This past week we set pearls and work aside, packed up the car and
headed for the mountains. Summer is fleeting here in the Pacific North
West so we have been itching to get away from our home in Portland to
enjoy it. There's much to do here of course but having back-packed with
our parents, Celeste and I were both keen to get our kids out to see
what the higher elevations of Oregon had to offer. We were familiar
with the Sierras and Trinity Alps of California but neither of us had
been in the back country of the Pacific Wonderland and after living here
for a year now, we were way over-due.
Guided by our favorite wilderness author Douglas Lorain and his amazing
book Backpacking in Oregon, we headed east for over five hours to the
Wallowa Mountains. I drove while Celeste and our good friend Sandra Bao
(like Celeste, also a Lonely Planet guide book author) were in charge
of piloting. Sandra wrote the last Lonely Planet edition of Oregon so
it was fortuitous and fun having her with us.
Our camp from below.
My pilots landed us in a very small town called Pondosa. Technically it
was wrong turn but a visit to the only store in town quickly reminded
us that when traveling the voyage is often the destination. The "store"
was the home of a sweet elderly couple who were obviously glad for our
unlikely visit. They showed us pictures of the Pondosa they knew 30
years prior and the sawmill and buzz of activity that surrounded it.
Their home has 12 rooms upstairs that used to lodge two men in each
room. Now, the cobwebs and musty air are testament that all has been
quiet for many years. They proudly showed us t-shirts and newspaper
articles that claimed Pondosa to be the geographical center of the
United States (Hawaii and Alaska included). A Google search would later
contest it but we were glad to have journeyed to such a self-declared
power center. After a half an hour we waved goodbye to them and their
numerous spooky cats and got on our way.
As we climbed in altitude the desert and rolling dry hills that we had
been in for hours gave way to lush pines. On arriving at the trail head
we breathed in the thinner, pine heavy air and eagerly hoisted our
heavy loads onto our backs. I was barefoot and was immediately glad to
be so. I found that curving my feet and gripping my toes gave me
considerably better traction than stiff-soled hiking boots. Balance
with the heavy pack was easy and walking through the rushing streams
was a joy instead of something to be avoided. Celeste quickly became
frustrated by her flip flops and abandoned them then our son Tevai's
waterlogged skate shoes came off, soon followed by Jasmine's.
The trail climbed steadily and followed a stream, noisily plunging over
giant granite boulders. About a mile into the 4.1 mile hike we met a
ranger on the way down. Dennis was an affable mix of John Denver and
Willie Nelson and was clearly in his element. He was impressed by our
lack of shoes and asked us if we had filled out the honor system
visitor's permit at the trail head. We had and after checking it with
some spectacles hanging from his neck he explained that it was an
important detail because it helped them track the number of visitors
which in turn was helpful for their annual budget demand. Funding for
the work of the Oregon Parks and Wilderness has been getting slashed to
the point of it being a struggle to do their job.
The noise of the stream became more distant as the trail climbed away
from it then finally we entered a meadow where we were to make our
camp. Ranger Dennis was spot on when he said that we would be singing
at the sight of it. The meadow which was bright green and full of wild
flowers was met by the harsh white of granite rubble mixed with pines
making for a perfect alpine effect. There was a small island and Tevai
suggest we cross the stream to what looked like a campsite on the other
side. A campfire circle awaited us with several perfect places to pitch
our tents.
Glorious Looking Glass Lake.
Tevai and I got busy answering the question of what we were going to
have for dinner. We could have literally and easily caught trout from
our tents but we struck off to explore and found that the Brook trout
were abundant and eager to gobble whatever we threw in the stream. We
ate trout every night and Tevai surprised us all by pulling 13 and 12
inch fish from gorgeous Looking Glass Lake the day after our arrival.
Brook trout over 11 inches are uncommon so the three plus mile hike to
the spectacular lake was more than worth it.
The meadow on the other side of the creek from our campsite had veins of
tiny streams cutting through it with freezing cold water rushing to
meet the main stream. In some places the streams were a foot wide and
two feet deep but incredibly enough were full of trout. The fine art of
"trout tickling" quickly ensued and we had a beautiful specimen for
dinner in no time. To "tickle" a trout, you have to first flush them
out with your hands and feet. Once you locate them you have to murk up
the water just upstream of where your trout is hiding. You then put
both hands under the bank and slowly find your trout. If you are gentle
enough, they will stay put as you close both hands around them.
There's something primal and deeply satisfying about it but most of all
it's a great recipe for wet fun. Back at the main stream Sandra caught
her first trout on a rod and was instantly "hooked" on the craft of
fishing in a small stream.
Nightfall was always an occasion to look forward to. The moon was
waxing and nearly full on our last night making for some fun night
photography; making me glad I lugged my photo equipment up the
mountain. Despite the warm days, it got very chilly as the sun went
down so a campfire at night was the routine. This was cause to partake
in the fine American tradition of melted marshmallows and chocolate on
graham crackers ie: s'mores.
On the way home Sandra "steered" us to the cowboy town of Pendleton
that boasts a massive rodeo called the Pendleton Round-up that has been
going since 1910. It's also the home and factory location for the wool
clothing brand Pendleton but most of all it's a slice of American life
that felt strangely foreign to us. A big Dodge truck with an "Obama bin
lyin' bumpersticker was a mirror to the Prius with the Palin/Sheen 2012
sticker we saw on the way out of Portland.
Getting to know some of the breath-taking scenery and wildlife as well
as the long roads and endless horizons that are part of a road-trip in
America, help me to feel like life in this country is something I can
claim as my own.
Celeste wrote a post while I wrote this one so for a different
perspective please check out her popular blog at
http://www.coconutradio.blogspot.com/
