



n each issue of The Other Oregon we try to bring you stories that reflect what’s going on in Oregon’s rural communities. Here’s a preview of some of the stories you’ll find in the pages that follow.
• Farmstands are ubiquitous throughout rural Oregon. Because the rules that govern farmstands are vague, they come in a variety of shapes and sizes, from simple roadside canopies to elaborate buildings and attractions.
An attempt this year to clarify the rules caused a kerfuffle that pitted owners and stakeholders with different priorities against one another.
Longtime contributor Nella Mae Parks, herself a small farmer and farmstand operator, adds her perspective to the debate.
• Freelance writer Carolyn Campbell has the story of city-based developer Ben Gates and rural old-timer Rod Woodside who are working together to bring affordable housing to Maupin in Wasco County.
Without new, affordable housing stock, rural Oregon towns won’t attract new residents to help revitalize the community and its institutions. Is it too late for Maupin?
“It’s never too late as long as you’re willing to pick up your bootstraps,” Woodside said.
• For rural communities, Oregon State University’s Extension Service has long been a vital resource that has connected farmers, homemakers, and youth with expertise and programming to address critical needs.
It’s a cooperative arrangement between the state, counties and the USDA.
Mateusz Perkowski reports that after a two-decade hiatus, OSU’s Extension Service has resumed programming in urban Multnomah County. Despite facing another tough budget situation this year, Multnomah County’s government recently decided to allocate $40,000 for Extension.
Many Oregonians place a premium on summer, but fall has always been my favorite season.
There’s something about the quality of the light as the sun moves lower in the sky. It casts a glow, particularly in the twilight, that’s unmistakable. And when it’s not raining, the autumn sky in the Willamette Valley is bluer than at any other time. Autumn makes Oregon even more beautiful. These days are dear.
— Joe Beach
Editor/Publisher Joe Beach
Contributors
Carolyn Campbell
Isabella Crowley
Jayson Jacoby
Nella Mae Parks
Mateusz Perkowski
Designer
John D. Bruijn
COVER STORY
Maupin residents call for affordable housing » 4
FEATURES
South Wasco addresses livability issues » 8
OSU’s Extension returns to Multnomah County » 12
Paraglider soars above Northeastern Oregon » 14
THE LAND
Oregon’s farmstand kerfuffle » 18
Qapqapa Wildlife Area » 29
THE CULTURE
Bigfoot inspired movie set in La Grande » 22 Oregon farmer films civil war-era short film. » 26
Editor/ Publisher
Joe Beach, jbeach@eomediagroup.com
Published by The Other Oregon © 2025 POSTMASTER: Send address changes to The Other Oregon, P.O. Box 2048, Salem, OR 97308
On the cover: The city of Maupin in Wasco County. CAROLYN CAMPBELL PHOTO
The Other Oregon is distributed to 5,000 influential Oregonians who have an interest in connecting all of Oregon. As we strive to close the urban-rural divide, please help us with a donation. If you are a business leader, you can support our efforts by advertising to our unique audience.
To subscribe: TheOtherOregon.com/subscribe. For advertising information: TheOtherOregon.com/advertise
THANKS TO OUR SUSTAINING SUPPORTERS, WHO MAKE IT POSSIBLE TO DISTRIBUTE THE OTHER OREGON TO 5,000 INFLUENTIAL OREGONIANS AT NO CHARGE
A city-based developer and a rural old-timer call for affordable housing before it’s too late.
STORY BY CAROLYN CAMPBELL
Rod Woodside, owner of Richmond’s Service in Maupin, Ore., stood with his arms crossed over his black overalls and grease-stained gray T- shirt.
Pushing 70, at over six feet, dirt under his nails, wild gray hair, and a large barrel chest, Woodside could be a mill worker, a rancher, a fabricator, or a mechanic. He’s been all of them. As well as a computer programmer. Considered the patriarch of the town by many, Woodside could be intimidating if it weren’t for the twinkle in his eye.
Once a thriving mill town, now a rafting destination along the Deschutes River, Woodside’s town of Maupin is changing fast. Some old-timers say too fast. Newcomers and young folks say it’s not fast enough. Pointing to the rotting boards dangling from the overhang of his gas station, he grumbled. “I’m told those need to be torn down and the support beams replaced. I’m kind of regretting it. I’m gonna be trying to pump gas while everything is torn apart.”
Ben Gates, the owner of Maupin Works, the town’s Business
Accelerator, talked Woodside into this ‘facelift’ and helped him apply for a “Main Street Match Grant.”
Walking through his station, Woodside listed the necessary repairs, including a new roof, a new service bay door, and an updated waste oil heater converting used car oil to heat and cool the building.
When asked whether he liked the changes Gates recommended, Woodside stated gruffly, “If I didn’t like ‘em, they wouldn’t happen.” Looking across to city hall Woodside added, “I grew up raising Cain over there, bucking all the time trying to get new things. Now I’ve become one of the old guys. I remember being the burr in the saddle. Now I watch the new burrs.”
Gates, a newcomer, came to Maupin 2017 when the city council put out a call for a ‘developer with a heart’ to purchase the old City Hall and Library. An architect and developer with a national reputation for his collaborative community-focused approach to development, Gates converted the property into a business
Once a thriving mill town, now a rafting destination along the Deschutes River, the town of Maupin is changing fast. Some old-timers say too fast. Newcomers and young folks say it’s not fast enough.
incubator/accelerator dedicated to increasing opportunities for area businesses.
