An Unabridged Search for a Bridge

It seemed time for a walk

The trillium season long out-lasts
 the festival which it inspired. Two
 of the aptly-named flowers made
 an appearance in the park, in varying 
states of repair.

Having missed the Trillium Festival thanks to my new job, I decided a trip to Tryon Creek State Park was in order. One of Portland’s many parklands, Tryon Creek is the only State Park I am aware of located in Portland. I picked a warm day in April to visit Tryon Creek, which was wise, and the time of day I chose meant it was quiet around the park for the most party. In the gift shop perhaps a bit too quiet…anyway. However due to the time of day, I thought it pertinent to pick a fairly short, and manageable hike. I had recollections of a suspension bridge somewhere in the park. I had been impressed with it in my last visit, and decided to seek it out again. With my goal set, I locked the car, and headed out away from the nature park, northbound, then west, following signs to the High Bridge. After all, a suspension bridge was high off the ground right?

The High Bridge was impressive and well built,
 but not at all what I was looking for.  Still 
worth taking a few moments to admire the creek.

The park was cool and quiet, as I had expected. The festival may have been over, but the namesake flowers were still out and alive to varying degrees. The sun glowed in the moss lining the trunks of the nearly bare Bigleaf Maples, shining a olivine-like color. The trail passed glens of cedars, mats of sword fern, and decaying stumps, before taking a nosedive and descending to the crossing with Tryon Creek. I continued to seek reassurance from the signs pointing me straight ahead to High Bridge.

That's the wrong bridge...

I didn’t realize I had confused myself until I reached the banks of Tryon Creek and gazed across a flat, wooden bridge proudly bearing the label “High Bridge.” Now don’t get me wrong, High Bridge was very nice, well built, and a great platform to view the salmon-bearing stream from which the park takes its name. But a suspension bridge it was not. I had had confidence in my ability to find a landmark in a park. My knowledge of the park was so extensive in fact that I had confidently followed signs to the wrong bridge, over the wrong creek, about 200 feet lower than my destination. But hey, if getting lost is inevitable, being lost in a park in the middle of Oregon’s biggest city isn’t as threatening as it was in the 1800s. At least the mountain lions have left town...I hope.

From High Bridge, looking back toward the nature
center. The scenery along the creek is incredible,
but navigation can be a bit tricky with no map. Step
right up folks, pick a trial! Any Trail!

The area looked familiar, so I took one of the four available trails and headed back uphill, into a grove of older firs, with trunks two or three feet in diameter. The maple and fir cut out much of the sunlight, and the air was cool. I got so caught up in the light and shadows, that the suspension bridge nearly caught me off guard.

It was painted green, with its name written on it: “The Terry Riley Bridge” it spread over a small emerald ravine, with cables and chicken wire keeping the hiker from falling into the forest forty feet below. It is a secluded place in the park, and a peaceful location with a creative solution to bridging the gap. While I had originally concluded that it must have been an eagle scout, it turns out that he was a student at Lewis and Clark who died, and had the bridge built in his honor. The story is touching, and for a bridge that has stood for twenty years, the bridge is in excellent shape.

Finding Terry's Bridge

The Terry Riley Bridge straddles a
secluded verdant ravine and the brook
which carved it. The ravine is lined with
towering firs and cedars. Walking
across this bridge once is not enough

I won’t tell you where I ended up finding it, lest I rob you of the possible adventure I had. Then again, if you actually use the tools available to you, you can find it…easily. However you have to use the right tool. Relying on signposts proved my fault, but even if I had, I would never have found the bridge. A signpost twenty feet away cheerfully directed me back to High Bridge, making no mention of the Terry Riley less than 100 feet away! Even gift shop exhibits made no mention of it, and the bridge is so unique, I would expect that they would want to make it known. Then again, had I just picked up a trail map and asked for directions, my tale would be a wee bit less exciting. My quest was short, and there are many more bridges to be conquered in Tryon Creek. Will I write about this park again in the near future: it’s a fair bet. Of course, I recommend any visitor pick up a trail map, and let it be their pride, which is best left in the car.