Rufus, OR

I drove through the Columbia River Gorge today and it’s like so much else of the northwest, big. The Historic Columbia River Highway cut through lush green forests, across old mossy bridges and next to more than a few long and crashing waterfalls. At one point it took me to an overlook above the river and I almost didn’t want to get out of Rocinante for the wind. Gusts were shaking my two-and-a-half ton steed like it was a Tonka Toy, and the other vehicles parked nearby weren’t faring any better. To look at them you’d have guessed we were at a make-out point rather than a scenic point. As soon as I stepped out the wind almost knocked me down and even tried to rip the camera out of my hands. I can honestly say I’ve never felt anything like it. Walking against it was such a struggle I was almost at the point of dropping to all fours and crawling back to Rocinante.

Right now I’m sitting at a free campground just below the John Day dam and despite the frequent trains and the interstate nearby, it is the best place I’ve stopped in a few days. In an earlier post I mentioned how this trip is wearing on me, one of the things I’ve noticed is all the stuff I took for granted. Just having access to a bathroom is nicer than you might imagine. The ability to get up and take a shower in the morning is such a luxury. That sort of thing is impossible for me while I’m camping. I can do a bucket bath in the evening, but I don’t like Scotch for breakfast and since I can only find the testicular fortitude for stripping down and getting wet in 30 degree winds after a healthy measure of whisky, all my bucket baths are drunk and nocturnal.