Remembering Sarah Bishop

June 26, 2026June 28, 2026 / Tom Kloster / 6 Comments

Morning sunbeams catching the mist at Ramona Falls

August was hot and dry in Oregon in 2014, and we were on the way to the hottest summer on record at the time. The combined heat and drought led to a predictable wave of wildfires that year, with a full 31 days of Level 5 fire conditions that surpassed all previous records by a full week.

No wonder, then, that Portlanders flocked to the mountains seeking cool respite from the heat. Among the most popular escapes was Ramona Falls, among the most visited waterfalls in Oregon and located just inside the Mount Hood Wilderness. The lacy, intricate beauty that makes the falls famous to photographers also creates a unique microclimate, cooling the air at the shady base of the falls by 15 degrees or more. On busy summer days, hundreds hike the rambling 7-mile loop trail and bask in the cooling mist and absorb the beauty of this idyllic, family-friendly place.

With its gentle grade and abundant scenery, the Ramona Falls loop has been a favorite family hike in the Mount Hood Wilderness for generations

Such was the scene that year on Tuesday, August 12. Hordes of hikers had set off from the crowded trailhead that day, only to be surprised by a sudden, intense thunderstorm that gathered over Mount Hood. As they returned to the seasonal footbridge over the Sandy River, just a mile from the trailhead, they discovered a suddenly raging torrent nearly touching the bridge.

Scores were able to cross the bridge safely, but hikers Nathan Johnson and Brent Ludwig met tragedy that day. They were taking up the rear with their group and still on the bridge when a flood surge dislodged a logjam just upstream, unleashing a sudden wave 5-8 feet deep that overtook the bridge. Both men were swept into the river. Johnson somehow survived the ordeal, but Ludwig perished in the torrent.

Brent Ludwig had come to Oregon on a visit from his hometown of New Lenox, Illinois, but he would not return. His body was later recovered by searchers more than a mile downstream.

The Forest Service had just installed this seasonal bridge over the Sandy River on the Ramona Falls trail in 2013. One year later it would wash out in the tragic incident that took the life of Brent Ludwig. It has not been replaced since

Witnesses described a chaotic scene after the bridge washed out, with rescue workers ferrying hikers stranded on the north side of a raging Sandy River for several hours using a pair of tethered rafts. In all, 23 hikers were rescued that day. Meanwhile, other rescuers searched the river banks below for victims, eventually locating Ludwig.

The 2014 rescue was hampered by the relative remoteness of the washed-out bridge. Hikers who had made it across before the wash-out still had to walk another mile back to the trailhead, then drive several miles toward Highway 26 to reach the nearest cell coverage and report the dire situation.

Hikers chose this precarious log to cross the Sandy River on the Ramona Falls trail in 2022… (TKO)

…and though it was the best available crossing, it was extremely dangerous, with hikers balancing ten feet above rushing glacial runoff and the large boulders that flank the stream (TKO)

Soon after the 2014 incident, the estate of Brent Ludwig filed suit against the Forest Service seeking damages for negligence. After many years in the courts, the case was finally decided in favor of the Forest Service in October 2021. In the meantime, the seasonal bridge on this heavily traveled trail had not been replaced, with the Forest Service pointing to the pending litigation as cause to simply leave Ramona Falls visitors to their own devices in crossing the Sandy River.

Though the court case is long settled, the Sandy River crossing still has no bridge, putting the thousands of hikers who head into the Mount Hood Wilderness for Ramona Falls each year needlessly at risk.

Though understandable, hikers often add makeshift rigging to log crossings, intending to improve safety – though trusting these rickety solutions can be riskier than the logs themselves. This rigged handline was later removed by volunteer trail crews in July 2024 at the request of the Forest Service (TKO)

The otherwise family-friendly Ramona Falls trail puts hundreds of kids at risk each year when they must contend with the Sandy River crossing (Matt Bromley)

Hikers in March of this year searching for a Sandy River crossing on the Ramona Falls trail. Each winter the river reshapes the channel and shifts log piles (Matt Bromley)

Other Forest Service explanations for continuing to leave this heavily traveled crossing bridgeless have included legal restrictions from its wilderness status and the idea that leaving the crossing in its current state will somehow self-manage the overcrowding that exists on this popular trail. Still another argument is that danger involved in making the crossing is somehow part of the “wilderness experience”.

None of these arguments holds up. First, the Wilderness Act clearly allows federal lands agencies wide discretion to construct footbridges where needed to “protect the health and safety of persons within the area”. There are many examples to point to, but most obvious are the two wilderness bridges over Ramona Creek, itself, on this very hiking loop. Both are modest stream crossings that present exponentially less risk to public health and safety than the Sandy River crossing.

This impressive new bridge over Ramona Creek was built inside the Mount Hood Wilderness boundary in 2012, just a half-mile beyond the bridgeless Sandy River crossing

Predictably, the lack of a safe crossing at the Sandy River since the 2014 incident has also done little to deter hikers from showing up here. Instead, the crowds have grown, thanks to both social media, the growing popularity of hiking and of the spectacle of Ramona Falls, itself. There are many proven tools for managing crowded trails in our wilderness areas. Making the experience more dangerous should not be among them, nor should forcing visitors to take undue risks be considered part of the “wilderness experience”.

Impromptu Sandy River crossing installed by hikers, as seen in early June 2026… (Kevin Lu)

….this effort involved lashing two thin poles together (Kevin Lu)

As it proved in 2014, the Sandy River can be unruly – like all of Mount Hood’s glacial runoff streams. They are prone to flash floods year-round and have become even more erratic as the mountain’s glaciers and winter snowpack recede with global climate change. This means a nearly constant re-arranging of the river channels each year, with hikers searching for fallen logs to inch their way across the streams where trails cross them.

While challenging for any hiker, it’s an unacceptable situation at the Sandy River crossing on the Ramona Falls trail, where young children, less able-bodied or experienced hikers and small pets make up such a large share of the visitors.

It’s long overdue to fix this crossing.

Ten Years Earlier…

The summer of 2004 was much different than 2014 would turn out to be for Oregon. The west side of the state experienced unseasonably cool, wet weather, with rare summer snows on Mount Hood as low as 6,000 feet. The last week of August that year was especially stormy, with the west slopes of the mountain receiving as much as 10 inches of rain from August 21-25. This, at a time of year when thousands of hikers from around the world come to Mount Hood to experience the iconic 42-mile Timberline Trail.

One of these hikers was Portlander Sarah Nicole Bishop, a 27-year-old backpacker who had started her clockwise trip around the mountain at the Ramona Falls trailhead. Sarah set off across the Sandy River footbridge and past Ramona Falls on the first day of a planned 4-day loop around the mountain. She was a seasoned backpacker and well-prepared for adverse conditions.

Sarah (center) and friends in 2004

By all accounts, Sarah Bishop was a force of nature just beginning to make her mark in the world. In her young life, she had worked at youth camps, been a residential counselor, social work case manager and had served as a crisis intervention specialist with Harry’s Mother, a Portland youth shelter.

She was politically active, creating and managing 100 Percent Portland, a democracy project to promote voter registration and civic duty. Sarah was outspoken for workers’ rights and an active member of the International Workers of the World (commonly known as ‘Wobblies.’) Her future was very bright.

On the fourth and final day of her wet circuit around the mountain, Sarah passed Timberline Lodge, stopping for hot chocolate. before pushing ahead to the Zigzag River crossing, climbing to Paradise Park. From there, she had only the steep descent to the Sandy River and two river crossings before reaching her starting point at the Ramona Falls trailhead. Sarah had safely managed several crossings over rain-swollen glacial streams on her circuit, and hikers who encountered her as she made her way back to the Ramona Falls trailhead reported that she was in good spirits and enjoying her hike.

Read moving reflections here from all four hikers who encountered Sarah on August 26, 2004

Sarah had started her hike on Saturday afternoon, August 21, crossing the Ramona Falls footbridge over the Sandy River when conditions were still dry. By that night, the weather changed and the Sandy River had flooded its banks and washed out the bridge. Worse, by the time she was returning to the trailhead on that final day of her hike, she would also have to contend with the bridgeless upper crossing of the Sandy River along the Timberline Trail. It was here that Sarah’s life was cut tragically short.

