When I ask people about Bend, Oregon, there invariably follows a pause and then a misty reverie overtakes them. “You have to go.” “I love Bend.” “Bend is amazing” or just “Oh, Bend.” But when closely questioned, people cannot articulate what is so fantastic. Oh yes, there are mumblings about Mt. Bachelor or the number of brewhouses.
George and I would have to experience Bend ourselves.
In March we venture there. The house we stay in is right in town. It is two bedrooms, with a large kitchen, and cozy living room fireplace. High beds, with pillow tops, lovely fresh sheets. The bathroom knows nothing of the biting cold of winter —because it had been remodeled and features a radiant-heated floor. I tell George that I am ruined for life. The house could easily be mine without all my junk. Yet the house itself is only the initial enchantment.
A hike to Dillon Falls along the Deschutes River was lovely. We did this trail mainly because of the Gadling’s travel site article (that features a great YouTube of the falls).
A morning meal at Chow ruined me for any other breakfast on the planet. The chefs like you to be creative. The menu said so. I had an omelet without the eggs. It was no problem.
And they make their own salsas, bottle them up pretty and put them on your table. Who does that?
They hooked us up the next day. The skiing was absolutely perfect for me, a newbie skier. The beginner’s hill is comfortingly called Marshmallow. And a total blast.