"100% Chance of Getting Wet"
This post documents our third day of five on our recent rafting trip down the Lower Owyhee River in far southeastern Oregon, four hours from our home in Bend.
 |
| Lambert's Dome |
I awakened at around 6:30 in the morning in our tent at Ryegrass to the happy quickly descending sounds of a Canyon Wren singing over the insistent clucking of a Chukar on the hillside behind us. Like yesterday morning, I hung out under my comfy and warm down quilt awaiting coffee at seven. This morning was noticeably colder than yesterday and I did not sleep well in large part on account of many four-footed visitors in the night.
As I left the tent and made the 30-yard walk for coffee, I saw several of our night visitors scamper every which direction. Until we pushed off into the river, I would continue to see many, many mice, some so bold as to run directly under our feet.
In last evening's briefing for today, Amanda told us we'd be taking a hike today and that lunch fixings would be set out before breakfast so that we could make a lunch to consume when we landed to take our hike. She also told us that the first part of the trip would be gentle and to dress for hiking rather than for the river.
 |
Lunch Fixings Set out Before Breakfast;
I Made a Veggie Sandwich with Hummus |
 |
| Tasty Cantaloupe for Breakfast |
 |
| Brie-Stuffed French Toast for Breakfast |
Also during last evening while sitting around the fire, Amanda told us that we had 100% chance of getting wet today. And I noticed this morning that she was really strapping everything in the raft down for what she called her favorite day of the trip. I wondered what was up after our promised hike. Our trip today would take us 11 miles from Middle Ryegrass to Canyon Camp, deep in the river canyon, passing through some pretty fun whitewater. Our path is outlined in fuchsia on the maps below.
 |
Day 3 - Middle Ryegrass Camp to Canyon Camp (fuchsia)
|
Packed up after breakfast, we set off down the river and just after leaving our campsite, we floated past first the hoodoos and next Pruitt's Castle that Laird and I saw last evening, both new to Ann who had not been on the hike with us.
 |
| River View of Hoodoos I Photographed Last Evening |
 |
| River View of Pruitt's Castle |
 |
| Love the Colors in This Photo |
 |
| Downriver View of Pruitt's Castle |
Having passed Pruitt's Castle, we rounded a bend in the river and another large hill came into view, a hill of the same chocolate and linen coloration as Pruitt's Castle. Amanda called it Lambert's Dome, the object of our hike this morning. I was excited and really looking forward to climb above the river for a different perspective on the gorgeous country all around us.
The saga of our hike is posted here; suffice it to say that my left foot, the one on which I had surgery last year, hurt to the point where I turned around halfway up, while Laird and Amanda pushed to the top. I rejoined Ann at the raft; she only walked a short way with us, still nursing her injured feet.
 |
| First Sighting of Lambert's Dome |
After a quick lunch on the riverside rocks, we set off for what would be our favorite river experience of the trip. Day three was the biggest water day of our trip in the sense of the most and best rapids, the whitewater experience that we all wanted. And it was through the most impressive of the Owyhee canyons, some rising vertically in sheer cliffs perhaps a thousand feet high.
Because of the raucous whitewater, my camera spent a large part of the day safely in its drybag clipped onto a D-ring to keep it from getting tossed overboard. Alas, photographs of this most gorgeous and jaw-droppingly beautiful part of the river are scarce. But the memories are intense!
Before we set off from Lambert's Dome, I battened down the hatches in my rain gear against the coming waves: leg holes, pit zips, and pockets all snugged. But I forgot to cinch my wrists and on the very first wave as I dug in with the paddle with my left hand, a wave came rolling over the bow straight into my right wrist. The frigid snowmelt water ran all the way up my arm, down my back, and settled straight in my butt such that I was sitting in cold water. Brilliant move, Ed! I could do nothing but chuckle.
The raft seemed like it was headed for the sky when we finally crested the wave and slammed down on the far side. It just so happened that the other large group we had been leapfrogging was pulled to the side at Whistling Bird Camp to witness our big air. The guides were hollering at us and applauding. Their group of guests seemed disinterested as they had every time we had seen them, but at least the guides were living life vicariously through us. That wave was a blast!
Soon enough, we hit more great water at the Class-4 Montgomery rapid and then, way too soon, it was over. Just through Montgomery, we spied the other two Momentum rafts pulled to the east side of the river at the small Canyon camp. We pulled hard into the eddy in front of the camp and landed.
 |
| Today's Artwork: Homage to Big Waves and Big Air |
Canyon is a small camp on a narrow flat about 10 feet above the river at the base of immense cliffs. We pitched our tent at just about the northern limit of the camp under a hackberry that had some tiny leaves, in contrast the totally bare trees at Hackberry Camp. This is likely because this site is warmer. It is certainly slightly lower in elevation, but I imagine that radiation from the rock faces helps keep the temperatures up. In any case, we all felt that the night here was warmer than at any of the other camps. Well, it was until the katabatic winds started diving off the cliffs at sunrise, drenching us with cold air; but really, that's a tale for tomorrow morning.
