Artifacts of a great summer.

Byline: THE OUTSIDER By John Rezell The Register-Guard

My daughter Taylor paused for a moment and looked up at the towering cement pillars holding Highway 138 safely above the Little River, just a couple of hundred feet before the Little collides with the North Umpqua River in Glide.

She didn't realize it at the time, but in the week prior to our visit beneath the trusses, we rumbled over them on the top side four times, completely unaware of the riches hidden below.

With summer winding down, we spent a week camping up at Diamond Lake - our unofficial favorite spot in Oregon. We landed there by chance last year during our grand adventure and celebrated Sierra's birthday. It laid the foundation for our decision to select Oregon as our next home.

I remember walking along the lake shore with Taylor last summer. She looked out at the osprey floating in front of snow-capped Mount Bailey and said, "You know, I think we're going to like Oregon a lot and end up moving here."

With this year's pilgrimage to Diamond Lake behind us - not even the draw-down of water to deal with the pesky tui chub could quell our love of the place - we had one final end-of-summer column invitation.

Sue Petersen invited us to "the prettiest place in Oregon." As we have come to realize, 'round here it's not necessarily what you know, but who you know.

Leading our excursion beneath the bridge, walking stick in hand, Sue kept a close eye to the ground, not the sky.

Sue grew up in Glide. She spent many a summer's day soaking in the cool waters of the rivers, or simply sitting on the sandstone ledges looking at the wonderment.

Those sandstone ledges sit atop hard rock that is 38 to 55 million years old. Rock that has shells and assorted other seaside fossils embedded in it, lined up neatly on display like a showcase in any jewelry story.

Sue had brought us down from her home in Crow, through the back roads of Lorane, Curtin and Wilbur, with a promise of fossils.

I worried about the prospect of coming up empty, knowing how childhood memories can sometimes get embellished over the years. And then I saw the streak of gold.

It took Sue all of a minute or so to glance down at the sea of rocks and point to one. Check that out, she said, it might have something.

My other daughter, Sierra, picked it up. Score. The rippled edges of a shell protruded from the backside. To say the girls and I were impressed would be an understatement.

Suddenly we became novice archeologists - kids in a candy store - searching and finding gems that have been waiting for us for the ages. The girls were brushing the shells for a better look and feel.

More than an hour slipped past in a blink of an eye.

Then it was time for lunch.

We rolled through the backside of town, along the North Umpqua, with Sue's eyes glued to Mount Scott as she downloaded her childhood memories. We went to the Illahee Inn for killer grub, and Sue's eyes were constantly drawn to Mount Scott.

The look on her face said it all. An enchanted, dream-like look of memories that endure - like fossils preserved in stone.

Atop Mount Scott back in her youth, she said, the forest had been cut back just right. Mount Scott looked like a giant sleeping in a tailored suit. The years of growth have turned the neat cut suit into a puffy scarf. Yet, through her eyes, the giant's impeccable style endures.

As we drove back to Crow, then to our home in Eugene, I could only wonder what kind of memories this summer will hold for Sierra and Taylor. If they are anything like Sue's, then I know we have found our home.

John Rezell, aka Raz, experiences the great Oregon outdoors through the eyes of our readers. Invite him on your next adventure at [e-mail].