Paul & Ruby Tuggle’s Short Trips 1975-79

from the diary of Ruby Tuggle

September 13, 1975 – Saturday: McMinnville 3:30 P.M. This is mountain weather – Hot and sunny. School has started and hunting season hasn’t. Paul invested in a fishing license, packed his gear while I hurridly gathered together the necessities for the camper. Don’t know where we’ll go or how long we’ll stay except that I must be home before September 25th for a lip-reading work shop with Sylvia Tweedle. I really didn’t expect to leave until tomorrow, but both of us have itchy feet. Dunlap lake hasn’t been “skinny dipped” by us all summer. We can neglect that no longer. Pete and Linda weren’t home. We left a note in their front door and swiped a near-ripe tomato from their patch. Stopped for salmon eggs at K-Mart. Drove directly to Dunlap and found lots of dust but no people. Just one little black dog. Wonder if he is lost. Seemed scared and ran away as we drove in. Looks as though lots of people have used the area this summer. I fixed soup while Paul made a campfire. We enjoyed both. Have a moon. Water is placid, mirroring trees and sky.

September 14, 1975 – Sunday – Dunlap Lake: Visitors this morning but none stay long. Fixed toast and eggs and applesauce, then hike for huckleberries. Found about 1/2 cup full, but that didn’t matter. Our climb was worth the effort. We saw a Coney in the rocks, and, as always, the lovely woods and lake. Back in camp, cold watermelon really tasted good. we let it settle, then peeled off and went for a swim. Water is cold, but with my poor sense of balance I usually go in pretty fast. I played around with the air mattress until Paul got his goosepimples under control, then headed out across the lake. How wonderful to feel the cool water glide around us as we move along! Oh, we really don’t “skinny-dip” – might get caught. Paul even had his tennis shoes on. Over to the logs, rest awhile, then back. Paul pushed the air mattress and I swam. He had the most work. No salamanders (water-dogs) this year, just crawdada. Chipmunks seem to be surviving very well. Noticed a missile-shaped installation placed by “State Engineer” – seems to be some sort of guage – maybe for snow depth. Near the summit a few clouds moved in and there was some heat lightening. Paul could hear thunder. The forest ranger stopped by, asked if we planned to stay long. Said a few lightning fires had been reported, one about ten miles from here. Warned us to be careful with fire. So we keep our campfire burning low. Someone who knew how built a good fireplace up on the hill above our old camp spot. e appreciate it.

September 15, 1975 – Monday: Leaving Dunlap early. Breakfast at Detroit. Not the best we ever had, but we are hungry enough to enjoy it. No clouds. Just sun. I couldn’t resist one brief dip in Dunlap before we left – a skinny one this morning. No one saw me. I thought the water would seem warm, but it wasn’t and Paul didn’t get anything wet but his finger-tips. Beautiful drive through the mountains. Lots of log trucks on the move. Patches of cut timber checker the mountains, but we believe it is a healthy way to harvest an important crop. We found our favorite camp site on the lower Metolius river unoccupied. Paul can see fish swimming by and is frustrated because they ignore his bait. We hiked to a meadow and caught grass-hoppers hoping the fish would like them. they didn’t, but he finally snagged two German Browns on worms and I fried them for supper. I was too tired to want to sit by the campfire tonight. We went early to bed. I can’t hear the river and trees talking to me like once I did, but I do hear enough to bring back memories. It is a better sound than the freeway.

September 16, 1975 – Tuesday – Lower Metolius: Yesterday was a fly- swatting still day. this morning there is a little breeze and it is cooler, but still sunny-warm. Some one in the woods fired three rifle shots. Seemed to come from the Warm Springs Indian side of the river. After breakfast we hiked about three miles down stream, much of the time on the road, but saw no one at all. Lots of animal tracks in the dusty places. chipmunk, deer, and even bear in one spot. Also people and dog tracks but not many. Road is in pretty good shape and looks much traveled. Tired when we get back. Cold beer sure good. Yesterday Paul had to overhaul the water pump. Everything working well today. He fished while I tempted a chipmunk onto my knees with bread crumbs. Took several pictures with my instamatic camera. Sure hope they are good. He posed so nicely for me. Didn’t even get alarmed by the camera click. Oh, and Paul caught two more fish, a German Brown and a White fish. the Brown would barely fit in the skillet and made a tasty meal for us, but the White fish wasn’t much. We ate it anyhow. I baked a “huckleberry surprise” with our hand full of Dunlap huckleberries. After dishes were done we sat long and late beside a toasty campfire until the moon found the water and we were very sleepy. the clouds at sunset made unusual and interesting patterns. But they melted before the moon was high. We are only a step from the cold rushing water. Paul says it doesn’t seem to have a deep belly rumble here. I wonder if he hates to reming me of what I miss by not hearing it all. I do hear the swish as it washes over rocks.

September 17, 1975 – Wednesday – 8:00 A.M.- Temperature 38 degrees: We need a bath and this water makes Dunlap seem like a hot spring. At 9:00 A.M. we head for Bend KOA. Felt great to shower and shampoo. Always in our camper we have noticed an unpleasant odor. Paul suspects a gas leak. And so this day was gone by the time Paul took the stove apart and – we think – found the leak, a goofed up connection. with improvised tools he reworked it and put the stove back together in time for us to head for town for a late supper at Elmer’s. I had scallops – just so-so. And Paul ate German food which he liked. Had a different set of waitresses here this time. Not what we had expected, but adequate. I guess. Drove to the top of Pilot Butte and watched the moon light the mountains. this weather is the answer to our prayers. Saw the new St. Charles hospital below.

