You really can touch history in the Columbia River Gorge! I’ll show you how as I take you onto a gem of a hiking and biking trail along the Historic Columbia River Scenic Highway.

The Columbia River Gorge offers moments of magical beauty when the sun, and clouds dance their shadows across the cliffs to create lasting memories of the times each of us spend there.

“Enough memories to last a lifetime,” I like to say. Especially along the Columbia River Scenic Highway – stretching eighty miles from Troutdale to The Dalles as an unmatched scenic byway that came to life nearly one hundred years ago.

Back then, it was called “America’s Greatest Highway” and it was the vision of many people at the turn of the century, but the chief backer and promoter was Sam Hill, who hired engineer Sam Lancaster. Lancaster had traveled extensively throughout Europe and studied its roadways.

Oregon’s version of a scenic highway was built in 1916 and, by making the most of the Gorge’s size and splendor; it rivaled anything built in Europe. The highway was designed for travel that followed the contours of the shifting landscape, with plenty of viewpoints and turnouts. It was enhanced with arched bridges, stone railings, and tunnels.

This magnificent achievement, the first paved road in Oregon, allowed Oregonians easier access between the eastern and western sides of their state. It also allowed them to visit many of the Gorge falls. But over the decades much of it was bypassed for progress – and speed – called the Interstate Highway. It was a faster way to move people and commerce from this place to that and it left the historic highway in the dust.

Still, if you have the right guides who know where to look, you can touch history in the nooks crannies of the gorge where signs of the old highway still exist.

Nearly twenty years ago the state launched an ambitious program to do just that as sections of the old highway we’re restored just for hikers and bicyclists along a new Historic Columbia River Highway State Trail.

So far, eleven miles have been completed and include places like the Oneonta Tunnel. Other completed stretches include six miles between Eagle Creek and Cascade Locks, the Mosier Twin Tunnels and just last summer, the newest section, Viento State Park to Starvation Creek, opened to the public.

A gentle five percent grade makes the biking and hiking easy, plus there’s one particular feature that waits for your closer inspection: an original, four-foot tall mile marker with the number “58” carved into the concrete face. There are more sections planned down the road too. In fact, the state has embarked on plans to convert Twelve Miles By 2016, so places like the spectacular Ruthton Point will be open for your enjoyment.

Editor’s Note: Grant’s Getaways is a production of Travel Oregon brought to you in association with Oregon State Parks, Oregon Dept. of Fish & Wildlife and Oregon State Marine Board. Episodes air Fridays and Saturdays on KGW Newschannel 8 and Saturdays on Northwest Cable News Network.

The time is right to travel down treasured trails in Oregon State Parks to discover the romance of waterfalls. While the Columbia River Gorge has long impressed us with its gigantic size, I cherish its nooks and crannies even more – especially where the water flows and famous falls whirl and shimmer and ripple and where you can leave all distractions behind.

At 125 feet, Shepperd’s Dell is small in size as Gorge falls go. It rolls out of Young’s Creek to become a foamy moment that resembles a bowtie turned on its side. The water boils and roils, then slips and slides down forty feet of smooth rock face before it twists and shoots up high to celebrate its freedom and falls into a rocky cradle. George Shepperd opened Shepperd’s Dell to the public in 1915 as a tribute to his wife. What a romantic!

One mile east of Shepperd’s Dell is Bridal Veil Falls State Park, a day-use site for a picnic or a stroll down a half-mile trail to a stairway and viewing platform. The park’s namesake drops in two tiers and it is best enjoyed with someone special. You’ll see why when you stand on the viewing platform and gaze up at the 160-foot waterfall plunging twice in a wide, steep slide.

If time is of the essence and you’re ready to head back toward Portland, travel west on the scenic highway past Shepperd’s Dell Falls a mile and a half to Latourell Falls, where an incredible show speaks for itself. Latourell Falls hisses and bellows and shouts for attention as it falls 249 feet. It’s the second-highest falls in the Gorge and seems to take on a life of its own you can’t help but appreciate. The falls was named for Joseph Latourell, an early settler of the area, and donated to the state of Oregon in 1929 by Guy W. Talbot. A paved trail allows you to hike to the base of this falls and continues across a bridge to a picnic area.

