We had a room right over Puget Sound in downtown Seattle. Our window was open to the sounds and scents of Elliott Bay, the Port of Seattle. There was a view of Mt. Rainier in one direction and-if it had been clear-the Olympic Peninsula in the other.
The night before we had been in Port Townsend on the Olympic Peninsula. Getting a room there at the Tides Inn was out-the motel where Debra Winger and Richard Gere did their most memorable scene in ”An Officer and a Gentleman” was full, as usual. A new place, the Harborside Inn, charged $101.33, continental breakfast included-our trip`s first $100+ motel.
There`s something about returning to one`s birthplace, some urgent pull that intensifies with age. I hadn`t been in Seattle for 29 years and had never been in Port Townsend, a namesake town on the Olympic Peninsula north of Gig Harbor, where we had lived during my pre-school years.
Seattle was the biggest city on our travels this summer. And its convention business was in full swing with the International Optimists making us temporary pessimists as we sought a place to stay downtown near Pike Street Market. Some of the streets in that area are steeper than those in San Francisco. Dealing with hill-holding stops and the one-way grid took us awhile before finding a way to reach the harbor-access street under Alaskan Way.
We spotted the Edgewater and chose it because of its view, free parking, the streetcar stop . . . and the fact that it had a room available for two nights. The water-view rate was $135 a night and $19.04 ”sales tax” was added to that. (After two nights our checkout tab was $409.86, including a dinner and two nightcap visits to the lounge.)
The four-story Edgewater once housed the Beatles and Elvis and allowed guests to fish from their rooms. The hotel`s cooks would prepare the catch. But more fish were caught than were consumed and the housekeeping staff found salmon left in tubs and even in the beds.
Ernie`s, the restaurant at the Edgewater, was every bit as good as all but one salmon dinner I scarfed down on this fish-eating nostalgic journey. (A Hangtown Fry breakfast at Ernie`s also was memorable. It consisted of lightly scrambled eggs, green onions, bacon and six fresh-shucked Olympia oysters.)
Water tour is best
Seattle had changed so much in the three decades we`d been away that we chose to take both the half-day land and half-day water Gray Line tours. The water tour was better. We were taken by bus to a boat in Lake Union and then down (via government locks) to Puget Sound and around to Elliott Bay, with excellent narration all the way.
We ran out of time and low on money in Seattle on our third day, so we picked up Interstate Highway 90, intending to cover the 2,074 miles to Chicago in four days. Hah! It wasn`t I-90`s fault; the driving surface was in pretty fair shape except through Idaho. But there were so many tempting off-interstate attractions that we took six days (and could have used 16) and drove 2,487 miles.
Our first detour, as I-90 climbed into the Cascades, was to see Snoqualmie Falls and perhaps have lunch at Salish Lodge there. (The opening of ”Twin Peaks,” the ABC TV series, displays the spectacular waterfall and lodge.) Lunch was out of the question without a reservation, so we went to Big Edd`s in the village and had the ”Twin Peaks Special” (a double cheese burger with fries) before resuming our push across the state.
We called ahead from Spokane and got a room at the Coeur d`Alene, a resort built on the lake shore in Coeur d`Alene, Idaho. The big news there was the arrival that day of the materials for construction of the world`s first floating golf green. The relocatable green, an island with two bunkers, will be a par 3; golfers who reach the green in the lake will be taken to it by water-taxi golf cart. They say it will be in operation next spring.
The resort tower on the lakeshore has a marina on two sides, served by what is called the longest floating boardwalk in the world. Possible hyperbole aside, our 20-minute boardwalk stroll the following morning was a joy in the clear mountain air. The green lawns on the property are contrasted with thousands of red geraniums, which also bloom in window planters of the creme- colored resort tower.
We were told Coeur d`Alene means ”eye of the awl,” a pointed leather-working tool for making small holes (eyes). Depending on which story-teller you listen to, that was what the indigenous Indians called the French fur traders or vice versa for sharp bartering tactics. Whatever, the local Indians these days are the Coeur d`Alene.
We left Coeur d`Alene after walking the old downtown area-several empty retail stores were evidence of the malling of America; the business action is out by the highway, I-90.
More construction
We ran into more interstate highway work in Idaho-the state we covered the least miles in-than anywhere else during our 19-day, 5,604-mile trip. As a result, we reached Montana in the late morning, having driven less than 80 miles.
A ski complex development just outside Kellogg, Idaho, was testing the
”world`s longest gondola” as we went by. Having viewed the Canadian Rockies from three mountaintops reached by gondolas, we took a pass on this one, which is 3.1 miles in length and rises 3,400 vertical feet in 16 minutes. We set out to drive across half of Montana, beautiful ”Big Sky Country,” our least populated state. It was Texas-like in its distances. And we stopped for the night in Columbus, Mont., after covering 467 miles from Coeur d`Alene.
The next morning, a comment attributed to CBS` Charles Kuralt, who has seen a lot of highways and byways, caused us to take ”a 1/2-hour scenic detour” off I-90. That took 6 1/2 hours and was an experience I`ll never forget . . . or do again.
What Kuralt reportedly said was that ”America`s most beautiful roadway” was the Beartooth Highway in Montana and Wyoming. Think about that. Kuralt has been ”On the Road” for dozens of years. But have you ever seen him behind the wheel?
That ”roadway,” mostly U.S. Highway 212 from Red Lodge, Mont., to Cooke City, Wyo., through Shoshone National Forest, is without a doubt the scariest route I`ve ever driven. With zig-zagging, hairpin and horseshoe turns climbing to more than 9,500 feet, the paved two-lane road has few guard rails or pulloffs over its 68 miles. An unnecessary 25 m.p.h. speed limit is posted. The Beartooth Pass route is open only from mid-May to mid-October and several road-closing, swinging steel gates are in place.
The views are spectacular and we made it to the summit, where snow in the last week of June was still above the roof of our car.
We did not want to go on to Cooke City, a northeast entry point to Yellowstone and an area of major forest fires two years ago. There was no way I was going to backtrack down the climbs I`d white-knuckled up, so I made what may have been a worse decision. We`d take what our map said was a paved road
(Wyoming Highway 296) to Wyoming Highway 120 into Cody, and then U.S. Highways 16 and 14 to connect with I-90 just north of Sheridan.
The beginning of our escape route was paved and passed through the Clarks Fork Yellowstone river valley. Then we began more than 20 miles of unpaved washboard that again climbed another range of mountains. And this time there were no guard rails, no shoulders, no pulloffs. And there was oncoming traffic and open grazing lands.
A final climb
The town of Shell-which should have reminded me to fill our gas tank-was appreciated for the beauty of the Shell Creek Canyon through which began our climb of our final pass in the Big Horn Mountains.
I was nearing the summit when Carol awoke from a nap and noted that the gas gauge registered EMPTY. Without a bounce to the needle. My response, like any good husband`s, was to floorboard it. (If I was going to run out of gas it would be at full speed.)
We crested the summit on fumes and there was a Dinosaur-a Sinclair gas pump-a store, a beer bar and camping supplies. I became a Dino man for the rest of the trip. We filled up and went into the store for refreshments and postcards to remember what we`d come through.
The run from the mountains to the hills-the Black Hills in this case-was comfortably monotonous on I-90. We`d made room reservations in Rapid City, S. D., that morning before beginning our Kuralt-inspired scenic detour. Because it was after 6 p.m., we could not cancel the plastic-guaranteed room, so we drove on and got to our motel at 10, our first after-dark finish. We`d driven 580 miles from Columbus, which is less than 450 miles away via I-90.
The contrast between the super-nice Super 8 Inn in Columbus we`d left in the morning and the super-ripoff Super 8 Lodge in Rapid City that night was more than just money. But how can a chain bill itself as economy lodging and charge $68.03 for a double room? A gas station attendant had an answer: ”This is an expensive town that pays minimum wages; a great place to be an owner.” The next morning we paid a quick visit to Mt. Rushmore, where we had breakfast at a window table. The polite park service summer employees insisted on carrying our trays from the cashier. We`d used senior discounts whenever possible, but this was the first time we felt old.
A drive through the Black Hills, a remarkably well maintained park, took us to Lead and Deadwood, undergoing the biggest gold rush of their history. Gambling fever has caused a leveling of some hillsides for parking lots, new motel construction and a shuttle bus to the historic streets of Deadwood. Storefront after storefront remain as the facade for cheek-by-jowl gambling saloons.
Though limited gambling has been legalized in the area, nothing can be called a casino. Don`t ask why. We opted to have lunch in Lead, which still has an operating gold mine (”America`s oldest”), stores and restaurants, and then resumed our I-90 return to Chicago.
Motels all full
It was after sunset and three motels we tried in Mitchell, S. D., had NO OCCUPANCY signs. No problem, we thought. We`d just continue east on I-90 and drive the 70 miles into Sioux Falls if necessary.
A few miles of seeing heavy traffic coming from the east made me think this wasn`t such a hot idea.
Suddenly there was a small sign that promised ”Best Western: This Exit.” So, I turned off . . . right into a two-lane road with cornfields on each side. No town-ahead sign. No nothing, except a swarm of insects that splattered against the windshield in such numbers that I had to squirt windshield fluid and turn the wipers on.
