Caloroga Shark Media
May 10, 2026

188. Columbia River Gorge - Chasing Waterfalls and Whispering Winds

188. Columbia River Gorge - Chasing Waterfalls and Whispering Winds

Travel Is Back episode 188. Johnny Mac heads to Columbia River Gorge. Chasing Waterfalls and Whispering Winds.

Some episodes use AI for research, writing assistance, and occasional voiceover when Johnny Mac is unavailable. His point of view, and his insistence on finding the best local taco remains entirely human.

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The sound of rushing water reaches you, first carried on

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a breeze that smells faintly of pine and wet stone.

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The Columbia River Gorge stretches out before you like a

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living postcard, its sheer walls rising from the river's edge,

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lush with green and crowned by mist. You can feel

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the power of this place almost immediately, as if the

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very air here hums. This is the kind of natural

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beauty that commands your attention, that pulls you into its

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rhythm and makes you forget whatever else you were carrying

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with you when you arrived. You don't just see the gorge,

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you feel it deep in your chest, like a song

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you've always known but can't remember learning. The Columbia River

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itself is massive, a snake of water that winds its

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way between Oregon and Washington, carving through time and stone.

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The river seems to shimmer under the soft morning light,

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its surface a textured expanse of ripples and currents. The

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light here feels different, somehow, softer, filtered through the low

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hanging clouds that seem to embrace the cliffs rather than

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obscure them. It's not just a view, It's an experience

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a moment where you feel like you're standing in the

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middle of something ancient and alive and kitha and foth.

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You're standing on the Oregon side of the Gorge, not

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far from Portland. The city feels worlds away. Though it's

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less than an hour's drive. The pace of life here

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is slower, more deliberate. People come to the Columbia River

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Gorge not to rush, but to pause, to breathe, to

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take in the grandeur of it all. This is a

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place for hikers, kayakers, photographers, and daydreamers. It's a place

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that invites you to wander, whether that means threading your

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way through its dense pine forest, scrambling up rocky trails

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to jaw dropping vistas, or simply pulling over at a

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roadside viewpoint to marvel at the endless stretch of cliffs

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and water. Your first stop has to be Moltnoma Falls.

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It's almost unavoidable, not just because it's iconic, but because

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it's one of the most accessible and visually striking spots

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in the gorge. You park your car and hear it

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before you see it, the roar of water tumbling six

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hundred and twenty feet from the cliffs above. As you

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walk closer, the falls come into view, Framed perfectly by

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the surrounding evergreens. It's impossible not to be mesmerized. The

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water seems to fall in slow motion, the white spray

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at its base rising like smoke. A stone bridge spans

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the lower part of the falls, and you make your

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way up the short trail to stand on it. From here,

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you feel the mist on your face, cool and refreshing

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as you look down at the pool below, and then

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up at the town cascade above. And the trail continues

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higher if you're up for it, a steep climb with

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switchbacks that test your legs but reward you with even

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more stunning views. Along the way, you catch glimpses of

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the river far below, its vastness punctuated by tiny specks

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that you realize are kayaks. The gorge stretches out in

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either direction, its cliffs layered in shades of green and gray.

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Birds circle overhead, their calls echoing faintly against the rock walls.

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You pause for a moment, not because you're out of breath,

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although you might be, but because you just need to

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take it all in. Back at the base of the falls,

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you grab a coffee from the visitor center and sip

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it slowly while sitting on a bench. Even with the

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crowds that inevitably gather here, there's a sense of calm.

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The sound of the water drowns out the chatter, turning

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the area into a kind of natural cathedral. You could

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stay here for hours, but the gorge has so much

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more to offer, and you don't want to waste a moment.

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Driving east along the historic Columbia River Highway, you feel

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like you've stepped back in time. The road itself is

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a marvel, winding through tunnels carved into the rock and

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past viewpoints that make you pull over again and again.

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One minute you're driving through a dense forest, the trees

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forming a canopy overhead, and the next year at the

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edge of a cliff looking out over the river in

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the far away hills of Washington. Each stop feels like

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its own little world, a place to explore, to photograph,

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to simply stand and be. You pull over at Vista House,

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a historic rest stop perched high on a cliff at

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Crown Point. The building itself is beautiful, an octagonal structure

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with ornate windows that let in the light and offer

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panoramic views of the gorge. Inside there are displays about

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the history of the area, but it's the view that

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holds your attention. From here, the Columbia River seems to

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stretch on forever. It's waters glinting in the sunlight. The

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cliffs on either side are massive. They're sheer size, making

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you feel small and the best possible way. This is

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the kind of place where you lose track of time,

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where minutes slip into hours without you noticing. Further down

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the road you come to Horsetail Falls. It's smaller than Moltnoma,

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but no less enchanting. True to its name, the water

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fans out like a horse's tail as it cascades down

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the rock face. The pool at the base is shallow

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and clear, and you can't resist dipping your fingers in.

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The water is shockingly cold, but it wakes you up

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and away no cup of cost if he ever could.

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A narrow trail leads behind the falls, and as you

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walk through the cool, damp space, you feel like you've

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stumbled into a hidden world. The sound of the water

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is deafening here, a constant roar that drowns out everything else.

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If you're feeling ambitious. The gorge is full of hiking

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trails that range from easy walks to challenging climbs. One

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of the most popular is the Eagle Creek trail, which

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takes you past a series of waterfalls, each one more

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stunning than the last. The trail follows the creek, which

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tumbles over rocks and down into deep pools. In some places,

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the path is carved into the cliff side with steel

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cables anchored into the rock for you to hold onto.

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It's not for the faint of heart, but the views

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are worth it. Punch Bowl Falls, in particular, is a highlight,

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a waterfall that spills into a circular pool surrounded by

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moss covered rocks. You stand there for a while, watching

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the water swirl, the sunlight filtering through the trees above.

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No trip to the Columbia River Gorge would be complete

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without stopping at one of the small towns that dot

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the area. Hood River on the Oregon side is a favorite.

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It's a charming place full of boutique shops, art galleries,

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and farmed a table restaurant. Once you wander through the streets,

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stopping to browse at a bookstore and then a shop

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selling locally made pottery lunches at a small cafe where

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the menu features ingredients sourced from nearby farms. You order

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a sandwich made with fresh baked bread, goat cheese, and

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roasted vegetables, and it's so good you consider ordering a

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second one for The road Hood River is also known

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as a hub for windsurfing and kiteboarding. The Gorge's unique

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geography creates ideal conditions for these sports, and the river

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is dotted with colorful sails and kites. You stand on

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the shore for a while, watching as the athletes skim

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across the water, their movements graceful and fluid. The wind

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picks up and you zip your jacket a little higher.

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The chill a reminder that nature is in charge here.

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As the day winds down, you find yourself at Rowena Crest,

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a viewpoint that offers one of the most iconic views

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of the gorge. The road below twists and turns like

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a ribbon, and the cliffs are bathed in the golden

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light of late afternoon. You sit on a rock and

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watch as the sun dips lower, the light shifting and

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changing until the cliffs are cast in shadow. The river

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reflects the sky its surface turning from blue to orange

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to deep purple. It's a moment of pure magic, one

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that feels almost too perfect to be real. Driving back

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toward Portland, you think about everything you've seen and done

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in just one day. The Columbia River Gorge isn't just

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a place. It's an experience, a reminder of the power

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and beauty of the natural world. It's a place that

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stays with you long after you've left, a place you'll

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find yourself dreaming about and planning to return to. I'm

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Johnny Mack, and travel is back. The road narrows as

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you continue your journey, the asphalt curling around bends and

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dipping into wooded hollows before opening up to vast, breathtaking views.

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You're heading into the eastern stretches of the gorge, now,

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where the lush forests of the western side begin to

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give way to the golden rolling hills of drier terrain.