Gates, in his own understated way, is a modern-day burr. Beneath his calm demeanor, button-down shirt, and city-centric haircut, Gates too is bucking the system, the larger system where historic and systemic issues have resulted in lagging employment opportunities and a crippling housing crisis both here and in rural communities across the country.
Since founding Urban Patterns in 2015, Gate has been a fierce advocate of economic development and affordable housing, forging stakeholder partnerships, procuring funding that serves the community as much as the developer, recognized for his partnering approach to earning (rather than expecting) community support and respect.
Unlike most of Gates’ projects where he is hired as the designer/ developer, Gates owns the Maupin Work Campus featuring a 1,000-square-foot co-working space and additional work spaces currently housing a fitness gym and a boutique coffee roaster.
Explaining his decision to own the business, Gates stated, “There’s a different type of personal investment and commitment when you own a business in a frontier community. I wanted Maupin Works to not only uplift small businesses but also support organizations and schools invested in growing an entrepreneurial economy.” »
Working in collaboration with state and regional funding agencies, Maupin Works offers high-speed internet, workspaces, classes, and a paid business ‘navigator.’ In collaboration with CO.STARTERS, a national business development program for emerging entrepreneurs, Maupin Works launched over a dozen new businesses including the town’s only coffee shop, a fitness gym, a direct-to-consumer coffee roaster, the only tribal market on any reservation in Oregon, a local newspaper, and a pilot program for the local high school’s youth entrepreneurship curriculum. They also provide workspace for the Chamber of Commerce, and incubator members including Grayson Morelli, a regenerative rancher selling 100% grassfed beef online.
Gates acknowledged that though they’ve had their naysayers, “As the demographic shifts from older folks to younger people wanting to launch their business, supporting emerging business owners while also helping older folks like Rod procure funding for long overdue repairs has been particularly rewarding.”
While forging partnerships across the region, discussions about cultivating entrepreneurial mindset quickly morphed into conversations about the current housing crisis.
Mark Ensdley, principal of South Wasco High School, stated, “What we’re facing is the ‘chicken or the egg’ syndrome. Nearly 50% of our prospective teachers rescind their offer due to lack of housing. If you don’t have housing, you can’t get employees. If you don’t have businesses, developers are reluctant to build.” Endsley cautioned, “If your school starts to fail, a county’s stability falters quickly. We are doing everything we can to ensure that doesn’t happen here.”
This year, when a housing project with the Columbia Gorge Housing Corporation fell through, regional leaders turned to Gates and his business partner James Lee, asking them to consider purchasing the land and building affordable housing. After numerous meetings with regional stakeholders, this spring Gates and Lee secured funding for a land feasibility study to identify potential risks and threats, with the hopes of securing financing.
Momentum was building. Partners like Principal Endsley hailed the efforts. Memberships at Maupin Works were increasing.
Then came funding cuts to small business development programs.
In August, Maupin Works lost its business navigator, their sole employee. Without reliable, ongoing funding or an employee, Gates found himself facing similar challenges to those he aimed to serve.
“It’s been tough,” Gates stated. Acknowledging that his financial stress pales in comparison to many businesses in the region, Gates added, “It’s helped me better understand the struggles many here face.”
Unlike many developers who’d cut their losses, leave town, and turn their attention to more stable propositions — as has historically happened in this community — Gates and Lee doubled down their efforts, intent on securing funding to build affordable housing on the bluff overlooking the Deschutes River.
Explaining his decision, Gates stated, “I’m proud of what Maupin Works has accomplished with our community and funding partners. It will morph as it needs to, but if we can’t solve the housing crisis, South Wasco County will continue to falter.”
When Woodside was asked about the project, he stated, “It might already be too late.” After his signature patriarch’s chuckle, he continued. “It’s never too late as long as you’re willing to pick up your bootstraps. That’s what we do out here. But getting affordable housing out here is long overdue.”
Though Woodside and Gates may not see eye to eye on many issues, when it comes to building affordable housing for teachers, nurses, and everyday folks living in the community, these two burrs, generations apart, are in full agreement. “If we are to solve our housing crisis and uplift our remote rural town, we need public and private partnerships. We need long-term funding from governmental agencies and community foundations.”
Carolyn Campbell is a freelance writer.
Technical assistance and Good Neighbor grants available for rural nonprofits and larger requests accepted aligned with our funding areas:
South Wasco Alliance invokes funders to become Collective Impact partners.
STORY BY CAROLYN CAMPBELL
Walking down a windswept road in the small high desert town of Shaniko, Ore., Pam Brown’s shadow grew long as the sun set behind her. Pioneer wagons, rusted Studebakers, and ‘60s muscle cars filled the lot alongside the town’s historic barn with SHANIKO painted in white on the red roof.
A designated ghost town, tourist destination and food desert in South Wasco County, the closest grocery store is 37 miles away. “Not even liquor or cigarettes,” Brown laughed.
At 40, Brown is Shaniko’s council president and one of a handful of residents not living on Social Security or Medicaid. Stopping at the pioneer chapel, Brown stepped inside. “My partner and I bought this and the surrounding property hoping to create a bluegrass community and yearly festival here. It would bring money and young people out here.”
Once known as the wool shipping capital of the world, at its peak in 1903, Shaniko sold $3 million of wool. In 1910 its population was 600. Today, with 31 residents, few with reliable transportation, the median income is $9,700 a year.
When asked about the primary concerns of her tiny town, Brown responded, “Economic stability, health care, and housing.” Food was fifth. “We don’t have the resources to address the other issues but helping each other get food builds trust and brings our community closer.”
