It was almost ten o'clock at night. Pacific time. While most of the Oregon crew (at least fifteen of 'em) were drinking beer in room 22, listening to their greyhairs talk to our greyhair, and most of our crew were in their rooms either sleeping, talking to loved ones back home, or checking emails...

I was out walking in the dark. In the cold, damp freezing rain.

Taking pictures.

Of the Highway 97 bridge over the Columbia River.

My original plan was to walk up to mid-bridge. To at least step foot into Washington state. But there's no pedestrian walkway on that bridge, just slightly wide curbs. And everything was covered with glistening ice, making even the street crossing a camera-clutching experience.

No, just a peek at Washington would have to do.