Known as Wy'east by the Multnomah tribe, this stratovolcano made such an impression on the local tribes, that they created legends about it. One such legend was created by the Wasco Tribe and is written in the book Indian Legends of the Pacific Northwest. It called the Chief's Face on Mount Hood and goes like this:
Years and years ago, the mountain peak south of Big River was so high that when the sun shone on its south side a shadow stretched north for a day's journey. Inside the mountain, evil spirits had their lodges. Sometimes the evil spirits became so angry that they threw out fire and smoke and streams of hot rocks. Rivers of liquid rock ran towards the sea,killing all growing things and forcing the Indians to move far away. In those days the Indians also were taller than they are now. They were as tall as the pine and fir trees that covered the hills, and their chief was such a giant that his warriors could walk under his outstretched arms. He was the bravest and the strongest of his tribe.
One night a voice spoke to the chief in a dream. "If you do not conquer the evil spirits that live in the mountain, they will someday throw out a river of fire. The river will flood the land, all the people will be drowned, and your country will be ruined." The chief knew that he must protect his people. He would fight the demons alone. So he took the long journey to the top of the mountain. There he found a crater, a big hole, which was the home of the evil spirits. Scattered around it were some large stones. The chief picked them up and threw them into the crater.
Muttering with anger, the mountain spirits heated the rocks red hot and hurled them back again. The rocks rose towards the sky and fell a long distance away. The chief hurled more stones into the crater. The demons spewed up hot rocks and smoke and fire. For many days the battle continued. Then the chief, resting for a moment, looked down upon the land he had left--the land that had once been green and beautiful. The rivers were choked, the forest and the grass had disappeared, the animals and the people had fled. The heart of the chief broke with sorrow. He had failed to protect his people, and his land was a blackened ruin. He sank upon the ground and was soon buried by the streams of hot rocks.
But some of his people fled to the tops of near-by mountains and so were not covered by the rocks. When the earth cooled and the grass grew again, they returned to their country. In time there was plenty of food once more. But the children, starved and weak for so long, never became as tall and strong as their parents and grandparents had been. The people will remain stunted and weak until a great chief comes who conquer the demons of fire in the mountain. When he comes, the people will be restored to their former size and all the earth will be happy. Sometimes the old chief's face can be seen on the north side of Mount Hood, about halfway down the mountain. It is a huge shadow, the profile of an Indian head with its scalp lock.
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