White River Falls State Park

2025 Campaign Calendar..!

/ Tom Kloster / 5 Comments

2025 Campaign Calendar Cover

December brings my annual year in review as told through the images I’ve chosen for the new Mount Hood National Park Campaign calendar. It’s a collection of images from around WyEast country that captures my explorations over the past year and its published in a high-quality, oversized format by the good folks at Zazzle. You can order one here:

2025 Mount Hood National Park Campaign Calendar

As always, all proceeds go to Trailkeepers of Oregon (TKO) and you can have these calendars delivered anywhere. You may notice a Red Rock Country calendar of desert southwest images from a recent trip through the Colorado Plateau — proceeds from the is calendar to to TKO, as well! Meanwhile, here’s a deeper dive into the thirteen images I selected for this year’s calendar.

Stories behind the photos…

The cover image is also the most recent in the calendar. It’s an alpenglow view of Mount Hood’s west face taken from Lolo Pass road in early November. This is a classic spot for photography after the first few fall snowstorms, so I’m rarely alone there – a notably, I ran into Peter Marbach, one of our amazing WyEast Country professional photographers on this visit! This view came a few minutes before sunset on a crystal-clear fall evening:

Last light after an early snowfall on the mountain is the cover image of the 2025 campaign calendar

The backstory to this photo is that I had planned to shoot from a favorite spot on the east shoulder of Lolo Pass that evening. I even had my camera set up, ready to go, when a huge fog bank rolled up the West Fork Hood River valley and parked over me at Lolo Pass. It happened in less than a minute, as the photo sequence below shows:

Lolo Pass fog rolling in… setting up my tripod seems to have this effect on the weather!

It turns that topographic conditions are prime at Lolo Pass for fog events like this (sometimes becoming freezing fog). Most of these are triggered when colder, drier continental air from east of the Cascades collides with moist, marine air from west of the mountains to form very localized fog banks parked on top of the pass, with otherwise clear weather to the east and west. 

Sure enough, when I packed up and headed to a viewpoint just west of the pass, the mountain was in full view – along with the fog bank draped over Lolo Pass (below). This is where I captured the cover photo for the new calendar that day and had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Marbach! I’m still kicking myself for not getting a selfie – I’m a big fan of his amazing work.

Looking back at the Lolo Pass fog bank from the west side of the mountain

In fall and early spring, strong temperature inversions can also fill the mountain valleys on both sides of Lolo Pass with dense fog. As the sun drops down toward sunset, the valley inversion fog often surges over the pass due to its remarkably low elevation of just 3,415 feet – at least a thousand feet lower than most of the Cascade passes in Oregon.

Continuing with the fog theme, inversion valley fog is just how this photo (below) I chose for January image in the new calendar came about. This scene was captured on the east side of Mount Hood, along the lower slopes of Lookout Mountain, with the East Fork Hood River canyon filled nearly to the brim with a dense, thousand-foot thick layer of fog. The view is framed with long-needled Ponderosa Pine boughs, the signature conifer species on the east slope of the Cascades.

More fog for the January calendar image – this time in the East Fork Hood River valley

Here’s a wider view from the same area (below) showing how the fog filled the valley like a bathtub that day, thanks to a layer of cold, moist air trapped by a stable high-pressure system that was bringing all that sunshine and relatively mild temperatures directly above. On winter days like this, it’s common for temperatures in the fog zone to be hovering near freezing while temperatures above the inversion rise well into the upper 40s or even low 50s.

East Fork Hood River inversion fog and Mount Hood

Inversion fog is common on the east end of the Columbia River Gorge and is tributary valleys in winter, often with freezing temperatures that make for spectacular frost displays (and slick roads) when the inversions persist. The forests here are completely adapted to this effect, including the annual pruning that a heavy ice accumulation from persistent fog can bring. 

In this view (below), the winter advantage of Western Larch also stands out. While a few of the Larch still have their golden needles, most (like the one in the center) have already dropped their foliage for the winter, making them less susceptible to heavy winter winds and accumulations of snow and ice. Like Ponderosa Pine, Larch are also fire-resistant – making them perfectly adapted to this “fire forest” mountain ecosystem.

Fog swirling through an east side forest of Larch, true firs, Douglas fir and Ponderosa pine

The fog was sloshing around the East Fork valley that day as I watched and captured the changing scenes. While the overall inversion layer is generally flat, there are waves in the upper surface of the fog what wash “ashore” along the valley walls as the inversion air pressure gradient rolls across the surface of the fog layer. It’s mesmerizing to watch this effect from just above “shore level” as the waves surge below.

This final view was taken from the same spot as the above calendar image, and it shows an approaching wave of fog that would soon overtop the spot where I had set up my camera for these images. Once it engulfed me, the air temperature nearly 20 degrees in just a few minutes!

The mountain a few minutes before the ocean of fog inundated this spot!

Winter can be long and grey on the west side of the mountains, but if you know Oregon’s weather patterns you can often spot conditions when the east side of the mountains will be bright and sunny, even as rain falls on the west side. A favorite retreat for me on these days is the lower Deschutes River Canyon, less than two hours from Portland. 

Despite the still-cool temperatures, I prefer to visit the Deschutes River in late winter, when few people are there, and the canyon slopes are green with emerging spring growth and the Alders turn yellow, then rusty-red with catkins. For the February image in the new campaign calendar, I chose this scene (below) near Rattlesnake Canyon that features a picturesque White Alder just coming into its late winter bloom.

White Alder providing winter color along the Deschutes River for the February calendar image 

Here’s another winter scene along the Deschutes with a mature grove of White Alder (below) growing along the riverbank. White Alder are not widespread in Oregon, and mostly limited to the Willamette Valley, eastern Columbia River Gorge (including the lower Deschutes Canyon) and the Siskiyous in Southern Oregon, Their range overlaps the Red Alder, its close cousin, that grows along the Pacific coast and extends as far inland as the Willamette Valley, where the two species meet.

White Alder (left) in winter along the Deschutes

Seen up close, both the male and female catkins of White Alder come into view. In this February photo (below), the male catkins are the long, pendulous blossoms and the green female catkins are still in bud form, just beginning to emerge. The “cones” of last year’s female catkins can still be seen, too. They are the dark ovals that resemble tiny pine cones when they open and dry to a dark brown color in fall. Because White Alder contains both male and female flowers on the same tree, they rely only on wind to pollinate, and the desert country east of Mount Hood provides plenty fo that!

White Alder catkins emerging in February

This view of a typical section of the Lower Deschutes canyon (below) shows just how important the White Alder groves that line the shore are to the ecosystem. They are the only sizable trees in this desert landscape, and they provide essential wildlife habitat along the river. Both Red and White Alder are also nitrogen-fixing trees, enriching the soil for other plants wherever they grow.

White Alder groves line the lower Deschutes River Canyon in winter

Another surprise on this winter trip to the Lower Deschutes were the many flowing tributary waterfalls that are dry for much of the year. This unnamed, two-tier waterfall near Trestle Bend is dropping into a grove of White Alder (below).

Season waterfall dropping into the Deschutes canyon in winter

While I’ve known for some time that Rocky Mountain Bighorn Sheep live in the Lower Deschutes canyon, I had not seen them until this trip last February, when I spotted two herds high above the river, just upstream from Rattlesnake Canyon. Both were bachelor herds working their way downstream, along the upper slopes of the canyon (below). 

Bighorn Sheep in the lower Deschutes River canyon

Bighorn Sheep are a welcome sight in the Deschutes River canyon, not just because they’re beautiful to see and watch, but because they’re also an indicator of ecosystem health. Bighorns are highly sensitive to human activity, so their presence here reflects the continuing efforts by the Bureau of Land Management and Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife to expand habitat protection for these animals in Oregon’s desert country.

Bighorn Sheep in the lower Deschutes River canyon

This trip was my second to the Lower Deschutes last winter, and I did have a practical mission for returning. On the first trip I had come frighteningly close to dropping a wheel over the edge of a paved section of the river access road, where a landslide has taken a big bite out of it. When I pulled over to take a look, I was spooked by the realization that going off the road here would have sent me 200 feet down the landslide scar, and directly into the river! 

So, one week later I came armed with a can of white paint to (at least temporarily) mark off a shy distance for drivers passing north along the road. Hopefully, the land managers didn’t mind…

Scary landslide damage to the Deschutes River Road!

This aerial view of the landslide scar from Google Earth (the image below is from 2022) shows just how sketchy the situation is, and that there are really two slides at work, here. The larger slide on the right is the one picture above, where the roadway has been seriously compromised.

Aerial view of the Deschutes River Road landslides in 2022 (Google Earth)

For the March calendar image, I moved to the Columbia River Gorge and Tanner Creek. It’s a place that I describe as the “Gorge on the half-shell”, as this spectacular 2-mile loop trail along to Wahclella Falls has all of the elements of a classic Gorge hike: towering basalt cliffs, a rushing stream with thundering waterfalls, wispy, impossibly tall tributary waterfalls, old-growth Douglas Fir and Western Redcedar, fern-covered talus slopes and lush green moss on seemingly every surface. Throw in four unique footbridges (one where you can reach out and touch a waterfall) and it’s a perfect introduction to the Gorge.

In past years, I have included a favorite scene captured from a viewpoint high above the falls, showing a couple of the tributary waterfalls dropping into the deep gorge that Tanner Creek has carved. I captured the scene once again this year (below), but wanted to try something different for 2025.

Wahclella Falls in the Columbia River Gorge

This year I opted for the view from in front of the falls (below), taken from the long footbridge that can spotted in the previous photo. From this streamside perspective, a young Western Redcedar growing directly in front of the falls, and will soon block the view. So, for this year I embraced the photo-bombing tree and framed it to be directly silhouetted by the falls while it’s still short enough not to completely block the view.

