kayaking – Page 7 – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

The Black Hills Work Their Magic

I guess I really didn’t know what to expect. I knew that the Hills were considered one of the most sacred places on earth to the Sioux tribes. I also know that the Black Hills are an extremely popular place for tourists to do all sorts of tourist things, with “attractions’ rivaling almost anyplace in the US. I know that there are those who think of Rushmore as a beautiful, patriotic monument to our country and it’s history, and others who are appalled by the whole idea of carving faces into a wild mountain. I can see both sides, but either way, I liked seeing Mt Rushmore and I like the story of its creation and its creator.

But this morning as we drove west from the Heartland RV Campground into the southern end of the Black Hills, it was only minutes before the landscape began to reach down and touch something deep. The part that made this place sacred to the Sioux had absolutely nothing to do with sculptures or attractions. Mo and I kept commenting on how incredibly green it was, after the dry prairies. Green and yet somehow open. We were traversing Highway 36, east of Custer State Park entrance, and the valley was broad and dotted with homes here and there, and little roads that wandered off seductively.

We had an agenda, however, and with only two days to explore this part of the country, there wasn’t time to follow the seductive roads and go hunting for ghost towns of a bygone era. Roger and Nancy and their dog Jackson were following Mo and Abby and I as we explored. It was impossible to fit 4 adults and two dogs into either of our cars for the day trip we had planned, but we had our trusty little handheld CB’s to keep us communicating.

The magic of the Black Hills I think is largely a result of its amazing geology. Rising from the plains like a green island oasis, these hills are formed from some of the oldest rock on earth, a batholith of slowly cooling magma created granite filled with crystals of rose quartz and mica. Eons later the dome was surrounded by huge inland seas that eventually turned to fossil filled limestone and allowed the formation of some of the longest known caves on the planet. The Miocene Era brought tropical conditions that created red shales and sandstones at the edge of the island. Within Custer State Park is Mt Harney, at more than 7,000 feet the highest peak between the Rockies and the Alps!

There are several roads to Mt Rushmore, but we chose to drive the Iron Mountain Road first toward Keystone and then after passing the monument, we would continue the loop to Sylvan Lake and back down to Highway 36 and home. The biggest surprise was actually how small it all seemed. I guess sometimes as westerners we are used to the vastness of our mountain ranges and deserts, and this island of rock and green didn’t seem nearly as big as I expected it to be.

The forest is mostly Ponderosa Pine, with some of the cooler areas filled with Black Hills spruce. With pine beetle ravaging the forest, the park is actively managing to try to reduce the damage and danger in addition to creating good conditions for the restoration of the hardwood forests that are being encroached on by the pine. Much as juniper encroaches on grasslands in the west, the pines take over the hardwood forests when there isn’t any natural thinning process allowed. Our relationship with the natural fire cycles in the western forests in changing, but it is hard to let fires burn every 20 years or so when they would destroy all those houses that we now have in the middle of the forest.

The Iron Mountain road is only a few miles long, but it is winding and twisty, steep, and punctuated with tight, low tunnels and curved bridges. It was an exciting drive, made more so by the sound of thunderous motorcycles all along the way. The Black Hills are famous for lots of reasons, and the big Sturgis Motorcycle Rally held the first week in August is definitely one of them. Of course, even with the rally another week away, the area is filled with bikers from all over the country, and probably from other countries as well.

We did know that the actual Mt Rushmore monument area was a huge concession charging $11.00 to park (no senior park pass honored) and see the walk of flags, to read about the carving of the faces, to see it all up a bit more closely. None of us really cared to do all that, and decided early that we would bypass the visitor center in favor of the great views through the tunnels and from high vantage points along the highway. I must say that as we passed the bumper to bumper backed up traffic trying to enter the parking lot we were incredibly glad that we had made that decision!

This morning, we had started our day with a big leisurely camping breakfast, and somehow didn’t think to pack a picnic for the rest of the day. Yeah, I know…what were we thinking?? We decided to try to find groceries in Keystone, but that was funny, and after driving through the Disneyesque town from one end to the other, we were relegated to a gas station food stop, where they told us the nearest groceries were 11 miles away. Picnic fare turned out to be a couple of apples, some orange juice, and string cheese, which was just fine. Mo and I were tired of eating anyway…seriously….the last week has been filled with way too much food!

