Journalist By Nature: Mastering the Stairs

Italianate mansion moved in 1910

The topography of Portland significantly influenced its development: ancient Indian campsites on the river banks, the confluence of the Columbia and Willamette Rivers, the Tualatin Mountain ridge on the west side and the various buttes scattered on the east side of the city. Water traffic brought explorers, trade, pioneers and speculators. Last week we viewed the now "dry docked" houseboats of yesteryear, moved to solid foundations after floods ripped them from their moorings. From the riverbanks businesses and blue collar workers' homes sprang up, filling the flat land efficiently.

The moneyed businessmen and professionals who spent their working hours in the city built their extravagant homes higher in the west hills as a means of distancing themselves and their families from the lower income masses below. Elitists in their perspective, they formed exclusive neighborhoods on the steep hillsides where views of the Cascade Range mountains, the glistening rivers and the fertile valleys rewarded their expensive endeavors.

Early stairs to one home

Connecting these precipitous properties that terrace the west hills on winding, narrow roadways are thousands of stairs. Laura Foster authored a book, The Portland Stairs Book, listing many of their locations and mapped out routes for city hikers to explore them. Today's hike encompassed the area between OHSU and the tunnels of Highway 26, a 3.5 mile jaunt through elegance, decay, Italianate, algae-covered siding, apartments, and a homeless camp mid-stairway.

Dragon boat warriors at practice

Meeting at the Riverplace Breakwater Dock we remarked on the development of the riverfront area with its high density housing, marina, foot paths and views of the city's bridges. A team of dragon boat paddlers gathered for an early morning workout, oars slicing through the murky waters in coordinated tempo, hearts yearning for a fine display of teamwork at the summer Rose Festival events. Climbing the first of our 631 stairs we followed Montgomery Street west, crossing the busy Naito Parkway, threading our way through the Portland State Campus, crossing the busy and noisy I-405 trench to arrive in a quieter area on Broadway Drive.

White "ball" is someone's place

Early 1900's workers' homes sit adjacent to newer, more modern structures. Some lots have common wall row houses, each with a different face and color, mimicking the original houses below. Steeply pitched lots are fronted with stone and cement walls engineered to hold back the hillside. Moss covers many of the surfaces in the deep, cool shade of this eastern exposure as ivy makes its inexorable raid everywhere. A set of 201 wooden stairs with 13 landings and an encouraging "you are beautiful" stencil is the major challenge of this hike. Half way up, a plastic-shrouded, legless armchair squats on a landing, making someone's "home". We pass by as quietly and quickly as possible, not peeking into the tenant's space.

The narrow, rough and aged roads wind around the curvature of the hills, stone walls on the upper sides and beautiful views both near and far on the lower sides. Houses here have three to five levels, many with little balconies, copious windows, tiny garages and impossible maintenance issues. Steel girders support some of the cantilevered structures while cement, stone and brick foundations hold up the older homes. Happening upon a real estate agent just leaving one house, we discovered the asking price was $675,000 for this 2500 square foot, tri-level, kiwi-fronted with a glorious new kitchen listing. She was hoping to sell it to her ex-husband. But that's a story for another day.

More stairs, some now descending, others ascending lead us by mansions of Mediterranean, English timber and Italianate architectural styles. These are homes you could never see whizzing by at 60 m.p.h. on the freeway, yet they watch you in silent aloofness. One multi-storied Italianate, built in 1882, was moved in 1910 to its present location. Imagine the task using hand tools, block and tackle cranes, oxen or horse teams and huge wagons plus the challenge of elevation. It would be herculean today; how much more so a hundred years ago! Another 1871 mansion was moved in order to make way for Lincoln High School. It currently houses an immersion French School. A heritage Blue Atlas cedar marks the corner of its property in the shadow of a high rise apartment building under construction.

The Tunnels on 26

Strolling sharply downhill we entered a tunnel running under the twin tunnels of Highway 26, this one joining up with S.W. Jefferson in the Goose Hollow neighborhood. Jefferson was originally a muddy thoroughfare travelled by farmers bringing their produce from the western areas to market in the city. Rain only made it an unusable quagmire so planks were positioned to create a passable road in the winter. The Goose Hollow MAX stop is marked by symbolic slabs of wood in a nod to the early planking.

After our leg-fatiguing stairs tour we stopped by the Oregon Culinary Institute in hopes of gaining a table for lunch but alas, the reservations were filled for the meal. The school manager suggested a graduate-staffed eatery down the avenue called the Leaky Roof Gastro Pub. Here we found warmth, no leaks and hearty fare while surrounded by photographs of elegant Portland architecture. With the precipitation steadily increasing, we decided to catch the MAX there rather than hoofing it back to the waterfront, leaving half our group to enjoy the urban stroll to their car near the dock. The $2 RT fare sure beats the afternoon traffic!