Being wet AF from the rapids (and also intensely happy), we quickly transformed the area around our tent into a drying station in the best of hiker trash clothing-explosion tradition. Every hackberry branch and each small sagebrush was covered in wet gear: rain suits, socks, gloves, and base layers. I quickly changed from my quick-drying synthetic base layer to my beloved Smartwools, my go-to base layer. Wool is wonderfully light and warm, but it is slow to dry, so I saved it for camp and wore the super quick-drying synthetics on the river.
Just as I was changing, Elena showed up with a much welcomed hot toddy of lemon tea and Jim Beam. Once I got all our wet gear arrayed in the sun, that drink really hit the spot.
 |
| Beautiful Camp Site under Hackberry Tree |
 |
| Stunning View South from our Tent |
After dealing with my camp chores, I started exploring where we were. I was really taken with this camp site and ended up taking many dozens of photos of the cliffs around it in various lights. Every few minutes as the light changed, the vistas seemed to change. Although it is impossible to comprehend how high and how vertical the cliff walls are, try to imagine that the Rock Pigeons wheeling over the cliff tops were so tiny as to look no bigger than gnats.
 |
| Looking South Upriver |
 |
| Same View at Dusk |
 |
Now Looking North
Amanda Called the Big White Spire "White Castle" |
On the bench below the cliffs, I spent a few minutes looking at the plants. The shadier areas were covered in Miner's Lettuce, a tasty edible that we use to serve as a salad green at the restaurant, in full bloom. Coming up through the Miner's Lettuce were myriad spikes of Woodland-stars. Both of these flowers are among the very first to open in spring and back home in Bend, are just starting to bloom. At this spot along the Owyhee, these flowers are much more advanced in blooming .
 |
| Meta, Ann Taking a Picture of Me... |
 |
| ...Taking a Picture of Her |
 |
More Meta: A Photo of Amanda Taking a Photo of
Sara and Elena Resting in the Warm Sun |
The food, as usual, was delightful, starting with little Caprese crackers paired with a tasty Rogue Valley blend of white Rhône varietals. As a wino and former Willamette Valley winery guy, I'm happy that an Ashland-based company is supporting their local Rogue Valley wineries. While they had wines for each meal, it seemed that we were probably more into beer. Something about the outdoors makes me want a beer. But there is also something quite nice about sitting around a warm fire with a nice glass of red wine, especially if I don't have to carry said wine on my back.
Dinner was a ragù on polenta with portabella mushrooms and meatballs. I enjoyed it, but wished I were hungrier. Sitting in a raft doesn't really make me crave food like a good hike does.
Dessert was an item that I have never had before. To be fair, I just don't eat sweets except on special occasions such as when someone has gone out of their way to make a dessert for me. I crave salty, not sweet. In any case, we had a roll-your-own dessert that most campers can relate to: 'smores. I have to confess that before this trip, I was a 'smore virgin even at 62 years of age. I did have a bit of fun getting gooey marshmallow into and out of my beard, but I'm not in a hurry to experience 'smores again. I'm likely one and done!
 |
| Somehow, 'Smores Devolved into a Marshmallow Roasting Contest |
After taking our leave from the toasty fire at 9pm, hiker midnight, Ann and I hit the tent for a quick wipe down followed by diving under our down quilts. As I lay there in the dark listening to the roar of the river not ten yards from my head, I thought back on all the bird life we had seen today, triggered by the insistent calls of the Common Nighthawks at that moment soaring over our heads. In addition to the nighthawks, we had seen a couple fairly reclusive American Dippers, which forage for insects by walking along river bottoms using their wings for propulsion. The following morning we would see a handful more, the final dippers of the trip.
Today we had also seen a Northern Harrier land on some unseen prey, a few Belted Kingfishers, and lots of other more common birds. And in the land of the Canyon Wren, I also heard a few of their cousins, the Rock Wrens. Ultimately, I fell asleep to the cries of the nighthawks circling overhead punctuating the amazing white noise of the river.
I would wake once in the night and marvel at the brilliant stars above and attempt a few 30-second exposures of the sky. With the ISO jammed to the max, the photos were really too grainy to be any good. Back under my quilt, I would notice wave sensations for the first time on our trip. Have you ever been sailing for any extended period and then experienced the rocking of the waves on land, especially in bed? I let the waves rock me back to sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment