My son and I left our house at four in the morning, and his chipper demeanor at such an ungodly hour of being woken up surprised me to no end. While I was struggling to make coffee for the drive, he was bright-eyed and getting dressed. In short order, we were loading the car up and heading toward the Oregon Coast surrounded in darkness.

By the time we reached Knight Park, the sun had just started showing itself, bathing everything in a beautiful glow. We made our way throughout the initial hiking trails, listening to hundreds of birds chattering away. The trail dives a bit into plantation forest, popping up again for a little roadside hugging, and then begins the uphill descent at what appeared to be the original trailhead.

Before much longer, we were feasting on salmonberries and stalking flowers with the camera. The floral varieties were absolutely amazing, and more pictures of them may be found here.

One of the lessons I have solidly acquired during the past couple of years of hiking with my son is that you must always be prepared for ten-, twenty-, or thirty-minute intermissions when a new critter is found. On this hike, he spent the better part of that time observing (and gently petting) a millipede that was crossing the trail. There are fewer things in the world more peaceful than watching his eyes light up with amazement during such bouts of curiosity.

The trail through the forest was heavily root-laden, so do consider your ankles when making your way through the area. There are several very recent-looking bridges that cross streams during this section of the hike.

Upon breaking free of the Sitka hemlock, Douglas-fir, and red alder, we came upon our first major ocean views and the absolutely stunning prairie headlands. The trail here is rather thin with some deeply cut edging, so again, keep those ankles safe!

After making our way through several switchbacks, we found ourselves near the summit of the prairie. Nearby cliffs showcase the beauty of the shore below, but the posted warnings are absolutely worthwhile. With gusts of wind periodically kicking up, I can't imagine anyone being of sound mind that would stand close to those edges. I held onto the boy more tightly than usual as we passed the area.

In an interesting twist, we met our first hiker on the trail at this point. He was a really nice guy, who was admiring the boy's appearance out there. Then he dropped the bombshell on us that he has made the hike over 1,600 times! We joked about him knowing every Oregon silver spot butterfly by name, and then went our merry way.

Past the prairie summit and along the north side of the ridge, the trail is immediately swallowed up in forest. Hiking along what seems to be an old road, we made our way through the cool trees and had another ample opportunity to gorge on salmonberries. Within a mile or so, we found ourselves at the Upper trailhead. Signs were posted that no further exploration was allowed until after July 15th, which put us a few days out. We will definitely be back that way to explore Hart's Cove!

I hoisted the boy upon my shoulders and we returned from whence we came. I was absolutely amazed that he was able to hike four miles during this trek, and all of them the uphill portion. I thought that I would surely be carrying him for at least 5 or 6 miles of the hike, but his tenacity broke my assumption. On the way down, we took a few more pictures and spent some extra time gazing out at the ocean as we nibbled on some snacks.

By the time we got back to Knight Park, the masses were descending on the trail. I can't exclaim how happy I was that we got out there at the time we did. It was cool and isolated, allowing us to block the trail to watch millipedes march or garter snakes slither into the grass.

Cascade Head truly is a beautiful place, and reading about the ecosystems and research that comes from the area only heightens my appreciation. The next time I see thinned forests or read about estuary health for anadromous fish, I will be thinking of the natural beauty and science that occurs in that magical area.

This beautiful Oregon State Park is a bit on the young side, officially opened in July, 2007. Whether your thing is hiking, biking, horses, relaxing, or disc golf, this 1,500+ acre park has got you covered.

Today was all about National Trails Day at Stub Stewart State Park. The boy and I began the morning bright and early making our way to the park, and upon arrival, eating our breakfast and signing in for a joint trail maintenance venture between Oregon State Parks and REI. We even received some slick volunteer t-shirts with the phrase "Get Dirty" plastered across the front. 

After logging many, many miles upon the state's trails over the past couple of years, the timing felt right to show the lad what was behind the magic of every inch of trail we step upon. A refresher for myself was not a bad thing either!

I couldn't have been more thrilled with how things turned out. Our amazing hosts, Rangers Steve and Brandon, were phenomenal and instrumental in getting the most knowledge parlayed into our little group in a short amount of time, including personal and group safety, the lingo behind cutting trails, a breakdown of tools for the job, and the ecology of the park. 

When it was time to throw on the gloves and start maintaining some of the trails around Matchcutter's Lane, we stood at a crossroads around our instrument of choice: Loppers, a Pulaski, a hoe, a McLeod, or a mattock? Considering the boy is still the tender age of four, we went with the responsible choice of a hoe. I think neighboring volunteers breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing our choice.

Ranger Steve provided really solid lessons around drainage concerns, troubles with switchback cutters, the beauty of Oregon soil, forty-five degree backslopes, how to broadcast our organic materials, and more safety tips throughout the exercise. I will never forget the multiple times when the Ranger stomped his foot on the soil for effect, and the lad followed suit and did the same.

After having lots of experiences running into park rangers on the trails or at lookouts, this time it was definitely having an impact on the little guy. Age? Rapport? Definitely both.

The lad was able to experience a little bit of hard work, but mostly got to enjoy the immediate fruits of the labor: bugs and burrows. In the cutest manner, he would ask Range Steve a question each time he came across something new, be it a termite, an ant, or a vole burrow. 

While we weren't on that stretch for the longest time, the unspoken camaraderie between volunteers was excellent. Everyone filled in where needed, patching missed points or grooming forgotten pieces of the trail. Soon enough, we ventured down the way and past the intersection of Barberchair Trail. This stretch of trail had some good stumps therein, and we set to work maintaining the areas around the stumps. Naturally, our gear wasn't going to be doing any of the heavy work needed to deal with those bad boys.

Ranger Brandon gave us some insights into how that work would be done, and told us about some of his experiences working on the Banks-Vernonia Trail. I can't wait to do that whole trail, and you can bet I'll be thanking that man throughout it.

When the time for the activity wrapped up, we hiked back up to the hilltop day-use area and returned our tools (one-at-a-time of course). Pictures were taken and everyone went their own way, preparing for the forthcoming National Trails Day festivities.

The boy and I grabbed some bites to eat, and made our way through the nearby trails. It is a gorgeous park, and the trails were a blast to traverse, namely because of the varying ages of the surrounding Douglas firs. Some stretches are just a couple of decades old, while others have a little more age amongst them. 

The lupine, in multiple colors, was in full force among the grassy areas, which was a tranquil escape. We passed family after family, which really speaks to the appeal of this area for the little ones.

In a pleasant turn of events, we actually found ourselves returning along the same route that included the areas we had just helped work on. The little guy beamed with some pride when I showed him each area. Score.

When we finally got back to the picnic area, the festivities were in full effect. The lad cashed in on shwag, namely a carabiner (REI) that now lives on his hiking pack, a water bottle (Equestrian Society), and countless stickers. While he got to observe solar flares courtesy of an OMSI booth, I was able to sink my teeth into some amazing GIS work provided by the Upper and Lower Nehalem Watershed Councils. The blast of activities was rounded out by some disc golf, pelt petting courtesy of Rails to Trails, spore prints by the Oregon Mycological Society, and free sandwiches.

While I was pumped up and ready to continue exploring the park, the poor kiddo had definitely done his share for the day and was ready to head home. As I heavily reflected on the previous week's venture to Marys Peak, it was pretty easy to pack up and plan our return to Stub Stewart for another day.

While we did not get the chance to hit some wild and difficult trails in celebration of National Trails Day, I wouldn't have traded the day at all. It was the lad's first experience with true stewardship in an organized fashion, and the fun he had with the educational outreach programs was top-notch.

I want to thank every single person and organization involved with making our day so amazing. Happy National Trails Day, today and every day hereafter.

Marys Peak is the highest point in the Oregon Coast Range, and is listed as 11th in the state in terms of prominence (vertical distance between summit and  lowest contour). The Peak is historically referenced as a sacred location for the Kalapuya Tribe, where spirit quests were conducted.

While I always thought of it as "Mary's Peak," the correct spelling is indeed "Marys Peak." The reason for this is that the United States Board on Geographic Names stopped using possessive apostrophes in place names back in 1890 in order to not show ownership of geographic features. This is not without debate, as referenced in a recent Wall Street Journal article.

