The Columbia River Gorge and I had some quality one-on-one time yesterday. I initially wanted to do the Lower Deschutes River Trail (an abandoned railroad grade) as a two-day bike-packing trip, but dog logistics at home put the kibosh on that plan. So I dusted off Ol’ Blue, sweetened her aching joints with oil, bolted on a rear rack, and unceremoniously threw her in the back of the car for a day trip. The ski rack just isn’t ready to come off yet.
Lower Deschutes River canyon
The day was stunning. On a whim and in no particular hurry, I pulled off the interstate at Mosier to drive the Old Columbia River Gorge Highway to The Dalles. I was hoping to see some of the orchard trees in bloom but it’s still too early. Only the isolated domestic flowering cherry tree brightened the otherwise still-wintry feeling landscape.
random fruit tree in the lower canyon
I stopped in the The Dalles for about 45 minutes to photograph and study a streetscape project we’re pursuing – my nod to “work” for the day – and then continued on to the Deschutes River State Recreation Area. Though there were a lot of posted signs, it wasn’t entirely clear where to park if you weren’t an overnight vehicle or how much it cost to park for the day. I’m not even sure you have to pay to park for the day, but I donated $5 to the cause for the karma points.
I parked at the trailhead at the entrance (near the horse poop compost bin), loaded up Blue, and headed up the wide, flat, gravel/earth trail. I spun along at 11-12 mph, stopping frequently to snap photos and enjoy views in the sunshine. The character of the canyon starts to change around mile 4 where the “trail” drops down to Gordon Creek and then climbs back up to the railroad grade at the base of some beautiful basalt cliffs. The light wasn’t suitable for photos at the time I rode past the basalt cliffs (both in the AM and PM), but you could spend a good chunk of time observing the beautiful columnar arrays and spirals created by the uplift.
I soon came to the first relic boxcar, marking the trail down to a campsite at mile 5.6.
relic boxcar
inside the boxcar
still in good shape after all these years
boxcar detail
While I was hanging out at the first boxcar, a modern train rounded the corner and came chugging up on the other side of the canyon.
old train, new train
As I rode away from the first railcar, I pulled over to let an Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife truck rumble past – the source of the washboarding on the road that could shake panniers and suspect teeth loose if you drifted into the ruts. Another mile or so down the trail, I stopped to watch a flotilla of rafters pull out to scout a set of rapids. The Deschutes was running fast and full and the Class 3 rapid looked a little more assertive than usual.
Deschutes River Trail
After about an hour on the trail, my stomach started letting me know that it would like me to stop and put a little something-something into it. I was pleased just then to see the Harris homestead relic around mile 11. It’s not that exciting a place, but I liked photographing it.
Harris Ranch
Harris Ranch
Harris Ranch
Ol' Blue
no touchy
this is where the cows were
After my peanut butter and jelly picnic at the homestead, I rode up the trail a little more to the split with Harris Canyon, about mile 12. There is another old railcar and some other outbuildings just beyond the Harris house, and a cool old gravity feed water tower. I wanted to keep going but it was just after 1PM and I needed to head back to the car. I stopped a few times on the way back to photograph some flowers, the first of the season.
desert parsley
arrowleaf balsamroot
lupine
And, of course, the infamous “wet floor” sign across the trail.
slippery when wet
Back at the car, I played the “Tick or Mud Speck?” game and carefully searched myself for the little hangers on. The car thermometer read 70 degrees. My face was crusted with salt. My legs tinged pink, the seed of a base tan.
Not a bad day.