Happy (Memory) Trails - A Tale of Two Odysseys

Chris enjoying a hard-earned freshly caught fish
at his secret spot (taken from self-filmed footage)

Me with friend Kim at one of the many Cape Lookout vistas
(taken by other hikers passing by)

Chris and I usually travel together and share our adventures. But recently we decided to split up for the day and take different paths through the forest to wind up with similar outcomes. Revisiting memories buried by the passing of many years—memories as vivid as if they had occurred yesterday—we both had the common goal of hopefully seeing through “today’s” eyes the beauty of a time and place long ago enjoyed. Would we each find our place, or would we discover as Thomas Wolfe said, “You can’t go home again.”

Chris’ journey involved a secret place along Oregon's Santiam River he had been fishing for over 50 years, including with his daughter over 30 years ago. He last visited/fished it about 20 years before and wondered if he could find the same solace there now. 

Chris' daughter Rainy over 30 years ago
at her dad's Santiam spot...

Rainy proud of her trout...

For me, I had hiked an Oregon coastal cape about 30 years ago and had vivid memories of the spectacular vistas; I wanted to at least find the hike again and see if the views would still inspire me.

Different Strokes...

We like many of the same things, Chris and I, but we do have varying degrees and brands of enjoyment when it comes to hiking through the woods. Believe me, I knew that I was marrying a Jeremiah Johnson 20 years ago. In our 4 years together prior to “sealing the deal”, I learned how much he liked his independence and was witness to many examples of how he leans towards handling everything by himself. He also likes to...shall we say...“off-road” on foot. In other words, no trail needed. He just tromps through brush and other impediments without a care. His Dad calls him a “billy goat of the woods” and it certainly fits—he seems to merrily skip and hop along, whether it's crossing a log over rushing water or bulldozing his way through Devil's Club or other atrocities. Bruises and scratches are a proud result of a great hike for him.

Chris' trail today--lots harder to navigate than it was years ago...
lots more stuff to plow through!!

Today, there is no end to the obstacles on Chris' "trail".

Me? I really like a good trail. And those logs he's skipping along across? You'll find me crawling and dragging my carcass in order to make sure I don't break any (more) bones, thank you very much. And I prefer my wonders of nature to be relatively injury-free.

Kim walking ahead of me on our Cape trail...
Notice the actual trail here!

The other thing we differ on is the appropriate time to go do our outdoor things. Chris is an early bird...like EARLY...we're talking 3:00 or 4:00 am. I like to try and get a good night's sleep of oh, say 7 hours or so and ease into the exploration, but if I care to join said Jeremiah-Johnson-husband Chris on adventures, and most of the times I do, I have to alter my clock accordingly.

The most extreme example of this difference happened on our last trip to Idaho when we scouted/explored that country for a hunt tag Chris had applied for. Okay, so when Chris asked the woman running our Motel/Cafe what time they opened for breakfast the following morning, I naturally jumped to the conclusion that we were perhaps going to have some breakfast before taking off for some scouting. When she said “6:30,” I thought, “Great! It's 9:00 pm...I should be able to get in a good bit of sleep before we have breakfast and take off—cool!” My bad. Shouldn’t jump to conclusions—duh!

We got to sleep around 10:00 pm and then I had to get up at 2:00 am for a “calling” in the bathroom. I stumbled into the little room, and looked forward to stumbling my way back to bed when I opened the door. But then greeting me upon cracking said door was a very excited Chris—with all the annoying enthusiasm of, say, Richard Simmons on 5 cups of espresso—exclaiming, “Hey! Let's go scouting NOW!” like it was the most exciting idea he had come up with in a long time. I managed to get myself together by 2:30, much to Chris' exasperation at my slowness, and we did head off. 

Now here's the thing Chris keeps pointing out to me about getting such early starts: you do wind up seeing some pretty amazing things. And that morning was no exception. As we crept along the road towards our scouting areas, I saw an adorable little baby fox by the side of the road...probably not something I was likely to see after a comfortable get-up followed by a 6:30 am breakfast. I'm not crazy about him being right, but there you have it.