The Sandy River channel is wide and ever-changing. Much of the river is lined with steep bluffs where the stream has continually flooded and undercut its banks. This view is near the junction of the Pacific Crest and Ramona Falls trails (Bruce Bishop)

When Sarah did not return from her hike as scheduled on Tuesday, August 24, her family became concerned, but they were informed that a search and rescue could not be authorized until it was verified that Sarah was on the mountain. That kicked off a search for her truck the next day by her father Bruce and Sarah’s partner Joseph at the most likely trailheads, beginning at Cloud Cap and working clockwise. It was raining and dark when they finally found Sarah’s car at the Ramona Falls trailhead at 10 PM that evening – the last vehicle in the lot. They reported her missing to the Clackamas County Sheriff that night.

The formal search and rescue effort began the next morning on Thursday, August 26, with teams searching the 12-mile section of the Timberline Trail between the Ramona Falls trailhead and Timberline Lodge where Sarah was last seen. At around 2 PM that afternoon Sarah’s body was found along the Sandy River, about a half-mile below the upper crossing on the Timberline Trail, and just three miles from her truck.

This view shows the high, unstable bluffs below the Timberline Trail ford where Sarah may have fallen while scouting for a safe crossing (Bruce Bishop)

Sarah still had the waistbelt on her pack buckled and her boots on when searchers found her, so her family believes she had been scouting for a spot to cross the unseasonably high Sandy River. While searching for a place to cross, she may have slipped into the river from the steep bluffs that line this section of the stream, possibly becoming injured in the fall.

If you have hiked into the Mount Hood Wilderness in the decades since, you likely know Sarah’s story from the work her family has done to honor her memory and to educate hikers on the dangers of glacial stream crossings. Near each of five wilderness trailheads — Ramona Falls, Top Spur, Cloud Cap, White River and Timberline West – Sarah’s story is shared on interpretive trail signs that warn of the danger and provide tips for safe stream fords.

An early snowstorm greeted volunteers installing the sign west of Timberline Lodge on September 29, 2007 (Bruce Bishop)

Volunteers installing the Top Spur sign on August 1, 2008 (Bruce Bishop)

Sign installation near the White River wilderness boundary on September 27, 2009 (Bruce Bishop)

Sarah’s family worked with the Forest Service to design, build and install these signs, though they were completely privately funded. All five signs are still in place today. Sarah’s family and friends regularly visit and maintain each sign, an effort that continues to be privately funded as a labor of love by those who loved Sarah.

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The seasonal Sandy River bridge on the Ramona Falls Trail was replaced by the Forest Service after Sarah died in 2004, and was installed each summer until the 2014 bridge tragedy. Sarah’s family and friends crossed the bridge in 2005 and hiked another two miles upstream to the spot where Sarah was found to celebrate her memory. Sarah’s parents, Bruce and Judy Bishop, were joined by her 83-year-old grandmother and more than two dozen others on that memorable day. The yellow caps in the photos that follow were made for the occasion, and read “Remembering Sarah Bishop”.

Sarah’s family and friends gathered on August 27, 2005 to hike a section of the Ramona Falls loop in remembrance of her life (Bruce Bishop)

The 2005 remembrance hike ended at the upper Sandy River crossing where Sarah had lost her life the year before. Soon after, Bruce and Judy Bishop resolved to pay tribute to Sarah’s memory in service to other hikers (Bruce Bishop)

Over the next two years, Bruce and Judy worked to gain approval of the plan, and by the summer of 2009 all five signs had been installed by Sarah’s family and friends, with Forest Service staff support on hand.

Ramona Falls Loop sign (Bruce Bishop)

Sadly, many of those who gave tribute to Sarah on that memorable day in 2005 would not be able to repeat the trip today. The bridgeless Sandy River crossing on the Ramona Falls trail is an untenable barrier for so many. While it’s a frustration for many who would simply like to visit the falls, it’s a more profound disappointment to those who would pay tribute to Sarah’s memory near the place where she died.

It’s time to fix this crossing.

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Last winter, I had the privilege of meeting Bruce and learning Sarah’s story. We’ve since met several times to figure out how to get the Forest Service unstuck on this long-overdue need at Ramona Falls – and at other increasingly dangerous glacial stream crossings around the mountain. The following is a Q&A with Bruce on the subject:

WyEast: Bruce, when you picture the bridge finally being restored at the Ramona Falls trailhead, what would that mean to you? Who are the folks that come to mind that you’d like to see walking over it, once again?

