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Before I begin writing on this very warm late June afternoon about our recent camping trip, I want to share a few things that make me happy.  Sometimes it is easy to slip into negativity about this or that, about the state of the world or the state of my health, or simply the fact that I will be 80 in a very short time.  But then, even without trying, “grateful” will kick in.  

Can you find the kitty? I’m grateful for our neighbor’s kitty, who seems to like spending the night in our yard, ensuring our resident gophers don’t take over the pasture.

I decided to keep track of those grateful moments that come unbidden, another little thing for which I am truly grateful.  Does anyone remember the popularity of the old “Gratitude Journals,” which were part of the New Age Movement back in the 80’s?  I kept one for years, and found it recently in an old drawer of journals that escaped the fiery purge I did a few years ago when I decided my kids didn’t need to see all my neuroses from my youth.  The journal is wonderful and a delight to read.

I am grateful to the young woman who carefully dusts all the ceiling fans every two weeks

Incredibly grateful that the same young woman cleans the floors and the rest of the house so nicely, and that at this stage of my life, we can afford to buy a bit of help.

Speaking of floors, I am so grateful for the luscious silkiness of the finish on our oak floors every time I walk on them barefoot, which is often, because we are a shoeless home.

Sometimes, standing in the kitchen in the evening after supper and wiping the counters, I am so grateful for the cool smoothness of the granite (actually gneiss) counters that we chose so carefully more than 8 years ago. For the teapot from my sister, the knives I bought one by one for the new house, and the beautiful antique tiles that Mo packed around for years before they found a home in our kitchen.

Beyond grateful that there are the resources to build a new fence when we decided that the trees recently removed between our house and the neighbors left us just a little bit too open.

But now it is time to focus on the real reason for this blog.  Another trip in the MoHo to another favorite lake.

Mo and I have loved East Lake ever since we first camped there back in September of 2008.  At that time, Mo’s brother and wife Nancy lived in La Pine, Oregon, just down the hill from the Newberry Crater, where the lake is located at the bottom of the Newberry Caldera.

An especially sweet memory of our trip to East Lake in 2008 since Roger is no longer with us

Mo and I have returned to East Lake a few times since then, and every single time we have loved the campground and the lake. The lake is one of the twin lakes that occupy part of the Newberry Crater (caldera) in Central Oregon. It is located in the Deschutes National Forest east of the city of La Pine. The caldera was formed over 500,000 years ago from volcanic eruptions. East Lake’s water comes from snow melt, rainfall, and hot springs only. The average depth is 67 feet, 180 feet at the deepest point, and it covers about 1,044 acres. 

East Lake has two main camping grounds along the lake shore as well as East Lake Resort. The resort has cabins and boats for rent, in addition to a general store. Mo and I have explored Paulina Lake and the other campgrounds in the area and have decided that East Lake Campground is our favorite.

Trout were first stocked in the lake in 1912. The lake offers fishing for brown trout, rainbow trout., Kokanee, and Atlantic Salmon. East Lake is one of the finest and most traditional fisheries in Oregon, regularly producing brown trout over 10 pounds. The lake record for brown trout is 22.5 pounds.

Notes from my journal on the day we arrived:

 “We just arrived at East Lake about 20 minutes ago. It started snowing between the six-mile and the 12-mile snow park once we passed the unmanned entry gate. The snow was coming down rather in earnest, but it was still mixed with rain. And right now, as we look out over the fog-shrouded lake, it is either raining or snowing, I am not sure which.”

In spite of the weather, we were content.  We had charged batteries, plenty of food, our site was perfectly level, and the propane furnace was going strong, keeping us toasty.,

When we first pulled in, we didn’t unhook the baby car, and simply pulled right into our spot. As luck would have it, there was a sharp angle between the MoHo and the Tracker, and the little car didn’t want to come off the hitch.  Lucky for us, we were able to do some jockeying around with the motorhome,  got the Tracker a little bit straighter, and finally got the hitch unhooked. 

We decided that with the snow coming tonight to leave the slide closed so that we wouldn’t get any snow accumulation on the slide topper. 

Site 3 at East Lake Campground in the Newberry Caldera National Monument

We were settled in by 3:20 in the afternoon, watching the snow.  The previous night was the first of three we reserved, and we didn’t make it to the campground because of all the overnight snow on our route through the Cascades.  With only one night left after tonight, we hoped to get an additional night.  The campground looked fairly empty, but all the sites had reserved signs on them when we walked through the park to check for open spaces for Monday.

We arrived on a Saturday, and the weather for Sunday was predicted to be a bit better, and then by Monday, it was going to be clear and warm once again.  Things shift fairly quickly in the mountains. 

We enjoyed an indoor supper after 6, an easy dinner of leftover burger patties in a rich onion gravy with green beans and tiny little boiled yellow potatoes.  The rain dissipated a bit as the evening progressed, and the wind came up, so we debated some more about opening the slide.  Things are so much roomier when the slide is open, but with the inclement weather, we decided to leave it closed.

After supper, we took a walk with Mattie around the park, hoping to check in with the camp host and ask about Monday night. Even though there was a camp host sign, and the trailer in that spot looked inhabited, there was no sign of a human and no answer to the knock on the door.,

After some dominoes, we settled into our warm bed to enjoy the sound of the wind and the rain on the last day before summer solstice, the longest day of the year, and technically the beginning of summer.

The next day, June 22, was middle daughter Deanna’s birthday.  She was celebrating at home in eastern Washington with her husband and grandkids, and her sister Deborah, who traveled from Grants Pass to visit for a few days.  There was no way to wish her a Happy Birthday because at East Lake, there is no phone service, no internet, and no text messaging.  We were completely off-grid, something I had forgotten about camping here, and it does take a bit of getting used to.

We both slept fairly well that first night, waking up around five and staying in bed till 7:30. There was nothing particularly exciting to get up for. We couldn’t turn on the generator until 7, and that’s when we made our coffee. In the old days we used to make coffee in a French press with boiling water, but we got tired of the mess, and we got tired of the hassle. So, now we just wait for power to use my Keurig and Mo’s electric pot, and we have nice hot coffee by 7:30. 

Our plan was to go kayaking that morning, but we woke to a little bit of a breeze on the lake and snow just above us on the hills across from the lake. It wasn’t really conducive to jumping in the kayaks. We had breakfast, and then we unloaded the kayaks, in readiness for a shift in the weather.

On this trip, Mo brought enough wood for plenty of campfires, and we decided that a daytime fire would be great.  That was our plan for the morning after breakfast…sit by the campfire and enjoy the beautiful view of the water from our site. We brought enough wood for three nights, and we doubted there would be enough dry weather to use all the wood.

We unloaded the kayaks, locking them to a tree by our site, with hopes for a shift in the weather by afternoon.  We readied the BBQ for supper pork chops, and laid out the tablecloth for dinner. Sometimes the lovliest part of a camping trip is simply quiet time in front of a lake by a campfire.

By mid-afternoon the weather shifted, and the winds were calm enough that we launched the kayaks

There used to be a really nice spring along the shoreline of East Lake, but over the years it has shifted. When we first visited years ago, the springs were easily accessible by kayak on the east side of the lake.  The springs were also accessible via a trail along the bluff above the lake, but the shoreline trail was usually under water.  The water was hot and clear and about 2 feet deep.  

East Lake Hot Springs in July 2013

In 2013 Nancy and I kayaked over to the spring from the campground and Roger and Mo hiked the upper trail to look down on us from the bluff above.  At that time, the water felt great.

This year, however, the springs appeared lower along the shoreline, due to water level shifts, and only 6 inches of water bubbled a bit. Still, it was fun to kayak to the springs and remember when we could soak our feet in the hot sulphur water.

We stayed on the water for a couple of hours, enjoying the glassy surface, the birds, and the stormy skies with view of Paulina Peak to the south,

Still attempting to identify this bird.  There were dozens of them flying around us, almost landing on the boats

Paulina Peak, south of the campground 

If you look close, you can see the MoHo to the left of the boat launch and right of the white rig

Plenty of signal at the viewpoint looking toward the Cascades and the Sisters

After we returned that afternoon, we decided we were tired of having no communication with family and no internet, so we drove up the hill and then back down to the Twelve-Mile Sno Park where Gaelyn camped in 2023 and where we knew we could get a bit of internet.  It was important this time around, with things going on with family that we wanted to be sure we were aware of.  It didn’t take long, and it was a bit of a relief to discover that all was well, but it is surprising how difficult it can be to have no contact. Sometimes I like it when we are off-grid, but this wasn’t one of those times.

Our evening fire felt good, but not so good that I didn’t need my fuzzy sweater beneath my lined rain jacket and a warm wool hat to sit and enjoy it.

The next morning dawned clear and gorgeous, and before breakfast, I took Mattie for a nice walk along the shoreline toward the springs.

Look closely and you will see the icy frost along the trail where we walked

Mo and I didn’t kayak on that day because once again, I drove to a phone signal site and called the dermatologist about the surgery wound that didn’t seem to heal. She said “Can you be here tomorrow morning?”.  We decided it was best to simply pack up after just two nights on the lake and travel over the mountains toward home.

Before we left Mattie got to play with a very nice dog named Trish.  Such a calm sweetheart that dog was, even though Mattie intimidated her a bit.

By the time we returned to Grants Pass, the skies were clear, with no sign of the crazy weekend storm that covered most of Southern Oregon the previous weekend.  

I won’t include any photos of the dumb wound but will say that the doctor gave me a resounding approval and said it was healing well.  Mo and I were both relieved and glad that we managed to get back home for the last-minute appointment.

Setting up camp at Fish Lake 

The Fourth of July has always been a family holiday for us, a time to gather, share food, and make memories together. Of course, even the best-laid plans can sometimes be thwarted. This year, our plan was to meet up for a camping trip at Fish Lake in the Oregon Cascades. Mo and I were looking forward to time with daughter Deb, grandson Matthew, and his girlfriend Katy, and with daughter Melody and son-in-law Robert, who make the drive down from Brownsville. A cozy circle of family, gathered in one of our favorite mountain places—that was the dream.

But sometimes life has other plans. Robert was away on a work trip, so Melody stayed home in Brownsville to keep the cats company. Matthew and Katy, ever so responsible, couldn’t leave their elderly charge, Karen, alone overnight. And just like that, our big family Fourth of July celebration turned into a quieter gathering of three—Mo, Deb, and me.

Family at Lake of the Woods, 2016

It wasn’t the first time we’d celebrated the Fourth in the Cascades. In years past, our extended family spent long, sun-soaked days at Lake of the Woods, a beautiful mountain lake not far from Fish Lake. Camping there over the holiday is wildly popular—so popular that reservations vanish the very moment they open. This year, I tried but discovered that people had booked entire two-week stretches leading right up to the holiday. By the time I checked, there wasn’t a single site left.

That’s when the plan shifted. Fish Lake is just down the road, quieter and less competitive when it comes to reservations. We realized we could set up camp there, enjoy the peacefulness of the lake, and still make the short drive over on the evening of the Fourth to watch the annual fireworks burst above Lake of the Woods. A perfect compromise, and one that gave us both serenity and celebration.

