Burien, WA
Up before 4 AM to catch a flight, which was fortunately smooth and without any incident. After we picked up our rental car from the airport Budget, we decided to stop in Burien on the way from SeaTac to Seattle. Australian Pie Company is the absolute best food for the Seattle area weather. Beef and mushroom, and chunky beef pies are savory, rich, and hearty. Raz love, love, loved the spinach roll. Flaky pastry and creamy spinach filling. What’s not to love? We would definitely go again, possibly even for dessert next time. We did dessert this time at Pickled & Preserved Market and Deli. Nice place to stop for local honey and preserves on any longer trip. Burien is an adorable small suburb and well worth a stop any time we fly into Seattle.
Seattle, WA
Raz first learned about Ethiopian food in Seattle, and there is something about the spicy mashes picked up with the slightly bitter teff-based flatbread injera that just fills and warms the soul.
It's the ultimate community-style dining experience, everyone pinching up bits of goodness from the same platter, and at the end you can roll up and eat the platter too! Kezira is no exception to our rule that Ethiopian is awlays good. We had all the samplers so that we know for next time to get the chicken from the special plate and the collard greens. I finally got Raz to try kitfo, which remains one of my favorite dishes. It has been difficult to convince him, since the dish is basically raw beef rendered safe for eating through the application of gratuitous amounts of spice. Everyone agreed that I have wonderful taste, however. The cardamom was a little more pronounced in Kezira's kitfo than other places I’ve had it, which just made it that much better. As always, anything with lamb is also a big hit with Raz. The iced hibiscus & ginger drink is way too tart for me, which is probably why Raz loved it so much. The spiced tea in comparison, was almost bland in contrast to the food, so just water is the wisest choice for next time.
We were visiting our friend Steph, and so we breakfasted at her favorite coffee shop, Café Vita and had their wonderful savory croissants. Ham & cheese for me, spinach for Raz. Both were very tasty. The grocery store that had been across the street is no more. It’s been replaced by a bookstore/competing coffee shop, though Steph tells us their coffee isn’t as good, so she doesn’t go there. We didn’t actually meet Morty, the guy who uses Café Vita as his office, but Steph told us all about him, and Walter, the other regular that comes daily to read his paper. We didn’t meet Walter, either, but his dog was pretty sweet. We left with my hazelnut latte and an almond croissant for the road.
It’s really fascinating to travel in places that have seasons, and even more fascinating when you drive through several of those seasons in the course of a few miles. When the snow started falling on the West side of the Snoqualmie Pass, we did the calculations for how it has been since we actually saw real snowfall. Our decision was January 2017. Being that it’s now April 2018, we stopped at the exit for Summit West to take photographic evidence of actual snowfall and drifts up to our waist.
Though I wasn’t using filters, all the pictures look black & white due to the heavy cloud cover rendering the sky a uniform slate-grey. Down the other side of Snoqualmie Pass, the snow faded back to the heavy slow, spring rains we had been having from
Seattle up the West side of the mountain. When the sun broke out across the lush green valley, we found a random view point to pull off and take photos. There was just enough wind to declare it still spring and keep my sweater on as we searched for the cache that happened to also be there. In celebration, we polished off the amazing Café Vita almond croissant, and congratulated ourselves for remembering to get it for the road.
Wapato, WA
It was obviously summer in the Yakima valley since I didn’t even need my sweater in Wapato where we stopped at the Wolf’s Den for gas. Originally, we tried to stop at the nameless little station across the street advertising fuel for 10c less per gallon, but every pump was out of fuel. Of course, Wolfe’s Den was still 20c under every other station for the reminder of the state, so we filled up – thank you, Gas Buddy! The station was remarkable for having a full restaurant but no bottled drinks at all. They did, however, have the cleanest gas station bathroom I have ever seen, with a scent not of Pine Sol, but of the Douglas fir itself that the cleaner and air fresheners forever fall short of emulating. If I ever figure out how they did it, I will feel accomplished, as there were no pines boughs or wood furnishings in the small white-tiled room.
It was back through spring rains again in Klickitat County, and the winds to match, howling down the wide channel of the Columbia River as we crossed into Oregon. We very nearly blew away in the cold, wet gale howling around us as we searched in and around boulders for the cache. There’s just something humbling and inspiring gazing up the sides of towering cliffs which drop precipitously to the deep, rushing river below. One cannot help but marvel at the determined arrogance of mankind while viewing the wide ribbons of highway perched precariously on landfill and floating just feet above the raging surface of the mighty river on both sides. I couldn’t write a word for hours, since I was loathe to take my eyes from the might and wonder of the surrounding view even for second!
