kayaking – Page 10 – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

Day 1 July 6 Crossing Oregon

No matter what the destination, you have to cross familiar territory in the beginning. It was that way for us this morning as we completed the final check of all the lists, hooked up the Tracker, and drove down Easy Street toward Alaska. The morning was incredibly brilliant, clear blue skies reflected on the still surface of the wildlife refuge bordering Rocky Point Road. The temperature read a balmy 62*, the warmest morning yet since some time last year.

Making notes, writing down the mileage, plugging in the details to my favorite little iPhone app that we use to keep track of our trip expenses, I barely had time to get settled before the freezer door flew open food started sliding out onto the floor. UhOh. Our clip on the freezer latch broke off some time last year, but the suction usually keeps it tightly closed. With the cost of food in Alaska, I had that baby crammed full, too full. After some rearranging the latch held tight again. Guess we will have to replace that one. A couple of years ago we had to replace the one on the refrigerator door as well. Cheap little plastic thingys, that sure don’t seem to hold up well considering the cost and quality of the big Dometic fridge.

We stopped as usual at one of our favorite little diners for the traditional departure breakfast at the Diamond Lake junction. I have written about this one before, the huge Bigfoot breakfast that we share, and then have enough leftovers to share again. The road was easy, the pavement smooth, the route so familiar, but I enjoyed every minute of the driving time. Mo, on the other hand, wasn’t sure that she liked being the passenger with Jeremy thinking that he needed to get on her lap, claws and all, and she was wearing shorts. Silly driving things that make the trip fun and familiar. We are used to our routines, as are our animals. I guess that is why we love to travel so much. We travel well together, and enjoy the changing pace and getting outside the lovely simple box of our everyday life.

Once beyond Madras, the high plateau of central Oregon becomes dry and barren. This is the southern edge of the Columbia Basalt Plateau, and the soils are thin, some as little as 4 inches over the hard rock, and the precipitation is low. I don’t know why, but this part of Oregon seems more desolate and barren to me than even the dry deserts of Arizona, or the open sage land of eastern Oregon.

In the midst of this barren landscape is the small pioneer town of Shaniko. We decided with the temperatures climbing into the 90’s, it might be time for a Shaniko ice cream cone. Mo waited in the cool rig while I walked around the tiny town taking some photos before I bought of couple of chocolate cones from some very sweet ladies in the well known tourist stop. Perfect lunch.

It wasn’t long before we dropped down the long canyon to Biggs and the Columbia River. The thermometer read 101 when we hit I-84. Another glitch: what in the heck was that awful smell?? With the heat, it seemed to get worse and worse, and we couldn’t identify it. I panicked thinking that maybe the new batteries were heating up, but Mo was pretty sure we had something dead in the guts of the rig somewhere and the heat was making it worse. Ah yes, rigs and mice. That seems to be a fairly common topic among RV’rs. Opening the Fantastic fan and putting it on high seemed to help a bit, and while the smell still isn’t gone, it seems to be getting better. Yeah, that mouse will eventually dry out completely. Ugh. The mouse traps are still set and nothing is in them.

The temperatures were way too high to think about boondocking as planned, we definitely needed the air conditioner. Instead we traveled east toward LePage Park, the COE campground where we often overnight on our way through this area. Without reservations we still got a great spot with a view of the John Day River for only ten bucks with our Golden Age Pass, including electric and water. Perfect and it was only 4:30 or so.

Within ten minutes we were settled in and Abby was in the water for a swim. We decided there was plenty of time for an evening kayak and within a few more minutes we were at the launch site with the kayaks in the water. The winds were up a bit, but we decided that with the winds going upstream we could manage the current coming down. The mighty Columbia River was under the interstate bridge to our left and the John Day River to our right. We paddled upriver with the wind for a time until the waves and wind got too big to manage before we turned around and with the wind and the current, we had some nice quiet time in the doldrums, not moving at all while we relaxed on the river.

Suddenly we saw a fire flare up on the opposite bank, and I pulled the phone out of the dry bag to call 911. Cell reception on the river was great, and 911 answered immediately. They were unconcerned, saying that the fire had been burning for a couple of days and they were letting it go. OK. Fire in the west, on the grasslands along the river is probably a good thing, a natural cleansing of the land. Camped safely on the other side of the river with winds blowing away from us, no one seemed to troubled.

