Hawaii, Owyhee...uh, Böglands (Part Four)

As near as I’ve been able to calculate, the red arrow points to our base of operations on the Owyhee River. This location is at the bottom end of about 48 miles of class II and III rapids - that is, if you happen to be there in the middle of May. If you’re there at the end of August and maybe during a season of drought, traveling by raft is rumored to be problematic.

Sitting in the shade, fishing and drinking beer is nice, but you can’t do it all day. Well, actually, you can do it all day, but we were also cognizant of other points of interest in the canyon.

 

One such site was archeological in nature, but the people who know of such sites tend to be protective of them - and for good reason.

 

(LEFT: pictogram peppered with bullet scars. RIGHT: Same image modified with Jon Harmon’s DStretch to better delineate the original art.)

For instance, this antler man that appears near Maupin, Oregon appears to be the victim of fairly intensive target practice.

 

(TOP: Various carved images - a medallion, a humanoid figure and a sunburst all defaced with spray paint. BOTTOM: The same image modified with Jon Harmon’s DStretch reveals a layer of spray paint that betrays a more modern, angsty origin.)

And these carved petroglyphs (also near Maupin) appear to have been covered in various layers of spray paint.

 

 

(Detail of the humanoid carving that appears beneath the ‘N’ in Tanya)

 

(TOP: Original image of pictograms in Picture Gorge. Note graffiti scratched over the top. BOTTOM: The same image modified with Jon Harmon’s DStretch to better reveal the extent of the original pictograms.)

And these Picture Gorge pictograms have likely been damaged by someone wielding a sharp rock as a scraping implement.

Because of the protective reticence to share indigenous rock-art sites, the search for such places becomes something of a puzzle…or a treasure hunt.

 

 

Fortunately, Rico is pretty good at teasing the details out of arcane archeological papers and texts…and matching such details to pertinent landmarks.

 

 

We end up at a spot that looks like it would have been a pretty nice camp for a slightly bigger, higher river. Perhaps the level area where we parked would have been a nice broad beach.

 

 

Nearby, a mound of earth features large river polished rocks. Some of these large boulders feature expansive flatish surfaces.

 

 

In some cases, it is possible to identify pecked markings - markings formed by the removal of the darker desert patina from the rock’s surface, leaving the lighter substrate to stand out as an intentional design (There may be a pecked oval shape in the center of the rock above).

 

 

Elsewhere, where the desert patina does not provide enough contrast, or the artist intended to make a more emphatic point, the pecked lines have been invested with more time and effort until they have become engraved.

 

I’ve broached the topic of rock art before: https://thenarrativeimage.blogspot.com/2013/11/a-mystery-wrapped-in-enigma-squeezed.html 

…so without going on too much of a tangent, I’ll just say the mystery of it is perpetually tantalizing to me. It’s like finding a message in a bottle…but in a language nobody speaks anymore. How important is the message? Was it sent by someone facing death on a sinking ship? Did seven stranded castaways try to reveal the location of their island? Or is it just advertisements for some shady shaman’s latest herbal remedy or a pubescent youth’s love proclamation for his parallel ‘Tanya’?

 

 

Anthropomorphic figures seem to lend themselves to narratives, but it is hard to get beyond pure speculation. I want to know why someone felt it was worth their time to tap a stick figure into a rock next to the river. I try to imagine what the landscape looked like when the drawing was created. I wonder about the art’s placement on the rock. Is the figure obvious, like a sign? Or is the viewer required to climb to a more precarious viewpoint?

 

Then, while struggling to identify the patterns and the symbols, one must also guard against the tendency to see patterns where they don’t really exist. Am I looking at a meticulously rendered grid pattern, or is this just the way a crystalline basalt weathers over a thousand years?

I find the urge to interpret irresistible.

 

 

While this image is visible from the ground, I find I can get a more encompassing shot of it by climbing on top of the rock it’s on and standing. I don’t see it as an animal or humanoid. But maybe it depicts a road - a path - or maybe a map.

  

 

(LEFT: Rock-art. RIGHT: Google Earth map)

Just for fun, I check out the landscape as depicted in Google Earth and compare it to the rock-art carving.

 

Other rocks perhaps carry tally-marks - the counting of specific events, or visits?

Some of the rocks seem to show evidence that a substantially larger river carved and shaped this landscape.

Here, a large boulder appears to have been carved into a big bowl. One explanation for this structure is that it is a pothole - a circular impression in the rock caused by turbulent swirling water that utilizes pebbles and sediments to abrade the rock. These often appear in flowing river beds and absolutely gigantic examples can be found up in central Washington in the landscapes carved by ice-age floods.

 

In fact, there were countless examples of carved out pot-holes on the Umpqua River.

 

Closer examination reveals that this naturally formed feature has been further refined and decorated. Could this natural indentation have served as a sort of mortar for the processing of grains or medicinal plants?

Given that context, could the markings then be interpreted as a sort of recipe (especially if we assume a much (much) more verdant landscape)?

 

Of course, now my naive speculations have taken on the ridiculous timbre of pseudo-scientists hawking ancient alien theories. “Could these deep gouges in the rock really be made by mere humans using nothing but sticks and stones, or, is it more likely that this is evidence of aliens with advanced technology?”

 

(Shout out to Atomic Arts Theater Company for those 5 years when they did Star Trek in the Park - Scene from Journey to Babel.)

 

The old rock art makes you wonder. Was this area a village? Was it a well known destination? Did it mark a river crossing? Did it mark a boundary between nations? Was it simply an excellent place to fish?

 

We can at least test that last one out by running a few experiments.

 

We head back to base camp as the sun approaches its apex.

 

 

(Photo Credit: Kip)

At this point, we have been aware of a cluster of house-like buildings up river, but we don’t yet know if they are occupied. This time is as good as any to see if we have neighbors.

 We appear to be alone.

 

 

(Photo Credit: Kip)

Back at camp, Rico uses his meat thermometer to give us some idea of how hot it is. Rather ominously, when the breeze blows, the temperature climbs a few degrees more. I begin to appreciate the culture(s) that came up with the idea of siestas.

Soon, we are able to seek out fishing spots next to the river again.

 

(Photo Credit: Kip)

 Joyful patterns repeat (This is Kip’s stringer)

 

We are growing short of ice and gasoline. We begin to contemplate tomorrow’s egress from the canyon.

 

Do you need to catch up with the story? Then follow these links:

 

PART 1: Hawaii, Owyhee...uh, Boglands (Part One)

 

PART 2: Hawaii, Owyhee...uh, Böglands (Part Two) 

 

PART 3: Hawaii, Owyhee...uh, Boglands (Part Three) 

 

PART 5: Hawaii, Owyhee...uh, Boglands (Part Five) 

RED SUN RISES, WILLAMETTE FALLS

They say Native Americans carved petroglyphs at the base of Willamette Falls, an ancient fishing site. I’ve paddled up to the falls a couple of times to find the old markings, but always seem to miss them. The massive horseshoe-shaped falls are over a quarter mile wide and are blended in with concrete and steel industrial structures that make its natural configuration something of a puzzle.

I figured a fresh set of eyes would improve my chances of finding the petroglyphs, so I invited Karen, who had previously expressed an interest in learning to kayak. Karen and I are part of the same extended church family, but more like cousins who almost never visit each other. In the past, she has tried to kill me with a heavy piñata stick and also a spring roll (the spring roll wasn't really her fault). Having Karen along makes even the most pedestrian outing more like a life and death adventure — at least for me.

Smoke, presumably from California’s wildfires, interfered with the dawn and colored the landscape and everything in it with a hellish red tinge.

We launched from behind an R.V. park, leaving our vehicles on the beach.

clicking on the photo should result in the display of a larger image, the same one, just larger

The falls are visible from high atop the bluffs of Oregon City or the I-205 overlook, but to get to the base of the falls requires a boat (or bolt cutters) (or a particular set of skills).

Nope. No petroglyphs here.

I try to imagine what the falls looked like before we bent them to our will.

Noting the artificial structures rimming the top of the falls, I wonder if this is really a waterfall or a dam. 

The height of the falls is listed at 40 feet. I don’t think that includes the concrete structures above the falls. Scampering among the boulders at the base of the falls, it is unsettling to remember what this place looks like when the river is near flood stage.

The concrete structures inundated in the tumult above are the same concrete structures at the top of the falls pictured in the previous picture. This is the view from the Oregon City bluffs during a high-water event in January of 2012.

Karen secures her kayak, spontaneously fitting available equipment to nature’s proffered landscape. 

We look everywhere, but can’t seem to find the elusive petroglyphs.

So is it just me, or, painted on the spider’s abdomen, is there a picture of Osama Bin Laden sitting in a chair, facing the viewer with legs all akimbo?

Big industrial parts, complexly designed, intended to spin, possibly refractory,  and abrasive in nature.

I thought it was just a pretty flower — like maybe a morning glory, but Karen called it bindweed, an invasive monster that chokes out native species. Then I was able to trace its red tendrils spreading through the grass and shrubs like a cargo net.

The back end of a turbine system?

Purple loosestrife, another invasive species, brings my invasive species count up to two. Then I glance at the rusting industrial facilities perched on the river banks and add a third species.

The Oregon City Bridge

At the end of the adventure, sharing a picnic lunch with yellow-jackets, I thought this one’s face looked familiar. 

Zanti misfit courtesy of The Outer Limits.