Ore-Gone

I hardly know where to begin.  We arrived in Washington today, camping tonight at an Army Corps of Engineers park, Charbonneau on the Snake River.  The lake formed behind the dam is Lake Sacajawea.  We have a fine spot, on a point overlooking the river. We can see an enormous structure across the lake that I assume is a lock.  This is an overnight, transition stop.  We need time to pause and reflect on the majesty of central Oregon before summoning our energy and devoting it to Washington.

Our 4 days on the Oregon coast were very nice.   We have been told countless times how lucky we were to have sun and warmth.  The coast was beautiful.  What was lacking was any engagement with the people in the campground.  Neither of the campgrounds was very sociable.  The Oregon coast is packed with state parks, and they are heavily used.  It felt a bit like an assembly line in comparison to what lay ahead.  We did have some fresh Dungeness crab that was very good.   We saw sea lions and harbor seals on Simpson Reef.  We walked up to old WW II bunkers, now totally covered with graffiti. It was all very nice, but in the end, the experience of looking at the rocky coast could only carry you so far.  I think a better way to take this in would be an isolated spot along the coast, without the hub-bub of the State Park infrastructure.

It was a difficult drive over to Crater Lake. Traveling from the coast, over the Cascades to central Oregon is a chore.  The drive was beautiful at times, and at times a reminder of the poorest parts of the rural south, complete with the confederate flags.

Crater Lake campground had been opened for only 3 days when we arrived.  2 of the park's 6 camping loops had been plowed to allow for camping.  Even then, only the pad was cleared and we had 8 foot snow banks beside us.  It was stunning. This was a very friendly camp, given the everyone was amazed to be camping in such a setting.  We stayed beside two retired guys from Oklahoma City who had been friends since age 4.  Neither had graduated from high school, and the pair had been voted least likely to succeed.  It gave them great joy to know that while they were retired and having a snowball fight with a group of girls in the campground, the folks that have found them so unlikely to succeed were stuck in their desks at work.

Frances and I had a marvelous ride up to the rim road of the lake.  While the majority of the road was still under 10-12 feet of snow, about 8 miles was cleared and opened to cyclists and hikers.  We rode up to the rim and then out as far as we could.  The snow showed the blue reflection that you see in glaciers.  Even my cell phone camera was able to catch the coloration.  It was very visually stimulating to ride between walls of snow under brilliant blue skies and then pause to look down on the incomparably blue water of the lake.  This was a great stop.

We then make our way over toward Bend.  We stopped at a private Museum of the High Desert.  This was nice.  We visited the Newberry Volcano National Monument, and learned that this was the largest volcano in North America, larger than Rhode Island.  We walked along the "Molten Lava" trail, but I was disappointed to discover that there was NO MOLTEN Lava.  #falseadvertising!

We didn't do much in Bend.  We had lunch.  There were lots of trendy shops, but nothing really for us.  It was a windy day, so we saw Wonder Woman.  We loved it.  We were staying at a marginal State Park, La Pine, in La Pine, OR.  It's most notable feature was a 500 year old Ponderosa Pine that is the largest ever recorded for that species.  We mainly found mosquitoes and got buried in pollen.  After 2 nights, we drove to meet friend and stay in a house.

Frances met Jack Beck in a Bike Ride Across Tennessee, four years ago.  Three years ago he rode BRAG and I met him.  Long story short, we rode together for a week 3 years ago, became friends on Facebook, and thus naturally it make sense for us to crash in on his beautiful home in Powell Butte, wash a bunch of really smelly clothes, and have him cook us dinner and then put us up for the night.  It was a great visit.  We met his wife and her mother who lives with them.  After a night, we moved on, oblivious to what unexpected surprises lay ahead in the John Day fossil beds and Mule Shoe campground.  The highlight of the visit was the golf cart ride up to the clubhouse for smores, with homemade marshmellow, by the fire pit as we watched the sunset.

When leaving Jack and Becca's place in Powell Butte, I looked at the map and saw John Day Fossil Beds.  I told Frances that I thought we should swing by there for lunch, and then proceed on to the Columbia Gorge and camp for the night.

We broke of of HWY 97 and drove toward Antelope.  Frances found out that Indian Guru, Bagwan Sri Rajnesh and his followers had taken over the town back in the 1990s I believe.  He was a free love guru who ended up going to trial.  I vaguely remember the story from back then, and even these few details that I'm relaying should not be trusted.

We arrived at the first of 3 fossil sites, Clarno.  We walked the short trail along the road and realized that this was a botanical fossil site.  Everything we were able to see was either a leaf or part of a tree.  This fossil bed was from the recent Cenozoic period, about 25-5 million years ago.  While the fossils were interesting, I was increasingly becoming captivated by the valley and the roadway.  I realized we have driven 30 miles and passed about 4 cars.  The roadway was pristine.  There were long, winding climbs.  This was bicycling country.  I became convinced that we needed to stay and get some riding in.   Frances was tired from a night of restless sleep, and was mentally already planning to move into Washington, but I persisted.

We drove into the town of Fossil and had lunch.  We were looking for a campground there, but there was nothing to be found.  I went to the visitors' center to ask directions, it does happen occasionally, to a better camping spot.  The volunteer there was very friendly, and he asked me several questions about what I was looking for in a campground.  He then said, you need to stay at Mule Shoe.   I took him at his word, and and off we drove.  I was a bit concerned that since it was on the John Day River, and it was Friday, and they only had 6 camping spots, but nevertheless, I persisted.

Then we found this.

 When we arrived at Mule Shoe, Tony was parked in spot 3.  He said it was open, and he was just watching a deer.  Apparently, a deer lost its footing on a cliff and fell about 60 feet toward the river.  Tony and Lan, another camper, husband of Sylvia, were watching the bleeding and injured deer attempt to recover.  We set up along the river, in the cool, cloudy air and about 3 hours later found ourselves with 3 new friends and a novel's worth of stories and tales.

