Gorging Ourselves (BBB Edition) #PDX #ColumbiaGorge
A hop, skip, and a jump up the Columbia River. There and back again. A gobbet’s journey.
Last Friday my wife and I left the PDX zone and carved our way up the Columbia River Gorge. This is our humble travel blog.
Why is this called the “BBB Edition?” The clever reader will find three “B” words carefully hidden within this post that will illuminate. See if you can find them all.
Bruisin’ Cruisin’
We drove from Portland to Spokane taking a route that paralleled the mighty Columbia River. If you’ve never been this way you’ve missed out on some amazing and breathtaking views. It’s an incredible drive. The Columbia Gorge was carved a few years ago, maybe more, leaving geological formations that have to be seen to be believed.
Meanwhile, somewhere along the trip, there’s a nice stretch of highway that was level and straight. So I put on the cruise control. We were in no particular hurry so I set a leisurely pace. Everyone was passing us, even the RVs and the pickup trucks hauling horse trailers.
We then had a couple Cruise Control Events that boggled my mind more than the Gorge itself.
One is called the Go and Stop. In this scenario you see a car in your rear view mirror. Gradually they gain on you. Eventually they ride your bumper with about six inches clearance. Finally they reach a decision point and make their signature move.
They pass and cut me off. Again, with six inches of clearance.
And then, somehow, the unthinkable. They slow down.
WTF?!
I’m forced to turn off the cruise control and wonder why my Ford Pinto didn’t come equipped with rocket launchers.
Stephen Hawking himself would be unable to explain this behavior.
The second event involved a car merging on the highway in the middle of nowhere. Again my cruise control was set and I was minding my own business. I became aware that someone was merging. I became aware it was a sheriff’s patrol car.
We were two cars converging on the same spot. Closer and closer he moved towards me. I could feel his hot and sticky breath on my neck. With amazing grace he matched our speed. This must be what docking in outer space is like.
Closer. Closer. Our cars were about to kiss.
Finally, I screamed out in anger and frustration. I hit the brake and he slid smoothly in front. The moment was lost. I had to admit it was a bit anti-climactic.
Bonus: During this trip I came up with my latest invention. It’s a holographic projector for your car that creates a three dimensional image of a vehicle exactly two car lengths in front. This causes other drivers to stay the fuck out of your personal space. I anticipate this invention will make me several trillion dollars.
You’re welcome!
This post was written on an iPad. I hope you appreciate my sacrifice.
A Bridge Too Scar: Whitewashing History
Kirk Reeves playing a trumpet on Hawthorne Bridge.
TriMet is the public agency that provides transportation services (commuter rail, light rail, bus and streetcar) for most of the Portland, Oregon, metropolitan area.
That opening line just screams excitement, right? Stay with me, intrepid reader. We are embarking on a torrid journey of governmental lunacy and polishing turds. Remember, it’s important for us lowly idiots to know how things really work.
This organization really got on my radar recently during the naming process for a new bridge spanning the mighty piranha-filled Willamette River that’s currently under construction. Because, as we all know, the most important characteristic about a bridge is its name. This is followed closely by how many years of neglect it takes before it fails with lots of people on it. Let’s face it. Maintenance is not exactly humanity’s strong suit.
The TriMet decided to enlist the public’s help in naming the bridge. And that’s where things decidedly jumped the rails. And I’m here to tell you about it because, amazingly, their own official website has whitewashed the whole thing from history. It’s almost like it never happened…
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Paddle Me Canoe Edition
Every great expedition begins with a solid plan. Seen here is an artist’s conceptual drawing of everything we imagined. We were decidedly not on solid ground.
Sauvie Island by Canoe
A Year Ago
Have you ever wanted something? Which do you think is preferable? Achieving it or remaining an interminable infinite loop of denial?
One year ago we moved to the big city of Portland, Oregon. Soon after we stunned by the sheer number of outside things to do. Tucked away here and there amidst the urban sprawl were remarkable natural areas to explore. I no longer remember how but somehow we became fixated on the idea of getting a canoe.
