rivers – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

1-10-2014 Big Bend part 1

Current location: Corpus Christi NAS with 53 degrees F and 18 mph winds at 4am

I am sitting here this morning, listening to the winds buffeting the MoHo. At 3, we were wakened by the gas alarm going off indicating our power was down. I stepped outside to check, and everything seemed fine, with dim park lights here and there. I discovered that the wind had blown the power cord right out of the receptacle. Fixed it with a bungie and came back to bed after turning the power back to “store”.

Of course, the moon is almost full and reflecting off the water of Corpus Christi Bay, a rather amazing sight. There are also 8 to 10 foot fountains of sea spray that are illuminated by the moonlight. I felt the spray blowing this way when I went outside. We were warned about the sea spray and winds when we took this site on the edge of the park near the water. It is worth it for the view and the open spaciousness of the site.

Mo and I looked at each other in amazement as we ate our supper last night. It is rather incredible to go from the wild hot dry angular desert to the flat water filled landscape around us here west of Corpus Christi. Just one day of driving, and here we are.

But that isn’t supposed to be the subject of this post. I need to write about Big Bend, and let myself slip back from this moonlit sea spray filled morning to the warmth of the desert we left behind. I couldn’t sleep after the wind woke me up, and it was as much from the weight of the Big Bend writing waiting in my head as it was from the sound of the wind. So let’s slip back a bit to a few days ago when we first entered the amazing world of the Big Bend of the Rio Grande.

The sun was brilliant and the temperatures perfect when we left Davis Mountains State Park. In the cool of the morning, I wanted to get a few more photos of “downtown” Fort Davis, and in the process ran into a delightful gentleman, Jim, who was working for the county at the lovely courthouse, pruning some trees. We engaged in some conversation, and he told me more about the horrible fire that blew through here in 2011. He also told me that I shouldn’t go to Big Bend through Alpine as we had planned, but should go south on highway 67 to Presidio and travel the River Road east through Big Bend Ranch State Park.

MBZ had warned us that Presidio was a bit dicey, and I asked Jim about this, and he said, just don’t go into Mexico and don’t stop anywhere. Ok then. Trouble is, once we got to Presidio, the phone thought I was in Mexico and decided to stop sending me data for the maps. I had a paper map, but it was a bit worthless for actually seeing the proper turns, and suddenly the big entry into Mexico loomed up ahead, and I hollered, “Turn around NOW!” For some reason, I had completely forgotten the Garmin tucked under the seat. Duh. When the phones don’t work and the paper maps are too small in scale, the Garmin is quite helpful. Trucker Deanna always says, “Mom, we use all three all the time, phones, paper maps and GPS”. Of course. We managed to avoid getting in the entry line and turned around to find our proper turn east on Texas Farm Road 170.

Farm Road 170 meanders along the Rio Grande through another wild and untamed gem of this part of Texas, Big Bend Ranch State Park. We had no time to hang around here, but definitely enjoyed the dramatic views along the route, especially the deep canyons of the Rio Grande near the one rather serious “Big Hill”. The hill isn’t marked except for a sign about 15 miles west of it that says, “warning 15 percent grade 15 miles ahead”.

Following the river for miles and miles, it is easy to see that the international boundary is often just a mental concept. Here there are no fences and we didn’t see much evidence of Border Patrol in this area. The road winds and meanders, but wasn’t difficult for our rig, although the big hill was just a little bit hair raising, and thankfully quite short. The rock formations at the Hoodoos were beautiful, and the geology was fascinating.

We drove east into the town of Terlingua, later wishing that we had taken more time to explore it a bit, but we were intent on getting to our campsite on the far side of the park. We missed a four star attraction listed in our guidebook, the historic Starlight Theater at Terlingua, restored as a restaurant. We won’t make the same mistake again. MBZ had warned us about this, suggesting that we spend time on BOTH sides of the park, and next time we will definitely do that. And yes, there WILL be a next time.

Once we entered the park, the beautiful range of the Chisos Mountains dominated the landscape, but the route is mainly through the desert. Unlike the Sonoran deserts around Arizona, the Chihuahuan desert seems to have a lot more vegetation, with thick grasses between the prickly pear and creosote. The Chihuahuan Desert is the largest desert in the Americas, extending almost to Mexico City. Creosote and agave are the main indicator plants and there are several species of prickly pear and yucca. I saw not a sign of a saguaro, so common in the Sonoran Desert around Tucson. Most of the moisture comes as summer rains, with a bit more precipitation than in the Sonoran as well.

Panther Junction (at the intersection of the main park road 118 and road 395 east to Marathon) is about 20 miles west of Rio Grande Village, and is the location of an excellent visitor center. As always, we stopped at the visitor center for maps, orientation, and information about the park. There are some excellent displays, a good selection of natural history books and park guides to help us begin to understand this beautiful, remote area. My favorite, the 3D landscape map, was big and very helpful with orientation. I find that these maps are a bit less needed in the days of google earth, however, since I now can cruise an area in 3D on the internet and the imagery is a bit more detailed. Still, I love that the parks have these big map models.

We arrived at our campground early enough in the afternoon that we had time to do a bit of exploring around this far eastern edge of the park. As we knew, there are no dogs allowed anywhere except on pavement or dirt roads that can accommodate a car. Still, it was hard to realize that we couldn’t leave Abby behind in the rig, or leave her in the car while we hiked. Just wouldn’t do. Instead, we planned our explorations around unpaved road trips and a few short hikes.

There are two campgrounds at Rio Grand Village, with the national park campground with campsites without hookups, potable water at the entrance and a dump station. There is a large no generator zone, and a nice area with sites big enough for large rigs and where generators are allowed at certain hours.

Because we had no idea of the weather conditions for this trip, we opted instead for the Rio Grande Village RV park, basically a pavement parking lot with full hookups and WiFi from the small store and laundry. Gasoline and diesel are also available, and we were surprised at the reasonable cost for regular at only 3.65 per gallon. We have been in national parks where the prices are two bucks or more higher than the going local rate, so this was nice. We had no need to fill the rig since we had fueled up enough to take us through the park and back out, but we definitely needed gas for the baby car to fuel our off highway adventures.

Our first little trip took us just a few miles from the campground to Boquillas Canyon where there was a rest room at the parking lot and a sign marking the trailhead. It is just a little over a mile to the canyon, but the trail is “easy” if you ignore the rather steep and rocky ups and downs on the first part of the trail. I was glad for boots instead of Oofos, and those Keen Targha waterproof hiking shoes are a godsend.

Mo generously decided to wait in the parking lot with Abby while I did the hike, a decision she made a few more times while we were in Big Bend. Next time we come to this place, if our animals are still with us, we will board them in Alpine, the closest center where there is a pet boarding facility.

The Boquillas Crossing used to be a port of entry from Mexico, but after 9/11 the DHS closed it, along with all other small ports of entry in the park. You can see the little town across the river, and at the river overlook we found displays of beaded trinkets with cans requesting $6. per item for little scorpions and for painted walking sticks. Wherever we found the signs, the request was for money to support Boquillas schools. We chose not to buy, and yet I did think about it, even though the park insists this is completely illegal and they will arrest you if you buy and confiscate your contraband.

Below us, across the river, there were boats tied up and some horses resting under the trees, and someone called up to me as we stood there but I couldn’t understand him. His voice sounded friendly, though, and I am sure he was entreating me to buy something.

As I hiked up the trail, I found a few more of these little stashes, and at the entrance to the canyon, I saw a canoe hidden in the rocks on the Mexico side of the Rio Grande. Higher on the trail, looking down below to the river, I saw a man on a horse, and the trail, steep and rocky as it was, actually had horse prints and horse poop on it. Why do horses get to poop on trails and dogs are not even allowed to go there on a leash with a loyal pooper scooper in tow? I’ll bet anything that guy was from Mexico and had managed to cross the river somewhere to check his little can stashes.

The entrance to Boquillas Canyon was dim, hard to photograph in the late afternoon light, but it was silent and beautiful, with walls rising more than 1,200 feet above me. I love tall, tight canyons, love how they feel, and found out later that this canyon is one on a list of possible river runs that I would love to do someday. Probably not in my own kayak, however, since there are some rocky rapids that need a good river guide to navigate. Still, it is on the bucket list along with Santa Elena Canyon. That is tomorrow’s story, however.

