Columbia is GORGES

Because I did not want to overwhelm everyone with how simultaneously urban and outdoorsy I can be, in my last post about my trip to Portland, I decided to wait and save a post about the Columbia Gorges for, well, today. I would also like to take a moment to reflect on the extremely punny title I drafted for this blog post… that I might have stolen from Ithaca, New York. And, I might have a sticker on my laptop that makes the title even less clever.

I'm either pitiful or witty-ful

I’m either pitiful or witty-ful

But, anyway. Onto the meat of this bloggage, which is the part where I wow you all with just how Pacific-Northwest I am these days. And in all seriousness, upon leaving Portland, I google-mapped all the way to the first yelp-reviewed highway stop for the Columbia Gorges, hiked a solid 3 miles up, realized that I don’t think the trail ever really ended, and I hiked back down. Call me Emile Hirsch from Into the Wild. And this is more or less, the chronology of photos from my extremely outdoorsy approximate hour and a half at the Columbia Gorges. IMG_5907 IMG_5914 IMG_5915

I would prefer that on the above two photos we focus more on the surrounding beauty, and less on my awkwardly crinkled shirt. Thanks.IMG_5925 IMG_5917 IMG_5929 IMG_5936 IMG_5921 IMG_5939 IMG_5945 IMG_5947 IMG_5955 IMG_5967 IMG_5977 IMG_5982 IMG_5924 IMG_5991Impressive, huh? I thought so too. What I didn’t capture photographically of this adventure was getting extraordinarily lost on the way back to Seattle and spending WAY more time in Mount Hood, Oregon than I could have ever dreamed. Or planned. And also, while in Mount Hood, I was totally about to text all of my friends telling them that some dumb lady was attempting to siphon gas out of my car, at a GAS STATION, while I was SITTING IN MY CAR, until I realized that Oregon pumps gas for you; and said dumb lady was, in fact, me, and not the gas station attendant wondering who the dip-shit not unlocking her gas tank was. So I leave you with that.

Love,

Phoebe

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