MT. TABOR - A TIME-TRAVEL HIKE

My apartment sits at the base of an extinct volcano…at least I hope so. With luck, the tectonic plate that Oregon rides upon has migrated far enough to carry Portland past the molten magma furnace that fueled Mt. Tabor in the distant past. If you weren’t looking for it, you might not recognize that a small amphitheatre and basketball court are built in the throat of a cinder cone.

The following images are arranged in geographical order. The images begin at the public stairwell at the north entrance to Mt. Tabor Park. The route will follow the stairs up to the top of Mt. Tabor, then over the top towards the south. From there, the path will meander down and to the west, stopping to visit each of Mt. Tabor’s reservoirs in order of altitude. While the route through space will be orderly and sequential, the path through time will be random and perhaps jarring.

Sunrise – View from public stairs – Oct. 1, 2006

Sunset – view from public stairs – June 5, 2007

Night Rain - Public Stairs, North Entrance to Mt. Tabor – Dec. 1, 2007

Mt. Hood - From the top of Mt. Tabor - Dec. 3, 2006

Foggy Night - Top of Mt. Tabor - Nov. 8, 2007

Night Meditation - Top of Mt. Tabor - Nov. 8, 2007

Winter Bench - Top of Mt. Tabor - Jan. 6, 2004

Downtown Portland - From the top of Mt. Tabor - Jan. 16, 2007

Reservoir 1 - Jan. 16, 2007

Reservoir 1 Control Room - April 8, 2006

Big Pipes - Reservoir 1 - April 8, 2006

Fern & Ivy - Reservoir 1 - Jan. 6, 2007

New Shrine Elements – Reservoir 1 – Dec. 15, 2007(See also Reservoir of Memories http://thenarrativeimage.blogspot.com/2007/01/say-chimpanzee-knuckle-walks-into.html)

Night Reservoir – Reservoir 5 – July 25, 2006

Ironwork Shadow – Reservoir 5 – Sept. 27, 2003

Red Berries for Carolyn – Between Reservoir 5 and 6 – Dec. 15, 2007

Split Reservoir – Reservoir 6 – April 8, 2006

Split Reservoir at Night – Reservoir 6 - July 25, 2006

Waterline – Reservoir 6 – Sept. 27, 2003

Moss Ring – Reservoir 6 – Dec. 15, 2007

Evidently Not a Boat Ramp – Reservoir 6 – Dec. 15, 2007

Particulate Sunset – from westward slope of Mt. Tabor – June 5, 2007

WHO HAS SEEN THE WIND?

SUNSET BEACH - NOV. 22, 2007

SUNSET BEACH - NOV. 22, 2007

SEASIDE BEACH - NOV. 24, 2007

ANONYMOUS DOG - SEASIDE BEACH - NOV. 22, 2007

GULL AMIDST ROCKS - INDIAN BEACH - NOV. 26, 2005

VIEW FROM ECOLA STATE PARK - NOV. 25, 2005

GULL AMIDST PICNIC - SEASIDE, OR - NOV. 23, 2007

OSPREY - SMITH & BYBEE LAKES, PORTLAND, OR - JUNE 2, 2007

INCOMING WAVE - CRESCENT BEACH - NOV. 23, 2007

CROW - CANNON BEACH - NOV. 24, 2007

INDIAN BEACH - NOV. 26, 2005

REMAINS #1 (ALL THAT IS LEFT) - CANNON BEACH - NOV. 24, 2007

REMAINS #2 (ALL THAT IS LEFT) - CANNON BEACH - NOV. 24, 2007

REMAINS #3 (ALL THAT IS LEFT) - CANNON BEACH - NOV. 28, 2003

REMAINS #4 (ALL THAT IS LEFT) - CANNON BEACH - NOV. 28, 2003

REMAINS #5 (ALL THAT IS LEFT) - CANNON BEACH - NOV. 28, 2003

GHOST BIRD (based on REMAINS #5)

Seaside Thanksgiving

When I compare myself to Monkey-cam, the most striking difference I notice is that I seldom leave the house without pants. But the second most striking difference is a relative absence of bodily monkey-fur.

One line of thought suggests that in evolutionary terms, when we moved from sheltered forests to exposed African savannahs, we may have lost our fur as an adaptation to aid in heat regulation

But another line of thought entertains the notion that we very nearly returned to the sea like our mammal brethren – whales and dolphins – during some kind of aquatic ape stage. This would explain also why we cry salty tears and have a mostly dormant diving reflex – and also why I resemble Shamu when I try on wetsuits.

Maybe it also explains why the ocean is such a big vacation destination. Maybe in a way, going to the ocean is like going home.

Perhaps ancestral memories stir in the corridors of our subconscious and whisper of fantastic seafood smorgasbords...

... a magical place where we chase after animals that - it turns out - don’t have legs.

Did people ever really believe that the world was flat?

I wonder because when you see the sun sink below the horizon in the west, you have to wonder how it gets back to the east by morning. And what would the edge of the world look like? What would keep the water from running off? And wouldn’t people have noticed that the moon wasn’t flat, that it had dimension to it, and shading, like a round rock?

I wish I hadn’t been told that the world was round because I think I would have received a great deal of satisfaction if I could have pondered it for a while and figured it out myself.

Ghost birds under a full moon

Some twelve hours later… moonset.

With the return of light, the ghost-shift makes way for tangible birds

… mostly

…and evening’s nightmare trees are frozen in place - harmless

In a continuing campaign to conquer the earth, the ocean launches phalanx after phalanx in the first assault of a daily two-pronged strategy.

Aquatic monkeys find opportunities to play…

…and evolve

Crabs?

…not so much.

I saw this flower on Cannon beach, right about where the big haystack stands. Later, I found more of them at Hug Point, evidently part of the same bunch. Finally I found a bold message lying in the sand. It was spelled out in round pebbles - a command that said, ‘MARRY ME’.

Maybe it should have been a question?

A creek/river cuts its way to the ocean.

Looking southward across the expanse of Seaside Beach. In the background, Tillamook Head juts into the ocean.

There’s a kind of a river that cuts north through Seaside and then heads west toward the ocean just before it gets to Gearhart. I followed it to the edge of the ocean and watched it argue with the incoming tide for a time.

All the while, in the back of my mind, I kept picturing this ubiquitous warning sign.

In case of earthquake, I realized this would pretty much be the last thing I ever saw.

The full moon vies for attention at the Seaside community late Thanksgiving/Early Christmas parade.

And the ghost birds return, performing an exuberant crab dance well into the night.