French Prairie

June 12, 2025

My day begins early, with me sitting at my usual post at Lovejoy Bakery just after they open their doors at 7. I'm downing my first cup of coffee and catching up on the news while I wait for today's brunch special, corned beef hash, to arrive. And what a ferocious day of news this turns out to be: it begins with news of the Boeing Dreamliner crash in India, then moves on to reports of Trump terrorizing Los Angeles with the National Guard and Marines; then the handcuffing a U.S. senator with the audacity to ask a question at a press conference; then a federal judge rules that Trump's troop movements are illegal and orders them ended; and then Israel bombs Iran. Warp speed! Has there ever been a day with so many urgent stories coming out in machine gun fashion?

I think this is the fifth time I've been to Lovejoy since returning to Portland - long enough to convince myself that the Ukrainian crowd have either moved on or gone underground for their own safety. It's all so sad and enraging.

I'm getting an early start because I've got an afternoon meetup down at the McMenamin's in Wilsonville with my friend Frank, who's agreed to meet me halfway for lunch. We're meeting at 1:30, but I'm getting an early start because before that I want to take a bike ride through French Prairie. It's about a twenty minute drive for me, and I arrive at Butteville Church and park the car there ant around 10:30. The loop I've mapped out and loaded to the Garmin is a flattish 25 miles. Even with the birding and photography stops I anticipate I should have no problem making it back to the car in time for the five mile drive up to Wilsonville.

I was really careful leaving the house to make sure I had everything needed for a bike ride with a restaurant stop: glasses, camera, phone, wallet, bike clothes, street clothes, car keys, condo keys, Garmin. So I audibly curse myself when I unload the bike from the car and realize I've forgotten the Garmin. Really? I guess I need to get some discipline and start checking out Team Anderson's Rules before I leave to make sure I'm not dropping something critical. For no earthly reason I keep trusting my memory but it's really unreliable now, especially since I upped my prednisone dosage again.

So frustrating, and a significant problem today when I'm time boxed at the back end. I know the route and don't really need the Garmin for navigation, but without it under my nose I can't easily keep track of the time, see how fast I'm going, and gauge whether I'm on track to get back to the car in time for my lunch date.

I curse myself a few times more without improving the situation any, and then start biking - down past Butteville Store and then up a short climb to the start of the paved bike path through Champoeg Park.

I've biked through Champoeg many times over the last forty years, and probably a dozens of times with Rachael. It's a locally famous biking spot, the destination of the Monster Cookie Ride. A metric century sponsored by the Salem Bicycle Club, the MCR is one of the earliest spring organized rides in the Willamette Valley, and maybe the oldest. Begun in 1976, it ran for 48 years straight (although it probably took the Covid year off), beginning in Salem and turning back at Champoeg Park.

So it's a well-known destination in the northwest Oregon biking community, although that's changing. Starting this year the MCR is following a new course northeast to Mount Angel and back, because of safety concerns from the increased traffic load on River Road.

It's famous for more than that though, because this flat lowland along the river has great historical significance to Oregon. A state park, Champoeg State Heritage Area is a protected area listed on the National Register of Historic Places. From the link:

Champoeg State Heritage Area features a rare combination of history, nature, and recreation. Situated south of Newberg along the scenic Willamette River, Champoeg's forests, fields, and wetlands recreate the landscape of a bygone era.

This is the site where pioneers voted to form Oregon's first provisional government by a historical vote in 1843. A thriving town of 200 was established, only to be washed away during a great flood in 1861.

Midway between Salem and Portland and surrounded by low-lying croplands, this feels like such an unlikely place to be the birthplace of Oregon. In fact though this entire little region known as French Prairie is historically significant for more reasons than this, which we'll come back to later on in the loop.

Yikes! That's the flood that destroyed the town. It makes me think of Vanport.

So I take my slow, sweet time biking through the park. It's a relaxed, easy, flat ride on a dedicated bike path, popular for its scenic value but also for the gentle terrain. Like the Loop in Tucson, it's a place where you'll see flat-landers riding trikes or recumbents or prone paraplegics powering their rides with their arms. It's also supposed to be a fine birding spot, and I do hear birds around - but they're generally either high up in the canopy or else down by the river on a footpath not open to cyclists. I suspect I'll be a better biker in a couple of years when I can start walking in places like this again.

It takes me about an hour by the time I finally leave the park. From there I bike east to Saint Paul on peaceful, low traffic French Prairie Road. This too is generally flat, with the sides of the road lined with a variety of crops: hazelnuts, hops, corn, squash or cukes, onions. There's a work crew in the distance tending one of the fields, likely all immigrant manual laborers. Somehow from this distance they look safe enough, not the hardened criminals here invading our country and bringing it to its knees. Looking at them I feel a combination of disgust and sorrow, thinking of the fear that must be running through their community now.

