07.11.09 - 12:01 pm

when nathan asked me to join him in a hike, i was quite excited.

the last hike in memory was with brain, sphinx and tim to the lake filled with the clearest water id ever seen. here, ancient trees dozens of feet tall appeared to briskly touch the waters surface; yet remained well out of reach deep below.

nathan didnt have any ideas to where to go, he just wanted to hike. somewhere. anywhere. brain and sphinx had been commenting on a location theyd been to several times, always while i had been working.

eagle creek.

they spoke of cliffs and canyons, waterfalls and forests. it sounded magnificent. and close. only about a 40 minute drive east on I84. so i packed up my survival backpack. filled it with water, odwalla bars, apricot fruit rollups and a delicious sandwich of sliced turkey breast, french bread, romaine and sliced cheddar. nathan brought gatorade. and his customized footwear that had once effortlessly aided in his climb of machu pichu. i didnt have any shoes i felt appropriate for a hike of this caliber. i had brians crocs, but i figured they would just be annoying. so i slipped on the most reliable footwear i had: flip flops.

the stats:
we arrived: 230pm
we left: 715pm
total time: 285 minutes
total distance: 12 miles
average mile: 23 minutes

the hike started at a leisure stroll. a conversations pace. immediately there were rocks. jagged, dynamite blasted rock trails carved into the cliffs. the trail was narrow and winded along side a clear stream filled with rounded rocks. but the trail did not remain on ground level. it etched its way upward, sometimes several hundred feet upward and provided a limp steel fiber cable as a safety rail. occasionally water dripped from unforseen heights above the cliff walkway, other times you waited for others to pass so that you could proceed, avoiding death by impatience. to look over the edge was incredibly motivating to remain pressed against the cliff walls. there were no guard rails. no handholds or vines to break your fall. if i had lost my footing, i would have had only apathetic rocks to slip through my fingers and the painful release of death to catch me below. nathan certainly didnt appreciate the heights and i could feel myself being infected with his fear as well.
hours would seemingly go by, with no tunnel falls in sight. no signs to mention how much further. just forest, rocks and cliffs. there were a few bridges, one in particular that spanned a deep but extremely narrow, smooth walled canyon.
at one point a young couple passed us and we didnt see them for an hour or so until they were retreating back towards us.
"thats it? thats all you got?" we said, mocking them as they prematurely ended their hike.
"we came for the punch bowl falls, but we realized that the punch bowl falls we thought were at is actually in hood river."
it had taken them at least two miles and an hour to realize they were at a completely different place. bizarre.
we passed an elderly couple who scoffed at my footwear. a very large mexican family with young children some six miles in. i know ashton would have been bored and/or have fallen off a cliff by six miles.

we had picked up the pace as it was approaching five pm. most of our conversation centered around nathans experiences in argentina. great stories. experiences to envy.

finally a noise rumbled ahead. the distinct sound of water falling great distances. then it appeared.

tunnel falls. 175 feet of falling water. the narrow path leaves the soft earthen trail and shifts to dark basalt granite. brilliant green foliage smothered the rockwork. a dark tunnel took us behind the pillar of water and out directly next to the falls. it was very wet and cold here. and loud. a photo op or two was taken before nathan and i sat on the cliffs facing the moving white column and ate. a hundred feet above the pool at the end of the falls.
after fifteen breathtaking minutes and one delicious sandwhich, nathan and i headed back the way we came. we hustled. after six miles of rocks and cliffs and nearly zero physical activity before then, my legs were surprisingly still ready for action. the bottoms of my feet, pummeled by thousands of steps over pointed spear like rocks had become sore. i tripped once and shaved off the tip of my big toe. i enjoyed the dirt and masculinity smearing into the end of my sandal. the six miles back were occasionally confusing and unrecognizable, only cliffs and bridges confirmed we were headed the right way.

natahan guessed at 730 arrival time back at the car, he was 15 minutes wrong.

"if i had seen you showing up in flip flops, i would have just turned around and gone home."
- brain