02-17-2021 Camping Beside the Trinity River at Hayden Flat

The sun was shining on Wednesday morning when we left Eureka.  We knew that our weather on the route home from Eureka was going to be a bit of a challenge. The possibility of skipping the Trinity River and Highway 299 route east to Redding and instead driving back north on 101 was eliminated by the road closure due the the slide south of Crescent City.

With weather predictions for snow on I-5 on the way home, we accepted the possibility that we might have to stop in Redding before we hit snow at Dunsmuir and Mt Shasta.  The other option was that we might have to stop in Yreka.   We thought about simply driving fast and going directly home on Wednesday, skipping our planned night of camping at Hayden Flat.  The thought was so disappointing to all of us, especially Deborah, who said she had no problem returning a day or two late since she was still on work leave for the rest of the week.

When we left Ferndale and drove back north to Arcata the sun was shining brilliantly and the weather reports for the day ahead were close to perfect.  Traveling east on Highway 299 is a beautiful route and the best way to cross the coast range of California from the ocean to the Sacramento Valley.  There are other routes that Mo and I have taken and said “never again” in the MoHo.

The initial climb to Berry Pass isn’t particularly difficult, with a few steep hairpin curves.  The road is wide and well marked and we arrived at the Burney Point Vista just west of the pass in time for lunch.  The parking area wasn’t full but there were several Cal Trans work trucks lined up. 

Must be their lunch time too.  We parked with a view over the distant mountains, opened up the slide for comfort and settled in for a nice lunch.  The sun was warm inside the MoHo but it was brisk and breezy outdoors.

I brought out the frying pan and the olive oil and we managed to turn our cold limp french fries into something delightful for a yummy lunch.  Deb and I enjoyed a bit of the sandwich meat also heated up and much tastier than it had been the previous evening at the restaurant.

We switched drivers, so that I could drive and Deb could be in the front seat during the next section of highway which was much more curvy than the first part.  The route along the Trinity River is beautiful, climbing several hundred feet above the river far below and then dropping down again to river level. 

Mo and I had camped at Hayden Flat several years ago, and hoped to do so again.  There are two sections of the campground, with the lower section on the river side of the highway and the upper section across the road from the river.  As we approached the campground, we saw the road down to the river camp, but missed the turn. 

It seemed impossible to get down there in the Mo Ho from the vantage point of the road.  As we continued a few hundred feet toward the upper camp we were disappointed to see strong green gates announcing that the campground was closed.  Previously reading on the internet (when we still had a signal) we also discovered that the upper camp had been converted to a group site campground. We wouldn’t be able to camp there without reservations even it if had been open. An important side note; we had NO internet signal on any of our phones from Berry Pass on Highway 299 until the next day as we approached Weaverville)

A bit disappointed we slowly continued east along the highway, exploring the possibility of boondocking in one of the wide flat areas along the river.  There are many access points and even a spot with porta potties for the many people who kayak this river.

Continuing past an RV Park which looked a bit iffy and very crowded, we decided to turn around and keep looking for a pleasant roadside night spot along the highway.  Surprise surprise!  On the return trip we saw a wide spot for Hayden Flat Lower Campground, and pulled off to check out the access road.

It wasn’t as bad as we thought.  We unhooked the car to drive down and explore our options and decided getting into the empty campground was a piece of cake.  I drove down in the motorhome while Mo and Deb walked around to select our site. 

We finally settled on the perfect spot, with a fire ring overlooking the river and a nice level place for the MoHo.  As is often the case, an empty campground provides way too many choices to make it easy to decide where to be. The road was above us so there was a bit of road noise, but we didn’t imagine that would be a problem as evening progressed.  The sound of the river was loud as well, so that masked anything unpleasant that drifted down from the road.

Within minutes of getting settled in, Mo had unloaded the firewood and started a nice campfire.  She had packed enough wood for a possible fire on one night, and decided that it was time to get it going even though it was only 2:30 in the afternoon.  Mo does love her campfires.

