We’d settled in after our first, easy day in western Oregon and now had our sights set on the McKenzie River. A visit to the fabled Blue Lake and Tamolitch Falls were denied us due to some serious plumbing works being installed somewhere, but Sahalie and Koosah Falls were on our itinerary.
However, before we even got to them we stumbled upon Clear Lake, and at Lorraine’s insistence we drove in for a look. As well as being aptly named, Clear Lake’s claim to fame is that it has petrified trees in its waters.
It’s a delightful spot and it’s easy to understand why people want to come here and canoe. The lucidity of the waters is entrancing, there’s barely a ripple on the surface and the odd tree stump is visible, though they’re covered with algal blooms and weeds.
Just a kilometre or two down the road are the Sahalie Falls. For once, a carpark is almost empty – you don’t even have to alight from your vehicle to hear the roar of the falls, and that’s despite Sahalie being a long way from its peak flow. It’s a lovely day for walking, but not for photography; the bright sun has thrown contrast into the mix and we’re struggling framing shots to keep the dazzling light out.
Sahalie is what’s known as a segmented fall – having cut its way through a natural lava dam it plunges around 30 metres and races over cataracts just about all the way to Koosah Falls, where it pitches again just over 20 metres before heading off to Tamolitch Falls, where we’re denied access.
There’s a threatening but attractive violence about the McKenzie River as it scours its way in, around and over volcanic remnants, ultimately tearing them so shreds despite their dogged resistance. You get an overpowering feeling that nothing is stable here.
Having done just over four kilometres we’re satisfied with our effort so far and pack the car up and head over Santiam Pass (468m) to the town – actually, the village – of McKenzie Bridge where we stop for some lunch. In a quirky cafe adorned with all sorts of bric-a-brac and Beatle memorabilia (a band they’re self-confessed addicts to) we enjoy a repast, and then point the Corolla towards McKenzie Pass. We’d driven here just two days ago, only this time we’re fixed on spending time at the Dee Wright Observatory, a strange construction of Stone Age appearance built entirely of lava rocks. At least they didn’t have to go far for building materials!
Its purpose was to keep young men employed during the Depression and it’s such a good lookout that thousands of people stop here on their way to somewhere else. I suspect there’s nothing else like it in the world. Beneath open windows in the construction are labels indicating which mountain you’re looking at.
The Sisters is one of the most active mountains we look at – it has a bulge. The bulge is only about a foot but, when you look at the size of the mountain and consider the forces beneath lifting that whole thing up, it gets a little more scary.
Up the road aways Paulina is still steaming, releasing carbon dioxide and other hot gases while further north there’s Mount Hood, whose last major eruption was just 200 years ago. These are things to ponder over as we descend and canvas the wide variety of scenery we’ve seen today.