A visit to Obrist Cemetery & an abandoned farmstead
We’re enjoying a warm spell here in Oregon, and with an empty calendar day on a Thursday in mid-February, I decided to drive out to the Dalles to get a good ride in and check out a cemetery that had caught my eye on google. I started a photo course earlier this week, and since one of my personal desires is to take better ride and hike photos, I figured I might as well get some practice in with my relatively new Ricoh GR III.
I took a slightly convoluted route out of town that went by the edge of the Dalles Pioneer cemetery, but I decided not to go in as it didn’t look great to photograph. I was waiting to ascend to a more desolate place named Obrist cemetery later on. I wrapped around the top of the Dalles to Dry Hollow road and connected over to Skyline Road, a perpetual favorite for its constant grade, quietness, firm gravel, and excellent views. The top of this climb is an old barn that tilts more each year, and I was happy to see that it hadn’t up and tipped over just yet.
From the old barn, it was a short jaunt down Dutch Flat road, past the main intersection with 3 mile Creek and then a quick rise back to Obrist road. A shot up Dead End sign heralded the direction of Obrist cemetery.
The cemetery was just a mile or so down Obrist road, and the hardscrabble nature of the farms and terrain matched what I found at the cemetery. There were gravestones of 19th century pioneers, but most surprising was the sheer number of anonymous graves simply proclaiming “man”, “woman”, and “baby”.
Two of my favorite headstones were simple concrete crosses that had been decorated with quartz shards. Creating a union of memorial and folk art.
I left the cemetery, got back on my bike, and headed on. Despite being less than 20 miles into the ride, the climb up Skyline in the sun had made me surprisingly sweaty, and I started to realize I’d likely run out of water on this ride. More annoyingly, I began to pass plenty of rushing spring creeks, particularly in the still snowy valleys between the ridges, and it would have been easy enough to have filtered and been set if I’d been sensible enough to bring my filter. The temperature in the valleys was easily 20 degrees colder than up on the ridges, but I wasn’t down in them for long, and I was soon climbing up Pleasant Ridge road, a track I’m more familiar with going down when doing different versions of the Japanese Hollow ride.
I’ve recently been listening to a lot of Takoma Records artists, but I actually got started on that track by a Jim O’Rourke album called “Bad Timing” that is very John Fahey-esque but warped with O’Rourke’s experimental mindset. I listened to this lovely record as I turned my legs up Pleasant Ridge, and before long, I was cresting up and riding past the Japanese Hollow turnoff to continue riding west on Pleasant Ridge, which was new to me. Then at mile 31, I turned left onto Pine Hollow road to descend back down to 8 mile creek. Very shortly though, I was pleased to see an abandoned farmhouse on the right that stood desolate. Abandoned farmhouses aren’t exactly rare up on these plains, but there tend to be still active farms attached to them. This one, however, was clearly in total neglect, and I rode in to explore a little.
The lattice of the old porch roof against the brilliant blue sky was particularly stunning. The porch floor itself was well on its way to caving in, so I tiptoed in carefully and checked out the scene.
The local kids and their guns had clearly had a good time shooting up the place over the years. The walls were pockmarked with bullet holes, as was the old cast kitchen sink. I very carefully went up the old staircase and peeked in. As a child, the upstairs at my grandmother’s farmhouse in Michigan had become slightly neglected when she could no longer climb the stairs. Paint peeling, piles of readers digests on the floor, old beds. Nowhere near as destroyed as the photos above, it was still an inhabited home, but I experienced a connection.
I left the old farmhouse and was treated to a lovely descent down Pine Hollow road, merging onto 8 mile road, crossing US 197, and then I was back on the very familiar 8 mile road descent back to the Dalles. My water was totally gone at this point and I’ll be real, everything was hurting pretty good from not putting enough time on the bike recently. But I knew the road would take me home and soon enough I was passing all the old markers that told me my day was just about complete.
I rode into the Dalles and pulled up to my car, the GPS showing a 55 mile ride with 4500′ of climbing. I laid down on the sidewalk and did some stretching, and was thankful to slam a warm lacroix I’d left in the car. Truly about as good of a day in February as you can get in the Dalles, I headed to Burgerville and then headed home.
https://www.strava.com/activities/6663635211
