Today proved to be more chaotic than any other day as I actually got little mileage in. Here's how it went:
Lynda and I were both up early so we could walk to the nearby dog park with Gracie and Sadie. She takes Gracie there every morning before she heads to work. The dogs were on leashes until we got there. There were many dogs already running around, chasing balls, sticks or frisbees under the tall pines. I was a bit apprehensive about Sadie being off-leash around these strange dogs, but she did surprisingly well. She stayed near Gracie and followed her around at first, but did learn to trust the other dogs and people.
I honestly didn't want to leave in the morning, but I also didn't want to be any more of a burden on Lynda. She had been such a nice host and we did a lot of talking, about our years in high school together, our failed marriages, our kids. Our sons are both in the early 20s and have never been to Germany before.
I researched places, trail guides and routes as I drank the last of my French press coffee. Then I got an unexpected message via Facebook from another shelter volunteer I once worked with in Bisbee, Lindsey. She is a professional photographer who also does pro bono work for animal shelters. She was in Portland and asked if I could come over for a bit. What was she doing in town? The last I heard of her, she was at Fort Lewis and her husband, an army captain, was deployed to Afghanistan. I took her on the invite and stopped by. Her rented house was not far from Lynda's at all and easily accessible via two major north-south and east-west roads. When I got to Lindsey's house, everyone was at the front table by the main window, finishing a late breakfast. Lindsey's husband Evan greeted me but then quickly left, Lindsey's brother Nathan did the same, but the third man, Steve, who happens to hail from East Chicago, Indiana, started up a nice conversation about animal welfare. I discovered today that Evan is leaving the military and job-searching. That took me by surprise as he only served 6.5 years as a West Point graduate. Some things should not be questioned, and I didn't. I left after two hours and I still had another hour before morning was over.
Why not drive into downtown Portland, I mused, and took that as my own challenge. But I really didn't know where I was going as my GSP seems to only work with an internet connection. The business section of Portland is surrounded by interstate bridges and one-way streets, and another section across the river is even more chaotic with construction and pedestrians too impatient to wait for their turn to cross streets. Portland is a very bike and pedestrian-friendly town, and this morning I felt that their rights trumped mine. People were walking in all directions, cyclists were coming down the wrong way, crowds of people blocked passage for other passers-by, and sleeping transients got lost in the mumbled masses of people and street-side trash. I saw trouble. It was best, I decided, to just leave and head east. I never got to walk one street in downtown Portland. And parking? Forget it! Portland clearly is a city best seen by public transportation. Getting back on I-84 wasn't much easier this time, either.
It was late in the afternoon before I had my bearings back and was on the road. This drive east marked the start of my return trip. My mission to see the Lewis and Clark campsites along the mouth of the Columbia River and seeing Lynda again were the highlights of this trip. Now, I realized, everything else was just roadside attractions along the journey home.
I got off I-84 to drive whatever stretch of Historic US30 there was, which turned off I-84 at the Crown Point overlook. This was slow traffic, merging with parking lot traffic from cars pulling out of trail head parking lots. It was one waterfall after the other, although I will admit they were all spectacular.
Sadie was visibly tired today, looking at me sadly from her seat next to me. She also looked thinner than normal. Had she been losing weight on this trip? She's eaten very little of her dry kibble, and hotdogs were her staple on this trip, plus whatever other fast food she shared with me. Was she feeling OK? I stopped once to do a short hike just to keep awake, and to give my stiff leg muscles some movement. The desire to hike long and hard, however, was gone. I was admittedly tired.
The wind was blowing hard today. The forecast mentioned gusts of up to 40mph. Waters on the Columbia were choppy. In some areas, avid wind surfers were fighting the winds, or pushing themselves along the current. We continued to take little stops, walking around short river trails or overlooks. We were both feeling tired. It was late afternoon and I felt no pressure to leave the river today. It was a slow, dragged-out rebellion and avoidance of saying good-bye to a region that took me over 54 years to see for the first time.
My first city stop along the route was Hood River, a town popular for its windsurfing. The winds were blowing hard and brought a cold bite to them. I pulled into town to watch the surfers, but even just parking along the river front cost money, so I parked away from the parking lot, took some photos, and drove into town. Part of the old town is built into a slope, and roads run one way only. (That must be a state ordinance in all Oregon towns!) There were three popular breweries along a side street, and all looked busy. I stopped in one, bought a six-pack of their Full Sail Pilsner, but didn't stay because of Sadie. I didn't want to leave Sadie alone. At this point I had only driven 50 miles east of Portland. I do like my beer, but don't want to lavish in it every day.
I drove on. Historic US30 was a little-used highway here, a two-lane road meandering along the river. The busy traffic stayed on the interstate nearby, which meandered closer to the riverbank. Golden fields opened up to my right, higher hilltops exposed themselves farther way, This was, from my historical perspective, the "Golden Hills of Oregon," which means that the hills were laid bare by the loggers who came before me. The lush, wet, green Cascades were behind me now, and a sense of loneliness overcame me. Was the best of Oregon behind me now?
I pulled over at an overlook just east of Mosier. Three people were looking out to the east, drinking large bottles of Deschutes beer. I was parked nearby and we started a conversation, which somehow got me to mention that I was retired military and this was my first trip into Oregon. The tall man, Jesse, was surprised to hear I was also a Desert Storm veteran like himself, and invited me to stay at his place for the night, parking the van in his spacious yard. Although I didn't clock in much mileage, I thought this was a great idea to spend time with some locals. The young woman, Chrystal, was just as enthusiastic and showed me some places to hike and camp in the area.
I followed Jesse and Chrystal back to their home in Mosier. I was cautious, as I don't know how much Jesse had been drinking, and he was on a scooter. They both looked so free-loving as the wind swept around their helmets and both moved with the curves on the bike. Their home was an older wood home a block uphill from US30.
We sat outside and drank beer. Chrystal and I chatted about the area. She is Chinook Indian and talked about her time on the water in southwestern Washington. She loves the water, but moved here to Mosier to raise her son Thomas from her previous marriage. Mosier is smaller and more safe, she added, but she commutes every day back to Portland for her job.
Jesse drove into town to buy more beer. He kept handing me bottles of Deschutes; I couldn't keep up! More friends of his stopped by, including a retired stuntman from Hollywood. We were inside the home now, sitting on an old couch as Jesse held his sick Yorkie, Twinkie. Twinkie had been having trouble olding food down lately and needed to take her to the vet. "I will die if Twinkie dies" said Jesse, quite despondent over his little dog.
There were also two cats that lived outside. One was Mystery, a black cat with a badly-healed front right leg that caused a severe limp, but which didn't seem to slow the cat down much as it scurried around bushes and other obstacles. The other cat, an orange-white cat named Copper, was more friendly and eagerly posed for photographs.
I liked Chrystal and her open honesty. I told her she should work for the tourist industry, as she's very chipper, knows the land, and appears to have excellent people skills. Jesse talked to his friends and continued to drink, but when his company left, we all decided to call it a night. I went back to my van for a good night's sleep again, in a very quiet neighborhood.
"I'll keep the back door unlocked for you, so that you can come in and shower" said Jesse.
MORE LATER
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