Closing in on my second week in Hood River, I’ve been watching for mountains. The first week, one morning when driving Ben to work, there across the Columbia was suddenly a mountain I had no idea was there before. Sure, I’ve been told there’s views of mountains, but that’s not the same as suddenly between the lower mountain sides of the gorge, there is suddenly a huge volcanic peak where there has only up until that point, be clouds. And not a small one, but an enormous one.
I sort of did a double take and went, oh my, that’s large. And then promptly didn’t see it again for another week. We had wind, snow, but even on sunny days, heavy clouds surrounding the gorge.
Having seen the pictures online of Hood River, I knew the mountain, Mount Hood, had to be around here somewhere… where I wasn’t sure, because the other directions were even cloudier than the gorge. Days went by, some with a glimpse of the other mountain (Mt. Adams? Or is that Mt. Baker? Never can keep them straight), but still no sign of the town’s namesake. Some days I wondered if it was a myth and the pictures online photoshopped.
Today started with heavy mists (Ben sings the new Misty Mountain song from the Hobbit every day when driving to work when they come into view) so I didn’t think today would be the day, but suddenly I came around the bend in front of my house, and there it was. A massive mountain, brilliant in the light of dawn. Rather shockingly beautiful.
Determined to capture the moment, I went for my camera when I got back from taking Ben to work, but already the insidious clouds of winter have started in. Now the mountain is gone again. But I’m evilly pleased to have at least finally found it, and have a good view of it within half a block of my house. The trees in the park get in the way as far as my actual view from my window goes.