06-21-2025 June Trip to East Lake Oregon

Before I begin writing on this very warm late June afternoon about our recent camping trip, I want to share a few things that make me happy.  Sometimes it is easy to slip into negativity about this or that, about the state of the world or the state of my health, or simply the fact that I will be 80 in a very short time.  But then, even without trying, "grateful" will kick in.  

Can you find the kitty? I'm grateful for our neighbor's kitty, who seems to like spending the night in our yard, ensuring our resident gophers don't take over the pasture.

I decided to keep track of those grateful moments that come unbidden, another little thing for which I am truly grateful.  Does anyone remember the popularity of the old "Gratitude Journals," which were part of the New Age Movement back in the 80's?  I kept one for years, and found it recently in an old drawer of journals that escaped the fiery purge I did a few years ago when I decided my kids didn't need to see all my neuroses from my youth.  The journal is wonderful and a delight to read.

I am grateful to the young woman who carefully dusts all the ceiling fans every two weeks

Incredibly grateful that the same young woman cleans the floors and the rest of the house so nicely, and that at this stage of my life, we can afford to buy a bit of help.

Speaking of floors, I am so grateful for the luscious silkiness of the finish on our oak floors every time I walk on them barefoot, which is often, because we are a shoeless home.

Sometimes, standing in the kitchen in the evening after supper and wiping the counters, I am so grateful for the cool smoothness of the granite (actually gneiss) counters that we chose so carefully more than 8 years ago. For the teapot from my sister, the knives I bought one by one for the new house, and the beautiful antique tiles that Mo packed around for years before they found a home in our kitchen.

Beyond grateful that there are the resources to build a new fence when we decided that the trees recently removed between our house and the neighbors left us just a little bit too open.

But now it is time to focus on the real reason for this blog.  Another trip in the MoHo to another favorite lake.

Mo and I have loved East Lake ever since we first camped there back in September of 2008.  At that time, Mo's brother and wife Nancy lived in La Pine, Oregon, just down the hill from the Newberry Crater, where the lake is located at the bottom of the Newberry Caldera.

An especially sweet memory of our trip to East Lake in 2008 since Roger is no longer with us

Mo and I have returned to East Lake a few times since then, and every single time we have loved the campground and the lake. The lake is one of the twin lakes that occupy part of the Newberry Crater (caldera) in Central Oregon. It is located in the Deschutes National Forest east of the city of La Pine. The caldera was formed over 500,000 years ago from volcanic eruptions. East Lake's water comes from snow melt, rainfall, and hot springs only. The average depth is 67 feet, 180 feet at the deepest point, and it covers about 1,044 acres. 

East Lake has two main camping grounds along the lake shore as well as East Lake Resort. The resort has cabins and boats for rent, in addition to a general store. Mo and I have explored Paulina Lake and the other campgrounds in the area and have decided that East Lake Campground is our favorite.

Trout were first stocked in the lake in 1912. The lake offers fishing for brown trout, rainbow trout., Kokanee, and Atlantic Salmon. East Lake is one of the finest and most traditional fisheries in Oregon, regularly producing brown trout over 10 pounds. The lake record for brown trout is 22.5 pounds.

Notes from my journal on the day we arrived:

 "We just arrived at East Lake about 20 minutes ago. It started snowing between the six-mile and the 12-mile snow park once we passed the unmanned entry gate. The snow was coming down rather in earnest, but it was still mixed with rain. And right now, as we look out over the fog-shrouded lake, it is either raining or snowing, I am not sure which."

In spite of the weather, we were content.  We had charged batteries, plenty of food, our site was perfectly level, and the propane furnace was going strong, keeping us toasty.,

When we first pulled in, we didn't unhook the baby car, and simply pulled right into our spot. As luck would have it, there was a sharp angle between the MoHo and the Tracker, and the little car didn't want to come off the hitch.  Lucky for us, we were able to do some jockeying around with the motorhome,  got the Tracker a little bit straighter, and finally got the hitch unhooked. 

We decided that with the snow coming tonight to leave the slide closed so that we wouldn't get any snow accumulation on the slide topper. 

Site 3 at East Lake Campground in the Newberry Caldera National Monument

We were settled in by 3:20 in the afternoon, watching the snow.  The previous night was the first of three we reserved, and we didn't make it to the campground because of all the overnight snow on our route through the Cascades.  With only one night left after tonight, we hoped to get an additional night.  The campground looked fairly empty, but all the sites had reserved signs on them when we walked through the park to check for open spaces for Monday.

We arrived on a Saturday, and the weather for Sunday was predicted to be a bit better, and then by Monday, it was going to be clear and warm once again.  Things shift fairly quickly in the mountains. 

