The Oregon Wallowas Part I –> Deep Doo-Doo
It’s so very hard to start writing about a place that’s been on your mind for years. I felt the same way when we went to the Painted Hills last year and to the Columbia River Gorge the year before. These are places you dream about and yearn for, hoping that they won’t disappoint you after you’ve idolized them for so long, yet also hoping (in some twisted way) that they do, since it’s always easier to find the words when things are mediocre. You can only say “amazing” so many times, you know.
So here I am in this most difficult in-between place. We’ve arrived at the Wallowas, the high mountains of NE Oregon, the Yosemite of the north, the Little Switzerland of the Pacific Northwest and darn it, it’s everything I imagined and more. The deep blue lake before me is calm and placid, reflecting the high, white-tipped mountains behind it. Wildflowers dot the hills around me providing splashes of playful color on the landscape. Moraines formed by the action of Pleistocene glaciers many thousands of years ago rise like great green domes to each side, swaying with bright, green Spring grass. We drove through the most charming of little towns to get here, a place I already sense will win my heart, and there’s so much to do I’ve got no clue how I’m going to narrow it down to just two measly weeks.
On top of all that I’ve got to find the words to blog about this place. I’m in such deep doo-doo.
There’s nothing for it really but to launch myself over the side and straight into it. Kind of like the time I went illegal bungee jumping off a 350-foot bridge in the middle of the night (to cure my fear of heights, of course…which didn’t work by the way), but that’s a whoooole other story.
So, I leave you with the biggest of teases, the knowledge that there is so much more to come, but you only have glimpses of what that is. Now you know how I feel.
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