The Dalles, OR
After searching a nameless little park to find a cache in The Dalles – truly nameless, mind you, no signs at all – we stopped for lunch. Since Oregon’s comfort food is marionberry tart, we were determined to have it for dessert, but the sky was the limit for savories beforehand. Neither of us could recall having tried Hawaiian barbeque before, so we settled on lunch at Lilo’s after reading some excellent Yelp reviews. Considering we were at Lilo's only open table on what was a lazy Sunday afternoon everywhere else, we figured it was a good choice. I went for the Huli Chicken, Raz for the Kalua Pork, and since we have a mutual obsession with poké, we got that extra to share. As it happens, the prior reviewers were not wrong. Hawaiian BBQ is darn good, sweet, savory, salty and spicy all at the same time. Or at least that describes the Huli Chicken. There was very little sweet in the pork, and the dark, rich BBQ sauce was more savory and spicy than most Texas BBQ, without any of the sweet I was actually expecting. (A very good think in Raz's book.) The Poké, on the other hand, was sweeter and way less spicy than any we have tried at home. This likely due to the lack of New Mexican fusion elements that are taken for granted in the city gaining fame for just that flare.
Two doors down from Lilo’s we found Petite Provence, which is apparently one of a chain of French bakeries throughout Oregon. We don’t have them at home, though, so they fit right in with the concept of trying new things while adventuring. The first thing to catch our eye: Marionberry Tarts! Success! We ordered one, as well as a Caramel-Walnut Tart, an Apricot Tart, and a Lemon Tart, since lemon desserts are numbered on the short list of my favorite things in the world. We had them packaged for the road and we got right back to caching.
Our next stop was to find a cache just before the Hood River Bridge. If we didn’t favorite the cache while logging it, I will have to go back and give it the point. One has to respect any cache that requires a foray into the dark unknown, while also avoiding muggle attention across wide-open vistas. Also remarkable was the rain “falling” horizontally so that we got soaked thoroughly while standing in a parking lot beneath cloudless blue sky.
Skamania County, WA
We crossed the Hood River Bridge back into Washington to cache in Skamania County (the last one we needed to have met our personal goal to visit every county in the state). Our coordinates took us down the extremely scenic Highway 14 to a completely abandoned and unmaintained rest area. Moss-covered steps ascended to what must have once been a fenced terrace, possibly with walking trails to shaded tables and benches where early motorists took lunch and stretched legs on the long journey up or down the banks of the Columbia River. Perhaps there were once signs describing the region's history, or naming the myriad falls merrily cascading down the cliffsides and into the many tributaries on the Oregon side of the mighty Columbia. No remnant exists now, save a battered sign announcing the rest area, a tiny widening of the shoulder, and the crumbling steps.
Speaking of those waterfalls... There were a lot of them, and each more lovely than the one before. Had the skies remained blue and cloudless, we may never have reached Portland for the stops to take photos. I’m not sure if I intended the “thank goodness for the clouds and rain” I just implied, but those and the chill winds did keep us in the car more often than out. The call of nature, on the other hand, got us out of the car for a stop at Drano Lake that we may not have made otherwise. Fortunately, we always carry hand sanitizer, since there is no running water at this particular rest area. While I am also no stranger to the black-hole privy, this is the first I can recall that was ventilated in such a way as to air dry the bum. I imagine there are many stories about the hunted privies of Drano Lake among the youth of the region, as the wind through the ventilation moaned low and mournful until I snapped the lid closed.
We stopped once more in Skamania County to stretch our legs, find a cache, and eat some tarts. I completely understated why the Marionberry Tart is considered Oregon’s comfort food. There’s something just plain homey about buttery, flaky pastry crust and sweet-tart fruity filling. My grandmother never baked one in my lifetime, but for some reason the combination just felt like a late October morning, baking pies with Grandma in the oven older than my mother. It’s a good thing for my waistline that we only got one tart of that variety! Of course, we polished off the Walnut-Caramel tart, too. OMG! I’ll say that again, OMG! I think Raz repeated it about 5 or 6 times. Neither of us had ever had anything quite like the Walnut-Caramel Tart from Petite Provence before. We were tempted to drive all the way back to The Dalles for another. I cannot describe the experience without synesthesia. I swear that tart was the flavor of a perfect summer sunrise in Southern France. My taste buds sang and my stomach wept in joy.
