I also like Sam the Eagle.

The whole reason for the Southern Oregon adventure had to do with something I read in a guide book about 500 bald eagles nesting there in the winter. I'm not a big bird fan... Well, I'm a Big Bird fan but I'm generally not into birds other than the very large, very small and very odd varieties. So, although the bird refuges just across the border in CA did not excite me, they did interest me.

I spent a lot of time that day watching raptors float mid-air on their way to doing nothing. I was guided through the auto tour by the same gorgeous golden eagle. It was a little early in the season for bald eagles en masse, but I encountered three of the nine bald eagles recently seen in the area. Two are here:

Grungy and scrappy and scavengery and therefore worthy of being our nation's emblem? Sure. Creepily watching me as I ate my sandwich and photographed them? Definitely.

These weekend trips have been tolerance experiments. I'm quite the planner, but to stay flexible (and sane) in South America I need to let some of that go. For these recent trips I knew where I was staying (and generally speaking, what was in the area). Hells Canyon Scenic Byway and Crater Lake were planned, and they were nice. The John Day Fossil Beds and Lava Bed caves were not planned - I ran across them in a guide book the night before and they ended up being my favorite part of the trip...

All of which is to say, I think the experiments are working.

Isn't she...

Klamath Lake

Miles from nowhere, not a soul in sight...

Schonchin Butte trail ~ Lava Beds National Monument

Oregon's Hellmouth

Oh yeah, but it's alright.

Here we are now going to the south side...

I headed out with a purpose: to see what Klamath Falls, Crater Lake and some other southern Oregon towns were all about. Turns out, not much. That's not a complaint. It was nice to take a break from multi-everythinging everything and just be.

Crater Lake is pretty, for sure:


And they have a nice gift shop, and they keep the road plowed to the lake's rim in the winter, and the post office at the visitor center closes at 2pm. That's about all I can say about Crater Lake. But I hear it's lovely in the summer.

Earlier that weekend I headed a bit farther south on my way to Lava Beds National Monument and ran across this sign...

... and I got a little nostalgic. I then bought a couple of postcards and got charged sales tax, and the nostalgia went away. (I suppose if I'd pumped my own gas I could've brought it back?)

I did have a lot of fun in the caves. The others I've visited (Sacramento, South Dakota, Colorado) required guided tours. Here I showed up around noon and asked the gal at the front desk what she recommended. She sent me off with two flashlights and a map. Because it's winter there, the park was empty... and as a result the whole experience was pretty amazing.

Most of the caves are upright-walkable. Some you have to crouch in places, and a few require crawling. I didn't do the crawling ones out of respect for my knees (and my closet claustrophobia), but I definitely got deep underground in a few.

(Golden Dome)

In one of the first caves I explored, about 200 feet in I turned off the flashlight and stood in the dark listening. Outside, the wind was loud and gusting and the temperature was around 25 degrees. Inside the cave it was a balmy 55, slightly humid and... absolutely silent.

It was amazing.

After a few minutes of silence I was reminded of recent mountain lion attacks in the area and I freaked out a little. "Surely they wouldn't just let people wander around solo if mountain lions were in the area. Surely. Right? I mean, this is a national monument, after all."

And then 25 years of pop culture kicked in. I saw a flash of the Indiana Jones scene where the water comes gushing through the tunnel, and I freaked out a little more and turned the flashlight back on. And then I saw flashes from The Lost Boys and I jerked the flashlight up to make sure no vamps or bats were lounging over my head. And then I remembered the cave scenes from The Goonies, which I'd watched on fuzzy cable the night before... And then two dozen scenes from Buffy ran through my head, and then...

And then I laughed at myself, appreciated the adrenaline rush, and moved on to the next cave. (And? That night on fuzzy cable? The Lost Boys! How serendipitously odd.)

Driving sideways, taken in by the scenery...

Five more random pictures taken on the way to Klamath Falls...

Waldo Lake ~ Highway 58

Tree photobomber ~ Waldo Lake, Highway 58

Where they hide the stumps ~ Highway 58

They don't waste time with superfluous words in Southern OR

Trailhead Cafe (good stuff!) ~ Oakridge, OR

Seasons change with the scenery.

Approximately 10 minutes after I commented, "wow, it's gorgeous and sunny on the way to Klamath Falls" on my friend's Facebook status where she was lamenting crappy PDX weather, I hit the dreaded "chains required" sign and 30 degrees. I begrudgingly turned my car around and headed to the Les Schwab I'd passed a few miles back for the quintessential-but-rarely-utilized PNW car accessory.

A mere 20 minutes later I was suited up and ready to brave the snowy mountain. I didn't end up needing those chains, but let's all take a moment to thank our various deities for strategically placed Les Schwab dealers in the middle of nowhere...

And now back to our regularly scheduled program.

Take the last train to Clarksville.

along Highway 58

The painted desert can wait til summer.

After the hike from hell I headed west on Route 26 toward John Day Fossil Beds National Monument.

(Route 26 in that area is also known as the Journey Through Time Scenic Byway - and the name most certainly fits. California has microclimates - the temperature can vary by 10-20 degrees just crossing over a hilly area, but Oregon... well, Oregon has microtopography. I don't know how else to describe it. One minute I was in a forest and pheasant hunters were my enemy, the next minute I kept looking over my shoulder for velociraptors.)

Despite the overcast skies and occasional rain, the views were amazing.

near Dayville, OR

Mascall Formation ~ John Day Fossil Beds

John Day Fossil Beds National Monument area

I want to live... in a van...
down by the John Day River

The new list includes "go back to John Day when it's not raining." Some sort of backpacking trip is in order for my next warm weather 4-day weekend.

It got dark and the drive back to La Grande was pretty intense, what with the rain and windy roads and deer (and rabbits and mice) that didn't get the memo about prime road-crossing time being dawn and dusk. I stopped in the middle of a windy road to take this picture...


... and kept glancing in my rearview to make sure no one was coming. I saw nothing. Absolutely NOTHING - just black. Much like watching the Pacific Ocean on an empty beach, grand scheme perspective was acknowledged and appreciated.

I don't think I'm in the Columbia River Gorge anymore.

Early the morning of Day 3 I saw this sign:

I didn't think much about it as I headed to Strawberry Mountain Wilderness for a 9-mile hike.

Let me rephrase that. I didn't think much about it as I headed into the woods dressed in brown and green clothing, to wander alone for hours after not telling anyone the details of my plan for the day.

Dumb, dumb city girl.

I got about three miles into the Joaquin Miller trail, which was right around here...

... before hearing a shot, and then another shot. Dumb city girl did a quick 180 and high-tailed it back. (Loudly, and with ample arm-flailing.) On the way I passed two of the hunters armed and ready for the next pheasant that crossed their path. They were polite but coldly so, and being in such close proximity to guns always makes me a little nauseous.

I got back to the trailhead where I ate my sandwich, slowed my heart rate and stared at this sign, which I'd missed on the way in:


I'm sorry, but I just don't get sport hunting.

In other news, I also saw Ponderosa pines for the first time. Their puzzle piece bark was fascinating...


... and this cow almost made up for the nerve-wracking hike.


Almost.

Fire it up.

On the road again...

This week marked the start of my part-time status (read: four-day-weekends) for the next few months. To celebrate I headed east to check out Hells Canyon.*

La Grande was home base for the weekend, so Day 1 was supposed to include a visit to their visitor-center-slash-fire-truck-museum (really) to see what the town had to offer. Natch, it was only 3pm but they had just closed along with just about everything else in town. So most of Day 1 involved exploring every inch of the only antique store and bookstore still open, relaxing in the crappy motel, planning my route the next day... and wondering what people who live in small towns do for fun.

Day 2: Hells Canyon Scenic Byway. Five observations about the 218 mile loop:

1. "They" say it can be done in as little as five hours, but to really appreciate it you should take 3-4 days. "They" are probably right. I opted for the five hour journey with a few sidesteps for nature time. Most of the trails I wanted to hike were snowed in but I found an accessible one... and vowed to return in the summer to explore the rest.
   
   
   Wallowa Lake - bottom of hike
   
   
   
   Wallowa Lake - top of hike
   
   
   BC Falls - Wallowa Lake hike
   
   
   
2. There are lots of little towns along the route. Everything I read about every town emphasized how "nice" and "friendly" the people were (quotes added, of course), which seemed odd before the drive. Along the drive I saw many trucks with gun racks inside the cabs (for easy access?), and several rather blunt handmade anti-abortion signs in front of houses... and started to understand the emphasis.
   
   
3. They keep it weird out there too.
   
   
   (apparently shoe trees are a widespread phenomenon...)
   
   
4. You know you live in a small town when your city map is hand-painted and fits on a piece of chart pad paper.
   
   
   (map drawn to scale)
   
   
   
5. Hells Canyon itself is pretty amazing, and I highly recommend it.