Returning home after a trip, whether long or short, tends to evoke a blend of emotions in the weary traveler. Some of us see home as a place of comfort, some might even describe it as our own personal oasis.

Others, though, consider home to be a place where the obligations of life can wear you down. My wife, Mary Pat, is one of these latter types.

Which is why while I remain at home, tending to our cat, paying bills and in general making sure that the house doesn’t fall completely apart, she is on a three-week excursion to Peru and Ecuador. Included will be treks to Machu Picchu and the Galápagos Islands.

I’m still thinking about our return home last month from Vancouver Island, something I wrote about in my last post – the one in which I described our several-day stay in Victoria and then the small town of Tofino.

We took the afternoon ferry from Nanaimo back to Vancouver, where we spent the night. (I’d mention the hotel, but the people at the check-in desk weren’t particularly friendly or helpful, certainly not by stereotypical Canadian standards, so … .)

Anyway, Mary Pat and I took this opportunity to have dinner at a restaurant that she had read about. The Fish Man Restaurant is located just a short drive from where we were staying, so it didn’t take us long to get there. But finding a parking place proved to be challenging.

Let me set the scene. The restaurant is in a strip-mall area, just across the street from a larger shopping center. And at first I wanted to park in the center’s expansive lot, but I saw signs that listed a virtual dictionary of limitations, each with a warning that scofflaw’s vehicles would be towed. So I ended up parking in a small area behind the restaurant itself.

We made our reservation with seconds to spare. And, as it turns out, we ended up having one of the best meals ever. Of course, I should have expected as much. In a restaurant full of 70 or more diners, we were the only Caucasians.

The service was fast, and we didn’t mind that the dishes arrived pretty much haphazardly. I love noodles, and the ones that I ordered didn’t disappoint. Mary Pat was equally pleased with her fish.

Early the next morning Mary Pat’s sister, Jean, flew out, leaving her husband Steve to accompany us back to Spokane. But not directly.

Because Mary Pat will do anything to delay the end of a trip, she decided that we should drive over the North Cascades Highway and stay at a place she found online: the Casia Lodge & Ranch. Sitting just southwest of Twisp, the place bills itself as the “Methow Valley’s Luxury Retreat Destination.”

Trouble was … fires. Blazes, which have become a regular summer expectation all over North America, had closed part of the road. So we made the decision to go around, adding hours to our trip, and still make our way to the lodge.

And to say we weren’t disappointed would be an understatement. As semi-regular patrons of the Sagecliffe Resort & Spa, which sits a couple of miles west of George and overlooks the Columbia River, we were expecting something along the lines of that place … which would have been perfectly acceptable.

But Casia is a step up even from Sagecliffe, at least for three adult travelers who were exhausted from driving all the way from Vancouver, B.C. Our rooms were large, comfortable with king size beds, a fireplace and access to the outside where a swimming pool and hot tub beckoned.

We passed on swimming and the chance to go horseback riding, it being early evening. But we did take a pre-dinner walk just to check out the area, which in the cooler air just before sunset felt glorious.

And dinner? Well, we ended up having the whole room to ourselves. And our server, the same guy who had checked us in earlier, was the consummate host, explaining what the specials were, giving us the history of the place and explaining something we had trouble understanding: Why on a Friday night was the place not jumping?

Turns out it was an unusual weekend, with other events taking place in Twisp. Or so went the explanation.

Whatever the truth of that, we accepted it. As we did our good fortune, not to mention the food and wine that followed: a shared portion of the “24 oz. cast iron grilled prime ribeye” for Mary Pat and Steve and “jumbo macaroni braised Berkshire Pork ragout.” All washed down with a bottle of red wine that Mary Pat ordered (a pinot noir, I think, not being anything close to an expert).

We left the next morning, following a full breakfast – included in our bill, and featuring great baked goods and, most important, good coffee.

On the way home, we stopped by Grand Coulee Dam both to visit the museum and take some photos, before dropping down to Highway 2 for the last leg back to Spokane.

At which point I, of course, sighed with relief. But Mary Pat? She began almost at once to fret about all she had to do to get ready for her Peru-Ecuador adventure.

As should be clear by now, travelers come bearing all different moods and motivations. And I write this, sitting alone in my home office, my cat fed and asleep in an adjoining room, I feel secure – at least for the moment – in the thought that my own next adventure is still months away.

But it’s coming.

---

---