The snarl of canyons that compose the northeast corner of Oregon appears from space like a leavings of a trimmed fir tree, one raised for Christmas. Of course the snarl makes ultimate sense as all the waterways that carved it make it tot he Columbia River, most of them by way of the Snake. Almost certainly – or until proven otherwise – this scene is part of all that, but which part I have not determined. We will soon come upon the 500th Sykes and that, I think, will be it. Upon review I suspect that I will find at least one occasion on which I have repeated one of Horace’s slides – and this scene might be an example of that.