Thoughts on the Oregon Trail

One general theme of this (and past trips) has been the greater appreciation we’ve been having for the early settlers. We’ve been stopping at historical markers and just looking at the land. It’s absolutely unbelievable the places people went with Conestoga wagons. And the distances they covered. People actually took oxen and wagons through Craters of the Moon! It took us hours to drive some of the distances through mind-numbing flat/hill/sagebrush terrain and we were in an air conditioned car (with music) on a paved highway!

Classic Roadfood.com experience

We chased another Roadfood recommendation into the southwest section of Portland. Our map didn’t do quite what we thought it would do so we ended up with a nice tour of some of the residential areas in the city. After a long, convoluted route made more complicated by construction and one way streets we ended up at our restaurant. Which was closed. So we grabbed a random Thai place and had a fantastic meal.

Columbia River Gorge a Bust

After Mount Saint Helens we decided we had enough time to swing through at least part of the Columbia River Gorge on our way to the hotel. The map listed a place called the Columbia River Gorge Interpretive Center about 40 miles along the river that we thought might be interesting to check out. We took Route 14 along the edge of the river but despite the grand entrance sign proclaiming it a national scenic area there really wasn’t much to look at. The views that weren’t blocked by roadside trees weren’t of huge rock cliff faces that we’d been expecting but more river and meadow valley. Not once did we even think about reaching for the camera.

We crossed the grandly named Bridge of the Gods ($1 per car) and drove to Portland along I-84. Yes that’s the same I-84 we have back in CT. Turns out it ends in Portland. We’ve now been to both ends of the road. Haven’t done a whole lot of the middle, but we’ve seen both ends.

It Wasn’t $9 So We Didn’t Bother

We decided to push on to the last visitor center, rather than stopping all along the way. The AAA book said it would be $3, instead it was $8 per person. Honestly, if it had been $8 and less of a mob scene complete with frantic rushing to make the next talk, we would have paid. If it had been free and with mob scene, we would have fought the mob. We settled for going to a nearby outlook and getting the same view without interpretive exhibits.

Mount Saint Helens

We headed off to Mount Saint Helens. There’s no direct way to get there. As the crow flies it would have been quite short. As we went was 2 – 3 hours. The views of Mount Saint Helens are remarkably beautiful; the mountain is covered in strips of snow. It turns out that the volcano became active again in 2004 (hence the sale on the “here we go again” t-shirts from 2006), and this day was no exception with pretty continual wisps of steam coming from the center of the crater.

There are a ton of visitor centers, and it’s tough to tell which is about what. We stopped at the free Forest Learning Center, which close observation of the nature of the exhibits shows it is probably brought to us by the forest products company, Weyerhaeuser, which owns most of the land in the area.

Some areas of the mountain have been reforested by Weyerhaeuser starting in 1982, and some of those have been fertilized as well. Other areas have been left to recover on their own. It’s very interesting to see which what has happened where. The least amount of re-growth has occurred on the crater side of the mountain. The opposite side of the mountain almost looks like a regular mountain with snow capped peak and forests.

Back to Mount Rainier

For our route back to the Portland airport, we decided to spend the day at Mt. St. Helens and Columbia River Gorge. In order to have enough time for them both in one day, we would need to spend the night in the area. Thus, we rationalized going back to Mt. Rainier. We spent the last camping night of our trip back at our favorite place, but we did try a different campground (Cougar Rock, nice, but not nearly as nice as Ohanapecosh).

We were set up around 5, perfect length of time to take a hike. A glance at the map on the board in front of the ranger station led us to Carter Falls, a 2.2 mile round trip trail with a 500’ elevation gain on the way up. Sounded perfect. We took it nice and easy on the way up, stopping every so often to look at plants, trees, etc. There were actually two waterfalls at the top, well worth the effort. Plus, going down was fun. At the base of the hike is the Nisqually River, which comes from glacial melt, as opposed to melting snow. It really does look very different – very milky, churned. The other is exceedingly clear.

Our last ranger program of the trip was the right note to go out on. Ranger Jim’s presentation was a tour de force. It began with a primer on plate tectonics and how they cause various geological features (like mountains and volcanoes), and segued seamlessly (how, we’re still not sure) into plant and animal adaptations. It basically covered pretty much an entire high school earth science class with a liberal helping of biology as well. He was only momentarily thrown when his laptop went into ‘hibernate’ mode (‘gone the way of the marmot,’ he quipped as he went to check on it) forcing him to finish without the aid of slides. As most of the evening talks we’d been to this trip had lasted on the order of 20 minutes, we were surprised to be there well past dark (and after 10). But it was worth it.

Decision Time

It was 11:45 and check out time at the campground was noon. It was decision time. Should we stay or should we go? The main choice seemed to be whether to head back to Mount Rainier or spend another day here. We waffled and ended up deciding to stay and make the eastward drive to see the rest of the North Cascades Scenic Highway. We’d heard from our neighbors at the campground that it was worth it.

This turned out to be one of the best decisions of the trip. As it happens, Colonial Creek is essentially the line of demarcation in this area between boring, obstructed views of North Cascades and gorgeous vistas of the mountains. We’d stayed west of our campground and missed the jaw-dropping scenery that makes up “the most beautiful mountain drive in Washington.” One particular spot, the Washington Pass, was indescribable. (It’s worth noting, though, that by the time we hit this we were into national forest land as opposed to the park itself).

NCI to the Rescue

While at The Eatery, Amy found a brochure about North Cascades Institute, a local non-profit organization with naturalist-led programming and (generally) paid excursions (hikes, canoe trips, retreats, etc.) in the area. They happened to have free first come, first served offerings on Saturdays throughout the summer. These take the form of short canoe trips and hikes.

