The Narrative Image

A sliver of impotent moon puttered so peripherally on a path near the southern horizon that normally shy stars blazed – emboldened - as they spun and twirled in their 14 billion year old cosmic dance - not even tired yet. A waxing crescent moon didn’t present much of an impediment to seeing the Milky Way stretching across the apparent dome of the sky. I affixed my camera to the tripod and set it up for a long exposure only to find that I hadn’t brought my remote shutter release. To get an exposure longer than 30 seconds, I’d either have to hold the shutter with my finger (which kind of defeats the purpose) or get creative with band aids and cardboard. I managed to get this four minute exposure before the band-aids unstuck themselves. * * * Like anecdotal stories of old time buffalo herds covering the plains, Winnebagos so numerous they can’t be counted inundate the Columbia Gorge – fleeing from smoke filled, sweaty cities. It is almost as if it were the last day to camp… ...

Plans are the outlines of narratives cast into the future…subject to change. Early Saturday morning, my brother Fred and I had to resort to one less car than planned upon. Our daring river assault on the gates of hell… Hell’s Gate …morphed into a more pedestrian exploration of Horsethief Lake. Horsethief Butte At first, I didn’t even know I had a brother Fred until I found various historical documents. But that’s another story. Family Photo Front center: Haley Back Row, Left to Right: Roland, Fred, Scott, Dexter, Rose, Troy, Henry, Pa and Ma Luckily, Fred is a master brewer and also generous in nature. Here you can see Fred loading his kayak with home-made beer. Halfway up Horsethief Butte, it became evident that the name “Horsethief Lake” uses the term “lake” somewhat liberally. “Horsethief-little-bit-of-Columbia-River-trapped-by-a-railroad” with unfamiliar east side (at least to me) of Mt. Hood in background. In the olden days, before European immigrants swept across the continent...