We sat in our chairs in the warm sunshine, enjoying the fire, the river and a glass of wine letting the afternoon slide by peacefully.  Deb laughed and said she had wondered what we might have had planned for our time between parking and dinner.  She said we usually had some kinds of plans, but this time our only plan was to simply sit and enjoy.  She loved every minute of it. 

Our firewood was getting low and the fire was burning low as well when we all tried to find some kind of wood lying around camp.  Deb offered to drive off in the car to the RV Park we had seen earlier to get some firewood.  Sure enough she returned with a big bunch of wood for only 5 bucks.  In state parks it costs 5 bucks for about a quarter of what she got.  The extra wood extended our campfire long enough that we were able to heat the enchiladas over the fire and still have plenty of coals left for roasting marshmallows together.Dinner was delicious, with homemade enchiladas heated on the fire and another bit salad.

Deb and I both said we didn’t really like marshmallows, but roasting them was fun.  Somehow the marshmallows tasted delicious.  I can no longer say I don’t really like roasted marshmallows.  We talked about how our marshmallow sticks were just a bit short and Mo mentioned the telescoping sticks we had seen once in the past.

It doesn’t take much for Deb to notice small details.  This morning (a week later) a package arrived on the porch. It was a gift from Deborah thanking us for the trip and a nice little canvas case of telescoping marshmallow sticks!!  Yayyy!

The night was dark and cold and beautiful if not starry.  The clouds moved in shortly after sunset and we all slept well.  By morning, it was dark and dreary once again, and as we packed up to drive east the rain began.

I drove for a time, following the river and watching the rain get heavier and thicker until it turned to sleet and then to snow.  We were still 50 miles west of Redding as the snow started sticking to the road in earnest.  At a particularly snowy summit we decided it would be best to unhook the Tracker. 

Mo drove the MoHo and I followed in the Tracker.  As fate would have it, very soon after we passed the summit the snow once again turned to rain.

A few miles before we reached Redding we pulled over again to hook up the Tracker and continued toward town.  Stopping just outside of the city where 299 intercepts I-5, we once again checked the weather.  Although we thought we might stay in Redding for the night, the predictions for I-5 over Mt Shasta were encouraging.  Mixed rain and snow over Shasta was predicted, however the weather cams for Siskiyou Pass at the Oregon state line were daunting.  We decided to continue north toward Yreka with a plan to stay at an RV park there to wait out the storm.

Crossing Shasta was easy, with just a bit of snow, but nothing Mo and I haven’t managed in past years traveling to and from Grants Pass on I-5 over Mt Shasta.  Once down in the valley south of Yreka the snow let up and it began to rain.  We searched the internet and found the Waiika RV Park.  Near the Rain Rock Casino, it was an excellent choice.

We pulled in, signed in, and settled in for a night of waiting and watching the weather cams over the mountains on our route toward home.  The park was pleasant enough, with a level site with full hookups, and very nice, very clean bathrooms with great showers.  A quarter for 5 minutes of good hot water seemed like a real luxury.  I used three quarters and I think Deb said she used 4.  Another big salad and leftovers for supper were perfect.

I don’t think any of us slept very well, wondering what the next morning would bring.  We didn’t know for sure if we would be able to get home or not.  As soon as it was light, I started checking the web cams, Trip Advisor, ODOT Road Conditions, and any other resources I might find to let us know how the route ahead was being affect by the weather.

We were thrilled to see that the route looked do-able and packed up the MoHo and were on the road by 9.  With only a tiny bit of ice and fog at the Siskiyou Summit we were pulling into the driveway at home by 11:15.  It rained off and on along the way, but once again for the last time on this trip the travel angels kicked in and the rain stopped just long enough for all of us to unload the car and the rig as we settled back in here at home. 

From the beginning to the very end it was a perfect, delightful trip and a wonderful way to share our travels with my daughter.  I will treasure the memory always.