September 18, 1975 – thursday – Bend-KOA: Well, the refrig didn’t freeze for awhile – probably parked unlevel on the Metolius – the stove had a leak. The water pump had to be overhauled, and this morning the water tank bulged. Wonder what brand of scotch tape they used on this camper. We ate Oregon Blentz at Elmer’s – bought a few groceries at Safeway, then headed south. Stopped at Lava Lands museum, saw the diaramas, then walked the nature trails. Interesting. Drove to the top of Lava Butte and looked around. Perfect weather for it. Decided to go to Paulina and East Lake just for the scenery. Was well worth it. Walked the obsidian nature trail nearby. Not many people around. Water on both lakes calm. Ate lunch here. this is a day when you can “see forever” and wish the day could last that long. We had planned to camp on Wickiup where Joe told Paul the fishing was good and how to “bank fish.” We followed pavement all the way, but, boy! the campgrounds! Ankle deep in dust. We stopped at several places including Twin Lakes but couldn’t abide the dirt. The view across Crane Prairie was almost worth staying for but Paul said he’d rather have a clean camp than a mess of fish. We remembered a good camp spot at Deschutes Bridge and headed for it. got there in late afternoon. No dust, no fish, and ponly two other campers. Really enjoyed our tucked away campsite. Not much fire wood. Small trees, lodgepole. Lots of Canada Jays willing to take bread our of your hand – or mouth, I guess. Anyhow I hand fed them while Paul searched for wood. We wound up burning newspaper “logs” and watching the moon creep through the pines. No wind.

September 19, 1975 – Friday – Deschutes Bridge: Last night was our coldest so far. At 7:00 A.M. the outside temperature registered 26 degrees. We slept snug enough and our heater kept us comfortable through breakfast. Paul felt more like “toast and Eggs” than cold corn flakes this morning. About 10:00 o’clock we headed north on what we still call Century Drive but is officially Cascade Lakes Highway, I guess. Anyhow, by any name it is one of the most beautiful spots on earth and we love it. We prowled Lava Lake where the dock reaches out into the water and Paul can look for fish but not drop a line. Saw lots of little ones. At the south end of Elk Lake we walked around the beach where picnickers and swimmers have it to themselves. But none are here today. Campgrounds were also deserted. We could have had our pick at $2.00 further toward the resort area. Good roads and clean grounds. We paused at Fall Creek, tossed a few pumice stones to see them float, then went to Sparks Lake. At the boat launch area we found three travel trailers which were in the parking lot, and only one good camp spot which we promptly took. A lava flow dammed the lake here. From the highway one would never guess the rugged beauty and wierd formations around this part of Sparks. Paul could see a whole school of fish in the clear water. Fly fishing only and he brought just one fly! He got no attention from the fish. I explored the rocks, then came back and got him to go with me. We found the going rough – big cracks in the rock flow – hidden coves that just begged you to “skinny- dip” in the beautiful clear water. Would have been a bit cold today but on a sunny August day it might be really perfect. Anyhow we didn’t “Eve-dip” a toe. Saw lots of spots where soneone had camped. Mostly clean, but one had an old bed spring. Guess that one must have stayed awhile. Geese were on the lake and flew over honking their way from here to somewhere. We beat our way through the brush and over the rocks for awhile, then decided the only way to explore this lake is by boat. Several are doing that, and one – “Henry” – brought in a fine string of fish. He has a trailer, a dog, and a young friend here. An “Easy Hensen” type of guy. Some young folks in canoes left the boat ramp about dark and we envied them. Bit they occupied one of those coves tonight. And what a night it must be with the full moon on the water! A young couple from Bend fished for the same school of fish Paul tried to lure and with the same luck. Girl was recently from Coos Bay – a very nice pair of kids. Boy gave Paul two or three of his flies and wished him luck. We fed the chipmunks and Jays which are unafraid here, had our campfire, each other, and a huge moon. Life is wonderful. Washed away the afternoon sweat and grime and crawled into bed.

September 20, 1975 – Sunday – Sparks Lake: Paul tried his flies but no action from the fish. Wonder what a spinner would do? At 10:30 we gave up fishing and headed for Green Lakes. I had a lunch packed and off we went. An exhileration and almost unreal quality to this day. Air so crisp it almost lifts you out of yourself. The trail seems effortless as we walk beside this tumbling, roaring, beautiful stream. We knew we would make it all the way to the lakes this time. The sky was cloudless. The temperature perfect. Of course that last mile was long and uphill and we rested often. No fires allowed one mile from the lake. Extreme fire danger now. Also need a permit to enter the Sisters Wilderness area – a form to fill out as you start up the trail. Not a lot of people were traveling the trail today and the trail is in pretty good shape. No trash or litter at all. On the last lap before we reached the lake the wind told us we were almost there. It felt good but it was cool. Too cool at night, perhaps. A few young people werfe camped, some we saw on he mountain. Two young girls overtook us on the trail – just hiking in and out as we were only faster. At the lake we took pictures but the wind was too raw for us to sit and eat our lunch. We looked around, visited with a couple who came in from Ditch Cabin and were going to climb tomorrow, then headed down the trail. Took us about an hour to get to a good “babbly-brook” lunch stop and were we ready for it! Feet hurting and stomachs empty. But we feel great after a few minutes rest and once more head down the trail. At 3:45 we climbed into our truck and welcomed a ride to KOA. Bathed and went to Sambo’s where we got a really good steak dinner, then ice cream cones at Dairy Queen, looked at that big old moon and thought how glorius it must look reflected on Green Lakes tonight! Oh to be young and strong enough to be there, to climb that mountain, but also, isn’t it a blessing to live sixty-odd years and still have such foolish dreams?

