05-30-2020 Saturday at Hart Antelope Refuge

After discovering that our fan was blowing the wrong way and fixing the problem, we slept great until about 7:30. Quiet hours in the campground are from 10PM to 6AM, so we had no problem deciding to turn on the gennie to make coffee, toast a waffle and cook some bacon for a breakfast treat. Although we had no cell service and no internet, we still took a bit of time to charge up the phones while the gennie was running. Our plans for the day included a lot of back country driving and I wanted to be sure that I could access my offline google maps that I had downloaded before leaving home. I had also managed to find the $4.00 BLM map that I purchased back in 2013 covering the area.

We like this campground because it is reasonably close to the refuge. Even with the steep gravel road and some washboards along the way, it only takes about twenty minutes to get to the Headquarters junction which is the starting point for several side trips, including the Hot Springs Campground.

Of course, it takes a lot longer if you take time to stop and walk the short loop trail that leads to a wonderful overlook. We were the only ones in the small parking lot and took Mattie out without a leash, but just as we were getting ready to walk up the trail, another car pulled in and we called Mattie to put on her leash. The very nice lady said, “Oh no, don’t do that for me!” Mattie immediately recognized a dog person and ran happily over to greet her.

Mattie was so excited to be in a new place and was a bit distracted. She loves trails and likes to lead us and is very good about staying on trail. If there is some kind of fork in the trail, all I have to do is point and say, “That way”, and she looks at me, turns and leads off in the right direction. I love how some dogs know exactly what you mean. Mattie has a great vocabulary, and she can even understand when we spell a few words so we have to be careful when saying the word “walk” unless we are ready to go. So sometimes we spell it, but that no longer works.

Warner Wetlands viewpoint in 2013

The views of the beautiful Warner Wetlands stretching out below us are always thrilling from this point. We have photos of Abby at this same point, but Mattie was a bit too excited to pose properly. The water was quite muddy possibly from recent rains, and the skies weren’t as clear as they were the last time we were at this point. We also noticed there were a LOT fewer flowers in bloom, thinking that maybe we had missed the full bloom and this elevation.

The wind was also beginning to blow with intention, which made my attempts to photograph tiny flowers with my phone a bit of a bust. I wasn’t ready to pull out the heavy camera while trying to hike rocks with two sticks. I surely do miss my sweet lightweight Lumix.  It was destroyed by a suddenly falling heavy framed picture as it sat quietly on a windowsill in our office . Ah well, someday I’ll pop for the bucks to replace it, but not just yet.

After our hike we continued up the steep hill with a couple of big switchbacks to the broad gently sloping lands of the refuge. Just before the refuge headquarters, which are still closed due to COVID19, we saw an open gate to a dirt/rock road toward Poker Jim Ridge and a spring. It’s a road we haven’t traveled in the past and decided it was a good time to try it out.

We saw 4 antelope near the road, quietly grazing and they watched us awhile without concern before walking off. Then a northern harrier swooped in front of the car, flying with the distinctive low acrobatics that is typical for this kind of hawk. The bright white horizontal band on the tail was the identifying feature. Too fast for the phone, so no picture once again.

We made it as far as the spring, which was surrounded by more thick vegetation than we wanted to walk through, so I have no idea if it was warm or not. The creek feeding into the spring was pretty from a distance. Near the spring were remnants of an old homestead.

All along the road we were treated to the magnificent ridge of the Steens on the northwest horizon. We have traveled to the Steens in the past as well, but to do that from Hart Mountain requires more than 50 miles of bone jarring gravel washboard road across the desert. The only other way to get there is to return to Lakeview and Highway 395, travel to Burns, and then back south through the Malheur Wildlife Refuge to Frenchglen. It’s a great trip, but not one we will be making this time around. Hart Mountain and The Steens are two of the most remote and iconic landscapes in the high desert of Eastern Oregon. We love them both.

The road continued north toward Poker Jim Ridge, where there is a lot of wildlife, but got too rough for the Tracker and our nerves and we found a place to turn around.

Returning to the main road and to the closed visitor center we took the familiar road to Hot Springs campground where we had lunch at our old campsite where we tent camped in 2004. We have lots of fun memories of that camping trip in the days when we first started traveling together.

We neglected to bring our chairs for the picnic, but brought out the red vinyl pads that were a freebie from our Adventure Caravans trip to the Rose Parade in 2017. That made sitting on the ground a bit easier. Getting up from the ground is another story, but we managed with a bit of laughter, rolling over and rising from our knees.

After lunch, we drove over to the natural hot springs in the meadow where I dangled my legs in the 102 degree water. The bottom was a bit mushy, so I didn’t get all the way down, but it sure felt good on the crazy legs. Mo walked off into the meadow with Mattie searching for the other springs. Mattie was beside herself happy and ran around like crazy, accidentally running through a muddy creek which was deeper than she expected. She raced over to me, running in circles of happiness and covered with black guck. I dangled her in my spring to clean her off but she couldn't get out fast enough. Mattie is NOT a water dog.

Photo from 2004 of the developed spring at the Hart Mountain Refuge

Before we left I checked out the rock enclosure with a partially developed deeper spring. As I walked up, I heard people laughing and talking and called out as I approached. Springs are often clothing optional and I didn’t want to get a big surprise. There were three people who said they had come from Medford and were laughing and talking while soaking in the spring. They were staying in Lakeview, and I wondered just how much all those little aerosol particles were blowing around inside that closed space with people much less than 6 feet apart. I didn’t have any desire to dip in but had a nice conversation from a distance.

We drove back north to the Blue Sky road and turning south toward Post Meadows. There are a few ungated roads leading to the southeast across what appeared to be featureless desert and we had no desire to wander off in that direction on more bad roads. Besides, there seemed to be nothing out there to see at the moment, and the roads had signs saying they weren't officially open until June 15.

Once at Post Meadows, with a lovely view of the highest point on Hart Mountain, Warner Peak at 8,017 feet, we stopped at the pit toilet and let Mattie run around some more. Such a happy dog! By this time the winds were getting stronger and we decided that was enough for the day and it was time to head home.

Along the route, we stopped at Indian Springs for another short walk. By this time the winds were really strong, and as we hiked up a small dirt hill that was built above a man made pond, Mo’s visor went flying. She braved climbing down the slippery steep hill to get the visor. It was a visor from Hells Canyon and I wasn’t about to part with it. From the small man made hill from dredging the pond, we could see the small spring surrounded with thick grass. Mattie ran into the thick grass and had the best find of the day, an old leg bone from what was probably an antelope. She was determined and carried that bone all the way to the car. No clue if this spring was warm since we didn’t try to get up close. Time to get out of that wind!

By the time we got down the hill and back to camp, the winds were blowing at least 30 mph. Our balloon spinner that we brought from ABQ last fall was blown into pieces but somehow Mo managed to find each piece and put it back together. We also put away the ground carpet that was held in place by 3 big rocks but billowing like a wild sail from the one corner that we neglected to secure. Trying to fold it up in that wind was funny, and both of us were blown around like puppets by the wind catching the carpet like a big sail.

Inside the rig, the slide topper was whipping around like crazy. Usually our topper is stable in high winds but not this time. For the first time we can remember, we pulled in the slide to protect the topper and stop the crazy noise from the winds.

We settled in for the rest of the late afternoon, watching the rain to the north, playing some cards, and waiting for the winds to die down, as they often do, so I could bbq a little steak for our Saturday supper.

Dinner was delicious. We had a nice New York, which I sliced into two pieces, and then we each ate just half and saved the other half for lunch the next day. Pretty good for just one steak! We also baked a potato and I ate half of it and Mo ate a quarter which is her usual style. Funny how much less we eat as we get older and are perfectly satisfied.

The winds finally died down and Mo built another gorgeous fire. The sunset was a bit of a bust, without the brilliant colors from the previous evening. We sat with the sky and the fire till after 9 before retreating to bed and the dark night. With the winds, another cloud cover formed and once again there was no chance to see the gorgeous starry skies that are such a wonder in this part of Oregon. The darkness and quiet is so very beautiful.

A perfect day, with another one to come.

05-29-2020 Heading for Hart Mountain

We have both been enjoying our time at home, with plenty to do and lots of inside and outside space in which to enjoy each other's company. Still, both of us have been getting a bit antsy and when Mo said last week, "I'm really getting ready for a trip!" I excitedly agreed. "Let's try Hart Mountain", I exclaimed.

Hart Mountain is in Eastern Oregon, is several hours from home here in Grants Pass. We have camped in a tent in the campground at the Hart Mountain Refuge, and have boondocked in the area in the MoHo. However, the road to the main campground is still dirt and washboards for more than 20 miles, so we don't take the MoHo up there.

