There are occasional events in one’s life that are cemented in memory. For me, those times have often involved wilderness experiences. Some people are “city folks.” Others like me, turn their eyes to Creation’s natural areas where human footprints are much less distinct. How about you? Where do you seek solitude for reflection and prayer? Do you recall a time and event that was special to you? Occasionally one is given the privilege of reliving such an event years later. It is such an experience that I share here.
Forty years ago, my son Bret and I backpacked up Eagle Creek in the Columbia Gorge past Tunnel Falls. We left the trail and followed the creek until we found the same spot where my daughter Jodi and I had camped a few years earlier – a small open space with a carpet of moss-covered rocks adjacent to the stream teeming with trout. In the quiet stillness of that place, we spent two days – one of those “thin places” that I have spoken of previously.
Bret and I have been planning a return trip for some years. We both agree that the 16-mile round trip would not be wise for me, an 80-year-old, to tackle in a single day. Bret’s birthday was September 26. The morning of the 27th found us on the trail accompanied by Lisa, Bret’s very special girlfriend. Our goal – to reach lower and upper Punch Bowl Falls and perhaps lower bridge. That would be a 9-mile round trip – enough for us at this stage of our lives.
Work on Eagle Creek trail began in 1910 accompanying the construction of the first highway through the Columbia Gorge. The story is told online if you wish to check it out. The trailhead is only a couple of miles from Bonneville Dam. You might stop by Bonneville to enjoy the fish ladder during salmon season and meet Herman III, the 11-foot white sturgeon.
At the trailhead we enjoyed watching spawning Chinook Salmon “digging” their nests (redds) in the gravel. Next to the salmon, a pair of Dippers, small dark birds were foraging, often descending under the water where they fed on aquatic insects on the submerged rock surfaces. A bit further up the trail, I looked for my old friend, the base of a petrified tree that had been buried millions of years of years ago by volcanic ash.
As we continued up the trail, we entered the burn area of the 2017 fire that decimated 50,000 acres. It was started by a 15-year-old boy throwing fireworks into a dry ravine. I had long wanted to see the impact of the fire on this precious (sacred to me) area. The scars of the fire are everywhere. But along the trail some of the largest fire-adapted Douglas Fir survived. These were trees with bark several inches thick. Where the fire remained a ground fire (scorching nearly everything at ground level), the thick bark protected the largest trees. Where the fire reached the canopy, the trees had no chance. Unlike deciduous trees, conifers that are defoliated nearly all die. It was remarkable to see the recovery of the ground vegetation and the resilience of the entire ecosystem after 7 years.
Proceeding up the trail, Stellar’s Jays were frequently calling as were their larger relatives, Common Ravens. A Common Wood Nymph Butterfly flitted by quickly. In a sunny spot that soaked up the heat from Fall’s waning sun, a garter snake slithered across the trail and two lizards darted under rocks before I could determine their species. The beautiful body of a golden buprestid beetle lay beside the trail and demanded a moment of our time. Soon we passed Upper Punch Bowl Falls, and my memory turned to the cool, refreshing water on a hot summer afternoon years before.
Like many things in life, time passed too quickly. We reached lower bridge, had lunch, and turned back for the two-hour return hike of 4.5 miles followed by a 5+ hour drive home. This was a most special day for me. My sense of place was strong, and I was able to greet and say thank you to many old “friends” — and to meet a few new ones. And yes, there were even people we passed! Opportunities like this for me are now rare. I was able to “see” not only through my eyes (past and present), but also through Bret’s eyes of 40 years ago and his new sense of growing awareness and wonder. And Lisa just soaked it all in!
Time moves on and I cherish my memories. Would any of you reading this story care to share such an experience you have enjoyed? I would love to have you as a guest writer in a future Creation’s Corner. Think about it. Are you an artist? How do you “see” the world? A musician? How does Creation shape the music you hear and write? We together have many stories that could be shared.
A prayer: Lord, may we sense your presence every day! But we also ask for those special moments when we can reach out and seemingly touch the reality of eternity. Guide us as we walk in your Kingdom today and provide us with a glimpse of the glory to come. Amen!
Thanks for listening.
— Joe Sheldon
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