It’s not the tallest, like Mount Everest. The deepest, like Hells Canyon. Or the biggest, like the Pacific Ocean.

Hat Rock is a small speck on earth, which is a small speck in the universe.

Yet the geographical oddity a 40-minute drive northwest of Pendleton or 15 minutes northeast of Hermiston boasts an understated charm. In late winter, with other, higher elevation hikes locked in snow, Hat Rock offers a chance to stretch the legs and experience the Oregon desert.

Meriwether Lewis, William Clark and the Corps of Discovery — en route to the Pacific — passed the rock in October 1805.

Then the Columbia River was free-flowing. The explorers noted the basalt protrusion resembled a silk hat, which was the rage with early 19th century fashionistas.

Today the river behind McNary Dam forms Lake Wallula, and adjacent Hat Rock is the centerpiece of a state park. It’s a place not only to hike. You can also mountain bike, ride horseback, fish, kayak, picnic — or go bankrupt feeding coots who make the park pond their crazy-making home.

Leaving the car, I hike a short trail to Hat Rock’s base, serenaded by mourning doves and meadowlarks. A chain-link fence surrounds the rock to prevent climbing.

After a moment’s contemplation of the basalt plug, one that fails to cause eye blowouts of excessive childlike wonderment, I trundle on to the pond. Jagged V’s of Canada geese fly overhead. They’re low enough to hear wing beats and plaintive stragglers honking, “Are we there yet?”

Scattered anglers fish and wish.

On the southwest shore, two women and two children toss bread crumbs to a clamoring contingent of ravenous coots.

On the river side of a small dam, two women kayak in the bay.

I climb a hill to join the Lewis and Clark Commemorative Trail. Train whistles retired, the rail trail runs 7.3 miles along the Columbia from Warehouse Bay to McNary Beach. Hiking along, I imagine the fiery origins of the landscape. The eruptions. The prehistoric rhinoceros and camel that lived here before Walmart.

I also think of the Lake Missoula Flood. The last of the ice dams collapsed 15,000 years ago. Waters equivalent to the combined capacity of lakes Erie and Ontario rushed through here in repeated floods, shaping the landscape.

The trail cuts through basalt cliffs. Hundreds of tumbleweed block the passage. I forge through.

On the river, a grain barge heads toward the Pacific.

Soon, I find a rock on which to sit. From here, I contemplate views upriver to Wallula Gap and downriver to a hazy Mount Hood.

Hat Rock is not for everyone. In this age of bigger, better, wilder and more heart stopping, the park will not blow your L.L. Bean socks off. For those who appreciate subtle desert beauty, though, the park is a fine way to pass a day.

As always, leave only footprints and take only pictures. Whether in town or on the trail, try to leave your surroundings better than you found them.

Jeff Petersen is an outdoors enthusiast who enjoys hiking, bicycling, jogging and other low-budget entertainment. He retired after a 40-plus year career, mainly in newspapers, and lives in Milton-Freewater. Reach him at jeffp557@gmail.com.