I live in the Pacific Northwest, very near the Columbia River Gorge. If you live in another part of the country, you may not know about this beautiful place where the mighty Columbia River made a canyon more than 80 miles long and 4,000 feet high in some places that is the Gorge. There are tall falls and multiple hikes on both sides that divide Oregon and Washington along this 80 mile stretch.

Jim and I went there Monday. It was cool and cloudy and not supposed to rain so off we went. We only had a couple of hours so chose a shorter hike—one neither of us had done: Oneonta Gorge, starting at Horsetail Falls. It was labeled “moderate” with a 400’ elevation gain. Not bad.

In past hiking experiences with my late husband, Bill, we frequented the Gorge nearly every week. Most were training hikes for bigger and better climbs. As Bill thumbed through his hiking books, he’d read about the hike. If it was rated “moderate” or “easy”, he wouldn’t take a second glance, preferring “difficult” or “more difficult”. I usually trailed along after him—sometimes disgruntled— where we muscled up the trail, sweating in any season of the year, breathing heavily at the start until our wind caught up with us. Sitting atop a high spot: Mt. Defiance (4960’) the highest, I carried a Snickers bar to treat myself. We also climbed Table Mountain (3419’), Dog Mountain (2949’), or Hamilton Mountain (2100’). The best part of the hike was when we were done. We’d treat ourselves to a full sized burger or something caloric, knowing we’d worked hard enough to enjoy without guilt.

At sea level, any trail in the Gorge is *up*. I learned after many hikes your breathing has to adjust. Any place you start will be up for awhile. Some of them keep on going up, others moderate after a few hundred feet. The views are worth it.

 

Though I’ve never hiked alone, it feels like I’m alone as I’m trudging along. There’s not much chatter slogging up the slope—that comes later when we go down. Often a song runs through my mind as I climb. I learned it as a seventh grader in a choir I sang in:

I know a green cathedral,
a hollowed forest shrine.
Where trees in love join hands above
to arch your prayer and mine.
Within its cool depths sacred,
the priestly cedar sighs… Gordon Johnstone

The song goes on and it’s funny that I remember it, but I do feel like I’m in my own special cathedral with my own private thoughts as I hike.

As we climbed, I’d stop and snap photos of the beautiful wildflowers.

 

The ferns are just as beautiful as the wildflowers. Watch the video, the water is running down over a wall of ferns:

Some of you who read my blog live in another part of the country or aren’t able to hike so I’m including some photos along the way. I hope you enjoy them. Be sure to click on the videos and you’ll hear the falls roar.

 

 

There’s always a bridge and a chance to steal a kiss.

I wonder what Bill would think of the hike we chose. Perhaps since he would now be 73 years old, he might consider it, though I doubt it. I can’t picture that. But that’s ok. I was hiking with a different man in a different time of my life. With Bill, I was usually preparing for a bigger climb and I needed to get my body in shape for some back pack or mountain climb. Most likely I won’t go on any more mountain climbs, though I probably could.

I’m in a different life now and I am making a new history with a different person. I’m really glad Jim wants to hike, for each time I smell the musky forest, it gives me a contentedness I don’t get anywhere else. In June, it’s so green, it nearly hurts your eyes.  I love the warbling of the birds, the chatter and scolding of the chipmunks, and often the sound of the creek nearby. And yes, I hum that song….my green cathedral. It’s really almost worshipful to me and I do thank God for His beautiful creation each time I’m out there.

This video is of Horsetail Falls:

I hope you’ve enjoyed the views from my hike. If you are able, get outside in our glorious world–wherever that might be. I’m sure there’s a patch of green….