I’m on a plane from Portland, OR to Chicago. Well, not even Chicago, and that’s the real bummer of it. The next three nights will be spent in Northbrook, IL, without a car, and therefore little to no prospect of spending time strolling Michigan Avenue, despite its existence a mere 20 miles away. Sigh.
My jaunt to Portland was all too short. Portland will forever hold a special place in my heart, as will the Northwest in general. It was 6 years ago when I landed in Portland for my first bonafide recruiting trip for my first admissions job. I was so excited. I had just moved to Boston, accepted a great job, was making wonderful friends and was seeing a part of the country I never had before. As the plane made its decent, I looked out my window and there she was.
Mt. Hood was welcoming me to the Northwest in all her majesty. And so began my love affair with mountains.
Well, wait a minute. Let me clarify.
What I adore about trips to places like Portland and Seattle is the single, prominent mountain in the backdrop of the landscape. You can be traveling along I-5, minding your own, when you round a corner and BOOM, a beautiful snow capped mountain claims its place in the panorama.
There’s something so breathtaking about this scenario. While a mountain chain such as the Rockies has its splendor, there’s just something so much more magical to me about the singular magnificence of the Mt. Hoods, the Mt. Raniers, and the Mt. St. Helen’s of the world.
Or maybe it’s an only child thing.
Either way, when I landed in Portland for the first time back in 2001, I picked up my rental car and made my way up East Airport Way. Mt. Hood kept its place to my left, and I did everything in my power to keep my eyes on the road and off the mountain.
I made my way to my hotel room. I opened the shade. Mt. Hood took almost every inch of my view.
I’ve loved her ever since.
The same can be said of Ranier in Seattle. Her difference is she’s rounded at the top, versus Mt. Hood’s distinct point. But every picture I covet of the Seattle landscape (and there are many) display the Space Needle prominently, with Ranier clear in view to its right, and not hidden in the fog and rain always associated with its home.
I adore this region for any number of reasons. The mountains, the hills, the trees, the fashion (where fleece is hip and makeup minimal), the cleanliness and, as always, the people. At times too subdued for my taste, Northwesterners nevertheless remind me that they are in the running for the kindest folks in the States. They just accomplish it in a much laid back kind of way.
So my trip to Portland just didn’t feel right this time around, as Mt. Hood was only in view to wish me farewell and ask that I return again. I landed at night on Wednesday, and drove around most of Thursday amidst a heavy fog. But she made me smile just the same when I saw her as I drove to the airport. Perhaps this all sounds a bit romantic and silly to you, but while I am experiencing the most rewarding professional growth in this stage of my life, a stage of astounding personal growth began with that first trip to Oregon in ’01. I went from fresh grad to adult and learned lessons about myself that, in reality, continue today.
I look out the window and we’re over the Rockies as I type this. You sure are pretty, and you sure make my plane shake, but you’re no Hood. She is a unique standalone beauty, an independent power, at times a bit of a loner, a force to be reckoned with when handled restlessly, but, in general, a warm and inviting part of the environment.
Ok, ok. Kind of like me.
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