There are so many quickly changing rules about when and where people can camp that we thought it might be best to try to boondock in the place we stayed in 2013, just a big wide equipment type place in the middle of nowhere but not officially on BLM land. With the internet proclaiming that renting an RV is the best way to vacation right now, we weren't quite sure that there would be an empty space for the upcoming weekend.

Boondocking north of Plush across the Warner Valley from Hart Mountain in 2013

I looked up the information about the Hart Mountain Campground, which is actually on the refuge and found out that our little campground at the end of the pavement on the way to the refuge, just inside the boundary is open! Yippee! There are no reservations, but we will leave early enough to arrive mid day and are reasonably certain that there will be a spot for us. So looking forward to some MoHo time.

The previous photos are some we took back in May of 2013, the last time we traveled to Hart Mountain and when we found the newly built Hart Mountain Campground but we didn't camp there.  At the time, it looked like a great spot. Dry camping and no hookups, but somewhat safer at this time than trying to boondock in lands that may or may not be open.

Now, as I write this on Friday night, I am sitting by the fire at twilight in shorts and a light shirt. At 7 this morning I had no idea the day would end like this. As we were preparing to get on the road, Mo turned on the gas for the fridge and nothing happened. A bit of trouble shooting led us to believe it was possibly the LP detector. Our detector is an older version that includes an on/off switch to manage the LP from inside the rig when needed.

We waited till 8 for nearby Caveman RV to open so I could pick up a new detector. When I walked in with a photo of the part, they were quite rude and insisted that it couldn't be replaced. They said the detector was an old style that was no longer used, and even if they could find one, it would cost several hundred dollars, and they had no openings for several weeks to do the job. They also said they hadn't been used in anything since the 1990's and was only used by low end RV builders. Hmmm. Our Dynamax was built in 2006 and isn't a cheap rig.

I drove a few blocks west to Affordable RV and they were extremely accommodating in spite of their crowded schedule. They told me if I brought the rig in at ten they could do a temporary fix so that we would have propane and wouldn’t have to delay our trip while they waited to receive the new part. In minutes the technician had the part disconnected and the propane valve on. He refused to charge us, saying they would let us know when they got in a replacement. Such great service and caring people. They laughed a lot and kept saying, “We don’t want you to miss your trip! We know how long you have waited for it!” We were very impressed.

Much to our surprise, we were on the road by 11:30. The trip to Hart Mountain is about 249 miles east, traveling along Highway 140 through Klamath Falls toward Lakeview on Highway 395, north a bit and then continuing east on HWY 140 toward the tiny community of Plush. With our late start, we decided to stop by Klamath Lake at the familiar Howard Bay launch site for a sandwich and to switch drivers from me to Mo.

Even with our rest stop, we were quite tired by the time we gassed up in Lakeview at $2.45 per gallon/cash price, and still had 90 minutes to go to our campground destination.

I took over driving again at Lakeview and with the two hours of rest since my previous shift, enjoyed it thoroughly. There are two roads that exit Highway 140 north toward Plush. The route through Adel, farther east, is lovely and travels down a beautiful canyon and through the southern lakes of the Warner wetlands. The route we chose exits up a steep hill on a narrow road that approaches Hart Mountain from the southwest. It is from this road that the magnificent view of the iconic mountain rises on the northeast horizon.

I spent much of that driving time trying to understand what it is about a particular mountain that elicits such deep feelings for me. I love many mountains. Shasta, Rainier, Mt Hood, so many gorgeous volcanoes that fit all the descriptions of snow covered rugged peaked mountains that people love.

Hart Mountain isn’t a volcano. It isn’t a snow capped peak. It is a tilted fault-block mountain with an incredibly steep scarp on the west and a long, gentle eastern slope dropping to the wildness of the Eastern Oregon high desert. It rises like a friendly monster massive beast from the volcanic lowlands that are on its west flank. It is long, a rugged ridge that lies in a generally northeast to southwest direction, with nearly 3500 feet of elevation from the Warner Valley below to the top of Warner Peak, the highest point on Hart Mountain at just over 8,000 feet.

I tried to explain to Mo how I felt that Hart Mountain somehow had a soul, or a spirit, as if it is somehow alive and breathing. She nodded just a little and said hmmmm….So, I am curious if any of you have met a mountain that is a living, breathing thing that you feel inside your soul. I am that way about Hart Mountain. Go figure.

