Glistening in the afternoon light, as dark clouds massed, the waters were free of development
On the flight on the way into Portland we spent the final 15 minutes of our descent passing oyer endless expanses of water: lakes and tributaries of the migh ty Colombia, the river to which Pordand owes its existence. Glistening in the afternoon light, even as dark clouds massed, the waters were also free of development, with only occasional buildings and boats visible. By the time we landed though, very little was visible because the rain had arrived, and what a deluge.
It had been a wet June before we arrived on BA267 into Portland International, but by the time we took the bus from the airport, it was torrential. Standing water on Interstate 84 turned the road surface into a giant lake with vehicles seemingly water-skiing their way into the city. Closer to the city and by the side of the road, bedraggled tents were the first sign of Pordand's appalling homelessness problem, though not the last. A brief dash from the kerb to under the awning of our hotel - The Heathman -gave us the first