Bruce: Our family first hiked to Ramona Falls with church families, probably in 1984 when Sarah was 7 years old. Over 20 years later, our memorial hike included a group with a wide range of ages and abilities. Such groups today can’t visit Ramona Falls safely. While the hike to the river is enjoyable, continuing to the falls makes the hike spectacular. I’d like families with young children and elderly great grandparents like us to be able to see Ramona Falls.

WyEast: By all accounts, Sarah was a force of nature, and loved being in nature. Wilderness trails seem to be where she recharged and found the energy to have an impact in her daily life. Can you tell us more about what it meant to her to be out in nature?

Bruce: In her youth, Sarah went to church camp every summer outside Molalla and became a camp staffer and director there through college. She hiked around Mt. Rainier with a group of incoming students for her orientation to college. It rained, and she was the only one to have packed rain gear for the hike. After college, she hiked extensively in the Gorge and on Mount Hood. And in early August 2004, she and a friend hiked to the top of Pilot Rock in the Rogue River Valley. A photo from that predawn hike was used for the woodcut in the poster below.

Bruce and Judy Bishop have worked for 22 years to honor Sarah’s life and make something good from the tragedy of her death

WyEast: In 2005 you led your family and many of Sarah’s friends on a remembrance hike to the spot where she was found. How did that day lead to the wilderness sign project?

Bruce: Many of those at the memorial hike in 2005 spent that weekend at our church camp, a place that Sarah loved. We caravanned from the camp to the Ramona Falls trailhead for the group hike, passing the studio for Mt. Hood ceramists Dave and Suzanne Enna. After the hike, we stopped at their studio sale, and several family members purchased pieces of Enna art. As a youth, Dave had attended our church in downtown Portland and created the communion ware for the church, as well as Sarah’s urn.

Following the memorial hike and inspired by Dave Enna’s ceramics, Judy and I agreed that signs promoting hiker safety would be a fitting memorial for Sarah, and we contacted Forest Service staff to turn the idea into reality.

WyEast: We’ve talked about the Ramona Falls trail being special because of both its beauty, but also its accessibility to the average person – not just avid hikers. Is that part of your motivation for finally getting the Sandy River crossing fixed? Is it something Sarah would have been passionate about?

Bruce: Sarah had a diverse array of “passions.” Her friends who inscribed her memorial poster described her well when they wrote, “[She] was a dedicated member of the IWW and one of the key organizers for the first Wobbly shop in Portland, Harry’s Mother. She was instrumental in the birth of the Red and Black Cafe, a worker run collective. In her work she strove to empower people across class and race lines, believing in universal access to nature’s beauty and full engagement in direct democracy. She deeply affected people with her authentic, creative, revolutionary spirit. Sarah was a pirate and a princess and she ran a circus.”

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So, how would this happen? If the question is to simply restore the seasonal Sandy River footbridge on the Ramona Falls trail, that’s very easy. The Forest Service simply needs to say yes. It really is that simple, and it’s long overdue.

In reality, it won’t be that simple. Yet, I’m confident that Bruce and Judy Bishop, and all who loved Sarah, will keep at this and persuade the Forest Service to finally do what’s right for the many people who come to the Mount Hood Wilderness to spend a day in nature and marvel at the beauty of Ramona Falls. I like their odds, as they have Sarah’s memory on their side.

The seasonal Sandy River footbridge at the Ramona Falls trailhead on August 20, 2004. Sarah would cross this bridge on the first day of her hike around the mountain. The next morning, it was gone in the stormwaters that also took Sarah’s life.

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Postscript

After my first meeting with Bruce last year, I dug into my photo archives and folders to prepare this article. I remembered seeing the new trailhead signs for the first time at the Top Spur trailhead, and discovered I had taken photos of the new sign back in September 2008 — including this detailed view of Sarah:

Each of the trailhead signs include Sarah’s image and memory as a reminder of the real dangers that crossing glacial streams present

At the time, I remember being pleasantly surprised that the Forest Service had even agreed to the signs being posted – no small task! I also remembered the tragic incident, and after searching through my archives, I found I had saved this Oregonian article back in 2004 in a folder dedicated to the stream crossing situation on Mount Hood. Clearly, the problem is not new, though it has certainly worsened in the intervening years.

