Punchbowl Falls
Sarah and I are still working out a system for traveling together. I have my photographic priorities, while she is used to more laid back vacations. For our trip to Oregon we tried to keep our days flexible to keep stress from accumulating if we miscalculated the duration of a hike, made a spontaneous stop along the way, or maybe the totally predictable spring weather decided to throw a tantrum. For our first day, we laid out three hikes we hoped to accomplish. Little did we know, the first hike would completely derail the entire trip.
Punchbowl Falls is one, of many, picturesque waterfalls in the Columbia River Gorge that cuts its way through northern Oregon. It serves as a popular swimming hole in the summer on top of its reputation as one of the most popular hikes in the state. We began our trek on a drizzly Thursday afternoon, hoping the combination of a weekday capped with gloomy weather would hinder the crowds. The camera can get frustrated having to work around oblivious pedestrians.
The popularity of the hike is evident from both the parking and trail maintenance. There is ample parking in the well marked lot at the end of the paved road that takes you past plenty of overflow parking areas. The trail is well maintained, flat and wide, with safety rails at the two portions that hug drop-offs. The hike itself totals just under four miles, round trip, with moderate elevation changes throughout. The only thing taking your breath away will be the scenery.
Deep in the Columbia River Gorge, we made our way through a valley cut by Eagle Creek. The trail winds through old growth forests of moss covered earth, hugging fern coated cliffs with vistas of the adjacent mountain ridge. What little rain penetrated the towering conifers shading the trail cut back the humidity like a refreshing mist. Rock and roots break up the sediment on the path, keeping the mud to a minimum. We pause at a brook that cuts the trail, and I contemplate a picture before hop scotching across the surfacing rocks.
Our hike continued along the ridge to the muted sound of Eagle Creek, deafened by the woods. As we neared the end, we came to a fork in the road. The right option leads down to the riverbed, while the left option brings you around to the upper falls. I break to the right as Sarah follows. I've seen pictures of what lies ahead, and I feel the excitement guide my decision. The path dives down the valley, finally putting some heat in our legs.
We pass a glowing sapphire waterfall hidden behind a pair of mist soaked logs. The roaring falls seem misplaced compared to the silent, glass like flow leading toward it. The terrain levels off to a clearing of glossy river rock, slick from the persistent rain. In the belly of the valley, surrounded by walls of plant littered rock, we finally see the gem of the gorge.
Plunging 36 feet into the crystal clear pool is a continuous stream of bubbling white water. For all the force of the falls, it doesn't take long for the water to calm down to a slow flow of liquid glass. The river floor is made up entirely of earth-toned rock with small, gray stones, scattered like grains of salt thrown on a plain of chocolate and caramel.
I rip off the tripod and start setting the camera up while Sarah scans the water for fish and snaps some pictures on her phone. I envy her job on occasions like this, she gets to bask in the beauty while I contemplate going swimming to find a better angle. I do settle on an assortment of rocks half submerged in the frigid water and fight to keep my balance on my tip toes and the few dry rocks available. The location is so enticing I have to remind myself to keep my eye in the camera.
The hope of beating the crowds paid off as Sarah and I are the only ones around. I have no hope for the overcast sky to leak a ray of sunshine any time soon, so I test a few more angles before packing up. Satisfied with our first hike of the day we decide to make our way back. We don't get far before I tell Sarah to stop so I can examine the landscape around the first waterfall we passed. Just downstream from Punchbowl Falls, the first falls we passed appears to be churning harder than its hallmark neighbor. Probably four times the width of Punchbowl, the sister falls is pouring into a fluorescent blue pool.
I navigate the trees and climb over rocks trying to get a proper vantage point with no luck. The only safe area is next to the mouth. So I grab a seat next to one of the fallen trees lodged between the walls of the gorge. To my surprise Sarah has followed me in, undoubtedly concerned I'll try to make my way onto one of the logs. She sits down and together we just stare. That morning we woke up at our home in Denver, drove through rush hour to the airport, sat on a plane for two hours, picked up our rental car and battled unfamiliar streets and hunger trying to find parking in downtown Portland for lunch. After all the stress of traveling, we found ourselves sitting in the middle of the Oregon wilderness, without a care in the world.
We realized halfway back to the car, there wasn't going to be time for the second or third hike, having lost all sense of reality in the tranquility of Punchbowl Falls and Eagle Creek. The best part was neither of us cared. We spent the drive back to town rescheduling our weekend. Before we even boarded that big metal bird bound for Portland, we knew there was going to be too much to see in that beautiful state. By the end of the trip we would cancel four hikes, make a couple unexpected stops, and have one hell of a time. It took one day to throw a wrench into our plans. All it did was get us started planning our return trip.
Punchbowl Falls is one, of many, picturesque waterfalls in the Columbia River Gorge that cuts its way through northern Oregon. It serves as a popular swimming hole in the summer on top of its reputation as one of the most popular hikes in the state. We began our trek on a drizzly Thursday afternoon, hoping the combination of a weekday capped with gloomy weather would hinder the crowds. The camera can get frustrated having to work around oblivious pedestrians.
The popularity of the hike is evident from both the parking and trail maintenance. There is ample parking in the well marked lot at the end of the paved road that takes you past plenty of overflow parking areas. The trail is well maintained, flat and wide, with safety rails at the two portions that hug drop-offs. The hike itself totals just under four miles, round trip, with moderate elevation changes throughout. The only thing taking your breath away will be the scenery.
Deep in the Columbia River Gorge, we made our way through a valley cut by Eagle Creek. The trail winds through old growth forests of moss covered earth, hugging fern coated cliffs with vistas of the adjacent mountain ridge. What little rain penetrated the towering conifers shading the trail cut back the humidity like a refreshing mist. Rock and roots break up the sediment on the path, keeping the mud to a minimum. We pause at a brook that cuts the trail, and I contemplate a picture before hop scotching across the surfacing rocks.
Our hike continued along the ridge to the muted sound of Eagle Creek, deafened by the woods. As we neared the end, we came to a fork in the road. The right option leads down to the riverbed, while the left option brings you around to the upper falls. I break to the right as Sarah follows. I've seen pictures of what lies ahead, and I feel the excitement guide my decision. The path dives down the valley, finally putting some heat in our legs.
We pass a glowing sapphire waterfall hidden behind a pair of mist soaked logs. The roaring falls seem misplaced compared to the silent, glass like flow leading toward it. The terrain levels off to a clearing of glossy river rock, slick from the persistent rain. In the belly of the valley, surrounded by walls of plant littered rock, we finally see the gem of the gorge.
Plunging 36 feet into the crystal clear pool is a continuous stream of bubbling white water. For all the force of the falls, it doesn't take long for the water to calm down to a slow flow of liquid glass. The river floor is made up entirely of earth-toned rock with small, gray stones, scattered like grains of salt thrown on a plain of chocolate and caramel.
I rip off the tripod and start setting the camera up while Sarah scans the water for fish and snaps some pictures on her phone. I envy her job on occasions like this, she gets to bask in the beauty while I contemplate going swimming to find a better angle. I do settle on an assortment of rocks half submerged in the frigid water and fight to keep my balance on my tip toes and the few dry rocks available. The location is so enticing I have to remind myself to keep my eye in the camera.
The hope of beating the crowds paid off as Sarah and I are the only ones around. I have no hope for the overcast sky to leak a ray of sunshine any time soon, so I test a few more angles before packing up. Satisfied with our first hike of the day we decide to make our way back. We don't get far before I tell Sarah to stop so I can examine the landscape around the first waterfall we passed. Just downstream from Punchbowl Falls, the first falls we passed appears to be churning harder than its hallmark neighbor. Probably four times the width of Punchbowl, the sister falls is pouring into a fluorescent blue pool.
I navigate the trees and climb over rocks trying to get a proper vantage point with no luck. The only safe area is next to the mouth. So I grab a seat next to one of the fallen trees lodged between the walls of the gorge. To my surprise Sarah has followed me in, undoubtedly concerned I'll try to make my way onto one of the logs. She sits down and together we just stare. That morning we woke up at our home in Denver, drove through rush hour to the airport, sat on a plane for two hours, picked up our rental car and battled unfamiliar streets and hunger trying to find parking in downtown Portland for lunch. After all the stress of traveling, we found ourselves sitting in the middle of the Oregon wilderness, without a care in the world.
We realized halfway back to the car, there wasn't going to be time for the second or third hike, having lost all sense of reality in the tranquility of Punchbowl Falls and Eagle Creek. The best part was neither of us cared. We spent the drive back to town rescheduling our weekend. Before we even boarded that big metal bird bound for Portland, we knew there was going to be too much to see in that beautiful state. By the end of the trip we would cancel four hikes, make a couple unexpected stops, and have one hell of a time. It took one day to throw a wrench into our plans. All it did was get us started planning our return trip.
Sounds and looks amazing!
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