Something wonderful happens when summer finally arrives. The family is nearby, the porch is inviting, the kayaks are waiting, the flowers are blooming. Ahhh. It takes a long time for summer to actually show up in this part of Oregon, but when it does, it is worth the wait. While most of the country swelters and much of the west in on fire, here the mornings are still cool, the nights chilly enough for a comforter, and the daytime temperatures are in the mid 70’s. That is a Rocky Point summer.
My daughter was blessed with a three day weekend and if you remember how life is when you are all working full time, it takes a couple of days to catch up on chores at home. The three day weekend gave her a chance to play, and this time their version of play was a night at the Casa del Sol (our little cabin by the house), with burgers on the grill, marshmallows in the wood stove, and a morning on the water with mom. Somehow busy-ness gets in the way of recreation, and I have only had my grandkids out in the kayaks a few times. I love seeing the look on Hillary’s (who is changing her name to Axel but I still am not “there” yet) face when she gets on the water. She loves it. Melody kept exclaiming, “This is amazing, Mom, this is amazing!”. Grandson Elric chose to hang out at home in the cabin with dad and when Melody, Hillary, and I returned we were treated to a great late brunch cooked up by the son-in-law and grandson.
Good things do come to an end, and the kids headed back to town. Of course, for Mo and I it didn’t matter that it was Sunday night. Mo wandered off to a place we have wanted to camp for a few years and never remember. She called me and said, “Why don’t you meet me and Abby out here at Eagle Ridge, and maybe bring some supper?” Great plan again!
The last time we were at Eagle Ridge we still had the sailboat, and the winds were challenging as usual on these mountain lakes. Once again I remembered why we decided kayaking was easier than sailing! It is a lot easier to launch a kayak than a sailboat and even with all the paddling, it is a lot less work. Eagle Ridge is a Klamath county campground about half way between town and Rocky Point, maybe ten miles from home for us. There are a few primitive sites, no charge, no dump, no amenities except a great view of Shoalwater Bay, a launching dock, and sites right on the water.
The road to the park is about 4 miles of rough gravel and dirt, with not a few bumps, but the MoHo handled it just fine. No one else on the road to kick up gravel to worry about. Except for a couple of fishermen in the early evening, we had the place to ourselves.
Shoalwater Bay is on Klamath Lake proper, and the native algae that our lake has made famous was in evidence. Great kayaking, but probably not something to swim in. It is perfectly safe, but green. I think there is a Blue-Green algae company that is still making a good profit from Klamath Lake. I guess it is the reason our lake is so gorgeous and not surrounded by development. John C Fremont, back in 1857, said this lake wasn’t fit for a horse to drink. The algae is supported by all the natural phosphorus in the lake because of all the volcanic ash from Mt Mazama (Crater Lake) deposited several thousand years ago. The ambient phosphorus load is a big point of discussion about our lake, especially when trying to determine how much phosphorus is coming from the agricultural lands on the Sprague River which feeds the lake.
If you want to see incredibly clear blue water, just head up the hill to Crater Lake. Merikay and Craig are hiking there this week and have some really gorgeous photos of all that blue clarity. Notice, however, that all that clarity doesn’t do much for the water birds. On the other hand, here on Klamath Lake, water birds are everywhere. My favorite, and in my opinion the greatest of all, are the American white pelicans. They winter in Mexico and South America, but every year in March they return to Klamath Lake and the first pelican is the sign that spring is coming, much like the first crocus. They have a 9 foot wing span, and fly in formation much like fighter jets. I suppose it is my favorite part of kayaking around here, coming upon a raft of pelicans and watching them fly. I especially love the black wing tips that don’t show until they are airborne. I don’t often put in a slide show, but I do think this one is worth the band width. Check out the pelicans that we found on our paddle.
https://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf
We watched the sunset over the bay, and found enough old driftwood to built a nice campfire on the beach in front of the MoHo. I heard recently that Oregon is the only state in the west that doesn’t currently have any large active forest fires. Notice all that green grass and moist vegetation. Of course, it won’t be like that later in the summer, but for now having a campfire was delightful.
The night was silent except for the lake breezes and dark until the moon rose. Not a soul around, and just four miles from the highway. Nice.
Morning came slowly with Eagle Ridge directly east of us, and the dew was thick on the windows. We even had to turn on the furnace for a few minutes with morning tea as we watched the day lighten. Deciding that breakfast back home would be nice, we drove the few miles back to Rocky Point and cooked up a nice Sunday breakfast (even though it was Monday) watched the news, and got ready for our day, much refreshed and renewed by our little side trip.
The flowers are starting to bloom more and more, and I am enjoying the gardens now that the heavy labor of May cleanup has dissipated a bit. We had another load of juniper delivered, and it is piled high in the MoHo shed, so the big job of splitting and stacking has begun. July is about good weather and having fun, but it is also about getting in the firewood, spraying the deer repellant, and mowing the lawns.
We keep driving to Grants Pass, thinking that someday when we are “old”, we will settle over there out of the snow into a better growing season. I looked around last week at this beautiful place and said, “No”. Let’s just stay here till we have to go into a home somewhere. Worst case scenario, we have to pay someone to help now and then with the hard stuff. But every time I drive to town, or over the mountain to the “other side”, and then return I feel my breath quicken at the sight of that murky lake below in the sunlight. I am thrilled by the birds, the silence, the clear sunny skies, the forest. It is home. I guess that is why we have a motorhome after all, we can leave in the winter, we can travel if we want to, but we have home right here. I don’t want to give it up, even for a growing season that would let me have more flowers.
A parting thought here, one that came to me last week as we were traveling home from Oroville:
Sometimes, when riding in the MoHo, memories wash over me in waves. Maybe it is the vibration, maybe the changing scenery flying by. Somehow the complexity of my life flows by me like the trees rushing past, ephemeral, hard to catch, hard to track. I was once known for my phenomenal memory, spitting out dates like “Oh that was on a Tuesday in 1987”. Memories used to be like individual stories, with a beginning and an end, solid and real and separate. Lately, as life gets more and more full, and the memories begin to stack up, they are becoming more fluid, overlapping each other and flowing by in complex scenes, just as rich, but somehow with more flow. I wonder if that is what the old folks in the rocking chair on the porch are experiencing, that magical, colorful flow. I like it.
We took our own sweet time getting back on the road Sunday morning, leaving the MoHo on the northern side of Medford while we ambled up to Grants Pass for another look at property. Still hoping for that perfect site to build an RV shed and store the MoHo in the winter. While we haven’t found anything yet to fit the bill perfectly, we have a ton of fun exploring all the nooks and crannies of the small southern Oregon town. By the time we got home on late Sunday afternoon we felt as though we had actually “been away”. 
The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales 