Strolling Portland and Loving It to the MAX

When the doors of the MAX light-rail train whooshed closed, my husband and I settled contentedly into our seats. Steps from baggage claim at Portland International Airport, we had bought two tickets from a machine ($3.10 total), strolled to a train and skipped the whole nonsense of renting a car, waiting for a bus or catching a costly cab.

We were bound for downtown Portland, one of my favorite places. I love its vibrant streets, its restaurants, its stores. Last fall, Portland became the first city on the West Coast to extend a light-rail system to its airport; the ride into downtown on the new MAX Red Line is only about 35 minutes. So when a weekend opened up on our calendar, we figured, why not head to the Northwest, footloose and car free?

The MAX, or Metropolitan Area Express, with its clean cars and wide aisles for luggage, proved a great way into the city. Though it made several stops, the train allowed us to rubberneck without careening off the road. As the MAX crossed the Willamette River, the Portland skyline glowed under a bright sun, and joggers and bikers below us filled waterfront paths.

I started getting excited at the familiar scene. My parents live 10 miles outside Portland, and our favorite activity when we stay with them is to drive into downtown and play. We bounded off the train by the Pioneer Place Shopping Center on Morrison Street and headed to our hotel, the 5th Avenue Suites, two short blocks away.

Portland’s planners long ago figured that to make their city appealing--one to walk through and be experienced--they would shorten the blocks. So while many city blocks around the country are at least 400 feet long, Portland’s are half that, making for a wonderfully walkable city.

Shops, galleries and restaurants fill downtown, and street corners are especially attractive spots because they lure people from more than one direction. And if lively retail weren’t enough, Portland added other small but fun diversions to its streets, such as drinking fountains that burble endlessly.

Then there’s “Portland’s Living Room,” also known as Pioneer Courthouse Square, a sunken brick plaza where skateboarders, musicians, chess players and coffee sippers hang out at all hours.

Russ and I dropped off our bags at the hotel and walked about eight of those short blocks to another Portland hangout, the Saturday Market in the Skidmore area of Old Town. The MAX runs right by the market (Skidmore Fountain stop), which bills itself as the nation’s largest continually operating open-air market. Parents pushed strollers, teens lingered and tourists like us wandered among the crafts, studying jewelry made with Mt. St. Helens ash and other novelties.

Despite its reputation, Portland actually gets less rain than such cities as Atlanta and Houston. When the sun is out--as it was our whole weekend--so is everyone.

We wandered to the small park fronting the Willamette River and eyed the new 1 1/2-mile Esplanade on the east bank across the way. Part of the riverside path floats in the water. Portland’s active set can complete a three-mile loop by crossing a couple of the city’s historic bridges. We had hoped to be this active, but it was hot.

So back to the hotel we went to cool off and get ready for dinner. The 5th Avenue was pleasant, our large suite ($119 plus tax per night) welcoming. The bedroom had a view of snowcapped Mt. Hood, and the living room was large enough that we could host my parents, who drove in to join us.

We walked a few blocks to what has become our favorite restaurant, Jake’s Grill, a smaller version of Jake’s Famous Crawfish, an 1892 Portland landmark a few blocks away. Dark wood gives the Grill a clubby atmosphere, but big windows looking onto the street bring light. The bar is lively and the wait staff attentive. We did the Northwest fish thing--grilled salmon salad, stuffed trout--with a berry cobbler for dessert.

Sunday we walked a few blocks to Mother’s Bistro & Bar for brunch. The restaurant is in an old, high-ceilinged building decorated inside with framed prints of mothers. The atmosphere was suitably Portland funky, and we briefly thought about coming back for dinner, where the menu tends toward comfort foods such as pot roast, meatloaf and macaroni and cheese.

Well fortified, we walked back to a MAX stop and bought tickets for a ride to the Oregon Zoo. This time I didn’t read the machine quite right and ended up shelling out a buck or two extra for “all zones” tickets.

