541.300.0282

www.fashionationevent.com

Presented by Salon Visio for the benefit of The Next Door, Inc., Fashionation features the talents of our local community, showcasing clothing designers, hair stylists, make-up artists and clothing boutiques for an evening of entertainment, fashion, and fundraising.

The Next Door, Inc. is dedicated to helping children, families, and communities thrive in the Columbia Gorge.

541.387.3996

www.gorgedog.com

For longer than 18 years, Collyn Roberts dreamt of owning a pub and grill. Hounded by time and the inability to fulfill her dreams, Roberts—with a stroke of fortune and a matured vision—was finally able to realize her dream and make it a reality in June 2009. And so the proprietress—her dreams subtly gaining and adding richness like a fine wine—was able to create a pub and grill recognized by the residents of Goldendale, Washington, as a second home. The Barred Rock, the now named dream of Roberts, has yet to see a slow day since its opening.

Roberts’ background in the food industry came from her renowned sticky chicken, which she used to sell in a cart at local weekend farmers’ markets. “I knew it was time for me to open my own place when I looked up from my chicken cart and saw 50 people in line,” Roberts explained. Four years later, the sticky chicken recipe is another frequently sought after item on the menu.

The dinner menu also provides each patron with several difficult decisions. Steak, seafood and scrumptious dinner sides, such as Aunt Ann’s baked beans, round out the evening menu. Local resident Mike Goodson remarked that the pub and grill keeps drawing people back because it’s full of “good food, good people and a great atmosphere.”…

The highway itself functions as an allegory for the disparate faces of California; along its winding path you’ll find all the rugged, wild coastland available to soothe your indomitable free spirit, after which you’ll journey into the belly of one of the west coast’s fiercest symbols of extravagance and big business, Hearst Castle. Either way you like it, the Highway 1 road trip has something for every type of personality. We can all channel our inner-celebrity along one of America’s greatest extended drives.

If the idea of any road trip fantasy is farcical overstatement, then you’ll want to follow my chosen path and rent “America’s chosen car,” a Ford Mustang convertible. You can throw out that nagging feeling of frugality and just listen to the V6 engine drink up fuel like an August-dried lawn drinks up water. My particular road trip fantasy also involves another American cliché, the blond-haired, blue-eyed girl (my wife). However, this drive is immensely enjoyable whether you’re travelling with a partner, a pet or by yourself.

The highway stretches from the borders of Mexico to Canada while weaving in and out of beachfronts. One of the most remarkable stretches of road lays between Monterey and San Simeon in California. These two areas sandwich a precipitous wonderland known as Big Sur. The name that has stuck with this coastal area originated when mission residents of Carmel, California referred reverentially to the area as “El pais grande del sur,” or the “big country of the south.”  Although this natural splendor has not been designated as a national park, it certainly has inspired generations of poets to expound upon it…

Paul Lestock, who is leading what is surely the most warm and cozy stringed instrument class cum jam session, is about nothing if not groove. Five players are circled around him, amid wine barrels and the rough-hewn interior of Springhouse Cellar Winery, as he leads them through the simple yet elegant changes of Django Reinhardt’s “Djangology,” at a painfully slow speed.

He teaches music like he builds his handcrafted Arrow guitars—patiently, honestly, clearly, with a profound if not overt sense of greater good. He is teaching his motley charges how to be ensemble players. They learn when to play and when not to play, where and how the melody fits against harmony and most importantly, how to find that pesky groove.

The groove is the thing. He strums fat chords on his round-hole Arrow acoustic, a guitar he handcrafted in his Rowena Dell shop from fine woods and a deep sense of what a guitar should not only sound like, but what a guitar should be. He instructs the string bassist on how to set the beat with simple notes. A young boy who plays an Arrow tenor guitar (four strings tuned in fifths, instead of the usual six strings tuned in fourths) cops a simple but effective melody. The bespectacled mandolinist struggling through the chord changes suddenly gets it and bites off a tasty melodic solo…

 As you walk into Salon Visio in Hood River the urban groove hits you first. Sleek modern lines, high ceilings, lots of light, a wall of cascading water and ambient dance music set the tone that owner Jim Entwisle envisioned when he opened the hair salon four years ago. “I wanted to create a social place—a place for building relationships with our customers and giving them the best services possible,” he said. Specializing in cuts and coloring, Salon Visio was selected by Salon Today as one of the top 200 hair boutiques in the nation for 2010, and it was the only one selected in Oregon. “We are so excited for this national recognition,” Entwisle said. “It shows that you don’t have to give up any services here in the Gorge.” 

The range of products they carry by Aveda, Bumble and Bumble, and Oribe adds to that distinction. Aveda’s air, hair and skin care products, which use only botanically based oils and plant essences, fit well with many lifestyles here in the Columbia Gorge. While Aveda’s products enhance natural beauty, Bumble and Bumble likes to kick it up a notch with merchandise that matches their cutting techniques—using lots of texture and layering to get a rougher, edgier look.

“Bumble and Bumble is definitely more animated,” Entwisle said. “It’s for people who know exactly what kind of effect they want to achieve with their hair.” From natural to funky to pure glam, Visio’s newest line, named after and developed by the famous fashion runway stylist Oribe (pronounced or-bay), is a highly concentrated product that does not contain parabens, a cancer causing agent, and it is sulfite-free…

  The weather report the night before was bleak to say the least. Clouds rolling in overnight and a morning filled with rain. We didn’t care. It was the last weekend in February and neither of us had been on a decent hike since Mount Hood had torn me up in late July. The winter had taken its toll on both of us, though neither one of us knew the extent until we were halfway along the trail the next day.

We woke early and packed quietly while the coffee brewed in the corner of the kitchen. Rain jackets, extra liner layers to keep the moisture off our skin, hats and back-up hats, sunglasses (we were still hopeful), gloves, two granola bars and three liters of water. I made eggs and potatoes—a breakfast fit for a hike—while Ann packed odds and ends into her bag. The camera, a pocket tool and a small roll of Tums were coming with us.