When I got back to the car, Mo and Abby were contented enough, and we did figure out that we should have a book or two in the car for Mo while I wandered about. Mo and Abby go their exercise by doing six laps around the parking lot. One of the greatest little treasures that we found at the visitor center was a small book called “The Big Bend Guide” by Allan Kimball. We loved this little book, a great find for first time visitors, with down to earth explanations of the local routes, and what to do if you have only one day or three days or a week in the park. I highly recommend this book if you have never visited Big Bend.

We drove back to the main road, and then again turned off on a dirt high clearance road to find the Hot Springs. The road is only about a mile and a half to the parking area, and we had hoped that maybe there wasn’t anyone around so we could possibly explore with Abby. Instead, this was a very popular spot and there were several cars parked and lots of folks heading to and from the springs.

The area was once a large hot springs resort, with a bath house, motel rooms, and even a store and post office. The abandoned buildings and old palms only hinted at what a delightful place this might have been at one time. The sun was down, and the evening was cool in the twilight, so Mo decided to leave Abby for a short time while we walked the short distance to the springs.

The springs are 105 degrees F, in a small rock pool built along the Rio Grande, and look quite nice. However, when we arrived, they were filled with a couple of families, kids all happily playing and moms floating au naturel in the hot water. I really didn’t want to jump in with them, so I decided to wait for another time for a dip in the springs.

We ran into this multiple family again a couple of times, with Alaska plates on their RV. There were a LOT of people in that rig, but when we talked to them we found out that they were from Austin and had rented the RV. They were having great fun together, although a motorhome with 4 adults and 4 little kids might be a bit much. Whew!

We were happy to get back to our rig and eat the good supper of leftovers from our previous dinner. So nice not to have to cook when it is dark and we have had a very long day! With no telephone, but at least enough Wi-Fi to get some mail, we settled in and read all the literature we had about what we might want to do on our next full day in the park.

Big Bend is an International Night Sky park, with a commitment to keeping things dark and unpolluted with light. There are lots of references to seeing the Milky Way here, but our moon was already too bright and while the stars were wonderful, that gorgeous view of the Milky Way eluded me. I even got up in the middle of the night to check out the sky. Maybe it was because the elevation at the Rio Grande is about 1,800 feet and perhaps those great Milky Way views are at the much higher Chisos Basin.

Still, even in our small parking lot camp, the skies were dark and the night was silent except for some low voiced owls here and there. Loved it.

Tomorrow we travel the Scenic Route and find the magnificent Santa Elena Canyon

September 13 Hells Canyon

Currently in Rocky Point, Oregon Partly Cloudy and 45 degrees F

Funny, as crowded as the state park campground was, at night it was quiet and dark and I slept great. We decided that there was no need to go to Imnaha on this trip. Mo had been there before, and after reading Laurie and Odel’s very funny account about their trip there, we figured fried gizzards weren’t a big enough draw to get us to take the back way north to Imnaha. Another time.

Instead, we followed the Hells Canyon Scenic Byway on the northern loop from Joseph, east and then south to Hells Canyon Overlook. The scenic byway is worth the drive if only to stand high above the layers and layers of ridges and imagine the Snake River far below. Of course, you can’t see the river from the Overlook, you have to go to Inmaha to actually see the river from above. You could do as the women we found out there who had traveled from Portland to camp on the Imnaha River and then bike to the overlook. Not me! It was a lot of very steep uphill, and we saw one of the women walking her bike about 3 miles short of the top.

You could decide as we did to take the byway all the way to the mighty and magical Snake River and then turn north and drive the 20 plus winding miles to Hells Canyon Dam. In addition to the magnificent drive and the river that flows north through the deepest canyon in North America, we had a destination, a river trip. Seven Devils

We had a great time at the overlook, me trying to discern which ridge I camped on back in the 80’s when we were mapping the canyons. Then of course we had to try out the delay shutter feature on my camera, but it was too far down for me to get in the picture quickly enough. Made for some good laughs until the women on their bikes offered to take a photo of us together.

