Hiking to the light

Up and down the Oregon coastline there are historic lighthouses: Cape Meares, Heceta Head, Yaquina Head and so on.
But travel inland a couple hours, and Sauvie Island has its own unique lighthouse: Warrior Rock Light. (At least that’s its official name).
This is Oregon’s smallest lighthouse at 28 feet.
Most coastal lighthouses have parking lots pretty close to them or are just a sandy stroll away. Not Warrior Rock.
You can get to it either by a short boat ride from downtown St. Helens or drive out to Sauvie Island and head down Reeder Road until it ends, then hike three miles.
We opted for the latter.
Along the drive out, it rained cotton-looking puffs from Poplar trees as we passed the clothing-optional Collins Beach. The road finally ended, and without much signage instructing us how to get to the lighthouse, we ambled on down the beach.
It was about 5:35 once we stepped foot in the gray sand that lines the mighty Columbia and headed north. We soon learned this is the wrong time of day to make the trip.
Within the first few minutes we spotted a friendly, two-foot long garter snake relaxing on a piece of driftwood.


After a couple hundred yards, we ran out of beach to walk along. We ran into a couple heading back our way and they told us they’d made it a little past the lighthouse.
Our confidence grew.
Onto the grassy trail… and with the trail, mosquitoes. Lots and lots of mosquitoes. A later bite count revealed upwards of 40.
With the mosquitoes, though, you get to see plenty of birds. There were bright yellows, burnt oranges, woodpeckers and hummingbirds. Unfortunately, they move far too quickly for my slow camerahands.


We also came across a plethora of fauna varieties. I wouldn’t have noticed, personally, but I was with a pair of plant-junkies. Erin has a master’s degree in a plant-related field and Sam works for a nursery. They were on a mission to describe all the varieties we encountered.
They pointed out the native Oregon blackberries, identifiable by their bluish stems. My friends were both amazed by the enormous snowberries, or symphoricarpos albus, stretching eight to 10 feet in the air. Their leaves didn’t bear any berries, which is good, because they’re poisonous to humans.
About an hour or so after we started, we’d circled around the lighthouse and came up on the backside of it.
Just as we were making our break for Warrior Rock Light, a guy down the bank was reeling in a good-sized salmon. Apparently not good enough, though, as he had to let it go.
Sadly the lighthouse didn’t have a ladder to the top and there was no way to get in. But we stopped to soak in the surrounding boats, bald eagles and beauty from our perches on a piece of driftwood.


We scared off most of the birds on the way back, when our conversation loudly drifted to He-Man and Thundercats and our walk turned into a run to escape the wrath of the mosquitoes.
It didn’t work. I gave them a ginger Thanksgiving.
We tore down some of the ribcage-high grass to turn into mosquito swatters. This provided a bit of relief.


A cutaway to the water offered a chance to see another bald eagle nesting atop a tower in the water.
Once the path led back to the beach, we were treated to the quintessential American sight, just in time for Independence Day. A bald eagle dove into the water, grabbed a salmon, flew around a bit with the fish dangling in its talons and then swooped into the trees for a fresh-caught feast.


Sam and I had a brief javelin contest, putting driftwood back into the river, and then it was back to the car.
All told, we made the gorgeous seven-mile hike in about two-and-a-half hours. But we each lost about a pint of blood.
So when you go, make sure to bring plenty of bug spray. Or go earlier in the day.
For those who are more strapped for time or energy, there’s a half-scale replica of the original lighthouse in Columbia View Park. And if you walk up the courthouse steps, you can see the fog bell that was installed at Warrior Rock in 1889. It was cast in Philadelphia in 1855.
The bell was removed from the tower after a barge struck the lighthouse in 1969, disabling the light and bell.
The current concrete tower replaced the original wooden house in 1930.

I was Kung Fu fighting

Kung Fu. Never has a two-word title for a class conjured up as much mystique. David Carradine’s probably to blame for that.
Though lacking the name recognition of Carradine, St. Helens’ own Shaun Kennedy taught me the reality beyond the mythical creations of Hollywood.
Namely, Kung Fu is an applied art that requires great attention to detail and a huge amount of mental recall.
Kennedy is the head instructor at St. Helens Shaolin Kung Fu Club, where he teaches a few different classes to a wide range of students, from white belts to a black belt.
My class? Basics.
Nothing like explaining to a grade-schooler that she knows a lot more about a sport than you.
Then again, all I knew about martial arts I learned from Bruce Lee and Ralph Macchio.
On my first day of class, Jacob Woodruff, a purple belt, took fellow beginner Shawn Kelley and myself aside to teach us the eight basic Kung Fu stances and their eight related movements. This mostly involves punching and kicking to different specific areas.
The younger, more advanced students were working on stringing together these moves and others. Once Jacob taught me to do the walking cat stance across our red and blue mat, the main objective was avoiding the flying fists and feet flittering about the classroom.
I got in on one competition: a knife fight. I took on Eisen White, a yellow belt. He quickly grabbed the “knife” (a piece of chalk) from the center of the mat and proceeded to stall, taking it easy on me. My goal was to get the knife from him or take him off the mat without getting stabbed.
I should have tackled him.
I tried putting to use the stances and moves I’d learned just minutes earlier. It didn’t work. My recall wasn’t so sharp. He easily stabbed me right in the stomach.
After a Q&A session taught me you have to be at least as smart as you are physical to earn your belt in Kung Fu, the day drew to a close. After a day off, it was time for weapons class.
I paired up again with Jacob, and we each drew a wooden sword. The movements were basic: hit, hit, hit, hit. As it turns out, weapons class was a lot of fun and games.
The class was outside with our swords and nunchuks for a game of capture the flag. Kelley and I were the flags. The kids were fast, stabbing each other with their soft swords and trying to stab the generals and the flags.
I was stabbed more often than Kelley was.