“Have you looked outside yet?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“I’m afraid to.” She took two steps backwards without looking and pulled the blinds from the sliding glass doors on the back of our place. A triangle of sun spread across the carpet, and I had to shade my eyes. Neither of us spoke, we just smiled.

A breakfast and two rushed cups of coffee later we had the day-use fee tag on our dash and the car doors were being locked. My legs felt spry and fresh. I’d been running for a few months, both to get in shape and to chase away the winter doldrums, and I was pretty sure this was the start of a great hiking season. Dog Mountain Trailhead seemed the perfect spot to test the legs, the lungs, the back.

Across the Columbia, the Oregon side of the river was fogged in wispy, smoke-like clouds. Just about 200 feet above us hung the same formation, but the sun was beginning to burn through the morning cover just as we stepped onto the trail.

We knew we were a few weeks early for the spring wildflower bloom that calls hundreds of Northwesterners to Dog Mountain. This left the trail nearly empty. Our breaths were still visible as they pushed into the air. It only took a few moments—maybe two switchbacks—before we fell into the rhythm of the hike as if we’d never left it. I could hear the steady bounce of Ann’s compass/whistle. Our steps nearly disappeared, becoming instead the beat by which we paced ourselves. The forest was a mix of ethereal rays of sun pushing through the last plumes of morning clouds and the calming effect of damp ground and damp trees on a silent trail.

Just as quickly as the rhythm and mindset of the hike returned, it left. Not more than a mile into the trail—which climbs a few thousand feet in just over three miles—the wintery, lazy days of the past few months manifested themselves in the weight of our packs and the burning in our quads. We stopped for water and to catch a quick glimpse back at the Columbia Gorge. Not much was visible through the tops of the pines we now stood above, but the sun had burned away the fog and the clouds, and everything seemed to shimmer in the morning light.

“It’s beautiful,” Ann said. She reached for the camera only to switch to the phone after finding the batteries dead.

“It is. And I’m out of shape,” I answered. She laughed. Her breath pushed small clouds into the air.

“I know it. I thought we’d been working out.”

“Eh, we’ll be alright.

A few more switchbacks and I was beginning to doubt my own words. I’d shed the jacket and zipped-off the pant legs. My hat was stored in my pack and I could feel a small blister forming on my right heel. The sun was doing its work and I wanted to curse out the weatherman, or worse, but I didn’t have the breath to do it anyway. That’s when the thought occurred to me that we’d also be hiking back down. Down the steep, wet, and now warm, trail. What a start to what was to be a great eight or nine months of hiking—I was burning out at just under two miles.

I put my head down and tuned out everything but the sounds my heart and my breath were making in my head. I watched nothing but the trail in front of me. This feeling I knew well, this is shortly before the end, before my mind says “Why bother, this isn’t so fun?” and my body is only seconds behind with the same notion. But then it happens, we round a small crest heading west on a steep part of the winding trail and the sky opens up above us. The trees give way to a grassy slope that was hiding a sixty-degree spring day from us.

“What time is it? Let’s stop here for a second and eat,” I said quietly, my breath still rushed.

“No idea. Sounds good. Wow.”

“Yeah. Wow.” To the west the bend in the river is barely hidden by the last of the clouds. To the east the sun is pushing through the surface of the water and lending a near-tropical tint to the Columbia. The minty, teal, green jumps out at the eyes evermore with the dark forested mountains framing it on all sides. We eat a granola bar in silence. Ann snaps a few pictures on the phone, and I do the same a moment later. Things have slowed again. My mind and my body are closer to the same beat, though my legs know what they’ve endured. We sling our packs back onto our shoulders. As we turn to catch the trail a few feet away, I look back over my right shoulder to take in the site one last time. I see Ann doing the same. A chill runs down my spine, and we turn to climb back into the forest and onward toward the top.

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I awake some mornings thinking spring has already come. It’s the nature of the magazine business that keeps me constantly looking forward, and I have to remind myself to live in the moment. I often erase or delete the dates I just wrote when I realize I’m living a month or two ahead of myself. Here we are in February and we’re getting ready to print the Spring Issue. All the while I’m lining up the stories and photographs for the Summer Issue. From where I sit in the office, Mount Adams remains enveloped in winter clouds, the river is as still as can be and temps haven’t topped 50 in a few days, but my mind is on wildflowers, spring showers and the quickly building buzz of many residents returning home from their winter escapes while visitors show up for their summer adventures. While the sound of studded tires on cold, bare pavement still echoes around me, my thoughts already have me heading up Dog Mountain to take in this year’s new blanket of wild, colorful flora.

I look forward to a time that may never come, when my mind and my body are experiencing the same things. As soon as spring hits, I’ll be on to summer or fall, and before I know it, the eastern winds will be bringing freezing temps back to our communities. I can almost hear the motherly advice to “live for today,” as my mind pushes forward to days and months not yet unveiled.

This time of year a forward way of thinking doesn’t seem to hurt. It acts as a coping mechanism that pushes those wintery chills and cloudier skies away from my consciousness. It leaves me asking myself, “Why live in this moment when the next holds so much promise?” February is a month for love and a month to remember the contributions, struggles and successes of America’s black community. Somehow it’s also an in between month—a time when the snow and the dropping mercury of December and January begin to take on their role as memories rather than realities; while March, not yet here, starts to show signs of the relief and rebirth it holds within its lengthening days.

I tend to be struck each month by how quickly the last has passed. It seems that just hours ago I was writing of the ambition and hope 2010 will bring. I’m certain that by the time February 28^th roles around, I’ll be taken aback by the sudden birth of spring. So there it is, plain and simple, the ongoing battle of embracing today while still preparing for tomorrow. There is virtue to both, but the endurance necessary for winter makes it hard not to appreciate the arrival of spring. There’s a balance to the changing of seasons that I’ve come to appreciate greatly over the years, yet since I look ahead so often, there’s also an anticlimactic feeling once the new season is finally born. I remind myself time and time again that best way for me to live is to find the enjoyment and beauty of each season because they are, after all, inevitable.

