(Mis)Adventures in Boating

Several weeks ago, a couple who attend the same church that I do invited me to visit them at their house on Oswego Lake and go for a boat ride. Here's a little lake history, back in the day it was called Sucker Lake (charming name, isn't it?). There are different stories about how it's a man-made lake but also was formed during the Missoula Flood. Perhaps the truth is a combination of the two. The lake is joined to the Willamette River by Sucker Creek, and there is also at least one canal joining it to the Tualatin River. In the late 1800's it was used to transport iron from the local iron mine down to the smelter, which was several miles away at what is now George Rogers Park. Now, it's a private lake owned and maintained by those who live around it. There is public swimming access, but if the idea is staying above the water, that's another story.

When Leon invited me to come take pictures, I jumped at the chance. After living in Lake Oswego for eight years, the closest I'd gotten to the lake was the "Duck Pond" in downtown. The view from their house was captivating enough, and I couldn't wait to go for a boat ride. However, the matter of a large bit of a canvas barrier that was part of the remodel next door getting caught in the boat's propeller, prop, blade, etc., caused a bit of a delay. While Leon was busy untangling the cloth, Sharon got out the paddle boards and gave me a quick lesson on how to ride one without taking a nose dive. Ever since I've seen groups of kids gliding along the surface of the water, I've wanted to try this. It wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be, and after a few minutes I was headed off for a quick tour. I knew all those years riding skateboards when I was a kid would come in handy.

After about 20 minutes, Leon drove the boat out, free of its slimy canvas entanglements. We then headed off under the little bridge on North Shore Drive and out into the "big lake." And it was certainly bigger than I realized. As many times as I've run, walked, or driven around it, I never realized how vast it really was.

The sun was not in the ideal spot on the way out, but I wasn't complaining. Leon told me about the history of the homes as we went by and stopped to let me take pictures of anything interesting, which was about every five feet.

Things were going swimmingly (no pun intended), when all of a sudden there was silence instead of boat motor noise. After numerous attempts to get the engine started and attempting to flag down the only blind boater on the lake, Leon got out the oar and paddled us to the nearest dock. We tied the boat up and went up the stairs to find out who our new best friends would be. Of course, I had to take a picture because it was a really nice view. Unfortunately, no one was home at

either of those homes, so we trooped next door and down more stairs. The lady of the house let Leon use her phone to call the lake patrol. They are a group of off-duty firemen who help rescue boaters and patrol the lake to make sure everyone is following the rules. Of course, this particular day, no one was on duty. So, back to the boat and into the lake to try and flag down a good Samaritan.

This time we were more successful, and some very nice people towed us all the way back home. It was a much slower ride back, but it gave me more chances to enjoy the scenery.  The house below is also known as Casablanca, and for good reason. It was once occupied by Humphrey Bogart and his wife Mayo Methot, the wife before Lauren Bacall. We soon

 were safely back and thanked our rescuers, who happened to live right across the bay from Leon and Sharon. They were both so apologetic, but there was no reason to be. I'm now assured of more visits out there to make up for all the mishaps that happened on this one.

Rain and/or Shine

 Fall and spring are the times of year when you never know what to wear. Just because the ark floated by your window does not mean that in 10 minutes the sun will not be shining. Add the appropriate temperature adjustments for both rain and shine and it's easy to see how you could walk out of the house with a wardrobe trunk that would make any Vaudeville performer proud. Yesterday's sunrise was as unpredictable as the weather. I left the house and drove to a nearby area where a house is being built. The backyard looks onto both the lake of Lake Oswego with Mt. Hood vying for attention in the background. Even more importantly, no trees obstruct the view, and a tree free view is difficult to come by. The only problem was that, unbeknownst to me, the workmen also had Saturday hours. Silly me to think I'd have that view all to myself at 7:00 on a Saturday morning. The view was actually rather disappointing because of all the clouds, and after sinking in the mud for a few minutes, I drove home. However, as I pulled into the apartment complex, there was a glorious light coming from the east. So, back to the old standby viewing area, complete with obstructing trees, to get a few shots before it was too late. It started raining on the way home, which set the tone for the rest of the day. The target walking area for Saturday was the St. John's Bridge in northwest Portland, and then on to Sauvie Island. The St. John's Bridge is a suspension bridge built in the late 1920's. It's Gothic spires easily make it one of Portland's most recognizable landmarks. Up to now I've only admired it from a distance but had yet to photograph it. Portland's skyline is easily visible

