My wife and I traveled to Portland, Oregon a couple of weeks ago to visit one of our kids who was there on a business trip. We had no specific agenda other than to check things out in and around Portland and so we ended up at the Multnomah Falls along the Columbia River gorge, about 40 miles east of the city.
This came about haphazardly as we knew there was a mountain near Portland but not which mountain, and the guy at the visitor center at the airport said, “You really ought to check out Mt. Hood.” Some lady at the visitor center at the base of Mt. Hood said, “You really ought to check out the Columbia River gorge and the falls along the way.”
“Which falls?” we asked.
“You can’t miss ’em.” I think she was embarrassed about having to spell ‘Multnomah‘ on short notice, but she was right. You can’t miss the falls.
We walked up to that viewing bridge for a better look, and it’s a hoot. Totally worth it. The path continues, however, around the corner of the cliff. Out of curiosity, we kept walking. Another quarter mile along we encountered the first of eleven switchbacks going up the side of the gorge. Without too much more thought than we spend at wandering around Target, we decided to climb to the top of the gorge.
The path was no more than three feet wide, so it’s single-file the entire way. It started as paved with asphalt but quickly gave way to gravel. The higher we climbed, the thinner the path, and the more like mud the footing. Despite the precarious footing and the sheer drop over the edge, neither of us were worried. Comfort with this type of climbing is typical, I realized, because there were at least twenty other people making the climb who we encountered, and everybody seemed relaxed and unfazed having to move aside to pass along the edge.
I assume that anyone afraid of heights wouldn’t even make it past the first turn, so by default, everyone on the path was chill with this.
The view of the Columbia River on the way up the gorge.
At what turned out to be the final switchback, we encountered a woman seated (safely) on an interior ledge, crying, holding her head in her hands. My first instinct was to ask what’s wrong, what can I do, etc., but I also wanted to respect her privacy. She wasn’t bleeding or actively seeking help. I decided to summit, then check on her on the way back down. But she also had an iguana on her lap. It was just chilling there, watching us walk by, and tinted blue to match the woman’s jeans.
I learned that people who love iguanas might just carry the little critters anywhere, like Ellie Mae from the Beverly Hillbillies, and made a mental note to have my camera at the ready so I could sneak a shot of the iguana when we returned, before asking what was wrong.
At the summit, there was a sturdy platform positioned almost at the edge of the waterfall. It had a metal railing and a sign warning visitors to stay on the platform, as the surrounding ground was unsteady. But I didn’t read the sign until later because there was a woman standing on the railing leaning out for a better look over the falls. I muttered something like, “That doesn’t look safe.” She didn’t react.
A moment later, a young man crawled up from the ground in front of the platform. He had a huge camera around his neck; apparently, he ventured out onto the unsteady ground for a better shot, while his companion stood atop the railing.
The view was, in fact, amazing from the platform. I felt no need to climb the railing or venture out onto the edge of the gorge. But what do I know? I’m old and boring, I guess.
The view from 550 feet up, the top of the falls.
On the way back, the woman and her iguana were gone, so we trudged down the trail. A couple of switchbacks later, I heard footsteps approaching from behind at a rapid pace. I glanced back and a man and a woman were running down the trail. For exercise. I had all of a second to blurt out: “On our left,” and leaned aside to let them pass. They were soaked in sweat and didn’t break stride as they passed us, using the very edge of the trail as a foothold.
So my third realization is that one person’s crazy is another person’s fun, especially 500 feet up the side of a gorge.
Meanwhile, at My Writing Desk…
I’m having great fun rewriting the short story I’m working on. The only thing slowing me down is a class I’m taking on finding my comedic voice, which proves to be even more fun.
Maybe You’d Like
I’m partnering with an eclectic mix of authors sharing their books this Picayune in a group called “Get to Know New Authors.”
This is a chance to see every manner of book cover, and get a sense of what you like at a glance. They are all over the place, which is a great thing. We all have our favorite types of stories, and this a nice reminder.
Recommended Reading
Next Picayune
I’m working to have something fresh published for y’all to read. I’m guessing if you like the Picayune, you’ll like the new stuff.
Thanks for reading the Mickey Picayune.
All the best,
–mickey
P.S. I started an advertising campaign for two of my books on Amazon, and they keep slashing the price of Ruthless. So if you want to get it at a crazy/fun price, click here: https://www.amazon.com/Ruthless-Mickey-Hadick/dp/1956533052