Our first bridges, Western Lane County

Clicking on the linked bridge names will take you to Bridgehunter.com with historical information, location maps and photos. Again, the google map and link to our tour is here. My picasaweb/google photo albums (linked at the left of this page) have many additional photos of the bridges and our trip.

After spending two truly gorgeous days in Brookings at Harris Beach we decided it was time to move on north and inland.  Even though the temperatures were chilly, the sun shone for us at just the right moments to walk the beach several times a day and go see what was in bloom in Azalea Park. On Friday, however, when we packed up to leave, the rain was coming down in earnest.  In fact, no matter where we looked on the weather map in Oregon, it was raining. With Lane County having the most concentrated collection of covered bridges on our map, we decided to cross the coast mountains via Highway 126 from Florence to Eugene.

There are 4 bridges in the western part of Lane County (actually there are five, but we decided that 20 miles of back road to the Fisher Bridge at the very northern border could wait for another day). Our night destination was the ever ready Valley River Mall in Eugene, no hookups and no reservations needed.  Just a free space to be for two days in a good location for some bridge hunting. There was no rush to arrive so we could take our time ambling along the back roads finding the bridges.

First on our list was the Deadwood Bridge, northeast of Mapleton and Swisshome along the Suislaw River.  For the first time, (but not the last on this trip), we remarked about how unlikely it would be for us to travel this back road for any other reason, especially on a rainy gray day.  We have been past Mapleton many times, always turning east on 126 and never going north on Highway 36 along the river.  The Suislaw was full and beautiful during this time of year, and the river valley was green and dripping wet.

We stopped in Deadwood at a closed local store to park the MoHo and unhook since we had no idea what condition the road might be in for the additional miles on Deadwood Loop to the bridge.  It is always a bit of a surprise when you round the corner for the first view of any of these bridges.  They seem so naturally settled into the environment around them, and so sturdy and graceful.  We saw Howe Trusses for the first time, unaware that we would grow to really love the words “Howe Truss” by the end of our bridge travels.  Wikipedia has a great description of the Howe Truss, a rather amazing piece of engineering that is more prevalent in the west because we still had access to huge timbers during the early part of this century when most of these bridges were built. Another striking feature of this bridge is the slanting floor, made so to ease driving around the curve where the bridge is built.

We enjoyed Deadwood and then programmed in the coordinates for the next bridge, located on Nelson Mountain Road, not too far away.  Even with good maps, there is no way to really know what condition the road might be in.  Often there is a sign that says “One Lane Bridge Ahead” but just as often there are no warnings of clearances and no clue if there is anyplace to turn around. For this reason, we tried to explore the back bridge roads with the Tracker whenever possible.  At least we could usually turn around or drive through the bridge if needed.

Nelson Creek bridge was more open than Deadwood, and quite lovely in its rural pastoral setting.  If you look closely at the photos of each bridge, you will notice that the portals are just a bit different.  We really didn’t notice this until we had seen several bridges and were reviewing the pictures.  Somewhere along the way, we read that often the portals were changed and enlarged in later restorations to make room for the larger loads traveling through the bridges.

We traveled back to Deadwood to pick up the MoHo once again, and then back to Mapleton and the main highway to Eugene.  East of Mapleton, where the Suislaw River crosses the highway, is the Wildcat Bridge.  You can see it from the road, but there isn’t much of a pull off, and we had no idea how narrow the road was that curved back under the highway bridge down to the river. 

Mo decided to be safe and parked the MoHo off the road while I walked down to the bridge for photos.  It was a good plan!  The road is short, steep, and narrow, and the underpass of the highway is very low, with no place to turn around at the bridge.  Once again, I found an A. L Striker bridge, the superintendent of bridge building in Lane County during this time period. As well, there was another subtle difference in the portal shape, as this bridge was used for years as a passage for logging trucks over the river.

Just a bit west of Eugene was another spot on the map to explore.  The Coyote Creek covered bridge  is south of Veneta, location of the infamous Oregon Country Fair.  The road to Coyote Creek is called Territorial Highway, a name that triggered all sorts of wondering as to its origin.  Along the way were some lovely pastoral farms and forests and again, the road leading to the bridge was short and narrow and steeply curved.  Once again we parked up on the main road and unhooked the Tracker to go find the bridge and once again it was a good idea.

The Coyote Creek bridge was in good repair, with some new siding and some old, and again, there was a subtle difference in the portal openings and in the slant of the sidewalls over the creek.  At some bridges there are signs with an explanation of the history and renovations and at others there isn’t even a nameplate. 

By the time we reached the mall it was early evening and we were ready to kick back and relax with a glass of wine and some supper.  Even before we parked, the security person met us with the paper to fill out for our free two night stay and directions to park in a different area this time since the spring games were coming up the next day and shuttles would be plying the parking lot to the University of Oregon.   

Clicking on the linked bridge names will take you to Bridgehunter.com with historical information, location maps and photos. Again, the google map and link to our tour is here. My picasaweb/google photo albums (linked at the left of this page) have many additional photos of the bridges and our trip.

Finding Covered Bridges in Oregon

The map below of the bridges we have visited is available publicly on Google Maps titled “Covered Bridge RV Trip May 2012” (thanks to Rick for helping me figure out how to find the right html link for this map)

I have spent the last few days trying to figure out just how to write about this rather amazing trip. The combination of navigation, location, photographing, researching, and finally enjoying the bridges is a bit daunting to write about. I decided that first I would just drop in the map I made on Google, then give a truly great website link, and later go into more detail. Future posts will be organized by county and will have my own thoughts and some of the photos (you know of course that I took way to many!)

We started with the ODOT website for the covered bridges and downloaded the PDF with coordinates and directions to each bridge. Mo painstakingly drafted the approximate location of each bridge on a paper map and I used that to try to navigate with the Garmin, Google on the phone, and my trusty Gazateer for Oregon.

There are many websites for covered bridges but the most amazing resource that I found is called “Bridgehunter”, an extremely thorough database of bridges throughout the country. Read the “about” section to learn about how and why this website was started and how it is maintained.

In the next few days, as I write about the bridges and our wanderings, I’ll link to Bridgehunter for each one, and if you choose you can read about the history of the bridge, see many photos both current and historic, (in addition to mine of course), see a google map to the individual bridge and even a google street view if one is available.

Wandering

My soul is filled up with green. We have been traveling through long narrow valleys filled with luscious spring greens, reminiscent of the hills of the Carolinas where my family heritage resides.  Never lived there, but I remember feeling at home and completely familiar when we drove through the little town of Cherokee in North Carolina, among the hardwoods and rhododendrons.  These hidden Oregon valleys are much like that.  I can imagine how wonderful it felt to the pioneers crossing the Oregon Trail when they at last reach the verdant, green paradise called Oregon. Familiar, welcoming and nurturing after all those miles crossing prairies and deserts, day after day of brown and tan and gray.

Oregon is many things, but right now, west of the Cascades, it is green, thick, lush, vibrant, neon, chartreuse, every possible shade of green you could imagine and more. The green somehow fills me up, makes my insides vibrate and tingle, makes something inside me expand. Mo and I have spent the last few days wandering slowly through a part of Oregon that we usually pass by at 65 miles per hour on the interstate.

The Willamette Valley is large, and extends from Eugene to Portland, bisected very nearly through the middle by Interstate 5.  I can’t count the times I have driven this road, usually to get from one end of Oregon to the other, as quickly as possible.

I was often heading south from Northern Idaho, where I lived for more than 30 years, traveling for the holidays to the youngest daughter in Medford, then later in Corvallis.  Then later again traveling north when that same daughter lived in Albany and I was in Klamath Falls, and north again to spend time with the oldest daughter settled in Portland.  Always moving as quickly as possible, noticing the green and the blue skies in the spring and the brown and smoky skies of fall, but never really seeing it.  Not like I have seen it this week.

Searching for covered bridges is more about the back road journeys than it is about the bridges, although after seeing so many, I find myself feeling great affection for them.  At first we thought they all looked pretty much the same, but in actuality there are subtle nuances and each bridge has it’s own personality, its own character. Some are tucked away in little unknown canyons crossing small streams, others on big rivers like the Suislaw in a valley we never knew about before this trip.

There will be more to write about the journey, the places we found, the roads we traveled, the individual bridges, but that will come later, this is just as Erin says, “a teaser”.  At the moment, I am still just soaking up the green.  Enjoying the rain and the brilliant sunshine between the rains, the wild clouds moving across the skies, and green, always green, everywhere green. 