Hells Canyon Adventures does several different versions of a jet boat ride on the river, and we chose to just get a little taste with the 2 hour tour. We had called a few days in advance to be sure they were still running, and as luck would have it, we got a reservation for the 2PM run. River trip06

I have rafted a few rivers, and even did the Colorado River in a paddle boat a few years back. Six days from Moab to Hite Crossing, and a lifetime of memories. That is me in the purple hat, back in 1993, getting ready to paddle through “Five”, the one that dumped us. But that is another story. Being on the river in a jet boat isn’t quite the same, of course, but it was still a river, and still an amazing canyon.

Approaching the dam from the south, the road follows the eastern shoreline of Oxbow Reservoir, with several launch sites and a couple of small campgrounds. The campground at Oxbow was full, but farther up the lake there was plenty of space at another camp about midway to the dam, again with hookups and nice access to the water. The Original Hells Canyon Adventure Tour, South Entrance, leaves from the river just below the dam and downhill from the Hells Canyon Dam visitor center at the end of the road.

It was pretty hot, and shorts were the perfect choice for the day. I also brought along the Pelican Case to carry the camera, just in case something happened and we went down. Jet boat accidents are extremely rare, but I still didn’t want to lose my camera to that river. I needn’t have worried. There was only one Class 4 rapid to get through and our captain was an expert at negotiating the big rocks and holes trying to suck us up.

Hells Canyon is almost a mile and a half deep from highest wall to the river, deeper than the Grand Canyon, although the canyon walls are actually stepped and farther apart, so it doesn’t seem as deep when you are down in it. Still, no matter how I tried, it was impossible to get photos that depicted the immensity of the towering walls above us.

Our guide explained the rapid level rating system, talked about the building of the dam, and the fact that salmon don’t get past this dam. Built in the mid sixties, the dam has no fish ladders, and the salmon are stopped here. This entire issue of salmon and steelhead on the Snake River is controversial and if you are interested in reading about the complexities of the 3 Hells Canyon dams on the Snake River, this link is fascinating. The permits for these dams will expire shortly, and Oregon is still not on board for re-licensing because of the lack of fish passage. 9-12-2013 Hells Canyon Scenic Adventure

The run through the rapid was fun, but not at all scary in the high powered jet boat. Three big Cummins diesel engines are underneath the deck, and when one of the engines had an electrical problem, we still had two working well enough to get us back home.

We heard stories about settlers trying to make a life on the high benches along the canyon and above the river, and saw evidence of some abandoned homesteads. At the farthest point on the tour, we disembarked and hiked along the river to some pictographs that were supposedly created by the Nez Perce. Again, the pre-history of these images is a bit controversial, and there are several different stories about the people who made them and the time frame when they were done. I only heard what the guide said, “The Nez Perce did them more than 1,000 years ago”. Were the Nez Perce even a tribe 1,000 years ago?

The Nez Perce say their ancestors have been here for 15,000 years. Unlike some of the larger pictographs on the Columbia River near The Dalles, I couldn’t find much information on these images. Still, it was delightful to walk along the river and find them. Of course, once again I had on the Oofos instead of decent hiking sandals. Sheesh! I was planning a river trip and didn’t know it included a hike!

We didn’t see any bighorn sheep or mountain goats on this shorter tour, but we did see two different bear sows, one with a single cub and one with twins. Watching the young cubs frolic and jump around on the rocks was fascinating. As usual, there was one bigger cub who was more adventurous, and a smaller one who lagged behind.

Because of the time we spent watching the bears, and the bit of engine trouble, our trip lasted half an hour longer than the two hours allotted. That was fine by me, except we knew that we had that long climb back up the Hells Canyon Scenic Byway to our waiting motorhome.

Forgot to mention what we did with Abby on this tour day! Another reason for giving ourselves an extra day in Joseph before we went on the boat trip was that we needed to find a dog sitter. A bit of searching and a call to the vet in Enterprise yielded good recommendations for the Lin Lee Kennels in Joseph. They are only open in the morning and evening, but when we picked Abby up the next day she seemed completely happy. The owner said Abby just followed her around the entire time she was there. IF you are in the area and want to do something that isn’t dog friendly, this is the perfect solution.

Since it was getting late, we decided to stop at the one open establishment that was between the canyon and Joseph on our route. Hells Canyon Inn is anything but fancy, but we landed on the Thursday taco night so dinner was OK and the price was bearable. When we pulled into Joseph in the dark at nearly 9PM we were glad we didn’t have to try to find dinner in Joseph or cook something up at home.