I love the feel of that mountain in ways I can’t begin to explain, I love its bulk and its many canyons, and the way it reflects the light at sunset. I love knowing that there are wild bighorn sheep crawling around on the cliffs even if my binocs aren’t strong enough to find them. I love that on the broad eastern flank of the mountain are some of the most protected herds of pronghorn antelope in the country, with about 1,900 on the refuge at last count.

On our last trip to Hart Mountain in 2013 we had boondocked across the valley in a nondescript wide place in the gravel, albeit with a great view. This time we knew that Camp Hart Mountain was open and hoped that even with our late arrival on a Friday night, there would still be a space for us to camp.

We are in Site 12 this time at Camp Hart Mountain

We arrived around 6pm, to find only 2 of the 14 spaces occupied. The campground was newly opened when we discovered it in 2013 and at that time they hadn’t decided on a fee. I guess they still haven’t decided, because the campground is still free. There is a pit toilet, picnic tables, potable water at the main picnic shelter and reasonably level dirt sites. We settled in and marveled at the very crazy weather. It was hot, (92F) and cloudy and there wasn’t a breath of wind.

After setting out our rug and chairs and unloading the firewood, we played cards a bit waiting for sunset time to enjoy the campfire. Supper was super easy, Costco hotdogs and baked beans! Our firewood is from the large pile of well seasoned oak and madrone we have at home stored from the trees we took down on the property back in 2013. That wood makes for some wonderful campfires, and the coals really made me wish that I liked roasted marshmallows enough to remember to bring them.

When we finally went to bed, we could barely breathe because of the very uncomfortable heat. We had all the windows open and the fan on full blast but nothing seemed to bring any relief into the bedroom part of the MoHo. It wasn’t until 4 in the morning or so that we figured out that we had somehow switched the Fantastic Fan from out to in and it wasn’t pulling fresh air into the rig the way it usually does. That hot night certainly wasn’t anything we had expected from what we had read about the predicted weather. There was a huge storm heading for the northwest and we had almost postponed our trip because of it. We had expected rain and wind but certainly not a hot, muggy night.

After we turned the fan to pull in the cool air, I slept like a baby with some truly fantastic, magical dreams. Perfect for a first night at the base of my favorite magical mountain.

04-03-2020 Writing About It

It is now 5:30 AM and I have been awake since 2, finally up at 3 thinking I could possibly write a blog post.  It’s funny how I can procrastinate this simple chore, and yes, this time it feels like a chore rather than a delight.  But it needs to be done. I need to try to track the milestones of our life, not just the great trips, but the down times.  March was most definitely a down time, but it didn’t really begin until March 10, when we laughingly enjoyed what was to be our last pedicure for a long time.

On March 10th, the Virus was still a distant rumor, just a tiny hint of what was to come.  We felt safe enough with our pedicure technicians wearing their masks as they often do. By March 13th, the rumor was big and loud enough that I called my hairdresser and asked if she minded if I cancelled my appointment.  She was still open, but understood completely.  At almost 75 years old, and with a random muscle disease as yet undiagnosed, I didn’t want to take chances.  Now in Oregon, all barber shops, beauty shops, and nail salons are closed along with many other so called non essential businesses.  It is a bit interesting to see what is deemed essential, with liquor stores and pot shops being high on the list.

Many of my blogging friends have done a fantastic job of continuing to write about the complexities of their lives as they deal with the Virus.  Covid 19. It. Some have said we should keep a diary of these times, of our lives as we go through what feels like a truly crazy dystopian novel. I haven’t done that well, in fact I haven’t even tried.  I have days on the calendar that list things that need to be done, but the huge blank spot in that calendar are appointments and outings.  All those doctor and dentist visits, blood work that needs to be done, hair  and nail appointments, dinner with friends, Friday nights at the winery with wood fired pizzas and a bottle of good red.

A trip to the beach, something we have done almost every March since we had the MoHo, cancelled at the last minute.  We had planned 3 days at an RV resort near Gold Beach beginning on March 23.  I called to cancel after social media went into a frenzy about too many people heading for the coast, but the owner refused to refund our deposit, saying everything was fine.  The very next day Oregon’s governor closed the RV parks.  Instead of the refund I would have received, I got a credit for another date in June.  Unknown to us and unmentioned by the park manager was that the cost in June was summer rates, quite a bit more than we planned.  I was NOT happy.

