Alps of America

"Alps of America" is what Eastern Oregon knows as.   After living only five hours away for over a dozen years, I managed to stay away this whole time.  And I found out I was not alone.  Most native Oregonians never have been there.  Upon hearing Eastern Oregon, several of them quickly told me that enjoy  Bend too.


On a late August day, Bobo and I started our journey on wheels.  By now, Bobo never have any doubt that she will have fun wherever our vacation place will be.  She asked me after twenty minutes: Are we there yet?  I realized that I never talked to her much about the trip and the place, besides encouraging her to learn about Oregon Trail.  The fun of having a kid is to dig out fun and enjoy it even more yourself.  Bobo gave me an eye and opportunity for a lot of beauty and fun in life.  Oregon trail story was sad and silly at times, but what we remember are the fun part.


Bobo and I were uncontrollably laughing one morning cuddling in bed reading: Out there in Oregon, pigs run around under acorn trees, round and fat and already cooked, with forks and knives sticking out of them, so you can cut a slice whever you want.  With a picture like this, who could resist not starting their journey to Oregon.


Zipping past the city, winding down the gorge, we wooed and aared about the prominence of wind turbine along the  Columnbia Gorge.  It's beautiful and grand to see turbines upclose, and feel the turning of people's understanding and commitment to environmental protection.
Dry and barren fields along the freeway finally yield to green grasses and little rivers.  We were entering walloah county.  Past Pendleton is the road I have never traveled.  We passed mountains and paths that I recognize from the Oregon trail books, the dreadful blue mountain...  what a small hill for a car!  I know I would never be able to appreciate the difficulty of passing it on foot in a wagon train with limited food and water as an eight years old.


It turns out our little cabin does not have Internet or cell phone service.  And oh by the way, no dish washer either.  Friend's kids born in America refused to use the cups from the cupboard because they were not sterilized by dishwasher.  The sofa was too soft, and not having Internet meant they would spend the rest of their indoor vacation time in front of a computer playing the same game.
On the other hand, I find the cabin to be cozy.  It's next to a little creek that feeds to Wallowah lake.  Bobo loves the woodpecker door bell and little rose flower print on our headboard.   It was a laidback night. 
On the second day, we adored the grand view from the top of Mt Howard after 15 minute tram ride that took us up to 8300 feet above the sealevel.  Greeted by dozens of zesty chipmonks, it was clear they are the hosts here.  We are the human strangers that show up during a few brief summer months.  Due to its altitude, the vegetation here is very different, resemble more the Alaska Tundra than the lush green you see at the valley where we stay.
The 360 degree view was astonishing, from colorful patches of the valley, to summit after summit of mountains around us.  We can see clearly into Idaho's Seven Devils' Mountain. 
That day, Bobo skipped in front of me most of the time during the hikes, cartwheeling here and there on every possible surface.  Her Teal sweater  was tied around her wais.  She had on a white Tee shirt with teal prints, a well fitned  denim capri at the bottom  Her perfectly round lotus root like legs was adored by Addida sneaker with a pair of white socks, shimmering sache trim shining under the shun.  Her perfect little frame jumps up and down when hiking downhill, skipping and walking with rythm and efficiency in fron of me or up ahead.  There is miracle all these little moments.  I can't help but wonder almost in disbelief how beautiful she is and how generous life is to me.  There has to be a God who loves me and who have brought all these small but overwhelming wonders and joy  around me.


After much more social time with the chipmonks, and a satisfying if not in quanlity but at least in quatity meal at the summit restaurant,  we hopped on the gondora to ride down the tram.  Bobo felt like she's the protector of our gondola because she had always known me to be afraid of height.  Actually necessity is a great teacher.  I managed it well enough to even enjoy the view with a little deep reservation and some deep yoga breathing.
We checked the town of Joseph briefly before we head back to the cabin and ate our dinner.  The bronze status in the town of Joseph was a very unique scene of its own.  I wish we brought our bikes.  Bobo really missed her bike.  We would have fun riding around and check out all the statues.  Instead we followed our friends to stores which was OK for me but rather tedious for Bobo.