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This transition feels like entering another world, one where the

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ever present green makes way for a palette of warm ochres, russets,

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and earthy browns. The shift in the landscape is gradual

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at first, like the slow fade between two colors on

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a canvas until it suddenly bursts forth and you find

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yourself in what seems like a completely different region. You

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pass through Mosier, a tiny hamlet with a population that

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feels no bigger than a single city block. It's the

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kind of place where locals wave at you as you

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drive by, where pickup trucks kick up small clouds of

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dust as they pull onto the road. If wind River

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is the bustling, adventurous older sibling of the gorgeous towns,

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then Mosier is its quiet, introspective counterpart. Its main street

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is dotted with a few cozy cafes and small wineries.

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You find yourself drawn to a little spot with a

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hand painted sign advertising homemade pies. The smell of butter

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and sugar greets you as you step inside, accompanied by

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the warmth of an old wood burning stove. You order

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a slice of marionberry pie, a true Oregon specialty, and

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savor the way the flaky crust melts in your mouth,

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the tart sweetness of the berries lingering on your tongue.

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Continuing east, the landscape opens up even more, the cliffs

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softening into rolling plateaus, and the Columbia widening, its waters

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now reflecting the amber hues of the high desert sky.

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You make a stop at Rowena Plateau, a basalt overlook

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that feels like it was carved by giants. This is

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another world, entirely, a place where the wind rushes through

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the grasses, bending them in waves that ripple like water.

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The trail here is an easy loop, but it gives

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you a sense of vastness, of standing on the edge

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of something infinite. In the spring, wildflowers carpet the plateau,

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their vibrant colors popping against the subdued tones of sagebrush

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and rock. Even in the cooler months, the landscape has

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a stark beauty, the kind that makes you feel connected

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to the earth in a way that's hard to describe.

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It's nearing evening now, and you decide to stop at

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one of the many wineries that dot the Eastern Gorge.

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The Columbia River Gorge. Ava is a rising star in

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the wine world, and its unique microclimates produce wines that

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are as varied as the landscapes you've been exploring. You

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pull into a small, family owned vineyard, the rows of

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grape vines neatly lined up like pages in a book.

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The tasting room is simple, almost rustic, with big windows

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that overlook the valley. A friendly host pours you a

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flight of wines, taking the time to explain the story

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behind each bottle. The Pino Noire is earthy and complex,

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the kind of wine that makes you close your eyes

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to focus on its layers. The White Wine, a crisp,

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floral reasling, is like a breath of fresh air. You

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can't resistying a bottle to take home a liquid memory

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of your time here. As you sip the last of

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your wine, you look out at the sky, now painted

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in strokes of pink and gold. The sun is dipping low,

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casting long shadows across the hills and bathing the gorge

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in a warm glow. The light catches on the river

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and making it shimmer like liquid fire. It feels like

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the perfect ending to a perfect day, a moment of

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stillness that encapsulates everything this place is about. But you're

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not quite ready to leave. There's one more stop you

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want to make. You drive a little further east to

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the DALs, a town that sits at the farthest edge

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of the gorge. It's a place steeped in history, Once

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a major trade hub for Native American tribes, and later

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a pivotal point along the Oregon Trail. The pass feels

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close here, like it's woven into the fabric of the town.

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You park your car and take a stroll along the

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river front, where old brick buildings stand as reminders of

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a bygone era. There's a small museum dedicated to the

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history of the gorge, and you wander through its exhibits,

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learning about the geology, the indigenous cultures, and the pioneers

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who once pass this way. It's a quiet, contemplative way

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to end your journey, a way to connect with the

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deeper story of this land. The air is cool as

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you step back outside, carrying with it the faint smell

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of the river and the promise of a crisp night.

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You take one last look at the gorge, its cliffs

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now silhouetted against the deepening sky, and feel a pang

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of reluctance to leave. This is the kind of place

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that doesn't just leave an impression. It leaves a mark.

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You know you'll be back someday, drawn once again to

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the pull of this landscape, this river, this gorge that

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feels like a world unto itself. I'm Johnny Mack and

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travel is back