Ninety miles to the west, photographer Don Best likes to say he hasn’t met a waterfall he doesn’t love: “to shoot with a camera.”Best is a lifelong local in Tillamook County – his grandfather arrived by horse and wagon and his father told tales of old growth timber, giant elk and waterfalls galore.

So, Best looks up at Munson Falls, (the tallest waterfall in the Oregon Coast Range), with a nostalgic nod to a somewhat romanticized past and offered us a tip or two that might help you capture the best that falling water offers. Best says there are many waterfalls in the Tillamook State Forest that go unvisited and are under appreciated.
You’ve many spectacular waterfalls to choose from when you visit the 9,000-acre state parkland called Silver Falls State Park. It offers a gorgeous Trail of Ten Falls plus the rustic South Falls Lodge that stands large from rock and timber construction.

Campers can let the romance last longer inside rental cabins that offer many of the comforts of home. (Reservations are advised.) Remember – rain gear and hiking boots will make your hiking adventures more comfortable in winter.

Editor’s Note: Grant’s Getaways is a production of Travel Oregon brought to you in association with Oregon State Parks, Oregon Dept. of Fish & Wildlife and Oregon State Marine Board. Episodes air Fridays and Saturdays on KGW Newschannel 8 and Saturdays on Northwest Cable News Network.

One of the great side benefits of my job is that I get to meet a lot of great people. At a recent speaking engagement at the West Linn Library, I struck up a conversation with my onsite contact, and it turned out that we shared a love of hiking, and were soon swapping hiking stories and favorite trails. Wouldn’t you know it, a few months later Cheryl and her boyfriend, Greg joined me and Brad on a spectacular outing to the Pinnacles at Herman Creek out in the Columbia River Gorge (fondly referred to as the “Gorge” locally).

Despite a rather dire weather report of predicted freezing rain in the Gorge, we kept our plans a ‘go’ and piled four people and two dogs into my trusty Subaru wagon and set off regardless of rain, snow or ice.

Parking at the Herman Creek parking lot (the actual trail head was farther back in but the campground is closed in the winter, so we parked along the historic Columbia River Highway), we wound our way up into the campground and started off in a different direction that I had traveled. Cheryl assured us that we were going to really see some amazing sights, so we were spurred on.

Coming around one corner, we found the quietly beautiful Pacific Crest Falls, tucked back into the cliff. What makes these falls interesting is that they actually slip through a big crack in the cliff face and are double/triple falls. Amazingly beautiful!

The snow levels were remarkably low, and we saw evidence of this as we started hiking. Not too far above us, the Douglas fir trees were coated in a thick layer of ice, and as we climbed higher, we finally reached the edge of a sparkling winter wonderland. While freezing rain can play havoc with drivers, the icy formations transformed the Gorge into a completely different landscape. Cheryl, a professional photographer as a hobby, was busily clicking away with her Nikon camera, while I sheepishly pulled out my simple pocket digital camera, hoping to capture similar images by some means.

The guys, meanwhile, had hiked ahead, not wanting to wait around while the gals ‘got that perfect photo’… I could tell it was time for us to wrap up the photo session when they disappeared out of sight, anxious to continue the hike.

We continued a bit farther, and came upon the jumble of volcan

ic basaltmonoliths that were dubbed the “Pinnacles” – indeed, they were. Seemingly carelessly tossed around by some giant, the rocky points were a rather surreal scene. Brad started exploring the bases, and finally found one that had a fairly accessible trail that went up. I waited for a bit, worried about my creaky knees, but then decided to go for it, and clambered up after him.

Peering through the trees, I spotted Brad far above me on a very thin little hogback. Normally, I am pretty ‘girlie’ about getting down and dirty and scrambling up sheer faces, but emboldened by my new hiking boots, I headed up anyway. Brad was a little surprised, but gave me encouragement and advice on getting my grip on the rocky outcrop. At times, I was slithering along on my belly to keep my center of gravity low to the ground to keep from slipping or tipping over. Finally, a few interesting maneuvers later, I was up on the small flat top, overlooking the Herman Creek drainage basin. Above us, clouds swirled around the icy cliffs nearby, adding an ethereal touch to the moment.

We turned around at this point, as the formerly gorgeous ice formations were now melting, and our rain gear had reached maximum saturation. I was cold and wet, with the repeated icy drips from the branches above chilling me to the bone. The return trip helped warm us up, and we arrived at the car happy and exhilarated at a new hiking find not far from Portland!

Thanks, Chris! We hope you’ll visit us again soon!

What’s the best part of Terry’s Road Trip? Well, you get to help him plan it! Submit travel tips to Terry and you’ll be entered to win a two-night Central Oregon getaway.

So….what are you waiting for? Send Terry on the Road!

It’s a view that’s never twice the same down a trail that leads to a timeless place. The Tom McCall Preserve atop Rowena Crest is in the heart of the Columbia River Gorge where right now is the prime time for spring wildflowers.

The diverse colors are born of the nearly three hundred different wildflower species that grow on the Tom McCall Preserve. The preserve is an important link in the chain of Nature Conservancy Preserves across Oregon. The site was named in 1982 for Oregon Governor Tom McCall who carried a commitment for conservation.

You’ll want to explore the Tom McCall Preserve more than a little bit – perhaps to wander the mile-long trail toward the Columbia River or the three mile version the loops uphill. Both are fine adventures for folks with time and patience and a love of the Oregon outdoors. The Tom McCall Preserve is the sort of place that will satisfy your curiosity, let your heart soar and perhaps restore your soul in the beauty that is found in Oregon.

This week, we’re heading high atop Rowena Crest at the Tom McCall Preserve with noted landscape photographer Steve Terrill. While we’re there, we’ll enjoy the spectacular and colorful display of wildflowers in the heart of the Columbia River Gorge.

To see this episode, tune into KGW NewsChannel 8 Friday at noon, or check back here on Monday!

Can’t wait? Check out photos here.

When it’s grey and dreary in Portland, a forty-five minute drive east rewards you with sun and blue skies. For several years, this is exactly where my biking partner husband and I go for a day-long bike ride in the spring or fall. Fulton Canyon is our favorite. Never in summer or winter, only spring or fall, when the weather is cool with blue skies and the sun is warm and air dry.

We pack a snack, grab helmets, snap the bikes onto the car rack, then hit the road driving east on Highway 84 through The Dalles to the Deschutes River Park exit. From there we drive along the frontage road, over the Deschutes River as it flows into the Columbia. Where the asphalt of Fulton Canyon Road joins the frontage road, we park the car at a wide graveled area, the kind of place used by state road crews to store piles of gravel for freezing weather.

Once the bikes are off the car, and helmets adjusted, we head up Fulton Canyon Road pedaling a slow, steady pace for the climb. The road follows the narrow canyon that cuts down through the Oregon Columbia Gorge hills, to the wide Columbia River below. The climb is steady for several miles on a road with only occasional traffic. This gives me time to look around and think. Two lanes of asphalt with a brightly-painted yellow dash separate traffic in each direction. The yellow lines remind me of Texan Jim Hightower’s quote about social politics in his state. “The only things in the middle of the road are yellow stripes and dead armadillos.” When a pickup truck passes on the other side of the road, I start to wonder if the rancher driving will take exception to Spandex clad bicyclists on the road that is mostly traveled by pickups. Instead, the driver is considerate, giving us wide space and a friendly wave.

As I ride more slowly, breathing deeper, up the increasingly steep grade towards the Columbia Plateau, fresh green wheat fields flow and wave with a light wind on one side while Tuscan brown fields on the other show tracks of recent tilling. Even though we have biked this route several times, we see only a snap-shot view of the hillsides for a few hours each season. An urban person, I wonder what it would be like to live on a farm, to know when and what kind of wheat is planted. Left foot pushes down then the right foot down. I pedal slowly up the canyon road, reflecting that farm life would have a rhythm, too. Tilling, planting, harvesting and tilling, again.