Septemvber 21, 1975– Sunday – Bend: Slept well and feel fine except a few squalling muscles in my ankles and feert. Paul has none, he says. Tried Sambo’s for breakfast but the waiting line was long. went to Elmers – not as long a line. Got good blintz. Wanted to see new St. Charles Hospital and found ourselves in a line of ambulances transferring patients from the old to the new. Didn’t drive into the grounds as we didn’t want to get in the way. Sure a pretty structure with a view from every room, they say. Got a few groceries then headed homeward. Bridge between Sisters and Indian Ford is being replaced so we didn’t go by the “ranch” this time. Sisters is sure changing – making new fronts on old buildings – rather artificial looking but at least it is more tidy than it used to be. Trying to be a “Western” town. Still beautiful as we drive through the mountains. Little snow on the peaks now and the foliage hasn’t turned color. Stopped at Hoover Camp on Blow out Road. Paul fished the Santiam, got a small one and shared it with a scroungy old yellow tom-cat who tried to adopt us. Lots of drift-wood to feed evening campfire. Paul remembered marsh- mallows in Bend so tonight we toast them. Paul whittled me out a walking stick. Helps me keep my balance.

Setember 22, 1975 – Monday: More fishing, no fish – home about 4:00 P.M. via Wheatland Ferry.


November 6, 1976
– McMinnville: This morning we drove to Salem to get a firedoor for Joe’s parts room. Paul said. “I feel like I’d like to just keep on going.” But our errand done, he headed back to Sheridan and I settled down to sew on shirts for Greg’s kids – I’m using the outing flannel lining to our old sleeping bag for the shirts. Within two hours Paul was back. “We’re going to bend,” he said. It took me a couple of minutes to finish the seam I was sewing and maybe 15 minutes to throw together the few things we might need for our trip, slip a note to Margaret under her door, and climb into the 4-wheel drive rig. Over the ferry and thru the mountains. Smoke hangs low beneath an upper layer of warm air that has held the valley under a pollution alert for days. Water behind Detroit Dam is about as low as we’ve ever seen it. Little snow in the mountains, but lots of color in the trees. No glow to them today. Need sun for that. Saw a deer that had been hit by a car just beyond Suttle Lake. Paul has been driving on the edge of his seat for fear of hitting one. Fog pretty bad at the pass, too. thought about stopping at the Emporium, in Tumalo, for dinner but the Hostess told us we’d have at least a two-hour wait. Glad we were turned away. Had a wonderful steak dinner at Sambo’s – twice now. the guy that runs this Sambo must be on the ball. Good food, good service. No vacancy signs all over give us a moment of wonder until we check in at Maverick Motel and see on TV – WELCOME ELKS CONVENTION. No wind and the temperature is 39 degrees so it seems quite warm. It is for this time of year, and skiers are unhappy. In the valley we’ve had no frost at all.

November 7, 1976
– Sunday – Bend: Blintz at Elmers wasn’t up to snuff. After breakfast we drove to Lava Lands and walked the lave trail. Frost from last night had melted but the wind didn’t kknow it. It still carried a bite of ice. Back in Bend we found the high school where Swine-Flu shots were being given and we got ours. Decided to take the back road to Sisters. Had forgotten which road went to the town of Tumalo, and instead got on road to Tumalo Falls. Soon ran out of pavement, but cinders were good and we kept going. Bunch of 4-wheelers had congregated and soon were coming upon us from behind. We’d been paking along, looking out from the ridge above Tumalo Falls. road to Tumalo Falls itself was closed. Soon came to intersection where one road took off – a narrow dirt road – to Sisters. After following it awhile we meet a pick-up at a spot too narrow to cross paths. We backed to a better spot and asked where this road went. “To a ski area, – not Sisters,” they said. We couldn’t imagine such a road jto a ski area, never dreaming until later they meant Bachelor Butte. We decided to turn back. Had thought the 4- wheelers went on the cinder-top road at the forks, but, No! They had gone our way and now 3 cars were trying to go one way and about 6 4- wheelers the other. Finally managed to get off the road and unscramble the traffic jam in the wilderness. Drove back to cinder-top and followed it a little over 3 miles to its end. Found where cinders were being taken from a butte for road work about where the road stops. May explain its reason for being the good road it is. Looking over the deep valley below we could see a body of water, a resevoir we remembered from a trip we once took over the road we should have been on today. Decided to go back and try once more that road we turned back from with the sign which said “SISTERS” on it. We knew we were trailing the 4-wheelers by the litter and the skid marks as well as the off-road tire marks in this area where driving off the road is forbidden, according to posted signs along the way. Finally dawned on us we’d end up at Three Creeks and that the couple we talked to had come by Todd Lake. We enjoyed the beauty of the moment all day, not really caring one bit just where we were or where we’d wind up. The road got rougher and the country more beautiful as we climbed toward the high country of the Sisters – Broken Top – Tam MacArthur Rim. We finally reached beautiful Three Creeks Lake, took a couple of pictures just as the fleet of 4- wheelers buzzed by. Then we drove the very good road to Sisters, got a hamburger at the Gallery Cafe where one of Ray Eyerly’s new pictures now hangs among others. Originals, we’re told by the waitress, now sell for $17,000.00 on up. the new one is a lovely view of the Sisters (mountains) with spring flowers and a lake – Three Creeks maybe, though not realistic. the mountains, though, are unmistakable. He’s a realist. Took some pictures of Llama’s which were grazing in the meadow west of Sisters, then out past the air strip where we watched gliders towed, then released to land on their own. Talked to a fellow who was getting ready to load a glider in a trailer. This answered a riddle we’d puzzled since our trip with Henryetta and George where we saw in Texas a similar trailer and couldn’t figure out what it was. Drove by our property. It looks fine – no paths this time. Lots of for sale signs on lots and lots of new houses going up. Believe our doctor friend has sold his place. Got in line and drove home with the traffic.


Central Oregon Trip with Carol

June 7. 1977 – McMinnville: We loaded the camper with what we hoped was needed. Yesterday, Carol bought hiking boots and her heart is set on breaking them in on the Green Lakes Trail. The sun is smiling but the weatherman says “Thunderstorms in the Cascades.” So our fingers are crossed. We headed out in mid-morning, had a short delay for roadwork on the North Santiam highway, found our favorite ice cream and hamburger Gingerbread House closed on Tuesday, got our lunch at Swiss Village. Food was good. Couldn’t see more than a handkershief of Mt. Jefferson, but the lake was almost full and the river running high with snow melt. Not nearly enough snow left to keep it that way all summer, though. Rhododendrons are beautiful along the highway. Couldn’t see any of the sentinel peaks in their entirety but can catch a glimpse now and then. In Sisters we had an ice cream cone and got maps from the forest service. Rain began to come down and the smell of Juniper was heavy in the air. At Bend we stopped at KOA, got our No. 48 spot which we like, then went to town to buy tennis shoes for Carol. She also got Sylvia Porter’s “Money Book” to send to Rick along with a sample of the subject matter for his wedding gift. Had fried chicken (home cooked before we left) for supper and listened to the rain patter on the roof. We’re not too hopeful now for hiking weather tomorrow.

June 8, 1977 – Wednesday – Bend: A few clouds hung around the mountains, but after breakfast we could see the Three Sisters. We drove to the Green Lakes trail head. A ranger there told us he had not been over the trail but it was at least partially clear of snow. We parked on the east side of Fall creek – no camping in this area – and walked across a foot bridge – new since our last visit. I packed sandwiches and Carol put on her new boots. Weather was perfect. Lots of water tumbled over the falls. Soon we came to snow drifts on the trail, melted and re-thawed to a glace around the edges. I promptly took a spill which did no real damage burt which was painful. By the time we reached the turn-off to Moraine Lake we were mostly trudging through snow which often gave way and we sank knee deep. My shoes had no tread and with my poor balance I was down more than up, it seemed. But the brilliant blue of sky, green trees and white snow lured us on. Snow had partly melted from the first bridge which we crossed. Not many people have been up here as trails are hard to follow. Blaze marks are few and mostly we follow the creek and our memory, both of which are fickle. After the second bridge, which we easily found, snow was deeper, the trail more obscure. One yound man was traveling the trail as we were and we sometime passed him as he rested and we were sometimes resting when he overtook us. We followed one another’s tracks, never knowing where the trail actually was. We rested often, of necessity in the deep snow. We must have been less than a mile – maybe less than half a mile of Green Lakes – when we stopped for lunch, glad we packed an extra sandwich. I was pretty tired and muscles were getting some for all of us. We decided to turn back here. Going out we met four people, making five in all we saw on the trail today. the mountains are not nearly as snowy as they should be. Streams seem full now, but for how long? We rested briefly, changed our snow-soaked shoes and socks, then headed for the campground at Elk Lake. Road work is underway here. Hope we never see a pumice truck using it. But who knows? We had our pick of camp spots – everything clean and inviting, but only a couple or so of campers in the entire area. Water in the lake is extremely low. Saw a few saail boars but not much activity. Early to bed – tired and sunburned.

June 9, 1977 – Thursday – Elk Lake: Sunburn radiantly painful this morning. All of us got it but I got it worst. Chipmunks soon came to call and it was a three-ring circus watching them scamper and chase one another, competing for bread crumbs. Carol sat on a boulder and tempted them to come near her while Paul snapped pictures. Birds, too, wanted a share. We went to the Osprey sanctuary and breeding grounds on Crane Prairie where we saw many birds including the nesting Osprey. Lunch time found us at La Pine. We had lunch in a cafe there, then drove to Paulina Falls, then to the obsidian flow where we hiked obsidian trail. Carol has been picking up pieces of Oregon ever since we left McMinnville. She’s so loaded down with pumice, lave, obsidian, and just plain “rock-rocks!” I tell her she can’t come to Oregon as often as she wants so she is taking Oregon home with her. We stopped briefly at East Lake – lots of people, lots of boats, and too much wind. Campground full, the sign says. We came back to Land of Lakes Campground where the lake road meets highway 97. Beautiful view of the Three Sisters, Broken Top, and Bachelor. (And sounds of traffid, too). Saw a mountain Blue bird and a barn swallow here. Have also seen many other birds today. Nesting time and they are making their presence known.

June 10, 1977 – Friday – Land of Lakes Campground – on Highway 97: Another beautiful day has dawned. Early this morning Paul poked me and pointed to a waning moon in the eastern sky. Soon the sky paled and we knew it was almost dawn. Carol says she slept warm – all but her nose. Now accustomed to warm air day and night whe cann’t get used to cold mornings. She turned on the heater to warm her nose! We had breakfast in the camper, then drove a short way to the turn-off – Sun River one way – which we toured very briefly, then toward Lava Cast Forest to the east. the road was being graded and was dusty. the visitor’s parking area had also been enlarged and re- arranged, and a black-top trail winds for nearly a mile through the lava fields. It took us into areas we had not seen before, very beautiful and well marked with a self-guided tour. We’ve learned quite a bit this trip about the source of this lava (Newberry Crater) and the formation of these tree casts. Had rare view of the Cascades. Sure lucky to have ideal weather, too early for most of the `skeeters – though we’ve seen a few – and not yet time for the summer crowds. Drove next to Lava Lands Museum. Ate too many hot dogs and too much cheese. Had a bit of trouble pushing lunch around the short trail hike into the aa and pa-hoe-hoe lava flow from Lava Butte. Chipmuncs really busy today. On the parking lot the little thieves were trying to get into cars and campers. they are so fat they must spread their legs and fly their tail high as they scamper for safety. Even on the lava they seem to occupy ever nook. One stationed himself atop a high, wierdly-shaped dead snag, claiming for himself, no doubt, all this territory for himself, no doubt, all the territory he surveyed. Even on top of Lava Butte the chipmunks begged. But here the Oregon (Canada?) jays, or, as we call then, “Camp Robbers,” competed with them for crumbs and peanuts tossed by tourists. Clouds, now, were gathering over the Cascades. But it stayed warm, and when we got to Bend we sat outside the camper at KOA, sipping beer in tune with Highway 97 symphony. We had good steak at Sambos’ then a refreshing shower at KOA, and to bed.



October 10, 1978 – Early this morning we headed for Seattle to the King Tut exhibit. Hit the 7-8 A.M. traffic in Portland. Stopped at Elmers’ in Vancouver for Blintz. The building is being remodeled but the blintz are as always – good. Sunshine was blessing Oregon as we left, but before we reached Seattle it was raining. Stopped and made a reservation for tonight at Rodeway Inn near Tacoma. About noon we found a parking place near Seattle Center, bought our ticket for the exhibit and learned we could enter at about 4:30. Saw several movies while we waited but sound track and acoustics made it impossible for me to follow. Paul didn’t expecially enjoy them either. Ate at foor fair and enjoyed looking at displays, watching people. Rented tapes which I found I could hear as we went through the exhibit. Thought it was exceptionally well done though it would have been more enjoyable if there had been fewer people. Just the realization of what these treasures are and who may have fashioned them is most impressive. But, they are incredibly beautiful even if nothing else. Ate at Denny’s then went to see Gerri and the kids. Really enjoyed our visit with them. Gerri will go to Hawaii next week with her friend from L.A., a salesman who calls on Stan. She seems elated and happy.

October 11, 1978 – Tacoma: Breakfast at the inn, then toward Mr. Rainier Nat. Park. Some sun this morning but sneaky clouds hang around to obscure the high mountains. Thought of Rick and Cathy as we went through Spanaway but didn’t have our address book along. In the park we passed up the only place open at this time of year where we could have eaten. Just not hungry enough to stop. Later we were sorry. We hiked a mile or so up the trail where a mud slide ame down the mountain in 1947 destroying a great segment of forested slopes. New trees are now established but evidence of the slide is abundant. Saw and heard lots of birds. Visited the lovely visitor’s center. Saw a good film, then out of the park via Steven’s Canyon. Fall colors were spotty. Where sun caught hillsides they were fairly good but nothing like some years. Finally out of the park, very hungry, we went over White Pass. Stopped to look into the awesome canyon where waterfalls disappear at depths below. Had a chili-burger – not very good – at Lakeside Cafe – first eating place we came to. Rim Rock Lake. Reached Yakima aabout 5:00 o’clock – went on hoping to find accommodations in Goldendale. Too late, we drove in darkness to Biggs Junction.

October 12, 1978 – Beautiful day and delightful trip home down the Columbia River.

Chemeketa Geology trip

October 18, 1978 – Left McMinnville 7:00 A.M. thinking we had plenty of time to reach Chemeketa by 8:00 A.M. – crossed ferry after long, exasperating wait and arrived at college 15 minutes late. Bus still there because a nearvby fire had caused traffic congestion and bus waited until it cleaned out. We were met by an anxious lady who was over-joyed to see us. “I have two extra box lunches,” she said. “Now we’ll come out just right!” She wrote our name on her tally sheet and as soon as Paul had parked the car halfway ocross campus and jogged back to the bus stop we were off. Never saw such perfect weather. We were21 “students,” the professor, Hook, and bus driver, a wooly-faced, genial young man. Out highway 22 before we reached the intersection with 99W. We stopped while Prof Hook told us that the Eola Hills, which we could see, were part of a lava flow which poured out of the “Dayton, Stayton Crack” which opened up about the same time that the Columbia River basalts (corridor) (?) were pouring out. the Willamette Valley is a large syncline which dips down. the coast range is a geo-anticline which raised up. All was under the sea before deformation changed the land. Near the spot where highway 99W crosses the railroad track oil well drilled over the years show traces of gas and oil, evidence of the old sea bed, but not in commercial amounts. Called Homes Gap, I think he said, Spokane flood filled Willamette Valley with 400 foot-deep lake when ice jam blocked water temporarily near Woodland Washington. This is when the glacial erratics came to the valley – like the one between here and Sheridan on Highway 18. Next stop was near Hebo on highway 22, then through Three Creeks Park. Beautiful little spot but so damp it isn’t used much. Hook has pointed out that steep mountain of the Coast Range are basaltic with little talus due to “drowned(with sand and silt) valleys” formed during melt from last ice age. More gentle hills of the range, he says, are uplifted, sedimentarly rocks. Coast Range is rising at rate of 2 inches every 100 years. Is on American Plate moving WNW – opposite direction from San Andres. Light soil is decomposed from sedimentary rocks, dark soils from magma or volcanics. Much reverse topography is found in Coast Range where valleys filled with lava are now mountains, and hills made up of softer material, eroded to valleys of today. More than 80 percent of Oregon topography is reverse. At Bay Ocean we walked out on the cobbled seaside while Hook explained how the plush resort which had been here washed away in a storm in the 1930’s (exact date ?). Cause was damming of Columbia which altered sand spit at its mouth, and the building of the Tillamook jetty which held back norman pattern of wave action. Lunch stop at Cape Meares State Park and Light House. Here we learned that we were three lunches short. Not before Paul and I had hiked down to the lighthouse, sat on a grassy spot and eaten our bos lunch! Others shared, so I guess no one suffered. Never saw such perfect weather ! Warm, sunny, gentle breeze – sea like glass. Hiked up to look at “Octopus Tree” – a huge spruce with massive limbs growing in every direction. Said to be from winds, but archaeologists say it could have been shaped by early Indian tribes for busial. I find the Indian story most logical and also most interesting. Brief stop at Ocean city (or is it Oceanside?) and Three Arch Rocks – wave cut lava plug. Cape Lookout is a miocene lava flow, so resistant there is less erosion here. Before we came to Haystack Rock – an old volcanic plug – we passed sand dunes which have smothered trees – Sands effect on trees as a turnquit on our arm or leg. Cuts off circulation of vital sap. So much change since Paul and I have been here. Hardly recognize our land marks. Hiked to hold chiseled through jutting cape and walked to other side. Very high tide is in now so volcanic dike we wanted to see is submerged. It fed the volcanic plug in miocene time. Returning to the bus from our beach hike we were tired and thirsty. Just about everyone wound up at the restaurant having a “snack.” Several fellows in this bunch are rock hounds. They shared their “finds” but none had the bits of jade said to be in the lava. Paul says they got that hole dug through the point by telling everyone they could find jade by digging there! 6:00 P.M. Drove to Woodburn and had hamburgers with Pete.