Our planned cruise to Scotland is scheduled for early July, but we are reasonably certain that it will be cancelled as well.  We have the ability to cancel with a full credit for a future cruise just 48 hours before our first airline departure so will wait a bit before cancelling.  Not exactly excited about getting on a long flight or a cruise ship even in July, and am pretty sure we will not be going on that cruise this year.

We are practicing social distancing, isolating at home.  Often, it doesn’t feel much different than usual.  We aren’t hugely social creatures, enjoying our own company, enjoying our home and our little almost acre.

That acre has been a godsend in the last few weeks.  We can still go outdoors when the weather allows and fiddle around with home projects to keep us busy and moving.  I can get 10,000 steps in a day simply walking up and down to mow and rake and haul debris to the waiting dump trailer.  Mo spends more time outside than I do, being less picky about the temperatures and willing to don outerwear to get out there.  I’m more of a warm weather person, I really don’t like working in the cold.  Maybe because I spent so many decades as a field scientist working outdoors in some rather awful weather. I’ll go for a walk, but actually doing yard work in cold damp weather isn’t any fun for me. 

Mo’s big project this month has been getting a solid, level gravel floor in the lean-to area of her wood shop.  She had to mix many bags of cement to enclose the area so that it would contain the gravel.  She then ordered a big load of rock, and shoveled it into the space bit by bit until she had a very nice solid floor. She was happy that she had her trusty tractor to help move the gravel from the pile to the shed. No more blocks trying to level up her sawing table.

Instead of braving the chilly weather I retreat to the sewing machine or make some cards, clean house or cook:  warm pursuits that keep me happy and far from bored.  I don’t think either of us has been even remotely bored in the last few weeks.  But things seem to be getting crazier every day, and the somewhat vague lockdown of just about every kind of commerce in the state of Oregon is beginning to take its toll. 

My dearest friend, Maryruth, came down with pneumonia early in the month, just as her husband Gerald was recuperating from a heart attack and major heart surgery.  It was still a time when I could take them food and groceries, but as the month progressed even that changed.  Maryruth never had a fever, was never hospitalized, but also was never tested.  We haven’t visited in person for 3 weeks now.  She is better, Gerald has recuperated wonderfully, but with compromised immune systems, there are no dinner get togethers, no card playing dates, no girly crafting days to share.

Cooking a deep dish quiche for supper

I can see that I am rambling as I write, trying to recapture how it feels to be required to remain at home, to stay away from family and friends.  Like many others, I am calling more and texting less, wanting to hear the voices of those that I love as they navigate the same scary waters.  My daughter Melody is working from home, but her honey is still going to work.  They made an offer on a house early in the month, before anything was known, and unbelievably they were funded, inspected, appraised and managed to close within a couple of days of the original closing date, yesterday. Is moving considered an essential activity? 

A lovely old home in Oregon for my daughter who loves history and old houses

My grandkids, Melody’s family, are all somehow magically safe at the moment, with Xavier, the most immune compromised with Type 1 diabetes on paid leave from his job at Fred Meyer.  My two grandkids and their two roommates share an apartment in Albany, Oregon, with one working at Home Depot, one working at WalMart, one currently unemployed but with some savings, and Xavier at home.  They are being careful and they are not ignoring the warnings.  Millennials and younger, they are paying attention. I am proud of them.

Deborah, a financial manager at Southern Oregon Head Start is considered essential, even though the facilities are closed.  She is getting paid and even if she weren’t she has a gazillion hours of sick leave she can use.  Her honey is retired, with a stable income as well. With unemployment applications topping 10 million so far, I am incredibly grateful that the family has resources and is safe.  What I miss are the weekly or biweekly Deborah Sunday visits.  Grandson Matthew is at home across the street, and we wave when we see each other.

Keith and my grandson Steven, and Deanna installing new hardwood floors in their home

Daughter Deanna and her husband, the truckers, are miraculously at home at their property in Northern Washington. They planned a month off to do some down time, to work on their home and property before all this started.  Now they are trapped there, without income, but unwilling to go back on the road and get stranded somewhere unable to move.  The airplane engines that they transport are stopped cold at the moment, and other drivers who do what they do are spending most of their time waiting in truck stops with no open restaurants.  It is hard on their savings and their retirement plans, but at least they are trapped at home instead of somewhere far away in a truck.  They also have property to play on and plenty of home projects to keep them busy, a freezer full of food, and plenty of isolation in a very tiny remote community.  I am grateful that they are safe.

