WAHCLELLA FALLS - COLUMBIA RIVER GORGE

I got a new waterproof, breathable jacket for Christmas so I took it out for a test drive on the Wahclella Falls trail. The canyon walls rose on either side of me as I followed the path in along Tanner Creek. Heavy dark clouds scraped across the treetops enclosing the chasm below in a dark gray gloom.

Ice fell from the sky. Soft hail accumulated on the ground here and there. Like water overflowing leaf clogged gutters, streams and rivulets of instant tributaries poured into the valley.

The rain-jacket did an admirable job of keeping exterior water out, but I’m afraid no current technology is sufficient to dissipate the sweat produced by a feverish semi-fat man.

It seemed I had only got started, when the trail forked upward to the left or downward to the right. I chose to head upward and was soon surveying the lower trail as it snaked its way through an evident landslide.

The unremitting precipitation was making it difficult to keep my camera lens dry. I found a dry spot on my t-shirt and wiped the big drops off. I heard a noise behind me and whipped around to find an unassuming old man offering me an umbrella. In retrospect, I think maybe it was Picasso, but I guess I didn’t recognize him with his clothes on.

My first view of Wahclella Falls.

Some of the clouds were so dark that I thought perhaps night had come.

I took about fifty pictures of the falls, but almost all of them suffered from over-exposure so that all the detail was lost in the white areas. Over and over again, this created a featureless white void as a central focal point of non-interest. I tried to combat the loss of detail in the white frothy water by shortening my exposure times, but this strategy resulted in an associated loss of detail in the shadows. I was getting frustrated, especially because I’m pretty damn sure Picasso knew exactly how to fix this problem, but he continued his policy of not speaking – encouraging me to experience the fullness of ‘the journey’.

The trail looped around so that I could see I would soon be traversing the territory I had previewed from above. Periodically, I’d look back and try to find some award winning angle of the falls that nobody else had thought to shoot, but I didn’t find one, and I started feeling embarrassed, especially with Picasso patiently holding the umbrella for me.

At first I was also embarrassed about the umbrella. I didn’t think any self-respecting Oregonian would be caught with an umbrella in the rain. But time and again, the umbrella allowed me to take pictures without getting drops all over the lens, even when I tipped the camera upwards. When other hikers passed me, I’d say, “It’s not for me, it’s for the camera!” Usually, they would just kind of squint and step way, way out of my way.

For a brief moment, it looked like the clouds might break, and a rich yellow glow permeated the mist.

I felt happy for a minute – anticipating the sun.

But it began to pour.

TABLE MOUNTAIN: Columbia River Gorge Geology

In a previous blog entry, Bridge of the Gods (http://thenarrativeimage.blogspot.com/2007/03/bridge-of-gods.html), I noted that some geologists have posited a link between a landslide that likely occurred in the 1200s and local myths/legends describing a land-bridge across the Columbia.

Current, apparently misnamed, Bridge of the Gods.

John Eliot Allen, author of The Magnificent Gateway, writes, “The lobe of the latest (“Cascade”) slide covers about 5 ½ square miles. It diverted the river a mile to the south, and contained a dam long enough, in all probability, to give rise to the Indian legend of the “Bridge of the Gods”

Mr. Allen describes the unstable geologic situation like this. “Heavy Grande Rhone Basalt-flows cap Greenleaf Peak and Table Mountain, resting upon 1000 feet of weak, clay bearing Eagle Creek sediments.”

The trail I took to Table Mountain starts at the Bonneville trail head. It’s on the Washington side of the river across the highway from the Bonneville Dam’s visitor center parking lot. You can pick up a parking/forest pass at a Chevron station a couple miles west of the trail head (Five dollars for a day pass).

At the east end of the trail-head parking lot, find the Tamanous trail sign and proceed about a half a mile until you merge with the Pacific Crest Trail. A sign at the intersection almost counter intuitively points North and South. Go north, ultimately, along the Pacific Crest trail, though it will feel an awful lot like you are really going west. Whenever you come to an intersection, be sure you see the little metal Pacific Crest Trail diamonds posted in the trees when you resume your walk or you may be off track.

