Students enjoyed a snapshot of farm life, from playing with the animals to harvesting their own food for dinner. Click on any photo to view a larger image, download the picture, or start the slide show.
Bicycling along paved mountain roads, surrounded by the colors of the fall, seventeen Catlin Gabel students and four leaders made a 60 mile tour of the high Cascades of Oregon during a flawless October weekend.
The trip began on a Friday morning at a snow park about six miles south of Government Camp just past Clear Lake. The group unloaded its belogings from the bus and strapped some of them on to their trusty two-wheelers while putting the rest in a friendly van that would help transport the gear from one forest campsite to the next. The trip was planned so as to be entirely on paved roads through the Mt. Hood National Forest and Willamette National Forest.
The first day featured some ups and some downs as far as elevation gain went. We had a nice lunch near Little Crater Lake, a little visited gem of this great state, and made a visit to the nearby Pacific Crest Trail. From here we biked back up to Forest Service Road 42, our main artery of travel and proceeded to Timothy Lake. A few students roused the courage to wade in its chilly waters. That evening we camped at Summit Lake and feasted on a lengthy spaghetti dinner.
Day two provided glorious downhill biking along narrow and winding forest roads, all the way down to the Clackamas River. We ate our lunch right beside the river while some hearty souls tested the icy waters. From here we biked south along FS 46 to an obscure campsite along Sisi Creek. The students spent the afternoon playing capture the flag and a memorable game of Ultimate Frisbee on the narrow and nearly deserted forest road.
Our final day started with a challenging climb up to the pass that seperates the Clackamas River drainage from that of the Santiam River. Once on top, and with little or no warning, we embarked on an unending downhill ride of 14 miles that took us right into the town of Detroit. The smiles wouldn't stop. Most fun ever.
On Friday, September 27, alumni from the classses of 1933 – 1958 came to campus to have lunch in the new Creative Artst Center and to celebrate our school's history.
On Saturday, September 28, we presented Distinguished Alumni Awards to Gretchen Corbett '63, Willard "Wick" Rowland '62, and Amani Reed '93. We also honored retired teacher Dave Corkran, recipient of the Joey Day Pope '54 Volunteer Award.
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The wild weekend weather forecast and perniciously persistent illness conspired to whittle away at the participant list over the course of the week leading up to our departure on this adventure. From what had originally been a nearly full activity-bus-load of 11 students and 2 leaders, timidity and sickness diminished our number to a mere 4 students and 2 leaders standing in the parking lot by the bus on Saturday morning at departure time. The gray skies and forbidding forecast notwithstanding, there was great enthusiasm and energy throughout this small but intrepid group as we loaded the bus and left Catlin on time.
On the two hour drive to the mountain the skies grew darker and the rain showers more frequent. The multi setting speed control on the windshield wipers had to be adjusted to ever faster rates the closer we got to our destination. At the turnoff to Ape Cave, we paused to discuss our options. A brief, transitory lessening of the deluge deluded us into carrying on to the Lava Canyon Trailhead, following the planned itinerary. We were the only vehicle in the parking lot. After suiting up in our rain gear, we set off down the paved trail to the canyon floor as the rain intensity picked up again. The impervious pavement provided a wide channel for the water to flow down, switchback after switchback. Artistically placed logs that made distinct natural borders for the path in fine weather now were dams keeping the water on the path and creating deep pools that spanned the pavement forcing us to teeter along the logs in a futile effort to keep our feet dry. The creek at the bottom of the canyon, impressive at any time as it winds its way over old lava flows and cascades over their edges, was even more spectacular now, swollen with rainwater, opaquely brown with silt, and raging through its whirlpools and over its waterfalls. We passed safely over it on a high steel bridge, and then back on an even higher, satisfyingly swaying suspension bridge. In the river below the next rampaging waterfall we could hear large boulders shifting in the current, moved along by the unusually high volume of water.
