As I mentioned in my previous post about beating the heat, I postponed my desert sojourn around the state until the fall, and this left me at the tail end of July without any real travel out to the desert yet this summer. How could this be? I mean this is me, little miss "well, I'm off to the desert, see you once there's frost on the ground.." I guess it was circumstance and the weather, both messing up my seasonal compass.
So I took a look at the temperature and the weather for the weekend of July 26th and while the temperature's were very comfortable, the winds had picked up, and as far south as the John Day River in Spray, there were gusts of up to 30mph. Newsflash, some birds might get blown past my camera lens, but most will just hunker down and wait it out. So I compromised by heading out Monday night of July 27th, still expecting some breeze and gusts, but it was supposed to die down by morning.
I had an uneventful haul out I-84 east, with the exception of some summer construction slowing us to a crawl for about 15 minutes. I hit Biggs Junction about a half an hour later than I expected, got some gas and a tuna sub, cleaned the windshield and headed south towards the John Day River and Cottonwood Canyon. This is a relatively new area that was opened up to the public almost two years ago in September 2013. There has been a parking lot with a boat launch and bathroom for many years on the south side of the river, but this new park is pretty awesome. It stretches about 2.5 miles east of highway 206 and 4.5 miles to the west, encompassing 8000 square acres of hillside, river and canyon land. One of the best parts about this place in my opinion are the miles of riverside trail. This is a rarity in the high desert; for while there are a good number of campgrounds that I frequent in Central Oregon, there are few places to walk other than the shoulder of the road. The river is public property if you're in a boat, but the land you travel through is by and large private. So you can bet your sweet bippy that the first time I came to Cottonwood Canyon, I hiked both trails within 24 hours with a big grin on my face. I found birds and bones and really fell in love with the place.
Oh and did I mention that the parks department bought the original farm intact and have kept it and it's yards? They have added some really thoughtful artistic history lessons along the fencing, photos and text etched into the wood. And as you walk through the farm yard, you learn about the tribes that originally lived in the area, the settlers who first came to the canyon lands, and the geology and horticulture that made up the environment back then. I really like walking though this place and both times I have, I've been the only person there.
And last but not least, there are full service bathrooms up by the visitor center and the farm, so if you really want to wash your face and look in a mirror, you have that option. Running water in the desert is a rarity, although I must say, their vault toilets in the campground are also immaculate. The camping spots are $10 a night, and you have a table, a fire ring, and a wooden divider to hide behind from the sun, the wind, or perhaps your neighbor. They have planted a lot of trees and in ten years, they might provide some shade or privacy but until then, you're in full view of your neighbors, so you have to keep that in mind. And just a heads up, no campfires except your camp stove between June 1st to September 30th. It's like this every year, even when Oregon isn't suffering from a drought. The desert is one giant ongoing drought, and fires are devastating out there, so put those matches out, and don't risk that fire, please! It's too hot most nights anyway.
I got to the campground, pulled in and glory be praised! I had the whole joint to myself! I pulled in at a site at the far end, closest to the river, and got out my lunch and my binocs and sat at the picnic table to relax for a bit. Immediately heard songbirds and looked around to see a variety of sparrows perched on the wire cages tied around all of the saplings planted throughout the campground. I immediately abandoned my food and started chasing sparrows all around the area, with them just constantly out of reach of a good sighting. Sighing over how this always seems to be my relationship with the 'little brown birds', I went back to finish my lunch. I wanted to hike east along the river up the 'Pinnacle Trail' before sunset and see if I could find the cliff swallows and canyon wrens of my previous visit. I packed up my gear, and headed along the river. I turned upon hearing a vehicle and alas, a family of four was pulling in to set up camp. Oh well, at least I got the illusion of having the place to myself for at least an hour. I walked out the Pinnacles trail for almost the full mile and a half, and saw two pairs of canyon wrens, but just one cliff swallow. Had the rest abandoned these nests? No idea. I saw a solitary nighthawk diving over the river, clearly hoovering up insects and then flying back to the same spot to start over. It gave me ample opportunity to take dozens of blurry photos, two of which I share here. In the process of tracking it, I startled a pack of magpies from a sandbar in the river as well as a small family of female ducks, possible mallards, into flight. A sole osprey sat down river, solemnly watching me make a ruckus and disturb every bird within a quarter mile. But not him, he was too cool to be flustered by the likes of me.. There were a handful of western kingbirds flying in the taller trees and by the time I headed back, the sun had dipped down below the hills and a handful of cliff swallows had shown up. I said good night to the very vocal reprimands of the canyon wrens and headed back to the truck to watch the moon rise up over the hillside.
