The Adventures of Bilbo Doggins

Once there was a girl. And the girl had a dog. And the girl loved the dog. And the dog loved the girl.


From Dog Fancy, July 2001

Blaze you own Oregon Trail:
Bilbo the eager AmStaff leads his pack up the Columbia River Gorge
By Holly Goodman Carpenter

If Bilbo were navigating this trip, he'd turn off he meandering Historic Columbia River Highway for the less remarkable Interstate 84 - a shortcut to the heart of his getaway: a five-mile romp through the woods, creeks, and waterfalls of the Columbia River Gorge.

What a tease it is when we follow the graceful two-lane road alongthe Sandy RIver, slowing to watch fisherman cast but not stopping for a swim. Bilbo, my intrepid 4-year-old American Staffordshire Terrier, shoves his brindle snout out the back window and sucks in the damp air. A wag starts in his tail, flows through his body, and build to an excited dance as we climg through the Oregon countryside.

He knows exactly where we are headed as we round the bend ti a sublime vista 700 feet above the Columbia River. The highway snakes down the demsley forested basalt walls of the gorge, passing under bulging fern-covered rock outcrops. Moss covers the guardrails, creating continuity with the landscape. It is as organic as a road can be.

Beyond the bridge spanning Shepperd's Dell State PArk, we stop for a short walk to the bottom of a waterfall that plunges into a pool where Bilbo balances on a rock working to pull a stick - a log really - from the water. Now the trip is getting good. But, it's a false start. Bilbo reluctantly resumes is spot in the back of the Saab.

THe falls come one after another: Bridal Vail, Wahkeena, and the grandmother of them all, Multnomah, plunging an awe-inspiring 620 feet. They are a tiny sampling of the tumbling waters that comprise one of the planet's most dense collection of waterfalls.

We stop at the last in the string, Horsetail Falls. Out come the water bottles, hip packs and trail mix that signify this, at last, is the real deal. We have reached Bilbo's road, a well-maintained that begins near the base of the falls and climbs up the gorge.

Bilbo is built for the forest: quick, compact, camoflouge and agile. He leads us up the dirt trail that switchbacks through dense fern, towering conifers, and velvety moss-covered deciduous trees, We hike to the top of the falls along Horsetail Creek, behind Ponytail Falls, out along the edge of the gorge, then across Oneonta Gorge _ a narrow chasm covered with endemic wildflowers. We pick up Oneonta trail and follow that creek higher until i collapse - 2 1/2 miles and 1,100 vertical feet later - before Triple Falls.

Bilbo wants more. He circles as my hustband and I make a small picnic. Bilbo would gladly continue guiding us along the network of trails that stretches to the summit of Larch Mountain, but my legs will not climb another 3,000 feet.

Back in the car and less than a mile down the historic highway, we reach its confluence with I-84. No longer with concerned with our route, Bilbo curls up in the back, dreaming of furhter adventures befitting a hobbit. Or, at least, befitting a dog named after one.

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Fare thee well, Meatball Boy. Baby, baby dog.

twelve hours and twenty-eight minutes Sunday.
Tri-Met doesn't do the gorge.