July 17

I am awake early. It is a windy morning up on this ridge. The sun is up, a golden globe illuminating the sky brilliantly, softly. We are sheltered somewhat from the gusting wind by a small patch of short fir trees. The sound of the blowing gales is great, though, like we are at sea or on the coast. The Columbia River Gorge is visible from the saddle just north of our camp. It is a beautiful sight -- such a wide, heavy blue. The steep walls rise up to cliff faces and summit themselves at a lush rolling green. Mt. Hood stands over it all, the lonely mountain looming, looking down over Dale...

I enjoy this time of the morning. Eliza invariably keeps sleeping, hungry for rest. I come to surface usually at around 5:00 or a little after, take a look around, boil some water for coffee or hot chocolate, prop myself on my elbows and look out the open tent flap at the dew on the ground or the sunlight spackling the flora. Today I have been reading. I picked up a novel in Trout Lake -- Robert Stone's 1975 National Book Award winning "Dog Soldiers." It has a sordid appeal to it; America, the world in turmoil; it fits the mold of what I've come to understand the Vietnam War era in the states as well as on the Front as being like. Profiteering, drugs, music, etc.

Today, we have only 12 miles or so to walk, downhill into the gorge and across the river on the Bridge of the Gods:

Home again!

***

We hit town at around noon. It is beautiful and hot. We are so excited to finally be in Oregon.

Now: On to Portland.