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0 of 3 Premium Clicks used this month SUBSCRIBE Print + Online Subscriber Activation | Register x Forgot Password | Need an Account? e-edition | subscribe | newsletter | deals Classifieds Jobs Autos Real Estate FEATURED » NEWS NOW Bill could gut GMO ordinance, group says ... Our View: We are not ready for The Really Big One ... Serious crime down in Medford ... Bill could gut GMO ordinance, group says ... Our View: We are not ready for The Really Big One ... Serious crime down in Medford ... SOUTHERN OREGON JOURNAL Southern Oregon Journal: Discovery of the Bigfoot brownie Comment By Peggy Dover for the Mail Tribune MailTribune.com By Peggy Dover for the Mail Tribune Posted Feb. 1, 2015 at 12:01 AM By Peggy Dover for the Mail Tribune Posted Feb. 1, 2015 at 12:01 AM » Social News I thought it might be a good idea on occasion to follow the suggestions I dish out to see if they’re any good or a bunch of hooey. I don’t want a reputation as a hooey-slinger. So earlier this week, during the season of the shroud, that is, the blanket of doom, mantle of morbidity, fog of dearth, et al, as a follow-up to a Prospect article I wrote a couple weeks back, my artist friend, Lane, and I escaped the clutch of atmospheric gloom to moderately higher climes, warmer temperatures, and Beckie’s lunch. This was to be followed with short yet rewarding hikes through the green wood to take in three waterfalls and The Avenue of Giant Boulders. Was the trek a fun winter diversion or a frostbitten bust? We bee-lined it to Beckie’s in Union Creek for lunch. I enjoyed their Abbott Creek Burger while Lane scarfed a generous club sandwich. Lane is a slim guy who hikes me under the table, but it was what he ordered after polishing off the main dish that got me thinking along Bigfoot lines. They called it a brownie sundae, but I swear, and you know I never exaggerate, the thing would have filled the plaster casting they poured to accommodate Mr. B. Foot’s print. It wasn’t just big. It had a glistening, fudgy interior topped with a scoop of ice cream, slathered with whipped cream, and crowned with two maraschino cherries. The waitress, who obviously worked out, hoisted the chocolate slab onto our table and, though she brought two spoons, I took one look and cried uncle. That’s when the inspiration hit me — it was the Bigfoot Brownie. The thought primed me for our woodsy escapade to follow. After Lane ate most of the BB while saying he shouldn’t, we drove back down to the Prospect Hotel to pick up a map and hear another interesting history lesson about the area from Fred and Karen Wickman. Even though it was about 3 p.m. by then, we had plenty of time to walk from there to the wooded path that leads along Mill Creek to Pearsony Falls. We were the lone hikers, and soon I began wondering about bear and cougar. However, I admit to a certain curious fascination with one Bigfoot, though after all the notoriety he’s reaped, I think he deserves a better name. I would spearhead an effort to “name the Bigfoot,” but I doubt the creature would answer to a name. I wondered if that had been the hold-up all this time. Would I stick around for a photo-op if someone called me Bigfoot or Hairy Devil? Even if it were appropriate? Not likely. A few years back, one dark and foggy night, my daughter, Emily, and I convinced one another we saw one crossing Highway 62 as we drove south. It was headed in the direction of Carl’s Jr. But it probably read our lips through the windshield as we chorused, “Whoa, did you see that? It looked like Bigfoot.” Then, disgusted, it beat big feet into the mist. I’d forgotten how early the woods became dark during winter. Lane and I made it to dramatic Pearsony Falls, which is close to the path and well worth the drive. The way was clear and easy but for a few fallen trees. We climbed over and under three or four that blocked our progress. We arrived at a fabulous viewpoint of the Giant Boulders from above, but watch the kids and dogs if you go. It’s a shear drop from there. By the time we returned to the hotel it was too late to do Mill and Barr Creek Falls. Shoot. Guess I’ll have to go back to Beckie’s. We ended our pleasant afternoon on a willow settee on the hotel porch, sipping a glass of red from Crater Lake Cellars, waiting for the big guy with our brownie remains as a peace offering. Peggy Dover is a freelance writer who works from a 1900 farmhouse in Eagle Point. Reach her at [email protected].       By Peggy Dover for the Mail Tribune MailTribune.com By Peggy Dover for the Mail Tribune Posted Feb. 1, 2015 at 12:01 AM » Comment or view comments Reader Reaction » STAY INFORMED Email NewsLetter Sign Up Today Sign up for our newsletter and have the top headlines from your community delivered right to your inbox. 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