I won’t look past this February. It will hold the first and only Valentine’s Day that I’ll spend with my fiancé. Before the next one, we will be husband and wife. It also marks a time for me to celebrate one of my favorite subjects, the literary and historic contributions of black Americans. I think this time around I’ll re-read Ellison’s Invisible Man in honor of the posthumous publication of its sequel. Still, through these magic moments, the pulsing will continue in the back of my mind, “it’s almost here, it’s almost spring, you’ve almost made it.”

In the coming weeks, the trails on which I hike or run will begin to fill with the rhythmic thumping of hundreds more feet. I’ll wave and smile, and I’ll be excited to see more traffic sharing in the adventure. But it’s only a matter of time before I long for a quieter path. In late February I’ll make a trip out to Dog Mountain or over to the Rowena Crest to get a glimpse of the early arriving wildflowers. But by the time everything is in full-bloom there will be others to compete with as we snap pictures and spread out picnic lunches. Perhaps that’s where the beauty of late winter and early spring—the beauty of February—really sits. It’s the solitude that’s so hard to find in spring, combined with the beauty that winter often clouds over. It may not seem like it now, but I keep telling myself that by the time March is here I’ll miss the quiet contemplation that winter allows. So maybe February isn’t so much of an in between month, but rather a month to prepare and a month to reflect. It’s a time when living in the now means taking a few moments each day to look back and a few to glance forward, because before long, tomorrow will be here and we’ll all be missing yesterday.

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Amid the snow and ice and endlessly threatening conditions of this late December, a new year rolled in. I love the idea of a new start or a fresh beginning as much as most, maybe even more than most. I find comfort and hope in the deeper meaning of New Year’s Day. There is a reason this holiday exists, and I believe it penetrates much further into the human spirit than we realize.

As a kid, I remember thinking about how cool it would be to stop time, or to go back and fix the mistakes of days past. As an adult I find that notion more suitable for prime-time television shows and dreaming children, but I do find the idea of a fresh start at the turn of a new year invigorating. It’s the adult version of that dream I’m sure so many kids have had and still have.

We know we can’t go back. We’re all too smart—and perhaps a bit too jaded—because of our experiences. But every year one of the grandest celebrations is New Year’s Eve—our chance to look forward, our chance to change.

We’re all bonded by a common community, but our lives and our experiences, especially from one year to the next, vary drastically. Some people will find themselves more excited to say goodbye to the last year than to embrace the coming one. When I’m at a New Year’s Eve party I find myself taken in by all the smiles and excitement. I hear people pass their resolutions around, inviting whatever criticism might come their way. I hear people exclaim their joy for the end of the year past. I personally find more optimism than negativity in the moment. My spirit is lifted by the idea that millions of people are looking forward to the New Year. No matter what hardship they may have faced they find themselves counting down with elation for the next opportunity. It’s this feeling, and being a part of moments like these, that helps me to find a deeper meaning for New Year’s Day. It’s not just a party the night before; it’s not just football and food all day. It’s a festival of new chance, or of sheer gratitude for the passing of the last year. It’s a celebration of true human optimism in the face of a life that is too often endured rather then embraced.

I’m not one for resolutions, and I won’t make one now. They just don’t work for me, but I’ve seen them do great things in people’s lives. There is something magic about the way someone who has struggled with an issue for years can gain the motivation and courage to overcome that challenge by looking to the New Year. I wonder what our community resolution would be for 2010? What would the Columbia Gorge accomplish or fix if the whole community were to make one large resolution. It’s a kind community, but I’m sure we could always be kinder. We live, work or play in one of the most beautiful places on earth, but isn’t there something more—maybe several things—we could do to make the area even more incredible?

This year, instead of a resolution, I think I’ll ask what I can do to resolve some of the things in my own community that could be better or need to be fixed. Almost anyone could gain from a tighter connection to their surrounding community and environment.

I can do things that would better just myself. I have 20 pounds to lose. I have several opportunities or goals that remain unattended to, but I don’t think that does enough on its own—not this year. This could be the year we all look back on decades from now and think, “We actually did that. We somehow accomplished what seemed to be impossible.” Find your challenge. Help your friends and family find theirs too. Have a memorable and ambitious 2010.

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The Hood River Valley is a patchwork of orchards, vineyards, farms and centuries-old agricultural lands. It stands to reason, that when there is such an abundance of fertile landscape, there will be farming, and where there are farmers, there is community.

Old-timers in the upper valley of Hood River County will tell you that community was the backbone of existence during the turn to the 20^th century. There was hunger and bitter cold winter in the midrange elevations of the looming volcanic Mount Hood. There were children to protect, feed, clothe and educate. There was illness, despair, tragedy and sorrow. There was hope, joy and a common bond amongst the families that made up the small community of Mount Hood.

Educating the children was always a priority. In 1884, a one-room log schoolhouse was built along the east fork of the Hood River. The school rested on a hillside above the river and was a popular site for young boys to cut trails and pretend to be pioneers. In the early 1900s, one of the boys slipped and fell, rolling down the bank and landing just inches from the swift cold waters of the river. Aside from losing his front teeth and getting pretty badly scratched up, he was fine. But it had been a very close call. So close that the town fathers decided the school would have to be moved to a safer place.

The site of the new school was a wooded knoll at the base of Bald Butte, known for its use as a campground by Native Americans as they traveled through the area. A young local builder, Louis Cole Baldwin, was hired to design and construct the new Mount Hood School. Completed in December 1914 and occupied in January 1915, the building would also serve as civil defense headquarters during WWII and on demand as a Red Cross emergency shelter.

The first promise every bride and groom should make to one another—after saying “yes” to the engagement—is to not go broke for the sake of a wedding. “Debt is no way to start a marriage. Do not have a wedding that you cannot afford—period,” Leith Gaines, owner of I Do Events in Hood River, counsels. “This is a celebration of love and it can come in any form that works for the bride and groom or families involved.”

