Hike number six of the season, which was also my final hike of the summer: Ramona Falls Loop, a seven-mile loop along the Pacific Crest Trail in Mount Hood National Forest, about an hour outside of Portland.

This trail is fairly flat—there’s only about a thousand feet of elevation gain overall—and therefore very dog- and kid-friendly (dogs must be leashed). I saw a handful of families with children of various ages camping in the backcountry, including one family with younger kids (they looked to be early elementary school age) on a multi-day backpacking trip.

I first attempted this hike in early June 2022. I went much later in the day than usual and right as I approached the river crossing it began sleeting and then snowing, which I, an unseasoned Oregon hiker at the time, didn’t expect so close to the start of summer. The river was flowing much faster than I expected, and the water was freezing. Combined with the surprise weather, being out there on my own, and my naturally extremely anxious and catastrophizing brain, I was too nervous to attempt the river crossing. I turned around and walked the mile back to my car.

This time, I went much earlier in the day and much later in the season, crossed the river just fine both times, and finally finished this hike.

Like many Oregon summer mornings, it was overcast when I began (shortly after 5:30 am).

And like many Oregon summer mornings, less than two hours later, the sky was completely clear and the sun hung high.

Most of this hike is through tree canopy, some of it very thick overhead, which is a blessing on clear, hot day. There are only a few short stretches where you’re directly exposed to the sun. Because I went counterclockwise, I hit most of these stretches at the end of my hike. If you go clockwise, you’ll hit these stretches at the start of your hike; or, if you begin early enough on an overcast day, you’ll avoid most of them altogether. I recommend going counterclockwise; it provides a much more dramatic first visual of the falls.

Per usual, in the days leading up to this hike, I checked the trail’s AllTrails page for new reviews/comments. There was a single one that mentioned how enormous the falls are in person; how photos don’t clearly convey the size of the thing. Reader, that hiker was correct. This thing is massive. Look how tiny I am in comparison!

There are several spots to camp next to and just beyond (or, if you’re going clockwise, just before) the falls. Also just beyond (or, if you’re going clockwise, just before) the falls: incredibly beautiful cliff faces of rusty orange and milky blue and grey rock (?).

These cliff faces were enormous. They looked so slick and smooth and sharp and, with the sun rising overhead, they appeared at times to glimmer and glow. There was nothing about these cliff faces in any of the AllTrails comments/reviews I read. Coming upon them was a very unexpected surprise, and a much better unexpected surprise than sleet and snow and a rising, raging river.

I wish I’d been able to better capture their beauty with my iPhone camera.

By the time I hit the river crossing on my return, the day was fully awake. Unfortunately, the sun rising over Mount Hood made it impossible to get a photo of the mountain in which it didn’t look completely washed-out.

It was still early when I hit the river crossing on my way back—a few minutes after 8:00 am. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. The sun felt so nice, the scenery was so beautiful, and no one else was out there. So, I set up on some wide, sturdy logs, and spent some (more) time taking it all in.

This hike is fully in the backcountry. As such, there’s no cell service beginning about four miles before the trailhead. If you attempt this hike, make sure you’re prepared for the water crossing and for being completely out of cell service range; check recent reports about trail and river conditions in the days leading up to your hike. Download your trail map and any music or podcasts you plan to listen to on the trail before you leave home. You’ll be able to easily navigate back to the main road without GPS—there’s plenty of clear signage, and most of the time, there’s only one way you can go.

The parking lot is huge. It could easily fit probably a couple hundred vehicles. Both times I’ve been here, there’s been at least one porta-pottty; best to come equipped with your own toilet paper. The road leading to the trailhead is single-lane in some stretches and has some pretty gnarly potholes, though there are significantly fewer of them, and they’re much less gnarly, now than in 2022. Pay attention and, if you, like me, don’t have a rugged outdoor vehicle, maybe go a little slower than you think you need to. What a bitch it would be to pop a tire out there on a narrow-ass road several miles from cell service.

