Revisiting The Dalles and Stonehenge

I have been either too tired or too busy to post since returning home.  But through my notes, itinerary, photos and souvenirs I have reconstructed our travels. I have also repeated some of the story and photos here from a previous post.

 

We left the hotel in The Dalles early, grabbed some breakfast and headed up to the Columbia River Gorge Discovery Center just west of The Dalles.  We spent some time there taking photos and exploring the little museum. I especially liked the life-size mammoth.

View from the Discovery Center

Rick hamming it up.

And me, too.

Meeting the mammoth

Rick at the Maryhill Art Museum

Mount Hood to the west of us now.

Then we headed upriver toward Maryhill, Washington.  I was expecting to find a town, but instead discovered that there is only an art museum—off by itself on a mountainside—and one of the American Stonehenges.  This one is built to scale, but seems misplaced in the landscape.  I was stunned at the emptiness of the landscape.  It was a high, dry, windy place with treeless rugged hills populated only by yellowed grass and white windmills. And the further east we went, the emptier it became.

We noticed an occasional thunk-ing sound in the transmission as we climbed higher in the Gorge.  It was a very bright, sunny day, and extremely dry (high desert), and I was sitting on the south side of the car.  I started to feel the heat even at the Stonehenge, but by the time we crossed into Washington, I was really cooking in the sun.  Heat exhaustion began to creep in, making me disoriented, irritable, unhappy.  I draped a towel over my window and part of my side of the windshield, but even the indirect light surrounding the car soon seemed to be overwhelming.  My eyes ached with the brightness of it.

Mile and miles of empty yellow rocky grass country.  Both the land and the grass were yellow, making a continuously bright reflective landscape.  And the transmission began to clunk more often.  My stomach lurched with anxiety—would we get stuck out here in this empty place with no cell service?  

We entered Hermiston, Oregon, and decided to try to get the transmission looked at.  The Ford dealership was no help whatsoever—wanting us to come in the next morning with a minimum of $140 just to look at it. We tried to rent a room, but there was a rodeo in town and there were no rooms available.  We stopped at a Les Schwab tire center and asked them for a recommendation.  They sent us up the highway a little further to Pioneer Transmission.  There a very knowledgeable, helpful man named Mark spent the better part of an hour running diagnostics, and test driving the Explorer.  His final verdict: there was nothing wrong with our transmission; it was simply too small to tote a trailer. 

This meant a change of plans.  Now we would have to hope we could make it to the Quad Cities, then figure out a way to sell the Explorer and buy something bigger that would tow the trailer home to Oregon, loaded with furniture.  Another issue to fret over, but I tried to remain optimistic—if anyone could make such a thing happen, we could! 

So we got back on the highway, across that empty landscape. Interstate 84 (which is also US Route 30—the Lincoln Highway) conjoins with Interstate 82 there at Hermiston, which then runs north crossing over the Columbia River into Washington. From there we picked up the Interstate 182, crossing the river again at Kennewick, Washington, to pick up US Highway 395 toward the I-90. 

A point of  interest in an otherwise naked landscape.

Approaching Kennewick

 

We spent the night at Ritzville, right at the junction of 90, and watched a fat full moon rise over the moon-like landscape.  We had been on the road all day, arriving just at sunset, but only traveled a little over 200 miles—sightseeing and the car issue had delayed us by an extra day.  My original plan had us in Idaho or Montana, but you must remain flexible when traveling, because stuff happens.

TRAVELOGUE: Eugene to Mary Hill, Washington--Off to my youngest daughter's wedding in Iowa.

(Reconstructed from travel notes)

Ready with our shiny new trailer.

September 14:  Off we go!  And two wild foxes greeted us near Coburg.  One interpretation of fox:  

Shape shifting, cleverness, observational skills, cunning, stealth,
camouflage, feminine, courage, invisibility, ability to observe unseen,
persistence, gentleness, swiftness, wisdom, reliable friend, magic,
shape shifting, invisibility.

Stay low profile, observe closely, rely on your instincts, allow yourself to perceive the invisible.   

We visited five bookstores in the greater Portland area and made two sales.  I will need to follow up when I get home and see if I can arrange any appearances or book signings. 

As usual, visiting the bookstores opened my psychic senses and I was very sensitive to my surroundings for the rest of the trip.  But all in all, it was a positive experience, helping to pay for hotel rooms. 

Mount Hood from Portland

In the days before our departure, I had a screen saver (more like a screen opener?) from my new (and unwanted, but that is another story) Windows 10.  The image on this was of a magnificent view of a mountain vista with a river running through it.  "Where is that located?" I wondered.  Fortunately these photos Windows shows when you first open your computer have a place in the corner where, if you hover your mouse, you can see the location.  I figured this place was somewhere far away, Europe or maybe New Zealand.  But this was listed as "Vista House, Columbia River Gorge, Oregon." 

I took this as a sign from Spirit that I needed to experience this for myself, so I looked up how to get there.  The location where the photo was taken was at the Women's Forum State Scenic View Point.  I was very happy to find the exact same vista as the one in the photo and take my own pictures!

 My pictures were taken in the afternoon and it was a bit hazy and the one I had seen was taken in the morning in clear light, but I was pleased neverthless.

Found Byl’s house early evening in the Dalles.  So nice to visit with old friends.   

Byl in his native environment at home.

We talked about old times, “garbanzo,” our trip to the concert in Chicago in July of 1976 in a VW Bug—four of us—to see Yes, Peter Frampton, Gary Wright, and Lynard Skynard, and how we smoked ourselves straight.  

It was a full moon that evening and we had a long and lovely visit.  When it came time to go to the trailer to sleep, Rick decided he needed a hotel instead, so we went downtown and found a room for the night.  ($81--which we discovered later is about average for a hotel these days, at least in the west.)

Ad for the concert we attended on August 13, 1976.

The next morning after breakfast at McDonald's and depositing a check at Wells Fargo, we visited the Columbia Gorge Discovery Center and learned more about the history and geology of the area and got some beautiful photos.  

It was a bright crisp morning and the denuded mountains were starkly impressive, especially through the glass windows of the Discovery Center.  

We saw native art, local wildlife displays, a giant mammoth reproduction, wildflowers and geology illustrations and demonstrations. We also found some opportunities to ham it up for the camera.

Columbia Gorge Discovery Center

Then it was up river to find our way to I-90.  The further up the river we went, the more desolate it became.

 We detoured to Mary Hill, which I thought was a town, but is more of an attraction.  We drove up  US 97 (and I mean UP!) to a scenic overlook near Goldendale where we could see Mt. Hood to the southwest, Mt. Adams to the northeast, Mt. St. Helen’s behind it (not this day, too hazy) and Mt. Ranier to the north-northeast.  Then we went back down to Mary Hill and visited the American Stonehenge. 

Odd place.  It felt like Sam Hill had captured or harnessed the earth energy, but he had erected it for the wrong reasons.  It says he built it as a war memorial, because Stonehenge had once been used as a place for human sacrifice.  And it seemed to be in the wrong landscape, seemed to be almost suffering with it.  It was a high, dry, windy place. Treeless rugged hills populated only by yellowed grass and white windmills. The Stonehenge itself sits on a flat outcropping above a church and a vineyard.  

At any rate, it was something to see and feel.  Go, if you get the chance.

America's Stonehenge

Mount Adams

From the lookout point near Goldendale.  Note the hazy mountain in the background--Mt. St. Helen's, I think.

Rick at Mary Hill Museum

Mount Hood from the east.

Mt. Adams from the lookout point on US 97.

Goldendale Hay in the Klickitat Valley.

Rick at Stonehenge

From there we followed I-84 east to I-82 at Kennewick.  From there, we took US 395 north to the I-90.  If the upper Columbia River Valley is desolate, then eastern Washington should be considered no-mans’ land.  I never saw a duller, more oppressive landscape.  Now, you have to realize that I am not a prairie girl in any way, shape or form, despite my many years living in the Midwest.  I am a mountain girl, and flat empty places depress me.  So please accept my apologies—anyone living in eastern Washington who loves it.  I do not mean to offend, merely to share my travel experience.

At last we got on the I-90 heading due east, where I sat for the next 8 days in the sun.  But more about that later.

Elephants

September 4, 2016

This is my latest painting-in-progress.  I was inspired by the calendar picture above left, which shows a herd of elephants.  I chose to include only the two females and the baby elephant for my painting.  I am working slowly, in layers of color and it is taking on a depth I'd never achieved before in my work. 

August 31, 2016: early stages

August 31, 2016: Adding another layer.