There are scores of simple, tasteful and perfectly acceptable ways to create a beautiful wedding that the couple and their guests will remember forever.

Budgeting

Talk candidly about the other “m” word: money. Open the bank accounts, and have transparent conversations with parents and other sources of financial support. It’s important that you have a final number on paper—and a firm promise not to break it—before the planning starts.

Your budget needs to cover all costs associated with your wedding, so produce a thorough checklist that allows you to assign dollar amounts to each item.

Shaving Costs

Immediate savings come from shortening the guest list, which cuts stationery, catering, rental, favors, flowers and other significant expenses. Also consider a limited bridal party. Have just a maid of honor and a best man if that makes the numbers work.

Contemplate an off-season event. High season in the Columbia Gorge is July through September. Shoulder months are May and November. December through April deliver the most bang for your buck, especially for venue rentals and catering.

Delegate events and details to others or delete them altogether. Could friends organize the bachelor or bachelorette parties? Is there a professional photographer in your circle who would do the job for cost?

“The tiny details will eat up your budget,” Lucy Gorman, owner of Lucy’s Informal Flowers, warns. She is also a partner in Mari Bliss and Gorge Events, all in Hood River. “Think big picture and choose your key pieces. If it is the music, put more money there. If it’s flowers, the cake, the location, allocate funds there. Establish how much you are willing to pay for that most important piece and go from there.”

Rather than moving to warmer climes or becoming reclusive during the winter season, many Columbia Gorge residents simply hang up one set of gear and take down another. Skiing or snowboarding are as popular an activity as cycling and sailing. When the calendar pages are turned from the fruit bearing months, snow sport enthusiasts wax up the bases, bundle up the core and head to the big hill looming to the south.

The topography of the Columbia Gorge environment is diverse, and the terrain of each of the local winter resorts reflects that. Of all the peaks that make up the Cascade mountains, Mount Hood is one of the few with resort development. Mount Adams, although geographically closer to the Columbia Gorge, is primarily a wilderness area, with no mechanical developments.

Long awaited accolades, like Skiing Magazine naming Hood River a “Top 5 American Ski Town,” are changing the collective opinions about local resorts. No longer a 2^nd tier choice for snow-riders, the increasingly popular resorts on Mount Hood are in a progressive state of development. They offer the amenities one would expect from elite winter resorts elsewhere, like ski patrol, rentals, learning centers, day care, eateries and retail shops.

MT. HOOD MEADOWS

11 lifts (five high speed), six freestyle parks, 2,150 acres, 2,777 vertical feet

85 named runs : 15% Easiest, 50% Intermediate, 20% Advanced, 15% Expert

Often referred too as Oregon’s premiere winter resort, Mt. Hood Meadows (MHM) offers up an assortment of terrain, including wide open rolling groomed runs, steep alpine bowls and tree skiing. Sprinkled about the more than 2,000 acres are six freestyle terrain parks of varying difficulties. The lodge services at the resort compliment the diversity of the terrain and include a daycare, a top tier ski school, rentals, retail shops, several eateries and an on-mountain medical clinic staffed by Providence Medical professionals. The overall experience at Mt. Hood Meadows is polished, professional and progressive.

Every Thursday morning in a large hall at the Oregon Veterans’ Home in The Dalles there is a gathering of former World War II bomber pilots, decorated Korean War flight heroes and other distinguished resident veterans—as well as a few area supporters who come just to hear their stories.

Ranging in age from recently retired to quite elderly, these men—and a woman or two—call themselves “The High Flier’s Club.” The informal group comes together to allow American veterans to reminisce about their military service, share common experiences and enjoy the camaraderie of others who have a ready understanding of what they’ve gone through as pilots in military combat and in service for the country.

In doing so, a sense of heroic duty of days long past is kept alive, and their experiences are not forgotten. The gathering seems to help foster a sense of acceptance of life-risking experiences shared by these select members of society who have protected the country with keen eyes, nerves of steel and brave hearts.

These veteran pilots speak lightly of their intense experiences during active military combat, such as serving as a prisoner of war for several years, shooting down a dozen enemy planes on different continents during U.S. military engagements, or surviving a hasty jump from a burning plane. Their stories are vivid, colorful, frightening and true.

“Each pilot who has come to join our table has given us a synopsis of his or her military service,” John Sullivan said. He is a 91-year-old resident of the Oregon Veterans’ Home. “Then each time we would go around the table and each person would tell the newcomer of his or her own experience.

“As the years have gone on, we’ve noticed that some of the stories have become a little more colorful than when first told,” he joked. “But truly, the people at this table are real American heroes.”

        As I drove through Troutdale, the fog sat low over the highway obscuring all but the half-mile or so in front of me. It looked like snow for a moment—a sort of grainy, light snow just floating over the area. When I approached the bottom of the exit ramp on my way to the gas station a man carrying a sign came into view. He wore a stocking cap of black or navy-blue pulled down so that it almost covered his eyes. Underneath his hooded sweatshirt—he wore no coat—he had a zip-up collar that he’d pulled over most of his jaw. Around the bottom of the cardboard sign his hands barely poked out of the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He wore no gloves. His jeans were tattered, and just looking at him as he shivered in the 40-degree morning brought a chill to my body. I am not the hyper-sensitive type. I do what I can to help those that haven’t had the good fortune I have, but it’s not easy for anybody right now.

It’s a sight you see at exit ramps and street corners in larger towns from Boston to Portland: need. In the Columbia Gorge it sometimes escapes us as we go about our daily routine because so many of the people who need help have blended in. They aren’t necessarily homeless, and our street corners rarely host enough traffic for them to get the assistance they require. While I sat at that red light in Troutdale, I was reminded of the fact that thousands of children, adults and seniors—some out in plain view and some toiling away in silence—desperately need help to get through the winter. As I drove through the intersection I took a second to read his sign. I expected a biblical verse or creative plea. It was simple. It read: “I will do anything for work. I need food.”

This winter is supposed to be a drier and less-harsh one than last year’s, but it certainly hasn’t started that way. November brought an early ski season to the resorts and record-setting winds at the coast. Rain shrouded much of Oregon and Washington toward the end of the month. This December—no matter how mild the predictions—will bring more than cooler temperatures and cloudier days. It will usher in a season of need for many residents of the Columbia Gorge.

Fortunately, the season when many feel the most charitable coincides with the season in which people need the most help. Almost everyone is feeling the effects of a tight economy, and helping out the less fortunate is not an option when you can’t sufficiently support yourself or your family. It can be hard to remember that no matter how bad you have it, someone probably has it worse. But there’s always something that can be done. When there isn’t any money I can usually find an old coat or a sweater to pass-on. When there aren’t any extra goods, there is always time. Donating just an hour of a Saturday afternoon to serving food at a kitchen or collecting spare change for a good cause can bring days of comfort to those who share your community but not your good fortune.

The Columbia Gorge is blessed not just with breath-taking scenery, but also with the warmth and kindness of good people willing to do great things for their community. Many charitable organizations and non-profits have already begun their holiday drives, and many more will soon join in the giving. There’s an odd thing that happens in the winter: in a time when the weather turns our thoughts inward, we begin to look beyond ourselves. In the season in which we bundle-up, stow-away and close ourselves off to the elements, we also open our hearts and reach out a helping hand. A rising tide lifts all boats, and here in the communities that make up the Columbia Gorge we truly embrace that mantra.

At columbiagorge.com we have recently added a “donations” tab, which leads you to a long—but by no means complete—list of charitable companies and organizations striving to make this community the best it can be. There are hundreds of ways to share your time, money or ideas. In return, you’ll receive the gift of knowing that you made someone’s winter a little warmer—someone’s night a little brighter. This December will surely bring challenges to those in need, but there is no enemy that cannot be bested by the efforts of this community. The less fortunate do not always carry signs that clearly proclaim their needs, and it often seems that there isn’t much more we can give of ourselves in a time when so many are pushing their budgets to new limits, but we are a community far stronger than most. We can make things better. We are the Columbia Gorge.

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        There is an odd calm that falls over much of the Columbia Gorge in these early winter months. Later in the season we’ll all forget the hustle and bustle that summer brings, but for now the contrast in seasons is clear. The river has calmed, kites and sails have been stored for a few months, the fishing boats are seldom seen. There are probably two ways to take this change: we could pine for the busy and dry summer months, or we can enjoy the quiet streets, trails and parks. To some extent, I find great comfort in the change of seasons, and winter is no exception to that rule. We are lucky to have a little bit of everything both indoors and out. Why squander the next few months waiting for a summer that will surely sail by too fast.

Mount Hood has begun to pull the wintery white blanket over its brown craggy surface, though it can be hard to tell behind the early seasonal clouds. Those who ski and snowboard are like children a few weeks before the holidays, bouncing in their seats, making predictions for another successful season, collecting their friends together and blocking off weekend days to hit the slopes. Those who snowshoe or cross country ski will have to wait a bit longer for the freezing levels to fall, but they’re a more patient and contemplative breed anyway. Through much of November these people will hit the trails now long vacated by the summer crowds who flock from surrounding cities and states in warmer months.

Residents of the many communities that speckle both sides of the Columbia Gorge can finally get their favorite table at a local restaurant. They can spend a few more minutes haunting a nearby winery, talking with the sommelier and tasting the previous year’s bounty. Some will take advantage of the opportunity to stand a moment longer in front of a work of art they’ve been eyeing through a crowd the last couple months. There are fewer cars to clog the streets, and you won’t get bumped into while you walk with the one you love two-wide along the sidewalks. It seems that you can finally hear yourself think—a voice long muffled by bustling surroundings now sings out amid the quiet splendor.

While many of the sunny fall days October brings have been fogged over, there are still those moments—now seldom and farther between—when a drive along rt. 14 in Washington, or through the forests along the Historic Columbia River Highway in Oregon, can make for a perfect day. These times have to be savored now, knowing that there won’t be so many. To focus on how few there are, or to embrace the good ones, there is no dilemma for me. A hot cup of coffee in the cup holder, a camera in the glove box and a calming song on the stereo can make for as successful a Saturday as any this time of year. The yellow deciduous trees still explode forth from their dark green coniferous neighbors. The mountainsides are covered in colors and textures only visible for a few short weeks. Seeing Mount Adams or Mount Hood peek their white caps above this colorful foreground can take your breath away.

Still others—the romantics perhaps—will find the most pleasure under a blanket in front of the fire. There is often nothing more comforting and enjoyable than the simple pleasures derived from a good read and a warm drink on a tranquil winter afternoon. I am reminded of the way my coffee mug steams the window next to me as I devour a new novel. At those times the nearly frozen world beyond seems so far, though just a quarter inch of glass away.

There is no doubt that come February it will be time for winter to end, just as there is no doubt that it will drag on just a bit too long. Why look so far ahead? There is enough to enjoy now—enough that can’t be done any other time of the year—that I can’t see the point in wasting these days, these hours. The seasonal cycle we’re so lucky to have here in the Columbia Gorge is not a treadmill meant to be cranked up or slowed down—it can not be controlled. It is an ebb and flow as constant and timeless as the river that divides us. As each season comes it invites us to enjoy the opportunities it affords while relieving us from the wariness the last has left us with. Now is the winter of our contentment. Quiet streets, calm shores, a little time to hear yourself think. 

If you have a fundraising or charitable event, project or service, feel free to let us know. We are constantly considering effective, meaningful ways to help.

