Restoring Trails… and Hope? The Owl Point Register Story (Part 2 of 2)

The prolific 2021 Beargrass bloom at Owl Point

When I posted Part 1 of this article last month, the theme was about the redemptive, restorative power of time spent in the outdoors. At the time, I wasn’t alone in dreading the November elections, and the prospect of a renewed attack on public lands protections (and democracy, itself). 

Flash forward one month, and the election landscape has radically changed in ways nobody could have predicted. I suddenly find myself with renewed hope and optimism that the next four years might bring more federal action on the climate crisis and protection of our public lands. Words like hope, optimism and bipartisanship have even found their way back into the national debate.

Our antiquated Electoral College system will ensure this election continues to be political nail-biter, yet it was through this lens of renewed optimism that I read through more comments in the Owl Point Register for this sequel. Part 2 of this article draws from the hundreds of messages left in the log between 2017 and 2023, and I chose a select few that further underscore the title of this two-part series. 

Read on… with hope!

_______________

With the country suddenly talking about our shared future, again, what better way to begin Part 2 than with this wonderful message from a determined young family that tried – and succeeded – after three attempts to make it to Owl Point in the summer of 2017:

I so love seeing families on this trail. Here’s another family message from the same month in 2017, in this case with kids old enough to be Swifties:

In the Oregon Hikers Field Guide the Old Vista Ridge trail is described as “family friendly” because It’s just long enough to give kids a workout (and hopefully they will sleep all the way home) and sense of accomplishment at reaching their goal at Owl Point. Along the way, there are interesting things that appeal uniquely to kids: short side trails to secret viewpoints, mysterious talus caves, lots of boulders to climb, the “elephant trunk tree” near Blind Luck Meadow and a string of kid-friendly geocaches. 

The Owl Point Register serves as one more feature for kids to explore, often writing the entry on behalf of their family, or at least giving their parents an assist. The summit box also has some local history and a guide to Mount Hood’s features for older kids and parents to ponder (more about that toward the end of the article).

There were a series of important milestones in the Old Vista Ridge trail saga that began in 2017, and led to this old trail formally being recognized by the Forest Service, once again. I previewed what was to come in this message I wrote in early July of that year on my annual scouting trip:

The second paragraph in the above entry refers to my oldest brother, Pete, who died unexpectedly and tragically of suicide that July, at just 66 years old. He died just two days before I wrote this message. Pete was a hero to me in every way, and I still think of him most days – but especially when I’m out on the trail. 

I’d forgotten spending that day up on the Old Vista Ridge trail, so soon after his death, until I re-read this message. It makes sense. Owl Point continues to be one of my go-to places when I need to sort out life and regain perspective. As I said in that message in 2017, Pete would have loved it up there, and I only wish I had somehow made that happen when he was alive.

The 20-year-old me and my late brother Pete (right) talking cameras in 1982. Pete got me hooked on photography, music from folk to classical and so much more that defines me today. I can’t blame him for those overalls, however! Such was my wardrobe during my college years. I still have that camera that I’m holding – Olympus OM-1, my first real camera. Pete helped me pick it out. It still works as if it were brand new, and taking a roll of film with it now is like having Pete back, if only for the moment.

Two weeks after that early July scouting trip in 2017, I was joined by Forest Service (USFS) staff from the Hood River District and Trailkeepers of Oregon (TKO) executive director Steve Kruger for an official walk-through of the trail. The goal was to assess its restored condition and finalize an agreement with the USFS for TKO to adopt and maintain the trail in perpetuity in exchange for it being formally recognized by agency, once again. The USFS team included Claire Fernandez, then the Hood River District recreation manager, and two forest resource specialists, Mike and Ken (below)

Mike, Steve, Claire and Ken at Owl Point on July 26, 2017

Our first stop that day was at the unofficial trailhead, marked by these hand-made signs. The first order of business was to figure out where official USFS trail signs should be located to replace these user-made signs. It turned out that Claire had done some heavy lifting with a few of her USFS colleagues by smoothing over some bad feelings over these unsanctioned signs and advocating for the trail to be formally reopened. I’m convinced that without Claire’s efforts behind the scenes, the official status of the Old Vista Ridge Trail would still be in limbo.

The old user-made signs posted at the Old Vista Ridge trailhead in July 2017

When we reached Owl Point, I held my breath as Claire immediately spotted the register box, then opened it and began reading through some of the messages in the log. I watched out of the corner of my eye from fifteen feet away, pretending to take photos. I was certain we would be asked to remove it, along with the hand-made trail signage. In just five years, the box had become an important part of what made Owl Point such a fun hike, and I was dreading a request to remove it.

Instead, she carefully packed the log back into the register box after reading entries for a few minutes, then closed the lid and didn’t say a word about it to me. I’ve never asked her, but I suspect as a person who has devoted her professional life to outdoor recreation, she appreciated the dozens of joyful, often quite personal notes that people had been moved to write in the log while at the view from Owl Point. 

The Owl Point Register box in July 2017

The Forest Service walk-through hike that day finally sent the formal paperwork into motion, and TKO officially adopted the Old Vista Ridge trail later that year. As you will see later in this article, the timing couldn’t have been better, as future events would have made it nearly impossible for volunteers to unofficially keep the trail open.

This entry from 2017 jumped out to me for the fact that a pair of long-distance visitors (England and Connecticut) made their way to Katsuk Point, an off-trail, somewhat challenging trek that few hikers attempt:

Here’s yet another message from the Portland Parks & Recreation Senior Hikers group. By 2017, they had become annual visitors, with a group of 17 along for this hike:

Here’s a message I’ve included as a cultural date stamp, as even the Owl Point Register wasn’t immune from a Game of Thrones reference in 2017 — though I was pleased to see that Owl Point won out over the premier episode!

I love the following message from a first-time solo hiker. Noting the date, it is surely must have been one that Claire read when she opened the log four days later? Perhaps it was this wonderful, heartfelt entry that saved the Owl Point Register?

August messages in the log book commonly mention the two things that seem to arrive every summer, these days: huckleberries and wildfire smoke:

The smoke had cleared a week later when I posted this message (below) in the log on August 21, 2017. The event? The solar eclipse that had turned Oregon into crazytown that year. While Owl Point was just outside the path of totality, I was looking for solitude that day, and decided to experience something short of totality from the Old Vista Ridge Trail, away from the predicted traffic jams. As it turned out, I was the only person there that day!

Why, I even included highly scientific sketches of the eclipse phases in my log message! I had, in fact, mapped out the path in detail using some of the tools (below) that were available for eclipse-watchers.

Totality path of the August 2017 solar eclipse

Detailed delineation of the totality zone beginning just south of Mount Hood

I wasn’t sure what to expect from the eclipse, but I wanted to capture both a timed sequence of images and some informal shots. Add in an iPhone, I was busy documenting the slow-motion changes unfolding in the sky.

My camera kit for the day: two DSLRs with wide and telephoto options. Not pictured: two tripods… a heavy load that day!

