The Columbia River Gorge National Scenic Area is of incomparable natural beauty. There is so much packed into such a small area. My personal experience with the Gorge started with visiting big-ticket attractions, such as Multnomah Falls (standing at 620 feet high) and the many nearby waterfalls, such as Horsetail, Latourell, Bridal Veil, and Wahkeena Falls along or near Historic Highway 30. An architectural gem, the Vista House, a historic rest stop perched high atop the Gorge, offers take-your-breath-away views down the Columbia River and the Gorge. All of these became part of a standard tour we offered to our friends and family who came to visit. They were stunning attractions, but they were almost always crowded with people, and it was difficult to find parking.
I started off with several smaller hikes in the Gorge, typically just off Oregon Highway 30/Interstate 84 and Washington Highway 14, two east/west concrete ribbons that line and wind with the Columbia River. The first time I hiked, I was taken aback by the number of people on the trail and the smell of dog waste. People so heavily used the trail, many of whom did not pick up after their dogs, and it was an unpleasant experience. I chose another trail that was considered a must-do hike and was met with a similar condition. I varied the time that I went on the trails, and that helped somewhat. I inadvertently discovered peak times for trail use when I could not get to the trail because no parking was available. I learned the hard way when I traveled to several trails only to be turned away because there was no parking. People often parked, jamming cars and recreational vehicles off-road into the brush and woods, necessitating a hike to the hiking trail. I noticed well-worn trails leading off the main trails to less crowded places to view a canyon, a creek, a scenic vista of the Columbia River, or a waterfall. And then I saw people trampling over the brush to cut new trails from the illicit trails originally created to escape the crowds.
And so many people out on the hiking trail seemed oblivious to the natural beauty that surrounded them, often engaged in loud and long conversations about personal matters. They showed up in flip-flops to walk a narrow canyon trail (dangerous). They let their dogs run loose and had a general disregard for anyone but themselves.
I was discouraged by this behavior and sought to get away from it. And unknowingly, I started to become one of them. It started innocuously enough. Friends were visiting from out of town, and I had a tour of the waterfalls that I had to take them on and a schedule to keep. The problem was that there were no parking spaces at many of the waterfalls. Again, too many people. So, I parked up off the road, pulling off the shoulder onto a moss and leaf-littered transition zone between a man-made road and a wild forest. I knew that was illegal. I rationalized to myself why I should be allowed an exception. And I did it again and again that day.
The exception became the rule. Sometimes, I did not even bother looking for a parking space. I simply created my own. I started getting 'off the beaten path' on trails to find the one-of-a-kind river vistas. I went off trail once to catch a picture of an uphill sweep of wildflowers, trampling on wildflowers to get the picture. I climbed down closed areas to get to the base of a waterfall, climbed into the shower of the falls, and sat in the backwater pools of rivers on sandy bottoms that may have likely been salmon habitat. I used to say that doing it once will not hurt anything permanently. People do a lot worse things than me. I never did that. Or I used to say that everyone else is doing it, so why not me?
Rationalizing my behavior eventually stopped. I just did what I pleased. I had become one of the outdoor recreationists I detested, selfish and self-centered. It was all about me and what I wanted to experience, the momentary thrill without considering the cost I was inflicting on the natural and cultural environments and the people who chose to recreate respectfully and responsibly. I went deeper into the forest on hikes to get away from the people whose behavior I now modeled. And I undoubtedly contributed to a downward spiral of environmental degradation in some of those areas.
Thank goodness that was short-lived. My awakening, in part, came from a tribal conference my work organization convened with the four Tribal Nations in the Gorge that had Treaty rights to the river. I listened to their stories of environmental damage and the degradation of ancient cultural sites that were important to their heritage caused, in no small way, by wanton disregard of people recreating irresponsibly, chasing the next adrenaline rush.
It was sobering to realize that I was part of that destruction and that I had developed a disconnect between my individual actions and the negative effects I was having on the greater whole. It was a wake-up call personally to understand how I can believe fervently in something and then act out in ways that negate that belief, sometimes with complete awareness of it and sometimes not. I have amended how I interact with the natural environment, respecting it as a living organism that I am a part of and acting as my responsibility to honor and nurture it.
From this journey of environmental awareness, I try to be much more self-aware in all aspects of my life. I try to be more present about who I am, what I am doing, and the consequences of my actions on others and the environment in which I live. I have heard the concept expressed in many ways. Don't just talk the talk; you must walk the walk. Is my head where my feet are?
Aristotle, the Greek philosopher who lived over 1,000 years ago, put it best in this timeless quote, “Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.”
This story was originally published on August 28, 2021.
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