The Long Hike... with fragile, old feet.

The hike to the triple falls of Middle Oneonta Falls was deceptively manageable... at first.
This was the first section coming from the parking lot.

The guys were ahead of us. The fun has just begun and the path looked like easy going.
I'm not sure what I was thinking. I guess I wasn't. I could hear the highway noise and a train went by. It all seemed quite doable.
At the first switch back, the trail got considerably steeper. In retrospect, I wonder why I didn't take more photos as I climbed the trail. The setting was so beautiful.

We came to many small waterfall areas that were within hand rinsing reach and they gave me a reason to stop and catch my breath. At one point our fearless leader, Peter, who was ahead of us, called out, "Look, it's the falls." I knew we had not gone more that a quarter of a mile, so I didn't understand what he meant. The triple falls were one mile from the parking lot and unless this was a magical forest, we were not there yet. Peter was laughing when I reached the "waterfall". It was a tiny "fall" of water coming down the hillside and running over the rocky path. It wasn't our destination, but this was the comic relief we all needed.
We passed some folks that looks thankful for the return trip down hill. We exchanged hello's and continued on. As the highway noise disappeared the sounds of the forest became a marvelous distraction from the distress of my tired feet and legs. The beauty of this place was a factor in the budding motivation that I needed to continue on.
This was an enchantingly beautiful place. These ferns seemed to reach out to us as we walked by.

Somewhere beyond the halfway point I decided that "one foot in front of the other" was more like a mind game that I was going to have to play with myself. One of the men in the group, who decided to join me, was in a similar state. His name was Gary. He seemed to have a more Zen approach to what was fast becoming an ordeal. He was my age, had bad foot problems and yet, he kept talking to me and encouraging me to move ahead. We drank lots of water, stopped periodically to give our feet a rest, and then continued on up the gorge toward the falls. Even the conversation became a tool of incentive and distracted us from the rigors of the climb.

We saw some beautiful flowers.

And, at one point, we hear a water fall... but it was the lower of the three falls in the gorge and not the one that marked our destination. 

The path became rockier, steeper and, once in a while, it would level off. I felt like these level areas were little gifts that made me appreciate this immense effort I was making. At one point some young college age kids came down, laughing and running, nodding to us as they flew by. I felt very old at this point. 

Then, when I didn't think I could take one more step, I heard Peter ( leader of the pack). He said "We're here."

I crawled over some rocks, to the edge of a huge cliff and there before us was the Middle Oneonta Falls.

It was breathtaking. I was dizzy and had to sit down. My legs were doing some kind of muscle dance and cramping up. I stretched them out, drank more water, felt a little better, then set up my tripod. 

These young kids came down past us. They laughed and goofed off, ate some lunch, dangled over the edge and acted silly about being so close to a major drop off the edge of the world.

This was way steeper than it looks in the pictures.  You can see how the two older and wiser guys (on the left) are leaning away from the drop off while setting up a tripod... and how the kids are so matter of fact and relaxed.

Youngsters have no fear. 

Take a look at this.

Yep! Two girls... on the very top of the waterfall. 

Finally, we had the place to ourselves. We set up the tripods, ate a Fiber One bar and took some photos of this amazing place. I was slowly getting my mojo back.

The flora and fauna of this area is so lush and beautiful. 

New growth on the tips of the branches make the forest shine with promise. You can see, in an area where man only comes to visit, that the less man impacts an area the more beautiful it is. When you limit man's ability to affect nature, you let it become what it was intended for. There's balance... and that's stewardship. We need these places.
As we sat there listening to Peter talking about about camera skills, ISO, focal points and framing, I realized how important this workshop was to me.

 These three days were not only going to teach me a skill, they were also going to teach me something about myself. Pushing my limits physically is not something that I have done for a long time. I almost drowned last summer, at Lake Tahoe, thinking I could still swim like I did in my 30's. The water was scary for me and getting back to shore a struggle. I remember the awful feeling of fatigue while I was swimming to shore. I made it back, but I promised myself that I would never go that far again.
Learning my limits as an older woman. Testing what I can and cannot do. These are the moments that teach me more that any classroom could ever instruct. But, the pride of doing something like this, knowing that I can hike a mile up hill without having a heart attack or falling off the edge of a cliff, is HUGE.
That this 68 year old was still capable of this kind of physical accomplishment made her day... that is until she turned around and looked at the road back.