We left early enough to arrive at Fish Lake by two o’clock, plenty of time to secure our site. Deb followed along and pulled in not long after us. The weather couldn’t have been better—blue skies, just a ripple or two across the water, and that fresh, pine-scented mountain air that makes you breathe a little deeper.

Our campsite turned out to be a gem. Through the trees we had a peek-a-boo view of the lake, and the site itself was surprisingly spacious. It even included a special raised tent platform, perfectly level—likely an ADA feature. Deb’s tent was just a hair too large for the platform, but with a bit of fiddling (and one wing folded back) she managed to make it work beautifully.

Deb’s large and roomy tent

Mo’s handy little tent from many decades of tent camping in past years, that Deb decided to try 

Once the tents were up and the gear in place, we settled into an easy rhythm of the afternoon. Mo got a good campfire going, and that’s when we stumbled across our newest camping companion: Eldarr. Someone had left behind the sweetest little gnome, and we immediately adopted him. With his tiny cap and whimsical smile, he was too adorable to ignore. Eldarr quickly became our campfire mascot.

That evening, with the fire crackling and the light softening through the trees, we opened a bottle of wine and shared a simple supper of spaghetti and salad. Nothing fancy, but in the glow of the fire and the company of family, it felt just right. We lingered there into the night, talking, laughing, and sinking into the kind of relaxation that only camping seems to provide.

The Fourth itself dawned easy and quiet. I felt the tug of holiday energy, that little voice that says we should be doing something festive, but instead we let the day unfold slowly. We took the dog for walks, watched the lake glitter through the trees, and enjoyed the hush of the forest all around us. Sometimes doing nothing is exactly what you need.

Originally, our plan had been to drive over to Lake of the Woods for the traditional fireworks. But, as with so much of this trip, plans shifted. Just before the holiday, the resort announced that the fireworks show—after more than sixty years—was canceled. Rising costs, the loss of long-time volunteers, and growing safety concerns had finally caught up with the tradition. Instead, for the first time, they would host a laser light show over the lake.

It wouldn’t be the same, of course. I love fireworks, they have a certain magic—the boom echoing off the mountains, the shimmer over the water—that lasers couldn’t begin to replace. We weren’t interested in making the drive to Lake of the Woods and dealing with crowds and traffic for a laser show, so we chose instead to stay home in camp.  .

We decided that enjoying our smoker cooked ribs that Deb had prepared didn’t need to wait until dinner time.  We enjoyed our meal in early afternoon, and the ribs were so delicious. Accompanied by our tradition Fourth of July potato salad, some chips and more wine, it was a perfect afternoon meal that extended into suppertime.

Later, we wandered down to the water’s edge, following the narrow path through the pines. Fish Lake isn’t as deep and clear as Lake of the Woods, but its quiet beauty has a way of working on you. Lake of the Woods is much bigger and has no restrictions on big noisy boats and jet skis.   Fish Lake is much quieter, with a few slow fishing boats and people bobbing happily around on float toys. Sometimes the quieter places give you exactly what you didn’t know you needed.

It was the quietest Fourth of July we have ever spent without any explosive sounds marring the silence of the night

The morning after the Fourth was every bit as peaceful as the holiday itself. Sunlight sifted down through the trees, warming the air just enough to take the chill off. The lake was calm, broken only by the occasional ripple of a breeze. With only two kayaks and three people, Mo made the generous offer to stay in camp with Mattie so Deb and I could paddle together. We drove just fifteen miles down the mountain to Recreation Creek, our favorite kayaking destination of all time.

Mo and I have explored these waters for years, and still we’ve never found another place that compares. The Upper Klamath Wildlife Refuge is full of life, and the creek meanders so gently it feels like drifting.

Deb and I decided to head south this time, following the creek as it enters Pelican Bay on the northwestern edge of Klamath Lake. The morning was calm and perfect, the water like glass. A large group of Canada geese greeted us along the shoreline, their reflections mirrored in the still bay. At Harriman Springs, the water turned deep and astonishingly clear—we could see trout darting quickly below our kayaks, their silver bodies flashing in the light.

The one sadness was not finding any of the mare’s eggs that used to thrive there. These strange colonies of algae (Nostoc pruniforme) once grew like dark green softballs in the spring, gelatinous and otherworldly. They seem to be gone now, unable to survive as conditions have shifted. Still, the water, the wildlife, and the peace of paddling with Deb made the day unforgettable.

When we returned, Mo was waiting with Mattie. She had enjoyed her own quiet morning walking the dog and resting in the shade, and it felt good to come back and share stories of the paddle.

Later that afternoon, Mo and Deb, and I decided that another trip down the hill to our old home in Rocky Point would be fun.  We have friends there, and I called to see if they might be home and available for a visit.  Mata and Jim welcomed us with open arms and a cold beer as we sat on their porch, enjoying the afternoon.  Deb was amazed at the fabulous view that Mata and Jim have enjoyed for the several decades they have lived in Rocky Point. It was wonderful seeing our old friends and spending some time together.

On Sunday morning, Mo got another fire going, and we put together a simple breakfast. I snapped a few photos to capture the light slanting through the forest. We stayed like that until it was time to think about packing up. None of us were quite ready to leave, but the ease of the morning made saying goodbye to the forest and the lake a little easier.  

Driving home, I thought about how different this holiday had been—smaller, quieter, simpler. And yet, the peace of this camping trip felt like a true gift.

