Portland is such a great city!

Olivia and I had a wonderful walk through the city’s night heat the other day, Portland’s canopied, tree-lined streets and summertime weather perfect for long walks through it’s plethora of neighborhoods. We met up with some old friends for sushi at a place called Umi (which is also the name of a sushi place in our old Pittsburgh neighborhood) where the rolls were 2 inches wide and barely, if even, could fit in your mouth. Yesterday we took a case of PBR and some rubber rafts down the Clackamas River, sunning our skin, swimming our souls and soaking in the day. Tonight I shall partake of the finery they’ll no doubt be purveying at the 2009 Oregon Brewers Festival on Portland Waterfront Park, which is less than a hop, skip and a stone’s throw away from our downtown hotel, from which the view of the city at night is simply immaculate, lights flaring, buildings stacked seemingly on top of one another, and the twin towers of our neighbor, the Convention Center, in the foreground.

As for tomorrow, the wife and I plan to take it easy, touring some random neighborhood and lavishing ourselves on one another before we embark on another great adventure sure to involve trains, redwood forest, mountain passes and desert hotels. All of this motion, and perhaps because we haven’t been in “parent mode” for the past few weeks (Tristan is still staying with his grandparents back east), has me feeling like a champion youth. I’m in better shape than I’ve been in since I was a non-stop skateboarding teenager and every morning I wake up freshly adorned with the will to take whatever the world can throw at me.

Thankfully, it mostly only throws rafting trips, train rides and easy afternoons my way. :)

The roads into the campground (ie, the roads that take you to your actual camping spot) are pretty rocky dirt roads, but nothing overly dangerous, though if you take a wrong turn in an RV, you might find yourself still trying to back out or in need of a tow truck a few hours later. For roadtripping campers though, these same roads offer some nice twisty trails that’ll give you ample seclusion from your fellow campers.

There is a little store where you need to register on the way in, and it has snacks and some basic food items, plus a decent little bathroom around back. No showers that I’d seen, and no paper towels, but if you just need a clean place to relieve yourself, you’re surely in luck. There are other, much more primitive, bathrooms in the camping area, though I didn’t personally visit them. I was told they’re quite the stanky house, though.

The owner was a little strange, again he kept emphasizing how quiet we should be after 9pm, and though alcohol is allowed in one part of the campground, it wasn’t allowed in the section we were in, called the “Family Area.” Later, he simply told us to “be discreet.”

This campground is even closer to Ohiopyle proper, and due to that it really shines as a nice, convenient place to stay while you’re frequenting all of the things you can do in Ohiopyle State Park itself, and the surrounding area (including whitewater rafting, swimming, fishing, biking, kayaking, and a couple of gems of Frank Lloyd Wright’s).

Firstly, if you are looking to have a few beers around a fire, it should be known that Pennsylvania State Parks don’t allow it, in fact, it’s illegal. We didn’t have any problems the first day, but night two led to a ranger sneaking up on us through the thick of the night and making us dump out our open beverages: three beers and, the kicker, half a bottle of Jack Daniels. So if drinking is your goal, you may want to find yourself another campground.

On the other hand, if you’re the outdoorsy type and like to get in the water, Ohiopyle has you covered. “The Yough” River itself offers some great whitewater rafting, suitable for first-timers but easily fun for the more experienced as well. When the river swells, the rapids can get up to a class IV, and you can either go on your own (either with your own gear or by renting rafts or a kayak from one of multiple outfitters in town), or take a guided tour. We took a guided tour (as we were required to) because the river had swelled 5 feet above normal and so the rapids were exceptionally fast and high. Dave, our guide with the Whitewater Adventures group, was a blast to hang out with and we were the only raft that day to not flip and send us “for a swim”.

You can also find natural waterslides and small swimming holes in some of the smaller tributaries leading into the Yough, and there are bike trails for anyone who’d like to give them a go. Ohiopyle, the town, is also the southernmost terminus of the Laurel Highlands Trail, which begins 70 miles away in Johnstown, PA, and is supposed to be a beautiful, moderate hike.

And if you are up for having a few drinks after your water adventures, but don’t want to risk the $300 fine for consuming alcohol in the state park’s campground, you can stop in at the Ohiopyle House Cafe which sports indoor and outdoor seating, a decent selection of beer (including some micros), really great food, especially for such a small town, with loads of vegetarian options. The basement also houses a small dive bar where you get all of the fried bar food your heart desires, shoot some darts and talk shop with the locals, who seem to be both the regular patrons and the entire staff.

So all in all, Ohiopyle is a blast and very recommended by this camper, and when the night winds down, stop in at the Cafe, ask for Scary and enjoy this incredibly special little place.

For those of you unfamiliar with teh man’s particular charms, he’s a vibrant and full on young man who is always set t maximum. We were scheduled to leave at 10am, but he’s been up all night itching to go, laying in bed smoking Camels. A shower later we’re on the road to Ohiopyle State Pakr, where we’ll sip through a 30 pack of Busch cans around campfires and the Youghegheny River, a tributary to Pittsburgh’s Monongahela. It’s all old Indian names from here on out.

Flood couldn’t resist the lure of fireworks, the districbutor and the local Guns and Bait Shop, and while he was in the latter a beat up Nova pulls up, spearheaded by a thick with gray and dirty black beard almost completely covering the permanent sunburn on the driver’s face. His mouth is a slab of bent teeth, Copenhagen, and redneck grammar. He goes beyond redneck, he’s purebred, hillbilly.

“What, they givin’ it away for free or what?” I have no clue what he’s talking about but in Nowhere, Pennsylvania, outside of a fishing bait store with a beer and a half in before noon, so it isn’t all that alarming ot me.

“What’s that?” I answer back, despite my instincts shouting at me that I should know better.

“Last day for dope and papers,” he grumbles. Flood gets back just in time and we’re out of there. I eventually put together that he’d actually said “Last day for doe licenses,” as in the hunting variety.

We spent the next two days swimming and whitewater rafting, emptying cans around the fire and shooting darts with the locals in the basement bar of a place simply called the Cafe. Small towns lucky enough to have a cafe don’t need t push said luck with a fancy name.

One late night a ranger slips into our camp through the darkness of a clear moon night under canopy of trees and, discovering our mini-bar’s worth in a non-alcoholoic campsite (all state parks in PA are alcohol-free), then proceeds to let us off with a warning, but not before making us dump out our drinks. For one of our companions that means a half bottle of Jack Daniels. He pours it out at a pace slower than molasses on the moon. He’ll be trapped in disbelief for the rest of the night.

Ohiopyle is highly recommended by this traveler.