Estacada Part 3
Hayden Road immediately begins to climb. I’ve turned off the music now, my ears need a break. The relentless thrum of passing cars is growing tiresome though. My legs are getting sore, and the knee I’ve been worried about (the right one) for some time is beginning to hurt with a sharp pain that is somewhat unsettling. I am very hungry, but have promised myself I’ll make it to the park before eating lunch so I can sit by the river.
I climb past tree farms. So many tree farms. Christmas trees for miles. This must be the world Christmas tree capital. Looking at the trees I imagine the different Christmas each is headed for. Which tree gets starved by the dysfunctional family? Which tree gets strung with gold ornaments? Which of these will grow up to tower over Pioneer Courthouse Square some day?
The ground slopes away to the right, and at a clearing in the trees I stop to take a look. there is a barn, looking abandoned, and what look like campers or RVs. Is this a parking area for a campground? I hear metal clang on metal and men’s voices. It feels good to stop.
A few hundred feet further, there is a heavy metal gate blocking a road. No signs. Looks like picnic tables? Odd. This clearly isn’t the park, there aren’t any signs and it hasn’t been close to 3 miles. But whoa. What the fuck is that?
A twisted wreck of a red sedan has wrapped itself lengthwise around a tree about 20 feet down this gully. I head up the road to get a better look. Fairly new yellow caution tape flutters from nearby trees. The driver’s side is completely flattened. Someone died here. Recently. I imagine they’re still in there, that I can smell the rotting body. My stomach churns. I am not so hungry.
I keep trudging up the road. Station wagons usually give me a respectful berth. Big trucks are more likely to drive fast and close. I can feel the air they shove out of the way. It whips my hair in my eyes and blows eddies of road-dust into my face. Assholes.
Hayden Road finally crests the hill and intersects Springwater Road. The sign says “McIver Park -> 1″. Almost there.
Springwater is much nicer to walk along. The shoulder is wide, the road straight, and traffic light. I can see a farm supply store ahead — they’ll have a pen, right? If I’m going in there though, I should probably change out of my beadazzled carousel horse sweatshirt and into the flannel in my bag. It feels good to stop. I drink some water.