I've been feeling sorry for myself trying to maneuver through the parking garage of our condo, but I can't complain now after watching this guy back in. It's legal to drive if you're sightless in one eye, but I wonder about for a commercial license?

Saint Paul is the turnback spot for my short loop, and the bookend to the historical character of the region. Saint Paul was established as the primary population center here after the town of Champoeg was washed away by the flood of 1861, but it was already a place of significance well before then. The region was settled by French-Indian pioneer families beginning in the 1820's (hence the name French Prairie); and in 1839 the first Catholic Mission in what's now Oregon was established here by Father Blanchet to minister to the French-Indian community. The original church, a log cabin, was replaced in 1946 by the still-standing Saint-Paul Roman Catholic Church, the oldest brick building in the Pacific Northwest.

A check of my phone shows that I've lagged well behind schedule so I've only got time for a few quick shots before heading back - but I need to plan another ride down here next month when we've got a car again (we have to return this one this Sunday).

The famous sign at the entrance to Saint Paul - so famous that it's even noted on Google Maps. Guess I'd better take a picture of it then.

It's been a fine ride all the way to Saint Paul, but the way back is even better as I drop about seventy feet down to Riverside Drive, an all but empty road that closely follows the river most of the way back to Champoeg. It's almost completely flat and I make the best time I can other than stopping for a few quick shots along the way. It's frustrating not having the Garmin though to know how far I am from the car and being able to gauge how I'm doing on time. In fact I'll realize when I come to this road's end that it's farther than I remembered and I'm well behind schedule.

Dropping toward the river on Riverside Drive. Ahead on the other side are the Dundee Hills, an important wine microregion.

Several unbroken miles of corn border Riverside Drive.

Looking across the river at the Chehalem Mountains, another important wine region.

Once I'm back on Champoeg Road I have to decide whether it's faster to stay on this road all the way back to Butteville or drop back into Champoeg Park again and follow its bike path back. If you're after an enjoyable, relaxed ride the park is the way to go, but I'm pretty sure Champoeg Road is faster although it's busier and comes with a few hills.

Seems like there should be at least one mountain shot. Here we're looking across the Barnstormers Remote Control Airplane strip.

On Champoeg Road - some old mill or structure, not identified on the map.

I make it back to the car at 2:30, late but otherwise pleased with myself because I kept a fast, strong pace the whole way. I'm really doing better as a biker since we've come home - I'm getting stronger, and even better than that I'm finally figuring out my boundaries. I'm surer about my line on the right/blind side, more comfortable riding closer to the edge, and more able to ride a straight line. It's really feeling almost normal.

But I'm late. As soon as I reach the car I call Frank with an apology. He's fine, just sitting outside in the shade enjoying his mint julep, but I offer to pick up his lunch when I get there as compensation. He puts up a weak argument, but quickly caves.

Thanks for driving up, old guy! Next time throw your Bike Friday in the back of the car and we can take this loop together.

Frank and I haven't squared off across a chess board before. Here we're making do with beverage containers. My queen's at risk from the looks of that intense stare. Mate in three, probably. I'd better drink up before the queen gets tipped sideways.

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Today's ride: 25 miles (40 km)
Total: 1,177 miles (1,894 km)

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Mark HoffmannI sure relate to forgetting things, as you did the Garmin. So I thought I'd weigh in to mention the benefits of pointing when going through lists. I heard about it years ago, and have actually found it useful personally.

My favorite AI search engine (Perplexity) can explain it more succinctly than I can:

The Japanese system of pointing to enhance memory is known as "Pointing and Calling," or shisa kanko in Japanese. Research shows that "Pointing and Calling" can reduce mistakes by up to 85 percent, particularly in environments where routine tasks may become automatic and prone to oversight.

While the technique originated with Japanese railway workers, it has since been adopted in other industries, including healthcare, manufacturing, and even daily life. For example, nurses might point to a medication label and state the drug and dosage before administration, reducing the likelihood of errors.

By engaging multiple senses and making actions deliberate, it strengthens cognitive control and recall.
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1 day ago

Scott AndersonTo Mark HoffmannThat's interesting, and makes sense to me. I do something similar, by stating out loud what I've already got: phone, wallet, glasses, camera, car keys, house keys. It's ass backwards though, because I'm just listing out what I already have, not what I might be missing. I need to put up the list and check off against it.
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1 day ago

Amber StarfireGood photos as usual. Things are so crazy right now. Today’s No Kings protests around the country give me hope.
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16 hours ago

Scott AndersonTo Amber StarfireThat's how I feel. The crowd marching completely peacefully through downtown Seattle was estimated at 70,000. I read that the ferry from Bainbridge Island was so full with islanders coming to join the protest that the ferry was listing.
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15 hours ago