Forever on Our Mind: Beautiful Benches of Oregon, Part I
The first in a series of essays that celebrate the many beautiful benches of Oregon
98. Beautiful Benches of Oregon, Part I
Note: One of my favorite things about hiking is taking a break from hiking—whether to drink some water, admire the view, or rest my “barking dogs” (as my grandmother liked to say). With years of occasionally not hiking under my belt, I’ve developed a deep appreciation for a well-placed bench along the trail. This is the first in a series of pieces that pay tribute to the most beautiful benches in Oregon.
***
May 2018:
I've barely stepped onto the Carroll Rim Trail at the Painted Hills when I realize my mistake: I should turn around, grab a cold IPA back at Tiger Town Brewing Co., and save what's left of my energy for the rest of this marathon weekend.
I'm researching an Oregon hiking guidebook and am trying to cram 21 miles and four hikes into this three-day trip through the John Day River Basin. I notched nearly eight miles and more than 1,000 feet of climbing at Lookout Mountain earlier today, and my meager lunch—a pair of chocolate-chip Clif Bars and a few gulps of water—isn't providing the sustenance I need on this sunny spring afternoon.
Even so: The trail measures just 1.7 miles round-trip, with about 250 feet of elevation gain. I figure I can power through, so I go for it. Wings and beer can wait.
Midway up the slope of the wide-open hillside, I see a bench overlooking the Painted Hills’ namesake formations—so I take it as a sign and help myself to the breather.
So much of the time, I arrive at viewpoints and can’t help but figure that's the way it's always been. For example: I know Crater Lake occupies the heart of a volcano that rose 12,000 feet before spewing tons of ash in one of recorded history’s largest eruptions. I know all that, but it’s too massive, too overwhelming, to comprehend. My brain can't put the puzzle pieces together and turn that knowledge into anything other than a Bill & Ted-inspired "Whoa." When I admire the lake's deep blue hue, all I can do is believe the reservoir has been there since the beginning of time.
I'm under no such illusion at this viewpoint, where I have a front row seat to history that shakes my heart and soul like a snow globe.
More than 40 million years ago, crocodiles, four-toed horses, and pig-like oreodonts patrolled this basin in one of its previous lives as a lush rain forest. Volcanic activity, acid rain, plate tectonics, changing ecosystems, and relentless erosion gradually shaped and sculpted the site before me today: folded hillsides bisected by brilliant, clay-like bands of rust, wheat, gold, and coal. This afternoon’s sunshine appears to have touched them up with a fresh coat of paint.
It’s a painting that Mother Nature has been perfecting since the beginning of time—and evidence that her masterpiece is not yet complete.
I try to imagine forests of gingko and long-extinct animals parading across the landscape before me. I consider how lucky I am to be present for this sliver of a second across a span that dates back 44 million years. I wonder what the future holds for these colorful mounds; what lies beneath the surface, and how long will it take to find out? Will they still be the Painted Hills in a hundred years? A thousand?
It's too much history, and too far-fetched, to consider. My brain short-circuits. I take a few photos of the wavy hillsides below, drink a bit of water, and mutter to no one at all: "Whoa."
This newsletter is free—but if you enjoyed this essay and would like to support my work and travels around Oregon, you can make a one-time or monthly donation at Buy Me a Coffee or via the button below:
And if you’re not already a subscriber, you can learn more about “Forever on Our Mind: 1,859 Love Letters to Oregon” and click the button below to subscribe to this weekly email: