I like a mountain that comes and goes, and Mt. Hood is such a mountain. You don’t always see it, so you never grow tired of it.
Yes, Mount Hood is a volcano just 56 miles from the front door of Powell’s Books in Portland…it’s the highest point in Oregon, measuring 11,235 feet tall when it stands up straight…it’s home to a full-service ski resort and 12 glaciers that quench one-third of all Oregonians…and it’s ringed by 1,200 miles of hiking trails–but what really impresses me is the way the whole thing disappears regularly.
Subject to a variety of atmospheric conditions, Mount Hood can be veiled for days at a time behind a layer of mist, haze, rain or fog. But then suddenly one day — in the winter, spring, summer or fall — Tah Dah! It’s standing there in all its glory, like a movie star on a street corner. You almost can’t help but point and yell, “Look, it’s Mount Hood!”
Now, if it was there all the time, like one of Portland’s old, faithful, 120-foot tall Douglas Fir trees by your front porch, you’d probably get a little used to it. You wouldn’t walk out your door and gasp, “Wow! Look at that tree!” But, if it disappeared often, you’d be pretty excited when it came back.
Not only does Mt. Hood keep itself hidden, when it returns, it’s often in a fanciful form–either displaying a pink ethereal glow, a ghostly glimmer, or at times it’s right in your face, revealing every craggy, regal detail.
And then there’s the phenomenon of the mountain always appearing to be right in front of you, like the sun, wherever you go. You can be heading east on Highway 14, up in Washington, and it’s rising right out of the road. Or, you could be way down in Oregon City, and there it is again, hanging out in your neighbor’s backyard.
As a result, literally millions of people in the Portland metropolitan area have a personal relationship with Mount Hood.
We can see it from our bedroom windows, computer desks, balconies and driveways. It’s our mountain, and we celebrate its return with unabashed excitement, especially if it puts on a performance in front of out-of-town guests.
That’s when we try to be nonchalant about it and say, “Oh yeah, that’s our dear little volcano.” Little do visitors know that the appearance of Mount Hood is as thrilling to us, as it is to them.
Which brings me back to being thankful for a mountain that provides all of Portland with surprise grand performances — and we’re all season ticket holders.
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