As I looked back into my photo archives, I was startled to discover that I had walked the Sandy River and Paradise Park sections of the Timberline Trail the same week Sarah had. These photos of the Sandy River from the Ramona Falls trail are from August 20, 2004, the day before Sarah would walk this trail to begin her hike:

The ravaged Sandy River floodway along the Ramona Falls trail on August 20, 2004. The next day, the river would swell once again from the storm that took Sarah Bishop’s life

Hikers crossing the Sandy River bridge to Ramona Falls on August 20, 2004. Sarah Bishop would cross this bridge the following day to begin her 4-day trip. Within a day of her crossing, the bridge would wash out in the storm that took Sarah’s life

One week later, I would hike the Timberline Trail west from Timberline Lodge to Paradise Park, the section where Sarah was last seen just days prior. My motivation for going there on that day was scenery. There had been a break in the weather, with fresh snow on the mountain from the same storm that had made Sarah’s trip so tragic. These are scenes from Paradise Park on that day, August 28, 2004:

The powerful storm that swept over Mount Hood while Sarah Bishop hiked the Timberline Trail cleared abruptly, leaving a rare dusting of August snow on the mountain. This scene was captured at Paradise Park on August 28, 2004, just four days after Sarah hiked through

Looking down the Sandy River canyon from Paradise Park toward the Timberline Trail crossing and Ramona Falls area, far below, on August 28, 2004

Though I was likely thinking of Sarah on this second trip — as I had archived the news coverage account the day before — rediscovering these photos and meeting her father after 22 years made Sarah’s story all the more real and impactful. The real gift in writing this article has been getting to know Bruce. Through his eyes and memories, I can begin to appreciate the amazing, inspired person behind that familiar face on the trailhead signs, and why she lives on so vividly in the hearts of so many.

Sarah Bishop hiking at Pilot Rock, Oregon in August 2004, just a few days before her tragic death on Mount Hood

Sarah’s tragedy raises the larger question about the many other dangerous glacial outflow crossings on the mountain today. While her death might not have been preventable, the lack of safe crossings on the Timberline Trail today remains unacceptable. Watch for a follow-up article with a modest proposal to finally move forward on this front.

Remembering Sarah…

In the meantime, we can all take lessons to live by from Sarah Bishop: connect with the world around us, take the time to care and make the time to act on our convictions. Be brave and step up to uncomfortable challenges. Reach out and help. Make a difference where we can.

Sarah continues to inspire those who knew and loved her because of that undefeatable spirit. We should thank her for that – and remember her.

(updated June 28 to expand details of the search for Sarah in August 2004)

_________________

Tom Kloster | June 2026

Burdoin Fire: Catherine Creek Surprises!

June 12, 2026 / Tom Kloster / 7 Comments

The Catherine Creek savannah already turning to summer hues in early May of this year

As a follow-up to the previous three-part series on the aftermath of the Burdoin Fire (links to all recent articles on the fires at Catherine Creek are at the bottom of this article), I stopped by West Catherine Creek in early May to check on the recovery, just ten months after the fire swept through last July. The fire burned especially hot here, and less than a year after the 2024 Top of the World Fire had roared through. Things looks especially bleak for the keystone Oregon white oak and Ponderosa pine when I last visited in December.

Here’s the good news: given the back-to-back pummeling this area has endured, the resilience on display on this visit is both surprising and inspiring. Yes, there’s likely a long, hot summer ahead for the survivors, but what I saw last month bodes well for the larger recovery of the larger Catherine Creek savannah. Read on for a deeper dive!

The Bulldozer Road

In this earlier article I lamented a new fire lane that had bulldozed the upper portion of the Bitterroot Trail, destroying one of the better informal paths in the Gorge and worsening erosion of already fragile savannah soils in the aftermath of the fire. After posting the previous article, I also learned that the rough state of the fire lane on my last visit was, in fact, the “restored” surface, with no Forest Service plans to further mitigate the impacts.

The good news: I’ve since learned that the general routing of the fire lane was made on the fly, literally in the heat of the Burdoin Fire event. It was not an intentional effort to erase the Bitterroot Trail. Still more encouraging, there’s a real possibility the Forest Service might someday recognize this popular trail as part of the formal system, thus opening the door to non-profits partnering with the agency to retore the tread and improve it to sustainable design standards.

