometimes, downtime is worth the splurge.
I was gearing up for a big hike up Mount Hood the next day, but Alan—ever the voice of reason—reminded me of Bessie’s cracked windshield. Better to fix it now than risk a blowout halfway up a mountain road. Mt. Hood would have to wait, but those DiCarli meatballs softened the blow.
Portland, Oregon
Portland is six different enclaves all trying to out-quirk each other. Downtown was a bit of a challenge—between the large unhoused population and limited parking for our oversized van, we couldn’t see it all, but we gave it our best shot.
We kicked off the morning in the Pearl District at Blue Star Donuts (bluestardonuts.com): two black coffees, a maple-glazed, a classic glazed, and an apple fritter roughly the size of Kodi’s head. Fueled by sugar, we walked to Powell’s City of Books (powells.com). I’m a book nerd, so I asked the clerk about publishing. No secret sauce there yet—but I left grinning when she said my “travelogue” could live just as easily in Americana or National Parks as in Travel Writing.
From there, we wandered through Old Town Chinatown, weaving between food trucks and lantern-lined streets, before slowing the pace at the Lan Su Chinese Garden (lansugarden.org). Serene paths, iced jasmine tea, koi drifting beneath wooden bridges—it felt like a deep breath in city form.
Keeping the garden theme, we drove up into Washington Park to see the Portland Japanese Garden (japanesegarden.org). It was stunning—multi-tiered, tranquil—but no dogs allowed, so Kodi cast her veto. The International Rose Test Garden across the street was blooming like mad, but there wasn’t a single space long enough for Bessie. So we climbed higher into the West Hills to Pittock Mansion (pittockmansion.org): manicured lawns, stately stonework, and a sweeping view of the city with Mt. Hood shimmering on the horizon. We capped the day at Council Crest, Portland’s highest point, where Kodi finally got her off-leash romp above the city skyline.
The next morning we swapped city streets for waterfalls—driving through the Columbia River Gorge National Scenic Area, ticking off Multnomah, Bridal Veil, Latourell, and Horsetail Falls. I ambitiously tried to tack on Silver Falls State Park, famous for its Ten Falls Trail. Reality check: I managed two waterfalls, one overlook photo, and called it victory.
Back in town, Bessie needed TLC. The cracked windshield—finally fixed. But then: a diesel leak. Thank God nothing blew up before we reached Mount Hood. Alan and Kodi stayed at “base camp,” the famously eerie Timberline Lodge, while I headed up the mountain.
That climb—absolutely worth it. Mount Hood, a towering stratovolcano, loomed like a legend. I made it past the Palmer Glacier to the Silcox Hut, the farthest you can go without technical gear. At first it was intimidating, but later I caught myself thinking: What else can I do?
We celebrated the day at Trillium Lake, where Mt. Hood reflected perfectly in the still, deep-blue water. Hikers, anglers, kayakers, and paddleboarders filled the shoreline—summer in full swing. After an hour of photo ops, we wound through the Fruit Loop, a 32-mile circuit of orchards, lavender fields, vineyards, and farm stands. It was the perfect wind-down.
Our last Portland stop was REI—ostensibly for protein gels. I walked out instead with a climbing harness and carabiners. I know what you’re thinking... but even as we drove south, I was already dreaming of Half Dome in Yosemite.
