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It became clear to us that our time in the desert was coming to a close when we descended from our cool campground on Boulder Mountain for an afternoon hike in Capitol Reef NP only to discover that at 4pm it was still 100ºF (we had no service on the mountain). These are temperatures that render any activity miserable and our life in the camper virtually impossible given the age of our appliances. We almost never hike in the afternoon, preferring to get our exercise in the morning so that afternoons can be spent either sightseeing, relaxing, or planning our next move, but we did the hike despite the blistering heat. At that time of day, several stretches of the trail were shaded, so it wasn’t entirely desiccating. At the top, a solid breeze helped us cool off, but we both finished the hike shirtless—the first time on our trip that we’ve felt the need to maximize the area of exposed skin for temperature regulation.
Given the big heatwave stretching across most of the US, we knew we’d get no respite if we took our time crossing the rest of Utah and covering the long stretch of Nevada that separated us from our desired destination in southern Oregon. We left for our extra long drive very early, passing through the vast irrigated plains of central Utah to the largely urbanized area of land stretching from Santaquin to Salt Lake City. When we arrived in Provo, we showered for the first time since Flagstaff (yay!) and then spent an hour or so at the excellent local farmer’s market checking out the stalls, stretching our legs and deciding what we wanted to eat for lunch. The market was set around a large, shaded park with lots of good spots to sit in the grass and watch the many Mormon families browse.
Following the highway to I-80W took us just south of Salt Lake City and along the long stretch of road that borders the Great Salt Lake and the 30,000 acres of the Bonneville salt flats. I thought this was particularly desolate, but I had no idea what northwestern Nevada had in store in that respect. As we entered Nevada, worn down by the miles and the inhospitable emptiness of the salt flats, we debated where to spend the night. It was another scorching day with strong, aggravating winds and my weather app indicated high temps throughout the night. Looking for a place with some altitude, I found two campgrounds near Wells, NV that seemed promising.
As soon as we left the desert floor, the slopes around us turned to alpine pastures filled with blankets of wildflowers and grazing cattle. A snow-capped mountain presided over the scene, and stands of stunted aspen crowded together in little pockets. All of it promised a cool night and restful sleep after the 450 miles or so we’d covered that day. We still had about the same distance to cover the next day so we tucked in early after having a nice chat with our neighbors, and got an extra early start in the morning. I had never spent much time imagining Nevada or wondering what the landscape might resemble. The northern part of the state where we did our crossing is a long plain that edges around a series of wave-like miniature mountain ranges. It is beautiful in its own right, but the sheer emptiness of those hundreds of miles ends of up wearing you down with the scale of the space. We’re talking hundreds of miles where maybe 150 people in total may live, with the driving wind, in near-complete isolation.
Fortunately for us, the day was overcast and we had on and off showers during the entire drive. These were the first rains we’d seen since New Orleans in late March and the interplay of light and shadow over those empty Nevada mountains was mesmerizing and a welcome entertainment to pass those long, seemingly unending hours. One of the things I cannot picture here with our photos is the intensity of the wind as we made our way long route 140. We’d experienced strong winds in New Mexico and Arizona and I’ve known my fair share of hurricane gusts, but this constant, forceful wind was in a category of its own.
Arriving in Oregon, with its vibrantly green pastures and healthy wet forests felt a bit like landing on a strange planet after our three months in the Southwest. I’d almost forgotten what a heartening sight a field of wildflowers could be, or river beds that actually held water, the sound of it so deeply relaxing to our ears. There is something profoundly calming about the Pacific Northwest, and since we’ve arrived, my skin has begun to clear and the persistent sinus problems Honey and I have both been dragging since we entered New Mexico have finally resolved. It’s obvious to us that we need to live in a more humid environment.
We pulled into our campground on the Klamath River having gone from a blistering 100ºF+ to a chilly 45ºF. Goya was far from pleased and gave us many reproachful looks from under her pile of blankets. State and County campgrounds in Oregon are more expensive than the other states we’ve passed through, so we haven’t stayed long in any one place. We spent one morning in Klamath Falls and the afternoon in Ashland, thanks to a recommendation from Honey’s French cousin who’s been living in the PNW for a long time. It’s very hard not to fall in love with southern Oregon, with it’s sunny weather and pastoral views, winding mountain roads and towering forests. I’ve always felt drawn to Oregon, but after visiting Portland 10 years ago, which I hated, I figured it wasn’t a place for me. I’ve been happy to revisit that on this trip, and Honey and I have entered this area on our list of potential places to move.
