Weekend Music for the Eyes and Ears

This past weekend was my second trip to Ft. Worden State Park near Port Townsend, Washington (which is nestled on the edge of Puget Sound). The Scottish Country Dance group in Seattle holds their annual workshop and ball at the fort, and dancers from the U.S., Canada, and even Australia, arrive on Friday afternoon ready for a weekend of dancing fun. The group I travel with stays in Officers Row, which is like stepping back in time and always makes my modern apartment look rather shabby in comparison.

The dancing of course is the main draw, but there's a tiny part of me that loves the photo stalking opportunities almost as much. Construction on the fort began in the late 1890s. Ft. Worden, along with two other nearby forts, once guarded the entrance to Puget Sound. The picture above on the left was taken from a hill on the north end of the fort overlooking the parade grounds and Officers Row to the south.  Obviously this place is just running over with pictures to be taken. My goal this year was to capture the sunrise. The main obstacle was getting out of bed early after an evening of dancing that didn't end until after midnight. But since sunrises are more memorable than dreams, I set my alarm for 6:30 and tried to fall asleep as quickly as possible. When I woke up and looked out the window, the sky was beginning to lighten and I was afraid I had once again misread the sunrise table and blown my chance. I grabbed shoes, jacket, and camera and squeakily went down stairs (I'm convinced they made those stairs creaky on purpose so no officers tried to leave unnoticed at night).

Once out the door, I limped across the parade ground (we danced a lot on Friday night) and was crestfallen (I love that word!) to see what looked like the sun coming up out of the midst of the most beautiful clouds I can ever remember seeing. But after a moment, I could tell it was merely the old fashioned street light glowing in the distance. Breathing a sigh of relief, and with my foot now in a happier mood, I ran across the parade grounds to the top of the small bluff that overlooks the beach. The sun was still some time from arriving, but that didn't prevent what was like a symphony for the eyes from playing out before me. As the sun made its way up, the range of mountains was silhouetted against the morning sky and the ferry boats and various other small crafts made their way across the golden path that started to spread across the water. At that point, I decided the pilots of those boats had the best job in the world (probably not the case from November to late spring) and I hope they were able to enjoy it. After about half an hour, the symphony was over and it was time to return to the happy reality of dancing. Walking back to Officers Row, I spotted four or five deer meandering across the parade grounds. They have little to no fear of humans. One doe (I assume it was a doe because of the lack of antlers) was busy snacking on the growth around a small tree. A jogger was approaching and she seemingly took no notice of him but continued to happily munch away.

There's one more landmark of Ft. Worden I'd like to mention before I finish this post: Alexander's Castle. It's called a castle but it's more like a half castle. Built in the 1880s, it's the oldest building on the park grounds. It was built by the Reverend John Alexander and was designed to resemble the castle structures in his native Scotland. According to legend, he built it for a prospective bride, but when he returned to Scotland he found that she had married someone else. He returned to the U.S. and lived in the castle alone. All I can say is, that bride sure missed out on a lot of beautiful sunrises.

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.

Mt. Hood - The Mountain that Moves

Mt. St. Helens 

Mt. Rainier

Growing up in the southwestern part of the United States there weren't a lot of opportunities for mountain sightings.  Now, don't get me wrong, there are lots of places to hike and be in the mountains and enjoy nature, but there aren't many snow-capped mountain peaks hanging around in the high desert. The first time I traveled to Oregon and saw Mt. Hood it was hard to comprehend that in the middle of the summer, and while enjoying 70-80 degree weather, it was possible to see this looming white presence from downtown Portland.

I remember driving along I-5 and seeing over 11,222 feet of mountain ahead and wondering how it was that the other drivers on the highway were just going about their business instead of doing the obvious thing, which was to pull off the road and stand staring in rapt amazement. I guess it's possible to get used to seeing mountains on your morning commute, but I don't see how.

