"Pretty hard to believe that this was a forest," I told Andy as we climbed the hillside at Ginkgo Petrified Forest in Washington. Huge petrified stumps of elm, maple, spruce, ginkgo and walnut trees were encased in metal gratings below ground next to the trail. Otherwise, scrub sagebrush covered the hillside. A class of university-age students gathered around one specimen. A mustached man explained and pointed. "Probably a college geology class," I guessed.
"Maybe from one of the local schools," he said.
"Yup, because high school kids wouldn't come on a Saturday."
"They would for extra credit," he offered.
"Nope. Not that big a group. They even look interested."
"Oh," said Andy later, suddenly jolting the steering wheel right so quickly that I looked up from the pages of McCann's Let the Great World Spin; the momentary burst of adrenalin jerked me to attention. "Just look at that!" he added, tilting his head as he drove. We pulled into the rest stop. There ahead of us the gigantic peak of Mount Rainier, totally white with snow, stood high above the horizon. In front of us the Wild Horse Wind Facility provided a rest stop for travelers, but the windmills stood silent, every single one of them. "This is expensive electric," Andy explained. "The company only uses the wind power when they don't have enough cheaper hydro power."
Cruising through the Cascades, we marveled at the colors, but the leaves on many aspen trees were still green. "This is the last place we could have hit snow," said Andy, "and look at it." A brilliant sun lit up the south face of the peaks, with the deeper valleys in shadow as the road dipped. Everything was deep rich green. Here and there craggy rock peaks broke the surface. "Lots of fog, drizzle and rain here at times," said Andy. "Not a fun place to be in bad weather, but predictions for the next five days are for clear skies." Several times we stepped out of Little Red to snap pictures. The cool air felt crisp and fresh.
"Oh," said Andy later, suddenly jolting the steering wheel right so quickly that I looked up from the pages of McCann's Let the Great World Spin; the momentary burst of adrenalin jerked me to attention. "Just look at that!" he added, tilting his head as he drove. We pulled into the rest stop. There ahead of us the gigantic peak of Mount Rainier, totally white with snow, stood high above the horizon. In front of us the Wild Horse Wind Facility provided a rest stop for travelers, but the windmills stood silent, every single one of them. "This is expensive electric," Andy explained. "The company only uses the wind power when they don't have enough cheaper hydro power."
Cruising through the Cascades, we marveled at the colors, but the leaves on many aspen trees were still green. "This is the last place we could have hit snow," said Andy, "and look at it." A brilliant sun lit up the south face of the peaks, with the deeper valleys in shadow as the road dipped. Everything was deep rich green. Here and there craggy rock peaks broke the surface. "Lots of fog, drizzle and rain here at times," said Andy. "Not a fun place to be in bad weather, but predictions for the next five days are for clear skies." Several times we stepped out of Little Red to snap pictures. The cool air felt crisp and fresh.
Probably 200 cars lined up and battled for parking at Snoqualmie Falls, a spectacular scene of falling water in between the bobbing heads. "What did I say yesterday about being alone at places?" asked Andy. He quickly added, "But I'm not complaining. We couldn't expect much less near the big city, and I love the way they have preserved the huge trees... everywhere." Seattle, our destination for the day, was within sight. Gigantic old trees reached for the sky on every residential street, with Puget Sound reflecting the sunset just beyond.
No comments:
Post a Comment