The Final Stretch to Yamhill County.

Saturday, 2^nd of June to Monday, 25^th of June – On to McMinnville, Oregon (with an excursion to Seattle, WA, and then the Forest Roads back to and through the Washington & Oregon Cascades).

During most of this past year, I have been surprisingly unmolested by insect pests, for the most part; the following deals with those times that I did or are now having run-ins with.  The photographs are of the journey through Oregon, from crossing the border in the Warner Mountains to Yamhill County, and then the trip back from Seattle a couple days later.

Looking back towards Mount Bidwell in California …
one of those groves is where I camped.

A mountain meadow in the Warners.

Interesting flowers …
whatever they are.

Beaver Dam & Lodge.

Insects

While setting up camp in Lodgepoles, I was soon greeted by High Desert Oregon mosquitoes!  Out came the repellent, and up went the netting on all four side windows of the truck, and thus received only a few kisses from the pesky greeting committee.  So this brings onto the subject of insects.  Throughout my travels west, I have been surprisingly untroubled by insect pests.

 

However, in the end I did not get away from southern Utah scot free from the no-see-ums, you will remember that I mentioned in my May 15^th post.  When they first began to hover around, I looked them up online, and read an extensive article about them.  The author said that they are a scourge from mid-May to mid-June, and that they always seemed to go for his ears, and also left red marks the size of a pencil eraser.  Since the ones I was spotting seemed to be just hovering about and not landing on my head or ears, I assumed that I might escape the area unmolested, but then I noticed red pencil eraser marks on my calves, which began to itch … they must have trickled up my loose trousers, when I was sitting in my camp chair painting; I never felt a bite.  I zapped the marks with my first aid cream, which helped relieve the itch for a time, and after a week to ten days the itching ceased altogether, but the pencil-eraser marks lasted for over three weeks.  I am one who does not scratch any insect bites; I rely on my hydro-cortisone cream.  Mosquito bites last for a day or two … these southern Utah gnats really take the cake.

Camas Prairie where I camped
during a snowfall in December, 2014 …
after the “great road building incident.”

Buffalo Prairie.

On the logs of a cabin
above Buffalo Prairie.

In my first camp, after l left Great Basin National Park, below the Schell Creek Mountains, I discovered a tick in a very difficult place to see, let alone remove.  I remembered that some years ago I had purchased a “tick key,” by Coleman I believe.  It works.  Even though I could have used a third hand I managed to get the little blighted off.  First tick I have seen since I was a kid in the northern Wisconsin woods … we young boys would sometimes find one wandering on our bodies, while sitting in church, of all places, and pass it around.  It was a part of Northwoods life.  Now days there are tick-borne diseases you must worry about.  I looked up on line about them and determined that I probably need not worry, but for two weeks afterwards I inspected the bite area (it had left no mark at all), and applied triple antibiotic gel from my first aid kit.  Lyme disease, although there are cases out in the West, is still primarily an eastern and Great Lakes scourge.  The longest it could have been attached, would have been 24 hours.  It probably was resident in that valley below the Schell Creek Mountains, but could have been picked up on my walk in Great Basin National Park, in which case it would have been wandering about my truck for two days … possible I suppose.

Lakeview, Oregon’s sweet little town hall.

And now back in the Pacific Northwest I have mosquitoes to contend with.  Some camps have them and some seem to be mosquito free.  They aren't as voracious as Minnesota mosquitoes (reminiscent of Cobra Gunships), or the legendary Alaskan denizens (similar to B-52s, I am reliably informed), but they do have their moments in some camps.  All three nights, in two different camps in the Warner Mountains, had them, but the next two nights, across the valley north of Lakeview, Oregon, were mosquito free; enough about insects.  I was in that camp while I awaited my appointment to have my front brake pads replaced. 