Wahclella Falls and the upstart Western Redcedar tree are featured as the March calendar image

How long before the tree eclipses the view from the footbridge? Here’s a comparative view of this young upstart, and you can see that it will clearly block the falls from this vantage point in the next decade or so… if it survives! That’s an open question, as this little tree is growing quite close to Tanner Creek, and there’s a reason the largest trees near the falls are on higher ground. Tanner Creek is big and rowdy in winter, and regularly scours the streambanks along its course in high water, easily carrying away whole trees in its wake. The giant logjam in the earlier, wide view of the falls is testament to the stream’s power.

The upstart cedar at Wahclella Falls

[click here for a much larger version]

For geoscience types (that would be me), the still-fresh scar from the 1973 landslide at Tanner Creek is hard to take your eyes off when hiking this trail, but in recent years there have been a series of much smaller basalt wall collapses right next to Wahclella Falls that are fascinating to track. Sometime in the past year, another 15×20 foot slab immediately west of the falls collapsed into the splash pool after being undercut by erosion from the pounding water. The photo pair below shows the new scar.

Recent wall collapse along the Wahclella Falls splash pool

This latest evidence of the ongoing erosion along Tanner Creek is a more typical example of the incremental, nearly constant deepening of the canyon that occurs through the combination of gravity and annual freeze-thaw cycles that push cracks in the basalt walls open and gradually the rock apart. 

This weaking of the rock is accelerated by the erosive action of Tanner Creek in undercutting the canyon walls, especially where the heavy basalt layers rests on the must softer Eagle Creek Formation, made up of ancient volcanic debris flows that are easily eroded by the stream. The trailside cave just below Wahclella Falls (where the new the new logjam has accumulated) is a great example of stream erosion cutting away this softer layer beneath several hundred feet of vertical basalt cliff, above. This was mostly likely what triggered the massive 1973 collapse, as well.

For the April image in the new calendar, I chose a scene that put April-blooming Balsamroot front and center. This view from the Columbia Hills State Historical Park (below) is looking west toward Mount Hood on a cool, blustery spring day.

Mount Hood and the flood-scoured lower slopes of the Columbia Gorge are featured in the April calendar image

Staying with a geology theme, this viewpoint is notable for how rocky this scene below is. It was taken at a point just below the high-water mark of the series of ice age floods that shaped much of what we know as the Gorge today. The floodwaters scoured away all but the most resistant basalt, leaving this rugged terrain we know today behind.

You can easily spot the high-water mark of the ice age floods in this part of the Gorge. Just a hundred feet uphill from the viewpoint where the previous photo was taken, the terrain suddenly softens into the rolling slopes that make up the Columbia Hills (below). There’s plenty of jagged basalt here, too, but it’s mostly buried under millennia of soil accumulation that survived the floods thanks to being mainly above the flood levels.

Gentle terrain above the ice age flood high-water level in the Columbia Hills

The surviving soil in these upper slopes of the Gorge translate into enormous wildflower meadows that draw people from around the world. Yellow Balsamroot steals the flower show in the east Gorge in spring, but in places with the Columbia Hills, they are just part of a wildflower spectacle, with Phlox (below), lupine and dozens of other wildflowers filling the gaps between the showy Balsamroot.

Spring wildflower gardens in the Columbia Hills

Each time I visit places the east Gorge in spring, I make it a goal to spot a few of these co-stars in the flower show that I might not have noticed before. To my surprise, my visit last spring included Ballhead Waterleaf, a lush plant that grows throughout the west, but is typically found in moist spots. Yet, this colony (below) had found a shady slope beneath a pair of Bigleaf Maple trees with just enough groundwater to help them thrive in this desert environment.

This Ballhead Waterleaf found a shaded niche in the Columbia Hills

Another striking wildflower was new to me on that trip, a lovely plant called Whitestem Frasera (below). It was just coming into bloom and still in bud when I was there, but in a couple weeks would have clusters of blue flowers rising above the beautiful foliage. This is one of many species that is typically found well east of the Cascades, but makes its way well into the Columbia River Gorge where conditions are right.

Whitestem Fraseria still in bud in the Columbia Hills

Still more surprising on that trip were several Cushion Fleabane (below) colonizing the old access road that forms the first mile or so of the Crawford Oaks trail in the Columbia Hills. These little plants thrive in fine gravels, and the old roadbed provides that for them, now that traffic is mostly limited to hiking boots.

Tiny Cushion Fleabane in the Columbia HIlls

I stayed on the east side of the mountains for the May calendar image, with a view of White River Falls (below), where one of Mount Hood’s many glacial streams carves a deep canyon through sagebrush country and make a spectacular leap over a wide basalt cliff on the way to its confluence with the Deschutes River, just downstream. The falls and its lower canyon are protected as part of White River Falls State Park.

White River Falls during spring runoff in the May calendar image

This spectacular view of the main falls is best in spring, when runoff is high. The upper viewpoint is easily accessible, too – just a few hundred feet from the trailhead, with some of the path paved. But the deep gorge below the main falls hides still more waterfalls that make it well worth the steep hike into the canyon, despite the choppy descent along a long set of deteriorating stairs!

The stairway to White River heaven…

The lower tier of the main falls is unofficially called Celestial Falls (below) and forms a perfect punchbowl between walls of basalt. When winter temperatures drop below freezing, this natural bowl can become a mass of ice built up from the waterfall spray.

Celestial Falls on the White River, just below the main White River falls

Continue a bit further downstream on an increasingly unofficial trail, past the ruins of the early 1900s hydroelectric plant that once operated here, and the White River makes a third, smaller plunge into another, larger punchbowl at the lower falls (below). This might be my favorite spot in the canyon, as the lower falls and its deep pool are framed with wildflowers in spring, sprinkled among the boulders on the slopes that surround the river.

Lower White River Falls

There is a lot to see at White River Falls, and because it’s a regular stop for me, my eye goes to new details on each visit. When I stopped last spring and captured the calendar image shown previously, I was surprised to notice that beavers had taken up residence in the long, slow pool near the old powerhouse, between Celestial Falls and the lower falls. They had also recently made quick work of several trunks of a White Alder clump growing along the beach (below). If you look closely at the image from last April, you can see four fresh cuts, along with at least five previously cut trunks. Just one trunk remained, then, and even this sole survivor had a fresh scar where the beavers were working to finish the job on this grove!

Busy beavers at White River Falls State Park

In the more recent image from last month – just seven months later — you can see the Alder tree is fighting back with a vengeance. Not only did that lonely last trunk survive, dozens of new shoots exploded from the stumps over the summer to replace what the beavers had hauled away. It’s a great example of the continuous cycle between beavers and streamside trees.

When I visited last month, I was also reminded of man’s impact on the falls. In low water, which extends from mid-summer into mid-winter, much of the face of White River Falls goes dry. Why? The answer is in the distance, just beyond the falls, where a long-derelict diversion dam (shown below) was built more than a century ago to direct water to the old hydroelectric penstock pipes.

Dried-up White River Falls in the low water season when the main river flow is diverted

You can get a close-up look at the ruins of the old waterworks by following a path that heads upstream from the main falls overlook. Here, the diversion dam and abandoned canals that were once the headworks (below) to an elaborate pipe system are still diverting the river, but only to a side channel that spills around the main falls, as the pipe system was largely removed decades ago.

Derelict White River Falls diversion works depriving White River Falls its full spectacle

My hope is that Oregon State Parks officials will someday breach the old dam and restore the falls to its original channel year-round, instead of waiting for the White River to do the job (and it will, eventually).

For June, I chose another east-side image for the calendar. This view of Eightmile Falls (below) is where the main stream flowing from Columbia Hills State Historic Park drops over a basalt cliff as it enters the ice age flood-scoured lower reaches of the Columbia Gorge. In spring, this overlook is especially beautiful, lined with blooming Balsamroot and the creek is running strong with early season runoff.

June in the new calendar features Eightmile Falls in the Columbia Hills

Eightmile Falls is located along the Crawford Oaks trail, a relatively new access point to the park that follows a portion of the historic military road that once passed through this area. Along the way, there are views of Mount Hood and the Columbia River framed by old stone walls (below) from the early days of white settlement here in the late 1800s.

Stone walls in the Columbia Hills mark early white settlements in the area

One surprise along this section of the old military road is a grove of heritage apple trees that have somehow survived here for a century of more, in the middle of this harsh desert environment. In spring, they are covered with blossoms (below) that reveal them to be part of the human story here.

Heritage apple trees from white settlements still survive at Crawford Oaks

Another surprise along the old road are several groups of Bigleaf Maple, a species that thrives in Cascade rainforests. These unlikely trees manage to carve out a niche in this desert environment where they typically grows along basalt walls that provide both weather protection and provide groundwater seeps to help them survive hot summers.

Bigleaf Maple blossoms in the Columbia Hills

In spring, these out-of-place maples also put on an impressive flower display (above) that is easier to appreciate here, where the trees often grow just 15-20 feet high. Their foliage is at eye level, where you can see the blossoms close-up, compared to rainforest cousins where the blooms are often 70 or 80 feet above the forest floor.

For the July calendar image, I moved up into the mountains with this view (below) of the historic Cooper Spur Shelter, located along the Timberline Trail on the northeast shoulder of Mount Hood. This is among of the most iconic spots on the mountain, and it didn’t disappoint this year, with drifts of blooming yellow Buckwheat and purple Lupine framing the 1930s, Civilian Conservation Corps structure.

Cooper Spur Shelter with alpine wildflowers are featured in the July calendar image

As tough as it has been to witness the accelerating effects of global warming on Mount Hood’s glaciers in past years, the early summer view of the Eliot Glacier remains one of the most impressive sights in WyEast Country. In this view from farther up the Cooper Spur trail (below) a few weeks later, a group of hikers is silhouetted against the mountain, giving scale to the enormity of the glacier as it tumbles down the mountain.

Hikers framed against the Eliot Glacier in Summer

Many of the trails in the Cooper Spur area are as unofficial as they are historic, dating back to the earliest recreation visits to the mountain in the late 1800s and early 1900s, when the Cloud Cap Inn was in its heyday. Today, the continue to be as heavily traveled as the formal trail system. This is made possible by a largely unseen corps of unofficial trail tenders that have helped tend to these routes for decades, as well as the official Timberline and Cooper Spur routes. I know, because I’ve adopted a few of these trails, and I always see the handiwork of others when I’m working there.

Last July, my unofficial trail work focused on retiring a persistent shortcut just below the crest of the South Eliot Moraine. It’s caveman work, as you can see in the schematic below – simply covering the shortcut with rocks large enough to discourage people from taking the shortcut. It’s a never-ending task, as new routes are formed instantly in this open, loose alpine terrain when just one group hikers decides to leave the established trail and make their own way. 

Trail tending along the South Eliot moraine

In the era of cell phones and GPS, these shortcuts are becoming more numerous and persistent. Why? Because the errant digital tracks from lost hikers following dead-ends or short cuts are blindly added to the big data commercial websites that cater to hikers. It’s among the many reasons to avoid commercial apps and social media for hiking guidance, especially when we have TKO’s free Oregon Hikers Field Guide for trails in Oregon and Southwest Washington, a non-profit resource written by hikers, for hikers.

The Cooper Spur Shelter, itself, was also in need of some volunteer tending this year, as the stovepipe in the south corner of the structure has rusted through and that seems to have led to a collapse of the stone wall surrounding it (below). 

Recent collapse of the south shoulder of the Cooper Spur shelter

While it’s possible the U.S. Forest Service will repair this, I’m going to guess that it will fall to volunteers that I’ve seen working on the structure in the past. I’ve come across them many times over the years, as early as this view (below) taken 22 years ago, when a group of volunteers was repairing that same south corner of the building. Like most of the trails around Cooper Spur, the shelter also represents an ongoing volunteer effort to ensure it survives.

Volunteers repairing the south wall of the shelter more than 20 years ago

For the August image in the new calendar, I chose the view from Inspiration Point (below), a rocky spot along the Cloud Cap Road that provides a sweeping view of the Eliot Branch canyon and Mount Hood’s steep northeast side. This has been a popular tourist stop since visitors begin arriving at the Cooper Spur Inn by horse and buggy in the 1890s.

The August calendar image features this classic view of Mount Hood from Inspiration Point

Inspiration Point still offers one of the finest views of both the Coe and Eliot glaciers, the two largest on the mountain. The Coe is the lesser known of the two due to its remote location on the rugged north face of the mountain, and this viewpoint is one of the few places with a close-up look accessible by road.

Coe Glacier from Inspiration Point

The steep, unofficial trail to Inspiration Point has been on my list of adopted trails for nearly 20 years, and despite its short length, keeping this little path intact has been a challenge – especially in the years since the 2011 Dollar Lake Fire swept through and left many standing snags that are still periodically falling across the trail.

If you’re not an avid hiker and looking for a short side trip on your way to Cloud Cap, watch for the following signpost at an obvious switchback in the road at about the 3 mile mark (below). From the sign, the trail drops roughly 300 feet to the rocky overlook of Inspiration Point.

Inspiration Point trail marker 

What does the “1” stand for in this unofficial trail marker? It dates back to a brochure and map once published by the Forest Service that described the history of the Cloud Cap area by numbered waypoints along the road. This signpost and an old, mounted wagon wheel further up the road are all that remains from that effort to share the local history. I do plan to feature the brochure in a future blog article, along with mileage waypoints to guide visitors, in lieu of the old markers that were once here. 

Inspiration Point trail marker… a reminder of an interpretive story that was once told here

For the best view from Inspiration Point, the short trail is a must, but there was a time when you could take in the view from road as you motored your Model T up to Cloud Cap Inn. In fact, an old guardrail that I think might be the original shown in a 1920s postcard view (below) is still there – albeit with a few trees now partly blocking the view.

The view from Inspiration Point – then and now

For the September calendar image, I stayed on the mountain and chose an early fall scene at WyEast Basin (below). This photo was taken on a hike in October of this year along the Timberline Trail, from WyEast Basin to Elk Cove, when the huckleberry foliage had turned a brilliant crimson and the alpine meadows to shades of yellow and gold.

WyEast Basin on Mount Hood’s north side is the September image

This photo (below) from the descent into Elk Cove is also from that day, showing the light dusting of early snow that had fallen on the summit the day before.

The Timberline Trail approach to Elk Cove lights up with color in autumn

I considered using this view of the upper meadows at Elk Cove (below) from that October trip for the calendar, before realizing just how many times I’ve featured Elk Cove over the years! Lovely as it is, this year I went for a change of scenery with the WyEast Basin scene.

Elk Cove in autumn with an early dusting of snow on the mountain

One pleasant surprise at Elk Meadows this year was a new trail sign located at the Timberline Trail junction with the Elk Cove Trail. The old sign had pretty much disintegrated in recent years, causing a fair amount of confusion for hikers, based on the number of times I helped people find their way at that junction. 

One benefit of coming to Elk Cove every year is the opportunity to track changes there over time. This includes trail signs, and in a place where the winter snowpack regularly reaches 10 feet or more in winter, it’s no wonder that these signs take a beating. As you can see from the photo sequence below, the two small signs pointing to “campsites” get the award for most durable. They were already quite weathered in 2010 when the previous “new” trail sign was installed. By 2023, the “new” main sign from 2010 was falling apart. This year, both the main trail sign and the “no camping in meadows” sign were completely replaced, while the two “campsites” signs are still doing their job. 

Elk Cove trail signs over the years

On the hike back from Elk Cove, I stopped to collect some trail condition photos at WyEast Basin, where the growing stream of hikers has begun to take its toll on the meadow. Some of this is the result of hikers simply stepping off the trail when passing one-another on a busy section of the Timberline Trail, but the widening tread is mostly the result of the original trail becoming trenched from heavy use, then becoming a muddy ditch when snowmelt fills it early in the hiking season. Hikers then opt to walk on either side to keep their boots dry, gradually destroying the meadow vegetation in the process. 

This schematic (below) shows the original trail at the center (now a trench) as a white dashed line and shoulder paths in red dashed lines, where hikers have already destroyed an alarming amount of meadow vegetation.

Growing damage from trail overuse at WyEast Basin

Over time, this parallel use paths on both sides of the trenched trail will turn into a muddy slog, too, resulting in an ever-widening trail across a beautiful meadow. I’m hoping to find a way for TKO volunteers to restore this trail with a different design that anticipates the muddy season, perhaps even something as bold as a turnpike, or raised section of trail between parallel logs that is designed to keep the trail tread dry by elevating it above the surrounding ground. Below is a recent example from McIver State Park.

Trailkeepers of Oregon (TKO) volunteers building a turnpike on soggy ground at McIver State Park (photo: TKO)

[click here for a larger version]

The second photo in the above example shows a drainage features, one of the potential benefits of a turnpike at WyEast Basin, as the Timberline Trail crosses at least three small streams that meander through the meadow. However, turnpikes are typically built from found materials near the trail (logs, rocks and soil), which could prove to be challenging in an alpine, wilderness environment. 

For the October image in the new calendar, I went back to Wahcella Falls. It’s not the first time a waterfall has appeared twice in a single calendar, but it was the combination of fall colors and a person in the photo – a rarity for me – that made the case. Look closely (below) and you’ll see a hiker in front of the falls, taking in the magnificent view.

Wahclella Falls (and a hiker) with fall colors is featured as the October image in the calendar

Earlier in this article, I included a photo of Wahclella Falls from an off-trail viewpoint taken in early spring. By late October each year, the same view lights up with gold and yellow fall colors (below) that are becoming even more prevalent in the aftermath of the 2017 Eagle Creek Fire that swept through this canyon. That’s thanks to the rapid recovery of broadleaf trees like Bigleaf and Vine maple that are taking advantage of the open forest conditions created by the fire, and bouncing back from roots and stumps that survived the burn.

Fall colors at Wahclella Falls have become more dramatic since the 2017 fire

Bigleaf Maple are the real stars in this comeback story, with most growing from the surviving stump of a parent tree killed by the fire. The new access to sunlight and explosive growth also makes for super-sized foliage, with individual leaves measuring nearly a foot across (below) underscoring the common name for these essential trees.

Biglieaf maple leaves are growing to gigantic proportions in the post-fire recovery

When I hike this trail, I see the handiwork of Trailkeepers of Oregon (TKO) crews everywhere, as TKOs volunteers have done much to rescue the trail in the aftermath of the 2017 fire. This includes a streamside section where a huge, post-fire logjam of killed trees accumulated just below Wahclella Falls, and piled so high they spilled onto the trail, itself. TKO and Pacific Crest Trail Association volunteers used a combination of saws and ropes to clear the way back in 2021, and today the logjam is still there to remind us of the power of this stream.

TKO crews clearing the logjam from the Wahclalla Falls trail in 2021

TKO volunteers also worked with the Forest Service to build a rustic set of stairs where the trail had collapsed near the falls, leaving a sketchy scramble through this gap in the rocks for hikers to navigate. The rock steps not only make the trail more accessible to everyday hikers, the add another interesting element and a bit of whimsey for young hikers (below) visiting this family-friendly trail for the first time.

Rustic steps built by TKO volunteers at Wahclella Falls area favorite with young hikers

For the November calendar image, I returned to the east side of the mountain and chose a scene captured along the Lookout Mountain Road in late fall. This is the least-visited, less familiar side of the mountain to Portlanders, with a broad, sweeping profile that looks more like other Cascade volcanoes, and contrasts with the familiar, pyramid-shaped summit the mountain presents to the millions who live west of the mountain.

