Front Porch: Road trip celebrates milestone

A couple weeks ago, Derek and I took our 25th wedding anniversary celebration on the road and journeyed to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland, Ore. Our official anniversary was in March, but we’ve been celebrating ever since.

After stocking up on red licorice and beef jerky, we programmed Lee (my GPS) and hit the Oregon Trail via Starbucks on North Hamilton.

Five minutes into our 10-hour drive, I posted this Facebook status update: “We are still married.”

Ten hours in a small sedan followed by five days of constant togetherness can test any relationship, but we’ve had 25 years to work out the kinks. We did, however, hit a rocky patch when Derek violated the sacred Driver-Controls-the- Radio-Law and listened to a solid hour of Rush Limbaugh while I was at the wheel.

When he took over the driving at Biggs, Ore., I popped in a mellow Norah Jones CD, while Derek gritted his teeth, so it all evened out.

We chose to take the road less traveled and followed Highway 97 through beautiful central Oregon. The route meanders through farmland and forests and is sprinkled with plentiful scenic turnouts. As evening approached, Derek spotted a gorgeous waterfall, and we stopped to stretch our legs and take pictures. Our respite came to an abrupt end when a swarm of mosquitoes smelled fresh blood and enveloped us. I don’t know the official name of that body of water, but for us it will always be Mosquito Falls.

Our three days in Ashland were magical. While the Oregon Shakespeare Festival drew us, the town captivated us. Between plays we explored the shops and restaurants and hiked through Lithia Park, located in the heart of downtown Ashland.

Though the hotel had a wake-up service, it didn’t include cats clambering across our bed or kids clamoring for food. I got used to it rather quickly.

I also grew accustomed to eating breakfast every day, which I never do at home. But I learned the most important meal of the day is not without peril – especially when you arrive at the hotel’s breakfast buffet just before it closes. I discovered this after being mauled by the Ancient Biscuit Grabber. A grandmotherly type woman dropped crumbs down my cleavage while reaching over my shoulder in her haste to grab the last biscuit.

Lunch at the Black Sheep Pub proved far less dangerous. Nothing gets you in the mood for Shakespeare like bangers and mash and a pint of Guinness.

However, before Shakespeare came Moliere. The company’s production of the “Imaginary Invalid,” with the surprising addition of music and costumes from the 1960s, ended up being our favorite performance.

We also enjoyed the “Pirates of Penzance” at the outdoor Elizabethan theater, and on our last evening we took in “Love’s Labour’s Lost.”

While waiting for the play to begin, Derek asked if it was a comedy or tragedy. I told him it’s about some guys who vow to give up girls in favor of scholarly pursuits. “Ah, you mean it’s a farce with tragic results,” he replied.

The real tragedy was that our time in Ashland had come to an end. However, the delights of a Walla Walla wine tour beckoned, so we hit the open road. Once again, we planned to take our time, it’s just that we had no idea how much time we’d eventually take.

Our 25 years of matrimony proves that we’re not sprinters, but extenuating circumstances turned this phase of our journey into a marathon that stretched our endurance to the breaking point.

One of those circumstances resulted in a serious disagreement. Not between Derek and me, but between Derek and Lee. Following Spokesman-Review staffer Meghann Cuniff’s advice, we decided to stop for lunch at Cafe Yumm in Eugene. We’d programmed the GPS to take us to the nearest Cafe Yumm, but when we arrived at the destination, there was no restaurant in sight. Turns out Lee directed us to the company’s corporate headquarters.

Things got heated when I reprogrammed Lee and he told Derek to drive through a series of alleys. However, once we were enjoying our tasty bowls of rice and beans, Derek decided to give our GPS another chance. I’m sure his willingness to trust Lee was in no way influenced by the fact that we didn’t have a map.

Unfortunately, that detour combined with a stop for ice cream in Rice Hill put us on Interstate 5, just outside of Portland at 5 p.m. on a Friday. The interstate resembled a massive parking lot. That’s where Lee redeemed himself by warning us of the delays and offering an alternate route.

Even so, when darkness fell we were still miles from Walla Walla. Then the unthinkable happened – we ran out of licorice.

I won’t lie, readers, it was pretty grim for the rest of the journey. It gave us a taste of the suffering our pioneer forbears endured in order to settle the West. However, at 10:30 we arrived at our air-conditioned hotel room and collapsed on our king-size bed. By the following morning we’d recovered enough to enjoy the wine tour.

Father’s Day dawned and as we embarked on our homeward stretch, I thought of how our anniversary trip resembles our marriage in many ways. The past 25 years have included miles of breathtaking beauty, detours that distressed us, some drama, lots of comedy, rough spots and rest stops. But we’ve traveled every mile together and best of all – the road has always led us home.