The other day I was up in Snoqualmie Ridge getting my daughter some new bedroom furniture. I'd never been up there before, but it was one of the three cities I'd thought of moving to. I liked the name and the way it backed up against the mountains.
I'd never really figured out where it was. I knew it was *waving* over there somewhere, out between Issaquah and North Bend. Turns out it was where hwy 18 crosses I-90. And I'd always wondered why there was such a big intersection in the middle of absolutely nothing. Turns out Snoqualmie Ridge is three blocks north. Not that they're real blocks. Not yet. More like "planned blocks".
If the economy hadn't tanked it would be a pretty cool place to live. All clean and horribly upscale. Not that I could figure out why such a hoity-toity place would be integrating brand-new, but crummy apartments and townhouses, unless they wanted to imitate real life.
So my kid says, "hey mom? Didn't you want to see Snoqualmie Falls?" Because I'd heard they were pretty spectacular and from the real close-up mountains, fairly close. So I looked up at this towering range and said, "Sure. How far away are they?" And he says, "Not far, maybe another ten minutes."
And I took another look at the mountains and thought, must be a scenic parkway or something.
After we load the vanity, my kid takes a quick run down the main drag, turns at the rusted out rail car (I mean...antique display) and stops in the parking lot of this hotel.
Turns out Snoqualmie Ridge is a "ridge" (I know, it amazed me, too) and the falls fall off the ridge. It's a hydro electric plant (of some sort), the lodge is run by the power company and the "park" is what's known elsewhere as a wayside. There were five picnic tables, a big gift shop, restrooms and a look out platform perched on the edge of a sheer drop.
Nice falls. Really really high up, super steep, long drop. Not much of a fence, despite what my kid told me. I took one step out on the observation deck, spray blowing everywhere, people in sweatshirts (me included) leaning out over the precipice (uh, I didn't do that, but I was wearing a sweatshirt)
I told my kid, "Get a picture. I'll stand right here."
I get vertigo, just the idea of standing out near a sheer drop is enough to make me puke. My kid kept saying, "take a step back so I can get the falls." And I kept shouting (over the falls), "I don't think so. I'm fine where I am."
You can't see it, but those cracks in the concrete platform made me real nervous.