September the 10th.

The day, as indicated above, was September the 10th.  It was just like any other day, in that the sun came up, I woke up, time continued marching onward with unflinching progress.

As I said, I woke up.  Earlier than I meant to.  Man, grammar is not normally my strong point, but this stuff is awful so far.  I'd blame it on being tired, but I don't think that I am.  Or, at least, I don't feel like I should be.

Anyway, on to the events of the 10th!

I spent the morning recounting the events of the prior day to myself in my adventure journal for future (now past, but probably still future) reference.  After that, I left my friend's apartment and headed for parts mostly known. 

This included a stop at Multnomah Falls.  Though, what trip along the Columbia River Gorge can not include a stopover at the falls?  Am I right?  I'll take your enduring silence as confirmation, thank you very much.

Why am I so sarcastic right now?

I'm leaving that as is, but there will be a definite tone shift in the words and sentences to follow--though, not necessarily an improvement in the grammar.

I parked my truck, I headed under the freeway and through the little tunnel over to the falls, going straight for the first viewpoint. 

For those of you who read this that have not been to the falls, I highly recommend it--if for no other reason than the storybook bridge crossing the lower falls, backed by the majestically towering upper falls.  Okay, so really that's the reason to go, to see the falls.

Here's a close-up.

As I approached the bridge, I decided to do something that I had not done in the two, count them, two times that I had been there before.  Namely, to hike up to the upper lookout.

It was a narrow, treacherous (paved) trail, with eleven deadly switchbacks.  And a few benches to stop and rest at along the way.  Each of the switchbacks was numbered.  As I ascended the path, it was fairly easy to gauge progress by the switchbacks.  At one point there was a group ahead of me that turned back between numbers 7 and 8.  I thought they were just tired, and I felt a little bad for them--but I didn't want to seem arrogant and try to goad them on.  What did make me feel worse, though, was that momentarily I reached the 9th switchback--and the trail crested.  It was down hill from there.  The trail had reached the top of the hill, and was heading down the backside toward the lookout platform.  I really wished that I had given the other hikers some friendly encouragement.

Maybe the following can give you some perspective on how high up this was:

Shortly thereafter, I turned and headed back down the mountain.

After I rounded switchback number 9, the descent went by astonishingly quickly.

Once I had rearrived at the bottom viewing platform, a group of tourists asked me about the hike up.  I advised them that it hadn't been treacherous, but I also discouraged those in flip flops from attempting it.  It was the thought of the front part of the sole curling under on the steeper portions of the trail that caused me to discourage.  I still think it was for the best.

A few feet closer to the parking lot, and I saw the three hikers who had turned back.  Feeling affable, I decided to talk to them.  I let them know that I had seen them turn back, and offered them my camera for viewing the images taken from the top.  They explained to me that they hadn't turned back out of tiredness at all, but because one of their party was afraid of heights.  She actually swooned a little just from looking at the pictures on the 3.0" screen of the camera.  After all that, I'm pretty sure they made the right choice.

Making my way back toward the parking lot, and more specifically my truck, I headed once more through the tiled tunnel, turned around, and took this picture.

I like it.  It's neat.

Not much new or different happened between then and Portland.  Well, except for the fact that I didn't make it to Portland.  I wasn't paying enough attention and wound up on the 205 south, which was just as well.  My next goal was the Fry's Electronics.

I needed a new memory card for my camera.  I know, I know, I've got two 4 gb cards, but was worried about filling them up.  My laptop was with me, but I had sort of decided that I was willing to spend what(ever) was necessary to not have to download pictures to that as a temporary solution.  You see, that laptop is about 10 years old, and tops out at USB 1.1.  So, the prospect of downloading pictures to it, then reacquiring them at some dismal point in the future was not exactly hopeful.



So, the plan was to get a new memory card that would be able to tide me over until I got back home and could download everything.  I found the Fry's easily enough, found a 16 gb compact flash card, then got the crazy idea to look at laptops.  After all, no sales tax in Oregon, right?

You'll be happy to know that I did not make a several hundred dollar impulse buy at the thought of saving 50-100 dollars.  But the bug was firmly planted, and I decided to head over to the nearby Costco to see if they had anything more to my liking.  They didn't.  At all.  There was a Best Buy, in the neighborhood, though... and they didn't have anything, either.

I really didn't have anything on my agenda for the rest of the day, other than meeting up with my fellow Warrior Dash-ers in anticipation of the run the following day.  There were various communications sent back and forth, but our destined reunion was still hours away.

Continuing to drive around as was my wont, I decided to explore Lake Oswego, and somehow ended up in West Linn.  Specifically, I went to Mary S. Young Park.  I had the sneaking suspicion that I'd been there before, but couldn't confirm.

I wandered around the park for a bit, then went back to my truck and decided it was time to eat.  I wanted to find something local, but ended up at a link in a restaurant chain that I simply hadn't encountered before.  It was Burgerville.  The food (and shake) was pretty good, but it was nothing to write home about--so to speak.

After that, I went to the hotel to wait out my weekend roomies.  I got there well before they did, and after a brief conversation, found that it might be a while yet.  Feeling very tired, I decided to go to the nearby Starbucks, try to wake up a little bit, then write up some more of my adventure.  It was not to be.  Shortly after arriving and beginning to drink the special coffee drink, I got the call that they were almost there.

I headed once more for my truck, then back to the hotel.  I had been hoping to be there at check-in to see if I could finagle my AAA membership into a discount, but when I arrived, the crew was already in the room.  So, I did the sensible thing, and drove around to it.

It was a Residence Inn, and the room was a two storey affair.  There was a loft with a bed and bathroom, downstairs was a master bedroom with attached bathroom, and a hide-a-bed.  I got the hide-a-bed, but not for a while.  First was dinner, then... costume hunting?

The dinner is explained easily enough: we went to The Olive Garden.  It was two blocks from the hotel. 

Costume hunting... oh, costume hunting.  Let's just say it ended with a plastic chestplate and helmet, and a can or two of spray paint from the Home Depot.  An hour or so later, and a pair of shorts were being spray painted on the balcony.  Don't ask... just... don't ask.

After that, one of the guys and I talked cameras for a while, then we all went our sleepy ways.

It's Been A While

I realize it's been far too long since I've posted here.  As a matter of fact, I thought my last post had been in regards to the 10th, but it turns out it was really only the 8th!  Wow.

So without further ado, I will dive in and tell the tale of my September the 9th, of this 2010.

It begins, like so many other days, with me waking up.

Whew!  Now that the tough part of the day is out of the way, I'll just move right on to the easy stuff.

Here's a picture of the view:

 

I don't recall the mountain in the picture, but it's in Washington.  The picture is, of course, taken from the Oregon side of the river.

I didn't know quite what to do with my day, nor where to go.  In my mind, it seemed like a reasonable thing to venture forth and explore the ancient mysteries of central Oregon.  So I did.  I had nowhere to be for another two days, so I decided to just pick a direction, drive, and follow whatever little trails I deemed interesting.

As I drove my chosen southward direction, I happened to see a mountain in the distance.  A very large, looming, ominous sort of mountain.  Veiled deeply in cloud.

Drawn by its mysteriousness, I chose whatever roads looked like they would draw me nearest to it.  I had my suspicions that it was Mount Hood, and those very same suspicions were later confirmed.

Driving ever onward and toward the mountain, I spied a little road off to the side of the highway.  Since the highway I was on was leading me downhill, it seemed to me that I wasn't going to get a very good scenic view of the scenic view, so I decided to climb the logging road I had found.

Here's a picture of the mountain and the town below it--as I said, veiled in cloud:

Not at all satisfied with the view that I had come upon, I continued upward.  The trail wasn't over, so neither was I.  Here is another rewarding view (300mm):

Still not content in thinking that I had seen all that the mountain I was on had to offer, I pressed onward and upward.  I reached a few places that made turning around seem at least plausible, but since I hadn't met any other traffic, I decided I would make that 50 point turn if need be (or back down the mountain in reverse). 

My perseverance was rewarded a short distance later.  It wasn't another view of Mount Hood, but something almost... more special. 

It was a clearing that looked as though it had been recently logged, but the ground isn't what's important here (I know, I know, the ecology of the place is important as far as what I'm about to say, and the future implications... but I'm not speaking from the point of a preservationist or anything, at the moment I'm speaking from the perspective of an ignorant observer, pure and simple).  Up in the sky--it wasn't a plane, and it certainly wasn't Superman--there were many, many birds of prey.  I couldn't tell you what they were, other than awesome, but it always seems to me like you might see one or two in the same place at the same time... but up there, there had to have been about 20.  By the time I had gotten my little digital camera out and flipped it to video recording, most of them had drifted on the current away from me, but I caught a few of them still visible.

Here is probably the most interesting still shot I got with my dslr:

It was awesome, and I mean that in the most literal sense of the word.

After that, the road led me up and around the mountain I was on, and away from any views of Mount Hood.  Soon I found myself at the top.  I was not rewarded with pot of gold, or anything so amazing.  What I found at the top, quite possibly the sole purpose of the road, was a cell tower.  I bet that's a fun one to get to in the middle of winter.  Yikes.

Back down the mountain, I rejoined the highway and soon thereafter stopped near a place called Toll Bridge Park.  Something quite... bittersweet, caught my eye.  It was a ball field.  That's the sweet.  A place for kids, and presumably adults who are so inclined, to go out and play baseball, or kickball, or whatever other sports they want to adapt to the field.  Now here's the bitter:  It was completely overgrown, as if it had been long forgotten.  There was a large, weed strewn parking lot, the population of which consisted (until my arrival) of exactly one creepy, windowless van.

Here's the ballpark:

This is the view directly across the street:

And this is the aforementioned van (oh yeah, I forgot the windows were tinted, too...):

Now how do you feel about my descriptions?

After that, I got back out on the road and headed closer toward that town I had seen under the mountain.  Along the way, there were vineyards.  I pulled over, stood on the edge of the box in the back of my truck (you know, for the additional elevation), and got this next one:

That was looking almost due south from where I was.  Here is almost due west:

But really, I like this one better:

And of course, the ominousness:

Once I was finished standing on the back of my truck, my drive into the unknown continued.  I was on a nice, reasonable highway, then I took a turn for the worse.  Road.  I took a turn onto a worse road.  A little further, I saw a sign that said something like 'High Prairie Next Right,' and I absolutely could not pass something like that up, and promptly expedited the making of that next right.

That's when I found my second exclusively dirt road of the day.  There wasn't as much danger of falling off the side of a mountain as there had been earlier, but the road was certainly... less even.  For the most part I saw the ruts coming and could do what was necessary to reduce the... impact, but some of them really caught me by surprise--and by that I simply mean, by falling out of the air and landing on my seat.  Good fun.

I don't recall the mileage, but it took a while to eventually reach the High Prairie.

There was a space where I parked almost behind where I took the above image from that I thought almost made my truck look like it was in some kind of Ford commercial.  Here, you decide:

(with the exception of the fact that my front wheels were so dirty, of course)

I didn't have much farther to go up the road before it ended in the trailhead parking lot.  I considered it, but ultimately decided to keep driving.  Back down the mountain.

On the way down, I caught some views that I hadn't seen on the way up.  Here are a couple of slightly different versions of one:

And the other:

Once I got back down to the paved road, I made a right and kept going the way that I had been.  The road ended up taking me on a long loop that wound back up in The Dalles.  I caught some nifty sights along the way, though.  Many of which added to something that at that point I had only recently realized was a theme for me, which is things well lit by sunlight, but with stark contrast to the dark clouds behind.  It's almost invariably neat.

Example:

When I was more or less out of the mountains and into more agricultural territory, I happened upon this little gem:

It made me think of a few things.  One was a phrase, 'All roads lead to the top.'

Shortly thereafter, I saw some fields that, as I drove by them, almost immediately reminded me of the washed out imagery of so many 'post apocalyptic' types of movies.  I turned my truck around and found a wide spot to pull over, climbed in the back again and began taking my pictures.

A red car drove by me as I did so.

Here's a picture:

And another after changing the white balance:

Then that same red car drove by me in the other direction, stopped, and woman exited the car, ambulating in my general direction.

Lots and lots of thoughts paraded quickly through my mind about how she was going to tell me off, or call her neighborhood watch on me, or something equally dreadful.  Nope.  She wondered if I was the guy she had seen taking pictures the day before.  "That guy had a sign on his truck," she said.  "Nope, not me," I said.  "No sign."

It's always interesting to me, the reaction I get from other people when I'm taking pictures of something... let's say, a little out of the ordinary.  Like the above two images, for example.  There was something in my mind that I was immediately comparing the scene to.  Other people, I imagine--until they hear my reference, anyway--might just see a dirt field ready to be seeded.  Nothing particularly special, right?  What I usually notice, and I realize this could be entirely my own projection here, are the people looking in the general direction that the lens is pointed, giving it a few seconds to kind of settle in... and then shrugging it off when they don't see what I do.  It's a simultaneous uniquely amazing, but also slightly ridiculous feeling.

After that brief exchange she went on her merry way, once more turning around and heading in the original direction which I had seen her driving.

I jumped back into the cab and tooled on into town.  I drove around for a bit, then decided to try and find a park that I had been to in The Dalles several years before.  It's called Sorosis Park, and I'll admit, I couldn't find it on my own.  My phone helped.

Here's the park:

And here's the view (the park is on a hill):

Heading back down the hill, I went back down river and met up with my friend once more.  We had dinner at a brewery then watched a show about weird food.

It was an exceptionally good day.