John Day Painted Hills

Prepare to be amazed......

My first view of these famous landmarks

Yes, this is for real.  I give you the John Day Painted Hills!

If the sight of these rounded, colorfully striped hillsides doesn't take your breath away, I can't imagine what will.

Mandatory dorky park sign photo

A place that has long been on my "must visit" bucket list, I've been wanting to see this area for years.  Late last April I finally made it happen.

Overlook trail

The Painted Hills are part of the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument.  Located in the middle of Oregon, this very unusual monument, comprised of three units, is separated by more than 50 miles of highway.  The Clarno and Sheep Rock Units are mostly focused on fossils.  But the Painted Hills Unit's claim to fame are its stunning hills.

Breathtaking vista

I left White River Falls and drove through miles of boring, barren grasslands, until reaching the town of Prineville.  Knowing this was my last opportunity to gas up for many miles, I filled my tank and made a final text to my husband that I'd made it this far (not only are there no gas stations, cell service is non-existent where I was going).

Best seat in the park

Then I covered the final fifty miles winding through the beautiful scenery of the Ochocco National Forest.  The lovely wooded mountains were a welcome sight after many miles through bleak high desert.

The rust color is due to oxidized iron

There's not much written information out there about the John Day Painted Hills.  But I did manage to glean a few tibits to aid my trip planning.  One photography website recommended visiting in late afternoon for the best light.  My timing couldn't have been better.  As I wound down out of the Ochoccos and approached the monument turnoff, it was almost four o'clock.

Base of the hills

Leaving Prineville, the darkened sky indicated rain.  Driving through the forested highway, my car was occasionally doused by a passing shower.  I worried that the cloudy skies would ruin any evening light on the hills.  And I really didn't want to be outside photographing in the rain - particularly during a thunderstorm.  But I didn't drive all this way to be foiled by bad weather, so I continued on to my destination.

Colorful close-up

Leaving the highway by the park sign, I eagerly bumped along a gravel road.  Then, turning a bend I got my first glimpse of the hills.  And I had to stop.  I'd seen many photographs of this place.  But in person the Painted Hills were so much better than any photograph could ever depict.  Golden yellow soil banded by rusty red stripes and thin black lines.  Absolutely stunning! 

Spring greenery

I parked in the first lot I came to, which offered a trail to an overlook.  Grabbing all my camera equipment I happily trekked up to the first viewpoint, and was instantly slammed by a strong gust of wind.  The windy weather I'd dealt with at White River Falls had followed me to the Painted Hills.  These windy conditions meant the tripod I'd lugged from the car was virtually useless.

Another wonderful view

No matter, I was so happy to be here I found ways to steady the camera for the hundreds of shots that followed.  A short 0.3 mile trail led visitors along a ridge with a continuous view down to the dazzling hillsides below.  In order to preserve this geological treasure, visitors are not allowed to hike around or into the Painted Hills.  But this ridgetop path gave a wonderful vantage.  A couple of the better viewpoints even had benches.  I took my time traveling to the trail's end.  With such incredible sights, I was going to be sure and capture everything.

Nature at its finest

Although the sky was still dark with clouds, no rain fell.   Then I noticed the light getting brighter.  The clouds appeared to be thinning.  Every once and awhile the sun would quickly peep through a small opening.  When this happened, it lit up the Painted Hills beautifully.  The yellow soil practically glowed.  Even when the sun dipped back behind the cloudy veil, it created a lovely high overcast light that was perfect for photography.

Arid soils

The Painted Hills began as ash erupted from ancient Cascade volcanoes over 33 million years ago.  This ash settled into a vast lake and became yellow claystone.  The unusual stripes on the hills are due to trace minerals in the claystone.  Iron oxide creates the rusty red color, while the thin black lines are due to manganese.

Wrinkly hills

On a Friday afternoon, there was very few people visiting.  During my hike along the viewpoint trail, I ran into only two small groups of people.  I sat at the farthest viewpoint for over fifteen minutes by myself, watching the light on the hills.  My reward for such a long drive.

View from the Painted Cove parking lot

After spending at least an hour viewing and photographing the main set of hills, I returned to my car and drove a mile further to the Painted Cove Trail.  This is the one place in the park that allows the public to get close to these colorful mounds.

Looking down on Painted Cove

The Painted Cove offers a nice boardwalk that takes visitors into the heart of a red and gold claystone hill.  It was nice to see the dry, cracked soil up close.  The deep grooves down the sides of the mounds made great photo subjects.

Boardwalk through the Painted Cove

I hiked a rough trail above Painted Cove.  More incredible views awaited.  In one direction a great lake spread out between the barren hills (but it was on private property so I wasn't able to get closer).  In the opposite direction was another small cluster of colorful mounds.  Great photo ops, I made maximum use of my zoom  lens.

Colorful little mounds

After photographing everything I could (and then some) at the Painted Cove, I returned to the main unit of hills.  Slowly driving along the road, I made frequent stops to capture the hills from as many different angles as I could think of.  Finally, noting the time was getting late, and realizing I needed to check into my hotel and get some dinner (I was told the only cafe in town closed at 7:30) I reluctantly pulled myself away and headed to the nearby tiny town of Mitchell.

Carroll Rim

I ended up returning to the Painted Hills the following afternoon, on my way back to Prineville.  What a difference the time of day makes on the lighting angle.  It was still early afternoon, the sun high in the sky (and no clouds).  I discovered the Painted Hills weren't as brilliantly colored as they'd been the previous evening.  No mind, I'd come back to hike to the top of Carroll Rim, an 0.8 mile, 400 foot elevation gain trek up the side of the highest hill. 

Panoramic view from Carroll Rim

After grunting to the top of Carroll Rim, I was rewarded with a breathtaking panoramic view of the entire Painted Hills Unit spread out below.  I shot many photos, but realized that this hike is best done in the final hours before sunset.  (I've bookmarked this tidbit into my brain for my next visit.)  No matter the views were still incredible and I'm very glad I returned and climbed up here.

Evening sun lights up the hills

What an amazing journey!  And such a fantastic place.  I took well over three hundred images of the Painted Hills area.  I'm very glad I made the time to finally get out to this remote National Monument and see such an incredible geologic work of nature.

I leave you with this final image - one of my last before I drove away Friday evening.  The sun came from behind the clouds for a short minute and illuminated this hillside in warm golden hues.  Absolutely stunning!  I'm considering making this spring trip to the Painted Hills an annual tradition.

But my trip isn't over yet.  I have one more post from my Eastern Oregon tour.  The following day I spent the morning in Blue Basin, part of the Sheep Rock Unit of the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument.  Keep it right here for the final chapter - coming next!


Linking to:  Weekly Top Shot and Sweet Shot Tuesday.

White River Falls

One late April weekend, I decided to take a trip.  I'd always wanted to visit the John Day Painted Hills, deep in the heart of Central Oregon.  But they're a long drive from Portland.  Long enough that an overnight stay is required to properly see everything (unless you want to travel all day and night).

The winding canyon below the falls

White River Falls had also been high on my "must visit" list for several years.  Like the Painted Hills, these falls are located in a very remote canyon of North Central Oregon.  Looking at the map, I realized if I planned my route strategically, I could hit both places in the same trip.

Upper White River Falls

So Friday morning had me on the road, navigating the bleak, grassy, rolling hill landscape south of The Dalles.  Near the hamlet of Tygh Valley, I turned down a dusty secondary road in search of the little-known cascade.  After a very long drive from Portland, I arrived at the White River Falls State Park under a high midday sun, and ferocious wind.

Abandoned power plant below the falls

Lucky for me, the roaring upper tier of the White River greeted me from the parking lot's overlook.  Gazing over the edge, I was instantly rewarded for all the time and trouble it took to get here.  The falls were sensational!  Swollen with snowmelt, the twin tiers plunged 90 feet to the canyon below.

Run down old building

Mother Nature was against me that day.  I attempted to set up my tripod to catch some longer exposure shots, but the strong wind kept trying to knock it over.  I ended up anchoring my backpack underneath the legs to stabilize things.  Wind wasn't my only issue.  The midday sun didn't help my photo taking either, casting everything in a harsh light.  Still, after driving so far to get here, I wasn't about to give up.

