Where in the Sam Hill am I?

Child free weekends are so rare that you must seize them and make the most of that opportunity. This past weekend, that event -- rarer than a blue moon -- occurred at our house. And make the most of it we did.


I won't make you suffer through hearing about my husband kidnapping me and dragging me kicking and screaming to Skamania Lodge. (Well, maybe it wasn't kicking and screaming.) I certainly didn't complain when we sat  in the outdoor hot tub and watched the full moon. Or when I was enjoying a hot cocktail with huckleberry creme brulee. (Which I am still wanting seconds of.) And I didn't complain when, after yet another trip to the hot tub in the morning, there was an unadvertised breakfast buffet (due to the chainsaw convention happening at the resort. Everyone thought my husband was a lumberjack and we were there to attend) I got to eat all the bacon and salmon hash with fresh tomato compote I could eat, and I did. No, I won't bore you with those details at all......

View from Skamania Lodge

Where was I? Oh yes, there are just some things you can't do with kids. Most people might just enjoy the quiet of home, take a nap, get some projects done in the absence of two high maintenance little girls. Not us. We decided to take an epic day road trip since there was no chance of any whining coming from the backseat of the Rover. (I prefer to do all my whining from the front seat.) Yes, it never fails, 2 miles after we pass the last gas station/rest area for 50 miles, I have to use the bathroom like I haven't gone in days. But I digress.


We started the epic journey by driving east on Highway 14, the Washington side of the Gorge, with no particular destination in mind. There were many "Ohh...what is that! Stop!" moments. Dog Creek Falls, a particularly interesting railroad tunnel, and Horsethief Butte.

My husband at Dog Creek Falls

Our first stop. Stonehenge. Well, faux Stonehenge. As it would have looked when it was originally built, and they used concrete. Built by Sam Hill as a memorial to soldiers from Klickitat County who perished in WWI. I won't bore you with the rest of the historic details, that's what Wikipedia is for. However, if you haven't been here, the view alone is worth the trip. To be honest, this is probably as close to the real Stonehenge as I will really get, and, unless someone asks for the details, when they ask what you did over the weekend, and you say you went to Stonehenge, won't they be impressed?

Stonehenge with a Columbia River Gorge view.

Sun over Stonehenge

From there we crossed the Columbia back into Oregon and the town of Biggs. We still didn't have a specific destination in mind, but it was time to fill the tank. I then decided that I must go to Shaniko, since we were so close. (Close being over an hour away, but in relative terms, close. Hey we were in Eastern Oregon. That counted as close!)


For anyone who has traveled down Highway 97 from the Columbia River south, or in a lot of spots in Eastern Oregon, there isn't a whole lot to see if you aren't enthralled with sagebrush and rocks. I happen to be enthralled with both, my husband, eh, not so much, but, if you look and pay attention, there is actually more to see than you might think.


This is ranch country. This is the part of Oregon where the wool for the legendary Pendelton blankets originally came from, along with the sheep ranches, there were -- and still are -- many cattle ranches. There are lots of historic abandoned houses, barns, windmills, and other buildings along the way that make for interesting pictures if you are so inclined.

Windmill near Moro, Oregon

There was one particular homestead that caught my eye. It was far off the highway, down a dirt road, and I just had to stop and get closer -- until I saw the dead coyote hanging off the fence at the end of the road. Immediately, scenes from every creepy horror movie I have ever seen came to my mind. My husband explained that when coyotes start killing chickens or whatever other type of farm animal, the problem animal will be hunted, and then hung as a warning to other predators to stay away. This sounded particularly barbaric to me, and I certainly didn't want to be hung from a barbed wire fence as a warning to other tourists who considered trespassing to get a few pictures. The husband just laughed at me, and we drove down the road to get a bit closer. I was very glad we did. I got some incredible pictures, including one of a windmill that I am particularly fond of, and no one will be waiting until spring to find our bodies somewhere out in the snow covered high desert.

Abandoned Homestead

Close-up Shot of Windmill

After that, the rest of the trip wasn't particularly thrilling. We stopped in Shaniko and the town was pretty much locked down for the winter, i.e. absence of tourists. We continued on south to Madras, made a pit stop for tater tots at Sonic (mmmmmm tater tots). By this time I had lost the light, and we traveled over Mount Hood in the dark and on to home.

Old truck outside the Blacksmith Shop in Shaniko

In summary, over 260 miles, 400 pictures and six potty breaks later, we made it home to our recliners and take out Chinese from our favorite place in Sandy. An epic road trip it was. I think Sam Hill the road builder would have been proud!!


(By the way, did I mention the huckleberry creme brulee at Skamania Lodge is incredible???)

