Why did Portland send sandwiches by rowboat? Who put giant trolls in Washington's forests? And why does an Oregon coast town have a Kraken? I'm Larie. I follow the people behind the stories, check the facts, and bring back places you can actually go see.
True stories. Actual places. Unreasonable curiosity.
Here for dinner, a day trip, a little wonder or an actual plan for Saturday? Pick a door. I'll show you what I've found.
We recently moved to Portland from New York, and though we occasionally crave the kind of attentive dining that city does so well, we’ve outgrown the white-tablecloth hush and performative service. What we want now — and rarely find — is that golden middle: a place that makes you feel cared for without asking you to pretend you’re not still a person in shoes. Terra Mae is that place.
Real upcoming dates, not last month's festival wearing a fake mustache. Events are sorted by their start date; check the organizer before making the drive.
Two unrelated species can apparently arrive at the same ridiculous design. Paleontologist Nico Spadafora explains nature's habit of repeating itself, fossils and all, in a theater with a pub.
Ornaments inspired by celebrations from around the world, including Krampus and La Befana. Artists were given size and price limits. Their imaginations apparently received no such memo.
Historic houses, paranormal speakers and night investigations in buildings old enough to have stories. You don't have to believe in ghosts to love the history of a room.
More than 50 events, gallery receptions, art demos and live performances. An entire coastal town has decided November weather is an artistic medium.
A wall of more than 200 locally collected fungi, experts who can tell them apart, and optional identification hikes. Never eat a mystery mushroom because somebody on the internet said it looked friendly.
Science Saturday turns a museum full of undersea history into a place to code bots and solve mazes. The word 'homework' is not invited.
There's the night I stopped hiding at a spa, the guy helping Portlanders spend less, and a 90-ton rock that arrived inside an iceberg. Some made me laugh. A few made me cry. All earned a place.
I’ve spent most of my adult life trying to shrink into spaces that weren’t built for women like me — not just physically, but emotionally. I’ve stood in dressing rooms avoiding mirrors. I’ve untagged photos. I’ve chosen the towel instead of the pool. And I’ve told myself, silently and constantly, maybe when I lose the weight, I’ll deserve it. But something changed the day I walked into Cascada, Portland’s subterranean thermal spa tucked under the Alberta Arts District. I didn’t come there loo
At some point, 18 giant wooden trolls stop being public art and become a logistics problem. So I mapped the whole ridiculous thing: all 18, what’s free, what needs a tram, where the ferries ruin your confidence, and how I’d actually do it.
I thought I was reporting grocery prices. Then Bryan Vance answered my email and accidentally made himself the story. Inside the 12–14-hour weekly system behind Stumptown Savings—and the rules that can actually lower your grocery bill.
By a new Portlander discovering the city’s rhythm for the first time --- Waterfront Blues Festival 2025 When I moved to Portland this spring, I didn’t realize the city had a pulse. Not just noise or busyness, but a rhythm—something living beneath the bridges, behind the trees, under the streets. Everyone kept saying, Wait till summer.I didn’t know what that meant. I assumed it had to do with sunshine and bike lanes. And then July 4th came. I found myself on a riverbank, barefoot in the grass,...
There’s a 90-ton rock sitting quietly in Oregon that came here from more than 500 miles away inside an iceberg. I love facts that make the landscape feel temporary.
I had one question about Portland's nine-foot shark date night: nobody killed a shark for a party, right? Inside the real science and the people it supports.
In Portland, tiny houses came with asking prices, negotiations and volunteer agents. Behind the joke was a community that builds home one tiny detail at a time.
Portland taught me to look down. Those metal rings in the curb were once horse parking. Then one artist added a tiny plastic horse and the city did the rest.
Longview saw squirrels getting killed crossing a road in 1963 and responded with a suspension bridge. Then the city kept building them until ‘squirrel infrastructure’ became an identity.
I grew up in Hawai‘i, spent years in New York, and came to Portland looking for a place to start again. I found people who could make a meal feel like a welcome, a festival that pulled strangers together, and local customs that made me laugh before I understood them.
I'm Larie Pidgeon. PNW Passport is my independent little newsroom. Sometimes I come back with a story that makes you laugh. Sometimes it sits with you for a while. And whenever there's somewhere you can go yourself, I try to give you the address and the practical details, too.
Somebody in the group chat has said “I'm easy” for the fourth time. Fine. Tell the Escape Hatch your mood, budget, available time and region. It will give you a real place, a reason to go and the details we have checked. Open the adventure picker → · Browse all 120 places →
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A strange festival, a neighborhood market, a reason to meet your friends somewhere other than the same bar. Browse our handpicked events by date and place, then check the organizer's latest details before you leave.
I love a spontaneous night. I do not love standing in the rain while everyone debates the next stop. Our Portland Date Guide has ten complete outings, with the order, timing, budget notes, reservation guidance and rain backups figured out.
You bring the person. I'll bring the plan.
I'm Larie. I report, write, shoot and build useful stories for readers who save them, send them and make plans around them. If your destination, restaurant or brand has something worth investigating, here's how we can work together.
