Sauvie’s Island Sustenance

In recent weeks, a stasis has gripped me resulting in some severe depression. It’s not permanent, but there, then gone, then back again.

I’ve still been walking the dog four or five times a day; I’ve still been writing and producing books, but everything else feels stuck in place as I dwell upon these questions:

How much longer in Portland?

Where to go after Portland?

How to live?

What to write?

Who will bother following through?

I have been writing in my journal and confiding to a friend that I had to alter my routines and see something new. Advance always.

The idea was to venture to Sauvie’s Island and run Elmer down the river beach. But every time I wanted to go, the prospect of the drive, about 20 miles, daunted and ultimately defeated me.

Then one weekday morning. The sun shined, and I was thinking about Sauvie’s Island when Elmer came up to me at the couch, and I bounded up and said, “Elmer! We’re going to Sauvie’s Island!”

And so we did, passing dozens of derelict RVs, cars, tents, tarp shanties, and wandering homeless people along the way.

We crossed the bridge and I saw Mt. St Helens, Adams, Rainier and Hood. I’d never seen them all together at the same time. Powerful.

Two hours later, I had:

Seen Sand Hill cranes for the first time, hundreds flying over rotting pumpkin patches, making their strange, wonderful sound.

Bald eagles.

A magical RV park where I want to stay and write a book.

Some of the best farmland in the world, all of it saved by Tom McCall’s land use bill, the historic one he signed into law in 1973. Without it, Sauvie’s Island would resemble Beaverton.

A freighter on the Columbia River headed to Portland that produced the largest wake from a ship I have have seen.

Run with Elmer on the beach.

Picked up a choice cut of beaverwood and stuck it in my back pocket.

Saw enough driftwood to build a magisterial fort (next visit).

Not seen a homeless person or tent or derelict RV on the island.

Got my mind right and knew I must return to Sauvie’s Island regularly before the summer/fall madness engulfs it.