Shaniko’s livability issues mirror those faced by the six other towns across the South Wasco portion of Wasco County. Spanning 1,000 square miles, the sparsely populated frontier region is home to towns including Shaniko, Tygh Valley, Wamic, Antelope, Maupin, Dufur, and Simnasho (located on the Warm Springs reservation).
In addition to being Shaniko’s council president, Brown is also a board member with South Wasco Alliance (SWA), a volunteer-run organization committed to improving the lives and livelihoods of residents across South Wasco County.
According to South Wasco Alliance’s board chair, Kate Willis, SWA was founded in 2015 to help mitigate unintended consequences of recreational tourism that can take a significant toll on aging infrastructure, housing stock, natural environment, and public services.
Shaniko’s livability issues mirror those faced by the six other towns in a sparsely populated,1,000 square mile, frontier region across the South Wasco portion of Wasco County
Bridging communities across geographical, class, race and culture barriers
Sitting on her back porch in Tygh Valley, Willis explained that although these towns represent diverse and conflicting pasts, isolation and geographic separation are the greatest barriers to improving the region’s economic opportunities and quality of life.
From its inception, South Wasco Alliance members knew they didn’t have the answers. Willis added, “We knew if we could connect across our remote communities, together we could find answers to issues threatening the livability of our region.” To build a coalition based on shared values and goals, South Wasco Alliance drew from multiple community-centered development approaches including Aspen Institute’s Rural Development Hub model.
Being a community bridge is fundamental to the success of Rural Development Hubs, according to Bonita Robertson Harding, co-executive director of Aspen Community Strategies Group. “Our communities are siloed. Our health and economic services are siloed. For rural communities to thrive, we must change the siloed approach –both in our lives and in our funding institutions.”
Trust is hard-earned and fragile
Robertson highlighted Aspen CSG’s fundamental motto. “Trust is built at the speed of relationship.” She added, “Building the necessary trust is hard, slow, invisible work that most organizations and foundations forget/ fail to do.”
Willis agreed. “Out here trust is hard-earned and fragile.” Wills asserted, “For nearly two centuries endless promises and treaties have been broken. Progress has come in fits and starts, but after years of coalition building, communities increasingly trust and support each other knowing we are all in this together.” »
Perhaps the most daunting challenge, according to Willis, is getting long-game funding dedicated to hiring local people to close the gaps identified through the organization’s ongoing partnership building in a once siloed region.
“We have been extremely fortunate to get incredible support from some of our state’s most committed foundations and supporters. What we need now is a team of Collective Impact funders and organizations pooling their resources and collaborating with us to help skill-up our workforce, address our mental health issues, and nurture our youth to build their own future.”
During a recent interview with Wyatt Beckman on Health on The Plains Coffee Hour, Roberston detailed why funders and foundations must move away from siloed thinking and siloed language.
“Many foundation and funding agencies don’t see how these issues are inextricably interwoven — housing here, health care there. You can’t address one without the other.” She asserted that to significantly move the needle in rural communities, funding agencies must realize the importance of working together to address issues simultaneously.
Equally important, according to Robertson, is altering the traditional funding metrics used in grant applications.
“Metric used in cities and even small towns don’t apply to our rural and frontier communities. Rural regions ‘outcomes’ will never match bigger cities, but their successes can have equal if not more impact.”
The power of partnerships.
With funding through Bridges to Health (B2H), in 2021 South Wasco Alliance hired June Reckmann, their first full-time Community Health Worker (CHW).
The following year, in collaboration with Portland State University, SWA surveyed local, county, regional and state stakeholders to purposefully identify and differentiate South Wasco’s needs from Wasco County’s northern I-84 Corridor. During the resulting convening, “South Wasco” was coined for purposes of advocacy and outreach.
“That event was a game changer,”
said Willis. “We finally felt that our hub’s boundary-spanning outreach efforts were gaining traction. By 2023, we were ready to survey our community to identify needs and local assets to see what gaps we might need to fill”
Working with regional organizations including South Wasco County library, SWA surveyed residents throughout the region through focus. Expecting economic development, housing, early childhood education, and behavioral health to be the regions primary concern, SWA was impressed with a number of ‘assets’ including culture keepers like Colette Cox and Howie Patt along with regional resources who provide services.
“It’s one thing to have a network of organizations to provide services and support,” said Willis. “But through this survey we realized how many people within our community either utilized or knew of their offerings.”
It’s said that there is a moment when small efforts build into a tipping point.
For South Wasco Alliance that moment at the end of 2023. Sponsored by Travel Oregon and Visit Central Oregon, SWA hosted the region’s first Familiarization (FAM) tour. Nearly 50 agencies, nonprofits, foundations, elected officials, and other key stakeholders met with residents and leaders in communities across the region. Willis credits that event for providing a springboard to receive technical assistance to file an application for their first federal grant.
“In late 2024 SWA was awarded a Community Economic Development Planning (HHS CED-P) grant from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. SWA was one of 10
organizations across the country to receive funding. Though South Wasco Alliance wrote the proposal, Willis emphasized, “Partners both within and beyond South Wasco enabled this success.”
As part of the HHS CED-P Grant, in addition to designing a strategic implementation plan including job descriptions, identifying workforce resources and wraparound support for each position, SWA is tasked with attaining additional funding to implement that plan.
“A tidal wave of work is coming,” Willis said. “We could do tiny grassroots ‘feel-good projects,’ but if we are to lift our region out of a historic downward spiral, we have to do the bigger work of building healthy, stable communities.”
As WSA expands its network even further to garner the necessary support for the next phase of community lifting, local leaders and advocates like Brown and Reckman balance growth with survival and whatever it takes to keep their communities alive.