This seemed promising so we scrambled to get to NCI by 8:30 a.m. to sign up for the naturalist walk. After that walk we would decide if we were leaving North Cascades and, if so, where we were going. Turns out we were the only people signed up for the 9:15 hike. After we declined the canoe trip, there were two of us, an NCI naturalist (Adam), and an NCI grad student (Lauren) hiking the 1.75 mile (one way) Sourdough Creek Trail.

After sitting and/or walking through an inordinate number of first time ranger/student volunteer hikes/talks over the past couple of weeks it was a huge relief to be with two people who actually knew what they were doing. Adam had been with NCI for two years and really knew the land and the trail. Lauren was towards the tail end of her year-long internship and seemed to have an interest in plants, which was great for Amy. They were both more than amiable and we had very interesting conversation as we went.

We kept a pretty good pace but stopped frequently to look at plants, slugs, mosses, etc. Midway through the trip up Lauren pulled out a plant reference book and kept it close at hand for the duration. There was a nice hidden water fall at the top of the trail and Lauren took a picture of us (we got our feet wet fording the stream). These free hikes are meant to illustrate what NCI has to offer and usually last on the order of just over an hour. We started at 9:15 and returned at 11:45.

Maybe a half-mile up the trail we passed a stone wall and Adam announced we were now within the borders of North Cascades National Park. Yay!

A Cool Program

We slid into our campsite with just a whisp of time left to make the 9 p.m. ranger program. The ranger was part of a new teacher to ranger to teacher program, so even though it was the first time she had given this talk, it was great. She presented great information on old growth forests that really tied together and illuminated lots of bits and pieces we’d learned along the way. An upgrade from the college kids and first-time public speakers we’d seen a lot of this trip.

Marblemount – Dining Mecca

The nearest town to our campground was the tiny hamlet of Marblemount. We were referred there for showers by a ranger at our campground, Colonial Creek (we asked, there weren’t complaints or anything) and we decided to grab some grub as well. We eneded up eating breakfast and dinner there at two different places. Surprisingly, both had great food and atmosphere. The great grandmother of the folks who own The Eatery pretty much started the town with a roadhouse to serve the miners in the late 1800s. In the 1890s she caught Nome Fever and off to Alaska she went to open a roadhouse there for two years. She kept a diary while up north and when she returned to Marblemount she wrote it up. They had copies of it lying about. Pretty interesting.

At dinner, we had an awesome view of too many hummingbirds to count. The Diner had feeders set up at each window and the show was amazing. The food was pretty darn good, the chef came out to see how it was, urge us to stay as long as we wanted, and suggest places to visit in the area.

The Weather

During our drive through small towns in Oregon and Idaho, we’d seen bank thermometers reading 96 degrees. At Crater Lake, we saw an overnight low of 32. We may have gone below that mark at Seven Devils Campground in Riggins, Idaho. We’d slept in everything from nearly nothing to fleece tops, sweatpants and double socks.

One thing we had been fortunate to dodge until recently, though, was rain. Yup. Rain. But we’ve been in the Pacific Northwest for quite some time; makes sense we got some of the fabled wet weather. It’s not hard, pounding, all day rain. It’s intermittent, drippy, make you grumpy rain.

Why It’s So Hard to Enjoy the Park

For those who expect their national parks to be vast expanses of stunning vistas and unspoiled wilderness, this park is different. While those features are here, it is very difficult to enjoy them without doing some serious backpacking.

An organization of mountaineers called Mazama started lobbying for national parkhood in the late 1800s. The area was national forest, and three hydroelectric dams were built to harness the power of the Skagit (rhymes with ‘gadget’) River from the 1930s to the 1950s, and still efforts continued to make it a national park. They were finally successful in 1968, but by then the three dams were in place (today they supply around ¼ of the power to Seattle), and the park was carved (rather awkwardly) out of the two recreational areas and the two national forests in the region. Turns out national forests and national parks have quite different goals. National forests are much more interested in managing the land for lots of uses (including camping, hiking, logging, and hunting, among other interests). National parks are more about preservation.

Because neither unit of the national park is near a road, the park itself is inaccessible unless you’re hiking – often a significant distance. We talked to one ranger who’s been here a month and hasn’t yet stepped foot in the park. The land along the only road, Route 20 (a.k.a. the Northern Cascades Highway), is technically the Ross Lake National Recreation Area. And the views of the park from this land are often intruded upon by huge power stanchions, power lines, and/or the dams. This may also be the reason why North Cascades National Park is the least-visited park in the system. Hundreds of thousands of people come to the two recreation areas a year, but in 2004 less than seventeen thousand of them actually traveled within the borders of the park itself.

On To North Cascades

It was a long ride to the ferry and we arrived around 5:55 p.m. for the 6:45 sail time. This gave us just enough time to grab an amazing pizza before moving our car on board the vessel.

The ferry ride was fun. Once we were on the boat, we realized it was only a couple hours from the landing point to North Cascades. Thus began a trip reminiscent of last year’s late evening dash to Yellowstone.

We made it to North Cascades. We were not expecting the power lines. And the hydro electric dams with small cities near them to support the workers. This is far from the “unspoiled wilderness” we’d been driving through for much of our trip. And so jarring.

We found the campground Alan had recommended around 9:45. It’s difficult to get a sense of how a campground works at that hour, much less pick a good site. But we think we did pretty darn well, grabbing a walk-in site on the edge of a lake.

We Came, We Saw, It Rained, We Hunted Futilely for Information, We Left

Morning’s light showed us the Olympic National Park campsite we’d landed in (we arrived around 9:30 after the game) was in old growth forest. Very nice, but not as nice as Mount Rainier. With some help from a Visitor Center, we headed toward beach and rain forest, two of the unique ecosystems at this park we were looking forward to learning about. Unfortunately, the array of ranger programs was considerably less plentiful than usual, and when we caught up with one, the ranger was a bad combination of new, ditzy, and tree hugger. Frustrated at the lack of information and disappointed in the park, we decided to break for the much recommended North Cascades National Park and see how far we could get.