Portland, OR
Let me back-track a bit to explain the part of the trip that did not go quite right. You see, the Hyundai Accent we picked up at SeaTac started making funny noises somewhere around Yakima County, WA. At first, each of us thought we were imagining it, but it got louder and louder every time we stopped for a cache or slowed down to take pictures. At full freeway speed, we couldn’t hear it over the road noise, and it stopped entirely between lunch and our break for tarts. It was so loud when we pulled in at the hotel in Portland that we researched the rental car locations to have it checked out. Here is where we give huge kudos to Budget. They traded the car that had us concerned for an alternate that did not have the issue. However, the identical Hyundai Accent had a problem with the 12 volt power outlet, and when we could no longer charge phones or run the GPS, we had to go back for a second exchange. Having no other Accents in stock, they upgraded us to a Kia Soul and got us back on our way. I know the manager thought I was downright barmy, but the gentlemen who assisted us was pleasant, polite, and helpful throughout. No issues whatsoever with the Kia, so I’ll just skip the hassles next time and upgrade if the subcompact option is an Accent.
We tested the Soul with a drive halfway across Portland to Kachka. This is apparently the “It” place on any night in Portland, and with good reason. Trusting again to Yelp reviewers, we ordered “Herring Under a Fur Coat”.
Bizarre as the name is, the dish itself is more so. It arrives as a cylindrical, free-standing, stratified tower with only its own top layer for garnish. It needs no more dressing than that, though. A creamy base of Yukon Gold potatoes supports a glossy, silver and green bar of herring with parsley, topped in turn with a brilliant orange layer of shredded carrot, over which rests a rosy round of beets. Then comes the pretty pink layer of beet mayonnaise, and finally concentric rings of egg white and egg yolk dotted with dill. I made strange faces when I first read the description, too. As I said, we ordered this only because so many reviewers insisted on trying it. I was completely expecting to be Tom Sawyered at the collective amusement of all Yelp readers. After all, I actually hate the fishy taste of most fish, and herring is a particularly fishy fish.
The young man bringing the dish from the kitchen, however, assured us that the best way to eat it was to make sure and get all the layers in each bite, and so I did. Magic happened then, and despite the incongruous ingredients, the result was an inexplicably perfect balance of flavor and texture. It is a testimonial to how much I love Raz that I restrained myself to finishing only half of the dish.
The assorted pickles were only sort of a hit with Raz. He found the beets and green tomatoes too sweet/not pickled enough. The cucumbers were just not his style at all, which was fine, because these were all precisely to my liking. I was so-so about the cabbage and the mushrooms (a bit on the sharp/sour side for me), but Raz thought they were awesome, and so the plate was cleaned. The charcuterie sent Raz on a joyful reminiscence about the salami of his youth. Russian style is very similar to Romanian it seems. He passed over the rye bread. Again, too sweet for him made perfection for me. The most impressive part of the meat and cheese board, however, was the mustard that packed more punch than even most wasabi I’ve tried. The server was understating when he warned about its potency! We continued with a rabbit sausage with raisins and walnut served with an incredible nut sauce, pickled fennel, and tiny slices of grapefruit that the menu described it as a “galantine”. I am not certain whether that was accurate about the presentation, all I know was I’ve never had anything like it, which was an unforgivable lapse on my part that has fortunately been remedied. We rounded the feast of Zakuski (appetizers) out with Cauliflower Schnitzel and Sour Cherry Vareniki. I’ve never before considered breading and frying steamed cauliflower or imagined what happens if you serve it with mayo mixed with turmeric and black sesame seeds. Turns out this combination is glorious and likely the only dish tonight I could possibly replicate at home. Vareniki are the Russian equivalent of uszka: mini dumplings. The tart cherries were real vişine, and the dish was topped with sour cream, so it was an awesome bridge between savory and sweet before we moved to desert. “Plombir Sandwiches” is what they call the slices of almond and grapefruit ice cream cake wedged between crispy almond-lace-waffle wafers. “Earl Grey tea milk caramel” is how they described the accompanying sauce that I am pretty sure is actually what the mythical nectar of the gods must have been. This may be due to Earl Grey and caramel both being on my short list of favorite things in the entire world, but I know full well that not everything blends well. I’m going to be experimenting at home, though, to see if it was just a matter of ingredients, or if there is some unknown magic going on in the kitchen at Kachka. Either way, it’s worth the 1,400-some-odd-mile trip from Albuquerque to Portland just to eat there.
