As our eyes roamed downstream from Drift Creek Falls, we blinked several times. What is that?
Were we alone? Did something untoward happen? Or had Alice and I stumbled across a West Coast version of Ireland’s “little people?” Are these miniature characters alive? Are they descendants of leprechauns, or are mischief-makers deceiving us?
Our drive to Drift Creek Falls
Let’s put this in perspective. Leaving Hillsboro’s toasty 85 degrees on Friday, May 29th, I drove Alice McCormick and myself south, turning onto Oregon Highway 18 toward Lincoln City. We eventually turned left onto Bear Creek Road (just west of Rose Lodge and milepost 5, or five miles east of where OR-18 intersects US 101).
Passing the historic Drift Creek covered bridge (originally built in 1914), we headed nine miles into the Coast Range on paved one-lane Forest Road 17, negotiating plenty of switchbacks – no guardrails, either – toward the trailhead where 67-foot, picturesque Drift Creek Falls awaited. Although elk in the area are prevalent, we saw none. Temperature was an exertion-perfect 60 degrees.
Walking at 1,000 feet elevation
The trail itself is rated “easy,” because it’s well-graded, although several drops and rises in elevation can render a novice hiker out of breath by the end of its 1¼-mile one-way distance. At its terminus, a breathtaking 240-foot suspension bridge, built in 1998 and rated to hold 75 tons, traverses a 100-foot drop below.
Dogs are allowed to accompany their human guides, although there are tales (and tails, too!) of dogs freezing up while negotiating the slightly-swinging suspension bridge. But we only support a cat and left her at home, since Millie is loathe to travel contentedly.
Mountain air can cause the mind to play tricks
The usually rain-drenched trail flanked by ferns, alder trees and vine maple tested Alice nicely, and once we crossed the eye-popping bridge she was game to descend 100 feet for another quarter-mile walk to the babbling water’s edge. While we appreciated the sight of the suspension bridge and sound of water roaring above us, our wandering eyes crossed downward to the opposite stone-strewn bank.
Rock gnomes!
Perhaps it was the clean mountain air, but our imaginations turned vivid as we looked down toward our sneakers worriedly. Could we possibly espy a leprechaun running about? Who assembled all these rocks in precarious positions? Did they assemble themselves? Or are these magic stones?
I could ask Christy Lewis, that’s what. She’s the Siuslaw National Forest service’s information receptionist, who calls the creatures “rock stacks.” I bet she would know. But I don’t want to turn this post into a true journalism piece lest we dash asunder future dreams (something akin to Disney’s “Fantasia”).
A Spry and Shapely Companion
Alice’s condition snapped me out of my reverie, because she warned it was getting late. On our way back where we saw a fork designating a northern trail loop (narrower and somewhat longer), she rejected any descriptive narrative of what may lay ahead. Nevertheless, I get the last word, since Alice’s hike makes it germane to include “before” and “after” photos of her splendid adventure to Drift Creek Falls.
We’re back in our apartment planning the workweek ahead, and I must say: As nice as Portland and surrounding areas can be, a 2-hour-plus drive to Drift Creek Falls produced more than anticipated. And I’d like to come back, except in Oregon there’s so much more to see.
Now if only those memories of seeing rock gnomes would leave me alone!
UPDATE: Alice suffered a gushing nosebleed the following night, prompting a quick trip to the emergency room on Saturday, May 30. Fortunately, medical personnel at Kaiser Permanente’s Westside Hospital stopped the bleed quickly, and she was released in less than two hours. No one attributed the incident to her strenuous hike.