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The Prescription
Our recent trips have been into Nevada. Gas is one dollar cheaper per gallon in Nevada than here at home. Research showed that gas prices in nearby Oregon averaged twenty cents a gallon less than Nevada. How about exploring eastern Oregon? We’ve wanted to visit many of the Wilderness areas that cap several of the mountain ranges. It was time because the Lady had a prescription from our primary care doctor.
Her symptoms mimicked a drop in iron. Years ago, she had a mysterious leak – drip, drip, drip – that slowly led to serious anemia that could have led to death. We’ve learned to watch for the signs. Was the leak back? It’s best to be sure – a morning call to the doc, an immediate blood test, she was seeing the doc mid afternoon. I awaited her return home.
“My blood’s fine. Iron levels are perfect. No need to return to taking supplemental iron.” The Lady reported.
“Then what’s up?” I asked.
“Doc and I had a talk,” the Lady explained. “We talked about the world. There’s a major war in Europe, something we never thought we’d see again. Treason at the highest level in our country has gone unpunished. The recent Supreme Court rulings. School children continue to be shot to death in their classrooms. I was a teacher. And, we could lose all we have in a wildfire at any time. It all adds up.”
“It indeed does.” I agreed.
“I asked the doc if this was anxiety from the continued stress. He said it could be – everything else is good - so he gave me a prescription.”
“Pills?” I immediately asked.
“Of course not. Doc knows better than throwing pills at us. He said the two of us have a wonderful life. Enjoy it. He gave me a prescription to take off and go camping. Take deep breaths. Don’t look at the price of gas. Get back out of cell service to the places we love. I’m packing the truck.”
I suggested Oregon as a destination. I was curious though, so I asked, “Does Doc have any hope for the world and our country?”
“Doc says his hope is that by the time it gets really really shitty, we’ll all be dead and won’t have to see it.”
“Let’s fill that prescription,” I said and smiled. “Load the truck!”
The prescription took us north up 395. Our first night was spent at a USFS campground along 395 between Burns and John Day. A long evening walk took us through the juniper and pine and sage edged meadows. We delighted in the growing number of nighthawks overhead, diving and feasting on flying insects. The male nighthawk makes a buzzing/booming sound by flexing his wings in a dive. We fell asleep with the buzz of nighthawks.
Mid morning the next day we arrived at our first place for exploration.......
....on the edge of the Strawberry Mountain Wilderness.
It is a small, older, primitive campground at the end of a steep drive up the canyon on a bumpy road. We were at home. It is a popular place because a beautiful alpine lake is a little over a mile up inside the Wilderness area.
We walked up to the lake after lunch, circled it, and got acquainted with the landscape and the critters.
We let our friends, Mr. Sage and his Bride, know we’d be staying a few nights at Strawberry Campground. It was less than two hours from their home and they asked if they could join us. It would be a pleasure. They arrived in the afternoon and set up in a level site next to us. Soon the table was covered with fresh vegetables with hummus dip. The Lady made guacamole and brought out Late July tortilla chips – another of Doc’s prescriptions. It was meant to be only a snack. We were all too full for dinner.
I read that Strawberry Lake has brook trout. The next morning the Lady and I headed up for a day of flyfishing. It was blowing with wind driven waves on the lake.
The Lady and I slowly circled the lake. I fought the wind and chop with casts and drifting nymph patterns under an indicator. We hoped the Sages would hike up and join us around midday. We waved as we saw them hiking the shoreline trail with their two bearded hunting dogs. A sheltered cove made a great lunch spot.
I fly fished. The wind was blowing into the cove. I let the wind bounce a scud pattern along the bottom. The first two casts brought up small debris from the bottom. I was getting the fly deep enough. The third cast brought a very subtle take and a fish was on. The Lady was there with the camera and her ghost net.
Thanks again to Mr. Sage for the photo above.
With her see mores, the Lady spotted a mountain goat with a youngster on the cliffs above the Strawberry Basin. We happily passed time watching the two of them; way too far away for any photos. Our friends headed back down to the campground. The Lady and I spent the remainder of the afternoon slowly circling the lake.
The next morning the Lady and I headed up to the summit of Strawberry Mountain. We quickly reached Strawberry Lake and continued up.
We were surprised only one backpacking camp was set up at the lake. The Lady spied.
Above the lake the trail climbs up canyon along the creek in dense lodgepoles. Downed logs across the trail had been recently cut out.
The grandeur of Strawberry Falls was a wonderful surprise.
The trail switchbacked up and crossed the creek above the falls and entered the upper basin.
Further on, an opening provided a view down of Strawberry Canyon and Strawberry Lake.
The trail continued up and out of the basin. Trail maintenance had ended at the falls. Areas of blowdowns slowed our progress up.
The trail entered a high cirque before its climb up to the south summit ridge. Here we got our first view of Strawberry Mountain.
The trail was still covered with winter's snow in the cirque. The open areas were wet with flowing water. It was much better to stay on snow as much as possible.
The trail was no longer visible but its placement on the USGS topo map kept us oriented.
It was slow going through the trees. Over the snow was a constant up and down. We also watched for hollows near trees and close to rocks. We finally reached the head of the cirque. Our way up was blocked by steep snow, much of the overhanging cornice was still intact. The last 25 feet or so of the climb would be near vertical.
If we had our ice axes, we would have continued up. We are experienced mountaineers. We do not do steep snow without axes. (We always remember Lou Whittaker’s noteworthy saying – “There are old mountaineers and there are bold mountaineers, but there are no old bold mountaineers.”) We were also close to our turnaround time. We’d stop here and enjoy a long relaxing break. We had seen no one else on the trail all day thus far. We watched as a C17 approached for refueling in the sky above.
After a refreshing full dose of high mountain solitude, we headed back down.
The Lady wanted us to take our time and see if we could locate the exact route of the trail on our way down. The evidence to follow was very old hatchet cut blazes on trees. Following the trail took us to the remains of a small cabin.
Travel on snow was better than marring sloppy wet meadows and
getting our boots sucked off. But, two hours later than our arrival up here,
the snow surface was a layer of slippery slush. We moved carefully.
We stopped and took in a last look at Strawberry Mountain. I wondered how I could arrange another summit bid for the Lady on this trip. She likes being on top.
We enjoyed another evening with our friends. The Bride and the Lady played Scramble. Boy, those two love Scramble!
We said goodbye to our friends early the next morning. They were returning home to Baker City. We were heading further to the northeast and into one of Oregon’s premier Wilderness areas.
Our story continues. Please click here for - Part Two.
Nice trip! I spent three weeks in that area during the Canyon Creek Fire in 2015. the lake was one of the few places that did not burn - lot's of helicopter work and crews to contain some of the spot fires that were in the upper basin. Need to go back
ReplyDeleteThanks for the nice comment and thanks for all your efforts working on fire teams!
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