July 18, 2017
The Columbia River Gorge has always been a portal to me. An avenue that signaled the beginning and end of summer. When I was a child, my mother would pack my younger brother and I into the back of her navy blue Honda Accord at the end of every school year and drive east on Interstate-84. We’d stare out the windows as the miles turned the towering green walls of the western Gorge into the brown, mounded hills of Eastern Oregon. I daydreamed of climbing...
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