My favorite place is burning

My favorite place is burning.

This past weekend my brother in law and his girlfriend came into town for their first Portland visit. We had a great time. On Friday, me and Keeley took them to Multnomah Falls, and we did the Mult-Wahk loop. It was a good hike, we even called in a 911 rescue for an older lady who broke her ankle high on the Wahkeena falls trail. Since this was about the 5th or 6th time I've done this hike (or a variation on it), I didn't bother to take any pictures. I now wish I had, because one week later, none of it may remain.

On Saturday, sometime in the afternoon, some dipshit teenager with no regard for nature was apparently chucking firecrackers into the Eagle Creek Valley. It set some dry brush alight, and now the entire western end of the gorge is on fire. People had to be evacuated from the Eagle Creek Trail, the highway is closed, and Cascade Locks is threatened. After some strong winds overnight, the Multnomah Lodge is now threatened. The fire even jumped onto Archer Mtn, on the Washington side.

It's hitting me so much harder than I ever thought it could.

I fell in love with the Gorge the first moment I saw it. Descending into the far eastern gorge on I-84 when I moved to Oregon in November of 2010. It blew me away. I saw a lot of neat stuff on my cross country trip but this felt different, immediate, somehow secret. I had never heard of the Columbia River Gorge before, I had no idea it existed. Despite millions of people's travels here, it felt like I had discovered something just for me. I'll never forget that drive.

Since that first impression, I've made it my favorite spot. When I need to get away, really get away, that's where I go. There are tons of amazing hiking options in my immediate area, but I'm always drawn to the Gorge. I've gone out of my way to educate myself on the geography, learn the history, and admire the story of this place. There hasn't been a small number of occasions where I've debated trying for a job in the forest service so I can get posted out there and spend every day in it.  I've skipped out on what I'm sure are amazing other hike options by Mt. Hood or the Coast just so I can wander off trail through some bushes near a path no one takes in the Gorge. I love the Gorge. It is my backyard, the adult replacement for my actual childhood backyard woods where I used to wander, alone in thoughts and adventures. I've always found a solace and peace I can't get any other way when I'm off on my own like this.

When I was a kid I'd build forts in the woods and explore. I would go catch falling leaves in the yard for hours on end. In college I discovered biking and would tear through the back farm roads of Rochester by myself, only needing myself, and upon moving out here I found my much needed solitary outlet in hiking. I do it with Keeley as often as I can, but I still consider some of my solitary walks in the woods to be when I am most truly at peace in a way nothing else provides. I've never gone to the coast or Mt. hood by myself. I've only gone to the Gorge and Forest Park, and forest park served as my backup option. The Gorge is my solace. It hurts me, it invigorates me, it challenges me and it makes me happy. And it's burning. 

I've experienced natural disasters before, but mostly just felt curiosity about them. When Annapolis flooded after Hurricane Isabel in high school, I found the results utterly fascinating. There is a distance between how you view disasters when they don't personally affect you. I feel horrible for the people in Houston right now, but there is still a disconnect between me and them. But with this...this actually hurts in a personal way. This feels personal in a way I've never experienced. These are places I've joyously tread, places where I have incredibly fond memories. A part of me feels like it is being lost as the fire burns. I can't imagine what some lifelong outdoorsy Oregonians feel right now.

The Gorge basically reinvigorated my love of hiking and I go out there to hike at minimum once per month year round. I was at Larch Mountain two weeks ago. Multnomah this weekend. Last month we did Ruckel Ridge. I did the Elevator Shaft in April. I hiked Eagle Creek with a friend just in May. I hiked the Triple Falls trail with my work-friends in June. I did Wyeth and Devils Rest too. All of these hikes are going to look very different soon. Depending on if the fire destabilizes the ground, the Ruckel Ridge path may not be hike-able ever again. High Bridge, halfway up Eagle Creek, may not be passable for years if the bridge is damaged. I feel fortunate to have been able to hike as much of this area as I have before this happened. My only real misses in the current fire zone is Tanner Butte, the entire Larch Mountain trail, and a few extensions off Eagle Creek. Outside that plus a few minor niggles, I basically did everything.

It's all going up in flames. Eagle Creek, Ruckel, Wauna, Wachella, and Munra Point are for sure toast. The Benson, Herman Creek and Dry Creek falls, plus Elowah, Nesmith, Oneonta area, they are also burning.

I didn't bother doing all of Bell Creek last week, now it may be gone forever. That's haunting.

All of this because of some dumb kid. I'm not even all that mad at the kid. Fires are natural, even though this was caused by negligence. It wasn't a campfire incorrectly managed. It wasn't a lightning strike. It was intentional ignorance and negligence. I don't want the kid to rot, but I want him to be forced to do service fixing what damage he can feasibly fix for a long time. People may still die here. As of this writing, nobody's dead yet, and most of the damage is to the woods and the trails therein. But ultimately, something like this was always bound to happen, and most of my sadness stems from the knowledge that the place I loved will be forever changed now. It's gone. The remains are literally ash sitting on my car 30 miles away.

I'll post some of my favorite photos here of places that are probably gone or affected. These views will likely never look the same:

Skoonichuk Falls, right in the path of the blaze

Punchbowl Falls, near ground zero

Punchbowl canyon

Punchbowl Canyon

Tunnel Falls, 4 miles upstream from ground zero, likely affected

Loowit Falls, close to High Bridge

Punchbowl from above

On the path to Nesika Lodge

The Elevator Shaft

The Multnomah Spine, the fire has reached past this to the lodge, this ridge is likely bare

Multnomah Basin is probably toast

Nesika Lodge may be lost

The beautiful basin road

Munra Ridge

This valley is on fire

The crumbled outhouse of Nesmith may vanish for good

Oneonta Gorge, a wonderful spot treasured by many

The view from Buck Point, which is likely gone

The base of Munra ridge

Wachella Falls, just a mile west of Eagle Creek, and a place my friends got engaged on my own recommendation

Ponytail Falls

The view on a crisp morning at Rock of Ages

Triple falls, seen by many of my work friends just 3 months ago

The view from rock of ages, a perilous trail that may lose any possible path to reach it once more

Rock of Ages arch, one of the most amazing spots in the gorge

The benson plateau, at the top of ruckel, maybe a mile uphill from ground zero

The eagle creek valley from ruckel ridge

Dublin lake, way up in the hills on the east side of the Eagle creek valley

Angels Rest, not too far from the current flames

Fairy Falls on the Wahkeena Trail

Eagle Creek

Eagle Creek

Tanner butte

The Eagle Creek valley from above

Eagle Creek from Indian Mountain

Eagle Creek Valley

Punchbowl Falls from above

My favorite sunset ever over the Eagle Creek valley

In many years this area will be a whole new kind of beautiful. The dead trees will give up their footholds and landslides will abound, changing the landscape. Wildflowers will flourish, the bare slopes and the views will be even better with half the trees missing. But until then, it's going to be an ugly maze of death and sadness all because some fuckwit teen wanted to set off a flashbang.

I'll be hiking the remains this winter and next year, with a mixture of fascination and sadness. Until then, I guess all I have left are my pictures and my memories of what it looked like before. I'll miss you, old gorge. Time to see what you can come back to.