Lan and Sylvia were from the Olympic peninsula.  They were both in their 70s and had their motorcycles along to get some training in for the dual sport season.  Lan was a retired forester and Sylvia was Joan Rivers' funnier sister.  They had detailed log of various trips, annotated with the dates of their travels.  It was Lan who suggested the bike ride to me that I ended up taking 2 days later.  They had worked a gold mine claim in Alaska, and Lan flew diesel fuel in 150 gallons at a time to run the generator at the claim.  Sylvia ran the tanker that filled up the belly tank for the 13 trips a day he made taking in fuel.

Tony was the real character.  Within 10 minutes we learned about his spinal cyst and the multiple botched surgeries.  I don't remember exactly how many ex-wives there were, but the on-going problem was that he was just too nice.  There were several years of AA to quit drinking, and now spending half his year on the John Day was the only therapy that he needed.  He had a friend around the corner with a small ranch.  Tony visited daily to get water.  Tony pointed out the bald eagle to me that was flying down river.  He did this every morning and flew back at night.  Soon Tony, was filling us with yarns about the people who lived along the river, the ranches for sale, the romances in bloom, and the hardships of living in such a remote, inaccessible spot.  There was no cell service, no water, no electricity at Mule Shoe.  Tony did service the pit toilet everyday, cleaning it before and after his use, and keeping air freshener in the toilet.  Despite the local burn ban, Tony built a fire each night, mostly because Sylvia told him to.  We all sat around this single fire each night and talked.  What made it so interesting was the fact that Tony, Sylvia and Lan were interested in us as well.  It was not the common situation of someone making the discussion all about them, but we felt that we were just as interesting to us as we were to them.

I could really go on for pages.  I know that this is probably awful blogging style, too long, too specific, but I'm doing this for my own sake, since I don't won't to forget this time.   I had an amazing 70 mile bike ride with 7000 feet of climb, and a descent into Twickingham that was unprecedented.  Frances and I took another ride up to Winlock and into Spray for lunch.  We stopped at the cafe and had burgers.  I walked down the street to the post office to mail an obsidian knife to my dad for Fathers' Day.  Walking back, I saw a sign on the motel that said Cyclists Welcome.  Underneath it noted that they had showers and WiFi.  I entered the lobby and asked about the price of showers.  The man sort of looked me over and said, $5?  I said great, we'd be back.  Frances and I returned and showered, and then caught up on email, FB, etc.    When we got back to the campground, I told Tony about the showers.  He had no idea.  I had one-upped mister river gossip himself.  I felt like a local.  Here's the real gem.  Later that day, Tony was making his rounds and was back into Spray.  He was in the cafe where we had lunch.  The owner told him that she'd had cyclists in that day.  Tony, being Tony said, yeah, I sent them here.  The waitress then chimed in, "They left me a $5 tip!"  Which was true.  Apparently, Canadians are doing most of the riding here, and they may be assuming that the tip is included in the price like most European countries.  Don't know, but to have the gossip of our lunch and the amount of our tip come back to us a news, really delighted us.  I would bet that someone we encountered that day had never met anyone from Alabama, and would probably have to look around to find it on a map.  I was certainly in that position with John Day, longest un-dammed river in the US only a few days ago, but now I have a new spiritual home.

Oregon

What a difference a day makes.  On the 30th of May we spent the second of our two nights in the Jedediah Smith Redwood State & National Park.  It was quiet, serene, spiritual, with soft lighting and sounds.  The surroundings of the Stout Redwood Grove were in control and I felt humbled to be there.  Only 22 miles later we find ourselves driving along the Oregon Coast, which was sunny, salty, thunderous and wide open.  A few photos are added here.  It is a different type of spectacle, but equally moving.  One key difference for me was to just listen to the waves pounding the shore and the rock.

What really struck me was the difference in the composition of the folks in the campground.   In the Redwoods, we had lots of folks stop by and chat.  That said, it felt like a place where strangers from all corners had found themselves sharing a space.   This town in Oregon, Brookings, feels more like a local spot.  There are groups of friends and family camping together.  There are dogs, babies, groups of teens.  It feels like a cross between Michigan and the South.  Not sure why Michigan, but some of the visuals (rural housing, political signage, commercial structures) definitely remind me of the Southeast.  I guess Michigan because of the green and the people who seem to have worked hard, done well and who love the water and the outdoors.  This is not something I and can describe, it is just an intuition.

We are now starting our third month, which will soon lead us to the half way point of our "planned trip".  Things continue to go better than expected.  I had one of the hydraulic lifts for the galley hatch fail, but I was able to find a replacement at a NAPA store in Crescent City.  We used the solar panels for something like 27 out of 30 days, and managed to keep the fridge going and all our gadgets charged.  It was not until the dense foliage of the Redwoods that they could not provide the needed juice. 

After a few days on the coast, we are heading to Crater Lake.  The Lake is at elevation, and the rim road is not yet open.  I'm hoping to bicycle around the rim, but that may not work out.  After that, we are intent on visiting Jack Beck in central Oregon.  Jack, we are thinking next weekend, 10th/11th.  We'll check in with you mid-week and see this this still works for you.

The weather has been great.  I think we've had rain twice since we left Austin back in early April.  Other than Death Valley and Tucson, we've had no hot weather either.  Eagle Lake, outside of Susanville, CA was unbearable due to mosquitoes, but that is about the extent of any environmental factors that we've had to deal with.  Oh, the wind is Lone Pine is not be be discounted.

After Oregon we move toward central and western Washington, avoid the SEATAC area entirely and then off into Canada.