July 10, 1979 – Tuesday: What a day! Had planned to meet Pete, Linda, Scott and David on the lower Metolius tonight. They left this morning, but Paul and I had a class in sign language from 4 to 6 in the afternoon. Paul brought the camper some, as we had planned, but from there until we left tonight plans went haywire. We got up to a stopped up drain. Water from the kitchen bubbled into the bath tub – not exactly the kind of bubble bath we enjoy. Paul went to work to try to correct he problem – liquid plumber, snake, etc. – but it proved to be a stubborn job. Meanwhile I did the best I could with no water to wash clothes or dishes – to pack the camper. I had told Jessie Tiderington I’d pick her up at 3:30 P.M., so we rushed the clock. We wanted to leave in our camper from our class at Linfield College, but we didn’t manage to get everything in the camper in time. after class we hurried home, finished packing, and at last got headed toward the mountains, very tense and very tired. Stopped at the truck stop on the freeway for a final fill-up of gas, and got in a short line with a big travel home that took 65 slow gallons of gas. Thought we’d never get ours. Supper was a salomi sandwich hastily assemled while we waited five minutes for the wheatland ferry. We got into the heavily forested area – Deer country – about dusk and had to slow down for fear of hitting one. We saw two but they didn’t leap out on the highway as they sometimes do. We were about an hour late getting to the lower Metolius. No trouble finding our family. They were beginning to worry about us and Pete and David had started walking down the road to meet us. when they saw us coming they stopped behind a big boulder and waited until we were almost on them, then flagged us down and rode to camp with us. Scott had two wisdon teeth pulled today, but even so he had energy enough to construct a big arrow pointing toward the turn off to our camp. He made the arrow out of pine cones of which he found plenty. He had gone to bed soon after we got in (about l0:15 pm) A big bonfire had welcomed us and Linda fed us fried chicken. Wow! was it good! Knowing the need of it in the morning, Paul and Pete dug a “John” before we went to bed – finally hit the sack about 1:00 am – really tired.

July 11, 1979 – Wednesday – Lower Metolius: David wanted our alarm clock so he could get up early and go fishing. It didn’t work so he had to wake up on his own. Don’t know what time he got up but whan I got up Scott was sitting alone looking miserable beside the fire and David had gone down river to fish. Soon after I started talking to Scott eyeballs began to appear here and there and by the time I scrambled eggs and made toast there were plenty of takers. Scott wasn’t hungry at first, but when I brought out the Cantalope his appetite improved considerable. (Before noon he was asking for a salomi sandwish!). David came sailing in shortly after breakfast with a nice trout he had caught. Linda cooked it for him in foil over the camp-fire and he ate it with great gusto. About noon we all piled into Pete’s car. We’d packed a lunch in preparation for an afternoon’s hike down the river. Pete drove to the end of the road. A sign marks the site here of “Smith’s Cabin”. I don’t know who Smith was but he sure lived a long way from nowhere. Our camp is two or three miles downstream from Lower Bridge and Smith’s Cabin is another 8 1/2 miles. We found a family camped here but they were folding their tent and moving out. ” No fish”, they said, and they’d been here several days. We ate lunch off the tailgate. Scott and David took their fish poles but we “Old Folks” just took flower and bird books. We found a lovely Cascade lilly, lots of Spreading Dog-bane, Desert Trumpet pland and numerous other flowere in bloom. Linda is our flower expert. She also had the quickest eye for spotting new ones on the trail. I suspect that Paul and I have forgotten the little we once knew about the wild plants, but we love them and they give us a good excuse to stop and rest when we are hiking. There was no one on the trail, but we saw a V.W. A real weird one, much modified with screwed up pipes and lopped off fenders. Further alone – where no vehicle could have gone – we found a sort of “Hogan” constructed from black vinyl, gunny sacks and branches. Even had an oven or fireplace made of goil. Apparently some one camped here quite awhile, then left their structure and a lot of litter behind. The trail was easy for awhile, but as it edges around the spur of Green Ridge it becomes rugged with steep slopes down to the very edge of the river, then precipitous climbs. David and Scott disappeared periodically when they inviting gishing spots, then overtook us on the trail. It was probably two and a half miles from where we hit the walking trail to the point where we again found a road. This road is from the Lake Billy Chinook area, and we hope the two roads never meet. Much engineering and a lot of money would be required to build the road through this gorge where the river has cut through the mountains. We found ripe rasberries, stopped to pick and eat them. They grew at the level area where the road from Billy Chinook ends and it was a steep climb to get to them. It never occured to me to carry a handfull back to the boys at the bottom of the canyon. But Linda did. How she got herself and those berries down without smashing either, Ill never know. David dissappeared and we passed with seeing him. However he eventually caught up with us. Back at the car we finished off the lunch we had brought. The hike was tiring but well worth it in beauty. We rested in camp. David was chief wood gatherer and fire builder. Scott did well to nurse his sore jaw through the somewhat strenuous day. Weather is cool enough to be comfortable for hiking and for fire sitting. We have really enjoyed our campfire. Linda brought barbecue beef and beans, I brought several salads and even after all we’ve eaten we are more than ready for a good meal tonight. After supper we watched the Night-hawks swoop up and down the river for insects. About nine o’clock I bathed in the camper then went to bed. Paul and the rest sat up and talked until late. I remember a big cold guy crawling in bed with me sometime in the night but I never opened my eyes to see what time it was or who HE was. (I knew who.)

