camping – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

June 4 Escape to Howard Prairie Lake

Just a reminder, words that are in bold print are links that might interest you. If you click on the photos, you will be redirected to the smugmug gallery where that photo resides.

Escaping is easy, it just requires a moment and a bit of planning and the commitment to put it on the calendar. Somehow if it’s on the calendar, we manage to do it. The original plan was for a trip to the desert, to the east side of Oregon, basking in the high dry gorgeousness of the Steens Mountains. I can’t believe it has been so many years since we were there. It seemed like a lovely thing to do in early June.

Company gone, chores caught up, we put a week of escape days into the calendar. I mapped the route, looked at Page Campground near French Glen, checked the weather, read the blog about our last trip to the Steens over Labor Day one year. Then something happened. Seven hours of driving, no water to play on, gorgeous high desert that is known for gnats in June at the campground, hiking the main entertainment. Off grid. For no reason I can explain, I said to Mo, “Why don’t we go to Howard Prairie instead? We can kayak and have a campfire and enjoy the forest again.” That is how a long trip to the high desert turned into a short trip into the western slope of the nearby Cascades.

On the map, you can see Rocky Point on the upper right corner, where we used to live, on the left, our home in Grants Pass. It somewhat explains why we never managed to get to Howard Prairie again, even though Mo and her family used to have family camping and boating get togethers there many years ago, before I knew them. Living in Rocky Point, we were so close to so many outdoor options, lakes, rivers, the refuges, that we forgot about Howard Prairie.

Now that we live in town, on the west side, we have to be a bit more creative in finding good places to kayak, and that most often leads us back to the mountains east of Grants Pass.

Time surely does have a way of disappearing. We had good memories of a camping trip to Grizzly Campground at Howard Prairie, but when was that? Not in the blog? Oh no! It was before I started blogging. No journal of the trip? Oh my! I finally found the photos, from the summer of 2006, the first year I moved from Klamath Falls Oregon to Sonora California for my work. I drove the truck back to Oregon and Mo met me at Howard Prairie with our baby MoHo. I wish I had written about the trip then, because we spent a lot of the time trying to remember which site we were in, and where we had kayaked.

What we did remember, however, was that we went to the Britt Music Festival in Ashland, and then drove back up to the mountain lake to spend the rest of the weekend. That first night we were all alone in the campground, and as we drove in the pitch darkness was a bit disconcerting. The campground isn’t terribly small, 19 sites, and is located right next to the main road. It was one of the few times in our RVing experience where we were definitely a bit spooked.

That year we had a lovely day on the lake, with water flowers, pelicans, gorgeous views of the mountains, but this time when we got out in our boats, nothing looked familiar. Howard Prairie Lake is actually a reservoir, and is currently at less than 60 percent of capacity due to the low snow pack from the previous winter. The shoreline is so far down that the lake is significantly smaller.

The only factor that wasn’t particularly nice about that low water was the mucky bottom along the shoreline. Our site was adjacent to the water, and we carried the boats down, hunting for a place to launch. Mo chose the rocky lower bottom of the closed boat launch, and I chose the mucky bottom. Still, once we were on the water, everything felt wonderful.

Our morning kayak on the lovely lake was filled with birds, especially the Canada geese with literally hundreds of babies. The American white pelicans were around, not more than half a dozen at a time, but they entertained us perfectly with their F15 type flying maneuvers low over the water. I filmed one of them feeding, and he basically ignored me as he dumped over and over into the water in search of goodies.

We saw eagles and ospreys, too high to photograph well from the rocking kayak, and what I later discovered was a spotted sandpiper. We heard kingfishers, and killdeer. It is what we love best about our Oregon waterways, all the amazing birdlife.

Once again we had the entire campground almost entirely to ourselves. The first night a lone camper drifted in and the next morning we met him after his morning yoga on the beach. He and a friend had just graduated from Berkeley and they were celebrating by driving around the Pacific Northwest. He rushed over when we saw us approaching the landing area, offering to help us if needed. I guess maybe he was worried because we looked too old to get out of the kayaks alone? Ha! It might be funny to watch, but we can still manage it.

The second night we were joined late in the evening by a lone camper in a white truck who quietly set up his hammock and disappeared early the next morning. On Wednesday night, during a sunny pleasant week in June, we had the entire campground completely to ourselves. Totally dark and totally silent and totally alone. For some reason, it wasn’t the least bit spooky this time.

We woke in the mornings with the eastern sunshine pouring in through the forest and the lake mists, to chilly temperatures. Waiting an hour or so for the sun to warm up the air a bit, we launched the kayaks for time on the water before the winds came up. Still, the paddles back home were more challenging because even by 10 or 11 on the lake, the breezes made for choppy water.

We would return from our boating forays before noon and cook a nice breakfast, which served as a great lunch as well. Two meals a day is perfect when camping it seems. Although one afternoon we did supplement our home cooking with some ice cream from the resort grocery store.

