We've really become dependent on the elements. The wind and the river dictate everything we do. In five miles we'll hit the 200 mile mark and I think we've finally become children of nature. Like being on the sailboats where everything is personified, it's the same on the river.
We've been praying to the wind and river gods every night. I think we're becoming pagans living out here. The wind has a mind of it's own and so does the river. It's beginning to make sense why people would perceive them as different entities.
We pulled up to another campfire that night just as some native fishermen were pulling in. They were out checking their nets, since it's gill net season. They were super nice and let us share their campfire and one let us sip his 40oz/whiskey cocktail. He told us drunkenly,
"Look at the moon. Please! See it up there? See the river? Look at it on the river. That [reflection] goes right into your heart. You see that and your boat will go safe and strong."
We woke up in the morning to other fishermen who gave us some apples and smoked salmon before heading out to check nets.
The wind was still at our backs and we made it to the next dam ahead of schedule. It was the most beautiful portages so far.
And when we got back down to the river, you could see Mt. Hood in the distance just as the sun was setting. Two weeks in and were two thirds of the way to Portland. During those first couple slow days I thought we'd be out here forever. Now we're getting pretty close and I'm realizing that it unfortunately will have to end.
Below the dam was the little town of Rufus, OR where I spent my first night hitchhiking. We walked to the store for some snacks and I got a little nostalgic thinking how much I have done since I was there last. Ol' Rufus was good to me and Sparky. We should be in The Dalles tomorrow, and the sketchiest part of the river is yet to come. Hopefully the wind and river are good to us.
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