Yellow and gold Larch framing Mount Hood are featured as the November image in the calendar

When the conditions are right, the Western Larch here have turned to their yellow and gold autumn colors and the first temperature inversions have arrived, filling the East Fork Hood River valley with fog. The effect can be quite dramatic. On this day the fog layer was growing especially fast, and surged over me in just the view minutes (below) I had to set up my camera!  

Fast moving fog at Lookout Mountain!

Having been fogged out on that chilly day, I followed another November ritual in the mountains and collected some greens for holiday decorating. Normally, I look for Noble Fir boughs, but on this day, I gathered some beautiful, blue-tinted Engelmann Spruce greens. You can easily distinguish spruce from other conifers by their sharp needles, making them a bit prickly to work with as holiday greens. Nonetheless, they made for some lovely Christmas arrangements at home!

Engelmann Spruce holiday greens..? Prickly!

Is it legal to collect holiday greens within Mount Hood National Forest? Absolutely, but check their website to see if a permit is required. For 2024, permits are waived, and you may collect up to 25 pounds (that’s a lot of boughs!) in a season. The main restriction is Whitebark Pine, which are now a protected species and may not be collected or cut in any way. These trees only grow at and above timberline, but if you’re unsure of how to identify them, just avoid cutting any pine boughs and stick with fir trees. Leave no trace also applies, so collect boughs as if you were pruning trees in your garden, with cuts made as discreetly as possible.

For December, I chose a fairly unconventional image for the new calendar. Continuing with the fog theme, I selected this photo from the Bennett Pass area, where dueling valley fog banks in both the White River and East Fork Hood River valleys were colliding at the pass. The effect in the ancient Noble Fir forests just above Bennett Pass was mesmerizing, with patching of blue sky opening and closing overhead as waves of fog rolled through the big trees.

Ancient Noble Fir forest rising into the fog near Bennett Pass are featured as the December image in the new calendar

Fog bank filling the East Fork Hood River Valley as viewed from above Bennett Pass

How old are these trees? Some are at least 400 years old. We know this because the area saw heavy logging in the 1970s and 1980s, and many of the giant stumps left from that unfortunate era still remain to tell the story through their tree rings. Fortunately, not all of the big trees were cut, and some truly magnificent old-growth Noble Fir stands remain today.

Noble Fir giants in the fog near Bennett Pass

Noble Fir giants and Mountain Hemlock seedlings in the fog near Bennett Pass

On a more practical note, I was encouraged on that trip to see the Forest Service continuing to gradually improve visitor facilities on the mountain, including a new toilet at the popular winter trailhead at Bennett Pass. While pit toilets might not be a joy for anyone to use, they are essential at busy trailheads, especially for families with young kids. Modern toilets like the new facility at Bennett Pass are also accessible for visitors with mobility devices, removing a very real barrier to our public lands.

New toilets at Bennett Pass – with a view!

Finally, the back cover of the new campaign calendar features some of the wildflower highlights captured in WyEast Country over the past year (below). Some might be familiar, but I do have one confession to make: the Prickley Pear cactus in the center square wasn’t photographed anywhere near Mount Hood. Instead, it’s over in the John Day country, where I photographed this particular colony near the Painted Hills last spring. 

Wildflower mashup on the back of the 2025 calendar

Here’s a closer look at one of the cactus blossoms from that trip (below), showing the unlikely contrast of impossibly delicate flowers emerging from a maze of thorns that make these tough plants so fascinating:

Brittle Prickley Pear near the Painted Hills

Why include this, then? Because I am admittedly obsessed with our native cacti, and determined to finally photograph them where they grow here in WyEast Country. I have two promising leads on that front that I’ll be following up on this spring. Both are near The Dalles and apparently hidden in plain sight, but I suspect I will have some searching to do!

Where the Prickley Pear grows..?

I’ve spent a lot of time over the years hunting for cactus in Oregon. As spectacular and flamboyant as these flowers are when in bloom, the plants are surprisingly well-camouflaged and hard to find when they’re not… unless you step on one! So, more to come in this story.

…and to spare you from scrolling back to the top, here’s the link if you’d like to order the 2025 campaign calendar featuring these new photos:

2025 Mount Hood National Park Campaign Calendar

… and all proceeds from calendar sales go to Trailkeepers of Oregon (TKO), and they can be delivered anywhere

Looking ahead to 2025

Thanks for reading this far! Mea culpa: I began 2024 with high hopes of a lot of WyEast Blog articles, but my day job and real-life demands got the better of me this year, once again! Therefore, I’m recycling that goal for 2025, and I’ve got some fun topics that I’m eager to dive into. 

These include some new digging I’ve done on a massive landslide that completely rerouted one of Mount Hood’s major rivers, plus some new research on what many call “Indian pits” or “vision quest pits” – those mysterious pits found in talus slopes all through the Gorge and in spots around Mount Hood. I’ve also got a history piece on a surprising road race with a WyEast connection, and much more beyond these…time permitting!

The old man and the mountain..

As always, thanks for patiently checking back when my posts become infrequent, putting up with the typos and grammatical errors, and — more importantly — thank you for being a friend of our Mountain and Gorge. I hope to see you on the trail sometime in 2025!

________________

Tom Kloster | December 2024

White River Falls 3.0

/ Tom Kloster / 4 Comments

White River Falls during spring runoff

Every year, a growing number of summer visitors flock to White River Falls State Park to witness the spectacle pictured above, only to find a naked basalt cliff where the falls should be! The spring runoff has long since subsided by mid-summer, and field irrigation in Tygh Valley also draws heavily from the tributary streams that feed the river during the dry season. Worse, part of what’s left when this federally protected Wild and Scenic River finally reaches the park is diverted by a century-old waterworks into a side channel that bypasses the main falls. It’s a sad sight compared to the powerful show in winter and spring, but it doesn’t have to be this way.

Many of these same visitors hike down to see the historic, century-old powerhouse at the base of the falls that once used the diverted river water to spin some of Oregon’s earliest hydroelectric turbines. Though mostly in ruins, the site is fascinating – yet the trail to it is a slick, sketchy goat path coming apart at the seams that hikers struggle with. This short hike doesn’t have to be this way.

The hidden lower tier and punchbowl is called Celestial Falls

Lower White River Canyon

Some hikers push beyond the historic powerhouse to the lesser-known lower falls, and then still further, to a dramatic view into the lower White River canyon. Here, the river finally has carved a rugged path to its confluence with the mighty Deschutes, just a few miles downstream. It’s a striking and beautiful riverside hike, but the “trail” consists of a maze of user paths that are gradually destroying the drifts of wildflowers along the canyon floor. This trail doesn’t have to be this way, either.

Lesser-known Lower White River Falls

In recent years, White River Falls State Park has also become a popular stop for cyclists touring the route from Maupin to Tygh Valley, then looping back through the Deschutes River canyon. While the park has an excellent restroom and day-use picnic area that would make for a terrific stopover, overnight camping is not allowed, even for cyclists camping in tents. This, too, does not have to be this way.

The increased popularity has begun to noticeably wear on the park. The good news is that in the past couple years Oregon Parks and Recreation (OPRD) rangers and the park’s  dedicated volunteer park hosts have stepped up their efforts to care for the park infrastructure and get a handle on vandalism (mostly tagging) that had plagued the historic powerhouse. Still, much more is needed to unlock the amazing potential this park holds as a premier destination. It’s time to reimagine White River Falls. 

Historic White River Powerhouse just downstream from the falls

[click here for a larger view]

Turbines inside the powerhouse a few years ago, before vandalism began to take a heavy toll. Oregon State Parks has since closed off entry with heavy barriers

[click here for a larger view]

As it stands, the park lacks a comprehensive vision for how its natural and historic wonders can best be protected, while still keeping pace with ever-growing numbers of visitors. It’s a surprisingly big and mostly undiscovered place, and an updated blueprint could achieve both outcomes: protecting and restoring the natural and historic landscape for future generations, while also making it accessible for all to explore and enjoy. While the park includes a surprising amount of backcountry now, White River Falls also holds the potential to become a much larger park that restores and showcases the unique desert landscape and ecosystem found here.

This article includes several proposals for new trails and campsites to better manage the growing demand and provide a better experience for visitors, expanding the park to better protect the existing resources, and even a re-plumbing of the waterworks to allow White River Falls to flow in summer as it once did before it was diverted more than a century ago. 

An Unexpected Past

Grist mill at White River Falls in the late 1800s. This rare view reveals a northern cascading segment of the falls to have been part of the natural scene, and not created by the power plant diversion channel that was constructed in the early 1900s.

White River Falls was never envisioned as a park by the white migrants who settled in Tygh Valley and Wasco County in the mid-1800s. In their day, waterfalls were viewed mostly as obstacles to river navigation or power sources to run mills. The falls surely had a more spiritual and harmonious value to native peoples who had lived, fished and gathered along its banks for millennia before white settlers arrived. The Oregon Trail passed through Tygh Valley, and soon the new migrants had cleared the valley and began to build irrigation ditches to bring water to the cleared farmland. By the late 1800s, a grist mill was built at White River Falls, powered by the falling water.

By the early 1900s, the grist mill was replaced with a much more ambitious project, and the abandoned hydroelectric plant we see today was constructed at the base of the falls in 1910. A concrete diversion channel was built where the grist mill stood, and a low diversion dam brought a steady flow from the White River into a series of pipes and penstocks that powered the turbines below. Power from the new plant was carried north to The Dalles, one of the earliest long-distance hydroelectric transmission projects in the country.

Aerial view of the White River Powerhouse and network of penstocks taken in the early 1900s. The group of structures at the top of the photo were located where today’s picnic area and restrooms are now. This photo also shows the concrete dam holding the settling pond, in the upper right. This structure still exists today. The diversion dam is partly visible at the left edge of the photo, with its diversion pipe leading first to the settling pond, then to the lower penstock pipe leading down to the powerhouse at the bottom of this photo.

