The Merlin’s a fast plane, a blessing because it means we’ll be back on the ground all that much sooner. Within minutes after dust-off, we’re at eighteen hundred meters and cruising south. The demarcation where the sprawl ends and the Salish-Shidhe nation begins is obvious, even though we’re too high to see the walls and fences and guard posts. On one side of the demarcator there’s city; on the other, countryside. It’s like God took a hand razor and sculpted a sharp edge along the urban area that would otherwise be spreading south toward Portland.