Wandering Retirees

Cottage Grove, OR to Kennewick, WA

Today was a traveling day, about 340 miles from Cottage Grove, OR to Kennewick, WA. Traffic was a problem around Portland. Stop and go for no apparent reason. Kind of like Philly but worse. Even fewer folks have the luxury option of turn signals installed in their vehicles. Only refinement and a sense of decorum prevented the Jersey driver side from coming out. Verbally. Loudly, complete with naughty words.

We picked up I-84 and headed east along the Columbia River. Beautiful, lush terrain surrounded us as we rode through the rain. The overcast skies gave the river a steely grey-green look that was striking. We were impressed because the Columbia is a river that meets the definition of a river. It’s true dinky at all like so many western so-called rivers. It looked to be about a half-mile across in places, in the same way the Delaware or Mississippi is wide. It’s big enough to have shipping and dams and things. Like a river is supposed to be, you know?

Eventually, the rain stopped and the terrain became arid, not unlike New Mexico or Southern Utah. These are old, old hills that make up ground above the Columbia gorge, covered with light tan grasses that last saw the rain weeks ago.  Farmers in this area are working overtime to turn the land into verdant circles.  The fields we saw appear to be mostly alfalfa and hay, which begs the question, where is the livestock? We even passed a tree farm!  The fields are circular because the irrigation/spray system that travels around a central hub. I’ve noticed these green circles before when flying over, and on Google satellite.  It’s good to understand the “why.”

We arrived in Kennewick around 4:30 and hit the local grocery to pick up our dinner and some sundries. Heading to the hotel was an adventure. Henceforth I shall refrain from complaining about Jersey or NY drivers. (Pennsy is still fair game.) These people are truly terrible on the road. It seems the worse the driver, the better the car. A young lady suddenly pulled out in front of us forcing a fast reaction. I confess the continued use of foul language and used large, unmistakable gestures. Was the driver sheepish at all? No, she was not. A cheery wave and ingenue smile were her offerings. Akin to the old question about a tree in the woods: is an insult still an insult if it’s not understood? Is being oblivious a valid defense? Such questions are beyond me at this point because there’s too much data. During the three mile ride to the motel, we encountered a number of additional suspects. I don’t think they are actually stupid, the drivers we encountered just seem to make their minds up late on their next maneuver. Thinking a block ahead is rough work. Thank the Lord we didn’t meet anyone driving farm machinery.

The morning promise of a rainy day.

Hello, Portland!

In the span of forty miles, we went from lush to arid.

Take a minute to study the photo below.  Evergreen?

One of several dams we saw while traveling along the Columbia River.