In the afternoons we explored the other campgrounds around Howard Prairie, checked out the resort, with its big campground with hookups, a store, and a marina. Even the fancy campgrounds were not even close to full, with lots of space.

Another afternoon we drove south to Hyatt Lake, a smaller reservoir nearby, with water that was even lower than that at Howard Prairie. Hyatt is a lovely little lake, and unlike the Jackson County campgrounds that are around Howard Prairie, the Hyatt campgrounds are administered by the BLM, and are reservation only sites. On each campsite is a number to call to get a reservation, which you can do on the same day. Although cell service is basically unavailable, so we decided that if we ever wanted to camp at Hyatt, we would have to really plan ahead.

Sometimes we just say “no” even with 4 wheel drive

I didn’t realize that the infamous Cascade-Siskiyou National Monument boundary actually included the eastern and southern shoreline of both of these lakes. We started up the rough dirt road, crossing the Pacific Crest Trail, toward the Yew Springs Road, but without maps, the forests looked all the same and we had no idea how far the road went through the same kind of landscape. Later I did some research and discovered an entirely new world of amazing places to hike and explore right here in our own back yard Cascades Monument. The hike to Hobart Bluff is definitely on our list of things to do.

The monument is only infamous if you are among my friends who have tracked some of the issues surrounding National Monuments in our country at this time. This is one slated for reduction, and is the subject of much controversy in the area, some pro, some against, but everyone has a strong opinion. Much to say here, but I’ll save that for private conversations.

Another lovely feature at Howard Prairie is the beautiful trail that encircles the entire lake, with several sections that are accessible from different points. We walked part of the trail between our Grizzly Campground and the main Howard Prairie Resort, and another part of the trail that surrounded the upper part of what was once lake but now is only meadow. The nice thing about the low water was that at this time of year, the exposed banks were covered with thick green vegetation and tons of wildflowers, including huge drifts of yellow monkeyflower. It was breathtaking.

Wandering through the woods, I was tickled inside to find so many little forbs and flowers familiar from my soil mapping days in Northern Idaho. Similar species, and even some that are the same, and many that are indicators of moist soils from which they spring. Recognizing some, remembering their names, and seeing others that I had no clue about reminded me that it has been awhile since identifying all those little forbs and flowers was part of my job.

Mo made a great campfire every single night, with well seasoned wood from trees we had taken down on the Grants Pass property a few years ago. We sat outside by the fire for our supper, without a single pesty mosquito or fly or any kind of bug to bother us. Still can’t quite figure that one out, but there are very few bugs around the upper end of Howard Prairie, even down by the water. When we were out in the boats, on the larger portion of the lake, we did encounter a few bugs, but nothing like what we have experienced in the Klamath Basin.

Calypso bulbosa var. occidentalis, the Western Fairy Slipper

During our entire respite, we had no cell service to speak of, except a few notifications that would pop up now and then. I couldn’t actually see them, so unless I was trying to use the maps, I turned off the pesky phone with it’s irritating notification noises. No internet of course, no email, nothing. I love that time for completely shutting off the electronic world, and while it can be a bit of a withdrawal, it has wonderful rewards. I found myself a bit reluctant to move back into the connected world which seems so full of “stuff”. It is easy to simply hide away in your own little bubble in the mountains and pay no attention whatsoever to the dramas ensuing in the outside world.

Anemone Piperi, Piper’s Windflower

Delphineum menziesii Larkspur

We ran the generator each morning to keep the batteries charged up, paid attention to our water use and did all the dry camping things that one does for saving water, knowing that we only had a few days back to long hot showers at home It’s easy to do for a short time, but of course a longer stay would require a bit more care. Our rig is small, without the huge holding tanks that the big guys have, so boondocking for us is limited to about 5 days reasonably. We could do more, but so far haven’t really needed to.

We returned to Grants Pass by way of a circular route back east to Lake of the Woods. I wanted to see if that campground was as empty as the camps around Howard Prairie and Hyatt Lake. Sunset Campground, where we have spent July 4th and have never been able to get a reservation to camp, no matter when I try, was half empty. However all the sites were reserved for the weekend. In the past, people usually reserve sites for two full weeks before the 4th in order to have them for that day. Crazy stuff.

We enjoyed our short camping trip thoroughly, driving a bit reluctantly back to civilization and regular life. It was great to get back to our sweet comfy home, but it is all the sweeter when we know that magical escapes like this one are so nearby.

July 28 2015 Taking a Break at Waldo Lake

Current Location: Rocky Point, Oregon

Current Temperature: 97 degrees F

I am NOT complaining about the heat. It is warmer than I can remember here in Rocky Point, but at the moment the WunderMap shows temperatures ranging from 106 to 109 in the Grants Pass area. That is NOT “feels like” weather, that is the real temperature. The Rogue Valley of Oregon is even hotter than notoriously hot Redding, California! Go figure.