01-15-2015 Joshua Tree Heaven

Current Location: Rocky Point Oregon Current temperature: 45 degrees F and clear

Can you see all the magical people in this pile of rocks?  Look close. 

When Judy (bird lady of blogland) and I were visiting, we talked about our blogging habits and one of the thoughts that came up was how important it is to write when everything is fresh.  Some folks are diligent about this, writing everything on the same day in first person present tense.  Others are the opposite extreme, waiting sometimes months to get back to a special trip with tons of information and magnificent photos.

I fall somewhere in between.  If we are traveling, I try hard to keep up, but on almost every extended outing, I’ll get behind.  Such is the case today.  I am once again at home, sitting at the office window looking out through the forest, trying to slip back into how it felt to be camping in the dry sunny almost warmth of Joshua Tree National Park.

Mo and I love to visit Joshua Tree.  In 2008, when we first brought the MoHo home to Oregon from Texas, we stopped for a a bit of exploring around the Joshua Tree campgrounds, and almost got ourselves into a tight situation on one of the Jumbo Rocks campground loops. 

In 2013, even though we were camped at Desert Hot Springs, we spent some time exploring the National Park and loved every minute of it.  I made a mental note that we should try to camp in Jumbo Rocks campground on our trip south in 2014.  My planning wasn’t too great, however, since we arrived on New Years Day, and the campground, which has no reservations, was jam packed for the holiday.

We solved that problem with a terrific time boondocking outside the park just south of the southern entrance, within view of I-10. What a great way to see in the new year.

This year, we saved our Joshua Tree time for last.  It was hard leaving Arizona after such a short time, but miscellaneous home issues required that we get back on the road north in short order.  Finally, after all these years, we managed a night of beautiful dry camping in the Jumbo Rocks Campground at Joshua Tree National Park.

I somehow expected that in mid January, after all the holidays were over, the park would be quiet.  While it was much quieter than last year, there were still many people exploring, and we were lucky to find a spot long enough for the MoHo when we arrived around 3 in the afternoon. With a short stop in Quartzite, I was still drooling over some of the new Class A rigs that we toured at La Mesa RV.  In spite of all that glass, and all that space, I still love tucking my little 26 footer into tight spaces in national parks, state parks, and forest service campgrounds.

The campground is long, with winding roads and a few side loops, but the majority of sites are sized for tent camping.  Sites that are large enough for bigger rigs are built parallel to the road, and require some forethought and jockeying to settle in properly.

We figured out that in order to get our slide out on the private side away from the road, we would have to park facing the opposite direction and accept the slight inconvenience of the doorway opening directly into the road.

It worked out just fine, but I wouldn’t have wanted to be any longer.  There were a few big rigs in some of the areas at the far end of the park, but I would imagine that they had to wait around to get a site big enough to accommodate their size.

Both of us have always wanted to camp among the beautiful boulders, and with our windows opening up to a giant jumbled pile of wonderfulness, we watched the evening light shifting colors on the granite, and the next morning enjoyed the changing light of sunrise.

The night was cold, with frost on the car when morning broke.  There were people in tents nearby and I was reminded of days camping in cold tents and warm sleeping bags, trying to keep warm making coffee over the fire.  Such luxury.  I snuggled back into the down comforter, enjoying the morning with no hurry to beat the sunrise.  I planned to hike, but I didn’t need to do it while the frost was still hanging around.

The other interesting tidbit about Jumbo Rocks is the generator rules.  Generators can be run from 7 to 9 am, from 12 to 2 pm, and from 6 to 8 pm.  Different.  We still had a good charge, even with our furnace running, but it was nice to top it off with an hour of generator time around 9 am before we took off hiking.

The hike to Skull Rock from the campground is well marked, however it was easy to wind between the rocks from our campsite until we intercepted the trail meandering east toward the attraction.  At only 1.3 miles, when we found Skull Rock, we weren’t ready to quit, so Mo and I wandered around the boulders for a time, enjoying all the shapes and shadows of the crazy beautiful landscape.

