Day 192--Richland

Richland, Oregon, has a population of around 140-150 people. We found one small motel, The Hitching Post, and we were the only guests that night. It had signs in the room warning us not to clean fish or game, so I would guess that most of the people who stay there are in Richland for the fishing and hunting.

Don knew the man who owned Richland Feed and Seed, which was right across the street from the motel--he used to be a dairy farmer--and the woman who owned Annie's Cafe, where we had a chiliburger dinner, went to McNary High School, as did her sons. It really is a small world.

It was in Richland that, at 7 a.m., Henry bolted from the room, headed for Huntington on his own. When I stepped out to try and stop him, the door slammed shut. The keys were in the room with Kip, and the store across the street, which doubled as the motel office, didn't open for an hour. All we could do was lock Henry in the car and walk down the street for breakfast. When the store opened, we got a spare key and rescued Kip. I can't imagine what he was thinking.

Even though there was one other restaurant in town--the Shorthorn Restaurant and Tavern--we ate breakfast at Annie's again (what with Eveline being from Keizer and all).



Richland sits on Oregon Route 86 near the Oregon-Idaho border, and it was from there that we headed down a long gravel road to Huntington, following the Snake River most of the way.