So Spake Mo…
Before an expanse of metal filament spanned the waters of the Columbia from her Oregon to her Washington shores, an ancient landslide served the First Peoples as a bridge from one side of the awesome gorge to the other.
 
Decade after decade the Columbia strained against this entrapment, slowly wearing away at the underbelly of The Great Crossover. The tribes of the First People knew it was fragile. They had their rules for its use to protect the many against its inevitable fall.
 
And many were the stories of its origins. In one story, it was the body of the defeated tyrant, Thunderbird, from the days of the animal people. In another, it was the gift of the Great Spirit for the people to ease their difficulty in crossing the great river. In yet another, it was offered as a peaceful point of connection between two quarreling brother chiefs and their tribes.

So Spake Mo…
Read enough legends and motifs begin to emerge: the lakes, the rivers, and seas, dangerous mysteries lie beneath those glittering depths, sacred secrets that can reveal the true nature of your very soul.
 
Take for example a young orphan boy taken in by the chief of a tribe of Blackfeet, a tribe that once roamed Alyse’s Montana home. This young orphan boy stood on the cusp of manhood, eager to take his place among the heroes of his people. He begged of his grandfather to tell him how make this crossing, how to bring greatness to his tribe.
 
Grudgingly, the chief shared with him an ancient legend. At the bottom of a lake, he said there were powerful spirits which kept the ponokamita, the elk dogs. Any warrior who could find a way to win these elk dogs would surely be remembered among his people.  How it would ease their burden to have these beautiful beasts to help carry their possessions, to aid them in the buffalo hunt!