You can’t overlook this scenery

Some states have mottos like “Land of Infinite Variety,” “Sunshine State” or “Not as Flat as North Dakota.”

Oregon is the true land of variety. The state is blessed with bountiful beaches, magnificent mountains and an overwhelming abundance of adjectives produced by chamber of commerces, tourism bureaus and overexcited writers of newspaper columns.

These wordsmiths use the adjectives to describe the scenic overlooks of this state we’re lucky to call home. Yes, we occasionally overlook the scenery. We’ve become so accustomed to dazzling vistas we sometimes take them for granted.

That must end, people.

Each of us has a favorite Oregon place. For some it’s Crater Lake. The lake, now a national park, filled with sparkling water after Mount Mazama, in a fit of volcanic anger, blew its top.

For other people the favorite place is Bandon. The southern Oregon coast town offers jaw-dropping vistas where rock formations stretch seemingly forever in the sea haze.

For still other people the favorite place is the breathtaking drop of Hells Canyon, one of the deepest gorges in the world.

One of my favorite places is less famous. It’s a short drive from Elgin. When the sun is setting and conditions are right, you can see not only the silvery ribbon of the Columbia River but the massive girths of Mount Adams and Mount Rainier.

Shutterbugs for years kept Kodak stock percolating with pictures from the top of Weston Mountain. You don’t have to climb a mountain, as in using rope, ice axe and crampons. It’s just a roadside pullout you reach in a car — a fine place to overlook the scenery.

It would take the heart of a rock, however, to overlook this magnificent scene.

In late May, patches of snow still polka-dot the landscape. Mule deer browse on tasty new shoots of grass. Except for the occasional car zipping by on the highway, deafening silence pervades. Dramatic hillscapes of fragrant pine, with an interplay of sunshine and shadow, fade away seemingly to a blue eternity.

The Blue Mountains are a place with 3-D topography, as any elk hunter who has got out of the pickup truck and marched up and down the canyons can attest.

It’s a great place to decompress after a hot day in the valley.

It’s a place where you measure elbow room in miles, not meters.

Too soon, though, it’s time to go. The evening’s chilly tentacles chase away photographers just as the last reddish blossoms begin to fade in the big sky to the west.

Sometimes the lucky visitor will see a coyote foraging for mice, or hear its giddy laughter.

Sometimes a train of elk will cross the road 100 strong, pulled along by three engine elk with a caboose elk taking up the rear. This is an “old school” herd of elk.

Very occasionally, the lucky traveler will see a black bear rumble through the meadows.

Moose, cougars and wolves also populate the northern Blues, but they usually remain cleverly hidden. Spotting these creatures is a rare treat.

The bigger point is, part of the joy of being an Oregonian is sharing our favorite spots with the people we love. Sharing is fun to do in a state whose motto should be, “You Can’t Overlook the Scenery.”

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