Friday, June 22, 2012
Hells Canyon.
Bob’s range society has 2 meetings every year (sometimes the
national meeting, but always the 2 local ones).
When the girls were little, we joined him a few times: at Hart Mountain Antelope Refuge, where they
had hot springs in June, and at Salishan lodge on the ocean, with a hotel with
a fireplace and a hot tub in November.
But mostly, Bob at a meeting is a not-Bob, because he loves his rangy
friends and only sees them a few times a year, and we’re not his priority
then.
Still, he had this meeting in Eastern Oregon, and I am so
sick of the rain, and the sun was supposed to shine, and I was on vacation – so
I went with him to Baker City. We got
there, and he had a meeting, which lasted through dinner, and then I joined him
for an hour in the evening, and the meeting continued, and he had meeting over
breakfast and all the next day and the next day, till we left.
But, I went out. I
went to Hells Canyon. I passed through
the Powder River Valley, which is farmland and hills and mountains and a river. I was thinking about farms, and range land,
and large spaces, and wondering where besides the USA do they have enough SPACE
to grow cows? I think maybe they do in
Spain, because between Madrid and Grenada they had hills with cork trees and
big empty spaces. We have them too, and
they’re pretty big and empty. In Spain,
they put the people in cities, and have largely uninhabited spaces
between. We have these individual farms,
ranches – and the ranch people think they’re the backbone of the country.
Anyway, after the ranch area, I came to the Snake River,
which is Hells Canyon area. The cliffs
drop off, down right to the water and below.
The river has been dammed, so it’s not rugged and wild, but it’s pretty
rugged anyway – spectacularly steep, rocky cliffs, fantastic views. I took pictures I would like to paint, so
they may not be good photos, but they represent light and shadow in the way I
was thinking.
Along the Snake River, there are pictographs on some of the
rock faces. Stone carvings or paintings
by native americans. There are cliffs so
steep the gorge seems wider at the bottom than at the top. Layer upon layer of mountain. And hot in summer. Because the river has been dammed a few times,
it was something I could splash around in, so I did, and the fish jumped, and
the butterflies were all over, and caddis flies had just hatched/swarmed, so
the fish were really excited but the bugs were overwhelming. It was 93 degrees F that's 34 C. And the sun was shining. Hurrah for sunshine. And water.
And mountains.
