Made it to the coast this weekend and finally to the Wreck of Peter Iredale. It was kind of a washed out sunset and there were oodles of people but I snuck a few shots in.
I'm continually amazed that these sites still exist and haven't been bulldozed for the sake of a slightly wider roads and more growing space. They don't seem significant enough to be granted protection under historic registers and likely only attract the attention of wayward photographers. Regardless of what keeps them around, I love them and always have a mental queue of more to visit. I'm hoping to stop by the museum when it is open this spring and get some factual information too.
Zebras! The first photos of zebras I saw in front of Mount Hood I thought must have been the work of photoshop and then, upon researching it further, I discovered that there was an exotic animal farm (Schreiner Farms) just across the river from The Dalles and these pics were the real deal. I stuck this photo in the Mac app Instant to make it look good and old school. Downfall was the zebra lost his butt because it has to be square. As a side note, when driving on the road by the farm, there is a rule (enforced by a million cameras) that you have to stay in your car and there are tall fences too.
I haven't even scratched the surface of visiting the sites of Oregon's settlers, but from what I've seen, there are a pretty good number of old, reasonably well-preserved relics of the first communities that truly sit in the middle of fields and have seldom visitors. I don't know why I find the buildings so intriguing, but I think it is somewhere in between appreciating their untouched stark beauty and imagining the significance of them in their active time period. Somehow, a sense of discovery always ensues upon finding these places too. Anyhow, the only info I could dig up on one of today's sites, Locust Grove Church, was that it was active between 1895 and 1914...and you can actually navigate there via Google Maps!
Speaking of magnificent Norwegian fishing shacks, here in Oregon, I found some of my own character splendor. One morning, I went on a scavenger hunt for an old house I had seen photographed. I ended up at a museum in a town that seemed way too small to even have a museum and got directions to its whereabouts. I've been there several times since because I love it. It sits in the middle of a field, has an amazing view of Mount Hood, and is in, what I consider, the perfect state of disrepair. I always feel a bit intrusive when I'm there, and, no, not because of the "No Trespassing' sign.
E.E. Cummings said that, not me, but I did fall in love with this puddle.