Hikers have already begun to redefine a single path through the bulldozed fire lane that used to be the upper Bitterroot trail

In the meantime, I was reminded on my most recent visit to never underestimate the power of hikers who love their trails. In the five months since my winter visit, hikers had clearly voted with their feet (and boots) on their preferred option among the two ruts left by the bulldozers, thereby beginning an informal restoration of the Bitterroot Trail.

In most cases, the less popular ruts have already begun to grow over with savannah grasses, and even a few wildflowers. In some of these sections the less-favored ruts have been rejected because of deep erosion leaving them a cobbly, ankle-twisting mess. Messy as they are, these scars, too, will stabilize over time with the recovery of the meadow ecosystem.

In this section of the fire lane the verdict is split, though on most of the route hikers are picking the uphill (left) track

This spot on the old Bitterroot trail was always messy, and the bulldozers made it much worse. Ironically, that was the impetus for hikers to completely circumvent the rocky old route with this surprisingly well-placed path, uphill from the old route

There are still a few spots where a preferred hiker path has yet to emerge, mostly near the upper end of the trail, where the fire lane is quite wide. However, it was also clear that I wasn’t the only hiker kicking rocks off the emerging, hiker-defined tread in an effort to help the Bitterroot Trail once again offer the experience it provided before the Burdoin Fire.

At the upper end of the old Bitterroot Trail the erosion from uncontrolled runoff in the lower track is discouraging, but it has also pushed hikers onto the upper track (on the right), redefining the trail here. Over time, returning savannah grasses and wildflowers should eventually stabilize the eroded track on the left

Then-and-now photos (below) of a spot featured in previous articles on West Catherine Creek show meadow grasses quickly moving into what was a bulldozed mess at this scenic spot along the Bitterroot Trail. It will take more time to completely heal, but it’s encouraging to see the recovery taking hold so quickly, in just the first spring since the fire.

The impact of the bulldozer on the burned landscape was bleak when these hikers struggled through last December…

…but spring rains have begun to heal the scars and hikers have begun to restore the footpath with the power of hundreds of determined hiking boots

The Savannah Wildflowers

Wildflowers have surged back to live across the West Catherine Creek savannah in this first spring since the fire. Species that grow from bulbs or rhizomes were especially well-prepared to survive the burn, and seemed mostly unaffected, though wildflowers with less underground reserve are also bouncing back.

While the speed of the wildflower recovery is welcome, it shouldn’t be completely surprising, even with back-to-back fires. Most of these species are not only built for fire, but rely upon it to thrive. This relationship has been on full display after other recent fires in the East Gorge, most notably the massive Substation Fire that burned 80,000 acres along the lower Deschutes River canyon in 2018. There, the ecosystem rebound has been explosive, and provides a helpful preview of what to expect in the years ahead for the Burdoin Fire – provided the area is given time to fully recover.

Who are the stars of the wildflower recovery? The following is a sampler of the most prolific of the late season wildflowers rebounding at the heart of the burn scar….

Camas is thriving at the ponds, notable because they are vernal ponds, and had gone dry for the summer at the time of the Burdoin Fire, leaving the soil here exposed to the full brunt of the fire

Death Camas is also at the ponds, like its less deadly cousin

Wild Onion is thriving along the west Catherine Creek Rim, thanks to its tiny onion bulbs that were protected from the fire by several inches of soil

Paintbrush (and Balsamroot, beyond) are thriving above Rowland Wall, but mostly along the cooler margins of the burn. They will be important to reseeding nearby, more severely burned areas

Ookow dotted the savannah, but are most prolific along the west Catherine Creek Rim where the fire was somewhat less intense

Bitterroot is thriving along the west Catherine Creek Rim and the exposed areas of the Rowland Wall. These unique plants are known for their disappearing act in summer, and had already shed their blooms and foliage before the Burdoin Fire last July. Their tough taproots and brief growth cycle in late winter through spring make these iconic wildflowers especially adapted to fire

If the resiliency of spring wildflowers weren’t enough to inspire optimism, I came across this unexpected resident (below) high in the savannah meadows, along the upper section of the Bitterroot trail. Not much larger than a nickel, this treefrog was sheltering in the shade of a tuft of meadow grass.

