Grandeur of the Gorge

by Paul Schmid

In all my painting trips this year, I have not found an area to rival the Columbia River Gorge for demonstrating Washington state’s wild diversity. In about an hour’s drive through the gorge my brush moved across my palette from the blue green of fir-shrouded slopes to rich ochre mesas toasting in the sun.

The gorge is a spectacular river canyon cutting the only sea-level route through the Cascade Mountain Range and serving as part of the border between Washington and Oregon. Only 80 miles long and up to 4,000 feet deep in places, it makes a sudden and astounding transition from Western to Eastern Washington.

The abrupt diversity of its shores joins with the diversity of roles played by the Columbia River itself. You’ll find opportunities for outdoor recreation side-by-side with hydroelectric dams, while ospreys and railroad tracks coexist. And you’ll find echoes of the ancient peoples who once lived in the gorge through pictographs along with graffiti from a few of the areas current 72,000 inhabitants

The Columbia Gorge Interpretive Center Museum in Stevenson explores many of those roles. Visual displays highlight the area’s history, ecology and industry.

Worth a stop is the Maryhill Museum of Art, a world-class facility and unexpected gem perched on a cliff over the river. Included in its collection are beautiful watercolors by French sculptor Auguste Rodin.

After a satisfying day painting, I camped at Horsethief Lake State Park, once the site of a Native American village and camp for Lewis and Clark. It boasts a wonderful collection of pictographs.

I awoke after midnight and rolled out of my sleeping bag to take a short walk into the prairie to view the stars. They hovered in the night sky thick as snowflakes. Somewhere in the hills a pack of coyotes began their wild yelping and, not wanting to be left out, all the dogs cooped up in the campground’s neat row of motor homes barked their replies.

A late-night freight train chugged its cargo west with the river and I climbed back into my tent.

—Originally appeared in The Seattle Times