More photos of our Hells Canyon Adventure are on google linked here

Tomorrow: the Wallowa Lake Tram

The Last of Wyoming

August 6 and 7 Falls Campground on Highway 26 west of Dubois, breezy, in the low 70’s

It’s breezy at the moment, and the vertical mountain cliffs north of the campground are a bit clearer than they were when we woke this morning. Smoke from the fires in Montana and Idaho are finding their way toward us again and dimming the brilliance of the sunshine. I am sitting in the shade by the unlit campfire while Mo splits kindling for tonight. Tee shirt and shorts are the order of the day. The sun is warm but the breeze is just chilly enough that the shade feels wonderful.

When planning this trip, I hoped to find something along the way between Thermopolis and the tourist busy part of the highway around Jackson Hole. Streets and Trips led to this Shoshone FS campground and we took our chances without a reservation. Then I read RV Sue’s account of her time both here, and at the Brooks Lake campgrounds five miles north, and I knew the choice would be a good one.

It has been a peaceful stop, even with the daytime sound of traffic moving west toward Yellowstone and the Tetons. The rally at Sturgis is now in progress, so the roar of motorcycles has dimmed to just an occasional rumble. After our hot evening in Thermopolis, (yes, I still have to write about Thermopolis, the Bighorn Mountains, the Medicine Wheel, Buffalo, and the Little Bighorn Battleground!) even the A loop seems uncrowded to us. The plans were adjusted a bit yesterday so that we could stay here two nights and have a full day to enjoy the last of the Wyoming mountains.

Yesterday was a short trip, only 155 miles or so between Thermopolis and this park, with a Wal-Mart stop at Riverton in between. Some parts of Wyoming are simply breathtaking, but other parts seem like long stretches of a landscape only a geologist could love. When we reached Dubois, the mountains again lifted to the west. This part of the west gives full meaning to what John McPhee described so well in “Basin and Range”.

I thought of RV Sue in the laundromat, telling her great stories at the only place where you can get any kind of internet. We haven’t had a decent signal in several days now. We don’t even have a cell phone signal here and in the park in Thermopolis, the phones wouldn’t work at all and the MiFi struggled along with a single bar.

We decided that even though loop B was completely empty yesterday, we wanted electricity, and so entered loop A hoping for two sites together. Two sites appeared, and just in time, since the two rigs following us were hoping as well. I think this loop filled up last night, but when we went walking in loop B it was still empty.

Nancy and Roger and Mo and I are still enjoying or tandem travels. This is new for us, since we usually travel alone, but it has been working out just perfectly. Mo and I are somewhat the tour guides, with the responsibility of planning the routes, looking for gas, choosing the overnights, deciding how far we can go in a day. Whenever I ask Nancy or Roger if they have a preference, their answer is invariably, “Whatever you two want is fine with us”. Talk about easy!!

We have been sharing our evening meals, with most of them a joint effort, and now and then we do the big camp breakfast complete with hash browns and toast. Tonight is steak night, and I’ll bring the salad, Nancy does the Texas toast and we each cook our steaks. Roger even has a pair of titanium sticks for cooking marshmallows. They don’t get hot at all over the fire and I have some of those huge camp marshmallows left over from who knows when. I don’t even like marshmallows, but still love to do the campfire thing.

We walked around the campground last night, took pictures of the waterfall, and spent a lot of time laughing at the dogs while they played in the Wind River that winds through the campground. Jeremy really enjoyed this spot as well, since it was open and spacious enough that I could let him run around outside on his own. He is really so good about it, but every once in awhile he decides that he is NOT ready to go in and will go under the rig and laugh at me.

Today we decided to take a leisurely drive (five miles of very washboard road) up to Brooks Lake for some kayaking and hopefully to hear more stories about the mama grizzly and her two cubs that have been hanging out there. Mama is gone it seems, at least the camp host Richard hasn’t seen them in a couple of weeks. We also discovered to our dismay that in order to launch our kayaks in Wyoming, we are required to have a Wyoming boat sticker and an additional invasive species sticker for each boat. A bit too expensive for one afternoon of kayaking.

Instead we parked at the boat launch area and wandered off toward Jade Lakes and enjoyed the part of the trail that borders Brooks Lake. We thought better of hiking the four miles round trip to the top since we were in our kayak sandals with the dogs and had no bear spray and no water. It was a pretty walk, and at the time we didn’t know that mama bear wasn’t around, so we were a little nervous now and then as we approached buffalo berry thickets.

It feels great to slow down a bit, and this will be our last day in cool, timbered mountains. Mo built great campfires, surprising that they are allowed in this kind of fire season, but the fire circles at this campground are especially nice, with strong iron grates, and a space beneath the fire box to store kindling.

It has been wonderful to have enough space to let Jeremy outside to explore the campsite and play with Jackson, his new found best buddy. Jackson loves the kitty and will lick Jeremy’s ears and follow him everywhere he goes. Abby isn’t as affectionate with Jeremy, and since Jeremy grew up with dogs, he misses that interaction. He often snuggles up to Abby and she looks at us saying, “really?!”

Tomorrow we will again have internet access, television, and probably traffic. Twin Falls is next on the list.

August 30 Tuesday Fellow bloggers are FUN

I follow a lot of RV bloggers, and have learned so much from many of them. Of course I have favorites, but I certainly don’t plan to publish a list! Most bloggers have something wonderful to say and interesting to report at one time or another, and in spite of my personal favorites, many of them could be a favorite for a day at least. Donna K and Russ just happen to be pretty high on that list, and are favorites almost every day. With their location just north of us in Eugene, I knew that we would eventually get to meet each other.

We had a leisurely morning at camp, and were especially glad that we had packed up all the outdoor chairs and rugs the night before since the morning was once again damp and misty. The RV dump at Silver Falls is at the far north end of the park, a few miles from the campground, so we hooked up the baby car and traveled that winding road one more time to dump, and then one last time to travel back south toward Salem and I-5.

I called Donna to confirm our ETA and we continued south on the 5 toward Eugene. It was an uneventful journey, and I had both a printed map from google and the iPhone tracking where we were and where we were going. We had agreed to meet at a pizza parlor on 126. Business 126. The exit east toward Highway 126 is actually on the freeway. I kept looking at the map wondering why in the world it was navigating us so far south and told Mo, “What the heck, take the 126 east to Springfield.” Less than a minute after the turn I saw my mistake, and the phone rang at the same time. It was Russ. “Hey, we just saw the MoHo turning off on 126 and that is the wrong turn!” I lost a bunch of points as main navigator in that moment and we laughed together on the phone while Russ told us how to cross Springfield from our new location and get back to the pizza parlor.

I think it is really amazing how well you can know someone you have never met from their blog and their comments on other blogs. Russ and Donna were exactly as I imagined them, fun, kind, friendly, honest, and lovely people. And funny! We laughed a lot together as we talked RVing, blogging, Oregon, and our families. Thank you for the pizza, guys, and the wonderful visit! I am looking forward to all of us getting together again when Russ and Donna head toward our part of the world. Russ was actually raised in Klamath Falls, and I found out that Donna and I grew up at about the same time within miles of each other in the Southern California world. In fact, I keep wondering if Donna maybe went to the same church camp I went to in Idyllwild, California.

Another fun little resource for me happens to be Facebook and now Google Plus. Laurie (Semi-True Tales) and I are Facebook friends, and even though she hadn’t yet blogged about her travels along the McKenzie River, she had posted a photo on Facebook of the lovely falls. Mo already had suggested that she wanted us to take a different route home over 126 to Sisters. I got out the Gazetteer map for Oregon and perused the route looking for waterfalls, and sure enough there was a trailhead with two waterfalls right near the road.

The drive was beautiful, with a stop at another small donated state park along the river for a walk before we passed through small towns and tiny communities. Not long after the road starting rising to the pass we came to the parking area for the falls, and with an amazing coincidence, the lone space for an RV was empty, even though there were many people parked in the lot. We took it, turned on the fan for the cat and were thrilled that we could hike with Abby on a leash.

By the time we arrived, it was mid-afternoon, and we did want to get home before dark, so we opted for the shorter hike on the east side of the falls. Laurie’s photos of the falls are from the longer west side hike and she has some very interesting information about the formation of the falls and the McKenzie River on her blog. Check it out here. I kept looking at Laurie’s lone photo thinking this had to be the same waterfall. Sure enough, when I arrived home later Laurie had posted her wonderful account of their hike and it was the same place. Thanks, Laurie, I might not have known that the stop was worth finding if I hadn’t seen that photo.