I arrived at Owl Point a few minutes past 9 AM to find a clear, bright sky. A typical summer day on the Old Vista Ridge trail:

The view from Owl Point in the hour prior to the eclipse

Here’s my camera setup as the eclipse began to unfold. This was taken with my iPhone, and picked up a weird yellowish glare that was filtered out of the images captured on my two larger cameras:

Dual cameras ready to go as the eclipse begins

Assembling a series of images from the camera on the left, this sequence (below) spans the eclipse from beginning to totality. In final two images, the bright band along the west shoulder of the mountain is actually daylight from beyond the path of totality – an unexpected and otherworldly effect.

[click here for a large view of this sequence]

This iPhone panorama was taken as totality approached, and gives a better sense of how strange it was to be looking south, past the path of totality, to the daylight beyond. It might look like a cloud band, but it’s really a thin strip of night passing overhead:

Panorama of the eclipse as it approached totality

I’d created a schedule with 10-minute intervals between timed images, so I also took advantage of the healthy huckleberry crop at Owl Point that day…

One-half water bottle is enough for a huckleberry cobbler…!

This message from September 2017 (below) is a first in the log – a portmanteau!  The Schweitzer + Franks families = the Schwanks! I’m going to guess that Latte was a canine member of the party, and I especially liked the unexpected last part of this entry. So many people are inspired to reflect on lost friends and family while at Owl Point.

More long-distance visitors from California came to Owl Point to close out the 2017 hiking season:

…and these out-of-towners from Texas opened the 2018 season:

More early visitors in 2018, with the second group spending the night at Owl Point and adding botanical sketches:

While there are a few posts in the Owl Point Log that mention overnight stays, they’re not common. I suspect that’s mainly because there’s no water source up there, and thus the group above would have had to carry water in (including for Cedar) to augment the wine and beer!

Here’s a post from a couple of trail friends that I run into periodically who were up at Owl Point in 2018 as part of the Cascade Pika Watch effort:

Here’s a notable, if understated, post from that same day in early July, 2018, when the Old Vista Ridge trail was formally re-dedicated as part of TKO’s 10th Anniversary:

In fact, this event had originally been scheduled for September 2017, but the raging Eagle Creek Fire had closed public access to much of the area north of Mount Hood as the fire raced through the Hatfield Wilderness backcountry in the Columbia River Gorge.

The rescheduled event in 2018 kicked off with a typical trailhead orientation for volunteers, with TKO’s Steve Kruger presiding (in yellow hard hat):

TKO 10th Anniversary trailhead talk at the Old Vista Ridge grand re-opening in July 2018

On this special day, TKO volunteers would be installing official USFS signage along the trail as part of the re-dedication, in addition to the annual tasks of clearing logs and brush.

New trail signs and posts in the USFS pickup in July 2018

These trail signs were installed by TKO volunteers in July 2018 and have survived six winters and counting. Volunteers also lugged six 8-foot 4×4” posts up the trail, each buried 18” in rocky soil – a real workout!

TKO Executive Director Steve Kruger and Hood River District Ranger Janeen Tervo re-dedicating the Old Vista Ridge trail on July 8, 2018. Cutting the ribbon involved a handsaw, loppers and trail flagging, of course. Old and new trailhead signs are leaning against the base of the tree

TKO grand re-opening celebration at Owl Point on July 8, 2018 – the first of our annual TKO anniversary events there

Two groups visiting Owl Point on the same day in late July 2018 shared the sentiment that so many of us can relate to – that we’re so very lucky to live here! My condolences to the folks who made the second entry, too. Vermont is lovely, but not as lovely as the Pacific Northwest (I may have just triggered a few Vermonters):

Another out-of-owner in 2018, this time from Connecticut…

By August 2018, the original Owl Point Log had completely filled, and I placed a blank, new edition. For the next year or so, I also left the original log in place for folks to read, with this message:

Closing out the original Owl Point Log after six years…

The cover of the original Owl Point Log after six years up on the mountain

The new Owl Point Log (Volume 2) begins with this message:

I placed the new log as part of yet another TKO trip to the Old Vista Ridge trail on August 5, 2018. Most of the volunteers that day were focused on clearing the last few logs on the trail, but I worked with TKO intern Karen to finish installing the last of the trail signs at Owl Point (below) and Alki Point.

The author and TKO intern Karen installing the (then) brand new Owl Point spur trail sign in August 2018

More out-of-towners in 2018, this time from Maryland visiting a recently transplanted New Yorker:

…and another annual visit in 2018 from the Portland Parks & Recreation Senior Hikers group – 25 hikers on this outing!

Hiker Jim (below) was apparently so elated with the view from Owl Point in September 2018 that he was suspended in mid-air above the rocks (or so I interpret his sketch):

Guide book author Matt Reeder (below) is a longtime friend of the Old Vista Ridge trail, having not only included it in his “Off the Beaten Trail” guide, but also placing a photo from the trail on the cover!

Matt Reader featured a view from the Old Vista Ridge Trail on his “Off the Beaten Trail” guide

This series of visitors in early October, 2018 shared a common fate: Mount Hood lost in the clouds:

You might wonder why people would pick a viewpoint trail on a cloudy day, but it’s not that simple with Owl Point, especially early and late in the hiking season. Vista Ridge and Owl Point lie precisely on the Cascade divide, a mile-high crest where moist marine air coming off the Pacific often condenses into a low cloud cap, even as Mount Hood rises above into blue skies.

Here’s what it looks like at Owl Point when this happens – this is the view west, into the fog that is seemingly a stationary cloud:

Cloud cap engulfing Owl Point on a fall day

Yet, looking east toward the Hood River Valley you can see the cloud isn’t stationary, at all – and, in fact, is dissipating right above you, with blue skies to the east:

Looking toward the Hood River Valley and Surveyor’s Ridge from under a cloud cap at Owl Point

Here’s what that effect looks like from up on the Timberline Trail – a “cloud waterfall” of marine air condensing into a rolling fog bank as it pushes from the west (left) over Vista Ridge and Owl Point, then cascading and evaporating into the dry air mass to the east (right in this photo) side of the divide:

Cloud cap forming a “cloud waterfall” at Owl Point

This effect can be very local, or become widespread when a weak Pacific front pushes in, as shown in this view from above Elk Cove, looking down on the Cascade divide and Owl Point:

Widespread “cloud waterfalls” along the Cascade crest – the view looking north from Mount Hood toward Mount St. Helens

Even on the clearest spring and fall days, cloud banks can form over Vista Ridge and Owl Point without notice. The clouds those October 2018 hikers encountered had cleared by the time I visited later that month, with an added bonus: they had dusted the mountain with an early coat of fresh snow – a magical time of year on the mountain:

The dusting of snow on Mount Hood described in my October 2018 log entry

Here’s a message from a dedicated grandma – with her 16-month toddler – that caught my eye:

This post from 2018 mentions another guidebook that helped bring folks to the Old Vista Ridge Trail, Paul Gerald’s popular “60 Hikes within 60 minutes of Portland” guide. A lesser-known fact is that Paul served on the TKO board for several years, including a stint as TKO board president. Thank you, Paul!