On one spring Sunday, crisply painted, trim farm houses with front porches and freshly mowed front lawns stand facing the road. The windows of a second storey front bedroom stare out to the road and hillsides beyond. Houses, farm yards, barns, equipment, but no people are visible. Butler bee hive corrugated metal silos, green and yellow John Deere tractors and a collection of harvesting equipment stand idle in side and back yards. As we pedal upward, the wind picks up, pushing from behind, making the eight mile climb easier and faster. Occasionally the wind carries the lilting songs of meadow larks across fields to my ears, or their golden yellow breasts catch sunlight as they bob.

Down to plain wood with no paint, a clapboard one-room school house stands by itself; its windows open without glass, inviting birds and mice. The steeple rises forlornly above a broken roof, weather and vandal-beaten, alone by the side of the road. Pedaling farther up the grade the wind blows harder as we come over a rise. The road curves east towards Highway 97 and, in the distance, the small town of Wasco nestled in its fold of hills. In front of us, the road stretches ahead, rising and falling over hills and down ravines. When we crest the top of the next hill, silver flashes of giant wind propellers spin in the distance, part of the newest crop of Columbia Plateau wind farms. The long metal legs of the wind towers march across the plateau in an engineer’s straight line, designed to catch the best wind currents. The flashes disappear as we coast down into the next ravine.

At the top of the next hill, we pause to look around:. Mt Adams, with full snow cover and its humped-back north, shines above the Columbia River Hills on the Washington state side. Mt Hood glistens in the sun-light as we glance backward on the next rise. This is wheat country, few trees, wide views and big spaces. Occasionally a car or truck passes, swerving politely around us.

Down a long hill and into Wasco, the town park welcomes us with a patch of soft green lawn, a couple of picnic tables, and water from a hose to fill our now empty water bottles. We have the park to ourselves, eat our snack of dried fruit and nuts and lie back on the lawn, gazing up at the trees and clear blue sky. Midnight black crows caw from telephone lines while song birds flit from limb to limb in the trees above us.

After the leisurely rest, we’re up on our bikes again and turn into downtown Wasco. On this Sunday the streets of Wasco are empty, no people walking around and most buildings barely in use. A few brick buildings, one with the faded word “Mercantile” painted on the side wall, stand empty in a town too far from freeways and too close to bigger stores. The population of about 300 people doesn’t support a restaurant or movie theater, and in fact the town is listed as a ghost town on one website.

We turn left at the corner onto a wider road and a two story wooden building with flaking paint fronts the main street. Long ago a travelers’ road house, it was purchased a few years ago by a city couple who had hoped to run a weekend business renting rooms for guests and family gatherings. It now stands with a “For Sale” sign posted in front. There isn’t much for visitors to do in Wasco, except look at grain elevators or wind turbines spinning in the distance.

The loop back to our starting point, pedaling down Scotts Canyon Road to the Columbia River, has steeper hills and deeper troughs. The wind is much stronger in the later part of the afternoon. A morning wind report had said “gusts”, but pedaling along I begin to wonder if gusts mean being blown off my bike. I lean my bike sideways into the wind, hoping that the strong blasts will keep me from falling. Nervous, and imagining the worst, I worry that the wind will suddenly stop and I’ll fall flat sideways on to the road. The image of Barbara Savage, author of Miles from Nowhere, who described being blown from her bike in high winds, runs through my brain as I grip my handle bars tighter and concentrate on the road directly ahead. Shoulders tight and strained, head down, eyes intent on the road, I miss the sights and sounds of the landscape. A narrow stream dropping down the canyon adjacent to the road is all I notice in this intense part of the ride that seems longer and steeper than the road up.

