forgottenly yours

The Forgotten mountains sit peacefully next to an immense prairie in southeastern Washington. The range stretches from the interior of Idaho, across the north east corner of Oregon and up into Washington. It's a part of America that no one ever notices. There are many such areas of America that are like this, but this isn't about them, this is about the Forgottens. So named, because, well - they're forgotten. They are the inside of the egg shell - the part that no one ever cares to look at. If you ever drive to the area, you will probably be so focused on Portland or Seattle or Boise that you won't even take the time to look to your left or right to see what it is your driving past at 80 miles an hour.

Their peaks aren't legendary and their valleys aren't stacked up with million dollar homes. There is only one ski hill that is rarely open and it's more of a local's ski hill, not one that is going to host any major sporting event. They don't affect the weather pattern of any major city and they don't boast a historic deadly peak or famous Indian battle field. The only real brush with fame they have ever seen was when Lewis and Clark passed them on their way west. By the time L and C got to the forgottens, they had seen the Rockies and weren't too impressed with some minor little "bumps" on the landscape. They casually went around. In their journals, they didn't even mention the mountains, instead they wrote about the berries and the fish they caught in the stream.

I love the Forgottens. It was their healing powers that saved my life when my life wasn't worth saving. Those mountains were my test and those mountains gave me direction. To them, I owe everything. If the Oregon coast hadn't existed, I would have wanted my ashes to be spread in those lovely Forgottens.

The rivers that are born in the hidden valleys of the Forgottens are filled with some of the world's cleanest water. There is no major manufacturing nearby to sully the water factories on the slopes and thus the water is some of the best you can find anywhere. The trees there are also beyond exceptional. Great towering pines and deciduous trees of every make and model grace the landscape and their outstretched limbs act as air filters and air fresheners for the world downwind of them. These trees are so exceptional that I dare not tell you anything more about them lest you try to go and cut them down and keep them for yourself. It's rumored that even bears won't "mark" their territory on their bark lest they should damage the beauty.

Wild life is abundant and to each creature there is a story. If one was compelled to hike into the Forgottens, the first thing you must do is choose what type of tale you would want to have told to you. A walk up a ravine to the right could lead to a tale of wild Appaloosa stallions fighting each other over grazing rights and mares. Or, if the hiker was to choose a ravine to the left, they might see the tales of the rutting elk, the curious bears or the snagletoothed mountain lions - all of whom eat children (and hippies).

Each pathway is an endless stream of tales. What tale you will get depends on when you're there and with whom you travel. (I suggest taking a hippie for hungry bear protection)

The Forgottens tickle the sky with their modest peaks. From a distance the range appears to be series of hunched over men walking in a straight line. I believe that is why these mountains are overlooked - they're trying to avoid your gaze. They look like people trying to duck down in a large crowd to avoid detection. These are modest mountains and that modesty has made them the best mountain range of all time. Pristine, mysterious, crazy and very loving. These are the Forgottens.

Where the foothills of the Forgottens slam into the vastness of the grand prairie, Dayton was erected. It's a small town with a lot going for it that - like the mountains next door - give off no indication of it's true value. Dayton is just an easy town to pass through without a second glance. If you should stop, it would be for gas or to ask how to find your way somewhere. It's a common theme with the tourism in the area. I once suggested that our town motto be, "Dayton, It's in your way". The lady at the chamber of commerce didn't think it was funny either.

Dayton is the county seat of Columbia county, but in reality it's the only town in Columbia county so it wins the job by default. There are few minor "encampments" out on the prairie, but unless your lost, you'll never find them. Politically, the town is a sixty-forty split conservative to liberal. The conservatives primarily live outside of town and rarely come in for anything. The liberals live in town and spend most of their time "conserving" the downtown, the old houses, the library, etc. This is something that drives the conservatives that never come to town, mad. I'm not sure why.

The county is owned by two families which almost everyone in town is either related to or sleeping with. It's very incestuous and it works (I do not mean to suggest that there is real incest occurring, it's just odd). No matter where you are from or how long you stay, if you were not born in town, you are always going to be an "outsider" and therefore looked upon with suspicious eyes.

The city is filled with daily scandal, it has a social event every month, hosts one of the most successful community theaters in America (you have to audition here. It's taken very, very seriously) and everyone likes the local high school football team. It has several great restaurants that would flourish wildly in any major city. There is the Weinhard cafe which seats maybe 30 and is the God of carrot-ginger soup. On the outskirts of town sits Patit Creek, a four star restaurant that requires reservations and a huge pocket book. Neither of these restaurants has a hamburger or a chicken caesar salad on their menu- the symbols of lower-class dining. For those items, you have to go across town.

There is one main street and all of the action takes place on two blocks of it, between the unmarked intersection of third street and the marked "must stop" cross walk of first street. The day spa, the Eagles club, two antique malls, a cyber cafe, the florist, the second hand store, the bakery, the butcher, my dentist, my bank, the historic courthouse, the pizzeria/bar, the five and dime store, my insurance agent, the 24 hour gym and the town bar are all located on these two blocks. There are no chains or franchises of any sort in town. Subway has a tiny outpost in the IGA, but that doesn't count because it blends in to look like every grocery store deli you have ever seen and the IGA sits practically outside of town. It's waaaaaay down main street by the fair grounds and the General store.

This past Monday night, a lightning storm hit one of the foothills just south of town. It started a fire which seemed, at first, to be containable. Early Tuesday morning the winds picked up and the fire raged across the foothills on a rampage to rid the world of Dayton. The Ponderosa - my home for so many years, was evacuated. I do not know if it's okay or not as I write this.

I turn my attention to the denizens of Dayton. The people that helped me create a life when I had none. I started this blog in the cyber cafe on main street! Many of my greatest visual-emotional writings came from the world in and around that magic place. There isn't a day that passes that I don't think of Dayton, the Ponderosa, Heidi, the horses, the chickens, and all of the majestic beauty that is the Forgottens. I am filled with sorrow and grief at the moment, as I am not aware to the extent of the damage. But I want to believe that when I get to Dayton on Friday that the black scar from the fire will somehow have just missed town and that it will "fit" into the landscape scheme. I must remember that fire is a good thing and it's sole purpose is to destroy what is old to make way for something new. Fire brings new life and perhaps it was time for that to happen. Perhaps this fire is just what the area needed.

I shall write again on Friday. Hopefully it will be from the cyber cafe in downtown Dayton, Washington.