Crashing and Burning and New Life in Oaks Bottom

View of Wilhelm Mortuary from the trail

I recently lamented to Meg about my dis-like of having church at 1:00 p.m., because it's difficult to do anything significant either before or after our meetings, and how I wish the weather was better last Sunday (because I didn't have extra meetings, due to my status of single-parentness) so we could have gone on a family hike in nearby Oaks Bottom, as the trail was recently reopened after Mother Nature damaged its usefulness last spring. My brain fails to process from time-to-time, but thankfully Meg was actually home and able to suggest that I take the kids right now, as the sun had just come out and we were home early (Stake Conference was done by noon). Aaron and Ian enlisted to the cause, and we set off on the short trip via bike.

Ian, Warrior

Ian has been riding his balance bike for nearly two years now, and he has mastered the act. But as he was leading us down the steep hill to Oaks Bottom, he started wobbling, lost control, flew over his handlebars, and his face skidded on the pavement, bringing him to a horrific rest. Screams erupted immediately from his bloody mouth, and I feared that I would find him riddled with injuries. His bottom lip was cut; he had huge scrapes on his nose, forehead, and chin; and his middle finger had some torn skin. I couldn't detect any broken bones or loose teeth, and the bleeding quickly stopped, so I carried Ian (while pushing our bikes) back up the hill. I guess he soon felt better, because he asked for his bike back and rode most of the way home, where we were able to clean him up and sit him in front of the TV so he could rest (and fall asleep, of course).

Aaron and his Oregon Grape

Aaron was still interested in exploring Oaks Bottom, so we returned to our bikes and rode back, incident-free. Our first stop was along one of the paths near the Willamette where Aaron and his 4th grade class had planted a bunch of Oregon Grapes. We found the exact plant he had placed into the ground, which I can easily see on my ride to-and-from the office every day. Upon returning to our locked up bikes, we spied two fellas ogling my bike with their eyes and hands. They didn't have any evil intentions, but it was fun to see people's interest in the Black Sheep, which I rarely display in public for long.

We then rode back to the trail-head that had recently reopened. They also built a new bike rack, which we happily used. We haven't had much rain this winter, so it was difficult to gauge the effectiveness of the reconstructed trail, but we enjoyed glimpses of wildlife, mostly dry trails, and good conversation. I especially enjoy the backside view of the mysterious Wilhelm Portland Memorial, the giant complex that borders the boys' elementary school, and which sports the nation's largest hand-painted, outdoor mural, and which will be my final resting place, of sorts.