Oregon, the Picturesque / A Book of Rambles in the Oregon Country and in the Wilds of Northern California - Thos. D. Murphy

Our road swung still farther from the Deschutes River; we crossed one rugged hill range after another with the inevitable cultivated valley between. The upland plains had been tilled in spots and the irregular yellow patches where the wheat had just been harvested gave a curious effect to the distant hilltops. Evidently much of the soil was not tillable—probably due to volcanic ash—which accounted for the irregularity and scattered aspect of the wheatfields. The heavy wagons carrying the wheat to market had wrought havoc with the roads, which were full of chuck-holes and distressingly dusty.

OVERLOOKING DESCHUTES CANYON, MT. JEFFERSON

Upon one of the highest and bleakest of the hill ranges, we came into the village of Shaniko—our first town in nearly a hundred miles—a place of three or four hundred people. It is, however, one of the oldest settlements of this section and until a few years ago a great staging center for freight and passengers from The Dalles. The coming of the Columbia Southern Railroad, of which Shaniko is the terminus, changed all this and led to the rapid settlement of the surrounding country, which now produces wheat in considerable quantities. In spite of the dignity thrust upon it by being made the terminus of a railroad, Shaniko is a forlorn-looking place, bleak and dusty, with a half-dozen stores and the inevitable hotel—a huge, red-brick structure seemingly out of all proportion to the probable needs of the town. The garage was deserted and it was with some difficulty that we located the owner to replenish our gasoline supply. He directed us to proceed by way of Maupin, Tygh Valley, and Dufur, to The Dalles, rather than follow the railway line.

For twenty-five miles out of the town we ran through the huge, rounded hills, curiously mottled with the irregular golden patches of the wheatfields against the reddish brown soil. At Maupin we came back to the Deschutes, here a lordly river, spanned by a long, high bridge which afforded fine views of stream and canyon in both directions. Here again we were directed to take the new Tygh Valley road and had more reasons than one to be glad that we did, for we saw some splendid canyon scenery and a wonderfully engineered road through the hills. A few miles from Maupin we entered Tygh Valley Canyon. A long, steep, and very rough grade led downward between the stupendous walls of shattered igneous rock—red and dull brown, splashed with spots of golden yellow. The sides were rugged in the extreme, and barren except for a few scrub cedars which clung precariously to the steep slopes. At the bottom of the canyon many varieties of trees flourished and here and there were green paddocks.

In one of the greenest of these nooks, at the point where the road reaches the floor of the canyon, is the village of Tygh Valley, as snug and sheltered as Shaniko was bleak and windswept. There was a picturesque little church with a tall spire and the place seemed reminiscent of New England rather than the far west.

MT. HOOD FROM TYGH VALLEY