Kicking off the 2019 hiking season, this is perhaps the most international series of messages to date in the Owl Point Log:

I’ve circled the exclamation marks – while I can’t read the least three messages, they all seem to have been impressed with the view from Owl Point!

Here’s one more from that group of international visitors in 2019 (and if you are a reader of this blog and can translate any of these messages, please add as a comment):

An “opposites attract” milestone message in July 2019, plus more out-of-towners from North Carolina:

…and yet another milestone message. There have been a few marriage proposals and baby announcements, but this is the first adoption announcement to appear in the Owl Point Log. I especially loved that a subsequent visitor added a congratulations:

Here’s the first “animal in heat” (!) sticker to appear in the log, along with some very polished cartoons:

Yet another pair of entries from the author, this time on a scouting trip in July 2019 for the annual TKO anniversary event on the Old Vista Ridge Trail:

When I re-read this message for this article, I wondered just how gorgeous those clouds really were? Digging back into my photo archives, it’s true – they were spectacular:

WyEast looking lovely under painterly clouds back in the summer of 2019

…the mountain was pretty nice that day, too!

Here’s another long-distance visitor in 2019, this time from Germany:

My rough translation of the above entry: It was a wonderful day at Mount Hood. My dad and I had a great day. I love Oregon.” German speakers, help me out if you can!

Also from July 2019, another successful Pika survey:

It doesn’t surprise me that Pika thrive here. While their habitat throughout the west is threatened by climate change, much of the talus (their sole habitat) faces southeast and is shaded from late afternoon heat by the Owl Point ridgeline and stands of Noble fir. Hopefully, this will be enough to keep their familiar “meep” calls coming from the rocks here for decades to come.

Here’s a string of recent arrivals (from Nashville) and more long-distance visitors who stopped by on the same day in July, 2019 (if you can help with translation, please add a comment).

August 2019 brought the second annual TKO celebration to the Old Vista Ridge trail (below) with another large group of volunteers for our annual trail tending. More logs to clear, more huckleberries to brush away from the trail and another fine day up at the mountain!

In that second year of what has since become our annual tradition, we captured the next in a series of group portraits that continue to this day (below). So far, the mountain has been out for every one of our events up at Owl Point. Though that streak surely can’t last forever, it does make for a great photo opportunity:

Team portrait from the annual TKO stewardship event in 2019

Here are a few more excerpts from 2019 in the Owl Point Log, beginning with this post that is personally inspiring to me, as hiking until I die is one of my life goals!

This post from first-timers in 2019 carries a common theme found through the log – that Owl Point is now on their annual hiking list:

This entry from September, 2019 made me smile – a couple of parents who survived summer break with kids seeking refuge at Owl Point and more out-of-towners (Colorado and Utah) discovering our huckleberries:

These back-to-back entries from October 2019 provide a nice contrast of “locals right where they’re meant to be” followed by more faraway visitors from Australia and The Netherlands reminding us that we live in a slice of Heaven here in WyEast country:

More out-of-towners from Seattle and West Palm Beach to close out the 2019 season, just ahead of the first snowfall that year:

As the snow began to fall that winter, burying the Old Vista Ridge trail under several feet of snow, we couldn’t have imagined that the entire world was about to turn upside down. Even our public lands were closed to entry in those early weeks of the COVID pandemic in the spring of 2020. By June of that year, public lands had reopened, and masked, pandemic-stressed hikers began arriving at Owl Point:

As if charting the five stages of grief, messages in the Owl Point Log in 2020 become more circumspect as the summer season arrived. Pandemic commentary gave way to life milestones and personal reflections as socially-distanced people reconnected with one another on the trail – among the safest places to be during the pandemic.

These friends reunited to celebrate a birthday (Chris is mentioned in Part 1 of this article):

Trails were an especially important refuge for older hikers in 2020, considered the most vulnerable among us to the COVID-19 virus – like these veteran hikers:

This pair of messages (below) from July 18, 2020 caught my eye. Hikers Matt and Jen filled in the creative blank left by Josh and Marissa on – collaboration!

The year 2020 had more unpleasant surprises for Oregon with the Labor Day windstorm and subsequent forests fires that raged up and down the Cascades. Owl Point was not spared from the wind event, and you can spot it in the Owl Point Log comments. I’ve highlighted a comment I wrote in the margins that fall to mark the windstorm:

The mess was as bad as the many comments in the Owl Point Log suggested. Dozens of trees were down, especially along the first mile of the Old Vista Ridge Trail. Here’s what the trail looked like in the spring of 2021, when I made my first trip to survey the damage:

Blowdown from the 2020 Labor Day windstorm burying the Old Vista Ridge Trail

Most startling were the number of very large trees that went down at the Old Vista Ridge trailhead. Yet, somehow the sign TKO volunteers had installed just two years before was (mostly) spared in jumble of debris:

Dented but still standing – the Old Vista Ridge trailhead sign after the 2020 Labor Day windstorm

The author surveying the damage from the 2020 Labor Day windstorm

It would still be a few weeks before TKO volunteers were scheduled to clear the mess in the summer of 2021 when I added the following message, so I included a bit of encouragement to hikers who were still pushing their way through debris to reach Owl Point that year:

This was the scene on August 11, 2021 when TKO volunteers descended upon the Old Vista Ridge trail and began the task of clearing dozens of downed trees:

TKO volunteers tackled many piles of fallen trees like this in 2021 (Photo: TKO)

TKO used the event as an opportunity provide crosscut saw training to volunteers, a requirement in wilderness areas where power saws are banned:

TKO volunteers clearing the trail one log at a time with crosscut saws (Photo: TKO)

Newly cleared section of the Old Vista Ridge trail in August 2021 (Photo: TKO)

Despite the messy trail conditions that year, you could feel the collective exhale of folks as the pandemic restrictions were gradually lifted. Plenty of thankful messages like these appear in the Owl Point Log:

This is a fun post from that summer (below). Ali got the last word in, but do you think Brendon knew what she had written? 

Meanwhile, these Rhode Islanders were in Oregon for a wedding in September 2021:

That year brought the first out-of-towners from eastern Canada, too:

Here’s the final from 2021 – an especially philosophical message left very late in the hiking season:

The 2022 hiking season arrived with a very late snowmelt, as noted by these long-distance visitors from the Netherlands:

There were still big snowdrifts in a few spots when I visited a week later with my old friend Ted and his two kids, who were home from college. It was a brisk, breezy and beautiful day to show off the beauty of Owl Point to some first-time visitors:

The author giving Ted and his kids a tour of heaven

Ted’s kids asked for some extra adventure, so I obliged with an off-trail visit to Katsuk Point and one of the more dramatic ceremonial Indian pit located nearby:

Blustery, beautiful day at Katsuk Point

Off-trail Indian Pit near Owl Point

Here’s another thoughtful message (and a toast!) from that summer, posted by out-of-towners from Minnesota and Wisconsin:

…and another Wisconsin group from the week prior – girls trip!

Mount Hood seems to inspire haiku – this entry was added in late August of 2022:

Not surprisingly, this isn’t the first mention of aliens in the Owl Point Log, but it might be the best:

Hiking buddies Kyrie and David left this very detailed sketch of the mountain in September 2022:

More locals returning to Owl Point in October 2022, plus road-trip out-of-towners from the Bay Area admiring our mountain:

Among the last messages from 2022 is from these Scranton, Pennsylvania out-of-towners, who were also enthused about trendy restaurants in Portland: 

The 2023 season opens with one of the finest entries to date in the Owl Point Log. Hiker Anna gives a literary spin to the natural history of the area, including a nice botanical sketch of Beargrass in bloom (the second in that I’ve included in this article):

Beargrass and Avalanche Lilies are mentioned often in the log by early summer visitors, so to put a face on these wildflowers, here’s a quick primer on these favorites.

First up, Avalanche Lily. The explosion of these lovely wildflowers in the Dollar Lake Burn area has made the main Vista Ridge Trail a new favorite among photographers, but there are plenty of these lilies growing along the northern sections of the Old Vista Ridge trail. The form carpets of white flowers under the Noble Fir canopy in late June and early July, especially in the section between Blind Luck Meadow and the Owl Point junction.

Avalanche Lilies near Owl Point in early July

Beargrass is also found throughout the hike to Owl Point, but it is most prolific in the area around Blind Luck Meadow and fringing the talus slopes at Owl Point, itself. Beargrass blooms in June and early July on tall spikes that gradually unfold whorls of tiny, individual blossoms from the bottom, up. 

This example at Owl Point has just begun to bloom:

Beargrass bloom beginning to unfurl

Here’s an example of Beargrass at Blind Luck Meadow at it peak, with the top of the spire fully open. For photographers, this is the Beargrass bloom stage they are seeking:

Beargrass in full bloom

Beargrass are fickle in their blooming habits. While there’s a widespread myth that these flowers bloom in seven-year cycles, it is true that individual plants rarely bloom in consecutive years. The abundance of blooming Beargrass in a particular area is more a measure of abundant spring rainfall, soil moisture and especially access to sunlight. Owl Point had prolific Beargrass years in 2016 and 2021, while other years had few or no bloom at all. 

2016 Beargrass bloom at Owl Point

Another myth is that bears eat Beargrass roots. Also not true, though deer and elk to graze on their foliage, and bears have been known to use their leaves as bedding. Native peoples also used the tough leaves from Beargrass in woven baskets and the fleshy roots for medicinal purposes.

This brings me to the conclusion of the second volume of the Owl Point Log book in, with yet another entry of my own, made while on a TKO scouting trip in July 2023. Notable in this message was the plume of smoke that I watched rising from the east shoulder of the mountain while I was at Owl Point that day. The fire turned out to be further south, along the White River. By the time reached home that night, it had exploded into a substantial fire.

Then, there was this entry from later that month in 2023 (below) by two USFS rangers researching the trail. Once again, I was relieved to read that they appreciated the Owl Point Register box and log book – and the view, of course!

This note (below) marked the most ambitious annual TKO outing to date on the Old Vista Ridge Trail. Not only were there volunteers clearing logs and brush along the Old Vista Ridge trail, a separate group had backpacked to WyEast Basin and spent two days clearing over 100 logs from the main Vista Ridge trail with crosscut saws.

The annual event portrait for 2023 (below) shows both crews meeting up at Owl Point for lunch. On hand were a couple gallons of ice-cold lemonade (hauled two miles in!) and several dozen homemade cookies. The bright yellow sunshades mark the overnight crew that worked the Vista Ridge trail – a very exposed area since the 2011 Dollar Fire swept through.

The dual-crew TKO meetup at Owl Point in 2023

TKO crosscut crews on the main Vista Ridge Trail for an overnight logout in July 2023 (Photo: TKO)

Crosscut crews celebrating 110 logs cleared in two days in 2023

The final (and perfect) entry in Volume 2 of the Owl Point Log is this artful sketch (below) by Honey. I’m going to guess that Honey climbed a tree while at Owl Point? 

The second volume was close to full by August 2023, but worse, the cover was falling apart. A kind visitor had done some first aid with duct tape, but alas, it was time to retire this one…

The second volume to the Owl Pont Log was well-loved..

And so, I left this note to close out the second volume:

Where are the first two volumes of the Owl Point Log kept? In TKO’s archives – which really means a closet in my home office. When TKO does have an archive, someday, they will move to that more appropriate place.

The archived first and second editions of the Owl Pont Log… safe in my closet

…and so, in August of last year I place the third volume of the Owl Point Log in the summit register, along with a fresh version of the Old Vista Ridge scrapbook, maps and visual guide to Mount Hood’s features (below). Judging by the folds, and comments in the log, these get well-used by hikers wanting to learn a bit more about the area and Mount Hood.

The contents of the Owl Point Register – log, scrapbook, maps and a guide to Mount Hood’s features

And what about the box, itself? So far, it’s doing remarkably well (below), considering the abuse it receives from the elements up on Owl Point. I painted it with army-green Rustoleum back in 2012, and though it’s showing some rust around the edges, It has remained water-tight for twelve years and counting. 

Eleven winters and counting at Owl Point

[click here for a large version]

For those who don’t recognize it, the box is an old Army ammo can that I picked up at the venerable (and since closed) Andy and Bax in Portland. At some point, I’ll need to replace the box, as well – and find a new army surplus store!

What’s ahead for the Old Vista Ridge Trail?

When TKO adopted the Old Vista Ridge Trail – our founding trail – it was part of a broader vision for the area that TKO presented to the Forest Service in 2016. There are lots of proposals in that vision for improving trails and trailhead on the north side of Mount Hood. Among them, the next priority is to provide a route to Owl Point from the east, from the Laurance Lake trailhead.

TKO volunteers clearing a log near Owl Point in July 2024

Currently, TKO’s adopted segment of the Old Vista Ridge trail ends at this sign (below), at Alki Point. From here, the unmaintained trail continues downhill to the site of the old Red Hill Guard Station and tiny Perry Lake (more of a pond). 

TKO intern Karen helping plant the “trail not maintained” sign at the end of the adopted segment of the Old Vista Ridge Trail in 2018

TKO’s vision is to construct a roughly one-mile connector from Perry Lake to the upper trailhead of the Laurance Lake trail. This schematic shows the proposed connector, as viewed from high on Mount Hood, looking north:

[click here for a large version]

The Laurance Lake Trail was built sometime in the early 1990s and originally envisioned as a mountain bike loop. However, a landslide destroyed the old logging spur that was intended to complete the loop. Later, that part of the planned route was incorporated into the Mount Hood Wilderness, and bicycle travel is now prohibited there.

The orphaned stub of the Laurance Lake Trail remains popular for the views of the lake (below) from the open talus slope the trail traverses and the easy uphill grade that was originally built for bikes.

