A gaggle of geese on the Crooked River.
Unbelievably, it is the last week of summer vacation for Ceili. So Wednesday’s hike was her call. She said she wanted a “chill hike” at Smith Rock. Alrighty then.
Smith Rock State Park, like Sahalie Falls, is a destination natural wonder in our part of the world. With towers and crags jutting up out of the high desert about 30 miles to our northeast, it is a mecca for climbers from all over the world. Sounds like a crowded tourist magnet, you say. And you’d be right. There is, however, a hack…
Most of the preferred climbing routes are downstream of the entrypoint into the Crooked River Canyon that forms Smith Rock State Park. The downstream reach is fully-developed — wooden boardwalks and stairs and guardrails — and the rocks are streaked with chalk where countless climbers have learned the sport or tested their skills on the most challenging faces. Upstream is undeveloped except for a spiderweb of foot-trails. We went thataway and had the joint practically to ourselves. (There’s a pattern here, and a metaphorical life lesson. Go upstream to avoid the herd…)
The “chill hike” thing didn’t last too long, of course. The wonder-where-this-goes? bug sent us brush-poppin’ and boulder-hoppin’ and scree-skiiing around and up and down this noble geological wonder.
There’s a couple of stories about how Smith Rock got its name: Either from a John Smith who was an early Oregon lawman, legislator and explorer (most likely) or a soldier who fell to his death from the rock in 1863 (cooler). The whole place says “mountain man” to me, so in my personal mythology it is named for Jedediah Smith.
We won’t stop our hikes just because of school, of course. Fall is, in many respects, the finest time of year around here. But it feels different from summer, and this was a good way to mark the transition with my adventure buddy.
Streamside Oregon Grape.
Millennia of water action has done odd things to the boulders in the river.
Purty country…
Desert sentinel.
Tree hugger. There are a couple of pondos that have the lowest, heaviest limbs I’ve ever seen.
Closing out the summer season in style.
The geological tale of Smith Rock.
Annie says
Mmmmm. I’d say, “do you know how lucky your are?”, but I know, you know exactly how lucky you are.
Best of luck Ceili in your next year of school and take good care of the family for me.
JimC says
You’re right on that score Annie.
lane batot says
How well do I remember those days(were they so long ago?)–which I likened to breaking reservation for the Summer hunt! Then one had to trail back to confinement and oppression and starvation for the Winter on the Rez. Sending me to the Rez was my parents’ last ditch effort to civilize and acculturate me. It failed. I came out MORE unreconstructed than when I went in! But I survived(and even got that silly slip of paper along with the permanent escape), and one reason I did is because #1–I had plenty of wild mountains around campus(I mean–the reservation) to escape to regularly(TEST? There’s a TEST today???)deep, deep in the Appalachians; AND I eventually got into a full blown guerrilla war with campus security and crooked administration folks–gave me a REAL reason to stick around! There’s a book or two needs to be written on all that(one of these days…..). Now that I’ve jumped reservation permanently, I DO still havta Walk-The-Whiteman’s-Road to feed all my dogs, but I can TOTALLY REVERT in a matter of hours, and git enough days off and vacation to keep myself from total ruination! But ahhhhhh, how I remember those long, wild Summers between eddicating, and how one’s ponies dragged their hooves in having to go back…….
JimC says
Love it…