But enough about insect pests … after camping in the Lodgepoles for two nights, my next camp was west of Drake Peak, in the northern Warners, near Buffalo Prairie.  While looking for a campsite, and driving along the north rim of the Prairie, I spotted a doe in silhouette at the bottom end of the screen of trees between the road and the open ground.  I stopped to get a photo or three, when it dashed off a few yards.  I thought she had finally decided I was a threat, even though my car was a hundred yards distant, and then in front of her I glimpsed a flash of brown, which I took to be a second deer, until it kept up into a tree!  The doe returned to where I had first seen it.  By and by the beast in the tree dropped to the ground and dashed away to the west.  The total time it had been in my sight was a maximum of two seconds … not a lot of time for an identification.  I racked my brains as to what I had glimpsed, and settled on a Fisher.  These are almost the same as Pine Martens, but a bit larger and huskier.  The doe, I believe, might have been protecting a fawn; this I surmised by its actions, for the possible fawn remained hidden.  I stopped into the Ranger Station at Lakeview a few days later, to enquire as to what it might have been that I spotted.  There are rumors of Fishers, in the Warner Mountains, and further west there was Fisher DNA in the contents of an autopsied Coyote’s stomach, but that was it.  Talking it over, we eliminated everything else, and left it open between a Marten of a Fisher.  Later I dug out my mammals book, and now I definitely lean heavily towards the Fisher.

The protective doe.

Brake pads replaced, I made my way north on Hwy 131 from Lakeview, the “tallest town in Oregon (meaning the highest altitude, at 4800 feet),” to Paisley.  Here I climbed up into the mountains west of town, on the forest roads, towards Winter Ridge, and found a campsite just off the Slide Mountain Road, two thirds of the way up at the south end of the Ridge.  That evening and the next morning were first class, although the wind picked up in the afternoon as I made my way along Winter Ridge, to Fremont Point.  Here, at 3000' above Summer Lake below, I took photos, and then proceeded north on a forest road.  Back in 2010, and at the same time of year, this road had been impassable, and it almost was this time, but at two miles in, it improved, and there were two campsites, each with picnic tables.  Here I stopped for the night and managed to prepare supper, in spite of the wind.  A possibility of rain was in the forecast, and so there was … a light drizzle overnight, which turned to snow as I finished breakfast and headed out … and this on June 9^th!  Well I was at 7000' here.  I found huge trees downed another mile along; Winter deadfalls. So I turned around and made my way the three miles back to Fremont Point, needing 4-wheel drive now in a couple of muddy spots.  Once on the main forest roads the going was OK, and so I enjoyed a taste of Winter … on Winter Ridge … in June!!!  A couple of inches fell as I drove along, and it gradually petered out as I descended west towards Thomas Lake, 15 miles away and a couple thousand feet below.  I asked people camping there if they had had any flurries, but only a bit of rain had fallen there.

Wildflower hillside on the way up to Winter Ridge.

Summer Lake from the South,
with Winter Ridge all the way along its western side …
Winter Ridge is 3000’ above the lake.

A lake while ascending Winter Ridge.

Buttercups on Winter Ridge.

Summer Lake from Fremont Point. 
It was Fremont who gave the
Ridge & Lake their names.

My campsite the evening before …

… the June 9^th snowfall!

(To be continued ...

Cutting my way into Oregon.

Friday, 1^st of June to Saturday, 2^nd June, 2018; 

Big Den Creek, Nevada to the Warner Mountains, Oregon.

Sand Mountain.

Once the Pony Express ran by here …
now ATVs sputter about.

Upon leaving Big Den Creek, I crossed over or passed around several more mountain ranges, and the down into the Salt Wells Basin to Fallon, NV, re-supplied, crossed over the Carson River and the edge of Carson Sink.  This fairly dismal landscape, seems to form a frontier between many of the plant communities I had become used to over the past months, and those of the High Desert and the Basin & Range section of the Pacific Northwest, for when I camped that night, half a mile off of Hwy 477 and northwest of the Black Rock Desert (think Burning Man Festival), I was surrounded by Junipers only … no Pinyons … and certainly no Snakeweed.  It was beginning to feel like southeastern Oregon still close to a hundred miles off.  From Fallon I had passed through Fernley, crossed over Interstate 80, picked up State Hwy 477, passed by Pyramid Lake, spotted wild burros north of mostly dry Winnemucca Lake, in the Poito Valley, gazed up the flat expanse of the Black Rock Desert as I crossed over its southern tip at Gerlach, NV, to my campsite for the night near Squaw Summit.  The next day would see me back into Oregon, but not without incident.

Pyramid Lake … for obvious reasons.

Lake Winemucca … mostly dry.

Wild …

… Burros.