In addition to being almost ten degrees cooler here in the trees at Rocky Point, the house is even cooler yet. I just returned from taking Mattie for a walk, a very hot walk, and when I walked into the house it felt as if we had air conditioning. So grateful for a well insulated, well built, cool and comfortable home. No air conditioning needed.

Insulation was the last thing on my mind on Tuesday morning when we packed up the MoHo and headed north to spend a bit of time in the mountains. Yes, I know, we live in the mountains, but camping at a lake at more than 5,000 feet elevation surrounded by mountain hemlock is a lot different than hanging out at home.

Our destination was the incredible Waldo Lake, Gem of the Cascades. Waldo isn’t far from where we live, and is just a short 13 miles north of the Highway 58 route that we often travel on the way to Eugene. However, as beautiful as it is, the reputation for heavy mosquito infestations keep us from camping there more often. According to the website, Waldo campgrounds are barely habitable until after mid-August and into September, and then the snow can fly as early as late September.

We found that out the hard way the last time we camped at Waldo, during the latter part of July back in 2010. It was a wonderful, albeit short stay, and both of us still laugh about the heavy clouds of mosquitoes surrounding us as we attempted to enjoy the beautiful lake. I wrote about that visit here.

The most wonderful aspect of Waldo Lake is its protection from gasoline engines. Only electric motors are allowed on this lake. The water is incredibly pure and crystal clear. Because it is a snow fed lake, and is surrounded by rhyolite and pumice, there is nothing to contribute to the growth of algae or murky water. It is wonderful to be near such a large beautiful lake without the sounds of jet skies and motorboats. Obviously, it is a very popular kayaking and sailing lake. There are so many places where fast boats are allowed, I am grateful that there are a few places like this for those of us who like the quieter pursuits.

Waldo Lake view from the amphitheater at North Waldo Campground The beauty of the place is so enticing, we decided that since we needed to travel once again to Eugene, we should go a day early and make an attempt at warding off the mosquitoes long enough to at least enjoy the lake for a little bit. I am not yet at my 90 day mark for healing from my surgery, the magic day when my lifting limit increases from a maximum of 5 pounds to 20 pounds. Mo refused to even think about taking the kayaks until I got the Ok from my surgeon.

I couldn’t imagine being at Waldo without my kayak, but it turned out to be one of the most memorable overnight camps we have ever spent.

Arriving late morning to a quiet campground with many open sites, we were amazed to discover that there was not a single mosquito in sight, nary a one, nowhere. We set up camp, parked in a nice open breezy site to ward off the supposedly ever present little beasts, and opened the doors to fresh mountain bug free air.

A few days before our visit, a cold front slipped through this part of Oregon, and I remember seeing temperatures in the high 30’s on the east side of the Cascades. Maybe the little stinkers decided to go south.

Our afternoon was filled with fresh, cool air, and skies so blue they looked almost electric. I pulled out the no nitrates/ no sulfates, whatever uncured bacon we found at Costco last week, sliced some fat tomatoes and we feasted on luscious sandwiches piled up with our fresh garden lettuce.

We decided that it was time to hike the Shoreline Trail. Not all of it, of course, but as much as we could manage in an afternoon. I knew that the Taylor Burn had decimated much of the land north of the lake, and that we probably wouldn’t make it all the way west to where the trees were still intact.

Still, it was a great hike, in perfect temperatures, with gorgeous views of the lake that would have been otherwise hidden by the deep hemlock forest if not for the burn.

There are many ponds tucked among the rolling slopes above the lake, and the trail is never really too steep or rocky to be enjoyable.

The wildflowers were sparse on the eastern edge, but as we walked west, and the landscape showed a bit more moisture, we saw more and more flowers blooming among the old burned stumps from the fire in 1996 that burned more than 10,000 of forest on the northern edge of the lake. Fireweed and pussytoes were the most prolific flowers, but there were a few others tucked away, and many sedges along the ponds.

Shrubs were dominated by willow and a few mountain ash with bright orange berries, and the regenerating trees were mostly mountain hemlock and red fir or subalpine fir.

It was Mattie’s first real hike, and she managed to keep up with us fairly well. Watching her trot along with those short little legs made me realize that she had to go at least six steps for every one of ours. Here and there, among the snags, we found old ponds and standing water. Good enough for Mattie, although something in the 4 inch deep water scared her back out of it after taking a drink.

In less than 3 miles, we found a side trail leading down toward the shore and enjoyed a beautiful break in the crystal clear cool waters. Mattie is still learning to go into the water, and it was exciting to work with her and get her to actually retrieve a stick in belly deep water.

Fun for us and cooling for her before we began the trek back home. The hike was 5.7 miles, and on the way home, Mattie saw a strip of snag shade across the trail and decided to instantly flop down and rest. That is when I knew that maybe we shouldn’t try to take her on more than a six mile hike on a sunny day in the mountains.

Waldo Lake near the swimming area After we got back to camp and rested a bit, it was time to go back beyond the boat launch to the swimming area. I so love swimming in crystal clear water with a clean sandy bottom. But oh! that water was COLD. I managed to jump in and swim a bit, and then after warming on the nearby rock, I jumped in again and swam part way across the narrow channel to one of the islands.

I was probably in the water a total of ten minutes at the most. Wish I had a photo to prove it, but we didn’t bring the camera along for our swim.

Back again at camp, Mo built a fabulous campfire and I heated up some leftovers I had planned for dinner before pulling out the marshmallows. I have no idea why I do that, I don’t even really like the marshmallows, I just like to roast them.

Finally, as evening progressed, the little no seeum’s found us and we decided to retreat into the motorhome.

The next morning, while it was still early, we walked the opposite direction on the Shoreline Trail toward Islet Campground where we had stayed in 2010. It is only about a mile and a half between campgrounds along the trail. Still, even early in the morning, there wasn’t a single mosquito to bother us and the no see um’s were nowhere to be found either.

A lovely breeze accompanied us as we hiked out on the Islet Peninsula where we tried to hike five years ago and were run off by mosquitoes. I have no idea why there were none on this most magical trip. I have no idea if they will hatch again before the fall frosts.

When we turned around to walk back through Islet Campground, we checked out our previous campsite, and then saw two little dogs that looked an awful lot like Mattie. Walking by, the two women who belonged to the dogs came over and asked if Mattie could be off leash and play.

What a time the three of them had! Their dogs were also Rat Terrier mixes rescued from a shelter. The women told us about a place near Portland along I-84 that is a 1,000 acre dog park. I guess we will have to find it someday.

By the time we got back to camp and ready to pack up, Mattie was in her perfect travel dog mode. She loves the motorhome, and always settles right down when we leave, usually in my lap or Mo’s depending on who is driving. As the day progresses, she will retreat to her bed on the floor, but she is never a problem while we are moving along. How lucky we are to have chosen a dog who likes being in the car or truck or MoHo especially!

If you would like to see the rest of the photos of our time at Waldo Lake, a link to my SmugMug Gallery is here.

On Wednesday, we left the campground by ten and were in the parking lot at the Eugene Valley River Mall before noon. In plenty of time for my doctor visit. The temps were already getting hot, and we turned on the generator and the air, with plans to settle in for the afternoon.

UhOh. The generator rumbled to life and then within a few minutes, it rumbled right back into silence. No generator. Mo tried a few things, but while she was messing with it, I was calling local RV parks! In plenty of time for my appointment with exactly one minute to spare, we managed to relocate to the Eugene Kamping World RV Park in Coburg, full hookups, TV and air conditioning! The price was fine at $33 bucks and some change. Armitage was nearby, but neither of us wanted to try to get in or find it. This was quick and easy and served our purpose just fine.

Later that evening, after my successful three month surgery checkup, we drove back to the east side of Eugene to have dinner with Phil and Joanne, friends of mine since 1977, that are now friends of ours.

It was the first time we had been to their new home, and Joanne had a great meal waiting for us. Their son Michael and his sweetie joined us for pre dinner snacks. It was great fun seeing him, and finding out that he is to be a new daddy in January.

I tried to get photos, but the new camera didn’t do quite what I expected, so these photos are a bit strange, but I wanted to put them here anyway, in honor of the lovely grilled salmon with homegrown basil pesto, quinoa and mushroom pilaf, and wonderful salad. Joanne made a blackberry cobbler for us as well, a gluten free/vegan recipe that she was trying out. It was interesting. Sorry Joanne, I probably won’t be going gluten free any time soon.

We left Eugene the next morning, grateful to be heading back over the crest of the Cascades as the record breaking heat wave was to hit the Willamette Valley and Eugene.

In the next few days we are expecting exciting company from Harris Beach/Brookings, so I am grateful that the heat wave is predicted to dissipate a bit.

In the mean time, the Blue Moon is set to rise over the lake at 8:32 PM and I plan to be there to enjoy it!

(Later: seems as though the Blue Moon was not mine to see. Dark and loud, but dry thunderstorms rumbled over our evening skies last night, and the power went down as well, but not a drop of rain)

It is Rhodie time on the Oregon Coast!

Current Location: Harris Beach State Park, Brookings, Oregon Sunny and 60 degrees F

If you try to plan a trip to the Oregon Coast to catch the rhodies in bloom, the season will almost always surprise you. Either it will be too late or too early, with lots of buds and no flowers, or lots of dried up blooms. With no plans for seeing the famous flowers, or even a thought of the magnificent rhododendrons on our minds, we decided it was time to get “home” again to our favorite Oregon Coast beach.

The four hour drive from home in Rocky Point, through Grants Pass, and west on the winding Highway 199 along the Smith River is magnificent any time of year. This time, however, the closer we got to the coast, the more the steep hillsides were cloaked in gorgeous wildflowers. We have traveled this route many times, but I don’t remember seeing quite the profusion of flowers that greeted us yesterday morning on our trip west.

Oregon boxwood shrubs were tipped in right red foliage that looked just like flowers, and the rocky cliffs were covered with blue penstemon and carpets of low yellow native iris. The closer we got to the Jedediah Smith redwoods, the more flowers we found. Mo was driving, the camera was buried in its case and Jeremy was hugging my shoulder as he likes to do when the road is rough and curvy. No photos of the brilliant clouds of pink flowers on wild rhododendrons that were sometimes more than 20 feet tall.

Neither of us could believe that it has been more than five months since we settled in to Harris Beach, with our last short trip back in early December before we left for the winter for warmer? southern climes. The beaches were gorgeous in Texas and Florida, but as anyone who has seen it knows, the Oregon Coast is unmatched for wild rugged beauty, at least in the US. For us, even the famous coast at Big Sur along Highway 1 in California isn’t as seductive, and definitely not as accessible as our beloved Oregon Coast.

We left Rocky Point in the rain, and were greeted with a mixture of hard rain, sleet, hail and snow as we drove over the pass toward Medford. It was cloudy most of the way west, and with rain predicted for our few days at the beach, we were fully prepared to hole up in the MoHo and listen to the rain, play cards and do mostly nothing. We purposely didn’t bring the bikes or the kayaks with plans for some real R and R, and a respite from house and yard work that has dominated the last month.

Surprise! Not only are the rhodies blooming, but there hasn’t yet been a sign of a cloud in the sky. The ocean is blue and gorgeous, the temperatures are in the low sixties during the day and high 40’s at night.

With the view sites along the front row completely full, we settled into spot A30 and paid for four nights. Didn’t seem too bad, although it was a fairly open site and the playground was right behind us. We were also on a main walking route to the restrooms and the laundry and both last night and this morning were well entertained by the various kinds of people walking past.

For supper, the Chetco Seafood Company was our local fish and chips choice, and it didn’t disappoint. In fact, I talked to the owner and snagged some fresh cod and California halibut filets which he vacuum sealed and flash froze for us to take home to Rocky Point. Yum!

It was good to sleep in the MoHo again, after a month of lots of space and a big bedroom and a bath more than 10 feet away, it was fun to be in the cozy space with just two steps to the bath. Funny. As we settled in for the evening, a very tall class A parked next to us, with a clear open view of our huge yard and the firepit. Hmmmm.

This morning we went for a park walk, oohing and ahhing over the rhododendrons in the park and the surrounding neighborhoods, and found a nice space open along Row A, but toward the quiet back corner of the park. It looked inviting enough that we talked to the camp host about moving, and in a matter of moments we were slide in, jacks up, awning in and moved to the new spot. We can still see the ocean, just a tiny bit, but things here are much quieter and more private.

Interesting, as we were moving, a front row ocean view site came open and we declined. In spite of the view that we have enjoyed many times, the front row now has a lot more exposure since the park has cleared brush around the sites, and there is traffic from both the park entrance road and the main road through the campground.

Mo spent a few days last week getting our new VuCube working at home, and even though we had cable here at the site, she thought it might be fun to practice setting it up. Fun wasn’t the word, with all sorts of strange glitches that we still haven’t quite managed to figure out keeping the thing from working correctly. There were too many variables, and that became our statement for the day. In the end, it almost worked, but then we realized that the signal was getting interference and that was probably the main issue. Trees. For now, it is packed away again and we will fiddle with it out in the desert somewhere to limit some of the variables. It did keep us at home for the day, which was the original goal.

After a great chicken stir fry supper, we are relaxing a bit before heading for the beach for a sunset stroll. Unlike Florida beaches, getting to the beach here requires a bit of hiking down and then back up the steep paths that lead down to water level. Last night we walked to the overlook and watched the beach walkers below. Plenty of time to hike to the beach ahead in the next few days. A trip to Loeb Azalea Gardens, and who knows what else will keep us occupied.

Of course, I do hope that we manage more sitting, reading, and napping than we usually manage on a trip to the coast. Maybe if it rains in the next few days it will encourage us to actually lie around and do nothing except watch the sky.

Six Days off the Grid

Waking early Wednesday morning, I looked out over Medicine Lake, smooth as silk, without a ripple anywhere.

The skies were clear and only a faint bit of smoke remained on the eastern horizon. Our days of doing nothing were about to begin with a meandering 3.5 mile loop around the perimeter of the lake.

Our campground site is at the upper mid right of the map above, the swimming beach is the far right marker, the best fishing hole is on the lower left on the lake and the Brownell Cabin in on the lower bottom left on the shore. The good bike trail goes to Little Medicine Lake on the upper left shore. Somehow slipping into a kayak in the early morning feels like nothing at all, no effort, just a silky glide across water so clear I can count fish and silence only broken by the cry of ospreys.

