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We left our pretty (but littered) campsite on Sunday morning after I warmed up some. It was a short drive down off the mountain and into Burns where we stopped to resupply our groceries and get gas. From Burns we were heading south to French Glen and on down along the Catlow Valley to the junction to Fields Station before turning north again and coming around the east face of Steens Mountain. In essence, we were circling the mountain.

It’s a long old drive through some fascinating country. Just south of Burns, you climb a steep hill – sort of like up and over a short, narrow ridge of basalt and sagebrush. On the other side, you drop down into a dry lake bed. Actually, it is two dry lake beds: Malheur and Harney Lakes. 24 years ago when I first saw this country, the lakes were at a five-hundred-year flood level and actually met out there, flooding out homes and the highway (which is built on a dike). But the water has long since receded and memories are short (we saw new homes out on those alkali flats that not so long ago were under deep water).

The highway circles around Malheur National Wildlife Refuge which is a marshy refuge that is home to birds most often associated with the ocean: pelicans, avocets, white-faced ibises, a myriad of ducks, geese and even occasional swans. It’s great country for an avid birder. Also hiding out on the refuge are trophy mule-deer bucks and big antelope bucks.

All around this country are large cattle ranches and much of the drive is through what we call “open range”. Basically, cattle have the right of way.

Which brings me to the cattle drive. There’s nothing quite like being stuck in the middle of a cattle drive. Don and I may be from Portland these days, but we grew up in rural counties of Oregon and Nevada. We grew up with the knowledge of how to drive through one: essentially, you slow down to a mere crawl and wait for the cows to part. Try to move too quickly and Bossy might kick out a head lamp. And there’s the cow poop to deal with.

I did the tourist thing and took photos through the windshield. I mean, why not?

Here we have a nice crowd of Angus-cross cows and calves, with plenty more trailing up the highway to meet us. You can see why coming to an almost stop might be necessary: bovine intelligence comes to a complete standstill as the cows contemplate bolting to one side or another or back the way they just came from.

Back the way they just came from ride the cowboys on ATVs or horses.

In this case, back the way they came were two very tired, hot, dusty cowgirls and their equally hot, tired, dusty Quarterhorses. After I snapped the photo, the girls gave us a Princess wave and we all laughed.

There were cowboys coming up, too, but they were big boys on ATVs and not as photogenic.

We continued on to French Glen without incident. At French Glen, you are on the western slope of Steens Mountain and it seems less than impressive because you are on the gradual side. But that changes on the eastern side.

It’s a steep climb out of French Glen over a long plateau before you drop down into the Catlow Valley and the Roaring Springs Ranch country. You really have to watch for loose cattle on this section of the drive, but we were more focused on what might be crossing the road without any legs.

(Wanna hear a bad joke? What do you call a cow with no legs? Answer at the end of this post.)

We try to avoid running over snakes. They could be bull snakes, for one thing, and who wants to kill a bull snake? Or they could be a racer or something else “benign”. But most often they are exactly what we found: a Great Basin rattlesnake. A fat one, too, full of some poor golden-mantle groundsquirrel dinner and making for the sagebrush as quickly as it could.

This is the only time I approach a rattler: when it is clearly on the retreat off of hot pavement. Even so, I didn’t get anywhere near striking distance to this beauty.

We made sure it cleared the road, then we headed on down to the pass between the Catlow Ridge and the Pueblo Mountains that would drop us down into the ancient lake bed of Lake Lahontan. And there will be more on that tomorrow (or when next I update my blog).

Answer: Ground beef. I told you it was BAD.

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I have very little time for the computer tonight (I’m behind on reading blogs but I *will* get caught up). How time just flies right now.

Last Saturday we crossed over the Cascades and dropped down into the more arid part of the state. It always fascinates me how you can be in the midst of fir forests with thick underbrush and moss on one side and on the other side, you’re into tall Ponderosa pine forest and a different kind of underbrush. Right on the Santiam Pass, the forest is all dead sticks: a reminder of forest fires past and a legal battle over salvage logging. The loggers lost that battle and the snags stand rotting, but the thick undergrowth provides a different kind of habitat and smaller mammals thrive. The corridor into Sisters and Bend has been managed to look like a forest preserve along the highway with all the undergrowth burned out (presumably to help stop wildfires through all the resorts).

Once past Sisters, we veered into Redmond and Prineville and country that is a mix of sagebrush land and pine forest, sometimes giving way to juniper forest. We took a back road to Post (the geographical center of Oregon) and on to Izee before we dropped south on a Forest Service road. A side note on Post: we once stopped there when the entire town was having a yard sale.

Don had an idea that we could camp at a USFS designated campground but when we got to that site, it was full. And full was really not what we wanted with two big dogs that like to bark at other dogs and children on bicycles. So we back-tracked a little and took a chance on a spur road and found a beautiful site right on a creek.

The only problem was…

We got to clean up after the previous campers.

There were more in the trees everywhere. Nearly all of the junk had been purchased at Safeway, so my bet is that the culprits live in Burns (the nearest Safeway). They used the cans for target practice. After we cleaned it up, the site was nice. And on our way through Burns, I deposited all the trash in the Safeway trash cans. Had anyone attempted to stop me, I would have pointed out that it was all Safeway trash and they ought to thank me for cleaning up the campsite and returning the items to the store that sold them.

It’s one of my pet peeves: people can haul all this stuff out into the woods (or on a backpack trip) when it’s full. But when it is empty and no longer weighs anything, they can’t be bothered to life a finger to pick it up and haul it back out. Yeah, I see that as real macho.

But garbage aside, we were beginning to relax.

We didn’t see many wild animals (probably pretty gun-shy after the last party), but we were at least in a healthy strip of Ponderosa pine with currants and sagebrush and wild grasses still green for the undercover. The stream had a healthy population of frogs, fingerling trout, and dragonfly nymphs. The mosquitoes were minimal, but that could have been our fancy new ‘Skeeter Beaters and the fact that the temperature dropped to less than 37-degrees (F) overnight.

Yeah, it got cold. Good thing we pack our winter coats when we go on vacation to the desert in August: I wore mine all morning plus a pair of fleece gloves to keep my hands cold. No camp fire: fire danger was “Extreme” or “High” everywhere we went. And just around the corner from this camp was a grim reminder of why a camp fire in August is not such a great idea.

I took the photo on the move, hence the window reflection.

Love the cows.

Until the next post – Jaci

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Whirlwind Outta Here!

I crave the desert. It’s been nearly three years since I’ve been camping on the desert and I can feel it in my soul. The quick drive through to Colorado last year was not quite enough to sate my hunger for the lonely stretches of sagebrush and alkali. I think I have alkali in my blood. Alkali and high reaches.

In planning our week of vacation, I vacillated on where to go: explore new country in the timber or press Don to go clear across the state to the Alvord with two large dogs? In the end, he was the one who decided we could manage the trip to the desert with the dogs. He even planned how we could camp by water nearly every night. It was an incredible relief to me to think I was going back to the high desert country! I need sagebrush and white dust and magpies, mountain bluebirds, western meadowlarks, and the vast vistas. You cannot see nearly as far in this country as you can in the high desert mountains. I get claustrophobic when I cannot see long distances.

We set a little contest: who would see the first meadowlark (me)? Mountain bluebird (Don)? Magpie (me)? Black-tailed jack rabbit (Don)?

When we set out on a trip like this, I keep a notebook handy to record how many animals we see and what kind: birds for my life-list, butterflies, mammals and reptiles. If we go during wildflower season, I track the wildflowers we discover. I journal more during vacation than any other time during the year, probably because I haven’t got the distractions of a wired life hanging over me.  I also usually take along a box to put little things in: bits of wood, rocks, wildflower seeds – anything that is interesting that I think could be translated into art (seeds plant my garden which is art). This year, I merely took photos of the things I saw that inspired me.

We live at about 180-feet elevation and our destination is always 3,000-feet or more above sea level. High desert refers to the elevation as much as it does the arid country. It is not a “desert” that is devoid of life (those are very rare – even the Sahara has life in the endless dunes). High desert is full of life: plants, creeks, pools, insects, reptiles, birds, mammals. There is no void. Indeed, I did not know that other people thought of desert as a place that is always hot and has no life in it until I left the high desert!

Hot? It also has extremes in cold. Lifeless? Sandy? Desolate? I guess it depends on your point of view. If you have lived all your life in places where the horizon is green and not shades of brown, grey, and purple, then the desert is devoid. But, honestly: how many shades of green are there? They seem infinite in the Willamette Valley or the Cascades. The high desert country has more variety of color in a single vista, and not merely shades of green. (Don’t get me wrong: I love the vistas of the Oregon Cascades. They are steep, intimidating, rugged, and innately wild.)

A “hot” streak was moving into the lower Willamette Valley as we headed out. Temperatures were predicted to hit triple digits with corresponding humidity, a rare occasion in the Valley. We were headed into country that is dryer and sometimes a whole lot warmer.

We hit the road on Friday night as soon as I was off work. Traffic was a nightmare, so we took a backroad through Molalla and Silverton (I need to take my brother to Silver Falls out of Silverton sometime) down to Oregon Hwy 20. Then we turned east and cruised up along the North Santiam River to Detroit.

This was Harvey’s first real road trip and we learned a lot about Harvey. He gets car sick if you feed him before you leave (we had one other dog that did that and I get car sick if I can’t be in the front seat, so there’s a lot of empathy for him). He barks going down the road, but we attributed that to getting car sick.

