Tilikum Crossing From Terwilliger Blvd

3723This, the full name of which is Tilikum Crossing, Bridge of the People, is the newest and most unique of Portland's signature bridges, a cable-stayed design that opened to the transit- and bicycle-using public in 2015. It is not a general traffic bridge, but is restricted and designed for buses, light rail and streetcar, and bicycle and pedestrian access only. It connects from the west at a point off South Moody Avenue just south of the Riverplace district and ties into the east via a access called SE Tilikum Way which bends to become a block of SE 7th Avenue feeding into SE Division Place. It opened in 2015.

A public naming contest was conducted; Tilikum Crossing wasn't the popular choice but the choice TriMet went with. The popular choice was honoring the legendary street performer "Working" Kirk Reeves, may he long live in our hearts, but that just didn't have the gravitas that they were looking for, we guess. That said, the word tilikum is Chinuk Wawa meaning people in the sense of family or tribe and meant to pay homage to the indigenous inhabitants ... the Multnomahs, the Clackamas, and others who lived here before we white people go there, and if they weren't going to go with the people's choice, at least they went with something with a lot of heart and Native soul.

Interesting Fun Fact!: The bridge, as mentioned earlier, is transit and pedestrian/bike only. So, as you sit comfortably (and properly socially-distanced) in a TriMet motor coach or a MAX train, you can grin smugly at the people crossing in cars just to the north via the Marquam Bridge or to the south on the Ross Island Bridge. Of course, they're too far away to see you; the victory is a Pyrrhic one. It is, never the less, real, and yours.

The Ross Island Bridge From Terwilliger Blvd

3722The Ross Island Bridge the span that carries US Hwy 26 across the Willamette and from Southwest Portland (Well, it starts in South, now) to Southeast Portland. For a time in the 90s, me and the Brown Eyed Girl lived in a 4-plex down SE 8th Avenue in the Brooklyn section of town and coming home from work over the bridge (and, sometimes, going to work) I got to see a lot of Wy'east in morning and evening light. That, indeed, was its own reward.

The foliage on the parkway provides its own framing. That tower on the right there is for the OHSU Tram. It opened in 1926 and was named for nearby Ross Island, who itself was named for the early Portlander who had a donation land claim on that island, Sherry Ross. It is a cantilever deck truss bridge, supposedly quite rare in Oregon.

Interesting Fun Fact!: Ross Island Bridge actually crosses the river just north of the island and doesn't go to the island itself. As a youth I love bridges and islands and islands that have bridges go to them, so when I finally figured out that the Ross Island Bridge doesn't actually go there, I harbored a bitter petty existential resentment that endures to this very day.

The Lloyd District from Terwilliger Blvd

3721There is an area of town called the Lloyd District, and it's undergone some changes over the years.

Generally speaking, this area of town centers along NE Broadway and Weidler, and goes from Williams Avenue on the west to about 15th Avenue on the east. It's spiritual heart is the Lloyd Center Mall, which has gone through many evolutions over the years and is now in what seems to be an accelerated metamorphosis into sort of a second downtown for Portland. More high-rises, more business, fewer shops and whatnot. Even the seminal Lloyd Center itself seems to be on the decline despite some passionate rebranding over the last few years.

But this is what it looks like, today, from one of the viewpoints on Terwilliger:

That would amount to a respectable downtown in any medium-sized city anywhere else. In Portland, that's our back-up downtown in case we ever have to send the usual one in for service.

In the washed out horizon blue of the oppressively clear day, Luuit keeps its own counsel.

The Viewpoint, The Restaurant, And The Totem Pole

3720Let's return to Terwilliger Blvd.

At 5700 SW Terwilliger Blvd in Portland there is an upscale restaurant with panoramic views of Portland and dinner prices to match; it's unit of the Chart House chain of fine dining establishments (If you have to ask, you can't afford it™). The Brown Eyed Girl and me ate there just once, a very long time ago, on a gift certificate. I had a pepper steak. It was superb.

It is the only address that's obvious, commercial or residential, along the whole of the Terwilliger parkway.

The restaurant in question.

There is a small parking lot in front but, oddly, even though it looks like it should be, is not strictly speaking, the restaurants. The Chart House exists at a public viewpoint called the Elk Point viewpoint, and you can park there (provided you can find a spot) for two hours no matter who you are, what your vehicle looks like, and take in the view. It's quite a lovely look.

Wy'east, from this vantage, seems far off and just a blip on the horizon, or maybe it was the overwhelming blue of the sky diminishing things (this is one reason I dislike clear bright blue days. They're actually quite dreary. The great leveller.) but I had to play a trick or two after downloading this to make it look anything like good.

But the majesty shows through.

... because it's Wy'east, and that's the way Wy'east be.

The real revelatory treat of the Elk Point viewpoint is the totem pole, however. dulled by age, it's none the less impressive for stature, about 50 feet tall, and if the story of the carvings are somewhat inscrutable to those without indigenous roots, it commands respect, and has a rather legendary creator: Chief Leelooska.