After we threaded our way past all the cars trying to get into the monument visitor center, we continued west toward Horsethief Lake, thinking we might stop there for a doggie swim or a walk. The traffic was a bit daunting, and from what we could see from the road, that little lake wasn’t very inviting. Instead, we decided to continue on to Sylvan Lake. I recently re-read Sherry’s blog about their visit to this area last fall and decided that Sylvan Lake would be worth taking the kayaks down from the top of the car.

Again, once we actually arrived, I was surprised at how small it was. The traffic was tight, the parking lots almost full, but we managed to find a spot close to the water, and after a bit of waiting we even found an open picnic table under a shady tree. The sun was brilliant, the skies were perfectly blue, and the crowds didn’t seem to be much of a problem either, once we settled in. Taking turns by pairs in the kayaks worked out perfectly, and the four of us with our two dogs spent the rest of a beautiful afternoon enjoying one of the prettier places we have seen lately..

There were lots of kids swimming and climbing on rocks and sunning and diving into the cool water. The lake is surrounded by vertical granite pinnacles, and it seemed that no matter where you looked, there would be a kid or two silhouetted against the sky high on a rounded dome.

As the afternoon wore on, we decided it was time to make our way home and we loaded up the kayaks, the dogs, turned on the radios and continued southeast along the Needles Highway. In no time, we were once again on an incredibly narrow road and were going through even more narrow tunnels until suddenly we were at something called “The Eye of the Needle” and cars were parked in all directions and jammed up waiting for a turn to get through the smallest tunnel of all. Mo and I saw several mirrors almost scrape the walls of the tunnel on some of the bigger vehicles coming through. That thing is tiny!! We were really glad we were in small cars and even then I worried about the kayaks.

The Needles part of Custer State Park is fascinating and gorgeous, and there are even some turnouts where you could enjoy the views, but with all the traffic we weren’t too inclined to stop. Farther down the road we saw a Dall sheep, and then a lone buffalo who refused to even raise his head while folks crawled by snapping his photo. I would love to come to this place sometime when it wasn’t quite so full of cars and people because it really IS beautiful. But that is the part that was expected, the traffic and the people and the hot weather. After all, it IS late July in one of the most popular places in the west and of course I knew what to expect.

What I didn’t know is how truly lovely the granite spires would be or just how breathtaking the views and how fresh that dry pine air would smell. We ended the drive with a visit to the visitor center built by the CCC, one more marvel of amazing workmanship and stately beauty. The CCC employed 29,000 workers just from South Dakota and contributed more than 6 million dollars to the local economy. I’ll not get political here, but every single one of us here in the US benefits from the beautiful work of the CCC.

By the time we got back to camp, the skies were looking stormy and the winds were coming up enough to make opening the doors to our rigs a bit challenging. Roger grilled chicken and Nancy and I made a big salad and we convened at their roomy table for four to enjoy our dinner protected from the crazy winds. No time to enjoy the swimming pool tonight.

Tomorrow we will be off to a different part of Custer State Park, and instead of a lake day, it will be somewhat of a town day as we explore Custer and some of those “attractions” that I mentioned earlier.

Our little day trip loop around the hills was a short and curvy 75 miles of fun. A is Hermosa, B is Keystone, and C is Sylvan Lake

From the Heart

“It shifted from being written directly to my family and friends to something with more explanation and less from the heart, if you know what I mean. “ “paying too much attention to the reader community and not enough to my own preferences. “

Words this morning from a trusted friend brought me up short. I know the feeling, and I fight it sometimes. Case in point: my last post and this one. There is enough going on around here that I have some things to write about, some life to share, and yet I found myself liking the way the last post looked so much that I didn’t want to upstage it with a new one that wouldn’t have those photos of my pelicans. Now just how silly is THAT?! Mo said, “Well, why don’t you just put the pelicans up on the header photo?” Yeah, ok, I’ll do that, and yet the thoughts behind why I didn’t want to write a new post were still somewhat interesting to me. Sounds like I may be slipping into what this friend described in that last sentence I quoted in the first paragraph!

My Goal: write from the heart. Write about stuff, explain stuff, but keep the heart in it. Write as if I were writing to a trusted friend. Of course, some stuff I wouldn’t even write to a trusted friend so I won’t write that part in here. Those parts are saved for private journals that even my kids will never see. The good thing about this goal is that when I go back and read (and I DO go back and read my own blog), it will be entertaining and fun, and will help me remember not only what I saw and what I did, but how I felt about it. At least that is the goal.

Personal journals, on the other hand, can be incredibly depressing to read later. I journal a lot when I am angry, depressed, or just plain falling apart. Not fun reading. On another note, I don’t seem to have a lot of personal journaling going on now as I did when I was younger. Life is less full of angst and worry and frustration. I guess after 66 years, it is about time, right?

I think especially of this kind of “from the heart” writing when I think of Sherry’s story of David’s journey. I have mentioned them often enough that anyone who reads my blog has probably found theirs. Good news today with 8 million stem cells in his collection! Then, again from the heart, Laurie Brown’s eulogy to her Dad. Semi-True Tales of the Road has been one of those that stands out so far above so many of us that it is hard to see it wind down a bit. The only blog I read for years, I still always watch for a post from Laurie. Many folks mentioned her great campground reviews, but when I think of Laurie, I think of great food stories, seriously funny moments (aka Desert Hot Springs), and the clay oven.

Speaking of bloggers, last week brought us another blogger meet-and-greet treat, with Merikay and Craig visiting our world. They spent a long time hiking the trails of Crater Lake, many that Mo and I who live an hour away have never traveled. Then they camped a couple of nights right here in Rocky Point, giving us the chance to get Merikay and Craig out on Recreation Creek in the kayaks.

I love showing someone how much fun it is to get out on the water in a kayak and this was no exception. We had a perfect day with water smooth as glass for our morning adventure. Getting into a kayak for the first time can be a bit daunting, and once out on the water, it sometimes takes a few moments to get used to that wiggly feeling. Within a short time though, that feeling goes away and your body settles into the balance much like it happens on a bicycle. We had a nice, short paddle for their first run, and I do hope they will try it again. It is such a great way to get up close to the birds and feel a silence on the water that is hard to find any other way.

A little benefit of blog meet-and-greets are the photos! Loree has photos of Jeana on her blog since they met up as Loree traveled east, and we got a great photo of Loree on Jeana’s blog as well. Now isn’t that just fabulous?! Somehow the photos that others take of you are quite a bit different than the ones you might put up on your own blog.

Later that afternoon I invited Merikay and Craig to the house for supper, along with our closest neighbors, Wes and Gayle, our Tucson friends who live here in the summer. We had appetizers on the porch, dinner inside at the dining table, and dessert back on the porch, all accompanied by a few different wines supplied by each of us. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, especially since hostessing a meal is a favorite thing for me to do. I was having so much fun I forgot to take photos of the table, the food, and my guests. I guess that is a good sign.

Fourth of July was wonderful. I do love the Fourth, not for any particularly patriotic reason, but for its ability to bring up happy childhood memories and to create small town joys. As I spent the morning making potato salad and meltingly perfect chocolate cupcakes, I remembered my foster mother, who loved all holidays and taught me to appreciate them with huge church picnics, decorations for everything, and always always great holiday food.

With Melody and family in town, Mo and I drove in for the celebrations. Klamath Falls once again scheduled the holiday parade for 5 in the evening, ending in Veteran’s Park, where the fireworks were scheduled to go off at ten pm when it is finally dark here. It is much nicer to have a later parade and only have to drive to town once. When the parade was in the morning, it was harder to figure out what to do with ourselves while we waited for the fireworks twelve hours later.

This time, the parade was nice, but I still wish we could get more marching bands to come. There was only one. Parades need music! There were lots of red white and blue decorations, however, and the Shriner guys in their little cars always make a parade seem like the real thing. Of course, seeing my son in law and my grandson representing the Klamath County Sheriff’s department was a treat. Kevin is a reserve deputy, and Elric got a big kick out of being in the cop car in the parade. UhOh. Elric is now Xavier, but I keep forgetting. I have no clue why teenagers think they have to change their names, but I am trying to get with the program. Seems to me that Elric is enough of an interesting name, but n-ooo-ooo. He has to make it more interesting! He is 13. What can I say…

Hillary/Axel (remember that other name change I mentioned in the last post?) spent most of the time between the parade and the fireworks volunteering for the face painting booth. Terrible me, I can’t remember what the booth was promoting, but it was some sort of socially redeemable venture, I am sure. We had fun watching her and as the evening wore on, the line grew exponentially. Word was getting around that she was painting some fairly radical faces, unlike the typical butterflies and such. Well, with a name like Axel, who would expect butterflies anyway?

By the time the fireworks started, we were all starting to get fairly chilled, but the bugs weren’t out this year so that was a blessing. Why don’t I remember that even if it is 90 during the day, the air will require sweats, jackets and even gloves by ten pm. I hate to say it, but when the fireworks began we were pretty disappointed. It may have been because of the high winds that evening, but once again the big booms couldn’t seem to rise above the trees lining the lakeshore at Veteran’s Park.

It made for some interesting photos, especially with the full moon rising right where the big fireworks were exploding, but it also made for a few unhappy folks hanging around all evening waiting. Next year we may just give it up and go check out the fireworks at Lake of the Woods, closer to home for us, but not part of that small town Klamath thing that we love.

I guess the small town Klamath thing means there isn’t enough money for a big town fireworks show.

The Delights of Traveling Close

Something wonderful happens when summer finally arrives. The family is nearby, the porch is inviting, the kayaks are waiting, the flowers are blooming. Ahhh. It takes a long time for summer to actually show up in this part of Oregon, but when it does, it is worth the wait. While most of the country swelters and much of the west in on fire, here the mornings are still cool, the nights chilly enough for a comforter, and the daytime temperatures are in the mid 70’s. That is a Rocky Point summer.

My daughter was blessed with a three day weekend and if you remember how life is when you are all working full time, it takes a couple of days to catch up on chores at home. The three day weekend gave her a chance to play, and this time their version of play was a night at the Casa del Sol (our little cabin by the house), with burgers on the grill, marshmallows in the wood stove, and a morning on the water with mom. Somehow busy-ness gets in the way of recreation, and I have only had my grandkids out in the kayaks a few times. I love seeing the look on Hillary’s (who is changing her name to Axel but I still am not “there” yet) face when she gets on the water. She loves it. Melody kept exclaiming, “This is amazing, Mom, this is amazing!”. Grandson Elric chose to hang out at home in the cabin with dad and when Melody, Hillary, and I returned we were treated to a great late brunch cooked up by the son-in-law and grandson.

Good things do come to an end, and the kids headed back to town. Of course, for Mo and I it didn’t matter that it was Sunday night. Mo wandered off to a place we have wanted to camp for a few years and never remember. She called me and said, “Why don’t you meet me and Abby out here at Eagle Ridge, and maybe bring some supper?” Great plan again!

The last time we were at Eagle Ridge we still had the sailboat, and the winds were challenging as usual on these mountain lakes. Once again I remembered why we decided kayaking was easier than sailing! It is a lot easier to launch a kayak than a sailboat and even with all the paddling, it is a lot less work. Eagle Ridge is a Klamath county campground about half way between town and Rocky Point, maybe ten miles from home for us. There are a few primitive sites, no charge, no dump, no amenities except a great view of Shoalwater Bay, a launching dock, and sites right on the water.

The road to the park is about 4 miles of rough gravel and dirt, with not a few bumps, but the MoHo handled it just fine. No one else on the road to kick up gravel to worry about. Except for a couple of fishermen in the early evening, we had the place to ourselves.

Shoalwater Bay is on Klamath Lake proper, and the native algae that our lake has made famous was in evidence. Great kayaking, but probably not something to swim in. It is perfectly safe, but green. I think there is a Blue-Green algae company that is still making a good profit from Klamath Lake. I guess it is the reason our lake is so gorgeous and not surrounded by development. John C Fremont, back in 1857, said this lake wasn’t fit for a horse to drink. The algae is supported by all the natural phosphorus in the lake because of all the volcanic ash from Mt Mazama (Crater Lake) deposited several thousand years ago. The ambient phosphorus load is a big point of discussion about our lake, especially when trying to determine how much phosphorus is coming from the agricultural lands on the Sprague River which feeds the lake.

If you want to see incredibly clear blue water, just head up the hill to Crater Lake. Merikay and Craig are hiking there this week and have some really gorgeous photos of all that blue clarity. Notice, however, that all that clarity doesn’t do much for the water birds. On the other hand, here on Klamath Lake, water birds are everywhere. My favorite, and in my opinion the greatest of all, are the American white pelicans. They winter in Mexico and South America, but every year in March they return to Klamath Lake and the first pelican is the sign that spring is coming, much like the first crocus. They have a 9 foot wing span, and fly in formation much like fighter jets. I suppose it is my favorite part of kayaking around here, coming upon a raft of pelicans and watching them fly. I especially love the black wing tips that don’t show until they are airborne. I don’t often put in a slide show, but I do think this one is worth the band width. Check out the pelicans that we found on our paddle.

https://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf

We watched the sunset over the bay, and found enough old driftwood to built a nice campfire on the beach in front of the MoHo. I heard recently that Oregon is the only state in the west that doesn’t currently have any large active forest fires. Notice all that green grass and moist vegetation. Of course, it won’t be like that later in the summer, but for now having a campfire was delightful.

The night was silent except for the lake breezes and dark until the moon rose. Not a soul around, and just four miles from the highway. Nice.

Morning came slowly with Eagle Ridge directly east of us, and the dew was thick on the windows. We even had to turn on the furnace for a few minutes with morning tea as we watched the day lighten. Deciding that breakfast back home would be nice, we drove the few miles back to Rocky Point and cooked up a nice Sunday breakfast (even though it was Monday) watched the news, and got ready for our day, much refreshed and renewed by our little side trip.

The flowers are starting to bloom more and more, and I am enjoying the gardens now that the heavy labor of May cleanup has dissipated a bit. We had another load of juniper delivered, and it is piled high in the MoHo shed, so the big job of splitting and stacking has begun. July is about good weather and having fun, but it is also about getting in the firewood, spraying the deer repellant, and mowing the lawns.

We keep driving to Grants Pass, thinking that someday when we are “old”, we will settle over there out of the snow into a better growing season. I looked around last week at this beautiful place and said, “No”. Let’s just stay here till we have to go into a home somewhere. Worst case scenario, we have to pay someone to help now and then with the hard stuff. But every time I drive to town, or over the mountain to the “other side”, and then return I feel my breath quicken at the sight of that murky lake below in the sunlight. I am thrilled by the birds, the silence, the clear sunny skies, the forest. It is home. I guess that is why we have a motorhome after all, we can leave in the winter, we can travel if we want to, but we have home right here. I don’t want to give it up, even for a growing season that would let me have more flowers.

A parting thought here, one that came to me last week as we were traveling home from Oroville:

Sometimes, when riding in the MoHo, memories wash over me in waves. Maybe it is the vibration, maybe the changing scenery flying by. Somehow the complexity of my life flows by me like the trees rushing past, ephemeral, hard to catch, hard to track. I was once known for my phenomenal memory, spitting out dates like “Oh that was on a Tuesday in 1987”. Memories used to be like individual stories, with a beginning and an end, solid and real and separate. Lately, as life gets more and more full, and the memories begin to stack up, they are becoming more fluid, overlapping each other and flowing by in complex scenes, just as rich, but somehow with more flow. I wonder if that is what the old folks in the rocking chair on the porch are experiencing, that magical, colorful flow. I like it.

South to California

Hitch Itch. Full timers get it, folks with an RV parked in the shed get it too. The past couple of weeks have been focused on work and home chores, and we both knew we wanted to get in another local camping trip before we head for Colorado at the end of the month. Medicine Lake comes to mind first, a favorite high mountain destination, but we thought there might still be snow there this early. Then fate stepped in with an invitation to a retirement party in Davis, California for a colleague. We thought about it a bit and finally came up with a plan. Oroville!
There is a big lake there, nice campgrounds, my best friend and her husband are right there, and it is just a two hour drive to Davis so I could go to the party. Calling the State Recreation Area phone number for reservations, we were shocked to find that electric hookup sites (no sewer) at the Bidwell Canyon Campground cost $45.00, plus the reservation fee. Geez. California parks are too dang expensive. So I looked around a bit and came up with the KOA RV Park that is adjacent to the Feather Falls Casino and for $37.00 got a nice site with full hookups, free WiFi, cable TV and a heated swimming pool. Hmmm, not such a bad idea. We figured that we could go to the lake for kayaking without paying that crazy price.
Sunday morning we decided to drive to Grants Pass to check out another possible MoHo property and then travel south on I-5, a route we rarely travel between Medford and Weed. The day was gorgeous and cool, with a bit of cloud cover and the drive was perfect. I always smile when bloggers post the photos of amazing Mt Shasta, and decided that I didn’t need to stop once again to take one more picture of “the mountain”.
The trip was wonderful and as always it feels so freeing to be in the MoHo on the road. I said to Mo, “It isn’t just going somewhere that I love, it is the movement, the feeling of being on the road, the scenery sliding by, the skies ever changing”. I guess I like that hum and vibration somehow. Sounds completely silly to me when I write it, and yet I do know the feeling. Bet others do too.
When we arrived at the KOA we were pleasantly surprised, but not before a moment or two of confusion. You see, there are two casinos in Oroville, and I thought we were somehow going to the one that is on the road to Maryruth’s house. Instead, the GPS kept trying to send me south of town to a completely different area. Turns out we really DID have the reservation south of town and not on Maryruth’s road at the Gold Country Casino.
Once settled in, we discovered what I think is the best KOA we have ever seen. I often avoid these parks because they seem expensive and crowded. This one won a Presidents Award of some kind and I can see why. The sites were absolutely, perfectly level concrete pads, surrounded by large lawns, with a wide parking area along the road in front of your site for the toad. There were picnic tables and plenty of shade under our very own lovely oak tree. There were even two dump outlets on the site, one in front and one in back which we so appreciated. So many parks are set up for just 5th wheels and pickup trucks and the dump is completely out of reach of a motorhome.
The grounds were beautifully manicured, the swimming pool clean and heated, with an adjacent holding pen for your dog, the hot tub fresh and hot, and the clubhouse cool and roomy. The store and office had a great supply of anything you might need. With the KOA club card, which ended up paying for itself after all the freebies, got us 20 bucks in free casino money in addition to the 10 bucks we got with our site. We were also informed that a simple phone call would bring the casino shuttle right to our camp site on demand. Right to the site! Ha! The funniest part of this story is that in the four days we were in Oroville, we never managed to get up to the casino and our coupons went unused.
On Monday, we decided to explore the Thermolito Forebay area, a part of the huge Oroville Dam complex of water management systems. The forebay was a perfect place for kayaking since there are no motorized boats allowed. It’s really nice not to have to compete with jet skiis and bit boat wakes and noise. I really love the MotionX GPS app for my iPhone, mentioned by Rick recently, and have used it now for several kayak paddles. It is fun to see just how fast we have paddled, how many miles we have covered and where we have been on the map. It even links photos to the sites and then I can upload the track to Facebook or send it via email. Just tickles me no end. Of course, another quirk of GPS is the excellence of X and Y and the complete goofiness of the Z factor, elevation. We discovered to our surprise that on our nice little lake the elevation changed by 30 feet while we were out there. Too funny.
I have had a few questions from readers regarding how hard it is to get in and out of the kayak so I made a quick video of the process, just for laughs. I am still trying to figure out how to get the video to embed without any luck, so may just add the YouTube URL in case you want to see it. If I can do it, anyone can!

Maryruth and Gerald came out to our little shady campsite that evening and we all went up to the Feather Falls Brewery where we were able to use the other coupons that gave us a discount on food. After dinner when we thought about playing the slots we all thought better of it and just went back to the campsite instead. Tuesday was our day to visit at their home, to see all the beautiful garden work that Gerald has done, and enjoy some of Maryruth’s legendary cooking.
Often Oroville can be unbearably hot, and just the week before we were there the temperatures were in the triple digits. For us, instead, we had beautiful skies, not a speck of smog or haze, and temperatures in the mid to high 80’s. Couldn’t have been more perfect.
On Wednesday Maryruth took us out to her sister’s houseboat for an afternoon on the water with lots of good food and drink. The shuttle picks up passengers at the marina and takes you right to your boat, and even let us bring the dog. We settled in with sunscreen, comfy chairs, and good conversation with a view of the water all around us. Abby and I both even managed a good swim. Mo was a bit concerned about getting her back on the deck of the houseboat, but in nothing flat, with a little encouragement, Abby learned how to climb that ladder right back up on the boat.
Thursday morning we decided to explore some other areas for kayaking, including the Afterbay and the Diversion Pool. The big lake itself it fine for kayaking as well, but not nearly as interesting. The last time we were there we encountered a lot of wind and boats, and there is a large area of houseboats near the launch that require navigating through before you get to some more open water.
I left Mo in the shade of the oak tree mid morning to go meet my friends in Davis. There are so many people that I know from California, and it was so good to see everyone. Dean Burkett, who had a position in Chico like my position in Oroville had also come to detail and map for me while I was there and we developed a great friendship.
When I had my retirement party two years ago, Dean gave up a 22 year tradition of attending a rendezvous to come to my party instead. You can bet I wasn’t about to miss his retirement send off! I also got to spend quality time with the other two “Sue’s”. We are all a rather interesting phenomenon in California, all GS-12 managers, all in California, and all named Sue. In a career choice that at one time didn’t have many women, this is particularly funny. We called ourselves “the three Sues,” Sierra Sue (me), Coastal Sue in Arcata, and Valley Sue in Davis. Plus we all have kayaks! The three sues kayak trip is still in the works, but we keep talking about it. I still sometimes get emails meant for one of the other sue’s and they get mine. It IS a funny thing.
I stayed much to late and arrived back home to the KOA far too late for Mo and I to attempt to gamble away our coupons as originally planned. Instead we got a few hours sleep before taking off the next morning by 6:30 AM. After all, I had a quilt class in Merrill, at the Tater Patch and couldn’t miss it. It was the final class in a group of three that I have attended. We decided to leave early enough to take the back route home, via Highway 70 along the Feather River, north to Lake Almanor and Susanville, and then on to Merrill. It was a gorgeous drive over a road I haven’t seen for more than 40 years and I loved every minute of it.
We arrived in Merrill just a few minutes before my class started, unhooked the baby car so Mo could go on home, and I managed to finish the series without falling asleep at the machine. Let me tell you I was one tired puppy when I pulled into the driveway in Rocky Point that evening, glad to be home and completely satisfied with what turned out to be a really great week.
Next up: an amazing kayak on Shoalwater Bay and camping at Eagle Ridge just ten miles from home!

Over the Mountain

Isn’t that somehow a metaphor for life in general? One mountain after another to climb, sometimes in search of entertainment, or warmer weather, or cooler weather, or to find what isn’t on this side that may be on the other side, to cross summits that seem insurmountable, and then suddenly there we are, over the mountain. I’m old enough to remember that old song “The Bear Went Over the Mountain”, and I have been over many of them, both physically, spiritually, and metaphorically. It’s a climb, but the other side of the mountain usually has great treasures and rewards. I am thinking of Sherry and David as I write this, climbing their own huge mountain, right there in Florida where there are supposedly none to climb.

We went over the mountain last week, and even as lovely as the world is around Rocky Point, there was stuff on the other side that we wanted to experience. For once it wasn’t just a much needed trip to Costco that drew us over the pass. Not far west of Medford is the small historic town of Jacksonville, Oregon. Jacksonville stands completely on its own merits, with lots of cute little shops on the picturesque streets, and neighborhoods full of cute little Victorian cottages and Craftsman bungalows. If I chose to live on “the other side” I would choose Jacksonville, except of course everyone else has had the same idea, and I can’t possibly afford anything remotely near Jacksonville. Beside, Josephine County and Grants Pass have the lowest tax rates in Oregon, much less than Jackson County and the Medford/Jacksonville world. Someday we will move to the other side of the mountain for good, but in the mean time I appreciate every single minute of my mountain home. Snow, winter, mosquitoes and long treks to town notwithstanding.

In addition to its lovely setting, Jacksonville is home to the Britt Festival, this year celebrating 50 seasons of concerts under the stars. The shows run from June through early October every year and the lineups are often legendary. The music is eclectic with all sorts of genres represented and Mo and I try to see at least one show a year. Often we choose blankets on the grass where we follow the tradition of a picnic pack filled with wine, cheese, crackers, and grapes. This year we decided to see Melissa Etheridge, a crazy rocker lady I have always loved and Mo didn’t much care about. It was a great show and I had a great time and Mo even enjoyed Melissa’s incredible musical talent on the 12 string guitar and piano. The audience was mostly on their feet during the last 1/4 of the show.

Of course, Jacksonville is maybe 90 minutes away from home, but what better chance to spend a little time in the MoHo. We thought it would be a lot more fun to go home to the rig than drive over the mountain after wine and music so we planned a couple of days at Emigrant Lake just east of Ashland and not far from Jacksonville. Paul and Nina reviewed this great Jackson County Park a few weeks ago in April when the crowds were still nowhere to be found. When we thought of the idea, it was already too late to make a reservation so we decided to take our chances.

The week beforehand was a long and crazy one, with a full fledged field review in progress for my survey. I worked long days with Chris and the crew and then on Thursday Dave Smith, the regional leader in California (and my old boss) came up to visit with the Oregon crew. It’s probably too complicated to explain all this, but there is a huge reorganization going on and the Klamath Falls office is to become part of a completely different region, one headed by Dave in California instead of the leader in Portland. It is an administrative and technical nightmare coming up, supposedly put in place to save money, but no one has a clue how that will actually happen. All to begin on October 1.

But back to the trip to Britt. I had the review going so Mo had to do all the loading and hooking up and packing since I was gone long hours. Then, on Friday, I begged off the last day of the review because I had a quilt class…clear down at Tater Patch in Merrill (about 1/2 hour south of Klamath Falls). Now this is a really big deal because I had to prepay for the class months ago, before the review was scheduled and long before we had tickets for the Britt. No skipping this one! The class fills up right away and the waiting list is long. I had my three months of waiting and was really looking forward to it.

Confusion set in as we tried to figure out just how to manage being in three places at once. Finally settled on a scheme, and I drove the Tracker and kayaks to Klamath and then to Merrill early in the morning, and Mo left for Emigrant Lake with the MoHo and the animals early enough in the day to get a site. Or so we thought. When I finished my class at 4pm, a message from Mo said the park was full, it was in the high 90’s so boondocking with the animals was out of the question, and she was settling in to Pear Tree RV Resort along the interstate…with full hookups, lots of pavement, and freeway noise. Hmmm. The park served its purpose, but was so unexciting that I neglected to even take a single photo while we were there.

Now leaving Merrill at 4 meant I had just two hours to get to over the mountain to Ashland, find Mo and the RV park, change clothes, and then get to Britt by 7. Whew! It was one of those crazy kind of days that I remember from having teenagers who often had to be in two cities (Spokane and Coeur D Alene, and we lived in the middle) on the same day for different things. I am definitely out of practice for that kind of thing!

Somehow it all came together and we managed to be everywhere we needed to be when we had to. After the show we meandered along Old Stage Road right back to our little waiting home and I slept like a rock in spite of the freeway noise. The next morning we left the cat safely in the air conditioned MoHo and drove the few miles east to Emigrant Lake with the kayaks. Ahhhhhh……..

The lake is one that is easily visible from the interstate when driving from California into Ashland, and I have seen it for years and never actually driven down to look at it up close. In this part of the state, most of the lakes are reservoirs, but the water was still high enough that we didn’t have that ugly reservoir brown ring to look at. We found a free launch site at the southwestern edge of the lake, and while a bit muddy, the launch was simple. The lake was lovely, and that was actually a surprise to both of us. We had glassy water in the beginning, but a slight breeze came up, just enough to keep us cool and blow away any bugs.

We paddled along the southern grassy end of the lake and then north to the campground so well reviewed by Nina. On this day however, every site was full with most sites already reserved for the following weekend and some even for the weekdays. We left the kayaks at the beach and walked the campground, checking out the various sites and the views and decided that a weekday visit might be fun and would give us a chance to check out the eastern arm of the lake that we didn’t feel like doing this time.

By the time we got back to the rig it was mid afternoon and the temperatures were hitting the high 90’s. The park had a swimming pool, spa, club house and all sorts of other amenities, but the cool depths of the shady RV felt awfully good to us and we just settled in for naps and a movie and an easy supper. I didn’t even have any knitting or a computer with me and had to really relax. It is amazing to me just how relaxing it is to get away like this, as much as we enjoy our home and our space there, somehow cozying up in the MoHo is so different. No chores, no schedule, nothing at all that we have to do except kick back. ahhhhh……again.

sites at Emigrant Lake Campground We took our own sweet time getting back on the road Sunday morning, leaving the MoHo on the northern side of Medford while we ambled up to Grants Pass for another look at property. Still hoping for that perfect site to build an RV shed and store the MoHo in the winter. While we haven’t found anything yet to fit the bill perfectly, we have a ton of fun exploring all the nooks and crannies of the small southern Oregon town. By the time we got home on late Sunday afternoon we felt as though we had actually “been away”.

Another week of work for me ahead, with quilting homework in the evenings, a day-long quilt class on Friday, and then we will head south into California next week for another nice little camping trip at Lake Oroville with friends and fun and kayaks.

I wrote most of this post last Sunday, and it is already Thursday afternoon and this blog is still waiting for photos. I can hear Mo outside mowing while I am in here plunking around on the computer. Sometimes I just have to get away from numbers and spreadsheets and maps and data and refresh my brain with a little bit of memory making. So in go the photos and with the push of the “publish” button, up goes another memory.