I don’t know how long we were out there that first morning, maybe a couple of hours, but by the time we returned to camp the wind had picked up a bit and the smoke was disappearing completely. The day began with french press coffee and tiny donuts before we went out on the water and waiting for a mid morning hearty brunch seems to work best for us on this kind of trip.

The day would have continued without much fanfare, but as we settled onto the beach for a bit of sunny doing more nothing, our neighbor approached us all full of conversation and questions. She wanted to know where we were from, where we got our kayaks, and if we wanted to join up with their kayaking group from the Medford area. Martha was a very gregarious, talkative, and friendly woman and by the time she left, we had exchanged emails and had plans to contact each other for a day on Recreation Creek.

Not long after that conversation, she and her friend pulled out of the site just next to us, number 43. Earlier, when we found out they were moving, I asked Mo if maybe we should relocate, and she said, “No Way!!” But after they left, and we walked over to the site, the very easy, not steep, and not rocky path directly to the beach from the camp spot changed her mind. Ok, let’s do it!

Within minutes we pulled in the slide and backed the MoHo down the 50 yards or so to the much bigger, much more level, much more private site even closer to the lake. The funniest part of all was later when I was reviewing my photos, I realized that we had camped in this site back in 2005. How could I forget?!? Rather than hooking up the trailer, we just rolled it down the hill by hand to the new site, and floated the kayaks over to their new beach..

So much for doing nothing! After getting all settled in again, I had to run around in a flurry trying to take photos of the new site to remember why we made the move. It was a great plan and for the next several days we said over and over how happy we were that we didn’t have to get up and down that rocky trail to the beach from 45. Funny, I think I remember saying yesterday that 45 was such a great site. Well, it is, but only if you can’t get into 43.

A bit later we were down on the beach again when another woman came up to us asking questions about the boats and our rig. Seems as though she and her husband were camping and were hoping to eventually retire and buy a small motorhome of some kind. Before long we discovered that her husband was the base commander at Kingsley Field back in Klamath Falls and she was some kind of retired air force officer who now had three kids. I swear this woman didn’t look a day over 35. I guess some people make all the right choices at the right moment. She talked about her travels in the world, her husband, being active duty parents, and all about how much they loved living in Klamath Falls. People in campgrounds are just so incredibly friendly.

It wasn’t long afterward that another couple moved into our vacated site 45, only they at least were camping with a tent. Next thing you know, they are coming down the trail asking about the kayaks. They were from San Francisco, at least that is what they said at first. When we responded with “Oh, where in San Francisco?” she said, “Pacifica”. Then when Mo said she had taught in Pacifica for 25 years, they started talking about driving Devils Slide and the new tunnel, and then it came out that they actually live in Montera, just a few blocks away from Mo’s ranch in Montera where she lived for that 25 years while teaching. We all laughed about how you just say “San Francisco” to folks you assume won’t have a clue where Montera actually is located. How does that happen anyway?

It turned out that Barbara and Ansel were a highly entertaining couple, with some crazy quirks and a LOT of stories that they liked to tell with gusto. They also had a brand new inflatable kayak and were fairly new kayakers and wanted some advice about where to go on the lake. By this time it was very windy and there was no way anyone was going out on that lake in a kayak. We knew there was a small window of quiet usually in the morning for silky boating and told them to be up and on the water by 7 if they wanted to take advantage of it.

We spent the rest of the day doing our usual nothing, which includes some reading, some sitting and watching the sky, throwing balls for Abby in the water, watching the lake, and eating. We used the Weber Q for our suppers and the days just seemed to run all together. I had taken the computer with me, thinking that I could at least write for the blog with the inverter or when the generator was on, but sure enough, I had forgotten the plug! I am having to remember all this several days later since writing with a pencil is something I just can’t seem to do any more at all. I didn’t even take photos for two entire days and the only way to remember what we did is to go back over the photos.

We kayaked every morning and some evenings, had a big campfire every night where I roasted marshmallows and filled them with little pieces of chocolate that would melt perfectly. We had great dinners, and wonderful big breakfasts that were closer to lunch and never bothered with lunches the entire time.

We went for short hikes up to the Glass Flow, rode our bikes up to Little Medicine Lake on the lovely bike trail. We tried to ride to Arnica Sink on the not so lovely bike trail that was deep sandy pumice mined with fat lava rocks. We turned around on that one and decided that riding on the road was much more fun.

The birds are always a highlight, and after a few mornings I actually recognized the two blue herons that flew from shore to shore. It is always a decision as to how close to get, with the rule being if the bird is uncomfortable and starts to look nervous, you are too close. I think I got too close to these herons. I felt guilty, and then would think, well maybe if I am really slow and still it would be ok, but it wasn’t, they flew away, and dang! I need a longer lens.

The lake is populated with at least a dozen ospreys, perched on snags on the east and west shorelines and always entertaining with the diving and fishing. We also saw one bald eagle on the west side one morning, and a couple of red tailed hawks and another hawk that I couldn’t identify.