Hike number five of the season: Mount Defiance and Starvation Ridge, a 14-ish mile loop from, or maybe through?, hell. I hiked the loop counterclockwise. Having completed it this way, I can’t imagine doing it the other way. The descent would be even more of a nightmare on cranky/janky knees, and I think it would’ve felt even more than it already did like there was no end in sight.

With 5,000 feet of elevation gain in 5 miles, Mount Defiance is said by some to be one of Oregon’s hardest hikes. It’s the highest point in the Gorge, and many mountaineers use it as a training hike in preparation for climbing Mount Hood, which is visible from the summit on a clear day (above).

This hike is a slog. There is absolutely no reason to do it if you’re not (A) training for something (physical, mental, or both), or (B) a masochist (me). It’s not particularly scenic and for most people the few views you do get aren’t worth the work you have to put in to earn them. There are far more enjoyable hikes with much better views. For example: Tom Dick and Harry.

The hike starts regular enough. The first stretch is a paved path along the highway. Once you enter the trees, you pass by a few waterfalls and then you’re on your way.

About a mile in, you hit a junction: switchback to take Starvation Ridge Trail clockwise, forge ahead to take Mount Defiance Trail counterclockwise. I went counterclockwise.

About a mile later I broke out my poles, and about another mile after that I pulled up my knee sleeves. Knee sleeves are a lifting accessory. We lifters wear them to support our knees—to keep them warm, reduce inflammation and pain, and improve stability. You’ll often see barbell athletes wearing them during movements like squats and lunges. This hike is the first time I wore my knee sleeves on the trail; it’s the first time I thought to. So many of the reviews talked about how brutal the ascents and descents on this trail are, and I know my knees: they’re not the most agreeable! And you know what? Total game changer. I can’t believe I didn’t think to add knee sleeves to my hiking gear before now.

To be frank, I couldn’t tell you what most of the ascent looked like. Compared to my usual trail behavior, and despite what this photo-heavy post suggests, I rarely stopped to look around or take photos. I mostly kept my head down, my eyes forward, and my feet moving. I knew that if I stopped too frequently or for too long I’d have a hard time getting going again. As a beloved animated fish once famously said, just keep swimming.

Several miles in, I hit the false summit, which is still forever from the actual summit. On a clear day, Mounts St. Helens, Rainer, and Adams are visible in the distance.

Exactly four hours in, I hit the summit. I hung out there for 15 minutes, refueling with electrolytes, Pop-Tarts, dried fruit, and applesauce pouches. The view of Mount Hood from here is fine enough. The one from Tom Dick and Harry is much better.

There’s also the eyesore of the telecommunications equipment at the top of Mount Defiance, which is enormous and, unlike the small setup of equipment at the summit of Tom Dick and Harry, absolutely does detract from the experience. When you reach the summit, you see the equipment before you see Hood. You have to walk around it before you can see the mountain.

On the way back down, I took Starvation Ridge Trail at the junction, which I hit about 20 minutes after leaving the summit. Much of the first portion of Starvation Ride Trail is, thank god, flatter than Mount Defiance Trail.

And then: it’s not. After an initial reprieve, the descent begins and basically doesn’t stop until it turns into another ascent toward the end of the loop. For much of these portions of trail, I hiked over either loose rocks or loose dirt. These stretches required full attention and careful foot/trekking pole placement to not slip/fall. Again, during these prolonged sections of trail, I didn’t take as many photos as I usually do because I was focused on keeping my head down, my eyes forward, and my feet moving without slipping/falling.

The final 3-ish miles were miserable, mostly because it was 80 goddamn degrees in late July and there was very little to no shade, and there was a stretch that went back up hill. For those miles, I hated my life, my choices, and myself. I could not wait to be finished and regretted having ever started. Being able to see the highway and hear signs of life and knowing I was so fucking close made it even worse. I wanted to be done so bad!

I have no clue how long this hike actual was in terms of distance. AllTrails is never particularly accurate. In this instance, it was egregiously inaccurate. According to the app’s calculations, I hiked almost 20 very steep miles in a mere seven hours. If that were true, I would’ve been hiking a mile with 1,000 feet of elevation gain faster than many people can run a mile on flat ground. Which: yeah, right! I’m fit. I’m not that fit.

Gloriously, after seven hours to the minute of hiking, I finished. When I reached my car, I immediately took off my boots, socks, and pants (I wore Nike shorties underneath), grabbed the refuel snacks I brought (pizza, fruit, high-protein Greek yogurt, chips, electrolytes), popped my trunk, and chowed the fuck down and chilled the fuck out for a bit before driving home. I always bring a lunch box of snacks for after my hikes. This was the first time I actually finished everything I brought.

If you’re going to attempt this hike, I highly recommend eating a breakfast of complex carbs (can’t go wrong with oatmeal), bringing more water and electrolytes than you think you’ll need (I brought three liters of water and two 16.9-ounce bottles of electrolytes and had half a liter and no electrolytes left at the end), carrying a healthy dose of carb-heavy snacks (simple and complex) to eat along the way, and packing food, water, and electrolytes for afterward.

Trekking poles are a must for this hike. If you have wonky ankles, you’ll want a shoe or boot with a higher, sturdier top. If you have cranky/janky knees, I suggest wearing lifting knee sleeves. I like (and wear) Rehbands. SBDs are another popular choice. They’re not cheap. They are worth it, especially if you frequently find yourself hiking trails that aren’t compatible with your knees.

My favorite parts of this hike were carb loading in the days leading up to it, and taking myself to Oxbow after the gym the next morning to hangout in the sun eating more pizza and fresh fruit while reading my library book (The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo), as a little treat.

My official review of this hike: Type 2.75 Fun. Could’ve been an early, Ranch-era CrossFit Games workout.

Would I do it again? If you’d asked me in the days right after, I would’ve said, “Immediately no.” If you asked me now, I’d tell you, “Maybe.”

Hike number four of the season: Oxbow Loop. I’m gonna be real with y’all. This trail is—no pun intended—basically just a walk in the park. A very confusingly marked walk in the park that doesn’t really feel like a hike at any point during its seven-ish miles.

The loop snakes alongside the Sandy River and, despite how it appears on AllTrails (as one clearly defined, looping trail), it’s comprised of several smaller, interconnected trails that are individually labeled by letter on the park’s map (paper copies are available at the board outside of the visitor center).

Because of this discrepancy, and because I had very unreliable cell service and couldn’t easily pull up the map on AllTrails, it took me about 35 minutes to just pick a letter/trail, start walking, and hope I was on the right path. Thankfully, the trailhead I chose (C) gave me one single bar of service long enough for the AllTrails map to load and confirm I was indeed on the right path.

I deviated from this trail much more than I usually do during a hike so I could scout out secluded spots to set up in the sun afterward. The promise of finally getting to touch water for actual real after the tease of Lower Punchbowl Falls is the entire reason I did this hike.

AND GUESS FUCKING WHAT. I FINALLY GOT TO TOUCH WATER FOR ACTUAL REAL!!!

There are several spots along the way to set up in the sand. Most of them are marked by large signage, trash and recycling bins, and have lifejackets available for use. Some also have vault toilets and/or portable toilets. By late morning on warm weekdays, these areas are pretty crowded.

I set up on a small patch of sand with my beach towel, a library book, and some snacks and spent the next several hours reading, sunning, exploring, and cooling off in the water. My dream life. I love being outside in the sun and water so much.

I don’t feel strongly one way or the other about the “hike.” I feel very strongly about setting up in the sand under the sun—big recommend. Just please don’t do it while I’m there.

Shout out to my friend who told me about this place earlier in the spring when I was asking around for good spots close-ish to the city and any accessible body of water where I could go and be alone. I’ve been back here several times since this day and each time I’ve been blessed with about three entire hours completely to myself, sometimes as many as five. How incredible to live so close to such a place.