One of the little games I started playing when I first moved to the Portland area was finding the different spots where Mt. Hood was visible. Sometimes it was the whole mountain or the top third and sometimes it was just the tip, and only then on a clear day and at just the right spot in the road. A friend who has lived here for many years remembers when she could easily see Mt. Hood from an upstairs window, but now has to stand in the bathtub and hang her head out the bathroom window to get a glimpse of it through the trees. I haven't posted any pictures from those particular vantage points because there's nothing photo-worthy about them (and I don't often go standing in other people's bathtubs just to take a picture of the side of a mountain).

The pink sunrise picture was taken about a mile north of where I live on a crisp January morning. Now, if I do an about face, go to the top of the street, turn right, go down a block, turn left, and then wind my way up, the view is more like the picture above taken on a sunny June afternoon. Just to throw in an extra twist, if instead of crossing the street and turning left, I continue straight ahead, I can see the mountain bobbing and weaving ahead of me.  At the four-way stop if I turn left, guess what? The mountain turns with me, although now it's mostly hidden by the trees. Throw in a few more twists and turns on the way to the downtown area and this is the view you'll have on a clear fall day (full disclosure, I edited out the phone lines, I figured Mt. Hood was there first so it's not cheating). After six years, I'm still finding places in the city where the mountains are visible and I hadn't realized it. It's rather difficult not to stop and point at the mountain and, as someone is passing by, say to them, "Oh look, there's Mt. Hood." You get the oddest looks from people as they slowly back away from you.

Someone's Always Watching

I considered saving a post about this topic until I had more material, but then I decided this is sure to continue happening if I keep taking pictures. It's becoming more common for someone to make the comment "Oh, are you taking pictures?" as I stand with camera in hand and focus on some faraway object. I must admit to wanting to respond with "No, I'm trying to start my car" on those occasions but that hardly seems polite. There are three instances that stand out in my mind where the people  I encountered were either extremely kind, interesting, or just a bit on the over-protective side.

First there is Mr. X. I will probably never see him again and even if I did I probably wouldn't know who he was. I met Mr. X very early one morning as I was standing on a local bridge waiting to see if it was going to be a good sunrise. The skyline of Portland rolls out in front of you with no obstructions between you, the buildings and the sun (well, except maybe the clouds). I awoke very early that morning for some reason and of course the first thing that came to mind was going to take pictures. Isn't that what everyone thinks of at 5:00 on a Saturday morning? Well, never mind. I'm always afraid of missing something so I hurry to get somewhere and then end up waiting for a long, long time.

Such was the case this morning. And it was cold and windy on that bridge. I was focussing on the sky but noticed out of the corner of my eye that a car had driven by and then turned around. Intuition said the driver was coming back to ask me something. Sure enough, the car pulled up and the window rolled down. I remember a rather distinguished looking man with a small, clipped mustache was sitting in the driver's seat. He told me he was going to ask me a stupid question, but was I okay? Then he saw my camera around my neck and was instantly relieved. I sincerely hope he didn't feel foolish asking me if I was about to jump because it was really a kind thing for him to do. He went on his way and I continued to wait. This is a sample of what I waited for, nothing spectacular but not too bad. On the way down to the freeway I got a glimpse of I-5 with the sun behind it and, of course, had to find a place to park and snap a quick picture.

My next encounter was with Bob. It was another early Saturday and this time I wanted to focus on Mt. Hood. There are several places in town where you can get a fairly unobstructed view of the mountain as the sun comes up. Bob walked past me several times as I was standing by my car, staring at the sky. He probably wondered if the whole "Keep Portland Weird" idea was getting a little out of hand. He finally was able to see my camera and that's when the conversation began. He had lived in that neighborhood for many, many years and was able to give me a history of it and of the local area. He is a landscape painter and we spent quit some time discussing our favorite hiking areas and about the beauty of the Northwest.
Finally, the sun made its way over the rooftops and burst onto the scene, like a child on Christmas morning who just can't wait any longer. We both watched in silence as it came into view and then shook hands and promised to stay in touch. I do intend to go back there when the weather warms up a bit and find Bob's house (the green one) and see some of his paintings and meet his two dogs.



