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Archive for July, 2009

Moo!

31 Jul
Paddling in Scappoose Bay

Paddling in Scappoose Bay

After my treacherous kayaking experience in Lost Creek Reservoir, I was on a mission to have a relaxing, uncomplicated, and enjoyable day of kayaking. We spent a weekend in St. Helens, Oregon with our friends (and former owners of our beloved Airstream), Bonnie and Steve. As owners of Scappoose Bay Kayaking, they were able to show us some great places to kayak around the bay. We failed to ask them for this information on the first day we kayaked thereby causing me to get stuck on a log in extremely shallow waters at one point – which I don’t recommend. (Note: While I remained significantly calmer during the log challenge, my paddling efforts (picture flailing arms and a lot of splashing) and scooting action in an attempt to remove my kayak from the log made me look ridiculous, was somewhat embarrassing, and failed to remove me from the log.) The next day, after talking with Steve and receiving a map of the area’s waterways (genius!), we set off to explore one of the nearby sloughs.

The Cunningham Slough

The Cunningham Slough

The water was relatively calm in the bay and very easy to navigate. I managed to avoid all logs and, thankfully, all boats entering and leaving the area…always a plus. Once we made our way over to the entrance of the slough, the change in environment was powerful. The water was unbelievably still, quite possibly the calmest waters in which I have paddled, and the surroundings were eerily quiet, so much that Chris and I felt a need to whisper at first. Saying very little to one another, we enjoyed the moment (of the calm waters, that is…not of the fact that we were not speaking) and paddled our way through the slough examining the shores for wildlife and taking in this beautiful scenery. We paddled for quite awhile when we both heard a noise in the distance. Looking at each other and affirming that, yes, we both heard it, we continued on our way with eyes glued to the shoreline.

Shhh...Do you hear something?

Shhh...Do you hear something?

Shortly after, we heard something moving on the shore behind the trees. We both stopped and sat completely still listening to this movement. This was not the sound of a small squirrel or a timid deer, but rather something much larger. Having just spoken the previous night of Steve and Bonnie’s recent close encounters with bears, I was sure it was a bear. A very a big one. It was slowly (and loudly) moving closer to the shore ready to reveal its beastly self. While Chris moved closer to the beast’s location (typical), I paddled quietly but quickly along so I was not sitting in front of the wild animal upon its introduction to us.

The noise grew closer. Was it a bear? A ferocious cougar? My heart pounded as I waited for the unknown beast to make its attack. Just a few more steps would reveal the mysterious creature and put our lives in danger. I was sure of it. Suddenly, there it was. Our eyes met. It was as big as a bear and mooing along with the other cows that were just down the path a little further. That’s right, a cow. Paddling through this beautiful area I expected to see wildlife. Beavers? Yes. A variety of birds? Yes. Cows? Um…not so much. I was somewhat disappointed that my terrifying beast was just a cow. For a split second I hoped that perhaps the cows would do something uncharacteristically drastic so that my next blog entry could be entitled, “When Cows Attack.”  Or, alternatively, a cow could at least jump out of the woods and scream, “Moo!” Get it? Like Boo! But Moo!…because it’s a cow. Yeah…Chris didn’t find it funny either. But, it gives me a chuckle. Just picture it and it might make you laugh, too. Unfortunately, no such events took place. Instead, the cows looked at me in an uninterested manner and walked away.

See!  No tears!  I knew I could do it!

See? No tears! I knew I could do it!

After several hours of paddling the calm waters, we returned to the dock, our pasty white skin not blinding society as much and our bodies feeling rejuvenated. It was a great day for paddling. The water was peaceful, the sun was shining, we had an incredible view of Mount St. Helens in the distance, and I was not crying nor was my voice making any horrible shrilling sounds. Mission accomplished!

 

My Very Own Splashwater Falls

23 Jul
Our campsite at Ainsworth State Park

Our campsite at Ainsworth State Park

Our week in the Columbia River Gorge area was excellent. After luckily finding a spot at Memaloose State Park for Sunday night, we moved on to nearby Ainsworth State Park for the remainder of the week. For the most part, I have been really pleased with Oregon’s parks but I was even more pleased when I learned that Ainsworth was one of the parks in which, with a coupon from the internet, you could stay two nights and get the third for free. Additionally, it was a first come-first served park so once we claimed our spot, it was ours for up to 14 days. If I could do cartwheels around our campsite without embarrassing myself, I totally would have. That is how excited I was to find this park.

Kiteboarding on the Columbia River

Kiteboarding on the Columbia River

Situated along the historic Columbia River Highway, we were 30 miles east of Portland, 30 miles west of Hood River (which makes me hum “Moon River“ every time I say or see the name and now I dare you not to do the same), and only minutes from the Columbia River, the area’s popular waterfalls and recreational activities, such as kiteboarding…an activity that Chris now wants to attempt. [Attempt = Go out and buy all the equipment necessary and then participate in this activity no more than five times].

Multnomah Falls

Multnomah Falls

After Chris finished work on Wednesday, we decided to explore the historic highway and its waterfalls. Multnomah Falls is the second highest year-round waterfall in the United States, falling 620 feet. The sight of this tiered waterfall was spectacular and we hiked the short trail to the bridge that crosses over the falls to get a closer look. The park, however, like the many others along this highway, was crowded so we took a few pictures and quickly moved along.

Wahkeena Falls

Wahkeena Falls

Our next stop was Wahkeena Falls, my favorite waterfall. We couldn’t really see the falls from the parking lot, so we followed a trail and arrived at a bridge that crossed right at the base of the falls. To my amazement, there was no one here. I stood on the bridge staring at the water as it came crashing down. The mist of the spray was refreshing after our uphill hike on a hot day. It was standing on this bridge with the mist hitting my face where I had a flashback to my childhood. And, yes, it is a happy memory (for my family who thinks I have no happy memories!) Picture it: Six Flags over Georgia. 1980s. My cousin, Gina, and I loved the water rides, especially Splashwater Falls. We’d go to the park in our bathing suits and stand in the ridiculous long line to ride the two-minute ride which literally takes you up a hill and then down another splashing you into a pool of water, hence the name. It was great fun. The best part, however, came after exiting the ride when we’d quickly go and stand on the bridge that overlooked the pool of water, stake out our spot, and impatiently wait for the next boat to drop down the hill causing water to pour over the bridge at a force powerful enough to nearly knock two small 10-year olds to the ground. We loved every second of it. So much, that I think we repeated that process dozens of time (probably annoying my incredibly patient parents).

My very own Splashwater Falls

My very own Splashwater Falls

Standing on the bridge at Wahkeena Falls with the water rushing beneath me and feeling the cool mist of the falls on my skin took me back to those fun childhood days when my only worry was whether I was standing on the part of the bridge where I would get sprayed by the most water. Here I was at my very own Splashwater Falls (minus the long lines, pushy people, amusement park smell, and, well…the mist wasn‘t exactly a powerful splash over the bridge…but you get the idea). It was a perfectly peaceful moment captured in photo by my husband who was perched on a rock high above the clearly marked trail and the signs that read, “Please stay on the trail.”

 

Up Around the Bend…With Reservations

22 Jul

Reservations are not our style. We (translation: Chris) prefer the excitement of the unknown and the flexibility that comes with having no reservations when we travel. It typically works out for us while causing only a few challenges here and there (and major worrying for me). This lifestyle goes against everything I was taught in my upbringing. In my family, reservations for any vacation are required and should be made at least, I repeat, AT LEAST, six months in advance (with multiple follow up phone calls made to the reserved hotels, car rental agencies, and airlines to confirm said reservation). So, this no-reservation traveling is an adjustment for me and I have learned to appreciate the benefits of being flexible with travel plans. That said, every now and then I feel a reservation is a necessity and Oregon campground reservations were starting to appear as a necessity. With our wonderful stay in Prospect, Oregon coming to an end, I booked a full five days for us at a campground near Bend, Oregon. I won’t lie to you…having confirmed plans felt good…really, really good.

Crater Lake

Crater Lake

Before landing at our new campground in Bend, we made a side trip to the absolutely amazing Crater Lake, the deepest lake in the United States with a depth of 1,943 feet (not to be confused with Claytor Lake in Virginia as a kind Virginian pointed out to me months ago. Um…thanks.). I had high expectations of this place and it did not disappoint. In fact, the lake exceeded my expectations in its serene beauty. The crystal blue waters were the bluest I had ever seen in a lake and contrasted nicely against the immensely green trees and the thick patches of white snow. That’s right…snow…in July.  Despite the frigid temperatures (for which we were not dressed), we managed to make a few stops around the rim and snap a few pictures of the amazing scenery.

Hoping for a pot of gold...or at least a campsite...at the end of that rainbow

Hoping for a pot of gold...or at least a campsite...at the end of that rainbow

With that worthwhile visit complete, we continued on to our campground and were excited to arrive early enough in the day to properly set up “camp” and enjoy a peaceful evening. We got to the campsite and backed into our site (Chris is now officially at the expert level of backing up a trailer…I, however, remain at the ignorant level for offering help and directions to him). Confident in my reservation-making ability and pleased with our new location, I opened the electrical box to hook up our power cord only to discover that the campsite did not have the proper amp service we required (despite my calling the campground, just as I was taught, to confirm certain amenities, including the amp service). We also quickly learned that our internet connection was weak and that presents an even more significant problem. After consideration of our options, we decided to leave the campground, surrendering our non-refundable deposit, in search of a new site for the week.

Giving the dogs a break in Central Oregon

Giving the dogs a break in Central Oregon

There were zero public park options around Bend. Oregonians really like their state parks (as they should) and all campsites were booked. We unfortunately had to skip Bend on this journey and continued driving north through parts of Oregon’s high desert terrain, catching incredible glimpses of the majestic Mt. Hood. At last, we entered the Columbia River Gorge region where we finally found a campsite…and , as typical with our travel style…no reservations necessary.

 

Oh, Do You Know the Mushroom Man?

15 Jul
Lost Creek Reservoir at Joseph H. Stewart State Park

Lost Creek Reservoir at Joseph H. Stewart State Park

We spent last week at what may be our favorite state park yet: Joseph H. Stewart State Park in Trail, Oregon. Perhaps it was because we had perfect weather, or because the park was incredibly clean and spacious, or perhaps it is because we took advantage of the outdoor recreational opportunities that this area had to offer. Last week we learned to close our computers at the end of a work day and go outside! We hiked, biked, kayaked, tossed a football, tossed a Frisbee, and had a surprisingly exciting visit to the local fish hatchery. Seriously, who knew a fish hatchery could provide an hour of pure entertainment? We perfected the art of feeding intensely hungry and somewhat aggressive rainbow trout. In addition to these relaxing activities, we spent some quality time in the local town of Prospect, Oregon.

The Upper Rogue Rural Action Team Center

The Upper Rogue Rural Action Team Center

Prospect, a small town of 530 residents, provided the closest Laundromat and apparently the best ham steak Chris has ever consumed. While doing laundry one night, Chris went for a walk to retrieve quarters from the Upper Rogue Rural Action Team (URRAT) center (apparently the only place in town to offer quarters according to the sign at the laundromat). What was supposed to be a quick run to retrieve quarters turned into a lengthy journey. I sat and waited patiently (no, seriously…I was pretty patient on this one…they had People magazines at this place so I was easily entertained reading about Brangelina).  After 30 minutes, however, my mind began to wander. Had Chris been mugged in this sleepy, innocent-appearing town? Or, and more likely, had he joined in on the fake tug-o-war match currently underway at the main intersection in town? That’s right…a fake tug-o-war match…no ropes necessary…not sure how one wins that game. At last, a car pulled up to the Laundromat and out comes Chris. His new friends from URRAT had given him a ride. Upon seeing my baffled look, he explained that in addition to learning all about URRAT and making new friends, he had met the Mushroom Man. The Mushroom Man? Yes, the Mushroom Man.

