Rolling Mountains, Horizons

Northeastern Washington doesn’t have famous mountains, but it’s far from flat. I spent a peaceful night last month in the Kettle River Range, a wooded crest that parallels the Columbia as it flows south from Canada. The Kettles aren’t terribly high by western standards, but they rise up a respectable vertical mile or so from surrounding valleys. All this region was under ice sheet in the Pleistocene, so the topography is more rounded than jagged, and most everything is wooded. The scenery is bucolic, not epic, but views of endlessly receding ridges never get old. It was calm and quiet up there, and that included wildlife. About the only critter I saw, apart from one lone gray jay (yeah, yeah, “Canada jay,” I know, just can’t bring myself to like that change) was this obliging grouse. I’m pretty sure it’s a dusky grouse, I think the Kettles are just a little too far east for sooties, but I’m open to correction. Always a pleasure to spend an evening up high: And it’s always nice when…