Portland Hill Walks: Twenty Explorations in Parks and Neighborhoods Book

A few entries ago, I mentioned that I was working through the book Portland Hill Walks. I finished the book as the winter set in, taking the last few walks in unpredictable weather. Even now, as I flip through its pages to try to choose an exemplary walk to talk about, I get lost in the pleasantness of many of them, unable to select one single experience.

Due to the different focal points of the two Foster books I've gone through so far, this one is farther ranging than the other, frequently taking me along the outer rim of the city, through the ring of hills that define it. Another Foster book which I haven't yet gotten to is The Portland Stairs Book, more recent than Hill Walks, but Foster's interest shows in the older writing. By the third or fourth walk, I was convinced that Foster never met a staircase she didn't like. There were the steep stairs used for training by the Portland Fire Department in King's Heights, the surprising and damp stairs downhill and to the west of Council Crest, the well used steps of Mt. Tabor, the narrow, truant-sheltering stairs leading up and down the Alameda Ridge. And it's not just hidden staircases: a one point, when doing a walk in Portland Heights, I saw a small planked bridge over a ravine and found myself surprised the route didn't cross it, as it seemed just the sort of thing which would catch Foster's attention. But I needn't have worried: she included it at the end of the walk. I just needed a little more patience.

On that same walk (or perhaps it was the other one in Portland Heights) I stopped with my daughter and dog for gelato at the locally loved Lamb's/Strohecker's. As we sat outside, we were charmed by the employee who came bearing doggie treats. On another walk, a woman stopped me on Cumberland to ask if I was using the Foster book and to talk about a walk she'd taken guided by Foster (nothing but kind things to say!), and later, another woman approached me as she saw me looking at the Simeon Winch house on Cornell. She told me of growing up in the neighborhood, and of the descendants of the Winch family (I believe) whom she remembered living there. She then spoke of the new owners and the work they've done on the house, taking me up the sidewalk to a spot where I could best appreciate how they'd been faithful to the historical period of the kitchen design. She was very happy to report that these new owners hadn't bowed to the current marble counter craze.

On the Linnton walk, I wound up interweaving my stroll along Leif Erikson with the path of a family, and we walked down the fire trail across Germantown Road together. Later, I was sized up by some salty locals as I had lunch in a neighborhood pub. I have a wonderful story with photographic illustrations of a baby squirrel running up my jeans on the Eastmoreland walk, much to its mother's outrage. I encountered, chatted with, and gave directions to an itinerant new to the streets of Portland in old Albina, and I'm fairly certain he'd just gotten off a hopped train.

In other words, this Foster book too is a gem. I can't get enough. I wish there were a Foster walk in store for me five days a week. I don't think I would ever get bored, and that's saying something. Once again, I am very grateful to have found these books, and to Ms. Foster for the new appreciation she has given me of my adopted home.