Sometimes you have to bend when you know the odds. Sometimes when the odds are against you, you have to bend. Both scenarios came about today, and I took home some pretty good parenting lessons. I've been planning a big hike up to Marys Peak in the Siuslaw National Forest for nearly a week now. The lad and I were going to trek from Conner's Camp and get to the summit via the East Ridge Trail, Tie Trail, Meadow Edge Trail, and the Summit Trail. Then the weather forecasts started going nuts for the past couple of days. Looks sunny on Sunday according to weather.com, but wunderground.com paints a bleak, wet picture. By the time Saturday night hit, all sources were reporting the latter.

Waking up this morning, I didn't think we'd be going anywhere; It's pretty amazing what small patches of blue in the Oregon skyline does to rational judgement. Gear was hastily packed and I rushed to the store for goodies to feast upon. Getting back home, it was a rush to get boots on and hit the door.

And then something happened that struck me wickedly hard, but in the best of ways; For one of the first times ever, the boy did not complain once about leaving. He was more excited than I was! No whining? To be fair, his usual gripes disappear the second we're in the car. That noted, the absence of whining was just leaving me dizzy and confused. Shaking it off, we hit the road southward for Marys Peak.

Rain and sunshine kept swapping scenes during the drive, giving me hope we would have at least some views at the summit and relative dryness under the canopy when we hit the trail. When we got closer to Corvallis (itself wonderfully dry and sunny), I abandoned all hope when I saw our destination shrouded in dark clouds, a fog mound without the mound. I knew we were playing against the house, but it looked like the weatherman was showing a Queen and we had 16. 

I looked back at the contented boy in the car seat behind me, and then saw myself in the rear-view mirror debating whether or not we should keep driving. The boy doesn't complain at all and is super excited to go hiking, but I'm taking him directly into a den of rain and cold. That has never worked out well, and I'm amazed that our coldest and wettest hike through Salmon Creek didn't extinguish any and all desires of his to be outdoors. Do we stick with the original plan? Shave off a leg or three of the hike? Grab a hot cocoa and call it a day? Maybe it will all disappear once we get up there? Of course, storm winds capable of magically arriving and doing that trick would be a blast to hang out in.

I stopped with the inner dialogue and brought the lad into the fold. I think I'm still getting used to the fact that he is as sharp as he is, and that ownership in these decisions is important for him as well. He wanted to continue, so ahead we went. Driving up the turnoff from the highway toward the Coast, we made our ascent up Marys Peak and into the clouds. All of my plans of starting down the mountain dwindled and we drove up to the campground so that we could hit the Meadow Edge Trail. Upon getting out of the car to go pay our five bucks for the day-use fee, the boy's demeanor went south quickly. Even bundled up, the saturation of mist and bone-chilling wind were too much for him.

He was so excited an hour ago...

It was executive decision time. Make him rough-it, or acquiesce? I put him back in the car and we drove up to the viewpoint. We got out, paid our fee, and the excitement of seeing some snow on the ground overcame anything else that was bringing him down. Some quick snowballs later, we were on our way up to the top.

WIth avalanche lilies, Indian paintbrush, field chickweed, and penstemon popping up along the hike, we had a great time pointing out the different colors. It was a welcome distraction from the cold wind that came and went. Moving up the short hike and passing the other trails we were destined to take before the climate intervened, I had a chance to embrace that he was having a good time despite the weather. Had I pushed him, I can say that this would not have been the case. Score one for parenting.

After passing a couple of folks on their way down, we finally made it to the infamous rock garden near the summit, a lithosolic (weathered rock fragments on steep slopes) community that is on the south-southwestern side of the top. The explosion of flowers in this barren little area is jaw-dropping, especially considering that the area is surrounded by snow above and below.

A few hundred yards later, we were at the summit of the highest point in the Oregon Coast Range. While awesome, our visibility was limited to about 200 feet. Furthermore, the summit offered no protections against the wind. While we could have just turned around, the boy channeled up some desire and asked to go further, especially when he saw a huge patch of snow. We cruised down from the summit and slid around in the snow for a spell. It was a blast, and when he said he was ready to go, I was kind of thrilled because my nippy hands and ears were telling me the same.

A quick jaunt down the trail, and we were back through the meadows and at the observation area parking lot. Before going all the way back to the car, a quick turn was taken and we arrived at a plaque memorializing the Benton County veterans of World War II who never made it home. That was a perfect opportunity to tie in the importance of Memorial Day with my son, and I'm thankful it turned out just as it did.

Back in the car with the heater on, I had a very happy little hiker on my hands. Despite every desire I had to push forward with bigger and better hikes on a day full of rotten weather, I am fully behind the decisions to include him on the eventuality of our plans and to fold things up the way we did. Marys Peak will be there next week, or next month, or next year, and I want a happy lad to enjoy it as much as possible given any conditions. 

Today was the perfect balance achieved by a little bending from both of us, and not an ounce of real complaining.

I think I beat the house this time.

Marys Peak Scenic Botanical Area (Oregon Plants, Oregon Places)
 - A great read! History, geology, and botany, oh my!

Portland Hikers Field Guide - Marys Peak Summit Hike

Wildflowers of Marys Peak Meadows, a Pocket Guide

Peakbagger.com - Marys Peak, Oregon 

The original plan today was to hit the Guler Ice Cave, but that destination was scrapped due to the lad's consideration of its spookiness after seeing some ominous pictures. Rather than ruining spelunking forever for the poor boy, Plan B was enacted. The only problem, there was no Plan B. After some quick searching and scanning online, the crosshairs for today's adventure fell on Cedar Butte Trail in the Tillamook State Forest.

I was a little nervous about this hike, and it wasn't because of the 700' gain in .75 miles. That weighed a bit in the back of my mind, but it was the volume of cars this afternoon at every trailhead on Oregon Route 6 that really had me questioning today's choice of locale. That, coupled with the fact that there was a very recent article in Portland Monthly about the same destination. I just knew that we would get to the trailhead and be greeted by thirty Subarus.

Yeah, I was totally wrong about that. By the time we got up the mountainside on some pretty rough and muddy forest roads, there was not a single soul to be found at the trailhead parking. Guys on dirtbikes cruised by, but it turned out that we were on our own for the entirety of the hike.

Starting out in a pretty open harvested area, the first part of the trail was nice and mellow. Every bit of that terrified me, knowing that we initially had three-quarters of a mile to scramble 700 feet up, and that initial mellowness burned about a quarter of the implied distance. Now, we're talking less distance to deal with the same elevation gain. How fun.

Before hitting the switchbacks that announced nearly vertical climbing (whiny exaggeration, but I did have a 35 pound child atop my shoulders), we got to spend some great time looking at the results of previous burns in the area, and I had a grand time pantomiming the great Tillamook Burn.

Cruising through the closed single canopy forest really highlighted the results and timing of replanting in the area after all of the fires. Once we emerged out of this forest and saw Cedar Butte in the distance, the magic really started. Beargrass, wood sorrel, penstemon, and Indian paintbrush just lit up the place.

One last (and steep) chunk of trail led us to the top of the butte, rewarding us with a true prairie fire of flowers and an ocean of green stretching from our position to the Pacific. A couple of rugged benches provided a nice spot to rest, and we enjoyed a fine lunch - peanut butter burritos, apples, sauteed sausage, and the obligatory granola bars.

In one of my favorite moments of the day, the young'un was quite agitated at the sight of some garbage up on the summit. There was some thick glass broken about and a few food wrappers. For background, he has been saying "bad polluters" every time we come across rogue garbage littered anywhere. He asked me if he could talk to them about what they did, and I said, "Sure, Kiddo." He stepped away from me and toward the edge, yelling at the top of his lungs, "Bad polluters! Stop leaving your things on the ground!" as though all of them would hear him from way up there. We picked up what we could, and I was left beaming about the righteous anger he expressed.

All told, that lowly little 0.75 miles took us the better part of an hour to climb. We took lots of pictures along the way, but it is definitely a testament to the elevation gain. On the other hand, the way down may have been twenty minutes or so.

Short and sweet and sweaty. This was a really grand hike that has bitten me with desires to tackle some more of the Tillamook State Forest. I think Elk Mountain is off the table with the lad's presence, but I'm sure we'll figure out some appropriate places to hit