Traveling Past Multnomah . . .

We're on the road again, driving slowly south from Spokane, past hills still coated with snow, down to the desert in Tucson, where my sister sips morning coffee on her patio, wearing shorts in 80 degree weather.

The morning was clear enough, once we dropped down from the rolling hills of eastern Washington, that we caught the tip of Mount Hood as we entered the Columbia Gorge. Then, just as we got used to hills covered with pines, we rounded a corner, and there she was revealed fully:  Mount Hood.

Mount Hood from McCall Point (Wikipedia)

We stopped at Multnomah Falls, and I wondered what those first travellers through the gorge must have thought at this pair of falls from tip to base measuring over 600 feet. Starvation Creek is near, so that gives some indication. I had forgotten that a 70-ton boulder fell from the top of Multnomah Falls in 1994. No one was injured, but this wasn't the first time rocks have tumbled down these great falls. I wonder what native peoples thought of these falls so long ago.

This story from the Wasco traditions tells how Coyote wooed a young woman. Repeated gifts do not lead the young girl to say yes, but once he builds the falls and a private pool for her, the grandmothers weigh in. The story  doesn't end with 'happily ever after' -- it ends with an admonition that we listen well to the story and to nature. 

I've changed the heading here, for Africa was last year's trip, though the memories yet challenge me to write more. And a trip across Canada promises a rich summer ahead. Once, along the Columbia Gorge, I saw the stone carving of She Who Watches . . . she who protects all who travel. I wish you well on your journey.

Source: Wikipedia Multnomah Falls.

Farewell to the Gorge . . .

Yesterday we drove out along the Columbia Gorge for our last visit to the Multnomah Falls, taking along three-year-old JoePa (and his father). It was JoePa's first visit to the falls. "Oh, wow," he said. Oh, wow, I thought. These falls thrill me every time. And I'd like to think I see these falls with the eyes of a child.



You can hear Allen and JoePa talking over the roar of the falls. He was simply delighted by the falls, easy to hug, quick to laugh. We ate corndogs and drove back to Portland in the dark. Then after a family dinner and stories of how we met so long ago, we drove home to Vancouver, over the bridge, ready for the next journey south.