Once back to the Columbia River at the road junction with Rufus, there is a welcoming roadside café and gas station. We stop to laugh about the wind and our imagined fears. The Columbia River wind is great for wind surfing, but for bikes, when the wind hits at a ninety degree angle, it is more of a challenge. We pledge that next time we’ll leave Portland earlier in the morning, and turn our bikes west for the final eight-mile leg of the ride.

Francie Royce writes about her travel experiences at http://www.francieroyce.blogspot.com/

It was a moody afternoon and I was racking my brain trying to figure out what to do with my ‘tween’ Little Sister Sarah from the Big Brothers/Big Sisters program. She had the school afternoon off, and I was struggling with something fun that would be of interest to someone who was sixteen that wouldn’t be totally lame in a teenager’s eyes.

On a whim, I decided to take her for a drive out the Columbia River Gorge just to ‘get out of town’ and we could catch up. Incredibly, she has lived in Portland her whole life and has never been to this amazing place before, so she was game. I decided to do the “Cook’s Tour” and throw in something that would undoubtedly pique her interest.

The first photo stop we managed was outside of the town of Corbett, at the Portland Women’s Forum State Park, which offers a majestic overlook of an amazing panorama including the nearby Vista House. Sarah seemed pretty impressed with the view, and started snapping photos with her camera phone. We looked across the expanse and I reminded her that this was one of the views that were featured in the recent hit movie, “Twilight.”

Next, we moved to the historic View Point Inn, which was where“Twilight”cast and crew filmed the prom night scene. Her excitement level increased, and Sarah began even more furiously taking pictures. I had brought my camera along too, and took additional photos. As we were walking around the exterior, a friendly lady beckoned to us. “Come on in,” she said, beckoning. I was a little reluctant because I didn’t want to interfere with the business operations of the place, but it was pretty quiet on a Monday afternoon, so we stepped inside. Just inside the doorway, the gift shop was literally overflowing with movie paraphernalia and “Twilight” keepsakes. The woman was very informative, and encouraged us to take a peek into the dining room, which at the moment had just experienced re-varnishing of the wood floors, but otherwise was the set where the movie took place. Sarah was somewhat star-struck.

Fortunately, the View Point Inn representative had seen this before, and even offered to take us upstairs into the lodging area to show the rooms. We got a wonderful first-hand tour of the rest of the Inn, and she also showed us the window from the movie where the villain “Victoria” stood looking out towards the movie hero and heroine in the last scene. The owners of the Inn had decided to leave the window dressing the exact same way as it was during the movie, which I am sure that some “Twilight” buffs would appreciate.

After perusing the gift shop wares, and Sarah giggling gleefully that this little tour of ours would make her sister completely envious, we moved on through the Columbia Gorge. A number of stops took us to some of the big waterfalls that beg for photographs to be taken, and finally, Sarah looked at me sheepishly and told me she had run out of memory space on her camera phone because of all of the photos she had taken. I knew then that she had had a great time and enjoyed herself!

If you are interested in seeing some of the other Oregon locations for the movie, here are some tips:

For the surfing scenes for the movie, the movie crew moved to Indian Beach at the Ecola State Park on the Oregon Coast. The vampire-attack scene was shot at the Blue Heron Paper Company near Willamette Falls in Oregon City, while the school field trip to a greenhouse was filmed at the greenhouses found at Clackamas Community College, also in Oregon City. To see Charlie and Bella’s house, you’ll have to travel to St. Helens, where you might also recognize the historic part of the city, which doubled for Port Angeles for the shopping scene, including the Italian restaurant where Edward and Bella have dinner together.

Ironically, as a side note, I live in Portland, and in spring 2008 my husband and I had noticed that nearby Madison High School had been taken over by movie trucks and trailers. Since I was the neighborhood newsletter editor, I wandered over to get the ‘scoop’ on what flick was being filmed there. I was told it was some kind of “teenage vampire movie’ and the actors (at the time) were no giant superstars. Several of them were wandering through the parking lot between takes and I couldn’t recognize a single face. Little did I know that would change! As best as I could tell, the main scenes in the movie that were filmed literally three streets away from my house were the cafeteria and the biology lab scene.

