Eugenious

Because 4-year-old boys think that trains rule (which they do, of course), we looked into an Amtrak trip, one that would take us somewhere new but that we could accomplish in a weekend. I was particularly excited to take the train south, since the tracks first head east, through the snows of Willamette Pass, before turning south to Klamath Falls. So, Klamath Falls it was, a town just north of California on the high side of the Cascades. K Falls grew up as a timber town, a train town; increasingly, it’s becoming a jumping-off point for recreation like bird-watching, hunting, and snow fun. And, as we squinted into the morning sun glinting off the light dusting of snow two Saturdays ago, we also found that Klamath Falls has some pretty good views of Mt. Shasta, already shouldering her own load of snow.

Shasta in the morning

Chris left work a little early on Friday so we could walk out the front door at 3:30 and hop on a city bus. Chris carried a large pack containing his and my clothes, the kids’ warm clothes, and our train food. Sylvan carried a little pack with his clothes, books, notebook, and water bottle. I had a pack in which I could carry Elena which also had room for her clothes and diaper bag. And we had a jogger (Our four-year-old is a bit inconsistent with how far he can walk – two miles today, 20 meters tomorrow.).

Elena and I, after all of us narrowly found some seats on the crowded train (note to self: don’t travel by train the weekend before Thanksgiving), proceeded to walk up and down the aisles for the next hour and a half. After some food, she finally fell asleep on Chris. Sylvan and shared a pair of seats; I tried to doze while Sylvan drove cars around and drew.

I found our hotel, the Cimarron, after looking through some reviews on-line. The Best Western Olympic Inn gets great reviews, but it’s twice as expensive. The Cimarron had earned its respectable reviews: it was clean, with cushy duvets, 518 pillows, continental breakfast with cook-your-own waffles, and a very nice staff. I’d stay there again. The kids fell into bed on Friday night and slept hard, since it was 11 p.m. (after a few tears from Sylvan, who told us that he wants to live at the Cimarron).

After breakfast, where Chris finally turned the volume way down on the TV after all the other guests had gone (Do we wonder why ADD is prevalent? Focus!), we bundled up and stepped into the cold, sunny morning, tracking through less than an inch of fresh snow. Just behind the motel, we found the OC&E Woods Line State Trail, a walking and biking trail on an old rail bed that’s paved for its first seven miles, then gravel as it heads 88 miles to the town of Bly and north to the Nature Conservancy’s Sycan Marsh (cross-country ski trip, anyone?). We took it west, where we found a newly-paved section heading toward downtown – and from which we looked south and saw Shasta. We eventually had to cross a field, which many others had done, to get back on the road network to find the Children’s Museum of Klamath Falls.

I don't know what this building really was. It's right on the edge of town.

I don't wanna ride! I don't wanna walk! No!

We were a little early arriving at the Museum, so we enjoyed the hand-painted planets on the outside walls; Sylvan decided he would just keep circling the building until it opened (early, for us, it turned out). The parking lot on the building’s north side was a skating rink; Sylvan only went down once, amid laughter, luckily. This Museum is a gem, a little building that houses: a beautiful train set; the cockpit of a real plane, whose windshield opens to the outside; a wooden train set; a firetruck with a siren, radio, and lights; a shopping area, complete with plastic fruit and cash registers; a bike that one could pedal to light a traffic light or keep a ball afloat atop a stream of air; a hairdressing salon, dress-up area, and play post office; a recording studio, with (loud) instruments; a discovery area with a ball run, explorations of color and shadow, electric circuit board, and I don’t even remember what else; many more hands-on puzzles and building toys; and, my personal favorite, a phosphorescent wall inside a dark room that captures your shadow with a flash of light. I had fun timing my leaps with the flash while my patient daughter looked on. We had to drag Sylvan and Elena out after over two hours of non-stop fun.

Clifford and I save the day.

We walked a mile to downtown Klamath Falls, stopping immediately over the train tracks to check out the outside displays at the Klamath County Museum, including a brick-making machine, old columns from a courthouse that was never used, and a wooden building that served as a milk shed, a fort, and, finally, a house. Then we started our search for lunch in earnest, since it was after 1 o’clock and the troops were restless, despite our plying them with bagels. But, then, suddenly, Sylvan’s 40 pounds in the jogger felt like 80. I looked down and saw that we had a flat. After some coaxing, Sylvan (whine) walked the remaining two blocks to lunch. Chris, with his iPhone (yay!) found that there was a Hutch’s bicycle shop two blocks from lunch; we’d stop in after lunch.

We went to A Leap of Taste, 907 Main Street, for lunch, which I’d found when I typed in “coffee shop Klamath Falls” into Google maps. And technology really paid off. Our sandwich – provolone, muffaletta (olive salad, for all you Italians who didn’t know, like me), and Eugene’s own Yumm! sauce – was superb, so good that the kids weren’t really interested in the PB&J we conservatively ordered for them. Sylvan’s steamer and my mocha were tasty, and the coconut cream cupcake? Mmmmm. Sylvan beat Daddy at a card game of War while Elena sat on the potty in the bathroom, which housed a 7-year-old’s beautiful crayon drawing on linoleum.

Off to fix the tire. The mechanic pulled from the tire a dozen or so seeds of the dreaded goat head plant (also called puncturevine) (remember that jaunt across the field?) before replacing the tube. While we waited, Elena rang all the bike bells and squeezed the bike horns shaped like cows. Sylvan donned a helmet and zoomed around the store on a little 13-incher with training wheels; he was sad when he heard that the repairs were complete.

Why am I not petting the dog in this picture?

But it was time to head to the Linkville Cemetery to do some research. I took some photos and notes before the cold closed in. Then we quickly headed home, two miles to the motel. And poor Elena cried nearly the whole way. She was cold, it turned out, and, when we sat her in a warm bath, she didn’t move, just contentedly waited for her circulation to return. Bad parents.

We ordered pizza for dinner. The free cinnamon sticks were the best part.

Awoke to wind, which turned to 30 minutes of snow. The motel shuttle brought us and the Amtrak employees to the train station, where we were scheduled to leave at 8:25. The trip back over the mountains was the highlight of my trip. The snow deepened as the train headed north to Chemult. We saw snowmobile tracks and occasional animal tracks. The ride along the south side of Odell Lake offered glimpses of steely water. The pass itself was clouded in and snowy, which only solidified our desire to play in the snow after Thanksgiving (which we did; more photos to follow). The ride west after the pass was punctuated by numerous tunnels and dropoffs to the north. Exciting. Elena enjoyed watching the cows and horses as we pulled closer to Eugene.

Sylvan tried to avoid the camera, but he's so curious.

Well, our jogger decided to stay on until Salem, but Amtrak covered their mistake by offering us another stroller, someone else’s, to borrow so we could walk home. Which we did.

Elena has fun at the sink.