File This Under ‘Glad We Did It; Won’t Likely Do It Again’

The drive to Seattle was distressingly traffic laden. Somehow, we found the stadium (it helps that it sticks up like a beacon), but had trouble with getting tickets and parking. We didn’t want to pay $30 (yes, that’s THIRTY dollars) to park and then discover the game was sold out. The streets around the stadium were filled with cops, pedestrians, and massive amounts of slow moving traffic. Amy popped out near the ticket sales and snagged two cheap seats ($18 each, all that was left) while Scott circled the block (which is not nearly as easy as it seems it ought to be). After a while, Scott came back around, and Amy signaled him wildly from the opposite side of the street that she had the tickets and he should park in the $20 garage he had just passed. With a nifty maneuver that irritated the officer nearby (the first of several of Seattle’s Parking Enforcement officials who had words for Scott), he went off to park. And then, to Amy’s surprise, came driving back out. Turns out he had no cash left and they didn’t take plastic. After much more irritating of police officers, Amy and Scott were reunited, and engaged in the search for a parking space. Finally, we found one that let us in for $30 (the next one was charging $40), and we were able to take many escalators to our nosebleed seats. Actually, the seats were pretty awesome.

A few quick impressions: Safeco is a very nice stadium. Even three rows from the top we felt like we were close to the action. Statistics are updated during the game in real time. Matsuzaka records an out, his innings pitched go up, his ERA down (though we do question the 107 MPH radar gun reading). Food was varied but expensive (Alaskan cod! $11.). Fans were generally very polite and there seemed to be less beer drinking.

Including $30 for parking, we spent a total of $81 for game, parking, and food. Not bad at all.

Video from our seats during the game.

How Scott Rationalized Dragging Us Out Of the Wilderness

For much of the trip (and for a few weeks before it), we’d been debating about trying to catch the Red Sox when they were at Safeco Field to play the Mariners. The most likely game would be one on Wednesday afternoon. When Scott checked the schedule a few days back and saw it would be Daisuke Matsuzaka pitching for Boston, he realized tickets might be hard to come by. For the non-baseball fans reading this, following is as brief a summary as he can make it on why this would be.

Although baseball is known as ‘America’s national pastime,’ television ratings suggest heavily that it has been supplanted in popularity by football on a regular basis, and ‘large event’ sports affairs – like the Final Four in college basketball and the Masters in golf – regularly have more viewers than baseball’s World Series. In the rest of the world, baseball is mostly an afterthought to soccer and other sports. One major exception to this is Japan. Japan has a thriving professional baseball scene. Experts who’ve been involved with both Major League Baseball and its Japanese counterpart say that overall the level of play in Japan is equivalent to between AAA ball here (our top minor league) and the majors.

Unlike many Latin American countries which don’t have great baseball leagues and essentially export their best players to the U.S. (David Ortiz and Pedro Martinez are but two popular examples) most Japanese players have stayed in Japan. Only recently have a small handful of players decided to test their abilities against what many believe to be the best competition in the world here in the U.S. (though it should be noted that Japan did win the inaugural World Baseball Classic – equivalent to The World Cup in soccer – last year so they must be doing something pretty well). One of the first high profile players to hop the Pacific was Ichiro Suzuki, the centerfielder for the Seattle Mariners. Since his arrival here several years ago he has consistently been one of the better players in the league. He hits for a very high batting average (he was hitting .362 during Wednesday’s game which puts him second in the American League), is known as a base running threat, and his speed allows him to track down more fly balls than most in the outfield.

He has found a welcoming home here in Seattle, a Pacific Rim community where Japanese translations of English storefront signs are not uncommon. In fact, the Mariners are majority owned by Nintendo, a Japanese company and one of the world’s leading video game makers.

Ichiro, as he is universally known, and his success paved the way for many of the Japanese players who have followed, none of whom have been as heralded as Daisuke Matsuzaka, the pitcher the Red Sox signed to a much ballyhooed contract this past off season.

Matsuzaka achieved rock star status in Japan, his fame beginning in 1998 when he was still a high schooler. He was named the rookie of the year in 1999 his first professional season in Japan and the MVP of last year’s World Baseball Classic. It is said that when he pitched in Japan, people would gather outside electronics stores to watch the game. In short, he is Elvis.

Because of the popularity of baseball in Japan generally, and of certain players in particular, the higher profile players in the U.S. often have their own contingent of Japanese media who do nothing but cover their exploits for the fans back home.

The Mariners played at Fenway earlier this season. Due to the highly anticipated match up of Matzusaka and Ichiro, about 120 media credentials for these games were issued to Japanese media alone.

Wednesday’s game would mark the first time Matzusaka and Ichiro would square off in Seattle. Think Elvis and The Beatles on the same ticket. First in Nashville then in Liverpool.

If You’ve Ever Drunk A Bottle Of ‘Pure Glacier Water,’ You’ve Been Had.

Our ranger-led hike through snow to an overlook of the Nisqually Glacier covered the geology of the region, the activity of the volcano, and glaciers. The most striking of all was seeing the terminus of the glacier: a gray wall that appeared to be rock with water trickling out the bottom. Rather horrific.

Best of all may have been his lesson on how to walk in snow: when going down hill, kick your heel in. When going uphill, jab your toe in hard enough to kick up a spray of snow.

Mount Rainier

We were expecting this stop to be akin to Crater Lake: Oh look, a nice thing to see. Pretty. Ok, done now.

We were so wrong.

We certainly were not expecting an old growth forest. We’d come back just for that. The babbling of the brooks, the cry of the ravens, the stately conifers reaching so incredibly high. We are fortunate to have probably the most isolated campsite in the grounds, which doubtless heightens the effect.

And then there’s the mountain. Maybe if we’d had the obstructed view that’s supposedly more the norm we wouldn’t have been so affected. But we didn’t and we were. The video we saw at Crater Lake showed re-enactments of people finding the Lake for the first time. One guy dropped to his knees. Mount Rainier had that sort of affect on us.

Everything here is very spiritual. We are in a somewhat constant state of awe. We haven’t even begun to explore the park, either, having only driven the 21 miles from Ohanapecosh to Paradise over and back a couple of times, and taken a couple of hikes. We could easily see ourselves returning.

The Tatoosh Mountain range is sadly overshadowed by its more famous cousin but it certainly has its own beauty and allure as well. Not all that different from the Sawtooths and the Tetons, more of a sharp, jagged, pointy look as opposed to the large rounded peaks of the Cascades, which were born out of volcanic activity rather than tectonic shifts.

The Flood

Unless you’re an ardent National Park watcher, you probably aren’t aware of the excitement that’s been going on around here. In November of last year the park got 18 inches of rain in 36 hours. Not surprisingly, this triggered a HUGE flood. Mt. Rainier was incorporated as a National Park in 1899 (the fifth National Park in the US). Last November was the largest flood since that time. It closed the park for 6 months, the first time that has ever happened as well. The park only re-opened last month. Roads and campsites were literally washed away.

Virtually every place we’ve gone thus far has been affected in some way. For example, the Grove of the Patriarchs is closed to visitors because the suspension bridge (which they recommended only one person at a time on even in its best days) leading over the river to it was damaged. It’s too bad, too, because the grove apparently contains trees over a thousand years old. We considered fording the river but decided against it and later we were glad because we read that the boardwalk within the grove itself was damaged and the entire area was filled with four feet of silt.

This Isn't So Bad

The Mountain Is Out Today

Mount Rainier is actually visible from Yakima, about 100 miles or so away. Oddly enough, though, there really isn’t another view of it until you’re right on top of it. At least not coming from Route 12 anyway.

We were a bit surprised at how quickly and suddenly we arrived at Mount Rainier National Park. A ranger at the entrance station suggested Ohanapecosh Campground, recommending it for its old-growth forest. Neither one of us has ever really spent any time in an old-growth forest. It’s just different. Peaceful. Spiritual. Our campsite is perhaps the most secluded one in the grounds.

The ranger offerings and hikes are much more plentiful than at Crater Lake. Of course, we arrived on the 25^th and the first ranger programs of the season were given on the 22^nd.

Apparently, it’s not all that uncommon for the peak of Mt. Rainier to be obscured by weather. We’ve been very fortunate thus far.

On to Yakima

Walla Walla: Sunday, Sunday? Closed, Closed.

Lello Flowers

En route from Seven Devils we crossed hills and mountains and emptied, rather startlingly, into agricultural plain. These are either mustard or canola. Can you help us out?

Our Ride

We’re driving in a gray Ford Focus hatchback. It’s not a bad car with the exception of the fact that our two large suitcases don’t both fit in the trunk lying flat, the dashboard has left its mark on Scott’s knees on more than one occasion, the armrest won’t fold up enough to stay out of our way. It’s got nice pickup, it handles the mountains no problem, we have no trouble passing the odd triple tandem trailer hauling hay, really, it drives great.

Problem is, it doesn’t seem to like us anymore. True, it may have reason. First, it’s a pig sty. We’re essentially living out of it and the attempts we make to clean it up really just serve to keep things barely under control. Second, we’re not exactly traveling on paved roads 100% of the time. OK, make that much of the time. Our campground at Seven Devils, for instance, while recently re-graded was still 17 mostly vertical miles from town on an increasingly narrow gravel road complete with sharp dropoffs and no guardrail. We ended up 7500 feet or so above sea level.

So we can understand that it has developed a horrible squeak most noticeable at slow speeds. It does seem a little rude, though, that the left front speaker has quit working. Maybe that’s just to make sure we know it’s squeaking.

Proof

Somewhere in the midst of the journey down the river a photographer had planted himself. For an undoubtedly outrageous price we can get pictures which show some and/or all of the following:

1. All of us having a great time

2) Scott about to fall backwards out of the raft

3) Alan's arm jackknifing Amy forward in an attempt to keep her in the raft.

(Scott would like it to be known he did not actually fall out of the raft. How, Amy has no idea. She was face down.)

To access the photos go to http://salmonriverphotos.com/rafts2007.html and select June 18 - 24, 2007.

Then click on S.R.E June 23.

Click on the second to last photo on page 2. From there you can click forward and backwards to individual photos. We're roughly photos number 34 through 50.

Amy’s Hat

(With apologies to Arlo Guthrie)

Now it all started about one year ago. At Glacier National Park we bought the ever-popular hat/shirt combination. The hat was supposed to go to one of us, the shirt to the other. The shirt was too small for Scott so it became Amy’s. Somehow, so did the hat. It was a navy blue, Anvil brand baseball cap with Glacier Bay, Montana printed just above the bill. It immediately became Amy’s primary hat.

This morning we arose with the idea of making the day a half internet, half rafting affair. That’d give us plenty of time to plan the rest of our trip, provided we got a good, reliable internet connection. On the way north along Highway 95 we kept stopping at libraries and cafes which weren’t open yet and didn’t have wi-fi signals into the parking lot. It soon became clear that an internet connection wasn’t going to happen for us. Finally, we hit Riggins, The Whitewater Capital of Idaho, the base for most of the companies whose rafting brochures we’d gotten the night before.

From their brochure, Salmon River Experience seemed like the company to start with. They put a lot of emphasis on the quality of their guides and we figured the guide would be a pretty important part of the trip so we’d want as good a one as we could get. SRE was the last place in town and we went up to the office a little after 11 with a bunch of questions: Do they take walk-ins? How much experience would we need? What time would the next half day trip leave?

