Using Google Maps, I tried to provide directions to Coburg, and a greenish-yellow line swept quickly around the world to a spot in Germany. But that’s not the place I wanted to go.
Just north of Eugene, Oregon, is a town called Coburg. It’s the site of a yearly antique festival. I didn’t know what to expect, but living in Oregon, there certainly has been a hole to fill from the Northeast, where shows are more plentiful, and from Texas, where Round Top was an annual pilgrimage.
Oddly, it took until year four in the Beaver State to learn about it. And these days, when so many things are online, the Coburg Antique Festival was a little hard to find virtually, too.
Just days before the event, the website was asking for dealers rather than providing general information for the visiting public. Not knowing entirely what to expect, I headed south.
The drive from Portland was easy. On arriving, some traffic and the challenge of finding parking provided the feeling that this could be good.
Just as we stepped out of the car, a rainstorm hit, so getting some food in a dry spot could give us the energy needed to browse the many rows of aged goods.
The only PNW reference was a big flea in Washington in a pretty place called Packwood. On that trip, little in the way of antiques was to be found.
Coburg was different.
The bulk of things offered here are old and in original form, not recreated, reimagined or upscaled. This event opens at eight on a Sunday, and undoubtedly that’s the time to go if you’re serious about finding prizes.
We arrived much later and didn’t come home with anything beyond a first edition book and a melon someone generously gifted to us as we were returning to the car. There was enough to see, however, to get us thinking about making the trip again.
On the way home, we stopped at Albany, a town with a promising number of malls and shops. It turns out Albany has its own antique event and classic car show the day before Coburg, making for a trail of sorts for vintage enthusiasts.
And maybe that’s the real discovery here. Coburg doesn’t need to be Round Top or one of the giant antique shows of the Northeast. It has its own character, and for those of us in Oregon who have missed the experience of wandering through rows of genuinely old things, that’s enough.
Next year, I’ll know where Coburg is. And I’ll be there earlier.
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