In August, when a routine water sampling in Shaniko came back positive for E. coli, calls were made. Facebook posts were sent. A Walla Walla man drove 2 ½ hours to donate 300 gallons of water. Maupin’s city manager rushed to provide NSF-rated chlorine. Columbia Gorge Food Bank delivered a pallet of water.
Brown keeps a crockpot of chili brewing every day for anyone who’s hungry. When asked about the work of South Wasco Alliance and what community means to her, Brown said, “Community is the balance between sense of self and selflessness.”
STORY BY MATEUSZ PERKOWSKI
Oregon’s most urban region has regained access to the state’s foremost agriculture experts with a renewed partnership between Multnomah County and Oregon State University’s Extension Service.
The county government has reinstated a formal funding partnership with OSU Extension more than two decades after it was discontinued due to financial constraints.
Despite facing another tough budget situation this year, Multnomah County’s government recently decided to allocate $40,000 for Extension, which will be augmented with contributions from OSU and the USDA, said Kris Elliott, director of the university’s Extension Service.
“Now it’s our job to make sure that investment the county has made will have a significant impact, and I’m sure we’ll be able to do that,” he said.
The county can expect the value of that funding to at least triple in terms of faculty and staff time and other services provided through the Extension system, Elliott said.
“They’re going to get much more than what the county puts in,” he said. “It certainly opens the door to permanent funding and growing that funding in future years.”
The system of Cooperative Extension dates back to the early 1900s, when Congress directed the USDA and agriculturally focused “land grant” universities to help farmers apply their research on crop and livestock production.
Farmers learn about small machinery at a workshop organized by Oregon State University’s Extension Service last year. Multnomah County has decided to allocate funding to reinstate OSU Extension after discontinuing it more than two decades ago for budgetary reasons.
Despite facing another tough budget situation this year, Multnomah County’s government recently decided to allocate $40,000 for Extension, which will be augmented with contributions from OSU and the USDA, said Kris Elliott, director of the university’s Extension Service.
Multnomah County benefitted from the arrangement for about 87 years until 2003, when budgetary problems convinced the local government to end the partnership. OSU’s “Master Gardener” program, which offers gardening advice, persisted in the area thanks to private donations.
“Counties show up at the level they can or need for their community,” explained Elliott.
With the area’s “dwindling agricultural population,” funding for Extension ended up on the chopping block as the the county’s leadership “didn’t perceive it as a priority, nor was it relatable to them,” said Joe Rossi, who’s family has been farming in the region for over a century and who advocated for returning Extension to the county.
“We’re more detached from our ag economy here in Portland, so it was easy to let that go,” he said.
However, the Portland metropolitan area has since experienced a resurgence in urban agriculture, with the number of farmers increasing though they cultivate less land, Rossi said.
“It’s become fashionable again to help farmers, because it’s a different type of farmer,” he said.
After hitting a low point in 2007, when Multnomah County had only 563 farms, their number has since rebounded to 680 in 2022, even as the land in agriculture declined nearly 2% in that time, to about 28,000 acres, according to USDA’s most recent Census of Agriculture.
The Portland area’s “food and beverage scene” already benefits from its strong connection to local producers, who have helped make it a “culinary destination,” said OSU’s Elliott.
While the formal return of the Extension Service will likely bolster such efforts, its work will primarily focus on basic agricultural education and assistance rather than value-added activities, at least initially, he said.
For example, Extension agents will be teaching small farmers about installing greenhouses and irrigation systems, offering hands-on and virtual training and providing soil and water testing, Elliott said.
Since growers in the region may be trying to grow crops on properties that had industrial or other uses in the past, testing will ensure the soil and water are usable and help attain optimum plant nutrition levels, he said.
It’s a good idea to start with fundamental agronomic principles, as some growers in the region rely on “pseudo-farming” advice from self-proclaimed experts that can be useless or even counterproductive, Rossi said.
“It’s not based in science. It’s not based in provable outcomes,” he said.
Apart from imparting on-the-ground advice, Extension specialists may recognize diseases or other problems that are broadly harming production in the area but aren’t necessarily discernible to individual farmers, Rossi said.
With their experience in dealing with a rural audience, Extension specialists will likely need to adjust their approach for a more urban demographic, but hopefully the renewed relationship will help agriculture in the region flourish, he said.
“These backyard farmers turn into bigger farmers, and they’re part of our ecosystem,” Rossi said.
Mateusz Perkowski is a reporter for the Capital Press.
STORY BY JAYSON JACOBY
Killian Sump is no tailgater but he’ll gladly tag along behind a red-tailed hawk if the opportunity presents itself.
He’ll spiral along beside the bird, thermals buoying both fliers. But Sump must be cautious.
The same columns of warm air that waft him higher, as he dangles below the fabric wing of his paraglider, on some days coalesce into thunderheads, high-voltage tempests that no aviator would pierce on purpose.
Particularly those who, like Sump, have no engine to power them clear of danger.
Sump, 34, an Eastern Oregon University graduate and former teacher at the Burnt River Charter School in Unity, in southern Baker County, on Aug. 11 finished a 300-mile solo journey he had pondered for years.
On the morning of July 23 he soared from the summit of Black
Butte, the volcano that rises above Highway 20 west of Sisters, near Santiam Pass, and steered his paraglider east.
Sump’s destination was the Snake River, Oregon’s eastern border.
He got there.
Eventually.
The trip, perhaps inevitably for a traveler who relies on air currents and on his own legs, could not be fairly described as routine.