No fireworks, no big family gathering, no crazy Bocci ball on sloping lawns. The big family circle was smaller, there were no fireworks, and our plans shifted more than once along the way. And yet, sitting by the fire with Mo and Deb, walking the quiet forest trails, and watching the light play across Fish Lake, I thought about how little those changes mattered. What stayed the same was the heart of the holiday—time spent together, making memories in the places we love.

Daughter Deborah captured these images of Mo and me in a familiar moment, with Mo trying to figure out why I am being so silly. Could it be the wine?

 I am not really sure how many long-time readers are still hanging around my blog, but if any of you are still here, you may remember that my best time for writing is often in the wee hours of the morning. Spring and Early Summer are in full swing now in Grants Pass, which means that gardening season is here. Cleanup in April, planting in May, trimming in June. The flow of the seasonal progression around here is a precious thing.

In that lovely progression, I had a fall, landing on my hip.  Thought maybe I cracked something, but no, just old lady arthritis, and a 7-day round of Prednisone was the solution to night pain that kept me awake.  Now I am awake, not from pain but from the spectacular miracle drug that is also full of side effects, like keeping me awake.  I try not to take it more than 3 times a year when nothing else seems to do the trick and lessen the uncomfortable feelings of IBM and aging.

At 3:30 this morning, I woke and treasured the intense quiet of the night.  No barking dogs, no cars going by, no sounds from town just below our terrace.  The moon is gone and the stars are brighter this time of night.  We have a couple of solar lanterns on the decks, and yesterday I added some solar lights along the back gardens.  The glow in the sky is the glow of our town, which is captured perfectly by the night mode on a Samsung camera.  Silly photo, but it reminds me of the silence that kept me awake and sent me here to the office to write about our last camping trip.

Daughter Deborah camped with us again, only this time she brought her own tent for sleeping instead of staying in the RV.

Despite the springtime chores, we still manage to get in at least one trip each month, and Mid-May was no exception. Our destination was close, just a little over an hour east toward the mountains and the lovely Lost Lake Reservoir.  The Joseph Stewart State Park is still called that even though it is now owned and operated by Jackson County Parks.  

Lost Creek Lake is a reservoir on the Rogue River in Jackson County, Oregon. The lake is impounded by William L. Jess Dam, which was constructed by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers in 1977 for flood control and fisheries enhancement.

Monday midday at Joseph Stewart, with all the Mother’s Day weekend campers gone.

It is a lovely park, with widely space campsites, well maintained grounds, electric and water hookups in about half the campsites, and a dump station that worked better than most we have encountered.

Our campsite, with room for the MoHo, the Tracker, Deb’s adorable Subaru, with her tent, and a partial view of the lake toward the back.

Above, The view of our launch site at Catfish Cove, across the lake from our campground. Below, aerial view of the perfect place to launch kayaks on Lost Creek Lake.

We camped at Lost Lake in 2023, and like that year, the reservoir this year was 99 percent full, a lovely condition which encourages kayaking.  We usually avoid reservoirs because, in years of drought, there are only brown dirt embankments surrounding the water, and it isn’t very pretty from a boat.  Summer may still bring drought if predictions are correct, but in spring during snow melt this year, all the reservoirs in the Rogue Valley system were full.  I wish we had time to go camping and kayaking at every single full lake within an hour or two of home.

On this kayak trip, however, we initially planned to take turns in the boats, with three campers and only two kayaks, it was the only solution. However, a couple of minor surgeries involving my lower leg and my toe meant I couldn’t get in a bathtub or a hot tub, much less a wild lake. As a result, we had two kayakers, Mo and Deborah, two kayaks, and me.  I helped with the launches, waited in the car with the dog and went on a few short hikes. 

And they are off, on a bright clear morning with very little wind

I drove back to the bridge crossing the lake for a view of the two of them from above.

Watching until they disappeared upstream

Such a beautiful place on a sunny morning, and it was fun to see it all from a different perspective and try to follow them on the trail that parallels the lake on the left side.

Mariposa lilies and lupine lined the trail in the sunnier spots

In addition to kayaking, we had campfires every night.  The winds weren’t as strong as they had been in the past, and the smoke was manageable and even laughable at times as we moved our chairs around the fire to be in just the right spot to avoid it.

Suppers were pre-planned, easy and fun, with the favorite being a bbqed pork loin with my own special marinade, creamy vanilla and maple flavored sweet potatoes, and my signature plum-cherry sauce for the pork.  Steamed and seasoned green beans rounded out the colors.

The second morning of kayaking wasn’t quite as perfect, with overcast skies and a bit of wind shortening the time on the water for Deb and Mo to less than an hour.  They still loved it in spite of the challenges, and I enjoyed more time walking the short trails around Catfish Cove.

Later that day, the clouds lifted and we went for a long walk around the park.  This time, I needed to use the trusty walker on the rough trail, and it added a bit of challenge.  Onward, and keep laughing!

It was Mother’s Day, and Deborah wanted to treat us to a lovely dinner at Mac’s Diner in Shady Cove, just half an hour from the campground.  Deb lived in Shady Cove for some years and had often mentioned wanting to take us there.  We had a good time with a great view of the river, enjoying the unique ambience of the diner.

That night it rained all night, and Deborah used a tarp to keep her tent dry.  We decided that a rainy day might be the best time to do some local sightseeing, and instead, the rain stopped and our sightseeing day was spectacular.

Deb took us to a waterfall that, in all our years of driving up Highway 62 toward Crater Lake, we had never seen.  Just a couple of miles east of the highway is Mill Creek Falls, a spectacular cascade that flows underneath a beautiful historic bridge.

Returning to Highway 62 through the little community of Prospect, we continued to a familiar place where Mo and I often take guests on our sightseeing trips around Grants Pass.  The Natural Bridge area has a lovely trail to the wooden bridge that crosses the wild Rogue River.  There are interpretive signs that explain the volcanic geology of the area and the way the river goes underground through the volcanic rock that makes up the Rogue River Gorge.

The Rogue River is magnificent from its birth, not far from this spot in springs on the east side of Crater Lake, all the way to its meeting with the Pacific Ocean at Gold Beach. For any river nerds reading this blog who might like to get into the weeds about the Rogue River, here is a link to a great article in Wikipedia that describes its beginning, its end, and all the tributaries that flow into it.  (The Rogue River). The great river flows through our town and is a highlight of a drive to the grocery store.  A few miles west of us, the river is designated as “Wild and Scenic” and is a wild run of rapids and beauty for the most adventurous rafters.

A cool, rainy day was the perfect backdrop for a stop at the historic and iconic Beckies Cafe at Union Creek.  Famous for their Marionberry pies in season, this time we had to settle for a simple blackberry pie, also perfect.  Surprisingly, the French fries were the best we had eaten anywhere.  Pie and fries, what could be better?1

Beckie’s is famous all over the world, often mentioned in travel stories about driving to Crater Lake with a stop at Union Creek for their famous pies.  

The cafe has a rich history spanning over a century. It was built in the early 1920s by Ed Beckelhymer and quickly became a popular stop for travelers and locals alike. The cafe is part of the broader Union Creek Resort, which is still a thriving business with lodging and guest cabins. 

Ed Beckelhymer, known to locals as “Beckie,” originally ran the restaurant and a service station. The Union Creek Resort, including Beckie’s Cafe, was a significant part of the early tourism in the area, serving as a popular camping spot and a place to rest for tourists and berry pickers. After Ed’s passing, his wife, Cecil, continued to run the business, also known as “Beckie,” and became famous for her huckleberry pies. Beckie’s Cafe is listed on the National Historic Register.  The cafe remains a popular destination for those seeking a taste of the past and a peaceful setting near the Rogue River and Union Creek. 

After our snack, we continued east and north on Highway 62 just a short distance from Beckie’s, to visit Deb’s favorite spot on the River, the Gorge.  Here, the trails wind along more wild cascades where the river has eroded the volcanic rock into a deep gorge.

Rogue River Gorge Viewpoint has a short, paved path loaded with incredible, close-up views of the river’s rushing waters through the narrow channel. There are incredible views of a portion of the 215-mile Rogue at its narrowest: just 25 feet wide and screaming with the hydraulic force at a rate of about  410,000 gallons per minute. Along the path, there are more interpretive signs explaining some of the science of what’s going on here, including one for The Living Stump, which is exactly what it sounds like, a stump that, because of its interconnectivity with roots of neighboring trees, has continued to live. 

Yes, we ended the day once again in the rain. The two-shoe option had to do with the foot surgery that made it impossible to wear a proper shoe on both feet, but I needed at least one to keep proper balance.

Our camping trip was the perfect balance of sunshine, rain on the roof, kayaking, sightseeing, and excellent food. It was a truly spectacular way to spend Mother’s Day with one of my daughters, and Mo and I agreed the short trip, just an hour from home, was nearly perfect.  We are so very lucky to live where we do.

Deb got a phone shot of the full moon rising on our last night at the park.  

May is just behind us now, and writing about our trip and the cool rain and lovely days reminds me why I always say that May is the very best time to visit this part of Oregon.  Our green grasses are now browning in the lower pasture where we don’t irrigate.  The days have been nearly perfect, with only a few reaching the high 80s in the last weeks of the month. 

Astrological summer begins this year on June 20th at the Summer Solstice.  However, meteorological summer, as defined by climatologists, runs from June 1st to August 31st. This is a fixed, three-month period that is used for more convenient data analysis and comparison of seasonal trends across years. Here, it already feels like summer, and we are expecting triple digits in Grants Pass this coming weekend.  Now it begins.  The sweet spot is over, and now we wait for the heat and the dryness, the possible fires and all the other delights of living in a place that is very nearly perfect, but not quite.

Early morning on the Columbia River east of the Cascade Locks

Something we didn’t really realize until we reviewed our itinerary in detail was that our river “cruise” was more about river ports than actually cruising on the river.  Much of the travel was completed during the night hours with arrivals after midnight and departures after dark.  This is reasonable for most people who are interested in exploring the ports along the Columbia River, but for us, it was a bit of a disappointment.  We were most excited to be on the river, to feel the motion of cruising, and watch the landscape as we passed. 

Our last day on the river gave us the best of everything, thanks to a few minor kerfuffles that required a bit of jockeying around for the ship captain.  First, he notified us that our departure time from the Port of Kalama would be earlier than scheduled because of the heavy river traffic ahead.  The captain hoped to get to the Cascade Locks at the Bonneville Dam before 4 AM to be ahead of some other ships and avoid long waits at the locks.

Mo and I set our alarm for 3:30 AM to be sure that we wouldn’t miss the lock transit, but when we woke we discovered that our ship was quiet in the water and the locks were still more than 6 miles east of our location.  We put on warm coats and watched outside our stateroom for any sign of activity.  

We walked down the hall to the breakfast room for some coffee and finally went back to our room to wait for word from the captain.  After a time, anxious to see how far away we were from entering the locks, we went outside on the lower deck and settled into the rockers to watch the early morning light and wait for something exciting to happen.

The tiny lights of Bonneville Dam and Cascade Locks appeared in the distance just as it was turning daylight.

