Smith Rock and Misery Ridge

After a quick baby wipe bath in the car, Matt and I mow through a bag of chips as we wave goodbye to our friends for the day. Still buzzing from the endorphins of the long run on Peterson Ridge, we head east for part two of our day's adventure, combining trips in an effort to save ourselves almost a hundred miles of driving tomorrow.

From miles away, we can spot the red rock in the distance. Steve and Michelle had described it at as if a chunk of southern Utah were dropped in the high desert of Oregon. Once we arrived, I knew they were right.

Most families and day hikers were leaving already and we found ourselves swimming upstream through a mass of jogging strollers, coolers, and leisurely weekenders. The day was cooling off nicely too. Could we have timed our visit more perfectly? One downside is that we made the decision to do this on a whim and I was stuck with the battered running camera in desperate need of replacing.

We keep a leisurely pace while poking our heads through holes in the rocks, climbing into eroded caves, and watching people scale cliff walls that make me shake with vertigo just watching. Even though it looks terrifying, I'm mesmerized by their patient determination and apparent fearlessness and have trouble looking away. Throughout our hike up and over Misery Ridge, we'd spot several groups of people, young and old, splayed out on the rock faces, climbing up like spiders.

Arriving at the top, I approach the edge with caution. Little by little, I'm trying to get over my paralyzing fear of heights. I perch myself on a rocky ledge and am just in time to watch the softening light turn the canyon orange.

We crest Misery Ridge and begin our descent through dozens of switchbacks covered in loose pebbles and scree. I regret my impulsiveness and wish I had real shoes instead of Chacos. For as much as I enjoy making these quick decisions, I almost always wish I were prepared with the right gear. We take small tentative steps as we drop to the valley floor. Each new footstep results in sliding a few inches before I'm able to take another. We spot a group of climbers doing things far more dangerous than us to keep things in perspective. At least I'm not dropping down on a rope, I tell myself.

See the person atop that rock pillar?

In a mix of adrenaline and endorphins, we finally arrive at the river's edge. With a changed perspective, I marvel at the beauty from the lower angle and can't decide which one I like more.

I walk along in a cloud of bliss until we find ourselves just behind a group of teenage boys who think the best way to enjoy the park is to throw rocks at the geese swimming in the river. Nice. I debate saying something to them but figure they're too far ahead to actually hear me.

Shadows turn to darkness as day fades away behind the canyon walls. After an entire day of activity, my energy levels begin to fade too. Although the side trip is spontaneous and quick, I climb into the car with a satisfied smile on my face.

3.6 miles, 2:05, 1,833 ft. gain