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Sometimes... (The Grotto and Rocky Butte)

Posted by Stevefromdodge (2007-09-21)
I'm going to drift off topic here for a bit. I hope you'll indulge me on a Friday afternoon.


Hiking is often about getaways, but getaways aren't always about hiking. There are quiet, hidden little getaways right in the city. Two of those are at Rocky Butte. Sometimes, I really need a quick walk alone, yet with people I know.

On the north side is "The Grotto", a religious area tended by the Catholic Church. Here a paved walkway leads contemplative modern walkers passed copper depictions of a last hike 2000 years ago. People come here to stroll, to pray or just to sort the cobwebs out of over-busy minds.







The theme here is remembering. Remembering the last steps of Jesus.




Remembering his famous followers like Philip.




and his less famous followers like Edward and Mary.



Wandering among the remembered builds faith and patience. Candles are lit in memory of deceased friends. Behind me a woman is planning a huge wedding, a new start to be celebrated amongst the old memories.




History and memory are tangible things here. If not everyone believes in the passion of Christ, the passion of the believers is undeniable.


Using an old photographer's trick, a bit of overexposure brings a cold white statue to supernatural life.






A few hundred yards to the east lies another world, a world not of memory, but rather a place forgotten. There's a trail here and a rather well traveled one in fact.




It's not a hiking trail, though. It's a trail frequented by an odd mix, rock climbers risking their healthy lives on $1000 ropes and forgotten people looking to hang on to any life they can. If walking near the church brings peace, walking here breeds strength.

There are trails here that rival Ruckel Ridge






Trails that aren't climbed for fun, but just to get home.





If there's understated longing and memory in the Grotto, here the pain is current and often chronic.


The raw emotion is displayed in destruction...



and in creation.






People come here to escape the humdrum with a thrill ride on the cliffs. They come here to swap daily trials for a bit of loneliness. They come here because they have no where left to go. It's a place where cooking over fires isn't rustic and hiking tents aren't carried in packs.


Giant rocks periodically thunder down from above, creating shelter from the weather.




The doorstep views are unparalleled.





There are forgotten relics of people long gone...




and those recently forgotten.






Somehow, evidence of the struggles of others makes my struggles easier to work through. The mere fact that people can survive at this level, inspires me to do more with what I have.

The first time I passed this way was just after my mother passed away. I was surprised by a sudden squall of rain and ambushed by a wave of emotion. I wrote a poem on that other day, a lifetime ago. I find I still remember every word.


Sun in my eyes
Stressful day, too much this, too little that
The entire planet is flawed
Get away, explore, discover something peaceful

Clouds overhead
A bit of forgotten land in the city
A freeway here, a volcanic cliff there
Man�s chaos to the left, God�s to the right

A light drizzle, no matter
Walking alone, thinking alone
Talking of nothing to myself
Looking for rocks, looking for peace

Rain picks up, emotion rises
One of them chills to the bone
Quickened pace, steeper hill
She would have loved this hidden land

Rain quite strong now
Climbing two hills on two planes
Throbbing muscles, aching heart
I can do this, I�m stronger than this

Rain hammering on my head
Water running from my brow, tears from my eyes
Sudden rage, a scream to the sky
�Is that all you�ve got!?�

The gods have wind and hail
The gods have Mom.
Admit defeat on two fronts
Retraced steps

Light breeze and showers, dappled sun
The squall has passed, the land fresh
Shoes and pants are muddy,
Yet I�m somehow washed clean.


Walking back, I pass the Grotto again. The place has closed for the night and I suppose I'm not really welcome at the moment. Sneaking up above the statue of Philip, I try to look at him from God's point of view.




I'm not the most religious of people, but contemplation is contagious in this place. When (or if) he looks down on us today, what does he think of our modern world? The deceased people remembered in books and tradition (and clumsy poetry), the living people forgotten next to the road? Looking at Philip below, still praying, I wonder what he asked for.


As I depart, I share the path for a moment with another visitor. As I head home, the statue of Christ greets another of the lost.








Re: Sometimes...

Posted by Jane (2007-09-21)
Beautiful Steve....compelling, inspiring, raw and real....thank you for sharing this poignant afternoon exploration you had...

Re: Sometimes...

Posted by bjul49 (2007-09-21)
 Thank you, that was a  beautiful double view of Rocky Butte.  On a more pragmatic note...There is a Rocky Butte clean-up every year.  Current or occupied camps are left alone, the others dismantled. I was amazed how many different flowers manage to survive there. I would have to say though, this is one place in the city where  I would not walk  by myself,  Judith

Re: Sometimes... (The Grotto and Rocky Butte)

Posted by jimsiff (2007-09-25)

Steve, thanks for sharing this.  Perspective is a powerful thing.

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