This post was recovered from an old blog that I had while in college. I’ve only updated misspellings or dead links, but left any cringe worthy things or immature thoughts. I’ve decided to leave them as a snapshot of who I was and to see how far I’ve come. Any photos have been freshly edited and so are not the same as what was originally posted. Over the years I had several blogs, most lost to time, and I wanted to recover some lost memories and reflect on my life.

ust outside of a small dilapidated town in Oregon there is a waterfall not often spoken of. The gravel road leading to the trail head is only three miles long, but strewn with enough head sized rocks that you must crawl at a pace slower than walking. Is this the reason the waterfall stays well out of the spotlight? Or could it be the short, under-a-mile trail that literally slides down the side of the ravine to the creek bed? No that’s not it either. Then it must be the ATV use area just miles from the creek which surly pollutes the sweet sounds of nature with loud metallic whines and gunshot style backfires. Nope. Then what the heck is it?

ABIQUA FALLS 2010-02-15

Abiqua falls is 101 feet of thundering water made even more powerful by the amphitheater of red tinged columnar basalt that surrounds the viewer. That 101 feet was also the world record for the highest waterfall run by a kayaker in 2002. Now Abiqua is just a little waterfall visited often only by local kids and the rogue hiker from Portland. It’s relative loneliness makes it all the more attractive in the often crowded trails and forest of the pacific northwest.

On a rare sunny afternoon in February I saw the photos online of Abiqua and instantly thought I could make it there before sunset. I gathered up some water, some snacks, and my camera gear tossed it in the back of my small car and motored off to find another slice of beautiful Oregon. After an hours drive I came to the yellow gate and parked my car. The air was fresh despite the nearby OHV area and the sun was running frantically for the horizon and so I set off. Another 30 minutes down a muddy slip and slide and along the bank of an almost cliche beautiful Oregon stream and I could see the walls of basalt. I could hear the rumble of the falls, No I could FEEL the rumble of the falls. I scampered of the last set of rocks and rounded the corner into the amphitheater.

No set of words, let alone my own, could serve the scene justice. The high hundred foot walls of basalt with lichen, moss, and even ferns growing in their own little micro climates. The oval shaped, perfectly sanded stones that ran out into the middle of the amphitheater serving as the ultimate spot to view the falls from. The deep blue green pool of cold water, surly most of it from the Oregon rain that could only be so pure. And of course, Abiqua Falls. All 101 feet tumbling over the edge of the basalt cliffs, spilling into that deep pool, polishing those perfect stones, and feeding the ferns the water they need to survive via mist floating through the air seeming more like microscopic fairies than water droplets.

ABIQUA CREEK 2010-02-15

ABIQUA CREEK 2010-02-15

The best part was that I had it all to myself, not a single person, not even a noise other than the falls. Another piece of my Oregon puzzle had been found. This slice tasting the best of all, yet it was no better than any other place in Oregon. I’m finding more and more that it’s how everything fits together, rather than the individual pieces that fill my heart will love for Oregon.