If it feels like Oregon is charging you for the very air you breathe, that’s because they probably just haven’t figured out how to meter it yet. After the freshly announced $10 parking fee at Vista House, Oregon State Parks has unveiled its boldest plan yet: slapping a massive black curtain in front of Multnomah Falls and charging visitors pay-per-view prices to see water fall from the sky.
Starting in 2026, anyone hoping to admire Oregon’s most famous waterfall will be greeted not by the misty spray of the Gorge, but by a towering velvet drape and a kiosk demanding payment. Locals will pay $10. Out-of-staters will pay $12. And if you want the privilege of snapping a photo, well, that’ll run you $29.99 each. Nature may be free, but the receipt is itemized.
Officials say the curtain rollout is necessary to address Oregon’s looming budget crisis, which they describe as “the financial equivalent of a landslide.” Lottery revenues are down, maintenance costs are up, and apparently selling scratch-offs just isn’t cutting it anymore. “We’ve already taxed gas, groceries, and parking lots,” one ranger admitted. “Putting a paywall on a waterfall was the next logical step.”
Of course, the state has thought ahead. There will be “subscription packages” for frequent gawkers. A $50 annual “Falls Pass” grants three free peeks a year, while the new “Nature+ Premium” bundle includes unlimited curtain lifts and a complimentary glare from a park ranger.
Not everyone is thrilled. Some hikers worry about rangers lurking in the brush with card readers, ready to charge anyone who dares photograph the falls without swiping. Others wonder how long before Oregon starts charging $5 per squirrel sighting, or $10 for a whiff of fresh Gorge air.
Multnomah Falls itself declined to comment, but sources close to the water say it feels “objectified and overexposed.” Meanwhile, taxpayers are left to wonder just how many curtains, kiosks, and fees can possibly fit between them and the last shred of public space.
Because whether it’s your gas tank, your grocery bill, or now your waterfall selfies, one thing feels certain: the state is never done collecting.
