October 7, Tuesday – Going Through

I’ve never been down the entire length of the Columbia River Gorge. The place where I had spent the night was at the eastern entrance to the rift through the Cascades dividing the long western range into the South and North Cascades. I watch from my living room in La Conner the sunrise over those beloved North Cascades where I worked as a park ranger three decades ago. The weather forecast said that 30 to 40 mph winds would be blowing up the gorge. The wind hit my rig as I pulled out of the protection of the Deschutes River drainage into the westbound traffic. The vegetation said I was still in the dry lands of mountain rain shadow but there were orchards and vineyards clinging to the narrow ledges that lined the canyon because river water could be lifted to provide the moisture that they needed. At The Dalles I unhooked the Jetta, gassed up at $3.30/gallon, crossed the river and headed back east on the Washington side for a trip to Maryhill Art Museum and Stonehenge. Sam Hill had built this showplace for his daughter, Mary, who declined to live there and Hill himself wasn’t interested in the place either. He was persuaded to make it into an art museum. I was impressed with the number of cars in the parking lot even though it was a weekday and the neighboring river bridge was closed due to construction. I enjoyed prowling the rooms and was pleased to see an extensive collection of First People artifacts along with the Rodin sculptures and Andy Warhal exhibits. What gave me the most pleasure though was the huge mushroom fairy ring growing outside under the popular trees. I didn’t see any elves dancing inside the ring, which was disappointing. Sam Hill also recreated a full-scale model of Stonehenge just up the road from Maryhill. I was delighted to see this replica and its possible explanation of its purpose even though it wasn’t the real thing.
Back on the Interstate I was startle by the quick vegetation change due to the slight difference in annual rainfall influenced by the coastal climate. From dry brush land to coniferous forests. It had been a long time since I had seen large growths of evergreens. The gorge drive was entertaining with the changing views and the stiff up-canyon wind. However I only saw two wind surfers out challenging elements. Not a good show for a world-class sports area, although another challenge was going on around me. Where to put four lanes of highway plus two sets of railroad tracks on very limited real estate. Putting the east bound traffic sometimes in a tunnel produced a temporary solution and shoving the west bound traffic out on a causeway also helped. But the railroad kept getting in the way so it was placed up against the cliffs or moved back out over the water constantly being shuttled back and forth across the freeway. And then suddenly they were gone. Space was no longer a premium. The mountains laid back and disappeared into the coastal flatlands. My mountain travels were over with.
Coming into Portland was a bittersweet experience. When I turned off the ignition in front of Caitlin’s house, I had completed the last link in my Circle Tour. Seven months and four days and 14, 828 miles earlier, Bob and I had sat at this very spot. The circumnavigation of the country had been completed. From now on I would be on an already traveled track. I opened a beer and raised it high in the four directions of the compass. The ceremony was completed when Caitlin and Will arrived home on their bicycles ala Portland style. Life is good.