Reaching the Summit

With a good night’s rest behind us, the truck all packed up, and a 2pm appointment to sign the lease of our Portland home, Tucker and I headed to an oddly named trail: God’s Thumb via The Knoll.

There were some differing opinions on where to start the hike—all the way at the bottom that led through some streets, or closer to The Knoll, a hike that was just a stopping point on the way to God’s Thumb.

Given that it had been some time since we had extreme elevation gain in our walkabouts, I chose to get as far uphill as possible with our trusty steed before we hoofed it ourselves.

With a time commitment ninety miles away, I couldn’t lollygag through this hike, and I wanted time to enjoy the sights that took my breath away, not stop every five feet to catch my breath from the physical exertion of the climb itself.

It was as described: a straight up climb. Even my truck rested on an incline. As I came to the turn the Knoll, I relished the anticipation as we walked along the mostly flat narrow trail through the meadow.

The trail opened up to a wide expanse looking southward along the Oregon coast. The word “Knoll” didn’t do it justice.

We stayed and took it all in: the fog across the mountains, the clouds above the sea, the secret mountain lake beyond the trees.

And once we felt we had had our fill, we journeyed back into the forest to get to God’s Thumb.

Most was forest, up and down, not a consistent climb, but having already done a pretty steep hike, I worried a little every time we went downhill, wondering if I’d be able to make it back up at the end.

Once up and out of the treeline, we came to a group of hikers sitting on the grassy area overlooking the Thumb. I saw the quick descent downward which would then go up again like a rollercoaster to get to the top of the Thumb. I wasn’t sure I needed to do it, and with an appointment only a few hours away, I knew I wouldn’t be able to just run back up the hill.
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Just watching one person climb up made me hesitant--

—and seeing how tiny people looked from where I stood. The app was saying it was less than half a mile away, which on flat ground is like five minutes, and it looked like it was right there. But...

I turned to the group: “Have you guys gone out there?”

“No.”

“Nope.”

"Not this time.”

Everyone shook their heads.

“Just trying to determine if it’s worth it,” I said. I didn’t mention my fear of heights and being on a precarious pile of sand and rocks on the edge of the ocean might not be the best idea for me.

One member of the group shared a sage perspective. “I came to see God’s Thumb and I can see it from here. If I’m on it, I can’t see it.”

Valid point. Here it is. We had accomplished our goal.

I sat on the ground overlooking the Thumb and watched a few people disappear out of sight as they journeyed further. One person stopped and asked me if I knew if there was way to get to another cliff north of where we stood. Cross-referencing the actual landscape with my digital map, it certainly seemed there was, but I couldn't advise how to get there from here.

He asked if I had done the climb to the top of the Thumb. I answered that I wouldn’t be doing it; I was happy to enjoy the views from right here without any fear of slipping off the precipice into the rocky ocean below.

We stayed a little longer to take in the views and to give the hiking group a lead. For me, hiking is a solitary, spiritual experience (solitary with Tucker; he’s so much a part of me—or me a part of him—that I consider us singular). However, I do appreciate that for others it is a social occasion. I have had a few social hikes myself. But overall, I appreciate Nature without additional humans around.

We ventured down the mountain and took one more look from the Knoll before meeting back up with our trusty steed and racing back to the city. Lease signed on time and my heart at peace, we drove to our temporary lodging in a new neighborhood for us to explore: Woodstock.

Tuck makes himself at home wherever we go. Even if in this basement apartment that didn’t even have room for his crate.

I try to emulate his sense of ease in our travels. Perhaps because he’s not in charge of locating lodging, he can be a little more relaxed about it.
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For the next few days, between work and sleep we ventured around this neighborhood. One afternoon we even took the trails of higher learning. Reed College, just across the street, was more of a park than a campus. Having the city of Boston has my college campus, this was like a whole other planet.

In the first nine days in Oregon, we slept in three different beds, explored two different neighborhoods of Portland and a seaside town, worked seven of those days from various desks and couches at these temporary lodgings, and then finally got to settle into our longterm housing. Sometimes it takes a little while to find your place in life (and in Oregon), but that’s okay. Enjoy every twist and turn of the journey, knowing that each step brings you closer. And as long you don’t settle for what doesn’t seem right, you’ll eventually come upon exactly what you've been searching for: Home.