Mini-vacation

Last weekend, I skedaddled out of town up I-84 a ways to the Columbia River Gorge National Scenic Area along the Oregon/Washington border. It had been a few months since I'd been out of town and I needed a change of scenery, and even though spring is really coming on strong here in Boise, I needed that scenery to be thoroughly lush and green. I just couldn't imagine spending another weekend at home pulling weeds and running mundane errands. A friend had mentioned a visit to Skamania Lodge and the beauty of the surrounding area, which sounded like the perfect kind of long-weekend getaway. Except that Skamania Lodge is a little pricey for my tight budget, and not the kind of vacation I was looking for anyway, and during the planning stage of the trip, I came across the Cascade Locks Portland E KOA right across the river, and just down the road from the Bridge of the Gods. Kamping kabin + majestic bridge = exactly what I was looking for.

Home away from home

Bridge of the Gods, looking west along the Columbia River from Cascade Locks, Oregon

My mom and I had stayed in kamping kabins (hey, it's the KOA's spelling, not mine) in North Carolina and Virginia, and although there's nothing like waking up in a tent in the middle of nowhere, these kabins provide an adequate camping experience when you need something a little more civilized. It's still just a little too cool at night for me to tent-camp, and as a young female traveling alone, I appreciate the security of being able to lock a door at night. The basic kabins have bunkbeds on one side and a queen-size bed on the other side (think summer camp) with a small built-in table and chair, ceiling lights and fan, and two electrical outlets. This one had a small space heater as well. There's a fire pit and picnic table outside each kabin, so you can still feel like you're actually living outdoors. There's a central bathroom facility with showers, a sink to wash dishes, a soda machine, and a laundry facility - now with wi-fi. Don't worry, I did not avail myself of the wi-fi, soda machine, or laundry room. I unplugged, as instructed.

Meow

On my way out west on Friday, just after coming down off the Blue Mountains, I stopped in at the Prodigal Son Brewery in Pendleton, Oregon, for a tasty lunch and wandered around town a bit. The downtown seems lovely - a hopping main street, a river walk, even a tattoo parlor.

Pendleton is home to a huge rodeo in the fall, which explains why this town seems so hopping when other towns along this stretch of I-84 seem smaller and quieter. An hour or so later, the road slinks up close to the Columbia River, where gently sloping banks feature whirring wind turbines. Another hour later, I was at the Columbia Gorge Discovery Center and Wasco County Historical Museum, which explains the natural history of the gorge and how it was formed, features artifacts from the Native American tribes who have lived along the Columbia River for thousands of years, and takes visitors back in time to the early settlements along the river where people fished, panned for gold and shipped goods up and down the banks via boat and railroad.

This is where the scenery really gets good. I expected sheer cliffs along the river, with bare weathered rock in all directions. Instead, the cliffs reminded me of an Andes mint - chocolate brown rock dusted with the early shoots of bright green grasses and other plants. And it only got greener as I approached my destination. I've seen plenty of photos and movies that feature this part of the world, but they really don't do it justice. The dramatic skies, the twists and turns of the river through the gorge, the waterfalls that can be seen right from the highway, Mount Hood looming overhead. It was definitely a change in scenery from the brownness of the bunchgrasses and sagebrush in the areas just outside Boise.

After checking in at the KOA, I paid my dollar toll to cross the Bridge of the Gods and pulled into downtown Stevenson, Washington, where I dined at the Walking Man Brewery. As I sat on the porch and sipped my beer in the cool, damp air, a man standing in the lot next door began playing the bagpipes. Ah, vacation.

Random sculpture in Stevenson

Saturday, I again crossed the Bridge of the Gods and hit the Hamilton Mountain trail, an 8-mile loop past some gushing waterfalls, to the summit overlooking Bonneville Dam, across a saddle, and down an old fire road. Clouds hung low in the sky and obscured the view of the area, and the damp wind gusted heartily, so I didn't linger long at the summit. 

Of course, it had cleared up by the time I made it back down the mountain, but by then lots of people were on the trail, and I was thankful for the relative solitude on the mountain. I had planned to do two hikes that day, at the suggestion of a coworker who knows the area well, but the first hike wore me out so much that instead I stumbled back into Stevenson for tea and a homemade cinnamon roll, then forced myself to stay awake by wandering along the locks back on the Oregon side. Following an overpriced dinner in Troutdale 20 miles west (I should have eaten at Skamania Lodge!), I built a campfire back at home base and sipped hot cocoa while reading by the light of the headlamp. I had been enjoying the solitude of my trip, not having to really talk to anyone, taking my time and doing whatever I pleased, but the weariness of the long hike got to me, and a touch of loneliness set in. I vowed to hit the road early in the morning and spend some quality time at Home Sweet Home, having done enough to fulfill my wanderlust for the moment. But I awoke refreshed on Sunday morning and decided instead to drive back east and stop at the Rowena Crest trailhead for a shorter, less strenuous hike. 

It was a good decision. I was hoping to hike the Tom McCall trail up to another peak, hoping to catch a glimpse of the other nearby peaks in the clear morning air, but the trail is closed until May 1st to prevent erosion on the wet trails. Instead, I wandered around the Rowena Plateau, marveling at the tender wildflowers popping up all over, the swallows darting along the cliffs, the turkey vultures and other raptors soaring the rising thermals, and the mint-chocolate greenness of the gorge itself. 

The hike was restorative, and after seeing both rainforest and mountain plateau, I felt that I had sampled a sufficient variety of scenery for such a short trip. This is the third vacation I've taken alone, and the first one in which I've had to feed and entertain myself for more than 24 hours. I liked living in my little cabin, building a fire first thing in the morning and last thing in the evening. It felt like I was surviving, taking care of myself without any real chance of not surviving. The modern-day vision quest, just far enough away from civilization to feel the escape, but close enough to feel safe and not alone. Next time, there will be more waterfalls, more peaks, more campfire cooking, and more traveling companions.