We hadn’t seen much of the downtown area of Portland on our first foray, so Thursday was devoted to divining the local public transit system and getting around without the scoot. I have to say, Portland’s public and alternative transit is second to none. Everything from bike paths to aerial gondolas. Actually, those were the only two we didn’t use. First up was the bus system. There’s a stop right outside our rv park. They only run every half hour, so weren’t we smug when we walked the hundred feet down the road and, low and behold, around the bend came the bus. This one was headed away from the city, towards the suburb of Gresham, but that’s where the nearest stop was for the electric commuter trains, like above-ground subways, called the “Max.”
This stop was the third from the eastern end of the line, so when the 10:15 came back towards Portland to pick us up, there were very few passengers. The cars are quiet, clean, and with no graffiti scrawled on the windows. Gosh, a civilized community. Don’t I look like the epitome of a geezer?
This scene, by the way, was not to be for long, as the train steadily filled up on the way downtown. And the ride home, when we boarded downtown at 4:30, became sardine city in no time and stayed that way almost out to Gresham. We were lucky to have seats.
Once downtown, we made a beeline to the famed Powell’s Bookstore, a Portland landmark. The place occupies an entire city block. Not just along one street. The whole block within four streets square. This is one of several entrances.
The inside is a maze of split level rooms, color coded for easy navigation. Well, somewhat easy. Now, I swear I was only there to see this icon, but jeeez, they have EVERYTHING. And best of all, they stock used copies next to new versions. So, I thought I would just peruse the mystery section for a moment. Yikes. I was snared. Unread volumes from a host of favorite authors. What’s a guy supposed to do?
Believe me, I could have walked out of there with a wheelbarrow load, but I settled for “just” five. They might not last through Washington. We just might have to make another stopover in Portland on the way home.
That wouldn’t be too hard. I think of Portland as San Francisco without the hassles. Smaller hills, easier to get around, and the same neat neighborhoods of restaurants, independent stores, and, well, brewpubs. Food channel alert! We’re at it again. The nice lady at the Powell’s check-out gave us directions to the Deschutes Brewery for, natch, a liquid lunch. Nirvana.
I think it would be hard to get a bad meal in Portland, and the pubs are no laggards. Loni went for a giant Reuben (which, despite both our efforts, partially went into a take-out box), while I opted for the hops-infused (this IS a brewery, after all) falafel platter, with brined olives and chopped veggies. This went great with a seasonal “Hop Wild” for me and another IPA for Loni. Just eatin’ our way through the NW.
After that we couldn’t walk very far, so we used our day pass to board the trolley that cruises around various of the city’s core neighborhoods. Like the Max, they are clean, mostly quiet, and comfortable. I say “mostly” because some of the tracks turns are a little tight, and there’s a bit of squealing and groaning as the cars navigate the bends.
The trolley is highly recommended for getting a feel for the downtown area. One area it passes is an upscale waterfront condo area at the south end of the city that is at the foot of a large hill. There aren’t any direct streets from bottom to top. At the top are four local hospitals, all together. Connecting the two areas is an aerial tramway, probably used most by upscale docs “commuting” to their jobs. But you gotta admit, this is a complete transit system!
After we did the circuit, we prowled around on foot, taking in “The Old Church,”
the unfortunately named but very pretty “Transit Mall,” which runs for about eight blocks,
and the unusual building techniques. Portland. You gotta love it! We did.
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