Multnomah Falls
Every state has a famous tourist attraction, a one stop must see location. These places are usually overcrowded with tourists trying to check off the grandest sight in all the land. Most of these sites have adapted to the influx of visitors and as a result, have become commercialized. Like a mini version of Disney, they come complete with gift shops, snack shacks, and don't forget to buy your commemorative photo taken by the lady that looks clinically insane from forcing smiles all day. For Oregon, this is Multnomah Falls.
In Multnomah's defense you can literally hop, skip and jump from your car to the base. Driving down interstate 84 you can catch a glimpse as you bend around the overflow parking lot that divides the east and west lanes. Had Multnomah been buried three miles in a forest its natural allure might remain preserved. For a waterfall of this magnitude, either a road or a shuttle system would inevitably have been implemented to keep it accessible. Being so conveniently located, Multnomah teeters on the verge of tourist trap. The waterfall starts to lose its grandeur as you limbo under selfie sticks and weave through tour groups.
If you could go to Multnomah without anyone around, the experience would be borderline religious. It's a neck straining 611 foot waterfall. The first tier plunges 542 feet between a pair of rock outcroppings with skyscraper like trees framing the falls. As Multnomah Creek funnels over into a free fall, the flow disintegrates as it hits the air. The steady creek is reduced to droplets that dance like sparks leaving a fire. You can hike up a steep, paved path to the picturesque Benson Bridge that spans the gap where you can bask in the refreshing mist of Multnomah. Here, away from the crowds, you are consumed by the enormity of the falls. The thunder of the water hitting rock echoes in your ears, creating a sense of awareness. Closing your eyes, the wind and spray tickling your face will chill you to your core. The chaos below is obliterated as you feel yourself falling with Multnomah Creek.
We ended up at Multnomah Falls three times throughout the trip. Had I just accepted what I shot the first time, the experience would have remained positive. We stopped in on our way back from Punch Bowl Falls to a deserted parking lot. An overcast sky and pestering mist had kept the crowds away but made for a flat image. I held onto the hope that some sun might creep over the north facing cliff, giving a warm illuminating glow behind the trees.
Our second and third stops revealed the mayhem that can occur at Multnomah Falls. Parking had reached anarchy mode, with frustrated drivers abandoning their cars wherever they deemed fit. The walk from the main lot to the falls is about 100 yards and the entire way was an obstacle course. The single platform at the base of the falls serves as a corral for selfie takers. I stood in awe, watching families and couples wait for a hole to snap a picture before making for the exit. The spectacle had become the number of guests that spend the majority of their time with their backs to the attraction.
After two more trips with relentless cloud cover, reluctantly, I put my camera to work. I lost my patience waiting for the bridge to clear up and trying to keep the foreground clear. This wasn't a problem on our first trip Thursday evening. Multnomah had become a chore since then. Between finding parking and fighting the crowds to get an angle, Multnomah had lost its appeal. I was determined to get out of there with something to make it all worth while.
My lasting impression of Multnomah is a zoo. If I push past that initial memory, I am standing on Benson Bridge again. The leg burning hike served as an escape route from the mess at the bottom. The trail is steep and either deters people or gives them a high that propels them on to the top. The bridge becomes a place of limbo. Bystanders evaporate as the swirling water hypnotizes you. Multnomah's roar is like a continuous om relinquishing all stress. If you can find a happy place in Multnomah you can leave with kindness in your heart. Or you can get absorbed by the chaos and use a selfie stick to smash the window of the car that parked you in.
In Multnomah's defense you can literally hop, skip and jump from your car to the base. Driving down interstate 84 you can catch a glimpse as you bend around the overflow parking lot that divides the east and west lanes. Had Multnomah been buried three miles in a forest its natural allure might remain preserved. For a waterfall of this magnitude, either a road or a shuttle system would inevitably have been implemented to keep it accessible. Being so conveniently located, Multnomah teeters on the verge of tourist trap. The waterfall starts to lose its grandeur as you limbo under selfie sticks and weave through tour groups.
If you could go to Multnomah without anyone around, the experience would be borderline religious. It's a neck straining 611 foot waterfall. The first tier plunges 542 feet between a pair of rock outcroppings with skyscraper like trees framing the falls. As Multnomah Creek funnels over into a free fall, the flow disintegrates as it hits the air. The steady creek is reduced to droplets that dance like sparks leaving a fire. You can hike up a steep, paved path to the picturesque Benson Bridge that spans the gap where you can bask in the refreshing mist of Multnomah. Here, away from the crowds, you are consumed by the enormity of the falls. The thunder of the water hitting rock echoes in your ears, creating a sense of awareness. Closing your eyes, the wind and spray tickling your face will chill you to your core. The chaos below is obliterated as you feel yourself falling with Multnomah Creek.
We ended up at Multnomah Falls three times throughout the trip. Had I just accepted what I shot the first time, the experience would have remained positive. We stopped in on our way back from Punch Bowl Falls to a deserted parking lot. An overcast sky and pestering mist had kept the crowds away but made for a flat image. I held onto the hope that some sun might creep over the north facing cliff, giving a warm illuminating glow behind the trees.Our second and third stops revealed the mayhem that can occur at Multnomah Falls. Parking had reached anarchy mode, with frustrated drivers abandoning their cars wherever they deemed fit. The walk from the main lot to the falls is about 100 yards and the entire way was an obstacle course. The single platform at the base of the falls serves as a corral for selfie takers. I stood in awe, watching families and couples wait for a hole to snap a picture before making for the exit. The spectacle had become the number of guests that spend the majority of their time with their backs to the attraction.
After two more trips with relentless cloud cover, reluctantly, I put my camera to work. I lost my patience waiting for the bridge to clear up and trying to keep the foreground clear. This wasn't a problem on our first trip Thursday evening. Multnomah had become a chore since then. Between finding parking and fighting the crowds to get an angle, Multnomah had lost its appeal. I was determined to get out of there with something to make it all worth while.
My lasting impression of Multnomah is a zoo. If I push past that initial memory, I am standing on Benson Bridge again. The leg burning hike served as an escape route from the mess at the bottom. The trail is steep and either deters people or gives them a high that propels them on to the top. The bridge becomes a place of limbo. Bystanders evaporate as the swirling water hypnotizes you. Multnomah's roar is like a continuous om relinquishing all stress. If you can find a happy place in Multnomah you can leave with kindness in your heart. Or you can get absorbed by the chaos and use a selfie stick to smash the window of the car that parked you in.
Comments
Post a Comment