Tackling Multnomah Falls and Taming the Beast Within

When newfound growth collides with old ways of thinking, the results are interesting.

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Hi. My name is Kristi, and I’m a recovering dieter. I’m also still a striver, a hustler, a go-getter, a dig-down deeper, an overachiever. Most of all, I’m a work in progress.  

As I mentioned a few posts back, Hubs and I returned in late June from a working vacation in Oregon with two of our kids. It was part of our larger master plan to escape the Texas heat, which is as brutal as you expect it to be. As two active people who love hiking and biking and being outdoors, we wanted to explore as much of that lush temperate terrain as we could. So, of course, Multnomah Falls was on our must-do list. At 620 feet, it’s the tallest waterfall in Oregon and one of the most-visited falls in the U.S. There are several viewing locations, including the base, the Benson footbridge and an observation deck at the top.

Because of its proximity to Portland—only 30 minutes from the city—and its grandeur, visiting Multnomah Falls isn’t one of those get-lost-in-nature type of experiences. We knew that going in, but because of how crowded it was at the base and Benson Bridge, I was not surprised when my husband asked if I wanted to make our way to the top, where we knew there would be fewer people. Of course, I said yes, and off we went, past the bridge to the next ascent. 

By the way, if you want to experience Multnomah when it’s least crowded, do it before the falls officially opens at 9 a.m. and pick any season besides summer (winter is the least crowded time of year to visit, but the falls are sometimes closed because of snow and ice, so make sure you check before you make the trek). 

With an elevation gain of 870 feet up a basalt cliff face via a series of switchbacks, there was no expectation this would be an easy hike. At 2.2 miles, it’s short but intense and well-maintained. Despite some AllTrails reports from other hikers saying it’s narrow, I didn’t find it that way, although it’s along exposed cliffside for most of it.

As we started the climb, my husband asked how I was feeling. He told me he remembered my post from our trip to Yellowstone National Park and writing about how I sometimes questioned my physical abilities now that I’m in a larger body. That was true then, but I think I’ve largely resolved those feelings. Also, I see now they were just that—feelings versus reality.

Still, this was a strenuous hike. It did not help that each switchback was labeled, so when I saw the first sign—1 out of 11 switchbacks—and switchback 1 had been incredibly long and steep, I did not see it as encouragement. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to turn around?" my husband asked, waiting for me to catch up as we rounded the next switchback. Nope, I assured him I was fine, though it seemed like I was getting lapped by everyone going up the cliff. Families that looked like they had not hiked a day in their lives and had not anticipated hiking on this one were passing me by. 

“We don’t have to go to the top, you know,” he suggested after we rounded the next one. I just gritted my teeth and kept moving. 

No way was I turning around. Bless my husband, but he knows how stubborn I can be. The more he asked, the more resolute I became in my decision. So we kept trudging, and he’d wait for me at the turn of every switchback.

Things got better at the seventh turn. The switchbacks had narrowed and we could see we were almost at the top. From there, it was a short walk down along the river to a circular-shaped wooden platform jutting out over the falls.

One of these isn’t like the other

The payoff wasn’t worth it. Multnomah is an impressive waterfall from the bottom, but from the overlook at the top, you look out and see… a highway. OK, you also see the Columbia River Gorge beyond that. But, arguably, there are way better waterfall overlooks in Oregon. The overlook from the top of Tumalo Falls in Bend, which we visited the week before, was way more impressive and absolutely gorgeous. 

“Are you proud of yourself?” my husband asked as we took photos of the river, knowing full well I would say no. He followed it up with, “I bet I can guess how you’re feeling.” Of course, he was correct. 

I was mad at how slowly I perceived I was going, especially in relation to others. I was comparing myself to the old me and coming up short. In a moment of particularly bad timing, he then reminded me of what one of his employees who lives in Portland had told him. He used to bring first dates to these falls to test out whether they were relationship material. This me surely would have failed, I thought. Luckily, I am married to the love of my life. 

On the way back down, which only took about 20 minutes, I could see what a beast of an ascent this hike actually was. By the time we got down to the first few switchbacks, there was a sharp variation in the trail's grade. That’s when I realized. It wasn’t just me. This climb was no joke. 

When I got back in the car, I looked through our photos and saw one my husband had taken of me on the trail. Just as I felt in Yellowstone, in my mind, my body is smaller than it appears in real life. But it's me. It's who I am. Seeing these kinds of photos of myself used to be the impetus for kick-starting yet another diet. And, yes, I still have that trigger reaction, but now it’s a moment and then gone. Because I know it’s not a long-term, sustainable solution.   

Here’s what I thought about it later. I could still be dieting and actively trying to control the shape of my body through food and exercise, and I would be smaller than I am now, but I still wouldn’t be as small as most everyone else around me, and I would be obsessed with shrinking my body—and starving. No, thank you. 

I never once doubted my ability to get to the top of the falls. There was no chance of not making it. Yes, that attitude can occasionally backfire, but there is a certain level of confidence that comes from knowing exactly what you’re made of and what your body is capable of. Years of competition as a recreational Olympic weightlifter have taught me about mental fortitude, and sometimes it’s as simple as making the choice to go forward. The only thing that was a problem was how much I beat myself up on the way up. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “Life is a journey, not a destination.” I believe that, in most cases. Sometimes, though, life is just about getting it done. There was no savoring that climb. It was a beast to be endured. While I wasn’t proud of myself in the moment, especially that I got into such a negative headspace in such a beautiful place, former me would have seen it as failure and a reason to beat myself up. This me sees it for what it was—a moment in time.

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