It’s finally happened: I went to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. It’s something I have wanted to do since moving to Oregon in 2009, but there was always a more important journey to take, or there just wasn’t enough money to do it and everything else I wanted to do. There’s still not enough money, but I needed this experience so, so much.
We saw A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Come From Away. The productions were exactly of the caliber I was expecting, a standard I got so used to back East back in the 1980s and 90s – not just in New York and Connecticut, but in Kentucky as well. I’m not sure why West Coast theater has disappointed me more than it’s thrilled me, but I’m grateful it came through this time, and in such a huge way.
The audience loved Midsummer and I absolutely see why. I loved being there and loved seeing it, but Mark Lamos’ 1988 production of the show at Hartford Stage has, I think, ruined me for all future productions. Not at ALL saying this Oergon production was lacking – it’s me, not them. Terrific cast… for the most part, wonderful staging, joyous time. And I loved that the high school kids sitting near us were SO into it.
I saw a recorded production of Come From Away in March of last year on Apple TV, midweek of days with my Mom in hospice. I was sitting alone, in my sister’s basement, missing my husband and doggy, reflecting on a lot, needing a mental break. I had no idea what the play was about, but had heard it was really good, and I needed a distraction. I started watching, immediately drawn in by the fabulous music. And then I cried the moment I realized what the play was about and didn’t stop through the entire show – and the crying was mostly from being so touched by the wonderful message of the show. I hoped that the Oregon Shakespeare Festival production would be similar, and I was not at all disappointed: in fact, it was one of the best live performances I’ve ever witnessed. Glorious. I didn’t want it to end. And Stefan, who hates musicals and isn’t at all much for live theater, teared up right along with me and stood up right along with me to applaud as the show ended (but he didn’t whoop. I whooped.).
Added bonus to these wonderful theater experiences was the city of Ashland: it’s one of the most charming cities I’ve ever been in. Beautiful neighborhoods, wonderful restaurants, a vibrant downtown, lovely central park, sweet little Japanese garden and, for Oregon, very friendly people. There’s even a bit of a river walk with some really great restaurants along the water. We had sheltered overnight in Ashland in March 2020 as COVID was shutting things down, on our way back from Baja, California, Mexico. So we hadn’t seen anything of Ashland except the inside of a dumpy motel room – Ashland that day and night, back in 2020, was a ghost town.
This Ashland experience could not have been more different. If the city weren’t so so far from everything, I’d move there.
We decided to turn the theater trip into a motorcycle trip, too, and take four days for the whole experience. We also didn’t take I-5 from the PDX metro area – Oregon state highway 99 isn’t always scenic, but we prefer it to the interstate. We had wanted to camp on the way down and on the way back. We usually camp at Princess Creek campground on Odell Lake on our way South, but the temps were below freezing at night that high up, and we just didn’t feel like dealing with that, sleeping in a tent.
We booked a tiny one-room cabin outside of Crescent Lake, up in the hills past Oakridge. It was our first time ever using Air B & B. Our accommodation had a bed, a chair, a fake fireplace that generates heat if you need it (we needed it only in the morning) and a TV we never turned on. I LOVED it. The bathroom was its own tiny building a few steps away, just a toilet and sink, but with running water and an RV door (which I think was brilliant: much more secure than a wooden door, lockable, has a little window, and seals up perfectly when closed).
The owner, like a lot of people in the area, had a single-wide trailer with a lot of alterations and a garage bigger than his living space. He wasn’t there – in fact, we saw only one person in the entire neighborhood, which was a mix of luxury custom-built homes and trailers amid many trees, on gravel roads, and with bare ground between the trees (high desert). We had the whole area to ourselves, which made for a very quiet evening and a nice walk in the morning. We went two up to the tiny town of Crescent Lake after unpacking to have the famous broasted chicken at Manley’s Tavern – in fact, knowing it would be half a chicken, we split the meal between us. There are some accommodation options roadside in Crescent Lake – one was a bit cheaper than where we stayed. But we really loved where we stayed, so no regrets.
A word about Oakridge, which we passed through on our way to Crescent Lake: We’ve been going to Oakridge since we first moved to Oregon. We were introduced to the area by the famous motorcycle touring couple, Eric Haws and his wife, Gail, who lived in Westfir, nearby. It wasn’t much of a destination in 2009, but over the years, business after business has closed. So many buildings are now empty. If it didn’t still have a grocery store, I’m not sure how people in the area would survive. The most active business seemed to be a St. Vincent De Paul building. It’s so sad to see a town dying in such a beautiful area.
The ride to Ashland on backroads was gorgeous. We came into Ashland from the East, via Dead Indian Memorial Road (yikes, what a name), and the views were spectacular. We couldn’t check into our hotel before 4, and we were both hungry. As we rode through down, I saw a place called Omar’s in my rearview mirror, and we turned around for it. I thought it was a falafel place, based on the name, and was hoping they had donor kebab for Stefan. I was wrong about what they had but, wow, the food was terrific – Omar’s is an Ashland institution with very good food and incredibly friendly service (not just for Oregon). And if you are from my part of the world, you will appreciate the strong House of Como vibe (Evansville, Indiana reference – but whenever you go, it’s full of Kentuckians).
It had been a struggle before the trip to find a somewhat affordable place to stay in Ashland (no matter the price, we were NOT staying at that dumpy hotel again). I chose the Ashland Motel and I was skeptical about it, based on how it looks on the outside, but our room was exactly what we wanted: large, clean and comfy. It had been recently upgraded, and was way nicer than we expected. Not sure why they got rid of the trees around the pool though, nor why the gate at the pool was locked. The hotel is a 1.1 mile walk to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival downtown – and we did that walk five times over the course of our two days there. There is a bus stop right outside the motel driveway but, unfortunately, the bus stops at 6 at night on weekdays and doesn’t run on weekends at all (budget cuts). There’s a terrific place to have breakfast RIGHT next door to the hotel: the Morning Glory cafe. I wasn’t much for their way of making biscuits and gravy, but the pancakes were AWESOME.
Lithia Park in downtown Ashland is gorgeous. We had perfect weather to walk through it, and the Japanese Garden there, and along their little river walk, as well as visiting downtown shops. Ashland is SO ALIVE. And beautiful. On our way home from the second show at night, we saw deer munch on the lawns of the adorable houses that line the street, and much of the traffic completely died down.
We also saw a LOT of addicts walking the streets, and not just in Ashland. The number of people addicted to meth and/or opioids throughout Oregon remains astounding to me.
If I heard it once, I heard it almost a dozen times on this trip: I like / love your shirt. I wore it every day except actually to the theater (it glows in the dark). May the Forest Be With You!
The weather during our visit, especially Saturday, was perfect. Llithia Park is gorgeous. Ashland is gorgeous. I’m ready to move there. If it weren’t so isolated from absolutely everything, I would.
After two nights in Ashland, it was time to leave. We loaded up and stopped downtown at Ruby’s for breakfast – it was FANTASTIC. I so wish we had a place like it in Forest Grove or Cornelius (delicious and quick).
Once again, Stefan had mapped a gorgeous route. Riding through Rogue River-Siskiyou National Forest was glorious. I know a lot of motorcyclists get bored of trees, but I don’t. Outside of Prospect, Oregon, just off highway 62, through through the forest, we saw a sign for a “natural bridge” and decided to check it out. We found out that the Rogue River goes through a very narrow gorge and then disappears into a lava tube, taking 35 seconds to travel 200 feet to the tube’s outlet. The top of the tube is called The Natural Bridge. There are two viewpoints, each with parking lots: one of the gorge and one of the lava tubes (the “natural bridge”). We stopped at both, and I made a video of the river going through the gorge and the tube. Easy hiking to viewpoints at both of these sites, by the way (for those of you who don’t want to change out of your motorcycle boots). Definitely want to return to this area to camp.
We finally met other motorcycle adventure riders! They were visiting the gorge view, two up on a Ducati, on their way to the Lost Coast Backcountry Discovery Route (BDR), which we intend to do in the Fall. Except for one rider that passed us in Crescent Lake, we had seen NOTHING but Harley riders. And no women riders at all, which is rare not to see in Oregon.
We stopped at a very sad resort along Diamond Lake to eat our leftovers for lunch – very run down, not-at-all attractive buildings. Then onward, passing a plane that was parked on the side of the highway after having to land on the road earlier (everyone was okay, we read later). We had intended to camp that night, but the sky was gray, and we knew it was going to rain on Monday, so decided against it. We drove through downtown Roseburg, which we’d never visited, thinking it might be a nice place to stay, but did not like what we were seeing. Looking at an interactive map later, I see a lot of restaurants a few blocks from the main drag, so perhaps we just were in absolutely the wrong part of the town.
We decided to jump on I-5 and stay at a budget roadside motel Stefan found online, the Ranch Motel. Turns out it’s a vintage hotel where each room is its own A-frame. It’s clean, the owners are onsite and VERY nice, and they keep chickens! There are some buildings between the motel and the highway which are abandoned, and that’ a bummer and makes the area not look nice, but they also block some of the noise from the road. We had a really nice evening sitting outside our room, drinking beer and wine and reflecting on the trip. The Ranch Motel isn’t a destination, but if you are on your way through Oregon, this is an affordable, funky, fun place to stay.
Stefan mapped out a way to get to Eugene via backroads West of I-5, and it was a delightful ride through Northern Douglas County and Lane County. Oregon is just an absolutely amazing place to ride motorcycles, and this was yet another reminder. There were wineries, there were shacks, there were ranches, there were hills and forests and valleys, there were nice double-wides, there were run down single-wides, there was a mix of people doing well and people not doing very well at all. I noticed tiny signs on the road in Lane County, and realized they were for bicyclists, to know how long a road was back to Eugene (I have pretty good eyesight from a distance and was able to read them as we passed).
I had something nasty going on with my innards and had skipped anything for breakfast. I am so glad I take so much medication with me when we travel. Anyway… by lunchtime, I was starving, so we stopped at a Dairy Queen in Corvalis (my beloved GJ’s restaurant in Eugene is closed Mondays and Tuesdays) where my tummy welcomed a single and a blizzard. We took 99 home, the same way we came – not exactly scenic, and straight as it can be, but still better than I-5.
So, back to the purpose of this trip: for me to finally do my pilgrimage to Oregon Shakespeare Festival. I really cannot emphasize enough how grateful I am for this trip.
Until this year, I had seen just one professional theater production since moving back to the USA: the touring company of Book of Mormon in Portland. This year, in January, we went to The Play That Goes Wrong at Portland Center Stage, a co-production with Seattle Rep, as part of my turning-60 celebrations / condolences. Seeing shows at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival is also a part of acknowledging my old age milestone. I also got to see Trae Crowder a few weeks ago. And continuing that oh-crap-I’m-60 recognition, we’ll see Much Ado About Nothing, starring Tom Hiddleston and Hayley Atwell, in November on Broadway – yes, we will go to New York City together at last (so, so sad we won’t get to see the The Late Show With Stephen Colbert, as we had always dreamed of doing).
2026 will be the year I got to feel like it was 1989, when amazing live performances were all around me, and I got to experience them regularly. I will always cherish that feeling, then and now.
But I’ve decided that the November show will be it for going to see professional theater for me. Yes, really. An exception will be made if Spamalot makes it to Portland again. I probably won’t be going to any more high-priced concerts, and no concerts in Portland anymore, either. I’ll see community theater or any other local performance if the show strikes me as something really worth seeing and I can walk or easily take mass transit to it. But this year of live performance has blown our budget out of the water. And going out for these shows has really made me feel my age. Getting to Portland for just an evening is such a chore. We have limited time and limited funds, and I need to be much more strategic and budget-conscious about how those are spent after 2026 (though I really should start right now).
I have seen more than 100 high-caliber theater productions in my life – and probably 200 if you throw on all the mediocre shows and community theater productions (the latter of which were NOT always mediocre!). I am so beyond lucky to have experienced all that. Most people don’t. Most people can’t. I love reflecting on it all. And those reflections will be enough. Unless I win the lottery or miraculously, at last, land a job, this is how it needs to be.
We’ve got so much to do that’s easier and is something Stefan really loves, like motorcycle riding, camping and hiking. I need to get back to playing my instruments. I need to get back to gardening. I need to read more. Maybe I’ll even finally write some fiction, something I just never seem to get around to.
But I’ll always have these memories. At least I hope I will.
Leave a Reply