At Oregon’s Camp 18, A Rustic Retreat With Culinary Charm
It’s 2 p.m. on a Saturday, the sort of lazy day that demands fluffy pancakes and a hearty omelet for no other reason than the fact that it’s a typically dreary January weekend, among the otherworldly green of western Oregon. I’m tucking into a four-cheese omelet with a gooey consistency akin to pudding, but something is missing. Suddenly, it hits me: a cinnamon bun the size of a dinner plate, of course.
While preposterously large portions are de rigueur at Camp 18, the restaurant about 60 miles west of Portland has a rustic feel few other destination eateries can boast thanks to its, um, rust.
Nestled among the pines of the Oregon Coast Range, along the side of the winding two lanes of Highway 26 and a mere 22 miles east of the Pacific Ocean, Camp 18 may at first be mistaken for a junk yard. That’s no insult on the outward décor – there just simply is a plethora of rusting old logging equipment strewn about the gravel parking lot.
But the equipment tells a story, and it’s that story that has been drawing visitors from as far away as South Korea and Australia since 1986.
As legend has it, a logger named Gordon Smith dreamed of building the biggest log cabin anyone had ever seen. He assembled the whole thing singlehandedly, felling, bucking, hauling, and cutting the timber himself. When he was done, he filled the cabin with logging tools, machinery, and photographs, to which fellow loggers, curious visitors, and everyone else would be drawn. He named the place Camp 18, since Milepost 18 was nearby and because logging camps were always numbered, not named.
At the centerpiece of Camp 18 – which includes a restaurant, gift shop, logging museum, and a memorial dedicated to the industry that, until recently, was Oregon’s biggest source of income – is the cabin that houses the restaurant. Oregon is Paul Bunyan country, and the cabin doesn’t disappoint: the impossibly massive structure is said to be the largest log building in North America.
Camp 18 establishes itself as a destination eatery before one even walks through the front door. Boilers, tractors, logging graders, railroad cabooses, straddle buggies, loading donkeys, oil tanks, steam bathhouses, logging cables, a dining car (which is also used as a bathroom during the hectic summer tourist season), and a restored wooden water tower crowd the smallish parking lot, while carved wooden statues of loggers, bears, wolves and – of course – Bigfoot (the largest carving on the property, at over nine feet tall) greet visitors with still features. And that’s just the outside.
Inside, the most striking feature is the huge 85-foot ridge pole which holds the cabin together, the largest such ridge pole in the United States. The singular log weighed nearly 25 tons when cut, and contains approximately 5,600 board feet of lumber – which could produce 5,600,000 sheets of paper. Supposedly, Smith – now 80 – didn’t use a single nail to hold the giant log in place.
Another feature of the building is the hand-carved main doors. Carved from a single old growth fir log, each door is 4 1/2 inches thick and weighs approximately 500 pounds, with iron handles in the shape of, naturally, axes. Unsurprisingly, children often have a hard time opening the doors by themselves.
In the restaurant’s spacious dining area, two fireplaces provide almost as much lighting as the chandeliers made from elk antlers. Weighing about 25 tons each and built with rock found locally, the fireplaces are among the most coveted places to sit – though the stunning vistas of nearby Humbug Creek, and the surrounding forest, means every seat comes with a view.
As stunning as the exterior vistas may be – particularly in the oft-underrated (and less busy) springtime – it’s the interior ones that steal the show. Smith’s restaurant is a veritable museum of logging lore (never mind that the actual museum is next door), and various pieces of equipment are as much of a treat for the eyes as the food is for the stomach.
Besides the antiquated logging tools and historic photos, a plethora of taxidermied animals can be found in the charming little nooks and crannies one wouldn’t expect such a square-shaped building to have. A full-sized cougar on the second floor balcony is particularly arresting, if not slightly unnerving.
While visitors may admittedly come for the experience more than the food, the simple yet hearty country fare is not to be underrated, and surprisingly inexpensive, given the décor and location. Logging in its pre-computerized heyday was a famously dangerous profession, and few jobs were harder. A logger usually worked from dawn until dusk, six days a week, fueled by 7,000 to 9,000 calories per day – nearly three times the recommended daily average for a man today – which may explain the huge portions the restaurant serves. Breakfast staples such as buttermilk pancakes (called “flatcars,” $5.99) and waffles are by far the most popular choices. Other country diner mainstays, such as Santa Fe burgers ($9.99) and sirloin steak ($19.99), are exactly the straightforward no-frills items one would expect. But rather than the standard dishes available at any eatery from San Diego to Augusta, one should try locally-caught rainbow trout ($12.99), pan-fried and served with enough French fries to feed an army – or an entire logging crew.
Desserts such as marionberry cobbler ($4.59, a unique Oregon creation that results when a blackberry is crossed with a raspberry) and cinnamon buns ($4.99) are the stuff of legends, and large enough to instantly ruin any diet. It is recommended to wear pants with an elastic waistband before consuming any of these sugary monstrosities.
In an area not often known for its food or architecture, Camp 18 is a powerful statement. The guestbook confirms the restaurant’s international fame, and a negative review is about as difficult to find as a phone signal. During my visit, I heard French being spoken just a few tables away.
The complete immersion Camp 18 provides into the logging lifestyle is enough to make one’s appetite balloon even on the laziest of Saturdays. Or, at the very least, the intriguing scenery makes one forget how full they really are.
Still craving a giant cinnamon bun, I promptly call the waitress over, and within minutes the caloric colossus is in front of my friends John, Tim and I.
Though we probably shouldn’t, we wolf down the super-sized sticky pastry with a voracity that surprises even us. Once we inevitably come down from the sugar high, we’ll probably sleep for days.
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IF YOU GO:
Rating: ★★★★★
42362 Highway 26, Elsie, Ore.; (503) 755-1818; http://www.camp18restaurant.com
The atmosphere: Laid-back despite the often hectic summertime crowds. Numerous pieces of logging equipment and photographs give a distinctly museum feel. Large windows provide stunning views of the surrounding forest.
The food: Standard country fare at good prices with massive portions. Breakfast starts from $5.99, while lunches start from $7.99, dinners from $17.99, and desserts from $3.99.