We checked out of our campsite on a sunny day and headed up to Crater Lake NP, aiming to do the rim hike and enjoy the views. As we gained in altitude we started to see patches of snow among the trees which gradually spread into a thick, unbroken blanket several inches to several feet thick. What a wild change from the desert landscapes we’ve been seeing for the past few months! We arrived at the top to a very busy parking lot and people everywhere. All of the trails were closed due to the snow, along with the eastern side drive, so we parked and wandered around the open areas, thrilling at the spectacle below us.
We spent about an hour wandering the section of the rim around the visitor’s center, ate a quick picnic lunch in our camper, and then started the drive along the western edge of the lake, getting out here and there to enjoy the view and trudge through the snow. Crater Lake often gets snow well into July, and with this year’s particularly cool and rainy weather all through the PNW that may well extend past the usual melting date.
Originally we had planned to camp closer to Ashland to spend a bit more time exploring, and then work our way north along the coast to the Olympic Peninsula. Honey’s cousin was flying to France at the end of the month and we would miss seeing her by a few days if we followed that route, so we changed our plans, deciding to do the coast from north to south instead after visiting Honey’s family. Over the next few days we slowly made our way north along I-5, camping one night in a county campground at Wolf Creek, another night in a Harvest Host vineyard and the last two nights in the Milo McIver State Park about 30 miles from Portland. As we moved north, the weather became more and more overcast and by the time we got to the outskirts of Portland, we were well enveloped by the gray drizzle of PNW rain.
My first experience of Portland in 2011 was a very wet one. The rain wasn’t really the problem with my dislike of the city, but it did take away from the enjoyment of sightseeing and exploring on foot. My main complaint, which is something that has become even more common in west coast cities in the past decade, were the troops of homeless, drugged out youth camping in the streets. I find vagrancy appalling, as much for the dignity of the individual as for the failure of society to support people in finding meaning and connection in their lives. My father never had the opportunity to finish his education and he and my mom worked hard to provide a better life to my sister and I. We both started picking up odd jobs and helping in my parents’ restaurant in our early teens, learning many things in the process. Honey also started working very young and was supporting himself and living on his own by the time he was 17, not because he had a bad family life, but because of the fierce enjoyment of independence and freedom that came from meeting his own financial needs.
I recognize that there are many ways to oversimplify the many paths leading people to becoming homeless. Mental health, abuse, addiction, financial crises and the list goes on and on. These problems in and of themselves are a telling indicator of the superficiality and emptiness of our American social fabric. On this second trip to Portland, it became clear that the homeless situation has become a major crisis, much like in other western cities like San Francisco, LA, Tacoma and Seattle. Progressive policies that tolerate and even encourage this situation don’t help people get clean or find their way off the street and into stable living situations. I’m all for the idea of “live and let live,” but without a foundation of respect and dignity reciprocated by both the individual and the society in which he lives, permissiveness quickly creates an unlivable situation. Absent that foundation, those policies kill entire neighborhoods that used to be safe and enjoyable. I don’t have a solution, but what we have now clearly isn’t working and I think it’s time to revisit this sort of ultraliberal ideology.
After driving around the Pearl District in Portland and seeing too many homeless looking people talking to themselves or gesticulating at walls and fire hydrants, we picked a different neighborhood to explore. First, we went to Mississippi Ave and then we went to the Alberta Arts district. We walked around a bit, looking for something hearty and warm to eat to counter the chilly, wet weather. The restaurants were all packed, so we opted for a Mexican food truck in a little courtyard. Honey’s burrito was the size of his arm and my cochinita pilbil was the perfect blend of heat and spice. We had spied the famous Salt & Straw ice cream shop before lunch and headed there for dessert. Their unusual flavors are enchanting and they are very generous with their samples. I settled on a split scoop of honey lavender and pistachio rosewater with strawberry mochi (a fabulous take on Turkish delight) in a cup. Honey got a homemade waffle cone with a split scoop of the latter along with the more classic salted caramel. We were very impressed.
Having had enough of our rainy day in the city, we ventured east along the Columbia River Gorge towards Multnomah Falls. It was a terrible day for sightseeing. Fog wafted up from the river, entirely obscuring the northern bank from view, accompanied by a steady drizzle. At the exit for the falls, a ranger explained a new federal policy of only allowing 60 cars at a time to enter the park. You had to pay $2 for the entrance and apply online for a timed slot. The next available slot was later than we wanted to wait, so we turned onto the Historic Columbia River Highway and followed it to Bridal Veil Falls, Latourell Falls, and Vista House, a lookout built in the early 20th century on a promontory over the gorge.
On Friday we packed up camp and drove the few hours to Olalla, WA to spend a few days with Honey’s cousin and her husband. From their house there is a fabulous view of Mt Rainier (weather permitting) and many fun things to do just a short drive away. We’re just as enchanted with the Puget Sound on this visit as we were the last two times we were here. This is already too long, so I’ll cover all of that in my next post!