The Trees Don't Care What You Look Like - Wahclella Falls

The trees don’t care what you look like. They don’t care if you haven’t done your hair, if you are wearing your grubby jeans, and definitely not about the amount of makeup you are wearing. On a recent Sunday I had spent the morning doing housework and definitely was not at my most attractive. I was getting an itch to get out of the house, but didn’t feel like getting prettied up either. Since the rain seemed to be holding off and a couple of rays of sunshine were peeking out, a hike in the Gorge with my oldest daughter and dog was the perfect solution.

My youngest child was at the coast visiting her grandparents. My husband was ensconced in other projects, so this was a rare opportunity to spend some quality time with the tween and explore a trail we haven’t visited before. Normally, I don’t take my 4 year old on a trail I have never been on before. She is just too rambunctious and I like to be completely aware of whatever “dangers” might exist. So, it was seize the opportunity now or wait an undetermined amount of time until it presented itself again. We headed out with no particular destination in mind.

Sign at the trailhead.

I have driven by the trailhead to Wahclella Falls an innumerable amount of times. Normally, we take the left instead of the right and head straight to Bonneville Fish Hatchery to feed the trout, one of the kids’ favorite things to do. I recently looked information about the trail online, so, about the time we passed the Bridal Veil exit on I-84 I decided this would be our destination. I was not sorry about my decision at all.

Tanner Creek

The first part of the trail is really a service road that runs parallel to Tanner Creek. A beautiful way to start, with the sound of the running water, small cascades and trees almost completely covered in bright green moss. You cross a bridge next to a very small waterfall that runs down a rock face, that you can literally reach out and touch. From there, the trail turns to gravel, a little rocky in places and starts climbing. Close to the falls there is a fork in the trail, one heading down the hill and into the canyon, another that continues up. We continued on the “high road”, leaving the lower trail for a future visit. After about a mile hike, you are rewarded with the spectacular view of the falls spouting from the basalt cliff.

Wahclella Falls

The hike back to the car we just enjoyed the sound of the creek. There weren't a ton of people on the trail this day, but we saw a little bit of everyone. From some older ladies to a couple carrying a baby, and all ages in between.

The dog and the tween on the trail.

Speaking of carrying babies, my little 6 pound minature pinscher did not enjoy the hike as much as we did. In fact, by the time we got the the actual waterfall, she was begging to be picked up. My daughter ended up taking pity on her and carried her the entire way back to the trailhead. I don't think the dog has really forgiven me yet, but I think most humans, even those not in great hiking shape, would enjoy this almost two mile round trip. It wasn't too strenuous, and we returned home more relaxed than when we left. Not a bad way to end a weekend if you ask me!!

Want to go check out this gem for yourself? Friends of the Columbia Gorge had a great website that has a tool for planning hiking trips all over the area. Click here for more information on the hike we took!

Columbia Gorge Ice

Frozen waterfalls in the Columbia River Gorge, what photographer can resist that? I surely couldn’t. My oldest daughter had a doctor’s appointment earlier this week, so that afternoon was a perfect opportunity to take the drive out the old highway and capture a few images. 

 

Problem was, apparently things weren't quite as frozen as they once were. The East Wind (also known as the Chinook Wind), which blows through the Gorge and creates a very chilly wind tunnel this time of year, had abated. So Mother Nature’s ice sculptures were now starting to melt again and become cascades of water. Which my oldest daughter and I found out the hard way, literally.

 

While completely engrossed in one particular ice formation near Oneonta Gorge, I heard the rumbling that one can only take as a rock slide. Only this time, it was a shower of softball size chunks of ice and jagged icicles. As I turned to run for cover, one large piece hit my camera lens glass straight on, my hand, and my ankle. By some miracle, my lens was encrusted with ice, but not even a scratch. I have no clue how it survived unscathed, but being grateful is an understatement.

 

My daughter, on the other hand, didn’t fare as well. Ice hit her square on the top of the head. Tears were streaming down her face. “Mommy, my head hurts.” At this point I launched into full panic mode. I was convinced that the blood was going to start streaming down her face at any second, and I was going to have to race to the nearest ER. 

Again, another stroke of luck. No gaping wound, just a small little bump. I grabbed a chunk of ice from the ground, one of the very pieces that had just assaulted us, and wrapped it in her scarf, and put it on her head to keep the swelling down. I told my daughter that was probably the piece that hit her in the head, and now it was going to make her feel better. At that point we both laughed pretty hard at the irony of that, and she forgot that her head was throbbing, almost as quickly as it fell from the cliff and on her head. We both realized how lucky we were that neither of us had a concussion, broken bone, or some other serious injury.

 

The moral of the story: When nature gives you a head wound, make an ice pack.