Laurance Lake and Mount Hood from the Laurance Lake Trail

Beyond the talus slopes the trail reaches a ridgetop that eventually extends west to Owl Point. An upper trailhead exists here, too, making construction of the connector trail convenient for crews, since work on the new trail would begin here.

Upper trailhead for the Laurance Lake Trail

Hikers have worn a path along the first quarter mile of the proposed route to and opening along the valley rim (below), with a sweeping view of the mountain.

Upper Laurance Lake Trail viewpoint

From the upper trailhead and viewpoint, the new connector would travel through a gently sloped forest for about a mile, then emerge where the unmaintained section of the Old Vista Ridge trail begins. From here, a series of expansive views into the Mount Hood Wilderness unfold along the way to Owl Point.

One of the many views along the unmaintained section of the Old Vista Ridge Trail (photo: Janice Abbagliato Messervier)

There is no timeline for this work, and federal planning processes are slow, but I’m hopeful that this new route and others that TKO has proposed can happen sooner than later. It’s no secret why people are increasingly seeking time out on trails in our public lands – the many messages in the Owl Point Log are testament to that – and there’s a tremendous backlog in meeting that need. I’m looking forward to working with TKO to be part of making it happen.

The annual TKO event at Owl Point in 2024

[click here for a large version]

Thanks for indulging me this far in a rather sprawling article and a trip down memory lane! As always, I appreciate folks stopping by and especially for being a friend of WyEast.

Hope to see you on the trail, sometime!
______________

Tom Kloster | August 2024

2018 Mount Hood National Park Calendar!

00aCoverHoodLoloPassEvening

Mount Hood’s imposing west face is featured on the cover

[click here for a large image]

Each year since the Mount Hood National Park Campaign began in 2004, I’ve published a wall calendar to celebrate the many reasons why Mount Hood and the Columbia River Gorge should be our next national park. You can pick up this year’s calendar here:

2018 Mount Hood National Park Campaign Calendar

The monthly layout remains the same as last year, with a classic “grid” design that serves nicely as a working calendar for kitchens or offices. The finished calendar hangs 14 inches wide by 22 inches tall, with a white wire binding, and the print quality of the photos is excellent!

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In the past I’ve used calendar sales help cover some of the modest costs of keeping the campaign website and WyEast blog up and running, but beginning this year I will shift to sending all proceeds to Trailkeepers of Oregon, and in turn, TKO’s coming efforts to help recover our Columbia River Gorge trails from the impacts of the 2017 Eagle Creek Fire.

The great thing about putting these calendars together is that it ensures I continue exploring new places in the gorge and on the mountain, as each calendar consists exclusively of photos I’ve taken over the previous year. In this year’s calendar article, I’ll provide some of the stories behind the photos in the new Mount Hood National Park Campaign Calendar — sort of a visual year-in-review!

The WyEast Year in Images

The following is a rundown of the 12 images inside the calendar by month, with a link to a large version of each image, too (you can see them by clicking the link beneath each preview image).

The 2018 calendar begins with the cover image (at the top of the article), featuring the steep Sandy Headwall on Mount Hood’s imposing west face. This is the view Portlanders have of their mountain from afar, but a close-up look from along the Timberline Trail reveals the crevassed Sandy and Reid glaciers tumbling down the slopes and the deep Muddy Fork canyon, almost directly below. This is Mount Hood’s “tallest” side, with a vertical rise of more than 7,000 feet from the Muddy Fork valley floor to the 11,250-foot summit.

The January image in the new calendar features a chilly Cold Spring Creek on Mount Hood’s east slope:

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Cold Spring Creek in Winter

[click here for a large image]

Only a few years ago, the snowshoe hike along Cold Spring Creek to Tamanawas Falls was completely off the radar for most, but in recent years its popularity has soared, and the trailhead is now packed on winter weekends.

One twist this year was a Forest Service noticed tacked up at the trailhead:

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Hmm…

As it turned out, what apparently was a difficult rock fall to negotiate over the summer was much easier to travel with a couple feet of snow covering the debris. The rocks fell in a section of canyon just below the falls that experienced an enormous cliff collapse in the early 2000s, and continues to be active.

For February, I selected a photo from a near-perfect winter day in the upper White River Canyon, along the popular Boy Scout Ridge snowshoe route:

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Upper White River Canyon

[click here for a large image]

The day began with clear blue skies, which is glorious, of course, but not so great for photography. After reaching a favorite viewpoint in the upper canyon, though, bands of clouds began floating in, making for some memorable scenes of a cloud-framed mountain. The photo below was taken on the way out that day, as evening shadows began to stretch across the lower canyon.

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White River and Mount Hood

[click here for a large image]

As covered in previous articles, fire in the Columbia River Gorge is as much a part of the ecology as the trees, themselves. But if you had told me the extent of the Eagle Creek Fire last spring, I wouldn’t have believed you.

For hikers, it’s almost like the Eagle Creek Fire was connecting dots among favorite Columbia River Gorge beauty spots, with only a few of the iconic waterfalls that make the Oregon side of the Gorge famous escaping the flames. So, even knowing and accepting that fire is a necessary and beneficial part of the ecosystem still doesn’t blunt the harsh reality that this fire felt personal. And it’s going to take awhile to heal.

As the fire raged west toward Portland last September, my immediate thought was Tanner Creek, the next drainage to the west of Eagle Creek and directly in the path of the inferno. If I had to pick a spot that embodies almost everything that defines the Columbia River Gorge, Tanner Creek’s lower canyon is it, culminating with spectacular Wahclella Falls.

This canyon is as fine a temple as nature can create, and it’s a sanctuary I visit many times each year. This is my most treasured place in the Gorge… and now I wondered “Would it burn?”

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Wahclella Falls on Tanner Creek

[click here for a large image]

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Waterfall enthusiasts visiting the altar at Wahclella Falls last spring

I didn’t know the answer to that question until a week or two ago, when I came upon some aerial photos of the Gorge taken sometime this fall. My scientific acceptance — embrace, in fact — of fire in our forests aside, I was selfishly relieved to see that the deep gorge surrounding Wahclella Falls had somehow been missed by the fire. Or had simply resisted it.

This photo shows Wahclella Falls and its iconic grove of Western Red Cedar mostly intact, though much of the surrounding Tanner Creek canyon was severely burned:

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Wahclella Falls after the fire

Wahclella Falls is at the bottom of the photo, and Tanner Creek’s lesser-known upper gorge and the string of waterfalls that continue above Wahclella Falls can also be seen in this view. This is a place where I hope to see a trail, someday. Maybe in the destruction of the forest we’ll see new trails to places like this, where we take in new sights while also watching our Gorge recover?

For the March image, I selected another Gorge waterfall. This is the last in a string of waterfalls on Moffett Creek, located immediately to the west of Tanner, Creek. This falls is generally known as Moffett Creek Falls or simply Moffett Falls:

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Moffett Falls

 [click here for a large image]

This waterfall is off-trail, and requires walking a mile or so up the streambed of Moffett Creek to reach it. I first visited this falls in the early 1980s, and have returned several times over the years. Sometime in the late 1980s or early 1990s, a massive rock fall occurred here, and completely changed the landscape below the falls and the canyon slopes to the west.