July 12,1979 – Friday – Lower Metolius: Well, Skylab was t have fallen yesterday. It missed us, but here in the woods we’ve heard no news so don’t know where it fell to earth. Scott was sitting by a crackling fire when I got up but the rest of the crowd at 8:30 am was still in the sack. Soon Linda was up and frying bacon, eggs and pancakes. That brought the gang to life pretty quick. Paul, the pancake-eater of the crowd, was first in line for his servinfg. Linda showed him the place to get his butter and syrup. The syrup, he thought, looked a bit strange and after taking a big bight of pancake he Knew it was. Linda had given him salad oil instead of syrup. The bottles looked almost alike. So the campfire got the first stack of pancakes. Linda just mixed a little more batter and kept on frying pancakes until everyone was full. We didn’t hike today, just sat around the fire in camp because Pete and Linda and boys go home today. David decided he would swim in the river, and by golly he did! That is, he dived in and crawled out twice. The temperature of that stream can’t be more than a few degrees warmer than ice. Shortly after noon the kids were gone and the camp seemed terribly empty. Paul fished awhile but didnt even get a bite. We walked around the camp area, saw more flowers, enjoyed the beauty and solitude. Our campfire tonight seems lonely. David left us lots of wood to burn.

July 13, 1979 – Friday: This is the brightest day we have had. No clouds at all. After breakfast Paul got to whittling on a piece of wood he found, and I read the newspaper I brought from home – Tuesday’s paper. Finally, about noon, we headed for civilization. At Lower Bridge we stopped to watch people who were fishing. Campgrounds here are nowhere full, and below the bridge they are deserted – most unusual in July. Gas shortage and cloudy weather? We saw one fellow pull in a nice fish. We stopped at Wizard Falls fish hatchery, ate our lunch, then walked around. One of the workers here told us they dumped 6000 fish each Friday into the river near the bridge. They don’t stock the lower river but fish, he said, will travel down stream. The reason for the poor fishing in the lower river is that more people are fishing the area where the fish are dumped. We stopped again near the bridge that leads to the Allingham Guard Station. When we looked down from the bridge here we did see a couple of fish. This area is for fly fishing only and a lot of people were fishing. However, we didn’t see them catch any. Our next stop was at Lake Creek Resort where we talked to the manager and looked at the facilities as a possible site for our 50th anniversary celebration. We were impressed and may consider it. We got brochures to send Carol and Pete. Stopped at Sisters for gas. Then to KOA where a shampoo and shower felt pretty good. Took a walk after supper. Mountains are still shiny with snow, and the Bend Bulletin says high lakes and trails still are snowed in. Guess we won’t be hiking to Green Lakes this trip.

July 14, 1979 – Saturday – Sisters: Stopped to see Donna Gill. She’s as full of life as ever. A truly remarkable woman. Discussed plans for our 50th anniversary “retreat.” Read in the Bend Bulletin last night that the high lakes are snowed in so we head for Clear Lake. Stopped for lunch, on the way, at our Indian Ford property. Ali Rierson came over and asked if we were “lost.” She lives in the old Block place and works at the bank in Sisters. We introduced ourselves and shortly her mother came over. Very friendly folks and it made us feel good to know some one was keeping on eye on the place. We found no place to camp on the lake – nor anywhere else until we pulled in at the old Brietenbush Hot Springs resort, near Detroit. Not very well kept and full of people. A teenage boy took us to a rather primitive camp spot with a delapidated one-holer “John”. We were desperate enough to pay $4.00 for it with no hoop-ups. They told us that a multi-million dollar resort is on the board for this aarea. We see beautiful old trees with bright ribbons around them – ribbons of doom for each tree that wears one. But that’s progress! Also, we’re told, a “Commune” has taken over the old Brockman resort and have it posted to keep everyone out. Apparently they bought the property and plan to prevent geo-thermal development. Maybe they have the right idea. Down at the bridge, that leads to the hot springs bath houses, we saw fish and fisher-persons (Both genders, please) but the two didn’t seem to be getting together very well. Now the sight of fish over-came Paul. He got his pole and headed down stream. No fish biting. Can see them, but no biting.

July 15, 1979
– Sunday Morning: I thought of my mother today. It was one hundred years ago that she was born. A different world, indeed, from this. This morning we felt the need to rest. We watched two couples on motorcycles who camped near us as they crawled out of tenes, drank soda-pop and smoked cigarettes for “breakfast.” Lots of people stayed here last night, many Tenters in this campground. Guess the woods was really full. We read the Sunday paper until afternoon, then decided to try to find a better campground. We’ve been hearing airplanes flyying low overhead all morning. Even a helicopter. Paul, at first thought a plane might have gone down and searchers were flying out to find it. But, when the helicopter came over I said, “must be a fire”, and sure enough there was one. When we checked in yesterday the hostess told us they were burning slash and not to get excited if we heard there was a fire. But then we stopped at the office going out we were told the fire got out of control and everyone was advised to stay out of the woods. The fire was located somewhere between here and Brietenbush Lake. We had borrowed a map (Forestry type) from a girl who was working here because we thought we might take a hike today. She was much relieved to learn we hadn’t gone into the woods. We drove down to Brietenbush campground and at mid afternoon found it almost deserted. We chose a comfortable spot and then hiked down the river past Cleator Bend, another campground. Saw fishermen and sun bathers but no fish. We crossed the bridge at Cleater Bend and Pussy-catted out a trail hoping to hike the other side of the river. The trail played out and the going was too rough to continue. By the time we reached camp we were hot and sweaty and needed a bath. We started back to Hot Springs but saw that we wouldn’t make it before the 6:00 pm closing time. Paul jogged back and got the camper and we drove. When we reached the bath house, abaout 5:30, some young fellows were in the ladies side hammering on something. At first they indicated I might go on in while they worked – nudity is required in the hop pool – but my facial expression must have conveyed my responce to their suggestion because they said, “It won’t take us buit a minute or two.” I said, “But you close at six.” He said, “No ten o’clock.” I said, “What is this `Community bath’ from six to 10:00 o’clock?” “Oh.” he said, “It’s mostly couples, you know, men and women together. I’ve gone at the time-nothing to it. It’s OK.” I turned to Paul and he said, “Ill meet you back here at six o’clock. And he went into the men’s bath house. It took the guys about ten minutes to finish which left me about 20 minutes to soak in the hot pool before “Community bath” began. No one else was there and I quickly undressed and got into the pool. It felt heavenly on my tired muscles and joints. But very soon I felt weak and had to sit on the top of the rim for awhile. Finally, at about five minutes to six I got out, took a cool shower and got dressed. I was afraid Paul would worry if I was late. At 6:05 when I emerged, no Paul! I rested awhile, wandered down the trail and back, watched a couple of kids jump feet first from the bridge into the river, and finally went to the door of the mens bath (6:25) and called, “Are you OK, Paul?” “I’m OK he said. About five minutes later he came out. You know, I’m not sure whether he had a gal in there with him, or whether he spent 30 minutes hoping one would come! Anyhow, we got some marshmallows, went back to camp and had supper. Then as it was getting dark and a little cooler we toasted marshmallows before we fell into bed and instant sleep.

July 16, 1979 – Monday – Brietenbush Forest Camp: How much better this free campground is than the $4.00 one where we stayed last night. Only a couple of other campers are here in this 36 camp area. Only sad thing, it is very close to the highway and Paul can hear a lot of log trucks going by. We learned last night that the forest fire has been contained. We woke to a still morning, not a breath of air stirring. Temperature cool but not cold. We took our cups of coffee cups, stirred up and fed the campfire. It felt good. We found familiar flowere – Trillium, Vanilla-leaf, Bunch berry, Rhododendron, Saxifrage (Which sent me to our book to hunt for their identity). We are still not sure but think we identified Mitre wart. Along the road the Fire weed and Scouler’s St.John’s Wart make a lovely red and yellow contrast. Paul said “lets fo to Dunlap Lake.” It took me, maybe, two minutes to batten down the hatches and hop into the cab of the pick-up! We stopped at Humbug campground and put some water into our tank which was getting low. We measured the sistance from the turn-off to Dunlap and it is almost six miles. We met one pick-up and there was a car ahead of us. Paul stopped to let the other car get far enough ahead so we wouldn’t have to eat his dust, and, lo & behold, here came another car. But, that was all the traffic we saw in our six mile climb. The road is in good shape until you reach the turn-off to the lake. Then every rock that was in the road 30 years ago when we started coming to the lake is still there. We hope they stay there. It at lease discourages the faint hearted. We feel a personal ownership for Dunlap. It is Our lake and we dobn’t want it ruined by over-use. We found no one at the campground. When we got parked and began to look around, Paul said, “I’d forgotten how beautiful it was.” The picnickers had left litter which we picked up. there is no garbage can here. Last time we came here there was. Probably someone stole it and it hasn’t been replaced. Most of the litter I found was snoose (sp ?) cans, cigarette packages, fish line packages, beer and coke bottles (broken), potato chip and other junk food containers. Are litterers a breed that starves their brains znd poisons their bodies to the point that they have no intelligence? We couldn’t resist the charm of the water. The sun was almost directly over-head and it was hot. We peeled off and eased our sweaty bodies into the clear cool water of the lake. Even Paul, who hates cold water, said “This is wonderful!” We found the old delapidated raft which has been on the lake for more years than I care to remember. We eased it out into the deep water and swam around it, taking care never to get too far from a safe landing. We’ve lost our fool- heardiness of youth. We respect the infirmities of our aging badies, and what would life be to one of us without the other? We swam and pushed the raft across the lake, sat on the logs there for awhile and rested, what a little jewel this lake is! Trees all around it, mountains looking at themselves in it”s mirror-like surface. After our swim we ate soup and sandwiches, then rested under the shade of two big fir trees. There are many kinds of trees here – Sugar Pine, Mountain Hemlock, Douglas Fir, Cedar and several others. We gathered dead wood so we could have a campfire tonight. I tell Paul he is a pyromaniac because he dearly loves to saw up wood and watch it burn. When he got enough wood to satisfy his need – or rather, until I began to nag him for dragging up so much – he was hot and sweaty and ready for another swim. No one ever has to ask me twice to go swimming and soon we were once more gliding through the cool water of the lake. Well, tonight is our last night out. Tomorrow we go home, and it is just as well. We have about finished off the fresh fruit, vegetables and eggs. At lunch I made sandwiches from the heels of our bread loaf. Tonight I put dumplings in a can of soup to give it filling qualities. Of course the tuna salad and Hi Ho crackers would have been a complete meal. But, as Paul says, “We’re spoiled.” Around the campfire tonight when the sun had gone and the air grew cool we toasted marshmallows and watched the Nighthawks swoop for insects. Not until ten o’clock were there many stars to see. The sun leaves it’s mark on the mountains long after it has left the horizon, an afterglow seen only in the mountains. We have a little glow from the sun tonight, too. It is called “sunburn.”

July 17, 1979 – Tuesday – Dunlap Lake: Warm last night. Woke at 4:00 am with moon shining so bright it looked like day. By daylight we had visitors – a pick-up with board and a car. Many Deer tracks around camp that weren’t here last evening.

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