PictureTrail is going bye bye. PictureTrail, where I store ukubillion photos, even paying for additional storage that would be there “forever”. I even took the time to write captions on my photos. Shoots. So I’ll transfer everything over here to my blog and make albums in my computer. Twice the work, but then I’ll have them archived here and there.
Nolemana and I took this drive in May, 2005, and it was wonderful. So hold on…we go!
Highway 141 Towards Trout Lake
White Salmon River, Just upriver from where kayakers practice in white water.
Close-up of bridge over the highway
There were no kayakers here today as when my friends and I were here five days earlier, but it’s wonderful view of where they practice in white water.
You know how I love old barns!
Mount Adams … still not willing to come out from behind the clouds.
I love these photos of the old barn.
Bison!
Orchards Looking Toward Mount Hood On Highway 141 heading east to White Salmon
Now we’re going to head up Dalles Mountain Road from the south instead of north like I did five days ago with my friends. This is the Columbia River along State Highway 14 in Washington.
Great Timing!
Just as we got to the tunnel, we could see a train heading into it heading west. Nolemana was able to snap this shot just as it emerged from the tunnel!
Here we go up Dalles Mountain Road!
Dalles Mountain Road; wonderful old fence:
Photos from the road.
Dalles Mountain Ranch:
I found out that this old ranch is located in Columbia Hills State Park (which includes the Horsethief Lake area and Dalles Mountain Ranch area). While we were here, a couple of women asked the Park Service guy who was working around the ranch about hiking trails; apparently, people can hike up to the top of Dalles Butte, and the view and wildflowers are said to be incredible from up there.
We got out of the car and walked around the old house; I would love to know the history of this place. I can just hear “Hildy” saying to “John”, “Oh John, I am so tired of this everlasting wind!”
“I know, Hildy, but look at the view! You can see the Columbia River, and all the way across to Oregon!”
Hildy: “Yes, John, but I miss the trees we had back home in Pennsylvania. It was so green back there… I am so homesick!”
John: “Now Hildy, quit yer cryin’. There’s nothin’ to be done for it. This is our home now. How ’bout you rustle us up some dinner, and then you’ll feel much better”.
Hildy: “You just don’t understand! It won’t make me feel better. All you can think about is eating!”
Okay, this is getting ridiculous! I will stop here.
“John” and “Hildy’s” home, empty and alone, full of memories and now-silent voices. It made me wish houses could talk and tell the stories of the people who have lived in them.
The next section of our drive has plenny photos, so I’ll stop here and continue next time.
A Mānoa Girl's Bloggie 
We’ve driven that road to Trout Lake many times to go to the Mt. Adams Horse Camp! Good memories; hope we can go again in the post-pandemic future. I, too, think about the past lives of old, abandoned homes and homesteads, and think how sad it is that what was once someone’s dream come true is now desolate.
I love what you wrote about someone’s dream come true, Michelle. I wonder if they had visions of family living there for generations and generations to come. It’s good to know that you’ve driven that road to Trout Lake, too! Thanks for commenting!
Thank you for taking us along on this road trip. I can’t remember the last time I was on a road trip, so it’s nice to live vicariously through yours.
I *love* that fence. Made with materials on hand, it’s beautiful but functional.
Back in the days when we could travel, when my other half would be driving at night, I would look at the lights in distant houses in the country and wonder about the people who lived there in a place so different from where I live.
You and me both, wondering about the people and their lives. Like going through the Palouse country in Idaho and seeing isolated farmhouses.
I’ll be so glad when we can go on road trips again. And I always love it when you ride shotgun.