The Planet Portland Saga: Have a bit of Solstice with your Cider

It’s the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. One of those days that beacon ceremony. In the midst of one of the more indulgent weekend I’ve had in over a month, I am intent on cultivating some semblance of sacred homage. I’ve once again coaxed yoga back to my body as a daily staple. In the last month, it has become as impulsive as morning coffee and the morning coffee in turn, retired to an un-temptable high kitchen shelf. My soul is still goddess knows where, beneath the skin cells, muscles and tendons. Or beyond. My breath still lives perched in the shallows of my collarbone, like a baby bird trying to jump nest without wings; if you leave home unprepared, you’re risking great injury. But at least my body shows up every day. It is a start. 

So being in Portland for a weekend, I am like a kid in a candy shop as I peruse the mother load of studios. I’m not in the boonies anymore. Yogi is probably like some evolutionary/adaptive gene you automatically inherit if you live in Portland, and they know it. Good luck finding a studio under $15 drop-in. I scan over half a dozen websites - waxing calm and sophisticated with traditional class titles, highly motif-ed with the intimidating sanskrit names, and contemporary and overenthusiastic with non-descript class titles like “hot lava” and “Jammin’”. I am skeptical of the “hip” lingo but that studio is one of the closest so I investigate YoYoYogi further and opt for the “Jammin’” class after the description of the instructor wins me over with the credentials of having trained under my latest inspiration, Ana Forrest.  

Far too familiar with the complications of downtown driving and parking in Portland, I’m eager to head out early. Sure enough, after thinking I’ve escaped the curse and finding easy street parking across from the building, I am confounded by the technicalities of the pay machine and end up paying double for the measly 1.5 hours, a misunderstanding that has me rushing into the studio room to happen upon at least 30 people quietly bent deep into a child’s pose.I am the last that could have possible fit in the room and roll out my mat cornered next to an awkwardly angled wall. 

Logistics behind me, the class is refreshing. I am infused with a new kind of motivation among so many yogis. Jill integrates Forrest words of wisdom and I wonder if this is what her classes feel like. Jill almost looks like her. The poses go deep - warriors and moons, challenging my legs. The salutations grow, starting slow in each pose and becoming swift, fluid motions. At the end of the class, I feel like I’ve shed a bit of dust. I make a somewhat counter decision to go around the corner and break my coffee hiatus but it feels relaxed. I take some time to write. 

Morning portion of the solstice observation concluded, it is time for a bit more happy hour. I pick everyone up at the house and we head back down for our last day of the Summit. I look at my single pathetic, worn complementary ticket, the last of the eight we started with the day before.  We head to the tent to buy more. Today I have looked at the book. I have read the listings and made a list. I have missions. The day must conclude with eliminating at least half a dozen from the list of possible cider purchase options. But there are also more I am curious about. 

Their truck in front of me on the way back from yoga.
Little did I know that they would become significant in my
life later that day : ) 

I imagine the drier-sounding ones are best to start with so we head to the tent for Atlas which claimed an Apricot cider, reeling me in with weird flavors once again. 

Atlas is an instant favorite. I am curious about the Apricot and the Elderberry so they give me a free sample of one, leaving me wiggle room to try both. The Apricot is incredible. Unlike most of the other fruit alternatives, I can actually taste all of the subtleties of the Apricot fruit. Even though it is a drier cider, this makes it very palatable. It goes on my shopping list. 


We head to Virtue Cider next, which I had failed to notice until that morning is from Fennville, MI (my farmy home away from home from my time at Kismet). Not only are they from right down the road but they seemed to know Mari well. My face lights up, feeling tingling for home. I chat with them for a while. Their "Mitten" cider is crisp and tastes like green apples rather than red, although they use Macintosh, Red Delicious and another red variety. I am told this is because of the unfermented juice used and the barrels it is aged in. 

The last on my list of curiosities is Blue Mountain's Cherry. The man behind the table greets me with "Welcome Back!" and I insist that I was never there. He insists I was and I wonder how much I've drunk. We move past it and I extend my glass for the Cherry. Taste-blown again! "You guys have the first cherry cider I have actually enjoyed."Andrew is a friendly guy and despite my apparent memory lapse, carries on a nice conversation about the process and the farm. He is one of the family members, roped into a business of cider making that has been around since the 50's "long before many of these other guys." The family owns 1,300 acres of farm all in one spot in Walla Walla where they grow all of their fruit. "Come on through sometime and we'll show you around. I give the tours!" 






I have a few extra tickets so I get a treat that ends up getting put on my shopping list. The folks at Carlton Ciderworks are almost as energized as their whacky sumo-wrestling logo, a temporary alteration to their original British ruffians in a fight, as a way to promote their Asian Pear flavor (is that...wrong?) What is their most popular though, is the Auld Lang Spice so I fill my cup and experience another slice of pie. 

We mingle a bit longer after our tickets are out, lovin' on the plethora of furry canine friends about and chatting up their owners. We also run into our teammate Mackensie who had been the reason I knew about the summit at all. 

Our last stop is the "gift shop". The verdict is in and I have settled on four bottles: 

-Anthem's Apricot
-Blue Mountain's Cherry
-Portland Cider Company's 'Sorta Sweet' (which I totally forgot to put in my notes to write about but they were delicious and their sweet was perfect because they use only fresh squeezed juice and nothing else to sweeten.)
-Carlton's Auld Lang Spice

I am anticipating a drum circle that I had found online to celebrate the Solstice and try out my new drum but we have some time and the others are vibin' on some pool so we head in the way of the drum park and keep our eyes out for a tavern. We do find one with 75-cent games and play a couple. I can't decide if I am hungry but there is nothing quite suitable there for me anyhow so I feel kind of side-tracked. Pool is fun though, and Tony DJ's the tunes with some well-loved classics. By the time we leave, I am definitely ready for some drumming so I enter temporary grump mode when we are confronted with a sea of carnival fare and birthday parties at the park I have an address for. I scrounge around back on the site and find a new address posted so we rush out, leading another lost car along with us. 

At the circle, my three friends venture to find something they are more inclined towards and I grab some potluck grub and settle in. As I finish my food, I catch eyes with a familiar face - family from the Montana gathering! We embrace and then get ready to drum. A space is made for me by Elo who becomes new friend. Beautiful souls dance. They sing. They chant. They drum. As I learn to get comfortable, my hands go back and forth from being possessed with rhythm and then sometimes floundering a little as I become to aware and try to change it. At the end, my hands hurt blissfully. 

I drive to meet the gang at the Limelight bar down the street and am convinced to stay for a game of pool. The atmosphere is of a fun, local beat. Portland artist have the works featured on every once of wall and the outside of the building dons quirky murals. I find a novel cocktail to sip through the game, a chai Russian made with in-house chai and soy (near impossible to find a Kahlua drink/"cream" drink veganized!) 

The night air is warm and we mingle outside for a bit longer before finally making all of our party to the car. Time becomes more ambiguous as the void of day lengthens. The summer effect takes hold.