Day 8:

Crystal clear. It started with a beautiful drive down the old Gorge highway set to my favorite opera playlist, perfectly made for wistful thoughts.  The wide fir-covered hills were silver with a dusting of late winter snow and Mt. Hood was elusive, wrapped with a wide ring of clouds slowly giving themselves up to the sun. My goal was my favorite waterfall loop with my prized forest up top. But it was not to be. 

I made it up past the drudgery of the Multnomah Falls switchbacks, and started up the creek trail just in time to see the sun peek over the ridge to illuminate a towering stand of trees far above. The gentle wind was whistling through the trees with that desolate yet peaceful sound that I just love. And the little birds were all a twitter. It was a beautiful sight until the ice on the trail got a little too slick for my taste. 

Sadly, I turned around and headed back down.  Now, keep in mind that the goal of this loop is to ascend on one side, cross up and over the ridge, and descend on the other side, enjoying the wonder of Wakheena Falls on the way down.  I can never get enough of the water above Wakheena Falls.  It is absolutely pure white and tumbles with such confidence over the rocks. And the trail literally tracks right against the rushing water all the way to the prize, the ethereal Fairy Falls. 

So I bottomed out at Multnomah, then trekked the half mile over to the base of Wakheena and started climbing again. All in all, I think I hiked three and a half miles straight up and three and a half miles straight down.  But the water was marvelous.  And the winter storm destruction was stunning.  It was fascinating to see how precariously set these giant trees are in what amounts to very little soil on top of the solid volcanic rock.  Many trees and rocks had tumbled off high cliffs and hills to break up near the trail.
  
I'm never ready for days like this to end. So I took a quick detour to the nature preserve on my way home.  A walk down the flat gravel path to my favorite bench let me soak in the filtered light of the late winter sun while the ducks fed in the shallow marsh and the geese made a ruckus.  If not for the practicalities of the hungry people at home, I could have stayed outside until the last speck of sun fell beneath the hills.  Instead, I settled for watching it disappear from the kitchen window.