Pup Creek Falls

Next up, here are some recent (for once) photos from Pup Creek Falls and the Clackamas River Trail #715, about 16 miles east of Estacada. I had never been here before, or really anywhere along the Clackamas past Estacada. I'd heard there were trails and waterfalls in the area -- there's an entire website devoted just to waterfalls in the Clackamas watershed, with pages about Pup Creek Falls & the trail -- but I'd never gotten around to checking it out myself. But I wanted to get outside, and -- the key part -- do it safely during the ongoing pandemic, and the Columbia Gorge is still largely closed to the public, so I figured it was it was a good time for a visit.

If you squint at the first photo in the photoset, you can see a pair of tiny people just atop the lowest tier of the falls, for scale. One of them later made it up to the upper bench where the upper tier hits the rock face and flexed his biceps for anyone watching, while his lady friend stayed put and tried out a couple of yoga poses right at the edge of the cliff; I didn't get a photo of that part because I was too busy leaving so I wouldn't have to watch, just in case that played out the way I thought it might. Anyway, the Pup Creek Falls page at Waterfalls Northwest compares it to Winter Falls at Silver Falls State Park and has it as 237 feet high. So this is often said to be the tallest waterfall along the Clackamas River, though the Clackamas River Waterfalls site says Whale Creek Falls is taller at 261 feet. I'm just going to take his word for it, since getting to Whale Creek Falls is said to be highly technical and dangerous, per two threads at Oregon Hikers, while pages at Canyoneering Northwest and Ropewiki indicate it's also really hard if you start at the top (via rugged Forest Service roads) and rappel down and head downstream from there. So I think it's fair to say Pup Creek is the tallest waterfall in the area accessible to mere mortals like me.

Anyway, our trail runs for 8 miles along the south bank of the river between the Fish Creek and Indian Henry campgrounds. Pup Creek Falls is nearly halfway between the two trailheads and up an easy 0.2 mile side trail, so that an out-and-back trip from the Fish Creek trailhead (which is what I did) comes to 7.8 miles. The Oregon Hikers page linked above rates it as "moderate", I think because of both the total distance and the fact that the trail isn't flat. You're at river level at a few points along the trail, and at others you're a few hundred feet above the river, and fun part is that the grades are moderate enough that you don't always realize you're going from one to the other. You come around a corner and the river is right there next to you, and you could swear that just 5-10 minutes ago you just looking straight down at it from a sheer cliff. On the outbound (and upstream) leg of the hike I figured that it was partly due to the river dropping in elevation, since you'll see a lot of rapids on the river over the course of the hike. But it was like that on the way back too, so I concluded it was either weird forest magic, or (more likely) good trail design.

Actually I'm positive it's the trail design. A June 27th 1982 Oregonian article "A Treasure of a Trail" described the then-new trail, which had opened the previous spring, and interviewed one of the designers. Seems the design goals were to stay low enough that the trail could be open 95% of the year, outside of major winter storms, and provide river access for fishing, while hitting as many scenic highlights as they could squeeze in along the way, and also avoiding any grades they thought would be too steep. This involved several years of repeatedly hiking the 8 mile stretch, trying out different alternatives until they had a route they were happy with. The trail was their baby, they were proud of it, and wanted the world (or at least the greater Portland metro area) to come check it out. I dunno, I always love to see stuff like this. Incidentally, the US Forest Service job title for someone who does this is "recreation technician"; the Glassdoor reviews seem generally positive: Great location, great benefits, usually great coworkers, upper management not so much, and more cleaning toilets than they had expected. Some occasional fighting of forest fires.

All of that said, I'm currently a bit out of shape due to all the sheltering in place because of the stupid coronavirus. So the last 1.5 miles or so of the return trip were... not my favorite, and I was sore for a couple of days afterward, and happy that I hadn't tried doing the whole trail as a ~16 mile out-and-back. My thoughts inevitably turned to ways of shaving off part or all of the return trip. The 1982 article suggests a car shuttle, which works great if you're a party of at least two people, which I typically am not. The Oregon Hikers page also suggests taking a bike with you -- I imagine one of those folding travel bikes -- and riding back to the Fish Creek trailhead on OR 224. Which is downhill the whole way, but 224 is a moderately busy state highway with the occasional semi or log truck, so I don't know how fun or relaxing that would actually be.

