Along the Jordan

Jeffrey Butts

On the cusp between summer and fall, I made a little trip with the 914 to enjoy the last of the warm weather. As mentioned in a previous travelogue, some intriguing names lay along the east side of the Willamette Valley and they warrant a closer look.

Down I-5, south, towards Salem I drove, enjoying the sunshine and light Friday afternoon traffic. Highway 22 (the Santiam Highway) cuts across the east side of the valley, eventually hooking up with Oregon 20, a major highway across the Cascades. Today I am not going quite that far. I passed previous stopping points and hopped off at Stayton on Old Mehama Road (photo, left). This nifty little farm road parallels Hwy 22 on the north side, dotted with a combination of mobile homes and farms. The road dips and weaves along traffic free today, but I'm not motivated to do anything other than cruise at the speed limit. The community of Mehama is easy to miss, and miss it I did. Although it is listed in my Oregon Road Atlas, I could find no sign of what once was Mehama.

Driving across Highway 22 from the Mehama mystery I cross the Santiam River and enter the little town of Lyons. A quiet burg with a population of about 1000 souls, I took advantage of a nearby little park to stop for lunch. After a lazy half hour on the park bench I drove across the railroad tracks and south out of town onto Highway 226, a connector road between 20 and 22. The road climbs quickly up the side of McCully Mountain and dumps out on a high plateau between just southwest of the peak. It was a famous name that I sought here. I was looking for the Jordan.Creek, not River. The Jordan River is famous as the location where John baptized Jesus, sung often as a part of many Hymns, famous as a line of demarcation in historical battles, and a boundary line in political disputes. Truth be told, the Jordan Creek is less famous, more laid back and quiet, a lazy trickle of water that flows below the modest highway bridge. Still, I wanted to say I had crossed the Jordan and now I can.

While searching for a good spot to take a picture I spied a steel structure camouflaged within the trees along the creek. It looked like a bridge of some kind, perhaps something to do with the utility company. I wanted to get a closer look and began to pick my way around the highway bridge and down the rocky and overgrown embankment. One wrong step and I would get an unscheduled baptism of my own. My mind was racing, trying to figure what this structure might be and I nearly jumped right out of my shoes when a woman's voice called from the other side of the metal bridge. "Come on over," she hollered. Great. I've found some hillbilly encampment right out of Deliverance and they're gonna shoot me and dump my body in the creek because I've discovered their still. "There's parking right down the road," she said. Hmmm! That doesn't sound too ominous. I gingerly made my way back up to the roadway and drove about a hundred yards down the highway. Lo and behold, far from a hillbilly still, there is a grass parking lot surrounded by posts sporting plastic pumpkins. A sign proclaimed this to be the Sweetbriar Train Park and Pumpkin Patch. Sure enough, as I parked the 914 in the lush grass, a family of six walked back to their car, each child carrying a small sized pumpkin. It didn't look as if I was going to be in any immediate danger.

The voice that had called to me belonged to a friendly soul by the name of Karen who, with her husband Jim, are the current owners fo the Bindlestaff and Breier Railroad. I met up with Karen by crossing the bridge I had seen from the banks of the creek. It certainly looked less ominous, but rustic nonetheless. The B&B RR was started back in the late 1960's by Bill and Marie Krauss. They purchased 19 acres just outside of Jordan in what was a second growth timber area. To their surprise they found an artesian well here and, according to Karen, this was an Indian holy place known as Nena. The story goes that these were healing waters. Makes for a good tale although I can't vouch for its' veracity. In any event, the Krauss' built a cabin and stayed here on the weekends instead of in their Salem home. Bill was a bit of a railroad buff and built this track as a children's park. It is open three months out of the year for kids and for social events, including pumpkin patch time in October. Bill died in 2002 and although Marie still lives on the property, she sold it to Karen and Jim. Originally from Michigan, Karen and Jim had settled in the San Diego area where she worked as a purchasing manager for UPS and Jim was an RN. Karen began to experience health problems from sun exposure and they decided they should move again but did not want the harsh winters of the upper midwest. What better place to cure their ills than to move to Oregon? Nice people and a surprise discovery.

I left the train park and made a short detour off of 226 to the community of Jordan. There is a pretty spectacular church up on this ridge. The Catholic congregation keeps Our Lady of Lourdes church and cemetery in pristine shape. The cemetery dates from 1884. If you follow Camp Morrison Road (and, no, I don't know where or why about Camp Morrison) it will dump you back down on 226. Right there at the intersection is the Hanna covered bridge, one of 10 in Linn County. This delightful little white bridge is constructed from Douglas Fir in the truss construction style. It was built in 1936.

Continuing west along 226, the highway makes a forced left at Scio, a nifty little town that looks as if it could be the setting for movies about growing up in the 40's and 50's. I continued on, aiming for Crabtree. Just north of town is another covered bridge that spans Crabtree Creek. Also done in with truss construction, this bridge differs from the others in the county by having windows instead of being open-sided or completely closed. I couldn't resist a quick drive into Crabtree itself. Another impressive church was the focal point of "Main Street." Upon closer inspection I decided that the best view of the church is from at least 100 yards away as it appeared to be held up primarily by the many coats of white paint. Certainly the loudest place in town was just 50 feet down the road on the opposite side of the street. There a tavern, with several Harley's parked out front, was pumping out loud music. A ZZ-Top look-alike character was standing on the (wood) sidewalk with a cigarette disappearing into his beard. This was no place to stop and ask for a sarsaparilla. Driving out of town I also noticed a neat old place that must have been a mercantile and a garage. Parked in front were two old Corvairs that matched the patina of the building.

Back out onto 226 and to the intersection with Hwy 20 westbound, I made my way back to smelly old Albany and the I-5 junction. From there it is just a 45 minute hop back up to home and I put the 914 away after thoroughly enjoying the last of the warm weather for this year.