This past weekend was chock full of running and enjoying the wild lands around Portland. I had been gone the previous week, helping my father with a large-scale art installation in the prairie in Salina, Kansas, and flew home only late Friday night. I got to bed by midnight and, much to my disgust, had to set my alarm for 3:40 the next morning. Catching up on sleep would have to wait; adventures beaconed so I had no choice. Saturday was a 34-mile run around Mt. St. Helens on the Loowit Trail with a group of myself and 8 other awesome people/hardcore runners. That was an incredible experience and a whole story in its own right (friends have posted pictures and videos of the day). It’s Sunday’s adventure that I want to talk about here though: a classic, 24-mile loop through some of the most dramatic terrain that Oregon’s Mark O. Hatfield Wilderness has to offer.
I managed to get about 7 hours sleep after the St. Helens circumnavigation, but still the 6:45 am alarm on Sunday was a bit rough. I was settling in to a routine of partial sleep deprivation though so it wasn’t too bad. I got stiffly out of bed, my sore muscles and tight legs protesting this double whammy of a weekend. I felt good enough (and besides, this was part of my training) so I grabbed my stuff and headed out to meet Bryce, a friend and client who I am coaching to complete a notoriously technical and gnarly 20-mile mountain race in Bozeman, Montana. I took him out for 15 miles around Silver Star Mountain a few weeks prior and he’d struggled a bit on the demanding terrain. It was a reality check so we reassessed the plan and made few tweaks to his weekly mileage, toning it down a bit to aid in recovery. We were both hoping that he’d fare better this time. He needed to go into the Bridger Ridge Run riding a wave of confidence, sure of his abilities and fitness. It was my job, of course, to help him get there.
We drove from NW Portland out to the Gorge on 84 and parked at the Eagle Creek Recreation Area. I threw my NW Forest Pass on the dash, we made our last preparations, and then set off. It was only 8:30 so the crowds had not arrived yet. We were going to follow the loop counter clock-wise, the way I’d done it once before. We walked down the paved road to the bridge over Eagle Creek and began running when we hit dirt. We jogged the Gorge Trail 400 up and to the west, past the junction with the trail to the Wauna Viewpoint and on to Fire Road 777. We hiked the fire road, beginning to ascend in earnest, starting to chip away at the 4,400 ft. climb overall from the car to the summit of Tanner Butte. My legs felt a little touchy from the day before and some of the tendons and ligaments behind my right knee were tender. My body would feel better and better as I warmed up but I wanted to take things slow to start, for both of us. After all Bryce’s goal race is 20-miles long so pushing it too much on a 24-miler beforehand was unnecessary.
After hiking up the road for a mile we hit Tanner Butte Trail 401 that branched off to the left and began steeply switchbacking up the lush drainage, crisscrossing the babbling creek. The next 4.4 miles and 2,600 ft. from there is the bulk of the climb although the grade is moderate and quite runnable and the trail pine-needled, smooth and soft. I felt decent and was keeping a good pace on the uphills but Bryce had really found his groove and was evidently feeling much, much better than last time. He had settled into a low, steady gear and was cruising upwards with short, light steps. When he hiked he hiked strong and deliberate, with fine posture and good form. Occasionally I would put in the extra effort to catch up with him. It was great to see him feeling solid and able in the mountains.
The forest was filled with fog and the sun had not yet broken through. The drifting particles of moisture conducted our imaginary visions through the magical space of the stunning tree scape and we talked of seeing dinosaurs and mythical figures in the mist. The understory of the forest was open and spacious and our bodies and minds felt free to roam through it. I was surprised again at how flat and gentle the trail is once up on the Tanner Ridge proper. We reveled in the cruiser terrain and soft footing and kept a steady pace, feeling our legs adjusting nicely to the effort of the day.
Everything was simply perfect; the temperature, the cool, dewy air, the elegant earth. Sometimes the joy of it all is just indescribable. It is hard–most of the time downright impossible–to adequately express that feeling but it is unmistakable when you are out there and it fills your chest and won’t leave. There is an utterly soul-shaking perfection in nature that cannot be found in the toiling existence of humankind. There is a profoundly soul-wrenching, staggering beauty in humanity too, no doubt, but it’s different. We soaked it all in as best we could, running easily to the junction with the trail to the summit of Tanner Butte itself. We cut left and headed up, hiking the .4 miles to the top through open expanses of Indian Paintbrush, Bear Grass, and other wildflowers that grew rampantly amidst the rocks and thinning, dwarfed trees, their vibrant, pulsing colors strewn over the earth like confetti. We reached the craggy, rock-strewn peak and looked out at the blowing white fog all around us. We were enveloped in clouds (like on Chinidere Mountain a few weeks prior) so Bryce and I had to dream up our own views, conjuring them in our minds and then etching them with inspired whimsy onto the expanse before us. We drank and ate but moved on quickly as the cool, blowing air began to chill us. Back down we went.