Before the fire, the scene was already one of recovering forests, with young groves of Red Alder flanking the falls and lining the rearranged creek for 100 yards downstream. The Eagle Creek fire was just the most recent calamity to sweep through this spot, and such is the dynamic, often cataclysmic nature of the Columbia River Gorge.

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Snowdrifts on Moffett Creek in mid-April!

Our trip last April was complicated by an extremely late snowpack, following a very wet and snowy winter in the Gorge. The canyon, itself, was a tangle of downfall from the harsh winter, making it a rough trip compared to previous years.

How did the fire affect Moffett Falls? Much more significantly than Wahclella Falls, on nearby Tanner Creek. Like Tanner Creek, Moffett Creek is located just west of Eagle Creek and was in the direct path of the fire during its most explosive, early phase. As this aerial photo taken sometime this fall shows, the entire forest around Moffett Falls appears to have been killed by the flames:

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Someday, I hope to see a trail to Moffett Creek’s waterfalls, too. Who knows, maybe the changes wrought by the fire will allow the Forest Service to consider that possibility? It turns out this idea isn’t new, at all. In fact, it was proposed in January 1916, when the brand new (now historic) Columbia River Highway was about to open:

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Excerpt from The Oregonian (January 30, 1916)

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Map excerpt from The Oregonian showing the proposed Moffett Creek Trail (January 30, 1916)

More about that trail concept, and the need for a long-term trail plan for the Gorge in a future article…!

Did you know that today’s Silver Creek State Park has been proposed to become a national monument or park at least a couple of times in the past? It makes sense, given the spectacular concentration of waterfalls within this beautiful preserve, and especially with the legacy of trails and lodges left by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) during their 1930s heyday. Many believe it to be a national park or monument today!

With this in mind, I selected a scene from a May visit to Silver Creek’s North Fork as a reminder that there are more than simply the show-stopper waterfalls to this amazing place:

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North Fork Silver Creek

[click here for a large image]

While our current regime in Washington D.C. is more focused on tearing away protections from our public in order to sell our resources off to corporate interests at bargain prices, it’s also true that the exploitation/conservation pendulum in our country swings both ways.

In some ways, the outrageous anti-environment, anti-science and anti-public lands extremism we’re seeing with the Trump administration has already kicked off a counter-movement. It can’t come soon enough, and hopefully you’ve joined in the opposition, too.

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Misty Silver Creek Forest

Someday, when the pendulum does swing, Silver Creek would make an excellent unit of a future Mount Hood National Park. Why? Because the current park contains just a small slice of Silver Creek’s larger ecosystem, and today’s beautiful scenes of waterfalls and mossy glades are increasingly threatened by upstream development and industrial-scale logging. Watch for a future article on this topic, too!

While on the subject of threatened places, the June image in the 2018 calendar captures another such spot on the other side of Mount Hood: Bald Butte, located along the east wall of the Hood River Valley:

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Mount Hood in late May from Bald Butte’s sprawling meadows

[click here for a large image]

This lovely butte rises directly above the Hood River Ranger Station, so close that Forest Service workers can enjoy the expansive wildflower spectacle from their offices, about a mile-and-a-half away as the crow flies, and some 2,200 vertical feet below.

You’d think being at the Forest Service’s front door would give pause to those who view our public lands as their personal playground to destroy. But Hood River County has a lot of off-highway vehicle (OHV) enthusiasts, and some in that community make a point of illegally driving their jeeps, quads and dirt bikes up the fragile slopes of Bald Butte — despite prominent signage prohibiting their use and periodic efforts to block them.

This is an ongoing battle with rogues that will someday be won, but it will take the OHV community policing itself to make the change happen. There will never be enough Forest Service crews to fill that void.

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Growing OHV damage to Bald Butte

How bad it is? Well, the old lookout track that serves as the hikers trail to the summit has become deeply rutted by illegal jeep and motorcycle users, which in turn, has inspired them to form parallel tracks on the open wildflower slopes (above). It will take decades for the damage to recover, even if the law breakers were stopped today.

Meanwhile, dirt bikers have hauled in chainsaws in order to carve new trails through the forests on the east slopes of Bald Butte. It’s not a pretty picture, and so far, nobody in the OHV community seems to be stepping up to confront the lawlessness.

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Dirt bike tracks don’t lie…

The Forest Service has indicated an interest to work with trail organizations (like TKO) to step up the efforts to keep OHV vandals out of Bald Butte, but in the meantime, they’re doing a lot of damage — which, in turn, is a black eye for anyone who enjoys using OHVs responsibly. Let’s hope they will join in the effort to protect Bald Butte, too.

For more about Bald Butte, and comparison photos that show the rapid progression of the OHV damage there, please see this earlier article on the blog – you can read it here.

For the July calendar image, I picked this 3-part composite of the Muddy Fork and Mount Hood. Look closely and you can see the series of towering waterfalls that drop from the hanging valleys on Yocum Ridge, in upper right. This is one of Mount Hood’s most rugged and untamed spots:

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Mount Hood’s Muddy Fork canyon

[click here for a large image]

Though we had a decent snowpack in the Cascades in 2017, it melted fast when summer arrived, and many trails on Mount Hood’s west slopes were opening by late June. So, when college friends David and Robin, from Colorado, called to say they would be in Portland and wanted to spend a day on the mountain, the hike to the Muddy Fork Crossing was the perfect choice!

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Old friends and The Mountain

It turned out to be a bluebird day, but what I found most interesting as we caught up on our parallel lives was their reaction to being in Pacific Northwest alpine country, again. Though David grew up here, he still marveled at the magnificence of our forests, especially the huge Noble fir groves we passed through, and Robin was especially taken with the amount of water, everywhere!

It was a timely reminder for me to never take our unique ecosystems for granted. Colorado has more big peaks than most any state of the country, but we are unique in our abundance or water and the verdant landscape it brings, from our rainforests, streams and lakes to the glaciers that hang from our peaks.

As we head into the uncertainty of climate change in coming decades, we’ll need to learn to view these seemingly abundant resources as precious and threatened, and no longer something to take for granted.

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Finally!

Another surprise along the hike was a new sign — finally! — marking the well-trod “cut off” that shortcuts the Timberline Trail where Bald Mountain (not to be confused with Bald Butte) meets McGee Ridge. I’m sure there was some official slight-of-hand required for the Forest Service to post this junction, as it is simply a user trail, and thus unsanctioned. But it’s a good call that will help hikers better negotiate the maze of trails in this area.

For August, I selected a photo from a favorite meadow perched along a ridge I call the White River Rim. A fragile island of Whitebark Pine, Mountain Hemlock and Subalpine Fir groves grow here, hemmed in on both sides by deep, perpetually eroding canyons of loose sand and boulder.

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Lupine fields on the White River Rim

[click here for a large image]

To the east of the rim is a maze of deep ravines that make up the White River Canyon. As the White River continues to cut into the loose volcanic slopes, here, whole sections of the ridge-top forests and wildflower meadows perched on the rim slide into the canyon.

