BROKEBACK ISLAND

it's true, that things have been getting pretty gay around around here, but that's how things have been getting around portland, and we've just followed suit.

to mark the beginning of summer, which finally got around to making an appearance on july 29, we took a river trip, and being careful to stay on trend (after thursday night's enrampagement we acknowledged that it would be good for us to mingle), we decided to try our luck at rooster rock state park on the columbia, the east end of which is synonymous with summertime portland faggotry.

the beaches at the east end of the park are about a half mile from the clothing optional signs at the east edge of the parking lot at the entrance to the park (where we warned the woman who stopped us that we might tell the state that she was charging people to get in). none of us having been to the park before, we'd no visual cues for when to turn off the east-west trail from the parking lot and go north toward the river and ended up slogging through the mud that the clothing optional men we met along the trail told us we could avoid if we went one or another way.

luckily, we found a dry patch of sand in the sun by the edge of the river without having to search for too long. the late middle aged clothing optional man sitting in a lawn chair on a rise just above where we laid down our blankets told us that there's usually more beach. the wide and rolling dunes at the aptly named sand island -- which is separated from the oregon side of the river by about a quarter mile of water -- were in full sun, but they seemed only accessible by boat when we decided to settle on our spot.

our group was mixed and included some first encounters, so we didn't get completely clo-op ourselves (use it: on trend), but there was a regular stream of unclothed guys (we wouldn't see a naked woman until we were leaving) walking near the water, cruising for a spot of their own.

oh, hey, tranny -- but for realsies. her name is alex, and we were introduced to her at least once before by sebastian, who has since the inception of our friendship come to himself by that same way. one of our group mentioned after alex's had passed that alex had been a part of the organizing force behind the big gay warehouse in san francisco. but apparently no longer -- and no surprise: a hundred make out rooms wouldn't have gotten us on that shuttle to south san francisco for the warehouse pride party with no guarantee of safe or easy passage back to the city.

get to the point already! is what we were all thinking when it was proposed that maybe i could make it to sand island if i weren't swimming alone. and, sure enough what had escaped me the other three times i'd gotten into the water came to easy yet wholly unexpected (but definitely hoped for) fruition with a companion. the view of the gorge from the other side of the island was worth the adventure, and the water in the shallow pools just off the beach was much warmer than at where we'd laid our blankets.

my girlfriend knew the score when i swam back to where she was waiting with the group. the return was significantly more difficult than the swim out, and not just for the energy we'd expended since setting out, but for having to swim against the current as we recrossed the eddies in the center of the water between the blankets and the island, the renaming of which we were notified immediately after our return. damn it, oregon. why can't i quit you.