Road Trip - Exploring the Columbia Gorge Loop
Mt. Hood and the Columbia River

The vista before me has beckoned the likes of Lewis & Clark. Below, the brackish, blue-grey waters of the Columbia River continue to carve the channel between the basalt canyons of the Gorge ever deeper. A green conifer canopy rises from both sides before yielding to reddish-brown cliffs, vertical and tragic like a lover's leap. Chanticleer Point offers the first dramatic views of the Columbia River Gorge off the highway. The iconic Vista House is just to the east. With the keys to a 2008 Honda Gold Wing and two days to spare, we chart a course through Oregon's Columbia River Gorge and up Mt. Hood.

Sitting 733 feet on a steep outcropping, the octagon-shaped Vista House on Crown Point is a must-see. The stone architecture is intriguing, and inside is a small interpretive center with educational exhibits and displays about the building, the highway and local flora.

The Historic Columbia River Highway begins off I-84 East out of Portland, Oregon, just beyond Troutdale. The road winds through old growth forests with fern-lined trails and breath-taking waterfalls (there are 77 on the Oregon side alone). The air is fresh and smells of pine. I steady the cream-colored Gold Wing as my wife climbs aboard.

Leaving the Vista House, the road drops quickly. She squeezes tighter as I dip the Wing into a series of sharp 25 mph switchbacks. Sightseers in cars means that you'll never see more than second gear on the 22-mile stretch, but the scenery is better savored slowly. It attracts many bicyclists and hikers that share the road, and while parking on a busy weekend can be a challenge, you can usually find a spot to squeeze in. Unless you're trying to find parking around Multnomah Falls. Multnomah is postcard perfect. It spits out high overhead between tall pines and begins a spectacular 542-foot descent into a large pool before dropping another 69-feet under the stone arch of the Benson Bridge.

A historic lodge, constructed with every type of stone found in the Gorge, also draws in the crowds. Built in 1925, the lodge is now on the National Registry of Historic Places. As impressive as Multnomah Falls is, it attracts tourists by the busload that stream in from a separate parking area set aside for the Falls directly off of I-84 at Exit 31. The Gold Wing keeps rolling east past Multnomah toward one of Oregon's most popular hiking destinations.

The sign to the trailhead says Oneonta Gorge Trail. The path begins beside Horsetail Falls. Big-leaf maples and cottonwoods shoulder their way in between stands of pines. Licorice ferns and moss color the forest floor green. The paths are well-manicured. Within a quarter of a mile, we're already at Ponytail Falls. The mist is cool and welcome as the trail leads behind the cascading wall of water.

The 2.7-mile loop takes a couple of hours, including a picnic lunch creekside. Getting back to the Wing, we change back into our riding gear and finish the last few miles of the scenic strip. Leaving the Gorge always brings about a catharsis. The forest here is ageless, and when you're in it time slows to a crawl. But the end of the historic highway is ahead and spits me back onto I-84 at Exit 35, so I give the throttle a twist and get up to freeway speed.

I barely get it into fifth gear before reaching Bonneville Dam. It is an engineering marvel, the first in a series of eight dams along the Columbia and Snake rivers. The two powerhouses at Bonneville generate over one million kilowatts - enough to light up Portland like the Beijing opening ceremonies. The dam's massive locks make the river navigable to barge and ship traffic.

As we pull in, the spillway is open. A wall of turbulent white water rushes under tremendous gates, a palpable force, like a thousand waves crashing on shore. At the main exhibition hall we learn about the history of the dam through videos and displays. Taking the elevator down to the viewing windows for the fish ladder we watch as trout and Walleye flicker in and out of view. A chorus of 'Oohs' arises when a Pacific Lamprey floats by, its circular mouth trying to suck onto the window. For a long time we're content to sit and watch, hoping to get a glimpse of a giant Chinook Salmon or a prehistoric-looking sturgeon. All we see are big Rainbow Trout. Makes me wish I had my fishing pole.

We jump back on I-84 bearing toward Hood River. A headwind has picked up, but the heavily-faired Gold Wing easily holds its line. The Columbia cuts a wide swath through the Cascade Mountain range, with canyon walls 4000 feet high in spots. The Coho Wind can funnel through the Gorge with tempestuous force, so be aware. As we get closer to Hood River, my wife taps me on the shoulder to point out a pod of kitesurfers catching air on the choppy waters of the Columbia. They skim across the surface surprisingly fast, and one rider pops off a curl and shoots 20 feet into the air. The combination of cool Pacific winds to the west and warm desert air to the east team with the high walls of the Gorge to create world-class windboarding conditions.

It's Friday evening when we pull into the eclectic town. Handcrafted houses with tall porches abound giving the city an artsy appeal. It seems like the majority of the population is strolling down side streets, filling the parks, or headed to their favorite watering hole. Music seeps out of the open doors of several venues. We follow a local family's advice and grab some eats at the 3 Rivers Grill.

We're grubby from the road but it's almost acceptable to look haggard when people find out you ride a motorcycle. We sit outside on a second-story deck overlooking the confluence where the White Salmon, the Hood and the Columbia River converge. Hood River is known for the fertile farmland to its south, and the restaurant uses fresh local produce. We get out cheap, less than $60. Hotels fill up quick on weekends and finding a room proves challenging, so make sure to book a room in advance.