There were delays.
Storms that made flying far too dangerous.
Blistered feet.
A pack nearly devoid of food.
But when Sump hiked into Farewell Bend State Park on the hot evening of Aug. 11, a 45-pound pack on his back, including 30 pounds of paraglider, he was thrilled to finish.
“Luckily the sun was going down so it wasn’t too hot,” Sump said. “It feels good. I feel very fulfilled.”
Sump, who grew up in Newberg, was accustomed to adventure before he flew for the first time.
He worked as a backcountry ski guide in Halfway for several winters. He climbs cliffs.
“Killian has always been this incredibly graceful athlete,” said his aunt, Shellie Wyllie of Dayville. “He has a real aptitude for these things.”
Sump’s first paraglider experience was a tandem flight, attached to an experienced flier.
That was in 2014 in Alaska.
“That kind of opened my mind into the possibilities of the sport,” he said.
But for the next five years he concentrated on long-distance wilderness backpacking trips and other ground-bound pursuits.
Then came the pandemic.
In the summer of 2020, during the upheaval as COVID-19 spread, a friend, Forrest Cox, agreed to teach Sump to fly solo.
Five years later, Sump conceived his most ambitious flight.
Launching from Black Butte, he planned to fly east across the remote expanses of Central and Eastern Oregon, a route that’s more than 220 miles as the hawk flies but certain to be longer given the vagaries of air currents.
Distance wasn’t the only challenge that Sump had set for himself — he intended to travel alone and unsupported.
If he couldn’t land on a peak from which he could also launch — and Sump knew that was all but certain — he would hike to a suitable launch spot.
Carrying not only the paraglider but also food, camping gear and water.
“It’s an exercise in patience and persistence,” Sump said.
He didn’t need to test his patience or his persistence for the first two days.
Under nearly ideal conditions, with a steady west wind propelling him, Sump glided for nearly 200 miles, roughly paralleling U.S. Highway 26 over the Ochoco and Aldrich mountains.
He flew at speeds close to 50 mph at times, and climbed as high as 14,600 feet.
“I was overall just completely happily surprised with how well it worked the first two days,” Sump said.
His hikes were short.
But the situation changed as he reached the Monument Rock area south of Unity, a place he was familiar with from his two years teaching at Burnt River. »
For four days in late July, Sump launched from Bull Run Mountain.
With thunderstorms percolating, flying conditions were far from perfect. Sump ended up hiking almost as many miles as he flew.
His feet were blistered.
And he had other commitments.
Sump and his partner, Lauren Brownlee, had closed on a property near Sisters, near to where Sump will be teaching this fall.
And near to where he started the trip, atop Black Butte’s conical summit.
But Sump was loath to surrender, less than 50 miles from the Idaho border.
He returned to the Unity area on Aug. 8.
After a couple abbreviated flights, the weather finally cooperated on Aug. 11.
Sump landed near Durbin Creek, west of Huntington, that evening. Then he hiked the rest of the way to the Snake.
He flew more than 250 miles and hiked about 53 miles.
What’s it like up there?
After launching the paraglider, Sump settles into a seat and tucks himself into a “pod” — what he calls a “nylon cocoon.”
The pod covers his lower body and serves two purposes.
It’s more aerodynamic than if his legs were dangling free, which maximizes his forward speed. And the cocoon keeps him warm.
Despite flying during the hottest part of summer, Sump estimated that temperatures dipped into the upper 30s when he was flying at or near 14,000 feet (he doesn’t carry a thermometer).
Paragliders steer by pulling the two cords — “toggles” — attached to the wing, also known as the sail or canopy. It’s basically an oval-shaped parachute, designed not to slow a descent but to stay aloft.
Summer is the best season for paragliding because hot temperatures produce thermals, he said. But fliers must track the potential for storms.
Fortunately, Sump said, weather forecasts are more accurate, and accessible, than ever.
While at higher speeds — Sump’s peak was about 50 mph, measured by the GPS receiver he carries — the wind can be a bit noisy, he said most of the time it’s “a super quiet, super peaceful experience when you’re up there.”
At times he was able to hold both toggles in one hand and use his other hand to text friends, including photos from his elevated perch.
The views, it scarcely needs to be said, were spectacular.
Sump saw elk herds.
Foxes and coyotes.
He even reported a wildfire, the High Horn blaze southwest of Ironside, during one of his aborted flights on July 28.
And of course there are the hawks and other birds, guides to the thermals.
“We call them the locals,” Sump said.
Although Sump was gratified to finish his intended route, he’s not finished with long-distance paragliding.
“I have ambitions to do even longer ones,” he said.
Eastern Oregon likely will be a destination again, too.
“It’s an incredible thing to see and understand this region, to see how remote it is when you fly over it,” Sump said.
“There’s so much open country. It’s so beautiful. So stark.”
He also gained a new appreciation for the extent of public land in Eastern Oregon. Sump said he strives to land and hike only on public land.
Whatever his flying future, he will always cherish those summer days when he saw a chunk of Oregon in a way perhaps no one has before.
“It’s an amazing way to experience the planet,” Sump said. “There are no words to describe how freeing it is.”
Jayson Jacoby is editor of the Baker City Herald.
STORY BY NELLA MEA PARKS
This summer I started getting some concerned questions from neighbors, friends, and especially customers about my farmstand at the end of our farm’s driveway.
“Have you heard the state of Oregon is going to shut down all farmstands? Are you worried?”
This was news to me, so I started reading articles from the Capital Press and Oregon Capital Chronicle as well as farmer organizations and other farmers.