We paddled back downriver toward the bridges and went far enough to technically say that we paddled in the Columbia before we headed back inland. The Columbia is a big, strong, powerful river, and neither one of us wanted to tackle it on a hot afternoon with the famous high winds blowing hard.

Back in camp we got out the new Weber Q100, to try it out with a couple of pork chops and a beer. By the time we settled in to sleep, the evening breezes were strong and cool enough to make sleeping just right.

The end of the beginning, our first day out. Perfect.

A link to the rest of the photos at Picasa is here.

Tomorrow: A short drive to Toppenish

Baptism in the Winchuck River

(The rest of the photos for this day are HERE on my SmugMug site)

As I mentioned previously, Brookings is in a sort of “Banana Belt”. Most of the Oregon Coast is chilly and windy much of the year. There are often beautiful days with sunny skies in the fall, and sometimes when it is least expected. Those clear warm fog free days happen more often in Brookings than farther north, and even more than in Crescent City to the south in California. The rainfall here is around 74 inches a year, with precipitation falling on 150 days. I am comparing notes and paying attention because while we were at Fred Meyer the other day, Mo just happened to throw out the thought that Brookings might be a nice place to live.

The original plan when Mo built her house was to live there ten years or so and then move on to something smaller and more manageable, perhaps a condo in a place where there was no winter snow. She chose Brookings once, and having lived on the California coast for more than 25 years, the chilly fogs don’t bother her in the least. I, on the other hand, am a sun worshiper. I need light and warmth. I often think I could live in Florida. I love green and flowers and plants. Brookings right now is filled with green and flowers, and it looks terribly tempting.

Thank goodness a decision isn’t imminent. Mo has lived in the big house at Rocky Point for almost nine years now, and the “ten years” has evolved. So many things to love about Rocky Point, and Mo’s home is lovely, with her assistance throughout the building process, it is a very personal space. The large beam in the living room and much of the woodwork came from huge Douglas firs milled right there on the property. So now the plan is 2020. Instead of a certain number of years, we picked a date. Arbitrary to be sure, but in our 80’s, the thought of shoveling snow isn’t a good one. So, again, somewhere in Southern Oregon, but it could be just about anywhere. It’s kind of exciting to have this change out there in the future, something fun to think about and now I look at Brookings in a completely different way.

Yesterday was one of those gorgeous, sunny days, with temperatures climbing into the 60’s. We hiked a couple of the trails in the park, first to the Harris Butte, and then again down to the beach in the early morning sunshine. It was a perfect day for our plan to get the kayaks in the water. We have a copy of the “Canoe and Kayak Guide” for Oregon South Coast, covering the sloughs and rivers from Newport to the California border. Our choice for yesterday was the Winchuck River, a smaller river near the southern border with an outlet to the ocean. The guide warned of low water, but this time of year we thought things would be in good shape. The suggestion was to launch before high tide, paddle upriver till the tide shift, and then follow the tide back to the launch site near the ocean.

The launch was lovely, on a sandy beach with shallow water that deepened quickly. We paddled upstream under the Highway 101 bridge and followed the river along the farmlands and river homes along the way. Even this close to the ocean, the water was really shallow, with some gravel bars and areas that were less than 4 inches deep. We managed to get through it without grounding, a good test of the new kayaks, but then as we reached some very shallow riffles the current got very strong as the river made what looked like a gentle drop.

I think we paddled for a good 20 minutes, going absolutely nowhere, before we decided to get out and portage the riffles along the rocky beach. We thought if we could get around the riffles, we could continue upriver a bit more. I held Mo’s boat in the strong current while she got back in with Abby, and then attempted to launch into the current myself. I thought of my friend Jeanne, a whitewater kayaker who launches her tiny shoe kayak off rocks and over waterfalls. I, on the other hand, couldn’t manage getting into my boat in a simple fast current. I must have hit the current sideways, or still wasn’t balanced in the middle, and over I went into the very cold water. Even though it was only a couple of feet deep, the current was incredibly strong, and it took every bit of strength I had to hold on to my boat and paddle to keep it from going downriver. Our cockpits are large, open things, and even if we had skirts on, these aren’t the kind of kayaks that you roll over and back up in deep water. Instead, my cockpit filled with water, and my boat banged on the rocky bottom until I could get it hauled up on shore and dump all the water out.

I’m glad it wasn’t terribly cold out, with sunny skies, and I again remembered some kayaking advice, “Dress for the water, not the weather”. Of course, I probably won’t ever do that, since a wet suit seems to be a huge pain in the neck, and I like easy fun comfortable kayaking. It definitely taught me another lesson, though. I saw just how easy it is to roll over in a kayak. In all our years of boating, this has never happened to me, and I get cocky and sometimes don’t wear my lifejacket. I had it on yesterday, since I usually do wear it in unknown water, but now I will wear it all the time, even in gentle Recreation Creek. Good lesson. I didn’t need it yesterday, but I could have.

Amazingly, I had the camera around my neck and inside the jacket and it didn’t get wet. The water and 2 bottles of beer were safely stashed inside the closed hull with wallets in a dry bag so all was well. Once back in the boat, we decided it might be time to go back downstream. Paddling up, I don’t think we really realized how strong the current actually was. In no time at all we were back at the launch site, floating easily and quickly by all those cute little river houses out to the sea.

We also read about the danger zone where a river meets the sea, and now instead of heading into the waves to play, we stayed back cautiously. Again I think of Jeanne, who reads my blog faithfully, who will probably laugh at my caution. Jeanne climbs mountains in Nepal, jumps off waterfalls in Costa Rica and skis down back country cliffs in wild British Columbia. I love watching her adventures, but I have no plans to ever try any of those things. In fact, yesterday looking at the surf, I wondered out loud how people manage to take kayaks out there. I think true sea kayaks are more nimble creatures than our comfortable, big cockpit, wide, stable boats. Maybe someday I’ll go take a surf lesson on a warm day with an instructor. Maybe.

We saw no sign of the recent tsunami damage at Brookings Harbor

We didn’t get back to camp till 4 or so, and after a very late lunch of egg salad, we both fell into a weary nap. The evening was long and warm, and a bit later Mo built a great campfire that we enjoyed long into the dark night. There wasn’t a bit of wind and the fire felt wonderful. It is nice that in this state park, campfires are allowed, but don’t plan to bring any firewood from any other area. It’s called “Burn it Where You Buy It”, and is important to keep beetles and other pests from traveling from one place to another. The California check station now asks specifically if you are carrying firewood as well as certain kinds of produce.

Kayaks on our lake at last

The weather has been so changeable lately, but the change that hasn’t yet happened is warm sunny days. Often we have our kayaks in the water as early as March, but this year has been long and cold. We even hauled the new boats to California in February, hoping for some good estuary kayaking, but it was not to be. The boats got lots of miles on top the Tracker, but not a single dip into the water thanks to high winds and low tides.

In the midst of soaking rains and occasional snow flurries, we had a day of brilliant sunshine, with temps maxing out at 50 F. At first I thought about trying to get out on the water around 11, good time for a lunch break from the home office for me, but a short step outside indicated that 40 degrees and a 10 mph wind wasn’t exactly conducive to being on the water. I finished my day of work, and by 4pm, while the sun was fading into the clouds of a coming storm, the winds had died to practically nothing.

Home for us is just south of Rocky Point in the forest.

For the first time since we got our new kayaks, we loaded them up in my truck and drove the long 1/4 mile to the boat launch at Rocky Point Resort just down the road. When we got the new boats, we also bought new lightweight Werner paddles, and during the first few minutes on the water, they took a bit of getting used to. It felt like there was nothing to hold onto as I paddled, but after a couple of hours out on the water, it was wonderful. The new Swift Adirondacks are a foot longer and maybe a couple of inches wider than our old Perception Acadias, but they are 15 pounds lighter. We did manage to launch them last fall right after they arrived, but this was the first launch on our home territory, and my first launch of the replacement boat delivered by Swift in January. I wrote about why I needed a replacement boat back here in November.

Ahhh. I can’t explain that feeling of gliding silently, and rhythmically along still water, surrounded by mountains only accompanied by the water birds. The sandhill cranes are hollering in the marsh along with blue herons. The Canada geese are everywhere, and many types of ducks. My little camera isn’t so great at the long bird shots, and as I slid along yesterday, I really looked forward to my coming ‘DSLR with a telephoto’ days. We spotted an eagle not far from shore, and some ospreys were fishing for their evening meal.

This time, instead of traveling north along Recreation Creek to the springs, we took a southern route into Pelican Bay along the western edge of Upper Klamath Lake. It has been a great water year, and the lake is higher than I have seen it in many years. We kayak here often, but everything looked completely different with the high water. The snow on Mt McLaughlin was thick and deep, and looking up, I remembered the hot August day that Mo and I hiked to the top of that mountain.