The next morning we've signed up for a trip on the Mount Hood Railroad. The Odell Excursion Train is a two-and-a-half hour ride over century-old rails. We sit in an open car behind the Pullman coaches and soak in the fresh air. A girl's voice talks about local history and points out areas of interest over the intercom. As we pass along pear orchards, limbs drooping with ripening fruit, we get the first peek at our day's destination, Oregon's highest peak, Mt. Hood. The train travels close to the base of the 11,245-foot giant before click-clacking its way back to the station.

The Mt. Hood Scenic Byway, also known as US Highway 30, is easy to find at the east end of town. Hood River quickly gives way to neatly plowed fields and fruit-filled orchards. Gravenstein apples on scrawny branches bob in the breeze while further down the road limbs are heavy with Comice pears. The silt loam soil and abundant water sources of the Hood River Valley make the land the most fertile real estate north of California's San Fernando Valley.

Before heading up the mountain, we follow Hood River County's Fruit Loop. The 35-mile run winds through rolling hills and past red barns through the tiny towns of Parkdale and Dee. Fruit stands line the entire route, a veritable cornucopia of fresh-picked produce. We get our fingers sticky sampling Ranier cherries and Hermiston watermelon.

The Fruit Loop takes us back into Hood River, where we gas up before heading up the mountain. It's mid summer and Mt. Hood is still capped with snow, but the rocky, grey face of the dormant volcano is treeless and imposing. Leaving the valley, Highway 30 begins to climb. The forest presses closer to the road. The East Fork of the Hood River rushes over rocks, lined with broken bits of trees from past floods. Big sweepers are spread out between long straights, enticing me to open it up, but every time I creep above the posted 55 mph limit we come upon an unlucky car that's been pulled over. The road is well-patrolled and the higher we climb the rougher and more pock-marked it gets from countless winter plowings.

The highway crests about 39 miles out of Hood River where a big, brown sign instructs me to take a right to Timberline Lodge. This last six-mile stretch is sweet as a vintage Merlot. You want to sip it slow, but after you get that first taste you chug the bottle like it's your first buzz on Boone's Farm. Start the 2000-foot climb and soon the curves will have you spellbound and there's no resisting the urge to push beyond the posted 35 mph signs.

As we rode up the hairpin laden road, hooligans buzzed down the hill, the temperamental whine of their aftermarket exhaust screaming with malicious intent. A pack of Ducati buzz by, a blur of stickers, scraped up fairings and dented exhausts. Timberline sits cradled 6000 feet up in the arms of Mt. Hood. The grand ski lodge is built in the Alpine tradition, steep pitched roofs and thick walls built to resist the 400 inches of annual snowfall. The building is constructed of mighty timbers and rock, highlighted by a 98-foot tall stone chimney. The rooms are rustic and romantic. Night darkens the mountain outside our window. Small figures zig-zag down the upper run like lightning bugs.

We ride down the mountain to the small town we saw at the turnoff to the lodge. Government Camp is a sleepy little enclave that's recently seen a boom. High-dollar resorts have sprouted up around what was once just a handful of small condos, hostels and ski shops. The main business strip is only three blocks long, but we locate a cool pizza joint and fill up on a large hand-tossed pie and a cold local microbrew.

The next morning we load up the Gold Wing and head down the mountain. I wish I could bottle the fresh air and bring some home. After a big lumberjack breakfast at the Huckleberry Inn, we follow Government Camp Loop to the Mt. Hood Adventure Park at Skibowl. We notice the lifts are running, even midsummer, so we check it out. Mountain bikers load up their bikes on the lift and come shredding down the slope. Trails dot the landscape like veins. And running down the middle of it all are the two half-mile long chutes of the Alpine slide. The slide is the closest that you can come to experiencing the rush of an Olympic sledder. You sit on a small plastic luge equipped with wheels and race down the steep hillside. As we ride the ski lift up, I talk trash about how I'm going to smoke my wife down the hill. She just shakes her head.

We're a long way up. We're given the 'Go' signal and give our sleds a couple of pushes. Before we hit the first corner, she's already a few lengths ahead of me. I keep the joystick pinned forward and watch as she banks sideways into the next turn, laughing as she disappears. She kicks my butt down the hill. At the bottom I discover she was riding a beat-up, off-color sled they call the 'White Buffalo' that has a reputation as the being the fastest. I never had a chance.

The Adventure Park has more attractions at Skibowl East, including a 500-foot zip line and a 100-foot bungee tower. I'd love to rent a mountain bike and explore some trails, but point the Gold Wing home instead.

Highway 35 turns into US-26 without any announcement, so don't be alarmed. The next 27 miles is a safety corridor and traffic fines are double, so we take it easy. As we get close to Sandy, wintergreen fills the air as we pass Christmas tree farms. A chainsaw artist works out in front of his outdoor studio, chips and dust flying.

The forest yields to industrial sprawl as US-26 deposits us back in Troutdale. We see the sign to the turnoff for the Columbia River Gorge. My heart tells me to turn, but my head says no. Mt. Hood fades in my mirrors but won't fade from our memory anytime soon.

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