By Gary Randall, For The Mountain Times
Now that 2024 has ended, I find myself reflecting on the year gone by and wondering where the time has gone. Each year, I look back on the highlights, which are often my photography forays. The photographs are more than just images; they serve as a tangible record of what I’ve experienced. These trips, of course, require me to travel to other places, and each journey makes me think about my home on The Mountain.
There’s the obvious comfort of being back home — settling into my favorite chair, a cold beverage in hand, my little dog curled up on my lap. But it’s more than that. I’ve developed a deep love for where I live. Sometimes I think those of us lucky enough to call this place home get a little too accustomed to the beauty that surrounds us. We become conditioned to it. I don’t leave home to find beauty; I leave to experience other beautiful places. But I always look forward to returning to The Mountain.
When I’m away, I often find myself talking to people about where I live. I’m like a proud parent showing off pictures of their children. I share photos of Mount Hood, the towering forests along the Salmon River Trail, the stunning Columbia River Gorge, and the wide expanses of the Hood River Valley. I tell people that these places are just day trips from where I live — and they can hardly believe it.
I know that there are many others who do the kind of work I do, but they don’t return to a place as beautiful as this. In fact, where I live is on the bucket list of many landscape photographers. That’s how special our home is in the foothills of Mount Hood. So, when I return, I’m always happy to resume my walks — rain or shine — on our local trails.
I remember one trip to the desert canyons of Utah, where I spent a week hiking in the dry, hot climate. I had left behind months of rain on The Mountain, and I was eager to dry out in the sun. It was springtime, and though it was still rainy back home, the vine maples were beginning to burst with fresh green, and the big-leaf maples were spreading their leaves. The moss was thriving. But all that beauty unfolded while I was away.
When I returned from the desert and drove over Highway 35 and then through Government Camp and into Rhody, the fresh, moist air and vivid greens of the landscape felt like a soft embrace.
When I return from places like Hawaii, Iceland, or the Colorado Rockies, there’s always something uniquely special about home. The cool air after Hawaii feels divine; the closeness of our forests after Iceland feels like walking through a natural cathedral; and our snow-capped Mount Hood always stands out after the grandeur of the Rockies. Even after Montana’s wide-open spaces, I find myself grateful for the familiar trails and vistas of home.
But perhaps the best part of returning home is not just the natural beauty — it’s the community. The close-knit family that defines our area is what makes it truly special. All the beauty around us is wonderful, but the heart of this place lies in the people. It’s the friends and neighbors who make where I live complete. I’ve seen our community change over the years, but when it’s needed, we always come together. Without that sense of connection, all the stunning landscapes wouldn’t mean nearly as much.
At the end of the day, it’s the people who make this place feel like home. I have no doubt as to why I am always glad to return home.