Get Bend(t) (Oregon 4)

Today started bright and early with an alarm (we know! 😭) at 6 so we could be our best selves and beat the crowds to Terwilliger. It took some carousing to talk Stuart out from under the warm covers but we were packed up and on our way by 7. 

Terwilliger was a quick little 20 min tour back the way we'd come, and while the parking lot wasn't empty, it was still satisfyingly sparse. The hot springs are nestled at the head of a ravine off of Cougar Resivoir, a short 15 min walk up a fire-wracked trail from where we parked Wendel. We were actually pretty lucky to be able to go at all as they only reopened in July after being ravaged by the Eagle Creek fire in 2016.

We have only a photo of the trailhead for you avid readers, as the springs are "clothing optional", and for the most part, people seems to have chosen 'no'. We figured that photos in such a place would be a bit non-grata. Instead, we'll paint you a mental picture:

A series of four natural, descending pools of bare rock sit nestled among light human habitation; a pavilion strewn with pants, shoes, and backpacks, overlarge stairs descending down the ravine, and periodic wooden balconies to sit above and back from the water. At the head of the downward trickle, in the highest and hottest pool, sits a lone hippie, bedraggled dreadlocks cascading like ropes over his lean form. A gallon jug of water sits at his left hand, the butt end of a joint in his right. He presides without pretense, his nakedness obvious but forgotten. The next pool is filled to bursting with University students, flaunting their youth with luxurient curves outstretched. Their acetate glasses and paired shoulder tattoos accentuate their acidic diatribes on the patriarchy. Their nakedness radiates from them like a challenge, daunted but daring. The third pool contains middle-aged women, overweight and laughing uproariously. It's impossible to tell whether they're drinking kombucha or beer from their Smart Water bottles. They've completely forgotten their pierced nipples and stretch marks, their nakedness purely natural and unassuming. Within the final and most temperate pool an old local holds court, telling tourists about the area, the history of the springs, the fire and the rebuilding. He gets animated and speaks smilingly of his wife, who would be there with him but for her recent surgery. A circle forms around him, their previous shyness laid aside like their swimsuits. A rumble of conversation and trickling water fills the air. The sun shines just over the mountains to the east and through the half-burnt treeline.

After cleansing ourselves in Terwilliger (suits on, peer pressure be damned), we retraced yesterday's route to the Blue Pool trailhead. The hike itself was a little crowded, but not oppressive, about 2.5 miles each way to get to the Pool. The trail ran along or above the banks of a rapidly-running river the whole way, and we stopped frequently just to admire the whitewater. 

The Blue Pool itself was (and I realize I'm overusing the word at this point) spectacular. A wide, half-height waterfall blooms from the black rocks into the most sapphire, crystal clear water sixty feet below the trail. The cliffs we stood on were dauntingly sheer, giving the pool an extra sense of isolation and depth. We sat for a while eating second breakfast and enjoying the view before making the trek back to Wendel.

From there we trundled along to Sisters, a town entirely made up of touristy shop fronts strung out along 2 miles of the main road, exuding charm and welcome. First we had lunch (another sandwich- much to Stu's delight) from a smokehouse/butcher doing brisk business over deli counters stuffed to bursting with housemade jerky, 2 inch steaks, extravagantly flavored cheeses, and experimental sausages. 

Stu wound-up with a tri tip sandwich that had become gloriously one with the melted provalone, warm crispy baugette, and a vinegary barbeque while I enjoyed a smoked turkey laden with finely shaved meat, fresh tomato, and some lettuce. Afterwards, I went into almost every store while Stu followed behind migrating from boutique lounge chairs to cafe-front tables but only found a small pair of funky earrings before moving on to our next stop-Bend. 

Bend is beyond cool, with bike lanes stretching along beside the highways, a measurable breweries per capita, and tons of cool clothing and gift shops sprinkled along the main downtown thoroughfare. I also went into a bunch of these, and was much more successful, picking up a few shirts, some postcards, and some stickers (I'm still me!) before we settled at Deschutes Brewery for some brews and to wile away the rest of the time before dinner. Since I was driving (yay! Finally!!) Stu was in charge of navigation and a loose plan. Despite much complaining, he came up with a super hip place in an up and coming part of town called Spork. I made sure we could have as many untensils as we wanted before agreeing. 

Spork is counter-serve with a blend of Thai, Indian, Mexican, and hipster; the first place I have ever seen Google formally list as 'eclectic'. The food was eye-roll/expressive eyebrows/funny grunts good, starting with a Hibiscus-Cinnamom Augua Fresca for me and some funny cocktail named Coco Tranquilo for Stu. Then there was the Elote street corn.

 Good God, the street corn. Piled high with onion, cilantro, paprika/cayenne, and cotija it was the last photo I managed to take before we plunged in. The entree was a shared bowl of spicy pork noodles with pork shoulder and some carmelized pork cheek mixed into some gloriously sauced, spicy and tangy rice noodles topped with peanuts, bean sprouts, more cilantro, and some unidentifiable spices. As we scarfed, the line just continued to grow. We understood, and any wait would have been worth it.

After dinner we reunited with Wendel and reluctantly left Bend behind to find a camp site for the night. Since Stu was in charge of logistics, we ended up hunting for this very cool little spot surrounded by a bend (hah!) In the river called Bull Bend. It did feel pretty intense getting there-probably the closet thing to four wheeling we would dare in Wendel but the site was worth it and as we pulled in, we were treated to a truly magical suset over the river.

 For the last act of the evening we popped some jiffy pop on the stove, and snacked on it and some peanut M&Ms while listening to our audiobook. It's really starting to get good! 

Good night from Bull Bend.

Stu and Chelsea