Passing Beacon Rock on the north shore of the Columbia

The ship was moving very slowly toward the dam, and then once again it came to a standstill

At last, the locks came into view, and we thought we would be passing through the lock

But no, American Jazz passed us into the lock as we waited another hour before entering

The captain told us later that the issue had to do with the Jazz’s itinerary. She had priority since she was heading farther east all the way to Lewiston, Idaho. We learned much about the jockeying of ships on a busy waterway and what gets priority passage at different times.

Once our ship was in the lock, the gates closed, and the water began to rise, lifting the ship to the next level of the river.

Looking west from the lock toward the lower level of the River below the Bonneville Dam

Mo and I have both experienced going through locks on waterways, including the Panama Canal in an ocean liner, and the many locks on the Rhine in Europe.   Each experience is different, and I doubt I would get tired of the engineering magic that allows ships to shift levels on a river or between oceans.

The delight of this extended delay was the opportunity to cruise the Columbia River during daylight hours instead of in the dark as originally scheduled.  In addition to the delay at the locks, we needed to take on fuel, and the port at Stevenson, Washington, was closed for an undisclosed reason.  This necessitated that we travel additional miles to fuel at Hood River.

The Bridge of the Gods that crosses the Columbia from Hood River, Oregon to the Washington side

The extra time cruising the river on this beautiful morning was a highlight of our cruise.  We passed the old Columbia River Highway built by the CCC in the 30’s.  (In the photo below shown above the new interstate highway)

We saw tribal fish traps where local people catch salmon as they have done for centuries.

We saw spectacular views of Mount Hood to the south of our route along the river

We saw a few hardy souls braving the morning chill and the seasonally cold river water to windsurf and windsail near Hood River, an activity that had made the town famous throughout the world.

The previous evening, before our visit on the bridge with the captain, we met his charming wife and listened to a few of her stories about her life with a river captain.  One of the interesting facts she told us in addition to his well-known prowess as a river captain, was his ability to dock the river ship right on the shoreline.

Sure enough, when we reached Hood River, we watched the ship turn perpendicular to the rocky beach wall and saw the captain drop the gangway right down on the side of the dirt road where the fueling trucks waited.  Our captain maneuvered that ship like a kid’s toy.

Because the stop in Hood River was unscheduled, there were no official tours in town.  But the best tour of the afternoon was the included tour of Multnomah Falls, just half an hour by bus back toward the west from Hood River.

Mo and I have visited Multnomah Falls many times over the decades, but never together.  I hiked to the top of the falls in August of 1999 on a road trip from Spokane to Corvallis with daughter Deborah and grandson Matthew.  It was a hot day, and even when I was 25 years younger, that steep hike was a workout!

Sue at the top of Multnomah Falls in August 1999

Matthew and Deborah, after we hiked to the top of the falls in 1999

Since Mo and I have traveled I-84 past the falls, we have only watched for them in passing, never attempting to brave the crowds and the busy parking lot to visit.  We thought that visiting on a cruise tour was the perfect option to do so.  Let someone else drive and worry about parking, and we could simply enjoy the beautiful falls.

Multnomah Falls is the tallest waterfall in the state of Oregon and is the second-tallest year-round waterfall in the United States. However, there has been some skepticism surrounding this distinction, as Multnomah Falls is listed as the 156th tallest waterfall in the United States by the World Waterfall Database (this site does not distinguish between seasonal and year-round waterfalls. The World Waterfall Database disputes claims that Multnomah Falls is the fourth-tallest waterfall in the United States, which has been claimed in such sources as the Encyclopedia of World Geography. So which is it?  Second Tallest, Fourth Tallest, 156th Tallest?  Does it even matter? No matter where it lands in statistics, there is no question that it is one of the most lovely falls in the country.

The land surrounding the falls was developed by Simon Benson in the early twentieth century, with a pathway, viewing bridge, and adjacent lodge being constructed in 1925. The Multnomah Falls Lodge and the surrounding footpaths at the falls were added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1981. 

Looking down from the bridge viewpoint

I got a shot of Mo on the bridge but never managed a decent photo of me

Currently, the state of Oregon maintains a switchback trail that ascends to a talus slope 100 feet above the falls and descends to an observation deck that overlooks the falls’ edge. The falls attract over two million visitors each year, making it the most-visited natural recreation site in the Pacific Northwest.

As a result, there are now timed entry and parking limitations at the main parking lot.  Another reason why we have never stopped in the past few years and why we were especially delighted for the opportunity to take a bus tour to visit one of our home state’s most well-known features.

Our tour allowed plenty of time for those wanting to hike to the top of the falls to do so.  Needless to say, neither of us had any desire to attempt the hike this time, but I did manage to get my walker up to the observation bridge for some great photos.

The trip to the falls was a beautiful way to celebrate the last day of our river cruise on American Pride. Our meal that last night was excellent, with Maine lobster, Seared Farm Raised Beef Tenderloin served with Brandy Peppercorn Sauce, and drawn butter.  Dessert was a choice of many including Oregon Hazlenut Frangelico creme brulee and Merlot Chocolate Mousse.

After dinner, we once again went to the second-deck lounge for complimentary cocktails and another wild hour of incredible music by Mario Carboni. 

Sue and Mo on American Pride with the Bridge of the Gods in the background

Mo and I were very happy with the Columbia River cruise on American Pride.  We enjoyed every moment, enjoyed seeing familiar places in our beautiful state of Oregon from the river perspective.  We enjoyed the relaxation, the food, the stateroom, and the ship.  I am not sure what some folks who left bad reviews experienced, but it was defitely not our experience and I left a glowing review for American Cruise Lines and the American Pride.

