The cycling schedule is full again. So are the rivers around here, swollen with snowmelt from the mountains, and roaring. Here’s some of what I saw on a ride this afternoon, a section of the Yakima roaring along muddy and almost into the fields and towns. In the upper center, you see an enormous tree that the force of the water tore out of the bank somewhere upstream.
Fifty yards from the river, all was serene. The view is west, toward the Cascades, where in spring the snow becomes water that runs down into the tributaries that fill the Yakima, which feeds the mighty Columbia.
The Columbia, as Woody Guthrie made everyone aware, rolls on.