Dallesport, Washington

Sunday, April 21, 2002

Today's adventure was a bit of an experiment. STraddle and I had never gone on a long freeway trip and I thought it would be good to see how she performed on "the slab." The route I chose was almost all freeway -- Hwy 84 through the Columbia River Gorge.

STraddle loved the highway and was quite excited as we left Troutdale because the speed limit went up to 65. I think she thought that meant 6500 RPM, but we showed some restraint... eventually.

Interstate 84 runs east and west along the Oregon side of the Columbia River. This area is revered for its natural beauty and notorious for its high winds. The channel cut into the rock hundreds of feet above the river banks act as a kind of wind tunnel, funneling the east winds into the Portland metro area.

The river is popular with sail board enthusiasts who, having even less sense than motorcyclists, think it is a good idea to play in the water atop a surfboard while being pushed around by the wind.

About thirty miles out of town, descending from high above the cliffs is Multnomah Falls. This is a popular tourist attraction with people travelling to or through the area. At the base of the falls is a restaurant and gift shop. Nearer the water, a foot bridge spans a large pool where the falling water collects (no, the water is not recycled... this is a real waterfall.)

Years ago, when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I was a kid, a person could hike up, around and under the falls. I've done this many times. However, erosion and other safety concerns have severely limited this activity. A few years ago, for instance, a wedding party was tragically interrupted when part of the cliff face broke lose, sending a truck-sized boulder crashing down on to some of the participants. Gross.

In no time at all we resumed our trek eastward along the highway, keeping a close eye out for Enforcers and for large trucks with shifting loads. We passed Bonneville Dam and the associated fish hatchery. Hydro-electric fish? The hatchery is necessary because some of the salmon fall through the carp-le tunnel and into a gigantic Bass-o-Matic.

With each passing mile the winds increased in intensity, violently buffeting my helmet. I dropped my head down behind the windscreen for some relief, but I was by no means more comfortable.

To keep my wits about me, I reminded myself of the physical reality: STraddle and I have a combined weight of over 850 pounds. As long as I kept the gyroscopic effect from my spinning wheels going, I was mostly okay. This worked for a while. I clamped my legs even more tightly around the tank, put on my game face and pressed on to The Dalles.

Just across the river was my destination: The Columbia Hills RV Park in Dallesport (a "town" named for the airPORT across from the DALLES, get it?)

When I arrived I collected a rally stamp and then took some time to survey my surroundings and to consider how relatively safe I had been though all of that wind. I began to feel more confident; emboldened by the notion that what could not destroy me made me stronger.

There is a very interesting monument just to the east on the Washington side of the river and I had made up my mind that I would go visit that before heading home. As I pulled back out onto the road, the wind hit me again.

Bravely running away, I high-tailed it home again.

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