I was surprised to see several vultures as well, as I don’t remember seeing them at this kind of high altitude before. There was one Great Egret in the meadow on the first morning, too far for a photo, and he wasn’t there again. Ducks were surprisingly few, with just a little group of young ones without a mother paddling along on the east side of the lake.

Mo and I don’t fish, but we had a great time searching for fish in the clear water, with some great success along the southwest shoreline where one of the springs comes up. Sometimes we could see six to ten trout, maybe 14 inches or so, swimming around beneath us. We also love paddling into the knotweed with the happy pink flowers standing up above the water and making for some great photos with my pink kayak.

On one of our days the winds blew so incredibly hard I decided to spend a large part of the day inside the rig knitting a luscious wrap that I have been working on for much too long. The sound of that wind was fabulous, and the clarity it brought to the sky was breathtaking. I loved it, even though it made it too wild on the lake to take out the kayaks or try to take a swim.

I completely finished reading a great book about cheese, and Spain, and slow food, and betrayal. It was written so well that I had to highlight phrase after phrase of beautiful words to remember. I highly recommend “The Telling Room”, by Michael Paternini. Reading that makes me feel like I have read something worthwhile is great. We even had time for watching a couple of movies in the evenings, with the inverter handling it just fine without having to run the generator. I laugh to remember that we had this rig for several years before we knew it would do that.

Finally on our second to the last day, the wind died down completely, and I managed to slip into that crystalline water for a great swim. Cold, but great. Barbara and Ansel came down the hill to join me, but neither one of them could manage to get all the way in. I probably wouldn’t have stayed in as long as I did if I hadn’t been trying to convince them to swim with me. The day heated up beautifully, but with the warmer temperatures and no winds, before long there was a bit of smoke in the air again. Nothing like Grants Pass a couple of weeks ago, but smoke nonetheless.

On our last morning kayak, we took our slow time meandering around the lake. While admiring the old historic cabin on the southwest shore, the owner came down to the shore to visit with us. I must say I haven’t had such a busy social life in a very long time! He regaled us with stories about the cabin, built in 1928 by his wife’s father who saved the life of the original owner of the property. When asked what he would like in return for saving his life, the man said, “If you ever sell the property, sell it to me”. Sure enough that is how he got it. Now there are three sisters who share the space with extended family who have memories of staying there as girls in the 1940’s. They live there 3 months out of the year and then return to Morro Bay in California.

He told us that the first trout were brought to the lake on mules in 1880 and by the 40’s there were huge browns in that lake that the girls remember catching. In the 60’s however, chubs were winning, and the Fish and Game decided to kill the lake and start over. Now the fish that are planted each spring are fairly well fished out of the lake with no big old boys left. The deepest hole in the lake is about 150 feet, but the rest of the lake is quite shallow. It was great to get local stories from the local folks. He even said we were welcome to hike up behind his place to Brownell Meadows but we will have to wait for the next trip to take him up on the offer. Besides, this was the camping trip for doing nothing and we were getting a bit carried away with all the somethings that we were doing.

When it was time to leave, once more the campground was very nearly empty, with only a few occupied sites even over in the busy Medicine Campground. Our Hogue camp was almost completely empty. How often can you find an empty campground on a lovely lake in the middle of August!?! We read on the campground sign that there was an RV dump nearby but turned the wrong direction and ended up going south on 49 instead of where we were supposed to go. As many times as we have been to Medicine Lake, I still needed to get out the map to be sure we were on the right road heading home.

Down from the Highlands, summer set in again, with temperatures rising ten degrees in as many miles and smoke thickening the air as we approached Klamath Falls. bummer. At least we got a nice break from it, and Rocky Point has enough thick forest to help oxygenate the air a bit. I just read that Janna and Mike tried to see Crater Lake this week. Such a bummer and bad timing. I an only imagine how disappointing it must be for folks who travel from all over the world to see the beautiful lake and its gorgeous blue. Ah well, Medicine Lake isn’t quite as blue, or as big, or as dramatic, but it was lovely and perfect and I am so glad that after five years we finally took our Medicine.

Medicine, or dropping off the grid into a Volcano

Medicine is a word of several meanings. As in, Take Your Medicine, or more beautifully, This Place Has Powerful Medicine. Medicine Lake is named for the second meaning, the sacred meaning, but the two seem to overlap here in the deeper meaning of healing, either body or spirit, and of course, both are connected.

Medicine Lake is a small lake in the bottom of a 4 by 7 mile caldera on the Medicine Lake Highlands near the Northern California border. This sweet little lake is just a couple hours drive from Klamath Falls, and yet I don’t often hear of people from Klamath traveling here. Most of the license plates are from California, with folks driving up the nice paved two lane road from Mt Shasta. It is a bit of a drive, off the grid entirely, so perhaps that accounts for the open campsites and quiet lake.