Interesting stone walls

A rough trail led from the overlook to the canyon below.  The ruins of an old powerhouse sat at the river's edge.  Reading a park brochure, I learned that a hydroelectric power plant located at the falls base, produced electricity between 1910 and 1963.  As I traversed the steep, rocky path to the canyon's bottom, rubble from the long-neglected facility littered the slope.  I spotted one piece of masonry inscribed with the date "1910."

Lower view of the falls

A ledge above the powerhouse provided a great view of the entire waterfall.  A second tier, not quite as tall as the upper cascade, was equally impressive.  White, foamy water churned through the narrow rock walls, to the canyon base below.

White River below the falls

After many attempts to photograph the falls in their entirety, I picked my way down the rest of the slope to the riverbank.  Perched on the water's edge, the old powerhouse building with its rock masonry walls made an interesting photo subject.  However, the structure itself didn't look all that sturdy.  I wisely kept my distance.

Scenic canyon downriver

The trail continued downriver beyond the powerhouse, so of course, I couldn't resist a little more exploration.  I bushwhacked through sections of dense sagebrush until popping out onto a rocky ledge overlooking the river.  Yellow desert parsley was blooming through cracks in the rock, and the adjacent canyon walls were bright green with new vegetation.  An especially scenic spot!

Desert parsley was blooming

I traveled about half a mile beyond the powerhouse before the trail became extremely rocky and rough.  Realizing there was still almost three more hours of driving ahead of me, I made the decision to head back. 

Rocky shelf abloom with desert parsley

But not before one last stop below the falls at the canyon's very bottom.  Near the edge of the powerhouse building, I shot this parting image, capturing all three tiers of White River's powerful cascade.

Final view of the entire waterfall

This region, located in the rain shadow of the Cascade Mountains, is very arid.  So it's quite surprising to see a waterfall of this size in the middle of a dry grassland.  A hidden jewel, far off the beaten path, it's North Central Oregon's best kept secret.

On the road again - destination the John Day Painted Hills!  Stay tuned - my next post promises many images of this truly amazing place.

My First SkiMo Race

With backcountry skiing gaining in popularity, ski resorts are beginning to sponsor uphill/downhill, or ski mountaineering, races (aka "skimo" races).  I'd read about these sort of contests in other states, but was unaware of any happening in Oregon.  That is, until this past April.

Katie and I are ready for action!

Mt. Hood Meadows and The Mountain Shop (my favorite outdoor store in Portland) decided to co-sponsor Oregon's first skimo race.  The course traversed a steep ski run called "Rams Head," so the race was nicknamed the Rams Head Randonee.  For those of you unfamiliar with skiing - randonee is another name for alpine touring, or AT, bindings.  Unlike telemark, randonee bindings allow the heels to move freely during uphill travel, but will lock down (like an alpine binding) for skiing downhill.

(It's a joke amongst us telemark skiers that randonee is French for "can't tele.")

Participants gather at the starting line

Although not the speediest uphill skier, I was intrigued enough to consider trying this race.  Not wanting to do it alone, I convinced my tele-buddy Katie to join me.  Having absolutely no clue what we were signing up for, Katie and I both joked about who would come in last place.

This guy dressed for spring skiing

The day of the race Katie was apprehensive.  The sciatic nerve was acting up in one of her legs.  I was also having second thoughts.  The prior week, Meadows published a map of the race course on their website.  I mistakenly thought we'd only have to ski uphill once, remove our climbing skins, and ski back down.  But the map showed three uphill/downhill loops on the course.  Racers would have to remove and reattach climbing skins multiple times.  Still a relatively new backcountry skier, I'm definitely not quick in climbing skin attachment or removal.  In addition, it looked like one of the loops went through a thick grove of trees and another climbed up the steepest portion of the Rams Head.  What had we gotten ourselves into?

The racecourse

Arriving at Meadows on race day, Katie and I checked in, and received two extra-gigantic jerseys with our numbers.  We took a couple of warm-up runs to gauge our bodies readiness.  When the  time neared, we found ourselves at the starting line, nervously eying all the other uber-fit competitors.

