The end was nigh. We were all a little bit road weary, and there was a bit of a mini-mutiny when everyone saw looked ahead at this day’s agenda: a visit to Oregon Caves in the middle of a 5 hour drive. Everyone voted against the caves. Me too, actually. So I guess it wasn’t really a mutiny. I’d heard that they are fantastic, but we’ve been in 2 caves already this trip, so we figured we could forgive ourselves if we skipped it in favor of all getting a little extra sleep after the extended day it took to finish the last of the coastline.
We didn’t pull out until 10am, which used up only half of our spelunking time and set us up for a leisurely evening arrival in Northern Oregon around a comfortable 6pm. As I was packing up, a white and orange cat with a collar came to visit me. He let me pet him and went on his way, safely back into his owner’s RV, which was also pulling out this morning. It reminded us that our own cat would not be waiting for us when we got home; he’d fail to return from one of his nightly jaunts about a week after we left. Such are the dangers for creatures his size in the woods behind our house. Awe.
Sad as we were, it wasn’t hampering our vacation, though. We were relaxed and we were on our 26th day in a row of near-perfect weather. It was mild and clear, and the next 350 miles were to be straightforward. Mom was asking to stop and cook lunch somewhere, but I was pushing for another in-motion meal to maximize the evening time instead. We ended up enjoying the last California miles so much that when we spotted a rest area just before a tunnel, we decided to pull in. Mom put the awning out, and I set up the grill right there in the parking lot. I cooked some hamburgers and hot dogs, and we put our feet up for a few minutes, quite satisfied with ourselves.
The “North Fork Smith River” had put us in a great mood. Follow it through the mountain canyon, the turns weren’t as severe, and the view of the river and quiet pass through the mountains was, of course, quite beautiful. The river ran so calm and clear across the rounded rocks 30-40 feet below the level of the road that, at one point early in our trip, it looked too inviting to keep driving past. I found a bigger turnout that I could use to reverse direction without blocking the travel lanes for too long, and made my way back to one turnout which looked like we could climb down the ledge. I put my bathing suit on and scrambled down right away, Sean right behind me. Mom followed a little more tentatively, but JT was quite hesitant. It was steep enough, and far enough, that he worried about being able to get back up. The ledge was covered in cement, though, holding the road bed in place, which made for a pretty “grippy” surface. I promised him I’d carry him back up if it became necessary, but I really felt like he ought to come down and at least touch the crystal clear and so fresh water. He agreed, but insisted he wasn’t going in or getting his hair wet. I was determined to go in, myself, though, and it couldn’t have been more fantastic. As I suspected, the river bottom, even though it looked to be about a foot deep, was more like 5 feet deep. If you’d dropped a newspaper to the bottom of the river, you could have read every word without getting wet.
The water was so inviting, not one of us could resist. The boys, especially, didn’t even want to leave. In fact, between that swim and the picnic, it was about 2pm before we were welcomed into Oregon, instead of 10:30 – 11am like we’d thought when we left the campground.
There was one important stop we needed to make before we got too much farther into the rainier Northwest: a stop at an RV/camping store outside of Eugene. With the tight squeeze among the bushes & trees at cousin Aaron’s, a branch had caught one of our open roof vents and cracked the thin plastic. Highway speeds had torn it apart, and now we’d be exposed if it rained. I plugged the address into the GPS and found that we’d arrive about 45 minutes before closing time. In no time, we had the part and had climbed on the roof and swapped the two screws necessary to get it replaced. In the mean time, Mom had found a replacement latch that would stop the hydraulic levels from periodically flipping open the television to the shelving behind. That was a minor annoyance we’d been dealing with or a while. At least many RV parts are pretty standard, apparently.
We rolled into the RV park around 8pm. Just as we pulled in, a couple spotted our Alaska license plate (because the RV is registered jointly with my mother) and asked where exactly we were from. It turns out the man grew up in Chugiak, but he doesn’t know Cousin Brad. He lives in Wyoming, now; not sure when he left. Anyway, they were a nice couple, and they shared some of their black raspberries with us. They grow wild and as plentiful as weeds in that area, apparently, and this was their third full bucket of the day. We’d seen them in California, too. These were delicious.
When it got dark, the two rows of trees flanking the one road of vintage trailers on the East side of the park lit up with Christmas-like white lights. It was apparent that the trailers are permanently parked there, each with a pair of bicycles and a gas grill out front. Seeing them at night like that, Mom wondered if she’d seen the campground on a TV show at some point in time. Since there was some confusion about my bill, the owner called me after we’d left the next day, and I asked her if the park was ever on a TV show, and she said it had been on several. Cool!
