Lodi, California; 7PM; clear and 60 degrees F
The snow started way back in early December, gave us a beautiful white Christmas, and didn’t let up. When it did finally stop, the temperatures plummeted to morning lows near zero for days in a row and clear sunny skies that warmed up to all of 12 degrees. It has been great fun. Mo and I did a lot of shoveling and plowing, managed to move almost 6 cords of free wood that we inherited from a neighbor, and kept the fires burning and the house cozy and warm.
I love winter. For awhile. I have had some knitting and quilting time, and truly enjoyed the ability to telecommute for work when the roads were icy and treacherous. I finished the queen sized quilt I have been working on for a few months and took it to the quilter. I almost finished a soft luscious shawl for Melody, just waiting for the hand dyed silk to arrive for the fringe. I almost finished a baby quilt that I will deliver next month to a beloved friend about to have a little boy. 
But enough is enough! Every night when we go to the hot tub, the bare feet freeze on the porch and the entire ten feet of distance from the back door until we are in the hot water is a challenge. No matter how beautiful the pristine cold snow looks outside my window, and no matter how warm and cozy we are with our wood stove, I am tired of it. I am ready to be somewhere warm. I am a bit tired of the thick fence of icicles between me and the view out the bedroom window.
Yesterday we loaded up the dog and the cat and and supplies for our escape and drove the two hours over the mountain to the cottage and the waiting MoHo. Instead of temperatures in the teens with clear skies, we drove into temperatures in the 30’s with icy fog shrouding everything. It is one of the famous temperature inversions that make the cold winter fogs of the Rogue Valley legendary. At the cottage, there wasn’t a speck of snow on the ground, but that icy fog is COLD! Mo said, “Are you complaining about the weather here too?”. Well, yeah, I guess I am. I am envisioning warm sunshine, not icy roads and steely gray skies.
We had most of the afternoon at the cottage to fiddle around a bit, and Mo decided to tackle the moldy cupboard wall that she wanted out of the kitchen. It kind of reminded me of those shows on HGTV where they take a sledge hammer to the walls. It is sort of fun tearing a house apart. While we were demolishing the kitchen wall, the roofer was outside tearing off the 4 different layers of roofing down to the rafters. The cottage was built in 1926, and wasn’t a high end build even then, but underneath all that stuff, we found what looks to be solid, beautiful redwood beams. Kinda nice.
We enjoyed a simple supper, a game of cards, and some evening reading before turning down the heat for the night. Saturday morning would come soon enough. 
This morning, the icy fog was still thick as we hooked up the MoHo and headed south of the Five. First, however, we decided to stop for a good breakfast at Elmer’s, close to the interstate onramp. It is the second time we have had breakfast there and it wasn’t a fluke. The restaurant is wonderful, with really great food. Again we split a breakfast of potato pancakes with applesauce, bacon and green onions, applewood bacon and great coffee. We were on the road by 9:30 with an estimated time of arrival at Flag City in Lodi around 4:30. I think we pulled in here at about 4:15.
The drive was lovely. Traffic was light, the I-5 surface has been redone since our last trip south, and once we were out of the Rogue Valley, the temperature inversions were behind us. By the time we got to Redding it was 65 gorgeous, sunny, luscious degrees. As we rolled down the road, both of us realized that the destination is almost irrelevant, it is just that desire to get rolling that makes it what it is. The Journey, not so much the Destination. Although I think the destination is nice, and we are looking forward to it, it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun to just fly south. It is the road. I may have said this before, but the realization always seems to come to me anew when we get back on the road. I love the movement, the changing scenery, the companionable silence of rolling down the road.
We covered an easy 375 miles today, rolling right through downtown Sacramento without a hitch. We took a chance without a reservation for Flag City, and when we arrived, in spite of a big group being here, there was a nice, level pull through waiting for us for $27. (half price) with our Passport America card. Tomorrow another day on the road, an easy 250 miles or so before we pull into the Orange Grove RV Park near Bakersfield. I am looking forward to those sweet oranges everyone keeps talking about. I really hope the cold snap hasn’t wiped them out!