Once on the main trail on the ridge again we continued south. It was pretty much all downhill from there, a long ~13 mile stretch from summit to car, gently dropping down to Eagle Creek on the Eagle-Tanner Trail 433 and then snaking along cliff edges, dancing carefully past the myriad precipices and plunging waterfalls. We descended past the cut off for Tanner Spring, then made our way past Thrush Pond and further down to Big Cedar Spring, nestled in a little miniature valley of its own below Point 3875. Soon the rushing waters of Eagle Creek came into ear-shot and the trail made its final switch back to the banks of the cold-flowing stream. I crouched and dunked my water bottle into the beautiful clear water and brought it to my lips. Ahhh, such a simple, basic pleasure. Drinking clean mountain water right from the source, a true privilege that all people should have the pleasure of experiencing. We paused for a moment and watched the moving water and listened to its intricate, fluid language. Indeed, it is a most elegant and soothing dialect.
We crossed the creek and found ourselves on the slightly tedious and technical mile or so section before the junction with the trail to Indian Mountain and Wahtum Lake. I was feeling pretty good and keeping an ok pace, but Bryce was altogether another story, like he was a different person than last trip. He was relentlessly steady and ran easy and smooth throughout, staying nimble on his feet and dancing over the thousand dagger-like rocks that comprised the last miles of trail. His improvement was marked and I was delighted to see it. He’d been putting in the work, spending the time training, and he’d be heading to Montana ready to go. His wave of confidence was rising like a distant swell, approaching on the horizon, clear as day.
From the trail junction to Indian Mountain/Wahtum Lake it was just over 7 miles to the car. We’d both traveled that section many times before and knew the dramatic sights we’d see and the crowds we’d encounter. It would be like on Mt. Adams though, again just a couple weeks before. I could lament the crowded trails and bemoan the lack of solitude or I could accept that Eagle Creek is nearly always filled with people and find pleasure in the fact that folks are getting outside and being active, appreciating nature. Once again I chose the latter.
I am always (re)surprised at how incredibly exposed the trail along Eagle Creek is. Truly hair-raising: one misstep and that’s it. You’re done for. That when it’s time for that extra bit of focus, when being mindful of your foot strikes on the violently rocky surface takes on dire importance. Every one out there can plainly see the danger of it, maybe that’s one of the reasons it’s so popular. Feeling death nearby makes us feel all the more alive. I gazed over the side of the one of the biggest, sheerest drops and got a little queasy, looking straight down at a deep blue pool a least 100 ft. below. We reached Tunnel Falls around the next bend and it was spectacular and dramatic as always. It’s hard not to think you’ve been miraculously transported to a tropical island paradise when passing through the chasm behind the falls and getting sprayed by its mist.
As expected the crowds steadily increased as we grew closer to the car. We passed groups of backpackers, old and young, boys and girls, men and women, hiking out after a night (or more) under the stars. We called out when passing and said thanks and offered greetings as we went, trying to be exceedingly polite and courteous to the others on the trail. There’s absolutely no reason not to spread good cheer in the outdoors, to openly celebrate our shared passions as nature-loving humans. It seems unfortunate in such a beautiful setting to merely pass our fellow travelers without a word, like strangers on a city street. We finally reached the trailhead and the pavement, still about a half mile from the car on the road, 5 hours and 45 minutes after beginning. Usually I run that last section to finish strong but that day I couldn’t have cared less and so Bryce and I cooled down and let our legs relax as we strolled along, soaking in post-run glory. Back at the car we dropped our running packs and ditched the shoes for flip-flops, then piled in and set off. Once again the first stop was Cascade Locks for pints at the Pacific Crest Pub & Hostel. We raised our IPAs and said cheers, celebrating Bryce’s fine performance, his upcoming race, and a great day in the mountains.
I bought a hiking guidebook to the Columbia Gorge a while back and it had the Tanner Butte-Eagle Creek Loop as a featured hike. I remember it saying that it was one of the very best backpacking routes in all of Oregon. I still have a lot of exploring to do in our great state but after completing the loop twice I would have to agree that it’s an absolutely top notch journey through quintessential Oregon wilderness. Over rugged peaks, through the Bear Grass and wildflowers and into deep cliff-lined valleys, this is an amazing and worthy endeavor whether done in one day or three.
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