I spent the last few days visiting my good friend, Erin, in Portland, 0R, and now I am off on a brand new camping adtventure by myself for the next two weeks.
I’ve been so consumed with preparing and planning for this trip for the last few weeks that it is hard to just let go of it all. I arrived in the Columbia River Gorge yesterday afternoon, beyond exhausted from pushing too hard for too long. But the campground I am staying in an old CCC camp, with just 12 sites, and there is something sweet and reassuringly rustic about it that made me feel at home immediately. There is such a familiar look and smell to the old worn wood and beautiful stone work, laid in place like a puzzle by so many strong arms and backs so many years ago. These men, whose smiling faces peer back at me from a weathered park display, welcome me here, even though they, themselves are barely a memory.
The gorge is soft and rugged at the same time, with visible charring from the recent wildfires. There is an openness here that I hope will allow me to let go of all I am carrying, but I have no expectations. I have no needs beyond my most basic ones. I am simply here, living, breathing, being.