Exploring Oregon FINALLY

I have not done well touring my new home state. Although I now know Portland fairly well I can't say the same for the rest of the state. In fact it is rather pathetic how little I have seen. Well, to give me some credit, I visited bits and pieces prior to moving here but not so much since my permanent arrival.

One of my earliest visits was in 1988, I think. We took an overnight train from Salinas. I know it was St Patrick's Day because I dyed the mayonnaise green for the sandwiches I packed for the overnight train trip. What I remember most of that one-week trip is not the beautiful Oregon coast we toured once we arrived but that train ride north. Let's see, Gary was using a walker for his MS, Steph had a brace on her leg from slipping in the kitchen, Lee had a cast on his arm from a skateboard incident - so I was the only one without some medical device attached to my body and predicted that anyone watching us awkwardly board the train thought, "Probably a car accident. I bet she was driving. She was probably drunk - they are always the ones who don't get hurt."

At one point Lee fell and thought he re-broke his arm inside the cast. I called the conductor who got to make the classic call over the P.A. , "Is there a doctor on the train?" About 10 minutes later a scruffy, taciturn man appeared and mumbled, "Has anyone shown up?" When I asked if he was a doctor, he didn't answer, just looked unblinkingly at me. I decided not to push it, grateful that anyone stopped by. He examined Lee's arm, cut back the cast a bit around his wrist, told him to quit running on the train (clever man to figure out the probable cause of the incident) and then quietly melted away. I still have no idea who or what he was.

On later trips I saw the Columbia River Gorge, the area surrounding Hood River, Crater Lake and Mt Hood.  I have also been up and down Highway 5 between California and Seattle countless times so know the rest stops and Mc Donald's restrooms on that corridor. And in September my sister-in-law Lynne and her husband took me to see Mt. St Helens, 33 years after its volcanic eruption. It filled me with awe to see the extent of the damage still visible and the areas of regrowth - but that is in Washington, not Oregon. My knowledge of Oregon is so bad that I have not even made it 6 miles south of where I currently live to visit the museum in Oregon City that marks the end of the Oregon Trail. Really? A former U.S. history teacher? All of 6 miles?

I made my first actual planned foray when my friend Emily visited last September. We drove out to Astoria and visited the area where Lewis and Clark spent their first winter on the coast - but that is it. Well, that is until my friend Mary Lou and I spent a weekend in mid-October exploring a portion of central Oregon new to me - and I could not have had a better guide. Mary Lou's father owned and operated the store on the Warm Springs Indian Reservation, maybe 100 miles east of Portland, over the Cascades. She lived and went to school there until she was in third grade. We spent the weekend leisurely exploring her past with no fixed plans, no agenda and credit cards to cover any costs that arose - the perfect way to travel.

Our first stop was Camp Namanu, the Camp Fire Girls camp where Mary Lou was director in her twenties. On this day most buildings were closed for the winter.

I love this view of a cabin over the bridge at the end of the lane.

Canoes put away for the winter

Another classic camp structure

Next we stopped to look at the steepest crossing on the Oregon Trail. I took a photo but, remember, it was me with my phone camera and even I have some pride and won't include it because you cannot tell that this portion of trail went straight up the side of a mountain. To look up at the drop from below and imagine those brave/crazy pioneers lashing conestoga wagons then lowering them, one by one, down this incredibly steep grade - well it makes me wonder how many wives were still speaking to their husbands once they got through the Great Plains, over the Rockies and then down this last drop into Oregon Territory? I could still hear them muttering "What were you THINKING taking us on this God-forsaken-trip?"

Then over the mountain and down into the Warm Spring Indian Reservation and I was shocked by the geography. I expected dry, desolate high desert but no, we plunged into a verdant northwest forest. We spied a dirt road going off to the right and decided to take it. Mary Lou thought it might end at the area where she grew up.

Maybe not our smartest idea. As we drove deeper into the forest, the path grew more rugged. After several miles we came to a stop before a hand-lettered sign "Bridge Down" and a gate that blocked further access. There was no choice other than to ease the car around - not a 3-point but maybe a 7-point turn -  and then try to find our way back out. We had not thought to made notes of "first a right, then a left, then another left" as we drove into the forest. At some point I thought, "Hmmmm, we don't have extra water or food, our cell phones don't work and there is no traffic on these dirt roads. What if the car breaks down?" We eventually made it out, a paved highway never looked so good, and then I saw the notice on my map, "Entry prohibited to non residents of the Reservation." Oops. Would it count that Mary Lou, white as can be, grew up on the reservation many moons ago? She was a former resident, yes?

But then, once again, the geography suddenly changed and I found it hard to believe I was still in Oregon. Gone was the rain-drenched Willamette Valley that I know. Here was the dry side of the mountain and it was gorgeous. So gorgeous that even my photography skills couldn't screw up.

Look at the colors - amazing. This is in Oregon. Who knew???

An abandoned church

An abandoned house near the abandoned church.

The Oregon equivalent of sage brush - Rabbit Weed

By this time we were hungry and stopped, where else on a reservation, but at the casino. It was the original casino that has been replaced by a newer one down the road a bit. This building is now a conference center and hotel - with a restaurant.  I had never had a bison burger or fried Indian bread - both delicious.

Then we drove to the area of the reservation where Mary Lou had grown up. Her house is no longer there but the Indian school and her father's store were still standing although the school was boarded up and it looks like her father's store is soon to be torn down.

The old Indian school.

Her father's store.  She remembers Indians riding up on horseback
 then tossing their reins over a post in front.

We toured the local small Indian museum (excellent) then drove to the neighborhood where she moved in the third grade, not that many miles but a world away from the reservation, right on the Deschutes River.

By this time we were tired and found a motel in Madras to spend the night. The next morning I was to learn more about the diversity of Oregon. We drove about 40 miles south of Madras (to those who know Oregon we were a bit north of Bend) to Smith Rock. I was speechless - and it takes a lot to do that to me.

Yes, I took these photos with my phone.  Even I was amazed at how they turned out.
Nothing can mess up the glory of this land,  filled with rock climbers and hikers. 

We shopped in Bend, drove up the mountain to have lunch in Sisters (and yes, friend Barbara deep in Kazakhstan, I thought of you), meandered through the mountains taking interesting roads and lanes as we found them and then, finally, it was time to head home. But even then Oregon surprised me.

Yes it snowed!

What a two-day trip - lush Willamette Valley, verdant forest, dry high desert, snow in the mountains  - all in Oregon. I have so much more to see. Now I am committed!