In Which The MaxFunCan Summer Gets Under Way

As we still have to work for a living (I know! Right?), the MaxFunCan has been limited to long weekends this summer. We have taken it, along with the two collies, on short jaunts to Central Oregon and the Oregon Coast.

The Can seemed so much more spacious without the two land sharks milling about and bumping into things. At night (well, all the time), most of the floor space is taken up by large mounds of dog. But man, does Scotty love camping! He gets so excited, he forgets all the Dog Whisperer manners I drilled into him, and cannot stop pulling on the leash. 

I wonder if he can smell bears and cougars. At the campground on the coast where we stayed July 9th through 11th, there was a sign that said, "Last bear sighting: _____________" and the blank was filled in in wax marker with 7/8/10. Dammit! Missed it by THAT MUCH! I kept my head on a swivel, but failed to catch sight of any bears. Cougars had been sighted there too, but not since May.

Annie seems to enjoy the sniffing part of camping, but has been limping quite theatrically lately, so we had to take short, slow walks with her, and then take her back to the trailer before letting Scotty pull us like a sleigh for a mile or two. And she wasn't able to pull herself up the two metal steps into the camper, so I got a lot of Collie Lifting in. She was mostly happy to lie still, as she does at home. We call her our Little Wet Blanket.

Tumalo State Park outside of Bend was a big hit with families. So much so that there seemed to be bicycle gangs forming amongst the camp urchins. The noise level was of an overcrowded-playground nature throughout our stay. Next time we head to Bend, we will be heading for more remote Forest Service campgrounds.

Annie, looking like she is enduring this little walk along Tumalo Creek.

Drew took me for a mountain bike ride that skirted along the edges of my abilities.

This is how I look on a mountain bike. The captain kept taking pictures of me while I rode. I must have looked funny.

This is what The Captain looks like on a mountain bike. Like Sven, your mountain biking guide and masseur. 

Washburne State Park on the Oregon Coast, north of Florence, was much quieter, and the campers' ages trended much higher, like 60 years higher. And the trail to the beach did not involve any rock climbing, which can be a reality on the "ruggedly beautiful" Oregon coast.

I took Drew for a hike that skirted along the edges of his abilities.

Here is The Captain looking like he's running short on patience and knee cartilage in the mile-square temperate rain forest that is Heceta Head.  It was in the high 70s with blue sky everywhere else and we were being rained on. We're almost there. (Then we hiked back.)

Yes, we hiked UP onto Heceta Head and then DOWN off of it to get to the lighthouse. 

Now Scotty's an itchy mess and needs another trip to the groomer. I've gained all my New Year's Resolution weight back, in no small part due to s'mores. The yard has been neglected. And the same half-completed canvas has sat on my easel for a month.

This is the Lighthouse Keeper's house at Heceta Head. It's rumored to be haunted, so I was disappointed not to find any ghostly images in the windows.

I would buckle down, but this weekend is the Alpenrose Velodrome Challenge weekend, so we'll be planted out at the track, watching Dean race and eating booth food. 

Everything gets put off but the fun. I guess those are okay priorities.

Blogging During Football Season and Other Adventures

This post was written on my raspberry while watching the Duck/Purdue game this afternoon. Sorry for the interruptions.

At a Steens overlook, checking the glacier-scoured gorge for wildlife. Score: one golden eagle.

I could begin my post by continuing the outdoor-toilet-substitute-exploits theme begun last time, but I'm afraid that story may lead to my son finding it necessary to dig the visualization lobe out of his brain with a spare bicycle spoke, so I will just report here that there are very few outhouses in the Steen Mountains.

(Aah, crap - interception. This game is not going as planned.)

The Steens Mountains wilderness area has two official

(Fumble on the kick! Purdue's ball again! Aaah!)

The Steens Mountains wilderness area has two official

(A Purdue run to the two yard line!)

The Steens Mountains wilderness area has two official campgrounds up on top: one with maybe a dozen spaces around a tiny lake, and one with just four spaces around a dry wash.

We chose the latter on account

(now 20 to 3! What the hell!)

We chose the latter on account of the camo-clad bowhunters at the lake campground, who, instead of bowhunting, seemed to be content to use random campground items for beer-fueled target practice.

The Steens is dry and high, with several glacier-scooped gorges, juniper, sage, and aspen just turning yellow now.

I think this is the one that is not the Little Blitzen River Gorge (the one we hiked along), but the other one.

It's high and thus cold at night, which makes a good sleeping bag a must, and some quick-on sweats a must for those late-night outhouse trips.

(Argh! Missed pass! Yipes! Bad snap! This game is a nightmare.)

We heard something prowling around our campground the first night, but Drew had his big old camping knife with him, so even though I kept thinking about Brick Tamblin's concern about women and bears,

(What! That was an incomplete pass, not a fumble!)