Amazing to have a little slice of Hollywood right near my house!

Oregon winters are a lot of fun, with plenty of snow sports activities, but by the time spring rolls around, locals are craving sun and seeing the horizon again.  The good news is that all of that winter rain and snow melt transforms the usually monochromatic arid grasslands of the state into a magical green carpet.  You’ll find the landscape dotted with rare and spectacular native wildflowers, just waiting to be discovered!

Just about an hour and half to the east of Portland, Deschutes State Park is open desert grassland.  Something about being under wide horizons in the spring and watching the sun and clouds play with each other in a spectacular display of light is enough to lift anyone’s spirits, and this is just the spot to do it.

Deschutes State Park itself has a long history.  Geologically, it is where the Deschutes River descends from the high Central Oregon plateau and meets the mighty Columbia River.   In human history, this was a home to native Oregonians who fished and lived off the land.  Despite the seemingly austere surroundings, the desert is alive with many edible plants and animals, and at one point, not too far from this park, the largest ‘city’ in North America (pre-European) existed…on an annual basis, it was estimated that up to 100,000 people from tribes all across the Pacific Northwest gathered to trade.    When the emigrants came to the area via the Oregon Trail, the Deschutes Crossing tested the mettle of determined settlers who had to try and get their wagons across the wide waterway as they continued their trek west.

Today, this area is a delightful state park with green grass and tall trees and is considered an oasis to campers, river rafters and hikers.   A former rail-way bed on the east side of the river heads south from the campground, and is a great way to stretch one’s legs and put behind some easy miles. The trail itself is level and graded, but there is a separate loop that goes down and follows the river, then climbs back up and pass on its way to the top of the ridgeline for some spectacular views of the rolling wheat lands about 1,500 feet above.

My husband Brad and I had the dogs with us and set out on our spring adventure.  The morning sunlight was almost blinding and completely glorious.  Bird song surrounded us.  After a few miles, and having the canyon arc away from the Columbia River Gorge, we saw Rattlesnake Rapids down below.  A couple of years ago when I was on this hike, I had spotted a wolverine down near the river.  (!)  Never had seen one of those before, and was glad I was far above looking down. Those are particularly surly animals!!

As we continued on our hike, swallows twittered high above us, snacking on newly hatched bugs and the like, and I heard the eerie descending chirruping of a canyon wren… I positively love the call of those birds.

Finally, as we got to about the 3.75 mile mark down the trail, there was an old corral and we stopped for lunch, enjoying the sun. Brad spotted what appeared to be a rusty wheel sticking out of some underbrush near the riverbank. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be part of an old plow (horse-drawn kind) that had gotten deposited into the ground.  “Multnomah Iron Works” read the manufacturer label, still visible.  I later researched the company and it apparently existed up through World World II, as best as I could tell.

At this point in our journey, the sun had been skittishly staying hopeful as puffy clouds strained to make their way up the Gorge, but the skies were now threatening a downpour. So we kicked it into high gear and started the return trip back.  As we were walking along, the winds picked up significantly, gusting between 15-35 mph.  This normally wouldn’t be a problem, but the previous season’s tumbleweeds had other plans.  With each long-winded gust, a group of about five to six tumbleweeds came flying past us.  Somehow, we got stuck in a tempest wind tunnel that kept reversing course; we would continue heading north on the trail, and the winds kept changing so that the tumbleweeds were passing us, then getting blown right back at our faces.  As quaint as they are in Western movies, those things hurt – with prickles all the way around! Imagine that coming at you at 35 mph!  Timmy the dog ended up getting completely wigged out as the tumbleweed would get caught on his face. Poor guy!

As we drew back closer to the car, the winds died down and the temperatures warmed back up.  Our tumbleweed friends had dropped behind us to our relief, and the blue sky was restored.  Far across the Columbia River, the hills were a soft verdant green.   Brad and I looked at each other and sighed- Oregon is such a “Gorge-ous” place to live!!