News from Jules | 07.22.2024 | DRT or Bust: Part 3
I am starting to see the river differently.
On my Thursday Sabbath, I met one of my climbing and adventure buddies—without her spry young pup whom we backpacked with recently—at the Meadow Day Use Area for the next six-mile stretch of the Deschutes River Trail (DRT) to Loge Bend, a two-star adventure motel on Century Drive about eight minutes from downtown and 20 minutes from Mt. Bachelor Ski Resort, thus easy access to downhill skiing, nordic skiing, snowshoeing, mountain biking, hiking and more.
We quickly passed the short, rocky outcroppings where our Bend Climbing Club goes to climb sometimes, and started seeing houses along the other side of the river. Not tucked in close together along the river like in town, but spread out on acres with vast lawns and private docks.
Because of private property, the trail quickly turned away from the river and wound up through the Good Dog off-leash dog park and a network of dusty mountain biking trails in the Deschutes National Forest. Soon, the river was off in the distance way behind and below us.
But, it was the same volcanic, dusty soil nourishing the riverbed as the Ponderosa pines alongside the winding trails in the forest as was underneath the foundation of the motel where the trail ended.
How could this land be owned? Nonetheless private for only a select few humans?
The further I went on the DRT, the less this made any sense to me.
Upon arrival at Loge Bend, we determined it was a perfect spot for mid-hike coffee and treats next time, used their porta-potty then turned around and headed back down through the desert forest. We decided to take an adjacent trail back down, which took us to a ridge overlooking the town just a few miles downstream. Off in the distance, we could see most of the seven mountains in the Central Cascade range.
Back at our cars, we chatted about other upcoming adventures. My friend excitedly shared plans for several summit attempts this season. As I listened, I shared her excitement and I wondered: Would I be able to climb any mountains this season?
It was a question I’d kept at the back of my mind throughout my recovery since March and was still too soon to tell even though my hiking progress so far was promising.
It’s been a year since I summited a mountain, so I’ve also questioned whether I still have the interest and motivation. But the sharp pangs of envy at my friend’s plans made it quite clear—there is still some desire there.
The more I knew about her, I could tell that her motivation was a mixture of ambition and awe, which were equally inspiring to me. Perhaps my own reasons for mountaineering had shifted in the past year as well.
See DRT photos from Meadow Day Use Area to Farewell Bend Park on Instagram.
A week later on a quiet Sunday morning, two other friends from our Bend Climbing Club—one also recovering from an ankle injury—and another young pup met me for an upstream loop with a spur connecting Loge Bend to the South Canyon section and on down to Farewell Bend Park. It’s about seven miles, including a few miles along the “wildest” section of the river running through the middle of town that I actually know quite well.
Since I started visiting my friend and mentor when she retired to Bend twelve years ago, she showed me her favorite walks in town, including the three-mile South Canyon loop. We’d hike the loop most years when I visited, whether it was hot in summer or icy in winter. And in the past couple of years, the South Canyon loop has become a regular favorite for trailrunning or walking with one of my close friends who relocated from Portland to Bend in 2022.
She’s the one who showed me the locals-only parking spot just minutes from our respective homes, that I was now sharing with my climbing friends—who’ve lived here longer than me but had not yet discovered it.
“Whoa, this is much easier access than over at the parks,” one commented as we finished gearing up at the cars.
I smiled. One of the perks of getting to know the river so well.
Within about a half-mile from our start, we couldn’t continue directly alongside the river due to private property once again. Instead, we hiked away from the river and up through Mt. Bachelor Village Resort—another community of condominiums and vacation rentals developed around 1978—then along the paved biking and walking Haul Trail paralleling Century Drive until we reached Loge Bend.
This time we ordered iced coffee, tea, and pastries, then relax in the Adirondack chairs on the hotel lawn for a leisurely half-hour break to chat in more detail about summer plans, work, and life. The kinds of conversations and connections that are harder to have in the rock gym or at the crag.
On the way back to the river, I shared some of the history of the area that I’d been learning about recently and we knew so little about.
While I was born and raised in Oregon, all three of us were recent transplants to Bend just like all of my other local friends. We were part of the massive influx of newcomers craving sunshine and access to the wilderness for outdoor recreation—from hiking to resort and backcountry skiing to standup paddleboarding to mountain biking to rock climbing and so much more.
Once we walked back down to the river, skirted the fenced-in private property, and crossed the South Canyon Bridge, we made our way along the rocky cliffs and white-capped rapids of the river. We stopped several times to marvel at the river and comment on how great it felt to be out for a leisurely Sunday morning “nature walk” in contrast to our more typical strenuous outdoor activities like rock climbing, mountain biking or mountaineering.
As we returned to our starting point, a school of kayakers emerged from the river and carried their boats up to the little locals-only parking spots next to our cars. They stood in a circle, stoked to recount their adventure all together without the roar of the river or their helmets in the way.
Once again, it struck me how our relationship with the river is primarily for recreation, property, or energy. It isn’t home, it’s a resource—for use, and misuse.
Even by those of us who love nature.
Two-thirds of the way through this Deschutes River Trail project, I am starting to see the river very differently.
May you look closer this week.
Love,
Jules