One Beaut of a Butte

Now for something completely different: No falls, very little forest, and a lot of open space. With Tucker’s disenchantment with the falls, I opted for an entirely different trail. I felt we had experienced a lot of the coast lately, so I opted to go inland. Powell Butte was touted as an excellent hike with wide open vistas and a bit of a forest trail. And of course, it was wildly popular. This meant I had to contend with humans-my least favorite element of any hike.

And contend with them I did before I even started. The parking lot is up a winding drive, and consists of three tiers of lots. All of them were full. And due to the roundabout-direction of traffic, you could be on the top tier while someone on the bottom tier exits, and not make it there before the next person up the hill snags the spot.

I didn’t want to give up, nor did I want the mile long uphill climb by parking at the bottom (which I saw a few enterprising folks doing). Instead I decided to exercise patience, and fifteen minutes later, someone left at the right time and I got their spot.
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At this point it was truly late in the day, and taking the forest route would have added some time to the hike, cutting it close to my deadline of sunset. In order to enjoy the hike and not be scrambling at the final moments like the hike was a game show, as I had done at Washington Park, I simply chose a different route—on purpose.

The beginning of the trail was wide open meadow, and despite it being October, Tucker was already panting a little. This was clearly not a mid-summer hike. At the Y in the road to go straight or head right to go down into the woods, we went straight. It was still covered by tree canopy, but it was more of a grove than a canopy. After leaving the grove, we were in wide open meadow again, as most buttes are. Being late in the day, it wasn’t terribly hot.

As we reached the center point, we came upon the main event: Mt Hood.

There truly is something about her. Every day on the way the work, as I cross the Ross Island Bridge, it is a surprise whether or not she shows. When she does, it is almost shocking: her energy and presence is so intense. Other times it’s as if she was never there, and clouds hover in the space where she should be. Sometimes it's a human versus technology battle that causes her disappearing act.

Today she stood in all her glory, and I tried to capture that intensity with a camera, but it just did no good. No matter how much I zoomed in, or how much I zoomed out, that intensity just didn’t come through in the digital print. How can I express how majestic she is? Mt Hood is forty miles from where I stood, and yet seemed to be right here on the hill with us while also being a mirage.

Legend has it that Mt Hood is Wy’east, who was in love with Loowit, the keeper of fire on the Bridge of the Gods. When he and his brother Klickitat (aka Phato) fought over Loowitlatkla, their father turned all three into mountains: Phato bowed his head as Mt Adams, Wy’east stood tall and confident as Mt Hood, and Loowitlatkla stood between them as Mt St. Helen.

Yet I have to say, the energy I feel from Mt Hood is not masculine at all. It is a powerful feminine through and through. Perhaps when St Helens erupted, she made her choice and joined Wy’east. Or perhaps Wy’East has always been the dominant feminine. Or maybe I'm just used to using a feminine pronoun with Nature's greatest works.

I eventually gave up trying to capture in print the elusive energy of Mt Hood, and we meandered across the butte to a spot to see the source of Wy’east’s love: Loowitlatkla in the form of Mt St Helens.

It’s bizarre to think that I was born before she erupted. We always think of volcanic eruptions has ancient history, and while I am on the mature side, I am certainly not yet ancient. The mountain was once 1000 feet above its current height. Lootwitlakla was true to her name "Lady of the Fire" and blew ashes and molten lava in such an explosive manner, her entire top crumbled down. That's what you get for locking up a lady in love.

Tucker and I took one more look at the separated lovers across the butte and then headed back down to the parking lot. Even from there, Mt Hood sparkled in the sunlight in all her majesty.

The energy of the mountain is palpable. There’s something about this place, this town, this stretch of land and sky that I feel is powerful and sacred. Its character and personality is authentic. And I feel connected to it. Perhaps we all do. I can’t put into words why I feel the way I do. There’s just something about that mountain…

As Tucker and I were heading back to the truck, I looked down rather up to the mountain and found that a favorite author of mine tried to put it into words for me:

More accurately, one touch of nature makes us remember that the whole world is kin. For we are all connected, from the ground to the sky and from seas to the mountains, we are one.