So then I wondered about the river. The lower Clackamas river is famous as a place to bring an inner tube and have a lazy float down the river for a few hours, and it's infamous as a place to do this while polishing off a six pack or a couple of edibles and occasionally drowning. Turns out the upper Clackamas is a whole other story, as I should have guessed from all the whitewater and several kayakers I noticed along the way. Pages at American Whitewater, Whitewater Guidebook, & Oregon Kayaking explain that there are multiple Class III ("Intermediate") rapids along this stretch of the river, and overall it's supposed to be really fun if you know what you're doing, which I unfortunately don't. Show up with an inner tube and no prior experience, with or without a six pack, and your mileage is going to vary. I didn't see any specific discussion about anyone doing the trail + river combo here; I imagine you'd need a packraft or maybe a foldable kayak or something for this, small and light enough for the hiking leg, but sturdy enough for the the downriver part. A Packrafting.org forum thread speculated that the combo trip would be doable here, but I didn't come across anyone saying they'd actually done it. One annoying detail -- if you're mostly interested in the water half of the trip -- is that the stretch of river that's said to be the best part, whitewaterwise, is just downstream of the Fish Creek trailhead. Annoying because there's no connector trail along that stretch of river, so if you can't bear to skip that section, I guess you'd have to walk along the highway shoulder or something.

Now, if there was a trail along the lower Clackamas river (which there isn't, as far as I know), you could actually use a Portland city bus for your return leg, believe it or not. TriMet's bus 31 goes as far as Estacada, and as of last year even runs on weekends, so you could potentially do the whole trip without getting in a car. Some people tubing the river do exactly this for the upstream part of the trip, which isn't just convenient, it also keeps a few DUI drivers off the road, if they've cracked open a few cold ones during the float back. So it's a shame that TriMet's longest bus line is juuust not quite long enough to give you a lift to either of the Clackamas River Trail trailheads.

You might be wondering why TriMet goes to Estacada in the first place, given that it's a conservative small town way out past the edge of suburbia. There may be just enough commuters who rely on the bus now that they can't discontinue it, but how did it get started? The surprising answer is that it goes all the way back to the founding of the town in the early 1900s. The TL;DR version goes something like this: Streetcar company needs electricity & can't get it; builds dams along Clackamas River. Needs transporation for building dams; extends rail lines out to the dams. Needs to pay for those rail lines; builds a park behind one of the dams, invites tourists to visit by streetcar. A few towns grow up in the area including Estacada, the one town that has a nice modern hotel. Eventually, streetcar lines become bus lines, and then the bus company becomes TriMet, and here we are. Meanwhile the electricity part of the business evolves into today's PGE, the local electric company. I'm not sure whether there's been uninterrupted transit service to Estacada since the first interurban in 1906, and I'm not sure where one would check to figure that out. But at the very least, today's bus 31 has an absurdly long family tree, whatever the intermediate branches look like.

So I had to wonder whether there was ever a time -- even briefly -- when you could've hopped on a streetcar in Portland and ridden all the way to Pup Creek Falls. And... it's hard to say. The old rail line carried passengers to the park at Cazadero, upriver from Estacada, and old rail maps show at least two more passenger stops past that, one at something called "Clackamas Lodge" that I can't find much info about, and ending at the headworks for another of the hydro projects along the river, still a bit short of the Fish Creek area. Streetcars ended there, but the rail line itself continued on after that, carrying cargo & employees for the Oak Grove hydro project even further upriver, and I saw at least one link (which I can't find now) indicating that seemed to indicate passenger service had extended further east for a while, though it's possible they confused rail service with fare-paying passenger service. An old circa-1930 photo shows a rail line next to the tiny burg of Three Lynx, which even now is still a PGE company town, & is just downstream (and across the river) from the present-day Indian Henry campground. Meanwhile an Oregon Encyclopedia article indicates the old rail line was turned into present-day highway 224 sometime in the 1920s, which conflicts with the date on the photo, so who knows. So regarding my original question, I think the answer is 'no' in general, but 'maybe' for a while in the 1920s or 1930s if you had a friend at the railroad/electric company, and you were rugged and outdoorsy enough to get across the river without a bridge and then to the falls without a trail, since that was 50 years before today's trail came into being. Maybe there's a parallel timeline out there that's just like ours, except that the trail was built as a Depression-era CCC project, with cool 1930s CCC stonework but otherwise identical to 'our' trail, and they extended the interurban so you could ride out that far for a while, until it eventually faded away in the late 1940s. Or a timeline where the entire hydro project never happened, somehow, and the whole area has been a roadless protected wilderness since 1964.

Anyway, to sum up: Nice hike, interesting area I wasn't familiar with, a bit of fun local history, and it's been two weeks so I probably didn't catch the 'rona while passing people on the trail. Incidentally, trail etiquette has changed in the COVID-19 era. Instead of the cheerful hello and petting friendly dogs when passing people, masks go on the moment you see someone coming the other way, and you sort of mumble a "thank you" while facing sorta-away from each other. Overall it's weird and not something I want to keep post-pandemic, but I do really like the the mutual "thank you" part, like it's a little acknowledgement that we're all observing a shared social contract. But then, I haven't been around other human beings in person a lot over the last six months, so maybe I'm reading way too much into that. Dunno. Mostly I just want the pandemic to be over, and I'll work out whether August 2020 me was overreacting a while after that.

Clackamas River Railroad Bridge

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Some time ago, I did a series on bridges along the Clackamas River (or at least the ones near the Portland area). In a post about the ugly, utilitarian I-205 bridge near High Rocks, I had a little addendum about the railroad bridge behind it:

As an added bonus, right behind the freeway bridge is a railroad bridge that now belongs to Union Pacific, although it apparently still has "Southern Pacific" written on it in large letters. It isn't really possible to take a better photo of the railroad bridge without a.) shooting from the freeway bridge (hopefully while someone else is driving) b.) trespassing on the grounds of someone's fancy riverfront home, or c.) riding an inner tube down the river with a camera and hoping it doesn't get wet. A site covering Clackamas River Bridges appears to have chosen option a., so you can check those out if you're curious. But as far as the bridge project goes, I'm going to consider the railroad bridge "done" without resorting to any of the above options, since it does already appear, a little, in the photos here.

I'm still not really sure how to get unobscured photos of the railroad bridge; in the photo above, you can just make out one of the bridge piers behind the I-205 bridge, and you just sort of have to imagine the rest somehow. Admittedly I haven't actually gone back to look for a better angle, so in this case it really is for lack of trying. Still, the fact that I just tacked this onto the end of another bridge post sort of felt like cheating, and I'd really hate to anger the internet police, so I never quite took it off my todo list. I can't show it to you very well, but at least I can try to tell you about it, and if I manage to get better photos sometime later I can always edit this post and add them.

There's a Structurae page about this bridge, and that page has a photo of the bridge from the upstream side, apparently taken while peering over someone's barbed wire fence. It's just a 1950s metal girder bridge, nothing terribly interesting about it other than the fading "Southern Pacific" sign. A railfan page about Amtrak's Coast Starlight line has a similar photo, this time with an Amtrak train on it. Another site has a couple of forum threads speculating about the history of rail bridges on the Clackamas River, and looking for photos of the current bridge's predecessor, which crossed further downstream near the 82nd Drive Bridge.

It turns out there have been railroad bridges here for a very long time, by Oregon standards. An item in the November 20th, 1869 Oregonian mentions that the first bridge has come to a bad end:

The loss of the bridge over Clackamas river, which was just approaching completion, is quite a serious blow to the progress of the railroad, but it will not prove disastrous. It will necessitate still more energy and outlay in order to build the first section of road within the proposed time; but Mr. Holladay is not a man to be checked by such a misfortune. The energy which has for several weeks been so manifest in the construction of the road will be redoubled, and every obstacle will be overcome.

A September 4th, 1873 article discussed the progress on the replacement bridge:

Months ago the contract was let for the construction of a bridge over the Clackamas at a point just below where the railroad bridge spans the stream. Two years ago the old bridge was swept away during a freshet. Early last spring the county authorities determined to build a new bridge near where the old bridge stood. The contract was let, and work soon after began. Since then a force of men have been constantly employed in erecting the new structure. The length of the bridge between the abutments is 213 feet. With the addition of the aprons at each end, the entire length of the bridge, when finished, will be about 300 feet. The piers are constructed of wood, crib-shaped, and filled with stone. Both of the abutments have been completed, and a portion of the "stringers" laid from pier to pier. It is estimated that the heaviest portion of the work is finished. A number of carpenters are pushing forward with the work and the probabilities are that the entire structure will be completed by the middle of October.

A brief note in the October 3rd, 1876 Oregonian merely says "Work on the new railroad bridge across the Clackamas is progressing rapidly." It feels like we aren't getting the full story here. In the 1873 item, it's not clear if they're building a new rail bridge at a slightly different location, or building a non-rail bridge next to the rail bridge, and the non-rail bridge was lost to a separate flood in 1871 but not reported on at the time. And these items about the imminent completion of a bridge are years apart.