Even though McLaughlin is only 9450 feet tall, it stands majestically above the surrounding Cascade Mountains and is visible from Medford, from Klamath Falls, and even from California along Highway 97 north of Weed. It’s the remnant of an old volcano, glaciated to it’s current shape, and most of the time, has a snow-capped summit.

Back in 2003, Mo and I had only known each other a few months when we decided it was time to climb that mountain. My sister just laughed out loud when I asked her to join us. “I’m not crazy enough to even THINK about trying to climb that mountain”. That summer Mo and I were of course just young things, of course, and we were up for anything. At 63 years old, Mo was younger than I am now! It was a long day, and a gorgeous climb. Many people say they have climbed McLaughlin, but often they only go to the last landing before the steep rocky summit to the peak. From the landing, there is no trail, only huge boulders with faint arrows painted here and there. The forest service tries to remove those arrows since McLaughlin is in the Sky Lakes Wilderness Area, and they don’t help much anyway.

It was a daunting climb, and about 200 feet from the top, I got sick and weak, and gave out. Mo climbed on ahead of me to the peak while I tried to recuperate. A couple of climbers came along, one of them saying, “You should go down now, because you will only get sicker if you go higher and altitude sickness lasts for hours”. Another one said, “You should go to the top, because you will hate yourself if you don’t”, and gave me some Gatorade. I decided that I was going to do it, no matter what, and just about that time Mo returned from the summit and said, “Sure, I’ll go up with you.” You gotta remember, Mo is almost 6 years older than me, and even though I worked outdoors in the field for most of my career, she was a PE teacher, so often is in the lead on these kinds of excursions!

So we hiked over the huge, room sized boulders to the summit, where I crawled out across the dizzying space to sit with Mo for our summit photo. The 360 degree view was amazing in all directions. The mountain is visible from the road very near our house, and often we look up at the sharp summit and say, “Gee, I’m glad we did that and don’t have to do it again.” It took us 12 hours round trip, and our knees didn’t much like the down part on the return trip.

Yesterday as we kayaked across the bay with McLaughlin towering over the landscape, we thought again, “Gee, I’m glad we already did that!”

The Sonoma Coast and the Russian River

We wakened to a bit of fog this morning, but the rain had stopped and by 9 most of the fog was gone as well. Once again the weather was with us. Today we planned to kayak the Russian River, starting at Jenner on the ocean and paddling upstream with the tide until noon or so before turning with the tide and going back down to the ocean.

The route to Jenner along Highway 118 follows the river and passes the eclectic town of Guerneville along the way. The road is narrow and thick with trees, so dark that the street lights were still on at ten in the morning. We didn’t stop at Guerneville, in spite of the cute little shops there, the river was calling. Once at the launch site at the Sonoma Coast State Information Center our plans came to a screeching halt. The wind coming upriver from the ocean was cold and stiff, and I really didn’t want to spend my day cold and stiff as well.

Instead, we drove on north through Jenner, toward Fort Ross, a Russian settlement with an amazing history, and the magnificent views of the ocean along this part of Highway 1. The skies were clear and the ocean was gorgeous. We stopped for a hot cappuccino and a decadent muffin at the Timber Cove Lodge overlooking the bluffs. At Salt Point State Park we walked the trails out to the surf with Abby. Continuing north we checked out the state park campgrounds along the way. They were completely empty, and no wonder since there are no amenities except wild ocean, and the charge is a flat 35 dollars per night. Gerstle Cove campground was beautiful, with sites that were level enough to be manageable, but we would have to really want a view of the ocean to maneuver Highway 1 for all those miles to end up with something close to boondocking for 35 bucks. I don’t remember State Park fees in California being this high before. Maybe they have raised the rates to help out the bankrupt state, but if no one is in them, it isn’t going to help much. More photos of the Sonoma Coast are linked here.

When we got back to Jenner and the Russian River, the skies were still clear, and once inland at the Highway 1 bridge south, the winds seemed much calmer. We took the old dirt road on the south side of the river leading to Willow Creek State Park, closed to camping, but with a path leading to a wide rocky beach perfect for a river launch.

