Music Welcome to snoozecast. The podcast is designed to help you fall asleep. Find us at snoozecast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by Hand-Clarved Ice Cubes. Tonight, we'll read a non-fiction sleep story we call a dream of the 1890s in Portland that was first aired back in 2020. It comes from excerpts from Oregon, Washington and Alaska, sites and scenes for the tourist, published in 1890 by EL Lomax. Our title is a reference to a sketch from the show Portlandia. The author, Edward Lloyd Lomax, remains a somewhat ectenic-matic figure, with scant biographical information available. However, Lomax's legacy is particularly tied to this seminal travel guide we will read tonight. His contribution to travel literature is significant for its detailed firsthand descriptions, which served as valuable resources for travelers and enthusiasts of American frontiers. Officially incorporated in 1851, Portland grew steadily, forming an identity as an industrial trading town. Up into the 1890s, Portland hosted the Pacific Northwest's largest port, only to be surpassed by Seattle. Let's get cozy. Close your eyes. Relax your body into the softness of your bed. Now, take a few deep breaths. Portland is a very beautiful city of 60,000 inhabitants and situated on the Williamit River 12 miles from its junction with the Columbia. It is perhaps true of many of the growing cities of the West that they do not offer the same social advantages as the older cities of the east but this is principally the case as to what may be called boom cities, where the larger part of the population is of that floating class which follows in the line of temporary growth for the purposes of speculation, and in no sense applies to those centers of trade whose prosperity is based on the solid foundation of legitimate business. As the metropolis of a vast section of country, having broad agricultural valleys filled with improved farms, surrounded by mountains rich in mineral wealth and boundless forests of as fine timber as the world produces. The cause of Portland's growth and prosperity is the trade which it has as the center of collection and distribution of this great wealth of natural resources. And it has attracted Dr the boomer and speculator who find their profits in the wild excitement of the boom, but the merchant, manufacturer, and investor who seek the sure if slower channels of legitimate business and investment. have come from the East, most of them within the last few years. They came as seeking a better and wider feel to engage in the same occupations they had followed in their Eastern homes, and bringing with them all the love of polite life, which they had acquired there,

have established here a new society, equaling in all respects at which they left behind. Here are as fine churches, as complete a system of schools, as fine residences, as great a love of music and art as can be found at any city of the east of equal size. But while Portland may justly claim to be the peer of any city of its size in the United States, in all that pertains to social life, in the attractions of beauty of location and surroundings it stands peer. The work of art is but the copy of nature. What the residents of other cities see but in the copy, or must travel half the world over to see in the original, the resident of Portland has at his very door. The city is situated on gently sloping ground with, on the one side, the river, and on the other a range of hills, which, within easy walking distance, rise to an elevation of a thousand feet above the river, affording a most picturesque building site. the very streets of the thickly settled portion of the city, the Cascade mountains, with the snow-capped peaks of hood, atoms, St. Helens, and Rainier are in plain view. As the hills to the west are ascended, the view broadens until until from the extreme top of some of the higher points there is to the east, the valley stretching away to the Cascade Mountains, with its rivers, the Columbia, and the Willamette, in the foreground Portland, in the middle distance Vancouver, and bounding the horizon, the Cascade Mountains, with their snow-clad peaks in the gorge of the Columbia and plain sight, waltzed away to the north, the course of the Columbia may be followed for miles. To the west, from the foot of the hills, the valley stretches away 20 odd miles to the coast range, which alone shuts out the view of the Pacific Ocean and bounds the horizon on the west. To the glaciers of Mount Hood is about little more than a day's travel. The gorge of the Columbia, which in many respects equals, and in others surpasses the far-famed Yosemite, may be visited in the compass of a day. The upper Willamette, within the limits of a few hours trip, offers beauties equaling the Rhine, while 36 hours gives the lower Columbia the side which the Rhine and Hudson sink into insignificance, in short, within a few hours walk of the heart of this busy city are beauties surpassing the White Mountains or Andorondacks in the grandeur of the Alps lies within the limits of a day's picnicking. There is no better guarantee of the advantageous position of Portland than the wealth which has accumulated here in the short period which has elapsed since the city first sprang into existence. Theory is all very well, but the actual proof is in the result. At the taking of the census of 1880, Portland was the third wealthiest city in the world in proportion to population, since the date wealth has accumulated at an unprecedented rate, and it is probable it is today the wealthiest. Among all her wealthy men, not one can be singled out, who did not make his money here, who did not come here poor to grow rich. Portland enjoys superb advantages as a starting point for tourist travel. After the traveler has enjoyed the numerous attractions of that wealthy city, traversed its beautiful avenues, viewed a strikingly noble landscape from the heights, and explored those charming environments which extend for miles up and down the Willamette. There remains perhaps the most invigorating and healthful trip of all. A journey either by stream, sound, or sea. There must ever remain in the mind of the tourist, a peculiarly delightful recollection of a day on the majestic Columbia River, the all-too-short run across the glorious sheet of water, Puget Sound, For the 50 hours luxurious voyage on the Pacific Ocean, from Portland

