The Scenic Route

I decided to take the scenic route back into Portland, taking me all the way around Mt Hood. I hoped back on 26 and took it up to 395. There in valley behind the mountain I found the most unlikely of places. There were expansive orchards of peaches, apples and pears, along with a few vineyards thrown in for good measure.

395 snaked its way north running into the Columbia River and joining up with 84.  I took this around until it met up with historic 30. Now unbeknownst to me today was some kind of “Ride Oregon” event taking place, with some 2000 cyclists on the very same road I had decided to take and explore. The road itself was a dinky two lane highway hardly big enough for two cars, and completely lacking a shoulder. I repeatedly had to creep up on the cyclist and pass them weaving in and out of the other lane and in between the bikers. It was a very nerve racking experience.

It all was well worth it, because the treasures this road held were innumerable. The mountain side was strewn with all sorts of waterfalls, each one even more magnificent then the next.

It had gotten to the point were I figured it best to take break, after a hard hike and all the passing cyclist. I pulled off to the side of the road and walked over to a seemingly empty bridge. As I peered over the side into a crevasse that lined a stream bed I took notice to an enormous log jam at the end of it. Something like this required closer inspection. I slid down the side and made my way over.

When I got down there I met 3 other hikers and two very distinct people. The hikers were a set of girls and younger man, maybe a few years older then me. The two distinct people was a man named Ted, who resembled Ron Howard’s brother, and an elderly woman named Susanne. Now I am not certain what there relationship was to each other, but they struck me a bit odd at first.

Ted was of the ambitious fisherman of sorts and was forging up the log jam in an unsafe fashion with the hikers. I to followed suit to see what was so important beyond this mighty stack. As I climbed over with them I asked what it was that could be so worth almost braking your neck climbing across slippery logs. The hiker told me of an untouched waterfall that lay in the very back of this canyon. Very few people know of its existence and have seen it. He then warned me that if I wanted to see it, I would have to wade through waist high mountain water.

Now the thought of seeing a site only the locals knew about peeked my curiosity, but then the idea of charging through waist high water put an end to that curiosity real quick. I then turned and started back. This information barely even fazed Ted and he yelled out “when in Rome!” and started off full blast marching through the water with out even taking his boots off. He then turned around and yelled back at me “You can’t miss this one!” I thought perhaps he was right, and was stuck contemplating the idea of stripping down to see this thing as I walked back to my car.

On my way I was stopped by Susanne as she wanted to chat about the area. She seemed to know a great deal about it, and had an unparalleled knowledge for all things Louis and Clark. I guess we chatted for quite some time because before I knew it Ted had made his way back. He was half soaked from his waist down, and you could here his boots squeaking out water as he approached. He yelled to me “you got to go see it, you got to, its one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my life! Buddy if your only going to be here once then you have to see it!”

I tried to shrug this off by saying I only had one pair of shoes and didn’t want to get them wet. He merrily came back stronger “ you got to see this, just take your shoes and socks off! You wearing underwear?” I was confused by that last comment, but firmly answered with a “Yes!” He then said “well strip down to your underwear and go in the water, don’t worry, no one will see once the other three leave. You have to do it!”

All of the sudden Ted was making sense to me and I decided what the hell I’ll go do it, and off I went back to climb over the log jam. Right when I got to a point where I was going to start and disrobe I herd a voice, “wait for me! I’m coming back with you!”
I was terrible concerned by this. Of course only the worst things come to mind first about being stuck alone with a man who’s a larger then you and seemingly a bit mentally impaired, back in a canyon that nobody knows about, wile your pants are down! I quickly pulled them up and decided to just go barefoot and roll my jeans as high as they would go. .

Taking off my shoes and rolling back my socks revealed a horrid site. My once blister filled feet were now blister and sore ridden feet. My socks were now covered in blood from my ever rubbing and improper footwear for hiking shoes! This made me think twice before sticking my feet in the water, I could do with out a trip to the hospital because of infectious feet, but Ted was all gung-ho and was charging on ahead of me.

Now Ted had said that the rocks I was walking on were river rocks, and that meant they were mostly smooth, but Ted didn’t have blisters all over his feet, and it made for traversing the rocks quite difficult. I cringed as I stepped from one rock to the next. It wasn’t until I was able to plunge my feet into the cold mountain stream that I was able to find some relief. Ah the cold glacial water did a wonderful job of numbing my ailing feet.

As we got closer to the deepest part of our crossing Ted instructed me to take all my valuables that weren’t water proof out of my pockets “Your going to get wet and if you don’t step right your going to loose a nut!” Ah his warning came just in time because trying to move my numb feet around on the rocks caused me to misstep and my boys went swimming. I was able to re-catch my balance and right myself, but I was up to my waist in Ice cold water.

Then a few more steps and I was free staring up at a magnificent 200 foot waterfall. I was impressed by it, but I could have done without getting wet to see it. On our way back Ted did a bit of opening up to me, and telling me about his life and his motorcycle accident that messed him up. He told me about Susanne and how she new all about the things to see in the area. On our way out, he offered to ride with me so he could direct me back to Portland. I was uneasy with this idea, mostly because he was soaking wet, and I would have to shuffle things about in my car to make room for him. We talked for a bit more and he told me I was saying Oregon wrong, I was saying it like a tourist, its pronounced OregEn! The he wrote His number and Susanne’s number on a piece of paper, and handed it to me, saying “If you get into trouble in Oregon, well come bail you out, it’s the least we can do for a tourist of our fine state!” I took the piece of paper and gave him my deepest thanks but assured him I probably wouldn’t need to use it. It was indeed a mighty gesture.