What a wonderful place! In all our years passing by this trailhead, we had never actually seen Skull Rock.  I had no clue until we almost ran into it that the famous face is very close to the parking area right on the main park road. 

This section of Joshua Tree is filled with fantasmagoric boulders that people young and old love to climb and explore.  It is almost like a giant jungle gym for grownups, or maybe not so grownups.  We saw some teenagers doing scary things on high boulders that made me wonder if this park has a high incidence of injuries and rescues. We everything from old folks meandering around the rocks to the aforementioned teenagers, to professional free climbers with some equipment, and other climbers with a ton of equipment. 

Once again, we passed many sights on our way out that reminded us to put at least a week of dry camping here on the agenda the next time we travel south in the winter.

As I was walking along behind Mo in the morning sunlight, I felt myself slip into a state of wonder that is a bit hard to fathom or explain.  I was just so incredibly happy, so very much in that moment, so high on the light and the rocks and the sandy trail in front of me.  I hope I can remember that moment at times when I am feeling low or bored with the everydayness of life in general.  Moments like that are rare and wonderful.  Most of the time I am in good spirits, but this was somehow different.  Call it Bliss, I suppose, I was there! 

We had a wonderful breakfast, a wonderful hike, and a wonderful morning to slip under the belt before we had to leave the clear beautiful desert behind us and head west into the foggy dreariness of the Central Valley of California.  Only thing that made the drive tolerable was the anticipation of spending time with friends on our way home.

Next:  Visiting Jimmie and Nickie in Nevada City!

East to the Desert

In spite of the fact that we could have continued traveling south along 101, we decided to take the quickest route to the desert.  From our overnight at Camp Roberts we turned east at Paso Robles toward the dreaded Interstate 5.  For the first time, the central coast was thick with dirty air, something I had never seen in this area, and as we continued east toward the Great Valley, the pollution got worse. 

Highway 46 was busy with traffic, and a surprising number of RV’s were headed west. The landscape was dramatic in it’s lack of drama.  The annual grasses of the California grassland zone were shades of tan and gray, with nothing to punctuate the hills except a few cattle here and there.  With the brown tinge to the air, it made the grasslands all the more drab.

Ugly is relative, however, and when we reached the Lost Hills area just west of the I-5 onramp, we saw landscapes that were impressive in their ugliness.  The alkali flats west of Bakersfield would be bad enough without man’s intervention, but the forest of oil wells made it breathtakingly ugly.  I felt a bit guilty complaining about the ugliness while I rolled through it in an RV sucking gasoline.  How to reconcile that disconnect?  I haven’t a clue.  I hate what oil does to our country, the wars fought over it, the landscapes destroyed by it, but I love my RV and the freedom to travel.  Hypocritical as heck, but I probably won’t stop traveling!

Once on the five, the pavement again deteriorated while the air pollution got worse as we approached the Grapevine.  I reminisced with Mo about the days back in the 50’s when my family would leave Duarte at 2 am to drive the Grapevine when it was truly a grapevine of curves and steep hills, traveling north on Highway 99 for our annual camping trip to Yosemite.  Good memories!  I also remember driving the “new” Grapevine in my Volkswagen bus as a brand new driver scared to death and surrounded on all sides by semis.  It was the same today, semis on all sides.

We took a quick exit off the highway for signs claiming “fresh sweet oranges” and the small family farm store and petting zoo.  The Murray Farm had 20 varieties of citrus, all from their own groves, and the navels were just in.  The owner said that they were six weeks late this year. There was a cooler with samples for all varieties including Meyer lemons and a very strange looking fruit called Buddha’s Hand, actually citron.  I had no clue that the stuff in fruit cakes came from something that was this strange.  I settled for a six buck bag of incredibly sweet navel oranges and we were again on our way.