We left the paved portion of the trail and followed the narrow and steep path cut into the precipitous cliffs along the dramatic canyon uncovered by the lahar flow from the 1980 eruption and made more striking by the years of erosion by the creek in just such weather as this. Even the trail was being reworked by the rainfall, as runoff made its way down the steep incline of the narrow path, carrying small loose pebbles along with it before finally cascading over the cliffside to join the brown torrent below. Side creeks that normally would be an easy crossing required careful footwork and adroit jumping to cross their full-spate cascades splashing over the trail. We paused to admire the distinct contacts between different lava flows, and to notice the unusual cooling in one flow that resulted in laminar cracks rather than the more common columns. We were finally turned back by a creek too wide to jump and with no convenient logs to serve as bridges or stepping stones.
We climbed aboard the bus, and some made the first of many changes of clothing in a futile effort to keep dry-clad – an effort that soon exhausted the dry clothes supply. The interior of the bus was quickly festooned with dripping clothing. In betweenst the drips we ate our lunches – not dry, but at least out of the rain.
On the drive back towards Ape Cave, the streams running off the upper lahar and across low places in the road were noticeably deeper than they had been on the way out. The water reached up at least to the hubcaps of the bus as we dipped through en route to higher (but not much drier) ground. Despite the by now continuous heavy rainfall, the large parking lot at Ape Cave was ¾ full of vehicles. Many people seemed to be seeking a drier outing underground on this soggy day. This turned out to be a vain hope. While there’s often a bit of dripping from the roof overhead at the entrance to the cave, the great volume of rain from this storm meant that the permeable basalt flow above dripped through the entire length of the tube. There was a stream of water running along the floor of the lava tube from entrance to end, a distance of ¾ mile. In the narrower and steeper sections the sound of the rushing water echoed off the damp stone walls and made the unusual underground stream sound even larger. The drips underground were larger and heavier than the raindrops above, so there was no doffing of raincoats or ponchos as we had hoped to be able to do. At the bottom end of the tube, a lake had formed on the sand floor that now blocks the lower exit to the tube. Presumably the water will slowly seep through the sand and return the cave to its more usual damp but waterless state once this storm has abated. We took advantage of a lull between other visitors to turn off all our lights to appreciate just how dark the inside of a cave is. (It’s REALLY dark.) The experience was novel this time, though, due to the extra noises. Usually it’s very quiet during this experiment, only the shuffling of our own group disturbing the silence. This time we heard the distant noises of other groups farther up the tube and the continual rush of the running water flowing down to meet us at the lake.
We drove down the road to the Trail of Two Forests parking lot. The lot was almost completely filled with sheriff’s vehicles, so we had to park our bus and trailer in the turnout outside. (The trailer had been arranged back when the trip roster was much larger. It now contained only the drinking water containers and fuel canisters. With the smaller group size that we now actually had, all gear fit inside the bus, out of the rain, although not necessarily dry.) Talking to two of the strapping, large men in the lot, we found that they were part of a search and rescue operation looking for a lost mushroom picker in the wet woods. We were on a quest to find Lake Cave, another lava tube, unmarked, that I had learned of the existence of only the day before from Peter. The friendly searchers in the lot confirmed that the entrance was hard to find. One of them only was only able to find it with the aid of his GPS unit and by knowing its exact coordinates. The searcher-in-chief at the parking lot was not thrilled at our plan of heading off into the woods to find a location that we didn’t know. We promised not to go far, and to not become another search project for him. In the event, we found the entrance to the cave easily and quite quickly. Peter’s scant, but accurate, directions enabled us to walk almost directly to it. This cave we had to ourselves. There was a metal ladder to descend into the main part of the lava tube, and then a lot of scrambling over large rock falls to proceed to the lower sections. Although some of the party was able to descend a short but steep wall into a large, open chamber, others of us were not, so the entire group turned around at this point, satisfied at having found and explored the cave exclusively, but a little disappointed at not having encountered its eponymous lake. We returned safely and entirely to the parking lot, where we checked back in with the search director. Then, as long as we were there, we took the Trail of Two Forests loop hike. It’s all paved and boardwalked, so there’s little chance of getting lost. The volcanic features on display here were new to many of the group. Several also did The Crawl, wriggling through two tree casts in the lava flow that now make a rough, hard, narrow tunnel that was today rather damp. Just as we loaded the bus, one of the searchers came over to tell us the rescue effort had just made voice contact with the missing mushroom hunter.