The White River is a glacial stream that flows from a glacier by the same name on Mount Hood’s south slope, just above Timberline Lodge. Because of its glacial origin, the hydro plant included a large settling pond to separate the fine, grey glacial till that gives the White River its name. The settling pond still survives today (albeit dry), along with the diversion dam and much of the pipe and penstock system. These features are all visible in the aerial photo (above) and described in the interpretive schematic (below) provided by Oregon State Parks.

[click here for a larger view]

After fifty years of operation, the powerhouse had become obsolete and fallen into disrepair, and by the early 1960s it was abandoned. Giant new dams on the Columbia and Deschutes rivers had long since eclipsed it, and the constant chore of separating glacial sediments from the river water made it costly to operate. 

How white is the White River? This recent aerial view shows the White River flowing from the upper left corner toward its confluence with the Deschutes River, the wide, dark stream flowing from the lower left. When the crystal clear waters of the Deschutes mix with the silty glacial water of the White River during peak glacier melt in late summer, the result is a pale blue-green Deschutes River downstream from the confluence (flowing toward the middle right)

The site was an unlikely candidate for a new park, given the dilapidated buildings and pipelines scattered across the area. But thankfully, the raw power and beauty of White River Falls made the case for a second act as a public park and nature preserve borne from an industrial site. For many years, the reimagined White River Falls was simply the quiet “Tygh Valley Wayside”, and was way off the radar of most Oregonians. It only drew a few visitors and only the gravel parking area and main falls overlook were improved to a park standard.

Panoramic view of Lower White River Falls during spring high water. The basalt bench to the left marks where flood events on the river have repeatedly overtopped this ledge, scouring the bedrock

The park had one (hopefully) final scare in its natural recovery just over a decade ago, when Wasco County pitched a new hydroelectric plant at the site, promising “minimal impact” on the natural setting. Thankfully, Oregon State Parks expressed major concerns and the proposal died a quiet death. You can read an earlier blog article on this ill-conceived proposal here.

Over the past two decades, growth in the Wasco County and increased interest from Oregon’s west side population in the unique desert country east of Mount Hood has finally put White River Falls on the recreation map. Today, the parking area overflows with visitors on spring and summer weekends, and the park has become a deservedly well-known destination. The rugged beauty of the area, combined with the fascinating ruins from another era make it one of Oregon’s most unique spots. These are the elements that define the park, and must also be at the center of a future vision for this special place.

A new vision for the next century: White River Falls 3.0

  1. New & Sustainable Trails

Weekend visitors skittering down the steep, slick path to the old powerhouse

The trail into the canyon as it exists today is deceptive, to say the least. It beings as a wide, paved path that crosses an equally wide plank bridge below the old sediment pond dam. Once across, however, it quickly devolves. Visitors are presented with a couple of reasonable-looking dead-ends that go nowhere (I will revisit one of those stubs in a moment), while a much more perilous option is the “official” trail, plunging down a slippery-in-all-seasons (loose scrabble in summer, mud in winter) goat path. Still, the attraction of the river below — and especially the fascinating powerhouse ruins – beckon, so most soldier on.

Soon, this sketchy trail reaches a somehow steeper set of deteriorating steps, built long ago with railroad ties and concrete pads. And still, the river continues to beckon, so most folks continue the dubious descent. The “official” trail then ends abruptly at the old powerhouse, where a popular beach along the river is a favorite wading spot in summer. This is the turnaround spot for most visitors. The return up the steps and scrabble of the goat path is challenging in any season, but it’s particularly daunting in summer, when desert heat reflecting off this south-facing wall of the canyon is blazing hot.

Hikers navigating the steep, deteriorating stairway section of the “official” goat path into White River canyon

Looking back at the loose cobbles and scrabble that make up the upper section of the “official” trail into the canyon. Two hikers at the top of the trail consider their fate before continuing the descent

The stairway section has deteriorated enough that hikers are simply bypassing it, which is damaging the slope and causing the stairs to come apart still faster

The railroad tie steps were filled with poured concrete pads at some point, making this a very difficult repair job. In the long term, this section of the “official” trail simply needs to be bypassed with a properly graded route and the old goat path turned back to sagebrush

Beyond the “official” trail, a user path skirts a fenced river gauge, then slips through a patch of waist-deep sagebrush before dropping down to a beautiful streamside flat. Here, Ponderosa pine survive in the deep sand along the riverbank and rugged basalt cliffs soar above the trail. This path soon passes Lower White River Falls before ending at an impressive viewpoint looking downstream, where the White River tumbles another two miles through a deep canyon to its confluence with the Deschutes River.

The “unofficial” trail below the powerhouse was little known just ten years ago, but today it is quickly devolving into a tangle of user paths as an increasing number of visitors push further into the canyon. The flat canyon floor is quickly becoming a maze of these social paths, greatly impacting the desert wildflowers that grow here.

In contrast to the “official” trail, the lower “unofficial” trail rambles at a pleasant grade along various user paths through a beautiful canyon floor framed by towering basalt cliffs

After flying under the radar, the lower canyon has been “discovered”, with a maze of new social paths forming in the past few years that are gradually expanding and destroying the wildflowers that grow here

So, how to fix this? The first step is to improve both the “official” and “unofficial” trail sections to something resembling proper trails. The official route is a tall order, and in the long term, it really needs to be retired and replaced with a correctly graded trail that can be safely navigated and doesn’t trigger heart attacks for visitors making their way back out of the canyon. In the near term, however, simply repairing the damaged stairs and adding a few more in a couple of especially steep sections would buy some time until a better trail can be built.

The unofficial, lower trail is a much easier fix. It simply needs a single route with improved tread and modest stone steps in a couple spots, while also retiring the many braided user paths that have formed. The new interest in the lower trail underscores a more significant need, however, and that’s the main focus of this trail proposal: this hike is simply too short to be satisfying for many visitors.

The solution? Build a return loop from the current terminus of the lower, unofficial trail that traverses the canyon rim back to the trailhead. This simple concept is shown in the map, below.

[click here for a larger view]

The proposed return trail (shown in red) would be approximately one-half mile long, making the new loop about one mile in length – short enough for families and casual hikers, yet long enough to make for a more immersive experience. The loop would also allow hikers to avoid climbing back up the goat path section of the existing trail, buying some time until that segment can be rebuilt. The upper end of the proposed loop would actually follow the well-defined game path that many hikers assume to be the main trail where it now connects at the top of the “official” goat path.

Another surprise feature of the loop? The new route would not only provide spectacular views into the canyon and its waterfalls from above, but Mount Hood also appears on the horizon, rising directly above White River Falls. While most hikers would likely continue to first follow the existing trail to the old powerplant, then complete the new loop from there, the rim trail could also work in reverse for hikers looking for big views without the challenging up-and-back climb and steep steps on the existing trail. The upper end of the new rim trail would traverse at a nearly level grade to a spectacular viewpoint (shown on the map, above) that would be a fine turnaround destination just one-quarter mile from the trailhead.

One important detail of this trail concept that should be completed in the near-term is a formalized spur trail to the Celestial Falls overlook. This is an irresistible, yet extremely dangerous overlook just off the main goat path section of the “official trail”, with abrupt, vertical drop-offs and another maze of sketchy social trails. 

The stunning overlook at Celestial Falls is a scary mix of ever-expanding social trails and abrupt vertical cliffs that needs near-term attention to be stabilized and made safer for hikers

[click here for a larger view]

Much of the new return trail would follow game paths (like this one at the upper end of the proposed trail) that already traverse above the rim of the canyon.

The new rim trail would bring hikers to this spectacular birds-eye view of White River Falls and Mount Hood on the horizon (Oregon State Parks)

The crux to completing the new loop is a short section of new trail that would climb from the current terminus of the “unofficial” trail to the rim of the canyon, where the new route would then traverse at a nearly even grade back to the trailhead. The crux section follows a sloped ridge through a gap in the canyon rimrock, as is shown in the close-up map (below). 

[click here for a larger view]

The end of the user path in the lower canyon marks the start of the proposed new trail, where a set of switchbacks would ascend the slope to the left to the canyon rim and return to the trailhead

The crux section would require some switchbacks and thoughtful trail planning, but it is no steeper than the terrain covered by the “official” trail at the start of the hike. What would it take to make this trail vision happen? More on that toward the end of this article.

2. Accessible Trails

Did you know that rural Oregon has a higher percentage of elderly and mobility limited folks in its population than the state’s major urban areas? Yet, even in our most urban areas, Oregon is woefully short on accessible trails, and the gap is even greater away from major population centers. At White River Falls, there are building blocks for a new accessible trail system that could be phased in over time to become among the finest in the state.

The existing parking area is gravel and would need at least a couple paved spots to be considered accessible

This paved path starts (inexplicably) about 50 feet from the edge of the gravel parking area and leads to the fenced, main viewpoint (in the distance)

Currently, the parking area and initial approach to the main falls overlook is a combination of gravel and mowed lawn that falls short of an accessible. Just a short distance from the gravel parking area, a paved path leads to the fenced overlook of the falls, where interpretive signs tell some of the unique history of the area. It wouldn’t take much to make this viewpoint fully accessible.

The wide plank bridge that crosses below the old settling pond dam (left) and marks the east end of the paved trail system at White River Falls. The “official” goat path down to the old powerplant begins at the far end of the plank bridge

From the main viewpoint, paved routes head off on two directions. The wide, gently sloping main route heads east, across the plank bridge and then ending abruptly where the goat path section of the main trail begins. Like the main viewpoint, this section could be curated to make the terminus at the bridge more interesting as a stopping point, including history of the concrete settlement pond dam that rises directly above the bridge and some of the penstock pipe remains that still survive here. This is also the point where signage marking the hiker trails ahead is sorely needed – including some cautions about the state of the goat path trail.

The west end of paved trail system ends here, at a profile view of the falls

Another paved trail spur heads west from the main viewpoint, along a fenced cliff to a fine profile view of the falls. The pavement ends here, and a user path continues along the fence to a view of the diversion canal that once fed river water into the old hydro plant. This section of the paved trail system is somewhat narrow and uneven, but it could also be improved with some relatively minor work, including improving the surface and creating a more intentional viewpoint of the falls.

From the end of the paving, the fencing continues west to a view of the diversion channel (center)

New interpretive signage could also be added here to tell the story of this part of the park, since this is where the original grist mill also stood. The views here include Tygh Valley, and new signage could also describe the natural history of the White River and the native peoples who lived here before white migrants settled in the area. 

Profile view of White River Falls from near the end of the paved section of the west spur. This is a fine viewpoint that could be improved to be a more accessible destination with interpretive stories about the surrounding area

Oregon State Parks has provided picnic tables at the main viewpoint in the past, but to make the existing paved routes more accommodating as accessible trails, several benches along the way would be an important addition. This is perhaps the most overlooked feature on accessible trails, yet they are especially important in a hot desert environment. The National Park Service sets the standard on this front in their parks across the American Southwest, where resting spots are prominent on all trails, especially where a spot of shade is available.

Thinking more boldly, a new accessible trail spur could be added along the nearly level grade below the main viewpoint that once carried water in huge steel pipes. Most of the pipes are gone, but a few remain to tell the story of the old power plant. This grade leads to a front-row view of the main falls that is close enough to catch spray during the spring runoff. It’s also an area where park visitors chronically (but understandably) ignore the many “AREA CLOSED” signs to take in this spectacular view. 

Fences and warning signs are no match for these Millennials, but they are right about the view: this lower viewpoint ought to be a spot that more people can enjoy

In this case, the scofflaws are right: this viewpoint ought to be open to the public, and an accessible trail spur would expand that to include all of the public. This proposed accessible spur is shown as the dotted blue line in the trail concept map (above).

Looking east along the existing paved spur to the settling pond dam and plank bridge; the proposed accessible spur trail to the lower falls viewpoint would follow a well-established bench that once held penstock pipe (now covered in blackberries in the lower right)

Another view of the proposed accessible trail spur from the plank bridge, looking west, and showing the blackberry-covered bench that the trail would follow. White River Falls is just beyond the rock outcrop in the upper right

There’s are chunks of penstock pipe along this route, and maybe these could become part of the interpretive history? This entire spur trail concept is possible only because the grade was blasted from basalt for the penstock pipes, which is a great way to connect the industrial history of the site to the park that exists today. From the lower viewpoint, those folks who we rarely provide great accessible trail experiences for would be rewarded with an exhilarating, mist-in-your-face view of White River Falls.

3. Walk-in Campsites

The word is out to cyclists that White River Falls is a perfect lunch spot on touring loops from Maupin and Tygh Valley. The restrooms were recently upgraded, the water fountain restored to include a water supply for filling bottles and there are plenty of shady picnic tables under the grove of Black Locust  and Cottonwood trees that surround the parking and picnic areas.

A growing number of these cyclists are “bikepackers” camping along a multi-day tour, often starting from as far away as Portland, and there’s new interest in bike-in campsites for these folks. Unlike a traditional car-camping format, these campgrounds require only a network of trails and simple tent sites with a picnic table. 

The modern restrooms at White River Falls State Park have been recently renovated to be accessible and are in top condition

This newly restored water fountain has a handy spigot on the back for filling water bottles (and dog dishes, as seen here)

The park has a nice spot for exactly this kind of campground just to the west of the parking lot and picnic areas. Today, it’s just a very large, mowed lawn that slopes gently toward the White River, with a nice view of Mount Hood. Creating a bike-in campground here wouldn’t take much – no underground utilities or paving would be required, just some paths and graded camp spots. The park already has on-site hosts living here from spring through fall to keep an eye on things, and that coincides with the bicycle touring season.

The wide west lawn adjacent to the main picnic area (marked by the group of trees) at White River Falls State Park

Looking toward the west lawn (and riparian Cottonwood groves, beyond) from the picnic area

Perhaps most important would be to add some trees to shade this area. Right now, the west lawn is blazing hot in summer, so more of the tough, drought-tolerant Black Locusts that grow in the picnic area could provide needed shade without requiring irrigation. Even better, our native Western Juniper would provide some shade, as well as year-round screening and windbreaks.

4. Bringing Back the Falls

From roughly mid-July until the fall rains kick in, a visit to White River Falls can be a bit deflating. Instead of a thundering cascade, the main face of the falls is often reduced to a bare basalt cliff. 

White River Falls in full glory during spring runoff

White River Falls by late summer, when most of the flow diverted away from the falls by the old waterworks system

Why is this? In part, seasonal changes in the river from spring runoff to the summer droughts that are typical of Oregon. But the somewhat hidden culprit is the low diversion dam that once directed the White River to the penstocks that fed to the old powerhouse. The hydroelectric plant is now in ruins, but during the dry months the diversion dam still pushes most of the river  into a concrete diversion channel, which then spills down the right side of the falls.

The entire flow of the White River was channeled through the diversion channel on this summer day in August 2021. At this time of year, the glacial silt that gives the river its name is most prominent

The entirety of the diversion system is now a relic, and the old dam should be breached. There are more than aesthetics involved, too. White River Falls creates a whole ecosystem in the shady canyon below, with wildflowers and wildlife drawn to this rare spot in the middle of the desert by the cool, falling water. 

The earlier image of the original grist mill shows that a side tier of the falls always existed, even before the L-shaped diversion dam was built. However, as this aerial schematic (below) shows, the natural flow of the river is straight over the falls, not over the side tier.

The diversion system at White River Falls is simple. The low, L-shaped dam at the top of this aerial view directs water to the concrete diversion channel at the right. From here, river water once flowed into the metal penstock pipes and on to the hydroelectric works, below. Today, the diversion channel simply flows over a low cataract and back into the main splash pool of White River Falls. In this view, the river was high enough for water to still flow over the diversion dam and then over the falls, but by mid-summer, the dam diverts the entire river into the side channel, drying up the falls.

I have argued for restoring waterfalls to their natural grandeur before in this blog, and in this case the same rule applies: nature will eventually remove the diversion dam, but why not be proactive and do it now? Why deprive today’s visitors the experience of seeing the falls as it once was?

5. Thinking big… and bigger?

In an earlier article I imagined a much larger desert park centered on White River Falls. Just 100 miles and about two hours from Portland, it would become the most accessible true Oregon desert experience for those living on the rainy side of the mountains. 

That possibility still exists, thanks to several puzzle parts in the form land owned by the Oregon State Parks and Oregon Fish and Wildlife (both shown in purple on the map, below) and federal Bureau of Land Management (shown in orange) along the lower White River and its confluence with the Deschutes River.

[click here for a much larger view of this map]

There’s a lot of private land (shown in yellow on the map) in this concept of an expanded park, as well, most of it held by about a half-dozen land owners. Such is the nature of desert land holdings, where typical ranches cover hundreds (if not thousands) of acres. Why did I include these areas? Because area surrounding White River Falls includes one of the least-known and most fascinating landscapes in WyEast Country, and it that warrants long-term protection and restoration. 

Most notable is the ancient river channel to the south of the White River Falls that I’ve called “Devils Gulch” for lack of a proper (and deserved!) name, as it is adjacent to a pair of basalt buttes called Devils Halfacre. This dry channel was formed by a massive landslide along the south wall of Tygh Valley that is nearly five miles long and more than a mile wide, and has likely been moving for millennia. The landslide may have begun as a single, catastrophic event, then continued for move slowly over the centuries, eventually diverting the White River north to its current route over White River Falls. I’ll be posting a future, in-depth article on this amazing geologic feature in addition to the following photos and caption highlights (and if any geoscience graduate students are reading this, we could use research in the form of a thesis on this area!)

This is the fascinating view across a massive, jumbled landslide and into the former canyon of the White River before it was diverted by the landslide. Today, the river flows beyond the two flat-topped buttes known as Devils Halfacre, in the upper left corner of this photo, diverted from the dry “Devils Gulch” valley at the center of this photo

This is a closer look at the two buttes known as Devils Halfacre. They once formed the north side of the ancient White River canyon, but the debris in the lower third of the photo diverted the river north sometime in the distant past. Today’s White River flows where the ribbon of Cottonwoods marks the valley floor, beyond the two buttes. White River Falls is behind the larger butte in the center. Snowy Tygh Ridge is in the distance

Below the landslide, the floor of the ancient White River canyon is fully intact. Beyond these dry meanders where a river once flowed is today’s White River canyon, marked by the canyon wall in the upper right of this view

This view of the east end of the landslide shows distinct rows of basalt debris formed by the landslide known as transverse ridges. These ridges form perpendicular to the direction of flow, in this case from the cliffs in the upper right that formed the source of the landslide toward what was the ancient path of the White River, in the lower left

Basalt rimrock is a common sight in Oregon’s sagebrush country, but in this case, the cliffs are a scarp resulted from a massive landslide event, not gradual erosion

This view from just below the landslide scarp looks north, toward Tygh Ridge, and across more than a mile of landslide debris now covered in sagebrush and desert grasses. The landslide covers roughly the bottom two-thirds of this photo

Looking west along the landslide scarp, Mount Hood and the Cascades rise on the western horizon

Another mostly forgotten feature in this larger park concept is a 1.5-mile section of old Highway 197 that was bypassed in the 1950s when the modern route was constructed. Because the desert does a fine job in preserving things, this piece of old road looks as if it were closed yesterday, not a half-century ago. While much of the historic road was destroyed by the modern highway, this section provides a view-packed tour of the Tygh Valley landslide from this graceful old road, including views into Devils Gulch. 