I took down the St Pat’s decor, and put up Easter.  I do love the Easter decorations, but realized this year that love is mostly based on knowing that I will be sharing an Easter meal with family, and the decor is just a backdrop to brighten that precious family time.  Something that will not happen this year.  Back in mid March when I put it up, I did think that maybe this would all be over by Easter.  I know some of the world thought that as well, but now we know better.  Social isolation will no doubt last at least through April and probably much longer.

So many people have said what am feeling:  the days are all running together.  We have settled into a routine that is only broken when one or the other of us waken in the night and then we sleep till 8 or even 9am.  Unheard of around here!  We are binge watching Newsroom after dinner, if you can call two episodes a night a binge.  It is for us.  The Sunday night airing of the final season of Homeland can take my mind off of anything else.

The dog knows when the 4 pm chime rings it is time for her walk, and at 5 it is time for her dinner and at 8 she is insistent that it is her bedtime.  The days are pleasant, sometimes even lovely. 

I am enjoying uninterrupted time for quilting,working on a bed quilt for Deborah.

Another dear friend in Idaho is a crafter/card maker and turned me on to the Tim Holtz Facebook Live demonstrations on Saturdays.  She sent me some Tim style cards, so different from my somewhat regimented and orderly card making style. 

The Stampin’ Up style of cards I am used to making

I learned that it is very hard for me to just cut loose and get all crazy with random stuff, and was surprised that there is such a big learning curve to the chemistry of the particular style of Distress card making.

Learning to make wild colorful creative backgrounds, Tim Holtz style

It is very similar to why I had so much trouble trying to play blues piano when I was trained classical, as much as I loved the Blues. Laura is inspiring me to just cut loose and play with the colors and the paper and don’t even try to think of what it will be like in the end.  Challenging, and just what is needed to take my mind off of what is going on in the world around us.

Yesterday the sun came out after many gray, drippy days.  We needed the rain, and I don’t mind it, but I so miss the sunshine.  Even with a hard frost on the grass in the early morning, the day was gorgeous.  Mo and I treated ourselves to a drive to the compost center for a truckload of nice rich compost for the annual flower garden on the sunny side of the RV shed.

I love putting fresh compost down getting ready for the annuals in this garden

We enjoyed the gorgeous spring day during the 20 minute drive along the Rogue River.  We stopped at the drive through of Rogue Roasters for coffee to go for the drive.  It was an exciting outing for us.  I carefully wiped the credit card and the coffee cups with Clorox wipes from our last container.  Mattie even had a puppicino.  These are tiny cups of whipped cream that Starbucks has for dog customers, and the local Rogue Roasters was happy to oblige when I asked.

We have 18 more days of toilet paper, which I had stored prior to the hoarding kerfuffle.  I always try to keep the TP in the cupboard so I don’t have to shop for it often, so I was prepared.  Who knows if I will be able to get more, but I am getting a bit nervous about it. We are planning to head to WinCo on Sunday morning. Local conversations on Grants Pass Community Chat indicate that they are doing an excellent job of practicing social distancing, and are fairly well stocked.  We will see how that goes. So far we haven’t had any desire to brave the 30 miles and unknown that is Costco.

As others have said in blogs and facebook posts, not much to report.  Still, it seems important to write it down.  Someday we could all look back and say, wow, that was something.  Someday it could be completely behind us.  Then again, someday we could look back and say, that is when the end of the world started, or the beginning of a new word we don’t recognize.  It could be anything.  That is the uncertainty of these times that makes writing a blog feel so disjointed, that makes life feel so disorienting.  We are adjusting to a new reality, and no one really has a clue what that reality will bring.

03-04 to 03-05 2020 Over the Mountain for the Lava and the Birds

When we had the apartments in Klamath Falls, our journeys over the mountain were simple.  Load up the car and plan to stay in the extra apartment when we had to handle Klamath Basin business.  Now that the apartments are sold, it is all different. 

Mo had her taxes done in Klamath Falls for a couple of decades, and was reluctant to switch accountants with such a complex issue as selling the apartments.  She made an appointment with her tax lady and said, “Where should we stay when we go to Klamath Falls?”  We rolled that one around a bit, thinking that maybe the weather would be good enough to take the kayaks and dip into our favorite kayak waters.  Sometimes we have paddled this early in the year, and other times the Basin is covered with snow until May. 