I found urgent social media whipped up “on behalf” of farmers, but not by many farmers. I found disinformation with questionable sources and motivations, well-meaning people who care about and
advocate for their local farms, and a whole lot of misunderstanding about Oregon’s land use system. Land use rules were at the heart of the farmstand panic.
My parents moved to Eastern Oregon from Tucson in the ‘80s for many reasons, but one reason they have always cited is the lack of sprawl here. My dad was building houses in Arizona’s construction boom, but it just didn’t sit right with him. He had been through La Grande once, and when my mom got a job offer here, they moved sight unseen with a horse and a three-month-old me.
Ore.
In 1973 Republican Gov. Tom McCall embarked on a statewide tour to build support for a land use planning system that would, in his words, avoid “sagebrush subdivisions, coastal condo-mania, and the ravenous rampages of suburbia.”
They were able to buy a small farm, and my dad kept building houses. My parents went rounds with city and county planning departments as they moved into building spec houses, but they always had an appreciation for the land use laws that kept Oregon from looking like sprawling Arizona.
It is critically important for Oregonians to understand this is not by accident.
In 1973 Republican Gov. Tom McCall embarked on a statewide tour to build support for a land use planning system that would, in his words, avoid “sagebrush subdivisions, coastal condo-mania, and the ravenous rampages of suburbia.”
Farmers were especially concerned about the loss of prime farmland to housing and other development. As an old-timer once told me, “the only way to get rich at farming is to buy land by the acre and sell it by the square foot.”
“But,” he said, “they aren’t making new farm ground. Once it is houses, it is lost for good.”
In 1974 our land use system was established, with strong support through the efforts of McCall, farmers, environmentalists, and many others.
The system is unique, and from this farmer’s point of view, smart because it is largely based on soil type and quality for farming. »
Because the rules are vague, county planning departments were applying them differently across the state,
which means some farmstands can sell jam and some can’t.
Soils in Oregon are rated by type 1 through 8, and that classification is part of what determines what types of land use — farming, forest, industrial, residential, etc. — are allowed. Parcel size and distance from town also play into how land is zoned for different uses.
For example, the farm my parents bought in the ‘80s has class A1 soils, it was small (less than 50 acres) and on the edge of town but surrounded by other farms.
The land use system in Oregon considers this property prime farmland, and the rules restrict development or homebuilding on this property. We can’t sell the land for a zillion dollars to build houses, but the trade-off is we were able to afford to buy it and farm it. Because Oregon’s land use system is designed to conserve farmland rather than allow a sprawl free-for-all, we didn’t have to compete with developers for the ground.
Why do we need land use rules?
Oregon has 19 land use goals that guide what kind of activities are allowed where. In my view, the goals create a long-term vision for our landscape that aims to conserve farm, range and forest land; aim for denser housing rather than sprawl; and try to reduce conflicts between different land uses.
Most people wouldn’t want a huge factory going in next to their neighborhood because of the conflicts it could cause.
But the opposite is also true — businesses don’t want an incompatible residential land use next to their operations.
A family I know moved their large farming operation to Eastern Oregon from Arizona because of land use conflicts. Over a decade their farm was completely encircled by new subdivisions, turning their formerly rural operation into a busy, people-filled place.
My friend told me, “the third time our harvesters crunched a minivan on the road while taking a wide turn, I was done.” My friend worried about the safety of the new city people around their huge equipment, and also theft, trespassing, and people treating their farm like a public park — taking dog walks and driving four wheelers in their fields, ruining crops.
Land use law in Oregon is governed by Senate Bill 100, passed in 1974, and the ongoing rulemaking that clarifies the law.
In Oregon we establish Rule Advisory Committees (RACs) which are made up of many different interests on an issue. The RAC discusses different interests, concerns, conflicts, and solutions and makes recommendations to the Department of Land Conservation & Development (DLCD.) DLCD then goes through a lengthy rulemaking process with public involvement and comment periods before any new rules are made.
This summer, Gov. Tina Kotek asked for a rulemaking process to clarify the vague rules around farmstands, so the rulemaking process was initiated.
The RAC looking at farmstand rules this summer was made up of representatives from farm and property rights organizations; state agencies like the departments of Ag and Land Conservation & Development; six county planning offices; and farmers and farmstand operators of different sizes.
The recent farmstand rulemaking discussions looked at the “slippery slope” of vegetable stands to farm Disneylands that many counties have seen.
Farmstands, u-pick, pumpkin patches and the like are allowed on farmland without a permit, but we must ask what activities are compatible with our goal of conserving farmland. Should a farmstand be a venue for weddings or concerts or do they need an agritourism permit? When does a farmstand grow to the point it is really a grocery store where we need to consider traffic, parking, and building safety, impact on neighbors, etc.?
The truth is, the farmstand rules are vague and rulemaking could answer some important questions for farmers like me. For example, I am only allowed to sell raw produce from my farmstand or can I sell processed food I grow and make on my farm?
Because the rules are vague, county planning departments were applying them differently across the state, which means some farmstands can sell jam and some can’t. Some can have events at their farmstands and others must apply for additional permits. Clarity and consistent application of the rules is more fair to us.
Farmers broadly support our land use system, but I can understand why the rules and limits can be frustrating. Narrowly, when you buy a piece of ground, you want to do what you want to do on your land. That feeling has led to 50 years of wear and tear on our land use rules and over 60 special interest exceptions to what’s allowed on Exclusive Farm Use land.
Many people blame Oregon’s land use system for restricting business, growth, and housing development.
I am a farmer, not a developer, so I can’t speak to the legitimate issues they might face. As the daughter of a carpenter and someone who lives in a rural rental desert, I think we must get serious, fast about housing.
But not at any cost. Land use and development must be balanced and planned for the long-term to meet the needs of people for housing, food, jobs, business, open space, and so on.
Reasonable people can disagree about how we should do land use here, but when it comes to modifying or changing Oregon’s system, I want the discussions and disagreements to be in good faith — not full of panic, disinformation, and disingenuous representation of family farmers like me.
I want Oregonians to understand why we have a land use system and how it works. I want folks to understand the land use system is more about grouping compatible land use and conserving working lands. I want folks to know that the landscape Oregonians enjoy is on purpose, not by accident; that without it, we could be anywhere else.
In my view, the recent panic about farmstand rulemaking did not threaten farmstands like mine; the rulemaking threatened loopholes. I believe that if we don’t maintain the integrity of our land use system, it will die by a thousand cuts.
Nella Mae Parks operates a family farm in Cove, Oregon. She is a former member of the Farmer Advisory Committee of 1000 Friends of Oregon, a land use organization.
STORY BY ISABELLA CROWLEY
When a Bigfoot hoax goes sideways, a chaotic struggle ensues in the fictional Blaze County between hoaxers, investigators and supernatural forces. La Grande could be the site of that scenario if filmmakers Zach Green and Devin O’Rourke get their way.
The pair are looking to make their next movie, “Bad Day For Bigfoot,” in La Grande. When they started writing the script, which is set out in the woods, neither had considered Northeastern Oregon as the backdrop, but a culmination of influences made Union County the clear choice.
“We didn’t start with La Grande in mind, but as we got deeper into it, it was like ‘Oh, this could be a good place to actually shoot
this.’ And then when the field trip program came about, it seemed like an obvious fit,” O’Rourke said.
This summer the two Los Angeles-based filmmakers spent a week in Union County as part of the inaugural Eastern Oregon Film Festival’s filmmaker field trip. The writers scouted locations, networked with locals and engaged in creative discovery for their upcoming feature film.
“There were some great locations that we found just by meeting certain people by chance,” O’Rourke said.
“When you’re in an area where everyone’s making a movie, you get so used to the complete lack of enthusiasm,” Green said. “So, for us to come out to La Grande and have people genuinely excited at just the idea of making a movie, it was like a homecoming for me.”
Filmmakers Devin O’Rourke, left, and Zach Green, are looking to film their next movie “Bad Day For Bigfoot” in Union County.
DAY FOR BIGFOOT/CONTRIBUTED PHOTO
The field trip, however, was not their first time in La Grande. Green and O’Rourke visited in 2023 when their debut feature film “Foil” played at the Eastern Oregon Film Festival.
“That was our best, most packed, most raucous screening of our whole festival run,” Green said. “It was a really invigorating screening for us.”
“We just really connected with the spirit of filmmaking of the people we met at the festival,” O’Rourke said. “It felt like a spirit of collaboration and creativity and excitement
One of the writers of “Bad Day For Bigfoot,” Zach Green gets up close and personal with the Sasquatch itself — or rather a statue of the cryptid.
and support. That sometimes can be a rare thing to encounter in LA.”
Green and O’Rourke, who are both originally from Austin, Texas, see parallels in the filmmaking approach and community in Eastern Oregon and their hometown.
“Breakup Season,” the romantic drama filmed entirely in La Grande in 2023, along with the movie’s writer and director H. Nelson Tracey and actor and comedian Jacob Wysocki, were other influences on the Bigfoot-inspired filmmakers.
“I grew up doing comedy and being friends with Jake Wysocki and he had a short out there at the time,” Green said. “That all kind of helped plant the seed simultaneously.”
What comes next?
The budget for “Bad Day For Bigfoot” comes in around $1.3 million, EOFF Director Christopher Jennings said, and the filmmakers need at least $500,000 in the bank before committing to production. They will be working with Oregon Film and the organization’s tax credit rebate, as well as applying for grants and searching for investors.
Jennings added there also is a goal of reaching $50,000 in local fundraising support. Production ideally would begin in June 2026 for a finished film in January 2027.
Attendees of the 2025 EOFF, however, get an early peek at the story of “Bad Day For Bigfoot.” Green and O’Rourke will be back Oct. 15 for a staged reading of the script.
They are looking to cast local talent in the one-night reading. Anyone interested in taking part should email a headshot, resume and three to five minute reel link to director@eofilmfest.com.
Isabella Crowley is a reporter for The Observer in La Grande.
Oregon farmer films “James Prescott and the Battle of Marysville.”
STORY BY MATEUSZ PERKOWSKI
This summer, Oregon farmer Joe Rossi’s property in North Portland has doubled as the set of his selfwritten short film about a Civil War-era rivalry.
Rossi, who began dabbling in movie-making two decades ago, wrote the script about 6 months ago for the roughly 30-minute film, “James Prescott and the Battle of Marysville.”
“I’ve had it 20 years in my head, so it kind of wrote itself when I put it on paper,” he said.
The film centers on two fictional Union military figures, James Prescott and Parker Rose, who turn into adversaries in the waning days of the Civil War.
“When adversity strikes, it’s a clash of characters,” Rossi said. “They turn on each other.”
The theme explores the conflict between the aggressive Prescott, who is seeking glory before the war ends, and the more defensivelyoriented Rose, who’d prefer to minimize bloodshed, Rossi said.
“It’s not a war movie. It’s a character-driven drama,” Rossi said.