The Mushroom Man's Sign in Prospect, OR

A Mushroom Buyer's Sign

During his quest for quarters, Chris passed a young man sitting at a table with some empty buckets and a scale in front of his suspiciously nondescript van. While I would have continued walking and internally question the presence of this curious setup, Chris stopped to ask the man what he was selling. The man explained that he was not selling anything but rather buying mushrooms. Unbeknownst to us, there is apparently a large yet somewhat secretive mushroom market here in the northwest. Pickers walk for miles searching for the mysterious morel mushroom and then bring their baskets to the Mushroom Man in exchange for money. According to the Mushroom Man, who did not go into specific details of the competitive business (we suspect he wasn‘t sure of those details himself or just did not trust Chris), stated that he sold the mushrooms primarily overseas. As we left the laundromat, we drove by the Mushroom Man and the mushroom pickers had arrived to sell their day’s findings.  It was a random yet fascinating sight.  Needing to know more about this (and, clearly, the Mushroom Man was not interested in conducting an information session) we found an informative New York Times article that provides an interesting story on the elusive morel mushroom business. Enjoy!

 

Paddle Harder

14 Jul

On Friday, we decided to put the kayaks in the lake at the Joseph H. Stewart State Park. This usually relaxing recreational activity did not start off well for me. In addition to the especially long haul of the kayaks from the truck to the shore, I had issues getting my spray skirt to attach to the kayak. After an embarrassingly long struggle with the skirt, I was ready to start paddling. Only a few seconds into the paddling, I knew I would need my rudder as the water was really choppy and had its own journey mapped out for me, one quite different from the path I preferred. Unfortunately, I quickly discovered that my rudder was not adjusted properly and as a result, I had no pedals at my feet and no way of adjusting it at that moment. The waves were crashing over me, water was pouring into the kayak since my skirt was, indeed, not attached properly, I was being forced over onto a rocky ledge and overcome by the water. Sounds terrifying, doesn’t it? To tackle this situation, I did what any emotional, irrational human being would do: I shed a tear…or six or seven…and my voice took on this incredibly loud shrieky sound likely heard by all of Oregon and maybe even parts of Washington.

Meanwhile, paddling happily off into the distance was my naturally athletic, confident, kayaking husband. Upon hearing my shrilling wail from the rocky ledge, he turned and gracefully paddled back to me with that look of, “seriously…you can’t do this?” I explained in a not so rational way (think tears and shrieky voice) that my rudder was stuck on the rocks, I couldn’t reach the pedals, I was going to flip over, hit my head on the rocks and die a tragic death here at the peaceful Lost Creek Reservoir. In my time of need, I waited for the sympathetic and wise words of Chris, who in a very calm manner said, “Paddle harder.” “Paddle harder?” This was it?!? I am going to die and this is what he has to say! He flipped my rudder up so it wouldn’t get caught on the rocks and off I paddled. I paddled like I had never paddled before, bravely facing each wave and daring them to push me around. I was not paddling harder because Chris instructed me to, I was paddling harder because I was angry…angry that those were the only words he could come up with at that moment. (In retrospect, I realize that my anger and panic was unnecessary and unfounded…so please, no lectures.)

Calmer waters

Calmer waters

We finally made it to calmer waters and I offered a somewhat sincere apology (Chris would say this is a huge exaggeration). The kayaking trip ended up being quite relaxing. We had a nice, but cold, swim in the beautiful clear waters of a secluded cove on the other side of the lake. We paddled along the shore with the wind in our favor and we took time to sit and enjoy the amazing scenery around us. On our way back to our launching site, we faced, once again, the powerful waves. I had taken the time in calmer waters to adjust my rudder, properly attach my skirt, and I was ready to paddle harder, not out of anger, but because that is what I had to do to make it back to shore.   I confess that panicking, crying, and giving up in tough situations is usually my first response. While Chris’ words angered me, he was saying exactly what I needed to hear. I need to remember that in tough situations, you have to paddle harder in order to reach the calmer waters.

[As a result of my writing this entry, Chris will now remind me on a daily basis of his wise words and the fact that he was right. Please think of me as I deal with this.]

 
 
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