In her euphoria, she forgot that she must retrace her steps.

We walked another trail around to the bridge crossing the river and looked at the falls from the top.

Yes, that's another crazy youngster, or two, standing on the edge of doom.

What are they thinking ? Is this about challenging yourself too... only the "twenty something" version? If they were my boys, I would have had a heart attack right then and there. I could just see one of them slipping on some mossy rocks and going over the edge. I wanted to yell something to them. But, I could just hear what they might say to each other...
"What's that crazy lady saying? Get off the rocks? Is she nuts?"
They finally left and I relaxed... and  they didn't die.

This is looking up river from the bridge.

See that very green rock?

I believe it was radioactive.
I have never seen moss so green.  It was ELECTRIC GREEN. I have done nothing to augment the color. This was just what we saw. I'm sure it was some new organism that will spread and wreak havoc on the world. But for now, it's just an amazing anomaly in the middle of the Oneonta river.

We started back back down the trail. It was going to be a piece of cake. Right? It's all downhill.
How very wrong we were.
For our thirty something mother of six, with bad knees, it was very painful and she stopped frequently, to ease the pain. For myself and Gary, it was again, the feet. We both had good hiking shoes on, but having neuropthy (he did) and neuromas (I did) on already sore and tired feet it was like walking on fire. The rocks were sharp and my legs were starting to jump with muscle spasms again.
Good grief! This was suppose to be the easy part.
Peter, our wonderful guide and teacher, took my camera and my tripod. I told him I was all right but he insisted. He said that this is what "Sherpas" do. Bless his heart. I guess he was worried about me. I must have looked worse that I thought. I was trying to put up a good front, but my legs were vibrating and he kept telling me to drink more water. I actually felt so bad that I wasn't even embarrassed. I just wanted the hike to end.
One foot in front of the other... one more switch back... where are the others... don't fall... keep going.
Where is my new friend with the bad feet? Did he stop somewhere or did he put himself in overdrive and speed down the path.  He was nowhere to be seen.
Down, down, down... we moved toward the familiar noise of the highway and I was seeing light at the end of the trail.
Down, down, down... finally I heard someone say... "This is the last turn." Peter was right behind me.
It was. There ahead of me was the parking lot of my dreams. We had reached the promised land.
I was afraid to stop... or sit... or try to get into the car. I walked around for a while and realized that Gary was still not with us. A while later he came down the trail. He said he had gone ahead of us and made a wrong turn. He had gone to another waterfall before he realized he was in the wrong place but he found his way back and was all right. His wife, who waited for us in the parking lot reading a good book, (smart lady)  was relieved. We all were.
We ate ice cream at the Multnomah Falls concession and continued on to Horsetail Falls. This was right on the highway and there was no hiking involved. I was bushed. I mean totally wiped.
We stayed there for about 30 to 40 minutes. I don't remember much.
Just this...

and this...

and a bumper falling off of Amy's car because she backed up and pulled away from a stone parking wall. We were amazed at how it snapped back on.

 It's all kind of vague.
I was driven back to my home away from home in Troutdale. "D" was there, waiting. She was on the phone with her hubby, so I  removed my shoes, carefully, making sure that my feet didn't come off with my socks. I started some bath water and sat on the edge of the tub with my feet under the running water.
OH, I can't tell you how good this felt. I was there for quite a while. I didn't trust myself to take a bath yet. I might have gone to sleep and drowned. That would have been a less that auspicious end to a rather amazing day.
I dried my feet and fell onto my bed, head first. I heard "D" laugh.
Tomorrow we would meet at Starvation Creek Falls. I wondered what connotation that name might have.
Another day to learn something about myself. Another day to learn... something... about...

***************
postscript: I found a video of two young men hiking the same trail we did. The call themselves the Trail Dudes. If you have a few minutes and you're thinking about doing this. Please watch the video. Please remember that these "dudes" are probably about 20 years old.
These photos, for those of you who care to know, were taken with a Nikon D5100 and a Tamron SP AF 10-24mm wide angle lens for Nikon cameras. The  ISO was usually at 400, F/20. Exposure times varied.
I shot RAW and JPEG. and aperture setting or auto. I didn't trust my manual skills enough yet.
This was a three day Waterfalls of the Columbia River Workshop offered by Peter West Carey in Portland.

