Over The Rainbow
Yesterday was a luxuriously warm, dry day in the country, until it wasn’t. To celebrate the first day of spring break, I drove through miles of emerald green winter wheat, and dusty dry-land wheat fields waiting for seed, and went to the stunning Palouse Falls, with these guys.
Eric and Jessica are intrepid climbers and hikers, and we all wanted to get to the bottom of it all. But it’s a really, really long way down.
See the teeny tiny colored dots in the bottom of the photo, like just a bit of scattered confetti? Those are hikers. Really brave and stalwart hikers, because there’s virtually no way to get down there, for a normal person.
People had also managed to get themselves here, passing all understanding and numerous bright red warning signs,
that cautioned that all evacuations of injured persons would be at the idiot’s own expense. I wanted to be there, on the edge of all that violently streaming water,
and even more I wanted to swim in the undoubtedly frigid waters at the base of the falls. The descending terrain, through, was not my style, and the ascent, should one survive the downhill climb, was sure to have been brutal.
This guy could have done it in a heartbeat, but even he was staying up where we were, on the sunny and dry plateau, not too close to the perilous edge.
It’s a treasure, this place. A castle built by time and floods, breath-taking even if you don’t brave the climb,
refreshment for the hot and dusty traveler. Because yes, on the day before the first day of spring, there we were in shirtsleeves, drinking rosé and picnicking on assorted fresh green foods, right on the edge of what the Missoula floods of 12,000 years ago had wrought. And it was very good.
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