Getting High at Council Crest

 This morning, I got high. That is to say, I took a hike from a retreat up to Council Crest Park here in Portland. 

Council Crest on a cloudy day like today. 
Photo credit: Share Oregon/Joleen

This all started a couple of weeks ago, when Joe and I discussed my taking a much-needed break from being home. My husband is awesome, and Kiddo is pretty much a dream of a teen, but after nearly a year at home all together, it was time. A few weeks ago we had an ice storm that kept us in for nearly a week. On top of that, there have been abrupt stressors combined with monotony and sameness. Suffice it to say, not a great blend for serenity. So I was elated to know that I'd get a couple days off from being needed or necessary. 

That's not to say I'm not still needed or necessary, because I did make sure Joe and J had enough foodstuffs available for a very pleasant time being bachelors. In the midst of prepping things for them and not leaving a mess for Joe, I forgot to pack my eggs for breakfast, but I'll get to that later. 

The drive up to the Air BNB I'm staying at was complicated. You know how rich people keep the riff-raff from roaming through their neighborhoods? They hide the street signs. Or just don't label the streets at all. What Mapquest said would take twenty minutes ended up taking nearly forty as we looped back around, trying to find unmarked roads and eventually cobbling together some semblance of direction before pulling over and asking a very friendly man who was walking his dog for some help. Neither Joe or I have GPS capability on our phones (hell, I can't even post photos from mine any longer), but this guy had all the bells and whistles, apparently, and pointed us in the right direction. 

All that to say, Eff you, Mapquest, and once again, I have the kindness of strangers to thank. 

We finally pulled up to the front of the house and the guys helped to load me in. Gave them both a kiss goodbye and began to unpack the cooler, with a strange feeling I'd forgotten something. No worries; it was time for a gin and tonic, some episodes of The Office, and chilling out in general. It was then that my little egg-piphany occurred, so I began to mentally re-ration my food. I have been rightly accused of overpacking, and this worked to my advantage. Dinner was sauteed mushrooms and shrimp mixed with a goat's milk macaroni and cheese; it was delicious and I have a portion left for a second meal.

Sleeping without cats or another body in bed is really a treat; I went to bed around ten and woke up rested for the first time in a few days. Tea was made, breakfast improvised: 2/3 of a chicken thigh sliced on a piece of toast with mayo and oregano; some dolmas and kalamata olives. Yes, I do eat weird food for breakfast, especially in a pinch. 

Then it was time to take a hike, literally. The sunny patch we often get between 9-10ish here was tentative and I knew it wasn't going to last through the day, so earlier was better. Ascending the road in front of the house was likely the most arduous part of the trip as the incline was very steep. Descending on the return would have me going slow so as to keep my center of gravity stable and not fall on my face. Not quite San Francisco steep, but close. The walk along the roads was filled with birdsong but not much else, but birds and trees are my thing and here I was in the heart of it. While the shoulders were narrow, it was quiet enough to hear cars coming from some distance and make adjustments. 

The road that wound up the hills was a pleasure. The architeture of the houses was varied and amazing. In some cases, it was preposterous; a huge home perched nearly over the road with huge, thick pylons, massive iron beams, some of it buttressed diagonally, defying all sense of rational safety. Their gardening game is very strong, with helleborres of all shades in bloom on the steepest of hills, their serrated leaves clipped back to let the flowers show and make room for new growth. I wondered if someone had rappelled down the hills on ropes to attend to the nodding pretty umbel flowers. Last week, on a hard day, I'd walked to the nursery and picked up yet another helleborre for my own garden. Here's a photo of my newest beauty.

photo credit: unknown, internet

But back to the hills... There is a sense of excitement in discovering new neighborhoods and places without any sense of direction or a map. The "trail" I thought I'd connected to wasn't the one I'd intended, but heck, it was paved, a street route, and likely a better choice for me. There is a true enjoyment in seeing new things, new perspectives. The smell of fresh wood, damp forest, tall trees, the tchet tchet chatter of dark-eyed juncos and calls from other birds was a delight as I kept going up and up, finally arriving near the entrance of Council Crest Park, arguably the highest point in the Portland area at 1,073 feet above sea level. 

I wanted to catch views from as many vantage points as possible, so I took my time going around the loop. Happy dogs loped along, chasing after balls or each other, their humans smiling or talking to each other. The old water tower at the top was ringed with scraggly old, barren trees, reminscent of an impressionist painting, with grays, whites, and yellow with bits of brown. Perhaps it had happened post-ice storm, but many of the long and narrow fallen branches had been gathered up into tipi shapes, one leaning onto a tree and another a bit away, with an better opening in it. A couple was next to the second one, the woman with her hand raised in a 'halt' position and the fellow with his phone out-- they were taking a photo of their black dog inside the tipi, which was just about the cutest thing I will see today.

 Further on, I found a memorial bench to 'Nicole', which was adorned with sunflowers and lilies; someone had made a heart out of the fallen twigs and huge bunches of flowers with notes had been placed there very recently. The plaque next to the bench was a quote from the woman they were remembering, who marveled at the interconnectedness of us all and the power of each individual to make a difference. It gave me pause to see it so plainly-- the love those who survived her had shown in decorating her bench and the love she must have had for the world. Admittedly, the glasses got a bit misty. 

The park was starting to pick up visitors, and the weather and sun were mercurial, literally-- there were moments of being bundled up in my fleece and jacket, and others when just a tee shirt was all that was necessary. There's a line in a children's book which I cannot remember, but it read "The sun played hide and seek behind the clouds" and this morning epitomized that. After some time staring off into the vistas surrounding Portland, it was time to head back. I did get momentarily lost for about 10 minutes or so, turning one block too soon, but I wasn't worried, just figured I'd get back eventually and looped back around to the correct street. 

Now, it's nearly noon. I've some reading I want to do, lunch to make, and another cup of tea will be my companion this afternoon. A hot shower awaits. The quiet so far has been a balm, the trees outside my window visited by midnight-blue stellar's jays, which I rarely see outside parks, and those reddish pine grosbeaks, which we do have down at home. (I say 'down' as I'm up here at 900 feet above sea level and home is roughly 200 ft, maybe.) I don't hear any leaf blowers, cars racing through, delivery trucks or people walking by yapping on their phones. Except the clicking of my keyboard, there is no sound at all, just a stillness my heart has craved for so long. Council Crest used to be an amusement park, and so I leave you with a depiction of that, wondering what this neighborhood would be like if the trolley rails, rides and roller coasters were still here.