By the time we got on the river it was nearly 3, but that gave us enough time to paddle upriver about 2 miles before we turned back. The high tide was supposed to max out at 12:00 or so today, but it seems that sometimes the river mouth closes off and slows the outgoing tide. Paddling upstream was effortless, with calm still water and very little wind. Again, we saw cormorants and several kinds of ducks, and I watched a great egret fishing intently along a gravel bar.

The reflections of the surrounding hills on the silky water were mesmerizing. It turned out to be a perfect day of ocean and river and we got to do it all. More photos of the Russian River are linked here.

Traveling from Fort Bragg to the Russian River

When we left Fort Bragg yesterday, it was raining hard. Our route followed Highway 1 along the coast for several miles before we turned inland at the Navarre River on Highway 128. Gasoline was just 2.99 a gallon on the south end of Fort Bragg, so we put another 75 in the MoHo and hooked up the baby car right there in the gas station. We are both amazed at how quickly we can hook up that car. The Stow Master hitch works great if we hit it every now and then with a bit of silicone. I can just slide it onto the ball without any effort at all.

I checked our route on Google Maps, on the iPhone, and with Garmin Girl, all set for the fastest, not the shortest route. I didn’t say anything about avoiding highways. All three of them sent us over 128, but not a single one gave us a clue what we were in for. The first part of the road was narrow, following the Navarre River through huge old redwood forests, damp and dark in the misty rain. After a few miles we emerged into the Anderson Valley, and official wine country. Picturesque small towns dotted the landscape every few miles and even in the rain the vineyards were beautiful in their fall colors.

Once we began ascending the mountains of the coast range however, the road got more and more narrow, and more winding even than Highway 1 was a few days ago. The last five miles before we reached 101 were probably the most harrowing so far on this trip. Mo handled it with aplomb, I wore my wristbands, and Jeremy only got sick once.

If we had known the route was this bad, we would have taken the more direct route straight south on Highway 1 along the coastline all the way to Jenner. Ah well, neither of us had been on this route before, so it was ok. Of course, Garmin Girl was still programmed for “shortest route”, so she took us along the even rougher “Westside Road” to get us into Forestville rather than going farther south on 101 and taking a major road back west. By the time we got to the campground in the dark pouring rain, Mo’s opinion of Garmin Girl was diminishing.

This trip was an opportunity for us to check out as many Camp Club USA parks as possible, and we only came this far south to try out this park. The web site looks great, but if you look at Street View on Google, it’s another story entirely. When we arrived at the River Bend RV Resort, the office was closed (it was barely 2 in the afternoon) and there were some very vague instructions about “finding a site”. We had a reservation, and had no clue where to go because the park is very tight, convoluted, and completely full of old trailers, rv’s, campers, all surrounded by old cars and trucks.

While I stood around looking helpless, the owner showed up saying, “Oh, I was just making a map for you”. He charged me the half price fee of 24 bucks a day, and then said, “Wi-Fi is free for one hour a day, otherwise there is a 6.00 charge” . What?? It didn’t say THAT on the internet. He proceeded to give me a huge spiel about the high cost of real estate in Sonoma County and how he didn’t let anyone else stay in his park for a measly 24.00, and didn’t I realize that there were 150 wineries within a fifteen minute drive and he wasn’t about to pay for free Wi-Fi for people who just abused it by downloading movies. Hmmm. It was also interesting reading the “rules”. My favorite was the one warning about going in the river intoxicated, and another one referred to no loud partying after 10PM. Interesting clientele, I think.

Our site was right on the river, a bit away from all the permanent residents, so that was a relief. I think we are the only people in the park who aren’t permanent. I decided to do some laundry, going back and forth in the rain, dealing with the dryers that quit when the power went out from all the rain, but of course the timers didn’t quit and I lost 4 bucks. Froggi Donna, another blogger, asked recently what we love and what we hate about RV’ing and last night I through that what I dislike most is the dang laundry thing.

I decided to read the “101 Things to Do Sonoma” for some ideas about the area. Unlike the Mendocino publication which was full of great information, this one had page after page of wineries and restaurants. I guess if you are in Sonoma, you are supposed to go wine tasting and then eat. Ha. Mo and I both love wine, but the wine tasting thing sometimes just seems way too expensive and pretentious for either of us. I’d rather go kayaking and buy my wine at Trader Joe’s or Costco. Maybe a nice wine tour would be a fun thing to do another time, but not this time.

We settled in after supper and listened to the hard rain, drowning out most of the heavy traffic noise from the highway nearby.