Neal and Karen’s Summer Vacation

 

            We packed the pickup and left Thursday, July 27, after lunch, to begin the grand outdoor adventure, headed toward Eugene.  We cut off at Rickreall, then cut over on Hwy 34 to the freeway, after Neal made his camera store stop in Corvallis.  Just before Eugene, we took the Hwy 58 cut-off over Willamette Pass.  That was the day a gasoline tanker exploded at milepost 74.  We didn’t know that, though, only that the road had been closed. Neal wasn’t worried because we were told there was a detour and our map showed some side roads.  We were headed for La Pine to stay the night before heading out to our cabin in the forest above Lakeview on Friday.

            By the time we reached milepost 74, all that remained was the wreckage of the burned-out rig to the side of the road and we had one-way traffic.  We ate dinner in Crescent in a funky restaurant with bottles of all shapes and descriptions, bottles that had contained booze to bottles that had contained Avon products, on shelves on all four walls surrounding the diners.  Stuffed animals hung from the ceiling, the shelves, and from above the fireplace mantlepiece where a sign stated, “Please don’t feed the animals.”  Of course, mothers took photos of their children in front of the sign.

            Our motel in La Pine, the Best Western, was a lovely place to stay, especially since I was considering having no showers for a week.  Neal did buy a solar shower and we did use it, but one had to be extremely speedy.

            After breakfast the next morning at La Pine Inn where the waitress told us she was vegetarian but didn’t eat very many vegetables, (huh?) we headed to Fort Rock.  What an interesting bit of nature.  We climbed around, exploring, and Neal discovered an owl, probably a young barn owl, sleeping in a crevice.  He took a great photo that will no doubt grace a calendar page, and the owl was the subject of one of his paintings done at the cabin.

            At Picture Rock Pass, we stopped to go look at petroglyphs on the hillside alongside the road.  There were people riding horses, a couple of bears, some deer, and some other four-footed beasts.  With petroglyphs, one isn’t quite sure of the artists’ intentions.

            We stopped in Paisley for lunch the day before their world-famous Mosquito Festival.  T-shirts for sale advertised the restaurant, “conveniently located in the middle of nowhere.” J

            On to Lakeview, past some mountainsides, across from a wayside, that looked like Bryce Canyon spires.  A distinct layer of basalt, and then above, a layer of what seemed to be limestone carved into cone shapes.  We passed Summer Lake and saw that there were cabins to rent and father down the road, hot springs.

            Finally, we reached Lakeview, got the cabin lock combination and checked in, got gas, got last-minute supplies, and headed for Aspen Cabin on cut-off 3615 just past Mud Creek Campground.

            We had fun settling in, setting up the outdoor screened gazebo, the umbrella, the cooking area, the kitchen area, our cots, and so forth.  The next morning, after I realized in the night that cot sleeping was not for me (Most of me fit on the cushion, but where were my arms supposed to go, and how can anyone sleep lodged like a mummy in a sleeping bag?), I put two cushions on the floor and then was fine.   Neal got up and took a walk with his camera, and I did the same, although we went opposite directions.  The smells here are fresh and clear, like the sweet, acrid sagebrush, and the pines, and the air reeling with dust.

             A small creek meanders in front of the cabin and its tinkling makes a pleasant backdrop to the day’s activities.  Aspen and willows and water plants line up along the creek for their drinks of water.  Birds, bees, butterflies—all are with us.  A small junco came to say hello, and Neal saw a Stellar’s Jay, besides the normal warblers and sparrows.

            Saturday morning as we sat in our chairs reading, a parade of cows and calves clomped by.  We waved and said hello, and they looked at us as if to say, “Oh.  Just humans.  Big deal.”  Half an hour later, they paraded by going back down the road.  That was the first time I’ve seen a parade both coming and going.

            Neal played guitar and I practiced the recorder, but mostly I read and finished the last Harry Potter.  I proclaim it a fine job.  JK Rowling teaches good lessons about friendship, faith, and courage, and about the abuse of power.

            We went back in to Lakeview for more ice, hand sanitizer, lettuce, and hornet spray, and of course, ice cream cones in the late afternoon.  We topped the day off by singing from our songbook after dinner and went to bed happy.

            Sunday I took a big walk down to Bull Prairie, where, indeed, the bulls were bellering.  I think they were bossing the heifers around.  No wonder some of them left to come our way on Saturday.

            I startled a chipmunk as I rounded the corner of the cabin—he was peeking into the window to see what we were up to.  He scurried under the cabin off to tell his friends what he’d seen.  Neal took a cool photo of a tree with a hole in it, and a woodpecker serenaded us during breakfast.

            In the afternoon, we headed for Drake Peak, about six miles, straight up, away.  The elevation is 8222 or so and the view was spectacular—360 degrees of topography to visually explore.  We could see all the lakes of the Warner Wetlands, Mt. Shasta, the back of the Steens, Hart Mountain, and so on.  A little chipmunk came to say hello and I wondered that his fur wasn’t bald since the wind is so ferocious.  There are a couple of towers up there and buildings with solar panels, a restroom/outhouse, and the guard station, which is windows on all sides.  Inside, there was a propane stove, table and chairs, a cot, and one of those quadrant thingies to figure out in degrees where a fire is located.  Too cold and windy for me up there.  I did get cell service, though, and called Pat, who was watching our place and watering for us, to see how things were at  home.

            We were still in an exploring mood, so we drove past our cabin on up the road and took in some more lovely vistas.  We turned around at the junction where one can go to Honey Creek Park and the hang-gliding, para-gliding launch.  Every day loads of younger people drove by to go jump into the air and sail through the sky.

            Monday was Plush and Hart Mountain and hot springs day.  We got t-shirts, ice, and ice cream bars at Plush grocery store (for sale, in case you’re interested in a new career), and then stopped at the Warner Wetlands interpretive site to read about the reclamation project.  This area is spectacular—the enormity of what was reclaimed and the beauty of the wetlands now.  On the way up before the refuge office, we stopped at an overlook to see how large the whole wetland area is.  The lake here, one big one back then, 10,000 years ago, used to be 360 feet higher and the water line mark is left on the cliffs.  It’s called Poker Jim’s bathtub ring.  Someone had a sense of humor!  The vegetation is still lush and relatively green this late in the summer. 

            I enjoyed the architecture of the houses at the refuge station.  I want to know more about them and who designed them.  The windows intrigued me.  I made Neal take a photo of the houses.

            We lunched in a grove of aspens in the Hot Springs campground.  A woodpecker flew in to lunch with us and knocked free his lunch from the aspen bark.  His black and white colorings camouflaged him well, only his red head marking giving him away.

            A big family from California drove in with their trailer of dirt bikes and ice chests of beer.  They said many side roads had been closed since they’d been here before and they noticed also how green it still was, much more so than on their last visit.

            We drove over to the hot springs inhabited by only one soaker when we got there.  I saw his head pop up when we arrived and I think he was putting on his swim trunks because when he saw we were going sans suits, he said, “Oh, good, you’re not wearing suits,” and he whipped his off pronto.  A Richard Gere look-alike, he’d been traveling up from California, looking for hot springs and camping.  He had traveled from Frenchglen the day before, much of the trip going 5 mph because it was so dry and dusty.  He’d had an unpleasant encounter with a forest ranger in a campground not far from his home in Death Valley, and that reminded me of the essay I’d just read by Nevada Barr, who’d been a forest ranger for many years.  She said a sheriff in a seminar once told them that it was their job to take shit from people because that was a more peaceful solution to conflict and she postulated that perhaps we all should take shit more often and let it all pass by, rather than rising to violent action in retribution.

            That made me think of Nick Wood who is now a forest ranger and I want him to read (even though he hates to read) this essay.

            Anyway, a gang of folks came to use the springs, and since it’s not all that big—although the new rock wall around it is lovely—we three got out and said our goodbyes.

            Coming back down off the mountain was as lovely as going up.  Although we saw no mountain sheep, we did see some swans and a crane.  Going up, we’d seen an eagle fly over the road, a coyote nonchalantly standing in the road, and a group of antelope that included a baby.  The coyote was very doglike, not the grew-mustardy color they usually are, but mottled brown and cream, like some dog gene got in there somehow.  One of the antelope had black and white rings around his neck and they all were so beautiful standing in the road and then loping off.  Neal got a good photo of them.  They are so graceful in flight.

            We took the road from Plush to Adel along another lake and there we saw pelicans and Canada geese, thousands of them camping out, taking the waters, as it were.  Later, we found out the lake was called Pelican Lake.  Duh.

            Like the Plush store, the Adel store was also for sale.  I would think store-owning would be a difficult business, with  most of your income generated in the touristy summer months and barely scraping by the rest of the time.  It would be lonely and bleak as well, given the winter weather.  Still, those places are necessary for the ranchers who need their services.

            Tuesday, after chicken sausage and egg breakfast, it was go to town-errand day.  When the dishes were done, we packed up with our load of dirty laundry and our bag full of garbage—hoping to NOT mix up the two black plastic sacks—our books, and sketch pads, our grocery list, and headed to town.  At the gas station, we asked about laundry and shower facilities, and put our trash in their dumpster with their permission.

            At the fairgrounds, we enjoyed HOT, streaming water, and washed and shaved all parts of us requiring such action.  Aaaaah!  Then off to the laundromat for washing and drying clothing, regarding and guessing stories of the human species we encountered there, and reading my novel and Neal reading the 1997 Readers Digest off the pile of proffered magazines on the table—all in air-conditioned comfort. 

            Lunch was next on the agenda where I enjoyed a lovely fake seafood salad and Neal a tuna sandwich and macaroni salad.  Next, the search for a foam pad for him and a blanket for me netted results, and we celebrated with iced coffee drinks and a checking of e-mail.

            To the grocery store for supplies and ice we went in our last leg of the day’s journey.  A mop to clean the floor of the cabin when we leave because the one there is filthy and so greasy it won’t even soak up water.  Food, beverages, paper towel, and then we were homeward bound.

            After lugging everything in, I undertook the monumental task of sweeping down dead insects and carpenter ant regurgitations, and then mopping the floor for now.

            Steak and salad for dinner with wine accompaniment, a nice fire, and then bed.

            Wednesday, I saw how busy insects are in their world day and night.  A moth was some inches in on the toilet paper roll and it had rent a hole half an inch long—what a hefty undertaking!  I shooed it outside, urging it to take a well-needed rest of its jaws or proboscis or whatever moths chew with.

            Our daily ritual of coffee, talk (today I encouraged a campfire as well), breakfast, dishes-doings, teeth brushing, vitamin and herbs-taking.  Sun, sun, sun every day.  How nice that’s been, cool, then warming, and then back to cool again at evening.  There were big winds last night and it was still warm at 11 p.m.  The plan for now is some yoga, a walk up the road, and then some mandolin playing and Diane Ackerman reading.

            While I was taking a much-needed nap, the wind came up, the clouds rolled in and by the time I’d gone outside, thunder began and rain was evident.  Neal took in all his paintings, his easel, other items not impermeable and we brought in our chairs just as huge drops began to fall.  A helicopter flew by overhead and a forest ranger truck sped by.  We worried about lightening strikes.  Rain pelted us and the greedy, dry ground for about half an hour.

            Things cooled off and the air smelled clean.  Afterwards, I had a solar shower and I smelled clean too.  This night we stayed up late, watching the campfire burn and waiting for stars to appear, and they finally did, dodging clouds to get through to our eyes.  My bed I finally figured out, and I had only a small awakening in the middle of the night.  Otherwise, I finally slept comfortably.

            Thursday after breakfast we went to Abert Rim.  Again, we did not see mountain sheep, but we did see a multitude of birds.  A man wearing chest waders was in the lake, towing a raft full of white buckets.  We determined that he was catching sand shrimp for bait.  The ducks, catching their own quota of sand shrimp, twirled in the water and then ducked down  under the water for their meal.  What a lovely aquatic place this must’ve been for my ancestors 10,000 years ago.

            Back in town we found showers (Ahhh!) and then a cute, quaint restaurant called The Dinner Bell.  Homemade bread.  Need I say more?  It gets the nod for breakfast tomorrow.  Traveling south of town just over the California border, we went to Gooselake state park.  Again, many birds, among them avocets, stilts, and some kind of geese I think were brants.  We saw a cute yard and fence full of junk art or trash art as it is sometimes called, and a cute latticework deck and porch.  Back in town, we drove to the top of the peak behind the town where the radio and TV towers are and where hang gliders and para gliders take off from.  An impressive sight, the whole valley is laid out for the on-looker.  It’s easy to see where the lake used to be before L.A. sucked up all the water out of it.  Lakeview is really more like Lake Squint or Lake Drive-to-view now.

            A bowl of ice cream and two blocks of ice and we were on our way back to #1041 Aspen Cabin.  This morning, the hummingbird I’d thought I’d heard before came right to the breakfast table to say hello.  I enjoyed it so much more than the twin bees who also showed up.

            Once back at the cabin, we underwent the task of trying to get the screened tent (or as Neal called it, Karen’s Torture Device), back into its carrying sack.  It took brute force, but miraculously, no swearing, and one inconvenient hot flash to get it back, but it’s there for the next time we venture into the woods.

            I spent much of the afternoon cleaning up and re-packing so we can leave right after morning coffee and a good mopping tomorrow morning.  I hope I can remember how I packed everything so it all fits back in, because there was NO room to spare!

            Poems I left on the bulletin board:

 

The aspen leaves

take turns twisting

in the breeze—

“You first.”

“No, you.”

“I insist.”

“Whee!”

So mannerly

So joyful.

 

 

Always something to see at Aspen Cabin #1042

Early morning

and late night

the wild turkey

on the near hill

gobbles.

Coyotes howl

their success.

Cows parade up the road

and back

on their secret bovine mission

expecting our applause twice

I suppose.

They don’t throw candy.

A hummingbird

whizzes by my ear

at breakfast

saying hello.

One nosy chipmunk

I catch

gazing in the window

above our beds.

Intent on purpose,

a woodpecker

across the road

rents the aspen and pine bark

searching sustenance.

Moss grows

on dead tree limbs

and on all but the northern sides

of trunks.

A creek rushes by

on its way downhill

all tinkly.

The wind sings,

“Hallelujah!”

 

            Up early Friday morning, we remarked that it seemed the week had just flown by.  We dressed, packed up the pickup, mopped out the cabin, and said our goodbyes.  Breakfast with HOMEMADE toast at The Dinner Bell (also for sale) was all we‘d hoped it would be.   We took the Sprague River road past Bly and Beatty over to Hwy. 97.  More beautiful country in what I suppose is hard winter weather.  Neal could have done a falling-down barn photo essay.

            Up 97, then off on the Diamond Lake highway, straight through the trees.  As I’d not been on any of these roads before, the day consisted of a lot of head twisting and oogling, like those bobbing heads people put on their dashboards.  Finally, Diamond Lake appeared, and the resort, with, yes, HOT SHOWERS and a real BED!  We took our own little tour of the premises, and then Neal changed into his shorts and went down by the lake to read.  I took a HOT SHOWER and washed everything about myself, and then lay spread-eagled on the bed, because I finally could.  I put on my shorts and went to join Neal down at the lake.  I took my book, but I had more fun just watching kids play in the lake, splash, throw balls back and forth with their dads and so on.  One black lab next to us refused to go in the water and was scared of the birds that flew about and landed near him.  We diagnosed him neurotic.

            Our dinner was a gourmet dinner overlooking the lake, with a very nice wine.  Then, counting ourselves blessed once again, we went over to the evening performance of the Old Time Fiddlers who were having a convention at the lake.  One performer got so excited because we knew the new song he was performing and sang along.  We’d sung it at song circle several times before.  He came over and talked to us afterwards.  We had fun singing along with all the songs.  The youngest old time fiddler there was 7 and another one was around that age.  Of course, they were hits.  We went to bed happy and dreamed music all night long.  I woke up once in the night singing all the verses I know to  “Hallelujah, I’m a Bum.”  I know a LOT of verses.

            Coming home Saturday, we took more roads new to me.  We went west on 138 through the hills, following the Umpqua River.  We saw the place where two rivers collide.  After Roseburg, we did a wine country tour and stopped and did a wine tasting and buying at Melrose Winery.  Lovely country over there, all rolling hills and large estates.  We went on up to Elkton, and then over, following the Umpqua to the coast, and Reedsport, and fog, and wind.

            On up the coast we drove, past Florence and Yachats and Waldport, Newport, Depoe Bay, Lincoln City, closer and closer to home.  When we drove into our driveway, we could see that things had grown inches since we’d left.  Neal spent the next two hours mowing, and still he didn’t get all of the lawn done.  I unpacked and did dishes and laundry, and saw that beans and peas are ready in the garden.  I picked strawberries and see the blueberries need another picking.  The weeds are overtaking the garden and need quashing.  The artichokes are ready to be plucked.  The cats came to say hello, but are still miffed that we’ve been gone, so they ran off to play some more.  At home, in our own beds, we dreamed of our wonderful adventure, and the gifts from nature we were given.  We live in a state of beauty.  I would have it no other way.

   ---Karen Keltz, August, 2007