Chris and the Santiam...

Chris fishing one of his beloved Santiam spots...

So, it's no great surprise to anyone that Chris and I took very different approaches when given our separate days of exploration. Chris' Santiam hike to his secret fishing hole involved a way-early departure and a steep bush-whacking time of it. His oasis place had always been a bit of a challenge to get to, but it had been made way worse over time. 

To top off this challenge, he decided to film himself making the sojourn, as you can see from some of the still pictures from his video. His hard work paid off, and he wound up feeling reassured that his place was untouched. 

Chris examining his freshly-caught trout...

Chris building a fire where he cooked his trout in a
butter and garlic-laden foil wrap he had packed in...

He not only caught fish, he took supplies to make his own fire so that he could cook and eat his lunch right there on the rocks by the beautiful Santiam River. He was gratified that his secret was safe...even after 50 years' time. 

Enjoying his fish lunch...

Chris then lamented that the spot which used to be his "honey hole"
years ago had definitely changed.

Although he prefaced showing me his video of the horrible things he hiked through to get to his spot with, “Oh, you are going to be SO GLAD you weren't on this hike!” and I thought several times while watching the video, “Oh I am SO GLAD I wasn't on this hike!”, I was proud of and happy for him to have accomplished such a feat.

Darcie and the Cape...

One of the many views of the ocean
through the forested trees along the trail...

For years now, I have been wondering where the coastal cape hike I had taken 30 years ago had been exactly, and had been toying with various explorations to re-discover its magic. I invited my hiking buddy and long-time friend Kim Claggett to join me and off we went to try out the Cape Lookout trail near the coast.

The memories I had of the hike that lingered from years ago included a pretty secluded trail—had the place to myself!--but what really struck me back then were the vistas along the way. I remembered a winding trail through the forest where you could actually see the ocean below through the surrounding forested slopes. I loved that feeling of being in the woods and yet having the ocean right there as well. The other thing I remember well was the breath-taking place where I ate my lunch on top of the cliffs, looking out at the expanse if ocean and way-way-down at cliffs below with seagulls, looking so tiny, flying above them. I shared these images and memories with Kim and we were on a mission to decipher if this was indeed the trail that I had taken.

It was really quite thrilling to feel the same sensations and to be thinking, “Wow, I think this just might be the place!” as we rounded corner after corner of the forested ocean views. It seemed to get more and more clear that we were on the right “path” and then Kim, who was hiking ahead of me, suddenly asked with a smile, “Darcie, is this the place where you had lunch maybe? Look down there!” I actually gasped; it was such an amazing feeling to see those cliffs with seagulls swirling about way below us.

Sitting on the cliff to eat our lunch, we could see way below us,
the seagulls flying (barely visible white spots close to the cliffs here)

I had tears in my eyes as we relished the views and then sat down to eat OUR lunch, not far at all from where I had eaten mine back then. We couldn't directly recreate that bit because, due to safety issues, my old spot was chained off.

Unlike Chris, my odyssey did not involve a well-kept secret. Not at all. I don't even remember there being much of a parking lot 30 years ago and now there's quite a crowd of cars, especially in the summer. It's heartening to know that so many Oregonians get themselves and their families out for this kind of entertainment, but I felt a little whimsical for the quieter and more private days of yore. Kim and I still managed to thoroughly enjoy the day and the hike. In spite of the number of parked cars and people, we still had many parts of the trail to ourselves, so there was enough of it to spread us all out at least.

Back Home…

Would Chris have enjoyed my hike as much as I did? Probably not. He would have appreciated the vistas, but preferred to have found a more secluded place to enjoy them. He was very happy for me in finding my old “haunt” though, as he has been a part of my reminiscing over the years. He reveled in the fact that I had re-discovered my little Utopia almost as much as I did.

So Chris had his kind of day and I had mine. And we both discovered that although you can't always “go home again”, you can usually find ways to recreate your own magic around what exists today.