Sept 12 - Boardman, OR

We did have stars last night. The Milky Way was a bright ribbon of light across the sky and the constellations were crystal clear. It’s been a long time since we had stars. The river again today is almost glass smooth. Across the river on the Washington side there are vineyards, but where there’s no irrigation there’s nothing but dried, brown dirt and scrub.

We were out washing Cleo, her first good bath in a long time, when all of a sudden we heard bagpipes. Someone listening to Scottish music? No, someone making Scottish music. At one of the camp sites down a little from us there was a piper warming up his bagpipe to get ready for a party in town where he was playing. There’s something about the pipes. People who like them immediately head toward them, and people who don’t start grumbling and go inside. Gerry is one of the latter, but my outlaw Scots-Irish ancestors left me the “likes bagpipes” gene and so I went to join his audience. He says he’s going to change out of his regalia after the party and go over to a little bandstand at the very end of the park and play this evening. I will go. Gerry won’t.


This is the view out our door here at Boardman.