Falling for Oregon and the Turbulent Stories Behind Her Beauty

(And you better pronounce it like the locals: OR-eh-guhn.)

We were brand-new arrivals to Oregon from Los Angeles and eager to explore the Pacific Northwest. My husband and I were younger and kid-free as we zipped down Highway 84 in our black BMW still sporting its California plates.

Though Oregon isn’t exactly known for its sunny days, we do have them, and they are spectacular. This was one of those days. And we were off to see one of the wonders of our new state — Multnomah Falls.

In the next lane a white pick-up truck was driving parallel to us, not passing, clearly begging us to look at it. I turn to see a cute dog in the back seat:

“Aw look, honey.”

And just as my husband can catch a glimpse from behind the wheel, the driver of the pickup stares us directly in the eyes and puts his hand in the shape of a gun pulling a trigger.

WTF?

Then he speeds along ahead of us.

After taking a moment to get over the shock, it dawned on us. The pickup driver saw us as one of those California invaders, or Californicators. I’m sure the black sports car didn’t help.

It was not a very nice welcome to what was otherwise a very welcome move from Los Angeles. We’d later learn that while tourists are appreciated, Oregon tries to keep “invaders” at bay.

Cascadian Contradictions: Past and Present

Shortly after the “gun greeting,” we began the transformation into our Portlandia way of life. Twenty years and two kids later, our sports car is long gone, having been traded in for a Prius. We are now full-fledged, fleece-wearing Oregonians (Or-eh-GO-knee-ins).

Since we live a half hour away from iconic Multnomah Falls, it’s the go-to place we bring visitors. Being a top tourist attraction — up there with Crater Lake and tax-free shopping — it never disappoints.

The lushness of the Pacific Northwest (aka Cascadia) is one of the things that drew us here. And waterfalls in particular, I’ve always loved them. They are a type of paradox — fixed in place, yet constantly in motion. The sound is soothing. They have a powerful energy about them. It was worth “invading” Oregon for the landscape alone.

Discovering our home state over the years has often come with mixed emotions, however. Oregon itself is very “blue.” In American political terms, this means the majority vote in the state — and particularly its largest city where we live — is more progressive, and welcoming of a broad range of diversity. Yet, despite its present progressiveness, Oregon has a very racist and exclusionary past.

It was founded as a state that didn’t allow slavery — but it didn’t allow black people either. Its shameful, racist past includes a history of stealing land from indigenous people and abusing them, rioting against Chinese immigrant workers, being home to one of the largest chapters of the KKK, and well, you get the idea. And to be clear, Oregon is far from alone in having a racist history.

But while we’ve lived here, my city of Portland has been very noisy and active about healing the sins of the past, particularly in the summer of 2020 during the massive wave of Black Lives Matter protests . Most of the more rural parts of the state continue to resist this progressivism, however. So, like waterfalls being both still and in perpetual motion, this wildly diverse social climate is another kind of contradiction.

A New Waterfall, A New Story

Referring to our city’s national reputation, which has taken a dive in recent years, we’ve learned to live with the good, bad, and the ugly. One way my husband and I keep from getting stuck in the cascade of contradictions is to continue exploring Oregon.

It wasn’t until about a year and a half ago that we discovered Silver Falls State Park. We took a day off to hike in what we’d been told was a hidden jewel in Oregon— and only 60 miles from Portland. It was a welcome fresh-air escape from the home office.

We did a seven-mile loop hike that brought us through moss covered trees, lush rainforest greenery and…waterfalls. One was magical. It cascaded over a small cave you could hike into and sit behind the falling water.

When I took the pano shot below, I noticed how from within the cave it looked like I was sitting behind an eye, looking outward. That vantage point was the perfect spot to reflect upon our life in Oregon after 21 years.

I thought about who else had seen this beauty. The Kalapuya and Mollala peoples had lived there for millennia, before Western men “discovered” it in 1811. I hoped it was always a place that exuded the peacefulness I experienced in those moments.

Although I’ve done my share of hiking in Oregon over the years, that day was the first time I could be still for a while behind a waterfall. It felt like I was woven into the earth, part of all life — not simply a human admiring a beautiful piece of the planet.

Enveloped by the falls and the sound of rushing water, layered with the wind whistling through the trees, the place spoke volumes. Behind this omniscient eye, I swear I heard whispers from the earth:

I don’t care who you are,

what you look like,

where you come from,

how you vote,

or about the sins of your past

— just please, take care of me,

so I can take care of you.

If you ever have a chance to hang out behind a waterfall, listen closely. Maybe the earth will whisper its wisdom to you.

Thanks to fellow Globetrotter writers:

Jessie Vee for the reminder to explore my own backyard:

and Vincent Gragnani for the nudge to plan an epic train ride: