Sunday Mornings on the McKenzie

I’ve been fortunate to spend a good amount of time getting to know the McKenzie River lately. After living in the Willamette Valley for so many years, you would think I would have headed up this way more often, but the Coast Range, Willamette Pass, and Southern Oregon have been the primary areas of my expeditions, reserving the McKenzie River watershed as an unexplored gem. On the weekends I have stayed up in Blue River with my partner, he has gone for morning runs on the McKenzie River trail, while I (not being any sort of a runner) have gone for some peaceful Sunday morning walks. After growing up around the Elwha, Dungeness, Soleduc, Hoh, and a whole array of other beautiful, wild rivers of the Olympic Peninsula that I consider something close to old friends, I am always glad get acquainted with a new one. And I must say, the McKenzie is growing on me fast.

Running the McKenzie trail is an important part of my partner’s life, so I am taking my time getting to know this area as a place I will be taking many more Sunday morning walks. The last time we went, I tried to push myself to cover as much ground as I could, and take in as much as possible. I passed through mossy cathedrals, crossed gurgling streams, and followed many twists and turns of the riverbank as the different shades of green passed by and blended into one another. This time, I was in a different sort of mood, and not unlike a snail, made my way along slowly, examining every different moss, lichen, mud puddle and budding twig I encountered. 

This section of trail afforded a few more open views of the river than the previous one I walked, so I enjoyed looking out and seeing the rapids and rocks visible beneath the clear flowing water. Deciduous trees are just starting to put out their leaf buds, so the colors were very striking on this particular morning. 

Mosses are beginning to put out new growth as well with the warmer weather, carpeting the forest floor in the most vibrant shades of green. 

I kept noticing reflections in riverside pools, and this one of a cedar branch hanging overhead really delighted me. My partner pointed out that the pool was shaped a bit like a heart. 

I have always enjoyed the lacy skeletons left of leaves that have broken down over the winter, and found this one particularly beautiful. 

With all the precipitation in this watershed, there are miniature forests of mosses covering rocks, logs, tree trunks and open ground. I like the contrast in texture of the different varieties growing together.

And finally, not being in any sort of hurry, I even spent some time gazing in mud puddles. 

It was just a puddle-gazing kind of day. 

It’s interesting how we go about getting to know outdoor places as an adult. Growing up in the forests of the Olympic Mountain foothills, I simply absorbed the colors, textures, smells, topography and plant life around me, making it familiar in ways difficult to articulate. I got to know those rivers and forests by playing around on the rocks along the banks, catching tadpoles in puddles, scaling logs and climbing trees to see the view spread out below. Now I find myself thinking about the plant life, trying to recall the Latin names for genus and species of those I recognize, seeing art in a cedar bough’s reflection in a pool, and noticing signs of the oncoming Spring. And yet, I feel as though I am absorbing the McKenzie River just as well as the Dungeness whose banks I splashed around on in my youth, and it feels familiar in a similar way. It’s rather like meeting a new friend you feel like you’ve known all your life. I am looking forward to my adventures with the McKenzie. We’re going to have a grand time.