Cline Falls

The waters of the Deschutes River run north on their way to the Columbia River and then on to the Pacific Ocean.  The water passes our little town just about three miles west of our house and there is a state park beside the river at a place called Cline Falls. 

Carolyn and I, having spent several hours in Doggie Heaven over the course of the last few sunny days, wanted a change of scenery and went to this little park yesterday.  It is a gorgeous place that reminds me of a secluded spot in Yosemite along the Merced River.  Beautiful, serene, and paradise are words that come to mind but all of these have become trite and are essentially meaningless these days.  We need some new superlatives along with rules that allow a person to use each of the words only twelve times in their entire lifetime.

We spent a couple of hours walking along the river and in the larger park.  It was almost deserted.  There was a guy tossing a stick into the water so his black Labrador could retrieve it.  Another couple and their child were feeding a pair of swans at the river bank.  After Carolyn got tired we came back home.  I was charmed by the little place and wanted to know a little more about it.  Google is my friend and it's much  closer than the library.

I learned a birdman lived there for quite some time starting in the mid nineteen forty's until his health declined in 1995.  He was a hermit who lived alone without a job, running water or electricity.  People around town knew him but were unsure of his name - he had several of them, none of which sounded even close to the others.  One thing the townsfolk did know about him though, he could call birds.  He would extend his arms, raise both his hands palms up, and call for the birds.  They would come to him and land in his arms no matter if he were beside the river he loved or in the middle of town.  Towards the end of the time he lived alone entire classes of school children would be taken to meet him and to witness his ability.  He touched the lives of many in the town and when he could no longer live alone he was placed in a nursing home.  His stay was paid in full by donations from people he had inspired for so long.

I also learned of an axeman that had visited the scene.  Two college girls were biking on a trip across the country and stopped to spend the night in this little place.  A truck driven by a crazed man in a cowboy hat ran over their tent in the middle of the night.  The cowboy then got out of his truck and started hacking them with an axe.   They were lucky to have survived and so was he. He has gone undetected and unpunished to this day.  Here's a scary thought - he may still be walking around the town in which we live.  A book about the incident, "Strange Piece of Paradise,"  was written by one of the victims.

Amazing what can occur in one small place on this planet, and no matter what has happened in that park beside the river, it's beauty remains.