No Burl for Town - Pursued by a Bear
On Sunday morning, we were almost run over by a herd of deer. It's like that for us hardy word travelers. Well, inter-state travelers.
We went up to Ashland, Oregon, for the weekend. It was all good.
Heading out at 7:00 and using the 405 shortcut had us North of Sacramento by 10:00 and after a brief stop in Dunsmuir (somehow I thought there was more there - darn half remembered AAA guidebook) we were in Ashland by 1:30 and wine tasting by errr...2:30. Before we'd tasted a dram of wine we'd gotten turned around a few dozen times. Those backroads are backroady.
We visited: the confusingly signed Eden Vale visitor's center, and out and out and out to Troon Vineyard (turns out the reason we couldn't find the John Michael Champagne Cellars is because they aren't open this time of year.) Valley View Winery and Rising Sun Farms for wine and cheese. Good wine and cheese.
Then we headed back for dinner at the Black Sheep pub for some traditional, if less greasy, British pub food. Karen had some fish and an enormous stack of chips, while I had a very yummy Cornish pasty. Mmmm...cornish pasty.
Then off to our first play, A Winter's Tale. Ah, yes, the Two-Faced Janus of Shakespeare Plays. A tragedy. A comedy. Quite fun. Quite sad. This time around, the character that got me the most was the young prince, so young, so frolicksome with his litle teddy bear. Doomed, doomed, with another scoop of doom. Alas, it was a bit difficult at first to tell that Antigonus and Paulina were married, which somewhat reduced the pathos of one of Shakepeare's most famous stage directions, exeunt a man stage left, persued by a bear. Here, they choose to only intimate the bear with a growl and a crash into darkness.
The staging was interestingly all set in the woods. In the gauzy background, the bare branches of trees always lurked. Lit dark for the dreary winter of the first half and colorful for the comedy of the second act.
The actor playing the Old-Shepherd was particularly good. I never knew you could say Shakespeare lines with a kind of folksy Southern accent. Slow and molassas and dripping the words exactly where he wanted them for the most humorous effect. Although, as I would expect of a theatre of Ashland's reputation everyone had excellent comand of the language. Not declaming, but saying the lines like they're actual words and speach. Because, well, they are.
The next day, we went for a bit of a hike up a meandering trail along a stream. As we were crossing a tiny bridge a herd of bambi came running down the trail. As Karen said, "Go, go, go," we ran across the bridge. However, I suppose not wanting to run down meat eaters such as ourselves, they ran up a nearly vertical cliff face instead. It was quite invigorating.
Also, invigorating was the excellent shopping we did next. We once again made a very successful visit to our favorite shop Renaissance Rose, where I acquired some completely uncessary, but quite inexpensive 1950s hats and other sundrys. We were also happy to acquire flashy light sunglasses. Really, every shop would be well served to sell cheap vintage clothes, tiaras, wigs, swords, shoes, and and stencils. What? You know it's true.
Then it was time for quick lunch and off to the second play, The Importance of Being Earnest. It was bubbly and frothy and everything Oscar Wilde. The actor playing Algeron was the epitome of languid, lounging, slink. Plus, I coveted his brocade robe.
Then more shopping, because really, why not, and one of our more dragged out meals ever. There's not altogether a lot to do in Ashland once the shops have closed, but the plays not yet on.
Our third play was The Diary of Ann Frank. Quite good. Quite depressing. The actress playing Ann was particularly good. She really conveyed the restless potential of this woman-child. The last time I encountered the play was in high school. I wasn't much older than Ann. I felt her frusteration. That not fitting in. Frusteration at having to be, pegged. Quiet. I know the purpose was to give the Holaucaust a human face, but at the time I was all about her romance with Peter. Now, I'm twice Ann's age. My mother and I get along just fine. I've found my place. Built my own space. Watching this potential that should have grown up and grown old. Quite a bit more tragic than any Winter's Tale.
I must admit, we darted out at the intermission. Neither of us wanted to end our trip on, well, such a down note. Which is a bit of a shame for the very fine performances, but personally, I'd have staged Ann in the afternoon and Earnest in the evening. But that's me. I prefer to begin in sorrow and end in joy.
The next morning was a leasury walk, this time no Bambis, although I think there may have been a veloceraptor in the bushes. Certainly, there were enough signs about vicious attack poison oak. Then we went...North. Since we had no set time we need to arrive, other than wishing to miss rush hour traffic, we decided to head to the Coast and 101 for a nice meandering trip South.
Took our pictures in front of the giant Blue ox at the "Trees...of...Mystery" We'd have gone in in, but 12.50 for some wacky tree carvings seemed a bit much.
Victorian Ferndale also merited a brief visit for a stroll. The sun came out and all was quaint.
All in all, a good trip. Although, next time I do want to visit one of the burl towns. What's life if you don't drive your car through a tree every decade or so?
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