Next up we're back on the Columbia River Highway milepost project again, which we left back at Milepost 36 at the Ainsworth intersection off I-84. Or at the unusual Milepost 43 on the east side of Cascade Locks, if you think it counts. This time around we've skipped ahead to Milepost 68, which is located just east of Hood River, near the end of the dead-end (for cars) segment of the old highway and one mile east of the Hood River Loops, where Milepost 67 is supposed to be and currently isn't. I would like to tell you that the rest of the mile east of the Loops is an overlooked scenic treasure, and you shouldn't miss it even though it's not on the way to anywhere at all. But it really isn't, and from the loops to the gate on the road is basically just generic Gorge forest scenery, with no waterfalls or scenic viewpoints or other attractions. I mean, obviously besides the milepost here. Then, shortly after Milepost 68 you get to the west end of another bike/pedestrian-only segment of the old highway, officially known as the "Mark O. Hatfield West Trailhead", named after one of the state's longest-serving 20th century US senators. This car-free stretch continues for another four miles, ending at the other Hatfield trailhead just east of Mosier.
Vintage ODOT maps of the old highway (including maps 3B-15-8 (December 1922), and 6C-15-7 (which is not currently available online)) show another long-vanished state park here, the "Hood River-Mosier Forest Wayside", which began a short distance past milepost 68 and continued east past milepost 70. Map says it was an "Official Park", indicating it was given a high priority for maintenance and visitor facilities and whatnot, but I think it was always just intended to be a stretch of protected scenery.
The obscure little park got a brief mention in State Parks of the Columbia Gorge (1946, p.47-49), a Highway Commission publication about the various and sundry state-owned or managed places between Troutdale and The Dalles. It travels up the Gorge, west to east, and for each state park there's a description by W.A. Langille, state park historian, followed by recommendations by Samuel H. Boardman, longtime state park superintendent.
The Hood River-Mosier Forest Wayside begins at Mile Post 68.22, a mile or so east of Hood River, and ends at Mile Post 70.48, a little over two miles of highway distance. The tracts are described last being in Sections 31, 32, and 33, Township 7 North of Range 11 East, W.M., all in Hood River County, containing 101.50 acres, more or less. These tracts are designated in the deeds as being "Indian Deed Inherited Lands", conveyed to the State of Oregon by noncompetent "Cascade" Indians who were of Hood River origin. Their names and the respective acreages are: Katie Coon, heir of Charles Coon and Jack Coon, 36.83 acres; Thomas Jim, a single man, 28.60 acres; Martha Aleck, widow of Joe Aleck, 15.07 acres; William Johnson and Isabel Johnson, his wife, Frank Johnson and Celia Johnson, his wife and Edward Johnson and Esther Johnson, his wife, 21.00 acres. All were respected citizens of this community. In his younger days Jack Coon was a noted bear hunter. For several years Joe Aleck, Martha's husband, carried the White Salmon mail and ferried passengers across the Columbia in an open, not too seaworthy skiff. He had three sons all of whom met death in river accidents. At the time of her death in 1939, Martha Aleck was the oldest member of the Hood River Indians, erroneously reputed to be a hundred years old. She was a small child, possibly two years of age, at the time of the Indian troubles at the Cascades in 1856. Her father was warned by a friendly Klickitat Indian that the Yakimas planned to attack the settlement the next day. To avoid being involved in the conflict he put Martha, her mother, and their meager possessions into his canoe and left for Hood River at midnight before the trouble started. This would fix Martha's age at eighty five, more or less, when she died.Boardman's recommendations were quite simple, as they tended to be for scenic corridor-type parks:
The east end of this wayside forest is approximately a half mile from the Hood River-Wasco County line, and marks what is practically the east limit of the western Oregon Douglas fir forest area along the Columbia River Highway. Within the length of the wayside forest there are two small, privately owned, triangular tracts that corner on the highway right of way and interrupt its state owned continuity. Although the acreage is not great, their sylvan value is high, especially in this locality, which punctuates the waning edge of the fir forest that borders the highway on its march from the ocean to the treeless region beyond.
The only improvements in this wayside were fire breaks fire hazard reduction and a lineal survey, by CCC forces in 1934.
The waysides should always be kept in their natural state. Connecting forties should be acquired.
The bit explaining how the state got the land is not great, to put it mildly. At one point federal policy was to divide reservations up into individual allotments, as a way to sort of pressure people to adopt western ways and become respectable yeoman farmers just like their caucasian neighbors. And if they didn't do that to your satisfaction, on your preferred timetable, it was apparently rather easy to have them declared "incompetent", which caused their land to be forfeited to the state or to local governments, and then often sold off to the highest bidder. And this is how various reservations were progressively whittled away to nothing, all the while blaming the victims for somehow lacking personal responsibility. The history blurb does not elaborate on exactly when various people were kicked off of their land, whether it was done specifically for the highway and the state park or if it had happened years earlier.
The state doesn't own the land now. When present-day Interstate 84 opened along the river around 1953-54, the state abandoned this stretch of the state highway and let Hood River and Wasco counties take over their parts of the road, and the rules at the time said the land couldn't be a state park anymore if it no longer bordered a state highway, so they handed it off to the US Forest Service, which still owns the area. And it's safe to say that the current administration (as of 2026) absolutely will not entertain the notion of returning any land back to heirs, or tribes, or anyone, no matter how egregiously they were swindled out of it decades ago.
On another note: The state has, so far, not invested in recreating HCRH mileposts along the bike/pedestrian-only sections, so after milepost 68 there's another gap until we pick back up at number 73 outside of Mosier. This may be just as well given the next number in the sequence, so there is no, um, Milepost 69 around here just begging to be stolen constantly.
This seems like a minor nuisance, and it is, but think of all the other downstream problems that just don't occur because it's not here. First, all college campuses with fraternities are several hours' drive from here, and any would-be thieves would naturally be driving blackout drunk the whole way, both directions, so it prevents that. Then, if they make it as far as Milestone 69, a group of bros drunkenly trying to break it off at the base are likely to take some injuries in the process, given that it would be a fairly large hunk of reinforced concrete, so it not existing prevents that problem too. As well as any future injuries it would otherwise cause at subsequent frat parties, or while being endlessly stolen and stolen back and re-stolen all the way down fraternity row and back. Eventually it will end up forgotten in someone's garage, and it will be embarrassing for everyone when their kids find it, and there might be further hypothetical injuries while quickly hauling it to the dump or the nearest Goodwill.
Or suppose that one of the original thieves, now a successful real estate developer, often blames his middle-aged back problems on that fateful heist, and after a few drinks likes to refer to it as "an old 69 injury". He overuses this joke because it's the only halfway-clever one he's ever thought of. Lately, though, he's noticed it doesn't get the same laughs it did back in the 90s, especially in professional settings, but he has no idea why. Sooner or later he'll be perma-cancelled over it after using it in front of the wrong audience and video of the event hits social media.
So by simply not replacing this particular milestone, the state prevents an entire chain of cringey events. Although the sort of person who would get into this hypothetical mess in the first place will probably just get himself perma-cancelled over something else equally cringey instead.