After some brief instructions (basically "get yourself up the hill any way you can") there was a countdown, the horn sounded, and the forty-plus racers rushed out onto the snow. 

Katie prior to the race start

The first uphill section wasn't too bad.  It was short and not very steep.  Although both Katie and I were definitely back of the pack, I was pleased to discover we weren't in last place (yet).  We summitted the first hill, and quickly began the transition.  It consisted of - take off the skis, remove the skins, cram the skins in the front of your coat, put the skis back on, and hustle down the hill.  A young boy, who I learned was only 6 years old, was competing in the race, chaperoned by his mother.  The little guy was so cute (and was doing so well) I couldn't help but give him some encouragement.

After photo - we survived!

The first downhill, through the forest, turned out to be a cakewalk.  Meadows had groomed a wide track through the trees, so blasting through here was a cinch.  At the bottom was another transition.  Slapping my skins back on, I readied myself for the long, steep climb ahead.

And it was a doozy!  Rams Head is a black diamond run, bordered by steep, rocky cliffs.  I could see competitors taking off their skis and walking up the steepest part.  When I reached this pitch, I found out why.  It was a warm day, and the snow was slippery and super soft.  The steep slope angle, combined with the slick snow, was causing everyone's skins to slide backwards.  I ended up doing the same thing as the racers before me.  The skis came off and were precariously perched on my shoulder.

The man who finished after me (I wasn't last place)

Ugh!  Trudging up a steep slope carrying skis totally sucked.  Sweat poured from my body, my heart hammered in my chest, and my legs fatigued.  My skis kept coming apart and sliding off my shoulder, necessitating stops to reposition.  I thought to myself "Why the h&;%$ am I doing this?"  By far the worst part of the race.  Katie, who seemed to be having way less trouble than I, powered up that hill in no time, gaining a sizable lead.

Finally reaching the second summit, I stripped off my skins for another downhill trip.  The ski down went by so quickly - lasting all of two minutes.  No time for a rest break, the skins were quickly stuck back on for the final climb.  By the time I got started, Katie was already halfway up the slope, still moving fast (she is an ironwoman!).

Katie's victory photo

The final climb thankfully wasn't as long nor as steep as the previous one.  Although totally pooped out by now, I tried to ascend as quickly as my tired legs would allow.  Katie had her skins off and was preparing to ski down by the time I reached the top.  She indicated she'd wait for me, but I told her to go ahead (it was a race after all).  Stripping off my skins, I launched myself down the final hill.

Sliding into the finish area, Katie was waiting for me.  By now, the crowd had thinned out (the majority of the competitors had finished 15-30 minutes ago).  But I was so happy to be done, I didn't care.  I had finished!  I'd survived my first skimo race!  A few minutes later, another man came sliding across the finish line.  Oh happy day!  I wasn't last place. 

My victory photo

The Rams Head Randonee was the toughest race I've ever done (much harder than the half marathon I'd run the prior week).  Skiing quickly up a steep hill is the ultimate cardio workout.  But I was extremely proud of myself for finishing the entire course (even if it did take a long time).  Katie and I both agreed we'd earned bragging rights. 

Before my car had even left the parking lot, Katie and I were already scheming our strategy for next year.  Yes, I'll be back.  I need to avenge my nearly-last place finish.  And I've got a score to settle with that Rams Head slope. 



(Linda's note:  Checking race results the following day, I learned four other people had finished after me.  So I wasn't even next-to-last!  Woo-hoo!)

Street Art

Bet you never thought of asphalt pavement as an artist's canvas.  But....this week's challenge for the 52 Photos Project is to capture some type of street art.

I was very excited when I saw this meme.  I had just the photo!

Both my kids played instruments in their high school band.  Every spring, one of the band's highlights was marching in the Portland Rose Festival Grand Floral Parade (similar to Pasadena's Tournament of Roses parade on a slightly smaller scale).  My husband and I would always watch our kids perform - sometimes sitting along the parade route, and other times by volunteering to march along with the kids, providing water for thirsty musicians.

I always loved helping out.  It was great fun to walk with the band and hear the crowd's cheers.  Of course, this also provided some wonderful photo ops. You can be sure my camera was never left at home.