…and an unexpected treefrog high in the savannah meadows!

Though it’s surprising that they can thrive in the desert country east of the Cascades, treefrogs adapt by sheltering in burrows in the heat of summer. This likely helped some of these creatures survive the fire last year, living on to produce another generation of offspring this year.

Oak and Ponderosa Survivors

The most unexpected part of the recovery at West Catherine Creek (to me) is the resilience of the Oregon white oak groves and Ponderosa pine sprinkled across the savannah. Their future looked grim when I visited last winter, after the back-to-back fires, but now there are signs of life on even the most badly burned trees.

A sampling of some of some of the more remarkable survivors follows, some marked with inset boxes for subsequent photos that provide greater detail…

Somehow, this torched old Ponderosa on the west Catherine Creek rim is still hanging on – or, at least part of it is…

A closer look at the surviving limbs. Will these be enough to save the tree? Quite possibly, as there are many gnarled examples of trees just like this across the Catherine Creek savannah

This future of this ancient Oregon white oak looked grim last winter…

…but a closer look this spring shows lots of new growth emerging from its scorched limbs. This tree has a very good chance of surviving.

This trio of Ponderosa in the heart of the West Catherine Creek savannah fared especially well, possibly because of more abundant ground water (as indicated by the still-green grasses and wildflowers) they have access to?

Further upslope, this big Ponderosa didn’t fare as well and seemed a total loss last winter…

…but this closer look shows some living limbs near the base of the tree. If it does survive, this tree is one its way to becoming another gnarled, scrappy survivor in this harsh environment

This pair of large oaks along the Rowland Wall show just how seemingly random the impact of a wildfire can be. The tree on the left didn’t make it, but why did its twin just a few inches away survive? In the end, the surviving tree now has less competition for groundwater and soil nutrients – including those that will someday come from its decaying twin – an ecosystem benefit that favors the stranger, surviving oak

Throughout the oak stands below the Rowland Walls, what looks like mistletoe….

…but are really explosions of new shoots and foliage from larger, living limbs that survived the fire

The young Ponderosa in the foreground has beat the odds so far, somehow surviving the fire. Its presumptive parent (in the background) was only lightly affected by the burn, and will benefit by shedding its scorched lower limbs, making it less vulnerable to future burns

On my winter visit, I had written off this entire stand of crowded young oaks and pines. While the thicket of young Ponderosa on the right was, indeed, completely killed, roughly half the oaks in the grove on the left are making a surprising recovery

This stand of Ponderosa in the upper meadow was a focus of previous articles on both the 2024 and 2025 fires, as both burned very hot and long under these trees due to heavy accumulation of downed trees and brush. Of the seven trees shown, three (numbered) seem likely to survive, with new growth emerging this spring. This stand is another good example of the benefits of fire to the surviving trees – both in reducing competition for water and soil nutrients, but also by raising their canopy ahead of the next fire, as all three surviving trees lost lower limbs to the burn

Favorites and old friends…

I’ve mostly kept this series focused on ecosystem recovery and the health of the savannah, but it’s no secret that most who go there each year are seeking more than science. The beauty and uniqueness of the landscape is breathtaking, as are the ancient, gnarled oaks and pines that grow here. They become old friends to us.

In that spirit, I’ll finish with updates on a few of these places in the West Catherine Creek area and the old friends who grow there. First, the good news: for those who love the Catherine Creek canyon, the fire was both beneficial — clearing accumulated brush and downfall and thinning thickets of young trees — while visually minimal. The shelter provided the cliffs and the relatively moist soils along the creek appears to have helped most of the oak groves and scattered Ponderosa pine on the canyon floor survive – and now thrive.

The following views into the Catherine Creek canyon from the west rim tell the story…

Looking across the Catherine Creek canyon from the west shows an oak and pine forest that has largely survived in the relatively moist, wind-protected confines. The trees in the less intensely burned savannah on the far side of the canyon also seems to be largely recovering after the fire

A few trees above the Catherine Creek Arch were lost to the fire, but most of the groves within the protected cultural area near the arch seem to be recovering

At the lower end of West Catherine Creek, a trio of big oaks tower above a familiar seasonal pond surrounded by spring wildflowers (below). It’s a favorite, much-photographed spot along the trail, and one of the most picturesque scenes in East Gorge. Two of the oaks here survived, though the smallest oak in the trio did not.

Last winter, it was unclear if any of these trees would survive, but the surviving pair on the right appear to have been just large enough to make it through the fire. Both show a lot of new growth, and stand a very good chance of living on to thrill visitors for years to come. Their younger sibling on the left does not seem to have survived, however.

The “Oak Trio” grove at the (already dry in this view) west pond is now the “Oak Duo”, with the younger tree on the left losing the battle to the fire. The twin siblings on the right are thriving in their recovery.

In a previous article, I profiled this picturesque “grove” of oaks (below) that turns out to be a single tree. Its original trunk now just a hollow in the middle marking a fire or lightning event from long ago, replaced by a circle of shoots that have become trunk-sized. This is among my sentimental favorites for its uniqueness, and thus a welcome sight to see it bouncing back strongly after two successive wildfires.

The sprawling old oak that decided to become its own grove is alive and well at West Catherine Creek

Finally, there is the impossibly contorted old oak creeping along the exposed rim of Rowland Wall (below). The winds from the west were especially powerful the day I was there, providing some insight into why this tough old tree is only a few feet tall (though nearly twenty feet long!) Both fires somehow missed this rocky outcrop completely.

Had the fire burned here, I’m certain this old tree would have been killed, as its low limbs have no chance of reaching above even a modest brushfire and much of its trunk is deadwood, just waiting to become fuel.

This ancient, battered oak dodged the back-to-back fires to live another season and produce another cycle of acorns

Instead, this old sentinel has survived to live for a few more years and produce acorns. A few of its seeds might even go unnoticed by local ground squirrels and take root, someday replacing this old tree and completing the cycle – that’s the science of this ecosystem. But my sentimental side hopes this spectacular old tree outlives me by many decades.

More driftwood than tree, the old oak atop Rowland Wall is the living embodiment of the extreme conditions here

As hard as it has been to watch old survivors in the Catherine Creek savannah finally lose their battle to live over the course of these fires, it was losing an equally tortured old pine [add the link here] (below) just a few hundred yards up the ridge from the ancient oak that caused me to rethink my appreciation for these old trees. It was the realization that human fire suppression had artificially extended the longevity of these tree for our aesthetic benefit, yet undermined the very health of the ecosystem they exist solely to perpetuate – for their benefit.

Thus, where my mindset before the fires was to greet these old friends as museum pieces and romantic testaments to their instinct to survive, I’m now attempting to reverse that expectation.

On this trip, I made a point of appreciating the gnarled, surviving old oak at Rowland Wall for both its tenacity and good luck, and the privilege of learning a bit more each time I visit — about the forces that continue to shape it, and the forces within this oak that have enabled it to endure seemingly impossible odds. And if this old oak suddenly joins its Ponderosa neighbor to become another bleached skeleton on my next visit? Well, then there will be new lessons to learn as it slowly fades into the savannah grassland.

I avoided looking at this old Ponderosa on my first visit after it was killed by the Burdoin Fire. Now, I’m learning to appreciate it for the story it will tell for decades to come as the bleached reminder of a tree that once figured out how to survive in this impossible spot atop Rowland Wall

All of this sounds easy enough, but letting go of old ways is never easy. It’s a new mindset of embracing a present that I deeply treasure as simply a fleeting part of the continuum, as opposed to something to be preserved, often against its own nature. Fire-deprived landscapes in the East Gorge are our invention, after all.

Therefore, part of the journey for all of us in restoring fire to this landscape requires adjusting our sentimental side to a new sense of what constitutes “beauty” – and to nudge my own sensibilities in that direction, I’ve added a new category to the article tags in the blog to include “ghost trees”. Watch for more of those in the future!

As always, thanks for reading this far – and I hope to see you on the trail, sometime!

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Previous articles on the Burdoin Fire aftermath:

• Secrets of the Fire at Catherine Creek (Feb 14, 2025)

• Goodbye to an old friend… or is it? (Jan 1, 2026)

• The Burdoin Fire – Part 1: Resiliency (Feb 2, 2026

• The Burdoin Fire – Part 2: Fragility (Feb 17, 2026)

• The Burdoin Fire – Part 3: Sustainability (Mar 6, 2026)

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Tom Kloster | June 2026