I wasn't worried. In the morning, Drew says he saw some tracks that may have belonged to a bobcat. Bobcats aren't scary - they're cute with their fluffy ears.

(This game sucks.)

Monday night, all four spaces were full in our little campground, with more hopeful campers continuing to drive through, scanning for spaces late into the evening.

Tuesday night, inexplicably, we had the whole place to ourselves. We scoured the other three camp spaces for firewood (feeling a little like survivors from Cormac McCarthy's The Road),

OMG, our adorable little tent nestled against the golden aspens.

(Aargh! Another interception!)

We started a fire, hooked the Ipod up to the truck and listened to a Tim Dorsey book (Serge Storms: my favorite serial murderer with a photographic memory for Florida history and a certain code of gentlemanly behavior, however twisted).

Wednesday morning there was frost on the tent, and the coffee water took such a long time to boil.

(Dropped ball! Dropped ball! Dropped ball!)

After three days and two nights of dry and dusty camping, we were ready for some hot water and a milkshake, so we packed up the camp and headed east.

(Finally! A Duck interception! With 39 seconds left in the half.)

East? Yes, east - first to a natural hot springs spot on the edge of the Alvord Desert (sort-of lovingly sort-of kept up by loyal users), where we lolled in a wind-screened pool of slightly slimy, sulfury and minerally spa-hot water in the middle of nowhere on the edge of an ancient dry lake bed with no one in sight. Brilliant and absurd.

(20 - 6 Purdue at half time. Ugh.)

Once the hot water had turned my face a satisfying shade of fuchsia, it was time to move on to Fields, the teeny-tiny town that is home to the legendary Fields General Store.

The Fields General Store's claim to fame seems to be burgers and shakes. And the kind of quirky homeliness found only in American deserts.

If you eat at Fields, I suggest that you take a seat away from the grill, as it is best not to watch this process too closely. It would also be best to be one of those desert individualists who don't have much use for either aesthetics or hygiene. Or those food safety "theories."

(An Oregon pick! I hope the offense takes advantage this time! Nope. Fumble.)

We ended the day with hot showers in a Bend motel up on Century Drive.

Thursday was our ann

(Duck special teams touchdown! Purdue is now only up by 7. But where's the offense?)

Thursday was our anniversary and Drew wanted to do something nice for me, so we had a milli-calorie breakfast at the Westside, and headed up past Todd Lake to one of the Broken Top trail heads. Drew's aim was to hike over to the Green Lakes, which lay between Broken Top and the South Sister.

Drew is not a natural hiker. The hiking he does, he does either for me or for meat. (You know, for hunting.)

It didn't look that far on the map, but it ended up being a 6 to 7 -mile hike one way to the lakes, which are actually nestled at the base of the South Sister. Drew and his flat feet and sore shins, still smarting from Steens hiking the day before, were tired and achy when we got to the lakes, and although the scenery was unmatchable, with very few other humans within whistling distance, he rested in the shade while knowing he had to do it all over again to get back to the truck.

Green Lakes. Just at the timber line. Inaccessible for nine-ten months out of the year, they are so high up in the Cascades.

(Duck touchdown! The score is tied! Tied! Quack, dammit, effing quack!)

On our way up, Drew marveled at trail maintenance crews, who must pack chain saws up here to clear the trails of downed trees. I could easily imagine doing that, but can't imagine doing 100-mile bicycle rides just for a workout like Drew-type people do.

Although the hike up to the lakes had been quiet as we were busy admiring the scenery, I thought Drew could use some

(Fumble! Oregon's got it!)

I thought Drew could use some distraction on the way down, so I kept him talking. I rewound our last 26 years, and stopped it every five years to see what we could remember.

(Another fumble back to Purdue. Crap.)

From 1982, we stopped at 1987 (at Travis AFB with a show-stopping-cute two-year-old), 1992 (living in Bend before the BFD experience goes sour, Dean learning how to ignore his teachers), 1997 (post BFD "divorce" and past a quick spacer job at the PDX FD and new at the VFD job, living in Tualatin close to my Hollywood Video legal dept job), 2002 (deep into Hollywood Video supervisory headaches and starting to learn what it means to have a kid who is good at an expensive and unpopular sport), and finally 2007, our 25th anniversary, which we celebrated by gaining a daughter-in-law in August.

(Purdue is on the 15 and threatening. Here comes the field goal guy...yep. Purdue up by 3.)

That and a few other random topics kept us talking all the way back to the truck. It was touch and go at times when Drew stopped to rest his aching back - I wasn't sure whether he was going to straighten back up again, but he powered through it like a soldier.

Some happy-anniversary dinner at the Pine Tavern and a soaking in the Turkish bath at McMenamins, and Drew's back on top.

Drew at Green Lakes. He's smiling with his mouth, but not with his eyes.

(Aach! Another missed catch in the end zone! Oh well, we got a field goal out of it. Back to a tie at 23.)

I wouldn't kick him in the shins today if I were you. Well, any time, really. But those shins are more than a little sore today.

(28 seconds left. Purdue has the ball. Down to a 44 yard field goal. Its wide! Its going to overtime!)

(Crap. QB Roper's down with a knee injury. Field goal for 3. Purdue's turn.)

(Thurmond gets a pass interference. Purdue gets close. Closer. Another field goal. To OT#2.)

(Purdue goes backward in their possession, and can't hit the field goal.)

(Freshman Duck QB Harper gets sacked as well. Johnson gets some yards back and Ducks get a 1st down. Blount in the end zone! TD and its over!)

(Holy crap. I've got to go lie down.)

Camping is made better by the shower afterward. Hiking is made better by the payoff at the end of the trail. If you get a chance to hike to Green Lakes (it turns out there is a shorter trail - check your favorite Central Oregon hiking guidebook), I would definitely do it.

Camping! Dirty!

Nature, wilderness, quietude, we'll get to all of that in a moment, but first, this:

Yesterday I peed standing up.

Now back to the camping report:

BLACK CRATER OF DEATH.

Drew's favorite place to camp and hunt when we lived in Bend was Black Crater, where there was a little lake so secluded that you had to drive really lousy excuses for "roads" in your least favorite junker and then hike another mile to reach. This, Drew's Happy Place, was our destination this weekend.

Drew in his Happy Place. Such as it is.

Of course, we knew that there had been a forest fire two years ago, foreshadowingly called The Black Crater Fire, but in Drew's rosy-tinged world, he saw the map of fire destruction as seeming to have miraculously saved Black Crater itself and its tiny, pristine, and lonely lake.

As you may have guessed, the lake is still tiny and lonely, and pristine in a way, that is, pristine of all animal life save bugs, a few confused frogs, and some trout possibly dropped by air tanker during the fire.

At least the lake is still pretty...

And it's so quiet. In the morning, there was no sound at all. No sound. Imagine.

Life is showing signs of revival, but it's early still. The green trees are small, but getting lots of sunshine through the dead branches looming above. The fish are jumping. The frogs are chirping. And there is one pair of woodpeckers (I think they're dating) having a field day in the dead wood.

This is your bark. This is your bark under intense heat.

The actual camping experience went mostly well. We were (understandably) the only people there - probably the only people within a five-mile radius. We could have walked around completely nude (but that would have required much too much bug spray). The quiet was shocking and soothing and habit forming. I could have used some grass to lounge on. There was mostly just dust and dirt, so we stood and balanced on logs a lot.

The moral of the equipment story: the expensive stuff performed well, the cheap stuff performed (with one exception) on a par with their price. The winners:

• My super-technical backpack with secret compartments I'm still discovering;
• Our new space-shuttle Jetboil cooking equipment (faster than a microwave at boiling water, we swear);
• My sleeping pad (which is pink, because it's totally girls-only);
  
• Our two-person tent with stash shelves and vent action (the one cheap thing that made the winner list);
  
• The French press; and
• The beef stroganoff-in-a-bag from Mountain House (it's like real food!).

The losers:

• Drew's cheap sleeping pad;
• Drew's new air pillow; and
  
• the Kung Pao chicken-in-a-bag from Backpacker's Pantry (not sure what it is, but we doubt if it's made out of food).

On the List of Things to Bring Next Time:

• More beef stroganoff;
• A hammock;
• Wet wipes;
• Garbage bags; and
• More underwear.

We decided that despite the road sitch and the dead tree issue, we should come back every year to watch how the place comes back from charcoal to life again.

And, finally, the latest entry into our collection of butt-shaped objects: the butt-shaped tree.

I'm looking forward to it.

Camping! Yay!

Okay, okay, okay, okay, so I got my new fluffy mummy bag that weighs about as much as a Skittle, a pillow that squishes down to the size of a used Kleenex, an overpriced stove system that I believe features parts from a space shuttle, a tiny lamp called a Glorb which shoots laser beams, geek-wear head lamps, something called a Sani-Fem F.U.D. (I know!), and freeze-dried kung pao chicken in a bag.

I think we're ready to venture out-of-doors.

Since I haven't camped sans vehicles since I was a Girl Scout, we are starting with a short hike and an overnight stay to test out all our hiking-camping equipment.

I've soured on camping over the past 20 years, not because I disliked marshmallows or campfires, but that I frown on staying in campgrounds that end up feeling more like large apartment complexes without walls, with all the other project dwellers feeling just as comfortable to let their kids hang out in your no-walled apartment as in their own, to play loud, lousy music, yell at the top of their lungs, and find a short-cut to the one smelly bathroom through your living room.

The idea of hiking in to a much more out-of-the-way campground, inaccessible to vehicles, is so brilliant, I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner.

Except maybe the whole Sani-Fem F.U.D. thing. But if that thing works out and my squatting days are truly over, this may be a the best thing since hotels.

Stay tuned for important updates.