Desert with water. That was the scene as I left Clarkston (but only after enjoying a Starbucks oatmeal and a non-fat, no-foam latte for breakfast). First it was the Snake River cutting its way through what would have been, apart from the life-giving water syphoned from it, a barren land. But the river, and the various streams and ultimately the churning Columbia, have been the flumes used to make the desert bloom. Heading west through increasingly larger towns the water was sucked from those seekers of the sea and sprayed and sprinkled by various means on wheat fields, grapevines, orchards and all manner of crops (including the famous sweet onions of Walla Walla - my favourite name for a city - Walla Walla Washington). The rivers, primarily the Columbia which I crossed several times to get the best ride, and the bone dry landscape feeding off them, were the themes of the day. I felt as if I were a river, proceeding home from faraway places but leaving part of me behind along the way, even as I consumed parts of the places I passed through as they become part of me. It found myself hoping that I have left something of value behind (besides innumerable MasterCard imprints) as I know have been enriched by what I now carry.
Okay, enough of the prose.
It was a warm and windy day that bore me on the somewhat fast (6 hour) 340 mile trip to Vancouver Washington, where I am staying with my wife's sister, Debi, and her husband, Gregg, (who put George and me up the first evening of our journey - May 29). It seemed fitting - finishing the circle. As well, it was Louis', my father-in-law, 80th birthday on July 7 and I wanted him to know how important he is to me (having lost my own father this past February things like this rank as more important now).
The Columbia River, and especially the famous "Gorge", provided a dramatic foreground when framed by the dry hills or sculpted cliffs that constrain its flow. Playground for some and scene of history for others (the famous Lewis and Clark expedition of 1804/5 resulting from Thomas Jefferson's Louisiana Purchase from the French - actually far more than Louisiana - 23% of the area of the continental US) travelled along its banks and down its powerful course to secure the beachfront of the Pacific for America (to avoid the encroaching Canadians who were joint owners of Vancouver Washington until the Oregon Treaty of 1846).
The scenic highlight of the day was the 1913-built Historic Columbia River Highway, which parallels the frenetic pace of the four lane Freeway 84. It is elegant (if a road can be described that way) and offers dramatic waterfalls hundreds of feet high (where Louis and Gregg have both left their incredibly artistic touch in the stonework they have performed there - the building in the photo is Louis's handiwork). Near its western end it rises to the Crown Point to offer a panoramic view of the route taken. It is there with a wave to that journey now nearly complete that I turned away to descend and to rest, wash my filthy Big Blue (one lady commented on observing my dusty and bug-spattered bike, "My it looks like you have been gone a long time.") and enjoy family before riding the final 300 miles home.
POSTSCRIPT - One request of any that may be reading this blog: If there are questions I have not answered that are boring a hole in your skull, please either post them in the Comments or email me at bobkuhn1@gmail.com, and I will try to address them.
