“Let ’er buck!” And with that shout from the crowd out the chute comes the first bronc and rider to start the Pendleton Round-Up for the day. It was a glorious day, too, just the right temperature to sit in the covered stands for several hours and watch the sights and absorb the sounds of one of the nation’s top rodeos.

The whole experience started with our trip from Redmond to Hermiston where we stayed a few nights with friends. Probably couldn’t have found a motel room near Pendleton on rodeo week, so fortunate for us we had a “B and B” friend’s place to stay.

The trip itself got us in the mood for our very first Pendleton Round-up. We stopped at Shaniko and snapped a few pictures of the wooden cowpokes on the porch of the Shaniko hotel. Then next door for a cup of hot chocolate to go. The grandma-type proprietor set the microwave too high or too long, or both, and the tasty liquid spilled over the cup. She let out an expletive and quickly apologized by asking, “you didn’t hear that did you?” We of course did hear it and got a big laugh as she removed the overflowing culprit.

From Shaniko we moved on through Kent, Grass Valley and Moro to stop for lunch at Biggs Junction. The scenery changed dramatically from High Desert dry land to power producing windmills and the mighty Columbia Gorge and river as we sped off to “the Herm,” as we call Hermiston.

The next day was the biggy, the rodeo itself. I have never seen so many vendors, mostly handmade jewelry and rodeo souvenirs and clothing, but one local lady had painted a portrait of her vision of a male Cayuse Native American in full regalia that we couldn’t resist. It now adorns a place of honor in our house.

When the rodeo itself started, we were ready for the usual riding, roping and barrel racing, but were taken with the creativity and skill of Native American bare-back riders in what was billed as Indian relay races. One jockey, one handler, three horses for each of three teams. The teams were from local tribes, Pendleton and Warm Springs, and some from Washington state. Three different times during the day we enjoyed the break of those races that put a lot of pep into an already peppy sport of rodeo.

The following day we went to Walla Walla with stops at Frenchtown Historical Site, where Metis or French-Canadian trappers settled with their native wives as early as 1823. Nearby is the Whitman Mission National Historic Site, which is a must see if you are near Walla Walla. We walked the trail around restored markers of foundations where actual buildings once stood. Very informative rangers provided history lessons in detail.

In Walla Walla itself, we ate at Fast Eddy’s Drive-in, burgers and shakes like you wouldn’t believe. Then back to the Herm to rest up from our travels.

With our interest in things historic, we left the next day for Baker City and enjoyed the Oregon Trail Interpretive Center. Even saw a flintlock demonstration by a ranger. The city itself is full of interesting places with historic significance, and yet it is alive with modern energy. Many buildings from the early 1900s and some before that exist, including the restored Geiser Hotel, St. Thomas de Sales Catholic Cathedral, made of stone and filled with some of the most outstanding stained glass windows I have ever seen.

Finally headed westward toward home, we followed the Powder River upstream to Sumpter where we eye-balled the huge dredge that plowed up acre after acre of the valley in search for gold some 100 years ago. Not the beautiful pristine sight we next saw as we came into the John Day valley.

A stop at Mitchell for coffee and Kimberly peach cobbler and we were fueled up for the final push home. After nearly 600 miles of wandering around the fringe of the High Desert, it was a Dorothy Gail of Kansas moment, “there’s no place like home.”

— Miles Hutchins is a retired Redmond resident who grew up in Central Oregon. Contact him at milesredmond@gmail.com.