When I got out of the rig, I could immediately smell the huge falls. So much water! The forest was damp and dark, and the elevation was high enough that I didn’t see a speck of poison oak, bane of the western slope of the Cascades as well as the Sierras. The trail was excellent, with lots of steps, some roots and rocks along the way, but only a mile and a half to the lower of the two falls. I would love to return sometime and do the entire hike. It was lovely.

We continued north over the pass and entered into the area decimated by the huge B&B Complex fire in 2003. There are now fire interpretive signs at several turnouts along the way that explain the biology of fire in the western forests. We pulled into one just over the pass to see smoke south of us in the Sisters Wilderness near Mt Washington. As we continued east, the smoke darkened the skies over Bend from the huge complex of fires ignited in Central Oregon from lightning the previous week.

Mo’s brother Roger lives south of Bend in LaPine and we just couldn’t go by without stopping in for a visit. When I called Nancy, it was close to suppertime, but she said, oh yes, come on right now! We didn’t want to eat, so we all sat around and talked about RV’s and travel and good beer. Roger and Nancy just returned from a big RV trip to eastern Oregon and their stories of the nightmare of driving their big, older, wide-body Class A were scary. They actually lost brakes on a steep hill and ended up leaving the rig in Enterprise and sleeping with their kids and grandkids in their trailer.

They spent quite a bit of time in the MoHo with us, asking questions and checking out our smaller rig, making lots of noises about how it was time to downsize. The next day we got a note from Roger saying they bought a new rig in Bend, about the same size as our MoHo. I am so happy for them, especially for Nancy who was the one having to ride in the scary passenger position with all that glass overlooking the cliffs and seeing that back wheel go over the white line on the right side of the road. I hate that! Things should be easier for them now.

When we finally arrived home in Rocky Point after our long meandering day, it was 9 pm and dark out. Driving down highway 97 in the dark from Chemult is one of my least favorite rides, there are deer everywhere. We were spared any big scares, however I was sure glad when we finally turned into Easy Street.

The rest of the photos are linked here

August 29 Monday The Dahlia Festival

Seems as though there is always some kind of festival going on during the summer months. Usually named for a flower, a fruit, or a vegetable, these festivals are really worth the effort. The Garlic Festival in Gilroy, California and the Asparagus Festival in Stockton are some down-home country festivals that got completely out of control. Thousands of people crowd the hundreds of booths and the original concept is lost. Can you count the Apple Festivals and Strawberry Festivals that are dotted all over the United States and Canada? A google search will open your eyes to that one!

Our short little camping trip north was inspired by one such festival. The difference with this one is that it isn’t a town or village thing, it is a chance for a local grower of dahlias to open their land for just six days a year to the adoring public. I had no clue just how adoring the public was until we arrived at the parking lot on Monday morning and found row after row of cars, buses, vans, and fields filled with folks admiring the dahlias.

Let me backtrack a bit. When we woke up Monday morning, the skies were cloudy and overcast and the temperature was in the low 50’s. A very light mist created a chilly, damp atmosphere. Remember I said I only brought shorts? Even though the forecast was for 85 degrees and sunshine for the entire week, I should have known better. Digging around in the few clothes I brought delivered my kayak pants, just in case, so I donned the kayak pants and the one sweatshirt I managed to pack, and I was ready for the day in spite of myself.

Even though I had no WiFi in the park, my iPhone had 5 bars and 3G, so I loaded up google maps to locate the Swan Island Dahlia Farm. It was just about an hour north in Canby, an agricultural paradise between I-5 and the mountains in the northern part of the Willamette Valley. We took our time, and when a sliver of lavender blue appeared in the distance, we ambled off the course to find amazing fields of annuals grown for seed by the Silver Falls Seed Company.

I used to grow annual larkspur for drying, and always had trouble finding seed that was an individual color not a mix. Lying in front of me were gorgeous fields of blue, lavender, pink, and rose, all perfect tall lush flowers of larkspur. Other fields were filled with godetia, one of my favorite little annuals, and other flowers that I didn’t quite recognize. In a way I was delighted to have subdued skies so the colors would show up more dramatically in the photos.

