197. Grant McOmie Was the Best of Oregon

April 2026:

When I think about the syllabus that informed my graduate-level education of Oregon and all its environs, a few foundational texts spring to mind.

Paul Gerald’s 60 Hikes Within 60 Miles of Portland introduced me to hiking trails throughout the Columbia River Gorge and as far away as the Oregon Coast. Adam Sawyer’s Best Outdoor Adventures Near Portland took me beyond hiking trails and onto local bike paths and waterways. Zach Urness covered the Oregon outdoors with such thoughtfulness, insight, and passion that I happily paid for an annual subscription to his journalistic home, the Statesman Journal. And Travel Oregon’s 7 Wonders of Oregon campaign inspired a thirst to see the rest of the state—one that hasn’t been quenched after 12 years.

But there were few friendlier, more thoughtful teachers than Grant McOmie, an outdoors journalist and television host who passed away on March 26, 2026, after battling a brief illness.

I found Grant’s Getaways, McOmie’s outdoor show for KGW News, in 2014—early in my blossoming love affair with Oregon. The show centered around McOmie’s adventures across the Beaver State, where he’d go fishing with knowledgeable anglers, bird-watching with passionate photographers, paddling with local guides, and more. If it could be done outdoors, chances are good McOmie did it—and made it sound like the most fun, meaningful experience in the world.

Pretty quickly after discovering Grant’s Getaways in 2014, I filled my DVR with the show—usually putting it on in the background while making dinner, scrolling through Twitter, or grinding through assignments early in my career as an Oregon travel writer.

Before long, the background watches turned into obsessive viewing. Even when my DVR recorded a half-dozen reruns of the same episode, I rarely minded watching the same few segments over the following weeks.

No matter the topic or destination, McOmie made Oregon feel so much bigger than I’d ever known. Before getting into Grant’s Getaways, my interest in Oregon didn’t extend east of Mount Hood or south of Eugene. For years, my Oregon was a small Oregon—and while I found plenty to love, I quite simply didn’t know what I was missing.

Grant McOmie changed that. He introduced me to the Oregon Dunes, one of the largest coastal sand dunes in the world. He visited ghost towns whose names I couldn’t pronounce on highways I’d never driven. He took a jet boat tour of Hells Canyon, the deepest river canyon in North America. (That’s when I learned that Hells Canyon existed—and that it’s the deepest river canyon in North America.) My corner of Oregon became my state of Oregon through those three- to five-minute segments, and my life would never be the same.

I never met McOmie myself, but I always appreciated how much he cared about the places he visited and the people he experienced them with; you never got the sense he was anything less than over-the-moon excited to get back out on the road and soak up Oregon’s beauty, no matter how many times he’d been there before. It didn’t matter whether he visited one of the state’s most popular attractions or was the only person for dozens of miles; McOmie brought an infectious enthusiasm to every stop.

He exuded an aw-shucks kind of charm, a disarming friendliness and a deep, baritone voice that made everyone—on screen and watching on TV—feel right at home; even if you’ve never traveled the state’s backroads or fished the waters of Clatsop Spit, you couldn’t help but admire his ability to find joy in even the smallest of experiences. You might have even gotten curious to try a few of those outings on your own.

That open-hearted friendliness certainly moved me to slow down and listen to birdsong, admire dazzling fall foliage displays, watch for spawning salmon, and admire soaring bald eagles on my own outdoor adventures—a testament to the ways McOmie could imbue those moments with an almost spiritual depth.

Just as remarkable is how McOmie brought out the best in the people he interviewed. He let them speak at length about the tours they led, the places they traveled, and the history they studied. He put a face on the Oregon outdoors—a thoughtful, kind, and approachable face that made you want to learn more about these boat makers, artists, gardeners, and park rangers who make Oregon such a special, vibrant place to live and play.

It wasn’t just where McOmie traveled or who he interviewed, though; it was how he celebrated all of it.

It wasn’t uncommon, for instance, for McOmie to go fishing or crabbing with a local angler in one segment—and to prepare a feast with those just-caught ingredients in the next. He’d sit in the passenger seat with a wildlife photographer while waiting for just the right shot; McOmie didn’t just capture what the photographer was looking for, but rather demonstrated the patience required for that magical moment. He took us down little-trafficked highways on the way to less-visited state parks, dedicating whole segments to laid-back drives, often in his beloved RV. We spent time with bugling elk at the height of the rut, the camera trained on a powerful bull for what felt like hours. None of the segments ever felt hurried or rushed; they were given the time and space they needed to communicate what that experience was like.

In an era when the world seems to be moving faster all the time, McOmie slowed us down and encouraged us to take it all in. He found thoughtful people to share it with, celebrated every moment, and did so in the farthest reaches of Oregon—all with a smile on his face. That’s a life worth celebrating, and I’m grateful we enjoyed as much as we did.

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