Black Crater

July 13, 2014.

7.8 miles | 2500′ ele. gain | 3.5 hours | Hike photos

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After seeing some early morning lightning and hearing ominous thunder from our dispersed campsite near Clear Lake, we decided to take a drive to McKenzie Pass to see what the weather had in store for  the day. From the expansive viewpoint at the Dee Wright Observatory, our fears were confirmed: the mountains were under attack by a number of dark storm systems that were laying down rain and hail in addition to the lightning strikes. Forest Service crews were standing by to keep an eye on brewing forest fires. We looked at each other and said, well, let’s go hiking.

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We decided to head to Black Crater because it was just a bit east of the worst of the storms. The trailhead was empty, so we parked and started walking uphill at a brisk pace. Most of the trail to Black Crater is buried in the forest. We trudged along, listening to the sky grumbling, wondering if we’d get stuck in the rain, or worse, in a fire.

Shortly after pondering this, rain began coming down on us. Aaron, of course, had his raincoat and pack cover on in a flash. I hadn’t packed a rain shell for this trip, but I did grab the footprint for my tent and stuffed it in my pack for just such a predicament. What followed was the assembly of a functional poncho for myself and my backpack.

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We moved ahead with confidence, pushing through the rain and hail no problem. The next obstacle, predictably, was snow.

It began as a few short snow patches, but as we reached treeline, we hit more persistent and deep snow. We managed along just fine, barreling straight up a steep snow slope when the trail’s switchbacks disappeared beneath it. While the distant skies were still gray and dramatic, the skies overhead began to show patches of blue and friendly, puffy clouds. We enjoyed the final stretch to the summit, traversing across beautiful rock gardens and passing by twisted whitebark pines.

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I had become fully engaged taking pictures of and admiring the tiny, bright, alpine flower beds. But when I lifted my head to look in the other direction, I shouted “holy crap! The Sisters are RIGHT THERE!” So close I felt I could throw a rock to North Sister.  But as we continued, the views got even better, clearer, and more spectacular. With all the exploring I’d done in Central Oregon, I was completely blown away that I’d overlooked this tremendous hike.

Just below the summit, a broad, cinder plateau offered a nice photographing opportunity. The clouds cooperated just long enough for me to capture a photosphere.


Then we hiked up a narrow catwalk to reach the summit proper, atop a small cliff. Here were the remains of the old fire tower lookout. It must have been a pretty amazing place to be. As we quickly downed our lunches, the gray clouds began to swallow up the Sisters. We knew more weather was heading our way, so we boogied out of there.


But the rain never came. In fact, the sun began to break through and we began seeing other hikers coming up the trail. Things had taken a turn for the better. Back at the parking lot, we ran into a family of hikers who said they were behind us but turned back due to the snow. With confident feet and a capable hiking partner, I thought, that snow was no big deal. I felt lucky that we were able to enjoy some solitude on one of Central Oregon’s most perfectly perched viewpoints.

Middle and North Pyramid

July 4, 2014.

North Pyramid Trail > Middle Pyramid Trail > Summit > Traverse to North Pyramid 

about 9 miles | 1900′ ele. gain | 5:15 hours | Hike photos

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On my last trip to Scar Mountain, along the Old Cascades Crest trail, I became intrigued with the idea of linking up the Three Pyramids. I couldn’t find any trip reports online describing such a hike. Pulling out the maps, I learned a little more about the terrain. Only the Middle Pyramid had a trail to its summit, the former site of a lookout tower. North Pyramid was only a short ways off of one trail, and the toughest looking bit looked to be the South Pyramid, at least a one mile walk from any trail.

I began my trek from the North  Pyramid trailhead, the same starting point for the Scar Mountain hike. Almost immediately, I got lost among a jumble of short, overgrown gravel roads. I angled into the woods in the rough direction I thought I needed to go, and stumbled across a nice looking trail. The trail led downhill to a small bridge and a thickly overgrown, streamside meadow. Bushwhacking through face-high ferns and salmonberry bushes, I followed the sound of the creek to find a second bridge. Once on the other side, the trail was easier to follow.

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I continued uphill and crossed road 2047. The trail continued along in spurts of uphill sections and traverses. Eventually, the trail climbed up through a series of switchbacks to gain the ridge between North and Middle Pyramid. At the saddle between the two, the trail provided a sunny view of the mountains. Looking back, I could see the summit of North Pyramid. It looked totally do-able on the way back, if I could avoid the rocky cliffs.

I finished the walk up to Middle Pyramid, ending up at what appeared to be another saddle between two bumps. I mistakenly took a left, scrambled to the top of a rock pile, and looked south to see a post on the other bump, presumably the true summit of Middle Pyramid.

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I quickly made it over to the post and settled in for an early lunch. This gave me a great vantage point to both North and South Pyramid. The south side of the summit dropped sharply to what looked like a cliffy and steep ridge to South Pyramid. The summit block of South Pyramid also looked blockaded by rock cliffs. It would have been too much for me on my own today, so I took a bunch of pictures and put that Pyramid on hold, for now. Looking at the map, a southern approach looked to be a better way to get up there.

Oh, and the views from the old lookout site weren’t bad, either.

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Returning the way I came, I veered off the trail about halfway along the high traverse and followed the ridge north. The forest was gently sloped and open, with trees and beargrass lining the ground. On the east side, the forest gave way to steep, rocky meadows, and eventually I was pushed up to a blocky ridge that was overgrown with moss. Following the path of least resistance, I eventually reached the end of the ridge, and had spectacular views towards Mt. Jefferson. I looked around for a summit register, but couldn’t find anything.

It was a nice little place to sit and hang out, with the exception of all the biting ants. Once they got used to my presence, it seemed, they left me alone. Anyways, the views up here were tremendous, with nothing obscuring the sightline to Jefferson. pano.JPG

Plus, I got a nice vantage point to look at Scar Mountain, the last place I went hiking.

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Not wanting to retrace too many of my steps, I angled back along the ridge for just a short while before descending the steep, western face. I intended to pick up the trail at the switchbacks, but the lay of the land forced me a little too far north to do that. Instead, I ended up walking and sliding down a gully, grabbing on to trees and bushes for balance as I made my way back to a nice, gentle section of trail.


I was heavily assaulted by mosquitoes along this particular section of the bushwhack, which was unusual. I had hardly seen a mosquito all day long.

Back on the trail, time flew by. Once I reached the bridge over the creek, I stopped to collect salmonberries for the Fourth of July BBQ I’d hit on the way home. Unfortunately, the bushes were growing right at the creek’s edge, with the only access being from the creek itself. I slipped off my socks and shoes and walked through the ice-cold, ankle deep water. The berries were flourishing, ripe, and tasty.

On the way back to the car, I completed the short section of trail that I missed on my hike out. Turning around, I saw a barely noticeable brown post marking the start of the trail as it left one of the brushy roads. Easy to miss.

Back at the car, I noticed that the parking area was ringed with ripe, wild strawberries. I had a tiny bit of space left in my berry container to gather a small handful of strawberries before taking off.


Although I just read an article in the Salem Statesman Journal about the Middle Pyramid hike (from another trailhead), I’m sure this area does not see a ton of traffic. Certainly few people take the longer route that I did, although it’s not that long and it’s quite nice. If I someday become interested in backpacking, I’d love to traverse the whole Old Cascade Crest trail.

Exploring the Romantic Road in Germany

April 18-19, 2014.


See the pictures from our trip to Bavaria here.

We took a train from the south of France up to Frankfurt, Germany, where we began the second half of our trip. In Frankfurt, we rented a car and set off to travel the Romantic Road through Bavaria.

I’ll skip over the stress of figuring out how to operate an unfamiliar vehicle in a new country with an operating manual and navigation system in German.

I’ll also skip over navigating through narrow, congested city streets with little understanding of the strange street signs and confusing directions.

I’ll dive straight into the blissfully idyllic country drive through rolling hills, yellow fields, and puffy clouds. The Germany we pictured when we dreamed up this magical vacation.

Since we arrived in Germany in the evening, we bolted straight for Rothenburg ob der Tauber, where we had a place to stay for the night. We pulled in around 7 pm, driving down narrow but uncongested streets, as the city had quieted down for the evening. I admire the Rick Steves guides for the small, practical tips they offer; one of these tips was to spend the night in Rothenburg, since most of the visitors are day-trippers. He was spot on with that tidbit. We had a lovely meal at a nearly empty restaurant, I downed my first glass of German beer, and we took a peaceful stroll down darkened streets. We retired to a comfortable and spacious hotel room that felt like a four star suite after the crap hotels in France.

On the city walls of Rothenburg

All hotels in Germany include breakfast in the price, so we got up early and headed straight to breakfast. We were treated, unexpectedly, to a bountiful spread. This was no cheap, American continental breakfast. We had our choice of eggs, bacon, lunch meats, sliced cheeses, breads, rolls, jam, muesli, yogurt, fruit, coffee, and juice. We ate until our cheeks were stuffed like chipmunks, then rolled out the front door for a walk.

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The town of Rothenburg is encircled by an old rock wall. It is still nearly intact; visitors can walk around the perimeter of the city almost entirely on this medieval barrier. We began our tour at an old church with colorful gardens and bubbling fountains. It was a gray and foggy morning, but we enjoyed some views of the valley and nearby countryside. It looked very much like a scene from Monty Python: Search for the Holy Grail.

Occasionally, we’d see a person or two standing on the wall, taking pictures with their iPads or some nonsense. This was rare; inevitably there was a staircase within twenty feet of the people. It seemed like we were the only ones actually exploring much of the wall.

That meant there were lots of opportunities to look at stuff, take pretty pictures, and have a little fun.

After making a lap around Rothenburg, we wandered into a little bakery to try a Schneeball. We’d seen them in the shop windows the night before, and figured they were made for tourists but they looked really damn tasty. They were. Fried dough and sugar is always a winning combination. Plus, they had a funny name. Win-win.


The city was starting to buzz with people and I felt a little anxiety bubbling up. We made one last stop in St. Jacob’s church before leaving. The interior of the church was very different from those we’d seen in France. The walls were cement gray, plain and smooth. There were some elaborate stained glass panels, but most of the windows contained clear glass and were framed by straight bars and metal circles. The plain walls served as an excellent backdrop to feature the intricate wood carvings, huge pipe organ, and perfect, symmetrical border details. It had a different style of beauty, but it still looked a little unfinished.

Around lunch time, we bailed out of Rothenburg. I’ll skip how insane the traffic was as we tried to get out of the walled city, which is not well designed for hordes of cars.

Instead, the story continues on the peaceful country drive. Aaron was behind the wheel and I frantically flipped through our guidebooks to try and pick another stop. There were too many quaint, historical towns for us to see in only a day and a half. I decided on Nördlingen, a walled city inside a crater. It sounded pretty awesome. Clearly, many other people had the same idea, and the place was jam-packed. We found a spot in a two-hour parking zone, so we had to prioritize our visit. We walked to the center of town and climbed the 90 meter tower at St. Georg’s church. It was 2.5 euro for the privilege of walking up the tower. The ascent up the old spiral staircase was dizzying, and the view was excellent. But it was bumper-to-bumper people traffic at the top, so we had to wait for someone to leave before we could get out on the deck.



There were so many more towns to see, but we had to get to Schwangau that evening. We skipped back to the freeway and I pored through the books to choose one last stop. I decided on the Wieskirche, a rococo-style church that had ridiculously high reviews. It was all alone, outside a small village with apparently no other attractions. And, there was no entrance fee.


Upon arriving, it was clear we were at the right place. Not because the church was all that stunning, but because there was a pay-parking lot and there were vendors selling trinkets everywhere. A truck drove past us and rolled down the window. A German lady inside handed us her parking ticket, which was still good for an hour, and motioned for us to use it. We mumbled a danke schoen and watched her drive off. It was an omen!

The outside of the church was unremarkable. It was a big, white, plaster structure with a bell tower and some moderately interesting external architecture.

But once we got inside, the entire character changed. Every surface of every part was exquisitely decorated with gold leaf, vibrant paint, and three dimensional structure. Only a few plain, white strips of wall remained to draw attention to the painted details. The ceiling was most impressive of all, with finely detailed paintings of the “scourged savior,” showing scenes of Christ’s suffering and redemption. Religious or not, one could hardly ignore the craftsmanship and beauty of the church’s interior.

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We finished the drive to Schwangau, a little mountain town near the Austrian border. The majestic Alps dominated the view from the deck of our perfectly perched hotel room. It seemed mellow at the hotel and the town felt empty, but as soon as we tried to go out for dinner we were shut down left and right. We ended up at the bar in a tiny Italian restaurant, which was not exactly what we were looking for. After dinner, we explored a little city park near the hotel, where we could see two castles in the mountains: Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau, our destinations for tomorrow.

