Light in a Box

Even as a kid I was a light traveler. I quickly realized a backpack full of activities was frivolous luggage. Air travel kept me fixated on the view from above, and I would get car sick if I concentrated on anything but the road. My luggage became reduced to a small pile of clothes and eventually a camera bag. So, when I threw in an extra days worth of clothes and second pair of shoes for Oregon, something was up. On Friday morning, Sarah and I cruised through the Columbia River Gorge for the second time in two days. The sky is gloomy with clouds promising another day of slow rain. The sun has been up for a couple hours but hasn't made headway penetrating the sheet of gray above us: a typical dreary, brisk morning not uncommon to the spring weather we grew up with in Wisconsin. We can feel the moisture in the air as we saddle up for the hike. It has been a while since I've felt the cold stick of humidity. I close my eyes and picture a silent lake, stirred by the crash of a fi

Every state has a famous tourist attraction, a one stop must see location. These places are usually overcrowded with tourists trying to check off the grandest sight in all the land. Most of these sites have adapted to the influx of visitors and as a result, have become commercialized. Like a mini version of Disney, they come complete with gift shops, snack shacks, and don't forget to buy your commemorative photo taken by the lady that looks clinically insane from forcing smiles all day. For Oregon, this is Multnomah Falls. In Multnomah's defense you can literally hop, skip and jump from your car to the base. Driving down interstate 84 you can catch a glimpse as you bend around the overflow parking lot that divides the east and west lanes. Had Multnomah been buried three miles in a forest its natural allure might remain preserved. For a waterfall of this magnitude, either a road or a shuttle system would inevitably have been implemented to keep it accessible. Being so convenie