Where Two Rivers Join
Oregon’s White River ends its long run from the glaciers of Jefferson Mountain to the Deschutes River in the canyons near the tiny village of Maupin. My painting buddy, Shelly, and I were driving south along the Deschutes river looking for a good painting subject when we saw an exciting scene before us. There, at a pull-off parking area with tables, we pulled in right next to the river bank. There across the river we saw the pale, whitish-green waters from the White River mingling with the blue and white rapids of the Deschutes. There after flowing miles and miles through tall, steep-sided canyons the White River becomes part of the Deschutes River.
This perfect plein air scene was everything we wanted - bright sun, fluffy clouds, two rivers, and a railroad bridge completed the perfect picture we immediately began to paint.
The first hour was ideal; we both got a good start, Shelly with oil paints and I with acrylics. The sun felt good but we put up umbrellas to shade our easels. As usual the light played hide and seek and light winds blew, but then, strong gusts came up, our umbrellas rocked and then took off toward the river bank pulling some of our gear along. Alas, the winds continued to blow - too soon it was time to go - an abrupt ending to our outting.
Always on the lookout for future painting scenes we headed downstream to Shearers Falls and watched the brave men fishing from rickety platforms built out over the rapids. We wanted to paint here too but instead we took the bridge across the river and followed a winding road up and up.
We thought we might find the White River again in the valleys in the high hills above, and we did, only 4 miles in. We found much more than a winding river, we discovered a small State Park. It is a day-use park featuring the White River’s multiple high waterfalls cascading from an half-circle of steep cliffs. We could see a full view of the falls - it was wonderful to see but the steep canyon made walking inaccessible except along the protective metal fencing.
The first hour was ideal; we both got a good start, Shelly with oil paints and I with acrylics. The sun felt good but we put up umbrellas to shade our easels. As usual the light played hide and seek and light winds blew, but then, strong gusts came up, our umbrellas rocked and then took off toward the river bank pulling some of our gear along. Alas, the winds continued to blow - too soon it was time to go - an abrupt ending to our outting.
Always on the lookout for future painting scenes we headed downstream to Shearers Falls and watched the brave men fishing from rickety platforms built out over the rapids. We wanted to paint here too but instead we took the bridge across the river and followed a winding road up and up.
We thought we might find the White River again in the valleys in the high hills above, and we did, only 4 miles in. We found much more than a winding river, we discovered a small State Park. It is a day-use park featuring the White River’s multiple high waterfalls cascading from an half-circle of steep cliffs. We could see a full view of the falls - it was wonderful to see but the steep canyon made walking inaccessible except along the protective metal fencing.
