Tag Archives: Sandy River

Snapshot 8

07 Tuesday Jan 2014

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Cascade Locks from the Port; Loree Harrell, 2012

The dogs and I hiked to the river tonight.   In truth, I wouldn’t have gone if the dogs weren’t promised a daily run down the trail – it was a long day and my head was tired, my body was junk, and all I wanted truly was to curl up in a warm bed and sleep.  But as soon as we started the hike down, I was glad I was there walking in the cold in the dark in a circle of light .

And then, two miles later, we walked out of the forest onto the beach by the river, and it was one of those moments when delight and peace are real things that you can feel in every cell of body and heart.  The mists of the morning had left tiny sparkling jewels all over the sand and the rocks and the bare branches and the brown leaves, the crescent moon was low over the river and dancing the water in light, and the stars were brilliant in a sky that endlessly black velvet blue that only a crystal night sky can be.

We sat by the river for a long time, and, once,  I wished for a camera and the skills to show you.  And then was glad of not having them.  Sometimes it’s enough for something to exist just for one person.

We stayed for a long time,
and then walked back up a hill through a winter forest with star-laden branches,
and went to sleep.

LLH;  01.05.14;  7:00p
Sandy River
Corbett, Oregon

Image: Bridge Of The Gods from the Cascade Locks Port;  Loree Harrell, 2013
Image related to the words only by virtue of a sparkle on the water, but it seemed the Snapshot series should have a snapshot.

Thanks Giving

25 Monday Nov 2013

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Thankful for…

Beaver fwap… slightly annoyed with the three dogs on the bank.
You can tell the locals – they can cross the bridge even when there’s another car crossing.
Sandy River Gorge rain puddle
Sandy River Gorge – last blast of fall.
Friendly neighborhood beaver.
Rest a minute
…and run
Red huckleberries on Larch Mountain.
Raspberry season at Kerslake Farms.
SOLD! : )
Terri Clark image
Max sampling the fortified water.
Ana’s turkeys – complete with dog licking chops.

This place in the world.

Every day.

 

Turkeys courtesy of Daniel Baxter and Ana Chad Mosley. : ))

Yes, It’s Raining. But!…

02 Saturday Nov 2013

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Sandy River Gorge rain puddle

Sandy River Gorge rain puddle

It looks like we have a week of wet coming up, so I’m going to tell you a little secret that might clutter up my winter trails a bit.

That rain that is pounding the windshield of your car, and looking like the outside world is unfit for man and beast?

When you’re walking in it, on a slightly muddy trail through a forest with wet-shined leaves, it isn’t nearly as intense as when you’re doing 60 mph down the freeway with the wipers flapping in your face.

In fact, if you have on good boots, a hat, and (preferably) some good rain pants (because wet jeans bite),  and maybe a dog or three, you’re pretty much guaranteed to enjoy the day.   My experience has been that if you’re committed to go no matter what, the rain will even work around you, and hold off until three minutes after you’re back in the car (the past two days we haven’t had a drop of anything other than wet from brushing through the ferns, and then the downpour has hit on the way back down the hill).  Throw a cuddly sweatshirt in the car to change into when you get back, and enjoy this third season.

Beaver fwap... slightly annoyed with the three dogs on the bank.

Beaver fwap… slightly annoyed with the three dogs on the bank.

You might even catch one of the local denizens who thinks everyone has gone home for the year.

Have fun out there : )
Loree

Beaver Dance

14 Saturday Sep 2013

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I noticed a new pile of sticks across the river last month.  It’s an oddish place for a beaver to build a den in the summer, as the beach on this side gets heavy and exuberant use when the sun is shining, so it didn’t really register, but we hit an afternoon after some rain last week and got to watch the show.

Beaver1

Just before this shot, the beaver had been coming towards the three Mergansers who were minding their own business floating about and enjoying the day.

Beaver2

Then he turned and headed upstream.  It was unclear, as I don’t actually know how beaver brains work, whether the Mergansers were a perceived threat (what kind of threat could a duck be to a beaver?), or if they had a past history of hanging around to purposely annoy him, or if it was some sort of catch me if you can game.

Beaver3

You would think that a human would be a larger threat than a duck (maybe beavers species memory has forgotten the whole Hat thing), but he came right down in front of me…

Beaver4

… before another of the Mergansers arrived and he turned…

Beaver5

… to find the rest of the family taking up position.

Beaver6

At the point the last two flew in and he was surrounded, he gave a good thwack and dove.  I had a bad moment thinking a duck was going to get pulled under the surface (probably an unreasonable fear, but, again, I don’t know how beaver brains work).

Beaver7

Having been totally oblivious up to this point, the thwack! got Max and Ebb’s attention.

Beaver8

The Mergansers took up position in the front yard again, with the beaver patrolling the perimeter.

IMG_4031

Beaver9

Max and Ebb were on the beach watching, and the beaver was swimming in circles between the Mergansers and the dogs…

Beaver10

… until the beaver finally got thoroughly fed up with all the unwanted company and dove with a huge and very clear fwap of the tail.

Beaver11

Someday, we really need to learn about that swimming thing.

all images Loree Harrell; 2013

Snapshot No. 5

22 Wednesday May 2013

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Sometimes it’s all gray and green, cottonwood fluff…

cottonwood fluff2

and sweet sweet blue.

Sweet sweet blue

I love the living smell of spring –  the pungencies of cottonwood and warming damp earth, of scotch broom and wet dog. 

Almost a match for the abundance of green.

[cellphone pics, dusk, and drizzle… ]

Snapshot No. 2

10 Wednesday Apr 2013

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WP_20130401_021

The dogs stopped and turned into the last sun through the trees towards the long low growl across the river, and listened.
It faded, and they stood another minute and returned to the trail.

The growl came again, in the distance on the other side of the gorge, and, once again, they turned to the edge of the bluff and waited to know, then continued up the trail.

WP_20130401_020

The third time the growl echoed through the trees, both turned to listen, then one turned to the woman, a clear question in his eyes.

WP_20130401_019

She laughed and said, “Crotch rocket”.

Both dogs turned and continued uphill towards home and dinner, the next growl unheeded.

Trail in the Sandy River Gorge.  Max and Ebb listening, King ahead on the trail, being old enough to know better.
Cell phone pics at dusk.

And… GO, FISH!

27 Wednesday Mar 2013

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The smelt are running in the Sandy!!!  If your response is yeah, yeah, there are fish in, of all places, the river and so…?, then it’s likely that you didn’t grow up around here forever ago like I did.  When I was a kid [not quite forever ago, but slightly back in the mists] the freezer was always full of smelt. 

I hated them.  Tiny fish so you just eat the bones and I just can’t quite eat fish bones, BUT, boy was it a good day at the river to go dip them.  And Dad and Mom liked them.  I think.  Although they also claimed to like the asparagus pie debacle, so…

smelt_oregonlive

And then they quit running.  The last big run was in 1980 (I’m taking that from the City Of Troutdale site as in 1980 I wasn’t thinking about much beyond who was playing at The Last Hurrah that night, so I didn’t actually notice).  There were small runs in 2001 and 2003, but it’s been ten years since they were back in the river, and words like massive and enormous are being used to describe this run.

There won’t be any dipping this year as they were placed on the endangered list in 2010, so, while there’s some discussion about whether their absence was just part of an existing cycle we don’t have enough perspective to see, it’s illegal to possess them at this time (fishermen, that includes picking up a dead one on the shore for bait). 

Smelt3_Doug Beghtel

Therefore, I would suggest you get to the Troutdale Bridge, or the beach by Lewis & Clark or Glenn Otto, and witness a bit of this massive!, enormous! run of millions of fish for yourself.  That’d be where I’m heading today.

Pictures Doug Beghtel, The Oregonian.  Read more here!

Well that’ll put a rose in those cheeks!

22 Tuesday Jan 2013

Posted by in And Around, Day Trips, Other Side Of The Inside Of The Box

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It has been one wicked windy few days.  Utterly beautiful blue skies, frosts in the mornings, and an all around visual delight.

But bundle on up before you go out there, it has been one wicked windy few days.

You would think that those of us who have lived here our entire lives would be used to it.  However, I have come to the personal conclusion that there are things you never get used to and will push against to your last breath.  For me, the wind is one of those.  I’m good with cold, I’m okay with hot (yes, we do get hot.  Think back.), but when you add those 52 mph gusts to a 32 degree temp, I’m out.  Could I please have the 14.1 degrees straight in calm air?  [Want to know where I got that number?  Here’s a cool toy for those of us who live in the wind.  Wind chill / temp conversion tool.  You can thank me later.]

However, I would like to point out a couple bright spots in the midst…
1)  You look very healthy when you come indoors (once you get the hair back off of the wrong side of your head and other humans can see your face) with a flattering rosy glow.
2)  If you’re having trouble waking up in the morning and getting into your day, save the five bucks for the coffee and just step outside.
3)  When you take your dogs up to that stretch between Corbett and Aims for the run down to the river,  that calm clear cold under a clear-star-sky moon will absolutely redeem any lingering annoyance with the environment.

Larch Mountain blocks the east wind completely where the dogs and I take our nightly hike to the Sandy River.  Completely.  We pile into the van in the chaos and drive up the hill, and we step out into pure peace.

"Hey, what do you want from a cell phone in the dark?"

“Hey, what do you want from a cell phone in the dark?”

It is such a gift.  The waxing moon has lit the trail almost to no-flashlight level, the river is sparkling under the occasional mist, the rocks are beautifully frosted, it’s the perfect temperature for the long hike back up the hill, and everyone else is huddled at home around the woodstove, leaving the trail, and the forest, and the river,
to just us.

It is a good thing.