2004-2010

Red Cross

The Humane Society

Hood River County Historical Museum

Hood River Chamber of Commerce

The Dalles Chamber of Commerce

West Klickitat County Historical Society

Oregon Paleo Lands Institute

Troutdale Historical Society

West Columbia Gorge Chamber of Commerce

Mt. Adams Chamber of Commerce

Skamania County Chamber of Commerce

Columbia Gorge Interpretive Center

Friends of the Columbia Gorge

The Next Door Inc.

Home At Last Humane Society

The Dalles Mural Society

RiverHours

Collecting Coats

Bowl for Kids’ Sake

Columbia Gorge Earth Center

The Gorge Rebuild-it Center

Columbia Gorge Discovery Center and Museum

Columbia Gorge Wine Growers Association

Historic The Dalles Days

Rufus Independence Day Celebration

Troutdale Art Walk

PROD-Promoting Responsible Ownership of Dogs

Columbia River Inter-Tribal Fisheries Enforcement

Cycle Oregon

Columbia Gorge Community College

Columbia Land Trust

Gorge Bridal Show

Making Memories Breast Cancer Foundation

First Friday Downtown Hood River

Women for WineSense

Resource Revival

Parkdale Film Festival

Hood River Cottage Housing

The Rowena Wildlife Clinic

The Museum at Warm Springs

Maryhill Museum of Art

Gorge Grown Food Network

Mt. Hood Cycling Classic

Columbia Gorge Fiddlers

Gorge Artists Open Studios

The Dalles Historical Society

Confluence Project

Wonderworks Children’s Museum

The Depot Rail Museum

The Harlow House

Hood River Adopt-a-Dog

The Barn Museum

Adopt an Acre Program

Columbia Center for the Arts

Oregon Veterans’ Home

Hood River Crag Rats

Wind River Search and Rescue

Mazamas

Columbia Gorge Dance Academy

Jerri Walker Memorial Endowment Fund

Celilo Cancer Center

Norcor

Health Media Club

Northside Community Education

Mountain Medical Clinic

Bonneville Dam

Annual Gala Fashion Show

Hood River County Christmas Project

Columbia Gorge Ecology Institute

Children & Nature Network

No Child Left Inside Coalition

TriCounty Hazardous Waste & Recycling Program

My Dinner Party

Green Building Council

City of Troutdale

Gorge Games

Columbia Gorge School of Theatre

Habitat for Humanity

City of Stevenson

Wings Program

Columbia Gorge Center

Kiteboarding for Cancer

City of Trout Lake

City of White Salmon

WAAAM

Aliento de Vida

Fashionation Event

Hukari Animal Shelter

Gorge Grown Farmers Market

Big Brothers Big Sisters of the Columbia Gorge

Challenge Day

Northern County Parks and Recreation District

Gorge Teen Theater

Meals On Wheels

Wasco Co. Commission on Children & Families

Communication Across Barriers

City of Camas

Opportunity Connections

City of Goldendale

Skamania Performing Arts Foundation

Snowcap Community Charities

Skamania County Christmas Basket Fund

Kind Intentions Devoted Services

Festival of Trees

Project Elff

The Dalles Civic Auditorium

Hearts of Gold Caregivers

Willow Ponds

Saint Vincent de Paul

Mount Hood Towne Hall Association

Mid Columbia Community Choir

Salvation Army

Sacred Earth Foundation

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Donate canned food items and new toys. Contact Jeff McCaw for details at 386-4950.

If you would like to sponsor a low income family for a food and/or toy basket, call Cyndee Kurahara at 490-1396.

To further contribute to the Christmas Project, checks may be mailed to PO Box 872, Hood River, OR 97031. All donations are tax-deductible (501(c)(3) organization) and the money will be used to purchase canned foods from the Oregon Food Bank and/or local merchants.

If you want to help and become involved with the project, call Kym Zanmiller at 386-5153.

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      After a summer that seemed to sputter at the start and finish with a fury of sun and heat, the fall has arrived all at once. Pear and heirloom apple seasons are in full swing. Grapes are being plucked from the vine and bottled up for winter, and pumpkins are approaching their full size. The jet stream held cooler temperatures and wetter weather north of the Pacific Northwest for a few extra days, which kept the Columbia Gorge warm and sunny for almost all of September. Then in just a day it all seems to have turned.

I drive hundreds of miles on I-84 each week between Portland and Hood River—often even further east—but just when the driving begins to wear on me the seasons flip over, and I once again have to force myself to keep my eyes on the road. There was no gradual transition to autumn this year. It was as if a curtain was raised at the start of a show and the entire set had been changed. I could almost hear the gasps from the crowd. There were a few signs—the winds died, then switched direction as they roared back to life; the fog began to pick up as mornings cooled down—but for the most part this fall took full advantage of the element of surprise. Now that its beautiful oranges and reds have been revealed I am left with that familiar feeling of a sort of tranquil excitement, of a fresh new way to look at things, and of course, a gentle sadness at the passing of another summer.

Apple Cider and pumpkin pie. Dry leaves crackling under-foot. The first few inches of soft white snow falling thousands of feet up the mountainsides. I find myself presented with a choice when the fall bursts through. I can sit and reflect on the days of summer gone by, or I can embrace what lies ahead—a season for the senses. Warm sun on my face is replaced with a cool breeze carrying the scent of fallen leaves. Tourists and weekend warriors head back to their homes and batten down the hatches while locals venture out into the land they love. Is there anything more perfect than an empty hiking trail now that its scenery is painted with a fall brush? White wines sound less appealing than warm and robust reds, and hops season is fully upon us with local brewers pushing their newest blends. I choose to embrace the way this season makes me feel with its tastes and sounds. I will miss the steady warmth of summer, but that balance of sadness to see a season go and excitement for the next is just one more thing I love about the Columbia Gorge.

For weeks now I will carry my camera with me in an attempt to capture some small part of the wonder surrounding me. It never quite works. What stops me in my tracks as I walk, drive or hike around the area doesn’t seem to translate in a still image. I’ve grown comfortable with this sort of inevitable failure or short-fall. These moments captured in digital format now serve as a reminder of the emotions a bright yellow tree inspires as it jumps forward from the dark green background of pines. The pictures are like mementos left behind from people no longer with us. They carry an often eerie reminder or a subtle scent of what once was but will never be again. Not having them would give birth to a whirlwind of emotions—a deep seeded feeling of loss—but having them doesn’t begin to do justice to the real thing, to being there.