We enjoyed an indoor supper after 6, an easy dinner of leftover burger patties in a rich onion gravy with green beans and tiny little boiled yellow potatoes.  The rain dissipated a bit as the evening progressed, and the wind came up, so we debated some more about opening the slide.  Things are so much roomier when the slide is open, but with the inclement weather, we decided to leave it closed.

After supper, we took a walk with Mattie around the park, hoping to check in with the camp host and ask about Monday night. Even though there was a camp host sign, and the trailer in that spot looked inhabited, there was no sign of a human and no answer to the knock on the door.,

After some dominoes, we settled into our warm bed to enjoy the sound of the wind and the rain on the last day before summer solstice, the longest day of the year, and technically the beginning of summer.

The next day, June 22, was middle daughter Deanna's birthday.  She was celebrating at home in eastern Washington with her husband and grandkids, and her sister Deborah, who traveled from Grants Pass to visit for a few days.  There was no way to wish her a Happy Birthday because at East Lake, there is no phone service, no internet, and no text messaging.  We were completely off-grid, something I had forgotten about camping here, and it does take a bit of getting used to.

We both slept fairly well that first night, waking up around five and staying in bed till 7:30. There was nothing particularly exciting to get up for. We couldn't turn on the generator until 7, and that's when we made our coffee. In the old days we used to make coffee in a French press with boiling water, but we got tired of the mess, and we got tired of the hassle. So, now we just wait for power to use my Keurig and Mo's electric pot, and we have nice hot coffee by 7:30. 

Our plan was to go kayaking that morning, but we woke to a little bit of a breeze on the lake and snow just above us on the hills across from the lake. It wasn't really conducive to jumping in the kayaks. We had breakfast, and then we unloaded the kayaks, in readiness for a shift in the weather.

On this trip, Mo brought enough wood for plenty of campfires, and we decided that a daytime fire would be great.  That was our plan for the morning after breakfast...sit by the campfire and enjoy the beautiful view of the water from our site. We brought enough wood for three nights, and we doubted there would be enough dry weather to use all the wood.

We unloaded the kayaks, locking them to a tree by our site, with hopes for a shift in the weather by afternoon.  We readied the BBQ for supper pork chops, and laid out the tablecloth for dinner. Sometimes the lovliest part of a camping trip is simply quiet time in front of a lake by a campfire.

By mid-afternoon the weather shifted, and the winds were calm enough that we launched the kayaks

There used to be a really nice spring along the shoreline of East Lake, but over the years it has shifted. When we first visited years ago, the springs were easily accessible by kayak on the east side of the lake.  The springs were also accessible via a trail along the bluff above the lake, but the shoreline trail was usually under water.  The water was hot and clear and about 2 feet deep.  

East Lake Hot Springs in July 2013

In 2013 Nancy and I kayaked over to the spring from the campground and Roger and Mo hiked the upper trail to look down on us from the bluff above.  At that time, the water felt great.

This year, however, the springs appeared lower along the shoreline, due to water level shifts, and only 6 inches of water bubbled a bit. Still, it was fun to kayak to the springs and remember when we could soak our feet in the hot sulphur water.

We stayed on the water for a couple of hours, enjoying the glassy surface, the birds, and the stormy skies with view of Paulina Peak to the south,

Still attempting to identify this bird.  There were dozens of them flying around us, almost landing on the boats

Paulina Peak, south of the campground 

If you look close, you can see the MoHo to the left of the boat launch and right of the white rig

Plenty of signal at the viewpoint looking toward the Cascades and the Sisters

After we returned that afternoon, we decided we were tired of having no communication with family and no internet, so we drove up the hill and then back down to the Twelve-Mile Sno Park where Gaelyn camped in 2023 and where we knew we could get a bit of internet.  It was important this time around, with things going on with family that we wanted to be sure we were aware of.  It didn't take long, and it was a bit of a relief to discover that all was well, but it is surprising how difficult it can be to have no contact. Sometimes I like it when we are off-grid, but this wasn't one of those times.

Our evening fire felt good, but not so good that I didn't need my fuzzy sweater beneath my lined rain jacket and a warm wool hat to sit and enjoy it.

The next morning dawned clear and gorgeous, and before breakfast, I took Mattie for a nice walk along the shoreline toward the springs.

Look closely and you will see the icy frost along the trail where we walked

Mo and I didn't kayak on that day because once again, I drove to a phone signal site and called the dermatologist about the surgery wound that didn't seem to heal. She said "Can you be here tomorrow morning?".  We decided it was best to simply pack up after just two nights on the lake and travel over the mountains toward home.

Before we left Mattie got to play with a very nice dog named Trish.  Such a calm sweetheart that dog was, even though Mattie intimidated her a bit.

By the time we returned to Grants Pass, the skies were clear, with no sign of the crazy weekend storm that covered most of Southern Oregon the previous weekend.  

