In the Footsteps of the Kalapuya

She stood up abruptly, throwing down the newspaper - mass shootings, climate changes, animals endangered, and even a major source of oxygen going up in smoke in the flaming Amazon!  Sara found it difficult to breath, feeling weary reading such news.  She glanced at her art easel across the room that beckoned her with a blank white canvas. It mirrored back her difficulty in manifesting fresh ideas, and chastised her for lacking the motivation to even paint at all!  Pushing past that persistent reminder, Sara marched to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to find a diversion from this irritating reminder. But instead of a culinary escape, she was reminded of her procrastination to shop for groceries this week.  Turning quickly while slamming the refrigerator door, she tripped over her hiking boots, mud-crusted from last week’s hike and begging for attention.  Peering out the window she noticed an ominous, cloudy sky that threatened to rain and perhaps ruin her day.  The thought of possibly being rain-soaked on the trail occurred to her - but no, she needed the silence of the woods!  Wasn’t it John Muir who said, “Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home - that wildness is a necessity” ?

       

A view of Marys Peak in Corvallis, Oregon

  Well, Sara really needed what the mountains had to offer. If you want to solve a challenge, it can’t be done on the level of the problem. What is needed is a higher perspective of things - a place where the overall picture isn’t bogged down by a lot of noisy details. As she grabbed her dirty boots and hiking essentials, she thought of a hawk she observed last week flying high over the landscape searching for food. Even the hawk knows one’s vision is better from that higher vantage point. If the hawk’s success in surviving depends of seeing the bigger picture, maybe that’s what Sara needed, too!  She would head for higher ground - a mountain that was accessible both in travel distance and in hiking challenge - Marys Peak. 

After a short drive, Sara turned at the Marys Peak sign and followed the winding road to the parking lot near the summit. Immediately, she felt a lightness confirming her decision to come here was probably a good one.  Stepping out of her car, she viewed the distant expanse of muted-colored mountains and thought, “The world looks quieter up here.”  She took a deep breath inhaling the essence of a world which appeared to be very much at peace with itself. Trekking up the spiraling summit road, Sara was inspired by an array of vibrant, alpine flora and fauna - Indian paintbrush, purple penstemon, white yarrow and blue butterflies - all painting a colorful landscape of diversity and life. No wonder the upper part of Marys Peak was designated as a Scenic-Botanical-Special-Interest-Area by the National Forest Service!  Continuing upward, she recalled what she had read in guide books about the Kalapuya native people, who, long ago made their way to the top of Marys Peak in quest of a greater vision for their life. She had read on the parking lot sign that the Kalapuya people had named this mountain, “Chateemanwi”, meaning “place of spiritual power”.  “This hike is becoming more than just a chance to exercise.” Sara mused.   Completing the spiral up to the summit, Sara was welcomed by a panoramic view that wrapped all around her like a warm embrace. While exhilarated, she was not sure about the “spiritual power” the Kalapuya claimed they experienced here, but it sure felt like “heaven on earth” to be at this highest point in the Coast Range.

Energized by the summit’s beauty, Sara felt compelled to keep hiking as she followed the Meadow Edge Trail leading her past the source of a main watershed on the mountain - Parker Creek.  Crossing the wooden footbridge, she observed a meandering flow of clear water, guided by the landforms in its journey down the hillside. Sara contemplated the courageous flow of this small beginning, as it continuously gives birth to cascades of water on its long path to Alsea River, and ultimately, to the Pacific Ocean. Finishing the Meadow Edge Loop, Sara made her way back to her car and drove down Marys Peak Road stopping at Upper Parker Falls to view the falling water. She was amazed how that small trickle of water at the source had turned into a steady flow that emanated both power and force. 

Sara longed to touch the falls, but the man-made rock wall prevented that contact. She considered for a moment climbing over the wall, but quickly dismissed that idea when a car drove by.

Parker Creek Falls, a main watershed on Marys Peak

Driving down the road, Sara began to wonder what other dramatic changes Parker Creek manifested in the landscape as it hurried down the mountainside. She remembered hearing about Lower Parker Falls on a previous guided hike and decided to drive there to see it. Turning right onto a smaller road, Sara traveled several more miles, leaving that “over civilized” feeling behind her. Arriving at Parker Creek, she parked and walked toward the half-hidden, fern-lined grotto. Moving past the towering trees on the dirt path, she was awed by the sight of a 40 foot cataract babbling over moss-covered boulders. This natural beauty was only a few yards from the road, but the experience felt many miles from anything man-made. Even though Sara felt like an intrusion in this serene, pristine place, her reasons for being so stressed seemed to wash away with this flow of water bouncing down those rocky stair steps. 

"A Peak Experience" © 2019

                                       

She made her way along the creek up a narrow trail, almost hidden by dense, verdant foliage. On a cliff looking down at the creek, Sara noticed the small figure of a woman pausing at the water’s edge. Curiously, Sara watched the woman gesturing to the sky, and then raising her arms above her head, as if offering something of herself. She then began to chant a haunting melody repeating it as she turned facing four different directions. The woman knelt down, as if in prayer to the water, and bowed her head.  Stepping out onto a rock, she reached down and scooped up a generous handful of clear water and splashed her face, letting it run down the front of her strangely styled dress. 

After repeating this several times, as if trying to rinse herself clean, she paused and closed her eyes, placing her hands on her heart. She moved her hands over her mouth and then raised her arms overhead and chanted some words unrecognized by Sara.  

The woman paused, becoming still while staring at the water, as if it had something to say to her.  In an upper tree, an owl broke the silence by hooting its call, while on the opposite bank of the creek, a deer silently stepped forward to witness what was happening in the water.  

As Sara, too, moved closer to the edge of the cliff, the woman raised her head upward and looked directly at Sara. Startled, Sara abruptly pulled back feeling ashamed of having intruded on the woman’s personal moments, but the woman in the water only continued to smile back at her. This interaction lasted only a few moments between these two women, but it appeared to transcend time and place.  “Who is this strange woman?”  thought Sara.  “Is she even real?  Is this an illusion or just some desperate woman like me looking for a way to cope with the pressures of a nerve-shaken, over civilized world?” 

Standing up suddenly, the woman at the creek turned away and disappeared so quickly into the woods it hardly seemed she had been there at all. Whatever the nature of this encounter, what was most important to Sara was not the answers to her questions about this woman, but rather the message of their heartfelt connection. That woman had interacted with the water as it were holy.  Splashing herself, she honored its sacred essence as the life blood of the earth, while at the same time, acknowledging that flow of water throughout her own body.  In this recognition was the affirmation of oneness, not only between the water and herself, but of all life everywhere. Water is what connects every living thing as one and ultimately unites us with the earth. The emotional burden that Sara had been carrying began to lighten as she pondered this reassuring truth of interconnectedness with nature. 

Slowly, Sara sauntered back to her car, stopping briefly and admiring the play of sunlight on the picturesque creek. After a few moments of gratitude, she reached down and touched the crystalline water, bringing its coolness to her forehead. Reluctantly, Sara turned from that flowing source of goodness, that had gifted her with such insight, to start her journey home. Leaving Parker creek with the companionship of a new vision, she at last felt inspired to begin her painting on that blank, white canvas that was waiting for her.

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Carol on top of Marys Peak