Since the streets were closed many hours prior to the parade's start, it was a tradition for children of all ages to take sidewalk chalk to the pavement and produce blocks of colorful creations.  I captured this image as the band marched across some very vibrant artwork.  It's remained one of my very favorite photos from our marching band days.

To see more pavement creativity, check out this week's 52 Photos Project.

Oxbow Park

Another post from the past......still trying to catch up from mid April!  (Bear with me)

Size matters!  Click on any photo to enjoy a larger version.

The mighty Sandy River

The day before the Corvallis Half Marathon, I was supposed to be taking it easy.  But not wanting to waste a Saturday, I had to do something outside.  I briefly considered skiing the morning, but a wet forecast for Mt. Hood but the kibosh on that idea.  Rain and windy weather were also predicted for the Portland area.

Oregon grape

Maybe a short hike?  I had raingear......it wouldn't be the first time taking a hike in the rain.  Pulling out my Sullivan "100 Hikes" book for guidance I hoped to zero in on something close by.

Colorful rocks in the river's beach

Oxbow Park caught my attention.  A place I'd yet to visit.  Located east of Gresham along the Sandy River, and a short drive across town.  Grab the camera - time to check it out!

Riverbank erosion

Oxbow Regional Park is a 1000-acre natural area along the Sandy River.  It's managed by Metro, Portland's regional government.  The park boasts ancient forests with huge old-growth trees, plentiful wildlife, and a windy, fast-flowing river attracting fisherman and boaters.  To protect the wild animals within the park, pets are not allowed.  So poor Bear had to stay home.  :(

The woods beckon....

Sullivan's book recommended starting at the boat dock and taking a clockwise path through the maze of trails in the park.  Finding the boat launch was easy.  But shortly beyond this point, the path ended.  It appeared the riverbank had eroded away, and taken the trail with it.

Bleeding heart flowers

With no path to follow, I ended up retracing my steps back to the parking lot, and walking along the park road for a short stretch before finding the trail again.

Moss makes an intricate pattern on this rock

This path led me down to the river's gravelly shore.  Multi-colored rocks lined the sandy beach.  The river, swollen by snowmelt churned mightily.  Trees, fresh with the neon green colors of new leaves, lined both sides.  A wonderful sight indeed!

Trillium!

Leaving the riverbank, the trail then dived into thick woods, green with moss and ferns.  Large fir and cedar trees lined the footpath, towering above.

Bright green path

The park's trail network wasn't very well marked, so I managed to get myself turned around a bit (it also didn't help I'd left my trail map in the car).  But at a junction, I opted to follow a overgrown road.  Not too far away was a lovely patch of bleeding heart flowers.  Excellent photo subjects!

Rafters hit the rapids

Meandering through the forest, I started to see lovely white trillium flowers.  I took copious photos of the first one I saw, only to round a bend and come upon an area chock-full of perfect trillium blooms.

Floating down the river

This trail spit me out back at the river's edge.  Taking a quick break, I was digging something out of my backpack, when I happened to spot a bunch of kayaks and two rafts floating through the rapids.  The camera quickly came up and I managed to grab a few shots.  It sure looked like a lot of fun!

Serviceberry

The riverbank area was thick with bright yellow Oregon grape and a few fuzzy white serviceberry flowers.

Moss-draped trees

Diving back into the the park's deep forests, the trail ambled through an area full of mossy trees.  The droopy tree branches looked like long arms just waiting to grab someone.  Almost like something out of a horror show (zombie tree apocalypse!)

Corydalis

Nearby, more new flowers were on display.  A clearing was full of pink tubular Corydalis blooms.

Sandy River bend

Finally, my trail left the mossy old-growth forests and routed back along the Sandy River.  High above the river's edge, it provided a nice vantage point to view the water's majestic oxbow bends.

Another trillium - just because!

With all my wandering I think I covered about four miles.  The rain stayed away for the entire afternoon.  And being early spring, I practically had the place to myself.  Not knowing what to expect from the park, I was pleasantly surprised to find a wealth of spring wildflowers and a picturesque river.  Glad I decided to get out and visit!


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