We arrived at the Port of Kalama at 12:30 AM on Friday morning while sound asleep.  

Above: When we woke and opened our stateroom draperies, this is what we saw.  

It was another brilliant and sunny day in Northwestern Oregon in the middle of April. The gangway is a special one owned by American Pride, and it can be adjusted to the shoreline based on the current river level.

For whatever reason, neither Mo nor I had heard of the town of Kalama until we read our Columbia River Itinerary.  The main included excursion for this port was a five-hour bus trip to visit Mount Saint Helens, the iconic volcano visible from several vantage points along the river.  As I write this story today, we are just one day short of the 45th anniversary of the calamitous eruption of that volcano on May 18, 1980.

Above: the black cloud of volcanic ash overtaking Moscow Idaho on May 18 1980

I have an interesting reason for marking this anniversary.  I was married at 2 PM on May 18, 1980, just after the volcano blew and the ash turned the skies of our town, Moscow, Idaho, completely black.  It was an interesting day and an even more interesting honeymoon.  My new husband and I were trapped in our small home with my three teenage daughters, my own adopted mother, Lance’s mother and step-father, my friend Maryruth, and assorted friends who had traveled from Coeur d’Alene to celebrate with us.  

Above: in front of our house on May 18 1980

Above: Phil and Joanne in the center, Daughter Melody to the right of them, and my dearest friend Maryruth at my wedding on May 18, 1980

Those friends included folks I have mentioned recently in this blog, Phil and Joanne Hartwig.  Phil and Joanne eventually made it back home through all the ash, but we spent three days unable to leave our home unless fully masked, and very few cars were on the road because the ash was causing all sorts of problems.  The airports were closed.  

Above: Notice the black windows outside at 2 PM in the afternoon on May 18 1980

So I do remember this day. I knew St Helens before she blew, and have visited her in the aftermath.  Mo and I have visited a couple of times as well.  Thus, neither of us had any particular need to sit on a bus for the ride up the mountain. We learned later that the Visitor Center was still closed for the season, so there was even less reason to visit.

Above: a view of the Mountain Timber Market

Instead, we decided to take another slow day on our own, exploring the Port of Kalama. Before disembarking, we attended a short presentation in the River Lounge touting all the wonders of the area. The town is small, with just over 8,000 residents, but the bustling port of Kalama ranks as the third largest exporter on the U.S. West Coast.  More than 40 onsite tenants at the Port employ more than 1,400 people, creating economic opportunities and beautiful recreational facilities that draw visitors from around the Northwest.  

Our narrator explained the complexity of building the Mountain Timber Market building, intended to house the 140-foot-tall Lelooska Totem Pole.  The building cost more than 22 million dollars, and Mo and I both wondered how such a building was financed.  The person representing the town said, “We paid cash”.  Wow.  She informed us that the town has a very large disposable income because of the busy port, and they are continuously building and updating public areas to draw in tourists.

The town also built the Port of Kalama Interpretive Center, with exhibits that tell the story of how transportation formed the way the Port and the City of Kalama came to be.  The Center includes immersive display models, replicas, and educational videos. 

After our introductory lecture, Mo and I were looking forward to visiting the beautiful waterfront park, exploring the Public Market at the Mountain Timber Market Building, and enjoying a day that might include a bit of shopping.

Above: the Port of Kalama from the Sky Lounge Deck on American Pride, 

We exited the ship and walked to the Timber Market Building first.  It was big and it was impressive, but the shopping experience was a bit thin.  There were a few small shops, the sort that would need a much bigger population base in order to be successful.  We visited with a few of the shopkeepers and learned that the city had offered grants to the owners in order to make their businesses viable for a few years while the area is being developed.

The Lelooska Totem Pole was definitely impressive, and we laughed after learning that in order to fit it into the building, they had to extend the building a few feet.  The 140-foot Lelooska totem pole, initially located at the Port of Kalama, was taken down in 2018 due to structural concerns caused by weathering and potential safety risks. After being removed, the pole underwent a restoration process led by Chief Lelooska’s family, including re-carving and surface work. The restored totem pole was then moved into the Port of Kalama’s Mountain Timber Market in 2023, where it now hangs horizontally from the ceiling. The rededication ceremony took place on February 16, 2024. 

At one time, there were three totem poles at the port, and two of the shorter ones still remain upright. All of them were carved in the early 1960s by artist Don Smith and were designed to encompass Native American lore and tradition. Smith began work on them for display at the Seattle World’s Fair in 1962, but did not finish in time. Don Smith was not a Northwest Coast Indian but was adopted by the Kwakiutl tribe as an honorary chief in the 1970s. He took the name “Chief Lelooska,”

Above: one of the two remaining LaLooska totem poles still standing in the port

In 1977, Chief Lelooska and his family established the Lelooska Foundation, and each spring they welcome visitors to their Cultural Center in Ariel, Washington.  There, they host living history performances in the fire-lit replica of a Kwa’kwaka’wakw ceremonial house.  Visitors are treated to dramatic narration and dance presentations of traditional Northwest Coast Ceremonial Dances.    Though Don Smith died in 1996, the Foundation still carries on its educational mission, and the Cultural Center, operated by Chief Lelooska’s family, continues to present living history performances each spring.

