Day 4 - Sisters, Oregon to Oregon City, Oregon - 136 Miles

Today was yet another typical challenging day in the lives of a couple of sometime RVers. Today we got up super early to make sure we didn't repeat yesterday's laggardly start. The coffee was on by 6:00 and we were rolling onto the highway by 8:30. The chores were all done and I even had time to walk the quarter mile (estimate) to the park store to peruse their supplies just in case I found something I never knew I needed.

Initially, we headed west out of Sisters with the goal of catching Hwy 22 off of Hwy 126, which was the road that ran by the camp. Unfortunately, I somehow made the transition from 126 to 22 quite unbeknownst to either of us, and we spent the next hour or so thinking we'd missed our turn. But when we finally caught onto where we actually were on the map, our whole mood lightened considerably.

As we approached Salem and Portland, Oregon, my main goal was to avoid both places in the main, and just travel the two-lanes. Interstate 5 holds no fascination for us, so our intended route around Salem and into the suburbs of Portland was to be Highways 214 and 213. These tiny ribbons of asphalt wander their way north from Highway 22 as if they didn't much care how long it took you to navigate them. But that's exactly the kind of routes for which we search.

Still, we missed the turnoff for Highway 214; never did see a sign for it. But consulting the map we found that turning anywhere after the turnoff to a town known as "Sublimity" would take us to our intended destination. We would just have to do a tad more wandering. I'll tell you that if you've always driven Interstate 5 north into Portland, you might want to slow down a bit and give 214/213 a tumble. You won't see any Walmarts, and you certainly won't see any glitz, but you will see miles of grape vineyards, horse pastures, quaint farm houses, and the like. We recommend it.

The best thing that happened to us whilst we wandered hither and yon on Highway 214 is we ran across a quite unexpected architectural gem. If you know anything about Frank Lloyd Wright, you know he is perhaps America's most famous architect. While everyone else was turning out the usual Victorian gingerbread or Craftsman bungalows, Frank was pioneering something called the "Prairie Design." This design is said to have revolutionized modern housing.

Of course Frank did much more. To quote Wiki, "Frank Lloyd Wright was an American architect, interior designer, writer and educator, who designed more than 1,000 structures, 532 of which were completed. Wright believed in designing structures that were in harmony with humanity and its environment, a philosophy he called organic architecture. This philosophy was best exemplified by [a house he designed called] Fallingwater, which has been called "the best all-time work of American architecture." His creative period spanned more than 70 years."

Personally, I've never been a big fan of Frank's work, though we have visited Fallingwater in Pennsylvania and been totally enthralled and charmed. But what we ran across today was the State of Oregon's ONE AND ONLY example of Wright Architecture. Yes, unbelievably, as we motored down this tiny Oregonian rural two-lane we came upon the Wright project known as the "Gordon House."

The Gordon House was designed for a comfortably-off couple who owned 550 acres along the Willamette River south of Portland. The couple had done well enough in their farming efforts to, at one point, decide that they could afford to have the esteemed Frank Lloyd Wright design a new house for them. They didn't want the traditional Victorian farmhouse, they wanted a new design in the "modern" style of the then 1950s. It wasn't easy to pull off. In order to persuade Frank to take on the project they had to travel to his then home in Arizona, and talk to him personally.

But persuade him they did, and it wasn't long before Frank produced plans that seemed to be vaguely reminiscent of a house that Frank designed at the behest of Life Magazine in the late 1930s. Frank loved lots of glass, horizontal lines, and, above all, totally utilitarian form. The Gordons got just what they wanted, and once they had received the plans and an estimate from Frank that it would cost $24,000 to build, they put the project out to bid.

And that's when the Gordons ran into trouble. One estimate came back at $56,000 and another came back as over $100,000! Well, the Gordons could not see their way clear to spend that much money at the time. But by the time the 1960s came along, land was needed for Interstate 5, which subsequently required Oregon to purchase part of the Gordon farm. Well, with that fortuitous bit of financial luck, the Gordons could at last afford to build their dream house.

Around 1964, using the original plans, the Gordons finally began construction on a bit of their farmland that the highway hadn't usurped, though Frank Lloyd Wright was dead by then. The property was located on a knoll on the banks of the Willamette River. Thereafter, the couple lived in the Wright dream home quite happily until 1979 when the husband died. Amazingly, the wife went on to reside in the house until the mid 1990s before being moved into an assisted-living residence. She died at 91, only two weeks after leaving her beloved Wright-designed home.

