Travel Oregon

In the lush and fertile land called Oregon, where the vineyards and forests and rivers are known far and wide for their epic abundance, there came a gentle rumbling amongst the people. This rumbling came to be known as an “art scene,” meaning that this place also had a mysterious gift for nurturing the smart and interesting and talented people who came to its shores. In other parts of the world, these people might feel out of place or ahead of their time or even a little crazy. And yet, when they would land on Oregon soil, often after a long cross-country trip that involved camping, they would begin to thrive.

And this is more or less what happened to a band called Pink Martini, whose bandleader and vocalist met at Harvard and dreamed that it might be possible to make a new yet timeless music that would make granddads tap their feet and toddlers dance and give girls of all ages chills like you get from romantic old movies where everyone is well-dressed and there's a decanter of whiskey and a piano in every room. And so they came together in Portland. After a while, the seeds of their music floated across the sea to Europe, and soon the whole world was clamoring for it.

This has happened to many a chef and many a painter and many a band, and when you visit, you will notice that this art scene is like no other. It is a scene you may want to paint yourself into, especially if you are smart and interesting and talented yourself, which you obviously are. So pack up your ears and eyes and paintbrush and start planning your Oregon arts getaway.

People think Governor Tom McCall was a visionary just because he had a vision that everybody ought to be free to enjoy the Oregon Coast. But if you have ever visited the Oregon Coast, you know this is an idea that strikes everyone the minute they lay eyes on it. It is a place so magnificent and epic and untamed that we humans and our ideas of fences and ownership and even mortality become downright laughable by comparison. Thankfully, all of this intimidating beauty did not stop Mr. McCall from making a law called Revised Statute 390.610, which states: “… it is the public policy of the State of Oregon to forever preserve and maintain … the ocean shore … so that the public may have the free and uninterrupted use thereof.”

In other words, you and I and all of our grandchildren are the proud owners of 363 continuous miles of nature’s best work (interrupted only by the occasional rock outcropping, cedar grove or lighthouse). There is no one, rich or poor, tall or short, old or young, who is not invited to come and run, walk, wade, surf, snorkel, photograph, as well as roast weenies, sip lemonade and read a good book with the Pacific Ocean in front of them and dramatic cliffs, dunes and rocks all around them. And order the Captain’s Platter. And leave a nice tip!

By now you may have heard that Portland, Oregon, is a city like no other. Especially in this day and age when the streets and shops of the world have begun to resemble each other so tediously. Well, it’s true. It is not just an overgrown town but a genuine city with streetcars and street musicians and burrito stands and plenty of tall buildings and even a Saks Fifth Avenue. (But no Barneys.) And within this city is another, magical city they call the City of Books.

“Magical?” you say? Just ask the conductor of the symphony from Sweden who was visiting and decided he wanted to play a certain piece by Tchaikovsky that could be found only in a certain edition of Tchaikovsky’s memoirs. He thought, “I’m in Portland, Oregon, and there’s no way I’m going to find Tchaikovsky’s memoirs.” But then he heard about Powell’s City of Books, a bookstore so vast and impressive it puts even certain other vast, impressive bookstores to shame. And that is because it is not only the world’s largest bookstore, which did, by the way, happen to have a used copy of the 1963 edition of Tchaikovsky’s memoirs, but it is owned and operated by human beings with a lot of heart and no small amount of brain power.

So, if you are a person who believes that a giant bookstore is something we can all take pride in as a civilization, you are politely encouraged to start planning your Portland getaway immediately by calling 1-800-547-7842 or visiting traveloregon.com.

Did you know there was a time, not so long ago, before the ATM and the DVD and the series of tubes we now call the Internets, that the idea of “jogging” was also unheard of? And now, just look. There is a medium-sized town in the middle of Oregon called Eugene that has become the World Capital of Running. Many believe this is thanks to legendary overachieving track coach Bill Bowerman, who thought his fast runners would be even faster if they wore a rubbery shoe that looked like a waffle, not a pancake. So he brought out his wife’s waffle iron and he tried it. The rest is a star-studded history featuring big names like Nike and Steve Prefontaine and the hundreds of all-American track stars like this one who have been setting land-speed records and a good example for runners and joggers ever since.

And yet, if you have ever visited, you know it makes perfect sense that all of this should spring up in a place called Oregon, because of two things. One, it is a place where no idea is too odd to obsess about, even a natural behavior like running. Two, it is a state so beautiful it makes you wish you could explore the whole thing on foot, if only time would allow.

So if you’re a runner or a track fan or just a regular person who appreciates fast people, you will feel welcome here.

Which brings us to the story of our heroine, an impressive skier herself, who happened upon a majestic white peak in the upper left hand quarter of the map one day.

On this peak stood a great, woodsy lodge that, the minute she laid eyes on it, brought to mind the grand and hospitable mountain chalets of Europe. No sooner had our skier-heroine laid tracks in the fresh powder surrounding the enchanted buildling than she vowed to make a habit of it. And no sooner had she crawled under the Native American blanket in her hand-carved bed than she dreamed a mysteriously vivid dream. She dreamed it was possible to play all manner of winter sports there, even in the middle of summer. And when she woke up, she found it was true.

Now here's another thing you may find mysterious. There are as many types of snow in Oregon as there are cheeses in France. You can taste them all if you have a few days: from the dry, fluffy goodness of Mt. Bachelor's high desert peak to the mid-July wonder of Mt. Hood's glacier to the deep, creamy drifts of the Wallowas. You are cordially invited to sample our snows. And our cheeses, for that matter. We'd love to have you. But hand-carved beds don't grow on trees, so let's keep it among friends. Okay?

This is the story of a family who said goodbye to the world of elevators and Don’t Walk signs and supermarkets and moved to the country to raise goats and make cheese and live off the land. And though the country was beautiful and the cheese was excellent, they found that goats are not all that fun to live with because they are stubborn and eat everything and never show up on time for meetings. And so, once they had honed the craft of cheesemaking to a level even the French could envy, they looked for a way to bring it back to their old friends and neighbors in the city. They hitched their wagon to a caravan of farmers who believe that things taste better with this morning’s dew still on them. These food-loving people made a habit of convening in the leafy parks in and around Portland, Oregon, where an ancient form of supermarket is making a major comeback.

And so, if you have ever dreamed of a place where you can chat up the chef who is picking out the truffles and shake hands with the lady who grew the asparagus and inquire about the weather on the river where the steelhead was caught just yesterday and then go home with a bushel of whatever you fancy, you are in luck. The farmer’s market is alive and well in Oregon and inviting you to have a taste. So open a bottle of Pinot, get out your laptop and start planning your own caravan at traveloregon.com. Or call 1-800-547-7842.

Get a list of all Farmers' Markets in Oregon

This is a story about a man who loved to ride his bicycle in Oregon. He rode through the mountains, through the valleys and desert and when he got tired he'd rest in one of the small hospitable towns along the way. And he would have kept on riding along, except that one day on his journey through a small town he came across a woman who was weeping. She told him her town was struggling and might not survive because there weren't enough people visiting.

And it wasn't just her town, but others too. Now the man was upset by this. For if the town disappeared, where would he fi nd a nice place to rest? He had an idea. He asked all the people he knew if they wanted to join him on his next adventure he called Cycle Oregon. The following year he and 1,008 of his closest friends set out to experience Oregon in the best way possible-on bicycle. They toured through the dramatic landscape by day and stopped in the small towns along the way to refuel-the townspeople giving them their best welcome. The visitors were so enchanted by the whole experience that the next year it became 2,012 of his closest friends. And then 2,503.

And to this day, one of the best ways to enjoy Oregon is by bike. Because after you've been taken in by the scenery, you will be just as quickly taken in by Oregonians.

Disover a trail and start your Oregon biking adventure today.

There once was a man who loved the chase. But then, don’t they all. And for this man, there was almost no thing that, once it began to move away from him, he did not desire intensely. And that is how he came to love the game of golf. Once he had conquered one course, there was another. Once his drive was long, he dreamed it could be straighter. And so went the chase. Eventually, the chase brought him to a magical place in the center of Oregon, where it is said that the sun shines 300 days a year and there are more world-class golf courses than you can count. "Now this will keep me busy for a while," he thought.