Nobody was in the office but we heard voices from upstairs so we headed up towards what began to look like a residence. As we stopped uncertainly on the staircase, the front door opened and a smiling woman came out, followed by a man in a Hawaiian shirt. We recognized their faces from the brochure: Deb and Chuck. We asked about a half day trip. There wasn’t one scheduled to leave that day but we could see Chuck’s mind begin to work. “What time do you have?” he asked. “A little after 11.” “I’ve got a little after 10, we operate on Pacific time.” Their full day trip was due to launch soon. If we hurried, we could hop on that trip which would allow a) one of their guides, Frank, to lead a trip rather than come back to the shop, and b) one of their guests, Alan, to ride with us instead of on a potential party barge. We’re not so much into the drinking of beer. How about we take a full day trip, but he’ll charge us the half day rate since that’s what we’d come looking for? We’d need to leave now, we could settle up when we returned. “What time would we get back; we still don’t have a place to sleep tonight? Are there campgounds in the area?” “You’d be back around 5 and there are places not far from here.” Sold! With Deb shouting things like, “Got a hat?” and “Don’t forget sun block!” from the balcony, we hopped into Chuck’s Subaru Legacy for the trip to the raft launch. In the canyon, cell service and CB radio just don’t happen so the only way to reach the group about to launch was to catch up to them before they left. Chuck drove at what he seemed to consider an unsafe speed down a long, windy one-lane road following the Salmon River all the while regaling us with tales of local color. Morals of the stories: You can beat a man up, just don’t kick him in the ribs when he’s down and send him to the hospital. And we understand you don’t want to be taken in by just one deputy so we’ll send three out after you. It’s a pride thing.

As we approached the launch, an SRE van passed us going the opposite way. Chuck paused momentarily and tooted his horn, “I hope Frank wasn’t in there. Well, if he is, I’ll take you. Worst case, you end up with me.” No doubt it was just too beautiful a day for whatever office work he may have had in store for the afternoon.

Most of the group – which would eventually consist of four rafts and two inflatable kayaks, one operated by a pair of pre-adolescent boys – hadn’t left by the time we hit the launch. Chuck kept the Legacy running and hopped out of the car to explain the new plan. Within minutes, Amy had returned from the rest room and Scott had learned we’d be sharing a raft with a New Jersey-raised Swarthmore grad now living in Tucson, and our guide, Frank. Wallet and keys into the dry bag, sun block into the cooler, lifejackets on and fitted tight, ‘the solution to pollution is dilution’ (pee in the river if you need to), if you fall into the water use your paddle as an extension of your arm, yes the headrest on your life jacket will keep blowing into the back of your skull but it’ll hold your face out of the water if you happen to get knocked unconscious, if you have to pull someone into the raft grab them by the lifejacket rather than the arms, we were on the river before we had time to process everything.

Frank introduced himself as a recent graduate of Colorado State University in his first summer as an SRE guide. Turns out he was a civil engineering major who was interested in water resource and ecology and rationalized the guide job as good experience for his future.

We went through a couple of sets of good rapids and gorgeous scenery before stopping for lunch on a beautiful beach which would have been a thoroughly wonderful experience were it not for the stiff breeze which added a little sandy texture to some of our food. The wind was blowing a little harder than usual, making things tougher for Frank and a tad chillier than the thermometer would suggest. After lunch all three of us opted for splash jackets to keep us drier and warmer. Alan, it turns out, has been to a number of national parks in the area and after swapping stories about common experiences he gave us some valuable tips on a couple of the parks in Washington (we’re both really looking forward to North Cascades now, and expecting Mount Ranier to be closer to Crater Lake than Glacier), and we gave him some suggestions for his future travels as well.

As we approached the Time Zone rapids Scott – sitting in the front of the raft – got caught up watching the drama in front of him: the kayak containing the two boys flipped over. They turned it upright and one boy got back in but it flipped again before the other could join him. Eventually, they were rescued by the raft guided by Greg, the most experienced SRE hand on the river (who spent the rest of the trip giving LOUD instructions to the kayakers on how to navigate each set of upcoming rapids). In the midst of all of this, Scott dimly heard Amy exclaim in surprise and Frank say, “Sorry Amy”. After our raft had made it through the Time Zone, Scott turned around and saw that Amy wasn’t wearing her hat.

Remember Amy’s hat? This is a post about Amy’s hat.

“Where’s your hat?” “Uhh, you mean you missed all that?” “Missed what?” Amy’s navy blue, Anvil brand baseball cap with Glacier Bay, Montana printed just above the bill had been swept off by a sudden gust of wind and blown into the water. Frank had stopped steering the raft (which was approaching the rapids) and had used the oars to try to fish the hat out. At one point, he dropped the oars entirely and was fishing in the river with his hands. Alan was using his paddle as well. Evidently Frank came extremely close to grabbing it on more than occasion. But, alas, it had remained out of reach.

A few moments later, Frank – in a voice surprisingly devoid of surprise – said, “There’s your hat.” And, sure enough, about three feet beneath the surface of the river (and moving faster than our raft) was a navy blue, Anvil brand baseball cap with Glacier Bay, Montana printed just above the bill. Frank attempted to steer the raft alongside and he, Scott and Amy reached out with oars and paddles and implements of recovery to grab it but again it eluded all rescue attempts. By now, folks from the Group W party barge noticed our efforts and were filled in on the story of the loss of the navy blue, Anvil brand baseball cap with Glacier Bay, Montana printed just above the bill. With tears in her eyes, Amy gave up all hope of recovery, again.

Moments later, a cry arose from the other raft. They had spotted it! The chase was back on! Someone in the Group W raft was able to recover the navy blue, Anvil brand baseball cap with Glacier Bay, Montana printed just above the bill and it made its way back to Amy.

Triumphantly (and firmly) placed on Amy’s head, the hat survived the rest of the trip down the Salmon River and now has a story to tell all of its companions in our coat hall closet when we return to CT.

After all that excitement, we drove into town and had a steak dinner that couldn’t be beat.

Finding a Tent Site on a Busy Friday Night

The campground we’d selected for the night, Cascade Lake State Park, near the town of Cascade, seemed perfect. Well, sort of. Kinda scummy, actually. But maybe the one area set aside for tents would be nice, and it was on the other side of the lake. Numerous hair-raising turns on a rapidly increasing confusing series of roads later, Scott approached a nice family in a nice home, and got directions back out to the main route. At least we didn’t die in there. Once back on Highway 55 we said, hey, we’re north of where we were, it’s going to take us a long time to get our way back to the campsite, and it’s not all that nice anyway. Plus, there’s a campground 40 miles north with SHOWERS!!! Seemed like an excellent plan. Till we got there and they were full. Following some more odd directions, we finally found a site at the Ponderosa State Park North campground. Our $12.72 (tax. They add tax.) also got us showers at the main Ponderosa State Park way back in town.

One Day, Four Scenic Roads

Today’s travels daisy-chained four Scenic Byways together. First, we finished the Sawtooth Scenic Byway at Stanley. Once we turned south from Stanley, we were on the Ponderosa Pine Scenic Byway. Not a huge amount of ponderosa pine, but that may have been the beetle, or the Lowman Fire in the 1990s.

Once we hit Lowman we headed east on the Wildlife Canyon Scenic Byway. We didn’t see any animals, really, but it was lovely, along a deep gorge for much of the way, and past a former CCC camp.

At Banks we headed north on the Payette Scenic Byway, alongside fantastically rushing waters. Absolutely jaw dropping, but hard by a busy road. Kind of an unsettling combination.

Getting Clean the Hard Way

On our way to Stanley, we saw a sign for showers. Note for future: if a place offering showers has a for sale sign out front, just keep on driving. The coin operated shower gave you literally a few seconds per quarter. It took two quarters to get tepid. And then… it got ice cold. Fortunately, there was a sink right next to it with piping hot water (???) so we were able to get the soap off of our bodies. Stunning views here, but not worth it for the worst shower experience of our lives.

Distance and Perspective

An anonymous question about visibility and distance was posed in a comment a few days back. Perspective is hard to come by out here. Mountains are just in the background. Sometimes the maps are hard to read so we don’t know which mountains we’re looking at. We can drive a long time and they don’t appear to get much closer. We got lucky, though, when we pulled into the Galena Overlook, which had both an interpretive sign pointing out the various peaks on the Sawtooth Range and a USGS map of the area. Some extremely scientific measurements (thumb and forefinger) tell us these mountains are 15 miles away.

Finally, a Great Campsite

We headed over to the Sawtooth Scenic Byway and eventually pulled into the Sawtooth National Recreation Area and found Caribou Campground, a great little campsite far away from Route 75. No water, but we were just the 3^rd to occupy the 7 site grounds. Bedding down by the creek for the night is the highlight of the day. Especially after the last couple of nights.

Craters of the Moon National Monument

We had no idea what a lava bed would look like. As soon as we saw it, though, that’s exactly what it should look like. It’s sort of large areas of rock cinders from the size of a golf ball to large rocks.

The same hotspot that now exists under Yellowstone is thought to have formed the Craters of the Moon National Monument. (The shifting of the North American continent accounts for this.) This area, like Yellowstone, is also a dormant volcano and it is thought it will erupt again sometime in the next 900 years with the most likely period being within the next 100 years. Another ‘see it while you can, folks’!

(No word on whether the Apollo moon landing shots were faked here, or somewhere else.)

The Niagara Falls of the West

Shoshone Falls is gorgeous. A giant flood ripped down the Snake River about 15,000 years ago carving a gorge through the basalt rock. The Falls were said to have attracted settlers from miles around due to the roar of the water. Today it was pretty hot, though, and no shade of any magnitude made it tough to stick around too long. It’s a shame, really. Would have been a nice place for a picnic lunch.

Balanced Rock and Unbalanced Human

Balanced Rock. It looks pretty small from the parking lot, but that’s until you start hiking towards it.

Taking the Waters

Upon arriving at what was pitched as a resort in their marketing materials, we found we had the opportunity to swim in the “rejuvenating” hot springs. We could choose between the public pool ($9 each) or a private room for an additional $2. One look at the private room (scary, little prison cells) convinced us to save the surcharge. The hot springs (a big cement pool) has an exceedingly high woo factor. Most everyone in the public area was under 15 or over 65. Just as we were wondering which one of has had “Go ahead, charge us $9” stamped to our forehead, we were saved by a great chat with a fascinating woman. Lynn, who had 3 kids and was widowed by 25, married a man with 5 kids, then had two together. She now has 40 grandchildren and 15 great grands. They lived for 15 years, till he died, leasing 35,000 acres from the Bureau of Land Management. Their home was 12 miles off the nearest road (those 12 miles took 45 minutes to negotiate), but they had tons of visitors. She once went 17 days without preparing a meal for less than 30 people. Her husband testified before Congress about the amount of space needed to raise cattle. One Congressman, from New Jersey, didn’t believe him (in Jersey they had 15 cows per acre), so he invited him out and the Congressman took him up on the offer! They ran the poor man and his three companions into the ground – 13 hours in the saddle in one day. The Congressman later apologized in front of Congress for calling Lynn’s husband a liar. Learned a neat thing about cattle: a head of cattle is one mother cow, her offspring, and the bull it takes to service her. So their 400-head ranch could have easily had as many as 800 animals at one time. Interestingly, Lynn was a distant relative of one of the original six founders of Hartford, Merriam, of Merriam Webster Dictionary fame.