to San Francisco. Beginning first with the Columbia River, the traveler will find solid comfort on any one of the boats belonging to the Union Pacific Railway fleet. This river division is separated into three subdivisions, the lower Columbia from Portland to Astoria, the middle Columbia from Portland to Cascade Locks, and the Upper Columbia from the Cascades to the Dalles, the Upper Columbia, first tour. passengers will will remember that arriving at the Dalles on the Union Pacific Railway, they have the option of proceeding into Portland, either by Rail or River, and their ticket is available for either route. The River trip will be found a very pleasant diversion after the long railway ride, and a day's sail down the majestic Columbia is a memory picture which lasts a lifetime. It is 88 miles by rail to Portland. The train's skirting the river banks up to within a few miles of the city. By river, it is 45 miles to the Upper Cascades, then a six mile portage via narrow gauge railway, then 60 miles by steamer again to Portland. The boat leaves the dals at about seven in the morning and reaches Portland at six in the evening. The accommodations on these boats are first class in every respect. Good table, neat state rooms, and courteous attendance. This tour is planned for those who may wish to start from Portland by the Union Pacific Railway. Take the evening train from Portland to the Dalles, arriving at the Dalles, walk down to the boat, which lies only a few yards downstream from the station, sleep on board, so that you may be ready early in the morning for the stately panorama of the river. Another plan is to give a day to the interesting country in the near vicinity. The dals proper of the Columbia begin at Salilo, 14 miles above this point, and are simply a succession of rapids until nearing the dals station. The stream, for two and a half miles, narrows down between walls of rock, feet across. In the flood tides of the spring, the water in this chasm has risen 126 feet. The word d'Alse is rather misleading. The word is French, d'Al, and means variously, a plate, a flagstone, a slab, a looting to the oval or square-shaped stones, which abound in the riverbed and the valley above. But the early French hunters and trappers call the chasm, or gorge d'Al's, meaning in their vernacular, a trough dals it has remained. There is a quaint legend connected with the spot, which may interest the curious, and it runs something on this wise. Clark's fork and the snake's river, it will be remembered, unite at Ainsworth to form the Columbia. It flows furiously for a hundred miles and more westward, and when it reaches the outlying ridges of the Cascade Chain, where it finds an immense low surface paved with enormous sheets of rock. Leaving the dals in the morning, a splendid panorama begins to unfold on this lordly stream, a kill ease of rivers as Winthrop called it. It is difficult to describe the charm of this trip. Residents of the east pronounce its superior to the Hudson, and travelers assert there is nothing like it in the old world. It is simply delicious to those escaped from the heat and dust of their far-off homes to embark on this noble stream, and steam smoothly down past frowning headlands, and rocks with carbon images, bluff slined with pine trees, vivid green past islands and falls, and distant views of snowy peaks. There is no trip like it on the coast, and for a river excursion, there is not its equal in the United States. The Isle of the Dead. Twelve miles below the Dows, there is a lonely rugged island anchored midstream. It is bare, safe for white monument which rises from its rocky brast, no living thing, no vestige, or tree, or shrub appears, and Captain McNulty, as he stood at the wheel and studied the queen, said that monument, its Victor Trevitz.

