We walked all the way down the Esplanade till it ended in front of the offices of the Portland Opera (where I once had a job interview with the box office) and for a very short distance we had no path and had to follow a sidewalk. I found this a bit weird for a hike, but James explained that the city couldn’t get this one little stretch by the Willamette River. However, it didn’t take us long before we came to an archway above a paved trail littered with cyclists and a few hikers. On the archway were the words: “Springside Corridor."We continued the trek down this corridor, at first a narrow path, and we continued to look mostly to the right and enjoy the view of the Willamette River and the trees and plants along its bank. We passed the Ross Island Bridge, where the graffiti is plentiful and some of it is colorful and very artistic, so I took a picture. On our left was a chain link fence, and on the other side of it a set of train tracks, and everyone stopped when a calico cat was visible on the other side of the tracks. We were hoping she’d come toward us, but she didn’t; someone had left bowls of cat food and water for her.
Graffiti under the Ross Island Bridge
After the Ross Island Bridge, we came to a sort of lump of land (it wasn’t enough to call a hill) where some not-quite-natural looking rocks sat--large rocks, some of which had a sort of beehive shape with rusty mental bands around them. Some were very flat, good places to sit. There were also concrete walls extending out of the earth and pointing toward the Willamette River. Some of the group did some daredevil climbing here. I on the other hand chose to simply sit down on a rock and rest my feet.
At some point, the right side of the trail was flanked by many many trees. Throughout the walk, there was a lot of conversation, as we broke into twos and threes. I had a long conversation with Sunil, who grew up in India and left it when he was twenty-one, and I told him about my trips to India, Nepal, and Tibet, among other things. I also frequently got into conversation with Kris or James. We came to the Oak Amusement Park (I think that’s what it was called) where there were colorful rides, a disturbing roller coaster, and a carrousel. We had heard kids screaming before we could see any of the rides, and I made up a theory that it was an alien invasion and people were running away in sheer panic, but Kris pointed out that it sounded like joyful screams. If I were screaming on a roller coaster, my screams would not be joyful. I mentioned how when I was eight years old I went with a school group to an amusement park, and a teacher bribed me into riding a roller coaster and I was terrified and had a splitting headache.
Shortly after that, we came to a digital highway sign announcing the trail would be closed on September 5, and some of the group was concerned even though that was two days ago. We kept walking and arrived in Sellwood with no blockade or trench to avoid, and we turned left onto a sidewalk and proceeded up to the quaint downtown area. We passed the bright red caboose, Looking Glass Books, which I have yet to set foot inside because I found out about it while I was job hunting and came to the conclusion that it was too small a store to want another employee. Still, seeing it there I got to thinking it would be fun to just go inside and browse, even given what a tiny store it must be.
Mekong Vietnamese Restaurant in Sellwood
We walked a little further and, as it turned out, the Thai restaurant we had looked forward to was closed for Labor Day, but right across the street was the Vietnamese restaurant, Mekong, that Cathleen had told us about, and it was open. We went in and rearranged the restaurant, putting several small tables in a row. I ordered tofu rolls and peanut sauce and, like most of us, ordered a bottomless bowl of soup called Vegetarian Pho. Fee, fi, pho fum. It was a delicious meal, with great conversation, and I ended up getting a take-home container with a large portion of soup that I placed in my backpack. Backpacks are good for treks like this.
When we stepped outside, the next discussion was about who wants to return by bus and who wants to walk back the way we came. Cathleen and Lindsey decided on the bus (one other person had already left us in order to attend a potluck in Sellwood) and so we were down to only six people walking back to the trail. James of course made another reference to heading for Mount Doom, since our numbers were clearly shrinking. I already felt like a footsore tourist, but after eating such a huge lunch, I felt very full and like I should work off the food, so I definitely preferred to walk.
This time we noticed here and there cat food dishes, some of which were converted plastic jugs on which someone had written with a marker an explanation that these were for spayed and neutered feral cats. James had made a donation to the FCC (Feral Cat Coalition) during the Hawthorne Street Festival; the organization spays and neuters the cats and sets them free. It’s true they’re still out loose, but at least they’re not having kittens and increasing the feral cat population. We saw a couple more cats on this return walk and continued to walk and talk and joke around much like on the previous journey. However, we were walking slower than previously, which was good in my opinion since my walks are usually significantly slower.
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