It wasn’t long before we arrived at the Swan Island Dahlia Festival, to join in the admiring crowds with their oohs and aahhs. Even little kids were getting into the thrill of seeing a truly amazing huge dahlia bigger than a dinner plate, amazed at the sensory overload of row after row of flowers bred in every conceivable shape and color.

Swan Island Dahlias is the largest and leading dahlia grower in the United States. The farm is now located in the town of Canby, in the rich soil of the Willamette Valley of Oregon. The farm was originally located in Portland, Oregon, with some buildings on Swan Island, which is where the farm derived its name. There was also a roadside stand in Sellwood, a suburb of Portland, so the business was known as both Swan Island Dahlias and Portland Dahlia Gardens at that time.

Swan Island Dahlias was moved to Canby, Oregon on rented land in the 1940’s. Around 1953, 20 acres of farmland was purchased in Canby, and the business was relocated to its present site. This particular bit of information was helpful because Mo grew up near the real Swan Island and picked beans there and she couldn’t understand why the dahlia farm in Canby was called Swan Island Dahlias!

If you have ever grown dahlias, you know how much work they can be. A difference in this part of Oregon is that the climate allows you to actually leave your dahlias in the ground over the winter and still have flowers come up in the spring. Where I lived, I had to lift my hundreds of dahlias one by one every winter, divide them and pack them carefully in sawdust in the root cellar. I treasured those flowers, believe me. So I was like all those little kids ooh-ing and aah-ing through the fields, thrilled and amazed, and especially excited when I would find an old friend variety among the bunch that was still in cultivation.

After we wandered the 40 acres of fields, we visited the big storage shed where one of the granddaughters in this family owned business demonstrated how to arrange dahlias while she talked about every possible cultural need. Many folks asked lots of questions and I was amazed at her knowledge. Grandpa passed away in 2007, but the family carries on with this beautiful family business.

Thoroughly overloaded with dahlia heaven, we were still in for a big surprise when we entered the indoor display, with three rooms of dahlia arrangements. I knew about the indoor rooms, but imagined something a bit like a county fair, with vases of flowers. What an understatement. The huge displays in the three large rooms were mind boggling, huge lush over-the-top craziness, piles of dahlias of every color and type. Hundreds of flowers in a single arrangement and literally hundreds of arrangements. It was a great way to pick your favorites and then go to the order desk to buy tubers for spring delivery. It’s a good thing I don’t have a lot of room or a long growing season, or I would have parted with a good chunk of money.

When we finally left the farm, the sun was warming up a bit and we ambled around Canby to explore the town and the area. We found Molalla River State Park, a perfect place for Abby to run in the off-leash dog area, with many trails along the river, but no overnight facilities. Just north of the farm, we found the Canby Ferry crossing the Willamette River and saving many miles of travel for folks going north. The ferry is free for pedestrians, but we just chose to sit on the bluff above the river and watch for awhile. I couldn’t help comparing the gentle crossing with the wild currents of the Yukon River at the ferry in Dawson City. This crossing took all of two minutes, and the cars lining up on either side of the river had at most a 5 minute wait in line. I love how these remnants of older times appear on the back roads of Oregon. Many of the old ferries have been replaced by bridges, so it was nice to see this little piece of history still in operation.

We traveled home through Silverton, with a stop at on of my favorite grocery stores for a few supplies. Back in camp, we decided we had time for some good biking on the beautiful trails and enjoyed the emptiness of the day use area even though the campground was still full to the brim. No one was swimming, and no one was out on the bike trails either, and the waterfall trail was nearly empty. Abby is pretty good at going along on the leash while we bike, but now and then she gets a bit excited and crosses over to the wrong side. We have learned that if I stay in front of Mo, Abby will try to keep up with me and not dawdle. The best part of this for Mo is that Abby actually helps pull her up the steep parts of the trail! I finally said, “My turn to have Abby, this hill is steep”! We switched, and I couldn’t believe just what a difference she made. Mush! Abby!!

Home to camp and grilled veggies and another beautiful campfire.

The rest of the dahlia photos are linked here

Tomorrow: We meet Russ and Donna and hike the Mackenzie River waterfalls