Our first destination was Presley Lake which we are certain is named for some ancestor of Don’s but we haven’t discovered the history of the lake (yet). We’ve been there many times over the years. Sadly, this year other campers were staked out on the only available shoreline and we had to camp back in the trees. It was probably just as well because the wind came up and blew all night. It did curtail photo opportunities, however, since we could not get down to the water.

(whirlwinds on the Alvord Desert)

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Did You Miss Me?

I’ve been out of town for the past nine days and today was spent sorting through over 260 photos (narrowed down to 190-something).

Don and I loaded up the dogs into their car kennels and took them on a road trip to the high desert of Oregon’s Outback country. Our destination was in the very southeastern corner of the state: the Alvord Desert which is situated at the eastern base of Steens Mountain. It’s country that is rife with interesting geology, a healthy insect population, migratory birds (Malheur Wildlife Refuge is on the northwestern side of Steens Mountain with all of its wild marshes), reptiles and a few mammals. It is also one of our very favorite vacation destinations.

I will be posting about our adventures and the critters over the next few days (unless something else comes up and interrupts me). For now, I need to continue on with sorting through all those photos.

But before we left, we welcomed a new little life into our own little world: Eliran Jeremy Weisser was born at 6:37PM on August 12, 9#4oz and 21″ long. Eliran is Hebrew for “God is my Song”. He’ll be called Eli for short and he seemed so tiny when I held him Friday afternoon.

What can I say?

This is why they call them GRAND children. 🙂

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Black and White

Two boys, finally exhausted from bowling each other over in the back yard.

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I am SO BUMMED. I took several photos of the sunrise this morning and absolutely NONE of them came out with the blood-red color of the sun as it rose above the smokey horizon to the east. It was a breath-taking red and why the camera couldn’t capture that color is probably a physics issue.

What the camera saw was this:

But what I saw was more like this:

Yeah, I had to color that in.

But it really was that breath-taking of a red sun. The smoke is from several wildfires in Washington State and in Central Oregon and as the sun rose up through the haze, it was glowing red.

I’m sad the photos did not come out – I waited all day to upload them and see. Crushing disappointment. If the sun is red tomorrow, I will take several more photos, changing my camera settings every time. Surely I will get one to come out??? I’d hate to face that disappointment again.

But I will live.

And speaking of living (this is totally unrelated to red suns): the duck is still alive! He was still hanging out at the same pond, in almost the same place he’s been since his last sibling died, but he’s lost his black-and-yellow down! The pin feathers are coming in and he’s starting to look like a mallard! A little mallard, but a mallard all the same. And he’s still living. If he gets much older, he will look like all the rest of the young mallards and we will lose track of him, but that’s a good thing. I am just amazed that a little orphan duck could survive so long.

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Last few photos

And I am done with Photo 365.

Geese circling for landing – 363/365

A boring photo of ducks in a goose-feather lined pond. 364/365

And while he’s hard to see over there in the right hand side of the photo just above the brown spot of lawn, the last surviving duckling orphan is taking a nap.

We found the other baby dead on the lawn on the 27th. He was upside down and whole: my walking partner thinks a crow or something tried to carry him off & dropped him. Who knows? But the last duckling hasn’t traveled far since the loss of its last sibling.

Today I noted that it was keeping fairly close to the lone duck in the pond. 3 weeks old and the only survivor. But ducks don’t feel things the way humans do, and perhaps it is not as lonely as I imagine it is. Maybe a little lost on how to survive, but it’s made it this far. One week closer to pin feathers and one week closer to learning to fly.

And that’s the end of the story – for now.

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Dogs & Camping

Don said this would be our “test run” with the dogs before a week long vacation. And it was a test run.

First, there was the logistics of packing two big dog crates into the rig plus all of our gear for just a weekend. Note to self: we need to streamline. We used to be streamlined, back when the kids were little and the only car we had was a 1984 Ford Escort that we took everywhere (and I mean on some roads you wouldn’t take a 4×4 down – we were pretty insane).

Anyway, dogs and camping. It was a lot of fun having them both with us and seeing how they interact. Harvey is young enough that he is still a puppy and he loves to watch Murphy. In fact, he’s started to emulate Murphy. <Ahem> That’s not funny, Harvey! But it could also bring wisdom.

The first time we put a shock collar on Harvey and let him off of his lead, he headed straight down the road to the wilderness, not a look back! ACK! After a quick lesson on boundaries, he started staying closer, but we still had to really watch him. He’s like a hound following his nose…

Speaking of his nose: he froze into a perfect point. Of course I have no photos because carrying the camera and trying to manage Harvey was not possible, so I left the camera in camp. Harvey not only pulled a perfect point, but he held it until I came up beside him and flushed the grouse out. Lordy, he was excited to have a bird! Both dogs worked that thicket for several minutes until we pulled them away. It was a beautiful thing, seeing the bird dog come out in my rescue dog.

He was into birds several times. We don’t know if he is gun-shy. But it was fun to watch him work grouse and band tailed pigeons in the woods.

Murphy was not having the best trip. First, he smelled COYOTE. He hugged the perimeter of the campfire and growled out into the woods, tail tucked. Murphy is third in a line of dogs we have owned that knew what a coyote was and knew it meant a dog should stay close to the fire and humans. He’s not willing to tackle a coyote.

(Sadly, Harvey was oblivious. He knew the coyote was out there but didn’t seem to grasp the danger that presented. Hopefully, he will learn by Murphy’s example.)

The coyote must den near the camp. We found fresh spoor and scratch markings in the dirt that were a clear warning to the dogs: This is MY place. Scattered around that were several old piles of spoor. It was all in one place, a definite boundary marker.

Murphy was also bothered by the deer flies. Must be the dark coat because they buzzed Harvey and they buzzed the humans, but they attacked poor Murphy.

“Save me from the flies, Dad!!”

It was too brushy for me to feel comfortable taking Harvey out and working with him on the collar. He ranges ahead with Murphy and I trail behind Don. I felt like a nervous ninny or an over-protective mother. I didn’t enjoy it as much as I could have.

Harvey? Harvey was in Heaven.

He got to play in the “lake”. He followed his nose. He followed Murphy. He was a dog and he loved every second of it.

There’s a world of difference between the two breeds. Murphy – the Wire-Haired Pointing Griffon – is a calmer dog. He doesn’t have the nervous energy of all the previous bird dogs we have owned. He can relax completely. He still steals things, but he isn’t compelled to be constantly moving.

Harvey is just like our previous bird dogs: a bundle of nervous energy, constantly on the move. In the house, he’s calm as calm can be, but outside he has to be on the move constantly. He’s learning to steal things.

Yeah: “What Murphy does, I can do better” is Harvey’s motto. Murphy’s motto is “I’ll teach him all I know.”

In the end, we had a good time and I know now what to expect when we head out on a real vacation.

All ready to go home. Camp site is picked up and clean, fire has been doused and stirred, and dogs are loaded into crates. (Note: trash bag on top of Murphy’s crate: Haul it in – Haul it OUT!!)

I have three weeks to get ready for a REAL camping trip.

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A Simple Dinner

I have several friends who blog about cooking. You will notice that I do not blog about cooking. this is because while I like to bake occasionally and I sometimes enjoy making jelly, I categorically hate cooking. I am not a great cook, either. I don’t know if hating cooking came first or being a bad cook came first – and I don’t really care. I look forward to summer and barbecues because Don does nearly all the cooking in the summer.

Don made dinner for us on Friday. I even helped a little, but mostly I just took photos.

First, Don had to make a camp fire and we had to let it settle down into some very nice hot coals. We rarely camp when you can have a fire (forest fire season and all), but it’s been an especially wet and cold year here in the Pacific Northwest (sorry to everyone else who is enduring the “hottest summer on record”: ours is one of the coolest on record).

We chopped some turkey sausage, potatoes, carrots, red onion, red pepper and Roma tomato and put it on aluminum foil. Nope, nothing from our garden: it has been that lousy of a year for a garden!

Don spiced it up with some peppery spice he had in his camp box.

No, we didn’t add smoked oysters. But we forgot to pack the olive oil. Don’t you just hate that? You get out camping and sure enough – you forgot some important food item and you have to punt. In this case, we used the oil off of the smoked oysters and dribbled it generously over all the sausage and veggies (then we ate the oysters as an hors d’oeuvre).

We double-wrapped it in aluminum foil but if you used heavy duty wrap, you probably wouldn’t have to.

Don set the packages on the hot coals.

And the timing begins. Every ten minutes, turn the foil packages over.

Don used a shovel and welding gloves to turn the packages over.

Forty minutes later…

Think maybe we could have done this in 30 minutes since there was a little bit of charring going on…

But darn, that was a good, hot meal! Everything was cooked through and soft & juicy! It wasn’t so burnt that it tasted bad, so Don rescued it out of the fire in plenty of time.

Yummy!

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We’re home and it’s hot. Too hot to sit up here in my studio and post to my blog, so I am merely posting a “teaser” that will catch me up on the photo per day for 365 days challenge. These are 358-361:

A dog and his Human.

Summer Sky – not a cloud in sight!

Washington lilies were in bloom (named for Martha Washington, not the State). Can you see the spider?

And the orphan ducks are getting bigger! We only saw two of them today, but given their penchant for hiding, we’re not too worried. They’ve made it two weeks without a mama to protect them!

That’s it for tonight. It is supposed to get cooler tomorrow and as the week goes.

TTFN–

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