canyon wren
western kingbird
blurry nighthawk
The photos I took on this trip are really a wake-up call to me to get it together and pay more attention to my camera settings before and during my trip. I'd say that 90 % of the bird pictures shot on this trip were completely useless. Blurry, completely out of focus, and this was true for some birds that were effectively motionless in trees! No excuse, none whatsoever.. So I apologize to any wildlife photographers who wonder what the hell some of these photos are doing here, and I have to say that the blurry ones are just proof that I saw any birds at all on this trip. Tragic.. And to be honest, I have to be careful, because I'm sliding down that slippery slope once more, that slope that says if you don't have a picture of it, you didn't see it. Birding has entered such a funny territory, as old schoolers debate over how to embrace this new world of affordable telephoto lenses, and birding apps for smartphones, replete with bird calls. What to do? As usual, skill is needed, however you employ your array of devices, apps or pencils. You have to be quick, and have the ability to get the big picture as well as the very small. I remind myself that the reason I'm here, the reason I go anywhere is to be outside in the natural world, away from the bustle of man made things. Focusing in on what I see as most important; flora and fauna, and how they interact, and how I might interact with them, even just as an observer. You see, it makes me feel alive in a way that the city never can.
Well, enough pontificating on nature vs. man, and let me give you the particulars about my location stops and sightings. I got up on the morning of the 28th to no wind at all and a beautiful sunny day. I watched my neighbors pack up and I did likewise. I drove up to the farm and walked around, chasing some Say's phoebes and western kingbirds around with the camera. Saw a lizard and some dragonflies as well as some lovely flowers down by the river. Said goodbye to Cottonwood Canyon and headed south towards Condon. Once through the town, I was headed south on 206 to Wehrli Canyon Rd. This stretch is pretty cool, with cattails and rush grasses and bands of small trees down in roadside gullies. I found a place about two miles up to park and walked back down the road for over a mile. Saw a yellow-breasted chat, which was probably what I heard in one bush and exchanged calls with for a while. Sort of sounds like a catbird, and what a hilarious chat we had. It was already noon at this point and I knew I needed to get a move on. Drove up out of the canyon and followed the road as it turned south. I turned down Cemetery Rd. and flushed about 50 horned larks and western kingbirds along a couple mile stretch of fenced farm fields. They're not too bright and when startled, they just fly a few feet forward, only to be startled anew three seconds later. Finally they process that they need to fly off into the field to avoid my truck, and so I'm left alone. I approach and pulled into a pioneer cemetery with some old gravestones, and of course horned larks perched on various stones. I found one of a Nancy Hawk who died in 1900. What was life like there, just outside of Mayville in 1900? Not much different than it is now I suspect, except most of the now decrepit homes were probably intact and there was probably no electricity. Well, bless you for your pioneering life Nancy and for a wonderful surname like Hawk; how brilliant.