I won't include any photos of the dumb wound but will say that the doctor gave me a resounding approval and said it was healing well.  Mo and I were both relieved and glad that we managed to get back home for the last-minute appointment.

06-06-2025 There is Something About That 3:30 am Hour, and our May Camping Trip

Daughter Deborah captured these images of Mo and me in a familiar moment, with Mo trying to figure out why I am being so silly. Could it be the wine?

 I am not really sure how many long-time readers are still hanging around my blog, but if any of you are still here, you may remember that my best time for writing is often in the wee hours of the morning. Spring and Early Summer are in full swing now in Grants Pass, which means that gardening season is here. Cleanup in April, planting in May, trimming in June. The flow of the seasonal progression around here is a precious thing.

In that lovely progression, I had a fall, landing on my hip.  Thought maybe I cracked something, but no, just old lady arthritis, and a 7-day round of Prednisone was the solution to night pain that kept me awake.  Now I am awake, not from pain but from the spectacular miracle drug that is also full of side effects, like keeping me awake.  I try not to take it more than 3 times a year when nothing else seems to do the trick and lessen the uncomfortable feelings of IBM and aging.

At 3:30 this morning, I woke and treasured the intense quiet of the night.  No barking dogs, no cars going by, no sounds from town just below our terrace.  The moon is gone and the stars are brighter this time of night.  We have a couple of solar lanterns on the decks, and yesterday I added some solar lights along the back gardens.  The glow in the sky is the glow of our town, which is captured perfectly by the night mode on a Samsung camera.  Silly photo, but it reminds me of the silence that kept me awake and sent me here to the office to write about our last camping trip.

Daughter Deborah camped with us again, only this time she brought her own tent for sleeping instead of staying in the RV.

Despite the springtime chores, we still manage to get in at least one trip each month, and Mid-May was no exception. Our destination was close, just a little over an hour east toward the mountains and the lovely Lost Lake Reservoir.  The Joseph Stewart State Park is still called that even though it is now owned and operated by Jackson County Parks.  

Lost Creek Lake is a reservoir on the Rogue River in Jackson County, Oregon. The lake is impounded by William L. Jess Dam, which was constructed by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers in 1977 for flood control and fisheries enhancement.

Monday midday at Joseph Stewart, with all the Mother's Day weekend campers gone.

It is a lovely park, with widely space campsites, well maintained grounds, electric and water hookups in about half the campsites, and a dump station that worked better than most we have encountered.

Our campsite, with room for the MoHo, the Tracker, Deb's adorable Subaru, with her tent, and a partial view of the lake toward the back.

Above, The view of our launch site at Catfish Cove, across the lake from our campground. Below, aerial view of the perfect place to launch kayaks on Lost Creek Lake.

We camped at Lost Lake in 2023, and like that year, the reservoir this year was 99 percent full, a lovely condition which encourages kayaking.  We usually avoid reservoirs because, in years of drought, there are only brown dirt embankments surrounding the water, and it isn't very pretty from a boat.  Summer may still bring drought if predictions are correct, but in spring during snow melt this year, all the reservoirs in the Rogue Valley system were full.  I wish we had time to go camping and kayaking at every single full lake within an hour or two of home.

On this kayak trip, however, we initially planned to take turns in the boats, with three campers and only two kayaks, it was the only solution. However, a couple of minor surgeries involving my lower leg and my toe meant I couldn't get in a bathtub or a hot tub, much less a wild lake. As a result, we had two kayakers, Mo and Deborah, two kayaks, and me.  I helped with the launches, waited in the car with the dog and went on a few short hikes. 

And they are off, on a bright clear morning with very little wind

I drove back to the bridge crossing the lake for a view of the two of them from above.

Watching until they disappeared upstream

Such a beautiful place on a sunny morning, and it was fun to see it all from a different perspective and try to follow them on the trail that parallels the lake on the left side.

Mariposa lilies and lupine lined the trail in the sunnier spots

In addition to kayaking, we had campfires every night.  The winds weren't as strong as they had been in the past, and the smoke was manageable and even laughable at times as we moved our chairs around the fire to be in just the right spot to avoid it.

Suppers were pre-planned, easy and fun, with the favorite being a bbqed pork loin with my own special marinade, creamy vanilla and maple flavored sweet potatoes, and my signature plum-cherry sauce for the pork.  Steamed and seasoned green beans rounded out the colors.

 

The second morning of kayaking wasn't quite as perfect, with overcast skies and a bit of wind shortening the time on the water for Deb and Mo to less than an hour.  They still loved it in spite of the challenges, and I enjoyed more time walking the short trails around Catfish Cove.

Later that day, the clouds lifted and we went for a long walk around the park.  This time, I needed to use the trusty walker on the rough trail, and it added a bit of challenge.  Onward, and keep laughing!