Here's where the story takes a dark turn. After both the Gordons had passed on, their heirs sold the property and house, by then on the Historic Register, to a California couple who just loved the land beside the Willamette, but harbored no such affection for the forty-year-old house. The couple busily made plans to bulldoze the structure, and would have done so without a second thought were it not for the Frank Lloyd Wright Conservancy organization. The Conservancy brought pressure to bear on the couple who, as it turned out, were not villains after all. They graciously offered to sell the house to the Conservancy for the princely sum of ONE DOLLAR. All the group had to do was MOVE the combination concrete and wooden structure in no more than 90 days.

Incredibly, though the Conservancy only managed to save the top half of the house, plus all the removable features of the bottom half, they did manage to completely disassemble the structure and moved it 26 miles to a similar property and exactly situate it according to Wright's situational directions. They even found a place beside the same Willamette river.

Because much of the basement and first floor was a mono-pour concrete and concrete block pillars, there was no way to save that. But the Conservancy were tireless in their efforts to EXACTLY duplicate the concrete parts at the new location. The result is nearly identical to the original so that all the wooden trim pieces that had been meticulously removed could be put back in their original locations despite the fact that it was a whole new base structure on the first floor!

Anyway, I've probably told you much more than you ever wanted to know about our discovery. But if American architecture makes you salivate as it does us, you might want to try a visit to the Gordon house in its new location. And if you are really energetic there are dozens more still in existence, many of which you can visit.

This evening we, too, are camped right beside the Willamette River, this time in Oregon City. Though the camp is light years away from the posh setting in which we were ensconced last night, the setting is quite pleasant, the sites well spaced in an uncrowded fashion, and the camp hostess, Debbie, especially friendly and helpful.

I almost immediately discovered how helpful Debbie was when I began to set up our camp this afternoon. I had run the rig's front wheels up on the lifts to level us, hooked up the water and electric, and was in the process of extending the awning to shade us from the hot afternoon sun when disaster struck.

I know you're saying, "disaster? Not again!" But yes, it's true. As I was pulling the awning frame away from the side of the rig as I have done countless times, the seemingly solid aluminum fulcrum piece that bolts to the side of the coach took that opportunity to fracture into several largely useless pieces. The awning sagged on that corner and threatened to bring the whole assemblage down.

With a well-practiced cry of anguish, I dashed over and hoisted the aluminum arm back into place and set it atop the fractured fulcrum. I could immediately see that there was NO WAY I was going to be able to salvage the broken part. And, without the part that allows the awning to extend and retract, there was no way I was going to be able to move the rig from its present location.

For many seconds I just stood there and stared at the problem without the slightest idea what to do. At that point camp hostess Debbie, having heard the crunching sound of the crucial part disintegrating, came running over to commiserate with me.

"I don't suppose," I said to her, "that you know someone who can be called out to come work on this."

"I really don't," said Debbie. "But park rules forbid having tradesmen here working on the RVs anyway. Sorry!"

"Any ideas?" I said.

I can give you a phone number for an RV supplier in town," she said.

And THAT turned out to be my salvation. I called Debbie's RV guy, who said he couldn't help me. But he in turn provided me with two more phone numbers, one of which connected me with an extremely helpful chap named Lonnie. After I threw myself on Lonnie's mercy, he not only rummaged through the supplies of the RV dealer where he worked, but he delivered a likely part to me at the camp. When I tried to pay him, he requested that I return to the dealer with him and purchase it there, after which he promised to bring me right back.

And that's exactly what happened. The part Lonnie provided was not an exact match for the old part, but was, in fact, a much improved version, AND had bolt holes exactly like the old part which allowed me to bolt it right on. In mere minutes I had repaired the break, remounted the aluminum awning arm, and had extended the awning successfully. Even better, the part was inexpensive and Lonnie didn't charge me a farthing for the taxi service. I did slip him a twenty for his trouble when the boss wasn't looking, and we parted best of buddies.

And that's it for today's adventures. Tomorrow we're headed for the Oregon Trail Museum which, they tell me, is just a stone's thrown from our camp site. So until then, I wish you exciting destinations and memorable travels from the Davises, the Happy Wanderers.