There did not seem to be any Snakeweed in the area, so somewhere while crossing Nevada, I must have passed out of the zone in which that plant thrives.  Snakeweed is one of those plants I became familiar with, during my months spent on the Colorado Plateau.  The Native Americans would use bundles of it to brush the prickles off the Prickly Pear Cacti, during food preparation; so much to learn about the plants and animals in the world around us!

Last Camp in Nevada
… no Pinyons … no Snakeweed.

June 2^nd and twenty or thirty miles after crossing over Squaw Summit, Hwy 477 descends down into Surprise Valley, and passing from Nevada into the extreme northeastern California.  The Warner Mountains had been visible all the way from the Summit, and now formed the western wall of Surprise Valley.  The eastern side of this long valley is still the high desert terrain, I had been passing through, and in the Valley are three long alkali lakes, dry for the most part, but with stretches of water.  However, the western side of the Valley, between the alkali lakes and Warners, is lush and green, especially at this time of year, and dotted with farms and ranches, and some of the largest and most magnificent Cottonwoods I have ever seen.  There are pools, and ponds, and marshes, and green pastures; such a contrast with the lands I had passed through, beyond the alkali lakes.  And, yes, Surprise Valley is a surprise, just as it was for some early pioneers heading along the southern route to Oregon, some of whom turned around, once they got to Oregon, and came back to settle.

First view of the Warner Mountains
from Squaw Summit on Hwy 477.

Looking up Surprise Valley from the South.

Down the Surprise Valley
from Fort Bidwell.

Cedarville is the largest of three small towns in the Valley, with a population of about four or five hundred.  From here the main road turns west and crosses over the Warner Mountains, to US Hwy 395 and Alturas California. From there it is north along the shores of Goose Lake to the Oregon border and Lakeview, a few miles further on.  I did not go that way, but took the roads less travelled.  Heading north from Cedarville, I passed through Fort Bidwell, with no shops still in business that I could see.  From here the choice is northeast, on the lower desert/forest roads to the “wide spot in the road,” Adel, on Hwy 140, or north on County Road 2 into the Warner Mountains, and the latter is what I took.

Climbing high out of Fort Bidwell …

… and higher still …

… and even higher into the Warners.

Indian Paintbrush.

Unknown white flower.

Climbing and climbing, up and up for ten miles, and from 4000’ to 8000’, brought me to the crest of the Warners; I could have stayed on County Road 2 down to Hwy 395 and Goose Lake, but I turned northeast onto a small forest road (148, I think), and began my descent towards the Oregon border that way.  Squeezing past several trees that had fallen onto the road during the Winter, finally brought me to a pair of trees that had fallen all the way across the roadway.  ATV drivers had already been through, but had only cut a path through wide enough for their little machines.  I lifted the tops of the trees off the road, but because of the small stream on that side, was still unable to pass; time to give my Christmas axe a workout!  I worked through the branches of both trees, clearing the way to safely get a swing at the main trunks of the fallen.  My Christmas axe ... a hand-forged, Scandinavian Forest Axe, cut beautifully; thank you siblings.

Moonlight Mine, just as I started down towards Oregon, from the highpoint.

Half a mile along brought me out onto high mountain meadows.  The road became more rutted and very rocky, and I began to think of turning around … there could be twenty miles of this!  But as I crested a ridge I could see mountains in the distance that I recognized thirty or forty miles away, and in Oregon; Hart Mountain on the right to the east, and Drake Peak in the Warner Mountains on the left to the west, with the Warner Valley in between.

Out of the woods with
Mount Bidwell behind me.

Hart Mountain National Antelope Refuge
in the distance to the northeast …

  … & Drake Peak to the west
of the Warner Valley.

Some sort of yellow flowers.

I saw a cattle grid a couple hundred yards away, and I decided to make my decision to turn around or not, once I got there.  The border was closer than I thought, for once at the grid, a sign on the other side said “Welcome to the Fremont National Forest.”  That's Oregon, I thought, since I was in California's Modoc National Forest.  I crossed over into Oregon, eleven months after departing the Twin Cities.  Two miles farther on, I camped within a grove of large trees that from a distance I had taken to be Ponderosas, due to their size; they turned out to be enormous and magnificent Lodgepole Pines; I've never seen Lodgepoles so big.  I had said to the Ranger at the Great Basin National Park Visitors Center, that I would spend about ten days crossing Nevada … it took me seventeen … I was in a bit of a hurry, or it might have taken even longer.

