The hike from Whitewater Trailhead up to Jefferson Park through the Sentinel Hills is nothing short of amazing. It's a gorgeous, gentle climb on a very maintained trail that takes you from some pretty dense forest all the way to the subalpine ecoregion on the north side of Mount Jefferson. That said, it is lengthy, and after carrying the lad for about 3/4 of the entire way, I really understood why so many folks were backpacking along the banks of Scout Lake, Bays Lake, and Rock Lake!

With a lovely day in front of us, Trail-Son and I hoofed it many miles, flirting with Mount Jefferson the entire way. Along every single turn of the trail, that lovely mountain was right there saying hello. Mount Jefferson and Three Fingered Jack are the lad's favorite mountains, so it was really amazing to watch him "interact" with one of the two in such a close proximity. At one point, we could hear the water flow coming off of the area around the Jefferson Park Glacier, and I could have sworn the lad was having a full conversation with the mountain in response.

In another really awesome turn of events, the wee one has officially hiked part of the Pacific Crest Trail (~ 1% of the Oregon stretch)!

I learned the hard way on this trip that the few pounds that he has packed on this summer makes all of the difference with regard to carrying him up on my shoulders when he gets worn out. Granted, 15 miles will do that to you, but I hit Craigslist the next day and procured an amazing Kelty Kids FC 3.0 carrier from an awesome family that had put it through its paces in the Sierra Nevada. While the boy will get to use it for (maybe) the next year, it will definitely be ready for Trail-Daughter next summer and give my poor shoulders a bit of relief.

I could write about every step of this beautiful trail, but I'm just going to let a few pictures tell the tale. If you're up for a little bit of a crowd and either a long day hike or a really reasonable backpacking destination, this may be one of the best choices I've run across.

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.

Abiqua Falls was one of those places that I read about again and again during my research of waterfalls around the Santiam State Forest, and it always left me wanting to make my way there. Noted as a tough place to reach, it wasn't until this past weekend that the boy and I went for it and threw caution to the wind.

With noon approaching on a Saturday afternoon, it was time to scramble and collect our gear. Everything was in order. I just wish the same could have been said for most every other decision I made afterward.

I rarely depend on Google Maps or GPS for directions to trailheads, but for some insane reason I chose this trip to begin with such a folly. The directions landed us on some logged mountainsides' forest roads, and we decided that some some wandering around on the nearby land was in order. According to the GPS, we were 1.3 kilometers away from Abiqua Falls, just on the bloody wrong side of the canyon. Trotting through that much private land and terrain changes has no appeal to me, so we took pictures of our current situation, took a few moments of silence around a roadside memorial, and returned to the car.

Whipping the car back down to Silverton and over to Scotts Mills, we hit a favorite road of ours, Crooked Finger Road, and followed the directions I should have utilized in the first place. After the pavement ended and we took the right at CF300, the road got a little rough as we cruised downhill.

I read multiple trip reports of people who said that the road down to Abiqua Falls could be traversed by a passenger car.

Well, yes, it could be done. That does not imply it should be done, but we did it anyway. That road truly eats passenger cars for breakfast, as evident by the blown out bits of rubber every half-mile or so. Luckily, we made it safely.

I recalled that you walk back from where you park and cruise down the trail. What I conveniently forgot was the part about ignoring the first trail down and taking the second that was 50-100 feet further down the road.  With the boy on my shoulders, we began traversing our way straight down the mountainside toward Abiqua Creek. The trail all but ended, and we hung tight with the slope. I never felt worried about the lad's safety during our descent, but my legs were nowhere near as accepting.

At one point, we found a 25-foot clearing that was largely free of rocks and slid down. Remember, I wasn't aware of the second trail at this point and was completely dreading the return up the mountain. "So this is why the hike was listed as not family friendly," I thought to myself, sprinkled with expletives under my breath that nobody but my conscience would hear.

My boy was having a blast throughout all of this. There was only one spot that scared him, and that was when I slipped on a lone rock and drove my knee and elbow into the ground while keeping him stabilized. Despite being shaken up for that brief moment, he was ready to throw rocks into the creek once we were at the water. The moment was taken to wash my wounds and let him skip some stones. A few sips of water, and we were trucking along the creek and heading upstream toward the falls.

There was absolutely no trail at this point, so we just did our best cruising up and over the fallen trees, boulders, and miscellaneous riparian buffer obstacles. After what felt like a couple thousand feet, we finally hit the actual trail, and it was at this point I noticed the ropes leading back up. My heart sang, and we hadn't even seen the main event. Once we hit the main trail, it was pure fun ducking under or hopping over a couple of trunks.

When you hear the falls just ahead, it does not prepare you for the grandeur that awaits. To turn the corner around the creek and land in the most perfect basaltic amphitheater, with Abiqua Falls crashing down in the center, a sense of absolute wonder overtook both of us. I hooted, he hollered. Hours were spent down there, playing with rocks, talking about basaltic columns, algae and moss, erosion, and a million other things that need to be discussed when you're a four-year-old.

When it was time to go, we stuck to the proper trail and utilized every inch of rope provided by some kind souls for the trek back up. The lad did great for a bit, but did end up back on my shoulders for a good chunk of the climb. He's getting heavier by the day, but this was one of those spots where I wanted him up there safe and sound.

We got back to my car, and the parking area was as empty when we left as it was when we arrived. After making it back over the hellacious road up the mountain without a flat tire or broken suspension, we enjoyed a beautiful drive through the backroads of the valley.

Even with the botched initial directions, boulder-dodging on the road, and poor trail choice on the way down, I would do this again and again the same way if need be. Abiqua Falls may be one of my absolutely favorite spots in all of Oregon now. Many thanks to the Mount Angel Abbey for letting us enjoy such splendor on their land.