An article on August 2nd, 1955 announced the imminent completion of the current bridge, as part of a track realignment project by the Southern Pacific railroad. It seems the train was being rerouted eastward to avoid tight curves that forced trains to pass through the area slowly. The new bridge would be able to handle heavier loads and rolling stock. The article gives a brief history at the end:

The new bridge is the fourth railroad span across the Clackamas river in that area. The first one was built in 1869 when the "East Side" company, headed by Ben Holladay, was rushing construction on the Oregon Central south of Portland. Second bridge, a Howe truss structure was constructed in 1876, and the third in 1902.

If that's true, the 1873 item may concern a predecessor of the 82nd Drive bridge instead. I can't find any record in the newspaper database about a 1902 replacement bridge, though, so it's also possible they had some dates wrong.

82nd Drive Bridge, Clackamas River

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The ongoing bridge project takes us down Clackamas way again, this time to the old 82nd Drive Bridge, also known as the Park Place bridge or the South Washington St. Bridge, depending on who you ask. Whatever you call it, it's old and small and is now reserved for pedestrians and bikes only. I mentioned this bridge briefly in an earlier post, back when it was still closed due to arson with no ETA on when (if ever) it might reopen. I used that as an excuse to declare "Mission Accomplished" for the Clackamas River, but as you might've noticed I keep declaring "Mission Accomplished" on this project and it never seems to help. So here we are.



As always, on the Clackamas River, the obligatory "not dying" angle means not jumping from the bridge into the river, getting hypothermia, and being swept away by the current, never to be seen again. This actually happens fairly often, despite all the warning signs, public service announcements, and even lifeguards posted in popular swimming areas during the summer. So you end up with situations like the one you see here, where the bridge was retrofitted with tall, maximum-security-style chain link fences to hopefully make it impossible for anyone to ever jump off the thing. And signs that sternly tell you it's prohibited to jump, since explaining that it's a bad idea didn't seem to help.



Not a huge amount of info about this unremarkable little bridge out there on the 'tubes. The city of Gladstone's history page indicates there've been a number of bridges at this location, dating all the way back to the 1840's, and an Indian-operated ferry before that. The Structurae page linked to up above just mentions it was built in 1921 and is 67 meters long. Here's a map indicating the bridge is officially part of the I-205 bike path, since there's no bike access to the actual I-205 bridge over the river just upstream from here. And that's about it, I'm afraid.



I'm certainly not going to argue that the arson fire and subsequent extended closure was a good thing, but at least this way there's a little stuff out there on the intertubes about the bridge. Otherwise I'm not sure there'd be much of anything at all out there. So here's a sampling of fire & repair related items.

Clackamas Review: "Fire severs link between OC, Gladstone" and (over two years later) "The bridge is back".

East County News: "Bridge repair plans advance... slowly"

GoLiNiel: "SE Portland bridges you can’t yet use" followed by "82nd Drive Bike/Pedistrian bridge is finally open"

PR from Clackamas County: "Thanksgiving Day: Troubled bridge over Clackamas waters to reopen!", with a brief update in the next month's newsletter. It might seem kind of weird that the county "water environment services" (i.e. sewer) department is behind the repair, but apparently they own the bridge, and technically its primary function is to carry an, uh, "water environment service" pipe across the river, and all this bike/ped stuff is just a nice fringe benefit. Technically speaking. Although maybe it's better, and less gross, to not think about all that "water environment" flowing just beneath your feet as you walk the bridge.

They cycling community was pretty stoked about the bridge finally reopening, as you might imagine. BTA Blog: "Alice Award Nominee: 82nd Ave Bridge Team"

BikePortland: "Clackamas River bike/ped bridge re-opens tomorrow after two year closure"

The Clackamas County Arts Alliance's project page mentions there's supposed to be some new public art at the bridge some time in May. Wasn't there yet when I visited a few weeks ago, at least not that I could see. The page isn't very specific about the art, so maybe it was there and I didn't realize it. That's been known to happen on occasion. It does mention they're putting together some kind of documentary about the bridge, presumably coming soon to a cable access channel near you.

OregonLive: "Gladstone: Walkers, cyclists, dogs enjoy reopening of pedestrian bridge"



Also, a couple of random tangents you might enjoy:

Cool photos of an entirely different Park Place Bridge

An interesting blog post that mentions biking through here (which is why I ran across it), although it's mostly about filmmaking.

