Steen's Mountain - Day 3

Elevation Profile - Frenchglen to Alvord Playa

Going up the northern end of Steen's Mountain Loop Road from Page Springs Campground is deceptive in that you have no idea that you're climbing nearly a mile, the slope is so gradual. Steen's was once a flat basalt plain, no different than any of the rest of the area.  Then magma began pushing the Steen's basaltic plate upward, creating a gradual slope from Frenchglen upward to the edge of where the plate was ripped from its neighbor to the east, creating what is in essence a mile-high cliff.  The fault-block mountain was named after Enoch Steen, an army officer who (among other things) chased the native Paiute off what, at that time, was called "Snowy Mountain" by the early fur traders in the area.

Sage in bloom.

Washboards are the rule on gravel roads, and the Loop road excels at washboard. I had recently taken the Baja into the shop because I could hear a loose heat shield vibrating.  After the loop road, the heat shield no longer rattles, probably because it's lying in the gravel somewhere after being shaken from the car.  

The landscape is that dusty sage green dotted with juniper trees.  Some of the sage is in bloom, creating bright yellow spots among the green.  Part way up the mountain is a test patch to see how best to control the spread of juniper which the Paiute used to control with fire.  Since fires are suppressed now, juniper is taking over the landscape (each tree consumes 30-40 gallons of water a day which leaves little for anything else).

Lilly Lake

Lily Lake is (I assume) named for the luxurious lily pads spread across the surface of the lake.  It's like an oasis in an otherwise arid a dry sagebrush environment.  Grass grows abundantly around the lake. Turning off the main road, I discovered a picnic/camp site on the other side that would be a lovely place to spend a few days, though it's probably intended to be a day use area only.  No toilet.  Across the lake, a mule deer looked at me looking at her. We each elected to pretend the other didn't exist.

Fish Lake campground is situated (as you would expect) on Fish Lake, which is stocked with a kind of rainbow called "redsides."  I didn't try to fish as it was mid-day when I was there.  The campground offers camp sites at both it's eastern and western ends.  I would choose the eastern end for the aspen trees offering shelter from the sun.  The other end is pretty open to the sun.  There is a boat ramp of sorts, but no motors allowed. At about 7,500 feet, it probably gets pretty chilly during the night.  There is water at the campground, and vault toilets.

Speaking of aspen trees, some of the valleys on Steen's Mountain are quite spectacular, filled with aspen and grass, which must indicate a fair amount of ground water.

I imagined that all of Steen's Mountain was public property, but in fact a large chunk of it is private.  The aspen valley shown in the photo, for example, might be for sale by the Steens Mountain Packers.  I don't quite understand what that organization does, but they do have a valley for sale for around $750,000 if you're interested.  That price apparently includes a cabin.

Kiger Gorge

The first view of that precipice is not far past Fish Lake at the head of the Kiger Gorge – home range of the Kiger mustangs.

Now, I confess to being a guy afraid of heights.  But the head of the Kiger gorge is so high that you can't even get a sense of how high you are.  It's as though the world is lying before you (though in this case a smoky world because of all the forest fires).  From the parking area it's a hop, skip and jump to the edge, and to signage that explains what you're looking at.  If you take the uphill path from the signs, you end up at the head of the gorge, which is when you realize that the Steen's Mountain loop road is built on a very narrow land bridge between peaks. Steen's is carved into two sections; north and south.  The loop road crosses between them There is so little soil (relative to a mountain) between each viewpoint that it's easy to see that Steen's is actually a very sharp ridge, with nothing to the left, and nothing to the right.

Further along the road, the Little Blitzen Canyon yawns on your right.  The scale of these canyons is hard to imagine.  Huge just doesn't cut it.  Amazing comes close.  Awe-inspiring is good, too. (If you click on the link, click on the image then select view all sizes, then select the original, you can pan across a big view of the canyon.)

The rocks near the top are home to a brilliant orange lichen.  At one place I thought I was seeing a tree that was changing colors, but the binoculars revealed it was a huge boulder completely covered in the lichen.

Also near Little Blitzen Canyon is a rock structure that might have been a shelter at one time.  Three walls stand, though it looks to me like passers-by have been adding to the structure.  In any case it certainly would give relief from the prevailing winds.

A little bit further down the road on the right is the sign identifying Little Blitzen Canyon.  If you pull over and walk a little east on the other side, you come to an unmarked viewpoint that will take your breath away.  This is the first view of the Alvord Desert side of Steen's Mountain.  The link shows a panorama that you can zoom in on and look around.

The next viewpoint up the road is the official look at the Alvord Desert, with Mann Lake to the north, and the Alvord Playa to the south.  Even higher here, the scale of the thing defies imagination.  And way down there, in the Alvord Desert, are ranches and irrigated fields.  Amazing what you can do if you can get some water.  I did not bother taking a picture because it was so smoky that not much would have shown.

From the South Steen's, the road drops back down to level.  But it does it by becoming much narrower and clinging to the side of what would be a 4,000 foot rolling mess if you happened to drop off the edge of the road.  I decided I liked going down better because you can cling to the inside of the road for the most part, and pray that you don't meet anyone coming the other direction (which I did not, thank you).

All in all, Steen's Mountain is a spectacular place.  I want to come back next spring (which is late July around here) and see it when the air is clear and the grass is green.

Steen's Mountain - Day 2

Day 2 – Page Springs Campground, near Frenchglen

Before departing Lake Chickahominy, I spent 15 minutes watching a team of chipmunks devour an apple that a previous camper had pitched under a rock.  By the time the chipmunks found it, it had been conquered by ants.  The first chipmunk to find the apple would dive in and snatch a bite, then push his head and chest through the sand to scrape off the ants.  Ultimately, one bold monk grabbed hold of the apple and dragged it out from under the rock and away from the ants.  Smart guy.  It sometimes takes a bold one to lead the rest out of the fog.

Ponderosa Hotel, Hines, Oregon

In passing through Hines and Burns before heading south, I ran across a strange building that looked modern yet abandoned, as though half-finished.  The building clearly wasn't completed because rebar still emerges from the concrete on the eastern side. A little Google work told me that it was going to be the Ponderosa Hotel in Hines (I can't tell where Hines ends and Burns begins). Locally called the Grey Ghost, the hotel concrete was poured in 1929, but the Great Depression brought construction to a halt, and the hotel was never completed.  It's apparently used to store "stuff" now.  Too bad.  It's a cool building.

Page Springs Campground

The drive to Frenchglen was unenlightening, but Page Springs Campground about 3 miles outside the village is a delight.  Each spot is huge compared to other campgrounds – I feel like I have my own lawn surrounding the parking spot and picnic table.  Backed up to a little creek at the foot of a bluff – it's lovely.  I could live here.

Upon arriving, there were very few other campers, but as the afternoon wore on more and more arrived. I can't see my neighbors to the south, but the family to the north is visible, and I watched with feelings of days past as they erected a giant, canvas, army-surplus tent.  I can so strongly remember the smell of those tents when I was a child and forced to lay down to take a nap during the hottest time of the day (mostly to give the parents a break, I suspect).  Canvas has a peculiar odor, and hot canvas an even more powerful one.  The tent triggered smells for me – of the canvas, and of eggs fried in a deep layer of bacon grease and bitter coffee cooked too long in the aluminum percolator.  The smell of woods in the morning, and dust kicked up by young boys doing what young boys do on a camping trip.

Once the trailer was set up, I backtracked into Frenchglen for ice.  Upon entering the store, I encountered a guy about my age, all sweaty, and at his feet a backpack.  I asked for the ice, and picked a six-pack of beer out of the cooler.  While I was getting the beer, the backpack guy asked me if I happened to be going back to Page Springs Campground.  Yes, I was.  He asked for a lift, and when I agreed he offered to pay for the ice.  It turns out that he and a couple of friends had hiked up the Blitzen River the day before and fished, camping on the river through the night. The next morning, this gentleman decided to work his way downstream while his buddies went up.  By 3PM (90+ degrees), he found himself at Frenchglen wanting a ride back to the campground.  I was happy to oblige.

Tomorrow, up to the top of Steen's Mountain.

To Steen's Mountain - Day 1

8:06 PM, Lake Chickahominy, Oregon, September 4

How remarkable it is to sit in dry, brown central Oregon and watch the sun set ruby red over a lake.  As the red fades to a soft orange, the coyotes start their evening song, only to be interrupted by flight after flight of Canada geese seeking a resting place for the night.  It's so quiet here that you can hear the sound of the heavy goose bodies hitting the water, creating almost a roar of waves.

Birds are a vocal lot.  Tonight, sandpipers warble to one another, geese keep up their constant conversation, but the ducks have gone strangely quiet. Maybe, like me, their attention is drawn to stars and planets as they emerge from overhead gray, the Big Dipper coming visible.

I'm on my way to Steen's Mountain, a place where I've spent little time and a place I want to get to know better.  The first night's journey has brought me to Lake Chickahominy, a reservoir which is fed, appropriately enough, by Chickahominy Creek.  If you check your map, this place is about smack in the middle of Oregon, and only 5.6 miles from Riley.  Riley, Oregon is a one-building town, home to the "Riley Store and Archery".  The store is something of an oasis in these parts, as it's another 30-some odd miles to Baker to the east, a little further to Wagontire to the south, and even further back west to Hamilton, which wouldn't do you any good as there isn't anything there any more.  If there ever was.

My little pop-up is parked in a campground on Lake Chickahominy, and it must be noted that for the very first time in my life I entered a vault toilet here that was clean and actually smelled good, sort of a minty, chewing gum kind of smell. Remarkable.

The lake must be good fishing, for whoever established this campground (only $5/night, many of the sites on the water) built a fish-cleaning station, which, it must be said, is closed, perhaps for the season.

I had forgotten how quiet in can be in central Oregon.  This campground is far enough from Highway 20 that car traffic doesn't impose much, and there is so little of it that there are long patches of only the sounds of nature.  Here, that's the breeze, the birds, and coyotes when they can get a word in edgewise.

Tomorrow, a quick stop in Burns, then south to Frenchglen.

Guns, Guns, Guns

I grew up (this is where I insert my bona fides) in North Central Idaho, where everybody had a gun or two or three.  My dad took me hunting (a futile act as I was blind as a bat and couldn't see anything to shoot at). I personally had a rifle and/or handgun in the house much of time time as a young man, but at some point in my mid-thirties I gave my last weapon away, and haven't had one since.

This morning over breakfast and USA Today I read a disturbing column written by Stefani Carter, a GOP state representative from Texas.  In a rather transparent attempt to show that the GOP is welcoming to women and particularly women of color, Representative Carter wrote that the good news is that black women are the fastest growing demographic in the fair state of Texas of those seeking a permit to carry a concealed weapon.

In short (according to Carter) black women in Texas are arming themselves because in 2009 in the United States nearly 2 1/2 times as many black women were killed as white women.  And, more than 90% of those women knew their assailant. Representative Carter goes on to say that, "Nationally, GOP women, 30 to 44 years old, and who live in rural areas, are the fastest-growing group of gun owners."

Stafani Carter belongs to that group of people who seem to believe that we all need to be armed all the time - that the world is a very dangerous place and the only way to make it safer is to pass laws that give you the right to shoot whomever you think might be a threat.

When I look at her arguments, particularly those surrounding women of color, I wonder at the outcome of arming everyone.  Since more than 90% of black women knew their assailant, it likely means that when armed, they'll be shooting their husbands, fathers, brothers and sons. Hmmm.  That doesn't seem like a useful outcome.

Which brought me to the question of how many personal weapons are floating around in the US?  According to the Small Arms Survey, 89 out of every 100 persons in the United States is armed today.  We're packing around 270,000,000 weapons in this country.  The next most highly armed country in the world is Yemen with 55 guns per 100 people.  Following them is Switzerland and Finland, with about 45/100.  Our Canadian friends have about 31/100, and south of the border in Mexico, about 15 guns per 100 people.  In our old cold war enemy Russia, about 9 out of a hundred own a gun, while across the pond the good folks in England and Wales carry about 6 guns per 100 people.

Clearly, we're the most heavily armed population in the world.  Do we feel safer?  Apparently not.  We're more afraid than ever before, and the GOP and NRA want to make sure we have enough guns to protect ourselves.

Yesterday, Terrance Taylor walked into a New Jersey grocery store and shot two co-workers before killing himself.  I suppose that had his co-workers been armed at the time, they might have killed him first.  Assuming that they were at least as good a shots as the highly trained New York City police officers who accidentally wounded nine innocent bystanders while trying to take out one shooter, the the store clerks probably wouldn't have killed more than 10 or 20 other people.  Of course, if those 10 or 20 had also been armed...

See, the thing is that about 30,000 people in the United States die every year of gunshot wounds.  Will giving everyone a gun make that go up or down?

Personally, I don't want everybody to have a gun.  Human beings are not universally qualified to carry weapons.  I don't see it as a right, God-given or otherwise.  I think you need to prove you're qualified to carry, and must receive a psychological evaluation that somehow disproves that you're the kind of guy that wants to kill all his co-workers, or everybody he sees in the next 10 minutes, or a bunch of Sikhs because he mixed them up with a bunch of Muslims, or people that go to Batman movies.  Once your brains are cleared, then you should get some training on how to be responsible with a weapon.  Then you can carry.

Better yet, we should all receive some training on how we really don't need to be afraid of everyone that's different than we are.  The Earth is a planet of xenophobes - one characteristic we could do without.