Day 32: Eugene to Ashland and Dog-Friendly Dining

I woke up early with one goal in mind: pack quickly and get on the road toward Ashland. I moved quietly, careful not to disturb my host whose door was still closed. By 9:30 a.m., I had my things in the car and was on my way out. It felt like a small relief that the uncomfortable conversation from the night before hadn’t escalated to the point where I needed to leave in the middle of the night. Still, the experience was enough for me to decide that shared-home Airbnbs are not for me. Before pulling away, I sent her a thank-you message in the app—more out of closure than courtesy—and turned my focus toward the rest of my travels.

Part of the reason I had extended my stay in Eugene was the chance to see the Saturday Market, the world’s oldest farmers market. Dogs aren’t allowed, but I thought a quick drive through would at least give me a glimpse. From the street, though, it didn’t look all that different from the markets back home.

The drive south was long but beautiful, following the curves of the highway along green valleys and hillsides. By the time I reached Roseburg, on the banks of the Umpqua River, I realized how hungry I was—I’d skipped dinner the night before. Max also needed a break, so we walked around the town, stretched our legs. A few restaurants caught my eye, but none were open for lunch. The small farmers market in town looked inviting, but the midday heat made it too much for both of us.

I pressed on toward Ashland, hoping to arrive in time for a late lunch. Downtown was lively and packed, and after circling without luck, I finally found parking a few blocks away on Main Street in front of a cute, french bistro with patio seating. The only problem—it was ten minutes from closing. I hesitated, thinking I’d missed my chance.

Then the door swung open, and a warm, smiling woman stepped outside. “We saw your dog from inside and wanted to see if we could pet him,” she said. Max was instantly showered with affection. “You can tell we love dogs,” they laughed, and in that small moment, I felt a wave of kindness and hospitality that balanced out the coolness I’d felt the night before. When I asked about lunch, they assured me it wasn’t too late and welcomed me in.

The food was delicious, and their generosity lifted my spirits. I ordered enough to leave a generous tip, not just for the meal but for the kindness that came with it.

Afterward, I checked into my hotel. The pristine bathroom and quiet room felt like a gift. I showered, unpacked, and drifted into a nap that lasted until dark. Later, I took Max for a walk around the hotel grounds and found a small Mexican restaurant nearby. Though still full from lunch, I ordered a light bite and brought back leftovers for the next morning’s breakfast.

The rest of the evening was spent planning ahead. I searched for lodging near Redwood National Park and chose an Airbnb with the rare luxury of a washer and dryer. While on the app, I noticed last night’s host had read but not replied to my thank-you message. The truth was, the stay hadn’t been pleasant for either of us. There were more details I could have written about yesterday, but I’d rather leave them unsaid. No need to invite bad karma.