Well. We are going to visit some longtime friends this evening, and will make some new ones, too. It’s a cold, wet winter here in western Washington; a prudent response involves a log cabin, a roaring fire, and good company. In this case the company will be one couple with a new RV and another that’s waiting for its Toto-cousin (another Escape trailer) to be built. We will eat, drink, and (likely) all wish we were RVing somewhere south of here. Next year, maybe!
We had thought to take Toto for the weekend and camp nearby — at Fay Bainbridge Park on Bainbridge Island — but it’s so wet out, and it may snow tomorrow before the time we would hook up and return home. The campground is at the bottom of a narrow downhill drive that gets scant sunlight, and it might be slushy or frozen. Not a good time to pull Toto up a hill. So we will just make the drive home tonight, and Toto can stay here and guard the house.
One of the fellows we’re visiting is the guy who suggested, a couple of years ago, that I write this blog. To avoid complete shame, I gotta get this thing going again.
So. Last September we resumed our investigation of Oregon State Parks, this time in the Cascades. The plan included stops at five parks, with a day trip down to Crater Lake (none of us has ever been). So we made all those plans, reserved campsites, etc., and then fambly people began threatening to visit us at a campsite, and to make it work we simplified the schedule a bit. And THEN, after our trip started, we further simplified it, and shortened it; it was the most impulsive we have been out on the road.
Our first stop was just an overnight an hour or so outside of Portland, and we will not discuss it here, but we will soon. It was a little rainy and muddy, but interesting. Wait, no discussing it here. Next day we traversed a 4500-foot mountain pass, right over the shoulder of Mt. Hood, threaded down the eastern slope of the Cascades, went south past Bend (which has a very-difficult-to-find Safeway), and on to Lapine State Park. The park is in a second-growth pine forest, and these pines must be drought-tolerant because they were still alive despite quite the drought — and, besides, Lapine is pretty much high desert country, except with a pine forest. Frankly I don’t understand it at all.
Will you just look at these trees! Do they look dusty? Heck, they even smelled dusty. That said, not a bad campsite.
The campground has three sizable loops hosting well over a hundred campsites. We had chosen the southernmost loop, when we reserved, because it looked on the map like its sites would be close to the Deschutes River. That worked out well.
The Deschutes runs right through the park, making its way toward an eventual meeting with the Columbia. This riverbank was just a few steps from our campsite.
Remember in school when you studied French? Sure you do. You learned to pronounce words like Deschutes as DaySHOOT. But that is not how they say it in the Oregon Cascades. They say duhSHOOTS. It’s their river, and they’ll say it how they want.
Plenty of folks were trying to catch fish out of this river, but we didn’t see anyone succeed. Maybe this was because the fish weren’t hungry, or weren’t even there at all. We may never know. But I am thinking that, if I were a trout, I would be pretty annoyed that people were angling to catch me. I would want revenge. Yeah, I know, seek professional help, okay.
Our adjusted plan was to stay here for a week. After the fambly visit, we would have time to explore the nearby high alpine lakes, and zip down to Crater Lake for some amateur photography. So, the fambly came and went (they came a long way and I hope they liked the monkey bread), and also we took the boys on a long, dusty hike (nice trails! but dusty), and then the next day we were at the point where we would need to change campsites (our late change of plans made this a necessity)… and we decided to move on to our next destination instead.
On our hike we encountered this high point overlooking the Deschutes. It looked less dusty here, but… it was just as dusty. So much dust.
Just look at that water. By this time, we had hiked an hour, it was in the mid-80s and we were hot. I was ready to jump in. But I didn’t, because what if a trout bit me? Out of anger, I mean.
Crater Lake would have to wait for us to visit another time (and we surely will). We packed up and aimed back across the mountains, toward Detroit Lake State Park. To get there, we went through the town of Sisters, then over another Cascade pass. Note: TinMan and Toto performed admirably in the mountains. And I did not drive us off the road even once.
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