Drifting Through Central Oregon

Travelers have a choice. Take a lot or take a little. I anxiously fell for the "what if?" scenario, caved to taking a lot and tossed it all in my car. Literally. Time to hit the road! The plan was to meet friends at the High Desert Museum near Bend, Oregon. In the morning. After a long drive over the Cascades. Option B appealed to me as a more prudent plan: drive to Madras, car camp the night and arrive refreshed in the morning.

The drive out Highway 26 is more scenic, lonely and challenging than taking the freeway south and connecting to Highway 22 east. Leaving the city behind, Sandy is the last significant town on the route. Climbing up and around the southern flanks of Mt. Hood, the snow-speckled mountain provides grand beauty as it watches travelers navigate the little ribbon of cement snaking around its feet. 1.1 million acres of timber coat the rolling foothills in dark green, consisting predominantly of Douglas fir. Once the Highway divides and the southern Highway 97 is taken, a subtle mix and transition takes place. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the firs thin out and begin to be replaced by Ponderosa pine and then western Juniper. These species fare better in the drier climate of central and eastern Oregon while the firs prefer the moisture of the western side of the Cascades. The understory also thins and eventually clears out completely the farther east and south you travel. It has a beauty all its own, one of simplicity and economy.

Sweet smelling sagebrush 

The high plain just south of Mt. Hood, level in all direction for miles, suddenly begins to drop into the basin of the Deschutes River taking the traveler on a winding descent through the canyons carved eons ago by receding glaciers and periodic flooding. Sediment layers display colors and textures era by era, showcasing the years of deposits and erosion that have occurred. Sunsets in this area can be spectacular and the highway designers have made provisions for motorists by adding pull-out spaces along the way where views are particularly spectacular. On one trip I was over an hour late because I stopped so often to catch the setting sun through a screen of forest fire smoke.

Campsite

The Warm Springs Indian Reservation, comprised of the Wasco, Tenino and Paiute tribes, maintains the Kah-Nee-Ta Resort and Spa on the western side of the river. Rising out of the popular rafting center of Maupin, the road takes you up to the eastern plain of cattle country and into Madras. Cove Palisades State Park on the west side of Highway 97, is a heavily used area of boating and recreation on Lake Billy Chinook. But on the east side, away from the frills and thrills of the Cove lies the quiet, unassuming Haystack Reservoir. It is a man-made reservoir stocked with bass and several varieties of trout. Appealing primarily to fishermen, those quiet, early rising, contemplative types, it was the ideal place to spend the night before breezing into Bend. And the price was right: $7 with a National Park Pass/Senior.

Long-awaited sunrise!

As the sun set behind Three Fingered Jack, the last of the water fowl tucked in for the  night, the coyotes chatted from the hills and the smell of damp sage drifted through the cooling night air as raindrops pattered on the car roof. Solitude is good for the soul but car camping can be less than restful when the quick level check of the fold-down seats turns out to be less than anticipated. Tossing all that "what if?" stuff into the front seats, I inflated my trusty air mattress to find that is was longer than the allowed space and only served to exaggerate the less than level sleeping area. Feet to the back hatch, I valiantly tried to find a comfortable position that would allow my tall body its full extension. Alas, the fetal position kept winning as I slipped repeatedly down the incline, tossing and turning in a futile attempt to sleep. Watching the diamond-like stars course the velvet black night sky I increasingly anticipated dawn, then pre-dawn and was rewarded with a slight lightening of the sky. Five o'clock found me bounding out of the car, tossing the "what if's?" back into the bed area and entertaining thoughts of hot coffee at McDonald's.

I was nicely compensated in Redmond as my coffee joined some cooler treats for an impromptu parking lot breakfast. So much for car camping and the romance of a smokey fire pit and French press coffee on the lake. I forgot the coffee pot. With nothing to lose now, I sloshed water on my face in the bathroom, hauled out the girl-important make-up equipment and prepared to look my sleepless best when I met my compadres at the Museum. Arriving an hour early to an empty parking lot, I found a shady spot for the morning's tour and began to slowly feel the pull of heavy eyelids making up for lost time. Snoozing amid the warming pines I determined to catch just a few winks before posing at the entrance for my friends' arrival. Knock, knock. The window tapping announced their arrival at my car instead. There has to be a solution to this car camping dilemma. Stay tuned for it.