At times, walking the Springwater Trail reminds me of taking a subway. You’re cruising along, and then every once in a while, you pop up somewhere familiar and think, whoa, how did I get here?
I ended the third segment of the trip at a place called the Tideman Johnson Natural Area, which I had never heard of before. When I was ready to head out again, I looked it up online to find out where I should park, and realized the area is near where I used to walk when I first moved to Portland.
On a hot September day in 1987, I walked farther than I had ever walked before in Portland. I came to a dusty trial and some railroad tracks. I walked by two kids — they looked like fifth-graders — smoking cigarettes. I came to a swimming hole surrounded by blackberry bushes. The blackberries were all ripe. People were sitting on a concrete slab and jumping off of it into the water.
Returning to the Tideman Johnson, I recognized it. The railroad tracks are now a new paved trail. The water flows faster and the blackberries are replaced by young-looking native plants. The banks of Johnson Creek have been restored in many areas, and I just read in the newspaper that three dead Coho salmon were found 15 miles upstream this year, the farthest up that anyone can remember.
It was a cold, sunny autumn day. I kept walking and emerged into a developed area. I saw a house and shed, run down and overgrown, that reminded me of “Sometimes a Great Notion.”
Then I came to Wichita Feed & Hardware. I thought, whoa, how did I get here?