MAX has two lines: the five-mile Red Line to the airport and the 33-mile Blue Line between Hillsboro and Gresham, both looping through downtown. Fares are based on zones; the farther you go, the more it costs. The core of downtown, though, is “Fareless Square,” where riders pay nothing to hop on and off MAX between the Oregon Convention Center to the east and 10th Avenue to the west.

We rolled past brick buildings and green trees, entered a tunnel through Portland’s volcanic rock West Hills, then got off at the Blue Line’s Washington Park stop, the deepest transit station in the country at 260 feet underground.

The day had grown gorgeous--sunny and in the 70s--and the air was forest fresh. We wandered through the zoo for a couple of hours, watching fruit bats hanging upside-down gnawing cantaloupe, and musk ox hanging out beside their own stream.

Inside the zoo we boarded a small steam train to cross Forest Park, 5,000 hilly acres overlooking the city. Ferns crowded the forest floor, and trees towered above us. It was as though we were deep in the woods, not minutes from the city. At the train’s halfway point, we got off and explored the city’s renowned rose garden--9,000 plants glowing in pink, red, yellow, mauve and salmon.

Then it was back to the MAX, where we got off at PGE Park at 18th Avenue and Morrison Street. With two $5 general admission tickets, we sat and watched the Beavers, Portland’s minor-league baseball team, play in front of an enthusiastic crowd. With a cold, locally brewed beer and a coffee, it was a great break. We were fanned by a pleasant breeze and caught up in the fun with 8,000 cheering fans.

We had made dinner plans before coming, a good idea because the hot restaurants--many of them small bistros--fill up on weekends. Northwest Portland has its trendy eateries, while the up-and-coming Pearl District also has hot spots. Both of those scenes are within walking distance of the public Portland Streetcar, which runs north-south across the city.

But around the block from our hotel was Typhoon, a restaurant tucked into the Hotel Lucia, one of the city’s new boutique lodgings. We thought our pad Thai, stir-fried eggplant in black bean sauce and pineapple shrimp some of the best Thai food we had eaten recently.

In the morning we darted into a Starbucks, one of five coffee shops steps from the hotel lobby (and all were busy!), then walked to Powell’s City of Books on West Burnside Street--a reason in itself to go to Portland. Among the city’s biggest draws, Powell’s is one of the largest independent bookstores in the world, with hundreds of subject categories from “activism” to “zines” spread throughout nine large, color-coded rooms that take up a city block.

Printed maps are offered to shoppers as soon as they walk in. (You can download the map at powells.com before you go and plan your shopping spree.) We’ve spent hours here, sometimes sitting with coffee in the store’s cafe, but mostly roaming. Powell’s also has a free walking map of the city that guides you past notable buildings, bridges and parks.

But we had to go. We ate our goodbye meal at Higgins, a popular restaurant on Broadway, where the kitchen turns out dishes with a Northwest bent. I had pasta with a hazelnut pesto, which sounded odd but was delicious.

We collected our bags from the hotel, dawdled those two short blocks to the MAX (we didn’t want to leave) and soon were riding back to the airport. (I might have to go back sooner than I thought; air fares have dropped since our visit, and persistent bargain hunters can probably find two round-trip tickets in the neighborhood of $300.)

As we stood, finally, curbside at the Burbank airport, breathing in bus fumes, I looked a little longingly into the distance. Was that a light-rail train coming our way or just a shuttle bus caught in the glare?

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Budget for Two

Round-trip air fare, Burbank-Portland...$462.00

5th Avenue Suites, two nights...265.38

Dinner, Jake’s Grill...67.30

Brunch, Mother’s...24.40

Admission, zoo and train...20.50

Admission, Beavers game...10.00

Dinner, Typhoon...50.80

Other food...15.20

Lunch, Higgins...29.25

MAX fare...11.80

FINAL TAB...$956.63

5th Avenue Suites, 506 S.W. Washington St., Portland, OR 97204; (866) 861-9514, fax (503) 222-0004, www.5thavenuesuites.com.

MAX light rail, TriMet, (503) 238-7433, www.tri-met.org/schedule/r090.htm.

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Jennifer Lowe is deputy editor of the Food section.