Marys Peak: Site of unusual wildflowers, long views, and a wild Native legend

A hike up Marys Peak promises wildflowers, views and echoes of Kalapuyan legends. The highest point in Oregon’s Coast Range was sacred to the tribe. It’s still a hallowed place to walk. I’ll tell you about the hike in a minute. First let me tell you about the legend.

The Kalapuyans of the Willamette Valley had already been decimated by disease when pioneer settlers arrived. As much as 100 years earlier, seafaring explorers had unknowingly brought measles, smallpox, diphtheria and influenza to the Northwest coast. The Luckiamute band of Kalapuyans, including the Marys River subgroup at Corvallis, might once have numbered 1,000. By 1905, 28 survived. By 1910, there were only eight.

As a result, most Kalapuyan legends have been lost. But fragments reveal that the trickster Coyote was a central character in their dramas. As with most Northwest tribes, the Kalapuyans set their tales in a protean age before humans.

In those days, animal spirits walked the earth as people do now. Coyote, a schemer whose plans often went awry, was the most powerful of these legendary demigods. And Marys Peak was Coyote’s favorite retreat.

The tribe knew Marys Peak as Chateemanwi, “the place where spirits dwell.” The mountain hosts noble firs and alpine flowers unknown in the rest of Coast Range. Why are the odd plants here? There’s a touch of truth to the explanation in the Kalapuyans’ legend.

Long ago when spirits lived on the earth as animals, the legend says a terrible monster roamed the Willamette Valley by night. The monster seemed unstoppable, devouring any animal spirits it met, and then retreating to the safety of a cave by day. Panther went to ask Coyote for advice.

“Of course I’m not afraid for myself,” Panther explained, “but I worry about my beautiful young wife.”

“I see,” Coyote replied, his thoughts straying already as he tried to picture Panther’s beautiful wife.

After a moment Panther prodded, “So what do you suggest doing?”

“About what?”

“About the monster.”

Coyote waved his paw. “Oh, that’s easy enough. Obviously the monster can’t stand sunlight. That’s its weakness. Trick it out of the cave by day, and it’ll be blind. Then you can finish it off in no time.”

“That might work. But how can we trick it out of its cave?”

“Well, I’ll just —” Coyote hesitated. No ideas sprang to mind. “Wait here a moment. I’d better make sure my son is watching the fire.” Coyote slipped out, but didn’t bother checking on his son. Instead he slapped his hip to call out his feces for advice. Surprising as it may seem, they usually knew what to do, and he’d learned to trust them. He whispered to them, “How can I trick a monster out of its cave?”

The feces sang quietly, “Hide the sun, hide the sun.”

Coyote slapped the feces back in his anus. “Oh, I knew that all along.” He went back to Panther and told him to be ready for battle outside the monster’s cave. Then he took his bow and climbed to the top of Marys Peak. There he shot an arrow into the sun. He shot another and another, each squarely into the tail feathers of the last. When the arrows formed a long chain that reached down to earth, he pulled down the sun, walked back into the valley, and tied the sun to the bottom of the Willamette River.

Right away it was so dark you could see the stars dancing overhead. Before long Coyote could hear the growls and roars of a distant struggle. “That must be Panther and the monster fighting,” Coyote thought. The plan seemed to be working. Fooled by the darkness, the monster had evidently decided it was time to come out for the night, and had run straight into Panther. “Now I just need to blind the monster.”

Coyote dove back into the river and cut loose the sun. As soon as the sun popped back up into the air, the sky was blazingly bright. Coyote rested on the riverbank, listening again to the distant roars of the fight. The battle seemed to be lasting a very long time. He couldn’t tell from the sound who was winning, Panther or the monster.

“If Panther wins,” Coyote reasoned, “He’ll be so grateful for my help that he’ll want to give me an excellent gift — probably his beautiful wife. On the other hand, if the monster wins, I really should take it upon myself to care for Panther’s widow. Either way I might as well go get her now.”

Satisfied with this logic, Coyote went to Panther’s home. Panther’s wife was even more beautiful than he had imagined. Coyote explained the situation as best he could but was disappointed when she didn’t want to go with him. So Coyote simply took her away. He didn’t let her out of his sight for weeks to make sure she wouldn’t escape.

One day when they returned home from a hunt, Coyote asked, “Where’s my son? He should be here watching the fire.”

Panther’s wife replied, “Can’t you see the tracks? Panther’s been here. He must have taken your son hostage because you took me.”

“He can’t do that!” Coyote roared. “I’ll track him down and get my son back.”

Panther’s wife shook her head. “You’ll never find them. Panther is much stealthier than you are. He’s a better husband.”

Coyote had never been so angry.

“We’ll see if I can’t flush Panther out.” He stormed down the valley and dug an enormous dam across the Willamette River. Then he took Panther’s wife with him to the top of Marys Peak. There he waited while the valley slowly filled with water. Before long all the plants and animals were retreating before the flood, seeking high ground. After a few days they were clustered at the top of Marys Peak, begging Coyote to breach the dam.

“We’d rather face a monster than have floods like this,” one of them said.

Coyote wouldn’t listen. Finally he saw Panther swimming toward Marys Peak with Coyote’s son on his back. “Aha!” Coyote shouted. “So now you’re ready to give back my son.”

Panther kept swimming. “No, I like swimming. I came to see if you were ready to trade your son for my wife. Or would you rather wait some more?”

Panther’s wife whispered to Coyote, “He’s a much better swimmer than you are. He’s a better husband all around.”

Coyote was beginning to think he could live without Panther’s wife. He decided to make the trade and tear down the dam.

After the flood had finally ebbed, most of the plants and animals came down from Marys Peak. But quite a few liked it up there and stayed.

How much truth lies behind the Kalapuyan tales? Geologists report that the Willamette Valley was in fact filled from wall to wall 300 feet deep by a series of Ice Age floods from a Canadian glacier that repeatedly dammed a branch of the Columbia River.

As for the strange alpine plants atop Marys Peak, similar plants flourished throughout western Oregon during the colder weather of the Ice Age. As the climate warmed, these species retreated to the highest point of the Coast Range, a biological island.

Ready to take the trip?

Today the easiest hike atop this legendary peak is the stroll to the summit from the observation point parking lot. It’s a walk of about a half-mile along a gated gravel service road. On a clear day, views extend from Mount Rainier to Mount Thielsen, with the ocean on the horizon to the west. Patches of snow can linger into April. July colors the summit meadows with red paintbrush, purple penstemon, white yarrow and blue butterflies.

For a less crowded route to the summit, try the slightly longer Meadow Edge Trail. This loop begins at the Marys Peak campground, climbs to the summit through the unusual grove of huge noble firs, and returns alongside a quiet wildflower meadow.

From Corvallis, drive Highway 20 west toward the Oregon Coast for 6 miles. Just beyond Philomath, fork left onto Highway 34 toward Waldport for 8.8 miles. Then turn right on paved Marys Peak Road for 9.5 miles to its end at the observation point parking lot. A Northwest Forest Pass is required. The $5 per car fee can be paid at a box by the trailhead, or purchased online.

This column originally appeared in William Sullivan’s book, “Exploring Oregon’s History,” published in 2021.