A Camper called Epiphany.

Again I have to preface this post with the fact that my dear friend "D", who would have been there for me, did not join us on the first day of the workshop. Not that she could have magically gotten me from point A to point B on our hike to Middle Oneonta Falls, but just having her there would have, somehow, given me more of a "Put on your big girl pants and don't whine." attitude. Considering that she was dealing with an RV supply store in Gresham, I figured I had better just continue on, as planned and stop sniveling.
Her simple plan was to buy a turn crank that we lost (never to be found again) in downtown Portland. We stopped at a wonderful photography store and decided to put our other cameras and equipment under the camper's mattress for safe keeping.We raised the camper, put the cameras under the bedding, lowered the camper and closed the door. When we got back to the motel we went to retrieve the cameras and realized that the crank was missing. We retraced our steps but failed to find the crank. We tore the camper apart but nothing turned up. This turned into a day and a half ordeal that ended in the selling of the camper to the dealer in Gresham.
She and I removed the camper from the truck (a Herculean feat in itself) that night. We worked on detaching it until almost midnight. We were able to lift the top up by hand and retrieve some camera equipment that we needed for the next day, but we couldn't get it back down without the crank. We couldn't drive the truck to the RV place with the top up, so we had to remove the camper completely.
She dropped me off at the meeting place the next morning and I went on with the workshop group and she drove to Gresham to pick up a new crank.We had a plan. She would met up with us in a few hours.
On the way to Gresham, she lost one of the connector plates (one of four) that holds the turnbuckle and chains keeping the camper on the truck. It was a busy freeway... cars swerved to avoid the piece of metal... and that is when my friend decided that life was too short for this kind of stress and anxiety. She had an epiphany. She got to the RV place and told the owner that she wanted to sell the camper and if he wanted it, it was his for a price. He would have to come to the Troutdale Comfort Inn and pick it up. He said he would buy it, sight unseen.
So she went back to the hotel until he arrived and emptied the camper. He came and picked it up.  Then she took some generic Ibuprofen and slept for a few hours. Traveling, by herself, from Montana had taken its toll too. She needed to rest.
When I called the Prospector, his only comment after " Are you two OK?" and "You took the camper off
the truck? By yourselves?" was, "Woman!... camping!" Actually, I believe this was the first comment. After that, he wanted all the details.
"D"s husband was more sympathetic and understanding. He was amazed that we removed the camper too, but he gave "D" the moral support that she really needed. She wasn't able to talk to him at the RV place. He was not home so she made the decision on her own. Phones don't always connect you to a river somewhere in Montana.  Sometimes you have to make the final decision all by yourself. It's one of those things that you don't often do without your partner's input.
 "Oh, by the way, you know that camper I left home with? Well, I sold it."
 No guts, no glory.  "D" knew that one more day with that camper was one more day that something else could go wrong and she wasn't willing to take the chance. I say... good for her.
So, like I said, this trip taught us a lot about ourselves and our limits as older women. We like to think that we can do the things that we were capable of in our youth, but the reality is we are physically and emotionally different now. I learned that my friend that I grew up with and always looked up to, is a vulnerable, older woman now. She still makes quick decisions and looks for adventures, but she understands that sometimes you have to lighten your load, take a different road and find that place where you feel in control again. 
We continued on, the next day, with a lighter frame of mind and all our worldly goods tied down with tarps and duck tape. We looked kind of like the Joad family in the Grapes of Wrath, only our truck was much nicer. We had bottled water, toilet paper and raisin bread from Costco... and now we could see behind the truck when backing up. This was a great advantage on the rest of the trip.
 Everything that was in the camper had to come with us. We did have a back seat in the cab that was huge and where we put all of our valuables. This was a four door, heavy duty Toyota Tundra that never failed us. The cost of the trip went up a bit because we stayed in hotels instead of RV parks and campsites. but we decided that we liked the luxury of a bath and a warm room to crash in every night... especially after the waterfall hikes... especially on the Oregon coast. We adapted nicely.
I had pictures of the hike to Oneonta Falls but I will save them for another post. The story needs to be told... another day. It's about MY epiphany and the reality of ones limitations as we age.
"D" and I are both home, safe and sound. Life moves on and we (as you will see in the next few posts) had a wonderful time... after the camper incident.

Happy Father's Day to all of you who made the choice to be fathers and to those who worked hard at it.
Happy Father's Day to our dear son who loves and takes care of our grandchildren.
Happy Father's Day to my old Prospector. You raised our boys well. They stand on their own feet and have become good human beings. Love you.

Learning about myself and my camera

I flew to Portland on Thursday morning and my friend, "D" was there to pick me up. She drove her truck and camper from Montana. We had made reservations for the first night in Troutdale, so as to be ready for the first day of the photography workshop. It was so good to see my friend.
 At some point I will tell you why we stayed three nights in the Troutdale Comfort Inn instead of sleeping in her camper... but it's a long story and will have to wait for a day when I can relate the story without laughing , crying and otherwise reliving the sad tale of the collapsible camper and how we ended up without one.

 This is what we came to see and photograph.

"This is the forest primeval."

Ahead of me, in the darkness of the forest, are the other people that came together from different places and other states to join in the passion that we call photography. There ended up being four of us in this group that joined Peter West Carey for a Waterfall Workshop on the Columbia River.
At about 9:00 a.m. after an orientation and introductions, we drove to the first trail head along the highway. It was cool, almost cold, but not raining. The sun was already filtering into the dark, dense forest.

A member of our group was already taking pictures as she walked from one lovely place to the next.
We walked one third of a mile to our first waterfall. Its name is Bridal Veil Falls.
First a sun lit bridge...

 Then we saw a river, noisy and beautiful, coming from the sound of water falling somewhere above us.

 We climbed to a small observation deck and there, tucked into the mountain was Bridal Veil Falls.

 

 The commotion of falling water commanded your attention. I had my first lesson on the manual settings of my camera and learned to adjust the settings for "sharp" water or "ribbon" water. It's about fast or slow shutter speed and it's almost magically how you can change the look of the water by this change of settings.
The KEY to a good photo is a good tripod and getting your camera securely on the tripod was a learning curve in itself... for me anyway. The tripod is absolutely necessary for sharp, clear photos.

 The setting was so lovely.

This woman was by herself and seemed very knowledgeable about photography. I talked to her for a while and picked up a few pointer. I thought the others had gone back to the cars and I started back, up to the parking lot, thinking I was late. Peter caught up with me. They were taking photos below the bridge and I hadn't seen them.
We all finally headed back to the cars and continued to the next waterfall. I took this shot of a striking flower on my way back up the trail.

I think this is Daucus carota (common names include wild carrot, (UK) bird's nest, bishop's lace, and Queen Anne's lace (North America), but it might also be water hemlock which is deadly poisonous, or cow parsnip. I'm not sure because I didn't look at the stems which should have fine hair on them if they are Queen Anne's lace.  I'm fairly sure that this was Baucus Carota. Whichever it is , it's a beautiful flower in the midst of a mostly green forest.
We hiked back up  to the parking lot and drove to the next waterfall. This one was the very famous Multnomah Falls, what Peter calls the "grandaddy" of the Oregon waterfalls. The upper fall is 542 ft. and the lower fall is 69 ft... the tallest in Oregon.
The place was packed but there was a bathroom (very important) and FOOD, COFFEE, ICE CREAM etc. and this absolutely amazing waterfall.
That is the Benson footbridge between the upper and lower falls.

There were a lot of people walking across it and taking pictures.

This makes it difficult to set up a tripod or take a photo without getting someone's head in the picture. So we did the best we could.
This is the lower falls below the footbridge.

We ate lunch at the Multnomah Falls and then drove to the trail head of the Middle Oneonta Falls. This was to be a test of my endurance and ability as a 68 year old. Thank god I did some walking and hiking at home because this hike taught me, once again, the mind/body connection that you need to overcome adversity.
Tomorrow... The hike to Oneonta Falls.

Lewis and Clark expedition, April 9, 1806.  Captain Lewis wrote...
"... on our way to this village we passed several beautifull cascades which fell from a great hight over the stupendious rocks which cloles the river on both sides nearly, except a small bottom on the South side in which our hunters were encamped. the most remarkable of these casscades falls about 300 feet perpendicularly over a solid rock into a narrow bottom of the river on the south side. it is a large creek, situated about 5 miles above our encampment of the last evening. several small streams fall from a much greater hight, and in their decent become a perfect mist which collecting on the rocks below again become visible and decend a second time in the same manner before they reach the base of the rocks. ..." [Lewis, April 9, 1806]
(They had just found the Multnomah Falls. )

Flight to Adventure

"All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go..." (yes, I'm heading north for an adventure.)

'cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane
Don't know when I'll be back again..."
( Written by John Denver, 1966; sung by Peter, Paul and Mary.)

Got my maps, flashlights, bug spray and rain gear (just in case). I think we hit the right weekend because it's going to break records here in Northern California with 100 plus weather. Hopefully, up north, it's not going to rain and the weather will be pleasant. Either way, we will be prepared.
I will take my trusty, black New Balance hikers that I wore in Germany... broken in and comfortable.

... and these really comfy hiking sandals, that I found in Reno last month, for walking. Got to take care of my feet, 'cause if they aren't happy, the rest of me will be miserable.

 And I bought some new camera equipment. This is getting to be an expensive hobby. Fair warning to anyone who wants to "just buy a camera..." It doesn't stop there.

I'm leaving the hollyhocks and the bumble bees...

The dried clover that I've been so desperately trying to photograph with macro precision.

And the lizard who will be glad to see me go because I keep sprinkling him with the hose every morning. (I really think he likes it or he'd leave.)

I'm saying goodbye to the corgi boys and the Prospector...

"What... Where are you going now?"

and I will be flying to Portland to met my friend "D", who is driving from Montana. We are going to a photography workshop this weekend on the Columbia River. I think we will learn a lot and it will be fun. Then we will drive down the Oregon coast and "D" will bring me home.
I leave Thursday morning.


"The photograph itself doesn't interest me.  I want only to capture a minute part of reality." ~Henri Cartier Bresson

Sister Visit and a little Creativity

Carl and Cutter were so happy. Their "auntie" was here all week and they love her.

Carl had to share "his spot" on the sofa...

And he would look at me, as if to say, "I love that she visits but it's hard to share my spot."

 He wouldn't budge from his side of the sofa

until Sis offered him a Cheetos and then everything  was OK.

We had a wonderful week. We went into Sutter Creek and Amador City, spending time in our favorite stores, talking to some friends and finding some "goodies" that we couldn't live without.

But, mostly, we made art. 

Remember the bottle art that we made the last time she was here?   This was a little Watkin's vanilla bottle that I created a few months ago.

Last week we went to bigger bottles and got crazy.

This was mine. It's not finished, but I love the "steam punk" look to it.

This is an old soda bottle. I Mod Podged some old dictionary pages onto it, let it dry and then sanded it off. The ridges of the bottle really stand out. Then I antiqued the paper with some walnut ink, using my finger and rubbing it in.

The metal piece over the top is an old biscuit cutter I found in an antique store.

The legs are the bottom half of a plastic skeleton and the wings are a cheap metal butterfly.
The "face" is a rusty pipe connector with a bit of screen covering the end.

There is a woman's face inside, behind the screen. (Just some clip art I found.)

The rest is for your imagination. Symbolism is a big part of this kind of art. It's unique to the artist and has lots of ambiguity.

Sis has taken classes from an artist that really takes this art form to a different level. His name is Micheal deMeng and I will be taking one of his classes in September at the Art Is You retreat in Petaluma, CA. His work is very dark and filled with ambiguous interpretation.
Sis is braver than I and she is not afraid to stretch the boundaries of her imagination.
This bottle was transformed with paper, a beautiful, old drawer handle, a plastic doll face and trinkets from my sister's collection of ephemera.

She found some gold cloth wings in my junk drawer collection and covered them with scraps of cool black and white paper. She also backed the bottle with the same paper so it could be seen from the front, through the bottle.

 The bottom piece was a gear and a faucet handle with a small piece of faceted glass over the top and some burlap type material connecting all of it.

 The face has a bee over the mouth. (Talk about symbolism.) Then she painted and antiqued all of it.

 I love the look of this bottle. It's elegant yet shabby... or, as a friend of mine would say, "Gentile poverty"... and a lot of imagination.

We had so much fun with this. Just take an old bottle (it doesn't have to be a good antique) and just start adding stuff to it. Use glue, Mod Podge, glue guns. epoxy and spit. Anything will do... but most of all use your imagination.
We spent one whole day doing this. Cheap fun and very creative.


The Corgi boys miss her.  So do I.

Carl is still wondering where she went.

"She will be back boy, don't worry."