lark sparrow
say's phoebe
blue sailor
yellow breasted chat
song sparrow
red-tailed hawk juvenile
horned lark
western kingbird
I popped back out on 206 and decided I was ready for lunch and what better place to stop for a picnic in the area than Dyer Wayside? J.W. Dyer gave the land to the county back in 1931. It's about a half acre that has some picnic benches and two old fashioned outhouses with some nice shade trees planted like a park. It got a little shabby apparently, so in 1997, some local volunteers got together and spruced it up. Now with a sprinkler system powered by a generator at the back of the park, there's a bright green lawn and a small army of robins hunting for worms and insects. I had to laugh at the ingenuity of those robins, finding this oasis a half an hour south of the Columbia River, them and one flycatcher, one western tanager and a northern flicker. I rested, ate my lunch, and headed up the road directly behind the wayside, Ramsey Canyon Rd. It was similar to Wehrli Canyon in growth, and I scared the crap out of two mule deer that I didn't see until it was too late. I quietly hoofed it back to the truck to give them a chance to regroup without having to run out into the road. I did see a couple of birds including some juveniles who were hopping along the road, too small and pale to be robins but with a beak like one. I was at a loss, but with the help of another birder who has recently seen a similar family, finally ID'd them as juvenile rock wrens! I also found a bit of what looks like a femur which I snagged for the collection, bovine, cervid or coyote, I'm not sure yet.
juvenile rock wrens; gregarious and curious birds
western tanager
olive-sided flycatcher
drying cow or deer skull
mourning dove
I headed up and out of that canyon to loop back to 206 from the east side through Carter Hill Rd, and come out right in the middle if Mayville, which has the coolest collection of dilapidated barns and homes in central Oregon. It's a ghost town which is still kind of alive, so I always feel like I shouldn't stop to take pictures because the land owner might still be nearby, in one of those trailers out back. It is very picturesque though, you'll know what I mean if you see it. I headed south to find Kinzua Rd. which heads east climbing up the hills into the Umatilla Forest. I found my way from my map, ignoring the more complicated and lengthy directions from an online birding site for Gilliam County. My way seemed more direct, and was also a very pretty drive. But then I started to see extensive signage warning me of private land, and that the area was patrolled so don't even think about it. I pulled over at one spot anyway, and followed a path in for a few minutes, and then came back out to find a small family of deer grazing in the hollow below the curve of the road. I drove away slowly so as to not startle them, and continued up the hill, pausing to let a family of mountain quail race across the road, as I scrambled for my camera to capture it. Man, those birds are quick! The road passed a sign for a golf course and then turned to gravel and ended within a couple miles at a fence. It was private, and this is why the online directions were so complicated, they were avoiding this whole parcel of land, duh. Oh well, as I drove back down, I found a place to pull out and walk along the road without actually trespassing. I hung out with some mountain chickadees, calling back and forth, and saw what I think was a brewer's sparrow. Also caught an Oregon silverspot butterfly on some purple nettle flowers, which was lovely. High desert forest is so nice and airy, with very little underbrush, and those lush long needled ponderosa pines. The air feels clean and smells great, and the birds seem to know they've got it made. I drove back down the hill, slowing at the turn where the deer were still hanging out and munching. We exchanged a look that said, "Yep, that's about right," and went our separate ways.
mule deer
mountain chickadee
brewer's sparrow
oregon silverspot butterfly
mountain quail
Since I felt a little short changed on the mountain forest exploring, I thought I would drop in at the slightly dilapidated, but oh so delightful Julia Henderson Pioneer Park. I love this place. The first time I went there was probably around 2004, on my first crazy drive out into central Oregon. It feels like a summer camp from the late 70's that has been abandoned. You drive into this little park with a open stage in the center, picnic benches on one side, and long green benches on the other, with a few outhouses dotted around the hillside. There are a couple of wooden footbridges spanning the little creek that runs through the center of the park and actually under the stage. The creek is fed or maybe created by a natural spring, and there are four metal spigots spouting this clean clear cold water around the center of the park. Needless to say, the grass is green, plant life is abundant, and this little valley oasis in the middle of high desert forest is wonderful to stumble across. And what birds did I see here? Again with the robins, and I'm not kidding at all; one flycatcher, one western tanager and one northern flicker. Really? In the second green oasis, the exact same birds as the first? Hmm.. I have no answers, only admiration for the mysteries of the universe.
Watered and fed again, I packed up the truck and headed north back to the highway. As I headed toward Fossil, I ran into a cattle drive that I had to weave through with the help of the family herding them up the road, dogs and all. Awesome cowboyness. Not long after, as I drove down into canyons and back up out of them, I encountered some bigger birds that I was unfamiliar with crossing the road. Two had already cleared the oncoming lane and were headed down the embankment, but the third was still on the right hand side, hesitating. I came to a full stop and this bird looked at me, so I waved it on, and it ran across the road joining the other two. I love this relationship you can have with animals on the roads out here. A perfect example came in a couple of miles. I approached a mule deer doe with her two fawns tucked under her front legs, suckling with both their butts and tails poking out right under her chest. She was not even two feet from my lane, but she wasn't going anywhere. At least I hoped so and this was what I tried to to communicate to her with my wide eyed stare.. She looked right at me, and as I passed her, and turned back to check, she was still staring right at me, the two fawns seemingly oblivious to all this traffic confusion. Wow.. and within another ten miles I flushed three more of those same birds that I wasn't familiar with, but this time they flew away, although they didn't look at all happy about it. Kind of in the same way pheasants don't, as they try to run into the brush, then freaked out, they clumsily take off into the air. "Whaddya call these things again? Wings? Well, I guess it's faster than running.." I've looked them up and turns out they're female sage grouses, which is a life bird for me, so right on. One more super cool bird I saw, right before the intersection of Monkland Rd., was a merlin being chased by something smaller, maybe a kingbird. I knew by its shape that it was a merlin, but its coloring seemed wrong. It was paler and seemed to have an almost light blue cast to its feathers. Arrgh, I couldn't help but think, why am I always finding these "mystery" birds when I can't take a picture for classifying? So I was pretty excited to page through my guide later to see that there is a 'prairie form' of the merlin, and that was exactly what I saw.
I made it back out to Biggs Junction, got another tank of gas from the same attendant, and watched some poor bastards try to jimmy their own car door open with a clothes hanger for a minute. I cleaned off the majority of the dead bugs, then raced back home I-84 west with the sun setting in my eyes for the next hour and a half. There were still american white pelicans on the Columbia River, fishing and roosting not too far east of The Dalles; I really love seeing them. It was a good trip out, if not a little rushed. The temps rose again the next day, so I'm glad I had that window of opportunity to see some birds and check out some new spots in familiar stretches. It's fun to take the time to drive down those roads that you always wondered about. Makes me look forward to my autumn desert trip all the more. Until next time, happy trails!
If you weren't already aware, Oregon was hit with some high temperatures early this summer. We apparently set a record for the hottest June, breaking the previous record of 1992. I find that alarming. And as a result, the air conditioner for my home office was dragged out of the box and was installed toot sweet. The temperature that everyone was alternately terrified or thrilled by depending on your attitude was the 102 predicted for the 27th, but the clouds came in the night before and actually kept us down to a chill low 90's. But that same day, Pendleton, out in eastern Oregon, broke it's own standing record since 1961 with a whopping 109 degrees. This number and others were rattled off by the tv weather people as if it weren't absolutely insane. 109 degrees?? 109?!? I mean, isn't that Nevada desert weather? Shouldn't livestock and old people be dropping like flies all around the region? When I ask this question of my friends, I'm reassured that animals are smart and will find some shade and just rest through the day. But what if there are no trees? Have you been out to Pendleton lately? It's not what I would describe as wooded, being mostly open pasture lands.. Well, I guess I'm overreacting, because I didn't hear about any significant deaths in the media, but I definitely decided to postpone the six day trip I was planning out to eastern Oregon on July 5th.
I had made these plans back in May when the idea of blistering temps wasn't really an issue. As the date of my departure approached and local temps had climbed into and stayed firmly in the mid 90's, my mind went back to some of my previous summer trips out in the high desert. The mornings are fine and you often start your day at six because the sun is up and so are all the birds and bugs. But by 9:30 or 10, the thermostat starts rising and you need to plan your movements accordingly. If you're hiking or treasure hunting or even just hanging by the river, shade needs to be utilized and lots of water needs to be ingested. I've come up with a variety of cooling strategies involving wet bandannas, spray bottles and generally just dunking your clothes in water and then putting them back on. This is all well and good, but my days often resulted in my hiding under any nearby trees, or under a tarp canopy rigged next to my truck, and fighting the onset of heat exhaustion. So I have survived on these trips in the past, but the question this time was: knowing in advance that the temps were going to be severe, would I be able to have a decent trip or would I just be torturing myself? I chose not to risk it, to postpone that week of wonderful places to see to the first week of October. At least at that point I can light a fire if I want to and have some nice cool nights as well as moderate temps in the day.
But in the meantime, what was I going to do with this time I'd scheduled off from work, and how the hell was I going to get away from these dreadful temperatures? You got it, head to the coast. It's about 30 degrees cooler and even a bit foggy. Our hot temps here in the Willamette valley tend to create foggy conditions at the coast, so I was so ready to go grab a couple days of typical NW early spring weather. I decided to head back down to the southern coast because I fell in love with it the first time I explored it just a couple of years ago. I had been to Cape Arago then, as well as Port Orford, Bandon and Gold Beach, and I decided on a pretty similar route this time..
Got up early on Sunday July 5th, packed the truck and headed south on I-5. Was torn between heading east on highway 38 along the Umpqua River, which is my favorite beach highway so far in Oregon, or checking out highway 42, which is a little further south and getting to see a new road. The curiosity won out and I gassed up at Roseburg, then headed east on highway 42. It wasn't particularly scenic, but nor was it that crowded. It was mostly two lanes at the beginning and when it became a single lane, I just pulled over to let a few people pass. I enjoy my drives out of town too much to let tailgating drivers piss me off. All in all, I wasn't too impressed with this road, that is, not until I got to the town of Coquille. At that point, the road to the coast turns to 42S, and runs another 18 miles through very pretty farmland and coastal sloughs until it ends at Bandon. And the temperature had now dropped considerably, so the air was cool and wonderful.
I'd been driving about four and a half hours in the heat, and was feeling pretty rough at this point. I had planned on heading south to Gold Beach and camping on the Rogue River, then working my way back north the following two days, but the enticing proximity of Edson Creek campground lured me in and I decided to head there and call it a night. This really sweet little campground is 5 miles north of the town of Port Orford, and 4 miles west of 101 on Sixes River Rd. There isn't running water and it has vault toilets, but it's really pretty and serene. It's a very modest $6 and there are 27 sites. I chose a grassy spot on the second meadow which I had to myself, with the creek to my back. I set up my truck, made some food and just decompressed. Walked down to the creek and fished out an entire cut up watermelon that previous campers had dumped in the water, clearly mistaking it for a trashcan. Have I mentioned how much I like people? But the creek was lovely and I took a few pictures, then went back to the campsite for a nightcap and some quality reading in the back of my truck until I fell asleep. The one thing that is a little bit of a drag about the Edson campground is that a forest service road continues past it along the west side and seems to be a pretty popular road to parts unknown. There was a fair amount of coming and going along it which can be a little jarring when you're trying to chill or sleep, but all in all it's bearable, and tends to die down at nightfall. As always, my first night in the truck isn't my best sleep, so I attempted to sleep in a little later in the morning to make up for it, at least until my neighbor's chatter woke me up. I was on the road not too much later, heading out to the lighthouse at Cape Blanco, just a couple miles north. Was beautiful and blustery, I snapped some photos, then headed south.
Edson Creek
Cape Blanco lighthouse and headlands
Douglas Iris
Stopped in Port Orford at the southern tip of town at the public beach. Headed down to the beach and took some pics of the vultures on their fishy carcass, some rocks, gulls, and swallows. So glad to be here, with the lovely gray skies, and the waves and the salt spray and the call of the birds.
Man, I love the coast.
Turkey vulture on mystery fish
Heerman's gull
Immature western gull
Bullwhip seaweed
barn swallow
Kept heading south and stopped a few more times at various beaches, then rolled through Gold Beach. Got a cup of coffee and headed south to Pistol River, driving up to and around the lovely Humbug Mountain along the way. I wanted to hike that trail on my last trip and this one as well, but the top half of the mountain was covered in fog, so I knew I wouldn't be able to see any views. I probably should have just done it anyway; oh well, next time. I pulled in at Pistol River, loaded my camera and gear in my back pack and hiked down to the south side of the beach. Brought along Teds, my intrepid travel companion through thick and thin. This is what happens when you really love animals. Like, "should have been a veterinarian" loves animals, and yet you're allergic to most of them. Sigh, maybe in my next life.. Until then, there's Teds.
Teds!
Pistol river emptying into the Pacific
Immature western gulls
Western sandpipers
Found some playful immature western gulls eating in the surf as well as a pair of western sandpipers and a few sand dollars kindly left by previous visitors in the rocks. Thank you, don't mind if I do. Took some pics of waves crashing and then had this creeping fear that I'd left my lights on. This happens to me all the time, and often at the coast, where the gray rainy weather necessitates lights, and then I'll drive home to sunny Portland, and not even think about checking them. This very thing took place on my last trip to Cannon beach in May. The next day the battery was dead and although I had AAA jumpstart it, I still had to buy a new one later that day at Les Schwab.. You people, with your newer cars where the lights turn off automatically, you don't know what fun you're missing. So here I was, with the very real fear and no memory whatsoever of turning the lights off. Shit! Shit, shit, shit. I decided that if I just hoofed it back to the parking lot, it would have only been about an hour and I should be fine either way. That beach was way longer than it looked, but I eventually got back to the river and climbed over the dunes to find my truck safe and sound with the lights off. Sigh of relief.. Was a good thing really, as I needed desperately to change into something cooler. The day was still overcast but much warmer than when I'd dressed at the campsite, so time to transition into shorts.
I really love being on the road with my little home in my truck. I become that person who changes their clothes in ten seconds between cars driving by, the person who can quickly pee behind any bush without anyone being the wiser, and the person who pulls down the tailgate to fry up a quick sausage on my single burner stove. Then I quickly pack it up and I'm on my way. I'm a good gypsy, a good traveller, but of course I'm also totally on my own, doing whatever suits me. Sometimes I want company, sometimes I don't. I often find people to talk to on the road, at campgrounds or pullouts, I've had some good talks, met some nice people, and it makes it more interesting, hearing their stories.
So I'd decided to head back north to Gold Beach, and any points in between. I stopped at a couple beaches along the way, looking for tidal pools, rocks of interest, shorebirds, flowers, driftwood, seaweed, any and all of it looked good through my camera lens. I took off my shoes and wandered around into the water at spots; the Pacific was pretty cold, but refreshing.
Dudleya Farinosa aka sea lettuce
Pigeon Guillemot, kind of my new fave sea bird
By the time I got back into Gold Beach it was late afternoon, and I decided I should head up to my campground to make sure I was going to get a spot. I took a right on Jerry's Flat Rd on the south side of the Rogue River and headed east about 9 miles on a curvy and pretty stretch of road. Lobster Creek campground is on your left, and you can drive through the campground and come out to the day use area on the huge gravel bar there at the curve of the Rogue. You can camp out there for free if you want to, there were a couple of campers and a tent out close to the river, but there is no tree cover on the gravel bar. I decided I preferred the shade and privacy of a campsite and headed back in to choose the site across from the bathrooms and the host's RV. There are only seven spots here, but there is running water and plumbed bathrooms, so I was fine with the $10 fee. I backed in under the two huge myrtle trees and set up camp. Made some food and had a chat with a fellow named Ted who was two spaces up. He was a cool older liberal guy who had quit working at the age of 39 and been on the road ever since. He was admiring the "simplicity of my set up", as he put it, and we talked about all sorts of things until he went back to his trailer and left me to my Indian curry packet and a fried sausage.. Ahh, camp food. That night I slept better, although there was a lot random traffic on the road, which was apparently right over me up the shaded embankment. I made it through the night, and woke up to lovely sunshine dappling through the trees. I picked some myrtle leaves for drying, packed up and headed back to town. Apparently you can use them like bay leaves, so I'm excited to experiment. Lovely trees.
Lobster Creek campground and the gracious myrtles
I planned to head to Floras Lake as I passed back through Port Orford. The temperature was warmer but still so pleasant compared to what I'd been suffering through in PDX. I did the nature walk at Floras Lake, spotting a savannah sparrow and what I think were some pine siskins, one sort of nesting right on the path. I skirted through the woods to avoid scaring it in case it was hurt. Went out to the edge of the lake and watched two windsurfers try to get going. Walked out to the ocean and enjoyed it's sheer emptiness and space, as the occasional gull or cormorant swept along over the waves. It's a nice place to sit and gather your thoughts. Headed back to the parking lot to once again peel off some layers, then head north to Bandon Beach.
I drove in through the beach loop drive, and parked at the top of the stairs, climbing down onto Face Rock beach just a bit south of my last sojourn onto it. Last time I had parked downtown and walked south from there. I found that same spot today as I walked north up the beach. That was where the interesting rock formations were, as well as most of the wildlife, from tide pools to birds to harbor seals. The incoming tide prevented me from going any farther north, but I found the point where I had seen my first and only marbled murrelet two years ago, so that was cool. Today was all about the pair of oyster catchers feeding on the rocks and the pod of harbor seals that eventually showed up. The water was lovely and I stood in it up to my knees snapping photos of everything. It was perfect weather and a great beach to stop at. I climbed the stairs back to my truck, talked to some ladies behind their birding scopes, asking if they had seen any puffins today. They said they thought puffins were around but tended to stick to the front of the rocks in front of us. Of course they did, those devious little sasquatches!
Mourning Dove
Pine Siskin
Savannah Sparrow
Beach at Floras Lake
Bandon beach seaweed
Harbor Seal
American Oystercatcher
I dusted the sand off my feet, and headed north to Coos Bay where I stopped for a Whopper, fries and a medium soda (this is medium, it's like 20 oz??). I do this a couple of times a year, almost exclusively on my camping trips, when I've run out of food. It was disgusting and tasty. My plan was to leave Reedsport heading east on 38 no later than 3:30pm so I could make it back to PDX with enough time to unpack and relax. I turned east on schedule, resisted the temptation to pull over and take more photos of a drowsing elk herd at the Dean Creek elk viewing area. Something about the way they're always there, conveniently near the walkway makes me feel like its a zoo and sort of depresses me. But it's a really pretty stretch of greenery, and they do have a bathroom. With a bladder my size, I know where every frickin' bathroom in the state is. I should make a pamphlet for other frequent bathroom break victims; it's what inquiring minds want to know.
This drive is really one of my favorites, especially the early portion where the Umpqua is wide and glorious. It becomes narrower and shallower and after you cross over it some miles in, the river bed that's now on your right side becomes littered with large rocks, almost more rock than water it seems. The temperature began to rise as I crossed the hills and approached the inland valley, and as I approached Elkton and then Drain, I was growing acutely warm as well as drowsy. I foraged in my bags for a can of Dr. Pepper and dumped it in the cup over the remains of ice from my previous soda. It gave me enough caffeine to get me through, although I eventually had to took a caffeine pill too. It was hot and with no air conditioning, this was going to be a long drive. Highway 38 dumps you out on I-5 at Cottage Grove which is about 125 miles south of PDX. And I would be hitting Eugene and then Salem at rush hour. But I was lucky, and other than the usual game of Frogger in two lanes, I didn't hit any stopped traffic until I was approaching Portland. I promptly exited the highway and took back roads home. Was home by seven and got the truck unpacked and got some sushi from Fred Meyer for dinner. I had a really wonderful two and a half days taking in the southern coast, cooling off and seeing some new sights. Another place I intend to keep visiting, and next time I'll climb Humbug Mt. with or without the sun. Go check it out, it's waiting for you. and happy trails!
and if you would like to see the photos larger, just click on them to see the whole photo stream.