Big Meadow near the summit of the High Lakes Pass.

The meadow is still covered in snow, but thin enough that the snowmobiles that frequent this area are banned for the time being.

Mattie wanted to go run on the snowy meadow

Things looked good until just a couple of days before our planned trip when snow and rain were predicted and the morning temperatures in the 20’s made both of us shiver. We decided to skip the kayaks.  Still, the motorhome was the best plan for the two evenings we planned to be away.  Who wants to stay in an expensive hotel when we have our own bed and nice clean COVID 19 virus free bathroom!  But where to park?!  WalMart?  We had no clue if they still allowed overnighting in the parking lot, but the KOA in town is terribly crowded and probably expensive as well.  We didn’t bother looking it up because Mo searched around a bit on AllStays and found reviews for the Kla-Mo-Ya Casino, just 20 minutes north of town.  Of course!  The parking lot there is huge.  We have visited the casino many times over the years but never had a reason to camp since we lived nearby. Paul and Nina stayed there and wrote up a great review of the place, with photos, which I didn’t bother to take.  We parked in the northern end where they parked but had no intrusive truckers join us to keep us awake. 

After settling in we unhooked the car and drove into town to meet with Mo’s accountant.  The warmish afternoon actually called for an ice cream cone at Baskin Robbins nearby before we traveled back north to our overnight spot. Once back home in the MoHo, we enjoyed supper in and never bothered to go to the casino.  Why take a chance on public spaces where people are touching everything and eating in a public restaurant.  Better to stay home in our own space.

Our original plan was to camp two nights at Kla-Mo-Ya, but the accountant said there was no need for Mo to stay around, she could mail the final papers to Grants Pass.  Hmmm.  What to do?

Even though we decided to skip taking the kayaks, it didn’t mean we couldn’t go find the birds.  The Klamath Basin is on the Pacific Flyway and I have been watching photos from Basin birders of the thousands of birds that rest in the refuge waters on their way north. 

I was craving open skies and distant views, and most of the camps in the local mountains are either in a dark hole, or closed for the season, or high enough in the mountains that they are still snowed in.  As we rolled around possibilities, I said, “I am hungry again for desert!”.  Suddenly we both thought of the perfect open desert landscape, with a beautiful campground that is open all year long.

Lava Beds National Monument is just 40 miles or so south of Klamath Falls, and on the southern edge of the Lower Klamath National Wildlife Refuge where we planned to spend the day.  It was easy to decide to pack up the MoHo and travel south to the Monument with the idea that we could settle in with the rig and then return to the refuge for an afternoon of birding.

It was a beautiful drive, with temperatures in the high 50’s and gorgeous blue skies.  We were thrilled when we drove into the campground to discover it was completely empty.  It isn’t a big campground and the A loop was the only loop open, but no matter, we had our choice of the best campsite there.  None of the sites are particularly big and for some reason the one way road is opposite the direction it should be for parking a motorhome along each campsite.  When the LEO checked in with us she mentioned that they were considering expanding the campground to include space for bigger rigs, and I suggested that it would be a simple fix to just change the direction of the one way road.

The silence was what struck me first, and then the view from our spot, north the many miles across the refuge toward Klamath Falls.  The MoHo was parked on level asphalt, with the campfire and picnic table just a few steps away.  I turned to Mo and said, “I don’t want to leave.  How do you feel about us skipping the drive back to the refuge and just sitting here all afternoon with this silence and this view?”  Mo agreed completely, and we opened the doors to feel the slight breeze, set up our chairs, and wished we had brought firewood.

I drove back up to the visitor center on the off chance that they might have some and was told that we could either drive 18 miles one way to Tionesta, 30 miles the other way toward Tulelake, or maybe the corner store on StateLine Road would have some wood.  Or another option was to drive 6 miles south into the Modoc National Forest and forage on our own for free down wood. 

We took off in the Tracker on the forest road and had fun hunting for old dry wood and filled up the back of the car with enough for the evening.  Once again, we had the road and the forest to ourselves and Mattie had a great time running around off leash in the woods with us.

Back home we relaxed a bit as the evening began to cool.  I heated up our soup while Mo built a great fire and we settled in to enjoy dinner with a view at the massive picnic table built in the 1930’s by the CCC. 