Standing in California
looking at my truck in Oregon … made it!

First camp in Oregon,
amongst the large Lodgepoles.

Pretty Blue Flowers hereabouts.

These little blossoms were tucked in
under the leaves, and only accidentally 
spotted they were under there.

Supplies

(Take Note: for those of you who have signed up to be notified by email of new postings to this blog, you have been receiving not just a notification, but an actual copy of the new blog posting as the email.  As this does not show the images of the paintings in the best possible light, you should click on the title of the latest blog posting at the top of the post, and not the title of the painting itself; this will open up the actual blog itself, and you may then enjoy the paintings at their best.)

Stars were bright all night with just the occasional cloud passing by; I awaken several times during an average night; always have.  And the morning came bright and fair, and the best day since I left for the High Desert more than a month ago.  Christmas being two days off and my supplies needing a top up, I headed for Lakeview, 60 miles off.  I would have liked to have painted on a day like this, but I didn’t want to go to town on Christmas Eve, as I have no idea what the business hours might be.  I discovered that the water pump at the campground actually was working, and so I filled my containers; later I also discovered that it depended on the temperature whether water actually came out or not, but it was interesting to know, that it didn’t seem to be closed off during the Winter. 

I drove through Plush, 15 miles from the CCC Campground, and which has only a small general store, stopped to take some photos of an old green barn, which I intend to paint at some point.

Green Barn in Plush

I continued on up out of the Warner Valley, via the Plush Cutoff Road, and with Drake Peak, to the southwest as a landmark, I enjoyed the drive along the rolling terrain of the plateau.  A few miles along I noticed a large herd of cattle, about two hundred, far off to the west that had not been there two weeks earlier; they looked odd, so I pulled over and glassed them with my binoculars, and lo and behold they turned into ANTELOPE!  Here I have been in the Hart Mountain National Antelope Refuge for almost two weeks, and not one sighting of an antelope, and here they are across the valley!  Sadly, they were two far for decent photographs.  I stopped again just before joining Hwy 140 to take some more photos of Drake Peak (altitude 8407’); this is part of the Warner Mountains. 

Drake Peak

I liked the look of Lakeview, (population 2294; 2010 census); it’s an oasis of trees and houses in the High Desert.  First I had lunch at the Burger Queen; I felt like having a cheeseburger at a local one-off café, for a change.  Next I visited my bank and as I was strolling through the doors, I noticed across the street a tiny home-like building with a sign saying, “Town Hall.”  I enquired of the teller, if that was actually the Town Hall across the street, and upon receiving a yes, I paused for a few seconds, searching for words, and said, “How sweet!”  Well … it was; what else need be said?  Chuckling to myself and exiting to the street, I looked at the sweet Town Hall again, and proceeded to the Safeway, the only food store in town that I was aware of.  Then after topping up my stores, I drove around the town a bit; I was surprised at the variety of and number of shops there were; perhaps I shouldn’t have been as it is a long ways to anywhere else.  I tanked up on petrol, gave my Mom a call, wishing her a Merry Christmas, and headed back to the wilds.  I hoped to find a road into the mountains that wasn’t too snowy, and find a clearing among the pines to spend Christmas, but even though I found one that might have been OK, and after driving a short way along it, I decided not to risk it … snow, and the memory of my recent mudfest of a few weeks ago, militated for caution. 

In the end I returned to the CCC Hut Campground, sighting no antelope on the way, but a herd of deer with one stag, as I dropped down into Plush, and another herd as I entered the campground, also with one buck.  I Mountain Bluebird was gracing the fence as I pulled into my campsite; they are a beautiful blue, these birds … a bit of sky come to Earth.  I took a few photos of the last sun on the Hart Mountain Ridge (both of these below are from my campsite).  

Last Light on Hart Mountain #1

(& Poker Jim Ridge)

Last Light on Hart Mountain #2

There were some cloud layers to the southwest as the sun set, and as I prepared supper, I thought I glimpsed Venus low above the horizon.  This was confirmed later, when I brought up my Astronomy App on my tablet … so, Venus will now be an Evening Star for the next few months.  My tent neighbors of the night before had gone up the mountain this morning, so I again had the camp to myself.  I watched the thin crescent Moon until it set at 18:43, read a bit and turned in for the night, hoping the morrow would be as nice as this day had been.