Hermiston Highlights

Jill's Journal: I loved, loved, loved this deserted, broken-down old ranch on the side of the road. The girls and I were singing along to Toby Keith’s “Should’ve Been a Cowboy” when we drove by this place. It just seemed to fit and I quickly pulled over for a photo (or 12, as Rob teased me later when he saw the series of pictures).

We’ve learned a little about Hermiston’s history. In the 1860s and 1870s, it was known as Six Mile House. The only thing here was an old West hotel, a saloon, and a feed barn for horses and mules. It was simply a stopping point for weary travelers on their way elsewhere.

Hermiston didn’t become an official town until 1907. It got its name from Robert Louis Stevenson’s novel, “The Weir of Hermiston.”

“Hermiston…is no place to visit for fun and relaxation. Getting to it entails a six-mile drive from Interstate 84 through potato, watermelon, and wheat fields, only to find a city center replete with stacks of hogwire, Powder River fences, creosote-covered corner posts, and livestock chutes in a farm equipment lot.

“This is a working town,” said longtime Hermiston City Manager Ed Brookshier. “Most people come here to work.” –The Oregonian

We see this a lot in Northeastern Oregon. Major love. I’ve yet to see any place that can’t be improved by horses.

We also see cattle, lots of cattle. I briefly thought these were Dutch Belts until I saw the ranch sign…they’re BueLingos! My Dad probably knows exactly what they are, but I’d never heard of them so I had to look them up. Interestingly, they’re actually a beef breed derived from (dairy) Dutch Belts and developed in North Dakota. I realize I just lost all but about two people who read this blog in the second sentence of this paragraph, but I can’t help it. Toby Keith should’ve been a cowboy; I should’ve majored in animal husbandry instead of business. :)

Hermiston Melons…they’re here! They’re everywhere. Tomorrow we will attend our first-ever “Watermelon Fest.”

Three little girls paying rapt attention to their Daddy’s instruction in an impromptu game of mini-golf after dinner. It was adorable while it lasted. Within minutes, we heard three voices in chorus, “I can do it myself.” And we had to duck while golf clubs swung. There will be no golfing pros coming out of this family.