We got up early in the morning to head to Snake River for JetBoat riding.  At 6:45am, we left the cabin in two cars.  I was following our friend and did not pay much attention.  Forty minutes into it, when I just congratulated myself of the easier than expected driving, we found out we were twenty minutes past our turn.  That put us forty minutes behind the schedule.  I could tell our friend was nervous.  I wondered how much tension was in that car.  Our two car quietly scurr around the Hells Canyon Scenic Byway.  Slowing down from time by time by animals like moose, deer, cows, chipmonks, we cruise down this road that we had no idea where it leaded.  We did not have a detailed enough map to tell us weather we were on the right path.  Our friends did not want to drive on the unfinished road the Ipod map lays out.  I am grateful for my calmness that day.  I was not too concerned if we missed our ride.  It's just money.  I am happy so long we are all safe.  I had enough gas for me to last for a long while.  With uncertainly of time and space, I was increasing struck by something else however, so overwelming that it does not give you space to escape -- the quietness comes to me with a scream.  It's not just quiet, it muffles all sound.  It feels the quietness with depth, but not necessarily peace.  Even the sound of the tires treading the road was this distant sissle.   It reminded of the dark matter, swallow it all.  I decide to let it in, not to kill or fight it with music.  Bobo was either enjoying the view, or thinking and worrying (about being late).  She worries too much, I think.  But being the example is my best way to tell her not to worry.  She will  just have to go through her own journey to get there.


Dashing down the bank of snake river was like watching ourselves in the car commercial or James Bond movie, windy and dangerous with lots of small fallen rocks to potentially veer the car off the road or thread the tire.  Fourty five minutes in to the dash, we finally found our destination.  Amazingly we didn't miss our boat.  We got there just in time, and we were not the last ones either.


The boat went down snake river and took us close to the Snake River Dam.  It was a grand site worth seeing.  there was not much white water for give us a lot of excitement, but we did visit an early settler's homestead and the lunch was pleasant.  To me, I was grateful for the views, and the opportunity to adore one of mother nature's endless wonder.  When my friend felt like they were short changed for the fair they pay, I was OK with everything and still enjoying the many little new things I learned: the life of three kids who only get out of the river bank once a year; a woman's hopeless effort to bring an organ to their simple stead via a boat... Where there is life, ancient or modern, educated or not, there is hope, effort and songs sung by ordinary people.


The ride back was worrisome for me because of my battle with height fobia while driving alongside the steep canyon walls.  I had it under control, we climbed all the way up to the ViewPoint.    It reminded our friend of Grand Canyon.
Wallowah lake has been calling us.  We spent our third day at Wallowa lake.  Our friends rented a motor boat for the day.  I rented the paddle boat with Bobo first.  Then at the last hour, Bobo "coerced" me into renting a kayak.  Her statement was: "Come on, we can do it.  I know how to kayak."  "Really, have you even done it before?"  "No.  But I kind of know how to kayak though."  With her insistance, I yielded in renting a kayak, and joked with the service person to keep an eye on us in case we needed rescue. 


At first, it seems we proved to ourselves we didn't know how to kayak.  We had a hard time to navigate out of the dock.  When we finally got out, we decided to hang close to the bank where the water is shallower.  Soon I got a hang of it, and the nerve started to relax.  We began to enjoy our ride across the lake.  Kayak is a much more efficient way to navigate in the water than paddle boat.  By the time we crossed the lake and came back, we were not even half time into our one hour slot.  The sun slowly falls behind the mountain, a vail is slowly expanding on the lake.  It was very quiet as more boats had left the water.  We enjoyed the breeze and listened intimately the sound of water kissing the paddle, and its gentle nudge of the kayak we were riding on.  It was heavenly.  Bobo, babbling in the front at some point managed to figure out how to peddle, and decidedly took over the peddling job while I rested.  We both had a great time.  As usual, Bobo didn't want to be late and be the only one left on the lake, and hurried the very reluctant Mom to return the boat. 


We met up with our friends on the shore and three deers quietly grazing on the park.  They were not afraid and quite at home with the presence of cars and people around them.  With entelors talls and showy, they really do not have to be fearful of the bare handed human.
All great vacation has the same end -- they do end.  I decided not to pursue the next part of the trip, Oregon Trail road trip as Bobo was not quite the age to appreciate it.  I figure I wanted to go back there in hopefully a year or two at a season when the mountains would have its snowy caps, slops the colors of many shades of yellow, pink, brown, red and green.  So long eatern Oregon!  As we were driving away, we stopped by Elgin to visit the ghost haunted but restored Opera house, its tiny jail house in the back, and a small hot spring swimming pool where hot spring bubbles up between the rocks at the bottom of the pool.  It felt like someone's backyard, rather than a public pool.
As we got close to the intersection to head home or Baker City, I asked Bobo if she wanted to go through Oregon Trail, she said no.  We drove the rest of the four and half hours with a brief dinner stop at Hood River.  Bobo had fun, and so did I.  Thank you Oregon.  What'a lovely place.