July 13th
Another day in Oregon— which is synonymous with paradise, if you ask the natives. I spent the afternoon with Adrienne, Amanda, Tyler and Zach, visiting three different waterfalls in the Portland area. The Pacific Northwest feel was overwhelming: massive firs wrapped in moss, ferns splitting into exquisite fractals, mist clothing the air. Dampness in my breath, muddy rocks beneath my feet, sun and shadow mottling the sky.
The third waterfall was Oregon’s iconic one, Multnomah Falls. It spills in a white stream from the cliff edge 611 feet up, and as soon as Tyler told me that there’s a viewing balcony at the top, I knew I had to make the mile-long hike up to it. Zach joined me while the others demurred, and up we went.
Gritty pavement showed the way, flocked with thinner and thinner crowds as we climbed the switchbacks. Evergreen shaded us except when it cleared to reveal landslides at rest, covered in orange-green moss, with vistas of the Columbia Gorge River, over-swept with fluffy clouds that stretched across the water into Washington. Zach is one of the few people I’ve ever met who walks faster than me, and my blood pressed against my face and I gasped to take in enough air.
The view at the top was worth it all: a babbling creek, not unlike those in the Midwest, meandered its way before diving off the cliff in some sort of suicidal beauty. Round white droplets exploded into the air, shattering into mist, plunging into the valley below. The pictures I took couldn’t even begin to show the height and the wonder of that fall.
Fast-forward several hours. Now it’s nighttime and we’re in downtown Portland, stepping outside of a corner-store called Voodoo Doughnuts with a dozen packed in a baby-pink box. The whole band is here: Tyler, Adrienne, Amanda, Zach, Ayden, Kourtney, and me, plus two other friends. Our show was fun, but long: five hours from beginning to end. We decided that doughnuts were a must-have, and here we are.
The nine of us skip through the chilly night air, plop down on the bricks next to Skidmore Fountain, and tear into the doughnuts. Chocolate-dipped, maple-coated, doughnuts topped with Captain Krunch or sprinkles or sugar, stuffed with lemon cream, rolled in oreos— we devour them, leaving only a few for tomorrow, passing around chunks of the heavenly desserts, sharing each other’s germs beneath the yellow glow of the street lamps. Bums and hippies ask us to buy and sell and share drugs, and we politely refuse each time; the doughnuts are more than enough. Everyone is giddy. My legs are covered in goosebumps, but I don’t feel cold. The air is alive and time is awake and we are in Portland Oregon at 2:00am sharing doughnuts and talking and laughing beside the Skidmore Fountain and life could not be better.
We return home eventually, of course. Before I go to bed, Zach shows me a book of Lord of the Rings poems set to song. I can’t sight-sing that well, but I read a few aloud, curled up in the trailer that I share with Amanda, Ayden, Kourtney and Zach.
In western lands beneath the Sun
the flowers may rise in Spring,
the trees may bud, the waters run,
the merry finches sing.
Or there maybe ‘tis cloudless night
and swaying beeches bear
the Elven-stars as jewels white
amid their branching hair.
Though here at journey’s end I lie
in darkness buried deep,
beyond all towers strong and high,
beyond all mountains steep,
above all shadows rides the Sun
and Stars for ever dwell:
I will not say the Day is done,
nor bid the Stars farewell.
If I had to choose one memory that I could hold onto for the rest of my life, one memory that would cling to my soul even when all else fades away, I just might choose today.
~Lisa Shafter
No comments:
Post a Comment