from St. John's with the Steel Bridge in the foreground. The clouds really put on a good show yesterday, in between rainstorms that is. The goal was to walk from Cathedral Park, across the bridge, and to Sauvie Island. It didn't look that far on Google, no more than a few miles or so. As I walked along Highway 30 (in the bike lane, not to worry), I got out my GPS to see how much farther there was to go. Imagine my surprise when it said nine miles. Hmm, a twenty-mile round trip wasn't quite what I had in mind. I turned around and headed back to the car with the newly formulated Plan B on the agenda: drive to the park and ride at Sauvie Island and walk the two miles to the Pumpkin Patch. That turned out to be a good plan because coming over the hills to the west were dark clouds and with them some pretty serious rain drops. I was very happy not to be walking along the road with all those cars splashing me. It had mostly quit by the time I got to the island (and I must have had a bad address because it would have only been about 14 miles, which wouldn't have been too bad). Sauvie Island is an agricultural area connected to the mainland by a bridge with a colorful orange arch. It's known for its wildlife refuge as well as pumpkin picking places (say that three times fast), and I'm sure most of the residents dread the month of October as all the city folk come zipping along the narrow two-lane road to tromp around in the mud, buy produce, and get lost in the corn maze. It's a lovely area though and one I should visit in the summer when Mt. Hood is out. I was last at Sauvie Island two years ago on a beautiful, warm October day and the traffic was literally at a standstill. I

made much better time walking (one particularly burly man in a big pickup asked me if this was the way to the Pumpkin Patch, I hope he didn't think it was a bar). But this year because of the iffy weather, traffic zoomed by, totally oblivious to all the beautiful things to look at. The Pumpkin Patch itself, is a rather commercialized outfit with the corn maze, a big barn to buy produce in, complete with shopping carts, an area for kids to pet farm animals, and of course, pumpkins.

The actual walk to get there is more the purpose for the trip than the Pumpkin Patch itself. After looking around and tromping through the muddy parking lot to find the exit, it was time to head back home. The rain had ended by this time and it was a beautiful walk back with the sun shining full on the trees with the dark gray clouds behind them. I hope the people who drove by yesterday took a moment to enjoy the journey as well as the destination.

September Daze

Yesterday morning started off relatively early (well, for a Saturday) at 6:30ish. The sun is getting closer to rising over the peak of Mt. Hood and my goal is to capture it on film. What does one say now that we no longer use film? Capturing an image on SD card just doesn't have the same ring. Either way, the effect is the same. Less than a mile from my house is a fairly unobstructed view of Mt. Hood (if you stand on the curb at just the right spot) and even though the sun hasn't made it to the pinnacle yet, it's still a gorgeous view. Of course, I can't take just one shot so I have about 20 that look mostly like the picture at left. You never know when you might need a spare sunrise picture of Mt. Hood, and I want to be prepared. After a quick breakfast and the seasonal pumpkin spice cappuccino, it was time to head off in the general direction of the hills of northwest Portland. My aunt used to have a sign on her desk that said "indecision is the key to flexibility." That sums up a lot of my Saturday outings. I usually have a general idea of where I'm going but if I see something interesting, the plans can change in a moment. Such was the case as I was heading up a hill above Burnside. A parking spot was handy and I figured I could walk to the spot I had planned on parking in as well as I could drive there. After making sure there weren't any "no parking" signs hiding in the underbrush, I headed up the hill and toward one of the residential entrances to Forest Park. Soon I had gone from beautiful homes and flowers to the shady paths of the forest. After taking a right turn downhill, I was on my way to NW Cornell St. and, for me, uncharted territory. There was a group of walkers behind me and I must confess to a Gandalf-like voice echoing in my ears "You shall not pass!" as I sped up, determined that no one would outwalk me. I'm sure that's something I'll outgrow, well, maybe.

Once I reached NW Cornell, there was some consultation of the GPS, not to mention another walker, and then I continued along the road heading for another section of the Wildwood trail. I soon found it and was once again deep in the forest. There was a small trickle of water running in the creek and it was very peaceful as I crunched along the trail. I passed several intersections with other trails but continued on the same path. After awhile, I came upon a map with a very helpful "you are here" star. The only problem was there were two dotted lines radiating from the star showing two possible locations of where you actually were. Knowing what side of NW Cornell you were on was crucial. Fortunately, I did know so it wasn't difficult to figure out where I was and where the trail headed. At the next trail intersection, I headed out of the park and back into civilization. This part of northwest Portland is alive with Craftsman style homes and it almost feels as if you step out of the forest and into another era. I love the multi-colored stair railings that abound all over Portland.   Although, you do get some odd looks when people see you taking pictures of staircases. Then again, the motto here is "keep Portland weird" so I don't know why I should worry about a few sideways glances.

After about seven miles or so, I was back to my car and ready to head home. There was a short intermission from the day's fun for mundane chores like getting the oil in my car changed and vacuuming, one of my truly favorite pastimes, before I could go play photographer again. After seeing all the clouds build up in the afternoon sky, I thought there might be a chance for a nice sunset so I headed down to the lake in downtown Lake Oswego, to see what might come along. I love it when I'm not disappointed. There wasn't quite the color I had hoped for, but the clouds put on a spectacular show. At times, they almost resembled something from a Renaissance style fresco. There were a few boats still on the water, but overall there was a feeling of evening calm as the sun slowly sank behind the trees. The ducks also seemed to be enjoying it as they practiced their takeoffs and landings or calmly paddled past people eating a late dinner on the patio of a local restaurant. As far as weather goes, the Pacific Northwest is known mostly for its rainy interludes, but when it comes to an Indian Summer, this place is hard to beat.