Smoke, Fog and Nostalgia

Small town life isn't for everyone, but it does have a certain sort of beauty and comfort. You know your neighbors and have explored every inch of terrain. It's your home and if ever a place felt like a hug, that's it. To me that hug was just a little too tight and got tighter every day. Now I have the Wanderlust in me, but I'll always feel nostalgia for that little slice of town; Scappoose, OR.

When I think of my hometown I think of scraped knees, dirty hands and fresh air. My family lived on 14 acres which bordered Grandpa Cronin's property. I couldn't tell you the exact acreage but between the two properties it was over 30 acres. This included fields, woods, orchards, streams; the perfect playground. So many of my days were filled with laughter and friends, one of our many joys was building forts. Our carpentry skills were lacking but our imaginations were not. We never saw ourselves as princesses but we certainly had castles. When we couldn't build we would carve out tunnels in the blackberries or explore the woods which was filled with little fairy hideouts. For lunch we would eat whatever we could pick, pluck or pull from the trees or ground and for dinner we would listen for the cowbell. As I got older my exploring turned outward. I discovered the world had, perhaps a little less magic, but definitely more beauty than I ever imagined.

My hometown Scappoose is nestled between Portland and St. Helens along the Columbia River. As is the theme in today’s world it is always expanding but still has that small town charm. If you're local you'll know the charms well. My friends and I used to explore the hiking trail along the old logging road. It was well known to the teenagers in the area and reminiscent to my childhood years we used to carve out tunnels in the bushes that bordered the path. It seemed with every chance we got we were exploring and carving out our spot in the world.

We learned what hills to go up to disappear in the woods and the best roads to drive. One of those drives will take you along the dike and it feels endless. There you’ll see far reaching farms and fields on one side, and the Columbia River winding around thick forest. Along your travels you might come to an old abandoned loading bay and the location source of my photo. Us locals call this spot The Alter however officially it's named Chapman Landing.

I've visited this spot so many times that when I come back I expect it to bear some physical mark showing that I had been there. It never does unless you can read it in the scuff marks from the thousands of feet that have tread there. Old and new graffiti decorates the concrete slab that overlooks the river and somehow lends to the peacefulness of the area. This photo was taken this past summer (2020) as fires in the nearby areas raged. It was a devastating time yet on this slab all was quiet, almost peaceful. It was eerie looking out along the river, one boat bobbing in the water as the world burnt down. If you weren’t already aware you might think it was fog perhaps on an early morning. However standing there, without a trace of fresh air, lungs burning, I knew a sort of sad nostalgia like I had never known before.