Worst Getaway Ever


In October Meg and I discussed how to spend the few vacation days I had remaining. She wanted to go on an overnight trip somewhere nearby. Without kids. Meg found a family in the neighborhood, who also have three boys that line up in age very well with ours, who was willing--perhaps even eager--to take them for two days. We set a date in mid-December after school let out, and all we had to do now was decide upon a destination.

Sacramento popped up first on Meg's wishlist. Why? Because we could fly there for free. That's not a good reason to go somewhere, but I was willing. Astoria (northern Oregon coast) was the next place she suggested, but that idea failed to gain any traction. I was thinking maybe Tacoma (baby sister Megan represent!); they have some nice museums and such downtown, and we'd never been there before. But before I floated that idea she found a deal for a night's stay at Skamania Lodge, and that solidified our plans.

The weekend leading up to our trip, Edward came down with a cold and fever. He didn't want to miss going to his friend's house, so he promised to stay in bed and rest. He followed through and, when I returned home from work Monday evening, he was back to his normal, happy self. But I also discovered Meg lying on the coach, cuddling with Ian, and Aaron on the other couch. All three sick. I felt the bug creeping up inside me, too, but we were past the point of no return. Maybe a good night's rest would cure all?

We woke up Tuesday morning to huge flakes of snow falling all around. Aaron and I looked and felt miserable, while Ed, Ian, and Meg appeared to be fine. By the time we packed our things and loaded the car to leave, the snow had stopped falling (not that it mattered, since nothing stuck to the landscape--although I'm sure they would have cancelled school if it wasn't already Christmas break). We dropped the kids off at their friends' house, ran a few errands in the neighborhood (me sitting in the car, trying to keep the feverish chills away), and then drove east toward the lodge.

All I could do was sit by the fire
We stopped at the Edgefield in Troutdale for lunch. As soon as I got out of the van, I started shaking uncontrollably. My body did not appreciate how poorly I was treating it. Meg wanted to explore all around the complex, but I pleaded to just find the restaurant so I could sit down and feel warmth again. But entering the pub didn't help. I remarked how cold it was and Meg flat-out denied it. I was trying to be a good sport and not ruin the event for Meg. She reprimanded me for not taking my pain medication sooner and retreated for the car, leaving me alone in the pub with the waitress (it was still too early for any kind of lunch crowd). Soup was the only thing I could fathom eating, and fortunately they were serving a type that sounded good. After some drugs and warm soup, I felt a little better, but I was still looking forward to getting to the lodge.

The view from our 4th floor room
It seems like if it is snowing in Portland, it is really storming in the Gorge (our destination). I had checked some road cams before we left, and they showed everything clear and passable. Our journey there proved nothing different. It was only an hour drive from our house, but Skamania felt like a whole different planet. Remote, quiet, and devoid of people, as demonstrated by only a handful of cars parked in the lot. As soon as Meg checked us in (they let us in several hours early--hallelujah), we took the elevator to the fourth and top floor, walked down the hall a ways (Meg will never let a hotel put us by the elevators again--see here), and opened the door to our nice room. I took my shoes off, turned on the fireplace, pulled up a chair, and tried to leave the world of consciousness, for all it was giving me was pain. I didn't really succeed, but Meg appeared to be having fun; she came-and-left a few times: swimming and hot-tubbing, puzzle-building in the library, getting take-out food from somewhere in the small, nearby town of Stevenson. I had asked for a vanilla milkshake for dinner--my appetite was very weak, and even more pickier than usual. She came back with a pint of Ben and Jerry's. That's a lot of ice cream and, with no freezer in our room, I ate the whole thing. Please remind me never to eat that much ice cream in one sitting ever again. We watched some re-runs on tv and on my laptop before turning in somewhat early for a vacation. Not that I would sleep very well (and have not slept for more than a couple of hours consecutively during this illness), but I didn't feel up to doing anything else.

Welcome, Mr. Snow Storm
We didn't get out of bed until 10:00 the next morning. Our bed was facing the window, which looked out over the Columbia River, not that we could tell anymore. Even without my glasses I could tell what was happening: we were getting snowed on again. The snow was sticking here, and it was falling with a fierce attitude. So we packed up our things quickly, survived a brief flooding of the toilet, and departed for home. The snow was falling so hard that as I made my way around the van brushing of the snow, it quickly replaced what I had just wiped away. I had already seen a few cars drive away without any issues, so I wasn't too worried about getting stuck (and we brought our chains). I was just disappointed that we weren't able to take advantage of the abounding opportunities at the lodge. It was kind of nice to stand in the middle of the snow storm--a snow-blanketed earth makes everything sound and look better--but then I got wet and cold and wondered where my wife was (stuck in the check-out line).

Multnomah Falls
The Internet said that as soon as we reached Multnomah Falls--about 10 miles away--the snow would relent. And it did. It was like a Greek god had drawn an imaginary line in the gorge: east side, you get snow; west side, you get rain or nothing. Since we were safely out of the weather mess, Meg proposed we stop at Multnomah Falls. That was really the last thing I wanted, but I think she was taking my lack-of-participation personally, so I agreed. Besides, how many opportunities would I have to photograph a Oregon's most famous waterfall in the midst of light snowfall (although I'm not much of a landscape photographer, I'm learning). Even though we had left the Skamania snowstorm behind, it felt colder here, probably because the rain/snow was pretty wet. I trudged along the path to the normal viewing point, composed a few shots, and retreated to the Multnomah Falls Lodge for a late breakfast. My appetite was very slowly returning, and I was able to eat some french toast--the smallest dish on the menu. Meg admitted to having longed to eat at the lodge for several years but, unfortunately, the food didn't live up to her imagined hype. The building was very beautiful though, and it was nice to eat by the warmth of the crackling fireplace.

Queen of the Falls
And that marked the end of our journey. Upon reaching home, I unpacked my stuff, then climbed into bed and tried to rest. My illness has stuck with me for several days after our trip--definitely the worst illness in some time for me. The funny thing is that Meg, after picking up and bring the kids home, climbed into bed next to me, as she was feeling ill again. Somehow, I think, she tricked her body into feeling better during the trip and, once that was over, her body returned to its natural state. Or she was just really good at faking how healthy she was on the trip.

While our trip surely wasn't too bad, it was the worst we have ever experienced. What about you? What vacations have been ruined for you?

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