Above: A traditional “real” totem pole I photographed in Ketchikan, Alaska, in 2010

Traditional totem poles are protected due to their significant cultural, historical, and spiritual importance to Native American communities, as well as their value as artistic expressions and traditional crafts. They serve as visual representations of tribal histories, legends, and social structures, often depicting ancestral figures, animals, and mythological beings. Because these totem poles in the park were works of art rather than traditional, they are not protected in the same way

In Native American culture, totem poles serve as visual records of stories, legends, and teachings passed down through generations. They depict family crests, hereditary titles, and social hierarchies within a tribe. The symbols and names on totem poles are often tied to tribal languages, helping to preserve these languages and oral traditions. Totem poles are powerful visual reminders of a tribe’s roots, history, and cultural values. Totem poles can be used in ceremonies and rituals to connect with ancestors and spirits. The figures and symbols on totem poles often represent spiritual entities or animals with sacred meanings. 

As is true of other forms of Native American art and objects, some totem poles have been taken from their original communities by colonial forces and are now in museums or private collections. Efforts are underway to repatriate these poles to their rightful owners.  

It was surprising to us that in her presentation, the representative of the community of Kelowna never mentioned the fact that the LeLooska poles were simply works of art rather than traditional sacred totem poles. 

However, simply as a work of art by Don Smith, the LeLooska Totem Pole is magnificent, with 140 feet of carving and painting representing traditional stories and mythology. 

After exploring the Mountain Timber Market building, we stepped outside to the heady fragrance of a taco food truck.  Lunch was free on the ship just a few hundred yards away, but I couldn’t resist the charcoal-broiled beef and homemade salsas with fresh corn tortillas.  Heaven!

We then continued our exploration of the port by walking to the opposite end of the park to visit the Port of Kalama Interpretive Center.  The highlight of the center is the huge steam locomotive called the SP&S 539. Once again, we laughed at the story we were told about how the engine didn’t fit the building and they had to retrofit the Center to get it inside. This locomotive was built in 1917 and previously operated by the Spokane, Portland & Seattle Railway. It was part of the Grand Canyon Railway before being purchased by the Port of Kalama in 2019. The locomotive was moved to Kalama in March 2020.

The center was open and well built, with large rooms for community meetings and other spaces for educational lectures.  The displays were interesting, but after our spectacular visit to the Maritime Museum in Astoria, we were a bit disappointed.  All the talk about what was available at the port was a bit exaggerated.  The park was lovely, the buildings were spacious and well built, but the sense is that they need a bit of time to grow into themselves.

The most interesting building at the port, however, is the beautiful McMenniman’s Kalama Harbor Lodge.  Situated between Kalama’s landmark totem poles and the Port of Kalama’s Interpretive Center lies the lodge.  Opened in 2018, the Harbor Lodge was inspired by the Hawaiian heritage of John Kalama, founder of the town, while the property’s architecture was inspired by the Pioneer Inn in Lahaina, Maui. 

Above: Pioneer Inn in Lahaina, Maui, Hawaii

We learned that after the fires that destroyed the Pioneer Inn, there were no blueprints left to use to restore it.  The people of Lahaina requested blueprints from McMenniman’s and are using them to bring the restoration of the Pioneer Inn as close as possible to the original.

Above:  Back to our lovely American Pride

We enjoyed our simple day at the Port of Kalama, with plenty of time for walking in the sunshine, watching people on the small beach and in the park, and relaxing in the late afternoon before dinner as the ship departed.

Above: Our captain on the left posing for a photo op with a passenger

Dinner was scheduled at 5:30, but also at 5:30, just before departure, the Captain offered an invitation to anyone interested to tour the bridge.  There were about 30 of us who crowded into the room to hear his stories.  Our captain has worked on the Columbia River for more than ten years and is considered one of the best navigators of the great river.  Before beginning his tour on the Pride, he was captain of the Song of America, a bigger and newer ship.  He said he didn’t have a favorite, with each ship having its own personality and quirks. 

Above:  American Jazz (same vintage as the Song) moored across from us at the Port of Kalama

Above: Departing the Port of Kalama

After our bridge visit, we went down to dinner, a bit late but still in time to get great food and excellent service at a table with friends we met at previous meals.  

The dinner menu entrees:  

Seared Columbia River Steelhead Trout, served with Smoked Salmon Ragout, Blistered Baby Heirloom Tomatoes, Cheese Tortellini, and English Pea Puree

Veal Schnitzel with Bacon and Thyme Gnocchi served with Braised Washington Apples, Red Cabbage, and a Lemon Caper Butter Sauce.

Red Wine Braised Short Ribs of Beef served with Eagle Eye Farms Whipped Kennebec Potatoes, Roasted Broccolini, and Braising Jus (Mo and I each chose this entree)

Sun-Dried Tomato Risotto with Asparagus topped with Crispy Leeks and Shaved Parmesan.

As you can see, there is a vegetarian option, as was the case for all meals.  I would think this menu rivals any we have enjoyed on much bigger ships, and the food was delicious.

After dinner, Mo and I decided to go to the River Lounge on the Second Deck for cocktails and entertainment.  The cocktails are complimentary, with a specialty herbal mojito, which was superb.  But it was the entertainment that was so good that Mo turned to me and said, “This is worth the cost of the entire trip!”  

Mario Carboni the “Honky Tonk Rebel”

Above: piano with one hand and trumpet with the other, and both to perfection while he added some lyrics 

That might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but not much.  We listened to some incredible music by Mario Carboni, with piano that rivaled Jerry Lee Lewis, and a voice as smooth as butter singing songs we knew and loved.  In addition, the guy was funny, REALLY funny, and we laughed out loud many times. He was so good that we even bought his CD, which he joked about, saying “No one has CD players anymore”, even though we no longer have a CD player except in our car.  

The evening put a great spin on what had been a fairly quiet day, and we knew that we would be sure to get good seats for his performance the next evening, our last of the cruise.