Foiled by the Idaho Visitor Centers

Our grand plan to map out our journey through Idaho was foiled when nobody was staffing the visitor center on Route 84. On the map of Boise was listed another visitor center so we tried there. Slightly more success, they pointed us to the library and had some vague suggestions about where we might see interesting sights. Amy attempted yet another visitor center in the heart of downtown and again came up empty.

At least we got to check out downtown Boise, a really cool place with a great library!

We made a plan to drive to Route 78 east through what the folks from the Boise visitor center said would be farm country, re-connect with 84 for a few miles and then take the Thousand Springs Scenic Byway through the towns of Buhl and Twin Falls and hop up Highway 93 to Shoshone Falls. It took a while to find the connecting road to get to Route 78 (nobody at the Fred Meyer in Nampa seemed to know the route numbers) and when we finally got there, it was mostly scrub and sagebrush rather than the lush fields we’d been hoping for.

It was getting late (after 6) when we got to the visitor center in Buhl but the sign on the door said “Open” even though the door was locked. We saw someone inside and knocked until we got her attention: we needed help finding a place to sleep. She turned out to be exactly what we’d hoped for when we first hit Idaho: friendly, knowledgeable and helpful. She called the “Miracle Hot Springs” RV park and campground to confirm they had a tent site for the night, and gave us directions to the Balanced Rock and Shoshone Falls, the “must do” area sights.

You’d Think the Official State Map of Oregon Would Tell Us

1) When you hit Malheur County (southeasternmost county in OR), you’re in Mountain time. Surprise! Nothing like trying to set your watch ahead an hour while barreling down a two-lane road at 60 MPH.

2) Oregon is a full-serve only state. The fourth time we stopped for gas (and the fourth time Scott was intercepted on his way to the pump) Amy the attendant told us it was a law. Should we tip?

Bully Creek Campground Tonight?

Sold!

Crater Lake to the Idaho Border (Almost)

Heading east, mostly, in this part of Oregon is different. There just aren’t a lot of roads. You can go 15 miles without running into an intersection. Not a single house to be seen. We’ve driven through a piney scrub, a marsh with wildlife viewing, and a couple of ranches. Almost no cars or intersections.

We stopped for gas at the thriving metropolis of Silver Lake. They have a restaurant and a one-room grocery store selling toys, clothes, pre-packaged deli meat and video rentals (among other things). And . . . a library! It wasn’t Monday, though, so the library was closed. We contributed $38 to the local economy and kept on moving.

We took a county road from there to Christmas Valley (Cell service! Two bars!) and then another 38 miles til a left turn put us on US Route 395 N. We took that 28 miles to Riley (not a town along the way), hung a right on Route 20 and stopped for a spell in Burns to provision up. On the way out of town, we swung by the visitor center and got a campsite and restaurant recommendation close to the Idaho border.

Bully Creek Campground is a grassy municipal park with some trees, located on the edge of a reservoir. Full electric and showers. $10 a night. Really warm tonight; the couple at R Big Burger American and Mexican Cuisine who shared their hot sauce with us said it might get as low as 55. We’re excited that we can sleep without the fly and maybe even open up all the windows on our tent and see some stars.

The reservoir in this area makes the land incredibly different from that on the way here. En route, there was a lot of sagebrush and Badlands-esque structures (often made of pumice). Very dry and little vegetation. Around here, though, the irrigation canals connecting the ranches allow for corn and even soybeans to be grown. Some places you look across the road from a farm and see sagebrush and scrub. People even water their lawns.

Why We Hate Xanterra

Q: What do you call a competent, conscientious and friendly Xanterra employee?

A: A bad hire.

Q: What do you call a clear, concise, easy to follow, customer-focused Xanterra policy?

A: A rough draft.

OK, OK, There’s a Little More to it . . .

Basically the lake was formed when Mt. Mazama collapsed 6,800 years ago after a series of violent volcanic eruptions. Subsequent eruptions created Wizard Island and sealed the bowl of the lake. Because of this seal, no streams enter or leave the lake. Snow and rain replenish what is lost to evaporation and seepage so the water level remains fairly constant. It’s around 6 miles long and, at 1,932 feet, it’s the deepest freshwater lake in the United States and the 7^th deepest in the world. It is this depth that creates the extraordinary blue you see in the water (blue light can travel further underwater than that of other colors along the spectrum.) All of this information was obtained from reading two or three signs posted around the rim. There was a distinct lack of ranger programs (evidently, everyone is still in training), and with the hordes of ravenous mosquitoes, the main reaction we had was “Woo.”

That’s not to say it isn’t beautiful. Because it is. But there really isn’t any reason to linger.

Plus, with all the snow still to be cleared, part of the rim drive (and much of the campground) was closed.

Crater Lake National Park

We thought Crater Lake would be a big blue lake surrounded by mountains. Turns out, we were right. Also turns out, that’s pretty much the end of the story.

On to Crater Lake

We decided to make a break for Crater Lake National Park rather than meander all the way down the coast as originally planned. En route, we passed through part of the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area. Sand. Lots of it. Next.

The drive to Crater Lake is really a two-piece affair. One leg is labeled scenic, the other is not. Hard to tell which was which, they were both jaw-dropping in spots. Entering the Crater Lake region brought our first glimpse of snow covered peaks. And then, snow on the sides of the road. Not terribly reassuring for those of who will be sleeping outdoors. One part of the Rim Drive is closed due to snow. When we finally made it to the only open campground in the Park, some of its loops were closed due to snow.

Xanterra is as competent as usual (we encountered them last year at Yellowstone), which always makes things more interesting than they need to be. The woman at the desk was completely unable to tell us which sites might be available. Then she gave us a hassle when we set up in a site designated for RVs because there were no tent sites left. But we got it all resolved.

Apparently, the mosquitoes hadn’t eaten in a while.

OK So We’re Tourists, Sue Us

Spotting a beautiful view of the waves and lighthouse, we pulled into the conveniently located turnout. An added (and entirely unexpected) bonus was a group of sea lions sunning themselves on a rock ledge some 300 feet below. Many pictures were taken.

Not coincidentally, just a few hundred yards down the road was the tourist trap Sea Lion Caves. Since we don’t get out this way all that often we figured what the hey. Eighteen bucks later we found ourselves in an elevator descending 200 feet into what is billed as either “the world’s largest sea cave” (from the lobby) or “one of the world’s largest sea caves” (from the display in the cave itself). (Side note: Immediately after forking over our $18, the guy behind us asked the cashier, “Are there many sea lions in the cave today?” Great question! Wish we’d thought of it. “Not really, they’re mostly outside this time of year.” Swell.) The cave itself is cool (in both senses of the word), dark, and a tad smelly. What was really neat was the ability to hear the sea lions. Photography in extreme low light conditions (no flash allowed) was a challenge but we did manage to get some decent video from our supercool camera.

Morning Stroll

We spent a very nice night at the Carl G. Washburne State Park. We don’t know who Carl G. Washburne was but he seems to have had a penchant for very hot showers and soft toilet tissue. Our kind of guy.

We took an early morning jaunt through a forest thickly carpeted with moss down to the beach. The beach the night before had a distinct Lawrence of Arabia feel to it as the wind positively whipped the sand across the ground. There was a louder than usual roar coming from the area of the ocean, the cause of which is of some disagreement between us (Amy maintains it’s the wind, Scott says it’s the waves). This morning, though, it was far less windy. The tide was about as far out as it gets, there were many beautiful breakers. The wind that was present, along with the cold, kept it from being a “wow, let’s sit a while and look at the beautiful water” type of beach – doubtless contributing to the vast expanse of empty – but it was nice nonetheless.

Bird Watcher Alert

Anyone have any idea what kind of bird this is? He visited our campsite both in the evening and morning. Hard to get a decent picture, though.

Route 101S

Billed as the Pacific Coast Scenic Byway and an All America Road, we had high hopes. We had planned numerous stops along the way at exciting sounding places like Cape Foulweather and Devil’s Punchbowl. Our planned stops have mostly been disappointing (Cape Foulweather was essentially a gift shop on an overlook) with little to no waves. Yet, enticingly, we keep getting momentary glimpses of enticing salt spray through the brief breaks in the tree line. Rarely has there been a place to stop for these, though.

We Went Two for Three on the Three Capes Scenic Loop

In Tillamook we picked up the Three Capes Scenic Loop Drive. Cape Meares proved interesting, with the three arches rocks off shore, the octopus tree, and wildlife volunteers with telescopes trained on nesting Cormorants and Common Murres. Then… we lost the loop somehow, and ended up back in Tillamook. We found the end of the loop some miles down Route 101, in time to check out Cape Kiwanda. Despite desperate searching for a non-existent sign to tell us why it is billed as Oregon’s most famous promontory (and, for that matter, what a promontory exactly was), we had to settle for walking the beautiful (albeit strewn with pickups), wide, white sand beach, and climbing a huge sand dune. Oh, there was a big rock in the water.

FYI

Not all Starbucks have internet access.

Mmmmm, Cheesy Goodness

Tillamook Cheese Factory did not disappoint. No, indeedy. The displays, the movie telling the history of how the farmers in the 1890s came together to build a ship to send their butter to Portland, and how they expanded that relationship to form the Tillamook brand was fascinating. The view of the factory floor where they make the cheese was amazing even though they don’t do any cheese making on the weekends. Topping it off was a cheese tasting followed by a great, Roadfood-recommended restaurant onsite, with perhaps one of the best breakfasts we’ve had.

The Northwestern Rainforest

Route 6 to Tillamook took us down windy roads, with signs reading “ROCKS”, “SLIDES”, and “ELK” every so often. The foliage was dense and close to the road, which cut along sharply rising (to the left) and falling (to the right) mountainside. Large ferns and moss covered white birch trees intermingled with wild celery. One right turn to explore a campground and we felt like we were back in El Yunque, the Puerto Rican rain forest we’d visited several years ago.

In Which Mr. Murphy Pays a Visit

“One of your flights has been cancelled” read the check-in screen at Bradley, “please see an agent for re-booking.” After only a nerve-wracking half hour, we got seats on a Frontier Airlines plane to Denver, where we’d have about an hour and 45 minutes before taking a US Airways codeshare flight “operated by United Airlines” to Portland, arriving 10 minutes earlier than our original flight.

We had lovely wait (hey, isn’t our flight due to leave … now?) in the holding pen for those “selected by the airline for additional screening.” After a few minutes of being ignored (will our plane leave without us?) our bags were thoroughly inspected, our two bottles of tap water confiscated, and we were on our way.

They say changing carriers is the worst thing for getting your luggage lost. They’re right!

Unsure of our next move (hey, the tent was in the checked luggage, and who knew where we’d be in a day or two), and going with the squeaky wheel concept, we opted for hanging outside the luggage place and checking in every 20 minutes. Finally, John McClaine (read his (fake) nametag, homage to Bruce Willis’s Die Hard character) reached Denver by phone. Short story long, our bags had been spotted after going unclaimed in Denver and rushed onto the next Frontier Airlines flight to Portland, arriving in Portland . . . nearly an hour ago.

Off to provision up at the local Albertson’s. Couldn’t find it. The teenager at the Jack in the Box said all of the Albertson’s in the area had “shut down”. Good of them to keep their website up to date. She directed us to a place called Fred Meyer, which turned out to be pretty close to a Super Wal*Mart, but more manageable and friendlier.

Arriving at the campsite just off Route 6 in Tillamook State Forest, we discovered that the directions for pitching our tent were keeping the nozzle for the air mattress pump company on our coffee table back home. A little McGyver work and we were good for the night.