San Rafael River

I'd just arrived Cleveland when the Cuyahoga caught fire. After passing through the Han Ranch this looks like it could dissolve anything. If you stretch the tape measure it might be fifteen feet wide.

Headwaters of the Metolius River, Oregon

Finally, after 20 minutes of blocking the early-morning sun, I'm set!

I often sit outside and put the netbook inside, where the front passenger seat was. I'm off to an early start this morn, -- 10:00 a.m. -- and the sun's angle was juuuuust right to come through the side window, reflect off the rearview mirror and into my eyes. Anyone else'd have tho't to move the mirror, but, being German, as I've noted before, the obvious eludes. Now, after the sun moved on, I'm trying again...with the leftovers from last night's beer (I usually only drink half) and a fly swatter (cows = cowshit = flies!!).

Metolius Headwaters - Mt Jefferson in the center on horizon

It's uncanny! After following Mr. Nose through several unmarked turns I came to a sign that read: Candle Creek Campground (CG). With no mention of mileage or direction, I was relieved when it appeared after about ten minutes. I cruised all 12 sites, a number of which are bounded by the raging and noisy torrents, even in late summer, of the Metolius. But I REALLY don't like staying in campgrounds (cg) and after sitting on the bank and absorbing its rant (Metolius is more than a babbling brook), I trundled on.

There are some placid spots

Not long after exiting the cg I noticed a dirt track I missed on my way in. It went back and went back and kept going. So did I. Eventually it reached the end....right next to...Candle Creek!  And it's a full-fledged, rip-snortin' li'l sucker too.

From the hatchery bridge - the Metolius

Its edges are overgrown with brush making it hard to get to, but I found a spot where I think I can (muttered with that intransigent optimism gleaned from The Little Engine That Could).

One nice thing...there's been a fire and I can see Eggbert from a distance. Thus, not so much chance of getting lost (dang trees!!).

There's a hill that affords a splendid view of Mt. Jefferson and its tattered mantle of snow. A pair of chipmunks stopped by to see if I had any ice for their martinis. (It was that time of day, after all.)

I was almost resigned to the C.G. when I left it. I've never gotten used to how it happens every evening. But, as per usual, home, this spot, was awaiting.

Alpine, Wyoming - Filet Mignon, Capers & Laundry

Two miles from the border of Idaho, Alpine, Wyoming, is a cosmopolitan hub-of-the-universe offering all the essentials...including capers.

To the North the highway is bounded on the west by Palisades Reservoir and some mountains on the East. Here and there a stream flows down. There are only a couple of roads into the mountains and, as far as I could find, few dispersed camping sites...and those were taken.

Forced, FORCED, I tell you!! to resort to a campground, I was pleasantly surprised to find Calamity C.G. almost empty. I chose tent site C-11 at the top of the hill.

1957 Cummins Diesel (click to largen)

Next morning I supervised the Corp of Engineers launch of their tugboat to clear driftwood from near the dam outlets. Afterward, I explored Little and Big Elk creeks.

Little Elk is pretty small, but there are three (count 'em) dispersed camp sites along it. All were taken. Big Elk looks like good fishing but no camp sites.

The drive up Sheep Creek is beautiful and worth the price of the gasoline, but the area is closed for revegetation.



I found filet mignon for $8.99/pd at the Alpine Market. The butcher ground it up and with the aforementioned capers it made superb beef tartare.

Click on photo to largen

It was late afternoon when, following my Lucky Herrmann instinct, I took the road out of the center of town toward a large canyon. It was the Grey's River road. The Grey's is the last undammed waterway in the U.S. that connects with the Columbia and the Pacific ocean. I soon came to an area of dispersed camping and, as luck would have it, with a beautiful overlook of the river.

Traffic on the road was intense and as the day advanced, it worsened. As beautiful as it was, I decided to push on. However, for those of you who don't mind neighborus proximus or being ogled by passersby (there's not much room between the road and river), there were quite a few dispersed sites. And everyone looked suitably civilized.

Knowing I'd have to drive a while to the next forest, I stayed another night at Calamity Campground. Cheryl and Mike, the campground hosts, are the best! From Mustang Island (Gulf of Mexico) to Palmer, Alaska (NE of Anchorage), their pit toilets are the cleanest.

I was about to mosey on North but an R.V. park owner said the only laundry facilities in the next four counties was in Thayne, 18 miles south.