Purple belt Cody Woodruff lands a kick on head instructor Shaun Kennedy during our Kung Fu class June 11.

After the game, students sparred for a bit. Cody Woodruff, Jacob’s son, laid plenty of kicks on Kennedy, and black belt Randy Rhoads showed his quick feet and high hops.
Jacob proved that it wasn’t just the youngsters who were full of energy by landing several blows on his instructor.
I returned to more familiar ground – taking pictures of the action.

Golfing with Lions

When people golf for the first time, they usually make a fool of themselves.

Not because they're not good, per se, but because they end up bouncing the ball off the windmill. Or the dang clown's mouth closes down on your ball.

But, that first trip out to the miniature golf course sets you up for success in the long run by doing one thing: teaching you how to putt.

A pair of St. Helens sophomores - Colin Chiddick and Kyle Jones - did a heck of a job putting on a putting clinic for outgoing SHHS athletic director Ken Bailey and myself on May 27.

We were playing in the first annual Lion Cup: a two-man scramble pitting Lion golfers against teachers. There were more golfers than teachers, so I was summoned for duty.

The format was best-ball match play: Whoever wins the most holes wins the match.

Two matches had been played the day before. The teachers won one, the student golfers the other. My foursome was the first of five groups on this day.

The sophomores teed off first, with Jones smashing a drive down the center of the fairway. My tee shot trickled down to the women's tee box, but luckily Bailey outdrove Jones by about 10 yards. We're in business.

We looked to have the edge by parring the hole, with them needing to sink a long putt for par. Sure enough, Chiddick nailed it. He didn't tell us at this point that he'd be doing this a lot.

On the par-three second hole, we played my tee shot ...which had found its way onto the green. (This was not common. I think we played just one more of my drives all day.)

After two-putting for a par, we took a 1-0 lead and felt pretty good, and pretty dry from the ankles up.

It turned out Chiddick and Jones didn't like being behind. Jones nailed a 170-yard approach on the next hole. Chiddick curved a 10-foot putt in, and they won the third hole.

After we both parred the fourth hole, Chiddick's 85-yard approach shot landed five feet from the pin, and Jones sunk the putt. Youngsters 2, us 1.

This was the beginning of a trend: Bailey and I looked great for the first half of a hole; Chiddick and Jones looked better on the more important half of the hole.

Chiddick sunk an 18-foot putt on the next hole with our ball lying quite a ways away. Bailey put his within a couple of inches, leaving the pressure squarely on my shoulders.

I tried making up for the wet, not-so-fast greens by powering up a bit. I should have laid off the turbo.

Now it was do-or-die time. We were down two holes with three to play.

Then Jones, for all intents and purposes, ended the match. He drilled his drive 250 yards on No. 7, leaving his ball about 10 feet from the hole.

Knowing we had to get close, we took advantage of the "toss" rule implemented by SHHS golf coach Dave Lawrence. After Bailey's chip didn't get closer than Jones' drive, I put my horseshoe skills to the test by tossing my shot underhand toward the hole.

It wasn't a ringer.

In hindsight, I should've been wise to the toss rule and tossed Jones' ball out of bounds.

Jones ended up just missing his eagle putt, leaving them with a birdie and the match.

We played even on the final two holes, but that was largely irrelevant. The ninth fairway was difficult when the surrounding cow pastures seemed to ripen up a smidge.

After the next group finished, the Lion golf team had taken a 3-1 lead, with its top players Spencer Gordon and Chris Semling yet to finish.

Teachers Jared Phillips and Keith Meeuwsen topped Gordon's team, thanks largely to a 30-foot putt from Meeuwsen on No. 7 that sent a roar throughout the course.

Dave Lawrence and Jay Groom picked up another win for the teachers, tying things at 3-3 with one match left.

But Bradley Timmons and Sam Lawrence came up clutch for the golfers, giving the Lions team its own cup in the inaugural event.

Chiddick and Jones should be forewarned, though: I got in a couple practice rounds over the long weekend.