Lately, I've been spending more of my time on sidewalks and asphalt, but perhaps the most vital aspect of Portland which made me long to return during my intermittent years on the East Coast was the easy access to wilderness--not necessarily in the literal definition, but the psychological one. It's hard to explain to someone from here what it is like to have to drive three to four hours to get into a decent stand of woods, or to live in a state where the only public beaches are tiny, trash-strewn, and riddled with used needles.
It's been a while now since I've gone to hike the mountains or sleep in the real wilderness. The thing is, although I do miss that experience, in this town I never feel the same separation from that part of my life as I have in other areas. We manage a balance here: through it all, through the growing pains and the land use debates and the urban design, Portland keeps it all in perspective better than any place I've ever known. Tryon Creek is an important part of that. Portlanders know this, and non-Portlanders mythologize the way we live in the world. Maybe a little mythmaking isn't a bad thing.
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