Of course, you never heard of him, but he was a great man all the same in the old times, and no mistake. Member of one of the early legislators, sort of a general peacemaker, everybody went to him with their troubles. When he said a lawsuit didn't go, it didn't. So much has been said of this mighty river that the preconceived idea of the tourist is of a surging flood of unknown depth rushing like a mountain torrent. The plain facts are that the lower Columbia is rather a

placid stream with a sluggish current and the channel shows up to 8 feet then falling to 12, 15 and 17 feet and suddenly dropping to a hundred feet of water and over. In the spring months it will rise from 25 to 40 feet, leaving drift would high up among the trees on the banks. The tide ebbs and flows at Portland from 18 inches to 3 feet according to season. And this title influences felt in high water as far up as the cascades. It is fifty miles of glorious beauty from the dals to the cascades. Here we leave the steamer and take a narrow gauge railway for six miles around the magnificent rapids. At the foot of the cascades we boarded twin boat,

fitted up with equal taste and comfort. The Middle Columbia. Swinging once more downstream, we pass hundreds of charming spots, 60 miles of changeful beauty, the way to Portland, Montmauah Falls, a filmy veil of water falling 720 feet into a basin on the hillside, and then 130 feet to the river, past the rocky walls of Cape Horn, towering up a thousand feet, past that curious freak of nature, rooster rock and the pal palisades, past Fort Vancouver, were grant and share it in were once stationed, and just at sunset leaving the Columbia, which by this time has broadened into noble dimensions. We ascend the Willamette twelve miles to Portland, and the memory of that day's journey down the Lordly River will remain a gracious possession for years to come. The legend of the Cascades. There is a quaint legend concerning the Cascades to the effect that away back in the forgotten times there was a natural bridge across the river. The water flowing under one arch, the great spirit, had made this bridge very beautiful for his children. It was firm, solid earth, and covered with trees and grass. The two great giants who sat always glowering at each other from far away, mount Adams and mount Hood, quarrel terribly once on a time, and the sky grew black with their smoke and the earth trembled with their roaring, and in their rage and fury they began to throw great stones and huge mountain boulders at one another. This great battle lasted for days, and when the smoke and the thundering had passed away, and the sun shone peacefully again, the people came back once more. But there was no bridge there. Pieces of rock made small islands above the lost bridge.

But below that the river fredded and shouted and plunged over jagged and twisted boulders for miles down the stream, throwing the spray high in air, madly spending its strength and treacherous whirlpools, and deep seductive currents, ever after to be

wrathful, complaining, dangerous. The stoutest warrior could not live in that terrible torrent, so the beautiful bridge was lost, destroyed in this tightened battle. But far down in the water could be seen many of the stately trees, which the great spirit caused to remain there as a token of the bridge. These he turned to stone. And they are there, even unto this day. The theory of the scientists, of course, runs counter to the pretty legend. Science usually does destroy poetry, and they tell us that a part of the mountain slid into the river, thus accounting for the remnant of a forest down in the deep water. Moreover, pieces which have been recovered show the wood to be live timber and not petrified as the poetic fiction has it. The Columbia has not changed in the centuries, but flows in the same channel here as when in the remote ages the lava overflowing, cut out a course and left its pathways clear for all time. low the lower cascades, a sea coral formation is found, grayish in color, and not very pretty, but showing conclusively its sea formation. Sandstone is also at times uncovered, showing that this was made by sea deposit before the lava flowed down upon it. This organ country is set to be the largest lava district in the world. The formations in the volcanic lands of Sicily and Italy are famous for their richness, and organ holds out the same promise for agriculture. The lava formation runs from Portland to Spokane Falls, as far north as Tacoma, and south as far as Snake River. All basaltic formations overlaid with an incomparably rich soil. The trip from Portland by rail to the Douth, if the Taurus should chance not to arrive in Portland by the Union Pacific line from the east, will be found charming. It is 88 miles distant. Multnomah Falls is reached in 32 miles, Bonneville 41 miles, at the foot of the Cascades. miles farther is the stupendous government lock now in process of building around the rapids. Hood River 66 miles retours the sleeve for the ascent of Mount Hood. It is about 40 miles through a picturesque region to the base of the mountain. Then from Hood River, an ice cold stream, 22 miles into the dals, where the steamer may be taken for the return trip. In this 88 miles from Portland to the dals, there are 12 miles of trussles and bridges. The railway follows the Columbia's bring the entire distance to within a few miles of the city. The scenery is impressively grand. The bluffs, if they may be so called, are bold, attaining majestic heights. One timbershoot where the logs come whizzing into the river

with the velocity of the cannonball is 3,328 feet long

and it is claimed a log makes the trip in 20 seconds. you