Can you see them in the image below?

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Resources for Visitors:

Romantic Road

Rothenburg ob der Tauber


Pont du Gard

April 17, 2014.

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Click to view the photos from Nîmes and Pont du Gard

The Pont du Gard is a 2,000 year old Roman aqueduct that is a short bus ride from Nîmes. There are only a handful of buses heading there each day, so we boarded the early bus and arrived before the museum and shops had opened.

The aqueduct


A quick walk brought us to the Pont du Gard. The sheer size of the structure was hard to comprehend. It was made of huge, golden blocks neatly stacked and formed into arches. Three stories of arches gracefully spanned the Gardon River. At the top, a narrow channel once permitted the flow of drinking water from one side of the river to the other.

We walked across the bridge and explored the trails on the other side. A sign pointed to a hillside viewpoint to the right, but dirt paths led off in all directions. We spent a good portion of the morning chasing trails, “finding” bits of stonework and ruins, and searching for secret viewpoints. Eventually, we made our way to a cute, little wildflower meadow that had an excellent view back to the Pont du Gard.

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One of the best parts of this impromptu exploration was that no one else had decided to go exploring, or so it seemed. We had our own private hiking trails for hours.

 After some creative scrambling we made it down to the river and hopped along the rocks to get a view of the underside of the aqueduct. We could hear lots of people on the deck above, but no one was down on the river. Again, it felt like our own special place. The river was running slowly and smoothly. Swallows flitted above our heads, diving in and out of the nests they’d built on the aqueduct. The giant structure provided welcome shade in the heat of the day.


Back on the other bank of the river, we walked up to the fenced off upper portion of the Pont du Gard. We could clearly see the path that water used to flow thousands of years ago.


We made our way back to the main entrance and walked through the museum. It was overrun with groups of French schoolchildren, but we managed to weave our way through the exhibits that were not occupied. Although it was poorly lit and somewhat strangely designed, the museum had lots of informative and interesting exhibits that told the story of the ancient Romans. A combination of ancient artifacts, modern replicas, and historical photographs showed the Pont du Gard throughout time.

All the exhibits focused on one thing: water, and how to move it from one place to another. This reminded us that we were pretty darn thirsty, and hungry too. It was about lunchtime.

Picnic in the park

We grabbed some sandwiches and sodas from the cafe and ducked into the woods to get away from the crowds. We enjoyed a lovely picnic lunch, consuming the most un-American items we could find: baguette sandwiches, “Nature” chips, and a carbonated drink called Panach’.

Aaron took one sip of the aforementioned beverage and handed it to me, asking for a trade. As it turned out, Panach’ is made by Heineken, and contains a mixture of lemonade and beer. While I wouldn’t ever order it on purpose, it made a nice accompaniment to a warm spring picnic.

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A garden surprise

After lunch, we walked through the Mémoires de Garrigue, a Mediterranean garden located in the park near the Pont du Gard. A signed route led us through the many pathways in the garden. Here, I really wished my French was better. There were something like eighty stations scattered throughout the park, offering historical photos and facts at every station. I could tell that the signs told a story of the people in times past, and how the land was used to support the community. We made our best guesses about the stories on each sign, using help from Google Translate and the context of each sign. We learned frequently used words such as hill (colline), abri (shelter), manure (fumier) and récolte (harvest). It felt somewhat like a scavenger hunt. Again, we pretty much had the place to ourselves.

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Visiting the Pont du Gard and surrounding trails and gardens was one of the highlights of the entire trip. It had it all: natural beauty that begged for exploration, incredible architecture, and educational exhibits that added depth and background to everything we saw. While the Pont du Gard was not on my to-do list heading out to France, I can’t imagine doing this trip without making the effort to visit this site. Sometimes last-minute plans turn out to be treasures.

Resources for visitors

Mémoires de Garrigue
Pont du Gard

City walk: Nîmes, France

April 16, 2014.

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Click to view the photos from Nîmes and Pont du Gard

When we were planning this trip, I really had no idea what I wanted to see or where I wanted to go in France. I asked a more experienced travel buddy where I should go and she mentioned Nîmes. As I did my trip research, I found the city of Nîmes to be somewhat elusive; it’s not in the France travel guide from Rick Steves, and no one else I’d spoken to had really heard of it. All these  were omens that spoke to me : “I really want to go there.”

Nîmes has a rich history. It was an important city in the first few centuries AD, under Roman rule. The Romans constructed an array of impressive buildings, some of which remain in really good shape today. Nîmes is much smaller than Lyon or Paris, so it is perfect for exploring by foot. The city also provides quick access to the Pont du Gard, which I’ll cover in another blog post.

Les Arenès de Nîmes

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Right in the center of town, we found the big arena. This was a great starting point for our travel back in time to the ancient Roman era. There is a self-guided audio tour provided to visitors, so we walked at our own pace as we learned about the long and twisted history of the arena. The arena was used for entertainment purposes, which often involved lots of blood and death. Over centuries, the events changed from animal hunts, prisoner executions, gladiator fights, and bullfights. We learned all we ever wanted to learn (and more) about the various types of gladiators and battles. We were so inspired by our visit that we watched the movie “Gladiator” on our train ride from Nîmes  to Frankfurt.

Jardins de la Fontaine


These sprawling, carefully designed gardens served as a backdrop to our take-out kebab lunch. There were palm trees, pools, fountains, lawns and flower beds. Children were taking pony rides, school groups were playing, people were out strolling and generally enjoying the sunshine. It was a beautiful place to just hang out.

The original centerpiece was a natural spring used as a foundation for the first Roman settlement. Today, the spring bubbles up into a stone pool connected to other channels and pools leading out of the garden. The modern structures were designed and built in the 18th century. Back home, we’re lucky to have a couple of old, rickety park benches along the edge of a lawn of grass. I think we could learn a thing or two from the city planners in Nîmes.

Temple de Diane

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Within the Jardins stood the remains of a temple. To this day, the purpose of the temple remains a mystery. It stood behind a metal fence with a French interpretive sign. It was interesting to walk in and around it, noting the centuries of graffiti and little flowering plants poking through every crack they could.

La Tour Magne

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The only reason to visit this tower is to enjoy the view from the top. The tower itself is nothing special, apart from the fact that it’s about two thousand years old. It was originally built as part of the town’s defense system. We showed our entrance ticket and walked up the tall, spiral staircase to the viewing platform nearly 60 feet above the ground. It feels much higher on top, since the tower was built on a hill overlooking the city. From there, we had an excellent view of the arena and central boulevard as well as all the rooftops of the city. The platform was pretty small, however, so as soon as another group came up we had to leave.

Maison Carée

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We saved the Maison Carée for last. From the outside, this is an impressive structure. It gleamed bright white in the sunshine. Its tall columns erupted out of the earth. Its clean lines and stout structure made it look like it was just completed yesterday. A huge courtyard set it apart from the busy streets and modern architecture all around it. It was magnificent to behold.

When we went to go inside, we were told that a movie played roughly every half hour, so we’d have to wait for the next showing. As we entered, we noticed that the place was completely modernized, containing a small theater for watching the movie and nothing else. The movie itself was not worth waiting for. The only reason it was remotely interesting was that we’d already visited many of the places featured in the film and had some sense of the history and locations. It would have been a terrible way to start our tour of the city.

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On top of all the sightseeing, we had some incredible food in the restaurants and from the street vendors. I loved the smaller feel of Nîmes, the clash of modern and ancient architecture, the friendly locals and the comfortable climate. I had no idea that my visit to Nîmes was just about to get even better with a visit to the Pont du Gard…

Resources for travelers

Amphitheater of Nîmes, Maison Carée Tour Magne
Finding Nemo in Nîmes (Rick Steves)
Pont du Gard

City walk: Lyon, France

April 14-15, 2014.

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Click to view the photos from Lyon

We took the train south from Paris to Lyon, one of France’s largest urban centers. Lyon is also famed for its cuisine and ancient Roman ruins. With a day and a half to spend, we had a lot of ground to cover. The first afternoon took us to the park. On the second day, we visited 2 cathedrals and the Gallo-Roman museum, then explored the traboules, stairways and side streets of the old city before finishing up with a traditional bouchon meal.

Parc de la Tête d’Or

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Lyon made a tremendous first impression on us with this sprawling, magnificent park. The park is divided into several sections, and includes a lake, walking paths, rose gardens, greenhouses sports fields, and a zoo. Everything was free, including the zoo, so we began with a relaxing stroll to see the animals. For the next several hours, we explored the park. Along the way we found a war monument, a Mediterranean garden, a urban beekeeping display (including some very busy hives), families of geese, and a huge iron gate. It was a lovely park with something for everyone.

Cathedral of Lyon and Notre Dame de Fourvière

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Surprisingly, we hadn’t gotten enough of being in churches yet, so we visited a couple more. The Cathedral of Lyon, or Saint Jean-Baptiste Cathedral, was located near a small square in Vieux (Old) Lyon. It was hard to believe that this structure was built in the 14h century. It’s sturdy walls, built in the Gothic style, had a stern presence over the square. We timidly opened the huge doors to take a peek inside. The interior was beautiful, with stained glass and flickering candles playing with light and shadows. Carefully carved stone highlighted an acute attention to detail. Downstairs, a treasury held many priceless artifacts from the church’s past, including gold ornaments, robes, and items used to celebrate mass. It all felt very lavish.

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A short but steep walk up the hill took us to the Notre Dame. It seemed like every city had one of these churches dedicated to Mary. It was very windy on top of the hill so we were happy to duck inside. The interior was grand, with spectacular mosaics decorating the walls. Gold sparkled from every corner of the walls. Every square inch of the place was ornately adorned, including the ceiling. Rule #1 for traveling in Europe: never miss the opportunity to visit a church. Each one was spectacular in their own right. We spent what felt like hours investigating every corner of the magnificent building.

Roman Theaters and Museum

One of the most modern buildings in Lyon stood in stark contrast to one of the oldest. The Gallo-Roman museum, built seamlessly into a hillside, was a stone’s throw away from a rare pair of ancient Roman theaters. The museum contained artifacts uncovered in Lyon and surrounding areas, like statues, grave markers, lead pipes, pottery, and mosaic tile floors. For a measly 4 Euro, we had access to the entire collection. A friendly woman at the front desk set us up with free English audioguides and we were on our way.


After exploring the museum, we walked around the remains of the theaters. The lower portions were in really good shape, and were still apparently being used for festivals and shows. The upper portions were more wild and rugged and interesting. Our feet were pretty tired from this point, so we cut our explorations short and headed back into town.


All over Lyon, there are secret passageways snaking through the old buildings. These passageways are called traboules. I’d read about them in Rick Steves’ book so we thought we’d try and find a few.


Most of the traboules were private, but a few were open to the public. Shiny plaques hung on the walls in front of some of the more prominent traboules. We pulled open a few doors near these plaques to investigate what traboules looked like. As we expected, they were like private hallways leading to interior entrances to apartments, stairways and businesses. Some were colorful, well lit and decorated. Others were dark and narrow. Some were open to the sky above, and others were totally enclosed. We popped in and out of a few of these, and an old French woman motioned for us to follow her into another one. We did, and then sort of followed her around town, watching her every move, to find more traboules. She appeared to have a map in her hand, like she was looking for treasure. We hadn’t done much research, so we were happy to have a little guidance along the way.

Eating in Lyon

Our first experience of eating in Lyon fortunately did not set the tone for the rest of our stay here. I’d read about the food scene in the city, and its famed bouchons. These were small, traditional, family-run eateries that offered lots of simple and hearty dishes for a reasonable price. I happened to notice that our hotel was pretty close to Chez Georges, which was very well regarded on the travel websites I’d visited. We walked in a little after noon, and were greeted in French. “No, we do not have a reservation,” I stuttered as best I could, and was afraid we’d be turned away. But, we were seated at a long, communal table (no one else was seated there) and left to think about what jerks we were for coming in off the street.

I struggled to read the daily specials board, not because it was in French, but because the the writing was illegible and chalk was half smudged off. When the waiter came back to ask what we’d like, I asked for water and 2 daily specials. Any follow-up questions he asked me were followed up with shoulder shrugs and Je ne comprends pas. I think I was starting to sweat.

Eventually, we were brought a couple of dishes in succession. They were delicious, and we enjoyed them, but I felt we were missing out on something. Everyone else in the restaurant was brought out these communal steaming casseroles to try. I vaguely remembered reading about the shared-dish concept online, and regretted that I had no way to ask if we could have some of what were they having. Total French fail.

Although our waiter was very nice, he spoke very quickly to my slow French ears and I felt awful that I was completely paralyzed and unable to talk back. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and never wanted to embarrass myself like that again. Fortunately, Aaron’s the type of guy that just rolls with the punches, and assured me that I was much less of an ass than I felt I was.

Our last meal in Lyon was the complete opposite. After walking down a street in the old city, reading menu boards outside a few bouchons, the proprietor of one restaurant poked his head outside and said Bon soir! Entrez! or something to that effect. We shook our head and kept walking, when suddenly Aaron decided he wanted to go back there.

When we walked in, there was one family eating dinner in the corner. The other few tables were empty. He sat us down, gave us the menu and greeted us again in French. He had a kind face and a nice smile and we immediately felt comfortable there. I squeaked out a few basic French phrases and pleasantries, ordered our meals, and was feeling quite proud of myself. When the waiter came back, I realized I’d mistakenly ordered not a glass of wine, but an entire bottle. For me. Aaron doesn’t drink.

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Working quickly to down a couple glasses of wine, I was thrilled when the first course came out. We had a delicious Lyonnaise salad and some sausage-in-bread thing to get us started. Then, we received the main course: a quenelle for me and a huge sausage for Aaron. An iron skillet full of roasted potatoes was our shared side dish. It was all delicious. The waiter patiently and slowly explained to me that the quenelle recipe is traditional, not like those trendy huge ones the touristy restaurants have, and asked us how the food was. He then indicated that it was cash only, and I was grateful that I’d taken enough Euro in my purse that day, or we’d still be doing dishes right now.

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Overall, Lyon was a lovely town to see on foot. There were more than enough sights to see in the couple days we had, and if we’d had more time, plenty of shopping to do. There were excellent restaurants and food vendors on every street corner, although we often felt overwhelmed by choice. My lesson: make reservations if you want to show up to a well-known establishment, and forgodssake learn how to order like the locals do.

Resources for travelers

La Cathedral Saint-Jean-Baptiste de Lyon
Lyon’s Traboules
Notre Dame de Fourvière
Roman Theaters of Fourvière

Paris in the Springtime, Part 2

April 9-14, 2014.

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 Click to view the entire album from Paris.

The story picks up on Paris’ Left Bank. Heading south from Notre Dame, we walked clear across the Latin Quarter to stand in line at the entrance to the Catacombs. It was lunch hour, and we hadn’t eaten yet, but we were committed to getting into this place. The pictures were compelling. Plus, it was so hot in the sun, spending some time in a cool cave sounded like just the thing.

The Catacombs

An hour after we got in line, at last it was our turn to descend into the tunnel. We picked up a couple of audioguides and went down. Sixty feet below the city, we entered a network of tunnels. Originally a huge limestone quarry, the tunnels now house the bones of millions of Parisians. In the 18th and 19th century, Paris saw the closure of several cemeteries in an effort to improve public health. The bones were dug up and moved to their present home in the Catacombs.

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Along the tunnels there were several sayings, poems, and quotes written or carved on the walls. Simple markers indicated which cemetery the surrounding piles of bones came from. The bones were arranged in neat patterns, with the knobby ends of femurs forming walls on either side of the tunnels. Rows of carefully laid skulls added complexity to the simple pattern. The less aesthetic bones and other bits must have been buried in the deeper layers of the piles, out of view. In all, we covered over one mile of walking underground.

Besides the bones, there were a few other unique features. My favorite were the 18th centure carvings created by a quarryman in his spare time. The buildings were replicas of actual places he’d been, which is especially incredible considering iPhones weren’t invented at that time, so they were carved from memory.


The experience was made much richer with the help of the audioguide. Since we couldn’t read much of the French, we would have pretty much wasted our time if we hadn’t had the guides to listen to.

Jardin du Luxembourg

Emerging from the darkness, famished, we jetted over to the first lunch place we could find and devoured some crepes and cider. We took the scenic walk back to the apartment, detouring through the Jardin du Luxembourg.


Now, this was a park. A map at the entrance detailed all the different sections and what you could do there: playgrounds for kids, bocce ball for old men, sitting areas, fountains, gardens, and of course, snack stands. There were symbols designating which grass was off limits and which was ok to trample. The park was filled with people, each enjoying the outdoors in their own way. We wandered through the paths, trying to stay in the shade, until we got our fill. If I was staying longer in Paris, this would be a favorite destination on a lazy, sunny afternoon.


The Panthéon was another of France’s National Monuments that seemed worthy of a visit. It was kind of on our way home anyways. The dome was under construction, but even so, it had captured our attention early in the trip.

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The outside of the structure was impressive, with its grand staircase and huge columns, but the inside was ten times more amazing. I felt really small once I stepped through the door. Built in the Neoclassical style, the Panthéon is shaped like a cross with a massive dome on top. The building stood over 270 feet tall. Gargantuan paintings filled up the walls, bold tile patterns decorated the floor, and detailed stone carvings commanded attention in each room. Click to view a 360° view of the interior.

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Plaques recalled a time when the Panthéon served as a place for an important experiment: demonstrating the rotation of the Earth by hanging a pendulum from the top of the central dome. Foucault’s Pendulum has since been removed to a museum and a replica was installed here. But, not today, since the dome was under construction.

Lastly, we descended into the crypt beneath the main building. Here lay the bodies of many historical French figures, including Marie and PIerre Curie, Victor Hugo, Louis Braille and Voltaire. Many confusing hallways led from one tomb to the next. Some had fresh flowers or other gifts, some were gated shut, and some had descriptive signage explaining what the person had accomplished to earn their place in the Panthéon.


The next morning, we headed straight for the Louvre. It was a short walk from the apartment, so we arrived before it opened and got in line. The queue standing outside the famous glass pyramid turned out not to be a ticket line, but a security checkpoint allowing us the privilege to go buy tickets. Once we descended into the main atrium, all hell broke loose, with people walking in every which direction and speaking every language known to man. We looked around the confusion until my eyes settled upon a ticket machine. Once we got tickets, we had our choice of several wings to enter. I headed straight for the one with the least people milling around. Whew, we were in.

We started exploring a wing of the museum dedicated to the history of the Louvre. We were mostly alone, looking at old pictures, floor plans, and details of renovations of the building over time. It was fascinating, but not a major draw for tourists. After that, we explored some of the more popular exhibits: Greek Antiquities, European paintings, Asian art. The halls were packed with loud and pushy tourists, all on their cellphones and iPads, shoving in front of me to take a picture of whatever I was looking at, then take off a second later. Was anyone actually looking at anything? I thought, perhaps not. I kept my phone in my bag and instead tried to enjoy the art and artifacts displayed in the museum.

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What was maybe more impressive was the museum building itself. Looking up, I saw intricate paintings, decorative wood and stone work, and lavishly decorated rooms. Looking out the windows, views of the building exterior, glass pyramids, fountains, and gardens presented themselves. The Louvre was an extraordinary place, if you only took the time to look.

One Last Surprise

Later that evening, after walking past the Eiffel Tower, its pulsating mob of tourists and sketchy street folk hawking souvenirs, after a late dinner, and after exhausting our feet with walking, we conjured up enough energy to re-visit the Eiffel Tower after dark.

Paris was a great walking town at night. It was cool but not cold, and bright lights illuminated all the monuments, fountains, churches and statues throughout the city. We wandered towards the tower, admiring its familiar shape jutting over the Paris skyline.

But suddenly, we stopped in our tracks. When the clock hit 10pm, a dazzling light show began. Each light twinkled fast and furious, the entire structure glistening in the night sky. We rushed to find a clearer viewpoint and take some photos. This was an event to remember. The lights flashed on and off for several minutes before settling back to normal, as if nothing had ever happened. The picture does not do it justice; this must be experienced first hand.

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The next couple of days were mostly consumed with MovNat training, which was awesome in its own right.

And my favorite moment in Paris? That Sunday morning when I woke up early to get to my training class by foot. Jogging along the Seine with not another soul in sight, watching the boats floating in the river, breathing in the cool air, feeling the cobblestone under my feet. It was perfect.

Resources for Visitors:

Eiffel Tower
Jardin du Luxembourg
Les Catacombes
Louvre Museum

Paris in the Springtime, Part 1

April 9-14. 2014.

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Click to view the entire album from Paris.

Five days in Paris is not enough to see the city, but Aaron and I did our best to see the major sights without too much rushing around. We managed to get around the city on foot 95% of the time, with just a few Metro rides to help save some time and to save our sore feet. My travel to Paris served two purposes: to attend a certification workshop for MovNat, and to visit the city as a tourist. I’ll describe the tourist portion of the trip here, with a detailed description of my workshop experience on

AirBnB Apartment Rental

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Hotel rooms in Paris are microscopic and expensive. A little searching on the web brought us to AirBnB, a site that allows property owners to rent rooms, apartments and homes around the world for short periods of time. We rented a 5th floor apartment on the Place des Innocents, right in the heart of Paris’ Right Bank. From there, we could get anywhere we needed to go. In a 20 minute walking radius, we had the Louvre, Notre Dame, Jardin des Tuileries, and the Latin Quarter. Plus hundreds of restaurants, cafés, stunning churches, beautiful fountains and many small parks. All that convenience also meant there were always lots of people around and they were up partying well until the wee hours of the morning. It’s a good  thing we tuckered ourselves out during the day so we could sleep soundly at night.

 Champs Élysées and the Arc de Triomphe

What better way to see a new city than to walk its streets? After settling into the apartment, we headed back down to the main square and began walking towards the Louvre. Although it wasn’t on our to-do list today, we thought it might be nice to check it out and to see just how crazy of a wait it would be to get in. Our observation: insane. We took a look at the line and continued walking.

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 Our journey took us next through the Tuileries Garden, where perfectly trimmed trees, colorful flower gardens, and huge statues existed in harmony. The park was buzzing with Parisians having a chat, a coffee, a stroll or a smoke. Ah yes, smoking. I’d forgotten that that was a thing, having no friends who smoke, and having smoking banned pretty much everywhere in the US. It was a bit of culture shock to be sucking in cigarette smoke constantly, especially in parks and sidewalk cafés.

Undeterred, we continued our walk past an obelisk and out to the famed Champs Élysées.  The sidewalks were very wide and they were packed with people carrying shopping bags from the many stores lining the strip. I was feeling a bit like one tiny swimmer in a pulsating school of fish. But we were determined to follow the street to its end at the Arc de Triomphe. I had an insider tip that the view from the top was the best in Paris and there wouldn’t be a line of people waiting. I was sold.

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 Sure enough, there were lots of people walking around the bottom of the monument, but not too many coughing up the 9.50 Euro to go inside. We did, and were pleased to find excellent views of the city from the top. The nice weather was the cherry on top. We took our time getting various angles from various perches atop the Arc. One side was under construction and covered with scaffolding, which was par for the course for nearly every architectural landmark in Paris.

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 We looped back to the apartment via Rue St. Honoré, which was quieter and more pleasant than the Champs Élysées. My feet were tired. It had been a long day of walking after a long night of flying. We were happy to have a kitchen so we could make a relaxing dinner at home before turning in. The party outside had just begun.

 Finding Sainte Chapelle

The next morning, we knew we had a jam-packed agenda so we got an early start. Today we’d visit Île de la Cité, an island in the middle of the Seine, then cross over to the Left Bank. Before we could do either of those things we were distracted by shiny objects in the distance. It was a pedestrian footbridge covered, deck to railing, with thousands of padlocks. There is a fairly recent tradition that couples will attach a lock to a bridge, then throw the key away in the river as a symbol of their undying love for each other. It sounds pretty tacky, but the colorful glimmer coming from the huge mass of locks is quite a sight to see. In a city where everything is centuries old, the padlocks are almost like a piece of modern art.

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 Okay, one distraction down. Next I had a mission to visit the tiny park on the tip of Île de la Cité, near the Pont Neuf Bridge. A fellow Corvallis French Club member had told me it was his favorite spot in Paris. I had to go.

We found a narrow set of stairs leading down to the park from the bridge that brought us to the park. It was beautiful, freshly watered and cleaned, with several pretty trees and plants lining the fences. With the river flowing lazily by in the background, it was a treat for the eyes. But not for the nose. It smelled like urine and boat exhaust. Plus I’m sure someone was smoking on the lower level. We hung out as long as we could stand it, then headed out towards Notre Dame.

Along the way, we happened to see signs for Sainte Chapelle. Sure, Sainte Chapelle wasn’t on our short list at first. But we’d seen some photos of its stained glass windows while visiting the Arc de Triomphe and became very interested to see it in person. We took a detour.

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 There was a great deal of construction happening here, but it did not detract from the incredible beauty of the place. Stained glass windows from the 13th century extend 50 feet high, sending beams of brightly colored light into the upper chapel. Every inch of the interior was decorated with paint, meticulously carved stonework, and colored glass. The level of detail was mind-blowing. Sometimes those places that you discover along the way bring the most joy. Score another point for taking a walking tour.

Notre Dame Cathedral

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 Before taking off for the Left Bank, we had to at least see the outside of Notre Dame. To contrast the two, Sainte Chapelle was like the slender, agile kicker, and Notre Dame was like the solid, defensive lineman. Notre Dame takes up space. From the outside, it looks gigantic and somehow it seems to be bigger once you go inside. The ceiling is so high it seems to reach into the heavens. What supports the weight is beyond my understanding of architecture, because the interior is so spacious, the whole thing appears to be supported by puppet strings.

Despite the “Silence” signs all over the cathedral, it boomed with sound inside. Hundreds of visitors were talking, banging sticks together (?) and generally making a ruckus. Visitation skyrockets when the entry fee is zero. At the back of the cathedral, sounds from a choir practice attempted to cut through the noise. There was something about listening to singing inside a huge cathedral that took my breath away.

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 Nonetheless, we took our time walking through all the parts of the cathedral, admiring the windows, sculptures, painted patterns on the wall, and all the little details that made the building memorable. The delicate decorations contrasted with the simple, unblemished brick walls, columns and arches. The design allowed you to focus on the stories told in the vivid imagery plastered throughout the building.

Eventually the crowds really got to me and I had to get out of there. We admired some views back at the cathedral from afar before finishing our river crossing and exploring the Latin Quarter.

Resources for Visitors:

Arc de Triomphe (official site)
Champs Élysées
La Sainte Chapelle
Sainte-Chapelle (official site)

Pacific City Storm Walking

March 2, 2014.

Nestucca Spit adventure walk | Cape Kiwanda beach and dunes

Click here for the video montage and here for the photos


Nestucca Spit

The weather was lousy everywhere, so I decided to head west. It’s usually the right thing to do. Expecting to be battered by wind and rain, I bedecked myself in duck boots and rain gear, then lined my backpack with a thick, black garbage bag. In it I carefully placed spare socks and warm layers along with the usual ten-essential type things. I parked in the barren lot at Bob Straub State Park and began the first leg of my adventure. My guidebook described a 5.5 mile walk, following the length of the spit along the water’s edge for about 2 miles to its end, then rounding the bend and walking the beach on the other side until it petered out. From there, it was a cross-country trip to return to the beach on the other side. I had intermittent flashbacks to the hell-forest at Netarts Spit that I battled through last year. I was pretty determined not to screw this one up. I walked head on into the wind as I followed the beach. Sand pelted my face as I progressed along.


Two miles later, I approached the end of the spit. The wind picked up in little bursts, threatening to uproot me from the sand. I carried on around the corner and walked back on the opposite side. The wind was calmer here, or at least it was coming from behind me so it felt much more pleasant. Sand still whipped around in a frenzy under my feet.

According to my book, I should have been able to walk another mile or so along this side of the spit until I was forced to move inland by encroaching water. Today, the water level was high so I was unable to walk very far before retreating up the grassy banks into the dunes. There, I found a web-like network of user trails that extended throughout the upper portion of the spit. I galloped up and down the dunes for awhile, then wandered back when I saw an inviting patch of beach.

That was also short-lived, and I ran up the steep-sided slope to get to higher ground. It was a forest of gnarly beach vegetation that could have been much worse. I was able to duck beneath the branches, tunneling my way back to open territory. At last I could see the full width of the spit: a wide deflation plain decorated with red, orange and green grasses with large dunes looming on the other side. All I had to do was cross the spit and get back to the beach on the ocean side. When have I said that before…?

I walked quickly through the grass, some cross-country and some on trails. A swampy flat lay between myself and the dunes near the ocean. Somewhere I’d have to cross it. It was difficult to tell just how deep the water was, but I quickly figured out that it was deeper than my duck boots. Going barefoot was inevitable.

I trekked along, parallel to the dunes, for quite a while before I decided to make a run across the water. I removed my boots and socks, rolled up my rain pants, and took my first step into the cold water.


I took the short way across the first deep puddle, hoping to find a drier route across but that was simply not happening. Knowing the dunes weren’t that far away, I took a straight course through the deepest bit of the swamp, hoping that I wouldn’t step into a hole disguised in the grass. On the other side, I decided to keep my boots off and walk barefoot in the sand. The temperature wasn’t too cold and the wind was bearable. It was a nice walk back to the dunes on soft sand.

Atop the dunes, I regained views of waves crashing onto the beach. Haystack Rock emerged from the misty sea in the distance. I had no idea how close I was to the car, so I headed inland on a sandy trail that ducked down into the thick forest. Walking through claustrophobic tree tunnels, I pondered the stark contrast between flowing, expansive dunes and twisted, compact tree trunks.

Back at the car, I made a sorry attempt to dry off my feet and get most of the sand off. Then, a quick drive brought me to a parking lot at Cape Kiwanda.

Cape Kiwanda

There were actual humans here, which was a disappointment, but I layered up and wandered onto the beach to see what all the fuss was about. A car was parked on the beach and some tourists were lolling about. The wind was blowing with a fury. I headed towards a bluff and began climbing up a large sand dune. The wind was at my back, actually pushing me uphill as I walked. At the top of the dune, I got a great view of the ocean on the other side. Looking beneath my feet, there were incredible, tiny, wind-sculpted sand shapes that I’d never seen before.

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I ran crazily down the hill, because, well that’s what hills are for. The sand in my boots was grinding against my feet so I ducked out of the wind to take them off. The trudge back up the hill wasn’t as physically hard as I thought, but my sand-blasted face was pretty raw. I walked backwards and sideways as much as I could to keep the sand out of my face.

There was one more hill to conquer. I continued up to a barrier keeping folks away from the sudden edges of the bluff. It was beautiful up there. I could see the wind-and-water shaped rocks. Water crashed against the rocks and flowed through caves and channels. The combination of blowing sand, surf, and rain brought a chill to my body. The sand up here was very cold, puddly, and hard. My feet were frozen.cape kiwanda colors-PANO.jpg

I ran down this hill all the way to the beach and then hightailed it to the car.

I imagine these places see lots of visitors on clear, sunny days. I felt fortunate to have experienced these gorgeous vistas in off-season conditions, and I highly recommend a trip here to anyone passing through the north/central Oregon coast.

Corvallis Snow Trek

February 8, 2014.

Click for trip photos and an overview map.


It was a rare opportunity: snow was falling in Corvallis, Oregon. I had to get out and explore.

On Thursday, the snow began coming down. I drove to my morning appointment as usual, and there was only about an inch of white stuff on the ground. Later, several more inches fell, and I switched to walking to get around town. Not trusting the drivers on the road, I felt much safer. It was pretty, but people were less excited about the weather since we’d just gone through this in December. I, on the other hand, was overjoyed, especially since the next day’s forecast called for much more snow. Now certainly I’m no stranger to snow, and the snowfall amounts were nothing extraordinary…for New England. But here in the Willamette Valley, snow accumulation was something of an oddity. We’d had another surprise snowstorm just a couple months earlier that shut down schools and created icy roads for nearly a week. But typical years will see only a dusting of snow, if that, and then it’s back to business as usual.

I arose early on Friday with a plan: I’d snowshoe around Corvallis, linking up several parks by foot, aiming for a minimum of 14 miles before ending up back where I began, on the waterfront in downtown.


My trek began at the free parking lot at the south end of downtown Corvallis. From here, I headed straight for the bike path that took me briefly along the Willamette River, then past the skate park and along Marys River. I followed the bike path as it paralleled highway 20, watching the occasional car carefully drive by. Then the path dipped south and west away from the main road, through pockets of forests and manicured parks. Here, I encountered a jogger, a skier, and little else. As I passed through Starker Arts Park, I noticed a man in the pavilion across the pond. It looked like he was doing the moonwalk in combination with an entire dance routine that he was totally into. Strangely compelling, it was hard to stop staring and walk away. The weather inspires all of us just a little bit differently.

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Past the parks and back on the main road, I approached my first stop: Imagine Coffee. It was packed with people, and the baristas were doing all they could to keep up with the orders. I wolfed down a scone while waiting for my coffee, knowing I’d need all the calories I could pack in today.

The next stop on my agenda was Bald Hill. It was a long, straight road walk north to reach the park. I truly appreciated my snowshoes here, as the snow was less well packed down than in places closer to downtown. I cruised along, admiring the snow-covered landscape and feeling cozy in my smartwool top and fleecy pants (usually reserved for out-of-town adventures).

At the fairgrounds I turned right and picked up the Midge Cramer Path. I started seeing more cross-country skiers and a couple of snowshoers out and about. This path led me right into Bald Hill Natural Area, where I’d pick up my high-point of the day.

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On my way to the top, I passed just one skier on his way down. Most people, it appeared, were sticking to the level trails. I enjoyed the solitude, and was happy to share my space with flocks of thrushes flitting about in the trees.

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The snow was still falling steadily at the top of Bald Hill, obscuring any views. I trod back down and detoured into the big, barn-like shelter at its base. Shielded from the falling snow, I took off my backpack, made some Del’s frozen snow-lemonade and ate my lunch. Soon after, a herd of college kids with snowboards on their back headed up to make a couple of runs off the back side of the hill at the shelter.

I couldn’t believe how cold I was getting just standing around for that 30 minutes. As it turned out, I’d been working pretty hard to shuffle through the snow. With frozen hands I packed up and headed back down to the flat path leading to the Oak Creek entrance of the park.

Just before reaching the parking lot, I herd some puffing and whinnying. I looked up to see a woman on a horse, getting ready to pull a sled with one passenger behind. I stopped to grab my camera, and before I looked back up the horse began galloping full speed ahead along the trail. It blazed by me, sled passenger screaming with joy, then came to a complete stop and sauntered back. Another man anxiously waited his turn to go for a ride. The whole scenario was hilarious.

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I left the park and walked down Oak Creek Road towards campus. This was a long, relaxing stretch through rural farmland. Huge rows of oak trees stood grandiose over flat, snowy fields. I efficiently re-warmed my body by putting in fresh tracks in untouched snow along the roadside. Once back at 53rd street, I turned south to pick up the campus way bike path.

The bike path turned out to be a popular destination for the afternoon. Plenty of cheery, rosy faces passed me by as I blazed east to get back to civilized Corvallis. I chuckled as I passed the snow-topped solar panel farm. All the animals that were usually out grazing in the fields must have been taken inside; there were no cows, llamas or sheep dotting the countryside as usual.


Oregon State University had been closed for two days, so campus was unusually quiet. Certain sidewalks were clearer than others, so the snowshoes came in handy once again. I cut diagonally across campus to get to 15th street, which would take me into South Town.

Crossing Marys River on the 15th St bridge was beautiful. I’d hoped to go next into Avery Park to take photos of the dinosaur bones and train covered in glittery snow. But the park was packed with people of all ages walking up one of the few hills in town and sledding down. It felt rather un-photogenic and I was starting to feel all the miles behind me, so I just kept walking.

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The last park on my list was Willamette Park, where I hoped to find excellent views of the river and trees. To get there, I had to walk along Crystal Lake Drive. Clearly the people of south town were not getting out as much as folks throughout the rest of the city, since the sidewalks were totally snowed in. With heavy legs I pushed through deep snow all the way to the park. Here, the parking lot was buzzing with vehicles. Not a good sign. The park was full of people walking or skiing with their dogs, and apparently they hadn’t thought to walk to the park, just in the parkI’d pretty much decided then that I wouldn’t traverse the length of the part, since I knew my patience with hordes of dogs was pretty low.

But, I’m really glad I made it there, or I would have missed this: a man in a wooden canoe on the river’s edge, playing a harmonica. It was so pretty and funny and awesome all at the same time. I regret that I didn’t wander down for a photo and a chat. I’ll blame it on the tiredness.

I took a side path from the main drag just to get away from all the people, and found myself at a dead end with a thicket of gnarled shrubs surrounding me. Here, I turned around for the final push to downtown.

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The snow, which was falling consistently all day, was still coming down. Visions of beer and food began infiltrating my thoughts. I knew it was time to bring it in. I was happy to go back the way I came, through the snow I’d already compacted. I retraced my steps back up Crystal Lake drive and then turned right along 99E. The sidewalk would connect to the bike path leading into downtown. The contrast of the snow, trees, and rivers with the built elements of the city were stunning. Once I reached the waterfront, I was singly focused on reaching Cloud & Kelly’s Pub for happy hour.

It felt amazing to take off my snowshoes and wet gloves to sit down and polish off a bowl of mac and cheese with a pint of porter. Here I gave my body a bit of a rest before casually walking back home during the early evening hour, watching as the dimming light brought out new colors and contrast in the buildings and snow sculptures throughout town.


It was a rare opportunity to see much of Corvallis by foot in these peculiar weather conditions. I just hope I don’t have to do it again soon.

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Here’s an overview map of the loop, minus the trip to and from my house. Click to view the larger image:

corvallis snow walk map