Chapter 15 ~ Page 210
We met Bernice as planned. And that is the only thing that worked out as intended. The Forest Service had a two fire truck escort waiting to lead the way to a park in the town of Cascade Locks. For Smoky the Bear, this was the equivalent of a twenty-one gun salute. I had been looking forward to a peaceful evening before attempting a crossing of The Bridge of the Gods. Yet, everyone was so enthusiastic about our arrival at the end of the Oregon Skyline Trail, we could not refuse.
As our impromptu parade passed through town, people came forward with offers of ice cream, soda pop, or beer. A Greyhound Bus pulled over to give us the right-of-way. We waved at each and every passenger as we rode by at window height. The park turned out to be an expanse of grass right under the toll plaza of the bridge. The manager of a nearby hamburger stand invited us to use their restrooms. The public works commissioner helped picket our horses on new mown grass. We had visitors, all bringing an offering of some sort, until well after mid-night.
As our impromptu parade passed through town, people came forward with offers of ice cream, soda pop, or beer. A Greyhound Bus pulled over to give us the right-of-way. We waved at each and every passenger as we rode by at window height. The park turned out to be an expanse of grass right under the toll plaza of the bridge. The manager of a nearby hamburger stand invited us to use their restrooms. The public works commissioner helped picket our horses on new mown grass. We had visitors, all bringing an offering of some sort, until well after mid-night.
What we wanted most of all was a good nights sleep. Finally, at 1:30 AM, Bernice and I were able to zipper the tent door, shutting out the street lights, but not the noise, of the freeway, a mere 100 yards away.
"Well we made it old gal," I said, reaching for a goodnight kiss.
"We're not finished yet, you know," she counseled, disappearing into her sleeping bag.
"I missed you today honey ... sweet thing ... my little filly ... my flower of the wilderness."
"Go to sleep Barry. There is a foal to be born yet, snow to fly, mountains to climb .. . and a bridge to be crossed in just a few hours."
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Text and Photographs © Barry Murray 1971-2007 Mac&Murray Multimedia