Tag: road trips
The Big Horn Mountains and the Medicine Wheel
August 4
On the border between Montana and Wyoming, rising to the west of Interstate 90, are the Big Horn Mountains. Referred to locally as “The Bighorns”, and source of the Little Bighorn River, I still haven’t really figured out whether they are the Big Horn Mountains, or the Bighorn Mountains. Either way, bighorn sheep live in these mountains and they do have big horns.
Living near Spokane and Coeur d’Alene for nearly three decades, Interstate 90 was my most often traveled route east, and many times I passed these gorgeous mountains wishing I could see them up close. I once knew someone who traveled there yearly for hunting, and a very long time ago (in 1971) I traveled across the southern part on the way from Yellowstone to Rapid City. The memories stayed with me, and as we planned this trip I knew that I wanted the Bighorns to be part of our explorations of this part of Wyoming.
There is something mystical and mythical about this mountain range, considered sacred to the Sioux, the Crow, and the Cheyenne for millennia. The centerpiece is the Cloud Peak Wilderness, with a network of hiking trails to remote areas and alpine lakes. On this trip, I knew we wouldn’t have a chance to explore the roadless wilderness, but I planned for three nights in Buffalo so that we could at least explore the three scenic byways that traverse the range, US Routes, 14, 14a, and 16.
Unlike the Black Hills, created when a pluton of magma pushed up through the earth, the Bighorns were created during the Laramide Orogeny, the same geologic event that built the Rocky Mountains. Thousands of feet of sedimentary rock laid down when the landscape was covered by an inland sea were uplifted to build these gorgeous mountains.
The highest peaks are in Wyoming, and Cloud Peak itself is 13,167 feet high. Although there are many evidences of past glaciations, Cloud Peak is home to the only remaining active glacier in the mountain range. Much like the east side of the Sierras, the east flank of Steens Mountain in Oregon, and the east side of the Rockies, the east facing side of the Bighorns rises abruptly from the plains with dramatic, breathtaking views.
When we embarked on our Saturday morning journey, we were thrilled to see that the skies were completely clear all around us except for a low gray-brown pall far to the east. From our route north on I-90 toward Sheridan, we could see Cloud Peak sparkling in the morning sunlight. Highway 14 leads west across the northern part of the range from the small town of Dayton, climbing directly up from the foothills at Dayton, and the views were breathtaking. I discovered one of my favorite parts of Wyoming travel were the clearly marked signs documenting the name and age of each of the geological formations as we crossed them.
By the time we reached the Bighorn Visitor Center near the junction of 14 and 14a I felt thoroughly educated in the geology of the Bighorns. The visitor center was well done, with my favorite 3D maps of the mountain range, and many educational exhibits telling of the human and natural history of the mountains. Hanging over all, in the center of the dramatic timber frame building, were photographic panels of Cloud Peak, majestic in her isolation.
Somehow, in all these years, I had never heard of the Bighorn Medicine Wheel, and yet after talking about it I have discovered that many of my friends have been there. Having never even heard of it before this day in the mountains though, made it all the more special to me.
We drove the high winding road to the summit before finding the side road to the Medicine Wheel site and the head of the trail to the structure. There is a road that goes out there, unless you have a documented disability, you must walk the short 1.5 mile trail to the site. Later we laughed with friends who had been there, since it is one of those trails that seems to be uphill both ways! Maybe it is because of the elevation, who knows.
The walk is beautiful, with views in all directions to the plains to the east, the Wyoming desert to the west, and the canyons to the north. The Medicine Wheel is at nearly 10,000 feet near the summit of Medicine Mountain. It is built from stones gathered from the surrounding area, with a circular rim, 28 spokes extending from the rim to the center, and a series of seven cairns. It was built between 700 and 1200 AD and has been used since then by many local tribes for prayer, fasting and visioning. To this day, Native Americans come to the wheel to pray and for ceremonies, and the enclosure is hung with prayer flags of all sorts.