There are no hookups here, no cell phone service, water in the campground but not at the sites. We came ready to boondock for six days, with a full tank of fresh water and empty waste tanks. Generator use is allowed in the campground from 8 in the morning to 10 at night, but we tried to be considerate and except for one early evening movie when the campground was nearly empty, we only ran the generator for an hour or so in the morning to keep up the charge. We were careful and when we left, our tanks still had plenty of room to take on the extra six gallons of water we added with jugs and a funnel. Mo has a small solar panel and although it doesn’t support heavy use, it does keep the charge up throughout the day.

Medicine Lake Highlands has the distinction of being the largest volcano in the Cascades and the largest volcano in California. Unlike the dramatic peaks we are all so familiar with, Shasta, Lassen, Mt Hood and others, this volcano is a broad volcano with dacite and rhyolite lava and obsidian flows as recent as 1000 years ago spreading from the shield volcano for more than 30 miles in every direction. From Klamath Falls, the Highlands can be seen in the distance to the south, unassuming, appearing as a nondescript broad plateau.

Medicine Lake Highland’s volcanic area exceeds 200 square miles in Modoc and Siskiyou counties and encompasses portions of three National Forests including Modoc, Klamath and Shasta-Trinity. Over the last half-million years, volcanic eruptions on the Medicine Lake shield volcano have created a rugged landscape dotted with diverse volcanic features including more than 700 lava tube caves. Some of the most popular features include Glass Mountain, Burnt Lava Flow, Medicine Lake Glass Flow and Undertakers Crater. Medicine Lake has no known outlets yet the water remains clean and clear with inflows only from snowmelt, rainfall and springs.

Driving south from Klamath Falls through Merrill, home of one of the best quilt shops in Oregon, Tater Patch, we continued into California on Highway 39 to Alturas, turning west toward Tionesta 40 miles or so south of Tulelake. The road to Medicine Lake is well marked, but narrow, paved but very rough. Abby and Jeremy complained quite a bit about the thumping, bumping rough sounds of the regular seams across the road. I guess they are created to prevent frost heave on a road crossing soils thick with pumice deposits.

The road rises over 20 miles or so from the juniper sage desert at 3900 feet to high red fir and lodgepole pine forests at nearly 7000 feet elevation. We watched the temperatures drop from the mid 90’s to the high 70’s as we drove. The skies were clear and gorgeous, with just a bit of smoke from the California fires marring the blue. In the past few years, we have planned trips to Medicine Lake, changing our mind at the last minute because of fires and smoke. This time we decided to go anyway, because fires and smoke in the west seem to be a constant and if we wait for no fires, we may never get back to this favorite little place.

We decided to skip the tow car on this trip, instead hauling the boats and bikes in a small trailer. We have traveled here several times, and spent days wandering the forest service roads exploring lava flows, obsidian flows, and taken in the views from the high mountain fire lookouts. This time we intended to relax completely. Without the car, we wouldn’t be tempted to wander any farther than we could go on a bike or our own two feet.

We arrived on a Tuesday afternoon, to find one of our favorite sites wide open. There are three main campgrounds at Medicine Lake, with the first one a bit more open and a sign says not suited to larger rigs. We aren’t quite sure what that means, because the sites are quite large, but the road is narrow. The sites are also not even close to level. We could camp there in a pinch, but the second campground, Hogue, is our favorite. There are a few sites in the upper part that can accommodate bigger rigs, but our favorites down by the lake are a bit small and not level. Medicine campground is the third one in, usually busier with lots of room for larger rigs. The Headquarters campground is farther west on the gravel road beyond Little Medicine Lake, and is very quiet, open and usually empty because it is a bit of a distance from the lake with no lake views. Another place that would do in a pinch if you drove a long distance to camp and there are no reservations here.

Our site 45 has a gorgeous view of the lake, a nice big picnic table down the slope from the rig, and for some reason there are two additional rock firepits added to the big one that was here when we camped last in 2008. A rocky trail leads down to the water and with a bit of maneuvering, we got the boats down to the shore where we could leave them safely for the duration of our visit.

We settled in for a great afternoon of watching the water, watching the sky, playing cards, and I brought out a decidedly sinful and delicious supper of old fashioned hot dogs, baked beans and potato salad that I made the day before at home. The site has only a small drawback. It really is a bit more suited to tent camping than a rig, but we managed to get the MoHo leveled and pulled in far enough that the back end was off the camp road. It is times like these that we are grateful for our perfect length of 26 feet. We can fit most anywhere and yet still have enough room to travel comfortably for weeks or months.

Our sleeping area looked out over the camp road, but there was no one in the site across from us, and the road was quiet, so it wasn’t a serious problem. The night was completely silent, the moon was low and reflected on the lake and the stars were brilliant. I wondered momentarily about the next several days. No internet, no phone, no car. Just a book, a boat, a bike, and a chair. Ahhhhhhhhh.

Next: kayaking, birds, and social life at Medicine Lake