Gold
A river of gold
When I was working in the mountains of the Cascades near the
Columbia River Gorge I had the joy and luck to witness a
scene of remarkable beauty, a river of liquid, pure gold. I
worked for the Forest Service as a surveyor for three summers
while I was an undergraduate student. I lived in a forest
service camp with the other student/workers. The camp was
located next to a mountain stream that fed the Columbia River
about seven miles down a winding canyon. Usually after a day
working in the field we would eat and lounge about the camp
reading, playing cards, or watching TV. Weekends were
divided between climbing expeditions or visits to the "city",
(White Salmon, pop. c. 2000?) to do the laundry or visit the
local bar. Often I would take evening strolls by the stream
that went by the camp. In days past the lumbermen of the
region had built a flume that was fed by that stream to
deliver logs and cut wood to the mills on the Columbia.
That flume remains in operation, the last working lumber flume in
the United States. The stream with it's flume was the place of
my earthly delight. There was the dense crowded woods, the
flowering mountain dogwood, the ferns and moss growing up the
wooden legs of the flume supports by each leak, the shafts of
sunlight slicing into the cool green undergrowth. No other
place, no other time can compare to the tranquillity I found
there.
Once I was sitting by the stream in the evening as the sky
was turning bright orange with the coming twilight. The day
had been quite hot and it felt cool and calm there by the
rushing water. I was sitting on a large volcanic stone and
resting when I turned my gaze to the stream. What I saw was
not the stream at all, but a river of liquid gold, burning
and molten, but at the same time cool. I could not see the
sky through the trees, but the angle off the stream caught
its reflection, now deep orange. I saw this river of gold, I
sat there transfixed and in awe for perhaps fifteen minutes.
I was aware of the reason but in the wonder and beauty of the
moment all I could think of was the gold running beside me,
the wealth it represented. The wealth was spiritual rather
than monetary and for that time I was certainly one of the
richest of men on earth.
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