Cottonwood Canyon: secrets to a happy long-term relationship

A little adventure illustrates forty years of learning to love

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The next morning in Cottonwood Canyon State Park in Oregon dawned clear and shiny. The storm and rain were gone, leaving startling azure skies and a freshly rinsed landscape filled with vibrant color. 

Mike was already gone when I got up. I took Koa for a hike up to an overlook on a ridge above the camping area, soaking in the sight of golden hills, rugged basalt cliffs, and best of all—the rich smell of sage after a storm. Potent and hypnotizing, the scent reminded me of pine with something tangy and earthier behind it, maybe a touch of lavender. Every time I brushed against one of the many sage bushes, wonderful aroma erupted and surrounded me in a drugging cloud.

Returning to camp, I put Koa back in the trailer, noticing that Mike had left my reflective vest draped over the handlebars of my bike. The bike was parked and cocked at an inviting angle, pointed toward the path along the river.

The day before I had explored that extensive bike trail beside the John Day River, and had reached a sign that said ACTIVE HUNTING ZONE BEYOND THIS POINT. Wearing hiking clothes, a kind of camouflage, I hadn’t felt safe biking into a hunting area and had turned back. I’d mentioned that to Mike when he told me he planned to go fishing further into that wilderness.

Now, the way he’d set my bike up and draped my reflective vest over it was as clear as an engraved invitation: “Join me.”

My heart leaped with excitement as I hopped on my bike and headed out along the rugged track. Once a cattle road into the ranch, the bumpy dirt pathway hugged the steep canyon wall, looping beneath ominously undercut, loosely piled basalt cliffs. 

I held my breath passing under the looming bluffs as I navigated rough piles of fallen shale beneath the overhangs. Finally out from under the dangerous cliffs, I speeded up and whizzed past desert plants, savoring the way they filled the air with tactile smells. I flushed a covey of quail, fleeing up before me with a rattle of crackling-stick wings.

Meadowlarks filled the air with ornate melodies, and flashy magpies hopped from bush to shrub, squawking in a language so close to human it seemed as if I cocked my ear just so, I could understand it.

I found Mike several miles down the track; he had scrambled down a long rough cliff to stand on the banks of a deep section of the river, trees and brush all around his line as he cast out into the glassy water.

Mike fishing the John Day River in Cottonwood Canyon

Gazing down at him there, I remembered how I had scrambled down a similar precipitous bank to join him fishing almost forty years ago. I’d known it was a test: a test of my commitment, of my courage, and of my compatibility. Of course, I scrambled down the scree without hesitation.

Sitting there with our feet in the water and our fishing poles aligned, he asked me to marry him; I said yes. 

We were chaste Christians back then; we hadn’t so much as kissed. 

Newly engaged, I could not have imagined the many moves, careers, emotional journeys and literal roads we would take in the next thirty-eight years. Now, there’s often a sense of full circle in the moments we pause to reflect on our life together.

“Heloooo,” I called down playfully. “I found you at last.”

“You made it!” Mike turned to grin at me. “I knew you would.”

Secure in his love and as connected as if with an invisible ribbon, I could sit on the edge of the road, dangle my legs down the cliff, and enjoy watching him fish without needing to prove a thing.

I eventually told Mike I was going on alone, and got on my bike and rode for several more miles into the canyon. That was long enough to spot a kangaroo rat hopping across the road, an osprey hunting over the smooth water, and to startle a second covey of quail, scaring me as much as they.

I rode back and met Mike as he came up the cliff from fishing. “Perfect timing,” I said. “Funny how that happens.”

“Always,” he said. “You take the lead.”

I rode back to camp along the basalt cliffs, pedaling harder than I had been, aware of Mike behind me; he goes a little faster than I do whether walking or biking. It’s a mark of the respect and patience we’ve developed that he often lets me lead the way now, so that we can be more in sync.

Twenty years ago, halfway through our marriage, this vignette would not have happened. We were often irritated and impatient with each other, always in a hurry as we both worked to raise our kids and make ends meet. We often missed each other’s cues and needs. We were the proverbial “two ships passing in the night,” and many times, we seemed headed for the rocks.

This reminded me of the "Five Love Languages," a concept that had been instrumental in strengthening our bond. Learning each other's love languages – those acts that make us feel truly loved and appreciated – was like finding the key to a secret garden in our relationship. 

The Five Love Languages, as developed by Dr. Gary Chapman, are:

Words of Affirmation: Expressing love through verbal compliments, praise, and words of appreciation.

Acts of Service: Showing love by doing things for your partner that you know they would appreciate.

Giving and Receiving Gifts: Feeling loved through thoughtful presents and tokens of affection.

Quality Time: Expressing love by giving your partner your undivided attention.

Physical Touch: Feeling loved through physical affection like hugs, kisses, and holding hands.

Each person typically has one or two primary love languages that make them feel most loved and appreciated, and that they tend to use to express their feelings, too. Understanding and using your partner's preferred love language will improve emotional connections. 

No, “enough” love was never our problem—how we were expressing it was. 

I was a “words of affirmation” person, always craving a compliment or encouragement, and giving those to express my support and caring. Mike was an “acts of service” person, showing his affection through projects, building things, fixing and helping. 

He’d do things for me, but I’d overlook or not notice them, asking instead, “tell me something good.” He felt taken for granted, and missed the need behind my question. Meanwhile I’d say, “I love you, you’re the best,” and he’d say, “why don’t you DO something about that?” And I’d feel rejected and frustrated. 

We were both emotionally empty by the time we got the Five Love Languages book in couples counseling. After that, we saw with new eyes all the ways we were expressing love for each other.

Things got a lot better.

We learned to accept each other's quirks and flaws, recognizing that those differences are part of what makes each of us unique and lovable. We discovered the importance of nurturing our own passions and interests, both individually and together. Sometimes that meant separate vacations, returning from our adventures with fresh perspectives and stories to share. Other times, it was about finding new hobbies or activities to experience together (like this long road trip.)

Here are some insights gained from our nearly forty years of marriage:

Choose wisely before you commit: Focus on finding shared values and goals in a life partner.

Make passion a priority: Seek help if needed; sex is a vital human need.

Accept each other: Embrace who your partner is, knowing they’ll likely become more so over time.

Work on yourself: Focus on self-improvement rather than critiquing your partner.

Develop shared interests: Keep things interesting by learning and growing together.

Take mutual time away: Absence can also make the heart grow fonder; never stop growing personally.

And whether you’re in a relationship or not, Learn and practice the Five Love Languages: It transformed our relationship, and it can help ANY relationship!

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