Sunriver Virgin’s Expectations Vaulted
A Photographic Walk Through My First Visit to the Resort
By Ryan Huffman
IA is for Iowa, and so was the receptionist. Or so his identification tag had told me. He was a long way from home, but close to perfection when it came to service. The main lobby did catch me off guard. There was enough stone, hardwood, and cast iron to erect a small country. The soaring vaulted hardwood ceilings, lined with track lights, pristine cabin chandeliers, and artwork from every medium you could imagine, had vaulted my expectations. The cordial receptionist quickly dialed us in on everything we needed to know and on our way we were to 718.
Seven hundred and eighteen is a number of prosperity, and behind the number was all the luxuries and amenities I could have asked for in my first stay at Sunriver Resort. I was quickly drawn into a room where the most beautiful lava rock fireplace strongly sat centerpiece, screaming for attention. My Canon point-and-shoot was ready to roll thanks to the magnificent lobby and so off I went. Documenting every corner and detail of the room was more play than work. The view from the patio was as beautiful as it could have been for an overcast, mid-50's day in February. Off the patio to the right was a quaint little footbridge that crossed the slow moving river, still lined with bulrushes, that stretched into the winter chill. The same bridge that I would recall in several locations throughout the resort that evening. Coincidence? No. Is it maybe, that this footbridge is the complete sum of what Sunriver is and stands for: A getaway from anything and everything that distracted and bombarded me in my everyday life, and that single moment of realization when I said to myself, "I live once. And life is damn great!"
Back inside I was completely taken by the bathroom. From every slate tile and stone, from floor to ceiling, to the perfectly polished faucets that literally reflected my excitement, this is exactly what I had needed. The tub filled swiftly like an angry hurricane. This machine only took about forty-five seconds to fill. Now it was time to relax.
Then came dinner. The vaulted ceilings and track lights were carried through the Meadows at the Lodge, as did the spectacular views. First course, kabocha squash soup. This was an interesting combination of shrimp pot stickers, curry, banana, and ginger frost that fought itself to find its identity as a starter or a desert. Either way it was amazing and had me asking myself, is this legal? The second course consisted of beef tournedos and Maine lobster. The Yukon Gold mashed potatoes rivaled the shiitake mushrooms. And before long there was no evidence left of the damage I had just done to my old, sub-par standards of dinning. The third course of cappuccino crème anglaise, raspberry coulis, and chocolate gelato finished off the dinner - as well as my stomach.
For over twenty-one years our waitress had served at the Meadows at the Lodge. Her personality shone liked the candlelight, and most importantly, as everyone soundly agrees, the glasses were always full.
After taking a few quick moments to check out the second story art gallery, I headed outside to catch, once again, the cool winter chill and what would soon turn out to be a great perspective on what an evening in Sunriver Resort River Lodges was really like.
Every corner I turned was populated with magnificent vaulted ceilings and huge wooden beams, complemented by spectacular lighting that would make even God jealous. The main lobby entrance was lit up like a postcard and there was no shortage of running serenity that the water features brought. The second and third story art gallery stretched into the sky and quickly drew me in to take a closer look.
The third story was a great escape into a utopia of Glacial Miracles. Art by Vern Bartley lined the walls and reflected itself in the floor-to-ceiling windows at every opportunity possible. I exited down the staircase towards the Owl’s Nest. The obvious place to be at that moment - or so whispered the flowing drinks and friendly conversations.
A cool winter rain greeted the next morning. But nothing would deter me from the breakfast I was about to enjoy. I had hit the lip lottery. In a nice private spot beside the fire, the eggs Benedict I had found were flawless and nearly floating. The accenting crisp potato slices to finish off my final moments at Sunriver Resort was exactly the way to go out.
IA is for Iowa, and so was the receptionist. Or so his identification tag had told me. He was a long way from home, but close to perfection when it came to service. The main lobby did catch me off guard. There was enough stone, hardwood, and cast iron to erect a small country. The soaring vaulted hardwood ceilings, lined with track lights, pristine cabin chandeliers, and artwork from every medium you could imagine, had vaulted my expectations. The cordial receptionist quickly dialed us in on everything we needed to know and on our way we were to 718.Seven hundred and eighteen is a number of prosperity, and behind the number was all the luxuries and amenities I could have asked for in my first stay at Sunriver Resort. I was quickly drawn into a room where the most beautiful lava rock fireplace strongly sat centerpiece, screaming for attention. My Canon point-and-shoot was ready to roll thanks to the magnificent lobby and so off I went. Documenting every corner and detail of the room was more play than work. The view from the patio was as beautiful as it could have been for an overcast, mid-50's day in February. Off the patio to the right was a quaint little footbridge that crossed the slow moving river, still lined with bulrushes, that stretched into the winter chill. The same bridge that I would recall in several locations throughout the resort that evening. Coincidence? No. Is it maybe, that this footbridge is the complete sum of what Sunriver is and stands for: A getaway from anything and everything that distracted and bombarded me in my everyday life, and that single moment of realization when I said to myself, "I live once. And life is damn great!"
Back inside I was completely taken by the bathroom. From every slate tile and stone, from floor to ceiling, to the perfectly polished faucets that literally reflected my excitement, this is exactly what I had needed. The tub filled swiftly like an angry hurricane. This machine only took about forty-five seconds to fill. Now it was time to relax.
Then came dinner. The vaulted ceilings and track lights were carried through the Meadows at the Lodge, as did the spectacular views. First course, kabocha squash soup. This was an interesting combination of shrimp pot stickers, curry, banana, and ginger frost that fought itself to find its identity as a starter or a desert. Either way it was amazing and had me asking myself, is this legal? The second course consisted of beef tournedos and Maine lobster. The Yukon Gold mashed potatoes rivaled the shiitake mushrooms. And before long there was no evidence left of the damage I had just done to my old, sub-par standards of dinning. The third course of cappuccino crème anglaise, raspberry coulis, and chocolate gelato finished off the dinner - as well as my stomach.For over twenty-one years our waitress had served at the Meadows at the Lodge. Her personality shone liked the candlelight, and most importantly, as everyone soundly agrees, the glasses were always full.
After taking a few quick moments to check out the second story art gallery, I headed outside to catch, once again, the cool winter chill and what would soon turn out to be a great perspective on what an evening in Sunriver Resort River Lodges was really like.Every corner I turned was populated with magnificent vaulted ceilings and huge wooden beams, complemented by spectacular lighting that would make even God jealous. The main lobby entrance was lit up like a postcard and there was no shortage of running serenity that the water features brought. The second and third story art gallery stretched into the sky and quickly drew me in to take a closer look.The third story was a great escape into a utopia of Glacial Miracles. Art by Vern Bartley lined the walls and reflected itself in the floor-to-ceiling windows at every opportunity possible. I exited down the staircase towards the Owl’s Nest. The obvious place to be at that moment - or so whispered the flowing drinks and friendly conversations.
A cool winter rain greeted the next morning. But nothing would deter me from the breakfast I was about to enjoy. I had hit the lip lottery. In a nice private spot beside the fire, the eggs Benedict I had found were flawless and nearly floating. The accenting crisp potato slices to finish off my final moments at Sunriver Resort was exactly the way to go out.