The night was completely silent, and not quite completely dark with the quarter moon shedding more light than I have sometimes seen in a completely full moon.  We sat in our chairs by the fire and with a surprisingly good cell signal I used our favorite little FlightTracker app to identify all the planes flying over us in both directions.  There were a LOT more planes flying in this area that we usually see in Grants Pass to the west.

It was a cold night, with lows dropping to 26 degrees F before morning, but we were toasty.  There are no hookups, but the furnace kept us warm enough with a comforter and 2 quilts. I got up in the dark a few times to try to id stars and constellations as well, but the bright moon and the bit of high cloudiness made it hard to see so I gave up and snuggled back under the covers with my book.  A great night of darkness and silence. 

We enjoyed a slow morning with breakfast and coffee and I managed a short little hike along the 7 Mile Trail that starts at the campground.  Lava Beds is most famous for its lava caves and tubes, and while many are named there are little caves everywhere that aren’t even on the map.  Lava Beds National Monument has instituted a screening procedure to help prevent the spread of bat white-nose syndrome to its caves.  You must have a permit to show that you haven’t been in any caves anywhere else in the recent past.

We packed up and headed back across the monument, stopping to enjoy the views of the Devils Homestead lava flow.  In the distance to the south the broad expanse of the source of all that lava can be seen, still covered in deep snow. 

The Medicine Lake Volcano is home to one of our favorite campsites in the heart of the Caldera, Medicine Lake Campground.  However, at over 7,000 feet elevation the road isn’t accessible until early summer and often snow is still in the campground into June.  Hoping for another great camping trip this coming summer at Medicine Lake.

Our route back toward home passed through two wildlife refuges, Tulelake NWR and Lower Klamath NWR.  Each refuge has its own personality, but both are supplied with water by the Bureau of Recreation for the Klamath Basin Project.  Sometimes there is a lot of water allowed into the refuges, and other times not so much, depending on the forecast for the water year and where the water needs to be allocated.  Water from Klamath Lake goes down the Klamath River, habitat for salmon.  Before it gets to the river however, it is diverted into canals to supply the farmers in the Klamath Basin.  If there is enough water for the salmon and enough for the farmers, and oh yes, enough to keep water in the lake to support the endangered sucker breeding beds, then there will be some left over for the birds.  It is a constant battle.  The water was allocated to the basin by the BoR in 1905, and there is never enough to supply all the needs, so something goes wanting even in a good year, much less a drought year. Here is a link to a study by the USGS about water in the basin.

This time around, as we passed the Tulelake NWR we saw that most of the fields were dry and the ponds where we have walked and seen so many birds were also dry.  We didn’t stop, but continued back west toward Lower Klamath NWR, where there was more water than we have seen in years. 

There is a beautiful refuge graveled auto tour that circles the largest wetlands, and we have often seen huge flocks of many types of geese and swans there during some years.  This year we were a bit late for the geese, but a few swans were still around, and many many ducks.  We saw more bufflehead ducks throughout the refuge than we have ever seen in the past.

Cinnamon teal family on Lower Klamath NWR

White Front Geese with some Northern Shovelers tucked in on Lower Klamath NWR

Northern Shoveler at Lower Klamath NWR

Toward the Willows section of the auto route there are some large cottonwoods that host a heron and egret rookery, but we saw no herons and the egrets have yet to return.  Sadly, a nesting pair of herons were scared from their nest by the many tourists who travel the road and get out of their cars.  People don’t seem to know that staying in your car is the best way to avoid disturbing the birds, and we saw people walking around taking photos.  I follow a birding group from Klamath Basin on Facebook and learned after we got home that the refuge closed the auto tour in that area to try to protect the birds from people.  I wish they had done it before the herons abandoned their nest. 

What we did see however, were many eagles perched high in the cottonwoods watching the wetlands for their next tasty duck dinner.  The one eagle was on the window side of the car, so I was able to shoot the photo without disturbing him.  In the trees on the west side of the road and the canal there were 2 or 3 eagles in each tree, but harder to get a good shot because of the branches and lighting.  Still it was great to see so many eagles.

We returned to the MoHo parked at the entrance to the refuge auto tour and settled in for a nice lunch as the winds kicked up with a coming storm.  Returning to Grants Pass that afternoon we were grateful for the perfect timing of our trip since the very next day there were storms and snows over the High Lakes Pass that was part of our return route.