Yesterday I went on a bike ride to explore the Springwater Corridor Trail, a long bike/pedestrian path that hugs Johnson Creek for a portion, in hopes of capturing some moving water on my camera. I found the path and took a narrow dirt path off to the right over to the sound of water, excited to see a drop in the distance. Would a waterfall follow?
In fact a small waterfall awaited, no more than ten or fifteen feet tall, flanked by stone rails on either side - probably a man-made cascade, the result of a small dam. Just beyond the drop, another Portland creek arrived to join Johnson Creek's path towards the Willamette River. The scene was just what I had been hoping to see, but there was also a strange garden with what appeared to be altars and small offerings.
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| The wood shelf reads: "Welcome. May all who enter as guests leave as friends. Friends are the flowers that bloom in life's garden. With God all things are possible. Faith. Hope. Love." |
It turns out that here, almost two years ago, 15-year-old Shane Estorja died jumping off the small dammed cascade, drowning after the shock of the cold water made it difficult for his body to resurface. I didn't know this as I took the photos of course. I learned it through a quick Google search, but I still knew there was something connecting the mysterious Shane to the river. The site was exuding sadness mixed with hope and reverence towards the power of nature, the timelessness of the creek. I was deeply moved.
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| The place where the two rivers join up. |
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| The card on the bottom left reads: "3 AM. Year since I listened to the creek. Felt you." It's the shortest story depicting the slowly dissolving anger long after intense loss that I've ever read. |
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| Spring begins to show itself near the waterfall. |
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| Part of the memorial garden. |
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| A golden afternoon light glistens on the river. |
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