This morning I woke up in a bed in Flagstaff sandwiched next to my two dogs. It was kind of incredible. And although a huge part of me wishes I was still snuggled up on an air-mattress in a tent by a river near the thriving metropolis of BZ Corner, WA, the real mattress is nice.
Maybe it is the lack of sleep or the dramatic shift in sensory perceptions or just the change in people and place, but it feels as though I am coming out of a deep sleep and a long dream of the Pacific Northwest. A dream where you want to go back to sleep but you know you need to wake up. And if you were to go back to sleep, everything would be slightly shifted. It's not possible to go back once you wake up to reality. I've spent the last few hours trying.
I arrived in the PNW in the heart of summer. Hot weather and no rain in sight, the fruit trees were beginning to droop with the weight of the ripening fruit. The rafting scene was in full force. It seemed that everybody was in the gorge and everybody wanted to go rafting. My first week I got my bearings. I met some real-live pacific northwesters while hitchhiking, memorized Tyler's various notes of interp on the area after my third rafting trip and desperately tried to win the affection of Abe's dog Henry. The Gorge is known as a mecca for wind and water sports but on lazier days you can bask in the spectacular views of volcanoes and skinny dip in secluded swimming holes.
One small annoyance of mine was how difficult it was to cross between the two states without a car. A toll bridge crosses the Columbia and links White Salmon, WA to Hood River, OR, however this bridge is barely wide enough for two cars and has no biking or walking lane. So before I made friends and had multiple cars at my disposal I became quite accustomed to hitchhiking. Most of the folks picking me up were older couples that were worried about a young girl like me hitchhiking across the bridge but I met some wonderfully interesting folks as well. Among my favorites was a woman who fled Mexico because the man she was going to marry was a serial killer (the conversation was in spanish so details might not be entirely correct) and a nice young family going to pick huckleberries for the weekend that offered to pack me a bowl of the finest Pacific Northwest weed. Gotta love the folks up here.
Week two I actually had made some of my very own friends. I rafted a little bit but spent more time exploring the gorge with Jackie and actually got to paddle a few days thanks to Mandy and others I began to call my friends. Henry finally warmed up to me, it only took a month in Ecuador and nearly two weeks in the states. The mornings were getting a little cooler and the days a bit shorter (they lose about 3 minutes of light every day). Week two ended in Tyler's birthday party after which I took a mini stay-cation to Corvallis, OR to visit a very good friend of mine. We spent the weekend picking blueberries and visiting the wildlife center (along with a trip or two to the bakery on her husband's insistence).
The third and fourth weeks fall began to set in. The rafting scene calmed down a bit and it was easier to find people to paddle with. Jackie and I toured the farmers' markets. I ate at Thai cart with Hannah. I ate there again the next day with Tyler. Pretty much I lived off of Thai cart, Killer Burger and blueberry bagels (with the occasional Saturday Night Dinner or North Camp cooking frenzy thrown in the mix). More people left, a few were added into the mix and much to my surprise I was still there. Although we could feel fall coming there was still plenty of sunshine and no rain. Two days before I left a wildfire broke out. At night you could see the embers burning near the road and the flames dancing on the hillside. Smoke filled the gorge.
When I left the fire was 40% contained. This was an improvement on the previous days, however driving towards Portland you could see the scarred landscape and the smoke was still heavy. I loved the warm days and the plentiful sunshine but I guess with too much of that a fire was bound to start. Luckily it seemed to be getting manageable and I hope that nobody has been hurt.
It is funny how that fire had such an impact on my trip, how I have to work to remember the three and a half weeks of adventures before but the smoke and the flames leap so easily to my mind. I wrote a list on the airplane of all of my favorite memories of my trip and I think that was helpful in me remembering the big picture: Puff Falls, sleep in mornings, adventure planning, Jackie the dog, Curious Gorge adventures with Jackie the human, new friends, blackberry bushes, Steamboat Mountain, climbing Mt. Adams, Thai cart, slacklining...there are a lot more and I do not want to type them all, but you get the gist. A month in a place might be just enough time to get to know it. I am glad I left when I did, but I left with a feeling that I need to go back. It feels surreal right now, like a good dream, one that I want to remember.
Maybe it is the lack of sleep or the dramatic shift in sensory perceptions or just the change in people and place, but it feels as though I am coming out of a deep sleep and a long dream of the Pacific Northwest. A dream where you want to go back to sleep but you know you need to wake up. And if you were to go back to sleep, everything would be slightly shifted. It's not possible to go back once you wake up to reality. I've spent the last few hours trying.
I arrived in the PNW in the heart of summer. Hot weather and no rain in sight, the fruit trees were beginning to droop with the weight of the ripening fruit. The rafting scene was in full force. It seemed that everybody was in the gorge and everybody wanted to go rafting. My first week I got my bearings. I met some real-live pacific northwesters while hitchhiking, memorized Tyler's various notes of interp on the area after my third rafting trip and desperately tried to win the affection of Abe's dog Henry. The Gorge is known as a mecca for wind and water sports but on lazier days you can bask in the spectacular views of volcanoes and skinny dip in secluded swimming holes.
One small annoyance of mine was how difficult it was to cross between the two states without a car. A toll bridge crosses the Columbia and links White Salmon, WA to Hood River, OR, however this bridge is barely wide enough for two cars and has no biking or walking lane. So before I made friends and had multiple cars at my disposal I became quite accustomed to hitchhiking. Most of the folks picking me up were older couples that were worried about a young girl like me hitchhiking across the bridge but I met some wonderfully interesting folks as well. Among my favorites was a woman who fled Mexico because the man she was going to marry was a serial killer (the conversation was in spanish so details might not be entirely correct) and a nice young family going to pick huckleberries for the weekend that offered to pack me a bowl of the finest Pacific Northwest weed. Gotta love the folks up here.
Week two I actually had made some of my very own friends. I rafted a little bit but spent more time exploring the gorge with Jackie and actually got to paddle a few days thanks to Mandy and others I began to call my friends. Henry finally warmed up to me, it only took a month in Ecuador and nearly two weeks in the states. The mornings were getting a little cooler and the days a bit shorter (they lose about 3 minutes of light every day). Week two ended in Tyler's birthday party after which I took a mini stay-cation to Corvallis, OR to visit a very good friend of mine. We spent the weekend picking blueberries and visiting the wildlife center (along with a trip or two to the bakery on her husband's insistence).
The third and fourth weeks fall began to set in. The rafting scene calmed down a bit and it was easier to find people to paddle with. Jackie and I toured the farmers' markets. I ate at Thai cart with Hannah. I ate there again the next day with Tyler. Pretty much I lived off of Thai cart, Killer Burger and blueberry bagels (with the occasional Saturday Night Dinner or North Camp cooking frenzy thrown in the mix). More people left, a few were added into the mix and much to my surprise I was still there. Although we could feel fall coming there was still plenty of sunshine and no rain. Two days before I left a wildfire broke out. At night you could see the embers burning near the road and the flames dancing on the hillside. Smoke filled the gorge.
When I left the fire was 40% contained. This was an improvement on the previous days, however driving towards Portland you could see the scarred landscape and the smoke was still heavy. I loved the warm days and the plentiful sunshine but I guess with too much of that a fire was bound to start. Luckily it seemed to be getting manageable and I hope that nobody has been hurt.
It is funny how that fire had such an impact on my trip, how I have to work to remember the three and a half weeks of adventures before but the smoke and the flames leap so easily to my mind. I wrote a list on the airplane of all of my favorite memories of my trip and I think that was helpful in me remembering the big picture: Puff Falls, sleep in mornings, adventure planning, Jackie the dog, Curious Gorge adventures with Jackie the human, new friends, blackberry bushes, Steamboat Mountain, climbing Mt. Adams, Thai cart, slacklining...there are a lot more and I do not want to type them all, but you get the gist. A month in a place might be just enough time to get to know it. I am glad I left when I did, but I left with a feeling that I need to go back. It feels surreal right now, like a good dream, one that I want to remember.