We stayed the night at Portland Inn & Suites Airport East. A nicely renovated hotel, the lobby was the epitome of old fashioned elegance, complete with rich dark wood on the rails of the gracefully carved master staircase and along the second-floor mezzanine. The young man working the counter was obviously hurried and overworked, but he still managed to be polite and efficient. Our room was a lot of bang for our buck, likely because we were travelling before the standard tourist season. I use either Booking.com or Air B&B to make all our lodging arrangements, and I tend to find some pretty good deals. This, however, was the first I’ve made through Booking.com that actually charged me less at the desk than the estimated cost from the website. It was only a dollar, but it was still a nice surprise. We had a full king suite for what I expect to spend on a room half this size with a single full-sized mattress. Knowing this, I didn’t mind in the least that the material on the bottom of the couch was lightly frayed. The couch itself was comfy, the fridge was functioning quietly and well, so we were able chill our remaining tarts and our travel beverages here. The bed was downright dreamy, and the shower had sufficient pressure that I felt clean after, even with the softened water that I usually despise. Raz and I were out cold without even testing the giant flat-screen TV.
Portland Inn & Suites Airport East advertises a full hot breakfast, by which it appears they mean a continental breakfast spread and a make-your-own-waffle station. Again, this was more than we expected for the price, so it’s not a complaint, just an observation. Either way, it wasn’t what Raz and I were after for the morning meal, so we had our remaining tarts instead. The lemon was quite run-of-the mill, which means I loved it and Raz was unimpressed. We both agreed that the apricot was better, though it was nowhere near the level of the caramel-walnut of the day before.
We were very pleasantly surprised at the lack of road noise in the Kia as we hit the freeway before 7 AM. As we stopped for our first cache in the little community of Durham, we looked back at the Portland-bound I-5 parking lot and congratulated ourselves for out habit of leaving early on caching days. This was a purposefully short trip, as I have few vacation days saved at the moment, but we left Portland with determination to return and stay while. We saw little of the city itself, and we need to remedy that.
What we did see was a great deal of were rolling green fields, towering evergreens and adorable fluffy sheep getting ready the spring shearing. Most of us who live in the urban jungles of this continent, with their dense steel and concrete thickets and creeping asphalt groundcover, forget that most of our land area is composed of sparsely populated agricultural concerns and wilderness, protected or simply abandoned. Land of the latter sort at home tends to be ravaged by Russian thistles and thorn vine and only slowly reclaimed by the desert. Here anything even momentarily neglected seems to sport a soft carpet of moss and be quickly submerged in a sea of blackberries. The lush greens rushing by our windows appear lovingly kept for their fluffy occupants. Here and there we also spy a vineyard or orchard sprouting new leaf and bud. It’s easy to appreciate all of this green and verdure because it’s novel to us. Just as we stopped to photograph snow flurries, we pause here and there to admire the farms.
We are well aware that the endless cloud cover and soaking rains necessary to make such lushness are weather we could never endure, so we appreciate it while we’re here, and look forward to drying our when we get home.
Sutherlin, OR
And speaking of home, I was thoroughly tickled to see NM Hatch chili pridefully displayed on the menu of the little sandwich shop we visited in Sutherlin, OR. We did not order the Ham & Hatch, but my State Pride flared at seeing it. Alas, that was all we were pleased with. Again, we chose our stopping point based on stellar Yelp reviews. That may have actually gone against us here. Nellie’s Deli had a full 5-star rating, but on close inspection of the reviews later, I realized that every one of them based that in some part on the cozy, intimate experience of the tiny lunch-counter-stand, Nellie’s winning personality, or the convenience of location from the freeway exit. We went to said location, which was still listed on Yelp only to find a hand-scrawled note on a closed building informing us of the new location. All thriving endeavors suffer growing pains, and this was unfortunately no exception. The line out the door when we arrived, and the large and crowded dining hall heightened our anticipation and expectations of the little lunch counter. Alas, there was no sign of the eponymous Nellie, as she was hidden in the giant kitchen learning to delegate the arrangement of her signature dishes. Between us, Raz and I split the Beet & Goat Cheese Salad, the Trailblazer Sandwich, and a “bowl” of Albondigas soup. In fairness to the restaurant, nothing was bad. The ingredients were fresh, high quality, and selected with care. The counter staff were rushed and hurried, but still polite, and the portions to price where exactly what I would have expected from a popular and independent restaurant. There was, however, nothing left of the widely praised intimacy and personality of the old tiny food stand. I would liken the experience to getting all dressed up for family dinner at grandma’s house, only to be taken to the neighborhood block party and given a box of take-out. It doesn’t matter if the top chef in the world is handing out the boxes, there’s no recovering from the failure to meet expectation.
On the other hand, the foray through Sutherlin, which we would have not otherwise made, yielded the gem of The Book Gallery, an independent used book store/coffee house. We picked up a little healthy, gluten free and vegan concoction they called the “Monkey Bar” for dessert. That was a particularly exciting crumbly, crunchy, nutty and fruity travel pastry. Had we been locals, I’ve no doubt that we would spend endless hours in the various carefully curated reading nooks, exploring the mysteries and treasuries hidden on every bookshelf. We once had shops like this in Albuquerque, but none of them survived Amazon. Seeing one still standing and potentially thriving was an unexpected balm to the soul.
Siskiyou County, CA
We pass through myriad towns of various sizes before reaching the dramatic peaks and valleys of the Cascade Range. As soon as the terrain stops being flat, the tidy towns and cheery fields abruptly end in towering stands of pine and aspen. As we cross over the California border, we notice a complete cessation of the blackberry bramble nearly ubiquitous in Washington and Oregon. The valleys are a bit drier, and the towering forests have little-to-no undergrowth crowding under their wide canopies, whether evergreen, barren, or freshly sprouting new bright green leaves. As we round the first leg of mountains and gaze across the wide valley below, we see Shasta in the distance, rising mighty and white, the dual crests of Shasta and Shastina appearing almost to float in the haze of grey/blue/purple that is a combination of distance and cloud cover making land indistinguishable from sky. Seeing a sign for Vista Point, we exit to take our time and safely revel in the stark beauty of the distant peaks, as well as the gold/green valleys and green/purple foothills in the foreground. Since we’re stopped anyway, I bow to my techie nature and whip out my pocket-sized link to the Internet to see if there is a cache about to mark our impromptu stop. Of course there is! Moments later, after a brief walk and some searching out of the eyes of the flock of other tourists stopping behind us to admire purple mountains majesty and fruited plains, we recover our prize. Leaving no damage to the beautiful space, we make a mark to show we were here and hide the treasure for the next wanderer to find. We cannot help but stop again and again as we near Mt. Shasta to take new photos with new angles and foreground. Pulling the Internet from my pocket again, I read to Raz about the myths and legends of this mountain. He is particularly fascinated by the tales of the underground city, and the lost civilization housed therein. I read more about Lemurians in that last leg of the trip into Mt. Shasta city than I ever knew existed before the trip.
Mount Shasta, CA
It is, I think, vital to note that we did not see any Lemurians, nor experience any inexplicable phenomena while visiting Mt. Shasta city. What we did encounter was a friendly, helpful, innkeeper at the Mt. Shasta Inn & Suites, who gave us knowledgeable recommendation on local dining. As in Portland, off-season travel paid dividends. Again, we had a king suite and this time it was not only sparkly clean, it looked freshly furnished, smelled like clean linens and fresh pine, and had a soft but firm bed that was the epitome of comfort.
