Journalist By Nature: Head For The Hills

Lookout goat

Gathering in the cool shade of ancient towering cedar trees we briefly reminisced about a past visit to the area. Leach Botanical Garden , a spectacular plant collection worth seeing later in the seasons, today lies in quiet winter repose, plants awaiting the warm awakening beams of spring sunlight. We skip the garden tour and head immediately for the steep hills of Mt. Scott, realizing this would be a leg-building hike rather than an educational neighborhood tour as is our usual weekly winter agenda.

Careful car watch

Without shoulders on these particular neighborhood roads we are earnest to be attentive about cars roaring around the sightless curves as we march steadily higher toward the summit. Bits of beauty are scattered throughout various yards in the form of budding flowering cherry trees, tiny white and purple crocuses, pink Japanese quince, a clutch of sunny daffodils here and there. Lush green grass carpets many front yards, sparkling with diamond-like dew drops, growing rapidly as it awakens. Homeowners' reluctance to tackle their spring mowing chore merely elongates the window of first growth so that lawns begin to resemble shaggy-headed boys long overdue for a haircut.

As the morning developed the grey cloud ceiling hanging lightly overhead began to thin and shred apart to reveal a brilliant blue sky, an infrequent event in the Northwest springtime. After a final steep ascent we approached the hilltop cemeteries of Lincoln Memorial and Willamette National. Choice view property holds the remains of over 160,000 service men and women at Willamette since it opened in 1950 and a broad spectrum of loved ones at Lincoln Memorial from 1906 onward. Entering the lower gate of Willamette National we noted bouquets gracing many sites and realized it was the fourteenth anniversary of the Gulf War. The sounds of three gunshots of salute resounded over the acreage, a solemn reminder of the close of another military life. A formal interment ceremony is repeated as often as a former service member is buried here.

One view of Portland

Views of the city, framed by leafless tree branches, appear along the roads that crisscross the cemeteries. We can't help but investigate some of the grave markers, noting the unique words of affection and remembrance carved on them. At Lincoln Memorial extended family groupings with massive black polished granite monuments are clustered at the entry gate, plastic flowers adorning the borders of one site and a contemplation bench situated for visiting family. Long rows of grey dots, the site plaques, run to the tops of hills and down the backsides, arranged by date of death. This is but a small version of the extensive National cemetery at Arlington, Virginia where identical alabaster headstones note each grave. The quietly broad views from these lands help to balance sadness with hope, for the dead are at rest while the living look ahead to their futures.

Departing the carefully landscaped hilltop we carefully descended the steep grade of our route more slowly than our ascent. This provided time to examine the architectural mix of post-war to modern houses, and stops to chat with a few neighbors along the way to solicit their pleasures at living here. Most responded regarding the views.

With legs thoroughly tested over four miles of declivitous walking we googled for possible nearby lunch spots, settling for Chow Fun at a Chinese diner across from an auto scrapyard on S.E. Foster Road. Over steaming bowls of hot and sour soup we discussed plans for next week's walk. Soon we shall return to the forests to explore new as well as familiar trails, knowing we will never exhaust the adventures awaiting in the Pacific Northwest territory.