Antelope is a long way to drive for a slice of marionberry cobbler.

But when you also get people like Laura Cortez and Ellen McNamee, a tiny one-horse town with juicy history oozing from every board and bat, and feel-good countryside that perfectly pairs with a lazy springlike afternoon, it’s well worth the price of petrol.

First stop was Martina’s, a Mexican restaurant and mercado, which is nearly always on my itinerary when I get to Madras. Trust me, the fajita burrito will sustain you the 31 miles to Antelope and beyond.

It’s 31 miles of sagebrush, little greenbelt canyons and soft, undulating hillocks – a sweet departure from the snowy mountains to the west.

Once in Antelope, it’s best to check in at the store and cafe, about midway up the main drag on the left. Besides the potential of meeting one or all of the some 35 townfolk at the lunch counter, Cortez can fill you in a little before you wander up one street and down the other.

It’s a ”quiet, peaceful” town. Obvious. There were at least three places for sale in town, one of which was going for the princely sum of $31,000. Interesting. The Big Muddy Ranch outside of town, a place the Rajneeshee multitudes called home for several years, is now a Christian youth retreat. I never would have guessed.

Old time Antelopians have nice things to say about these kids. But they weren’t too happy about the way things went down in 1981 when Baghwan Shree Rajneesh bought the spread, called it Rajneeshpuram and recruited several thousand orange-robed disciples to congregate there. The draw: an alternative blend of Eastern religion and sexual freedom.

The whole thing fell apart a few years later, but not before they’d left an indelible mark on Antelope and the ranchers and retirees who called it home.

”It was a nightmare,” said McNamee, who’s now the postmistress in Antelope. ”At first, it was something you didn’t want to believe was happening. This could only happen in L.A. or New York. … My big fear was that my children would be raised in that turmoil. Most of those who came in weren’t bad people. It was the hierarchy.”

The Baghwan and his lieutenants were apparently as grimly nefarious as the minions were naive.

They staged a coup on Antelope city politics, taking over the town, renaming it Rajneesh and creating a jack-booted police force there that McNamee recalls with a shudder. They even went so far as to contaminate several salad bars in The Dalles with salmonella.

Today, you’d never know they’d been there.

Many of the old timers are gone and the only local history the people of Antelope glorify took place well before the Baghwan blew through.

At the postage stamp city park across the street from the cafe, an informational sign tells of the discovery of gold at Canyon Creek on June 8, 1862, and the 10,000 fortune seekers who followed. They traveled the Canyon City Wagon Road from The Dalles to the diggings. Antelope was along the way.

Nearby, a community bulletin board beckons with the latest.

”Your city council is considering reinstating garbage pickup. … This will be done once a month and will be done by volunteers.”

Below, there’s a list of eight potential customers.

According to Norman D. Weis, author of ”Ghost Towns of the Northwest,” Antelope got its start when a way station was built along the wagon road in 1862. A fellow named Nathan Wallace soon built a store, and a blacksmith shop and stockade followed. Competitors built on a site two miles north and the whole town shifted.

Poke around Antelope and you can still see some of the old buildings, now boarded up and decaying. There’s the fraternal hall built in 1898 after a big fire, the Methodist church circa 1898 and the old Silvertooth Saloon.

In 1900, the railroad reached Shaniko, and the focus shifted eight miles to the north.

Nowadays, Antelope is the kind of place where you can hear the grasshoppers crackling on a summer’s day, and not much else.

”There’s not a lot of work,” said Cortez, who lived a while in Shaniko before the relentless wind sent her packing. ”Most people either drive to Madras, work as ranch hands or they’re already retired.”

Antelope is a worthy destination for a day trip. The park’s a great place for a picnic, the town just begs to be explored. And there’s the ”famous” berry cobbler. It comes with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream and a generous dollop of friendly chit chat. Seven days a week.