As we climbed the grade, the smog began to thin a bit, and we were spared the worst of it by turning east on Highway 138, a direct road to the desert and the town of Lancaster.  I lived in Lancaster in the 60’s, for just a few months, and for the life of me I couldn’t find a single thing that looked familiar.  This sleepy town that once was barely 50,000 has now exploded to a strip mall metropolis of more than 150,000 people.

We thought about boondocking somewhere, but the landscape was broken up by private “ranchette’s”, and we didn’t have a BLM map with us.  I pulled up the AllStays web site and began searching for campgrounds.  There are surprisingly few places to camp in this area, but we found a state park due east about 17 miles from town and decided that 18 bucks for a dry campsite would be a close second to camping for free somewhere in the desert, and probably safer.

It was a great choice.  Saddleback Butte State Park campground was completely empty except for a camp host.  The park had shelters for the picnic tables, fire pits, water available, and even a dump station. We chose a spot near the northern part of the park, farthest from the camp host ( whom we never saw) and settled in.

An evening walk before sunset was perfectly quiet and we found beautiful Joshua Trees bigger than any we have seen.  The park is a haven for desert wildlife, including the desert tortoise, various snakes and rodents, coyotes and even mountain lions. As night fell, the silence was  perfect, the skies dark with a new moon, and the stars were brilliant.  I brought some soup from home that made a perfectly simple supper and we settled into to complete darkness and silence for our first night in the desert.

For the rest of the photos, including several shots of the Saddleback Butte campground, click here.

Day 37 August 11 Hinton to Jasper NP and the worst moment of the trip

We woke this morning to misty drifts of fog slipping in and out of the hills around us and by the time we dropped down to the town of Hinton for fuel, the fog was so thick it was hard to find the gas station.  Even early in the morning, there was considerable traffic on Canada 16, where Hinton is the gateway town between Edmonton and Jasper National Park. 

We were in no hurry, though, and as we climbed into the massive Rockies, the fog lifted, exposing a higher level of cloud cover above us.  When you enter the National Park, if you don’t plan to stop, they will wave you through without a fee.  We told the agent that we wanted to kayak a bit and then find a place to camp somewhere between Jasper and Banff and she smiled and charged us a little over 16 bucks for a pass to both Jasper and Banff that was good until 4PM tomorrow.  Perfect.

With a park map in hand, we decided that Maligne Lake looked like a perfect spot for kayaking and turned east, crossing the Athabasca River to travel beyond Maligne Canyon to the lake.  About half way there we found a great empty turnout and parked the MoHo, thinking we could save a bit on gas if we just drove the baby car.  I am so glad we did that, because the parking situation at the lake was tight to say the least, and while there was plenty of room when we arrived at 10am or so, by the time we got off the lake it was an entirely different story!

We launched the boats in cloudy skies, but after a bit of time on the lake the sun peeked through, warming us and making everything in view just sparkle. Maligne Lake is famous for the island at the far end of the lake, Spirit Island.  It was a photo of this little island that made me want to put my boat on this lovely water.  The only problem is that once again, we are in a very popular national park, and concession boat rides to Spirit Island are the only way most folks get to see it.

The cruise boat traffic was busy, with a boat leaving about every ten minutes and another one returning.  The lake was beautifully calm, so the big swells from the wakes from these boats were dramatic, and we just rode along with them.  The lake is more than 7 miles long and we really didn’t have the time for a 14 mile paddle, so we traveled along the west side of the lake about half way before crossing over to the eastern shore for a break.  The water was perfectly clear, and Abby loved her swim while we walked a bit along the shore.

It was a beautiful day, a beautiful moment, a beautiful time on a beautiful lake.  Ahhhh. 

When we arrived back at the launch dock, we were surprised to find it crammed with people.  They were all hanging around in the middle of the boat launch taking photos, standing around everywhere, and there were so many cars in the parking lot that we knew there was no way we would manage to get the car down to the launch.  Instead, we picked up our 34 pound wonder boats and carried them up to the lot for loading.  The rental RV’s were bumper to bumper trying to find parking, and one lucky person in a sedan had managed to park in the ditch and was stuck.  We just loaded up the boats and got out of there as quickly as possible.  By this time the sun was out in full force and it was actually hot. 