We headed east on FR 90 towards our campground. The weather continued extremely wet. Even though it was only mid-afternoon, the skies were so thickly beclouded that it seemed more like evening. The winding road was littered with leaves and branches. Although the conditions were now windless, so that the rain came straight down, it must have been very windy earlier. The obstacles meant extreme attention was needed for driving safely. We reached the campground about 4:30. There were three other hardy parties, with well-established camp setups amidst the general sogginess. We found a site with sufficient open, puddle-free ground for our tents and a table with trees around for the tying up of a sheltering tarp. In the continuous rainfall, the tents were quickly erected, and with three long lengths of rope, the tarp was carefully hung, centered over the table. It proved to have an unexpected, but very convenient feature – it was self-bailing. As the rain water collected into an ever deeper pool on the top, causing the whole affair to sag closer to the table, the center of mass shifted, and the pool moved towards the edge of the tarp. At a critical time, the whole pool poured itself over the edge, and the lightened tarp rose above our heads. Then the whole process started over again. Once we’d gotten over our amazement and astonishment at this phenomenon, we turned it even further to our advantage and started catching the water dumps in our dishpans to use as dishwashing water. As the water pump was quite a distance from our campsite, this was a much more convenient way to obtain the wash water.
By staying under the continually falling and rising tarp, we were able to stay fairly dry (and in close conversation) while dinner was prepared: Caesar salads, French bread, and tortellini in cream sauce with peas. This was sandwiched in between (even though it was much more than sandwiches!) endless rounds of hot drinks, the consumption of all of which did much to buoy our dampened spirits. As darkness fell, however, the rainfall increased rather than tapering off. The puddles between the tents continued to grow and started to encroach on the tents themselves. The time between auto-dumps on the tarp (Vince was timing them) shortened from nearly 6 minutes to 3 minutes and then to 2 minutes. A walk to the outhouse, away from the shelter of the tarp, resulted in saturation of bits of clothing that to this point in the day had remained dry, despite the continuous deluge. Part of the wetness was brought on by a detour to see the lower falls of the Lewis River, which were just beyond the outhouse. The falls were a spectacular sight – a luminous curtain of white in the deep gloom of the drenched evening, rushing loudly over a wide swath of rock. The overabundance of the recent additions to the water supply undoubtedly added to the magnificence, and promoted lingering to appreciate the spectacle, while contributing to the sogginess of the trip personnel.
Throughout the adventure to this point the attitude and enthusiasm of the intrepid few who were partaking in the expedition had been exemplary. There was continuous conversation keeping things lively and interesting, and consistent excitement about the excessively wet but still enthralling escapades that kept bobbing up before us. As the rainfall rate seemed set to keep increasing, the tents (along with just about everything else we had) were saturated and sodden, and the prospect was now to head to a wet bed at 7 pm, for a long and soggy night, with the forecast for tomorrow’s weather no better, it seemed best to end the trip at this point, with spirits and enthusiasm still high. So, by general agreement, we packed up the soggy tents and dishes and stuffed everything in the bus. Despite the darkness and the drenching downpour, we had everything packed and tucked in the bus within half an hour, helped along by dessert brownies.
The adventure was not yet over, however. The deserted roads were still littered with leaves, branches, and occasionally rocks that had to be avoided. We proceeded slowly and cautiously along the interminable windings of the shortcut down to Carson and the straighter, more main roads along the Columbia that we hoped would speed our return to Portland. It was a good thing that the proceeding was cautious, as rounding one sharp turn on the descent to the Wind River Valley, the high-beam headlights revealed, through the curtain of falling rain, an entire tree fallen across the road, blocking it completely. Further (wet) investigation up close showed that the tree, while certainly too substantial to be simply heaved aside, was small enough to be susceptible to sawing. Fortunately we HAD a saw, brought in the expectation that we might find firewood to supplement the supply we had brought for a fire for our smores. The sodden nature of the firepit and all local potential firewood meant that the saw hadn’t been brought out until now. It proved up to the task, with enough effort from many of the party, of clearing half of the roadway. Comparisons were made by those who had been on the Elana Gold Project this past June to the trail clearing efforts we (successful and more drily) made then using the same saw. We threw the cut and broken tree pieces over the embankment, reboarded the bus, and continued on our wet way. 10 miles farther on, red and blue flashing lights erupted behind the bus, so we pulled over at the first turnout, and they pulled in behind us. What Now? It was another sheriff, looking for a search and rescue training (not the actual rescue that we had seen, we soon established,) that no one had thought to tell him the location of. Seeing our bus, he thought we might be transporting searchers-in-training. We had to inform him otherwise, and he set off on his continuing search effort, while we resumed our continuously eventful progress towards Portland. The roads were now more main and frequented and less nature-littered, although not any less wet. We passed through Carson, and headed west on Washington 14. We crossed the river at Bridge of the Gods, thinking that a quick hour’s drive on I-84 would return us to Catlin. Ha! The toll taker on the Oregon side, hearing that we were heading west, told us that I-84 was closed, due to an accident, and he couldn’t say when it might open again. He allowed us to make U turn and return to the Washington side of the river toll-free. We continued west on WA 14. As we approached Vancouver, the rainfall slackened enough that I could finally turn the windshield wipers off completely for the last half hour. It was the first time they’d been off for more than two minutes at a stretch all day. We arrived back at Catlin about 10:30, just as the Homecoming Dance was winding up, and where parents soon retrieved their soggy, but contented offspring, who now had so many tales to relate.
The adventure was not yet ended, however, as after cleaning and securing our steady, reliable bus, I drove home, over leaf and tree-bit strewn roads (it must have been very stormy in Portland, too,) to find my street even darker than usual in stormy weather. When the garage door failed to open despite repeated pressings of the opener, I realized that the power must be out. Not only was my house dark (which I had expected) but all the neighbors’ were too. So I ended up going to bed by flashlight after all. At least the bed was totally dry. And by the time I got up the next morning (not very early) the power had been restored. (It has been raining almost all day today – conducive to the writing up of our adventure and confirming the wisdom of having called an ending to the trip at a highpoint last night. Chilly, wet hiking in saturated woods today, with no views of the volcanic crater would have been quite poor ending after all of yesterday’s exciting events.)
Although the account of these exploits may seem incredible, they are all true. (And they all happened in a single day.) What is even more amazing, and for which I am exceedingly grateful, is that the natural winnowing process described the opening paragraph of this account yielded a superb expeditionary force, whose enthusiasm and spirits remained high throughout, who were excited about ALL the activities we did, the challenges we faced and overcame, and changes we had to implement. Despite the excessive moisture component (far exceeding even rafting trips) we were subjected to, the attitudes, positive participation, continued cheerfulness, and appreciation of the adventure of every single member of the expedition made a very successful and exciting excursion out of what very easily could have been a soggy mess. I would eagerly lead another (ideally drier) adventure anywhere with this exemplary team.
Dear Catlin Gabel community members,
At the recommendation of the head search committee and on behalf of the board of trustees, I am delighted to announce that we have appointed Timothy Bazemore the next head of Catlin Gabel School.
Tim is currently the head of school at New Canaan Country School, a preschool–grade 9 coed school for 630 students in Connecticut. He is a proven leader with invaluable experience as both a classroom teacher and an administrator in independent schools. He brings to Catlin Gabel an exceptional background in progressive education and commitment to our lasting values: diversity, sustainability, and innovation in the classroom. During his interactions with the search committee, board, students, parents, faculty-staff, and alumni Tim demonstrated outstanding communication and interpersonal skills with wisdom and humanity. We are confident that Catlin Gabel will continue to serve as a national model for progressive education and to flourish in ways that are right for our school under Tim’s leadership.