Owning a canoe became a frequent topic of discussion during the next year. We imagined the places we would go. We envisioned it as easy and inexpensive way to enjoy our new home. Need something to do? Just throw the canoe on the car and hit one of the many interesting places: rivers, lakes, sloughs and more. Viola.
I’d been in a canoe one before, but that was at church camp like 30 summers ago. I didn’t recall any bad memories so it must have been easy and fun. Right?
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Travel Slog: Portland to Hood River
Last weekend my wife and I decided to go exploring from Portland to Hood River, Oregon. Our new hometown of Portland, of course, you probably know well from the documentary series Portlandia. We moved here to do our part to help keep Portland “weird.” I took that as a personal invitation.
The city of Hood River is located about 60 miles east of Portland, 30 miles north of Mount Hood, and up the mighty Columbia River, upriver of the Bonneville Dam. It’s well known for it’s apples and pears.
Most of the journey cuts through the geologic and massively impressive Columbia River Gorge. Multnomah Falls is a well known landmark visible from the highway along the way.
After visiting Hood River, we departed on a 35-mile scene drive north of town named the “Fruit Loop” that wound its way through “orchards, forests, farmlands, delicious fruits, wineries, fields of fragrant lavender, and adorable alpacas.”
Of course my travel slog photography includes practically none of that scenic stuff. Below please enjoy other things that happened to catch my eye instead.
Guest blog: The date from Hell
Today is our sixth wedding anniversary. I checked the “official” book of anniversary gifts and found that “electrons” are the appropriate gift for number six. Therefore, I am turning over the blog (for today) to my lovely wife who will waste no time at all in availing herself of the opportunity to publicly eviscerate me. Enjoy!
My family are all fisherman and have had a long tradition of teaching each generation to fish. The older generations used bait and tackle – the easy way to fish. The young ones fly fish – the more difficult way to fish. My uncle was the first fly fisherman of the family. He taught my aunt to fly fish and my aunt taught my brother and me to fly fish. In keeping with tradition, I thought it was time for me to teach someone in my family. I figured it couldn’t be that hard. I caught on fast myself. For my first pupil, I chose Shouts, my indoor only, Star Wars loving, extremely logical, computer geek of a husband. This should have been my first clue that not everyone can be a teacher no matter what the subject.
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Rivering the stone cold nuts
This is the tale of a Texas Holdem “miracle card” on the river.
I had playing conservatively and pushing hard on solid hands. When I was called I generally took the pot with a strong hand, and if I lost a showdown it was generally because I had the best hand at the turn and was beaten by the river. So the players at this table could generally assume I was a pretty tight player who only moved in when I had the goods.
Unfortunately this screen shot doesn’t show the action that led up to this point. I had limped in and called weak bets all the way to the river. Both of my opponents were weakly playing the two-pair they had flopped. I called a weak bet at the turn hoping to see another diamond, thus getting a nut flush draw. That wasn’t mean to be.
Again they bet weak and I called, hoping to see a jack that wasn’t a diamond. (A jack of diamonds would mean there would be a potential flush on the board and I wouldn’t have the stone cold nuts.)
The odds of a non-diamond jack were about 6.5% in that situation. (That is three cards desired divided by the number of cards still unseen. Or 3 / 46 = 6.5%.) Bingo! I rivered that card for the stone cold nuts. An ace-high straight AKA “Broadway.” No other hand could beat me! The worst thing that could happen is someone else was holding KQ, too, and we’d split the pot.
Now these two players woke up and bet hard. Eventually they ended up all in and I had them both covered and every chip in the game was mine. Mwuhahahahaha!
It doesn’t happen often but when it does it is sweeeeeeet! 🙂
Personally I think flopping two pair can be extremely dangerous. You really need to bet it hard to get people away from their drawing hands. What you’re really hoping for is the board to pair aces or sixes and give you the full house. I’ve seen two pair on the flop end up losing way too many times. I almost consider it a jinx. I also consider it extremely dangerous to flop a straight, too. The danger is that the initial excitement of hitting something big can tie you to a losing hand. You have to be extremely careful.
Now please excuse me. I have to go count my chips. 🙂
Shouts from the Abyss 
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