How I Fell in Love with Wallowa Lake

For four weeks this summer, I was fortunate to have a sabbatical from my job as Development Director with OLCV.  I decided to spend most of my time off in a part of the state I’d been eager to visit, but never had: the Wallowas, in northeastern Oregon.

I decided this would be a solo journey, with my dog Porkchop as my only companion.  Planning months in advance, I imagined Chops and I backpacking among pristine alpine lakes, camping in meadows and breathing in the solitude and beauty of the backcountry.  I imagined rugged hikes up steep canyon walls and the sense of adventure and accomplishment that comes with camping alone in the wilderness.

Then I sprained my ankle.

It happened in April, so I thought I’d have plenty of time to recover. But I was just getting out of my ankle brace in early July, only two weeks before I was supposed to leave.  I decided to forge ahead with my plans, realizing that my fantasy of solo adventure would need to be adjusted somewhat.

As I drove east, watching the landscape change from rough gorge to rolling hills, inhaling the scent of the peppermint farms outside of Pendleton, I found myself falling in love with Oregon all over again.  Surely there is no state as diverse and beautiful as ours, I thought.  I was already puffed up with pride – and then I arrived in the gorgeous, rugged landscape of the Wallowas. 

For two weeks I explored what I could of the area, frustratingly limited by my weakened ankle. But even though I couldn’t hike longer than six miles, or down very steep hills, I was stunned by the beauty and the wildness I encountered: 

Bear Creek (pictured right), in the Eagle Cap Wilderness, where a short trail takes you through a burn to a beautiful, freezing pool (and then on for miles).

Hurricane Creek in the Wallowa-Whitman National Forest, (that's Porkcop and me on the trail, above) where I saw evidence of powerful winter washouts that flattened huge chunks of forest, on a trail lined by hundreds of delicate wildflowers. 

And Hells Canyon, the deepest river gorge in North America, affording views of Idaho’s Seven Devils, the gradation of color deepening as the peaks disappear behind each other.

As it was late July, by mid-day it was very hot, and the sun seemed to stay directly above us for hours.  This made my black dog very uncomfortable, so Chops and I took to swimming in Wallowa Lake nearly every day.  It became our refuge. One day, a bald eagle swooped down 100 yards from us, picked up a foot-long fish, and pumped its wings as hard as it could to lift itself above the lake surface with its heavy prey.  Its destination was one of the massive snags standing at the end of the lake just near us, where three juvenile bald eagles eagerly waited at the top.  Alas, the fish was too heavy, and near the end of its arc the eagle was forced to drop the fish on the rocks, its head nearly severed from its body by the bird’s talons. 

I’m not sure I breathed at all this entire time.  I looked around me at the other swimmers.  Those who also witnessed it stood with mouths agape, eyes wide, totally still.  To be in the presence of such majesty – without even hiking to get there – sums up my entire trip in one scene.  I feel lucky to have gone there, and I can’t wait to get back.

--Molly Kramer, OLCV Development Director