”Now what?”
”You`re the one who said that on this trip we`d never drive at night,”
the relief driver observed.
”We`ll see where this road leads,” I decided.
About four miles later our road ended as we came to a T. Another sign
(”Best Western 4 blks”) told us which way to turn. Four blocks later we were at the motel in Canistota. It was sold out, too.
”Which direction you folks headin`?” the manager asked.
He began shaking his head sympathetically as soon as he heard ”east.”
”There`s nothing between here and Minnesota. The overflow from Sioux Falls filled us. There are 100 baseball teams there for a tournament and the state Republican convention`s on this weekend.”
It was about 9:30 p.m. We were in the middle of somewhere, but where?
”You can try our hotel; they still had rooms at 9.”
Fine, where is the hotel?
”Just a few blocks that way, downtown.”
He said it with a straight face. So we drove on and found a four-story building across the street from a loudly functioning bar. Teenagers, unable to get service, cruised in cars and four-wheelers along the no-stoplight main street.
One sign on the tallest building in town indicated a ”Cafe” entrance and around the corner another read ”Hotel,” so I went in the hotel door. The lobby had the look of a storefront chapel-between the entry door and the reception desk were fanned-out rows of folding chairs. A sign indicated that an American Cancer Society meeting had been held there.
The place was Grange-hall clean. I went to the reception desk.
The last queen-size bed was gone. Okay. We`d take a room with two beds, if that was available.
Sure said the manager, a man about 35, but it would have to be on the third floor. He nodded to a woman who had joined him for the registration excitement. ”She`ll take you up in the elevator.”
Cheapest room of trip
To pay I needed to cash my last traveler`s check. That caused a scramble for change in the back room. But $67.14 was found, and we`d rented our cheapest room in 18 nights on the road: $32.86.
Now to see that room. Carol came in with a small overnight bag and a look that said, ”We need ice.”
The woman who was to be our elevator operator smiled and went off toward the closed cafe. She brought back a plastic bucket of crushed ice. That would do.
Remember elevator operators who opened doors and moved a handle to make the car go up or down? Her dad or grandfather must have taught her.
After a smooth trip to the third floor, we were escorted to our room at the far end of the hall by the fire exit. Most of the room doors were open, not unlocked. Open, like in a hospital or a college dorm on registration day. Each of the open-door sleeping rooms looked neat and clean as if waiting for the next patient or student. There were Mens and a Ladies rooms, giving us visions of having a ”bathroom down the hall” for the first time since traveling in Europe. But our room had its own toilet and a tub-and-shower bathroom. The air conditioner was set to high cool and did its job. The color TV brought in a good picture. The crushed ice was fine.
Carol dubbed the place the Bates Motel (of ”Psycho” movie fame), and was hesitant to take a shower. I promised to remain on guard while I watched a James Cagney tough-guy classic on TV.
The mystery explained
The leaflet given to me along with my receipt explained where we were. The Ortman Hotel is the primary housing option for the Ortman Clinic next door. The family chiropractic clinic (six of the seven doctors in a publicity photo were Ortmans) began in 1915.
These days most patients arrive Sunday afternoon and leave Friday after five days of ”light manipulation of the entire spine.” That means the very nice, clean, hospital-like hostelry is able to accept guests off the highway on Friday and Saturday nights.
After a good night`s sleep, we had breakfast at the only place in town, the hotel`s cafe, right next to the town beauty parlor. There were women in the hair chairs by 7 a.m., getting ready for Saturday night in Canistota.
A grumpy teen-age girl waited on us. She explained that she`d been called late the night before to come in to work because the hotel had ”lots of unexpected guests.”
We were several tables-full of accidental visitors. And most of us wanted coffee, juice, and day starting food-and directions back to I-90. We got all that for $5 a person, tip included.
The rest of the way home was routine I-90 with a two-night stop in Madison to visit our daughter and friends.
We realized in recounting our never-again vacation that the Bates . . . er, Ortman Hotel was the most interesting place we`d stayed in a trip that took us 5,604 miles by road through seven states and four Canadian provinces.
We took our own advice
We know from phone calls that readers clip and save (and sometimes misplace)
travel articles. Travel staffers do, too.
Five Travel section cover stories this year prompted the choice of destinations on this 5,604-mile auto trip. The dates the color features ran were:
Seattle: April 15.
Montana-Wyoming Beartooth Pass: May 13.
Black Hills: June 17.
Idaho: July 8.
Victoria: July 24.
If you missed any of the above stories, public library files of the Tribune can be read. Or a printout of any one story (without photos or graphics) is available for $10 from the Tribune Retail Store, Dept. V, 435 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill. 60611.