Interior and exterior scenes have so far been shot at Rossi’s farm on the outskirts of Portland, with additional battle scenes to be filmed in September at a friend’s farm near Sandy, Ore.
The movie’s cast and crew are all volunteers — “friends and friends of friends” — as well as high school and college video production students, and re-enactors from an artillery division of the Northwest Civil War Council nonprofit, he said.
Though the plot and characters are fictional, Rossi said he was inspired by real events from the Civil War.
“It’s based on things that really happened and how people were thrown together,” he said.
Rossi said relying on volunteers kept the costs down, but he paid for their food and some of the wardrobe.
Though the end product will likely be about a half-hour long, the filming will be spread over several days, as about five minutes of the finished movie requires about an hour of shooting, he said.
The film centers on two fictional Union military figures, James Prescott and Parker Rose, who turn into adversaries in the waning days of the Civil War.
When he’s not working as a filmmaker, Rossi is a fifth-generation Oregon farmer who normally runs the operation with his oldest daughter, Gabrielle, who is currently working at the USDA’s Office of the Deputy Secretary.
They continue to grow crops and run an event venue on the same property that his family began working more than a century ago, which has since become surrounded by urban development.
Rossi plans to host a “red carpet” film premiere at his farm, tentatively scheduled for Nov. 16, but he’ll also submit the movie to film festival competitions and eventually post it on Youtube.
In addition to being memorable for the participants, Rossi said his project will help the student film-makers gain some experience.
Oregon farmer Joe Rossi and his younger daughter, Genevieve, dressed up in Civil War-era garb for his short film in which he also plays the role of a fictional military figure, Parker Rose.
Troy Rulmyr, the actor playing the title role of Col. James Prescott, rides a horse in a scene from, “James Prescott and the Battle of Marysville.” The short film, written by Oregon farmer Joe Rossi, is filming this summer at Rossi’s farm on the outskirts of Portland, Ore.
When Eastern Oregon University student Addison Bonzani stepped into the fast-paced heart of downtown Portland for the first time, it wasn’t just a class trip—it was a turning point. As a Pendleton native, Addison had never experienced city life up close. Now, thanks to EOU’s Urban-Rural Ambassador Program, she helps bridge the divide between Oregon’s communities —one conversation at a time.
The Urban-Rural Ambassador Program, a unique partnership between Eastern Oregon University and Portland State University, brings together students from across the state for hands-on immersive experiences and direct engagement with policymakers, nonprofits, and community leaders. From infrastructure and housing to food systems and environmental sustainability, students explore how public issues connect communities—no matter their zip code.
Students inspired by the Urban-Rural Ambassador Program experience often continue their journey through EOU’s Master of Public Administration (MPA) program. Designed for working professionals, the MPA offers a rural-informed, globally relevant curriculum, emphasizing strategic leadership, collaboration, and real-world problem-solving.
EOU PREPARES THE NEXT GENERATION OF CHANGEMAKERS
Leaders across sectors understand diverse perspectives and build a stronger, more connected Oregon.
Whether you're rooted in rural or tackling urban issues, EOU's MPA programs give you the tools—and inspiration—to lead.
STORY BY ISABELLA CROWLEY
Spanning 11,438 acres, the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation and Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife will co-manage the Qapqapa Wildlife Area in Union County. — ROCKY MOUNTAIN ELK FOUNDATION/CONTRIBUTED
Astretch of private land has long separated the Wallowa-Whitman National Forest on the east and west side of the Blue Mountains. That’s about to change.
The Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife recently received $22 million in federal funding to acquire more than 11,400 acres near Starkey, Grande Ronde Watershed Wildlife Habitat Biologist Jon Paustian said, which will be enrolled into the department’s wildlife area program. Through the Qapqapa Wildlife Area State-Tribal Partnership Project, ODFW and the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation will work together to manage the property.
“The name means ‘place of the big cottonwoods’ and refers to the tribes’ place-name for the property,” CTUIR’s Anton Chiono said. “In a first ever for the State of Oregon, the tribes and ODFW will co-manage the new wildlife area for the benefit of all. This is a terrific example of what Oregonians can accomplish by working together.”
Chiono, who works as the Habitat Conservation Project leader with the CTUIR Department of Natural Resources Habitat Conservation, is excited about the opportunity. The plan for co-management includes sharing staff resources, public and tribal use of the land, joint fisheries restoration projects and a focus on First Foods.
“This will be the first state wildlife area that’s co-managed by a tribe. I think it’s really exciting for a state to think about first foods in their management and really make that a priority,” he said. “It’s really pathbreaking in that respect, and we’re really pleased with that partnership.”
First Foods are culturally important foods that have sustained the tribes, Chiono said, so a key objective will be encouraging the presence of those foods on the property, such as salmon, elk and huckleberries.
“A lot of what we anticipate doing is just really carrying on the good legacy and stewardship the landowners have already undertaken there,” Chiono said.
The Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife recently received $22 million in federal funding to acquire more than 11,400 acres near Starkey, Grande Ronde Watershed Wildlife Habitat.
The Harry Merlo Foundation owned the property, Chiono said, and the organization signed a purchase sale agreement.
“He passed away a couple years ago, but his family and now his family’s foundation has had the property for around 30 years,” Chiono said. “We were first made aware that the foundation had interest in selling last fall.”
There was a scramble to figure out a funding source that would allow the purchase of such a large property, Chiono said, and the tribes ultimately worked with ODFW to apply for the U.S. Forest Service’s Forest Legacy Program.
Now the two groups are working to finalize the property’s appraisal, Chiono said, with a goal of closing on the property by 2026.