Willamette Week
The Howling
The return of wolves stirs up old hostilities between rural and urban Oregonians
In March, Rob Klavins and his wife, Emily, picked up their life in Southwest Portland and moved to Enterprise, a town with 1,888 people and zero stoplights in the northeastern corner of Oregon. Rob grew up in Wisconsin, a scruffy-bearded, sharp-eyed and talkative son of concert violinists. He fell in love with the rural West during his college years. He and Emily realized a dream when they bought Barking Mad Farms, a bed-and-breakfast situated in a century-old farmhouse with a wraparound porch and an eye-popping view of the Wallowa Mountains.
"It's one of the most spectacular landscapes in the world," he says. "It's got Hells Canyon, which is deeper than the Grand Canyon. You've got Eagle Cap, which is Oregon's largest wilderness area and alpine region. You've got the Zumwalt Prairie, which is the biggest bunchgrass prairie remaining in the lower 48. But it hasn't been loved to death. It's like Jackson Hole before it was discovered."
Settling in Wallowa County isn't easy. Winters are brutal. It's isolated. The county has eight times the landmass of Multnomah County, yet contains only 7,000 residents.
And it's been harder for the Klavins clan, because Rob has a very controversial second reason for moving here—wolves.
Wallowa County is cattle country. For every resident, there are an estimated 10 cattle, many owned by third- or fourth-generation ranchers. Cattle are as central to the area's economy and identity as Yamhill grapes.
And wolves are not considered friends of cattle.
Mount Hood’s Steiner Cabins Are One of Oregon’s Great Architectural Treasures—And You Can Rent One for the Weekend
Working entirely by hand, Steiner and his family built more than 100 log homes and buildings.
(Christine Dong)
Henry Steiner could've raised pigs near Oregon City, but he didn't like pigs all that much. Instead, at the turn of the 20th century, he learned how to build cabins and flood dams in the Cascade Foothills. For the rest of his life, and working entirely by hand, Steiner and his family built more than 100 log homes and buildings now recognized as architectural treasures.
Not only are the nearly century-old Steiners some of the oldest log cabins in the country still standing, they're also some of the most distinctive. Their A-frames and straight, strong timbers are set off by doorways made with snow-bent trees and rockers made of tree roots—hardscrabble artistry made of mismatched parts.
His work is as far-flung as the Oregon Writers Colony in Rockaway Beach and the massive hexagonal posts forming the spine of Timberline Lodge. Iconic examples of the National Park Service style that swept Depression-era building and rural vitalization by the Works Progress Administration throughout the early 20th century, they're also among the few true architectural treasures you can rent for the weekend: Most remain along the winding, root-gnarled roads laced out around Highway 26.
Steiner arrived at Mount Hood from an immigrant family. His parents had moved to America from Erlenbach, Germany, in 1882, when he was just 5 years old, finally settling in a little church community near Oregon City. Steiner grew up there, marrying Mollie Jaster in 1905, a month after helping construct the Forestry Building, the largest log cabin ever built, for the Lewis & Clark Centennial Exposition in Portland.
My Brother Has Spent Quarantine Setting Regional Trail Running Records. I Wanted to Know Why.
The sudden abundance of free time gave him the opportunity to complete a long-term personal pursuit he deemed “the Trifecta."
ALWAYS ON THE RUN: Tyler Green "fast packing" through Glacier Peak in the North Cascades. IMAGE: JT Lehner.
As both a mild-mannered Portland-area health teacher and competitive long-distance trail runner, Tyler Green had his life doubly upended by COVID-19.
His first race of the year—a 165 km trek through the Gaoligong Mountains in southwestern China—was canceled. He also planned to run the Chuckanut 50k near Bellingham, Wash., the 101 km Eiger Ultra Trail in Switzerland, and the Run Rabbit Run ultramarathon near Steamboat Springs, Colo. Each race was canceled in turn.
Then the school year ended abruptly, leaving Green with a lot of extra time to train but nothing to train for.
And so, like many others in the fast-growing sport of trail running, he channeled his energy to FKTs, or fast known times—the speed records for over 2,500 trails worldwide.
The times are tidily compiled at FastestKnownTimes.com, a database that includes notable paths like the Pacific Crest, the Appalachian, and the Wildwood through Forest Park. For a while, Green held the record for the Wildwood Trail and set the record in 2018 for the Timberline Trail, breaking a mark that had stood for more than 35 years. (The women's FKT for the Wildwood is currently held by Green's wife, Rachel.)
The sudden abundance of free time gave him the opportunity to complete a long-term personal pursuit he deemed "the Trifecta": achieving FKTs for the 41-mile Timberline Trail around Mount Hood, the 30-mile Loowit Trail around Mount St. Helens, and the 93-mile Wonderland Trail around Mount Rainier.
I Was a Security Guard for the NBA’s Most Notorious Team. They Fired Me for Swearing.
It took me only a few minutes after being hired at the Rose Garden to meet my ultimate Blazer hero. To my horror, I wasn’t wearing any pants.
I missed the most notorious season in Trail Blazer history by a week.
It was the season when Damon Stoudamire's yellow H2 would be pulled over near Chehalis, Wash., and busted for marijuana possession. Rasheed Wallace would try to fight crooked referee Tim Donaghy on the Rose Garden's loading dock. Zach Randolph would break Ruben Patterson's eye socket with a sucker punch during practice, then spend the next few days in hiding.
I was a security guard for the Jail Blazers era at its peak—but then I got busted for swearing.