From Cascade Locks, OR at mile 2155 to Gillette Lake at mile 2159
I think it may have been Cascade's rush hour-if a town of 1,100 can have a rush hour. I had toyed with the idea of eating an ice cream cone while walking across the Bridge of the Gods into Washington, but in the end, a walk into town with my too heavy pack on just felt overwhelming. Everything but one chocolate bunny, who I didn't want crushed, fit inside the pack.
We lingered at the bridge's enterance for an 18 wheeler that was so large it made the bridge look tiny to exit. We walked past the toll both attendent who told us to walk against traffic and we started across. Once over the water the pavement under our feet was replaced by an open grate.
One truck towing a car stopped and stuck his head out his open window. "Do you want some melon?" He called, holding up a quarter of cantelope melon. I almost said no because I wasn't sure how I was going to eat it, but earlier in the day I had been bemoaning my one piece of fruit town stop. I darted to his window, took the melon, and scurried back to my side of the road. He waved as he pulled away and I brought the melon to my face and took a bite.
There was no reading aloud on this stretch of road walk. It was hard enough to say "Welcome to Washington" loud enough when we passed the very small sign halfway across. We didn't even get pictures with the sign because a string of traffic came through at that moment.
I was happy to see another Welcome to Washington sign after the bridge. Portrait took a few photos of me in front of it. The whole time cars were flying by and he said I looked like I was worried about being run over in all the pictures. Finally we retreated to the woods and I finished eating my trail magic melon. By the time I was done I had melon juice from my forehead to chin and more dripping down my arms. It was a very classy moment that I was glad Portrait was able to witness.
The first mile of Washington was not scenic. We had a thin wall of shruby trees between us and the road and powerlines overhead. And then we passed on the edge of backyards. Then we finally made it into the woods of Washington.
After another mile of hiking we came across Moss sitting in the middle of the trail. She got up, brushed herself off, and hiked with us to Gillette Lake.
It was dusk when we got to camp. The lake was brown with plant life growing on top. Luckly there was a creek flowing into it to drink from. Because it was nearly dark it took awhile to find somewhere to camp. Portrait and I ended up in a huge site that could easily fit a dozen tents. The full moon lit up the clearing.
We brought our dinners over to Moss's tentsite. While she was getting water Portrait spotted a scorpian-in Washington of all places. We all studied it under headlamps. Moss captured it in her cookpot-what she intended to do with it I'm not sure she knew.
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| Town chores |
We lingered at the bridge's enterance for an 18 wheeler that was so large it made the bridge look tiny to exit. We walked past the toll both attendent who told us to walk against traffic and we started across. Once over the water the pavement under our feet was replaced by an open grate.
One truck towing a car stopped and stuck his head out his open window. "Do you want some melon?" He called, holding up a quarter of cantelope melon. I almost said no because I wasn't sure how I was going to eat it, but earlier in the day I had been bemoaning my one piece of fruit town stop. I darted to his window, took the melon, and scurried back to my side of the road. He waved as he pulled away and I brought the melon to my face and took a bite.
There was no reading aloud on this stretch of road walk. It was hard enough to say "Welcome to Washington" loud enough when we passed the very small sign halfway across. We didn't even get pictures with the sign because a string of traffic came through at that moment.
After another mile of hiking we came across Moss sitting in the middle of the trail. She got up, brushed herself off, and hiked with us to Gillette Lake.
It was dusk when we got to camp. The lake was brown with plant life growing on top. Luckly there was a creek flowing into it to drink from. Because it was nearly dark it took awhile to find somewhere to camp. Portrait and I ended up in a huge site that could easily fit a dozen tents. The full moon lit up the clearing.
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| Moss's pet scorpian |
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