Last, but certainly not least, there was the elderly lady in the green Buick. I say elderly but she was certainly sharp, and very observant. I was photographing white camellia blossoms that had fallen on top of a stone wall. They were surrounded by shrubs so the background was very dark and made a wonderful contrast with the creamy white blooms. Very intent on experimenting with the shutter speed and exposure, I still noticed a car pass by and slow down. I figured it was someone who was lost and was going to ask for directions. I waited a moment and then moved on to some pink flowers along the same wall. Sure enough, the car turned and came near to where I was standing. The window rolled down and a very nicely dressed woman said "Do you mind if I ask you what you're doing?". She was actually very pleasant about it but the gist of it was she said I looked like spy trying not to get caught. I offered to show her my pictures but she said no, that was okay and she went on her way. The whole thing struck me as so funny I almost burst into laughter on the side of the street, but then that might attract attention. For one thing, I doubt most spies wear loud green Adidas t-shirts with capris and wander around taking pictures of flowers. But, you never know these days. Standards in every profession seem to be slipping.

Sunrise/Sunset Northwestern Style

After living here over six years (goodness, how time flies) this is the first winter/spring time I can remember having the opportunity to enjoy sunrises and sunsets. That probably doesn't sound like a big deal because, after all, the sun has been rising and setting for some time now. However, when  you don't see it for large blocks of time you tend to feel like it's shining on every part of the U.S. except for this cloudy corner. I could be exaggerating of course. Maybe it's just that this is the first year I've had camera in hand to actually witness this time of the day. Now, taking a picture of a sunrise or sunset may sound easy, but believe me it takes some planning. For one thing there are trees here, lots and lots of them. And, as trees tend to do, they block almost everything from sight and allow only glimpses of what's behind that leafy (or pine needley) curtain, as evidenced by the photo above.

The first item on the agenda of photographing a sun event is finding a place that is above the trees and is also not blocked by an obnoxious building. The I-5 bridge that crosses the Columbia River and puts you into Vancouver, Washington is a perfect place if you want to avoid obstacles, not to mention the added bonus of the reflections in the water to add to the interest. The picture with the twin contrails was taken on a January morning when I was headed to in the Vancouver office of my firm. The picture above it was taken along a sidewalk that runs above the river. The Portland airport is off in the distance. That turned out to be a bonus because several Southwest planes came in to land as I watched. Planes weren't the only thing in the air that day.  Canadian geese also chose that moment to show off their acrobatics over the still waters.

However, driving to Vancouver is not an option before going to work so with a little observation and thought I located three places within a five to ten minute drive from my house that give some decent views of both Mt. Hood and the sun for the morning and the sun's solo performance at night.The picture on the right was taken on an early March morning. I was taking the day off from work and could have slept in, but no, the sun had to wake me up. The nerve! The pink sunrise was on the way to work, and is unusual in that I've not seen the sky that color since then.

Sunsets are another issue. The best place to get a really clear shot would, again, be Vancouver but evening traffic is a hindrance and there's nothing more frustrating than sitting in your car as the sun sets. I have decided the sun moves a lot faster as it gets close to setting, probably something to do with gravitational pull (scientist that I am).  The picture to the left and the one below it were taken from an area known as Council Crest in Southwest Portland. It was a cold, windy day but sunny so everyone was out trying to soak up some Vitamin D. 


These last two pictures were captured spur of the moment after I looked out the window and saw that even with all the clouds (or maybe because of them) the sunset was going to be very colorful even if you didn't actually see the sun. I particularly liked the bird sitting in the tree, almost like he was the designated watchbird who was to make sure the sun really did set before reporting back to the flock. Now that sunrises and sunsets are seen more rarely I appreciate them more and have learned to be grateful for the things I was taking granted before they become only summertime memories.