Yesterday presented a whole range of weather as I traveled. One minute it was beautifully sunny.
The next I was hemmed in by fog.
Neither one was a hardship because it never rained. Not once! For January in Oregon, this constitutes a great day!
Normally I wouldn't choose a specific destination for my trip, but I hadn't been to Abiqua Falls in over a decade. A family friend brought it up the other day and I couldn't help but seek it out (Thanks Larry Stirber!). This waterfall is tucked away in an amphitheater of rock hidden at the end of a mud and rock trail with fallen logs and a steep vertical descent. It is only a half mile from the road, but what a half mile it is. I was determined to get there, but it was harder than I thought.
I started out by following directions from Google Maps. This was a mistake. Google Maps is wonderful for the urban/suburban environments, but not so great for the rural ones. I had printed out directions from the Northwest Waterfall Survey, but then I couldn't find them. So, I resorted to using Google Maps as a tool. It didn't work. I wound up about 20 miles away from where I expected to, but it took me in a route that I didn't realize how far off I was until I was there.
At the end of the road where Google Maps dropped me off, there was a gate, just like I was expecting, but it looked TOTALLY different from when I was there years earlier. I chalked it up to a faulty memory and began my descent down the trail into the small valley. I hiked about a mile in when I realized I was in the wrong location. A mile straight down. So, I ascended the trail back to the truck and arrived huffing and sweating. This guy met me near my car.
He charged the fence a bit and then backed away to a safe distance once he realized I posed no threat.
Determined to get to the Abiqua Falls, I dug through my truck and school bag until I got my hands on the directions from the Northwest Waterfall Survey. At this point it was 3:30 in the afternoon and I was starting to sweat the amount of sunlight I had left in the day.
After driving for 20 minutes, I found my way to Crooked Finger Road out of Scotts Mills, OR. From there, it is the simple matter of descending a steep grade gravel road for about 2.25 miles until you hit the gate I immediately recognized once I arrived.
The day was quickly turning to evening and the sun was well past the western edge of the hills, so it was getting shadowy. The picture above of the trees in the fog is the view I encountered when I got out of my truck. I debated continuing on or waiting for another day to make it to the falls.
Probably against my better judgment, I continued on. I slipped and slid my way down the muddy vertical descent to the river, and as I progressed, the woods engulfed me in a growing darkness. Once at the bottom of the valley it was obvious that I needed to get moving so I could make my goal. The "trail" at the bottom of the canyon is simply the moss-less rocks alongside a stream where people have walked before. It is not developed, just a vague impression of others having been there before you.
But the canyon itself is beautiful. I hiked along the river, taking in all the ambient moisture in the air. The mist from fog and the nearby waterfall infuses the air with a chilled wetness delights as it slides over your tongue and into your lungs.
The sound of the water cascading down the river is loud in this narrow canyon. It bounces over the high rock walls, and, at one point before rounding a corner and entering the amphitheater of stone, the rumble of the water pressed into my ears like an altitude change. The physical pressure of the water echoing off stone made me pop my ears.
And then there it is. I rounded a stone corner and discovered it all over again.
I couldn't resist a selfie.
It was absolutely worth it. I rested for a moment, taking in this wonder that feels like a secret, a private place where no one else could find me, and I felt lost in the best possible sense of the word. Lost in the world, off the grid and alone in a way that is uncommon in the modern world. I sat on a stone and listened to the water crash down in front of me.
I wasn't able to stay long as the light was quickly fading, but I will return. I will for sure return when I have the time to bring a journal with me. Abiqua Falls reminds me of great fantasy or adventure storytelling. It could be the location of a great final battle, or the clandestine location where friendly factions meet to plot the overthrow of an oppressive king. It begs to be captured in words, so that others can experience it in their imaginations.
Abiqua Falls was one piece of what was an otherwise spectacular day.
Promise #2? Complete.
Promise #3?
I'll let you know how it goes.
No comments:
Post a Comment