We were happy to see the motorhome peacefully waiting in the one turnout that wasn’t occupied, hooked up the baby car and made some lunch before heading back out the Maligne Lake Road to the highway.  On the way we saw several wildlife traffic jams, but one of them was actually worth stopping for, and I joined the crowds taking photos of a very unconcerned bull elk.  Mo said she had never seen a rack as big as this guy, and I don’t think I have ever been that close to a bull elk ever.  Probably not very smart.  Back in my soil survey days, we had stories about encounters with bull elk, but usually that was in the fall during the rut.  This guy was pretty darn tame, I guess.

We ambled on through the park, enjoying the views and the animals and decided that stopping in Jasper for cute little shops wasn’t worth the effort to park.  Instead we drove slowly with all the other tourists, and I took photos out of the window cafes, and stores, and tourists.  Jasper town was really quite nice, with many old homes converted to B&B’s, and lovely gardens.  I could enjoy staying in Jasper for a week or so and taking more time for hiking the many trails and kayaking the many lakes.  The maps looked so enticing.

Instead, we were getting into the home mode, and after six weeks traveling magnificent Alaska and the Yukon, this lovely little park full of tourists was a bit less exciting than it might be if it were our planned destination.  We continued on south along the Athabasca River, planning to stop at any of the campgrounds along the Icefield Parkway that had room for us without a reservation.

Not far south we saw a campground down along the river, missed the turn somehow, and pulled into another turnout to retrace our steps.  Mo said, “Wow, that is a great mountain”. I stepped out of the rig with the camera in hand to get a good photo, and Mo said one minute I was there and the next minute I was nowhere.  With my eyes gawking at the mountain and my camera pointed up, I stepped into a deep hole in the asphalt and went down with a very hard crash.  All I saw was broken glass and plastic strewn out in front of me, and I didn’t give a whit about whatever was going on with my body.  There were half a dozen people in the parking lot who must have thought I was nuts, screaming, “It’s thousands of dollars, it’s thousands of dollars!!”

I was a bit skinned and bruised but that had nothing to do with the sick feeling in my stomach.  Deanna’s lens. The super fast, super heavy, (later I found out it is $1539 bucks of super) lens took the full brunt of the fall.  Not to mention my brand new camera. The lens filter was splintered and the metal edge of the lens was bent, the mechanism was stiff and acting funny.  Duh.  I clicked. Nothing.  Clicked again. Nothing.  I am so sick I can’t even cry. I put one of my other lenses on to see if it was just the lens.  Click. Nothing.  Then I look a little bit closer and see that the on/off button has shifted in the fall.  Turn the camera on.  Click. IMAGE! I put Deanna’s lens back on. Click. IMAGE!!

I think it must have been the heft and solidity of that fancy NIKON lens that took the hit and saved the camera.  I tried several shots with Deanna’s lens, and except for a bit of stiffness in the zoom, it seems to still have perfect auto-focus and the images look fine.  Incredible.  Of course, I have to replace her lens, and insurance is $1000 deductible, so it’s coming out of my pocket.  The good part about all this is that I never would spend 1500 bucks to get that lens for myself, and now I have one.  Maybe a bit bent, and maybe not perfect, but still working and now mine.

By the time we backtracked and settled in to Mt Kerkeslin campground, $12 for a dry site, I wanted nothing more to do than sit and drink a beer on the sofa.  My body hurt, my mind hurt, and I was a wreck, even with the reasonably good outcome. I felt like any step I took was going to put me on the ground somehow, it was definitely disconcerting!  Mo took Abby for a walk, and we canned any plans to hike Athabasca Falls. I sat there alone on the sofa saying a ton of “thank yous” to the powers that be for letting the worst moment of our trip not be any worse than it was.

Miles driven today (in the MoHo): 73

The rest of the photos are linked here