Tim will begin his tenure as head of school on July 1, 2014. We look forward to a seamless transition, thanks to Lark Palma’s continuing leadership, our strong and seasoned administrative team, and our world-class faculty and staff.
“I am tremendously excited and honored to join the Catlin Gabel community next year,” wrote Tim. “During the search process, I was impressed by the energy, joy, and sense of purpose shared by everyone I met on campus. Under Lark Palma’s inspired leadership, the faculty and staff have created an extraordinary learning environment. I look forward to working in partnership with teachers and parents to ensure that every Catlin Gabel student benefits from a dynamic progressive education in the years ahead.”
Tim has been the head of New Canaan Country School since 2000. Through his work as vice chair of the Independent School Data Exchange (INDEX), Tim is leading the national conversation about progressive education and student skills assessment. Born and raised in Lewiston, New York, Tim graduated from Hotchkiss School in 1978. He earned a BA in history from Middlebury College and an MA in history from the University of Pennsylvania. He began his career as a 6th–12th grade humanities teacher at Chestnut Hill Academy, a K–12 school of 550 students in Philadelphia. During his 13 years with Chestnut Hill, Tim assumed increasing responsibility, moving from classroom teacher to director of middle and upper school admission, and then to head of the middle school. He and his wife, Lisa, have two sons, Luke, 15, and Tyler, 23.
The board and I are extremely grateful to the head search committee, chaired by Peter Steinberger, for leading a meticulous and inclusive process in which all voices were heard.
Thank you to the many parents, faculty, staff, students, alumni, and friends who participated by attending presentations and providing feedback. Community devotion to Catlin Gabel’s future was fully evidenced by your more than 1,000 survey responses, all of which the search committee read thoroughly.
We look forward to welcoming Tim and his family to Portland and Catlin Gabel.
Steve Gordon, MD, board chair
Inspired by former arts faculty members, Drawing Together Day on September 9, 2013, brought back a tradition to campus: a time when people of all ages take time to draw. When the drawings were done, they were assembled into a chandelier-like structure and installed in Catlin Gabel's new Creative Arts Center. Visitors to the building are inspired by the demonstration of creativity, and the school's commitment to the arts. And the students love to find their drawing hanging there!
Regretfully, Richard Abel's obituary listing in the Caller magazine omitted his first name. We will run this correction in the next edition.
Father of Kit Abel Hawkins ’65 & Corinne Abel Bacher ’75;
grandfather of Will Hawkins ’97, Alex Bacher ’06, Eloise Bacher ’07 & Beatrix Bacher ’10
From the Summer 2013 Caller
Congratulations, Class of 2013!
Alumni Association Year at a Glance
Alumni Weekend 2013
Alumni Weekend Activities
Susie Greenebaum ’05, associate director of alumni relations, firstname.lastname@example.org
Owen Gabbert ’02, alumni board president
From the Summer 2013 Caller
AUCTION AND TUITION ON THE TRACK: SUCCESS!
NEWS FROM HONEY HOLLOW
OUR AMAZING STUDENTS
SCIENCE AND MATH KUDOS
SPORTS AND ATHLETICS
From the Summer 2013 Caller
From the Summer 2013 Caller
One aspect of the Creative Arts Center that excites me is that different art types will all be together in one building. This close proximity opens up a chance for crossover between the arts. I got a little taste of what this might be like as the 3D class worked on natural outdoor sculptures inspired by Andy Goldsworthy. We worked with media arts teacher Nance Leonhardt to combine sculpture and photography by photographing our works and keeping the pictures as our final product. Photography and sculpture is just one combination, and I am eager to see how other arts can overlap in the CAC.
From the Summer 2013 Caller
From the Summer 2013 Caller
From the Summer 2013 Caller