Chief Leelooska's Totem Pole at Elk Point

I had heard little of Leelooska but education was quickly to be found to hand electronically. The Chief was Cherokee, but was a great storehouse of cultural knowledge of many Native tribes, and had an especial love for the art of the Pacific Northwest coast. He was, in course, adopted by a branch of a Northwest tribe living in southwest Washington (the Leelooska Foundation, an educational organization and indigenous museum, is located in Ariel, a community on the Clark-Cowlitz county border). A page at Friends of Terwilliger has it thus:

Born Cherokee, Chief Lelooska (1933-1996) was adopted into the Kwakwaka’wakw, and was known for his mastery of storytelling and carving. As a scholar and educator, Chief Lelooska was recognized as significant resource on Native Americans in North America with a particular emphasis on the tribes of the Northwest coastal region. He was known for his versatility in wood sculpting, creating artwork that ranged in size from hand-held rattles and feast bowls to large-scale totem poles. The “Totem Pole” at Elk Point Viewpoint serves as an excellent example of Chief Lelooska’s work and is a prized part of Portland’s public art collection.

The pole lived at the Oregon Zoo for years and was apparently moved to Elk Point in 2014. It shows its age, and they're looking to restore it. But even as weathered as it is, its still magnificent in its dignity.

The Marquam Bridge From Terwilliger Blvd

3719SW Terwilliger Blvd, which extends in a parkway from its origin at the intersection of SW 6th Avenue and Sheridan Street at the north end of Duniway Park to George Himes Park in the Hillsdale area, offers quite a few of Portland's surfeit of gorgeous viewpoint opportunities, which is a natural, as at some points along that throughfare are over 500 feet in elevation and face the city on the east face of Portland's posh West Hills - as well as welcome shade and about 15 degress Fahrenheit off the seasonably, distastefully warm mid-July Oregon weather.

And here is just one.

This is an angle on the Marquam Bridge, the span that combines I-5 and I-405 at the west end (the one closest to our viewpoint) and takes them over the Willamette to access points north via I-5 and east via I-84. Close by those soaring ramps over the river on the opposite side of the Willamette is the southern part of the central east side's business area; notable immediately above and to the left of the center of the shot is the Weatherly Building, at the corner of SE Morrison St and Grand Avenue. Immediately to the right of that is a building with a red brick exterior that only existed since about this time last year; indeed, the practiced visual Portlander should immedately see a number of buildings that have fundamentally changed the nature of the area.

In the upper left distance there is the tower of The Fontaine Apartements, a high-rise which stakes out the eastern extent of the Lloyd District.

Beyond these, blending to urban forest, the inner east side of Portland. Beyond that, Cascade foothills.

A view they can't charge you for ... not yet, anyway.

Wy'east From Elk Point, July 15th 2020

3717We went on a long ol' drive today, spanning the city to bring you the constant variety of sports. Only there was no sports. So I took shots of other things.

I learned there was a place in the West Hills of Portland called Elk Point, and that it has luscious views. Here's a bit of one, run through the posterizing filter on the Canon to bring out some detail.

Wy'east, a perennial favorite of mine, from a viewpoint I don't usually aspire to. But more on that later.

[pdx] Day of the Wildfire Smoke, Part 1

3218.

The numerous wildfires in the eastern 2/3rds of Oregon and Washington are usually things those of us in the Willamette Valley hear of on the news, complete with pictures and live remotes.

Usually. Because this year, since the fires are so numerous and all following the 7 Habits of Highly Effective Wildfires (Rules 1-6 read 'burn everything', and rule 7 is 'when in doubt, see rules 1-6), and since we are afflicted with yet another continental weather system providing us with abundant offshore flow (a Pacific Northwest weathercaster term meaning the winds all go to the Pacific), this hellish fire season, everyone west of the Cascades gets a taste of it, and those with respiratory issues are strongly advised to stay indoors.

The day, Saturday, August 22nd, dawned auspiciously. Red sky at morning, Oregonian take warning; the morning sun was shinin' like a red rubber ball.

The above was taken at about 0715, as I departed my work site. The morning was remarkably amber from then on; the quality of the light in the air was more appropriate to sunset than not long after sunrise. And, all that day, I found myself wondering how much worse it would get. It's a good thing I got pictures; I myself couldn't foresee how sepulchral it would eventually get.

From about noon through to about 6 PM I spent the day in the company of some of my chums from high-school, and a better gathering could not have been had by anyone. The location was in Tigard, which is as far as you can go in the SW direction and remain in the Portland urban agglomerative disk. The haze thickened over the day. By the time we left and worked our way back through Tigard, this is what SW Pacific Hwy near SW 72nd Avenue and the Fred Meyer store looked like:

… and this was SW Barbur Blvd in the vicinity of SW 30th Ave (which is the light in the middle distance):

Despite the lateness of my day, I thought a viewpoint was needed. Portland's SW Terwilliger Blvd is famous for places to park and take in the pulchritdinousness that is Portland's city landscape from a point with a view. But today, this is mostly what Portland looked like from Terwilliger:

My city was gone.

The Tilikum Crossing:

Bridge of the people; smoke from the distant wildfires. More like Twilight of the Gods around here.

And this, the Marquam Bridge:

Absolute visibility here is something less than 2 miles. Clear visibility? Much less than that.

This view point is good for framing downtown Portland with views of Mount Saint Helens. Today's shot makes us imagine downtown Portland if Loo-Wit has erupted the other direction.

Another angle on the Marquam Bridge. Those buildings are new hotels and condos in the Riverplace and South Waterfront districts.

Our adventure continued east into the Hawthorne district. About which, anon.