The original highway from The Dalles to Maupin curved with the landscape, as compared to its 1950s-era replacement that used cut-and-fill design to make modern highways straighter and faster. This long-bypassed section of the old road is where the historic highway remnant makes a dramatic descent into the Tygh Valley. Surprisingly, even the painted centerlines still survive after more than 60 years of being abandoned!

Mount Hood rises above the highway for much of this lost highway, as well. If you simply enjoy following old routes like this, it’s a resource in its own right, but it could also be an excellent jumping-off point for hike or bike trails in an expanded park. Like accessible trails, mountain bike trails are lacking in Oregon, especially on the dry east side of the Cascades. For cyclists touring Highway 197, it could be an excellent, traffic-free alterative to a steep section along the modern highway alignment. 

Cracks in the old paving are quickly discovered by moss and grasses. After making a sharp turn in its descent into Tygh Valley, the surviving section of old road points toward Mount Hood for much of its remaining length

Hundreds of mysterious desert mounds dot the slopes of Tygh Ridge, including large swarm along the north rim of the White River Canyon, downstream from the falls

Finally, there are flat-topped bluffs above the White River gorge (one that I’ve called the Tuskan Table, others north of the river) that have never been plowed, and still hold desert mounds – another topic I’ve written about before. Left ungrazed, desert mounds function like raised wildflower beds, providing both wildlife habitat and a refuge for native desert plants that have been displaced by grazing.

This is private land, so I haven’t ventured to these spots along the White River rim, but there’s a very good chance they are home to a threatened wildflower species that grows here and nowhere else in the world – the Tygh Valley Milkvetch. Scientists have documented the greatest threat to this beautiful species to be grazing, and therefore the importance of setting some protected habitat aside for these rare plants as part of the larger park concept.

Tuskan Table is a stunning, flat-topped peninsula of basalt that separates the Tygh Valley from the Deschutes River. In this view the table forms the west wall of the Deschutes Canyon. The White River joins the Deschutes just beyond Tuskan Table, in the upper right of this view

As the name suggests, the beautiful and extremely rare Tygh Valley Milkvetch grows only here, and thrives in several of the areas proposed as part of the larger White River Falls park concept (photo: Adam Schneider)

It turns out there is quite a bit of movement toward expanding park and wildlife lands in the lower Deschutes area. A few miles to the north, the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife has acquired several thousand acres in recent years along the north slopes of Tygh Ridge, where a series of side canyons and ravines drop into the Deschutes River. 

The federal Bureau of Land Management has also been expanding its holdings to the south, along the Deschutes River, and upstream from Tygh Valley, where the White River flows through a deep basalt canyon. In both cases, these acquisitions have been through willing seller programs, often made possible through the federal Land and Water fund for public land purchases.

Making White River 3.0 happen..?

After some lean years in the 80s and early 90s, Oregon’s state park system has seen relatively stable funding thanks to a dedicated stream from the Oregon lottery approved (and later re-upped) by voters. This has allowed the state to open the first new parks in decades – Stub Stewart in the Portland Area and Cottonwood Canyon on the John Day River. Other parks have benefitted, too, with major upgrades at iconic spots like Silver Falls State Park. So, a refurbishing at White River is certainly within reach, if not a current priority.

Rugged canyon country in White River Falls State Park

The first step is a new park master plan. This is the document that guides park managers and volunteers toward a common vision and it is created through a planning effort that includes the public, area tribes and others interested in the future of the park. 

What would a new master plan look like? It might include ideas from this article, along with other ideas for accommodating the growing interest in the area and the need to actively manage the visitor impacts that are becoming visible. It would likely include plans to do nothing at all in places that should remain undisturbed, for ecological or cultural reasons. 

Mostly, a new park plan for White River Falls should go big – not simply be a property management plan, but one that seeks to assemble a complete snapshot of the unique desert ecosystem that surrounds White River Falls through an expansion of the park. Cottonwood Canyon State Park is a fine model, as it was once a private cattle ranch, and is now being restored to its original desert habitat.

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“Make no little plans. They have no magic to stir men’s blood and probably will not themselves be realized. Make big plans, aim high in hope and work, remembering that a noble, logical diagram once recorded will never die, but long after we are gone will be a living thing, asserting itself with ever growing insistency” (Daniel Burnham)

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Once a park master plan is in place, new trails are the easiest and most affordable first step, especially in desert country. Much of what I’ve described here could be built by volunteer organizations, like Trailkeepers of Oregon (TKO). A new tent campground might be as simple as grading and adding water lines, also a manageable cost. 

The White River has carved a deep gorge into hundreds of feet of Columbia River Basalt below the falls

Acquiring land for a greatly expanded park? There are plenty of tools and funding sources for this, but the first step is a vision described in a park master plan. The partners in making it happen would be public land agencies who already have holdings in the area, including Oregon State Parks, Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife and the BLM. Tools for making it happen could range from outright purchase from willing sellers to conservation easements and wildlife easements. 

While researching the area, I discovered that a private, California-based hunting club has already leased hundreds of acres of private land within the expanded park concept for use by its members. Other land trusts may be interested in this unique area, as well, and could lead the way to an expanded park, as they have in other new parks in WyEast Country.

Winter sunset at White River Falls

And how about removing the diversion dam? This would be a more complex project that would probably require an environmental review, among other questions that would have to be answered. The actual removal is less an issue, as the dam is only a few feet tall and could easily be breached. Even without a plan for removal, the diversion dam is doomed. It hasn’t been maintained for decades and will eventually succumb to the wrath of the river. If we don’t remove the dam, the White River surely will!

I’ve written about the future of White River Falls in this article, but you don’t have to wait. You can enjoy it now! Here are some tips for visiting White River Falls: 

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• for maximum waterfall effect and the best wildflowers, stop by in late April and throughout May, but consider a weekday – the secret is out!

• bring hiking poles for the trip into the canyon – you won’t regret it.

• factor summer heat into your trip – the hike out of the canyon can be grueling on a hot August day.

• watch for poison ivy on the boot path below the main falls – the leaves are similar to poison oak, but it grows as a low groundcover, often around boulders that might otherwise look like a great sitting spot!

• make a driving loop through the town of Maupin and a section of the Deschutes Canyon from Maupin to Sherars Falls part of your trip.

• stop at the Historic Balch Hotel in Dufur and a walk down Dufur’s main street to Kruger’s Grocery on your return trip. It’s always important to support local communities when traveling through WyEast Country.

• finally, for Portlanders, stop at Big Jim’s drive-in at the east end of the Dalles for cool milkshake (and crinkle fries?) on the long drive home

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Enjoy – and who knows? I might even see you out on the trail!

Tom Kloster | February 2023

2023 Campaign Calendar!

/ Tom Kloster / 2 Comments

It is that time of year, so I will indulge in my annual plug for the Mount Hood National Park Campaign Calendar, of which all proceeds go to benefit Trailkeepers of Oregon (TKO). This article covers this year’s calendar scenes with some of their backstory, but if you’re itching to get a calendar before reading any further, here’s the link to my Zazzle store:

2023 Mount Hood National Park Calendar

Zazzle does a truly amazing job with these. They are beautifully printed on quality paper and orders typically arrive within about 10 days or so. I’ll post another link at the bottom of this article if you’d like to learn more about the images, first.

Another Year in WyEast Country…

Starting with the cover image (above), I picked an scene captured this fall, near Lolo Pass, on Mount Hood’s northwest side. This is my favorite profile of Mount Hood – a nearly perfect pyramid seemingly cut from solid stone that belies its origin as a stratovolcano. While most big Cascade volcanoes are lumpy and dome-shaped, glaciers have sculpted Mount Hood to have the many distinctive faces that often bely its volcanic origin. The sheer, towering Sandy Headwall in this view is among its most impressive.

For January (above), I chose an image of a stunted group of Oregon white oak over on the east side of Mount Hood. Here, the forests transitions in the dry rain shadow of the Cascades from Ponderosa pine and Douglas fir at higher elevations, to short, tortured oaks that seldom exceed 10 or 15 feet in height – a tenth of what they might achieve under less harsh conditions. Eventually the oaks give way to the sagebrush hills of Oregon’s desert country.

Freezing fog crystals on Oregon white oak leaves

On this particular visit, freezing fog had hovered over the area for several days, leaving everything flocked in elaborate ice crystals. It’s one of my favorite weather phenomena, and it is surprisingly common in select spots on the east side of the mountain, where freezing fog often banks up against the Cascades in winter. 

Freezing fog crystals on an Oregon white oak

The February image (below) in the new calendar features the last light of a winter day on Mount Hood’s crater, as viewed on a snowshoe trick into the White River Canyon. From this perspective, you can visualize the extent of the mountain’s last major eruption in the 1790s. The smooth south slopes on the left that extend all the way from the crater area to Government Camp were formed by debris flows that streamed down the mountain as new lava poured out in the crater. Though it seems timeless, today’s Crater Rock — an 800-foot monolith guarding the left side of the crater — was formed during this event, and is just 230 years old!

This snowshoe trip was memorable for the changing conditions. It was a brief ray of winter sun between storms. It had been a cloudy day, with the mountain mostly hiding in the overcast. The next weather system was already moving in, but as evening approached, the clouds suddenly lifted from them mountain for about an hour. The image below was taken about 20 minutes before the calendar view, as the clouds were still lifting away from the summit. After the brief light show, sun dropped down and the mountain disappeared into clouds, once again.

Winter clouds lifting from the mountain in late afternoon

For March, I choose a sylvan scene at Columbia Hills Nature Preserve, on the north side of the Columbia River in the desert country east of Mount Hood. Here, the wildflowers were just beginning to bloom while the grove of Oregon white oak was still dormant after a cold, windy winter. The wispy spring clouds completed the scene! The Columbia Hills are a gem, and their transformation from cattle ranch to wildland over the past few decades is one of the great recent conservation stories in WyEast county.

While I was setting up this photo, a pair of Western fence lizards were courting on a stack of rocks, nearby. They had found a warm, protected spot on a brisk day and didn’t seem too concerned about me. Just two friends soaking up the sun, or was it a romantic interlude? Hard to say, but they clearly were enjoying the re-emergence of spring, too.

Just friends..?

…or maybe more..?

The April calendar image (below) is a bit of an abstract made possible by weird geology and the brilliant colors of spring in the desert landscape. These are the Ortley Pinnacles, a sharply tilted layer of flood basalts that has been so uplifted that the once liquid layers of rock now stand almost on end. The bright yellow patches are Bigleaf maple flowering on the steep talus and groves (still leafless in this view) of Oregon white oak can be seen in the upper left.

The scale of this image is a bit hard to appreciate, too, so this wider image (below) shows the river, a freight train and the 2,000-foot north wall of the Columbia River Gorge for reference. Though  beautiful at any time of the year, the rainbow of colors in the east Gorge are especially striking in mid-spring.

Freight train passing under the Ortley Pinnacles in the east Columbia River Gorge

Staying on the east side of Mount Hood, the May calendar image features another Columbia Hills Nature Preserve scene. This view, looking toward Mount Hood (and Mount Jefferson for the sharp-eyed), is across vast fields of yellow Arrowleaf balsamroot and blue Lupine that famously carpet the area in spring.

This is an increasingly popular place for hikers and photographers during the spring bloom, with people coming from all over the world to capture the spectacle of these meadows. 

While setting up another photo, I watched an unexpected drama suddenly unfold through my lens (below). A white SUV suddenly appeared, with the driver apparently unaccustomed to driving on backroads. Rounding the corner too fast, they skidded off the soft shoulder and were quickly stuck in the ditch. Another driver soon stopped, and everyone seemed to be okay. Later, I passed a tow truck from The Dalles finally arriving to pull them out. A memorable day for these visitors, but at least they had a lovely  backdrop while waiting for the tow!

If you’re doing to ditch your car, you might has well choose a scenic spot!

For June, an image of White River Falls in all its spring runoff glory is the featured image. This is a favorite spot I’ve been visiting since the early 1980s. Over those years, it has continued to recover from its industrial past to re-emerge as one of the most striking features in the desert country east of Mount Hood. Until 1960, a small hydroelectric plant built at the turn of the 20th Century operated here, and much of the old infrastructure still remains in place as sort of an industrial ruins.

As the park gathered popularity in the late 2000s, the interior of the old power house took a real beating, with lot of tagging and senseless vandalism. Like so many parks, the steep increase in visitation is also taking a toll on the trails at White River falls, with old staircases just wearing out from the heavy use and new user paths sprouting in all directions. 

In recent years, Oregon Parks and Recreation Department (OPRD) has stepped up their efforts at White River Falls, including securely enclosing the power house interior against further damage and increasing their efforts to managing tagging at the park. On-site park hosts now care for the park for from spring through fall, as well. Fact is, any park with a swimming hole is bound to deal with these issues, so it’ good to see OPRD beginning to get ahead of the problem.

These steps made of railroad ties and concrete slabs have seen better days at White River Falls

I continued the White River Falls theme in July, with a view of the lesser-known Lower White River Falls. This lovely spot is a short walk down the canyon from the historic powerhouse and is framed by desert wildflowers in early summer.

The trail to the lower falls – like most in the park – are social trails. Unfortunately, they are have become increasingly tangled and impactful as ever more new trails form with the growth in visitation. In desert environments, managing trail routes is especially important, as new user trails can leave tracks that last decades. 

The good news at White River Falls is that there is a lot of park and thus much potential to spread visitors out a bit with a modest expansion of the trail system. And, the trails in the impacted areas just need some care and management to become sustainable again. Much of the work could be done by volunteers, too. Given the relative remoteness of the park, one option could be “volunteer vacation” events where trail volunteers spend a week working at a site. This would take advantage of the new restrooms and other accommodations already at the park.

Keeping hikers on the few trails that exist at White River Falls is a challenge. These hikers walked right past a closure sign.

In the coming year I’ll be sharing some concepts for expanding trail opportunities at White River Falls with an eye toward accommodating the continued growth in popularity and preserving its beauty and history. Both can be accomplished with some thoughtful planning, much of the work by volunteers.

Moving to August, I made the unusual choice of an image with people in it! That wasn’t really the plan, but these hikers walked through my setup and so I captured a few images. I later decided they added to the story of the pilgrimage experience that hiking up the shoulder of Mount Hood offers so many – in this case, the venerable trail to Cooper Spur.

I had about a dozen images from this sequence and chose one that would be anonymous. However, another consideration was an off-leash dog with the lead group. I’m a dog-lover (I currently have three) and am of the view that dogs in wilderness should always be leashed. There are lots of good reasons for this, mostly for the benefit of both wildlife and the dogs. However, this is not the law, and even in the few National Forest areas where leashes are mandated, the U.S. Forest Service does little to enforce the rules.

Hikers (and a hiker’s best friend) on the trail to Cooper Spur

Given that reality, I’ve got a mostly-written piece on “dog etiquette for hikers” that I will eventually post on the blog. Dog owners are just looking for a great outdoor experience, after all, and mostly don’t realize the impact of off-leash pets, so in the end, managing how we take our pets into the wild really depends on awareness and culture change. I’m already seeing that happen, albeit slowly.

For September, I chose an image of the Eliot Glacier from the same Cooper Spur hike featured in the previous month. The Eliot remains Mount Hood’s largest glacier, and the view into its mass of crevasses and seracs is truly breathtaking from the upper reaches of Cooper Spur. Yet, for old timers like me, the changes in the glacier in recent years are increasingly worrisome. To put a face on the change over the past couple of decades, I’ll be posting an article soon that does exactly that: side-by-side comparisons of change over the past 20 years. The differences are startling, and hopefully helpful inspiration to do our part to address global climate change.

A pleasant surprise that September day on Cooper Spur were swarms of Ladybugs all along the crest! Entomologists have studied this phenomenon extensively, and the thinking is that when bugs from opposite valleys meet along ridgetops to mate, they are rewarded with genetic diversity. In the moment, however, it was just a wild and crazy party atmosphere among the little beetles!

Scenic spot for a Ladybug convention!

Lots of action, here – beetle romance in the air!

Moving on to October, I chose this image of Mount Hood from the shoulder of Vista Ridge. I’ve spent a lot of time on this side of the mountain over the past couple of decades, and like much of the mountain, this corner has seen a rapid increase in visitation. The Vista Ridge trailhead is really just a stubbed logging road, and thus ill equipped to handle the amount of traffic it sees, with cars park at crazy angles and backed up down the road on busy weekends.

Therefore, another piece I’m planning to post in the coming year is a new trailhead concept for Vista Ridge that I’m actively working on with Trailkeepers of Oregon (TKO) to advance. 

The idea is to solve the current trailhead crowding issues while also converting a section of the current access road to become an accessible trail – turning the roadside view captured above into a trail destination for less able-bodied visitors or those with mobility devices. Far too few of these opportunities exist on the mountain, so this seems like a good starting point.

Future Vista Ridge trailhead? Maybe…

The relocated Vista Ridge parking area would move downhill by a half mile to a recently logged area (above) that is already disturbed and better situated as a trailhead. Some of this work could be done by volunteers, but it will take a partnership with the Forest Service to make this happen. More to come on this concept!

For November, I chose a wintery scene from the Ponderosa pine country of Lookout Mountain, located just east of Mount Hood in the Badger Creek Wilderness. This image is from still another freezing frost event, along with a skiff of snow on the ground from an early winter storm.

The contrast of rust-colored Ponderosa bark to the cool blues and greens of frost-covered pine needles is truly striking during these events. The effect is also fleeting, as even a light breeze can shake the ice crystals loose in a miniature snow flurry, and a break in the clouds would quickly melt them away.

Freezing fog scene in a Ponderosa forest

Ice crystals decorating Ponderosa pine limbs

Last up, the December image is from another winter trek into the White River Canyon (below). On this quiet trip, I followed another snowshoer and her dog into the canyon on a weekday afternoon when crowds on the mountain were few. 

Heading into the White River Canyon in winter

On the way back down the canyon, I set up the camera for some evening views of the mountain using long exposures to capture the movement of the White River. This image (below) ended up being my pick for the calendar.

However, I wrestled between a couple of images from this trip for the calendar, both taken from exactly the same spot, though about 20 minutes apart. So, if you like pink alpenglow scenes, you’ll be disappointed in my choice of the previous photo for the calendar!  The image below was last light on the mountain that day.

Alpenglow along the White River

As with most years, I chose the 13 calendar images for 2023 from about 150 “keepers” that I had pulled aside over the year as favorites. The best thing about putting the calendar together each year is sharing my experiences in WyEast Country, while also challenging myself to see new places, or see familiar places in new ways. Every year I learn new so many new secrets about Mount Hood and the Gorge!

Also among the photos each year are nine wildflower images on the back of the calendar. My thanks to Paul Slichter’s for his terrific Flora and Fauna Northwest website and to the Oregon Wildflowers Facebook group administered by Greg Lief and Adam Schneider for their help on identifying several of these beauties.

So, there’s the backstory! If you’d like a calendar, they’re easy to order online from Zazzle – and to repeat, all proceeds go to Trailkeepers of Oregon (TKO), as always. Just follow this link:

2023 Mount Hood National Park Campaign Calendar

As always, thanks for following the WyEast Blog for another year. I hope to run into you on the trail sometime in 2023!

Tom Kloster | December 2022