Heading down the trail toward Gillette Lake, I noted that were it not for the moss, you would think the landscape was still rolling. While some carbon dating results put the landslide event at about 1260 A.D., other geologists have attempted to date the slide by measuring lichen growth.

Gillette Lake has some nice camping sites and appears to periodically host beavers. There are remnants of lodge and dam building activities. I’m inclined to describe the color of Gillette lake as a green not found in nature, but that apparently can’t be accurate.

A little bit past Gillette Lake, the trail opens up onto what may be an old logging road and a clear cut area that affords a good view of the sheared away face of the mountain. This image shows Table Mountain as it appeared this year on March 3rd (left) and again on April 1st (right).

A former trail to the top of Table Mountain has been closed due to erosion and other environmental concerns. A posted sign encourages you to continue another half mile to this newer access point. If the trail so far has been a medium ‘5’, it is about to become a “9” and for old out of shape fat men, maybe an “11”.

Later on, there will be the additional psychological challenge of exposure to sheer drop-offs. I had to shield my eyes with my hands – like blinders – to keep focused on where I was placing my feet.

From this vantage point, you can see how the river bends to the south behind Bonneville Dam.

From the summit, looking east up the Columbia River gorge.

This ridgeline leads to the top (The point) of the sheer face of Table Mountain

In retrospect, I’m not sure it is a good idea to get this close to the edge of an unstable mountain with a demonstrated propensity to slide.



I thought it was hard going up the mountain, but my knees had a surprise for me when I started back down. Fortunately, I got off the rocky dangerous part well before dark. Limping past Gillette Lake on the way out, I was thankful I had my flashlight and my bag of survival gear – just in case (about 15 1/2 miles round trip).

Bridge of the Gods

“Long ago when the mountains were people…”

The Columbia River as seen from vantage point below the current Bridge of the Gods at Cascade Locks

The Great Spirit settled a land dispute between two brothers by giving them each territory on opposite sides of the Columbia. The Great Spirit made a bridge across the river as a sign of peace.

A natural land bridge on a somewhat smaller scale than the legendary one

The two peoples visited each other for many moons, but soon they became greedy and quarrelsome and began doing evil. The Great Spirit was displeased and stopped the sun from shining on them.

Clear cutting on the Pacific Crest Trail on the way to Table Mountain

The people had no fire and when the rains came, they became cold. They began to pray to the Great Spirit for fire.

Cloud shrouded trees at the edge of the Columbia

The Great Spirit sent an Old Woman (who still had fire) to the middle of the bridge to tend the fire for the people on both sides of the river. In exchange for this task the Old Woman was made young and beautiful.

Soon, the lodges were warm again and the people lived in harmony.

Mt. Hood (Wyeast)

Wyeast, a chief from south of the river and Klickitat a chief from north of the river began to vie for the attention of the beautiful young woman (Loo-wit) who tended the fire.

Mt St. Helens (Loo-wit) and Mt. Adams (Klickitat) ... um, o crap, maybe the one on the right is Rainer...um...but for sure the flat one on the left is St. Helens

Wyeast and Klickitat became jealous of each other. They fought. Their people took up the fight for them. Many warriors were killed.

The Great Spirit became angry and broke down the bridge. He turned the chiefs into mountains. Wyeast became Mt. Hood. Klickitat became Mt. Adams and the woman they fought over became Mt. St. Helens.

Even as mountains, the two chiefs continued to fight, sometimes hurling hot rocks and flame at each other.

Mt. St. Helens (not as pretty as she used to be)

Geological studies suggest that, not so long ago, a good portion of Table Mountain sheered off and slid into the Columbia, a historical event that may be the basis for the Bridge of the Gods legend.

Table Mountain as it appears from a logging road somewhere above Gillette Lake

NOTE: My source for this paraphrase of the Bridge of the Gods Legend is found in Indian Legends of the Northwest by Ella E. Clark. Evidently, Professor Clark's source for this Klickitat variant of the story was a woman named Lulu Crandall, a historian of the Dalles area who had some familiarity with Klickitat Indians because of her 'pioneer childhood'.