The soft scratch of pencil on paper is another constant companion of mine. It has its shortcomings too. I can record the way autumn sounds with comparisons and descriptions, or I can endlessly expound on the feelings it stirs up, but the fall season with its accompanying splendor is elusive. Still, it’s worth every effort to encapsulate just one fleeting moment of this splendid time of the year, and to be able to share that, or at the very least carry it with me for a while.

The only way I have found to truly embrace autumn is to absorb it in every way feasible. The taste of a crisp cold apple just off the tree is only available for a short time, as is the smell of toasting pumpkin seeds. The chance to hear brittle leaves crunching under your feet or rustling as they dance in the wind will soon pass. And the look—what more can be said about the visual feast that fall offers. Soon trees will be bare, snow will blanket much of the area and Mount Hood and Mount Adams will be glowing in their fresh white coats. This fall I will exhaust myself as my senses devour all they take in. Autumn serves as a reminder that winter isn’t far behind, and we all understand that next spring and summer will be upon us before we know it. I choose not to reflect on the season lost or the one bearing down on me, but instead to imbibe the current season, the season of the senses.

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by hoot ramsey

Lorena Lowell felt there was something amiss in many early childhood programs she had administered. She believed there was a need for greater diversity and an atmosphere where children and families could share in the joy of creating, celebrating, loving, living and learning. In September 2008 she took matters into her own hands and opened Bambinos International Learning Center in Hood River, a facility that takes a unique approach to early childhood learning experiences.

The Bambinos founder and director had worked for years as a partner in her family’s Mexico City advertising and graphic design agency. With masters’ degrees in business, advertising and marketing from the prestigious Monterrey Institute of Technology and Higher Education, she is no stranger to hard work and creativity.

Lowell gained insight for her business through state and national level positions with early childhood education programs. Her frustration with seeing excellent programs getting lost in the quagmire of documentation, justification and politics inspired her to create a system where children and families could be the focal points of learning.

“Our guiding principle is to help each child master the skills needed to succeed in school and in life. Logical, respectful, life-oriented curriculum is the foundation for our program,” Lowell said. “We want to see them learn as they play.”

Another of Lowell’s goals is to make it possible for children to enjoy the benefit of early exposure to a multilingual environment, as she enjoyed in her childhood. “Each classroom has a bilingual team of teachers, one of whom has a degree in early childhood education. To ensure that the children experience both languages with a natural accent, one teacher will have Spanish as first language and the other, English,” she added. Also introduced into the daily program are stories, songs and conversation in Italian and French.

“The learning experience at Bambinos includes the celebration of holidays from countries throughout the world. It provides not only exposure to cultural diversity, but also a deeper respect for the fact that theirs is not the only society in existence,” Lowell said. “These children are learning that there are children throughout the world who celebrate as they do and that theirs is the universal language. It is the language of love and respect.”…

by rosalie westenskow

Forget sitting on the couch during school holidays this fall. Instead, get ready to explore haunted tunnels, skate the night away and cruise through a wave pool.

The Northern Wasco County Parks and Recreation District, based in The Dalles, has ramped up its emphasis on recreation recently, creating a number of programs that cater to youth, including Excellent Adventures. The program lives up to its name, providing exhilarating excursions for pre-teens and teens on many school holidays and periodically throughout the summer.

This fall, kids in the Columbia Gorge can sign up for trips to five exciting places: North Clackamas Aquatic Park, Kahneeta Hot Springs, two different excursions to Gresham Skate World, and a Halloween visit to Pittock Mansion and the Shanghai Haunted Tunnels in Portland.

The Excellent Adventures program isn’t the only opportunity local parks and recreation agencies offer for kids. Each fall, the Northern Wasco district also hosts a dodge ball tournament to raise money for scholarships for low-income youth who want to participate in the Excellent Adventures program. The district also puts on a Punt, Pass, Kick competition in September where kids in different age divisions compete against each other in each skill area.

The Hood River Valley Parks and Recreation District offers some fun programs for youth, including kayak water polo every fall, which welcomes adults as well. The district’s skate park on Wasco and 20th Street in Hood River is a popular attraction for kids and teens…

by sean patrick hill

For a quick view of how the Columbia Gorge can be in summer, drop by Multnomah Falls on a weekend afternoon. It’s hard to believe a parking lot that big can be full nearly all day long. You’ll find few other places where so many people cram onto a single trail to see a real Oregon landmark.

As Labor Day passes and the days begin to noticeably cool, even the Columbia Gorge gets some respite. Of all the seasons to hike, autumn has always been a favorite of mine. The maples turn to gold, the humidity vanishes and trails suddenly seem less populated. Pick a weekday in October and head out early enough—you may not see a single person for quite a while.

Winter, on the other hand, can be tough on the hiking enthusiast. The mountains are closed under snowbanks, making the high country all but inaccessible. There are some places to go, like the coast, but the Pacific shore can be daunting in winter with its wind and rainstorms pounding every tree, cape and hiker with the bug to just get out for a while.

It’s in these off-months that the Columbia Gorge really shines. You may have to endure some wind to get to some choice trailheads, but they’ll be open more often than not. Once you’re heading into one of the many side gorges, you’ll escape that wind. As for the rain, well, a little precipitation never hurt anyone–at least anyone with a good raincoat. If you feel like climbing some mountains, and if the day’s a good one, there are opportunities to do some Columbia Gorge summits too.

Looking for a few excellent hikes? Try these off-season trails. They vary in terrain and degree of difficulty, but each is in good enough shape that it is easy to navigate in the fall or winter. Be aware that the different managing agencies do not maintain the trails in winter, so be ready for the occasional downed tree or mudslide. Also, as always, watch for poison oak; even in autumn it can still give you the itch…

by christopher van tilburg

Hot springs abound in the Pacific Northwest. A trifecta of soakers flow in the Columbia Gorge, and several more are within striking distance for an easy day or weekend getaway. A rejuvenating and relaxing dip can be as easy on the pocketbook as it can be on the muscles, especially if the economy is keeping you close to home.

Hot springs arise from deep underground. Bubbling water heated by geothermal forces effervesces through volcanic basalt and gurgles to the surface, usually next to rivers. The water is often so scorching–up to 186-degrees Fahrenheit–it must be diluted with cold river water to be tolerable for bathers. The hot water also extracts minerals like calcium, sulfates, silica, iron, potassium, magnesium, sodium and carbonate from the underground rocks. Some believe the minerals have healing and medicinal benefits. Two resorts in the Columbia Gorge have their own distinct style and flavor. One is a destination luxury resort, and the other is historic, old-world charm. Find an afternoon and choose one that suits you, your partner or your family.

Carson Mineral Hot Springs Resort

Carson Mineral Hot Springs Resort in Carson, Washington, is one of the oldest developed hot springs. It’s rural, economical and sprinkled with old world charm. Perched along the banks of the Wind River, the spring was discovered in 1876 by Isasore St. Martin during a hunting trip. He later established a Native American homestead on the site. The resort was established in 1892, and the St. Martin Hotel was erected between1897 and 1901. A bathhouse and tiny cabins that are still in use today were added in 1923. Visitors can relax in cast-iron, claw foot soaking tubs, many of which are originals from the Roaring Twenties. The full spa service includes a mineral bath, wrap and massage. The mineral water is laced with potassium, sodium, calcium, magnesium, sulfate, ammonia and phosphate.

Bonneville Hot Springs Resort and Spa

The newest of the lot, the Bonneville Hot Springs Resort and Spa in North Bonneville, Washington, is a full-service destination spa. It’s the whole shebang in tasteful, luxurious Pacific Northwest wood lodges. General manager Gary Sorrels pointed out that it’s one of the largest in the region. It’s unique compared to most large destination spas because Bonneville uses natural mineral-rich hot spring water. And it’s right in heart of the Columbia Gorge…

This month we released the Fall Issue of the magazine and it got me thinking along these lines. Our cover photograph was taken by Michael Peterson. He had to spend hours out at Stonehenge waiting for the right light, the preferred amount of cloud cover and the perfect angle. I am lucky enough to see the labor of so many talented Columbia Gorge photographers as they submit their best stuff for publication. I am even luckier to get to tell some of them that their effort has paid off, and that they’ll be featured in the magazine. Even after hundreds of photographs, I’m always anxious to click to the next shot and see what’s waiting for me.

Any visitor to the area gets to take in an impressive number of brilliant and inspiring artists. Many residents overlook the galleries, jewelers, museums and studios until one day they are walking around after lunch and something grabs their eyes and sends their minds spinning. When we’re surrounded by so much natural splendor and so many opportunities to interact with this virtual wonderland we call home, it gets harder and harder to slow down and see the awe inspiring works our local artists are putting forth every day.

It’s easy to look past those that toil in studios, in front of a blinking cursor on a white screen or behind the crowds of people clicking shot after shot and hoping to get one good one. They don’t do it for the recognition, though as Rip Caswell recently pointed out to me while I interviewed him for the Fall Issue, the recognition doesn’t hurt. They do it because they love it. They do it because they’re blessed with an ability that not many have. They do it because they know they’re meant to, and they wouldn’t know what to do without it. You would struggle to find a painter or an illustrator that does their art for the money. Even those blessed with the greatest talent seem hard pressed to find financial reward for their work. They’re not complaining—they get something much greater from it.

We at Columbia Gorge Magazine were recently shaken by the fire that claimed photographer Blue Ackerman’s studio in White Salmon. It took not only her work and her place of work, but also the art of several other talented people. I have been lucky enough to work with Blue on a few issues, those staff members who have been here longer than me have been blessed enough to collaborate with her even more. It’s at these difficult times that my heart grows warm to see the sympathy and desire the community exhibits as they reach out to help a local artist.

I am so impressed by the ability of artists to endure. Just a week after the fire, Blue picked up the camera and did a shoot for the magazine that captured everything we needed to properly highlight a well-written story. I know our readers will enjoy the piece and the photographs for what they are on the surface, but we who know the events that preceded that photo shoot get something even more enriching out of it. We get inspired to endure.

Perhaps it’s my bias for the written word, but I think we seem to most often forget the great skill and patience it takes to capture the essence of the Columbia Gorge in writing. It’s just a bunch of black words on a white page, but somehow the best writers make it resonate with a reader. They make the simplest words or ideas sing. I try to read the region’s newspapers on a daily basis, as well as a few of the blogs produced by local writers, and I almost always find myself captivated by something I didn’t know I found interesting before. In our Fall Issue, Lori Russell made canning food a fascinating experience. It’s a gift of persuasion, a talent for pointing out the right things at the right time and an ability to capture someone’s attention with nothing more than 26 letters, ten fingers and the imagination that makes a great writer. I count myself  incredibly fortunate to get to read the rough drafts of our magazine’s featured writers, and then to see the profound transformation that takes place as they perfect each segment, each line, to create a great final product. I don’t know that I’d appreciate the finished work so much if I hadn’t seen the toil that goes into producing it. I have made it my personal challenge to find that in other works of art.

We are often lucky enough to meet and interact with those who do this great work, because they call the Columbia Gorge home. So many of the pieces that adorn the walls of galleries and museums in the area were inspired by the community or the natural beauty that surrounds us. I’m not sure which is a greater talent: the ability to capture the indefinable beauty that surrounds us, or the skill to make the seemingly mundane become interesting. I don’t really care to know the answer either. I’m content to relish in the fact that so much great art comes out of this community, and the fact that I get to see some small part of that often takes my breath away.