Death and Goats

Well as I mentioned in an earlier post, I recently got back from a crazy adventure throughout the amazing state of Oregon.  I thought that I’d begin at the end and share some of the last photographs taken in Oregon, right before heading home.

These photos are taken in a spot called Natural Bridges, for the narrow rock arches that (as you might imagine) for bridges over a roiling Pacific Ocean.  I had made a rather foolish mistake of hiking out to one of these bridges.  I shoved my way through a rocky, steep, and narrow trail until somehow I found myself standing on a gravelly bridge of death.  Very few things scare me, but I do have a distinct respect for heights.  This is especially true when the rock edge I’m standing on drops straight down 200 feet into a rocky thundering ocean, there is no one else around, and the sun is quickly setting.  Despite all this, I still managed to inch out to where the “bridge” was only a few feet wide before losing my nerve and plopping down on my butt.  Before I did I snapped this quick vertigo inducing shot (yes I know the pants are goofy).

I like to think that I looked calmer than I felt because after sitting down for a while I noticed I had a visitor.  Apparently, my hiking trail of death was actually a feral goat trail.  I don’t know who was more surprised, but after the sun went down I managed to get a few parting shots before scooting my way back up the trail on my butt.




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