COYOTE CANYON
TRAIL
Columbia River Gorge
National Scenic Area, Washington
~6ish miles?
The Coyote Wall is a relatively new trail complex on the
Washington side of the gorge, just past Hood River. The giant basalt cliff lies
in that fascinating transition zone between the stormy, damp western half of
the gorge and its drier, golden-hued, eastern counterpart. From I-84, the
Coyote Wall looks to plunge on a long, angled slide into the Columbia River; it
never fails to grab my attention on any drive through the gorge. Until
recently, the area was private range property which is now quickly turning into
a mountain biking mecca.
 |
| the cattle chute |
Hikers are welcome here, but make no mistake, the trail
complex here was built for and is maintained by cyclists. Watch uphill and be
polite- hikers are the guests here.
That said, cycling trails completely screw with any hiker sense
of direction I might have. Rocky and I set off mid-morning to attempt the
Coyote Wall (short) loop in reverse, heading up the Coyote Canyon trail, the
wall still visible from the lower part of the trail but disappearing into thick
fog higher up. My dog took off, a joyous, bounding, deer-colored streak zooming
along S-curves and soft dirt built for mountain biking whoop-de-whoops which
made no sense to my hiker legs. Still, it was a gorgeous, winter hike through
bare-branched oak forest, the meadows littered with umber colored leaves,
silver-green moss clinging to any surface allowing it to thrive.
 |
| a little mountain biker boulder garden |
This was my third visit to the Coyote Wall complex, and it
is officially one of my beloved winter/early season hikes. A good friend and I
first visited in April 2010: we were greeted by an explosion of balsam root and
lupine flowers, and we also got very lost, accidently ending up on private
property while attempting to navigate the complex of trails and roads still
left over in the area. Since we didn't have any wine or cheese, back the way we
came.
 |
| Bring wine & cheese next time |
My second visit consisted of myself, Andy and two dear
friends attempting to complete the Coyote Wall (long) loop in typical January
conditions. We traipsed along the narrow,
narrow, narrow Crybaby Trail, the cliffs spooky and beautiful in dense fog.
During this trip I noticed the Wizard Trail junction plunging down the wall and
filed it away in my mental hiking rolodex for future reference. We made it down a private road to what we *thought* was our trail junction but ended up far north and
west of the wall when we finally popped out of the woods. Whoopsies. From there,
it was cross-country and down and to an angle to find our way back to the
trailhead.
 |
| Not for crybabies |
I'm not sure why I chose to begin the loop clockwise instead
of counterclockwise in terrain I already knew. Probably had something to do
with Rocky bounding off like a crack head just past the cattle gate. Decision
made. Regardless, as I progressed higher up the trail into thick, dense fog, I
couldn't help but admire the trail from a two-wheel point of view. Make no
mistake, I am NO mountain biker- I'm more likely to run headfirst into a tree
than make it downhill intact. Still, if I were more talented, I might consider
it: this single track looked like a helluva lot of fun.
Approximately two miles from the cattle gate, I found the nearly
invisible-to-spot junction with the Wizard Trail. I turned right and soon
stumbled across a second junction I had not read about. Hmmmm. One fork was
marked with blue flagging but looked less used, the other fork was more
distinct, but unflagged.
Just to completely screw with any iron I might have in my
nose, the entire forest was shrouded in one of the densest layers of fog I have
ever hiked in. I knew the Coyote Wall was looming almost directly in front of
me and that I needed to be climbing up it, but I couldn't see it. There was
absolutely no sense of direction. I wandered around both forks for a while
before eventually deciding to head up the left (unflagged) fork. Here it was
clear the trail sees little to no use, no evidence of hiking boots or bike
wheels marred the thick layer of oak leaves. And again, biking trails make no
sense for hiking legs- the little loop-de-loops and whoop-de-whoops make the
trail feel like it is consistently going the wrong direction.
Poor planning on my part. Oh well. With no map and no
printed trail directions with me, I chose instead to just wander through the glorious,
fog-shrouded woods for a while. Eventually I happened upon a section of trail that
looked like I might actually be on the right path, and proceeded to almost
immediately lose the trail in wet meadow and fog. Hmmmm. I perched atop a rock
for a while, watching mist play between tree branches, and surprised myself by feeling
very much a child again. My agenda for the day had failed, but I had found an unexpected
and coveted space of emotion: I felt secretive, hidden, lost in the woods,
queen of my own domain. There was no one else around.
Eventually I returned the way I came, and upon further
analysis at home, determined I was most likely on the right track up the Coyote
Wall. I was headed in a northwest direction, navigating the base of the wall
(or where I *think* it was), and I passed a few signature, downed trees written
about in the trail description. My expectations of what the trail should look
like from a hiker point of view confused my sense of direction, but when I
think about it, the trail would wander (seemingly aimless) as it slowly climbed
higher along the wall. After all, what is fun for cyclists and what makes sense
for hikers are two very different things.
Still, it's a brilliant area. And one that always plays hide
and seek with my sense of self.