Following the innkeeper’s recommendation, we went to Hari Om Shri Ram for dinner. The proprietor greeted us as we stepped in, and invited us to a discussion on the menu and choice of our own table. He asked us about our travels and struck up a good conversation with Raz. It was very much like catching up with a distant cousin we hadn’t seen for a while. Of course, there was also an un-dubbed, un-subbed Bollywood film playing on the large flat-screen over the bar that immediately grabbed my attention. I could only understand about 3 words every 5 scenes or so, when someone tossed in a little English dialogue, but the action and romance plots were incredibly easy to follow. There were greater socio-political sub-plots and obvious cultural commentary that I could not quite parse, but in the way of Telemundo’s telenovelas, the melodramatic acting made even what was intended as subtle interchange obvious enough for me to realize there was a detail worth paying attention to. The frequent musical montages didn’t hurt either. So engrossed was I that I didn’t even notice that we had waited 30 minutes for our Butter Chicken and Chicken Tikka Masala, nor the full hour for out Garlic Naan until the proprietor apologized for our wait and explained the process of heating the oven for the naan. Even had I been impatiently chewing on my napkin the whole time, the wait would have been worth it. Having tried versions of garlic naan from London and San Diego, I can honestly state that this was unique. It was simultaneously crispy and fluffy soft. The garlic, butter, green onion and basil baked into the top of this bread were a divinely inspired combination and somehow still worked with the remaining sauces of both the Butter Chicken and Tikka Masala. I also watched in fascination as one man offered a complete stranger his still-unfinished order of naan about 45 minutes into the process, since the stranger had time constraints the original restaurant patron did not. The stranger accepted, thanked his benefactor, and the two struck up a conversation that delved deep into philosophy, metaphysics, and the fundamental concepts of goodness. They were still deep in their conversation when both orders of naan arrived, and they had not finished by the time Raz and I left for out night's lodging. The proprietor of the Hari Om Shri Ram took this in stride as though it happened regularly, while I scratched my head about it all the way to the hotel.
Our last leg of the trip was also the shortest, so we took our time getting up and out for the day. Even so, most of Mt. Shasta was not up yet or open when we hit the road at 7 AM. Seven Suns Coffee & Tea was the exception, and we stopped there for some pastries on our way out. Their scones are like giant cookies, which makes for a texture like a scone through the center and biscotti on the edges. Quite an interesting, but tasty experiment, and a real hit with us both. As soon as we got on the highway out of town to the west, we lost Internet connection on both phones. We were therefore searching blindly through the woods without hope of hint of clue for the geocaches we had determined to search for prior to making the trip. We fortunately did not find ourselves on the wrong sides of any poisonous plants, hungry critters, or ill-tempered locals, which is always a consideration in caching through new areas. Usually, internet in our pockets keeps us out of trouble, but it’s nice to know we can still function without it from time to time. Plus, our out-of-the way caching led us to find the single biggest pinecone we had ever seen!
It looked nothing like the cones in the surroundings forest, so we are unsure where it traveled from to pose for our pictures, but we were happy to find it.
Alturas, CA
We were also glad to find Internet signal again in Alturas, CA, so we could find lunch after a busy morning of short hikes and turning over boulders. We stopped at Rubio’s Taqueria entirely for the off-street parking and the good vintage point to take pictures of the mission-style BPOE Lodge across the street. They had middle-of-the-road ratings on Yelp and Google, and being from the chili capital of the world, we tend not to stop in any other area for anything calling itself Mexican, Tex-Mex, or Southwestern cuisine. We were pleasantly surprised by the breakfast burrito and street tacos at Rubio’s. I don’t think of California as adding enough spice to anything, but the Carne Asada in the breakfast burrito was rich enough in flavor that I didn’t miss the capsaicin bite, and the Pollo and Pastor street tacos each packed a pleasant kick with well-blended flavors. I did not taste tabasco in anything, which is always an indication that the restaurant cares for quality.
Sierra County, CA
We reduced our number of planned stops after Alturas because the high winds made it just a little too unpleasant outside. We did, however, make the pause for the single accessible cache in Sierra County, along this route. It’s a mark of how much Raz loves me that he parked half a mile from grand zero and hiked through 50 mph winds just so the rental could be completely off highway and shoulder in compliance with my paranoia about parking too close to traffic. It was a good find, though, and a beautiful area, despite the winds. It was also our last stop before the evening’s lodging.
Reno, NV
We both find it funny that for two people who don’t gamble, we end up in casinos a lot. For the off-season travel, though, Atlantis Resort/Casino/Spa had the best price, and greatest convenience to the airport. The buffet wasn’t bad either. The food quality was about 10% better than any of the casinos back home in Albuquerque, and the price was about 10% less, so we dined in and spent the evening relaxing before the 3:45 AM alarms went off to get out the door and onto the first flight home. We didn't take advantage of any of the possible spa treatments, nor the pool. Should we ever come through this way again, I will remedy that, because it really is a very nice casino resort.
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