Runner's Paradise!

I had a great time this past weekend. It was my first time visiting Oregon and Olga was an awesome host. I had my own personal tour guide to show me around the city and Oregon and was introduced to the wonderful training grounds frequented by the locals. On my way into Portland, I caught my first glimpse of Mt. Hood. It is a formidable looking peak, even when you fly over. It was protruding above the clouds that formed a skirt amongst its lower reaches. Soon after, our plane made its final descent through the clouds and I caught my first glimpse of this unfamiliar landscape. It was very green with forests everywhere.

The next morning, we got up early and drove out to the Columbia River Gorge for a run up to Larch Mountain. We pulled into a parking lot and prepped. Olga jumped out of the car and was ready to go. She patiently waited as I prepared my waist pack and bottles for the unknowns the day would offer. I changed from my short sleeve shirt into a long sleeve because it felt a little cold for me. We began walking towards the trailhead and it was at that moment I realized we were at Multnomah Falls. Wow! I had no idea this is where it was located. You see, each day during the trip held a new surprise. I didn’t want to know the plan. I wanted each day to be an adventure into the unknown visiting places for which I was unfamiliar. The falls were spectacular and I have always wanted to see them. There was a thick mist in the air from the water falling from almost 700 feet above us. It made for a chilly beginning of the run—ok, maybe we hiked this part. But, after crossing the bridge and making our way past the falls, we warmed up quickly from the climb up the asphalt path. After an almost 1,000ft climb, we made our way to an observation deck. It was the exact spot where the water falls from Multnomah Creek in a freefall. I peeked over the side and quickly stepped back. Olga did the same. We continued on the path until it led to what we had both been anticipating—soft single track. We eventually made it to the snow line, where the snow was solid in patches. After about a half mile, it was solid, consolidated snow. As we ascended through the old growth forest, the snow would become deeper, as gauged by the tree wells. Near the top, I estimated we were running on 3 to 5 feet of consolidated snow. Thankfully, during the first part of the venture up the mountain, we were able to follow a sparsely marked trail in the snow by following reddish/pink ribbons tied to tree branches. We, eventually, ran out of these niceties and were left with only old foot prints in the snow. And, that’s where we met Ron. An older gentleman trying to make it to the top of the Larch. He had turned around because he couldn’t figure out where to go. There was next to nothing to follow in regard to following a path through the forest. Olga was considering that we turn around so we wouldn’t get lost, but I wanted to give it a shot and make an attempt to summit. So, we continued. We stopped a few times to discuss our route options and, eventually, came across an old set of footprints in the sun cupped snow. On the way up, Olga kept in touch with her son, Alex, via cell phone and I didn’t mind at all--she has her priorities in order. We came to the top of a peak and, then, descended a small saddle and made our way the final few hundred yards to the observation point of Larch Mountain. We had covered over 4,000 vertical feet in about 6 or 7 miles. It felt satisfying to have made our goal. It was Olga’s first time on top since last Fall. As we reached the top, the sun broke through the clouds just long enough for us to enjoy its warmth. The views on a cloudless day are spectacular, but on this day we were surrounded by clouds. So, Olga decided to jokingly comment and point toward the direction of each peak and say each out loud--Mt. Hood, Mt. Rainer, Mt. Jefferson, Mt. Adams, and a few more. I wasn’t disappointed in the least. It felt great to reach the top. We left not too long after to begin our descent through the snow as the clouds obscured the sun’s warm rays.

The descent down was a lot of fun. We found what we believed was the trail, based on the faint tracks previously left in the snow. We, actually, descended a different route. A few times, we had to stop and look around for the faint trail. The sun cups and tree debris on the snow hid some obvious signs of the “trail” we were trying to follow. I was having a blast! I ran on snow at Jemez, but this was much more fun. The open, old growth forest was shrouded in a slight haze of snow fog. It made for a surreal experience and made me smile that much more. After a few miles of descent, we stopped because we had no idea if we made a wrong turn. Olga suggested we backtrack up the mountain. I decided to try and figure out the best direction to descend, based on the direction of the sun, which occasionally peeked through the clouds. Within about 5 minutes, we found a familiar tree and the red/pink ribbon that had led us up the mountain, once we encountered snow. It was at the same time that the sun broke through the clouds for the remainder of the day. I now understood why PNW’ers rejoice in what many in other parts of the country take for granted. It made me smile and appreciate it for its warmth and beauty as it pierced through the high tree canopy and onto the forest floor. We finally made it to dry ground, but not before I post-holed and tore a large gash in my left shin with the coarse snow. I just laughed that I could get a great souvenir on the trail from snow. We continued our descent towards, what I thought was the car, but that would be short-lived. Olga had other plans. We began going up, again, over the course a several more miles for another 2,000 feet of gain. But, I was happy to just be out in that incredible forest getting to play. We filled our bottles from a small seep along the way and continued. We visited places like Devil’s Rest and Angel’s Rest, which had incredible views of the Columbia River Gorge. I was also introduced to what Olga considered a “bump” on a trail. Basically, most of the trails I run in Austin are not bumps, meaning everything is runnable where I live. We finished up the run and it was a great day of running for about 6 hours.

The next adventure was to the Oregon coast. Another place I’ve always wanted to go for one reason--to see a forest border the shoreline and to see big rocks jutting out of the water offshore. I didn’t know if where we were going would be like that, but I could only hope. Eventually, we made it to the coast and entered a local park—Ecola State Park. We drove through a winding road in the forest and, eventually, emerged in an open area parking lot. We began walking toward the coast and I was smiling ear-to-ear. It was exactly what I was hoping it would be. Big monoliths protruding out of the sea and forest to the edge of the bluffs and beaches. I was so pleased. After the visit, we made our way to Cannon Beach and found a place to eat. Our table was right next to a fire emanating from a large cobblestone fireplace centered in the main dining room. After dinner, we decided to walk to the beach. I took a few pictures, but the thing I wanted to do the most was touch the Pacific Ocean. I was seven years old when I last felt its waters. I knelt down as a small wave came in and immersed my hands into the foaming, clear water—very satisfying. It had been 34 years since I had last touched the Pacific. It was a great way to end the day.

The next day, we had a long drive to Smith Rock State Park. The formations looked great from the road, but once we entered the park, I realized why we were there. It was absolutely stunning scenery. The Crooked River cut a deep canyon below the parking lot. A climbers paradise abound in front of us with great faces. The trails were steep, the landscape barren. But, it was incredibly beautiful and unique in regard to the trails we were running the previous day. I saw formations, such as the Monkey Face. There were a lot of long ups and downs along the way.







We, eventually made it to the base of a trail called the Scar. From a distance it looked vertical and impossible to ascend, but we decided to give it a try. What else did we have to lose. Olga and I began our power walk up the trail. I was feeling good, so I began running. That didn’t last too long. The trail was so incredibly steep that you couldn’t get enough footing to push off to ascend. About three-fourths of the way up, I decided, “what the hell”, I’m going to run, again. And, I did. It was rough going, but I knew it would be over shortly. It was, by far, the steepest trail I’ve encountered. We continued our running and talked about all sorts of subjects. We were having a great time enjoying the scenery and the day. Eventually, we made it to the river, again. We followed the flat trail back to the main footbridge, but not before encountering a snake. Olga freaked and so did I. I hate snakes. But, after I figured out it wasn’t poisonous, I walked towards it with the camera. Ok, actually Olga wanted a picture of it so I obliged. It was about 5 feet long and couldn’t have cared less about us. As we approached the footbridge, I gazed across the river and saw a familiar figure. It was Krissy Moehl and a few of her friends filling bottles at a spigot. They made their way across the bridge as we were crossing. We stopped and chatted for a few minutes before continuing to the end of our run. Another fine day of running.

On our way back to Portland, we stopped at the Timberline Lodge, which was used in The Shining, at the base of Mt. Hood. It was cold and snow was everywhere. We didn’t stay long, but it was well worth the stop as a diversion during the long drive back to Portland.

Later that evening, we went to the Rogue Brewery, another place I’ve always wanted to visit. I thought it was interesting during my trip that we went to many places I’ve always wanted to visit. Olga didn’t ask me in advance where I wanted to go. It was just a coincidence in her choices. Sunday morning was shrouded in rain and cool temperatures. The typical Oregon weather many refer to when describing the area. We ventured to Forest Park, which is another trail mecca for the locals. It definitely wasn’t flat, but rolling hills through an incredibly diverse forest. Olga showed me her favorite tree in the park—a Birch Bark Cherry. The bark is almost indescribable—perfectly smooth deep brownish-red bark. And, when I say smooth, I’m referring to metal smooth. It was raining at the time, but I didn’t even notice it. It didn’t matter to me.

I left later that day on my flight back to Austin. As I sat in my window seat reading a book, I noticed an incredible sunset transpiring. I quickly grabbed my camera and took a few quick shots as our plane made its way eastward into the night as the glowing orange cirrus faded with the day.