The story has been told many times.
In the fall of 1874, Elijah Davidson was out hunting a bear with his dog, Bruno, when suddenly the bear and dog disappeared into a dark hole in the ground. Wary and uncertain, Davidson stood near the murky opening for long moments until he heard a mournful howl inside. It was Bruno. Conquering his fear, Davidson went through the opening, lighting matches as he went through a series of linked caverns until the last match flickered out, and he stood in total darkness. Unnerved, he waited silently until he heard a gurgle of water nearby. Slowly groping his way toward the sound, he found a small stream and followed it to an opening, emerging to safety at last with Bruno not far behind.
Years later, a group of influential men, including Joaquin Miller, the self-promoting “poet of the Sierras,” visited the caves. Miller spoke in glowing terms of what he saw, and federal officials moved to preserve the system of caverns. In 1909, the caves and land immediately around them were made a national monument by order of President William Howard Taft.
It was a farseeing decision for its time, but few people, including the lyrically inclined Miller, seemed to emphasize the area's lush forests, panoramic high country or wildlife in their push for the caves' protection. It has been up to later outdoor enthusiasts to do that, the latest effort coming in a package of bills, introduced in Congress by U.S. Sen. Ron Wyden and Rep. Peter DeFazio, to add 4,070 acres to the 480-acre monument.
Only 4.5 miles above the caves, on Mount Elijah, the peak named after the caverns' discoverer, some of that hoped-for addition can be seen. It is a land of lush vegetation and striking vistas — an atmospheric counterpart to the monument's subterranean world.
One of the best ways to see it is from the trail starting at the monument visitor center, which wends through a thick mixed forest of Douglas firs, ponderosa pines, incense cedar, Pacific dogwoods and sugar pines to end on the 6,390-foot summit where manzanita clings to breaks in the stone.
On the way, you'll see a dazzling wildflower show, beginning with the tiny white blooms of vanilla leaf and hooked purple larkspurs and ending in high-country Indian paintbrush, phlox and stonecrop.
As you stand on the summit, if the day is clear enough, the cloud-topped ridges of the Red Buttes will be visible to the east, snow-capped Preston Peak to the south.
Far below in the opposite direction, you'll see the Illinois Valley, and beyond it the shadowy spines of the Kalmiopsis Wilderness. There's no better place in my mind to honor the monument's 100th anniversary that took place July 12 than from that high perch.
The Mount Elijah Trail is about 9.5 miles round trip, but you spend most of that time in forest, a boon in July and August heat. By the time you hit the last mile of rock outcroppings you're into a cooler climate zone and ready for panoramas.
This route also connects easily with the Big Tree Trail, where you can view and touch a 41-foot circumference Douglas fir tree, the largest in Oregon. A slight detour on the way down will take you to the tree, where there is a large platform for resting.
Many hikers from the Medford-Ashland area consider the monument too far to travel for day hiking. It's 30 minutes to Grants Pass, and then another 50 miles to the caves, taking Highway 199 to Cave Junction, then turning off onto Highway 46. But the roads are all paved, and with an early start, it's more than doable.
If you're willing to commit more time to the visit, there are campgrounds near the monument, and a historic chateau in the monument itself with charming rustic rooms. Call 541-592-3400, toll free at 877-245-9022 or go to www.oregoncaveschateau.com.
During his day of discovery, Elijah Davidson was lost in the underside of the mountain that bears his name, a place of darkness whose luminous, hidden beauty he could barely glimpse with the small light of his matches. It took other visitors to make sure it was preserved.
Fortunately for us, their efforts also saved the area's breathtaking above-ground world of lush forest and glistening heights.
When I was there a few weeks ago, dark and light were in oscillation, cloud banks giving way to sun, only to gather again and release a driving rain as I descended.
For me that balance of opposites is the monument's most endearing feature. Even today, protected as the land around the caves is, there's something unpredictable and wild in it, a reminder that in nature long-held secrets and sudden illumination are only a step removed from each other.
Steve Dieffenbacher is a Mail Tribune page designer/copy editor. You can reach him at 776-4498 or sdieffenbacher@mailtribune.com.