On the Road Again

Seems as though I just got home from Texas, but when I looked at the calendar it has been over two weeks since I returned.  Geez.  Don’t blink, or life will speed right over you, minus the speed bumps to slow you down!

The MoHo is in Brookings, where the snow never flies and chains are never required,  and we try to get over there for a road trip at least once every month.  A week or two on the road is always a great reprieve from everyday life, even if that everyday life is really quite wonderful.

For our last few trips we have traveled a good distance, often heading south into California to find warm sunshine and blue skies in the winter.  This time we decided that it would be great to just hang out in our own beautiful state of Oregon and explore the hidden nooks and crannies in the Willamette Valley and surroundings that we have missed while running off to the coast and then heading south.

Mo found an Oregon website of all the covered bridges in the state, something Oregon is famous for, so we have the google map with 71 bridges pinpointed to guide us.  Will we see them all?  Of course not.  Who knows how many we will actually see, but it gives us a little bit of something to make us move from one place to another at least.  We have no plans, no reservations, no particular destination.  We are going to wander for two weeks and see what appears.  Oregon is just so beautiful this time of year, especially on the west side.  The flowers are blooming, the orchards are blossoming, the grass is green and often the skies are blue. 

Here at home, on the east side of the Cascades just south of Crater Lake, spring is just barely coming out.  All it takes are a few more warm days and I should have at  least the beginnings of flowers and blossoms on our own trees.  With a little luck, we won’t miss the tulips coming into bloom that I planted last fall.

I returned from Texas barely in time to take a breath and prepare for Easter.  With my oldest daughter in Texas, my middle daughter plying the country with her truck, and my son way back in Missouri, once again I was blessed by the fact that my youngest lives in Klamath, close enough to bring the family for a wonderful day of spring time celebrations.  This year they came the night before so they could be here for the early morning festivities.  With the kids now 19 and 13 the Easter Bunny doesn’t have to stay up late to hide eggs any more, but we still love that big Sunday morning breakfast and waking up together for coffee and family time.

Kevin, my SIL, brought his Big Green Egg  BBQ and smoker out for the day and made some of his famous baby back ribs while Melody followed some great instructions for coloring eggs with silk ties.  They were gorgeous!  We are all planning to collect more ties for next Easter. 

The rest of the day we made an Easter cake for entertainment.  With some internet searches, the kids decided on the “bunny butt in the stump” chocolate cake.  I had to buy fondant for the bunny and the decorations.  That was a shocker!  Fondant comes in a tub for about 20 bucks, and then I had to buy the different fancy colorings to go with it.  It feels a bit like play-doh and tastes a bit like old gum.  Ah well, the cake and frosting were fabulous and the decorating was so much fun.  Who cares if you don’t eat the fancy green leaves and cute flowers.  My 13 year old grandson was pretty good at flower making, and while I expected my artistic granddaughter to do well with this, the grandsons enthusiasm was a surprise.  We had a great day together.

Monday morning I was back to work, again racking up two weeks straight of soil survey work to give me the freedom of another two weeks off so we can amble off in the MoHo.  I spent the rainy weekend in between finally finishing the quilt table runner for my friend Maryruth and finishing up the baby blanket I started over a month ago when Mo’s new grand niece was born.  Sure glad I got it done before she was too big to care!.  An easy pattern with inexpensive yarn that is washable made it a simple gift.  It was cuddly! 

Blogging of course slipped way back to the bottom of the list.  Reading blogs slipped as well.  In fact, I realized that I was letting the blog world take up much more of my time than I wanted.  I made the difficult decision to stop following many blogs so that I wouldn’t feel as though I was always behind.  I have heard other bloggers mention this problem lately.  Some have discussed it much more eloquently than I can. The whole thing has just expanded exponentially.  I went back to my original reason for blogging, keeping track of my life for myself, my own personal diary, and letting those who care about me know what I have been up to.

   Of course, I have made some real friends through this blogging thing, and of course there are some old friends I continue to follow, but I am giving myself permission to opt out, to quit worrying if I am blogging enough, or am interesting enough, or paying enough attention. I refuse to compete for comments or readership.  It is just too yukky.  If you are still here reading, thanks.  In the mean time, I’ll do like several other bloggers have done recently and be really happy that I can look back and see what I was doing this time of year back in 2010 or 2008 or whenever.  I can’t count the times that Mo says to me, “When did we do….?” and I will answer, “Let me go check the blog”.

Today and tomorrow we will load up the Tracker one last time before bringing the MoHo back home.  The kayaks are coming down and going on top, the bikes are going on the rack in back, we are packing shorts and raincoats, and everything in between.  Wednesday morning we will head for Brookings.  I haven’t a clue where we will go next except it will be somewhere right here in Oregon.

To Texas, no Mo, and no MoHo either.

Why in the world would an RV loving traveler drive to Texas without her motorhome?  Kids!  Always blame it on the kids.  My daughter decided it was time to move to Texas and we decided together that it might be nice for me to help her drive the UHaul.  Gives us lots of mother-daughter time, right? 

Quality time in a loud bumpy truck pulling a car on a trailer, covering up to 800 miles per day.  Blog stories about our regular RV travels are leisurely rambles from place to place with all the wonderful delights of carrying along your food and kitchen, your bedroom, not the least of all, your bathroom.

I kept thinking I didn’t need to really blog about this at all, since it isn’t really part of the MoHo Travels, but it is a record of what in the heck has been happening in my life, so here it is.  Not leisurely, not filled with campground reviews and hikes and beautiful sights.  Just the road, the unfurling yellow lines, the sunrise as we keep moving east, the glare of headlights as we continue driving into the night.

We drove down I-5, so familiar from the many trips Mo and I have taken on that route, with many sections repaired and much better than they have been in the past.  We crossed the pass over 58, surrounded by snow but without any falling on us.  We passed Desert Hot Springs buffeted by the desert winds, spending a night in a motel in Indio.  Crossing Arizona and New Mexico, Deb got her first view of Mexico across the “mighty” Rio Grande overlooking El Paso toward Juarez, at 60 mph. I told her long stories of the history of the Rio Grande River and how it has been used and reused and dammed and diverted until the trickle that makes it to the gulf no longer feeds that sea with richness and the shrimp are dying.

We drove many miles within sight of the border, going through some border checks, and after 800 miles that day we slept again at a motel in Van Horn, Texas and rose before sunrise for the last leg into San Antonio. Deb was enthralled by the Texas Big Bend Country, the mesas and long vistas, her first view of this kind of landscape. I called Mo after many hours of no cell service and her first words were, “Have you been hit by a tornado?”  I guess two tornados touched down in Dallas as we were approaching San Antonio, but that was north of here and they are now moving northeast so we are fine.

We covered 2030 miles together in 3 days of driving, with gasoline running 4.15 in most of California and 3.79 here in Texas.  The UHaul got less miles per gallon than the MoHo and we spent just over $1000. bucks on gasoline, didn’t eat a lot, and paid 63 to 99 for the hotel rooms for the 5 or 6 hours of sleep we allowed ourselves. I had my cell phone, but I can’t believe how many hundreds of miles on a large interstate don’t support any bars at all, much less any kind of internet.  I read a few facebook posts from bloggers here and there, but don’t have a clue what is going in the blog world except for a few really important things.

Nan is hanging in there while her husband fights to breathe.  Pray for her. Al and Kelly are almost home, and my heart broke along with everyone else when I read that little Cora Motormouse was gone. I know Rick and Paulette are home in Canada, Erin and Mui went camping among the bluebells, Laurie and Odel are making tracks to central California, Karen and Al got their kayaks in some really gorgeous water, and Donna and Russ are having some doggie troubles.  I’ll catch up eventually with the rest.  For now, my daughter and her Texas honey are unpacking a big truck into a small home and I am sitting in another motel with air conditioning to adjust to the high temperatures and humidity.  I plan to sleep a lot between now and the time I fly back home to Oregon and my simple life. 

Trips like this one really make me see how lucky I am to have the chance to travel in a motorhome.  Although the hard push of a fast road trip actually has it’s pleasures as well.  White line fever he called it, wasn’t that Merle Haggard? There is something extremely satisfying about covering a lot of miles in a short time with a hard push.  It was fun.  I am beat to death and tired as heck, but it was a blast. I am really going to miss having my daughter as close as Portland, but I guess this will just be all the more reason for Mo and I to go spend some winter times in Texas with the MoHo.