The Salmon River is gradually eroding the rim from the west, as well, though less voraciously than the White River. In some spots, the flat ridge top is just a few feet wide, and losing ground fast. This is one of the most dynamic areas on the mountain.

The image below is also from along the rim above the White River, looking south and away from the mountain. This view captures the skeleton of a magnificent Mountain Hemlock and its still-surviving grove companions:

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Sentinel Whitepark Pine on the White River Rim

[click here for a large image]

Mountain Hemlock often growth in tight, circular groves, and I suspect botanists will someday discover that these groves communicate in some way as part of their collective strategy for survival, just as Douglas Fir are now known to communicate. Forest ecologist Suzanne Simard summed it us this way:

“I wondered, could Douglas fir recognize its own kin, like mama grizzly and her cub? So we set about an experiment, and we grew mother trees with kin and stranger’s seedlings. And it turns out they do recognize their kin. 

“Mother trees colonize their kin with bigger mycorrhizal networks. They send them more carbon below ground. They even reduce their own root competition to make elbow room for their kids. When mother trees are injured or dying, they also send messages of wisdom on to the next generation of seedlings.

“So we’ve used isotope tracing to trace carbon moving from an injured mother tree down her trunk into the mycorrhizal network and into her neighboring seedlings, not only carbon but also defense signals. And these two compounds have increased the resistance of those seedlings to future stresses. So trees talk.”

Botanists once viewed a dying or dead tree in a grove like this as one whose biomass had grown too large to support in drought periods, but could another explanation be that the larger tree simply opted to turn over the future of the grove to its younger siblings? We still have so much to learn from our forests…

The September image in the new calendar captures an intersection of three threads of good fortune: an afternoon away form work to visit the mountain, clear weather after an early autumn snowstorm and moonrise over Illumination Saddle, the narrow ridge that connect Illumination Rock to the main summit ridges of Mount Hood.

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Moonrise over Illumination Saddle

[click here for a large image]

Time off from work on a clear autumn day was by design, but the moonrise was pure luck. While there are web tools for figuring out celestial paths from any point on the ground, I do confess that I’m not likely to use them. I simply sat at a favorite spot on the summit of Bald Mountain (not Bald Butte!) for an hour or so, waiting for the sunset, and was suddenly treated to the moon emerging over the saddle as an unexpected surprise!

So, why not use the modern tools? Partly, it just seems like a chore in what should be an enjoyable hobby. But I’d also be turning what was a wonderful surprise into one more thing to worry about — and that’s not why I head into the woods, after all. There’s something to be said for turning over the keys to Mother Nature, right?

And on that point, perhaps the best memory from that cold evening on Bald Mountain last fall was watching the sun set through the trees on the hike back down through the ancient Noble Fir forest.

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Winter sunset in the Noble forest

This grove of 300-year old giants somehow escaped the chainsaws when the Clear Fork valley, below, was logged in the 1960s, 70s and 80s. It remains as a rare reminder of what used to be — and what will be again, if we allow it.

For the October image, fall colors were in order, and with the Gorge trails mostly closed by the Eagle Creek Fire, I headed south to Butte Creek, located just north of Silver Falls State Park in the Santiam State Forest. I picked a serene scene along the creek…

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Butte Creek in autumn

[click here for a large image]

…though this peaceful spot is just 100 yards or so above Butte Creek Falls, which was raging that day, after a series of Pacific fronts had rolled through.

Butte Creek Falls is among my favorites, anywhere, and I’ve included it in past calendars. So, thus the quieter stream scene for 2018, but here’s a look at the high water at the falls that day:

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Butte Creek Falls

[click here for a large image]

Even more than nearby Silver Falls State Park, the Butte Creek canyon (and its twin, Abiqua Creek, just over the ridge) is in desperate need of a better management vision, and would make for an excellent extension of a future Mount Hood National Park. More about that in a future article, as well..!

Though I’ve hiked the short loop trail at Butte Creek many times, the fire in the Gorge had forest ecology and the role of fire in my mind on this visit, and noticed a small army of “legacy trees” throughout the rainforest here.

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The skeletons of Butte Creek’s “legacy trees” are hiding in plain sight

These ancient stumps and snags are from the last big fire to come through the area are called “legacy trees” for the benefits they bring from the old forest to the new. This area likely burned more than a century ago, yet the skeletons of the old forest still serve a crucial role in the health of the new forest.

As they slowly decay, old snags and stumps provide habitat for birds and other wildlife, and once fallen, they become “nurse logs”, upon which new trees grow. They also provide nutrients to the precious mountain soil as they decay — something a log hauled off to become lumber or cardboard can never do.

For November in the new calendar, I selected an image from the upper Hood River Valley, with Mount Hood rising above fields owned by a family that has continuously farmed the valley since the 1800s. On this day in late October, the Cottonwood grove at the center of the photo was in peak form, and the fresh coat of snow on the mountain was softened by a light haze in the air from farmers burning orchard trimmings.

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Upper Hood River Valley in autumn

[click here for a large image]

But this wasn’t my first attempt at the photo! As shown below, I’d stopped here a couple of weeks earlier, after another early snowfall had blanketed the mountain. At that point, the Cottonwoods were still in their summer green, but what a different two weeks makes! I’ve cropped images from both visits identically for comparison:

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Hood River Valley scene in mid-October…

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…and two weeks later!

Notice how much sharper the mountain was on the earlier visit? It could have been wind conditions sweeping away smoke from orchard fires that day, or perhaps the burning season hadn’t begun, yet? Nonetheless, I liked the depth created by the haze in the second view, too.

For the December image, I picked this view of Tamanawas Falls on Cold Spring Creek, captured the same day as the opening photo of the creek in the January image. This is always a magical spot, but I’ll share a couple of details about the trip that made the day memorable.

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Tamanawas Falls on Cold Spring Creek

[click here for a large image]

First, it’s always an icebox in Cold Spring Canyon in winter. Why? Because the low sun angle in winter months can’t reach the canyon floor due to the steep terrain in all directions. So, while the above image looks like it was taken on an overcast day, the view straight up was of a bright blue sky.

The image below shows the cliff section where the recent rock fall occurred, and you can see that the trees on the canyon rim are basking in sun and have shed much of their snow.

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Sunshine above, icebox below…

For slow shutter speed waterfall photographers (like me), this icebox canyon effect means a perpetually cold canyon in winter, but also very good photo conditions. There is one exception to the shady icebox, and that’s when the sun very briefly finds its way through the upper canyon of Cold Spring Creek and lights up the top of the falls for a few minutes. Here’s what that looked like on a trip in 2015:

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Patience pays if you want to catch the winter sunburst at Tamanawas Falls!

The other story behind this photo is found in the following image. The black metal wand is actually part of a tripod leg (and possibly a piece of my pride, too) that snapped off when I took a fairly long, unscheduled slide down the ice-covered slopes near the falls that day.