It was Mother's Day, and Deborah wanted to treat us to a lovely dinner at Mac's Diner in Shady Cove, just half an hour from the campground.  Deb lived in Shady Cove for some years and had often mentioned wanting to take us there.  We had a good time with a great view of the river, enjoying the unique ambience of the diner.

That night it rained all night, and Deborah used a tarp to keep her tent dry.  We decided that a rainy day might be the best time to do some local sightseeing, and instead, the rain stopped and our sightseeing day was spectacular.

Deb took us to a waterfall that, in all our years of driving up Highway 62 toward Crater Lake, we had never seen.  Just a couple of miles east of the highway is Mill Creek Falls, a spectacular cascade that flows underneath a beautiful historic bridge.

Returning to Highway 62 through the little community of Prospect, we continued to a familiar place where Mo and I often take guests on our sightseeing trips around Grants Pass.  The Natural Bridge area has a lovely trail to the wooden bridge that crosses the wild Rogue River.  There are interpretive signs that explain the volcanic geology of the area and the way the river goes underground through the volcanic rock that makes up the Rogue River Gorge.

The Rogue River is magnificent from its birth, not far from this spot in springs on the east side of Crater Lake, all the way to its meeting with the Pacific Ocean at Gold Beach. For any river nerds reading this blog who might like to get into the weeds about the Rogue River, here is a link to a great article in Wikipedia that describes its beginning, its end, and all the tributaries that flow into it.  (The Rogue River). The great river flows through our town and is a highlight of a drive to the grocery store.  A few miles west of us, the river is designated as "Wild and Scenic" and is a wild run of rapids and beauty for the most adventurous rafters.

A cool, rainy day was the perfect backdrop for a stop at the historic and iconic Beckies Cafe at Union Creek.  Famous for their Marionberry pies in season, this time we had to settle for a simple blackberry pie, also perfect.  Surprisingly, the French fries were the best we had eaten anywhere.  Pie and fries, what could be better?1

Beckie's is famous all over the world, often mentioned in travel stories about driving to Crater Lake with a stop at Union Creek for their famous pies.  

The cafe has a rich history spanning over a century. It was built in the early 1920s by Ed Beckelhymer and quickly became a popular stop for travelers and locals alike. The cafe is part of the broader Union Creek Resort, which is still a thriving business with lodging and guest cabins. 

Ed Beckelhymer, known to locals as "Beckie," originally ran the restaurant and a service station. The Union Creek Resort, including Beckie's Cafe, was a significant part of the early tourism in the area, serving as a popular camping spot and a place to rest for tourists and berry pickers. After Ed's passing, his wife, Cecil, continued to run the business, also known as "Beckie," and became famous for her huckleberry pies. Beckie's Cafe is listed on the National Historic Register.  The cafe remains a popular destination for those seeking a taste of the past and a peaceful setting near the Rogue River and Union Creek. 

After our snack, we continued east and north on Highway 62 just a short distance from Beckie's, to visit Deb's favorite spot on the River, the Gorge.  Here, the trails wind along more wild cascades where the river has eroded the volcanic rock into a deep gorge.

Rogue River Gorge Viewpoint has a short, paved path loaded with incredible, close-up views of the river’s rushing waters through the narrow channel. There are incredible views of a portion of the 215-mile Rogue at its narrowest: just 25 feet wide and screaming with the hydraulic force at a rate of about  410,000 gallons per minute. Along the path, there are more interpretive signs explaining some of the science of what’s going on here, including one for The Living Stump, which is exactly what it sounds like, a stump that, because of its interconnectivity with roots of neighboring trees, has continued to live. 

Yes, we ended the day once again in the rain. The two-shoe option had to do with the foot surgery that made it impossible to wear a proper shoe on both feet, but I needed at least one to keep proper balance.

Our camping trip was the perfect balance of sunshine, rain on the roof, kayaking, sightseeing, and excellent food. It was a truly spectacular way to spend Mother's Day with one of my daughters, and Mo and I agreed the short trip, just an hour from home, was nearly perfect.  We are so very lucky to live where we do.

Deb got a phone shot of the full moon rising on our last night at the park.  

May is just behind us now, and writing about our trip and the cool rain and lovely days reminds me why I always say that May is the very best time to visit this part of Oregon.  Our green grasses are now browning in the lower pasture where we don't irrigate.  The days have been nearly perfect, with only a few reaching the high 80s in the last weeks of the month. 

Astrological summer begins this year on June 20th at the Summer Solstice.  However, meteorological summer, as defined by climatologists, runs from June 1st to August 31st. This is a fixed, three-month period that is used for more convenient data analysis and comparison of seasonal trends across years. Here, it already feels like summer, and we are expecting triple digits in Grants Pass this coming weekend.  Now it begins.  The sweet spot is over, and now we wait for the heat and the dryness, the possible fires and all the other delights of living in a place that is very nearly perfect, but not quite.