An astronomer studied the wheel in the 70’s and published his discoveries, showing that the cairns were aligned in the direction of the summer solstice sunrise and sunset. He also found that the rising points of the stars Sirius, Aldebaran, and Rigel are marked by other cairn pairs. More information about this interesting study of the wheel can be found here.
Walking to the Wheel, standing in the high place where so many others have stood, was an experience I won’t soon forget. I felt much as I did when standing at the Mnidra paleolithic temple on Gozo, and in the Grotto of St Paul on Malta, and in the Hagia Sophia in Turkey. Sacred places are made sacred for so many reasons, but this one felt as sacred as any I have visited.
Talking with the ranger at the site was fascinating. She enjoys her stint on the mountain, living there for the summer months. She told us that the day before had been fogged in completely in the morning and then smoked in completely in the afternoon. One more time we were blessed by the wind and weather gods for incredible views of an incredible place.
We lunched near the summit back on the highway, and then drove down the steep canyon to the dull brown of the Wyoming badlands before reaching Worland and the eastern route, Highway 14, back up over the mountains. The road climbs up the canyons to Shell Creek Falls, with paved trails and overlooks, lots of interpretive signs, and a visitor center. Much to our dismay, however, our dogs couldn’t even walk on any of the trails, and we found it hard to find a place where they could relieve themselves. Again, we appreciated traveling in pairs so that one pair could go see the falls while the other took care of the dogs back at the cars. By this time in the afternoon, the sun was hot!
Continuing over the mountain back to our junction near the visitor center gave us views of the rolling summits of the Bighorns, with broad areas of dark conifers accented by green high mountain meadows. We even saw a bit of the Cloud Peak Wilderness to the south. By the time we drove back down the steep east face of the range, it was late afternoon. All of us were too tired to even think of stopping in Sheridan, a town that according to everything I have read is a place worthy of its own visit.
Instead we ambled back to our camp in Buffalo, appreciative of the grassy open spaces, the big shady trees, and the comfortable sites that were far enough from the highway that we didn’t have a lot of road noise. I can highly recommend Deer Park Campground in Buffalo. Our three nights there were perfect for the time we had to explore the surrounding area. The Bighorns were on my bucket list, and I finally got to see them. There are a lot more photos of this great day including the Bighorn Mountains and the Medicine Wheel here.
3200 miles and It’s a Wrap
I am sitting in the office at home in Rocky Point watching the midges, mosquitoes, and moths slapping against the dark windows. We have been home for several days now and I am still not all caught up. It is hot here, in the mid 90’s today, and smoky. The Barry Point Fire near Lakeview and the Holloway Fire farther east in Oregon and Nevada have been raging since the 6th of August.
The heat is incredibly hard on the firefighters, with exhaustion setting in for the crews. I have been following along on Inciweb in addition to a nice blog and Facebook posts that someone from the Barry Fire is doing.
The heat is good for the tomatoes, though, and the vines are getting heavy with nice little green things that hopefully will turn red in the next two weeks or so, at least maybe before the Labor Day frost. The heat also is bringing out the frogs and every time I lift the top of the hot tub a little frog or two jumps out. So far no floaters at least.
Mo came into the office today smiling at me saying, “What’s the temperature at the beach right now?” Brother Dan and his wife Chere are over there and with temperatures here in the high 90’s and smoky skies ever since we got home, those cool, foggy days on the coast sound pretty nice.
Seems as though the beach is calling Mo and she brought the motorhome back up the driveway this evening. I have been working this week in addition to catching up on gardening chores and got the MoHo all spic and span on the inside and Mo shined her up on the outside. Finally finished that job yesterday…and now it’s time to load up again? But wait…I still haven’t written about half of the last trip we were on! Still, I have been missing the ocean too. Guess we will be pulling out of the driveway tomorrow morning early, sans Tracker. This time we are just going to hang at the beach, and Mo put the bikes directly on the back of the MoHo so we can enjoy those great bike trails around the South Beach State Park near Newport, Oregon.
