The New Oregonian
My first adventures in Oregon had moments that can only be classified as comic disasters: driving six hours and forgetting my front mountain bike tire, eating cheese and developing explosive diarrhea, rushing down a mountain to find a bathroom and twisting my ankle in the process, and developing blisters while having explosive diarrhea and trying to rush down a mountain. But I can’t say that those moments truly surprise me or even upset me. They mostly seem par for my course and only minor setbacks in otherwise exciting and interesting new experiences.
After I researched different options in books, maps, and the Internet, I decided upon Saddle Mountain. It seemed right for the kind of mood I was in: short, steep, and dangerously rocky towards the summit. Saddle Mountain also happens to be the tallest mountain in the northern Coastal Range in Oregon rising at 3, 283 ft above sea level. In my mind, the fact it was the tallest mountain in the northern Oregon Coastal Range compensated for my desire to experience more significant elevation now that I was no longer living on the East Coast.
The beginning half of the climb was smooth and full of switchbacks revealing rolling green forest. As the climb left the forest canopy, the trail became progressively steeper and rockier. The rest of the way up was full of cables, sliding rock, and exposed ridges. The views of the surrounding mountains were full or steep rock drop-offs and devoid of any trees. The last part of the climb was particularly challenging with the cables and the steps more unreliable than the sliding rock paths.
The top of the mountain was broad and flat with views of Nehalem Bay, Mt. Hood, Mt. Jefferson, and the Columbia River. The most striking thing, however, were not the snow covered Cascades, the river, or the bay, but the Weryhauser clear-cuts. Swaths of forest missing from the dense compact green of the surrounding landscape. At that moment, I wasn’t sure what I felt -- anger, indifference, or sadness at climbing atop a mountain to be struck most strongly not by the beautiful natural features surrounding me but by what had been taken and what was missing.
One thing I have felt strongly since moving to Oregon is a sadness in the landscape that makes it more beautiful and more disappointing. Everything beautiful here is tempered by a dam or by clear-cuts, and I’m not entirely sure how this makes me feel. I understand and even believe in circumstances where these things are not entirely evil. However, being confronted by these things has made me realize that I must adjust to my new surroundings and figure out my relationship to this environment and who is using it and how it is being used. I know I don’t want to be the kind of newcomer and recreationist who has a knee-jerk disapproval and judgment of logging in a region that depends on it. And I don’t necessarily believe that harnessing the water of the Columbia or Clackamas River to create hydroelectric power for the Portland metro area is bad…but I also am not sure if deep down I think it is right either.
The truth is that I do not have an informed enough view to develop the type of nuanced and intelligent opinion that I want to have. All I’ve got is instincts. I don’t know yet what it is like to live in a metropolitan area full of forest, mountains, rivers, and ocean and what it is like to have a relationship with these features as a recreationist and as a consumer of all the resources these things provide me. But these are essentially the questions that propel me into explorations and new adventures. I’m not sure what I would do if the answers actually appeared in front of me – easy, tangible, and concrete.
As I walked down the mountain a middle-aged and shirtless man was huffing his way up. I stepped off to the side to let him continue up and told him that he had the top of the mountain all to himself. “Right on, right on,” he said to me, “And, oh, by the way, there are is a cold present for you on the way down, but leave one for me.” As I slid down the rocks and cursed the blisters forming on my feet, I slipped down to see two Alaskan Ambers resting against a tree. So, yeah, whether or not I know the answers, I hope I will continue to meet every adventure with generosity and gratitude along my way.
After I researched different options in books, maps, and the Internet, I decided upon Saddle Mountain. It seemed right for the kind of mood I was in: short, steep, and dangerously rocky towards the summit. Saddle Mountain also happens to be the tallest mountain in the northern Coastal Range in Oregon rising at 3, 283 ft above sea level. In my mind, the fact it was the tallest mountain in the northern Oregon Coastal Range compensated for my desire to experience more significant elevation now that I was no longer living on the East Coast.
The beginning half of the climb was smooth and full of switchbacks revealing rolling green forest. As the climb left the forest canopy, the trail became progressively steeper and rockier. The rest of the way up was full of cables, sliding rock, and exposed ridges. The views of the surrounding mountains were full or steep rock drop-offs and devoid of any trees. The last part of the climb was particularly challenging with the cables and the steps more unreliable than the sliding rock paths.
The top of the mountain was broad and flat with views of Nehalem Bay, Mt. Hood, Mt. Jefferson, and the Columbia River. The most striking thing, however, were not the snow covered Cascades, the river, or the bay, but the Weryhauser clear-cuts. Swaths of forest missing from the dense compact green of the surrounding landscape. At that moment, I wasn’t sure what I felt -- anger, indifference, or sadness at climbing atop a mountain to be struck most strongly not by the beautiful natural features surrounding me but by what had been taken and what was missing.
One thing I have felt strongly since moving to Oregon is a sadness in the landscape that makes it more beautiful and more disappointing. Everything beautiful here is tempered by a dam or by clear-cuts, and I’m not entirely sure how this makes me feel. I understand and even believe in circumstances where these things are not entirely evil. However, being confronted by these things has made me realize that I must adjust to my new surroundings and figure out my relationship to this environment and who is using it and how it is being used. I know I don’t want to be the kind of newcomer and recreationist who has a knee-jerk disapproval and judgment of logging in a region that depends on it. And I don’t necessarily believe that harnessing the water of the Columbia or Clackamas River to create hydroelectric power for the Portland metro area is bad…but I also am not sure if deep down I think it is right either.
The truth is that I do not have an informed enough view to develop the type of nuanced and intelligent opinion that I want to have. All I’ve got is instincts. I don’t know yet what it is like to live in a metropolitan area full of forest, mountains, rivers, and ocean and what it is like to have a relationship with these features as a recreationist and as a consumer of all the resources these things provide me. But these are essentially the questions that propel me into explorations and new adventures. I’m not sure what I would do if the answers actually appeared in front of me – easy, tangible, and concrete.
As I walked down the mountain a middle-aged and shirtless man was huffing his way up. I stepped off to the side to let him continue up and told him that he had the top of the mountain all to himself. “Right on, right on,” he said to me, “And, oh, by the way, there are is a cold present for you on the way down, but leave one for me.” As I slid down the rocks and cursed the blisters forming on my feet, I slipped down to see two Alaskan Ambers resting against a tree. So, yeah, whether or not I know the answers, I hope I will continue to meet every adventure with generosity and gratitude along my way.
posted by Debasaurus Wex at 7:00 PM
2 Comments:
Sometimes you don't know the aswers because you dont even know the right questions to ask.
...or something?
well done
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