But the very next day, his ball landed on the bank of a clear, cold river. And just as he was about to swing at it, he caught sight of a trout jumping a few feet away. Before he could mutter “mulligan,” he was waist deep in the water with a fishing rod in his hand. The man had found something new to chase. And this is how he came to love the sport of fishing.

Now, our man had every intention of going back to his first love. And he did. But not before he was again distracted, this time by the sight of a chairlift on a nearby snowy peak. The man who once dreamed only of golf now had a new dream—to perform the Oregon Hat Trick. That is, to pursue a golf ball, a fish and spring powder, all in the same day. This is the wonder of golfing in Oregon. It can challenge your focus. But you will never lack something to chase.

Start planning your Oregon golf-ish-ski getaway by visiting our regions or look at our golf courses and ski resorts today!

Check out our "Golf in Oregon" guide for nearly 200 public Oregon courses or download the guide below. (PDF required)



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There is a chef called Greg Higgins who rode out west—on his bicycle—and when he got to Oregon, as one might imagine after having biked all the way from New York, he was very hungry. Down in the valley there were organic hazelnuts and squash, broccoli and herbs, apples and pears, beets and berries. And over to his right in the huge open spaces were big, beautiful beef roaming freely about, munching on grass. On the coast he found fresh line-caught salmon and cod, pink shrimp and Dungeness crab. And as his belly grumbled away, he had a crazy idea. He called up Cory Schreiber and Vitaly Paley and other Oregonian chefs, who too were hungry to create something extraordinary, and they made a pact. Their goal: to create an Oregon cuisine using local wine,* meats, fruits and vegetables. Food full of unique Oregon flavor and the peace of mind that the rich Oregon soil would stay rich Oregon soil. And not to their surprise, after a while, people began to say, "Let's eat Oregonian tonight. And tomorrow night. And the next night." And now it is easy to find delicious Oregon cuisine: Come to Oregon.

Many years ago in a land we call Ashland, Oregon, there lived a gathering place. It was an old, run-down stage in the middle of the woods that hadn't been used in even many more years-or it was, anyway, until a man spied it and saw something much different. The man didn't see a decrepit old stage but a place of enchantment. Surrounded by the violent rivers and gentle hills of southwestern Oregon, there wasn't a need for fancy sets or elaborate costumes. In fact, there was something so captivating about the place that he envisioned people coming all the way to Oregon and living the theater for a week at a time. And they came. The serious theater-goers and the not so serious theater-goers. Actors and actresses from places too far off to mention. The little stage turned into three. Two shows turned into eleven. The man began to understand that what he had really seen was a new way to experience the theater. Not the after-dinner-and-before-bed type, but something more akin to a pilgrimage. Where people make the journey because, unlike any other theater they've been to before, they aren't simply taking in a performance, but playing an important part. Come experience the arts in Oregon and see how nature inspires creativity.

There is a river in Oregon where the water is white and fast. Actually, there are hundreds of them. But on this river, many years ago, a man was born who would grow up to be a fish whisperer of the highest order, sniffing out steelhead and salmon and all manner of sneaky and intelligent trout. This man was known for miles around as a fellow who could take you to the fish. And he was very busy. And one day he dreamed an impossible dream. Imagine a boat made of wood that would be as nimble as Sacagawea’s canoe and as strong as an ocean liner which could take you to the remotest and wildest corners of the river where only the eagles go fishing. It sounds impossible and it may actually be impossible, but when you are in a McKenzie drift boat careening downstream between boulders the size of Rhode Island with a guide named Helfrich at the helm, you will believe in it. And many people have. They have the photos and sometimes, the fillets in their freezers to prove it. There are many wild rivers in Oregon where the fish still glimmer and romp in large numbers, not afraid of us humans, because they have been whispered to in just the right way by old Mr. Helfrich and his sons and grandsons and granddaughters and nephews and nieces these past hundred years. And that seems to make a difference. So if you are a human who enjoys the thrill of the chase and the mystery of the rapids and–by some miracle–the complete lack of bloodthirsty insects, start chasing the fish here today.

Once upon a time there was an Indian tribe who lived in synch with the cycle of the Umatilla River in Oregon. For thousands of years, the river told them when to hunt deer, when to pick huckleberries, when to dig for roots—the river was very bossy. But the most important thing the river did was fill up with big, beautiful salmon. But one day the river began to quiet down and eventually the salmon disappeared. So the Umatilla Tribe did what every good Oregonian would and set out to bring back their river. They went to the nearby farmers who had been using water from the river for their crops and asked for their help. Now, they could have argued back and forth about whose water it was but of course they both knew that if one had fish and the other did not have crops, the fish would not taste truly satisfying. And if one had crops and the other did not have fish, the crops would not grow so proudly. So they instead did things the Oregonian way: They worked together and didn’t stop until they found a solution. And now when you visit the Umatilla in Oregon, you will hear the river barking orders loudly once again—along with occasional whispers of, “It’s good to be back.” Come explore Oregon’s outdoors. Oregonians have a special appreciation for their environment and are very eager to share it with you.

While everything seems to be getting more globalized and standardized, there are chefs in Oregon busy creating a regional cuisine which not only tastes better, but is better for the environment and for our health and for the local economy. And while other wine makers endeavor to replicate the taste of European wine, Oregon vintners instead are perfecting their own and believe so deeply that Oregon wine is its own special delight, they had to go and make the labeling laws in Oregon more stringent than anywhere else in the country. So it may not surprise you that some of the best golf courses in Oregon don't look anything like Augusta or Shadow Creek or Loxahatchee. Because Oregonians have their own ideas about what golf should be too. Where even though it might be one of the best courses in the world, it is still open to the public. As is the entire coast- line of Oregon. Oregonians believe their beaches are one of their most precious gifts, and are here for everyone's enjoyment, not just that of a few. And if this all seems a little odd or a little extreme or just plain intriguing, come out and have a look for yourself. Ski down the mountains. Walk up and down the coast. Taste the bounty of the valleys. Take in the majesty of the desert. And maybe you'll start to think Oregonians aren't so crazy after all.

There once was a young man who, as young men have done for centuries, picked up his sleeping bag, kissed his mother goodbye and declared, “I will journey westward to find my fortune.” And in this case he added, “I will tirelessly seek out the finest beers in all the land.

And when I find them, I will learn their secrets and share them with the world.” To this, she replied, “You are crazy, but I love you. Call when you get a real job, son.”

And so, he went. It was a long and dusty road and soon he was quite thirsty. Which is fortunate, because by that time he had heard of a place called Oregon, where there are more artisan breweries than anyplace else in the world. He soon found himself in a charming village in the high desert of Central Oregon, where the red pines grow as tall as skyscrapers and the lizards scurry away from the coyotes. He brought his bald tires to a stop at the door of the Deschutes Brewery, where there was a legendary man making beers of the highest order. Not to be sacrilegious or anything, but our hero found the shiny vats of the brewhouse and the scent of hops in the air and the sound of Talking Heads on the boom box more splendid than all the naves of all the cathedrals of Europe.

And so, he got to work, hoping to prove himself worthy. First, he learned the innuendo of India pale ale. Then he studied the subtleties of stout. In a while, he mastered the peculiarities of pilsner and by and by, he became a master brewer himself (much to his mother’s dismay). He now greets the many tired and thirsty travelers who come to Bend, Oregon with a big smile and a full pitcher. You could be one of them.

Check out our incredible Microbreweries.

For your information, they’re not pajamas. They’re traditional Chinese garb. And this woman is a highly respected curator of Chinese artifacts who keeps watch over a highly unusual and mysterious museum. You see, once upon a time, there was a powerful Chinese medicine man. Only this man was not in China but in a place called John Day, Oregon. At that time there was a Great Gold Rush on. And so, the cowboys and Indians and pioneers and miners and scalawags for hundreds of miles came to his shop to get Chinese herbal remedies for their various ailments, and supplies for the seeking of gold. And occasionally, opium. Now this may seem strange enough. But then one day, many tens of decades ago, it was as if the doors shut, the clocks stopped and not a peep was heard from the Kam Wah Chung Company for a long, long time.

And so, what we have here now is a perfectly preserved pharmacy, general store and Chinese-American oddity just waiting for you to come and browse around in. A Hollywood movie set couldn’t have done it better. In fact, those Hollywood movie people come here just to get ideas.

So if you’re in the neighborhood, fossil hunting, fishing, rock-climbing or just enjoying the spectacular scenery, you would be a fool not to stop by the museum called Kam Wah Chung Company. It’s the last thing you’d expect to see, but the first thing you might write home about.

Start planning your Oregon Wild West getaway in Eastern Oregon today!

Say, did you know that there are only a few places on this planet where you can take a stroll in the backyard and find million-year-old plants and fish and saber-toothed tigers just lying around under your 21st-century sneaker? Well, you are a smart person, so you probably knew that. But you might not know that one of those rare places is in Oregon. It’s called John Day Fossil Beds and when it became a National Monument, the local people realized the ranchlands they were walking around on were just the last sentence of the last page of a very interesting story.

Pretty soon there were scientists flying in from Russia and Africa and France and heaven knows where else to study the newly discovered ancient species of plants and fish and animals – 2,200 of them last time we checked. Eventually quite a few people found out about it so they built a museum. But it is no ordinary museum. It’s the kind of place where you’re welcome to cavort with the scientists and even pretend you are one for a day or two. You can ask questions and touch things and maybe go off and find your own fossils one day. Because here in Oregon, we figure a tropical rainforest buried under our feet is the planet’s treasure and we’re all just passing through, so we should learn what we can while we’re here.

So, if you are a person who delights in a natural history museum and wish it could be a little more, well, natural, you might want to swing by the wondrous fossil beds of John Day before another million years go by and it’s your skeleton they’re interested in. Start planning your scenic and educational Oregon getaway today!

Let me tell you about a woman from the planet Why Not? She came here on a ship called I-Dare-You in a suit made of neoprene. Now, this girl was always pretty good at sports. But there was no preparing the world for what she would do when she landed in a very peculiar part of Planet Earth called Oregon.

It started with a mighty river, one of the mightiest in the world, and some steep rock cliffs that funnel the wind into the river in a very powerful way. Then there was a general lack of consideration for conventional wisdom. Or wisdom, period. This is an affliction that often afflicts Oregonians, sometimes resulting in new and unconventional outdoor activities that subsequently sweep the nation and the planet.

And this is roughly how the sport of kiteboarding came to be. But not before the pooh-poohers and naysayers and skeptics and chickens had their say about how it’s crazy and dangerous and ridiculous and it will never catch on. But, like windsurfing and whitewater kayaking and snowboarding and lots of other things that people like to do in Oregon, rolling your eyes at the naysayers is just part of the fun of being in a place with a landscape so extreme, so breathtaking and dramatic, people can’t stop inventing sports that are also extreme, breathtaking and dramatic.

So, if you think it might be fun to risk life and limb in the Columbia River Gorge or, better yet, to sit on a sun-baked deck with the breeze in your hair and a pint of amber ale in your hand and watch other people risk life and limb in the Columbia River Gorge, you’re invited to start planning your Gorge getaway at www.traveloregon.com or by calling 1-800-547-7842.

As it so happened one day, a man who came to be known as Papa Pinot fell in love with a curious spirit—the curious spirit being a kind of grape they call pinot. He was so head over heels for the mysteriously delicious fruit and what happens to it when left to sit in a barrel for a bit with some yeast, that he set out to create his own special vineyard just for them. He searched high and low and as it so happened the grapes with whom he fell in love just so happened to fall in love with the long, cool growing season of the beautiful green hillsides in Oregon. So they settled here to start their life together. And instead of listening to the ways of the European and Californian wine makers, Papa Pinot decided to listen to what his vines had to say. He tended them with care and admiration, not forcing them to be anything but what they wanted to be. And he found that when given the chance, Oregon pinots have many secrets to share. So when you come to Oregon, be sure to try a bottle or seven. Their secrets are delicious.

Have a taste of something different. Plan your visit to David Lett's, aka Papa Pinot's, The Eyrie Vineyards and other pioneering Oregon wineries to sample their labors of love.