Our Colorado Reunion Trip was a total of 3,212 miles, through Oregon, Nevada, Utah, Wyoming, Colorado, Nebraska, SOUTH DAKOTA, back into Wyoming, Idaho, and back home to Oregon. Yes, we finally got to put that dang South Dakota sticker on the decal on the back of the MoHo. I think people like to see the numbers, so here they are: 21 Days: fuel including about 500 extra miles of Tracker travel $1747.32, camping $280.12. We spent over 300 in groceries and 145 eating out which is unusual for us. Must have been all that family time and fun cookouts.
I managed to process most of the photos while we were traveling, and spent a couple of days after work here at home cleaning them up and getting them uploaded to Picasa. That Picasa/Google thing makes me just crazy. I hate that when I share photos directly from Picasa now, even using the actual copy/paste of the URL, when folks go look at them, they still get the Google thing. Yeah, sure, Google is nice enough, but the photos are so dang BIG and you can’t see nice little thumbnails the way I can on Picasa Web Albums directly. Ah well, progress I guess. Like that crazy looking Windows 8 thing that Rick keeps talking about.
I last wrote when we were all relaxed in the beautiful Shoshone National Forest at Falls Campground in Wyoming. I haven’t been that relaxed since, and our trip home was a blur of smoky highways and interstates, punctuated by the magnificent Shoshone Falls in Twin Falls, Idaho, and finished off with the long trek home through the deserts of Eastern Oregon. Even with the bronzy skies and red setting sun it was great to be home. The house was clean and cool and roomy, and my bed even more so.
Jeremy wandered around meowing at all the space, wondering where we went if we left the room. He loves the motorhome because we are close by and it takes him awhile to adjust to all the rooms in the house where he can’t keep track of his people. Aren’t cats supposed to be independent? Not this one! Ever since he was a bottle fed baby of three weeks old he has wanted to be as close to me as he can, most of the time. Now, of course, Mo’s lap is as good or better than mine. He adores her, even though she has only been around the last ten years or so. Ha!
Yes, yes, I will write about the rest of our journey, but it will be predated for the actual dates that we were doing whatever we were doing, and as a result probably won’t show up in the blog rolls. You will have to be a truly dedicated reader to find the posts when they go up. Ha! I have the list…Bear Lake Regional Park, Carhenge (you won’t believe this one!), Wounded Knee, The Battlefield at Little Bighorn, the magical, mythical Bighorn Mountains and the Hot Springs at Thermopolis, the Niagara of the West at Twin Falls, and the sweetest little desert hot spring around in the middle of nowhere in Oregon. Stay tuned…and to the people who read this blog and follow along and make comments…thank you. For being patient with me and for still reading.
It’s a Blur
Alliance, Nebraska. Cloudy and sputtering rain and wind and temperatures changing every few minutes.
Usually, when rv-ing somewhere, I have maps and photos to help me keep track of where I have been and where I am going. I write leisurely stories with pretty pictures that remind me of our tours and travels and have fun doing it. At the moment, at the Sunset Motel and RV Park in Alliance, Nebraska, the last four days are just one big happy blur.
We were camping in one spot, driving nowhere in the MoHo, and five rigs and several tents filled up the group site at Bear Lake Regional Park near Morrison, Colorado, within site of just the tips of the red rocks of Red Rocks Amphitheater. I took literally hundreds of photos, mostly of family, and many duplicates of group shots trying to get all those faces turned toward me and everyone’s eyes actually open. I have managed to keep up with photo processing, but I have a feeling that the Verizon signal in this remote little Nebraska town isn’t exactly photo friendly.
I did think it might be nice to throw in an update for friends checking in, so here it is, sans photos. We are fine. We had breakfasts, and dinners out, and bike rides and some kayaking, and walking and laughing but no campfires. In spite of that, we managed S’mores over the bbq grill for some city kids who experienced them for the first time.
Today as we left Colorado, I stopped in Sterling to see my grandson, married there just last September. Our big group has dropped to just two rigs, with Roger and Nancy parked beside us and ready for our travels to South Dakota tomorrow. I’ll try for some photos, but in case it doesn’t work, at least you know we are no longer out of touch. There will always be time later to catch up and write about everything in more detail
Back to the Desert
On I-80 between Winnemucca, NV and Wells, NV
We have spent a lot of time this past year traveling the coast and the western valleys of Oregon and California. Our little winter time jaunts to Desert Hot Springs require a lot of traveling south along interstates. One of the advantages of living in this part of Oregon is that the northern high deserts are just a skip away to the east. For this trip to Colorado, we decided to follow our infamous Highway 140, (the one we take to Medford all the time) due east toward Lakeview, over the Warner Mountains, and south to Winnemucca.
At the moment, we are on I-80 heading east from Winnemucca toward Wells, where we plan to find a resting place. Interstate traveling at its mind numbing finest, but the visions of the last evening and this morning are still fresh in my mind. We are on our way to a family reunion, and Mo’s brothers are traveling east this morning as well. Original plans included all of us leaving this morning, and Roger and Nancy planned to come south to Rocky Point to caravan with us. Instead, they traveled north to caravan with Dan and Chere, and pick up brother number three, Don on their way east past Umatilla, Oregon.
Mo and I were almost ready to go on Saturday night, with only a mid-afternoon Sunday anniversary party to attend, and we looked at each other and said, “Why wait till Monday”. The original plan also included a driving day of more than 500 miles, not something we were particularly excited about. Instead, we dropped in on the party, and dropped right back out again and were on the road by 2:30 Sunday afternoon. Made for a bit more of a rush on Sunday morning, but well worth it.
We haven’t traveled 140 east for some time, and spent much of our conversation trying to remember which routes we had taken on which trips and during which years! What we both remembered, however, was that the road east of Lakeview was narrow, but quiet and beautiful and we knew there would be someplace where we could spend the night on the boonies.
This route is the one we have taken a few times, visiting the amazing Hart Mountain Reserve, camping at the mysterious and magical Steens Mountains, and returning through the Sheldon Wildlife Refuge looking for wild horses. We love the desert, and yet somehow we had forgotten just how much we love it. The vistas opening out to nothing, the roads empty of anything but stray cattle, the spacious skies all make for spacious open mind thoughts, uncluttered. Love that.
We got gas in Lakeview, at $3.73 per gallon, after realizing that the next reasonable gas was more than 200 miles distant in Winnemucca. Driving over the Warner Mountains was quick, and in no time we were dropping down the basalt canyons toward Adel. The meadows opened up to the south of the highway, and a wide level pullover shaded by a single juniper called to us. By 6:30 pm we were settled in with the slide open, the jacks down, and dinner in the skillet. Both of us were happy to have an extra 150 miles under our belts so our Monday drive to Wells would be a manageable 350 miles or so.
The silence was beautiful, and Mo and I just relaxed, and read a bit, talked a bit, and then started laughing when we couldn’t figure out what the animals outside our rig munching happily on the grass should be called. I wrote to Jenna and hopefully she can answer me. We called them cows, but then thought that cows are only females. Then we had the conversation about what is a heifer, and what animal do you castrate to make a steer if it isn’t a cow, and it is obviously a boy.. We went down the lane with a cow moose, a cow buffalo, a cow elk, and the a cow cow, of course. Then a bull cow? like a bull elk? This is the kind of silliness that can overtake at a boondock site in the middle of nowhere.
The goal is to reach Rock Springs, Wyoming on Wednesday where we will hook up with the brothers and their rigs and camp with hookups at the KOA. Then we will all caravan east toward Laramie, and then south to Lakewood and the rest of the family. I would imagine this first night in the middle of nowhere in Eastern Oregon was possibly the quietest night we may have on the entire trip. Our only sounds were the cows and a very occasional car passing by. The stars were brilliant, even the ones low on the horizon, just as I remember from so many years ago at Hart Mountain.
This morning we were treated to high pink wispy clouds to greet the day, and then even a bit of rain between Denio and Winnemucca. I haven’t seen rain in this part of the desert for a very long time, in fact, I don’t remember ever seeing rain in this part of the high desert. I drove this morning, Mo took over at Winnemucca, and before long we will be hunting for another desert boondock site.
The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales 