Powell Butte

November 13, 2023

At the start of what’s by my standards an unusually social week I drive over to Caffe Umbria to have coffee with Elizabeth, picking up where we left off last week. We’ll probably meet again next week too, and again up in Seattle for Thanksgiving. And tomorrow morning I’ll have coffee with Bruce over at Clinton Street, and then Wednesday I’ll drive down to Salem for visits with Frank and Carl, another former colleague and friend I haven’t heard from or reached out to for too long who surprised me by dropping an email to comment on my ablation surgery. He’s been following the blog, apparently! It’s always startling to hear from someone out there that’s been tuning in unbeknownst to me.

The rhythm of our vagabond lives has left us with a pretty strange social existence. When we’re in town we pack in multiple visits in a brief period of time, and then we can go for months not seeing a familiar face other than for the occasional meetup on the road that we manage. It’s just a little unsettling to realize that after we leave town at the end of the month we’ll be gone for nearly a year, save for the brief time we plan on returning to Portland in February.

After coffee I head back to the apartment and touch base with Rachael before we each head off again. Before we leave we spend some time going over our current project, making bookings in Spain. We’re doing well working our way north and are just leaving Extremadura now. We’re closing in on the finish line for the first third of the tour - Santander, and the ferry for Plymouth.

I’m driving east to Powell Butte today, another biking destination I’ve never walked. I bring up the idea of driving Rachael with me so she can walk home, but then think the better of it. I’m not sure of the neighborhoods east of Mount Tabor and don’t want her to feel anxious and insecure walking through a marginal neighborhood. She agrees, and decides to head up into the West Hills again for her daily dozen or so.

It’s overcast but dry when I arrive at the Powell Butte parking lot and start climbing up toward the lookout at the top of the butte. It’s a familiar path, one I’ve biked up a number of times.

Climbing up Mountain View Lane. No view of the mountains today though.

This is the first time I’ve been to Powell Butte on foot, but this is also I think the first time I’ve been here under weather conditions like this. It’s far enough away from the places we typically stay that I only make it out here every year or two; and when I do, I’ve always watched for a day with good visibility so I can enjoy the views of the distant mountains.

I’ve never been out here when it’s grey and generally overcast like it is today though, and it has a quite different character. I enjoy seeing the place when the lighting is so different and clouds pile up dramatically above the nearby buttes.

And it’s different in a third way. On bike I’ve restricted myself to Mountain View Lane, the single paved path in the center of the park that snakes up to the summit for the views its name promises. Today I start up this path but soon branch off on the first unpaved footpath I come to, of which there are many, and find my way to different sections of the park I’ve never been to before.

No new birds again, which is a mild disappointment - I’m gradually coming to the conclusion that I’m a bird repellant - but a fine day nonetheless.

Usually I wait for a clear day to come out here so I can see the peaks, but it’s a pretty special place this way too.

Looking north to somewhere across the border.

I’m pretty sure this is Grant Butte, the small formation just east of Powell Butte.

I’m less certain here, but I think this is looking up the Columbia Gorge.

At first I was annoyed when a crow swooped in and chased off this kestrel just as I was focusing on it. It worked out OK though.

If this were in Arizona it would be a saguaro.

I enjoyed following this family down the hill, the girls skipping around and obviously delighted to be out with their dad. It’s a weekday, but the Portland School District is out on strike. Likely they’re delighted about that too.

Oh, one more thing about the day. On the way home I crossed the river onthe Hawthorne Bridge and drove into town up Main Street. The huge yew trees in Chapman Square are shedding. Had to stop.

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Janice Branham"Rachel's daily dozen or so" would be a major event for us but it's just another day in Rocky World. Amazing.
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