Walk with me. A lot of joy and a bit of contemplation. This time along the Metolius river and adjacent forests, in Central Oregon near the town of Sisters.
To get there from Portland you drive through mountains that have been burned to crisp in recent years, and along lakes that are lower than ever. Climate change is inevitably on your mind,
Detroit Lake – the floater lines on the right denote where the swimming areas used to be, now dried out.
and then you turn off the highway and veer into an area that is lushly green, filled with the sounds of a healthy river, and you feel like you have landed in paradise.
The Metolius is a 29 miles-long, vibrant river that flows from its spring through the Deschutes National Forest into Lake Billy Chinook then empties into the Deschutes and Crooked rivers.
Its free-flowing condition is protected by the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act of 1968, established during the heyday of environmental protection attempts under President Lyndon B. Johnson, for rivers with outstanding natural, cultural or recreational values. Only 209 of our 250.000 rivers have been granted that protection. For the Metolius this was awarded in 1988. The Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife manages the river.
Morning and Evening Light along the river. Low 40s in the morning, mid 90s in the afternoon. Bring a down jacket!
The land around the river is US Forest Service land and so cannot easily be built up. Because of its unusual geology, ecology, fish and wildlife, and cultural and recreational history, the area is now also protected by the Oregon’s Metolius Protection Act. In 2009, the legislature designated the 448 square miles of the Metolius River basin as an Area of Statewide Concern in response to concerns raised by two proposed destination resorts in the basin. The legislation prohibits the development of residences, golf courses, and large resorts within the watershed.
A tiny unincorporated hamlet, Camp Sherman, caters to vacationers and fishermen, with camping sites (21 campgrounds in the watershed area…), small cabins and a store established in 1918 that has not seen much change since the first wheat farmers of Eastern OR came during the summers a century or more ago to escape the heat. Only barbless catch & release fly fishing is allowed these days, the photo of these trout were taken at a fish hatchery adjacent to Wizard Falls on the river.
In 2018 the Deschutes Land Trust acquired a new preserve along the river, focused on protecting what has been home and nourishment to the Northern Paiute, Wasco and other peoples of the High Desert and Cascade Mountain regions, spiritually significant to the tribes. Metolius in the Sahaptin language means “white fish” in reference to a light-colored Chinook Salmon which historically thrived in the river’s cold (48 degrees !) and stable waters. Here is the origin story:
“Tribal elders tell how Black Butte and her husband carried roots, berries, and deer on a journey. During this journey, Black Butte sat to rest, and because the sun was so hot, she began to sweat. While Black Butte rested, her husband, Green Ridge, began to pout. Together their sweat and tears began to form streams. Today Black Butte and Green Ridge’s streams still flow as the headwaters of the Metolius River. Where they flow, you can find the plants, the roots, and the deer that they carried on their journey.”
These days members of the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs still come to the river to harvest the foods. Wildflowers still flourish into September.
In no particular order, elderberry, fire weed, lupines, forget-me-nots, asters, Indian paintbrush, nettles, rose hips. Not sure what the yellow flowers were.
Chipmunks made it paradise for a certain dog, who needed to cool off and/or rest after relentless chases. As did we, without the chases.
It was a bit sparse in the bird department when I was there, hoping to see owls that in the end I only heard. But jays were ubiquitous, some woodpeckers, grasshoppers, moths and butterflies, and I saw wild turkeys on several occasions.
Camouflaged turkey
The landscape is dominated by ponderosa pine forests, and red dust reminds of the geologic origin: when the now extinct Black Butte volcano erupted 1.4 million years ago, lava flows filled the valley to its present day altitude of 3000 ft. Fire danger is tremendous and signs of prior damage easily found.
Except for a few signs of human presence, you could think you have landed in a place where time has stood still.
Why anyone would cut down a small tree for a tent, however, is a mystery to me.
***
It must have been the airplane.
My thoughts went back to 2018, the last time I sat on an airplane (as always, wondering if this would be the last time for me to visit Europe – alas, it was), on my way back from Slovenia, or more precisely Ljubljana, a bustling university town where I had visited one of the most interesting museums of all I’ve seen, the Museum for Contemporary Art Metelkova (MSUM) that I reported on here.
Here’s the connection: the art that I saw, dealing with the trauma experienced by that nation, from the 1940s fascist occupation by Mussolini and then the Germans, to the fight for independence in the 1990s and the partition of the former Yugoslavia, showed an enormous capacity for human resilience. So does the history of the tribal nations who have been killed in wars brought upon them by the colonial settlers, dispossessed of their land in the course of American history, and yet maintaining their connection to their culture and to place. Resilience squared.
And all echoed in the botany that was in front of my very eyes, the resilience to incineration, with new life surrounding the skeletons of fire, with plant life daring to exist in seemingly uninhabitable places.
It was not just the beauty that filled me with joy these last three days. It was the very model of resilience, of toughness in the face of obstacles, even lethal threat, imbuing hope. So, so, so grateful for that reminder.
Here are some Mazurkas resembling at times gurgling water, by an exceedingly resilient composer, Chopin.