I-205 Bridge @ High Rocks, Clackamas River

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A few photos of the seemingly-unnamed bridge that carries I-205 over the Clackamas River, just upstream of notorious High Rocks Park (which is where I took these from).

I don't have much to say about the bridge itself. It's your basic utilitarian concrete bridge. If you drive over it on I-205, you barely notice you're on a bridge, and you don't get a clear view of the river. It's basically a smaller and more obscure cousin to the Abernethy, Boone, North Portland Harbor, and I-84 Sandy River bridges. Other than the North Portland Harbor bridge (which I haven't quite posted about yet), they offer no pedestrian facilities. I'm told it's technically legal to walk across on the shoulder, so I could technically include them in the ongoing bridge-walking project. But I have to say that's highly unlikely. My m.o. here is to take mundane stuff and try to make it sound exciting and dangerous, hopefully in a semi-entertaining way. When it comes to actual danger, well, I tend to avoid that. I'm not saying that as an ironclad rule, exactly; it's just that I think I'd need a better reason than this grey concrete bridge here.

It's a shame the bridge isn't very attractive, given the setting.

If you've read any of the previous posts here mentioning the Clackamas River, you're probably sick and tired of me flogging the "drowning hazard" angle. So I'm not really inclined to revisit it in depth, but I will mention that High Rocks is #1 on the Mercury's list of dangerous swimmin' holes. And here are two examples of what they're talking about.

Willamette Week mentions the park in an article about fun summer activities, although it describes the river danger as 7 out of 10, and danger from fellow river rats as 9.5 out of 10. Elsewhere, Oregon150 has a nice, brief essay about "Rafting the Clackamas River".

It will come as no surprise to you, o Gentle Reader(s), that while I was here I didn't avail myself of the opportunity to slam down a tallboy of Old English 800 and then dive off the eponymous High Rocks into the river. Besides the whole danger thing, I'm slightly too old to join in; plus it's not really my subculture, and I doubt the natives would accept me; plus -- regarding the whole "impressing girls" angle -- I kind of suspect my wife wouldn't be too keen on me diving drunkenly into a freezing river. Plus I don't really fancy Old E too much, and chugging a good beer shortly before drowning would be a waste of good beer. Also, when I took these photos I'd stopped by briefly in the morning before work, and I had to scurry off home to get to an Important Meeting, so all other factors aside, it simply wasn't practical.

So you're probably starting to wonder, if you're still reading, exactly what it was that I did here. Well, I walked down the narrow path to the park, which squeezes between businesses on either side. Took a brief look around, noted that there weren't a lot of people there -- it being a weekday morning before school was out -- and none of them looked like the roving packs of shiftless, predatory youths that the local media always goes on about. So I took a few photos and headed out before any youths showed up, and trundled off to the office. I think it's fair to say that the stuff I didn't do is vastly more interesting, even if none of it actually happened.

If I sound a little sour, I should probably mention I'm at home with a cold right now, and I've got nothing better to do than go through my Drafts folder and try to polish off a few of my unfinished posts.

In any case, The Narrative Image has a few nice photos of the area, much more intriguing than my efforts here. Although on the other hand, what you see here is the product of a brief ~5 minute visit. That probably ought to count for something...

And off on a tangent: Here's an entirely different High Rocks Park, in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, where the rocks are substantially higher than ours. No connection to the present story, but I ran across them while searching and thought they were worth passing along. So enjoy.

As an added bonus, right behind the freeway bridge is a railroad bridge that now belongs to Union Pacific, although it apparently still has "Southern Pacific" written on it in large letters. It isn't really possible to take a better photo of the railroad bridge without a.) shooting from the freeway bridge (hopefully while someone else is driving) b.) trespassing on the grounds of someone's fancy riverfront home, or c.) riding an inner tube down the river with a camera and hoping it doesn't get wet. A site covering Clackamas River Bridges appears to have chosen option a., so you can check those out if you're curious. But as far as the bridge project goes, I'm going to consider the railroad bridge "done" without resorting to any of the above options, since it does already appear, a little, in the photos here.

Portland Avenue Bridge

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A few photos of the long-abandoned Portland Avenue Bridge, which crosses the Clackamas River down in Gladstone. Built in 1893 or so, the bridge was once part of a rail line between Portland and Oregon City, which was abandoned in 1968 and subsequently removed. Seems the line was abandoned in part due to the deteriorating condition of the bridge, and since then the bridge has just sat there, unmaintained and fenced off, for over four decades now. So I can only imagine what sort of shape it's in these days. You might need a tetanus shot just from looking at it.

Updated: This bridge was severely damaged by a winter storm in March 2014, and was demolished shortly afterward. So there's no longer anything to see at this spot, and this post is now sort of a historical artifact. Feel free to still visit cosmopolitan downtown Gladstone if you like, though.

I realize that, as part of this ongoing bridge series, really I'm supposed to try to walk across these things if at all possible. But I wasn't tempted this time, not even a little, not even for a moment. There was, technically, a hole in the fence, and technically I suppose I could've ventured out onto it, and I suppose people actually do that from time to time. I think mostly to jump in the river, not to cross it. The Clackamas River looks cool and clean and refreshing on a hot day, and people just can't resist jumping in. That description is accurate, if by "cool" you mean "slightly above freezing", and by "refreshing" you mean "except when fatal". Follow the news any given summer, and take one look at the bridge, and the "not dying" angle for this bridge should be immediately obvious.

I've only found two current photo links to share, and they're actually both the same photo. I also ran across one historical photo from atop the bridge, looking north along Portland Avenue.

Portland Avenue, which dead-ends at the bridge, is apparently Gladstone's historic main street. The city of Gladstone recently (2008) put together a plan to revitalize the Portland Ave. corridor, and the plan envisions restoring the bridge for pedestrians and bikes, similar to the 82nd Drive bridge further upstream. The document notes that the bridge is still railroad-owned, even though there haven't been tracks on either side in decades, and the railroad's opposed to anyone doing anything with the bridge. Don't ask me why. You'd think they'd go, "Hey, that's a nice plan, we'll sell you the bridge for a dollar, as is", just to unload the potential liabilities on someone else. But apparently that's not how they see things. Beats me.

I'd never figured Gladstone as a very interesting place -- I guess I'd assumed that McLoughlin was its main street, and the whole town was basically just car lots and fast food outlets. The city and the local historical society would like us to know that, in fact, they have a long and somewhat unusual history, featuring a long-running Chautauqua Festival (which the streetcar was apparently built in part to serve), traveling evangelists, vaudeville, and similar thrills of a bygone era. Said bygone era seems to have ended around 1929, and if anything notable has occurred since then, the city and the historical society are keeping it to themselves. More photos from around Gladstone here and here.

The streetcar line, as it turns out, is the same one that once served Elk Rock Island and its somewhat, um, earthier delights. So you could tell everyone you were catching the streetcar down to Gladstone for a nice uplifting day of educational lectures and Sousa marches, but hop off at Elk Rock Island instead for some drinkin' and dancin' and carryin' on. At least, that's probably what I would've done.

More streetcar stuff at Cafe Unknown and Tin Zeroes -- the Tin Zeroes page refers to a different defunct streetcar line, I think, but it's an interesting story anyway. If you're into this sort of thing, I mean, and I realize you probably aren't, even if you read this humble, geeky, all-too-pedantic blog regularly. In which case I'll probably have another batch of flower photos soon, if you prefer those. And maybe some pics of the cat too, if I can get him to hold still, the little bastard...

John McLoughlin Bridge, Clackamas River

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My semi-ongoing bridge-wandering project took me down to Oregon City the other day to check out the pretty, but sadly run down, Oregon City Bridge. On my way back, I thought I'd stop briefly and check out a second bridge nearby. This is the Dr. John McLoughlin Memorial Bridge, which carries Highway 99E over the Clackamas River.

I didn't really have high hopes for it, and I almost didn't stop. I vaguely knew there was a bridge here, but it's a busy street and not a very big river, and there's no big "oh, cool" moment while driving over it, if it registers at all. It didn't really sound like it would be very interesting, but I was in the neighborhood (for once), so I figured what the heck, I'd just stop for a few minutes and take a quick peek.

Turns out the bridge is rather nice, actually. The McLoughlin bridge dates back to 1933, and sports some nice Art Deco touches and has a light, open and airy feel to it. There's no bike lane, but the sidewalk seems wider than nearly all other bridges in town, and there's a guardrail (plus the structure of the bridge itself) between you and vehicle traffic. There's even an attractive view of the Clackamas River. It's really a very cool river. If, like many Portlanders, you turn up your nose at it because of the word "Clackamas" in the name, you're really missing out.

So it's kind of too bad it's not somewhere where it'd be more useful to me. I'm very rarely down in Oregon City, and I don't think I've ever actually stopped in Gladstone even once for any purpose, so walking between the two, just not a very common occurrence.

You might've noticed I didn't bother with the "not dying" bit in the title. The bridge itself is pretty decent, and the "not dying" theme just sort of doesn't work. Quite honestly, if you're walking or biking along Highway 99E, the bridge is probably the safest spot for miles around. On either side, it's wall-to-wall mini-malls, no bike lanes, narrow sidewalks with lots of curb cuts, people tend to be driving large trucks and SUVs, and they don't expect you to be there. So just stay on the freakin' bridge, and you'll be fine, probably.

The Structurae page about the bridge has more photos, including a cool award plaque for being named "Most Beautiful Steel Bridge, Class C" in 1933 by something called the American Institute of Steel Construction, which still exists -- although it looks like the prize stuff is now handled by a related organization called the National Steel Bridge Alliance. Their online list of awards only dates back to 1996, unfortunately, but I do see that the St. Johns Bridge renovation project won a prize in 2007. Strictly speaking, the McLoughlin bridge received an "award of merit", which seems to be one tier down from a "prize" in steel bridge parlance. But still. An award's an award.

Here's a 1933 color photo of the bridge when it was new. Looks pretty much the same, doesn't it? Wikimedia has a photo of the bridge from a different angle than mine, and you can see the 3 arch structure a bit better there.

There's also a confusing mention of the bridge in Best Places Portland:

More interesting [than the Interstate Bridge] is the OREGON CITY BRIDGE (1922). The only Portland-area span designed by Conde McCullough, this 745-foot arch bridge features fluted Art Deco main piers and hammered inset panels. Just north, McCullough's McLoughlin Bridge has been rated the most beautiful steel bridge of its kind in the U.S.

So first we learn that the Oregon City Bridge is the only McCullough bridge in town, and in the very next sentence we're told the McLoughlin bridge is his too. Go figure.

Other than that, there really isn't too much to say about the bridge. It has a cameo in a gory, unsolved 1940s murder case, in which part of the body was found near the bridge. Seriously, I'm not kidding about the gory part.

So does this mean I'm expanding the bridge-moseying project beyond Willamette River bridges? Well, no, or mostly no. I keep talking about the two Columbia River bridges, and I'll probably end up doing those at some point, eventually. And now that I stare at the map a little, it turns out there really aren't very many bridges over the Clackamas River. There's this one, obviously. There's a rail bridge and a bridge for I-205 further upstream that I think we can file under "not safe for pedestrians". There's also an old bridge around 82nd Drive near the High Rocks area that's supposed to be for bikes and pedestrians, but I understand it's been closed since 2006 due to a fire and subsequent insurance litigation. There are more bridges further upstream, around Carver, Barton Park, Estacada, and beyond, but I'm ok with filing those as "outside the Portland area". As in, maybe, if I'm in the area anyway, and it seems "interesting", and I'm in the mood for it, but it's a very low priority. In other words, I think this may be the only Clackamas River bridge that's within any reasonable project scope. So I'm going to go ahead and declare Mission Accomplished on river #2. Hooray, or whatever.

McIver State Park foray

I usually start these out by saying "today's adventure takes us to...", but I probably shouldn't this time. I've gotten the distinct impression that basically everyone in town except me goes to McIver State Park all the time, and has done so for years. Ok, I might be exaggerating a little, and just everyone on the eastside has been going there for years. Here's a map -- the park is the V-shaped green bit just west of Estacada:

So apologies in advance if I'm going on about your home away from home here. I grew up in Aloha, and we didn't head out to Estacada all that often. Basically never, in fact. I vaguely knew there was this large green blob on the map next to the Clackamas River, but I'd never been there and didn't know anything about the place.

Ok, that's not strictly true, I did know the park had hosted the Vortex I hippie festival, I mean, "Biodegradable Festival of Life", back in 1970. Which I know because this city's thick with nostalgic boomer types who can't seem to STFU about the 60's, just like the way their parents go on and on about World War II every chance they get. I swear, if I'm 50 years old and you ever hear me waxing nostalgic about the early 90's, insisting they were the Golden Age of music and culture or whatever, you can just go ahead and slap me silly.

Of course there's a flip side to all of that. The only thing more tedious than people waxing nostalgic about the 60's are those prim bow-tie-wearing cultural-conservative twits on FoxNews whining about how the 60's ruined everything and must be "undone" somehow, at all costs. So don't get me wrong, I'm certainly not one of those people. It's just that poking fun at hippies is fun, easy, and mostly harmless. They probably won't even notice, much less care.

I think knowing about that festival colored my expectations of the park. I really didn't expect it to be scenic at all, I just figured it'd be a large open space where a few hundred thousand stupid hippies could squat in the mud and trip out to an endless procession of cheesy jam bands. I wouldn't have guessed there'd be high cliffs overlooking the Clackamas River. That doesn't seem very hippie-friendly if you ask me. Possibly that was the whole point. As the oldtimers love to remind us, the festival was organized by the state's Republican governor to lure the city's disaffected war-protesting youngsters away and keep 'em "sedated" while the American Legion convention was in town. If a few hippies decided gravity was a bummer, man, and tried to fly away off the cliffs, hey, even better. Oddly the festival seems to have gone off without any reported fatal incidents. Although it's entirely possible some random hippie just wandered off and disappeared and hasn't been missed by anyone for nearly 40 years. It wouldn't surprise me.

I've never been into the whole psychedelic thing, but I did take a couple of cool/weird infrared photos at the park. I think they're probably groovy enough for our present purposes.

A couple of links about Vortex I from out on the interwebs, before we move on:

• "Vortex I or why there was no Vortex II", from someone who was there.
  
• And a brief reminiscence by someone who lived nearby. Her reaction is mostly "ugh".
• The PSU Vanguard's book review of ""The Far Out Story of Vortex 1", a recent book about the festival.
• A recent post on the book's author's MySpace page noting that there's also a Vortex I documentary, and it's showing at the Clinton St. Theater this very evening (9/20/07). I don't believe in fate, but that's a rather amusing coincidence. Although I don't actually plan on attending.

So enough about hippies, dammit. At one overlook above the river there's a plaque honoring Milo McIver, once chairman of the state highway commission, the predecessor of today's ODOT. The plaque was executed by Avard Fairbanks, the same sculptor who did the Campbell Memorial plaque at Portland Firefighters' Park.

As fate would have it (if I believed in fate, that is), I was just down at Powell's Technical a couple of hours ago, and right there in the store's free bin was a book with Mr. McIver's name on it. I figured it was appropriate so I grabbed it, even though 90% of it consists of boring trigonometric tables. If that strikes your fancy, or you simply need to build yourself a standard highway spiral, ODOT has the current 2003 version of the book (or at least part of the book) here [PDF].

Heading up the state highway commission obviously commanded a great deal more honor and respect than it does now. Besides McIver, you might also recognize the name Glenn L. Jackson, as the I-205 bridge in east Portland is named in his honor.

So about the park itself. There's an upper area with the cliffs, a large picnic area, and such, and there's a lower part down by the river. There are actually two ways down to the river but I only checked out one of them; if you haven't noticed yet, this is not really a comprehensive post about the park's amenities. I didn't play any disc golf, or camp, or fish, or look for bats, or go horseback riding, or float down the Clackamas River on an inner tube, carrying a six-pack. Although I saw a few people doing that and it looked like fun. Fashionable Portlanders sneer at the practice, figuring that it's something trailer-trash people out in Clackamas do, so therefore it's bad and couldn't possibly be any fun. I hadn't really given it a lot of thought before, but it was a hot day, and the river was very cold, and I can see the attraction. Haven't actually tried it, I'm not real keen on the whole "getting plastered and falling in the river and drowning" thing, although I understand that's an optional part of the experience.

So basically I just wandered around with a camera for a couple of hours looking for photogenic stuff. I think I've mentioned before that the state parks department has started an annual photo contest, with the winning photos appearing in the next year's Oregon State Parks calendar. So I spent the day looking for material, here and at Bonnie Lure, the other state park near Estacada, with a side trip over to Fearless Brewing (which I mentioned before here). I later discovered my poor little camera doesn't have enough megapixels to qualify, and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have used any of these pics even if they'd been eligible. But at least I'm getting a blog post out of the adventure, which I guess is something. And besides, there's always next year.

PS, here's a heron I saw down by the river. Besides loading up on additional megapixels, I think I'll need to look for a telephoto lens with a little more oomph to it. I know I've sung the praises of "digital zoom" before, but it's really no substitute for having a proper long, if rather Freudian-looking, lens at one's disposal.