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Winter gear, somewhat intact…

My mistake was trying to get a little too close for a different angle on the falls, and my humility was only magnified by the fact that a young snowshoeing family watched the whole thing unfold in front of them. As I pretended to calmly fold up my mangled tripod as if it were all a planned event, I overheard their young son say to his parents “Woah! Did you see that man crash and burn??” Yes, I’m afraid everyone did..!

The Zazzle calendar format I’ve been using for the past couple of years also offer a back page, so I’ve continued to use that for wildflower photos that otherwise wouldn’t make it into the calendar.

From the top left for the 2018 calendar, reading right, they are Arrowleaf Balsamroot, Mariposa Lily, Oregon Sunshine, Bicolor Triteleia, Paintbrush, Lupine, Tiger Lily, Larkspur and Bleeding Heart:

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[click here for a large image]

That’s it for the 2018 calendar, but what about the photos I couldn’t fit in..?

One that didn’t make it…

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Elk Cove on Mount Hood’s north side

[click here for a large image]

I’ve made at least one trip to Elk Cove every summer for as long as I can remember, and have a particular spot that I always shoot from (though I also try new spots each year, too!). It’s a favorite scene, but has also been in many calendars in past years, so Elk Cove is taking the year off from the 2018 calendar.

But worse, it seemed like bad luck to use this photo, given the somewhat scary tumble I took on the way back to the trailhead later that day.

It began with staying too late on the mountain for that gorgeous early evening light, then getting waylaid on the way down the Vista Ridge Trail trail by (more!) plump huckleberries. I filled another water bottle, then hoofed it at high speed in the growing darkness, hoping to avoid digging that annoying headlamp out of my pack.

That was my final error. Just 3/4 mile from the trailhead, where the Vista Ridge Trail crosses a rocky, dusty section in the Dollar Lake Burn, I tripped on a particularly sneaky rock and went airborne, crashing into the base of a bleached snag. Fortunately for my head, I had put my arm out ahead of me in the fall. Unfortunately for my arm, it took the brunt of the blow.

It hurt a LOT, and I just laid there for a moment, trying to figure out if I was seriously hurt. Nope, all parts seemed to be functioning… except better my better judgment, of course!

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Ridiculous… but functional!

What followed was a frantic search, first for my tripod (which I had hurled into the ravine below the trail during the fall), then in my pack for my headlamp (where WAS it?) as my right forearm ballooned up to alarming dimensions. Then came a very long 3/4 mile down the trail to the car.

Once there, I was further chagrined to see that I was, in fact, the last person on the trail that day… more humble pie on the menu! Fortunately, I wasn’t more seriously injured in the fall, or worse, knocked unconscious. Gulp. I ran through a list of the emergency supplies I keep in my pack in my mind…

Meanwhile, my bloated arm was now turning purple, so I turned an extra boot sock into a makeshift wrap and packed a couple of ice bricks from the cooler. I feared a broken arm — after all, I’d broken this arm twice as a kid (don’t ask). The long drive down the mountain was “interesting” without the benefit of an opposing thumb on my sore arm, and I let out a big sigh of relief when I finally arrived at home later that night.

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The radiologist remarked on my unusually curvy bones, courtesy a pair of childhood breaks… but no break this time!

X-rays a few days later confirmed that I just had a very deep bruise (to both forearm AND pride, it turns out), and several weeks of alternating hot and cold packs followed as things gradually got back to normal.

But MORE importantly, I was able to return to the scene of the crash a couple weeks after the event and recover my tripod — yes, the tripod I purchased to replace the one I smashed at Tamanawas Falls!

Here are a couple of schematics that tell the embarrassing story:

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The scene of the crash…

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…and my poor tripod!

The Elk Cove trip was my most painful fiasco of 2017, but not the only one over the past summer. The other would belong to…

…an epic eclipse fiasco!

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Recon data for the eclipse!

You may have heard: we experience a total eclipse in WyEast Country last August! I thought long and hard about setting up camp somewhere south of Mount Hood, in the path of totality, but having taken just one day off work, decided to avoid the predicted crowds and traffic jams (which did happen!)

Instead, I set up at my beloved Owl Point, on the north edge of the Mount Hood wilderness, and just outside the path of totality (as shown in the map, above). I’m not sure what I expected, but I came prepared with two cameras and two tripods (below) to document the scene at five-minute intervals. I left home at 5 AM and was on the trail by 7:30, anticipating great things!

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Dual camera setup, weird light underway

It did turn out to be a memorable experience, but certainly not the beautiful spectacle I had imagined.

First, the strange light during the eclipse was not really pleasant — more just weird and eerie. It made sense to me later, that simply blocking out the sun mid-day would create a cast more like what we see when there’s heavy forest fire smoke in the atmosphere — harsh reddish-yellow — as opposed to the soft colors we see at sunset, when the sun’s rays are filtered through a lot more atmosphere.

I also learned what the scientists had been telling us: that even with near totality, the sun is blindingly powerful, so from this point just outside the path of totality, it was more “dimmed” than “dark” outside. That said, the birds did go quiet, as advertised. That part was surprisingly creepy.

While I plunked away at intervals with my big cameras, I also captured a few with my phone — including this panorama as totality approached. An eerie scene, yes, but what really jumped out is that I also captured the image of the sun in the lens reflections. I’ve enlarged a section, below:

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Just short of totality… note the blue dots!

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Close-up of blue dots reveals the to be reflections of the eclipse in the camera lens!

The following views capture the scene just before and during totality from Owl Point:

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The view from Owl Point just before totality… weird!

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The view from Owl Point at totality… kinda creepy!

What I found most interesting (beyond the weird colors) is that I could see the far side of the path of totality over the west shoulder of the mountain during totality. That gave me the best sense of what the event was all about, and I was glad to have experienced it, though it was definitely not what I was expecting. Just a very interesting experience.

On the way out that day in August, I took the opportunity to pick a water bottle full of plump huckleberries, and also some time to reflect on my place in the universe. I had lost a close family member in July, and a day alone on the mountain was just what I needed to sort out my feelings and replay some good memories in my mind.

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Tasty consolation prize!

The mountains are great for that sort of thing, and we’re so lucky to live in a place where we have that luxury right in our backyard.

And the huckleberries? They were converted into tasty muffins the next day!

Looking ahead to 2018

I’m looking forward to posting a few more articles in the coming year than has been my recent pace. There’s a lot to cover on the WyEast beat, and I’ll be refocusing my volunteer efforts a bit more on advocacy this year, including this blog.

The Eagle Creek recovery effort will be a recurring theme, of course. There is so much to learn from the fire, and there are many crucial choices ahead for land management, too. In particular, I’ll be weighing in on a few topics that I think our non-profit advocates have a blind spot for, or perhaps are shying away from.

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The author at Abiqua Falls a week or so ago…

Most importantly, I’ll spend as much time as I can out in WyEast Country, exploring, documenting and celebrating our precious public lands. As always, thanks for reading the blog, and I hope to see you out there, too!

See you on the trail in 2018!

Tom Kloster

WyEast Blog